Aahah, thank you @bucky-murdock-moans 🤭 If we’re talking fictional characters, well… I’m really glad I was making the moodboard/header for Love on the Brain 😂
No pressure: @annathesillyfriend @patzammit @mysterioh @springautumn @the-soot-sprite @charmingprincess @captainson-of-coul and anyone brave enough to do this 😁
Ummmm yes please!! I’ll gladly claim the uncrowned king (sorry Nynaeve)
No pressure tags: @littlefreya @viking-raider @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @geminixevans-stan @musingsinmoonlight @angrythingstarlight @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @ao719 @zaffrenotes @thelastsock @luna-aestas @captainsy-cookiemonster @nuggsmum and anyone who sees this
𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 7: want some, need some.
𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - as wedding plans continue, you're struggling the avoid the reality of your situation, and a trip to the movies seems to only add more confusion.
𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 6.2k
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - bullying, implied/mentioned drug use, angst
As the guys started packing up their instruments, you stepped up to the stage, looking up at them. “Great job!” you offered— Eddie didn’t turn around from unplugging an amp, but you could see his cheeks rise with a grin.
Gareth beamed at you. “Thanks!”
“Where’d you guys learn to play like that?”
“Well, I actually taught myself,” Greg offered with a blush dusting his cheeks.
“Oh my god, really?!” you gasped. “That’s incredible! You’re so talented.”
“You know, I, uh—” Eddie stood up and spun around with a proud smirk, sauntering towards you— “I taught myself to play, too.”
“Yeah, uh huh,” you mumbled. “Jeff! Your bass sounds so cool!”
“Oh, thanks— my mom got it for me,” he explained, then cleared his throat. “That’s super lame now that I say it out loud.”
“Nah, that’s sweet,” you decided, gently colliding your fist with his shoulder in a show of friendly affection.
“I saw you singing along at the end,” Gareth noticed, “if you ever wanted to join in for a show as our backup singer—”
“Oh, nonono,” you shook your head, “I only sing in the shower.”
“That is bullshit,” Eddie pointed at you. “You sang Wouldn’t It Be Nice with me—”
“That was one time,” you defended.
“— you sang Your Love in my van—”
“I— that’s different,” you mumbled, cheeks warming at the memory.
“And I heard you belting Madonna in your room the other night,” he finished confidently.
“What— you heard that?!” you whined, getting even more embarrassed.
“Hard not to when you were blasting the radio like that,” he rolled his eyes. “I was halfway across the house and you were singing so loud— at night I lock the doors where no one else can see, I’m tired of dancing here all by myself, tonight I wanna dance with someone else!”
You jumped up on the stage to shove him as punishment for his unflattering impression of your singing voice. “Shut up! I do not sound like that!”
“You do!” he insisted.
“Whatever,” you frowned, crossing your arms, and he laughed a little more before getting back to packing up the band’s equipment.
When he walked away to carry one of the speakers out the back to where his van was parked, Jeff gave you a look— one you noticed but couldn’t exactly define. “So,” he began, “you and Eddie are… bonding.”
“I guess,” you shrugged. “We might as well try to get along since I don’t know how long it’ll be before one of us can afford to move out.”
“Right,” Jeff nodded. “I’m glad to see you two are close.”
“Close? Woah,” you laughed thinly, “that’s a stretch. You saw him just now— he makes fun of me all the time.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Don’t,” Gareth suddenly interjected.
“What?” Jeff turned to him defensively, but the drummer only shook his head and kept unscrewing the nut to detach his snare. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
“About what?” you pressed.
“Uh—” Jeff stalled, like he’d forgotten you were right there. “Nothing— don’t worry about it.”
“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” you frowned. “Did he say something to you guys? ‘Cause I thought that kid was joking when he said Eddie talks about me at Hellfire…”
“He was!” Gareth agreed. “Now can we talk about something else?”
“Dude,” Jeff frowned, “come on, she’s not an idiot.”
“Yeah, and she doesn’t like it when you talk about her like she’s not here,” you snapped.
“Sorry,” he apologized, looking at you again. “It’s just that Eddie has always—”
“He’s gonna kill you,” Gareth sing-songed quietly as he kept working.
“Zip it!” Jeff warned him. “You remember taking the club picture in 1983, right?”
“Yeah,” you nodded.
“Well, even before that, but especially after,” Jeff continued, “Eddie sort of had this… thing for—”
Eddie’s shriek suddenly getting louder was your only warning before he tackled the other guitarist to the ground. You gasped and stepped back, nearly falling off the edge of the stage, as they wrestled in front of your feet.
“Shut up!” Eddie warned him loudly as they struggled, and Jeff’s laughter made you feel more relieved that they weren’t really fighting, just… being guys.
“Ever since she took that picture you’ve been so—” Jeff started again, but Eddie’s hand covered his mouth.
“What did you tell her?!” Eddie interrogated, and Jeff growled as he fought for the upper hand, making Eddie laugh and push him back down.
You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Boys,” you mumbled to yourself, glancing at Gareth’s half-deconstructed drumset. You saw a tom left on the ground and picked it up, carrying it on your hip as you stepped out the back. It was much quieter there— dark and kinda of misty with a light rain, cicadas singing in the distant trees.
Gareth was standing by his car with the open hatchback, and smiled when he saw you. “Hey, thanks,” he nodded.
“Sure,” you smiled back, setting it in the trunk with the other drums already inside. “Can I ask what you and Jeff were talking about just now?”
Gareth sighed. “I think it’s better if you ask Eddie that question.”
“That won’t work,” you sighed, “he’ll just say something stupid like oh, wouldn’t you like to know, sweetheart? and then distract me by doing the most annoying thing he can think of at the moment.”
Gareth snorted. “Yeah, sounds like Eddie.”
“Do you know what his problem is with me?” you asked nervously. “Like, why he tries to drive me crazy so much?”
Gareth looked away from you. “Listen, all I know is he told us we weren’t allowed to ask you out.”
“Wait— what?!” you sputtered. You could think of a million questions to ask right then— Was one of you going to ask me out? Did he say that at Hellfire or band practice? Did he make this rule recently? Does he normally decide who you can and can’t ask out? — but in the time it took Gareth to walk across the asphalt to the back door of the bar, you only got out one: the simplest and most important one. “Why?”
Gareth turned back at you with a smile on his face, calling out so you could hear him across the parking lot. “‘Cause you’re his sister!” he answered before stepping in and disappearing.
You refused to acknowledge the way that answer disappointed you.
~
“I know it’s pretty casual but—” she began, looking a little shy as she stepped out from behind the curtain, but you cut her off with a sigh as you clutched your hands to your chest.
“Mom, it’s beautiful,” you informed her, and she smiled wider.
“Really?” she asked, turning to the three mirrors angled around her. It was short, for a wedding dress, and relatively simple except for the intricate beading around the neckline that followed to the straps over her shoulders. “I just didn’t want it to drag on the ground, since we’ll be outside.”
Yes, the backyard wedding idea had been finalized— the ceremony and reception would be right at home, which was pretty convenient but also a little intimidating. The budget available meant that almost every aspect had to be either DIY or some kind of shortcut: you got a deal on catering from Enzo’s because you worked your summer before junior year waitressing there and the owner still liked you; your mom didn’t want you to have to worry about being the photographer along with everything else you had to do, so your classmate Kate offered to do it as long as she got a free meal and could make copies for her portfolio; even the honeymoon was a bargain, an old buddy of Wayne’s had a cabin on Lake Michigan that he would let them stay in for the week after the wedding.
But, you convinced your mom to spend as much as she needed on her dress. A lot of things can be done affordably, and a lot of compromises can be made here and there, but if she didn’t feel beautiful on her day then it would all be a waste.
“I think it’ll look really nice,” you smiled, “especially with some jewelry— oh! Maybe a flower crown.”
“You don’t think I’m too old for that?” she worried.
“Mom, come on, you’re not old,” you dismissed.
“But will I look like I’m trying to look young?”
“You’ll look amazing!” you insisted.
“Well, if you say so,” she beamed, twirling her skirt for a moment— it was adorable, actually. “Oh! I almost forgot. I picked your dress out, too.”
“My… my dress?” you repeated.
“Yeah!” she announced as she faced you again. “Your flower girl dress! You should try it on!”
But when she brought it into the changing room for you, you literally thought she was joking for a second. When you realized she was serious, you could already see it— Eddie laughing hysterically at the sight of you, your face burning, having to spend the whole night in that abomination of a dress.
“Isn’t it cute?” she beamed. “It reminds me of the dresses you wore when you were little…”
“I’m… sure it does,” you agreed, swallowing down your hatred for the garment when you realized how much it meant to her. And yes, it looked just as bad— if not worse— on you as it did on the hanger. But it wasn’t about you; it was about how happy she looked when you stepped out in the bright pink, puffy, fluffy, lace-and-tulle-drowned mess she picked.
“And can you believe it’s only thirty dollars?” she announced happily as you stood in front of the triple mirrors.
I can’t believe they’re not paying me for the trouble of wearing it, you thought, but you only offered her a half-hearted smile in the reflection.
~
When you returned home from the bridal boutique, as your mom announced she would go hang your newly-purchased dresses in the closet, you heard a frantic shuffling coming from your room; instantly you barged in and found Eddie kneeling in front of scattered photographs, a shoebox overturned nearby that he was trying to scoop them back into— but he froze as you gasped.
“Damn it, Eddie!” you yelped.
“I swear, I was just looking for a flashlight,” he raised his hands defensively.
“Really? In the shoebox under my bed?” you snapped.
“Well— I was just looking under your bed for the flashlight. And then I found the shoebox…” he trailed off, and you groaned as you marched across the room and snatched the box away— but he still had the ones in his hands.
You knew already what he’d seen— there were all sorts of pictures in there, nearly six years’ worth of Polaroids with sentimental value, but the ones he was holding were of Jonathan. He was probably expecting (possibly hoping?) to find pictures of you naked— even though you’d told him already that you don’t take those— but instead he saw all the special moments you’d hidden away… which was almost as bad as seeing you naked.
“You said you and Jonathan weren’t that close,” he noticed. “When did you take all these, then?”
You got down on the floor in front of the spread of pictures and sighed. “Okay, we were close. And then…”
“Then?”
“Then he started dating Nancy Wheeler.”
Eddie paused for a second, then nodded. “Ah…” he sighed softly.
“And then he moved to fucking California.”
“Wow, Fucking California. Sounds way cooler than the regular California.”
“Seriously, Ed," you rolled your eyes. "And he said he would call, but he already didn’t call that much anymore before he left.”
You pulled the pictures out of his hands, stopping when you saw them. The first one was Jonathan eating a cone at Scoops Ahoy. He’d told you he wouldn’t be caught dead at the mall, but then you dragged him in to convince him to try their Peanut Butter Pecan flavor and soon he was just as much of an addict to it as you were. The other photo made you sigh. It was just Jonathan behind his camera, snapping a picture, but that was how you remembered him: behind the camera.
“This picture…” you trailed off. “He was supposed to keep the other one that he took, of me taking a picture of him. I don’t even know if he still has it. He probably threw it out when he left.”
“Aw, come on,” Eddie tilted his head, “don’t say that— he’d have to be heartless to do that.”
“Well…” you shrugged, looking down, and he let the moment linger for a second before he reached forward and took the photos out of your hands, tossing them back into the shoebox with the rest of them before slamming the lid.
“Wanna do something fun?” he encouraged randomly.
“Uh, no,” you frowned, giving him a look. “Not with you.”
“Let’s go to the movies,” he suggested anyway, “my treat. I thought that new movie Legend looked kinda cool.”
“I… really should be studying…” you trailed off.
“Nah, you’ll be fine,” he insisted, “you deserve to enjoy yourself for a night.”
“And I’m supposed to enjoy myself at the movies with you?” you realized, raising an eyebrow at him.
“How do you normally enjoy yourself?” he wondered. “Lemme guess: bubble bath, candles, and—”
“George Michael on the Walkman, yep,” you agreed, “I’m not even gonna try to deny it because I’m not ashamed.”
“And you shouldn’t be!” he beamed. “I’m just saying, maybe it would do you some good to get out of the house.”
“I was just out,” you reminded him.
“Yeah, with your mom,” he rolled his eyes, “that doesn’t count. How’d dress shopping go, by the way?”
“Oh, it was fine,” you sighed, “but you’re gonna laugh when you see me in my dress.”
“How bad is it?” he grinned.
“So bad, I look like a Peep,” you whined.
“Aw, I like Peeps,” he pouted, “so it sounds to me like you’ll look delicious.”
Weirdly enough, that was almost comforting. “So, Legend, what’s it about?”
He grinned. “You’ll see.”
~
He opened the van door for you, bowing and swinging his arm out dramatically. “What’s with the showmanship?” you scoffed as you hopped down and walked past him, letting him shut the door behind you and dash to catch up.
“Can’t a guy just believe in chivalry?” he announced proudly, following you across the parking lot to the glittering lights of the Cineplex.
“I guess,” you shrugged, walking beside him to the ticket booth. “If you get the tickets, I’ll get the snacks.”
“Now now, wouldn’t a true gentleman pay for everything?” he challenged, and you rolled your eyes.
“Wouldn’t a true gentleman wear unripped jeans?”
“Hm,” he frowned, “fair. And I’m also kinda broke, so, thanks for the snacks.”
“Don’t thank me yet, we’re gonna have to share a popcorn,” you laughed, “I’m broke too.”
As you approached the box office, Eddie smiled at the gum-chewing teenager behind the glass. “Two for Legend, please,” he requested as he slid a ten across the counter.
The kid, smacking their Hubba Bubba, glanced at him, then you, then him again, before sliding your tickets back to you.
You got a similar reaction from the guy behind the counter doling out snacks. He actually stuttered a little when he saw the two of you and asked, "C-can I get you anything?"
"A large popcorn, extra butter, two sodas aaaaand… Sour Patch Kids?" you turned to Eddie for approval of your order.
"As long as you save the yellow ones for me," Eddie agreed.
"Oh perfect, I don't like the yellow ones," you smiled as the employee set the massive popcorn bag in front of you.
"How can you not like the yellow ones?" Eddie scoffed.
"They're just too sour," you shrugged. "I like the ones that are sweet on the inside."
"I mean, I like those too," he admitted. "I like the blue ones, what flavor are those supposed to be?"
"I think they're blue raspberry," you replied, more focused on handling the sodas being handed to you, but Eddie took his and continued.
"You know, I never understood that. There aren't actually blue raspberries, are there?"
You sighed and followed Eddie, drinks and snacks in tow, to theater number four. "Not any that I'd wanna eat," you replied.
Eddie held the swinging door open for you, and you walked up the incline to the middle of the theater; he stood beside you, taking it in, looking up and down the rows of seats where some other people were finding their own places. “Okay, where do you usually sit?” he asked.
“Two-thirds back because—”
“That’s where the sound engineer sits when they’re mixing the audio!” he finished for you, beaming.
“Y-yeah,” you agreed, beginning to smile back.
“See,” Eddie clicked his tongue, “I knew you were cool.”
You scoffed as you climbed the stairs with him up to the right spot in the theater. "No you didn't," you denied, "you said you were hoping for someone cooler."
"Huh?"
"When we met at that restaurant, right after mom and Wayne got engaged? You said you wanted someone cooler than me."
Eddie smiled as he motioned for you to slide down the row of seats first. He didn't respond to what you'd said until he sat next to you; "Well," he sighed as he got comfortable, "I guess I was just trying to match your energy."
"Of relentless pessimism?" you grinned, and he smiled in agreement. "Yeah… don't do that. I like it better when you're annoyingly upbeat."
When the movie began, before anything had even happened, you noticed a couple sitting in front of you begin aggressively making out. You clammed up at the sight, nervous in the presence of PDA, but when Eddie noticed, too, he just grinned and elbowed you to point it out.
“Yeah, I saw,” you whispered to him under your breath.
“Check this out,” he returned, waiting for the right moment to feign a cough and then “accidentally” kick the back of the guy’s seat. The couple broke apart and glared at him, and when you got a better look at them, you recognized the girl: Sally… something. You never really knew her, but she was in your class. Sally… Carter? Cartwright? Something like that.
“Hey man, can you watch it?” the boyfriend grimaced.
“Shh, the movie’s starting,” Eddie held his finger to his lips, and the young couple rolled their eyes and turned away again.
“Ten bucks says his hand’s up her shirt before the end of the first act,” you leaned in to whisper to Eddie, and he snorted softly.
“First act? Try first five minutes,” he replied.
Let’s just hope she doesn’t still stuff her bra…
As the movie continued, you both were too focused on it to notice what Sally and her date were up to. Though you weren’t sure what you were expecting, it was surprisingly dark— creepy, and unsettling, in that sort of… titillating way that movies like this could be.
Not that it was sexy! Sure, the part where Darkness tried to seduce the princess was interesting, but it wasn’t like that. It just put you on edge, and so did sitting next to Eddie.
You glanced at him every time your fingers brushed against his in the popcorn bowl, but he never reacted— his eyes were glued to the screen, reflecting back every frame that he was absorbing so thoroughly. You almost had more fun watching him watch it than actually watching it.
Another thing you hadn’t expected was to be scared by the movie; you usually weren’t that affected by scary movie moments, but unexpected violence had you whimpering quietly as you hid your face behind your hand. You looked down and inward, giving you a decent view of Eddie’s lap with his spread jean-clad legs and his chain hanging down between the chairs, and you almost gasped when you felt his arm wrap around you and pull you in.
“I’ll tell you when the scary part’s over,” he whispered under his breath, and you nodded as your forehead rested on his shoulder.
When you breathed in, you could smell him so strongly— in a good way, for once. He must’ve sprayed some cheap cologne on before the two of you left the house, but it was nice; you closed your eyes as you took another breath, feeling like his body heat could just melt you, feeling the way his hand held onto your shoulder tightly, feeling his soft t-shirt on your face…
“Okay,” he whispered, and you dropped your hand from your eyes, turning your head to look at the screen again.
For a second, you both lingered, and you wondered what would happen if you just rested your head on his shoulder and stayed there, and he kept his arm around you, and you snuggled up in the dark. It would be so terrible, for one, because… because! Just today you were watching your mom try on her dress for the wedding, and now you were thinking about making a move on the guy you were supposed to be related to soon?
You grimaced at your own horrific thoughts and sat up again, leaning back in your chair.
“Thanks,” you whispered to Eddie in appreciation of his… protection? Whatever it was, you appreciated it.
~
As you walked out of the theater, tossing the last of the popcorn into the bin along with your empty drinks and box of Sour Patch Kids, Eddie couldn’t contain himself.
“That was so sick!” Eddie announced excitedly, jumping up and down a couple times. “Oh my god, it was just like a D&D campaign! Oh, hold on, I need to make a campaign based on this movie, like, yesterday.”
“Really? That’s what D&D is like?” you pressed.
“You wanna play now, don’t you?” he noticed.
“Wha— no!” you denied sheepishly. “Do girls even play that?”
“Yeah, totally!” he beamed. “I mean… not a lot, but Sinclair’s sister plays.”
“Oh,” you laughed, “so literally girls play it. But do women?”
He snorted. “Yeah, I mean… I assume. I just haven’t met any. It’s a small town, y’know.”
“Right,” you agreed.
Eddie stiffened up suddenly as you turned out of the hallway into the lobby, glancing down. “Speaking of small town…” he trailed off.
“Huh?” you asked, but you were interrupted by a guy in a letter jacket walking up to the two of you.
“No way,” the stranger smirked, crossing his arms, “is this… the freak on a date?”
“It’s not a date,” you corrected, “we’re just—”
You realized mid-way through that you didn’t know the end of that sentence: friends? siblings? mortal enemies?
“It’s not a date,” you repeated again in lieu of finishing your thought.
“Well, that’s a relief,” the jock sighed. “Would hate to see what happens to any girl that dares to go out with someone like you.”
Eddie just shook his head, but amazingly didn’t say anything— and you leaned in and narrowed your eyes as you examined the stranger’s face and realized he wasn’t much of a stranger after all.
“Oh shit, you’re not— Carver? Jason Carver?” you realized. “Gosh, you grew up.”
He looked way too proud of himself, as if he had any control over his own aging. “Yeah, I did,” he beamed.
“You used to be the most pretentious little pipsqueak of all the sophomores,” you recalled with a laugh, making Jason’s smile falter. “And look at you now… you’re not even smart enough to be called ‘pretentious’.”
He scoffed defensively. “Whatever…”
“Let’s go,” you mumbled to Eddie, who took a step with you towards the door, but Jason stopped you with a hand on your arm that you shrugged off instantly.
“How’s your boyfriend doing, by the way? Gary Thompson?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. You knew he knew— he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t— and considering his… connection to Gary's affairs, it was easy for him to know.
“Well, last I heard he was cheating on me with a parade of other girls, including your unstoppable slut of an older sister,” you shot back, “but it’s been a while so it’s hard to say.”
“Hey!” Jason barked, stepping up to you. “Leave my sister out of it.”
“Right back at you,” Eddie sneered.
That seemed to stun Jason long enough for you to grab Eddie’s wrist and drag him out of the theater— he yanked away when you were in the parking lot, rubbing where you’d held as if you hurt him.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he offered to break the silence. “And I’m sorry he said that shit to you— it wouldn’t have happened if I wasn't with you…”
You didn’t say anything, so he trailed off. As you got in the van again, plunged into that specific silence that only exists inside a car where two people aren’t talking, you gnawed your lip.
“He normally doesn’t get to me like that,” Eddie continued with a sigh as he started the engine, shaking his head, “it’s just ‘cause he did that in front of you.”
“You called me your sister…" you noticed quietly.
"Yeah," he smiled. "I like doing that. It feels right."
And you knew that this wasn't a date, but hearing Eddie say that made you remember why it couldn't be a date— which made you feel guilty, and gross, for almost wishing that it was.
You started to get so angry, mostly with yourself, and when you got angry you started to cry. You tried to turn away, to stare out the window so he wouldn’t see, but he did. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you whispered, knowing your voice would break if you spoke any louder.
“C’mon, you can tell me,” he promised, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder— but you shrugged it off.
“We’re not family,” you reminded him. “Not really. You’re not my brother. Stop acting like it.”
There was a long silence, maybe the longest you’d ever been silent with Eddie; or, more accurately, the longest he’d been silent with you. You wanted to look over your shoulder and see what he was doing— other than driving— see if you could read the look on his face. But then you’d be giving in first, you’d be admitting defeat.
So you just stared out the window at the town rolling by as Eddie drove.
~
Inspired by what Eddie said the day before, even if the two of you hadn’t spoken much since then, you gave Jonathan a call after you got home from work while the house was still empty. You weren’t actually expecting him to pick up— you figured it would be his mom, if anything, and that she’d tell you he was out but that he would call you back, and then he wouldn’t.
So you were surprised to hear his voice on the other end when the ringing stopped: “Hello?”
“Jonathan!” you said, suddenly realizing you sounded much too excited. “Um, hey…”
“Hey,” he replied, “it’s been a while— too long.”
“Yeah,” you agreed.
“I’m… sorry for being quiet,” he choked.
“No, I can hear you fine,” you promised, leaning against the wall— since it was the phone in the kitchen that you were using.
“I mean, like, I didn’t call as much as I said I would,” he clarified, and you nodded with a silent ‘oh’. “And I was gonna write, but… it’s been busy.”
“I’m sure,” you offered. “It’s been busy here too! So much has happened… I’ve been waiting to tell you.”
“Go ahead,” he prompted, and you smiled— but then you looked down.
“Actually, I meant to ask you something.”
“Uh huh?”
“Do you remember when you first got the Pentax and I got my second Land camera— after the first one got thrown in the lake— and we took pictures of each other?”
“Well, we were always taking pictures,” he recalled.
“Yeah, but— the one where we’re literally taking pictures of each other at the same time.”
“Oh! Yeah, of course.”
You fiddled with the curly phone cord nervously. “Do you still… have the one you took of me?”
“What? Yeah, it’s in my album,” he answered quickly. “Why?”
You tensed up. Now you felt bad for thinking he threw it out— and you didn’t want to tell him the real reason that you asked about it, and give away your insecurity. It might come across as guilt-tripping anyways.
“Do you want a copy?” he asked. “I still have the negative.”
“Yes!” you said excitedly as he supplied a perfect excuse for you. “Yeah, we’re doing this, like, self-portrait assignment in one of my classes, I thought it might be good inspiration.”
“Yeah, I’ll mail you one,” he offered.
“Thanks,” you sighed, “that’ll be great.”
“So… h-how have things been with you?” he asked after a pause.
You weren’t sure where to start. “Uh, well, there’s this guy—”
“Oh?” Jonathan interrupted, before you could add that key step-brother detail, and you rolled your eyes.
“Not like that— he can’t stand me. I can’t stand him!”
“Uh huh…”
“Seriously, he’s— ugh. You don’t get it. He’s literally making it his life’s mission to irritate me. He has no respect for my space, o-or my sanity.”
“Sounds difficult.”
“Jonathan, he’s an actual living nightmare,” you assured.
Just then, you heard the front door slam, and the loud voice of Eddie, because of course. You were about to ask him to quiet down while you were on the phone (even though it wouldn’t work), but then you realized Wayne was with him— and you heard what they were saying.
“How did he even find our new address?” Eddie groaned.
“Well, I gave it to him,” Wayne admitted, and you heard Eddie scoff. “I thought maybe you’d wanna answer him this time… a lot has changed, he’d probably like to hear about it.”
“You can tell him,” Eddie suggested sharply, “you’re the one that’s getting married, getting a stepdaughter— why don’t you just tell him yourself?”
“Well, Edward, I think he’d rather hear from you.”
“I’m sure he would!” Eddie spat. “What about me, huh, what do you think I want? Y’think maybe I want a dad who isn’t a criminal— and an asshole?!”
“Shit,” you hissed into the phone, “I’ve gotta go.”
“O-okay,” Jonathan stuttered.
“We’ll talk another time, okay?”
You set the phone on the hook and tried to stay quiet and still, not wanting to interrupt Wayne and Eddie… but also not wanting them to know you were listening.
“I know how you feel about him,” Wayne said flatly, “I know you’re still angry—”
“Aren’t you? He’s the one who got you stuck with me.”
“Hey now,” Wayne warned, his voice somehow both soft and stern. “You don’t have to write him back. But would you consider reading what he said to you?”
Eddie scoffed. “What did he say?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t read it.”
“Well, read it and tell me what it says.”
“No,” Wayne snapped, “he wrote it to you. You can read it yourself.”
There was a pause, and you heard paper crumpling— no doubt Eddie snatched the letter out of Wayne’s hand. A few footsteps later and you heard your bedroom door slamming.
Wayne stopped when he saw you in the kitchen, setting down the rest of the mail on the table. “Oh,” he said, “didn’t know you were in here.”
“Yeah,” you breathed, “um, I was just using the phone.”
He nodded.
“I’m gonna, uh… take a walk, I think,” you decided.
“Okay,” he agreed.
You rushed out the front door and crossed your arms as you strolled on the pavement; you figured it wasn’t worth trying to get into your room right now…
You killed some time, kicked a rock for a few strides, pet the dog in the yard two blocks down, and came back when you figured enough time had passed. Eddie was gone— Wayne said he went for a smoke, but you didn’t bother to ask what he was smoking: considering the circumstances, you could guess.
When you went back into your room, it was totally trashed; Eddie must have changed clothes when he got home, because he’d left his dirty shirt and jeans strewn out in the middle of the floor. His guitar was also laying on the floor with the cord dropped carelessly in a pile, his backpack was opened and there were books and folders coming out of it, some left opened on the desk, others just dropped on the floor as well.
Sighing, you dropped down to try to start cleaning up— this was a bi-weekly task now at least, picking up after Eddie if you had any hope of keeping your room in decent shape.
Eventually, you got the room mostly in order by kicking his dirty clothes aside and reorganizing his backpack, and your last step was the desk. There were papers in the wastebasket beside it, and the one on top was torn in half. Maybe you were naive, but you really assumed it was just a homework assignment or something, and you wondered how cruel it would have to be to merit that treatment. However, when your curiosity got the better of you and you grabbed the two halves to uncrumple and hold together, you froze. It was so clearly not your business, but you found yourself reading it before you could stop yourself.
Hey there Edward,
How are things with you? I still read the last letter you sent me all the time, but I wish I had a new one. Wayne doesn’t tell me much. Last I heard, you were moving into a new place with him and some woman. She’s got a daughter, right? Are you friends?
I don’t blame you for being angry with me, but I hope you write back anyway. No matter what, you’re always my boy.
Dad
Setting down the two halves, you furrowed your brows and reached in after the other papers. Your conscience was screaming at you not to do it, but you’d been feeling like a pretty bad person lately anyways. The first ball of paper unfurled in your hands, but there wasn’t much to see.
Hi Dad,
You can just call me Eddie
It stopped there, scribbled out and crumpled up. You reached in and unfolded the next one carefully, since it was already partially torn.
Dad—
Stop writing, please, it’s pretty sad
The next one wasn’t squished into a ball, just folded in half, and you unfolded it with a shaky breath.
Pops — yeah, we’re moving in with Wayne’s girlfriend, and she’s got a daughter, but I don’t know if we’re really friends. We weren’t before, but it’s getting better. Remember how I always wanted a brother? Well, I still do. This sister thing is kind of annoying.
Things are okay with me, and I’m actually going to graduate this year— really. I heard from my hardest teacher, Ms. O’Donnell, that I did well on the midterm paper, so as long as I can actually eek out a 30% or higher on the final exam, I’m golden.
But that’s not why I’m writing to you now. I’m only reaching out because I wanted to ask you about my mom. I didn’t see you two together very often, but you usually argued when I did. I was just wondering if you ever really loved her? Please answer honestly. It’s okay if you didn’t, accidents happen. But I guess I’m hoping you’ll say that there was something real between you two before you left and before she died. Did you ever think about getting married?
I guess I’m thinking about it because
The letter stopped again, right when it was getting good; you sighed, guilt for your snooping making your stomach sink, and shoved the papers back into the trash can. You hoped that he eventually finished one to send… not because of the whole ‘he’s your dad, you have to talk to him’ thing because that’s crap, although you could appreciate it as someone who would give anything for a chance to write to your own dad again. Really, you just thought Eddie should write back because he clearly had some unfinished business with him.
But, you knew it was also not even close to any of your business; sighing and shaking your head, you picked up the bin and carried it to the kitchen to dump into the big trash can. The discarded letters bounced down, but the small papers at the very bottom of the wastebasket fell in last, so light that they fluttered down like leaves on a tree before they rested on top of the rest of the trash. You sighed at the sight of two ticket stubs for Legend at the Cineplex.
You walked back to your room with the empty bin and, in a masterful show of restraint, waited about thirty seconds before running back into the kitchen and grabbing the two stubs out of the trash and shoving them in your pocket.
I was about to BEG for a part 2 to encore and then I read the angst ending 💀 pleas do a part 2 bcuz Eddie could have matured and become a sex savant and rockstar reader is like 👀👀👀 SO ITS LIKE THAAAAAT
For real???!!! Because I've been thinking about this Eddie ALLL DAAAAAYYY!!! Like distracting me from important things all day. I would die for this Eddie. Why??? Why is he like this?!
A/N: I did try to make this longer, but it ended up being more of a blurb. I was really busy this week, but I should be back to posting these requests more regularly next week. This was requested by @melodramama and I hope you all like it!!
NSFW 18+ ONLY
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Billy would never grow tired of this; having Y/N beneath him with glazed over eyes, mouth parted in an attempt to catch her breath, hair an absolute mess and skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she tried to find purchase to ground herself in the pleasure he was still ringing from her.
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - eddie tags along for a day in the life of a real adult: college, then work. and later, he lets you tag along for a night in the life of a starving artist.
𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 5.8k
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - sexual conversation/talking about sex acts, more deceased parent discussions, vague description/mention of nude pictures, drug use mentions, really just fluff
Things were different after that— quieter. Part of you couldn’t help but imagine it was the calm before the storm; mostly, you hoped it was the beginning of a new phase in your relationship with Eddie. That phase being tolerance, maybe even a hint of friendliness.
You decided not to bring up what happened in Eddie’s van on the way home from school that day… because nothing actually happened. How do you talk about something that didn’t even happen, anyways? You could talk about what almost happened, if you actually were sure what that was. It felt like, for a second, you were about to kiss— but every time you thought about it again, you convinced yourself that you were just misreading things. Because he would never— and you would never—
You heard the door shut and straightened up, as if you were about to get caught, but on the outside all you were doing was eating your cereal.
“Morning,” Eddie greeted as he sauntered into the kitchen, shirtless and rubbing his eyes with his fist. With a mouthful of Grape-Nuts, all you could offer was a quick nod in his direction.
It was dark for how late it was in the morning, since it was overcast outside, and the whole kitchen was a bit gray as a result. Eddie stood out in some way, seeming to be more colorful and lively than everything else— but then again, he was the only living thing you were looking at, except for technically the daisies on the counter in the white ceramic vase. Wayne had started bringing your mom flowers as often as he could get away with, and she kept them in the kitchen. See how they just brighten everything up? she’d beam as she finished arranging them for display on the bar. And you loved the way she smiled at them and tilted her head while she fluffed the petals up again.
Eddie was like that— he brightened up everything. Even if he drove you up the wall sometimes, you could at least appreciate that.
He stood in the middle of the floor for a second, glancing around.
“Where’s your mom?” he wondered.
“She had an errand to run,” you recalled, “something with… taxes… or something…”
He snorted. “Grown-up stuff,” he shrugged.
“Yep,” you agreed.
“What are you eating?” he asked. You had to swallow another bite to answer.
“Grape-Nuts,” you replied, and he grimaced.
“You can eat that stuff?” He shuddered when you nodded. “You’re tougher than me. I need my Lucky Charms— gives me my luck and my charm.”
You smirked a little and looked down at your bowl, stirring what was left around with the tip of your spoon. You looked at him again when he reached up to the top shelf of the pantry to get the box of cereal— and as he did, you could finally make out the name on his ribs: Barbara. "Who is she?" you blurted out.
"Huh?"
You pointed to his ribcage, and he looked down as if he forgot he had the tattoo there.
"Oh— that's my mom. Barbara Rose Broussard."
You felt guilty for almost being jealous before, having assumed it was a former lover or something. "That's a nice way to remember her."
"I've got this for her, too," he explained as he extended his left arm out to you, showing you the long-stemmed rose inked into the skin there, extending from the inside of his elbow to about halfway down his forearm. The pointed end of the stem reminded you of a needle; it was nestled right over the vein, too, and you wondered if that was intentional.
"I wish I had your pain tolerance," you smiled. "Then again, I think the best thing I could do to honor my dad is not get any tattoos. Or piercings. Or boyfriends. Ever."
Eddie snorted, grabbing the cereal and sitting down with the box at the table. "He was strict, huh?"
"Sort of."
"No wonder you're such a goody two-shoes," he smirked, shoving his hand straight in and shoveling the chex and marshmallows into his mouth by the fistful. "Still daddy's little girl, huh?"
“Aren’t you gonna use a bowl? And a spoon?” you sneered. “And milk?”
“Answer my question first,” he insisted.
You chewed your lip for a second. "I guess so."
He kept smiling at you. "I don’t like milk. And I’m using nature’s spoons.”
“Nature’s unwashed, disease-ridden spoons,” you mumbled, sighing.
“Hey, they’re washed,” he defended just as he shoved his forearm back into the box, the motion accompanied by the loud crinkling of plastic and the rustling of the cereal. “Think I’m walkin’ around with dirty hands?”
“Probably,” you raised an eyebrow.
“Nope,” he denied. “Just a dirty mind.”
He winked at you just before he tossed back another handful of cereal, and you cleared your throat as you looked down at your own bowl, now empty. "U-um, so, there's no school today, right?"
"Not for me," he smiled, "but you've got classes, right?"
"Just one," you corrected, "and then work."
"Take me with you, please? I'm gonna be so fucking bored today."
“Bored?” you repeated incredulously. “Figured you’d be planning your campaign or jamming with the band.”
“Jeff, robotics camp, remember?” he prompted.
“Right,” you nodded. “I mean, I guess it would be kinda fucked up to make you drive me but then not let you come…”
He perked up.
“So I’ll take the bus,” you finished.
“Pleeeeeaase?” he whined. “I mean, don’t you think I could use the education?”
It wasn’t a bad argument, actually; you glanced to the side. “Well, my class is having a field day,” you remembered, chewing your lip as you considered it.
“They have field day in college?” he asked excitedly.
“No, like, my photography class is going in the field to take pictures,” you explained.
“Which field?”
“Not a literal field, Eddie,” you sighed, “we’re just going outside.”
It was exactly one hour later that he made you eat those words while you held your camera and watched your fellow classmates step through the tall grass in search of their perfect shot.
“I dunno, this looks like a field to me,” he noticed as he raised his arms, gesturing to the wide open clearing that Professor Hill had brought you all to.
“I didn’t think he’d actually make us photograph somewhere like this,” you defended, speaking quietly in case the professor heard you questioning his methods.
It was hot out— those ruthless Indiana summers were just around the corner— and you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand as you searched for something worthy of your camera’s attention. In a landscape as empty as this, there wasn’t much to focus on… and whatever there was had already been snatched up by your classmates, and you were still hoping to come up with something original to shoot.
Eddie said he would help you look, too, but he had no idea what to look for. In a couple minutes he seemed to be in his own daydream anyways, smiling to himself, swinging his legs a bit as he walked. And then he was going in a big circle, trying to step in the exact same shoe print he’d left the last time around, making psh, psh sounds every time he placed his foot on the grass. You rolled your eyes and ignored him, finding a torn leaf on the ground and reluctantly squaring up your camera to shoot it— no, it was hardly worth the film it would waste, but it was something.
You both turned when you heard someone coming up towards you, seeing your professor approaching Eddie; you stood up straight.
“You must be Edward,” Professor Hill smiled, extending a hand towards Eddie, who shook it eagerly.
“I knew it, she talks about me all the time,” Eddie joked with a grin.
“You were an excellent subject for her photograph series— such an expressive face!”
Eddie froze when the professor suddenly grabbed his face, leaning in closely and staring at him.
“These eyes!” he exclaimed. "Like a turbulent storm on the sea at golden hour! It's like I can see your troubled past, your hopes and dreams, just by looking into them!"
Eddie smiled nervously as he glanced at you. "Is he always like this?"
You laughed and shrugged. Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as the professor let him go and stepped back. “A talented young photographer and a natural muse! What a perfect couple you make,” Professor Hill smiled coyly.
You and Eddie simultaneously began awkwardly laughing and stammering through several replies.
"Oh— we're not—" Eddie started.
"No, nonono," you choked.
"It's not like that," Eddie assured.
"Technically we're related!" you continued.
"Except not actually," he jumped in.
"But we aren't—" you continued.
"I mean, her?" Eddie scoffed. "Never."
"He's— he's a freak!" you rushed.
You couldn't be sure how much of that Professor Hill had actually understood, considering you'd said it all at once, but he raised his hands up in relent. "Okay, okay! You're not a couple! Got it."
As the professor turned on his heel and walked away to check on other students, you chewed your lip and Eddie played mindlessly with his hair.
"Let's, uh, find something to take some pictures of," you suggested, and Eddie nodded.
You both trudged through the grass as you looked for inspiration— all the grass and trees seemed the same, you weren't sure where to start. It was probably some weird challenge that Professor Hill had come up with, to find inspiration in as bland a place as this.
"Heeeeeyyy, check this out," Eddie announced after a few minutes of searching with a grin, "these grasshoppers are totally doing it!"
You glanced where he was pointing in the grass to see two bright green insects on a stalk of grass together, joined at the end, and you grimaced. "Real mature," you sighed.
"You should take a picture of this," he suggested.
"Yeah, I think I can do a little better than bug fucking."
George appeared suddenly, leaning in to speak softly to the two of you. "You know, the female will eat the male after they're done mating."
"Thanks for the tidbit, George," Eddie offered sarcastically, shuddering as the other man disappeared to get back to his own photography.
"That's funny," you smirked, "'cause in the human world, the female is lucky if the male eats her at all."
Eddie cleared his throat, and when you looked at him, he was looking a little flushed. Maybe it was just the heat? Sweat was making his hair stick to his forehead, after all— but maybe you finally got to him. You smiled proudly to yourself at the thought.
“Niiice,” Eddie crooned with a nod when he saw you in your work uniform for the first time. It was just a red vest with a nametag, but it still managed to be the most unflattering thing any person could wear, and you crossed your arms self-consciously as you frowned.
“I don’t even know why they make me wear this thing, I’m almost never at the counter.”
“Where are you usually?” he asked.
“The darkroom,” you explained, “but today I’m covering the register for a half hour until Kevin gets here.”
“Kevin, your coworker?”
“No, Kevin the President of Zimbabwe— yes, he’s my coworker,” you sighed, unlocking the register and opening the tray, counting the money before you officially clocked in.
Of course, you weren’t exactly supposed to have friends (or step-family) loitering around the counter with you when you were working— and the darkroom was strictly employees only. But you let him do both, because it was a slow day and it turns out people are willing to pay to have their pictures developed whether or not some weird kid is sitting on the back counter, swinging his feet and eating candy he took from the shelves and didn’t pay for.
The first customer wanted a whole roll of film in eight-by-tens— her son’s birthday party; the second was a professional turning in wedding photos. Then there was a half hour of nothing, and you read your book while Eddie threw Red Hots in the air to try to catch them in his mouth.
You glanced up from your book, watching him open his mouth wide and lean to the side only for the candy to hit his cheek and land on the dark green carpet. “You look ridiculous,” you mumbled to him as you shook your head.
“You want one?” he offered, holding his hand up like he was about to throw it at you— you ducked instinctively even though he never let go of it.
“No,” you frowned, making him shrug and toss the candy up for himself (and he caught it that time). “Didn’t you want to come with me so you wouldn’t be bored at home?”
“Yeah,” he answered flatly as he chewed on the candy— his teeth were starting to turn red.
“How’s that working out for you?” you asked sarcastically, but his answer was totally genuine.
“Great!” he beamed.
“How?!” you yelped. “We’re not even doing anything.”
He shrugged again. “We don’t have to.”
You didn’t quite know what he meant by that, but thankfully your time at the counter ended just ten minutes later, after one more customer came in to pick up their prints that had been developed yesterday. That was when you got to properly break the rules and show Eddie the darkroom.
“Woah,” he noticed as he walked in behind you. “Kinda spooky in here.”
“You get used to it,” you assured.
“I know this is a stupid thing to say but, uh,” he said as he looked around, “it’s really dark.”
“Yeah, it’s stupid,” you agreed, “but I get what you mean.”
You were already setting up the chemical bins while he was still exploring, though there really wasn’t much to see. There wasn't anywhere to go either, the small room was really meant for just one person at a time. It wasn’t awkwardly cramped, except when Eddie wanted to see what you were working on and had to squeeze between the two tables of bins— forcing him to press up to your back to fit. “So, what’s all this?” he asked quietly.
“Well, this is the developer,” you explained as you motioned to one bin filled with semi-clear liquid, pointing at each one as you went, “that’s the soft bath, aaaaand that’s fixer.”
“Cool, cool,” he nodded thoughtfully. “And, what does that mean?”
You snorted. “You put the blank picture in the developer, and that makes it start, well, developing. You put it in the stop bath to make it stop so it doesn’t over develop. And the fixer sort of, like, seals it so it won’t be affected by light anymore— once it dries, that is.”
“Okay, that actually makes some sense,” Eddie agreed.
“So, we’re gonna pop open all these canisters and load the film onto the reel,” you explained.
“Then what?”
“Then,” you continued, sighing slightly as you exerted some force on the plastic containers to get the film out, “that goes in that tank.”
Eddie looked at where you were motioning with your head.
“And after that, well, you’ll see,” you decided, tiring of the explanations.
He leaned in over you to get a closer look at the strip of negatives as you unraveled it. You turned and stared at his profile for a second; by the dark red light, Eddie looked different— it seemed to show off the angle of his jaw more, but you couldn’t see the color of his eyes like usual.
“It’s kinda crazy,” he noticed, “you get to have a glimpse into these people’s lives, you get to make their moments last forever.”
“Taking the picture makes it last forever,” you corrected. “I’m just the one that makes it look decent.”
You couldn’t see details while the negatives were this small, but when you leaned in close, you could get the gist— a kid in a bathing suit with floaties on their arms, a dog running through the sprinklers.
It all looked pretty typical, so you loaded it onto the reel and opened the next canister.
“What kind of weird stuff do you see come through here?” he wondered.
“I mean, mostly it’s just—”
"Somebody's mom's homemade Playboy shots?" he assumed with a laugh.
You sighed. "You joke, but that's a lot of my job."
"Nice," he grinned.
"Not at all," you rolled your eyes. "If people wanna take dirty pictures, can't they have the decency to do it on instant film?"
"Hey, you've got a Land camera," he remembered with a grin, "you ever taken any little naughties on that?"
"Of course not," you scoffed. "Do I seem like someone who would do that?"
"No, that's why it would be hotter if you did," he explained. "It's never the ones you expect, anyway."
"How would you know?" you challenged. "Nobody's ever given you one, have they?"
"Well, no…"
As he trailed off, you smiled and held up a strip of film, dangling it in the air. "I think we've got a live one here, if you wanna take a peek," you offered.
He should've known not to fall for that. "Oh god!” he grimaced as soon as he leaned in to look at the negatives. “So much hair!"
"This guy is relentless," you laughed. "I can't tell if someone else is taking them for him or if he sets up a timer or what, but he has a roll of film developed almost monthly— and they’re all like this.”
“So he comes here and makes some innocent college kid develop his full frontal shots?” Eddie realized. “That’s messed up. Get your ya-ya’s however you want, but don't inflict it on the poor employees of the Rite Aid photo counter…"
“Oh look! He’s doing lunges in this one,” you tried to move the negative closer to his face, but Eddie tilted his chin up and looked at the ceiling.
“I’m already scarred for life, thanks.”
“Just wait til the ones where he bends over and—”
“AAAHH,” Eddie yelled and plugged his ears with his fingers.
“Okay, okay! I’m loading it on the reel, you’re safe,” you promised, and he calmed down. “I didn’t know you were so squeamish.”
“Listen, there are worse things to look at than a naked dude,” Eddie decided, crossing his arms, “but I guess I forgot that it’s not only good-looking people who take pictures of themselves in the buff.”
“It… very rarely is,” you promised. “I guess if you’re someone people want to see naked, you don’t need to do DIY nudie shoots. You can have them done by the professionals.”
“Well, if you ever feel like switching careers, that probably pays better than this,” Eddie offered, and you chuckled awkwardly.
“I’ll stay on this side of the camera, thanks,” you decided, “and I don’t think there would be much of an audience for that.”
“C’mon, would you quit saying stuff like that?” he groaned. “I don’t know if chicks think pretending not to know they’re hot is attractive or something—”
“Eddie, I’m not pretending,” you insisted, “I’m not— I don’t look like that.”
“Like a porn star? No, you don’t,” he laughed, “that doesn’t mean you’re not hot.”
“Isn’t that what every guy really wants, though?” you shrugged.
“I mean, I would be remiss to speak for every guy… but I think most guys just want a normal girl— you know, pretty, but real,” he explained. “The perfect girl doesn’t look like a porn star… she just acts like one.”
You snorted; “So, she fucks the pizza boy?”
“So you have seen porn!”
“What?! I—” you stammered. “I’ve just heard about it.”
“Uh huh, sure,” he replied disbelievingly. “You never rented a dirty movie?”
“Not even once,” you shook your head.
“Never even saw one somebody else rented?”
“Why are we talking about this?”
“I knew it!” he clapped his hand, making you jump. “You’re not that innocent.”
“I never said I was innocent,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling more aware of Eddie standing just behind you.
“Did you watch it at a sleepover or something?” he interrogated.
“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes, “me and my five hottest friends all got together and watched it in our skimpy little PJ’s, then we had a pillow fight and the losing team had to make out with each other as punishment.”
“My brain knows you’re being sarcastic,” he sighed, “but my heart wants to believe you so much.”
You just laughed and loaded up another reel for the tank.
“And my dick already believes you.”
“Ew! Eddie, I don’t wanna know anything about your dick,” you lied.
“So, what’s the real story?” he wondered. “Gary talked you into watching it, didn’t he?”
You nodded, more focused on the work you were trying to get done.
“Babysitter and pizza delivery boy?” he continued.
“Actually, she was just a regular college student,” you remembered.
“But she ordered it with extra sausage?”
“Yup.”
“And the pizza wasn’t the only thing that didn’t get eaten?” he assumed.
“No, she—”
“Not her,” he corrected, voice lowering slightly, “you.”
“That’s none of your business,” you snapped.
“You were talking about it before! With the grasshoppers!”
“Yeah, well, that’s only ‘cause George set me up,” you explained, “I don’t normally go advertising that kind of stuff.”
“I’m just saying, if Gary Thompson wasn’t absolutely horrible in bed, I’ll eat my shoe,” he announced.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Well, for one, he just has that look about him,” he listed, “and second off, you’re too uptight for me to believe somebody was givin’ it to you right.”
You sharply shot your elbow back into his gut, making him groan and keel over partially.
“Okay, okay, outta line,” he choked out an apology.
“Gary wasn’t bad,” you answered. “No, it wasn’t like the romance novels— I don’t think it’s ever like that, anyways— there weren’t, like, fireworks or anything… but he wasn’t bad. And you should go.”
“Aw, come on—” he began to protest.
“You can drive yourself home, and I’ll get a ride with Kevin.”
“Wait, please,” he whined, “I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have asked you personal stuff. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you!” you said in that tone that made it impossible to believe. “You’re not supposed to be in here, it’s employees only— just leave now while the reels are in the tank and it’s still okay to open the door and let the light in—”
“I’m sorry,” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder, which made you freeze. “Don’t make me leave, please? We were having fun…”
“No, you were having fun,” you corrected, shutting the film tank a little more forcefully than you needed, “by pissing me off on purpose.”
“Okay, what’s your idea of having fun with me?” he asked.
You cleared your throat, because you didn’t like your first instinct when he asked that question. “I dunno,” you stalled, “me slapping you around for a while?”
“Mm, I can get into that,” he agreed lowly.
“See? You’re doing it again. I can’t even say anything around you ‘cause you make it weird.”
“It’s only ‘cause you set me up,” he returned, making you shiver slightly as he turned his face to speak into your ear— he was so close, you could almost feel his lips against your skin when he whispered: “I wish you wouldn’t pretend that you hate me.”
Though it took more bravery than you thought you had, you turned to look at him, too— and you’d never seen him this up close before. “I wish you wouldn’t pretend that it’s not obvious how I feel about you,” you challenged with a venomous smile.
But he just smiled back at you— much sweeter than your own. “Oh, it’s obvious,” he agreed.
Swallowing, you turned back to your work and he stood up straight again. You knew he wouldn’t leave unless you made him, and honestly, you just didn’t feel like it. You kept working, and he kept standing there.
“What… what do you do now?” he asked hesitantly after a couple minutes of silence, like he was afraid you’d kick him out if you remembered he was standing here.
“I put it in the developer, like I said,” you sighed; he was lucky that opening the door now would ruin the photos.
You let him stay, and thankfully he was much less irritating after that, simply watching you do your job and asking the occasional questions. He was even impressed when you hung the photos up to try and he could start to see the image coming through. “Wow, it just… shows up?”
You nodded.
“That’s cool.”
It might seem small, but someone giving half a fuck about your interest felt really nice. Most people could appreciate a decent photo, but nobody ever cared about the work that went into it, least of all working in a darkroom which you’d been told many times was terminally geeky.
Guess it takes someone with interests as uncool as metal and D&D to show some respect for photography.
“Thanks,” you said quietly.
The next day, when you came home from class (you’d gotten a ride from Pete, which you decided not to mention to Eddie), you heard the music coming from your room before you even shut the front door.
“All your life you had to stand in line, still you're standing on your feet,” you heard Eddie singing, not entirely on key as his acoustic guitar provided the chords. He started the line over, and hit the note this time: “All your life you had to stand in line, still you’re standing on your feet, all your choices made you change your mind…”
You tried to quietly shut the door so he wouldn’t hear you, and therefore wouldn’t stop, before delicately creeping up to the half-open door.
“Don't wait for answers, just take your chances, don't ask me why…”
There was a brief guitar interlude, a pretty good adaptation of what was originally a piano solo, and you set your backpack down on the ground slowly as you propped yourself up with one hand on the wall.
“You can say the human heart is only make believe, and I am only fighting fire with fire,” you heard his voice get a little louder as you leaned by the doorway, “but you are still a victim of the accidents you leave, sure as I’m a victim of a desire…”
You bit your lip, for some reason remembering when Eddie drove you home again, your heart twisting as you convinced yourself again that what you thought maybe might have happened wasn’t about to happen.
“Yesterday you were an only child,” he sang softly, “now your ghosts have gone away—”
You leaned the wrong way and the floorboard under the carpet creaked; you winced, hearing Eddie stop.
“You out there, sis?” he called to you.
“I still don’t want you to call me that,” you replied back in an awkward mumble, stepping into his view with your arms crossed.
“I know,” he smiled.
“That’s a good album,” you nodded. “Glass Houses— kinda nostalgic for me.” You smiled to yourself as you remembered being twelve and thinking you were so mature and subversive for knowing that Sometimes a Fantasy was about phone sex.
“Well, I noticed you own it,” he gestured to your records shelf, which was still overstuffed now that it had to accommodate his collection as well.
“Didn’t peg you for a Billy Joel fan, though,” you noticed.
“I mean, I dunno about fan, but I think his lyrics are kinda funny,” he smiled. “And this album is his best work— even though it’s far too quiet for my tastes. All for Leyna would rock so hard if it weren’t for all the keyboards.”
“Only you would complain about Billy Joel songs having too much piano,” you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Let me guess— Louis Armstrong should ditch the trumpet, too?”
“I didn’t know you knew Jonathan Byers,” Eddie blurted out suddenly, and you knitted your eyebrows together. “You mentioned him, when the Hellfire guys came over.”
“Right,” you hummed, wondering what made him bring that up now. “Well, it was a friendship borne of necessity. He was the only other photography geek at Hawkins High— he was a year behind me so we didn’t see each other that much, but yeah, we hung out.”
“So you weren’t very close?” he pressed, and you shook your head. “Well, that’s a shame— he seemed alright, I guess.”
“You knew him?”
“I mean, know is a strong word, but… I sold to him once or twice.”
“Ah,” you nodded. “You know, I think he told me that.”
“You never smoked with him?”
“No,” you answered.
“Darn,” he snapped his fingers, “would’ve been kinda funny if you smoked my stuff way back when. But it’s not too late—”
“Ed, I’m not a stoner,” you insisted.
“Right, right,” he relented, “I’m just saying, we could get high together sometime…”
“Together? That’s even worse,” you frowned.
“But you’re still coming to my show tonight, right?”
Yes, there was one part of that drive home you still talked about— when he invited you to see his band play. You took him up on it, because apparently you had some kind of self-destructive instinct and weren’t satisfied enough with the hearing damage you’d received just from hearing Eddie rehearse alone (when he was on the Warlock, that is; you didn’t mind the acoustic, hence your eavesdropping).
Unfortunately, catching a ride to the show with Eddie meant having to get there extra early for the set-up process. Poor Gareth seemed to have an infinite supply of drums he had to unload from his parents’ trunk; and Eddie just seemed to have way more pedals than you expected.
You got through two cranberry juices while they were still only getting ready— at a certain point you wondered if they were just trying to act like they were setting up to play, because how many cords do you need to unravel when there are only three electric instruments?! And then there was the tuning, dear god the tuning, it went on for ages. Did none of them think to tune before arriving?
Finally, Eddie tapped the microphone, and you sighed as you adjusted in the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Check one two, check one two… a Slovakian hooker and a Czech one too—”
You tried not to snort at that, because it wasn’t funny, but you were desperate for any sort of entertainment after waiting that long.
“Okay, uh, hi everybody,” Eddie greeted, still fiddling with his guitar’s dials as he spoke, the mic ringing with a touch of feedback at first. “We’re glad you could make it out…”
You looked around the ‘crowd’, which is a very generous word for six middle-aged men scattered around the tables, not even looking over their shoulders to see the band playing— plus you, right in the middle-front of the room, looking up at the ‘stage’, which is a very generous word for a half-step up covered in old dirty rugs.
“Anyways, uh…” Eddie cleared his throat. “This first song is about drugs!”
Although that got a couple people to clap semi-sarcastically, that was all the attention they got as they started to play. You recognized the lead guitar part as something Eddie had been working on for a while, but it sounded better with all the other instruments behind it. The bassist, Greg, was really good, too— not that any of them were bad, but he stood out considering you’d never heard him play before.
Gareth tried to spin his drumsticks a few times and always dropped them, which made you suppress a laugh; Jeff started to sweat when harder parts of the song were coming up.
Only Eddie looked completely in his element like this. The other three were working, but Eddie looked like he was oddly relaxed. Some of those songs, when he played them, seemed to take him somewhere else.
You dutifully clapped after each one finished, even offering the occasional half-hearted woo!, but it was more awkward when no one else was doing it.
“Okay, this is our last song,” he announced after they’d finished playing your favorite one so far, apparently titled Devil Woman and more literal than you expected with a name like that. Usually the women in songs were proverbial devils, but considering the line about what he wanted her to do with her long red tail, it seemed a little more than just a metaphor.
You were more disappointed than you expected to find out they were only playing six songs— but hopefully this final one would be a good cap to the night, and then you could go home and go to sleep.
“Well, this one’s actually not our song,” he admitted, “and it’s also not our style. Or our taste. At all.”
You quirked an eyebrow, but waited for more.
“But it goes out to the only person who’s here to see us and not just to get trashed,” Eddie finished his preamble. That was you, right? He was talking about you.
Gareth counted them off, and when Eddie and Jeff started playing the riff, you recognized it, but you couldn’t place it. Only when Eddie returned to the mic and started singing did you know what song they were playing.
“Friday night I crashed your party,” he sang with a little smirk on his face, “Saturday I said I’m sorry, Sunday came and trashed me out again…”
You know, if he’d asked first, you would’ve told him a Billy Joel cover by a crappy metal band would be horrible… but it actually almost worked? Funny enough, it engaged the rest of the crowd more than what they’d played before— which sort of made sense, considering the look of the patrons here.
“And you told me not to drive, but I made it home alive, and you said that only proves that I’m insane.”
Jeff had come up to the microphone to sing harmonizing vocals, and while he didn’t have a beautiful voice per se (let’s be real, neither did Eddie), they were both smiling and it just made you smile, too.
“Remember how I found you there, alone in your electric chair— I told you dirty jokes until you smiled,” he went on, “you were lonely for a man, I said take me as I am, ‘cause you might enjoy some madness for a while—”
You found yourself singing along under your breath, and bouncing your leg to the beat. You noticed some similar energy from the men at the bar, even the ones who had looked the most disinterested at first.
“If I’m crazy then it’s true, that it’s all because a’you, and you wouldn’t want me any other way…”
really hate having to block mutuals but i also really hate having to see hypocrisy on my dash
kinkshaming is already futile and hateful enough, but 90% of writers on tumblr REALLY have no leg to stand on when it comes to kinkshaming because we ALL write stuff that's in some way concerning or strange that's the nature of fanfiction and smut. like, who am I to tell someone their work is offensive considering what I write? some people should really take a look around the beautiful glass houses they've built before throwing stones. and to be clear, disliking something personally or choosing not to follow people if they post it is not throwing stones; publicly calling their kink immoral is.
roleplaying something does NOT mean you support that thing or want it to happen to you!! implying that ever is such an obvious slippery slope to victim blaming which, in beautiful irony, is ITSELF rape apologist behavior. and this weird anti-woman feminism thing people do where they say that it's sexist and wrong for women to engage in kink that parallels real world oppression is just absurd. women are the victims of misogyny meaning we get to do whatever the fuck we want with it. policing how the oppressed respond to oppression is... not cute.
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 • eddie's chances of being an alpha are quite small. your chances of presenting as an omega, especially while still in high school, are almost none. almost.
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 • 10k
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 • SMUT (18+ only, technically dubcon due to heat, omegaverse, unprotected sex), knotting, possessiveness and protectiveness, mentions of pregnancy/slight breeding kink, size kink (alpha!eddie is Large in every way), brief trypanophobia warning, mentions of/implied deceased parent (not reader's they're fine),
“The official term is enhanced sexual dimorphism, sometimes abbreviated as ‘ESD’,” Mrs. Mittelman explained, “but, you’re probably all more familiar with the names for the two enhanced sexes: Alpha, and omega.”
You sighed as you rested your chin on your fist. Health class was always boring, and awkward. Most of all, it didn’t seem very useful. In all of Hawkins, you knew of six omegas and eleven Alphas. Why did the curriculum need to dedicate a whole month to this when you, and everyone you knew, were going to end up not presenting at all and just be betas?
“Due to modern fertility advancements, these sexes are becoming more and more rare,” she continued to explain. “Alphas and omegas, when in a mated pair, are significantly more fertile than a beta pair. However, times are changing: after all, I think all of you have beta parents, don’t you?”
You didn’t even know anyone had raised their hand, until Mrs. Mittelman pointed behind you to someone in the back.
“Yes?” she prompted, and you turned around. You were pretty sure his name was… Freddie? No, wait— Eddie. You’d seen him around, and he was sort of hard to forget with his… ostentatious styling, but you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him talk in class before.
“Uh, actually,” he cleared his throat, “my mom was an omega.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Mittelman nodded, looking a little wide-eyed. “I didn’t realize that. Well, then maybe some of what we’re talking about today will be more familiar to you. I hope you’ll bear with us.”
Was. There’s no going back after presenting, of course, so she must not be around anymore. You saw him look down, and wondered if he regretted bringing it up at all, before you returned your focus to the board where the teacher was pointing to some particularly uninteresting charts.
“The window of development for Alphas and omegas is actually very narrow: about ninety percent of enhanced sexual presentations take place at age twenty-one,” she continued. “The odds of presenting after age twenty-two are so astronomically low, that anyone who turns twenty-three without presenting is immediately registered as a beta. Can anyone remember from this week’s assigned reading—”
Everyone groaned, realizing she was about to spring a pop quiz on the class.
“— what an individual’s odds are of presentation if their parents are an Alpha and an omega?”
A girl in the front row raised her hand, and the teacher pointed to her. “Um, eighty-two percent?”
“Correct!” Mrs. Mittelman smiled. “Okay, what about the odds of presentation if one’s parents were one Alpha and one beta?”
The boy that sat next to you on the right— James Richey, which you wouldn’t know if you hadn’t been paired with him on far too many assignments— raised his hand. “Forty-five percent,” he answered.
“Ohh, a little lower,” she winced with her gentle correction, “anyone else wanna give that a try?”
Intimidated by James’ folly, it took an awkward pause for someone else to take a guess. It was your closest friend in class, and likely in the whole school, Helen. “Thirty?” she proposed.
“Well, twenty-nine, but yes,” Mrs. Mittelman. “What about if the pair is one beta and one omega? Mr. Munson, you should know this one— since it applies to you.”
The whole class turned back to look at Eddie, who was awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “You see,” he began, “I agree with you that I should know that but, uh, I didn’t exactly… read the chapter.”
Mrs. Mittelman sighed slowly. “Right, um, well… maybe someone else who did can tell us?”
“Twelve percent,” somebody behind you, from the other side, announced, and the teacher smiled.
“Yes! That’s right,” she replied. “Okay, last one: how likely is one to present if their parents are both betas?”
You raised your hand, because this one was the easiest to remember. When you were called on, you answered: “The odds are less than one percent.”
“Yes, good job,” she smiled. “Congratulations! You all passed today’s pop quiz. Your prize is… not having a pop quiz tomorrow.”
The bell rang; everyone reached for their backpacks and sighed with relief.
“Tomorrow, we’ll be covering the rest of the chapter, so if you forgot to read it,” she said pointedly, “now’s the time to do so!”
You didn’t know a lot about the guy— hell, you’d forgotten his name— but you figured Eddie Munson was not going to read the chapter, even when given a second chance. You don’t end up on your third senior year by reading the assigned material. I wonder if it bothers him, being twenty years old and still in high school, you wondered, it would sure bother me.
But that was the last time you thought about Eddie Munson for about two weeks. You didn’t plan on thinking about him again until maybe graduation, which you did hope to see him at, but you were forced to wonder about him when he was absent from class for an entire week. Frankly, you were pretty sure he couldn’t afford a vacation. A rumor had spread that he was in jail for dealing marijuana, but that was all you had to work with. Helen thought maybe he was gone for good, moved back in with some other family— you hadn’t even known before this that he lived with his uncle, so maybe his dad was somewhere out there and he was spending time with him.
All the rumors were dispelled in an instant when Eddie returned. As near-impossible as it seemed, it was even more impossible to deny when you saw it for yourself.
You were ten minutes into the midterm exam for Mrs. Mittelman’s health class when the door opened; in a silent room, it was instinctive to look up, but you choked when you saw him come in. It was Eddie, for sure— that hair and Hellfire Club tee were unmistakable— but he was… different.
Completely different.
He was taller, to the point that Mrs. Mittelman was craning her neck to look up at him (though to be fair, she was already pretty short). He was… bigger, specifically more muscular— his body was straining against his clothes, the half-sleeve of his shirt exposed the prominent veins of his forearm, even his ripped jeans struggled to hold him in anymore.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said quietly to the bewildered teacher, and even when he deliberately spoke softly, his voice was clearly deeper. She handed him a blank exam and he attempted to slip through the rows of desks to find his own seat. You certainly weren’t the only pair of eyes following him across the classroom, or the only one noticing the way he struggled to fit back behind his own desk due to his radical change in size. He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair, starting to take his test— and either not noticing, or successfully ignoring, the stares he was receiving.
At the same time, you and Helen looked at each other with wide eyes, and she mouthed something to you: What the fuck?!
Your entire class was specifically prepared to appreciate the anomaly of probability that this was. Still, statistics be damned, it was clear that in the time Eddie Munson had disappeared, he’d become an Alpha.
Three months later…
“Oh come on,” you rolled your eyes, “that’s bull and you know it.”
“I’m not sure if you really believe that that attitude is going to help you in any way,” Principal Higgins frowned, “but to be completely clear: it will not. Three dress code violations add up to an after-school detention.”
“But these are stupid violations!” you insisted. “It’s not like I was walking around in a mini-skirt— look, this one says my sneakers were untied! That’s ridiculous.”
“Arguing with me is considered disrespect of authority,” Higgins reminded you, leaning in closer, “which is also punishable by after-school detention. I’d recommend that you stop now before you end up with two dates with me this week.”
You shut your eyes to stop yourself from rolling them, but relented. That said, you were playing the interaction over and over in your mind as you sat at that desk in detention, arms crossed and lips curled in a sneer as you imagined really telling him off instead of laying down at taking it.
You jumped when the opening of the door startled you out of your fantasy, and there was Eddie— wow, he was even late to detention.
You looked down sheepishly as he crossed the room and took his seat, but once he was settled in front of you and off to the side, you had your first chance to get a good look at him after his… transformation.
It was a good thing his jacket was sleeveless, because it didn’t look like his arms would’ve fit through the sleeves if it had them. It wasn’t that he was just outrageously ripped now or something, or that he was specifically some outrageous height… he was just big. Alphas were built that way. He towered over nearly everyone in school now; he stopped getting bullied immediately after he came back, that must’ve been a nice perk. Still, for a guy who got so massive and so well-known practically overnight (or in this case, overweek), he didn’t seem that… happy?
You looked down into your lap again. Who were you to judge his emotions? You didn’t know anything about him. It was just that, well, he’d had a reputation for his antics and dramatic behavior before, but lately he was uncharacteristically quiet. He never made a scene in the cafeteria anymore, he never talked back to teachers (which he’d apparently done plenty before, you’d seen it once or twice and Helen said it happened near-daily with Ms. O’Donnell), he was just… existing. Maybe he was finally being normal. The only problem with that theory is that, while you didn’t like to buy into stereotypes, you were confident that Eddie Munson would’ve been among the first to become better behaved after presenting as an Alpha.
You weren’t trying to be sexist, really! Alphas were hormonally predisposed to aggression and impulsiveness, it was just a fact of the matter, especially when omegas or other Alphas were involved. To be fair, that wasn’t really an issue in his case, in a school where literally no other students had ESD. Technically, there was one other Alpha here, but he was a teacher… he was not only mated, but mature, and no one was exactly worried that he and Eddie were going to end up brawling on the lawn or something. Alphas were always fighting over unmated omegas anyways, of which there weren’t any in Hawkins.
It made you wonder why Eddie stayed, if he had no chance of finding a true mate here. Alphas and betas didn't get together very often, for reasons that weren’t explained in much detail in your health textbook.
Torn from your thoughts by the Principal clearing his throat and addressing the room, you looked up quickly. “Now,” he began sternly, “all my regulars know I believe in working detention— labor is good for the soul! And there’s lots of work to do on campus today so you three,” he gestured at some boys in the front, “you’re gonna be in the garden out front with our landscapers. And you four in the back, you’re sweeping up the wood shop before you give our gymnasium a good mop.”
The other students stood, and you glanced at Eddie as you realized he was the only other person left sitting.
“Uhh, you two,” Higgins noticed, “you can go clean the cafeteria. But we’re all out of mops, so, just grab some rags.”
“Rags?” Eddie noticed. “We’re cleaning the entire cafeteria floor with rags?”
“Oh, not just the floor. Table and chairs too.”
“Hopefully not in that order,” you breathed.
“Get to it,” he snapped, and Eddie gave you a quick look over his massive, hard shoulder before shrugging— god, his neck just seemed thicker when he did that.
Your eyes still found themselves lingering on the hulking mass of his body as the two of you were on your hands and knees wiping the laminate cafeteria floor.
"So," Eddie broke the silence, "you, uh… I haven't seen you in detention before."
"No," you agreed, "this is actually my first time."
"Oh wow," he smiled, "a detention virgin! Don't worry, I'll be gentle."
You snorted, shaking your head as you looked at the floor again, but the off-color joke made you feel a little strange. You blinked quickly and tried to get the image of Eddie being gentle out of your head.
"What are you in for?" he asked.
"Dress code," you nodded.
"Woah! Something skimpy?"
"Not at all," you chuckled, "just, like, ripped jeans and a visible bra strap? Apparently?"
"Aw, that's a shame," he smirked. "I was thinking I missed you showing up in some sweet little number."
You raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, mainly because your throat was suddenly a little dry.
"A-anyways," he mumbled, "I'm sorry you're here."
"Ditto," you offered, "but I know you're here kind of a lot."
"Yeah," he sighed, focusing harder on one spot that he rubbed with the rag intensely, "not as much as I used to be, but yeah…"
"Used to be… before…" you pressed.
"Before I… got big, yeah," he nodded.
An interesting way of describing it. Certainly an accurate way.
"Um," he cleared his throat, "I skipped class, that's what they popped me for this time."
"Which class?"
"Shop."
"Oh god, I don't blame you, that's my least favorite class," you hummed.
"Really? People always say they like it cause it's easy," he shrugged, "thought I was the only one that hated it."
"No, it's so annoying!" you assured. "First of all, most people aren't being safe and I'm always on edge thinking somebody's about to lose a finger— and the assignments are so stupid! Building birdhouses and clocks? Like, isn't the whole point of a high school education to be able to get a job so I can afford to just buy a birdhouse for a dollar?"
"I don't mind the part where we build stuff," he admitted, "I just don't like that we have to build it exactly like he says. Why can't there be some room for creativity?"
You nodded in agreement, clearing your throat quietly but not quite getting the catch in it; you were looking at the floor, and noticed that you were seeing spots, but simply tried to blink them away.
"I hate it even more now that I keep accidentally breaking stuff…" he continued, trailing off.
"Accidentally?"
"I'm still getting used to it… I'm stronger, you know."
Was it warm in here all of a sudden? When you first came in, it was a little chilly— normally this room was filled with warm bodies to heat it up, so it was pretty cold when it was empty… or, it had been. Now you were starting to feel your clothes cling to you, face beginning to flush.
"I broke a hammer. Splintered the handle— I guess I was holding it too hard…"
That was when you lost your balance and had to sit on the floor, leaning back against the leg of a table. The orange light of dusk, coming in through the blinds in stripes, was blurry and disorienting. A numb heat started to rush through your body, and the quick shallow breaths that filled your lungs did little to keep you from getting dizzy.
“Hey,” you heard Eddie’s voice— his hand was hesitantly holding your shoulder now, and just that made you soothe slightly. “You okay?”
"I…" you began, but you didn't know what to say. “Eddie,” you said softly, “I don’t… I feel weird.”
His hand moved up to your forehead, and you sighed and shut your eyes to savor every moment of his touch. “Christ, you’re burning up.”
Your hands reached out blindly, grabbing onto his thick thigh through his jeans. You heard him cough slightly. “Something’s wrong, just… just need you to stay with me,” you breathed.
"Um, o-okay," he agreed hesitantly, kneeling in front of you.
It was like a sharp pain— a tightness that twisted inside you— and you hissed in a breath through your teeth as your sneakers slid on the tile.
"Do you need some water?" he wondered, and when his hand cradled your face for a second, you shuddered and relaxed against the table leg behind you.
"No, I just need… I…" you panted. Just touch me more, you thought, though you didn't understand why. Another pang hit your gut and you clutched your stomach, hunching forward with a wince.
"I-I'm gonna get the nurse," he promised, but you suddenly grabbed onto his arms tightly, stopping him from getting up.
"No, don't go," you panted, "don't leave— you can't leave me here, Eddie!"
"Okay, okay! I'm not gonna leave!" he promised, frustrated at first but softening up when he saw how scared you were. "I'm not gonna leave, I swear."
"I don't know what's happening," you whispered under your breath. "God— what's happening to me?"
"You're just…" he began, trailing off, "you're— fuck, I don't know. But I think it's… I don't know how, but I think you might be—"
"Just tell me!" you sobbed.
You were clawing at his jacket, desperate to touch his skin, desperate for anything he would give you. That was when you first felt the heat gather between your legs, a pulse inside you just before a gush of wetness that almost made you worry you were wetting yourself— until you felt it, felt that need arch your back and throb in your channel. It felt like being turned on, it wasn’t like you’d never felt that before, but it was so much more intense that it almost felt like a new sensation entirely. Even though your mind didn't understand what was going on, your body was calling out for him: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha—
Something changed in the air then.
"What did you call me?"
His voice was just as dark as his eyes, and suddenly you stilled. Oh god, you'd said it out loud.
"Say it again," he ordered; for what little you knew about all this, you knew why your body gave into his demand like it couldn't do anything else but obey.
"Alpha," you whimpered, looking up at him. But you knew what he was already— right then, you were realizing what you were. Only omegas were susceptible to an Alpha's voice like that. This isn't possible, this is not possible… I'm too young, my parents are betas, how is this happening to me?
"You're going to be okay," he promised, "I know… I know it hurts. But I can make it better, I can help you."
You nodded, panting, going along with it because you just needed him, needed the help he was promising. You felt dizzy and delirious, but somehow the feeling was sort of addictive— like you craved the cure as much as the sickness. With Eddie here, it was tolerable, even though the waves of pain made you shudder and whine through your teeth.
“I’m gonna help you,” he whispered, again.
You blinked at him, trying to clear the haze from your eyes, and saw the dark shimmer in his own— his pupils had blown out wide, his nostrils were flaring; he kept shaking his head, like he was trying to clear his thoughts, and it made his fluffy hair rustle. “How?” you finally asked.
His hands tightened as they gripped your shoulders, and you clutched at his chest, whimpering under your breath as you felt the strong muscle under his thin shirt and hot skin. “Do you trust me?” he replied instead of answering.
You nodded. “Anything, Alpha, please—”
“Fuck,” he choked, and you gasped as his face buried in the crook of your neck. His nose brushed against your jaw, his mouth was right up against your pulse as he spoke. “I can smell you, you know— I can smell what you are. It’s… I read about it, but I never knew…”
Your eyes had already fluttered shut as you hung off of him, and you could smell him too; you were so overstimulated that it was hard to focus on it, but it was sort of musky and warm and smoky— and sweet. Like a Christmas fireplace with roasted chestnuts and caramel just starting to toast on the stove; it was like a memory you hadn’t lived yet, nostalgia for a home you never had.
You whimpered slightly as he pulled away, reaching out for more of his touch, but he just looked at you with his mouth open a bit to let his heavy breathing pass through. “I— I can help you, I’m gonna help you,” he kept insisting, speaking hurriedly as he opened his belt and jeans. It was slightly disconcerting, but your need was growing and you were in no place to reject his help— not when searing pain bloomed from your gut, crawled up your back and into your mind where it demanded the touch of an Alpha.
Still, you had some sense left in you. As well as plenty of fear; your eyes nearly popped out of your head when they caught a glimpse of his cock. "No— no way," you shook your head, trying to scoot away, "it won't… it can't—"
"It'll fit," he insisted, his grip tightening for a moment on his concerningly-massive erection, "you're an omega. You're made to take it."
Even as terror clawed at your mind, arousal was coursing through your veins; hearing him talk like that, seeing his body, it all called to something incredibly primal inside you. Something you didn't even know you had… technically, maybe you didn't until just now. Or maybe it was always there, waiting for Eddie— after all, you'd presented after being around him for the longest (and closest) you ever had.
"I won't hurt you, I swear," he breathed, but you could hear his desperation, too. It must be hard, presenting young in a town like Hawkins where all the omegas are already long-since mated and married— and maybe a little mature for a twenty-year-old anyways, if that mattered. And as for betas, well, you'd heard that it was… difficult, for Alphas and betas to mate. Now you saw directly why: it could kill them, trying to take this. You were still afraid it would kill you. "It won't hurt, it's… it's going to feel good. It's natural."
"Okay," you nodded, "okay, just… talk me through this, please— Alpha, I'm scared…"
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It should've been awkward, hugging a relative stranger, but it was so comforting… you sighed and held him, too, a bit of the ache inside you stilling. And yet, your anticipation was growing: you felt another wave of slick start to leak out of you, and you whimpered slightly.
"Please," you whispered, "help me… I want you to."
"Shit," he blurted out, letting you go just long enough to peel his jacket off quickly. "Just lay down, okay?" he offered as he put the jacket down on the floor behind you, not much padding from the hard tile but at least some protection from the coldness of it.
You laid back, shivering as he climbed on top of you. "Have you ever done this before?" you asked suddenly. "Not just sex— helping an omega, specifically…"
It was kind of a stupid question, because where the fuck were these hypothetical omegas Eddie might have been with? But you weren’t exactly thinking straight at the moment, understandably. "Well, uh, no," he mumbled, "but I think I know how to do it. I mean, I think I've always known— I couldn't tell you how, but… I can feel it."
You swallowed nervously.
"Trust me," he insisted. "I know how much it hurts, I… just trust me.”
He was alone when he presented, after all; you finally put that together, and the thought of it inexplicably made your heart twist. You knew nothing of the perils of presentation for an Alpha, but if anything like this… and he didn’t have anyone to hold him like he held you, to tell him it would be okay, to take the pain away… god, how did he survive it?
When he started to lift up your shirt, you did your best to help him— the wave of cool air on your overheated skin was almost a relief, until suddenly you were freezing. You pulled him down close to you, feeling the warmth of him even through his shirt, and sighed happily.
He helped you out of your pants next, and you should've felt incredibly strange being completely naked in your fucking cafeteria. But you didn't, you felt better even, you felt more natural than ever as his eyes drank you in and his hands carefully parted your thighs.
"See, all this— this is your slick," he explained, dragging two fingers through your swollen folds until you jolted from his touch.
There was so much, you'd nearly soaked through your jeans, and just one swipe had soaked his thick fingers with clear, shiny arousal.
"It's gonna help you," he continued, panting slightly as he stared at his glistening hand. "Fuck, you can smell it, right? It smells so good."
You could smell something, but you wouldn't necessarily call it good… it was sort of earthy and sour, not like a perfume or candy or something. Maybe it smelled different to him, or maybe he was just attracted to it anyway.
"I think if Mr. Maxwell was here, he'd be able to smell it— from anywhere in the building," Eddie explained. Mr. Maxwell was the only Alpha teacher at Hawkins High… you were suddenly very thankful he wasn't here. He certainly didn't seem like the type to go after his own student for being a brand-new omega, but what did you know?
"What would happen, if he did?" you mumbled. "If he smelled me?"
Eddie considered that for a second. "I… I don't know. I think he's able to control himself."
Well, that response begged a new question: "Can you?"
You saw his throat bob as he swallowed, his gaze still trained on where your thighs glistened with your need. "I don't know," he admitted. "If you asked me to go now…"
He tensed his jaw, and met your gaze.
"I don't know if I could stop," he informed you sternly. "So don't ask me to, and we won't have to find out."
You shuddered and nodded; you wouldn’t ask him to stop, not when you needed him this badly. Not when the idea of being alone, of being away from him, made your gut sink.
Still, your heart was racing— you wondered if he could hear it, too, since it was deafening inside your own head— as he reached for you, that intimidating cock still curling up from his opened jeans.
He gripped it with one hand, petting your thigh with the other, guiding himself right up against you; your quivering cunt flexed against itself, another wave of slick leaking down to the floor under you— coating him, before he was even inside.
“Trust me,” he breathed, “trust me— please, let me do this. Tell me I can fuck you.”
“Y-you can fuck me, Alpha, please,” you whined.
Holding on tight to your hip, he pushed his thick head inside; you were crooning and gasping already, trying to push down for more even though it was already almost too much, but his strong grip kept you still and perfectly helpless.
“More,” you begged under your breath, “god, please? Wan’ everything, need all of you— Alpha, my Alpha…”
His tongue and lips were all over your neck, hair tickling your chest and face. “So good, omega, you’re doing s’good, just stay still.”
It didn’t hurt until he was halfway in, and you whined loudly as you grabbed at his thigh under your own, hoping to slow him down. He was breathing just as hard as you, hot air spreading over your skin that was wet with his spit now, sensitive from the assault of his lips and teeth.
He didn’t warn you that he was going to give you the rest, he just pushed it in all at once and groaned as you choked out your sob.
"Fuck," he said with a gasp, "I— ah, god— I didn't know it would be like this…"
And neither did you, you didn't know how quickly your pain would fade and your body would give in to him. He was right, it didn't hurt much… there was a sting, yes, and a stretch, but it was good pain. It was pain you were made to take, like he said.
"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly. You could only nod; words had abandoned you. Well, except one.
"Alpha," you moaned, and you heard him growl beside your neck.
"I'm here, omega," he promised. "I'm gonna give you what you need… you're gonna be okay, you're safe."
You held on tighter to his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck, and he started to move. The stretch was so intense that your legs were shaking with every movement, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything, you wouldn’t give up this friction inside you for the world right now— it was a salve for the pain that had been clawing you open from the inside out, but just as intense as the pain had been, now you had this hunger instead. This… need.
“Feels so good,” you heard him whisper against your ear, “fuck, omega, you feel so good inside, you were made for me. You were made for this, I know— I know you’re mine.”
You nodded quickly, biting your lip. As he held you close and moved inside you, time moved differently— slower, but all at once, like you were stuck in a dream.
Everything else faded away— the fear that someone would walk in, the awareness of where you were and how this happened, anxiety and confusion and pain— and you were just drowning in every sensation: his tongue laving at your neck, his fingers holding your waist tightly, his cock inside you and stretching you. He didn’t say much at first, he didn’t need to, but when you shuddered and another wave of slick leaked out around him, you felt him smirk. “So wet,” he praised, “so good for your Alpha. Do it again.”
You were almost self-conscious about how wet you were, maybe you would've been if it wasn't for Eddie being enraptured by it— he was looking down at where your bodies were joined, amazed as he watched you soak his cock over and over with more of your arousal. You could hear it, the filthy wet sounds somewhat distant and fuzzy in your ringing ears, and your face was hot— your whole head was feverish, really, and your eyes were teary just from how overwhelmingly wonderful it felt.
"Fuck," you heard him grunt under his breath, "it's so— god, how do you feel? Are you okay?"
You opened your mouth to try to tell him that it was perfect, he was perfect, but only a pathetic moan came out; you nodded quickly instead.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "You look beautiful like this— so pretty for me."
A pained whine jumped out through your teeth— even though you felt good, his words brought back some of that ache from before, and your back arched up off the floor dramatically.
You were about to relax a bit and lay flat again, until you felt his hand move up your thigh, over your mound where his palm rested while his thumb brushed over your clit. Your body jolted; you were confident you'd never been that sensitive there before.
"Alpha!" you whimpered.
"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "you need to come— it's gonna help you. You trust me, right? Let me help you."
But the feeling inside you was already pushing you to your limits— his cock was already so deep that it felt like it was going to hit the back of your brain or something.
He rubbed your clit as fast as he could, holding your hips steady with his other hand so you couldn't try to buck away from his touch. You convulsed and moaned, holding onto him with all your fading strength.
“Alpha, Alpha, please!” you sobbed. “It’s— too much!”
“No, you can take it,” he promised roughly under his breath. “Just come for me, let go, little omega— please, let go for your Alpha, this is what you need. You need to come for me— come, right now.”
Shivering and crying loudly, your body went limp— except for inside, where you were pulsing uncontrollably, bearing down on his thick length. It was so intense, it almost hurt, and yet it was your favorite pain you ever felt.
You hadn’t noticed that your hands were grabbing his arm until they let go, leaving just a bit of moisture on his sleeve from the clamminess. “Did you…?” he began to ask. “I mean, is it better now? It hurts less?”
You tried to process his questions, but you were still coming down from it, still catching your breath. “It’s… it’s a little better.”
“You need more?” he asked, and fuck, it was a totally genuine question, but the way he said it…
Nodding, you pulled him down on top of you and buried your face in his neck. “Just don’t stop,” you pleaded, “Alpha— don’t stop, m’gonna be good for you…”
It was impossible to define what compelled you to say that, but it didn’t really matter. Your first orgasm had numbed your body and mind enough to let you just submit to your instincts, to trust not only your Alpha, but your own body and its ability to do what it was made to do. It felt better, when you stopped worrying and accepted your place.
And no, despite what some sexists might say, your place was not beneath. Your place was not serving, pleasing, obeying. Your place was simply in his arms. Your place was with your Alpha.
“I— fuck, I don’t know how much longer I can last,” he admitted lowly. “You just… you feel so good, omega, you’re my omega, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Alpha,” you promised.
“Loved feeling you come on me,” he grunted through his teeth, “can you do it again? If I tell you to?”
“I’ll do— I’ll do a-anything you tell me to,” you stuttered as you tried to swallow past the dryness in your throat from panting so hard.
“Then come,” he demanded again, renewing the movements of his thumb on your clit— but honestly, you didn’t even need it. Just his voice, just an Alpha’s voice ordering you (as well as the overly-sensitive feeling your last orgasm had left behind) was enough to send you over the edge in just a few moments. He praised you all the way through it, every kind word like another shock of ecstasy through your body. “So good,” he said again, rough and deep as he rested his head on your shoulder, “so good for me, omega— feels so good when I make you come.”
You smiled through your exhaustion because it felt so good to make him feel good— to know you were pleasing him.
"It might hurt a little," he warned, "but it's gonna— fuck, s'gonna be so good, if you just trust me."
"I trust you, Alpha," you promised. "Want your knot, please…"
“Beautiful,” he grunted as he fucked you harder and faster, “my beautiful omega— mine.”
You whined through your teeth, clutching his shoulders tighter. “Alpha!”
“Whose omega are you?”
“Y-yours,” you choked, “yours, Alpha, Alpha…”
“Tell me again,” he demanded.
“I’m yours! Yours, Eddie—”
He cut you off with a rough kiss right away; you didn’t even question it. You felt him coming inside you and your mind went blank, your body went crazy, your senses went haywire. He was coming inside you, and nothing had ever felt so good. You sobbed with joy, holding onto him tighter as you felt the base of his cock swelling— you already thought you were at your limits, and yet his knot kept growing inside you and you just kept taking it.
“Alpha,” you whispered with the last of your breath.
He couldn't move as much with the knot growing, keeping him buried inside you, but he still ever-so-slightly rocked your body, grinding his hips against yours.
You fell back onto his jacket on the floor with a sigh, panting so hard you thought your chest might not fit all the air you were gasping for. Finally you felt almost like yourself again, almost lucid, though still sort of numb all over; which, considering the incredible fullness inside you, was a good thing.
You tried to adjust your hips, wincing as it disturbed the delicate balance within you. Your bodies were interlocked now, and your returning logical mind remembered that this part might last for a while— that was the whole point, evolutionarily speaking.
“Fuck,” Eddie grunted, finally stilling completely and propping himself up on his arms above you. You watched him catch his breath, admiring the shape of his jaw, the way his lashes looked extra long when his eyes were shut and they fell over his cheeks; you reached up and brushed some hair away from his face, and that seemed to get his attention. “I-I’m sorry,” he blurted out.
“What? Eddie, no— thank you, thank you so much,” you sighed, “the pain’s gone.”
“For now,” he warned. “It’ll come back— if it’s anything like mine was. You’ll need more… a lot more.”
You worried, for a moment, that he was telling you that you needed more than he could give. You couldn’t imagine anyone or anything else helping you now— you needed him, that much was clear. You grabbed a handful of his shirt, and he looked down at that hand on him before he looked at your face again.
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
“Like this?” you panted. “What am I gonna tell my parents?”
“N-no, my home,” he corrected, and you were surprised, yet somehow you soothed at the same time. “I-it’s not much, just a trailer, but you can nest there and I can… I can take care of you.”
Your heart was singing; you’d never been cared for before. You never wanted to admit that you needed it.
~
You were sort of on autopilot; you’d been gathering random linens and clothes of Eddie’s and piling them on the corner of the bed. You couldn’t say exactly… why, but Eddie explained it was natural. At least when you were doing this, you weren’t so needy that he had to stay and hold you— he could actually go out and get some provisions for the both of you.
He told you that this whole thing could take up to a week, but you could stay here and Wayne was going to find somewhere to crash until you were done; he told you it was going to get worse before it got better, and come and go in waves. Most importantly, he told you that he would do whatever he could to help you.
You could hardly believe he was a near-total stranger to you this morning. There was still an awkwardness there, especially on his part, but you felt this impossible connection with him now— you felt so safe with him, in fact you never felt safe without him. Which was why you smiled with excitement the moment you heard his van pull up outside.
By the time he was at the door, you were already opening it for him. “Hi,” you beamed.
“Hey,” he smiled back, a bit more hesitant.
You reached for the grocery bags. “L-lemme help you with those—”
“Nooo way,” he denied as he lifted them over your head while he stepped past you, “let the big strong Alpha do it, sweetheart.”
The door swung shut and you thought you could swoon. Sweetheart. This kind of shit would’ve made you roll your eyes yesterday. Now you were such a sucker for it, and he was just being friendly.
“Plenty of food for the next few days,” he explained as he sorted the contents of his bag into either the pantry or fridge. “Nothing, you know, fancy, but… it’ll keep your energy up. And mine.”
You watched him, clutching your hands together in front of you, though you weren’t sure what exactly you were waiting on. You just liked watching him, really.
“Oh! I got some ice packs too,” he remembered. “You might get really hot, o-or crampy, so those can help a lot.”
“Okay,” you nodded, smiling. He shut the pantry door that he’d been leaning behind and looked over at you. After a quick moment, he stepped up in front of you, and you tilted your head back to look up at him; he smiled, and reached up to hold your face in his hand.
Looking straight forward, you were right at eye-level with his Hellfire Club shirt. You reached to where it ended, just beside his black faux-leather belt, and you started to lift it up off of him. Smirking a bit, he helped you take it off of him— you immediately held the ball of fabric up to your face, inhaling his scent. You hardly even noticed his toned chest dotted with hair and tattoos, you were too busy realizing you’d just found the perfect final piece for your nest.
You ran to the bedroom and pounced onto the bed, stuffing the shirt in with the other clothes and things, smiling contentedly as you buried yourself in them. A long, deep inhale filled your lungs with the smell of Alpha, and it made everything feel alright.
You felt the bed dip as Eddie climbed onto the mattress with you, and you poked your head out from your little cave. “Doin’ alright in there?” he asked, and you bit your lip as you nodded. “I’ll just leave you be until you need—”
“No,” you interjected quickly, grabbing his guitar pick necklace and tugging him closer. “No, stay here… you were just gone for so long…”
“Yeah, we needed food,” he reminded you.
“But I didn’t like you being gone,” you breathed.
“I thought you were okay with it! You said I could go,” he remembered.
“Y-yeah, but then, you know…” you trailed off. Your eyes wandered over his bare torso, over his arms and shoulders…
When you looked at his face again, he was smiling a little, and he reached up to push his hair out of his face. “But then?” he prompted.
“I just missed you more than I thought I would,” you sighed.
“Yeah?” he hummed, scooting up on the bed to be even closer to you. “I missed you more than I thought I would, too. I probably still reek of you— and your slick.”
You whimpered. “Do I smell like you?”
“You fucking better,” he said plainly, like it wasn’t so hot that your thighs quivered briefly.
He pulled you close to him, pressing your face against his chest; when you breathed in, you got a big whiff of his skin, of the heady scent of your Alpha. It silenced every anxiety in your mind and body, and you realized you’d never felt this comfortable— this safe— in your life. Something instinctive told you that you were going to be protected and loved; you felt whole.
You snuggled into his arms, nuzzling at his chest, and he sighed as he kissed your head. “You’re cute,” he informed you quietly, and you smiled as you looked up at him.
“Really?” you hummed, and he nodded. “You’re… big.”
He laughed. “I’m still getting used to it,” he admitted. “All of it.”
Your eyes drifted to his chest in front of you, and your fingers drew random shapes in his thin body hair— then moved to trace his tattoos. “What’s it like?” you asked. “Going through all this…”
"It's… honestly, it sucks," he laughed lightly. "It's like puberty all over again."
"Fuck."
"But worse."
"God," you whined, letting your head fall onto his chest. "Tell me I'm not gonna have to do this alone."
His hand reached up and pet your head. "You're not gonna have to do this alone."
Your heart hurt as you imagined him doing this alone— of course, presenting is different for Alphas and omegas, they have ruts while you have heats, but it must be similar compared to everything else.
"Are we gonna… do we need to talk about it?" he asked.
"About what?"
"About how we woke up this morning as basically total strangers," he replied. "About how I wasn't even sure if you knew my name. And now we… now I…"
You nodded against him. “It’s weird how right it feels. Like, I know I should be questioning it.” You tilted your head up to put your temple on his shoulder, so you could look at his face. “I know it shouldn’t make any sense. But it does.”
“Maybe it’s always like that,” he wondered.
“Maybe,” you offered.
He kissed your forehead. “Or,” he breathed, “maybe it’s just that you really were always supposed to be mine.”
You didn’t reply to that with words, just a shiver and an arm slipping around his torso to hold onto him tighter. As much as it was far too romantic for anything you were willing to believe, there was a growing mountain of evidence that implied he was right— that you were his from the start. First of all, you presented early, and suddenly, when you were close to him for a while.
His gentle kisses moved in a path down your face, finding your neck and teasing you there carefully. “Do you like being mine?” he asked softly. You nodded as you held onto him tighter, moaning when he dragged his teeth over your skin. “I’m so fuckin’ lucky, got this pretty omega all to myself. Every Alpha’s dream— sweet little cunt in heat to breed.”
He rolled you onto your back and descended on you, pressing his body weight into you, and you spread your legs without even thinking about it.
It wasn’t as bad as the first wave, but it still made you hot and needy, it still robbed you of logical thinking and turned you into a desperate, mewling little thing beneath him. You were too caught up in the dreamy fog of it all to even be embarrassed, to care about begging for him so pathetically— he didn’t even have to make you beg, he never teased you, he gave you everything you wanted. Still, you were a broken record: please, Alpha, fuck me— need you, Alpha, please, please—
“Knot me,” you begged, too, and he groaned as he held you tighter. “Please, s’the only thing that makes the pain go away, please? Alpha, give me your knot, wanna be full—”
“Shh,” he soothed, “I know, I know, baby… but maybe— fuck, maybe I should pull out this time.”
“No, please!” you sobbed. “Feels so good when your knot’s inside me, Alpha.”
“You could… you can get pregnant,” he reminded you thinly, even though it was sort of obvious— that’s the point of all this, biologically. “It’s not as likely your first heat, you’re still just presenting, but… you could.”
“I don’t care,” you breathed, “just please, Alpha, come in me again, please please—”
“Okay,” he promised with kisses all over your face, “it’s okay, I will, m’gonna help you. Just need you to come one more time first.”
“Can’t,” you shook your head, but then again, you’d said that last time and he still made you do it.
“C’mon, omega, just wanna feel one more? You can do it,” he cooed, “you can leak a little more slick with that pretty hole, I know you can, I know— it’s gonna hurt but it’s worth it, just one more…”
You were about to tell him you really couldn't do it, that three was your official limit, even though your heat-brain hated the idea of saying no to Alpha.
"Just one more," he pleaded, "for me, sweetheart?"
And before you knew it, you were nodding and bracing yourself, letting every sensation wash over you even though you might explode from being so overwhelmed. You didn't explode in a literal sense, but you almost felt like you did— it hit you like a train and you sobbed out his name pathetically as you tried to take it all.
His knot swelled inside you a moment later, bringing the only real relief you got from this. Eddie seemed to think that your orgasms were the key to staving off your heat-induced delirium, but it was his that soothed your body and mind the most.
Those moments you spent forced to be near him as you both waited for the swelling to go down enough for him to pull out… those were the moments you could think clearest, but your sanity was wasted on simply laying there letting him coo at you gently, praising you, kissing your face and neck. Those were the moments you really remembered that this was Eddie Munson, that guy in health class, a relative stranger— and everything you needed.
"Oh, it’s all messed up,” you mumbled as you looked up at the pile of clothes you’d carefully arranged on the bed, seeing it had toppled over in the heat of the moment. You tried to reach for it to fiddle with it, but Eddie laughed softly as he guided your face to look at him again.
“Welcome back,” he greeted, pecking the end of your nose with a kiss. “The nest can wait— just talk to me for a minute, please?”
You smiled and kissed him back on the lips— just for a second, until he held your face tighter with both hands and kissed you harder and longer. You hummed into it, feeling him smile against you, and he finally let go to nuzzle his face into your neck. “Your hair is tickling me,” you complained as you tried to sputter enough to get one wayward wavy strand out of your mouth, but he shook his head just to make it even worse; you giggled and turned your face away, still getting pelted with hair as you laughed harder. “Stop!” you whined, feeling his hands hold you at either side to keep you pinned under him.
He only stopped when he suddenly rolled onto his back, holding you tight and pulling you with him— you still couldn’t separate from each other, and so you were laying on his chest and straddling his hips with your weak legs. “I can feel it when you laugh, you know,” he told you, still smiling. “Inside.”
You shivered, holding him tighter. Why was that so hot? You clenched, intentionally, to see if he’d react, and he hissed in a little breath. “You can feel that?” you realized, and he nodded.
You did it again, and he hissed and gripped your hips. “Don’t do that,” he warned, “unless you want me to fuck you again.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, he grinned back at you.
“Okay, wait,” he breathed, “that was basically asking you to do it. Just… wait until the knot goes down, okay? I don’t recover as fast as you.”
You nodded, resting your chin on his chest and blinking up at him as he sighed and relaxed under you. His hands stroked your back, mostly mindlessly, while you found yourself reaching up to play with his hair.
“Are you still gonna want me around?” he asked suddenly, looking down at you again. “When the heat’s over.”
You hesitated, opening your mouth and then shutting it again.
“I shouldn’t ask that now,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly as if frustrated with himself. “You can’t know yet. I guess what I’m trying to say is… if you just want this to be… this, that’s okay. I can help you out and then we can go our separate ways.”
You swallowed thickly; he made it sound easy, but imagining it was impossible. You couldn’t be separate from him, it would be excruciating.
“But, you know, if you wanna… go out sometime,” he stumbled over his words, “a-after this is all over, and we can leave the house again—”
“Are you asking me out?” you realized, eyes widening.
“Um,” he stalled, laughing slightly, “yeah. Trying to, at least.”
“You’re literally inside me right now,” you reminded him, “and you’re hesitating to ask me to be your girlfriend.”
“Woah, woah,” he scoffed as he raised his hands, “I just said a date, let’s not rush things—”
You laughed and shoved his face away in punishment, but he held you by your wrists and sat up, keeping you perched in his lap as he kissed you— both of you still giggling a bit as you moved your lips together.
One week later…
"You understand why your case is so important to us," the doctor explained, smiling politely as he looked at you. "Presenting at eighteen is rare enough, even for someone with a much higher likelihood of having ESD. But with two beta parents… those odds make winning the lottery seem likely."
Eddie had already joked about buying some Powerball tickets, but you still weren't sure if this was all incredible luck or misfortune. That said, you did feel better with his arm around your shoulders; he'd insisted on coming into the exam room with you, despite the exasperated nurse explaining you were meant to come in alone. You were impressed she stood up to an Alpha for as long as she did, but she gave in eventually, and you were thankful for it.
"If you don't mind, we'd like to run some tests," the doctor continued. "If we understand your unique case, we may understand the entire concept of dimorphism better. Would you give your consent for our research?"
You were swinging your legs as they hung off the exam table, watching your bare feet brush against Eddie's shoes; the hospital gown wasn't enough to shield you from the coldness and sterility of the air, and you leaned harder into Eddie for warmth. Looking up at the man in the white coat, you only hesitated a second before nodding.
"We'll need a few blood samples," the doctor enumerated as you sighed through another understanding nod, "and a cervical sample."
"Cervical?" Eddie repeated.
"Yes, from the cervix? It's—"
"I know what the cervix is," Eddie frowned. "How would this sample be collected?"
"Um, well, I would insert a brush up the—"
"Nope," Eddie interrupted firmly, "no, no way."
"I—" the doctor started.
"Nothing's going up anything, okay? Nothing's going… in her."
"I understand that you're feeling protective at the moment," the doctor sighed. "That's a normal hormonal reaction."
You blinked and stared down into your lap, where Eddie's hand was holding yours tightly, just under the plastic bracelet that had your information on it. Name, birthday, patient ID number, and of course, sex. You expected to see an F there, like you always had on any form or ID or paperwork. You were still getting used to what you saw instead: O.
A normal hormonal reaction. Does that mean it's not really real? That it's a phase that passes, and you'll just be strangers again?
You squeezed Eddie's hand, feeling him squeeze yours back; it felt so real now, though. You couldn't imagine life without this, even though that's exactly what your life had been until just a week ago.
"That said," the doctor continued, "she needs to make her own medical decisions. If we feel that your presence is putting her under any duress, and therefore interfering with her right to informed consent and medical privacy, we will have you removed from the premises."
You almost wanted to see them try, three beta security guards versus one Alpha running on mating instincts. But you shook your head and spoke up instead. "It's alright," you interjected, "I— I don't want an internal exam, please. But you can take as much blood as you need."
Even that seemed to frustrate Eddie, who huffed a little and gently squeezed your shoulder, but kept his mouth shut. The doctor smiled. "It won't be that much," he assured, "just a few vials. And a cheek swab, if that doesn't count as internal."
“That’s fine,” you nodded.
When the doctor left to get the tools needed to draw your blood, you laid your head on Eddie's shoulder as he gently played with your hair.
"I don't think that guy likes me too much," Eddie whispered, making you smile and tilt your face into the crook of his neck.
"He's just trying to make sure you're not controlling me," you assured.
"But compared to your parents he's, like, my biggest fan," Eddie added, and you smacked him lightly on the chest as you laughed.
"Shut up," you mumbled, "they don't hate you… they're just trying to understand all this. So am I, honestly."
One of his strong hands came up to hold your face, thumb petting your temple, as he kissed the top of your head. Wayne had been the first to deliver the news to your parents, and you would never have enough money in your life to repay him for being the one to knock on their door and say hey, funny story, your daughter's an omega and she's currently getting her brains fucked out by my nephew, anyways see you in a week when she gets her logical reasoning back and also might be pregnant, toodaloo.
(You figured he found a better way to say it than that, but still, that was probably what they heard.)
It was a couple days before you were stable long enough to go over there yourself, Eddie close by your side the whole time, trying to explain it as best you could in a way they would understand. They, too, had made Eddie leave to speak with you alone— even though it made you feel like you had to leave your heart in the other room— and asked you if somehow he was making you do this. It seemed like no matter what you said, people had trouble believing that Eddie saved you, that you needed him now and that he needed you, too.
Not that you could really blame them, because it wasn't something you could put into words, either. You just felt it. It was basic, natural instinct. It's like trying to explain why you eat multiple times a day or why you have to get up and walk to be able to cross the room.
You were snuggled up in Eddie's arms when a nurse came in, rolling a cart with the essentials for a blood draw on top. You bit your lip when you saw four vials, knowing how those were going to get filled.
"Are you afraid of needles?" she asked.
"I… have a healthy respect for them," you replied, making her laugh a bit.
"That's fair," she nodded, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling your arm so she could wipe down the area she was going to prick.
You turned your face into his chest, closing your eyes, since you figured looking would only make it worse.
As she tied your arm and searched for the vein, Eddie held your head to his shoulder tightly, soothing you gently. "It's okay," he whispered against your head, "you're okay…"
He winced almost as hard as you did when she finally did it, and you knew that this was hurting him, too. You felt the same way when he accidentally cut his finger, or when he told you about some of the more difficult stories from his past; his pain was your pain.
"All done!" the nurse announced with a little too much chipperness as she untied the tight rubber from your arm and taped down a cotton ball to the small dot of a wound.
You exhaled slowly, and Eddie kissed your cheek. "You did so good, sweetheart," he praised.
"That's sweet," the nurse cooed, sweetness quickly slipping into condescension. "I guess you two are mates, huh?"
You wished you had the guts to blurt out the first snarky thing you thought of: No, he's my tax attorney. Of course he's my mate, are you blind?
"Yeah," you offered shyly instead.
"How long have you been going out?" she asked, making conversation half-heartedly as she cleaned up the rolling cart and threw away what she didn't need.
"We haven't actually, uh, had a chance to go on a real date yet," Eddie interjected, making you wince and look down. "Unless this counts— but I was thinking something a little more traditional for our first date than a drive to the hospital and a blood draw."
The nurse made a little face, like she was trying to be nice, not even looking at you. "Well, that's… sweet… I'm surprised they let you back here together."
"Doctor Ali knew it was important to me," you explained quickly.
She nodded. "You're young… everything feels important when you're that age."
"What does that mean?" Eddie snapped.
"Well, it's just that… you know, first love and all," she shrugged.
"You don't get it," Eddie laughed coldly. "You're a beta, you could never understand. It's different for us— we mate for life."
Your throat caught. If that was true, it never came up in health class…
You waited until Eddie was driving you home to bring it up— but you’d been imagining asking about it ever since he said it.
"Do we really…?" you asked, looking down at your hands in your lap as you sat still in the passenger seat. "Are we mates for life now?"
He swallowed, glancing down. "We don't have to be. It's not like every omega stays with the first Alpha they meet— actually, maybe most of them don’t. But that’s how it used to be, back in the day— mates stayed together, always.”
That sounded nice; your heart beat a little faster just imagining it.
“I just…” he began, trailing off and starting over. “I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't a coincidence. Even if it seems pretty random— we didn't know each other at all, before— I think it happened for a reason."
You shivered, but nodded in agreement. “I think so, too.”
"I think you're supposed to be mine."
You smiled, looking down into your lap shyly once again. “I don’t know about supposed to, but… I know that I want to be.”
“Let me remind you, one more time,” he smirked, “that we barely know each other.”
But you knew everything that mattered about each other, and so you smiled to yourself. “I don’t care,” you insisted.
You blinked quickly, looking at him and out the window, when you realized he was pulling the van over. When you were parked on the side of the road, he leaned over the console and held your cheek in one hand as you looked up at him. His face was determined, yet soft; his eyes were even bigger than you remembered. “Do you wanna be my mate? Really?”
“Eddie,” you sighed, “of course— can’t you tell?”
“No, I know,” he shook his head, “I just mean that if we do this— if we really do this, the whole mated pair thing— it’s just you and me, for the long haul. Together.”
You reached up and put your own hand on top of his. “That’s what I want.”
“And I should warn you now,” he added, “that if you let me… I’m gonna breed you.”
You shivered. “I… I want that, too.”
He growled, quiet but enough for you to hear and gasp as it seemed to rattle through your body, as he pulled you into a kiss. You whimpered into it, clutching at his jacket needily until he smiled at you. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, and you shivered again.
“F-fuck, Eddie, can we…? Now?” you asked.
“Here?” he smirked. “In the van?”
You glanced at the back for just a split second, but he noticed, and laughed lowly in that way that made your thighs clench together.
“You wanna get in the back?” he noticed, and you nodded, looking at him again with half-lidded eyes. “I really don’t deserve you— it’s not fair, you know, me having the sweetest omega in the world all to myself.”
“Just take me,” you pleaded, sick of the teasing, desperate for him to make good on that promise to breed you— logic be damned. “Alpha…”
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your neck instead as you melted into his arms, “m’right here, sweetheart.”
hi i'm just thinking about perv!eddie tricking you into doing stuff that gets him hard-- there's the stuff that should be obvious, but you're just too silly and ditzy realize, like when you mention being insecure about your thighs and he talks you into pulling your skirt up so he can see, a little higher? little more..., until your panties are just barely poking out and he has to stop himself from grabbing his bulge. then there's the more subtle things, like telling you to go barefoot or just wear your socks around the house, or telling you it's not that cold outside when it is so he gets to see you shiver as your nipples get hard and poke through your shirt. ironically, even when you get playfully upset by his dirty jokes and call him a pervert, that turns him on too.
it could be the most innocuous thing-- drinking out of a bottle, sucking frosting off your finger, daydreaming in class and puffing up your cheeks as you blow out a sigh-- doesn't matter, it gives him dirty thoughts and makes him wonder what he's going to do to trick you next.
i have no idea if you've already answered this so my apologies if you have but when will the a/b/o eddie fic be dropping? i cannot wait to read it, my head is still reeling from your koner and wayne fics so i know this eddie fic gonna be soooo good
ps, hope you are well and you have a fabulous day!
it's going up tonight! I'm posting it once I get off work so around 5:30 central c:
Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous
Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!)
I feel you on the flopping thing. I stopped uploading my fics on here 3 yrs ago. I would be more involved but this week has wrecked me.
it's so much worse than it was 3 years ago, there are people who ONLY comment when they DON'T enjoy your fic (usually because they ignored the warnings) and then ignore everything else it's actually so infuriating
Prompts: 9. “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me.” and 16. “It would be better if you stayed away from me.”
Warnings: Jason and his friends being dicks
Word count: 1044
A/N: I changed the first prompt quite a bit because I just could not make it fit. Hopefully you like it anyway! I’m really struggling to write smut atm, so those requests have been put on the backburner. Hopefully I’ll be able to get back into them when I have more time next week, because I have an exam and I’m working this week.
Main masterlist
Follower celebration masterlist
Ko-Fi
“Do you guys really not have anything better to do?” Y/N asked Jason and his dickhead friends as they cornered her outside the lunch hall. She had not been in Hawkins long, but she knew this was not a situation she wanted to find herself in.
Jason smirked and ripped her bookbag from under her arm. “Donna Melrose says she saw you at lunch with one of Hellfire’s devil worship books.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that.” She tried to keep her voice level and not show how scared she was about being cornered by the four jocks in an almost empty corridor.
Jason chuckled and pulled her DnD book out of her bag. “Then what’s this?” He took a step forward, crowding her into the wall behind her. “You like trying to summon the devil with the freak and his friends.”
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - after presenting your portraiture project, you and eddie seem to get on a bit better... but how long can it last?
𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 5.3k
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - jealous?/protective eddie and a narrowly-avoided car accident... that's all I can think of
The professor tilted his head as he looked at Kate’s submission. “Aren’t you worried it’s a little obvious?” he asked, and she looked totally thrown off her rhythm by that.
“Well— uh, I— it’s just that—”
“Calm down,” he laughed lightly, “it’s not bad at all. The framing is perfect, and it makes the set work. The similarity between the two images makes it rather comical."
Kate had taken a picture of her daughter— barely a year old— laughing with glee as she sat on the kitchen floor, only to be already throwing a tantrum in the second picture. Based on the feedback, she’ll probably be getting a B from Professor Hill, and your palms got clammy as he stepped up to the next student; you didn’t need an A to pass the class, but you needed his approval for, you know, your sanity.
He tilted his head as he looked at Richie's submission next: two pictures of his wife, clearly posed, in sepia tones. "This is interesting," he hummed. "You're definitely showing two sides here. But… they're not as different as you think. I do like the subversion of expectations, though: the ‘happy’ side looks much more sinister than the more demure one."
"Th-thank you," Richie mumbled.
"Just maybe show a little more variety next time?" Professor Hill suggested, making Richie nod dutifully.
That feedback made you shift uncomfortably as you stood; it reminded you of waiting to be judged for the seventh grade science fair. You got second place and, though that still disappointed you because you were so close to first, your dad had taken you out for a sundae afterwards.
You swallowed as you watched the professor sigh at the sight of George’s photos. "Now, George, I see what you were going for here,” he said. “It's hard not to… you're beating me over the head with your message."
Considering George’s two photos were one of his model dressed as an angel and another dressed as a devil… yes, it was obvious. You felt a little better seeing that it wasn’t received especially well— you were afraid, when you saw George’s coming in today, that your set was too minimalistic.
But then he was looking at yours, and any sense of relief was gone as you straightened your back and waited for his feedback.
And waited.
He stared at yours for a long time. A long, long time. His face didn’t help you read him at all, and when he opened his mouth to speak, you were completely prepared for him to tear you to shreds for ignoring the prompt.
“You’ve done something so fascinating here,” Professor Hill finally broke the silence. “You know, everyone else in the class chose to show two radically different sides of their subject, in fact, most of them changed clothes for the second shot. But you… you’ve submitted two photos taken likely a split second apart.”
“Yes, actually, they were taken sequentially,” you explained.
“Why did you place them in this order?” he asked. “Why not this one on the right?”
“Well… I’ll show you,” you decided, peeling the photos carefully off of the posterboard and sticking them back on the other way around. “Doesn’t he look more insecure when they’re ordered this way? Like he’s just had a thought, but he’s deciding not to say it? I like it better the other way— it feels more hopeful.”
The professor smiled. “I agree. The order you’ve submitted them in, it evokes… the past and the future. On the left, a man caught in a memory; on the right, a man dreaming of a possibility.”
You heard some of your classmates snickering to themselves, no doubt rolling their eyes and deciding that this is all pretentious artsy over-analysis— but you smiled, because they were just jealous and Professor Hill was right.
“Congratulations,” he told you with a grin and a pat on the back, “this is really great work. I’m giving you full credit; and I’m encouraging you to submit this for the end-of-year showcase. See if you can find any galleries in Indianapolis looking for portrait work, too.”
You were so excited, you couldn’t stop yourself; as soon as you ran home from the bus stop, you jumped on Eddie with a tight embrace, beaming as you put your chin on his shoulder.
“Woah, hey,” he mumbled, but eventually, he put his arms around you. You pulled back, smiling up at him and laughing at the (understandably) confused look on his face.
“I got a perfect grade,” you explained. “Your pictures! I got an A+!”
“Oh, wow,” he smiled, hands tightening where they held your waist. “That’s amazing! Might be the closest I’ve ever been to getting an A+ myself...”
“You did get it, Eddie, it was all you,” you insisted.
“I just sat there!” he dismissed. “You took the pictures, you did all the hard work— and it paid off!”
The front door swung open, and you and Eddie looked at your mom and Wayne stepping in— and you both seemed to realize, at the same time, that his hands were around your waist and yours were at the back of his neck. And you must have also realized it was a little strange, because you both pulled away at lightning speed as your mom gave you a quizzical look.
“What’s going on?” she wondered.
“Mom— I got a perfect score on my portraiture project,” you explained, “the professor wants me to submit my work for competition.”
“Oh my god!” she gasped, running up to hug you. “That’s amazing!”
“Good job,” Wayne offered you a tilted smile and a thumbs up, which you reciprocated while you were still caught in your mom’s arms.
You glanced back at Eddie from the hug, catching his sympathetic smile.
“Let’s celebrate with a nice dinner, huh?” Wayne suddenly suggested. “We could go out somewhere—”
“Why don’t you grill some steaks?” Eddie interjecting instead. “Haven’t done that in a while.”
“If that’s what you want,” Wayne prompted you, and your mom released you from the hug.
Truth be told, you could think of a lot of dinners you would like more than Wayne’s homemade steaks, but, for one, you couldn’t think of any that your new makeshift family could actually afford…
And, two, it actually sounded sort of wholesome. Wayne at the grill, your mom making sides, and Eddie… being nice? He had gone soft on you for an afternoon in honor of your achievement, it seemed.
There was a peace to it— a sense of stillness and quiet even through the sounds of the meat on the grill, your mom making sides in the kitchen, the clanging of flatware as you and Eddie set the table. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, and Eddie would go back to his usual self soon; it could all collapse at any moment, the illusion of normalcy. It was less like a stalemate and more like a truce, like when armies declare a ceasefire for Christmas or something. You laughed politely at Wayne’s safe attempts at humor, your mom listening to Eddie’s story about how he talked his way out of detention, and both of them explained some wedding plans they’d made.
“Actually,” your mom began, looking down sheepishly for a moment at her fork piercing some pieces of corn, “we wanted to ask you two something.”
You felt oddly nervous as you imagined what question they could possibly have that could concern the both of you. You were watching her carefully, wondering if it would be the question you feared the most— the question you hadn’t even asked yourself yet— but it was Wayne that spoke up next. “We thought it might be nice if you—” he looked at you— “were the flower girl. And Ed, you could be the ringbearer.”
You glanced at Eddie, who did the same to you, and there was a shared understanding in a fraction of a moment— that you both wanted to point out that those were concerningly juvenile roles for two young adults, but that neither of you were going to say that just because it was easier to make them happy.
“That would be nice,” you nodded.
“I’m surprised you’re willing to give me any responsibility at all,” Eddie joked.
“I know they’re sort of silly jobs,” your mom smiled, “you’re probably thinking you’re a little old for a job kids normally do.”
You and Eddie looked at each other again.
“It wouldn’t be just that— the truth is, we decided not to have a bridal party,” your mom clarified.
“Right,” Eddie nodded, “and… what is that, again?”
“You know, groomsmen and bridesmaids and all that?” she told him. “The best man, the maid of honor?”
“Oh,” he hummed, “I thought— I thought a bridal party was a party you had before the wedding.”
“That’s a bridal shower,” you corrected.
“But wait, what about a bachelorette party?” he tilted his head.
“That’s a different thing,” your mom said, “and we’re not having one of those, either.”
“And no bachelor party,” Wayne added.
“Aw,” Eddie pouted, “I thought we were gonna go to strip club!” Wayne glared at Eddie who smiled nervously in response. “I’m kidding, obviously,” he mumbled sheepishly.
“The point is,” Wayne continued, “we both thought that, really, you’d be the only ones up there with us. There isn’t anybody else that matters to us much, anyways—”
I thought you had a brother, you almost blurted out, but then you realized it wasn’t worth bringing up now.
“We thought it might be sort of like having a best man and maid of honor, without calling it that. I-it was just an idea—” he stumbled, but you cut in.
“I’m really honored that you want us to be involved that way,” you assured, “and we’ll do whatever we can to help out on your day.”
Wayne smiled a bit and nodded, and your mom held and squeezed his hand. “We just want you both to know how special you are to us— and we’re so thankful that you’re supporting us. We know this hasn’t always been easy for you.”
For the third and final time, you and Eddie looked at each other. He was smirking like he could just burst out laughing right now; you imagined that you were giving him a hint of glare, but you couldn’t be sure what he saw in your eyes right then.
After that, normal dinner-consumption resumed; as usual, Eddie excused himself first— he ate fast and messy like he thought someone would swoop in and take his food away if he didn’t have it down in record time. Then your mom was finished, though she hadn’t actually finished her food, and got up to start washing dishes. And with just you and Wayne left, you figured it would be more enjoyable to help in the kitchen than try to navigate a conversation. “Thanks for the steaks, Wayne,” you told him, and with a mouthful of mashed potatoes he only offered you a polite nod as you got up and took your plate to the sink.
“Thank you,” your mom said to you quietly as you scraped your plate; you thought, at first, that she was thanking you for cleaning up after yourself, until you realized she wouldn’t thank you for something that basic.
“What for?” you pressed.
“For saying yes,” she replied. “Being our flower girl.”
“Oh,” you shook your head, “of course.”
“I know it’s silly,” your mom insisted again, “but it was Wayne’s idea, and I think it’s sweet. I think you and Eddie are still little kids to him.”
“He didn’t know me when I was a kid,” you noticed.
“No,” she agreed, “but, he knows how it feels.”
You didn’t know exactly what she meant, but you understood it enough to nod and smile. “I’m gonna go to my room,” you informed her, stepping out of the kitchen and through the living room to the hallway.
The ambient sound of Eddie’s presence— namely, the jingling of a chain and the sound of dull fingernails scratching under a mess of curly hair— made you stop outside your door, though.
You leaned around the corner, seeing Eddie holding your project in his hand; you'd had to shove the posterboard into your backpack to make it fit, but the pictures hadn't been folded at all. You were about to tell him not to go through your backpack like that, until you saw that he wasn’t doing anything.
He was just looking at the pictures— you hadn't shown them to him after development, but you let him know you'd picked two pictures from the same place.
That was meaningful since you and Eddie had taken way too many pictures, at tons of different locations around the Hawkins woods: two rolls of film were used by the end of the day.
"What do you think?" you asked him with a smile, making him jump as he realized you were watching. You could've sworn you saw him wipe his cheek with the back of his hand before he turned to look at you, but you couldn't be sure why.
"Yeah, uh," he cleared his throat, "they're good. You're… um, they're good."
“Thanks,” you nodded, “they are. I’m pretty happy with how they turned out.”
“You should be, you got an A,” he nodded, awkwardly sticking his arm out to hand them back to you. You took them back with a little smile. “Did you develop the one where I was hanging upside down from the tree? I kinda wanted to see it.”
“I didn’t,” you replied, “but I could, if you really want to—”
“No, no,” he shook his head, “don’t go through all that trouble.”
“Maybe I should,” you wondered, “and you could have it— like, something to remember our day together, I guess…”
Your heart was racing as you suggested it, but he shook his head again as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m never gonna forget that day,” he promised.
He didn’t say anything else, he just stepped past you and walked out of the room. You looked down at the pictures in your hand, and your professor’s writing underneath.
Great work! Excited to see what you can do with color next time. A+
You remembered what he said about looking for galleries to submit them to, and decided to get on with that— you left the room, too, in search of the phone book so you could start circling numbers to call tomorrow.
You would’ve never gone to sleep if you knew that Eddie was going to take over the house while you were unconscious.
It started innocently enough. "I'm gonna try to get some beauty rest for an hour or so," you announced to the lunch table as you stood up— because a foggy Sunday afternoon is the perfect time for a nap, and you hadn’t slept too well after waking up from a specific dream about your bunkmate.
"You're gonna need more than an hour," Eddie quipped, and you kicked him under the table.
"Sleep tight, honey,” your mom offered, and with that, you shut yourself in your room for a while.
You didn’t sleep all that much, but you did get some rest— most of all you got some quiet, which you were in desperate need of. Of course, you only got that quiet because you kept a pillow over your head, otherwise you would’ve heard Eddie watching TV so much louder than he needed to; he just had to try to disrupt you, it seemed.
You actually stayed stowed away for more than an hour— more like an hour and a half, until Eddie rapped on the door and leaned in.
“What?” you asked pointedly without looking up from your book.
"So, hey, here's the thing," he began. "The theater room is being used today by, well, theater— and we can't reschedule our campaign because Jeff has robotics camp…"
“There must be some part of this that I’m supposed to give a fuck about?” you assumed.
"We're meeting here tonight."
You slammed your book shut and stood up in front of your bed. "Hell no," you replied.
He coughed. "Uh, I wasn't actually asking. I live here too."
"I lived here first!" you reminded him.
"Your mom already said they could come over!" he rebutted.
"MOM!" you yelled for her, wanting that decision explained to your face.
"She's not home," he informed you, “left during your beauty rest. And she said I could have Hellfire here, so, eat me.”
“No thanks— they say you are what you eat, and I don’t wanna be a giant dork, so—” you quipped, but you were interrupted by the doorbell ringing.
“They’re here!” Eddie noticed excitedly, bounding down the hallway to the front door.
Curious, you followed him until you were in your doorway, crossing your arms and leaning against the frame.
He opened the door rather dramatically, revealing his band of fellow freaks on the other side, puffing up his chest and then bowing and extending his arm to let them in. “My good sirs,” he greeted.
They bowed in return; you felt like you were watching some kind of bizarre ritual. At least they won’t be low on virgins to sacrifice, you thought with a smirk to yourself.
It was the one with the curly hair and trucker hat that walked in first, looking around the house and nodding. “Nice place,” he told Eddie.
“It’s not his place,” you corrected, crossing your arms and getting the attention of the group. “It’s mine— or, well, my mom’s, but—”
“Woah,” the kid interrupted, eyes going wider. “You’re his sister?”
“I mean, not really—” you began, getting cut off again.
“He talks about you,” a gangly-looking kid with dark hair suddenly said.
“That’s— it sounds weird when you say it like that,” Eddie dismissed with a thin laugh as he wrapped his arms around both boys. “You came up,” he explained, “I mean, I wanted to warn them you’d be here, being all… annoying and stuff, presumably.”
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna stay as far out of your way as possible,” you promised, “I’m just gonna be in my room—”
“Wait, don’t we get to meet Eddie’s new sister?” the curly-haired one frowned. “After he talked about her so much?”
“What?” you asked.
One of the older boys, standing in the back, mumbled, “You don’t even know the half of it.”
“Hey!” Eddie barked at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped.
“Guys, can’t you just introduce yourselves? Act normal for a half second?” Eddie suggested to the group.
“You said normal is overrated,” the dark-haired one reminded him.
“Yeah, but this is a girl. You guys remember how to talk to girls, right?”
Most of them shook their heads.
“Lucky for you all, I’m actually a woman,” you frowned, “and I’m just gonna hide in my room, if you don’t mind—”
“Our room,” Eddie smiled, tilting back on his heels for a second.
The one with curly hair stuck his hand out towards you. “I’m Dustin. Henderson— Dustin Henderson, nice to meet you.”
You gave his hand a quick glance before shaking it; god knows where that’s been. “Eddie talks about you too, you know.”
“Really?” Dustin smiled.
“I’m sure much more flattering things than he says about me,” you laughed.
“Uh— I’m Mike,” the taller one offered next. “Mike Wheeler.”
“Wheeler! You’re Nancy’s little brother?” you noticed, and he nodded.
“Do you know her?” he wondered.
“Not well— but she and I— we met once or twice. I’m friends with her boyfriend, Jonathan— or, I guess, we were friends, before he moved… I dunno. Anyways,” you caught yourself oversharing, “nice to meet you.”
“I didn’t know you knew Will’s brother,” another one said, stuttering for a half-second when you looked at him. “I’m Lucas, by the way.”
“Yep, these are our new blood,” Eddie announced proudly as he stood behind the three boys. “The future of Hellfire.”
“Good to know you have lots of… impressionable children to spend your time with,” you said flatly.
“You, uh, probably don’t remember me—” another member said, but you were smiling at him before he finished.
“Jeff,” you nodded, “of course I do. You were the only one who could stay still for my pictures.”
His skin was too dark to show a blush, and yet you could tell he was anyways just by the way he smiled and glanced down. “O-oh, uh, yeah… that was a while ago.”
“Stuck with me,” you shrugged. “But you,” you turned your attention to the other one standing in the back, “you weren’t a member then, were you?”
“Uh, no,” he shook his head, “not yet. I’m Gareth.”
“Also known as Corroded Coffin’s metal-as-fuck rhythm guitarist and metal-as-fuck drummer,” Eddie added with a proud grin, “respectively.”
“Right,” you hummed, “I’m sure you’re… very, very loud.”
“We try to be,” Gareth shrugged.
“Okay, can we stop doing introductions now and get to playing?” Lucas groaned. “Please?”
They did; and you were going to hide in your room, you really were— you did, for the first ten minutes. But then you were hungry and decided to sneak something from the kitchen, especially without your mom around to judge you for the junk food.
That was the plan, but it went awry all too soon. You could hear them at the kitchen table, but they hadn’t spotted you; you stayed behind the wall in between, with only a view of Eddie’s shoulder and the corner of the table.
“I’ll… open the door,” Mike announced.
“No! Wait,” Jeff stopped him, “let me cast Find Traps first.”
“Good idea,” Dustin agreed.
“No traps,” Eddie told the table.
“Somehow, that feels ominous,” Lucas decided.
“Okay, I’m gonna open the door,” Mike insisted.
“You open the door,” Eddie informed him, “and behind the door waits… a troll!”
“Oh Jesus,” Jeff groaned.
“I knew it,” Lucas reminded everyone.
It took you a moment to realize that the slurred, deep voice you heard after that was actually Eddie’s troll impression as he spoke for it, and you covered your mouth to suppress a giggle at the ridiculous voice. You hopped up and sat on the counter, still obscured from the group’s view; there you stayed for the rest of the campaign, swinging your feet off the edge, trying your best to be discreet as you carefully snacked from a bag of chips, listening to Eddie and the club laugh and yell and roll dice like it was so much more than a dumb game.
You held your three-ring binder to your chest as you walked in step with Pete, laughing at his caricature-esque impression of Professor Bingen.
“Stop!” you snorted, pushing him on the shoulder. “He doesn’t sound like that!”
“He so does,” Pete insisted. “Today, uh, we’ll be discussing, uh, the, uh, human psyche, uhhh—”
“Come on,” you rolled your eyes, “that’s not fair— we talk about the human psyche every day.”
“Still,” Pete smirked, “he’s so boring. All of psychology is boring.”
“Then why did you even sign up for this class?” you wondered.
“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” he replied with a raised eyebrow. “That class is full of chicks!”
You sneered as you broke away from the eye contact— in the distance you spotted Eddie’s van, and he was outside of it, leaned against the passenger door. “Enrolling in a class just to meet girls,” you mumbled, “how romantic.”
“Hey, maybe it is,” Pete defended with an elbow to your side, “you don’t know— maybe I’ll meet Mrs. Right during one of those mind-numbingly boring lectures."
"I guess we'll see," you shrugged. "My ride's here, so I'll catch you later?"
"That's your ride?" he noticed, nodding towards Eddie. "Uh, he looks scary."
"He doesn't scare me," you rolled your eyes. Even without the tats and leather and other tough guy accoutrements, Eddie's uncharacteristic glare that he wore at the moment was contributing to the 'scary' persona. Who pissed in his cornflakes? you wondered.
"You, um…" Pete cleared his throat. "You hang out with guys like that?"
You looked at the classmate beside you, and realized by the look on his face what he meant. "Oh! No, he's my— he's my brother, I guess."
"Oh," Pete sighed. "That makes a little more sense. Still kind of terrified for him to see me with you, though, so, uh— catch you later?"
"Sure!" you agreed, waving, but he was already gone; he'd nearly left a cloud in the shape of his silhouette he ran so fast.
Deflating with a sigh, you approached Eddie where he was parked and waiting by the curb.
"'Sup?" you asked, but he said nothing, just opening the door for you and slamming it shut as soon as you were sat; he came around to the driver's side and you could definitely see that he was irritated, but you still didn't know why.
He broke the uncomfortable silence a few seconds after he started the van. “Who was that?” Eddie asked— already his tone put you off, and you moved your head back as you crinkled your brow.
“You mean Pete?” you replied, body lurching as Eddie began the drive with just a bit too much force. “He’s in my psychology class.”
“You two are, uh, friendly?” Eddie noticed, turning his head to change lanes and sending that hair spinning over his shoulders.
“Well, we have a project together,” you explained.
“And? Who is he?”
“He’s Pete,” you repeated.
“But like— what’s his deal?” Eddie pressed.
“Well, he’s single,” you sneered, “which you must be relieved to hear since you’re so obsessed with him.”
“Jesus,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “so now I can’t even ask about someone you’re talking to? I’m just curious, since, you know, you don’t have any friends.”
“Fuck off,” you spat.
“He’s probably trying to get you into bed, you know,” Eddie warned. “Just remember that.”
“He’s literally just trying to pass the class, as am I, Ed,” you denied.
“Nope! No way,” he shook his head, waving his hand quickly before putting it back on the steering wheel. “He only has one thing on his mind. And it’s not his fucking grades.”
“You would know,” you rolled your eyes.
“Exactly!” he yelped. “Men are disgusting. Don’t let that guy even think you’re interested in him, or he’s never gonna let it go. Also, you should probably have pepper spray in your backpack.”
“You know, to your credit,” you offered, sighing as you crossed your arms and looked out the window, “this is the first time I’ve really felt like I have a brother.”
His demeanor shifted suddenly, and he sounded way too proud of himself when he replied, “Really?”
You didn’t say anything, just puffing out a breath of air.
“Is that a bad thing?” he realized, deflating a bit.
“It is when it’s you!” you answered. “You’re trying to drive me crazy, right?”
He let out a little sigh. “Sometimes. And sometimes I just… I dunno.”
You looked at him to see him shaking his head. “What?” you wondered.
“Sometimes I’m actually just trying to protect you,” he admitted, catching your gaze for a moment, “believe it or not.”
Your question was just one word— an instinctive reaction, a first-thought-best-thought blurt. And in the Freudian tradition that you’d been learning about that very day, it said more than anything else could have.
You didn’t even look up from your lap where you were picking at one of your nails; it just sort of… came out.
“Why?” you asked him.
He didn’t look at you, he just smiled and glanced down for a second, before returning his focus to the road ahead.
Just then, saved by the chord, you heard an all-too-familiar tune start to play on the radio.
Josie’s on a vacation far away—
“Turn it up!” you demanded, as if you weren’t already reaching for the knob. “I love this song!”
“Of course you do,” he mumbled unenthusiastically.
“ —and talk it over,” you began to sing along emphatically, “so many things that I wanna say, you know I like my girls a little bit older—”
“How can you like this?” he glanced at you.
“Shut up, it’s good,” you shoved him on the shoulder. “I just wanna use your love, tonight—”
“This is horrible, I hate this,” Eddie informed you, and you turned to lean in closer to him as you sang confidently (if not too pitch-accurate).
“I don’t wanna lose your love, toniiiiight!”
You mimed the aggressive double-strike on the snare, beginning to drum all over the air as the song continued.
“I ain’t got many friends left to talk to, nowhere to run when I’m in trouble,” you continued, “you know I’d do anything for you—”
In the corner of your eye, you noticed Eddie looking at you, and you looked back at him as you grinned and kept singing.
“Stay the night but keep it undercover,” you added, and for some reason, you winked at him. He glanced away quickly.
You kept singing and dancing (as best you could while buckled into a passenger seat), swinging your head around wildly as the chorus played again. He watched you and laughed. “You know, it’s wasted on a song like this,” Eddie interjected, nearly yelling to be heard over the song, “but you do know how to headbang. You’d fit right in at a Corroded Coffin show.”
You stopped singing, because there weren’t words for the guitar solo anyways, and looked over at him. “Really? You should take me some time,” you decided, resting your arm on the console between you two.
“Yeah? I will,” he smiled, and you smiled back, and then you realized that you were pretty close to him— too close, maybe? But it didn’t feel too close, it felt… nice. It made your heart race, but you liked it anyway.
The interlude ended and the words picked back up again, but you weren’t singing along this time. You were too busy looking at Eddie’s eyes, because they were looking at your lips.
Try to stop my hands from shakin’, ‘cause something in my mind’s not makin’ sense…
Why was he looking at your lips? Why were you looking at his? Most of all, why did they look so… kissable?
Been a while since we were all alone, I can’t hide the way I’m feelin’...
It almost seemed like he was moving in closer— he wasn’t moving in closer, was he? He wasn’t about to kiss you, right? Oh god, he’s about to kiss you.
You knew you should stop him, you should put your hands on his shoulders and tell him that yes, you had thought about it too, but this can’t happen; you’re family, kind of. Well, not really, but… maybe too close to it?
You started to reach up to his shoulders, but you realized that if you touched him, you wouldn’t push him away— no, you’d pull him closer, you’d squeeze those strong shoulders, you’d tangle your fingers in that hair…
HOOOOOOOONK!
You and Eddie both screamed— briefly, but still embarrassingly high-pitched— as you looked back at the road and saw a truck speeding towards you in the oncoming lane… which the van had drifted into, of course. Eddie slammed the brakes and jerked the wheel quickly, which got you out of harm’s way but into the dirt on the side of the road; your hands grabbed at the first things they could find, which were your door on the right and his arm on your left.
Within a few seconds, the van came to a screeching halt and you and Eddie let out a simultaneous sigh.
You peeled your hand off of his arm, and he turned his head to the side with a blank— yet so expressive— look on his face.
Your Love was still playing. You reached forward and turned the radio off.
“That was fun,” Eddie announced breathlessly, “let’s have more near-death experiences together.”
