To Be Alone (Ongoing)
Eddie Munson x fem reader (no Vecna)
Moving back to Hawkins in your senior year was a fresh start for you and your family. But your past keeps coming back, especially your childhood crush, who just happens to be your brother's best friend. Should you bury those feelings or let them blossom?
Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3
Alpha Eddie with a not-so-traditional Omega (Ongoing)
Alpha Eddie Munson x Omega Reader
You and Eddie always laughed about how Mother Nature messed up with the two of you. He didn't want a family to call his own or protect, and you certainly didn't want kids to nurture and an Alpha to surrender to. That was clear until you were forced to go off your suppressants and scent blockers. Will the two of you be able to keep your heads clear?
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 (proofreading) // Part 4
Blurbs
Rockstar Eddie with a stubborn reader (not proofread)
Rockstar Eddie Munson x fem reader
After not seeing him for 6 years, you encounter Eddie unexpectedly. Your only option is to run, it doesn't matter that he's calling your name and asking you to wait. You HAVE to leave. He can't learn how much your life has changed from the last time you saw each other.
A little chat with your therapist
Present Time Rockstar Eddie Munson x Actress Fem Reader
You have a session with your long-time therapist to discuss your last encounter with Eddie and vent about how uncaring and mental he was with his last request to you. But, while you're rambling about how wrong it was, you come to realize something.
From Eden
Eddie Munson x Fem Reader
A short conversation between you and Eddie about the past and the future and whether he has atoned for what he did.
Is there any chance you could see me? (semi proofread)
Eddie Munson x Demi Fem Reader
You decline Eddie's invitation and finally come clean with him about a truth that weighs on you.
mdni!! 18+. smut. smut with no plot at all actually. modern au.
title based on if you’re too shy (let me know) - the 1975
a/n: heyyy i’m back with some degenerate smut!! it’s my first time ever doing a fic like this so if it isn’t formatted well/is confusing pleaseeee let me know!! r has a faceless nsfw account on twitter, eddie is a content creator/camboy with a large following. they’re both absolute down bad losers for one another! if it’s not your thing pls feel free to scroll
this @gutsnhugs kurt fic literally blew my mind and kinda forced me into finally writing some camboy!eddie so everyone say thank you!!
˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗
you're horny.
horny and alone.
which wasn't a rarity, it was just that today was particularly awful and nothing on this wretched site is seeming to satiate the ache between your legs.
eddie always seemed to be able to, watching the one video of him being ridden like an absolute stallion over and over until you'd cum enough times to fall asleep.
but you need him, need him here.
the ache keeps coming back, each time worse than before. a deep, aching hunger for this strangers cock. it was debauchery, genuine filthy need to be used by this man that the autoscroll videos of puppies playing with ducklings couldn't even cleanse.
you click the small envelope on his profile on a whim, it's not like he'd ever see your message, god knows how many desperate women and men alike sent him utter vulgarity day in day out. this was more for your own appeasement. to know that you tried, even if you weren't successful.
you've posted a few videos here and there, garnering a couple hundred likes on a few. mostly just of your hand between your legs, shuddered gasps soundtracking the tapes. but you were nowhere near on eddie's level.
he had thousands of followers, all salivating at the mouth, clambering for the next video, the next stream of him mindlessly playing with his cock- hell, they'd cream themselves for just a tweet back saying hi.
🐇baby
i need to fuck u so bad lol.
he wouldn't even see it.
you'd be cursed to a life of anonymous thirsting forever. unless of course you accidentally stumbled upon him in the street, accidentally bumping his shoulder which forces you to apologise, therein which he falls deeply, madly in love, fucking your brains out each and every day until the end of your lives.
but as delusional as you may be, you know that the likelihood of that ever happening is zero to none. so, instead of pining over some dude you'll never meet, you lock your phone and attempt to fall asleep. dreaming sweet musings of curly-headed men who live to make you cum.
-
the shrill ringing of your alarm is abrupt, forcefully prying you from your dreamland and back into the dull dregs of corporate life.
you don't even look at your phone until the coffee is in your mug, leaning over the kitchen island to find what was perhaps the worst notification you could've ever received.
edward🖤
is that u on ur page?
if it is....... i'm down
very down
oh my god.
your heart thuds, feeling the mismatched beats in your throat.
firstly on account for him even seeing your disgraceful thirsting, but secondly for the fact that he's very down.
very down?
mortification rushes through your veins, heat creeping through your body in complete disgust. and arousal. definitely arousal.
🐇baby
oh hey....
didn't think you'd actually see that i'm so sorry🫣
ya they're me but i don't post my face #corporategirl
jesus christ.
you were beyond redemption, so disgustingly down bad for this man that he had you quivering over your burnt black coffee at six thirty in the fucking morning.
that far-fetched, ludicrous fantasy of yours seemed so terrifyingly feasible now that you want to cull it from your mind. rid yourself of any and all fantasies about him, just in case you were to meet and he could somehow read your tainted mind.
work today would only be made a hundred times harder knowing that you'd be waiting for a message back. for some inkling of hope to keep this facade up. he'd probably do it too- play along with your sick games in a bid to get you to pay for his top-tier onlyfans or some shit.
-
it's almost lunch before you're completely calmed down, absentmindedly checking your phone when you see that stupid little black heart again.
edward_munz followed you back!
edward🖤
i see everything lol
do you really need to or do you have post nut clarity and regret ever sending that message
bc i don't
if you were wondering
you hate the fact that he has your ears burning from four silly little messages, only despising yourself more for immediately replying.
🐇baby
that's so scary
no post nut clarity here
you spare a quick glance around the, mostly silent office, making sure nobody was creeping over your shoulder, checking in on their pervert coworker.
🐇baby
you just nutted?
without showing me?🥺
you're disgusting.
immediately regretful for your no-better-than-a-dude's words.
🐇baby
omg i'm sorry ew
he doesn't reply, or even see the messages. forcing your heart into arrest, your pussy already throbbing at the most surface level flirting the twitter dm's had ever seen.
the knot in your stomach grows with every passing minute, was it over now? before it had even started? you should've kept your mouth shut, participated in the parasocial teasing and then gone home to up your sub amount like a good little follower instead.
ping
edward🖤 sent an image
you tentatively click the notification, it'd be a sub-list. one telling you to send him an extra ten dollars for the dm's package.
oh no.
your head snaps up, glancing at your unassuming colleagues again. double, triple insurance that none of them could see your phone screen.
it's a picture of his lower stomach, covered in a thick white tinted substance, the curly hairs on his groin all slicked with the stuff and the pretty pink tip of his glistening cock in the background.
edward🖤
is that anything?
proof enough for u?
🐇baby
wow
fuck i'm at work rn
NEED to fuck you for sure
or need you to fuck me maybe
edward🖤
if ur serious, i'm always down
ur fucking hot
you're fucking hot?
coming from the very man that had you pleading for mercy from your own bastard hand. you're honoured, completely, unabashedly honoured.
🐇baby
i'm so serious
are u??
don't make me get my hopes up for nothing
edward🖤
ofc i am
do u even live anywhere near indiana?
indiana? the love of your life has been in indiana this entire time?
🐇baby
i live in indiana! lol
i live just outside the city
what about you?
edward🖤
hawkins
lol
that's like
a 40 minute drive from me
u might be worth it tho
🐇baby
might be?
edward🖤
ok
WILL be
better?
🐇baby
much better
r u 100% serious
i've never done this before i don't know if you're just trying to be nice
edward🖤
100% serious.
if ur scared we can always ft before?
you grin at your phone, a loser of the highest order. it was the bare minimum chivalry that one would expect but it had you biting your lip anyway.
edward🖤
but i wanna see you
i mean it
🐇baby
okay
i want to see u too
u don't even know what i look like lol
edward🖤
true
show me
if we're gonna make sweet love or wtv i should know
🐇baby
lolllll
you scroll through your camera roll, swiping past the numerous images of your food and the sunset in an attempt to find a half-decent picture of yourself. there's one taken from your laptop, lead on your stomach with your feet dangling helplessly in the back with your finger positioned right between your teeth.
edward🖤 reacted ❤️ to your message
fuuuucckkkk
and you want to fuck me?
why??
🐇baby
oh my god
don't do that
you know ur hot
edward🖤
i'm so fucking hard again lol
wyd saturday?
it's taking everything within you not to scuttle off to the bathroom to ease the pulsing of your cunt. he was ridiculously smooth. charming his way right into your sodden panties, not that that wasn't an easy feat for someone who looked like him.
🐇baby
nothing
or...
i can be doing something if u want
edward🖤
now you are
i'm coming over
need to feel u
so so bad
there’s a knock at your cubicle wall, startling you out of your skin. kristy swings round, none the wiser to your deplorable antics, "we're gonna grab some lunch, you coming?" so completely oblivious to how much her choice of words rang true.
you shield your phone with your entire body, protecting her from the filth that lay upon it, you're not entirely sure who would end up more traumatised. "oh.. uhm yeah, let me just finish up and i'll meet you downstairs," nodding sweetly, a complete facade to cover up who you really were.
🐇baby
i’m so so sorry
i have to go
work thing
i’ll make it up to you later
edward🖤
oh fuck you
that’s so mean
i’ll remember that
i’m gonna stream later
you better be there
his invitation makes you smile to yourself, haphazardly tossing your belongings into your bag, hoping your beaming grin and warm skin wouldn't arouse suspicion with your coworkers. you've no idea how you'll make it through lunch, let alone the rest of your workday all the while knowing eddie was barely an hour away, stroking his cock to the thought of you.
🐇baby
wouldn’t miss it
-
you don’t waste a millisecond between getting through your front door and thinking about how you’ll make it up to eddie.
shuffling through your usual routine of stripping off your rigid work clothes, reheating whatever bland variation of leftovers left in the fridge and planting yourself on the couch to watch hours of trashy tv. only today, you move upstairs, to your bedroom— to privacy.
you had an array of previously filmed videos, mostly awfully-lit, barely legible thirty second clips of you cumming, made for the sole purpose of garnering likes from thirsty old men online. they wouldn't do, weren't up to the standard that he deserved for your cruel blue-balling.
it comes to you as you finish the borderline inedible spaghetti, sat cross-legged on your bed. you'd make it up to him a thousand times over, and no doubt rile him up a thousand more.
🐇baby
when r u going live
need to see u
edward🖤
look at you begging for me now
you still owe me
but give me ten and i'll be live
perfect.
enough time to set yourself up, laptop poised and ready to go, pussy purring for a glimpse of his ringed fingers pumping his shaft. knowing now, that he was just as eager to fuck you, as you were him- you wanted to make this something, worthwhile even. purposefully changing into an especially racy pair of black panties, not that he'd see much, that wasn't the point.
your phone buzzes, snapping you out of the enchanting visions of him fucking you into the mattress. a link, to his stream sits waiting, taunting. making the distracted fluttering of your cunt oh so much worse.
edward🖤
just for you
you tilt the laptop screen, just enough to be captured by your phone, joining the stream to a dimly-lit image of him sat resting on his elbow. one hand wrapped around his phone, the other moving slowly over his hip.
his eyes flit between whatever was on his screen to the chat, thousands of faceless people begging to see more. eddie could go live anytime and be certain that at least a thousand porn-brained sickos would be tuning in to watch.
"how's your day been?" he asks, voice seeping through your dark bedroom, "y'think about me at all?" chuckling low, still engrossed by whatever it was he was watching.
god, you hope it's you.
the chat lights up with a hundred messages. ‘all day everyday!' and 'i never stop thinking about you' fill the screen. he had them wrapped around his little finger, lapping up the petty scraps he threw them.
and don't get it wrong, you were absolutely one of them. look at the state he'd gotten you in without ever touching you.
your hand sinks down between your thighs, phone positioned carefully on your chest as you hit record. he hadn't even started touching himself yet and you were soaked. the commanding boom of his voice, the lazy eye contact with the camera and the sheer exhilaration of knowing you'd see exactly what you do to him on camera.
your fingers dip into the soft lace, circling your clit a few measly times before sliding between your wet folds and into your quivering hole, "oh fuuck," gasping right into the microphone, words intertwined with shaky moans.
eddie looks at the camera, as if he's looking through the plastic right at you, "a little excited today, aren't you?" fucker, it's like he knows. "'m gonna start in a sec.." gripping his dick through the material, ensuring the vulgar outline of his erection can be appropriately seen by all.
"shit.." murmuring without meaning to, so entirely wrecked by just a few words.
he tugs on his sweatpants, tongue peeking out of his shiny lips as his cock jumps up, hitting against his stomach, already glossy with pre-cum. "that what you wanted, hm?" wrapping his hand around the base as his phone falls onto the mattress, images of you already burned into his mind, you hope.
your fingers glide back to your clit, tracing around the thrumming nub, right in time with his fist moving up and down. you share the same tempo, despite the distance. that must mean something, maybe.
“oh eddie,” you whine, the video now a shaky haze, attributed to your imminent orgasm, “touch me.. fuck please touch me,” mewling into your phone, only exaggerating a little, mostly for his benefit.
it doesn’t take long for you to make yourself cum, fucking your fingers desperately, a pool of your spend coating the digits when your stomach flips. projecting a chorus line of expletives, littered with echoes of his name.
he grunts, just as you begin to tremble— connected by a higher being you’re sure. his thumb teasing his tip, drawing this out for as long as it took, milking the drooling sycophants for every last dollar they were willing to tip.
“please please please,” you pant, seeking his permission to let yourself topple over, “thank you.. thank- shit,” crashing into your climax, crying out with little care as to who could hear.
your phone slides from your heaving chest, almost immediately ready to go again when your eyes focus and connect with his.
it takes a minute, but you gain enough semblance of control eventually, tapping hurriedly to get the video sent and into his hands.
his phone brightens up the inked skin of his rib cage and for a moment you think he might just ignore it until he pauses, recognises your name and lets curiosity take over. the camera jolts, his laptop shoved slightly lower, so as to not expose whatever might be waiting behind the notification.
“oh shit,” eddie mutters, glancing at the chat only to instantly flick back to your little pornography attempt. “jesus christ,” swiftly lowering the volume of his phone when the video plays.
this is it.
everything you’d ever wanted, transpiring over a grainy livestream on a rainy thursday evening. it’s awe inspiring, just last night you had meant nothing to him and now you’re making him jitter like a stupid school boy.
the chat awakens when he puts the phone to his face, muffled sounds of your pleas ring out for thousands to hear.
what’s wrong?
pls don’t go!!!
need to see u cum👅
his hand reignites, watching diligently how your hips roll and you fuck yourself to his nonchalance, “fuck.. yeah, that’s it bunny,” he keens, the mindless nickname you’d given yourself tumbling out of his lips.
what’s he watching
who is that lol.
relentlessly fucking his fist now, no longer concerned with the stream, but instead you. every single sense of his is honed into you and his fucking cock.
he has a gf???
“y’gonna take my cock, huh?” voice full of rasp, dominance. you’re shivering all over again, grinding down onto nothing, “gonna cum all over my fuckin’ cock,” a demand, not a question.
your cunt drips, hand now back in your panties, teasing your clit with his words. with the image of him losing all composure to your video. his strangled moans travel through the speaker, masquerading the wet shlick of your pussy.
“doin’ so good f’me..” you can see his fingers scramble restart the recording, the others vigorously pumping around his cock, “ohh.. shit, bunny. fuck, i gotta feel you.. need’a..” trailing off into silence to allow your wails through clearly.
who even is that.
this is so fucking hot🥵
wish that was me
the tattoos littering his body gleam with sweat, flexing with every jerk of his hand, every time your syrupy iteration of his name calls out through the phone. it’s sickening how your own voice makes you shudder, getting off to yourself seemed narcissistic but it fills your stomach with electricity.
eddie must agree, sighing into the air with zero constraint, “gonna fill you up.. yeah? you want that? want me to cum inside y’perfect pussy?”
“fuck yes.. fuck.. please,” begging him, so feeble. at his mercy and so willingly too.
the camera wobbles, matching his ferocious pace though you see him perfectly. see his pretty cock twitch between his palm, “fuck yeah baby.. fuck yes, gonna cum.. gonna cum right here,” garbled nonsense mostly but it sends you hurtling into another orgasm.
seemingly just in front of his own, strained sobs fall out of his pouted lips, deliriously chanting your display name, “yes bunny, take it— take it all,” thick ropes of cum paint his hand and thighs, over and over.
jesus christ🔥🔥🔥🔥
just came everywhere lmao!
he’s ruined, a shell of the cocky, egotistical exterior he had on prior. and all because of you.
his arm falls to his side, then, abruptly the screen goes dark, his laptop snapped shut without so much as a goodbye nary thank you to his loyal following.
there’s maybe a single second of silence before your phone explodes, vibrations one after the other alerting you to his frenzied messages.
edward🖤
ur fucking crazy
genuinely fucked
did you see how much i fucking came
do u want me to lose my mind??
was that u making it up to me bc shit
your heart beats a million miles a minute, if this was what happened over some low quality livestream, how would you ever cope with him in actuality? there’s not a chance in hell you’ll make it out alive.
🐇baby
so you liked it??
edward🖤
i’m abt to drive to your house rn
i’ll show you how much i liked it
loved it
i loved it
🐇baby
please do
i came twice lol
i want u
edward🖤
im gonna cum again
show me u rn
just anything
pls
you diligently open the camera, cheek pressed into the pillow with your eyes wide, gazing directly at him through miles of separation. in the most ludicrous way, it feels like he’s peering right back— together even though you couldn’t be further from it.
edward🖤
fuvkkkk gof
i’m cumming
i’m in love with u
come here
let me come ther idc
come on my face
five unconscious words were going to ruin your life forever.
summary: Eddie Munson is your good friend and study buddy for sociology. when he mistakes the novel you're reading for your sociology textbook, you get a more...hands on approach to learning about power dynamics.
wc: 7.2k
order up: college!au, friends to lovers, d/s dynamics, jealousy, confessions
tw: explicit smut, p in v unprotected, d/s dynamics, use of petnames [princess, sweetheart, baby, honey, guys a whole mess of honorifics], spanking, eddie eats pussy because of course he does, ropeplay mention
a/n: hi hi hi, i have so many eddie requests in my inbox and while he isn't my brainrot rn, i really hope you guys enjoy this one because i loved writing it.
masterlist
Your dorm room felt smaller during midterms.
Books everywhere. Highlighters bleeding through thin pages. Half-drunk cans of cola sweating onto your desk because you kept forgetting they existed.
Eddie Munson was sprawled across the floor on his stomach, boots kicked off, rings tapping idly against his soda can as he flipped through his notes.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said for the third time, pushing his hair out of his face. “The professor literally said the theme was power dynamics. That’s, like, my whole brand.”
You shot him a look from your desk chair. “It's not a campaign metaphor, Munson.”
“Everything is a campaign metaphor,” he countered.
There was a comfortable rhythm to this.
You quizzing him. Him derailing you.
It was easy, being like this. Friends who studied together. Friends who argued about symbolism. Friends who definitely did not think too hard about the way the other stuck his tongue out a little when he concentrated.
Eddie groaned dramatically and rolled onto his back. “I need a different book. The one with the red tabs. It’s on your bed, I think.”
Your stomach dropped.
Because yes, there was a book with red tabs on your bed.
But it was not the sociology textbook.
It was tucked half beneath your comforter, face-down, like it had tried to hide itself at the last second. Black cover. Embossed lettering. A very intentional ropework design worked into cover in a way that was… not subtle.
You opened your mouth.
“Wait—”
Too late.
Eddie was already on his feet, crossing the room in three lazy steps, reaching down to grab the book from your bed before you could physically launch yourself at him to stop it. His fingers curled around the spine, and he lifted it casually, flipping it over—
—and froze.
"This is... not your sociology textbook." He says, eyes wide as he flips through the pages.
Your blood ran cold. It was a specific, visceral feeling, like an ice cube sliding down your spine.
Everything faded to a dull roar in your ears. The only thing that existed was Eddie, standing there, holding the single most damning object you owned.
He didn’t flip through it with shock or disgust. There was no theatrical recoil. Instead, his thumb brushed against the pages with a strange, focused curiosity. His eyes, wide and dark, weren't judging; they were reading. Absorbing.
He finally looked up, but not at you. His gaze landed on the open textbook on your desk, red tabs that marked actual academics and not fantasies.
A slow, disarming smile started at the corner of his mouth, one that you’d seen a hundred times after a good roll of the D20.
“Y’know,” he said, his voice a low, conspiratorial rumble that felt like it vibrated right through the floorboards. “This… is a much more practical application of power dynamics than our textbooks.”
Your throat was dry.
"Thats not funny, Eddie." You turn, face red. "Give it back."
He tilted his head, studying your blush as intently as he'd studied the book. He didn't move to give it back.
"I promise you, my porn stash is way more embarrassing than this." He waved the book around a little. "At least yours has literary merit."
"It's not porn!" you shot back, your voice a little too loud in the small space. "It's research!"
The excuse sounded flimsy even to your own ears.
Eddie's smile widened. "Research," he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. "For what? Your dissertation on rope burns?"
He was teasing you, but it wasn't cruel. It was… interested. He wasn't making fun of you. He was engaging. He held the book out, not quite close enough for you to snatch back.
"This shit isn't even accurate," he said, tapping a page. "This is all showmanship. They forgot the most important part."
You blinked, confusion warring with humiliation. "What part?"
"The conversation." His eyes met yours, and for a second, the teasing faded. There was something serious there. Something intense but inherently safe.
"Well, the conversation isn't the sexy part." You mutter.
"Oh so you're admitting it's porn now?" He smirks and you narrow your eyes. "And also... the conversation is definitely the sexy part," he added, stepping closer. "It's the whole point."
You held your ground, even though every instinct screamed at you to snatch the book, throw him out, and crawl into a hole for the rest of eternity. Instead, you lifted your chin. "You think so?"
"I'm well versed, yeah."
He finally lowered the book, setting it down on your desk, on top of your sociology textbook. The juxtaposition was dizzying. Academia and anarchy. Theory and practice.
He took another step into your personal space. Close enough that you could smell the faint scent of the joint he smoked outside.
"I'm going to guess you haven't put this into practice yet," he said softly.
You couldn't answer. The lie was stuck in your throat. Because he was right. The book, the fantasies—they'd always been in your head. A private world.
A world he had just stumbled into.
"So tell me," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, looking you directly in the eye. "Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?"
He waited.
And the silence that followed was the loudest thing you'd ever heard.
His question hung in the air between you, shimmering and dangerous.
Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?
It was a test. A doorway. A chance to step out of the theory and into the practice.
"I mean, I don't exactly have a partner to, you know..." Your hands flew up in a vague, helpless gesture. "It's not like I can just walk into a bar and ask 'Hey, any of you guys into safe, effective, and nonjudgmental bondage?'"
The joke landed weakly, but Eddie didn't laugh. He just watched you, like a predator assessing prey. He leaned against your desk, crossing his arms, the casual posture doing nothing to hide the focus in his gaze. He picked up the book again, not to mock you this time, but to flip to a specific, dog-eared page.
"Okay," he said, tapping the pages of a sex scene you had clearly marked with interest. "This, for example. The rope work is all wrong for this position. It would cut off circulation after five minutes."
You blinked. "You... you know about ropes?"
He shrugged. "I have hobbies. Guitar isn't my only practical area of expertise." He met your eyes again.
"I guess that makes sense for your whole... look." You gesture vaguely at him.
That one does make him laugh a little. "Yeah sure the whole aesthetic probably doesn't hurt." He smirks at you, eyes scanning over you again. "But the look is just a bonus. Not a guarantee. I know people who are vanilla as hell who dress like me. And I know people who would put this whole book to shame who wear polo shirts."
You think about that for a second, mulling it over as he speaks again.
"Do you like my 'look' or something? You getting off on the thought of me being the one tying you up?" He teases you, but it's not a joke, not really. It's a question.
The question hung there, an invitation wrapped in a dare. Your cheeks burned, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.
"Okay, light teasing was fine but don't purposely be an ass about this." You warn him, the bite in your words making him raise an eyebrow. "And... yeah. The thought occurred once or twice. I'm not blind." The admission felt like ripping off a band-aid—painful, but necessary.
Something shifted in Eddie's expression. His smirk was softer, like he didn't expect you to admit it. He let it hang in the air for a beat, savoring the victory.
"Once or twice, huh?" he mused. "That's... nice."
He set the book down again, this time closing it. The conversation was moving on, past the fantasy and into reality.
He sits on your bed, not like he usually does where he's just sprawled out with no care in the world. This was different. He sat close to the edge, leaving a space between you, but the air crackled with new possibilities. He rested his hands on his knees, a position that was open, non-threatening, but still completely in control.
"I've thought about it like, way more than once or twice honestly. I've thought about what it would be like with you. So, like, if you want to try some things, or even just talk about them, I'm more than willing to be your partner in crime."
You couldn't speak, but he continued.
"Unless, you know, you'd rather ask that guy from your history class. What's his name? Mark? The one who looks like he was grown in a lab to sell minivans."
"Mark is just my project partner." You roll your eyes. "He's literally been here once to study."
"You laugh at his jokes a lot in the dining hall." He shoots back. "I've seen it."
You had no comeback for that. Because he'd noticed. And you had laughed. But Mark's jokes were safe. They were about midterms and dining hall food. Eddie's jokes were about things that made your stomach flip.
"Okay, that doesn't mean I want to jump his bones. And even if I did, which I don't, how is that even rele--"
It hits you then
"You're jealous." You say it out loud, a statement, not a question.
Eddie didn't flinch. He didn't deny it.
He just shrugged again, that infuriatingly casual gesture that meant everything and nothing.
"I'm territorial about things that interest me," he said simply.
You were no longer just a study partner.
"Look. We've been friends for a while. You know me. You know I'm not a creep. We can just… talk. No touching, no ropes, nothin'. Just words. We lay it all out. Boundaries. What you're curious about. What's an absolute hard 'no'." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering again. "Safe words. Pet names. the whole deal."
He was laying out a curriculum. A syllabus for your most private, secret class. And the professor was the guy who made fun of your D&D character for being too lawful good.
"This is insane," you whispered, the words feeling like bubbles in your chest.
"Is it?" He stood up and walked to your door, closing it and twisting the lock.
"Eddie... what if I say yes?"
He paused, his back to you for a second, before turning around. He leaned against the door, hands in his pockets.
"Then the real research begins." He gave you a small, genuine smile. "But only if you say the word."
The choice was yours.
"Okay." The word was barely a whisper.
He pushed off the door and walked back toward you, gesturing at your bed. "Okay. Rule one. Sit."
You carefully moved from your desk chair and sat on the bed, your back ramrod straight, perched on the very edge of the comforter like it might give way beneath you.
He sat down, leaving a careful foot of space between you. The mattress dipped with his weight, pulling you closer.
"You're tense as all hell, princess. Relax." The pet name was new. It wasn't teasing. It was... grounding.
You tried to unclench your shoulders.
"Let's start easy. Your safe word. It needs to be something you'll remember even if your brain is all fuzzy. Not something you'd normally say during sex. 'No' and 'stop' can be part of the scene. Your safe word is what makes the scene stop. No questions asked."
"Scene? That's so formal. So..."
"It's practical," he corrected gently. "It keeps things from getting messy. So. What'll it be?"
You thought for a moment, your mind racing. "Dragonfruit." It was stupid, random. No one would ever shout it accidentally.
A slow grin spread across Eddie's face. "Dragonfruit. I love it. Okay. That's ours. If you say it, we stop. Everything."
He shifted a little closer, the warmth of him seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.
"Is there anything you like to be called? Or don't like?" He says, more seriously now. "Some people like being called a slut or a whore. Some people like 'good girl'. Some people hate it. There is no right answer, it's all about you."
The directness of the question made your breath catch. "Good girl," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with heat. "I don't think I'm ready for degradation yet..."
Part of you was worried saying that like you'd dissapoint him or something. but he just nodded, like you'd given him a perfectly reasonable answer.
"Alright. 'Good girl' it is. We can save the other stuff for an advanced class." The wink he threw you was both a joke and a promise.
"What about you?" you found yourself asking.
He seemed surprised by the question for a second. "Oh, well, I guess I'm pretty fine with most things. I mean, you could probably call me an asshole and I'd still like it cause it was your voice."
He said it so casually, as if he were discussing his favorite brand of guitar strings, and not the thought of you moaning for him.
"I liked when you called me princess..." You admit. "You could call me that."
"Princess," he repeated, the word soft on his tongue. "I can do that."
He was so close now. You could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
"Okay, new question..." Those big eyes drag down your figure. "Can you come sit on my lap? I want you closer."
He wasn't just asking a question about a hypothetical scenario anymore. This was real. This was happening.
Your body obeyed before your brain could catch up. You slid across the small space between you, the comforter a whisper under your knees, and settled yourself onto his lap.
His big hands went to your waist automatically, steadying you. He was warm, solid. You could feel the worn denim of his jeans against the thin material of your leggings.
"Alright. First lesson." His breath was warm against your ear, making you shiver. "Power isn't about force. It's about control. My control, your surrender."
You nod, mentally taking notes and he smiles before leaning into to whisper in your ear.
"You can always say no." He says gently. "Right now, to me. You can say 'no, Eddie, I don't want to sit on your lap' and I'll let you go, no questions asked. This is still a conversation."
"I know." You say, a little breathless.
"But you aren't going to say that, are you? No... you want this."
"I do."
"Good girl." The words were a low rumble you felt straight between your legs. "I'm going to put my hands on your thighs now. Just to hold you. Alright?"
You could only manage a small nod.
You could feel the weight of his rings through your leggings.
"Looking so pretty, all for me." He whispers and you lean into him, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut. You trusted him. You'd known him for years. He was safe.
This was what he meant, about the conversation. Every touch was a question. Every reaction, an answer.
"Are you going to be good for me?" He asks.
"Y-yeah," you manage. "I'll be good."
His grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction.
"I know you will." He nosed at your neck. "Now, hands behind your back. Let me hold them."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You swallowed, your throat tight, and slowly, deliberately, you moved your arms behind you, lacing your fingers together at the small of your back. The position pushed your chest out, making you feel incredibly vulnerable, incredibly exposed.
He made a soft, satisfied sound.
"Always like it when you wear a low cut top like this." He admits. His hands slid from your thighs to your back, covering your clasped hands with one of his own. The gesture was light, not restrictive, but it felt impossibly final.
His other hand came up to trace the neckline of your shirt, a single finger grazing your collarbone, then dipping lower, following the curve of your breast. He didn't grab, didn't grope. He just… explored. Mapping the territory.
"Your heart's beating so fast," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I can feel it."
You couldn't answer. All your focus was on the path of his finger as it drifted to the peak of your breast, circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra.
"Responsive little thing, aren't you sweetheart?" He teases.
He circles it a few times, making you squirm on his lap and you can already feel the hard length of him through your layers of clothes. The evidence of his own desire.
His other hand still holds your wrists.
"You like your nipples played with? I know you're sensitive." He asks and you nod again. "Let's see more of these pretty tits."
He doesn't ask to take your shirt off. He just does.
He expertly pulls the shirt over your head in one fluid motion, momentarily freeing your hands before he catches them again, this time pressing them more firmly into the small of your back. He then goes for the clasp of your bra and he undoes that too, pulling it down your arms until you're topless for him.
"Look at that." He whispers and it's the most turned on you've ever heard him.
He runs his thumb over the pebbled flesh of your nipple, and your breath hitches. The calloused pad of his thumb created a delicious friction, a direct line of heat pooling in your core.
"I'm going to pinch," he warned, his voice a dark promise. "Just a little. To see how you like it."
You tensed in anticipation.
He didn't make you wait long. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying a slow, deliberate pressure. A sharp, surprising jolt of pleasure-pain shot through you, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.
"Good," he rasped. "You like that."
It wasn't a question. He read your body as easily as he read the tabbed pages of your sociology textbook.
He keeps pinching and playing as he trails soft kisses from your collarbones and lower, purposefully avoiding where you want his mouth. He was kissing all around your breasts, teasing you with featherlight touches until you're squirming and whining.
"Shh, be patient." He whispers against the skin of your breast. "I'll get there."
He does it again to the other breast. The pinch, the pleasure, the feeling of being completely at his mercy. He was testing you, seeing what made you gasp, what made you squirm. And you were arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.
He finally lowered his head, taking one peaked nipple into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. He sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before grazing it lightly with his teeth.
The whimper that left you was undignified. Needy.
He pulled back, releasing you with a soft 'pop'. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with an emotion you'd never seen directed at you before. Possessiveness. Pride. Awe.
"Look what you do to me," he murmured, one of his hands releasing yours to guide your own down, pressing it flat against the hard bulge straining against the denim of his jeans.
"You're going to have to take care of that later, aren't you?" He says, pushing your hips down a little, making you grind against him.
The friction was obscene, a delicious drag through the layers of clothing that sent sparks skittering up your spine. You did it again, a little more boldly, rocking yourself against the rigid length of him. A groan rumbled in his chest, a purely male, primal sound of appreciation.
"Not yet," he said, his grip on your waist tightening, stopping your movements. "That's a reward. And you haven't earned it yet."
He shifted you slightly, adjusting your position so you could feel him more acutely, a perfect, infuriating pressure against your clothed core. His free hand drifted down to the waistband of your leggings. His fingers toyed with the elastic, a casual touch that made your entire body clench with anticipation.
"You're soaked through already, aren't you, princess?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it. All this fuss just from me playing with your pretty tits."
"Is that weird?" You ask, a little nervous now.
"Not at all. It's perfect." He says gently. "It means your body is honest. It tells the truth. And right now, your body is telling me how much you want this."
His fingers dipped below the waistband, not touching you where you craved it most, but just resting against the soft skin there.
"We could stop right now," he offered, his tone maddeningly level. "We can stop anytime you want. We can just put your shirt back on, order a pizza, and fail our sociology midterm together. All you have to do is say one word. Do you remember our word?"
"Dragonfruit," you whispered, testing it on your tongue. It felt foreign, distant. Not what you wanted at all.
"Now, tell me what you do want."
You took a shaky breath. "I want you to touch me."
"Touch you where? You have to use your words."
Every nerve ending was on fire. "My... I want you to touch me between my legs."
"Good girl."
He finally moved, his hand sliding further down, past the damp cotton of your underwear, through your slick folds. He didn't rush, exploring you with a surgeon's precision.
"This pussy is so fucking wet for me, princess." He breathes out in awe.
He found your clit with an unnerving ease, a single finger circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You jolted, a sharp inhale of pleasure.
"Right there?" he asked, feigning innocence.
You could only nod, your head falling back against his shoulder as he continued his slow, torturous circles. He was drawing it out, making you feel every spark, every tremor. You were wound so tight, a trembling knot of need.
Your hips began to move of their own accord, chasing the friction, the building pressure. But he stopped you again, holding you still with a firm grip.
"Uh-uh. My pace," he chided softly. "You don't get to finish until I say you can."
A whimper escaped your lips, a sound of pure frustration.
"Patience," he murmured, kissing your temple.
You notice now, that he hasn't kissed your lips, but you don't make a comment on it, too busy feeling everything else to care.
He was a master of this, a conductor of your pleasure. He varied the pressure, the speed, watching your every reaction, learning what made you gasp, what made you whine. He slipped a finger inside you, then a second, curling them upward to stroke that spot that made your vision blur.
"You think I should let you come soon?" he asked, his voice a dark, intimate rumble. "You've been so good for me. Sitting still. Taking what I give you."
"Please," you begged, the word ripped from you. "Eddie, please."
"Please what?"
"Please let me finish."
He chuckled, a low, wicked sound. "Since you asked so nicely."
He increased the pressure on your clit, the circles becoming faster, more demanding. His fingers inside you stroked with renewed purpose. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, a spring ready to snap.
"That's it, sweetheart. Let go. Soak my fucking hand." he commanded.
You were cumming by the time he said 'let go', your body convulsing in a blinding wave of pleasure. You cried out, your back arching, your hands still trapped behind you, leaving you nothing to hold onto but him. He held you through it, his movements slowing, gentling, as you shuddered and trembled.
When you were riding out the after shocks he released your hands, letting you decide where to put them. You immediately brought them around to his shoulders, clinging to him. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, catching your breath.
His hands came up to your back, stroking you slowly, grounding you. He whispered sweet nothings against your hair, words of praise and affection.
"I know that wasn't as extreme as what your little book had, but trust needs to be built up slowly for things like that." He says softly, kissing your shoulder. "We'll get there.
You could feel the rapid, steady beat of his heart against your cheek. You could still feel the hard press of his arousal against you, a silent testament to his own restraint.
"Eddie..." you whispered, your voice hoarse. "You didn't..."
He shushed you, a finger gently tilting your chin up. "Hey. it's okay. Tonight was about you. About learning you."
You looked at him, really looked at him. His hair was a mess, his lips were swollen from where he'd been kissing your skin, and his eyes were dark and soft and full of an emotion that made your chest ache.
Without thinking, you leaned in and finally, finally kissed him.
He didn't move at first and you pulled back quickly, suddenly feeling stupid.
Was kissing not okay in this arrangement?
Did he only want the physical part?
Did he even like you like that?
Before you could speak, he did it first.
"Hey you, don't look like that. It's not what you think." He says gently.
"I- I just thought..."
"I know what you thought. And it's okay. I wanted to kiss you. More than anything."
"So why didn't you?" You ask, not in an accusatory tone, but a genuinely curious one.
"Because if I kissed you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I wouldn't have been able to handle it if this was just a one-time thing. Or if this was just about sex. I wouldn't have been able to control myself, and we might not be here right now."
This confession was so raw, so vulnerable. It was more intimate than anything you'd done.
"So... what is this then?" You ask, your heart pounding.
"It's whatever you want it to be." He says honestly. "But I want it to be something. Something real."
You lean in again, slowly, giving him the chance to pull away.
He didn't.
He met you halfway, his lips finally claiming yours. It wasn't a kiss of frenzy or desperation. His hands cupped your face, holding you tenderly, as if you were something precious. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of you, of the cola he'd been drinking hours ago. He kissed you slowly, deeply, a conversation without words.
When you finally parted, you were both breathless.
"Do you still want me to do something about..." You trail off, letting your eyes flick down to the very prominent problem in his pants.
He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "Princess, you have no idea how much I want that. But I also want to do this right. So... right now, nothing too demanding, just let me fuck your brains out?"
You laughed, a real, genuine laugh that made your whole body feel lighter.
"You're an idiot."
"You know what?" He says with a teasing smile, before flipping you so he was hovering over you on the bed. "I like it better when you're on your back, anyway."
He made quick work of your leggings and underwear, tossing them aside. He stood up to strip off his own clothes, and you watched him, your gaze hungry. You'd seen him shirtless before, at the lake, at a party, but this was different.
The chain around his neck rested in the dip of his collarbone. His chest was lean, a smattering of dark hair trailing down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. He was all sharp angles and wiry strength. And as he pulled down his boxers, your breath hitched.
"You want this huh? This is what you were grinding against earlier?" He smirks. He was long and thick, flushed with arousal, curving up towards his stomach.
He climbed back onto the bed, settling himself between your legs.
"Take what you want," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
Your hand trembled as you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around him. He was hot and heavy in your palm as you guided him to your entrance, and he pushed forward, just the head breaching you.
A shared gasp. You were so wet, so ready for him, but the stretch was still intense, a delicious burn.
"Oh, good girl, you listen so fucking well," he praised, before sliding the rest of the way home with one slow, deep thrust.
He filled you completely, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Fuck," he breathed, burying his face in your neck. "You feel better than I ever imagined."
He started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. Every drag of his cock against your inner walls was a fresh wave of pleasure. This was different from the sharp, focused intensity from before. This was a deep, all-consuming fire.
"Look at me," he demanded, pulling back just enough to see your face. "Hold on to the headboard."
You obeyed, your hands finding the cool metal bars of your headboard, as he began to move again. This new angle let him hit that spot inside you with every thrust, making your toes curl. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. He was claiming you. Marking you from the inside out.
"Who's making you feel this good?" he grunted, his hips snapping a little faster.
"You are," you moaned, your knuckles white where you gripped the headboard.
"Whose cock makes you feel this good?" He asks, a dark look in his eyes.
"Yours," you gasped, the words torn from you. "Only yours, Eddie."
"Fuck yes, it does." He says, a smirk on his face. "Not some loser from the dining hall." He speeds up a little, getting cocky. "Not your project partner. You wanna know who knows exactly what to do with you? Me." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust and you can't help but arch your back.
"You're mine now, sweetheart. This pussy is mine to use." His voice is a rough possessive rasp as he leans down to whisper softly in your ear. "Gimme a color, princess. Are we green?"
You were so far gone, but you knew what he was asking. "Green," you moaned. "So green, Eddie."
He smiled, a triumphant, feral grin. "Good girl. You want me to keep talking like this, honey? You want me to tell you how I'm going to fuck you every day after our study sessions from now on? How I'm going to bend you over that desk until you're screaming my name?"
"Yes," you whined, a desperate, needy sound. "Please."
"Then I guess I'll have to do it." His hips began to piston faster, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady, rhythmic beat. "Would you like that, sweetheart? To be my good little girl? To cum whenever I say?"
"I would," you cried out. "God, I would."
He brought a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again. He didn't circle it this time. He pressed down, hard, in direct counterpoint to his thrusts.
"Cum for me," he commanded. "All over my cock."
Your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming. You screamed his name, a raw, ragged sound, as you convulsed around him, your body spasming with the force of your release.
"Mmm, gonna wake up the whole dorm." He praised. "Such a good fucking girl." He kept thrusting through it, prolonging your pleasure until you were a sobbing, writhing mess beneath him.
He pulled out and kissed you softly, the kiss slow and deep as you shook under him. You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and insistent.
"You still haven't..." You begin, trailing off again as you try and catch your breath.
"I haven't bent you over the desk yet." He grins, before he pulls you up from your comfortable spot on your back.
His hands were on you instantly, guiding you to your feet and then turning you, walking you the few steps to your desk. He swept his arm across it, the textbook with the red tabs, a stack of flashcards—all of it clattering to the floor in a mess of academic debris.
His lips are kissing by your ear as he speaks, caging you in from behind. "You need me to get a condom?" He asks, and you are a little surprised by the question.
"I'm on the pill." You say quickly, and he makes a happy humming sound, kissing the back of your neck.
"Perfect." He whispers, before he's pressing your chest flat against the desk. The cool wood was a shock against your heated skin.
"Think you can handle a little more for me, baby?" He asked, his hands stroking over your ass.
You nod, your face turned to the side, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood.
"Use your words."
"Yes," you breathe out. "I can handle more."
He doesn't enter you right away. Instead, he kneels, spreading your cheeks, and you feel the hot, wet shock of his tongue against your pussy. He licks a long, slow stripe from your clit to your entrance, groaning at the taste.
"Fuck, you're delicious," he murmurs, before diving back in.
He was relentless, eating you out with a single-minded focus that left you trembling. He alternated between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and pointed, targeted flicks against your clit.
His hands grip at the fat of your ass as he eats you out like a man starved, and you can't help but push your hips back against him. He eats it until your legs are shaking and you're whining for him to stop. When he does, he stands up, his chest heaving.
He pauses and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You glance behind you to see him taking the rings off his right hand, leaning over your back to put them on the desk as he places small kisses on your back.
"What are you..."
Your whisper turns into a whine when a callous palm hits your ass cheek. Not hard, but enough that you gasp at the suddenness.
He shushes you gently, rubbing the reddening mark. "Just a little color for my pretty girl." He murmurs. "You like that? Just a little sting?"
You nod, your mind fuzzy with pleasure and confusion.
"Words, baby." He reminds you.
"Y-yes. I like it."
He spanks you again, this one harder, and you feel the jolt of it deep in your core. He alternates between spanking you and rubbing the tender skin, until you're a quivering, whimpering mess.
Another smack and you don't even register when he lines himself up with your entrance, and glides in, slick and easy, bottoming out with a deep groan. The angle was different, deeper, and it made you feel utterly possessed.
He set a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breaths. One of his hands grabs your face as he leans over to kiss you.
"Taste how fucking sweet you are?" He whispers against your lips. You're nodding dumbly as he continues to fuck you, tongue licking into your mouth.
His other hand slides around your body, finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. It was too much, too intense, and you tried to squirm away.
"Uh-uh. You take it," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
"Take everything I give you, princess." He was praising you, his words stoking the fire in your belly. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasms, every drag of his cock against your walls a fresh wave of pleasure.
"Please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.
More? Faster? For it to never end?
"I know, I know." He cooed at you. "Good girls like you need to be fucked until they can't think straight."
You clenched around him, and he grunted, his rhythm faltering for a second.
"Yeah, you like me saying that, don't you? You like being my good girl." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust that makes you see stars.
Your clit was throbbing under his thumb, the pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. Your body was a live wire, humming with a frantic, desperate energy.
"Gonna cum," you sobbed, the words barely intelligible. "Eddie, I'm gonna cum."
He pressed you down more against the desk, his hips snapping faster, harder. He leans over your back so you can feel the sweat from his chest on your skin as he speaks right into your ear.
"Come on," he urged, his voice rough with strain. "Cum for me. One. More. Fucking. Time."
You whined out, needier than ever, as your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down on him. Your legs gave out, and you would have collapsed to the floor if he hadn't been holding you up, pinning you to the desk.
He gathered your hair in one of his hands, pulling your head back slightly, the angle new and dizzying as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm. This let him see your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. He looked wild, untamed, his pupils blown wide with lust.
"That's it, baby. Milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl." He moans as he starts to lose the steady rhythm. You could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate.
"Gonna fill you up," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "Mark this pretty little pussy as mine."
With a final, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, and you felt the hot pulse of his release deep inside you. He stayed there for a long moment, his forehead resting against your back, both of you breathing heavily, trying to come back to earth.
His hand in your hair changed from a grip to soothing stokes
His fingers danced up your body from their ruthless attack of your clit, to splay across your stomach. You feel him press gently. He was still inside of you. Softening, but still present.
"You okay?" he murmured against your spine, the words muffled by his soft kisses to your skin.
You managed a weak nod, not trusting your voice.
He laughed softly, the vibration traveling through you. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
He slowly pulled out, and the emptiness you felt was acute. You could feel his release begin to trickle down your thigh, a sticky, intimate reminder of what you'd just done.
He helped you to the bed, tugging you back into his arms. You both were sweaty, sticky, and your room was a mess. You couldn't bring yourself to care.
You curled into his side, your head on his chest. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart was a comforting anchor in the haze of satiation.
His hands never stopped caressing through your hair.
He was quiet for a long time, just stroking your hair and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.
"So," he said, his voice quiet. "Is the reality better than the book?"
You thought about it for a second. The book was theory. This was practice. This was real.
"I thought you said you weren't done with me?" You manage, weakly.
He just pulls his head back enough to get a proper look at your face, the most genuine smile accentuated by his dimples.
"Yeah, the aftercare. The cuddles. The praise. That's all part of it." He said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Being the one who has to clean up our mess."
He sits up, leaning over the side of the bed to grab the t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier. He carefully, almost reverently, began to clean you up. The cotton was soft against your sensitive skin.
"You're so good at that," You say softly, referring to the entire night, but more specifically the way he was taking care of you.
"Yeah? Well I'm a man of many talents." He teases, but the way he's looking at you is soft.
He's gentle, methodical, as he wipes away the evidence of your night together. Once he's satisfied, he tosses the shirt aside and pulls the comforter over both of you, cocooning you in the warmth of the small bed.
You're quiet for a long time again. Just listening to each other breathe.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hm?"
"About the kiss earlier..." he started, his voice a little hesitant. "When I said I didn't know if I could handle it if this was just a one-time thing... I meant it."
He shifts a little, so he's looking you in the eye. "This was never gonna be just a one-time thing for me. You have to know that. I've been wanting this for so long."
You are looking up at him in the dim light of your desk lamp. He's looking at you with a unguarded expression that you'd never seen from him before.
"You really have? I thought... I thought this was just... you know, because of the book."
He let out a small, breathy laugh. "Sweetheart, the book was just a convenient excuse. A cosmic sign from the universe to finally do something about the massive, soul-crushing crush I've had on you since we were assigned as lab partners in freshman chemistry."
His signature smirk reappeared then.
"The fact that you're also into the same filthy shit I am? That's just a very, very lucky bonus."
You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated happiness.
"So, what now?" You ask, your voice barely a whisper.
"Now I get to enjoy this body being all soft in my arms." He says, kissing your forehead. "Now I get to wake up next to you and make you breakfast. Now I get to walk you to our sociology class and sit next to you knowing exactly what you sound like when you orgasm."
He pulls you closer. "And now I get to tell you that I want to be your boyfriend. If you'll have me."
You tilt your head up to look at him, a slow, genuine smile spreading across your face.
"I'll have you," you said simply.
"Oh, no enthusiasm for the man who made you cum three times in an hour?" He teases gently. You just lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet.
"I think you fucked all the enthusiasm out of me." You mumble against his lips.
He chuckles, satisfied and proud.
"It's a skill." He smirks. "But don't worry. I'm a great teacher. We'll build up your stamina." He winks, and you feel a fresh wave of heat wash over you.
He pulls you to his chest, safe and warm. You could get used to this.
"Next time," he whispers against your hair. "Next time I'll bring my ropes."
You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I'll hold you to that."
He held you tighter, a silent promise. The night wasn't over. Your time exploring each other, it seemed, had really just begun.
I'm tired of this new wave of fandom culture where people don't interact with each other. Reblog this with which ST man you believe cries after sex (and feel free to elaborate on why).
My pick is Steve and it's immediately following the first time you actually try for a baby.
Eddie cries after sex. If his partner just wanted to get laid and left him right after doing it, he cries cause he was used and dumped.
If he's with a partner who stays and is happy to be with him, he also cries. But this time cause he never thought he could be loved by someone who isn't related to him.
If he just had an amazing orgasm, he sheds some tears that are quickly brushed off by his hand.
Regardless of the scenario, Eddie cries after sex.
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️18+: a beloved character makes an appearance, a lot of angst, omegaverse talk, angst, more angst, a little bit of more angst, hurt/comfort, fluff
wc: 10.3k
A/N: sorry i took a while, i wasn't that much inspired but HEY we're moving forward!
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 31
Fuck it was hot.
It was so hot in the office, even though the AC was on. Wearing sweaters and long-sleeve shirts at the beginning of summer was not ideal, but you really had no choice. What were you going to tell people? 'Oh, yeah, that's a bite from my Alpha boyfriend, which by the way, did you know secondary genders might not be entirely extinct?'
Your wound was closed, but it still had scabs on it, and there were marks. You just thought that, if it healed a bit more, you could have the absolute excuse that Eddie just went overboard while having sex. Right now, it really did look like skin was torn off. It's only been a week since his first rut with you, and on Wednesday, after work, you both went to Murray's clinic.
Eddie explained what had happened, and the doctor took note of every single detail. It was important for him to know every last thing about what Eddie was feeling and what his body made him do in that state of euphoria. But he left out the part where he bit you. He was ashamed of hurting you. He didn't want people to think that he could ever hurt his mate in the way he did.
He was also angry at Murray because the bald man did say this time would be different for Eddie, but he still should have given him a stronger suppressant if he knew it would happen.
The wound was closing, healing, and you knew that if you were an Omega, it wouldn't close, at least not entirely, not the way it was now, and that broke your heart. Eddie's shoulder from your bite was completely healed by now, no red marks, no scars, but his bite on you was fierce. His fangs came out, enlarged, and you wished you could have seen that. You wished you could have seen what you were making him feel. How much control he lost, just by the simple need to mark you as his forever.
Yet, there was one conversation you had with Murray while Eddie was in the bathroom, and you were left alone with the doctor
"Murray…"
"Hmm?" He asked while he was looking at his tablet,
"Eddie, in his rut… He said something to me… Something that really stuck with me. I didn't tell him because I didn't want to make him uncomfortable…" He stopped for a second and looked your way.
"Did he do something?" You looked down, shaking your head.
"No… It's— He said he," You took a sharp intake of breath before continuing, feeling your cheeks heat up from embarrassment. "He said he couldn't wait to… See me pregnant. To have his kids… His… Pups?"
Murray almost looked flabbergasted at your information, nodding a little in understanding. It seemed that Eddie might have told him what happened to you, because regarding pregnancy and kids, he was very careful around you now.
"It was normal in the past for Alphas and Omegas to sync their heats and ruts together to conceive." He started explaining, his finger back to typing on the tablet. "It was a higher chance, and I'm sure Edward explained it to you, but in heats and ruts, your rationality wasn't your best friend."
"He did tell me that…" Murray nodded, looking back up at you.
"The Alpha part of him decided you are his mate, so it's normal for an Alpha to want to see their mate have their pups." You blinked a few times, looking up at him.
"And so… it was a heat-of-the-moment thing?" You asked, a little afraid of the answer. You didn't know why you were so scared, but he could sense it. He could sense everything.
"Alphas are very vocal during their ruts… Their desires show. And from old texts and research, when an Alpha mates with an Omega, it's for life, and that includes a family." Your eyes sparked with hope, looking up at him.
"I know it's impossible, but— He said, I'll make sure it takes." You finished talking, and Murray sighed, shaking his head.
"As I said, rationality is not your best friend in that moment. Edward knows about… your situation. His Alpha not so much."
You were taken out of your thoughts by a knock on your office door.
"Come in!" You yelled out, and you weren't expecting the person who was entering. Liana was holding onto her big belly as she walked your way, a smile on her face. You smiled widely, rushing around your desk to hug her, making sure not to smush the belly in between.
"Why are you wearing heavy clothes in this weather!?" She exclaimed, and you pulled away, trying to look for an excuse, any at all.
"Uh, well, the AC made me a bit sick the other day, so I bundled up! Just for good measure!" You forced a smile, and she laughed, shaking her head as she took a seat, grunting a bit as she plopped down.
"Maybe I'm overreacting. This baby just gives me waves of heat, and I have to remember that not everybody feels those." You smiled at her words, fascinated now as you sat next to her, looking down at her belly. She noticed your eyes and nodded at it. "Well, come on, you're in luck. He is dancing all over in there."
You bit your bottom lip, your hand reached forward and pressing on the soft belly, pressing your fingers a little bit so that the baby notices you. You waited for a few seconds, and suddenly, a kick. You jumped a bit, laughing as you looked at it with amazement. Then another, then another, and your smile turning into a wince.
"That must not be fun." Liana sighed and nodded.
"Not when you are trying to sleep, no. But hey, just two more months, and he is popping out!" You nodded, your eyes falling back down to your hand. A wave of anguish suddenly hit you, as if you needed to cry. But fuck, you shouldn't. You really shouldn't. "Sweetheart, you alright?"
"Oh, yeah… I— Just, I'm amazed, that's all."
"You wanna have your own?" She asked, and in all honesty, you never talked to Liana about your past or what you wanted in the future. You gulped, nodding, taking your hand away.
"I do… Very much."
"Well, is that boyfriend of yours looking good?" She asked, and you looked up at her, a bright smile on your face. Liana laughed, pointing at you. "That face tells me all I need to know!"
"He is amazing. He really is."
The relationship you had with your boss, you knew it wasn't traditional. Gladly, no one in the company thought that you got to be a CEO replacement just because you're in good terms with the lead. Everyone knew you worked hard, and they all knew about your accomplishments. But Liana was not only a good friend, but she also protected you whenever it was needed. Maybe she was the closest thing you had to a second mom. Maybe a cool aunt.
Which reminds you, you should call your mom.
"Oh, there was another reason I came here for—" Liana started, and you rolled your eyes.
"I knew it wasn't to visit me."
"Hush, you." She opened her phone, looking down at the screen, searching for an email. "I got contacted by the manager of a model who might do well for the Jean Paul Gaultier campaign. This is a big step in your career, and I would take it myself, but I think you should have this opportunity."
Your eyes widened, shaking your head as nerves filled up your stomach. Taking charge? With such a big client? And a model? You had done this before, even Billy with Dior, but this? This was actually kind of bigger, because you had met with the vice president of Gaultier. He knew you, he liked you, and he was trying to show off his designs in your magazine, with their own model.
"Me? Are you serious? This is way too much, I mean— Gaultier!? The whole account and the whole article?" You asked, and Liana's eyes widened, straightening up to calm you down.
"I will be with you in every step—"
"You will be with a child soon, I can't bother you with it! Oh god, what if I mess it up? What if the model doesn't like us? It's one thing to search for the model ourselves, but what if I mess it up completely with their model and their campaign?" You were rambling, the anxiety eating your stomach away.
"Okay, I need you to breathe, please." She took a deep breath, and you followed, and then held it for a few seconds before letting out. You repeated it five times until she saw you calming down. "I didn't think you would get this nervous…"
"Liana, it's a big client, like huge. We met with their VP, and because of that interaction, they decided to go forth with us. Not only that, but saving us the trouble of finding a model? Has this ever happened to you?" You asked, hopeful, seeing Liana wince a little bit.
"Yes and no. They brought in the model, and I didn't like them… And they broke the campaign completely… Chanel." Okay, that didn't help your nerves at all, sighing heavily as you put your face in your hands.
"Do I just pretend everything is okay? What if I lose this, Liana? It's a lot of money involved, like millions, and much more if it works out…" Liana patted your shoulder, nodding in understanding, a small reassuring smile forming on her lips.
"I made you my replacement for a reason. I care for you, but I also see your qualities and the way you work. You remind me of myself at a younger age. If it goes wrong, it just goes wrong. We move on."
That calmed you down a lot, looking at her as if she had just given you a fifteen-hour massage on your body. This meant that if it somehow ended up in shambles, Liana wasn't going to put it on you. She wasn't going to blame you for anything, and she will remain with the decision of putting you as her replacement in the future.
"Alright… I guess I'd better start knowing what I'm getting myself into. Send me the contract, the model's information, and the manager. I'm getting that goddamn campaign."
"Now, that's my girl."
You arrived home with heavy steps, your eyes heavy as you walked through your kitchen, opening the fridge to get some water out.
Gaultier had some interesting designs, and their model was interesting too, but you were worried the designs would not fit the model's body at all. You could try to make it work, but it would require a lot of stylists to get involved.
You grabbed your phone out of your pocket as you poured yourself a glass and checked your messages. You smiled as you saw Eddie sending you an emoji of puppy dog eyes, wondering when will you come to his place. Your smile faltered a bit, feeling your legs giving up on you. You didn't expect to get so tired from reading so much, but you felt drained.
You didn't want to cancel on Eddie. You never did, but today, you just didn't feel like making one more single step. You just wanted to crawl into your bed and lie there, looking at the ceiling. But you also wanted him. You wanted to be in his arms, and you wanted him to feed you pringles as you watched a movie.
Sighing, you texted him back,
'I wish I had the energy to drive, but I actually can't…'
'What's wrong?'
'I'm just so tired, I had a long day, and I think my brain is shutting down.'
You saw him type, then untype, then type again.
'I'm coming over, I'll even bring pizza 🫡' You giggled, shaking your head.
'Courting me again, Munson?'
'Never stopping.'
You hugged the phone to your chest, wondering just how much more you could love this man. You didn't know what you did to deserve him, or what you did for your dynamic to change into this, but you were beyond questioning it anymore.
You walked towards your room, getting yourself comfortable in your pajamas, taking your makeup off, with a skincare band pulled over your head, and pushing back your hair. Bunny ears and all.
Suddenly, your phone started ringing, and you looked down, smiling as you saw it was your mom. You put the phone against the vanity mirror, using the front camera, and sliding up to answer the phone. Your mom's face comes on screen, a smile on her face.
"Hello, how's my girl doing! I read your texts about work!" She exclaimed excitedly, and you sighed, shaking your head.
"I'm fucking tired, mom. I don't know how I'm going to handle it, because if I got this tired today, imagine the days the campaign actually starts to take shape." You said as you rubbed serum on your face with a roller. She hummed, shaking her head.
"It might or it might not! You don't know that. It might be smooth as hell, or…" She dragged on, not wanting to finish the sentence, and you raised your eyebrows at her.
"Impending doom?"
"I didn't say that."
"The replica of the big bang?"
"You're exaggerating." She laughed at you, and you smiled, feeling your nerves and the tension falling apart as you talked with your mom… who seemed giddy about something. You squinted at her, stopping from opening the face mask bag.
"Okay, you are hiding something…" She exaggerated her features with surprise, her head moving side to side.
"Nope, not at all."
"Mom…?" You tried again, and finally she sighed, a smile on her face.
"I may have, or may not have, booked a trip over there for this weekend."
Your mouth almost fell open at that. Seeing your mom? It's been a while since your last trip over there, but her coming over for you was something different. She would see your house for the first time, you had to make it look clean and tidy— Maybe buy more plants, or more paintings, or make it prettier.
"You're— coming here?"
"Yeah! What do you think?" She asked, and honestly, you were in shock. Too shocked. Suddenly, your smile broke on your lips, excitement finally showing on your features.
"Yes! Oh my god, I can take you to the office, even if it's a weekend, I have access— You can see my house—"
"And I will meet your friends… and your boyfriend."
And your blood ran cold.
You didn't think of that. You didn't think of Eddie. Of your mother meeting Eddie. Why hadn't you thought of that? Why hadn't you ever thought you would have to present Eddie to your mom? How couldn't that have crossed your mind?
"I… I—"
"Oh god, are you— Is he not—" Your mother asked worriedly, a frown on her face, and you snapped out of it, shaking your head.
"No! No, we are— We are still together, and we are great… I just… I think I'm nervous as fuck now…" Your mom nodded a bit, and you saw her chewing the inside of her cheek.
"Baby… After what you went through, I would really like to meet him and have a talk with him."
"Mom, you really don't have to—"
"I do. I really do." Oh god, oh no,
"Okay. Okay…" You tried to force a smile through your nerves, the weight of lying to your mom about yourself also starting to eat you away. She smiled your way, nodding for good measure.
"Alrighty then. I will see you in two days! Love you!" You responded automatically, still digesting what had just happened.
"Love you too," And then she hung up.
You were frozen on your vanity, looking at your screen as if a bomb had just been dropped on your shoulders. Your mom wants to meet Eddie, wants to make sure he will commit, but how do you tell her it's not necessary? How could you tell your mother that your boyfriend wants you forever? That your boyfriend is an Alpha and marked you as his, as if you were an Omega? How do you tell your mother that she doesn't have to worry without her asking questions?
Oh fuck, and you have never told her about your own condition, of what your insides had morphed into. You assumed you couldn't tell her, that there was probably no need whatsoever to do so, but now— How the hell were you supposed to keep calm?
"Honey, I'm home!" You jumped in your seat, rattling the table, and Eddie walked into your bedroom, a smile on his face, "I brought in some pizza, and also some beers— Wait, what's wrong?"
He didn't even see your face. He could just smell the distress, and he rushed to your side in an instant. You looked up at him with panic set in your face.
"Mom…" His eyes widened, kneeling next to you, grabbing your hand tightly.
"Is she okay? Did something happen to your mom?" You slowly shook your head, your eyes still wide with worry.
"No… She is coming to visit." His features turned into those of confusion, tilting his head in question.
"Wait, that's… good, right?"
"To meet you."
And now it was Eddie's turn to freeze up. He had never met the parents of a partner before. He had never been questioned, or he didn't have to worry about making a good impression. He actually forgot his mate's mother, and how, at some point, he would have to meet her.
And he paled over.
"Oh, fuck… Oh, shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck—" He got up, starting to pace around the room as his thoughts kept running and running, and you watched, kind of figuring out that this was going to be his reaction.
"Eddie, we can do it, it's just— It's just meeting my mom!" You forced a smile, a nervous one at that. You were happy, you really were, but the nerves were completely overlapping that happiness. Eddie turned to look at you, panic in his face.
"I never had to do this. Wayne liked you instantly, and we weren't even together officially, but your mom— Fuck, I… I never met anyone's family before, and you are very important, and if your mom doesn't like me, I'm—"
"She will like you Eddie, nothing is gonna go wrong!" You got up from your seat, walking over to him, your hands coming to rub on his arms. He was burning up, and he had a frown just stuck in the middle of his forehead.
"No… If she doesn't like me… I will fight for you." He said without looking at you, and you tilted your head, wondering what that meant.
"I mean, I hope you do, but there will be no need to do that. If she doesn't, which I doubt, she—" But he interrupted you, his eyes sharp.
"I'm afraid I'll snap."
"That you'll snap?"
"If she tells me I'm not good enough for you… I can't leave you… And that is going to end up badly. I'm an Alpha, and you are my mate. I would fight anyone and anything who tries to take you away from me."
In a romance novel, this would have been the happiest comment you would receive from the main character. But in this reality, this comment scared you. You were sure your mom would never decide for you; she would never tell you that you couldn't date someone just because she didn't like them.
But Eddie's Alpha would not take any comment too kindly. And you could already feel the anger brewing, his eyes sharpening, his muscles tightening, as if there was any chance that would happen. As if there was any chance that someone could make you leave him.
You grabbed his face in between your hands, making him look at you.
"I would never leave you. No matter what. Nobody can make me leave you, not even my own mother." That comment made him untense, relaxing in your hold completely, his eyes closing with a wince.
"I'm sorry… It's just, everything is new and I…" You shook your head at him, pulling his face down to you so you could peck his lips. He sighed, his eyes opening again, and a smile finally formed on his lips.
"My mom isn't that scary. I promise."
"Well, you're scary sometimes, and that's hereditary." He joked, and you flicked his nose, making him wince. He then grabbed onto one of the ears of your headband and pulled it down to cover your eyes. You screamed, and you pinched both his cheeks, making him grunt, and finally, he tackled you into the bed, wrestling you.
The playfulness made you laugh and smile, and you hoped it stayed that way.
You really hoped.
"And here is my humble abode." You smiled widely, opening the door for your mother to walk in with her luggage.
She came in, mesmerized by everything, looking at your bookshelf, then your kitchen, and the couch. She looked at the pictures on the wall, pictures where your friends were, Liana, her, and also pictures you hung up with Eddie.
"These are cute." She worded out, and you sighed a bit in relief at that, but not chanting victory yet. Okay, she thought your pictures with Eddie were cute.
"Yeah, you can leave your bag in my room, and we can get ready to go to Jonathan's bar so you can meet everyone." You said trying not to let the nerves eat you away, or make them known. You weren't going to tell her you were shitting your pants about her meeting your friends and Eddie.
"Oh, I am so excited! I haven't gone out to a bar in years!" She rushed to your room and just started looking all around, commenting on the vanity, the little knick-knacks, and you followed her just to stand in front of your closet as she rambled on and on. You were looking through your clothes absentmindedly, trying to calm your thoughts.
You took off your shirt, leaving you in your bra, and grabbed a new one. Suddenly, your mom grabbed your elbow gently, making you turn to face her. She had a worried frown on her face, looking at you as if she had just seen a ghost.
"What's wrong?"
"What's that on your shoulder?"
You felt your body freeze over. The one person that should not have seen it, or at least, the last one that should have, was now looking at the bite mark, which was better, but still very noticeable on your shoulder.
"I uh… It's… a bite?" You didn't know what to say, or who to blame, the only thing on your eardrums was your heartbeat and the blood flowing all through your body.
"Did he do that to you?" She asked, and you grumbled, getting your arm away from her grasp.
"I really don't want to explain my intimacy with you." You tried to be snarky, jokingly even, but your mom didn't move an inch.
"Intimacy? That's— One thing is… that kinky biting, but this was brutal. There's scabs! He tore your flesh off!" She exclaimed, and you turned your head to face her again, wanting her to drop the subject.
"Maybe he got a little carried away, but it's fine! I'm fine! I'm okay with it!" You could see she was not happy with your answer, and you gulped as she turned towards her bag again without another word. You closed your eyes, cursing at yourself for not being more careful. Fuck, you hoped she would be nice to Eddie.
You got dressed in something simple. Short-sleeved, and enough to cover your wound, while your mom put herself in a dress. You weren't going to tell her that people didn't dress like that for bars anymore, but it seemed that your own mother wanted to make a good impression on your friends… and boyfriend. Hopefully.
"Okay, I'm ready." She finished applying some mascara, and you were fumbling with your fingers, gulping heavily.
"Mom? Can you… not mention what you saw to the others? We keep it private with Eddie…" And fuck, that did not help your case. Your mother looked at you through the mirror, squinting a little.
"That he hurts you?" Your eyes widened, shaking your head desperately.
"No! God no! He doesn't hurt me, but I don't want them to think wrongly, like the way you are probably doing right now." Every word that came out of your mouth just worsened the situation. You could see the displeasure in your mom's features, and you couldn't believe that you were being this stupid.
"Sure." She pointedly answered, and you sighed in relief, which didn't go unnoticed by her. It was a little bit awkward as you two got ready to go out, but it loosened up when she got into your car, and you drove her around towards the bar. She was looking at the city, at the small apartment buildings, at the shops, and at the park.
You parked the car and got out of it, your mom following right behind. You took a deep breath in before you both entered the bar, which thankfully was not crowded. Your mom looked around in awe, smiling at how well decorated it was. How retro it felt.
"Oh, this kind of setting brings back memories. He has a nice bar." She commented, and you nodded, spotting your friends at the biggest booth in the back. Even Jonathan was sitting, using his day off to meet your mother.
"Yeah. Come on, they're over there." You frowned as you didn't spot Eddie at all, walking towards the booth, feeling as if your knees were going to give out at any given moment. When you finally reached the table, they all stopped talking, getting up with a smile on their faces. The first one to talk, as always, was Argyle.
"Well! You said your mom was visiting brochacha, not your sister!" You rolled your eyes at his comment, but your mom giggled, waving him off.
"What a charmer. You must be Argyle." His eyes widened, smiling widely.
"Did my hair give me away?"
"The brochacha." She said with a laugh, and he gave her a nod, putting his hand behind Eden's back.
"This is my girlfriend, Eden, the coolest girl you will ever meet." Eden blushed, reaching over to shake your mother's hand.
"Your makeup is amazing!" Your mom said excitedly, and Eden beamed, smiling widely. This was going better than you thought, which was surprising.
"Thank you!" She sat back down with Argyle, and then Jonathan reached for your mother's hand, a smile on his face.
"I'm Jonathan. Nice to meet you." She shook his hand, nodding.
"Your bar is incredible, darling." He blushed at the praise, rubbing the back of his neck. You were surprised to see Jonathan looking so embarrassed, yet proud of himself.
"Thank you for that ma'am." Steve then followed, shaking your mother's hand as well.
"I'm Steve, Jonathan's boyfriend."
"Oh, this is the one you mentioned with the hair!" She pointed at him, and you sighed, rubbing your forehead in embarrassment.
"Mom." But Steve puffed his chest, a big smile showing on his lips.
"Great, isn't it?" Your mom nodded, laughing, and Nancy rounded the table to greet her.
"I'm Nancy, nice to finally meet you!"
"Same to you, sweetheart. My daughter tells me you are a reporter?"
"Very good one at that." Robin chimed in, standing next to your mom. She looked at your best friend, and Robin turned red, and you knew her mouth was going to start rambling. "I'm Robin! I work with your daughter, with your great daughter, who is an amazing friend, and she told me so much about you, and honestly, you sound amazing too, so I guess it's hereditary—"
"Of course you are Robin!" Your mom said with a big smile, giving her a hug. Your eyes widened at that, but your heart softened because she knew how much Robin meant to you. How if it weren't for Robin, you would not have the friends you have now… nor Eddie.
"Oh, wow, I didn't expect a hug." Your best friend hugged back nervously, and then she frowned, looking at you questioningly. "Wait, what did she mean 'Of course you're Robin'?"
Your eyes widened, shrugging. You would never tell Robin that you told your mom that she rambles on and on sometimes. Much more when she is nervous. You guided your mom to sit on the booth, next to Argyle, and you sat down next to her, right on the edge. You looked around, worryingly.
"Where's Eddie?" You asked, and Steve pulled out his phone, trying to check if he had any messages, frowning.
"Uh, not a clue. He didn't message us or anything." He didn't message you either. He just said he was going to show up, but he wasn't here. You started growing impatient as your mother engaged in conversation with Eden and Argyle.
Did Eddie bail on you? Did he get scared? Your mom wasn't that bad, but maybe he was afraid either way? He made it known how nervous he was about this situation, but he still promised to show up. He promised to meet your mom. You wanted him to meet your mom, even if—
Your eyes widened as you spotted him coming in… Not really looking like Eddie.
He was wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt, buttoned all the way up to his neck, covering all of his tattoos. He had it tucked inside his dress pants, looking as if he worked in an office. His hair was tied back, neatly, not a single strand falling off on his face. What the actual fuck.
You weren't the only one stunned; everyone stopped talking, including your mom as he walked over. You showed pictures of Eddie to your mom, and this was definitely not the same man.
"Uh—" Jonathan started, and Eddie cut in. His voice was a little higher than usual. Oh, he was fucking nervous, and you winced as you heard him talk.
"Nice to meet you, ma'am. I'm sorry I'm late, I was getting a little more presentable." He smiled nervously, looking at the entire table, finally landing on your mom, who was staring at him as if he were a ghost. You fumbled on your seat, getting up to stand next to Eddie, grabbing his arm.
"I um— Mom, this is Eddie, my boyfriend. You know that." You giggled a little choked up, because this entire situation was awkward. Way too awkward. No one was talking at all, and Eddie was choking himself with this shirt all up towards his neck. Your mom hummed, getting up from her seat to walk towards Eddie, and you braced yourself. Your smile faltered when you saw her put her hand out for him to shake.
Why didn't she hug him? Eddie is as important as Robin, so why—
"Nice to meet you, Edward." You heard Robin wince a bit, and you could feel your heart thrumming in your ears. Eddie gulped, shaking your mom's hand, and you noticed how his face twitched, falling for a second, and you knew he could smell your mother's scent… And it didn't seem like it was a good one.
"O-Okay! Let's order some drinks! On the house!" Jonathan almost screamed with a wide smile, forcing it all the way up to his eyes. Your mom sat back down again, and you looked at Eddie, frowning, pulling him down to press a kiss on his cheek, taking a moment to whisper.
"What are you doing?"
"Failing at making a good impression." He whispered back, and he pulled away from you, sitting down right in front of your seat, which was an action that caught your mom's attention. You knew he felt a bit defeated now, but the night was young, and he could still manage to salvage the situation. You sat next to your mom with a sigh, and you could see Eddie just pointedly looking at your mother talk.
And for the whole night, your mother didn't talk to him at all.
You were getting infuriated, and everyone noticed, even Eddie. His attention left your mom completely, focusing on you. You were his priority now, and your own family was making you feel bad. He didn't like that.
But you were willing to give it another try. Just one more. It seemed your mom really liked Nancy and Argyle, surprisingly, and you were stunned when she accepted weed offer from your friend. You could feel a foot reaching to touch yours underneath the table, and you looked up to see Eddie staring at you with worry.
You shook your head, waving him off, that everything was fine. But you knew that Eddie could smell you weren't.
Finally, it was time to leave, and after bidding everyone goodbye, it was just Eddie, your mom, and you, standing outside the bar. She looked at you, a smile on her face.
"Well, it was lovely. I enjoyed it very much, but I'm ready to head back and lie down—"
"Eddie is coming over." You pointedly say. Your boyfriend and your mom froze up, looking at you, but your face was determined, daggers shooting at your mother.
"I— Don't worry, I don't want to be in between you and your mom, Peach—" You shook your head at Eddie, making him close his mouth.
"I think you need to get to know my boyfriend better, privately. Don't you think so, Mom?"
Your mom was not a bad person. She really wasn't, so that's why you were angry. You were angry at everything. Eddie changing his appearance to be likable to your mom, but your mom not even giving him the time of day, even if he put that effort in. So you were going to make her.
"I mean, we can, but maybe tomorrow?" She tried, and you shook your head.
"Now. Eddie, follow us behind." With that, you walked to your car, your mom looking at Eddie once before she followed towards the passenger's seat. You turned to look at your boyfriend for a second, and he was confused, worried, giving you a single nod before he walked away to where he parked.
You got in, and your mother just looked at you worriedly as she buckled herself in her seat. You put the car on drive, and she noticed how you weren't talking, gulping a bit as the air inside the car was a little tense.
"Your friends are nice…" She said sweetly, with a smile, but your face was not changing, still looking forward onto the road.
"And what about my boyfriend?" Your mom's demeanor changed, souring just a tiny bit, looking away from you.
"He is okay."
"You didn't even talk to him. You didn't look his way."
"I was talking to other people, sorry for not prioritizing him." She replied snarkily, and you never saw your mom act this way. You never had a problem like this with her, and that was only putting log into the flames, because Eddie was it. Eddie was it for you.
"Great, that's why we are heading home, so you can get to know him privately." And the ride remained silent. This was not going to be a nice talk unless your mom put in the effort. Once you got to your apartment, you waited for Eddie before going up to your house.
You saw him park a few cars away, and you could see how he took a deep breath in before moving your way. You didn't know what to feel anymore. You didn't know how to act in this situation because you thought your mom would love Eddie. You always tell her about him through messages, and she responds with hearts and smiley faces.
Was she pretending?
"Well, let's go upstairs, and I'll make some coffee." You said flatly, walking inside first, and Eddie stepped away to let your mom through first. It felt as if you were about to yell at two toddlers for messing up. As if you were about to go crazy on them, because that's how you felt.
The elevator was silent, and the air was thick with tension and nerves. The awkwardness and embarrassment bouncing on the walls and mirrors. Your mom wasn't talking, Eddie wasn't talking, and you didn't know who to blame for this lack of communication.
Once inside your house, you guided them to sit on the couch, together, and they hesitated for a second, before Eddie let your mom take a seat first, then he sat a cushion away from her. Good enough.
"Alright. Get to know him." You commanded, turning around to start making some coffee, trying not to let your anger take over you. Everything was burning. Everything felt like a furnace in your body, and you couldn't quite pinpoint why this was happening.
"I… Okay… Um… Eddie, my daughter told me you are a mechanic?" She asked, looking at your boyfriend, who wasn't looking at her. His eyes were stuck on your back, worriedly. Your scent was spicy, pungent, with not an ounce of sweetness in it. "Edward?"
That snapped him out, looking at her, "I— Yes. I own a shop actually, and my home is right upstairs. It's an old fire department."
"That's great! Yeah… And um… She told me you play guitar?" Your mom heard the coffee maker make sounds, and she turned to look at you again, but you were still turned around, preparing cups. Eddie's eyes followed back, now stuck to your back again, feeling his chest warming more.
Your mom looked at Eddie, who wasn't answering her question. She tilted her head at how intensely he was looking at you, and his face looked angry. She frowned herself, now straightening up, her eyes squinting as she continued speaking,
"Edward, I asked you something." Your ears perked up at the tone your mom just gave Eddie. This was making you grip the cup in your hands, looking at the counter as you felt ringing in your drums. Eddie's resolution failed, feeling like he was getting choked up, opening the first few buttons of his shirt, before turning to look at her.
"Maybe we shouldn't have this conversation now." He sharply responded, taking your mom aback, as well as yourself.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. We should talk when your daughter doesn't feel distraught." Your head whipped over your shoulder, and you realized Eddie was getting worked up.
"My daughter wanted us to get to know one another, so that we shall."
"I will not." Eddie made a final statement, and your eyes widened, looking at how your own mother's eyes sharpened, and you felt your heart thrumming in your throat.
"Well, then I invite you to leave so I can talk with her—"
"Oh no. She is coming with me, ma'am." He gave your mother a humorless chuckle, as if your mom just told him the best joke alive, but she didn't know the reasoning behind his words. She didn't know why he was behaving like this, and from everything she saw, from everything she heard you say, your mother thought the worse.
"I won't let you hurt my daughter." Eddie's eyes widened, his chest reddened, because the audacity that your mother had, thinking that he would ever hurt you in any way, that he would cause you any harm, was fucking stupid.
"Hurt her? I believe you're doing that job now, ma'am." At that, your mother stood up, pointing at the door with an angered look on her face.
"Get out, now!" And you had enough. You slammed the cup on the counter, or rather, you threw it, shattering it into pieces. Their heads whipped to look at you, and you were breathing heavily, your eyes glaring at your mother.
"You don't get to kick him out. You don't know SHIT, mom! Why can't you fucking see he makes me happy!? Why can't you see beyond the first impression of today!?" You yelled, and you two never fought, but her getting in between you and Eddie was not an option. Not ever.
"I saw the bite mark! I saw the flesh torn off! You asked me not to say anything to your friends, and now he is going to take you away from me!? How the hell do you not want me to worry!?" Eddie sank on the couch, realizing now how the situation looked. Realizing that your mom was as protective as he was with you.
"Because I told you not to! I told you not to stick your fucking nose in it because this is my life, and I am not stupid!" At that, your mother's eyes grew, her teeth showing at you as she spoke through them, her voice raising in volume, and you wanted to cry. You really wanted to cry.
"What makes you think he will stay and give you what you want!? Two relationships promised that, and you ended up broken! Don't be so naive!"
You felt the tears streaming down your face, your heart feeling like it was about to burst, and you shook your head, the sobbing starting to form in your throat, and you rushed towards the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind you.
Your mom stood in the living room, breathing heavy, and Eddie was looking up at her. She smelled muddy, like grass on a rainy day. And then he saw the tears falling, like yours just did.
She sniffled, sitting back down on the couch, and his eyes never left her profile. She rubbed her fingers over her lap, the nerves, the anxiety, the sadness radiating off from her.
"I… I just want to protect my daughter. Don't think ill of me…" He blinked a few times, but nodded a few times.
"I understand." He softly spoke, and she finally turned to look at him, her eyes red from the tears, from the burning.
"I'm aware, hyper aware, of everything surrounding her, of everything that happens to her with her partners… I don't want to miss a single detail…" Her lip wobbled, and Eddie felt his heart sink, "My daughter went through so much… So much trauma, so much pain… And as a mother, I felt that… I missed red flags, signs that I should have noticed to protect my child…"
Eddie sat there next to her, sensing every emotion as she looked like she was going to break. He frowned as he looked towards the bathroom, and then back at her.
"I would never hurt your daughter." He stated, and she sighed, nodding, but she kept looking his way, eyes sharp and determined.
"That bite… I'm sorry, I can't overlook that…"
"I know, but I promise, it was just a heat of the moment where I didn't… measure myself intimately." He winced at his own words, a little ashamed, a little bit guilty, but most of all nervous.
"You know what my daughter wishes for… And she was mutilated with a fake contract, and then she had a boyfriend who also broke her… I'm sorry for doubting you, but please understand that it will take me some time to trust someone else in my daughter's life…"
And he could feel his blood flowing all over, his determination shining through as he saw how honest and how much your mother loved you… Just the way he loves you. And so, your mother has to know that you are his forever, and for her to understand—
"I'm an Alpha."
Silence fell in the room, and yet Eddie didn't feel nervous, nor was he afraid. He didn't feel like this was a mistake to say that this was and is what your mother needed to hear for her to understand everything.
"What?" She was in shock at the revelation, and her eyes never left his, finding truth, finding honesty, yet hard to believe, "Is this a joke?"
"No. I am an Alpha. I'm not a Beta." His voice was steady, not an ounce of trembling or fear. He could scent the uneasiness, the confusion, the mixed feelings brewing inside her mind.
"Alphas and Omegas are extinct, that is impossible—"
"If you need proof, I can give it. I can explain everything. What I am, how I found out, and where I get myself checked."
And there was silence again, your mother stuttering as she processed this new information she just received. She cleared her throat, blinking tears away.
"And what proof can you give me right now?" He took a sharp intake of breath, unbuttoning his shirt a bit more, and moving to reveal his left shoulder. She frowned as she looked at the tattoo, inching closer. Under the ink, she saw punctures, almost invisible, just little dots all over his shoulder.
"My mating gland. I have to inject myself with suppressants to appear Beta, to not lash out at any given moment…" He slid the sleeve back up and buttoned up once more, "I'm sure you know, but I lashed out once when I met your daughter's ex."
"Henry…" He nodded, feeling his fingertips sweat with the memory.
"I couldn't control myself. I wasn't even dating your daughter properly, but seeing him— I just saw red. Pure red. And just now, I saw it again, when you tried to… make me leave." He looked away from her in shame, closing his eyes. She sat still, her mouth open, not knowing what to say or how to act.
"Why?" And he remained quiet for a moment before looking back at your mom.
"Because I need her… Ma'am, I've chosen your daughter as my mate. My long life mate."
She froze over, her hands coming to cover her mouth in shock as tears welled up in her eyes once again. If this is true, if what he was saying was real, then she wouldn't have to worry about anything. She wouldn't have to worry about him leaving you at all, or him hurting you.
"The bite… Her left shoulder…" Your mother knew about the history, as everyone once learned in school. But it all made sense now. He was ultra protective of you because he had marked you, even if you were a Beta. He nodded, frowning as he looked down.
"I was in my rut, and I became blind by it. My body reacted on its own… I would never intentionally hurt your daughter. Ever." She was still stuck on the couch, looking at him as if she were seeing a ghost. As if what Eddie was saying was out of a complete fairytale.
"Does she know?" She asked, and he nodded, making her look at the bathroom door for a second before coming back to him.
"She even went to the clinic with me. She knows about my medicine, my doctor… She knows what I am, and still accepted me." He was rubbing his hands together, waiting for your mom's words, now feeling the nerves of what he just done.
"Do people know? I'm… It's just, I don't think you would be here if people did— I'm sorry, I am still trying to wrap my head around this, I'm a little all over the place…" He knew how confused she was, how uncertain this all sounded.
"No. The only ones that know are my doctor, Steve, your daughter… and now you." She frowned, tilting her head in question.
"Why tell me this?" And he paused for a second, a soft smile breaking on his lips.
"Because I want you to know just how much I love your daughter. How much I want her. How much I would protect her, defend her, and keep her by my side no matter what. I needed you to understand that I want the same things she does. She is my mate, forever, and I can only mate once for life."
She pressed her lips together, feeling her throat closing up, nodding as new tears started building up. She reached over to grab Eddie's hand, squeezing it tightly. And he smelled it, finally. Reassurance, relief, sweet scents coming from her. She was… content.
The door unlocked, and she pulled her hand away, turning to see you walking out of the bathroom, red eyes from crying, sniffling as you stood in the living room again. Eddie took a deep breath in, turning his head to look at you.
"Mom, I think you—" But Eddie cut you off, standing up.
"I think you both need to talk." You frowned, looking up at him as if he just said something crazy. You were going to tell your mom that she should leave tomorrow, but Eddie's eyes were staring into yours, giving you a nod. "I'll go home for the night, okay?"
"I…" You were a little speechless, but he didn't let you finish, leaning forward, giving you a soft kiss on the lips that lingered for more than two seconds, and pulling away. Your breath hitched, your eyebrows still met in the middle.
"I love you. I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright, Peach?" You doubted for a second, but nodded slowly in understanding.
"I love you too… I'll see you tomorrow…" He gave you a soft smile, completely different from the demeanor from a few minutes ago, before you broke down. He turned to face your mom, gave her a little wave, and was surprised when she reciprocated. He gave you a soft squeeze on your hand before walking to the front door, closing it behind him once he left.
Your heart was beating in your chest, wildly so, because everything looked different. Everything seemed tranquil, and you didn't know if you liked that. Your eyes caught on your mom getting up from the couch, walking over to face you. She took a deep breath in, gulping, a tear rolling down her face.
"I accept him." You frowned, standing straighter, your guard lowering as you looked at her as if she had grown a second head.
"What…? Why did you change your mind? Did you talk to him?" You asked, hopeful, and she nodded, before her bottom lip wobbled, rushing over to hug you tightly. You were stunned into the ground, now wondering what happened between them. What did Eddie do?
"I am so happy you found him. I know he will take care of you…" You hugged back, confused, and then you pulled away to face her, but not from the embrace.
"Mom, I'm confused… What happened?"
"He told me…" Told her?
"What did he tell you?" And her eyes fell to your left shoulder.
And everything clicked. Your blood ran cold, panic setting in. Nobody should know, Eddie told you that, so why did he tell your mom? Why did he do that?
"He told me what I needed to know to understand his commitment to you… And I do believe he is, isn't he?" Her hand caressed your cheek, softly, and now you understood.
Eddie did it for you. He told your mom so she would be relieved you were going to be okay. Your eyes welled up with happy tears as you nodded quickly, not being able to hold back on your emotions. You couldn't believe he did this for you. That he told something so secret, so private, just for you.
"I— He is my mate…" You finally whispered, and she sighed with a smile on her face, her thumb rubbing your cheek slowly. "And I am his…"
"I am so happy for you… You found him." And you finally crumbled into her arms, crying into her shoulder from pure happiness, from contentment, from calmness. The storm that was above your head cleared up in an instant, and your mom would not have to worry about your future anymore. About what could happen. What couldn't.
"I did… I did, mom… He wants kids with me, he really wants a family with me, and he wants me for me…" She sniffled against you, her hand caressing your head.
"I'm so relieved, I am so overjoyed," After a minute of holding each other, you two finally pull away, wiping tears away from each other. You smiled widely, sniffling as you felt your heart become whole once more. And then, you knew you had to have that talk now. That you could tell her everything.
"Mom… I need to tell you something too…" Now she frowned as worry settled in again. "When I went to that clinic for the first time, the doctor did studies on me…"
"Studies? Are you alright? Why didn't you tell me before?" She asked a little panicked, and you guided her to sit on the couch again, facing her.
"Because what I found out has to do with Eddie's condition, sort of…" You took a sharp intake of breath, feeling your heart coming back up to your throat as you held her hand. You felt a wave of heat rushing to your face as embarrassment made its presence. "Eddie as an Alpha… Let's say he is not… normal, down there…"
Her eyes widened a little, her body recoiling a bit at the information, but then it sank in as information and history flooded her mind. She squinted slightly, but then she squeezed your hand to make sure you felt comfortable.
"So he is…?"
"Big… Bigger than average." You could see your mom getting nervous; this information was not normally shared between you, so she knew she had to pay attention.
"Alright? Isn't that good?" And with that, you nodded, but then shook your head.
"For me, yes… But the normal would be that I shouldn't be able to take him." Your mom blinked, a bit confused, frowning at your words.
"Okay? You can… do that—"
"Mom, I don't think you are grasping the situation. Betas cannot take an Alpha's…" You let the sentence die, raising your eyebrows at her so she could make out the rest on her own. Your mom straightened up, eyes widening as she realized what you meant.
"Oh… Oh? I— But you can?" You slowly nodded, and your mother's posture tensed, and you saw how her eyes started filling with realization, with confusion, and worry. "How…?"
"Eddie's doctor asked me if I had trouble with intimacy. When I basically said I didn't, he ran tests because it is impossible for Betas to take an Alpha, not entirely."
"That doctor ran tests? Blood?" She asked, and you nodded, wincing a bit as you continued.
"Ultrasounds too…"
"… And what did he find?"
You felt your eyes start burning, the memory paining you as much as it brought joy.
"That physically, I'm an Omega." Your mother froze in her spot, stuttering as she struggled to get words out.
"Ph— What does it mean physically? You are not, you are a Beta, I…" She was rambling as she pressed her free hand on her forehead, trying to focus. You gulped, nodding.
"I am a Beta. But… My canals, my uterus, they're Omega." Your mother was confused, perplexed even, not knowing how to make sense out of anything you were saying. You looked up at her to see her gazing at nothing in particular, just thinking. "Mom?"
"I'm sorry, baby, I'm just… trying to understand… How— When? I don't even know what to ask…"
"The fertility treatments…" At that, her head snapped to look at you. Your eyes were red once more from the anger, the sadness, the pain that came back every time you remembered it. "I shouldn't have done them one after the other… It should have been once per year…"
"What!? No— No, because the centers would have told you! They can't do that to you! That's not—" She stood up, her anger boiling up, the rage of a mother who saw her daughter at her worst, coming back to the surface.
"They didn't… They only cared about the money, mom." Her head snapped to look at you, and she looked murderous, a tear slipping down her cheek. She erratically shook her head, and she started pacing in your living room.
"I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill every single one of them! Starting with those two motherfuckers! How dare they do this to you!? To my child!?" You felt a sob in your throat, and you pressed your elbows on your knees, feeling the knot starting to appear, and the tears started to flow down. Your mom immediately rushed to sit next to you again, pressing her hand on your back, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"I got angry too… I'm still angry at that. I am— I am so mad, and so sad at the same time about it." You sighed, looking at your mom almost hopelessly. "It morphed me, but not entirely."
"What do you mean, not entirely?"
"I am physically an Omega, but I am not fertile. I don't have the qualities of an Omega except for the shape of my reproductive system." You sobbed into your throat as your mom tried to shush you softly, noticing you were beginning to have a breakdown once again.
"Sweetheart—"
"You don't understand! It's like I changed, but I didn't at the same time! If I had morphed into an Omega, completely, I wouldn't have to care for fertility treatments, and I would be able to mate Eddie properly, but I'm still this stupid fucking—" Finally, you broke down, your face burying into your mom's chest, sobbing as she held you close to her. She rocked back and forth as she tried to hold back tears, closing her eyes, feeling your pain through your cries, through the tremble of your shoulders.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here… I…" She couldn't even talk, and you shook your head into her chest.
"No, mom. No… I didn't tell you because…" You sniffled, pulling back as you tried to hold back on your crying, just so you would be able to speak. "Eddie's condition is secret, mine is too, and I am sorry, I couldn't say it, and now Eddie—"
"Shh, shh…" She pulled you back into her chest, as you kept crying, not realizing just how much you needed your mom. How much you had missed her. How much you needed to tell someone about this, especially your mom.
And so, you slept, cuddled up to her that night, like you once did as a child. She did little rubs on your back, causing goosebumps that made you relax, and after so long, after so many weeks, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders. It was so invisible that you didn't even feel it was there. Now, your heart is light, happy—
And you had Eddie to thank for it.
The next day, your eyes were puffy from crying, waking up later than your mom, and not realizing how much you slept. She wasn't in the bed, so you assumed she was in the kitchen. By the smell of food, you knew she was making you her special onion cream soup. It was your favorite as a child, and it still is, but only the one your mom makes.
You got up, stretching, popping your back and arms. You groaned at that, wincing a little at the sound of all the bones cracking. You slept like a log entirely. You were suddenly met with muffled voices, not just your mom's. You frowned, opening the door to your bedroom, walking out to find Eddie in front of the stove, his back towards you, and your mom was next to him, guiding him in something.
"Okay, now, sauteé the onions, slowly, in circular motions—"
"Ma'am, with all due respect, what is sauteé?"
"Edward, just stir the onions until they're golden brown so they caramelize."
Eddie's back perked up, nostrils flaring, and his head turned to see you standing there, frozen. He was back to wearing his own clothes. A black tank top with cut sleeves, and then some ripped pants. Your mom followed his gaze, about to greet you, but her face turned to Eddie once more, sternly.
"Keep stiring or they will burn!" He jumped in the spot, his arm now moving in circles erratically.
"YES MA'AM!" And he was moving quickly, making your mom panic as she tried to stop him from spilling the onions everywhere.
"Edward!"
You didn't even hear Eddie come into your house. That's how exhausted you were from the day before. You could see all the utensils on the counters, the spices, your mom with the apron on, and a small notepad on Eddie's side, and you realized your mom was teaching him her recipe. Her own secret recipe for your favorite soup.
"Peach, your mom is not letting me do this myself!"
"Because you are going to burn it all!"
And you almost cried as you took a sip of the almost burnt onion soup that Eddie made. Not because of disgust or the bitterness.
You were just…
Happy.
As your mom held your hand, and Eddie fought to try to pull you away from her, claiming she had you all day the day before, you figured that maybe things happened for a reason. Every wrong that was done to you led you to this moment, right here, in your living room.
Maybe things staying this way wasn't so bad after all.
end of chapter 31
a/n: im sorry if this was anticlimatic, but im building it up
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️18+: smut, so much smut. Omegaverse talking, breeding kink, roughness, oral, unprotected, feral, blood mention, fluff, and angst
wc: 16.2k
A/N: i hope this was worth the wait. i didn't proofread this as much as i would have liked to, but it will have to do.
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 30
Fire.
Fire all over his body.
Lava moving through his veins, his arteries from head to toe.
His eyes opened, his vision blurry as he tried to focus on the ceiling, then on the curtains where light was shining through. He choked on a breath, realizing the ache in his body and the headache. The absolute throbbing headache he was experiencing. He was sweating, and his throat felt completely dry.
He forced himself on getting up, his only goal to wash his face with cold water. He winced as he tumbled out, feeling slightly dizzy at how quickly he was moving from just waking up. He felt his heart beating in his chest, rumbling, growling, and there was this itch all over him. He reached the bathroom, instantly turned on the sink, dipped his face in the water, rubbed the sweat off, and chugged mouthfuls of it to try to alleviate some of the burning.
He straightened up, breathing heavily, and then he finally dared to look at himself.
His pupils dilated. His veins were visible on his neck, arms, and chest.
He was in rut.
But it had never been like this. It had never been this intense. He felt it coming, but it hit him way too hard. He wiped his face off, the water having calmed down the flames just a tiny bit. Taking pain medication for his headache would be useless, so he dismissed the pill box in the cabinet. Eddie put his hair up in a ponytail, wanting to keep the hair out of his face because he felt suffocated with it.
He took deep breaths to calm himself down, having the chance to relieve himself. He winced when he saw he was already hard, and his shaft was redder than usual. He had to hold his groans back because he was too sensitive. Fuck. He pulled his sweatpants back up, washed his hands, and walked back out, ready to lie down again to maybe sleep it off a while longer.
But then, as he entered the room, he froze.
There you were, sleeping soundly, face down into the pillow as you hugged it. The bed sheet left your upper back uncovered, naked, your skin out there for his eyes to roam on. He felt as if his stomach had been punched, cramping, and then his nostrils flared, your scent getting into his lungs.
His eyes went black, as if a shark had smelled blood from miles and miles away in the vast ocean. Sweet. Tangy. Ready. Beautiful. Addicting. Spicy. So delicious. He didn't want to wake you. He didn't want to. You were sleeping so soundly, but he—
Take.
That voice inside his head again. He knew it was himself, but it had never happened before. He didn't want to comply; he didn't want to disturb you. But he couldn't stop his legs from moving. His gaze never left your body, his chest moving up and down as his breathing quickened each second. He growled as he slowly pulled the sheets away from you, the flimsy material revealing the rest of your body.
You groaned in your sleep, moving just slightly at the change of temperature, but he just kept looking at you. You were only wearing a pair of panties, and his eyes traveled all over your lower back, then your ass, then your legs, until you were completely unveiled for him.
He felt his teeth ache, his head throb, his heart pumping more than it should. He never once felt like this in his rut. It was because you were his girlfriend, because you were his. It was different than the other times when he got hit and had to call the first girl he saw on his phone. You were here. And you were his and his only to have.
Mine.
He moved, and you didn't even stir in your sleep as he slowly got on top of you, his knees on each side of your hips, his hands coming to support his weight over you, next to your elbows. He leaned down, his mind a haze, his lips kissing your back softly.
"Please wake up…" He whispered, praying you would because, for some reason, he felt like he was losing control of his own body. His hips were lowering towards yours, his covered groin suddenly pressing against your ass. He hissed into your skin, begging once more, "Peach, please—"
You moved, a small whimper in your lips as you tightened your arms around the pillow. He whined, his chest rumbling as his lips found purchase on your left shoulder. He was hard, painfully so, and his hands were burning, his fingertips itching as if ants were crawling all over them. Pleas for you to wake up escaped him, wanting you to wake up before he did something he would lament later on.
And thankfully, you did.
"Mmm?" Your eyes fluttered open, dazed by sleep still. "Eddie?"
"Please wake up…" He muttered again, wanting you to become conscious of the situation, but his hips betrayed him once more as he rutted them against your ass. His elbows now came to support his weight over you, wanting to be closer, needing it.
"Baby?" You tried again, your dreamland finally dissipating away as he thrusted into you again. You let out a small gasp, surprised, shaking you awake just a little more. Your mind registered your surroundings, the light in the room, realizing it was morning or the afternoon. Then, his scent. It was pungent. It was— It was strong. So strong. To the point it made your nose flare, sting a little, but in a good way.
"Please…"
"Eddie, is it here?" You asked, voice small, still coming out of your sleepiness. You could feel how hard he was, how intense he felt, how hot he was on top of you, as if a heater were placed above your body. He nodded against your shoulder, and his hips finally started moving against you, without restraint, now knowing you were awake, understanding the situation.
"Yes… Yes, it is, I'm sorry… I'm—" He growled as a particular drag felt too good, way too good. He inhaled your scent into his lungs, and your hands moved. You turned your head, grabbing the pillow on each side, your hips moving upwards to meet his.
"It's okay, it's okay… I'm here… Does it hurt?" You were so nice to ask him that. In such a state, you still managed to make him the first priority of it all.
"Yes… My head— Belly…" He was confused about why he couldn't formulate his words properly. Why was it so hard to stay himself now? Why couldn't he communicate as he had always done? This was confusing. This was out of his hands for some reason, and all he could think about was your body underneath his.
You groaned into the pillow, the sleepiness slowly drifting away, but your eyes were still heavy. You felt the drag of his cock, over and over again, and you noted how hard it was. Did that pain him? His lips kissed your shoulders, your back, marking you with soft bites, with gentle hickeys.
He growled as pain struck his brain, his body jerking into you, rather harshly, as it begged for satisfaction, for release. His hormones were all over the place, his pheromones filling the fullness of his room. You gasped at the motion, the bed shaking at the rough movement. You could already feel your belly burning, your cunt clenching over nothing.
How did he get you worked up by doing nothing at all? You were already wet; you could feel it. You still felt a little hazy from sleepiness, or maybe it was something else? It felt like you were lightheaded, tipsy, your head swirling slightly. You licked your lips, trying to hydrate your throat with your saliva to be able to talk.
"Baby, what do you need?"
"You. You." He didn't formulate further, his right hand moving underneath your body, making you jerk your hips upwards a bit for him to have access. His fingers immediately slipped underneath the waistband of your panties, rubbing against your soaked folds. You let out a breath, shuddering underneath his weight.
He groaned at the sensation, feeling your juices, your warmth, and the anticipation of what he was going to get was killing him. Another jolt of pain struck his stomach, making his middle finger instantly dive into you. You scrunched your eyebrows together as you gasped out a long moan. Your hips moved into his finger, and he growled over you at your action.
"Eds—"
"Don't move. Just—" He didn't even know how to formulate his wording. He didn't want to sound like a jerk, but he didn't want you to move, to do anything at all. He needed to take. Just take.
He moaned into your back as he pulled his finger out of you, rubbing your clit in circles, making you moan into the pillow. You felt cock drunk, and all you had received until now were kisses and a finger inside of you. How could you be this far gone already?
You squealed in pleasure when he pressed onto your clit, his fingers moving side to side in short but fast movements. Your mouth was open in an 'o' shape, silent moans getting caught in your throat, and your body trembling underneath him as he made you feel like you were melting into the bed.
"Eddie— Eddie, oh god—" Your voice was not helping with the sharp pains in his groin, making his hips rub into your leg, like a dog in heat. He instantly and out of nowhere sank his middle and ring fingers inside of you. You whimpered into the pillow, drool dripping from the corner of your lip as you felt him pump into you, feeling your insides, his cock twitching with need as he kept rubbing, and rubbing, precum staining his boxers and pants.
You were gasping, feeling his breath on your ear, moaning your name, mumbling it out. His fingers went as deep as they could with the position he was in, and he could feel your juices running down to his palm. He couldn't help himself, taking his hand away to put it in front of his face, licking his palm to the tip of his fingers, tasting you.
He growled with delight, your sweetness invading his every sense, his every pore. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was losing his mind. You whimpered underneath him, and he couldn't hold back anymore as another jab of pain struck behind his eyes. He sat back on his legs and grabbed the side of your panties, ripping them apart so he could free you from them. There was no time to take them fully off, and he needed to be in between your legs.
You lifted your head in surprise at the tearing, turning to finally look over your shoulder. Eddie was there, kneeling up as he gazed down at you. Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat or two as you stared at your boyfriend. His eyes were dilated, his breathing was heavy, and his veins were popping out. Everywhere. His arms, neck, chest, and then you could see the redness on his wrists, where his scent glands were, and then… his left shoulder.
Even underneath the tattoo, you could see the bright red and purple hue. His mating gland.
"Open your legs." His voice was hoarse, wild, ragged. You knew you had to comply. You couldn't defy an Alpha, not on his rut. You sighed as you opened your legs and he positioned himself between them. "Lift. Little."
You knew what he meant without even formulating all the words. You raised your hips just slightly, but it was enough for Eddie to put his pillow underneath. You could feel yourself clench around nothing at the position, hands grabbing at the pillow below your head.
Eddie's chest rose up as he stared at your center, and his nose flared again. The scent of your slick, making him a little dizzy, a little floaty. He closed his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. This was still you. You were his girlfriend, and he had to take care of you too. And he was always careful. Always. But there was something different in this rut of his.
You could take him.
He groaned as pain struck in his groin, and that made him pull his pants and boxers down to his mid-thighs, just enough to free himself. Your head turned over your shoulder as best as you could to finally see him. You almost gasped, eyes wide as you saw how red it was, and for some reason, it looked bigger. The veins were prominent now, but the base was almost purplish. Most likely hurting him.
"Eddie—" You wanted to ask, you wanted to make sure he was okay, that he wasn't going to be in any pain, but he didn't let you finish. Your mouth ended up opening, eyes rolling back as he rubbed the head of his cock against your entrance, lubricating himself, before he started to slowly push in. Normally, Eddie would take his time, but he couldn't help himself when he suddenly jerked, bottoming out in one single thrust, making you whimper loudly.
"Fuck, oh, fuck—" He choked on his own breath, his hands gripping the mattress tightly, holding himself up over your body. He could feel you flutter, adjusting to him, and god, you were so warm. So delicious. His belly stopped aching for a single moment before he felt another cramp. He winced, but held himself from moving until you were ready. It was enough that he just bottomed inside of you in just one second; he didn't want to cause you any more pain.
It honestly burnt, stung, but it wasn't painful. You could feel how hot he felt inside of you. His body temperature was definitely skyrocketing, and you wanted his pain to be gone. Was it bad of you to also enjoy this? To also feel extremely happy and satiated by helping him with this situation of his? A situation no one could help him with but you.
"Please, Peach— I need to move… I—" He could feel his eyes burning, clenching them tightly from how overwhelmed he was feeling. You gave a nod against the pillow, and that was enough for him. His hips moved back and then slammed instantly against yours. You whimpered his name, the headboard hitting the wall at the jerking motion.
He growled loudly in satisfaction with the drag, and then he did it again. And again. And again. In just a few seconds, Eddie was fucking into you like a madman. You were a moaning mess, drool escaping your mouth because you couldn't close it. The pillow providing him easy access to your g-spot.
"It feels— so good—" You weren't lying. It felt almost feral. Eddie and you did rough, but this felt different. You couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but something didn't feel like all those other intimate times together. He was desperate, his lips finding your back, biting it, sucking on your skin to mark you all over as the slapping on skin echoed against the walls of his room.
He felt his cock pulsating, his entire area just burning like lava. He realized then that he wasn't as coherent as the other times. He saw you underneath him, moving up and down to his thrusts, moaning loudly, making a mess out of you, because you were his. You were only permitted to be like this with him.
Take.
His chest rumbled loudly, his upper body falling on top of your back, and his thrusts became more erratic, faster, deeper. You couldn't even mutter anything at this point. Your eyes were rolled back, your face a mess of tears and drool from the extreme pleasure. Your belly burning, your walls clenching as he kept the brutal pace.
"Mine. Mine…" He mumbled into your ear, moaning your name. You nodded dumbly, and he shook his head against you, biting your ear as he growled. A pained wince escaped you, and he pulled away. "Say it."
"You— Yours, god, Eddie, I'm yours—" You could barely articulate, your mind a puddle, and you could feel your juices escaping you at each of his thrusts. His arms came to cradle your head as he kept pounding over and over. He was happy with your response, groaning, feeling you throb and clench around his cock.
"Cum. Cum around me. I need it." He couldn't wait. He couldn't wait for you to milk him. For him to—
"Ed— G-GOD—" You screamed as you felt yourself crumbling apart underneath him, your g-spot completely abused by his thrusts, by the tip of his dick rubbing at it, punching it, stimulating it. You clenched tightly around him, your legs tightening as you squirmed underneath his body. He held you in place as he moaned, his thrusts not stopping even if you were so tight for him to continue.
But it was the thing that made him finally tip over the edge. Feeling you clench him around his base, where his knot would have popped if it weren't for the suppressants, made him see stars. He slammed once, twice, and then he growled loudly, clenching his teeth tightly as he came inside of you.
It felt never-ending. Your orgasm, his, all combining. You took it all, each spurt, and it was so much. More than ever before. You know it wasn't enough to make your belly expand, but you never felt him inside you like this. It took you both two full minutes to unclench, to let each other relax, finally.
Heavy breaths filled the room, and you were in a complete haze while Eddie gained his consciousness back. Rationality. The pain was gone, and he sighed in relief at that. He was trembling, holding himself up again by his hands, getting off your back. He saw all the marks he had made on your skin, and instead of feeling bad with himself, he felt proud. He felt so good that you had him all over your skin.
"Peach… Baby, are you okay?"
He was talking to you; you knew that much, but your eyes were closed, still trying to come back to your senses. He waited, worry settling in, but he couldn't smell any sourness on you, nor bitterness. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, making your eyes finally open.
"Yeah… That was…" You couldn't even find the words to describe it. Wild? Different? Feral? All of those? He nodded in agreement, gulping.
"It was for me too… I am assuming it has to do with…" He didn't have to say it. It's because you could do what nobody else could do before; take him entirely. He kissed your cheek again, trying to bring you back to planet earth. You gulped a bit to see if that would soothe your dry throat.
"Do you feel better?" You asked, and he couldn't help the smile coming to his lips. He just wrecked you, and you only thought about him. He nodded, kissing your left shoulder.
"Yes… Want to get up to get breakfast?" You nodded desperately, wanting to drink water more than anything. He looked down to where the two of you were connected, and he slowly pulled himself out. He winced as you whimpered. He sat back, breathing heavy still, and his eyes fell on your cunt. He felt his chest puff up, dick twitching again when he saw his cum slipping out of you. It wasn't out of how hot it looked, no…
He felt angry that his seed was dripping out of you. It should stay inside—
He snapped from his thoughts as you wobbled when you lifted yourself up, quickly so you would not stain the pillow or the sheets. You held onto his shoulder to stand up from the bed, knees trembling. You laughed a bit as you looked at him. You looked wrecked, and he was loving it. He got up with you, pulling his pants and boxers up, then helping you walk towards the bathroom.
"I feel like a fawn that was just born." You commented, sitting down on the toilet as you let everything fall out. You winced as Eddie turned on the water to wash his face. He looked into the mirror, and he noticed his pupils had shrunken back to their size. He sighed in relief, looking back at you. You were frowning, taking your shredded panties off your leg, glaring up at him.
"Oops." He wasn't the least ashamed of it, nor remorseful. You could still feel him coming out from you, making you lean over and rest your elbows on your knees to create pressure. How much had he cum inside?
"Do… Do you feel better?" You asked, and he bent down to your eye level, gazing at you. He nodded, and you saw it in his eyes. He was back to himself. His hand brushed against your cheek, and it felt warm, but not scorching hot like minutes ago.
"I do. I can't promise I won't get another… episode during the day, but as far as pain goes, there's none… Thank you." You smiled at how soft he sounded, how his eyes were shining with kindness, with gratefulness.
"I enjoyed myself too." He smirked, tilting his head to the side.
"Oh, you did?" You looked away, pretending to be coy, shrugging.
"Maybe. Now, get out so I can wash up, and get me a shirt, and boxers, since my panties are useless now."
"No." You blinked back at his response. He was serious, gulping as he shook his head. "I— I can give you the shirt, but I don't feel… I—"
"You?" He was blushing, but because of how embarrassing and desperate he would sound. He didn't even understand it himself. No matter how much he tried to make sense of it, it just didn't.
"I want to be able to smell you. I just need it…"
You felt your entire body flush at his words, something you never thought you would hear in your life. He wanted you to be bare around the house so he could smell… your wetness. He looked puzzled himself by the need, so you decided not to press it. You said you would help him today, and so, you will.
"Okay… Okay, baby… Just get me a shirt…" You leaned to peck him on the lips to reassure him you were alright with it. That you weren't freaked out or scared, or anything like that. He sighed, nodding, and getting up from the floor, getting out of the bathroom.
Holy shit. You slowly started to process what had just happened. It happened too fast, and it was so intense. He sounded like an animal, and you didn't dislike it. If anything, you really liked it. You were embarrassed for liking it so much, but you couldn't help it. He just felt so good.
You cleaned yourself as best as you could with water from the sink, and then you brushed your teeth and washed your hands. You fixed yourself as best as you could, but then, as you turned to brush your hair, your eyebrows met in the middle. Marks that looked like bruises, all over your back, the back of your neck, your shoulders. Your mouth fell open, realizing how much he had marked you.
And you rejoiced in it.
You walked out, going into the bedroom again, seeing Eddie had changed into another pair of sweatpants, staying shirtless as he still ran a little hot. He whistled as you sauntered over to him, grabbing the shirt from his hands and throwing it over yourself. It barely covered your ass, but it would have to do. His arms wrapped around you, head leaning down to kiss you, fervently.
You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your heart beat wildly in your chest as you melted in his arms. You didn't know it, but Eddie was on cloud nine with you. He kissed you, deep, yet passionately. He wanted to show you how grateful he was to you, how happy you made him by just being by his side. Now this? He didn't know how to reciprocate.
You pulled away with a smack of lips, smiling up at him.
"As much as I want to keep kissing you, we need to drink and eat something." He pouted, giving you another kiss before pulling away. His nose flared, noting your scent, proud you followed instructions. You walked out and down the stairs, followed by him. He was close, sticking next to you like a band-aid. Even as you two cooked some breakfast to start the day, he kept his hands on you whenever he could. On your hip, your waist, his lips on your cheek, on your arm. Your heart soared as the man you loved bathed you in affection and care.
You were sitting next to him, eating your breakfast on the island counter. He turned on the TV to put something in the background, soft music entering your ears as you saw Eddie stealing a blueberry from your plate.
"Hey! There's more in the fridge!" You shouted, and he shook his head.
"Stolen ones taste better." You pinched his arm, making him wince, and rubbed it while flinching away from you. You inspected his eyes, his face, and he noticed, "What?"
"Did it hurt? Like… your body, what did you feel?" You asked, curiosity invading you.
"Burning. Then my head swirled, and I felt…" 'Unlike myself.' He couldn't tell you that. He didn't want to scare you. "I just felt rushes of adrenaline. Don't know how to explain it…"
You nodded, taking a sip of your juice as you remembered what happened just an hour ago. He looked at you the moment he noticed your scent spiking up just slightly, aware that you were thinking about something.
"I felt weird too… Well, not weird. Just… too aroused? I woke up, and I was already wet." You flushed all over, a little shy to be talking about your arousal. He had a pink tint on his cheeks, and suddenly, there was a pang of pain striking his head for a second, making his eye twitch. As soon as it had come, it went away.
"That might be my pheromones… The, uh… women I've been with before also got… more aroused than usual." Your jaw clenched, looking down at your plate, poking at the blueberries with anger, with jealousy. You heard him chuckle, his hand coming to grip your thigh. "Hey, I'm yours, remember, Peach?"
You looked at him and saw nothing but the truth in his eyes. Suddenly, those words were on the tip of your tongue. You felt the need to tell him, to confess how much you love him, how he makes you feel every day. How your heart feels more alive each time he holds you, kisses you, cares for you.
You want him to know just how much he meant to you. Your stomach was turning with nerves, and your throat closed up as the first word tried to come up. Was it the right time? When he was in his rut? Probably it wasn't. But you couldn't help yourself. You wanted him to know because you knew no other woman could feel as deeply as you do for him right now.
But something stopped you. You were afraid he would smell your fear, how scared you were of rejection. Having been hurt too many times made you a little vulnerable to love. A little too cautious. You loved Eddie more than you loved Henry, and that… that terrified you.
"Yeah, I know… So, you can make me horny with your pheromones, huh." You broke the tension, and he chuckled, shaking his head.
"Only when in my rut." You nodded, noticing that the burning inside of you didn't quite vanish yet. His pheromones might still be in the air. You finished your plate and grabbed both of them before walking towards the sink, rounding the counter.
Eddie watched you wash them, his eyes stuck to the back of your head. He didn't notice just how hard he was staring, how much he was inspecting you. He didn't notice that his pupils had started to dilate once more, seeing you being all domestic on him. Cooked for him, cleaned for him, satisfied him… The perfect girl… The perfect partner…
Take.
He groaned inwardly, shaking his head, and he looked down, his eyes widening when he saw how a tent was appearing on his sweatpants. Oh, fuck… He started feeling it again. The heat. The burning. He gripped the edge of the counter, trying to look away from you.
But then, you caught something on the TV. A song you haven't heard in a while. The one you and Eddie made out to for the first time ever. 'Pray for me' by The Weeknd. You remembered that night, not crystal clear, but you remembered how horny you were for him. How badly you wanted him. How desperately you two kissed one another. Just the thought of it made you wet and nostalgic.
You started moving your hips to the song without noticing, taking off the gloves to clean the counter next to the sink. You were passing a wet tablecloth over it, humming to the song. But unbeknownst to you, you had an agitated Alpha behind you.
He had rounded the counter, his pupils now black as he smelled you, noting the sweetness of your juices slipping out of you. His groin area was in pain, blazing with fire. But he remembered how good you tasted on his fingers, and all he could focus on was that. Your taste. Your slick. The ambrosia that you were.
His breathing was erratic as he stood next to you, a throb in his head making him wince. You turned your head to look at him, alarmed to see him like this again. It didn't fully go away. You could see it, feel it as you touched his arm. You suddenly felt your slick slipping at your inner thigh, making you frown and look down with surprise. Were you this turned on just seconds ago?
He got on his knees facing front, his back against the counter. You looked at him, puzzled, his eyes now glaring up at you, demanding.
"Move." His hands gripped your right thigh, yanking you to move. You squealed as you were made to open your legs, Eddie's face right against your cunt. You were already breathing heavily at the position, your hands holding your weight on the counter.
"Eddie, what—" You gasped, moaning his name as his hands immediately gripped your ass and his mouth latched onto your clit. He was pushing you into his mouth, into his tongue, desperately slurping around you. He moaned into you, his tongue running in between your folds, tasting your wetness completely, and fuck, it was like absinthe. He could get drunk from it with just three licks.
His digits dug into the skin of your ass, trying to push you further into him, even if there wasn't any where else to go. You were gripping the countertop, moaning as you frowned with pleasure, your legs trembling as he kept eating you away. Consuming every inch of you.
He was slurping, drooling, his digits digging into your skin, pulling you into him as if you weren't close enough. You were tiptoeing almost, your legs shaking as your hands were splayed on the counter, trying to grip on something, anything, but all you managed to do was stare at the wall, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at each lick.
He couldn't stop himself, drinking you, his throat bobbing from each gulp he took. It only fueled the fire pit in his stomach and the pride of having you on his tongue. The pride that you were his and his only to touch, to eat away like this. No one could have the taste of you in their tongue; this essence of yours belonged to him. Anyone who dared to lay a finger on you, or speak to you in a manner that might sound like they want to steal you away—
He would murder.
Mine.
His chest rumbled fervently, his knees digging into the floor as he raised himself slightly from the ground, needing to be closer, not realizing he was making your feet start to dangle from the floor. You gasped, calling out his name as you felt his tongue moving inside of you, his nose against your clit. You didn't even know if he was breathing properly, but your head was swirling.
He wasn't talking, unlike all of those other times. He would comment on things, do dirty talking to you as he ate you out. This time, it felt like his sole purpose was to make you crumble. To break you. To take everything he needed. And you loved it. You loved it so much.
"O—Oh god—" Your voice trembled as your belly started to cramp, your upper body almost entirely over the counter as he held you up, his hands splaying even more, so your thighs would be supported by his biceps. Your legs cramped, your body twitching as he didn't stop his tongue, his mouth.
He started sucking on your clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, and you could hear him panting, his hot breath hitting your entire cunt as he kept going. You felt a tear slipping out of your eye, your throat becoming dry from your moaning, and you felt yourself clench, flutter, the climax starting to slowly hit.
He could feel it, and he desperately got his tongue inside of you again, moving around as he pressed his nose against your clit. He needed you. He needed it. He needed to taste you entirely. He slurped as drool came down his chin and then down his throat, saliva mixed with your juices. He was starving.
"Eddie— Eddie, shit, wait—" You became speechless as your orgasm hit you like a train. It was intense, and you saw stars against the wall before you, a cry of pleasure against the counter as your legs thrashed slightly against his grip, but he held you steady, firm. He growled into you, and you didn't realize how much you were gushing against his tongue. He took every drop, licking inside of you, outside, then back inside.
You didn't know if you had a body any longer. You felt drunk, spent, energy completely drained out of you. He, on the other hand, was in complete ecstasy. He felt his body sweating, his cock twitching desperately in his sweatpants. He licked your clit, and you flinched from overstimulation.
You came back to yourself, just a bit, when you felt the tip of your toes coming back down to the floor. You were breathing heavily, upper body splayed on top of the counter, hands against it, cheek as well, trying to get cooler. Your body was on fire, and your legs were slowly giving up on you. You could feel yourself shaking, not really coming back to your body just yet.
Eddie moved from under you, right between your legs, and stood up. He saw how your lower body started to slump, wanting to fall on the floor, but he wasn't going to let you. He couldn't even bother to feel selfish thanks to how much he needed you. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you upright, making you squeal.
He untucked himself out of his sweatpants and boxers, smearing his precum all over his pulsating shaft, his other hand still on your hip. You were mumbling under your breath, gulping to wet your throat, even if a little bit. Your eyes were closed as you tried to gather yourself, only for that to be interrupted. Your eyes snapping open, wide, feeling him start to thrust inside of you.
Both his hands gripped you, and his eyes were fixated on your ass, on the marks he gave you with his fingers. Marks that made you his. He saw himself disappearing inside of you, a low groan escaping his lips. You turned your head to finally see him, and you couldn't believe your eyes.
You fluttered around him as you saw your juices, his drool, all over his chin, his scruff, his throat, falling to his chest. His pupils were blown out, his hair a mess, and he just looked gone. He was gone for you. He looked down at you as if you were—
"Mine. You're mine." You heard the growl behind it, the affirmation, the plea. You were about to answer, only for him to start a pace, first slow, only to then gain speed at each second that passed.
You went from almost falling to the floor to being rammed into by your boyfriend against the kitchen counter. You didn't know how you were doing it, but you were still conscious. Now you understood what Eddie meant when Murray told him it might be more intense than his other ruts. He wasn't doing it with just anybody. He was doing it with a partner, and one who could take him at that.
So he obviously became feral.
He didn't recognize himself. It was as if he knew what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself. You didn't stop him, and in fact, you were enjoying yourself as much as he was. He was pretty sure, though, that if you had asked to stop, he would have. You were a priority to him, and the last thing he could imagine himself doing was to hurt you.
He didn't want to lose you; he wouldn't be able to bear it. Not you. Not anymore. He realized he wasn't too far from cumming. Taking you into his mouth seemed to rile him up more than any of the other times he ate you out. His hands glided towards your front, under his shirt, pulling you upwards against his chest as he kept his brutal pace. His left hand was grabbing at your left breast while the other held your chin.
"Eddie— It feels so good— I'm—" You were babbling, drool coming out from your mouth, your hands grabbing at his arms, trying to keep yourself upright. He looked at your side profile, his breath coming out in low huffs through his nostrils. He felt himself twitch inside of you, and he turned your face towards him.
"Peach—" He moaned your name, his lips finding yours as he didn't stop his thrusting. Your hips moved against his, keeping the pace, helping him reach his peak. You moaned into his mouth, trying to kiss him back as best as you could, your neck cramping a bit at the position, your hips already hurting from the ordeal. You could taste yourself on his tongue still, making your head spin.
The grip on your chin became stronger, and he groaned into you as he gave a few sharp thrusts, making you bounce against him before he spilled inside of you. He pulled away from the kiss, moaning out a breath as he spasmed against you, his forehead falling to your right shoulder. You felt him fill you, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
You two were left panting in the kitchen, the music slowly coming back to your ears. Your throat was dry, you had tears on your cheeks, drool, and he was a mess as well. He was huffing, his lungs desperately needing oxygen. He felt his knees buckling, but he held himself up so as not let you fall. He couldn't care two shits about himself.
"Baby, are you okay?" His voice was low, raspy, dry from the session you two just had. You gave him a tired nod, still holding onto him in order not to fall down to the floor. You wanted a bath. A shower. Anything. And a glass of water. He held the two of you up as you both regained a bit of strength, a bit of air.
He gulped as he thought of pulling out. He didn't want to. He didn't want it to go to waste. Why was he thinking this way? Why was he so out of control? It didn't make sense, and he didn't want to make you do anything you didn't want to.
"Eddie?" He didn't notice you were calling out to him, too immersed in his thoughts.
"What?"
"Are you okay?" You asked, and he kissed your cheek, nodding.
"I am… What about you, Peach? Was it too much? You know you can tell me to stop… don't you?" You gave a tired chuckle, shaking your head.
"No way… It was good…" He was surprised to hear you say that. He thought he was too rough on you, too selfish.
"It was?"
"Yes… It was…" And those words were back on the tip of your tongue, but a little sway of your hips made you almost fall to the ground, Eddie coming down with you. "Okay, but we do need to shower…"
He couldn't agree more with you on that. He nodded, bracing himself to pull out from you. He groaned when he did, holding you still as you let out a breath. You should feel empty, but you didn't. Suddenly, your eyes widened when you felt his fingers sneaking back inside, making you gasp, bracing yourself against the counter.
"What—"
"To not make a mess…" Liar. He was such a fucking liar. He was plugging you up, not wanting to see a single drop falling from you. His Alpha instincts were screaming at him to not waste anything, and yet, he knew that you wouldn't— That it wouldn't—
"Interesting way…" You choked out. He nodded behind your head, lifting you up with his other arm around you waist, making you squeal. You felt a little manhandled, but it didn't feel wrong. It didn't feel bad. He was taking care of you, not wanting a mess to go down your legs. He guided the two of you to the bathroom downstairs, and he almost whimpered when he took his fingers out of you.
You instantly plopped down on the toilet, sighing from exhaustion. He turned away, his eyes clenching tightly, his hands becoming fists on his sides. He could hear his seed dripping down into the water, and that was enraging him. He took a deep breath in, turning to look at you once again. Your eyes were gazing up at him, glossed over, as if your mind was in a far away land.
"I'll run a bath for you, okay?" He leaned down and gave you a soft peck on the lips, and you could only nod at that. He washed his hands, a rumble in his chest as he saw his seed and your juices being washed away by the water. He cracked his neck once, trying to calm down. "I'll wait for you upstairs, okay, baby? And if you can't move, just yell for me."
"I can still walk, Eddie… Are you okay?" You finally asked, seeing his eyes still blown out, and he nodded, but it didn't leave you completely convinced. You saw him walk out of the bathroom, and you sighed, feeling your legs, pressing your fingers on your skin. They didn't hurt, but your joints kind of did.
It was a good kind of sore, knowing where the soreness came from, but still, you were dreading the next day. You wondered if it was done already, if he just needed time to calm down. You clenched around nothing as you suddenly remembered the pleasure, and it made you flush all over, because was it bad that you really enjoyed it? The roughness, the need to take you, the need to fill you up? The power of satisfying this hunger of his?
Did it make you a bad person? A bad, possessive girlfriend? A selfish one? There should be no harm in liking this, shouldn't there? You were probably overthinking it, but you couldn't help it. You washed yourself, wincing a bit as you passed the toilet paper. The soreness down there was showing its presence little by little. You fixed yourself and washed your hands, wobbling a bit as you got out of the bathroom.
You winced a bit as you saw the stairs, but you braced yourself to walk them, feeling your legs giving up a bit at each step. They trembled slightly, and your ankles felt like they were going to give up at any second on you, but you managed to reach the top.
You heard the water running, and you walked into the master bathroom, seeing Eddie testing the water in the tub. You saw some steam, and you smiled as you realized he remembered just how you liked your bath. He looked up at you, and you were relieved to see his pupils going back to their original size, a smile on his lips.
"Look at you, walking like a champ." You rolled your eyes, walking over to him, as he sat on the edge of the tub, already cleaned up.
"Need I remind you that there was one day we fucked like four times?" You spoke, and he shivered, pretending to ponder deeply.
"Ah, yes. How could I forget? We had to stay in bed for a whole day afterwards."
"And yet, we still had sex." He chuckled, shaking his head. You hadn't realized just how bad you two were for one another. How incredible your chemistry was, how compatible the two of you are. So much so that you couldn't keep your hands away from each other once the exclusivity started.
"Okay, sweetheart, your bath awaits." You frowned, looking at him.
"You're not coming in with me?"
"If I go in this state into that scorching water, I would probably have a heat stroke." You were still frowning, now worried and confused as you stripped yourself of the only piece of clothing you had.
"Baby, you're still feeling it? It's not done?" He grabbed your hand, guiding you towards the edge of the tub, urging you to get in. You moaned in delight as the temperature was just right, soothing all of your muscles, taking your soreness away as you slowly started sinking in.
"I have the remnants. But I do think it is done. I'm still running a bit hot, but I will be fine once we go to sleep. I'll shower after you, with cold, ice, chilling water." He smiled down at you as you relaxed your back against the tub, your head dropping back, and you closed your eyes.
"This feels good…" You softly spoke, and his eyes were still on you as he studied you. He licked his lips, nerves still in every inch of his body.
"Thank you, Peach… For helping me through it…" Your eyes opened to find his. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest, his brown eyes staring right into yours. Your lips quivered, looking for the right words, trying not to let the ringing in your ears distract you from talking back.
"I— I would always help you… You should know that…"
There was silence after that. There was a tension, a good tension, that the two of you were aware of. That you two could feel, sense, smell, see, taste. It only required one person to take that step. That new, little scary step. Not new for you, but scary. New for Eddie, and fucking terrifying.
And though obvious, it should be said out loud. It should be brought up so that you two could go into the next level. Fall deeper together, holding hands, and finally let that pressure go. Words that would cement where your relationship would go. Where it was headed.
And you wanted to say it. You wanted to say those words. You needed to say those words.
But you saw Eddie erratically getting up. His hands were going towards his head, as if he had a terrible migraine. A groan escaped him as he clenched his eyes tightly. Your eyes widened, sitting up, the water splashing around you as you saw him breathing heavy, growling, holding himself up against the wall.
"Eddie!?"
"Fuck— Fuck, fuck—" You saw him stumbling out, and you didn't doubt for a second as you stood up, trying not to fall into the tub and injure yourself. Something was wrong. The air felt really heavy, and it wasn't because of the steam. It felt suffocating. You wrapped a towel around your body as fast as you could, running out after your boyfriend into his room.
"Eddie— Baby, talk to me!" You insisted, seeing him pacing around, his breath heavy, his chest reddened, and his hands against his eyes.
"Oh— Shit, god— It's burning—!" He could feel his insides yelling at him, his stomach turning inside out, his intestines knotting into themselves, and he wasn't understanding. He wasn't sure what was going on. He never experienced this, never—
And his nose flared, catching your scent in the room. His hands dropped to his sides, and his head turned to look your way. You saw his pupils blown out again, his breath coming out in sharp puffs through his teeth, like an animal. He was sweating, his hair sticking to his forehead, and you could see how his veins popped out when he clenched his fists.
"Eddie?" He turned to face you, took a single step, determined, predatory.
Take.
"FUCK!" He stepped back again, grabbing onto his head, and it was pounding at him. He finally realized that the voice inside of him was himself, all along… The primal part of himself. The Alpha.
It wanted you. It needed you. It wanted to possess you. To claim you. To breed you. To mate you. To make you his for eternity. But he couldn't do that, because that would hurt you. That would be too rough on you, he could feel it. He could sense it in his own body that he was going to be feral.
"Eddie, what is going on baby!? You need to talk to me, so I can help you!"
"No! No— Don't— Shit—!" He had to concentrate. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk hurting you or for you to walk away because it was just too much. He wouldn't be able to bear it. "Peach, grab my handcuffs— Cuff me to the bed, and go downstairs to sleep on the couch—"
"What!?"
"Do as I say! I— I will—" He was panting, trying not to look your way and trying not to smell you. Trying not to let his senses feel you in any way.
"Eddie, I told you I was going to help you, and I meant it, so please, tell me what I can do!" You yelled, now worried because he wouldn't stop the heavy breathing, and you feared he was having a panic attack or was going to run short of breath.
"Not like this— No. I'm— Fuck, Peach, I need another dosage of suppressants for my rut— These are not working—!" He cried again, hunching down as he held onto his head, his groin in pain as it was high and alert, twitching, begging, leaking. You rushed to his side, and your scent washed over him, making him flinch away from you, his eyes in a panicked state.
"Eddie… Please, let me help you…" You begged. You saw his pain, his need, his desperation, but also his worry. His worry of hurting you, his fear of marking you more than you were. He shook his head, his chest moving up and down from his breathing.
"I will hurt you— I know I will… I don't— I don't feel like myself… This never happened…" He felt like crying, because he didn't know how much longer he could hang onto his rational side. The longer he smelled you, the longer his gaze lingered just a bit more over your neck, your jaw, your chest, the more he felt like he was going insane.
"Eddie, you won't hurt me, you would never—"
"I don't know— I swear, it's never like this—" He tried to explain, to make you understand that this was not normal. This was not common. This was bad. You shook your head, aiming to hold onto his arms.
"Then we'll get through it together. Just tell me what you need!" His eyebrows were meeting in the middle as he looked at you, breathing heavily and almost as if he were about to start crying. He could feel his groin hurting, aching for attention and release. He shook his head again, no longer being able to step away from your hands.
"Peach… I— I'm afraid I'll knot— That's how bad it is… I know it's impossible, but—" And you shushed him, your fingertips finally touching his biceps, and you almost winced from how hot he felt.
"You won't… And it's going to be okay—"
"I don't want to do things you don't want to do— Force you into anything— Please—" You frowned, shaking your head as your hands gripped his arms tightly, pulling yourself closer to him.
"You are not forcing me, nor am I doing this against my will! I enjoy it, and it brings me as much pleasure as it brings you… Please, understand that, Eddie… Even if I am helping you, I am also having a good time… I've been saying it all day…" Your voice was soft, and it calmed him down just enough so that your words processed in his head.
You had, in fact, been telling him all day that he had nothing to worry about. You had made yourself clear, and you voiced out how good he made you feel. It didn't erase the guilt inside of him, and much less the fear of being too much. Of the situation being too much. Of him being too much. The fear that you would walk away from him, stopping him from going even further.
But if what you were saying was true—
"Sweetheart… If I hurt you—" Your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Your heart aches for the man before you, wishing he'd understand how you'd move sea and mountains for him. He took a sharp intake of breath the closer you got.
"You won't… Just… Take me, Eddie…"
THUMP.
Take.
Your lips found his jaw, his eyes closing as his arms stayed on his sides, afraid of touching you still. He slowly lost himself in the feeling, in your lips moving around his face, your body pressing against his. You were still wet from the bath, wearing only that towel around you.
THUMP. THUMP.
He could feel his heart beating in his ears. It was getting louder and louder, becoming almost painful.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
"Eddie… Please…" You whispered, and he smelled it. Your arousal. You were wet. You had slick. You were waiting for him. You were expecting him. You needed him.
MATE.
His hands gripped your towel, and you were bare in a second. You gasped slightly, surprised by the pull, the damp fabric being thrown to the side as he looked all over your body, eyes completely black, and a face you've never seen before. Not at all.
An intense shiver ran down your spine as you stared into his eyes. He looked bigger, or you just fell smaller, like prey. You were tempted to take a step back from the shock of it, but his arm instantly wrapped around your waist, pushing you into his body. Your hands landed on his chest, and he was running hotter than any other time. Hotter than a minute ago. It was as if you were touching blazing red coal.
His nostrils flared repeatedly, and the room spun. It felt as if you were high, and you relaxed into his hold. It felt good. It felt so good, and all the ache you felt under there was gone. Soreness wasn't in your vocabulary at this moment. The scent in the room was strong, addictive, and it surrounded you like a blanket.
He desperately took your lips, devouring you instantly. His tongue dipped into your mouth, and you whimpered against him, the intensity making your knees start to buckle underneath you. He growled, loud, as he got to taste you, take you with the force of his own hunger.
You could feel his hardness through his pants, your hips slamming against his, and it only drove you insane. You wanted him inside of you, desired it, needed it. You knew you became putty against Eddie, each time, but never this strongly. You didn't need the pheromones to become drunk on him, but this was something else. This was just making you lose your mind. And you didn't mind it. In fact, you liked it.
"Eddie—" You mumbled into his mouth, and you heard him groan, your bottom lip being bitten softly. You sighed in delight, and you felt his other free hand roaming down your body, down your stomach, holding you up with his arm still around your waist.
Your mouth opened in an 'o' shape when you felt his fingers find your center. He moaned your name in pure bliss as he felt your wetness, covering your inner thighs, and as he glided through your folds to soak his fingers in your slick, you could feel just how wet you became since you entered the room.
His mouth was still lingering over yours, eating up your soft breaths as his index and ring fingers started circling your clit, with need and passion. It wasn't slow. You threw your head back, your moans leaving your mouth as he kept you on your two legs. He growled, shaking his head.
"Look at me." And it felt as if you received a slap, the need to follow the command coming naturally. You look back at him, your eyes half lidded, glossing over from how aroused you felt. Then, a new sound. Like a purr. You frowned slightly, your mouth opening to ask, curiosity shining through the heat, only to be interrupted by his middle finger entering you, gliding inside without any restraint.
How? How were you this ready? It didn't matter. Not now. Not when he started fingering you, rapidly, his eyes never leaving your face as your hands grabbed at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. You were gasping, eyes closed as your legs trembled. You were pretty sure you were no longer putting any effort on staying upright, but his hold was so strong.
"Oh, fuck—" You moaned out, feeling yourself burning, your insides turning at each of his strokes. You could hear the squelching, the rapid movements, and then another finger. Your grip tightened, your eyes widened. You felt yourself beginning to sweat, and your head fell back again against your own will. "I can't—"
He immediately attacked your throat, inhaling deeply, a rumble vibrating in his chest with delight. His tongue lolling out of his mouth, and then licking your skin, tasting your sweat. Sweet as you smelled.
"You are so perfect… So perfect for me…" His words were no longer processing in his brain. He meant every single one, but there was no filter. Not anymore. You were his, and just his. His fingers curled as he quickened his pace, making you choke on your saliva, your legs trembling as you tried to keep standing, knowing well he was doing all the work, but you still tried.
You could feel sucking, nipping, kissing your neck. Licking you every now and then as the squelching between your legs became louder, more obscene, but it was adding up to the need. To the desire. There was a dopey smile on your lips as choked moans escaped you, and your walls started fluttering around his fingers.
His grip on your waist tightened, holding you up, and your legs started cramping as your climax started building up. Your feet raised, leaving you on your tiptoes, squirming into his hold. Your breathing quickened, your hands moving erratically, going from his shoulders to his biceps, trying to grip yourself onto something because you were sure you were going to fall at any point.
"Eddie— I'm gonna cum, oh—!" He nodded against your neck, a new finger entering you, before he pressed his palm against your clit, and his movements changed to rapidly move up and down, his fingers curled inside of you still. Your hips jerked against him as you felt your g-spot being abused by him, and your clit being rubbed in the right way.
"Cum for me. Just for me." You cried out as your walls clenched tightly around his fingers, and he growled in approval, his movements rapid, desperate, the squelching of your juices louder than before from how much you were cumming around him. Your legs were almost flailing at the force of your climax, but he held you in your place, the grip bruising.
Your eyes were rolled back into your head, your entire body tense as he kept the movement of his fingers, of his hand, helping you ride your orgasm out. You didn't know if you were breathing properly any longer. The only thing you listened to were his growls, his groans, his moaning into your ear, calling out your name over and over again.
You were panting, legs finally relaxing once your climax went down, eyes fluttering shut. The soles of your feet touched the ground again once he pulled his fingers out from you. You relaxed into his hold with a sigh, body spasming from the aftershock of it all. You could feel his lips on your cheek, kissing you softly, bringing you back to earth.
"Eddie…" You called out, voice so little that it was almost imperceptible.
"That's my good girl. My girl…" Your eyes opened again, seeing him pulling his head away from you to lick his fingers clean, from the bed of his palm, to the tip of his fingers. Your mouth remained open at the sight, while his closed in pure ecstasy, a moan vibrating in his throat. You saw his Adam's apple bob up and down, and your knees were buckling from the exhaustion, and also from how aroused you still felt.
Then his eyes clashed with yours again, and you almost gasped at the sight of them, still black, still in need, still predatory. He didn't eat you yet, not at all. He just had a taste. It felt as if he were stronger, as if he were being driven by something other than just lust. An adrenaline you've never seen before in him. Yet, there was a glimmer of himself somewhere, a part that was still scared of continuing.
Your hand landed on his cheek, rubbing it gently, and you knew you had to reassure him. You nodded slowly, your eyes driving towards his lips for a second, then back to his eyes.
"Take what you need… Everything…" Your words were short, talking as much as your heavy breathing let you. You saw his eyes widen slightly, his breath hitching, and you felt him moving, quickly, desperately. It was too fast. One moment, your feet were on the ground, and the next, they were up in the air, his hands on the back of your thighs, holding you up as he stomped towards the wall, slamming your back against it.
You whimpered at how erotic, how needy he was being. Again, you knew you were selfish for liking what he was doing to you, when he was probably in pain or discomfort. But your arms were now wrapped around his shoulders as he scrambled to free himself from his sweatpants with one hand. His heavy breathing was against your ear, your pussy clenching around nothing as you heard him call out to you, his body pressing tightly against yours.
You could feel the moment he freed himself, his cock slapping against your entrance, and his hands gripped your ass tightly, keeping you in the air. You didn't even need to wrap your legs around his waist; he didn't need the help.
"Peach." You looked into his eyes, and that one glimmer that was still there of himself, slowly disappeared the moment he started pushing into you. Your mouth fell into an 'o' shape, your brows falling on the sides at the intrusion. It was burning, it was so good, and it stretched you so nice, like it always did.
His lips found yours, kissing you passionately as he kept sinking. Your hands grabbed at the back of his head, fingers running into his hair, making it fall from the loose ponytail. You kissed back, matching his hunger, matching his need. His chest rumbled, his body shook as he kept going, until his hips finally found yours.
He growled loudly at the feeling, and his grip tightened, branding your skin. He couldn't wait. He couldn't. Not anymore. He needed it. He needed you. He needed to do so many things to you. You didn't have a single idea of what he felt, of what his thoughts were right now.
Your lip-smacking got interrupted when he immediately started slamming into you, the wall creaking slightly behind you. You pulled away, loud moans escaping you, falling against his lips. You felt him move in and out of you, and you swore you felt every ridge, every vein popping out from him. Maybe you were too gone, and you were imagining things by now, but if you were, it was feeling so good.
"F-Fuck— God, this feels amazing," You were babbling, his hips abusing their power and their force at each thrust. Your spongy spot being hit every single time, perfectly, making your insides turn into themselves. He groaned, his mouth finding one of your nipples, and you whimpered as you felt his teeth tugging at it, the pain and the pleasure shooting a shiver down your spine.
"I can't wait…" He mumbled, as if in a trance. He was kissing your nipples as his hips kept going, never stopping. He couldn't wait? For what? Through your haze, you could still think, somehow, surprisingly. Through moans, jagged breaths, you talked.
"For—For what?" Your body jerked into the wall, up and down, his railing never stopping as his breathing quickened, and his voice was hoarse. His lips moved against your left breast, his teeth biting your skin around your nipple, making you gasp.
"To see you… round." He growled the words out, as if it pained him to even wait. But you felt dizziness engulfing you at what he just said. Was he meaning what you thought he meant? You fluttered around him, your nails digging into his scalp.
"R-Round?"
"Pregnant… My kids… Pups—" He mumbled that last word, his cock pistoning in and out of you, and his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking yet another mark into your skin.
Oh god. You didn't think you could love him more than you did now, but this side of him, this feral part you are getting to know, you loved as well. It showed you just how much he desired you. What he wanted with you. What he needed from you. You felt a tear rolling down your face as the intensity grew, your feelings now mixing with your lust, with your pleasure.
His mind was gone by now. He wasn't thinking rationally, and he wasn't filtering his words. The beast took over, and he couldn't control it. He couldn't. Not with you. Not anymore.
"You— You know that I can't—" You tried voicing out, and he growled, shaking his head as he slammed himself inside, sitting there as you cried his name out. His lips came to hover over yours, his pupils gazing into yours.
"I'll breed you until it takes." And you were stunned into silence. You knew you couldn't get pregnant. He knew it too, so why—?
You squealed as you felt yourself being pulled away from the wall, his hands grabbing onto you with ease, and he left his pants behind as he walked. The world spun, his words still lingered in your brain as your back hit the bed, your head on the pillow. He never once pulled out, not in all that movement, or maybe he did, but you were still distracted by his words.
His Alpha… wanted you.
Your head was thrown back, and your hand slammed onto his back, nails digging into his skin and running down as he started ramming into you. He was— He was a beast. He was groaning, growling, and you could barely keep your eyes open. You felt your pussy clenching, your belly cramping at the climax that was slowly building inside of you.
He was looking down at you, his hair almost like a curtain around his face, and all he was watching was the way your face contorted. How your body replied to what he was doing to you.
TAKE.
"FUCK!" You screamed out as he angled himself just right, hitting your spot over and over again. He felt you flutter, and he was sliding in and out of you so easily from how turned you were. From how wet and ready you were for him. Ready to receive.
You were choking on your own saliva, drool rolling down the corner of your mouth, and your eyes were completely unfocused as you bounced into the bed. This was the hardest he'd ever fucked you. It was intense, and if there was any pain, it was completely overlapped by the pleasure, and the climax that was approaching rapidly.
He grunted ferociously over you, his eyes never leaving your face, never once missing a single second from all the movements you made. He moved closer, his breath hitting your lips, making you open your eyes, looking into his.
"Call out for me." He commanded. Your cunt fluttered, clenching around him as you couldn't concentrate. He wanted you to say his name.
"Ed—Eddie—" You moaned out, eyes starting to close as you knew your orgasm was about to crash, but you got distracted when his hand came to grab your jaw and neck, making your eyes snap open again. You gasped as your hands came to grip at his shoulders. His hold wasn't cutting your breath, but it was tight.
And then the growl and— His teeth were bared, close to your face.
"Call. Out. For. Me."
His hips never stopped, not once, and you were staring into his eyes. Eyes that were void of conscience, driven by pure lust and instinct. Designation. His digits dug into your skin as he held your face in place, waiting for your answer.
His gaze was intense, not murderous, but impatient. He was almost shaking on top of you, by the force of his thrusts, and by the need. It took you a few seconds to understand that what he wanted wasn't his name. He wasn't asking for that.
And you knew what he needed. You could feel it.
"A— Alpha…" You whispered, softly, and the world stopped. It felt like galaxies clashed together, and his movements stopped completely, his breathing halting.
And he snapped.
Something triggered inside of him, and you could only cry out as he started a feral pace, desperate, hitting every single part inside of you. He was huffing, growling, and he could only focus on one thing, and one thing only.
"You're mine. You've always been mine. Made for me." He was talking through his teeth, hissing at each drag of his cock in you, "Again."
"Alpha— Alpha, Alpha!" Your nails were digging into his skin, and you knew you were drawing blood, and his grip on your jaw and neck tightened. You gasped loudly, your bodies sweating, rubbing against one another, and you knew that there was a pure mess between your legs.
He was groaning, his hips stuttering slightly, and you knew he was close. You could hear it in the heavy breaths that were coming out of his nose. Your body started twitching, shaking, and your belly burned like never before.
"Mine." It was as if his voice was far away, your mind completely fogged as your cunt throbbed around him, until it finally hit you. You cried out, back arching just slightly as he kept you still. He grunted, feeling you clench all around him, keeping him inside of you.
"A—AL—" You couldn't talk anymore, tears running down your face as you came around him, your juices just dripping from the sides.
He shook above you, and he whispered something, or maybe he said it, but your brain was too far gone. Your orgasm made you blind, deaf, and mute, and you just kept riding it. You could feel him slamming himself once, twice, thrice, just deep and sharp, and then he finally came inside of you.
You felt him filling you, never-ending, and your body shook underneath him as he rutted his hips against yours. You felt him move your head, and his palm suddenly rested on the left side of your face, while the right rested against the pillow. You were breathing heavily as you kept feeling him, and you couldn't believe he was still cumming, and you were still trying to come down from your orgasm.
And then finally, one last thrust of his. He sat inside of you, and you finally let out a sigh, your body slowly relaxing, your cunt unclenching, and then—
Pain. Sudden, sharp pain.
A pain so deep that it made your world turn black.
Stinging.
Ripping.
And your eyes closed.
Fuck.
What the hell happened?
You were so disoriented as you regained consciousness, and what a bad idea that was. The sunlight was shining through the sheer curtains, and you could barely open your eyes because even your eyelids felt sore.
Everything hurt. Every inch of your body was in pain. Every joint. Every finger. Your skin burned with all of the marks that were littered all over. Legs, chest, tummy, arms, breasts, even. You moved your toes just slightly, and you groaned softly at the pain. Worth it.
You opened your eyes, slowly, tentatively, and your head was turned to your right, and you saw the back of Eddie's head, lying down on his belly. He was butt-naked, and he was snoring loudly. You sighed as you saw him finally relaxed, and hopefully his rut was gone.
You winced a bit as you moved your legs, and you could feel just a sticky mess between your inner thighs, which were still spread. So, Eddie also passed out last night after he came, because Eddie always took care of you after. You closed your eyes as you remembered it, and then, how you called him 'Alpha'.
He liked that. Should you do it more? Should you apply it to casual sex? It felt weird to say it, but it also didn't. Then you remembered his eyes, and how feral Eddie had gotten. You never thought you would see something like that, ever. He looked like an animal that was ready to eat you.
Well, he kind of did. You opened your eyes again, and you were already dreading moving, but you had to clean yourself. Your juices and his cum were just dripping out of your core and down onto the sheets. It was probably a mess, and the sheets might need to be burned… Maybe the mattress too.
You let out a sigh and decided it was time to get up from bed and start the day. So you turned your head and—
"Wha—" You took a sharp intake of breath with a gasp as a striking pain shot from your left shoulder, and then all the way down your spine, reaching your toes. It hurt more than any other part of your body. You clenched your eyes shut, trying not to scream, cry out, or even wince, because you were going to wake Eddie up, and he needed to rest.
But what the hell was that? It felt so bad. It stung, it burned, it was pulsating and throbbing. You were breathing heavy as you slowly turned your head to your left, your eyes burning from the sting that each movement provoked. Then, finally, you saw it, and you were shocked as you saw your pillow and part of the sheets.
Blood covered them, not much, but they were stained. You frowned, not being able to see the entirety of your shoulder, but you knew it was coming from there. Red covered your skin, and you saw a wound of some kind. You licked your lips, reaching over slowly, trying not to wince at each movement you made.
You gasped in your throat as you felt your skin there. There were puncture marks, deep ones, and it felt sticky still, which meant that the wound was not closed or stopped bleeding entirely. You didn't know for how long you passed out for, so you didn't know when this was done, or how—
Wait, are these… teeth?
You had to get up. You didn't want Eddie to feel bad. You didn't— But fuck, it hurt. It hurt. Your skin was ripped, and your entire left shoulder hurt. The sting went up your ear, and down your arm and chest. You took sharp intakes of breath, bracing yourself to try to sit up and take care of this.
But as soon as you moved your shoulder when you aimed to do so, a loud whimper left your throat. You couldn't help it. You saw movement from the corner of your eye, not daring to move your head any longer. You could feel the bed shifting, and you knew Eddie was either moving or waking up. You hoped he was just turning—
"Baby?"
Fuck. Fuck. Your right hand came up, and you pressed it against your left shoulder, clenching your eyes tightly as you hid your wound. You could feel the blood sticking to your palm, and your flesh was burning at the touch. You wanted to scream, but you weren't going to.
"Hi— I uh… I was going to get up to go to the bathroom… Go back to sleep, Eds…" You whispered, trying not to show any signs of discomfort, but your voice was slightly cracked. Shit.
You felt him move again, and finally, he sat up, moving his hair away from his face. Your eyes almost widened when you saw dry blood on his lips, on the corners of his mouth, just smeared all over. Your blood. His eyes were still squinting from sleep, and he frowned as he looked at you.
"Are you okay?"
"Ye—Yes, why wouldn't I be? It's just… a mess down there, maybe get a towel?" You tried to distract him, tried to move his sight away from your shoulder. His eyes moved from your legs and up, inspecting you, and then…
Blood.
There was blood on your pillow. There was blood around you. Why was there blood around you? Why? His eyes were wide, and his breathing stuttered. Long gone was the pain in his body. The soreness. The worry of the day ahead. His rut had vanished, and now his own self was back. But now, you were holding your left shoulder, and the fact was… that there was blood under it.
"Please, no…" His voice was small, filled with fear. You could see him panicking, the brown irises now showing, and you gulped, giving him a small smile to reassure him that you were okay.
"Baby, I'm okay—" He shook his head desperately, scrambling out from bed, and you could see how he was trembling as he put on his boxers and rushed out of the room. You were left there, moving your head just slightly to follow him, and that movement alone sent shocks of pain in your shoulder.
You braced yourself, taking a deep breath as you pushed yourself up, letting go of your left shoulder to press your right elbow on the mattress. You huffed as you used the leverage to sit up. You looked at your right hand, your eyebrows twitching at the sight of your blood, sticky and almost dry. You turned your head slowly to finally take a look at the stain it left behind on the white sheets.
You heard Eddie scrambling outside, things falling, and you quickly covered your wound again, and if only you could move properly, you would have covered the stains with more sheets. There was a mix of emotions running inside of you, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt the wound underneath your hand.
Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard stomps coming your way. You slowly turned your head to see Eddie sitting in front of you, his eyes full of worry, of pain, of… regret. He placed the first aid kit on the bed, opening it. His breathing was erratic, his hands trembling as he grabbed the alcohol, looking at your covered left shoulder.
"Let me see." You licked your lips nervously, wanting to shake your head, but you knew that was going to be painful.
"Eddie, it's okay, I'm fine. Just— Go get a shower and I'll take care of this—"
"Let me fucking see, Peach." His voice trembled as he slowly reached for your hand. Your eyes never left his face as he moved your hand away. A wince escaped your lips as air hit your flesh, and Eddie— Eddie wanted to kill himself.
He felt his head starting to throb in pain. His heart contorted into itself as he saw what he caused. In his trip to the bathroom, he didn't even look at himself, desperate to find something to help you, to fix this. The tip of his tongue touched the corner of his mouth, and he could taste it. Iron. Yours. Your blood.
You could see the turmoil of emotions that were going on through his brain by the twitching in his eyebrows. You felt yourself becoming nervous. The air around the two of you was tense as his eyes never moved away from your shoulder. Then towards the sheets, towards the pillow, then back to you.
"Eddie, I feel okay, it's just—"
"I hurt you." He mumbled, and he just sat there. How could he have let this happen? How? You gulped heavily, and you forced yourself to shake your head slightly, trying to cover the discomfort.
"No, you didn't mean to—"
"What the fuck? I didn't—?" His eyes were glossing over as indignation filled his arteries, and he got up from the bed, his hands running over his face and through his hair. He wanted to punch himself. He couldn't believe what he had done to you in the middle of his rut. He couldn't bear to see you like this.
"Eddie, you weren't thinking straight, and it's okay, I understand—"
"You understand!?" His body moved towards you, his eyes wide and red from the incoming tears. "I fucking hurt you, Peach! I mauled on you like a goddamn animal!"
"You are exaggerating—!"
"LOOK AT YOUR SHOULDER! There's flesh! Your—" He wanted to rip his hair out, because how could he? He never wanted to see you hurt, and now here you were. On his bed, with an open wound that he caused. You felt your own eyes burning, and you followed his pace as he walked.
"Eddie, just calm down, and let's talk—"
"Murray told me this was going to be a little different, but I didn't expect— Fuck, I didn't expect to go fucking feral on you! He should have given me more suppressants, or knocked me out for it—" He wasn't listening to you. He wasn't.
Fear started to rise up in you, not liking where he was going at all. You had to stop him from blaming himself like this. He has to understand the emotions inside of you, but he wasn't paying attention.
"Okay, then, we talk to him for next time—"
"Next time?" He turned to look at you as if you had just offended him. And time froze.
No. No, this wasn't going to happen.
"Don't you dare—"
"I— I can't… I can't risk hurting you like this. No… I can't change who I am, what I am, and this will happen again, and again and—" You were stunned into silence as you listened to him. No. No. No. You could feel your throat closing up on you, your stomach suddenly nauseous at his words.
"Eddie, we can fix this, together—"
"Fix it!? There is no fixing it!" His chest was blazing hot, and he felt his head banging over and over again, the guilt and pain of having hurt you consuming him. How could you even think you could fix him? How could you think there was a remedy to all of this? How were you not mad? How did you not hate him?
The pain from your left shoulder started becoming non-existent as his words started sinking in. He wasn't seeing the other part of the situation. A part of himself that he explained to you, and you found so endearing.
Tears ran down your cheeks as you tried talking again.
"Munson, I swear to god…"
"This… I can't do this. I can't hurt you like this. Each time I have a rut, I will hurt you because— I just go feral, I go insane, and now—" He couldn't even look at you. He shouldn't have asked you to stay with him for his rut. He shouldn't have asked for your help. Why was he so naive to think this was going to be like the other times? How could he have been so stupid?
"Listen to me—" You were trying. You were trying to make him listen, but the ball in your throat was getting bigger, as the threat of sobs started appearing. He just kept pacing, breathing heavy, stomping, his chest in constant rumble.
"We'll figure it out. This— You shouldn't be with someone like me. I knew I was going to fuck it up sooner or later, and I should have listened to that. I don't deserve you. I don't—"
And you snapped.
"Why can't you see how happy I am!?"
His steps finally stopped, and his body turned to face you, and his eyes stared at you as if you were insane.
"Happy? Happy that I almost ripped your left shoulder off!?" Your heart was ablaze, and you needed him to understand. He had to. You couldn't lose him. Not now. Not after this.
"You bit me!"
"Clearly! And I hurt you—!"
"YOU BIT ME WHERE MY MATING GLAND WOULD BE!"
And the solar system stopped spinning.
The reality of the situation started to slowly sinking in, and his eyes stared at the mark he gave you. He bit you. He— You remembered that. You remembered. He didn't even think about it, just too worried of your pain, of the hurt he caused.
He moved slowly, coming to sit on the bed again, facing you. There was a frown in his eyebrows, understanding, yet not quite. He grew nervous, terrified, and he felt so vulnerable right now. He was growing a cold sweat, and his fingertips started to itch, wanting to touch you, pull you close to him.
"But— I hurt you… I— You don't have a mating gland—" And you nodded, sniffling as more tears slid down your cheeks. You couldn't lie anymore. You couldn't contain your feelings any longer. No. Not anymore.
"But you still tried… You tried mating me… You— Your Alpha wanted me to be his forever…" You softly spoke, and his eyes finally met yours,
"Peach…"
"I'm in love with you. So, you have no idea how this feels for me… How amazing, even if painful, this experience is…"
You didn't expect those words to come out of your mouth, not that easily. Eddie's eyes were staring at your face, and you couldn't quite decipher what he was thinking. Then his head tilted, just slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
"What did you say?" Your eyes widened as you realized what you just said. You flushed all over, feeling as if your blood pressure had gone down a bit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Him biting you didn't mean he would reciprocate. You should have known that— You're so fucking stupid.
"I'm— You don't have to feel the same, I just… I'm…" You were stuttering, feeling helpless, feeling as if you had made a big mistake.
But your thoughts were shut down when two hands cradled your face, keeping your eyes on him. You were surprised to see his emotions shining through. As if he were pained. As if he never in his life believed he would receive something like that. It hurt to see him like this. It hurt to know that Eddie never thought he would be with someone.
"You love me?" You gulped heavily, the embarrassment and the fear sitting strongly in your stomach, but you knew this had to be said. That he needed to understand and know that he was the best thing that happened to your life in the last year.
"I do… I love you, Munson…" And then, you saw a tear fall down his right eye. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe you. He couldn't understand that someone like you existed. That someone like you would accept every single part of him, and be happy to know it. Be happy to experience it.
And so he moved forward, pressing his lips against yours, just gently, but a sob broke through from his throat, landing on your lips. Your right hand held onto his bicep, your heart just exploding out of your chest, the sparks and the electricity running over your body. Eddie kissed you like something precious, like something that he should be careful with.
He pulled away seconds later, his eyes red from crying, and he gulped heavily. He was terrified. He always had been. He has been terrified since the moment he let you in his room. He was terrified from the moment he felt possessive of you. He was terrified from the moment he invited you to spend the weekend together. He was terrified that all of these things happened naturally, and he couldn't stop them.
And another thing that happened naturally, but actually didn't scare him as he thought it would—
"I love you too, Peach… God, I love… I love you so much, you have no idea…"
You sighed in relief, a smile making its way through your tears, shaking as you heard those words coming out of his mouth. He loves you. He loves you so much that he wants to mark you.
"You wanted to mate me…" His jaw clenched, looking at the wound again, and the feelings suddenly shifted. He felt… proud. You accepted his bite. Even without a mating gland, he was fixed on making you his in the best way that he could. His body reacted to you. The Alpha in him chose you. Had chosen you from the very first time you two got together.
"I did… Cause' I really can't imagine a life without, darling… I really can't. Not anymore." Your body warmed instantly, your eyes never leaving his as he talked. "I never thought I would find someone like you… I really didn't… Wayne told me to keep looking, to keep being hopeful. I thought he was bluffing and then… You just had to appear and prove me wrong, didn't you?"
He gave you a wet chuckle as his thumbs rubbed your cheeks, and you couldn't believe how happy you felt. You couldn't even begin to describe it. It was the happiest you've ever felt. Way better than a marriage proposal. He wanted a complete forever. A chemical reaction for forever that no divorce could break. With you. Just you.
"I am glad I moved here… I really am… No matter why I did it in the first place, I am happy I moved…" He finally smiled your way, his dimples showing and he finally pressed his lips against yours again. Moving them softly, and you could simmer in the warmth of it all. He loves you. He loves you. Just as much as you love him, and you can hardly believe it.
"And I am happy Robin met you." You smiled at him, and he licked his lips as happiness engulfed him, but his attention was brought back to your shoulder. He pulled away and moved to grab the first Aid kit. He grabbed the alcohol to disinfect and some gauze and tape. He looked your way again, and you were already wincing, scrunching your nose at the alcohol.
"That's… gonna sting…"
"You can handle it." And it sure fucking did. You bit your bottom lip and clenched your eyes as you turned your head away when he pressed the gauze on your shoulder that was filled with alcohol. You opened your mouth and tried not to let any noise out. You closed it again, and more pain shot through. You wanted to jerk away from him, but you were trying to be tough.
"I can't even feel it…" Your voice was high-pitched, holding the pain in, and he managed to finally chuckle, even if little. He was still guilty, but he couldn't deny what he tried to do. No. What he did.
"This isn't the first time…" You frowned as he got another gauze, a dry one, pressing it against your shoulder and taping it securely to your skin.
"First time of what?"
"Me trying to bite you." Your eyes widened, looking at him. He had a pink tint on his cheeks as he looked away from you.
"What?"
"Remember the first time we… did without protection?" You gave him a very small nod, not daring to move more than that. "The next day, your pillow was kind of shredded… I told you it was my hand… But, I tried to bite your shoulder that day…"
Your mouth fell open in shock. He was still looking away, and he was gulping heavily. He was in no rut that day… And he tried to mate you. You weren't even exclusive when he tried. For that long? For that long, he wanted to make you his? For that long, his Alpha decided you were the one?
"Wow… You've been crazy for me for a while, huh?" You joked, mimicking him from when the first time you confessed to him. He smiled, leaning over to kiss over the gauze, finally covering your wound. His bite mark.
"Hey, I never said that." He chuckled, looking at you adoringly. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I will have to tell Murray about this. I might need a stronger suppressant for my ruts. Another type of medicine so I don't… go feral again."
"Aw, but I liked you Feral…" You pouted and he glared your way, but the smile never faded.
"Darling…" He warned you with a little bit of tone, and you giggled.
"Maybe we can use a muzzle." He rolled his eyes your way and then chuckled, looking down at your hands. He gulped heavily, and he moved his head up again, facing you. He had to be vocal about it. He had to let you know that this was more than a normal relationship. Far more.
"Peach…"
"Hmm?"
"Mating gland… Or not… You are my mate." You froze, and his eyes found yours again, his face completely serious as he continued, "And I am yours… If you'd have me…"
You felt like crying. Hearing him confirming it, hearing him say that to you, just made you feel as if you were touching heaven with your bare hands. You sniffled as you tried your best to keep your composure. You moved your right hand, pushing him into you, your nose dipping into the left crook of his neck and shoulder, inhaling his scent.
Eddie held you gently, a wide smile on his face as he blushed, happiness engulfing him in ways he never imagined. A soft purr rumbled in his chest, and that was very uncommon for Alphas. But he was just so happy… So exhilarated that—
"OW!" He yelped and moved away from you, looking down at his left shoulder. It wasn't as deep as the mark he gave you, but you had bitten him. He wouldn't feel anything out of it because you weren't an Omega, but you still reciprocated the bite. You wanted the same thing he wanted. A forever.
And his chest was set ablaze with determination. You were smiling his way cheekily, and he just found you so beautiful. So… perfect. And you were his. And he was yours.
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️18+: lots omegaverse lore, angst, arguments, fluff, a slight mention of omegaverse lore from the past that indicates non consent (not right now), disappointment, and something weird going on.
wc: 10.5k
A/N: I am so sorry it took so long!!!!!! I honestly was all over the place with this chapter because I honestly didn't know what to do with it before the next one WHICH IS THE ONE YOU ALL ARE WAITING FORRRR
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 29
You suddenly were intrigued by it all.
The very next day, you had awoken earlier than Eddie did, preparing breakfast, and as you waited for him to come down the stairs, you pulled your laptop up on the island counter. You started searching for information, wanting to know more about the past.
You had never been interested in myths or historical events, but— Now, you felt the need to, so you could understand him. So you could be in his world and be ready for whatever was to come. Your eyes were stuck to the screen as you browsed pictures of old famous figures, their secondary genders known. Historical figures. Kings, Queens, soldiers, historians, philosophers…
It was unbelievable how the world was before. How forgotten all of it was. How easily people decided to discard it all, and you were one of those people. You wondered if Eddie ever felt angry at that fact. That the world would dismiss who he was as non-existent.
So many historical events are forgotten because it had Alphas or Omegas in it, and it never occurred to you how important some things might have been. The fertility treatments were done by Omegas. They created them. The plan was to create treatments to bring back the secondary genders as they were growing extinct, but the lack of technology at that time made it impossible to get there.
It made sense now that Murray wanted that. The technology is there now; the means to create a treatment like that are possible. But there was one thing missing. Actual Omegas and Alphas. People to take the DNA from to create those treatments. But then Eddie—
You were startled when you heard the clinking of metal, looking up to see Eddie coming downstairs, shirtless, his hair down. He was rubbing his right eye as he reached the bottom stairs, yawning, stretching his arms up in the air. You bit your lip as you saw the expanse of his chest tighten, his tattoos flexing all over.
"Stop ogling me, woman." You giggled as he got closer, kissing your lips in greeting. "Morning. You're up early."
"Yeah, but I made breakfast while your ass was still knocked out." He turned his head to the other counter, whistling as he saw the pancakes, walking over to them to serve the plates. Your eyes drifted to his back, to the tattoo that went from his left arm to his neck, covering what he called a mating gland.
You closed the laptop, pushing it aside as you saw Eddie turning to hand a plate with pancakes for you, and then one for him. When he finally settled down to eat, your eyes kept looking at him, trying to eat your food and contain your curiosity, but it was harder with every minute that passed. You didn't want to overwhelm him, or think anything was different because of what you now knew he was, but you still had so many questions—
"You know I can smell how anxious you are, right?" You straightened up at that, heat pooling at your cheeks as you shifted in your seat. He looked at you behind his eyelashes, his head tilting slightly in question.
"Yeah, kind of forgot about that…" You answered, and he let out a breath through his nose, looking at your computer for a second and then back at you.
"Work?"
"Oh, no… I—" You wondered if this would upset him at all. You just wanted to know more about him, about his condition, about what you could expect, or how they acted in the past. More about the rituals, about the needs, just like the courting he told you he did. "I was just looking up for more information about… all of it."
His eyes found yours, his breath becoming a little elaborated. He didn't sense any sign of you being scared, or of you not liking this new development. If anything, he could feel your curiosity, as you bit the inside of your right cheek, afraid of what he would think about it.
And if he had to be honest, this was new for him. His entire medical record was explained to Steve by Murray himself. His best friend barely asked any questions, just enough to help Eddie if he needed anything. Now you, you were very curious, intrigued, going beyond what you have been explained, medically.
He really liked it.
"What do you want to know?" He asked, and you sighed in relief, taking a sip of your juice, before talking again.
"Everything? Like, what you felt? When it began? How you lived until now and—" He moved his hands to stop you for a second, swallowing the piece of pancake he just took.
"Hold up, one question at a time, baby." He smirked when he felt a spike in your scent. You really loved it when he called you baby. He took note of that the day before, when you mentioned how much you liked it.
"Okay… So, you presented at sixteen… How did it happen? What were you doing?" He licked his lips, moving the plate away, resting his elbows on the island counter as he looked up, recalling those days.
"It was… a build-up. At first, I thought it was the flu and it would go away, but then the heat got worse. I started skipping school, and then the pain started." His eyes turned to look back down at yours again, and you just gazed at him, listening carefully.
"Was it bad?"
"Intensely so. My head pounded, my stomach felt as if it were stretching, then all of my bones felt like they were about to break or something…" He sighed as he recalled his own screams at night at particular sharp pains shooting through his body. "Not to mention how bad my genital area felt."
You winced at that, and he chuckled, taking a blueberry into his mouth.
"Ouch."
"Got that right."
"So, you went to hospitals…" You continued for him, and he nodded.
"Yeah… Uncle Wayne took me everywhere he could. The bills kept piling up, and we had no answers. Tons of blood work, tons of screenings, x-rays, and all they told him 'He is hitting puberty a little late.'" He copied the voice of a nurse in a high-pitched tone, making you scoff with a smile.
"And then you met Murray." You said, remembering your conversation from the day before. Eddie nodded, sighing.
"Yeah."
"How did he detect that you could possibly be… an Alpha? I mean, he could have bypassed you as any other patient who was in pain." You wondered how that happened. Murray just said he found them because he was infiltrated in a hospital, but how did he find Eddie?
"Once he saw me, we thought he was a doctor. He asked for my name and if we had been assigned to a doctor or nurse yet. Wayne told him we had, and no one could find what I was having, that this was the fifth time I was in the hospital. Then, he asked for symptoms… And that's when he took us to his facility." He explained, and you sat back, deep in thought as you looked at the counter.
"And you just… went."
"Wayne and I were desperate. I wanted the pain and the burning to be gone. At one point, I thought I was dying." You didn't hear an ounce of joking in his voice. His face was serious, looking away as if remembering it all. You reached out to grab his hand over the counter, and a small appreciative smile appeared on his lips, looking back at you.
"I suppose this Murray guy got… a little excited when he found out what you had?"
"What I am?" He raised an eyebrow as you felt him rub his thumb on the top of your hand. You winced, nodding.
"Yeah, have to get my head around that one…" He chuckled and then nodded.
"I don't know how he initially reacted. I was too far gone in medication. Wayne did say Murray started screaming and cheering…" You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. Your boyfriend was in pain at that time, and the doctor was excited that he was in pain. "No need to get upset over me."
"Okay, how do you— What kind of smell do I give? How do you know… what is what?"
"Well, you often smell sweet to me, a kick of spiciness to it. I'd like to say you literally smell like a peach, with a dash of cinnamon." You could feel your stomach turning as you heard him. It was insane hearing it, but it also made you feel a little happy, a little proud that he smells such a nice thing on you.
"And… when I get mad…?"
"The cinnamon turns stronger. It's either anger, distaste, or disappointment." He explained, and you nodded in understanding.
"And how did Murray know what medicine to give you?" You asked, and he sighed, shaking his head.
"Trial and error. Lots of blood work, some made me throw up, some made me dizzy, some made my emotions become erratic. It was… a crazy time, but he managed to make the suppressant I needed, with old medical books."
You didn't want to admit how much respect you had for the madman he had for a doctor, but he did save Eddie's life, his future. If Murray hadn't appeared, Eddie right now would be secluded in a lab, doctors trying to get DNA from him, or worse, hiding him from the world. Make him disappear. Eddie would be the downfall of the pharmaceutical business, the fertility treatments, all of it.
"And, how did Steve find out?" You continued, and he looked towards the mugs behind your head.
"Wayne made me do it. He told me to tell the second most trusted person I have in my life in case something happened to him." You looked down, feeling your heart sink, now realizing Wayne was right. Something did happen. "Steve came with me to some of my appointments after Wayne got diagnosed."
You licked your lips, feeling your insides turn a bit. You didn't want to impose, but you wanted to ask him— But you shouldn't, but he is your boyfriend now, there shouldn't be a problem, but— He was looking at you now, his head tilted, and you knew he could sense your worry, or that your brain was brewing something.
"I— Well… Maybe I can be the one… going to your appointments too?" You asked shyly, a bit scared you might be imposing a little too much. He smiled, getting off the stool and walking around the island counter to get towards you. Your heart thumped in your chest as his eyes never left yours for a second, and his hands cradled your cheeks tenderly.
"Weren't you going to be the one to keep me in check from now on, Peach?" You couldn't help the smile coming up to your lips, those little words at the tip of your tongue, but feeling like they were too soon to say. His thumb rubbed against your cheek, and your eyes drifted towards his mating gland, then back to his eyes.
"How would… the mating gland work? Why is it called that?" You asked, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise at your question, and he let go of your cheeks, his hands seeking yours in your lap. "I do know that Alphas and Omegas mated for life, but how exactly?"
"Hmm…" He sat on the stool in front of you, never letting go of your hands as he thought. "Well, only Alphas and Omegas have the mating glands. In the past, Alphas would bite the Omega, and seal their bond completely."
You frowned a bit, confused at his words.
"But, if it's just the Alphas biting, why do they also have a mating gland? Like, why do you have a mating gland if you are the biter?" He felt some sense of happiness as he listened to your questions, and you weren't really afraid of him or freaked out. You wanted to understand him. To get him. To be there for him.
"There was the odd occurrence, when an Alpha would ask or let the Omega bite back. The bond is stronger, mutual, deeper. Not that the Alpha biting only is not, but yes, it is much more meaningful if both bite down." He explained, and you straightened up, your eyes drifting to his gland again.
If only. If only that could happen. If only you had that mating gland as well. If only you were an Omega for him, everything would have been perfect. It felt wrong, and it felt like you had a black hole deep in the middle of your chest. Now that you know Eddie was an Alpha, the possibility of you being an Omega had been there, but it just didn't happen for you. It made you sad, mad, and it felt unfair.
"I see…" He could sense your unease, so he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. You took a sharp intake of breath through it, kissing back as you clenched your hands around his. He pulled away, his eyes staring into yours.
"What about you?"
"Huh?"
"How are you feeling about everything you found out?" He asked, and you honestly didn't sit around to think about yourself. You blinked a few times, sitting back as you looked at your hands, trying to figure out exactly what you were feeling.
"I… guess anger." He frowned a bit, tilting his head. "I have been lied to… They fucked me up not only mentally, but physically too… I mean, I'm not exactly normal."
"Baby, you are normal—"
"No, I am not." And he could feel the rage bubbling up inside of him again. He wanted to kill. He wanted to kill those who wronged you. He should have choked Henry to death when he had the chance. He should have done so much worse. Because how dare they? How dare they do something to you? His partner, his ma—
"You're doing it again." You spoke.
"What?"
"You're growling…" You mentioned, and he straightened up, gulping as he cleared his throat.
"I just… feel anger for what they did to you. Like I said, Alphas are protective over their pack. Extremely so…" He was telling the truth, but there was something underneath it, something he didn't dare to say. Not now.
"There's no need to growl, because, even if I am mad… I am also happy…" You suddenly said, surprising him completely. You felt your ears heat up as you looked at him, licking your lips as you felt your throat go dry. "If I were totally normal… We probably would not be here now…"
"Now, I don't like you just because of what we physically can do together, Peach…" You giggled softly, nodding.
"Yes, but… I mean, it did help… You know, I felt special all this time we were together… Knowing you didn't feel this way with others, knowing I was the only one you could truly… enjoy yourself with… It gave me hope that you actually liked me…" You confessed, and he was stunned, looking at you as if you had just descended from heaven itself.
Ever since he presented, Eddie Munson never thought he had a chance of finding a partner. He didn't think someone would actually like him and accept him for what he is. Maybe a girl he met once probably had that intention, but he didn't feel the same pull he has with you. You reeled him in, as if you had gone fishing, and he took the bait willingly. He didn't even fight it. Not once.
It could be something physical, but you were something special. You were something Eddie thought he'd never have. Chances he had to give up. A family. A nice house. A partner for life. His hands came back up to cradle your face again, making you look at him.
"We were made for each other…" He stated. The words slipping out, but you couldn't even deny them. They sounded true. They sounded genuine. They sounded right. You nodded, holding his wrist as you leaned in, your lips itching to get to his.
"You got that right, Munson…" He kissed you passionately, hungrily, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him deeper into it. You felt the blood rushing to your head, and all you could think about was how even knowing everything you knew now, it didn't change a single thing.
So Eddie was an Alpha. Okay, it doesn't change much. You just know about his condition and his medication. You don't need any. You are you, but you are made for Eddie. Just Eddie. Only Eddie. Because you want to be Eddie's forever. You are meant to be his.
He lifted himself from the stool, his arms coming to wrap entirely around your middle, lifting you up from yours, never breaking the kiss. Your feet dangled, holding onto him for support as he carried you towards the couch. You were surprised how it was never enough. You could go at each other for days, sometimes even twice a day.
But Eddie misstepped, thinking he was rounding the couch, but he instead hit the back rest, and made the two of you topple over, pulling away from the kiss, squealing, holding onto one another to try to alleviate the fall. Ending up in a bundle of giggles, you on top of him as he grunted in pain.
"My fucking back!" He laughed out, and you were in bliss as you saw his wide smile. You were deeply in love with him. He glowed as he winced, but his arms never left you, still holding you in place even if you were a weight on him.
"You were the one who tried to be all sexy!" You retorted, and he gasped, his eyes widening as he looked at you.
"Are you trying to say that this was not sexy? That hurts, princess." You rolled your eyes, pecking his lips as you shook your head.
"You're a drama queen." Your sides were suddenly pinched, making you squeal again, trying to get away from his grasp before he started to tickle you.
"Hey, words hurt. You're my girlfriend, you should be nice to me."
"No, being your girlfriend means I can bully you even harder now." A sly smirk appeared on his lips, his eyebrows going up and down.
"You're gonna pull my hair, call me nasty names, and stuff like that? Hot." You slapped his chest, quickly scrambling on your two feet and stepping away from him. Suddenly, realization made you stop on your tracks, which made Eddie sit up on the floor, looking over his shoulder. Your back was turned to him, and he frowned in question, "What's wrong?"
"Robin…" You exclaimed, and you slowly turned around to face him, a saddened look on your face. There was a storm of emotions inside of you, because, did this mean you would have to lie to her again? Hide things from her again? Eddie got up, sighing as he stood before you.
"I know, baby, but we can't—"
"I need her. I need to tell her at least what I have, what I am, what happened to me." Eddie's frown deepened, and he shook his head, feeling his stomach sinking.
"No, you cannot do that." Your eyes widened, confused.
"What? Why not? I won't tell her what you are, or what—" He shook his head again, and it made you become angry, your eyebrows slowly meeting in the middle. "I need to tell her, Eddie!"
"Why do you need to tell her?" He could feel the little flame starting to burn brighter in the middle of his chest, and he had to take a deep breath to calm it down.
"Because she is my best friend? Weren't you mad at me, HATED me a year ago because I was a liar!?" You threw back at him, and his eyes, now glaring, went to gaze into yours.
"I said no! Murray gave you specific instructions to tell no one about it!"
"I won't tell her about the facility! Or you! I will just tell her about what was found and—" He stepped closer, and you could see the redness on his chest, going up towards his neck.
"And what? No normal hospital can detect these kinds of things, don't you think she will ask questions about where you went, and who your doctor was!?" Your eyes glazed over, your ears were burning, and your stomach was in knots as you didn't step down, as you didn't budge even when he took a threatening step.
"If I tell her to not ask questions, she won't! And she won't tell anyone either—" He scoffed loudly, a shake of his head as he stared at you.
"You can't be this dumb, Peach. She is dating Nancy, and the moment Nancy finds out, she'll come to me, and SHE will be the one asking questions."
You stood there as his words sank in, particularly one. You couldn't believe what he had just called you. What he had just implied. You weren't dumb. You weren't naive. You weren't an idiot. A tear rolled down your cheek as you didn't budge, pressing an index finger to his chest to push him away.
"Easy to say for you! You have your best friend to be next to you as well, why is it wrong for me to want my best friend to know about what goes on with me too!?"
"Because she doesn't need to! She really doesn't fucking need to because you have no appointments to go to, or medicine to take, or anything that changes your life drastically!" His voice was rough, and you could see him glaring at you, the way he did a year back. The Eddie who just stared at you from across the booth of the bar. Who despised you and your every word. But now, this person is your boyfriend. And your boyfriend was hurting you.
"You think it didn't change my life drastically!? Being mutated by fucking lies and tricks!? My body morphing into something only halfway through!? You think it doesn't fucking hurt!? That it doesn't pain me that I'm not one or the other, Munson!?" Your voice was cracking up, the beginning of sobs coming up on your throat.
"What the fuck does that mean!?" And you exploded.
"That I have the body, the organs, the shape of an Omega! That I was mutilated, hurt, stabbed, and probed, making me morph into something that STILL DOESN'T WORK! I went through all that pain, all that suffering, all that shit, for absolutely fucking nothing, because at the end of the day, I HAVE TO GO THROUGH IT AGAIN!"
You were breathing heavily, your tears streaming uncontrollably down your face, and Eddie's fires extinguished. You fell on the floor, your hand on your chest as you sobbed out, feeling your heart crumble inside of you as you kept talking,
"The least— The least they could have done for me, was to mutate me all the way into an Omega… Not halfway… The least they could have done after what they did—"
He immediately dropped to his knees, pulling you into his arms, embracing you. You tried pushing him away, but his hold was tight, his heart racing, his mind in shambles as he tried to gather you all up, to pick up the pieces he helped break. He was now angry at himself for letting his rage talk for him. He got too shaken up, trying to keep this secret for his sake, but also for Wayne's. To give the old man some peace of mind, even in the afterlife.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" He rocked on the ground with you in his arms, your hands grasping at his chest, scratching him. He didn't even wince; he let you hurt him as much as you wanted, because he now knew how much he hurt you. This is what he meant when he asked what you were feeling. Why did you always hold back?
How many times have you exploded, and he had to hold you like this?
He wishes you wouldn't do it this way. Wait till the last second, till your heart cannot hold it back. But this time, it was his fault. He pushed you to this edge. He closed his eyes, concentrating as he moved, and your hands suddenly unclenched. Your body started to feel lighter, the tension on your shoulders leaving you, and warmth was spreading all over your nervous system.
And his scent was stronger. So much stronger. Your heart slowed down, your sobs dimmed, and your breathing began to stabilize at a slow pace. After a minute or two, you sniffled, moving your head to look at him, a frown in your eyebrows. This wasn't the first time this happened. It wasn't the first time that Eddie was the only one who could calm you down.
Even the first time you two had a civil talk, back in that elevator, he calmed you down.
"How…"
"My pheromones… They're not strong because of my suppressants, but good enough if close…" He gulped as he looked into your eyes, his stomach hurting as he looked at your tear-stained cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Peach… I— I'm not used to… Many people know about me, and— Wayne, all of his efforts, I don't want…" He didn't know how to phrase it without sounding like a jerk, or selfish.
"You don't want those efforts to go to waste…" He clenched his eyes, as if pained to admit it. You looked down into his chest, your thoughts just running, not knowing what to think or what to do. But, you remembered what Steve told you the day before… Robin had told him about your feelings for 'Jeff' at that time. She didn't keep that to herself.
You imagine that Nancy doesn't just suspect about you and Eddie… She knows about you and Eddie.
You sighed, nodding slightly as you saw Eddie's point of view. It was going to hurt to lie to her, or well, not tell her about yourself, about this new discovery… But overall, it didn't change anything about who you are, unlike Eddie.
"I… I am so sorry, you are not dumb, I— I didn't mean it…"
"No, I am… I have proof that Robin cannot… keep a secret, at least not from Steve or Nancy…" You sniffled into him, and he kept holding onto you, and that's when you heard it, deep into his chest. Like a whistle, barely there. A whine. He felt bad. Eddie felt bad. Your head moved to look at him, and you saw how his eyebrows were downwards, looking at you with pure regret and anger with himself.
"I'm sorry, Peach… I didn't mean to yell like that—" This wasn't the first time that Eddie yelled at you, hurt you with words, or hurt you without meaning to. Like that time when you threw the beer into his face and almost punched him to death. Or when he snapped at you before you fucked him in his car.
"It's okay… couples fight." You shrugged a bit, trying to dissolve the tension, but you saw him shake his head, leaning to rest his forehead on your shoulder.
"I'm going to try to dim it down, not to lose my temper like that, at least not with you… You don't deserve that…" He whispered, and you felt your heart clench, wrapping your arms around him. In all honesty, this was the first ever fight you had with Eddie since you two started hooking up with one another. After the deal was made. This was the first disagreement.
"Baby, it's okay… But next time you call me dumb, I'll rip your balls off, and feed them to Gareth without him knowing." He finally barked a laugh out, his breath hitting your neck as he moved to press a kiss on the skin. You were sitting on his lap, over his crossed legs, as you held close to him with your arms around his shoulders. You shivered, a smile on your lips as he moved to look into your face again.
"Why Gareth?"
"Because he meddled too much trying to find out if we were together or not these past months." He nodded at that, but then raised an eyebrow at you.
"Well, I mean, we can now tell him… and the others…"
Your heart burst into fireworks as you heard those words coming out of his mouth. Coming out as an official couple to your friends. You couldn't contain the giddiness inside of you, smiling at him, pecking his lips over and over again, making him squeal in surprise as he fell back onto the floor with you on top of him.
You couldn't wait.
You invited everyone over on Tuesday, getting together to drink after work.
Jonathan left others in charge of the bar so he could come over. Everyone had confirmed they were coming, and the good part was that two of your friends already knew about you two. Probably three people knew about you two. The rest, they didn't, and you wondered if they were going to be mad at Eddie and yourself.
You were pacing in the living room, spotless, the frenzy of cleaning getting the best of you the day before, because the possibility of everyone being mad was still there. Eddie, Robin, and Steve watched you like a ping pong match.
"Sweetheart…" Eddie sighed, once again, and you shook your head at him with a glare as you kept pacing.
"Don't tell me to calm down." You said, and Robin talked now, rolling her eyes at you.
"Nancy suspects it—
"Buckley, we know she knows—" Eddie started, with no real bite behind it, but Robin's face heated up, looking at him.
"I didn't tell her! She assumed it because of a story—" You groaned loudly, not wanting to hear a lie in a moment where your nerves are about to eat you out.
"Robin, not now—" You suddenly stopped on your tracks, slowly turning to face Steve. He frowned, looking at Eddie and back at you when he realized you were, in fact, looking at him.
"What?"
"Did you tell Jonathan?" His eyes widened, and he shook his head, while Eddie's snapped at his best friend. He hadn't thought about it. He knew Steve would never tell Jonathan about what Eddie is, but he didn't know about his relationship with you.
"N-No! I didn't! I— He has a hunch, I am not going to lie, because he asked me if I truly believed that it was Jeff and not Eddie, but I told him he was crazy!" You remembered Jonathan telling you he was sorry for how things ended with Jeff, but he didn't really question your lack of emotion at that time, if not a little bit. As if making sure of something, and— Oh fuck. You were too dismissive.
"Shit, he might know." Eddie's eyes widened at your words, and his head snapped to look at you.
"What!?"
The doorbell rang, and you moved quickly to get it, smiling as you saw the rest of the gang there. Nancy had a knowing smile on her face as she hugged you.
When you first saw Robin today, you hugged her for a long time, and even if Robin asked what was wrong, you didn't tell her. You didn't tell her anything at all. Just that you wanted a hug, and you were a little tired of those being just from Eddie. That you wanted some from your best friend too. She didn't question it, and hugged back. You then dismissed it by saying you miss your mom… Who you still had to introduce Eddie to.
You greeted everyone else, and you all sat around the coffee table where Eddie had helped settle some snacks down and glasses. The drinks were brought in by Robin and Steve. Not much alcohol, since it was a work night, but two wine bottles were on the table.
Some sat on the couch, then on the single couch, and then on the resting pillows you had on the floor. Eddie sat next to you there, his eyes never leaving yours as the rest chattered loudly, getting the glasses ready to drink.
"I really needed some wine after the day I had." Nancy sputtered as she took a long sip, settling on the couch next to Robin. Next to her was Jonathan, and on the single chair was Steve, while Eden and Argyle sat next to you and Eddie on the floor.
"Why? Your boss being a prick again?" Jonathan asked, pouring Steve a glass of wine. You were fidgeting with your fingers as your heart thrummed in your chest, and Eddie wanted to hold you so badly, but he wanted to say out loud at least that he was dating you. Proudly.
"More than a prick. Wants me to redo my entire paper, saying, 'it's missing spice.'" She groaned with a grimace of disgust as Robin put an arm around her shoulders on the backrest of the couch.
"Spice, huh? You give me that paper, you'll see how I'll spice it up for ya in a second." Argyle said with a wink, and Eden laughed, her head leaning over her boyfriend's shoulder. You felt your hands sweating as you looked at your friends talking around you, feeling as if the weight of the world was on your shoulders right now. Why couldn't you just be straightforward with it?
"Um, guys…" Your voice was a little small to your liking, of your usual self, but their voices were louder, so you tried again, "Guys?"
They weren't listening, but you were also not making your best effort, and Eddie was losing his patience. He wanted them to know about you two being together. He wanted them to know you were his girlfriend. That you were his. He wanted this secrecy to be over.
But your friends were making it a little hard to do so because they were arguing with one another. Something about Robin leaving a mess in the house, but because Steve left a mess before, but because Robin did so before that, and then it turned to Jonathan being disgusted, and Eddie didn't want you to fidget around anymore.
So he grabbed your face and turned it to plant a deep kiss on your lips.
Your eyes were wide, and the voices were gone in a second. No sounds. Not even a fly batting its wings could be heard. Your heart was in your throat, and your ears were burning because of the sudden action. This wasn't how you pictured it but—
Eddie pulled away, immediately putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you towards him. You squealed as you held yourself against his chest, afraid of looking at your friends. Your eyes were stuck to the floor, as Eddie spoke.
"We're together. Have been for a while, but we made it official a week ago." You finally looked up to see everyone staring, Robin and Steve wincing as they looked at the others' reactions. The first one you noticed was Nancy, who was slightly wide-eyed, but the corner of her lips was twitching upwards. Eddie swallowed as he looked at her, and he noticed the different emotions everyone had, but they were overlapping one another, and he couldn't make out which was which.
Suddenly, Jonathan barked out a laugh.
"I KNEW IT! You mother fucker, I knew it AND YOU GASLIGHTED ME!" He was looking at Steve, with a smile on his face, jabbing his index finger into Steve's chest. Steve moved away, wincing as he frowned.
"Okay, I dismissed it the first time because I ACTUALLY DIDN'T KNOW! I really did think it was Jeff—"
"But then I kept telling you that I KNEW it was Eddie! And you kept saying it wasn't, that I was crazy, and you never call me that, so—" He smirked, and Steve sighed heavily, dipping his face in his hands. You and Eddie were stunned as you stared at the exchange, mouth wide open. Then Nancy cleared her throat.
"I just knew it. The thirsty Instagram stories stopped at the same time, and also— I saw Eddie's following count go down as well as hers." She took a sip of her glass, and you and your boyfriend turned your heads at the same time, shock still written in your faces. Nancy, the reporter. There's a reason why she is in the paper. But by Robin's twitch of body, you knew that wasn't all there was, because all reporters had insiders.
"Finally, Eden and I always knew you two were together." Everyone's heads turned to look at Argyle now, who had a smile as Eden smirked, her eyebrows moving up and down. Nancy chuckled, shaking her head.
"Impossible."
"No, not impossible," Eden spoke, taking a chip into her mouth as she ate slowly. "We saw them making out at the club, like months ago, when all of you left. Argyle and I were just hooking up then."
Eddie and you stared at the couple, because that meant they saw you both on the dance floor, making out, drunk on each other for the first time ever. You shook your head, scoffing.
"That doesn't mean anything! We could have just kissed!" You exclaimed, and Argyle chuckled, looking at you with a smile on his face.
"Nope, because I leave the van we deliver pizzas to Jeff, and he told me he had met a nice girl at a cafe. So when you said you slept with him, and Eddie boy here had a funny look on his face, I knew the charade from a mile away, brochacha."
Silence.
Pure absolute silence.
The only thing that was heard was Eden eating chips with a victorious smile on her lips, and Argyle taking a sip of his soda. Argyle and Eden knew from the beginning, Jonathan knew you were lying, Steve and Robin ran into both of you, and Nancy found out through Instagram, or so she says. So, everyone knew.
"We hid for NOTHING!?" You finally yelled, and Eddie fell back in laughter, his hands on his face, and you turned sharply, pinching his side as he cackled even louder. Suddenly, your living room was filled with laughs, giggles, and smiles, and you realized you were afraid for nothing as well.
"We had bets with Eden on when you two would come out as official, and guess what, I won!" Argyle cheered as he looked at his girlfriend, who only rolled her eyes at him.
"Only for a few months." She replied, "And it's not like the prize was something uncommon, I'll suck your dick when we get home."
Chants of disgust and 'woos' came out from all of your mouths, and Eddie sat back up as he whistled, his arm coming to wrap around your waist. The conversation then flowed, now them going about how they had suspicions, and what gave you and Eddie away. You smiled, turning your head to see him looking at you, a grin on his lips.
"Well, that's out of the way now." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you sighed happily into it, already paying no mind to the rest of the group.
"And to think I wanted to rip your guts out a year ago." He gasped, squeezing you a little tighter to him.
"You wound me, Peach." You scoffed, eyes growing wide as you showed indignation.
"You literally had it out for me too, Munson!" He rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to your cheek, which made you puff your cheeks at him. Unbeknownst to you, all your friends were looking at you now, as if amazed. You turned your head, face burning at the attention
"What?"
"It is amazing that it actually doesn't feel weird," Jonathan spoke, and you felt a certain warmth in your chest. You felt proud, a little happy that your friends actually liked you and Eddie being together, and that it actually felt right, as if destined.
And Eddie felt the exact same, and he was exhilarated that you were proud of the two of you. That you were happy to show him off, flaunt him, tell the world you were his and he was yours. He could smell how your scent became sweeter, yet with spice. He could now walk around holding your hand, your waist, his arm around your shoulders, and kiss you if he felt like it, and not behind closed doors. Not behind a wall, or sneaking before anyone sees the two of you.
The night went on, questions being asked about who confessed to whom, and when exactly it all started. At the end of the night, when everyone was gone, and only Steve, Eddie, and Robin remained to help you clean, you stood outside your balcony as you looked up, having a smoke. Robin came out and stood next to you, a smile on her face.
"So, how does it feel to not have to hide anymore?" She asked, and you smiled, shaking your head as if you couldn't believe that it happened.
"Amazing." You exclaimed, and then you looked at her, your eyes meeting one another's. Your heart ached a little bit, not wanting to believe it, but you knew it had happened. "You told Nancy, didn't you?"
Robin's smile faded instantly, and she stuttered as she looked away from you, towards the distance, "No, I— I'm—"
You could feel your heart plummeting, your stomach churning as you saw right through her. You sighed, turning towards her.
"Robin…" You insisted, and you could see the tears forming in Robin's eyes, shaking her head and looking down. Shamefully so.
"I'm sorry… I just… She is my girlfriend, and— She already had suspicions, and I couldn't lie to her…" You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in, feeling your eyes burning as you felt the stab of betrayal deep in your chest.
"I am your best friend. First and foremost."
"I'm so sorry…" You looked up, sighing as you shook your head. Eddie's eyes followed you from inside the house, eyebrows furrowing in the middle as he felt both scents souring, an earthy touch to them. Sadness.
"It's okay… It's done…" Robin wasn't happy with your response, grabbing both of your hands to make you look at her.
"I know it's not okay… I know it isn't, and I am sorry for it… I swear I never tell her anything about us, but— This was eating me inside, and much more when she felt sad that Eddie could have been hiding something big from her…"
And you knew, you couldn't tell Robin about what was going on with you. Not now. Not ever.
Because you might also give Eddie away.
Your hands moved as you washed your dishes, hearing Eddie cleaning up the table and putting stuff in the trash. You could feel the heaviness in your heart still, making you feel slightly anxious, as if you couldn't hold yourself up.
You weren't exactly mad at Robin, but it hurt. It still hurt. But at the same time, you did hide something from her too. You didn't want to think negatively of Robin, much less of Nancy. You didn't think that Nancy urged Robin, but you didn't know what happened behind the curtains. Maybe Nancy acted pissed off, and Robin couldn't hold it in, but still—
"I'm sure you washed that plate enough, Peach."
You gasped, noticing you were rubbing onto the same plate, the last one, for more than a minute. You didn't realize, too lost in your thoughts. Too lost in your heavy heart.
"I— Yeah…" You rinsed off the plate, putting it inside the dishwasher, closing it afterwards. You dried your hands on the kitchen cloth, and then you felt Eddie's hand on your shoulder, soft, warm.
"I'm sorry about Robin…"
"No, you were right. I didn't want to believe it until the last minute, but… yeah." He winced at the tone of your voice, and he wrapped himself around you from behind, his lips pressing onto your shoulder. You sighed as you relaxed into his arms, throwing your head back onto him. Your hands came to grab his at your middle as he started rocking the two of you, slowly.
"You are allowed to hurt from it, sweetheart. I would have felt like this too, if Steve had told Jonathan." You nodded a bit, rubbing your thumbs against the back of his hands.
"I just… I know she holds tons of other secrets, but this was a big one… I don't— How can I confide in her what is going on with myself?" Eddie frowned a bit, pressing a kiss to your neck softly, not in a sexual way, but a reassuring one.
"I hope that one day everything eases up and you can tell her… I wish I could tell everyone else too."
"You do?" You turned your head to face him, and he sighed, nodding.
"Yeah… They're my friends too, Nancy especially. I would like to let them know why my emotions sometimes are erratic, or why I snap so hard when I fight, or why I can sense things that they don't… Wish I could tell them how rough sometimes it is…" You heard the distant tone in his voice, making your heart turn into itself. You turned around in his arms, holding his face in your hands, cradling it like a treasure.
"I know I'm not everyone… But I hope I'm enough to help you through those rough times, Eddie…" His eyes were staring into yours, and he felt his chest ablaze. His nose suddenly dove in, desperately, into your neck. His arms tightened around you, pushing you into him. Your eyes were a bit wide in surprise, not understanding the sudden change of pace.
Then you felt him rubbing his nose onto your neck, your shoulder, then his neck against yours, and this was something new. Or not entirely. You have felt him rub himself like a cat on you when he kissed your arms or your legs. This time, it wasn't discreet, and you wondered what he was doing. You stuttered a bit, feeling his stubble tickling you, a soft giggle, and the goosebumps that rose up on your skin, making you jump a bit. He chuckled, pulling away.
"Sorry." You were looking up at him, your head tilted.
"What was that?" You asked, and he licked his lips, his cheeks turning rosy as he looked for the words to say.
"I scented you… I rubbed my scent glands against your skin, even if they are not strong, thanks to the suppressants. I want my scent to stick to you so… Everyone knows you are mine."
You shivered at his words, feeling an overwhelming sensation that you couldn't quite describe. Elation. Pride. Happiness. Excitement. Arousal. It all just blended together.
"I— You can stick your scent to me?"
"It's kind of useless since there are no other Alphas, and also because Betas cannot really identify it nowadays. They would think you are just wearing my cologne." You were stunned, not really knowing what to say as he stared into your eyes. You wished you could reciprocate. You wished you could do the exact same. Mark him as yours.
"You must like me a lot, Munson." The joke was small, and there was something in the air, something that was hanging by a thread. He didn't reply, he didn't laugh, he didn't joke back. Your heart raced, your body was reacting to him, pushing yourself deeper into his embrace.
And then, your alarm went off.
Eddie groaned loudly, pulling away, his hands still on your hips as he looked at your phone on the counter. He reached over and tapped the dismiss button. You giggled, putting your hand on his cheek to turn him to look at you again. You got on your tiptoes, pecking him softly on the lips.
"I told you I would keep you in check with your medicine, Munson." He rolled his eyes, pulling away from you to go towards his bag on the couch. He grabbed the little first aid kit box out of it, ready to head to the bathroom. You were biting your lip as you took a step forward, making him glance at you. "Can I… do it?"
"Huh?" He seemed shocked to hear you say that. You licked your lips as you felt nervous all of a sudden, looking down at the floor, as if your feet were that interesting.
"I just… What if you break your hand one day and you need help?" You heard him chuckle, trying to hide how excited he was, how happy he felt.
"I have the other hand."
"… What if you break both hands?"
Silence for a second, because Eddie didn't know how he had gotten so lucky with you. He didn't know if he had ever done a good deed in his life, and he had been blessed with you or something, because the only one who knew how to administer his medication other than him was Wayne. Now, you were asking out of your own accord, out of your own free will, to learn how to help him with his medication.
"Point made, Peach." Your head looked up to see him going towards the couch again, sitting down, and putting the small box on the coffee table. You strutted towards him as he opened it. You blinked down at it, bending over to take a closer peek.
"Wow…" Eddie hummed, grabbing the vial you always saw, the one that had some purple hue to it. He put it on the table, then took out the sterilized needles and syringes, wrapped in plastic. Then you saw some cotton pads and a small bottle of alcohol.
"Well, clean the area, then out of the vial you will want to fill it up to…" He grabbed a syringe, took it out of the plastic bag, and pointed at the line. ", 1,2 ml. Then just add the needle, and off you go."
You were nervous, and he made it sound so easy. Well, it was because for him it was. He had been doing this for years now. He took off his shirt, making you raise an eyebrow at him. He smiled innocently, turning his head to the side, baring his mating gland your way.
You didn't know this, but Eddie was about to self implode. Baring himself this way towards someone was a big deal. It was one of the most vulnerable things an Alpha, and much more an Omega, could do. He wished he could tell you, but he didn't want to rush anything. The idea of scaring you away was too great. He was surprised you were still here, willing to experience this with him.
"Okay, yeah, I can do it… Just… anywhere?" You motioned all over his shoulder, and he pointed close to his neck, and then a little more than half of his shoulder.
"Where the tattoo covers, you can do it." He explained, and you nodded, grabbing the bottle of alcohol and squirting a bit on your hands to sanitize them. Then, a cotton pad, drenched with more alcohol, and you stood in front of your boyfriend. You wiped the area clean, making sure to sterilize it good. God, if you cause him an infection, you were going to throw yourself off a bridge.
You bit your lip as you turned to grab a needle, popping it open, before grabbing the syringe and screwing it all on. Then you grabbed the vial, taking a deep breath as you followed what you once saw in a TV show, tilting the little bottle, and then pinching the syringe into it. Eddie whistled, smirking.
"The little pro." You giggled, shaking your head, the nerves easing up a bit. "Make sure to flick it a bit to let the bubbles out."
You did as told once you put the vial back in the box. You looked at his shoulder, biting your bottom lip as you bent towards him a bit, pointing the needle to a particular part. You never injected someone before, never had to do this yourself, but for Eddie, you wanted to learn. You needed to learn. And so you pushed the needle into his skin. He groaned in pain, making you wince.
"Too much?" You asked with worry, and he nodded a bit, smiling a little forced. You kept pressing the pump down, the liquid flowing down into him until it was empty. You pulled out the needle, then pressed the cotton pad on his shoulder again. He straightened up, now replacing your hand with his. There was a small compartment in the box that said 'used. You opened it to put the used needle in it, and you could throw the syringe away later.
"It's okay, next time, less than half of the needle is fine." You gasped, turning around to face him with your hands on your mouth, not having realized you hurt him like that.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry, Eddie, I—" He threw the cotton pad on the table, his hands shooting out to grab at your forearms, pulling you down on the couch with him. He could see your bottom lip trembling a bit, pouting, and he thought he was a little bit of a sadist for thinking you looked gorgeous like this.
"I didn't specify how much of the needle to use. That was on me." You were still frowning, unsure. He pulled your hands up, kissing your knuckles softly. "Thank you. You'll get the hang of it."
Warmth filled your body as you looked at him, both of you sitting sideways to look at each other. Your eyes drifted to his mating gland. 'You'll get the hang of it.' Meaning that this was going forward for more. This companionship between the two of you. This relationship. He wants you to be in it for the long run, just like you had decided to do so.
"Does it make you… dizzy? Or sleepy?" He hummed a bit at the question, only for him to shake his head a second later.
"No. It did in the past, now it just makes the area a little warm, and that's it." You nodded, and his hand lifted up to rub your cheek gently, and you aimed to bite it, making him laugh. "Don't bite me."
"You're biteable." You replied, and his eyes didn't leave yours for a few seconds, his smile dropping slightly. "What?"
"This… Remember how I said… I was close to my rut?"
Your entire body froze over. You hadn't really forgotten, but after everything and Eddie not showing any signs of something different going on, it had slipped your mind. You nodded once, and he sighed, his hand coming to grab yours again.
"What about it…?"
"I'm close. I can feel it. It's going to happen next week, or the one after that one." You nodded again, taking a deep breath in so that you could swallow the information in. Eddie was nervous, looking at you to watch your every reaction, every move, every twitch on your eyebrows.
"Okay… I'll be here." He frowned, taking a deep breath in.
"I don't want you to feel pressured to do it…"
"I mean, it's— It's not going to be different than when we have sex… is it?" You asked, and that's when you saw his eyes squint a bit, looking away. Your heart hammered in your chest, not really understanding what could be different.
"My suppressants make my… urges less frantic. Less feral. That day when I missed my medication… I was close to my rut, and without it, it was starting to hit me." His eyes then went back to yours, his expression a serious one. "I would have hurt you, sweetheart."
You scoffed, shaking your head,
"No, you wouldn't—"
"I don't even know how I am in a rut without suppressants, and by how I wanted to devour you that day, how I wanted to take you… I know it would be intense, rough… and not to mention, my knot."
Your hair stood on edge at the mention of that. You gulped tightly, shaking your head, trying to force a smile out of you, trying to calm him down.
"My body is that of an Omega's, I'm sure I could—"
"No. You can take an Alpha's length… Not the width. I would have hurt you, baby. I would have. I would have bruised you, manhandled you, and probably even…" He didn't dare to say the rest, wincing as he looked away. He didn't need to say it. You could imagine that the word 'no' would not be in his vocabulary in a moment like that.
"Okay… Okay…" You licked your lips, rubbing your fingers against his palms because you could feel his nervousness by the way he slightly trembled. He took a sharp intake of breath, looking back at you.
"But on my suppressants, I am… normal. I have headaches, body aches, and sometimes nausea if I don't… satisfy myself. Doing it alone won't make the entirety of the effects go away, so… being with someone helps." He looked for your eyes, and you were listening to him, without missing a beat.
"I will be here, I will help you through it, baby… I will." You replied, and he huffed from relief, a smile on his lips before it went down again.
"Murray told me… It might be different than my other times, more… intense." He expressed, puzzled with his own words because he didn't know what it exactly meant. But you didn't seem phased by it, your eyes sparkling with worry, with care.
"No matter what, I'll help you." You continued, and fuck, he was done for. He couldn't believe the sight of you. An angel. A guardian. Couldn't believe how attentive you were, your eyes never diverting from him, not an ounce of fear or discomfort.
"It might be rough… I'm not going to lose myself in it, at least that's what Murray assured me of." You tilted your head in question, wondering when he had talked with the crazy doctor. Then you remembered, when you were having your conversation with Steve, Murray had called Eddie back inside.
"And… how do we know when it starts? Like, can you feel it days prior or…" You started asking, and he moved his head sideways in a 'so-so' motion.
"It feels like a fever. Sometimes I don't even notice it until it hits me."
"Okay… So, when that happens, what should I be prepared for?" He chuckled a bit, a smirk slowly showing on his lips.
"Well, prepared to take me, I guess." You rolled your eyes at his words, trying not to show how much the thought of it actually excited you. You heard him choke out a laugh, and you slapped his shoulder, knowing he noticed it.
"I'm serious!"
"Okay! Okay… uh… Nothing, really? Like I said, I do not lose myself while in rut thanks to my medicine. I can move freely, unlike the Alphas from the past." Your eyebrows met in the middle, now curious for more information.
"So in the past, Omegas would just… help Alphas through their ruts?" He shivered at the mention, clearing his throat.
"Yes, and Alphas would help Omegas on their heats. While an Alpha goes into frenzy to breed, the Omega would go into this… hypnotized state. All they could think about was getting knotted." You nodded at that, suddenly feeling a little bit weird. As if your chest was heavy.
"And… What if an Omega was… defenseless, getting hit by their heat without a mate? How did they manage it?" Eddie winced, looking down at your joined hands.
"It was complicated. Most of the time, it was Omegas that were taken advantage of; that part of the story you knew. The Omegas would lose their minds if they went through repeated heats without a mate or knot; they would just let anything happen to them."
Your stomach turned, and nausea washed over you. You had read history, you had learned this at school, but now hearing it from someone who has one of those designations that should be extinct, was telling you just how bad it was… It made you angry. Used, just like people used you.
"That's disgusting."
"It was." He didn't go against your words. He fully believed it. Before his presentation, he cared shit for the past of the secondary genders, but after it, he couldn't help but feel horrible with himself. Alphas that claimed to be kings, gods, these heroes that should step over everything and everyone. Take everything and give nothing.
You noticed the twitch in his eye, that glint of red, of rage. You put your index finger under his chin, making him look up at you again. You gave him a small smile, your thumb rubbing against his skin.
"But not all Alphas were bad…" He felt his eyes burn slightly, a rumble vibrating in his chest, his entire body feeling like it was going to be consumed, and then— His teeth. They tingled, or vibrated. His eyes averted towards your shoulder for a second.
Mine.
What was that?
"You really are something else, Peach." You smiled at him, putting your hand down. You felt something rushing down your spine, something about the way he was looking at you, making you feel… special, or weird, or… It was something you never felt before. Like a connection of some kind. Maybe it was your imagination from finding out what he is, maybe it was just the situation.
But it felt good. It felt warm. It felt right.
"So… A week from now?" You asked again, and he nodded a bit.
"Yes, or two… But I need to be in my house when it happens. I cannot be anywhere else. I will become erratic or furious until I reach my home." You understood. He had to be in his den, in his safe space, because he would be in a vulnerable state.
"Alright… I'll help. It's not like we don't do rough, Munson." He rolled his eyes, suddenly tackling you down into the couch to tickle your sides. Your laughter was vibrating in his ears, and he felt his heart thumping all over his body.
Take.
He froze for a second. It was as if another voice had said it. Just like before. He was brought back to reality when you pecked his lips, and a smile spread from cheek to cheek. He paid it no mind. Not when you were like this underneath him. Not when you were like this under his weight. Not when you were like this, holding him, choosing him, just like he was choosing you.
A Flashback fic to accompany The Stars Incline Us, They Do Not Bind Us
𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦:
We're told from a young age that they are supposed to be our perfect person but what if the "perfect person" doesn't actually exist? What if I'm just wasting my time? What if he's not who I've always hoped he'd be? What if I'm not who he hoped I'd be? What if the colors aren’t enough? What if I’m not enough? What if the universe isn’t strong enough to make someone love me, or to make me love someone?
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Argyle, Carol Perkins, Original Characters
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Soulmate au (no one sees color until they meet their soulmate), modern au, angst, hurt/no comfort, some fluff, Chrissy centric, hopeless romantic Chrissy Cunningham, Rockstar!Eddie Munson, epistolary fic (written as journal entries), past Jason x Chrissy, misogyny (from a boss), self loathing, minor Chrissy x Eddie, hopeful ending?
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.3k
A/N: just to clarify, this SPECIFIC FIC has some hellcheer (although it mostly centers around Chrissy) but the series it accompanies is a reader insert. This will make more sense if you’ve read the main series. The unnamed best friend in this is the reader from TSIU.
Dear Dairy,
I went on a date with this guy tonight. His name was Neil and to be honest with you he was kind of boring. Not to mention there wasn't really a spark and there was certainly not any colors. So he's not my soulmate. Oh well.
I get that it's supposed to be rare, to only happen to a lucky few, but I can't help but yearn for that type of connection. I want the kind of love I see my friends Nancy and Robin have. I'm not so sure I'll ever have it though.
Dating was so much easier as a teen. You're too young to find your soulmate then. There's no pressure to meet the love of your life. It was more like practice for when you do. Not that I want to be a teenager again, god no. I'm very happy being an adult woman living far away from my mother thank you very much! I just wish it could feel like it did as a teen again. Without all the expectations.
Anyways, back to the date. Like I said Neil was a little boring. He kept talking about his job (he works in finance I guess) and nothing else. No other hobbies or interests! I still wanted to hold out hope that maybe he was just nervous or something. But when he dropped me off at my apartment he kissed me and it wasn't great. I won't get into the gorey details but let's just say it was a little too tongue-y for my taste.
He said he would call but I hope he doesn't. Is that bad? I just told him that I had a great night and we should do it again sometime.
My best friend says I should have just told him the truth about how I felt but I didn't want to hurt the guys feelings. Maybe she was right. I've never been very good at letting a guy down. I mean I dated Jason for three whole years when I didn't even really like him because I was too worried about hurting him.
I did everything Jason wanted to do. I was the perfect, doting, girlfriend and he still found ways to make me feel small. I'm not even sure he did it on purpose. I think he just took so much space for himself in his own mind there wasn't much room for anyone else. I let him take up the first three years of high school when I could have been dating a guy I actually liked!! I only even broke up with him because my best friend convinced me to our senior year. She says I'm too much of a people pleaser.
My mom always said that guys only liked "good girls" and that to be a "good girl" I had to do what they wanted and keep them happy. But what about my happiness? Maybe that's why I haven't found my soulmate yet, because I keep dating guys I know aren't it to avoid being "bad" by calling it off with them. Maybe I just need to finally do what I want.
I don't know. It's getting late and I have an early meeting tomorrow that I have to sit in and take notes for my asshole boss. So until next time diary. Goodnight! ♡
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
At work today I made a huge mistake. My boss Mr. Hadley had an important meeting with a shareholder, but also had a meeting with his wives and his divorce attorneys. I scheduled them both at the same time so he missed the meeting with the attorneys. I don't even know how that happened. I must have been distracted but I've never done something like this before.
He berated me in front of the whole office, he called me a "stupid bimbo" and said that if my "brain was as big as my tits" I could actually do my job.
I hate him. I hate him so much. I hope he loses everything in his stupid divorce, I hope his wife gets everything!!! (She was always so nice to me) I hope he crashes his stupid sports car and dies. Actually, I hope he goes out cartoon style slipping on a banana because he doesn't deserve a dignified death he deserves to be ridiculed like he's always ridiculing others. I hate him so much. I hope he never finds happiness, I hope he never sees the colors.
After he yelled at me I cried in the bathroom for like 20 minutes. None of my coworkers checked on me or asked if I was okay, they wouldn't dare. They're too scared of making the boss mad by doing "sissy shit" (his words not mine) like HAVING EMPATHY.
I want to quit so bad but I need the money. If I stop working we can't afford our apartment. I don't know what to do.
I told my best friend what he did today and she suggested we sic Nancy on him (she has a mean right hook, I've seen it). I'm starting to think it's a great idea.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
Step one to finally just doing what I want: I'm done dating guys who aren't even worth it. I need to just focus on finding my soulmate. He will not be a liar, or a cheat, or boring, or mean, or arrogant. He will be kind, he will be honest, he will be passionate, and most importantly he'll care about me and what I think and have to say.
Neil finally called and I told him the truth. I told him it wasn't going to work out. He didn't take that very well, to say the least. I must have big print on my forehead that says "WILLING TO DATE ASSHOLES" because that seems to be all I attract. Well I'm done with that. My soulmate will not be an asshole, he can't be. He'll be perfect. He won't ever judge what I wear, or what I eat, or what I like. He'll just love me. Exactly as I am.
I found this app/dating service called Soul Seekers. Apparently they use Soulmate Guru's to help you find yours. I'm thinking about signing up for it. I'm desperate here.
I just want to be in love. I see how Robin and Nancy are together and it makes my chest ache. I want that. I want that more than I can bare.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
Step two to living life how I want: I quit my job. I didn't even plan it. I was just done with my bosses shit and I quit on the spot. He made some misogynistic joke, I don't even remember it now because I was just so angry.
As soon as I was home I cried. I don't know what I'm going to do now, but I can't go back there. It was miserable. I was so sure my best friend would be mad at me but she just held me and told me we'd figure it out. I don't what I'd do without her. She's my person. She's so much braver than me. I mean she's following her dreams of being an artist while I was stuck at a shitty job for years and now I'm unemployed.
I have to believe things will turn out though. I'll find something else!!! And if we have to move, we'll move. Worse comes to worst and Jonathan said we can have his spare bedroom until we find our own place again. It's not like we haven't shared a room before, it'll be like college again!
Everything's gonna be okay. It has to be. My best friend always says as long as we have each other there's no burden we can't bare.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
Still no luck on the job or soulmate hunt so far. Feels weird to refer to it as a "hunt" for a soulmate. And a job honestly even though it does kind of feel like a hunt on that front. I just can't seem to get anything. I feel like a horrible friend. My best keeps trying to tell me that it's okay, that we'll figure it out but I don't want to be her burden.
Moral of the story I guess is you shouldn't get a degree in sociology.
Jonathan says there may be an opening at the magazine he works for. Apparently the Fashion Editor is looking for an assistant and he put my name in because "you know about that stuff." He's been working there for two years now and it's still funny to me to think about Jonathan Byers of all people working at a fashion and beauty magazine. He practically wears the same t-shirt everyday! But he's good with a camera so I guess it's not that crazy.
Even Argyle offered to let me work at his shop but I don't know anything about weed so I don't think that's a good idea. I may have a little every now and then with my friends but I wouldn't possibly know how to help someone find what they're looking for. It was nice enough of him to offer though. Plus I wouldn't mind having Argyle as my boss. He's the nicest guy I know (other than Jonny).
Hopefully the job at the magazine works out. It kind of sounds like a dream job honestly. Working at a fashion magazine sounds GLAMOROUS! I could be like Andy in The Devil Wears Prada. It might also be fun to work with Jonny! We could have lunch every day together!
I'll just have to cross my fingers.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Dairy,
An amazing update to the job front!!!! Best friend and I went on a little girls day out and visited some art galleries (she's going to be in one of them someday, I just know it) and I ran into my old bosses ex wife. It was fate I swear!!! I'm not sure I believe in coincidences anyway. I told her I didn't work for her ex anymore and she offered me a job!!! At first I thought it was another assistant job but no!!! She wants me to be an event planner!!! She said I did such a good job "helping" her ex-husband plan her birthday last year (we both know he didn't do shit) that she thinks I'll be great at it!!
Things are definitely starting to look up.
Still no luck on the soulmate front. But I'm not giving up hope. I signed up for Soul Seekers. No luck with that yet. My Guru says these things take time. I've been trying to get my best friend to sign up too. She's not really interested in finding her fated person AT ALL. I don't understand why. It's not like she's not interested in love, she goes on dates. She just "doesn't want to waste her time on something that'll never happen". I know it will for her though. I have this feeling that she's one of the lucky few. I can't explain why, but it makes sense. She's one of the best people I know. If anyone deserves the kind of happily ever after they talk about in fairy tales, it's her. I wish I had this feeling for myself.
I've been trying a lot of things hoping something will give way. There's a nightly ritual I found online that's supposed to help you dream of your soulmate. So far the only recurring dream I've been having is showing up to work naked because I forgot to get dressed that morning. Which doesn't really make sense because it's not like I sleep in the nude. It would make sense if I showed up to work in my pj's though.
I digress. Robin keeps telling me that I'm worrying about it too much and I know she's right. I just need to remember to be patient, it'll happen when it happens!
I just hope it happens soon. It's so hard finding your soulmate on your own. For all I know they could be across the world!! If they are I hope they're from somewhere interesting like Paris or Amsterdam.
Until next time diary! ♡
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
Sometimes I get so scared that by putting all my time and effort into finding my soulmate that I could be missing out on something greater. Is there anything greater than a soulmate?
We're told from a young age that they are supposed to be our perfect person but what if the "perfect person" doesn't actually exist? What if I'm just wasting my time? What if he's not who I've always hoped he'd be? What if I'm not who he hoped I'd be? What if the colors aren’t enough? What if I’m not enough? What if the universe isn’t strong enough to make someone love me, or to make me love someone?
I don't think I've ever actually been in love. I've dated plenty of guys, even liked a few of them. But I don't know what it feels like to be in love. I know what people say it feels like. All fireworks and butterflies and symphonies. They make it sound so amazing. I hope I have a love that bursts like that. It makes sense that love is something that can't be contained. I hope one day someone loves me so much they can't help but shout it from the rooftops.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
It's been awhile, I know. As you know I've started working with my old bosses ex-wife, Ms. Katz. I love my job now. I mean I get to plan parties for a LIVING!!! How amazing is that? Plus Ms. Katz is an amazing boss, the nicest one I've ever had. She actually CARES about her employees. When I made a mistake with the caterers for a corporate event she didn't scream at me. She told me to not let it happen again and to fix it. That was it! I've been working for her for a month and I haven't had to cry in the bathroom ONCE.
The one downside is this co-worker I have, Carol. She's so confusing I can't tell if she likes me or not. She's always giving me these backhanded compliments but then she invites me to go to lunch with her??? And today I overheard her defending me and saying nice things about me to another coworker. But then later she was mean to me again?? I don't understand this woman.
Is it bad that I want her to like me? We don't have to be friends or anything it's just that she's so good at her job. I'm kind of hoping she takes me under her wing.
For the first time in forever I'm actually excited to go to work tomorrow!!!
Goodnight diary! ♡
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
Remember when I told you I was doing a nightly ritual to try and dream of my soulmate? Well I think I finally did! I couldn't see his face, it was a blur. But I felt him and it felt exactly like people always say it's supposed to feel like. Like a familiar warmth, like I've always known him, like I will always know him. Looking at him made me feel as though I might burst from it. Like I was the fireworks, or a cacophonous symphony, or a trapped butterfly. It was just like everything I'd hoped for.
It gave me hope that this isn't a waste of my time. I just have to trust the universe. It'll happen when it happens, and when it does it will be everything I dreamed of. He will be everything I dreamed of.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
My aunt invited me to visit her in Miami! I'll be staying with her for a week. I asked my BFF to come with me but she said she had too many commissions to catch up on. ☹
I'll still have fun though. I haven't been to Miami since I was a kid. I'm excited to see my cousins!! I'm going to spend every day on the beach soaking up the sun. Who knows, maybe I'll meet the one.
Miami isn't as interesting as Amsterdam, but it's better than being from some small town in the middle of nowhere.
My guru says she has a feeling about this trip, but she wouldn't say if it was a good or bad feeling. Which is so annoying!!!! If she's so knowledgeable about soulmates then why can't she just tell me exactly when I'm going to meet him???
I don't know maybe I should just focus on spending time with my aunt and cousins. I'll put the soulmate search on hold for this trip.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
I made it to Miami!! I've only been here for an hour and my cousins are already conspiring to take me out partying tonight haha!
They say they know this great place where they always meet the hottest guys but unless one of those guys turns out to be my soulmate I'm not really interested in meeting anyone. I'll still go with them of course, a night out sounds like a lot of fun and Miami has a GREAT nightlife scene.
I wonder if my soulmate will be more of a homebody or someone who likes to go out. I think I'd be okay with either. Honestly at this point he could be a complete hermit as long as he's not an asshole.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
My soulmate is a guy named Eddie. He has big brown eyes and long curly brown hair. He's a musician, the leader singer of a metal band and he's on tour right now. He's from a small town in Indiana called Hawkins but he lives in Chicago. HE LIVES IN CHICAGO!!!! HE LIVES WHERE I LIVE!!!! We could have met at any point. Funny how fate works. He's so funny and sweet and charming and handsome! He's a little nerdy too, but I think it's sweet. He's perfect.
We met at that bar my cousins took me to. Everything about the bar was great, the drinks, the music, HIM. They had ditched me to dance with some guys and on my way to the bathroom we ran into each other. LITERALLY. He spilled his drink on my new dress but I DON'T EVEN CARE!!!! It's just a dress. It was worth it to see his eyes. They're so brown.
The bar had a rooftop that we went up to where we stared up at the stars and talked all night, it was amazing. We're pretty different but you know what they say, opposites attract! Oh and the colors? They're so beautiful. The world is just so…vibrant!
We have plans to see each other tomorrow too. I can't wait!!! Tomorrow I'm going to kiss him. God I feel like a teenager with a crush again. I bet he's a great kisser, his lips are so nice.
When I finally met up with my cousins again I didn't tell them what happened. They really don't care about this soulmate stuff, they probably would have just teased me for not even kissing the guy. Plus I kinda like having him all to myself right now.
Until tomorrow diary!!! ♡♡♡
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
Eddie and I hung out today, we went to the beach. It was fun and the beach is so beautiful with all the colors but I was feeling a little off today so we had to cut it short. I'm not sure why. It happened after we kissed for the first time. I just didn't feel that…connection. The one we're told we'll instantly feel as soon as we meet our soulmate. I'm not sure I felt it at all. It's not that Eddie's not a good kisser or anything, he's great! I actually think there's something wrong with me. Eddie is supposed to be the one I've been waiting for. He's perfect. He's kind, he makes me laugh, he's handsome, he's passionate, and he really cares.
So why do I feel like it's all wrong?
How could the perfect person feel so wrong?
I can see the colors now and they're so beautiful. That should mean it's true, he's my soulmate. I only saw them after I met him. But I can't ignore this feeling in my gut that's telling me this isn't right. It doesn't feel like I thought it would, like it should. Maybe I should just stick it out. In time it should start to feel like it should…right?
I worry it may not be fair to Eddie to keep pretending that I don't feel the way I do.
How do you tell your soulmate you think the universe made a mistake? And then how do you convince them it's not their fault?
It's me, I know it is. Something is very wrong with me.
We're seeing each other again tonight. Hopefully I stop feeling this way soon. He doesn't deserve this.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
Eddie's coming to pick me up in an hour. I'm worried I'm falling back into old habits by trying to push this feeling down. I'm supposed to be living life the way I want, doing what feels right and makes me happy. But at the same time Eddie is my SOULMATE. That's supposed to mean something. I'm supposed to feel…something.
Its not that I don't feel anything towards him. I'm not apathetic. I like him, and I care about him enough to not want to hurt his feelings. I just don't feel the connection I think I'm supposed to. Maybe it's because we're so different? But that shouldn't matter if this is fate, right? Is it even possible for fate to make a mistake?
What's the right answer here? Do I tell him how I'm feeling and risk hurting him? Or do I just grin and bare it until this feeling goes away? Will it go away?
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
I told Eddie. I hadn't meant to but we'd been drinking and after having half a bottle of wine to myself it just sort of slipped out. He didn't take it well. Pretty sure he hates me now. I get it, I'd hate me too. This is why I never do this. This is why I just stick it out. The way he looked at me was just horrible. Compared to a lot of the other guys I've dated Eddie was actually good and nice to me. Not that we even got the chance to really date.
I finally had a chance at happiness and I blew it. I don't deserve him. Maybe that's why it never felt right. The colors are all gone now. They left as soon as he did. I don't know what that means.
Maybe it was just a fluke. The colors would have stayed otherwise, right? Is it the universe that made a mistake or am I the mistake? Maybe I'm broken. I feel broken.
What kind of person finally meets their soulmate and doesn't feel any real connection to them?
There's something wrong with me, there has to be. I don't know what else it could be.
I'm too scared to tell anyone what happened. They'd never understand.
I thought maybe I should at least tell my best friend. At least to get it off my chest. But I'm worried what she'll say. Will she judge me? Tell me what I've been told my entire life, to just stick it out until it gets easier? She doesn't care for this soulmate stuff but it's not like she's one of those cynics who doesn't believe in it. I don't think she'll understand. I don't even understand.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
I can't sleep. I just keep replaying what happened in my head. Everything could have been perfect if I wasn't so selfish. The universe gave me what I asked for and I spat in its face. All because of a feeling???? After one kiss???? I could have made it work, I think. If I had just stuck it out I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't have hurt him. Maybe my mom was right. If I had been good none of this would have happened. I just want to be a good person. I don't think I am one.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿ ‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
I didn't sleep much last night. Every time I closed my eyes I just saw his face again and that pained look on it when I told him something about us didn't feel right.
I hope Eddie's okay. I wonder if he still sees the colors or if they stopped for him when they stopped for me. I really hope he finds his real soulmate. He's such a good guy he deserves it so much. I'm not so sure I do anymore.
I can't really bring myself to enjoy the rest of my vacation. But I can't go home early either. I wouldn't know what to tell everyone. They'd want to know why I'm going home so early. I don't want to lie to them but I'm not ready to tell them what happened, I don't know if I ever will be. Guess I'm stuck here for a couple more days. Feels wrong after what happened.
Everything is so dull now. When he left he took the colors with him. Maybe that was the universes way of punishing me for questioning it.
✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿ ✿ ‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧
Dear Diary,
I just heard from my guru and she told me I should be meeting my soulmate in the next couple months. I didn't tell her about what happened but maybe there's hope for me yet. Maybe I was right about being wrong.
It has to be a fluke, right? The colors would have stayed otherwise. They wouldn't have gone away just because I said I was feeling weird/unsure or because Eddie left. That doesn't make any sense!!! None of this makes sense. It's supposed to be fate. I'm starting to think that weird feeling was my gut telling me that it knew it wasn't real, that it was just an unlucky coincidence. A phenomenon, a trick of the eye. That has to be it.
I have to believe my soulmate is still out there. My perfect person. The one who will give me that bursting love I crave. Otherwise I don't know what else to believe in.
A/N: honestly I’m expecting a total of two people to read this (hi Hannah, hi Sarah 👋) but if you’re not one of those two people OMG HI!!!!! Thank you so much for reading!!
Shoutout to my very own (platonic) soulmate/beta reader @hydeandwoeseek. Thank you for all your help Sunny ily!!!!
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and cherished! ♥️
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Just when you think things are finally starting to shape up, life hits you again. Between arguments with friends and unexpected confrontations, you and Eddie are still struggling to adjust to your new realities. Neither of you having exactly grasped the concept of healthy coping strategies.
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: MORE angst, slight hurt/comfort (as in it’s mostly hurt with a smidgen of temporary comfort), mentioned homophobia, minor violence/fighting, protective Eddie, blood mentioned repeatedly, non-consensual groping, drinking, self destructive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self loathing, arguing, implied past child abuse, minor injury to characters, taking care of each others injuries, protective bff Jonathan, brief Argyle appearance (more to come!), minor Ronance, reader uses she/her pronouns, Eddie refers to reader as “my lady”, referenced death of loved ones (Eddie’s mom and aunt), more Sindarin (he can’t help himself)
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.3k
A/N: Me posting an update??? It’s more likely than you think.
Eddie’s alarm blared obnoxiously in his ear. He groaned, tossing and turning before slapping his hand on the offending machine. His head pounded, sweat stuck to his skin and nausea sat in his stomach. With a disgruntled huff he sat up. He rubbed at his tired eyes with one hand, scratching at his stomach with the other. Too tired and hungover to realize he had not set his alarm the night before. Grabbing his phone from the night stand he checked it, a part of him wondering if you had texted him. As his eyes strained against the bright light of the screen he saw the only message was from his manager Rusty.
[ Heard you finally came out of hiding. Thanks for the heads up. We need to talk. Tomorrow at 8 am don't be late. ]
Typical Rusty. He wasn’t the most empathetic man. In fact, he was a dick. Eddie wondered why they even hired him in the first place. With a heavy sigh he slumped back down into his bed but just as he closed his eyes again his bedroom door swung up and his light was flicked on, engulfing the room in a brightness that pierced his skull like a hot knife.
“Good you’re up,” a chipper Gareth strolled into the room. “Wasn’t sure your alarm would actually wake you.”
“What do you want?” He practically whined, wanting nothing more than to sleep in. He’d been having very pleasant dreams before his alarm woke him, dreams of a new friend.
“Paul and I are taking you out for breakfast,” Gareth stated matter of factly. “So get your ass showered and dressed and meet us by the front door in 20 minutes.” He patted his shoulder before leaving, not bothering to close the door behind him.
Eddie would have stayed in bed if it weren’t for his hungover cravings for some greasy foods. Pancakes, crispy home fries, and bacon. Sluggishly he rose from his bed, eyes squinting in the light as he headed to the shower.
“20 minutes Edward!” Gareth called after him as he watched him leave his room and head for the bathroom, knowing his friend's propensity for long showers. Eddie merely waved him off dismissively before closing the bathroom door behind him.
He stripped of his clothes from last night, having been too tired and drunk to even change. He stood under the hot water, a hand on the wall while his head hung low letting the water run over him and ease the tension in his body. As he looked down he caught a glimpse of some old ink on his thigh, a tattoo that he often found himself forgetting about when most of his wardrobe included jeans. A remnant of a different time.
It was a drunken decision he made when he was new to Chicago. Steve had offered to show him and the other Corroded Coffin boys around, specifically the bar scene. The booze fueled Eddie's impulsiveness and he managed to convince Steve, and only Steve, to get a tattoo with him. They found a sketchy shop willing to do it for them. Two matching beans that they had wanted to look like the Cloud Gate sculpture with reflections of the city, but really just looked like a regular bean. The words, “Chicago Style” accompanied it.
It was stupid, something that used to bring a smile to his face when he saw it and was reminded of that night. The start of their friendship. Now though, it was a reminder of how foolish he had been. Acting, and trusting, without thinking. A permanent mark of what he had lost. All because the universe couldn't give him a break.
It wasn’t lost on him that he seemed to have a penchant for drunken decisions involving bodily modifications with needles. A habit he hoped to kill so that he’d never have to live with only more shards of the past.
He didn’t bother to wash his hair, knowing that would only make him take longer which would make Gareth’s nagging worse. By the time he was done getting ready he knew it had been more than 20 minutes but Gareth seemed to have been prepared for that.
“30 minutes, not bad Ed,” he smiled at him before his face went down to his attire. “That’s what you’re wearing?” He gestured to his outfit. An old band t-shirt, the logo faded to the point it was almost unreadable, and an even older pair of jeans with grease stains from working on cars with his uncle.
“What’s wrong with it? Was I supposed to dress up to be a third wheel for you and Paul?” Eddie rolled his eyes as he slipped on his shoes and out the door, stomach growling as thoughts of fresh bacon kept him from running back into bed.
The restaurant they went to was not what Eddie was expecting. Their usual place, Mama B’s, was an old school diner known for its fluffy pancakes and greasy breakfast sandwiches. That was what Eddie liked. Diners like that reminded him of the one he went to growing up with Wayne and Patty known as Benny's.
This restaurant was nothing like Mama B’s or Benny's. For one, there were no booths. Only tables with white tablecloths and candles. The waiters had actual uniforms rather than just an apron and a name tag. The napkins were cloth and there were no little creamer pods or sugar packets on the table. The atmosphere was nothing short of romantic, rather than Mama B’s coziness.
“Why the hell did you guys bring me along on your date?” Eddie asked, both confused and annoyed. The last thing he wanted was to sit across from the two of them and just watch how in love they were.
“About that Ed—“
Before Gareth could finish another voice spoke up.
“Sorry I’m late! Got stuck in traffic,” they went over to Paul giving him a hug as he stood, then doing the same for Gareth before turning to Eddie with a wide grin. They were cute, definitely his type and Eddie knew then exactly what was going on.
“I’m Casey, Gareth’s told me so much about you,” they stuck out their hand and Eddie shook it hesitantly.
“Has he?” Eddie shot a look at Gareth, trying his best to not look as angry as he was feeling to not hurt Casey’s feelings. It wasn’t their fault that his friend was a prodding idiot.
“Gareth, can I speak to you for a minute?” He kept his voice calm, even managing a smile. Gareth nodded hesitantly before excusing the both of them. Eddie pulled him into a corner of the restaurant, eyes shooting daggers at him. “What are you doing?” He whispered with a sneer.
“I just don’t want you holding onto this Chrissy stuff anymore—“
“It’s not up to you!” Eddie fumed. He hated being blind-sided, he hated surprises but most of all he hated pity. His friends didn’t understand, could never understand. He had opened his heart up to the universe and it spat in his face. He couldn’t go through that again.
“Casey’s great! You guys have a lot in common and they—“
“Gareth stop it!” Eddie snapped. Heads from the tables near them looked in their direction only to quickly look away when Eddie shot them all a particularly nasty look. “This is the second time you’ve done this,” he whispered again, voice laced with frustration. “Tell Casey I’m sorry but…I’m leaving. You need to stop trying to fix me, Gare. You can’t.”
As Eddie left he ignored Gareth calling after him, making his way down the road, wanting to be anywhere but there. Heading in the direction of Mama B’s already thinking of all the deliciously greasy food he was going to eat.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The hardest part of any breakup, friendship or otherwise, was that you saw them everywhere. Even in the gaps they left behind.
The apartment was so quiet. There was no hustle and bustle from a certain roommate rushing to get ready after sleeping in again. The bathroom counter had lost most of its clutter, the other half of the sink was barren of any sign of her. There was no “Good morning beautiful :)” sticky note on the bathroom mirror with some ibuprofen waiting on the counter for you to nurse your hangover-induced headache. There was no smell of fresh coffee brewing ready for you when you got up, no tea for her steeping on the counter.
No, this morning you awoke to a silent apartment. You grabbed the ibuprofen from the cabinet, grimacing at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. You made your own coffee. Same as you had these last three—almost four—months.
As you looked at the calendar in your kitchen you saw that rent was due in a few weeks. It was not something you could afford without help, help you no longer had. While Chrissy's advanced rent certainly lessened the burden when she moved out, with you not doing commissions and solely relying on the measly paycheck from the community center you knew you wouldn't have enough. You either had to get another job or move. With the stillness of your once lively apartment seeming to envelop you, moving didn't seem so bad.
You rummaged through your junk-drawer for the sharpie you always used to mark off the date but as you did your eyes landed on a familiar strawberry magnet. Memories of its origin came back to you in snapshots. A packed festival. A mouth full of lemonade. Stalls of handmade goods, including one that sold clay magnets. The grin on her face when you gave it to her followed by a promise to cherish it forever. A promise that now laid forgotten in a drawer. Your heart sank to your stomach as you slammed the drawer shut, opting to just forget about your search and finish getting ready for the day.
You spent the morning with a sinking feeling in your chest, like you were waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. This feeling was not new to you. You felt it most days but now it felt deeper like your chest was caving in on itself. It persisted even during your class at the community center. Even your students had noticed something was off with you. So much so that one of the elderly women you taught, Anita, pulled you aside during class.
“Are you okay sweetheart?” She asked, her eyes filled with concern.
You knew she meant well. You knew she was just trying to look out for you as all the women who took your class did. But you had grown weary of all the times people, namely your friends, asked if you were okay. What started as concern now seemed a lot like pity and that was the last thing you wanted.
You tried to give her a genuine smile but it came across rather stiff before you replied, “I’m fine.”
Anita didn’t seem to believe you by the way her lips curled into a frown but she didn’t press you on it. Something you rather liked about her. You went back to teaching, circling the room and checking up on each of your students to see how they had progressed.
Eventually you were so caught up in your work that it seemed like the hollowness of your chest was dwindling. You had hoped it would stay gone but it returned as soon as class ended.
As you began to clean up and say your goodbyes to your morning class a familiar face walked into the room. It was none other than Carol Perkins, Chrissy’s coworker and her new roommate according to what little your friends had told you.
Carol was dressed impeccably, as always, with a beautiful silk blouse, a pencil skirt that hugged her in all the right places, and designer heels. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her in that moment with your paint splattered overalls, the old shirt you took out of your hamper when you realized you didn’t have a clean one (it smelled okay) and your sneakers that were on their last leg.
She greeted your student Anita with a warm smile. It was almost unsettling. Carol wasn’t someone you would typically describe as nice. You had only met her on a few occasions, usually when you went to one of Chrissy’s work parties to keep her company. Every time you did come across her she was always ready with some form of a backhanded compliment. Yet there she was doting on the older woman. What confused you the most was that this was the first time you’d ever seen Carol pick up Anita. You didn’t even know they knew each other. Usually it was Anita’s son picking her up and he was nothing like Carol. The last time you saw him he was wearing a tie with bananas on it and he made some goofy dad joke to you. The idea of them possibly being related was baffling.
When Carol finally looked over at you her eyes seemed to scan you with indignation. She said something to Anita who proceeded to follow the rest of the ladies out while Carol made her way to you. The sinking feeling returned with every click of her heels against the linoleum.
“Carol,” you nodded your head in a greeting choosing civility. “How do you know Anita?”
“Oh she’s my grandmother, on my moms side,” she replied with an uncharacteristic chipper-ness. “Gammy told me you were teaching this class and I…well I just had to see for myself!”
Your grip tightened on the paintbrushes you were holding as you tried to force a smile.
“I mean it’s just so brave,” Carol continued. “To give up such a promising art career to teach the elderly. You’re so…kind!” Her eyes scanned over your classroom with a critical gaze, just as she had done to you not moments before. You couldn’t help the scowl that overcame your face as she did.
The last time you saw Carol she hardly seemed to think you had a promising art career. In fact she referred to it as you having a hobby for arts and crafts. It was Chrissy who then stood up for you and told her that you were regularly sought after by the soul-matched for your portraiture.
“Have you spoken to Chrissy recently?” She asked, her head tilting in a faux display of innocent interest.
Your jaw clenched as your anger bubbled under your skin. “No,” you said curtly.
“Well she told me all about Steve. God is he handsome!” She gushed and you wondered if Anita would still come to class if you punched her granddaughter right then. “I mean I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love and the fact they’re not even soulmates? It’s adorable!”
Your chest caved, crushing your heart and lungs beneath the rubble of your bones and flesh. The air felt too thick to breathe and your anger seemed to burn at your skin begging you to release it.
“I personally can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone other than my soulmate, but I think they could go all the way!” She wouldn’t stop talking. She needed to stop talking. You wanted to tell her to shut up, to grow up. You wanted to tell her that she was nothing but a mean girl who peaked in high school and now could only get her rocks off through petty gossip and mean jibes but you didn’t say any of that.
It was like she pulled you right back into that bar to force you to watch it happen all over again with your feet numb and glued to the floor.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Her smile turned to a smirk then revealing the Carol you knew. Cruelty was her first language after all.
“Fuck you,” you sneered at her. Your shoulder bumped against hers as you walked past her, finally feeling your feet again as your legs moved faster than you could think. You found yourself in the bathroom, ducking into one of the stalls where you tried to breathe despite the rubble constricting your lungs.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
When Eddie had his fill of Mama B's he took the L to the studio where Corroded Coffin recorded their music, Studio Village. An old house that had been converted with each bedroom made its own studio, for four studios in total. It was a sanctuary to Eddie. He knew none of the boys would be there and that the owner had a soft spot for him, allowing him to be there without booking ahead as long as there was an availability. It was typical for Eddie to go there alone. He enjoyed the solitude and had hoped maybe being there would inspire some new music.
Music was his only reprieve these last few months. Playing was like finally being able to breathe again after months of holding his breath and Eddie felt as though he might asphyxiate.
Performing seemed to be his only truly redeeming quality. On stage he felt wanted. Even if it was a fabricated want. A want for the persona and the music rather than the man. With Wayne he felt wanted too, but Wayne was the exception not the rule. He got lucky with Wayne.
That’s all he craved, he supposed, to be wanted. Gareth’s friend Casey didn’t want him, not really. As soon as they got to know him they would see that he wasn’t worth wanting.
He figured you’d see it too someday. Once the cord of pain that connected you snapped. You’d see what everyone saw eventually, how unpalatable he was. Or worse you’d leave before all that simply from boredom and the realization he had nothing more to offer you than his company. Always too much to handle and yet simultaneously not enough to deem worthy of keeping around.
Luckily for him, music had no wants other than to be played and so he would spend as long as he could getting lost in it.
As he walked into Studio Village though he was met with an unfamiliar face at the receptionist desk in the foyer.
"Can I help you?" The young woman asked with a customer service smile and tone.
"Where's Rain?" He frowned, trying to peak down the hallway as if she would appear just out of one of the many rooms.
"Who?" The young woman seemed confused. Eddie looked down at the desk to see a name placard, what once said Rain Burgess now said Ella Davis.
"She was the receptionist here."
Ella's eyes widened in realization, "Oh! She's on maternity leave."
"Is there a studio open?" He cut to the chase, itching to just get into a studio already. The mornings earlier events had him feeling restless.
"You'd like to make a reservation for one?" She looked down at her computer as if to take down his information.
Eddie shook his head, "no, I want to use whatever you've got available now. I'm Eddie. I'm sure Davey's told you about me."
She only seemed more confused. "Davey?"
"Yeah, David Lipton. Owner of Studio Village, your boss."
"Mr. Lipton's in a meeting right now—"
"Okay, uh, I know this is going to sound like bullshit but Davey I have a deal where I can use a studio without a booking as long as one was available," Eddie tried to explain. He realized how it sounded, like he was just some guy hoping to trick the brand new receptionist into using a studio for free.
He waited for her to give her answer but Ella just looked at him, unconvinced and unimpressed. Eddie sighed and nodded his head in defeat. Knowing Davey would be pissed if he disturbed him during a meeting, he figured it would be better to just come back later. He turned and headed for the door but just as he was about to leave he heard someone calling his name.
"Wait! Wait! Mr. Munson, what can I do for you?"
He looked behind him to see Davey's assistant Lance and smiled at him. "Lance I told you, it's just Eddie. I was just seeing if there was a studio I could use—"
"Yes of course!" Lance nodded enthusiastically before turning to glare at Ella. "Right this way M—Eddie."
Lance lead Eddie up to the second floor to one of the smallest studios. Eddie didn't mind of course. As long as he got sometime alone with a guitar and an amp he would have taken the bathroom. He turned to Lance before he left, "hey, uh, don't blame the new girl. She was just doing her job. If she let any schmuck in here that said they were friends with Davey this place would be chaos." Lance looked at him, seemingly surprised by his statement (which Eddie chose to shrug off lest he fixated on it), but gave him a nod of understanding before leaving.
Inside the studio there were chairs available for anyone to use while recording but Eddie found he was never quite able to sit still, especially while playing. He would say it was because the music itself moved him but the more likely answer would be his own hyperactivity. He didn't have any of his own guitars with him—which would have been preferred—so he just picked up one of the extras there and plugged it in, making sure it was tuned before picking at the strings with his trusted pick he wore around his neck on a cord. As he played his feet paced around the room, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor when he turned dramatically, his mind on the stage. Even in his own seclusion he never stopped performing.
He had a melody that'd been stuck in his head for the last few days that he played, leaning into the feeling of it and willing the music to put him at ease. The melody itself was meant to feel like a release, like an explosion of sound. Yet he couldn't get it to erupt.
His fingers felt almost rigid as he played. No matter how much he plucked at the strings or made his ears ring with the reverberation the music did not feel like the breathing it once did. His chest was still constricted, lungs aching for respite. He kept playing hoping perhaps his frustration might fuel him but it only made it worse. He felt a wrongness seeping into his skin. It was almost as if the music was somehow rejecting him and the comfort he sought. His fingers fumbled, jaw clenching in annoyance as he kept messing up the tune he was trying to play. Music had always felt like the most natural thing in the world to him, like it ran in his blood. Now he was exsanguinated.
In a frustrated huff he unplugged the guitar, stopping himself before he could throw it and put it back on its stand. Finally sitting on one of the chairs, his hands balled up into fists in his hair.
If he couldn't play, what good was he?
He left the small studio with a slam of the door. As he made his way back down the stairs to the first level he passed the front desk, ignoring Ella's wish for him to have a good day. Not even bothering to correct her when she called him Mr. Munson. Just as he made it outside of Studio Village his phone rang with a familiar ringtone, the Wayne's World theme song spilled out as his screen lit up.
“Hey son,” the gruff voice of his uncle greeted him, the voice alone making the tension in his jaw relax.
Eddie smiled slightly. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just checking in on ya, wanted to see how you were doing,” he replied, a twinge of worry in his voice that overshadowed the easiness Eddie was just beginning to feel.
Eddie rolled his eyes and was glad that Wayne couldn’t see it, otherwise he would have gotten a smack upside the head. “I’m fine Wayne.” He answered shortly.
“S’okay if you’re not, kid. Especially with next week coming up.”
“Next week?”
“Yeah,” Wayne said, but didn't elaborate. Eddie paused for a moment in his stride before the realization hit him.
He always felt as though it was some sort of cruel joke from the universe, having the death and birth of the only maternal figures he’d ever known be so close together. Celebration and mourning intertwined, a constant reminder of all that the world can give and take away in an instant. Whenever that time of year came around Eddie’s once hibernating grief resurfaced.
That was the thing about grief. It never really went away. Not completely. It just goes dormant for a time until some event, however large or small, awakens it and reminds him of all the stored up love in his heart. That love often feels rather cumbersome, like his heart might burst from it. But it never does. It just sits there somewhere between the many valves, aching for the reciprocation of his affections, a reminder of all that the human heart is capable of.
“Oh.”
He wasn’t quite sure what else to say. It felt too heavy to put into words like lead sitting on the tip of his tongue.
“Was thinking maybe you could come back to Hawkins for them, spend it together,” Wayne suggested.
Eddie nodded even though Wayne couldn't see it. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
They made their plans before saying goodbye, Eddie's lungs tightening and heart encumbered evermore as he ran his hands through his curls trying to breath a sigh only for it to stutter out.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
A few months ago you would have been ecstatic to hear how happy and in love Chrissy was. Now it burned like a fire poker to your heart. Maybe it was petty, you thought, but you didn’t want Chrissy to get her happily ever after. You wanted her to hurt like she hurt you. That cavernous feeling from that morning followed you around for the rest of the day, a flame of anger sat in the center of it as embers of it stuck to your skin like soot. Even after your afternoon class. Even after you ran some errands around town. Even after you took a walk around the city in an attempt to quell it and even during your dinner with Robin and Nancy.
You met up with them at a restaurant you all frequented, sitting at your usual table. The seat across from you where Chrissy once sat stared back at you mockingly. Another patron approached your table and asked to use it, which Nancy happily obliged. You almost spoke up to stop them but thought better of it. After all, the only occupant of that seat was a ghost of someone you once knew. The conversation dwindled after that as the two women noticed a change in your demeanor and despite your weekly dinners being a strictly no-phone-zone in your friend group, they didn't say anything when you pulled yours out.
You stared aimlessly at your device, not really processing anything you were seeing. Until you scrolled past an ad for a perfume that enhanced your pheromones, giving you a 45% better chance of attracting your soulmate.
Bullshit. You can’t find love in a perfume bottle.
Everywhere you looked now there was an ad for some product to help people find or attract their soulmate. Perfumes, dating apps, soaps, makeup, even diets. It was everywhere. A farce concocted by companies to get poor desperate souls to buy these products. Only to be met with disappointment. No remorse for who they may hurt. Something you thought was once beautiful had been soiled by the reality of it. You began to wonder if Eddie had been right.
Was it really just a phenomenon that had become monetized? Was there any truth to it at all?
A part of you still wanted to believe in it. It was hard to completely let go of those beliefs. Especially when you saw Robin and Nancy together. There was no doubt in your head that they belonged together, but was that enough proof?
For a moment you wondered what Chrissy thought about the monetization of it all, especially when she was one of those who bought into it with the dating app Soul Seekers. It was a reflex to think of her opinion, you told yourself. Despite all these months apart you were still getting used to not being able to turn to her.
“Was there ever a moment where you doubted it?” You asked, finally looking up from your device to your friends.
“Doubted…what?” Robin turned to you, her eyeliner smudged eyes looking at you in confusion.
You set your phone face down on the table and they took it as a good sign that you wouldn’t remain closed off for the rest of your dinner. “If you guys were fated for each other.”
Nancy shrugged as she finished chewing her food before speaking, “A little. I didn’t even realize I liked girls until I met Robin. I had a lot of internalized stuff that I had to work through. That’s why we didn’t start dating right away.”
You looked to Robin for her answer to see a blush creeping up her neck, “Uh, no. I never doubted it. I would have gotten down on one knee right then and there if Nance hadn’t freaked out on me,” she explained.
“I did not freak out!” Nancy scoffed, pushing lightly on Robin's shoulder.
“You so did! You had a total existential crisis right there in the middle of the sidewalk!” Robin laughed, pushing her back in retaliation.
“Did not!”
“Did to!”
It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to sometimes forget there were other people with them. They often seemed to live in their own world, an island of affection and familiarity. Their playful bickering continued with flirtatious pokes and jabs until you just couldn't take it anymore.
“Guys!” You shouted over them, hoping they’d stop their flirty fighting for your sake.
“Sorry,” Robin said looking bashful at you before she sent a playful glare in Nancy's direction.
Usually you didn’t mind seeing Robin and Nancy be so in love. But now it ached, pulling at the tendons of your already weary heart. It was a reminder of what you’d never have.
“Why do you ask?” Nancy questioned, trying to bring the topic back.
You shifted in your seat, nervous to tell them about Eddie. You weren't sure how they would feel about you being friends with him, given your unfortunate histories. A part of you also liked having a friend all to yourself, someone to confide in, someone who understood. But it also didn't seem fair to keep him a secret, to him or your friends. “Do you remember that guy who Chrissy wanted to set me up with that night?” you asked.
“Yeah…” Robin answered hesitantly, looking at Nancy with a concerned look in her eyes.
She did that a lot ever since that night. So much so you wondered if her face ever got stuck like that. It was a rude thought, but their constant worrying was getting old.
“Well I ran into him the other night and we sort of…hung out,” you began, looking down at the table with a slight smile as you fiddled with your fork.
Robin and Nancy exchanged a look you didn't see. If you had you would have seen an expression of relief wash over them.
“And he had this theory–” you continued before you could stop yourself, now looking up at them. “That this whole soulmate thing is just a phenomenon that happens to some people. Like a capitalist scheme to get people to buy these soulmate-attracting products.”
“A phenomenon?” Nancy looked at you with furrowed brows. “I don’t think it was a phenomenon or capitalist scheme that brought Robin and I together.”
“Well…I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe you guys are the exception, not the rule.”
“How can that be the case if it’s not real at all? According to this random guys theory,” Nancy scoffed.
You shouldn’t have told her his theory. She had always been more sensitive when it came to the topic of soulmates. She had heard too many times, by too many cruel people, that what she and Robin had wasn’t real because they were both women. There were some, even today, that believed only men and women could truly be soulmates. It didn’t matter how often they were proved wrong. They were too steadfast in their beliefs, like Nancy’s own family.
“I’m just saying that’s what he believes, and he’s not just some random guy. He’s the guy from the bar,” you tried to explain. “—and I mean if you think about it it makes sense. Just look at this perfume ad—” you tried to show Nancy your phone but she just pushed it away.
“You actually believe that bullshit? That Robin and I weren't meant to be?” Nancy retorted, voice laced with hurt and anger.
You shook your head, “No…I don't know. I'm just saying maybe the colors aren't the only deciding factor.”
“Well, I think this Eddie guy’s theory is a load of bull–” Nancy was cut off before she could finish.
“Nance c'mon you know she doesn't mean it,” Robin said softly, placing a hand over her girlfriends who you now noticed was clutching tightly onto her fork. She leaned into her, speaking in a more hushed voice, but you still heard. “She's just hurting.”
You scowled, looking between Nancy's now softening face and Robin's concerned frown. It pissed you off. It was like you were being reduced to that one horrible night. In their eyes you were something frail and destined to shatter, you were nothing but your pain. “Why does everything I say, do, or think have to be about that night?” you snapped.
“It doesn't but this theory…it just doesn't make sense. I mean you saw the colors with—“
“Whatever,” you didn't let Robin finish, instead opting to gather your things and leave some money to pay for your portion of the meal. “You guys wouldn't understand. Your soulmate actually wanted you.” You left without another word leaving your friends behind as that sinking feeling in your chest seemed to expand leaving a gaping hole, reminiscent of the last time you walked away from a friend.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
One thing Eddie loved about the city was how everywhere you looked there was someone living their own story. A young waitress embarrassing herself in front of her colleagues despite attempts to befriend them. A bus driver with a cheery smile greeting a regular passenger, a friend, they’d been driving for over a decade. A man having a double take at the sight of a woman, in love at the very first glance.
Sometimes he would imagine what their lives were like. Their dreams, the thing that keeps them up at night, their likes and dislikes. Everything that made up a person he’d imagine as if he was the author of their stories. If he focused enough on their problems he felt as though he could forget about his own, if only for a moment. Better that than simmering in his own feelings.
So he sat and watched every passerby, telling stories of love, heartbreak, betrayal and adventure. Lost in his own theater of the mind he didn’t notice the individual who approached him, not even hearing his name until they repeated it a second time.
Pulled from his fictional worlds he was met with a familiar face. He stood up from the bench he was on abruptly and started to leave when the individual spoke.
“You’re not even going to talk to me?” Steve asked, voice full of hurt.
Eddie stopped, turning to him with a cold look of disdain. The mere gall of Steve to act hurt after what he did shocked him to his very core. “Okay, let’s talk. How’s Chrissy?”
Steve adjusted the bag on his shoulder as his eyes met the ground. “I wouldn’t know,” he shrugged.
“What?”
“We broke up,” He said, still not looking up at the older man.
Eddie tutted, beginning to fidget with his rings. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not, I swear. We broke up after that date. She said she couldn’t do that to her friend,” Steve explained. “—and I agreed. It was wrong of us to not at least talk it out with you guys then. I’m sorry Eddie, I never wanted to hurt you.” He looked at him with such sympathy and regret Eddie almost believed him.
Almost.
“You’re so full of shit,” he rolled his eyes. “If you guys were done then why did neither of you say anything to us?”
“I can’t speak for Chrissy but I tried. You wouldn’t answer your goddamn phone.” Steve retorted in frustration.
“Because you were my best friend and in that bar you showed that you didn’t care,” Eddie snapped, hands waving out in anger. “If this breakup thing is true then I’m glad. You both deserve all the misery you put us through.”
“You keep saying us. Have you spoken to Chrissy’s friend?”
“You don’t even remember her name, do you?”
When Steve didn’t answer, Eddie scoffed. He said your name to him, not to be helpful to him but because you deserved to have your name known by the man who hurt you.
“What do you want from me Eddie? What did you want me or Chrissy to do? Would you rather we had pretended?” Steve asked.
“No,” He replied curtly.
“Then what? What do you want?”
He didn’t answer, instead leaning into his defensive instincts. “Well I sure as hell didn’t want my best friend to decide a girl he barely knew was more important than our friendship. That was your choice Steve. Now you have to live with it.”
"C'mon man…"
“You’re a piece of shit. Stay the fuck away from me and her.” Eddie stormed off but without saying your name Steve still knew Eddie was talking about you. Despite everything he took some solace in the fact that his friend was at least not steeping in his pain alone.
Anger and despair roiled away in Eddie’s stomach as he created as much distance as he could between him and Steve. He wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. He never knew Steve to be a liar, but he also never knew him to be someone who would throw away a years-long friendship for a girl he only knew a few months. As he walked, Steve’s question turned in his mind over and over again.
What do you want?
He pulled out his phone, finding your contact and sent you a message.
[ Want to get drunk tonight? Drinks on me. ]
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Eddie met you outside the bar. He was leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette between his lips as he stared vacantly ahead. He looked like a dragon. Nostrils flaring and lean neck stretching upward as smoke billowed out of him. You couldn’t help but stare, knowing behind that hard scaly exterior was a soft underbelly of a boy. It was funny, you knew if you were just passing by him on the street you probably would have been a little intimidated by him but looking at him now there were no feelings of uneasiness, only the recognizable warmth of a friend.
He only seemed to snap out of what appeared to be a daydream when he heard your approaching footsteps. As soon as his eyes met yours he grinned and stomped out his half finished cigarette.
“Mae g'ovannen,” he said, opening the door for you as the bell jingled overhead. There it was. That underbelly of a boy, the one who grew up on stories of magic and elves. You much preferred this side of him than the stoic, enigmatic, rock star he tried to paint himself as.
You didn’t blame him for wanting to uphold that persona. Everyone had them, the masks they wear to hide, to protect themselves. You had your own. You just liked it when his slipped, when you got to see a little beyond. It made you want to keep looking for all the pieces of himself that he kept hidden.
The familiar smell of vinyl seats, cheap beer, and ammonia based cleaner greeted you as you took your seats at the bar just as you did the last time. An old country tune from another decade crooned out of the jukebox, the singer regaling heartbreak and feeling being adrift at sea. There was a bartender busy at work behind the bar, arms decorated in ink, with hair and beard a stark white. The same bartender from the night before.
“Welcome back you two. Second date already?” His gravelly voice greeted you with a smile.
“Not a date,” you both said in unison, you bit your lip as you tried to suppress a laugh while Eddie just looked at you with a cheeky grin.
“Right, whatever you say,” he shook his head. “What can I get you?”
After you ordered you and Eddie slipped into conversation easily. You found yourself ranting about your confrontation with Carol and the newfound knowledge of just how happy Chrissy was with Steve. Eddie remained quiet as you went on, unsure if he should tell you about his own conversation with a certain ex-best friend. He wasn’t sure if it was even true.
“Sorry,” you shook your head. “We agreed to not talk about them.”
Eddie was thankful for that rule now, taking it as a reprieve from having to decide whether he told you what he had learned. If it turned out to be false he knew that it would only hurt you more and he was tired of the both of you getting hurt. More than anything he wanted both of you to move on from it all, whether it was false or not.
"S'okay," a slight smile curled up his lip before he downed his drink, motioning for a refill from the bartender. "Let's talk about something other than our shitty days."
"You too?"
Eddie scoffed as his hand rubbed over his jaw, the slightest of stubble scrapping on his skin reminding him he needed to shave. "Oh yeah."
The bartender placed his new drink in front of him, Eddie nodded his head to him with a muttered thanks. As he went to take a sip he noticed the furrow of your brows from over the rim of his glass. "What's that face for?"
You bit the inside of your cheek, the question sitting on the tip of your tongue. You knew he wanted to change the subject, to talk about something more fun than your current situation or anything in relation to soulmates but the question was heavy in your mouth.
"C'mon, what is it?" He urged you, his dark eyes looking at you with a softness that made you feel as though you could ask or tell him anything.
“They tell you your soulmate is your other half,” you began. “That would imply that people aren’t whole, but I am. I’m a whole person, aren’t I?”
Eddie nodded with enthusiasm. “Of course you are. Nobodies half a person.”
“Yeah,” you replied thoughtfully. “I mean I had a whole life before all this bullshit. A half a person couldn’t possibly have a full life.”
"I think," Eddie paused with a sigh before continuing. "I think we're told that to keep us insecure. To keep us feeling like a broken or unfinished half so we don't stop buying into all of it."
"I saw an ad today for a perfume that claimed to do something with pheromones, I don't know. But I think you're right, and I think it works. A little too well." Your eyes stayed downcast on your fidgeting hands as you spoke.
Eddie placed his hand over yours to stop you and get your attention, but you still didn't look up at him.
"You're not a half. You've never been half of anything. You're whole, wholly you."
You smiled though the corners of your mouth never truly reached your cheeks, giving his hand a squeeze as you finally looked up at him. "Thanks Eddie. You're whole too, you know."
"Yeah," he chuckled lightly. "A whole lot."
"No," you said sternly. "Just whole."
Before he could respond with what you assumed would have been more self deprecation, your phone rang. When you pulled it out you saw the contact name reading Nancy.
"Need to get that?" He asked.
You shook your head and shut your phone off, silencing any incoming calls. "Nope." You'd talk to her in the morning. For now you just wanted to forget. You called the bartender over and ordered shots for the both of you.
The whiskey burned down your throat and with every shot you and Eddie pushed all your anger and pain down, down, down. Deep into a dark pit where you hoped all of it would eventually dissipate. What neither of you realized was that anger and pain fed off darkness. It fed off neglect, knowing the moment you acknowledged its prescience you would find its underbelly to dissect and treat it. In the depths of you it could fester and grow until it was ready to burst, and burst it did.
One moment you were leaning over the jukebox to pick a new song when you felt your ass get pinched making you jump and suddenly Eddie was pushing some guy by the shoulders. An exchange of heated words proceeded. The man tried to swing at Eddie and through your drunken haze you pushed Eddie away before he could, only to have him make impact with you instead.
You felt the air shift then, so thick with tension you could have choked on it. Eddie took one look at the blood pouring from your nose and his anger ruptured like a geyser with a crack of his fist against the man’s face. The brawling continued, a flurry of fists and grasping hands as a friend of the man’s seemed to join in. You tapped the friends shoulder to get his attention and when he turned you punched him right in the nose, same as the other guy had done to you. The man stumbled back and as you tried to pull Eddie away from the creep who touched you, you ended up being accidentally pushed away and stumbling to the floor.
You tried to stand, to help Eddie but between the booze and the fall you were feeling disoriented.
What you didn’t know was that Eddie had been a part of his fair share of outnumbered fights and he’d learned how to take care of himself in those situations. So despite the fact that it was two on one Eddie wasn’t losing. He wasn’t necessarily winning either but he was holding his own.
With copper in his mouth and fire in his veins, Eddie felt the burning heat under his skin with every punch and jab he threw. His festering anger hungered for the stinging of his splitting knuckles. Being able to release it now felt like taking a deep inhale after holding one’s breath. The pain was his oxygen.
It was finally the older bartender who pulled Eddie off the bloodied man and his friend. He helped you up next then proceeded to kick the other two men out, threatening to call the police if they didn’t get lost.
He turned to you and Eddie then, telling you to get out as well once the other guys disappeared. You pulled Eddie to the door once they were out of sight. Before you did though, Eddie grabbed some napkins for your bloodied faces as you left the bar with him.
His pace picked up quickly as soon as the chill of the night hit him, now strides ahead of you. You called for him to slow down but he kept walking, chest rising and falling in rapid succession with his head down. You jogged up to him and grabbed his arm, finally stopping him in his tracks.
"Why are you in a rush? I don't think he's gonna call the cops," you said in confusion and worry.
Eddie turned to face you, his eyes scanning over you to inspect your injuries. His anger dissipated into guilt as he swallowed roughly at the sight of you.
You both were in rough shape. You with your bloody nose and developing black eye. Eddie got the worst of it. A split lip, split knuckles, and the beginning of multiple contusions decorating his face in a horrific display.
He couldn't really bring himself to care how he looked though.
“Keep your head tilted forward,” he said, holding the napkin up to your nose. You winced as it met the still tender flesh. Eddie frowned, pulling his hand away quickly. Your hand replaced his to keep it in place offering him a reassuring smile.
“I thought you’re supposed to tilt it back,” you replied but obliged nonetheless.
“No, trust me I know what I’m talking about,” and you believed he did. “You tilt it forward so the blood doesn’t run down your throat and you don’t choke on it.”
“Gross,” you grimaced as the imagery of such an event popped into your head.
“Yeah, gross. C’mon,” he offered you his arm to guide you while you kept your head down and you gladly did with your free hand.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Eddie was a jinx. It was not a matter of opinion but of fact, he told himself. Everything he touched he shattered. Corrupting the loveliest of things into something ugly and unrecognizable. He had turned a perfectly fine evening out with a friend into a brawl. He took you, sweet, kind, lovely, you and left you covered in blood.
He was a jinx with anger in his veins—anger he inherited from his father. Eddie wanted nothing more than to rip them out, to let himself bleed out on the pavement if it meant he never became anything like him. To his great dismay, he believed he was. He knew he was when he tasted the blood in his mouth and didn’t grimace or spit it out with disregard. He held it as fuel and kept going through the stinging pain.
Now, as he lead you through the streets of Chicago he steeped in that pain. He let it fuel a different part of him, one that felt much meaner than the anger. The white hot shame sat in his chest, burning like a furnace. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He thought he might asphyxiate, and it would be deserved.
When the familiar hand painted sign came into view Eddie picked up his pace, you stumbled slightly as you tried to keep up. A laugh bubbled up out of you at your own clumsiness but he couldn't hear it over the roaring flames in his chest.
He banged his fist against the glass door as he called out to Sofia. There was a crack in his voice that made the smile on your face vanish. You said his name but he only kept knocking. He almost sounded like a scared little kid. Before you could say anything more the lights of the small restaurant were turned on, illuminating through the windows and the door was swinging open.
Sofia stood in the door frame in her robe with curlers in her dark hair as she glared at the both of you, her eyes piercing into you. "Do you have any idea what time—" she cut herself off as the scent of booze and sweat hit her, taking in your disheveled appearances. "Are you drunk?!"
"Do you have a first aid kit?" Eddie asked rather frantically.
Sofia sucked her teeth as she opened the door, stepping aside to let you both in. "Sit down. I have to get it from upstairs." Eddie walked in right away, taking a seat at one of the booths while you were more hesitant, muttering an apology as Sofia slammed the door behind you and skittered off to the back of the restaurant.
Eddie's face rested in his hands as you took a seat from across from him. “This isn't me," he said, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.
“What's not you?” You asked, confusion lacing your voice. The liquor in your blood still made your head feel dizzy as did Eddie's strange behavior.
He wouldn't look at you, couldn't bring himself to. The shame still burned too hot. “I'm not…violent. I don't like hurting people. I-I’m not some dangerous, punch-happy freak. My dad was a violent drunk and I’m not him. I’m not.”
In the little time you'd known him this was a side of him you never thought you'd see. You placed a hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. “I know you’re not."
He pulled away from your touch like it burned him. “I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked as tears sprung in his eyes. “I-I should have just walked away. You wouldn’t be hurt if I hadn’t…I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay Eddie. You were defending me," you said sincerely, though he still wouldn't look at you.
Sofia came back with a first aid kit and two ice packs wrapped in dishcloths. She set them on the table in front of you, looking at Eddie in concern. She turned to you as if you had the answer. All you could do was shrug and she made a face, raised brows as if she had an idea before disappearing into the back again.
You opened the kit, taking out what you'd need to tend to his wounds when he finally looked at you. He sniffled, blinking away at his tears before speaking. “I don’t think we should be friends.”
You froze, “What?”
“I think we bring out the worst in each other,” He looked way from you again and you fought back the urge to grab his face and make him look at you.
You wondered what it was about you that made this keep happening. Why did no one want to stay? Why weren’t you worth staying for? What was it about you that seemed to repel others?
“No we…we can be friends. We’ll just stick to being sober friends. We both had a bad day, that’s all." You pleaded. That cavernous feeling in your chest returned. You thought it might just swallow you whole.
“Everyone who gets close to me ends up getting hurt. I don’t want you to get more hurt than you already have.”
“You didn’t hurt me, that asshole did," you tried convincing him despite the pressure building in your chest as you willed yourself not to cry. Not from sadness but from anger. You couldn't lose another friend. Not again.
Eddie shook his head, “I’m just gonna drag you down with me. You deserve better than that.” The mask he always wore now shattered, scattering into a million pieces as you looked at the scared boy in front of you.
“You’re not gonna drag me down. You know why?” You posed, pushing your anger down and away as to not make it worse by snapping at him. He could try pushing you away, but you wouldn't do the same to him.
“Why?”
“Because you’re the first person in months who’s made me feel like I’m more than just a walking pity party. You’re the first person in months to see me. I like being seen and I know you do too.”
Eddie scoffed. “I don’t think I’m worth seeing.”
“You are to me," you touched his arm again and this time he didn't pull away. He just looked at you. "That’s gotta count for something, right?”
Eddie smiled at you, sadness still sitting in his eyes. “More than you know.”
He felt something in his chest untwist at your words and he wondered what the hell he did to deserve you. The pressure in your own chest released as you switched seats to sit beside him in the booth, turning to face him and tend to his injuries. You removed his rings, worried they might get stuck by any swelling. He winced at the sting of the antiseptic wipes you used to clean his cut knuckles and lip as you whispered a soft apology. You finished bandaging his hands to the best of your ability with a pat on his arm in satisfaction.
Seeing you still had some dried blood under your nose, he took one of the wipes and cleaned it for you as well. You smiled at him with a gentleness he wasn't sure he deserved. He returned it nonetheless as you each grabbed one of the ice packs, putting them to your bruised and swollen faces.
“Can I ask you a question?” You leaned back into the booth, resting your head against the vinyl.
“Shoot."
“Where did you learn to fight? Clearly this wasn’t your first.”
Eddie stiffened for a moment and you wondered if you should have asked at all. “I had to growing up. Between bullies at school and my old man—“
“Your dad?”
“Yeah…my dad,” He nodded solemnly, averting his eyes for a moment as if it was him who was supposed to feel ashamed.
You didn't even know his name, but if you ever met his dad you promised yourself then that you'd show him who really ought to be ashamed.
The back door to the restaurant swung open as Sofia appeared again, a plate of something sweet smelling in her hands. Small balls of baked dough smelling of honey and cinnamon were set in front of you. Your mouth watered in anticipation.
“What’s this?”
“It’s like a donut but with honey on them,” Eddie explained
“Loukoumades,” Sofia corrected. “Now eat."
You didn't hesitate as you grabbed one from the plate, the honey and cinnamon sticking to your fingers.
“And Eddie?” Sofia turned to him, a stern look on her face. “You ever come into my restaurant looking like this again reeking of booze I’m calling your uncle. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” Eddie replied briskly, eyes widening at the threat.
“Good,” she stroked his hair as a mother would, a sad smile on her lips before she kissed his cheek. She left again wishing you and Eddie a goodnight and telling you to clean up and lock up when you finished.
You popped the loukoumade into your mouth humming with content as the sweet, warm, flavor of the honey and the powerful punch of cinnamon hit your tongue. “Are you and Sofia related?” With your mouth still full of the sweet it came out slightly garbled.
“Huh? Uh, no.” He shook his head, sliding his rings back on his finger though they sat awkwardly beside his gauze wrapped knuckles.
“She just seems very maternal towards you."
“Yeah…I wasn’t totally honest about how I knew her. I mean me and the boys did come here a lot after gigs to eat but I knew her before then. She was a friend of my moms,” He confessed.
You paused as you reached for more food. “Oh, why didn’t you say?”
“Guess I wanted to wait until I got into the whole sob story,” He shrugged.
“Wait an hour?” You teased, remembering how he’d opened up to you on that curb the night before.
“Yeah I guess,” he laughed lightheartedly. "Now stop hogging them." He swatted at your hand playfully, making you drop the one you had back onto the plate. He quickly took it into his mouth with a moan before you could stop him. Feigning offense with a gasp and a hand to your heart, you reached for more yourself.
You ate the honeyed treats together in a comfortable silence. You watched as Eddie seemed to inflate again, finding comfort in the food and your company bringing back the guy you knew. The guy you wanted to know so much more. You couldn't help but stare at him. To take in every little detail as if it was bound to vanish before you. From the wrinkle of his brow, to the slope of his nose, to the lines around his mouth and the bow of his lips.
"Can I draw you?" You blurted, your mouth clamping shut in embarrassment as soon as the words left your mouth.
Heat rose in your cheeks as his eyes snapped to you and he swallowed down the bite he had just taken, "Not exactly at my prettiest, sweetheart. But sure why not."
That was new. You chose to ignore the warm feeling that ignited in your chest at the nickname as you got up to look around for something to use. Settling on a napkin and a pen you found at the front counter, you sat back down across from him and began scribbling. You told him to hold still which seemed difficult for him in his inebriated state. Or maybe it was your eyes on him and the way they studied him, taking in every detail they could. Whatever it was he kept adjusting, the vinyl creaking underneath with every move.
It wasn't your best work. Your fine motor skills failing you as you tried to capture his visage. You frowned as you held it away from you, taking in the messy lines and imperfect details.
"Sorry, it's not that good."
Eddie took it from you hands, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the image of how you saw him. It was like you said before, he liked being seen. Most of all by you.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Eddie walked you home, a paper bag of the rest of the loukoumades in his hand and your drawing of him in his back pocket. Your faces hurt and you knew in the morning you'd both be severely hung over, but you as you strolled the well lit streets you felt a little lighter with each step.
"I really am sorry about tonight," he said softly. A flicker of shame still sat in his chest, no matter how hard you tried to douse it.
"Say sorry one more time and I'll take the rest of those donut things for myself," you warned with a faux sternness, wagging your finger in his face.
He chuckled as he handed you the bag. "Take 'em. I can always get more from Sof."
You accepted it with hesitation, grinning back at him. "Thanks."
When you came to your apartment, you bounded up the steps. Almost tripping before Eddie caught you as you both laughed. You went to open the door to your building but it wouldn't budge again. "Bastard keeps saying he'll fix it, but does he? No. As if I don't pay enough for a functioning door," You grumbled before throwing your shoulder into it. Finally forcing it open, you stumbled forward with it.
"Glad to not be the door," he joked as you swatted at him in playful jest. "I'll see ya later." Before he could turn to leave you hugged him. He froze for a moment, not expecting your sudden affection.
"Thanks for being my friend Eddie," you whispered. His arms wrapped around you then, squeezing you tightly.
"Thanks for being mine."
You pulled away smiling at him and because Eddie was never one to handle intimacy well, he bowed. "Novaer, my lady," he said with a wink making you roll your eyes at him.
"Novaer, dork," you curtsied, both of you bursting into raucous laughter as you went your separate ways.
You lumbered into your building, up the stairs and to your apartment door as the keys slipped from your hands and fell to the floor with a clang. Your door opened just as you bent down to pick them up. Your eyes scanned upward from dirty converse, to baggy jeans, to a Talking Heads t-shirt, to shaggy hair, before meeting the familiar face of one of your best friends.
“Oh thank god,” Jonathan sighed in relief. You looked behind him to see Argyle just over his shoulder, waving at you with a gentle smile that you returned. “You weren't answering your phone I–” Jonathan stopped when he saw your face, eyes widening in horror at the forming bruises. “What the fuck happened?” His hand grabbed your chin as he inspected your injuries.
“Hi Jonny! I'm fine,” you said, patting his cheek. “Just went out for a drink.” You pulled his hand away from your face and walked past him into your living room.
His nose scrunched up as the scent of booze hit him. “A drink?” he said incredulously.
“Yeah I went out with Eddie,” you shrugged, taking a seat next to Argyle on the couch.
“Who the fuck is Eddie?!” He exclaimed, whipping around to face you while you set the paper bag of loukoumades on your coffee table. “Did he do this to you?”
“He's the guy from the bar, he was defending me.” you explained, lounging back into the plush sofa. You felt so tired all of a sudden, like the couch itself was lulling you to sleep.
Except Jonathan wasn't quite ready to end the conversation. “Someone you met tonight?”
“No, the other night. He was the guy Chrissy set me up with when she ditched me for Steve.”
“And he let this happen to you?”
“He didn't mean for me to get hurt. It just…happened. He even helped fix me up a bit," you gestured to your bruised face. The ice pack from Sofia had helped the swelling go down, but Jonathan didn't know that.
“For fucks sake,” He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.
You turned to Argyle who hadn't spoken this entire time. “He's really strong,” you giggled, recalling how he managed to hold his own against two men. Argyle smiled but as he went to speak Jonathan cut him off.
“How could you be so stupid? Going out drinking with a guy you barely know, getting into a fight, how did you even get home?” He went on, now approaching to stand directly in front of you.
“We walked."
Argyle finally spoke, his voice remained calm unlike Jonathan's. “So neither of you drove?”
“Nope.” You replied
“That's good, isn't it Jonathan?” He turned to him, a look in his eyes like he was trying to convince him.
“Oh yeah, gold fucking star!” Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I was worried sick about you! You weren't answering your phone, it kept going straight to voicemail! Nobody knew where you were so we figured you'd come home eventually. Nance told me you guys got in a fight—"
You groaned, slumping down into the couch. “Can you yell at me tomorrow? I'm tired.” You had forgotten to turn it back on after the bar, feeling a twinge of guilt poke at your insides at the realization.
“God you don't even care! We thought you were hurt, and you are. All because of that Eddie guy!”
“It wasn't his fault!” you retorted, sitting back up quickly. The guilt was quickly replaced with an instinct to defend.
“Okay, okay,” Argyle butted in. “Let's take a breath here my dudes. Emotions are high right now and yelling at each other isn't helping. I think revisiting this in the morning is a good idea.”
You huffed as you stood, heading in the direction of your bedroom.
"Where are you going now?" Jonathan scoffed.
"My room to sleep, dad," you shouted, slamming your bedroom door. "Get out of my apartment! I'm taking your key in the morning!"
You slumped into your bed waiting to hear your front door close but you heard nothing. "Are you leaving?" You called out.
"Stop acting like a child! You don't get to treat your friends like this just because your hurting!" Jonathan yelled back.
"Go home Jonathan!"
You heard his feet stomping away and your front door slam, followed by Argyle's more gentle footsteps and closing of your door.
Frustration and anger coursed through your veins, every inconvenient or bad thing that happened that day burst through the surface with your tears. It was all Chrissy's fault. She hurt you, left an aching hole in your chest that remained hollow no matter what you tried to fill it with. She left you feeling disconnected from everything. Your art, your friends, yourself. It was all her fault.
You stood from your bed, grabbing a box from your closet before you went around your apartment collecting everything and anything that so much as reminded you of Chrissy. Even after all these months you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to pack anything away. Now fueled by your frustration and own self pity you got to work. Trinkets from your past were thrown into the box with disregard. If Chrissy was going to move on, then so would you.
As you came to the kitchen you opened the drawer with the strawberry magnet, eyes welling with tears as you stared down at it. In a huff of frustration you slammed the drawer shut, leaving the magnet. You threw the box into your coat closet and went back into your room, plopping down onto your bed and wiping away an escaping tear as you winced at the tenderness of your left eye.
It was all your fault. Chrissy leaving. Your failing art career. The growing distance between you and your friends. You were a bomb set to self destruct, and you had detonated.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Eddie decided to take a walk around the city, not quite ready to go home yet. He lit a cigarette, letting the smoke weave its into his lungs and easing the remaining tension in his body. Years ago he made a pact with Steve to quit. That didn’t matter anymore. The pact was null and void just as their friendship was. He picked up his first cigarette when he was on tour and didn't look back, despite the encouraging words of his band mates about how far he’d come. It didn’t matter.
He strolled through the dark and empty streets until he found an old bench to sit on and rested there while he finished his cigarette. Reaching into his pocket he took out the folded napkin of the drawing you had done of him, a small grin encroaching on his face. He stomped the bud out and his head tilted back towards the sky.
His mind wandered to earlier that day as Steve's question came to the forefront of his mind.
What do you want?
If he was braver he would have said he wanted to be chosen. He wanted someone, anyone, to choose him. To be someone’s first choice for once. He wasn’t Chrissy’s and he wasn’t even Steve’s. He wasn’t even the second choice. He was a last resort. Someone only wanted when no other options remained. Before tonight he would have assumed that you were no different. That if it weren’t for your shared pain he wouldn’t even be a blip on your radar. But when he pushed, you held on. Even though he didn't deserve it.
Maybe you hadn't exactly chosen him, but you'd chosen to fight for him.
“I really fucked up tonight,” he whispered up to the stars. He couldn't see them, not with all the city lights and pollution but he still felt them there. He still felt those beyond them that he was reaching out to. “I break everything I touch, even her. She was good before me. She’s better off without me, I know she is but I can’t just…” he sighed before continuing, hands rubbing over his tired eyes, wincing as he momentarily forget the tenderness of his black eye. “I can’t just ditch her. She’s had enough of that so I guess I…I gotta be better.”
Cars drove by, the city never quite still even in the night. The only sound he could hear in response was the rumbling of engines and the buzzing of the street lamps. He looked back down at the napkin, thumb stroking over the fine lines before continuing. “I know that’s what you guys would want from me. You both raised me better than this so…I promise I’ll be better.” He tucked the napkin back into his pocket, facing the starless sky once more.
“I just don’t know what to do with this anger. Where do I put it? Can’t lock it away, that only makes it worse. So where does it go?”
He waited for an answer he knew would never come. There was only the busy city and a squirrel that ran down the trunk of a tree, dashing past his feet and into some bushes out of sight.
"Wish you guys were hear to tell me what to do." A breeze picked up then, shaking the leaves of a tree a few feet from him. A leaf blew down to land right by his shoe. He reached down and picked it up, it was shaped like a heart and he examined its vein-like appearance. He wanted it to mean something even though he knew it was silly.
"What am I doing? Looking for signs from a couple of dead people, as if you guys could ever answer me," he shook his head dropping the leaf as he stood from the bench and took another cigarette out. "Well, it was nice talking with you. Miss you both, a lot. Uncle Wayne and I already made plans for the, uh, well that week. You know the one. Love you mom, love you aunt Pat. Say hi to Grandpa Joe for me alright?" He lit the cigarette and walked back down the street towards his apartment as the leaf he had dropped was picked up with the wind again and swept away in his direction.
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕 →
A/N: I’m so sorry it took my so long to finish this. I was stuck on the last few scenes for AGES. Anyways, as always, thank you to my co-conspirator/beta reader @abitchyouhate for beta reading for me and helping me so much with this chapter and encouraging alllll the angst 😈. I love you forever and ever and ever. Also this chapter is dedicated to @writinginthetwilight thank you Han for all your kind words and encouragement. Your excitement for this story has made me keep going even when I wanted to throw in the towel.
Thank you so much for reading. I really hope you enjoyed it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated and cherished! ♥️
Onto Part 4!!! Which should hopefully not take me nearly a year this time…
I do not give permission to have my work copied, translated, reposted on any platform, or put into any AI programs.
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️18+: tooth rotting fluff, anxiety, panic attacks, eddie is sick, angst, nervousness, talk about illnesses, a new character comes in
wc: 14.2K
A/N: welp. So sorry for the wait. I wasn't going through a good time lately, and thanks to Johnny Storm i got my spark back, a little. AND AND AND AND BECAUSE OF @deaddflowerz WHO IS DRAWING BARING TEETH EDDIE JUST BECAUSE? LIKE? anyways you guys will hate me thank u @andvys for proofreading and telling me it doesn't suck
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 27
He took a deep breath once you sat down next to him.
You smelled sweet, yet a little sour. He could clearly smell your nervousness, which he could understand because it wasn’t easy meeting a whole group of people at once. His eyes roamed over you as you finally introduced yourself for the very first time. He could smell Jonathan’s scent spike, and his eyes found his friend, his eyes scanning your body just the same.
He gave you a soft smile, yet your sourness was still there, which made his nose scrunch in alarm. He sometimes wished he didn’t have to deal with this, because then he wouldn’t judge people so easily. However, scents he dislikes are a warning sign for him. The more you talked, the more… sour it turned…
Then he remembered Robin’s scent when she told the group about you. Robin’s scent reminded him of a scented cherry candle, but that time, it also smelled burnt. Something was wrong with you. Robin seemed excited about you, but Eddie knew something was going on.
And then, he asked what brought you to Chicago. He asked nicely, and you shot him a smile that didn’t reach your eye, and the sweetness of your scent left you completely.
“Well, um… Independence mostly. Always lived in a small town in Georgia, and I didn’t have many opportunities with my degree there, so… Here I am.”
You were a mother fucking liar.
He knew his own scent had turned bitter, but he was relieved no one at the table could detect it. He took a sip of his beer as Argyle kept talking, introducing himself, and when you asked if he and Eddie were together, the metalhead couldn’t help the sharp, stinging tone behind his voice.
“Do I look remotely gay to you?” Eddie asked you, wiping his mouth with his wrist, and you flushed in embarrassment, noticing that you hadn’t said the right thing.
“I just– I don’t know, he said, inseparable, so I assumed–”
“Well, it was wrong.” He said coldly, taking you aback. You opened your mouth to apologize as the table erupted in giggles.
He didn’t want to hear it. Not when you were a complete liar to one of his closest friends. He would protect them till the end of time. Forever.
Because this was his pack, and you were a thorn trying to get in.
He could smell how uncomfortable you were, nervous, displeased. He wasn’t going to stand there and do nothing. Even if he didn’t like you, even if he didn’t want you there, Robin considered you part of her own pack in her mind. If something were to happen to you, Robin would be distraught.
So, he marched over towards you at the club, holding your shoulder to pull you behind him, his eyes finding the depraved man’s eyes in front of him.
“Don’t you understand the word ‘No’?”
“Saw her first man, go away.” And Eddie’s vein popped off his neck, pushing the man away as hard as he could. The man stumbled a bit, glaring at the metalhead.
“She’s not an object to call dibs on. Fuck. Off. She doesn’t want to go with you.”
And the man was ready to charge at him. He was ready to do so, but Eddie was furious. He glared at the man, puffing his chest a bit as his top lip tugged a bit in disgust, in rage. His fists clenched hard on his sides as he stared down at the little man before him, whose scent turned smaller and smaller by the second.
Even if the man was a Beta, Eddie still had Alpha traits that worked as if they had never stopped or disappeared. The man just didn’t know why he was backing down so easily. He didn’t know it was because of the Alpha pheromones that Eddie was letting out.
He watched the man walk away and then turned around to face you again. You were shocked, stunned in your place as you stared at him. His gaze softened, leaning forward a bit so you could hear him
“Do you want to go to the bouncer to throw him out?”
“Yeah, okay, did you cum?”
“Excuse me?!”
He knew he shouldn’t get under your skin like this, but he knew you were not satisfied. He could smell your hormones, almost, how you were left aroused, unsatisfied. He didn’t need you to tell him you hadn’t gotten off from your date with Jason Carver, whom he told you was a mistake to sleep with.
It was unexpected that the liquid was drenched on him. The beer rolled off his face, making his anger just boil over the edge. He yelled at you, and you yelled back. Your scent was sharp, stinging, but he wanted you out of this place. He wanted you out of his pack’s home, their safe space.
So, after Robin and Steve came out, he decided to pay it back, throwing his drink on your head.
Second thing he didn’t expect, being tackled to the ground by you. He didn’t want to put pressure on you because he could easily break you. If he wanted to, you would be with snapped bones right now. His chest was hit over and over as his nose flared with displeasure, and he could sense everyone else worriedly coming to separate you two.
Steve was worried to another level because he knew about Eddie’s condition. He knew Eddie was volatile, and he knew about how he thought you were not being truthful to Robin. That meant you were a suspicious person. You were lying about your past, and maybe because you did something sketchy, and he didn’t want his pack to suffer something thanks to your actions.
“Just because I call you out on your bullshit doesn’t mean I am interested in any of it. Be fucking sincere for once, because maybe, just maybe darling, that might be the reason your dates fucking fail.”
He should have stopped there. He should have noted how the bitterness in your scent had lowered by his words. But he was angry. He was so fucking angry.
“Have you ever thought that maybe, probably, POSSIBLY, you are the problem?”
And not only your scent had gotten… muddy, wet, earthy… Robin’s turned strong. His eyes widened when he saw your face. He had never seen you like that. You were broken. He had said something that only brought pain back to you, something you probably wanted to forget.
And when you left, he couldn’t help but taste the bitterness on his tongue.
If only he weren’t so protective of his friends, maybe he wouldn’t have snapped like that.
He couldn’t get you out of his head.
The way you had poured your past to him. The way your body trembled. The way you cried. The way that he could barely stand how damp your scent felt to him, and he knew you were not happy. You were not okay with having told that story to him. He shouldn’t have exploded the way he did, but he was out of his quarter rut, so everything was a little more heated up for him than before.
Everything made him angry or emotional, and he had hurt you in the process of it. He didn’t know if you would ever forgive him, but now, more than anything, he wanted it. He didn’t have a problem with you joining the pack any longer, but you hated him. He really fucked it up thanks to who he was.
But to his surprise, on that balcony, he witnessed your first laugh towards him. A first smile. A first conversation that didn’t include insults or bantering for the first time. A genuine conversation. An honest one. Where he told you about his uncle, because you two didn’t know each other. It was something new, and maybe it was too soon to open up the way he did, but after what you told him, he would reciprocate the same way.
“So, you would commit murder for my sake.” You said as you took another swig of your nicotine stick, looking at him as he looked forward again into the sky.
“If he hurts you after what you went through? I think Robin would be my alibi.”
The threat had come out before he could stop it. You were part of his pack, even if you didn’t like him; he would protect you. He won’t let anyone disturb you. He won’t let anyone destroy your happiness. Not again.
He’ll make sure of that.
You smelled sweeter every day. He wondered if you had enhanced your scent with perfume, or maybe his nose started to become faulty, because he only smelled women getting sweeter to him, when his pheromones wanted said woman. But he didn’t want you. You were with Mr. Model. He assumed he was just very protective of you now, after everything.
But then you saw him cry. You came by his shop unannounced and caught him after the ride from Hawkins the day before caught up to him again. Wayne didn’t look okay. He didn’t look fine. He didn’t look fucking alive, and Eddie could barely handle it.
He pretended to be alright. He pretended nothing was bothering him. But fuck, something was making him a little dizzy with you. Something that made him lose his strong bravado, and the walls came tumbling down the moment you asked him what was wrong.
“I don’t…” And he shouldn’t tell you. He shouldn’t speak of something like this to you, because you two just barely started talking, but for some reason– He felt you could understand him.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask something like that–”
“It’s my Uncle.”
And your hand was warm over his. Super warm. Extremely warm.
He liked it.
He looked at his hands after he ripped Mr. Model away from you.
Steve stared at him with worry, wondering if his friend was alright, as he then looked up to see your face once again. You were distraught. Crying out against Robin, he wanted to comfort you as well. His protectiveness and his need to make you feel okay because you were part of his pack now were becoming too great, and he needed to go beat the asshole up.
Billy did care for you. He could smell it, but just like you had, he had a sour scent behind, a hint of something that Eddie felt uncomfortable with. Uneasy.
And after days, a week, two, of you simply not talking to any of them, he had had enough of it. He was worried. Too worried. He needed to see if you were okay, and he didn’t have a clue what you even looked like now. So he told Robin to call you up, and whoever could, were going to go to your house, whether you liked it or not.
Steve had told him to calm down, that you were at least alive, but that wasn’t enough. It should be, and it fucking wasn’t. He didn’t want you to suffer anymore, because you didn’t fucking deserve that shit. You didn’t. Not again.
And when he finally saw you, he felt relief and grief at the very same time. You were clearly not eating okay, you had bags under your eyes you tried to conceal with makeup, and you just looked… tired.
He tried to lighten up the situation, and his nose scrunched up when he sensed how bitter your scent got when you mumbled to Robin that you were fine. Liar. You were lying again, and he knew Robin noticed. They all knew you weren’t okay, but all he could do was try to make it better. He had to make you feel better. He had to try.
And you did.
He couldn’t believe you truly thought you would never have the chance of a family. If there is anyone in the world who wouldn’t have a single chance, it would be him. His condition was too risky for a family; no woman would understand or even try to be with someone like him for life.
Because that’s what would happen, he would get together with someone, and for him, that person could be their mate, but for the other one, it would be just a normal beta, a normal person, and if they broke up, they would move on pretty easily.
But not Eddie.
Eddie would try not to kill himself for a while. The rejection sickness was probably going to hit him for the first time, being the worst of it all. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t take any chances. But he couldn’t tell you that.
Nobody knew how alone he really felt. Not even Steve.
But maybe Wayne.
Your scent was even fucking sweeter.
And he knew he was starting to get in trouble.
The lingering gazes. The stares. The touches. The subtle flirting. He shouldn’t let that happen with you, but he could hardly contain himself. He was drawn to you like a goddamn magnet. He shouldn’t, and he knew it, and yet–
Your lips were nectar on his. He had never tried anything sweeter before. A soft, quick peck over a drinking game, yet enough to drive him insane. Enough to settle in his gut that he had to have you no matter what. He couldn’t even think of the consequences as he felt the fire in his chest brimming, burning him slowly.
And when the next weekend came, and you were clearly trying to get his attention, he knew he was growing a little possessive. He shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. He took the opportunities to throw flirty comments your way, but was still testing the waters. Still waiting for your reactions. Watching the way you move. The way you flinch. The way your scent heightens just for a second, to then return to normal.
You were nervous, that much he knew. Indecisive, but your body was betraying you. He had set his mind on having you already; he knew his resolve. He knew what he wanted. What his Alpha wanted. This aspect of his came by a few times in his life as an Alpha. Wanting things so desperately, to the point of going a little too far to get them. He got angry when things didn't go his way. Fury was something he had to learn to control as an Alpha. He got too hot-headed over the smallest of things, the tiniest of annoyances.
So working at Scoops Ahoy alongside Robin and Steve was a challenge at first. Gladly, he was already a few years ahead of his presentation, so he had managed to control his feelings a little bit better than when he was a mere teenager. That was, well, until you came along.
You kept saying the word 'friend' to him. You kept murmuring it, as if trying to convince yourself of it. He knew you wanted him, so he wondered why you were so hesitant about it. He wasn't thinking of consequences really, he just wanted to properly taste you. He didn't want a simple peck. He wanted to wrap his lips around you, taste your tongue with his, make your body grow a sweat for him to taste.
And then you pulled on his hair, as if you didn't know what you were doing. As if you didn't know it would rile him up. He felt his chest rumble with a low growl, a threat, as he looked at you through the mirror.
“I dare you to do that again, Peach.”
Your scent, once more, spiked up. Your face twitched, your throat bobbed, your breath hitched. He noticed every single thing. His eyes never missed a change of pace. He could feel the nerves, the excitement, the thrill, the uncertainty, and all he wanted was to prove to you that he could take all of that away if you would just give him one night.
Maybe tonight was the night.
But he couldn't help the slight joy of having you laughing, just like you always did before you broke up with Billy. The bantering that was jokingly done between the two of you, the easiness that came with talking to you about anything, joking about anything, laughing about anything.
So he kind of guessed why you were nervous. He could see that line that was still drawn between the two of you, and he came to the conclusion that, if it were to be crossed, it wasn't going to be thanks to a step of his, but a step of yours. He was going to wait for a green light, if that ever came. He was going to still flirt with you, of course, but he was not going to break.
And when everyone left, except Argyle and Eden, and Eddie went to look for you, and saw you dancing like that, he felt the fire inside of him burn brighter than hours ago. His fingers itched with the need to touch you. His teeth ached with the necessity of taking a bite. But he couldn't. He couldn't. He was first and foremost, your friend.
But you were such a fucking bitch, because how dare you press your ass against him and slide down on him the way you did? Dance against him as if he weren't your friend? Then, turning around when he warned you that you were overdoing it. You were drunk, and he was too, but he had a bit of consciousness left. You bantered with him. You kept touching him slightly, pressing against him, purring in his ear. But he wasn't going to cave in; he wasn't going to succumb to the need of having you when you were clearly nervous about something.
And then you kissed him, and how could he hold back? There was absolutely no way that he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, welcome the step that you took, and cross that invisible line, even if small. He kissed you back, ferociously, grabbing at every inch he could of you.
Your scent was all over him, all inside of him. It was sweet, mixed with the alcohol, and the arousal. He could smell how worked up you were with him. There was no denying you had a sexual attraction to him, but if he needed proof, this was the one. His hands betrayed him, groping your ass, pulling you even closer. His tongue slid into your mouth, and his chest rumbled with delight. You tasted as sweet as you smelled.
But when the moment came to pull away, and he saw how your eyes rolled to the back of your head, his own arousal was gone. His protectiveness surged, clearing his foggy mind from the alcohol, at least until he knew you were safe. You were his pack now, part of it, and as he carried you to the car after getting Argyle and Eden, he made sure to check you weren't falling asleep. He held you in the back of the car, trying to fight off his own dizziness from the alcohol, and Argyle talked as he started the car.
"So, first your house and—"
"No time, take me back to my house, and I'll let her sleep there. She might puke any second and—" He couldn't say that he needed to know you were safe. He couldn't say that he needed to see you in his den, or else he would have a nervous breakdown. He needed to take care of you. He did it with Steve before, with Nancy, and you were not an exception.
Argyle didn't question it, just shrugged as he held Eden's hand over the console. Eddie looked at the joined hands, only to then feel a squeeze in his own, making him look down at you. You were gripping his right hand as you lay on his chest, legs across his lap.
He gripped your hand back.
“We’re gonna forget it happened.”
Well, that pissed him off. Why were you so against the idea of even kissing him? You wanted to forget the kiss of the night before. He was irritated, angry, confused because he didn't know why you were being so stubborn. Why you didn't even want to try it out. Test the waters, just like he was.
And you saying that you two were friends, and just that, bullshit. It was such bullshit. He could smell how aroused you were right now, yesterday, the days you came by to his shop, whenever he flirted with you or gently touched you. He knew it all, and yet you were resolute on making him miserable. His jaw clenched as you tried to explain yourself. How you were touchy sometimes when you were drunk, and he knew that was a fucking lie.
But as he talked with Steve on the phone, and saw you looking for your clothes, he felt his chest clench. He didn't want to lose you. Even if you drove him mad, you were still part of his pack, one way or the other. He felt protective of you after you told him what you went through. He didn't want to be a cause of distress for you or complications. You lived with those for the past two years.
So he played nice.
He returned to his old mannerisms, but no flirting. He tried not to watch your instagram stories, knowing he would get lured back into jacking off into his own hand or a random number in his phone. He was angry at himself as well. When his eyes settled on something, he dropped everything around him in order to get it.
This time, it was you. He wanted you, and it was costing him his sex life. Since he couldn't have you, he didn't want to be with any other woman out there. He had been texted, even sent nudes to, and he never responded. He probably lost a few of his hook-ups by now, but he really didn't care. This applied to everything in his life. If he wanted a burger for the day, he would not eat anything until he got his burger, even if it were 8 AM.
And so, he hosted a party. Friends of friends came, old colleagues, old clients he met when he first put his shop up. Then his whole pack came over, and his house was filled with people. Yet, his eyes betrayed him each time he glanced your way, and he couldn't help to recognize the spike of spice in your scent. You were angry at something. He also noticed the twitch of your eyebrows. Maybe he could ask what was wrong with you. Maybe it was work-related.
And then, you had to be a bitch.
“And I bet you fucked more than two of the women here, right?”
Why were you angry at him? Why were you acting jealous and possessive when you were the one who wanted to put what happened in the past? Pretend it never even existed. It was you, and you were acting butthurt? No. His nose flared, and if people could detect scent the way he did, everyone in this room would probably leave with fear.
He could feel you watching him, all the time. You were scanning who he was talking to, wrapping his arms around of, and who he left the room with. And you were so stupid to believe he didn't notice. He needed to talk to you, because if you were going to act like this, it meant you didn't want to put anything of what happened in the past.
So, when everyone left, and the only ones that were in the house were his friends and you, he made you stay back. He had strategically moved your coat, hid it, so he would have an excuse. Your eyes found his, and he knew that you realized you were in trouble.
And then when the two of you were finally alone, he couldn't control himself any longer.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
You took a step back from him. He could smell your nervousness, your uncertainty, but most of all, he was surprised to smell arousal. You were wet. His nose flared, his chest rumbled, his mouth drooled. He had to have you, despite you walking away from him, despite you walking up the stairs, despite you yelling at him.
So he kissed you.
And you kissed back.
And then he tasted you, and he became drunk on you. You let him roam your body like you didn't care. Like all of the other times you said this shouldn't happen, never existed. He watched you come undone under his touch, and he was going to make sure to make you remember him. To make you see how good he could make you feel, and you wasted precious time.
But he wasn't prepared. He wasn't prepared for what you did to him. You didn't even flinch when you saw his full length. When he presented and started sleeping around, he knew he was a bit different down there. Some would call it 'lucky', but it was a curse.
When he first had sex, at the age of 17, he hurt the girl. She wasn't a virgin, but he didn't know his size was that different from the others. He was more careful the next time, noting the length he could get in. He didn't want to mention it to Murray, and much less to his uncle, but he felt the need to. Alphas have a rather larger member. They have to because they have what Omegas or Betas do not have. A knot.
A bulge that expands at the base of the penis, so it can lock itself into the willing Omega. This prompts the breeding to be even more successful and a higher chance for the Omega to get pregnant.
Eddie never knotted. Or well, felt it, or remembered it. His presentation was a blur of pain, of sweat, of burning, of excruciating pain that he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Murray said that he was knotting when he presented, but Eddie really didn't remember it. But that was the reason why he was larger than the average Beta. There was a part of his penis that was supposed to enlarge, but since Betas don't have the expanded cavity to take an Alpha's member, they hurt in the process.
So he never bottomed out on anyone. He couldn't. If he did, he would pierce their cervix, and he had to make sure not to get carried away at any time. He gladly never did with his ruts, except for the typical headaches, but that was about it until he came and had a bit of action. But he was never satisfied. He doesn't remember a single time when he enjoyed himself during sex.
And now, here you were, sucking his cock without any fear.
He got his dick sucked a few times, but most of the girls flinch at the sight. They obviously know they cannot deep throat him, or at least are not willing to try. If he had his dick sucked, it was kitten licks, or his tip was sucked on, but no more than that.
But fuck, you were gurgling on him, your drool all over him, dripping down on his balls, and you looked like you were enjoying it. His eyes widened as his body arched the moment he hit the back of your throat. You tried to hold it for a few seconds, but gagged and pulled him out. He let a sharp breath out, his mind already reeling. Shit, shit, shit.
He was losing control.
It was the first time he felt this happening. It was the first time he felt himself burn with such intensity that he wanted to consume someone else in it as well. He took a deep breath in before he sat up, and you pulled his dick out of your mouth with a triumphant look on your face. He put the condom on, his eyes never leaving yours, asking in silence if you were okay with it.
His hands moved to grab onto you so he could roll you over, ready to tell you that he will be careful not to hurt you, to tell him when to stop. But he was pushed back, and his eyes widened in surprise when you started straddling him.
What the fuck were you doing?
“Sweetheart– Peach– Listen–” And you glared at him. You literally glared for him to shut up, and he couldn't let you go down, but he hissed when you rolled yourself against his dick.
“You regretting this, Munson?” Hell no, but you were going to be if you didn't stop. You were going to be in pain if you didn't let him take the lead. He tried stopping you by digging his hands into your hips.
“No, fuck no, Peach, but I have to warn you–” And he choked on his breath when he started feeling his tip going inside of you, and he was in flames. It was burning him all over, and he was trying to calm himself, calm his mind before he lost it completely. Shit, shit, shit, you weren't listening to him. You weren't stopping at all. Your face was contorted in pleasure just by this, and he was fighting with himself not to push his hips upwards. “Sweetheart– It won’t–”
“Shut up Eddie, for fuck sake–” He felt your nails digging into his chest, scratching him, and his eyes went towards where he was disappearing inside of you. Inch by inch. As much as he wanted this moment to happen, he didn't want to hurt you. You were halfway there, and you were reaching the point where he could pierce you. He was gasping for air, trying to sound alarmed.
“Shit– Shit–!” He called your name again, trying to get your attention as he felt a bead of sweat drip from his forehead. It felt good. It felt so good, and his body was betraying him. He could push you off of him, but he didn't want to stop. He tried, through jagged breaths, again, one last time.
“Munson–!” And then you slammed down.
And he saw stars. His eyes widened, and all he could see was white. He never felt like this. He was shocked and a little terrified. He didn't know how he would react to this new scene. But did he hurt you? Were you in your own right mind? So, his eyes went back to you as he coughed out his breath, and fuck, you were a sight.
Your face was contorted with pleasure, smiling, feeling content. Your scent spiked up in levels he had never smelled on you before. You felt good. Fuck, you were feeling good. You weren't in pain. How? How were you not in pain? How were you not hurt by him? How was this happening? Was he dreaming?
But he didn't have time to think that you started moving, up, down, up, down, and all he saw was his entire cock disappearing inside of you, and something inside him awakened. Something he never felt before. Something that was trying to rip from the inside out. And he showed you so.
He fucked you, and railed you, ruined you. He needed to claim every inch of your body.
He wasn't going to let this go this easily. No.
“You take me so well, Peach… fuck– you take me so fucking well–” And you didn't even know how much that meant to him. You didn't have the slightest idea as you bounced underneath him, his cock just squelching against you, skin slapping with each powerful thrust of his, finally letting himself go during sex. Finally, not having to worry if the other party gets hurt. He could enjoy himself.
And he was ready to do it over, and over, and over again.
“Then, what is your final answer, Peach? We done here? One time thing, that’s it?” Oh, was he pissed.
He was towering over you when you told him that this was just a slip-up. That this should never happen again. How could you? How could you say that to him when you rode him into oblivion, sucked him off, let him taste you, and let him have you in ways he never imagined?
"I—" He noticed the hesitation; rather, he smelled it on you. You wanted him, that's for sure. He understood the part of getting attached, and if something went wrong, he got it. But it didn't have to go that deep. It was just sex. And he needed this sex. He needed you. You just didn't understand how much.
But he can't force you.
So he let you go, but he told you to keep your distance because he needed time to fucking recover. How is anyone ever going to compare to you? Was someone out there that had your same… pussy? Or whatever? He will kill himself if you are the only one in this world who could take him. He literally will.
So he stopped the messaging, he stopped the talking, he stopped looking at your instagram. He needed to forget you, somehow, and it was bordering on impossible. But he kept himself strong. He kept his distance from you, but then, he remembered Argyle's birthday. He was going to see you after having his dick inside of you. That was gonna be a challenge.
But then, when he arrived, he could already sense you. He already knew you were nervous the moment he walked into the kitchen. He also sensed how everyone was laughing or feeling a little curious about something.
“Robin said that since Eddie’s party, she–” And Jonathan pointed a nod your way, and he heard you wince, ”--has been in a special mood at work and now we found out why.”
You were looking at him wide eyed, and he was already fuming. You told them about the two of you, and you were the one who didn't want to make things weird? To basically not tell anyone? His fingertips itched the more he looked at you, the more he remembered, the more he felt—
“She just told us Jeff came to pick her up that night after we left.” Steve interrupted and— Oh.
Oh, that was rich. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh so fucking loud, all he mumbled was "Jeff?" and it was enough for you to whip your head around to look at him, and he couldn't help the smirk forming on his lips. So, you lied.
“It wasn’t that good.” That was not something you should have said. That is something that should not have come out of your mouth. A mouth that yelled his name while moaning, breathlessly panting as he thrusted in and out of you. A mouth that had him. Tasted him with delight. And now you were lying, saying it wasn't that good?
So he followed your bantering. He continued it. You continued it. You both did, and it almost sounded as if it were a year ago. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all, but it was better than wanting you. It was better than desiring you. It was better to keep you as far away as he possibly could.
So maybe he should throw his luck at the club tonight. He knew you were watching him, your eyes following his movements. Following who he was talking to, or drinking with. He could smell you from across the dance floor. He had to stop. He had to fucking stop. You didn't want it, you were clear, but your signals were all over the place. He knew what you truly wanted, but you were not acting on your instincts, and it was driving him mad.
Because all he knew, all he was taught, was that instincts were important for an Alpha.
But you weren't one, nor an Omega. So he had to understand that your mind was a little more rational than his was. So he disappeared from your sight, just because he couldn't have you close any longer. He saved you from a creep, and that was about it.
A woman sat beside him, a good-looking one. He pretended to be interested, scented the arousal from her instantly, and also some liquor. He could try. It wasn't going to be the same, and it would suck, but he could try. So he flirted back. She wasn't entertaining in the slightest. He could smell you for a moment, and he thought he was crazy because it was a little sour. As if you were distressed.
He paid it no mind,
"So, you with someone tonight, handsome?" She tried to play sexy, and he noticed she was a little older than he was.
"No, not really. How about you?" He wanted to. He wanted someone else tonight, but he couldn't have her, so, he would settle for this random ass woman.
"Not at all. But would love to spend the rest of it with you, if you don't mind." He played off a flirty smile, the best he could, but then, his shoulder was tapped. His eyes widened in surprise when he turned around to find you looking at him with those eyes that drove him a little mad.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt, um– I– I feel sick…”
He would be able to smell it if you were sick. You weren't. You were lying. He felt his chest puff with pride, with accomplishment. You kept lying, telling him to take you home, and he could guess the jealousy that was spurring inside of you.
He dismissed the girl, not caring; he didn't even remember her name. All of his focus was on you, and you only. His lungs were filled with you, his eyes were raking your form, his hands were itching to touch you again. He wanted to grab you over the console, pull you onto him, make you a babbling mess that you wouldn't even remember your fucking name—
“Y-Yeah… I’m honestly feeling icky. Nauseous and stuff.” And he frowned, his gut already turning with a bad feeling, an awful taste in his mouth at your words. Were you serious? No, he definitely knows you are lying.
“Wait, you’re actually sick?”
“Yeah, I was– in the bathroom trying not to puke before talking to you.”
“You– Oh my fucking god!”
He had never been angrier. He could smell you wanting him, and you made him waste an opportunity to get laid. You did it on purpose, and you were denying it. Why were you fucking denying it? Why were you acting like this? Why weren't you doing what you wanted to do to him? He was trying to be understanding this past week, but what you just did made no sense.
He was fuming. He was angry. He wanted to rip your clothes off and mark you, dig his teeth, his fangs, all over your body to show you that you couldn't deny how good you felt with him.
But he didn't need to do that.
Because you were on him a second later. Another one, and he was inside you. And the world made a little more sense just then.
Weeks passed. He didn't see you every day, but it was like he couldn't go without being inside of you for more than two days. Maybe three.
He couldn't care less about other women. He wasn't going to tell you about that aspect because he didn't want you to misunderstand, and there was no way in hell he would tell you about what he really was. If he told you— If he told you what he was—
But your lie with Jeff kept going. You had to pretend the one you were fucking was Jeff, and not him. And then, the mother fucker of Harrington had to come into his workplace, at the same time you did, and you had to put on a show. A stupid fucking show that was making his insides burn, and all of his atoms were clashing with one another.
Then Steve had to pull him away, shove him into his office where he couldn't see you, watch over you, smell you properly. He didn't know what you were feeling or doing, and it was making his skin itch. Steve was curious, trying to talk to him, asking him questions about the girl he was hooking up with.
And Eddie didn't lie, except for the name.
“Are you exclusive to each other?”
That question shook every nerve ending of his body. You certainly weren't, but the thought of someone else grabbing you, tasting you, was making his hands turn into fists, and his chest rumbled with anger. He could feel it vibrating, a small growl that got trapped at the back of his throat.
And then he saw you with Jeff.
And he lost it.
This never happened to him. He never thought he would lose his cool this way. He never thought he would be this rough with you, this possessive, and he didn't understand. Why with you? Why? Was it just because of how good he felt with you? Because you couldn't compare to anyone else he had been with? Because you felt amazing?
He didn't know. He didn't.
But all he knew was that he had to make sure you knew. He wanted to hear it from your mouth. He wanted to make sure you were his. He didn't understand it, but he needed to hear it. So as he fucked you into the desk, he looked into your eyes, your teary eyes that were looking at him as if he had hung the stars in the sky,
“Look at you… yeah, I’m the only one that can make you feel like this, Peach.” And it took some tries because of how cock drunk you were, but finally, you yelled it out,
“You! Just you Eds– Fuck, just you–”
And for now, that was all he cared about.
It was, wasn't it?
He noticed the sadness radiating from you. There was a hint of excitement, and you were trying to disguise some sourness that was creeping in the back. You were sitting next to him in the bar booth, celebrating that your CEO had selected you for training, to take over the company when the moment came.
“Congrats, Peach. You deserve that.” His voice was genuine, and he could feel himself growing joyous about your achievement. You smiled at him, eyes that told him something he wasn't sure if he was getting it right. He got lost in them for a second too long, and— Were your eyes this beautiful before?
And then, Nancy spoke,
“Why are you going into training, though?” And your scent went bitter. Something was wrong. Something was not right. Robin flinched, and his eye caught it. She opened her mouth, and you were gone in an instant. His eyes followed you, a pair of magnets you never noticed you had on your back.
Robin sighed, looking down, and Eddie's eyes immediately looked at her. Nancy grabbed Robin's hand, a frown etched in her eyebrows in question.
"Robin?" He spoke, catching the girl's attention. He could smell how distraught Robin was for you, and he felt a hole being punched into his stomach with dread.
"There was… a pregnant woman today… A client." Nancy's eyes widened, and he sat there as he took that information in. That was probably not easy for you. That was probably something you could barely handle.
"Oh… That—" Nancy said, and when Robin's mouth opened again to continue, he could feel himself growing a sweat, his fingertips blazing as he knew something else was hurting you. Something else was making you feel horrible, making you think stuff you shouldn't.
"Liana is pregnant. She is going into maternity leave in a month."
The world fell silent for Eddie. He could see Nancy talking, asking for details, looking back to see if you were coming back to the table, and he was still processing what Robin just told him. You were given a great position, a great opportunity… at the cost of your biggest insecurity. His heart felt like it was ripping itself apart, and he needed to go after you. He needed to hold you. He needed to reassure you that everything was going to be fine.
That he was going to make it right.
And then he scented it. His nose flared, the whiff of smoke, acid, distress, anger just filling his lungs. Your anger. Your sadness. Your fury. He immediately got up from the booth and marched towards the bar where you were getting drinks. Something was not right. Something was happening to you right this second, and he needed to protect you from whatever that was.
Or who it was.
A blonde man, striking a conversation with you, and your face was one of disgust, but a pained frown remained. A betrayed look in your eyes. He was speaking, and Eddie's nose scrunched at his smell. Disgusting. Fucking disgusting. You weren't comfortable, and he wasn't backing away.
So Eddie interfered.
His eyes were going towards you, then back at the man, wanting to be filled in with the situation. Was he flirting with you, and he wasn't understanding no for an answer? Was he an old client you didn't want to meet up with anymore? But no. There was more. He could smell it. He could feel every blood cell in his body burn with the need, for whatever reason, to beat this man to the ground, until he would gargle in his own blood.
“I’m Henry. Um… Her Ex-Husband. Old friend.”
The man who had betrayed you in the most horrible of ways. The man who had broken you body and soul. The man who made you believe you wouldn't have a chance to have a family ever again. The man who chose your own childhood best friend over you. The man who stole everything from you.
And Eddie saw red. Pure, bloody, animalistic red.
He could feel himself moving, but he couldn't feel himself thinking. He couldn't. There wasn't a rational thought as his head collided with the other man's. As his fist connected with his chin and knocked him down. As he straddled him and pinned him to the ground. As fist after fist exploded into the man's face. There was cracking, there sure was, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop himself.
He couldn't hear, he couldn't see past the man that was now under him, bloodied, cheeks and nose broken, and he just kept punching. He could hear the people yelling at him, Jonathan trying to pull him off, your voice a distant chime. And then he could see Henry's eyes open, and Eddie could see the fear. He could see it, feel it, smell it underneath the blood, the sweat, the drool.
His fangs were out, and he was growling into the blonde man's face.
Because how dare he even speak to you? How dare he fucking look at you after what he had done?
How dare he harm what was his?
And he finally got pulled away by four men. His surroundings came back to him in a strong wave, and his eyes clashed with your face. You were on the verge of tears. You were calling out to him, and Eddie didn't even know if you noticed you were doing it. Nancy and Robin were yelling, but now his senses were back to you. His rationality came back to him. He looked back down to see Henry writhing, holding his face as people surrounded him.
"You need to get the fuck out, Eddie." Jonathan sneered, and honestly, Eddie didn't even care that his friend was kicking him out. He knew he had to leave because right now, you were more important. He could feel the panic that was setting in you, and Robin rushed to your side, holding onto you, murmuring that you all needed to leave.
He followed instantly, grabbing Jonathan's rug from the bar to wipe his hands off, trying to get that bastard's blood off his skin. His feet rushed to your side, Robin and Nancy were holding you as they walked towards his car. He opened the passenger's seat and made you get inside. Your gaze was lost, not crying, and he knew you were holding it in. This wasn't the first time you did this. His stomach plummeted as you were unresponsive, just staring out into the windshield.
They all got in the car, and Eddie started driving. He didn't want to leave you alone. He couldn't. Maybe he can drop Nancy and Robin off, and leave you last, or maybe he can leave you first, then the other two, and then go back to your house. Whether you liked it or not, he wasn't going to leave you alone. Not tonight.
“I want to be alone.” And your eyes found his. You needed him. You needed him beside you. He gave a nod as Robin asked you questions, wondering if it was the right thing to do. He sped up, his adrenaline of getting you alone and making you feel safe was rushing into him in waves. He had to make sure you were going to be okay. He needed to.
He dropped the other two girls off first, and before Robin got out of the car, she spoke to him,
"Make sure she is safe."
And she didn't know that he was going to do more than that. He was going to try to make you feel better, to bring the joy back to your face. He wanted to see your smile. But he knew he needed to make you vent, to make you talk, to make that sadness come out of your chest before it consumed you.
They arrived at your home, and he helped you out of his car and up to your apartment. As soon as you two got in, you went to your couch, and he closed the door behind him.
“Peach… are you alright?” And he knew you weren't. He sat down next to you, wanting to rest his hand on your knee, comfort you, but then he felt you move.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” And you were straddling him, kissing him, and his mind was a mess. His hands held onto you, and this was not right. Your scent was not that of arousal. It was desperate, deliberate, and he didn't want it to be like this. This isn't what you needed.
He tried stopping you once, but you kept rubbing on him, and he was only human. He cursed at himself for reacting the way he did when you were like this. So he tried again. And then, he heard your voice, broken, trying to disguise feelings that he knew were destroying you. So he grabbed onto your biceps, pulling you away from him. His eyes filled with worry, and his chest held in a rumble, a whimper on seeing that broken look on your face. One you were trying to hold back.
“You don’t need this. You don’t need me like this… You need something else, Peach… I can give that too.”
And you broke. You sobbed into his chest, and he held you tightly. He hurt to see you this way, to hear you like this. He has heard you only one time sobbing this way, and it was because of the same reason. He didn't want you to feel like this anymore. You didn't deserve it. Any of it.
He caressed your hair, your cheek, your sides, your back, and he could feel you trembling underneath him. His shoulder must be soaked, your makeup is surely smudged, but he preferred this. He preferred you breaking, letting these emotions out, than holding them in. Because he was now there to hold you and to care for you.
“I’m here, Peach… I got you, baby. I got you.”
And the next day of that, you kissed his knuckles. The bruised knuckles that punched your ex-husband's skull in. And he could feel something coming up inside of him, something he never thought he would feel. Something he once thought he would be able to live without.
But the more he watched you, looked at you, and heard you, he realized that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe there could be a chance for him not to end up all alone. But why with you? Why did he have this feeling with you? Was it him? Was it his heart? Was it his condition? It didn't matter. It didn't, because as soon as the feeling came, his lips formed a deal. Something he meant, but should have never left his brain.
“When we turn 30, and if we are single… I’ll give you one.”
It felt like the world stopped, and you were just staring at him, stuttering words as if what he was saying was true. His eyes scanned your face, then your body for a second, and he felt a shock running through his spine. Something was trying to pull him towards you, to grab you, tell you that he could give you more. But why? Why?
“Why… I– You would have a kid… You are willing to have a baby with me? You don’t have to feel… sorry for me…” Your voice was broken, and he could feel his fingers burning, and not because of his bruises. He moved them a little bit to try to get the sensation off to no avail. Why were you doubting it? Why did you think he didn't mean it? He didn't want you to think that. Fuck, but he shouldn't do this. Why is he doing this?
“I want kids. I want a family too someday, and I honestly– Don’t think…” 'I would ever have a partner.' He wanted to say. But you would ask questions. You would ask him why he thinks he would be all alone until the end of time. He wasn't ready to answer any of that; it wasn't in his plans to ever tell you what he truly was. "And I think that you would be the greatest mom in the entire world, so… it’s a win-win for me.”
And when you slowly started to smile. That damn smile that shook his entire floor, that he didn't know was slowly caving in. He could feel warmth coming out of your hand when he grabbed onto it, and your scent turned sweet. Like peaches. His eyes drifted to your belly. He would have to wait three years. He hoped you would still be single by that time.
Because you would look good.
Fuck, you would look real good.
The moment the question settled in his mind, he dropped everything, turning off the sink.
Were you meaning what he thinks you were meaning? Did you ask that question because you wanted— Oh shit.
"Fuck." He grabbed himself onto the sink, fingers gripping against the counter as he felt his body burning, aching, and his limbs were trying to make him run up the stairs. Shit. Shit. Shit. He never felt like this. But he had to make sure this was what he thought it was. That you asked because you wanted him in a way he never thought he'd be with someone.
But he didn't know why he felt like he was losing control. He had to calm himself down or else, he was afraid of what would happen to him, or worse, to you. He took deep breaths in, but that was worse because he could smell the arousal, but with a hint of sourness coming from upstairs. Shit. You definitely meant it that way, and he took a while to get it.
Because he never thought he would have this chance.
He always used condoms because of possible illnesses. He would never go raw on someone. So, he never came inside of anyone, and obviously, as an Alpha, that need had always been there. To mark someone. To breed. It was in his nature. Something he pushed away because it would never happen, because he would never have someone he would trust that much to do so.
And now, there was you. Who was waiting patiently upstairs, probably upset because you thought he didn't want it, when, poor you, it was the whole other way around. He was curious. So curious. He was yearning for it, clutching at his chest to try to stabilize his breathing. He shouldn't. He shouldn't. If he did, he would never let you go. He would never let you walk away if you ever decided to do so. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He straightened up, his nose flaring. A surge of warmth rushed over his body, calling out to you. Possessiveness. You were his. Why would he even LET YOU walk away? Over his dead fucking body.
And then, when he was upstairs, your body embraced by his arms, his body pressing against yours from behind, his hips calling for yours. You were breathing heavily, your arousal scaling every second, and you smelled so fucking sweet and intoxicating, and he felt like he was losing his goddamn mind.
“Since you got tested… have you been with anybody else?” You asked.
“I have not.” And he could feel you relax a bit in his hold, and it felt so good, even if it sounded selfish, that you were worried he had been with others. But now, the question goes back at you, something he had wondered, but always known… Because he never smelled someone else on you. "You?"
And your eyes locked with his, and he was a gone man.
“I have not.”
It was an impulse. Throwing you into the bed to manhandle you, take you in whichever way he wanted, but he wanted you to say it. He wanted you to tell him what you wanted. You bounced on the bed after his push, and he crawled on top of you. His hand was grabbing your chin, forcefully, making you look at him.
“Are you telling me you want me to fuck you raw?”
And he held a breath in. He could see the need in your eyes, in the way you were breathing, in the way your body was responding to his. Fuck, he needed to take you. He needed to fuck you until you couldn't walk straight. He needed to see his cum dripping out of you. See his claim on you.
“I– I never said–” And he wasn't in a playful mood today. Not now. You shouldn't be a brat right now. You should obey him. You should follow every single command he gives. So he growled, and a glare was directed your way.
“I am not playing games right now. So tell me what you want before I lose my fucking patience, Peach.”
“I… I want to feel you cum inside of me, Eddie.”
Your eyes were glossy with lust, and his body trembled at your words. You were giving him the green light. Something he had always wanted to do. Something he thought he'd never get to experience. And here you were… With open legs, and a willing cunt that could take all of him.
“You have no idea what you just did.”
Then it was a blur. It was as if some kind of beast controlled his body. He tasted you, savored you, fingered you, took a climax of yours into his throat, and nothing was satiating him. Nothing. So many words that he never meant to say out loud came to life. So many things that probably would not make sense to you if you weren't so cock drunk.
“Don’t order me. Not tonight.”
“I’m going to fucking ruin you, Peach.”
“Keep your ass up.”
“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself. You will cum when I tell you to.”
You were presenting yourself. A position Omegas do to Alphas to offer their bodies, their wombs, their souls. A sign of mating. And you didn't even know. Your upper body down, your ass in the air, and that was driving him insane. His fangs were enlarging. His eyes were focused on a particular spot on your body. He couldn't look away as he pounded into you, ordering you not to cum. Ordering you to wait for him.
Because he was close, and he could feel the base of his cock burning, aching, throbbing. He wasn't going to knot, he couldn't. The medicine prevented it. But he was losing control as his fingers dug into your waist, and he started moving downwards as the thrusts became fierce, feral. His eyes were still glued to that spot as you moaned his name, as you begged for mercy to let you cum.
“Cum. Cum now–”
And when you engulfed him completely, clenched around that area that was scorching hot, he felt his chest thump aggressively. His body trembled, shook as spurt after spurt came out. His mouth was against something, and he growled as you cried. He felt like he had been gone for an eternity, but the fact that his seed was inside of you, and not inside of some stupid latex protection, was satiating him, finally.
And then one more growl.
Because he knew that it wasn't going to take.
You were radiant.
He was happy. He let you look into his photo album. He let you caress him. He let you kiss his cheeks. He helped you with work and you helped him. He asked you to spend another night because, he couldn't part with you. Not yet…
And then, Robin and Steve…
And Steve fucked everything up. Made him think stuff that made him doubt everything he was.
Then his uncle. His uncle Wayne. Seeing you with his uncle, laughing with him, smiling, and then— then— You holding a baby. You, holding a child. You were born for it. You were born to be a mom.
But not just for any child. No. That baby, he wanted that baby to be his.
And he knew he was doomed.
And everything Steve said, was thrown out the window.
Pain.
Pain.
Pain.
The only person in his life who had cared for him since little was gone. The one person who had been by Eddie's side was no longer in this world. The one person that Eddie saw as true family is no longer with him. His true father.
Wayne was gone. Wayne was truly gone. And Eddie was spiraling. He didn't want anyone at his funeral. He was not supposed to break. Alphas are not vulnerable. They are made to protect, and he wasn't the exception. He couldn't even invite Steve to the wake. He didn't want anybody to see this, to see him.
And then when he came back to Hawkins, you were there, with Robin and Steve. Worried. He tried to keep calm, but there was that magnet again. That pull that screamed at him that he needed you. That you had to stay with him. He never felt that with Steve, and now, it's almost painful to be apart from you. It wasn't until he saw you again that he realized just how much he'd missed you. How much he had fucked up by not telling you to come to him.
And he tried letting the three of you go. He really tried. He was supposed to be everyone's pillar. He was the Alpha of his pack, and he was the one who comforted everyone and helped. But his lip trembled as he heard the door open behind his back, and his body instinctively turned around, going to the one person he needed the most. The one person whose body ached to hold the most. The one person he realized he couldn't live without any longer.
You.
And you stayed. You made sure to stay. He felt safe with you, as if you were a warm blanket. You held him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. You comforted him as if he were a child. Washing his hair, making him food, stroking his hair, his back, while he cried on your chest. You embraced him, held him, and he felt safe. He felt protected by you.
You.
You.
You.
Mine.
“Say you’re mine…” His eyes showed an intensity like never before, and you were still in awe at the whole situation. He gulped, scanning your face as he waited for your answer. “I need to hear it… I need to hear you say you’re mine and mine only, sweetheart.”
“I’m yours, Eds… Just yours…”
And that will have to count as a bite mark.
It will have to.
Your eyes were fixated on him, the shock of what had just been revealed still trying to sit in your mind.
An Alpha?
You scoffed a bit, nervous, not really knowing what to think, or what to even say from the shock.
"You— No, that's— That's impossible, Alphas— They are—"
"Extinct… I know…" He whispered softly, looking at you with a worried frown on his face. He could see your eyes going back and forth, how your knee started bouncing, how your breathing quickened, hitched, as the gears processed in your head.
Eddie is an Alpha. A designation that was believed extinct, long gone, as well as Omegas. You stood up from the bed, and you started to pace in the room, trying to get your thoughts together. This wasn't a lie. Eddie would not lie about this. What would he gain from it? Nothing. But this didn't make any sense. Why did he—
You stopped on your tracks, slowly turning to face him. Your heart was in your eyes as his gaze was still fixed on you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he waited for you to talk. To say something. To ask anything.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He sighed, looking down at his lap. He had to be honest with you. If he wanted to keep you, if he wanted what he always thought he would never have, with you, then he'll have to be straightforward.
"Because, if what I am gets out, I would become a lab rat. The fewer people who knew, the better. If I get targeted, my pack gets targeted."
"Pack?" You asked, still trying to wrap your head around what he was saying. A lab rat? Then what was this place?
"Before, our groups were called packs. It wasn't just… friend groups, or family groups. You belonged to a pack." He explained, and you rubbed your forehead as you felt a migraine starting to kick in. This information was making you dizzy because you didn't understand anything, and you were so confused, and you just didn't know what to think— "Sweetheart…"
His soft voice pulled you out of your pacing, out of your mind place. You turned to face him, and he had a look of sadness displayed on his features. Your heart stopped a bit, wondering why he was pulling such a face. You took a deep breath in, shaking your head.
"Eddie—"
"If you cannot be with someone like me… If you don't want to deal with it… You are free to walk away."
The universe stopped.
What?
Before you knew it, you were moving towards him, holding his face in between your hands. You didn't understand anything, you were hurt, you weren't told a thing, you were confused, you were afraid because you didn't know what anything of this meant for your future, but there was one thing you knew. You couldn't live without Eddie.
"I don't care what you are. You are still the asshole, cocky, son of a bitch metalhead I met a year ago… and my boyfriend. I just—" You clenched your jaw, feeling tears filling your eyes. His eyes were gazing up at you, and he wanted to nuzzle you. He wanted to scent you. He wanted to comfort you. His heart was in his ears as he heard your words, chest warming up.
"So you're staying?" His voice was almost small, vulnerable, and it reminded you of a week ago. He looked afraid of losing you. You nodded at him, pressing your forehead against him.
"I just— I just need some explanations—"
"Aaand I am here for that." The door slammed open, and you snapped your head over your shoulder, seeing Murray smiling innocently with a chart in his hand, a nurse behind him with a tray in his hands. "What a nice, comforting display. May I butt in for a second?"
You heard a growl coming from Eddie, and now you heard it for what it truly was. Your face turned to see him staring at Murray, and your hand went without thinking towards his chest. It was vibrating. All this time, you thought you were hallucinating. That your brain was playing tricks on you. But it wasn't. Eddie was growling, almost like an animal. His eyes went towards you again, his features relaxing instantly. You heard Murray hum in thought, as he wrote in his chart.
You gulped, letting go of Eddie's face, and instead holding his hand. You stood next to him and looked at the doctor before you. You could feel your stomach turning with nerves, with emotions that were bordering on a panic attack.
"Who are you? What is this place?" You asked. Eddie talked about being a lab rat, but this clinic, this place, weren't they doing exactly that?
"I think I introduced myself already—"
"Murray." Eddie's low voice came back, and his hand clenched yours for a second. A chill ran down your spine, hearing that low tone you heard hours ago again.
"Jeez. Okay, okay. If you didn't notice, this isn't your typical… hospital." The bald man explained, and you raised an eyebrow in question.
"Meaning?"
"We are not governmental. They don't know about us. That's why I warned you to never talk about it, outside of this building, of course." He gave a fake smile as you blinked, trying to swallow this information in. You opened your mouth again, and the nurse stepped forward, holding a tray in his hands.
"Sir?" Murray turned to look, seeing a syringe and some tube samples on it.
"Oh yes." He turned back at you, tilting his head. "Do you mind if we take some blood samples from you?"
Your heart skipped a beat, frowning because— Why the fuck did they need that? What did you have to do with any of that? Eddie's head whipped back to Murray, his face filled with confusion and some worry.
"Why do you need her blood? She is fine." Eddie started, and Murray raised a hand to make him stop talking, which only made Eddie snarl at the man.
"Oh, quit those Alpha noises. You ain't scaring me." He grabbed the syringe and the tubes, walking towards you. "Look, it's scary… But I need to confirm something."
"Confirm what?" You asked, looking at how the man was studying you behind his glasses. He hesitated for a second, his eyes looking at Eddie for a moment, and then back at you.
"You… aren't supposed to be able to… take him." You felt heat creeping up on your cheeks, opening your mouth to begin insulting the man before you for talking about your privacy like that, but he stopped you once again. "I need to see if you have Omegan traits."
The world fell silent. Eddie's breathing stopped. You? An Omega? No, it was… impossible, wasn't it? Your eyes were looking at the man before you, while Eddie's were fixed on his own lap. His mind was racing, trying to make sense to the doctor's words.
"I— I can't be an Omega… I— I am not fertile, I—"
"Look, it's just… You are defying everything I've ever known of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. I will explain later, but first, I need your blood. It'll take only a couple of minutes." He tried again, and you could hear ringing in your ears, the gears in your brain trying to work, but not finding the right slot so they could move.
But what if you were?
Your arm immediately shot out, giving it to Murray. Eddie's eyes widened, and the doctor sighed, cleaning your arm with the cotton and alcohol the Nurse had in his tray. You winced slightly as he took a sample of your blood, getting it into the test tube. He pressed a cotton to the little puncture, and you let go of Eddie's hand to hold it in place. Murray put everything on the tray again, including your blood.
"We look for O-45?" The nurse asked, and Murray nodded.
"And OG32." The nurse nodded towards you and walked out of the room. You were frowning, looking at the arm blood had been taken from. Hope rose in your chest, and you didn't know why. "Betas are not supposed to be able to take an Alpha's member."
Eddie's eyes turned to the doctor, sitting straighter despite the burning in his belly. The medicine was still kicking in his system, so his instincts were still a bit in a frenzy.
"I just thought it was a possibility that she was just… different than the rest." Murray glared at your boyfriend, pointing a finger at him.
"And you should have told me, and I would have told you that it isn't possible!" His voice raised slightly, and you were beginning to grow a little infuriated. You were still being left in the dark, not receiving any answers, but just making you have more questions.
"Can someone, any of you two, explain SHIT to me!?" Both men turned to look at you, a bit surprised. Murray cleared his throat, his hands gesturing as he explained.
"Like I said, you are supposed to be in pain taking someone his size. He is larger than the average Beta, because his member is supposed to have a knot at the base." And his explanation was still very vague, very fresh, very weird. Impossible. You threw the cotton ball in the trash can, turning to both men again.
"A knot? So, it was real? Everything in the anatomy books they taught us in school was true?" You could feel some anxiety creeping in. It was always hard to believe those books when you were at school. It looked surreal, and you couldn't believe there was a time when your bodies possessed anatomies like those.
"Of course they are! That's why they're taught!" You frowned, looking at Eddie then.
"But you never… had… that when we…" You felt your ears burn, not wanting to say anything more with the other man in the room. Eddie nodded a bit, clearing his throat.
"It was the medicine." You kept looking at him, searching for more answers. "The medicine helps with keeping my instincts at bay. They're suppressants."
"Suppressants?" He nodded, and then Murray talked again.
"They help with keeping his Alpha traits hidden, making him look and act like a Beta. If he didn't have those… Well, you saw what happened today, Missy." You were still confused, so confused. You rubbed your forehead, sitting down on the chair that was in front of the bed.
"What kind of traits?" You asked, and Eddie took a sharp breath, looking at the doctor. The bald man tapped on the chart, pacing in the room.
"Aggressiveness. Fangs coming out. Growling. Unbelievable strength… And a desperate need to satiate himself if he is close to his rut." Everything started making a bit more sense. Some of his actions, or words, how hard he beat Henry, how hard he had pushed Billy when you broke up with him, and he was grabbing you. Wait, rut?
"Rut?" Eddie felt his cheek flush, and Murray smirked, waiting for the metalhead to give that answer. Eddie groaned, glaring at him for a second before looking back at you.
"It's my… breeding season." You blinked a few times, staring at him as if he had grown a second head.
"Breeding season? Like animals?" And Murray cut in, a cheeky smile on his face.
"We were all animals once, sweetheart. But, yes, like animals. Omegas had heats, and Alphas had ruts." You remembered reading something like that in school, but everything about this past was very poorly educated because it was something they didn't deem important, because it was supposed to be… a myth.
"But when is that? I mean, were you in a rut in any of the times we were together?" You turned to Eddie, now curious to know if it had happened without your knowledge. He shook his head, and you tilted your head slightly.
"Ruts come every three months… I'm due soon… That's why, today…" Eddie stopped talking, his eyes moving away from yours in shame. He could have hurt you. He could have done something you weren't ready to experience. He could have done things to you that no ordinary Beta could take.
"Today what?" Eddie didn't talk, so Murray sighed, stepping in again.
"When you came back, your scent, your presence, overwhelmed him. You are his partner. His suppressants were not in his system, and his rut is due to start soon. So, when you walked into the room, if you hadn't strapped him down, and if we hadn't arrived in time… Well… It could have gone a little differently than all your other intimate times."
And you remembered how Eddie was looking at you. He looked like he was going to eat you. Like he was going to devour you. His fangs were out, and he was trying to fight against the handcuffs to get to you. You gulped heavily, a cold sweat invading you. How bad could that have ended?
"You wouldn't have been able to recognize me, Peach. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I—" He couldn't finish it. He never experienced a rut outside of his suppressants, and he wasn't going to start now. Not with you. His knot would hurt you… But if you had Omega traits—
"But you didn't… You controlled yourself in order to protect me." You talked, and he sighed in relief, looking at you again. "So… How… Did you handle your ruts?"
"I get headaches, normally. Sometimes nausea… I— I basically slept around." He replied in shame, and you felt the pang of jealousy right in your chest. But then, it made sense. Robin had told you about weekends where Eddie would basically disappear to fuck, and different women at that. Does he still need different women? Wait, were you enough when the time came?
"I—" You didn't know what to say, because your insecurities started creeping in. Eddie opened his mouth, noticing the change in scent.
"But this time I have you to spend it with. It only lasts two days at most, and I really am no different than all the other times… But I do need to satiate myself, or I will get migraines…" You looked at him, and he realized what he said, shaking his head, stuttering, "O-Only if you want to, of course, I am not going to force you—"
"You know you cannot go into a rut without—" Murray interrupted, and Eddie bared his fangs at him.
"I never tried. And I ain't going to force her into—"
"I will do it… Why wouldn't I?" You asked, frowning in question as he looked back at you. Why would he think you wouldn't go through firestorms, blizzards, and tornadoes for him? He stared at you, his heart beating into his throat. Your eyes were still warm as you got punched with information that was completely foreign to you, that until yesterday, you might have believed it would never happen ever again in these modern days.
"Now that THAT is out of the way—" Murray interrupted once again, now making you groan, and Eddie chuckled at your reaction. "You now know his condition, and what he is, and—"
"When did it happen?" You asked this time, looking back at Eddie. He looked back down at his lap as the memories flooded back into his head.
"I presented at sixteen."
And then you remembered the photo album. He didn't have any pictures when he hit that age. There were very few for an entire year… And then his entire self changed. Too mature for seventeen. You couldn't even believe he was that age when you looked at the pictures. Murray kept silent for a second, finally having some respect for Eddie's memories. After a few seconds, he talked again with a sigh.
"I was working at a hospital while managing this research clinic. I was basically undercover to see if hospitals, pharmacies, everything that had involvement with the government, were covering up cases like Edward." He started pacing again, his hands and chart behind his back. "I saw him… and Mr. Munson in a waiting room in Indianapolis."
Mr. Munson. You felt your chest grow heavy, looking at Eddie with sadness in your eyes. He was still not looking at you, starting to talk once again.
"My uncle had taken me to almost every clinic and hospital there was. I was… feverish, overly feverish. I had pains all over my body, my bones felt like they were breaking or bending, and my mind, my consciousness, was slowly drifting away. I didn't feel like myself." He continued, and you got up from the chair, rushing to grab his hand again, your thumb rubbing the top of it. His eyes finally looked up, and you gave him a small smile, wanting him to know you were listening, and you understood how painful it still was for him to talk about his uncle.
Eddie brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently, before he smiled up at you with gratitude. Murray cleared his throat, and you both turned your heads to meet the eyes of the man who, sure, was a genius, but was a pain in the ass.
"I approached them and told them I had a special clinic that might be able to identify what Edward was having. Wayne was desperate, so he agreed… I didn't want them to be in a hospital any longer, afraid they might take them both away if they were to discover what he was." You frowned now, shaking your head.
"But wouldn't the blood tests figure it out? You took some of mine to see—"
"Hospitals and clinics do not use those kinds of tests any longer because… Well, Alphas and Omegas are supposed to be extinct… But what if one hospital did have it? Your boyfriend wouldn't be here now." You swallowed the information in, a feeling of dread invading you as the prospect of Eddie being locked up suddenly came to your head. Him, locked up, strapped to a bed, blood taken out of him constantly, experiments being done on him, no, no—
You gasped when you felt two strong hands gripping your right hand tightly, giving you a slight tug. Your eyes found Eddie's worried ones. You hadn't noticed your breathing growing heavy, or how your fingers started twitching, and your eyes were looking everywhere, completely lost.
"I am here, and I'm safe. Murray might be fucking crazy, and look the part, but I promise he doesn't treat me like a lab rat." The bald man scoffed at Eddie's words, but they were enough to make you calm down and feel a bit more grateful for the doctor in the room.
"Okay… Okay… So, he is basically… living a normal life?" You asked, and Murray opened his mouth, only for the nurse to walk back in again with papers in his hands. Your body straightened up, and Eddie's breathing hitched.
What if you were?
Murray grabbed the papers, and the nurse gave a nod to both you and Eddie before walking out of the room. You were standing there, hope in your eyes over a diagnosis that you never really thought of. A diagnosis you never thought you were going to have or even get studies for. A diagnosis that was a complete myth… until today.
And Eddie was there, never having thought of the possibility of meeting an Omega in his life. The fact that you might be one, that you might possess traits of it, might answer so many questions he held in his brain. If you were an Omega, you would be his. He would be able to mate you. He would be able to make you his, forever.
Murray looked at the papers, his eyebrows meeting in the middle, his eyes scanning the letters over and over again.
Your breathing stopped as he read your diagnosis out loud,
"You aren't an Omega."
end of chapter 27
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a/n: i fucked you all over with your theories, didn't i?
I will start deleting people that do not interact with my posts.
In 2022, the person who was zeroed in on as being wholly 'responsible' for bringing Eddie to life was of course Joe. Joe embodied Eddie in such a way that the character punched his way into zeitgeist almost instantly. The craze was real. Eddie was vibrant, vulnerable, and alive. Of course Joe was the person we all felt was responsible.
Three years on, I think Joe was a part of it. But not all of it.
Did the choices Joe made as an actor create Eddie? Yes. But I would argue the words the Duffers wrote, the costumes and wigs the hair and makeup teams labored over, the family atmosphere of ST and the trust and bonding that others like Gaten and Keery brought to the table also contributed to Eddie. Joe created Eddie in what sounded almost like an actor utopia, with tons of money to support amazing narratives, a tight-knit but apparently not cliquish family of actors, showrunners who let him make playful and improvisational choices, and a global pandemic that froze everything in amber. All of these connected pieces conjured Eddie, like Frankenstein's monster except it was perfect.
And then, when ST aired, we created Eddie. We imagined, we remembered, the Eddies we had known or thought we knew. We wrote about Eddie and his desires, we made our edits and GIFs, we shipped him with everyone and anyone. We crushed hard, and we looked for clues in the character because he reminded us of who we are. Eddie stood for the outcasts. The freaks. He was our dorky hero. He took care of the sheep. He sacrificed himself for us.
It's clear three years later that Joe is no longer interested in Eddie. He did the work, he moved on, and he's firmly shut the door. But that's okay. Because the magic of Eddie is ours now and always will be. We can hold Eddie close in our hearts, and we can let Joe walk away. I think he will be relieved when we do.
We're responsible for Eddie Munson. And that's a good thing.
So true. I wasn't into Eddie, honestly. But it was the fics, the plots, the arguments, the decisions, and many more things that the fandom wrote what made me be into him.
summary ~ Eddie is your brother's best friend and he's still a dick.
You woke to the feeling of a body no longer beside you.
The air was cold, still. It smelled like Eddie,cigarettes, worn leather, the faint trace of something warm that lingered in your sheets.
The room was dim with early morning light, and you reached over instinctively, hand brushing over nothing but wrinkled sheets.
Then you saw it, a half-written note, abandoned next to the dented ashtray.
The edges of the paper were smudged, like he'd written something and changed his mind. Next to it: his lighter, the pack of cigarettes that never left his pocket… and one of his rings.
The silver one, the one he always wore on his index finger.
Your heart sank. The note wasn’t even finished. Just a few words scratched in black ink:
"Didn’t mean to... Just thought maybe it’d be better if... "
You sat there for minutes, maybe even longer, staring at the ghost of what he couldn't say.
Your brother found you in the kitchen hours later, still in the same clothes, the ring now sitting on the table in front of you. He didn't say anything at first, just walked over, filled two mugs with coffee, and sat across from you.
"He left, huh?" he asked quietly, not like he didn't know. More like he wanted you to say it.
You nodded.
He leaned back in his chair. "He’s an idiot."
You smiled, barely.
"But I don’t think it’s over. Not really. You don’t leave a ring behind unless it’s gonna haunt you."
You looked up at him.
"You think he’ll come back?"
He didn’t answer right away. Just took a sip of coffee and shrugged.
"I think some people leave ‘cause they’re scared of what staying means. Doesn’t mean they don’t want to stay."
That stuck with you.
A week passed. Quiet and heavy.
Eddie didn’t call, didn’t knock, he only pretended you’re not exist anymore.
But then Friday came.
You were leaving school when you saw them.
Eddie.
And her,again.
She was pretty in that obvious kind of way, blonde, Cheerleader and Laugh too loud.
His arm was draped over her shoulders like it had always belonged there.
Your stomach flipped, your legs kept walking like they didn’t know how to stop, but your chest? Your chest cracked open right in front of the whole school
He didn’t look at you. Not even once.
But you saw it, that same hand he’d left the ring from now curled over someone else body
And just like that, it was like he'd never been in your bed. Like your name had never left his mouth at 3AM. Like you’d imagined the whole goddamn thing.
You didn’t cry.
Not when you got home.
Not when you sat in the shower long enough for the water to go cold.
Instead, you found your old denim jacket, the one Eddie always teased you about.
You shoved his ring into the inner pocket, tucked deep and secret, then you grabbed the pack of cigarettes he’d left and you lit your first one with the lighter he abandoned.
It burned.
But so did he.
Monday came like a nightmare.
You showed up late, lips darker than usual, eyeliner sharp enough to kill someone.
Caleb Dawson offered you a ride home, again. You said yes.
He flirted like it was second nature. and you flirted back like it was armor. You even let him kiss you in the parking lot,It didn’t mean anything.
Eddie heard the rumors before he saw them, that you’d been hanging out with seniors or
that you were smoking now, and the worst, that some guy in a Camaro picked you up after school and you laughed between his kisses the whole ride.
And then he saw it with his own eyes, your back against the wall,Caleb’s arm beside your head. You weren’t kissing, not yet, but it was close.
He froze.
Fingers tightening into fists at his side.
He wanted to rip the air apart.
Instead, he walked away. Fast.
Because if he stood there any longer, he’d say something he couldn’t take back.
Later that night, Eddie sat alone in the garage behind Gareth’s house, the smell of gasoline and dust all around him. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket, the other half of the note he’d left you.
He hadn't finished writing it either.
"Didn’t mean to... Just thought maybe it’d be better if… if I didn’t ruin you."
He folded it again, lit a match and watched the flame eat through the last thing he couldn’t say. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like the villain in his own story.
The sun 's low, the sky's bruised purple, and everyone’s spilling out of the building, laughing, talking, walking home in pairs. You’re walking alone,until you hear his voice behind you.
You were almost to the end of the lot when you heard it.
“Wait!” That voice. That fucking voice.
Your heart stopped, but your feet didn’t, not until you felt him grab your arm.
You yanked it back immediately. “Don’t touch me.” He blinked, his face was flushed, curls wild, breath uneven like he’d run from the other side of the school just to catch you.
“I just, I need to talk”
“Talk?” You laughed, cold and sharp. “Now you wanna talk? A little late, Munson.”
He flinched at the name and you saw it, that flicker of guilt before he straightened his shoulders and tried to hide it behind his usual cocky tilt.
“I didn’t know what else to do, alright? I panicked. I thought leaving was the right thing.”
“No. You thought running was the right thing. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t even finish the goddamn note.” You dug into your bag and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper.
“Didn’t mean to… just thought maybe it’d be better if… ” You shoved it against his chest.
“If what, Eddie? If you disappeared? If I thought I made you leave? That I wasn’t enough?”
“Don’t twist it”
“I’m not twisting shit! I’m fucking living it!”
Now you were both shouting.
“You left me alone in my bed. You left your ring like I was some fucking mistake you were sorry for, or you was just paying me after get what you want?.”
He snapped. “Because I thought I WAS A FUCKING MISTAKE!” His voice cracked like thunder, and it silenced everything else.
You stared.
He stepped back like the truth had gutted him.
“I thought if I stayed, I’d ruin you. That every bad part of me would bleed into your life and stain it.” He was breathing hard now. Hands shaking.
“And I couldn’t watch you shrink around me. I couldn’t… fuck, I couldn’t stand the way I needed you.”
Tears burned your eyes. “So you left me to break alone? While you played pretend with that blonde bitch like I never existed?”
“I kissed her once. I hated every fucking second.”
You laughed bitterly. “Then why’d you do it?”
“Because I saw you with Caleb and it killed me!” His voice dropped again, desperate now.
“You looked happy. You looked free. And I thought,fuck, I thought maybe you’d already moved on.”
“You think that was freedom?” Your voice shook.
“That was me trying not to drown in the silence you left behind. That was me begging for a distraction. I wasn’t okay, Eddie. I’m still not okay.”
You stepped toward him now, eyes burning into his.
“You think I needed saving from you? I didn’t. I needed you to stay. I needed you when I woke up. When I couldn’t breathe. When your ring was the only fucking thing I had left.”
He looked like he was about to fall apart.
That night, you heard it,a soft click of your window, followed by the creak of the sill.
You turned in the dark just in time to see Eddie climbing through, jaw clenched, hair wild. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you whispered. “I know,” he muttered, “but I can’t pretend anymore.”
Before you could speak, he was on you, kissing you like a dying man. His hands tangled in your shirt, pushing you back into the bed like he’d burn without you. “You let Caleb touch you?” he rasped against your throat. You gasped. “Eddie... ”
“Did he kiss you like this?” His hand was already beneath your shirt, warm and rough and shaking,“Did he make you wet like this?”.
You moaned before you could stop it, back arching. “Fuck, baby, no one gets you like I do. Say it.”, you barely managed, “no one.” “Mine,” he groaned, dragging your panties down. “You’re mine. Even when I was stupid enough to walk away.”
He slid inside you in one hard thrust and you both gasped.
"Fuck, you’re tight. So fucking perfect. Did he ever get this close to you?”
“No,god no.” His thrusts were deep, angry, and desperate.
“I see you with him and I wanna break something. I want to break him.” You clenched around him. “You already broke me,” you whispered. His rhythm stuttered. “I’ll fix it. Let me fix it,” he begged, voice cracking as he picked up pace. “I missed you, missed this, fuck, you feel like heaven.” Your nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, and he hissed through his teeth. “Say it again,” he growled.
“I’m yours.”
“That’s right. You’re fucking mine.”
And when you came, it was with his name on your lips and his tears on your collarbone.
The silence that followed was thick, tangled in breathless gasps and the heat of skin pressed too close to ever forget.
Eddie stayed like that, half-draped over you, chest rising and falling against your shoulder, lips brushing the place where your pulse still throbbed beneath your skin. You could feel the tremble in him, the guilt still clinging like a shadow in the corners of his breath.
Neither of you said anything for a while.
Until he spoke, soft, cracked, unsure.
“I didn’t think you’d let me in.”
You stared at the ceiling, eyes burning. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”
He shifted beside you, his hand finding yours over the sheets. “I thought I ruined it.”
You let that hang in the air.
Maybe he did. Maybe not completely.
“I’m not the same girl who cried over your ring,” you murmured.
“I know.”
“And you don’t get to leave and come back every time you get scared.”
His grip on your hand tightened.
“I’m not leaving again,” he said. It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t dramatic. But it felt like a promise scraped out of him.
“You can’t just say that.”
“I’ll prove it.”
You turned your head to look at him. His eyes were already on you, red, glassy, honest in a way you hadn’t seen in weeks.
“I don’t need flowers or songs or big speeches,” you said quietly. “I need the truth. I need you when it’s not convenient. When it’s messy. When I’m too much. When you’re too much.”
“I can be that,” he whispered.
You paused. “You were that. Until you weren’t.”
He flinched. But he didn’t argue.
“I missed you every fucking day,” he said. “I hated myself for leaving. I hated seeing you with him. I hated not being the one to take you home, to kiss you goodnight, to know how you were breathing when you slept.”
Your heart cracked open again. Less destruction and more room to rebuild.
“I’m not saying I forgive you,” you said.
“I’m not asking you to.”
You nodded. “But you’re here.”
“I’m here.”
And maybe that was enough for now.
Later that night, when his breathing evened out and sleep took him, you laid awake beside him, fingers curled around the ring he once left behind. You didn’t put it back on, not yet.
But you didn’t let go of it either. Outside, the sky was still dark.
But for the first time in a long time, the smoke had started to clear.
𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rockstar!eddie munson x famous!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a rockstar, a secret, and the kind of bad decision that tastes like more
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.8k
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: just a lot of cliches probably, smut, mdni, honestly idk i need sleep
𝐚/𝐧: was supposed to be taking exams but ended up in the hospital so i had some downtime, hopefully this will bring some positive energy my way for resits (also a massive shout-out to @littlexdeaths for helping me edit this!!)
There are two fundamental truths that make Eddie Munson into the glorious, unrepentant disaster he is to this day.
One: He couldn’t give less of a shit what the world thinks of him.
Take seventh grade, for example—back when his voice still cracked mid-sentence and his hair was an unholy tangle of DIY bleach jobs, a walking middle finger to both genetics and good taste. He’d been a scrawny thing back then, all sharp elbows and a sharper tongue, but what he lacked in muscle he made up for in sheer audacity. Tommy H., in his puffed-up, wannabe bravado, had cornered him in the locker room after gym class, sweat still gleaming on his forehead like he’d just run a marathon instead of dodging dodgeballs for forty minutes. He’d squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest like a rooster preening for a fight, and sneered, “You’re a waste of space, Munson,” like he’d just invented the insult. Eddie’s response? A slow, shit-eating grin, a lazy glance up through the mess of his bangs: “Takes one to know one.” And then he’d just… walked away. No fists, no shouting, just five words and a smirk. The other kids had gasped, like he’d just pulled the pin on a grenade and tossed it over his shoulder without looking. (He’d found out later that Tommy had punched a locker hard enough to bruise his knuckles. Eddie had worn that knowledge like a badge of honour.)
Or fast-forward to last year, when Gareth somehow—through a combination of dumb luck and family ties that shouldn’t have counted as networking—scored them an appointment with his aunt’s ex-husband’s nephew, who just so happened to be a mid-level A&R guy at Universal Music Group.
The band had collectively lost their shit; Jeff had stress-bought a button-up shirt from some overpriced boutique, then spent twenty minutes in the van trying to figure out how to tuck it in just right so he didn’t look like he was attending his own funeral. Gareth had rehearsed his "professional musician" voice in the mirror until he sounded like a Wikipedia article narrated by a malfunctioning robot. Even Don, who usually had the emotional range of a brick wall, had gone suspiciously quiet, staring out the window with the vaguely nauseous expression of a man mentally preparing to sell his soul. Eddie had simply rolled out of bed that morning, pulled on the same ripped jeans he’d worn the day before, finger-combed his curls into something that defied both gravity and basic hygiene, and strolled into that glass-and-chrome office building smelling faintly of cigarette smoke, cheap diner coffee, and zero fucks given.
The exec—some slick-haired suit with a watch that probably cost more than Eddie’s entire van—had barely looked up from his phone when they walked in. His office was all sharp edges and sterile lighting, the kind of place that made Eddie’s skin itch just by existing.
So Eddie did what Eddie does best.
He cracked his knuckles, dropped into the chair across from the guy like he owned it, and said, "Wanna hear some real shit or what?"
No pretending. No apologies. No watered-down pitch about marketability or brand synergy. Just him—raw, unfiltered, a little too loud, a little too much.
For a long, excruciating moment, the guy just stared at him, eyebrows creeping toward his hairline. Then, he smirked. Leaned back in his stupid ergonomic chair. Muttered something under his breath about "angst sells, I guess" and "decent fucking tunes" before reaching into his briefcase and sliding a contract across the desk. Gareth had nearly choked on his own tongue. Jeff’s carefully tucked-in shirt had come untucked from sheer shock. And Don? Don had actually smiled—an event so rare it should have been documented by National Geographic.
Two: Eddie Munson doesn't get nervous. Never has, never will. It's practically part of his DNA at this point, woven into the fabric of his being as tightly as the faded tattoos on his knuckles and the ever-present smell of leather and Marlboros that clings to his clothes.
Not when Corroded Coffin played their first sold-out stadium show, amps screaming loud enough to shake the teeth in his skull and the foundation beneath their feet. He'd stood at the edge of that stage, sweat dripping down his temples, staring out at a sea of faceless bodies that stretched so far back even the stage lights couldn’t reach them—and instead of freezing up like some wide-eyed rookie, he'd just grinned like the devil himself, cranked the volume higher and played the opening riff of "Blackened Skies".
Not when they were nominated for their first Grammy—or the second or the goddamn third. Each time, he'd strutted up to that mic like he owned the place (and in his mind, he did), tossing off irreverent quips that had the crowd howling. "Guess hell really did freeze over," he'd drawled the first time, dangling the golden gramophone from two fingers like it was a beer he'd just been handed. The camera had caught the exact moment some blue-haired socialite in the front row had choked on her champagne.
Nerves? Nerves are for people who give a shit what others think. For choir boys and politicians and anyone with something to lose. Eddie thrives on the chaos, feeding off it like some kind of beautifully messed-up symbiotic organism. The louder the crowd, the brighter the spotlight, the higher the stakes—that's when he comes alive, electricity crackling under his skin like a live wire just waiting to set the whole damn world on fire.
So why the hell is he suddenly hyperaware of every rumour that clings to him like cheap cologne? America's favourite Casanova. The man who could sweet-talk the habit off a nun with nothing but a crooked grin and a well-timed power chord. Sure, maybe there's some truth to it—he's got charm coiled in his veins like nicotine, confidence that borders on pathological, and absolutely zero shame. Flirting is his native language; he thrives on the electric back-and-forth, the dangerous tilt of a smile, and the way pupils dilate when he crowds just inside someone's personal space like he's got every right to be there.
Five minutes ago, he'd been holding court across the room, spinning that ridiculous story about smuggling a live chicken into the Bellagio as part of a bet with Ozzy's bassist. His hands had painted the scene in the air—the squawking, the feathers in the minibar, the security guard's face when they found the damn thing wearing Eddie's sunglasses. The crowd had eaten it up with fucking spoons because Eddie Munson could make reading the phone book sound like a rock opera if he felt like it. He'd been radiant, incandescent, the human equivalent of a lit match in a fireworks factory.
Now Eddie’s tongue feels like it’s been swapped out for wet cardboard, useless, sticking to the roof of his mouth as if his body’s forgotten how to function. His fingers twitch at his sides, restless, aching for the familiar weight of a guitar pick between them, the grounding burn of a cigarette, anything to steady himself as the world tilts violently beneath his feet.
And then there’s you.
Leaning against the bar like some fever dream made flesh—all sinuous curves and effortless grace, the kind of quiet confidence that doesn’t need to shout to be heard. It screams louder than any of his stage antics ever could, louder than the roar of a sold-out crowd. The dim lighting catches the edge of your signature ring—that ring, the one from the Gucci campaign that had been plastered across every billboard last summer. It glints as you tap it absently against your glass, a slow, hypnotic rhythm that matches the erratic thud of his pulse.
He should look away…
He can’t.
Because you’re not just beautiful—you’re impossible. The kind of impossible that makes his chest ache, the kind that shouldn’t exist outside of late-night fantasies and the pages of his most dog-eared poetry books. And yet here you are, real and radiant and right there, close enough to touch.
And Christ, he knows you. Not in the way of shared cigarettes backstage or whispered confessions after last call, but in that primal, bone-deep way sailors know a storm rolling in—through the electric charge in the air, the ominous stillness before the first crack of thunder splits the sky. The kind of knowing that prickles the back of his neck even as it pulls him helplessly closer to the cliff's edge.
The headlines from the Met Gala flash behind his eyelids like a vintage film reel stuck on repeat: you in that scandalous embroidered silk dress that clung to every curve like liquid gold, the neckline plunging with the same reckless abandon as a dive into midnight waters. The world had collectively lost its goddamn mind—fashion critics penning breathless odes to your "rebirth of modern glamour", Twitter wars erupting over whether you'd "saved or slaughtered" haute couture. Half the internet had clutched their pearls raw over the "death of modesty". The other half had been reduced to a single, guttural scream for you—your name trending with fire emojis, your walk immortalised in grainy cellphone footage that still played on a loop in Eddie's darkest, most private moments.
And now here you stand, all that barely contained lightning in human form, close enough that he can see where your perfume clings to the hollow of your throat. The realisation hits like a cymbal crash: he's spent months watching you through screens and tabloids, but nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the reality of your presence, for how the oxygen seems to thin when your gaze drags over to him.
Your head turns.
Your eyes meet his.
And just like that, his entire fucking operating system crashes.
The clever greeting he'd been mentally workshopping? Deleted.
His usual arsenal of one-liners? Corrupted file.
Every ounce of that legendary Munson charm—the same silver tongue that had talked his band out of a back-alley brawl in Berlin, flirted his way past VIP bouncers in LA, and charmed a room full of jaded music critics into giving his album a standing ovation—has short-circuited into white noise. What emerges instead is a strangled "Hey" that cracks halfway through, the single syllable tilting upward like a question, like a prayer, like he’s not entirely convinced you’re not some whisky-fuelled hallucination conjured by his traitorous subconscious.
His pulse thrums erratically at his throat, a wild staccato beat visible beneath the edge of his collar. For one horrifying second, he’s just a man reduced to bare wiring and exposed nerves, utterly certain that if you asked him his name right now, he’d stare at you like a dial-up connection trying to process the request.
What's worse? You know who he is. Or at least, you've absorbed the stories—those wild, larger-than-life legends of Eddie "The Freak in the Sheets" Munson that circulate through VIP lounges and gossip columns like holy scripture. The stories about him talking his way out of actual police handcuffs in Munich. The whispered accounts of how he once seduced a Rolling Stone journalist mid-interview, resulting in a profile so scandalous the magazine's servers crashed from traffic. The kind of reputation that usually has strangers crawling into his lap before he's even finished his first drink.
And yet…
The way you're looking at him now—head tilted at that precise angle of clinical fascination, like a virologist observing a particularly intriguing strain under glass. Your lips quirk in faint amusement, not the starstruck grin he's accustomed to, but the expression of someone who's just discovered the magician's trapdoor. There's no awe in your gaze, just patient analysis, like you were promised a category-five hurricane and got a stiff breeze that barely ruffled your hair.
Your lips twitch, not quite a smile but something far more dangerous—the smirk of a chess grandmaster who's already played this match twelve moves ahead.
"Hey," you echo, your voice smoother than the whisky in his abandoned glass and twice as intoxicating. Eddie catches the glint in your eyes first—mischievous, daring, the same glint he's seen in mirrors right before doing something stupid—and feels his pulse kick up a notch. Then your fingers skate up his arm, nails dragging just barely hard enough to raise goosebumps under the sleeve of his blouse. His breath stutters like a dying engine when your lips brush the shell of his ear, warm and teasing.
"Are you going to stare all night, Munson, or are you actually going to say something?"
The slow arch of your eyebrow is the most devastating thing Eddie's ever witnessed—a silent challenge that hits him like a well-placed chord vibrating straight through his ribs. That deliberate lift, paired with the smug curl of your lips, sparks something primal in his chest. You look like the cat that got the cream, the guitarist who nailed the solo, like you've just won some private bet he didn't even know you were playing.
And that—that smug little quirk of your mouth—is what finally kickstarts his brain. Because Eddie Munson doesn't lose. Not at banter, not at bets, and definitely not at whatever this sudden, unspoken game is that you've started between heartbeats and heated glances.
He exhales sharply through his nose, the sound almost a growl as he straightens to his full height. When he finally speaks, his voice is all rough edges and smoke, the kind of tone that precedes either a killer riff or someone getting thoroughly wrecked against a backstage wall.
"Funny thing about staring, sweetheart…" his fingers dart out, catching your wandering hand just as it begins its ascent up his chest. He twines his fingers through yours, pinning your palm against the rapid-fire beat of his heart. "—it takes a hell of a view to make a man forget his words."
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes—because the joke's on him, really. You haven't just stolen his words; you've taken the air from his lungs, the rhythm from his pulse, left him feeling like an overstrung guitar about to snap from the tension.
Just as Eddie begins to find his rhythm in this dangerous little dance—just as he starts to anticipate your steps, to recognise the subtle hitch in your breath when he leans in too close—the music screeches to a halt.
Someone materialises from the crowd like a poorly timed jump scare, designer cufflinks glinting under the club lights as his arm slides around the sliver of exposed skin at your waist. The touch is possessive, practiced, the kind of casual intimacy that makes Eddie’s molars grind hard enough to spark.
And you—
You don’t even flinch.
The realisation hits Eddie like a kick to the ribs. He watches, jaw clenched, as the guy leans in—close enough that Eddie catches the cloying scent of his expensive cologne, the glint of veneers too perfect to be anything but bought. The way he kisses you is all performative passion, a showy press of lips that lingers just a beat too long, complete with a theatrical tilt of the head, like he’s mentally checking his angles.
Christ. It’s like watching a bad rom-com.
The guy pulls back with the smug satisfaction of a man who’s never been told no, his thumb brushing your hip in one last obnoxious display of ownership before he turns to Eddie. He extends a hand, his Rolex glinting under the strobe lights.
“It’s Edgar, right?”
Eddie’s eye twitches.
“Theodore”, the guy continues, flashing a smile so white it’s practically radioactive. “I take it you’ve met my girlfriend?”
Checkmate.
Fuck.
How could he have forgotten?
He’d been too busy writing sonnets in his head about the cadence of your voice when you whispered in his ear and too busy memorising the way your nails felt dragging up his sleeve to even fucking remember you have a boyfriend.
And not just any boyfriend.
No, it’s Theodore fucking Langley. Actor. Heartthrob. The guy whose face is currently plastered on every teen magazine from here to Tokyo, the same guy who got voted “Most Likely to Make You Swoon” by Seventeen or some shit. The kind of guy who probably has a skincare routine longer than the Lord of the Rings trilogy and a publicist who writes his posts for him.
Eddie forces a grin, sharp enough to draw blood, and shakes the guy’s hand just a little too hard.
“It’s Eddie. And yeah, she was just warning me to steer clear of the right-hand stage.” He nods toward the VIP section, packed to the brim with Hollywood’s most gossip-hungry vultures. “Unless I want to end up as tomorrow’s TMZ headline.”
The excuse rolls off his tongue smooth as honey, but inside, his thoughts are a fucking hurricane.
Because, honestly?
He doesn’t get it.
Not just because he’s got the hots for you (which, yeah, okay, he definitely does), but because the whole thing is so goddamn ridiculous. From what you even see in this guy to what the two of you could possibly talk about—Eddie knows the type in the way you know a bad sequel—overproduced, underwhelming, all flash and no substance. He’s met a hundred variations of Theodore at industry parties. Does he even know you? The real you? Or just the version that looks good on his arm during red carpets?
The tabloids are eating it up, of course. “Hollywood’s New It Couple!” bleeds across magazine covers in obnoxious neon fonts, while gossip sites run breathless slideshows of you and Theodore at every red carpet event, gala, and painfully staged coffee run. The cameras love the way his Armani-clad arm possessively anchors you to his side, how your designer dresses complement his tailored suits like you were manufactured as a set.
But they're not looking closely enough.
If they did, they'd notice how Theodore's fingers indent the fabric at your waist just a fraction too deep—the kind of grip that leaves bruises blooming like ink stains beneath fabric. They'd catch the microsecond delay in your smile when his lips graze your cheek, the way your eyes flicker toward the exits like a caged animal calculating escape routes. They'd see what Eddie sees with devastating clarity:
A mismatch.
A performance so polished it's rotting at the core.
The greatest fucking waste he's ever seen.
And then—the moment Theodore releases you to go charm some studio director who could "really take his career to the next level, darling," your hand snaps out with viper precision, your fingers curl around his wrist with deliberate precision—not tight enough to leave marks, but firm enough to make the veins in his forearm jump under your touch.
"Meet me backstage."
The words lick against his ear, molten and venomous—a command wrapped in velvet. Your teeth graze his earlobe just hard enough to remind him this isn't surrender. It's an ambush.
It's not a request.
Eddie's no stranger to the value in playing along, but Christ, the sixty seconds he forces himself to wait feel like slow torture. He counts each heartbeat against the sticky bar top, his fingers drumming an erratic rhythm that betrays the calm facade. The ice in his whisky melts unnoticed as his pulse hammers in his throat, torn between walking away and breaking into a run toward whatever fresh hell you're offering.
The hallway to the dressing rooms is a study in controlled chaos, narrow enough that Eddie's shoulders nearly brush both walls as he stalks forward, the buzz of faulty fluorescents casting strobe-like shadows that make the space feel both claustrophobic and thrillingly illicit.
And there you are—a vision of calculated nonchalance leaning against chipped paint that flakes under your fingertips. One foot props against the wall behind you like you've been waiting lifetimes rather than minutes. When your eyes lock onto his, they're dark with knowing amusement, your lips curling into a smirk that says you've already scripted this encounter and he's just now catching up to page three.
"Took you long enough," you tease, your voice a velvet-wrapped blade that cuts through the bass thumping from the main room. The words dance across the scant inches between you, each syllable weighted with unspoken challenges.
The dressing room door clicks shut with finality behind you, the sound louder than it should be in the sudden quiet. Eddie's body thrums with restrained energy—you can see it in the way his carotid pulses against the collar of his shirt, in the white-knuckle grip he maintains on his own belt loops to keep from reaching for you. The air between you crackles with the kind of tension that precedes summer storms, heavy with the promise of lightning.
You'd expected him to pounce—to back you against the nearest flat surface and finally give in. But instead…
He hesitates.
The space between his eyebrows furrows into a crease—the one that appears when he's tuning a stubborn guitar string or trying to decipher some cryptic lyric. But now it's deeper, more vulnerable, as his dark eyes roam your face like he's searching for answers in the slant of your cheekbones, the part of your lips. When he finally speaks, his voice is wrecked—rough as sandpaper and twice as raw, like he's been screaming himself hoarse backstage. "Is this what you want?"
The question hangs between you, weighted with something that makes your ribs ache. There's an unfamiliar tremor beneath the words. "Really?"
You blink up at him, and for one terrifying heartbeat, your carefully constructed mask slips—the one you wear at press junkets, the one you've perfected for Theodore's arm. Your breath catches audibly before you can school your features back into indifference. "What, don't you want me?"
The words slice through the charged air, sharper than you intended, laced with a surprise that has nothing to do with the game you've been playing. Eddie drags a hand through his hair, sending those riotous curls into glorious disarray. The movement makes his biceps flex, the tattoos peeking out from his sleeves suddenly vivid in the low light. "I don't give a fuck about my reputation, sweetheart." His usual smirk is nowhere to be found—just raw honesty that terrifies you more than any of his staged bad-boy antics ever could.
He exhales sharply through his nose, the sound almost pained, like the next words are being ripped from somewhere deep and rarely visited. "But yours?" A muscle jumps in his jaw as he gestures between you, his rings glinting. "You really wanna risk it all for this?" His usual swagger is fraying at the edges, revealing something far more dangerous beneath: a man who cares too much.
You tilt your head, lips quirking in a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Since when do you care what people think, Munson?”
“I don’t,” he snaps, stepping closer—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the leather-and-cigarettes scent of his jacket. “But you should. That boyfriend of yours? He’s got the media eating out of his palm. You really think they won’t tear you apart if—”
“If what?” You step into him, chest brushing his, and watch his throat bob as he swallows hard. “If they find out I’d rather be with you?”
Your fingers twist in the front of his shirt with deliberate purpose, the fabric straining under your grip as you yank him down into a kiss that's more collision than connection—all clashing teeth and shared breath and the kind of desperation that borders on violence. Eddie makes a raw, punched-out noise against your mouth, something between a groan and a curse, before his hands find purchase on your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave tomorrow's bruises as he walks you backward until the sharp edge of the dresser cabinet bites into your thighs.
The moment your legs hit solid wood, his tongue swipes against yours with devastating precision—hot and demanding and tasting faintly of whisky and the cigarette he sneaked between sets. And fuck, he kisses like he plays guitar: all calloused fingertips and effortless skill, bending you to his rhythm until you're gasping against his mouth. There's that same reckless passion he channels into every riff, that same single-minded focus he reserves for chasing the perfect note—except now, he's chasing you, chasing this, like he's reaching for something sacred in the space between your bodies.
Your back arches instinctively, pressing every inch of yourself against him, and the sound Eddie makes—a broken, shuddering groan muffled against your jaw—sends a thrill of power straight down your spine. One of his hands slides up to cradle the back of your head just before it would've connected painfully with the mirror behind you, his touch unexpectedly tender even as his hips grind forward with unmistakable intent. The contrast makes you lightheaded—this is Eddie Munson at his most dangerous, equal parts rough edges and brutal softness.
But then—
He tears himself away, breathing raggedly. “Wait. Wait. What about—?”
“Theo?” You nip at his lower lip, relishing the way his fingers dig into your waist. “What about him?”
Eddie’s brow furrows, that crease between his eyebrows deepening like a fault line splitting open. “I don’t want people thinking you’re—”
“A slut?” you murmur, dragging your nails down his chest in one slow, deliberate scrape, revelling in the way his breath hitches, the way his muscles jump under your touch. “A cheater?”
He flinches like you’ve struck him. “No.” His voice is rough, almost angry—not at you, but at the idea, at the world that would dare reduce this to something cheap. “I just—fuck—” His hands flex at your hips, like he’s holding himself back from something far more dangerous. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
And that—that just drives you crazier. Because Eddie Munson, the man who’s built his entire life on not giving a single fuck about consequences, is suddenly terrified—not for himself, but for you. For what this might cost you.
It’s the most reckless thing he’s ever done—caring.
Your hands slide under his shirt, tracing the taut lines of his abdomen, fingertips mapping the heat of his skin, the ridges of scars and ink you’ll ask about later. You grin against his mouth, all teeth and no mercy. “Stop telling me what I’m supposed to do.” Then, softer, a whisper against his lips—“And just fuck me like you mean it.”
Eddie’s restraint crumbles.
One of his fists twists in your hair, tilting your head back as his mouth crashes into yours again, harder this time, hungrier, like he’s trying to rewrite every kiss that came before this one. His other hand skims up your thigh, hiking your dress higher, and when you gasp, he swallows the sound like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, like he’s been starving for it.
Then he’s hoisting you up onto the dresser with effortless strength, the cold surface biting into your bare thighs as he drops to his knees like a man preparing for ascension.
And he tries to be patient—he really does.
He presses open-mouthed kisses up the inside of your thighs, savouring the way your muscles jump under his lips, the way your breath hitches when his stubble drags against your skin. But Christ, he can already smell you—that heady, intoxicating mix of your desperation and his own name lingering on your tongue. It hits him like a punch to the gut, leaving him dizzy in a way that has nothing to do with the liquor he’s been nursing all night.
Vertigo.
A full-body shudder.
The kind of high no drug could ever replicate.
And it’s not like he has a reputation to uphold—so he doesn’t bother hiding how fucking gone he is. He nudges at your clit with his nose, just to hear the way your breath fractures, just to feel your fingers twist in his hair like a silent please. Every flick of his tongue makes your hips jerk, every low, filthy noise you make going straight to his dick, and he’s already praying for a way to freeze time, to get to stay here between your legs forever. His tongue drags a slow, torturous stripe through your folds, and the sound you make—fuck—it’s enough to send a bolt of heat straight down his spine. Higher pitched, broken at the edges, like you’re already halfway to ruin.
Heaven shouldn’t even bother trying. There’s no way it could top this.
Eddie dives in like a starving man, hands splayed over your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh. And God, he’s insatiable once he starts. Eager. Determined. Like he wants to memorise every twitch, every gasp, every time your legs tighten around his ears like there’s a part of you that’s worried he’ll change his mind. He licks into you like he’s trying to devour you, like he’d happily suffocate right here if it meant getting one more taste. Your fingers tug at his hair, and Eddie groans against you, the vibration wringing another broken sound from your throat.
This isn’t a sprint. It’s not even a damn marathon—it’s a relay race, and Eddie is eagerly playing each part, trading one touch for another, one filthy whisper for a bruising kiss, until you’re gasping, wrung out, and still begging for more.
His hands are everywhere—skimming up your ribs, gripping the back of your thighs—each touch deliberate, each movement calculated to drag another broken sound from your lips. His mouth is relentless, trailing fire in its wake, teeth scraping just hard enough to make your back arch off the wall. He eats you out like he’s got something to prove, like he’s mapping every gasp, every shudder, filing them away for later.
And when you think you can’t take any more, he drags you right back to the edge, his lips finding that spot that makes your breath hitch. Your head falls back against the mirror with a thud, his name spilling from your lips in a moan that’s half plea, half prayer. The glass is cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the feverish press of his body against yours.
Eddie’s teeth scrape over your pulse point—claiming, punishing, worshipping—before his tongue soothes the sting, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. His fingers dig into your hips like he’s memorising the shape of them, like he’s trying to brand himself into your bones.
And when you kiss him, when your hands are fisted in his hair as you drag him towards you, as your tongue swipes against his, you can taste yourself on him, sweet and sharp, and it makes you whimper, arching into him. Eddie groans, low and rough, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. He kisses you back just as hungrily, like he’s been starving for this, for you, and suddenly, there’s a certainty in his chest, bright and terrifying, that he doesn’t know how he ever lived without this.
His usual moves—the ones that earned him that damn Freak in the Sheets nickname—are nowhere to be found. There’s something ruined in the way he touches you, like he’s not just trying to wreck you but worship you, like every sigh you let out is a prayer he wants to memorise. When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his breathing ragged. His dark eyes search yours, thumb brushing your cheek in a gesture so soft it makes your chest ache.
“You okay?” He murmurs, voice wrecked.
It’s such a stupid question—of course you’re okay; you’re better than okay—but the way he asks it, like he genuinely needs to know, like your answer matters more than his next breath, it lights something inside of you as well. Because you feel it too—the way the air between you crackles even when you’re not touching, the way his hands linger even after he’s pulled away, like he can’t stand to let you go.
You swallow, suddenly too exposed. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect you to be so…”
“So what?” He grins, but it’s not his usual cocky smirk—it’s lopsided, almost nervous.
“Attentive,” you admit, and his grin softens into something real.
Eddie huffs a laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well. You’re… special.”
Eddie exhales, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your waist—slow, possessive circles that leave fire in their wake. His voice drops, rough with something that isn’t just want but need.
“Let me take you out.”
His eyes meet yours again, dark and pleading, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a touch so tender it makes your breath stutter. His gaze is unbearably fond, like he’s already memorised every freckle, every hitch in your breathing, like he’s been waiting for you forever and just didn’t know it until now.
“Somewhere that’s not a dressing room,” he murmurs, lips quirking in that half-smile that’s equal parts mischief and vulnerability. “Somewhere with… chairs. And menus and shit.”
You laugh, but it comes out shaky, because, fuck, this isn’t how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to be a distraction, a one-night rebellion against the perfectly curated life you’re supposed to want—the one where you’re Theodore Langley’s golden girl, where your smiles are scripted and your hands are meant to linger on his arm, not tangled in Eddie Munson’s hair.
But Eddie?
Eddie’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.
And that’s terrifying.
Because you feel it too—the way your chest tightens when he smiles, the way your skin still hums where he touched you, like his hands left permanent fingerprints.
“Why?” you whisper.
He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. His thumb stills against your lip, his voice raw. “Because I don’t think once is going to be enough.”
And God, the way he says it—like it’s already a lost cause, like he’s doomed, like he’s been ruined for anything else and he doesn’t even care.
You swallow. “What if I say no?”
Eddie’s grin is all teeth, but his eyes? Soft. “Then I’ll wait for you till you do.”
“For how long?”
He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “However long it takes.”
And fuck, he's in trouble.
Because maybe there's a third thing that makes Eddie who he is right now—not just the leather-jacketed rebel who flips off convention, not just the raw-nerved artist who bleeds his truth into every chord.
But Eddie Munson, the man who never begged for anything in his life, who would get on his knees for you.
Eddie Munson, who built his career on not giving a single fuck, would burn down every bridge if it meant keeping you warm.
Eddie Munson, the self-proclaimed freak, has never felt more terrifyingly human than when you look at him like he's something precious instead of dangerous.
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️18+: tooth rotting fluff, anxiety, panic attacks, eddie is sick, angst, nervousness, talk about illnesses, a new character comes in
wc: 10.7k
A/N: OH MY, ITS FINALLY HERE, THE ONE SCENE THAT STARTED THIS MADNESS IN MY HEAD. after almost 2 years, finally, here is... baring teeth. Thank you @andvys for proofreading and telling me things did make sense.
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 26
“So, how is everything there, honey?”
Your mother's voice was comforting, to say the least, and all you wanted was to hug her. You felt the tears slowly coming back to you as your chest started heaving a bit at the memory of what happened the night before.
“I– I told the worst guy ever what happened.” You could see your mother's side on the other side of your screen. Your walls were broken, your privacy shattered, a story you never wanted out, at least not yet.
“Was it that… long-haired guy?”
“Yes– Yes, and it was so… It was so liberating, but why him?” Your voice cracked as you remembered everything you said inside that elevator, but your sobs started going down when you remembered how he let you hit him. How he let you strike him as many times as you wanted, and you stopped at two. Your mom waited patiently, seeing you calm down slowly.
“Did he push you? Force you to talk?” You blinked a few times, wiping your tears away, shaking your head at her.
“No… But I just got so tired…”
“You exploded… You should have told your friend.” You rolled your eyes at your mom, but she was right. You should have told Robin about your past a long time ago, but now Eddie Munson knows it first. The guy you absolutely despise knows your life story now.
“I hate him… But he is not a bad guy.” You confessed, and your mother nodded in understanding, a small smile on her face.
“Maybe your relationship changes from now on, and maybe he isn’t that much of an asshole as you say he is.” She giggled, and you huffed, shaking your head.
“I doubt it.”
Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the grogginess of sleep invading you as you woke up. You felt warm, as if you had a personal furnace sitting right next to you. Or behind you. The warmth was on your back and wrapped around your middle.
You looked down to see tattooed arms around you, holding you close against a chest. Strong breaths were being puffed against the back of your neck, making the hairs of your arms stand up when a child ran down your spine. You could smell him as he softly snored behind you, and you felt safe. You felt warm. Protected.
And the giddiness suddenly got to you. You’re with Eddie. You’re officially with Eddie. You were no longer just friends with benefits; you two were together, together. You two were dating. He was yours, you were his. No longer just exclusive for sex, but because there was a serious relationship now. A serious relationship with a man that you knew wanted the same things you did in the future.
You needed to tell Robin. Fuck you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t wait to get out of this bed and tell your best friend, and then everyone else, and you couldn’t wait for their reactions. What were they going to say? Were they going to be angry for hiding it, or were they going to congratulate the two of you and be happy? You were no longer the only single people in the group, and the funny part was that you got together with each other.
Would Robin jump and down like you wanted to do so badly now? You had to tell your mom, but your mom didn’t know you were actually seeing Eddie; she just knew you were seeing some dude, so what would she think of this? What would she think of him?
“Stop wiggling your ass like a happy puppy, or you’re going to be in trouble.” His voice knocked you out of your little dreamland, and you hadn’t noticed that out of your happiness and excitement, you had been wiggling unconsciously. His voice was raspy, laced with sleepiness that he was starting to shake off second by second.
You bit your bottom lip, turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes meeting with his closed eyelids.
“Morning.” You whispered softly, feeling your heart about to burst at its seams, and you felt your throat closing up on you. For some reason, it still felt unreal. You weren’t sure why, but you were now dating Eddie, when a year back, you couldn’t stand to see his face. Now you were sure you cannot live without seeing those eyes at least once a day.
Said eyes slowly started making an appearance. A thin line first before he yawned and blinked slowly, trying to wake himself up a little more. His grip tightened around your body, and it looked as if he were trying to focus and center on your face. He groaned and whined playfully as he cuddled even more against you, his nose into your neck.
“I don’t wanna get up…” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips, feeling your entire body enter a state of bliss. You wanted to see him. You wanted to properly greet him this morning. You wiggled in his arms, turning around as best as you could, making him groan in warning this time because you brushed your ass against his bare front.
“It’s a Sunday…” You whispered, and he hummed in delight. His hands were now all over your back, pulling you into him, and you felt entirely safe in these arms. You sighed in contentment, closing your eyes as you snuggled up into him. You took a deep breath of his scent in and you heard him huff.
“You creep, stop smelling me.”
“Can’t stop, won’t stop.” You made an obnoxious inhaling sound, very exaggerated, with your nose against his Adam’s apple. He laughed, and he moved his face away from yours, making you pout. “I wasn’t done smelling…”
His eyes were tender, sleepy, but you could still see the happiness shining in them. You expected yours to look just the same. He suddenly rolled over you, making you gasp, and he started sniffing you all over like a dog. He was huffing, letting out sharp breaths, and even panting like one. You were giggling and squealing each time his scruff tickled you, or his breath, even more when they passed all over your neck.
“You smell–” Sniff. Sniff. “Like something delicious. Something precious.” He mimicked Smeagol from Lord of the Rings, which fully woke you up, making you laugh in disgust. “Me likey.”
“Of course you do. You are the creep, not me!” He pulled away from you, pouting. He was adorable. How could a man like this be adorable?
“I am not a creep. I just like your smell, is that so bad? Didn’t you like my smell too?”
“But I ain’t acting like a dog!” You exclaimed, and he squinted at you for a few seconds before letting out a playful bark. You laughed, and he smiled down at you, making this morning perfect in every shape and way possible.
He waited for your laugh to slow down before moving down and capturing your lips in a soft kiss. Your breathing hitched, stopped for a second, and then your right hand moved to the back of his head to hold on to him, kissing him back. Overly domestic, overly cheesy, but you loved it.
When he pulled away, his left hand came to brush against your cheek, which only made your head feel dizzy. What had Eddie Munson done to you? What kind of drug did he inject you with to be this obsessed with him?
“Morning, Peach.” You pouted a bit, and he tilted his head with a smile. “What?”
“You called me something else last night…” He hummed at your response, and you could see how he was trying not to smile widely, his dimples clenching on him from the force.
“Oh? What was that? Mmm… Honey?” You shook your head, still with the pout on your lips. “Not Honey? Darling? I always say that one…”
“You called me that before, and now I can admit I’ve always liked it.” You said softly, and he stuck his tongue out to the corner of his mouth, and squinted his eyes, as if deep in thought.
“Mmm… What’s the first letter?”
“Now you’re being mean…”
“I’m not being mean, baby.” He smirked as he saw your eyes lock with his at the pet name. The pet name that would definitely state what you were to him in front of everyone. “Oh, was it ‘baby’?”
You whined at the teasing, but you loved it. You pouted your bottom lip at him, and he chuckled, leaning down to kiss it away before dipping his head towards your pulse point, kissing it softly. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes at the sensation.
“Eds…”
“Cute.” He pulled away, and his eyes found yours before talking again. “So, when’s our anniversary?”
Your heart jumped out of your chest at the question. It was unbelievable. Maybe you should pinch yourself somehow because it was almost like a dream. Eddie, though, looked quite serious with the question, and you remembered that this was a man who had never had a formal relationship before. It was your turn to tease now.
“Our anniversary? Of what?” You innocently asked, and his eyebrows raised up in surprise.
“Uh… us?”
“Us? Like our… first fuck? Or what do you mean?” He was perplexed, looking down at you as if you had gone crazy. You wanted to laugh because he was clearly not getting the joke at all.
“I– Was what happened yesterday night a dream? Am I going crazy?”
“What happened?” You were playing innocent, your voice high-pitched on purpose, and his eyes started to squint your way, as if knowing you were up to something.
“What we talked about…? Making it official?” Your gut turned in giddiness, and you frowned as if confused.
“We made it official?”
He tilted his head to the side, and it took him a few seconds before he huffed and sat back on the bed, crossing his legs and arms, glaring at you. You giggled, sitting up too, the same way, so he knew you weren’t backing out of your joke.
“Are you seriously going to make me ask? What are we, fifteen?”
“Ask what, Munson?” You shrugged as if you had no clue what he meant. His mouth fell in disbelief, and you wanted to cackle at it. He looked so comical right now. You two were completely naked, looking at each other, limbs crossed and hairs a mess, would be hard not to laugh at it. He squinted a bit before a smirk plastered on his lips.
“Well… then, you ask me.” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We were never a conventional pair; let’s keep it that way. You ask me to be your boyfriend.” Your mouth fell open, and you couldn’t believe how he turned this against you. His eyes were shimmering with amusement at your reaction, and you turned your head away from him.
“Then, no anniversary.” Suddenly, you were tackled into the bed again, your face being peppered in kisses that made you giggle, feeling the warmth of his body all over you. His hair was all over your face, making you do spitting noises each time you felt a bit of hair get into your mouth. “Stop!”
He stopped and looked down at you, playful, yet serious, and filled with an emotion that just made your limbs turn into Jell-O. The room just felt like a cocoon of comfort, of life, and you didn’t want to get out of it anytime soon.
“Well, if it wasn’t obvious, Peach, you became my girlfriend. So yes, anniversary, and I declare it was yesterday. Happy?” You couldn’t help the smile that broke on your lips, same as his did. You nodded at him and pecked his lips softly, only to then smirk.
“Yeah, I know. I just wanted you to say it out loud, admit you’re crazy for me and all that.” You mocked him with his exact words from yesterday, making his jaw fall in surprise. You copied his surprised face, once again making fun of him, and then you were tickled on the side, making you choke on a giggle.
If this was what life was going to be with Eddie, fuck, you regretted hating him for an entire year. You couldn’t believe this man, who was a menace to you before, now acted this way. You couldn’t believe YOU acted this way. This domestic. This clingy. This possessive.
“Now, who is the mean one?” He squinted a bit, and you shrugged, playing coy. He chuckled, and then his eyes seemed to look to the side, as if in thought. Your smile fell a little at the seriousness that took over his features.
“What is it?”
“I…” He choked up a bit on his words, surprising you. You felt something twisting in your stomach, like something was wrong. “Now that we’re together… I– I think that you need to know about something, Peach.”
Your breathing stopped. This was probably about his condition, whatever that could be. You were curious, but he seemed disturbed by it. He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. He seemed… scared. There was definitely fear in those eyes, and in the shakiness of the tip of his fingers.
“Okay, I am listening, Eddie…” You reassured him, and he sighed, shaking his head as his voice started becoming slightly choked up.
“I– It just… It’s something…”
You noticed he couldn’t find the words. You were nervous now, wondering what it could be for him to be this affected by it. Was he judged for having an illness before? You wouldn’t be surprised, the world you all lived in today was fucked in many ways. But physically, Eddie didn’t seem to have any illness at all, so it couldn’t be that he was bullied or made fun of or judged because of physical features.
But he was scared shitless, which made you feel the exact same level of fear. Whatever the condition was, he didn’t talk about it often, you now realized. Should you tell him to not tell you anything? Should you stop him, and let him know he could tell you when he truly felt ready? No, you really do want to know because you worry for his health. You worry it’s something he might need help with. Something you need to know in case there’s an emergency.
“Baby, you can tell me…” You softly brushed a hair of his behind his ear, and his eyes finally found yours. He was starting to breathe heavily, his nostrils flaring as he looked into your pupils. His jaw clenched and unclenched, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with nerves, and your worry only increased.
“I… I–”
Your phone started ringing out of nowhere. You frowned and looked to the side at the same time Eddie did. You shook your head and looked back at him, deciding to let it ring. You couldn’t be interrupted, not now.
“Eds, let it ring–”
“It’s your boss.” You frowned again, this time confused. Liana never called you during weekends. He immediately rolled over and laid on his back as you reached for the phone, seeing Liana’s name on the screen. You sat up as you answered.
“Liana?”
“Hey! I am so sorry for calling you, but– I know you have been absent because of a family loss, and I know it’s a Sunday, but I need you.”
Worry settled in your gut when you heard the heaviness of her voice. She was clearly rushing somewhere, and with that belly of hers, it was probably no easy task. That’s why she probably needed your help, the question was why.
“What do you need help with? Did something happen?” Meanwhile, Eddie was using his elbow for support as he rested his head on his palm, his left hand running over your thigh.
“Jean Paul Gaultier’s VP is literally in town for just this weekend. He called me just an hour before, embarrassed for doing so, but he wanted to meet up with me to discuss a campaign. This is important because we rarely have vice presidents coming in for these deals!”
Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, and your excitement grew as you heard the insane opportunity at hand. You grabbed Eddie’s hand with happiness, and he was stunned at the action, but he held it and let you shake him back and forth in your giddiness.
“That’s fucking amazing, Liana! What do you need me for, though?”
“It’s a great opportunity for you to know how to interact with important clients. It’s also good, because you will manage this campaign when I’m gone, so they will know who to contact if something urgent were to happen. But the meeting is today, in an hour.” Your eyes widened, heart plummeting to the floor as you turned to look at Eddie.
“Today? Can’t he… stay one more day, and we can do the meeting tomorrow?” Liana sighed, calling your name almost in a reprimand.
“This position of mine is amazing and great, pays beautifully, but it also means you won’t have as much peace as you had before.” You sighed, gulping as you looked at Eddie with a sad frown on your eyebrows. He immediately sat up, noticing the distress, and he shook his head, mouthing ‘Don’t worry’.
“Okay… Okay… I will be there… You think the meeting will be long?”
“Well, we’ll first get to know each other, establish a nice relationship, before jumping into a deal. So, we might take some hours.” You bit your bottom lip, and you cursed at everything and everyone in life. You were regretting saying yes to this position, but you also didn’t. You were going to meet with Jean Paul Gaultier for fucks sake, but Eddie–
“Alright. Send me the details in a message, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you! I can barely breathe and talk because of the heats, so you would help me a lot if you could do most of the talking, darling.” You couldn’t say you understood, but you knew about the heats she was talking about. You had some maternity classes when doing your fertility treatments, after all.
“Sure, I’ll see you in an hour, Li.” She said goodbye, and you hung up the phone, looking at Eddie, who chuckled, frowning a bit as he thought.
“I heard, Jean Paul Gaultier? Isn’t that the brand that makes those body-shaped perfumes?” Your eyes widened in surprise because you didn’t think Eddie would know about that.
“Um, yeah. How–”
“Steve. He loves collecting perfumes. Imagine my surprise when he gifted me one, and it was the body of a man, bulge and all.” You giggled at that, shaking your head at his childishness. You then frowned again, grabbing his hand.
“I’m sorry… You were going to tell me something important…” He shrugged and leaned forward to press a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.
“Don’t worry… It can wait. Really.” His voice was soft and reassuring, letting you know there really was no problem with you going out for a few hours.
“We could continue tonight? I really want to know what you have to tell me…” You saw him gulp at your words, noticing the nerves etched on his face. He nodded once.
“Yeah… We got time for that.” You sighed in defeat and nodded, looking down at your phone, and your eyes widened, jumping off the bed.
“Shit! One hour! One hour to make myself presentable and hide all the fucking hickies you left!” You heard your boyfriend plopping on the bed, turning to see him with his hands behind his head, looking at you.
“Don’t you dare cover those up.” You rolled your eyes, not noticing how serious he was about that statement, but you preoccupied yourself with looking for your clothes. You grabbed the bag you brought to Eddie’s, selecting the most formal outfit you could. He watched your every move, a smile on his face, which you were not aware of.
“God, what am I even going to say! I– Fuck, I need to think of what we’ll talk about, and the project, and, fuck, fuck, fuck–” You were hit with sudden nerves as you thought about the possibilities this meeting would bring to you professionally. This was not just the secretary of the secretary, of the administration of the management of Jean Paul Gaultier. This was the vice president.
“Hey, hey, hey.” You heard Eddie call you, and you turned around to see him putting on his boxers and walking your way. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, and he mimicked a deep breath in, so you copied him, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “You’ll do great. That’s why Liana trusts you so much.”
“Yeah, but what if I don’t do great?” He chuckled, rolling his eyes your way.
“Yeah, you messing up all the time is what got you a CEO training and future position.” His encouraging words, even if sarcastic, managed to calm your erratic heart, and he pressed a soft kiss at the top of your head. “Tell you what. You’ll nail that interview, and I will be here waiting for you with Mexican food.”
You gasped in delight at the thought, wrapping your arms around his shoulders with a smile. You peppered his face in kisses, finally getting to do it without worrying if he would think it was too much. By his laughter, you guessed he enjoyed the attention, as well as his hands gripping your hips in a tight hold.
“Okay, I will get that deal. Just for the tacos.” He smiled and gave your lips a soft kiss before pulling away to let you keep getting dressed. You didn’t notice where he was going, too busy trying to fix yourself in his mirror. You also had to brush your teeth and do some of your makeup, and cover the cannibalism Eddie had done to your neck.
“Peach.” You were brought out of your thoughts as you turned around, brush in hand. Your eyes fell on the glistening key that was in his hand. You felt the butterflies in your belly resurface, flying all about in a crazed state, realizing what he was giving you. “Here.”
“Eddie…” You whispered as you got hold of the copy of his front door. Your eyes found his, and you noticed the blush spreading on his cheeks as he tried to cover it by pulling his hair in front of his face.
“Had it for a while… I just… I don’t know how this goes, is it too much? Too early? You’re just– just here all the time, so–” You interrupted his nervous rambling by getting on your tippy toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. You couldn’t feel any happier even if you could. There was no way. This day exceeded all the thoughts and dreams you had. You weren’t expecting the key to his house at all, and this just meant how deep you two were in.
“Thank you for trusting me…” You whispered into his lips, and he sighed, pecking you once again as his arms wrapped around you. “I will do a copy of mine for you too…”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to…” He smiled softly, holding your gaze for a little longer as his hands pressed against your back. Such a big step. Two dynamics have changed so badly in less than 24 hours.
You really could not wait to tell Robin.
Three hours. A three-hour meeting.
It was nerve-wracking. You were nervous most of the time because that man was rich, a millionaire, having a croissant with you and your boss, who barely had money to start saving up for a house.
It was an hour of making small talk, getting to know one another, and then it was business time. They want their new designs for the winter collection to have four to seven full pages in your magazine. At this point, it was a catalogue for events and famous people. They would use your magazine to browse their favorite designs, and then contact the designers to get them for important galas or events.
You managed to strike a very good deal, and you were going to be the head of the project. You would have to look for models, artists and photographers, and get the campaign going, but you couldn’t be more proud of yourself. You made good friends with the man too, so you were headed in the right direction.
Now, alone with Liana in the limousine she rented for this meeting, you could finally sigh out of relief and lie back on the seat. Your boss smiled as she rubbed her belly, patting it gently.
“Well, that was a success!”
“Yeah, it surprisingly was.” You chuckled, and Liana shook her head, scooting closer to you.
“No, I was right when I chose you as my replacement. There was no such surprise. No one could have pulled a good deal like you just did. You got us earnings if someone wants a design from the posts in our magazine! No designer ever agrees to that.” You smiled at the praise, knowing you did, in fact, do a good job. It was alright to feel proud of yourself, so you nodded.
“Yeah, I am that bitch.” Liana laughed at your joke and then she also lay back on the seat. She took a deep breath in before turning her head to look at you.
“You alright? After this week?” You didn’t want to lie to her. She had been the closest you had to a second mom in this city, ever since you moved. You felt attached to her, so the least you could do was be honest.
“It wasn’t… from my side. My boyfriend… He lost his uncle, who was basically his father figure, and he– He needed me, Li.” Your boss’s eyes widened as she straightened up with a grunt because of her belly, facing you entirely.
“Boyfriend!? Since when did you get a boyfriend!?” You couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips as you looked at her. You could feel your body flushing all over with heat as you felt happiness invade your brain once again.
“I– Since yesterday… actually…” She tilted her head with confusion, trying to, what it looked like, do calculations in her head.
“But– You asked for the week off, and you–” She gasped, pointing a finger at you, then covering her mouth with a shocked gasp. “Oh my god, I– I called you on your first morning as an official couple!?”
“It’s okay, really… We had been… seeing each other for months now, and– We finally talked yesterday after an entire week of living together and… well…” You smiled widely at her, not even trying to hide your giddiness. She sighed happily as she smiled your way, giving you a small nod.
“I’m happy for you… Um… he is not like… You know…” She winced a bit, and you shook your head, sitting up straight. You knew she was asking if he had the same thoughts and ideals as Billy did.
“No, no… He has been in my friend group since I moved here. We clashed for an entire year until we finally opened up to one another, and well… one thing led to the other.” Liana awed at your explanation, and you shook your head, snorting at her.
“Well, I hope he treats you right.” You nodded, your grin still plastered on your face.
“I don’t doubt he will.” Liana patted you on the shoulder with encouragement, and then she fanned herself a little bit as the heat got to her once more.
“I really do need my bed… Do you want me to drop you off at your house?” You immediately shook your head, your nerves and your excitement to see your boyfriend winning over as you gave her his address.
In the ride, you told her in short detail about your relationship. She listened and was shocked to learn you were dating someone you almost beat the shit out of. You talked highly of Eddie, of how protective he is, how caring, how sensitive when he lets himself be, how hard headed he could be.
Liana was also shocked when she saw you stop at a mechanic’s shop, and you explained that his house was on the second and third floors. She hummed with approval and let you go with a kiss on the cheek. Your eyes drifted to the moving belly as she complained one more time, and you didn’t feel hopeless for the first time in a while.
You felt anxious, yes, but filled with excitement about what Eddie could bring into your life. You knew that he wanted a family; he even promised to give you a baby when the two of you were just friends with benefits, and now, as a couple… Maybe that baby could come sooner than waiting for you two to be thirty.
You shook your head from the running thoughts and the images that started conjuring up in your mind. The small domestic scenes that were suddenly displayed were a bit frightening when you two had just become official less than 24 hours ago. You walked up the stairs behind the building, going up to his front door, and you looked excitedly into your purse, finding the key.
You bit your bottom lip and slowly opened the door. The blinds were still down in the living room, so that meant that Eddie did not come downstairs. You frowned as you closed the door behind you, looking upstairs.
“Eds? I’m back!” You waited for a response, only to receive nothing in return. You walked more into the living room, and you saw the small bathroom’s light turned on in the small hallway next to the kitchen. You walked towards it to see that the cabinet was open and things were thrown on the sink.
Your heart started dropping, and suddenly your gut was telling you that something was wrong. Something was not right. Maybe Eddie went out? Maybe he was looking for some painkillers and didn’t find any, so maybe he was not home? You grabbed your phone from your back pocket, walking back into the living room and kitchen area, and messaged him
‘Where are you?’
You heard vibrations coming from the coffee table, and you frowned, walking towards it. Eddie’s phone rested there, lighting up with your message. The hairs on your arms stood in alarm as your head snapped towards the stairs.
“Eddie?” You called again, and this time you heard a thump. You dropped your purse as you felt adrenaline rushing through you, running up the stairs as quickly as you could, feeling your heart about to burst in your chest. The first thing you saw was the bathroom door open, and things were dropped onto the floor, and then into the hallway.
You walked towards it to see the cabinet also open, and that empty flask on the sink was shattered into pieces, no liquid in sight. You turned around and rushed to the door of his room, but you were frozen in place at the doorway when you saw the scene before you.
The drawers were pulled open, clothes a mess as if he were looking for something desperately. The drawers of the night tables, the desk, all of it was open. Papers were scattered around, as well as his bags, but the worst sight was him.
He was breathing heavily, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, his back against the frame. He was sweating, still in his boxers, and he looked like he couldn’t breathe. He was choking on his breaths, gulping, and your mouth finally opened to whisper his name.
“Eds…?”
His head snapped at your voice and– His eyes were black. His pupils were so dilated you couldn’t see the color of his irises. His breathing became even more erratic when he looked at you, and your feet finally moved, taking a step towards him, but a loud voice, one you had never heard from him, stopped you.
“Don’t get any closer, Peach. Fuck– Don’t…” You saw him wince, and you were frowning, your hands up towards his way as if you were trying to tame a beast because you didn’t know what to do. You wanted to run to him, to hold him, ask him what’s wrong, but the glare in his eyes kept you put.
“W–What’s wrong–”
“Listen to me… Do what I tell you to, and don’t ask.” His voice was heavy, rough, almost as if he were holding back a sound you could not quite pinpoint. Your worry heightened, your feet moving against your will, taking another step forward. “Peach!”
“I’m– I’m sorry– I’m worried–” He sighed as he suddenly winced, his hand gripping the floor underneath him while the other covered his belly. He shook his head, taking sharp breaths in.
“I’m sorry– But, you’re in danger of me hurting you right now. I thought you would take longer…” He took a deep breath in and he closed his eyes, and you were just shocked in your place.
“What? What do you mean hurt me–”
“I don’t know if I can control myself with you here, Peach. You– Grab the cuffs from the drawer, the top one, and throw them my way.” You blinked a few times at the weird request, at how alarmed he sounded. All you cared about, though, was that the man you had fallen completely for was suffering on the floor of his room. Suddenly, there was a rumble heard in the room, and you felt– Threatened. “Peach.”
You rushed to the top drawer and looked to the very back of it, feeling the cold metal brush your fingers. You grabbed onto the cuffs, which had the keys in them, and you looked at Eddie. He was panting, and you saw how his eyes were moving all over your body in a way that made you feel… that made you feel small. They made you feel like he was ready to take you, in whichever way he wanted.
“Eddie–”
“Throw them.” You gulped and threw the handcuffs close to him. He groaned as he moved, cuffing his left wrist to the foot of the bed. He took the keys out and threw them your way. He gave a small sigh of relief, but that same relief was not at all etched on his features.
“What is going on? Do I call the ambulance?”
“No– Listen to me. I couldn’t get my phone before my legs gave in. Go downstairs and call a contact that says ‘Murray’. Tell him I fucked up. He’ll understand.” His voice was strained now. The more he talked, the more he shook as if he were having aftershocks. You hesitated, looking down at your boyfriend. His neck was red, and you saw big spots of a more purple color on the crook of it and his left shoulder.
You noticed now, after the shock, how heavy the room felt. It felt tense and filled with a strong scent that matched Eddie’s cologne, but not quite. You felt your chest being pressed on, as if an elephant’s foot stepped on it. The AC was on, yet it felt as if it were outside. You noticed the purple bruises, but a little more on the red side, on his wrists and ankles as well. Was this his condition?
Was Eddie… Was Eddie having an episode of whatever he was suffering from?
You hadn’t noticed the involuntary little step you did his way, and you gasped when you saw him yank himself your way, fighting against the cuff. He choked on his spit, his eyes clenching tightly as sweat dripped from his forehead and chest. He growled your name, and you felt your body wash over in a cold sweat at the tone, at the aggressiveness of it.
“I’M FINE! CALL MURRAY BEFORE–” Your feet moved, running outside the room at full speed, almost tripping on the stairs as you rushed to the living room. You grabbed Eddie’s phone and typed in his pin number that he shared with you long ago. You were breathing heavily thanks to your nerves, feeling helpless as you heard another thump upstairs.
You looked into the contacts and finally found the number Eddie mentioned. You pressed the call button on it and put the phone to your ear. You could feel the tears slipping from your eyes as you waited, bouncing on your feet as you looked at the stairs.
“Munson.”
“Hello– This– This is not Eddie, I’m– I’m his girlfriend–”
“Girlfriend?” You could hardly speak, and this was an emergency. This man was probably the one who knew what was wrong with your boyfriend, and all he cared about was the surprise that Eddie had a girlfriend.
“Yes! Yes! He– He is in his room, I came home and found him like this! He is sweating and–”
“Did he fuck up?”
“What?” Your mind was clouded, and then you remembered Eddie’s words.
‘Tell him I fucked up.’
“Did he fuck up?” And you gulped, nodding even though this man could not see you.
“Yes, yes. He said he did– Sir, who are you?– What is going on–?” The man went silent, and you were growing desperate. The confusion and worry were mixing together, and they were not being a good combo for your brain nor your body.
“I’ll be there in minutes. Is he secured?” Your breathing stopped for a second. This man really did know about Eddie’s condition.
“He… He is cuffed to the bed.” The man chuckled a bit on the other side, and then you heard him start to complain.
“I understand the situation he was in for the past weeks, but forgetting his fucking– And with you there!!! He is probably not having a great time.” You were pacing around the living room, not understanding a single word out of this strange man’s mouth.
“Sir– I don’t know what is going on, is he–”
“He is going to be fucking fine. Stay away from him for now, that’s all I ask for until we get there.” And the line went dead. You looked down at Eddie’s phone, your hand shaking aggressively as you stared at the fading screen. This man just wanted you to sit and wait? But Eddie also did not want you in the room. Whatever that was happening to him, he either didn’t want you to see, or he didn’t want you to try to even touch him.
Your heart was murdering you, and it was making you almost gag from feeling the heartbeat in your throat. It was going really fast, stupidly fast. You were sweating and you wanted to cry, but why would you? It would be stupid to cry. Eddie needed you, and you felt so useless, but you couldn’t just wallow in your self-pity of being kept in the dark. Not right now.
So you waited. You debated calling the phone number again, asking if they were going to take long to come over, whoever these people were. Were they medics? Was it some kind of special facility for whatever condition he had? You didn’t know, and you shouldn’t have left. Fuck.
You felt the tears just coming down once more. You hadn’t left him all week, and the one day you walk out of this house, he gets this crisis. You couldn’t believe your luck. You could have been here when it hit, because he probably had been like this for hours, unable to stand to get to his phone. You should have been here. You should have stayed.
You heard the stairs from outside the front door, and you perked up, rushing over to the door, only for it to click open. Your eyes widened in surprise and shock, now knowing this man also had a spare key to Eddie’s house. He was bald at the top, with hair all over his sides. Glasses over his eyes, a strong, dark beard on his jaw, and he was wearing casual clothes, unlike the men following behind, who were in scrubs.
“I assume you’re the girlfriend?” He asked, and you were stunned, slowly nodding as you gave him your name. He hummed and held his medical bag up, walking towards the stairs.
“Excuse me! What– What is–”
“I am also assuming he did not tell you about his… state, so I won’t be the one to bear the news to you.” You frowned a bit as you followed him to the stairs, only for him to stop you with a hand up to your face. “He’ll be alright, you just wait here and look pretty, and try to wipe those tears away before he sees you and we have a whole other problem.”
You blinked a few times at the orders, taking a step back as the man called Murray walked upstairs, followed by the two men behind him. You choked on a breath before you wiped your tears away, not knowing why that instruction was given to you at all, but it didn’t sound like a joke.
Should you call Steve? Someone? But who? Who knew about this and who didn’t? Wayne obviously knew, but Wayne was no longer here to help his nephew, and you didn’t know how to help, because you didn’t know what the fuck was happening at all.
You heard some thumps upstairs, and you immediately moved to the bottom of the stairs in worry, wanting to see if Eddie was okay. You bit your bottom lip as you felt your eyes burning with incoming tears of frustration this time. Why did you have to leave? Why today?
And you waited. You paced around the living room, you cleaned the small bathroom in the hallway to keep yourself occupied. You cleaned the kitchen counters, and you just kept yourself busy. You heard some mumbling and talking upstairs, but nothing you could pinpoint directly. You were sitting on the stool of the kitchen’s island counter, your face in your hands, and you were really debating sending this Murray guy to go eat ass, and for you to see Eddie.
But the sound of the metallic stairs brought you out of your nerves, and you immediately stood up, turning to see Murray walking down, followed by the two guys who were helping Eddie by his shoulders. You felt your heart coming out of your throat as you saw his state. He was wearing pants now, and he looked like he had the worst fever of his life. His head was hanging down as the guys moved him slowly.
You weren’t noticing the eyes of the man you just met. He was studying your face, your movements, your features. You couldn’t care less about anything else but Eddie right now. Nothing else mattered. They finally reached the bottom step, and Eddie’s head looked up after you heard him take a deep breath in.
His eyes locked with yours. You needed to rush to him, but the man’s hand stopped you, pressing his palm against your chest, and then you saw Eddie’s face. He was hissing, baring his teeth at the man, and your eyes widened. He looked like an animal. His teeth seemed… weird. Or maybe it was the adrenaline of your worry, your imagination playing tricks on you.
“Murray.” His voice was strained, but the bald man sighed, shaking his head.
“I know for a fact that if I hadn’t sedated you just now, my throat would be gushing out blood, wouldn’t it?” His hand went down from in front of you, and you were confused, worried, and maybe slightly afraid. This situation was not normal. Not at all. You cannot think of a single condition or illness that could provoke this much commotion.
The men started walking Eddie to the front door, and you saw how Eddie kept trying to turn to look at you, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving. You hadn’t noticed you were blindly following them. Your eyes found Murray’s, and you glared at him.
“Whatever is happening, you are taking me with you.”
He scoffed, a mocking smile spreading on those stupid lips of his.
“And I suppose a little girl like you will make me?”
You got out of the passenger’s seat of Murray’s car, slamming the door behind you.
You stood in front of what looked like a scientific research place, a big building with tanks on the sides, vents, pipes that went from place to place and you felt a shiver running down your spine. What exactly was this place?
Murray got out of his car, grumbling under his breath as he made his way to you. His ear was reddened from the pull you gave it, and his chin hurt from how hard you had pulled on his beard.
“This is a disguise.”
“What?” You turned to face him only for him to roll his eyes. He made you follow him to a side door of the building, not the door Eddie had gone in. The men got him inside a small van, and Murray and you followed right behind. This place was almost on the outskirts of the city, hidden completely.
He entered the door using the electrical pad on the side, punching in the code and then a scan of his finger. Whatever this was, it was heavy shit. He walked inside first, and you cautiously followed. The place turned from gray to clearer colors, much like a hospital. He stopped you at a disinfecting section with a sink, a shoe rack with disposable slippers, and bottles of sanitizer.
“Take off your shoes, wash your hands, drown yourself in alcohol, and go wait in that room over there.” He pointed at a room that looked like it was meant to be a waiting room. “I have to go treat your boyfriend before he goes feral.”
You didn’t miss the mocking tone in the word ‘boyfriend’, making you frown. He took off his shoes, and your eyes followed him as he walked away. You saw nurses rushing to him, and you could only guess he was giving instructions to them.
“Feral?” The word tumbled out of your mouth in question as you took off your shoes, trying to calm your heart and your nerves. Eddie was safe now, wasn’t he? Was he an experiment? Was that man a good man? Should you trust that man? Eddie was the one who told you to call him, but–
Fuck– Fuck. You didn’t know what was going on, and this seemed now like a private hospital. Like a clinic for particular illnesses and conditions. Maybe that’s what it was. You washed your hands in the sink, and then you rubbed alcohol all over them. You left your shoes in the rack next to it, and you put on the visitor slippers that were covered in sterilized bags.
Was Eddie… terminally ill?
You felt like throwing up at the thought. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your life would be without him now. Your brain was being mean to you, that’s all it was. He wasn’t terminally ill. He would have told you this before, wouldn’t he? He–
Your breathing started to quicken as you felt panic setting in. You felt nauseous, and you rushed into the room that Murray told you to wait in. There was a couch, a coffee machine, and a table with snacks, but you didn’t care. You had to walk. You had to breathe. You had to try to fucking breathe.
But every time Eddie’s pained face came back, you couldn’t help but feel your tears gathering up in your eyes. Your heart ached for him in ways it hadn’t ached in so long. You wanted him to be alright, please. Someone had to listen. Someone had to save Eddie.
You didn’t know how much time had passed. You didn’t even want to look at your phone. You were sitting down on the couch, your head in your hands as you rested your elbows on your knees. The sound of the door opening made you look up, ready to ask for Eddie’s health to Murray, only for you to sit back in shock, because it wasn’t the bald man walking through the door.
“Steve?”
His eyes were wide as he looked down at you, as well as pity was etched in them. You frowned at seeing him here with you, but then, it only meant–
“You know…” You whispered, and he closed his mouth, gulping.
“Do you?” He asked, and all you could do was move your head from side to side slowly, denying it. Your stomach was turned, completely flipped upside down. His face was also a worried one as he looked down at you, frowning.
“Will you please tell me what’s wrong with him?” You asked, and he winced, shaking his head a bit. You wanted to scream. Why was no one telling you anything? Why were you being kept in the dark like this?
“Ah, Steve.” Your head snapped towards the bald man walking in, making you stand up from the couch. You looked at them, back and forth. They clearly knew each other which only made you even more confused and panicked.
“Is he alright?” Steve asked, and you were still in shock, your voice not really coming out of your lips. Murray’s eyes found yours, and he sighed.
“Steve is Eddie’s second emergency contact.” Steve’s eyes found yours, and you were staring at him in complete silence. You weren’t surprised at that fact, but it was still quite the surprise to see him walking into this room. “He told me you are all from the same friend group?”
You finally reacted, giving him a quick nod. Steve took a deep breath in, turning to the bald man again, a little more stern.
“Is he alright?”
“He is fine. He is now stable after I gave him his medicine.”
You finally let the breath you were holding out of your lungs. You plopped down on the couch, feeling just a tad of relief wash over you as you finally knew that Eddie was alright. That he was fine. That he was probably no longer in that pain he seemed to be in. Steve’s eyes were looking your way, gulping as he looked back at Murray.
“Is he awake?”
“He is… and he is actually asking for his Peach.” Your eyes widened, and you looked up at the man who you now noticed was wearing a white robe. You stood up immediately, feeling yourself moving automatically towards Murray.
“He is asking for me?”
“Oh yes. I believe… You two have a lot to talk about.” He said, his eyes looking at your friend for a moment, and you felt the nerves starting to eat away at your stomach again. Your eyes found Steve’s, and he gave you a small, encouraging smile, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. His eyes, though, were filled with something that looked like worry.
You gulped and nodded, letting the man guide you out of the room while Steve stayed behind. You felt nervous, the anticipation eating away at your stomach. You weren’t sure what to expect, and you weren’t even sure how you would encounter Eddie in that room.
“If you don’t mind me asking, for how long have you two been dating?” Murray asked out of nowhere, and you stuttered a bit as you tried to get out of your thoughts. Maybe he was trying to make your nerves go away by doing small talk?
“We… We became official yesterday.” He hummed as he kept walking. You watched through a window into a room where there was a research team inside, running tests with small machines and test tubes filled with liquids. You frowned in question and turned to look at him, ready to ask, only for him to interrupt again.
“And for how long have you two been fucking?”
“Excuse me?” You were taken aback by the nerve of this strange man. Because, who the fuck asks that out of nowhere?
“I asked for how long you two have been engaging in physical intimacy. I thought I was clear enough.” He acted as if his question was something people asked in day-to-day life when getting to know someone else.
“It’s– That’s none of your business.” You replied, and he stopped walking completely, turning to face you.
“You see, that’s where you’re wrong. It totally is, and you’ll soon find out why. So, tell me, since when have you two been engaging in a physical relationship?” His eyes were filled with ego yet truth. You blinked a few times as you gathered your thoughts, recounting the months.
“Five months.” He squinted a little bit, giving a small nod. He straightened up and continued walking, which made you follow, looking at the back of his head with a frown.
“Exclusive?” He asked, and you gulped a bit, looking down at the floor.
“Two months out of those five.” He hummed, and you wondered what was going on inside his head. Why was this information important to him?
“And if you don’t mind me asking, and again, I have to know. You didn’t have any troubles in… taking someone like him?” You gasped, stopping in your tracks as you stared at the shininess of the back of his head.
“Now, that you don’t need to know–!”
“Ah, so you can. Gotcha.” He kept walking as if you had never stopped, and you scoffed under your breath, following him once again. He finally stopped in front of a door, and you saw Eddie’s name on the side, making your heart jump out of your chest. Your hand immediately went to the knob of the door, but the man stopped you, glaring at you. “First things first.”
“What–”
“This is a secret establishment. Whatever you see here, you don’t go talking about it outside. Once you know the truth of what we truly are, you will play stupid, and you will keep calling us scientific researchers, alright?”
You were stunned as you looked at him, the fear creeping up over your spine as you stared at this man. He was not joking. He was not playing around despite how stupid he looked. He was serious, and whatever this establishment was, it was either illegal or too important for normal people to know it existed.
And Eddie was part of it.
And you would dive into the unknown for him. Fight it if you must.
So you nodded in agreement, and his hand left your wrist. You took a deep breath in and opened the door slowly, already hearing beeping machines, and Eddie’s scent was already lingering inside. You walked inside, and Murray gave a small nod, closing the door behind you.
Every step you managed to take, the more your stomach flipped, but the moment you saw him sitting up on the bed with a patient’s robe on and the IVs clinging to his arms, you couldn’t help the tears that filled your eyes. It was relief, happiness, worry, anguish, anxiety, all of it mixed together. He had his well-known bun on his head as he played with the pick necklace around his neck.
His head snapped upwards the moment you walked in, his eyes clashing with yours. His arms instantly opened up, and you rushed towards him, almost knocking him over when you got on the side of the bed and hugged him, fresh tears coming out of your eyes from how overwhelmed you felt. How fucking crazy the past hours have been. How crazy your day had already started the moment you opened your eyes.
His arms engulfed you tightly, pulling you into him in a protective embrace. His face came to rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you could feel his hot breath against your skin. You could feel his heat all over you, and you were just relieved to see him alright. You were relieved to not see him wince or heave with his breathing like you had.
“I was so worried…” You mumbled into his shoulder, and he nodded quickly, giving a soft kiss to your neck.
“I know… I know Peach…” He gulped, and you could hear it. You slowly pulled away, but his hands were not going to let you go away. He reached to grab your hands in a tight grip, as if making sure you wouldn’t go farther away from him, even if you were already too close.
“What happened? Why–” You didn’t even know where to begin. What was the right question? His eyes were locked with yours as silence engulfed the both of you. He took a deep breath in before talking again.
“My… I missed my medication.” You assumed he did, Murray said something along the lines of those words. You nodded a bit, still frowning.
“I… was it that… vial I saw in your cabinet?” His eyes widened, and he straightened up on the bed as his grip tightened around your hands.
“You saw that? And you never… asked?” You slowly shook your head at him and then gave him a shrug.
“I… I assumed you would tell me at your own time…” Your hands were suddenly moved, and lips covered the top of them. A fond kiss from his part, a sign of gratitude. You felt your belly flip over as you moved a bit on the bed, fixing your seating. “Eddie… what was that?”
Silence surrounded the two of you, and you could hear your heartbeat racing as fast as Eddie’s machine was beeping. At least you weren’t alone in the nerves. He put your hands down, his fingers intertwined with yours.
“I… I missed the medication because of… Because of Wayne. I forgot to inject myself and– And I also got a little distracted with our relationship that I… forgot to get more.” You blinked a few times, feeling the guilt wash over you, but before you could talk, Eddie was already looking at you. “Don’t feel guilty.”
You frowned in question because– How did he know? There wasn’t a hint of smugness there now, nor cheekiness, nor a joke like he always did when he knew exactly what you were feeling. Maybe he just… knew you too well.
“And now, they gave you that medication?” He slowly nodded as his thumbs rubbed over your hands, and you could see him gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“There’s a reason… of why I can sense what you’re feeling. What people feel.” You sat there, feeling the anxiety washing over you little by little.
“You said it’s because you learnt to read people like the back of your hand…” He scoffed at your words, shaking his head.
“Yeah, no, that’s… not it…” He waited for a few seconds before his eyes found yours. They were intense, knocking your breath away completely. “Sweetheart, you’ve never wondered about my size?”
You flushed at his question, but it felt as if you were caught red-handed. You have. Eddie was big. Bigger than you’ve ever seen. You weren’t sure how you could take him the way you did, but you dismissed it as a coincidence, and maybe there were many like Eddie out there. You shrugged but still nodded at him once.
“Yes, but… I never really gave it much thought after…” You admitted, and he nodded, his jaw clenching.
“Have you ever wondered why I am so protective?” You frowned at that, not really understanding what he was saying or why he was asking such things.
“Because you care for your friends–”
“Remember how I treated you.” And you did. Your heart ached as the memories started coming back. His cold shoulder. His remarks. His insults. All because you weren’t telling the truth to–
“Robin.” He nodded, gulping once again. You sat there in silence as everything started sinking in, staring at him as the memories kept coming rushing back, puzzle pieces you didn’t know were there. “You… knew I was lying… not because you had a hunch.”
“No. I knew you were hiding stuff. I knew that was hurting Robin. I could feel it. I could… smell it.”
Now that threw you off guard. You were not expecting something like that to come out of his mouth. You tilted your head, the frown never leaving your features, because you couldn’t be any more confused right now. You weren’t sure what he was saying or what he was talking about at this point.
“What do you mean, smell it?” He straightened up at your question, taking a deep breath in as if bracing himself.
“Peach, have you ever seen a bottle of cologne in my room?” You scoffed at that and shrugged.
“I don’t know? You clearly use some, so I’m guessing it’s in a drawer or something–”
“I don’t use cologne.” You sat there, giving a humorless scoff as you shook your head.
“Are you joking right now?”
“Tell me, can you smell me each time I walk into a room?” You blinked a few times and slowly nodded, giving him a small shrug.
“Yeah, I mean, I assume you reapply your cologne–”
“Why would I bring cologne to a clinic?” His eyes were serious as they stared into yours, and– You could smell him when you walked in. “Why would I put on cologne for work? You should only smell sweat, yet you always tell me I smell good.”
You were staring at him as if he had grown a second head. You were not sure you were following the conversation at this point. You were not completely sure if you were in a reality any longer.
“So… you have a strong scent on your body, so what?” He took a deep breath in and sighed, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath in, then out.
“You’re confused, worried. You are also uncomfortable, probably because of something Murray said. That man has less human tact than a fucking alien. Am I wrong?” You were wide-eyed, staring at him. How did he know? How–? “Smell. I can smell your emotions on you. Just how I could smell you were hiding something when you met us. How I could smell your distress when you saw Henry after so long. How I could smell your worry when you were dating Mr. Model.”
His words were snarky, sharp, yet you were frozen in place as you listened. Your mind was no longer functioning because– You weren’t completely sure you were hearing him right? You weren’t sure of anything he was saying. You wondered if he was high, or if this was some joke, or if this was the beginning of him going crazy.
“I’m… I’m sorry Eddie, I’m not following, and honestly this sounds… this sounds fucking insane–”
“I know. I know it does but– Fuck, Peach, I– I don’t want you to think… less of me, or– or think I’m a freak.” His bottom lip wobbled, and you saw the real fear and how scared he was behind those eyes. Your hands let go of his, and you cradled his face, making him look at you. You saw tears in those eyes. Tears of fear, of anxiety, of nervousness, but also of desperation.
“I would never. Ever. Even if everything you’re saying sounds crazy– I’m sure you have an explanation for it.” You stated, and he gulped, nodding slowly. His hands came to rest on top of yours, and your stomach twisted as he stared at you, as he measured his next words. He licked his lips, his grip tightening on your hands as if making sure he kept you there.
“Peach…”
And your breathing stopped as he said the next words. Words you never in your life thought you would hear. Words so ancient that you wondered if you dreamed them.
Words that in this modern life, in these modern days, should not even be said, because they didn’t exist.
Words that would change your relationship completely.
Words that would completely change you.
Words that made the world around you freeze.
“I’m an Alpha.”
end of chapter 26
a/n: FINALLY THIS BITCH IS OFF MY CHEST. the omegaverse starts NOW.
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I will start deleting people that do not interact with my posts.
Chapter XII warnings: 18+ (minors dni) - violence and graphic descriptions of injury, death mentions, alcohol mention, choking, hair pulling, smut, mention of forced sex work, angst, hurt with no comfort. 7.4k
A/N: we’re nearing the end… there’ll be just one more chapter to come. Thank you for your patience as always 🫶🏼
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With the failed failed assassination attempt, Thalia’s execution, and the new developments in yours and Geta’s relationship, it was no surprise that the previously agreed plans had slipped your mind.
You had almost entirely forgotten that Geta was needed in Caledonia. That is until one bright early afternoon, when your peaceful luncheon was disrupted by an announcement.
“Imperators.” Senator Amulius says with a bow.
“My apologies for the interruption. General Acacius has arrived.”
In that moment your stomach turned over.
Acacius was here to take your husband to a battle site, to some hellish war taking place oceans away from your home. Away from you.
“Well don’t just stand there. Send him in!” Caracalla snaps from the other end of the table.
Amulius waves a hand to the guards at the doors to the dining hall.
As they open Acacius is revealed.
He stands tall in a uniform designed to highlight his status as a hero, unlike the practical garb you were accustomed to seeing him wear. White leather straps swing at his thighs when he walks, his broad torso accentuated by an equally bright chest plate, gold accents glittering with every movement. You watch in silence as he walks confidentially to stand before the emperors, offering a deep bow as a sign of his respect.
“Welcome home Acacius.” Geta says with a tight lipped smile.
Your husband and Caracalla both stand and move to greet the General. You too rise from your chair, but hold back, suddenly unsure of approaching. You had no fear of the General, he had never been anything but kind to you. At any other time you would have been glad to see him. But knowing the reason for his visit left you unsettled.
“Emperor Geta. Emperor Caracalla. It is good to see you both in fine health.” Acacius says stiffly.
“Let’s skip the niceties.” Caracalla replies in a bored voice.
“We have much to discuss.”
“Very well.” The General replies.
“The senators have gathered already your majesties.” Amulius says.
“Let us not waste more time then.” Caracalla sneers, already making his way to the doors.
The General hesitates for a moment, his eyes flitting to where you stand.
“Will the empress be joining us?” He asks.
You open your mouth to reply, but Geta beats you to it.
“No.” He says firmly.
You send him a look that would strike fear into the hearts of lesser men, but Geta is unfazed by your temper.
“Stay here and finish your meal.” He instructs.
“I will find you when we are done.”
“I really think that I-“
Whatever argument you had planned dies on your tongue as Geta leaves, the General quick to follow. You are left to stew in your anger, humiliation burning hot in your chest. It had been so long since Geta had shut you out, and the rejection stung all the more that others had been witness to his dismissal. You leave the dining hall immediately, your appetite lost, and storm back to your bedchamber to sulk in privacy.
≿━━━━༺ ✦ ༻━━━━≾
Hours pass, and Geta does not return.
The afternoon drags on painfully, as though the sun were taking its time to cross the sky merely to spite you. You refuse to leave your room, but its contents offer you little distraction from your thoughts. Every book you open holds no interest. You sit at your desk with both parchment and quill, but the page remains untouched. You alternate between pacing the room and dozing on the couch, wondering why you were not privy to the emperor’s plans.
Not long after your evening meal is delivered to your room your husband arrives. The long day has clearly worn on him, his hair dishevelled and his expression tired. He wanders to where you sit halfheartedly pushing your meal across your plate and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“How was your day?” He asks.
A scoff is all the reply he gets.
“What is the matter?”
When you still refuse to answer Geta takes hold of your hair at the root. He’s not unkind with the way that he pulls, but still firm enough that your head is titled back and you are forced to look him in the eyes.
“Do you really wish to spend our last night together in silence?” He says softly.
You can’t help but gasp at that.
“Last night? Surely you are not leaving so soon!” You exclaim.
“I’m sorry to say that I am. This war has gone on long enough dove. The sooner I get to Caledonia, the sooner I can return.”
“But.. I thought we had more time. I thought there would be more to do, arrangements to be made…”
“It has all been done. The fleets have been ready for days. We have simply been waiting for the General to return and brief us on the situation.”
“I cannot imagine the General is happy. He has been in Rome for less than a day and you would already have him back on a ship?”
“The General is not going anywhere.” Geta says simply.
“Whatever do you mean?” You ask.
“Acacius will be staying here.”
“Why? Is he injured?”
Acacius had looked well enough when you saw him. Perhaps a little tired from the travel, with a few lingering scratches and bruises from battle, but nothing that would suggest he was unfit to return.
“No. He is staying Rome to be your new personal guard.”
Your eyes widen, brows darting up your forehead.
“Surely not.”
“It has already been agreed.” Geta shrugs.
“Why would he agree to that? It is an insult - a demotion!”
“I hardly think that being responsible for the protection of the most important woman in all of the empire is an insult.”
“It is in comparison to leading the empire’s army. What glory is there for him in trailing around after me?”
Geta scoffs, waving his hands dismissively.
“Truth be told dove, I think the General cares little for glory. He is glad to see the back of this war, and grateful to be trusted with such a task.”
“And do you. Trust him, I mean?”
The question gives Geta reason to pause for a moment. The muscles in his forehead pinch when he frowns, chestnut eyes cast up to the ceiling while he ponders.
“Yes.” He answers finally.
“The General and I disagree about many things. I think he is stubborn and emotional. No doubt he would describe me as arrogant and careless, if he could speak such thoughts aloud. But despite our differences I can acknowledge that there is no finer soldier in all of Rome’s armies. And I know that he respects you.”
“He barely knows me.” You counter.
“And yet, in our discussions he spoke so highly of you.” Geta says with a wry smile.
“It seems that in the short time you spent with him you made quite the impression. I know Acacius will see to it that you do not come to harm.”
“And what about you?” You ask, standing and wrapping your arms around Geta’s narrow waist, stroking the smooth fabric of his robe. “
“If Rome’s finest soldier is here with me, then who protects you?”
“An entire army dulcissima. Scores of men will be willing to lay down their lives for me. You need have no concern.”
You offer no reply. Tucking your face into the crook of Geta’s neck, pouting against his warm skin.
“Dove.” Geta says softly.
You ignore him, holding tighter about his waist.
‘Look at me.” He urges. A few seconds pass before a sharp breath is inhaled through his teeth, his irritation growing when he takes the fistful of your hair once again and tugs your head back. It still does not hurt, but the threat of pain is there.
“I need you to listen to me.” Geta says.
You scowl at his tone, feeling chastised like a child.
“I am listening.” You reply petulantly.
Geta sighs. The white of his eyes flash when he rolls them, and the ever present flame that flickers in your chest burns a little brighter in response. Anger and arousal seemed to be your two most common emotions around your husband, and he fuelled them both with casual ease at any given moment.
“Geta…” you mutter, your tone a low warning.
“Alright, I do not wish to fight with you.” He says. Some of the tension leaves your body when he cups your cheeks between gentle palms.
“But this is important. When I am gone, I do not want you to spend your time worrying about me. I will be perfectly safe, and even if I am not, there is little you would be able to do to help me. Sitting around here fretting over me will achieve nothing.”
“Bold of you to assume I would have nothing better to do than to pine for you emperor.” You snap.
Although there was some truth to Geta’s words. You might not be about to waste away in bed crying for your lover like some pathetic fool, but there would surely be a part of your mind dedicated to him, wondering when or indeed if he would return to you.
“I know, you’ll hardly notice I’m gone.” Geta drawls.
“But I need you to keep your wits about you. Even with Acacius close by you will not be invincible.”
“Do you think it likely that someone will make a move against me while you are gone?” You ask.
“It is almost certain.” Geta whispers. The corners of his lips pull down, fear swirling in his doe-like eyes.
“I’m sure it will not take long for word to reach our enemies that Rome is without her leaders, and they must already know that a good portion of our men are overseas. I have increased the number of soldiers guarding the edges of the city, and the increased security measures are still in place from the colosseum incident.”
A shiver runs down your spine, remembering the force with which the arrow had struck Geta’s throne, splintering the wood just inches away from his skull.
“I’m more concerned with those within the palace walls.” You admit.
“As am I.”
Geta grimaces. He pulls you closer, moving you both until your back is pressed to the wall, his chest flush with yours. One hand coming to rest at your throat. His fingertips press lightly, seeking, finding the pulse that thrums below the skin and resting there as though the faint throbbing brings him comfort.
“You are not to go anywhere without the General. Do you understand?” Geta whispers.
“Well surely he will not accompany me ever-“
“Everywhere dove. I mean it.” Geta snaps.
“You do not take a single step without him by your side. He will be your shadow while I am gone.”
“So you mean to tell me you wish me to take him with me to the baths?”
Geta’s teeth grind together, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.
“Yes.” He snarls, as though the word pains him.
“I didn’t think you were the sharing type, husband.” You mock.
“That’s enough!” Geta hisses. The fingers that had been gently caressing your throat now press down harder, just enough to have panic flashing in your eyes.
“The General has been given strict instructions. If he touches you, if he so much as looks at you in a way that I deem inappropriate, then I will crucify him. Do you think I want this? To have another man sitting at the water’s edge while you are stripped bare and vulnerable? To have another sleep in the bedchamber I share with my wife?!”
“He’s sleeping in our room?!” You gasp.
“He will have his own bed dove.” Geta sneers, a meanness in his eyes that has nervous energy stirring in your belly.
“Trust me, when I return my side of the bed had best be cold and neglected.”
You know you should leave it alone. You can feel how worked up Geta is getting, fury rolling off of him in waves. But teasing him is like picking at a healing wound - you know you should let it be, but you just can’t help yourself. And he had embarrassed you today. He deserved a little punishment.
“Or what?” You whisper.
“What will you do to me Geta? If I get lonely on one of those nights without you. What if I am aching for you, for your touch, and you’re not there to satiate the need. The General would be right there. It would be so easy to cry out for him and-“
Your words are cut off by the palm that squeezes tight around your neck, little more than a squeak escaping your lips before Geta’s crash down to meet them. The kiss is messy and furious, his teeth nipping at your lips until blood spills, his tongue thrusting roughly inside. Between the assault of his mouth and the pressure on your throat you cannot breathe. With each passing second your mind grows hazier, a distorted darkness blurring the edges of your vision. It spreads, shrinking your view until there is nothing left but Geta, his pretty wild eyes and swollen glossy lips.
He watches you splutter and struggle with a smirk on his face. You should be terrified. He could kill you so easily like this, just a little more pressure, just a little more time.
But you trust him completely. You have seen every side of this twisted man and still want him, so much so that you lean into his touch, pressing your throat harder against his hand and matching his maniacal grin with one of your own.
Geta chuckles softly, shaking his head in disbelief, and releases your neck. Your head spins when you suck in a greedy gulp of air, your screaming lungs expanding in your chest. The exhale is shaky, and before you can draw in another breath Geta’s lips are back on you. This time his hands take yours and he staggers backwards, hurrying to pull you in the direction of the bed. You need no convincing, following him on shaking legs with your chest still heaving.
Unlike your first time, Geta is not gentle. But you don’t want him to be. It is unspoken, but still clear that you both need this, a releasing of pent up tension and worries.
His hips snap with a ferocity that shakes the bed, the ornately carved headboard slamming noisily against the wall. You cling to him, nails puncturing his shoulders until crimson rivulets run free, staining his porcelain skin and the sheets. You snarl, and he growls. He bites, and you bite back harder. You cum with a cry that will echo down the halls, and he follows swiftly behind with a shout, more of his seed spilling into you.
By the time it is done you are both marked. Bruises and scratches littering skin, Geta’s cheeks flushed ruddy, your brow glistening with sweat.
Finally sated, you bury yourselves down beneath the sheets, pulling linens over your head in an attempt to seal out the world. In the little sanctuary of your making, you can forget all that waits outside for you, at least for a moment. Geta pulls you to lay with your head on his chest, and you fall asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat for one last night.
≿━━━━༺ ✦ ༻━━━━≾
Geta awakens in the early hours to prepare for his departure. Despite his insistence that you remain in bed, you too dress and leave the room, refusing not to be there to bid him farewell.
Your home is a buzzing hive of activity despite the sun having barely begun to rise. Servants and soldiers scurry down the corridors, senators wiping sleep from their eyes as they go over the final preparations.
When you walk out on to the steps hand in hand with your husband you find General Acacius already waiting for your arrival.
“Your highnesses.” He says in greeting. He bows his head to you both, his greying curls rustling in the soft breeze.
“General.” Geta replies with a nod.
“They are ready for you imperator.” Acacius says, gesturing to the carriages lining the path that leads to the gate.
“So nice of you to finally join us.” A braying voice calls. You spy Caracalla’s head hanging from the window of the first carriage, his cold blue eyes narrowing and lips pulling into a sneer.
“I’m surprised he beat you here.” You comment dryly.
“I’m told that his ornatrix had great difficulty rousing him.” Acacius says. If you didn’t know better you would say that his lips appear to twitch at the corners as though fighting back a smile.
“Well that will happen if he insists on drinking himself into a stupor every night.” Geta replies, rolling his eyes.
Your husband turns to face the General.
“You remember all that we discussed?” He asks.
“Of course imperator.”
“And you remember the consequences if you do not keep your word?”
“Yes your highness. I assure you, I would sooner lay down my life than see your wife come to harm.” Acacius answers.
“Let us hope it does not come to that.” You smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. Acacius’s eyes flit to you for a moment, before returning to Geta.
“I will keep her safe.” He reassures.
“See to it that you do.” Geta says lowly.
“Now General, I would like a moment alone with my wife.”
Acacius nods and steps back. With so many people around you are offered little privacy for your farewells, but Geta shields you from view of the waiting soldiers, turning his back to the carriages and cupping your face in his hands.
“Do as he says.” He says.
“You know I’m not one for following orders imperator.” You smirk. Geta grips your cheeks harder in warning.
“I only jest. I will listen to him, I swear it.”
“Good.” Geta sighs. His umber eyes trace a path across your face, as though he is committing every fine detail to memory. You do the same. Memorising the plush of his lips, the dusting of freckles across his nose, the way his lashes kiss the top of his cheeks with every slow blink.
An ache blooms in your chest, so ferocious and sudden that for a moment you think you might collapse from the pain. You want to wind your arms tight around your husband’s waist, refuse to let him leave without you. How will you bear to be apart from him for so long? There was a time that you thought you hated the man before you, and now he was the oxygen that you needed to breathe.
Geta kisses you once. A tender, lingering thing, just a soft brush of his lips against yours.
When he pulls back your lips fall open, and the words tumble out on a sigh before you can stop them.
“I love you.”
Your husband stares at you. For once he seems at a loss for words. The moment stretches on uncomfortably. You hold your breath. Waiting. Pleading with your eyes for him to say it back. To say anything.
“I know.” He whispers finally.
Then he turns and makes his way down the steps. He enters his carriage without so much as a glance back in your direction.
≿━━━━༺ ✦ ༻━━━━≾
The sound of the carriage wheels turning over the path fade into the distance behind you, but you can hardly hear them over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You hurry down the halls you had just walked with your husband, but now you are alone.
Perhaps not entirely alone. Another set of quick footsteps falls in line behind you.
“Empress?” The general calls, worry colouring his tone.
Ignoring him you head straight for your room. You don’t want to be around anyone. No bumbling senators or well meaning servants. A lump has formed in your throat, constricting your airways and making your chest tight.
Geta’s words echo in your head.
I know. I know. I know.
He sounded so resigned, almost.. disappointed. You curse yourself under your breath. Stupid, foolish girl. How could you have ever expected more? Expect that someone who was so clearly guarded with his heart could return your affections.
Upon swinging open the door to your bedchamber you realise you have made a mistake.
The air in here smells like Geta. The jewels that he did not choose to wear still sit atop the dresser, glinting at you in mocking. The bedsheets are still rumpled, the imprint of his body left on the mattress. A servant girl smoothes her hand across Geta’s pillow. She’s only doing her duty, but the sight of her touching the place where his head had laid sparks a rage in your chest.
“Get out!” You bark. The girl jumps, startled by the tone she is unused to hearing from you. Thankfully she does not dare question it, nodding and quickly leaving.
You lean against the dresser for support. Your legs feel like they will give out on you at any moment.
“Your highness. Are you alright?” A familiar voice asks from the doorway.
“Leave me.” You order.
Acacius sighs, stepping in to the room and closing the door behind him.
“I want to be alone!” You shout.
“I cannot leave you your highness.”
“Yes you can! You forget yourself General. You answer to me, and I do not want you here!”
“I’m sorry.” He says softly.
“But above all I answer to the Emperor. And he has been clear that I am not to let you out of my sight.”
A laugh bubbles up in your throat.
“He doesn’t care General. Not really. You aren’t here for my safety, he’s likely only asked you to guard me because he doesn’t trust me. And he’s gone now. He won’t know if you are by my side or not. So just go.”
Tears begin to leak from your eyes, and gravity wins in it’s battle against your weary body. You stumble, your knees wobbling as a sob tears free of your throat. The General is quick, crossing the room and catching you by the waist before you can hit the ground.
“Just leave. Please just leave me.” You whimper.
He says nothing. With firm but gentle hands he guides you to sit on the edge of your bed, the sheets now cool to the touch. It only makes you cry harder.
Acacius crouches. He looks up at you with dark eyes, the lines on his forehead deepening with his frown.
“Your highness. May I - may I speak freely, for a moment?” He asks.
You wave a dismissive hand, attempting to stifle your sobs while your cheeks heat with humiliation. You don’t want his pity. You don’t want him, or anyone, seeing you this weak.
“I do not pretend to know much when it comes to matters of the heart.” The General begins.
He clears his throat, as though embarrassed by his own forwardness.
“But it is is clear that the Emperor’s departure is distressing for you. I am sorry, there is little I can do to bring you comfort in this moment.”
“I am fine.” You lie, wiping at your wet cheeks.
Acacius gives you a sad kind of smile.
“Your husband cares for you deeply. That much is clear to me.”
You roll your eyes, but he ignores it.
“Even if you do not believe his reasons are genuine, I have sworn an oath to protect you. You must know that there are people who would see you come to harm.”
“I know that.” You snap.
“Then I am asking you, please let me do my duty. Let me protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection.” You grumble.
“I am sure you don’t.” The General smiles.
“But you have it anyway. And I think these weeks will pass far easier for the two of us if we are not fighting every moment.”
“Careful General. It sounds like you are getting dangerously close to giving me orders.” You smile a little, to let him know you are only teasing.
“I wouldn’t dream of it empress.” He replies.
Exhaling a deep sigh, you wipe the last of the moisture from your lashes. You roll your shoulders back and tilt up your chin, finally regaining your composure.
“If we are to spend so much time together, I think we can forgo the formality of titles. At least in private. May I call you Marcus?”
He raises his brows in surprise.
“Of course. If you wish it.”
“Good.”
You stand, brushing the creases from your stola and shakily adjusting the dainty crown that sits atop your head.
“I think that I would like to enjoy a few moments of peace before heading to the senate. Will you accompany me for a walk through the gardens?” You ask.
“Of course I will. But before we begin the day, there is something I must do.”
Marcus makes his way across the room to the mahogany wardrobe in the corner. He opens the doors, revealing Geta’s clothing that was deemed unnecessary for his trip, lighter fabrics unsuitable for the frigid cold of Caledonia.
“Are you planning on dressing as my husband?” You joke.
“Not quite.” Marcus replies. He squats down, reaching to the very back of the wardrobe and retrieving a small box that you had not known was there. He brings it to you, holding it out in offering.
“What is it?” You ask.
“The Emperor insisted that I give you this.” He answers.
You take the box from him. It is an unassuming gift, made of plain oak with no elaborate carvings of decoration. Frowning, you lift the lid.
The inside of the box is lined with velvet, a deep red like fresh spilt blood. On the cushion rests a dagger. The blade is of the highest quality, sharpened to a deadly point, with a sleek golden handle, vine leaves carved around the hilt.
“Emperor Geta asked that you carry it with you at all times.” Marcus explains.
You carefully lift the dagger, feeling the subtle weight of it in your hand, turning it over to see how the blade shines in the light.
“It is exquisite.” You whisper.
“Indeed. I am hoping that you will never need to use it. But it is better that you have it.”
“I am sure most husbands gift their wives expensive jewellery or clothing before leaving them for months.”
“I am sure most men have wives who would not know what to do with such an item.” The General says wryly.
“That is probably true.” You reply.
You can’t help but smile. Perhaps you had been wrong. Geta might not love you, but he knows you. And you know that this gift is his way of acknowledging that. He wants you to be safe, but he has not left your life entirely in the hands of Acacius.
He trusts you to take care of yourself.
≿━━━━༺ ✦ ༻━━━━≾
You had suspected that the days would pass by at a painfully slow pace with Geta away.
Life in the palace could so often be boring: endless meetings and discussions that you did not care for, politics and power offering you little stimulation. Your husband’s company had provided respite. Brief moments of connection, a knowing look across the room, or a scathing remark whispered just between the two of you.
Now you would be alone, the empire left for you to run in the absence of its true rulers. Of course there would be few decisions of real importance for you to make. Geta and Caracalla had spent weeks in the lead up to their departure instructing the senate on how business was to continue with them gone. But you had your place: signing off on new laws and taxes, instructing on military strategy on the few occasions the senators deemed your opinion noteworthy, and being the face of the empire to the general public. To your dismay the games in the colosseum continued, although thankfully they were less frequent without Caracallas’s insatiable blood lust to appease. You did your best to feign interest and keep up appearances.
Through it all, Marcus proved to be better company thank you had anticipated. In public he was stoic, the perfect image of power and intimidation. He stood at your side, one hand always resting on the hilt of his sword. His expression was a near permanent scowl, dark eyes scanning crowds and assessing all potential threats with quiet calculation.
In some ways he reminded you of your husband.
The servants were wary of Acacius, most not daring to even look in his direction. The senators too seemed to fear him, particularly those who were more in Caracalla’s favour. You wondered how much they suspected. Did they know that the General was here to protect you from them as much as he was some anonymous assassin that might lurk within the city.
But behind closed doors Marcus softened, letting the mask of a soldier slip to reveal the true man underneath. You enjoyed his quick wit, and the fact that he treated you with respect not simply because of your title, but because he valued your intelligence.
In the evenings he would sit quietly at the opposite end of the plush sofa while your read, or teach you to play some of the strategic board games that the soldiers used to pass the time outside of battles. A sort of friendship had developed, an easy companionship that meant you no longer resented his constant presence.
There were still moments of awkwardness to navigate. Your trips to the baths had initially been uncomfortable. You weren’t thrilled by the idea of being naked and vulnerable around a man other than Geta. But Marcus was a gentleman, standing with his back to you while you undressed and bathed. He would talk to you while he kept his eyes trained on the door, not turning around until you reassured him that you were decent once again.
His company staved off the loneliness for most of the days. It was the nights that proved troublesome.
Every evening two soldiers were stationed outside of your door. No one had made a move to harm you in the weeks without the emperors, but Marcus was not about to let his guard down, and you know that he dreaded an attack in the night when he was less prepared. His simple bed was set up between your own and the entrance to your bedchamber, and he slept each night with his back to you, his sword within arms reach on the floor, and a dagger sheathed in his waistband.
You would lie awake in the quiet, listening to the sound of his breathing slow and deepen when he finally let himself fall asleep.
How you wished that you too could find that restful dream land. But it cruelly evaded you.
You would toss and turn for hours, reaching out across cold sheets and finding nothing but empty space where your husband should be. Those were the moments where you thought of him the most, and the longing in your chest ached with such ferocity you could hardly breathe.
Was he safe? Was he protected? Was he missing you as you did him, languishing away in a lonely bed thousands of miles away. You didn’t like to think of him feeling this same pain. But the alternative was more painful, the nagging fear in the back of your mind that perhaps he didn’t miss you at all. Maybe there was a concubine warming his bed, being touched in the way that you ached to be touched by him again. Maybe you did not even cross Geta’s mind. After all, he did not love you as you loved him.
≿━━━━༺ ✦ ༻━━━━≾
Geta could not recall the last time he felt so miserable.
Perhaps those weeks after Prisca’s death that he had spent filled with self-loathing, regret, and grief. But then he had you. To offer kind words and gentle, reassuring touches. You had been the constellations that guided him out of the darkness and into the light, much like the stars that the soldiers had kept watchful eyes on, using them to navigate their ships across unforgiving seas.
Now Geta’s sky was starless. Those same painful emotions of regret and guilt haunted him, but he was joined by an additional cruelty - loneliness.
It had been three weeks since the fleet had reached the shores of Caledonia. By the time of their arrival Geta was already missing you fiercely.
The journey had been relatively straightforwards, only minor storms encountered that presented little challenge to the experienced sailors. But it was long, over two weeks at sea with little to do but stare out across the waters in the direction of home thinking of you.
At least in Caledonia there were distractions. The emperors’ arrival was cause for celebration, a much needed boost of morale for the battle weary soldiers, some of whom had spent years away from Rome. The first night had been spent feasting, towering fires crackling and spitting dark clouds of smoke into the clear night sky, their light and warmth the backdrop to boyish laughter. Geta did his best to play his role. He greeted Generals with warmth, offered small smiles to well wishers, relayed tales of home to those eager to hear them.
And in the days that followed he continued to do his duty.
≿━━━━༺ ✦ ༻━━━━≾
The bright winter sun revealed the horrors that had been hidden by the veil of night, the celebrations quickly forgotten when the reality of war sank in.
Geta was guided through the camps, flanked by soldiers each side. His feet sank into the stinking mud, making each step an arduous task, biting wind and driving rain chilling him to the bone despite the furs he was draped in.
All around him was decay and despair. Men fought to keep the fires on the edge of the camp still burning in spite of the rain, but they weren’t to welcome the emperor’s arrival. They were funeral pyres, bodies of the fallen piled high, the scent of burning hair and flesh carried on the wind and clinging to Geta’s skin. He felt sure he would never be able to wash the stench away.
His brother walked a few paces ahead of him, flanked by his own men. Geta and Caracalla had hardly spoken more than a handful of words to one another since leaving Rome. There was a frostiness between them that rivalled the cold of Britannia.
They arrived at the entrance to one of many tents that housed the wounded. Caracalla peered inside, his nose wrinkling in disgust, always one to show emotions that were best kept hidden.
“Would you like to go in imperator? I’m sure then men would be grateful of any kind words you would offer them.” A General suggested.
“I think my time would be best spent discussing strategy.” Caracalla replied coolly.
Geta sighed. He knew he wasn’t the best at offering comfort, but it looked like once again he would be forced to make up for his brother’s shortcomings.
“Perhaps you could lead my brother to your weaponry.” Geta suggested.
“He can review what you are needing and see that the necessary supplies are brought in. I will talk to the wounded.”
Caracalla departed with an icy scowl sent Geta’s way, his brother’s suggestion likely feeling too close to being given orders. Still, he allowed the General to lead him away without complaint.
The soldiers left with Geta held open the flaps of the tent. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was really prepared for what he was about to see. But he knew that he owed it to these men. They had risked their lives for his empire, for Rome. It was because of them that you and he could reside in relative safety and boundless comfort. Rolling back his shoulders and arranging his features into a mask of composure, Geta stepped into the tent.
The first breath in he took once inside had his stomach turning. The air in the tent was thick with the cloying scent of blood, the sourness of infected wounds, and burnt flesh. Geta’s eyes watered immediately, and he blinked rapidly to clear them, doing his best to keep his breathing slow and even. He wanted to turn and flee, but instead forced himself onwards, deeper into the tent, wandering through the narrow paths left between the pallet beds. They covered almost every inch of floor space, the tent filled to burst with broken bodies. There must have been eighty men inside, maybe more. And there were four more tents just like this one.
The room fell quiet, the men doing their best to subdue their groans of pain in their emperor’s presence. Those who had been attending to injuries laid down their tools and bowed deeply.
“Please, continue.” Geta insisted.
“Do not let my being here distract you from what you are doing.”
After a moments hesitation, the men returned their focus to the wounded. Geta walked slowly through the tent, doing his best not to get in the way, stopping occasionally to offer kind words to the poor souls that looked up at him from their beds.
At the far end of the tent he came to a young man, barely more than a boy. Geta could hear his rasping breaths, his chest rattling with every shuddering exhale. A thin sheen of sweat shone on his skin, but he shivered beneath the thin blankets draped over his body. Geta couldn’t help but notice that beneath the covers he could see the shape of only one leg. A filthy bandage was wrapped tight around the boy’s head, soaked through with blood and pus. It covered one eye, the other the pale green of olive leaves. The boy kept his gaze on Geta as he approached.
“How old are you?” Geta asked quietly.
The boy gulped. When his chapped lips parted his voice came out as a rasping whisper.
“Seventeen Emperor.”
“So young.” Geta commented sadly.
“And yet you have suffered so much.”
“It is an honour you highness.” The boy insisted.
“The empire is grateful for you service. I am grateful.”
At the praise the boys lips pulled into a wide smile. It made him look younger still, his face so childlike.
“We will win this war soon your highness.”
“I have no doubt of it.”
“And then we’ll get to go home. I cannot wait to see Rome again.” The boy said wishfully.
Pity sat like a rock on Geta’s chest. He knew that this boy would never see the shores of Italy again. He would never return to his homeland. But it seemed cruel to acknowledge that harsh reality.
“You will be welcomed back a hero.” Geta smiled.
“Thank you emperor.”
The boy’s eye left Geta’s face, turning up to the roof of the tent, glazed over as though he were in a dream. His smile did not fade, his face illuminated with the joy of returning home from this hellscape. Geta slipped away, not wanting to destroy what little peace the young man had left.
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The days and weeks that followed Geta’s arrival in Caledonia developed into somewhat of a routine.
His mornings were spent discussing future plans of attack, studying maps searching for the best routes to sneak up on their enemies, or safe passages where a retreat could be made if necessary. Every day he sent more soldiers off to fight, and then waited anxiously for news.
It seemed that the senator’s assumptions had been correct. The war was progressing faster now that the Emperors were present, the men’s spirits uplifted and their bravery unwavering. The delivery of new weapons had certainly helped, and Geta had no doubt that the concubines brought in were doing more for morale than he or Caracalla ever could.
But for all the ground that was won, all the enemies slain or captured, there were still loses. Less than before, but good Roman men still fell. And the injured continue to arrive in droves, the medical tents always full to capacity.
Geta spent a few afternoons each week in those tents, sitting beside the soldiers who continued to cling desperately to life. He found himself unable to get used to it all. He could not become desensitised to these horrors, and often when he closed his eyes at night his mind replayed the days images for him.
His dreams were filled with the clashing of swords and the cries of the wounded, despite the fact that he had not once set foot on the battlefield. He was haunted by men with missing limbs, drenched in blood, with dark cavernous pits where their eyes should have been.
If it wasn’t the soldiers haunting Geta’s dreams, then it was you.
He missed you fiercely, as though he had had his own right arm torn from its socket. A piece of him was missing, left far behind in his home, in the care of another man. Geta could only pray that Acacius was staying true to his word to look after you, and that you were honouring your promise to do as you were told. He knew it did not come naturally to you.
There were nights, though few and far between, when Geta’s dreams of you were pleasant. Sometimes he was back in his chambers, or on occasion you visited him here, pulling back the drapes of his tent and slipping quietly inside.
Geta savoured those dreams. They were so real. The sound of your voice, the gentle perfume of your skin, the taste of your lips. He drank you in, losing himself in the memory of your touch. Sometimes he awoke convinced he could feel the scratch of your nails down his back, or the nip of your teeth on his neck.
He’d be desperate then, fumbling beneath the heavy furs draped over his bed to take his aching cock in hand. His fist was a poor substitute for the clutch of your heat or the wetness of your mouth, but it didn’t stop him from spilling hot across his stomach in minutes, like some adolescent who has just discovered self pleasure.
Often though, his dreams were more like nightmares. He’d chase through the halls of his home, the corridors unnaturally quiet. He’d hear your footsteps ahead, catch a glimpse of your skirts as you rounded a corner, always just out of reach. Geta would try to call out to you, beg you to stop running, but his voice was lost to him. No sound escaped his lips.
During one such dream he finally caught you. You’d fled out of the palace grounds, running through the gardens, perfectly pruned flowerbeds trampled beneath your feet. Geta stumbled after you, tripping over every root and stone, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
You stopped at the clearing. Your back to him, staring out across the pond where you had spent so many lazy afternoons in the cool water.
Geta panted, feeling sweat dot his brow. He reached out, touched your shoulder gently so as not to spook you. When you turned, he hoped to see that bright smile he adores so much, the apples of your cheeks rounded and lips stretched.
But you were not smiling. Your expression was one of hurt, surprise, and disappointment. It was a look he knows all too well.
It had been the last glimpse of your face he’d seen before he left for Caledonia.
Your words and his were whispered on the breeze. What began as a soft rustling built to a violent roar, repeated over and over. Even when he clamped his hands over his ears he could still hear them.
I love you.
I know.
I love you. I know. I love you. I know. I love you I know I love you I know iloveyouiknowiloveyouiknowilloveyouiknow.
Geta woke in a cold sweat. He was alone in his tent, but he swore he could still hear you.
He cursed himself for his cowardice. And in that quiet moment of reflection he made a vow to himself.
When he returns from this war he would not make the same mistake again. If you have it in your heart to tell Geta you love him still, then he will have a different answer for you this time.
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Translations:
Caledonia - what Ancient Roman’s called Scotland
Britannia - Ancient Roman term for Britain
Ornatrix - a personal servant, usually one who helps with dressing etc
Dulcissima - term of endearment
Stola - an article of clothing, not dissimilar in looks to a toga
