𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 ౨ৎ

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[matts-girlfriend]

𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢’𝘴 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝜗𝜚

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marianna, 20. she/her, social work student. aug virgo. brunette. palestine. cherry red, dark green. the neighborhood. the marias. sombr. the 1975. blood orange. the sturniolo triplets. chratt girl.

[sturnlsstuff]

COINCIDENCE • fratboy!chris x sassy!reader

— chris has been having problems and unfortunately there's only one person who could be the solution

— warnings: smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, cursing, unprotected p in v, eating pussy, dirty talk ig, making out, car/semi public sex, use of y/n, petnames, etc. — english isn't my first language.

a/n: i was supposed to write a small little blurb cus i missed them but i just kept going and...... well, yeah. 😀(i suggest reading my push and pull series first if you haven't, so you could understand their dynamic better. can be read solo too tho.) ALSO it's written from chris's pov so i used 3rd person narration hope yall dont mind. anyway have fun xoxo

ৎ୭~ৎ୭~ৎ୭

chris was more than frustrated. at first he didn't really acknowledge it, or maybe he did, but he just shrugged it off like he shrugs off everything else.

everything started a month ago, in april.

the first frat party after easter, keeping chris in a good mood the whole evening. some girl was all over him the whole time, making it to his room at the end of the night. now her hips were moving on top of him, her clothed, soaked pussy humping against his crotch while her lips are attacking his in the way chris likes. usually it'd already do the thing.

but it's not doing it this time.

he's going through the motions, hands on her waist, setting the pace he wants, mouth at her neck, but there's really... nothing. no spark, no neediness, nothing. he can't get it up even when her mouth tries working him up, kissing the base of his dick, sucking the tip, licking, playing with his balls. and yet his cock doesn't even twitch.

she stops after doing it for fifteen minutes, leaning back, searching his face in confusion. "you're tryin' too fuckin' hard," he blurts out once he sees her expression and realizes what is happening.

he has been having some slight problems lately, but only with cumming, never with getting bricked. he'd blame it on being distracted and overwhelmed with his own bullshit.

"oh?" she blinks. "am i doing it wrong?"

chris's eyes narrow and he frowns now as something clicks in his head. "are you a virgin?"

"i— what?" she gets a little shy. "no?"

"then the fuck you askin' me for? you should know," he scoffs, sitting up and pulling up his boxers.

"i'm sorry, i thought that's okay—"

"that's the problem," he cuts her off. "stop thinkin' so much and just do."

the girl obviously leaves after this and chris is aware that she wasn't the problem. she was doing everything right, moving the right way, she was hot and willing, but it just didn't work for him.

since then, he started focusing on his dick a little too much. at some point he even stopped checking girls out, because no matter what girl he picked, nothing was doing it for him. not even his own hand. he'd watch porn for hours, text with girls late at night, jerk off on facetime with them, and it still remained completely soft.

now he can't ignore it anymore and it's driving him insane. he's pissed. he can't even blame anyone, so he just gets awfully mean instead, not even on purpose, he just doesn't know how to deal with this thing. he's snapping at his friends, his patience gets shorter, he brushes off girls faster, blaming them even when they're clearly not the issue. he starts to drink more, smoke even more weed and sleep even less. matt and nick are the first to notice, trying to ask what's going on, but he brushes them off.

nate, who also noticed, gets fed up with him at some point, finally confronting him about his dickhead behaviour. and chris, stoned out of his mind with a need to talk to someone, thought, who else should he tell if not his best friend?

"... serious?" nate asks after a moment of silence.

"deadass," chris replies, chewing on his pancakes. they're in the kitchen, the frat house was usually half empty this early in the morning. chris had another sleepless night, nate woke up to get something to drink and found him here half an hour ago.

"and nothing works?" nate raises his eyebrows, in full disbelief.

"i tried everything," chris mumbles with a full mouth.

"everything?"

"yes."

"like, maybe you takin' the wrong girls."

"they're not the problem."

"what 'bout morning wood?"

"had it only twice and each time i tried to do somethin' about it, it went soft."

"what about porn with—"

"fuck, nate, m'sayin', i've tried everything. my fuckin' dick won't get hard, fuck," chris snaps, one pancake sliding off his plate because of his extreme hands movements, and it hits the floor. "fuck!"

"well," nate scratches his chin, leaning back in his chair. "maybe it's the weed? heard it affects if you smoke a lot."

"nah," he shakes his head, picking up the pancake and sitting back at the counter. "i've always smoked a lot. it fuckin' bothers me, i need to get laid and i fuckin' can't. y'know i saw this chick last night and she was hot as fuck, like, two months ago i'd have her from behind 'n shit, and now it didn't even fuckin' twitch, bro."

"damn," nate sighs. he's silent for a moment, then he asks. "did anything happen?" chris frowns, taking a bite. "like?"

nate thinks. "i'm having a hard time when i got a lot goin' on, so maybe that's that?"

"mh," chris hums and shrugs, eating the rest of his pancake.

"or you just got bored of that easy shit."

"what that means?" he frowns.

"y'know, you pick a new random girl every week, fuck her and that's it. this whole thing's predictable, bro. like, no thinkin' involved."

"since when this a problem?"

"since it stopped working? i don't know," nate shrugs. "but from my experience, sex's better when you know and like the person you fuck."

chris rolls his eyes. "yeah, yeah, that relationship bullshit. keep that to y'self."

"what can i say?" nate spreads his hands and smiles. "m'in love now."

"yeah, just like you were with the last chick. and the one before her."

"okay, now i mean it though. i like that one. and m'tellin' you it's better when you like 'em."

"hm," chris thinks then grimaces. "nah. that ain't this."

but he doesn't brush it off completely. because last time he tolerated someone, the sex was fucking amazing.

"think 'bout it," nate continues. "when was the last time someone got under your skin? like, maybe you're bored of the routine."

chris doesn't answer, because he knows. and nate knows. and chris knows that nate knows. and nate knows that chris knows that he knows he knows.

fuck.

"yup," nate hums.

"nah," chris scoffs.

"yeah," nate nods, the corner of his mouth twitching. "your dick wants what it wants."

"shut the fuck up," chris huffs, pressing the tip of his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his high brain working harder now. "it's not about her."

"well, it's you bringing her up, not me, so.."

"nathan, i'm gonna knock your teeth out."

"a'ight," nate replies, raising his hands in surrender. after a moment of silence, he can't hold back and asks, "when was the last time you saw her?"

chris groans and exhales deeply, dragging a hand across his face. "don't know. didn't pay much attention." nate gives him a look, "c'mon, man."

"for real," he replies, putting the plate down and getting off the counter. "don't remember. probably somewhere on the hallway or somethin'."

"and?"

"and what? nothing. i said hey, she replied, that's all," he grabs a pepsi from the fridge, cracking it open.

"so y'all still on that phase," nate snorts, shaking his head.

"it was her goddamn decision, the fuck you want me to do? besides it's better that way."

"yeah, so better that you can't fuck no more."

"fuck you, it doesn't have shit to do with her," chris mumbles. "it's been a year, you think i give a fuck?"

"you? no," nate says innocently. "but your dick's a different story."

chris rolls his eyes. "i don't even remember how it felt with her, so drop it."

that was actually a lie.

chris does remember. for the first two months he had even dreams about it, but he knew it will never happen again. he barely sees her anyway. it's not like they're ignoring each other on purpose, their paths just never cross, luckily. and maybe chris kind of takes care of it too. he just tried to respect her decision or whatever.

"she just got back from spain last week," nate gets him back on earth. "all tanned and shit. ya saw on insta?"

"i don't follow her anymore," chris takes another sip. "and don't really care."

"what i mean, is that she looks good, bro."

"she's still messin' with that guy?" chris asks nonchalantly, actually curious. because she's still friends with nick, he hears about she's up to, even when he doesn't want to.

"nope," he replies with a small grin, almost satisfied that chris asked. "she said he didn't get her flowers for her birthday, so she sent him to hell."

chris raises his eyebrows, then nods. he shouldn't be surprised. he kind of forgot how stubborn she was. sometimes he wonders if she's still the same or maybe worse. "good for her," he mutters. "anyway, i hope i'll fuckin' figure it out, 'cus one more week and you'll lock me up in a psych ward."

nate snorts. "yeah, hopefully not. and think 'bout what i said."

"no," chris replies.

"a'ight," nate shrugs, but can't hold back a smirk. "for me, you two are too dramatic and i've told you that last year too. but okay, if you want it that way, then fine," he shrugs.

"yeah," chris hums. "don't tell anyone about this, by the way."

"duh," nate nods, 'zipping' his mouth with his fingers. he's loyal, but since that accident on the beach when he spilled about nancy, he's been awfully careful even when drunk. the last thing he wants is to lose chris or his trust.

~~~

later that day, chris is pissed once again. he hit the gym, went for a long ass walk, did a lot of shit that should make a human tired. he was hoping he'd get some sleep tonight, but no. his body was physically exhausted, but he still couldn't fall asleep.

he shifts to lay flat on his back, one arm behind his head, the other loosely holding his phone above his face while scrolling on instagram. in his other hand he holds a joint, taking a hit from time to time.

he exhales slowly, skipping through stories, thinking that maybe the boredom he feels will finally put him to sleep.

but then as he scrolls, someone's profile pops up on suggested, making him scoff. how is this possible that it happens today, when he talked about her for the first time in a long while? the fuck?

the curiosity starts to grow as he stares at the little profile picture. is this a new hair color?

his thumb hovers for half a second longer than it should and then he accidentally clicks on the profile.

and there it is.

the last time he was here, she had much less posts and followers. now she even has highlights.

chris shifts slightly against the mattress, jaw tightening as he scrolls down, realizing that nate wasn't exaggerating. she does look good, different in a way he can't explain. more intentional and sharper somehow. he's been seeing her sometimes on campus or with nick, but he never paid enough attention.

he raises his eyebrows, going through her posts. she's showing off and he can't even blame her.

his thumb keeps moving, tapping into one of the higlights. spain. her skin darker than he remembers, hair shorter and a little curly from the water. he leans his head back against the wall, dragging his hand across his face and exhaling deeply as he keeps tapping to see more. he stops at one specific selfie where she's laying on some bed on her stomach, her ass up just enough to catch an eye, but not give quite much to see, her chin on her hand, creating a little pout on her lips. the lights in the room low, keeping the vibes almost intimate.

suddenly it's not just a picture, it's a memory. he's having flashbacks. she used to lay on his bed like this, wearing his shirt after he just completely fucked her out, her ass would probably be still all red and in marks from his hands. the way she'd glance at him over her shoulder, cheeks all flushed, hair messy and moaning his name as he was taking her from behind. how she'd be grabbing his sheets for dear life, making a mess on his bed. the way she talked to him while being on top and riding his dick however she wanted, knowing that this was the only time she could have any control over him, and he'd let her, because he loved that shit. she'd piss him off on purpose only so he could fuck her senseless later.

chris swallows hard, shifting slightly again, like he's trying to shake it off. he scoffs, but his thumb keeps moving anyway, watching another story, seeing another selfie, each from a different angle. and suddenly, he lets himself remember all of it. the fights, the tension, the energy. she was unpredictable, challenging him since the beginning.

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, jaw clenching. because he knows it's over now and it's mostly his own fault. not that he misses her, but the sex was good and there was no question about it. she knew it, he knew it and probably everyone who's ever heard them through the walls.

"fuck," he mutters, opening his eyes and frowning, looking down at his lap when he feels the slightest movement. not much, but just enough. finally something even if just a flicker. the shift was so small that it pissed him off more than if there was nothing at all.

he stills, staring down like if he moves too fast , it'll disappear.

"what the fuck," he mumbles, eyes moving to the screen, more focused now, testing himself.

another story where she's at the beach in nothing but bikini, and he feels it again. the same faint feeling he craved to have for the past month, but couldn't. his hand moves to adjust himself and his dick isn't even half-hard, but it's not as soft as before.

"you've gotta be kiddin' me," he groans, dropping his head back and staring at the ceiling, phone clutched in his hand.

a mix of emotions hits him all at once, messy and overlapping. annoyance and frustration, but also that same, familiar pull that he hasn't had since last year.

would she be the solution to his problem?

but how is he gonna solve it? it's impossible.

but wasn't she impossible at first too?

he looks back at her face, grimacing when guilt immediately hits him, because he knows he's got to do something. he's too selfish not to do it. he felt almost bad, because it looked like she stepped into a new version of herself and didn't plan to step back out, and he had already started planning how to fuck it up.

~~~

chris had a plan, and the only person who could help was nate, which was pretty humiliating, honestly, but he was also the only person who wouldn't judge him.

"you're literally trash tonight, bro," nate says, not even looking away from the screen.

"suck my dick."

"if it wasn't out of service."

chris sends him a glare, hitting his head and knocking nate's cap off. "shut the fuck up."

"chill," nate snorts, reaching for his hat.

"i can't chill," chris huffs, taking another hit from the joint sitting between them on the floor, next to the empty energy drinks cans. they've been playing fortnite all day, chris didn't even know what time it is.

he exhales the clouds of smoke, looking back at the game. "about that...." he starts slowly. "was thinkin' about what you said last weekend."

"and what did i say?"

"that maybe m'bored of the same shit over and over again," he replies. "y'know, the routine or whatever."

"oh, yeah, i said that," nate nods with a small smirk, looking at chris. "and you're sayin' m'right?"

"i said i was thinkin' about what you said, not that you're right, dickhead."

"same thing," nate's smirk grows. "so?"

"fuck off," chris mutters, shifting on the floor and leaning back against the bed. he sighs, eyes on the screen. "m'sayin' it's just fuckin' annoying. nothing literally changes and it's been over a month. and now i know it's, like, psychological or whatever, which is even worse."

nate snorts. "you sayin' psychological sounds wrong."

"i'm being deadass, dude."

"psychological how?"

"just psychological."

"but psychological in what way exactly?"

"psychological in a way when it's fuckin' psychological."

"so, like, psychologically you can't fuck anyone who's not her or—"

"psychologically i'm gonna fuckin' beat your ass if you don't shut your mouth," chris cuts him off, glaring at nate who was grinning from ear to ear. "and i didn't even mention her."

"yet," nate adds. "but it is about her, no?"

"no," chris scoffs. he scratches his head. "i mean, i'm just sayin'... i just need to figure somethin' out. it's not even about her."

nate barked out a laugh. "you cannot be serious."

"it's not," chris insisted. "it's about fixing the problem."

"the problem being your dick."

chris pointed at him, "exactly."

"so what's the plan?" nate asks, taking a hit from the joint.

"there's no plan..." chris mutters. "i just thought about it... maybe if she would, y'know, help me get it to work, then we could go back to no talkin' and it'd be okay."

"until your dick stops working again."

"don't even say that, that shit's a nightmare," chris says seriously.

"okay, but what's even going on? like, what happened that you can't fuck? 'cus i like her and shit, but there's no way that after a year you got so nostalgic that you can't get hard."

chris takes another hit off the joint, slowly exhaling. after the last talk with nate, he lowkey realized what could've affect him so bad, but he's not going to tell anyone about it. he has to deal with it alone and he will, he just didn't know the stress is gonna cause him so much problems.

"whatever that thing with her was, it's gonna work. it has to," chris says instead.

"but she's not gonna talk to you, y'know that," nate says, looking at the screen. "and honestly, she's doing great from what i know, so maybe you could figure it out without her."

chris frowns, looking at him. "what, you her bodyguard now?"

"obviously not—"

“you acting like nick," chris huffs. “don't do this, don't do that, blah, blah... actin' like she's made of glass that is so easy to break. believe me, she's not."

"well, nick's a different story, 'cus they're friends. i'm only on speakin' terms with her, so i don't really give a fuck, but after..."

"great," chris cuts him off. "if you don't give a fuck, then you gonna help me. obviously she's not gonna hang out with me and i can't just randomly text her. pretty sure i'm blocked, actually."

nate sighs, putting the console down when they both lose the match. "so what? you want me to set you two up?" he raises an eyebrow.

chris hesitated for a small second. "not us," he corrects nate. "just invite people, y'know, like... she won't show up to the frat. she was here, what, like three times since last year? and it was either to come get riley's drunk ass or when nick was here, which is rare."

"so, you want me to throw a party?"

"nah, then i can't talk to her," he replies, realizing what he'd admitted approximately one second too late. "i mean, i gotta talk to her. i can't just walk over and pull my dick out, hoping she'll happily hop on it. the fuck?"

"right," nate nods, grinning again.

chris looked ready to commit homicide. "the fuck you smilin' for?"

"nothing," nate shrugs, still smiling. "okay, yeah, i'll help. who am i inviting?"

"not much people, just enough so nick or riley don't notice me talkin' to her. remember it ain't a party."

"okay," nate nods. "but how you gonna convince 'em to come?"

"i'll handle nick and if nick comes i bet the other one will two."

nate nods, already grabbing his phone. "this weekend?"

"duh," chris hums. "can't wait another week to get fuckin' laid."

"a'ight, man," nate snorts, typing out a message. "what will you tell her? i mean, you gonna play games or straight up tell her what's up?"

"she'd laugh in my face," chris huffs. "first i gotta see if we still got that thing 'cus if we don't, then it ain't gonna work either."

"that thing?"

"y'know, like, that sexual tension or whatever."

"and if you do?"

"then i'll figure it out."

once nate sent the message to people, chris realised that he might be getting himself into another shit. how is he going to stop stressing, when he causes himself even more stress? because if this won't work or if she won't even talk to him, it means he'll be stuck with his broken dick for god knows how long and he might explode. is there a fucking doctor for this? he felt insane.

two days later, the frat house was weirdly calm for once. not dead silent, but it wasn't that usual type of party where music was vibrating through the walls hard enough to cause brain damage. nate kept it small, just like chris wanted. some frat guys, a couple of girls from campus and some friends. people sitting on counters, mostly chatting with each other, drinks in hands, the music playing low from the speaker in the kitchen.

it was totally intentional, but it looked casual and natural, which is funny, considering chris had spent the last twenty four hours acting like he was preparing for war. maybe he was. he wouldn't even blame her if she threw a glass bottle at him.

now he stood near the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone while interally losing his fucking mind, because she still wasn't here and it's been an hour.

every time the front door opened, his head turned automatically before he could stop himself. he felt like a dumb idiot, but she was his last hope. he remembers, how after their first fuck, he had some problems with coming with other girls, and she fixed it quite easily. now it's a little different and definitely worse, but he believes it will work.

but every second that passed made him more irritated, which nate obviously noticed. "you're pacing," he muttered, pouring himself another drink.

"m'literally standin' still."

"sure."

chris glared at him, then his eyes moved back at the door when he heard it being opened. nick walked in first, then riley appeared right behind him.

they barely made it two steps into the frat house before chris noticed one very important thing. she wasn't with them.

at first, he thought maybe she was behind them or still outside, but once nick started walking over to him, he knew she's definitely not here. he felt his stomach sink instantly, because the whole fucking point of this was for her to come here.

"hey," nick says, giving them a small nod. "what's up?"

chris nodded back, acting normal. "didn't think i'd ever see you here willingly again."

"was bribed with alcohol."

"who wasn't," riley says, walking over too. "what's up, sturniolo? new hat to hide your receving hairline? have you thought about getting some hair transplant yet?"

chris exhales deeply. "nice to see you too. cool bangs. this to hide your big ass forehead?"

"it's called big brain, dickhead. some shit you don't have."

"lovely," nick comments under his breath.

it was no secret that riley despises him. even if him and her bestfriend are technically on good terms, because they ended things peacefully after all, riley still holds a grudge against him and each time she sees him she makes sure he's aware of it.

nate, who was standing beside chris with a drink in his hand, looked between them amused and spoke before riley could. "where's y/n? i invited all three of ya."

chris wanted to hit and thank him at the same time. because what a stupid fucking question to ask, but also thank fucking god he asked.

nick shrugged. "she's busy."

riley snorts. "yeaaah," she dragged out slowly, smirking. "really busy."

chris keeps his expression calm. he just knows riley did that to annoy him, because she looked right at him while saying that. she does that all the time, and it sometimes makes chris wonder if he's still talked about between these girls. otherwise, riley wouldn't try to get a reaction out of him, right? like, did she actually move on or maybe not completely?

honestly there wasn't even anything to move on from, for him at least. he only sometimes thought of her body, because that, sure as hell, was a view he couldn't forget. how it looked, how it felt. maybe sometimes he wanted to have someone who'd talk back to him or piss him off on purpose too, because he got used to it, and all those other girls do is just kissing his ass which is quite exhausting after a while.

"oh," nate replies. "where she at?"

chris pinches his hand. nate groans in pain and grimaces. "you drink tonight?" chris asks nick, drawing the attention away from nate.

nick nods. "yeah, but not much. last time i got too fucked up."

"i literally heard that last week too," riley huffs. "but, yeah, let's get drinks. can't deal with this jungle sober," she side eyes chris and jerks her head toward the kitchen. nick snorts and follows her.

as soon as they disappear around the corner, chris turns to nate immediately. "what the fuck does busy mean?"

nate shrugs.

"you said she was comin'."

"no, i said riley said they're coming. so i thought she means all three of 'em."

"well, she's not fuckin' here," chris huffs, clenching his jaw. his whole plan is pointless now.

"chill out," nate mumbles, looking way too entertained already. "maybe she'll come. y'know she shows up late often."

chris drags a hand through his hair, adjusting his hat. he exhales deeply, rubbing his temples and staying quiet for a minute before looking at his bestfriend again. "she's not comin'," chris states.

"you don't know that—"

"yeah, i do."

he could literally feel that awful feeling that this whole night was about to go shit. he wouldn't care so much if he wasn't so desperate to get laid.

he grabs a drink and downs it in one go.

for the next hour, he tries to act normal, but he can feel the irritation spreading inside his body, making it harder to relax with each minute. every time the front door opened, his head turned automatically, and every fucking time it wasn't her. by the second hour, after he just had a pointless make out session with some ginger girl, he stops hiding that he's in a terrible mood. he keeps drifting in and out of conversations, barely listening, snapping at the guys for stupid things, smoking more weed than he meant to. at some point, matt had to take away all the joints chris had with him, which pissed him off even more, so he walked outside, pulling out a joint from his sock. the backyard was empty and peaceful, the cold air hitting him immediately.

he huffs, leaning against the railing, lighting up a joint, inhaling deeply. “stupid fuck," he mutters under his nose and snorts at the thought of matt thinking chris would've only three joints for the whole night, and keeping them only in his pockets.

please.

"you need to calm the fuck down."

chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "oh, for fuck's sake," he mumbles, before opening his eyes and seeing nate stepping outside, closing the back door behind. "m'calm," he says.

"yeah," nate scoffs, looking over at him. he frowns, noticing him smoking. "didn't matt just— where— y'know what? doesn't matter," he sighs. "i have news."

"what kind of news?" chris asks uninterested, exhaling deeply. nate shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket. "so..."

chris stared at him. "so?"

nate grimaces. "she's on a date."

chris blinks. "a what?"

"a date."

"the fuck?" chris raised his eyebrows. "with who?"

nate pulls his phone out, opening instagram and clicking something. then he turns his phone around to show chris a story.

he narrows his eyes to see better, because the light on the picture was dim. there were drinks and food on the table, clearly some kind of bar. it was a picture of her smiling and holding a glass of wine, her hair falling onto her shoulders in waves, cheeks pink and glowy, eyes sparkling. he was pretty sure it was the lighting, because there's no way she can be this happy. besides, what place is this? it's no fucking fancy restaurant, what the fuck is she smiling about? it looks like a cheap bar and if she wasn't dressed so fancy and cool, this picture would've looked shit.

and there's his account tagged.

chris frowns. "what the fuck?"

"yeah," nate scratches his head and turns his phone off.

"she ditched me to go out with some.... who the fuck is this?"

"well, technically—"

"she preferred to go to some cheap ass bar rather than come here with her friends? invited by her other friend— what the fuck?"

"actually—"

"where the fuck is this?" chris asks, taking another drag and throwing the joint away.

"what? you wanna go there?"

"i don't wanna," chris replies. "m'gonna go there, the fuck?"

"yo," nate blinks and moves quickly when chris is already moving. he grabs his shoulder. "whatcha gonna do, hm? be smart for a second."

chris yanks away immediately, but it doesn't stop nate from trying to speak some sense into his head. "chill out," nate insists. "first of all, she didn't ditch you, 'cus she doesn't even know you asked me to do this and invite her. second of all, you shouldn't be even surprised she didn't come, when she only comes to the frat when there's emergency. like, riley blackin' out last month or her talking to that crazy ex of hers. this type of shi''," nate says. "so honestly, your plan sucked."

"thanks for tellin' me earlier, dumbfuck," chris scoffs.

"was about to, but then riley said they'll come, so i was like, okay, maybe i was wrong. clearly not."

"that's why i gotta go there."

"and do what? hm? what you gonna do? drag her outta there? do i gotta remind you that you got no right to be jealous and mad—?"

"m'not fuckin' jealous. i'm fuckin' horny and my fuckin' dick won't fuckin' work," chris snaps.

"tell her that and see how fast she gonna slap the shit out of you," nate huffs. "that was literally the reason she wanted to stop hookin' up with ya, remember? she said she'd feel like shit if it continues. you told me that, yeah?"

"i guess," chris mumbles.

"so," nate continues. "you think she'll so happily agree to fuck you again, when you make her feel this way?"

"it's been a year."

"if it changed, she'd probably already reach out, no?"

chris thinks for a minute.

"fuck," he says, taking his hat off when his head suddenly gets itchy. he wants to rip his hair out. "why the fuck you're sayin' all of this now? you were the one to suggest me to fuck her, 'cus apparently my dick misses her."

nate raises his eyebrows. "bro, i just said you gotta fuck someone you like and who's fun, and stop with those meaningless hookups, 'cus it clearly doesn't do it no more. i meant like a new person maybe. you were the one to think of her."

"you literally brought her up!"

"you did," nate corrects him. "i just responded, like..."

"fuck," chris says again and sighs. "show me that story again."

nate shakes his head slightly, but does it anyway, showing him her story once again. chris tilts his head to the side, now paying more attention to how she looks. then he clicks on that guy's profile. too many posts, mostly posting his car or some fuckass selfies. he has like four highlights, one for his car— obviously— one for 'photodumps', one for his dog and one for him.

it's literally captioned as 'me.'

“what kind of man has a fuckin' highlight of himself?" chris cringes. "or does photo dumps when the month ends? april photo dump, so slay," he does a high pitched voice. “is he deadass?"

nate snorts. "photo dumps are cool."

"yeah, but not this kind. look," he opens the highlight. "what the fuck is this? a fucking photo of a fucking matcha? who the fuck drinks that shit?"

"nick does."

"exactly."

then chris frowns. "wait, is it the same guy? didn't you tell me they stopped talkin'?"

"that's what i heard."

"you literally said she stopped talkin' to him. 'cus he forgot her birthday," chris looks at him, giving nate his phone back.

nate looks defensive immediately. "i said flowers."

"what?"

"he forgot to buy her flowers," nate corrects. "for her birthday. i don't know. i just heard her complain' to nick once."

"that's fuckin' stupid."

nate shrugs helplessly, "don't know, man. maybe he got her the flowers eventually."

chris grimaced, "i thought her standards would get higher after me, but shit got lower." he exhales deeply, looking back at nate. "lemme see it again," he reaches for nate's phone.

"bro," nate mutters, but unlocks his phone again. chris leans in, "zoom in."

"how the fuc—"

"take a screenshot, i don't fuckin' know. zoom in."

nate rolls his eyes, but does it anyway. "how many bars do we know?" chris asks.

"i don't know," nate replies. "what we doin' this for anyway? you can't just go there, chris."

but chris isn't listening. he's squinting his eyes at the picture, trying to see anything. "green neon sign," he mutters.

nate looks at the screen. "the martini glass," he mumbles and frowns, now paying more attention. "hold on—"

"what?" chris looks at him instantly.

"hold on," he repeats. "top left corner— that neon lights.... i threw up because of this shit."

"huh?"

“they made me sick, i literally threw up all fifteen beers i drank," he explains. “beer in a martini glass. matt made fun of me. don't you remember? new year's eve?"

"i blacked out," chris says.

"that's venus," nate adds, still looking at the picture.

"the bar downtown?" chris raises his eyebrows.

"yeah."

"you sure?"

nate nods slowly. "like, ninety percent sure."

"told you he took her to some cheap ass bar," he scoffs, already putting his hat back on. nate notices it immediately. "you ain't goin' there."

"i absolutely am."

"no."

"relax," he pats nate's shoulder. "m'just goin' out. it's boring here tonight anyway."

"chris, she'll fucking know."

"coincidence."

"dude—"

but chris was already walking back to the frat house, getting upstairs to his room to freshen up a little bit. not even twenty minutes later, he had somehow made an even worse decision, because apparently going alone would actually look suspicious, nate was right about that.

so naturally, he recruited backup, which was a random girl that was alone, sipping on her drink in the kitchen at the frat. she was pretty and seemed a little dumb, so he thought she'd be perfect. he didn't even know her name, nor did he care. what mattered is that she agreed immediately, which honestly made the situation more annoying than helpful, and he realised that when they walked into the bar.

she was talking nonstop. like, genuinely.

"...and then my professor literally said attendance is mandatory, but who even does that?"

"yeah."

"and i was like, okay, if you wanted us there so bad, maybe don't schedule an eight in the morning—"

"crazy."

she just kept talking while chris was losing his mind. he nods automatically at random intervals, while scanning the room for approximately the fiftieth time. there was no sign of her and his irritation started to climb steadily, because not only did he drag himself here, but he also dragged this girl with him, and now he was stuck pretending to be engaged in a conversation he couldn't give a fuck less about.

"...so then emma texted me—"

"mm."

"...and honestly? i think she's just jealous—"

chris orders drinks, hoping it'll shut the girl up for a minute, at least.

where the fuck is she?

maybe nate was wrong and it wasn't this bar? or maybe she left already?

great.

"... and my roommate literally stole my curling iron—"

chris rubs his forehead slowly, getting fed up with this. he was about to tell her to shut the fuck up, then he stopped mid breath, seeing someone walking out of the bathroom and walking toward a table in the corner of the bar. his brain recognized her before the rest of him caught up.

she sits back down at her table, smiling at the guy and brushing her hair off her shoulder. chris looks at his drink, trying not to look like he just got a million dollars.

fuck yeah.

chris fixes himself immediately, leaning slightly against the bar, forcing himself into something resembling normal. then he casually looks over at her table again—

she's already looking.

she saw him.

chris keeps the neutral expression on his face, keeping the little smile, like he actually enjoyed talking to the girl in front of him. she was looking directly at him, the eye contact lasting maybe two seconds and chris sees how her expression changes. surprise first, then slight confusion and a small frown. then she looks away.

he feels something sharp spark immediately in his chest, because he got a reaction and that's exactly what he hoped for. he has to stop himself from watching too obviously as she takes a sip of her wine and says something to the guy.

"...you good?"

chris blinks and snaps back to reality, noticing that the random girl paused talking. "duh," he hums.

"you zoned out...?"

"no i didn't," chris denies it, knowing that now he has to act like he's at least interested in this girl, just in case she'll watch him. this had to be believable, so he focused on paying attention.

"let's find a table, hm?"

he unintentionally picked a perfect one. he sat across the girl and he realized, that it might look like he's focusing on the conversation and on her, but his eyes kept drifting several tables behind her on specific someone. not constantly, because that would be painfully obvious, just casual checks. small glances from time to time, too practiced to look suspicious. she didn't even look once or at least he didn't notice it, which slightly annoyed him.

so he started to think.

now she knows he's here and she saw him. what next? he can't be direct, that would be insane if he just walked over. but he's here for something, so he won't be just sitting here and listening to this girl yapping, when he's got a mission to accomplish.

so now chris sat there pretending to listen, while internally running through increasingly terrible options.

it was hard because it was a whole year of mostly hallway hey's, the occasional accidental overlap with mutual friends, quick eye contact, short acknowledgements. nothing else.

there was only one situation on her birthday, when nick stopped him to ask him something and she'd been standing beside nick, scrolling on her phone. he remembers finishing the conversation and noticing her there like an afterthought. she'd looked up because she felt him looking.

"yo."

she'd give him a nod.

chris knew it was her birthday, nick had been talking about it for days, but wishing her happy birthday felt weirdly too personal to where they were now, so instead he'd threw a joke, "don't start actin' like a millennial now. that's a big ass age you turnin'."

she'd raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting he'd say anything.

"too late."

and that was it. their biggest conversation in over twelve months.

how the fuck is he going to make her talk to him?

but the universe decided to be on his side today. he sees the guy telling her something and then standing up, moving towards the bathroom. just in time when his random 'date' had abruptly panicked over something involving lipliner and a mirror. she'd disappeared into the bathroom as well, mumbling under her nose about how horrible she probably looks right now.

this left exactly one opening.

chris sees her standing up from her table with her empty glass and head toward the bar, and before he could think about it, he was already moving too.

he walks over, casually standing right beside her and ordering two drinks. he can see with a corner of his eye, how her head turns, when she acknowledges his presence.

"is this a coincidence?" she speaks up.

this was getting way too easy. she spoke first and he didn't even have to move a finger.

her voice wasn't cold nor warm, just suspiciously unimpressed. something in his chest loosen instantly.

there it fucking was.

"you really think this highly of yourself?"

he turns to look at her and their eyes meet again. she raises her eyebrow, "i just asked a simple question."

"what do you want me to say?"

"the truth would be refreshing."

chris scoffs lightly, "ouch. you think i'd lie?"

"yes."

her response was immediate, without hesitation. he couldn't blame her.

the bartender slid her drink toward her. she grabbed it without breaking eye contact. "you tracked down my bar?" she asks.

"your bar?"

she gestures vaguely around them, "this exact one."

"crazy," he replies. "other people go outside too, y'know."

"mhm," she hums.

"what?"

"nothing."

"don't be shy, say it."

she takes a sip from her drink, ignoring what he said. "you brought backup?"

"backup?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and barely holding back a smirk. "this is how we callin' our dates now? what happened to ya?"

"you, unfortunately," she replies flatly.

bruh.

"you're welcome," he replies, taking his drinks from the bartender. "at least you know the game now."

"are you proud?" she scoffs.

"kind of."

she huffs, crossing one arm over herself lightly. she was getting slowly defensive. "you just don't change, huh?"

"what can i say?" he shrugs, so reading hands slightly. she gives him a full eye roll. oh, that was a view he liked to see.

"you're just dumb as shit."

"yeah, what else?" he smirks, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, eyes not daring to move away from her.

her eyes slightly narrow. "stop doing that face."

"what face?"

"the smug one."

"are you flirting with me right now?"

"chris."

hearing his own name from her lips after so long, makes a shiver go down his spine. he starts to feel the adrenaline rising. "so obsessed," he mutters.

"me?" her eyebrows shoot up as she points at herself with her finger. she snorts, "damn, you're hilarious."

"just admit you're happy to see me."

"if i wanted to see a clown, i'd just go to the circus."

he grins, "sweet as always." she grimaces.

chris wasn't stupid, he knew that the possiblity of something happening tonight was low, but not zero. she seemed even more stubborn than before, but he guesses it's only because they havent talked, or be around each other for so long. her mask will slip soon enough and he'll make sure of it. she's not easy, she also wasn't easy the first time, but somehow he made it and had her, so he's confident that he's capable of doing it again.

and this conversation was enough to prove that the tension is still here. it probably always has been, he just didn't pay attention.

the best thing is that he could tell she feels it too, so if he could crack through her walls once again...

"frat party not exciting enough?" she asks sarcastically, taking a sip of her drink.

"how you know 'bout it?" he plays dumb. she gives him a look. "please, it's friday. besides, i was invited."

"really?" he raises his eyebrows. "by who?"

"nate, i think. riley said he texted her or somethin'," she mumbles. "however, couldn't make it as you can see."

"you didn't miss much, it was boring as fuck."

"hm," she hums, looking skeptical, eyeing him up and down. "never thought i'd hear you say that."

"people change," he shrugs and she snorts. "what?"

"yeah, people maybe yes, but not you," she huffs. "you're literally exactly the same."

"which is...?"

"stupid," she replies instantly, making his smirk bigger. "and cocky. too confident for sure."

"you liked that, didn't you?"

"good thing you used the past tense for it."

"c'mon now," he rolls his eyes. "and you're just as stubborn and gorgeous as before."

he knew exactly what he's doing, every single word and move calculated, intentionally giving her deja vu. it's been a while since he had to even try to get a girl keep talking to him and here his mission was even more complicated. she was being defensive and skeptical, but she's still talking to him after all, which has to mean something, right?

she opened her mouth to say something, just in time, when chris noticed the girl he brought walking and talking animatedly beside her date, like they'd known each other for years.

she frowns and looks around, noticing the same thing. the girl stopped mid sentence noticing them and she clearly told the guy about it, because he looked up and not even ten seconds later, they were walking over with big smiles on their faces.

"hey, i'm back!" the girl said way too enthusiastic, waving at chris, like he was fucking blind.

"i see," he replies slowly, his eyes moving between the girl and this guy.

"oh, that's my cousin mason. how small the world is, right?"

"i haven't seen her in years," the guy— mason apparently, adds.

great. family reunion.

"that's crazy," she mutters, caught off guard, but forcing a smile.

mason smiles, "right?" he kisses her cheek.

ew.

then he looks at her and chris, still grinning. "wait, and that is....?"

"oh, that's chris!" the girl beside him says, gripping his arm. "my date!"

"oh," mason hums and nods. "and you know each other?" he asks, looking at her. this guy's face was irritating.

there was a small pause where she looked directly at chris and chris looked right back. it was almost like she was telling him to keep his mouth shut. "kind of," she replies, slowly turning her head away.

"mhm," chris smirks, taking a sip of his drink. mason smiled, "oh, this is perfect. we should just sit together."

"yes, oh my god!" the girl agreed, clapping her hands. "that'd actually be so fun!"

she looked like she wants to launch herself directly into traffic, while chris barely could hold back his grin. this is gonna be so fun.

"yeah," he nods. "let's sit."

he could feel her glare at his side profile the moment those words left his mouth, but he couldn't give a fuck less. two minutes later he was already settled down, sitting with all of them at the same table. the girl was next to him while she was sitting across from him. mason sat beside her.

for a while the cousins carried almost the entire conversation by themselves. chris leaned back comfortably, throwing a sarcastic comment every now and then, knowing it'll only annoy her. he keeps his hand rested near his 'date', just to sell the picture, even when his attention keeps drifting.

he starts to notice how clingy mason is. how he keeps leaning in close when he talks, how his arm brushes her shoulder, his hand lingers against her upper arm. it was quite normal, yeah, but he could see how irritated she gets before forcing herself to look calm. she likes physical touch, but only on her terms and he gets that. this constant clingy proximity was clearly annoying her and realizing that sent a weird flash of satisfaction through him.

at one point, mason slung an arm loosely around the back of her chair, while laughing at something, and chris could see the way she exhaled deeply. her eyes drifted toward her drink before finding his across the table, making her look even more irritated.

chris hides a grin behind his drink.

a tray of shots that mason ordered appears halfway through the conversation. "this for y'all, i'm her uber driver for tonight," he announces with a wink thrown in her direction

chris reached for it automatically at the same time as she did, which makes their hands brush briefly. barely a second, but enough to let him feel the slightest shift down there. he licks his lips and smirks seeing how fast she pulls her hand away. he was enjoying himself, while she was slowly losing her mind, and he was only about to make it worse.

"... yeah, she literally refused to let me parallel park," mason chuckles.

chris could tell yapping runs in their family, because neither mason or his cousin was shutting up. mason was talking for ten minutes straight about how amazing she is and how they met, which was so boring. chris found out they're not together— not that he's surprised— but mason makes it clear that he's serious about this, meanwhile she just smiles and nods. it's hilarious.

mason keeps going anyway, completely oblivious. "she's lowkey mean though," he says, nudging her shoulder lightly. "first week we knew each other, she roasted my music taste for an hour."

"'cus it sucked," she replies.

"see?" mason chuckles.

chris rolls the glass slowly between his fingers. "could've been worse, bro."

"try to deal with her for more than thirty minutes, man," mason replies with a laugh.

"believe me, i know."

"oh, my cousin's the same?" he jokingly asks.

chris feels her stare, but this time he doesn't look at her at all. "i meant y/n," chris replies casually.

mason raises his eyebrow, looking between them. "right, i keep forgetting you know each other," he chuckles and takes a sip of his water. "so, you two in the same class or somethin'? how did you meet actually? she never mentioned you and i know most of her friends."

"hey, let's order some more shots—" she cuts in.

"we're not friends," chris says. "we were friendly for sure though."

mason frowns, "you're not friends...—?"

"nope," chris shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. "we were fuckin', actually."

mason blinked, for the first time shutting up. the girl beside chris frowned, like she didn't understand english out of sudden. not that chris cared anyway.

his eyes were already at her, waiting for her reaction, because he knew he's gonna get one. and he was right.

she slowly turned her head towards chris, with the kind of look that suggested homicide. her hand on the glass tightened and he was pretty sure she was imagining choking him.

"oh," mason also frowns. "wait, what?"

"what i just said," chris replies, leaning back with a smirk.

she still hadn't looked away from chris. it looked like she's already burying him in her head. mason looked visibly thrown away now. he shifts slightly in his seat. "when?" he asks slowly.

"old story," she finally speaks, her voice sharp.

"maybe old, but i bet you remember though."

chris has never been happier, like right now, seeing how her cheeks grow literally red from anger. "shut the fuck up," she remarks.

"wait, so— now we're all just sitting here when you two...— oh my god," mason huffed with a grimace, clearly disgusted. chris's 'date' looked wildly invested suddenly.

"no big deal, man," he shrugs. "we're cool, right?" he asks her with a intentionally sweet voice, acting way too innocent.

the look on her face could've melted structural steel. "let's talk outside," she says, already standing up.

"wait—" mason starts.

"let me handle it," she cuts him off, looking at him now. "he clearly forgot he's not as important as he thinks he is. i'll be back."

mason nods, clearly not wanting to argue.

pussy.

she takes her purse, already moving toward the exit. chris actually grins, getting up and saluting at them, before leaving the bar. he finds her on the parking lot near her car, lighting up a cigarette.

"you drink and drive now?" he asks with obnoxiously happy tone.

"if you listened, instead of staring at me, you would've heard mason's driving my car," she replies sharply.

"doesn't have his own?" he asks sarcastically, stopping right in front of her.

"drop it," she shoots back. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"what?" he asks innocently, tilting his head.

"what the fuck was that inside?"

"just a conversation."

"why did you tell him that?"

chris exhales through his nose, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "'cus i wanted to," he says simply. "wasn't that what we were doin'?"

"could've skipped that part," she scoffs, taking a drag. "you literally show here and ruin my date— don't even try to say it was a coincidence," she doesn't let him speak. "you wouldn't leave a fucking frat party just to go out with some chick, i fucking know you. since when do you even go on dates?" she huffs, shaking her head. "ridiculous."

he almost smiles.

the corner of his mouth twitches as he tries to fight it, clearly losing it though. he actually loved saying that shit to mason, the dude's face dropping like a rock, and chris just sitting there with zero remorse. it was amazing.

"maybe i've changed," he shrugs, taking a step forward.

she lets out a bitter chuckle. "oh, sure, you changed. jesus christ, you're sick in the head."

"yeah, i am," he says simply. he closes the space between them two like it’s nothing. like he didn’t just blow up her date five minutes ago.

he stops about a foot away, close enough that the smoke from the cigarette drifts toward him, curling into his hoodie.

of course he's proud of it. she's looking at him again. angry, yes, but she's looking.

"you're fucked up."

"maybe."

"and fucking annoying."

"i guess."

"you know exactly what you're doing."

"yeah," he smiles lazily.

that answer clearly wasn’t the one she wanted, because she stared at him for a second, like she’d momentarily lost access to language. then she asks, "why?"

"why what?"

"why are you doing this?" she elaborated.

streetlight catches the frustration on her face, cigarette smoke curling between them, the same expression she used to get right before an argument turned into three hours of impossibly good sex.

is he getting there?

he tilts his head, "doing what exactly?"

"showing up," she replies. "we agreed to stop."

"m'just talkin' to you, relax," he leans against her car.

"you never just talk," she scoffs, looking at him. "what do you want?"

he shrugs, watching how she crosses her arms over her chest, all closed off and guarded. "maybe i just changed my mind."

something flickers across her face. "well," she speaks after a moment. "i didn't."

"hm, i don't believe you."

"that's literally not my problem," she snorts, looking at him like he's crazy.

he reaches out and plucks the cigarette right from her fingers, before taking a slow drag himself, eyes locked on hers the whole time before dropping the rest of it onto the ground.

"that was mine—"

"you're defensive," he mutters quietly, exhaling clouds of smoke. "'n' if it's not your problem, you're not scared i can prove you wrong, right?"

"of course not, 'cause you can't," she remarks.

"right," he nods and smirks. "what do i get if i can though?"

her eyes narrow. "try and i'll punch you in the face."

chris should probably make another stupid comment here and make her furious, but the proof he's gotten already has made him feel victorious. the chemistry was still there— he still was able to get under her skin, and that's exactly what he wanted.

so why not cross the line? luck is on his side tonight anyway, so what if he pushes it a little more?

his eyes drop to her lips.

she obviously notices. her eyes flick down as well, just for the tiniest fraction of a second before snapping back up at him, like she’s angry at herself for doing it. and that goes straight to chris's ego.

she's going to probably kill him, but who would he be if he didn't do it anyway?

he's already leaning in before common sense can catch up. he presses his lips against hers, one hand hovering over her wrist in case she actually punches him. it was barely a second, enough to feel adrenaline hit before anything else, enough to feel her freeze.

then exactly as he predicted, she shoves him back and swings. he stumbles back a little and catches her wrist automatically, shaking his head once with an annoyed little click of his tongue.

"nah."

"don't fucking 'nah' me!" her voice bounces off the empty parking lot. "are you insane?! what the actual fuck—?!"

he's just grinning, his hold on her tight. adrenaline buzzes through him so fast, it makes him feel stupidly alive. the most important thing is that once again he feels that familiar spark going through him. something he missed. he can feel his dick just sligthly pulsing, like it was coming back to life.

she looks like she's ready to commit actual violence. "ya already got one free hit last year,” he says, letting go slowly. “m'setting boundaries.”

"boundaries?!" she repeats incredulously. "you fucking kissed me?!"

"yeah."

"yeah?!"

"and you shoved me, so we're even."

"you think?!"

she looks genuinely seconds away from exploding. he knows he should probably back up and stop pushing, so he takes a step closer instead. she's breathing hard from anger, cheeks flushed, wind slightly messing up her hair, eyes darting everywhere expect his face now, which unfortunately for her gave his confidence a second wind. "no," she says instantly, once she notices the look on his face.

"no, what?" he lifts an eyebrow.

"don't start looking fucking proud of yourself."

"you're kinda late."

she takes a deep breath, clenching her fists and looking around. he wonders if she realizes she's literally trapped between him and her own car.

for the first time in over a month, something in him feels switched back on, and he loves and hates how much relief is mixed into it. loves it, because he'll get what he wants, but hates that it's her again. he's gonna deal with it later.

she catches him staring and narrows her eyes. "don't," she mumbles, voice more pleasant now, but still sharp at the edges.

she didn't want to fold. she was fighting back, but she was losing that fight and it made chris realize that he wasn't the only one missing their sex sometimes. if he wasn't so selfish, he'd feel bad. maybe he'd even give up at this point and let her be, knowing she's better off without him.

he reached out to fix her hair instead, his hand moving to cup her jaw. she looked up and their eyes met, which was unfortunate for her, because he could see the exact moment her logic turned off.

she wasn't pushing him away even when their lips brushed again.

he doesn't even know which one closed the gap this time, but it sure as hell happened. this time she was kissing him back though.

the moment he feels that, something in him snaps. all the pent up frustration pours into that kiss. his hands are rough on her waist, one sliding up to grip the back of her neck, and he tilts his head a little, like a starving man. he was indeed starved for the past month. the second she lets his tongue into her mouth, he lets out a low groan into the kiss. he knew she'd cave eventually, that the fire between them never really died, just got buried under pride.

his tongue moves teasingly at first, but then it gets more aggressive. one of his hands slides down to cup her ass through her skirt, the other wandering under her top. he wasn't even gonna hide how desperate he was. no sex for over a month, not even being able to get off, it was real nightmare for him.

her purse almost slips off, the kiss getting sloppier, he nips at her bottom lip before diving back in again.

"keys..." he mumbles against her lips, not stopping the kiss for more than a second.

"hm?"

"open that fuckin' car."

"oh."

her hands are shaky as she tries to find the keys, but the second the car door clicks open, chris is on her, pushing her firmly into the backseat. the purse and keys forgotten somewhere, breath hot and uneven between messy kisses.

he's working for it.

not in a desperate, pathetic way, but with focus. like this is a mission and he’s not leaving until the objective is met— getting laid.

his hands slide up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher as his mouth trails from her jaw down to her collarbone and then lower, teasing and making her weak. it was sure as hell working, slowly but surely, he could feel the blood flow kicks where it's needed.

he knows he’s got her the moment her legs fall open on their own, betraying her. the hitch in her breath when his lips brush higher up her thigh is like music to his ears.

his mouth lingers on her inner thigh, slowly kissing higher, letting the tension build even if he can already feel the scent of her.

something stirs below.

it's maddening how hot that is.

he looks up, hooking two fingers into the waistband of her panties and starts pulling them down. "not gonna tell me to stop?" he asks, voice husky.

"stop talking," she mumbles.

he smirks against her skin, feeling the first real throb of arousal. not a full hard on, but close enough that he feels the pressure build with every second her body betrays her— breathing faster, hips twitching slightly under his touch. once that black lace is out of sight, he spreads her thighs wider, slowly licking up the center, tasting her. then he does it again with more pressure, because, fuck, she tastes good. he almost forgot.

for a first time in a month, his body finally reacts and he feels a real boner starting to form behind his sweats. the relief is immediate.

his hands grip her hips to keep her from squirming too much, when his lips tease her clit, before gently sucking on it. the moan that leaves her lips makes him dizzy with lust.

he loses track of time, minutes blur as he works his mouth, his tongue flicks skillfully over her swollen bud. she knocks his hat off, twisting her fingers into his hair, trying to pull him closer. his nose is buried into her soaked pussy, constantly putting just the right amount of pressure against her clit, making her moan his name out loud, her thighs tensing around his head. "oh my fuck," her breath hitches, looking down and catching his eyes already watching all of her reactions. he slowly pushes two fingers inside, testing if this still works on her after a year apart, knowing that used to wreck her every damn time.

"chris, fuck—" she squirms around. he hums, curling his fingers just right, all while keeping his mouth busy on her clit with suction and teasing flicks of tongue.

he can feel his cock getting rock hard, once she starts making more sounds, sounding so desperate and annoyed. her hips jerk upward towards his face and he smirks against her, suddenly stopping his movements. he's satisfied feeling that his dick is not broken and he can finally get some action.

"are you deadass—" she cuts herself off with a small gasp, when with one smooth motion he flips her onto her stomach without effort.

its been his favorite position, lets him see everything. the curve of her ass, the way her skirt is still bunched up high on her waist and it turns him the fuck on. "i absolutely am," he mutters, voice husky with lust. he pushes his sweats down along with his boxers just enough to free himself. he takes a second to stroke once over his length, before positioning himself behind her.

he almost forgot how good a boner can feel. it was throbbing and leaking with precum. "is this not a little pathetic? y'know, that you've folded so easily?" he slowly pushes in with a loud groan. he's been missing that feeling.

"fuck off," she replies, her voice cracking as she tries to adjust to his size. he licks his lips and frowns slightly, looking at the way her pussy squezzes around him.

"ah, she missed me, didn't she?" he tilts his head to the side, realizing it's been a while for her. he can tell. the way her body resists at first, like it remembers him but isn’t sure yet, sends a rush of something primal through his veins. not just lust, but maybe even pride.

he grits his teeth, jaw flexing as he fights the urge to thrust in all the way right then. instead, he stays still, buried halfway inside her. "fuck, looks like ya hadn't had other dick as big as me, huh?" he clicks his tongue. "she squeezes me so tight—"

"you're still so fucking full of yourself," she mutters, her voice cracking when he pushes all in.

here we go.

"mhm," he actually smiles, pulling almost all the way out, just to slam back into her hard with one deep thrust. "why wouldn't i be? just look how happy she is to see me, after a whole fuckass year. c'mon now."

the sudden, hard thrust knocks the breath out of her, forehead pressing into the seat, fingers curling against the leather as he bottoms out. he likes that pissed off tension in her body, the way she's mad at herself for how good it feels after a year without him. he likes that he can still do this to her with no effort.

so he does it again, harder this time, and starts a rhythm. deep, punishing strokes that make his hips snap forward with each movement. the car rocks slightly from the force of it. he leans forward, one hand bracing beside her head, the other sliding up to tangle in her hair, lifting her head up so he could see that wrecked face. eyes closed, brows pulled together, mouth falling open. he loves that shit.

"that guy— what was his name again? mason?" he breathes between thrusts. "he doesn't know how loud you get when i fuck ya right," he angles deeper, hitting her spot just right. her back arches on instinct, a loud, unrestrained moan escapes her.

fuckkkkk.

she couldn't hold back that noise, but it ripped out of her anyway, his smirk growing wider "y'gonna come so fast, hm?" he yanks on a fistful of hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep her exposed to him. he sees how close she is in the way she bites down on that bottom lip, like it can save her. "how often for the past year you hoped for this to happen again?" he murmurs above the sound of skin slapping skin and labored breathing. "bet you touched yourself thinkin' about it."

he can feel the exact moment she clenches around him and comes with a loud moan followed by, "i literally hate you", which only spurrs him on.

he stops counting how many times she hit that high, after her third one. it was even easier for him to slide in and out when she got so creamy.

he had a different problem now though, because he should've come already, but for some reason he couldn't. he started to get frustrated.

there's no way, that after over a month, when he finally got a boner and could fuck, now he can't get a release. "fuck," his hips slam with more force now, letting go of her hair just to grip her waist, so he could go even deeper. he's moving on autopilot, but there's no buildup and he's going actually insane.

in the span of the next ten minutes, he's getting two more orgasms from her, and he almost forgot how good it used to feel when he was able to make her do all that. pride shoots right into his ego, but there's also annoyance, not at her but at himself, because even when before he'd be making a mess all over himself, literally even after seeing her like this, now he just couldn't get off.

he curses under his breath and his movements come to a stop. he lets her take a breath as he pulls out, his dick throbbing and glistening with her juices. he sits back, breathing heavily, elbows resting on his knees as he stares straight ahead at the dashboard.

it pisses him off in a way that cuts deeper than frustration, it just feels wrong, like it's not him. like he's actually broken and he hates feeling out of control like this. he feels stupid and he can't turn his head off. the pressure and strees he's been dealing with lately, all alone, it was clearly getting to him more than he'd like to admit.

he looks up when she climbs onto his lap without a word, positioning herself before sinking down onto him, still pulsing from multiple orgasms. he lets out a slow breath through his nose as she settles over him completely, his hands sliding up to grip her hips again. he kind of wondered how much she's gonna hate herself once the rush of lust is over.

he clicks his tongue and smirks, playing it cool, even when he feels like an idiot. he couldn't tell if she realized he couldn't come. "desperate for it, aren't ya?"

“stop talking," she says again, starting to roll her hips and leaning in to crash her lips against his in an aggressive kiss.

the kiss is all teeth and frustration, just two people taking out a year of unresolved tension on each other’s mouths. he kisses back just as hard, like he’s mad that he had to come crawling back to feel something again.

her hips roll against his in sharp, deliberate motions. he groans into her mouth, each move of her body sends a jolt through him. "maybe you're the one desperate here," she breaks the kiss. "you decided to fucking bother me now. just couldn't hold back, huh? you never could when it came to me."

the corner of his mouth twitches, his hips lift slightly to meet hers as she rides him, the head of his cock hitting deep inside with every movement. "wanted to see if i can still make ya weak," he mutters back, feeling a slow coil tightening in his gut when she starts talking.

hm.

"and i can still make you hard," she shoots back. "and i can make you cum all over y'self."

fuck.

he hates that her words are working, crawling under his skin, lighting a fire he can’t control. not the kind of fire you get from lust alone, but something more annoying.

he grabs her ass with one hand and yanks her down onto him in a rough grind. the kind meant to shut her up with sensation instead of conversation. his breath hitches when she bites her lip, like she's holding back a sound, and suddenly he’s not playing anymore.

in one quick move, he flips her over so he's on top again, the car door creaking as it shifts with the weight change. he starts moving fast, no rhythm but pure need. "and i can still fuckin' make you cry," he speaks, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "can still make you moan my name. make you come on my dick like a desperate slut."

"fuck you," she scoffs, hand gripping the seat for support.

"that's what we doin', baby."

he keeps provoking her to keep talking. "is it our reunion or goodbye fuck?" he asks, driving into her, no more patience left.

"a mistake fuck," she replies, voice shaking. she moans right after, dragging her nails across his back and he feels it through his shirt.

his dick twitches.

his jaw clenches as sweat starts to form on his brow, chasing that release that is just out of reach. "could be a mistake if we did it once," he mutters, looking down at her. "but this is a choice."

he's not sure if her cheeks are this red from pleasure or anger. "i wouldn't choose you even if they paid me."

"maybe not, but you'd sure as hell chose my dick."

"that's— fuckk— i can't.... stand you....—mhhhp, chris, fuck—!"

the moment she struggles to speak without making noises and clenches around him again, he feels his own release finally building rapidly, his breath coming in short bursts now. a low groan leaves him and then the familiar feeling crashes through his body for the first time in over a month. he buries himself to the hilt as thick ropes of cum burst from his tip, painting her insides. as it ripples through him, he slightly collapses over her from the intensity of his release, his body pulsing. it seems to go for a bit longer than usually, which could be pretty obvious for her to realize that it's been a while since he last orgasmed, but he completely ignores it, lost in the feeling.

finally he feels like himself again.

the car is quiet for a moment, just the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional creak as chris slowly lifts himself up and pulls out, yanking his sweats and boxers back up while she sits up, fixing her clothes.

they both look at each other at the same time by accident.

she looks away first, pretending to be busy with her skirt.

he does not like that awkwardness now. "so," he speaks, leaning back and dragging a hand through his hair. "another round when?"

she glares at him, "hopefully never."

"awh, c'mon," he clicks his tongue and smirks. "admit it's been a while since someone wrecked you this good."

"don't even say a word about this to anyone," she warns him.

"dammit, i can't brag?" he asks sarcastically, throwing his cap back onto his head.

"i'm serious."

"a'ight, m'not dumb. for real though, ya don't miss our little agreement?"

"you do?" she scoffs.

"can't lie, your pussy's like magic."

"oh god," she facepalms and opens the car door, getting out. he grins, following right after her.

"y'know, having someone who'd talk back t'you while your cock is deep in their gut is actually fun."

"please, actually stop talking," she mumbles, closing her car. he raises an eyebrow, "you goin' back there?"

she frowns, "what, like, inside?" she asks, pointing at the bar. he nods, making her snort in disbelief. "are you insane? they definitely can tell we aren't talking for, like, thirty minutes straight."

"maybe i'm a poet."

she exhales deeply, rolling her eyes and walking through the parking lot. "what, ya gonna walk?" he moves after her.

"can't really drive, can i?"

"what 'bout your car?"

"i'll pick it up tomorrow."

"i can call matt—"

"i said no one can know about this," she stops abruptly, turning around to face him and point her finger at him. "no one. not matt, not nate, not nick. especially not nick. no one."

"s'not that big of a deal."

"it is," she scoffs, walking again. "they don't need to know i have no self respect."

he raises his eyebrows, catching up to her. for him it was all fun and games anyway. "don't be so dramatic now, you had to think of it for a while, otherwise you wouldn't give in so easily."

she shrugs.

"bro, this is what we do, you want something, you take it. wanted to fuck and you did. makes us human."

"okay, shakespeare."

he smirks, narrowing his eyes, noticing that she's holding back a laugh.

okay, no, he can't be this lucky. maybe she was holding back a smile.

chris got what he wanted though and he didn't think about anything else. maybe he should have.

ৎ୭~ৎ୭~ৎ୭

[hannahsturniolo]

I’m barking at the wall rn

[hannahsturniolo]

I’m going absolutely feral over Matt’s hair HELLO????😍😍😍😍

He better be looking like that for Fridays video istg

[sturnsfavgirl]

꒰ 𓂃 where . . . you never knew all that you had been missing in your unfulfilled life until you met someone with a completely different one from yours — someone who showed you how more there is and made you fall for him in the process, even when it was the last thing you should have done.

› includes . . . angst fluff and smut , good girl x bad boy , high class x low class , infidelity (reader cheats on her boyfriend. i don’t condone this, please keep in mind this is only fiction) , religious themes , kissing and mild sexual content (non-graphic) , pet names , cursing , guilt and emotional conflict , toxic parents , insulting , dissatisfaction with life , mentions of bruises , mentions of marriage , kind of an open ending.

𖨂 word count : 11.5 k one-shot (i tried to make it as short as possible)

lau notes . . . this is not exactly based by pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine, just inspired. i love this song too much and it makes me daydream a lot which is why i created this story, which ended being much longer and complicated than i had originally thought oops. reader is called blair just so it’s easier for me to write and every line divider indicates a small time skip. credits to anyone who’s had this idea before and happy sturniolo saturday yuhu 💞⭐️🪽!!!! ps. any errors blame them on english not being my first language thanks :)

your boyfriend is perfect in every sense of the word.

he’s patient. never snaps. comes from a good family. always says the right thing.

he’s a very hard-working man. your father hired him into the family business as soon as he saw his potential. he says that everything he does is for you, for your future together.

he loves you more than anything in the world, and he makes sure to show it.

maybe if he was worse, this could all be easier. that’s the messed up part, isn’t it? that you can’t blame this on him.

“are you sure you’re fine, my love?”

julian’s voice drags you out of your thoughts. you lift your gaze from your tea cup to his worried expression, sitting in front of you at this sophisticated table inside your living room.

you have zoned out again.

he’s supposed to be waiting for your dad so they can discuss some things about some sort of meeting they have tomorrow. you can’t help but barely pay attention when he gets into business matters.

you have both been out of high school for a year — a year you asked your parents to take as sabbatical, not being excited to be an adult yet, even though your boyfriend seems to be delighted to look like he’s fifty already.

“yeah, of course.” you answer quickly, lying like you’ve learnt to do and getting up from the wooden chair.

you walk around the table until you get to him, dropping your hand on the table to lean on it. “i’m just really tired. i think i’m going to bed.”

it’s barely eight. you usually went to bed later — much, much later. but he doesn’t know that, so that’s why he just offers you a small smile.

“of course. sleep well. don’t stay up reading for too long.”

he lifts and tilts his head slightly, silently asking for a kiss.

you obey, pecking his cheek briefly. “goodnight.”

once you’re in bed, you don’t know how long you stay there, awake, staring at the ceiling and yearning for a completely different person.

(six months earlier.)

time flew by while you were browsing through the city’s library, and now you’re stuck at the bus station, with only a small umbrella you found in your dior bag to protect you from the heavy rain that’s pouring. you can’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable, since you’re never allowed on this side of town at these hours.

your personal chauffeur, victor, usually comes pick you up after your visits, but he had to go with your mother to an art gallery in some city just for a painting she had put her eye on for her next purchase.

“are you lost?”

the voice coming from behind you makes you jump. but when you turn around with your hand over your chest, you’re met with something completely different from what you expected.

a boy that’s at best three years older than you, maybe less and it’s only the dark circles under his eyes that are talking, is standing under a pub’s awning, hoodie over his head and cigarette hovering millimeters away from his mouth.

you see how he grins at your reaction before he quickly tries to hide his smile. “didn’t mean to scare you.”

you shake your head, looking away briefly to your wet boots. “i’m not lost. i’m just waiting for the bus.”

he nods, taking a drag of his cigarette while he looks at you up and down surreptitiously. you notice the tattoos showing under his wrist and the dangerous look on his eyes. “do you live here? i don’t remember seeing you before.”

you tuck your hair behind your ears. “yes. uh-…” you hesitate. “i live on the upper street.”

he grins at that. “wow.” he whistles. “you’re one of those rich girls.”

you frown. what’s that supposed to mean? “you don’t know me.” you answer, your tone annoyed.

“don’t give me that look.” he says, stepping closer but still keeping his distance. “i didn’t mean it in a bad way. if it even could be.”

you should just turn away, mind your business while you wait for the bus and stop giving him conversation. but for some reason, your body is stuck in place looking at him.

“are you hurt?” slips out of your mouth when you see his bruised knuckles, red and purple mixing with his pale skin, which you automatically regret.

he grins again, that ridiculous charming smile that he seems to make quite often, while looking at his bruises before looking back at you. “you want to patch me up?” he asks. his tone is clearly sarcastic, something you usually have a struggle to pick up on.

you raise your eyebrows, at what he just laughs, shaking his head. why is he outside of a pub if he’s hurt? shouldn’t he go to the hospital instead?

“matthew sturniolo. but everyone calls me matt.” he offers his hand to you, smiling at his own action like it’s something foreign to him.

you pause, staring at his hand, now getting wet because it’s left the awning.

“i’m blair windsor.” your own hand leaves the safety of the umbrella to shake his. a shiver runs through you at the contrast in temperatures, your eyes noticing the differences between your soft skin and painted nails and his scarred skin and chipped nails.

“nice to meet you, blair windsor.” he whispers with a smile on his face, testing the sound of your name in his mouth. you can’t help but like the way it sounds. he doesn’t recognize your last name, and if he does, he makes sure not to let it show.

you just stare at each other, until the bell from the pub rings while a group of drunk boys and girls get out. you automatically let go of matt’s hand, stepping away.

they must be his friends, you realize, because they all tap him by the shoulder as they walk by. you make sure not to make too much eye contact, grabbing your purse instinctively while they give you weird looks.

“we’re all going to nate’s.” one says when he passes next to matt. “you coming, right?” he nods at him, brushing his hair back. “i’m right behind you.”

his friend nods and walks into the rain, grabbing one of the girls by the waist while he joins the rest of the guys who were loudly singing some song you don’t recognize, and can’t help but frown at the careless behavior.

“there. your ride is coming.” he says, nodding at the bus at the end of the road while he throws the cigarette away and puts his hand into his jeans’ pockets.

you sigh, relieved. you were starting to think you were left there forever. “yeah.” but he’s still there, just staring at you. you try to think of something to say, getting nervous.

“your friends are leaving.”

he smiles. “i know. i’m just checking you don’t get kidnapped on your way in.”

you raise your eyebrows, surprised that you’re getting an impression from this boy so different from what you expected.

“right. thank you, matthew sturniolo.” you say, using his full name on purpose, while you close your umbrella.

the bus arrives and you offer him a smile, starting to turn around and trying to ignore how, for once, you don’t want to leave this side of town.

his voice sounds from just behind your ear, a whisper that makes a shiver run down your body. “i hope to see you again sometime.”

and then he’s gone, running after his friends. you stare at him, shaking your head, until the driver beeps the horn to get you back to reality.

when your boyfriend asks you if there was anything special about your day later that night, it’s the first time you remember lying to him.

sunday mornings have always been for church for as long as you can recall.

the front pew has always been reserved for your father, and, in that case, for you and your mother. you still remember how excited you used to be a few years ago when you used to wear a brand new dress every sunday, always matching your mom’s outfits.

this past year you and your family have had an addition in your pew. when you first arrived at the church with your arm interlinked with julian’s, it caused a stir among your neighbors for a few weeks, even though you have to admit mostly good things were said — after all, your family is probably the richest in town, closely followed by his. it was just a matter of time that your paths crossed in high school.

what’s definitely not your favorite part is when your father spends forever making conversation with all the important men outside the entrance, hating how he always drags you with him, having to make small talk that doesn’t involve anything but comments about how older you’ve gotten. still, you would never say that to him.

any day, if you’re not careful, he might end up being the one giving the sermon and anyone won’t have a problem with that.

julian is waiting for you at the door, his mother and yours having walked a few steps ahead due to some gossip happening this week in town. you sigh when you get to him, interlinking your arm with his while you walk through the big doors.

“what’s wrong?” he whispers once inside, walking to your respective bench.

“i don’t like talking to all those important men.” you answer, the last of your words said in a sarcastic tone.

julian shakes his head, nodding at an old couple he must know right after. “don’t say that. you’re lucky to talk to them.”

“right.” you answer, letting go of his arm. you sometimes forget he’s as big of a toady as your father.

the hour between ten and eleven o’clock drags on like any other sunday. only god knows — literally — how hard you try not to let out another yawn, entertaining yourself with any distraction you can spot. but most times it doesn’t work, earning you some scolding looks from your mother.

when it does end, the priest voicing the last “amen”, you respond with the sign of the cross while everyone starts to leave the room. you stop by the charity basket, leaving part of the weekly allowance your father gives you like you always do.

you don’t wait for anyone, enjoying the fresh air you breathe once outside. you smile when you recognize a small group of little boys and girls playing and running around. they’re the part of the group you sometimes teach catechism to when you’re needed, which was one of the conditions your parents told you to let you have a year off.

“blair!” one of them notices you, running to throw his little arms around you.

“are you guys being nice?” you run your hand through his hair, smiling at the rest of them who also walk closer.

“yes!” they all answer at the same time, a proud look on their faces. the boy leaves your legs to join his friends, adding. “we were not scolded even once.”

you smile, opening your mouth to congratulate them, but you don't get the opportunity to answer.

a sudden rush of wind caused by a group of people sprinting too close to you makes you jolt. you and all the people standing outside turn your heads at the same time, a sudden wave of nerves invading you at the sudden amount of action.

and at the end of the row — him. matt. half of his face is masked, clearly not wanting to be identified , but you still do.

you haven’t been able to get him out of your mind after that rainy day on the street, and it frustrates you that you don’t know why. you catch yourself more often than you are comfortable with replaying the interaction in your head and smiling to yourself until you realize the idiocy you’re doing.

and now he’s here, running past you like he and his group just committed some massive crime. he clearly doesn’t seem to notice you, too focused on running toward the unknown destination they have in mind.

you’re still in shock when, less than a minute later, your boyfriend comes out of nowhere, running after them. you have to double check that it’s him, but it is, going as fast as possible with the suit he wears to church.

“what are you doing, julian?” you ask as loud as possible hoping he can hear you over the loud sirens that have appeared.

“those rabble were selling drugs behind the temple!” he answers, slowing his rhythm. “the police are not going to get to them by car.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. who cares? you genuinely want to ask, but there’s too many people nearby for that to be appropriate. in what world does he think he’s catching a group of eight people? especially those types of people, and especially with how bad he’s always been at running.

he leaves again, and you shake your head while you try and look for your father. when you find him, he’s just looking forward with a proud look on his face while he makes a phone call.

you impulsively decide to run after him, ignoring your mother's calls, since you like to believe you have a better way with words than he does and maybe you can talk them into not breaking his face completely. they’re just distant silhouettes, and you start to get stressed thinking that you’re going to lose them.

after just a few minutes you’re completely alone in a street you don’t remember seeing before. your phone is in your mother’s purse, since you decided that grabbing one wouldn’t match your outfit today, and you have never regretted that decision more than now.

you turn around, your breath already starting to even out a little, to look at the path where you come from. you sigh with relief when you spot the church’s dome, but you still feel frustrated when you think about where the hell has julian gone to.

“lost again, blair?”

you jolt just as scared as the first time, but this time you do recognize the voice saying the words.

“you enjoy scaring me?” you ask matt, as you watch him rest his back on a dusty, old fence that looks like it has years of dust embedded. he’s not wearing long sleeves today, and you can see fully the tattoos covering his left arm that you only caught a glimpse of last time.

he smirks, dragging down the neck warmer that was covering his mouth while you hear him catch his breath as well. “pretty sure it’s not on me. it’s you who’s always in my spaces.”

you roll your eyes. “right, because the church is so your place.”

“we didn’t know your little ceremony was at this hour.” he answers, leaning his head back.

you’re about to ask him who doesn’t know what time church is, but you then remember the reason why you ended up here in the first place. “have you seen the guy that started running behind you?”

he lets out a full laugh in response, brushing his eyes. “fuck that guy looked stupid. he gave us a good laugh though.”

you start to get second-hand embarrassed, knowing that he did look stupid. “uh-… but have you seen him?”

“dunno. i stopped earlier than the others. i wanted a smoke and i knew we were not going to get caught.” he stops, just looking at you like he’s trying to find something. “why do you ask? is he your friend?”

when he senses your hesitation, how you open your mouth but nothing comes out, he makes another question. “or your boyfriend?”

why are you hesitating? you should have mentioned him in the very first conversation you had — but still, a small part of you was hoping he wouldn’t ask.

“he is.” you confirm, tucking your hair behind your ears. you watch his face change, the resemblance of the previous smirk disappearing.

“that’s a shame.” he says shamelessly, tutting. “he seems pretty pathetic for a woman like you.”

you don’t remember ever being flirted so obviously. not even your boyfriend has ever made you so nervous before.

you cross your arms over your chest. “you don’t know me.”

he smirks, leaning closer until you have to look up to maintain eye contact. “you have said that before. but, you’re still here. not leaving.”

your breath hitches, like you’re a kid that just got caught doing something naughty. you shake your head, but was he wrong? no, because you wouldn’t deny it with words.

he doesn’t stop, taking another step forward, and you know you should step back, but you don’t. you have never experienced someone having this kind of effect on you — definitely not someone who feels so much like trouble.

voices start to sound down the street, getting closer every second. voices that you recognize and that he doesn’t. he sighs, grabbing the neck warmer and putting it over his mouth once again. you think he’s going to leave, something that would be sensible if he doesn’t want any further problems, but before leaving, he talks again.

“if you ever get tired of pretending in that boring life of yours, come find me. i know how to actually be fun.”

he winks at you and starts to walk down the alley, torturously slow, like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. you shake your head, snapping out of what had just happened and escaping the place before your mother and her friends can discover where you’ve been and freak out.

“thank you god, there you are! you scared me, blair. don’t ever do that again! let’s go, julian’s nose has suffered a few… misfortunes from those savages. poor boy.”

“i don’t do parties, claire. you know that.”

you’re trying to get a tan in the hammocks outside your house on the first morning the UV index has risen above five, but with each passing minute it gets harder to relax with claire’s demands.

“okay, but it’s just one party.” she turns on her side, looking at you with an innocent smile on her face while she lifts one finger at you.

she’s only been seeing this new guy for a few weeks, and she already wants you to go with her to this party he’s throwing across town. and on top of everything, he’s definitely not a guy her parents would ever approve of.

“please? for your best friend?”

you shake your head, dragging your sunglasses down so you can see her more properly. you don’t even know why you’re bothering if she's going to convince you anyway.

you sigh. “what would i even tell my parents?”

“that you’re staying over at mine, duh.” she shrugs like it’s obvious, and it kind of is. her parents are almost always out of town every weekend, which would be the perfect excuse if you ever needed one. it’s a similar situation to yours, with the difference that your mother usually stays home while your father is away.

“i promise it’ll be chill.” she says, already grabbing her phone with a suspicious smile on her face.

that same afternoon you find out that your best friend’s promises mean absolutely nothing to her, because this party is the opposite of chill.

your arm is gripping claire’s so you don’t lose her,“i think we should go back!” you yell over the loud song you don’t recognize, but that’s clearly full of inappropriate lyrics.

she doesn’t stop moving forward, her head fixed straight ahead with a clear destination in mind while you keep trying to dodge all the drunk and sweaty bodies in the room. there’s one in particular who shoves you hard, but just as you turn around to see who it is, claire pulls you toward what you assume is the kitchen.

at least there you feel like you can breathe a little better. claire lets go off your arm so she can passionately kiss the boy mixing some type of liquids inside a few red cups next to some other loud guys, whose name you now know is nate. you've never understood those displays of affection between couples, least of all in public.

nate gives you a nod once he realizes you’re standing right next to claire. “so, you must be blair, right?”

you try not to stare at the piercings on his face. “i am. nice to meet you.” you say, feeling weird when his face rings a bell.

“same here. okay, what would you ladies like to drink?”

claire gives him a quick reply that you don’t recognize, nate raising his eyebrows automatically and laughing with her. you look around the table and the entire room trying to find anything that seems alcohol-free, but it turns out there’s not even ice in sight.

“and you?” you hear nate’s voice again, making you look back at them both. you hesitate, guessing that going for water will be too pathetic.

“i’ll just make it myself, thanks.”

“sure.” he nods while he goes back to asking claire about her day. you grab a transparent bottle that’s probably not the original fanta and definitely not zero but that has a radioactive orange liquid inside.

you didn’t want him to questionate why you don’t drink, because you don't even have the answer to it, just picturing your parents’ face if they ever found out is enough for you to stay away.

claire jumps in once your cup is ready. “let’s go dance or something! we didn’t come just to stand here.”

he nods. “yeah, sure. let me just find matt real quick.”

you don’t react in that moment, maybe too busy inspecting the place and the people to recognize what that name implies. it’s not until nate grabs matt by the shoulders that you freeze.

you really want to know what’s the logic behind all of this because three times is not a coincidence anymore. before you knew him, you could have promised you had never seen that man in your whole life. but now, since you first talked not that long ago, it seems like he’s everywhere, and you just hadn’t been looking enough.

“so, this is claire. claire, this is matt. my best friend.” nate says, introducing them while he points at her. claire offers him a hand wave while he nods shortly. you change your posture, knowing you’re coming next.

“and this is blair. claire’s friend.”

recognition appears on his features automatically, and you try hard to hide your own smile when you see him smirk.

“well, look who it is. in my space. again.” he teases, bringing his cup up to take a sip without stopping to look at you.

“wait.” claire barges in, a confused look on her face as well as on nate’s. “you know each other?”

“very well.”

“just barely.”

you give matt a look while he smiles like this is the funniest situation ever. “we just talked like once.” you clear up, feeling like you have to explain it to claire.

“this is the third time, actually.” he corrects. claire exchanges looks between you two with a cheeky smile, raising her eyebrows at you while you hit her leg.

“i thought you wanted to go dancing.” you tell her, wanting to leave the conversation before she starts implying things that very much didn’t happen and that won’t happen either.

you grab her by the wrist, dragging her near the floor where the speakers are, running a hand through your hair. the amount of bodies, wet all over the floor and the smell of weed is stronger here, but anything is better than your prior situation.

nate stays behind with matt, a smile on his face that matches claire’s very well. “don’t say anything. it’s not what you think.”

she raises her arms, defensive. “i didn’t say anything!”

“but you look like you want to.”

“can you blame? did you see how he looked at you? and he’s so hot, blair.” she says, pointing at her with her finger that you bring back down. “like so so hot. and he's friends with nate, which is like perfect!”

“i have julian.” you quickly answer, not denying what’s impossible to deny because matt is in fact a blessing to look at, but trying to remind yourself more than claire of your boyfriend.

the conversation dies when nate appears from behind, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle. you bring your nails to your mouth, seeing how matt is now back with the group he was before, but with the difference that his eyes are now fixed on you.

you’re clearly not having fun at the party, but you could’ve predicted that hours ago.

you don’t know why, but it’s like you can’t blend in with the group. claire tries to involve you in the conversations and games they’re doing, but it all feels forced coming from you. even the things they talk about are issues you have no comment or knowledge about.

the moment that nate offers a joint to claire, and you sense that the only reason she’s hesitating is because of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, you decide to tell her that you need to go to the toilet.

“do you want me to go with you?” she offers, already leaning away a little from nate.

“no. don’t worry.” you offer her what you think is a reassuring smile and start to leave, walking away from the group.

you wish you could just be like that — like her — but you can’t

you realise too late that you have no idea where the bathroom is, not having anyone around you that you know and that you could ask for help. there isn’t even a second floor, so you end up choosing the emptiest spot to go.

you pull out your phone, thanking god when there are no messages from your mother. you seriously consider calling julian, knowing he would complain and call you out for coming to a place like this, but that he would end up showing up. but honestly, is being with him better than this place?

you sigh, leaning against the wall and going down until you're seated on the floor, dropping your almost empty cup on top of it. your phone is your last escape from boredom, hoping that time will pass faster using it.

“why are you here alone?”

this time he doesn’t scare you, too much out of it. “just bored.” you answer, looking up to spot matt leaning against the wall that your back is resting on.

“bored? at a party?” he shakes his head.

you shrug while he walks to the wall in front of you, sitting as well to match your position.

“why are you here then?” you ask back, turning off your phone.

“i was looking for you.” he answers, leaning his head against the wall, straight to the point.

you roll your eyes a second too late, trying to hide how that makes your chest flutter. you fidget with your cup, not sure what to say.

“what are you drinking?” he wonders, looking at your cup.

you cross your legs, sitting straighter. “uh, fanta.”

“with…?” he asks, wanting you to elaborate.

you finish the drink. “uh, fanta?”

“right.” he answers, not asking any questions about why you are not drinking but smiling like he knows something you don’t.

“what about you?” you say, spotting his empty hands.

he shakes his head. “nah. got work tomorrow morning.” he answers, and your eyes widen. you didn’t know of anyone who worked on the weekends.

“work?”

“right, we’re still in the getting to know each other phase.” he cracks his knuckles, and you can’t help but stare stupidly at the rings around his fingers. “i work at a garage. and at a bar. sometimes in constructions.” he shrugs. “anywhere someone needs me, really.”

“right. that’s… nice.” that’s the first thing that leaves your mouth, and you quickly kick yourself for such a stupid answer. you have no idea how he can do that, spending most of the time bored in your house yourself. “so that’s also why you’re not surrounded by hot girls?”

he lets out a full laugh, running a hand through his hair. “who says i’m not surrounded by hot girls?”

you throw your now empty cup at him, but it’s no use because he grabs it without any effort. “shut up.” you settle for words instead.

he raises his hands with a smirk, dropping the cup back to the floor. “so, boyfriend didn’t come?”

you shake your head, sighing. you didn’t even ask him if he wanted to, but it was clear he wouldn’t have come. you would be lying if you said you knew where he was right this second.

“tell me something about yourself.” he requests suddenly, changing the topic completely.

“like what?” you ask, not sure what aspects of your life would be interesting for someone like him.

“anything. are you working?”

“not really.”

“studying then?”

“nope.”

he opens more his eyes, clearly surprised by your answer. “you seem like the type to go to college.”

you close your eyes, sighing and wondering how much you can say without saying too much. “i really liked teaching. but uh… my parents said it was useless? that there was no option other than getting into the family business, least of all into teaching, so.” you shrug, expressing indifference when in reality it had been a big amount of long discussions between you and your parents, julian saying it would complicate your life too much.

“that’s bullshit.” he hissed, shaking his head. “you should study whatever you want.”

“it’s fine.” you answered, hoping to calm his angry tone. it wasn’t fine, considering that you've been questioning your whole life since then, but there was not much more you could do. it’s better to be on your parents’ side of everything, and that’s something you understood over time.

he clicks his tongue, looking away lost in thought until he drags himself on the floor so he’s closer to you.

“it’s final. i’m making you live life.”

you laugh at the random statement, biting your lip. “what?”

“you heard me.” he says, his tone giving no room for an argument. “no way you’re wasting your life like that.”

“how would you even do that?” you ask, feeding into his imaginary plan.

“i’ll take you places that have nothing to do with churches or businesses. and you'll actually have fun, no more of this sitting on floors and looking depressed.”

“i don’t look depressed.”

“fine, blair.” he says, brushing his hands together. “so, deal? are we friends?”

friends. the word sounded so wrong but right at the same time. maybe if you labeled this weird thing as friends, you wouldn’t feel so bad.

“okay. we’re friends.”

“atta girl.” he whispers. “come on. give me your number.”

it’s a few days later when you see matt’s name again, and it’s not because he decided to text you.

when you came home after julian had taken you out for lunch, you heard your father talking on the phone, a very common occurrence which you don’t give much thought to.

but when you’re taking your hat off and leaving your purse on the table, you hear his surname — sturniolo — loud and clear, since your father is not known for being a quiet soul.

you hurry to the door outside his office room, gluing your ear to try and eavesdrop as much as possible. trough the faltering words, you could swear he’s talking about the incident with julian the other day after church.

to your bad luck, he decides right that second to leave the room, almost making you fall as he opens the door. his face is full of confusion when he gets out and sees you there, ending the phone call while you stand as still as you can.

“blair.” he calls once he turns off his phone. “what are you doing?”

“i’m just, uh…” you tuck your hair behind your ears. “looking for linda.” linda was your maid, and an awful excuse since you and her didn’t really talk to each other.

suspicion doesn’t leave your father’s face, crossing his arms. “she left two hours ago.”

“right.” you nod, cursing yourself for such a stupid excuse. “i just needed one of my shirts ironed. i’ll ask tomorrow.”

he nods then, looking away from you. you’ve always felt like your father has a hard time having ordinary conversations with you alone, just like right now, where he’s not looking at you and his mouth opens as if to say something but then closes it again. he ends up murmuring something about a call he has to make, walking down the hallway.

but right now you’re thankful, because it makes it able to enter his office without any difficulty. you run to his long desk, pulling your hair out of your face to search for any signs about why exactly he had mentioned matt’s name.

soon enough, you find a folder you hadn’t seen before and that doesn’t contain hundreds of numbers like the others. this one has records inside. records of matt’s friends and the ones who were that day after church. now your father is in law enforcement?

you look back, checking that your father is nowhere near, and then you start to flip through the papers until you find the one you’re looking for.

matt’s record is probably the emptiest one, not many offenses listed other than some illegal boxing matches and a cute picture of him a few years younger which makes you smile. it does help you know some more information about him. he’s twenty one. both his parents are alive. he’s an only child. he didn’t complete high school. and that’s about it, because some distant noise makes you panic.

you rush to leave everything in the right place, with the exception of matt’s record. if he hasn’t done anything, there’s no issue if you keep the paper, right? at least that’s what you believe as you fold it and put it inside your pocket.

when the sound doesn’t cease, you put the folder back in place. before you turn around, you can spot a photo that has fallen down from the table. you curse softly, picking it up. confusion invades you when the photo shows a middle-aged woman you’re sure you have never seen before. but you don’t have much time to question it, leaving it on the table as you rush back to your room.

“you can’t be at my window!” you hiss, not stopping to look back at your door and at the boy who’s climbing up your ledge. you have never complained about not having locks in your room more than this precise moment.

he smirks. “what? i told you i was coming.”

and he did, in this back-and-forth texting you’ve been doing for a few days now. what you didn’t expect was for him to appear in your window and give you a heart attack while you were finishing your makeup.

you really debated whether you should make an excuse and decline the offer. texting was one thing, but you didn’t trust yourself with what could happen if you spent time with him alone. what you were doing was wrong, but the feeling he brought you was louder than the guilt.

you sigh while you rush to step back, hurrying him inside your room. he walks around, giving himself a tour, whistling dramatically until his eyes land on you, which widen slightly.

“no way you’re going dressed like that.”

you cross your arms. “excuse me?” you had spent too much time trying to pick something that you liked just for him to make that comment.

“wait, no. you look beautiful. sexy as hell, blair.” he rushes to compliment, looking you up and down. “but i don’t think it’s the right option for the kind of place we’re going to.”

you blush, understanding what he means when you look down at your colorful, designer clothes. “what do i wear then?” you ask, almost shy.

“this your wardrobe?” he opens the heavy doors without a single care for the furniture, acting just like he owns the place. he grips his chin while he hums, looking around the packed space trying to find something that satisfies him.

he clearly goes for the clothes you’ve worn the least — some low rise jeans with a black tank top, clothes you’re almost completely sure that claire made you buy. he lifts them up toward you with a smirk on his face. “are these good?”

you roll your eyes but still grab it. if you’re doing this, you might as well do it completely. ”turn around.”

after too much non-stop teasing from matt, you’re finally walking down the dark streets to his destination in mind, him deciding that you two should walk for the full experience.

you beg him around ten times to tell you where you’re going, but he refuses to give the answer. there’s not a single second of silence while you walk, matt finding every stupid question that exists while he tries to act like his hand brushing yours is accidental. you don’t even judge the space you have around you like you usually would, just focused on him.

“here it is.” he announces, looking at the small restaurant with a smile on his face. he softly touches your waist when he guides you in. “come on.”

the place feels alive, like it’s just a big family gathering. there’s music sounding at the perfect volume, some couples dancing, others playing bingo or chatting with the waiters while the rest just stick to eating food that looks extremely greasy.

“my boy!” one man yells, leaving his place behind the counter to come greet him. “you don’t work today. what are you doing here, man?”

“we just came to have dinner.” he answers, meeting his handshake. you stand right next to him, feeling the warmth of the man when he offers you a smile too.

“of course. please go sit.”

you thank him, following to get further inside the establishment. matt goes directly to one of the tables at the corner, the ones isolated enough for you to feel comfortable.

he pulls out one of the plastic chairs and indicates for you to sit. you can’t help but laugh at the stupidity. “ladies first.”

the worn paper menu is full of dishes you don’t usually eat. eating healthy was one of your mother's obsessions. these are cheaper and more filling, the images showing plates with no empty space at all. you want to try them all, but at the same time, just looking at them makes your stomach hurt.

“what are you having?” matt asks, his menu untouched like he’s sure about his decision.

you pout a little. “i don’t know.”

he smiles, pointing at one of the titles. “this is what i have. that burger has every single ingredient you can imagine and extra fries.” he explains, lifting his eyebrows.

“okay. i’ll have that too.” you say, not caring much about the decision but wanting to satisfy him.

he orders for the both of you, being polite as ever. you rest back on your chair, admiring the view and wondering what the fuck are you doing with your life.

your stomach growls when the plate arrives, thanking the waiter while matt steals a fry from you. you give him a scolding look, grabbing your burger to give it a try. you make a sound of pleasure when it reaches your mouth, widening your eyes.

he laughs, shaking his head. “so, how was the princess allowed out of her tower tonight?”

“i didn’t say anything.” you answer, taking a sip of the beer you had decided to order for the first time. “they don’t have any reason to go into my room.”

about the beer, you can’t say it tastes as good, making a grimace while you swallow. you wonder how people can get drunk off of this disgusting drink, but you still take a second one. matt shakily laughs at your face, rubbing his eyes.

“wow. i’m making you a rebel. you realize?” he smirks, his feet suddenly brushing yours under the table. an innocent act that for you feels anything but. “a beer and a burger. what a bad influence.”

you don’t answer, continuing to fill your stomach. you had never imagined that lying to your parents wouldn’t feel so bad.

“you have something there.” he points at your mouth with his pinky.

“what?” you ask loudly like it’s the worst tragedy ever, rushing to grab a napkin but realizing there are not any in the table. “where, matt?”

“there in the right corner… nevermind. stay still.”

he leans in to you on the table, bringing his hand closer. you obey, staying still, your eyes following his moment. your breath hitches slightly when his thumb wipes a small drop of sauce tortuously slow, just short of touching your lips.

just as you think he’s going to pull back and pretend this was normal, his thumb moves to his mouth, cleaning it with his tongue, maintaining eye contact with you every second. you hate that you can feel your cheeks heating up, your mouth falling open slightly.

the moment is over as unexpectedly as it started, matt changing the topic completely. he seems unaffected, even though you can see the faint smile on his face, while you struggle to act like nothing happened inside of you.

“let’s go dance.” matt randomly announces once you’ve both finished, offering his hand to you.

“what?” you ask, wondering if matt has been replaced for another person. “i don’t dance.”

he tilts his head. “come on, don’t be boring. i’ll let you know i’m a great dancer.” you look at the middle of the room, where some couples are dancing to a slow song, and you would say they look embarrassing, but the truth is no one is even looking at them.

you sigh like this is the worst moment of your life, and he smiles victoriously when you take his hand. once you make it in between the couples, he stands in front of you while his hands don’t waste time to guide yours over his shoulders.

“you’re tense.”

“i’m not.”

“you look like it.”

his hands move to your waist, slowly, in case you would ask him to back off. but you don’t. instead, you try to loosen up, feeling the music and swaying along with his body. you bite your lip, resting your head on his chest when the moment starts to feel too intimidating. his hands grasp your waist more surely, while yours move to behind his neck.

when the song ends and you pull back, his face closer than you remembered, his lips right there. you know he’s thinking about it too in the way he can’t stop his eyes from glancing down, but he won’t make the move and you know it. you’re the one that has something to lose here.

and you won’t — at least right now, even though you don’t lack the desire. but you’re already used to not doing what you truly want, so even if it breaks your heart a little, you step back, offering him a small smile.

a small part of you is worried that he won’t want anything to do with you now, that maybe you were just a challenge he didn’t win. but matt’s attitude doesn’t change the rest of the night you’re home again, and that pleasantly surprises you.

julian has never been a passionate person, so that’s why the way he’s making out with your neck right now feels so forced.

you two never do more than kissing. mostly his decision, since the very few times you might have hinted at something more in the slightest — which hasn’t happened in a long time, by the way. the reason having a name. — he was a second away from calling you the devil, saying that maybe it would be even better if you two didn’t even kiss to reduce the temptations.

now you’re both sitting on the edge of your bed, still as a statue, not a single hand brushing the other’s body. he’s just… there. on your neck. not even biting. his lips don’t make you feel anything but discomfort.

“you’re acting weird lately.” he mutters after what felt like forever, breathing hard.

“what do you mean?” you ask innocently, turning your head to look at him.

“you don’t even kiss me anymore.” he complains like a kid, running a hand over his gelled hair.

you close your mouth, unsure of what to say. how were you supposed to kiss him if even when he’s just doing this you can only imagine matt doing it instead? “that’s not true.”

he huffs. “right. then kiss me.”

you sigh a little, considering for a second saying no but knowing that would cause something you’re not ready for. you pinch your leg hard with your fingers while you press forward, giving him a kiss with no tongue, but long enough to keep him satisfied.

matt. matt. matt.

his expression has changed when you pull back, not looking that defensive anymore. he sighs, placing his hand on your shoulder like you’re just one of his friends. “we will do anything we want once we finally get married. you know that, right?”

you nod, your body leaning back without you telling it to. you hate that phrase more than you can express.

“we’re almost twenty. our parents got married at that age.”

you hope your face isn’t showing it, but you’re getting more disgusted the more he adds. twenty is nothing. you haven’t lived. you don’t want to end up like your mother.

why is it getting harder to breathe?

he’s saying something else about already asking your parents what they think, places he likes for honeymoons, how good it would do to his place at the business. you’re not saying much, just a few nods and small comments, but he doesn’t seem to mind, happy to do all the talking.

you used to live for the idea of getting married young and giving julian as many kids as he wanted. now, when it actually becomes real, it feels like your heart is dying and you don’t know if it'll ruin your life more to say yes or to say no. can you even say no, when this has always been planned?

once julian leaves your room, you automatically start to tear up, wishing you could feel guilty because of what you've been doing with matt and because of what you might end up doing. but you won’t feel guilty for choosing yourself for once over this prison life you’re living in for everyone else.

not texting matt to warn him you were going to his place was just an instinct, since the number of times you’ve met again after the first one have always been him initiating it, mostly picking you up at your house, but your mind was clouded and he was the only person appearing in it.

you make victor drive you there, not even caring about the consequences. you know you are walking on thin ice and that it is just a matter of time before someone opens their mouth, but for some reason you don’t seem to mind.

your mind wanders as you think about everything you’ve experienced with him over the last couple of weeks. taking you to fireworks, a boxing match of one of his friends, the many late night drives in his car, some double dates with claire and nate. things a married woman couldn’t do.

you knock on his door after victor’s car is out of sight, since you find his bell broken. right now your only wish is that it’s not his mother or father who opens the door.

soon enough, he appears behind the door, shirtless and with half closed eyes that seem to open automatically when he recognizes it’s you standing outside his home.

“what… everything okay?” it’s the first thing he asks, his tone clearly worried while he opens the door completely.

“can i come in?” you respond, hugging yourself. he doesn’t hesitate to move to the side, letting you in.

you’ve been curious about what matt’s home looks like before, but right now you’re not taking advantage of the situation, just walking forward until you find an open door that you guess is his room. he follows you inside close behind and closes the door, resting his back on it. it’s clear he looks worried, dragging a hand through his hair to wake himself up.

“sorry i woke you up.” you whisper. you look around just to keep yourself occupied, but you’re not actually taking anything in. it’s small and messy, sure, but it feels a lot like matt and that’s what you need right now.

“hey.” he says, lifting his hand when he walks right in front of you, brushing your cheek and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “talk to me.”

you look up at him. “can you just kiss me?”

he gulps, dragging his hand down until the side of your neck. he hesitates, opening and then closing his mouth, but when he finds something in your eyes, he closes the gap.

his kiss is gentle, a soft move of his lips against yours that ground you to this moment, to him, with his hand brushing your face. he doesn’t take anything from you, just lets you lead and accepts what you decide to give him.

but you’re quick to heat it up, quickly finding his tongue with your own. he grows against your mouth, getting more desperate, and you raise your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer.

“blair.” he whispers against your mouth, completely breathless. “what’s wrong?”

you shake your head, resting your forehead against his. you can feel the emotion getting to you again, and you hate it. “i don’t want to get married.” your voice breaks on the last word.

somehow, he seems to understand what you’re not explaining. his hands lose their grip against your face, rubbing your cheeks softly. “fuck, baby.”

“please.” you whisper, and you might not be sure what you’re begging for, but he takes it as a sign to kiss you again.

you walk backwards to the bed, laying down while matt follows you on top, your lips never disconnecting. you never knew kisses could make you feel like this, something funny happening in your stomach while you just want to be closer and closer to him.

you whine when his hips press you down the bed, your hands moving to scratch his shirtless back, encouraging his movements. any other thought disappears from your brain, completely focused on this moment.

he starts to trail sloppy kisses further down your neck, to every exposed piece of skin he can find. your back arches slightly from the bed, your hands grabbing his hair. he pulls back after a while, checking your face for any signs of discomfort.

you start to grab the straps of your shirt, nervously, pulling them down so he can see all of you.

“hey.” he says, giving a slow kiss to your forehead. “wait. i need to ask you something.” you nod, dropping your hands to grab the sheets instead.

“you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” he looks down to your body under his, brushing a hand through his hair. “have you… ever done this? you know what i mean.”

you guessed the question was coming, but it doesn’t make it less embarrassing. it’s clear that matt has a lot of practice, and if you can tell just from the way he kisses, you don’t want to know the rest. you shake your head, looking away briefly.

“okay. that’s fine. and you…” he wets his lips, softly turning your head back at him. “you want this? truly want this? not just a… revenge plan or something? because i wouldn’t stand it if you ever regretted this, baby.”

“i want this.” you say, voice steady, the nickname making you melt. it was everything you had been thinking about for weeks, and you wish he would skip this conversation.

“you lead. you say the word, and we stop.” you can literally feel how much he’s aching for it, the proof pressing against your thigh, but he’s still taking the time to make sure you’re on the same page.

“i will.” you whisper, hiding your nerves by starting to kiss his chest.

he undresses you slowly, making sure not to leave any parts of your body untouched or not kissed. you’re a mess under him, getting more nervous and turned on by the minute. he guides you, encouraging you on what to do and wanting feedback about how each of his movements feels.

he swallows your moans when he finally opens you, first with one finger, then two, the new sensations making your head spin. you let out short breaths against his ear, almost making him leak in his boxers.

when he finally takes you, condom on, it’s carefully, his hands rubbing your waist gently and his lips whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful you are. when you reassure him it doesn’t hurt, your forehead pressed against his, he starts to pull back and then in again, torturously slow, your hands gripping his tattooed biceps hard enough that you’re sure you’re leaving marks.

even when his rhythm speeds up by the minute, your hips lifting to meet him, his expression doesn’t change from adoration, his hand brushing your hair out of your face before he joins it with yours beside your head.

later, once he has cleaned you up and you’re resting on his chest with only his t-shirt on, exhausted, you're speechless, listening to his heartbeat.

“it has never felt like that for me.” he whispers, his hand tracing idle circles against your skin.

“so, i’m kind of your first too?” you look up, smiling at him.

“you’re everything.”

you wake up disoriented, in a bed that’s not yours but that feels familiar. when you lazily blink at the body beside you giving you warmth, you remember everything that happened the night before.

it’s too early to freak out, so you just stick to snuggling deeper into his chest and sighing softly when you feel the slight soreness in your body. you’ll have time to reconsider your whole life later. now, you can stick to admiring matt’s soft features when asleep.

matt wakes up shortly after sensing your movements. he yawns, hiding his face in your hair. “morning.” he whispers, voice hoarse from sleep. “did you sleep okay?”

“mhm.” you brush your hand against his chest. “what time is it?”

he growls, sitting up straighter to grab his phone on the nightstand. “almost eleven. we slept in.”

you just hum, staying still in your position thinking about nothing until your brain suddenly wakes up.

“oh no no. please no.” you sit abruptly, searching for your phone over the floor. once you find it, your heart stops.

your lock screen shows the word sunday, church starting in five minutes. when you look down, you have ten missed phone calls from claire. eight from your mother. five from julian. one from your father.

“fuck. fuck.” you say, dragging your hair back. you must still be asleep and all of this has to be a nightmare

“hey. what’s going on? i don’t think i have ever heard you curse that much.” matt jokes, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. his hand moves to rest on your thigh, brushing it softly.

“i fucked up. too bad.” you step away to gather all your clothes, shaking as you get dressed in record time.

“breathe.” matt says, getting up to look down at you while he cups your cheeks. you stop buckling your jeans, trying to do as he says. “you’re going to be just fine.”

“you don’t know them. they’re killing me, matt.” you mumble. you even had one call from your father who never calls you.

“no one is doing anything to you, okay?” he says, his hands brushing your hair to get it in place. “i would be more worried about how they’re going to handle their own shit.”

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up at him.

“i’ve never experienced finding out that my father is cheating on my mother, but i wouldn’t know what to do. it must be hard. but i’m here for you, blair.”

if last time your heart stopped, now it just explodes. you’re completely lost, stepping back from him. “are you joking, matt? do you think this is a time to joke?”

it’s his turn to get confused now, crossing his arms over his chest. “that’s why you came last night, isn’t it? you found out your father was cheating on your mother. i was about to go to your house and tell you last night, but i didn’t know how.”

“oh my god. why do you keep saying that?” you start to grow desperate, fully dressed now. “no! that’s not why i came last night!”

his expression drops, wetting his lips while taking a deep breath. “blair i-… i saw your father with another woman tuesday night. i was working and… i’m so sorry. i thought you knew.”

“now you didn’t.” you start tearing up, not letting him closer to you when he tries to. “don’t lie to me.”

“i’m not. blair, i swear on everything.” his tone is desperate, giving more details to make you believe him. “she was a few years younger. blonde. short clothes.”

“he was probably working.” you start to excuse him, feeling the tears fall down because you know it makes total sense. “he’s in meetings all the time. that was it.”

“she was sitting on top of him. they weren’t talking, blair. they were kissing.”

you shake your head, grabbing your shoes and starting to head for the door. matt tries to grab your wrist to prevent you from leaving like this, but you free yourself.

“don’t. don’t talk to me ever again.” you know you don’t mean it, but there’s too much going on that you can’t stop from taking it out on him. “i should have never done this. you’re trying to ruin my life.”

“are you serious?” you can sense how his patience starts to run out, getting more pissed. “i’ve only thought about you for months now. fuck, i’m in love with you, blair. why would i make this up?”

you close your eyes. can you be in love with two people at the same time? definitely no, because since you met matt, you have realized that what you felt for julian wasn’t even something close to appreciation. being with him was a routine, meanwhile being with matt was exciting.

but you’re still a coward that can’t have this conversation right now, so you reach for the handle of his door as you escape.

you run all the way from his house to the church, wiping your tears every few steps. when you get there, breathless, unfortunately everyone is already walking out. you stay still on the stairs, bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

you hide from julian as he walks out, trying to find claire. as you spot her, you try to get to her, but your mother comes out of nowhere, finding you first.

her face is full of anger and disappointment. she grabs you by the arm, hard, starting to drag you away. “god, you look like a mess. to the car, now.” she hisses, not wanting anyone to hear her.

that car drive is the most uncomfortable and endless experience of your life. victor and your father are sitting in the front, while you and your mother are dead silent in the back. you know what you’re heading into, but right now they’re acting like you don’t exist.

when you walk through the front door you try to go directly to your room, just in case you can get away from it.

“blair.” you father's voice echoes from the living room, tone serious.

you close your eyes, turning around knowing you have no other option. your dad is seated while your mother is standing up, fingers in her mouth, both of their heads glance up at you when you appear through the door.

“where were you?” your mother is always the one to start asking the questions.

“claire’s.” you lean against the doorframe, trying to seem relaxed.

“then why was she at church and you weren’t?”

“i fell asleep.”

“do you think we’re stupid?” your father steps in, growling. your mother rushes to massage his shoulders. it makes you sick to look at his face at this moment.

“we don’t know what’s up with you lately, blair. you’re less at home, you’re more mouthy, even your clothes are changing.” your mother gestures to you up and down, like you’re living proof to her words.

“oh, i know what’s up with her.” your father laughs sarcastically, shaking his head.

“what’s up with me?” you ask, voice sharp, stepping closer to them.

“you tell me. where were you?”

“i don’t know.” you answer, not caring about anything at the moment. you had never been one to confront your parents, so yeah, maybe you had changed, but maybe you also needed that change. “if you know my life so well, where was i?”

pure rage flashes through your father’s eyes, his hands gripping the table hard enough to turn his fingers red. “that disgusting sturniolo boy’s bed.” your mother lets out a loud gasp, widening her eyes.

your heart quickens up at the correcte guess. you don’t even want to know why he knows that.

“you’re not answering me now? come on.” he gets up from the chair, causing you to take a step back. “you had a good man who was willing to marry you, make you succeed in your only task in life, and you had to ruin it by being a slut.”

his words make you want to vomit, feeling like the kid you once were again who could be scolded by his father for everything and stay silent. but you’re not a kid anymore.

“what were you doing tuesday night, father?”

the room falls silent, your father's expression changing drastically. your mother looks confused, looking between you two. “he had a meeting, blair. why are you changing the subject?”

“a meeting? right.” you say, taking a seat in front of him and feeling amazing to control the situation now. “how was the meeting — in a pub, with a blonde young woman sitting on top of you?”

your father slams the table, but he doesn’t scare you, not anymore. “out of my house. now.”

“excuse me?”

“i said, out of my house!” you father yells, gripping his hair. your mother is quick to interrupt, not feeling comfortable with the show. “wait a minute, dear. we can forget all of this happened! blair will go back to julian and we can-…”

“i’m not going back to julian.” you don’t give her the opportunity to finish, getting back up. “do you not care that he goes with other women?”

she opens her mouth, then closes it again. you look away from her, not being able to stand the situation. if he didn’t want you here, you would be happy to leave.

“didn’t you hear me?” your father repeats. “go!”

you do add he says just so you don’t have to hear his insufferable voice again. you had hoped, deep down, that your mother would choose you for once. but that is not the case, and you can hear your mother trying to calm your father down when you sprint upstairs.

you sob while you take your suitcase from under your bed, starting to throw your clothes inside like a maniac. your whole life is collapsing, but there’s a part of you that’s glad. you don’t know what has life in store for you from now on, but you’re sure it will have nothing to do with this.

(six months later.)

you're staring at the leaves falling from the tree outside your dorm, phone resting in your hand with matt’s contact opened as you hesitate about what to do.

that night, you were welcomed by your grandparents from your mother’s side of the family after you explained what had happened, the ones you rarely saw because of their conflicts with your father.

what you truly wanted was to go to matt’s again, but you also needed to learn your lesson that matt wasn’t just an escape you could use if things went wrong. he probably never wanted to see you again, after what you had said.

and now, you’re studying the career you always wanted, thanks to the support of your grandparents, and you could finally say for once in your life that you felt happy. completed. almost, at least.

your roommate was amazing. your mother still called occasionally, and you didn’t know how you felt about it. claire had come to visit you a few days ago, and you hadn’t been able to contain yourself from asking her about matt.

it’s like something was missing, and you were sure that something was him. you thought that maybe if you didn’t see him for a while you would grow out of it, but you didn’t. the only thing that grew with each passing day was your need to talk to him and know how he was doing.

talking with claire about him was just the last straw. if he hadn’t called you maybe it was because he didn’t want to talk to you. but you hadn’t called him either, and you did want to talk to him.

you weren’t sure if you still had the right, but you did anyway in a rush of adrenaline, dropping the phone on the bed and automatically biting your nails.

it rings one. then twice. and at the third it happens.

“blair?” matt’s voice echoes from the speakers of your phone and you drop on the sheets at the sound.

“sorry.” why are you apologizing? “hi.”

you hear his exhales from the other side, and you can recognize that he’s smoking. “how… are you?”

“i’m good. really good.” you bring your hand to your chest. “what about you?”

“same as always.” he says, trying to seem normal, but you sense how his tone is shaking slightly. “uh… claire told me you’re living with your grandparents.”

“i was.” you answer, nodding even though he can’t see you. “now i’m at college.”

“you are?” his tone is louder, genuine surprise showing on his tone. “you should have told me. that’s amazing, blair.”

you close your eyes, a smile breaking across your face. “i-… i thought about it but i-… i don’t know. maybe you wouldn’t have picked up.”

“i would have.” he answers, no hesitation. there’s a small silence after, you breathing in his words.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, matt.” you start to vent, saying everything you have been wanting to. “you were right, and i was wrong, and i shouldn’t have said what i did.”

“it’s okay.” he reassures you in that tone he keeps only for you. “i’m not mad.”

“then why didn’t you… call?”

“you needed to find yourself. make your mind about what you wanted. and i’m proud to see that you did that.” he explains, and you fall for him all over again at the words. you sigh, bringing your phone closer to your ear. you wonder if this conversation is meaning the same to him as it is to you.

you’re relieved to know he doesn’t hate you, but how much does that mean? you’re sure you want him back in your life, but maybe he doesn’t want you back in his. but you’re tired of games, so you just go straight for it.

“would you… would you come over sometime? i could show you this place.” you invite him, wanting to have something more from him that isn’t just his voice over a device. “if you don’t have someone, of course.” you add before ending, just in case.

“i don’t have anyone.” he answers, and you could swear you're hearing the smile in his voice. “i would love to. i’ve missed you.”

“okay. that’s… that’s nice.” you stutter a little after his honest words, relieved. “i… missed you too, matt.”

there’s some distant noise on his side, followed by his voice. “i have to leave you. my break is over. but please text me the details, okay?”

“i will. goodbye, matt.” you say, feeling disappointed that you have to end the conversation but excited about his upcoming visit. you can’t help but hide your face in your hands as he hangs up, feeling like maybe this was the time for both of you to get the ending that you deserved.

lau notes . . . i ended up lowkey not liking this buuut 🤷🏼‍♀️ idk what it is but i spent too much time writing it not to post :) i’ll lock in with my aus now thank you for reading 💝💗💞💘!

[onlytiktoks]

[slvtf0rchr1s]

oh that poor baby :((( this is actually sickening how can ANYONE let stuff like this happen??? i feel ill.

[nessabarrettlover101]

I love nessa so much!

[matts-girlfriend]

Cut The Cameras - Matt Sturniolo

Youtuber!Matt and Videographer!Reader

Chapter 4

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

warning this series will contain substance abuse, angst, arguing, tension, mentions of sex, smut, this is a warning for all chapters.

summary ~ When Y/N finds out her boyfriend of three years is cheating—with the girlfriend of the one person she can’t stand the most, Matt everything falls apart. That is, until Chris suggests the unthinkable, a PR relationship. But with cameras rolling, emotions spiraling, and lines blurring, pretending might just hurt more than the heartbreak.

Three days felt like a lifetime when you were counting the silence.

Not the loud kind — not screaming or fighting or begging. The quiet that settled in your bones. The kind that followed you from room to room, crawled into your chest at night, and pressed down until breathing felt like work.

Three days since the photos went public.

Three days since strangers decided she was someone’s girlfriend.

Three days since her phone stopped lighting up altogether.

Josh hadn’t said a word.

No apology.

No excuse.

No attempt to rewrite the ending.

Nothing.

At first, she told herself it was shock. That he was processing. That he’d reach out when he figured out what to say. That five years didn’t just evaporate overnight.

But the hours kept passing. Morning turned into night. Night into morning. And still nothing.

That was the part that hurt the most.

Not the cheating. Not even the humiliation. It was the ease with which he let her go. Like she’d been something he’d already packed away.

The triplets’ house felt too loud and too quiet all at once.

Cameras were set up. Lights were on. Nick paced back and forth with a coffee he’d already reheated twice. Chris was doing anything but what he was supposed to do. Normal chaos. Familiar chaos.

Y/N stood behind the camera, hands steady out of muscle memory alone.

Her head felt foggy. Heavy. Like someone had stuffed cotton behind her eyes.

Depression had always been like this — not dramatic, not cinematic. Just slow. Sneaky. A dull ache that told her she was failing even when she wasn’t. She used to think she beat it. That getting older meant growing out of it.

But depression didn’t disappear. It waited.

It came back in waves, and this one hit hard.

She’d wake up exhausted. Fall asleep more tired than when she woke. Her chest felt hollow, like something essential had been scooped out and never replaced. The future she’d built in her head, the one with stability, with rings and last names and a family that didn’t splinter had vanished overnight.

She could’ve broken the cycle.

That thought haunted her.

Nick clapped his hands. “Okay, intro. From the top. Let’s not fuck this one up.”

Chris grinned at the camera. “What’s up guys—”

“Cut,” Matt said.

Everyone froze.

“What now?” Nick groaned.

Matt’s eyes were on Y/N. Not angry. Not soft. Just focused. “She’s not recording.”

Her stomach dropped.

She looked down.

The red light was off.

“Fuck,” she muttered, flipping it on too fast. “Sorry.”

Nick tilted his head. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she said automatically. “I’m fine.”

They tried again.

And again.

And again.

Nothing stuck. Missed lines. Bad framing. Dead air. Twenty minutes passed with barely anything usable. Y/N stared through the viewfinder like it might give her answers if she looked long enough.

“Y/N.”

She didn’t respond.

“Y/N,” Matt repeated, sharper this time, snapping his fingers inches from her face.

She flinched. “What?”

“You need to focus,” he said. “We’ve been doing this for twenty minutes and we have nothing.”

Something hot twisted in her chest.

“Maybe if you’d chill the fuck out—”

“I am chill,” he shot back. “You’re the one checked out.”

Chris stepped in quickly. “Alright, let’s all take a breath—”

“No,” she snapped. “I’m tired of everyone acting like I’m the problem.”

Matt laughed once, humorless. “Because you’re not exactly making it easy.”

That did it.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” she said, voice tight. “Not after the shit you pulled the other night.”

He stiffened. “I apologized.”

“Yeah, and?” she fired back. “That doesn’t magically erase it.”

Nick frowned. “Hey—”

Matt ignored him. “I owned my shit. You’re just lashing out.”

Her hands shook.

“Oh, fuck you,” she laughed bitterly. “You think you’ve owned anything? You storm around here like the world owes you sympathy.”

“At least I’m still showing up,” he snapped. “You’ve been useless all day.”

The word hit harder than she expected.

Useless.

Something old and ugly crawled up her throat.

“You think you’re better than me?” she yelled. “You’re just another emotionally stunted asshole who doesn’t know how to be alone.”

Matt’s eyes went dark. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“I know you push everyone away and call it being introverted,” she shot back. “I know you’d rather be miserable than vulnerable.”

“You jealous?” he asked quietly.

She laughed, tears burning. “Why would I be jealous of you?”

“Because my ex is blowing up my phone trying to come back,” he shot back, voice venomous. “And yours couldn’t even send a text.”

Silence.

Chris stepped forward. “Matt—”

“Shut up,” Y/N yelled, spinning on him. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Silence.

The room felt too small. Too tight.

Chris stepped between them. “Enough. Both of you.”

Y/N’s chest burned. Her vision blurred. She grabbed her bag with shaking hands.

“I can’t do this,” she said, voice breaking despite her effort. “I’m done.”

She slammed the door behind her hard enough to rattle the walls.

The drive was a blur.

She pulled into the nearest dispensary, sat in her car with the engine off, hands shaking as she lit the pre-roll. The smoke burned her throat. Grounded her just enough to feel everything all at once.

And then she broke.

Sobbed so hard she couldn’t breathe. Over Josh. Her future. The ring that never came. The life she almost had. The family she wanted to build because hers had always been cracked down the middle.

She cried for the version of herself that thought love could save her.

She cried because now she had nothing.

And for the first time in years, the wave didn’t feel like it was passing.

It felt like it was dragging her under.

a/n: Well.. It's been a while, but guess who finally had motivation to write at 5am.

taglist:

@courta13 @m4gz-png @lezleeferguson-120

@h3arts4nat @izzylovesmatt @hsemeria @sturniqloo

@venusbabysblog @chrisslut04 @crazy4weeed @chriscokewhore @chrisswaffles @urfavvvnyasee @sturnzluv @freshluvr @mattthemunchh @poolover123 @pleasantdelusionbear @carpentersturns @emosexyvirgin @emillionaireee @shamelessmilkshakefest @xoxochrissgf @sturniolodollx @joyfulheartwhispers @cutseylady @oopsiedaisydeer @steph1106

@laylaluvsu2000 @lvrsturniolo @chloe444 @yamommmasman @55sturn @whenlovesaround @luvs-booksss @vampyyluv @moth-feeet @mx7ka @amb-3-r @ncm9696 @alinagrace11 @cherryystemm @bblbilly @d3vwrlds @chrismybouncyhouse @mattslvrxo @iluvchr1s @slutforchrissturniolo2 @mattsdemi @beardedbernard @cutseylady @kn3xtdoor @2prettyysturniolo @nicks-bubbles @bearnelli4life @sneezytime @skye-butterfly @mattslatina @mattsrightsockk @chrattstromboli

[chrisssiren]

let's make a few things clear:

Fuck ICE.

Fuck trump.

Fuck racists, fascists, sexists, nazis- fuck them all.

Fuck israel.

Free Palestine.

Free Sudan.

Free the Congo.

All lives matter.

No one's illegal on stolen land.

I love queer people and people of color and immigrants.

Abortion isn't a crime.

if you support the sorry excuse of a president and ICE or any other organization/people that are going against human rights and doing inhumane acts to other humans and abusing their authority please unfollow me or block me. i don't fuck with you one bit.

and if you're choosing to stay quiet, you are a part of the problem.

[megluvsmatt]

Looking so pretty underneath the professional Christmas lights!

[n3vers4tisfied]

I WISH I HAD A FREE BAG OF CHIIIIPPPSSSSUUUHHHH

[swagscooter]

seeing if he would melt into a kiss

"look, just put your arms out and stand still." you scold, while chris seems to not be able to stand still.

"okay, okay. jeez. all for a challenge?" the boy chuckles, annoyingly fake pouting just to get on your nerves. finally, his arms stretch out, and he looks straight forward as if he's about to serve his country. you know he's trying to piss you off.

"okay, yeah— thank you, christopher." you mumble, setting up the camera against a plant pot. "just... keep your arms up, okay?"

"what, y'gonna tickle me or somethin'? 'cause in that case, i might have to tickle you back—"

"no tickling." you cut him off.

chris knows how much you hate tickling. he learnt it the hard way — got silent treatment for a couple days.

"okay, okay. commence, i guess."

once your phone looks reliable enough to leave against the plant pot, looking steady, you stand infront of him, just staring up at him, before your arms snake up around his neck and you lift yourself up onto your toes.

honestly, he was thinking about which format he prefers corn in. sweetcorn? corn on the cob?— and then your lips are on his in a slow kiss.

you know chris adores slow kisses since he told you a while back, he said they were way more intimate, hence the favouritism.

he freezes at first. you told him to be still... but he can't help it. chris' hands lower to rest on your sides, finally returning the kiss.

slowly, his arms snake fully around your waist, lifting you up, and once your legs wrap around his waist, his hands rest under your thighs while he deepens the kiss, leaving the phone forgotten.

yeah, he melted into the kiss.

this is SO so shit but its 6am and CHRISTMAS EVE!!

[ceyanabbiolo]

⭑.ᐟ RELAPSE : REUNITED (PART 02)

dealer!chris x sweetheart!bunny ⋮ part of mini-series ⤷ previous part

in which . . . years have passed, and chris and bunny are in two very different places in life. but then they run into each other in a place they both never expected, leading to them talking for the first time in years . . .

warnings . . . relapsing, anxiety, past trauma reminders, mentions of drugs

author’s note . . . i didn’t create dealer!chris or sweetheart!bunny. this is just my personal interpretation of them. full credit to whoever originally came up with them. comment for series taglist here !!

Years dragged by. Four of them, to be exact. From nineteen to nearly twenty-three, Chris went through more than most people ever saw.

At nineteen, freshly after Bunny left, he spiraled. If anything, he got worse before he ever got better. He sank deeper into dealing and using, letting the streets swallow him whole.

His gang ties tightened, favors turned into debts, and violence became routine. He saw things he couldn’t unsee. He got jumped. He jumped others when deals went wrong. Somewhere along the way, he convinced himself this was all he was good for. All the while, Bunny stayed lodged in his mind. She wouldn't leave his head.

By twenty, things had deteriorated completely. His parents forced him into rehab, and this time he didn’t fight it, he was too tired. While he was inside, his “business” kept running without him. When he got out, he realized he no longer had control over his territory. The choice was simple and terrifying: fall back in line or walk away.

He tried to leave quietly, without announcements or goodbyes. But fear followed him out, and he relapsed not long after. His family unraveled again. His brothers worried, his father grew tense, and his mother lived in a constant state of fear for her son. When he was high, he talked about Bunny endlessly. About “his girl.” About how he’d lost her.

At twenty-one, everything collided. His relapse overlapped with mounting gang pressure, which were threats disguised as friendly warnings. A family intervention hit at the same time as a legal scare, and something finally gave. He chose rehab again, this time long-term. This time, for himself.

Rehab became his cover to disappear. Someone higher up agreed to let him walk, but not without consequences. He was cut off and warned never to come back. Left completely on his own.

At twenty-two, he came out clean and disconnected. No street income. No protection. No friends from his old life. Just family who wanted him to rebuild from the ground up. He took construction work under the table at first, letting physical labor burn out the anger and restlessness inside him. He still looked over his shoulder. Changed his number, and avoided old neighbourhoods.

He had no idea what Bunny was doing. When he asked, his brothers only said she was doing okay—that she was busy. They didn’t give him details. They wanted him focused on recovery, not the girl he’d been quietly longing for all these years.

Now, almost twenty-three, Chris was working full-time at the construction site and occasionally helping out at his dad’s auto shop. On top of that, he had finally brought his small clothing brand to life, something he’d been quietly building for years.

But as a construction worker, minor accidents were part of the job. One day, while on site, he injured his arm. Nothing too serious—but enough that he needed to get it checked out.

Meanwhile, Bunny was doing alright, at least on the surface. She left for university the month after the breakup, and everything hit her at once. Nursing school was relentless. The jump from high school to university was one she hadn’t been prepared for. Busy became her default and it kept her from falling apart.

From the outside, it looked like she’d moved on.

But the thing about moving on because you’re busy is that you haven’t really moved on at all. you’ve just learned how to outrun the hurt.

In quiet moments, it found her anyway. Long walks back to her dorm. Songs she couldn’t bring herself to skip. She never talked about Chris, never said his name out loud, but he lived in the spaces between her thoughts. In the way her chest tightened when she saw couples her age. In the reflex of checking her phone when something went wrong.

She was building a future she’d always dreamed of. She just hadn’t figured out how to leave him in the past.

She was twenty-two now. Not a teenage girl anymore. She was different—more sure of herself, more tired, more careful with her heart. Everything about her had changed. 

Except one thing. 

She still loved Chris. 

She didn’t understand it. Didn’t know what was wrong with her or why she couldn’t move on after all this time. She had done everything right, left, grown, and focused on her future. And still, he lingered.

No man ever truly satisfied her. Not because they were lacking, but because they weren’t him.

She dated one guy in her third year. It was brief, and doomed from the start. There were mistakes on both sides. But beneath it all was a truth she couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t over her first love.

And no matter how much time passed, sober Chris remained the standard she never meant to set. 

She had a secret. One she never talked about.

She’d kept in touch with Chris’s brother, Nick. Not as close friends—just enough to check in. Just enough to ask how Chris was doing without asking directly. At first, Nick had been angry with her for leaving. Angry on his brother’s behalf. But over time, he came to understand her side of it.

Through him, she learned about the rehab. The relapses. The long stretches of silence are followed by cautious hope. But her last update had been over a year ago. One day, Nick simply stopped replying. A changed number, maybe. Or maybe he just thought it was time to let go.

Since then, she’d been in the dark, left with nothing but memories and the quiet fear of not knowing whether the boy she once loved was still alive.

And then, on a seemingly ordinary day during her clinicals, she got her answer. 

Her fourth-year supervisor approached her. “Bunny, I need you to check out this patient. Minor arm injury—just the usual assessments. Here’s the chart.”

Bunny nodded, taking the folder. “Alright. Got it.”

She skimmed the chart quickly, not really focusing on the name—just checking for any obvious risks or special notes. After finishing her usual prep, she knocked and stepped into the room.

“Hi, my name is Bunny. I’ll be your student nurse today—”

Her words caught in her throat. 

She froze.

Because standing in front of her, sitting casually in the hospital bed, was him. 

Chris.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the room seemed to blur. Four years, countless memories, and yet here he was. Right in front of her, exactly as he’d haunted her dreams for years. 

He looked up, startled at first, then recognition dawned slowly in his eyes.

“Bunny?” His voice was low, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if this was real. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.

She glanced down at the client's chart, half-expecting her mind to be playing tricks on her. But no—there it was. The name matched. The details matched. It really was him.

He looked different. Older, with a rough stubble lining his jaw, and the boyish features she remembered now softened. Bunny forced herself to inhale slowly, to stand tall. Nursing standards demanded professionalism, and she had never been one to break them.

Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest. Every instinct screamed at her, and memories clawed back, vivid and unrelenting, while her hands trembled ever so slightly around the clipboard.

At first, she assumed he was here because of something drug-related; maybe he had gone too far. But then she looked at his face, at his eyes… and they were clear. 

“I… uh, I’ll just start with your vitals,” she murmured, shifting her gaze to the clipboard and fumbling for her pen.

She swallowed, trying to steady herself. Chris didn’t move. He just stared at her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to memorize it, like he couldn’t believe it was really her.

He blinked slowly, still watching her. “It's… really you,” he said finally, voice soft and almost disbelieving.

She forced a nod, careful to keep it professional, though every fiber of her body was screaming at her to move closer, to speak his name properly, to reach for him. Instead, she wrote down his heart rate, keeping her movements steady.

She placed the blood pressure cuff on his arm, her fingers brushing his skin longer than necessary. His pulse was strong under her touch, steady—but the warmth of his arm sent an involuntary shiver through her. She focused on the gauge, forcing herself to breathe slowly, reminding herself she was here to do a job.

“You… you’re really doing this?” he asked quietly, trying to break the tension. His tone was tentative, almost teasing, but she could hear the nerves underneath. “You're a nurse?’ 

She nodded without looking at him. “Student nurse,” she murmured, keeping her eyes trained on the numbers.

When she adjusted the thermometer under his arm, their sides brushed. She froze for a split second, heart hammering. He gave a small, quiet laugh. “You’re… so professional,” he said, his voice low, watching her closely.

“I have to be,” she said softly. She didn’t dare look at him, though every instinct wanted to. “It’s my job.”

“Right,” he said, still watching her. There was a pause. “Bun… I… I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She nodded and gripped the clipboard tighter when she heard the old nickname. Even as she kept the routine going, there was a tension in the air nthat either could ignore. 

She reminded herself she was a nursing student first. 

He was her patient. 

Nothing more.

As she finished taking his vitals, Chris’s voice broke the quiet. “This… suits you, bunny.”

Bunny’s hand paused over her pen, her back stiffening. “I… I can’t—” she said softly, shaking her head just enough to stop the conversation. Her tone was professional, but her heart was racing.

He tilted his head, a slow realization dawning in his expression. “Ah… I get it,” he said quietly.

“The doctor will be here soon,” she added quickly, glancing at the door. She set the clipboard down and took a small step back. “I—uh—well, I should—” She turned toward the door, giving a polite, professional nod. “Call bells right there—” 

Then, she felt it. His hand gently closed around her wrist. Her pulse jumped, and she froze. She glanced over her shoulder, a little startled. “Chris—” she whispered, her voice a mix of caution and surprise. 

He let out a small, almost smile, eyes earnest. “When do you get off?”

Her chest tightened. She had a feeling he'd ask that. He wasn’t letting her leave just yet, and even though she knew she had to remain professional, part of her wanted to answer honestly, to stay.

Bunny hesitated, twisting her wrist slightly to retrieve her pen. “I… I get off in about like three hours,” she said carefully. 

Chris’s grip didn’t loosen. “Three hours, huh?” he murmured. “Maybe I can catch you then? Demetres is close by.”

Demetres.

That was the little cafe that used to go to because they had the best smooties.

She tried to keep her composure. “Chris… I’m your care provider. I have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted softly, letting go of her wrist just enough to gesture with one hand. “I just… fuck… I just can’t leave like I didn't see you... ” He looked at her pleadingly. “Please bun? Just talking. Thats it.”

Her Careful professionalism started to crumple. She forced herself to step fully back, her hands folding neatly in front of her. “Well… you’ll get to talk to the doctor soon,” she said. “They’ll check you, and then you’ll be out.”

“Ok, nurse bunny.” He leaned back slightly on the bed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I expect to see you there."

She couldn’t deny the blush that formed on her cheek before she left. Finally, she nodded, cleared her throat, and stepped toward the door.

When she stepped out the door, Chris couldn’t believe it. It was Bun, his Bunny. Only now, she was older, confident in ways she hadn’t been before. She looked put together with her scrubs and stethoscope. She was…beautiful. More than she was at eighteen or the first time he saw her.

The nervous energy he remembered from high school was gone, replaced by confidence. The memories of late-night talks in his car and gentle kisses were flooding his mind.

He’d always had the feeling he’d run into her again someday. Just not like this.

Fuck. He still loved her.

He knew he wasn’t over it. He’d just learned how to bury the feeling deep enough to survive. But seeing her again dragged everything back to the surface. This time, he couldn’t let her walk away so easily. Not again. 

Bunny, on the other hand, was barely holding it together. She continued her rounds, but the moment she found herself alone in the staff room, her composure cracked. Her heart wouldn’t slow, and her thoughts wouldn’t settle.

Two hours after their encounter, she found herself standing outside his room again, pretending she had a reason to be there. She peeked inside.

Empty.

He must’ve already been discharged.

She stood there longer than she needed to, staring at the empty bed, her chest tight. His words echoed in her mind. When do you get off?

She told herself it didn’t matter. That she should let it go. But as she walked away, she realized the offer was still there...unanswered.

That’s why, when her shift finally ended, she sat in her car for a full five minutes, hands gripping the steering wheel, talking herself out of it. Telling herself it was a bad idea.

But then she drove to Demetres anyway.

When she got there, she didn’t hesitate. She parked, got out, and rushed inside, scanning the room almost immediately. Her eyes swept over tables, booths, the counter.

He wasn’t there.

Her brows knit together, disappointment settling in her chest. 

He didn’t come—

A gentle poke touched her shoulder. She turned quickly.

He did come.

“Hi,” Chris said quietly.

Bunny let out a breath, a smile pulling at her lips. “Hi…”

Chris smiled back, then nodded toward the register. They stepped forward together, standing side by side. And somehow, that felt stranger than being alone in a hospital room.

There was something different about him. A quiet confidence. And even almost dominant? Not in an intimidating way, but like he knew exactly where he was meant to be.

She cleared her throat. “Um… I’ll just get a smoothie,” she said, reaching for her purse and fumbling for her card. 

Before she could pull it out, Chris spoke. “I got it.”

She looked up. “Chris—”

“I said I got it,” he repeated, already handing his card to the cashier.

She hesitated, then slowly let her hand fall back to her side. “You didn’t have to—”

He glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips, his voice low. “Have I ever made you pay, Bun?” Then, almost teasing, “I’m not about to start now just because it’s been a while.”

She huffed out a quiet breath, shaking her head. When the cashier handed them the receipt, Chris nodded toward the back.

They walked together in comfortable silence, and without realizing it, they stopped at the same booth. The same one they used to sit in during high school, tucked away in the corner, half-hidden from the rest of the place.

Bunny froze for a second.

“So…” she murmured, glancing around the booth. “Guess we still have the same instincts.”

Chris let out a quiet laugh as he slid in across from her. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Looks like it.”

An awkward silence settled between them, which lasted a good minute, until Chris finally spoke.

“You don’t have to be so quiet, Bun.”

She looked up, startled. “Sorry… I just—” she paused, searching for the words. “I kind of zoned out.”

He nodded, understanding more than he let on. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” she answered quickly. Too quickly. “You?”

“Good.”

Another silence followed.

Fuck. This was awkward.

Because even Chris had no idea what to say to his first love. His ex-girlfriend was sitting right in front of him, in the same booth he’d only ever seen in his dreams for the past four years.

“How’s every—”

“You been—”

They stopped at the same time.

Bunny let out a small, nervous laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry. You go.”

He shook his head, smiling a little. “No, you.”

Bunny returned the smile. “I was just going to ask… how you hurt your arm. Or why?”

“Oh.” He glanced down at it briefly. “Work. Just a dumb accident.”

She paused. “Work?” Then quickly corrected herself, realizing how it sounded. “I mean—like—”

Chris chuckled, cutting her off. “Nah, I get it.” He shrugged easily. “I work now. Construction, mostly. And I help out at my dad’s auto shop when he needs it.”

Bunny blinked, genuine surprise crossing her face. It was such a simple thing, but it meant everything to her eighteen-year-old self. 

“That’s… that’s really good, Chris,” she said softly. “I’m really glad.”

He nodded, a little bashful now. “Yeah. Took me a while, but… I’m good.”

She studied him for a moment. This wasn’t the boy who used to burn himself out chasing the next high. This was closer to the boy she’d first fallen in love with. Worn around the edges, maybe…but present.

The question slipped out before she could stop herself. “You still…?”

Chris lifted a brow, then understanding flickered across his face. “Oh. Yeah—no. I, uh… I’ve been clean for a while now.” He exhaled slowly. “For real this time. I’m not going back.”

Her chest tightened. Bunny smiled, small but genuine. That was all she’d ever wished for him. “Really?”

“Yeah, I went to rehab, Bun. Twice, actually.” His voice softened. “I… I took your advice. I stopped doing the one thing that was killing me.”

Her smile faltered for just a second before returning. She remembered saying those exact words the night they broke up. And somehow… he’d remembered them all this time. 

“Hey—nevermind all that,” he said quietly, like he didn’t talk about it. His eyes lifted to her again. “What about you, Bunny?” She blinked. “You’re a nurse?” he continued, a small shake of his head. “I never… I never expected you to choose that career path.”

Her heart gave a small ache.

I told you, she thought. You just weren’t sober enough to remember.

Out loud, she only smiled. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m almost graduating. Just a few more months.” He looked impressed, proud even. “I have to write the NCLEX,” she added, a little more confidently. “And then… I’m a nurse.”

Chris leaned back slightly, “Damn,” he said under his breath. “You should be proud of yourself, bun.”

The conversation carried on easily after that. They talked about the years in between and what they’d been up to. But beneath every word, they were both too busy looking at each other.

Chris couldn’t stop. The way she smiled when she talked, the way her hands moved when she explained things, it all felt familiar and brand new at the same time. She was beautiful in a way that hurt, in a way his imagination had never quite gotten right, no matter how many nights he’d spent thinking about her.

And Bunny… she kept catching herself staring. The way his shoulders filled out his jacket. The calm confidence in how he sat. He looked put together. Like a man who knew himself now. This was the version of Chris she used to think about when she imagined getting married.

“So yeah…” she finished, trailing off slightly, realizing she’d been rambling. "That's... how everything's been going."

Chris nodded, pretending he’d been focused on every word. He hesitated for just a second before asking, trying to sound casual. “You, uh…” He shrugged lightly. “You seeing anyone?”

He held his breath without meaning to. Bunny blinked, surprised by the question, then shook her head. “No. I’m not.”

Thank god. Relief washed over him so fast he had to look down for a second, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

“Oh,” he said, brushing it off like it didn’t matter, though his heartbeat betrayed him. “Yeah. Me neither.” He met her eyes. “Just… wondering if you’d want to grab dinner sometime. I mean, not just smoothies like this… something proper.”

Bunny’s lips curved into a smile. Then, almost immediately, a frown replaced it. Chris noticed and leaned back slightly, trying to read her expression. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said gently.

She shook her head slowly. “No… it’s just…” She let out a shaky sigh, staring down at the table. “I… I broke up with you when you were at your lowest. And now… you’re asking me to go out since you’re… better. I don’t know. I feel… selfish.”

Chris reached for her hand, but held back, letting her words linger in the air. “Bunny… you’re not selfish. I... I wasn't a good boyfriend. When I was at rehab, I... I realized how fucked up I actually was,” he said softly. “I’m asking because… I need to know if you still feel the same… or if you've moved on? If you did, I get it... It's been four years. I don't be upset.” Lie.

“I haven’t,” she admitted.

He froze for a moment. “You… haven’t?”

“Why’d you think I showed up?”

“Why’d you think I asked?”

“I just… I didn’t think you would care,” she admitted quietly. “We only dated for two years. In high school.” One… not counting the year he was barely functioning.”

Chris didn’t hesitate. “And they were the best two years of my life.”

Her head snapped up. He wasn’t smiling now. His expression was open, raw in a way she remembered too well.

“You were my everything, Bun,” he said, voice low. “You were the only good thing I had back then. I’m sorry if I’m scaring you again, but…” He exhaled slowly. “I can’t pretend this doesn’t matter. I can’t walk away from you.”

Her eyes burned. “You were my everything too, Chris,” she whispered. “That’s why I had to leave.”

Silence settled between them, heavy but honest.

“I know,” he said finally, softer now. “And I don’t blame you. I just—” His thumb brushed the edge of the table, restless. “I’m not asking for everything. Just… I haven’t gone a day without thinking about you. I wrote these letters—”

Bunny froze. “You… wrote me letters?”

Chris’s cheeks heated a little, a little embarrassed. “Yeah… just when it got really bad, and I needed to vent. Not to send or anything.” He gave a small, sheepish shrug. “You told me to get a journal… remember?”

She blinked, her chest tightening at the memory. I did tell him that…

“You… kept them all this time?” she asked quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

“Some of them,” he admitted, looking down at his hands. “I couldn’t throw them away. I… I guess I was hoping… maybe someday… you’d read them. To prove I actually made progress.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward a little. “I mean—look, I didn’t want to freak you out or anything. It’s just… I kept thinking about you, about us, and I know I screwed things up, and I—well, I was stupid and reckless and—”

“Chris.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d love to have dinner with you.”

© 𝐂𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

[camilaisangelicc]

Matt either shows up looking 100% sub or 100% dom

LOOK AT THIS MFFFF??!!!

[sturnlsstuff]

⸻ PUSH AND PULL • part seven

— fratboy!chris x sassy!reader

— includes: smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, cursing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, stomach bulge, angst, slight violence¿ — english isn't my first language.

chris is cocky and persistent, all about getting what he wants until he accidentally runs into you at a party. your sarcastic attitude, and the way you refuse to fall for his charm, is both incredibly hot and frustrating- challenging him in ways he never experienced before.

previous part. | wc: 8,8k

you were always good at lying and hiding things, which made many people think they knew you, when in reality, they only knew what you let them know. you always had complete control over what you said and did, whether it was lying to your mom that you were sick to skip school just to sneak out on a date with your first boyfriend, or the fact that you could come home drunk off your ass and pretend to be perfectly sober, saying you had a headache and going to bed. even your bestfriend riley didn't know everything. even when you got cheated on, you didn't call anyone, just dealt with it all by yourself. when your friends found out, you didn't show any sadness, just said that you were going to break up with your ex anyway.

but no matter how strong you can be, it does leave a scar.

the more you thought about it, the more angry it made you. the idea of chris not only getting cheated on, but also the girl he loved plotting on his own triplet brother? that must've hurt like a motherfucker. you cant even imagine what would you do if your ex cheated on you with, for example, riley. she's like a sister to you and even the thought makes your stomach twist.

as you started understanding more now, you noticed how similar you and chris were. he keeps his walls up, trusts only a few closest people and thinks that showing that he might care is some kind of weakness. now you understand that he understands you and that makes you understand him.

and as much as you wanted him gone before, now you don't really like that idea anymore. other people just don't get it— he on the other hand... he experienced something similar to you, or probably something even worse, and that gives you some kind of comfort.

which is fucked up.

you feel like you're going fucking crazy.

you wanted to talk to him, to tell him that you know and you understand.

but you couldn't.

it's been a week and you haven't said a word.

the day after the beach, you'd found nate sitting outside the frat house, head in his hands, clearly regretting everything he’d said. you'd sat down next to him, told him you'd handle it, that you'd tell chris. you'd even tried to sound calm, like you had a plan, but you didn’t. it was hard to convince nate to give you time, but he eventually agreed to stay quiet for now. but you knew he'll crack soon. he couldn't keep something like this from chris and you understood that. you promised you'd talk to chris and that you'd make sure he didn’t think it was nate's fault.

and you meant it. right up until you actually had to do it.

you've tried, really. talked to yourself while alone, trying to come up with a perfect conversation start, but there was none. you won't just go and tell him you know about his backstabbing ex that he so desperately doesn't want anyone to know about. that you were digging into his personal life behind his back.

everytime you see him it's like your throat locks up, and you end up acting like everything's fine. telling yourself it’s not a big deal, that it’s not your fault you found out, that his secret just came to you, that nothing would have happened if nancy wasn't mentioned before. that you wouldn't get curious.

but you know that’s a lie. you wanted to know and you did dig.

each time you two hang out, you feel this heavy thing in your chest. sometimes you open your mouth ready to blurt it out, but then chris says something stupid, or smirks at you in that cocky way of his, and you just can't.

you keep telling yourself that it's better this way, that if he doesn’t know, he won’t get mad. if he never finds out, nothing will change.

but you know that’s not true either, because nate will tell him eventually. if not him, matt or nick will.

and the worst part is that you genuinely don't like the idea of chris stopping to talk to you. a few weeks ago, this wouldn’t have bothered you at all, you would've finally got rid of him, but now the thought makes you feel uneasy.

now, you catch yourself wondering how the fuck you've let it get this far. when did you start caring what he thought, or how he’d feel, or whether he’d still look at you the same if he knew?

and every time you almost convince yourself to tell him, you see his face in your head— not the teasing grin, but the look he’d get when someone actually crosses the line.

so you wait. hesitate.

it's ridiculous at this point. you rehearse it sometimes in your head.

hey, by the way, i know about nancy.

and every version of it sounds wrong.

because how the fuck do you tell someone that you found out the worst part of their past from their drunk best friend on a beach at three in the morning?

you keep going back and forth, your thoughts a mess. once he knows, he’ll stop talking to you, this whole thing will be over. then you get stuck on that last part. what thing? technically, there's no “thing.” so why does it feel like... like this?

and why does he notice?

the first time he says something you're in his room like always. he was smoking a joint, leaning against the wall, head tilted as he watches you dress.

“'sup with you?” he asks suddenly. "actin' all weird lately. don't tell me you fallin' in love 'cos that would've sucked," he jokes.

your brain freezes for a second.

"please," you scoff and roll your eyes. "you wish." then you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind. "i think my period’s close or something."

and it works.

chris is definitely not the type to ask twice, but you know he sees the way you drift sometimes. he thinks it’s hormones. you wish it was that simple.

you keep quiet, acting normal, still hanging out with him like always, but the longer you wait, the harder it gets. every day that passes, you feel like you're walking on a thiner and thiner ice, and you know it’s going to crack eventually.

and the clock was ticking.

the kitchen in the frat house always smells faintly like cheap beer and coffee, and you find yourself there again some random tuesday afternoon, leaning against the counter, watching chris put way too much cereal into a bowl. "y'all live like twelve year old boys. haven't seen real food in here once."

chris looks up at you, spoon in his hand. "you could always make us somethin', smartass. you sit here almost everyday anyway."

you raise an eyebrow. "am i your mother?" you ask, reaching for his bowl before he can stop you. you steal a spoonful of his cereal just to annoy him.

“hey—” he tries to snatch it back, but you just grin with your mouth full.

“you call this dinner? this is fucking sad, chris.”

"oh, m'sorry, you weren't complainin' when we were gettin' pizza everyday this week."

"'cause pizza at least can make me full."

"how is this healthier than cereal?"

"never said it is."

he's about to say something back, but the sound of footsteps pull both your attention toward the doorway. matt and nate walk in and you almost choke on that cereal.

they're both talking about something until they notice you're here again, which clearly means that chris still doesn't know.

they say a casual “hey", almost at the same time, but it doesn’t sound casual at all.

"hey,” you say back, too fast, immediately pulling out your phone to try and ignore them staring.

chris doesn’t notice it, too busy pouring milk as nate asks him about the halloween party they're throwing this weekend. you can feel matt's eyes on you, not in a mean way, just reminding, which is enough to make your stomach drop.

the next two days it was getting even harder to act normal. especially now, being in a car with nick, matt and chris, coming back from the cinema. you ran into them there, finding out that you all went to watch the same movie— you with your friends and chris with his brothers. then after, they offered to give you a ride since they'd pass by your place anyway.

it was fine, mostly. you even laughed at some of nick's jokes, but still in the back of your head you had this thought that you're running out of time. especially when you caught matt's eyes in the rearview mirror.

now matt's car hums softly as it slows in front of your building. you unbuckle your seatbelt, thanking them for the ride, chris muttering something about 'having to smoke' so he gets out first just as you drop your phone.

"fuck," you curse, sliding your hand between the seats.

"you goin'?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

"yeah, hold on, i dropped my phone," you answer.

"i'll be outside."

he shuts the door and it's now uncomfortably quiet.

nick beside you is scrolling on his phone, matt still in the driver’s seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping his knee like he’s trying to stay patient.

you find your phone, fingers wrapping around it. "got it."

but before you can even lift your head, matt's voice cuts through the still air. "tell him today.”

you slowly look up, staring at the back of his head. he doesn't even glance at you, just stares out the windshield.

"nate's losin' his mind,” he adds after a moment. “he'll tell chris about this, it's just matter of time. you're dragging it.”

"we don't want bad for you," nick cuts in, catching your gaze. "we know chris better than you and if you wanna keep talkin' to him then you have to be the one telling him. i'm not saying he won't be mad, but it's gonna be worse if you keep waiting."

your throat feels dry. you open your mouth, but no sound comes out. there's nothing to say. no excuse you haven't already repeated to yourself a hundred times.

so instead of replying, you grab your purse, push the door open, and step out into the cold air.

chris was standing a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the cigarette between his fingers. the smoke curled up in soft gray swirls. he glances at you, exhaling through his nose.

"took you long enough," he says lazily.

"couldn't find it," you lie.

"you always drop your shit, clumsy ass."

"then maybe start carrying everything for me like the gentleman you're supposed to be?"

"who said i'm a gentleman?"

"don't know, but they definitely lied."

he rolls his eyes, flicking the ash of the cigarette and taking another drag. there was a small moment of silence as he scratches his neck, clearly fighting with himself then speaking up again, without really looking at you. "uh, so, apparently there's an eclipse this sunday. saw on tiktok," he adds quickly after feeling your surprised gaze on him. "they also said it's a better experience not to see it all by y'self, so i guess m'gonna be generous and do ya a favor since you kept yappin' about it a while back," he catches your questioning expression. "i mean, you prolly gonna stay over tomorrow after the party anyway, so we can watch it or somethin'," he shrugs. "i dunno."

you stared at him, not sure if he was joking, but he seemed pretty serious. you could feel your heart beating faster at the thought of him not only remembering what you've said, but also offering you to watch a goddamn eclipse together. since when he even offers you something like that?

and since when do you even consider it?

you tried to cover your shocked expression and act casual, even if it started to feel nothing like it.

"you got some kind of diary where you write down everything i say?" you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm as you try to act cool.

he smirks, "fuck, you got me."

you chuckled, keeping the eye contact with him for a little too long. "i meaaan... i did wanna see an eclipse so..." you clear your throat. "what time is this halloween party exactly anyway?" you ask, shifting your weight.

he shrugs, "like eight or somethin'."

"actually, i don't know if i'll come," you say. "i don't have a costume yet."

he raises an eyebrow. "you don't have a costume? how's that even possible?"

now you shrugged. the truth is you had so much on your mind that you didn't even realize that halloween is coming up.

"what you dressing up as?"

"m'not tellin' you," he exhales clouds of smoke.

you crossed your arms. "why not?"

"so you can't match with me."

you give him a deadpan look. "that's the last thing i'd do."

but now the idea is tempting. just to piss him off.

the corner of his mouth twitches as he takes another drag, then says through the smoke, "joker."

oh damn.

"of course," you scoff, trying to sound like you just haven't imagined him in that costume.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"that you're predictable."

he squinted at you. "predictable how exactly?"

"y'know," you say, voice teasing, "you already act like him half the time."

"have you ever watched the movies?"

"yup," you nod.

"and i am acting like him?"

"can see some similarities."

he shakes his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "then if i'm joker, you're harley. y'know, since you soooo like me. 'n you lowkey fucked in the head too."

"first of all, fuck you. second, that first part is debatable."

he takes another drag, tilting his head, looking you up and down. "i mean, i can see the vision, honestly."

"are you saying we should match?" you raise your eyebrows.

"fuck no," he huffs. "that's cringe."

"everything you do is cringe and you never seem to complain about it," you remarked.

he glares at you, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his shoe. he walks closer, wetting his lips. "i mean, you'd look sexy as fuck. if you lemme crack you with that costume on then maybe...."

a shiver goes down your spine, but you gently push him away, acting unbothered. "you're a freak."

his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, his smirk returning. he takes a step backward toward the car. "see ya, quinn."

you rolled your eyes, but your heart did that annoying thing where it stuttered anyway.

two days later, the bass hit before you even walked through the front door. you could feel it under your shoes, the faint vibration of a hundred drunk voices shouting over music that was way too loud for anyone to actually talk. the house looked amazing, red lights spilling from open windows, fog machine smoke drifting through the hallways, halloween decorations all over the place.

you followed your friend riley to the kitchen, already half regretting the heels. you adjusted your shorts, trying not to think about the fact that you actually gonna match with this motherfucker. you totally didn't wanna see his face when he saw you.

let's be honest, you look hot as fuck and you're aware of it.

the kitchen was packed. you and riley managed to find a bottle of tequila and started pouring shots into red cups. the first shot made you wince, but after the third one, you got used to the liquid burning down your throat.

“didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

you almost jumped at the voice right in front of your ear, your heart dropping straight to your stomach, but it got even worse when you turned around.

oh.

oh.

your brain went blank for a second.

chris was just right in front of you and... holy shit.

his green tinted hair pushed back, the dark smudges under his eyes, the rings catching the light... he made effort that's for sure. everything about him screamed joker, like the costume was made for him. he looks a little too good and it was the worst part because your body betrayed you immediately. your mind tried to play it off, to be chill, but every nerve in your body was screaming.

you swallowed hard, crossing your arms, hoping he didn’t notice the way your breath hitched and how obviously you just looked him up and down.

“wow,” you said finally, trying to sound unimpressed. “you actually committed to it.”

he smirked, eyes scanning you shamelessly. “you did too.”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on your legs. “i wasn’t sure if you were being serious.”

"i told you,” he said, stepping closer, enough for you to catch the faint scent of smoke and his cologne. “you do it 'n the costume stays on."

"this some kind of fantasy of yours?" you raise an eyebrow.

the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. "you 'bout to find out tonight."

you hummed, shaking your head. before you could reply, riley appeared out of nowhere, shoving another shot into your hand.

"where's one f'me?" chris asks her. the girl gives him a fake smile. "you know how to use your hands, don't you?" then she vanished again.

chris scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he spots one lonely shot on the counter and he's quick to take it.

"i think she hates me."

"nahhhh," you match his sarcasm, "neverrr."

he raised his cup slightly, smirk in place, then downed it in one go.

you did too, grimacing as the burn hit again.

"don’t get too drunk,” he said, voice lazy. “i ain't gonna stop you from clockin' some girl's shit again."

“that was one time,” you rolled your eyes. you had some random argument a few weeks ago at one of the parties.

“still,” he turns slowly. "be a good girl."

you flip him off, making his grin widen before he disappears into the crowd.

you stood there for a second, staring at where he’d gone, trying to breathe normally again. riley was back, saying something about dancing, getting you out of your little trance.

the night blurred fast. the house felt too small for the amount of people stuffed inside it, the air was thick with alcohol, sweat and smoke, and you couldn’t tell if you were dizzy from the drinks or from how many times you’d caught sight of chris across the room. he was acting as unbothered as ever, getting drunk with his friends, sometimes catching your gaze, but never staring back for too long. just enough to make your legs feel weak.

you’d lost count of the shots hours ago. your lipstick was probably half gone, your pigtails a little uneven, but you didn’t care, just having fun. your friend grabbed your hand, spinning you around while shouting lyrics to some old song, and you just went with it, laughing.

still, every now and then, that thought came back. you should’ve told him already.

the one thing you kept shoving away with another drink.

tomorrow.

now neither of you is sober.

but you knew it's just another excuse.

you also felt some eyes on you, catching a few side glances when you walked by, whispers that weren’t even subtle. it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. chris was the only one dressed as joker here and you were harley, so it was obvious you two were matching. and apparently some girls didn't seem to like that, but you couldn't give a fuck less. it was actually funny.

you ended up outside because the air inside had gotten too heavy and your friends needed a cigarette break. you stumbled out of the house, hitting something solid. or, more like someone.

"woah—"

before you even registered what happened, a hand caught your arm, keeping you upright. your friends immediately gasped and then broke into knowing giggles.

you grip the person's shoulder, keeping your balance in the last moment and looking up just to see chris' painted face with a joint between his lips. the faint glow of it lit up his grin.

"you really be fallin' f'me, huh?"

you scoff, rolling your eyes and straightening up. "and you really want me to, huh?" you remark, stepping back, letting his hand slip off your body.

your friends exchanged looks, then riley says “we’ll be over there,” and points somewhere toward the driveway, already backing away.

"and you really want me to want that, huh?" he mocks you.

you huff. "you got the whole porch and you had to be standing in front of the door?"

"learn how to walk straight maybe?"

you gave him a glare that only made his grin widen. the smoke drifted from his lips as he took a long drag. "gonna say sorry, or jus' stand there starin'?" he said.

"no, i won't," you replied flatly. "now move.”

he didn’t. he took another drag, eyes scanning your face, the glitter on your cheekbone, the smudged lipstick that had once been red.

the intensity of his eyes made you forget that you were gonna go back to your friends in the first place. you wanted to say something, anything, but your brain was a mess. so instead, you looked at the joint and said, "gimme that."

he raises an eyebrow, the smallest flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “say please.”

you gave him a look. “fuck you.”

he takes another drag, not even answering, but one look at his face was enough.

around five minutes later, you were pressed against the bathroom door, chris' tongue fighting with yours for dominance. your shorts were somewhere on the floor already, his fingers deep inside your cunt making you moan against his lips.

"you're so full of shit, always actin' like you don't want me..." he mutters, biting down on your neck. he pumps his fingers in and out quickly, his thumb rubbing over your clit in sync with his movements. "but your body never lies."

he was always right.

your body has been betraying you since the beginning.

and now your heart is doing the same.

"shut up," you breathe out, gripping his shoulder for support.

a small grin spreads across his face as he keeps his ruthless pace. "there it is... that dirty mouth again." he adds a third finger, stretching you. your pussy couldn't stop making that squelching sound and it only turned him on more. "fuck, you always get so wet f'me..." he pulls his fingers out briefly just to shove them back deeper and make you moan. "anyone outside this door right now can hear ya bein' a slut for my fingers." he curls them against your g-spot, your vision blurring.

when he feels your walls tightening around him, he pulls out, ignoring the whimper of protest you let out even if it goes straight to his dick.

he grabs your wrist, moving you toward the sink and turning you to face the mirror. "y'gonna watch y'self," he says, pressing his hand on your back. you bent over obediently, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. his joker makeup was already slightly smeared, green hair slightly fading from the heat. he looked even hotter than before.

he tears your fishnets and panties off just enough to expose your dripping cunt, making you gasp softly. he pulls down his pants just enough to free his hard cock, giving it a few rough strokes before pressing against your entrance. "eyes on the mirror," he demands hoarsely. he kicks your legs apart more, teasing you with his tip. he slides into you slowly, his dick brushing against your sensitive walls. "good girl," he praises, buried to the hilt. "look how well y'take me."

"holy shit," you whimper, fingers digging into the sink to steady yourself.

your face contorts in pleasure as he immediately picks up the pace, his thrusts getting faster and harder. "funny," he chuckles, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. "weren't you callin' me gross for fuckin' some random chick in here? remember that?"

oh god.

your body suddenly feels too warm, the rush in your chest makes your breathing uneven. and you just realize— it was the same place when you once opened the door, finding him with some girl in here and then called him a bunch of names. it was the first time you've seen him and now you were that girl from the bathroom.

you don't recognize yourself anymore.

he grabs your chin when your head falls forward. "i said watch," he repeats, his other hand digging into your hip. another whimper leaves you when he pounds into you deeper. the paint on his face is smearing slightly with sweat, your own lipstick was smudged all over your lips and chin from the makeout session outside the house.

"chris— oh....ah, fuck!" you cry out, legs trembling. your eyes stay locked on the mirror, catching his.

"isn't that just so hilarious? that this ain't gross f'you no more?" he slaps your ass, leaving a red print on your skin. "guess things change, huh?"

you're out of your mind at this point, his words sending a shiver down your spine, heat crawling up the back of your neck.

"chris— mmhp, fuck— please..."

"what'cha beggin' for, hm?" he adjusts his angle, making you whimper. your mouth falls open which causes his fingers to brush against your lips. he slides them past your lips, muffling your constant noises.

"feel how deep inside i am?" he grabs your hand, guiding it on your lower belly. you feel the moving bulge under your palms as he keeps sliding in and out.

"mhm," you hummed around his fingers, feeling the growing pressure, your walls clamping down around his dick.

"fuck— gonna cum, hm? good... shitttt—keep your eyes on the mirror. look how much of a mess you are...it's ridiculous."

he slams into you harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the bathroom. his dick swells inside you as he feels your orgasm building. "c'mon, baby... come on that cock like a good little slut."

a rush of heat flooded through you, leaving you breathless and unsteady, your hands gripping the counter just to stay grounded. it was pathetic to watch yourself getting ruined by him like that, but it was also the hottest thing ever. you just couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror— and his face, to be more specific.

"so fuckin' tight..." he groans, watching your eyes roll back as pleasure overtakes you, your gummy walls squeezing him like a vice, making his dick twitch. "gonna cum inside, yeah?"

you nod weakly, still having his fingers in your mouth as he helps you ride out your climax. "fuckkkkkk.... fuck, love this pussy...—" he grunts, head tilting back as he spills inside you, his hot release filling every inch of you. he grabs your hips with both hands again, pulling you back onto his cock harder a few more times before finally stopping, both of you breathing heavily.

a few moments passes and chris is the first to move. he pulls out, slowly stepping back, the sound of fabric and metal sharp in the quiet as he drags his pants up and zips them. you feel his release leaking out of you which he notices too.

"look at that..." he mutters under his breath, finger tracing along your folds, gathering his cum and pushing it right back into your pussy, making you whine. he smirks, "sensitive, huh? that's cute."

then he grabs some toilet paper while you slowly come back on earth. you blink when he decides clean you up without a word.

"chill," he says, feeling you shifting to move his hand away.

his hands were steady, calmer than yours. you look over your shoulder, also realizing the ripped fishnets and panties. "really?” you muttered under your breath, looking down at the damage. chris glanced over, one eyebrow lifting, mouth pulling into that grin that somehow made everything worse. "you're welcome,” he said, finishing and throwing the paper away.

you rolled your eyes, tugging the fabric higher, trying to make it look less obvious and then pulling your shorts back up. now your fishnets were just slightly torn across your thigh and it lowkey looked like a part of the look.

"you look like a mess," he mumbles, clearly satisfied with himself.

you scoff. "did you see yourself?"

"yup," he nods. "i look hot as shit."

"oh my god, you narcissist... go. people probably wanna pee."

he grins, walking over to the door, but stopping with a hand on the handle. "yeah. did i mention how funny it is that you were people once?"

the memory hits you like a flash again, the way your voice was full of disgust back then, and now...

“shut up,” you cut in fast, looking back at the mirror and starting to fix your makeup. “just go.”

chris' holds your gaze for a second longer, eyes glinting. "as you wish, quinn,” he said smugly, before unlocking the door and slipping out into the noise of the hallway.

the second the door closed, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you'd been holding. you got yourself together, looking more presentable now and by the time you stepped back out, the party had moved on like nothing happened. you pushed through the crowd, still lightheaded, and found your friends in the kitchen. riley was leaning against the counter with a bottle in her hand.

she looked at you just once and her brows lifted a little. she didn’t need to ask. she just handed you her beer when you walked over. you took it without saying a thing, taking a big sip. the cold hits your throat and burns a little, grounding you. riley just watches you.

"what?” you mutter.

"nothing.” she grabs another bottle for herself and takes a sip as well.

you had that weird feeling in your stomach, not knowing what it was. and why did you feel it now, after leaving the bathroom? you were fine before. you were able to ignore those thoughts the whole evening.

you toy with the rim of the bottle, staring into the amber liquid. you clear your throat. "hypothetically,” you start, keeping your voice casual, “if someone found out something about a person... like, something they weren’t supposed to know. what do you do with that?"

riley tilts her head, thinking. "depends on what it is.”

"just something personal. something they wouldn’t want anyone to know.” you pause, shifting your weight. "and if you tell them, they’ll most likely get mad and stop talking to you.”

riley hums quietly, tracing her finger along the bottle. “so you found out something about someone, and you feel guilty.”

you blink. "i didn’t say that.”

"why would you ask me if you didn't feel guilty?"

"out of curiosity," you remark. "just wanted to know what you'd do. besides, it's not about me. it's hypothetical."

"okay, well, i think that if it's something important and that person matters to me then i'd let them know that i know."

but did chris matter to you? not really.

you just don't like the idea of him not talking to you.

were you delusional?

"let's say it was me," you say. "would you tell me even if you knew i might cut you off?"

she thinks. "if it's something really personal and i found out all by myself?" you nodded. "hm, it'd definitely be hard, 'cause i wouldn't wanna lose you, but i'd tell you anyway. for sure."

"why?"

"'cause you're my friend and you should have the choice to decide what you'd do with it. maybe you'd keep talking to me? there's never just one option. and it'd definitely be worse if you found out that i know something from someone else."

fuck, she was talking just like matt.

you take another sip, letting the noise of the party fill the silence that follows. but the uneasiness sits heavy, even under the alcohol.

riley nudges you with her shoulder. "whoever it is,” she says, “just be straight with them. whatever happens, at least it’s off your chest.”

you snort. “yeah, right. that'll go great.” she just gives you a look, "it always sounds worse in your head.”

you hum, not answering. your gaze drifts toward the doorway, almost wanting to ask riley if she thinks he’d hate you for knowing—but that would mean admitting who he is.

"look who it is."

the words hit your spine first, cold and familiar. you'd know this voice anywhere. you turned, seeing no one else but your ex coming your way, grin plastered on his drunken face like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.

"there's no way," you muttered under your breath. you haven't seen him since chris punched him on the parking lot a while ago. you kind of hoped you'd never see his ugly face again.

riley looks jake up and down with disgust. then she looks at you. "don't engage."

he stops right in front of you, beer bottle dangling between his fingers, eyes dragging over you in a way that makes your skin itch.

he had no costume. boring.

"you look good," he says, ignoring riley's death stare. "matchin' with your new boyfriend?"

well, it was hard not to engage when his voice was so annoying.

"why? you wish you were him?" you shot back, keeping your voice calm.

"nah, just sayin' you look different," he drawls.

"it's a halloween party, you moron. of course i look different."

he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. "not what i meant, but okay," he mutters. "it's just funny to me how out of all the people in the room, you ended up with him."

you rolled your eyes, not answering because you didn't owe him anything. no clarification, no explanation. nothing. he can think whatever he thinks.

"you ever wonder why?" he asks casually.

"can you go bother someone else?" riley snaps, but your curiosity is already piqued.

your brow furrowed. "why what?"

"why him," he shrugs, taking another lazy sip from the bottle. "'cause since i know why, i can't stop myself from even feelin' bad for you. you'd always call me pathetic, but guess you ain't any better, huh?"

"what are you even talking about?"

he tilts his head, smile widening. "oh, i thought you'd figure it out by now since you claim to be so above everyone else. but you really think it's some fairytale shit? that he saw you and couldn't help himself when there's so many chicks around? damn."

you clenched your jaw at his words, heat rising in your chest. he tried to drag you down, the way he always did when you two were together.

"shut the fuck up," riley pushes him away when he takes a step closer. "and watch your ugly mouth, dickhead."

jake ignores her again, keeping his eyes on yours. he looked disgustingly proud of himself. "you should ask him. or better yet—" he pauses mid sentence, his gaze flicking past your shoulder. his grin widens.

you frown confused, following his eyes. nothing special there, just a bunch of frat brothers that you haven't even spoken to before.

but...

then there's that one guy laughing more than the rest, completely unbothered. you know that face— he was the one mentioning nancy at the beach last week, always having some stupid shit to say. you also remember him from that one time when you first met nick and matt, and they invited you downstairs to hang out with all the frat brothers. this guy tried to 'warn' you from falling for chris, but chris was quick to shut him up.

jake looks back at you, smug as hell. "or maybe ask him," he said, nodding subtly in the guy’s direction. “bet he’s got a story or two.”

your heartbeat spiked. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

he shrugs, taking a step back, hands raised in mock surrender. "just sayin'. have fun, baby."

you stared at him, your stomach knotting tighter. that look on his face— it wasn’t just to piss you off. he knew something. and suddenly the guy across the kitchen had answers?

answers to what?

what exactly would he and that guy know? they weren't even chris's friends.

riley tugged your arm. "come on. he's just trying to get in your head again. let's go."

but you barely heard her. jake's words wouldn’t stop echoing in your head. you nodded, forcing your legs to move, but as you were pushing through the people, your chest felt heavier. riley was talking, muttering curses about jake under her breath, but you weren't listening. your eyes flicked back one last time. that guy was leaning against the counter now, surrounded by people. what the fuck could he know?

"fuck no," you mumbled, pulling your arm out of riley's grip and turning around, coming right back to the kitchen where jake was already grabbing another beer.

he saw you before you even said anything— that annoying smirk already spreading back across his face.

"welcome back."

"cut the shit, jake," you snapped, stepping closer. "tell me what the fuck were you talking about."

jake tilts his head, pretending to think as he twists the cap off his beer. "i'm not the one who owes you an explanation."

you rolled your eyes. "yeah, yeah, whatever. just tell me what you know— if you even know anything, 'cos i think you're bluffing."

"bluffing?" he raises an eyebrow. you nod, "yeah. you don't even know chris, what would you possibly know?"

he scoffs. "are you really this dumb? it doesn't take a genius to know sturniolo is a player. you'd be surprised what people are willing to say when they're drunk enough." he leans in, "bet everyone knows already besides you."

huh?

riley appears beside you again, glaring at jake. "we're leaving. don't waste your time with this creep."

but jake was already walking backward, smug as ever. "bathroom in two minutes,” he called quietly, voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music. "if you really wanna know."

riley looks at you like you’d lost your mind. "no. whatever this is, don’t.”

"it's fine,” you muttered, brushing her hand off your arm, lowering your voice. "he claims to know something, i just need to check it. gonna catch you in a minute, okay?”

"girl—"

"i'm fine. just go."

"no," she replies. "i don't trust him. i'll go with you."

"okay, whatever," you waved your hand dismissively, already pushing through people, riley following right behind. your pulse was hammering, head a mess of annoyance and confusion, but curiosity was louder.

the bathroom was thankfully empty when you and your bestfriend slipped inside. the music outside was muffled now, a dull thump through the walls. you shut the door behind you, leaned against it, and exhaled.

for a second, you just stood there, staring at yourself in the mirror, a wave of heat crashing over you at the thought of you and chris being here not so long ago and—

you shut your eyes, trying to push the memory away. his hands, his voice, his eyes—

god, his eyes.

you shook your head. get a grip.

what the hell were you even doing? waiting here because jake told you to? he was probably laughing about it right now. you almost did as well, scoffing softly to yourself. this was ridiculous. he probably didn't know shit and was just playing around, ragebaiting you.

"what if he's just playing around?" you ask, looking over at riley. "he's probably fucking bored. oh god, i can't believe i came here 'cos he told me to."

you pushed off the door, reaching for the handle again. screw this. you weren’t gonna just stand here like an idiot and waiting for him to—

but then you heard jake's voice. close.

you froze, hand hovering near the handle. he was right outside.

“…bro, repeat that shit you told me a while ago again,” jake was saying, his tone all sharp and taunting, like he was daring the other guy. "c'mon, i'm curious."

you frowned, barely breathing as you moved closer to the door, opening it just slightly to hear better, careful not to make a sound. riley moved closer as well, raising her eyebrow, but you just shrugged.

the other guy laughed— you recognized his voice instantly. that same laugh you heard in the kitchen, the same voice that talked about nancy, the one who tried to 'warn' you a while back. "ya mean 'bout chris? yeah, man, that shit funny as hell.”

jake hummed. "yeah, you gotta tell me this again, i needa good laugh."

the guy didn’t need much convincing. "so, we were at that party, right? like, three months back. i saw that girl—” he laughed again, and your stomach dropped even before he said it. "i know she's your ex, man, don't get me wrong, but she bad as fuck."

"yeah, i know. you're good."

"right, so i wanted her bad, bro, but she straight up shut me down. cold.”

you felt your pulse in your ears. you didn't even remember that really, but now as he's talking, it did happen. at the party when you met chris.

"anyway, later i'm out back smokin' with one of the guys, talkin' and still bitchin' about it, saying she's hot but impossible, right? chris was right next to us and dude laughs. says i just don't know how to play it."

jake's tone was lazy, interested. "and he does?"

the guy hums. "i told him even he wouldn’t get that. like, no chance. and he goes, 'i get whatever i want.’”

you could hear jake's quiet chuckle. "classic."

the guy kept going, his voice lighter, like this was just another story to him. "and i told him, bet. bet you can’t pull her. and he was, like, sure he could. he hadn’t even seen her up close yet, but man, he was confident. full of himself."

your throat felt tight, dry. you feel riley's eyes on you, but you're not even able to look back.

jake said something under his breath that you couldn’t catch, and then the guy added, "i told him if he lost, i wanted somethin' in return. just for fun, y'know? so i said, i wanna know about that mysterious chick of his. that nancy."

there was a short silence, almost like even jake didn't hear this part before. "who?"

“that girl,” the guy said. “he got all serious then. said there’s no nancy, whatever. but i was like, yeah, if you lose— and he cuts me off, says, ‘i never lose,' throws his joint away and goes back inside."

jake let out a low whistle. “so he actually went through with it.”

“yup,” the guy hums. “don't know how he did it, 'cos i swear she was so stubborn, but once he cracked her, he came to me and said he won, so i can get out of his business. then after a while i started seeing her at the frat. guess she doesn't even know."

they both laughed.

you didn’t. you couldn’t even breathe.

your hand tightened around the edge of the sink, knuckles white, stomach twisting. every word echoed in your head. you didn’t even realize you’d stepped back until your shoulder hit the wall.

riley's voice barely cut through the ringing in your ears.

"y/n—" she whispered, but you just shaked your head. everything inside you was burning.

you didn’t even think— just shoved the door open so hard it smacked right into someone’s face. there was a muffled curse, jake's or maybe the other guy’s, but you didn’t care, just already moving.

people turned as you stormed through the hall, the music pulsing somewhere far away. riley's voice followed you for half a second, but you were like in a trance.

finding chris wasn't so hard even in the stuffed living room. he was leaning against the wall, laughing at something one of his frat brothers said. matt, who was also at the party tonight, caught the sight of you first. his grin faltered when he saw how pissed you are, and he nudged his brother.

chris turned, smirk spreading across his face. "wassup—?"

you clenched your jaw, his face triggering you even harder. you grabbed the red cup out of his hand and threw it right in his face. the liquid hit with a sharp splash, dripping down his jaw and his shirt. before he could react, your hand came up again, meeting his cheek, the slap landing hard, echoing through the room. his head snapped to the side, his expression blank for a second. a few people gasped, some heads turning to see what's going on, his friends in the back letting out the classic “ooohh” under their breath, someone else laughing.

he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, slowly turning his head to look at you, annoyance clearly showing in his eyes. you were still breathing too fast, heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else out.

"go fuck yourself,” you spat, voice steady even though your hands were shaking.

then you turned, pushing back through the crowd as they parted, some people staring, but not daring to say a word. you didn’t stop until you were outside, the cold air hitting your face like a slap of its own. only then did your chest finally tighten, breath catching as the weight of everything hit you all at once.

you didn’t even realize how shaky your hands were until you dug through your pockets, looking for your cigarettes. once you finally found the pack, your fingers fumbled the lighter, the stupid thing slipping twice before you managed to spark it up, flame trembling the same way your hand did. you took a drag that didn’t calm you at all.

"are you outta your fuckin' mind?”

his voice cut through the noise behind you, low and sharp, and you didn’t even have to turn to know he was right there. you could hear the irritation in his tone, mix of disbelief and arrogance that always made your blood boil.

you turned slowly. chris was standing a few feet away, still by the doorway, shirt clinging damp to his chest, a smear of melted makeup running down his jaw. the white and red of his joker face was ruined, but somehow he still looked maddeningly good, and that made you even angrier.

"what the actual fuck was that?" he exhales hard. "fuckin' throwin' shit in my face? slappin' me like a fuckin' psycho?"

you laughed, taking another drag of the cigarette, trying to calm down. that throw him off for a second, but then he scoffs, jaw tightening. "don't fuckin' laugh at me." he steps closer, "the fuck's your problem?"

"you, clearly," you reply, meeting his stare.

"fuck did i do now?"

you scoff. "i don't even wanna look at you right now, 'cos i might actually throw up."

you feel the smoke burn your lungs when you inhale again. you drop the cigarette, crushing it under your boot.

"you ever do that shit again and—"

you chuckled humorless again. "you'll what? hit me back?"

he clenches his jaw, eyes flashing. "don't fucking put words in my mouth," he said sharply. "just don't ever do that again."

you stepped forward this time, close enough to feel his annoyingly good smelling cologne. "y'know what's funny? i actually felt bad for you. thought i get it now, why you are the way you are, but honestly? no. i don't fucking get it," you said, voice low but shaking. "genuinely asking, what do you get for being an asshole? a medal? validation from the guys?"

his irritation grows. "i haven't done shit to you."

"you're a fucking liar," you scoff.

"go on then, tell me!" he snaps. "what did i fuckin' do?!"

"you made a bet."

that shuts him up for a moment.

the silence between you stretched, heavy and suffocating. chris's brows furrowed, like he was waiting for the punchline.

"what?”

"you heard me," you bit out. "you know— me, you, your little frat buddy? the one you told you get whatever you want. ringing any bells?”

his jaw clenched, realization flickered in his eyes. "who told you that?"

you look at him in disbelief. "that's your response?"

"i'm just— what'd he tell you?"

"me personally? nothing. he didn't tell me shit," you said, your voice raising. "he just told jake and probably everyone fucking else which was enough for me to find out."

he exhales sharply, clearly annoyed, running a hand through his faint green hair. "that was months ago—"

"i didn't ask you to explain yourself," you cut him off. "i don't wanna hear that bullshit. i was just— y'know, i regret ignoring my fuckin' gut feeling. i knew something was up, 'cos why'd you be so fuckin' obsessed and persistent at the beggining?" you laughed again. "everything makes sense now."

"i didn't even fucking know you then!" he raises his voice as well. "i didn't even know who he was talkin' about, he told me your name, but i didn't know that you were you—"

"that literally doesn't change shit," you shot back. "you still made a bet. it could've been any girl, it's still fucked up to use anyone just to stroke your fucking ego. and i don't care if he wanted to know about nancy or not, it still isn't...—"

you stopped talking, lips pressing together after realizing you've just dropped that name. he caught it quickly too, his face changing, annoyance twisting into something else.

"what did you just say?" his voice was low, making your stomach drop.

but you didn't care anymore. you just kept going.

"i'm saying that her breaking your heart isn't an excuse to treat people like shit," you blurted out, words coming faster now, fueled by pure fury. you wanted to upset him. to make him feel how you feel. "'cause i got fucked over more than once and i'd never act like you do. honestly, i wouldn't be surprised if you were the bad guy in that story too and just blamed her."

low blow. you wanted to take it back the moment the words left your mouth.

but you couldn't show it.

"you're pathetic, chris," you add, wanna pass by him, but he grabs your wrist hard enough to stop you.

you glare up at him, for the first time seeing his eyes so dark. "say that again," he said through gritted teeth. "i dare you. you don't know shit 'bout her or me. you had no fuckin' right to go diggin' into that."

"let go of me."

"what i did isn't my proudest moment and i can admit that," he continues, voice still low. "wanna call me pathetic? fine. but what does that make you for falling f'me anyway? for letting me do all those stuff to you?"

the words hit worse than a slap, but you didn't flinch, even if every single nerve felt like on fire. him saying those words out loud just made them reality.

"i don't even like you," you said, trying to sound convincing.

he smirked, but it didn't even reach his eyes. they were blank. empty. "then you're a fucking liar too."

you scoffed, pulling your arm out of his grip. he lets you take a few steps back.

"you claimed not to be a coward," you said, "yet you couldn't even tell me what you did."

"and you're better?" he huffs. "pretendin' to be so uninterested and careless, yet still getting into my business?"

"i never said i'm careless," you reply. "you just wanted me to be 'cos it's more comfortable for you."

"what the fuck are you even sayin'? you were the one constantly reminding me it's just sex, probably just to feel better 'bout y'self, and now you're surprised that's actually all it ever was to me?"

"you're missing the point to make yourself look better as always! i know it was just sex, i'm not fucking stupid, i never wanted anything else! but unfortunately i started seeing more in you than whoever you pretend to be. actually thought you're not so bad and you just proved me wrong by being even worse. so congrats," you clapped your hands, backing away. "you did win."

you didn’t wait for his reaction, just turned around and walked determined, each step fueled by anger, by pride, by the need to get as far away from him as possible. your hands were still trembling, your jaw tight, chest heaving like your body didn’t know how to calm down. the further you got, the quieter everything became. the music from the house, the noise of people laughing, it all faded. and suddenly it was just you, your heartbeat, and that familiar sting pressing behind your ribs.

you hated that feeling. haven't felt it in a long time.

that slow, heavy drop in your stomach that always came after the yelling stopped. the same one you felt the night jake cheated on you— when you realized you weren’t even angry anymore, just felt stupid. like something had been taken out of you and left gaping open. the difference is, you kind of could've expected something like that from jake, but somehow you'd never think chris would get to his level. even if you were aware of how much of a player he is, there were moments when he was genuinely cool.

you tried to shake it off, to remind yourself that promise you made a while back, that no guy ever will make you feel bad again. but it clung to you anyway, crawling up your throat, making your eyes burn.

you wrapped your arms around yourself, muttering a quiet “fuck” under your breath. you weren't supposed to be in this position ever again.

and yet, here you are.

a/n: im lowkey not proud of this cuz i couldn't exactly put what i had in my mind into words but we ball ig 😖 lmk what yall think !!

[mattsdivaa-deactivated20260408]

I seen this TikTok and I gasped.

[sturnioz]

parachute by hayley williams vs. frat wedding. just leaving that there

what was the fucking reason for this omg