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urlocalnctstan · 10 months

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His Assistant

Dom!Tony Stark x sub!fem!Reader

Word count: 4.5K

You could probably guess all the nasty thoughts behind that overly polite smile and charming façade. It was embarrassing, the image of you always haunting the front of his brain, and how he schemed nearly every day different ways to get a reaction from you or to get you close. He loved the way he could get you flustered when he purposefully let you catch him shirtless or when he occasionally guided you through a crowded building with a hand on your back or on your arm; or how tense you got when he brushed against you and he could hear your breath hitch; how supportive you were of him when he was having a bad day, and how he wished that sweet smile on your lips was pressed to his cheek instead.

Or wrapped around his cock, just to help him feel a little extra better.

After a couple of years of such tortuous feelings and playful chasing, saying he was starting to get antsy was an understatement. He almost felt silly about how quickly that spark of arousal would pluck at his spine when you walked into the room, and how he subtly tried to keep you around for more conversation even when he didn't need anything else and it was time for you to leave. He was a grown man and your boss, so he should have some better self-control! He doesn't even get this hot and bothered when he's actively reeling in a night's lay!

No, it didn't start out like this. He was actually very professional at first! Well... there was a reason other than friendliness when he so quickly asked you to just call him by his name and not by 'Mr. Stark' (though chaos still internally ensued when you gave him an obedient yes, sir). Sure, he thought you were pretty and had a thought or two about what it might be like to have you under him, but he did that to everyone he met! He's naturally a flirtatious person without even intending for it to go anywhere, so it wasn't long before he succumbed to his amorous nature. You'd probably just shut him down anyway or get a bit flustered, he figured.

What he wasn't expecting was for you to bite back, and things just sort of snowballed from there. Maybe it was simple fun at first, but he was pretty sure that the playful glint in your eye was anything but innocent fun.

What made it even worse was that you just doing your job was enough to get him excited. You were his good, obedient little assistant who did whatever he asked, and you always did it good just for him. That was literally just your job that you did almost every single day, and it drove him up the wall. However, you weren't always so compliant, and sometimes that was a good thing! You did help keep him out of trouble here and there, but while he enjoyed you looking out for him, he also couldn't stand it! He always wants his way anyway, but you were telling him 'no'?

It's fine! It's your job, remember?

But it never stops him from trying to persuade you. A rush of power when you look away with a sigh and reluctantly agree, the burn of a challenge in his chest when you oh-so-calmly hold your ground. The game is exciting when he doesn't know which he's going to get each day, but frustrating that he doesn't get to reward you for it.

Or put you in your place.

Though one lucky day for him (and for you), the usual pushback was a little too hard and far too inviting.

Holding a stack of papers against your chest and rushing around that busy morning, you weren't pleased to find your troublesome boss lounging around at his desk with a shockingly business-related magazine. With your free hand, you gently tugged the periodical from his hands.

"I was reading that, you know," Tony quipped before eyeing you up and down.

"You can catch up on your reading later," you rebuked, laying his light reading to the side and resting that rather hefty stack of, uh- legal documents in front of him. His attention never strayed as he watched you organize through yesterday's papers. "You-"

"Is that a new dress?" He interrupted you with the obviously more important thing occupying his mind. You finally turned to him with a sigh. Nothing but innocent interest stared back at you with the end of a pen smooshing at his bottom lip; and now that you had a good look, the tie that normally hung around his neck was undone and gracing around his shoulders with a button or two undone for added comfort. You tried not to stare.

"It is, and it's not for you," you managed to tease before returning to your previous work without a second glance. Your lack of attention dampened his spirits.

"Then who's it for?" There was genuine confusion in his voice, a furrow of his brow. You didn't have a date, did you? Who could possibly be better than him? Your answer was actually more terrifying.

"The shareholder meeting you have in an hour," you informed him with an almost mocking cheeriness before turning to him for a moment. "Wanted to look nice."

Tony stared at you, that cool and collected facade barely faltering aside from the obvious oh shit behind his eyes. It was the same time every year, twice a year. Yes, you've been reminding him almost every day for the past month. It was mostly you that did all the hard work anyway; all he had to do was show up and look pretty and (hopefully) already know most of what was on those graphs and in those surveys. You turned back to what you were doing when he opened his mouth, already knowing what to expect.

"Can you tell them I'm sick?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No," you said a little sternly, patience wearing thin and still needing to set up the conference room.

"But you do so much for me," he continued his plea, trying to sweet-talk his way out of it.

"I let you get away with too much is what I do."

"Then what's one meeting?" He was standing beside you now, facing you with one hand planted on the desk and another hovering at your elbow.

"One very important meeting," you said, distracted now, realizing that all those papers you had him sign yesterday were very out of order.

"You can't talk your way out of this one," you interrupted him before he had another chance to talk. He looked at you like a hurt puppy.

"I can't even try?"

"Tony-"

"Come on," he took a smoother tone now, and you could already picture that soft smile gracing his lips as you felt a gentle touch to your elbow. You turned to him again, noticing that quick pull of a smirk that knew he was winning now that he'd garnered your attention. Well, thought he was winning.

"Even you don't get paid enough to deal with your angry shareholders." Your semi-serious joke was met with an amused huff. That hand on the desk mirrored the one on your forearm.

"Then I can make sure you're well compensated,"

You looked away, trying to control the grin spreading across your cheeks, as well as the blush when he seemed to lean in ever so slightly at your reaction.

"As big as your compensation might be," you started, pausing to fix an undone button or two before working on that burgundy tie. You could feel that hard stare as you ran your hand down the silky material, keeping it flat against him and plucking that gold fastener from the pocket of his shirt. "My job is to keep you in line," you finished quietly. You looked back up at him as you pinned his tie to his shirt, feeling his abs gently twitch under your palm. He glanced down at your hand still pressed into him. His jaw wasn't the only thing getting tight.

"Is that the only thing in your job description?" He tried to spur you on, that soft smile gone when those brown eyes flicked back to yours with an alluring invitation.

"It won't even take that long," you reasoned, directing him back to the matter at hand as if you hadn't just started a fire. He finally sighed, looking away and head rolling to the side in physical reluctance. As much as he tried to sway you with his touch (and sometimes it worked), he could never resist yours.

"Okay," he muttered, backing down and returning to his seat, probably upset that you weren't playing with him. In a way, it was disappointing, but today wasn't a good day to waste time fooling around.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No," he said bluntly, propped up with a hand on his cheek and no doubt pouting.

"Okay," you replied quietly. Admittedly, you did feel a little bad, giving him one last apologetic smile that he didn't even see and taking those papers into your arms. "I'll go finish setting up." He nodded, only looking your way once your back was turned and already heading out the door.

You left. Without even stroking his victim card! And so nonchalantly after touching him more than you ever have before and looking up at him in that way that had his imagination running-

He huffed in frustration, but no one was around to hear it. And now he had about thirty-five minutes to mentally prepare for a meeting with people he barely even liked!

So when he finally decided it was time to show up, there you were: smiling with said people, gracefully faking laughs, and he knew you were being eyed the wrong way. Whatever the guy next to him was talking about, Tony wasn't listening. Instead, watching your every move while some other asshole put a hand in the same place he had earlier to get your attention. He couldn't explain the burn in his chest seeing someone else touching you, and you were letting them! Listening so attentively and getting what they asked for and- he couldn't take it!

He needed to remind you who you belonged to, or maybe he needed to reassure himself. He saw his window of opportunity when you gathered up an unused stack of papers and hurriedly left to what he hoped was his office. He slipped away, mere minutes away from doing his actual job for once, and was relieved to find you hastily storing things away behind his desk.

"Oh, did you forget something?" You asked, unaware of the turmoil floating toward you and worried that maybe you forgot something. Or assumed that his stony glare was simply him about to enter another complaint to the complaint box (you).

Neither was the case.

"I don't like when people touch my things," he said with a low rumble, fingers tapping restlessly on the desk as he brushed up against you.

You didn't need any context clues when you looked up at that ravenous stare. He was talking about you, like some spoiled child with his favorite toy. And if he wanted to play...

"I don't remember applying for this job to be one of your 'things', Mr. Stark," you replied cautiously, finally looking up at him and unsure whether to regret your words. You could tell you piqued his interest, with an unsure glint in his eyes and an interested head tilt. "And I don't appreciate when they talk back." As if testing the waters, a hand tentatively gripped around your throat. He could feel your nervous gulp against his palm, the faint rush of your pulse beneath his thumb. He had you fragile within seconds. Your eyes couldn't decide where to look, flicking between that predatory gaze and his lips slightly parted in thought. "I fucking own you," he stated calmly, taking his time to observe the features of your face now that he had you close in his grasp. You couldn't help but want to rile him further.

"Then maybe you should act like it." The stare that had been lingering on your lips looked back at you with malice. The fingers around your neck slid along your jaw, tilting your chin up at a slightly uncomfortable angle like you were an item on display; just for him to handle however he pleased. His jaw was grinding in frustration.

"I have a meeting to get to," he reminded himself, looking you up at down once more as if deciding what to do with you. You were disappointed when his hand left your chin, but excitement welled up in your belly when he instead whipped that dark tie from around his neck with a commanding "turn around." You'd be crazy not to comply (for a number of reasons), but you still hesitated to let him have you so vulnerable.

One of those things far outweighed the other. You did as he asked.

Calloused fingers took your hands, bringing them behind your back and delicately lacing that silky material around until it had your wrists tightly bound. Now you couldn't go around playing nice with other men. A shiver followed the palm sliding up your back, his grip quickly engulfing the back of your neck. There was a firm yet gentle pressure pushing at the top of your spine, urging you down. You didn't need to think twice, already weak in the knees and easily buckling under his touch. You were well aware of what was directly behind you as you kneeled before him.

"Wait for me to get back, okay?" His question was an instruction, back to lifting your chin as he stood in front of you. You looked up at him through your lashes, tied up and on your knees. The sight had his blood rushing, but your meek "yes, Sir" had him restraining every muscle in his body from taking you right there. He cruelly backed away from you, without another word or touch, quickly heading back before he was missed with nothing but you haunting the front of his mind.

What felt like an hour was really only twenty minutes. A tense, frustrating twenty minutes that had him racing back to you as soon as the important stuff was done. No time for any of that idle chit-chat when he had you so obediently waiting for him in the other room. The opening of the door caught your attention, but the sharp click of the lock had that wave of excitement bubbling up again. You looked up at him eagerly.

No words needed to be exchanged. Your mouth was already watering as he worked oh-so-slowly removed his belt, the jingling chime of its buckle tapping along your spine. Had your hands been free, you would be tearing at that button and zipper, far too impatient for the sweet time he was taking. He carelessly kicked his shoes to the side. And then his pants. And finally those fitted black briefs that hadn't been so well-fitted for the past hour. The sight of him went straight to your already dripping pussy, watching him stalk towards you as he jerked himself off and still in that now slightly disheveled button-up (which was a little disappointing). You looked up at him with eyes that begged him for permission, and what looked back was probably anything but. But you were eager to finally take that pretty cock in your mouth; so close now that all you had to do was lean forward just a little more…

But an all too familiar hold on your chin stopped you. He was tantalizingly close, a glistening drip of precum taunting you. The pad of his thumb grazed over your bottom lip before giving him a new idea.

His hand may have left your jaw, but it wasn't to give you permission. Instead, he swiped a thumb over his slit, gathering his dripping slick. You didn't have to think twice about parting your lips for him, letting him press the wet digit to your tongue. You nearly moaned at his salty taste invading your senses, sucking it from his thumb and earning a hissed-out fuck. He should have known his good little assistant wasn't so good after all. He quickly pulled away from you to instead nudge the hot tip of his cock to your lips, still stroking himself and groaning at your tongue swirling around his head. As soon as your lips wrapped around him, he stopped, threading his fingers through your hair instead with a hum of approval with the shallow bobbing of your head. You let him graze the back of your throat before teasingly pulling all the way back, languidly sucking the head of his cock in and out of your mouth with wet sounds that had his dick twitching and nails biting into your scalp.

You gazed up at him again as you slowly made your way further down, but before you could have any chance to pull back again, he impatiently thrust into you. You nearly choked, not prepared to take him so far but the tightening of your throat he'd waited so long for felt too good to stop.

"I know that smart mouth can take more," he snarked breathlessly, cupping your jaw with his free hand to keep you still while he face-fucked you. Even running out of oxygen and tears pricking behind your lashes, you couldn't help but hum out a strangled moan at letting him use you for his own pleasure.

Your nose was pressed into the nicely trimmed hairs of his pubis, holding you there for a few seconds while he caught his breath and nearly pulling all the way out to let you catch yours. Only a few pitiful pants later and he was sliding down your throat again, only this time with a hitch in his hips. The throbbing twitch in your throat let you know he was close, but so did the fist gripping tighter in your hair and the badly restrained groans above you. You let out a whimperish moan when he roughly pulled your head back with a breaking trail of saliva still connecting you to him. He sloppily jerked himself off at your still parted lips, nudging back in to rest his tip on your flattened tongue when you caught on.

"I don't want you making a mess," he said lowly with gritted teeth. It was code for: swallow it all, and he would be watching. His strokes finally slowed when the first bittersweet spurts trickled down your tongue, working him through the rest of his climax while watching you obediently take that pool of white.

"That's my good girl." The hand on your crown came down to cup your face, thumb brushing affectionately over your cheek and wiping away a stray tear from earlier. You could help but to greedily lick over his slit one last time as he pulled away. You licked the leftover taste from your lips as he bent down to capture you with his own, his tongue lapping over yours and stealing what little breath you still had in a messy kiss. A sharp tug on your makeshift restraints ordered you to stand, and you reluctantly parted from him while he so kindly helped you up.

Though, as soon as you were finally back on your feet, you were not-so-kindly pushed face down onto his desk, the hand holding your wrists against your back promised no mercy. The sight of you bent over his desk was already getting him hard again. It was a fantasy he'd jerked off to in this very office numerous times, and now you were going to give it to him. Your dress was delicately lifted, fingers playing with the wet spot on your panties before tearing them down your legs. The wooden edge of the desk dug into your hips as he lined you up, already feeling him pushing against your entrance.

The searing stretch had your bound hands flying back to grab at him in a plea to slow down when he finally pushed into you, too eager to lay his claim and watch himself fill you out. The involuntary constriction of your walls had you squirming, trying to give him more room while he impatiently kept pushing further and acquainting you with every vein and ridge. There was no warning or waiting once he reached your end, nearly pulling all the way out before harshly thrusting back in. A hand clamped down on your neck, keeping you where he wanted while the quick pistoning of his hips drove your own into the edge of the desk, mixing more pain into your pleasure but you wanted him to leave his mark.

He was ecstatic to hear the cry of his name on your lips and see your tied-up hands pressing against him. He was the only thought behind those glazed-over eyes and that's how it should be. Everything you did was for him, and he would make sure you remembered it. Those pornographic sounds he pulled from you got louder each time he bottomed out.

"Moan like you're my fucking whore," he encouraged you loudly, taking note of the whimpered sigh that followed and the desperate arc of your back as you clenched around him. "Is that what you are? Just for me?" You were ready to answer him, but only a few panted-out moans left your lips. A smug amusement crept into his grin at knowing he had you too fucked-out to answer, but he wasn't going to let you off that easy. That bruising grip snaked its way into your hair, roughly pulling your head back. "I asked you a question," he growled through barred teeth.

"Yes, Sir~" you quickly corrected yourself. He must have been pleased with that apologetic cry, pushing you back into the smooth wood and pumping into you just a bit harder with his free hand grasping at the edge of the desk for leverage. A moan of his own finally left his lips, letting himself get just as lost as you for a moment. "Always so good for me," he panted, this time without that sneer. His words fueled the flame in your core, already so close to peaking with each strong snap of his hips that kept him deep and relentless inside you.

Tony knew it, too. Your tight heat threatening to milk him for everything he had, and, fuck, that's exactly what he wanted you to do. You felt him place an affectionate kiss to your neck before resting his head against you, the fist in your hair leaving to join his other on your waist. But there were no nails biting into your skin or another grip trying to leave bruises. Hands caressed softly at your sides, lovingly even. It's just that you were taking him so well and letting him be so rough with you that he just had to drop his tough act to adore you a little. Though he never slowed and your legs ached, the sudden softness had you weaker than the roughness did.

But you knew Mr. Stark always had you ask for his permission before doing anything.

"Sir, please-"

"It's okay, honey, you can cum for me," he softly panted, pleased that you were asking but far too impatient to test your limit right now. "You've already done such a good job."

It all finally had you gushing around him, giving him your last bit of control while the desperate pistoning of his hips drove you way over your edge. Hot breath fanned down your neck, tongue flicking over your skin when he licked his lips before the pleasant sting of teeth bit into the crook of your neck. He quickly came with you, arms tightly circling your waist as he finally stilled. He didn't even ask, but he wasn't asking anyway; he was making you his- you were his. Besides, you couldn't find a good reason to protest against the hot cum pooling inside you.

Your hands were flattened against his stomach with how he was pressed into you, letting you feel the slowing rhythm of his breath and the tenseness of his muscles underneath. It was a surprisingly calm end to all that pent-up aggression that already had you sore, and it caused an emptiness when he finally slipped out of you. There was a ruffling sound of clothes, and you'd be lying if you said that the soft jingle of his belt buckle didn't light another spark as you barely noticed him standing right behind you. You expected him to free you from your binds -hoping- but the mixed mess between your legs gave him a better idea.

You jolted at the strong tongue circling at your entrance, eating you out even with his seed still dripping from you. The added prickle of his facial hair scratching along your sensitive flesh left behind a pleasurable burn, and he didn't care that you were squirming in overstimulation; in fact he wanted to make it worse, overexcited from finally getting to taste you and going straight for your swollen clit. You couldn't really escape, hips still trapped against the desk and the hands on your thighs begging you to stay. He was only satisfied when you were nearly sobbing his name, shakey legs trying to close him out, and once again cumming hard- only this time around nothing. You were given one last cheeky bite to your thigh before he decided to finally leave you be, but not before thoughtfully pulling your dress back down for you and untying you with a gentle kiss to both of your wrists marked with a faint red. Now that you weren't bound and pinned, you propped yourself up on the desk, arching your back in a satisfied stretch to ease the stiffness in spine, and some of that soreness in your lower belly. Tony watched you as he took his seat, already imagining your naked form stretching out in his bed tomorrow morning.

As much as you would have preferred to lounge around a bit longer, the wooden desk wasn't very comfortable, and, unfortunately, you had a conference room to clean up and Tony had papers to sign. So, you reluctantly stood up, pretending your knees weren't wobbly. Admittedly, he was disappointed to see you back on your feet so soon as if nothing had happened, even if a little shakey. He'd have to find a way to fix that later.

You surveyed the floor for a few seconds for your underwear before deciding he probably did something with them that you didn't want to ask about. Unbeknownst to you, that was what he used to clean your mess from his cock, but he would've kept them regardless. After sliding your shoes back on, you instinctively turned to him, fighting the urge to take his lips with yours when he looked up at you. Oh, the sin that hid behind those innocent eyes. There wasn't even a trace. You had to look away. "Do you need anything else?"

He smiled at your diligent servitude, relaxing into his chair with a hand on his cheek. He'd make sure to exploit that more later, too.

"No, but I will need you back at the house when we're done."

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urlocalnctstan · 2 years

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I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU. eddie munson.

summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.

warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3

word count: 5.1k

i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love m��tley crüe.

eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him.

and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…

eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.

so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”

you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”

“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.”

you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.

“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.

“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”

after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.

“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!

he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”

huh.

you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it.

you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.

he isn’t a bad sight to see.

his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.

his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.

all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.

“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”

you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”

“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”

“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.

“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”

he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.

… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,

i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,

and like a supercharged rocket ride,

you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.

“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”

“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”

eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”

“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”

it came out as gibberish but the point came across.

“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”

“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.

that was strike one for eddie munson.

ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.

you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.

and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”

“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.”

eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it.

“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.

motherfucker.

“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.

you should really start thinking twice.

said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.

“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.

“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”

“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”

you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.

“you bitch!”

with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you.

eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk.

“holy shit…”

“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy.

“twenty.” he blinks.

you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”

eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.

“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.

and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around.

and the rest was history.

that was strike two for eddie munson.

iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.

“is this… MADONNA?”

eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.

he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady.

dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”

eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”

it was his. you left it for him.

dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.

you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.

you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.

just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too.

if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.

“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.

eddie slaps his hands away from his face.

aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.

“did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.

he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”

“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”

eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”

you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”

you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.

you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.

that was strike three for eddie munson.

iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.

“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”

as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”

you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”

“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”

“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”

“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”

“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”

“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”

“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”

“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”

you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”

“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.

“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.

“and twice,” you agree.

as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.

you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.

mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.

the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.

his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.

“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”

“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”

“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”

you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”

eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.

“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”

“no! i shan’t yield!”

giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.

you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.

you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain.

a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second.

“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.

“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.

eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”

he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”

“idiot.” you snort.

eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van.

a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van.

“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”

you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.

he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”

“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”

adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”

he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.

the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.

his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.

should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?

the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.

“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”

“yeah.”

eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?

that was strike four for eddie munson.

but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.

v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.

“harrington? fucking harrington?”

“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.

“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.

“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”

he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”

you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”

“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”

“and robin.”

“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.

“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”

“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.

“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”

“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”

you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”

eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair.

“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”

“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.

you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”

“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.

“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine.

“that’s mine!”

“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”

“you paid for those with my money.”

eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”

“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”

“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”

the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”

“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”

he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”

eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that.

you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.

“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”

although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”

“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.

he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”

you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”

eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.

“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”

“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.

eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”

he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again.

his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.

with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.

“are you sure?” you hesitate.

“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners.

and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.

“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”

eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”

you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”

and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.

robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up.

“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”

you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”

eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”

you shrug.

he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.

“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically.

eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”

“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you.

“i have no idea.”

some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.

“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”

“frozen waffles?” robin questions.

“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna – that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”

you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love.

“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”

you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie.

he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”

“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.

your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.

“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.

you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”

“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”

“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.

“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.

“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”

that was strike ??? for you and eddie.

“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”

“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”

“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”

“... how about the bumper cars?”

“deal.”

#CRYING #joseph quinn #eddie munson #stranger things

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