izzylovesmatt

[izzylovesmatt]

SUCKER || Dealer! Chris x Maneater! Reader

chapter three.

notes: sorry guys, I got carried away. I might split this into two parts. Also, sorry for not updating regularly, ive been swamped at work :(

warnings: swearing, smoking weed, mentions of drugs (no use, just dealing),

Jayden was... nice. I was currently sitting across from the boy with neatly styled hair, a pressed, clean shirt, and a suave smile. He had the balls to come up to me while I was out at the cafe near my apartment, he told me I was gorgeous, and that he would love to show me a restaurant for dinner if I liked this place. He was too nice, and the more that the conversation went between us, the more I felt like I was sitting in a lecture. A lecture purely on him. He spoke about all the houses his family owned, how he graduated with honors in Finance and Law. I don't think I've gotten a single word out this whole date besides the greeting when we first walked in.

The restaurant was great; it was a neat little Italian place a few blocks away from where I lived. He also offered to pick me up, but I politely declined. Sure, why don't I just let you see where I live, random man I've never actually had more than a single convo with? I sat with my little red dress, the long sleeves covering my arms as they crossed each other. My hair was in a classy, mid-bun with curls falling out, and my fingertips were tapping against the stem of my wine glass. My knee-high boots tapped against my folded leg as my foot played along to the song in the background. I don't think I've heard this man say anything even remotely interesting. My thoughts wondered to a certain brunette boy who would've given anything to see me smile.

I nodded with a tight lipped, polite smile as Jayden had started another story about how his grandfather took him for polo lessons as a kid. I looked around the resturant, looking at the people who were having actual engaging conversations. There were red and white plaid table clothes on some of the wooden tables, some wicker basket chairs after some of the booths. I actually really like this place, but god was Jayden making it feel like it was claustrophobic. His big head was taking up about half the room with his ego. "It was rather lovely, the fields were always green when we went in summer-" I zoned him out, when my phone lit up next to me. It was an unknown number, so curiously, I picked it up and opened it.

"you're enjoying your date over there, princess?" My heart raced, I instantly started looking around. How the fuck, did this drug dealer fiend get into a place like this. Then it dawned on me, what if it's some random? I looked around, trying to spot a certain brunette triplet, even going as far to lean out of my seat a little bit, but I couldn't see anyone. I was about to text back and ask who this was, when no other than Chris walked up to our table, one hand in his pocket and one hand holding a takeaway bag. His loose curls were free of the backwards cap, but he looked good. He swaggered up and had a smug smile on his face, looking like he just spawned out of nowhere. I sent him a sharp, what the fuck glare, which he just winked at. I was almost, almost about to get angry, but I knew that deep down I was breathing a huge sigh of relief. He stuck out like a sore thumb; his casual attire really did not match the vibe of this place. He casually just dragged a chair from the table next to us, placed it next to me and spread himself leisurely across it.

I think this was the first time that Jayden had actually just stopped talking. I looked at Chris, Jayden looked at Chris, and Chris just lazily smiled back up at me. "What are you doing here?" I finally asked, looking at him expectantly. Jayden looked pissed, "Yeah man, what the fuck? Who are you?" I rolled my eyes at that answer, my god. I know this wasn't convenient for him, but no need to be a dick about it. I sent a sharp gaze over in Jayden's direction, not impressed, but he didn't seem to care as his focus was all on the boy sitting next to me.

Chris leaned over, picking up a piece of bread from the basket in between us and started peeling off pieces and shoving them in his mouth. "'M here to save her from this god-awful date." Chris muffled through a mouth full of bread, and I was so shocked at his answer that I actually let out a laugh. I put my hand in front of my mouth embarrassingly so, which Chris just cheekily smiled at. Jayden then looked at me, back at Chris, then zoned in on me once again. "Did you set me up?" He seethed, his face turning flush with anger and I looked at him with an 'excuse me?' look. "You're just a fucking stuck up bitch, why couldn't you just tell me you weren't interested?" He shouted, slamming his hands on the table, acting like a toddler. I placed my hand on the table, leaning in to not cause any more of a scene then he was. "Look, I had no idea this man was even here, but you've done absolutely nothing but speak about yourself, I mean do you even know a single thing about me? If he can see that this is a terrible date, then I have nothing more I really need to say, now do I?" I smiled sweetly at him, reaching for my purse and throwing a 50 on the table, standing up and pushing the chair back with an awful screech.

"Here's for my wine, and next time you think about taking a girl on a date, give her a chance to fucking speak." I spat, grabbing my purse and tapping Chris on the back before making my way over to the entrance of the restaurant. Chris grabbed two more pieces of bread out the basket, before saluting Jayden and followed close behind me. He walked out next to me, "Hey! Slow down woman! Are you okay?" He asked, following in my footsteps.

As soon as we were a few walking steps down the sidewalk, I stopped, turned to him and let out a belly laugh. God, I can't believe this is happening to me. I placed my hands on my hips, breathing in big deep breaths in between laughs. I heard Chris nervously laugh along too, probably looking at me like I was crazy. I wiped the tears from my eyes, "Did you see the look on his face! God, what a stuck up, asshat. How did you know I was there?" I shouted and questioned, placing a hand on his shoulder, softening my giggles. He shrugged at me, "Oh you know, I just saw this pretty girl who looked bored out of her mind when I came to get see what they have for takeout. Thought she needed saving." He smirked down playfully at me.

Chris stood next to me with a big smile on his face, still shoving peeled off pieces of bread, I smiled up at him. "Oh, so that's why you're out. Totally not stalking me or anything." I teased, falling back into step with him. He rolled his eyes, passing his extra bread roll over to me without even looking at me. I gently took it, peeling pieces off as he did and started nibling. "Where's your car?" He asked, seeing as were almost about a block and a half away from the restaurant. I shrugged, "I took an uber, but its not far from my place, I don't mind walking." I ripped another piece, placing the soft bread in my mouth. He stopped, dead in his tracks and looked at me with a wild and absurd expression. He then rolled his eyes, shaking his head, before grabbing my forearm. "Not a fuck am I letting you walk. I mean, have you seen the type of dudes out here? You were just on a date with one!" He lectured, pulling me across the street and a little further down. I rolled my eyes, "I can handle myself, thank you very much. It looks like youre fucking kidnapping me right now!" We continued walking and I really was not complaining, before Chris stopped in front of a BMW 5 Series. I looked up at him and back at the car, and he huffed, rolling his eyes once again. He opened the door for me, holding my hand as he helped me into the car.

"Wow, a thug and a gentleman, who would've guessed?" I teased, sarcastic, as he made his way into the driver's side. He rolled his eyes as he got him, pushing the 'push-to-start' button, and putting the car into drive. "How do I know you're not one of those weirdo's out here to kidnap me?" I sassed, turning to look at him. He looked at me with a blank, 'really?' look. "Listen, I've got shit to loose, if anything, I'm scared you're going to kidnap me." He chirped back, shaking his head and looking forward, pulling out of the parking space and creeping up the street.

"Kidnap you! You're lucky I don't have my hands around your neck. I'm flattered you're scared of me, that's what I was aiming for." I said, crossing my arms, looking outside. He smirked, a ghost of a smile behind it, shaking his head at my reaction once again. "Alright, you prissy princess, where are we going?" I looked at him, with a skew look. "Um, my house?" I argued. He stopped at a red light, "C'mon, you got all dressed up and pretty and had a shitty date. How about this, I've got some to do some runs, but after that, I can show you what it's like to go on a real date." He rambled, talking animatedly with his hands as he drove. The way he acted, really didn't show that he was a drug dealer.

"Are you fucking joking? You want me to come on runs with you? I am not some thug accomplice Chris!" I said, turning my body to face him fully. He rolled his eyes at me, "I'm not hearing a no?" He huffed, smirking slightly at my reaction. I crossed my arms, looking out the window. "I did dress up really nice," I murmured, softly. I heard Chris let out a laugh, tapping my thigh gently with his big hand. "Atta girl, lets go have some fun." I smacked away his hand once again, missing it already. I heard him whisper to himself, "God, you're so dramatic." I gasped and pushed his shoulder. He put his hands up in surrender, "What? It's true!"

We eventually started driving through some random neighbour hoods, some with large, high houses, others with simple flats. He was nice enough to let me play some music, so I started shuffling through and decided to settle on some Pouya songs, which I could see he appreciated. Conversation flowed between us, naturally, and the more I got to know Chris, the more I started to realise that he was different. A good different, one that made me want to learn more about him. We had just talked about the basic things, where we grew up, our favourite shows, but he gave me chances to speak about myself, like he was actually interested. The last house we pulled up too, was a small, single-story flat. Its fence was not up to par and the streetlights were not all working, but the garden was neatly kept and the patio didn't look half bad. It had peeling green paint on the outside, and the rusted golden number showed '7'. Chris pulled out his phone, silently parking outside the house, phoning someone.

A man, in a black hoodie and some sweats, quickly opened the door to his house and made his way to Chris's window, with a huge smile on his face. He leaned down; Chris rolled the window so he could meet him. "What's up Chris? Thanks for coming dawg." He spoke, and as he leaned down, I locked eye contact with him. He had some face-tattoos, his hair in dreads. He smiled at me, gold grills on some of his teeth. I smiled politely, before looking at Chris, not knowing what the fuck to do in this situation. "Huh, Chris has got a girl with him, I ain't never seen that before. And she's hot as fuck. This your girlfriend Chris?" He teased, placing a thick wad of cash into Chris's hand. He kept looking between me and Chris, but continued to speak like I wasn't even there? What the fuck is going on? I was gobsmacked, most of the people just came and took their shit, this man doesn't seem to care.

Chris reached over to me, pulling open the cubbyhole, and pulling out a couple baggies, some had green leaves, and one had white powder. One bag even had some small, multi-coloured capsules. I blushed when I felt his arm press against my legs. "Something like that," He replied, clearly not interested in conversation with this man. He closed the cubbyhole, handed him his stash and sent a wink flying my way. I looked at him confused, but my heart beat increased, and I felt my face flush. We bid this man goodbye, Chris rolled up his window and drove off down the street.

He looked at me, clearly irked. "Sorry about him, he just doesn't know when to shut up." I shook my head, "It's no problem, I just didn't know what the fuck was even going on." I chuckled softly. He smiled in return, "Alright, that was my last run, no more scary people." He cheesed, looking at me with lazy eyes. "You hungry, Princess?" I smiled, a small one, trying to refuse how hot he looked. I nodded, "What do you feel like getting? Anything you want," He said, leaning back leisurely in his chair, his gaze flicking to me and the road.

I thought about it, looking at him with a teasing look. "If I'm being totally honest with you, I'm really craving some greasy fast food." I said, a little unsure. He smirked back at me, "Some chicken nuggets, for the finest lady?" Teasing, patting a hand on my thigh once again. "You have to choose where we go, though." I stated, cheekily smiling at the brunette. He nodded, pursed his lips. "I got it," he said, driving away from the suburbs.

He had pulled us into a Burger King, and my eyes lit up. I grabbed his shoulder and shook it excitedly, "Yes! This is my favourite! We have to get matching crowns too Chris." I said and turned to look at him. He had a grin on his face, parking the car. "Let's go get those crowns." He came to my side of the car, opened the door for me like the gentleman he was. I smirked, "Aren't you scared it's going to ruin your whole criminal look you've got going on?" I said, placing my hand in his and getting out of the car. He tutted, "I can still look swag as fuck." He gloated, pulling out a flex of his muscles, which made me fake gag in return. I followed him into the restaurant, walking besides him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, smirking down at me. "You know, I was not expecting to come to Burger King for our first date."

I shoved him off, placing a hand on my hip as we walked inside, "Who said anything about this being a date." I quipped, returning his smirk. He placed a hand on the base of my spine and walked us to the counter. He ordered for us but leaned down to me again. "We both know it's a date, sweetheart. Get off your high-horse and just enjoy it." He snipped, making me want to swipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"Fuck sakes," I mumbled, feeling a heat run through my chest. I blushed, looking away as he continued with the cashier. Chris grabbed the takeout, before asking the cashier for two of the paper king crowns, grabbing them and stopping me before we made it to the door. He placed the food on a table nearby, grabbing my waist and making me stand straight in front of him. He maneuvered the paper crown, folding it together, before he gently grabbed the underside of my jaw, and placed the crown on top of my head. I smiled up at him, scrunching my nose, as he gently took my hair behind my ear for the crown to sit properly.

He placed his own crown on his head, looking down at me with that, upside down smile, the one that looks like he's trying not to smile, but he just can't help it. He placed a hand on the base of my spine again, grabbing the food and walking us back out the car. He opened the door for me again, helping me into the car, placing the takeout bag on my lap, before heading to the driver's side. I handed him his burger and fries, taking out my own, and placing the chicken nuggets in between both of us on the centre console, so we could share. He sent me a charming smile, taking one of the nuggets and placing it in his mouth. "You know what would make this even better?" He spoke with a mouth-full of food, which I grimaced at before looking at him curiously. He reached into the side of his door, pulling out a freshly rolled joint. I cheered, "Okay, maybe this is like my dream date or something." I mumbled, quickly shoving some fries in my mouth. He looked over at me, placing the joint between his lips. He moved to fix the crown that had gone slightly askew on my head with a gentle touch. "Princess, this is the bare minimum. I thought you out of all people would know that." I shrugged, "I don't need expensive things to like you." I uttered out. He looked a little shocked, but smirked, nonetheless. He lit the joint, taking a drag.

Once he had puffed it a few times, he gave it over to me. We were both facing each other, the night lights and the interior Led's giving us a soft glow. I looked at him, big, aspiring eyes, before taking the joint from his hand. I took a few drags, blowing out away from his face, before handing it back. There wasn't much said, just two people enjoying each other's company. The lowered music in the background, my heart thundering in my chest. I looked at him again, but Chris's blue eyes were already on mine. I moved to hand him back the joint, but he grabs my wrist, pulls my hand over his shoulder and closer towards him, his left hand slithering towards my waist. We were inches away, so close I could smell the weed off his breath. He placed a soft hand on my neck with his right hand, his thumb just below my jaw, looking at me with hooded eyes. "Such a pretty girl," he said, almost a purr. I looked up at him once again, through my eyelashes. I could not show that he was making me blush, but I'm sure he could feel the heat from my neck. "You gonna do something about it?" I teased, to which smirked at, rolled his eyes, before speaking almost against my lips, "Do you want me to?" His eyes were now fully lowered to my mouth. I started to grow frustrated at this game, so I pulled my head to the side, "Don't waste my time, Chris." I said, more meaning than what I had intended.

Frustrated too, Chris's other hand reached up, pulling my face into his again. "Stop being so fucking dramatic," He whispered, eyes fire-y. And with that, he pulled me in for a kiss. It was full of emotions; his lips were softer than I expected to be. I gasped into the kiss, gripping his sweatshirt like my life depended on it. He asked for entry with his tongue, to which I allowed. We kissed each other, ferociously, our tongues exploring each other's mouths. The weed, him, the kiss, his hands, it was all making me dizzy. So dizzy in fact, that I had dropped the joint somewhere between. He pulled away first, but almost chased my mouth for another kiss, making me smile. "Mm, I think you could use a little more kissing lessons," I grabbed his chin, teasing him, looking at his soft, pink lips, now swollen slightly. Fully joking, knowing this was one of the best kisses I've had to date. His hooded eyes followed mine, before lazily smiling back up at me. "Only if you're gonna teach them." He muttered, placing a hand on my thigh. I let out a small laugh, leaning in to kiss him once more.

Who is the sucker now?

A/N: YAAAYYYY THEY FINALLY KISSED WHOOOO

tags -> @chrispycremedonut @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @iluvchr1s @passionfruitchris

[izzylovesmatt]

omg thats so scary i hope shes okay

HEY GUYS!! just wanna clarify, i am 100% OKAY thank you so much @izzylovesmatt for checking up on me! i was on the way to the ER because of my mom... YES she is okay, she just lowkey stopped seeing 🧍🏻‍♀️like out of nowhere she was like "yo i cant see anymore" TURNS OUT!! a little vein in her eye ripped, so it was leaking blood! we shall see what happens next 😜

[izzylovesmatt]

IN WHICH— you and chris hangout at a small get together.

| all fun! not proofread.

| the REST of this writing marathon!

chris is in his room, laying on top of the sheets in grey sweats and a hoodie he hasn’t taken off all day. his tv’s on, volume low, playing something he’s not even watching. one sock on. phone sitting on his chest, buzzing every few minutes with groupchat chaos.

| nate: bro let’s do sum. havent hung out in AGES

| jay: bro...we hung out 2 days ago

| nate: and?? ben said he’s down, his tank’s full

| ben: even jamie said he’d come, and he never comes out

| nate: CHRIS!!

| nate: ask yn :)

he stares at the last text for a second too long. not like you haven’t crossed his mind already.

you’ve been stuck in his head all week. and now it's friday and he’s antsy. bored. restless. craving something fun, something you.

he opens your text thread. fingers hover. then types,

| chris: what’s the move?

you respond in under a minute.

| n/n: julie’s house is empty

| n/n: like… all weekend empty...

his heart actually does a little thump at that.

| n/n: u could come through

| n/n: if u want

he sits up so fast the remote falls off the bed—

| chris: you want just me?

| n/n: up to u

| n/n: you could bring the guys. or not

| n/n: we could just chill, us

he's already off the bed, grabbing his keys.

julie’s house is big. stupid big. like chandelier-in-the-bathroom, driveway-bigger-than-a-court big.

you’re already there when chris shows up, nathan, ben, jay, and jaimie following. he wasn’t gonna bring anyone at first, but you said it was chill. and honestly? he was nervous coming by himself.

not nervous about you.

just nervous because of you.

you’re standing at the door when they pull up, hoodie half-zipped, drink in hand, socks long gone.

“damn,” chris says under his breath, admiring you. "what?” nathan asks, small smirk forming on his lips.

“nah, nothing.” (everything.)

the house fills up slowly.

not a real party, just that messy middle space between “hangout” and “we should probably clean up before someone’s mom comes home.”

music is playing. snacks are being scattered. kitchen lights warm and soft. chris finds you sitting on the counter, legs swinging, drink halfway done.

“you look like trouble,” he teases.

“you sound like my mom,” you shoot back, smirking.

he steps closer, leans his elbows on the counter next to your knee.

“so… is this a just you and me or a bring the whole crew kinda weekend?”

you shrug. “depends. are your friends gonna break anything?”

he laughs. “swear we won’t touch the fancy vases.”

you tilt your head. “you cook?”

he nods. “eggs. ramen. grilled cheese.”

you raise an eyebrow.

he grins. “i never said it was good cooking. just cooking.”

later, the music’s louder, the lights are lower, and your friends are mixing with his. there’s a game of uno going on in the living room, someone’s dancing barefoot in the kitchen, and nathan’s arguing with julie about who’s the better driver meanwhile neither of them have their license on them.

you’re curled up next to chris on the couch, legs tucked under you, one of his hands absentmindedly resting on your knee.

“i like your friends,” you say.

“told you,” he says. “we look dumb but we’re not that bad.”

you smile, leaning into him a little.

“you’re not dumb.” he turns his head to look at you.

like, really look at you. the room’s spinning with sound but you’re both locked in,

“you’re the reason i came,” he says.

your chest flutters, like the fizzy part of soda.

you try to play it cool. fail tremendously a little.

“i’m glad you did.”

“you still glad if i stay the whole weekend?”

“you cool with sleeping on the couch”

he grins, someone yelling, “JULIE’S DOG IS MISSING!!” but no one moves.

just you and him.

a big empty house.

the beginning of something, you think.

maybe not a party. maybe not chaos, just something real.

just you and chris.

a/n: you can tell this was rushed...im sorry, i was on my way to the er when i wrote this 😭😭 i'll prob release another version of this when life's calm down a bit

tags— @clairo4life @xsturnkay @h3arts4isa @mf-divaaa-08 @bugs-tags @moond0llie @izzylovesmatt @courta13 @twylas114 @sturniolos1uts

[izzylovesmatt]

RAT ☣︎

─── patient reader doesn't know who she is, where she is or how she got there. she's monitored 24/7 by scientist matt who knows much more then he'll tell her. how dedicated can matt stay to his cause when he falls in love with her?

("confidential" dividers by @bernardsbendystraws)

PREVIOUS // AU NAV // NAVIGATION // ALL AUS

CONTENT: patient readers memory is getting a little more consistent, but it isn't necessarily for the better. matt begins to struggle obeying his commands in his focus on patient readers happiness.

WARNINGS: human experiment, implied abuse, lack of privacy, surveillance, crying, fear of guards and authority figures, matt makes googoo eyes lol, nothing descriptive in terms of violence tho.

CHAPTER TWO

wc: 1.8k

“How are you feeling today?”

There was obvious tension in the room, your glare gave matt a twisted sense of pride. You'd wanted him to stay last session but he couldn't; you’d missed him. He shouldn't have felt happy with himself the way he did, but he had to hold back a grin regardless. 

“You want a score?” your passive aggressive shone through your words vividly. He nodded in response. “I still don't understand what I'm scoring.”

“Your mood, your memory. Everything overall.”

You watched the corner of his mouth twitch, gleeful with anticipation. The machine was whirring, working to full capacity unlike yesterday. His grip on his pen was slightly tighter, he was a little happier but much more tense. Was he nervous?

“Can I read your notes?”

“Can I have a score?”

You cocked your head a little to the side and let out a quick laugh. “Are you sassing me now?”

“I just asked a question.”

You lunged for the papers. ‘Patient code 004 version 65’ - last session. ‘Patient shows elevated signs of anger, confusion and memory loss. Persistent requests for personal information-’ He gripped it back off you. 

“I wasn't done reading.”

“I am aware.”

You fiddled with the cuffs, a little tighter today than you remember them being. It was probably your apparent heightened emotions that they took extra precautions. It sucked to be tied to a stupid table altogether, it felt demoralising. The whole thing did, and you still didn't understand a single thing that was happening. In contrast, matt stared at you expectantly, but it softened your guard just a little.

The idea of being some kind of special gave you a sick warm feeling, he found you interesting. He was curious. You wanted to feed into that. 

“Can I ask you questions?”

“You may but i can't guarantee the answers you desire.” he answered carefully and cautiously.

“Can you guarantee the truth?”

“I cannot.”

You bit your lip a little in thought before continuing. “Can you at least take these off me?” 

You pulled up your hands, the rattle of the handcuffs against the table’s metal bar sent matts attention to them, waiting for an answer in his ear piece as he scanned your eyes to figure out your aim. 

The door opened abruptly, a guard walked through hurriedly. He looked exhausted, irritated. You sat yourself on the edge of your chair as much as you could, with full fear and heavy breathing you feared the worst. You yelled at him to stop, that you weren't done with the session. You felt a different hand on your shoulder. 

“It's okay.” he whispered, standing over you.

You turned your head towards him, watching matt give you a small smile and watched as the guard headed towards the centre of the table. He set you free from the cuffs, leaving them discarded on the table but took the key back with him. You felt kind of pathetic, misreading the situation. Matts hand didn't move, he wouldn't until he was sure your emotions were stable. 

“Thought he was gonna take me.” you mumbled, sniffing and looking away from matt, almost zoning out as you looked to the corner of the room. 

“The session isn't over yet.”

“Well it wasn't last time as that didn't stop you.”

He moved his hand, leaving a colder feeling than you started with. He sat himself back down, across from you and staring. You mindlessly stared, your words felt harsh but they weren't untrue. 

“Do you dislike when the sessions end?”

Your mind brought you back to everytime a guard had walked into a room, the dragging and pushing into walls, the yelling. The way they threw you around. More aggressive than they would be with even a science rat. They treated you worse than an animal. Matts words were calming, sometimes irritable but there was still a lack of malice. He showed you different values than everyone else did.

You could only nod at him, the full extent of truth to the statement couldnt be expressed in a simple answer, especially when you'd just learnt that they were always listening in. 

Matt arose from his seat once again, a hint of anger in his eyes. He somewhat marched to the door and unlocked it. You had to turn in your seat to look towards him. 

“Come with me.” he gestured towards the hallway. 

“Am i in trouble?”

He shook his head. 

The corridor felt a little different now that you weren't as terrified. The creaks of the aging ceiling didn't help to maintain your calm. 

“The walls are blue.”

Realising he hadnt responded, you turned around to see him (once again) staring blankly and confused.

“You didn't know?”

“I don't really get time to appreciate the scenery when I'm being dragged.”

Matt hummed quietly, more to himself. “Where would you like to go?”

You whipped your head around quickly in shock. “I can pick?”

“You may.”

You peered down either side of the hallway, no obvious indicators on what led to where. You were still too confused to revel in the new opportunity. Weren't you supposed to be monitored? Isn't that exactly why the session had ended last time - because they weren't able to monitor you properly? You couldn't verbalise this confusion.

While it was doubtful he had forgotten they needed to have a record of the conversation, you weren't going to point out an error in case it once again would put a halt to the session. 

You stepped a little closer, using your tiptoes to reach and whisper into one of his ears that didnt have an earpiece, shielding your mouth as you did.

“Are they listening?”

He nodded.

“Where?” 

He opened the door to a room you could barely call a door with how it blended into the walls. By the look of everyone's faces, this had not been approved. The looks of horror, confusion and intimidation. For once you werent the one scared. 

“Introduce yourselves.” matt commanded the various workers.

There were computers, lots of headphones and obnoxiously large ear pieces that they'd begun taking out as the conversation it played was now right in front of them. You looked to the window on the left wall, showing the meeting room that you and matt had just been in. you knew they could hear but you didn't know they could see it all. The uneasiness settled in your stomach. 

Matt shot everyone a glare at their hesitancy, reaching to hold your hip gently and take initiative and introduce everyone to you himself. 

Doctor white had white hair, O'Conner had been aggressively typing out every word in the interaction, barely looking up from the screen as you were introduced to him. Anderson was the only woman, and clearly the eldest in the room. Jones stared too much for comfort, you leant into matt for comfort and he held you closer in acknowledgement. He sensed your overwhelm after the conversation, walking you back out of the room. 

He absent-mindedly shut it harshly, leaning down to stare directly at you.

“See? You don't have anything to worry about. We’re not robots or aliens, we aren't here to hurt you.”

You couldn't respond, overstimulation creeping in.

“We monitor you. You know what that means? We look out for you, yeah? We take care of you.”

You shook your head, mental images of all the pain flicking through your head.

“No you don't. You leave. That's what you do. You care as much as you have to and then you leave.”

He reached his hand towards your face in an attempt to caress and comfort but you smacked his hand away.

“It's like i dont matter when I'm not talking to you. I feel like-”

“A rat?”

You nodded, tears brimming your waterline. He reached his hand back to wipe your tears, this time you let him. 

“Do you want to see them?”

“See who?” you sniffed.

“The rats.”

They looked far more innocent, and much less free. Walking back and forth between their limited walls just as you had, until today. Pale white and very loud as they squeaked in harmony with each other. One of them peered up at you, as if it could read your mind and feel your emotions.

Matt reached towards its cage as he stood behind you, unlocking the hatch and pulling it out. You shifted to stand to the side of him. You watched him stroke the rat, it showed no fear or hatred, it wasn't afraid of him either. 

“Hold out your hand,” he instructed.

You followed his command, slightly shocked at the unfamiliar texture of its fur. 

“You've met this one before.”

“I have?” you didn't look away from the animal, entranced by its movements from the palm of your hands and up the length of your arm. 

“A long time ago. We did different types of sessions then.”

“What types are there?”

“That guy was involved in the sensory sessions. Various new objects each time to see how you responded and-”

“He's not an object.” your eyes squinted from his slight insult. Matt chuckled at your defensiveness. 

“You're right, I should have rephrased.” 

You nodded to acknowledge his apology.

“Would you like to keep him?”

You nodded profusely, finally a genuine wide grin on your face that matt reciprocated. 

“Our session does have to end-”

“No!” you halted, bringing the rat closer to you as if he had attempted to snatch it away. You stepped further away from him also.

“It has to-”

“No! This is exactly what i said! You leave me! Thats all you do!”

“Listen to me.” he put his hands out to his side in an attempt to ask for forgiveness. “It's not permanent. It's never permanent. If i always leave i always come back right?”

“You don't understand.” you choked a sob. “They hurt me, matt. When they take me away from you, they hurt me-”

“I understand. I know-”

You scoffed, staring with complete disgust.

“You know? You let them do it-”

“I'm not going to let it happen again.”

You tried desperately to blink away your tears before they fell. 

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Please dont lie to me-” you let out a harsh sob, reaching your free hand to your mouth in an attempt to hold back the noise. You fell to the floor, kneeling as you cried rivers. The rat was somehow unfazed, only looking up at you to see the source of the noise.

Eventually it crawled out your hands, walking slowly across the tile floors as you continued sobbing. Matt crouched down to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder and reach your arms behind his neck. He held you close, letting you sob against him as he tried to calm his anger at the events that had unfolded in his lack of constant surveillance. 

Once you settled down a little more, you rested gently against him. He retrieved the rat back and handed it to you, letting you continue admiring it while your final tears fell. 

“I'm not going to lie to you anymore. I truly promise you that.”

a/n this chapter was gonna be for the writing marathon and be "my strange addiction" but I needed more context so I wrote this first :3 the next chapter will be soon tho !! hope yall like this one :>

also PLEASE SEND ME UR THEORIESSSS

[izzylovesmatt]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ DREAM GIRL ₊˚˖𓍢ִ.

inspired by …. trouble by frank ocean

matt knew moving to L.A would not only came with opportunities but also a new lifestyle and new people, it was good, a new start for him and his brothers careers, one step closer to all they ever dreamed for, matt always dreamed with this and slowly all of the things he ever dreamed it started to made it’s way to him, money, fans, making his parents proud, having tours and eventually… the girl of his dreams too

you became really famous in your teenager years for your beauty, and just like any other person who chases to be famous, you moved to L.A, as soon as you did it the contracts were wild, one after another and each one bigger than the other one, the biggest moment was when you received the offer to be in Victoria’s Secret, the moment you touched that runway Hollywood made you “the it girl of the moment” pretty, famous, every boys and girls crush, friends with all the rest of the girls of the moment and known by everyone, and between all that people who had a crush on you matt was there too.

he was in love the moment he saw you on internet but he thought it was just a silly celebrity crush, an impossible love, right? Well all that changed in one party.

matt didn’t even wanted to go but nick and chris keep insisting, one party wasn’t gonna kill him.

after an hour of being at the party he was with some friends, the party was full of famous influencers and the world it’s small, one person knows other and that person knows another person who’s more famous, everything in L.A was a chain of celebrities.

he decided that maybe one drink would make him less anxious and would bring up the social skills, he approached the bar, ordered two shots and quickly drank them, he didn’t knew why but something in his brain was telling him that he was gonna need those shots later

he definitely needed them, some of his friends were joking and talking about who was at the party, his eyes started to look around the party, almost like if his eyes were magnets and were looking for the other part

and just like magic, his eyes found the other part, you.

he froze

his eyes sticked to you, the way you were just a couple of meters away from him as you were drinking and laughing with your friends, you were a hundred times prettier in person, it felt unreal, he never thought he would ever see you, less being this close to you, his hands started to get a bit sweaty, his breath hitched, his heart beating like he just ran a thousand miles.

you could feel the stare and started to search where it was coming from and quickly found it, matt, his look was literally a love look, you locked your eyes with his, you playfully waved as you smiled and a grin started to grew on matt’s face, you chuckle and look away to keep talking with your friends

matt couldn’t take his eyes off of you and his smile couldn’t fade away, you looked at him, and it felt like heaven, just one look at him, but it wasn’t enough, now he wanted more… he wanted everything

were you out of his league? probably yeah, he was just a YouTuber who luckily it’s good looking and you were a model, your whole job was looking like a dream, heavenly, like an angel, but right now he didn’t care what everyone will say, he’ll get comments like ‘she’s way out of your league’ or ‘you could never have her’ but did he care? absolutely no, he had to try at least, he’s been looking at you from afar, always through a phone or tv and now you’re here, in the same city, at the same place at him, it was his opportunity and he was not letting it go, he never had these romantic push to make him go crazy for someone, never was the chasing guy, but for you? it was totally worth it

and he was going to do everything he can to make you his, to have your heart, he was completely startstruck now.

♱note: I know it’s very very short😭! I just haven’t got time to write more buut I promise this upcoming week we’ll have more fuckgirl!reader and loser!matt ( maybe two? maybe one of them it’s smut?…hehe) this is kinda like an intro I guess btw

(english is not my first language)

🏷️: @izzylovesmatt @fadedstvrn @sorrybirds @viviansturns @sophand4n4 @whore4chris @matthewbernardswife

[izzylovesmatt]

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 - wc: 15k+

... shy!matt x reader—a love story told in all their first moments

cw: flirting, kissing, sub!matt, p in v, riding, squirting, humiliation, jealousy, angst, fluff, literally everything. its a love story!

day 1 - one year anniversary special masterlist

First Time Meeting

The library was almost empty.

It was late afternoon, the kind of time when the sun starts to filter in sideways through the windows and paint golden lines across the floor. Matt liked it then—quiet, still, safe. The way the shelves muffled everything, the way people whispered by default. He came here more than he liked to admit, always with a book or a sketchpad, always ending up in the same worn seat by the back window.

That’s where he saw you.

He noticed you before you noticed him. You were standing near the psychology shelf, one hand on your hip, head tilted like you were sizing up a row of books for a fight. He thought you were gorgeous— to put it lightly.

There was something about how still you were, how focused. Like you didn’t care who else was in the room. That alone made Matt’s stomach do something embarrassing.

He looked away. Then back again.

You pulled out a book, flipped it open, and sighed. It was almost imperceptible, but he heard it. And then, as if drawn by some invisible, stupid force, Matt stood up.

He didn’t plan on saying anything. He really didn’t. But somehow, he ended up a few feet away, pretending to look for something on the shelf beside you.

You glanced at him once, then twice.

“You need something?” you asked, not unkind, just direct.

Matt blinked, caught. “Oh—uh. No. I was just…”

He trailed off. What was he just?

You raised an eyebrow, book still half-open in your hand. “Just hovering weirdly near me?”

Matt’s face flushed instantly. “I—sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t—”

You smiled then, subtle but real. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh.” He blinked, shoulders tensing, then easing. “Right. Okay.”

You closed the book and tucked it under your arm, turning toward him a little more fully. “You hang out here a lot?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. Kind of my place, I guess.”

“Yeah? You seem like the library type?

That made him tilt his head. “What’s the library type?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Glasses? Button up shirts? Tote bags or some shit??”

He laughed, caught off guard. “I mean, I do have many tote bags. And glasses. And button up shirts.”

You nodded toward the sketchpad under his arm. “You draw?”

Matt looked down like he forgot he was holding it. “Oh—yeah. A bit.”

“Can I see?”

His eyes widened slightly. “Now?”

“No,” you said, mock serious. “In a couple days.”

He laughed nervously. “Right. Sorry.”

He flipped open the sketchpad without thinking, hands clumsy, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were. The pages showed a mix of quick studies—hands, faces, street scenes—done in pencil, loose and warm.

You looked for a moment, quiet.

“These are really good,” you said.

Matt blinked, startled. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No, like—actually. I don’t usually say things I don’t mean.”

“I—okay.” He tried not to grin like an idiot. “That’s... really nice of you. Um t-thank you.”

You glanced at him again, more carefully this time. “You always this twitchy, or is it just me?”

He flushed. “Just you, probably.”

You smiled again. “Cute.”

His ears turned red. “You, uh… you come here a lot?”

“Sometimes. When I want to think. Or avoid people.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s why I come too.”

You looked at him for a moment longer, like you were deciding something.

“I’m gonna go sit over there,” you said, motioning toward the window seat he always used. “You can come too, if you want.”

Matt hesitated just long enough for you to raise an eyebrow again.

“Unless you’re scared,” you added.

“I’m not scared,” he said quickly, stepping forward before his brain could stop him.

You gave a soft hum of approval and led the way. When you sat, you didn’t spread out or mark your space—just leaned back, casual, like you belonged there. Matt hovered for a beat too long before settling beside you, sketchpad in his lap, palms sweating.

“So,” you said after a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Matt.”

You repeated it under your breath, then nodded. “I’m y/n.”

Silence again. Not awkward—just expectant.

“I really wasn’t trying to be weird earlier,” Matt blurted.

You looked at him sideways. “You kinda were.”

“I know,” he groaned, covering his face.

You nudged his knee with yours. “But I didn’t mind.”

He peeked at you between his fingers. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, letting your smile grow slowly. “You’re cute when you panic.”

Matt didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He just looked at you—composed, unreadable, and yet totally disarming—and felt like someone had pulled the floor out from under him.

You nudged his knee again, gentler this time. “Cat got your tongue, sketchboy?”

He blinked like he’d just surfaced. “Sorry, I’m—this is just... a lot.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Me sitting near you is ‘a lot’?”

“No, it’s just—you’re really…” He trailed off, like the word had gotten stuck somewhere between his brain and mouth.

“I’m really…?” you prompted, leaning in slightly.

Matt swallowed. “Distracting.”

You grinned. “I’ll take it.”

He laughed under his breath, nervous again, thumb grazing the corner of his sketchpad like it was grounding him. “You make it hard to think.”

“That’s the goal,” you said casually, watching him squirm. “But if it helps, you’re doing okay.”

He tilted his head. “Okay?”

“Better than I expected.”

“Better than—wait, what were you expecting?”

You shrugged like it wasn’t important. “I don’t know. More stammering. More sweating.”

“Oh, I’m definitely sweating,” he muttered.

You smirked and leaned back against the window, eyes squinting at the slats of sunlight spilling across the floor. “You’re funny, though. Kind of sweet.”

Matt opened his mouth, then closed it again. “You’re just… saying that.”

“No,” you said, without looking at him. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

And that quiet between you returned—just long enough for the tension to shift from playful to something heavier. More real.

“I, um…” Matt started, then stopped, biting his lip.

You glanced over. “What?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking absolutely anywhere but at you. “I’ve got a lecture that I have to head to. Would it be super weird if I asked for your number?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him for a second too long. Then:

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you’re actually gonna use it.”

His head snapped up. “I—yes. I will. I mean, I want to.”

You pulled a pen from your tote and reached for his sketchpad. “Then I guess it’s not super weird.”

You scribbled your number in the corner, dotting the “i” in your name with a tiny star. Then handed it back like it was no big deal.

Matt looked down at it like it might vanish.

“Don’t overthink it,” you said as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Just text me.”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

You paused, gave him one last look. “Nice meeting you, Matt.”

And then you walked away, as calm and unreadable as when you’d arrived, leaving him blinking in the gold light, sketchpad in hand, heart doing things he didn’t know hearts could do.

First Texts

Matt: hey It’s me, matt, from the library?

You: Hey matt Whats up

Matt: so hypothetically if someone wanted to see you again in a setting that wasn’t just surrounded by dusty psychology books how would you feel about that?

You: i’d feel like that person should stop hiding behind hypotheticals and just ask me out

Matt: okay uh  d’you wanna go have a picnic? I know a quiet spot. Nothing fancy. Just food and you I guess.

You:  Food and me?? Sounds fun

Matt:  Good. I’ll bring snacks and a blanket. You just bring yourself.

You:  Deal. Saturday afternoon work?

Matt:  Yeah that works! I’ll pick you up.

First Date

The park was quiet, with just enough afternoon sun slipping through the trees to make the grass glow golden. Matt spread the blanket carefully, trying not to fumble too much with the snacks he’d brought. He’d overthought everything—the perfect spot, the right food— chocolate covered strawberries, all sorts of fruits and cheeses, and chips.

You plopped down right beside him, knees touching, grinning in surprise.

“Wow,” you said, eyeing his arrangement. “Look at you, all organized and stuff. I half expected you to show up with a bag of chips and maybe a soda.”

Matt’s cheeks flushed, a little overwhelmed by your energy. “Hey, I put some thought into this. Quality counts.”

You leaned in closer, voice low and teasing. “I like a guy who tries. Those fuckin’ nochalant guys piss me off.”

He swallowed hard, blinking, sort of unable to focus. He really liked your eyelashes. You did your makeup in the way that made them clumped together in triangles and spikey, framing your eyes. “I—yeah, thank you.”

“No, thank you.” You add, picking up a strawberry from the bowl. “You seem really sweet. Kinda random, but did you bring your sketchbook by any chance?”

Matt shifted, breaking out into a cute smile. “Yeah! I did, actually Why?.”

You laughed, the sound light and infectious. “You’re so excited!”

He smiled shyly, glancing down at the blanket like it was a lifeline. 

You dug into the basket again and pulled out the sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page. “Alright, Picasso, impress me.”

Matt’s eyes brightened, and he took the sketchbook, already grabbing a pencil from his bag. “Okay, but be warned—I’m better at drawing nature than people.”

You smirked, nudging him playfully. “Then you better start with me.”

He bit his lip, concentrating, pencil moving carefully. You watched him, fascinated by the furrow of his brow and the way his fingers trembled just a little.

“I-I don’t know if it’s going to be good.”

You reached out and brushed a stray hair from his face, smiling softly. “You’re doing just fine.”

Matt’s heart did a weird flip-flop thing. “You’re way too nice.”

“Nah, I just like making cute nerds blush.”

He coughed awkwardly, cheeks flaming. “I’m not blushing.”

“Sure you’re not.” You grinned, then changed the subject, “So, what’s next after strawberries? I’m expecting a grand tour of your snack stash.”

“Grand tour? Wow, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

You laughed again, flicking a crumb at him. “Flattery and flirting—my specialties.”

Matt tried to catch the crumb but missed, ending up with it on his shirt. You giggled, and he gave up, just grinning like a total dork, then going back to draw.

“You’re distracting,” he muttered, eyes flicking up to yours as his pencil moved in short, careful strokes.

“Am I?” you teased, voice lilting.

“Painfully,” he replied without looking up, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

You sat back a little, giving him space, watching the way his hand moved. He was quiet for a bit, just sketching, tongue peeking out in concentration.

Finally, he stopped, blowing gently across the page like it’d smudge if he even breathed wrong. “Okay, um. It’s not perfect, but…”

He turned the sketchbook around and showed you.

It was you—your hair a little messy from the breeze, lips parted like you were mid-laugh, sitting cross-legged with a strawberry in one hand. Soft lines, but so intentional. Warm. Kind of how he saw you.

Your teasing fell away for a second.

“Holy shit, Matt,” you said, actually stunned. “That’s… that’s really good.”

He looked like he was about to short-circuit. “You think so?”

You nodded slowly, eyes still on the drawing. “It’s not even about the lines or whatever—it just… feels like me. Like how I felt sitting here. That’s kinda magical, you know?”

Matt blinked, definitely blushing now.

You leaned in, elbow nudging his. “You’re kinda magical, Matt.”

He looked away, smiling so wide he couldn’t stop it. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out across the blanket as the sun dipped a little lower, turning everything hazy and golden. The strawberry stem still sat between your fingers, forgotten.

Matt was watching you like he didn’t mean to. Like every time he looked away, he had to check again to make sure you were still real.

You caught him. “You good?”

He blinked, startled. “What? Yeah—yeah, I’m just…”

“Mesmerized by my beauty?”

“I mean…” He trailed off, but you saw the grin creeping onto his face.

You laughed, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. “Relax, I’m just messing.”

“Kind of wish you weren’t,” he muttered under his breath, quiet but not quiet enough.

You stilled for half a second, then smiled—gentler this time. “I’m glad I came.”

He looked over at you again, blinking slowly, eyes all soft. “Me too.”

There was a pause—comfortable. The kind you don’t notice until it’s over.

Eventually, you helped him pack up, folding the blanket between you, hands brushing once, twice, until he finally just said, “Let me,” and took it from you, a little too careful, a little too flustered.

When you got to the path back toward the street, you slowed down. “Hey, Matt?”

He looked over, hair mussed from the breeze, sketchbook tucked under his arm.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Just barely, but definitely enough to make his ears go red.

“Thanks for today,” you said.

Matt blinked. “Uh. Yeah. No. Yeah—thank you. Too. I mean. You’re welcome. I mean—”

You grinned. “God, you’re cute.”

He laughed, finally letting out a breath. “I don’t know how you do that”

“Good,” you said, turning to go. “I don’t want you to.”

And with that, you walked off, glancing back once to see him still standing there, grinning like he couldn’t believe his life.

First Kiss

You’d been on a few dates by now—enough that Matt had stopped flinching every time your knee touched his under the table, but not enough that he’d figured out how to look at your mouth without going pink.

Tonight, it was a walk. No real plan. Just you, Matt, and the city lit up like it was showing off for you.

He kept sneaking glances. You kept pretending not to notice. Then purposely brushing your shoulder into his just to make him stumble over his words again.

“You know,” you said as you passed a quiet little streetlamp, “you’re starting to look at me like you wanna kiss me.”

Matt nearly tripped. “What—? I’m—No, I mean—yes? I mean—”

You stopped walking, turning toward him with a teasing smile. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite. Unless you’re into that.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I, uh. I do want to kiss you. Kinda a lot.”

A sold moment passed.

“Then do it.”

His eyes widened a little, like he wasn’t expecting you to just say it. He opened his mouth then closed it like a fish, unable to get words out.

But he stepped in anyway, one slow inch at a time. Close enough to see every little shimmer in your eyes. Close enough to get nervous again.

You reached up and tugged gently at the collar of his hoodie. “C’mon, Matt. You’ve drawn me twice. You can kiss me once.”

That made him laugh, nervous and breathless. His pretty eyes behind his glasses kept flicking between your eyes and your lips as you just watched him carefully.

Then he leaned in. It was soft. Careful. Like he was afraid you might vanish if he messed it up. But your hands found the sides of his face, grounding him, and when you kissed back—just a little firmer, a little more sure—he melted into it. 

His hands came to go around your waist as he tilted his head slightly to slot his lips perfecty against yours. His glasses make contact with your nose as he kisses you a bit harder.

When you pulled away, barely, his forehead bumped gently into yours.

“You okay?” you murmured.

“Yeah,” he said, dazed. “Just—processing. That was...wow.”

You grinned. “You’re cute when your brain short-circuits.”

“You’re cute,” he said, quickly, confidence boosting his ability to compliment you.

You laughed, threading your fingers through his. “True. But you’re especially cute when you’re flustered. Which, lucky for me, is always.”

Then without hesitation, put his hands around your face and kissed you again, this time without overthinking.

Progress.

First Sleepover

You were early. Not by much. Just thirty minutes. You had your reasons: the streetcar came fast, your outfit (which was just your pajamas) had come together better than expected, and… okay, maybe you just wanted to see him a little sooner.

What you didn’t expect was for Matt to answer the door shirtless and confused, hair wet and curling at the ends. He blinked at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, water still dripping down his collarbone. 

He clearly had meant to shave you had interrupted his frantic getting ready based on the slight scruff on his jawline— he usually had it cleanly shaved, and you couldn't help but love this look.

“…You’re early.”

You smiled like you hadn’t just swallowed a breath. “Yeah. Guess I missed you.”

Matt looked panicked. “I—I just got out of the shower.”

“I can see that,” you said, gaze shameless. “And you look very clean. Very damp. Very shirtless.”

He flushed to the tips of his ears. “Oh my God.”

You leaned against the doorframe, all teeth. “Should I wait out here while you compose yourself? Or do I get a pre-movie show?”

He made a strangled noise, yanked the door open wider, and turned away too fast. “Just come in—give me two seconds—Jesus—”

You giggled and stepped inside, not bothering to hide the way your eyes trailed after him as he disappeared down the hall.

By the time he reemerged, shirt clinging slightly from rushed dressing and curls still drying, you were perched on the couch with your legs tucked under you and the popcorn he had laid out in your lap. “Much better,” you said. “I mean, I prefer the previous look, but I’ll survive.”

“y/n,” Matt muttered, sitting down beside you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You bumped your shoulder into his. “Nah. Not yet.”

After a while when Matt had turned all the light on and gotten settled, the movie played. Sort of. You weren’t really watching it. Neither was he.

You commented too much. He laughed too easily. He kept glancing at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, and you definitely noticed.

At some point, his arm had somehow ended around your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything. It just stayed there, warm and loose between popcorn refills. Eventually, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. His breath caught.

“I really like this,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he said, even softer.

You turned your head slightly to look at him. Your faces were closer than you realized.

He didn’t move.

So you leaned in and kissed him—slow and easy, like you’d been waiting all week to do it again.

Matt made a soft sound, almost surprised, and kissed you back. It was warmer this time, a little more sure. In his mind, all he wanted to do was launch forwards and kiss you harder. You were just so captivating that it’s all he could think of, but he tried keeping self control, and pulled away.

He pulled away with a shaky breath, eyes fluttering open like he was waking from a dream. His lips were pink, his cheeks flushed, and you could feel the restraint vibrating off him.

You tilted your head, voice teasing. “What, that’s all I get?”

Matt laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I didn’t stop, I wasn’t gonna stop.”

Your brows lifted, amusement flickering in your smile. “Wow. Bold of you to assume I’d mind.”

He groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “Don’t say stuff like that. I’ll combust.”

You leaned on him, gently resting a hand on his leg that laid right beside yours. “You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

He looked up at you, still flushed, eyes dark with something and caught-off-guard. “You’ve mentioned,” he says sarcastically.

With a gasp of indignation, you gave a soft slap on the leg where your hand was resting. “Don’t you build up an attitude with me, Matthew.

He just opened his mouth then shut it, clearly not knowing how to feel about you saying his full name like that. He liked it, so he decided right then.

Before he could respond, you kissed him again—this one short, smiling against his mouth, before sitting back and curling into his side like nothing had happened.

Matt took a full sixty seconds to reboot. Then quietly—carefully—he draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in closer.

You didn’t say anything. You just rested your head back on him and let yourself melt.

After a couple moments, Matt shifted carefully, adjusting so he was lying down on the long couch. You moved with him, settling against his side, your body fitting naturally against his. The movie kept playing, the flickering light casting soft shadows across the room.

You blinked slowly, your breathing evening out as sleep started to claim you— you were a pretty early sleeper for people your age.

Matt’s eyes stayed on the screen for a moment, but his attention quietly drifted to you. The peaceful way your eyelashes fluttered, the slight rise and fall of your chest—it was like watching something fragile and beautiful.

When the movie’s credits began to roll, Matt reached out without a sound, grabbing the remote from the edge of the couch. His fingers hovered for a second, then he pressed the button to turn off the TV.

The room went dark except for the soft glow of streetlights outside.

Matt didn’t move, just held you a little tighter as you slipped fully into sleep, a small smile tugging at his lips.

First Time You Made it Official

The sun dipped just below the horizon, the sky swirling with peach and lavender as Matt pulled up outside your place. He jumped out of the car, already rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Ready?” he asked, flashing that awkward-but-sincere smile you were already hooked on.

You nodded, sliding into the passenger seat. The car smelled faintly of popcorn and something sweet — maybe.

Matt started driving, stealing glances at you from the corner of his eyes. “So, this is kind of a last-minute thing,” he muttered, voice a bit shaky. “I hope you don’t mind.”

You grinned, heart fluttering. “I love surprises.”

The city lights blurred past as you drove out of town, the orange glow of the sunset melting into the cool blues of twilight.

Finally, you reached a quiet hilltop overlooking the drive-in. Matt parked, and you both sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the engine.

“Okay,” he said, suddenly breaking the quiet, “close your eyes.�� 

You raised an eyebrow but obeyed, heart thudding in your chest. Slowly, you heard him walk around to your side of the passenger side of the car and open the door, holding both of your hands to guide you out, then eventually leading you around the car. You were grinning so hard it hurt. Then, he let go and you hear a little click and switch.

“Alright, open ‘em,” Matt whispered.

You blinked, and the trunk was wide open, spilling out a soft golden light from twinkling string lights Matt had strung up with obvious care. Cushions and blankets were arranged in a cozy nest, and a spread of snacks — popcorn, chocolate, fruit — sat invitingly in the center.

Right there, taped to the inside of the trunk lid, was a sign written in his handwriting:

“Can I be yours?”

Your breath hitched. You looked up at Matt, who was now practically glowing with nervous hope. 

“So…?” he said, voice cracking just a little.

You didn’t hesitate. You threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing your face into his neck.

Matt stumbled backward, laughter bubbling up as he caught you effortlessly.

“Matt!” you yelled with a squeal, leaning back and pressing a passionate kiss into his lips.

“Is that a yes,” he said, voice rough with emotion against your lips.

You pulled back just enough to smile, then leaned in once again, kissing him slow and soft, full of all the excitement and relief and warmth you’d both been holding back.

The world shrunk to just you two, the twinkle lights glowing softly, the sound of the movie starting in the background, and the feeling that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Matt. Of course.” 

First Time you Gave him a Nickname

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a stack of old vinyl records you’d pulled out from her collection. The soft crackle of the music filled the room.

You smiled and handed Matt one. “You always pick the best ones, baby.”

Matt froze. His face went bright red, and before he could stop himself, he covered his face with his hands.

“Wait... did you just call me… baby?” His voice was shaky and muffled.

You laughed, watching him squirm. “Yeah. So?”

He peeked through his fingers, cheeks burning hard. “I—uh—didn’t expect that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find words. “It’s… nice, I guess. Um. Um, sorry..”

You reached out and tucked a stray hair behind his ear, then leaned in and kissed him.

Matt’s eyes went wide. His heart was racing so fast he thought it’d jump out. He froze for a second, then kissed her back, shy and slow.

When they pulled away, his face was even redder.

“That was… really nice, baby,” he muttered, half embarrassed, half smiling.

You grinned. “See? You’re getting used to it.”

First Time You Cried in Front of him

You’d been at it for hours—highlighting, rewriting notes, flipping through textbooks—trying to force your brain to understand the material that just wouldn’t click. Your desk was a chaotic mess, pages strewn about like a storm had passed through. The clock ticked on, but all you felt was your chest tightening, breaths growing shorter, and the walls closing in.

Matt was lying on your bed nearby, earbuds in, half-asleep, his music washing over him like a soft wace. But then, even without hearing you, he noticed the subtle change—the way your fingers trembled, the catch in your breath.

Involuntarily, you gasped your vision swimming. Panic swelled fast and fierce. You couldn’t do it. You were going to fail your midterms. You couldn’t do it.

Matt was up instantly, heart pounding. He yanked the earbuds out, voice gentle but urgent. “Hey, hey, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

You couldn’t answer. You were drowning in your own panic, breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Matt closed the distance, taking your shaking hands in his. “Okay. We’re gonna slow this down. Just breathe with me. In—hold it—out. Again.”

You tried, but your lungs felt tight, like air was slipping away.

Without hesitation, he guided you away from the desk. “Come sit with me. You’re not alone.”

You let yourself be pulled onto the bed, curling into him as he wrapped his arms around your trembling frame. His chest was steady beneath your head, his heartbeat a quiet anchor against your chaos.

“I’m right here,” he whispered, voice low and soft. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

The warmth of his touch, the calm in his voice—it started to pull you back, like a lifeline.

You felt yourself start to relax, breaths becoming deeper, less frantic.

Matt’s fingers traced slow circles on your back. “You’re okay. You’re so brave for even letting me see this.”

You pressed your face against his shirt, embarrassed but too exhausted to care. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like this. I’m just... so tired. And I don’t get it. I’ve been trying so hard. I feel like fucking shit, Matt.”

Matt kissed the top of your head. “You don’t have to explain. I’m not going anywhere.”

He tightened his hold, voice thick with care. “I hate that you’re hurting. But I’m proud of you for pushing through.”

A shaky breath escaped you, comfort blooming in the quiet room. “Thank you... for being here.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that makes your chest ache in the best way. “Always. Now, how about we put those books away for tonight? I’ll even let you pick the movie. Something dumb, something that makes us laugh.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling a flicker of light through the panic haze. “Yeah... I’d like that.”

Matt brushed a stray tear from your cheek and whispered, “You’re the strongest person I know, y/n, don’t you forget it. And with that, he planted a firm kiss on your lips.

First I love you

It was a lazy Sunday. You were sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, eating fruit straight from the container while he lay next to you on his stomach, sketchbook open in front of him. The soft hum of music drifted from his speaker, blending with the late afternoon light that poured in through his window.

You popped a grape into your mouth and looked over at what he was drawing. “Is that supposed to be me?” you teased, leaning closer. “Why are my eyes so big?”

Matt huffed. “They’re not big, they’re expressive. It’s artistic exaggeration.”

“You just called me cartoonish.”

He glanced up, grinning. “Well, you’re my favorite cartoon character. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you echoed, smirking.

He returned to his sketching, but you saw the smile that lingered at the corner of his mouth. You stretched out beside him, stealing one of his pencils just to annoy him. He didn’t stop you.

You were halfway doodling nonsense in the margin of his page when he muttered, casually and without looking up, “God, I love you.”

You froze.

So did he.

He blinked. Then his pencil dropped. And slowly, like his brain was catching up with his mouth, he turned to look at you. His eyes were wide.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, already flushing pink. “Wait. I didn’t— I mean, I didn’t mean it like—well I did but—” He sat up too fast and knocked the sketchbook off the bed. “I wasn’t gonna say it like that, not now, I—ugh—”

“Matt,” you said softly.

He ran a hand through his hair, now fully red in the face. “I was gonna wait for, like, a perfect moment. Maybe flowers? Or a sunset? Not while you’re bullying me over eyeballs—”

“Matt.”

He peeked at you through his fingers. “Yeah?”

You reached for him and held his face gently. “I love you too.”

He blinked again. “Wait... seriously?”

You nodded, smile growing. “Seriously.”

His whole body relaxed like he’d just exhaled a week’s worth of breath. “Oh thank god,” he said, then added in a rush, “I mean—not that I was worried. I mean, I was. But like—” He paused. “You love me?”

“I do.”

He grinned, giddy and dazed. “Sick.”

You laughed. “That’s your response?”

He shrugged, all flustered and glowing. “I panicked. But I’m really happy.”

Then he kissed you — not clumsy or rushed, but slow and sweet, like he finally knew where he stood.

And where he stood was exactly where he wanted to be.

First Makeout Sesh

It started like any other night. You were sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, half-watching a movie while your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your hoodie—his hoodie that you’d stolen weeks ago. He was beside you, leaning against the headboard, looking very boyfriend-coded in a black tank top and sweats, hair still slightly messy from earlier. 

His glasses were set to the side of his dresser, and he had that slight stubble that you just loved.

You weren’t really paying attention to the movie. Not when he kept tracing soft patterns on the side of your waist, not when he looked over and smiled like that—all shy and soft and so obviously in love.

At some point, you climbed into his lap.

It wasn’t planned. You were just tired, or at least that was your excuse. He blinked up at you, wide-eyed, his hands hovering near your waist like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch.

“You okay?” he asked, voice a little breathier than usual.

You leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “More than okay.”

And then you kissed him.

It started soft, familiar. You’d kissed before—quick, sweet pecks, slow moments on quiet afternoons. But this one deepened fast. You tilted your head, one hand sliding into his hair, and Matt made the softest sound—half gasp, half sigh—against your mouth.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it.

His hands settled on your hips, tentative at first. You shifted a little, straddling him properly, and his breath hitched hard.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me,” he mumbled against your lips, cheeks flushed pink.

You smiled. “You like it.”

His eyes fluttered shut when you kissed down the side of his jaw, your lips grazing the edge of his throat. His hands gripped you tighter, like he needed to hold on to something.

“God,” he whispered, “you’re unreal.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his lips were red and kiss-bruised, hair all messed up from your fingers. He looked completely dazed.

You let your fingers trace the line of his collarbone, just barely under the tank top strap, and he whimpered.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice cracking with pure embarrassment. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“—you’re so cute when you’re desperate,” you interrupt, brushing your nose against his again.

Matt looked humiliated and so turned on. “That’s so unfair.”

But he didn’t stop kissing you. Didn’t stop pulling you closer, as you both held onto each other and made out in a rhythm.

“y/n…” he said, voice a little wrecked already.

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

“I—um.” His hands flexed on your hips again, eyes darting down to where your bodies pressed together. “You should probably stop,” he mutters with embarrassment. 

You smile and begin placing kisses down his neck. “Why?”

“B-because,” he tries to say, until you fully sit down onto his lap, making contact with his bulge. He groans, totally forgetting what he was trying to bring up.

“Fuck— this feels like a dream.”

You smirked. “Do your dreams usually include me grinding on you?”

Matt choked. Literally choked on air.

“Jesus Christ—” He threw his head back against the headboard, face flaming. “You’re evil.”

But he didn’t stop you when you rolled your hips, just barely.

He whimpered. A real, honest-to-God whimper. And it made you grin so wide you had to hide it against his neck.

“Y-you can’t just do that,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Why not?” you murmured, kissing just below his ear. “You like it.”

His hands slid up your back now, hesitant but eager. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

“Good.”

You kissed him again—hotter, more open-mouthed. This time he gave in completely. He let you take control, lips parting under yours, breath stuttering as your tongues brushed. His hands were gripping the hem of your hoodie like he was afraid he might float away if he let go.

You pulled back just long enough to tug the hoodie off. Matt’s eyes widened like he’d just short-circuited.

“You’re so—” he started, then stopped, then swallowed. “I don’t even have words.”

You leaned back in, resting your forehead against his. “You don’t have to talk, baby. Just feel.”

That got a sound out of him that went straight to your stomach. He kissed you again, this time with urgency, with need. His hips shifted under yours involuntarily, and you both gasped at the friction.

You dragged your nails gently up his arms, feeling the tension there. “Tell me what you want,” you whispered.

Matt shook his head, dizzy. “I don’t—I.”

Then you heard a knock at the door.

Matt froze.

You both stared at each other, breath caught, hearts hammering. Another knock. Louder.

“Bro!” a voice called. “Open up—we brought snacks!”

Matt groaned like it physically hurt. He flopped back against the headboard, arms thrown over his eyes in pure agony. “No. No, no, no. I forgot Chris and Nick were coming.”

You laughed—quiet and breathless—as he muttered a string of hushed curses.

“They’re literally the worst,” he whispered, like he was being hunted. “Fuck m’sorry.”

You leaned down, still straddling him, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

He whined. You loved it.

The knock came again, followed by a chorus of his brothers’ voices arguing about who was supposed to text ahead. Matt looked at you with the most tragic expression. 

“Another day, baby,” you add. With a groan he tries to subtly tuck himself into the waistband of his sweatpants without you seeing, then begins trudging downstairs to open the door.

First Fight

It started with something small. 

Matt had been quiet all night. You’d asked if everything was okay once, twice—he just nodded and said he was tired. But when you made a joke at dinner, one you’d made a hundred times before, he barely reacted. And when he did, it was sharp.

“God, do you always have to say stuff like that?”

You blinked. “What?”

He sighed. “Just forget it.”

“No,” you said. “Say what you mean. You’ve been weird all night.”

“Maybe I’m tired of always feeling like a joke to you.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Matt, what the hell are you talking about?”

He rubbed his eyes, clearly frustrated. “You tease me all the time, y/n. And I usually don’t care. But lately it just—it feels like you don’t take me seriously. Like I’m just some soft guy who can’t handle anything.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s not true. I—I tease you because I like you. You know that.”

“I thought I did,” he said quietly.

Silence stretched. You felt it like a pressure in your ribs, heavy and awful.

“N-no, no baby,” you whisper, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” you said, voice smaller now. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Because I didn’t want to seem pathetic,” he mumbled.

That cracked something open in you. “You’re not pathetic, Matt. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

He wouldn’t look at you. Just sat there, hands clenched in his lap, trying not to crumble.

You crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “I’m sorry. If I made you feel like you’re not enough—God, I’m so sorry.”

His eyes finally met yours. “I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like… not just the flirty version. The me version.”

“You matter,” you said, pressing your hand to his chest. “This version. All of it. I see you, Matt.”

His face crumpled, just a little. And then you were hugging, both of you holding on too tightly, too long, like the space between your bodies had been unbearable.

“I’m sorry Matt,” you whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I swear I will.”

After a long time of you laying in his arms, he says into your hair. “I forgive you, baby.”

First time you cared for him while he was sick

Matt did not look good.

The second you opened the door to his apartment—code he’d barely managed to text you—you found him lying sideways on the bathroom floor, half-conscious, sweaty, and pale like a ghost with heatstroke.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, rushing to kneel beside him. “Matt?”

He groaned in response, one hand feebly waving in the direction of the toilet. “I threw up. A lot. I think I’m dying.”

You ignored the dramatics and brushed his damp hair back. He was burning up, forehead hot under your fingers, skin clammy and gross in a way that made your heart squeeze with worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?”

He mumbled something unintelligible and dramatically buried his face in your lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

“You’re literally on the bathroom floor,” you said. “I want to be bothered for that.”

You helped him up slowly, got him into a clean shirt, and tucked him onto the couch with a cold compress and a puke bucket beside him. The whole time, he just let you do it, too weak to argue, blinking up at you like you were a hallucination sent by some benevolent god.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand as you went to get him water.

“I’m getting you electrolytes, drama queen,” you whispered, kissing the back of his hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You set up camp with him after that—cool cloth on his forehead, hand in his hair, rubbing his back every time he groaned or whimpered. He kept mumbling delirious things like "You're so nice to me" and "I feel gross and you still look at me like that?"

At one point, as you were carefully helping him drink tiny sips of water, he whispered hoarsely, “If I die, tell my brothers I love them, but tell you… you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You snorted. “Shut up and sip. You’re not dying. You just had gas station sushi.”

He groaned into the pillow. “I’m never eating fish again.”

You kissed his clammy temple anyway. “You’ve got the immune system of a Victorian child. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

He sighed deeply, miserable but comforted, and whispered something like “Love you” before passing out halfway through. You stopped for a second, looking at his flushed, peaceful face, and tucked the blanket higher on his shoulders.

“Love you too, dummy,” you whispered. “Even when you’re disgusting.”

You stayed the whole night, checking up on him every hour and replacing his cold compress. Just in case.

First Time

It started with a kiss.

Not the rushed kind, or the one pulled between jokes and giggles—this one was different. Slower. Hungrier.

You’d been curled up beside Matt on his bed, talking about nothing. His glasses had slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, his curls soft from running his fingers through them all evening. You leaned over to fix them, and his eyes flicked to your lips instead.

“Can I…?”

You nodded before he finished, and the kiss melted into something deeper. Something needier.

His hands trembled a little when they found your waist. Yours weren’t much steadier.

You pulled away, forehead resting against his, eyes searching his face. “We don’t have to,” you whispered. “But I kind of… want to. With you.”

Matt's eyes went wide—so wide you half-thought he’d forgotten how to blink.

“I—I want to too,” he said, voice shaking, cheeks already flushed. “I’ve just never—well, I mean I have, but not like… not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… with someone I actually care about. Who makes me feel like I’m not gonna mess everything up.”

You leaned in and kissed him again—gently this time. “You’re not messing anything up.”

His breath caught when you shifted, pressing closer.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded too fast, then stuttered, “Yeah—I mean, yes. I just—can’t—um, function when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” you asked, already smiling.

He covered his face with his hands, groaning. “Hot. Okay? You’re so fucking hot. This is unfair.”

You giggled, reaching to tug his hands away. “Then I’ll go slow.”

And you did.

You kissed along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone—feeling the way he trembled beneath you. Every time your lips brushed his skin, a soft, surprised sound escaped him, like he couldn’t believe it was real.

You let your fingertips trail down his chest, pausing just above his waistband.

Matt looked like he might self-destruct.

“Still okay?” you asked.

He nodded, biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.”

You kissed him again. “I won’t.”

Then you eased your shirt over your head.

He made a strangled noise and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then opened them again—like he was bracing himself for a heart attack and couldn't not look at you.

“You’re literally glowing,” he whispered. “How are you real?”

You took his hands and pressed them to your bare waist, guiding him.

He stared, completely flushed, completely in awe.

You straddled his lap slowly, carefully, watching the way his breath hitched as your bare skin met his. He was already half-hard in his boxers, twitchy with nerves, eyes flickering everywhere—your eyes, your chest, your lips, back to your eyes like he was overwhelmed but desperate to see everything.

“You okay?” you asked, brushing a hand through his hair.

He nodded, breathless. “Y-yeah. Just… you’re on top of me. And you’re, um. Naked.”

You leaned in, nipping his jaw. “And you like it?”

His laugh was breathy, nervous. “I love it. It’s just—my brain isn’t working. You’re so pretty. I don’t know where to put my hands.”

You took his wrists gently, guiding one to your hips and one over your breast. “Here’s a good place to start.”

He groaned, head tipping back against the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You kissed down his neck, lingering just below his ear. “You’ll survive.”

Your fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers, giving him a moment. He nodded again—flushed, trembling, but sure. You helped him out of them, and when he was finally bare beneath you, he looked like he might actually pass out.

You paused just to look at him—legs spread slightly, cheeks red, chest rising fast. You let your fingers trail down his stomach, feather-light.

“You're beautiful like this, Matt.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, like he couldn’t handle hearing it. “You make me feel like I am.”

You leaned in again, kissing him slow. “I want you to feel good. You ready?”

He nodded again, a little more desperate this time. “Please. Just… tell me what to do.”

You reached for the lube and condom you'd stashed earlier, heart thudding at the way his thighs tensed under your touch. Once everything was ready, you settled over him, guiding him to your entrance.

“Go slow?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Always,” you whispered.

And when you sank down onto him, inch by inch, his hands gripped your hips like they were the only things keeping him tethered to the earth. He let out the softest, most broken moan you'd ever heard—like pleasure punched the air right out of him.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “y/n, I—holy shit, you feel so good.”

You gave him a moment to adjust, and when he opened his eyes—dazed, overwhelmed, reverent—you started to move.

“Y’so warm,” he gasped “n’tight, oh fuck.”

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rough. It was messy, breathy, and achingly sweet. His hands roamed your waist like he didn’t know what to hold onto. He whined every time your hips rolled just right, whispered your name like a prayer, told you over and over how good it felt.

“I don’t wanna come yet,” he whimpered. “I wanna stay inside you forever.”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ve got forever.”

And when he finally did come—loud, gasping, eyes wide and pupils blown—you leaned down and kissed him through it, riding him slowly, comforting, grounding him as he trembled beneath you, whimpering into your ear.

After, his hands curled around yours like a lifeline.

“You okay?” you asked softly, brushing sweat-damp curls from his forehead.

He was still catching his breath, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could feel it. The little twitch of his hips. The subtle way his fingers dragged up your back. The soft, broken whisper of your name.

You pulled back to look at him. His face was flushed, hair curling damply around his ears, pupils still wide and glassy.

“You okay?” you asked again, gentle.

He nodded, but his voice came out hoarse. “Y-Yeah. I’m just… I still want you. Like, really bad. Is that normal?”

You smiled, brushing his lips with yours. “Hmmm. Maybe.”

Matt blinked up at you. “We can keep going, right? I-I know I came already but—” His voice cracked, and he squirmed under you, breath hitching as his soft cock twitched against your thigh. “You’re still hard,” you said softly.

He covered his face with both hands. “I know, I don’t even—like—how?? Fuck you’re ruining me.”

You gently pulled his hands away. “In a good way?”

“In the best way,” he mumbled. “Please keep going.”

And you did.

You kissed your way down his chest, making him squirm and gasp, mouth trailing over sensitive skin and leaving flushed marks behind. 

When you took him into your mouth—half-hard, still twitching—he let out the most pathetic sound you'd ever heard.

“F-fuck, you don’t have to—oh my god—”

But you wanted to. And the way he bucked slightly, trying not to, hands twisting the sheets like he was afraid to touch you, made you feral.

You pulled back a bit, letting it pop out of your mouth to speak. “Matt, you’re allowed to be greedy.”

“I’m not! I swear, I just—” He whimpered again as your tongue dragged over the head. “God, I am greedy. I don’t care. I want you so bad it hurts.”

When he got hard again, fully and shamelessly, you moved slowly, sliding back on top of him, watching his face as you sank down again. This time he cried out, high and breathy, thighs trembling under your hands.

“It’s so fucking much,” he panted. “It’s—it’s too much—but don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

You rocked your hips, slower this time, just enough to make him arch into you.

“Tell me what you need.”

“You,” he gasped. “Just you. All of you.”

So you gave it to him.

You took your time, moving against him with slow, grinding rolls. His eyes fluttered, and he gripped your hips like he was trying not to float away.

He got vocal—filthy in a way that surprised even him. Whimpers, moans, broken phrases between gasps:

“Y-you feel so good inside, holy shit—” “I can’t believe this is real—” “Please, I’m gonna—gonna come again—”

And when he did, he almost cried.

His body tensed, shuddering, then collapsed into you, face buried against your chest, mumbling soft things you couldn’t quite make out. You held him through it, kissing his forehead as he shook in your arms, your own pleasure humming hot under your skin.

You were just on the brink as well, but you could tell he needed a break.

“I wanna make you feel good too,” he whispered.  “Lie back. Please. Let me try.”

You blinked. “You just came twice. You need to rest. ”

“I know,” he whispered. “But I didn’t even get to touch you properly. And I—I think I’ll explode if I don’t.”

You smiled softly. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut in. “You made me feel like my whole body was on fire and full of stars at the same time. I want to do that for you. Or at least try.”

Well. How could you say no to that?

You laid back slowly, watching him move between your legs—awkwardly at first, like he wasn’t sure where to put his knees. His cheeks turned scarlet when he got a full view of you, mouth parting in a silent “oh my god.”

You reached for his hair, tugging lightly. “Breathe, baby.”

“I a-am,” he said, sounding like he absolutely was not. “You’re just—you’re so—how am I supposed to—” His sentence died as he kissed your thigh, soft and reverent. “Tell me what to do.”

You guided him at first. Where to put his mouth. How to use his tongue. What kind of pressure felt good. And oh, Matt was a quick study.

Tentative at first—gentle, nervous licks, like he was afraid to go too far. But once you let out that first real moan, he got brave. Gripped your hips tighter. Groaned into you when you said his name. Got messier. Needier.

“Right there?” he gasped when your back arched. “Like that?”

You nodded breathlessly, thighs trembling around his head.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You taste so good. Why didn’t anyone tell me this would be like—like this?”

He buried his face in you after that, moaning softly, like he was the one getting off. His entire face was trying to push further and further into your sopping pussy, licking up every juice you were letting out.

His nose nudged just right, his tongue flicked faster, and when you clenched his hair and gasped out his name

He groaned loudly.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, hot and overwhelming, and Matt just held on, staying there through every aftershock, every twitch, like he refused to come up until he was sure you were completely undone.

When he finally pulled back, his face was soaked down to his chin, lips kiss-swollen, and his smile was dazed and proud.

“I did okay?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You reached down, “M-matt, that was,” dragging him up to kiss you. “Insane.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a muffled, exhausted, “Best. Day. Ever.”

First time you got jealous

It started off fine.

You and Matt had come to a small get-together at a friend’s apartment—just a cozy group of people, some music, snacks, and low lighting. At first, you were curled up next to him on the couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder, the two of you in your own little bubble.

And then she showed up.

You didn’t know her name. You didn’t want to know her name. All you knew was that she laughed a little too hard at Matt’s joke’s, and she touched his arm a little too long when she complimented his hair.

Matt didn’t even notice. He was just being his usual charming self—smiley and sweet, answering her questions like she wasn’t clearly flirting with him while you sat literally two inches away.

You excused yourself to get a drink. More for emotional support than hydration.

When you came back, she was still there, still giggling, and Matt—Matt was smiling— AND blushing, and it was the smile he gave you when you made him laugh.

You plopped down next to him and not-so-subtly rested your hand on his thigh. Matt glanced down and smiled at you, oblivious.

“Hey, you good?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

“I’m great,” you replied, a little too cheerily. Then you turned to the Flirt and said, “Do you need something, or were you just raised to hover?”

Matt choked.

The girl blinked, gave you a weird look, then mumbled something about checking on a friend and walked away. You watched her go like you were manifesting a trapdoor beneath her.

Matt blinked at you, wide-eyed. “Babe…”

You turned to him. “What?”

“She was just being friendly.”

You scoffed. “Friendly? Matt, she was one compliment away from climbing into your lap.”

Matt blinked a few times, still recovering from your snark. “I really think you’re overreacting. She wasn’t flirting.”

You stared at him. “Matt. She touched your arm three times. I counted.”

“She was just... touchy,” he said, weakly. “Some people are just like that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you blushed.”

Matt flushed even more. “I didn’t blush.”

“You so blushed. It was your flustered blush too, not the ‘it’s hot in here’ blush. The one that means you’re shy and you liked the attention.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated.  “No-But I wasn’t trying to like it—”

“Oh my God,” you said, pulling your hand from his thigh and crossing your arms. “You did like it.”

Matt looked stricken. “No! That’s not what I—babe, no. I didn’t like her, I liked—it’s just—you weren’t there and someone was being nice and it caught me off guard, and it didn’t mean anything, I swear.”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared straight ahead, jaw tight.

Matt groaned and scooted closer. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.” When you didn’t, he gently cupped your jaw and turned your face toward his. His expression was soft, earnest. “I swear, I didn’t even realize it until you pointed it out. And if it made you feel even a little bit bad, I’m sorry. I would never want you to think anyone could even come close to you. I’m yours. Fully.”

You tried not to melt. Failed.

“…You liked the attention a little bit,” you muttered.

“I swear I didn’t. But like your jealousy? Way hotter. Honestly, if you’d actually fought her I would’ve passed out.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned in anyway, bumping your nose against his. “Next time someone flirts with you, I’m not warning her. I’m swinging.”

Matt grinned, brushing a kiss to your lips. “Got it. I’ll start wearing a “I have a girlfriend” shirt to social events.”

“You think I won’t get you one?”

He kissed you again, and this time, there was no one else in the room. Just him, you, and the quiet satisfaction of winning.

First time he made you squirt

You were tangled up in your sheets again, the low hum of your fan spinning overhead, the room dim with only the lazy spill of golden-hour light pushing through the curtains. Matt’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes darting from your collarbone to your lips, then away again, like the sight of you was too much all at once.

“You’re looking at me weird,” you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Matt flushed. Flushed. That deep pink that crawled from his ears to his cheeks, like you’d caught him doing something scandalous. He groaned softly and buried his face in your neck.

“I’m not,” he mumbled into your skin. “You just—look really pretty right now.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair.

“Right now?” you echoed, grinning. “Not, like, always?”

He whined, lifting his head just enough to glance at you. “Stop. You know what I mean.” He was smiling, but his voice had that hushed, almost whimpery quality it got when he was overwhelmed. You loved it. Loved the way his hands were already slipping up under your shirt like he was asking permission without saying a word.

Matt made a small, needy sound and melted against you, his fingers still trembling just slightly as they traced along your ribs, then lower. When you pulled back to look at him, his pupils were wide, his lips parted.

You were already bare-chested, sitting up and straddling Matt’s lap, but he still looked overwhelmed.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, smiling against his jaw.

“I’m not—” His voice cracked as you shifted against him. “Okay, yeah. Maybe.”

Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging gently. “You nervous?”

You smirked. “Good.”

Eventually, you flipped them over, guiding him to kneel behind you as you braced on your elbows. You heard his breath hitch when he got the full view. He wasn’t touching you yet—just looking, frozen like you were art he was scared to ruin.

“You can touch,” you teased, voice low and warm.

That broke the spell. Matt’s hands slid over your hips, tentative at first, thumbs brushing the dip of your lower back. You could feel him trembling again, but it didn’t stop him from leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your spine.

Then another. And another.

His fingers trailed lower, between your thighs, and you let out a quiet gasp as he explored with slow, shallow strokes.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Feels good. Keep going.”

Matt obeyed instantly, licking his lips like he was trying to stay focused. You could hear his ragged breathing as he slid his fingers inside you—so careful, so hesitant. And when he felt you clench around him, he made the softest sound: “Oh my god…”

His fingers started to curl, slow and searching. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing—he just knew he wanted you to fall apart. That he loved hearing your breath catch, loved the way your thighs trembled the more pressure he added.

He plunged his fingers in and out, leaning down to place his lips around your clit and swirl his tongue around.

You gasped at the contact.

Matt froze. “Was that okay?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—just—don’t stop—”

He didn’t even think. He kept that same pressure, same rhythm, his other hand anchoring tight on your hip as you pushed back into his touch. He was panting now too, overwhelmed, lips parted like he was barely holding it together.

“Matt,” you choked out, “you’re—holy shit—don’t stop—”

It hit fast. A wave crashing through you, intense and blinding. Your body tensed—and then gushed.

Matt jolted as wetness sprayed onto his wrist and thigh. His mouth dropped open.

“What the—” He stared at his soaked fingers. “Did I—?”

You collapsed forward, breathing hard, too stunned to even speak. You’d never—ever—done that before.

Matt sat back on his heels, still blinking like he was in shock. His boxers were damp now. His arm was soaked. He looked wrecked.

“…Did I make you… squirt?” he whispered.

You huffed out a breathless laugh. “O-oh my god.”

He looked down at you like he’d just unlocked a cheat code. Still blushing. Still dazed. And maybe—just a little—proud.

“…That was insane,” he mumbled.

You could only nod, hips still twitching from aftershocks.

Almost hesitantly, he leans forwards and licks you, slurping up the juices.

Matt reached out, brushing his fingertips along your spine. “Can I… still be inside you?”

You turned your head, eyes heavy. “You better be.”

First Anniversary

You hear a soft knock before dawn, and when you open the door, Matt’s there— holding a small, slightly wild bouquet of flowers. They’re not fancy, but perfect. “Happy anniversary,” he says, cheeks pink, eyes bright but shy.

You smile, heart already doing that stupid flutter thing. “You’re early.”

He shrugs, grinning like he’s won something. “I wanted to surprise you. Today’s all planned. No backing out.”

You grab his hand, feeling the warmth that’s not just from the flowers. With a quick motion, he sweeped you around dramatically, kissing you while you leaned back all the way.

You let out a surprised giggle, then put your hands on either side of his face.

“I love you, baby,” you whisper.

His face turns pink and crinkles with joy. “I love you more.”

_______

He lets you change out of pajamas while he waits in the kitchen, and when you come out, he’s set up a little breakfast picnic on the floor: toast, strawberries, whipped cream, and a small thermos of your favorite drink. There’s even a playlist softly playing in the background—he made it himself, and it’s all songs that remind him of you.

You raise a brow. “You made this whole playlist?”

He flushes. “It’s kind of embarrassing. One of them has your name in the lyrics.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He actually smiles a little when you do that, then tries to play it cool and offers you a strawberry like that will make him less flustered.

After breakfast, he hands you a tiny envelope.

“Open it when I tell you,” he says mysteriously. “No peeking.”

Then he leads you outside, clearly trying to hide how excited he is. You walk to a small park you used to visit all the time when you first got together. There, under your favorite tree, is a little setup: two foldable lawn chairs, a sketchbook, and a small box of supplies.

“I thought… maybe we could draw each other.”

You waggle your eyebrows and grin. “Like one of your French girls?”

“No—!” His face flushes. “I—I mean if you want? I—!”

“I’m messing with you, Matt.” You’re laughing as you sit across from him, and the two of you draw, occasionally glancing up at each other and bursting into giggles.

Lunch is homemade—by him. He packed it himself: sandwiches with little hearts cut into the bread (yes really), a tiny note tucked under the tupperware that says “ur hot and I love you :)”

You keep the note.

In the afternoon, he takes you to a local art exhibit—something quiet and beautiful. You walk through slowly, sometimes holding hands, sometimes just letting your pinkies brush. He leans in close during one painting and whispers, “That one reminds me of the way you look when you’re sleepy.”

You turn to find him already looking at you.

“I’m so glad I met you.” you whisper.

He ducks his head with a smile. “Me too. You have no idea.”

As the sun starts to set, he finally lets you open the envelope.

Inside is a small card and a single pressed flower from the first bouquet he ever gave you.

On the back is a list: “Reasons I’ve loved you every day this year.” There’s 365 of them.

“I was gonna just write one,” he says, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “But then… I couldn’t stop.”

You fling your arms around him and don’t let go for a while.

That night, he cuddles you in bed, forehead pressed to yours, still pink when you say he’s the sweetest boy on earth. He mumbles something into your neck you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” you whisper.

“I said I’m gonna love you for a lot more years.”

You kiss him again.

He kisses back— entirely, completely yours.

FINALLY.

It’s just after sunset when he takes your hand.

The sky is that kind of soft—streaked with violet and gold like it’s blushing for you—and there’s a quietness in the air that feels intentional. Like even the wind knows what’s coming.

“Come with me,” he says gently, fingers warm in yours.

You follow him up a familiar path—a small hill where the two of you used to come to watch the stars back when you were still unsure of what this was. It’s quieter now. Grown. Like both of you.

At the top, there’s nothing fancy. No flowers. No decorations. Just a soft, folded blanket, and a lantern that glows like candlelight in the middle. He lights it with a flick of his thumb and sits down, patting the space next to him.

You sit. And your heart starts thudding when you see he’s nervous.

Not shy nervous.

Trembling-hands, can’t-meet-your-eyes nervous.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Breathes in.

“I’ve been trying to plan the perfect way to tell you this,” he says, voice quieter than usual.

You tilt your head, completely obvious and confused. “Matt, are you good? You can tell me anything you know.”

He grins at that, but doesn’t look at you right away. He picks at the edge of the blanket instead, like he’s walking himself toward something.

“I know,” he says finally. “That’s kind of the problem. You make everything too easy. I had this whole dramatic thing planned. Flashy. Big. Public.” He glances at you. “You would’ve hated it.”

You snort. “Correct.”

He laughs again, but this time, his eyes flick to yours and hold. His hand slides over to yours, fingers curling between yours slow and deliberate.

“So I thought maybe I’d just take you here,” he says, “where it all started. Just us. The stars. A blanket. Like the first time you made fun of my hoodie and accidentally made me fall in love with you.”

You’re still grinning, still thinking this is just some sweet, nostalgic moment on a hill you both love. 

He shifts onto one knee.

You still don’t register it.

You’re smiling at him, waiting for the punchline, until you realize—

he’s still down.

And he’s pulling something out of his jacket.

Your heart stutters.

“Matt,” you say, a whisper.

“I didn’t want you to see it coming,” he says softly. “Because I want this to feel like how it’s always felt with you—sudden. And perfect. And exactly where I’m meant to be.”

He opens the box, and the ring inside catches the warm flicker of the lantern light.

You go still.

Completely, utterly still.

“I love you,” he says. No trembling. No hesitation. Just truth. “And I want to keep loving you. In every version of our life, every phase, every morning-after and fight and late-night grocery run I love you more than anything in this entire world, and I will spend the rest of my life for you, with you.”

A moment passes.

“Will you marry me?”

You stare at him.

Your hand is over your mouth. Your chest is a mess. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t even remember them starting.

“Are you—Matt, are you serious?”

He smiles—wide and boyish and a little cocky now. “Yeah. Been serious for a while.”

You’re grabbing his face and kissing him so hard you both fall sideways onto the blanket, the box somewhere between you, forgotten for now because—

“I love you I love you I love you,” you whisper again, voice breaking against his skin as you pepper kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

He’s blinking up at you, stunned by the force of it. “Is that a yes?”

“YES!!” You shout it. “YES—of course it’s a yes—you insane, incredible, perfect man!”

He lets out a choked little laugh and finally gets the ring on your finger, both of you shaking, neither of you letting go.

“I was trying to be smooth,” he mumbles into your neck.

“You ambushed me,” you giggle back. “I didn’t see it coming at all.”

And he smiles, eyes bright, because your heart’s still racing, and your hands are still clutching his shirt, and you keep whispering—

“I love you I love you I love you,”

Like you’ll never get tired of saying it. And he’ll never, ever, ever get tired of hearing it.

a/n- if you got this far, I LOVE YOU!

i put my entire soul into this fic, and I am praying to every god that this doesnt flop and people are actually willing to read all 15,000 words.

if this does flop, i'm going to release each part as an au, bc i worked way too hard on this for people to not read it.

anyways thats day 1 of my special!!

𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒆

comment to be added to taglist

[izzylovesmatt]

warm and wicked | m.s

— matt sturniolo x fem! reader

— warnings: smut (implied), suggestive content, established relationship, cockwarming, public tension, exhibitionism (light), unprotected sex (implied), dom/sub undertones, brat!reader behavior, whispered dirty talk, power play

movie night with the boys… except matt’s buried inside you under the blanket, not moving, whispering threats in your ear while his brothers stay totally clueless. it’s torture. it’s heaven. it’s so wrong but you don’t want it to stop.

requested by anon! | word count: 354

You should feel guilty. You should. Nick is sitting on the other side of the couch, tossing popcorn into his mouth like nothing's wrong, and Chris is slumped into the armchair, half-asleep, grumbling about how long it's taking to choose a movie to watch for movie night.

Meanwhile, you're sitting on Matt's lap under a fuffy thrown blanket with him buried inside you.

No movement. No thrusting. Just that aching fullness, his cock pressed so deep it feels like it's part of you. Your legs are tucked over his, his hoodie swallowing your frame, and if anyone looked too closely.. well, you'd be absolutely done for.

But Mat? He's calm. His hands rested low on your back, drawing innocent circles. His mouth is right by your ear as he murmurs, voice low and amused, "Still wanna be a little tease when my brothers are right here, sweetheart?"

You shift slightly, barely and his grip tightens instantly. "Don't" his voice drops low, that warning edge making you clench around him without meaning. Matt groans under his breath and you feel his cock twitch inside you. "You do that again and I swear--"

"Dude, are you good?" Chris glances over, eyebrows raised. Matt covers it up with a cough. "Yeah. it's just.. allergies."

You nearly choke on your own laugh, burying your face in his shoulder, trying to stay still even though everything in you is screaming for more friction, more movement, more him.

Nick's scrolling on the TV. "You've got like, two seconds before I pick something cursed."

Matt shifts, his hands gripping your waist like a threat, voice hot against your skin: "Better stay real still, baby. If I feel you move even a little when they turn the lights off.." His lips brush your ear, "I won't be nice anymore"

And just like that, the movie starts, room dimming, brothers settling, blanket still in place. And you? You're shaking with the effort not to move. Because Matt's cock is still inside you, hot and pulsing, and this might be the most torturous, filthy move night of your life.

And god.. you love it.

a/n: if you have any more horny, angst, or fluff requests sent them my way! id love to write themm

click here to be added to my taglist and here for masterlist <3

taglist 1 ✎

@chrisissobabygirl @sturnzwrld @strnilolover @sweetshuga @mattslilies @sirensdollesque @slxtarchive @heartsonlyforchris @sturns-mermaid @bluessturniolo @pasteldreams @endereies @solarsturniolo @drewswife @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @ivytthew @blushsturns @surprisecurlyfriess @mazzystarrysky @eclipsturns @riasturns @mattsgirl4ever @elisesturnz @ribbonlovergirl @chrisslut04 @pair-of-pantaloons @obxfansstuff @poppetbaby02 @bgfshai @kalel2005

[izzylovesmatt]

Empty dreams and false promises

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be? 

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

⸻

People say New York is the city that never sleeps.

But after my dad died… the noise felt different. Like the world kept spinning and I was the only one stuck. Like every honk, every shout, every blaring taxi was a reminder that life went on without him.

I sat on the fire escape outside my bedroom window, knees pulled to my chest, the cold metal biting through my jeans. The streets buzzed below me—car alarms, chatter, a saxophone from somewhere in the distance. I used to love this city. It felt like home. Like Dad. But now… now it just felt loud and hollow.

My phone buzzed again. I didn’t even bother checking it. I already knew who it was.

Voicemail from another lawyer.

Another message from some guy named Jimmy Sturniolo.

A dozen missed calls from people I didn’t even know, offering fake condolences and empty “If you need anything…” promises.

I needed my dad. None of them could give me that.

The last thing he said to me—God, I remember it so clearly—was:

“I’ll pick you up after school, alright? Don’t forget your coat, it’s supposed to rain.”

He was smiling. Laughing, even. He always laughed when I rolled my eyes.

But he never picked me up.

A black car showed up instead. A man in a suit with a clipboard and a look on his face like he was delivering a death sentence. I don’t remember the words. Just the sound. The rush of blood in my ears. The world tilted sideways.

My dad—David Y/L/N—CEO of Vantage Timepieces, car enthusiast, terrible cook, my entire world—was gone in a split second.

They said the brakes failed. Said he didn’t feel anything. Said a lot of things.

But none of it mattered.

Because I was alone now.

And when you’re seventeen, alone feels… dangerous.

⸻

The apartment was too quiet now. My dad’s jacket still hung by the front door. His favorite mug—“World’s Okayest Dad”—sat on the counter, half-filled with stale coffee. I couldn’t bring myself to touch anything. If I did, I’d lose what little pieces of him I had left.

There was a knock on the door earlier today. I didn’t answer it. I didn’t care who it was.

Instead, I went into his office and shut the door behind me. I hadn’t been in here since the accident. It still smelled like him—like cedarwood and espresso and old paper. His chair was pushed back slightly, like he had just stepped away. Like he might walk back in any second and ruffle my hair and tell me to stop snooping.

But he wouldn’t.

I dropped onto the leather couch, hugging one of the pillows to my chest.

He was supposed to live forever.

He promised.

⸻

I don’t know what time it was when I started packing.

It was almost robotic—throwing clothes into a duffel bag, grabbing cash from the safe he showed me once, the “just-in-case” stash. Guess now counted.

I didn’t cry.

I just zipped up the bag, pulled on my hoodie, and left the key on the kitchen counter.

The only thing I took of his was his watch.

A black and gold Vantage prototype he never let out of his sight.

Now it was on my wrist.

Fitting, in a messed up way.

⸻

The next week was a blur.

I stayed in cheap motels, bounced around using a prepaid burner phone. I didn’t want to be found. Especially not by him—Jimmy Sturniolo. My dad talked about him sometimes, called him his “brother in everything but blood.” Apparently, they used to run business together back in the day before Jimmy moved to LA and started his own empire.

I didn’t care.

Because I didn’t want a stranger playing parent. I didn’t want to go to LA. I didn’t want any of this.

Every time I saw Jimmy’s name pop up on my phone, I hit decline. I even blocked the number. But the texts kept coming from other numbers.

“Y/N, I understand you’re scared. But your dad made arrangements. I want to help.”

“Please just let me know you’re okay.”

“I promised him I’d take care of you. That’s not a promise I take lightly.”

I didn’t respond.

Because I didn’t need help.

I just needed to breathe.

⸻

I stayed in a crappy motel off some random highway outside the city. The kind where the beds creak and the water runs brown for a second when you turn it on. I sat cross-legged on the bed, staring blankly at the news on the TV. Something about rising stocks. My dad would’ve had a comment about it. Probably made some joke only business nerds would laugh at.

I missed his stupid jokes.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it.

Grief tasted stronger than hunger.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Not the kind of knock you hear in passing.

It was firm. Certain. Like whoever was behind it knew I was there.

I crept to the door, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear. Slowly, I peeked through the peephole.

Tall guy.

Black coat.

Kind eyes.

He looked exhausted, like he’d been searching for years.

I hesitated, then cracked the door open just an inch.

“Who are you?”

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet. Steady. “I’m Jimmy. Jimmy Sturniolo.”

I stared at him.

“You’ve been following me.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” he corrected gently. “There’s a difference.”

I didn’t say anything.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen. I know this is the last thing you want. I get it. But I made your father a promise.”

I opened the door a little more, arms still crossed.

“And what, you’re just gonna swoop in and pretend to be my new dad?”

“No,” he said quickly. “God, no. I’m not trying to replace him. No one could.”

His voice cracked a little, and I saw it then—behind the calm front, he was grieving too.

“I just… want to get you somewhere safe,” he added. “He wanted you with me if anything happened.”

I looked down at my socks. I couldn’t bring myself to say yes. But I couldn’t say no either.

Finally, I whispered, “Where?”

“LA. With my sons.”

“Great. A house full of strangers.”

Jimmy cracked a tired smile. “They’re good boys. And we’ve got room. Just… give it a chance.”

I didn’t answer.

But the next morning, I was on a jet bound for California.

first series and i’m super excited to continue it!

love janae 💋

[izzylovesmatt]

romantic shit

fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, denial of feelings, slow burn, kissing, love letter, lots of romantic gestures:)

word count - 6k

“Ugh,” she groaned, dragging the last syllable out like a sigh from her bones. “Can some romantic shit happen to me, please?”

She collapsed, face-first, into the middle of her best friend’s bed like a girl in a rom-com… but she wasn’t acting. It was dramatic, yes, but there was a truth to it, heavy and childlike, something in the way her shoulders sank. 

Matt looked up from his phone, blinking curiously like he’d only just remembered she was there. “You alright?”

She rolled over with a groan and flopped an arm over her eyes. “Not even a little bit.”

“What happened?” he asked, pushing himself up on one elbow. His tone was light, amused. “You fall in love with another stranger on the train?”

She peeled one eye open to glare at him. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Okay, sorry. What is it then?”

She groaned again. “It’s just… I’m almost in my twenties, Matt. Like fully, completely, no-going-back. And I still haven’t been swept off my feet. Not even gently nudged. Not even… breezed past. I want something. Just a little bit of affection, y’know?”

Matt tried not to smile too much, but it tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You are so dramatic.”

She sat up and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t mock me. It’s tragic. I should have been someone’s girlfriend, or, or something by now!”

“You’re definitely something,” he muttered, still smiling.

She huffed and fell back again, arms flung wide. “When does the romance start, Matt? When do I get flowers? Or lazy kisses? Or some idiot making me a playlist that’s just, like, seven of the same song in a row and then pretending they didn’t mean anything by it?”

Matt snorted. “Maybe you’re scaring it away. Romance. With all this pressure.”

She turned her head to look at him, eyes narrowed. “Do I look scary to you?”

“A little bit,” he said, but softer this time. He was still watching her, the flushed cheeks, hair slipping loose, the curve of her lip when she tried not to smile back.

She didn’t say anything after that, just blinked up at the ceiling. The kind of silence that only existed between people who were already used to each other’s company.

Matt glanced at her again, more carefully this time.

It was the way she said it. Like she was joking, but not really. Like it was something she’d been carrying for a long time and finally let slip.

No one had ever made her feel that way?

No one?

He didn’t say anything then.

But he remembered.

He tried to forget about it. He really did.

But the thought kept curling into the corners of his mind, soft and persistent like waves under a dock.

She said it so simply. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like of course she’d never been given flowers or walked home in the rain or had someone write her a love letter. As if she’d made peace with that.

But Matt hadn’t.

He lay in bed that night, the blue glow of his phone lighting up the ceiling, scrolling through shit he didn’t care about. But his mind kept circling back to her face, scrunched in frustration, and the way her voice caught just a little when she said, Not even nudged.

It wasn’t just because he liked her… although he did, obviously, desperately, quietly. Ever since he’d known her. It was because she deserved more. And not in the way people say that casually. She really, really did.

And he knew it wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, that she’d stayed up late to write beautiful words for people who didn’t care as much as her, told him wistfully about guys she thought were “really cute” and “kinda sweet”,  and found comfort in the hope that someone would kiss her, one day, after she stared at them with that look in her eye that had never, not once, been directed at him. And that was okay.

Because she deserved the kind of love that was thoughtful and sweet and awkward and real. Not grand gestures or fake charm. Just the kind of love that paid attention.

And if no one else was going to give it to her, then he would.

He’d do all of it. The flowers, the hand holding, the little moments she always joked about or cringed at but secretly craved. Even if she never saw him that way. Even if she never knew. Because that wasn’t the point.

The point was she deserved to have a little bit of romance in her life. To know what romantic shit felt like.

And Matt? Matt would be the one to show her.

Even if it broke him a little in the process.

The flower shop was an impulsive stop.

He was on his way to pick her up for their usual late-night food run, fries and hot fudge sundaes from McDonalds and people-watching in the Target parking lot, when he saw the corner stall with the striped awning and the buckets of blooms out front.

He didn’t think about it. He just parked, got out, and stared at the rows of color like an idiot who had no idea what he was doing.

“Can I help you with anything?” the florist’s voice startled Matt, almost jumping back as the lady from behind the counter smiled kindly at him.

He hesitates before asking, “What kind of flowers are best for a girl that I’m best friends with that I don’t want to ruin my friendship with but also I want to do something romantic for her?” he rambles, slightly breathless by the time he’s done.

She blinked. “That’s very specific.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

She walked around the shop, gathering several kinds of flowers, constructing a bunch that she gathered with ribbon and brown paper, before handing him the small bouquet. It was perfect, and Matt gazed down at it, lips slightly apart, admiring it. Soft yellow daisies, baby’s breath, and something with blue petals he couldn’t name.

“They look like her,” he breathed, and the florist smiled again.

Matt didn’t know how to thank the lady, but he bought them anyway, tipping generously.

When he showed up at her house ten minutes later, she opened the door in an oversized hoodie and socks that didn’t match, and blinked down at the flowers like he was holding a live raccoon.

“What... is this?”

He shoved the bouquet forward awkwardly. “They reminded me of you. I figured, you know. Tuesday.”

“It’s Thursday.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “I know you’ve never gotten flowers before. So.”

She stared at them. Then at him. Then back at the flowers like they might explode. There was a tight feeling in her chest again, one that curved up towards her head and down towards her toes.

“Thanks?” she finally said.

He pushed them towards her again, and she took them gently, staring down at them, head slightly tilted.

“Matt.”

“What?”

“You’re being weird.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, already walking back towards the car.

She closed the door slowly behind him, then turned to look at the bouquet in her hands again, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

She didn’t mention the flowers again.

But he saw her put them in a tall jar and set them by her bed later that night, and that was more than enough.

A few weeks go by, and Matt is stuck. He keeps thinking about what else he can do for her, how else he can be romantic, without stepping over the line, making her uncomfortable. It turns out planning romantic gestures whilst trying to maintain platonic boundaries isn’t the easiest thing in the world.

That’s why he just says it.

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

Just like that. Like it’s nothing. Like they haven’t known each other, been best friends, for years.

She’s picking popcorn off her hoodie sleeve when he says it, and she laughs, mouth full, thinking he's joking. But then she glances up.

And he’s not.

“Like…” she pauses, the bowl still in her hand. “Go out go out?”

Matt shrugs. His voice is casual but his leg starts bouncing, just a little. “Only if you want. Doesn’t have to be… like that.”

She feels her heart skip something. A beat. A thought. A warning.

“I don’t get it,” she says, a little too quiet. “How would it not be  like that?”

He leans back against the couch, the space between them suddenly loud. “I dunno. I just figured… it’d be fun. We already hang out all the time anyway. Might be fun to just… go to a fancy restaurant, get dressed up, eat, talk, you know.” 

Matt’s voice is gentle, but he places his hand on his knee, hoping she doesn’t notice how they’re shaking.

She hates how his words keep making her chest ache lately. How easy he makes it sound. Like it’s a joke. Like he could take it back. 

She tries to keep her voice light, teasing. “Is this a pity date?”

Matt’s eyes shoot to hers. “What? No.”

She forces a laugh. “You’re just doing this because I said that stuff about no one’s ever done anything romantic for me. And now you’re asking if you can take me out. You gotta admit, it feels kinda… charity case-y.”

“Stop.” His voice is low. Serious. He leans forward, elbows on knees. “It’s not like that.”

“You sure?” she asks, voice slightly small. “Because I don’t want it to be, like… fake. My first date. Ever.”

She pauses before continuing, “I’d like it to be real.”

There’s another pause that drifts into several minutes of charged silence, the both of them next to each other, not quite sure what else to say.

Matt scoffs at one point, but it’s not mean, laughing at himself more than anything. “You don’t think… that I, like, smell or something, do you?”

The line cuts through the tension. She can’t help it. She laughs, this breathy little noise that makes his shoulders drop. He smiles then. Small and hopeful.

“No, Matt,” she says, looking at him and smiling softly. “You don’t smell.”

He watches her carefully, gently. She looks away first, overwhelmed.

“Look,” he says, softer now, “I’m not trying to freak you out. I just… thought it’d be nice. That’s all. Just us. As friends. Doing something fun. If you want.”

She blinks a few times too fast. She hates how her throat tightens.

“I don’t wanna say yes and then things get messed up,” she admits.

Matt frowns. “You couldn’t mess me up.”

“Yeah?” she says, trying to joke but her voice catches anyway. “Watch me.”

He laughs a little as she wiggles her eyebrows at him. Leans back again. There’s still a bit of space between them, but it doesn’t feel so loud anymore.

“Okay,” he says, nudging her knee with his. “How about this. If I promise it’s completely platonic, zero pressure, no weirdness, will you let me take you to dinner?”

She looks at him. Really look at him. His stupidly soft eyes. How blue they are. The way he’s being so insistent, pretending not to care about any of this, even though he must, there’s no way any of this is careless.

“Fine,” she says. “But if you try anything weird you’re being replaced as my best friend with your brother.”

Matt laughs at that, a smile etched into his stubble covered cheeks, “Which one?”

She pretends to consider this, stroking her chin with her finger, “Not sure yet. But still. Best behaviour.”

“Deal,” he grins, holding out a pinky. “Scout’s honor.”

She hooks hers with his, and she feels it all the way down to her ribs.

He doesn’t let go right away. And neither does she.

She’s never felt more overdressed for a not-date.

Which is stupid, because she’s not even dressed up. Just jeans, a top she forgot she liked, mascara that’s smudged a little because her hand shook while putting it on. But it feels like too much and not enough at the same time.

She tells herself not to expect anything. That it’s just dinner. That he’s just being nice. That he’s only doing this because she said no one ever had. Complained about it.

Still, she sits on the edge of her bed for ten minutes before he arrives, reapplying lip gloss and second-guessing her outfit. What’s the dress code here? What kind of clothes do you put on? Do you dress for the restaurant? Or the person? It wasn’t like she liked Matt, well she did. But not in that way. Not in the way where you yearn and pine and can’t even believe you’re going out with them. Which she did, in a way. Just not in a romantic way.

Yet, when her phone buzzes with the word here at the same time that she hears the car horn, her stomach twists.

She texts him:

come to the door like a normal person 🙄

He does.

When she opens it, Matt’s standing there in a jacket that’s almost too nice to be his, holding another small bouquet. They’re a little lopsided. Wrapped in a paper towel and tinfoil. They’re perfect.

“I, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Got you these. Last minute. No pressure or anything. You can throw them out if they suck.”

She blinks. Look at the flowers, then at him.

“I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “I didn’t say they were date flowers.”

She laughs, even though her chest’s gone tight.

“…You really didn’t have to. I wasn’t expecting… this.”

He stops halfway to the car, turning around. “Yeah. So?”

“So… more flowers?”

He tilts his head. “Friends can get friends flowers.”

She narrows her eyes. “Matt.”

“Okay.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I won’t do the cheesy thing where I say ‘you deserve pretty things’ or whatever. But also? You do. Plus like it’s still kind of a date, so I figured, I should just…”

She interrupts him, smiling, “Thank you, Matt.”

He smiles so softly it hurts, holding the car door open for her.

The drive is short, soft, golden.

Matt taps his fingers on the steering wheel along to the music, and she can tell he made a playlist, songs she’d shown him, or that he’d shown her. Some she forgot about. Some that make her want to cry a little, for no real reason.

She looks out the window, letting the wind rush over her face.

He sings a little under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear it. 

She reminds herself this doesn’t mean anything. He’s just… recreating something romantic because she said no one ever had. That’s what good friends do, right?

He just wants her to have it. Not because he means it. She doesn’t let herself imagine otherwise.

He opens the door for her.  Pulls out her chair when she walks in. Doesn’t make a joke out of it, doesn’t even draw attention to it.

She notices anyway.

“So,” he says, once they’re both seated. “What’s the verdict? Am I killing it or what?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re really milking the whole ‘just friends’ thing, huh.”

“I’m being a good friend!” he says, mouth full of garlic bread. “I’m literally spoiling you.”

“Exactly.”

He swallows. Shrugs. “You deserve it.”

She goes quiet.

And he lets her. Just looks at her for a second longer than necessary before changing the subject.

Matt pretends not to notice when her voice shakes ordering her food, or when she gets too excited about the seasoning on the fries.

It’s her favourite place, her place, and he remembered that. Without her having to say it.

He doesn’t say much while they eat. Just listens. Smiles at her dumb jokes. Picks the tomato off her plate without asking and swaps her half the rest of his bread without saying anything.

It’s the kind of quiet that feels safe. Like he’s memorising this.

And that’s the part that hurts a little. Because it’s starting to feel like a memory already. Like something she’ll look back on when she’s older and say yeah, someone did that for me once.

Not because it was real. Just because it was kind.

In the car after dinner, Matt takes the long way back.

She doesn’t ask him to.

She’s quiet for most of it, her fingers playing with the sleeve of her jacket. She wants to say something light, something funny. But it’s sitting heavy in her chest. All of it.

So she asks, “Why are you doing this?”

Matt glances at her. “Doing what?”

“All of… this,” she gestures half-heartedly.

He frowns. “Because I want to?”

She laughs once, soft and unsure. “You don’t have to pretend it’s real, you know. I’m not, like, expecting you to… I just don’t want things to get confused.”

“What if I’m trying to make it very confusing,” he says, chuckling lightly. The words are teasing. Falling out of his mouth too fast. Like he didn’t mean to say them out loud.

She glances over, but he’s back to watching the road, mouth pressed in a line, fingers tapping against the wheel, other hand resting on his thigh.

She doesn’t know what to do with that. What he means. What she’s allowed to believe. 

So she doesn’t answer. And he doesn’t push it.

She gets out of the car with her heart beating somewhere in her throat. She lingers by the door, looking at him through the open window.

“I really did have fun,” she says.

“Good,” he replies. “Let’s do it again.”

She smiles. “Yeah. Sure. As friends, right?”

Something in his jaw twitches as he smiles.

“Of course,” he says.

Back in her room, she places the flowers on her bedside table. She leaves the window cracked so she can smell them when the wind blows.

She falls asleep thinking about his voice, singing softly to the open road.

Another couple of weeks go by, and then she’s meeting Matt at the aquarium entrance and smiling before she can stop herself.

He’s leaning against the railing, plastic bag in one hand, sun in his hair, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows like always. He straightens up when he sees her.

“That’s mine,” he says, gesturing to the hoodie she’d “borrowed” a few weeks ago. It’s oversized on her, the sleeves swallowing her hands.

She tugs it self-consciously. “It was cold.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Inside, it’s cooler, dimly lit. The aquarium is all soft glass reflections and low murmurs. She could spend hours here.

Matt lets her lead the way.

He doesn’t rush. He pauses every time she pauses, nods along when she excitedly rambles about the stingrays, buys her a keychain shaped like a turtle when she’s not looking.

She holds it up with mock offense.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“So what? You deserve it,” he says too quickly. Then clears his throat. “I mean, you like turtles.”

She blinks again. Smile. Let it slide. She’s used to his kindness by now. She just… never expected it to mean anything more.

The jellyfish room is her favorite.

Always has been.

The room glows a low, otherworldly purple. The tank in front of her pulses with jellyfish like little cosmoses orbiting one another

She presses her forehead to the glass.

“They don’t even have brains,” she murmurs.

Matt stands beside her, smiling softly. “Lucky bastards.”

She laughs, and glances at him.

For a second, Matt thinks he sees that look in her eye. Her chin’s titled ever so lightly, eyelashes fluttering like the butterflies in his stomach. But then she looks away, and mutters something about the “fishy smell” in the room.

Later, she’s walking along the pier beside him, with soft-serve in hand, her shoes tied by the laces and slung over her shoulder. The air smells like sugar and sea salt. Matt insisted on paying for both cones. She tried to argue, but he just gave her a look.

He nudges her as they walk.

“You always get the same flavor,” he teases.

“You always steal mine.”

“You like it when I do.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re imagining things.”

Maybe she is too. Because this is starting to feel like another date, but… it can’t be. It’s just Matt. Just her best friend. Just someone who knows her, her favourite exhibit at the aquarium, her favourite flavour of ice cream.

Just someone who holds her heart without meaning to.

Right?

The beach is nearly empty when they get there.

They sit in the sand and she stretches her legs, toes curling into the cool grains. The sun is sinking, golden and syrupy and slow. Her shoulder brushes his. She doesn’t move.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

Matt’s quiet. Then, “You always say that.”

“Well, sunsets always are.”

“I know.”

He glances over at her. She’s looking out at the sea, totally lost in it. He watches her.

She doesn’t notice.

“I wish this could last forever,” she murmurs.

And she means the sunset. But he doesn’t.

“Me too,” he says.

She smiles. “Thanks for today, Matt. You’re seriously the best.”

She leans her head briefly on his shoulder. Just for a second. Just enough to miss the way he closes his eyes when she does.

He doesn’t say anything back.

But he doesn’t move, either.

There’s a tower of Lego bricks between her and Matt, both of them sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor. She’s built a vaguely pirate-shaped ship, two crooked houses, and what was meant to be a cat but now just looks… haunted.

“It’s abstract,” Matt says diplomatically, chewing the cap of a red brick, trying to separate it.

She points at it. “You said you were gonna make my cat.”

“I did. This is a perfect representation of Karma’s weird little legs.”

She gasps. “How dare you.”

He grins, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You love when I make fun of her.”

“No, I don’t. I endure it.”

There’s music playing from his speaker, something dreamy and acoustic, Matt’s go-to playlist when she hangs out at his place. She knows half the lyrics by heart now. She’s already leaning back on her palms, more in his space than hers.

It feels like home. It always has.

They put on a movie after that. One of the dumb comedies they both love, the kind with inside jokes baked into it. They’re curled up on the couch, blanket pooled around them, a bowl of popcorn between them.

He shifts closer during the opening scene. And when his arm moves behind her, it’s so slow she almost thinks she imagined it. Just a brush of his hoodie against her shoulder. A second later, his hand settles lightly on her upper arm, not quite pulling her in, but not not doing that either.

She goes still.

And then she keeps eating popcorn, pretending her heart isn’t racing.

This is fine. This is normal. Just her best friend with his arm around her like this isn’t a stereotypical, textbook, romantic moment.

She doesn’t lean in.

She doesn’t pull away.

She just sits there, caught somewhere in the middle.

Fuck this romantic shit.

October creeps in with its cold mornings and whispering trees. She tells Matt that she’s not going to the Halloween party unless he is.

He looks up from the couch. “I thought you said it’d be lame.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, hiding her smile. “You’re my ride.”

He eyes her. “Is that the only reason?”

“Obviously.”

He doesn’t believe her.

She doesn’t believe herself either.

The night of the party, she opens the door to find Matt with a tie on and some fur ears, freckles drawn on and a little nose too, smiling weakly

She bursts into laughter.

“No way.”

He grins. “You said Fantastic Mr. Fox was your comfort movie. I figured I’d commit.”

She’s wearing a yellow sundress and matching makeup, complete with a set of fur ears . She didn’t think he’d actually go through with the duo costume. She didn’t think he remembered.

But of course he did.

He notices her hesitation, the way she fiddles with her ears, the nervous smile. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s just for fun.”

She nods, biting the inside of her cheek. “Right. For fun.”

Just a costume. Just a theme. Just a party.

They end up leaving the party early. Too many people. Too loud. They joke about why they even bothered going, they’re both not party people.

He walks her home.

The streets are quiet, leaves rustling. There’s something soft about the silence between them, it’s nice.

They brush shoulders once. Then again.

Then, his hand finds hers.

Not all at once. Just a graze. A slow, unsure slip of fingers. She pauses in her steps as he leads her across the street.

The kitchen smells like sugar and vanilla. The windows are fogged with late-afternoon light. She’s standing over a bowl of batter, wooden spoon in hand, apron slightly askew.

Matt is beside her, licking icing off his finger like it’s no big deal.

“Stop eating it,” she scolds, bumping her hip into his. “You’re ruining the ratio.”

“You’re just mad because I made better frosting than you.”

“You didn’t even make it. You opened a tub.”

He grins. “And still, mine tastes better.”

She sticks her finger into his tub and smears a line across his cheek. “Take that back.”

He goes still for a second. Then grins wider.

“Oh, you’ve declared war.”

He retaliates with a streak across her nose. She yelps. He starts laughing. She lunges at him with floured hands, and suddenly they’re both doubled over with giggles, clothes dusted white, hair sticky with sugar.

Eventually, they’re back to baking. Elbows bumping. Shoulders brushing. Matt taps flour off her nose with the gentlest knuckle, and she pretends it doesn’t make her stomach flutter.

They put the cookies in the oven and collapse onto the couch.

Matt disappears into his room for a second. When he comes back, he’s holding something behind his back.

She raises an eyebrow. “What are you hiding?”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Close your eyes.”

“Matt—”

“Just do it.”

She obeys — only half reluctantly. She feels the couch shift beside her, the soft brush of his hand on her wrist. Then, something cold and delicate against her neck.

“Okay,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Open.”

She blinks her eyes open slowly. Her fingers move instinctively to her chest.

It’s a necklace. A tiny silver locket, the shape of a heart.

“I saw it at that market last weekend,” he says quickly, watching her reaction. “I thought you might like it.”

She runs her thumb over it, heart skittering.

Inside is a tiny photo. It’s grainy, barely an inch wide. But it’s the two of them — from a beach trip last summer, both of them mid-laugh, sunburnt and stupidly happy.

She blinks. Swallows. Tries desperately to speak.

But the words get tangled up with all the feelings she’s tried not to name all this time. The pushing down, the denial of what he’s been doing.

“Matt,” she says quietly. “You shouldn’t have.”

He shrugs again, softer this time. “I wanted to.”

That’s what makes it worse.

Because suddenly it’s too much, the cookies, the hand-holding, the Halloween costume, the flowers, the way he always remembers the little things.

She’s been telling herself he’s just a really good friend. That he just wants her to feel special. To experience some romantic shit, without any of the romance.

But this…

This doesn’t feel platonic anymore.

“You really shouldn’t have,” she says again, and Matt looks at her, confused.

And the worst part?

She liked it. She let herself like it.

Her chest goes tight. Her thoughts spiral.

“I think I need some air,” she mumbles, already standing.

“Hey— wait, what’s wrong?” Matt’s voice is laced with concern, already reaching for her.

But she steps back.

“I’m sorry, I just— I can’t—” She shakes her head. “I think, I think this is unfair on you. I’ve been unfair. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

His expression crumples. “What are you talking about?”

“I let you do all this. And I acted like it didn’t mean anything, but it did. I just didn’t want to admit it. And now I— I don’t know what you want from me, but, I just, I, I can’t.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he says, standing now too, jaw tense. “I just wanted to give you something real. Something good. You deserve that.”

She stares at him, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry, Matt, I think, I think I’m going to go. Thank you for the necklace,” she takes a step away as she says each word.

“Wait, don’t go, I’m sorry, let’s, let’s just talk about this. Please.” Matt says, reaching for her.

She doesn’t mean to flinch but she does, muttering apologies as she picks up her shoes and her bags and practically runs to the door, slamming it shut behind her.

When she gets home, she curls up on the couch. Then she stands up, walks around the living room, goes to the kitchen, opens the fridge, closes it and goes back to the couch.

That’s when she hears it. The metal clank of her letter plate opening and shutting, and the smooth shuffle of an envelope sliding across the wooden floorboards. She gets up from the couch, and walks over, picking it up.

Her name is scrawled in Matt’s messy handwriting. She tears at the fold, being careful of the inside contents, where she finds a letter. A love letter.

As she unfolds the paper, her eyes scan over the words he’s written. The paper looks older in her hands, and the creases are faded into the paper, like it’s been folded and refolded several times. Matt doesn’t say I love you in the letter, not exactly. But it’s there — in every line, every memory, every gentle word.

“If all I ever get is being your best friend, then I’ll still be the luckiest guy alive. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants more — I just need you to know: I’m here. I’ve been here.”

She sits on her bed, fingers grasping at the locket still around her neck, the letter in her lap. Big fat tears drip down from her eyes then, landing on the paper. It’s not like she’s sad, but… maybe just realised how wrong she was. About everything.

She doesn’t knock.

She should — she meant to — but when he opens the door and sees her standing there with her shoulders hunched and his letter clutched in her hand like it’s a lifeline, all the rehearsed hellos scatter like ash.

He looks tired.

Not messy-tired, not just-woke-up tired. But something else. The kind that settles in your bones when you’ve been waiting too long for something that might never come.

He steps aside to let her in.

The room smells like him. Clean cotton, a hint of cedar. Familiar. Warm. She sits down on the edge of his bed, and he doesn’t ask why she came. He just sits next to her and waits. She turns the envelope over in her hands. Folds it, unfolds it. She opens her mouth to speak before she’s ready, just like always.

“I read it.”

Matt nods. “Yeah?”

She nods too. Then there’s silence again. It stretches. Suspended like breath.

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” she says finally. It comes out too soft.

He gives her a look — one of those crooked, exhausted half-smiles. “I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

“You were,” she admits. “That’s the worst part. I just kept pretending you weren’t. Like if I didn’t look too closely at any of it, I wouldn’t have to figure out what it meant.”

Matt stares down at his hands.

“And now?” he asks.

She breathes in and out, slowly, through her mouth and nose. Then she says, “Now I know it was real.”

He blinks. Looks at her, really looks. “And is that a good thing?”

She pauses, the truth rattling in her throat, finally coming free. “I think I got scared,” she admits. “Because no one’s ever done all that stuff for me before. No one’s ever tried to make me feel special like that. And I didn’t know how to accept it without feeling like I owed you something.”

His voice is quiet. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” she says. And she means it now. But she reaches for his hand, threading her fingers through his. His palm is warm. Familiar.

“I just… I need you to know,” she whispers, “It was very romantic. And I loved every second of it.”

His gaze softens, and Matt finally lets himself believe that all of this might not end in heartbreak.

He shifts to face her. “So you’ll let me try?”

She nods. “Obviously.”

He laughs, not big or loud, just a soft exhale of disbelief, like it’s all too good to be real.

Like maybe they’ve both been walking toward this moment for years, and finally, finally, their feet have stopped moving.

The sun’s rising now, golden and syrupy. It spills across the windows of his room where they sit, socks mismatched, a shared blanket over their knees. Her head drops to his shoulder, and he leans into it, a quiet sort of surrender.

“Remember when you said you wanted something romantic to happen to you?” he murmurs.

She looks up. His eyes are close. Closer than usual.

“Yeah?”

He taps her chin. “Think this counts?”

She shrugs, playing dumb. “Dunno. Haven’t dipped me and kissed me yet.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

She grins. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s see some drama.”

And he groans, “You’re gonna make me regret everything,” but he’s standing already, reaching for her hands, tugging her up and into his arms.

“Wait! What if you drop me?” she squeaks.

“Trust me,” he says, holding her waist, palm pressed flat against her spine. “I’ve had you this whole time.”

And then he dips her.

Not perfectly — it’s clumsy and probably too fast, and her hair’s in her face — but his hand is firm and his smile is real and her breath catches because it’s happening. 

Then, slowly, he pulls her upright. His hands don’t leave her waist, and he closes the distance until they’re chest-to-chest, barely any space between them. She blinks up at him and he stares back.

“…What,” she whispers, smiling, a little incredulous.

“What,” he echoes, like a breath.

And then he kisses her.

It’s not fireworks. It’s not a movie score swelling in the background. It’s better. Because it’s him — his hand on her cheek, thumb grazing the corner of her mouth, the taste of mint and something unspoken. And her, clutching the fabric of his hoodie like she’s afraid she’ll float away if she doesn’t hold onto something.

He pulls back first, barely. “Okay?” he says.

She nods. “I think you’re gonna have to do that again.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says. “I was planning on it.”

“How romantic,” she smiles in his embrace.

Matt smiles, teasing, “Only if you’ll have me.”

“No one’s ever had me. Not like you, Matt.”

dividers by @diviniyae ꨄ

a/n: i spent sooo long writing this fic hehe. it's not my best work, i do really like the beginning but i couldn't quite get the second half to work as well as i wanted it to i think :> i think part of the reason for that is i haven't really much experience with romantic stuff in my life, and that's partly why i wrote this fic!! because even though i might not be the most experienced, i can certainly say i've spent a good portion of my life daydreaming about romantic shit :) anyways, sorry for yapping a bit, hope u all like this fic!!

thanks so much for reading!!!!! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 😇

[izzylovesmatt]

this is taking me out😭😭

[izzylovesmatt]

RAT ☣︎

─── patient reader doesn't know who she is, where she is or how she got there. she's monitored 24/7 by scientist matt who knows much more then he'll tell her. how dedicated can matt stay to his cause when he falls in love with her?

("confidential" dividers by @bernardsbendystraws)

PREVIOUS // AU NAV // NAVIGATION // ALL AUS

CONTENT: patient reader has lots of questions for scientist matt. matt doesn't want to upset you but he has a job to do. for the first time ever, you are very talkative and emotive - but now matt feels guilty.

WARNINGS: implications of being experimented on, withholding information, reader gets stressed out, handcuffs and guards, a little arguing.

CHAPTER ONE

wc: 1k

“Is perfect a healthy memory or a lack of one?”

“what are you testing for?” you persisted. 

He gathered back up his papers, dropping them down on the surface to straighten them out. 

“That is your question to answer.” he was being dismissive, not wanting to sway you towards one answer more than another. 

Maybe it was your question. What were you even here for? Maybe the test is to see what you think is happening. 

“whats my name?” you wanted to know what you could, trying to start off with the easier questions. 

“Your patient code is zero zero four, version-”

“My name. Not my code”

He thought of you as stubborn. This version of you was much more curious yet a lot less knowledgeable. Various commands were muttering through his ear piece, alternative phrases of how to further avoid the question. 

“Like freya, daisy, mia. Real names."

“What made you list those names?” 

“Is one of them my name?”

“That is your qu-” “my question to answer, i know.”

He cleared his throat. You had never been this verbal before. You werent afraid like you used to be, and he didnt know how to handle it. There was a new glint in your eye, a sense of hatred. It wasnt directed at him necessarily, maybe it was the machine recording your conversation that you hated. Maybe it was the security cameras or maybe it was the note paper. You were convinced your name was written down somewhere. it would be easier to try and steal the paper than it would be to pull it out of your subconscious. 

“what about you?” you inquired. 

“Im assuming you dont mean my doctor code.”

“You know what im asking.”

He smirked at the passive aggression. This was also new. “If i tell you my name can you tell me yours?”

“But i dont know my name.”

“Lie.”

The machine’s whirring was a little louder. Maybe from the lack of talking that you had noticed but it really felt different. You strained yourself to not look towards it, to not investigate. The session would end if you did and you had plenty more questions to ask. 

“I can choose my name?”

“You can choose what i call you.”

“Are you going to tell me your real name?”

“If you like.”

The atmosphere had changed. You felt as if you were going to gain an advantage - which was a tell tale sign that you didnt actually have one. You were missing something, but you were more curious of the information you were going to gain to get a proper read on the situation. You stared in a request for him to do so, he gave you a small smile and a quick sigh. 

“Matt.”

“Matt?”

“Yes.”

It felt harmless. You could tell he was somewhat embarrassed, a pinkish tint in his cheeks that wasnt there before. He just hadnt expected to like hearing you say his name as much as he did. 

“And your name?” he questioned, making the deal you had even. 

“Can you choose?” he shook his head in response. “But i want you to.”

“I cant do that.”

“Well why not?”

“Its for you to tell me.”

He saw a glint of anger in your eyes, maybe it was just vague irritation and he was reading too far into it. 

“Im your lab rat but you wont give me a name.” or maybe he wasnt. 

He wasnt supposed to upset you. He had rules to limit the information you had or received which unfortunately came before your happiness. The last thing he wanted was for you to hate him, but he had a role to fufill. 

“I dont know which would be worse, if you called me a rat or a bunch of meaningless numbers.” 

The resentment was building up. It was overwhelming even for you, the quick snaps between emotions but the consistent confusion, the consistent lack of information you had.

“What would you like me to call you?” he interrupted your spiralling train of thoughts. 

“My name.”

He smiled in answer, fueling your upset further. It was a single piece of information and he couldnt even give you that. Did he enjoy your confusion that much?

“Id have to discuss it.”

The tension faded out, relaxing the furrowing of your eyebrows from a small sense of hope. He saw your change in emotion, boosting his own enjoyment in the process.

That was until he heard the static of the machine. The light was flickering unevenly, clearly no longer fulfilling its role. He hadnt noticed it at all. He looked towards you to see a hint of uneasiness, you knew the session was going to have to end before matt had even processed it himself. A frown formed on his face.

“Session end time at eighteen hours-”

“Stop!” you interrupted.

“I have to end the session for today.”

“That not fair, im not done! I dont know anything still!”

“You know my name”

“Thats not enough, i have more questions!”

He arose from his seat, you wanted to mimic his action until you felt the tug of handcuffs attached to your wrists. You hadnt even noticed that you were tied to the metal bars poking out from the middle of the table. Your emotions once again were rapidly switching. 

“Session end time at eighteen hours and twenty six minutes. Abrupt ending due to technical malfunction.” 

He made a note of it and so did the team of people listening in from the viewing window, the one you didnt know was there. He gathered all belongings and tucked his chair in. the guards stormed into the room abruptly, heading directly towards you to remove handcuffs and pull you out of the room so that matt could follow along after you. He felt more guilty for it than he usually did. You typically didnt convey fear or anger, now you showed every emotion possible. You even wanted to keep talking, so did matt. 

The last thing you remembered of that day was calling out his name as you were dragged out, his emotionless demeanor faltering as a guilty frown settled on his face. 

a/n imo I think this is kinda super cool , excited to start writing part two if you want want it c:

tags:

everything taglist: @pair-of-pantaloons @oopsiedaisydeer @corspebridedelrey @browniepop62 @izzylovesmatt @michele-sturns @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @emely9274 @baebadoobee4ever @fw-lee @afr8idofrats @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @chrxsprettygirl @franticroads @m4gz-png @clairomatt @allisonclairee @mattshorsenecklace @whor3ing @matts-girlfriend @obsessedwiththesturniolos @shadowthesim237 @chrisslut04 @jetaimevous @eeyoresturnz @dolliraez @sugarraez @pizzapocketpocketpizza @k1ssettae @pink1man @bbgirlmatt @fadedstvrn @sturnslutz @ribbonlovergirl @msvalsius @mattsfavoriteteddybear @sturnberries @jacsismattswife @tezzzzzzzz @matts-hersheys-kisses + all matt only taglist : @pinkmattrr @apersononearth011 + angst and fluff only taglist : @xeneasworld @auttysturnz @kayskreativeideas @franticroads

[izzylovesmatt]

texts between nerd!matt & cheerleader!reader

contains: fluff, a hint of suggestive content (a sex joke), explicit language (slightly)

a/n: heyyy it's been a while and im so sorry for not posting bc life has been too rough on me lately 💔💔 but i hope yall like it!!

tags: @fadedstvrn & @chrissturnzwife

© calicosturn, 2025

[izzylovesmatt]

@sturn-baby05 @mattscoquette @chrepsi

tag game!!!

look up a food, a drink, and what you’re gonna watch!!! tag some friends!!! anyone in the fandom can participate!!!

some tags but anyone is allowed to join in!!! - @annasturns @strnilolover @sturnsblogs @muwapsturniolo @chrisbratt333 @lovesturni0l0s @sturniolo-fann @sturniolo-szn2

[izzylovesmatt]

wtf do you mean zenith deactivated.. MY BBY 💔💔 she was seriously my fav writer on here ☹️ rip @zenithsturniolo-deactivated2025 you will forever be missed

[izzylovesmatt]

if you support tr*mp, go ahead and unfollow, block, dislike wtvr the fuck and leave my page.

[izzylovesmatt]

1. fuck donald trump

2. fuck ICE

3. fuck everyone who voted donald trump even though they probably can’t read this! 🤍

[izzylovesmatt]

SUCKER.|| Dealer!Chris x Maneater!Reader

chapter two.

-> chapter one.

warnings: swearing, flirting, cigarette smoking, drinking, reader is a bitch as always, one use of Y/N.

I sat in my lush dark red gown at my vanity, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was in curlers on top of my head, and I had started applying some makeup while we had music on in the background, a buzz of excitement in the air. I looked to my right, a little leopard-print padded bag with a faded black zip sat amongst my makeup products. My name was embroidered with black thread across the front, it was a sweet gift I had received from my mother. It made me think back to that god awful place I visited a week ago, and maybe the thought of some blue eyes too. Why you ask? Well, I reached over and grabbed it, looking inside to see if the bag of weed was still there, along with my grinder and some papers. I threw it on the bed as a reminder to put it in my bag before we leave.

Anna had walked out of my bathroom with one of my white fluffy towels wrapped around her body. Her brunette hair was hanging around her shoulders in wet ropes, her olive skin was now flushed from the heat of the shower. I met her gaze through the mirror, watching her walk to my closet. "Mmm, I will never get over how good your water pressure is." She groaned, placing her left hand over her right shoulder as she turned and opened the closet door.

I turned to look at her, smiling at the comment. "What are you thinking of wearing to this party tonight anyway?" She looked over her shoulder, "Well, I know I want to look hot. Maybe catch someone's eye." She smirked at me. I rolled my eyes, looking back towards my mirror and placing some concealer under my eyes. "I thought we are going there to have some fun, not pick up boys." Anna had wanted us to go to this house party tonight as we haven't been out together in a while, and we were feeling tired of always doing the same thing.

The brunette pulled out a black top, with lace details on the sleeves and held it up to her chest as she turned around and send me a sharp glare. "What? Who said anything about boys? I'm trying to pick up a man." I huffed out a chortle, blending in the remainder of my base with my wet beauty blender. This was one of my favourite pass times, spending time getting ready and talking shit with my best friend. I got up from my vanity, "I'm thirsty, would you like some wine?" I said with a mischievous smile. She waved her hand with a nod and turned back to my closet to continue her search.

Eventually, I made it back up the stairs with two large glasses of white wine and ice in each hand. Anna was already dressed, sitting on the edge of my bed as she laced up her chunky combat boots. She was wearing black cargo pants, and had replaced the black top she took out earlier with a nice, red long sleeve. I wolf whistled as I passed the threshold, handing her one of the glasses. "Stop flirting with me, I'll have your babies." She playfully threatened, taking a sip of the sweet white liquor and moving a piece of her now styled hair out of her face. I moved to my cupboard, placing my glass on the vanity as I passed. I knew what I wanted to wear, so I pulled out a black mini skirt, a white baby tee that stops at my midriff, and my knee-high black boots, slipping into a pair of black lace panties and a matching bra. I smiled to myself, feeling confident. I grabbed my leather jacket, humming along to one of the songs playing off my speaker in the background, before sitting down at my vanity to start finishing up with my hair and makeup. Lip-gloss and chaos in eyeliner.

When the uber had arrived at the house, I almost had to do a double take. It was pumping, the music could be heard from where I sat. There were cars lining up the road, some even driving slowly down the street to find parking. People were everywhere, lying on the grass in front of the house, a couple more on the steps leading up to the door (which could barely be seen anyway) and I couldn't imagine what it was going to be like inside. I heard a few cheers and splashes, from what I assume was the pool in the backyard. I turned to my side, my curls bouncing around me and looked at my best friend, Anna was already looking at me with wide eyes and an excited smile on her face. "Oh, this is going to be fun." She spoke, exiting the car and making it around, waiting for me.

I got out the car, slinging my bag over my shoulder. I stood next to her, and we were almost buzzing with excitement. "Let's get drunk!" I shouted, grabbing her hand and dragged her with me as I made my way to the entrance of the house.

The inside of this house party was even busier than outside. The lights in the hallway were on, but other lights were replaced with coloured Leds. The rap music was loud, I'm pretty sure that if you placed your hand on one of the thin walls, you could feel the bass. We made our way through the sea of people, scoping out the party. They had a beer pong table to the left with a couple of 'frat bro' looking dudes, some people dancing to the right, and more people squished in on any possible surface they could sit on. I mean, im pretty sure I saw someone using the big partybox speaker as a seat too. We said hello to some of the people we knew, stopping for some chit chat here and there before finally finding the kitchen.

It was quieter in here, not by much, but enough to make a difference. The warm overhead light was on, contrasting to the dark rooms and music around it. There were all kinds of bottles of liquor on the island, along with mismatched solo cups and a huge bowl of whatever-the-fuck kind of punch. I instantly reached for a cup, Anna going around and looking at what kind of liquor she felt like drinking. I grabbed a bottle of some off-brand liquor, and I poured some of the vodka into the solo cup and grabbed the cranberry mixer, looking around for some ice. I might be wild but not drinking warm alcohol wild. I found some in the bottom of the freezer, placing a few cubes into my plastic cup and taking a nice sip. I turned around, ready to move onto the dance floor, when BAM! I bashed into someone. Or rather, someone bashed into me.

It happened in seconds, my hands went flying, the red liquid had spilled all over the front of my shirt. "Shit, I'm so sorry-." The person began to speak, and my gaze went from my now pink stained shirt and up. "Watch where the fuck you're going!" I stated, loudly in fact, but my lips quickly sealed. Chris stood before me, but this time he looked a bit different. He had a bit of a beard growing, wearing a cap and a flannel over a graphic tee, some baggy jeans and some sneakers. His hair could not have changed that much over a few weeks, can it? "Chris?" I said, crossing my arms. Looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me what the hell this was for. "Oh, um no. I'm Matt." Chris's doppelgänger spoke and my eyes widened; this had to be a joke. He reached around me, grabbing a cloth and handing it to me. "I'm seriously so sorry about this-." He said, but I cut him off again. "It's whatever, Matt. Don't worry about it." I said, placing a hand on his shoulder with a pat and a tight-lipped smile, while wiping down some of the alcohol off my skin.

He looked awkward, standing there anxiously while trying to help fix my shirt. Anna came up to my side, "Matt?" She asked with a soft smile, coming up to hug him, wrapping her hands around his shoulders like it was natural. "How do you know the exact replica of Chris?" I asked, getting most of the stain out, rubbing the cloth into the shirt, hopeful that it was not to sheer and my bra wasn't showing, before setting it down on the counter next to me. They both turned to look at me, and both of their ears turned a flush pink color. "Matt is one of the triplets. Chris is his brother, the one I told you about. Nick must be around here somewhere too." She smiled, grabbing onto the top of Matt's arm almost like an old habit. He looked down at her, with a soft smile.

I scoffed, rolled my eyes at the two and turned around to my half empty cup. "Well, are we going to just stand here or get this party moving?" I said, looking at Anna before gulping the remainder of my drink. She rolled her eyes back at me with a playful smile, slapping her hand in mine and dragging me out the kitchen. We waved at Matt goodbye, which he mimicked with a small smirk.

One drink had turned into two, then four, and I needed a break. My feet were hurting from dancing in these boots, Anna had about 3 more tequila shots with Nick, who we met dancing on the makeshift colorful dancefloor, and we were now sitting smooshed between the two triplets on one of the old leather couches. It was hot, I couldn't tell if it was the environment around me, or the vodka in my veins, but I was feeling flushed and sticky. I groaned, placing my head on the back of the couch, fanning myself with an open palm. The conversation flowed around me between Nick, Matt and Anna, but I almost felt nauseous and didn't really feel like speaking. My leather jacket was folded messily across my lap, it almost felt like it was sticking to my skin.

I looked at Anna, patting her thigh and just mumbling a quick, "'M going outside, need a smoke." She nodded, taking my leather jacket from my hands after I had gotten up and kept it next to her, almost as a place maker. I smiled and shook my head, she's so funny. I swung my bag over my shoulder, shaking my head a few times to try and sober myself up even more. I was clearly buzzed, and I was almost jumping with joy when I found the sliding door leading out to the garden. There was a wooden deck, followed by its oak stairs down to the dark green grass. Some people were littered around, sharing multiple conversations across the brightly colored outdoor furniture. Not as busy as it was inside, quiet. Quieter.

The cool summer breeze was welcome, I scanned my eyes over everyone and wondered where I should sit, before ultimately moving to sit on the top of the oak stairs. I was about two steps down, before I plunked my ass on the wood, it creaked below me. I reached for my bag, pulling out the little leopard print bag, containing all my smoking accessories and grabbed a rolled cigarette and my sparkly red lighter, placing it between my lips before I lit the end, taking a deep breath of nicotine and tobacco and blowing it out into the air around me. I sighed, feeling happy with my drunk self, the nicotine buzz and how I was gazing quiet literally into nothingness. I was humming along to a song that was playing, not fully knowing the words. I had weed in my bag as well, but I really did not feel like getting cross-faded at some unknown person's house. I continued to smoke the cigarette, feeling lighter and easier by the second. The peace was quickly disturbed when someone had spoken from the bottom of the stairs.

"I was wondering when I was gon' bump into you." Chris, God, actually Chris this time, stood at the bottom of the oak stairs, one hand on the wooden rail, the other on his hip, almost like a mother that looked like she was ready to lecture. I wouldn't mind him lecturing me if he looked like that. He was wearing an orange hoodie, black baggy jeans, and the signature backwards black cap. I almost had to remind myself to breathe when our eyes made contact, it reminded me of when we first looked at each other. I placed a hand over my eyes and groaned, keeping the hand with the cigarette crossed across my knees. He chuckled at my reaction, making his way up the stairs, his hands now in his pockets.

He stopped short, standing tall on the step below mine while looking down at me with an amused smile. I slid my hand down my face, looking up at him. "Can I help you?" I crossed my arms over again, looking at him expectantly. He smirked, moving and sitting on the same step he was standing on, leaning against the one I was sat on. "Still as prissy as always, Princess." He said, placing the weight of his upper body against the wood, placing his one elbow back and resting his weight on it to face me. I looked down at him, pulling the cigarette to my lips again and taking a drag. He looked away, assuming to be looking at all the other people outside.

I offered it to him, which he then gently took from my fingertips and placed it in between his lips. I'm glad, it almost felt like a peace offering, the silence that surrounded us wasn't totally uncomfortable and the loud music could still be heard from inside the house. "You look like you've had a night and a half," I spoke, analyzing his face and seeing the slight red tint to his eyes. I got to really look at his gorgeous face this time, and it wasnt helping that I was a bit boozed. He lazily smiled up at me, before his eyes trailed up and down my own body. "So did you, what happened, danced to much, maybe fight with the Titos bottle?" His words nudged against my now pink stained baby tee. I looked down at it and huffed, rolling my eyes. "I met you two times tonight, before realizing you had a clan of clones." I grumbled, taking the cigarette back from him. He smirked once again, maintaining eye contact with me. "How are Matt and Nick? I haven't seen them all night."

Cocky bastard, I shook my head. "They've been with Anna and I, much more pleasant to be around." I snipped, taking the last drag of the cigarette before smashing the bud of the cigarette on the bottom of my shoe and tossing it. "At least I don't spill drinks on your shirt. That has Matt written all over it." He immediately snipped back. I almost wanted to smile at the banter. "Why are you outside?" I asked, leaning closer. "And why were you hiding in the garden? Still doing criminal shit I see." I spoke, a very slight slur to my words that I was hoping he didn't catch. He moved even closer, so close I could feel his body heat next to my legs. The vodka in my system, keeping me flush. Sure girl, blame the vodka.

"Aw, did ya' miss me princess?" That cheesy fucking smirk, "Get that look off your face before I do it myself." I huffed, placing my head in the palm of my hand, my elbow resting on my knee with a threatening glare. "And stop calling me that." He looked up at me, "Well, it's not like I've gotten a name from you yet." He shrugged, and the lack of urgency this man has, almost makes me mad. Not a care in the world. "So, you call all the girls whose names you don't know princess? Or am I special?" It was my turn to smirk.

Again, without a care in the world, he just lazily smiled up at me once again. "Nah, you're special and you know it." I let out a small laugh, before looking at him. His face went from a slight shocked to almost giddy in about 0.2 seconds. "I got a smile!" He cheered, making me roll my eyes and move to stand up. I placed my hands on my thighs and pushed up, "Alright, I'm done." I turned to make my way up the stairs. He scrambled to follow me, placing a gentle hand on my wrist, stopping me and turning me around.

He was the same height as me now, considering he was a step below me. "C'mon, I can make you smile but I can't get a name?" The look in his eyes was soft, the smile even softer but with a hint of mischief behind it. "Why do you need it that badly?" I questioned, not moving as my chest was rising and falling at a quicker pace. Maybe my heart was moving a bit faster than normal, but that's just because of the drinks I had right?

"You know, I'd like to know the name of my future ex-wife." He smirked, amused by how I scoffed. I rolled my eyes, before eventually breaking down at the sight of him.

"(Y/N)," I spoke, looking directly into his eyes. He said my name, repeated it even, before looking back at me and moving the hand that was on my wrist, now fully holding my own. His touch was gentle, but at the same time electrifying. I stuck my nose up, with another expectant look on my face. What was he playing at?

"Suits you." He complimented, giving me a quick squeeze with this fingertips. I slapped his hand away, "Careful there, Sucker. Might look like you're into me or something. Go back to being a thug or whatever." I teased, pushing on his shoulder slightly and turning around to make my way back into the house. I didn't need to turn around in order to know that he was following me.

I stopped at the entrance of the sliding door, placing a hand on the door frame and looking over my shoulder at him. "Hello? Why are you following me?" I asked skeptically, fully expecting him to just turn around and go back to where he came from.

He leaned closer, trying to get up in my business. "Not everything revolves around you princess." He had a tight-lipped smile, looking over my shoulder at someone and nodding his head in a direction behind him. "I'm just, what did you say, 'being a thug?'" He replied, placing his hand on my waist and started pulling me out the way of the doorframe before a bunch of his friends had come through like barbarians. Before I could say anything, he was halfway down the stairs with the rest of them. I crossed my arms, wanting to slap this boy and before I could say anything, he threw a wink over his shoulder.

I let out a gruntle of frustration, before trudging back into the house and back towards my best friend. What have I gotten myself into?

a/n: WOOOWW guys! how are we liking it so far? im loving the cheeky banter between these two its UGH so good.

tags -> @chrispycremedonut @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @iluvchr1s @passionfruitchris