chris sturniolo x wife! reader | fluff fic, one-shot
"Okay, chin down just slightly— there. Now stay."
Chris adjusts obediently, one arm draped over the back of the chair, linen shirt doing that thing where it looks effortless because you spent ten minutes steaming it this morning. Sunglasses pushed back into his hair. The light's doing him favors right now, golden and low, and you're not above admitting that out loud.
"God, okay, that one's insane," you say, already scrolling back through the shots. "Like actually unfair."
"Stop." But he's smiling when he says it, ducking his head a little.
"I'm just saying, babe. Some people don't deserve to look like this on a Tuesday."
"You're gonna make me mess it up." He shifts in the chair, and there it is- the tips of his ears going faintly pink, the thing he does when you compliment him too directly and he doesn't have anywhere to put it.
"Mess what up, you're just sitting there." You crouch a little, angling for a different shot. "Look off to the side again—yeah, like that. Perfect. Actually stop, I need a second."
"You're so annoying," he mutters, but he's fighting a smile now, jaw tight with the effort of not grinning at you while you very obviously ogle him through a phone screen.
"I'm doing both." You take another one, then lower the phone just to look at him properly, sun catching the side of his face, hair pushed back messy under the sunglasses. "Seriously though. You look insane."
"Okay, we're done, give me the phone—"
"No! One more, babe please I almost had it—" You lift the phone again and he huffs, but he settles back into the chair anyway, chin tipping just where you'd asked, that same shy pull at the corner of his mouth he can't quite get rid of.
You get the shot. You always do.
"You're impossible," he says, standing to grab the phone from you the second you lower it, scrolling through the photos with the specific scowl he wears when he's pretending not to like something he clearly likes.
"You're impossibly photogenic; there's a difference."
He looks up at you, sunglasses sliding forward slightly, that pink still sitting high on his cheeks. "Shut up."
"Make me," you say, looking up at him with a smirk
⇢ taglist ⇢ main masterlist