A/N: Have a draft while I study for an exam. Can't write until after Thursday, must satisfy my "pleasure to have in class" itch by getting a good grade. Lil update.
He always grabs your hand when crossing the street. Or if you’re walking up to the crosswalk, he’ll grab your hand as if you’re about to run into oncoming traffic.
You used to get annoyed because you thought that’s what he was thinking. As if you weren’t aware you should stop and look both ways. But then you quickly realized he does it because he wants to feel in control in times of stress—even if it’s something as mundane as crossing the street. It could still be dangerous and he needs to be touching you at all times—just to be sure that you’re with him.
He’s the type of boyfriend to guide you in a crowd. He’ll cup his hand possessively on the back of your neck, gently guiding you in front of him, walking you through the crowd. This is his preferred method so he knows where you are at all times and he can make sure you two don’t get separated.
If he can’t push you to the front, he’ll take your hand and pull you behind him as he leads the way, dodging busy people and sweaty bodies. He doesn’t prefer just dragging you behind him because he doesn’t like not being able to see you or what may or may not be happening to you behind him. Like if some drunk guy gets in your way or somebody doesn’t see your connected hands and tries to cut through the two of you.
He’s also not a fan of having you behind him because he misses you, as silly as that sounds. He’s always aware of you and your whereabouts when you share the same space, but he likes to see you. He likes to walk with you, or have you in front. He doesn’t like the optics of you behind him either. He’d much prefer people see you as equals or even as you leading the way. After all, you do run his show. He’ll do anything for you.
The other option he likes is to hold onto the hem of your shirt as you walk in front of him, almost like a little leash to keep you near him. Not because you’re his pet or less than, but because you get a little flighty when you have a few too many. He likes to make sure he’s got his girl within his grasp, and he doesn’t want you to feel suffocated by him. It also helps for when you’re feeling overwhelmed and don’t want to be touched—he can still hold onto you, and you can still feel free.
He also loves to pat your butt.
He does it at least 7 times a day. When you get up from the booth, making to purchase the next round of drinks for him, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan, he’ll help you up before giving you his wallet and a soft double pat as you turn around to head to the bar. It’s like a silent ‘I love you’ or ‘I see you’.
He does it in the kitchen too, when you’re putting together dinner and he’s standing about, freshly home from work and listening to you talk about your day.
He slowly drags his quietly hungry gaze down your body as you mindlessly prattle on, stepping back and forth between the kitchen counters, preparing ingredients.
When you sidle up next to where he’s leaning, your eyes on the cutting board, gathering chopped vegetables to throw into the pot, he can’t help himself. You look so pretty, just like a little housewife—all for him. He lets his arms drop from their semi-permanent position crossed over his chest as he turns toward you, his side now leaning into the counter. His large palm slips down your body until it lands on the curve of your ass, giving you a firm two taps, but he won’t stop there.
You’re in the comfort of your own home—he doesn’t have to limit his affection. He lets his palm linger on your cheeks, kneading and giving a few harsh, groping squeezes, admiring your teasing smile and the way you don’t stop talking. He loves that he’s gotten you so used to his touch, his hands always wandering your body.
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You Missed
Pairing: Eddie Munson x You
Summary: Evil Woman tries to do something cute but kinda misses her mark and breaks Eddie's brain a little.
Contains: Eddie talking too much, close contact with The Goods™, two embarrassed/horny high school idiots.
Words: 300ish
You missed.
You've taken to leading Eddie around by his belt. He gets so into his nerdy little tangents in the morning, he'll stand there all day and talk shop with his little sheepies if you let him. But if you slide two fingers between his belt buckle and his jeans and give him a tug, the proximity of your hand to his junk is enough to distract him long enough to lead him away and get his ass to class.
But you missed.
Because he moved.
And his shirt rode up.
And your fingers went into his pants.
Between his boxers and a certain patch of hair.
You panicked internally, but pulled him along anyway, staring straight ahead while he trailed along behind you into the school.
Your face was on fire when you let him go.
"Good luck on your test," you mumble before trying to take off in the other direction.
Your backpack won't let you get far. He's grabbed the loop on top, and the only way to get away from him is to slip out of the straps digging into your shoulders, which you briefly consider. Just keep walkin'. But he uses that loop to tug you to him, just like you do to his belt every morning. So this is what that feels like.
You slowly turn, biting your lip as you look at him.
He hooks his arm around your neck and pulls you close so that he can whisper in your ear: "You really think I'm gonna be able to concentrate on anything now?"
His hot breath and low growl stirs something inside you.
"Pass this class, and we'll see where that leads you."
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The Little Air Conditioner That Could
Pairing: Eddie Munson x You
Summary: Eddie's girl is having a love affair with his air conditioner.
Contains: Heat, sweat, desperation, writer who's ready for fall.
Words: 400ish
You are not a summer person.
Spring, fine. Fall, nice. Winter, sure.
But summer? Fuck summer.
It was arguably the hottest day of the hottest month of the year, and Eddie was on the phone in the kitchen with one of his minions, explaining something nerdy in great detail.
You were left to entertain yourself alone in his room.
His hot, sweltering, unbearable room. You could practically see the heat waves radiating off his amp and stereo, an occurrence you usually only saw coming from cars and pavement baking in the sun.
You and Eddie were sporting matching buns, unable to stand the thought of your hair raising your body temperature by half a degree. All he wore were boxers. You'd stripped to your underwear, but chosen to keep your shirt on, in case Wayne came home early.
The poor little air conditioner in Eddie's window was doing its best, all the way on the other side of the room, but it wasn't enough.
Peeking through the door, you saw Eddie's bare shoulder still facing away from you, deep in conversation about something you had no intention of trying to understand. Good enough.
You moved the door just a little bit, to block what you were about to do.
Which was pull your sweaty shirt up and stand in front of the air conditioner.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
When you held your boobs up so that the cold air could hit that hot spot underneath, you were temped to kiss the battered old window unit. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, wishing you were small enough to crawl inside the amazing little air conditioner.
"Whaaat…"
Your eyes shot open, looking to your left, not leaving your perfect position. Eddie stands there, eyes wide and mouth open.
"Shut up," you warn.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
"You don't know that."
You shoot him a glare, and he responds with a wicked grin.
"I was only going to suggest that you let me hold those for you. It's my subpar cooling system that's put you in this compromising position. It's really the least I could do."
"Oh my God," you laugh, rolling your eyes toward the ceiling.
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greetings from an undisclosed eddie x shy!reader doc...
He took your hand in his and carefully brought it up to the nape of his neck. He helped you thread your fingers into his hair and encouraged you to grasp his curls firmly at the root. Your breathing hitched as his touch trailed over your knuckles and down your forearm to your elbow.
“Don’t be scared to hold on tight,” he burred, low in your ear. “I like it when it hurts a little.”
Your fingers flexed shakily as his hands settled on your hips, squeezing gently as he backed you up to the brick wall. It felt gritty and cold on your back, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.
Eddie’s hands squeezed again, sliding up a little higher to your waist.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he hummed, his gaze flitting anywhere it could at such close proximity. The curve of your cheeks, the edges of your jaw, the gentle and graceful lines of your neck.
His voice was so soft, so adoring, you felt your knees liquifying. You wanted nothing more than to believe him implicitly, but you couldn’t stop the little seed of doubt deep in your gut that quivered beneath the earth from peeking through the undergrowth until it had sprouted.
“Really?” you whispered, hating how mousey you sounded. How timid and unsure.
He brought up one of his hands to cradle the side of your face. Your eyes fluttered closed, leaning in to the warmth of his palm, interrupted only by the cool bite of his rings that dissipated quickly when they warmed to the temperature of your skin.
Still, you couldn’t help but shiver when your eyes opened to find Eddie’s gaze focused so intently on yours, squinting in a bemused sort of way.
“Do you honestly not know?” he asked you with a slow smile. “You really don’t see it?”
All you could do was shrug. You didn’t think you were, like, hideous or anything. But you had never been particularly impressed by your looks. And no one had ever looked at you or acted like you were some ethereal being who’d fallen to earth just to grace these mere mortals with your face.
