mattysvamp

The sun was beginning to drop below the walls of the castle when the gates creaked open. The wind was tinged with a subtle smell of smoke and metal, the remnants of battle brought back on the evening wind. You remained in the courtyard, twisting your hands in the folds of your gown, waiting for any sign of him.

And then you saw him — Sir Matthew, his armor dusty and speckled with blood that was not all his own. He rode slowly, his haughty bearing slightly sagging, his eyes heavy with the weight of the day. When at last his eyes met yours, the corner of his mouth softened into the barest, worn smile.

"Your Highness," he replied, his voice thick with weariness. "It's done. The bandits will not be troubling the villages again."

You hastened to his side, helping him down before the stable boys could intervene. As his boots touched the ground, he winced — a tiny noise that made your heart curdle. His sleeve was torn, and already you could see the long, crimson line down his arm.

"Matthew," you breathed, taking him into the small room off the central hall, the one where you normally kept herbs and bandages. "You're wounded"

"It's nothing," he said, even though the fact that he was clutching his side to you was a giveaway. "Just a few bruises. You should see the rest of the lads. I'll be all right."

He attempted to laugh, but the result sounded more like a sigh of relief than humor. You sat him down on the wooden bench, removing his battered gauntlets and placing them aside. His hands were calloused, the warmth of them beneath yours — the hands of a man who had both wielded a sword and your trust for years.

You had brought a bowl of water, the smooth skin rippling as you drew a cloth into it. Pressing it against the wound on his arm, he hissed gently, but didn't move away.

"So," you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady, "about this 'small' battle."

He leaned back, lids falling over his eyes as he spoke. "We ambushed them in the valley by the river, No more than a dozen, but they fought like trapped animals. The captain tried to escape when we trapped them — didn't get very far." His tone darkened a little, then eased. "Wish you could've seen it, though. The sun rising over the fields — it almost didn't look like war for a second. Just light and fog and. silence."

You smiled faintly, wringing out the cloth and moving forward to clean the shallow gash along his jaw. "You always catch the quiet," you said.

He smiled softly. "That's because I don't get much of it.

"Neither of you two spoke for some time. All sounds were the soft dripping of water and the soft cadence of his breathing. His eyes followed your movements, serene now, as if the presence of you stilled the agony beneath his armor.

When at last you had tied the last bandage, he brushed his fingers over yours, his hand touching yours. "You shouldn't have to do that," he said quietly. "It's not work a princess should do."

You looked up at him, into his tired but honest eyes. "It's not work," you said quietly. "It's care. And you're worth it."

For a heartbeat, the room was utterly silent — the war, the blood, the kingdom beyond the stone walls all falling away into nothingness.Then he smiled, less harshly this time, and breathed, "If you say so, my lady."

You smiled and smoothed a lock of hair back from his forehead. "Sleep now, Sir Matthew. Tomorrow perhaps you will be a knight again. Tonight, just. breathe."

And for once, he did.

Hey guys so I really HATE this but I made this like half asleep and also not proofread so it's probably actually bad, anyways

Matt had been talking about pumpkin picking all week. The autumn air was crisp, the sky washed in soft gold, and you could smell leaves and wood smoke on the breeze. When he knocked on your door that morning, scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, his grin was brighter than the October sun, "you ready?"

The drive out to the farm was quiet in that comfortable way, the radio low, his hand brushing yours on the console. Rows upon rows of pumpkins stretched across the field like tiny orange moons resting on a bed of vines. You both wandered between them, debating which ones had “personality,” pointing out the lopsided ones, or the ones so large they looked impossible to carry.

Matt kept pointing at the misshaped and funny looking pumpkins. “This one looks like it’s seen things,” he whispered about a particularly lumpy one. You laughed so hard you almost fell over.

At one point, Matthew knelt and held up a small round pumpkin. “This one’s you,” he said, teasing. “Perfectly cute.” You rolled your eyes but tucked it into your basket. Later, you found one for him, a tall, pear shaped pumpkin that he claimed had character.

With the pumpkins in hand and cheeks flushed from the cold, you returned to his place. The kitchen smelled faintly of cinnamon from the cider he put on the stove. You both laid out newspapers on the table, the pumpkins sitting proudly in front of you like little orange guests.

You both drew on the faces first before carving them in, Matt making exaggerated guesses about what you were creating. “Is it a ghost? A cat? A mysterious blob?” he joked. You peeked at his pumpkin and laughed at the uneven eyes he swore were on purpose.

When it came time to open them, you grabbed your carving tools and cut into yours, the scent of fresh pumpkin filling the air. The insides were soft and stringy, just as they should be. You scooped seeds into a bowl, ready to roast them later.

Matthew, whistling, sliced the top off his. But when he lifted it, the sound of his voice stopped midnote. Inside the pumpkin, the flesh was mottled with patches of gray-green mold, the texture soft and damp. The smell hit a moment later, sharp and sour.

“Oh no,” he groaned, leaning back. “I think my pumpkin’s haunted.”

You stepped closer, wrinkling your nose but laughing anyway. “God that's disgusting.”

“Guess I should’ve picked a less Ugly one,” he said, grinning sheepishly as you handed him a paper towel. Even the ruined pumpkin couldn’t ruin the mood. The moment turned sweeter instead the two of you trying to rescue what you could from the moldy disaster, joking about how it probably grew in some cursed patch of soil.

By the time the sun slipped low, the table was scattered with seeds and curling strips of pumpkin skin. Your finished pumpkin smiled with big round eyes, a huge smile and a tiny heart-shaped nose. Matt's pumpkin beamed with a goofy, crooked grin. He placed a tea-light inside each one and turned off the lights.

The glow from the pumpkins lit your faces in warm gold. You realized then how nice it felt, the quiet after laughter, the smell of pumpkin and cider, and the way Matt kept smiling like he wanted this moment to last forever.

Outside, the cold wind rattled fallen leaves against the window, but in that room, it was nothing but warmth.

A little bit of fluff just for fun🤗

The moon hung heavy over the quiet town of Northbridge, painting the streets in silver. Y/N had always liked walking home late — the stillness, the whisper of wind through the trees, the way the world felt like it was holding its breath. That night, though, she wasn’t alone.

He walked beside her.Matthew Sturniolo — pale, elegant, and impossibly magnetic. There was something about him that drew her in. Maybe it was the way his voice dipped into a whisper when he said her name, or how his eyes caught the light and turned it into something almost… dangerous.

Everyone in town said Matthew was strange. He lived in the old mansion on the hill, the one everyone avoided. He didn’t come to school often, and when he did, he stayed in the shadows of the classroom. But Y/N had never cared about rumors. She saw something in him — a loneliness she recognized.

They’d met by accident — or so she thought. One evening, she’d tripped on the sidewalk outside the old church, scraping her hand. He’d appeared out of nowhere, offering his help with a crooked smile.

“Careful,” he’d said, his gaze flicking to the blood on her skin a second too long. “You’re too fragile for this world.”

From that night on, he was everywhere. In the corner of her eye. In her dreams. Sometimes she swore she could feel him watching her even when she was alone.

Weeks passed, and their friendship deepened. They’d talk under the stars for hours — about life, about secrets, about eternity. She told him she wished time would stop. He smiled, but there was sadness in it.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he murmured. “To have forever.”

Y/N didn’t understand, not then. She just knew she wanted him — wanted to know him, to be the reason he smiled for real.

But the more she fell for him, the weaker she felt. Her dreams became foggy, her mornings heavy. Sometimes she woke with tiny marks on her neck she couldn’t explain. Matthew always brushed it off with that same haunting smile.

“Bad dreams,” he’d whisper. “Don’t think about it.”

One night, she confronted him.She’d had enough of secrets. The air was thick with rain, thunder echoing in the distance. He stood in the doorway of his mansion, the candlelight behind him throwing shadows across his face.

“Matthew,” she said, her voice trembling, “what are you hiding from me?”

His expression softened, but his eyes gleamed like liquid silver. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

He sighed, stepped closer — close enough that she could feel the chill of his skin.Then, he whispered, “I drink your blood, y/n, I'm a Vampire.”

The words hit her like ice. Her breath caught. She wanted to step back, to run, but his gaze pinned her in place.

“I don’t hurt you,” he continued, almost pleading. “I take only enough to keep myself alive. You… you’re different. You make it easier to exist.”

Her heart ached. She didn’t know if it was fear or heartbreak. “So that’s what I am to you?” she whispered. “A meal?”

He looked away. “You were never supposed to matter.”

But his voice broke — and that was how she knew he was lying.

I hope you enjoyed my first fic and I really I really hope people still read vampire fics, because I'm gonna try to write more on this au but I think I'll also start some other au's.