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Wc: 362

The blizzard arrives faster than expected.

One minute, snow dusts the windows like an afterthought. The next, it’s coming down hard. Thick and endless, erasing the street, the cars, the idea of going anywhere at all. Phones buzz with weather alerts, but no one needs them. It’s obvious.

You and Nick end up in the kitchen, standing a little too close to the stove while hot chocolate warms in a saucepan. He insists on extra marshmallows. You pretend to argue.

“This is a snow day,” he says, dumping another handful in. “There are rules.”

You let him win.

By the time you’re back in the living room, mugs warm in your hands, the house feels quieter than usual. An old movie plays. Something you’ve both seen a dozen times but never get tired of. The kind where the dialogue fades into background noise and the familiarity does most of the work.

Outside, the wind howls. Inside, the lights are low, the couch crowded with blankets.

Nick sits at the far end at first, curled into himself, hoodie pulled tight. Somewhere between the second act and the soft glow of the TV reflecting off the snow outside, his head starts to dip. He tries to fight it, blinks hard, shifts his weight, but the storm has other plans.

When he finally falls asleep, it’s slow and unintentional. His breathing evens out, shoulders relaxing like he’s been holding tension all day without realizing it.

You don’t move right away.

The movie keeps playing. Snow keeps falling.

Eventually, you reach for the blanket folded over the arm of the couch and pull it gently over him, careful not to wake him. He doesn’t stir. Just sinks a little deeper, safe and unaware.

You sit there longer than the movie lasts, listening to the storm and the quiet rhythm of someone you care about sleeping nearby.

There’s something comforting about nights like this... about being stuck together with nowhere else to be. No expectations. No noise. Just warmth and the quiet understanding that you’re not alone.

When the credits roll, you don’t turn the TV off right away.

Outside, the blizzard rages on.

Inside, everything feels exactly where it should be.

a/n: hi my bugs!! I'm so sorry I havent posted in sooo long and I apologize😔😔. Also, forst Nick fic??? I love all 36 of you guys so so much and I'm so grateful that you guys enjoy my content. Stay tuned for more!!🖤

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The room was quiet, but Chris could feel the noise in his own head. A relentless hum that refused to stop. Day after day, he told himself it was simple: just a challenge, thirty days, no excuses. He had prepared himself. He had made rules. And yet, now, in the dark hours of the night, he felt like every promise he had made to himself was crumbling.

He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, the thin sliver of moonlight cutting across the room like a reminder that time was still moving, still relentless. His thoughts were loud, chaotic, impossible to silence. Every laugh he had heard that day, every fleeting moment of connection he had felt, echoed in his chest with a weight he hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t just the challenge anymore. It was the ache of wanting something he couldn’t allow himself, of feeling drawn to something that belonged just out of reach. He tried to convince himself it was trivial, that no one else would understand, that it was just him and his own stubbornness. But that voice in his head? Insistent, unforgiving. Refused to quiet.

He thought about the small things: a look exchanged, a word said at the wrong moment, a smile that lingered longer than it should have. Those moments, tiny as they were, had grown into a storm inside him. Every second he spent alone was another second for that storm to rage unchecked. His hands clenched, his jaw tightened, and still, he told himself he was fine.

But he wasn’t.

He hadn’t been fine for days. Sleep came in fits and starts, and when he closed his eyes, he was haunted by every memory, every fleeting interaction that had sent his heart into overdrive. He hated how much he cared, how deeply he felt things that should have been inconsequential. It wasn’t fair, he thought bitterly, that wanting something so simple could feel like being crushed under a weight too heavy to carry.

Hours passed. The world outside remained oblivious. Chris’s phone remained silent, indifferent to the turmoil it might have alleviated with a single message. And so he stayed there, trapped in his own head, caught between pride and desire, discipline and surrender.

It wasn’t anger he felt, exactly. Nor sadness, not fully. It was a grinding, raw tension that left him hollow and full at once, like he had been emptied and refilled with the same pain over and over. He tried to breathe through it, tried to remind himself that tomorrow would be easier, that the end of the month was in sight. But the end of the month felt impossibly far away. Each day stretched longer than the last, a measure of time he couldn’t escape.

Chris rolled onto his side and pressed his face into his pillow. He wanted to shout, to scream, to tear through the walls he had built around himself, but there was nothing but the quiet. The quiet and the ache.

And then, in that quiet, he finally let himself feel it fully, the weight of wanting, the depth of longing, the ache of restraint. It was unbearable, yes, but it was also him. It was part of the way he cared, the way he lived, the way he remembered that even silence could carry a voice loud enough to hurt.

He stayed there, in the dark, letting the storm rage within him until exhaustion finally claimed him. And when he drifted into a restless sleep, it was with the knowledge that tomorrow would come, that the challenge would continue, and that the ache? The quiet, relentless ache? Would be waiting for him, patient as ever, until he learned how to bear it.

a/n: I'm so sorry I haven't posted my bugs💔💔 I just come on here to read and goon. (Tmi?) Love you guys, sorry once again.😞

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The smell of cider and hay was thick in the crisp autumn air, and you were living for every second of it.

Pumpkin patches in the fall were practically a requirement for you, leaf piles, hot drinks, and photo ops, but this year was different. This year, you weren’t going with a group of friends, or your siblings, or just to be festive.

This year, you were going with Matt, your shy best friend.

And Matt was currently standing next to you in the middle of the pumpkin field, hands buried in his hoodie pocket, cheeks red (definitely from the cold… or maybe from you), and very clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t watching your every move.

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “You’re not gonna help me pick one?”

His head jerked up, eyes wide like you caught him doing something illegal. “Huh? No—I mean—yeah. Yeah, I can help.”

You stifled a laugh. He was so ridiculously shy sometimes. It was adorable.

You crouched to examine a short, round pumpkin with a bent stem. “This one’s cute.”

Matt tilted his head and frowned, squatting beside you. “It’s kinda… lopsided.”

“Yeah, but in, like, a charming way,” you said, running your fingers along the rough surface. “Like, if it were a person, it’d have a good personality.”

Matt laughed quietly. One of those soft, involuntary ones you rarely got from him unless he forgot to hold it in.

“What?” you asked, smiling.

He shook his head, looking down, still smiling just slightly. “Nothing. Just… sounds like something you’d say.”

Your heart thudded. You didn’t know if that was a compliment or just an observation, but coming from him, it felt special either way.

You both stood up again, and he rubbed his hands together, breath fogging in the air. “You cold?”

“I’m okay,” you said, but it wasn’t totally true. Your hands were freezing.

Matt seemed to hesitate, then, without a word, he gently reached out and grabbed your hand.

Just like that. Like it was casual. Like it was normal.

Except his ears turned bright red the second he did it.

You stared at your intertwined fingers, warmth blooming up your arm. “Oh. Okay. This is happening.”

“I just—your hands looked cold,” he mumbled. “You didn’t have gloves.”

“You’re smooth,” you teased gently, looking up at him.

Matt gave you the smallest smile, biting his bottom lip like he was trying not to grin. “Shut up.”

You both walked like that for a while past the rows of pumpkins, toward the barn with cider and donuts, hands still tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The whole time, your heart wouldn’t calm down. And by the looks of Matt’s flushed face and occasional nervous glances, his wasn’t either.

When you finally reached the cider stand, he let go only to pull out his wallet.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“Matt, you don’t have to—”

“No, I want to. You picked the pumpkin,” he added, nodding toward the small, lopsided one he’d insisted on carrying the whole way. “Fair trade.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So this is a date now?”

Matt froze mid-sip of his cider.

You nearly laughed again, loving the way his eyes widened.

“I—I mean, I didn’t say that,” he stammered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Unless… you wanted it to be?”

You tilted your head, heart pounding now for real. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He blinked at you, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

Then, for the first time that day, he smiled. Really smiled.

“Okay,” he said, and you could tell it took every ounce of courage he had. “Then yeah. It’s a date.”

a/n: RAWWWW IT'S FALL TIME BABES🍂

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The smell of cider and hay was thick in the crisp autumn air, and you were living for every second of it.

Pumpkin patches in the fall were practically a requirement for you, leaf piles, hot drinks, and photo ops, but this year was different. This year, you weren’t going with a group of friends, or your siblings, or just to be festive.

This year, you were going with Matt, your shy best friend.

And Matt was currently standing next to you in the middle of the pumpkin field, hands buried in his hoodie pocket, cheeks red (definitely from the cold… or maybe from you), and very clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t watching your every move.

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “You’re not gonna help me pick one?”

His head jerked up, eyes wide like you caught him doing something illegal. “Huh? No—I mean—yeah. Yeah, I can help.”

You stifled a laugh. He was so ridiculously shy sometimes. It was adorable.

You crouched to examine a short, round pumpkin with a bent stem. “This one’s cute.”

Matt tilted his head and frowned, squatting beside you. “It’s kinda… lopsided.”

“Yeah, but in, like, a charming way,” you said, running your fingers along the rough surface. “Like, if it were a person, it’d have a good personality.”

Matt laughed quietly. One of those soft, involuntary ones you rarely got from him unless he forgot to hold it in.

“What?” you asked, smiling.

He shook his head, looking down, still smiling just slightly. “Nothing. Just… sounds like something you’d say.”

Your heart thudded. You didn’t know if that was a compliment or just an observation, but coming from him, it felt special either way.

You both stood up again, and he rubbed his hands together, breath fogging in the air. “You cold?”

“I’m okay,” you said, but it wasn’t totally true. Your hands were freezing.

Matt seemed to hesitate, then, without a word, he gently reached out and grabbed your hand.

Just like that. Like it was casual. Like it was normal.

Except his ears turned bright red the second he did it.

You stared at your intertwined fingers, warmth blooming up your arm. “Oh. Okay. This is happening.”

“I just—your hands looked cold,” he mumbled. “You didn’t have gloves.”

“You’re smooth,” you teased gently, looking up at him.

Matt gave you the smallest smile, biting his bottom lip like he was trying not to grin. “Shut up.”

You both walked like that for a while past the rows of pumpkins, toward the barn with cider and donuts, hands still tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The whole time, your heart wouldn’t calm down. And by the looks of Matt’s flushed face and occasional nervous glances, his wasn’t either.

When you finally reached the cider stand, he let go only to pull out his wallet.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“Matt, you don’t have to—”

“No, I want to. You picked the pumpkin,” he added, nodding toward the small, lopsided one he’d insisted on carrying the whole way. “Fair trade.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So this is a date now?”

Matt froze mid-sip of his cider.

You nearly laughed again, loving the way his eyes widened.

“I—I mean, I didn’t say that,” he stammered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Unless… you wanted it to be?”

You tilted your head, heart pounding now for real. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He blinked at you, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

Then, for the first time that day, he smiled. Really smiled.

“Okay,” he said, and you could tell it took every ounce of courage he had. “Then yeah. It’s a date.”

a/n: RAWWWW IT'S FALL TIME BABES🍂

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WC: 2,875

The sun was already high when you tossed your bag into the back of Chris’s car.

“You really packed like we’re moving to the beach,” Nick commented from the passenger seat, smirking as he sipped his iced coffee.

“It’s called being prepared,” you shot back, settling into the backseat. Chris’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, catching yours, and he grinned softly.

“Prepared for what? A hurricane? You got, like, five towels in there,” Matt added, tugging at the straps of your beach bag.

“Five towels, sunscreen, snacks, and a speaker. Be quiet and be grateful. I’m saving your lives.”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head as he started the car. “Honestly, they’ll thank you later. They’re gonna be the first ones crying when their shoulders start burning.”

“Bro, don’t act like you’re not gonna steal her sunscreen too,” Nick snorted.

The drive to the beach was full of chaotic energy. Nick and Matt fighting over music, Chris sneaking glances at you in the mirror, and your playlist eventually winning because “Nick’s taste sucks,” according to Chris.

When you finally pulled into the parking lot, the salty breeze hit you immediately. Chris parked, jumped out, and started unloading towels and bags.

“Yo, Y/N, you packed enough for an army,” Matt joked again, though he was the first to grab a towel and race toward the sand.

“Race you to the water!” Nick shouted, taking off after him.

Chris stayed behind with you, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and carrying your cooler in the other hand.

“Take your time. No need to run like a maniac,” he said, his voice calm compared to his brothers’.

“Are you calling me slow?” you teased, adjusting your sunglasses.

He looked over at you, sunlight glinting off his nose ring, and smirked. “No. I’m calling you smart. It’s too hot for all that.”

You smiled and fell into step beside him, the sand already warm under your feet.

The four of you set up camp, a patchwork of towels, an umbrella Nick fought with for a solid ten minutes, and the cooler as your anchor.

Matt and Nick immediately took off toward the waves again, leaving you and Chris behind.

“You’re not swimming?” you asked, sitting cross-legged on your towel.

“In a minute. I’m still setting up,” he said, kneeling to rummage through his bag. When he pulled out sunscreen, he gave you a knowing look. “Don’t even say it. Yes, I burn easily.”

“Pale boy problems.”

“Exactly. Help me out?” He handed you the bottle.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You want me to—”

“Yeah. You’re literally the only one here I trust not to rub it in and slap my back after.”

Laughing, you took the sunscreen and motioned for him to sit. He dropped down in front of you, and you uncapped the bottle, squeezing some into your hands.

“Cold warning,” you said as your palms pressed against his shoulders.

He hissed. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Stop being dramatic,” you teased, rubbing in circles over his skin.

Chris went quiet for a moment, his head tilting slightly as you worked. “You do this a lot? Sunscreen duty?”

“Only for people I like.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you with a faint smile. “Good. I feel special now.”

When you finished, he returned the favor, making sure you didn’t miss your shoulders or back either. His hands were gentle, and you couldn’t help but feel the air shift between you like a thread pulling tighter.

“You’re gonna owe me if I get a sunburn,” you said lightly, trying to break the tension.

“I’ll buy you ice cream as an apology.”

“You’re on.”

Eventually, the two of you joined Matt and Nick in the water. The brothers were halfway through a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest, so you and Chris drifted a little further out, letting the waves push you gently.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Not bad at all. I could stay here forever.”

Chris looked at you then, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable for a beat. “Yeah. Me too.”

The afternoon melted into golden hour. You and Chris lay side by side on your towels, Nick and Matt off trying to catch crabs near the rocks.

“This was a good idea,” you murmured, eyes half-closed.

“Yeah. It’s been a while since we all just…chilled.”

You turned your head to look at him, and he was already watching you.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head slightly, a shy grin tugging at his lips. “Nothing. Just…you seem happy. I like seeing that.”

You didn’t reply right away, your chest tightening at the way he said it. Finally, you smiled. “You make it easy to be happy, Chris.”

His grin softened into something more tender. “Good. Then I’m doing my job right.”

When the sun dipped low, Chris offered his hoodie as the air cooled, draping it over your shoulders without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, tugging it closer.

“Anytime.”

You caught Matt watching from a distance, smirking like he knew something you didn’t. Nick wasn’t any better, elbowing Matt and whispering something that made them both laugh.

“You two are basically dating already,” Matt called out.

Chris groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Shut up, Matt.”

“They’re not wrong,” Nick added with a grin. “You might as well move in together while you’re at it.”

“Do not encourage them,” Chris warned, his voice muffled.

But when he peeked at you through his fingers, you were laughing, your cheeks warm from more than just the sun.

And Chris couldn’t help but smile too.

a/n: I made this cause I'm going to the Bahamas and on a cruise 😩🩵. I hope you guys liked this one!! Bye loves!!

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Word Count: 3,012

You swear you didn't mean for this to happen.

At first, it was just a weekend thing. You’d crashed at the Sturniolo house because it was late and you were too tired to Uber home. Then your overnight bag stayed unpacked for a few days because, well, you were there again. And then one morning you realized you hadn’t been back to your own apartment in… how long?

Two weeks?

Maybe three.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch when Nick strolls by, hair messy from his nap, and stops dead in his tracks. His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s solving a math problem.

“Do you even have a home anymore?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

He gestures vaguely to you and the blanket wrapped around your shoulders like you’re the house pet. “You’ve been here so long I’m starting to think you pay rent.”

You roll your eyes, pulling the blanket tighter. “Funny. Hilarious. 10/10 stand-up comedy.”

Matt walks in next, holding a box of Cheez-Its. He plops on the other end of the couch. “Nah, he’s got a point though.” He crunches loudly, staring you down. “Your toothbrush is in the bathroom. Your shampoo’s in the shower. You left, like, three hoodies in Chris’s room. At this point, Y/N…you live here.”

“I don’t—!” You cut yourself off because, okay, fair. Your stuff is everywhere.

Nick smirks. “You’re practically a Sturniolo already. Just add your name to the mailbox.”

“I’ll call the landlord,” Matt says between bites. “Lease starts tomorrow.”

Chris walks in then, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. He gives the scene a once-over and doesn’t even look surprised. “What are we bullying my baby for now?”

“Not bullying,” Matt corrects. “Just pointing out that Y/N’s a full-time resident.”

Chris’s lips twitch. “He’s not wrong. You may as well make it official.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how casual he sounds. “Official?”

“Yeah. Move your stuff in. Actually put it away instead of living out of your bag.”

You blink. “…You’re serious?”

Chris shrugs, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “You already leave half your life here, darlin'. May as well bring the rest.”

So, a week later, there you are, standing in your apartment, surrounded by boxes while Matt and Chris argue over who’s driving the car.

“Shotgun!” Matt calls.

“You’re not even driving, idiot,” Chris fires back. “We’re using YOUR car, and I’m helping her load the trunk.”

“Whatever, I’m still calling shotgun.”

You look at Nick, who’s leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his hoodie pocket, watching the chaos unfold with an amused expression.

“Are they always like this?” you whisper.

“Worse,” he whispers back.

It doesn’t take long for the three of them to invade your apartment like a hurricane.

Nick immediately starts packing your skincare products into a box, holding up random bottles. “Why do you have five different serums? Is this one… snail goo?”

“It’s snail mucin, thank you,” you correct.

Matt is stuffing clothes into a duffel bag. “Y/N, you have, like, twenty hoodies. Why? You only wear Chris’s anyway.”

Chris freezes. You shoot Matt a look that could kill, but he just grins innocently.

“You’re not wrong though,” Nick chimes in with a grin.

Chris mutters something under his breath and keeps packing your makeup bag like it’s the most delicate operation of his life.

By the time you’re back at their house, Matt and Nick are already setting up your things like this is an HGTV show.

“Skincare goes on the left side of the sink,” Nick announces. “You’re short, so easy reach.”

“Drawers in Chris’s room are now split 50/50,” Matt declares, shoving your folded shirts into a dresser. “He can deal with it.”

“Wait, are you guys actually—”

“—Yes,” Matt cuts you off. “You’re officially one of us now. Welcome to the family.”

Chris walks in, carrying the last box. “Don’t let them boss you around baby. Set it up how you want, hm?”

But when you see all your stuff neatly placed like you’ve always been there, something warm settles in your chest.

That night, you’re in the kitchen making tea when Chris joins you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“Do you regret it yet?” he asks softly.

“Regret what?”

“Moving in.”

You smile down at your mug. “Not even a little.”

He stands behind you and wraps his hands around your waist with his chin on your shoulder as his chest is pressed against your back. Then he smirks faintly. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

The next morning, Nick walks by the bathroom and sees your toothbrush, your skincare, your hairbrush lined up neatly.

He grins. “Yeah. She lives here now.”

Matt nods in agreement. “She’s basically family.”

Chris doesn’t say anything—just smiles to himself as he passes by.

a/n: This shouldn't have taken me this long but I hope y'all enjoyed it!! Love you, babes!

Photos from: @imnotjessiee

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Happy reading!! :))

You weren’t sure what it was about Matt Sturniolo that made your blood boil.

Maybe it was the way he always acted like he had something to prove.

Maybe it was the fact that he never gave you a break. Always challenging you, always smirking like he knew something you didn’t.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that every time he looked at you, your stomach twisted into a knot, and you hated that more than anything.

It started the first time you met him, at a random group hangout your friend dragged you to last fall. He made some snide comment about the way you held your drink, and you shot back something equally sharp. From that moment, it was war.

Every room you shared with him was filled with biting sarcasm, eye rolls, and tension so thick it could strangle.

You didn’t think it would last. You figured he’d get bored eventually. But he didn’t. And neither did you.

Tonight, unfortunately, you were stuck with him again. A weeklong lake house trip with your friends. And Matt.

Day two, and you already wanted to throw him into the water.

“Can you not?” you snapped as he bumped into you for the third time in the tiny kitchen.

He leaned lazily against the counter, sipping his iced coffee like he owned the place. “Sorry, princess. Didn’t realize the whole kitchen was your territory.”

“It’s not. I’m just tired of you breathing the same air as me.”

He grinned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re obsessed with me.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “You wish.”

He moved closer, just slightly. “Oh, I do.”

Your heart stuttered. Just for a second. But that second was enough to make you hate yourself.

“Why do you always have to act like such a cocky—”

“Because it gets you all worked up,” he cut in. “And let’s be honest, you love the attention.”

You opened your mouth to yell something, maybe throw your drink on him, but someone walked into the kitchen, and the moment broke like glass.

You stormed out.

Later that night, you found yourself outside alone, sitting on the deck wrapped in a hoodie, staring at the lake. The quiet was a relief.

“You always run off when you get flustered?”

Of course. Matt.

You didn’t look at him. “Go away.”

“No.”

He sat beside you anyway. Close. Too close.

Yhe silence stretched long between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. That was the thing, for all the chaos he brought into your life, being near him didn’t scare you. it… Thrilled you. That was the part that kept you up at night.

“I don’t get you,” he finally said.

“Good.”

“You act like you hate me.”

“Because I do.”

He looked at you, eyes dark, searching. “Then why haven’t you blocked my number? Why do You come to every party I’m at? Why haven’t you told me to fuck off for good?”

You swallowed. He wasn’t smiling now. His voice was quieter. Realer. Raw.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

He leaned in, so close his breath ghosted over your cheek. “Because maybe… You don’t hate me.”

You turned toward him, eyes locking with his. “Maybe I do.”

“Then prove it.”

You frowned. “How?”

He smirked, just a little. “Kiss me like you hate me.”

You froze.

The air between you burned. The fire pit nearby flickered, casting gold over his face. You should have slapped him. You should have walked away.

But instead, you kissed him. Hard.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate, furious, and hot. His hands tangled in your hair, yours gripped his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. It was a kiss that felt like everything you’d been holding back, the insults, the tension, the nights you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your heart racing, he just looked at you, eyes wide, lips swollen.

“…wow,” he muttered.

You blinked. “Yeah.”

And then you said the most honest thing you’d said all year.

“I don’t think I hate you anymore.”

a/n: I really hope you guys like this one. Only my second fan fic!! Kind of scared to see how this turns out. But to the people who have supported me so far, I love you babes!

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Written by @sturniologlaze , do not copy, steal, or modify my works. Thank you!!

You sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch in the Sturniolo triplets’ living room, sipping from a mug of peppermint tea. The apartment buzzed with laughter from the other two brothers in the kitchen, but your eyes kept drifting toward Matthew.

He was across the room, flipping through a stack of vinyls with one hand, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms. The warm glow from the floor lamp hit you both just right, casting soft shadows across his cheekbones. Every so often, he’d glance up, quick, fleeting eye contact that felt electric.

“Found one,” he said, finally holding up a record triumphantly. “Mac Miller. Good night vibes.”

You smiled, leaning back. “You know your music.”

“I know your music,” he replied, his lips curling into that lopsided smirk that made your heart flutter.

He walked over, slid the record onto the turntable, and sat down beside you. Not close, but closer than he needed to be. The soft strum of the music filled the silence between them.

“I like nights like this,” you said quietly.

He turned to you. “Me too. No noise. No cameras. Just… real.”

You looked at him, noticing how his usual sarcastic exterior softened in the low light. “Do you ever get tired of it? The social media, the constant attention?”

“All the time,” he said. “But then there are nights like this that make it worth it. Where I can just be… Matt. And not the version everyone sees online.”

You smiled, your hand brushing against his on the couch.

Hr looked down at their hands, then back up at you. “You do that on purpose?”

“Maybe.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lower now. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna kiss you.”

Your breath caught. “Then maybe you should.”

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found yours, warm and careful at first, but soon deeper, more certain. His hand slipped to the back of her neck as he pulled you in, the record spinning in the background like a soundtrack just for the both of you.

When they finally broke apart, slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“About damn time,” he whispered.

I was debating weather I should post this or not it's been in my drafts for a bit..

Also, my first ever fan fic? I think that's what ppl call it.🍒

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