Work Text:
Eddie hated his soulmark. Absolutely fucking despised the piece of shit.
Eddie was written across his clavicle, in cursive too immaculate to be bestowed upon his body. It was odd, how the letters looped so delicately and so strangely. He’s never met anyone with even the lick of the same handwriting.
Ever since he was born, the lettering stayed the same. Usually, the handwriting changed depending on how your soulmate themselves grew into better handwriting. While everyone else in grade school had sloppy ugly scribbles on their shoulders, hands, wrist, whatever, Eddie’s mark never once changed. That means they must be fucking old as shit.
He expected that he’d never meet his soulmate, that they’d die in a nursing home, with drool dripping from their mouth, but surprisingly, at 32, his soulmate was still kicking it somewhere.
It didn’t really matter anyway. Like Eddie would want to meet the old bat that is his soulmate. Like finding your soulmate was even common in this day and age.
Not even Anne, perfect and beautiful and sharp as a tack Anne, has found her soulmate. Neither of them really cared though. They loved each other, thank you very much.
But then Eddie moved to San Fransico, and then fucking fucked up his chances with the love of his life, and then got fired from his job, and then ended up living in a decrepit apartment with a loud fucking guitarist neighbor who he despised, becoming a fucking loser in one fell swoop.
So there he was, half a year later, groveling in a shitty ass bar with the worst beer, watching his favorite cashier get robbed, doing nothing about it, listening to his shitty neighbor play his shitty guitar in his shitty apartment that had shitty ass walls. His life was so...shitty.
And then, that scientist. Dr. Dora Skirth, with her business card and terrible stalking, begging for his help. His help. Eddie would have laughed in her face if she didn’t look so miserable.
And maybe that misery resonated with him, because next thing Eddie knew, he was at Anne’s apartment, staring up, watching her stupid cat. And then Anne came home, with her new fucking boyfriend or whatever, and Eddie wanted to die.
“He’s my soulmate,” she had hissed to him, eyes narrowed, closed off. Eddie wanted to laugh again. Of fucking course, Anne would find her soulmate, and of course, it would be some hot shot doctor who wouldn’t betray her in a lifetime and had so much security in their relationship that he just let Eddie, her ex, speak to her, alone. God and Eddie knew that Dan Whatever was good for her, better than Eddie by a mile, but still. It hurt.
Eddie doesn’t even really know what changes his mind. Maybe it was remembering Skirth’s fucking sad eyes, or maybe it was her spiel about how Drake was actually killing people, or maybe it was seeing Anne again and realizing that he isn’t shit, after all. Whatever. He calls, and that’s all that matters.
Maria is there, trapped in some prison, screaming for help. Eddie, in his panic, triggered the alarm. Well, whatever. He breaks the glass and then Maria is on him, and they’re crashing onto the floor, and the pain in his back doesn’t stop the feeling of his veins feeling fuller all of sudden, like something other than blood, is flowing through his body.
Maria’s dead. He runs. Does some shit he knows he can’t do. Climbs a really, really high tree really, really fast.
Going home is painful. He barely remembers how he got to his apartment. It’s all hazy. All he hears is his heartbeat. All he feels is hunger.
And before he knows it, he’s puking his guts out. Fucking tater tot and old ass chicken sludge spews out his mouth.
“God, what the fuck is wrong with me,” he says, and he goes to brushes his teeth, hears his name,
Eddie,
in a voice that’s way too deep to be a human’s, and then his face goes fuck you Eddie and it morphs into this thing and Eddie shrieks, jumping back, falling unconscious.
-
The Voice is back, moaning and groaning over the hunger. Eddie feels it too, but he ignores it in favor of thinking he was going insane.
Anne and her soulmate boyfriend were at the restaurant, and Eddie tried to explain his story, find help, something but all he could think of is all the tantalizing food around him. In one moment, he was there, had control of his limbs and everything, he promises, but then the next moment, his hand was reaching for a dinner plate, snatching off the meat. And then he spoke, but it wasn’t him speaking, hissing out that’s dead, dead. It was like he was forced to the backseat, watching through his own eyes as his body moved on its own, shoving people aside, shooing away Anne and Dan.
He ended up in the tank, biting off the head of a lobster, trying to understand what Dan the Doctor was saying.
-
Eddie has been in an MRI machine once before. He had gotten a concussion while playing football in high school. It didn’t feel like...that. Like something was being separated from his very soul; like he was about to be split in two. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on anymore, but he didn’t want to feel that ever again.
-
He was insane, Eddie realized as he argued with the parasite in his body. Fucking insane. Auditory hallucinations, Dan the soulmate had informed. Fuck. Insanity. What has happened to his shitty ass life?
Apparently, it turned into a bad action film, Eddie thought when he opened the door, a swarm of bad guys in all black swarming into his apartment, waving around some weapon that was a shocking blue menacingly and Eddie was no way in hell messing around with them.
Apparently, the parasite thought otherwise.
Eddie was thoroughly freaked when his body just decided to one hundred percent go on autopilot. He wanted to shriek when he saw his hand shoot something black and thick out of his body. And then continued to do it. And then his body was doing shit it shouldn’t be able to do as 32 fucking year old who lived off of beer and tater tots. The fucking-whatever taking over his body like Eddie was just a puppet. Maybe he was, to whatever this thing was.
And the thing was...something else. Gnarly, he thought, like a true Californian surfer dude from the 90s, seeing his not-reflection in the car window. Putting a face to the black tar that shot from his body and the voice in his head was kind of nice, even though the teeth were kind of frightening.
Whatever, it (he?) had saved his skin in the end. And he might admit that the whole chase was kind of fun, especially the parts where the strange black stuff protected him better than even the most lethal bodyguard ever could. And to be assured that he wasn’t going to die by that silky smooth voice was fucking something else.
But then he turned his head like a dumbass and crashed, and he wondered if this is some fucking payback. If that thing could think, hear, and see faster and better than Eddie, why the fuck didn’t it protect him.
God, his leg was broken. Maybe his ribs too. Definitely a couple fingers.
And then they just weren’t, and Eddie was rising up, higher and higher and then a smooth sensation covered his entire being, and it was like a cool blanket was surrounding him. He watched through eyes that weren’t his and realized belatedly that this fucking thing just ate a person’s head.
Eddie didn’t really want to admit that it kind of tasted not terrible.
And then he was submerged into water, still protected by the sheath of darkness. And then just as fast he was spat out of the water, and he felt the darkness recede back into his pores quickly, leaving no trace, only a shivering Eddie.
And then the thing decided to finally talk, face to face, because next thing Eddie knew, he was having a conversation with his parasite, who called himself Venom, and who spoke of world domination and the fact that Eddie was his and that Eddie may survive or some shit. Whatever, that could wait. He didn’t get into all this trouble just to get a cold and have an alien symbiote or whatever as a passenger and sometimes driver in his body. He had to deliver those pictures.
-
Alright, maybe Venom was kind of cool. Towering up that building left Eddie breathless, even if he wasn’t the one doing the heavy lifting. The height kind of left Eddie queasy, but Venom had saved him too many times to count in the last two hours, the least Eddie could do was trust him a bit.
But then an airplane roared behind them, and Venom shook painfully, jumping back into Eddie’s skin, and then Eddie was falling, panic seizing his heart. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was going to die. He was going to die and Venom was going to go splat along with Eddie and why the fuck was he worrying about that fucking parasite-
Eddie felt a snag and his body stopped its tumble. Eddie looked up and his hand was transformed into much bigger claws, embedded into the concrete.
I’ve got us, Venom promised, and fuck, Eddie thought that was kind of heartwarming and hot as fuck. Shit.
-
Having Venom in control was...exhilarating. Hiding behind the scenes, watching this fucking monster rip into humans like butter was amazing to watch. The feeling of excitement thrumming back and forth was even a better feeling.
And then Venom tried to go and eat another human, and Eddie snapped out of it, berating this fucking stupid alien who thinks humans taste good, and then Anne is there, screaming in terror, and Eddie felt a deep shock of fear of his own.
He was in too deep, he realized, watching Anne waver in front of him, so much fear in her eyes he almost couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t okay. Killing police officers was not okay. Killing anyone is not okay. Venom was like a drug, and he was so scared. Scared of what Venom could end up getting him to do. Scared of what he would do for Venom.
-
Having Venom ripped away from him was agonizing. The screech of the MRI, the screech Venom made, it was too much. And then just when it started, it was over, Venom fleeing his body, both falling apart from each other.
Eddie picked himself up off the floor, heart beating erratically. Venom was a pile of black sludge, wriggling along the floor. Eddie almost jumped back when he slammed himself along the glass door, thumping insistently. Eddie ignored the silence in his head, ignored the way his very soul seemed wiggle under his skin, trying to get back to Venom.
He had to remind himself. Venom was killing him (he said he wouldn’t though, said he’d fix us). He had to get out of there, because the more he looked at the helpless bare Symbiote of his fucking whatever, the more his resolve trembled, the better the idea of letting Venom crawl back into his body, where he belonged.
Eddie ran.
-
Eddie wanted to thank his luck, really. Thank it for thrusting this confusing, exhilarating not E.T alien upon him, and then having those goons take him the moment Venom was out of his body.
It was shitty luck after all. Being brought back to the Life Foundation building, speaking to Drake, getting a look of the ugly ass symbiote that made his home in Drake, and then almost getting taken out.
Seeing Venom wrapped around Anne was... kind of disturbing. And then Venom went and kissed him, and Eddie kind of went with it, partly because it was Anne, but mostly because feeling Venom seep back into him felt better than any kiss could deliver. Though, having his mouth swallowed up by Venom’s was pretty fucking amazing too, though Eddie would never admit that out loud.
Eddie felt the Symbiote squirm back into his home, before slinking out again and wrapping up and around Eddie, and Eddie couldn’t believe the fact that he actually missed the feeling. God, what was wrong with him.
-
Leaving Anne in the woods only mildly crossed his mind before Venom asked,
Who is your soulmate?
Eddie kind of spluttered on spot in shock. What the fuck?
“Why do you want to know?” Eddie asked, instead of asking what the hell he and Anne did together.
Anne and Dan are soulmates. Who is yours?
Eddie sighed, before speaking, “I don’t know. I’ve never met them. I don’t think I want to.”
I can be your soulmate.
Eddie almost snorted, but Venom sounded completely genuine. “You don’t pick your soulmates, buddy. They’re predestined or whatever. They’re supposed to be your best match.”
You’re my most compatible host. I make your life less boring. We met on random chances. Perhaps we are predestined.
Eddie flushed at the thought. Why the fuck were they having this conversation.
The first thing I said to you is what is on your collar.
“Oh my God,” Eddie screeched, hands clinging to his neck, hands enclosing around his mark. Venom laughed.
Is that enough evidence?
“Where’s your soulmate, huh?” Eddie retorted.
We don’t have soulmates. There is no time for such frivolous things. But, for you, I think I can make an exception.
“You want to take over my planet. Why would you want to be my soulmate?”
Earth has grown on me. So have you.
Eddie didn’t really know how to respond to that nugget of information.
-
Falling into the ice cold water didn’t faze Eddie. All he could think about was the sharp pain in his abdomen, Venom encircling his arm, healing him like it was nothing, sacrificing himself.
Eddie only began to hyperventilate when he was safe on land because Venom died for him, and this Earth, but also for him, and fuck no Eddie was not going to go and drown himself.
His heart seized in on itself, like the opposite of what happened to the Grinch, shriveling up in despair. His lungs screamed for air, but the more oxygen he sucked in, the worse it got. His eyes burned from the smoke and fire, and he blamed that for the tears that fell.
He tried his hardest to ignore the sick feeling of his soul howling.
God fucking damn, Eddie thought between the wheezes, I’ve gone and found my fucking soulmate and he died on me. What an asshole.
-
Eddie would never admit the fact that feeling so sane and normal felt so wrong. He got his job back, got a less shitty apartment, and got a more money in his bank account.
He gave to every homeless person he saw, whatever he had with him. It helped the guilt.
He had dinner with Anne and Dan every Wednesday, and he tried to make it as casual as possible. He knew they were taking pity on him. Then again, his parasite was gone, so cause for celebration right?
His body felt heavy, but he knew it was the same as it was before Venom. But, without his supernatural alien buddy, he actually felt 32 again, which fucking sucked. Aches and pains.
His apartment was okay. His new neighbor was an old lady who had baked him cookies the first day he moved in so that was a plus.
His mind felt empty, quiet with just his thoughts. Sometimes he spoke, expecting an answer, and then feeling fucking abysmal when nothing answered back.
Fuck, how could a fucking parasite ruin him in just two measly days? God, what was wrong with him?
Along with the dinners, Anne tried to fix whatever friendship she could salvage. Eddie thought that it was more pity. His last friend was burned to bits, after all.
And then he was back, laying down a promise of how Anne would be theirs, as if Anne could even hear him. As if either of them really wanted Anne like that.
Eddie was confused as all hell, and kind of angry at the fact that Venom probably saw him cry on more than one occasion over him, but the most he felt was pure delight. He was back.
Hello, soulmate.
Eddie grinned terribly, letting the smooth velvet voice wash over him, his mood already feeling lighter each step.
“Hello, Venom,” he hummed.
Maybe it was fucked up, but Eddie was kind of thrilled about the fact that Venom was maybe/probably/most definitely his soulmate.
His collarbone burned at the thought.