A/N: So jokes on me because I didn’t expect to love Eddie Munson this much. @allaboardthereadingrailroad told me he was going to be the it girl of this season and I said absolutely not.
Warnings: Smut, lots of it. Drug use. Judgemental teenage girls
Parings: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader
Summary: Eddie invites you to his show, and holy shit. You show up.
“Remind me why the hell were here again?”
You’d never been to The Hideout, a shitty hole in the wall off the highway outside of town. You’ve driven by it like, a thousand times and never once had the urge to go inside. Now, as you stand next to your friend, Shelly’s, mom’s Subaru in the half empty parking lot your nerves are going haywire, over eager to walk through the doors.
“Because, we were invited” you answer simply. Duh. Sweeping more glittery lip gloss on and fluffing your hair before adding “plus it’s not like we had anything else to do”
a/n:i’m back! heyyy sorry it’s not animanga content! if you want to interact w/ me or watch me cry over eddie, my sideblog is @sl4sherfilmz!not proofread
additional tags: very very light (and unintentional) sexual tension, hurt/comfort, panic attacks (brief), kissing, hand-holding, gender neutral reader (black-coded though)
It’s a quarter past twelve, and you and Eddie rest in the safety of each other’s arms. Your fingers are laced together, palm to palm, and only then, your skin remains the same shade. The lines adorning your palms are fitted, locked together like a complex puzzle — like the unsolved rubix cube lost somewhere deep inside Eddie’s bedside drawers. You remember scavenging through them like it was yesterday. His scent clinging to the trailer carpet, his warm blanket, the guitar he kept attached to his wall (he’d flirt with it more than he’d ever had with you). The recoil of his curls as you play with his hair, bouncing back into place as if you never touched it in the first place. Bunched up napkins and ripped joint paper left discarded, notepads of incomplete thoughts— or were they lyrics? — disregarded. Despite the stark differences, his home wasn’t as divergent as your own.
You had only realized much earlier.
Eddie’s silhouette was undeniably his, tucked away in the corner of your bed, terror etched into his features, laid bare and vulnerable as his white, muddied shoes dug into your bedsheets. Your face briefly contorted, sour, as you gingerly lifted his legs, one by one, to pry off his shoes. His breath trembles, moonlight seeping through the slightly drawn curtains — you’d let him inside discreetly, after all. And perhaps you felt ashamed for thinking it, but the natural light kissing his face made him ten times more beautiful.
“Eddie,” You murmured, voice laced with patience and heavy with thought. His response was delayed, a wordless shake of his head as his cotton socks dampened with unlaundered mud. Hickory eyes flickered across the expanse of your bedroom, anxiously settling on the worried expression bewitching your face. “I believe you— whatever it is. I believe you, okay? What happened?”
“I’m not crazy,” He started, hands shooting up in self defense. Dread coursed through your bloodstream, half-expectant to hear his own interjection, a raised finger and wide smile as he yells, ‘Well, I kind of am.. But I guess that’s what you like about me.’ But, unfortunately, that wasn’t what you received. He inhaled sharply, as if all the air in the room was evaporating before his eyes. “I swear— I’m not… Her body— Chrissy,she just… like, lifted, y’know? Into the air and, uh—”
Eddie whimpered, occupying himself with the rings that suddenly felt much too tight for his fingers, like they’d snap the bone clean off, like the joints would bend just as Chrissy’s had before. Silence filled the air, a secret exchange between the two of you as Eddie hugged himself, swallowing the lump in his throat.
You wanted to— no, yearned to hold him, feel his chest rise and fall as he breathed— as you breathed. To remind him of his life, the life he has ahead of him. To absorb your scent, to break down and press himself into the comforting heat of your body. To confide in your judgement, your presence. Even just a little, just for now.
Maybe it was embarrassing, shameful, even, to feel your heart somersault into your throat as he spoke to you. You couldn’t help it, nodding along and consoling his cries— your chest tightened for more reasons than one. And Eddie, eyes red-rimmed and raw, couldn’t quite register his voice as his own. It was all drowned out, buzzing in his ears like the cicadas outside your window. His heart hammered in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage as he watched your impassioned expression.
After readjusting your position, you placed your hand over his heart and breathed deeply. It hammered into your palm, erratic and rushed until the man was able to follow your lead. His shoulders rose slowly, and with each passing second, the longer he soaked in your presence, the more he felt his apprehension dissipate into the nightly air.
“I… I believe you,” You whispered, falling silent on ears other than his and your own. Color slowly returned to the brunet’s cheeks, his eyelashes were long, dark and damp as he sniffled. For a moment, it’s unbelievable— unearthly. The thought of such a thing just happening, something you can’t really fathom or put into words. The shock of acknowledging the death of someone you’d once known, even if you weren’t close.
You could only imagine how Eddie felt.
Your core trembled as you subconsciously shuffled closer to Eddie. This time, his hands remained planted in his lap. Firmer this time, you cleared your throat. “Really, I do.”
He took a moment to really look at you now, now that the air was forced back into his lungs. Now that his senses are flooding back. He could smell your bare scent, warm and comforting. His lips twinged with the salt of unshed tears, his fingertips brushed against denim, seeking a warm hand to hold. The gentle moonlight caressed his cheeks, leaked into the loose spirals of curls that cascaded down his back. It trickled onto you, so delicate and forgiving despite the harsh realities that keep his footing unsteady. You’re stunning. Unequivocally, downright, stunning. Tonight, that was one thing he’s sure of.
It’s almost unfair.
Awkwardly, cool rings pressed into your arm as he drove a gentle punch to your shoulder. The cold metal spread goosebumps across your skin, Eddie’s knuckles brushing against each raised bump. His smile was watery, but no longer drowned and insincere, “Sorry, that was pretty stupid.”
“Shut up,” You scoffed, molding your hand into a fist just as he had, pressing your bare skin against the black leather encased around his arm. He dramatically flailed at the gentle gesture, laugh lines pulling at his cheeks as he threw himself off your bed. Swallowing a hearty laugh, your eyebrows furrowed. “How is that stupid?”
Sensing the unresolved tension, Eddie holds up his hands in surrender, swiveling his hips in your relative direction. Picking himself back up to lay beside you, his dark eyes narrowed into lazy slits as he looked up at you, concealed exhaustion on his face. Your hands are dangerously close now, barely an inch separating your pinkies. Your left hand sits beside the right-side of his head, and Eddie closely watches you through his curls. Your warmth is radiant, drawing his palm closer and closer.
“Well, aren’t you up close and personal,” The corner of his lips curl upward, a mischievous and giddy glint cascading over the sharp edge of his pearly, canine teeth. His eyes trail down your face, studying your nose, your cheeks— how soft your lips look. “I can basically count your eyelashes right now. ”
“Shutup,Munson.”You repeat, reminiscent of a broken record, only breathless and hushed this time. Your breath pans against his face, lips briefly parted to wet them. Suddenly, the air feels much more dry.
“This is gonna sound…strange.. but,” Eddie’s lips, plump and pink, tighten into a line as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Butterflies flutter in his stomach, catching in his throat while he struggles to gather correct words. “Can I.. Your hand looks very hold-able right now. Wow, is it always like that?”
“Like what?” You bark out a laugh, a genuine and large smile pulling at your cheeks. You take the opportunity to interlock your pinkies, electricity and stardust shocking your entire nervous system. Eddie briefly pauses, wide eyes sparkling just like they had on your first date— maybe this was the brightest you’ve ever seen them. His hands are calloused yet soft, rings on three of his fingers that distract you from the sweat on his palms.
Not that you particularly mind.
“Really soft, apparently.” His thumb rubs untraceable patterns into your skin, and it feels like you’ve fallen for him all over again. You can hear him further whisper, seemingly entranced in the softness of your skin: “Wow! That’s crazy..”
“Eddie.” His train of thought is lost, stuck between a rock and a hard place as his glassy eyes bore into yours. He blinks once, twice, three times, before nodding along, lips pursed together as he hums:
“Hm?”
“I think we’re way past holding hands.” But even then, as you lean over to gently press your plush lips against his own, your hands remain fitted. Palm to palm, where your skin remains the same, his pulse beats violently when your lips crash together. It feels like home, like a freshly dried blanket. It feels like cherries in the spring, like breathing for the first time.
