inspired by an edit i saw on tiktok.
DISCLAIMER!!- i do not support melanie martinez,i simply just saw an edit on tiktok and it gave me inspiration to make this fanfiction.
I DO NOT SUPPORT OR LIKE MELANIE MARTINEZ.
warnings: suggestive, age gap (legal), angst, forbidden attraction, school setting, slow burn
chris sturniolo (28) x genevieve (19), teacher!chris x teacherspet!genevieve
senior year, again. genevieve never thought she’d be back in the same hallway, same scratched-up desk, same stained ceiling tiles staring down at her like they were judging her too.
but this year… something was different.
room 2B. new literature teacher. new rumors.
“mr. sturniolo’s fine as hell,” some girl whispered to genevieve as they walked into class the first day. she didn’t care—until she did.
he looked nothing like what she expected. maybe mid-to-late twenties, messy brown hair that he clearly didn’t try hard enough to tame, rings on his fingers (that he shouldn’t be wearing in school, but god, it worked), and a stare so sharp it cut right through her the second she slouched into her seat at the back.
“you must be genevieve knight.”
his voice was low. calm. but the way he said her name was… deliberate.
“yeah,” she muttered, barely meeting his eyes. “lucky me.”
the first few weeks passed slow and heavy. she knew it was wrong—the way she stared a little too long when he leaned over the desk, how she kept raising her hand just to hear him say her name again, softer than he said anyone else’s.
she dropped her pencil box mid-class. loud crash, a few heads turned.
he was the first to kneel down beside her desk, long fingers collecting scattered pens without saying a word. when she reached for the last one, her hand brushed his.
for a second—barely a second—there was this electric stillness.
like the universe held its breath.
until a cough from the front broke it.
he cleared his throat, stood up quickly, and handed the box back without looking her in the eye. “be more careful.”
his tone was cool again. controlled.
but his fingers trembled.
genevieve started dressing up more for his class. lip gloss. heels. short skirts that barely passed code.
maybe she wanted him to break. maybe she wanted to break, too.
one afternoon, she stayed late. detention for skipping gym.
but it was him supervising.
“thought you’d be used to staying after hours,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice.
she rolled her eyes but didn’t answer.
“do you always look at your teachers like that?” he asked, not looking up from his papers.
“only the ones that make it hard not to.”
his pen paused mid-stroke.
he looked at her, really looked at her—eyes dark, jaw tight, knuckles white around the pen.
“this isn’t a game,ms.knight.”
after that day, things got weird.
his gaze lingered longer.
he stayed behind after class more, always “grading papers”.
and every time she walked past his desk, she could feel the tension thick in the air like a storm about to break.
because the truth was, she wasn’t some perfect student. she didn’t pass last year for a reason. she felt like a failure—until she saw the way he looked at her like she was something else.
and maybe, just maybe, he liked the danger.
detention. 4:47 PM. the classroom is empty. almost.
genevieve was late on purpose.
when she walked into room 2B, the door creaked a little too loud on its hinges, echoing through the almost-dark classroom.
sunlight spilled in slanted streaks across the desks, dust floating like tiny secrets in the air.
seated at his desk. sleeves rolled up. reading glasses perched on his nose.
he didn’t look up. but she saw the way his jaw clenched.
“you’re fifteen minutes late,” he said, pen scratching against paper.
“figured you’d like the quiet,” she replied, dropping her bag down way louder than necessary.
“you’re not here to test me, genevieve.”
his voice was flat. warning.
she sauntered over, pulling out a chair in the front row—closer to him than needed.
“you sure? you act like you don’t like it,” she said, voice sugary-sweet, laced with venom.
the kind that made your skin burn.
“you think this is funny?” he said. voice low now. deeper. darker.
“no. i think it’s cruel… that you won’t admit what this is.”
walked from behind his desk.
every step was quiet—but heavy.
now he was just a foot away from her.
“what is this, genevieve?”
his tone was biting. sharp like glass. but his eyes… they were soft. hurt. like he was fighting himself.
she tilted her chin up, defiant.
“and you’re the only person who makes me feel like i’m not a total fuck-up.”
she didn’t mean to say it.
but it spilled. raw. too real.
the way he said her name. it wasn’t scolding. it wasn’t warning.
like he was seconds away from giving in.
she stood up. chest brushing against his.
close enough to kiss. close enough to feel the war in both their bodies.
“if you’re gonna push me away,” she whispered, “do it now.”
his eyes flicked down to her lips.
his breathing got uneven.
he reached up, gently—barely—his fingers brushing a strand of her hair away from her cheek.
“go,” he said again, quieter.
she picked up her bag, not saying a word, and walked out.
and she swore—just before the door shut behind her—she heard the sound of his fist hitting the desk,hard.
late evening. school library. it’s raining. the lights are low. only one lamp on in the corner.
genevieve shouldn’t have been there.
she was hiding in the back corner of the library—just wanted to skip the stupid school-wide storm drill and sit alone. headphones in. hoodie up.
he looked stressed—paperwork in hand, hair even messier than usual, stormlight flashing against the sharp angles of his face every few seconds from the huge window behind him.
she stood up from between the shelves, heart pounding.
when he turned and saw her, he froze.
“…genevieve?” his voice dropped to a whisper, like he wasn’t sure if she was real.
because if she said anything else, her voice would shake.
“you’re supposed to be with your class,” he said, walking toward her, face serious.
they were inches apart now.
“you have to stop doing this,” he murmured.
“looking at me like that,” he said.
because thunder cracked and the lights flickered, and for a split second it felt like the world was holding its breath.
genevieve stepped closer.
“you want to kiss me so bad it’s killing you.”
his eyes shut like her words physically hurt.
his hand was at her waist, pulling her in—fast, like he’d been holding back for too long.
not soft. not slow. desperate. angry. forbidden.
he kissed her like he hated himself for it. like it was the last time he’d ever feel anything this real.
she gasped against his mouth, fingers curling in his shirt.
he backed her against the bookcase, hands on her hips, breath heavy and fast.
he pulled back suddenly, breathing hard, eyes wide.
“fuck,” he whispered, stepping away.
genevieve just stood there.
silent. dazed. wanting more.
“this can’t happen again,” he muttered.
but he didn’t sound convinced.
she walked past him—slow.
“then you better stay away from me.”
she looked back over her shoulder, eyes burning.
and then she disappeared into the storm.
things had changed since the kiss.
called her by her last name now.
never looked her in the eyes.
because she saw the way his hands still shook when she walked past.
she saw how tightly his jaw clenched when she sat in the front row.
so when she “accidentally” left her notebook in his classroom and came back after hours—she wasn’t surprised when he was still there.
his back was turned, eyes out the window, sunset bleeding across the whiteboard behind him.
“forgot my notebook,” she said, voice light, fake-innocent.
his voice was low. almost broken.
shut the classroom door behind her.
“do you really want me to?”
and that was all it took.
his hands were in her hair, her arms wrapped around his neck, lips crashing again like they were both starved.
his mouth moved to her jaw. her neck.
like her name alone was a sin.
she tugged him down into a chair, straddling him.
his hands gripped her waist, firm, like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.
“we shouldn’t be doing this,” he breathed into her skin.
his ringed fingers dragged under the hem of her shirt—just once. just enough to make her gasp.
his entire body tensed beneath her.
genevieve jumped off him, smoothing her shirt, fixing her hair like her heart wasn’t about to explode.
he shot up too fast—face flushed, breathing uneven.
“just—just a second!” he called out, voice cracking.
she bolted to the far side of the room, pretending to search for her notebook.
he opened the door a crack, blocking her from view.
“hey. sorry. i was just… helping a student with an essay.”
“oh,” the other teacher said. “your car’s still here. just wanted to make sure you weren’t locked in.”
they chatted for thirty more seconds that felt like hours.
then the door shut again.
“that can’t happen again,” he said, breathing like he’d run a mile.
just picked up her notebook, eyes low.
“then maybe next time… lock the door.”
and the smirk on her lips almost made him lose it again.
this took me i think 4 hours💔💔also guys i miss sabrina and nathan so much i wanna bring them back😓😓theyre my literal babies😕😕
@humpster35 @thighs4evan @stvni0l0 @kayskreativeideas @ilsaxdemi @babyt0matoes
asked to be tagged <3 — @snak3ssnap
