#ABI i fell over and wrote some fluff and soft lacy like some kind of FREAK!!!!!!!!!!!

[powderblueblood]

From your prompt list, for Eddie Munson, If it strikes anything in ya. 🖤🖤

" A woman falls in love with you and you think that's a curse?"

200 CIGARETTES SENTENCE PROMPTS! tripped and fell into hai verse sowwy!!!!!!!!!!!!!

eddie reacts in a way you think should be memorialized in history books, a full pantomime of his flailing hands, his rings catching the low light of the bar, his grimacing face with his tongue sticking out.

"blegh!" and, a lightning quick recovery to point at you directly in your face, "exactly. cursed."

you swirl your straw in your cranberry and whiskey which doesn't taste very much like either. you're helping drunk sam to prop up the bar at the hideout before the new year's rush starts; eddie had begged you to come keep him company, come keep him anchored because apparently shit gets weird here when the veil between this year and the next thins.

"you'll be a terrific anchor. all you have to do is sit there with that sour look on your face--exactly! that one!--and remind me that i'm not having a good time, no matter how many decrepit drunks tell me i am."

anyway, this is confusing. you knit your brow. "but why?"

"expectations!" eddie barks, fwipping a bar towel from his shoulder and grabbing a glass out of the drip tray to dry. "someone falls in love with me, right, and then i've got to like... keep them entertained. keep finding reasons to--..."

he trails off, mouth screwing up a little bit. hold on. hold on. there's something there. you try and reach for the thread before he tugs it out of your grasp. unraveling eddie munson's become an unlikely hobby as of late. he's like a ball of yarn someone let get tangled in a dump, so you keep finding all sorts of weird rocks and sticks and trash and ephemera every time you ask him a real question.

"hold on. what do you mean?"

"what do i mean what?"

"keep them entertained."

he sighs. really stepped in it now, because you're not a just drop it kinda girl, just like he's not a just drop it kinda guy. you two haven't read into that. might be worth cracking out the reading glasses, i don't know.

"i don't know!" eddie shrugs, "i'm-- you get someone to love you, and then you want them to keep doing it, right, so you need to like... it's a lot of pressure!"

"no. shut up," you wave your hand in his direction, "are you seriously trying to say that you think falling in love is a curse because you think you've got to perform a certain way to keep people interested? like no one--" you snort a little, tone going to the mocking zone, "--could ever love you for you?"

he puts his hands on his hips, partaking in your laughter a little too. but it's strained. "i don't need to take this from someone who hid a brain the size of a planetary moon behind a can of aquanet for the better part of her high school career so some haircuts would give her the eye, okay? you know aaaaall about performing."

eddie knows he has you nailed so you throw your straw at him. fucker.

"those come out of my paycheck, jackass."

"sorry for bankrupting you," you say, not done. "but eddie. c'mon."

"i'll come on anything you want me to."

"seriously."

"seriously, i will."

"no-- like, you can't possibly expect me to believe you think you're unlovable." you press your forearms into the bartop (ew, sticky) like level with me here.

eddie flings his bar towel around his neck, tugging at either end hard. "i'unno."

"unlikable, sure, you're the most irritating person i've ever met but--"

"--but i don't have the best track record for getting people to stick around." he lifts his shoulders, like it's nothing, like whatever. he's even smiling. pleading, in a way. drop it, for once.

no. anger bursts under your sternum like a tiny firework.

"so?"

eddie double takes, something like fear or frustration flashing in his dark eyes. they're only made darker by the shitty backlight of the bar. makes him look older, which makes you feel weirder. "so?"

"so none of that was on you." you say. like it's nothing. sipping your drink. "none of that was your fault."

eddie's eyes drop from yours. he stares at the sticky bartop.

"and you're never pretending. at least, i've never seen you pretend."

there is no act of anti-god, no dastardly intervention that will let you stop yourself from speaking. this is what you get for sitting around the hideout at six in the evening on new year's eve.

"you've always been horribly yourself to me and i still... can't stand you." a beat. because you're waiting for eddie to look back up under the glower of his brow. his mouth is kind of a snarl, kind of a smile. "so don't treat it like a curse when it isn't, asshole. don't jump ahead in the story."

don't jump ahead. he says it all the time, talking about dnd, talking about some dumb anecdote, talking about music. don't jump ahead in the story.

he looks at you like, you remembered, and pulls a bottle of no-name brand tequila and two shot glasses from behind him.

you shrug at him like, you're around, and have to get up and do a walking lap of the bar after that shot. disgusting!

#powder room talk #fracturedarkness #e. munson by powder #blurbs #hai brainrot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #ABI i fell over and wrote some fluff and soft lacy like some kind of FREAK!!!!!!!!!!! #thank u so much <333333