courta13

[courta13]

GRUDGE – CHRIS STURN | EPILOGUE

“Celtics’ Chris Sturniolo Shines in Season Opener — But It’s His Courtside Guest That Has Fans Talking”

By: Boston Daily Sports Magazine

BOSTON — Celtics star Chris Sturniolo, 29, lit up the TD Garden court last night with a 34-point, 12-rebound performance, reminding fans why he’s one of the league’s most explosive players. But as much as the crowd cheered his season debut, it wasn’t just the basketball that had fans buzzing.

Sitting courtside in a sleek black dress, her hair pulled effortlessly into a bun, was longtime partner Julianna DeFrancis (28)—the powerhouse founder of Étoile Jewel Ballet Company, one of the most successful new arts institutions in the country. Cameras caught her proudly cheering, smiling every time Chris scored.

Yet what really stole the spotlight was the sparkling diamond ring glinting on her left hand… and the soft curve of her stomach beneath her dress.

“Fans are speculating the two are recently engaged after Jules was spotted with a massive ring during the Celtics opener—just weeks after the couple returned from a romantic month in Ibiza,” reported Entertainment Wire. “Adding to the excitement, Jules’ flowing gown seemed to hint at a possible pregnancy, fueling talk that the couple may be expecting their first child together.”

For a duo that has spent nearly a decade turning heads—Chris dominating on the court and launching his lifestyle clothing brand Fresh Love, while Jules built a multi-million-dollar ballet empire—the speculation only adds to their status as one of Boston’s most magnetic power couples.

When asked post-game about the ring on Jules’ finger, Chris only grinned.

“She’s always been my biggest win,” he said, a sly smile tugging at his lips before he turned back to the press table.

Neither Chris nor Jules has confirmed the rumors, but if last night’s debut was any indication, the season ahead won’t just be about basketball—it will be about love, family, and the next chapter of two lives built fiercely together.

Jules sat curled up on the bed, her legs tucked beneath her, the faint glow of her phone lighting her face. The article scrolled in front of her. She exhaled, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she felt an arm tighten around her waist.

“You really reading all that?” Chris’s voice was low, teasing, as his chin rested against her shoulder. His still-damp curls brushed her cheek, fresh from the post-game shower.

“They make it sound like we’re some kind of royalty,” Jules murmured, shaking her head. “Boston’s ultimate power couple?” She let out another laugh, but her free hand instinctively touched the ring glinting on her finger. “I don’t think we can take that title.” 

Chris’s thumb brushed lazy circles against the small swell of her stomach, a secret that, for now, was still theirs. “Well, they’re not wrong,” he said easily, voice full of that quiet confidence he carried on the court. “You are my queen, and I…” He smiled, playing with her ring finger. “…am your trophy husband.”

Jules rolled her eyes, though her lips curved into a grin. “You? A trophy husband? You’re literally the top scorer in the league.” 

“Gotta make you proud, baby,” Chris murmured, pressing a kiss to the diamond on her finger. His lips lingered there like he wanted the world to see the promise it carried. “Can’t have you looking all pretty courtside for someone who isn’t on top.” 

Jules laughed, soft and genuine, though it caught in her throat with the weight of what he’d said. Her hand trembled slightly as she turned her phone back toward him, scrolling until the words glared up at her again. She’s always been my biggest win.

Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes betrayed the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. “That’s what you told them?”

Chris shifted beside her, the corner of his mouth twitching into that half-smile she’d known since forever. Slowly, he slid his hand over hers, nudging the phone down until it was forgotten on the couch cushion. “Hey,” he said, voice dropping into something deeper, firmer. “Enough of this.”

Her brows arched slightly. “Enough of what?”

“Enough of you acting surprised,” he said simply, searching her face with that steady intensity that had always disarmed her. Then, his gaze flicked lower, toward the curve of her robe, the soft swell beneath it that no one else in the world knew about yet. His lips curled. “Besides… I think they’re already catching on.” 

Jules felt warmth flush her cheeks as instinctively her hand fell over her stomach. A smile tugged at her lips—shy, private. “You think so?” she whispered.

Chris didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned forward, brushing the fabric of her robe open with careful hands until the faintest curve of her belly was exposed. His expression softened instantly, pride and wonder melting the cockiness from his features.

He bent down, pressing a slow kiss against her stomach. Then another. His hand rested protectively over the spot, fingers splaying as though he could hold the future in his palm. “This,” he said, his voice low and reverent between kisses. “This is the real win, Jewel.” 

“You’re my number one right now,” Chris said, smiling up at her, his cheek still resting against her belly. His voice was warm, steady, like he needed her to feel every word. “And when she’s here—in just five months—you both will be.”

Jules felt her throat tighten as her fingers slipped deeper into his hair, combing through the soft curls. He wasn’t just saying it to reassure her; she could hear it in his tone, see it in the way his hands cradled her, careful but sure. He meant it. 

Her lips trembled into a small smile. “You’re already obsessed with her,” she teased softly, though her voice carried more awe than humor.

Chris kissed her stomach again, lingering this time. “Of course I am,” he murmured against her skin. “She’s half you, Jewel. That makes her perfect.” 

The words hit her like a punch to the chest, tears welling up as she looked down at him. He glanced up then, his eyes locking on hers with that boyish grin that had only sharpened with age, and something in her heart broke open all over again.

Jules laughed shakily, brushing her thumb along his jawline. “God, Chris… you’re gonna spoil her rotten.”

“Damn right I am,” he smirked, rising just enough to press a kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers. His hand remained firmly on her bump, like he was staking his claim. “I’ll have two spoiled girls to care for.”

Chris didn’t move right away, his hand still splayed protectively over her belly. His eyes softened, searching hers like he was peeling back layers she wasn’t saying out loud.

“Are you scared?” he asked finally, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Jules blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. “No,” she admitted after a beat, shaking her head. “Not about us. Not about…her.” Her palm rested over his, pressing it closer against the curve of her stomach. She exhaled, her voice dropping quieter. “If anything, I’m just scared for the birth.”

Chris’s thumb began tracing slow circles against her skin, grounding her. He leaned up, pressing a kiss to her temple, then another to her cheek. “Hey, look at me.”

She did, meeting the steady blue eyes that had never once let her go when things got hard.

“You’re so strong,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “You’ve built an empire from the ground up, you’ve put up with me all these years,”—his mouth curved into a small grin before softening again—“and now, you’re about to bring our daughter into the world. And I swear to you, you won’t do any of it alone. I’ll be right there.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Jules pulled back just slightly, resting her forehead against his chest, and whispered with a small, guilty laugh, “I… I thought you’d cheat on me one day.”

Chris froze, eyes wide and mouth dropping just a fraction. “What?!” he exclaimed, sitting back a little, offended but more incredulous than angry. “Me? Cheat on you?”

She flinched at his reaction, immediately trying to explain herself. “I— I heard… NBA wife horror stories, you know? Players who can’t stay faithful, wives getting cheated on left and right…” Her voice trailed off, almost embarrassed.

Chris’s expression softened instantly. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones. “Baby… never,” he said firmly, voice low but full of conviction. “You know how stupid I’d have to be to ever hurt you? Trust me, it’s not in me. I’d rather shoot myself in the foot—no, both feet—than ever make you feel like that. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

She stared at him, her heart thudding against her ribs, overwhelmed by the intensity and sincerity in his eyes. “You mean it?” she asked softly, barely daring to breathe.

“Every word,” he said, leaning in to press his forehead against hers again, his lips brushing hers in a tender, lingering kiss. “If anyone ever tries to make me choose between you and… anything else in this world, they’re already losing. Because you’re it, Jewl. Always have been, always will be. 

Chris rested his chin lightly against her stomach, his hand smoothing over the curve like he still couldn’t believe it was real. His voice dropped into something almost reverent. “Enough of these stupid questions,” Chris said, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe I get to make a woman like you a mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing the silk of her skin as he spoke.

Jules’s cheeks warmed instantly, and a soft laugh escaped her, the kind that bubbled up when she couldn’t fight it back. “God, you make it sound like some kind of miracle.”

He tilted his head up at her, smirking. “It is.” Then his grin softened into something more earnest, his thumb stroking her side. “You’re gonna be the prettiest mama, Jules. I mean, you already are.”

Chris let his hand linger against her stomach, his lips brushing over the soft curve as though he couldn’t quite believe it was real. When he lifted his head, his eyes were shining, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“I still can’t believe I get to make a woman like you a mama,” he murmured, almost in awe.

Jules giggled, warmth bubbling through her chest at the way he said it—like she was some kind of miracle. “Chris…” she laughed softly, shaking her head, but the blush rising on her cheeks betrayed her.

He leaned in closer, his grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Nah, don’t try to hide it. You’re gonna be the prettiest mama.”

Her laugh deepened, spilling into something shy as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze lingering on her like she was the only person that existed.

“Prettiest, smartest, sassiest mama,” he continued, his voice dropping into that low teasing tone that always made her melt. “And I know you’re gonna drive me crazy when you’ve got our daughter wrapped around your finger—just like you do me.”

Jules swatted lightly at his chest, still laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you still said yes,” he shot back, pointing at the ring, and pressing another kiss against her lips before trailing down to her jaw. Her giggle turned into a sigh when he whispered, “Face it, Jewel—you were made to be mine, and now you’re about to be the hottest mom in Boston too.” 

Jules’ giggle lingered in the air, and when she finally caught her breath, she tipped her head at him with a teasing smirk. “Well… if I’m going to be the prettiest mama,” she said, voice lilting with playfulness, “then you’re definitely about to be the hottest dad.”

Chris’s grin widened instantly, boyish and smug. He leaned in, lips brushing her jaw as he murmured, “Hottest dad? Think you’re ready for everyone at schools to have a crush on me?”

Jules rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a light shove, though her smile betrayed her. “Please. You’re not even gonna make it past the hospital without the nurses lining up.”

“Good,” Chris teased, pressing a kiss just below her ear. “Long as they all know I’m taken.” He rested his forehead against hers, his tone softening. “Long as they all know you’re the only one I’d ever want to make a mama.”

Chris pulled back just enough to glance at her belly again, his hand spreading across the small curve like he couldn’t believe it was real. His voice dropped, husky with excitement.  “You know what I keep picturing?” he asked, lips brushing over her temple.

Jules hummed, tilting her face toward him. “What?”

He smiled against her skin, the kind of grin that made her chest ache with warmth. “Opening night. Next season. Walking onto that court and looking over to see my two girls sitting courtside—front row, glowing, cheering me on.” 

“That does sound nice.” Her heart swelled, and she pressed her hand over his on her stomach. “We’ll also be newlyweds by then.”

“Damn right,” Chris whispered, eyes dancing with pride. “My queen and my princess.” He kissed her forehead, then leaned back just far enough to smirk. “And I’m not gonna lie, baby… might have to drop 50 points that night just to show off for you both.”

Jules laughed, shaking her head. “You’re weird.”

“Weirdly in love with you,” he countered smoothly, his grin turning mischievous as his fingers trailed lightly down her waist. “And maybe weirdly turned on by the thought of you cheering me on with our daughter in your arms. Mama status looks hot on you already.”

Her cheeks heated, and she swatted his chest, though she was grinning. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you, baby,” he murmured, kissing her again—slow and certain. “Always only with you.” 

Chris pulled back just enough to cup Jules’ face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. His eyes, warm and steady, searched hers like he was asking the biggest question without words.

“You think…maybe we’ll have more?” he murmured softly, his gaze flicking down to her belly, then back to her eyes.

Jules giggled, the sound light and airy, though her chest tightened with happiness. “I think…yeah, maybe,” she admitted, reaching up to brush her fingers through his curls.

Chris’s lips curled into a slow smile, that same boyish, confident grin she loved. “We’ll watch them grow,” he said, voice husky, “and then grow old together.” He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. “And when we do…” He paused, his green eyes locking on hers with intensity. “…I hope we spend the rest of our time knowing we’ll be the last thing we see. And I’ll die loving you.”

Jules felt a tear escape and slide down her cheek, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Her body shook with emotion, and her laugh came out trembling. “Chris! That’s so…so dramatic!”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her, pressing his forehead a little harder against hers. “Dramatic? Maybe. True? Absolutely.”

She wiped at her eyes, giggling through the tears. “It’s just pregnancy hormones,” she said, though her voice was shaky with awe and love. 

“Pregnancy hormones or not,” he teased, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth, “you’re crying over me loving you forever. And I don’t plan on stopping.”

Jules laughed again, sniffing and shaking her head, but her heart felt full in a way it never had before. In that moment, with his hands holding her face, his lips brushing hers, and the soft curve of their first child beneath his hand, she knew their life was just beginning. 

“I love you, Christopher.”

“I love you, Julianna.”

“Always?” 

“Always and forever, Jewel.”

✦ END OF EPILOGUE: READ SERIES

© 𝐂𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

[courta13]

What’s pizza boy Chris doing rn? I miss him🍕

Thank you for asking about him. I love him so much. 💖 He's actually in my bed right now being such a good boy. Just kidding. Lmao.

THURSDAY, 12:28 A.M. 🕧

Chris is on his way home from his shift at the pizza shop. He's speeding down a residential street with a nearly spent blunt hanging between his lips and Nas' album Illmatic blasting from his speakers.

He's about to pass a 7/11 on the streetcorner when he remembers he's out of blunt wraps. He slows his speed and pulls into the dimly lit parking lot at the last second. He parks into a spot, cutting his lights and his engine.

He tosses his roach on the ground and crushes it beneath his sneaker before he wanders into the gas station. He immediately loses sight of his original mission when the slurpee machine calls his name. He sees that the piña colada flavor that's usually out of order is actually working for once.

He strays over towards the slurpee machine, high out of his mind, grabbing a middle-sized cup and dispensing the icey, refreshing drink into it and staring at it in awe as if it's some kind of life-saving elixir. It might as well be after the long night he had.

He nabs a straw and a lid before he heads over to the pretty cashier. "Just the slurpee?" She asks without looking up.

"Can I, um, also get some swisher sweets please, ma'am?" Chris timidly asks.

The cashier finally glances up at Chris, taken aback by his sweet demeanor. She immediately notices how attractive he is. Her eyes sweep over his features, his uniform, and the name tag he was still wearing. "Sure. Grape or blueberry?" She asks, giving him a little smile.

"Blueberry," he replies.

"Alright. ID?" She asks, plucking a 2 pack of the blueberry swisher sweets and setting them down on the counter. Chris reaches into his back pocket, retrieving his wallet, and to his dismay, when he opens it up, he realizes his license isn't in there. He lets out a small scoff, realizing he's been driving around, delivering pizzas without it all day.

"I, uh, seem to have forgotten it, ma'am," he admits, innocently biting down on his lip. He starts to rifle through his memories of all the last places he's seen it, hoping she'll let it slide and still sell him the blunt wraps.

She crosses her arms and subtly rolls her eyes, but her warm smile doesn't waver. "What are we gonna do with you, Christopher?" She clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

Chris bats his lashes, turning his charm up a notch. "Oh, I don't know, ma'am. I guess you'll have to give me a slap on the wrist and tell me to remember it next time," he smirks, his eyes fixed onto the blueberry swishers, hoping she don't put them back.

"Tell you what. I'll sell 'em to you. But you have to promise to come back tomorrow and show your ID to me," she flirts, looking him up and down with a hungry look in her eyes. "You also have to give me your phone number. You know, in case I have to track you down for it."

"Are you sure that's not just some ploy to get my number?" He teases, narrowing his gaze at her.

"You gonna do what I say or what?" She raises an eyebrow and gives him a playfully stern look, still clearly flirting with him.

"Of course, ma'am. You have my word," he responds, feeling his cock twitch to life at the way she's hitting on him and devouring him with her gaze. "I'll do whatever you want me to."

[courta13]

𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶 [07]

Welcome to Vivianne Hall, in which...

Edenella Murphy is pretty, young, and untamable. Matthew Sturniolo is handsome, steady, and quietly protective. When Eden is pushed toward an arranged marriage, Matt—unable to ignore his soft spot for her—steps in with an unexpected solution: a fake relationship. But as the act plays out, the line between pretend and something real begins to blur…

Warnings: kissing.

Chapter 07: The Winter I Cuffed A Hockey Boy

Today was game day, and apparently that meant I had a role to play: Matthew Sturniolo’s girlfriend. Which was why I was crammed into Chris’s car with the rest of the gang, on our way to the arena.

Big games weren’t held on campus. Those were too small, too tame. No—this was different. This was the arena: a massive rink with huge jumbotrons, blaring lights, and seats that could swallow up a thousand screaming fans. I’d never stepped foot in it before, and the closer we got, the more my nerves buzzed.

“You excited for your first game, Eden?” Nick leaned sideways from the backseat, nudging my shoulder with his elbow.

I shot him a deadpan look, though my lips twitched. “Yes. Very excited,” I drawled, dragging the words just enough to make Jules snort.

She twisted in her seat from the front, eyebrows wiggling in exaggerated mischief. “I’d better hear you cheer louder than all of us.”

Heat pricked my cheeks, and I leaned forward between the seats to swat her arm. “You need to shut the fuck up.”

The car burst into laughter, Chris shaking his head while keeping his eyes on the road. “God help Matt if you start heckling instead of cheering.”

“I’d never heckle,” I said innocently, though my grin gave me away.

By the time Chris turned into the arena parking lot, the place was alive. Cars were lined bumper to bumper, headlights cutting through the crisp night, people in jerseys and team colors moving like a river toward the entrance. The buzz of excitement was contagious, and I found myself craning my neck, wide-eyed at the sheer size of it all.

Inside, it was even more chaotic—vendors shouting about popcorn and hot dogs, the faint smell of fried food mixing with the icy air spilling from the rink. Music boomed from overhead speakers, the bass thudding in my chest. I clutched Jules’s arm as we navigated through the crowd, trying not to get separated. 

“This is insane,” I muttered, staring up at the giant Jumbotron that looped highlights of previous games.

Nick grinned at me. “This is hockey culture, Eden.”

Then he passed out tickets like he was dealing cards, and soon enough, we were climbing the steps to our seats—close enough to see the players warming up on the ice. My stomach flipped when I spotted Matt down there, helmet under his arm, skating around.  

And then it hit me all over again. Everyone here thought I was his girlfriend. 

The warm-up slowly wound down, players circling the rink one last time before skating off toward the tunnel. As the ice cleared, more people began filling the seats, the empty rows around us turning into a sea of colors, jerseys, and excited chatter. The arena lights dimmed slightly, and the crowd’s restless buzz built into a steady roar.

I sat back for a moment, taking it all in. The vibe was electric—strangers laughing, fans waving handmade signs, the thrum of anticipation almost alive in the air. 

“Now this,” Nick said beside me, grinning wide, “this is what it’s all about.”

Before I could reply, the music cut, and the announcer’s voice thundered through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your visiting team! Seneca Hill Skaters!”

The opposing school’s players stormed onto the ice, their dark uniforms sharp against the brightness of the rink. Immediately, a wave of boos and heckles erupted from our side of the stands. Fans stamped their feet, shaking signs, making their disapproval clear. I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension tighten.

Then the announcer drew it out, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. “And now…put your hands together for your home team! Vivianne Hall Vaders!”

The place exploded.

Lights strobed across the ice, music blasted through the speakers, and then Matt’s team came flying out of the tunnel one by one. The roar from the stands was deafening, and before I even realized it, I was on my feet with Jules, Nick, and Chris, screaming and clapping as loud as everyone else.

Nick was whistling so hard I thought his lungs might give out. Chris just gave a sharp clap and a grin, the kind of proud, brother energy that said he’d been here a hundred times before.

And me? I surprised myself. I wasn’t just cheering—I was grinning, hands cupped around my mouth as I shouted along with them. Something about seeing Matt in that uniform, skating out with his team, had my chest tightening in a way I didn’t expect.

The announcer’s voice boomed again, announcing names one by one. And when it hit: “Number 4—Matthew Sturniolo!”

The crowd went wild. His name echoed, bouncing off the arena walls, and I swore for a split second he glanced up toward our section.

Jules nudged me with her elbow, smirking knowingly. “Your man’s got fans, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at my lips.

The teams lined up, referees gliding out, the puck handed over. The lights steadied, the announcer’s last words ringing clear:

“Let's go!”

The puck hit the ice with a sharp clack, and instantly the intensity shifted. Skates cut into the ice, players collided, and the sound of sticks and shouts filled the rink. The game had begun, and the arena came alive in a frenzy of cheers, jeers, and chants.

The first few minutes were chaos, the puck flying across the ice so fast I could barely keep track. The sound of blades cutting, sticks clashing, the dull thud of bodies colliding into the boards—it all blurred into this rush that made my palms sweat.

But it didn’t take long to see that Matt’s team was sharper. Quicker passes, tighter formations, cleaner plays. They moved like one organism, anticipating each other with a kind of rhythm the other side just couldn’t match.

“Let’s go! That’s it!” Chris shouted, his usually calm voice breaking into the kind of raw excitement only a big game could drag out of him. Nick was half-standing, yelling at every missed call, while Jules had both hands cupped around her mouth, screaming Matt’s name every time he touched the puck.

And me? I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

He skated with this fierce focus, shoulders squared, the number 12 flashing on his jersey as he cut across the rink. Every time the puck hit his stick, the energy in the crowd spiked like people just knew something could happen. And when he scored, the entire section erupted.

I shot to my feet before I even realized it, yelling, clapping so hard my hands stung. The scoreboard blinked: Home: 2 — Visitors: 0.

The guys all yelled too, Nick practically shaking my shoulders as he whooped. I was still smiling like an idiot when I sat back down, pulse racing.

The game pressed on, fast and brutal. Opposing players slammed into the boards, fans booed bad calls, and the tension was climbing every second. But no matter how much pressure the other team tried to apply, Matt’s side just kept pushing harder. 

And Matt was burying players.

Another goal, then another.

By the second period, the scoreboard read 4–1. 

Our side of the arena was wild, the chants deafening. It wasn’t just noise anymore—it was pride, this pulsing belief that the win was ours. 

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, watching him skate past defenders like they weren’t even there. My chest swelled. 

Nick leaned over with a grin. “Thank god, Matt isn’t embarrassing you by losing right now.”

I tried to play it cool, but my grin gave me away. “Thank god, indeed.”

I was almost shocked Matt wasn’t planning on playing full-time; he was so good. 

As the game went on, the section beside us started filling up with a pack of girls clearly there for the other team. They weren’t as loud as our side, but they were definitely noticeable, whispering, laughing, tossing around commentary like they were at a fashion show instead of a hockey game. 

“Number 7’s cute,” one of them said, leaning forward to point toward the ice. “But 4? He’s really cute. That’s a Vivianne Hall boy, right?”

I didn’t even need to look at the scoreboard to know who number 4 was. My lips twitched before I could stop them, a small smile tugging at my face.

It was no other than my fake boyfriend, Matthew. 

“That’s him?” her friend squinted down at the rink. “Ugh, I can barely even see his face with all that gear on. How can you tell?”

“Please. You can always tell. Look at the way he skates. It's confident, like, you just know he’s hot.”

I bit down lightly on my bottom lip, hiding my grin as I leaned back in my seat. For some reason, hearing someone else fawn over him like that felt…strange. Like this private, unspoken thing I wasn’t supposed to feel, but did anyway.

Jules noticed my smile and nudged me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, shaking my head, though my cheeks warmed.

Down on the ice, Matt stole the puck with the cleanest check I’d seen all night. He cut between two defenders and ripped a shot straight into the back of the net. The crowd exploded, our section louder than ever, and even the girls beside us gasped.

“Oh my god, okay, number 4 is definitely fine,” one of them breathed.

The game dragged into the third period, the scoreboard glowing in heavy white numbers: 3–2. Matt’s team was up, but only by one. Every movement on the ice seemed sharper now, louder—the sound of skates cutting across the rink like knives, the crash of bodies against the boards, the crack of sticks hitting the puck. The crowd leaned forward in their seats, every cheer and groan echoing through the arena.

“Come on, come on…” Chris muttered under his breath beside me, gripping the railing in front of our section like his life depended on it. 

Nick, on the other hand, was shouting over the noise. “Defense! Tighten up!” like they could actually hear him from here.

I found myself on my feet without realizing it, heart hammering in time with the game. The energy around me was contagious—it felt less like I was watching and more like I was in it.

With less than three minutes on the clock, the visiting team managed to sneak one in. The red light flashed behind the net, and suddenly the scoreboard read 3–3. The air shifted instantly—what had been an excited buzz turned into nervous tension.

“Yes! Let’s go, Vivianne!”

I clenched my jaw and crossed my arms, trying not to glare at them.

On the ice, the puck dropped again, and chaos unfolded. The players fought harder now, bodies colliding, every shot on net making the whole arena hold its breath.

Then—less than thirty seconds left—Matt snagged the puck near center ice. He wove through traffic with that same steady confidence that made him stand out, his strides long, cutting deep into the ice.

“Go, Matt, go!” I heard myself yell before I could even think.

He passed once, got it back, then skated straight at the goal. One quick flick of his wrist and—crack. The puck soared past the goalie’s shoulder, slamming into the net with a sharp clang.

The arena erupted. People leapt out of their seats, screaming and stomping their feet so hard the stands trembled beneath us. Nick threw both fists into the air, Jules nearly lost her voice shrieking his number, and Chris smacked the railing so loud it echoed.

Final buzzer. 

4–3. Game over.

Matt’s team had won.

The players swarmed him instantly, smacking their sticks against the ice and pulling him into a pile of gloves and helmets. He’d scored the game-winner.

And me? I couldn’t stop smiling. 

The team’s cheers thundered through the rink, sticks slamming against the ice as Matt was swarmed by his teammates. He was grinning beneath his helmet, his breath fogging against the visor as they pounded his shoulders and tugged him into the center of their huddle. The scoreboard still glowed 4–3 overhead, the final buzzer long past, but the energy was still buzzing like static.

Matt’s eyes flicked up to the stands—searching. And when he spotted his brothers and me in the crowd, his grin widened in a way that wasn’t for the cameras or the team.

“Yo, that’s our boy!” Nick shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Jules leaned over the railing, practically hanging off of it, and screamed, “Number Four!” while Chris just laughed, shaking his head, but clapping hard all the same.

Matt broke away from the group and skated toward our section. He stopped at the boards in front of us, pulling off his helmet. His hair was damp, sticking to his forehead, but his face was bright—alive. He reached up with his gloved hand, and Nick leaned over to smack his helmet before pulling him into a half-hug over the glass. Jules followed, shrieking in his ear.

And then it was my turn.

I leaned forward, and without hesitation, he tugged me closer against the boards. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and even though his gear was bulky, I could feel the warmth radiating off him. For a moment, it felt like it was just us—me and him, tucked into the noise of the crowd.

That’s when the arena lights shifted.

“Oh my god,” Jules hissed suddenly, pointing up. “Eden—look.”

I pulled back just enough to glance at the massive Jumbotron above the ice. A giant red heart had appeared, framing a couple pressed together on the screen, mid-kiss. The crowd cheered, clapping and hooting as the “Kiss Cam” text flashed in bold letters.

I blinked, realization hitting all at once.

Because the camera had shifted. And now it was on us.

Me. And Matt.

The arena erupted again, people whistling and shouting encouragement.

Matt froze for a second, helmet tucked under his arm, his damp hair falling in his eyes. His gaze flicked to me, searching, questioning—half-grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he couldn’t believe the setup.

And I knew everyone was watching.

The chant started somewhere in the back of the arena and rolled forward like a wave.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

My heart slammed against my ribs. 

Matt’s eyes widened beneath the damp strands of his hair, his helmet still crooked under his arm. I caught the way his chest rose sharply, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“We don’t have to,” he said quickly, voice low, like it was just for me. There was something almost protective in it.

But I didn’t flinch. 

I tilted my chin up, heart hammering.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, steady.

Before he could argue, I reached up and brushed my fingers against the cold metal of his facemask. The cheers grew louder as I lifted the heavy helmet off him, letting it fall into his grip. His damp hair fell in messy strands across his forehead, his face flushed and glistening from the game. He looked both nervous and electric, like this moment had knocked the air out of him.

“Eden—” he tried, almost warning, his voice breaking on my name.

But I didn’t let him finish.

I closed the distance, my hands still lightly holding the side of his helmet, and pressed my mouth to his.

The crowd exploded. The sound hit me like a wave, but I barely heard it. His lips were warm against mine, rough from the cold air, and for a split second, he went still—like he hadn’t expected me to really do it.

And then he kissed me back.

Not a soft, staged brush of lips for the cameras. 

No. His free hand gripped the boards tight, knuckles whitening under the glove, while his other arm, still gloved, still heavy from his gear, slid around my waist, pulling me in as much as the glass allowed.

I heard the girls from earlier gasp, one of them whispers, “I had a feeling he was taken!”

When I finally broke away, breathless, my lips tingled. His forehead pressed to mine, his damp hair brushing my skin, both of us breathing hard like the game wasn’t even over.

“You think they got that?” I asked. 

He scoffed, breathless. “I fucking hope so.”

The crowd was still roaring, the chant morphing into wild cheers, but it felt distant, muffled.

Matt’s gaze locked on mine, wide and searching, chest heaving. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. 

His cheeks were pink. I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or if he was blushing. 

Either way. He was pink and smiling. 

Jules, Nick, and Chris were grinning like maniacs. Jules mouthed something obscene at me, and Nick just threw his fist in the air. 

Matt cleared his throat, still catching his breath, and tugged his helmet back on. “Come on,” he said softly, eyes flicking to mine for half a second before darting away, almost shy. “Let’s get out of here.”

By the time we left the boards, the arena’s buzz was still alive—people clapping Matt on the shoulder pads, strangers pointing and whispering as we walked through the tunnel. The kiss cam of all the couples replayed on the big screen, blown up for everyone to see. 

I caught a glimpse before we disappeared behind the curtain: my hand on his helmet, his mouth on mine, the way we almost looked like we weren’t faking.

Almost.

Outside the locker room, I waited with his brothers, hugging Jules to keep my hands busy. My lips still tingled, and I still felt his lips on me.

When Matt finally came out, changed into sweats and a hoodie, his hair damp and curling, he didn’t look like the same guy who had just won a game in front of thousands. He looked human again, almost boyish, but there was something sharper in his eyes now when they found me.

“You good?” he asked, voice low, as though the hallway wasn’t still filled with teammates and fans buzzing about the win.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

As we walked out together, more stares followed us, people whispering about the kiss. I kept my head high, even smiled once or twice, but inside, my stomach was twisted in knots.

When we stepped out into the cool night air, away from the noise, Matt finally spoke.

“You didn’t… You didn’t have to do that, you know.” His voice wasn’t accusing—it was soft, almost careful.

I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, exhaling. “I know.” My lips curled faintly, not quite a smile. “But we’re supposed to sell it, right?”

Matt stopped walking. He turned, eyes on me, the faint glow of the streetlight catching the sharp lines of his face. For a second, I thought he was going to argue, maybe call me out for enjoying it too much.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just nodded once, jaw tight, and muttered, “Yeah. Right. Selling it.”

The rest of the gang piled into Chris’s car, loud and buzzing with post-game chatter, but I trailed after Matt toward his. After all, I was his girlfriend—it only made sense I left with him.

Once we slid into his car, the energy shifted. The arena’s roar and the chaos of everyone spilling out into the night dimmed, leaving just us, the sound of the engine rumbling quietly as he started it up.

“You did amazing out there,” I said, turning toward him as I buckled my seatbelt.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, his cheeks still a little flushed from the game. “Thanks.”

“I mean it,” I added, “usually hockey boys annoy me. I’m a figure skater—I spend half my life sharing ice time with them. Most of the time, they’re just…loud. Obnoxious.”

Matt chuckled, the sound warm and low in his chest. “Fairs.” He glanced at me, eyes bright under the soft glow of the dashboard. “But I didn’t annoy you tonight?”

“No,” I admitted, a reluctant smile creeping onto my face. “You didn’t.”

He let out a little breath, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel like he was holding something back. Then he looked over again, more serious this time. “So…are we just not gonna address the fact that you kissed me?”

The air in the car thickened instantly. His tone wasn’t accusing, but it wasn’t casual either—it sat in the space between, careful, charged.

“We already did!” I squealed, tilting my head toward him. “And you’re the one who said we didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, but you did anyway,” he said, voice softer this time, like he couldn’t quite help himself.

“As I did, I’m trying to sell our scheme as real,” My lips quirked into a small smile. “Guess I’m just committed to the role.”

Matt’s hand was loose on the wheel, but I could see his jaw shift as he thought. His eyes flicked toward me, steady and questioning.

“You sure about that?” he asked finally, voice low, like he was testing me. “Or were you just trying to kiss me?”

I snapped my head toward him, heat creeping up my neck. “Excuse me?”

His mouth curved into the faintest smirk, but his eyes stayed serious. “I’m just saying…did you do it for the whole fake dating thing, or…was it something else?”

I let out a scoff, leaning back into my seat. “You are in no place to be asking questions right now.”

He tilted his head, teasing. “Oh, I think I am.”

I turned fully toward him, crossing my arms. “For your information, I was just trying to give you a quick peck and move on. You’re the one who practically snobbed my face in front of thousands of people.”

Matt’s laugh filled the car, warm and incredulous. He shook his head, his hand tightening briefly around the steering wheel. “Snobbed your face? That’s how you’re gonna put it?”

“Yes.” I lifted my chin stubbornly, though a smile was tugging at my lips despite myself. “Don’t twist this back on me.”

He glanced at me again, eyes glinting with that same mischievous fire I was starting to recognize too well. “So if I hadn’t…‘snobbed your face,’ you would’ve just left it at a peck?”

“That was the plan,” I said, though my voice didn’t sound nearly as convincing as I wanted it to.

The corner of his mouth tugged upward, and he let the silence stretch, the hum of the car filling the space. “Mm,” he murmured. “I guess I’ll believe that.” 

I couldn’t help but catch onto his flirty tone, the way his voice dipped almost deliberately, how his smirk lingered longer than necessary. For a second, I almost let myself believe there was something real threaded in between the sarcasm and teasing.

But no, that was dangerous thinking.

This was Matt. Funny, easy-going Matt, who always had a joke waiting on his tongue. That was all it was—his humor, his way of turning everything into a game. He was just good at playing his role. 

I shifted in my seat, the car fell quiet, the low hum of the engine filling the silence as the arena lights disappeared behind us.

It isn’t going to be more than fake.

To be fair, I didn’t even like him that way to begin with.

edenmurphy ��၊||၊ • 505 • Arctic Monkeys

liked by matthewsturniolo, julesdefrancis and 300 others...

edenmurphy | the winter I cuffed a hockey boy

view all 105 comments

matthewsturniolo cuffed?

⤷ edenmurphy yes cuffed 🙃

matthewsturniolo four looks pretty on you

⤷ edenmurphy i agree 🙂‍↕️

⤷ matthewsturniolo wear it more often than

⤷ edenmurphy get me more jerseys

julesdefrancis your sexy let's kiss

⤷ edenmurphy let’s kiss wife 💋

julesdefrancis you guys are cute... suspiciously cute

⤷ christophersturniolo you're so right, baby

⤷ edenmurphy julianna. christopher. no.

nicolassturniolo so... matt can make an appearance and I can't :(

⤷ edenmurphy nooo sorry king 😔 ofc you can

nicolassturniolo licking the screen right now 🙈

eleanora.murphy i can't believe my eyes

⤷ edenmurphy then start

christophersturniolo didn't give you permission to post my girl

⤷ edenmurphy n who tf are u?

READ ALL RELEASED PARTS HERE!

[a/n: tried sum a lil new. I love you, mwah!] - ceyana

tags: @chrissturniolodailysluts @charmersturns @jaybirdie34 @oopsiedaisydeer @mattsdivaa @autumnjadesposts @mattysmrwrinkleton @meatballlover10 @fmg05 @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnsfluff @kingofeverythingmb @enviedparty101 @malox12 @wesj11 @delilahsturniolo @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @pair-of-pantaloons @chrisbambi @sturnsobsessed21 @le4hsblog @sturnsheart @carrielovesmatt @lilianasturnsz @courta13 @angelxsturns @sagesturns @beardedbernard @chriss-slutt @sturnsplatter @kiarasmaybank @ifamils

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[courta13]

𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒚𝒔𝒖𝒃!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝑼 requested and credits to the LOVELY @belliejellyx here cw: face sitting, head f!receiving, sub!chriis, humiliation

── .✦ ✮⋆˙. 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆

You were leaning close to the mirror, carefully smoothing out your eyeliner. Your vanity was lit up in warm light, jewelry scattered around from where you’d been debating what to wear. Behind you, on your bed, Chris was suspiciously quiet.

Suspicious, because Chris was never quiet.

You caught his reflection in the mirror—a lanky mess of limbs, sprawled out like he didn’t have a care in the world. But the truth was written in the way his foot tapped against the mattress, the way he kept tugging the drawstrings of his hoodie, winding and unwinding them like he was trying to strangle the nerves out of himself.

“You good back there?” you asked, turning slightly in your chair.

He flinched. “Huh? Yeah. Fine.”

You raised an eyebrow, half smiling. “You’re fidgeting like we're going somewhere important.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” he said instantly, shifting just to cross his arms. “I’m chill. This is me being chill.”

You looked back at your eyeliner, but the corner of your mouth quirked. “Uh-huh.”

A few beats of silence passed, though you could practically feel him burning holes into your back. Then came a long sigh. A shuffle. The creak of your mattress as he sat up straighter.

“Okay, so…” he started, then immediately cut himself off with a groan, flopping backward again. “No, never mind, forget it.”

You capped your eyeliner, swiveling in your chair to face him fully. “Chris. Spit it out.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, covering his face with his hands. “You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“Depends. Is it stupid?” you teased, folding your arms.

“No!” His voice cracked an octave. “I mean—maybe? But not—ugh.” He shoved his hair back, sat up again, and finally blurted in a rush: “I was just thinking that maybe if you wanted—like, if you didn’t have plans right this second—uh—” His words tangled into a mumble before collapsing into silence.

You stared at him, blinking slowly. “Chris. I caught maybe three words of that.”

He groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. “God. I sound insane.”

You pried the pillow away, laughing. “Just say it. You’re acting like you murdered someone.”

His jaw clenched, and then, in a desperate tumble of words, he spat it out: “I just really want you to sit on my face.”

The room went quiet.

He froze, hands gripping the pillow. His face was already beet red, ears flaming, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “I—” He cleared his throat, stammering. “Not, like—right now. I mean—no, I do mean right now, but only if you want to, and it’s not—it’s not, like—God, why did I even—just forget it.”

You blinked at him once, twice, letting the words settle. Chris sat there like he’d just detonated a bomb, waiting for the fallout, his fingers squeezing the pillow so hard the seams strained.

Finally, you tilted your head. “You…” A pause. “…want me to sit on your face?”

His entire body jolted like you’d repeated the answer to a question he wasn’t ready for. “Oh my God, don’t say it like that.” He buried his face in his hands, muffling out a pathetic groan. “I sound like an actual freak. Forget I said anything, okay? Just—pretend I tripped and hit my head or something.”

You fought a smile, moving closer until you were standing over him. He peeked up between his fingers, wide-eyed, before quickly hiding again.

“Chris,” you said softly. “Look at me.”

“No,” he muttered through his palms. “You’re smiling. That’s worse.”

You reached down and gently tugged his wrists until his hands slipped from his face. His cheeks were blazing red, lips parted in panic, every inch of him screaming mortified.

“You could’ve just asked, you know,” you teased, thumb brushing along his jaw.

He gawked at you like you’d just spoken another language. “Wait—you’re—you’re not gonna laugh at me?”

“Oh, I’m for sure lauging,” you said, grinning. “But only because you nearly had a stroke trying to spit it out."

He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Kill me. Ugh."

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Relax,” you murmured. “I accept your request.”

His head snapped forward, eyes wide, voice cracking. “You—you what?”

“You heard me.” You climbed onto the bed, nudging the pillow aside. “Scoot back, genius.”

His jaw dropped, but his body moved before his brain caught up—back hitting the mattress, hair mussing against the sheets, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“This is the best day of my life,” he muttered under his breath, then immediately winced at himself.

You laughed, straddling his hips. “Twenty minutes,” you warned, smoothing your hands across his chest. “Then we have to leave, or we’ll be late.”

He swallowed hard, a dazed grin spreading across his face. “Worth it.”

Your hands pressed to his chest, steadying yourself as you leaned forward, your hair brushing over his face. His breathing hitched immediately, shoulders tensing like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands.

“Relax,” you murmured, smiling down at him. “You’re wound up like a spring.”

“That’s—yeah, that’s kinda your fault,” he shot back, though his voice cracked halfway through. He tried to smirk, but his lips twitched nervously, giving him away completely.

You tilted your head. “So needy you can’t even sit still?”

“Not needy,” he argued automatically, though the blush flooding his face ruined him. “…Just, I dunno. Dying a little.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, dragging your nails lightly over his hoodie. He shivered beneath you, eyes darting away. “You’re ridiculous,” you teased, leaning closer until your lips brushed his ear. “And cute.”

He groaned like the word physically hurt him. “Stop. Don’t—don’t call me that right now.”

“What, cute?” you whispered again, purposefully soft.

He squeezed his eyes shut, like he could block you out, but the way his hips shifted under you gave him away. “You’re sadistic,” he muttered. “You actually enjoy this.”

“Mmhm.” You kissed the corner of his jaw, then his cheek, slow and deliberate, until you finally sat up and tugged your skirt higher around your thighs. His eyes snapped open, widening as realization hit.

“Wait—you’re serious? You’re actually—” He bit down on his lip, trying not to look like the world’s most eager puppy.

“Serious,” you confirmed, shifting up and bracing your hands above his shoulders. “But if you’re gonna whine about how embarrassing it is, I can still change my mind.”

“No!” His hands shot up, gripping your waist. “No, I’ll shut up, I swear.”

You smirked, leaning down to kiss him once, soft but teasing. “Good boy.”

That broke him completely. His head thunked back against the pillow, a helpless laugh slipping out of him. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You suck.”

You shifted higher on the bed, and Chris’s eyes followed every movement like he was starved. His fingers dug into your waist as if anchoring himself to reality, and when you swung a leg over his chest, his breath stuttered.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, almost reverent.

“Relax,” you teased, settling above him. “It’s just me.”

“That’s the problem,” he shot back instantly, voice low and shaky. “It’s you.”

Your heart skipped, but you kept your smirk, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Then quit stalling.”

And before he could choke out another half-formed protest, you lowered yourself onto him.

The sound he made—half-groan, half-sigh—shot straight through you. His grip on your thighs tightened as his tongue moved against you, slow at first, exploratory, until your hips jerked involuntarily. He groaned again, the vibration making you gasp, and that seemed to flip a switch in him.

He got greedy.

Chris devoured you like he’d been waiting forever for this moment. Every flick of his tongue sent shocks through your body, and you grabbed the headboard for balance, breath spilling out in broken gasps.

“Chris—oh my God—”

He only doubled down at the sound of his name, pulling you lower, urging you to grind against him. His nails dug into your skin, but the desperation in his touch was almost endearing—like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship you or completely ruin you.

You glanced down, catching sight of his flushed face beneath you. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, and when you whimpered, he actually smiled against you, cocky even while he was drowning in it.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you panted, rocking against him.

He pulled back just enough to mutter, voice wrecked, “Told you. Best day of my life.” Then he was back on you, tongue insistent, greedy, until your legs trembled around his head.

The knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, until you couldn’t hold it anymore. You cried out, head tipping back as the pleasure ripped through you, hot and dizzying, your thighs trembling against his cheeks. Chris didn’t let up—not for a second. His tongue lapped through every rush of wetness, greedy and desperate, his mouth sticky and loud against you. The sounds—slick, obscene, hungry—only made it worse, sent you spiraling higher as he sucked and groaned like he’d die if he stopped.

Your body shook, overstimulated, every nerve alight, but he held you down firmly, forcing you to ride it out. Every time you tried to squirm away, he dragged you right back onto his mouth, his grip unyielding, his tongue relentless. He pulled every last shudder, every broken moan out of you until you collapsed forward, chest heaving, tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

Finally, you managed to half-roll off him, boneless and gasping for air. But Chris didn’t stop. His hands gripped your thighs again, dragging you back, and before you could catch your breath he buried his face against you once more.

“Chris—!” you gasped, voice wrecked, thighs twitching as fresh waves of sensitivity sparked.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against you, and the wet, hungry drag of his tongue made you sob out his name. He was drowning himself in it, sloppy and shameless, lips and chin slick with you as he sucked like he couldn’t get enough.

When you finally pushed yourself off, he looked absolutely wrecked—hair sticking up in every direction, lips swollen, chin glistening—but the grin plastered on his face was triumphant.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, still catching your breath.

“You love it,” he said smugly, voice hoarse.

You smacked his chest, though you were smiling. “We’re late, by the way.”

Chris blinked at the clock, then at you, and burst out laughing. “Worth it.”

Twenty minutes later, the two of you slipped into the restaurant where your friends were already seated. Conversations lulled as every head turned your way.

“You’re late,” Matt said flatly, suspicion heavy in his tone.

Chris tried for innocence, tugging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands. “Traffic.”

Nick’s brows shot up. “We live five minutes away.”

Everyone’s eyes narrowed.

You busied yourself with the menu, biting back a smile. Chris was still flushed, still jittery, and when your knees brushed under the table, he nearly knocked over his water.

“Uh-huh,” Matt said slowly, eyes flicking between you both. “Traffic.”

Chris sank lower in his seat. “Shut up.”

a/n - wonderful request muahahhaa!! sorry for the lazy format i gotta sleep </3

@chrisbratt333 @courta13 @matts-babytomatoes @lilyswirly @chrisspussygang

@sorrybirds @mattslilies @emely9274 @everythingaboutbags @httpssturns

@raeses @izzylovesmatt @ajskorner @le4hsblog @nessaisabelartemas333

@wesj11 @lino2319 @alwaysiconick @anisturniolox @ilovesamgoldencoch

@eeyoresturnz @salaciousxsturniolo @alwaysiconick @mattspillowprincess @mattsturnioloss

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@stevielovesmatt @chriss-slutt @surprisecurlyfriess @auttysturnz @mattsturnsangel @bernardsbloopers

@drcamin

[courta13]

𓏲 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𓂅

⤷ a matt sturniolo series ౨ৎ

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . you and your friends are stuck on a deserted road after your rv breaks down, you all face a deadly game when a mysterious shooter demands the truth about a long-buried secret. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, you and matt’s fragile connection is tested, but the real danger might be closer than anyone suspects. in the end, nothing is as it seems, and the story you thought you knew is just beginning.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . violence, physical restraint, murder attempt.

⤷ this is inspired by the book “five survive” by holly jackson! the basic premise will be similar to the book but there are no characters from the book in this series and a lot of plot points will be changed.

CHAPTER SEVEN ♡ THE TRUTH

view other parts here

it happens fast. nick’s still crouched by the crawlspace, flipping through the notebook when his eyes widen. “guys…there’s one more page.” he turns it over. your name is there. in bold, heavy ink, but not crossed out. yet.

you barely have time to process it before movement flashes in your peripheral vision. zoe is standing, shoulders tight, hands trembling. not in fear, but in barely-contained rage. “you weren’t supposed to find that,” she says, voice low and dangerous.

sadie backs up a step. “zoe…what the hell is this?”

zoe laughs, a sound too sharp, too bitter. “what do you think it is? it’s the truth.” matt steps in front of you instinctively, protective, while chris pushes off the counter, confusion cutting into anger. “what are you talking about?”

and then zoe laughs. a hollow, broken sound. “you still don’t get it, do you? all of this, everything, it was me.” the silence that follows is suffocating.

“i planned it. i planned every second,” she spits, her words tumbling out now, furious and frantic. “i hired him. the shooter. he was supposed to scare you, corner you, break you. i fed him everything. your patterns, your words, your weaknesses. all of it.”

your stomach drops so violently you swear you might be sick. “tyler wasn’t supposed to die,” she admits, voice cracking, but her hands ball into fists. “that wasn’t the plan. but sometimes accidents happen. and accidents happen, don’t they?”

sadie gasps, stumbling back against the wall. “oh my god…” chris lunges forward, fury in every line of his body, but matt holds him back with one arm, never taking his eyes off zoe.

“why?” you whisper. your voice doesn’t even sound like yours. “why would you do this?” zoe’s eyes dart to you, and there’s something venomous in her smile. “because, i have a gut feeling you have something to do with emma’s death. this was all so you can confess your little crime.” she steps closer.

“are you out of your mind!? i didn’t do anything—“

the next moment is a blur. she lunges. you don’t see the knife in her hand until it glints in the dim light. matt grabs you, shoving you back so hard you slam against the cabinet. your body thrums with panic, with rage, with the realization she’s trying to kill you, so your name can be crossed off from her list.

“zoe, stop!” chris yells, tackling her, but she fights like someone possessed, screaming incoherent confessions as she thrashes. “i did it for control!” she howls. “i orchestrated everything—you were just pieces on the board!”

you’re half-sobbing, half-struggling, trying to break free to fight her yourself, but matt holds you back firmly, his grip unyielding. “don’t,” he breathes into your ear, grounding you even as chaos explodes. “don’t give her what she wants.”

nick and sadie rush in, helping chris pin zoe down, wrenching the knife from her hands. she kicks, spits, curses, her mask completely gone now. “you don’t get it!” she screams, voice breaking as they tie her wrists with duct tape ripped from the drawer. “you’re not safe, you never will be!”

your blood runs cold.

nick scrambles for the walkie, switches the channel, hands shaking as he radios for help. “this is an emergency. we’ve got someone down, tried to kill us—we need extraction now!” the minutes drag like hours, but eventually headlights slash across the trees outside. the rescue vehicle pulls up, doors flung open, voices calling for you.

you watch as zoe gets dragged out in cuffs. she thrashes, still screaming about everything, until they force her down and into the van. you stand there, trembling, as the night finally cracks open. chris’s arms wrap around you tight, nick joining the hug, sadie burying her face against your shoulder. then matt…always matt, pulls you close, steady and solid against the chaos.

you watch as zoe disappears, swallowed by flashing red and blue lights. you climb into the rescue van together. it’s cramped, loud, but you don’t care. you sink against matt’s chest, his arm wrapping protectively around you, your hand finding his in the dark. you cling to each other as the van rattles down the road, away from the nightmare.

but her words don’t leave you. the truth doesn’t leave you.

the killer of emma calloway and the shooter she hired is still out there, lurking. they could be anywhere. watching you, looking for you, or even right behind you. your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion pulling you under.

you know deep down this isn’t over. you thought this was the end. stories like these never truly end, they carry on, they get new storytellers. so sit up. look around. and then close your eyes. whose story are you in now?

© delilahsturniolo

(here’s an explanation for the ending!!!!!!)

[courta13]

𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶 [06]

Welcome to Vivianne Hall, in which...

Edenella Murphy is pretty, young, and untamable. Matthew Sturniolo is handsome, steady, and quietly protective. When Eden is pushed toward an arranged marriage, Matt—unable to ignore his soft spot for her—steps in with an unexpected solution: a fake relationship. But as the act plays out, the line between pretend and something real begins to blur…

Warnings: crying

Chapter 06: Good Boy

── ✮ MATTHEW

“Matt, I’m so confused right now.”

Nick’s voice cut sharply through my ears, making me groan as I dragged myself into his room.

“Why are you guys so damn loud?” I muttered, collapsing face-first onto Nick’s bed. The mattress dipped under me as I sprawled out, already regretting coming in here.

Nick leaned against his desk, arms crossed, eyebrows raised like he was about to interrogate me. “Loud? Matt, we’re not loud—we’re just trying to figure out how the hell you pulled a girlfriend out your ass.”

Chris dropped onto the bed beside me with a dramatic bounce, shaking the whole frame. “Yeah,” he added, grinning in disbelief. “Like, one minute you’re single, and the next minute you’ve got Eden on your arm. You can’t just drop that on us, bro.”

I turned my head just enough to glare at them through my hair. “You guys make it sound like I’m some loser incapable of dating. I’m twenty-one.”

Nick snorted. “Not incapable—just uninterested. You’ve literally dodged every girl that’s tried to talk to you since sophomore year.”

Chris jabbed a finger into my shoulder. “Exactly. And now suddenly you’re Mr. Commitment? With her? Eden Murphy isn’t just anyone, dude. She’s… well, my girls' best friend.”

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to let the weight of their suspicion show on my face. The last thing I needed was my brothers sniffing too close to the truth. 

“Things just… happened, okay? Sometimes it’s like that.”

Nick tilted his head, skeptical. “Happened? You mean to tell me you, who overthinks literally everything, just accidentally fell into a relationship?”

Chris raised his eyebrows, grinning like he’d caught me. “Yeah, come on, Matt. Spill. Did you like her before? Is that why you never told us? Or is this some big secret fling you’ve been hiding?”

Their voices blended together, relentless. I rubbed my temples, my heart hammering in my chest—not from guilt, but from panic. They were too close. Too curious.

“Jesus,” I muttered, sitting up. “Can you two stop acting like dickheads? Not everything needs a breakdown. I like Eden. She likes me. End of story.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. Chris grinned wider. Neither of them looked convinced. 

Nick’s skeptical expression softened just a bit, and he leaned back in his chair. “To be fair…” he said slowly, “I have seen you blush around her for a while now.”

My head snapped toward him. “Blush?” I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “You guys are imagining things.”

“Nope,” Nick said flatly, smirking. “I notice everything. You get all stiff and awkward when she’s around, like you don’t know what to do with your hands. Classic Matt move. So, honestly, it kinda makes sense now.”

Chris leaned closer, grin wide and teasing. “So wait… how long have you been into her? Don’t tell me this whole ‘we just started dating’ thing is a lie. Have you been pining for her this whole time?”

I scoffed, forcing a laugh even though my chest felt tight. “God, you two sound like gossiping girls. Can you chill?”

Nick raised his brows. “That’s not a no.”

Chris pointed at me triumphantly. “Exactly. That is not a no.”

I shook my head, pretending to brush it off, but my mind was racing. Nick’s comment sat heavy with me—because if he’d noticed me acting different around Eden, what if other people had too? What if my brothers started putting together pieces I hadn’t even realized I was dropping?

Nick smirked knowingly, like he could read my thoughts. “You know, for a guy who keeps telling us to shut up, you’re not doing a great job at hiding how flustered you are right now.”

Chris nudged me in the ribs. “Just admit it, man. You’ve had a crush forever. Honestly, it’s kinda cute.”

I shot him a look, but the way his grin only widened made my stomach twist.

I couldn’t hide it from them. 

They saw right through me. 

“Alright,” I muttered, my voice sharp. “If I tell you something, you cannot—” I looked between them, making sure they were listening, “—I mean, cannot tell a fucking soul. Got it?”

Their eyes lit up instantly, both leaning forward like kids about to hear ghost stories.

“Got it,” Nick said quickly. 

“Swear on my life,” Chris added, holding up two fingers like he was taking an oath.

I hesitated, my chest tightening. This was it. If I said the words, there was no taking them back. But I was too tired of dodging their looks and their questions.

“It’s not real,” I said finally, my voice low.

For a second, silence. Just two pairs of eyes blinking at me.

Then Chris frowned. “What?”

Nick leaned forward. “What do you mean by ‘not real’?”

I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. “I mean… Eden and I aren’t actually together. We’re not dating. We’re just… I’m just helping her with something.”

Their jaws dropped in unison, like it was rehearsed.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Chris said, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

Nick blinked, his brows pulling together. “Wait—so all that earlier? The hand-holding, the smiling, the boyfriend shit… it’s fake?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, staring at the floor. “All of it. We made a deal. I’m just helping her out, and in return, she helps me keep certain people off my back. That’s it.”

Chris let out a low whistle, shaking his head in awe. “Holy shit…”

Nick’s eyes stayed locked on me, sharper than before. He tilted his head slightly, almost like he was piecing a puzzle together. “Wait,” he said slowly, “does this whole… you helping her thing have anything to do with her—” he stopped, glanced briefly at Chris, then dropped his voice, “—parents and the arrangement stuff?”

My chest tightened. My eyes widened before I could stop myself. “You… you know about that?”

Nick gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. She told me about a year ago. Said her parents were trying to set her up with some guy.”

Beside him, Chris blinked between us, completely lost. “Hold on—what the hell are you two talking about? What arrangement? What guy?”

“Mind your business, weirdass,” Nick muttered, his tone dismissive as he leaned back against the headboard.

Chris threw his arms up in frustration. “Seriously? You’re both just gonna sit there acting like I’m not in the room? Just tell me! Don’t start a whole mysterious-ass conversation in front of me and then shut me out.”

I stood abruptly, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. The air in the room felt heavier now, my chest weighed down with too much unsaid. “You wanna know so bad?” I said, giving Chris a pointed look as I walked toward the door. “Go ask your girlfriend. Maybe she’ll fill you in. But you didn’t hear anything from me.”

Chris’s mouth dropped open. “What the fuck, Matt? That’s not an answer.”

But I was already at the door, hand gripping the handle. I glanced back once, meeting Nick’s eyes. Then I turned, opened the door, and stepped out before either of those idiots could push further.

The sharp chill of the rink air hit me as soon as I stepped inside, hockey bag slung over my shoulder. The sound of blades scraping against the ice echoed faintly from the arena—some of the guys were already warming up. I adjusted my grip on the strap, head down, just trying to get into the right headspace.

“Matt?”

The voice stopped me in my tracks. Too familiar. Too sharp.

I lifted my head, and there she was. Chloe. Standing near the entryway to the stands like she’d been waiting, hair perfect, arms crossed with that half-smirk I knew all too well.

For a second, I just stared, thrown off balance. Of all places, of all times—why here?

“Chloe,” I muttered, my tone flat. “What are you doing here?”

She stepped closer, her boots clicking against the floor, eyes locked on me with that same confident glint she always had. “What? I can’t stop by the rink anymore? Last I checked, I spent more time here than half your teammates.”

I tightened my jaw, shifting the bag higher on my shoulder. “That was before.”

Her smile softened, just barely.

“So it’s true then,” she said. “You’re really with her. Eden, right?” She tilted her head, studying my face like she could read every flicker of reaction. “Funny, you didn’t exactly strike me as the ‘serious relationship’ type when we were together.” 

I exhaled slowly, biting back the irritation crawling up my chest. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“Oh, don’t I?” she teased, taking another step closer. “Because it’s all over campus. Everyone’s talking. The mysterious Sturniolo finally settled down. I couldn’t believe it until I saw you two at the dining hall last week… holding hands.” She arched a brow. “Tell me, Matt. Is she really worth all this?” 

I stared at her for a long moment, fighting to keep my face calm, unreadable. The last thing I needed was Chloe sniffing out the truth.

Finally, I straightened, letting my voice go low and firm. “Yeah. She is.”

I walked past her toward the locker room doors, not giving her another glance, even though I could feel her eyes burning into my back. 

“Matt, wait.”

Her voice followed me before I could disappear into the locker room. Something in her tone made me pause, even though every part of me screamed to keep walking.

“It’s funny, you know…” Chloe’s boots clicked against the floor as she closed the distance. I turned slightly, just enough to see her face. Her smile was gone now, replaced with something almost… hopeful. 

“Funny how?” I asked, my voice edged with confusion.

She folded her arms, tilting her head. “Eden. She looks somewhat like me, doesn’t she?” Her eyes searched mine, narrowing as though she was waiting for me to admit it. “Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Same kind of… vibe.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Don’t act dumb, Matt.” Her lips curved into the faintest smile, but her voice was softer now, more pointed. “We break up, and then suddenly your new girlfriend is a carbon copy of me. Don’t try to lie—you know it too. Tell me… do you miss me?”

For a second, the question just hung there, heavy between us. I stared at her, the sharp fluorescent lights of the rink reflecting in her eyes. She was waiting for me to slip. To admit something. To give her the tiniest crack to climb through.

Finally, I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “You’ve got it wrong.”

Her brows furrowed, lips parting to speak, but I cut her off.

“Eden’s nothing like you,” I said, my tone clipped. “Her eyes aren’t blue—they’re green. And trust me, Chloe, there’s not a single part of her that reminds me of you.”

Chloe blinked, her hopeful expression faltering. 

Eden wasn’t a copy of Chloe. Chloe was a copy of Eden.

The difference between them was night and day. Chloe had always been surface-level charm—pretty face, quick smile, and just enough wit to keep conversations going. She was safe, predictable even. I never had to worry about her shaking up my world because she wasn’t capable of it.

Eden… Eden was a storm wrapped in elegance. She had the kind of presence that filled every room she walked into, whether she was speaking or silent. Her laugh didn’t just sound nice—it made you want to laugh with her. When she was mad, you felt it in your bones. When she was focused, you couldn’t look away. 

The ugly truth was that Chloe did remind me of Eden—back then. I hadn’t admitted it to anyone, not even to myself at the time, but it was the reason I let Chloe in at all. Two years ago, when Eden started dating that guy on campus, I knew she was off-limits. Watching her with him had been like getting punched in the gut on repeat. I was crushed, and then Chloe appeared at the right time, all smiles and interest. 

So I settled.

Did I love her? No. But I liked her enough. Enough to distract myself, enough to convince myself I could move on. But she was never Eden. She wasn’t the person I wanted—she never even came close.

“Matt?”

The sound of her voice was warm, teasing, and pulled me out of my head instantly. I turned, and there she was.

Eden.

She was walking toward me across the rink hallway, her skating bag slung casually over her shoulder, hair tied back in a sleek bun. Her figure skating outfit clung to her like it was made for her alone—glittering, elegant, and yet somehow still understated compared to the way she carried herself.

Her eyes flicked from me to Chloe in an instant, sharp and calculating. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey, baby,” she said smoothly, stepping right into my space. Her hand brushed against mine, deliberate. “What’s up?”

The way she looked at Chloe was enough to make the tension between us electric.

I forced a small smile, my chest loosening just a little at her presence. “Just…getting to practice,” I muttered, my voice low. 

Chloe stiffened at the words, her lips pressing into a thin line. Eden didn’t even blink.

Instead, Eden tilted her head slightly, her eyes still fixed on Chloe with a cool kind of politeness. Her tone was edged but casual when she finally spoke. “Hey, Chloe.”

“Hey,” Chloe muttered, her voice quieter now.

Eden gave her a small smile before sliding her attention back to me, fingertips tracing lazily down my arm. My pulse kicked up instantly. She leaned in, her voice light but deliberate. “You’re still coming to the party tonight, right? I was hoping you’d pick me up from my room.”

I caught on to her game in an instant. “Of course. I even have a surprise for you.”

Eden gasped dramatically, eyes widening like I’d just promised her the world. “A surprise? Seriously, Matt? That’s like… almost every day.”

I smirked, trying to play it off, though her hand still resting on me made it hard to think. “Can’t help it,” I said with a shrug. “You're easy to spoil.” 

Chloe shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking between us before she let out a sharp scoff and turned away. Without another word, she stalked off across the rink, her ponytail bouncing behind her. 

The second she was out of earshot, Eden and I both broke, stifling chuckles that echoed louder than we meant.

“Don’t laugh, Matt,” Eden scolded, smacking my arm lightly.

“Why not?” I asked, grinning.

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened. “Because she’s still your ex. No matter what, she deserves a little respect. Don’t be a dick about it.”

Her words surprised me.

Even in her fake-girlfriend act, Eden’s heart had this way of sneaking through. It wasn’t jealousy in her tone, it was… genuine, like she meant it.

I sighed slightly, watching her expression, the faint flush on her cheeks from skating. “You’re right,” I admitted quietly. 

For a moment, she held my gaze, then smiled, soft and real this time, not the playful mask she wore around Chloe. 

And I swear, just like that, I forgot where I was.

“Wait—there’s actually a party tonight?” I asked, raising a brow.

Eden nodded, lips curving into a smile. “Yeah, there is. You’re coming, right?”

I hesitated, already knowing I had planned to stay in and crash after practice. But the way she looked at me, expectant, made the word no impossible to say.

She caught my pause instantly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want—”

“I’m coming,” I cut in, a little too quickly. “It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway.”

Her grin widened into something bright and unguarded. “Okay!” she squealed, actually bouncing on her toes. “Have a good practice, Sunshine. I’ll see you soon.”

And just like that, she spun away, light on her feet as she practically hopped across the rink in her skates. I stood there for a moment, watching her disappear, the word Sunshine still ringing in my head.

I couldn’t lie, I really did take pride in the fact that she called me a random ass nickname. 

Practice was a blur. I ran drills, took shots, and even heard the coach bark corrections at me.

By the time I hit the showers, the clock had slipped past eight. Guys on my team were already making plans for the night, joking about who’d get drunk first, but my mind was set on one thing. Eden.

Her dorm wasn’t far from the rink, just a five-minute walk. My heart picked up the closer I got, like this wasn’t just part of our act anymore. 

Like I was about to pick up my girl for a night out.

I shot her a quick text: I’m here.

Seconds later, the lobby doors swung open, and there she was—Eden, stepping out like she owned the night.

Fuck.

My jaw nearly hit the ground. She wasn’t dressed like anyone else headed to a college party—she was dressed like Eden, unapologetic and impossible to ignore.

Her leopard-print top clung to her figure, leaving just enough skin bare to make my pulse quicken, while her mini skirt—black denim with a fur-trimmed hem—hugged her hips in a way that made me forget every thought I had before this moment. She was a mix of wild and reckless that screamed trouble.

She spotted me instantly and grinned, strutting closer with a sway in her hips like she knew I was already a goner.

“Hey, Sunshine,” she drawled, her voice dripping with playful confidence. Her eyes flicked over me like I see you staring. 

I swallowed hard, forcing my mouth to work. “You’re…” My voice cracked, and I quickly cleared my throat. “You look pretty.”

Eden tipped her hat, smiling. “Pretty? I was going more for like…sexy. But pretty works.”

Sexy wasn’t strong enough of a word. 

I exhaled a laugh, still staring like an idiot. 

She had a jacket in her hand, and she put it on, since it was still snowing outside.

“You're not a controlling boyfriend, right, Matt?” she said teasingly, brushing past me to the car, her perfume leaving me dizzy. “My outfit doesn’t bother you?" she giggled." You're not gonna go tell me to change, right?”

It did bother me. Not in the way she was taught, though. 

“Wear what you want, Luna,” I said, trying to play along. “I’ll fight them.” 

I opened the door for her, still stunned, still trying to remind myself this was supposed to be fake.

Just a game.

But damn… in that moment, there wasn’t a single part of me that felt like I was playing. 

Vivianne Hall was notorious for its no-party culture. Everyone knew the rule—try to throw something on campus, and you were practically begging for suspension. So the real fun always happened off-campus, tucked away in rented Airbnbs at least ten minutes from school grounds.

By the time we pulled up, the bass from inside was already rattling the windows. Eden tugged off her jacket the second we parked and hopped out, her heels clicking against the pavement. She grabbed my hand and broke into a half-sprint toward the door, laughing breathlessly. Watching her try to run in those heeled boots nearly killed me—I couldn’t stop laughing as I chased after her.

Inside, it was chaos: dim lights, the sharp smell of liquor, music pounding hard enough to shake the floor. Eden didn’t flinch—she thrived in this environment. She was magnetic, pulling people’s eyes without even trying. If the lights belonged to the DJ, the room still revolved around her.

“Drinks first,” she grinned, tugging me toward the kitchen. We each grabbed a red cup, Eden tossing hers back like she’d been waiting all week for this. My stomach burned after the first sip, but she just licked her lips and smiled like it was nothing.

Before I could say anything, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then up at me. “Jules texted—she and Chris are here. I’m gonna go find her.”

I nodded, swallowing another mouthful of whatever was in my cup. “Go ahead, I’ll be around.”

She leaned in close, her perfume curling around me as she squeezed my arm. “Don’t miss me too much,” she teased, then disappeared into the crowd.

Left alone, I wove my way through bodies until I found the familiar corner where my team had already claimed a couch. The guys spotted me immediately, drinks in hand, grins sharp as ever.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” one of them said, smirking. “I see you, my man.”

The laughter started almost instantly. Another chimed in, nudging my shoulder. “Bro, you brought her? No wonder you’re late. Bet you didn’t even make it out of the lobby before—”

“—Before what?” I cut him off, raising a brow.

“Before you fucked her,” he said bluntly, the guys erupting into howls of laughter. 

I shot him a look. 

“What? You telling me you didn’t?” 

“I’m telling you to shut the fuck up.” 

And he did. 

I rolled my eyes, but they kept pressing. “Seriously, though, I can’t blame you. She’s a good choice, man. Your nights seem occupied.”

I sat back against the couch, letting them have their fun until the smirks got too wide. Finally, I shook my head, voice steady. “She’s not my hookup, if that's what you're thinking.” That shut them up for a second. I looked each of them in the eye before finishing, “She’s my girlfriend.”

The laughter died into surprised whistles and muttered damns. One of the guys leaned forward, brows raised. “For real? You’re telling us Eden’s off-limits?”

“You're right,” I said, a smirk tugging at my mouth. “She’s with me.”

Not actually, but they didn’t need to know that. 

The conversations with the guys blurred together after a while, until I spotted Jules weaving her way down the staircase. I excused myself and stood, heading over.

“Hey Jules,” I called.

Her face lit up when she saw me. “Hey, Matt. How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” I said, studying her expression. “You and Chris having fun?”

A faint blush crept across her cheeks at the mention of my brother. “Yeah. We’re actually heading out now.”

My brows rose. “Oh? That’s quick.”

She gave a small shrug, her lips tugging into a shy smile.

“Cool, cool,” I nodded. Then, lowering my voice a little, I asked, “So… where’s Eden?”

Jules’ grin widened knowingly. “Playing your role pretty damn well,” she teased, shooting me a wink.

That pulled a smile from me before I could stop it.

“She’s upstairs,” Jules added, leaning closer as though passing along a secret. “Might wanna find her before she ends up plastered in a corner.”

We both laughed, but there was an edge of truth in her warning. Eden could handle herself, but I knew how easily she threw herself into the chaos of a party.

“Thanks,” I said, giving her a nod before parting ways.

I climbed the stairs two at a time, pushing past couples making out against the walls and people stumbling through the hall with red cups. The music was louder up here, thumping through the floors, but I kept scanning room after room. 

No Eden.

My steps carried me deeper into the house, down a narrower hallway where it was darker, quieter. I was starting to wonder if Jules had sent me on a wild goose chase when a voice carried faintly from one of the side rooms. 

Eden’s.

I slowed, my chest tightening.

But then—another voice overlapped hers. A man’s. Low, familiar.

Lucian.

I froze just outside the cracked door, the sound of Eden’s sharp voice spilling into the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, Lucian, are you serious right now? Leave me the hell alone.”

Her tone was low, but it carried the kind of bite I’d only heard when she was truly pissed.

Lucian chuckled, that smooth, infuriating voice I remembered from campus. “Come on, Eden. Don’t act like you don’t feel it. I see the way you still look at me.”

I felt my jaw tighten as I pressed closer to the door, heat rising in my chest.

Eden scoffed, her laugh humorless. “Oh yeah? And I should’ve seen the way you were looking at Yasmine all that time ago. Practically undressing her with your eyes will you were fucking holding me.”

The hell…did he cheat on her? I just realized I never found out why they broke up. 

There was a pause, then his voice, lower this time. “Are you… jealous?”

My stomach clenched, waiting.

“No, the hell I’m not,” Eden shot back instantly, her words sharp enough to cut. “Not anymore.”

Lucian’s chuckle rumbled again, arrogant. “That’s not what it sounds like to me.”

“Don’t twist my words,” she snapped. “I stopped giving a damn about you the second you made that choice. And for the record, Yasmine can have you. I don’t want you.”

The silence that followed was thick, like even Lucian hadn’t expected her to bite back that hard.

“You don’t mean that,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.

Eden’s tone softened—but not in the way he wanted. It was controlled, final. “I mean every damn word. I don’t miss you, I don’t want you, and I sure as hell don’t need you following me around at a party. So why don’t you do us both a favor and walk the fuck away?”

My hands curled into fists, fighting the urge to storm in.

Lucian’s laugh cut through the tension, low and mocking. “So that’s it, huh? I see you’re with a Sturniolo now. Tell me, Eden—why? You trying to get into that family’s good graces? Didn’t think you were the type of girl to climb the social ladder.”

I froze, my jaw clenching so tight it hurt.

Inside, Eden’s gasp was audible, sharp, and offended. “Are you out of your damn mind? You think I’m with him because of his last name?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Lucian said smoothly, voice dripping with condescension. “You never cared about hockey before. Now suddenly you’re on the arm of one of the most talked-about players at Vivianne? Come on, Eden—you really expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”

“You’re disgusting,” Eden shot back, her voice trembling—but not with weakness. It was fury. “Matt is an amazing guy. He’s—” she stopped herself, then exhaled slowly. “ —he’s mine. And if you think I’d ever lower myself to be with someone for the sake of climbing some stupid social ladder, then you never knew me at all.” 

Lucian snorted, his tone dripping with arrogance. “Oh, I knew you, Eden. Trust me—I knew you better than anyone.”

Her response came sharp, like steel cutting through the air. “No, Lucian. You knew who I was when I loved you.” She paused, her voice laced with venom now. “Why the hell are you even here? Are you just trying to fuck with me? Or is Yasmine not entertaining you enough tonight?”

There was a beat of silence before Lucian’s voice dropped low, almost taunting. 

“So you don’t love me anymore?”

I stiffened against the wall, every muscle in my body coiled tight as I waited for her answer. Seconds ticked by, and when none came, unease clawed at my chest.

Lucian pounced on the silence. “See?” His tone turned smug again. “You still love me.”

Finally, Eden’s voice broke through, steady and full of fire. “I don’t love you,” she said. Each word was deliberate, carved into stone. “And I’ll never fucking love you again.”

Lucian went quiet—a silence so heavy I could almost hear his ego crumbling.

My fists clenched at my sides, jaw aching from grinding my teeth. I couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand here like a coward listening to him try to twist her, try to make her doubt herself. Rage burned hot in my chest, and before I knew it, I was turning, heading back down the stairs, each step echoing with the weight of my anger. 

Downstairs, the party felt wrong. The laughter and music grated against my ears. I pushed past people without really seeing them, the knot in my chest tightening with every breath. My thoughts spun out—images of Eden upstairs, Lucian’s smug face, the tremor in her voice when she admitted she used to love him. It messed with me in a way I didn’t want to admit.

I was halfway to the door when movement caught my eye. 

Eden.

She rushed down the staircase, her movements frantic, like she was searching for something—or someone. Her usually composed expression was gone, her eyes wide and glistening under the lights. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was the faint shimmer of tears threatening to spill. 

My chest clenched.

Before I could even call her name, her gaze landed on me, and relief broke across her face like the sun cracking through clouds. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t care who was watching. She came straight to me, weaving through the crowd until she was right in front of me.

“Matt,” she breathed, almost desperate. Her hand grabbed mine like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground. “Can we go? Please?”

I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. My answer came instantly, firm and certain. “Yes. Of course.”

I squeezed her hand, already guiding her toward the door, blocking out the music, the people, and the house. 

When we reached the car, she slipped her jacket back on, tugging it tightly around her shoulders like armor. Her eyes stayed down, avoiding mine, lashes still damp.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I turned to her, keeping my voice low. “You okay?”

She gave a quick nod, not meeting my gaze. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

The words were automatic—flat, rehearsed. And I didn’t believe them for a second.

I watched her for a moment, the way she folded into herself, arms crossed, staring out the window like she was trying to disappear into the glass. My jaw tightened.

“You hungry?” I asked, starting the engine.

Her head shook. “No. I’m fine, Matt.”

That answer again. Fine. She wasn’t fine.

“Yeah, well,” I said, pulling out of the driveway, “we’ll just grab something quick and eat in the car.”

This time, she didn’t argue. She just nodded faintly, still staring out into the dark streets as the house and the pounding bass of the party faded into the distance.

My hands tightened on the wheel. If she needed silence, I’d give her silence. If she needed food, I’d get her food. Whatever it took, I wasn’t going to just drive her back and drop her off like nothing happened. 

Not after the way she looked back there. 

I pulled into a little burger spot that was still glowing open, the neon lights buzzing in the quiet night. Eden didn’t even react, just kept her head leaned against the glass, watching the blur of passing cars with that same distant look.

“Stay here,” I told her softly. 

Inside, the place was half-empty. I ordered two burgers, fries, and without even thinking twice, I added a hot tea to the order. The words had left my mouth before I could stop them.

When the bag was warm in my hands, I jogged back to the car. She was still sitting there, curled up in the passenger seat, jacket pulled close, her face glowing faintly from the dashboard lights.

Sliding back in, I handed her the burger first. “Here. Eat.”

She took it without protest, unwrapping it quietly. For a second, I thought that was all—but then I set the steaming cup down in her hands.

She blinked, glancing at it. “What’s this?”

“Tea,” I said, trying to sound casual.

Her eyes lifted to mine, surprised. “How do you know I like tea?”

For a split second, my mind blanked. Shit. I hadn’t thought that far. I could see her studying me, like she was trying to piece it together, trying to decide if there was more to the story.

“You told me once,” I said quickly, leaning back against my seat and unwrapping my own burger. “Figured you still did.”

She looked at me for a moment longer, her lips parting slightly like she wanted to press them. But then she just shook her head softly and blew on the cup before taking a sip.

A tiny smile flickered across her face, the first one I’d seen since we left the party. “It’s good.”

I tried not to show how much relief that gave me. “Told you.”

She leaned back into the seat, her body finally loosening, the tea cup balanced between her hands. “I talked to my ex,” she said suddenly, voice flat.

I froze mid-bite. “Oh,” I muttered, playing dumb even though I already knew. “Lucian?”

She nodded, her teeth sinking into her burger like she needed the food just to keep herself grounded.

“And?” I asked carefully.

Her laugh came out sharp and humorless. “I just realized why I hate him so much.” She stared out the windshield, watching the empty parking lot lit up by yellow streetlights. “That’s why I was so upset.”

I nodded slowly. “Why’d you guys break up?” I already had a damn good guess, but I wanted to hear it from her.

“He cheated,” she said simply, like she was dropping a stone into water.

Ah. There it was. 

“Last year,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, though her jaw tightened, “I found him during another party actually. He was mid-stroke.”

I nearly choked on my fry. “Jesus—” I cut myself off, eyes flicking to her.

She chuckled at my expression, the sound brittle but real. “Yeah. Not my finest moment. Walking in on your boyfriend screwing someone else in the middle of a crowded house—kind of kills the romance.”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “That’s… messed up, Luna.”

“Yeah, well.” She took another sip of tea, as if the warmth could wash the bitterness from her mouth. “I was blind sighted.”

For a moment, the car was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater. Her face was half-lit by the streetlight outside, and she looked… tired. Not just physically, but worn out.

“I thought I was over it,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But tonight, seeing him again—it just… reminded me of everything. How stupid I was to love him. How much he took from me.”

I leaned back in my seat, my chest tight. I wanted to say something that would take the weight off her shoulders, something sharp and sure. But all I managed was, “You weren’t stupid. He was just an asshole.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to smile, but she didn’t quite get there.

“Maybe. But I still let him do it.”

I reached over, resting my hand lightly over hers. “No, Eden. That’s on him. Not you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. Then after a beat, she added, “But he was my first love, you know…”

Fuck. Why would she tell me that? The words landed like a punch in my gut. I knew he probably was, but hearing her say it out loud—it stung in a way I wasn’t ready for.

“I loved him with everything I had,” she continued, staring down at the cup in her hands, “and I thought he did too… but he didn’t.” Her voice didn’t crack, but looked like the tears were there, just refusing to fall.

“Sorry—I hate that I’m venting right now,” she muttered quickly, almost embarrassed. “I don’t mean to drop this on you.”

“No, go on,” I said. My voice came out steady, even though part of me didn’t want to hear how much she used to love that asshole. 

But another part of me knew she needed to get this out.

She nodded, drawing in a breath. “I just… I wish I had seen the signs earlier. He was so good at making me feel like I was crazy whenever something didn’t add up. And I let him. I let myself believe it.”

I swallowed hard, my jaw tightening. “Would you go back to him?” I asked, testing her, almost bracing for an answer I didn’t want.

Her head snapped up, and she shook it firmly. “No, of course not. I’d have to hate myself if I did. Cheating is the one thing that can’t be forgiven.”

I nodded, fully agreeing, relief washing through me.

“You don’t need him, Eden,” I said, my voice low but sure. “You deserve better.”

“I know,” she whispered. “It just stings. I feel so—I don’t know.” She set the tea down in the cupholder, her hands suddenly restless. “Like every time I start to like another guy, I stop myself before it gets too far. I can’t help it. I don’t want to go through the same things again.”

The words hit me hard. She didn’t even realize what she was admitting, but I did. She was saying she wanted to open up to someone—maybe even me—but fear was keeping her locked up tight.

I shifted in my seat, turning to face her fully. “That makes sense,” I said carefully. “Once someone hurts you like that, it’s hard to… trust again.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes glistening in the dim light. “Exactly. Like, what if the next guy just… does the same thing? What if I fall for someone and it’s just another Lucian, just packaged differently?”

I clenched my fist in my lap, fighting the urge to tell her flat out that I wasn’t him—that I’d never be him. Instead, I reached over and adjusted the jacket draped around her shoulders, pulling it a little tighter. “Not every guy is like him,” I said quietly. “Some people… mean it when they say they care.”

Her eyes flicked to mine then. God, she was beautiful. My chest tightened under the weight of her gaze, like she was silently asking me if I meant myself.

I didn’t look away. I couldn’t.

For a moment, the air in the car shifted—thicker, charged. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but instead, she just exhaled and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes.

“I just don’t want to be stupid again,” she murmured.

“You won’t be,” I said, almost too quickly. Then softer, “Not if it’s with the right person.”

She gave me a look, one corner of her mouth tugging into a faint smile. “How do you not have a girlfriend, Matt?”

I stilled. The question felt heavier than it should have, and I shifted slightly in my seat.

“What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.

“I mean…” she dragged out, tilting her head as though she was studying me. “You seem like everything someone could want in one. You’re so kind. Patient. You actually listen.”

A small, dry chuckle escaped me, though my chest tightened. I very much knew the answer. Her. 

“I don’t know,” I said, forcing it out casually. “Just hasn’t happened, I guess.”

She leaned back, resting her head lazily against the seat, and for a second, I thought the conversation would just die there. But then she lifted her hand, which was soft, small, warm, and cupped my jaw. 

My breath caught, just a little, the gesture so natural and intimate it almost didn’t feel real.

“You’re a good boy, Matt,” she said, her tone genuine but threaded with something else—something that made my pulse quicken.

I raised a brow at her, squinting, trying to make a joke out of it. “Good boy? Really?”

“Not like that, weirdo,” she laughed, rolling her eyes.

I laughed too, shaking my head. “Okay, but you can’t just throw around ‘good boy’ like that. You know how it sounds, right?”

“Maybe I do.” She smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I think I should have used ‘sweet boy’ instead.” 

I blinked at her, caught between laughing it off and losing my composure completely. My jaw was still tingling where her fingers had brushed me, and even though the car smelled faintly of burgers and fries, all I could focus on was her—her laugh, her half-lidded eyes, the casual way she was leaning back like she trusted me enough to be this unguarded. 

“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered, though there was a grin tugging at my lips.

She shrugged, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

“Maybe. But I think you like it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

READ ALL RELEASED PARTS HERE!

[a/n: I love writing a good boy :) lmao. I love you, mwah!] - ceyana

tags: @chrissturniolodailysluts @charmersturns @jaybirdie34 @oopsiedaisydeer @mattsdivaa @autumnjadesposts @mattysmrwrinkleton @meatballlover10 @fmg05 @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnsfluff @kingofeverythingmb @enviedparty101 @malox12 @wesj11 @delilahsturniolo @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @pair-of-pantaloons @chrisbambi @sturnsobsessed21 @le4hsblog @sturnsheart @carrielovesmatt @lilianasturnsz @courta13 @angelxsturns @sagesturns @beardedbernard @chriss-slutt @sturnsplatter @kiarasmaybank @ifamils @kenah-sturniolo-33

comment 'taglist' on this post to be added to taglist!

[courta13]

introducing, harry potter au

featuring huffle!puff matt. best paired with slytherin!reader

about hufflepuff!matt + slytherin!reader…

hufflepuff!matt who…. half-blood kind, helpful, good with animals and children, always helping one another, thinking about others before himself, over thinker, anxiety, hufflepuff at heart goofy, contagious laugh, love laungage quality time, fancy’s you.

slytherin!reader who’s… pure-blood known as parents disappointment no matter how much they tell her they aren’t mad!! , bold, intelligent, trouble with spells sometimes, cold, gryfindor parents. can be mean towards others, helpful to all Slytherin, straight A’s, secret book lover, love language,physical touch, matt.

if you have any asks or request feel free to come to me, i appreciate all likes and reblogs i love you all soso much !! 🍂📻

[courta13]

𝑩𝒂𝒅𝑩𝒐𝒚! 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

⊹˚⋆ 𝐒𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐫��𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰⋆˚⊹

⤷ 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬.

The summer breeze drifts through the gap in your window, a small shiver rolling down your spine. You're tucked up in bed, the pink sheets pooling around your waist as you hunch over the book you're reading. 

The lamp on your bedside cabinet glows a warm orange, and for just a moment, you feel relaxed. No responsibilities. No one is expecting anything from you. Just you, your father asleep down the hall, and a book you can escape into. 

Thud.

A hushed, "Motherfuck-" 

Followed by a few other unusual sounds from outside catches your attention faster than the speed of light. 

Your eyes snap up, and your book snaps shut as you listen, now on full, high-alert. Quietly, you get up from your bed, your feet padding against the floor as you step carefully towards your half-opened window, your heart so high in your throat that you're sure it's blocking your airway. 

Before you even reach the window, there's someone tumbling through it, all clumsy and uncoordinated as you fight off the instinct to scream, your body going stiff for a moment as you watch with wide eyes and the survival instincts of a curtain. 

Luckily, your house is not actually being broken into, and your life is definitely not in danger. 

It's just him. 

Chris Sturniolo. 

He practically rolls through your window. One foot tangled in the curtain, his hand bracing his fall as he curses the whole way and making probably the most sound he can. 

"Chris? Seriously? What are you doing?"  You whisper harshly, the familiar stench of pot clinging to the fabric of his clothes. Walking over to your window, you shut it quietly, taking a moment to allow your heartbeat to return to normal.

He sits up, his smirk still cocky, acting like he hadn't just fallen through your window face-first, "Hello to you too, sweetheart." He murmurs, sitting up and leaning back onto his hands, his eyes trained on you. 

"Wha- why are you even here, in the middle of the night. Are you trying to get me in-" The words stick to your throat as your eyes land on him, looking a little rougher then usual. There's already a bruise forming on his cheekbone, a large cut above his eyebrow and dried blood clinging to the skin beneath his nose.

"What happened to you, Chris? Why are you- what-" You trip over your words, still trying to be quiet but full of concern.

He just laughs like he doesn't look like he just came out of a street fight. He stands up, brushing off his faded shirt, "Sweetheart, I'm fine.. Just a few guys who.. who—"

"Who what? Beat you up? Jumped you? God, Chris, you're literally still bleeding." The words aren't meant to be scolding because for some reason you're not ready to admit, you're worried. You care.

Before he can react, you're stood in front of him, hands cradling his face with gentleness he's not used to. He hesitates for a moment, letting out a hitched breath. "I'm fine. Stop worrying so much." He mutters, noticing the concern swimming in your eyes, so much of it he could drown. He wraps his hands around your wrists, not moving them. Almost like he's holding you there, silently pleading with you not to let go. 

You're not convinced, his tough persona not fooling you. It never did. "No, Chris.. this isn't fine. You're not fine." You insist, eyes dropping to his bruised knuckles, littered with cuts and half-dried blood. "Jus'— Just let me clean you up.. please?" 

He can't say no. Not when you're the first person to show this much concern, the first person who truly cares if his cuts got infected or if the wounds would heal. 

That's why he's now sat on the counter in your bathroom, back against the mirror as he mutters something about 'not needing help'. You've already brought out the first ait kit, playing nurse as you stand between his legs like it's the most natural thing in the world. 

"Just stay still.. it's gonna sting a little." You warn quietly, bringing the antiseptic soaked cotton ball to the cut just above his eyebrow, gently dabbing over the dried blood and smudges of dirt. 

He winces a little, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth as he grips onto the counter like it's his lifeline, his body tensing up slightly, "Fuck- sweetheart, that hurts." 

You stop your movements for a second, the cotton ball hovering over his skin as you watch him, "Sorry, sorry.. I didn't mean to," You murmur, giving him a sympathetic look before gently going back to cleaning up his cut. 

"S'fine." Is all he says, his eyes dropped to the floor, body still slightly stiff. The silence between you stretches, saved for the occasional hitch of Chris's breath whenever you apply a little too much pressure. 

"What even happened?" You whisper, your eyes meeting his for a split second. You're not entirely sure you want the answer, but you are sure he's not going to give it to you anyway. 

"Nothing.. it's nothing." You know he's lying, his eyes are downcast and his shoulders are tight. You know the type of trouble Chris gets into, you know what he does when he's left to his own devices. He's cocky, he's arrogant, and his mouth gets him into more trouble than he's ready to admit. 

"Doesn't look like nothing." You hum, words quiet, but the worry screaming louder than you ever could. He doesn't say anything after that, just lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. 

You decide not to push anymore, there's no point. Chris isn't the type of person to give in when he gets pressed, not the type of person to open up under pressure. So you stay quiet, taking a small step closer to him. Your hand meets his jaw, fingers warm and grounding. Real. You hold his face with gentleness he's not sure he's ever going to be able to reciprocate, but he lets it happen anyway. 

You don't even notice how close you are until you feel his breath on your lips. Uneven. Unsteady waves of warmth. Your eyes meet his, your hands still for a moment. Something in the air around you shifts, the atmosphere crackling with unspoken feelings, questions and everything in between.  

You swear you're hallucinating when you see him lean forward, but you know you're not when it happens a second time

 "Uh- well, almost done, just.. just stay still a little longer." The tension fizzles out and you feel your chest tighten with that familiar ache. He leans back slightly at your words, his eyes gleaming with something akin to what looked like disappointment. 

But he nods, letting out a breath he didn't even remember holding. Your hand still lingers on his jaw, but not so much holding anymore. You tell yourself it's to keep him still, but I think you both know it's not. Something about his warm skin under your fingertips makes your stomach flutter in a way you know it's not supposed to. Not with him. 

"Just.. promise me this won't happen again, Chris." The words are barely above a breath, your heartbeat alone was almost louder. You don't look him in the eye this time, just focusing on cleaning him up while trying to ignore the warmth settling in the pit of your stomach, "Or at least you'll come to me again when it does." 

He blinks at you, not expecting you to actually want to be the one to help him, the one to patch up his regret and bad decisions. But here you were, and here you'll always be. "Yeah.. you'll be my nurse from now on." He chuckles, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes, and the walls of humor and deflect crumble around the edges. 

The edge of your lips lift, not a smile yet, but close. And in the solidarity of the bathroom, the soft lights, the steady breathing and the smell of antiseptic, your book waits on your bedside cabinet, and you've found yourself in a story you never expected. 

© 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐬𝐚, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡!

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲.. @bernardsbendystraws

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ꨄ︎

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.. ℒ𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑥𝑜𝑥𝑜

☏︎.. @nialler-lover @babysweetheartmelia @wesj11 @bernardsbendystraws @mattsgirl23 @silverspringsstare @ilovesturniolozz @eyesonmattyb @aaliyah-sturns   @sturniolobananas10 @kenah-sturniolo @emely9274 @lyingonchris @dandoonsturns @courta13

[courta13]

𓏲 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𓂅

⤷ a matt sturniolo series ౨ৎ

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . you and your friends are stuck on a deserted road after your rv breaks down, you all face a deadly game when a mysterious shooter demands the truth about a long-buried secret. as tensions rise and secrets unravel, you and matt’s fragile connection is tested, but the real danger might be closer than anyone suspects. in the end, nothing is as it seems, and the story you thought you knew is just beginning.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . mentions of a rifle, just angst & tension.

⤷ this is inspired by the book “five survive” by holly jackson! the basic premise will be similar to the book but there are no characters from the book in this series and a lot of plot points will be changed.

CHAPTER SIX ♡ CLAUSTRAPHOBIC

view other parts here

the air in the RV is heavy, not just from the storm still hammering the roof, but from the silence. no one’s talking, no one’s moving, and yet every sound feels amplified. the tick of the broken clock, the hiss of the heater, the occasional sound of wind harshly hitting the RV windows, the chilling words still carved into it. it’s nick who finally breaks it.

“something’s…wrong with the back panel.”

you look over, confused. he’s crouched beside the thin, carpeted wall near the kitchenette, running his hand along the seam. “what do you mean?” chris asks, moving over. nick knocks gently, the sound is hollow. “this isn’t insulation,” he says. “it’s…empty space.”

you all exchange wary glances. tyler’s death is still sitting on your chests like lead. the shooter, whoever they are, could still be here. matt grabs the small emergency flashlight and steps forward. “move,” he says to nick, crouching down. his hands work quickly, peeling back the edge of the carpet, revealing a small latch you’d never noticed before.

he pulls. and the wall comes away. it’s a crawlspace, narrow and pitch black, but there’s enough inside to make your blood freeze.

a rifle.

a backpack with food wrappers and bottled water.

receipts, money. notes. maps of the rv sketched out in meticulous detail. arrows marking every blind spot, every place you all tend to sit. strings of paper with lines of dialogue, like scripts. even recordings, tiny cassette tapes labeled with times.

chris picks one up, staring at it like it might bite him. “this is… it’s our conversations.”

“jesus christ,” nick whispers. “they were living in here. while we were here.” the weight of that presses down like a stone. your skin crawls with the thought of someone inches away, watching, listening, planning.

a torn notebook page with everyone’s names scrawled down the center…and tyler’s crossed out in thick, violent ink.

“holy shit…” chris whispers.

“they’ve been in here. the whole time,” you murmur. your skin prickles with the realization, the shooter didn’t need to break in or follow you. they were already here.

matt doesn’t move at first. he just stares into the crawlspace, his face unreadable in the dim light. finally, he says quietly, “i… i need to tell you something.”

everyone turns to him. his hands flex at his sides, like he’s not sure how to start. “the night emma died,” he says slowly, “i saw you.” his eyes flick to you, steady but pained. “standing over her body. i pulled you back—dragged you out of there before anyone noticed. but when i looked again…it wasn’t you. it was someone else.”

your heart stutters. the room tilts, like gravity itself is trying to throw you off. “what the hell are you talking about?” chris demands, his voice sharp, defensive on your behalf.

matt runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “i don’t know. i thought i imagined it, that my head was playing tricks on me. but now—” he gestures at the crawlspace, the evidence of someone who knew every move you all made, every word said. “now i’m not sure of anything.”

the silence that follows is suffocating. sadie finally whispers, “so…whoever did this…they’re trying to…frame us? or make people believe it was us who killed emma?” you feel the panic claw at your throat. the idea that someone has been puppeteering everything, maybe even slipping into your lives unnoticed, is almost too much to process. someone dressed up like you, someone was trying to frame you.

matt’s eyes find yours again, dark and stormy. “i know what i saw. but i also know it wasn’t you. i…i need you to believe that.” your chest aches, because even now, even in the middle of this nightmare, the only thing more terrifying than what’s in the crawlspace is the thought of matt doubting you.

nick is sifting through the backpack from the crawlspace, pulling out more scraps. wrappers, a folded map. “these dates…they’re all from before the trip,” he says slowly. “this person planned this.”

“and they were right here with us the whole time,” chris mutters. the RV feels smaller by the second. the shadows deeper. you don’t know it yet, but in the next hour, the last piece of the puzzle will click into place. and when it does, the face staring back at you will be the one you never thought you’d see.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: GUYS IM SO SCARED TO POST THE NEXT (and last…) CHAPTER BUT THINGS WILL MAKE SENSE I PROMISE

[courta13]

𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶 [05]

Welcome to Vivianne Hall, in which...

Edenella Murphy is pretty, young, and untamable. Matthew Sturniolo is handsome, steady, and quietly protective. When Eden is pushed toward an arranged marriage, Matt—unable to ignore his soft spot for her—steps in with an unexpected solution: a fake relationship. But as the act plays out, the line between pretend and something real begins to blur…

Warnings: crying

Chapter 05: Dinner Behind Closed Doors

── ✮ EDENELLA

“Okay, Matthew…this is it.”

My voice wavered slightly as I stood outside the tall, looming doors of my parents’ house. My palms were clammy, and my heartbeat was so loud.

Things had moved fast. Just two nights ago, Matt and I had sealed this insane pact over plates of greasy diner food, the hum of neon lights buzzing over our heads. Between awkward silences and nervous laughter, we had laid it all out—what we’d tell my parents, how we’d act, even down to the smallest details. 

“We met at Vivianne Hall,” I had reminded him over and over. “You play hockey. I figure skate. Keep it simple, keep it believable.” He had repeated it back, in that lopsided smile of his, but I could tell he’d been just as unsure as I was.

Now, here he was, standing beside me like we’d actually rehearsed this moment instead of stumbling through our messy little plan.

Dinner at my parents’ house was never casual. When they invited me, I assumed it would be another stiff, polite evening of questions about my studies, reminders of my engagement, and lectures about “expectations.” But when I told them I was bringing a guest, they had agreed far too quickly.

They were expecting a friend. A classmate. Maybe Jules. Definitely not the boy standing beside me now.

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t panicking,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

“Calm your nerves, Luna,” Matt said, his voice low and reassuring. But even as he spoke, I caught the flicker of nerves in his eyes—the same nerves that had been in mine when we’d gone over the plan, again and again, trying to convince ourselves this could actually work.

I hoped it did.

Still, he looked presentable. Sharp enough to pass—collared shirt, blazer, shoes that weren’t sneakers. But I couldn’t shake the fear that my parents would see right through him, right through us. That they’d make some cutting remark, or worse, cause a scene that would humiliate us both.

The door opened before I could spiral further.

“Miss Eden,” the butler greeted with a polite nod, his gaze flicking briefly to Matt with practiced neutrality. “Right this way.”

I shot Matt a final look—here goes nothing—and followed as the butler led us through the wide, echoing hall. My heels clicked against polished marble, the air filled with the faint smell of lemon polish and something roasted, drifting from the kitchens.

When we entered the dining hall, I froze for half a second.

Seated at the long table, beside my parents, was my sister.

“Elean?” I blurted, surprised.

She smiled faintly, though her expression was more curious than warm. “Eden.”

My parents turned their heads then, their gazes landing not on me, but on Matt. Their eyes flickered—first with confusion, then narrowing into calculation.

“Mother, Father,” I began carefully, “this is—”

But before I could finish, my father squinted, recognition dawning.

“Wait a moment,” he said, pointing slightly at Matt. “You’re… Sturniolo’s boy, aren’t you? The other one—Christopher?”

Matt stiffened at the name, glancing sideways at me.

I swallowed hard, heat rushing to my face. Oh, no.

Matt froze beside me, just for a moment, before recovering with a tight, polite smile.

“Matt, actually. Chris is my other brother.”

The air shifted. My mother’s eyes sharpened, her wine glass pausing midair. Elean arched a brow, lips curving with that familiar this will be interesting expression.

I wanted to melt into the marble floor. 

Of course, my father knows him. 

Of course, we were all somehow connected. 

“Oh,” my father said slowly, studying Matt like he was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. “Matthew Sturniolo. I see. I didn’t expect…” His gaze flicked toward me, lingering with a weight that made my stomach twist. “…this.”

I forced a small smile, stepping in quickly before the silence could suffocate us.

“Matt and I met on campus,” I said carefully, my voice pitched just enough to sound casual. “He’s been a good friend.”

“Friend,” my mother repeated, her tone cool, deliberate.

“Friend,” Elean echoed, her smirk deepening as her eyes darted between us.

Edward and Elizebeth Murphy did not look too impressed.

Matt, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He slid into the seat across from Elean with an ease I knew had to be forced, every movement measured, respectful. “It’s a pleasure to be here,” he said, his voice steady, smooth.

I sat beside him, hands folded tightly in my lap, heart pounding against my ribs.

“Well,” my father finally said, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “If you’re a Sturniolo, then you’re no stranger to our circle.” His eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice held the faintest edge of approval. “So that makes sense. Interesting too.”

Interesting. That word again.

Beside me, Matt leaned back slightly in his chair, his jaw tense but his smile never faltering.

God, please don’t let my parents eat him alive.

The silverware clinked faintly as servants began placing dishes down, the aroma of roasted lamb and herbs filling the dining hall. My mother delicately dabbed her lips with her napkin before turning her sharp gaze on me.

“So,” she began, her voice calm but laced with quiet curiosity, “why exactly did you bring Matthew to dinner tonight, Eden?”

My pulse hammered. This was it.

My cue.

I straightened in my seat, my fingers twitching nervously under the table. Then, before I could chicken out, I reached across the linen and slid my hand over Matt’s. His palm was warm, steady, grounding me even though I knew he was just as startled as I was.

“Well…” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. “Matt isn’t my friend.”

The room stilled. Even Elean, who never missed a chance to grin, froze mid-bite.

“He’s actually… my boyfriend.”

The words left my lips, and the silence that followed was deafening. My mother blinked, my father’s brow furrowed, and Elean’s fork slipped against her plate with a sharp clatter.

Matt, to his credit, didn’t yank his hand away. Instead, his thumb brushed my knuckles in the faintest, almost imperceptible motion.

“Boyfriend?” my mother repeated slowly, her tone unreadable, eyes narrowing in quiet study.

“Yes,” I said firmly, even though my stomach was in knots. “We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now.”

Elean’s voice cut in, sharp and incredulous. “Since when?”

“Long enough,” I said quickly, glaring at her before she could dig deeper. 

My father leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his chest. “Interesting. Very interesting.” But then his tone shifted, cooling like frost across the table. “And what about Henry?”

My throat went dry.

“What about Henry?” I asked, not looking away. 

Matt stiffened beside me.

Mother tilted her head, her eyes like blades. “Yes, Eden. What about Mr. Astor? I thought we were very clear about his intentions toward you. Has something changed?”

Elean’s gaze bounced between me and Matt like she was watching her favorite drama unfold live.

I tightened my hold on Matt’s hand, my voice firm even as my chest threatened to cave in.

“Yes. Something has changed.”

“And that is?” my father pressed.

I lifted my chin. “I’m with Matt. I’m not interested in Henry. I’ve never been interested in Henry.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

“And.” My voice wavered at first, but I steadied it. “We’ve been together for a while now. Since before the whole… Henry situation.”

Father’s brow furrowed. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“I didn’t know how you would react,” I admitted, my gaze darting between them. “And then suddenly Henry was being pushed toward me, and I—well, I panicked. But Matt… Matt was already there. He’s the one I chose.”

The lies were slipping out too smoothly.

Mother exhaled slowly, setting down her utensils with precision. “Eden, do you realize what you’re saying? That you’ve hidden a relationship from us, all this time, while we made arrangements in good faith?”

"Wow," Elean gave a short, bitter laugh. “So you were sneaking around? Classic.”

I glared at her, but my chest felt tight. My parents’ disappointment cut far deeper.

That was when Matt finally spoke.

“With all due respect, Mr and Mrs Murphy,” he said evenly, his voice steady, “I don’t plan on leaving Eden for the sake of your arrangement.”

Both my parents’ eyes shifted to him, studying him like he was an intruder at their table.

“I care about Eden,” Matt continued. “I’ve cared about her since before any of this, and I don’t expect you to be thrilled about how you found out—but you should know this isn’t some joke.”

His hand squeezed mine under the table, a small anchor in the storm. The words that had just left his mouth still lingered in the air, and for a moment, it almost didn’t feel like an act. It almost felt like he meant them.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look at my parents again.

“Mother, Father…” My voice trembled, but I pushed through. “I know you aren’t pleased with this. But the reason I’ve been so resistant to the engagement is because of Matt.”

Their faces remained unreadable, carved from stone. My heart plummeted at their lack of reaction.

“And I…” My throat felt tight, the words catching, but I let them out anyway. “I love Matt.”

That finally drew a shift—just the smallest exchange of glances between them, subtle but heavy. Like they were silently deciding what to make of me…of us.

Beside me, Matt sat with an expression of calm control. He didn’t flinch, didn’t falter, even as the weight of their scrutiny pressed down on him.

Father finally leaned forward, steepling his hands on the table. His eyes fixed on Matt, sharp and assessing. “So, Matt…” he said slowly, “how exactly did you and Eden meet?”

My stomach clenched so tight it hurt.

I prayed he remembered every detail of the story we’d pieced together the night before.

Matt, however, didn’t miss a beat. He straightened slightly in his chair, voice steady, respectful. “We met at Vivianne Hall, sir. Eden figure skates there, and I…” he glanced at me with a fleeting smile, “…I’m on the hockey team.”

My parents’ eyes narrowed, assessing, weighing his words. Matt continued, carefully telling the story.

“One night, I stayed late after practice, and Eden was still on the ice, running her program. I was heading out, but—” his lips tugged upward faintly, as though the memory was fond—“I got caught watching. She noticed, of course, and told me off for staring. But… we started talking. And, well… one conversation turned into another.”

I held my breath. He was perfect. His delivery was smooth, natural—like he was pulling it from a real memory rather than a fabrication we scrambled together over takeout last night.

“And,” Matt added, his tone softening, “I just… kept showing up. Watching her skate. Until, eventually, I didn’t need an excuse anymore.”

Elean shifted uncomfortably across from us, her brows drawn in suspicion. My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. Father leaned back again, his gaze lingering on Matt like he was dissecting him.

“Hmm,” Father finally hummed. “Convenient, isn’t it? A hockey boy and a skater crossing paths. Almost poetic.”

I forced a small smile, my pulse thundering in my ears. If only they knew how much of this was stitched together with nothing but hope and lies.

Father’s gaze lingered on Matt a little too long, sharp as a hawk circling over prey. 

For once, though, I wasn’t trembling. 

Matt was calm, controlled, the way he always seemed to be when the stakes were high. And watching him answer so effortlessly… it actually made me believe that we could pull this off.

“So, Matt,” my father said, voice even but probing, “Now, tell me about your family. I know the name Sturniolo is big… your father holds large estates, does he not? Goes back a century?”

Matt inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, sir. My father owns several properties and companies—some here in the city, some abroad. Real estate has been huge for my family for generations.”

Mother’s brow lifted ever so slightly, impressed but not revealing much else. Elean, on the other hand, blinked in surprise, clearly piecing things together.

Father steepled his fingers again. “And their impact?”

Matt didn’t hesitate. “It’s… significant, sir. My family has invested in development projects that have provided not only luxury estates but also housing communities and commercial hubs. We take pride in being contributors to the city’s growth. My father often says it’s not just about the profit—it’s about building a legacy.”

I stole a glance at him. His voice was confident, polished, like he had practiced speeches like this a hundred times before. For a moment, I almost forgot this was an act.

“And you?” my father asked, his tone tightening. “Where do you see yourself in all of this?”

The hell was this? A job interview? Even Henry didn't answer these many questions.

Matt straightened subtly, his hand brushing mine beneath the table again—firm, reassuring.

“I plan to continue in my father’s footsteps, sir. Finance has always been my strength, and my father has a place for me within his company. It’s only a matter of time before I step into that role.”

Father’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Finance, hm?”

“Yes,” Matt said smoothly. “My father’s company handles billions in assets. The weight of that responsibility isn’t lost on me, but it’s a challenge I’m eager to take on.”

My father nodded, and I almost seen an inche of... jealousy? It would make sense. Matt's family was everything my father wanted to be.

The dining hall seemed to go quiet, the clink of silverware momentarily absent. Even my mother sat up straighter, as though she hadn’t expected such a firm and composed answer.

I, on the other hand, felt my heart finally slow to something steady. This was going well. Almost too well.

Matt glanced at me briefly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. To my parents, it probably looked like confidence.

To me, it felt like a silent message: See? I’ve got this. 

Dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation and careful answers.

Eventually, the staff cleared away the final dishes, and the clatter of silverware gave way to silence. My parents exchanged one of their wordless looks, the kind that always made me tense.

Mother dabbed her lips with her napkin, then rose gracefully from her chair, and so did my father. They disappeared, leaving me, Matt, and Elean at the table.

I ignored Elean's curious stare.

Matt just gave her an awkward wave,

Then they came back.

“Eden,” she said, her voice calm but threaded with that underlying firmness I knew all too well. “Come. Let’s speak in your room for a moment.”

My stomach dropped.

“Now?” I asked carefully.

“Yes, now.” Her eyes flicked toward Elean. “And you as well, darling.”

Elean’s brows arched, curiosity sparking immediately. “Of course,” she said, rising with a slight grin that promised she’d be trolling me the moment we were alone.

I turned to Matt, panic tugging at me, but before I could say anything, Father’s deep voice cut in.

“Matt,” he said, his tone shifting into something heavier, almost testing. “You drink?”

Matt blinked once, then answered honestly. “Not really, sir. Occasionally. A glass of wine or whiskey, sometimes.”

Father nodded once, “Good. Join me for a drink in the study.”

My breath hitched. 

This was it. 

The real test.

Matt straightened smoothly, his posture calm but alert, like he’d been expecting this. “Of course.”

I felt his hand brush mine under the table one last time—quick, almost secretive.

A squeeze. It was his way of saying Don’t worry.

But worry I did.

Because as Mother and Elean guided me upstairs, I glanced back at Matt. He was following my father into the shadowed corridor that led to the study, his frame disappearing behind the door.

God, I could only hope whatever Matt was about to say downstairs lined up with the story I’d been spinning.

When we reached my room, Mother shut the door behind us with a little too much force. She turned, her arms folding across her chest, her gaze heavy with disappointment.

“Are you serious, Eden?” she asked finally, her voice cool but dripping with restrained fury. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

I squared my shoulders, even though my heart pounded. “Yes, Mother. I do. And I don’t regret it.”

Her lips thinned. “We worked too hard—too hard—to secure the arrangement with Henry’s family, and you throw it all away for… for this?” She said, basically talking about Matt. “Do you have any idea of the damage you’re creating for us? For yourself?”

I clenched my jaw. “I know exactly what I’m doing. And I’m not marrying Henry.”

Mother’s nostrils flared. She turned to Elean with a pointed look. “Tell your sister how foolish she’s being. You’ve always been the sensible one.”

Elean shifted her weight, then fixed me with a flat stare. “You’re stupid,” she said in a deadpan voice, like she was commenting on the weather.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the support, Elean. Really moving.”

Mother let out a sharp breath, frustration crackling off her like static. “Eden, this—whatever you think this is—it won’t last. You and Matt? A temporary distraction. That’s all. You’re not built for each other, not in the long run.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, but she cut me off, her voice rising.

“Yes, he’s a good boy,” she admitted, “polite, well-mannered, with the right upbringing—but Henry…” She sighed, frustrated. “Henry was a man. A man who understood responsibility, who brought with him assets. He was stability, power, and security. He was worth more than this—than your little rebellion.”

I felt my nails dig into my palms. “Matt isn’t a rebel.”

Mother’s lips parted, but no words came. She turned away, clearly trying to collect herself.

Elean muttered, almost amused, “Well… at least you’re passionate.”

Mother spun back, glare sharp. “This is reckless, Eden. You’ll see it for yourself soon enough. Feelings fade. ”

Mother’s heels clicked furiously against the hardwood as she stormed out, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the chandelier. The silence she left behind was sharp, charged.

Elean sat back against Eden’s headboard, her arms folded, eyes fixed on me with that deadpan look that always got under my skin. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I shot back instantly, pulse still racing.

“A Sturniolo?” She arched a brow, like the name itself was some kind of joke. “Are you actually serious, Eden?”

My head jerked toward her. “What do you mean by that?”

She smirked faintly, shaking her head. “You sure know how to pick a man. I’ll give you that. But Henry—” she exhaled like the name alone carried weight “—Henry was a good choice.”

I stared at her, disbelief flashing through me. “A good choice? For who? Certainly not for me.”

Elean tilted her head, watching me closely, like she was enjoying peeling back layers I didn’t know I had. “You think you won’t fall in love with him, Eden. You’re saying all this like you can control it. But you will. You’ll fall. And it’ll ruin you.”

My chest tightened, a flare of panic sparking, and I raised my voice before I could stop myself. “No, I won’t!”

Her gaze sharpened, steady and unblinking. “Well,” she said flatly, “I did.”

The words hit me like ice water, knocking the breath from my lungs. My mouth opened, but nothing came out for a beat.

Finally, I forced it out, my voice trembling but defiant. “Well, I’m not you.”

Elean’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away.

“Henry and your husband?” I said, my voice rising again, anger bubbling in my throat. “They’re two different people. You might have been able to have good come out of that choice, but don’t you dare expect me to do the same.” 

I left my room with my head still buzzing from the argument with my mother and Elean, but I forced my expression into something smooth, collected. If there was one thing I’d learned growing up in this house, it was how to mask. My heels clicked softly against the polished marble as I descended the grand staircase, each step echoing in the cavernous quiet of the house.

The double doors to Father’s study were cracked open, the faint scent of cigar smoke drifting out. I caught Matt’s voice—steady, polite, just the way we’d practiced. My chest tightened with a strange sort of pride. He was holding his own.

I pushed the door open gently and slipped inside. Matt sat across from Father at the mahogany desk, a crystal glass of amber liquid in front of him. He wasn’t drinking, just holding it, posture straight, gaze unwavering. Father studied him like a hawk studies prey.

“Hey, baby,” I said lightly, the word rolling off my tongue like it was second nature. I crossed the room, sliding a hand onto Matt’s shoulder in a way that looked both casual and intimate. 

His eyes flickered up at me, and for a second, I swore I saw relief flash through them.

“We should probably head back to campus before it gets too late,” I added, squeezing his shoulder.

Father’s eyes narrowed slightly, shifting between us. “Already?” His voice was even, but there was weight behind it, suspicion laced into every syllable. 

“Yes,” I said quickly, too quickly, but I tried to cover it with a smile. “Classes tomorrow. You know how it is.”

Matt rose to his feet, the glass still untouched on the desk. He gave Father a small, respectful nod. “Thank you for the drink, sir.”

Father said nothing, only leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. 

As we made our way to the front door, Mother appeared in the foyer, arms crossed tightly. She didn’t say anything at first, just watched us with that sharp, unreadable gaze of hers.

“Goodnight,” she finally said, voice clipped, polite, but so obviously laced with disappointment.

“Goodnight,” Father echoed, stepping out from the study. His tone was calm, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

Matt reached for the door. 

We left.

And it left like a shit story.

I quickened my steps, practically rushing toward the sleek black car parked in the driveway.

By the time I slid into the passenger seat, my pulse was pounding, staring straight ahead as Matt climbed in beside me.

I didn’t dare look back at the house.

The tall iron gates of my parents’ estate loomed in the distance, but I didn’t even make it that far before the dam broke.

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, and cracked sobs left my throat. I pressed the heels of my palms against my face, but it was useless—my shoulders were already shaking, my chest already heaving with quiet sobs.

I saw Matt flinch at my sobs.

“Eden—hey.” his voice was sharp with concern as one hand immediately left the wheel to reach for me. His palm rested against my knee, steady, warm, grounding. “Talk to me. What happened? I thought… I thought it went well?”

I shook my head violently, forcing the words out between uneven breaths.

“No, Matt. They made you think it went well because you were there.” I pulled my hands away from my face, tears streaking hot down to my chin as I turned to him. “You didn’t see my mom when you weren’t around. She was upset—furious. My mom—” my throat caught, but I pushed through, voice rising. “She literally said everything I already knew she was thinking.”

Matt’s brows knit together, his grip on my leg tightening like he could will me back together with just his touch. He kept glancing between me and the road, jaw tense. “What… what did she say?”

I dragged in a shaky breath, wiping my face roughly, my fingers trembling. “She said we’re temporary. That we’ll never last. That Henry was the better choice—.” The words came out like venom, and I clenched my fists in my lap. “She doesn’t see you. She doesn’t care about me. All she cares about is their damn deal with the Astors, and so does my father”

Matt’s hand slid up to lace with mine, pulling my clenched fist open. His thumb brushed slowly over the back of my hand, his voice softer now, but heavy with conviction. “Luna, look at me.”

I turned, reluctantly, my tear-filled eyes meeting his.

“Just calm down for now.”

Something in his tone—low, steady, unshakably certain—made my chest ache even harder. For a moment, I just stared at him, like maybe if I memorized his face right then, it would drown out the image of my mother’s disappointment. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I choked out, my voice barely steady. “Maybe I should just… I don’t know—figure something else out.”

“Eden—”

“No, Matt, listen.” My hands flew to my face again, my words tumbling over each other, frantic. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. You shouldn’t have to deal with my parents, their expectations, their stupid deals. This isn’t your fight. I—I should just end this now, before it gets worse.”

The more I spoke, the faster my breathing got, until I was gasping, my throat tight and burning. I couldn’t stop the tears flooding back, couldn’t stop my chest from rising and falling too quickly.

“Eden—hey. Hey, look at me.” Matt’s voice cut through, sharp but calm, his hand leaving the wheel completely this time to grab my wrist. He pulled my trembling hands down from my face and forced me to meet his eyes. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

“I can’t,” I gasped, shaking my head, my lungs clawing for air.

“Yes, you can. In—slow. Out—slow.” He exaggerated a deep inhale through his nose, then exhaled steadily through his mouth, his thumb brushing over my skin in rhythm. “With me, okay? In… and out.”

I tried. It was messy at first, a hiccup of a breath breaking in the middle, but slowly the tightness in my chest loosened enough that I could follow.

Matt’s expression softened when he saw my shoulders drop a fraction. His voice lowered, firm but gentle. “Don’t apologize for this. You didn’t drag me into your family’s mess—I agreed because I wanted to.”

“But—”

“No.” He cut me off, shaking his head, his grip on me unwavering. “If anything, tonight just proved how much I don’t want to see you go through this alone. Luna, your parents—they’re wrong. They don’t get to decide your life, and they sure as hell don’t get to scare me off.”

The conviction in his tone made something inside me stutter.

“I’ll still help you,” he said, eyes burning into mine with that unshakable certainty that terrified me almost as much as it comforted me. “If anything… this just makes me want to drag you out of this mess even more.”

I shook my head at him, half in disbelief. 

How did this guy even come into my life? 

Where did I even find a Matt? 

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

He smiled, squeezing my hand again. “You're very welcome.”

And despite everything, despite the weight still pressing on me, I found myself leaning into him. 

Matt's thumb brushed slow circles against my skin as if keeping me tethered. The steady motion of the car, the low hum of the engine, and his voice—calm, warm, unshaken—wrapped around me like a blanket.

“You’re good, Eden,” he murmured, so softly I almost thought I imagined it.

The words sank into me, heavier than the panic, heavier than the fear, and before I could stop myself, I leaned sideways. My shoulder pressed against his arm, and then my head found his shoulder. His shirt smelled faintly of cologne and something sharper, clean and grounding.

“I didn’t mean to…” I whispered, my eyelids already dragging shut.

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said quickly, his voice quiet, almost protective. “Just rest, Luna.”

Gosh, this guy was such a sweetheart.

I could tell this was the start of a genuine friendship between me and this sweet ass sunshine boy.

READ ALL RELEASED PARTS HERE!

[a/n: psa matt is very subby in this series, tee hee. I love you, mwah!] - ceyana

tags: @chrissturniolodailysluts @charmersturns @jaybirdie34 @oopsiedaisydeer @mattsdivaa @autumnjadesposts @mattysmrwrinkleton @meatballlover10 @fmg05 @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnsfluff @kingofeverythingmb @enviedparty101 @malox12 @wesj11 @delilahsturniolo @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @pair-of-pantaloons @chrisbambi @sturnsobsessed21 @le4hsblog @sturnsheart @carrielovesmatt @lilianasturnsz @courta13 @angelxsturns @sagesturns @beardedbernard @chriss-slutt @sturnsplatter @kiarasmaybank @ifamils @kenah-sturniolo-33

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[courta13]

𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶 [05]

Welcome to Vivianne Hall, in which...

Edenella Murphy is pretty, young, and untamable. Matthew Sturniolo is handsome, steady, and quietly protective. When Eden is pushed toward an arranged marriage, Matt—unable to ignore his soft spot for her—steps in with an unexpected solution: a fake relationship. But as the act plays out, the line between pretend and something real begins to blur…

Warnings: crying

Chapter 05: Dinner Behind Closed Doors

── ✮ EDENELLA

“Okay, Matthew…this is it.”

My voice wavered slightly as I stood outside the tall, looming doors of my parents’ house. My palms were clammy, and my heartbeat was so loud.

Things had moved fast. Just two nights ago, Matt and I had sealed this insane pact over plates of greasy diner food, the hum of neon lights buzzing over our heads. Between awkward silences and nervous laughter, we had laid it all out—what we’d tell my parents, how we’d act, even down to the smallest details. 

“We met at Vivianne Hall,” I had reminded him over and over. “You play hockey. I figure skate. Keep it simple, keep it believable.” He had repeated it back, in that lopsided smile of his, but I could tell he’d been just as unsure as I was.

Now, here he was, standing beside me like we’d actually rehearsed this moment instead of stumbling through our messy little plan.

Dinner at my parents’ house was never casual. When they invited me, I assumed it would be another stiff, polite evening of questions about my studies, reminders of my engagement, and lectures about “expectations.” But when I told them I was bringing a guest, they had agreed far too quickly.

They were expecting a friend. A classmate. Maybe Jules. Definitely not the boy standing beside me now.

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t panicking,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

“Calm your nerves, Luna,” Matt said, his voice low and reassuring. But even as he spoke, I caught the flicker of nerves in his eyes—the same nerves that had been in mine when we’d gone over the plan, again and again, trying to convince ourselves this could actually work.

I hoped it did.

Still, he looked presentable. Sharp enough to pass—collared shirt, blazer, shoes that weren’t sneakers. But I couldn’t shake the fear that my parents would see right through him, right through us. That they’d make some cutting remark, or worse, cause a scene that would humiliate us both.

The door opened before I could spiral further.

“Miss Eden,” the butler greeted with a polite nod, his gaze flicking briefly to Matt with practiced neutrality. “Right this way.”

I shot Matt a final look—here goes nothing—and followed as the butler led us through the wide, echoing hall. My heels clicked against polished marble, the air filled with the faint smell of lemon polish and something roasted, drifting from the kitchens.

When we entered the dining hall, I froze for half a second.

Seated at the long table, beside my parents, was my sister.

“Elean?” I blurted, surprised.

She smiled faintly, though her expression was more curious than warm. “Eden.”

My parents turned their heads then, their gazes landing not on me, but on Matt. Their eyes flickered—first with confusion, then narrowing into calculation.

“Mother, Father,” I began carefully, “this is—”

But before I could finish, my father squinted, recognition dawning.

“Wait a moment,” he said, pointing slightly at Matt. “You’re… Sturniolo’s boy, aren’t you? The other one—Christopher?”

Matt stiffened at the name, glancing sideways at me.

I swallowed hard, heat rushing to my face. Oh, no.

Matt froze beside me, just for a moment, before recovering with a tight, polite smile.

“Matt, actually. Chris is my other brother.”

The air shifted. My mother’s eyes sharpened, her wine glass pausing midair. Elean arched a brow, lips curving with that familiar this will be interesting expression.

I wanted to melt into the marble floor. 

Of course, my father knows him. 

Of course, we were all somehow connected. 

“Oh,” my father said slowly, studying Matt like he was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. “Matthew Sturniolo. I see. I didn’t expect…” His gaze flicked toward me, lingering with a weight that made my stomach twist. “…this.”

I forced a small smile, stepping in quickly before the silence could suffocate us.

“Matt and I met on campus,” I said carefully, my voice pitched just enough to sound casual. “He’s been a good friend.”

“Friend,” my mother repeated, her tone cool, deliberate.

“Friend,” Elean echoed, her smirk deepening as her eyes darted between us.

Edward and Elizebeth Murphy did not look too impressed.

Matt, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He slid into the seat across from Elean with an ease I knew had to be forced, every movement measured, respectful. “It’s a pleasure to be here,” he said, his voice steady, smooth.

I sat beside him, hands folded tightly in my lap, heart pounding against my ribs.

“Well,” my father finally said, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “If you’re a Sturniolo, then you’re no stranger to our circle.” His eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice held the faintest edge of approval. “So that makes sense. Interesting too.”

Interesting. That word again.

Beside me, Matt leaned back slightly in his chair, his jaw tense but his smile never faltering.

God, please don’t let my parents eat him alive.

The silverware clinked faintly as servants began placing dishes down, the aroma of roasted lamb and herbs filling the dining hall. My mother delicately dabbed her lips with her napkin before turning her sharp gaze on me.

“So,” she began, her voice calm but laced with quiet curiosity, “why exactly did you bring Matthew to dinner tonight, Eden?”

My pulse hammered. This was it.

My cue.

I straightened in my seat, my fingers twitching nervously under the table. Then, before I could chicken out, I reached across the linen and slid my hand over Matt’s. His palm was warm, steady, grounding me even though I knew he was just as startled as I was.

“Well…” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. “Matt isn’t my friend.”

The room stilled. Even Elean, who never missed a chance to grin, froze mid-bite.

“He’s actually… my boyfriend.”

The words left my lips, and the silence that followed was deafening. My mother blinked, my father’s brow furrowed, and Elean’s fork slipped against her plate with a sharp clatter.

Matt, to his credit, didn’t yank his hand away. Instead, his thumb brushed my knuckles in the faintest, almost imperceptible motion.

“Boyfriend?” my mother repeated slowly, her tone unreadable, eyes narrowing in quiet study.

“Yes,” I said firmly, even though my stomach was in knots. “We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now.”

Elean’s voice cut in, sharp and incredulous. “Since when?”

“Long enough,” I said quickly, glaring at her before she could dig deeper. 

My father leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his chest. “Interesting. Very interesting.” But then his tone shifted, cooling like frost across the table. “And what about Henry?”

My throat went dry.

“What about Henry?” I asked, not looking away. 

Matt stiffened beside me.

Mother tilted her head, her eyes like blades. “Yes, Eden. What about Mr. Astor? I thought we were very clear about his intentions toward you. Has something changed?”

Elean’s gaze bounced between me and Matt like she was watching her favorite drama unfold live.

I tightened my hold on Matt’s hand, my voice firm even as my chest threatened to cave in.

“Yes. Something has changed.”

“And that is?” my father pressed.

I lifted my chin. “I’m with Matt. I’m not interested in Henry. I’ve never been interested in Henry.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

“And.” My voice wavered at first, but I steadied it. “We’ve been together for a while now. Since before the whole… Henry situation.”

Father’s brow furrowed. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“I didn’t know how you would react,” I admitted, my gaze darting between them. “And then suddenly Henry was being pushed toward me, and I—well, I panicked. But Matt… Matt was already there. He’s the one I chose.”

The lies were slipping out too smoothly.

Mother exhaled slowly, setting down her utensils with precision. “Eden, do you realize what you’re saying? That you’ve hidden a relationship from us, all this time, while we made arrangements in good faith?”

"Wow," Elean gave a short, bitter laugh. “So you were sneaking around? Classic.”

I glared at her, but my chest felt tight. My parents’ disappointment cut far deeper.

That was when Matt finally spoke.

“With all due respect, Mr and Mrs Murphy,” he said evenly, his voice steady, “I don’t plan on leaving Eden for the sake of your arrangement.”

Both my parents’ eyes shifted to him, studying him like he was an intruder at their table.

“I care about Eden,” Matt continued. “I’ve cared about her since before any of this, and I don’t expect you to be thrilled about how you found out—but you should know this isn’t some joke.”

His hand squeezed mine under the table, a small anchor in the storm. The words that had just left his mouth still lingered in the air, and for a moment, it almost didn’t feel like an act. It almost felt like he meant them.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look at my parents again.

“Mother, Father…” My voice trembled, but I pushed through. “I know you aren’t pleased with this. But the reason I’ve been so resistant to the engagement is because of Matt.”

Their faces remained unreadable, carved from stone. My heart plummeted at their lack of reaction.

“And I…” My throat felt tight, the words catching, but I let them out anyway. “I love Matt.”

That finally drew a shift—just the smallest exchange of glances between them, subtle but heavy. Like they were silently deciding what to make of me…of us.

Beside me, Matt sat with an expression of calm control. He didn’t flinch, didn’t falter, even as the weight of their scrutiny pressed down on him.

Father finally leaned forward, steepling his hands on the table. His eyes fixed on Matt, sharp and assessing. “So, Matt…” he said slowly, “how exactly did you and Eden meet?”

My stomach clenched so tight it hurt.

I prayed he remembered every detail of the story we’d pieced together the night before.

Matt, however, didn’t miss a beat. He straightened slightly in his chair, voice steady, respectful. “We met at Vivianne Hall, sir. Eden figure skates there, and I…” he glanced at me with a fleeting smile, “…I’m on the hockey team.”

My parents’ eyes narrowed, assessing, weighing his words. Matt continued, carefully telling the story.

“One night, I stayed late after practice, and Eden was still on the ice, running her program. I was heading out, but—” his lips tugged upward faintly, as though the memory was fond—“I got caught watching. She noticed, of course, and told me off for staring. But… we started talking. And, well… one conversation turned into another.”

I held my breath. He was perfect. His delivery was smooth, natural—like he was pulling it from a real memory rather than a fabrication we scrambled together over takeout last night.

“And,” Matt added, his tone softening, “I just… kept showing up. Watching her skate. Until, eventually, I didn’t need an excuse anymore.”

Elean shifted uncomfortably across from us, her brows drawn in suspicion. My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. Father leaned back again, his gaze lingering on Matt like he was dissecting him.

“Hmm,” Father finally hummed. “Convenient, isn’t it? A hockey boy and a skater crossing paths. Almost poetic.”

I forced a small smile, my pulse thundering in my ears. If only they knew how much of this was stitched together with nothing but hope and lies.

Father’s gaze lingered on Matt a little too long, sharp as a hawk circling over prey. 

For once, though, I wasn’t trembling. 

Matt was calm, controlled, the way he always seemed to be when the stakes were high. And watching him answer so effortlessly… it actually made me believe that we could pull this off.

“So, Matt,” my father said, voice even but probing, “Now, tell me about your family. I know the name Sturniolo is big… your father holds large estates, does he not? Goes back a century?”

Matt inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, sir. My father owns several properties and companies—some here in the city, some abroad. Real estate has been huge for my family for generations.”

Mother’s brow lifted ever so slightly, impressed but not revealing much else. Elean, on the other hand, blinked in surprise, clearly piecing things together.

Father steepled his fingers again. “And their impact?”

Matt didn’t hesitate. “It’s… significant, sir. My family has invested in development projects that have provided not only luxury estates but also housing communities and commercial hubs. We take pride in being contributors to the city’s growth. My father often says it’s not just about the profit—it’s about building a legacy.”

I stole a glance at him. His voice was confident, polished, like he had practiced speeches like this a hundred times before. For a moment, I almost forgot this was an act.

“And you?” my father asked, his tone tightening. “Where do you see yourself in all of this?”

The hell was this? A job interview? Even Henry didn't answer these many questions.

Matt straightened subtly, his hand brushing mine beneath the table again—firm, reassuring.

“I plan to continue in my father’s footsteps, sir. Finance has always been my strength, and my father has a place for me within his company. It’s only a matter of time before I step into that role.”

Father’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Finance, hm?”

“Yes,” Matt said smoothly. “My father’s company handles billions in assets. The weight of that responsibility isn’t lost on me, but it’s a challenge I’m eager to take on.”

My father nodded, and I almost seen an inche of... jealousy? It would make sense. Matt's family was everything my father wanted to be.

The dining hall seemed to go quiet, the clink of silverware momentarily absent. Even my mother sat up straighter, as though she hadn’t expected such a firm and composed answer.

I, on the other hand, felt my heart finally slow to something steady. This was going well. Almost too well.

Matt glanced at me briefly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. To my parents, it probably looked like confidence.

To me, it felt like a silent message: See? I’ve got this. 

Dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation and careful answers.

Eventually, the staff cleared away the final dishes, and the clatter of silverware gave way to silence. My parents exchanged one of their wordless looks, the kind that always made me tense.

Mother dabbed her lips with her napkin, then rose gracefully from her chair, and so did my father. They disappeared, leaving me, Matt, and Elean at the table.

I ignored Elean's curious stare.

Matt just gave her an awkward wave,

Then they came back.

“Eden,” she said, her voice calm but threaded with that underlying firmness I knew all too well. “Come. Let’s speak in your room for a moment.”

My stomach dropped.

“Now?” I asked carefully.

“Yes, now.” Her eyes flicked toward Elean. “And you as well, darling.”

Elean’s brows arched, curiosity sparking immediately. “Of course,” she said, rising with a slight grin that promised she’d be trolling me the moment we were alone.

I turned to Matt, panic tugging at me, but before I could say anything, Father’s deep voice cut in.

“Matt,” he said, his tone shifting into something heavier, almost testing. “You drink?”

Matt blinked once, then answered honestly. “Not really, sir. Occasionally. A glass of wine or whiskey, sometimes.”

Father nodded once, “Good. Join me for a drink in the study.”

My breath hitched. 

This was it. 

The real test.

Matt straightened smoothly, his posture calm but alert, like he’d been expecting this. “Of course.”

I felt his hand brush mine under the table one last time—quick, almost secretive.

A squeeze. It was his way of saying Don’t worry.

But worry I did.

Because as Mother and Elean guided me upstairs, I glanced back at Matt. He was following my father into the shadowed corridor that led to the study, his frame disappearing behind the door.

God, I could only hope whatever Matt was about to say downstairs lined up with the story I’d been spinning.

When we reached my room, Mother shut the door behind us with a little too much force. She turned, her arms folding across her chest, her gaze heavy with disappointment.

“Are you serious, Eden?” she asked finally, her voice cool but dripping with restrained fury. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

I squared my shoulders, even though my heart pounded. “Yes, Mother. I do. And I don’t regret it.”

Her lips thinned. “We worked too hard—too hard—to secure the arrangement with Henry’s family, and you throw it all away for… for this?” She said, basically talking about Matt. “Do you have any idea of the damage you’re creating for us? For yourself?”

I clenched my jaw. “I know exactly what I’m doing. And I’m not marrying Henry.”

Mother’s nostrils flared. She turned to Elean with a pointed look. “Tell your sister how foolish she’s being. You’ve always been the sensible one.”

Elean shifted her weight, then fixed me with a flat stare. “You’re stupid,” she said in a deadpan voice, like she was commenting on the weather.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the support, Elean. Really moving.”

Mother let out a sharp breath, frustration crackling off her like static. “Eden, this—whatever you think this is—it won’t last. You and Matt? A temporary distraction. That’s all. You’re not built for each other, not in the long run.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, but she cut me off, her voice rising.

“Yes, he’s a good boy,” she admitted, “polite, well-mannered, with the right upbringing—but Henry…” She sighed, frustrated. “Henry was a man. A man who understood responsibility, who brought with him assets. He was stability, power, and security. He was worth more than this—than your little rebellion.”

I felt my nails dig into my palms. “Matt isn’t a rebel.”

Mother’s lips parted, but no words came. She turned away, clearly trying to collect herself.

Elean muttered, almost amused, “Well… at least you’re passionate.”

Mother spun back, glare sharp. “This is reckless, Eden. You’ll see it for yourself soon enough. Feelings fade. ”

Mother’s heels clicked furiously against the hardwood as she stormed out, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the chandelier. The silence she left behind was sharp, charged.

Elean sat back against Eden’s headboard, her arms folded, eyes fixed on me with that deadpan look that always got under my skin. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I shot back instantly, pulse still racing.

“A Sturniolo?” She arched a brow, like the name itself was some kind of joke. “Are you actually serious, Eden?”

My head jerked toward her. “What do you mean by that?”

She smirked faintly, shaking her head. “You sure know how to pick a man. I’ll give you that. But Henry—” she exhaled like the name alone carried weight “—Henry was a good choice.”

I stared at her, disbelief flashing through me. “A good choice? For who? Certainly not for me.”

Elean tilted her head, watching me closely, like she was enjoying peeling back layers I didn’t know I had. “You think you won’t fall in love with him, Eden. You’re saying all this like you can control it. But you will. You’ll fall. And it’ll ruin you.”

My chest tightened, a flare of panic sparking, and I raised my voice before I could stop myself. “No, I won’t!”

Her gaze sharpened, steady and unblinking. “Well,” she said flatly, “I did.”

The words hit me like ice water, knocking the breath from my lungs. My mouth opened, but nothing came out for a beat.

Finally, I forced it out, my voice trembling but defiant. “Well, I’m not you.”

Elean’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away.

“Henry and your husband?” I said, my voice rising again, anger bubbling in my throat. “They’re two different people. You might have been able to have good come out of that choice, but don’t you dare expect me to do the same.” 

I left my room with my head still buzzing from the argument with my mother and Elean, but I forced my expression into something smooth, collected. If there was one thing I’d learned growing up in this house, it was how to mask. My heels clicked softly against the polished marble as I descended the grand staircase, each step echoing in the cavernous quiet of the house.

The double doors to Father’s study were cracked open, the faint scent of cigar smoke drifting out. I caught Matt’s voice—steady, polite, just the way we’d practiced. My chest tightened with a strange sort of pride. He was holding his own.

I pushed the door open gently and slipped inside. Matt sat across from Father at the mahogany desk, a crystal glass of amber liquid in front of him. He wasn’t drinking, just holding it, posture straight, gaze unwavering. Father studied him like a hawk studies prey.

“Hey, baby,” I said lightly, the word rolling off my tongue like it was second nature. I crossed the room, sliding a hand onto Matt’s shoulder in a way that looked both casual and intimate. 

His eyes flickered up at me, and for a second, I swore I saw relief flash through them.

“We should probably head back to campus before it gets too late,” I added, squeezing his shoulder.

Father’s eyes narrowed slightly, shifting between us. “Already?” His voice was even, but there was weight behind it, suspicion laced into every syllable. 

“Yes,” I said quickly, too quickly, but I tried to cover it with a smile. “Classes tomorrow. You know how it is.”

Matt rose to his feet, the glass still untouched on the desk. He gave Father a small, respectful nod. “Thank you for the drink, sir.”

Father said nothing, only leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. 

As we made our way to the front door, Mother appeared in the foyer, arms crossed tightly. She didn’t say anything at first, just watched us with that sharp, unreadable gaze of hers.

“Goodnight,” she finally said, voice clipped, polite, but so obviously laced with disappointment.

“Goodnight,” Father echoed, stepping out from the study. His tone was calm, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

Matt reached for the door. 

We left.

And it left like a shit story.

I quickened my steps, practically rushing toward the sleek black car parked in the driveway.

By the time I slid into the passenger seat, my pulse was pounding, staring straight ahead as Matt climbed in beside me.

I didn’t dare look back at the house.

The tall iron gates of my parents’ estate loomed in the distance, but I didn’t even make it that far before the dam broke.

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, and cracked sobs left my throat. I pressed the heels of my palms against my face, but it was useless—my shoulders were already shaking, my chest already heaving with quiet sobs.

I saw Matt flinch at my sobs.

“Eden—hey.” his voice was sharp with concern as one hand immediately left the wheel to reach for me. His palm rested against my knee, steady, warm, grounding. “Talk to me. What happened? I thought… I thought it went well?”

I shook my head violently, forcing the words out between uneven breaths.

“No, Matt. They made you think it went well because you were there.” I pulled my hands away from my face, tears streaking hot down to my chin as I turned to him. “You didn’t see my mom when you weren’t around. She was upset—furious. My mom—” my throat caught, but I pushed through, voice rising. “She literally said everything I already knew she was thinking.”

Matt’s brows knit together, his grip on my leg tightening like he could will me back together with just his touch. He kept glancing between me and the road, jaw tense. “What… what did she say?”

I dragged in a shaky breath, wiping my face roughly, my fingers trembling. “She said we’re temporary. That we’ll never last. That Henry was the better choice—.” The words came out like venom, and I clenched my fists in my lap. “She doesn’t see you. She doesn’t care about me. All she cares about is their damn deal with the Astors, and so does my father”

Matt’s hand slid up to lace with mine, pulling my clenched fist open. His thumb brushed slowly over the back of my hand, his voice softer now, but heavy with conviction. “Luna, look at me.”

I turned, reluctantly, my tear-filled eyes meeting his.

“Just calm down for now.”

Something in his tone—low, steady, unshakably certain—made my chest ache even harder. For a moment, I just stared at him, like maybe if I memorized his face right then, it would drown out the image of my mother’s disappointment. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I choked out, my voice barely steady. “Maybe I should just… I don’t know—figure something else out.”

“Eden—”

“No, Matt, listen.” My hands flew to my face again, my words tumbling over each other, frantic. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. You shouldn’t have to deal with my parents, their expectations, their stupid deals. This isn’t your fight. I—I should just end this now, before it gets worse.”

The more I spoke, the faster my breathing got, until I was gasping, my throat tight and burning. I couldn’t stop the tears flooding back, couldn’t stop my chest from rising and falling too quickly.

“Eden—hey. Hey, look at me.” Matt’s voice cut through, sharp but calm, his hand leaving the wheel completely this time to grab my wrist. He pulled my trembling hands down from my face and forced me to meet his eyes. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

“I can’t,” I gasped, shaking my head, my lungs clawing for air.

“Yes, you can. In—slow. Out—slow.” He exaggerated a deep inhale through his nose, then exhaled steadily through his mouth, his thumb brushing over my skin in rhythm. “With me, okay? In… and out.”

I tried. It was messy at first, a hiccup of a breath breaking in the middle, but slowly the tightness in my chest loosened enough that I could follow.

Matt’s expression softened when he saw my shoulders drop a fraction. His voice lowered, firm but gentle. “Don’t apologize for this. You didn’t drag me into your family’s mess—I agreed because I wanted to.”

“But—”

“No.” He cut me off, shaking his head, his grip on me unwavering. “If anything, tonight just proved how much I don’t want to see you go through this alone. Luna, your parents—they’re wrong. They don’t get to decide your life, and they sure as hell don’t get to scare me off.”

The conviction in his tone made something inside me stutter.

“I’ll still help you,” he said, eyes burning into mine with that unshakable certainty that terrified me almost as much as it comforted me. “If anything… this just makes me want to drag you out of this mess even more.”

I shook my head at him, half in disbelief. 

How did this guy even come into my life? 

Where did I even find a Matt? 

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

He smiled, squeezing my hand again. “You're very welcome.”

And despite everything, despite the weight still pressing on me, I found myself leaning into him. 

Matt's thumb brushed slow circles against my skin as if keeping me tethered. The steady motion of the car, the low hum of the engine, and his voice—calm, warm, unshaken—wrapped around me like a blanket.

“You’re good, Eden,” he murmured, so softly I almost thought I imagined it.

The words sank into me, heavier than the panic, heavier than the fear, and before I could stop myself, I leaned sideways. My shoulder pressed against his arm, and then my head found his shoulder. His shirt smelled faintly of cologne and something sharper, clean and grounding.

“I didn’t mean to…” I whispered, my eyelids already dragging shut.

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said quickly, his voice quiet, almost protective. “Just rest, Luna.”

Gosh, this guy was such a sweetheart.

I could tell this was the start of a genuine friendship between me and this sweet ass sunshine boy.

READ ALL RELEASED PARTS HERE!

[a/n: psa matt is very subby in this series, tee hee. I love you, mwah!] - ceyana

tags: @chrissturniolodailysluts @charmersturns @jaybirdie34 @oopsiedaisydeer @mattsdivaa @autumnjadesposts @mattysmrwrinkleton @meatballlover10 @fmg05 @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnsfluff @kingofeverythingmb @enviedparty101 @malox12 @wesj11 @delilahsturniolo @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @pair-of-pantaloons @chrisbambi @sturnsobsessed21 @le4hsblog @sturnsheart @carrielovesmatt @lilianasturnsz @courta13 @angelxsturns @sagesturns @beardedbernard @chriss-slutt @sturnsplatter @kiarasmaybank @ifamils @kenah-sturniolo-33

comment 'taglist' on this post to be added to taglist!

[courta13]

﹙📀﹚rapper!matt’s newest album ✶ ᳝ ࣪

st4rboy’s third studio album, titled ‘ZOMBIELAND’.

「 track 01 ⸝⸝ small worlds ✷ 」

「 track 02 ⸝⸝ ladders ✷ 」

「 track 03 ⸝⸝ lovin on me ✷ 」

「 track 04 ⸝⸝ i wanna see some ass ✷ 」

「 track 05 ⸝⸝ love lost ✷ 」

「 track 06 ⸝⸝ just us (ft. iridescent) ✷ 」

「 track 07 ⸝⸝ talk of the town ✷ 」

「 track 08 ⸝⸝ like a blade of grass ✷ 」

「 track 09 ⸝⸝ denver ✷ 」 single .ᐟ

「 track 10 ⸝⸝ st4rgirl interlude (ft. iridescent) ✷ 」

「 track 11 ⸝⸝ woods ✷ 」 single .ᐟ

「 track 12 ⸝⸝ c’est la vie (ft. chri$, yungdoe) ✷ 」

﹙gabs yaps﹚this was so fun!! matt is 100% mac miller coded, but jack harlow is def rapper!matt’s new sound!! :3 also yungdoe is obviously nate, and he’s definitely rich brian while chris is bbno$ and matt is yung gravy lmfaoo

inspo: @777freshlove @mattscoquette @luvs4matt @immaqulate

﹙tags﹚@sturnsflirt @stevielovesmatt @sturns-mermaid @silverspringsstare @adorechris @fairychris @y2kstarr @angelxsturns @angvl3tears @h3arts4nat @ellieluvssturniolos @nickslicense @conspiracy-ash @lyingonchris @courta13 @sirensdollesque @tezzzzzzzz @bejeweledinterludes2 @rekafilmz @bernardsbloopers @delilahsturniolo @mattsturnsangel @mattsdiamonds @mi-co-uk

[courta13]

﹙💿﹚iridescent!reader’s first album ✶ ᳝ ࣪

iridescent’s first studio album, titled ‘IRIDESCENCE’.

꒰ track 01 ⸝⸝ castles ✷ ꒱ single .ᐟ

꒰ track 02 ⸝⸝ cycles ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 03 ⸝⸝ tonight ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 04 ⸝⸝ clover ✷ ꒱ single .ᐟ

꒰ track 05 ⸝⸝ gymnastics ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 06 ⸝⸝ like a taxi (oh well) ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 07 ⸝⸝ girl like me ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 08 ⸝⸝ cinema ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 09 ⸝⸝ idgaf ✷ ꒱ single .ᐟ

꒰ track 10 ⸝⸝ under your spell ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 11 ⸝⸝ watch me fly ✷ ꒱

꒰ track 12 ⸝⸝ diamond cuts ✷ ꒱ single .ᐟ

﹙gabs yaps﹚this was so hard ngl bc the type of music i chose for her is so distinct but also diff at the same time? BUT STILL INCREDIBLY FUN NONETHELESS!! i luv her!!

inspo: @777freshlove @mattscoquette @luvs4matt @immaqulate

﹙tags﹚@sturnsflirt @stevielovesmatt @sturns-mermaid @silverspringsstare @adorechris @fairychris @y2kstarr @angelxsturns @angvl3tears @h3arts4nat @ellieluvssturniolos @nickslicense @conspiracy-ash @lyingonchris @courta13 @sirensdollesque @tezzzzzzzz @bejeweledinterludes2 @rekafilmz @bernardsbloopers @delilahsturniolo @mattsturnsangel @mattsdiamonds @mi-co-uk

[courta13]

ִ ⋆ ⸜ 📀 𓂃 𓈒 rapper!matt !!

𓏲𓈒 paired with ⸝⸝ iridescent!reader﹙💿﹚.ᐟ.ᐟ

✶ :: st4rboy. started in high-school. he and his brothers’ youtube channel was originally made to promote his and ‘chri$’s music careers. fell in love with iri during his first tour. ‘bite me’ lip tattoo. horse necklace. a single iridescent nail. toothpicks. black cards. silver rings. rare pokémon cards. gone gold multiple times. nearly quit his second tour, solely because iri left halfway. his recent third album, ‘zombieland’.

﹙gabs yaps﹚huge thank you to @h3arts4nat for giving me permission to do my own version of rapper!matt!! also peep @sturnsflirt’s rapper!chris (brothers in every universe) 🤍🤍.

﹙tags﹚@sturnsflirt @stevielovesmatt @sturns-mermaid @silverspringsstare @adorechris @fairychris @y2kstarr @angelxsturns @angvl3tears @h3arts4nat @ellieluvssturniolos @nickslicense @conspiracy-ash @lyingonchris @courta13 @sirensdollesque @tezzzzzzzz @bejeweledinterludes2 @rekafilmz @bernardsbloopers @delilahsturniolo @mattsturnsangel @mattsdiamonds @mi-co-uk

[courta13]

ִ ⋆ ⸜ 💿 𓂃 𓈒 iridescent!reader !!

𓏲𓈒 paired with ⸝⸝ rapper!matt﹙📀﹚.ᐟ.ᐟ

✶ :: iri. used to be one of matt’s backup dancers. makes her music with code. djs her more technical songs. y2k. long nails. lip gloss. skin always showing. shiny hair clips. released a few singles two years ago. iridescent nails. tooth gems. rbf. rhinestone headphones. lip liner n falsies. glitter tattoos. has a tramp stamp. hair tinsel. her first ever album, ‘iridescence’.

﹙gabs yaps﹚my brain child i love her SO MUCH #iri4life

﹙tags﹚@sturnsflirt @stevielovesmatt @sturns-mermaid @silverspringsstare @adorechris @fairychris @y2kstarr @angelxsturns @angvl3tears @h3arts4nat @ellieluvssturniolos @nickslicense @conspiracy-ash @lyingonchris @courta13 @sirensdollesque @tezzzzzzzz @bejeweledinterludes2 @rekafilmz @bernardsbloopers @delilahsturniolo @mattsturnsangel @mattsdiamonds @mi-co-uk

[courta13]

introducing . . . corrupted!matt

best paired with angel!reader 𐦍

─── ౨ৎ

one day, i am gonna grow wings

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ matthew sturniolo. twenty-two. beanies. leather jackets. cd’s. camo print. baggy jeans. closed blinds. headphones. black converse. radiohead. semi-reckless driving. occasionally smokes to quiet his mind. hurts others before they can hurt him.

© angelicchris

[courta13]

introducing . . . angel!reader 𐦍

best paired with corrupted!matt

─── ౨ৎ

it’s hard to find an angel when it’s hell on earth

Any sightings or information on the identity of this girl?

Contact the inbox of Matthew Sturniolo

© angelicchris

࿐ i do not know who created the first angel!reader au, but there are many pre-existing ones ♡

notes ⋆. 𐙚 ₊˚ ofc this had to be my first au.. for the wrong triplet