𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒶

    ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ɴᴇᴡ ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴍᴀɴʜᴀᴛᴛᴀɴ

↳ contains: rumours, mild teasing/flirting

↳ word count: 𝟽𝟻𝟺

↳ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs & ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

Third day at Constance Billard, and somehow you’d already managed to make a fool of yourself, fighting with the tiny lock on your locker.

The numbers refused to click, your fingers slipping in frustration.

“Need a hand?” a voice asked, deep and teasing.

You glanced up just as someone leaned down, and bonk.

“Ow,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead with a small glare.

Standing in front of you was a boy with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, looking just as startled.

“That hurt,” he said under his breath, pressing a hand to his own head.

It should’ve been awkward. You should’ve laughed it off, walked away, maybe apologized.

But you didn’t. Neither did he.

Instead, his lips curved into a grin. “You must be the new girl everyone’s been talking about.”

You blinked. “Everyone?”

“Word travels fast around here,” he said, finally clicking your stubborn lock open with ease. “Chris Sturniolo.”

The name clicked faster than your locker did. The Sturniolos—Manhattan royalty.

Their family name was tied to luxury hotels, a few art galleries, and more zeroes than you could imagine.

“Y/N,” you said quietly, though you knew he already knew.

“Yeah, I figured.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, looking you up and down in a way that wasn’t rude, just curious.

And maybe a little appreciative.

“Come on. You’re new, which means you probably have no idea where anything is. I’ll show you to class.”

He wasn’t wrong.

You followed him through the bustling hallways, the sound of designer shoes and whispered gossip everywhere around you.

He pointed out classrooms, teachers to avoid, and the best cafeteria snacks, talking with that confidence of someone who knew exactly who he was.

“So,” he said as you reached the grand marble staircase, “are all new girls this cute, or is it just you?”

You raised a brow, answering a question with a question. “Do you flirt with every transfer student, or am I just lucky?”

Chris’s grin widened. “Depends. Are you gonna tell me to stop?”

Before you could answer, another voice chimed in. “Oh God, you’re already bothering her?”

A boy who looked just like Chris, except his hair was lighter and his smile softer, appeared beside him.

“Nick,” Chris sighed, “don’t start.”

“I’m saving her from you,” Nick said, then turned to you.

“Sorry about him. He likes to think he’s the school tour guide, but really, he just likes showing off.”

You laughed, instantly liking him.

You walked together, the conversation flowing easily. Nick was quick-witted, funny, and surprisingly open.

You learned he was into fashion, that his brother drove him insane, and that he hated being lumped in with the triplet thing sometimes.

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering. “There’s three of you, right?”

Both boys exchanged a look.

“Yeah,” Chris said after a pause. “Matt. He’s… not around right now.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “He’s in bootcamp.”

“Bootcamp?” you echoed.

“Yeah,” Chris said, a hint of something unreadable in his tone.

“Matt’s always been the… adventurous one.”

You didn’t push, but curiosity lingered.

The Sturniolo brothers, perfect smiles, perfect lives, yet there was already a crack in the story.

By the time the day ended, Chris had somehow convinced you to sit with them at lunch, Nick had followed you on Instagram, and half the school had already started whispering your name.

That night, you took your everything shower, the kind that washed away the day, the noise, the stares, and collapsed into bed, phone in hand.

Your screen lit up. A notification.

@gossipgirlmnyc tagged you in a post.

You raise a curious brow, opening it. Who the hell is Gossip Girl?

The photo was a candid, grainy but obvious.

You and Chris in the hallway, his hand brushing against your arm, both smiling.

The caption:

Looks like Manhattan’s favorite flirt found his next obsession. New girl, new drama. Could it be love, or just another Sturniolo scandal?

XOXO, Gossip Girl.

Your stomach dropped.

The post already had hundreds of likes, the comments exploding beneath it.

danisblurbs: the beginning of a new series?? i told you guys it was coming… what do we think??

powered by my favourite delusions, daniella ✎𓂃

ᴀᴅᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ABOVE ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴛᴜɴᴇᴅ!

↳ contains: praise kink, minimal swearing, semi public setting, fingering, slight overstimulation, unprotected p in v, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart)

↳ in which… matt teaches you a lesson in the barn, and it isn’t about how to scrub the horses this time. (this might be a prologue?)

↳ main taglist | masterlist | dividers by @chrisssiren

Matt stands a few feet away, hand on the flank of a chestnut mare, watching you fumble with the brush. “You’re holdin’ it too tight,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ll spook her like that.”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “It’s just a brush.”

“Not to her.” He moves behind you, reaching around to guide your hand. His fingers curve over yours, showing you the right pressure, the right rhythm.

Your pulse skips. His chest brushes your back when he leans in, his voice close enough that you can feel it.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “Gentle. She don’t like it rough unless she trusts you.”

The barn went silent, except for the unbothered huffs of the mares and clucking chickens.

“Quit steppin’ on my boots?” He mutters, but not really upset. Then a thought comes to mind, his grin returning. The grin that hinted at both mischief and something that made you weak in the knees.

Your heart begins to thump loudly in your ears again. “Right, sorry. Just really cramped in here...”

Matt’s breath is hot against the side of your neck. “Think i’ve got a bit of mud on my face, mind checking for me?” But as soon as you turn your head, he leans in and kisses you.

For a moment, you’re frozen. Unsure what the absolute fuck to think about this.

To your surprise, you don’t pull away. You turn to face him, and the kiss breaks for just a moment.

Not because you’re out of breath, but because you’re still processing. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Guess I did. What, did I smudge your lip gloss?”

You don’t answer. You just dip forward, lips pressed to his again and this time, neither of you are pulling away.

One of his hands move up to yours, taking the scrub from it and placing it down in the washing bucket.

It slowly slides back up your arm, your shoulder, and into your hair from the nape of your neck. His other hand placed on your hip, fingertips slightly pressed into you.

The kiss deepens a little before his lips brush your jaw, then your neck, his breath warm and shaky as he starts pressing kisses to your skin.

Gentle and slow, he walks you back until you’re pinned against one of the barn doors. His hands move swiftly to lift your shirt up.

As you allow him, he tugs it off and discards it to the ground, a mess of hay and grass dragged in by your boots. He’d told you they weren’t the right material, but fashion comes first.

“You sure you want this?” Matt asks you the question, even though he knows you won’t say no. So when you nod, he doesn’t hesitate to let you remove his own shirt.

Before the two of you knew it, you’re stripped almost completely, and he’s pressed up against you, two fingers rubbing against your slit.

The fabric damp and wearing, you aren’t ready when he pull your panties down and plunges both fingers into you.

A sharp gasp escapes you as he stretches you out with just his fingers, but not giving you at all what you need.

He’s enjoying this. Toying with you as if you’re a puzzle he can ruin and put together over and over again.

“Matt, please..” You whine between ragged breaths and quiet moans. “it’s too much.”

“Too much?” He laughs softly. He doesn’t stop just yet, not when he’s adding a third finger, speeding up the process a little, pushing his digits deeper into you.

“We’re just getting started, pretty girl.”

Your eyes roll back as he finds your g-spot, instinctively moving your hips forward. Matt groans at your movements, your soft gasps and moans. “Just a little more, you can take it.”

His three digits pump in and out of you with practiced speed, and you throb around his fingers violently, your back arching against the dark wood of the barn door.

“Can feel you getting close.” His lips find yours again, and you’d never guess this would be happening. “Y’wanna come on my fingers? In a barn, sweetheart?”

Before you could even process anything else, the band in your stomach snapped. A broken moan falls past your lips as Matt drags out your orgasm with his digits.

Overstimulated, you don’t expect much else.

Not until he spins you around in one careful motion. You should’ve stopped him, should’ve released yourself from his grasp.

But there’s a difference between what you should do, and what you want.

You want Matt’s rather large hard-on wrecking your guts.

Your thighs are shaky and he doesn’t give you much longer than a minute before his hands grasped gently at your hips, his own thrusting forward and pushing into you.

A rough whine comes out of you, fingers curling around the edge of the barn door.

Your nails are slightly cracked from the horse-scrubbing, now this. But for the first time in your entire city-lifestyle, you don’t care.

You care that this very hot cowboy is inching deeper into you.

One thrust after another, they’re slow but eager. As he begins to speed up a little, his fingers grip your hips more firm than before.

The come you’d released onto his fingers had smeared slightly on your bare hip, but neither of you seemed to notice. “Fuuuckkk. Takin’ me so good, Y/N…”

By now, you can’t even count how many times you’ve begged for more. The barn door creaks slightly, your cheeks blistering with a faint red blush as Matt pounds into your ass faster than you thought you could take it.

“Any of your little uptown boyfriends make you feel this good?” he pants roughly against your skin.

His head rests against the side of your neck, not slowing down for a second. “Bet they don’t. Not like me, yeah?”

With every snap of his hips, his dick throbbed inside you achingly. “Not like you,” You reply, your voice more of a high-pitched moan than a sentence. “Gonna come soon.”

Matt grins a little through his parted lips and racing heart. “Again? Quick, ain’t you?” The words are teasing, meant to make your chest pound painfully. And they do.

“Say it. Say i’m better than them prissy city boys.”

“You’re better, Matt,” The words choke out quicker than you thought, especially as his tip kisses your cerevix with each deep thrust now. “You’re better than the city boys.”

That’s enough to push him over. His come spills into you, deep and messy as you break through yet another intense orgasm.

As the two of you ride it out slightly, your hips roll back against his. “Knew you’d come around. From the moment you arrived in that pretty little sundress a few weeks ago. Knew you’d beg for me, want me just as much as I wanted you this entire time.”

“Maybe you just like feeling so great about yourself.” Your cheeks burn, nails dug completely into the wood as you try to grasp some stability.

Matt’s hands move up to your frizzing hair, thanks to cowboy over here. “Maybe I do. And maybe I should teach you more lessons in this barn. Call the next one Round Two.”

You turn around to smack him playfully and he laughs. But you don’t reject his offer.

danisblurbs: kinda into this, but i also kinda dislike it. kinda requested by my twin @itsnotelena ily my queenn

powered by my favourite delusions, daniella ✎𓂃

↳ contains: rough sex, spanking, unprotected p in v, stuffed animal kink, toy play

↳ in which… mr.wrinkleton reminds you of matt, and he catches you humping the stuffed animal.

↳ main taglist | masterlist | dividers by @chrisssiren

Matt’s been live for over an hour, maybe two.

The glow from his monitor flickers against his face, setting the room in a soft blue haze. He genuinely laughs every now and then, loud and easy.

Meant for the people on the other side of the screen, not for you.

You’re on Chris’ bed, half-lying against the pillows, watching him. He’d been on live with Chris the entire time, but he ran out to get another case of pepsi’s from the shop down the road.

Matt’s headset sits crooked in his hair, one curl sticking up in the back from where you ran your fingers through it earlier, back when he still cared to look at you.

Now he’s focused, his jaw tight and his eyebrows furrowed, mumbling things you don’t even try to understand.

“Matt,” you say softly.

He hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t look.

You wait. “You’ve been on for a while.”

“Yeah, I know. One more game,” he says, fingers moving quick across the controller.

You roll your eyes and exhale. You try again, quieter this time, a plea hidden in your tone. “You said that thirty minutes ago.”

He doesn’t respond.

Your patience thins with every second. You shift on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest, staring at the side of his face like that might be enough to make him turn toward you.

But he doesn’t. He’s laughing again, about something someone said in the chat, and that makes you feel invisible in the worst way.

When he finally glances over, it’s because you’ve sighed a little too loud. “You okay?” he asks, still half in his game.

You tilt your head, meeting his eyes for a second before looking away. “You’d notice if you actually looked at me for more than two seconds.”

You press your lips together, swallowing what you want to say next.

He shrugs, turning back to the screen like the conversation’s over. That’s what makes you move.

You slide off the bed, the sheets rustling, and he finally looks again. “Where are you going?”

“Your room,” you say, trying not to sound as frustrated as you feel. It’d originally been his room, and you still refer to it as his on camera, but you practically lived with them. Including sleeping in his room, making it not just his room anymore.

“Why?”

“Because maybe the walls there don’t have to listen to you yell into a headset.”

He laughs, but it’s uncertain this time. “You’re mad?”

He watches you for a second longer, eyes trailing after you as you step out. “You could’ve just stayed,” he says, almost under his breath.

“Maybe if you’d given me a reason to,” you reply, and close the door gently behind you.

Matt’s room feels colder, quieter. You can still hear faint sounds of his voice through the wall, muffled and distant. For the first time all night, you let yourself think about what might get his attention if you wanted it badly enough.

As you step forward into the room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click, your eyes fix on a stuffed pug on his unmade bed. He kept the thing in great condition, for someone who’s had it for years.

It’d been his favourite stuffed animal, and you couldn’t stop yourself from the thoughts entering your head. He might get turned off. He might get turned on. Either way, you take your chances.

With caution, your fingers curl around your shorts as you slide them down. After pulling them to the side, along with your panties, you turn back to the bed, nervous. This is terribly wrong, but you can’t find it in you to care enough.

You tell yourself to stop worrying as you settle Mr. Wrinkleton between your thighs, breath shaky with anticipation and nerves. But as you begin moving your hips slowly, you find an odd sense of pleasure.

The soft fabric of the stuffed animal drags against your aching clit over and over again, making you gasp loudly. Your breaths become a little ragged as your pace picks up, eyes fluttering shut as you pictured Matt.

His name slips out once or twice, and you grasp the sheets a little bit, right by the small damp spot forming on them.

Just then, the doorknob twists slowly and you can’t bring yourself to stop. Not now, not when you’re so close.

Matt stands at the foot of the doorway, his eyes fixed on the sight in front of him. His fingers curl tight around the headset in his hand, frustration blistering inside him. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t getting hard at the scene.

“Y/N,” his voice comes out, cracked and annoyed. “what the hell are you doing?”

Your breath catches in your throat, your cunt throbs with need, and you immediately pull the stuffed animal away from you.

Heart pounding in your chest, you struggle to explain. “I-I was just—” he easily cuts you off.

“Just humping Mr. Wrinkleton, my childhood best friend?” Matt steps closer to the bed, slow and furious.

“I know it looks bad, but—” he interrupts you again.

“No buts,” He starts, tugging his shirt overhead and dropping it to the side of the bed. His headset falls onto his desk with a soft thunk. “you wanted attention, and now you’re gonna get it.”

His hands move to his jeans, undoing his belt, movements quick and impatient. As soon as he’s completely undressed, he flips you onto your back. His hands slide up and down your thighs, eyes filled with lust. “Couldn’t wait another twenty minutes?”

Before you have the chance to respond, he pushes two fingers into you, deep and brutal. He pumps them in and out of you, steady but giving you no time to even think.

It gets an eager moan out of you, making you pant out his name and easily forget what he’d even asked. “Matt—” your hips speak for themselves, rocking a little as he speeds up the pace.

“Nuh-uh. Stay still.” he mutters, sounding more frustrated than he is. He doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t say much else. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” He curls his digits inside you, stretching you out.

Your voice cracks with another desperate sound, and you nod rapidly as you get closer to the edge. “Good. ‘Cause you’ll get what you want. But we’re doing this my way.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Because deep down, you wouldn’t ever refuse that. His other hand grips your hip to steady his movements. With his fingers alone, you release around them.

Just as you do, Matt buries himself inside you without much warning. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, nor to process the fact that he’s so deep inside you. You squirm a little, still incredibly sensitive from your last orgasm not even a minute ago.

The front door down the hallway opens and shuts, Chris’ voice filling the house. But Matt doesn’t stop.

He grabs your hips pulling her back in with every thrust. He’s slow, but deep and much more than you thought you could take. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, doesn’t pick up the pace.

Then he hits a sensitive spot inside you—the one that made your eyes roll back and your gasps turn into intense broken moans.

The moment he hears you, he breaks. His fingertips grip into your hips tightly, filling you completely and pounding into you relentlessly.

He leans down, lips almost pressing against your ear, his breaths heavy and unsteady as the bed begins to creak beneath your weight. “What’s better? Me, or my fuckin’ stuffed animal, huh?”

“You, Matt,” You whimper out, your back arching as you begin to reach the edge again.

“Louder.” He grunts, delivering a sharp smack to your ass and pushing for his own climax. “C’mon, louder.”

“You’re better, Matt!” You try again, the sound somewhere between a moan and a high-pitched gasp. Releasing around his cock, Matt moans, deep and scratchy as he pauses. Still inside you completely, he bursts.

He collapses beside you, panting heavily. He turns to you, shaky legs and ragged breaths. “You better not have ruined Mr. Wrinkleton.”

“I was careful with him, I swear.” You laugh a little at his genuine concern.

“You better’ve been.” He murmurs threateningly, but grinning like he’s joking.

danisblurbs: trying a new layout… do we like it? also second smut!! hope you guys enjoy, and i hope this shit doesn’t get six notes maximum 😭 ily guys sm

powered by my favourite delusions, daniella ✎𓂃

↳ contains: heartbreak, manipulation, regret, neglect, alcohol/club setting, angsty/guilt

↳ in which… you deserve much better than matt, who doesn’t even care to fight for you anymore.

↳ marathon taglist and album tracks

You used to think Matt was the one.

The kind of love that lasts, the kind that makes you believe in forever.

He was gentle in ways no one else had ever been, always showing up, always caring.

He used to hold your hand like it was everything, used to whisper things that made your chest ache in the best way.

He’d drive through rain just to see you for a few hours. He’d text you in the middle of the day just to say he was thinking about you.

For a while, it felt like you were both running toward something. Something that was real.

But then he stopped.

It wasn’t sudden. It was slow, so slow you almost didn’t notice until it was too late.

The calls turned shorter, the texts got delayed, the conversations went quiet. He started canceling plans more often than keeping them.

And when you did see him, he seemed distracted, like his mind was somewhere else.

One night, you sat in his car after another half-hearted date. The air was still and tense.

You stared out the window, watching the rain slide down the glass, before finally speaking your mind.

“Matt,” you started quietly, “do you even want to be here anymore?”

He looked over at you, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t try anymore,” you said.

“You don’t text back, you barely talk to me, you’re always somewhere else. I shouldn’t have to beg the person I love to care.”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He looked down at his hands, then back up at you, guilt filling in his eyes. “I just… I’ve been busy. Things got—”

“Complicated?” you cut in. “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me that excuse a thousand times this week. But I’m not asking for much, Matt. I’m asking for you.”

He was silent. And that silence told you everything you needed to know.

You sighed and unbuckled your seatbelt. “I can’t do this anymore. I deserve better. I deserve someone who wants to be here.”

“Wait,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “You’re ending this?”

“I’m ending what’s already over.”

You opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.

He didn’t follow you. And that was how you knew you’d made the right choice.

Weeks passed.

The space inside you that used to be filled with him became quiet again.

But you learned to fill it with laughter and the kind of friends who reminded you what happiness felt like.

That’s how you ended up at the club on a Friday night, with music vibrating through the floor and lights flickering across faces.

You were wearing something that made you feel confident and untouchable.

You weren’t thinking about Matt anymore.

Until you saw him.

He stood near the entrance, scanning the crowd, eyes landing on you. He looked rough.

Hair a mess, tired eyes, that same hoodie you’d once stolen and never given back.

You froze for a second, but then you turned back to your friend, trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

Let me tell you something, it didn’t work.

A few minutes later, you felt someone behind you, and when you turned, he was standing there.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

You hesitated. “Now?”

“Please,” he said, baby blues filled with desperation. “Just five minutes.”

You followed him out to the quieter hallway near the bathrooms, crossing your arms as you faced him.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “I messed up,” he said quickly. “I didn’t realize what I had until you were gone. You were right, I stopped trying. I got too comfortable, I thought you’d always be there.”

You stared at him, trying to find the words. “Do you want me to feel sorry for you?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I just want you to know I still love you.”

“You can’t say that now. You had every chance to love me when it mattered, and you didn’t.”

He stepped closer, his eyes softening. “I didn’t know how bad it got until you weren’t answering my calls. I miss you, I miss us. I’d do anything to fix it.”

You shook your head. “You can’t fix something you let die.”

He flinched like the words hit him physically. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you said, your voice steady but your heart pounding. “I cared so much it hurt. I tried until I had nothing left to give. And when I finally stopped, you noticed. But that’s not love, Matt. That’s regret.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched and his eyes filled with tears threatening to fall. “I just— I thought we had forever.”

“We could have, if you’d fought for it.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The hallway thumped faintly with the muffled sounds of the club behind you.

Then you took a breath, walking back into the club.

You didn’t think you’d be dancing like you couldn’t be bothered, while it screws him up hard.

He stayed behind, watching you disappear into the crowd, realizing that no amount of apologies would bring back what he’d taken for granted.

And for the first time, he understood what it really meant to lose someone for good.

But you’re pretty and worth it. Your feelings won’t be hurting, and you won’t stay if it isn’t working.

Because with him, you had blood on your hands.

danisblurbs: sorry for the delay of fanfics! heres one of my favourite songs in the album and remember, you’re pretty and worth it.

powered by my favourite delusions, daniella ✎𓂃

↳ contains: age gap, sisters boyfriend dynamic, kinda sexual tension, partial nudity, minor swearing

↳ in which… little-sister!reader walks in on older-sisters-boyfriend!matt and immediately regret every life choice that led you to finding him in just a towel.

↳ parts: one 𝜗ৎ two 𝜗ৎ

It isn’t your fault Matt Sturniolo happens to be the hottest college student to exist.

The problem?

He’s your older sister’s boyfriend, and he practically lives in your house.

His mom works night shifts as a nurse, so he’s always here. And of course, Chris and Nick tag along too—meaning your kitchen, your living room, your entire space is basically overrun with them.

Most of the time, it’s fine. You blend in. You joke with Nick, watch dumb videos with Chris, and pretend Matt doesn’t exist.

Even though he’s impossible not to notice. Even though your stupid eyes catch him staring back every time you accidentally look too long.

But tonight? Tonight’s different.

You’re about to push open the bathroom door when it swings open first.

And suddenly Matt’s standing there—hair dripping from the shower, towel hanging way too low on his hips.

You freeze. He blinks, mutters a quiet “shit—sorry. didn’t think anyone was waiting.”

Your throat feels dry, but the words slip out anyway.

“Guess you thought wrong,” Your eyes refuse to leave the water still dripping down his chest.

Matt huffs a laugh, nervous, shifting his grip on the towel. “Didn’t mean to… y’know—”

“Walk out practically naked in the middle of my hallway?” you interrupt, trying to make it a joke.

Matt shifts, one hand tightening on the towel, water still dripping from his hair. There’s the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Could’ve been worse,” he says, shrugging. “At least I answered the door dressed this time.”

Your eyes widen. “This time?”

He laughs under his breath, tilting his head. “Kidding. Unless you’re disappointed?”

Cheeks flushing beet red, you immediately shake your head, the biggest lie you’ve ever held. “God, no! Gross, you’re like, three years older than me!”

Matt raises a brow. “Relax,” he says quietly, stepping past you, the heat of his damp skin brushing your arm for just a second. “Hope we meet like this again sometime.”

And just like that, he disappears down the hall.

You quickly turn around, but he’s already gone.

What did he just say?

danisblurbs: matt won the votes so voila and have a great wednesday!

powered by my favourite delusions, daniella ✎𓂃

↳ contains: mild swearing/banter, enemies to lovers dynamic, kinda physical touch, mentions of travel/long bus ride

↳ in which… enemy!matt finds “his spot” stolen on the senior trip bus ride to italy, and somehow ends up not strangling you fourty-five minutes in.

The bus smelled faintly of leather seats and too much Axe body spray, chatter filling the aisle as everyone shoved their bags overhead.

You were already sprawled in a window seat, earbuds in, content for the next three hours of this senior end-of-year trip to Italy.

And then the one person you never got along with since the third grade shows up. Matt’s shadow fell over you.

“You’re in my seat.”

You tugged an earbud out. “Excuse me?”

“My seat. Every field trip since, like, freshman year. I sit here.” His arms were crossed, expression stubborn, as if you should’ve known this sudden rule.

You raised an eyebrow. “What, does the seat have your name engraved on it?”

“It might as well,” he shot back. “Move.”

“Not happening,” you said sweetly, leaning back and clicking your seatbelt just to prove a point.

For a second, you thought he might actually try to fight you for it. But instead, with an annoyed grumble, he dropped into the empty spot beside you, bumping your knee on purpose as he shoved his backpack under the seat.

The first hour was spent sniping at each other.

“Can you stop breathing so loud?”

“Can you stop existing?”

“You drool in your sleep, don’t you?”

“Only when I dream about strangling you.”

Somewhere between the lines of muttered curses and the driver blasting way too much AC, the bickering started to fade.

His shoulder kept bumping yours every time the bus hit a pothole, and after a while, the steady rhythm of the ride was enough to finally shut him up.

You glanced over, prepared with some new jab about how his hair looked like he lost a fight with the wind—only to see his eyes closed. His head had tilted sideways, resting against you, dark curls brushing your shoulder.

Your first instinct was to shove him off. But you didn’t.

Instead, you stayed completely still, heart thumping louder than it should have.

He looked different like this—peaceful, soft, and not the scowling asshole who usually tugged your hair from behind you in class.

Maybe just this once, you shouldn’t wake him. And not just because he’s finally stopped talking, but because for some confusing reason, you liked this.

And the way his hand unconsciously reaches for your shirt to clutch like a stuffed animal, shows that he might just have the same thought.

danisblurbs: first matt fic, i personally really like this one!

powered by my favourite delusions, daniella ✎𓂃