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[dorapascalstyles]

🙏🏼

[dorapascalstyles]

my husband ☝🏻

[dorapascalstyles]

casual | m. sturniolo

i’ve been scheming for weeks !! (actually started this before move over AND voice. so.)

basically i’m obsessed with this song

summary: the most dangerous label is the casual one; or you both want more

warnings: matt x fem!reader, use of y/n, ANGST, cursing, happy ending bc i’m a sucker & a lost cause

wc: 6.5k

the sun is dipping behind the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange. you have your window rolled down, letting the salt air breeze pick your hair up as you rest against the car door. matt has elmer’s new song playing on aux, something lofi with a bit of spanish mixed in.

“like what you see?” he speaks up, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look over at you. he stares for a second, your skin illuminated by the fading rays of the sun, kissing the tops of your cheeks and giving you a warm glow.

you press yourself up to sit properly and catch his hand resting on the center console. you always loved that he drives with his left hand, the right always close enough for you to touch. 

“it’s pretty,” you say, poking your head back out of the window, looking overhead at the passing trees, “the palms are so tall.” matt squeezes your hand, and when you look back up he’s already looking at you, smiling when you meet his eyes.. his hair looks lighter in the setting sun, the side of his face lit up all golden and warm. you bite your lip and smile, turning away with a slight flush.

“it’s green,” you tell him and he flicks his head back forward, muttering a curse under his breath.

“my bad,” he admits, refusing to drop your hand. 

it looked like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, just takes a breath and lets it out before turning back to the road.

when the car pulls into the garage you reach to the back to grab your overnight bag. matt’s already out of the car, coming over to your side to open your door, “c’mon,” he says in that silly high pitched voice, just to hear you giggle.

you make your way to his bedroom, knowing the ins and outs of the triplet’s house like the back of your hand. matt follows behind you, his footsteps echoing amongst the hardwood floors. 

“i can’t wait to lay down,” you sigh, the effects of the sun's heat catching up with you now that you’re in the cool, air conditioned house.

“yeah, i’m feelin’ pretty tired too,” matt agrees, his voice heavy and suddenly cloaked by fatigue.

you’d been out all day, shopping on melrose, walking by the beach. dinner and ice cream and the beating sun soaked up all your energy. nothing sounded better than getting cozy in matt’s bed and watching a movie, maybe catching a bit of a nap before deciding to head home. you knew he’d insist on driving you, and that always hurt more than you’d like to admit.

the two of you weren’t dating, he wasn’t your boyfriend and you told yourself you didn’t mind. it wasn’t a very convincing lie though, most everyone around you could tell. it’s not that you hadn’t talked about it, you had, there were just things getting in the way.

matt was worried about how his fans would react, and he absolutely did not want it to be at your expense. you hated the thought of pushing him, like forcing him or asking too much, being too needy would only drive him away. all your friends had told you to stop, that you were only going to get yourself hurt, but you’d honestly rather have half of him and a broken heart than none of him at all. 

you never doubted that he cares about you, in fact you know he does. he always picks you up from classes, knows your order at all your favourite fast food places and keeps an extra toothbrush in the bathroom for you. it’s things like that that make the title of causal or just seeing each other sting a little bit more.

here though, all settled in matt’s bed, you try not to think about it too hard. there’s some liam neeson movie he insisted on showing you playing on the tv, and you’re happy to be watching it, but mostly happy to be watching it with him. his chest rises and falls under your head with each breath and it’s making you more tired than before.

“i’m so warm,” you say through a yawn, all comfy now in your sweats and matt’s crewneck, although the comfort comes mostly from his arms wrapped around your middle. 

“you can throw on a pair of boxers if you want, top drawer,” matt offers, his arms unmoving, keeping you mildly trapped against him.

“let me goooo,” you groan dramatically, making a big show of sliding out from under his arms and grinning to yourself when he laughs.

“come back,” he pouts, reaching for a stuffed animal to take your place while you cross the room to his dresser.

“just give me a sec,” you giggle, rummaging around in the drawer and pulling out a pair of plaid boxers. there’s something stuck to it, all tangled up in the mess of his clothes, “what the– is this my bra? i’ve been looking for this for like a month.” 

matt lifts his head just enough to see what you’re holding up, huffing when he hits the pillow again, “i dunno, sweetheart, you probably left it, you’ve got a lot of stuff here,” he sounds tired, and the words are pressed against his pillow now that he’s rolled onto his stomach. 

you’ve got lots of stuff here.

it digs into you, how casually he says it, an almost physical ache you feel beyond your ribs, right where your heart is. 

quickly you try to shake it off, shucking off your sweatpants and sliding the boxers up your legs so you can hurry back into bed before allowing yourself to think about what he said too much. 

“c’mere,” there’s a little smile on his face when he says it, arm outstretched for you to crawl under. immediately matt tucks you up against his body impossibly close, his nose stuffed into your hair and breathing you in. it feels nice, right, and you let yourself bask in it, like maybe the state of your relationship (or lack thereof) won’t be in limbo forever. he has to feel it too, the pull.

“i think you should just stay tonight,” he says quietly against your temple, leaving a little kiss there.

“are you sure?”

he nods, “it’s late, ‘m not gonna kick you out,” you can see his smile in the dark, his features lit up delicately by the dim light of the movie, “and i kinda wanna cuddle,” he admits sheepishly, trying to hide his blush when you turn to him.

“awe, matty,” you tease, scooching closer to him, hardly an inch away.

“hey,” he says all high pitched, making you laugh again.

“that voice always gets me,” you tell him, snuggling up under his chin.

“that’s why i do it,” he tells you.

it doesn’t take long for you to slip into an easy sleep with matt holding you, the mindless noise coming from the tv luring you deeper into unconsciousness. he’s being extra gentle, finger tips dragging along your waist under your top. you hardly feel him slide out of bed or tuck you in all snug under the covers.

nick’s in the kitchen when matt emerges from his bedroom for some water,  hunting for something in the pantry. matt rubs his eyes.

“hello?” chris leans forward on the couch, his voice startling matt.

“jesus, what– you’re just both out here at fucking two in the morning?” he grumbles, eyes squinted against the harsh lights.

“we ordered food,” chris stands up, walking into the kitchen.

nick nods, closing the cupboard, glass in hand, “we thought you were at y/n’s or something, i didn’t hear you come in,”

matt grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and a takes a sip before answering, “nah she’s here, she’s asleep,” he says, nodding towards his bedroom.

nick groans, “god, are you guys dating yet,” he asks, head rolling back against his shoulders, exsapertated.

matt’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst of noise, looking back at his door to make sure nick didn’t wake you, “dude, be quiet,” he urges.

you’d felt matt’s absence after a few minutes, the warmth of his body leaving the bed when he did. slowly you sit up, pressing the heel of your palm into your eye and swinging your feet to the floor quietly. you stand behind matt’s closed bedroom door, prepared to silently creep out and go to the bathroom when you catch his voice. 

“and no,we’re just casual,” he continues to answer nick’s question, who glances over and chris. “what— don’t look at him like that,” this earns him another sideye, “i mean it, it’s not serious.”

“matthew” nick starts, “isn’t she asleep in your bed right now?” nick points an accusatory finger in his brother’s direction, emphasizing his words.

it’s matt’s turn to look at chris, who holds his hands up in surrender, “don’t look at me, i’m with nick,” he says, looking away from his brother from where he remains on the couch.

“well she’s not my girlfriend, if that’s where this is going,” matt turns back to the fridge, not really looking for anything, just trying to hide from his brother’s judgmental, but justified, stares. 

it hurts to hear, even if you know it’s the truth.

“and why not, idiot,” nick asks, getting fed up. he can clearly tell how his brother feels and is getting frustrated, mad even, with the idea of him toying with your feelings. 

“i just—i just can’t do it.” that hurts more, a sharp pain you feel in your chest. you swallow dryly, and that hurts too. 

you decide you don’t have to go to the bathroom that badly anymore, and slowly sink back into matt’s bed. you know you and matt aren’t together, that he’s not your boyfriend, but a part of you has always clung to the idea that one day he would be, that he’d finally make the move. you thought he liked you enough to at least try.

tugging the duvet up to your chin you roll over onto your side to face the wall. matt comes back into the bedroom and you can hear nick and chris talking quietly for a second before the door closes again. you’re not too sure, but you think one of them mumbles your name amidst the conversation. matt slides back under the covers with you, coming as close as he can to wrap his arms around you.

it makes your head spin, his words rattling around in your mind, saying he “can’t do it,” but here is, body tucked perfectly against yours, holding you so tight you’d think he never wanted to let go.

—

matt seems notice that you’re a bit quieter than usual the next morning, but you try to hide it under the excuse of not feeling well. he offers to drop you off and you take him up on it, knowing that marinating in the misery you feel won’t solve anything but seems to be the easiest thing to do at the moment.

“text me if you need anything, okay?” his tone is concerned and you can feel him looking at you even though you’re trying to avoid eye contact. you know you’d cave, catching a glimpse of the light blue with all that worry clouding it.

“yeah, i will,” you sigh, reaching into the back seat to grab your bag. 

matt catches you, palm placed delicately along your jaw so you’ll look at him, “hey,” he says all soft, “c’mere,” he guides you forward slightly and you know what’s coming, you know it’s gonna hurt but you do it anyway.

he kisses you gently and you fall into it with ease, reaching out to touch his arm. when he strokes his thumb along your cheekbone you pull away, licking your lips.

“i’ve gotta go,” you whisper, afraid the full volume of your voice would shatter something, you’re not too sure what.

“yeah, okay,” he nods, pulling his hand away from your face and trying to smile as you open your door, watching you walk into your building.

he stays there in the parked car for a minute, wondering what’s wrong, pretending he doesn’t know that this whole situation hurts you just as much as it hurts him. he’s staring up at your apartment window, tapping the steering wheel and taking a long, deep breath.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, pushing his hair back and putting the car in reverse.

—

you and matt don’t talk excessively for the next few days, only a few texts exchanged here and there and one phone call after he knew you’d just written a midterm. 

he called to ask how it went and tell you he was proud of you, and also to invite you out to dinner with his parents on the upcoming weekend. they were flying out to l.a. for a few days and he wanted you to meet them. it felt cruel.

“i dunno matt, i’ve got an assignment due sunday at midnight, i might not be able to make it,” of course you wanted to go, but the tug of self preservation was starting to become more equal to the pull you felt towards him. you were starting to lose sight of what was more important, him or yourself.

for so long it had been him.

“please, sweetheart, i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever,”  matt slumps into his desk chair, spinning back forth.

you cave and somehow your vision clears. it was him again.

“yeah, yeah, okay, i wanna see you too,”

matt smiles on the other end of the phone, “yay,” he says sweetly, making his joy obvious, “i can help you with your assignment if you want, too,” he offers, and you know he’s just trying to get a smile out of you.

you laugh without meaning to, “matt, you know nothing about the course,” 

“i’ll figure it out, anything i can do to make sure i see you,”

you bite your lip, trying to keep a smile at bay, “careful, you’re gonna make me think you like me or something,”

“aw, well i can’t have that now can i?” he teases, and it cuts deeper than he realizes it does.

“no,” you mutter, trying to hold onto the smile on your face even though matt can’t see you, “um, i should probably get going, if i wanna finish my assignment on time,”

“oh, yeah, okay. i could come by a little later with some food?” he poses it as a question, sensing your hesitancy.

“you don’t have to do that,”

“i know, but i want to,” he says it so easily, like there’s no reason in the world he wouldn’t come to your house after eleven pm just to sit on your bedroom floor while you do school work.

“canes?” you finally offer.

“be there in half an hour.” you hear the car keys jingle through the phone, the front door latching shut.

—

the triplet’s parents land on friday afternoon. you haven’t seen matt since wednesday night when he called and brought take out to your place, and you’re starting to feel a little nervous at the thought of seeing his parents.

you’ve spoken to them over facetime once or twice when matt had called them, but this is real, this is serious.

you think you’ve completely driven yourself insane with that, thinking of it as serious. for days there’s been a battle in your head about whether or not this means matt wants to make your relationship offical. it’s become such a problem that you’ve forbidden yourself from thinking about it.

taking a deep breath you refocus on yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair and trying to decide on a lip product for the night when your roomate wanders into your bedroom.

“how are you doing?” she asks, leaning against the door frame. you don’t answer, just look up at her with what must be a miserable expression, because she chuckles sadly at you, “that bad, huh?”

you groan and clench your fists, “i’m just confused!” you exclaim.

“i know, but i think tonight should clear some things up,” she tells you hopefully, and you really want to believe her.

“i hope so,” you sigh, “i just really like him,” you whine, defeated.

your phone dings then, a message from matt of course.

matt sturn

be there in twenty

ive got the kids

you laugh sadly at the text.

“‘s that him?” your roommate asks.

“yeah, him and his brothers are on the way, they’ll be here soon.”

“you’ll do great, don’t sweat it,” she tries to reassure you, giving you an over enthusiastic thumbs up before shutting your door again.

matt, nick and chris have been in the car for about five minutes and already matt’s debating driving into oncoming traffic. him and his brothers have had the same fight at least three times since you stayed over last week, and if he’s honest, he’s getting really sick of it.

“enough of this ‘i can’t do that’ bullshit, matt, she’s coming to dinner with our parents,” nick says pointedly, running out of air at the end of his setence, “you don’t just bring your hook up to that shit, so fucking stop talking to her if it’s that much of an issue,” he continues, leaning froward against matt’s seat, staring holes into the side of his brothers face.

matt is clearly aggravated, gripping the wheel a little too hard, “shut the fuck up, nick— she’s not just a hook up,” 

nick’s eyes get wider at this and he leans over matt’s seat, voice exponentially louder when he says, “you just proved my fucking point!!”

“you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” matt mumbles in a deft tone, staring harshly out onto the road.

chris leans over from the passenger seat, gesturing in matt’s direction, “and you do? you never shut the fuck up about her, and she’s always at the house but you’re too much of a pussy to do anything,” he yells over matt all in one breath, words coming out too fast. 

matt’s mouth is set in a firm line and he’s shaking his head, “you guys don’t get it!” he finally yells back, signaling and switching lanes before he can finish his thought, “i can’t do that to her,” the car’s stopped at a red light now, allowing him to look nick in the eye from the rearview mirror. both him and chris shut up for a second.

“i can’t do that to her,” matt emphasizes again, making his point with his hands, bracketing the last two words, “the internet would chew her up and spit her out. you think i don’t want to make her my girlfriend? do you think i like doing this to her? every fucking day i think about cutting it off because i don’t wanna hurt her, but i’m too fucking selfish to do it.”

“it’s green,” chris mumbles.

“shut the fuck up,” matt says through his teeth as he turns back to face the road, driving through the light.

“so what are you gonna do?” nick asks, softer now, arm hung over the back of matt’s seat.

matt looks up at him in the rearview again, taking a deep, anxiety ridden breath, “i don’t know.”

the three boys are silent for the remainder of the drive to your apartment. matt puts the car in park and mumbles something about being right back before getting out and heading up to your floor, slamming the car door a little bit too hard.

“jesus christ,” chris breathes, feeling the tension finally break.

there’s a knock at the front door, and you take a deep breath before opening it. matt stands with his hair a little bit messy and his cheeks a little bit red, but he softens when he sees you.

“hey,” you say, “let me just grab my bag,”

“wait, y/n,”

“yeah?” you turn back around to look at him. he’s standing in the middle of your kitchen, looking a little bit deflated.

“can i have a hug?”

your heart nearly shatters. is he feeling it too?

“wha– of course baby, of course,” you cross the kitchen over to him and he already has his arms open. immediately he locks his arms around your waist, resting his head against yours. you gently rub his back and rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“is everything okay?” you wonder after a second, feeling him breathe heavily against you.

matt squeezes you a little tighter and kisses your hair, “yeah,” he sighs, “nick and chris are just annoying,”

“you love them though,” you remind him.

he pulls away but keeps you close, hands on your hips now, “sometimes i think about reevaluating that,” 

you laugh at him, fixing his messy hair, “no you don’t,”

its his turn to smile, “you’re right,” he leans in for a quick kiss which you grant him, letting it dampen your nerves and reservations on the evening.

“i know, now c’mon, we’ve gotta go,” you slide your hand down into his.

“you don’t have to be nervous, by the way,” matt says to you in the elevator, still holding your hand. 

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and he squeezes your hand, letting you know he’s there for you, “it just feels serious,” you finally admit what you’ve been thinking for the last few days. you’re a little bit afraid to look over at him, so you keep your gaze towards the closed elevator doors.

matt gives your hand a quick squeeze and glances at the side of your face, you can feel his eyes on you, “it’s not serious, don’t worry,” it’s a little strained when he says it, as if he means something else but you can’t quite decipher it. it’s too much to think about now and yet it’s all you’ve been thinking about for days, how ‘unserious’ it all is to him.

when you do get to dinner, marylou and jimmy are already at the restaurant. marylou is being so sweet to you, asking about classes and how you met the boys, what you like do to in your spare time and things about matt that you tease him over. you feel like a girlfriend, you feel like his girlfriend and you don't think you can take much more of it. she tells you how much he talks about you when he’s home, that even justin has started making fun of him for it.

when you look over at matt he’s blushing but staring directly into his plate, avoiding you.

the smile you plastered onto your face fades and you dig your nails into your plam under the table.

“excuse me, i’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you say to no one in particular, catching nick’s eyes. he seems to notice your pleading gaze, and sends you a text after you’ve left the table

nick stromboli 

you okay?

you lock yourself in the single bathroom and stand staring at your phone screen.

you

this is brutal

your mom is being sooo sweet but matt won’t even look at me

i feel like he's embarrassed

nick stromboli

he's actually the biggest idiot that ever lived

chris is lowk giving him a death stare rn

nick was being serious, chris staring at matt as marylou goes on about how nice you are.

nick elbows matt in the side and he looks over, more than slightly fed up.

“i think you should go check on y/n,” he whispers, making matt perk up a bit in worry.

“why?”

“i don’t think she’s feeling good,”

“oh, i hope she’s okay,” marylou interrupts herself.

“i’ll be right back,” matt stands from the table and walks to the bathroom, knocking on the door gently, “y/n/n? it’s me sweetheart,”

a slight panic drops through you as you push away from where you were leaning against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

“c’mon let me in, nick said you weren’t feeling good,” he knows you were nervous about tonight, and he’s hoping that’s all it is, that he can fix it.

you sigh, head tossed back to your shoulders as you breathe out before letting him in, hoping you look more composed than you feel.

“hey, you okay?” he asks gently, closing the door behind him.

“yeah, uh, i think i’m gonna go,” you mumble, looking away.

“what? d–do you want like a gingerale or something?” his brows are pinched and he’s reaching out for you. you step back without thinking about it. you don’t even notice you’d done it until you see the hurt look on his face. he reaches out again, slower this time.

“y/n…”

something in you clicks, or comes crashing down when his fingers brush your wrist, “i’m not your girlfriend matt, stop worrying about me like i am,”

he's a little bit stunned at that and pulls back, saying your name again. 

“no, don’t do that, i heard what you said to the guys last week, and you keep telling me we’re causal and we can’t be anything but we’re at dinner with your fucking parents. i can’t keep prenteding to be your girlfriend, or–or that it doesn’t hurt, i just can’t do it anymore,” 

there’s tears in your eyes you don’t notice until matt whispers, “don’t cry,”

“i’m going crazy,” you tell him, voice so soft, so fragile that his heart breaks a little bit.

“no you’re not, c’mon– we can work this out,” the words are so comforting, and normally he’s the one you’d run to for comfort, but he’s hurting you.

“are we gonna make it official, matt? or are we just gonna keep sleepingover at eachother’s houses four days a week and tell all our friend we aren’t dating?” you ask, pressing your fingertips underneath your eyes, “are we gonna do this for real or are you gonna keep telling your parents about me when you’re in boston, and–and keep coming to my house after midnight with take out just because i don’t wanna be alone working on assignments,” he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a solemn look, so you keep going.

“i can’t take the sorry fucking look chris keeps giving me when i’m walking out of your room, it hurts, matt,”

he steps forward finally, trying to make up for more than the physical space that separates you, “no, c’mon, just–just come back to the table. i’ll stay at yours tonight and we’ll talk about this,”

you hold back a scoff at the irony of him mentioning he’ll stay over, “i need an answer now.” you tell him. he’s gone back to standing a few feet away from you, not touching you anymore.

“an answer for what?”

“can you commit to this now? to me?” you feel like you’re pleading with him and you hate how desperate it is.

“we aren’t having this conversation in the bathroom right now, can we please just talk about it later?” matt asks.

you shake your head, “matt, we’ve been doing this for four months, i don’t wanna wait any longer, i’m not a toy.”

he stares at you, licking his lips. you stare back, suffocating in his silence. it’s all the answer you need.

“i’m gonna go,” you mutter, “tell your parents it was really nice to meet them, and that i’m sorry for leaving,” you add, looking away when you walk passed him to open the door.

you leave the restaurant and call an uber, hardly sparing a glance in the direction of his family’s table on your way out.

“is y/n okay?” jimmy asks when matt comes back alone. 

matt shoves a hand into his hair to push it back, not meeting anybody’s eyes, “she went home, she wasn’t feeling good”

“and you didn’t offer to take her?” marylou scolds, sure she raised her son better than that.

“she didn’t want me to,” matt admits, defeated.

nick and chris share a look, knowing that isn’t the whole truth, or really the truth at all. 

—

a few days later, after their parents had gone back to boston, matt’s shuffling into nick’s bedroom, where him and chris are laying on the bed on their phones. 

matt looks a mess, hair wild and eyes sunken in. he’s been in his bedroom all day, blinds drawn and door latched shut

nick thinks he’s wearing a hoodie of yours, the faded smell of your perfume lingering when his brother walks in. 

“…you okay?” nick asks, glancing up from his phone. 

matt shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes with his fists, “i feel like fucking shit,” he admits, still looking down, “i hate that i hurt her,” he tells the two, as if his brothers weren’t already acutely aware, “i was trying so hard to keep from hurting her and i fucking did it anyway,” they wait for matt to finish, knowing he has a little more to say, “i was so fucking scared of making things offical that i lost her all together, she’s never gonna talk to me again,”

nick sighs and looks over at chris, the two of them sharing a sympathetic look before he moves forward and puts his arm around matt, who slumps against his shoulder, “that's not true,” nick says, “she probably should never talk to you again, but she’s a good person, and she’s our friend,”

“yeah, and she cares about you a lot, matt.” chris adds, sitting on the matt’s other side.

matt groans and covers his face, “i know, and that’s what sucks,” he wipes his palms over his face, “god, why was i so fucking stupid?”

“because you really like her,” chris offers, “and you’re gonna try and make it up to her…right?”

matt sits back up, staring at the wall, “i dunno, i want to, i don’t…” he takes a deep breath, willing the pit in his stomach to go away, “i’m more afraid of losing her all together than i was of any of that other shit, but i don’t know how to fix…this,” he says, dejected.

nick perks up, because he’s never seen matt half as lively as he is when he’s with you, or talking about you. he’s pretty sure matt was on his way to falling in love with you (if he hasn’t already) and refuses to let him lose hope,“i have an idea,” he says.

matt looks at his brother, desperate. the circles under his eyes a shade too dark, his cheeks sunken in, his lips chapped. nick continues.

“we’ll need waffles.”

—

it’s been over a week and a half since you walked out of the restaurant, and since you’d spoken to matt. nick’s been messaging you, asking if you’re okay and telling you he’s there for you. there’s been a bit of him telling you how stupid matt is, which you’d agreed with solemnly.

nick’s messaging you now. you’re posted up at your kitchen table trying to review for one of your exams, but more so warding off another wave of tears, pressing your fingertips into your eyes.

you pick up your phone to answer the message nick had sent, something about a sleepover at your place this weekend and a promise of a hannah montana binge, but there’s a knock at your door. you’re confused at first, wondering who’s at your door this late.

“did you order food?” you ask your roommate as you get up, looking in through the crack of her barely opened door. her headphones are on and she's hunched over a textbook with a highlighter, oblivious to any visitors.

your heartbeat speeds up a little bit as you begin to think about who’s on the other side. with a huff you look through the peephole, met with a slightly distorted image of matt anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

he keeps looking down the hallway and biting the inside of his cheek. he’s holding something. a paper bag in one hand and a bouquet of delicately wrapped flowers in the other.

you turn the lock, hand shaking a little bit as the door swings open. he whips his head from where he was looking down the hall to the now open door, your eyes locking immediately.

“matt,” you whisper, not even meaning to say it.

he stares at you for a second, seemingly forgetting any words he would have said for a second before holding up the bag.

“i brought waffles.”

—

“please let me in,” he says breathlessly, as if he was holding his breath waiting for you to open the door. “i know i probably don’t deserve a chance, and you probably don’t wanna hear me out, but…but please,” he licks his lips, grip tightening on the stems of the flowers, (you didn’t think he was listening when you told him your favourites all those months ago) “i miss you,” it’s quiet, the way he says it. he’s pleading with you.

there’s an ache in your chest, you’re trying not to mistake his tenderness for pity. and yet you still find yourself letting him in.

“okay,” it takes so little convincing. you missed him too.

there’s little talking at first, mostly just you and matt grabbing plates down and dishing yourselves out. he went to your favourite diner, because of course he did. the waffles are still warm and are making your kitchen smells like butter and sausage. you move your books and laptop out of the way to make room for the two of you to sit, elbows touching when you start to eat.

you’re half way through your first waffle when matt speaks up. you could feel him staring, his body half turned towards you in his chair. some of your hair falls into your face and his finger twitches before you tuck it away. all he wants to do it touch you. hold you, kiss you, anything. he’s such a jerk. 

“i’m sorry,” 

you freeze for a second, still facing away from him. after you finish chewing you set your fork down and turn slowly, finally looking him in the eyes. the blue has grown a shade too dark, melancholic. 

“for what?” you ask stupidly, just needing to know how he’s felt about it all.

“fuck, everything?” he says, forcefully pushing his hair away from his eyes. 

you shake your head and turn back to your plate.

“y/n,” he sighs, “c’mon look at me,”

you do, but it hurts.

“i’m sorry for what happened at the restaurant, and i’m sorry things got so out of hand and–and that…this went on for so long,” he gestures between the two of you, fixing his wild hair again.

“this?” you ask, voice breaking, thinking the worst, that he regrets it all, that it’s over. it’s really over.

“this stupid fucking dance we’ve been doing for four months, it’s crazy. it was always crazy.”

you huff, probably a little bit too dramatically as you shift to face him fully, “matt, what are you saying?”

“i’m saying that i like you! and it was so stupid to fucking…dilute that becuase i was scared or some shit,” the latter end of his sentence loses volume, he’s getting shy again.

“but–but you just wanted to be casual–” you start, looking down at your crossed legs.

“no, i never wanted to be fucking casual, i was just…. fuck i was just scared.” he says around a mouthful of waffle. the air smells like syrup. 

“i wanna be with you all the time, i like you so much– i just– at first i didn’t want things to be weird between us, which is why i thought a relationship was the wrong idea, but then we started…doing relationship things and it only got better.” he starts, messing with his hair and pushing his food around his plate, “after i stopped being so afraid of that i just, i got scared of another thing,” he finally looks up at you, eyes a little sad, a little heavy.

you can tell that he knows how he’s made you feel, and despite that you hate that he’s sad. you never want him to be sad.

matt continues, “i’d hate for you to get hurt because of my fans, and i knew it was gonna be hard to keep things private, to keep things…ours. i thought that was something i didn't wanna do or i wasn't ready for but…” he sighs, cutting himself off and taking in another big breath. you want to reach out and rub his back, knowing he’s anxious and just trying to calm himself down. 

“you being mad at me i can deal with,” he starts again, “you being mad, or–or upset because of me, is harder to handle, but fuck, not having you at all? that's worse than anything else we’d have to face,” he looks up, dead into your eyes to make sure you understand the weight of what he’s about to say, “together.”

“matt…” you whisper. you’ve forgotten about the food. it’s getting cold but it doesn’t matter.

he shakes his head before meeting your eyes again, “i’d rather go through all that bullshit with you than go through nothing without you,” he sounds so sincere that you think your heart skips a beat.

“what are you—”

“i wanna do this. for real.” he nods once, watching you closely.

“do you mean that?” he hates how doubtful you sound and he hates that he’s the one to have put all that doubt there. he thinks you might cry.

“y–yeah of course i mean it. i should have said it a long time ago, and if it makes you feel any better nick’s been giving me shit for like, two months, and i think chris wanted to beat me up last week.” he offers you half a smile, hoping you’ll give one back.

instead you breathe out laugh. he basks in it.

“i want you to be my girlfriend,” you’re looking down again and your hair falls from it’s place behind your ear. he doesn’t stop himself this time, nimble, ring adorned finger pushing it back, “i wanna be your boyfriend,”

you look up at him, studying his face for a second before you speak. he looks tired and a little worn, like he’s been thinking too much and too hard and worrying even more.

“yeah?” you finally say.

matt smiles at you. he has such a pretty smile.

“yeah.” he nods, smiling now.

“so we’re not just casual?”

matt scoffs out a laugh and stands. you stand too and he wraps his arms around you, tucking his chin atop your head when your arms go over his shoulders. he kisses your hair and breathes you in, the lingering scent of your shampoo and your perfume and you. it’s all over his clothes and his sheets, but nothing beats having you in his arms again. 

“we were never just causal,” he assures you, as if you didn’t know.

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @cherrypostsposts

also tagging some of my faves (writers & other creators!!) 🥹 @pettydollie @wcters @grimholic @floristmatt (if you don’t wanna be tagged lmk!!)

[dorapascalstyles]

oh he’s a fucking WHORE

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

[dorapascalstyles]

means something

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summery: your best friend stopped talking to you suddenly but you need one last chance at closure

warnings: angst lol

a/n: short and sweet (and sad) but i had fun writing it. alsoooo it’s based on the song but you don’t need the song playing in the background bc the pacing is different

love, sienna <3

you let out a defeated sigh as you focus your attention on a blank sheet of paper. it was supposed to be easy now, easier to let out your thoughts and begin to reconstruct your views on the situations that bring you sadness. at least that’s what your therapist advised you.

but instead you have nothing but small doodles of hearts on the top of the paper, serving as nothing but a sad reminder of your own life and how it lacks the love you always read about.

‘hopeless romantic’ used to feel like the wrong word, because there was a point where you had hope for a story like you see in the movies. a classic romantic comedy plot line was one you had always yearned for.

it’s silly how badly you’ve wanted it. you know you’re a complete person without it, you have strengths and aspirations and you cannot base your worth onto stupid boys.

but he wasn’t stupid. not in the slightest, regardless of what others said about him.

he was thoughtful and caring in ways no one else has been to you. never in your life have you seen someone so in touch with their own emotions at that level.

that’s because he’s special. to you and to so many other people.

April 17th, 2022

dear Matt,

i’m not entirely sure how to do this whole thing but it’s a step in healing that i’m more than inclined to take. part of me just really wants to get better so i have to do something to help me.

it might seem really random that i’m mailing you a letter, and trust me i understand how odd it is. but for once i needed you to hear me, and i can’t really send this message to a blocked number.

i can’t see anything in life without thinking of you. i saw a street sign the other day and i had to squint because, for a moment i thought i saw your last name plastered on the plastic. and i thought that it meant something. like the universe was trying to tell me something.

how pathetic is that? you know i can’t even have most of my favourite snacks anymore because they were our favourite snacks. the new foods you introduced me to when i forced you to watch ‘to all the boys i’ve loved before’ with me in middle school are practically forbidden from my apartment.

“this is the dumbest movie concept ever” Matt speaks, an annoyed undertone to his voice as he looks to me.

“you haven’t even watched it yet how can it be dumb? you know you might end up enjoying it if you watch it with an open mind” i reply, snuggling into his arm as my body rests on the soft couch cushion.

it definitely doesn’t take long for him to become invested.

“wait someone sent the letters?”

“why is she kissing him? doesn’t she like margo’s boyfriend?”

“damn they’re really just making out in a public hot tub”

the movie comes to a close, a cute song playing as the credits roll. “so, what did you think?”

“i think that i really like root beer and i really need the second movie now” he exclaims, sipping his bubbly liquid before looking down at me with the same blue eyes that can easily make me dizzy.

“i thought you’d come around Matt”

now i’m just a girl getting sad over a canned soda and a familiar brand of chips because it reminds me of all the good that once was.

along with this, i know everything about you.

i know your zodiac sign, me and leo’s are really compatible, which i never failed to mention to you despite how little you believe in astrology.

i can’t lie, the amount of silly little compatibility quizzes i took throughout middle school with our names punched in was a bit excessive, but every time without fail i would get the answers i had hoped for. and i thought that meant something.

i know how hard it was growing up for you. but i was there for you when you needed someone to force you to go to school in the morning, or when you needed help ordering food at the gas station across the street.

i used to think we were soulmates. not always romantic, but we just understood each other so well and i considered it to be sacred.

whenever i went through my own shit you were there for me. it was always so easy. knowing that if i had a bad day i had someone to go to who would listen with open ears… i guess it’s just been hard to live without that.

“Matt why did he break up with me? am i that unlovable?” i cry out, my head buried in matt’s chest as he rubs small circles on the back of my head.

he just pulls my head off of him, hands placed on either cheek as he looks at me. “i don’t think there is anyone on this planet that is more lovable than you”

i sniffle, trying my best to suppress the numerous tears that want nothing more than to escape my eyes. “so why did he break up with me out of the blue? after eight months why did he just decide he’s done with me?”

“because he’s an idiot who doesn’t understand the girl he just lost”

i cried for hours that night when my boyfriend broke up with me, and i know you remember. the next morning i woke up in your arms and i immediately felt guilty for keeping you up so late with my sob stories, but you didn’t care.

you said you wanted what’s best for me and you would make it your life’s goal to make me happy. and then you had the audacity to run your fingers through my hair as i thought about what to do next. that along with the constant reminders of how much i deserved love, that it was a definite thing for me.

how is that okay? do you not see how that was so completely confusing? did it mean absolutely nothing?

i haven’t kissed many people in my life, something Chris loved to tease me about. what he doesn’t know is that you were my first.

we never talked about it. maybe that was for the best, because every time i see a picture of you all i can think about is how good your lips felt on mine.

“i can’t just kiss you!” i laugh out, taking another swig of my drink before wiping my lips and looking back at the boy who has a serious expression resting on his face.

“sure you can. i don’t want jack to have an unfortunate ending to your guys’ date if u end up like… licking his bottom lip or some shit” he argues, holding his own drink in his own hand but keeping his attention solely on me.

“you’re just saying that because you’re drunk”

“maybe” he replies, sensing my hesitance. “is the idea of kissing me that bad?”

“no! no of course not, i just don’t wanna make it weird between us” i say, suddenly feeling a pool of anxiety form in my stomach.

but then, before i could form another overwhelming thought you just kissed me. just like that your lips were attached to mine and everything felt okay.

it was short lived, although i know i could have been like that forever. “nothing could ever make things weird between us, promise”

it’s funny isn’t it? how many times we assured each other that our friendship was solid, unbreakable.

i think the worst part is the not knowing. there’s nothing to comfort me with.

you left one day and you simply never spoke to me again. was it my fault? was it something i said?

i can’t help but wonder if the reason you cut it off is because you noticed all the small glances i would take in your direction. or if you noticed that the reason why i love romance books so much is because i imagine we’re the main characters.

that’s the thing though, i’ll never know. i feel less like myself without you, but maybe that’s part of growing up.

i have to learn what my own favourite snacks are and i can’t reply on you to have my back when i get my heart broken. instead i’ll be crying in an empty bed wondering what could’ve happened differently.

this wasn’t supposed to be a long letter but i promise it’s the only one you’ll be getting from me because i have to do the same as you, i have to move on.

i just have one question for you.

did all of this mean something to you? like really mean something to you in the way that i interpreted it.

i’ve wondered if i was delusional when i caught you staring at me from across the classroom, or when i found those compatibility tests in your search history.

but the kiss? drunk or not i thought something was there, with you or with us or whatever else. i didn’t think i was just another girl that Matt Sturniolo kisses and then forgets about but that’s exactly what i became.

anyways, i hope this letter finds you well. i had to ask Nate for your address but please don’t get mad at him. you know how stubborn i am when i want something and he tried to say no.

i guess i just love you, and i’m trying my best to make that sentence into past tense.

thanks for listening, y/n.

you grab an envelope that resides on the edge of your desk and open it up. folding up your letter and placing it gently inside before licking the tip of the envelope and closing it.

it all feels metaphorical. pouring your heart out just for it to get concealed by a thin piece of paper and shipped away.

regardless, you breathe out, standing up and making your way over to the garage to start your car. if you don’t do it know you won’t do it at all, and you need him to hear you.

a/n: if u want a part 2 you might get one maybe… we’ll see what i’m feeling anyways hope you enjoyed this blurb

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut @lustfulslxt @69isabella69 @dracoflaco @mattslatinagf @raekensluver @worldlxvlys @greatooglymooglyyy @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss @imwetforyourmom @sturniolololover @immuneweed @its-jennarose @taco-taco-posts @luverboychris @gracealwaysdisgrace @gamermattsgf @mattscoquette @nervoussagittarius @sugrhigh @jnkvivi @sturnsmia

[dorapascalstyles]

Shower Chats {Matt Sturniolo}

Request: 28) A sitting on the floor and chatting while B takes a shower w matt pls !!

Prompt(s): same as request!

Warnings: none, just fluff!

A/N: PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!!

Matt had been filming with Chris and Nick ever since you could make it to their house. You always claimed to be the boys number one fan, but sometimes you missed hanging out with your boyfriend. You had a long day at work and you knew that when you got off you could go see Matt, which was the only thing helping you get through your shift.

You hadn't anticipated however, that there would have to be a last minute film session for the boys Wednesday video. Nick had sat down to edit the video they filmed the day prior, realizing that no audio was captured. You laid in Matt's bed as the three filmed some sort of challenge in the kitchen.

After an hour or so had passed, Matt made his way into the bedroom, "We are done filming now babe, do you mind if I take a shower really quick?" He asked, grabbing some fresh clothes out of his closet. You pouted at him, remaining in your spot on the bed, "But Matt..." You whined, feeling extra needy tonight.

"Awww, don't pout! I promise I'll be quick!" He reassured you, now standing in the doorway so he could make his way to the bathroom. The frown didn't let up as you wished Matt would just drop everything and cuddle you, but you knew he wouldn't do that until he had his nightly shower. "I'll come with you then." You stated, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and walking towards him. He opened his mouth to protest before you spoke again, "Please Matt? I really miss you, I just want to hang out with you. I don't even have to get in, I just want to sit on the floor."

He chuckled, bringing you into a hug and swaying you side to side, "Okay baby, let's go then."

The water began to steam up the mirror as you found solace on the bathroom rug. You pulled your knees into your chest as you looked straight ahead at the wall, hearing the water run down the shower drain with a slight gurgling noise.

"You know, today at work , there was this customer who spilled an entire gallon of milk. It spread all the way down the aisle because it fell out of the cart."

"Wow, did you have to clean it all up?" Matt asked you, intrigued in the story.

"Well yes, but get this! Not only did the whole carton spill but the guy who dropped it ended up slipping on it too! He was trying to help me by using some paper towels, I felt so bad but we were both laughing about it. It felt like it was straight out of a cartoon!" You began to laugh, recalling the events from earlier today.

As you continued to yap about other random things, Matt listened whole heartedly. He was happy to have your company for his nightly shower, and you were happy to finally be spending some quality time with your boyfriend.

[dorapascalstyles]

100 posts!

What

[dorapascalstyles]

has Older!Harry ever had to work later than he thought, maybe running into plans he had with pretty girl?

wordcount: 3k+

—————

"What do you think, H?" 

(Y/N) twirled in front of where Harry sat on his couch, showing off the new dress he had pushed her into rewarding herself with (with his credit card, of course) after getting through midterms. He'd seen the photos online, but she wanted him to get a look at the real thing—see if he liked it on her as much as he said he would. 

Looking up from his phone, he gave her a bright smile. "Sweetheart," he crooned, appraising her with an adoring gaze, "Y'look—" 

His phone buzzed in his hand, the disturbance cutting him off as he was forced to glance down at the device. His features posed into something grim with a set line on his jaw and pursed lips. 

"What is it?" (Y/N) asked, fiddling with her nails with her purse hanging from her wrist. He'd been attached to his phone since he'd come over to pick her up, constantly going back and forth between doling out his attention to her before being taken away by his phone. 

He shook his head much like he had done every other time (Y/N) had asked what had been going on. "Jus' something at the office—trying to figure out what happened." 

"Is it bad?" she asked, sinking into the couch next to him in hopes of skimming a glance at his screen. 

"A little, if it is what I think it is," he murmured distractedly, scrolling through a report (Y/N) had no hopes of recognizing. 

Quietly, she watched as he tapped away, aware of the time ticking down towards their reservations. "Do you think you'll be done before we need to leave?" 

Seemingly suddenly realizing the time, he heaved a sigh. "I hope." 

Just as the words left his mouth, an incoming call colored his screen. 

"Hold on," he told her, rising from his seat with his phone in a tight grip, "If 'm not off the phone by the time we need to leave, come and get me, 'kay?" 

As soon as she gave a nod, Harry had his phone pressed to his ear and was heading upstairs towards his office. His voice was rumbling and low, but she could hear the curt tone even from where she sat. She watched as he disappeared up the staircase before pulling her own phone out. She'd give him ten minutes, she decided—it would be cutting it close to the reservation, but she didn't want to stress him out any more than he obviously already was. 

—————

(Y/N)'s lips thinned as she watched the time tick off one more minute.

6:45pm. 

Harry had been tucked away upstairs for the full of the ten minute timer she had set for him. She hoped the problem wasn't as bad as he had feared, but she had a feeling it was that or much worse. He hated being late for any kind of appointment, so she doubted he had just lost track of time while working. 

Rising to her feet, joints popping from being folded up on his couch while she had waited, she started for the stairs. Her heels clicked over his floors, following her up the case and towards his office. Only a few paces away, she could hear him speaking behind the door. None of the words were clear, but it definitely wasn't a good sign to hear him still on the phone.

She quietly knocked on the door, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. Peering around the wood, she found Harry just as she figured she would: sat behind his desk, features pinched and sharp as he stared at his computer screen with his phone pressed to his ear. 

He hadn't even noticed her peeking in, mumbling something to his associate with his eyes reflecting whatever he was scrolling through on his screen. Clearing her throat, (Y/N) finally gained Harry's attention. 

His features quickly softened at the sight of her. 

"H? Are you ready to go?" she peeped, hoping whoever was on the other end of the call couldn't hear her. 

Lips thinning, he murmured an excuse to his call before pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment. With the receiver pressed to his shoulder, eyes speaking apologies before he'd even shared a word.

"Sweetheart," he started, the syllables floating on a sigh, "I can't leave, yet. 'S worse than I thought." 

While she was sympathetic to whatever he was dealing with—Harry never liked to bring work home if he could help it, especially if it was problem based like this—she couldn't help the way her shoulders deflated some. "Will we still be able to make dinner? It's almost six." 

Harry glanced at the time himself then, hesitating meeting her eyes once more. "I don't know, love. 'M so sorry, I really didn't think it was going to be this complicated." 

"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, already creeping out of the room, "I'll call and see if they have anything later, but don't worry." 

A sad smile wormed its way onto his lips, molding into the apples of his cheeks though the curl didn't meet his eyes. "Thank you, love." 

After offering her own small smile, (Y/N) slipped out of the room with the door clicking behind her. Taking in a deep breath, she slipped her phone out of her bag before pulling up the restaurant's website. She had a feeling, just with how coveted their original reservation was, that there wouldn't be anything else available but she didn't feel like telling Harry that kind of news at the moment. 

Taking in a sigh, (Y/N) started towards the stairs with her phone pressed to her ear. 

"Thank you for calling Elio, how can I help you?" 

"Hi—um—I have a reservation in thirty minutes, but I was wondering if..." 

—————

After shooting off a text to Harry that there wasn't anything else available fore the night, (Y/N) had resigned herself to a night on the couch. Even when he'd answered with a promise that he would figure something out as soon as he fixed whatever was going on, she hadn't bet on the possibility. 

When it came to things like these—problems outside of his control, unanticipated mistakes—Harry had a hard time letting them go until they were back up to his standards. He wouldn't be able to relax enough to spend the night with her, she knew that. Instead she had only messaged him back that she'd be downstairs for him whenever he was ready with a heart emoji tacked on the end. 

That was how she found herself tucked into the cushions of his couch, shoes kicked off under the coffee table, and a fluffy blanket over her lap with one of her reality TV shows on screen. She wasn't paying much attention to the scenes, the episode one she had already seen, instead poking at her phone for entertainment. 

As the time ticked on, closer and closer to Harry having been stuck working for over an hour, part of her wanted to head upstairs and see if she could pry him away. If he finished soon, they could still at least go out somewhere, keeping her dress and makeup from going to waste. But, she could still hear his rumbling voice at times carrying through the walls—he was still stuck on the phone. She could only imagine the kind of stress he was feeling if he was still stuck on the same problem almost an hour later.

Curled on his couch, (Y/N) almost winced when her stomach growled. She had kept herself from snacking after class, knowing she was going to want to have all the room possible for the immaculate dinner Harry had planned. Now, with the time ticking well past their reservations, she was feeling the consequences of her abstinence. 

Though she wasn't particularly keen on the idea of padding upstairs and asking Harry if he would be okay with some takeaway for the night, there wasn't much else she could do. (Harry had been teaching her as much as he could when it came to the kitchen, but that didn't mean that she was particularly good yet). Especially after she had made the choice to indulge in watching too many sushi videos that popped up on her social media—she doubted she could wait for Harry to finish up before scampering off for dinner.

Moving upstairs, (Y/N) paused outside of Harry's office, her ear keen to the door in hopes of finding a good time to pop in. Though she wasn't encouraged at the stretching silence on the other side, there wasn't much of a better time, she decided when she finally knocked on the door.  A responding grumble came from the other side.

Peeking inside, he didn't look much different than when she had seen him last. Now, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hair mussed, but that pinch between his brows lingered with his jaw in a strong set. He looked tired this time when he glanced up at her, the fan of his lashes becoming a drooping frame around his eyes. 

"Sorry," she started, keeping her voice low at the sight of his phone still pressed to his ear, "Um, I was thinking about ordering dinner, if that's alright with you?" 

He took a moment, pulling his phone from his ear, poking at the mute button before clearing his throat. "Are y'sure? If I finish soon, I can still take y'out," he told her, voice softer than what she was sure he was sharing on the phone. 

"It's almost eight-thirty, H," (Y/N) gently reminded him, resting her head on the doorjamb as she gazed at him, "I'm sure you're hungry, too." 

He seemingly suddenly realized there were other things going on than the emails and clients he was dealing with. He deflated after taking in a deep breath. "Right. 'M sorry, (Y/N), really."

"No, it's okay, don't worry. I under—" 

"Mr. Styles, Dean has the group scheduled for a conference call in the morning, but is—" 

"Michael," Harry said, pulling the phone to his ear with the speaker off and mute unselected, "'M going to have to call you back." 

(Y/N) was taken aback at his sudden suggestion, though she continued listening from where she stood at the threshold. She hoped he wasn't ending the call on her account. 

"Ten minutes, and I'll call y'back. Can y'handle that, or do I need to keep holding your hand?" 

Maybe it was a bit harsh, but (Y/N) had to hold back her laughter with her hand stamped over her mouth. It wasn't like her boyfriend at all to snap at anyone, including his colleagues, but she couldn't Balme him after being corralled in his office for over an hour. The man on the other end—Micheael—must have stood down seeing as Harry hung up the call with nothing else to share. 

Plopping the device face down on his desk, Harry pulled in a sigh before fixing his eyes to (Y/N) once more. "C'mere, pretty girl." 

His open arms were an offer as she padded across his office. He collected her against his chest once she had rounded his desk, pulling her as close as he could with her folded in his lap. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, voice low in her ear as she settled her chin on his shoulder with her arms looped around his middle, "I didn't mean to ruin the night, sweetheart." 

"It's not your fault," she reminded him, "And nothing is ruined. Sometimes things like this happen. I'm not mad." 

He pulsed his arms around her, tightening his hug with a kiss pressed to the side of her head. "You're too good to me, love. Thank you." 

Drawing away, (Y/N) shifted until she had his cheeks cradled in her hands. Thumbing at his cheekbones, she attempted to draw a smile out of his solemn features when she squished his cheeks with his lips forced into a puffy pout. Her responding laughter was enough to have him straining against her hands with his own attempting smile. 

"You know I'm never upset to stay home," she told him, leaning forward to peck a kiss to his puckered lips, "It's okay, H." 

"Promise?" he mushed out, words muffled against her squish. 

"Promise," she resounded, giving him another kiss before releasing his cheeks, "I think I'm going to order Chinese, so just come down whenever you're done and it'll be waiting." 

His arms were a cradle around her, one that kept her locked on his lap as he pressed forward and gave her a lingering kiss. "I love you, you know that?" 

"I do," she answered, smiling into his kiss, "I love you, too." 

Though he opened his mouth, prepping to say more, his phone began to buzz on his desk once more. (Y/N) could feel the way he deflated in response, hesitant to answer the call. 

Untangling herself from his lap, she gave him a soft smile. "Finish whatever you need to do, okay? I'll be downstairs whenever you're done." 

His apology was clear on his face without a single word having to be shared. "I'll be fast," he vowed. 

"I know." 

With that, Harry pressed the phone to his ear with a sharp greeting while (Y/N) scurried out of his office. Though she was still tired and hungry, she felt better after getting a chance to talk to him. She doubted he would finish up as fast as he wanted, but she hoped he understood there was no pressure to be felt on her end. 

Chinese food kept perfectly well, anyway.

—————

"Goodnight, Micheal. Have a nice weekend." 

Harry didn't wait for a send off on the other end, hanging up on his coworker as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd heard enough of Micheal's voice to last a lifetime, especially after finding out that this entire mixup was nothing more than a paperwork error he hadn't properly checked the first time. Nonetheless, Harry was just happy to no longer be glued to his phone with his laptop lid shut for the foreseeable future. 

He dreaded to look at the time on his phone, but knew he had no choice. 

10:16pm. 

Sighing at the sight, he pocketed his phone with his joints cracking as he stood from his chair. (Y/N) had been quiet for a while now, no more padding around coming from the floor below for the better part of the last half hour. 

She had been so understanding, letting him disappear and forcing them to cancel their dinner plans only for her to give soft condolences and sweet kisses in response. He hoped she hadn't fallen asleep before he could make it up to her as much as he could. 

Making his way downstairs, the streaming service she had pulled up on his television was paused on one of her favorite shows, the program asking if she was still watching. The coffee table was set up with Chinese takeaway containers, everything clean and sectioned away with his own servings still packaged and warm. He knew what he would find when he peered over the back of the couch, but he still felt a bit of guilt when he saw her wrapped up in a too-small throw blanket on her body and a too-stiff decorative pillow under her head. 

Her hair was clean of every pin she'd used to style it, her dress replaced with comfortable pajamas, and face clean and shining in the low light. She was asleep, her breath coming in small puffs with each line and plane of her features left relaxed. 

He didn't even tell her goodnight. 

Petting his hand over her temple to push stray baby hairs out of her face, he allowed his fingertips to linger over her skin. The warmth of her was enough to thaw the strain he hadn't realized he was still carrying in his muscles. 

This would never get old, he decided. The evidence of her around his home was enough to get his heart kicking against his ribs, but to find her on his couch after a long night was something he hadn't realized he craved until he met her. Though he would prefer to have had more time with her, the stress of the night seemed worth it when he came downstairs to see this. 

If not for the fact he was just as hungry as (Y/N) had guessed by the amount of containers she left out for him, he would have tucked in beside her and slept off the stress. Instead, he settled for kicking off his shoes and heading for the linen closet for a warmer blanket to spread across her form. 

With (Y/N) snuggled under the fleece, he settled himself on the floor beside her. Though it wasn't a show he enjoyed watching without her commentary, Harry still pressed play on the episode she had left off on. He kept the volume low, reaching for the chopsticks that had come with the delivery. 

Twirling a bite of lo mein on the sticks, Harry hesitated before that first bite despite his gnawing stomach. Maybe it was the fact he couldn't get her soft face out of his head the last time she'd come to his office, or the way she had arranged all of his favorites out for him to pick through by the time he came downstairs, but it didn't feel right to have his dinner without her. 

There was no way he was going to wake her up, but that didn't stop him from reaching for the hand she had sticking out from under the blanket. Though it wasn't a particularly comfortable angle, he laced his fingers between hers. His chest warmed when she seemingly recognized his touch, reciprocating his hold as best she could in her sleep before snuggling the back of his hand to her cheek. 

Despite the cooling food in front of him, Harry let his eyes linger on the peaceful set of her features and the way she clung to his hand. A small smile thumbed a dimple into his cheek. 

He'd still be making it up to her tomorrow, but tonight hadn't turned out too bad. 

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas you want to share please send them in!!! if you want to read more you can check out my patreon:)

[dorapascalstyles]

Shit, I think the thing I had for Jake Gyllenhaal is back.

[dorapascalstyles]

could you do one where chris and reader bring their daughter home from the hospital after she's just born? i love your writings!!!!

My Girl, C. Sturniolo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: In which bringing your and Chris's first baby home from the hospital results in a core memory<3

Pairing: Chris x feminine reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of a difficult labor and its effects (not graphic!), young parents

Word Count: 974

A/N: Y'all my baby fever has been so bad lately (I'm 19 and single 🤡) and dad!Chris did NOT help. Thank you for the request and you cuties enjoy a fluffy Chris fic<33

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Chris gently lifted the enormous, pink carseat out of the back of the car, hoisting it onto his arm. He was beyond exhausted from the past three days. Granted, all he had ever wanted in life was to be a father, especially when you would be the mother. And so, he picked up the car seat with renewed energy, coming around the side of the car and opening up your door. 

“You good, ma?” he asked you, protective instincts kicking in as he watched you struggle to unbuckle your seat and step out of the car. 

“I just had a baby, dumbass. My hips are killing me and I’m wearing a diaper. What do you think the answer is?”

Between a long labor, the hustle and bustle of the hospital, and the typical aches and pains that came post-birth, you were a bit snappy after the events of the past three days. Nevertheless though, you planted a kiss on Chris’s cheek, eliciting a grin from your husband. 

“Glad to see the pregnancy didn’t take that fiery attitude I love so much.” Chris smiled, wrapping his arm around you to support you as you slowly walked with one hand and carrying the carseat that held your sleeping daughter in the other. 

 You two slowly began the trek up your front steps, with Chris supporting you the whole way. But before you could open the front door, it was flung open for you, revealing Nick and Matt. They stepped out quickly, eager to get a glimpse of their new niece. They exchanged squeals over how cute your baby girl was until Chris finally shoved them off, protective over his little family. 

“Can we get inside first?” he asked, rolling his eyes then smiling at you affectionately. 

The brothers allowed you to step inside the house, where both your and Chris’s parents were waiting, slightly more polite than his brothers. You quickly sat down on the couch with the help of your husband, winded from the short walk up the driveway. Chris quickly placed your daughter in your arms and sat beside you with a proud smile as everyone else gathered around on your large couch and on the rug. 

“So, have you two decided on a name?” Your mother asked excitedly, her eyes shining with joy. 

“We have,” You and Chris looked at each other and smiled as your daughter yawned in your arms, smacking her little lips. “Charlotte Marie Sturniolo.” You said in unison. 

Just as you spoke, Charlotte opened her eyes and yawned, letting out a tiny coo. Luckily, your families had been very respectful of your and Chris’s boundaries about holding her, especially since flu season was currently rampant. That didn’t deter anyone from letting out noises of affection at their new daughter, niece, and granddaughter, though. In your comical families, however, cute moments didn’t last long, which led to Nick piping up. 

“Can you say Lady Gaga?” he asked. “La-dy Ga-ga.”

Chris rolled his eyes, playfully kicking his brother, which received a giggle from you. “She’s a newborn.”

“I’m raising her to have culture.” Nick shrugged, flipping his hair across his forehead. 

As everyone continued to talk, your husband noted how you (and Charlotte) had become more quiet, snuggling into his side. He knew the whole birthing process had been extremely difficult on you, and selfishly, he really wanted some alone time with his little family. 

“Should we go upstairs?” he asked you, whispering in your ear and brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. 

You nodded softly, already on the verge of falling asleep as you felt your infant daughter snuggle into you. “Yes please.” You whispered back.

“Well, we would love to keep chatting, but duty calls,” Chris helped you stand up, adjusting Charlotte so she could still cuddle onto your chest. “My girls need me.”

By the time you two had made it upstairs, you were exhausted, but could still hear the talking of your family below, murmuring softly about what great parents you two already were. Granted, it had only been a few days, but in your opinion, you both already were. Despite being on the younger side, you and Chris both loved your daughter with your whole heart, and that was what you wanted the most. 

“Thanks for what you did back there,” You yawned as Chris tucked you into bed after placing Charlotte, who was fast asleep, in her crib. “I’m really tired.” 

“I could tell,” Your husband bustled around the room, straightening things up to lessen the load on your plate. “You’re so strong, baby.”

You were almost asleep, but you could sense that Chris had stopped moving, which with your husband, meant he was up to something. “Chris? Baby, what are you doing?”

You peeked open your eyes, only for your heart to practically burst. Chris had taken his shirt off and removed your daughter’s onesie, allowing her to cuddle skin-to-skin on his chest. He smiled over at you as she yawned, fisting his skin. 

“Look!” he whisper-shouted with the biggest smile on his face. “We’re cuddling!” 

You smiled, enjoying the scene before you. “She looks so cozy.”

Chris began to sway and dance softly, singing ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations quietly. “My baby girl. God, I love you so much. You and your mommy are my rock, honey.”

You could hear the happy tears in your husband’s voice as he sang to Charlotte, and that was the moment you knew that you had made the right choice for the father of your children. Chris had been nothing but supportive throughout your whole pregnancy and labor, and it was clear he was carrying that energy into fatherhood as well. You took a mental snapshot, filing away this moment for later because you knew this would always be one you came back to.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @idek3000hi @melguilbert @oobleoob

[dorapascalstyles]

Neverending Texts

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Rafe's small crush on his tutor definitely doesn't lead him to text her a little too much.

A/N: Insipred by this post.

Masterlist

Rafe’s education is not a responsibility Y/N ever expected to have on her plate. However, tutoring seems like a no-brainer for the girl who likes teaching and it is not like she could say no to Ward Cameron. Plus, Ward offered her an insane rate and even though her parents are rich, it is still nice to make her own spending money. Rafe and Y/N’s relationship is odd, to say the least. He always seems to have an interest in her, while she would rather be kept out of his social circle. This dynamic is only intensified by Rafe getting her number to set up tutoring sessions. He’ll often send her random texts that are so out of pocket, but she knows he is trying to invoke a conversation between the two of them. During all hours of the day, she will randomly receive jokes, facts, or gossip from the boy. Her responses were always a single word, not inviting the discussion to go any further. It never deterred him from trying every day though. Her hand shoves the hook through the stitch and the hook grasps onto some yarn to be pulled through. The buzz from her phone freezes her hands. She picks up the device and lets out a breath with a shake of her head. What is your ideal date? Normally, his texts would allow her a one-word answer; however, this one can’t be answered as such and she feels bad if she ignores it. 

She takes a second to think about her reply. Baking pizza with extra mushrooms and a movie night. Maybe watch rom-coms. She sets her phone back on the desk and goes back to her crochet project. 

———

He is pleasantly surprised she gives a thoughtful answer to the text. It seems his tactic of open-ended questions has worked. It doesn’t shock him that her idea of a prime date is something more intimate. Y/N has always been more reserved, so it makes sense she would prefer one-on-one time with her date. He likes that. That sounds like the perfect date, except for the extra mushrooms. We’ll have to only put it on half of the pizza.

Who said you were invited?

He chuckles at her retort and shakes his head. Why is there someone else you are dying to go out with? He holds his breath at her reply, not wanting her to say what he thinks she might. The little bubble with three dots displays her effort to rejoin. It stops eventually and no new words appear in a new bubble. He bites the corner of his lips as his thumb hovers over the button. He decides to bite the bullet, bringing the phone to his ear. It dials three times before she picks up. “Wow, moving on to phone calls to tell me your random thoughts. You really are getting more persistent, Cameron,” she teases. He can hear something clatter on the other end, “Can you blame a guy for wanting to hear your voice, Teach?” She giggles with a sigh. “What did you need?” she urges. He shrugs, “I told you. I just wanted to hear your voice. I also wanted you to answer my question and to hear if you are lying.” “Why do you care so much?” she questions, rolling her eyes. 

“Because if you don’t have anyone else on your mind, then I was hoping I could be the one to take you on that date.” 

“I have no one else, but why me? What makes me so special in your mind?”

“You just have this je ne sais quoi to you that I can’t get out of my mind. We just click, Teach, and I know you can’t deny it.”

———

She traces the surface of her desk with her crochet hook as she tries to focus on his words. “I know you can’t deny it.” She would never admit she felt the spark he was talking about. It’s been something she tries to bury deep inside of herself because their personality dynamic would not make sense. Rafe likes all eyes on him and to be as loud as possible, whilst Y/N enjoys a quiet night in. The more she thinks about it, the faster her heart starts to beat, telling her to say yes. Yes to a chance at love. Yes to opening herself up to someone else. Yes to stepping outside of her comfort zone. “Okay, let’s go on a date.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[dorapascalstyles]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

[dorapascalstyles]

overheard

Eddie Munson x fem!Henderson!Reader (NSFW)

pt two

Synopsis: Bringing Dustin's laundry into his room is usually a fairly uneventful task, especially when he's not there. But when he leaves his radio on and Eddie's slurred words sneak through the static, you overhear something you know you're not supposed to. How the hell are you supposed to react the next time you see Eddie after you accidentally overhear him saying he had a sex dream about you?

Warnings: nsfw content; reader described as having long hair; dom!eddie, sub!reader, dirty talk, detailed dirty dreams, Eddie’s got you cockdrunk, hair pulling, hickies, Eddie has a big dick, Eddie’s a goddamn tease too, fucking on all fours, mirror sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, anal fingering, creampie, unprotected sex

Word Count: 11.3k

A/N: surprise :) a raunchy wet dream fic with eddie! Hope you like it!

Whenever Dustin was out of the house, he knew to leave the electronics in his room off. And normally, they were. It was known in your house that a quiet room signified no Dustin. So when you were folding laundry in the living room and you heard the muffled sound of talking coming down the hallway, you assumed Dustin was home. 

But to your surprise, when you knocked on his door to deliver his folded clothes a few minutes later, there was no answer. No not now or some exasperated what? There was just…no response. 

Confused, you slowly opened Dustin's door and peered in. Lights were off, the bed was made, a few toys had been left out, but no Dustin. No Dustin, but there was certainly someone talking through the damn radio he had left on. 

You sighed, dropping the laundry basket onto his bed and starting to separate the presorted stacks to put them away. You didn't touch Dustin's radio. Neither you nor your mom did—you were both told it was off-limits. Besides, Dustin knew the rules. If it was on, it was probably on for a reason. 

“No, man, you don’t understand.” 

You stopped, Dustin's shirt drawer opened. The transmission was a little staticky, but you knew that voice. 

“Mm, Munson, what could I possibly not understand?” 

You slowly lowered the stack of Dustin’s shirts. The second voice was a little recognizable, but you couldn’t put it to a face. 

“It was a fantastic fucking dream. Like Jesus Christ.” Eddie’s words were slurred significantly. No way he wasn’t shitfaced. “Can’t get it out of my head.”

“Yeah?” The friend’s words were just as slurred. “Shit, this about a special girl we don’t know about, Eddie?”

“Nah." Eddie shifted, his voice a little clearer when he spoke again. "Way outta my league. Off-limits. Isn't going to stop me from dreaming, though."

  “Best way to do it.” There was the sound of cans being kicked across a floor. “Hold on, I have to take a leak.”

There was a fairly long pause as you walked Dustin's pajamas over to his dresser. Then his socks and boxers. You were picking up the empty laundry basket when Eddie spoke again. Silent little murmurs to himself, sneaking through the static and engulfing you like a feather might down your spine. 

“Shit, I can still feel her lips. Poetic shit. Her hands everywhere. The gasps. So warm and sweet. Tasted like goddamn vanilla and felt fucking amazing. Like perfect. In my bed, too. Un-fucking-fair.” The sound of another can opening hissed. Some distant sounds of skin against skin, quick movements and the jingling of metal. “Get outta my damn head, Henderson.” 

The laundry basket bounced on the floor as you stared at Dustin’s desk. Down the hall, the front door opened and closed and you could already hear Dustin rushing inside, his footsteps loud and quick. Frantically, you lunged towards his desk, prayed you had the right button for the off switch—you did—and scooped up the laundry basket. 

You were leaving Dustin’s room just as he was zooming up to it. He gave you an accusatory look before his eyes fell to the empty laundry basket. You tried to feign annoyance at his annoyance and said nothing as you turned and walked back towards the living room. The rest of the laundry sat folded on the coffee table. 

“Forget something?” You didn’t look up from your own piles of clothing as Dustin left his room. 

"Yes. No. Doesn't matter. Thanks for folding my laundry." 

“Mhm. Don’t forget to be back by ten. I’ll never hear the end of it from mom if she wakes up and knows you stayed out past curfew.” 

“Then don’t let her find out.” Dustin threw the front door open. “Awesome? Bye.” 

“Yeah, bye.” 

You fell back onto the couch once the door slammed shut. A hammering heart made it hard to hear anything else. Not your thoughts, though. Definitely not those. 

You peered down the hallway at Dustin’s door. 

What the fuck had you just heard?  

No doubt it was Eddie. Hearing Munson kept you from that ignorant bliss. So, it’d been Eddie—a very drunk Eddie. Like incredibly intoxicated and potentially not thinking straight. Which meant, it was entirely possible that he’d been confused regarding what he was saying. 

He was a horny guy—all horny guys had dirty dreams. 

But Eddie had one about you. 

You stood up abruptly, grabbing your clothes and speeding to your room. Your door closed a little too loudly as you pressed your back against it. Too many thoughts. Heart was racing too fast. Hands were shaking as they held the plastic basket. 

Eddie Munson had a sex dream about you. 

The same Eddie Munson who played D&D with your younger brother. The same guy who everyone had been and was currently still afraid of at school. According to Dustin, at least.

He was the same guy who was known for illegal activity and questionable morality. Who wore those damn silver rings, chains, and that pick necklace he fiddled with while thinking. Or the jean vest he'd altered himself and the leather jacket he wore everywhere. That stupid bandana he kept in his back pocket and his handcuff belt.

And that unkempt, wavy, gorgeous hair. 

You shoved your underwear into your drawer. The rest of your clothes followed. 

You paced your room, ran your hands through your hair, huffed as you tried to desperately think up excuses for what you'd heard. Because there was no way in hell Eddie had a sex dream about you. 

No, it wasn’t possible for Eddie to be so hung up on it. 

You’d be lying if you said you’d never had a sex dream. Doubly so if you tried to claim you’d never had one about the Dungeon Master himself. But it meant something if you were hung up on it—it always meant something if you were hung up on a passing sex dream. 

And you had been—but you were good at pretending you weren’t. 

There was no fucking way Eddie was hung up on his. Not with you. Not about you. 

Eddie never gave you special treatment. He treated you exactly how he treated everyone else. You bantered, you bickered, he tried to be scary and you always tried to brush him off. They were mostly passing meetings, which typically attested to how your conversations went. There was never any tell that Eddie ever looked at you as more than Dustin's older sister who he just sometimes talked to. 

No damn way he liked you. 

And that bastard. He managed to infiltrate your mind after that. 

The rest of the evening, as you tried to find tasks to pass the time, waiting to make sure Dustin got home safe, you just kept thinking about Eddie. His forearms whenever he'd shrug his jacket off, the ink tatted into his skin. You'd only had a few opportunities to see it, and as the night passed, you realized how badly you wanted to trace those stupid tattoos with your fingers. 

Oh, and that stupid smile. That stupid goddamn smile he always had locked and loaded. Heart-melting. He had to know it was. And paired with those big, soft brown eyes that he could easily turn intimidating? Like a damn flame to the heart. 

You were sitting angrily in the living room when Dustin came home, twenty minutes past curfew. But you said nothing except goodnight when he came in. You stormed off to your room and climbed into bed, curling up with a stuffed animal as you tried to think through what the hell you were supposed to do tomorrow. 

You had to pick Dustin, Mike, and Lucas up after they went out to eat with the D&D group. Picking up from school was easier because you could park outside in the same spot and they'd go to you. Any interactions you might have with Eddie would be severely limited. At a restaurant, though?

You’d have to go inside and find them. 

Fucking fantastic. 

You hadn't gotten much sleep. Eddie hadn't just infiltrated your thoughts—the bastard had slipped into your dreams. He was all teasing little innuendos that made you feel like you were left out to stand in the summer's heat. Fingers fixing your hair and accidentally grazing your cheeks. Thighs pressing together under tables, and Eddie taking your arm and drawing aimless doodles onto your skin. Each drag of the pen drew goosebumps to the surface, tickling with soft strokes. One hand held you still, the other drew and drew and drew until you were holding your breath. 

You jerked awake as Eddie was leaning forward and fixing one of your earrings, straddling the bench the two of you sat at. No more than an inch of space was between you, and one hand went to your upper thigh as he turned your earring right side up. 

“Damn it.” You threw your covers aside, a twisting burn in your stomach keeping you rooted in your bed for a few moments too long. Your knees pressed together to satiate the pressure between them. “Damn it.”

You weren’t exactly angry. Frustrated and confused were closer. Completely baffled and horny also fit. But you weren’t exactly as patient with customers as you could’ve been while at work. Your manager was real quick to move you from the help desk to shelving books at the library after you were short with three customers. 

Unfortunately, the mood remained by the time you were off work. Because by then? You only had a short amount of time to yourself before you had to go pick up the guys. And you'd spent an irritating amount of time trying to figure out what outfit to wear. You never cared before—but one little bit of information from Eddie and you were staring at the fourth outfit idea in your mirror. 

It had to be the one you chose because you were already running late. 

Even though you pulled in five minutes late to the parking lot, you still sat in the car for a few minutes. Eddie's van was parked a few spots down, a reminder of who was going to be inside when you went in. But you had to go in, couldn't delay it any longer. So you scrunched your face, groaned, shook your head, and then climbed out of the car. 

The restaurant was busy. A local burger joint with cheap meals made it impossible to never be busy. But thankfully, Hellfire stood out with their loud antics and matching shirts. Unfortunately, as you spotted them, you noticed Eddie first. Fortunately, he was engulfed in conversation about something you couldn't make out from there. 

Dustin was the first to notice you when you approached. 

“Oh, shit. Is it time already?” He peered down at his half-full plate. The rest of the plates were also still covered with food. “Hi.”

“Oh shit, it’s big sister Henderson,” Gareth said. 

Mike and Lucas greeted you in unison, the two other members of Hellfire waved. Eddie, however, dropped his head onto his knuckles and batted his eyelashes up at you.

“Been a while since we’ve seen you, Henderson.” He mockingly scrunched his nose. “Missed you.”

You gave him a tight smile, trying not to recall his slurred words over the radio. Or your dreams of him. Or just any heart-racing feelings regarding him. But it was hard.

"Hi." You turned to Dustin, who was already giving you puppy dog eyes, his hands framing his plate. You sighed; the last thing you wanted to do was be a buzzkill. "I've had a long day, Dustin." 

“Please,” he tried to whisper it, and even Mike and Lucas gave you a be cool look. “Like twenty more minutes.”

“Here.” Eddie jumped up from his chair and jerked it to the side, holding it out for you. His hands rested on the back as he stood behind it, leaning his weight on it. “Join us.” 

You were so tempted to say no. To say something dismissive and waiting it out in the car. But ruining the kids’ night wasn’t on your to-do list simply because you were in your own head about Eddie. So you took a few stiff steps over and plopped into Eddie’s chair, holding your breath as he pushed it in. 

He stole an unused one from a nearby table and saddled up beside you, dragging his plate in front of him. He dipped a fry in ketchup and held it up to you, his smile sly and teasing. When you didn't take it, his eyes narrowed slightly before he popped it into his mouth, turning his attention back to their D&D campaign talk. 

You weren't listening, skillfully zoning out as you watched everyone else in the restaurant. When the waiter came back and asked if you wanted anything, you ordered nothing more than a water despite your stomach clearly grumbling from a lack of a lunch and a missed dinner to get Dustin. A few minutes after the waiter brought your drink, Eddie shoved his half-finished plate in front of you and sat back. 

“Full. Would hate for it to go to waste.” He drummed his fingers on the table and you watched the rings a little too closely before finally giving in and taking a fry. 

Eddie smirked behind his soda as you continued to pick at his food. You blatantly ignored him until you couldn’t anymore, nearly choking on your sip of water when he shifted in his seat, legs spreading underneath the table and his knee touched yours. 

It was nothing more than casual contact. You’d be reading way too much into it if you looked at it as his excuse to touch you. But your body reacted despite what your mind screamed. So when you tried to ignore his knee touching yours, your body decided to mock you and hone in on the contact. Like how warm he was even through his jeans. 

There was only so much you could take and you jerked your knee away, crossing your legs and turning them away from Eddie. You kept your eyes off of him as much as you could for the rest of the dinner, clenching your jaw whenever he'd lean forward to talk to Mike next to you. Every time he did, his hand would rest on the table, and he'd get close enough for his arm to brush against yours and while you were trying to compose yourself from that contact, you'd be hit with the mixture of cigarette smoke, faint weed, and aftershave.

Holding your breath wasn’t possible because they had the grand idea to try and include you in the conversation. Even though your responses were never more than one-word confused responses, it still meant you had to breathe. Which meant you had to acknowledge how good Eddie smelled. 

Dustin's twenty minutes ended up being forty, and the second they paid the bill and started to stand, you were already up from your chair and excusing yourself. You needed fresh air and you needed distance between you and Eddie. Sitting beside him made it exceptionally difficult to keep yourself out of your head which had betrayed you yet again. 

Where you managed to keep your mind separate from your touch-starved body by yourself, Eddie being added to the mix completely fucked you over. All those little teasing dreams escalated despite your best efforts. The worst one became Eddie leaning close to slide his hand up your thigh as his mouth went to your neck, permanently tainting the earring dream. 

You didn’t exactly smoke, but as you stood leaning against the car, waiting for the trio of guys to come out, you really wished you’d had a cigarette. Would’ve given you something to do with your idle hands. Would’ve been a good distraction when Eddie was the first to come out and he cocked a brow as your eyes met. 

You were insanely jealous of the cigarette he lit as he hopped down the curb and sauntered up to you. 

“Everything alright there, Henderson?” He blew the smoke towards the restaurant. “Seem, uh, tenser than usual.”

His eyes held yours as he lifted the cigarette again and you watched a little too closely as his lips pursed around the end. Your control lasted as long as his exhale and you snatched the thing from his fingers. 

“Long fucking day.” You avoided eye contact as you inhaled, trying not to cough. You weren’t inexperienced, but you weren’t experienced either. 

“Didn’t know you were a smoker, Henderson.” 

"I'm not." You gave it back as the door opened and you watched your brother and his friends file out, laughing along with the rest of the members of Hellfire. You made sure your hands didn't touch as Eddie took the cigarette back. "Ready, guys?"

You dug out the keys and jerked the car door open, making Eddie have to stagger away to not get hit. 

His hand caught the door, pointlessly holding it open for you, and you climbed in. He gave you a pointed smile when you reached out to grab it and you tore your gaze away and gave him an impatient expression until he closed it. Dustin climbed into the passenger seat as you started the car, grinding your teeth as Eddie waved bye. 

You didn’t talk as you drove the guys home, nor when you drove back home with your brother. Even when he shifted from talking about his day to trying to get you to talk about yours. 

“Don’t want to talk about it, Dustin,” you muttered as you pulled into your driveway. 

"Really? Cause it seems like whatever it was really pissed you off. Don't want to talk about it with me? I could buzz Suzy. You know, you could have some girl talk and—"

“Dustin, I’m fine.” You sighed, turning the car off. “I just didn’t have a lot of free time after work today and then I had to go hang out at the restaurant…”

“Wait, I thought you liked hanging out with the group?’ He narrowed his eyes. “I recall you saying you ‘surprisingly’ didn’t hate the Hellfire members.” 

“I don’t hate them.” 

“Really?” Dustin slid out of the car, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “You don’t hate any of them?”

“No, I’m just tired. Why would you say I hate them?” 

“Because you were giving Eddie a pretty gnarly cold shoulder today.” Dustin had a damn good accusatory look and you purposefully avoided it. “Why?”

"I wasn't giving Eddie the cold shoulder," you lied, fumbling with your keys. 

“Bullshit. That’s exactly what you were giving him. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, either. We all did.” He saddled up next to you. “So come on, spill it. What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” you said with a smile, meeting Dustin’s accusatory look with a smug one, throwing the front door open.

“Oh, Dusty! You’re home!” Your mother’s voice carried easily from the living room. “Tell me, how was your day, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Dusty. Gotta tell mom about your day.”

Dustin glared at you as you practically skipped inside, going directly to the bathroom to shower. The desire to wash all possible remnants of Eddie seemed like a good idea until the steaming water skated over you. The vanilla of your soap swirled with the steam and Eddie’s slurred words snuck through under the crack of the bathroom door. 

“Tasted like goddamn vanilla and felt fucking amazing.”

You tilted your head back and groaned. You didn’t even bother fighting the fantasy of your hands being Eddie’s tracing over every bare inch of you as you washed your body. 

You had to jerk the water to cold before you could wash the suds off as the ache between your legs came back. 

“Fuck.” You sat on the edge of your tub, wrapped in a towel. “I’m fucked.”

You dreamed of Eddie that night, too. There was no beginning, no lead-up to how you ended up with your back against your car. No warning to feeling Eddie's mouth against your neck, his hair tickling your skin, that sweet aftershave scent swallowing you. You just went from darkness to Eddie pinning you against your car and absolutely ravishing you. 

He stopped beneath your ear, his hand skating down over your waist. His voice was a whisper as he played lazily with the buckle of your belt. 

“Less tense now, aren’t ya?” 

You woke up to your alarm and smacked it hard enough to hurt your hand. It smelled like bacon, eggs, and pancakes and after a dinner of Eddie’s leftover fries, you threw yourself out of bed. Dustin was just crawling out of bed as you plated your food, trying to compartmentalize everything as he sat down. His shift from Sleepy Dustin to Detective Dustin was almost instant as he said his good mornings and threw some pancakes onto his plate. 

“So.” He took a sip of his milk. “Gonna talk about your behavior last night?”

You looked up at him skeptically.

“Behavior? Oh, sweetie, what happened?” Your mother leaned over and looked at you with wide, caring eyes. 

“Nothing,” you said sternly to Dustin. To your mother, you switched to a sweeter tone. “Just had a long shift so I was a little short with the guys when I picked them up. Nothing pancakes can’t fix.” 

“Yeah, uh-huh.” Dustin nodded as he clearly didn’t believe you. “Sure.” 

“Yup.” You stole another pancake. “I work the afternoon shift tonight, by the way. I switched with a coworker. He needed it off for a birthday party for his niece.” 

“Oh, will you be home for dinner?” Your mother reached down to pet your cat. 

“No. Won’t be off until seven. But I can grab something on the way home.” 

“I’ll be sure to leave some leftovers out just in case.” Your mother smiled and turned to Dustin, the topic smoothly changing to what Dustin’s plans for the day were. You gave him a tight smile when his suspicious glare stayed. 

Dustin's plans consisted of hanging out with Mike and Lucas, talking to Suzie, and maybe going to rent a movie and bothering Steve and Robin if they were working. Unfortunately, it also consisted of Dustin stopping you on your way out to give you a notebook that looked like it had seen better days. It was filled with stray papers, and the cover had doodles of spiders, skulls, and different weapons on it. 

“Need a favor.” Dustin gave you his staple meddling smile. “You go by Eddie’s to and from work. This somehow ended up in my bag yesterday and if he plans on graduating, he’s going to need it for homework.” 

“Seriously? Make him come get it.”

"Really? Eddie coming here? How do you think mom would react?" He gave you those damn puppy dog eyes as he held it out. "You can drop it off after, leave it on his front porch. He probably already knows I have it, but I'll radio him and let him know it's being dropped off. Please.”

You knew better than to give in to Dustin’s meddling, but doing him a favor meant he owed you a favor. Only on a technical sense, but sometimes you needed those backup favors. 

You snatched the notebook out of his hand. 

“Fine. I’ll drop it off after work. I’ll just leave it on his front porch.”

“Thank you,” Dustin sang, stepping aside with extra flair as you moved into the hallway. “Appreciate it!”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

You swallowed back the nerves as you stared down at the notebook. 

Damn it. 

Muttering bye to your mom, you kept your eyes on the particularly good doodle of a sword. You jerked the front door open and followed the path to your car by memory. 

You could get away with just dropping it off. That’d be easy. Dustin would probably tell Eddie you were dropping it off outside sometime after work, Eddie would already be baked or drunk or gone, and you wouldn’t have to see him. Then, you wouldn’t have to be alone with him. And you wouldn’t have to force those confused feelings down. 

The same ones that crept over the back of your neck and hovered over your thoughts during work. During the whole damn shift. Just Eddie, Eddie, and goddamn Eddie. 

You were going crazy by your lunch break, unable to get rid of the dreamy feeling of Eddie’s mouth on your neck, body pressed against yours, hands on your hips. Or his drunken words slurring through the radio that you obviously weren’t supposed to hear. Even if denial tried to convince you that Eddie still hadn’t meant you. 

By the end of your shift, that ability to compartmentalize and that loose grip you had on your control were gone. Eddie Munson was like a damn grease fire and you had no hope of snuffing it out. Every time you tried to shove the growing fantasies down, they came back stronger. Spreading over you like you were standing near the dangerous flames. Hair singed, a bottle of water in hand, spraying it with failing hope that you’d stop thinking about Eddie.

Eddie sneaking in through your bedroom window. Eddie guiding you down to your bed, finally satiating the curiosity of what he tasted like. Eddie eying your unlocked bedroom door made of such a thin wood that neither of you could make any noise. 

It was him sliding your shorts off, kissing your moans away as his fingers skated over your underwear. The rings were cold against your burning skin even through the damp fabric, and Eddie shushed you as you whined. Then his fingers were sliding underneath, between your folds, pressing against your entrance. 

The sounds that came from his fingers fucking you were absolutely obscene and Eddie fucking loved every second of it. 

Fuck. 

You slammed your car door shut and leaned your head back against your headrest. That fantasy had been playing on repeat for the last two hours. Each cycle, details shifted slightly. Maybe Eddie's hand would go to your throat and squeeze. Or maybe he'd have you on all fours instead. But one thing always remained: you never got to cum. 

Not because Eddie couldn’t make you, but every time the fantasy reached the pinnacle moment, your body reacted accordingly. A building pleasure throbbed between your legs, begged for even the slightest bit of friction. Just a little bit to satisfy it. To mimic what Fantasy Eddie was giving you. 

By the time you clocked out, you'd been close to excusing yourself to the bathroom to just allow yourself a few moments of relief. But not at work. You could have that much self-control. 

Didn’t stop you from sitting in the parking lot with the AC blasting before heading to Eddie’s. 

Still drove with your thighs as pressed together as you could manage, flexing them every so often. It wasn’t enough, but it held you over as you pulled up to Eddie’s trailer where—damn it—his van was parked. His little outside light was on, too.  

After a few steadying breaths, you grabbed Eddie's notebook and climbed out of your car. But you made a few mistakes. 

Number one was turning your car off. Number two was closing your car door. Number three was not just tossing Eddie's notebook onto the porch from the base of the steps. Number four was squatting down to put his notebook in front of his door. And number five was not moving when the door opened and you trailed your eyes up Eddie's frame. 

“Hey there, Henderson,” he mused, leaning with his arms crossed. 

“Hi.” You gulped. Eddie with his hair pulled up, in a shirt that looked a little too small and jeans with a few more rips than you’d seen before? Stole your fucking breath away. “Dustin asked me to drop this off.” 

“Makes sense.” He eyed you carefully as you stood, handing him his notebook. “Thanks.”

“Yup.” You needed to get out of there. You were already taking some uneven steps back, miscalculating where the steps were. But you needed to get away from Eddie. He was doing things to your heart that you weren’t sure you could handle. “Night, Munson.”

Although that goodnight turned into a little yelp as you misstepped, thinking there was more porch where there were really steps. And instead of falling on your ass and tumbling down the old wood, two hands caught your arms. 

“Woah, careful there, Henderson. Don’t gotta speed outta here, I don’t bite.” Eddie was way too close. Close like he was in your dream. Close like he was in your damn fantasies. And it definitely didn’t help when he righted you, but didn’t step back, and his voice dropped to an almost tender whisper. “You alright?”

"Yeah," you mumbled, breathing a little too quickly than was expected for the situation. "Fine." 

When your eyes dropped to his mouth and when that throbbing made itself clear throughout your body, you wrenched yourself from his grip. You took the steps two at a time and nearly slipped on the gravel. 

“Thanks, Eddie. I’ll see you—”

“What’d I do?” 

You stopped, driver's door open. 

Mistake number six was looking back up to his porch, seeing him standing there with his arms crossed. He was trying to hide it, but there was hurt behind his expression. Baffled, heart-wrenching hurt. 

You weighed your options. 

“Help me out here, Henderson.” He glanced down at his feet and licked his lips. When he shook his head, you got to see his messy bun, the hair tie struggling to hold his hair up. “Gotta know what I did so I don’t repeat it.”

You smacked the top of the car in quick succession before you took a few steps back. You didn't close the door, but spun, taking in dark trailers around you. Nobody else was out and the night was fairly still besides the barking dog across the road. 

Those options were fairly uneven in weight, one side being heavily weighed down by that damn expression Eddie gave you. And the small strain in his voice was like ice in your veins. 

"You didn't do anything. Not on purpose. Or with purpose." You pinched the bridge of your nose and faced Eddie. "You didn't…it wasn't…damn it.”

“So…I didn’t do…anything?” Eddie cleared his throat. “Need a bit more clarification.” 

You pressed your mouth into a harsh line, trying to figure out the best way to navigate the situation. There were only so many ways you could figure out how to say it, and despite trying to wrangle the words into something gentle, they burst out of you. 

“Dustin’s radio was on the other night when I was putting his clothes away and I think you sat on a radio on the same channel and I overheard you drunkenly rambling to your friend.” Your hands were shaking as you held them up, adding pointless hand motions to try and clarify your story. “Friend went to the bathroom and you kept talking to yourself and you’d been talking about this dream you’d had. And I know you were pretty drunk, Eddie, so it could’ve been the alcohol talking.”

Before you even said it, the realization dawned on Eddie almost instantly. One hand went to his face as he sighed, taking a step back and shaking his head. He cursed under his hand, his voice soft but strained.

“Shit. Shit.” He leaned back against the side of his trailer. “What exactly did you hear, Henderson?”

“You, uh.” You took a slow breath and met his gaze. You wished you had some ice to douse your cheeks with. “Had a sex dream about me.” 

Eddie raised a fist and turned, slamming his palm against the side of his trailer. His head dropped against it with a soft bang and he nodded. 

“Yeah. Yup. That tracks. ‘Kay. Makes a lot more sense now.” 

“Eddie, it isn’t…”

“Nope, it’s fine.” His head fell back and he turned slowly, giving you a bittersweet smile. “Don’t worry about it, Henderson. If I’d known, I would’ve kept my distance. Wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have made you sit by me last night if I’d known.” 

“Shit, Eddie.” You rubbed the back of your head. “It’s not…you didn’t…damn it. Okay.”

“Don’t gotta try and make me feel better, Henderson. Should’ve been more careful where I sat.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Eddie.” You closed your car door. You weren’t entirely sure why you did, you needed to get home, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “Got nothing to do with you…I mean, not like that.” 

“Yeah,” he said slowly, eyes going from your closed door to his open trailer door. He backed towards it and leaned against the door as if it might close if he didn’t. “Might need a bit more of an explanation, Henderson.” 

“Yeah. I guessed that.”

Mistake number seven was going into the trailer. 

It was your first time inside. Driven past it many times on your way to work; even had to drop some stuff off for Dustin, Mike, and Lucas before. But never been inside. 

It smelled exactly how you expected—stale beer, weed, smoke, with a hint of air freshener sneaking through. It smelled somewhat like lavender. Coffee, too. Coffee snuck out of a fresh pot on their small kitchen counter.

Eddie was idly picking up random bits of trash and clutter as he moved from the front door into the kitchen where he tossed them into a bag-less bin. He leaned against the counter, hands gripping the edge until his knuckles were white. It was a clear setup to put distance between you as you found yourself leaning against the back of his couch. 

A glance back showed the antenna of a walkie-talkie sticking out of one of the couch cushions. You reached down and fished it out, holding the thing up to show Eddie. The batteries were dead, but it was still clearly left on. 

“Think this is the culprit,” you muttered, adding on a dry laugh. “But, Eddie, it…give me a second. Words aren’t exactly forming sentences how I want them to.”

He simply nodded as you dropped the walkie-talkie back onto the couch. It bounced once, allowing you an extra few seconds to figure out how you were going to get yourself out of the predicament. What the hell were you supposed to tell him? His accidental confession has been haunting you in unexpected ways? If you did that, you’d have to confess your confusing feelings and you weren’t sure how that would go. 

You hadn’t thought that far ahead. 

“I…listen.” You sighed and looked around Eddie’s trailer before finally looking at him. “Just freaked me out for a bit at first, that’s all. I went from hearing that to having to go spend dinner with you guys with not much time in between to figure out stuff in my head. So it was all I could think about when I was sitting there. Next to you. For almost an hour.” 

Eddie’s grip twitched on the counter. 

“I wasn’t trying to give you the cold shoulder. I’d just spent the whole day trying to work through these stupid thoughts that you were the main character of and I guess my attempt at trying to counteract them was to ignore you. I’m sorry.”

Eddie nodded, eyes downcast at your feet. His lips pursed as those eyes drew up your legs, over your torso, all the way to yours. That throbbing was back. 

“What kinda thoughts?” 

“I’m sorry?” You laughed nervously, clearly aware of what he was asking. 

“Those stupid thoughts. Call me curious about what made you recoil from even touching me.”

“I didn’t recoil from you.” 

"You did. At the restaurant and a few minutes ago when you almost fell down my steps." 

“That wasn’t me recoiling. Recoiling implies disgust and—”

“So it wasn’t disgust?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed, and the stiff expression melted as a smile crept up on his lips. “Really? What was it then?”

“No, hey. Wait. You’re reading into that. It wasn’t anything. It just wasn’t disgust. That’s all.”

Eddie hummed and pushed up from the counter. His hands slid into his pockets as he walked in front of you, feet shoulder-width apart, holding your gaze. The gap between you was way too small for your own sanity and Eddie was trying to push you to react. Either in disgust or some other way. 

“It wasn’t?” 

“Hey, you’re the one who had a sex dream about me.” You could hear the nerves in your laugh. “If anyone is going to be grilled here, it should be you.”

“Oh, you want to know the details?” 

“No, that isn’t what I meant. You know that isn’t what I meant.” 

Eddie leaned forward and lowered his voice. He smelled like the coffee he’d been standing near. Aftershave, too. His hands stayed firmly rooted in his pockets. 

“What kinda thoughts were you having, Henderson?” 

That frustration you felt after hearing the confession was back. It was a little misplaced as you panicked to get yourself out of the situation, but you weren’t exactly sure where things would go if you told the truth. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” That wasn’t exactly what you meant to ask, but you had to double down. “Why’d you keep the dream a secret?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed, a confused grin forming. 

“You normally tell people you had sex dreams about them, Henderson?” 

"N-No. I don't. Because then I'd have to tell y—" You stopped yourself, but Eddie had already caught onto it. You continued before he could interrupt. Seemed the ache between your legs was leading your words. "I mean, you sounded like you really liked the dream, Munson. No courage to try and make it real?" 

"Yeah." Eddie scoffed. "Let me ask my friend's older sister, who is very strictly off limits, if she wants to fuck. Wonder how that'd turn out, hm?"

You expected Eddie to walk away, but he put no distance between you. It was just the two of you staring each other down, the hooks in your head sinking deep into Eddie’s words. Off-limits? Where the hell had that come from? 

It took all of a few seconds to connect the dots. Dustin was nothing if not protective. Also probably wouldn't take kindly to the guy he looks up to so much if he suddenly started to see his sister. 

“What the hell did Dustin tell you?”

“Said nothing outright. But it came up once—you got the same rules as Wheeler’s older sister. Friends don’t go after siblings. Hard, hard rule.” Eddie sighed. “Kinda figured it was a rule you played a part in creating too.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“You didn’t?”

“No.” There was a shift in the air around you as Eddie tipped his chin back. “I didn’t.”

“Interesting.”

Eddie’s eyes searched yours. That little prick. Dustin meant well, you knew he did, but he also had no right meddling in your life that way. It was your choice who you saw, even if that came down to the Dungeon Master of his little nerd group. It was your choice. One that, as you peered at Eddie, you realized was entirely within your control to make. 

“I change my mind.” 

“About what?” Eddie cocked a brow. 

“I want to know the details of the dream you had about me.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah.” You exhaled slowly, trying to cling to the bravery pushing through you in the form of adrenaline. “You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

Eddie snapped to attention instantly. His head cocked to the side and his hands finally left his pockets. Slowly—excruciatingly so—he put them on either side of you, leaning his weight against the couch. His arms touched yours, and he popped one hip out as he came close. It wouldn't take much to lean forward and put your mouth on his. But you kept yourself rooted in place, trying not to look at Eddie's mouth too much. 

You weren’t exactly successful. 

“You sure, Henderson? The dream I had wasn’t exactly…clean.” 

“Wouldn’t expect it to be considering it was a sex dream, Munson.” 

"M'kay, fair enough." His breathing picked up as he thought over his next words. You watched his throat as he swallowed hard. The silver chain of his necklace glinted in the dim lighting. "Well, I managed to invite you over for once. Got to finally show you the trailer. My bedroom, my guitar, every last high-end detail of my humble abode."

He made a show of glancing around the trailer. When his eyes came back and his attention was back on you, you didn’t bother to ignore the flush of heat that traveled over your body.  

“But see, in my dream, gotta admit you acted a little differently than you normally do.”

“Yeah, and how was that?” 

“You wanted to kiss me. Real badly. Real, real badly.” Eddie’s gaze flickered to your mouth and he held it. “Wasn’t going to say no to that. With lips like those, I’d be real dumb to turn you down.” 

Eddie’s gaze lingering on your mouth made you squirm a bit, and you bit your lip. He still kept his focus there, watching as your tongue darted out and traced the light indentations you’d left. 

“Safe to say I kissed you. But, uh, you wanted a lot more than that. Got me onto my bed real easy. Begged for me to touch you. Little self-indulgent, gotta admit. Wanted to hear that pretty voice say you wanted me." Eddie's hands moved a little closer to you, his leg shifting forward and finding itself between your legs. "Well, closer to begging. And how could I say no to such sweet pleas?"

You swallowed hard, wishing Eddie's leg would scoot a little closer. Give you just bit of contact that you were almost on the verge of begging for. Just a little bit. Even just a few squeezes from your thighs would've helped, but you couldn't with Eddie's leg there. 

“Gave you everything you wanted however you wanted it.”

"And what, Eddie," you spoke, voice strained, "was it that I wanted?"

“To cum.” There was no hesitation in his response. “Fingers, mouth, cock. Until you couldn’t cum for me anymore.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhm.” He shrugged. “Had you real cockdrunk. A real nice view. Begged for me to keep fucking you.”

“Really want to hear me beg, don’t you?” 

“Really want to fuck you,” he breathed, words a little shaky. “Hence the dream.” 

You couldn’t think of a clever response. Eddie, despite all your past bickering, had finally managed to steal the words from you. You were speechless, although part of that had to do with how soaked you could feel you were. And the mention of his mouth? All you wanted was Eddie to drop to his knees and give you the friction you were desperate for. His tongue against your clit? Shit. The thought only made the wetness grow. 

“Your turn,” he said, breaking the silence. “Gotta tell me ‘bout yours, (Y/N).”

You exhaled unevenly. You opted for what plagued your mind during work. It felt more on par with Eddie's dream than your hot and heavy makeout dream against your car. 

"You snuck into my room one night." You couldn't hold his gaze as you spoke, turning your focus to how the collar on his shirt gaped and gave you a glimpse down his chest. "Wasn't anything as special as yours. Nothing fancy. Just a few different positions while you, uh."

"While I what?" 

His whispered words trailed over you and wrapped around your own. Tugged on them like you wanted to do to his hair until you spoke them.

“Fingered me.” 

“That’s it?” Eddie’s tone wasn’t mocking. He sounded genuinely surprised, and in your peripherals, you caught a bit of what looked like pity on his face. “Just my fingers? Didn’t even let yourself have more fun with it?” 

"Couldn't make much noise—thin walls, after all—guess that had something to do with it." Adrenaline still pushed through you. "Otherwise I'm sure you would've done a lot more when you had me on all fours." 

Eddie’s chest was moving fast. It wasn’t a gradual change, you just noticed it as your eyes stayed fixed down his collar. Unlike him, though, you held your breath as he leaned forward, mouth next to your ear. 

“You got a mirror in the bedroom?” 

“Yeah,” you stuttered out, Eddie’s breath warm against your neck. 

“Would’ve faced that towards you. Have you watch yourself cum.” His cheek brushed yours and you could feel Eddie shaking. “Have you watch me fuck that pretty pussy until you’re squeezing my fingers like I wish you could my cock.” 

You thought your knees were going to give out. They almost did. Your knees were trembling as Eddie dared a step further—the line you’d once had drawn already cleanly erased between you. His lips only barely touched your neck. Enough to give you a taste of what you’d dreamt. A craving to feel all of it. 

You spoke before he could. 

"You got a mirror here?" 

Eddie’s exhale was controlled, but he didn’t step back. 

“I do.” 

Adrenaline. So much adrenaline. You were walking a tightrope with Eddie on the other side and you finally took the last step, stopping right in front of him. The cliff's edge crumbled around you. 

“Why don’t you show me then?” You angled your head so you could whisper in his ear. “Promise I’ll beg as sweet as you want.” 

“You fucking with me, Henderson?” His words had a clear edge. 

“No.” You dared to move, tipped his chin up and back so he could look at you. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and you swallowed your nerves. “I want you to fuck me.”

There was only a breath of a pause before Eddie clicked into gear. His fingers went to your hair, and yanked you towards him as his mouth went to yours. You did the same, tugging his hair out of his bun and doing what you'd always wanted to—finally got to feel how soft his damn hair was. 

Eddie tasted how you imagined. Although there was a bit of coffee added in. But it was kind of hard to focus on as Eddie kissed you like he was dying. Ravishing you with such a heated kiss, you were worried how you'd be once he fucked you. Cockdrunk? He already had you addicted to his kiss. To the way his tongue darted out and teased yours. How his teeth nipped at your bottom lip with a delicious pinch. 

Your only breather was Eddie dragging you toward his bedroom, kicking his door shut and throwing you on his bed. You bounced, watching as he tugged his shirt off, coming back down onto the bed and pinning you against the mattress. It gave you no time to look him over, only allowing a few glimpses at his tattoos, his necklace, the dark trail of hair that disappeared in his pants. 

“Mirror’s over there.” Eddie motioned towards where his guitar hung a little ways away from his bed. “You wanna watch yourself, gonna have to do it on the floor.”

“Is fine,” you huffed, barely able to breathe as his hips slowly ground between your legs. Gave you a good feel of how long, hard, and thick he was under his jeans. Finally started to give friction where you really needed it. “Don’t mind.”

“Then I better get you naked, hm?”

Eddie left mark after mark on your neck, you knew, as he unbuckled your belt and undid your jeans. They were too high on your neck, and the way he stopped to savor the sounds you made told you they were going to be fucking dark. You were going to have to utilize scarves the next couple days around your family. 

A thought that went out the window as soon as Eddie had your jeans off and he was making his way back up for your shirt. And once that was off and once Eddie had gotten a good long look of you on his bed in nothing but your underwear, he reached around and removed your bra. 

He went right back to staring, his fingers dancing over your chest. Pinching and squeezing, licking and kissing. Not giving your mind a second to catch up with what he was doing. Tweaked your nipples as you tried to wrap your legs around his waist. Sucked them into his mouth as a hand went down and shoved one leg against his bed, not allowing you to lift your hips to touch him. 

When you were sufficiently squirming, hips trying desperately to reach some part of him to soothe the throbbing your clit felt, Eddie glanced down. 

"Fucking soaked your underwear, damn, (Y/N)." He laughed, hand still underneath your knee. It forced your legs open for the perfect view of your cunt. Of the dark, damp spot you knew was there on the blue cotton. He pouted and his hand twitched on your knee. "How badly does that clit need attention?" 

“Badly,” you breathed. 

“Aw, poor thing.” He gave a firm push on your knee, a silent tell to keep it exactly where he put it. You listened, breathing rapidly as Eddie trailed the back of his fingers down your stomach. “This help?”

He ran his fingers down ever-so-slightly over your cunt. Barely enough for you to register the touch. It only made the throbbing worse. Made the desire you had double and triple. 

“No.” You ground your teeth. “It’s not.”

“How ‘bout this?” He honed in on your clit, his knuckles rubbing it carefully through your underwear. Over and over, barely giving it any pressure. “Or does it need more? Do you need more?” 

“Yes,” you plead. “Need more. Eddie, please.”

“I’ll give it to you, don’t worry. (Y/N).” 

Eddie’s thumb switched places with his knuckles and finally—finally—you got some of the relief you needed. It came in the form of slow circles rubbing your clit, your underwear acting as an infuriating barrier. But you weren't going to complain, not when you finally got some goddamn friction. Not when those slow circles were drawing sweet after sweet wave of pleasure through your veins. 

“Forgive me,” he murmured softly. “Wanna savor this image. Never thought I’d even have you in my bedroom. And now you’re like this? All needy and wet for me? Begging me to give you even just a little bit of relief? Making that dream look like nothing.”

“Could say the same to you,” you grunted out, trying to keep your hips still as Eddie gradually increased the speed of his thumb. 

“Maybe I will sneak in one night.” Pressure was added in with the speed increase. “Do exactly this with you. Tease this pretty clit nice and slow, making sure you don’t make too much noise, until you’re cumming in those panties of yours. Silently begging me to fuck you, to give you a little more. But can’t, baby. Not when your walls are so thin. Wouldn’t want you to get caught, would we?” 

“Christ, Eddie.” You reached down and grabbed his wrist. “You goddamn tease.”

Eddie smirked as you couldn't take it anymore, your hips moving to grind yourself against him. You took what Eddie wasn't giving you. And he let you, but only for a few moments before he was leaning over you and stealing another kiss. 

“Get up.” 

It happened in quick succession, you standing, Eddie grabbing his blankets, laying them out in front of his mirror and then motioning for you to get on them. He watched silently as you dropped to all fours, looking over yourself in the reflection. Your mascara was smudged, nipples hard, neck covered in hickies. Then your eyes flickered to Eddie as he dropped behind you, a hand tailing over your ass before the palm came down hard against it. 

You gasped, and when that was your only reaction, Eddie did it again. 

“Keep your eyes open.” He hooked his fingers around your underwear and tugged them down, a vulnerable wave of embarrassment hitting you. You swallowed the knot in your throat as you lifted your knees and Eddie, meeting your gaze in the mirror, dropped your underwear beside him. Then his eyes flickered to your cunt. “Want you to watch as you cum.”

You nodded, having to stop yourself from hanging your head as Eddie’s fingers ran through your folds. He started with one finger, pushing it slowly into you. Tested how much you could take. He sighed as you squeezed around just the single finger, cursing as your back arched and a moan slipped out. 

His second finger stretched you a bit, so he gave you more time with it. With two, they scissored and stretched. Searched for the spot that almost made your elbows give out. 

Behind you, Eddie cooed, those brown eyes locking with yours. 

“Found it.”

He made you cum with two fingers first. Grabbed a fistful of your hair when you struggled to keep your head up yourself. Forced you to watch as his fingers pushed you closer and closer to the edge, the obscene noises they made as they fucked you making your body burn. 

Closer and closer and closer he pushed you until you were back on the tightrope. Walking it on wobbly legs, barely able to move as his fingers made you see stars. They plunged so deep—deeper than your own could go—and fucked you so hard your tits bounced. 

You felt yourself start to flutter around him and he smirked. 

“Keep watching.” He tugged on your hair as a reminder. “Watch yourself cum, (Y/N).”

You did. You watched as the coil in your abdomen twisted until it snapped. Eddie's fingers fucked you just as hard and just as deep as you grunted, cumming around them. Gushed over them until you could feel it coat your thighs. 

Your elbows gave out as Eddie kept fucking you, letting go of your hair as your arms reached out and you grabbed fistfuls of the blanket beneath you. 

He stopped long enough to smack your ass again. Then again. A third and a fourth time before his fingers left you and his thumbs parted you. He whistled and you didn't need to check the mirror to see he was looking at you, dripping from your orgasm. 

“Hm. Don’t know if you’re ready for me yet,” he cooed, his thumbs finally dropping. “Let’s stretch you out a bit more, hm?”

Two fingers pushed back into you, then three. You sighed at the burn, continuing to fist the blankets as he picked up the same pace he'd had before. Fucking you without mercy as soon as he found the spot that had you screaming. Begging for more that he fully intended to give you. The same movements, torturing the spot as you gave Eddie the sight of a lifetime with your ass in the air. 

He repeated the same act as earlier, his hand going to your hair to make you watch as you came again. You gushed even harder around his three fingers than you had his two. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched yourself lose it to your orgasm. You cried out as Eddie fucked you through it, pulling his fingers out with a pop when you finished. 

“Eddie,” you panted as he gently lowered your head. ”Holy shit.”

“Yeah?” The pride in his voice was clear but you didn’t care if you were fanning his ego. What you were going to say next would end up doing double anyway. 

“Fuck me.” You pushed up and stared at him in the mirror. He looked like he didn’t need much convincing. “Please? Don’t you wanna see me all drunk from your cock?” 

Eddie almost fell over himself as he scrambled to his feet, undoing his bottoms as he reached around for the obvious. 

“I’m on the pill,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder at him as he kicked his pants aside. 

He dropped the book he'd been looking under and he was behind you in a heartbeat, boxers dropping beside your underwear. He first angled himself so you could see exactly what you'd felt against you earlier. In all its thick, hard glory. Your mouth watered at the sight, and Eddie gave you a shit-eating grin when he noticed. 

“Nother time, baby.” He sauntered up behind you and ran his cock through your folds, hitting your oversensitive clit each time. “When we can both appreciate each other with our mouths.”

You pressed your head against the floor as he pushed in. He was thicker than three fingers, but it didn’t burn as much as it could’ve. He glided in easily, giving you a few seconds to adjust as he pushed further and further in. Until he was all the way in and he had your thighs shaking. 

“Feeling even better than I dreamed.” 

Eddie’s hands skimmed over your sides until they were back on your ass. He took a few slow breaths as he spread you again, and you felt a drop of wetness hit you where you least expected. You glanced up in the mirror as Eddie ran slow circles over your asshole with his thumb, eyes flicking up to catch yours. He held eye contact as he pushed his thumb in slightly, and you immediately squeezed around him, whining at the burn between your two holes. He pulled his thumb out just as his hips shifted back. 

His thumb pressed back in as he slammed back into you, cock dragging over the same spot his fingers had been torturing. He had you crying out almost instantly, thumb teasing your asshole as his cock fucking filled you. 

Cockdrunk was right. You thought he’d been joking, talking himself up, making up a thing that only existed in dream form. But no. You were absolutely drunk as he fucked you. Everything was just Eddie, his cock, and the damn thumb he kept teasing you with. Stretching, filling, hitting that sweet spot over and over until you were crying into the blanket. 

His hand he kept on your hip came down onto your ass occasionally. Spanking hard over and over again until you were sore. His thumb, whenever he’d slow down his hips, would press further into you. He’d spit whenever he needed to, giving you more lube as he lazily fucked you with his thumb. First time anyone—including yourself—had ever touched you there. And even through the fog, you knew Eddie would go crazy when he found that out. 

All the extra stimulation, though, brought you to the edge quick. Real quick. You were barely able to warn Eddie as your orgasm got closer and closer. You cursed against the blanket, already trying to lift your head since you knew what Eddie would do if you weren't looking in the mirror. That was the only warning he got, the glimpse of your mascara-stained cheeks, gaping mouth, half-lidded and fucked out stare before your walls fluttered and squeezed Eddie's cock. 

You grunted out a strangled version of his name as your body shook, orgasm ripping through you like lightning. 

“Fucking—shit.”

Both of Eddie’s hands went to your hips as you practically milked him as you came. He just felt so damn good inside you that you couldn’t hold it. And when he came, balls deep, and fucking filled you? You nearly came again, whole body sensitive to every little thing happening inside you. Especially to Eddie shooting ropes of cum into you, nearly falling on top of you as he did. 

“Christ, (Y/N). Christ.” 

He huffed, running his hands over your back in soothing motions before pulling out. And those thumbs, the second he pulled out of you, were back to spread you open. You could feel his cum leaking out of you as he cursed. Carefully, his fingers pushed back inside you, and you knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Keep it in there,” he murmured. “Can you do that for me?”

You clenched around his fingers at the request and Eddie, the mean bastard that he was, reached his other hand between your legs and rubbed your clit. And that clenching only worsened, squeezing his fingers as he rubbed your clit, puffy and sensitive to even the slightest touch. 

"You know, this is all I'm gonna be thinking about next time I see you." He curled his fingers against your spongy spot and the pleasure was white-hot as he kept rubbing your clit. "Every second of tonight. Gonna come pick your brother and his friends up and I'm just going to be looking at you, remembering you just like this." 

“Shut up,” you spat. Not a clever response, and Eddie laughed at it. You didn’t think you could give Eddie a fourth, but you were close to cumming around his fingers again, blatantly aware that the vulgar sounds were from more than just you. 

“Says you. Bout to cum while stuffed fucking full of mine.”

You couldn’t watch yourself as you came, crying as you gushed around his fingers. Again. 

You fell to the floor as Eddie pulled his fingers out, wiping them off on some tissues he kept by his bed, taking a few and wiping them between your legs and drying your thighs. 

“You okay there, (Y/N)?” There was a tenderness to his voice that made you roll onto your back and stare up at him. The change in position made everything south shift and you gasped. 

“Am fine.” You cocked a brow and chuckled, throwing your arms over your face. “Very fine. You?”

“Oh, fucking phenomenal.” His hands ran over your thighs. “Even better than my dream.” 

“Mm good.” You sat up abruptly, remembering that you were supposed to just drop the notebook off. This was a serious detour, one that’d probably require an explanation, especially if Dustin was at home. “Shit. Shit. I have to go. Dustin knows I’m here and—shit.” 

But you couldn’t stand immediately. Your legs wouldn’t quite hold you up. Eddie laughed, reaching out and helping you to your feet, laughing even more when your eyes widened. Gravity had a serious effect between your legs. 

“Go use the bathroom, (Y/N), I’ll get your clothes.” He kissed your cheek. “First door on the left.”

”Thanks.” 

Eddie was serious. When you left the bathroom, he was standing outside dressed, holding your clothes. He eyed your naked form just as hungrily as he had earlier, and he shook his head. 

“Stop it,” you said, snatching your clothes. Even if the look made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. Especially when Eddie turned his back to you, giving you privacy even though you could easily close the bathroom door. 

“Wasn’t doing anything.” He leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door. “We should get our story straight. You know, just in case Dustin suspects anything. Kid’s smarter than his own good.”

“Story?” You yanked your jeans up. “I dropped the notebook off, we talked, that’s it.”

“Yeah, and those?” Eddie peered into the bathroom and poked the hickies he’d left on your neck. “How you gonna explain those?”

”I’ll wear scarves.” You glanced away, tucking your shirt in and fixing your belt. “Or, I’ll tell him to mind his business. Easy.”

“You really think he will?”

You grinned, laughing as a devious thought came to mind. 

“If he asks, I’ll just tell him Steve did it. That’ll shut him up.” 

“Harrington?” Eddie pushed up from the wall. “You two close?”

Considering the events of the past few years, yeah, you were close. Just friends, but close. Dustin had tried to set you two up after Nancy and Steve had broken up, but neither of you went for it. 

Dustin would lose his mind if you told him you and Steve were seeing each other. Steve would probably be all for it to see the look on Dustin's face. 

“Don’t worry, Munson.” You slipped out of his bathroom, eying the muted jealousy on his face. “I’m not into jocks.”

You rushed towards his front door, stopping when he followed, and turned. Your mouth went to his and he melted against you, his hands going to your waist as you tugged him back. The surprise was evident as he gasped, taking a few seconds to kiss you back. But you kept it all sweet. Savoring the last few seconds before you had to rush home. 

“You dropped the notebook off, we talked, we made up. That’s our story?” He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Mhm.” You bit your lip. “Simple as that.”

“And, uh, what if I wanted to talk again? That…that in the question? Or this talking just a one-time thing?" 

“Weren’t you the one who said another time earlier?” 

“Answer my first question. Depends on whether I say it was a heat of the moment thing.” 

“I…” You scanned his face, skimming your hands over his chest. “Am not opposed to ‘talking’ again.” 

"Yeah?" The shit-eating grin was back again. "You're not?"

“No.” You reached behind you for the doorknob. “I do have to go, Munson.”

“I wasn’t joking,” he said as you backed out of his front door. “Next time I see you, not gonna be able to look at you without thinking ‘bout earlier.”

“Yeah, I remember.” You started down his stairs and reached for your keys.

“‘Kay. Good.” He leaned against his door. “Bye, Henderson. I enjoyed our talk.”

“Bye, Munson.”

You flipped him off as you climbed into the car, trying not to grin as madly as you were. Eddie stayed there, watching you leave. He looked stupidly good just lazily resting in the doorway, lighting a cigarette. You burned it into your memory, along with the rest of the night, as you sped home. 

Home where your mother was already in bed and the outside lights had been left on for you. Home where, when you went to heat up the leftovers she’d left out for you, you heard some sounds coming from Dustin’s room. Until his door creaked open and the bastard scared you as you turned from the microwave, nearly making you drop the hot plate. 

"You're home late." He glared at you. 

You prayed your hair covered your neck enough to hide the hickies. 

“Yup. Eddie and I ended up talking for a bit. Worked shit out.”

“So you were giving him the cold shoulder.”

“Drop it, Dustin.” You took your plate to your room, knowing you weren’t supposed to eat in there. “Tell Suzie I said hi.” 

“Hey, we’re not done here!”

“Night, Dustin.” You kicked your door shut and locked it behind you. You winced as you plopped onto your bed and chuckled, you were sorer than you expected. Tomorrow would definitely be fun. 

You ate quickly, wishing you and Eddie had a secret radio channel so you could talk more. Jokes aside, you did want to talk to him more. It'd also work as a great time killer while you tried to wait out Dustin so you could shower. You didn't want him waiting to ambush you after you cleaned up. It wouldn't end well for you, that much you knew. 

You fell onto your back and closed your eyes. The next time you and Eddie saw each other was certainly going to be interesting. The next time you talked was definitely going to be. 

A grin grew as you ran through the events of the night. Stupid Eddie Munson.

You were really excited to talk again. 

[dorapascalstyles]

move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, light blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut and the it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

[dorapascalstyles]

"that was the craziest thing i could think of"

[dorapascalstyles]

🪼little things

pairing: matt x reader

summary: where reader notices matt remembering the little things

genre: fluff and nothing but

warnings: none

a/n: this request is so good but i don't think i did it justice 😃

masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------

I had been in relationships before but none were ever like this.

my old relationship were more like contracts for kissing and sex. my exes made me feel small and useless outside of sex. but matt just makes me feel loved and makes my problems his.

that being said i've noticed a little trait of his recently. he remembers every little thing i mention. at first i didn't notice due to it being the smallest of things.

*3 weeks ago*

"i'm so tired" i say as a yawn is pulled from my mouth. i'm mid way through brushing my hair but i have to stop from the minimal soreness in my arms from the days duties. matt looks over at my face through the vanity mirror. he slowly strides from my bed over to me. he silently takes the brush from my hair slowly combing the bristles through it. "that feels nice" i mention closing my eyes and melting into his touch "yeah?" he stays almost as a question for me to continue talking on. "yeah. i like it when people play with my hair" he hums in response and continues to brush until my hair is free from knots. "let's go to bed now" he says helping from my chair. as i flop down onto my bed, matt pulls me into him so i'm facing his chest as i make myself comfortable against him putting my hands around his neck. he slowly starts to play with strands of my hair and eventually massaging my scalp, hushing me to sleep.

since that moment matt has made it his mission to brush my hair every night to then hush me to sleep by playing with my hair or massaging my scalp.

this wasn't the last time he did something because i mentioned it.

two weeks ago i mentioned that i was craving these strawberries that my dad always brought but i haven't been able to find them. the next day i had three punnets of strawberries on my counter with a note saying:

i think these are the ones your talking about.

i asked you dad and he said this brand. i hope you like them :)

-Matt

and now he is always stocking my fridge with them.

last week i mentioned that i really enjoyed this little indie band, Hockey Dad, and that is all he has been playing in the car.

it's safe to say it's definitely more than just kissing and sex with matt.

taglist

@ermdontmindthisaccount @its-jennarose @ilovemattsturn @frozenvegitableoil @meme2003 @thetriplets3 @nickmillersn1gf

[dorapascalstyles]

Biting my knuckles.

this is genuinely the best he ever looked idc