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lvrsparadise · 7 months

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'ALWAYS.' - M.S

Synopsis - "You and me, always forever."

BASED ON THIS REQUEST

Warnings! - Kissing, profanity, Marylou being amazing, Nick defending Matt n Y/N, Use of Y/N, italics mean flashbacks (you know it's good when I use the flashbacks).

A/N - I literally love this, and I'm so happy I get to write it. Again, I'm sorry it's taken me this long to write this. So fun fact, the dad part is based on my dad. So little ole' fun facto there! I cried while writing this, it's so sweet. Enjoy!!

"Oh my god! Wait do you remember your 18th birthday?!" Nick randomly shouts out.

"Do I remember?? Of course I do. That was literally the best birthday I've ever had. No offense mom." I look at the camera.

Chris fake gags as he takes a sip from his drink and makes a shuddering noise, I just kick the back of his seat.

"Hey! Don't do that!"

I stick my tongue out to him before looking to Matt, our eyes catching for a few seconds as we both silently reminisce about that day.

"Would you like to share with the people why it was such an amazing birthday?"

"Oh, for sure."

I clear my throat and go through each memory of that day, from when I woke up until I went to sleep.

"To start off, I was woken up by my favorite people, and Chris."

"Hey!"

"And we spent the entire day out, courtesy of Marylou, love you, Marylou. And around I want to say 5 or 6 PM, when we all went back to my place, A LOT of people were there. We partied, and it was so much fun. And when it was time for me to open presents, the first one I opened was a binder. And I remember thinking, 'what in the world is this??'. So, I look to my amazing boyfriend, who was standing next to his mother with a shit eating grin on his face, and I open it up and instantly remember what it was."

"Oh my god, your face when you opened it was so priceless." Nick slaps my shoulder, not hard, but hard enough.

"Yeah, I was also crying!"

Everyone, even Chris giggles at my comment. I mean it's true. When I started to go through it, I was crying.

----

I set my energy drink on the table as I reach for a bag covered in glitter with the words 'happy birthday' on it.

"This is a nice bag." I say before ripping out the hot pink tissue paper and looking inside.

"The fuck is this? Oh! Sorry mom!" I dart my eyes to my mom as she rolls her eyes and smacks my shoulder at the curse word.

"Just open it hun!" My mom rests a hand on my shoulder as I take the binder out of the bag and setting it on the table.

I look at Matt, who's standing next to his mom, grinning like an idiot, confusion clear in my gaze as I arch a brow at him. He just waves his hand in a way saying, 'just open it'. So I do.

I flip the binder open, and my mouth falls open in an instant. The first page containing pictures of me and Matt, at least 9 years old, holding hands while I'm in the dress I wore to my mom and stepdads wedding, him in a red flannel, smiles on our faces, and chocolate.

"Oh. My. God. No way." I whisper to myself as I look back to Matt, grinning back at him before looking back down to the binder.

The page also has more pictures of us over the years. One picture I recognize all too well. A picture of me in a black hoodie, over-done eyeliner under my eyes and side swept bangs and instantly cringe at the memory of my embarrassing middle school years before flipping the page to see more pictures.

The picture that sticks out the most, is the picture of me and Matt at prom. Him in his peach pink button up, and my matching dress. I loved prom night.

"Wait what?!" Nick moves to my side with a hand on my shoulder as he looks at the pictures.

"Oh my god! This is that thing mom made for you and Matt when we were kids!"

"Yeah!"

Suddenly everyone gathers around the table, even Matt moving to my side with a hand resting on the small of my back as he looks at it with me.

"Oh my god! I remember this day!" I point to a picture of me and Matt in, I want to say 9th grade, maybe 8th, and we were passed out on each other, not a care in the world.

"That's the day I had my first soccer game. I was so exhausted."

"Yeah, and Matt was so exhausted from cheering you on." My mom and Marylou fist bump and giggle to themselves.

"What can I say? I love supporting my girl." Matt shrugs one shoulder as he uses his free hand to point to a picture of me in our senior year, laying on the beach with my way to floppy straw hat and stripped bathing suit like I was in 2015 again.

"Oh my god no. Not that photo." I make a face at the photo before I flip the page and am greeted with a whole collage of me and my dog, Raul.

I tear up at the photos, seeing as he passed away in the recent year.

"Matt." I turn my head to my boyfriend next to me and smile softly.

I've had that dog since I was maybe 7. So, not having him here for my 18th birthday is pretty sad. But the fact that he's in here, warms my heart.

He just kisses my forehead and gives my hip a reassuring squeeze as I return back to the photos.

"Oh my god! This is the day we got him!" I point to a photo of little seven-year-old me holding the oh so tiny Raul, which is ironically next to a photo of 15-year-old me with a much, much bigger Raul on my lap.

I flip the page again and Nick points to a photo of me, my brother, Matt, Nick, Chris, and Nate in skates, all in different jerseys, with large smiles and our thumbs up. Based on the color of my hair, we were maybe 13 or 14.

"That day was so much fun." Chris points out as he rubs one of my shoulders as small tears roll down my cheeks.

"It was." I smile before flipping the page again, and I feel like a train of memories hit me.

It a page dedicated to my dad, who passed away in 2020. I sniffle and wipe my cheeks before fully looking at each photo.

One is a photo of when I was maybe 5 and we were at his aunt's house in Colorado, with my brother, him, and his aunt. It still hurts to think about his death sometimes. He may not have had a really active role in mine or my brother's lives, but I still loved him. He really tried to make an effort. Even talked about moving closer to us to be more included in our lives. I mean, I get it. He was in the navy and moved around a lot.

I smile softly at a photo of my in his navy suit, although it swallowed me whole. Then there's a photo of me sitting on one of his knees and Matt on the other while Chris Nick and Nate are sitting on the floor with my brother, all of us intently focused on whatever he was reading us.

I flip the page and it's got a little piece of paper with the words 'Y/N bakes!' written on it, in Matt's handwriting.

The first photo I see is me with a large chef's hat and apron on, my hair in two little braids and a full toothy grin, one of my buck teeth missing, as I stir what looks to be batter, but there's flour everywhere. Even a handprint on my cheek I remember Chris put there.

"Oh my god!" I squeal quietly as I study the other photos of me baking various desserts. Always covered in flour.

"You were always the best little baker." I raise my eyebrows at my mom's comment.

"Still am." I point a finger at her and flip the page again, this page filled with my different Halloween costumes.

"That's the year we all went as different Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!" I point to a picture of me and Nick standing next to each other, dressed as Leo and Raph.

"Yeah, and I had to go as Master Splinter." Nate then points to a photo of me Nate and Chris standing together in a weird pose, mainly pointing at himself in a rat costume.

"But you made an amazing Master Splinter!" Nick whines.

"Are you secretly calling me short?!"

"What! No! Never!"

"Uh huh, sure."

I roll my eyes and go back to looking at the photos, my Corpse Bride costume catching my eye.

It's me as Emily, and Matt as Victor, our arms linked and a bouquet of wilted, white spraypainted roses in my hand. That was last year's costume, and we won first place in a costume contest.

Matt flips the page this time, and it's a plethora of photos of me and him, in random cuddling positions, every photo we are fast asleep.

"Who took these?!" My head snaps up as I nail everybody standing at the table with narrowed and squinted eyes, Nick whistling and looking around, totally not guilty at all.

"Nick?" I arch a brow and he just laughs and shakes his head.

"What? Y'all were just too cute."

I roll my eyes and look at all the photos. I remember being insanely comfortable in each and every one of them.

I flip the page to the last page that has more pictures of me and the whole group, including Madi who I met last year, and Tril. All of us fucking around and being dumb teenagers.

And the back of the last page has a letter in it.

To the light of my life, I'm so glad I met you so early on in my life, and I love the fact that you've put up with me for so long as well. I love you so much, and I can't imagine my life without you. I hope you never stop being yourself, and that you keep spreading your light everywhere you go and to everyone you meet. I feel like everyone should have a Y/N in their lives, you make everyone around you so happy, you make them feel included and like they matter and I thought I couldn't love you more. I know you're probably thinking, 'Matt, why'd you keep this?' or 'How did you find it?' Mom kept it safe, and she gave it to me in sophomore year and I kind of scrap booked it and just cut out photos of you and all of us and just kept adding to it as time went on. And I'm so glad I did. Happy 18th birthday my love, I'll love you, always and forever. Sincerely yours, Matthew.

My eyes soften and I turn my whole body to face Matt, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, laughing tearfully.

"I love you too. So much."

He wraps his arms around me, his grip on me just as tight as mine as he presses a kiss to my temple.

We pull back after a minute or two and I wipe my face with a sigh and a sniff as I close the binder.

"Alright, can this next present liven the mood? I don't want to cry anymore."

I grab another bag and take the tissue paper out only to be greeted by a familiar shirt and a piece of wood on it. I refrain from nailing my mother with a look as I take the wood block out of the bag and read the words.

'Y/N'. It's just my name. But I vividly remember watching my grandfather make this as a kid. Meaning that the shirt is my granddads favorite shirt, that I loved just as much as he did.

I grab the shirt from the bag and have to hold back more tears.

"Mom." I let out in a strained voice, sniffling and wiping my nose.

She walks to me and envelopes me in a hug as I tearfully laugh in her arms.

She pulls away and I slip the shirt on over my dress and continue to open my presents, enjoying this evening with my closest friends and family.

At the end of the night, I ended up in the arms of the guy I love most, talking about the evening.

"My favorite part was when you opened the binder. You looked so happy to see those pictures." Matt speaks as he runs his hand through my hair.

"I was. And I am. I'm so happy you kept it. Even if it was just a silly little thing from when we were nine." I smile at the fond memory of the day we got 'married'.

"Do you think we'll actually get married one day?" I look up to his eyes as he smile and nods.

"Of course I do. Like I said, I don't think I could imagine my life without you. Being your husband would bring me nothing but happiness. I just want to be with you. No matter what."

I smile at his words and lean up from my spot on his chest and press our lips together.

"I love you Matt."

"I love you Y/N."

----

"That was literally the best night, and day, of my life."

"It was fun. The party was good."

"I think the food was the best thing." I roll my eyes. Because only Chris could say something like that.

"Of course you did Chris." Matt reaches back and holds my hand, sliding his thumb over my knuckles in a soothing way, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Alright, I think we're going to end this video here; I don't think I can handle any more of this." Chris waves his hand to where mine and Matt's hands are conjoined on the center console.

"Hey! Don't say that! I think it's adorable! Gives me hope for love."

"Thank you, Nick." I giggle out as Matt grabs the camera with his free hand and gives a close up of Chris's forehead before screaming into it, sending us all into fits of laughter.

After that, we finish our forgotten food that we didn't while we were explaining and reminiscing about my 18th birthday, and then we head back to their house.

Once we do, we all separate our different ways Nick to his room to edit, Chris to his to sleep probably, and me and Matt to his.

I walk into his room and go to sit on the bed, but hands around my waist turning me keep me from doing so.

Matt turns my body to his and envelops me in what might be the best kiss we've ever shared. It's long enough for our lips to turn red but short enough that we're not panting for breath when we pull apart.

" 'I'll love you, always and forever'." He mumbles while his lips are still pressed to mine, making me smile.

"I'll always love you too."

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If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask !! ✮

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And I hope you all have a wonderful day and / or night ✮

#l writes!#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #i love this #he's so boyfriend #i need me a man like him #i'd do anything to get a letter like that ong

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spctrsgf · 1 year

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Hello :3

Could you write something where it’s Steven’s birthday, but he rather not think much about it because he doesn’t have anyone to celebrate it with and it kind of makes him sad. However, as he’s stocking up some shelves at the shop one of his coworkers, the curator of the Egyptian exhibition, approaches him to wish him a happy birthday and she gifts him a small cake she baked (she definitely has a crush on him, but is as timid as him). And Steven just melts because he only mentioned his birthday once and here is his crush showering him with attention.

cake

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language (I think), just floof, no use of y/n, steven being lonely (not for long dw), reader and steven being oblivious lovestruck idiots

Steven never liked birthdays.

Well, that’s a lie. He loved other people’s birthdays. He is a giver at heart; he always wants to shower people with attention and gifts in appreciation. With the few people he’d been close enough to call a friend, he was a ball of excitement when the day came along. He provided the “happy birthday”s and corny gifts he’d spent the whole year brainstorming on.

But his birthday? The energy seeps out of him.

What was there to celebrate? He was just another year older, and another year passed without so much of a happy birthday from anyone else. Why celebrate something, like a birthday, if you had no one to celebrate it with? Steven had seen all the balloons, happy faces, cake, and the countless other things that represented a birthday on the television. Though he yearned to experience it, he felt like all hope had been lost.

What did it matter if he celebrated it anymore? He could get by without it.

Even he knew that he was lying to himself. As he woke up on the day he dreaded all the other 364 days in a year, he found the daunting facts hovering over his head: no one would remember. When he strolled into the museum, on time for once in a while, Greg, yet to remember his name, the thought hit him again. All throughout the day, he shuffled about his day in a sort of haze, ready to be off of work so that he could buy himself a box of chocolates to eat while watching some sort of sappy romance movie and wallow in his sadness.

But, no, the universe seemed to be against him. Donna decided to put him on inventory again. It was the third day this week, and it was as if she knew herself and was just out to make his life even worse than it was. So there he stood, the last soul in the museum other than the cleaners, spending away the last of his birthday at work. How miserable of him.

He shook his head out of his stupor. Steven, don’t sit around and pity yourself! He scolded himself for what felt like the millionth time that day. So much for not thinking about it. Sighing, he put his brain to thinking about the newest documentary he’d found to watch when he got home. It was on the Greeks, which were admittedly less interesting than the Egyptians, but still good nonetheless.

“Steven?” he perked up at the sound of his name, nearly dropping the plush Taweret he was holding. When the sweet voice didn’t call again, he chuckled lowly to himself. Look at you, imagining things. Bloody hell, mate, pull yourself together. The door opened before he could move to scan the Taweret, his grip on it tightening in automatic response. Then a head popped in, looking left and right, and his body immediately relaxed.

You.

You, the curator of the Egyptian exhibit he cherished so much. He’d been by it so much, in fact, that he could remember every bit of information that was there, but he still found himself back there again and again, always in awe of the sweat and tears he could tell you shed while crafting it. On the one occasion that you’d been by while he was there, you’d shuffled over to him when he timidly called you over and met his gaze with a slightly shy yet informed one as you answered his question, honeyed voice like music to his ears. He appreciated the determination set into your eyes as you argued with Donna to keep the exhibit up, appreciated the humbleness as you were met with yet another compliment on your work.

You were perfect, and Steven couldn’t help but fall hopelessly for you, even though he could barely get words out when you stood in front of him in all your glory.

“Steven, hey! What’re you still doing here?” You smiled softly at him, still hovering by the door. “Uh, well, Donna decided to put me on inventory.” Steven took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

You frowned. “Huh, that’s funny. I told her not to do that.”

“Well, Donna doesn’t really listen to anyone who isn’t controlling her paycheck, does she?” He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, too stunned by the fact that you’d asked Donna not to put him on inventory to form any coherent thoughts at the moment. Gods, he was down so bad if that was making him flustered.

You snorted, much to his surprise. “You have a point.”

“Is everything okay? Why are you still here?” He asked, taking in the way that you still hovered by the door, most of your body hidden.

“Well, um,” you looked down, seemingly shy. “I brought you something.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

You tilted your head. “For your birthday. Today is your birthday, right?”

And that, that right there, was the type of thing that would make his knees buckle. The fact that you, out of all people, remembered his birthday when he’d told you a grand total of once. It was an offhand comment, you were talking about your mother’s birthday and he’d shot in that your mother and he had the same birth week, to which you’d asked which day and wished him an early birthday before you’d been dragged away by Donna. The fact that you had gone out of your way to buy him something, that you’d spent time and money on something for him.

He was sure you could hear the way his jaw clambered to the floor, could see the way his hands gripped the countertop and he leaned onto it for support. “For– for me?” He fumbled. You nodded. “For you.” With that, you came out from behind the door and into the room fully. In your hands you held a paper plate, and sitting atop it was nothing other than a birthday cake. You placed it on the counter in front of him, and he could see the little egyptian hieroglyphics you’d drawn onto it with navy blue frosting.

Steven couldn’t function. It was like you’d fried his motherboards, like you’d just produced the key that unlocked his heart. He all but melted at the gesture now more than ever.

“Aww, Steven, don’t cry.” Your voice brought him out of his head, and he brought his hand up to his eyes to wipe the tears that slipped out. “I’m sorry, it’s just–” he sniffled. “No one’s ever done this for me before.”

“You’ve never had a birthday cake?”

“Not one that someone else has made me, no, not for a very long time.”

“Steven Grant,” you rounded the countertop to stand next to him, your stern face slightly terrifying. “That is a very big problem. I'm glad I've cured you of that.”

He smiled earnestly. “Yeah, I am too.”

“Also,” you grabbed the edge of the plate, dragging it closer. “I hope you like vanilla cake. I actually couldn’t go out and get more cocoa powder, so… also, the frosting might be a bit strong– I put some cinnamon in it.”

“Yeah, that’s better than alright. I bloody love cinnamon. How’d you know?”

“I saw you when you found those cinnamon rolls at the cafeteria… and I supposed you liked cinnamon a lot. And then I found some at the store, so I picked it up.”

“You are amazing.” He was sure that sounded sappy and that he had a stupidly wide grin on his face, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care anymore.

“Says you.” you shot back.

Steven chuckled, turning back to his cake and swiping a bit of frosting off in an attempt to save himself from turning into a blushing mess.

“Listen,” you cracked into the silence, twisting your hands together impossibly tight. “If you don’t otherwise have plans, would you like to come back to my place? We could get pizza, watch some movies, but only if you want, of course. I don’t want to intrude–”

“I would love to.” the words were out of his mouth before he could even put together a coherent thought about it.

“Cool, alright,” You beamed. “Grab your coat and let’s go, Grant.”

Oh, how he loved his birthday.

a/n: thank you for this, lovely anon, i enjoyed writing it! and also thank you to @themistwithinthemystery for proofing this! feel free to pop by my inbox anytime, everyone, and leave a request or just a thought :)

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