Acquired Taste // Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

Your bags were packed the same night. You'd gone home, packed the outfit you knew you'd need; one you were saving for an entirely different occasion but it seemed fitting. You'd changed out of Robin's pajamas as well, slipping on some comfortable black jeans and a white v-neck. In your closet, you'd been searching for a jacket when a glimmer in the back, stuffed against the floor in the corner, catches your eye.

Digging it out, you recognise it instantly. You hadn't even remembered hiding it back there after that night, and yet, like some sick poetic twist, Eddie's jacket had reminded you of its existence as it laid among the other bloodied rags.

Wearing his jacket while tearing his torso into ribbons? Well, now. That was far too delicious to give up.

So you slip it over your shoulders and stuff a fistful of your savings into the pockets before you head out, walking towards the bus stop in town that would take you to the city, where you could catch another to New York, where Corroded Coffin were due to perform tomorrow night.

As you're walking, the crisp night air sending a chill over dimpled flesh, you inhale a thick lungful of it. Your body remained in its full and ecstatic state, pure bliss pulsing through you and urging you to do what needed to be done. You thought about all the grotesque and maniacal things you had planned for the band, satisfied to your core that your vengeance would soon be yours to claim.

Beep!

A car honks at you, and you turn on your heel, recognising it in an instance. He pulls up beside you, leaning across the console to wind the passenger side window down so he could talk to you, looking just as fresh and clean and perfect as the first day you'd met him.

"Evenin', beautiful. Need a ride somewhere?"

"Stevie, baby. It's been a while." You comment, lips peeling back into a salacious grin as you lean down with your arms folded on the open window of the door. "Just heading to get a bus to the city. Can I get a ride to the stop?"

"Yeah, hop in." He waves you into the car and you pull back to open the door and get in, settling into the passenger seat with a low sigh. You didn't mind walking, but the company was far better this way. "What's taking you to the city at this hour?" He asks as he drives you, fingertips tapping on the steering wheel to the song that was playing. You didn't recognise it, some pop bullshit he was always obsessed with.

"Going to see a band." You weren't lying, though the ideas that flash across your mind to accompany the rest of what you were going to do make your heart thrum.

"One of those corny rock bands you love so much?" He snorts at your responding nod, teasing you though you knew he meant no malice behind it. "I could.. come with, if you want? There's a lot of weirdos in the city, I wouldn't want you getting hurt."

"Relax, Casanova. You hate rock music and we've barely talked since you took my virginity, we don't need to pretend you care about me." A brow rises at him, though the amusement was still clear on your features; something not returned on his as it drops into something entirely... God. It was sweet. Caring, almost. Gross.

"No-- I didn't mean anythin' by it. And- for the record, I do care about you. In my own way," He admits, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watches the road, trying his best to ignore the stare you were piercing into his side profile. "You were the one who didn't talk to me... Y'know, after... And we went our own ways but that doesn't mean I'd ever want you to get hurt."

Oh.

Your lack of response was deafening, brows furrowed in your bewilderment at him as he pulls up to the bus stop. The engine idles as he releases the wheel and turns to look at you, offering one of those charming grins that would have had you weak at the knees before.