st2rnq

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princess matt ♡ 𓂃 💞💖💝💗💗💝💖💞💗💝💝

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someone get this man a cat 😞

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so like can y’all write more abt clingybf!matt but he’s like pathetically attached and needy but not in a freaky way like pls i need more fluffs 😞😞 tag me

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you have such a good taste in music omg

thank u so muchh that’s the best compliment 💝💝

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please y’all have to write more like these.

IS THIS FAKE? (pt. 4) - M.S.

IN WHICH... matt and reader start fake dating. no feelings attached…... right?

SERIES CONTENTS... fake relationship. cursing. kissing. angst. fluff. probably more idk!

you hold hands in the cafeteria. sit too close at parties. his arm always ends up slung over the back of your chair. your knees bump under tables. you pretend to laugh at his dumb jokes, like this whole thing is just a game you’re both too good at playing.

he’s too good at it, actually. he brushes your hair from your face like he’s rehearsed it. like it’s second nature. you roll your eyes every time. tell him to quit being dramatic. but you never move his hand away.

then you start noticing things. the way he taps his pen when he’s nervous, not fast, not frantic, just this steady little rhythm against his notebook. the kind of thing you wouldn’t even catch unless you were watching. the way he says your name softer when you’re alone. like it means something different in the quiet. like it matters.

and it’s annoying.

it’s annoying that you notice. it’s annoying that you even care. it’s annoying that sometimes, when he’s not even looking, your eyes still find him across a room.

you’re supposed to be faking it. pretending. but there’s something oddly sweet in the way he lingers after walking you home, fingers brushing yours like he’s waiting for you to say stay.

you never say it. not out loud. but you don’t let go of his hand either.

one night, he walks you home.

it’s not planned he just falls into step beside you after another fake date to post on social media. his hands are shoved in his hoodie pocket, his voice low and tired in the way it always is after midnight.

you walk in comfortable silence all the way to your porch, and when you sit on the steps, he does too.

you don’t tell him to leave.

no one’s watching. no one to post it. no reason to fake it now.

he leans back on his elbows, staring up at the stars. “what were you like,” he says, “before everyone thought you were scary?”

you scoff. “what makes you think i’m not still?”

“you’re not,” he says easily. “they just don’t know you.”

you don’t respond right away. just pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on top. the night hums around you, soft and still.

“i used to draw,” you say finally. “like… a lot. my mom said i was quiet as a kid, but if you gave me crayons, i’d cover the whole wall.”

he grins. “you were that kid.”

“yeah.” you smile, but it’s small. “i used to leave little cartoons on the fridge. made up stories about made-up people who always stayed.”

he notices the shift in your voice. the way it cracks around the word stayed.

you don’t usually talk about it. but tonight feels different. open.

“he left on a tuesday,” you say. “my dad. he packed one suitcase. didn’t even say goodbye to me. just… walked out. i came home from school and his stuff was gone. my mom said he needed time to figure things out, but it’s been six years.”

his face softens. he doesn’t say i’m sorry. you’re glad for that. you hate pity.

“i waited every day for a letter. a call. something. i used to check the mailbox like it was a ritual. i thought maybe he got lost, maybe he just forgot my number.”

you laugh once, but it’s bitter. “eventually, i stopped hoping. it was easier to be angry than sad.”

he doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt. he just looks at you like none of this scares him. like he sees the sharp edges and still wants to be close.

“that’s when people started calling me scary,” you say. “i stopped smiling as much. stopped letting people in. figured if you keep everyone out, no one can leave.”

a breeze moves through the porch. your hair falls into your face, and without thinking, he tucks it gently behind your ear. he doesn’t interrupt. doesn’t crack a joke or look away. he just listens. really listens. that scares you more than anything. his listening feels like the first thing that’s stayed.

“thanks for telling me,” he says quietly. “even if you hate it.”

“i don’t hate it,” your eyes meet his.

“hey.”

you look over at him, his eyes soft. he brings a hand up to grab yours.

“y/n, i’m not leaving any time soon.”

you hate it. you hate how gentle his eyes get, hate how quiet he stays, hate how much it matters, because this was supposed to be pretend. now he’s looking at you like you’re real, and you don’t know what to do with that.

a/n: i fed you two parts the other day so i took a day off 😛😛

tags!: @h8aaz @auttysturnz @katiebae333 @ladyatwalmart @izzylovesmatt @stonermattsgf @ineedchrissturniolo @deathst6r @zniyadgaf @whore4chris @matts-hersheys-kisses @courta13 @sturnslux3

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welcome to my page !! read the carrd byf <33