》eddie munson one shots《 || f!reader/nb!reader

☆ 'more than friends' // f!reader

The air was thick with warmth, despite the windows being fully open-the burning on the surface of your flesh evident. That strange tingling sensation keeps appearing against your scalp, thinking it was just the heat making you feel this way, or a breeze or so, though the slight tug at your hair makes you think otherwise.

But you didn't take much mind to it, as your eyes stuck straight forward, staring at that tiny screen of Eddie's T.V. It became a regular thing, watching a movie every week or two. You'd always wait until the newest movies were available on rental, only because he couldn't really afford to go to the cinema every single weekend.

You sat on the floor, your knees high, back pressed again the front of the chair, Eddie's legs beside your frame, in your peripheral vision, you'd sometimes notice his digits digging into his jeans, or a palm running down his thigh. You weren't a big fan of the couch, and it seemed that a simple pillow on the floor is a thousand times better.

You felt it again, yet this time digging into your head. You're surprised it took this long to realise that it was never the wind.

"Eddie! Leave my hair alone. I take pride in my locks." You groan, tilting your head back, your skull hitting the cushion of the armchair, only centremetres away from his crotch.

He laughed, gripping the sides of your head just to annoy you, a feeling of cold metal sending a contrasting sensation over your face. "Oh, yeah? When's the last time you brushed it?"

You're hoping he doesn't see your face turn bright red, could be because of how he's holding you, or it could simply be the blood rushing to your head at this angle. Or it could be how he looks from your point of view.

You shoo away your thoughts, scoffing to maintain your previous demeanor. "Not that long ago. Ever considered that it looks messy because of you? Hm?" You tease.

"I'd like to consider it." He let go of your face, his digits slowly retracting from the small dents he had made in your cheeks.

Your head stays there though. Weirdly enough, he looks good from this view. Despite the fact you're looking at him upside down. It makes you realise that maybe he would look good at any angle.

You'd been friends for a while. Years, even. He was always there for you. He'd even ditch band practice if your remotely sad. Which says a lot, to be honest. That man is attached to his guitar.

It was only recently when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him, and since then it became a regular thing. A routine. But ever since that question of asking you out, you thought that something must've changed. It's just the two of you. Every week. Alone.

Yet it seemed that it was only for the movie, and the movie alone, but with the way he's acting... yeah. You could beg to differ.

You stare at his brown eyes, the tiniest beam of sunset shining into the reflection of his iris, magnifying the coffee colour. You glance at his curly hair, a few strands falling beyond his eyes. He returns the favour, his vision locking onto yours-only for a few seconds.

"C'mon, we're missing the movie." He smiled, forcing your head back up, accidently squeezing your shoulders with his knees.

But Eddie couldn't even look at the film anymore. That massive box in front of him became a blur, his eyesight focusing on your hair. He doesn't know what has gotten over him. But he'd watch as your body goes limp when he squashes your frame with his legs again, his heart contracting.

He'd scratch and bite away at his black nail polish to distract himself. You're friends, Eddie-the phrase would repeat in his mind over an over as the music and sound of the movie turns into mush in his ears.