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19, poet, dark red, roses, books, old records, writer, sturniolo triplets, Olivia rodrigo, music, black cats, Taylor swift, books, photographer
"Walking in circles like she was lost"
☆ Masterlist ☆
Nobody's son...
Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak,
She read the text three times before it really sank in.
Hi.
I hope you’re great.
I think it’s time we took a break so I can grow emotionally.
That was it. That was Chris. Polite. Careful. Detached in the way only someone who had already made peace with leaving could be. She lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, phone still glowing in her hand, feeling that old ache bloom in her chest like it knew the way too well.
Here we go again.
She cried into her pillow, the same pillow that still smelled faintly like his cologne, and hated herself for noticing. Outside her room, the world kept moving. Her friends were falling in love, getting engaged, planning trips for two. She was the one they invited along when they didn’t want to be alone but didn’t want to feel like a couple either. The third wheel. Always reliable. Always single.
She should’ve guessed. Chris had that look about him, the kind of smile that made you feel chosen and temporary at the same time. He knew what to say, when to say it. He knew how to feel close without actually being close. Fine, charming, deceiving. Just like the rest.
She told people she was okay.
“No, yeah, I’m good,” she said, shrugging, like it didn’t matter.
But part of her really thought he would cave. That he’d miss her voice, her laugh, the way she traced circles on his arm when she couldn’t sleep. She waited for the notification that never came. Chris, apparently, had discovered self control this week.
The nights were the worst. Alone in bed, memories replaying without permission. The way he once promised he was different. The way she believed him. There was something especially cruel about realizing someone didn’t mean to hurt you, they just didn’t care enough not to.
Anger came eventually, sharp and bitter. She thought about his parents, about how someone raised a boy who could love halfway and leave completely. That boy is corrupt, she thought. Did no one teach him how to stay? The damage he left behind felt disproportionate to the softness of his goodbye. PTSD on the daily, she joked to herself, except it wasn’t really a joke.
Still, life went on. Her friends called. She showed up. She laughed at the right moments. She cried when she was alone. Over time, the crying didn’t last as long. The familiar feeling began to loosen its grip.
One night, lying in bed again, she realized something had changed. She wasn’t waiting for Chris to reach out anymore. She wasn’t hoping. She wasn’t rehearsing conversations that would never happen.
There was nobody’s son left for her to believe in—but for the first time, she was starting to believe in herself.
Kinda hate this might delete later :/
-Star ❤️⭐️
We never dated.....
Warnings: Angst.
She met Matt in the spaces between things. Between classes. Between jokes that weren’t meant for her but always seemed to land at her feet anyway. He was clever like that. Knew exactly when to speak, when to smile, when to act like he hadn’t thought three steps ahead. He wore his intelligence lightly, like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t something sharp enough to cut her open later.
Matt was better by design. Not in the way that made him cruel, just untouchable. Like he existed slightly outside the rules everyone else agreed to follow. He laughed easily, flirted without promising, and never stayed long enough in one emotional place to be pinned down. He was too good for a man’s confines, too free to be held by expectations, labels, or her quiet hope.
They never dated. That was the strange part. No anniversary to mourn, no breakup to dissect. Just moments. Late-night conversations that felt like confessions. Lingering looks that felt like almosts. The way he’d lean in close when he talked, like the world was smaller when it was just them, then pull back the second it felt real.
Still, she thought about him daily.
She told herself it was silly. He was never hers. Never promised anything. Never even reached for her hand. And yet, he left her aching, like a song that never resolved its final note. Like something unfinished that kept looping in her chest.
Matt was easy to romanticize. He had that kind of face, that kind of charm. But he didn’t make himself easy to love. He liked to have his fun, liked to dance on the line between right and wrong, liked knowing someone cared without having to carry the weight of caring back. He took what was offered freely and left the rest untouched.
She loved him quietly. Carefully. In a way that asked for nothing because she already knew the answer. She learned, slowly and painfully, that love doesn’t always arrive where it’s sent. That you can do everything right and still be standing alone at the end.
“I can’t make you love me,” she practiced saying in her head, over and over, until it sounded less like a plea and more like the truth. She wished him the best, even meant it. But some small, honest part of her hoped that whoever came next would see what she saw. The rest of him. The parts he never gave her.
They never dated. And maybe that was why he lingered. Because there was no ending, no closure, just the echo of what could have been. Matt moved on easily. She stayed behind, learning how to let go of someone who was never hers for the taking.....
I think we might be getting closer to yesterday problem. Ok now hear me out. Like 2 years ago Matt said his project was about 75% done. And I feel like in some of his insta posts he's been hinting at it in a way. Personally I think it might be a book. He said he loves reading and he wants to talk about mental health so maybe yesterday's problem is a book and thats why its taken so long. What are your guys theories?
Reblogged
I am addicted to @ceyanabbiolo stories and I am not even kidding
Realest thing I've seen today
Wi$hli$t...
Warnings: cursing.
Two years in, I’ve learned the difference between wanting everything and wanting what lasts.
I hear what the world wants all the time. Loud, glossy things. Yacht life buzzing under helicopter blades. Bright lights, expensive shades, a body built for attention and a face that never quite grows up. Stories that win awards, lovers that look good on posters, success so big it has to spill onto bathroom floors just to prove it’s real.
Everyone wants it all.
Matt and I talk about it sometimes, usually late at night when the house is quiet and the future feels close enough to touch. He listens more than he talks. That’s how I know he’s thinking about what matters.
They say they want freedom. Living off the grid, no rules, no eyes watching. Three dogs instead of kids, or maybe before kids. Perfect waves, honest people, no hypocrisy. Then they turn around and want stadiums chanting their name, contracts signed in ink worth more than a house, a spring break so wild it needs to be erased from the internet afterward.
They want it all, even when it contradicts itself.
I don’t judge them. They deserve what they want. I hope they get it. I really do.
But after two years with Matt, I know what I want is smaller and somehow heavier at the same time.
I want him.
I want a couple kids with his eyes and his stubborn chin, running up and down the block until the neighbors joke that we copied and pasted him. I want a driveway that’s always dusty, a basketball hoop that rattles when the ball hits it just right. I want the kind of life where we work hard, then come home and shut the door on the noise. Tell the world to leave us the fuck alone, and for once, it listens.
I used to make wishes on stars when I was younger. Big, dramatic wishes. Fame. Adventure. A life that looked impressive from far away. I got close a few times. Thought I had it right. Thought love was supposed to feel like chaos or fire or something you brag about later.
Then Matt showed up quietly. Not flashy. Not perfect. Just real. He became my best friend before I even realized I was asking the universe for exactly him.
Two years later, I still catch him off guard when I reach for his hand in public, like he can’t believe I’m choosing him again. I am. Every day.
We still have a wish list. We still dream. We still talk about bossing up and settling down, sometimes in the same sentence. But at the center of every version of the future, it’s always us. Always this.
Everyone else can have it all.
I just want you.
Reblogged
@harrystyleslover212 you could so use some of these for the midnight marathon!
Reblogged
home || matt sturniolo
this part is for @ilovestars-13
The new year came, and somehow everything slipped back into routine, as if nothing had ever paused. After we got back from Boston, we cleaned the house together, erasing the last traces of travel and Christmas decorations. Matt dove headfirst into planning the year ahead for his brand and the triplets YouTube.
I spent most of my time at home with Noa, working whenever I could—during naps, while she played quietly on the floor, in stolen moments that never quite felt long enough.
That afternoon, I spent hours working on a design, pouring everything I had into it. When I went to save it, my computer froze—and then it was gone. Completely gone. I stared at the screen, my chest tightening, a sharp, irrational urge to throw something across the room.
As if that wasn’t enough, I’d gotten my period that morning. Ever since it came back after pregnancy, it felt worse than ever—heavy, painful, unforgiving. All I wanted was to go back on birth control, but I was scared after the last time it didn’t work out. Condoms were fine for now—effective—but neither of us really liked them. It all sat heavy in my body, in my mind.
Noa was napping when it finally became too much. I curled up in bed and cried—quietly at first, then with everything spilling out. Pain, frustration, exhaustion, hormones—everything tangled together until I couldn’t tell one feeling from the next.
I didn’t hear the front door open or close downstairs. The only thing that broke through was Matt’s voice when he entered the bedroom.
“Babe?” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”
He dropped everything instantly and sat beside me on the bed.
I sat up and climbed into him like a koala, clinging to him as sobs shook my chest. His arms wrapped around me without hesitation.
“Shh… hey,” he murmured. “Is Noa okay? Are you okay?”
“S-she’s okay,” I hiccupped. “She’s napping.”
“Okay,” he said gently. “Take a deep breath for me, mama. Come on. I’ve got you.”
He rubbed my back in slow, steady circles, grounding me. I followed his breathing until the tightness in my chest loosened just enough to think.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, sniffing. “It’s just… it’s been a lot.”
He reached for a tissue on my nightstand, carefully wiping the tears from my cheeks before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Tell me,” he said, holding me close.
“I got my period and it hurts so bad I felt like I was going to die,” I admitted. “And then I was working on a design for hours and it didn’t save—I was almost done. Everything just hit me at once. I needed to cry.”
“You should’ve called me,” Matt said immediately. “I would’ve come home. I could’ve helped with Noa, at least while you weren’t feeling good.”
“You were working,” I said quietly.
He brushed my hair back from my face. “Nothing is more important than my girls. You know that.”
“I know,” I smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him.
“I love you,” he said. “And I’m really sorry today was so hard.”
Then his tone shifted, warm and gentle. “How about this—you take some Advil. I’ll run you a bath, take care of Noa when she wakes up, and you can read in bed. We’ll order food for dinner. And after she goes down tonight, I’ll give you a massage.”
He kissed my shoulder, lingering there.
“Mmm,” I smiled. “That sounds perfect.”
“How was your day?” I asked.
“It was really good,” he said. “Recording with Tara felt right—I’m glad I finally said yes. She misses you too. I told her she can come over anytime.”
“Aw,” I smiled. “My highlight was seeing the TikTok she posted with you. You looked really good—it honestly made me feel better. I just need time to get used to the clean face look again.”
I rested my palm against his cheek.
“No more burns on your thighs,” he winked.
I laughed. “I didn’t mind them at all.”
“What if Noa thinks I’m Chris now… or Nick?” he suddenly asked, eyes widening.
I giggled. “She won’t. She’s your baby. She probably knows you by your smell or something.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, genuinely panicked.
“Matt,” I smiled. “She knows who you are.”
“Dada is everything to her,” I added softly.
“She loves you too,” he laughed.
“No,” I joked. “She loves my boobs. Today she was calling all her stuffies ‘dada.’”
“My sweet girl,” he said with a pout.
I smiled and snuggled closer, resting fully against him.
“I’m really glad you’re home,” I whispered. I had needed him all day more than I realized.
He kissed the side of my head and held me there, quietly, until we heard Noa calling from her room.
“I’ve got her,” he said. “You relax.”
As he left the room, I watched him go, my chest aching in that familiar, tender way.
Matt wasn’t just home. He was the feeling of safety settling into my bones—the proof that home was never a place, but a person.
Reblogged
people watching
note: pictures are from pinterest, title is a conan gray reference
matt sturniolo x reader
@sleepinourtears i'm delivering your much promised angst!! also i deleted my entire hate to be lame and i'm writing it again cuz i hated it. BUT I REALLY LOVEEE the new one.
maybe matt broke up with you because you were too much.
you smiled when things were bad.
when people told awful jokes, you laughed like it was the funniest thing you had ever heard.
you laughed so hard you almost cried.
and maybe that was one of the reasons why matt left you, why he left you for her.
but he still insisted the two of you were still friends.
it had been almost four years since he had broken up with you, and you were still obsessing over him. matt had moved on, he was happy.
it had been almost forty-nine months since matt had started dating his current girlfriend, forty-nine months of you moping and watching their feed.
making fun of them.
imagining if you were her.
and maybe in some sick, twisted way it satisfied you. it made you happy. it fulfilled something inside of you.
you imagined that you were the one who had a ring on your finger, you were the one insisting the two of you weren't engaged.
you were the one matt smiled at.
Anonymous asked:
What are some of your favorite writers at the moment? And what is some of there work that you would recommend? I'm running out of things to read 😭
Some of my favorite writers are:
I would recommend photograph by ceyanabbiolo
The dad Matt series by cherriesformatt
The midnights marathon by Harrystyleslover212
Instinct by pepsipoet
And welcome to the end of the world by delilahsturniolo
😌❤️
Ruin the friendship...
Warnings: angst, mentions of passing away.
Chris and Leah shared a comfortable, easy friendship throughout high school. They navigated late-night drives under glistening September rain, the glow of neon signs reflecting off grey overpasses, and the simple joy of watching the football game that happened every Tuesday from Leah's brothers jeep.
Chris had always had feelings for Leah ever since they were kids. his fear of being rejected or making things awkward in second period always kept him from telling her. He couldn't loose the one good thing in his life. So he he stayed silent.
But what Chris didnt know was staying silent would forever be one of his greatest regrets.
Prom night was a blur of cheap disco balls and the sticky sheen of polished floors and kids sneaking in alcohol. Chris was one of the only people without a date. It wouldnt be right to ask a girl to prom who he had no feelings for whatsoever. Leah was there, a wilted corsage dangled from her wrist.
Chris watched her, catching her eye over someone's shoulder. For a fleeting moment, he wanted to kiss her. But the thought of "convenient" and the risk to their friendship held him back.
He’d rationalize it later, telling himself, "it was not an invitation," but looking back god he wished he kissed her.
After graduation, life pulled them in different directions. Chris left boston to pursue YouTube and Leah went to some fancy art school. As time passed the regret of not kissing her still lingerd but he was content with the thought she was living her dreams and happy. She wasnt...
They still kept in touch but over time they began to drift apart. Then, a call from one of Leah's friends one he hadnt taked to since high-school.
His stomach dropping as he heard the devastating news. Leah had passed in a devastating way and they'd never know why she did it. Overwhelmed with grief and a tidal wave of unspoken words, Chris flew home.
Her funeral was surrounded by family and friends who loved her deeply...who she loved so deeply.
He found himself standing at her grave, the words of his lifelong regret finally finding voice in a whisper carried by the wind: "Should've kissed you anyway." He understood now, more than ever, that sometimes the greatest mistake is not making a mistake at all, but letting fear dictate your actions, leaving you with a lifetime of "what ifs."
And Chris would never know that all she had ever wanted was him. And she would never know Chris wanted to be with her just as much as she did.
It's always ruin the friendship 💋
-Star ❤️⭐️