Hi there. You can call me Lex, Alex, Lexie, it doesn't matter. Anything that you prefer. I am 24 and a Chris girl. But also Nick's. And also Matt's. Anyway.
(Skip for the masterlist.)
I write, I read, I paint, and I listen to music 24/7. I like good food and horror movies. This acc is about the Sturniolos, obviously, and I mostly use it to write about them but I will shit-post every now and then. Mwuah.
Music.
The Smiths, The Cure, Joy Division, Bring me the Horizon, Tool, System of a Down, Placebo, Deftones, Slipknot, Rammstein, Arctic Monkeys, Radiohead etc.
But also â Lana Del Rey, Mitski, Melanie Martinez, Playboy Carti, J. Cole, Travis Scott, Yeat, Tyler the Creator, Childish Gambino, The Weeknd, etc.
But also â Odetari, Ezekiel, Mareaux, Crystal Castles, Sisters of Mercy, etc.
But also â I listen to music and I am an indecisive bitch, I wasn't lying.
Masterlist.
I honestly believe all of my works are 18+, so please keep that in mind. Minors dni. However, I'll mark the ones that are actual smut. I'll keep this post updated every time I upload another work of mine!
Fluff, Angst, Smut.
Chris Sturniolo.
With you.
Look at you.
We're alone.
Keep going.
Friends with benefits.
I want more, pt.1.
I want more, pt.2.
In another life.
Beautiful Girl.
I hate you, too, pt.1.
I hate you, too, pt.2.
Make it up to me.
Dates with Chris.
Trust me.
Jealous guy.
Matt Sturniolo.
Quiet [0.1].
Quiet [0.2].
And that's pretty much it. Feel free to message me or send requests, I'd love to talk to you. đ€
can you write an angst/fluff based off come out and play by billie? i feel like you'd write it beautifully
come out and play.
Author's note: beautiful anon, thank you for the request. To be honest, I don't really listen to my baby Billie, so I feel like I didn't do it justice, but I tried either way. I kept listening to the song over and over while writing this fic. I hope you like it! Don't copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: not much; reader is insecure, Chris is comforting.
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The rain pelted against the windows, relentless and heavy, a storm settling in the quiet cottage. Outside, the world was thick with autumnâ the trees heavy with the last few leaves clinging to branches, the ground covered with a blanket of golds, reds, and browns. The sky hung low and moody, heavy clouds casting a dull, gray hue over everything. But there was something serene about it too, a calmness that only came after the storm. The kind of calm that made the air smell of wet earth and fresh pine.
I was sitting by the window, the light of the dimming sun catching just the edge of the trees outside, giving them a soft golden glow. The fire was crackling lazily in the corner, but the warmth wasnât enough to chase the cold from my bones, from the knot of tension in my chest.
Chris stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me quietly. Heâd been patient all day, his soft blue eyes trying to reach me as I closed myself off more and more. I could feel his worry pressing in on me like a weight I couldnât shake, but I didnât have the energy to explain.
I couldnât explain how every thought in my head felt like a storm of its own, a tangled mess of insecurities, doubts, and fear. How everything I was supposed to be, everything I was supposed to do, felt too much for me to handle.
âWhy are you still sitting there?â he finally asked, his voice gentle but with an edge of frustration I could hear through the softness.
I didnât answer, just stared out the window, watching the rain blur everything into a hazy mess.
âYouâve been like this all day,â he continued, his tone softer now, like he was choosing his words carefully, âcome on, baby.. itâs not helping. Sitting here and doing what you're doing.. itâs not helping.â
I shrugged, my voice small but sharp, âitâs not like I can just turn it off, Chris.â
He stepped closer, his shoes light against the wooden floor, but the space between us still felt too wide, âI know you canât just turn it off. But youâre letting it control you. And you're so much better than this, you know?â
I let out a harsh laugh, the sound bitter in my own ears, âeasy for you to say. Youâre always so calm, always so sure â itâs like youâve got everything figured out.â
He stopped, his expression shiftingâ hurt, but not angry, âIâm not perfect. I donât have everything figured out, not even close. But I know you.â
I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, âno, you donât know, you donât understand.. what if I mess it all up? What if everything falls apart? What if Iâm not good enough?â
Chris reached for me, his fingers brushing gently against my cheek, turning my face toward his. He didnât say anything for a long moment, just studied me like he was trying to make sense of the storm inside me.
âLook at me, pretty..â he said softly, his voice low but firm, âyou donât have to be perfect.. and you donât have to have it all figured out. You just need to take a step. Thatâs all. Iâm not asking for anything more than that. Just take a step with me.â
I pulled away from him, my eyes stinging with the threat of tears, âI donât want to go anywhere. I donât want to face it. I donât want to deal with it.. not right now.â
He didnât pull back. His hand found mine, gently holding it even when I tried to pull away, âI know you donât. But Iâm asking you to trust me.. letâs just go outside, take a walk with me. It's not raining that much now. Please, let me help you get out of your head.â
I pulled my hand from his â I didnât know what to say to him. I wanted to shut down, crawl back into my shell and hide. But even in my frustration, I knew he wouldnât let me do that.
âI donât need your pity, Chris,â I muttered, looking away, feeling stupid for pushing him away when all he was doing was trying to help.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was just above a whisper, soft but steady, âthis isnât pity, baby.. this is me caring about you more than you care about yourself right now.â
I looked up at him then, his face earnest and full of quiet concern, his beautiful eyes calm and loving. I hated that I was pushing him away, hated that I was shutting myself off from the one person who truly understood me. But I didnât know how to stop the spiral.
âYou deserve to feel better,â he said, his tone still gentle, but with a firmness that felt like a promise, âplease.. let me be here for you. Let me help you through this. Just come outside with me, only for a few minutes.â
I stood there, torn between the desire to stay curled up in my own mess and the undeniable pull of his patience and warmth. I didnât want to, but I couldnât say no to him.
âOkay,â I whispered, finally giving in.
Chris smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he stepped back to grab my jacket. âThank you.â
I hesitated, but there was something in the way he said it that made me want to listen. I stood up slowly, my legs shaky at first. The air inside the cottage smelled of wood and lavender, but as soon as we stepped out onto the porch, the coolness of the autumn evening wrapped around me, so I was thankful for that jacket that he helped me put on. The sky was darkening, but the last rays of the sun still lingered behind the clouds, casting everything in a soft, golden light. The path that led toward the small clearing by the lake was damp, the leaves beneath our feet making a satisfying crunch as we walked.
The quiet between us felt different now. It wasnât as heavy, as if stepping outside had helped clear a little of the fog in my mind.
âSee?â Chris said, looking at me with a grin, as if he knew exactly what I needed, âthe worldâs still here. And so are we.â
I couldnât help but smile back, a small, reluctant smile, but it was real. There was still a knot in my chest, but somehow, with him by my side, it didnât feel so insurmountable.
His hands stayed on my cheeks as he looked straight into my eyes, "you're the most beautiful girl I know. Inside and out."
A blush crawled up those cheeks that he was holding and it made him chuckle, placing a little kiss on my forehead, "there's my girl."
Chris was indeed an angel. And..
Iâm too shy to say but, "I hope you stay.â
Chris wrapped his arm around me, pulling me a little closer, his voice full of that quiet reassurance I always loved, âIâm not going anywhere. Iâll always stay.â
And for the first time in a while, I finally believed him.
hellooo can you write a fic where reader and chris have a pregnancy scare?
what could be.
Author's note: thank you for the request, and sorry for being so late, pft. I hope you like it anon, here is an angsty/fluffy fic with Chris. Him and babies make me giddy fr. Don't copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: uhm, none. But y'all.. use protection always. Didn't proofread!
â
It started with a simple sentence, one that hung in the air like a grenade waiting to go off.
"My periodâs a week late."
Chris froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. The casual dinner we were having, sitting on the couch like we always did, suddenly felt like something fragile, ready to shatter. His face went pale as he put his fork down, staring at me like he hadnât quite understood what Iâd just said.
"What?" His voice was flat, cold.
I shifted uncomfortably, already regretting saying anything. "Iâm late, Chris. A week late."
He sat back, his eyes narrowing as if he could will this entire conversation out of existence. "Are you serious?"
I nodded. "I thought it was just stress at first, butâŠ"
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, the frustration already palpable. "How could this happen?"
The way he said it â like it was some personal failure, like this was my fault, made my blood run cold.
"Uhm, now I don't mean to break it to you.." I snapped, my voice rising defensively, "but we were both there, remember?"
"Yeah, well, youâre the one who keeps track of this stuff, right? Shouldnât you have known?" His voice was sharp, accusatory, and it stung.
I stood up from the couch, the tension in my body rising like a tidal wave, "what the actual fuck are you even saying? You think I want this to be happening? You think this is something I wanted to deal with right now?"
Chris got up too, pacing in the small living room, his hands clenched at his sides, "no, I donât know what the hell you want! All I know is, weâre not ready for this. We canât be dealing with a fucking baby right now."
I felt the familiar lump forming in my throat, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let him see how much his words hurt. "Chris, weâre in this together, okay? Why are you acting like I did something wrong?"
"Because this isâ" He stopped, running his hands over his face. "This changes everything, okay? Everything weâve been working for. All our plans, all our.. us!"
"What, and a baby ruins all that?" I cut him off, my voice shaking with anger. "Is that what you think? That this would ruin everything?"
He didnât answer right away, and the silence that followed was louder than any argument weâd ever had. He just stood there, staring at the floor, and I couldnât tell if he was thinking or trying to come up with a way to end this conversation without making it worse.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "Yeah. I think it would."
I blinked, feeling like Iâd been slapped. I could feel my heart racing, the adrenaline pushing through me, making me feel sick. "Wow," I whispered, stepping back like I needed space from him, like I couldnât stand being near him right now. "Thatâs really how you fucking feel?"
He looked up, his face tight with frustration. "Weâre not ready for this. You know that. Youâve got your career just starting to take off, Iâm still figuring things out. Itâs not the right time."
"You donât get to decide that for both of us," I shot back, my voice cracking under the weight of the argument. "This is happening, whether you like it or not. What are you going to do if I am pregnant? Walk away?"
Chrisâs eyes flashed with somethingâmaybe guilt, maybe regret, I couldnât tell. "Iâm not walking away," he said through gritted teeth, "but Iâm not going to pretend like Iâm okay with this either."
I didnât say anything else. I couldnât. The hurt and anger tangled up inside me was too much, and if I opened my mouth again, I didnât trust what would come out. Instead, I turned and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, his silence chasing me as I went.
For the next day and a half, we barely spoke. Every interaction was charged, electric with the weight of what had been said and left unsaid. He slept on the couch that night, and I didnât bother asking him to come back to bed. I wasnât sure I wanted him there.
The test sat on the bathroom counter, waiting for me, taunting me with the unknown. I couldnât bring myself to take it, not when things between us felt so raw, so fragile. But after another restless night of tossing and turning, I couldnât take the uncertainty anymore. I had to know.
When I walked into the living room that morning, Chris was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at his phone. He looked up when I entered, and for a second, there was something in his eyesâregret, maybe. Or guilt. I couldnât tell.
"Iâm taking the test," I said, my voice flat.
He stood up, nodding stiffly. "Iâll come with you."
"Yeah, you don't fucking have to." I said, but he followed me either way.
We walked to the bathroom in silence, and I grabbed the box off the counter with shaking hands. Chris stood by the door, watching me, his expression unreadable. I couldnât even look at him as I went through the motions, my stomach twisting into knots.
When it was done, we sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the result. The timer on my phone ticked down, each second stretching out longer than the last.
"Iâve been thinking," Chris said suddenly, his voice softer than it had been in days. I glanced at him, unsure of what to expect.
"About what?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "About everything. About what I said⊠how I reacted."
I remained silent.
He hesitated before continuing, "I was scared, okay? I still am. Iâm terrified, actually. But⊠Iâve been thinking. Maybe it wouldnât be the worst thing."
I blinked, surprised. "What?"
He looked at me, his expression softer now, more open. "Iâm not saying itâd be easy. But if you are pregnant, I mean⊠weâd figure it out, right? Weâd get through it."
For the first time in days, I felt a tiny flicker of hope. "You really think so?"
He nodded, his gaze steady on mine. "Yeah. I donât want to be that guy who just freaks out and runs away. If it happens, I want to be there for you. For both of you."
I let out a breath I hadnât realized Iâd been holding, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. Maybe weâd been fighting, maybe we were scared, but hearing him say that made me feel like we could actually do this, if we had to.
"And if I really think about it.." he continued, his thumb on my cheek caressing the skin so gently, as if I was a porcelain doll, "the idea of having a little baby with you that looks just like their mom.. yeah, I think I'm fine with that." he teased with a little smile and that's all I needed to hear.
The timer went off, the sharp beep cutting through the air. We both froze, looking at each other.
"Do you want to�" Chris asked, nodding toward the bathroom.
I shook my head. "You can look."
He stood up, walking over to the counter, his movements slow and hesitant. I watched him as he picked up the test, his face unreadable. For a moment, he just stared at it, not saying anything.
Finally, he looked up at me, his expression a mixture of relief and something else I couldnât quite place. "Itâs negative."
I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. "Negative?"
He nodded, setting the test down and walking back over to me. "Yeah. Youâre not pregnant."
Relief washed over me, but there was something else too. Something that felt almost like disappointment. I pushed it down, not wanting to think too much about it.
Chris sat down beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Iâm sorry," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "For how I acted. I didnât handle any of this well."
I leaned into him, closing my eyes as I let the warmth of his embrace chase away the last remnants of fear. "Itâs okay," I murmured. "Weâre okay."
"Is it crazy that I've started to warm up to the idea?" he whispered against my hair and even though I didn't want a baby, I still felt giddy hearing him say that.
"Your mood swings are acting up." I teased and buried my face into the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss there, "although.. so did I." I whispered.
Author's note: I am a day late, but it's here now, so.. yeah. I hope you like it, babies. There's just something I love about angsty shit happening in clubs (and then smut, smut, smut.) Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: drugs, alcohol, smoking, SMUT towards the end. Minors dni.
â â
"I donât wanna go there." I was moody, and you could hear it in my voice.
"Girl. You canât stay in the house forever." My friendâs voice was gentle but firm, the way only she could be with me. I sighed, dragging out the sound for emphasis, but inside, I knew I wanted to go.
Because just the possibility that he might be there was enough to make my heart race, enough to make me feel that delicious burn of wanting something I shouldn't. Chris. My guilty pleasure, my weakness, the one whoâd spent time dancing through my thoughts, uninvited but never unwelcome.
"Fine," I mumbled, grabbing my purse and checking myself one last time in the mirror.
As soon as we stepped into the club, the beat hit me first â a pulsing rhythm that synced with the energy in the air, lights flashing in sync to every beat drop. I followed my friends through the crowd, my eyes scanning the faces, all the while pretending I wasnât looking for him.
But I was.
And then, there he was.
Chris stood across the room, leaning against the bar, laughing with a few friends. He looked exactly the way I remembered, maybe even better â soft curls falling just right, that signature smirk on his face. He hadnât seen me yet, so I took in the moment, feeling my pulse quicken as I watched him, letting the thrill take over.
I kept my gaze on him, half-hidden behind the crowd, hoping he'd look my way. The music thumped, people laughed and moved around me, but my eyes stayed locked on him. And then, almost as if he could feel my stare, Chris glanced in my direction.
For a split second, his eyes met mine. A spark flickered in his expression ârecognition, maybe surprise, and my heart stopped. But just as quickly, he looked away, turning back to his friends like he hadnât seen me at all. The sting of disappointment settled heavy in my chest.
I tried to remind myself why he wouldnât approach me. The last time weâd spoken, Iâd told him I didn't trust him anymore, that we couldnât keep seeing each other. That it was better if we didnât speak again. Iâd meant it.. mostly.
But right now, standing here, with him only a few feet away, it didnât feel like something I wanted to stick to. Not tonight.
My friends were chatting away, oblivious to my inner turmoil. I let out a slow breath, glancing toward the bar where he was standing. If he wasnât going to make the first move, maybe Iâd have to. I wasnât leaving this club without talking to him, even if it meant breaking the rules Iâd set myself.
I took a step forward, maneuvering through the crowd, weaving around people until I was close enough to feel his presence. I could almost smell his cologne, and the familiar rush came over me, a cocktail of excitement and nerves.
This time, he couldnât pretend not to see me. And I wasnât going anywhere until he acknowledged I was here.
I was only a few feet away when Chris finally turned, and his gaze caught mine again. His face tightened, and something bitter flashed in his eyes as he turned his back to his friends.
"You sure you wanna be seen with me? Just sold drugs to the entire club." His voice was low, edged with sarcasm as he leaned back against the bar, crossing his arms. "You've got some nerve coming here."
His words stung, but I held my ground, refusing to let his attitude push me back. This was Chris â cutting, sharp-tongued, and sassy, especially when he was upset. I had to remind myself that he was hurt too, though he'd rather burn than admit it.
"Maybe I changed my mind," I replied, my voice steady.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes as if my response was exactly what heâd expected. "Right. Of course you did." He took a sip from his drink, his gaze drifting away, pretending I was just another girl in the crowd, even though I knew better.
The tension between us was palpable, and I couldnât stop myself from taking another step closer. "Are you really going to keep ignoring me all night?"
He looked back, eyebrow raised. "You seemed very talented at ignoring me for two fucking weeks. Thought maybe Iâd try it out."
That hit deep, and he knew it, his smirk twisting with a flash of satisfaction. But beneath the anger in his eyes, there was something else, something softer that he tried to bury.
I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to snap back, to throw all the things Iâd been holding in since our last fight. Instead, I softened my tone. "Chris⊠we need to talk. Really talk. You know it, too."
He watched me carefully, the smirk fading, and for a moment, I thought he might give in. But then he shrugged, forcing a chuckle that was anything but amused.
"Talk, huh? Now you wanna talk? Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head. But his voice had lost some of its edge. He set his drink down, his jaw tight as he looked at me like I was both a temptation and a challenge. "Fine. Letâs hear it. What do you have to say thatâs so important you had to show up here tonight?"
I felt a glimmer of relief but swallowed it down, knowing this was just the beginning.
I took a shaky breath, steadying myself under his unyielding gaze. "Last time... things got intense, Chris. I didnât know what to do. I got scared." My voice was softer now, almost drowned out by the music, but I knew he heard every word.
He let out a short, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Scared, huh?" He glanced away, his jaw clenching as he processed my words. "Got scared, accused me of forcing you take the drug. Well, that's convenient, isnât it? You get scared, you accuse, you run."
"Donât twist this," I said, feeling a spark of defensiveness flare up. "You know it wasnât that simple."
He looked back at me, eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? You accuse me of fucking drugging you, you ignore me, then show up out of nowhere and expect me to just⊠what, forget it? Be grateful that you suddenly changed your fucking mind?"
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his bitterness. "Chris, I didnât walk away because I wanted to hurt you. I walked away because everything was too much for me.."
He gave me a pointed look, lips pressed in a tight line. "Too much? What was too much?" He called me by my name â things were serious.
My cheeks flushed, but I pushed on. "Everything.. I saw you selling drugs.. we took pills, it was just.. too much."
He shook his head, and for a second, the anger in his eyes wavered, revealing a glimmer of hurt. "You chose to come here, you wanted to see what I do. You wanted to feel the thrill. And once you did, you threw me away."
His words hung heavy between us, sharp and raw. I bit my lip, "Chris⊠thatâs not what I meant to do at all."
"What did you mean, then? What was I to you?"
"Youâreâ" I stopped, the words catching in my throat. He raised an eyebrow, his stare unrelenting.
"Iâm what? Go ahead, say it," he challenged, his voice quieter now but still sharp. "Because last time really seemed like whatever I was to you didnât mean much if you could just walk away like that."
I took a step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of pain in his eyes. "You meant everything. That was the problem. It scared me, Chris. You⊠you scare me."
He opened his mouth, then stopped, as if my words had stunned him. A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "Scare you? I'd protect you at all costs. I wouldn't give you anything that wasn't light."
His sarcasm stung, but I didnât back down. "I know.. I just.. needed time to realise, Chris. I know all of this is dangerous.. but I want you."
For a moment, the tension softened, the anger in his eyes flickering into something else. But then he hardened again, his voice icy. "So, what? Youâre here now because youâve figured it all out? Because youâve decided Iâm worth the risk?"
I could see through his bravado, the way his strong front was just barely hiding the hurt underneath. And for once, I didnât let him push me away.
"Yes," I said, meeting his gaze with steady determination. "Iâm here because Iâm done hiding from what I feel. I want you, Chris. I never stopped wanting you."
He looked away, running a hand down his face, caught between anger and something else. "Well, congratulations," he muttered, but his voice was softer, less biting. "Must be nice to have all the answers."
I took another step forward, my hand grazing his arm, and I could feel the tension in his muscles. "I donât have all the answers. Iâm just trying, okay?"
For a long, painful second, he stared down at me, silent. Finally, he sighed, the fight slowly leaving his stance. His voice got quieter. "I donât know if I can handle you just⊠leaving."
"Then donât let me," I whispered, my hand slipping down to his, hoping heâd understand.
He looked down at our hands, and his grip tightened ever so slightly, as if he wanted to hold on but was still unsure. The anger, the bitterness â it was all there, but so was the longing. And for the first time, I felt him let go just enough to meet me halfway.
"I want you. I want to try everything with you. I am sorry I made you sound like the bad guy." I said, my lips only a few inches away from his now.
"I want you." He whispered on my lips but it was enough for me to hear, pressing my lips against his. I could taste cigarettes and alcohol but I didn't mind. On the contrary, I loved the mix of his taste and all that shit.
His friends were long gone as we deepened the kiss, his hand slipping down from my back to my ass. He squeezed it, his tongue invading my mouth as if it was his. Or maybe it was his, at this point.
"You're mine. Don't you walk away from me ever again." He mumbled in my ear and gave my earlobe a lick, I shuddered, "no more excuses."
"No more excuses. I know what I want." I said and he grabbed my hand, leading me to somewhere only he knew.
"Let's go to the VIP corner. No one will bother us there." He said and I followed.
The next few minutes found as at the VIP cornern indeed, my back pressed against his chest, ass rubbing against his crotch as he wrapped his big arms around my waist.
"Do you really trust me?" He said against my neck from behind, biting down on the soft pale skin.
"Yes." I breathed out without a second thought.
He turned us around so I was facing the wall, his back turned to the people around us and chest still pressed against my back â he rubbed my thigh, his hand slowly riding my skirt up. His middle finger found my clit through my lace panties, I let out a moan, not caring if anyone could hear me or not. He started rubbing it, slow at first, then speeding up.
"Pull your top down for me. I wanna see your tits." He said and I felt myself getting even more wet. I did as he ordered, pulling my strapless top down, my chest now put for him to see. If anyone were to turn us around, they'd see everything. And that made me crazy.
His soft curls tickled my cheek as he kissed my neck. He grabbed my tit with his free hand, squeezing it and teasing my nipple, his other hand pushed the panties aside and pinched my clit, making me shout.
"That's for ignoring me for so long." He licked my earlobe.
He slapped my pussy and and I moaned again, "That's for even thinking that I'd do anything to hurt you."
With his finger, he smeared my juices around and unexpectedly shoved it inside of me, making me moan, "and that's for making me think you didn't want me anymore.." he groaned and fucked me with his finger, soon adding another one, "..for making me think you found someone else already.. " he slapped my tit and spread me open with his fingers, "..because you're mine. Only."
Author's note: oh boy, I fucking love Chris. Nothing else to say. Just read. Didn't proofread! Don't copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: angst, DRUGS, Chris is a dealer, smoking, blah blah blah.
â
Chris was trouble; I knew it. From the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he moved. Even the way people around him spoke about him hinted at something dangerous, something off. I knew him for a long time, we'd been hooking up for a while now. And I knew there was something off about him. Something dangerous. But he was captivating, breathtaking even â especially as he stood tall next to me, a cigarette hanging between his soft pink lips, his eyes flicking toward me from the corner of his gaze.
âArenât you scared? What are your people gonna say when they find out you came with me?â His voice was low, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something darker. It felt like a warning, but the smug look on his face made it clear he enjoyed this far too much.
âI am scared,â I admitted, looking up at him. His presence felt both magnetic and suffocating. âBut I want to know more⊠about you.â
âHm.â His lips curled into a smirk, that infuriating, knowing look in his eyes. âYouâre gonna regret that someday.â
Before I could respond, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the toe of his shoe with a practiced carelessness. He didnât even look at it as he did it. His fingers slid around my wrist, firm but not harsh, pulling me along without hesitation. âCome on.â
When the door of the club opened, the heavy bass hit me first. The place was packed, even from the outside I could see it. Bodies moved together, lights flashing in sync with the music, and the air was thick with heat and sweat. Chris exchanged a few words with the guy at the entrance â I couldnât hear what was said, but I caught the nod, the way the man stepped aside and let us through without a second glance.
Inside, the atmosphere was electric. Chris weaved through the crowd like he owned the place, his grip on my wrist loosening, but he didnât let go. Not yet. I could see people looking at him, some with recognition, some with something like fear, but nobody dared to approach him. Not directly.
We stopped at a corner where the lights were dimmer, the crowd thinner. Chris leaned against the wall casually, one foot propped up against it, eyes scanning the room. It was like he was waiting for something â or someone.
And then, it started. People approached him quietly, almost discreetly, but I could see the quick exchanges. Pills slipped from his hand to theirs, small plastic bags tucked into pockets. He barely spoke, only offering a few words here and there, but it was enough to make them move. He made it look effortless, like this was just another part of his routine, like he wasnât even thinking about it.
I watched, my stomach tightening. I had heard rumors, sure, but seeing it was different. I couldnât help but wonder how far this went, how deep Chris was in.
He caught me staring and smirked again, that dangerous glint in his eyes. He pushed himself off the wall and moved toward me, his body close enough that I could smell the faint hint of smoke still lingering on his jacket.
âStill curious?â His voice was low, teasing, but I could tell he was testing me. Seeing if Iâd back down.
I swallowed, heart racing, âwhat you're doing is wrong."
"Mhm. You came here to see what I do or to tell me what's wrong and right?" He chuckled and I felt my heart racing even more at his carelessness.
I decided to stay silent, lost in my own thoughts. Why was I here? Why didn't I want to leave? On the contrary, I wanted to be closer to him. To kiss him. To touch him.
He kept staring at me â he walked closer to me as my back hit the wall, "I like you like this." He said and came even closer.
"Like what?" I cleared my throat, looking at him.
"Curious. Willing. Scared as fuck but still staying for me." His nose was touching mine and I almost lost it.
"Chris.." I couldn't say much.
Chris's smirk widened as I spoke, his eyes darkening with something I couldn't quite place. There was a glint there, a challenge. He was always testing me, seeing how far I would go, how much I would bend for him.
Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, bright pill. It caught the low light of the club as he held it between his fingers, rolling it absentmindedly. He looked at it for a second, then back at me, eyebrows raised like he was waiting for my reaction.
"You ever try this before?" he asked, his voice almost drowned by the pounding bass.
I shook my head, unsure if I should admit it. "No."
His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, as he leaned closer. His face was inches from mine now, so close I could feel his breath. "You wanna try it with me?"
I hesitated. I'd heard the stories. Seen the fallout. But something about the way Chris looked at me made it hard to say no. Maybe it was the danger, the thrill of stepping into something unknown with him. Maybe it was just Chris â the way he seemed so untouchable, so sure of himself. It was like being around him made the world feel less predictable, more alive.
He held out the pill, watching me carefully, waiting for a decision.
Before I could think too much about it, I reached for it. My fingers brushed his palm as I took it, feeling the smooth surface of the pill resting in my hand.
Chris' eyes never left mine, like he was daring me to back down, daring me to run. But I couldn't.
"Go on, pretty," he said softly, almost too soft to hear, but it echoed in my mind like it was the only sound in the room.
I looked at him, heart pounding in my chest, then slipped the pill between my lips. Chris's eyes followed the motion, a glint of satisfaction in them. He didn't hesitate â pulled another pill from his pocket and popped it in his mouth like it was nothing, then leaned closer again, this time with a different kind of intent.
His lips found mine suddenly, catching me off guard. The pill was still dissolving on my tongue when I felt him press against me, his mouth warm and demanding.
My body reacted before my mind caught up, leaning into him, hands instinctively reaching for the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer. The taste of the pill mixed with the faint bitterness of his cigarette lingered between us, intoxicating and overwhelming.
His kiss was different this time. Rougher, more intense, like he was staking some kind of claim. His hand slid up my arm, his fingers brushing the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I could feel my pulse quicken, matching the heavy beat of the music around us, the heat between us growing by the second.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes locked on mine, I felt light-headed, and it wasn't just from the kiss. My lips tingled, and I could feel the pill starting to kick in, warmth spreading through my body, making everything feel sharper, brighter.
Chris was watching me closely, his thumb brushing along my jawline, almost tenderly. "How does it feel?" he asked, his voice husky, almost too low to hear over the music.
I blinked, trying to focus, but everything around us seemed to blur at the edges. The lights pulsed brighter, the sound of the music seemed to sink into my skin. And Chris... Chris was the only thing that felt solid, real, his hand still on me, his gaze holding me in place.
""I don't know yet," I whispered, though a part of me knew that whatever was happening now, I was already in too deep.
âItâs something light, baby, I promise,â he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He smiled, pride shining in his eyes as he leaned in, kissing me softly. His hands tangled in my hair, and I melted into the warmth of his kiss, feeling alive in a way I hadnât experienced before. âYouâll feel amazing in a minute. Just give it time.â
The kiss ignited something within me â a warmth spreading through my chest and tingling in my fingertips. I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, my heart racing. His eyes were full of mischief and something deeper, something that made my stomach flutter. I wanted to lean in again, to bridge the space between us, but the uncertainty held me back.
âDance with me,â he said, his voice barely rising above the music. He took my hand and led me toward the dance floor, where the lights spun around us, creating a dizzying spectacle. As we moved together, the music pulsed in sync with my heartbeat, and I surrendered to the rhythm.
With every beat, the world around us faded away. I felt light, almost weightless, as if the ground beneath me had vanished. The pill was working its magic, heightening every sensationâthe way his hand felt intertwined with mine, the heat of his body so close to mine, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room.
âSee? Youâre feeling it now,â Chris said, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear. His words sent shivers down my spine, amplifying the sensations swirling within me. I was lost in the moment, craving his closeness, wanting to feel him against me.
âGod, youâre amazing,â he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. My cheeks flushed at his compliment, and I couldnât help but smile.
âChris.. I feel.. really good.â I said, and he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my forehead. I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his presence envelop me. I wanted this moment to last forever, to remember every detail â the way he looked at me, the sound of his laughter, the thrill of being so close.
âPromise youâll stay close,â I murmured, gazing up at him, vulnerability creeping into my voice.
âAlways,â he replied, and the sincerity in his tone made my heart swell with hope.
As the night unfolded, I surrendered to the moment, the high of the pill amplifying every touch, every glance, every breath we shared. It was intoxicating, beautiful, and I knew deep down that whatever happened next, I was ready to embrace it all.
The rest of the night felt like a blur.
I woke up in Chrisâs room, disoriented and panicked, the sun slicing through the curtains. The remnants of the night flooded back â dancing, laughing, the pill. My heart sank as I realized how much I couldnât remember.
âChris?â I called out, my voice hoarse. He walked in, casual as always, but today his smile felt hollow.
âHow are you feeling?â he asked, concern masked by a casual tone.
âHow do you think I feel?â I snapped, anger bubbling up inside me. âYou gave me that pill without a second thought. How could you?â Realization hit me.
I saw his expression change. He looked like he wasn't expecting me to react this way, as if I had betrayed him. He crossed his arms, irritation creeping into his voice. âYou wanted it.. as much as I did.â
âThatâs not the point!â I shot back, feeling the weight of disappointment settle over me, âI trusted you. I..â
âI didn't force it on you. You took it. Hell, I took it with you.â he said, frustration seeping through.
"I wish I'd never taken it, though!" I almost screamed, and he looked at me, furious.
âHow the fuck would I know that you'd regret it? We were having fun. I wanted to share it with you." He huffed.
âFun? You thought drugging me would bring us closer?â I took a step back, the hurt sharp in my chest. âYouâre just selling pills like theyâre nothing.â
âDrugging you?" His eyes widened and he walked closer to me, "what the fuck are you saying? You make me sound like a fucking creep." He gritted his teeth, "we did drugs together. We kissed. We danced. Nothing more. We wanted this, you wanted this."
âBut I just wanted to be with you..â I said, shaking my head. âAnd now I canât fucking trust you.â
He opened his mouth to respond, but I interrupted. âWe should stop seeing each other. I need to think, I can't.. think straight when I am with you.. and I feel like I can do much worse things in order to get closer to you.â I admitted, and it was only then that I noticed his expression softening.
His face fell, and for a moment, I saw the regret in his eyes, but it wasnât enough. âIf thatâs what you want,â he said quietly, almost defeated.
âYeah,â I whispered, the weight of my decision heavy. I turned away, knowing this was the right choice, even if it hurt. I walked out, leaving the chaos of the night behind, determined to protect myself from the mess we had created together.
It wouldn't be that easy to get away from him, though. I knew that.
doggystyle.. he loves, loves, loves watching your ass bounce as he's pounding into you. He'd grab and squeeze it, smack it every now and then, letting you push back against him as he stays still, "come on, baby, move."
â â
C H R I S
reverse cowgirl.. again, he loves your ass. He loves watching you work for it while he stays still and speeds up only when he feels like you're going too slow. He'd grab a fistful of hair and push your head back while bucking his hips to thrust into you harder, "you like that, ma?"
table/counter sex.. Chris is the kind of guy that would take you anywhere, anytime. I feel like he'd just see you cooking and immediately just grab you, lifting you up to make you sit on the table. He'd eat you out first, sloppy and hungry and passionate, and then fuck you then and there, "you look and taste fucking delicious."
pool/beach sex.. as I said, he'd take you anywhere. He wouldn't be able to see you in bikini without touching you, "you can't do this to me, babe." He'd push you against the wall of the pool and push your bikini to the side, rubbing his clothed cock against you, making sure no one's really looking. Not that he cares.
head.. he loves giving, as much as receiving. But he absolutely fucking loses it when you, out of nowhere, get on your knees and suck him off. Like when he's doing work, or playing, and you're just on your knees, sucking him off, spitting on it, distracting him completely. He'd tease your nipples and pinch them to push you closer and take him in deeper, "that's it.. fuuuuck."
â
M A T T
missionary.. Matt absolutely loves keeping eye contact while fucking you senseless. He'd want to see you losing it, to see your eyes roll to the back of your head, unable to have control over anything, "keep looking at me, pretty. Or I'll stop. And you don't want that, do you?"
cowgirl.. he'd sit up, back against the headboard so that he can see you better; he needs to see your tits bounce. He'd never let you do a thing â digging his long fingers into your hips, he'd keep you in place and fuck you mercilessly, "you're so pretty. Fuck."
against the wall.. he just loves wrapping his fingers around your neck while he's balls-deep inside of you, your legs wrapped around his slim waist, "take it, baby, take it". He'd press his forehead against yours and thrust into you deep, and hard.
car sex.. do I even have to say anything? He loves his car so much, but he loves pleasuring you more. While driving around, he'd order you take your panties off and spread your legs wide for him. He'd lick his fingers and touch you in such a delicate way, pushing his fingers inside of you gently while keeping his eyes on the road. Then, he'd stop the car somewhere private, not able to control himself, and push his pants down, making you straddle his lap and sit on his cock with his fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel, "that's my girl.."
shower sex.. that's the only time he'd have you facing the other way. He'd push you against the glass of the shower, if anyone were to see you, they'd see your tits and cheek pressed against it. His fingers would wrap themselves around your neck and push your head back as he pounds into you. He'd make you arch your back so much that even in that position, he'd still see you, even upside down, "gonna cum all over me, doll?"
Author's note: just a lil' something; Matt realising you're the one he wants. Give me requests. Now.
Warnings: none.
â
The claw machine hummed softly as I focused, squinting at the stuffed bear dangling inside, just out of reach. My fingers gripped the joystick, but I couldnât quite get the angle right.
âI think you need to move it a bit left,â a voice said, low and warm, right behind me. Matt's voice.
Before I could react, he leaned in, his hand brushing mine, guiding it. My breath caught â the closeness of him sent a rush of warmth up my neck. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, his arm slightly grazing mine. It was impossible to focus on the claw now, but I didnât move away.
"Like this?" I whispered, trying to sound casual, my voice betraying me.
âYeah, right there,â he murmured, his hand still over mine. We were both staring at the machine, but it felt like everything was moving in slow motion.
The claw descended, but I barely noticed. My heart was thudding louder than any arcade noise. It caught something â a flash of fur, and before I could blink, the bear was dropping into the prize chute.
âWe did it,â I said, but my voice was barely above a whisper.
"Yeah..." he stepped back and handed me the prize, but his fingers brushed mine again and his smile made me lose my breath.
Matt was undeniably attractive but we'd been friends for so long, I couldn't even imagine me and him together. Not that I haven't thought about it. There was something between us, something way above us, unspoken words that would forever stay hidden unless we actually did something about it.
We were now in his room â he was sat on the couch, and I was laying next to him, my legs on his lap. There was a comfortable silence between us that only the playlist he'd put on was allowed to interrupt. His room was dark, small fairy lights just above us, I could barely see his face and the little bear that we'd won on top of my tummy.
"Dancing through the night, a vodka and a sprite.."
I opened my eyes to look at him, "I love this song".
"I love this song too." he said and drew invisible circles on my leg with his index finger.
"A glimpse of the silhouettes, a night that they never forget.."
Matt threw his head back, his boney fingers massaging my calves, "I've been wanting to kiss you all day." he blurted out, still looking at the ceiling, his fingers successfully distracting me.
"What.. what?" I said, I have never been so quiet in my life, but he turned to look at me and leaned in to place the softest kiss on one of my knees.
"I've been wanting to kiss you. All day." he said, loud and clear, his dark blue eyes that were now sparkling never leaving mine.
"And he had said, daring your looks can kill.. so now you're dead.."
Matt slowly sat up, gently taking hold of one of my legs. With careful movements, he guided it behind him as he shifted his position, gradually sliding in between my legs. He grabbed the bear that was on my tummy and placed it carefully on the floor â he never broke eye contact. Everything seemed as if it was in slow-motion.
"Touch me, yeah.."
As the song went on, I felt the tension and temperature rising. He was in between my legs, pressing his body against mine as I wrapped myself around him, his lips so close to mine.
"I want you to touch me there.."
Matt leans in slowly, his breath warm against my lips, every movement deliberate and charged with anticipation. Time seems to stretch between us, the air thick with a tension that tightens my chest. His lips brush mine, feather-light at first, then deepening as his hand gently wraps itself around my neck. The kiss is slow, languid, like he's savoring every second, every touch.
My pulse races, but everything else feels unhurried, his mouth exploring mine with a quiet intensity, each second filled with a passion that simmers beneath the surface, leaving me breathless â same as the hand that was on my neck, his rings digging into my skin in the most delicate way.
"I need you." I muttered against his lips and I saw his eyes sparkle before he dove back into the kiss.
Author's note: I am kinda back? I guess. Anyways, you know how it goes, I love fluff, I love angst. I feel like Chris is a stubborn mf, so I've got a lot to write about him. BTW. Give me requests.
Warnings: niente.
Chris, being a stubborn lil' shit, would never admit he's in the wrong. Definitely not in the beginning.
He would shout and scream to get his point across, especially if he felt like he was being wrongly accused.
I feel like he's the type to "hold grudges" for quite some time, not because he doesn't want to speak to you, but because he wouldn't know how to start talking about it.
Even when you two are not talking to each other, he'd do something to get your attention without trying to seem desperate or clingy (even though he is).
He'd make you your favorite meal, leaving the plate right beside you and then leaving right away, "uhm. I made you this. You didn't eat today."
He would also do things without you noticing; like put a lil' snack in your bag before you go to work, or tuck you in while you're sleeping, or take a strand of hair that's bothering you, tucking it behind your ear.
He would never be the first one to talk about it. Though, once you say "hey, let's talk"; it's over. He'll be begging for your attention and/or forgiveness.
"You know you're like.. the love of my life, yeah? I never want to hurt you."
He'd get super soft and gentle with you after every fight.
Cuddles and soft kisses to make you feel better would be his way to show you how sorry he is.
"I'm stupid. I didn't mean to shout. I'm sorry."
"I will forgive you.
Gimme a hundred kisses right now."
"Say no more."
And he would do exactly that; he'd spoil you with kisses with every chance he gets.
I just love cuddly and soft Chris after a fight. I want to squeeze him.
Author's note: Hello, little angels. I have been gone for months, but I've been wanting to write something for a while now. Excuse me for the hiatus. However, I still can not promise that I'll be consistent from now on â but i love you still. Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: HELLA LONG. This is almost 3.000 words, sweet Jesus. As usual, if you know me, I like writing about dark, angsty shit. Nothing too bad, but you know, mention of fights, blood, smoking, etc.
I caught Chris staring at me again, that same cold, unreadable expression on his face. He had a cigarette between his fingers, as usual. His eyes were like ice, and whenever they landed on me, I felt a chill run down my spine. He never says anything â just watches, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if Iâve done something to offend him without even knowing it. I donât understand what I did to make him look at me that way, like heâs barely holding back some hidden resentment. And yet, every time I catch him watching, I canât help but wonder what heâs really thinking.
Iâve seen him with a few other people. Heâs not exactly warm with them either, but thereâs something different when he talks to them, a sort of casual ease. With me, itâs like heâs built up walls â high, thick ones, and Iâm just standing outside, banging on the gates. And every now and then, I think I catch a glimpse of something behind them, something vulnerable and unexpected, but itâs gone before I can be sure.
Chris was my older brother's closest friend, and he has been ever since they were little kids. No one ever got as close to him as my brother did. Whereas when it came to me, he was rather cold; I never understood why.
My thoughts were roughly interrupted by my brother's hand, which took a strand of my hair and pulled on it to annoy me.
"Ow, you fucking asshole!"
"Hey, wake the fuck up. I said me and Chris are leaving." I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris one more time, seeing that he still had that same look on his face.
Deciding to ignore it one more time, "yeah, bye. God." I said and grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.
I didnât want to watch anything in particular; Iâd just rather avoid looking at my brotherâs best friend once again.
"Where the hell are you?"
A notification popped up and before I read the sender's name, I already knew it was Fred. My ex.
Of course, I ignored it, but deep down, I knew he was losing it. Ever since we broke up, heâs been acting stranger and stranger â showing up at places he knows Iâll be, sending messages that alternate between apologies and accusations. Itâs like he canât decide if he wants me back or wants to make me regret ever knowing him. I kept telling myself heâd get over it eventually, that he just needed time. But lately, his behavior had me on edge, and I began wondering if heâd ever really let go.
Iâd never go back to him; thatâs something Iâm certain of. He crossed too many lines, left too many scars I canât forget. But now, itâs like heâs everywhereâlurking just out of sight, always one step behind me. I feel his presence even when heâs not there, a constant, heavy reminder that heâs still watching, still obsessing.
Iâve started checking over my shoulder more often, catching myself dreading the sound of my phone vibrating with yet another message from him. I tell myself itâs just paranoia, that heâs all talk and no real threat. But some small part of me canât shake the fear that this time, he might actually be out of control.
And I was right to be cautious. Because he finally crossed the line Iâd been hoping heâd stay behind. When I got home, my stomach twisted as I saw it; my car, with its tires slashed and a deep scratch running along the side. It was unmistakably his work; Iâd ignored his messages, blocked his number, and now he was trying to force my attention.
My hands shook as I took in the damage, a mix of anger and dread flooding through me. How could he stoop this low? He knew that car was everything to me, the one thing Iâd saved for and bought on my own. The memories of late nights spent driving to clear my head, the freedom it gave me â heâd tainted all of it in a single, desperate act. I wanted to scream, to call him and let him know just how furious I was. But I knew thatâs exactly what he wanted.
He wanted a reaction, wanted me to feel trapped and afraid, wanted to pull me back into his twisted little game. But I wouldnât give him the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, locked my jaw, and stared at my car.
"What.. the fuck is that?" My brother's voice echoed in my ears and I turned around to see that he was with Chris.
"Fred. Fucking Fred." I screamed, not able to contain my anger.
"That bastard.. I will fucking kill him." He said and got closer to the car to see the damage, "calm down" was what Chris said to him.
Chris looked shocked and angry, he walked towards me, "this motherfucker lives nearby?"
"Yeah⊠just a few blocks away." I sat down on the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them tightly. I looked up at Chris, my voice trembling, "that was my fucking car..." a tear slipped down my cheek, and in that moment, I couldnât tell if it was from anger or sadness.
Chris clenched his jaw, and I felt a rush of warmth as his hand reached down to cup my cheek. His touch was soft, gentle, and completely disarming. I couldnât remember the last time someone had held me like that, with such tenderness. He looked down at me with a promising expression, his eyes filled with determination. âIâll see what I can do about your car. I might have a friend who can fix it.â
His thumb brushed softly against my skin, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a strange mix of comfort and something deeper. The way he touched me sent a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my anger for just a moment. In such a chaotic moment, I couldnât help but think it was nice seeing him like this for once. I stayed silent and leaned into his hand, seeking that warmth, desperate for a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.
I was rather quiet the following days â I didn't want to go out of the house much. Not because this asshole scared me with what he did, but because that car meant a lot to me. Me and my brother lived by ourselves, and that car was the only thing I could call my own. Fred would pay and I'd make sure of that.
I was alone in my room getting ready for work, trying to drown out the chaos of the previous days when I heard the front door slam shut. My heart raced with curiosity and unease. Just as I was about to head downstairs, my brotherâs voice boomed through the house, cutting through the silence, âwhat the hell happened to you?â
I sprang to my feet, instinctively rushing toward the sound of the voices. As I reached the living room, I froze at the sight before me. Chris was leaning against the wall, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow and cheek, and staining his shirt. My brother stood in front of him, fists clenched, a mixture of concern and fury etched across his face.
âChris, what the actual fuck!â my brother exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. Chris turned his gaze toward me, and in that moment, everything else faded. Despite the blood and bruises, there was a softness in his eyes that held me captive, a silent plea that made my heart race.
âIâm fine,â Chris replied, though his voice was strained. He shifted slightly, not even a single emotion of fear, or pain, nothing. If anything, he had a pleased expression on his face, I could almost make out a smile. My brother continued to glare at him, demanding answers, but Chris seemed unwilling to give them to him.
âWhat happened?â I asked, stepping closer, my heart pounding. Chrisâs gaze flickered back to my brother, and for a brief moment, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I could sense that whatever had happened involved more than just a simple altercation, and the tension in the air was thick with unspoken words.
"Nothing happened. I just shouldn't have gone to Mike's. There was another fight and I got involved." My brother seemed to know what he was talking about, because his whole body language changed, softened.
"I told you, asshole. You should never go to Mike's. This bar is a shithole." He went off to the kitchen, probably going to grab something to clean the blood.
I walked closer to Chris, my sweaty fingers digging into my leather bag. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin contrasted by the coolness of the blood that trickled down from the cut above his eyebrow.
âChris,â I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my heart racing. âDoes it hurt a lot?â My fingertips lingered on his skin, tracing the line of the wound as if I could somehow erase the pain with my touch. His eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them â vulnerability, frustration, and a glimmer of something deeper that sent shivers down my spine.
He winced slightly at my touch but didnât pull away. Instead, he leaned into my hand, a subtle gesture that felt almost intimate in the tense air between us.
âNot much.â he said, his voice low and rough, but it was the way he looked at me that stole my breath. There was a rawness in his gaze, as if he was baring a part of himself that heâd kept hidden, and in that moment, everything else faded away.
âAre you sure youâre okay?â I asked, my thumb brushing lightly over his jawline, searching his eyes for reassurance. The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile bubble where nothing else mattered but the two of us. His expression softened, and I could see the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain.
âI will be,â he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, filled with a mixture of gratitude and something that felt like longing. It was as if, in that brief exchange, we shared an unspoken promise â a connection that transcended the chaos around us. My heart raced, and for the first time since the chaos began, I felt a sense of calm in the storm.
Having to go to work and leave him like this pained me, but I had to go, "I have to go to work.." I explained.
"Mhm. D'you want me to take you to work?" He said and I sighed.
"No. Of course not. Stay here, with my brother. I'll see you.. later." I nodded my head and said goodbye one last time before leaving.
The night air was cool against my skin as I walked home from work, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streetlights cast a faint glow on the pavement, illuminating the shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened â I couldnât shake the image of him standing there, bloodied yet resilient, leaning into my touch.
My heart raced at the memory, but alongside it was a gnawing concern. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? It was like him to end up in trouble, but I'd never actually see him like this.
As I approached my apartment, a sudden impulse gripped me. I didnât want to go home and drown in my thoughts; I wanted to see Chris again. I needed to know he was okay, to check on him in a way that felt more personal than just a casual conversation. With each step toward his place, a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbled within me.
I turned the corner, the familiar path leading me to his apartment building. The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that made me feel a little lighter despite the weight of everything else. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was overstepping or if heâd even want to see me after everything that had happened. But the thought of him alone, nursing his wounds and possibly replaying the day in his mind, pushed me forward.
I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. When I reached his door, I raised my hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. What if he wasnât ready to see me? But as I waited, I couldnât help but hope that heâd open the door, that heâd let me in â not just to his apartment, but to whatever was going on in his life.
"What.. are you doing here?" He furrowed his eyebrows, a little band-aid covering the wound on his eyebrow now, a cigarette between his lips.
"Sorry, Chris.. I couldn't.. stop thinking about you. I mean.. what happened to you.. today." I was nervous, I couldn't quite understand why.
He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let me in, and of course, I wasted no time. I sat down on his couch and he sat down beside me. So many years of knowing him, and I've never actually been inside his house, so I took a quick look around, trying to take in everything I could.
"I'm fine. I told you." He insisted and sipped from his beer that was on the coffee table, his cigarette nearly done now.
"Your cheek is swollen, you didn't even bother putting some ice on it. Geez." I huffed and got up to go to the kitchen, opening the freezer and wrapping some ice cubes in a towel.
I walked back to him and sat closer to him, cupping his cheek and gently pressing the ice on his other cheek. Only then did I realise how close we were, I could feel his breath fanning over my lips, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.
"My fiend. Zack. He will help you with the car." He whispered and I whispered back, "thank you.. so much."
The sight of him so vulnerable, the blood still seeping from the cut and the way he tried to mask the pain, made something deep within me stir. I forgot about everything else â the fight, the worry, the uncertainty of where we stood. All I could focus on was him and the way he looked at me, those fierce eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something more that made my pulse quicken.
I could see the way he held back a flinch, how he tried to remain stoic despite the pain. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a flush of desire that surprised me. I wanted to kiss him, to close the distance between us and erase the hurt with something softer, something intimate.
As I leaned closer, his gaze flickered to mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away.
âChris,â I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I hesitated just inches from his face. I could sense that he was just as caught up in the moment as I was, his eyes darkening with something that mirrored my own feelings.
Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both afraid of what this moment meant. But as I felt him respond, his hand gently cupping my neck, deepening the kiss, I knew I had crossed a line that I never wanted to return from.
The kiss was hungry, needy. I needed to catch my breath. As we pulled away for a breath, my heart raced, and I felt a rush of conflicting emotions, âthis is so wrong..â I whispered, my forehead resting against his.
âI know,â Chris replied, his voice thick with desire. He searched my eyes, a mix of guilt and longing swirling between us, "I cant stop now.â
âI shouldnât be here,â I breathed, feeling the warmth of his body so close. Yet I leaned in again, capturing his lips with mine once more.
He pulled back slightly, looking conflicted, âwhat if your brother finds out?â
âI donât.. care right now,â I admitted, my hands threading through his hair as I kissed him again, the heat of the moment overwhelming any reservations I had, âI just want to be here with you.â
âI shouldnât want this,â he murmured against my lips, his breath mingling with mine, âbut I do.â
âMe too,â I confessed, pulling him closer, lost in the moment, âI canât stop.â
âThen donât,â he whispered, his eyes darkening with intensity, âdon't think about anything else.â
With that, we dove back into the kiss, the world outside fading as we lost ourselves in each other.
As I left Chris's apartment that night, a rush of exhilaration filled me, and I realised that the unexpected had happened; my ex hadnât reached out at all since the incident with the car. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
A few days later, while I was passing by my brother's room, I heard him talking on the phone. Curiosity piqued, I paused outside the door, trying to listen in.
âI canât believe you did that, man,â my brother said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration, âhow did you even find his place?â
âThis bitch peed his pants when he saw me.â Chris replied, his voice low but amused, âit wasn't that hard, just had to ask around.â
Something shifted inside of me, realizing that Chris had taken matters into his own hands.
âYou know, you didnât have to do that, I was planning on destroying his car instead", my brother said.
âBut I wanted to,â Chris replied firmly, and I could hear him chuckle at what my brother said next.
I stepped back, my heart racing. So, it was Chris who had put an end to my exâs harassment. I couldnât help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. I knew then that my feelings for Chris were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge, and knowing he had my back made me feel safer than ever.
I found myself running back to his apartment again, right then and there, running up the stairs of his building as if someone was chasing me. I knocked on the door, loud enough for him to open it quickly, worry written in his eyes.
"Whatâ"
And this time I didn't let him finish. With tears in my eyes, I pressed my lips against his and lost myself in his arms.
pleaseee a fic where chris and reader meet for the first time (she's lowkey sad or some shit like that idk) and he's all starstruck by her đ
lucky you.
âCHRIS STURNIOLO FLUFF.
Author's note: hey y'all. I got the idea from this lovely anon (thank you for the request!đ€) and combined it with something that actually happened to me. Fate truly works in mysterious ways â so take this long, sappy story (based on true events, pft). I hope you like it! Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: long, sappy fluff. Very slight angst if you squeeze, but nothing crazy. Very long, didn't proofread!
My mom used to always say â "that's life; when one door closes, another door opens". And if I still lived in the same house with mom, she'd know; I haven't seen an opened door in a long while. It is unfair but it is what it is and I had no intention of succumbing to tears in the solitude of my nightly despair.
Seated on the chilled bench, I instinctively drew my knees towards my chest in a desperate bid for warmth. The sheer elegance of my black tights, though adorning my legs, proved futile against the biting cold. Unfazed, I refrained from complaining; after all, they were my cherished favorites. Mascara was most likely smudged from my previous ugly crying, yet I ignored it, taking solace in my sweater's embrace.
Leaning my head against my knees, my fingers absentmindedly engaged with the laces of my shoes â a subconscious act of distraction. In the midst of this self-imposed solitude, a sudden exclamation pierced the quietude.
"Shit!" I heard a voice, someone angry. The mysterious guy threw his hat on the pavement and scoffed, his hair nearly as messy as mine. His gaze shifted towards me, a thorough assessment from head to toe, "care if I sit next to you?" he asked quickly. Without much ado, I responded with a nonchalant shrug. I didn't care, I had way more things to worry about.
I could feel him rummaging through his pockets, trying to find God knows what, he seemed upset, anxious, "want a cig?" I didn't see him, but I saw his extended arm in front of me. I don't think he was looking at me either.
"Sure." I murmured under my breath, taking a cigarette from him half-empty packet.
"Why does life have to be such a fucking bitch?" I chuckled in response, treating it more as a statement than a question. Offering another shrug, I watched as he scanned the area, likely in search of his lighter.
"If I had the answer to that, I'd probably murder this bitch." I chuckled, he chuckled too.
He held the lighter in front of me and only then did I turn my head to look at him â he was definitely not what I expected to see from what I've heard. While I didn't dwell on it for long, it seemed he did, as seconds passed without his lighter igniting. His intense pale blue eyes remained fixed on mine, and I briefly removed the cigarette from my mouth.
"Hello?" was my mascara that smudged that I scared the guy? He hasn't uttered a word.
"Oh.. sorry." he shook his head, as though attempting to shake off the reverie that had consumed him in the past few moments in his own world, "I just.. didn't expect you to be here?"
"Well.. I'm pretty sure we haven't met before. So how come you didn't expect me?.." I was confused.
"No, I mean.. you are very beautiful." he almost whispered but I caught that, and if I was just a little disconnected from reality, I probably would've blushed.
"Oh. Thank you." my lips turned into a thin line â I put the cigarette back into my mouth, grabbing his lighter instead.
He chuckled, "and I thought I didn't know how to take a compliment." he took his lighter back, taking a puff of his own cigarette.
"Don't you hear like a thousand compliments on a daily basis?" with my knees still pulled up to my chest, I embraced them tightly, resting my head against the comforting curve of my legs.
"Hm. And yet this was the best compliment anyone has ever given me." he placed a leg on the bench, just so that he'd be able to have his whole body face me.
I couldn't help but laugh, "yeah, I'm good at giving things. Not receiving."
He nodded, his hat still on the ground although he didn't seem to care, "understood.." he smiled and wow, he had a nice smile, almost contagious, "a fellow people pleaser, nice to meet you. I'm Chris."
I reciprocated with a nod and a quick smile. My name slipped off my lips swiftly, echoed by him, and I couldn't help but notice how much better it sounded when it rolled off his tongue.
"Will I ever see you again?" he looked me dead in the eye.
"Probably not." I pursed my lips, looking back at him.
He nodded as if he understood and dropped his burnt cigarette to the ground. Chris grabbed his hat and got up, offering another smile, "I believe in fate."
"I don't." I teased, smiling.
"You probably should." he shouted, already far away from me to speak normally.
What an interaction.
It had been quite a while since said interaction. Not that I thought about the guy a lot, but he definitely was in the back of my mind. Even when I was outside, he'd still cross my mind every now and then, like a nice, distant memory.
I chuckled as I gulped down my whiskey â the music was too loud for my own liking but it was a Saturday night and it'd be a pity if I stayed home once again; my friends begged and I actually like hanging out with them. I watched as my friends danced with each other, not too far away from me, as I rummaged through my purse to find the money so I could pay and leave.
"Fucking.. shit.." I cursed under my breath, turning my phone's flashlight on because the lights in that bar were bright as fuck, but apparently not enough to actually help me see.
"D'you need any help?" I heard a somewhat familiar voice shouting behind me. I turned around and my eyes widened when I saw him.
"I.. you!" I was beyond surprised, to say the least, because I was truly convinced I'd never see him again. Not because I didn't want it; but because I had enough on my plate already.
"Shit.." he whispered, and if I wasn't already looking at his lips, I wouldn't be able to know what he said, "..see, I told you fate works in mysterious ways."
"This was just a coincidence." I convince myself.
Was it, though?
"This was no coincidence and you know it.." he grinned and I let my eyes travel down his body for a few seconds â he looked best in black, ".. I need to see you again.." he muttered.
"Well, it seems you will indeed see me again." I smiled.
"Does that mean you'll give me your phone number?" he grinned and I saw his eyes do the same thing mine did to him; check me out.
I hummed, "..hmm.. no. We'll see if fate actually works." I smiled.
"You can't be serious.." he tilted his head, looking at me in disbelief, "I found you again, how can I leave when I don't know if I'll ever see you again?"
"You said you believed in fate."
I found him undeniably attractive and intriguing. However, at that moment, I realized I wasn't emotionally equipped to entertain the idea of liking someone or embarking on dates. The weight of my personal struggles loomed large, and I couldn't shake the fear that if he discovered the extent of my problems, he'd likely reject me. Hence, I concluded it was better to distance myself now rather than risk inevitable disappointment later on.
It's not like I'd see him again.
Truly, it's been more than a month since I last saw him; I did think about him way more often than usual but he still remained a nice, distant memory. A memory that was in the past and would never be in the future.
"Yo, we're leaving already? It's 2AM." my friend whined, although we were already walking down the stairs, toward the exit, with our jackets on and bags in our hands.
"No, love, we're just taking our fucking bags for a little walk." another friend replied, rolling her eyes and I couldn't help but laugh at their bickering.
Immediately after departing from the bar, he made his way out of the restaurant located directly beneath it. You have to be fucking kidding me.
"You.." he whispered, his eyes widened.
My mouth hung open, my eyes as wide as his; I really couldn't believe it this time. This couldn't be a coincidence, right?
"What.. are you doing here?" there was nothing else that could leave my mouth at that time.
"I work here.. now, you can't tell me this is a coincidence." he walked closer to me, although still keeping a distance to be respectful.
It definitely wasn't but I was still in the same mood I was back then.
"I can't tell just yet." I teased him; deep down I wished I could give him way more. But I knew I couldn't.
"Don't.. tell me.. are you not gonna give me your phone number? Again?" he chuckled in disbelief once again. I nodded.
"He better be a murderer, bitch; that's the only valid reason for you not giving him your phone number yet." shit, I completely forgot that my friends were literally behind me, staring at us; they knew nothing about this.
"Stop." I whispered to my friend and I don't think she heard me but she definitely saw the expression on my face.
"Please?" he said and I almost gave in when I saw those eyes.
I have always been self-destructive but this wasn't it, this time. It was realistic, right? I really couldn't do this; I knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with my lifestyle so I was just doing me a favor by saving myself from possible heartbreak. Right?
"I promise you now; if we meet again, I'm opening up to you. Fully. My phone number, my likes, my diskikes." I gave him a teasing smile, which he seemed happy to receive.
"Pinky promise. Now. I trust fate but not you." he chuckled and so did I.
"But you trust my pinky?" I laughed but he seemed serious, despite his playful stare. I sighed, still smiling, wrapping my pinky around his, "..promise."
This would probably never happen. It's fine.
This time, I really thought about him; dreamed about him even. That was very unlike me but it happened either way. I seemed to be doing lots of things that were unlike me lately â like going to this bar again. I wasn't going to see him but I was hoping to.
The whiskey was cold against my lips, my black dress hugging my hips as I sat down on the couch.
"Third time's the charm."
No.
I turned my head and saw Chris speaking to the friend group that were sitting next to ours; I saw them getting up and leaving, Chris replacing them.
"Oh God.. what did you tell them?" my grin was wider than usual, I really wanted to see him after all.
"That.. I needed to sit next to you. And that it was a matter of life and death." he smiled, taking a sip of his own drink.
"You're crazy."
"For you." he said, searching for something.
Before realising, I saw his phone in front of me, signaling me to dial my phone number. And of course, I did.
"So. Start. Tell me everything."
"Do you have free time?" I tilted my head, still looking at him.
"For you? Always." he chuckled.
I cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, looking into his eyes to make sure he wanted to kiss me as well. And as soon as I felt him leaning towards me, I placed the softest kiss on his own soft lips.
