Casual~ C. Sturniolo X Reader
casual~ c. sturniolo x reader
four times y/n was “okay” with “just casual” with chris, one time she told truth + one time he realized what he’d lost.
“my friends call me a loser
cause i’m still hanging around
i’ve heard so many rumors
that i’m just the girl that you bang on your couch”
“i just will never understand you guys,” one of y/n’s friends say, popping a chip in her mouth. “like, why are you sitting around waiting for chris?”
“because she’s obsessed with him, stupid.” another one interjects. they’re all sitting around y/n’s apartment, music playing from the t.v, snacks and drinks littering the table in front of them.
the four girls were waiting for the guys to finish setting up beer pong in the kitchen, and somehow it had turned into conversation about y/n’s less than conventional relationship with chris. go figure.
“i’m not obsessed with him,” she rolls her eyes. “and i’m not waiting for shit. we’re just casual, despite whatever you guys want to think.”
“right,” the third says, dragging out the ‘i’. she gives her a pointed look. “cause spending every waking moment together, sleeping at his house three times a week and looking at each other how you do screams casual.”
y/n laughs then, shaking her head. “it’s not that serious. can’t two people just enjoy each others times- and beds- without a relationship?”
“sure,” her best friend agrees. “two people can. you and chris though? i don’t buy it.”
“alright, fuck you guys.” y/n stands up from her place on the couch, throwing a pillow at one of her friends with a smile. “i’m going to check on what’s taking them so long.”
the walk to the kitchen is interesting, because honestly, it’s the first time y/n has really thought about her… whatever this thing with chris was from an outside perspective. it’d been a constantly changing few months, and she’d never stopped to think about how she felt in all of it.
sure, sometimes chris says stuff to her that has meaning underneath. sure, sometimes she calls him after a bad day because he always knows what to say. and sure, maybe the sex had gone from fun and wild to slightly intimate with eye contact that sometimes knocked the wind out of her. but that didn’t mean it had to mean anything different than what they wanted.
when she gets to the wall separating the hallway and the kitchen, she hears her name and freezes. “chris, bro, what the fuck is going on with you and y/n? i swear you guys are attached at the fucking hip.”
“basically his fucking girlfriend at this point,” matt, his brother, says and she can practically hear him rolling his eyes.
the girl in question finds herself waiting with bated breath for chris to answer. “fuck off, matt,” she imagines he flips him off. “she’s not my fucking girlfriend.”
it takes her by surprise the way it cracks her just a tiny bit. she knew he’d say it, knew that there was no revelation that would leave his lips. that was expected. what wasn’t expected, was how it made her feel. “we’re just fucking around. she’s a cool girl, but that’s about it.”
y/n thinks that bothers her even more than the previous answer. the words wedge their way into her stomach, wiggling around and filling her with a new, uncomfortable feeling. she thinks it may be disappointment, but she refuses to acknowledge it. chris finds her in the hallway before she can anyway.
“hey, we just finished setting up,” he sends her the most beautiful smile, one that her brain suddenly tells her he doesn’t mean. “i was just coming to find you.”
as soon as he’s in her space his hands are on her, snaking around her waist and pulling her in. he kisses her then, soft and sinfully slow. she throws the weird feelings into the fire and kisses him back just as deep.
when he pulls away, his eyebrows furrow slightly, and he gives her a concerned look. “you good?”
she’s surprised he can tell that something was bothering her. surprised he can read her face that well. it confuses her, which in turn brings those discomforting feelings right back. she looks at him, running her eyes all over him, taking him in. his bright blue eyes, the stubble framing his perfect jawline, the faded acne scar on his cheek. the moment is good, and she’s happy with them exactly as they are.
so, y/n runs her hands through his soft hair, placing a searing kiss on his lips. “i’m great. now let’s go. you’re about to get your ass kicked.”
she pulls him towards the kitchen as he laughs, stamping down the pesky voice in her head that tells her that something about this day will come back to haunt her.
-
“you said, “baby, no attachment.” but
we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out
is it casual now?”
“fuck, chris,” y/n throws her head back, fisting her hands into chris’s scalp as his tongue works against her. the rubber band in her stomach feels like its about to snap, and she knows she can’t hold on much longer.
“so good for me, baby.” chris purrs, voice sending shocks through her core. “no one could ever know you like me. no one ever will.”
he holds her hips down as she tries to wiggle away from the feeling, her finish clawing through her. “no one.” she babbles, basically slurring from the pleasure.
“only me, ma.” his fingers are pumping unforgivingly, making her black spots appear in her vision. “say it.”
“just you, chris- jesusfuckingchrist,” her words keep sticking to each other as they basically fly from her mouth, and when he flattens his tongue on her, the rubber band explodes. “only you.”
he doesn’t stop lapping at her until she comes down from her high, and she’s a shaking mess in his front seat. he’s whispering praises to her, telling her how good she is to him, tells her how she’s never looked prettier than when she’s coming for him, and tells her he could never find anyone better than her.
when everything is said and done and chris is back in the driver’s seat, raking his hands through his hair incessantly, y/n feels an ugly feeling creeping into her gut. it’s red hot and thick, turning her cheeks warm.
she looks at chris, who’s already looking at her. “you okay? need anything?”
her heart clenches a little. because how can they be “just fucking around” when he looks at her like that?
“yeah,” she says, despite her better judgement. “just tired.”
chris nods, leaning across the middle console and plays with a stray curl. she presses her cheek into his hand, kissing it softly. the look in his eyes sends electricity through her veins.
“well, can’t have my girl unrested.” he rubs her chin between his thumb and pointer finger affectionately. “mine or yours?”
the action makes her sick with feelings. “mine.”
and it’s all she has to say before he’s pulling out of the parking lot like a man on a mission.
fuck.
-
“dumb love
i love being stupid
dream of us in a year
maybe we’d have an apartment
and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier”
the light filters through the curtains of the bedroom, causing y/n to blink her eyes open. she stretches slightly, only to find herself wrapped up in someone’s arms.
chris snores softly, lashes kissing his cheeks. his hair is everywhere, falling in pretty tendrils on the pillow. in her sleepy state, the girl reaches out, raking her hands through them.
he groans slightly, pushing his head into her hand. “that feels nice.”
she scrapes her nails in his scalp slightly, warmth filling her at his gruff voice. “good morning.”
he finally opens his eyes,which are a pretty dark blue, coated in sleep. “it is now.” the smile he gives her is blinding.
chris’s hold on her tightens. there’s no physical way for them to get any closer, but he’s trying anyway. his right hand is rubbing her back while his left sits on the swell of her ass, playing with the band of her underwear. the touches make her melt into him further.
they lay there for what seems like forever, although if you asked them, it would never be long enough. when they do finally leave the warmth of their bed, y/n is watching from the doorframe as chris brushes his teeth.
“how come you aren’t ready?” he asks through white foam, spraying it forward. he giggles at that, shrugging.
she raises an eyebrow. “ready for what?”
chris rinses his mouth, patting his face dry. “i told you that my friends from back home are here. we’re going out with them.”
“no, you said you were going out with them,” there’s confusion etched into his face as you continue. “i didn’t think that meant i was coming.”
“why the hell not?”
the surprise she feels is jarring. “you want me to meet your friends from home?”
chris gives her a look like she just shot him. he walks up to her, ducking his head down and connecting their eyes. “first of all, i want you with me literally everywhere i go.” he kisses her chastely. “second, ‘course i do. i want everyone to know you’re mine.”
it feels like the world opens up then. there’s a faint hum going through her body, like chris had single handedly brought her back to life.
the smile that paints her face is so radiant, you’d think the sun had risen right here in this room. “okay. i’ll get ready now.”
before she leaves the room, chris smacks her ass, making them both laugh. she feels the hardwood beneath her feet, feels the kisses from this morning on her skin and feels the peace all around her-
y/n’s woken up by the sound of her phone going off. she’s disoriented, wiping away the sleep with stiff hands. when she comes to fully, she’s in her bedroom, alone, with a longing that threatens to knock her right back out.
that was new. dreaming of chris like that. the way every single touch, every single kiss and every single feeling was so painfully real. it was getting self destructive now, the way that she was coming to realize her feelings, but ignoring them every time.
she picks up her phone to look at the time, 1:47 AM, and the texts that cover her screen.
chris <3
1:04 am
wyd
chris <3
1:17 am
come over
chris <3
1:32 am
need you here
there’s something different in the way she feels while reading them. there’s no excitement, no thrill or pleasure that runs up her spine. there’s nothing but a hollow pit in her stomach, making her nauseous.
her mind reminds her ruthlessly of her dream; the way he held her so tight. the way he called her his, and the way it felt to be wanted by him. she knew that this was no longer casual, the way she wanted to be next to him all the time. they way she found herself right there whenever he asked. the way her heart sped up whenever he looked at her. it felt like she was in fucking quicksand, with every time she tried to ignore and drown out her constantly growing feelings for chris, the deeper she sank.
she wants to say no. she wants to turn around and go right back to sleep. to finally admit that this is hurting her way worse than she’s made herself believe. but she’d be kidding herself to believe that there was ever a way for her to deny anything chris wanted. he might not be hers, but she damn sure was his.
was asleep. give me 15 n i’m on my way.
she tries to convince herself she’s fine the entire drive over there.
-
“two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach
is it casual now?
…and i try to be the chill girl
that holds her tongue and gives you space
i try to be the chill girl
but honestly, i’m not.”
“i’m sorry?”
there’s a deafening silence in y/n’s head when the the words come out of chris’ moms mouth. like the loud buzz and click when turning off a static screen television.
she wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten into this situation. when chris brought it up to her, she was gobsmacked the exact same as now, mouth floundering helplessly.
“my parents are coming next week.” chris says from his place in front of the open fridge. he was rooting around for the last of the soda you kept in there specifically for him.
“i’m glad. i know you said you were missing them recently.” y/n is cooking dinner for the two of them, pasta, cause chris was craving it. she tries not to think of the implications of the scene.
“yeah, i was.”
he’s behind her now, looking over her shoulder at what she’s doing. “can you come over one night? i want you to meet them.”
y/n nearly chucks the pot off the stove with how quick she moves. “you want me to what?”
“holy shit.” chris backs up as she faces him. “you scared the fuck out of me.” he laughs, but she doesn’t return it. she’s just staring at him with wide eyes. something akin to hope blooms in her chest.
“why do you want me to meet your parents?”
chris looks at her like she just asked him to streak. his eyebrows are knitted together, and his eyes are searching hers. “why wouldn’t i?” he shrugs.
she thinks he can’t possibly know what he’s asking. he’s speaking about it so casually that she thinks she might explode. might crumble to the floor beneath his feet. as always.
“i dunno,” she says carefully. trying to find any indication in his face that they were more than she thought from his perspective. “i didn’t know that we were there yet is all.”
chris’ face flashes in recognition then. “ohhhh. no, no,” he laughs like she just told the most hilarious joke in the fucking world. “not like… not like that.”
the words actually make her start to lose consciousness a little. “like that?”
“yeah. not like as a girlfriend or anything.” he has no idea that he’s killing her slowly. “i meant because you’re one of my closest friends. like i know we’re doing this lowkey thing or whatever, but we’re still friends right?”
it would’ve hurt less if he shot her at point blank range.
she nods then, forcing herself to smile. the hope has been smothered just as quick as it started to grow. “yeah, of course. i’d love to.”
he kisses her sweetly before asking if she needs any help cooking for the sixth time today. she says no, and he tells her he’d be in her living room watching TV until she’s done.
it’s only when he left the room did she let herself fall apart.
she feels eerily similar to that moment right now. confused and slightly afraid of saying the wrong thing.
“i said, we’re going on vacation soon and we would love it if you came!” his mom repeats, her smile full and unwavering. “chris never shuts up about you, and you’ve been an absolutely light to be around tonight. we’d love to have you.”
“mom—“, chris groans from next to her in the couch, cheeks turning pink. matt and nick are laughing at him. “quit it. you’re scaring her.”
he didn’t protest. he didn’t shut it down. what the fuck does that mean?
“i wouldn’t want to impose—“ y/n starts, stuttering slightly. her palms are sweating and she feels nervousness pooling in her stomach.
“as if,” nick says. “it would be even better with you there.” matt silently agrees, nodding his head.
she has no idea what to do and chris is looking at her with the most indescribable look she’s ever seen in her god damn life. so she relents. “i’d love to. let me just make sure i’m free.”
his mom’s smile only grows, mirroring chris completely. she turns to nick to talk about something after it’s decided, and y/n’s head is left reeling. chris leans into her ear.
“you don’t have to go, you know.” he says. slowly, she turns her head to him. their faces are close, and she searches his eyes for anything to make her feel better.
“do you want me to?”
his answer is immediate. “of course.”
she knows the next question is heavy, for her at least, so she plasters a small smirk on her lips, raising her eyebrows. “catching feelings, christopher?”
he chuckles, tightening his arm around her shoulders. she envies his ability to go with the flow. to take things as they are. she can’t.
“you wish.”
it shatters her then, but she nuzzles further down into his side anyway. she laughs at the jokes the boys make, the stories his parents tell and the embarrassed blush on chris’s’ neck.
she asks questions when she should, nods and smiles at him when he looks at her. she does it all. for the rest of the night, she acts just like she should, plays her role as the nonchalant, down for whatever friends-with-benefits/situationship/casual relationship girl.
in reality though, she can tell it’s time. can tell by the way her heart constricts when he laughs. by the way she never wants to be away from him. by the way the thought of him wanting her to be so involved in his life is something she craves so bad. she loves him, and its hurting her.
it’s no longer casual, and it’s time to accept it.
-
“i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself
hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell.”
“chris?” y/n walks out the bathroom in one of his shirts and her underwear, towel drying her hair. the boy in question looks up from his phone. “have you seen my red bra with the lace trim?”
he raises his eyebrow. “i thought you had on a black one tonight?”
she rolls her eyes, throwing the towel into the laundry basket. “yes, christopher, i did. but you know the red one’s my favorite and i haven’t seen it in a while.”
he shrugs, pointing at his dresser. “oh yeah. you left it here when you were over here, one time. it’s in the dresser.”
for some reason, the words hit her like a freight train. she pauses, completely unknown to chris who’s still very much into his phone. when she gets to the dresser, she opens it, and sure enough, there it is.
something about it makes hysteria build in her body. she feels like screaming, feels like sinking into the ground to never be seen again. everything inside her that had been simmering inside her the last five months had finally bubbled over. she couldn’t take it anymore.
“what i am to you, chris?”
she didn’t mean for it to come out, but she’s glad it did. glad that she was finally done denying herself the truth that she rightfully deserved.
his head snaps to hers instantly, eyes wide. “what?”
“you heard me,” y/n walks to her bag that’s sitting on his desk chair. she shoves her legs through her shorts, standing straight and looking chris dead in the eye. “what the fuck are we doing here?”
for a moment, there’s nothing. she can tell the cogs in his head are moving a hundred miles an hour by the way his eyes are scanning her face. “we’re what we’ve always been. we’re hanging out. we’re friends.”
“friends,” she mutters bitterly. “right.”
chris sits up finally, turning his entire body towards her. his phone is tossed and forgotten. “where the hell is this coming from?”
“you just had me meet your fucking parents.” she says slowly, enunciating every word. “they fucking invited on vacation with your family,” the room is spinning for her. running past her in a flurry of color and heartbreak, “you keep my favorite fucking bra in your dresser, and you expect me to be okay with “we’re friends?””
chris can tell that something is wrong. sure anyone with functioning social awareness could tell, but he knows something is really, really wrong.
he stands, rounding the bed, coming face to face with her. he reaches out to touch her, and it’s the first time in the history of their entanglement that she steps away. the hurt on his face is palpable. but for once, y/n doesn’t care about how chris feels. or what chris wants.
“come here.” he says.
“no,” she shakes her head. she looks at him then, really looks. slides her eyes over the fluffiness of his drying hair, straight out the shower. the way his eyes sink in just a bit, contrasting with the bright blue they usually possess. the way his nose slopes and perfectly frames his face. the way his mouth, which has been so good to her, naturally leans upward and to the right, always faintly smirking. she takes in everything about him, snapping a photo in her mind so she can remember it after this moment.
y/n takes a deep breath. one she’s needed for a while. “i’m done with this.”
“what are you talking about?” she tries to convince herself it isn’t panic she hears. “stop being ridiculous and talk to me.”
“i am talking, chris. you’re just choosing not to listen.”
she walks to her bag, grabbing the things that she can see are hers. she spots her tank top on the ground, snatching it up and turning her back to chris quickly, stripping off her- his shirt. she thrusts it into his chest.
“i can’t pretend to be okay with this anymore. i tried, i really did. but it hurts. and i refuse to keep ignoring what i need to be what you do.”
the words smack chris right in the center of his forehead, the way it seems. that look, the one she can never fucking figure out, is right back on his face. it’s not her problem anymore.
he can’t think of anything to say. he’s terrified, but he doesn’t know how to fix this. so what comes out is, “you said you were okay with this. that this is what you wanted.”
y/n’s movements cease and she stares at him. they may be right in front of each other, yet there’s nothing between them but space.
“i was,” she admits. “but now i’m not. so i need you to look me in face right now and tell me what you want. cause i can’t do casual anymore, chris.”
when he doesn’t speak, her words fill the space. “i can’t wake up in your bed five nights of the week with you wrapped around me and call it casual. can’t hear you call me ‘your girl’ and pretend that when we fuck it’s casual. you can’t continuously treat me like your world and then back out when i expect it from you.”
she wishes he would say something, anything. instead, he stands in front of her, desperation haunting his features. she wants to give in, to tell him it’s okay. but she can’t. she won’t.
“i can’t give you a relationship, if that’s what you’re saying.” he runs his hair through his hair. he looks about as stressed as she feels. “i like you, but i’m not ready for that.”
y/n scoffs. it feels like a severed connection. like he just cut the tether between them with a hacksaw. “you can, but you won’t.” she smiles sadly, “and that’s okay. i don’t want you to do something that makes you unhappy.”
she walks to him then, gently placing her hand on his cheek. despite the cavity that’s being carved in place of her heart, she loves him. “i hope, on that at least, you feel the same.”
there’s really nothing else she needs to say, and she doesn’t really think there’s much else she can stomach to hear. so she removes herself from his space, and begins to try to remove him from hers.
he doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves. she doesn’t expect him to. she thinks that tells her everything.
-
y/n groans as she pulls into her unofficial, official parking spot in front of her apartment complex after work. her entire body aches, and she can’t wait to collapse in her bed.
her phone pings loudly, making her jump. she has that momentary adrenaline rush that she always does when she hears it, even after nearly a month. she wouldn’t say she was holding on to hope that he would text her, but the thought still lives in the back of her head.
it dies as quickly as it always does when she checks, though. her mom had sent her a link to some new recipe she wanted to try. she doesn’t even have the energy to heart the message.
she grabs her bag, trudging up the insane amount of stairs, grumbling about how she can’t wait for her lease to be up. it’s only when she turns the corner to the hallway leading to her apartment that she stops dead in her fucking tracks, body going numb.
there, in all his unfortunately sexy glory, is chris. he’s sitting on the ground outside her door, arms hanging off his knees. through the darkness, y/n can see her favorite jacket, a dark blue and white flannel type, and black, loose jeans hanging off his slouched frame.
she has no idea how long she stands there, unmoving and not uttering a word, but eventually, chris looks up.
he basically jumps up, straightening his clothes. “hi.”
she pushes her feet to move, but they don’t. “hi?”
chris scratches the back of his neck nervously. “sorry to just show up like this- fuck this is probably weird, right?- i just-“ he sucks in a breath. “i wanted to talk to you.”
“oh.” she says dumbly, eyes still wide. “yeah. okay.”
neither of them know what to say, or what to do. they’re just standing ten feet apart, staring like they’ve both seen a ghost. it’s only when y/n’s neighbor comes out of their apartment and she has to get out of the way does she move.
her feet carry her in autopilot, mind blank as she walks to her door. she’s so acutely aware of chris behind her as she opens it. it’s a funny thing, falling in love with someone. your body never forgets how they made you feel. she feels like chris must have a magnet underneath his clothes, the way she’s being pulled towards him.
once they’re inside and the lights are on, she sets her stuff down on the dining room table. she takes in a deep breath, steeling her heart before turning to him.
“so what’s up-“
“i miss you.”
they speak at the same time, but chris doesn’t falter when she gapes at him. “i’m sorry for being a fucking idiot. i’m sorry for hurting you.”
there’s not enough time for her to process anything before he’s walking towards her, slowly, like she might disappear if he makes a sudden move.
“what the fuck?”
it makes him smile slightly. he looks down for a second before closing the remaining space between them. he’s right in front of her now, and feels every hair on her body raise. his eyes are so honest, so open that it kind of takes her breath away. there’s a tiredness to him. like he hadn’t been sleeping well. his eye bags are deeper than before, eyes a little more sunken in. his facial hair is more grown out than she’s ever seen it, pronounced five o’clock shadow that makes him look well beyond his years.
“i always wanted more. i think i was just being a pussy. do you remember when i asked you to meet my parents?” she nods. how could she forget? “that night, i’d been watching you in the kitchen, dancing around and cooking. asking me to try the sauce every time you added something. kicking me out when i got too close or when i asked you if you wanted help again.”
he chuckles, like he’s thinking about his favorite memory. “i was looking at you and i knew that i was in love with you. it hit me like a fucking bus. so i asked you to meet my parents.”
y/n physically can’t do anything but stare at him like he’s telling her the secrets universe.
“when you said you “didn’t think we were there yet”…” he trails off, pink tinting his cheeks. “well, it scared the shit out of me. for so many reasons. i thought that meant you didn’t feel the same. then i got scared because i thought i was falling for you and this was still something you could replace.”
she doesn’t know what to say at the confession. doesn’t know how to feel either. it seemed beyond her comprehension that there was ever a time, during their entire relationship, that chris thought his feelings were unrequited.
“why the fuck didn’t you say something when i left that night?” she says incredulously. “you let me walk out of your house thinking you didn’t feel the same. do you know how bad that hurt?”
chris cringes at the reminder. “i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. i’ve replayed that night over in my head literally a million times wishing i could change it.” when he knows she won’t back away, he puts a hand on the space between her cheek and neck. “i do feel the same way, y/n. i always have. i’m sorry i was too chicken shit to tell you. and i’m sorry that you ever felt like you had to keep hurting yourself to make me happy.”
y/n feels her resolve slipping. looking at chris, standing in her apartment after a month of missing him, of wishing he would do exactly what he’s doing now has her heart beating a thousand miles an hour. that pesky little hope fly, the one she’d thought she squished and smothered rears its ugly head again.
above all though, she’s cautious. her heart is still tender from the break it took, and she can’t do that again. she gives him a lost look, like despite all he said, she’s still missing something.
he gets closer, lips a hair away. “ask me again.”
“ask you what?”
“what you asked me that night.” he snakes a hand up her hips to her waist. it’s searing, leaving fire in its trace. “ask me again.”
she thinks back, when she realizes, her eyes soften. “what am i to you, chris?” her voice is nothing but a whisper, scared to burst the bubble around them. the moment is so sensitive and soft, the juxtaposition of the original harshness of the question definitely not lost on her.
“you’re everything to me. you’ve been my girlfriend since probably the third week we started this thing,” her breath hitches. “you’re someone i never want to lose again.”
and when he kisses her, cause he just knows, y/n feels herself exhale. feels the pieces of her heart click back in place. it’s like find a lost puzzle piece under a couch cushion. like the first sip of ice cold water on a scorching day.
she grabs on to him tightly, losing herself in it completely. his lips chase her every way she moves, not standing to be disconnected. it’s messy and beautiful and right. it’s all the miscommunication, fear of the unknown and doubt circling down the metaphorical drain.
she pulls away to speak, but chris doesn’t let her up. she gives him one, two, three kisses back to back before she turns her head, laughing relentlessly. “chris!”
he doesn’t stop smothering her, placing his lips on the corner of her mouth, her neck, her cheek— everywhere he can reach.
“it’s been so long. you can’t expect me to not want you close, baby.”
her heart swells ten times in size, filling her ribcage beautifully. she grabs his face in her hands, raising a stern eyebrow. “i have to say something.” chris pouts slightly, and because she’s waited so long for this, and he’s looking at her like he could never live a second without her, she places one more lingering kiss to his full lips.
“i love you, too, by the way.”
the way his face lights up has even the brightest star withering in envy. he wraps his arms all the way around her body, pulling her impossibly closer.
who knows how long they stay there, heart to heart, finally, finally exactly where they should’ve been all along.
and when they lay close in y/n’s bed that night, skin to skin and deliriously happy, they both have the same thought.
fuck casual.
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a/n: jesus fuck this shit took me FOREVER. i hope yall like it cause i spent so long tweaking it and rewriting some parts cause i wanted it to be perfect. this song also is embedded in my bones and i’m obsessed with it so bad. how we feeling cherrie nation!!!
also yes before y’all start… number neighbor!ten will be up with in the hour!! i wanted to post a bunch cause i’ve been working so fucking much and finally had a real day off. back at it tomorrow doe </3
anyways love yall so bad i hope u like it 🥹
More Posts from Bellasashylegs and Others
A little add on to my last thought
How could you be best friends with someone and then not even a month after they break up with their boyfriend you get with them. It just doesn't make sense to me. How could you know someone and trust them for 2 years, put two years of effort into this friendship just to throw it all down the drain over a guy. I just don't get how people could do that to other people. Like sure I liked him but I'm putting myself off because I respect her and I'm good fucking friend.
I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭
—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k
Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor.
Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch.
They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now.
“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.”
You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere.
“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.”
He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.
He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless.
But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.
“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.
He has to calm you down.
Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it.
He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory.
“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly.
You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.”
“Did you want the straw?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?”
“Yeah.”
You can’t be blamed for short answers.
There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways.
When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods.
Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead.
He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed.
“Lean back, beautiful,” he says.
Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask.
“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.”
Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him.
“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly.
You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes.
You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t.
“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours.
His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand.
“Please don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically.
He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now.
JUST FELL TO MY KNEES OUT OF HAPPINESS
hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)
u r so awesome don’t worry!!
cw canon typical violence and injury
Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close.
“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath.
“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch.
“Hurting?” he whispers.
“Half as bad as it was yesterday.”
“I have a bad feeling.”
“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again.
The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek.
—
“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.”
“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.”
“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.”
“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.”
It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.”
The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours.
A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position.
“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?”
You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.
“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.”
You wait.
Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.”
That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question.
Your hand strays up to your face.
“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies.
“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once.
“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.”
You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward.
“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically.
“Bad?” you whisper.
“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.”
“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask.
“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would.
You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt.
“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.
“Did you get him for me?” you ask.
Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”
You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw.
“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises.
“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”
“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”
“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.
Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”
✯𝐅𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮✯
chris x earth boho!reader
IN WHICH…. Chris and Y/n experience their first time with each other.
WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! Making out, oral (f receiving) fingering, sex, insecurities mentioned, cockwarming,
pt.1 pt.2
Y/n was pacing her room, nothing but anxiety fueling her movements.
Chris was coming over to spend the night and she planned on taking the relationship further. Their relationship was perfect, and although Chris was content waiting until she was comfortable doing anything sexual, she could tell he wanted to. The lingering touches to her waist, the make-out sessions that got a bit steamy before she pulled away, and the way he would look at her late at night when they were going to sleep.
It wasn’t that Y/n didn’t want to do anything with Chris, she definitely wanted to, it was just the paranoia from her last relationship holding her back.
Her ex wasn’t exactly the nicest, always talking about her body and comparing her to other girls. He would say she was too loud in bed, usually using a pillow to cover her face, he even called her disgusting for squirting.
As much as her mother tried to make her feel better and give her the whole woman empowerment talk, y/n just couldn’t bring herself to have sex with anyone ever again.
That was until she met Chris.
She had told Chris everything that her ex had done and said to her. He was very understanding as to why she was standoffish to the thought of doing anything sexual at all and promised her that he could wait until she was comfortable.
And tonight, she’s comfortable…Or she thinks she is.
Her mind is swarming with the thoughts of not being good enough for Chris or her body not looking right. She was so busy pacing her room she didn’t hear Chris walking into the house.
“Ma?” He calls out, making her freeze in place. She quickly closes her door and locks it, running around her room to find clothes. “Just a minute!”
She find a crème and green nightgown and quickly throws it on over the lingerie. She gives one last look in the mirror before swinging the door open. “You good?” He asks noticing her labored breathing.
“Y-yeah-'' she clears her throat before continuing. “Yeah, I just got out of the shower and wasn’t dressed.”
Technically that wasn’t a lie.
He nods before moving deeper into the room, setting his bag down by her closet. “Sorry for being early, we wrapped up filming earlier than we thought.” He takes his hat off and lays down on her bed, sighing out and closing his eyes as the satin sheets comfort him.
He opens his eyes and looks over and sees her looking at him. “What did you want to do? I know it’s late but we could watch a movie or something.”
“Yeah, that’s fine…Can you pick a movie while I go grab a water?”
He nods and asks for a Pepsi as she walks out the room. She arrives in the kitchen and grabs a glass, filling it with ice.
“You’re fine, everything will be ok. There’s no reason to worry, everything will go smoo-Ok what’s going on?” She jumps and turns around seeing Chris with his arms folded.
“I thought you were picking a movie?” He notices how she’s looking everywhere but him, causing him to walk closer.
He wrap his arms around her waist and pulls her in, “talk to me, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Not-Do not saying nothing. You’ve been acting weird and I know something is up. Did something happen?”
She bites her lip and plays with the cup in her hand. Chris stays silent, waiting for her to get her thoughts together before speaking.
“I-I had something planned tonight…But I’m a bit scared.” He nods along to her words.
“Ok, what did you have planned?”
It takes a moment for her to answer, her hands getting shaky. “Hey, calm down. Speak to me mama, you know you can speak to me.” He kisses all over her face, noticing that it’s warm.
“C-can we just lay down? Please?” Everything in him wants to say no, not until she tells him what’s wrong, but he knows he can’t push her. It’s better to let her come to him when she’s ready to talk.
“Ok, come on. I turned on your favorite.” She smiles softly and quickly finishes filling her cup with water, grabbing his Pepsi in the process.
They walk back to the bedroom and crawl into bed. As she gets comfortable, he notices her nightgown rising up, showing a sliver of the green butterfly print covering her lower half. He diverts his attention and crawls in next to her, pulling her close.
He starts to movie and settles into the bed, his head resting on top of hers.
The movie flies by, Y/n not even paying attention as the credits roll on the screen. She was stuck in her head, asking herself if she should make the move. “You want to go to bed now?” She jumps and turns to Chris who’s looking at her with those same bedroom eyes.
She doesn’t know if it’s intentional or not, but it’s enough for her to make up her mind.
“Yeah…I’m going to go to the bathroom first.” He nods and grabs his phone as she walks over to the en suite.
She stands in front of the bathroom mirror and stares at herself, slipping off the nightgown.
“You’re beautiful, any man would be lucky to have you.” She repeats her mother’s words to herself. She sprays a bit of her perfume and walks out the bathroom, thanking whatever gods there are that Chris turned off the lights.
She crawls back into the bed, facing away from Chris. Like clockwork, he turns to her and pulls her closer, only to stop when he feels her skin.
He sits up a bit, looking down at the silhouette of her body. She swallows harshly and turns on her back, looking up at him.
It was dark in the room, no light of any kind peeking through. It was a blessing for one, and a curse for the other.
“C-can I turn the lights on?” Chris questions, he was eager to see if his mind was playing tricks on him, wanting to know if his girlfriend was really in bed with nothing on.
“Lamp.” She mumbles softly, pulling the blankets over her chest. He leans back and pulls on the lamp cord, a soft hue of orange illuminating the room.
He notices she pulled the blankets up, her knuckles tight as she holds it against herself. He reaches forward and gently pulls it down.
His mouth runs dry when he sees the lingerie covering her chest. It wasn’t sultry by any means but it was definitely a turn-on.
“D-do you like it?” She’s nervous, he hasn’t said anything to her at all, just staring at her chest.
“I love it, you look beautiful, gorgeous…Is this what you had planned? You wanted to have sex tonight?” She nods softly.
“Are you sure? You know I have no problem waiting. Don’t do this for me, do it for you.”
“I-I’m sure…”
That’s all Chris needed to hear before his lips were pressed against hers. It wasn't a harsh kiss filled with lust, no, it was something more.
It was soft, tender, delicate....Loving.
He crawls over her and deepens the kiss, his hands trailing up and down her thighs. He pulls away from her lips and dips his head into her neck, peppering kisses along her jaw and lightly biting down on the soft brown skin of her neck.
Y/n can feel her heart beating out of her chest, her breathing labored as Chris works on her neck. With each mark he leaves she can feel herself getting wetter and wetter.
She bucks her hips making Chris smile to himself, “patience mama, this night is about you.” He trails his kisses from her neck down to her chest.
He goes to take the top off but she quickly grabs his hands, “I-I want to keep it on, I’m so-“ She's cut off by Chris’s lips finding their way back to hers.
“Don’t apologize, this is about you. Ok?” His eyes are boring into her. She nods and he goes back to peppering kisses all along her body, taking time to admire each body part.
“Beautiful, each part of you.” He mutters softly.
Just like the butterfly on her chest, she feels hundreds of them in her stomach, swarming around and making her feel warm,
Making her feel loved.
He keeps going, getting lower and lower until he gets to her pelvis. He toys with the hem of her bottoms, eyeing the green material with hungry eyes.
“Can I take these off?”
She hesitates.
She wasn’t used to people going down on her, her ex hated it. He would put up a fight, call it gross, and demand that she blew him instead.
But Chris was different, he worshiped her as if she was a goddess. He worshipped her like she was the reason for his breathing.
“C-can we turn the light off?” She asks meekly.
He stares at her for a few seconds until he moves. He grabs the green duvet before throwing it over his shoulders. “What are y- You want the light off because you’re uncomfortable with me seeing you. I’ll use the blanket so I won’t have to see you, or at least all of you that is.”
She thinks about it for a few seconds before nodding, agreeing to the compromise.
He adjusts himself on the bed, leveling himself with her pelvis. He loops his fingers through the waistband of her bottoms, slowly pulling them down.
He doesn’t dive right in as much as he wants to, he takes his time kissing the inside of her thighs, leaving his mark.
He pulls away from her thighs and hovers over her mound, his breath sending a shiver up her spine.
He plants a soft kiss on her folds before licking a long strip. She sucks in a sharp breath and clenches the sheets in between her fingers.
He closes his eyes and moans as he laps at her folds, shaking his head back and forth. He was eating her out as if he was starved, like he hadn’t eaten in months. Drinking her juices as if he was dehydrated, and she was the golden fountain.
He grips her thighs and pulls her closer, indulging in his newfound favorite meal. He could do this forever if she let him. She was sweet and bitter at the same time, almost like a strawberry freshly picked off a bush.
He wraps his lips around her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the button. She’s biting her lip, trying not to let any sound out.
He trails a singular hand down the back of her thigh before slipping two fingers inside her, curling them as he moves them in and out.
That was enough for her to snatch the blankets away, immediately holding eye contact with him. She whimpers and throws her head back in ecstasy, her legs beginning to shake.
He pulls away from her clit and rests his head on her thighs, watching as his fingers disappear inside of her.
He speeds it up, loving the way her chest rises and falls rapidly all because of his fingers. He can tell she is close, her squirming becoming more frequent and her whimpers getting closer together.
He uses his thumb to swipe over her clit, drawing endless figure eights. He leans over her body, capturing her lips with his own, “Come on baby, let go for me.” He encourages.
He curls his fingers one last time before her legs snap shut and she closes her eyes, her orgasm hitting her full throttle.
“That’s it,” he coos, kissing all over her face, his finger still working her through her orgasm. She opens her eyes, the orbs glossed over with a look of love that has Chris wanting to please her even more.
“Can you handle one more for me?” As much as he would love to keep going, he’s putting her needs before his. He could live without actually going all the way with her tonight, he would do it for a million years if it meant her being comfortable.
She nods, already going for the band of his sweatpants. He pushes her hands away and pulls her into another deep kiss, allowing his tongue to dip into her mouth. As the two make out feverishly, he manages to pull his sweats and boxers down.
He pulls her a bit closer sliding a pillow underneath her back before sliding his cock in between her folds, using her slick as a natural lubricant. She whimpers against his lips, finding herself loving the way his dick feels nudging against her clit.
He lines himself up, and slowly pushes in, his head falling to her shoulder as her walls clamp down on him. He groans and grips the back of her legs tightly, clenching his eyes shut.
Y/n is the same way, her jaw slack as no sound comes out from the euphoric feeling of the intrusion. She grips his back, her nails leaving crescent-shaped indents on his milky skin.
“S-slow, please?” She finally mutters. Chris swallows before slowly rocking his hips, moaning lowly at the friction.
He keeps a steady pace, not wanting to go too fast, and unintentionally hurt y/n or make her uncomfortable. “Fuck, you feel so good mamas.” He praises, slowly lifting his head so he could see her.
She looks beautiful.
Her eyes are clenched shut, the crow's feet that he loves so dearly prominent as day. Her nose is scrunched as pleasure rakes through her body.
However, the only thing Chris doesn’t like is her silence.
Like it was stated before, Chris knew everything her ex said to her about their sex life. He knew she was insecure about her moans and her body because of him. He knows she hates violence but he swears if he ever catches the guy he's going to hurt him.
“Let me hear you, let me hear those pretty sounds.” He begs. She opens her eyes and shakes her head, soft pants coming from her mouth.
“Come on baby, I gotta know I’m doing my job right of worshiping you.” He urges.
Y/n doesn’t budge, still too scared to make any noise despite wanting to.
Chris decided to take matters into his own hands. He sits up so he’s on his knees and bends her legs back as far as they can go, her calves draping over his arms.
Thank god for yoga.
He pulls out almost all the way, before snapping his hips at an angle that finally draws out the noises he’s been craving to hear.
Y/n arches her back and lets out the loudest pornographic moan her body can muster, her eyes going crossed in the process.
“There it is.” He grunts. He keeps his original pace, just going a bit harder to keep drawing out the angelic sounds flowing from her mouth.
This new angle allows him to go deeper, deeper than just her cervix. It’s as if he reached her stomach, her lungs, her soul.
The two hold eye contact as he continues to plow into her. He notices her mouth forming words but nothing comes out. “What is it baby?”
“Fa-ster.” She manages to moan out. Chris doesn’t have to be told twice, whatever she wants, she gets.
He speeds up his pace, Y/n's moans only getting louder, encouraging him even more. At this point her wooden bedframe is slamming against the wall, surely leaving scratches in the process.
Their moans intertwine, bouncing off the walls and creating pitch-perfect harmony. It was as if they were two instruments brought together to make a symphony.
It was harmonic.
“Oh fuck- I love you!” She moans out, her back arching as he hits that special spot inside of her.
“I love you too mama, so much.” He leans forward and brings her into a passionate kiss. She lets out a drawn-out mewl, her hands flying towards his arms.
His thumb finds its way back to her clit and she gasps, quickly trying to stop him. She was close to orgasming, that was fine. What wasn’t fine was the fact she knew she was going to squirt.
She could feel it forming, that white-hot coil ready for release, ready to burst.
“W-wait I- I know baby, let go for me. It’s ok.”
It’s as if he controls her, her body listening to his demands. She tries to close her legs but Chris stops her, watching as her juices splash in between them.
Chris groans at the sight, falling forward and nuzzling his head in her neck as he delivers three more pumps before letting go.
He stalls deep inside of her, decorating her walls with a nice shade of pearlescent white. He goes to pull out, but she stops him, holding him close.
“Stay...Please?” She mutters timidly. He stares at her for a few seconds, his brows furrowed in confusion before he understands what she wants. He nods and settles back down, holding her close.
He lightly runs his hand along her body, whispering sweet words into her ear.
“You were so good baby, perfect.”
“Gorgeous, like a goddess”
“Made just f’me.”
The two lay there, tangled in each other's arms, their souls intertwining and merging into one.
Fading into each other.
im sorry if yall tired of chris x earthyboho! reader but atm this is all i can write so this what yall getting 😭
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some photos i took from emerson college’s encampment for palestine. most of these were taken only a few hours before the boston PD attacked hundreds of protestors and brutally arrested 108 students, most of whom were poc, jewish, and/or queer.
anyone who spent any amount of time in the encampment will tell you just how much it brought us all together—there was always food, music, arts and crafts, and hundreds of messages of support written in chalk.
after the BPD was done brutalising us for peacefully protesting, they power washed down the walls of the encampment—all of these messages are gone. theyre trying to erase what happened, but they’ll never truly be able to. everyone saw, and everyone will remember.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ BACK TO DECEMBER MASTERLIST
[CURRENTLY DISCONTINUED]
↳ summary: in which chris navigates his hockey career with his number one cheerleader by his side, no matter what, or so he thought. when the going gets tough for y/n, navigating having a superstar boyfriend and another surprise on the way, she doesn’t know if she can handle the pressure anymore.
↳ pairings: boston bruins!player chris sturniolo x fem!reader
↳ warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions and descriptions of violent fights, verbal arguments, unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, comments from the other team and hecklers, open ending, angst, angst, angst, and more angst. each chapter will be introduced with the corresponding warnings.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
↳ 0.01: SAYIN’ SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT: in which y/n is greeted by a sudden revelation on the night of chris’ most anticipated game, the one that determines whether or not the bruins get into the playoffs and she’s left apologizing for the night that caused it all.
↳ 0.02: SWALLOWIN’ MY PRIDE: in which chris is forced to swallow his pride as he comes to terms with the news that y/n has shared, realizing it’s not just her fault. however when he mentions the alternatives, he fails to see how much it hurts his girlfriend.
↳ 0.03 BUSIER THAN EVER: in which chris busies himself with training and practices, not realizing that it’s driving a wedge between him and y/n, leading her to believe that he’s hiding his true feelings about telling the world about their child.
↳ 0.04 SMALL TALK, WORK & THE WEATHER: in which y/n turns to a friend after everything that’s happened, and chris feels like she’s shutting him out, so to the best of his efforts he sets up a date night at home and things turn serious as the reality of everything sets in.
↳ 0.05 THE DARK DAYS: in which chris misses an extremely important appointment and y/n has had enough, the pressure of their arriving child getting to both of them. and a nasty fight leaves them sleeping in separate beds for an indefinite amount of time.
↳ taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @33sturniolo @heartz4chris @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi
© 55STURN 2024 [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]
Israel is disgusting.
Did you see the video that shows where the ambulance that went to rescue 6 year old Hind was from the car she was trapped in?
Mere meters! Meters! The paramedics would have been able to see the car from where the ambulance was before it was struck by Israel.
The paramedics were there. Hind was moments away from being rescued. Israel is fucking monstrous. They lured paramedics in so they can kill them before killing the child.
There are no words to describe how inhumane Israel is. Fuck Israel.
Lacey 🎀 — Matt Sturniolo x Fem!Reader PT2
PT 1 <- Read this one first lovelies
Word Count: 3k
Contains: Pregnancy, mentions of sex, Matt being a pervert, A very emotional
woman
Remember when I said I wasn't writing pregnancy?? | lied....
PS: If you like pistachio ice cream you're getting flamed... sorry not sorry
Matt tells you too often to let him do his job, but you don’t listen to him. Maybe you will after a long work shift, but night after night, you wake up to his daughter crying, mumble an “I’ll get it,” and hush the girl back to sleep, clad in your boyfriend's shirt.
The routine you two had mirrored that of a married couple. Matt wanted it to be his job entirely, but you’d convinced him that whoever gets up first puts Lacey back to sleep. Matt never gets up first.
You walk back into Matt’s room holding your shirt. “She threw up on me.” You purse your lips, peering down at the spit stain with a sour look on your face. Matt laughs. “She wouldn’t have thrown up on you if you let me get her.”
You sigh, peeling off your (Matt’s) shirt and grabbing another from his drawer. “I like getting her,” you hum, sinking into bed again. Matt pulls his arms around your torso, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “You won't like it after another year of it.” Butterflies fill your stomach.
Another year. Another year with Matt.
…
The grocery store was the last thing on Matt’s long to-do list for the weekend.
In the morning, before you realized how many things Matt planned for you to do, you agreed to walk. You regretted that deviation now after nearly footing yourself across the city and back. Your temper was short, and your feet were sore.
Matt presses a kiss to your cheek, noticing your tired eyes. “We just have to get baby food, then we’ll go home,” he mutters. You hum, mumbling out a “fine” and entering the supermarket.
The first thing you notice is how long the checkout lines are, and you groan. Matt notices this and laughs. “You get in line, and I’ll go get the food,” he says. You nod, letting out a moody sigh and taking steer of Lacey's stroller, heading to the checkout line.
You stay put in line, rocking Lacey's stroller back and forth, trying to keep the bustling ambiance of the store from waking her up. You fail, but continue to rock her stroller, this time in an attempt to put her back to sleep.
“You shouldn’t rock her like that. Babies get motion sickness too easily,” an old lady, presumably in her late forties, interjects, approaching you.
You shoot her a pursed smile, slowly halting the stroller rocking. “She likes it when I do it,” you quip.
She peeks at Lacey, who rests her head against the stroller's side, a small string of drool escaping her mouth while she clutches the stuffed bear you’d bought for her.
“She’s adorable, how old is she?”
“One and a half,” you reply curtly, not generally enjoying your conversation with the lady because it always leads to you awkwardly confessing you're not her mother and that you're not married to her father. Not to mention, this woman seems particularly judgy.
The lady nods, encouraging you to go further into detail about Lacey, something you don’t particularly want to do.
Matt approaches from the infant aisle to your ease, clutching Lacey's food. “Hey babe,” he smiles.
You let out a sigh of relief as he approached. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it's making excuses to get out of conversing with others. You wave him over, “Hey,” you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. His eyes dart between you and the woman, asking who she is with his gaze. “This is her father?” She asks, returning to Matt. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You clutch the bar of Lacey’s stroller and start forward, trying to avoid questions you know are coming:
“How long have you been married?”
“Was the pregnancy terrible?”
“How’d you choose her name?”
All questions you’d gotten—all questions you couldn’t answer.
“It was nice to meet you, ma’am,” you smile. Her eyes glance at your hands as you grip the stroller bar, your left hand specifically. She was looking for a ring. She was looking for a ring and didn’t find one because you weren’t married to Matt nor were you Lacey's mother. The lady's face soured; she paused lightly, pointing to your bare ring finger. “You two aren’t married?”
You sigh awkwardly, stopping dead in your tracks and biting your lip. Who does this lady think she is? “No, we—“
Matt interrupts you, snaking an arm over your shoulder. “Our rings are at the cleaners,” he bites, “The rings are being cleaned because me and my wife have obviously been married for a long time.” He gestures to Lacey as he says this. You flush at Matt’s statement but hold eye contact with the lady, who is now also flustered. She grudgingly spits out an apology. Once she’s out of earshot, you laugh and turn to Matt.
“So, Matthew, when were you going to tell me we’re married?” You smile, and Matt shakes his head. “I have never in my life met a bitchier fifty-year-old woman,” he jeers. You laugh, and then your expression fades to a serious one. “No swearing in front of Lacey!” You chide, raising a finger to his lips. Matt bites his lip playfully, “She’s not sleeping?” You shake your head in response, “She woke up when you went to get the eggs.” Matt leans over the stroller and looks at a very awake Lacey. Once she realizes his attention is on her, she smiles and holds her teddy out to him. “Hi, baby,” he coos, ruffling her thin hair.
You and Matt move up in line, close to the section where last-minute candies are displayed in the store's desperate attempts to drain consumers' money. Fortunately for the business, you are one of those consumers. Matt watches you as you pull a chocolate bar out of the display box, then another, and another, and another.
“Can you buy me these?” You ask, holding the sweets up to him. Matt laughs. “Yes, I’ll buy you those.”
…
“You know, that woman in line was so rude!” You pout, bringing up the incident for the sixth time as you reach Matt's door. Matt laughs, “Why are you letting her get to you this much baby?”
You frown. “I don’t know…” You pause for a second before continuing your rant. “She could’ve just kept her mouth shut! There was no reason she had to ask so many questions about our personal lives,” you huff, “And her perfume smelled bad.”
Matt chuckles at your pettiness and keys open his apartment door. “You have the perfume she was wearing,” he grins, creaking the door open. You step inside.
“No, I don’t. That perfume smelled horrid.”
“It’s the second one to the right on your perfume shelf. You wore it on our first date.”
You blink at his persistence but shake your head. No way you’d wear a perfume that pungent. “Come here,” Matt says, walking to your shared room. You follow behind him, and he points to a small vanilla bottle. “That’s the perfume that lady was wearing,” he points with a smirk on his face. You grab the perfume and spray it on the ball of your wrist. When you bring your arm up to smell it, your eyes widen. It was the perfume the lady was wearing, and the smell made you want to hurl.
You gulp back the contents of your stomach and push Matt to the hall. “Go get Lacey; she’s still in her stroller,” you blurt.
Matt nods and leaves the room. Once he’s out of sight, you make a beeline for the bathroom and empty your guts into the toilet.
You grip the toilet's edges and throw up your breakfast and lunch… to the smell of vanilla.
You stand and flush the toilet, contemplating what the hell just happened. You find the sink and wash your hands and wrists, making sure the soap erased all of the vanilla scent.
You stare at yourself in the mirror. That perfume was one of your signature scents; you wore vanilla and daisy perfume. You’d been leaning into newer scents lately, but there was no way the smell of vanilla would ever make you hurl.
Your train of thought is interrupted by an energetic Lacey. She stomps into the bathroom and grabs your damp hand, leaving you to forget what you were thinking about.
“Show time! Show time!” Lacey repeats, pulling you out of the room with as much force as she can muster. You laugh and walk out with her, and Matt smiles from the sofa when he sees you tread into the room. “We’re watching Tangled,” he announces, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. He pulls Lacey into his lap, and you nestle your head into the crook of his shoulder.
“Whose choice was it?” You joke. Matt smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple, then one to Lacey's. “It was the choice of this little princess,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around Lacey's torso and hugging her close to him.
Lacey falls asleep after the second musical number. That’s when you and Matt stop watching the movie, given it was Lacey’s favorite and you’d seen it several times.
Matt moves Lacey to her crib and meets you in your shared room. Too tired to shower, you peel your shirt off, ready to switch into a nightshirt but pause. “Matt… look at me,” you say, turning to face him.
Matt immediately raises a brow. “Not like that!” You huff, “Stop being perverted!”
Matt raises his hands in innocence. “You're standing there without a shirt on telling me to look at you, and I’m the perverted one?”
You feel your cheeks flushing and bite your lip. “No, like— do you notice anything different?”
“You look beautiful, Y/N.”
”Yeah, but—“
Matt cuts you off. “Your body is perfect exactly like that.”
Your face scrunches in annoyance. “No—Matt! Do my boobs look bigger?!” You exclaim.
Matt's eyes widen at your outburst. He takes the opportunity to study your chest (for far too long) before nodding, “Yeah, they do look bigger.”
He approaches behind you and cups your tits with his palms, giving them a slight squeeze. You wince at his motion, sucking your teeth. “Fuck. Sorry! Did that hurt?” Matt immediately drops his hands.
You shake your head, “No, I don’t know why I did that,” you fabricate, lying through your teeth.
Matt pecks butterfly kisses down your neck. “Let's go to bed.”
…
Lacey rarely disagrees with you. She disagrees with Matt plenty, but when it comes to you, you're her biggest role model.
She does not want to leave the park. You don’t know how to get her to leave the park without putting your foot down, and something you're incapable of doing is being stern with Lacey.
“Lace, c’mon, let's go to daddy.”
“No.” Lacey crosses her arms. ”Hunny, it's time to go home.” You try.
“No.”
“Lacey—“ The toddler ignores you, and your lip starts to tremble. Where is this flood of emotion coming from?
You try one more time before Lacey’s constant rebuffs break you, and crocodile tears start streaming down your face.
“Y/N?”
Matt's hand is on your shoulder, urging you to get up from your crouching position. You stand up and attempt to wipe your tears away with the back of your hand.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He questions, picking Lacey up to hold her at his hip. You sniffle. “She wont listen to me.”
Lacey protests loudly as Matt picks her up, babbling little “no’s” repeatedly. “Lace, do you want ice cream?” Matt coos, effectively pacifying the toddler who loudly babbles in response.
Matt is confused, judging by how many chocolate bars you’d purchased earlier, he guessed you were on your period, but he heavily doubted anything Lacey said or did would make you this emotional period or not.
“Y/N, is everything at work okay?”
You nod, urging him that everything is fine. It’s the truth. Matt doesn’t quite believe you, skepticism laced in his eyes.
“Do both of my girls need ice cream?” He asks. You nod.
Pistachio ice cream is disgusting. This was something you and Matt both agreed on: If you order pistachio ice cream, you're over the age of fifty or you have broken taste buds.
So when you lean over the counter and ask the clerk behind the glass for a large pistachio ice cream, Matt stares at you with a mix of confusion and amusement but follows in ordering Lacey a kiddie-sized vanilla.
“You ordered pistachio ice cream,” Matt teases, bopping Lacey's nose with his finger, and she laughs. “She ordered pistachio ice cream, Lace, isn’t that weird.”
It’s obvious Lacey doesn’t know what he’s saying, but she still giggles at her father's antics. You cross your arms playfully, “shut up.” You huff, spooning the ice cream into your mouth.
You and Matt walk slowly out of the park because Lacey’s on foot. You're halfway done with your ice cream when you stop abruptly, and the pieces finally connect in your mind.
You’d been moody - period moody but weren’t on your period. You threw up at one of your favorite scents and ordered pistachio ice cream for god sake.
Holy shit.
“Matt, I think I’m pregnant,” you blurt.
Matt stops dead in his tracks when your words process in his head. His mouth falls into a slight ‘o’ shape, and he grips Lacey's hand slightly tighter.
You look at him and wince at his initial reaction, starting to feel a lump form in your throat. “I-is that bad?” You ask.
Matt swallows harshly. “No-no, baby it's not bad, I just wasn’t expecting that.”
He picks up Lacey, who’s looking back and forth between the two of you in confusion, and buckles her in her stroller, gripping the handlebar with one hand to give his full attention to you.
He studied your face; your eyes were reddish as you looked up at him. You breathed, waiting for Matt to break the silence.
“Let’s stop by the pharmacy on the way home, yeah?” Matt grips your hand, giving you an encouraging squeeze. You nod, knowing your voice will betray you if you try to speak.
You hesitate at the pharmacy’s entrance once you get there. Matt takes quick notice of this. “You stay here with Lacey; I’ll go in - I’ll be thirty seconds.”
“Ok.” You smile lightly at him and take a turn with the stroller.
…
You subconsciously lock yourself in the bathroom when you get home. You didn’t mean to lock Matt out, but you didn’t have the courage to do this with him.
You’re internally freaking out and trying to ground yourself by telling yourself “It’s just peeing on a stick.” This does the opposite of calming your heart rate.
You view the test. Two lines - positive. You freeze in place for a moment before Matt creaks the door open, “Baby, you’ve been in here forty min…”
Silence stifles his words once he sees the positive test in your grasp. “You're pregnant,” he smiles.
Your mind is overwhelmed with new information, and your mouth runs dry, unable to speak. You hug Matt tightly, clinging to him, knowing that's what you need to calm yourself down. “I won't be a good mother,” you mutter into his chest.
Matt's look hardens. “Have you seen yourself with Lacey? You’re a natural. You put her to sleep, feed her, you have the most controlled temper I’ve ever seen, and she loves you, Y/N.”
You frown. “Are you forgetting I’m here?” Matt continues, “I was a single dad for a year; you're going to have support baby.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I'm going to take care of you.”
A small smile creeps onto your face with Matt's encouragement. Matt notices your change in face and smiles, “We're going to have a baby.”
The realization sinks in, and you laugh, repeating Matt’s words. “We're going to have a baby.”
Matt ushers you to the bed where you sit down. There’s a bottle of Gatorade on the bed stand and one of your chocolate bars. “Electrolytes,” Matt smiles, handing you the drink which you steadily down.
You sit for a moment in content silence before you speak up, “Where’s Lacey?”
”The sitter came and picked her up, thought we needed some alone time.”
You laugh, “Alone time is good.” Matt nods, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “It’s my fault… the shit I said at the hotel.”
You can tell he’s too nervous to admit what he said and smirk, “You mean when you said you wanted to breed me and then begged to come inside of me… yeah, I think this is your fault,” you tease.
Matt laughs wholeheartedly and presses a kiss to your lips, pecking you twice. Then he pecks your forehead, above your brow, and both of your cheeks before he’s back to your lips in a full-on make-out session.
“I love you.” He presses a hand to your stomach.
Matt nudges his nose against yours, tilting his head to get better access to your lips. His lips taste minty from his ice cream sample. You take his scent in, the mix of his shampoo and Lacey's baby powder.
His stubble grazes your face as he leans over you. You laugh lightly into his mouth as the stubble tickles your cheeks. He feels wonderful.
Your hands move from his neck to his cheeks, cupping them. Your stomach felt fuzzy - your head felt fuzzy - and he didn’t stop moving his lips against yours. His hands roam your back and send goosebumps up your spine. When you pull away gasping for oxygen Matt pecks your neck. An innocent action coming from him. His hands prod your waist, sliding from your back to your stomach. He gently squeezes your sides and grips your waist lightly.
“I love you.” He presses a kiss behind your ear. “I love you.” He repeats. Another kiss followed.
You smile, you love it when he’s sappy. You cup his cheeks and press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “I love you too Matt.”
“Since I got you pregnant do you think we should get married?”
You play along, raising an eyebrow. “Get me a ring and I’ll think about it.”
WHITE XMAS | mattheo riddle
summary; mattheo comes to spend christmas with you and your family.
word count; 15,245
notes; I have never played chess in my life, chess girlies don’t come for me. pic was made by @finalgirllx!
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