Matthew Sturniolo X Reader - Blog Posts

These are just some ideas I have stored away and whichever wins will be what comes after You're so Creepy p.3 :DD

♱ You're so Creepy ♱ p.2

Zombie!Matt x Emo!Reader p.1

Z!Matt pic made by @so0thsayer ^^

╰┈➤ No pronouns, Reader mostly referred to as 'You', only 1 use of Y/N, emo is not mentioned in this part btw

Warnings: Description of a zombie, creepiness, lonely reader, not properly proof read

In your small town there was always a myth about monsters that roam the woods at night, monsters that were once alive… once human… but you know this is no myth…

The next few days everything scared you, even though you had convinced yourself that what you saw out your window wasn't real, the memory of looking death in the face still scared you. For days you couldn't sleep properly out of fear that the corpse would climb through your window in the middle of the night. You wouldn’t even go into the woods, always walking straight home after school and staying shut inside for the rest of the evening with the windows and curtains closed.

But because you haven't gone out to the tombstone in a while you've started to feel just as isolated as when you first got here, not talking to anyone, not leaving the house, lost in your own thoughts. The grave of the unknown person helped you, honestly it saved you. You could talk about whatever you wanted and it would listen, you miss it.

Recently you’ve been feeling a little better, less scared of everything around you, so you decided to be brave and go see your friend.

The slow walk through the dense woods was frightening, every rustle or crunch would make you yelp, scared that the monster boy from your nightmares would jump out and eat your brains. Eventually you recognised the trees and surroundings as the ones close to the rock and you started to get excited at the thought of being able to talk to it once more and apologising for neglecting it the past few weeks but quickly, you stop dead in your tracks.

There is a young boy standing in front of the grave, slouched and hunched over like a sluggish dying body, he looks a sickly green colour and his matted, shaggy hair falls over his face. His clothes are like dirty old rags and they hang off his body in a lifeless way. You almost ask if he's ok until you notice the gigantic hole in front of the tombstone and the amount of dirt on the boy’s hands.

Suddenly you came to the frightening realisation that what you saw outside your window that night wasn’t all in your head, it was real. And so are the stories of monsters and beasts in the forest, because you met one.

You let out a shocked gasp and your hand flies over your mouth in an attempt to hide from the corpse of a man in front of you but his head slowly drags over to your direction, his dark and frightening eyes landing on your frozen pose. It is only now that you really get a good look at him, his features are sharp and shrunken but there is something curious and inviting in the way he looks at you. There is a stitch that runs from the middle of his cheek to the middle of his nose and his mouth is open like he is about to say something but the words won't come out.

You slowly lower your hands from your mouth and shuffle forward ever so slightly, testing to see if he would jump at you and rip your face off. Thankfully he didn't, he actually flinched away from you. “Oh- no don’t worry… I wont hurt you.” You mumble in response to his fear. At your words he relaxes his shoulders (not like they weren't already slouched) and you inch closer to him, studying his rotten features; the dark bags under his eyes, somehow his lips and eyelids are both blue and pink making him look both alive and dead. You stop in front of him as he stares at you with his prominent blue eyes, not being able to fully read his emotions.

 “Is- is this your grave?” You ask, glancing down at the hole and then back up at him. His head slowly nods in a way that looks like it's about to fall off and grunts, deep from the back of his throat. The corner of your lips start to quirk up in a smile realising the wish you made that night accidentally became true.

At an agonisingly slow pace you and the decrepit boy walk back to your house in silence, too scared and in shock to say anything while you drag him along by the forearm, helping him not trip over on branches or rocks along the path. When you arrive outside your house you’re extremely cautious as to not let anyone see him while you open your bedroom window and help him get in before he lands on the ground with a loud thud, thank the lord your parents aren’t home.

You climb in the window after him and help him up off the ground by his arm, being careful with it as you're scared you're gonna rip it off or something. As he stands in front of you with his slouched posture, staring at you intensely, you feel like you should be waking up from a dream any moment now and your eyes will open to the bright, warm sunlight coming through your bedroom window, shining directly on your bed in a soft, comforting way. But you never wake up. There really, truly, is a zombie in your room, staring at you like he either wants to rip off your face or kiss you.

While you are stuck in your thoughts the corpse's hand slowly lifts up and he raises a finger that falls to the top of your chest, tapping a little before he gets out a low grunt. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you stare at him, trying to figure out what he is doing or asking. In an almost frustrated tone he grunts again, this time louder and he nods his head towards you. “M-Me?” He slightly nods a little and taps your chest, trying to convey something without words like a game of charades.

 “Mmmame” The boy spurts out in an unintelligible way. “Mm- my- my name?” You say pointing to yourself slightly and he nods, seeming happy you finally understood what he wanted. “I’m Y/N… uhm- what’s your name?” You hesitantly ask, not sure if he remembers or could even say it if he did. Slowly he brings the finger on your chest up to his and his mouth hangs open slightly while he groans. “Mmmatt…” He mumbles in a way that seems like it took a lot of effort as he sighs after and his hand falls back down to his side. “Matt? Your name is Matt?” You question and he once again nods in response with a croaky groan falling from his limp lips. You slightly smile at him and feel heat slowly rise on your cheeks as your head tilts curiously while you look at him, you like the name, you think it suits him in a weird sort of way. 

Divider by @sister-lucifer ^^

A/N: this one is a little longer but i hope u enjoy also sorry for the lack of romance so far jajaja😭

♱ You're so Creepy ♱

Zombie!Matt x Emo!Reader p.2

╰┈➤ No pronouns or Y/N, reader is referred to as 'you' only

Warnings: Description of a zombie, Blood (minimal), creepiness, lonely reader, not properly proof read

In your small town there was always a myth about monsters that roam the woods at night, monsters that were once alive… once human… but you know this is no myth…

You often thought the people in town were boring and dull, with nothing interesting going on in their lives; you on the other hand, you stood out. Your alternative clothes, emo hairstyle and loud taste in music is something this small community was unfamiliar with so when you moved there after your parents divorce you were basically ostracised with no friends, but you were fine with that, you liked the woods better anyways.

After school while walking home you take long detours through the dark mass of trees that engulf the town, just listening to the beautiful sounds of the animals in the trees and the leaves rustling beneath your feet. The woods felt safe and comforting despite what your classmates and neighbours often told you. Leaning close and whispering in your ear about stories of noises and shadows, disappearances and dead animals; you listened eagerly to their stories, taking much interest in anything macabre and morbid. As much as you knew these rumours were fake, a part of you wished it was true so this place wouldn't be so boring. 

While walking through a new part of the forest you pluck a few flowers, pretty little white ones. As you continue walking through the dense trees, shrugging your backpack up on your shoulder a little more after it starts to slip off, you notice a small, jagged square-ish shaped stone structure in the distance. When you get closer to it you see small engravings that resemble words but it's so beaten up and weathered down it's hard to tell what it says but you can tell it is someone's grave so you think it's a good idea to place the dainty flowers down in front of the rock. Smiling to yourself at the bittersweet sight. “Rest well” You mumble before heading back through the woods to be back home in time for dinner.

Throughout the next few weeks you found yourself walking back to the grave without a clue on why. You would sit there in front of the dirty stone and tell it about your day, what you're learning in school, what others say about you in the halls, how much you hate your teachers ect. For some unknown reason it gave you comfort in your loneliness, you truly felt like you had a friend again, or at least someone that would just listen. 

“Gosh you have no idea… It's like no one wants to be their own person! Everyone is just the same… would you be the same?” You desperately ask the inanimate rock, sighing lightly at the lack of conversation. “I wish you were alive… because you're my only friend.” You mumble after feeling pathetic. Noticing the ombre colours forming in the sky you grab your bag and sling it over one shoulder before placing down todays flowers over the small pile that has grown over your many visits and start to walk away; suddenly you swear you hear something shuffle behind you but when you flick your head around there is nothing except for the grave. “Too many zombie movies…” You mumble to yourself before walking back home on your usual path.

That night everything felt strange and eerie, You kept feeling like you were being watched, like there was someone that was looking at you through windows or they were standing in the corner of rooms, the hair on your arms and back of your neck stood up, getting shivers, you even thought you saw someone outside while you were eating dessert at the dinner table. You convinced yourself it was just your imagination, you just spooked yourself out and needed to go to bed, in the morning you’ll feel fine. As you lay under the soft sheets on your bed, listening to the sounds of your own deep breaths to try to calm yourself down enough to be able to sleep you hear a faint tapping sound. You ignore it, believing it's only in your head or it's just a raccoon and it will go away, but whenever the tapping would stop it would only start back up again seconds later and louder than before. Out of pure frustration and fear you jump up out of bed and slowly tiptoe your way over to the window, the moonlight slightly peeking through the crack of the dark curtains, making things only more eerie and suspenseful. Your hands shake as they grab the fabric, the tapping feeling more urgent and desperate the longer you wait. 

When you pull back the curtain the sight you see is…

Morbid.

In the dark shine of the moonlight there is a boy, his hair is dark and messy, theres dirt and sticks all throughout it, his skin is pale but also many disgusting shades of pinks and greens, some parts of his face is stitched up and his mouth falls open in a unsettling, decrepit way with blood slowly starting to drip down his bottom lip. His eyes are dark in the moonlight and you’re only able to see one but it's strikingly blue as he looks at you with an unreadable stare.

You want to scream but your body doesn't let you. All you can do is stare with wide eyes as he stares at you back, still tapping a slender finger on the corner of the window. When you finally come to your senses you shut the curtains as quick as you can and run back to your bed, climbing under the sheets as your body trembles from fear.

“I must be fucking crazy.”

Divider by @sister-lucifer ^^

FROSTED FLAKES pt.2

In the summer of ‘76,, Matt meets a walking social disaster. In simpler terms.. a girl. I know. Matt Sturniolo and girls aren’t exactly a match made in heaven. But maybe this one is an exception?

Matt Sturniolo wasn’t a guy people noticed. He was the one on the edge of every conversation, hands shoved in his pockets, nodding along but never speaking. He existed in the background, the human equivalent of white noise, there, but never quite there. And he was okay with that.

But for some reason, ever since that day at the grocery store, he kept noticing her.

At first, it was just a passing thought. A flash of curls and big brown eyes somewhere in the back of his mind. Then, it was something worse, a weird, nagging feeling, like he was waiting for something. Like maybe he’d run into her again.

Except summer stretched long and hazy, and she didn’t show up anywhere. Not at the record store when he went with Nick. Not at Nate’s house, where the air was thick with the scent of weed and cheap cologne. Not even at the parties Chris dragged him to, where everyone blended together into a blur of voices and smoke and music that wasn’t as good as people thought it was.

So, he forgot. Mostly.

But then school started.

And there she was.

At first, it was just a glimpse in the hallway, like a trick of the light. Then he saw her again, on the front steps, in the cafeteria, at the lockers, in the exact wrong places at the wrong times. And every time, it was like some cosmic joke, like fate was dangling something just out of reach.

He didn’t approach her, of course. Matt Sturniolo did not approach girls.

Chris would. Chris could walk up to any girl, any time, and just talk. Didn’t matter who, didn’t matter where, he had a way of slipping into conversations like he belonged there.

Matt? He was lucky if he could get a sentence out without sounding like an idiot.

So he didn’t talk to her. He just… saw her. More than he should’ve.

It was starting to feel like some kind of setup.

Then came the next morning.

Chris had to go in early for tutoring, something about making up for skipping too many classes last year, so Matt got dragged along for the ride. The school was barely awake yet, the halls stretching empty and hollow.

With nothing else to do, he went to the cafeteria, figuring he’d sit there until people started showing up.

And that’s when he saw her.

She was standing in the breakfast line, her hair a little wilder than usual. She grabbed a little plastic bowl of Frosted Flakes and a carton of milk, shaking the box like she was testing how much was inside.

Matt didn’t mean to stare.

But she must’ve felt it, because right then, she looked up, straight at him.

And smiled.

It wasn’t just a polite smile, either. It was real, bright, warm, like she knew something he didn’t.

Then, before he could even think about looking away, she turned and walked right toward him.

Matt swallowed hard, his hands instinctively tucking into his hoodie pockets as she dropped into the seat across from him, setting her tray down with a little clack.

Matt stiffened, pulse kicking up, every instinct screaming at him to look away, act normal, pretend you weren’t staring like a freak.

“Hey,” she said casually, ripping the plastic lid off her cereal. “You always sit here?”

Matt blinked. He hadn’t expected her to actually talk to him.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. My brother had tutoring.”

She tilted her head. “Huh. Didn’t know they did tutoring this early.” Then she scooped up some cereal, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at him again. “You got a name, or should I just call you ‘guy who stares at me from across the room’?”

Matt felt heat creep up his neck. Great. She noticed.

“Sturniolo,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Matt,” he amended.

She nodded approvingly. “Better.” Then, after a beat, she slid the bowl of cereal toward him. “Hold this for a sec? Gotta grab a napkin.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving him sitting there, staring down at a bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes.

Matt exhaled, running a hand down his face.

This girl was gonna be a problem.

Matt sat stiffly, staring down at the bowl of Frosted Flakes like it was some kind of test. The milk was already turning sugary and pale, the cereal floating lazily on top. He didn’t dare touch it.

Across the cafeteria, she was rifling through the napkin dispenser, curls bouncing with every movement. Like she wasn’t even thinking about the fact that she’d just sat down with him. Like this wasn’t weird at all.

Matt felt his throat tighten.

She didn’t even know who he was. She probably sat down because he looked alone, and people like her had a way of making things less awkward for the ones who didn’t fit in. It didn’t mean anything.

So why was he sitting here like his entire morning had just been thrown off course?

Before he could think too much about it, she was back, napkin in hand, sliding into her seat like she belonged there. She pulled the cereal back in front of her, barely sparing him a glance before she dug in again.

“Thanks, Matt.”

His stomach did something weird at the way she said his name. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like they’d always been friends.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

She grinned mid-bite, like she could hear the awkwardness in his voice.

“So, do you, like, not eat breakfast, or do you just enjoy staring at people while they eat?”

Matt frowned, crossing his arms. “I don’t stare.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Mmm.”

“I don’t,” he insisted, but it came out weak, because, well… maybe he had been looking at her more than he should’ve.

She didn’t push it, just smirked like she knew something he didn’t. “Alright, not-staring-Matt, what’s your deal?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Like, what’s your thing?” she said, waving her spoon. “Everyone’s got something. You a football guy? A stoner? One of those weird band kids?”

Matt hesitated. He could’ve told her about movies, about the hours he spent watching and rewatching old foreign films no one else cared about. About the way music sounded different on vinyl, how he had a whole crate of records stacked in his room. But all of that felt… too personal.

So he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

She sighed dramatically. “God, you’re so cryptic.”

“I’m not cryptic,” he muttered.

“You totally are,” she said, shaking her head. “I bet you’re, like, the brooding type. Probably lean against lockers all mysterious, making girls wonder what your deal is.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’s me. Real mysterious.”

She laughed, and Matt didn’t realize how much he liked the sound of it until it was already out there, loud and full and unfiltered.

For a second, they just sat there, her eating, him sitting there, unsure of why he wasn’t getting up, why he wasn’t saying something stupid to ruin the moment.

Then—

“Hey, there you are.”

Matt’s shoulders tensed as he heard Chris’s voice.

He turned to see his brother strolling toward the table, looking like he owned the place, because Chris always looked like that. His grayish-purple shirt was half unbuttoned, his dark hair tousled in that effortless way that made girls trip over themselves.

And, of course, he noticed her immediately.

Chris slid into the seat next to Matt, grinning lazily at her. “Hey. Who’s your friend?”

Matt opened his mouth to say I don’t know, but before he could, she answered for him.

“Sage.” She stuck out a hand. “And you must be the brother?”

Chris took her hand like he was some kind of movie star, shooting her the most flirty smile, which Matt knew all too well. “of course.”

Matt groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

He could already tell, this was about to get so much worse.

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetsss @b1gba113r @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerlykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

what’s in LOSER MATT’s camera?

wow he’s so talented

FROSTED FLAKES pt.1

In the summer of ‘76,, Matt meets a walking social disaster. In simpler terms.. a girl. I know. Matt Sturniolo and girls aren’t exactly a match made in heaven. But maybe this one is an exception?

September 14, 1976 – A Warm, Late-Summer Evening

The air smelled like gasoline and fading sunlight, warm in that way September gets when summer refuses to let go. The pavement still held onto the heat of the afternoon, radiating up through the soles of Matt Sturniolo’s sneakers as he walked home from McCleary’s Market with a bag of records under his arm. The sky had that golden, hazy look, half dusk, half dream, where everything feels a little too quiet, like the world is holding its breath before night fully settles in.

Matt liked moments like this. When the streets were mostly empty, the radio static in his head quieted, and the only sound was the scuff of his sneakers against the sidewalk.

Then, out of nowhere—

BAM.

A blur of curls. A crash. The sharp edge of a shopping cart jamming into his hip.

Matt stumbled back, nearly dropping his records, as someone practically barreled into him outside the market. A girl.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, immediately grabbing his arms like she could keep him upright through sheer force of will. “Are you okay? Jesus, I wasn’t looking—well, obviously I wasn’t looking, because if I was looking, you wouldn’t be half-dead on the sidewalk right now, but—oh no, did I break something? Are you gonna sue me? Wait, do people actually do that? I mean, I wouldn’t sue if I got hit with a shopping cart, but—”

Matt just blinked at her, trying to process what the hell just happened.

The girl, who had massive brown eyes and a mess of dark curls that looked like they had a mind of their own, stared back at him expectantly, waiting for a response.

“…You talk a lot,” he muttered.

She grinned. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

And then, before he could say anything else, she reached into his grocery bag, dropped a box of Frosted Flakes inside, and walked off like nothing happened.

Matt stood there for a long moment, watching her bounce away down the sidewalk, talking to an old lady who looked very confused but not entirely displeased by her presence.

What the hell just happened?

And, more importantly…

Who was she?

@issysh3ll

Authors note.. (Okay a few things this is my first series that I wanted to start and I have a few questions. Do you guys want her to have a name and be her own character or do you want it to be a reader type thing. And also I tried to write this in a rom com type style so if you don’t like it pls lmk. Tell me anything you don’t like. And lastly do you guys want smut in this later on? Because that’s definitely possible)

taglist.. @italiansunsetsss @b1gba113r @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerlykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

TAGLIST .ᐟ

໑ comment if you want to be removed or added to my taglist..

໑ make sure if you want to be tagged turn on your mentions..

໑ it would be greatly appreciated if you followed me..

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @itsyagrillkat

introducing

໑ 70s LOSER MATT

LOSER MATT.. who isn’t shy, just terrible at social cues, leaving people wondering if he’s being intentionally funny or just awkward.

LOSER MATT.. who doesn’t say much but notices everything, his sharp eyes catching details others overlook, like someone’s mood changing or a song subtly switching tempo.

LOSER MATT.. who’s clumsy in the most endearing way, tripping over nothing or spilling his drink, then muttering a dry, self-deprecating joke that actually makes people laugh.

LOSER MATT.. who only comes to parties if Chris and Nate are going, and even then, he spends most of the night nursing a drink and bobbing his head to the music in the corner.

LOSER MATT.. who sits on the edge of his bed, headphones on, completely lost in the world of his favorite obscure album, mouthing the lyrics like they’re gospel.

LOSER MATT.. who practices drumming on every surface he encounters—desks, tables, his own thighs—earning annoyed looks from teachers and amused ones from friends.

LOSER MATT.. who doodles on the edges of his notebooks during class, filling the margins with weirdly intricate designs no one ever sees because he immediately closes his book.

LOSER MATT.. who will pause mid-walk in the hallway to daydream, staring off into space like he’s in the middle of a movie scene only he can see.

LOSER MATT.. who spends his free time at record stores, thumbing through vinyls he can’t afford, memorizing tracklists, and mentally curating the perfect playlist.

LOSER MATT.. who doesn’t understand why people hate on disco and will passionately argue its brilliance to anyone willing to listen—or not.

LOSER MATT.. who shows up to every group hangout slightly late, not because he’s cool, but because he overthought what to wear and couldn’t decide if he was actually invited.

LOSER MATT.. who panics if someone randomly calls on him, answering with a stammer and a dry, witty comment that accidentally makes everyone laugh.

LOSER MATT.. who secretly wants to be the main character but thinks he’s destined to be a background NPC, quietly hoping someone will see him for more.

LOSER MATT.. who refuses to watch a movie he’s obsessed with until he has the perfect setup—a quiet room, the right lighting, and no distractions—because art deserves to be experienced properly.

LOSER MATT.. who only really comes alive when he’s playing his drums, his quiet, awkward demeanor melting away into raw passion and energy.

LOSER MATT.. who would absolutely lose it if someone recognized one of his niche movie references, but instead, he just shrugs it off like it doesn’t matter.

LOSER MATT.. who’s clumsy in the most endearing way, tripping over nothing or spilling his drink, then muttering a dry, self-deprecating joke that actually makes people laugh.

LOSER MATT.. who has exactly three close friends, Chris, Nick and Nate, and would do anything for them—even though Chris shoos him away half the time.

LOSER MATT.. who, despite his awkwardness, has a way of making people feel understood with his quiet loyalty and soft-spoken humor.

LOSER MATT.. who dreams of being a film composer but tells no one, burying his passion under layers of self-doubt and drum solos.

LOSER MATT.. who has a heart so big it scares him, hiding it under sarcasm and humor, hoping no one will notice how much he really cares.

@lovelymylene <3

GUYYSSS.. I need your help. I’m planning on making a 70s Matt post but I don’t know what he would be like as a 70s senior tbh😭 if you guys have an idea of how you want me to write him personality wise please recommend 🙏🏽 *mwah* love ya