sturniololuv3r

[sturniololuv3r]

So I think it’s officially safe to say goodbye to this account. I won’t be disabling it, but I will no longer be posting due to personal reasons. I may or may not come back life is unpredictable, and you never really know but for now, this is where I step away.

Thank you so much to the friends I’ve made and the ones I’ve lost along the way, and to everyone who’s shown me kindness and support. I know I’ve never been one to post about follower counts or numbers, but please know I genuinely appreciate every single person who has been here for me, even in small ways.

This account has held so many memories for me, and I’ll always carry that with me. Thank you for the laughs, the late-night talks, and for simply being here. -Arla out 🫶🏼

[sturniololuv3r]

Hey its The Matt Girl I accidentally blocked you when I went to click on your notification on my phone to follow you back and so yeah imma need you to follow us back if you accept my apology 🥺🥺🥺

-- The Matt Girl

It’s all good i accept your apology 💗💗

[sturniololuv3r]

Okay yall so im making some arrangements and most of my fics y/n will not be the triplets sister instead there friend because j want to be more open to writing more things but feel free to ask for triplets sister ill gladly write it !! 💗

[sturniololuv3r]

“Peach in the afternoon”

The kind of stillness in the room couldn’t be planned.

It was late afternoon, the sun warm and heavy as it filtered through your bedroom window, stretching long streaks of gold across the floor. The air conditioner hummed softly in the background, more white noise than sound, barely noticeable above the gentle rustling of blankets and the rise and fall of your breaths.

Nathan was lying beside you, half-under the covers, one arm draped lazily over your waist. You’d been like this for a while now — legs tangled, his hoodie swallowing your frame, the room filled with that rare, calm silence that only came with being completely safe. With being seen.

You weren’t talking. There wasn’t really anything to say. The show on your laptop had been playing quietly for almost an hour, neither of you fully watching. You’d stopped paying attention halfway through the second episode, your focus shifting to the feel of Nathan’s fingers lightly tracing patterns against your back, slow and absentminded.

It felt like something he didn’t even realize he was doing — and you didn’t want him to stop.

You were curled into his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin, lips brushing the fabric of his hoodie when you moved. The scent of his cologne still clung to him — something faint and clean, like cedar and laundry detergent and him.

Eventually, without warning, he shifted a little, brushing your hair back and tilting your chin toward him.

You looked up at him, and he didn’t say anything — just leaned down to kiss you.

It was soft. Familiar. Not rushed or deep or searching, just… there. The kind of kiss people give when they don’t need anything from you but your presence. A steady, quiet kind of love.

But after a beat, he pulled back, blinking. He looked at you like he was processing something.

“Wait…”

You blinked too. “What?”

His eyes dropped to your lips, then back to yours again. His head tilted slightly, thoughtful.

“That tastes different,” he said quietly. “Like… sweet. Fruity?”

You smiled a little. “Oh. Yeah. I used a new lip gloss.”

He squinted, as if trying to guess the flavor just by memory. Then he leaned forward again — another kiss, just a quick one — and pulled back slowly, a soft smile forming.

“Peach?” he guessed.

You nodded. “Mhmm. You like it?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you for a second, like something about the answer was more than just the flavor. Then he nodded, his voice quieter this time.

“Yeah. I do.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his tone. You tucked yourself back into the curve of his chest, smiling to yourself against the cotton of his hoodie. He adjusted his arm to wrap a little tighter around your waist, and you sighed softly, letting yourself settle deeper into him.

The laptop had long gone to the Netflix “Are you still watching?” screen, but neither of you moved to restart it. There was too much peace here to break.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

Then Nathan spoke again — voice low, almost thoughtful.

“Maybe tomorrow you can try cherry.”

You smiled against his chest. “What, doing a flavor test now?”

“Just thinking ahead,” he replied. “Peach suits you. But cherry might be fun.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Probably,” he said, pressing his chin gently to the top of your head. “But I mean it.”

You looked up at him again, and this time, his gaze lingered on you longer. Not searching. Not teasing. Just… looking. Like the moment mattered. Like you mattered.

You whispered, “Okay. Cherry tomorrow.”

He smiled — a soft, real one — and kissed your forehead.

“Peach today,” he murmured. “Cherry tomorrow. And whatever comes after that, I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest ached a little at that. The good kind. The safe kind.

You didn’t say anything else.

You just laid there in his arms, warm and quiet, tasting like peach and trust and all the small, sacred things love is made of.

(I know j said I wasn’t gonna write for a bit but I got this idea and I didn’t want to wait to post it because it’s just so cutenesss 😭💗)

[sturniololuv3r]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓂ℯ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

🎵 **Music:**

Nintendo 64 - alexgoffline, savior - sombr, Daddy issues - the neighborhood, feel better - Penelope Scott, waiting room - phoebe bridgers, sextape - deftones, indigo - San barber, strangers - Kenya grace, church - Chase Atlantic, cassie - Chase Atlantic, runway walk - demrick, famous - Isabel LaRosa, worship - Ari Abdul, southbound - artemas, out of my league - fitz and the tantrums, melting - kali uchis.

🌸 **About me:**

- I’m 19, born on July 16th.

- My fav color is pink.

- I have five cats, one dog, and 5 puppies.

- I’m a nail tech (5+ years).

- I’m bisexual.

- Nate girl and Matt girl.

- I have pink hair & love dramatic makeup.

- I’m also a dancer and I think I’m a well singer.

📺 **Fav shows:**

The summer I turned pretty, stranger things, the walking dead, 2 broke girls, gossip girl, never have I ever, on my block.

🎬 **Movies:**

Home, how to train your dragon, mean girls, storks, Pete’s dragon, grown ups, Ted, Deadpool and Wolverine.

🖤 **Fun facts:**

- [ I cry over sad songs even when I’m not sad.]

“I wanna disappear so badly, but nobody even sees me.” – Penelope Scott

[sturniololuv3r]

“Skin that burns”

(Pt 2)

It had been weeks.

Weeks of pretending you were fine.

Of smiling through dinners and dodging Nate’s name when your brothers brought him up like nothing happened.

He never stopped coming around.

He still laughed at Matt’s dumb impressions.

Still watched sports with Nick.

Still helped Chris carry groceries in.

But he never looked at you.

And you? You stopped waiting for him to.

⸻

Until one night — quiet, late, the house half-asleep — you stepped out onto the porch again.

Same place. Same creaky steps.

Same knot in your chest.

You sat alone this time, legs pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands. The night was cold in that early-summer kind of way — warm air, but a chill deep in your bones you couldn’t shake.

Then you heard the door.

Soft. Hesitant.

Footsteps. Familiar.

You didn’t look up.

Not at first.

But then you felt it — the shift in the air. That ache in your chest that only ever came with one person.

Nathan sat down beside you, not too close.

Not touching.

Not yet.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t sharp this time. It wasn’t angry. It was just… sad.

He was the one to break it.

“I didn’t know how to come back from that night.”

Your heart kicked. You didn’t speak.

He kept going, his voice quiet. Rough.

“You asked if I still wanted you… and the truth is, I didn’t know how to want anything. I was so far in my own head, I couldn’t even see what I was doing to you. I thought staying quiet was safer than saying the wrong thing.”

You finally turned to look at him. His hands were clenched in his lap, knuckles white. His eyes were on the ground.

“But I should’ve fought for you,” he whispered. “And I didn’t. I let you walk away because I thought I didn’t deserve you anymore.”

Your voice cracked.

“You didn’t even try, Nate.”

His head dropped lower. He nodded. Once.

“I know.”

Another long pause.

And then, softly:

“Do you think we’re too far gone?”

Your chest ached.

You looked at him — really looked — and saw the boy who used to pull you closer in a room full of people. The boy who used to rest his forehead against yours just to breathe in the same rhythm. The boy who sat on this exact porch and let you go, thinking it would hurt less than the truth.

And maybe… the boy who was finally ready to be honest.

You swallowed, tears burning behind your eyes.

“I think I still love you more than it hurts.”

That made him look at you — really look. Eyes full of something like disbelief. Like hope he was too afraid to ask for.

“I don’t want to be the reason you flinch,” he whispered.

“I want to be the reason you come home.”

And then—carefully, slowly, like he was afraid you’d break—he reached for your hand.

You let him.

Because it didn’t burn this time.

It didn’t feel like pressure.

It felt like warmth.

Like coming back to a place that had waited for you all along.

⸻

LATER THAT NIGHT

He didn’t kiss you.

He just laid next to you on your bed — no touching, no rush — and talked until both your voices gave out.

And in the morning, when the sunlight crept through the curtains, you woke up to his hand still in yours.

⸻

He doesn’t say “I love you” right away.

But when he finally does, months later — slow and certain — it sounds like a promise this time.

And when you say it back?

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

[sturniololuv3r]

“Skin That Burns”

(Based off this song)

⸻

It started small.

Most endings do.

He still showed up. Still knocked on the front door even though your family said he didn’t have to. Still let Matt steal his fries, still let Chris clown him about the Bruins. Still nodded along when Nick asked, “You good?” like the question wasn’t always more complicated than a yes.

And he still kissed you.

Sometimes.

When the others weren’t looking.

But it wasn’t the kind of kiss that made you feel alive anymore.

It was the kind of kiss that made you ache for what it used to mean.

⸻

You tried not to take inventory, but you did anyway.

• You couldn’t remember the last time he grabbed your hand without thinking.

• You couldn’t remember the last time he laughed with you instead of around you.

• You couldn’t remember the last time he looked at you and saw you.

Not the little sister of his best friends.

Not the girl he used to kiss in the backseat of the van when no one was looking.

You.

Now, when he looked at you, it was like he was trying to remember something he didn’t know how to find anymore.

⸻

It had been like this for weeks.

No fights. No screaming. Just this slow, quiet undoing.

Like someone pulled the thread, and now everything’s unraveling and neither of you can stop it — or say it.

You almost wished he’d yell. Or cheat. Or leave.

At least then there’d be a reason.

Something solid. Something final.

Not this gray-area ache where love used to live.

⸻

That night, the house smelled like pasta and basil and comfort.

Your brothers were inside, fighting over something dumb on TV. You could hear Chris laughing, Matt yelling, Nick throwing in the occasional deadpan comment.

Nathan sat next to you on the porch steps, just like always.

Too close for a stranger.

Too far for a boyfriend.

You didn’t look at him.

You couldn’t.

Not yet.

So you asked — quiet, careful, tired:

“Do you still want me, or is this just comfort?”

He didn’t answer.

The pause stretched long.

Too long.

Long enough that you already knew.

Then his hand slid onto your leg — soft, slow, familiar.

And it burned.

Not from heat.

From the absence of warmth that used to be there.

You flinched.

Not because he hurt you.

Because you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt anymore.

You turned to him. Really looked at him. Eyes searching for the version of him that used to fight for you. Smile for you. Need you.

He just looked tired.

So you said it:

“If your love feels like this now… I don’t want it anymore.”

There was no reaction.

No grabbing your hand.

No wait, please.

No I’ll fix it.

Just silence.

Just Nathan, sitting there with everything you once shared on the tip of his tongue — and no courage left to say it.

So you stood. Walked inside. Closed the door.

Behind you, the laughter from your brothers kept going.

And outside?

Nathan sat alone. Still.

With a mouth full of words he never said —

and a heart he didn’t realize was already breaking.

⸻

AFTERMATH:

He keeps showing up.

Still jokes with the boys. Still walks into the kitchen like nothing’s changed.

But he never goes near your room again.

You pass each other sometimes.

In the hallway. On the stairs.

A nod. A look. Nothing more.

And that’s what hurts most.

You lost each other slowly —

and he let you.

(screaming, crying, throwing up, like im going through it and writing angst just makes me feel better)

[sturniololuv3r]

“Outside the noise”

The music pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat you didn’t want to feel.

Laughter spilled from the house like it belonged to someone else.

Too many voices.

Too much light.

Too much everything.

You slipped out the back door without anyone noticing. No one ever really did.

Now you sat curled on the porch steps, knees hugged to your chest, fingers digging into the sleeves of your sweater like they could keep you from falling apart.

The sky was quiet. Dark.

And for a second, so were you.

Until the door creaked behind you.

Your body stiffened, hoping it was no one. Praying they’d go back inside.

But then—

The steps creaked once.

Then again.

You looked up.

It was him.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you for a beat with those soft, steady eyes like he knew—without needing to ask—exactly what this was.

He pulled off his hoodie wordlessly and draped it over your shoulders. It smelled like him. Like safety.

Then he sat down beside you. Close, but not too close. His shoulder brushed yours just barely, like a quiet reminder:

I’m here.

You stayed like that for a moment.

Still breathing too fast. Still wound up.

And then—without thinking—you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t make a joke or ask if you were okay.

He just stayed.

The warmth of him. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The fabric of the hoodie pulled around you like a shield.

You closed your eyes.

And for the first time that night—

The world got quiet.

Not because the noise stopped,

But because he made it bearable.

Because even in the middle of the chaos,

He found you.

And stayed.

[sturniololuv3r]

“Worth it”

You felt like hell.

Throat sore, nose stuffed, head pounding. The kind of sick that makes your entire body ache, like even your eyelashes are tired. You were curled on the couch in the most pathetic position possible, surrounded by crumpled tissues, a mug of lukewarm tea, and a blanket that wasn’t nearly warm enough.

Your phone buzzed once.

Then again.

Then came the knock at the door.

You groaned. “What now?”

Dragging yourself up, you shuffled across the room and cracked the door open, nose red and eyes bleary.

There he was.

Nate.

Holding a brown paper bag, your favorite blanket under one arm, and a smug little smile on his face.

“Delivery for the saddest sick person in the city,” he said, stepping inside like he owned the place.

You blinked at him. “I look awful.”

“You look adorable.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “But only a little.”

⸻

Ten minutes later, you were back on the couch, swaddled in the good blanket — the one he knew you loved but always forgot to steal back — and holding a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup he insisted on feeding you.

You tried to argue. He ignored you completely.

Then he turned on the TV. Cartoons. Stupid ones. Your favorites.

“You’re going to get sick,” you warned, coughing into your sleeve.

“I’m immune,” he said confidently.

You raised an eyebrow.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead — for the third time in twenty minutes.

“Nate,” you groaned, “stop. I’m literally a biohazard.”

“Worth it,” he said without hesitation.

“You’re gonna regret that.”

He kissed your cheek next. “Still worth it.”

You sighed, settling against him with your head on his shoulder. He didn’t pull away. Just wrapped his arm around you, fingers gently running up and down your arm like a soothing rhythm.

The world blurred a little. The fever, the cartoons, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” you mumbled, half-asleep.

He smiled, his voice soft as he kissed your hair. “You’d do the same.”

You didn’t answer — you were already drifting. But he stayed there anyway, holding you, watching the dumb cartoons long after you were snoring.

And yeah, maybe he would catch your cold.

But even if he did?

He already knew.

Worth it.

[sturniololuv3r]

“A mess worth making”

The plan was simple.

Paint your room.

Fresh start. New vibe. Something light, something soft — “Ocean Mist Blue,” the paint can said.

You thought it would be peaceful. Therapeutic, even.

You were wrong.

⸻

“I told you not to fill the tray so high,” you said, glaring down at the splatter across the floor.

Nate shrugged, holding the roller like a weapon of mass destruction. “I was going for maximum coverage.”

“You’re going for maximum disaster.”

He dipped the roller again — recklessly — and dragged it across the wall in a way that somehow made the color drip and patch at the same time.

You laughed. “You’re literally the worst painter alive.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, turning to you with a smirk.

Your eyes widened. “Nate, don’t.”

He stepped forward, roller raised like a sword.

“Nate—I swear to God—”

Too late. A streak of cool blue smeared across your cheek.

You gasped.

He grinned. “Now you match the wall.”

Without thinking, you grabbed a brush and flicked a dot of paint at his shirt.

He looked down. “War, huh?”

And that was it.

Game on.

⸻

Fifteen minutes later:

• There was paint in your hair.

• Two rollers had been abandoned in a panic chase around the room.

• Your walls were… not exactly even.

• Your hands were blue.

• So was your nose.

And Nate? Nate had a full handprint across his chest.

“You’re a menace,” you told him breathlessly, collapsed on the floor with your knees curled up.

He knelt beside you, laughing, wiping his sweaty forehead with a towel that immediately turned blue. “You started it.”

“You painted my face.”

He grinned, fingers reaching to gently swipe a smudge from your cheek — then hesitated. “Wait. No, that one’s actually kinda cute.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He leaned in slowly, smile fading into something softer. “This.”

He kissed you — warm, slow, perfect — with paint-stained hands and blue fingerprints on your cheeks.

You kissed him back, laughing into it, because it was ridiculous and messy and real.

The room was a disaster. The walls were streaky. The floors were ruined.

But your heart?

It had never felt clearer.

You leaned your forehead against his, both of you breathing in the scent of paint and something sweeter.

“I think we’re gonna need a second coat,” you whispered.

He smiled. “Or just live with it. This room’s got character now.”

You looked around — at the smudges, the chaos, the trail of blue fingerprints along the doorframe — and nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “So do we.”

[sturniololuv3r]

“You didn’t remember”

Maybe it was dumb. Maybe it was childish. But you thought—this year would be different. This year, you wouldn’t have to remind them. This year, they’d show you you mattered without you having to ask.

It was your birthday.

You kept your expectations low. You didn’t want gifts. You didn’t want a party.

You just wanted to be seen.

⸻

The morning passed quietly. Too quietly.

No knocks on your door.

No texts.

No “happy birthday” called from the kitchen.

You tried brushing it off.

They were busy. Maybe planning something. Maybe pretending they forgot on purpose. Nate had done that once—said nothing all morning, then surprised you with your favorite cake at sunset. You clung to that memory like a life raft.

But by 2PM, the silence started to sting.

By 4PM, it was a bruise.

By 6PM, it was a knife in your chest.

⸻

They were out. All of them.

You watched their Instagram stories update in real-time:

Nate at some event, drink in hand, smiling with people you didn’t know.

Chris laughing in the back of someone’s car, face lit up with neon.

Matt at a diner, making jokes with the waiter.

Nick filming a chaotic group dance at what looked like a house party.

You watched each video like it might suddenly change and include you. Like maybe the camera would pan and you’d see yourself in the background—present. Remembered.

But you weren’t.

You weren’t even mentioned.

They weren’t planning anything.

They just forgot.

All of them.

Even your favorite triplet—the one who used to swear he’d never let a day go by without checking in.

Even Nate, who once told you, “You’re my person.”

⸻

You sat on your bed as the sun went down, wrapped in a hoodie two sizes too big. The one Nate gave you. The one that still smelled like him.

The glow from your phone felt sickening.

You turned it off.

No point waiting for a text that wasn’t coming.

No point watching people you loved laugh without you.

Not today.

Not on your birthday.

You weren’t angry. Not really.

Just… tired.

Tired of giving people every piece of yourself only to realize they never even looked at the calendar.

You didn’t cry. Not at first.

You just curled into the quiet. Into the kind of loneliness that doesn’t scream—it just settles. Heavy. Familiar.

You whispered into the dark:

“I didn’t want much. I just wanted someone to remember.”

[sturniololuv3r]

“The Shoes by the Door”

(I’m going through an emotional crisis)

⸻

You knew something was wrong the second you opened the door and felt nothing.

No music playing from his phone. No hoodie tossed across the back of the couch. No familiar footsteps padding down the hallway to greet you like always.

Just… silence.

You called his name once. Then again, louder. No response.

His shoes were still by the door. His backpack still slumped against the wall.

The toothbrush he used every night still sat next to yours in the cup by the sink.

Everything was here.

Except him.

⸻

At first, it was panic.

You called every hospital in a 50-mile radius. Walked into shelters. Posted online. Asked friends, neighbors, strangers. Nick drove around for hours with you. Matt stayed up all night checking every camera on the street. Chris kept refreshing his location even though it hadn’t moved.

Days passed.

Then a week.

Then another.

No word.

No message.

No sign.

You barely slept. You barely breathed.

Everyone tried to help, but no one knew how. No one understood. Because none of them were there the night he looked you in the eyes—hands shaking from a panic attack—and said, “You’re my safe place.”

He meant it.

Didn’t he?

⸻

The fear slowly turned into something else. Something heavier.

Why didn’t he say goodbye?

Why didn’t he leave a note?

Why didn’t he think I deserved the truth?

You told yourself you were angry. But really, you were breaking in slow motion.

You tore your room apart searching for answers. His books. His sketchpad. Old hoodies. Receipts. Train tickets. A photo booth strip from when you dragged him to the pier even though he said he hated crowds.

You slept in his hoodie, even when it stopped smelling like him.

You talked to his empty bed.

You left the bathroom light on every night just in case he came back.

And then… you found it.

A voice memo on an old iPod he used to record music ideas.

“Play Me Last,” it was titled.

⸻

Your hands shook pressing play.

His voice cracked immediately.

“I didn’t want to leave. I need you to know that. God, I didn’t want to leave.”

You sat on the floor. Hugged your knees to your chest.

“But I can’t stay and keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not. I’m not okay, and I’ve been lying to you every day. About how bad it’s gotten.”

“You always said I saved you. But you don’t understand—you saved me. You made me feel real again. Human. Wanted.”

“But now I feel like I’m dragging you down. Like you’re drowning trying to hold me up. And I love you too much to keep doing that to you.”

“I love you. That’s why I’m leaving.”

“I’m not running from you. I’m running from who I become when I can’t breathe.”

“I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

“Please don’t stop believing in love. Not because of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sor—”

The recording ended mid-word.

You didn’t realize you were sobbing until you tasted salt. Your chest ached like something inside you had been hollowed out.

He didn’t leave because he stopped loving you.

He left because he thought disappearing would protect you.

And that hurt more than hate. More than betrayal.

Because it meant he was hurting—and you didn’t see it.

Because he trusted you with everything except the part that said he wanted to die just a little less than he wanted you to live happy.

⸻

The triplets found you later that night curled up on the living room floor, gripping his hoodie like it was a lifeline.

Chris didn’t ask. He just sat behind you and held you.

Matt quietly lit the candle he used when he was grieving.

Nick wrapped a blanket around you both and whispered, “We’re gonna find him.”

And maybe you would.

But even if you didn’t…

You’d never let him vanish without being remembered.

Never let the world forget that he was here. That he mattered. That he was loved.

You kept the toothbrush in its place.

The shoes by the door.

Just in case.

[sturniololuv3r]

Can you do a similar fic to the you just did but instead of Nate dying he’s in the hospital and there is a happy ending

“Please wake up”

You didn’t even remember what started the argument. Something stupid. Something small. But it escalated fast, too fast.

Nate had raised his voice. So had you.

“You don’t even care!” you’d screamed, eyes brimming with tears. “You never fight for me, you just leave!”

He looked like you’d slapped him. “You seriously think I don’t care?”

You didn’t answer fast enough. Or maybe you did.

“Maybe we’re both wasting our time,” he muttered, grabbing his keys.

You chased after him, angry and afraid. “You always run when things get hard.”

He stopped in the doorway. Turned around with eyes filled with pain. “At least I don’t tear people apart just because I’m scared to be loved.”

Then he walked out.

You let him go.

⸻

You were still shaking when your phone rang. Chris’s name. You almost didn’t answer.

But your world shattered with three words:

“There was an accident.”

⸻

He’d lost control in the rain. Hit a guardrail. The EMTs said he was lucky to be alive.

Now you were sitting in the cold hospital waiting room, wrapped in Matt’s hoodie, hands trembling in your lap. You kept replaying the fight. Every word. Every awful, sharp syllable.

“I didn’t mean it,” you whispered into your palms. “God, please—just let him wake up.”

Nick sat beside you, resting his arm around your shoulders. “He’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. It’s Nate. He’s stubborn as hell.”

You laughed, just barely. It faded into a quiet sob.

Chris came back from talking with the nurse. “They said we can go in. One at a time.”

You stood instantly. “Me first.”

⸻

The beeping of machines filled the room, steady and terrifying.

Nate looked pale. Bruised. Tubes and wires made him seem fragile—something Nate had never been.

You sat by the edge of the bed and grabbed his hand gently, threading your fingers through his.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “For the fight. For what I said. For letting you leave like that.”

You laid your forehead against his arm. “I love you. Even when I’m mad. Even when I’m messy. I need you to wake up so I can say it when you’re actually awake.”

A tear slid down your cheek.

“I don’t care about the argument. I just want you to come back to me.”

Silence. Beep. Beep. Beep.

And then—his fingers twitched.

You sat up fast. “Nate?”

He blinked slowly, groaning faintly. “…Ow.”

A broken laugh slipped from your mouth. “Oh my God.”

His eyes fluttered open. Barely. But they were open.

“Hey,” you whispered. “You’re okay.”

He looked around, confused. Then his eyes met yours. “You’re crying.”

“You’re alive,” you choked out, laughing through the tears. “You idiot, you scared me so bad.”

“I crashed?” he mumbled.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. But you’re okay now. And we’re okay. I promise.”

He gave the faintest smile. “I didn’t mean what I said either.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you more. And I’m never letting you storm off again.”

“Good,” he whispered. “Hospital beds suck.”

⸻

Outside the room, your brothers waited. The second they saw you smiling through your tears, Chris exhaled hard. Matt wiped at his eyes. Nick muttered, “Told you he’s too stubborn to die.”

You nodded, finally breathing for the first time in hours.

Nate was safe.

You had a second chance.

And you wouldn’t waste it.

[sturniololuv3r]

“Invisible in the noise”

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really.

Nick was traveling, constantly filming and editing and managing brand deals. Matt was always out of the house, wrapped up in events or merch drops. Chris was in and out, more distracted than usual, phone glued to his hand. And Nate? He was everywhere now. Blowing up. Interviews. Pop-ups. Photoshoots.

They were all doing amazing.

Living the dream.

Blazing forward like rockets.

And you?

You felt stuck. Left behind. Like your life was unraveling quietly while everyone else’s was on fire in the best way.

You barely ate. Barely slept. Your thoughts were loud and heavy and unforgiving. But you smiled when they were around. Laughed when Nate FaceTimed. Said you were fine so many times that you almost believed it yourself.

Almost.

⸻

It started small. A quiet text to Chris:

“Hey, can we talk?”

No reply. You saw he read it. Then posted a story five minutes later.

So you tried Matt:

“You home tonight?”

“Just wanna hang out or something idk”

“Busy, sorry. Maybe tomorrow.”

Tomorrow didn’t come.

Then Nate:

“I miss you.”

“I’m not doing too good lately.”

“Sorry, bubs. I’m swamped. I’ll call you later.”

He didn’t.

⸻

You sat on your bed, knees tucked to your chest, trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. The kind of ache that made you feel hollow and heavy all at once.

You wanted to scream. Or cry. Or disappear. But mostly, you just wanted someone to notice.

To look at you and say,

“Hey… are you really okay?”

But no one did.

⸻

A week passed. Maybe two. You stopped asking. Stopped trying. They were all too busy to care. And maybe you were just being dramatic. Overthinking. Making it about you when it wasn’t.

So you shrank. Quieted. Got smaller.

But the weight didn’t.

⸻

One night, while they were out filming, you left a note on the fridge. Just one sentence. Not a goodbye, not a threat. Just:

“I don’t feel real anymore.”

Then you left.

No phone. No location. Just silence.

⸻

They found the note when they got home. Chris read it out loud, voice cracking mid-sentence. Nick checked your room, then the garage, then outside. Matt tried calling your phone even though he knew you didn’t have it.

Nate didn’t even wait for them — he ran. Didn’t know where. Just ran. Until he found you.

You were sitting on the swings at the park down the block, hood pulled up, arms wrapped around yourself like they were the only thing keeping you together.

He stopped, breathing hard. “Y/N.”

You didn’t look up.

He sat beside you, quiet.

You finally whispered, “I tried to tell you.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t need a hundred texts. I just needed one of you to notice that I wasn’t okay.”

He looked wrecked. Guilty. “You were always the strong one. I just… assumed you’d be fine until you told me you weren’t.”

“I did tell you.”

He nodded slowly, jaw clenched. “You did. And I brushed you off.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and honest.

Then he said, “I’m here now. I swear to God, I’m here. And I’m not leaving you in the background anymore.”

Your voice cracked. “I don’t want to be background. I want to matter again.”

“You do.” He turned to face you, his voice shaking. “You always did. We just lost sight of it. But I see you now. I promise I do.”

And for the first time in weeks, you let yourself cry. Not quietly, not hidden. Just open. Raw.

He held you. No fixing. No advice. Just arms around you like they should’ve been this whole time.

⸻

Later that night, when you came back home, Chris hugged you so tightly it hurt. Matt didn’t even speak — he just cried into your shoulder. Nick whispered, “We’re sorry,” over and over.

And for the first time, they didn’t just ask if you were okay.

They listened when you told them you weren’t.

[sturniololuv3r]

“The last words that hurt”

(I accidentally deleted the request)

You stood in the middle of the hallway, chest rising and falling fast, fists clenched at your sides. The last words you said were still hanging in the air like smoke.

“You’re just like every other guy — pretending to care until it gets hard.”

He turned back once — face tight with pain and anger.

“Yeah? At least I’m not some emotionally unstable brat who pushes away everyone who tries to love her.”

Then he left. Slammed the door. Got in his car.

And you let him go.

⸻

It was raining now. The kind of LA rain that showed up out of nowhere, sudden and unrelenting. You sat on the living room floor, knees pulled to your chest, your phone burning a hole in your hand. You thought about texting him. A hundred times.

But your pride still lingered.

You waited for a ping. A message. Something. Anything.

But it never came.

Instead, Chris answered the call first. And everything changed in an instant.

⸻

They said it happened fast.

He lost control on the slick curve a few blocks from the house. Hit a light pole. They think it was the rain. They don’t know for sure.

What they do know? He didn’t make it.

⸻

Your scream shook the whole house. You collapsed on the carpet as Matt and Nick ran to you. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You were sobbing so hard your ribs hurt.

“No, no, no—please, no,” you cried over and over again, voice breaking.

“I didn’t mean it—I didn’t mean it—I didn’t mean it.”

Chris sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you completely fell apart. You clung to his hoodie like it was the only thing holding you to Earth.

“I told him I hated him,” you sobbed. “I said he didn’t care. I let him leave.”

Matt knelt down in front of you, eyes red. “Y/N, stop. Please. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“But it’s true. If I hadn’t started the fight—if I’d just said sorry—he wouldn’t have gotten in that car.”

Nick crouched beside you too, shaking his head, voice raw. “You guys loved each other. He knew that. One fight doesn’t change that.”

“But I never told him I still loved him. Not after I said all those awful things. He died thinking I didn’t—”

Chris’s grip on you tightened. “No. He didn’t. I know Nate. You were his world. One fight doesn’t erase all the nights you held hands, all the times he looked at you like you were everything.”

You sat in silence, your sobs fading to quiet shaking. The room felt frozen in time. The guilt sat on your chest like an anchor.

You wished you could go back.

You wished you’d stopped him.

You wished your last words weren’t poison.

But you couldn’t change the past.

All you could do now was carry it. And hope — somehow — Nate knew the truth:

That you loved him more than anything.

Even if your last words didn’t say it.

(I think I just sobbed the whole time writing this)

[sturniololuv3r]

hiii i was wondering if i could first be added to your taglist and second could you do the triplets little sister getting caught by the triplets smoking with nate and their upset (could her and nate live in la reader living with the triplets if that’s okay?)

“What were you thinking?”

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the edge of the backyard wall. You and Nate were tucked behind the garage, sitting on the old plastic chairs you’d dragged back there months ago — your unofficial secret hangout spot.

A joint rested between his fingers, the smoke curling slowly in the warm air.

You took a slow hit, holding it in before exhaling with a soft laugh. “They’re not gonna come out here. Relax.”

Nate grinned. “You say that every time.”

“I’ve been right every time.”

Famous last words.

Because a second later, you both heard it: the backyard door sliding open, then someone calling out.

“Yo, Y/N?”

Matt.

You both panicked. Nate flicked the joint behind a brick planter. You tried to wave the smoke away like that would erase everything.

Chris appeared first, then Nick and Matt trailing behind him — and the second Chris saw you two sitting there with your suspicious faces and red eyes, his entire body stiffened.

Nick stopped walking. “Are you serious?”

Matt’s expression dropped. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.”

You didn’t say anything. Nate didn’t either.

The silence answered for you.

Chris ran a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You really did that here? At our house?” Matt asked, his voice sharp but not yelling. “Y/N, you live with us. What the hell were you thinking?”

You swallowed, guilt rising in your chest. “I didn’t think you’d find out—”

“That’s the problem,” Nick cut in. “You weren’t thinking.”

Nate stood up, not defensive, just taking the heat. “This one’s on me too. I shouldn’t have brought it around her.”

Chris looked at him, brows tight. “You’re our best friend. You know how we are with her. You knew we wouldn’t be cool with this.”

“I didn’t force her to do anything,” Nate said quickly. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I know,” Nick said, quieter now. “That’s not even what this is about. It’s about trust. It’s about you two sneaking around like we wouldn’t care.”

Matt crossed his arms. “We’re not mad that you made a mistake, Y/N. We’re upset that you couldn’t just talk to us about it. You’re not some little kid. You know we’re protective for a reason.”

Chris looked hurt, not angry. “I don’t care if it was weed or if it was whatever. I care that you didn’t even think about how we’d feel if we caught you. It’s the hiding it. That’s what sucks.”

“I know,” you said, your voice small. “I’m sorry. Both of us are.”

Nathan nodded beside you. “It won’t happen again. We’re not gonna be stupid like that again.”

A long pause stretched between all of you.

Matt finally broke it with a deep breath. “We’re not gonna ground you. You’re not twelve. But you’ve gotta earn back that trust.”

Chris pointed between you and Nate. “This isn’t just about you being her boyfriend, dude. It’s about being family. And that means something.”

“I get it,” Nate said seriously. “I do.”

Nick’s tone softened. “We’re not mad forever. Just… don’t do this again. Please. We care too much.”

You nodded, eyes burning a little now from more than just the smoke. “I won’t. I swear.”

And just like that, it wasn’t about the joint anymore. It was about love, trust, and the weight of letting down the people who’d always protected you — and knowing you had the chance to earn it back.

(I don’t know when I’m gonna make a tag list but hopefully soon)

[sturniololuv3r]

slut…omw