#inez˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:��˚

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʟᴀʏ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥

fluff, suggestive, smut, fingering, friends to lovers,, edging, friends with benefits?, sexual content, heavy tension, slow burn, slight angst, teasing, unresolved sexual tension

word count - 2.1k

Chris stumbles into the room, breath ragged, his steps heavy against the floorboards. She’s already grinning, the familiar sight of him putting her at ease.

“What’s wrong with you, big baby?” she teases, arching an eyebrow.

“Bad day. Bad, bad day.” His voice is hoarse, and his eyes avoid hers as he drops his bags with a thud and kicks off his shoes. There’s a restlessness in the way he moves, something unspoken in the way his brow furrows.

He collapses onto the mattress beside her, face down and groaning. She watches him for a moment, the tension still lingering in his shoulders.

Then, without thinking too hard about it, she reaches over and ruffles his hair.

“You wanna watch a movie?” she asks after observing him for a minute, his back rising and falling rhythmically.

He turns his head to face her, still touching the mattress. He grins sleepily, and then mumbles, “I’ve got a better idea.”

“A better idea?” She barely finishes the sentence before Chris’s weight is on top of her, his chest pressing against her, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

Her breath catches. She stiffens, the sudden proximity unnerving but comforting at the same time. “What are you doing, Christopher?” she asks, trying for annoyance, but her voice betrays her.

Chris doesn’t respond, just nestles further into her chest.

She sighs, exasperated. “You really are a big baby, you know that?”

Chris doesn’t respond, just nestles further into her chest. His weight is warm, grounding. She should probably shove him off - he’s heavy, and she’ll regret letting him use her as a pillow in about ten minutes.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she feels it. His weight anchoring her in a way she never thought she’d crave.

Her body reacts before her mind can catch up. She shifts slightly, instinctively pressing closer, trying to match the warmth between them, the unspoken pull that tugs at her from the inside. It’s too close, too much, but it feels like the only place she’s meant to be.

“Chris…” she breathes, unsure if she’s trying to pull him closer or push him away.

He doesn’t answer, just exhales, his breath warm against her skin. It sends a shiver down her spine.

When he still doesn’t reply, she pokes him. “Hey, Chris,” she whispers, and his blue eyes flicker open, scaring her slightly. “...hey what do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking a nap.” he responds simply, shutting his eyes again contentedly.

“On me?”

“Mhm” he mumbles, shifting so that his shoulders and hips are square with her, his face sitting in the crook of her neck.

She winces as he moves, and he immediately shoots his head towards hers, giving her a silent look of worry.

“I’m okay, Chris.” Relieved, he lies back down, breathing down her neck as he slowly dozes off.

He exhales slowly, and she feels it - warm and steady against her neck. It sends an involuntary shiver down her spine, and she hopes he doesn’t notice.

She places one hand on his back, acclimatising to the position she found herself in. She used her other hand to scroll on her phone, but her efforts were half-hearted.

She shook each of her legs out from under him, but as soon as she moved, Chris groaned in protest, somehow managing to sink into her even more.

As he shifts slightly, adjusting his position, suddenly she’s aware of everything. The press of his chest against hers, the slow, cadenced rise and fall of his breathing, the way his lips are just barely grazing her collarbone.

She should tell him to move. She really should.

But he’s warm. And comfortable. And she kind of likes the way his weight pins her down.

Oh god. Why does she like it?

She tentatively places a second hand on his back, intending to shove him off, but instead, her fingers curl slightly, pressing into the fabric of his hoodie. He hums contentedly, nuzzling into her neck.

She swallows hard. What the hell is he doing?

“Chris. You’re too heavy,” she complains, poking his side.

He groans but lifts his head slightly, propping himself up just enough to look at her. His blue eyes flicker between hers, slow and unreadable.

For a second, neither of them speaks. She should say something. She should move. She should push him away.

But then his gaze drops. To her lips. Just for a moment. 

She forgets how to breathe.

And soon enough he’s nestling back into her. She just accepts it. How her best friend is clinging onto her.

That’s when she feels it. Ever so slightly, a hardness poking her inner thigh.

She gasps. Not in pleasure. Just in shock.

Because that definitely wasn’t there before.

She stiffens, suddenly hyper aware of every inch of contact between them. Maybe if she doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, this moment won’t exist. Maybe she imagined it.

But then Chris shifts again, just slightly, and… oh.

Heat floods her cheeks, a mix of mortification and something else entirely.

Her mind races, and she tries to move, avoiding, avoiding her best friend’s dick. Chris groans again though and she feels it harder this time.

This is bad. This is so bad.

She should shove him off, laugh it off, make a joke about how he needs to get his situation under control.

But her body doesn’t get the memo. Instead, she shifts, just slightly, and the friction makes her head spin.

She can’t help it. A tiny whimper escapes her mouth.

Chris doesn’t say anything, but she senses the way his muscles tense at her reaction. 

As it continues to press into her, she lets out a low mewl, grasping at the material of Christopher’s hoodie.

She feels Chris smile against her skin, even before he speaks.

"You okay, baby?" His voice is lazy, amused. Like he already knows the answer.

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. She’s not sure what she was going to say.

She doesn’t respond. All of her senses are on fire and completely overwhelmed. She subconsciously rolls her hips before Chris stops her, with a single hand on her waist.

“Easy,” Chris murmurs, fingers tightening just enough to keep her still. His voice is lower now, his breath warm against her neck.

She goes still, pulse hammering in her throat.

Chris hums, like he’s thinking. Like he knows. “You’re squirmy tonight,” he muses. “Trying to tell me something?”

She swallows hard, but she has no answer.

Chris’s grip on her waist doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens. His fingers flex slightly, his palm pressing against the soft fabric of her shirt like he’s testing something. Testing her.

She should pull away. Say something. But she’s frozen beneath him, her pulse drumming in her ears.

Chris exhales slowly, and she feels it against her skin, warm and steady, but there’s a tightness to it, like he’s holding back. His fingers move…not far, just a slight drag along her side, barely there, but enough to make her stomach clench.

She shudders. It’s small, but he notices. Of course, he does.

His lips, still barely grazing her collarbone, twitch into something like a smirk.

“You okay, baby?” He repeats, voice low, almost amused, but there’s something else in it. Something rougher.

She swallows, nodding before she can think better of it.

Chris hums, his fingers sliding along the waistband of her pants, slow and deliberate, teasing without even meaning to. Or maybe he does mean to.

Either way, he doesn’t stop.

She stretches beneath him, trying anything to dull the ache inside. And it’s just her luck - her shirt rides up, and Christopher Sturniolo’s hand touches her skin.

He pauses but then continues to run his fingers along her waist.

His lips ghost over her collarbone, and his voice comes out quiet, almost lazy.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to get a grip on himself, but his fingers don’t stop moving, tracing slow circles at her waist.

“Tell me I can.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a rough edge to it. “Please.”

“Please, Christopher”, she begs in return.

Chris wastes no time in slipping his hand under her waistband. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even try to shift off her. His weight stays heavy on top of her, anchoring her to the mattress like he’s reluctant to give up the feeling of being pressed against her. It’s almost suffocating, but in the best way… he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to lose the closeness.

His hand slips further down, fingers lightly grazing her underwear. He doesn’t undress her, doesn’t try to get any further than that. No, he’s content… more than content, keeping her exactly like this, all his weight on top of her, with just his hands moving, dragging and teasing, as if he never wants to stop touching her.

She’s not content, though. She moans, urging Chris on by tightening her legs around him, drawing him in closer.

His mouth opens, hot breath fanning her skin as he plants a delicate kiss below her neck. His lips remain there, resting on her skin.

Then, with renewed vigor, he strokes her. Slow, deliberate. She mewls. Chris does it again. And again.

He enjoys every little sound that escapes her mouth. He’s sad he can’t watch her but he won’t compromise the position they are in. Her whimpers and whines. Her breathless moans, her sharp intakes of breath. Chris drinks it all in, his ear practically pressed against her voicebox.

And when he finally hears it, the soft, drawn out “please” that falls from her lips, he commits. Pulling her underwear to the side, he feels her wetness coat his index finger, and he lets the digit sit within the mess for a second.

Her gratified but still hungry noises urge him on further, slowly dragging the finger through her heat. Somehow, she’s never felt more intimate with someone. Maybe it’s the closeness, maybe it’s her desperation, or the fact that her best friend is touching her where she never even imagined he would.

Her self-resolve crumbles with each dying second. “Chris, please.” she begs him softly.

He hums curiously, finally pressing down on her clit. She clenches involuntarily, whimpering.

Chris’s finger moves with purpose, dragging along her sensitive skin, coaxing a mix of gasps and shaky breaths from her. His weight is still firmly pressing into her, not allowing her to escape or shift away from the growing tension. Every breath he takes feels like it's drawing him closer to her, as though he’s anchoring her to this moment, unwilling to let it slip away.

His eyes are closed, but the pressure of his hand, the way it moves so deliberately, feels like a silent conversation between them. No words are necessary. The silence is enough. His movements grow more insistent as her soft pleas reach his ears, each word breaking her resolve just a little more.

She’s trembling beneath him, every inch of her body hyper-aware of his touch. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, gripping it as if she can hold on to the moment. But she knows, deep down, that she’s losing herself in it. Losing herself in him.

“Chris…” She breathes his name like a plea, but it’s less a question and more of an invitation, a soft surrender to whatever this is turning into.

His lips are at her ear now, breath warm and steady against her skin, just enough to make her shiver. “You’re so beautiful when you beg,” he murmurs, the words low and rough, like he’s testing the waters, feeling her reactions.

His fingers don’t stop. They keep moving, dragging and teasing in a way that makes her head spin. She can’t focus, can barely breathe with the way his weight presses into her, every little shift heightening the tension between them.

She feels the world narrowing to just him. Just this moment. Just the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, the rising heat in her chest, the undeniable pull between them. Her body contorting, her hips twitching.

She’s close. Too close.

And yet, there’s a part of her that wants to pull away, to pretend none of this is happening. But another part, one that’s equally as desperate, wants more. She needs more.

She grips him harder, her chest rising and falling beneath him, and her voice cracks, “Chris, I-”

But whatever she’s about to say gets lost in a breathless gasp when his finger presses deeper, the slow rhythm making her tremble uncontrollably beneath him.

His response is to press a kiss to the soft skin of her neck. “I got you,” he murmurs, his tone both teasing and comforting, like he knows exactly what she needs and he’s not going anywhere.

“Let me love you, baby.”

creds to @bernardsbendystraws for the divider! 🫶🏻

a/n: once again this was meant to be a blurb. lmk ur thoughts!

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart comment to be added/removed to my main (non-au) taglist !

till next time <3

[oopsiedaisydeer]

@snoopychris ur so nonchalant

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ɴᴏᴡ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄɪɴɢ… ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴀᴛᴛ x ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇᴄʀᴜꜱʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦!𝘢𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘭𝘺

officeworker!matt. rolled-up sleeves. sarcastic but never mean. leans against doorways. disappears when work gets busy. sticky note doodles. drinks too much black coffee. side-eyes meetings. deadpan humor. sales team. falls asleep at his desk. arms crossed, watching. effortlessly charming. pretends he doesn’t care. prankster. remembers little details. loves the office cat. takes the long way back from lunch. catches officecrush!reader's eyes from across the room. competitive when he wants to be.

officecrush!reader. artsy. receptionist. purple and pink. stuck. doesn't take care of her curls. stray cat lover. mixed berry yoghurt. awkward. people pleasing. printer whisperer. pink pen in her pocket. messy sketchbook in her bag. hates being late. doodles during meetings. awkward waves. daisies. too nice to say no. always on the party committee. keeps a diary. sentimental but quiet about it. trinket collector. wonders if this is it. lingers in doorways. overthinks emails. steals glances at officeworker!matt.

@bernardsbendystraws thank u for dividers!

a/n: new au! the trailer for tour was so office vibes i had to!! i tried to find if someone else has done this alr... but i couldnt find anything??? lmk if someone has done this before pls <3

no taglist yet! but im tagging some mutuals <3

pls comment if u would like to be added to a taglist!!

mutuals - @snoopychris @bernardsbendystraws @blushsturns @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @throatgoat4u @sturnshood @sturnsrecord @trevorsgodmother @cowboylikenat @jellychs @loverboysturn @sturnberries @applecidersturniolo @stxrsniolo @mattsstarlet

till next time!! and pls send me asks abt these two as well as my other aus !!

💌

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ, ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ

friends to lovers, messy, slow burn, awkward intimacy, sexual tension, kissing, tension, confusion, longing, intense emotions, best friends, implied oral sex (m!receiveing), hesitation, unspoken desires, teasing

based of this request by @sturnslutz !

word count - 1.9k

The thing about being best friends with you is that Matt’s constantly caught in this weird in-between space, where he’s not sure if he should be reading your smile as something casual or… something else.

Today’s one of those days. You’re sitting on the couch, barely watching the movie, and you’re too close… so close that Matt can feel the heat from your skin, the way your hand brushes his when you reach for the blanket. It’s a simple gesture, no big deal, right? But his chest feels tight, and his heart’s doing this weird thing where it skips a beat, then races to catch up.

You probably don’t even notice, or if you do, you act like it’s nothing. Just you, being you, sweet and unbothered. But he’s not unbothered.

Matt hates how his brain fixates on every little thing… your laugh, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, how you move like you’re unaware of the effect you have on him. Every second with you is a war between wanting to lean closer and wanting to retreat.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. You’re his best friend. You’ve been through everything together, and he can’t afford to mess that up.

But then.

“Matt,” you say softly, leaning a little closer, like you’re searching for something in his eyes. Something he’s not sure he’s ready to give in to. His breath catches, and he’s momentarily frozen, unsure if he should answer or just keep staring at you like a damn idiot.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” You sound so casual, but your voice… there’s something there, something that makes his stomach twist in knots. And he knows you don’t mean anything by it, but he’s this close to losing control.

“I’m fine,” he manages, the words coming out way too fast, too panicked. His hand twitches at his side, but he holds it still, trying not to look at you, trying not to notice how your eyes linger on his.

He’s known you forever. You’re comfortable. But right now, nothing about this is comfortable.

It’s like… he’s waiting for something to happen. Something that he can’t predict. Something he doesn’t want to happen but also doesn’t want to stop. He’s so damn confused.

Your fingers brush his hand, this time deliberately, and his entire body freezes. The touch lingers for a fraction of a second too long. And in that instant, everything he’s been fighting against, the wanting, the longing, the goddamn frustration, hits him full force.

He doesn’t move. Your fingers trail the tendons in his hand, slowly, delicately. The air between you thickens, and he wonders if you feel it too. 

Then, suddenly, you look at him again, and it’s not the casual glance you always give him. It’s something different. Something more eager. Like you’re begging him to make a move.

For a second, Matt wonders if he’s imagining it. If he’s just seeing what he wants to see. But then your fingers tap against the back of his hand, the lightest pressure imaginable, and it’s like his brain short-circuits.

He should say something. Laugh it off. Move away. But he doesn’t. He just sits there, letting the weight of the moment sink into his skin, letting it press against his ribs like an ache.

Your eyes don’t leave his. They flicker down, just for a second, just enough to make his breath hitch, and suddenly, the movie is nothing, the room is nothing, and all he can focus on is the way you’re looking at him.

His fingers twitch beneath yours. And then, god, he’s not sure who moves first. Your knee knocks into his, your hand shifts against his wrist, and suddenly, he’s leaning in before he even realises he’s doing it.

It’s slow at first. Hesitant. His forehead nearly brushes yours, his breath warm where it ghosts over your lips, and it’s-

It’s too much.

Something snaps.

One second, you’re barely touching, and the next, he’s kissing you like he’s starved for it. Like all the tension, all the frustration, all the nights spent overthinking have finally boiled over.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groans. Quiet, but desperate. His grip tightens on your waist, on the soft fabric of the hoodie you stole from him weeks ago, and he barely has time to process the fact that you’re kissing him back just as hard before you’re shifting, moving, climbing into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Messy. It’s so messy. The way your fingers pull at him, the way his hands slide under your hoodie, the way your breaths come faster, sharper, mixing with his in the space between kisses.

This is so past the point of no return.

But the thing is… Matt doesn’t care. Not anymore. Not when your mouth is on his like this, not when your body is pressed against him, not when every second feels like unraveling something he’s been holding onto for way too long.

He knows he should stop. Ask if this means something. If this will change things. If you’ll regret it.

But when you pull back just enough to look at him, lips swollen, mouth open, eyes dark, breathing hard, fingers still tangled in his hair, he doesn’t ask.

Because you don’t look uncertain. You don’t look like you regret it.

You look like you want more.

And Matt gives it to you. 

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t overthink, doesn’t hold back. His hands slide higher, fingers skimming along your sides, feeling the way your body moves beneath his touch. His brain is foggy, all scrambled signals and static, but one thing is painfully, irrefutably clear. 

You. You feel so good.

You shift in his lap, pressing down in a way that has him sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hands tighten, grounding himself, grounding you, but it does nothing to stop the burn traveling through his veins. He’s never been like this, never let himself want this much, and it’s overwhelming. How much he needs you right now.

Your hands cup his face, pulling him back into another kiss, and it’s even messier this time, deeper, hungrier. Your teeth graze his bottom lip, and he groans, the sound slipping from his throat before he can even think to stop it. You react instantly, fingers fisting in his hoodie, tugging him closer, like you crave the way he’s unraveling beneath you.

It’s dizzying. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way you’re completely consuming him. His hands can’t stay still… palms sliding over your thighs, up your back, pressing into every curve, every inch of you he can reach.

“Matt,” you whisper against his lips, and fuck. His name. His name in your voice, like that, breathy and desperate… it nearly sends him over the edge.

He leans in, mouth trailing along your jaw, down your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, and your breath shudders, fingers digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t think. Not when you’re arching into him like this, not when you’re tilting your head, giving him more space, not when your nails scrape along the back of his neck in a way that makes his entire body burn.

But then.

You make this sound, this little gasp, and it’s like slamming on the brakes at full speed.

Matt’s heart stutters. His hands freeze, his lips still against your skin, his brain catching up to what the hell he’s doing.

What the hell are you two doing?

His breathing is ragged, his grip still firm on your waist, and you… you’re staring at him, lips parted, pupils blown wide. You look wrecked. And god, he must look wrecked too.

His throat feels tight. “I…”

But he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to make sense of the way everything just exploded between you two, how he went from second-guessing everything to nearly devouring you in the span of a few minutes.

Matt swallows hard, eyes flickering over your face, your lips, your expression… like he’s trying to memorise this moment before it slips through his fingers. His breath is uneven, his chest rising and falling too fast, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back.

You don’t want him to.

Your fingers trace the hem of his top, slipping underneath, palms pressing against his stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin. He tenses under your touch, sucking in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, his hands flexing against your waist like he’s trying to ground himself.

His head tilts back slightly, and god, he looks so good like this. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, struggling to keep his breathing steady. You can feel the weight of his gaze when he looks back at you, like he’s searching for something, like he’s waiting for permission he doesn’t need to ask for.

And then you’re shifting, sliding off his lap, your hands trailing down his torso, slow and deliberate. He stiffens, his fingers twitching where they rest on your thigh, and you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches, the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

“Wait…” His voice is hoarse, like he’s trying to catch up with what’s happening, but he doesn’t actually stop you.

You glance up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants. “Do you want me to stop?”

Matt lets out a shuddering breath, his hands gripping the couch like he’s trying to ground himself. He shakes his head, almost too fast, and when he finally meets your gaze, his pupils are blown wide.

“No.” His voice is barely above a whisper, rough and breathless. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good.” A small smile tugs at your lips, almost shy. “I wanna take care of you.”

His hands twitch at his sides, like he doesn’t know where to put them. Like he’s fighting some internal battle, caught between letting this happen and stopping you before he completely loses himself. But you don’t give him that chance.

You settle between his legs, eyes locked onto his, waiting for something…hesitation, a second thought, any kind of resistance. But Matt just looks at you, jaw clenched so tightly you think it might shatter, hands gripping the couch like he’s holding on for dear life.

And then you touch him.

His head drops back against the couch with a groan so low, so strained, that heat pools in your stomach instantly. His hands finally move, fingers threading into your hair, hesitant at first, then desperate.

You take your time, teasing, testing, watching every reaction…how his breath stutters, how his fingers tighten, how his thighs tense beneath you. He’s unraveling right in front of you, and it’s intoxicating.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, voice wrecked, half a laugh, half a plea.

You glance up, meeting his eyes just as his grip falters. “Don’t be shy, baby.”

He looks at you again, tilting his head in confused adoration.

You smile, a breathless, teasing grin. And then you whisper, “I want it to be, like, messy.”

creds to rose for the divider! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: erm. i hope u like it alexis.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 comment to be added to my main (non-au) taglist!

cya soon !!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴀɴ ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘺 (𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴)

angst, fluff, suggestive, physical intimacy, emotional distress, love bites, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, crying, touch starvation, oral fixation, hint of pica, loneliness, make out (in no particular order)

word count - 4k

It wasn't like it had always been a problem. Her putting… her mouth on things. 

It started small, sucking on the tips of her fingers. Running them, one at a time, along her lips and then opening her mouth, moving the finger in and out, puckering her lips around it.

Chris noticed it before she did.

“Why are you doing that?” he’d said once, when they were barely teenagers, watching as she traced the rim of a bottle with her thumb before brushing it against her mouth.

She had only blinked at him. “Do what?”

“That.” He nodded toward her hands. “You always have to be touching your mouth.” His voice was thoughtful, almost teasing, but his eyes were dark, watching the way her lips parted around the plastic. His gaze flicked down, tracking the way her tongue darted out. Just for a second, just to wet her lips.

She hadn’t responded. Because how does she explain to someone, someone who knows her better than she knows herself, that it wasn’t just a habit? That it was something deeper, something she couldn’t name.

Her mouth around her water bottle, all day. Lollipops. Gum. Ice cubes. Nothing quite hit the spot.

She licked her cutlery clean every night. Ran her tongue along the blade, the edge of her tooth. The rose quartz she kept by her pillow, carefully and delicately held between her lips, teeth tightly shut to avoid any accidents.

And then, one day, she started to cry. For the same unknown reason. Sleepily, sadly, alone. She would hold onto her childhood teddy for dear life, cradling it like a newborn. She wound her body around it like she was a baby herself, tucking her head to her chest. The fur tickled her nose and she breathed in the comforting smell of the bear she had had since she was small.

The texture was soft but unsatisfying, the pressure grounding but never quite enough. She sucked lightly, her breath hitching. She didn’t need it, she didn’t need any of this, but the ache in her chest was quieter when she had something warm against her lips.

Slowly but surely, she would place open-mouthed kisses all over the stuffed animal. Sucking on the fur softly, she would dredge her fingers through the back of its head. She inhaled whilst doing so, breathing in the almost-human scent that had come to rest on the bear after her years of snuggling up to it.

It became a habit, the one thing to dull the urge, to make her feel that little bit less starving.

She now made sure to save herself for when she was in the comfort of her own room.

Under the soft covers, cuddling her bear, she came to realise the problem for what it was.

It wasn’t just about having something in her mouth. It was about touch. Or rather, the absence of it.

Nothing made that clearer than being here.

The house was packed—music thumping, laughter cutting through the air, dim lights casting long shadows against the walls. She stood at the edge of it all, sipping lemonade from a red cup, watching one of her best friends curl into her boyfriend’s side like she belonged there.

They had been attached at the hip all night. Still lingering in the honeymoon phase. His hand resting on her waist, fingers grazing her skin. Their bodies swaying together as they laughed, the kind of effortless, intimate touch that no one thought twice about. Except her.

She swallowed hard, looking away.

It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. It was something else. Something heavier.

Because if she really thought about it, if she let herself admit it, she didn’t just want to be them. She wanted to know what it felt like. To have someone’s lips on hers. Their hands on her skin. To be wanted like that.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling untethered, like a ghost hovering in the background of her own life.

And then… Chris. Her best friend, since well, forever. Since the tooth fairy first came, since he grew out of his lisp, since... always.

Christopher Owen Sturniolo, standing next to her, idly spinning a beer bottle between his fingers as he rambled on and on. He usually didn't drink much, so she was surprised he had the drink in his hands at all. He'd been sipping at it all night, and she doubted he'd drink more than two thirds before they leave.

He looks over at her, but doesn't say anything for a while. Then, he reaches over, brushing his hand on her shoulder.

She straightens up, surprised at the sudden gesture.

“Hey, I know you might just wanna head home after this…but you've been so quiet all-night and it's been ages since we've hung out just the two of us. So, if you want to, and totally okay if you don't, do you want to come over? We could just watch a movie, eat shit, and, I mean, I'll sleep on the couch if it makes you more comfortable.”

She looks over at Chris, beaming. They haven't had a sleepover in a long time, it's true. Partly due to the fact that he hogs the blanket, partly due to the fact that sharing a bed past the age of 12 just felt a little weird.

Despite herself, she nods her head, glad for a simple night between friends. Maybe spending more time with her friends, especially the single ones, will make her feel less alone.

“That sounds great”, she says to Chris.

He grins back at her, slapping his knee. “That's what I'm talking about”, he says excitedly, “Let's head past 7/11 on the way.”

Chris was relieved. She had been distant lately, lost in thought in a way that made something inside him ache. He wasn’t sure when he started feeling it—the sharp tug in his chest when she looked at other guys like they held answers he couldn’t give her. The way she drifted further away, like she was searching for something, someone, and it wasn’t him.

Maybe that was why he had grabbed a beer tonight. Not to get drunk, just to feel a little less like the guy who never got chosen. He sometimes hated the fact that he was content just loving her from afar.

When they finally make it to his house, they both tiptoe upstairs, trying not to wake anyone else up. Somehow, she still remembers which steps to skip on the staircase. It's a comforting feeling.

Chris shuts the door behind them very slowly, and then they both erupt into a fit of giggles at their spy-like adventure. Chris pokes her in the ribs, and she could tell he was still the tiniest bit tipsy. She was just the right amount of sleepy so that the atmosphere between them felt good. Natural. Right.

They both pick a movie to watch as per their childhood rules, with the guest's movie first. After forcing Chris through one of her favourite comedies, which he claimed he hated, Chris picked out a classic film from their childhood. 

She notices her teddy bear poking out of the bag she had packed. Debating on whether to pick it up, she eventually grabs it, tucking it under her arm. Chris notices, of course.

“Hey, I remember this little guy! You still have him?” he asks enthusiastically.

“Yup,” she mumbles, “can't sleep without him.” She doesn't know what it is about Chris that makes her comfortable enough to say something like that at all. 

Little does he know, she thinks, ashamed of her neediness.

Chris just smiled as she settled on the bed, but something about it stuck with him. It wasn’t just the bear… it was everything. The little things she did when she thought no one was looking. The way she pressed her lips together when watching couples. The quiet yearning in her eyes that he wasn’t sure she even recognised.

The movie starts and she immediately feels a sense of peace that she hasn't in a long, long time. Chris does too, and she can tell by the way his eyes light up at the classic animation.

About halfway through, it hits her. Really hits her. The nostalgia. The sadness. The loneliness. It doesn't matter that she's in a house full of people she's known her whole life, with Chris beside her. She still feels… so wretchedly alone. 

And so the ache begins.

She tries to subtly run her thumb across her lips and teeth. But Chris cracks a joke and she can't help but giggle, ruining the sensation that already provided little comfort. 

After ten painstaking minutes go by, she settles on her last resort. She manoeuvres her body to be laying on her side, facing Chris, with her head still pointed towards the screen. She maintains distance with the boy so as to not draw attention to herself, as she hugs the bear with both arms across her chest.

She rests the lower part of her mouth on the crown of the bear's head, flicking her gaze up to Chris who is still fully immersed in the film. Seeing that, she sucks idly on the fur with her mouth, trying to remain as quiet as she can manage.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris observes her change in position. He's glad that her body language is more open now, and she seems more comfortable. She looks small there, on his bed, practically curled up. He doesn't remember when he started caring so much more about how she felt, whether she was comfortable, what she was thinking. Caring about her, about them. He didn't mind though. He appreciated just being close to her.

He glanced down at her every so often, from his position up by the headboard. He took note of her features, the soft rise and fall of her chest, trying to tell if she was still awake. She was curled up with her teddy bear, just like when they were younger.

Just as the movie only has 20 minutes to go, an especially quiet scene makes him hear it. The ever so slight sound of someone… sucking? Chris looks down at her again. He notices the subtle movement of her head as it seemingly nestles into the teddy bear.

He doesn't know why his skin suddenly feels like it's on fire.

Confused, he nonetheless opens his mouth, “Hey,” he says softly, shaking her shoulder to see if she's still awake.

She jolts at the contact, awkwardness rippling through her body. Had he noticed? Does he think she's pathetic? She removes her mouth from the bear, carefully wiping it as she does in a lame attempt to keep up appearances. 

She cranes her neck to look at him, her lips glossy from the sucking and her eyes wide and innocent despite the late hour. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“What's up?”, she asks, trying to sound casual but it just comes across as meek.

Chris stares at her, dumbfounded, before clearing his throat. “No, nothing, just wanted to see if you were still awake.” he manages, blurting words out too slow and too fast. He wasn’t sure why he lied. Maybe because seeing her like that—so vulnerable, so desperate for something—felt like looking into a mirror.

She smiles at him, and goes to turn back to the movie, but his hand on her shoulder again stops her. She trembles slightly, fearing once again that this night has taken a turn for the worst. 

“What- um, what were you doing just now? I heard like a, a weird noise?”

Instead of responding, she casts her eyes to his hand on her shoulder and then down to the bear. She bit the tip of her tongue in a desperate attempt to calm herself. Before she realises, small hot tears spurt out of her eyes, soaking her face and the teddy bear. 

Chris reacts instantly, pulling her in and cradling her against him. She whimpers into his hoodie, the teddy bear still clutched in her arms creating a physical barrier between them.

“Shhh, it's okay, it's okay. What's wrong?” he coos, patting her on the back in a smooth, circular motion.

She hates herself for crying but she hates even more that she's allowing Chris to comfort her like this. She doesn't want to take advantage of his kindness, especially not for a reason as pathetic as hers. Slowly but surely though, she calms down.

Chris loosens his grip, but she remains close to him. It feels like a dream to hold her like this, but not for this reason. He looks down at her, patting the back of her head.

“You gonna talk to me, now?” he asks tentatively.

She shook her head, unable to answer. But slowly, she spoke—haltingly, painfully. She told him everything. The habits. The loneliness. The yearning. The unbearable, gnawing need.

Chris had nothing to say. He was in shock. Disbelief. How could it be, that the girl he had loved his entire life, had felt this neglected? Alone. Touch starved.

Was he stupid? Probably.

When her rambling finally came to an end, the shame she had previously felt had melted away. Now she just felt bare. Naked. And not in a fun way.

After some time in silence, the credits of the film began to roll, and she glanced at the screen, sorry that she had missed the ending of one of their favourite films.

Chris grasps her chin spontaneously, sending shivers and jolts of electricity through her. He turns her face back to his and adjusts his grip so that he can run his thumb over her bottom Iip.

She gasps at his movement, searching his eyes only to find them a dark and deep, ocean blue. For the first time in a long time, she feels a warmth spread across her body. From just one touch. His touch. Her best friend's.

Chris continues to trace her mouth with his thumb. She stares at him, questioningly, before shyly taking the tip of his thumb in between her teeth, careful not to hurt him as she poked him with the tip of her tongue. She inhales sharply as she does so, and he makes a low humming sound.

Chris inhaled, his fingers tightening around her waist. The moment was electric. Wordless. Perfect.

He took a shaky breath, his thumb still resting against her lips. His voice was quieter when he spoke, almost like he was afraid to say it out loud.

“I don’t think I can keep this in anymore,” he admitted, his fingers tightening slightly against her waist. “I’ve liked you for so long. I don’t even know when it started. Maybe since we were kids, maybe since forever.” He huffed a soft, nervous laugh, shaking his head. “But it’s not just some dumb crush. It’s… you. You’re the only one I ever look for in a room. The only person who makes everything else feel… smaller, like it doesn’t matter as much.”

His eyes flickered across her face, searching for something, anything, that told him he hadn’t just made a mistake.

She stared back at him, breathless. “Chris…”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to say anything, I just-”

“It’s always been you.”

His heart stuttered.

She was smiling now, her eyes bright in the dim light, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.

They both smile at each other, a look full of adoration and praise. When he retracts his hand, she stifles a whimper at the loss of contact. But before long, he takes her face with both hands and kisses her. She's shocked for a second, and then softly, with a quiet hunger, kisses him back. She reaches her hand out to touch him, to ground herself in this moment, but hesitates.

Chris lets go of her face as he kisses her, moving his hands to her shoulders and then running them up and down her sides. He grabs her by the waist and tugs her towards his lap, and she happily wraps herself around him as they continue.

There's something about the moment that feels so perfect, so right, that both of their brains are at a complete standstill. No worry, no anxious thought, no quiet concern reaches them. He pours all of his love, pining, desire into the kiss, and she offers her endless affection, her boundless love in return. 

When they finally come up for air, Chris presses his forehead to hers, and they breathe in rhythm.

Her lips felt swollen, tingling in a way no sweet or pen cap had ever made them. She ran her tongue over them, chasing the ghost of his mouth on hers, and exhaled shakily. Nothing had ever felt like this, not the edge of a lollipop, not the stuffed bear she still tucked under her chin at night.

Chris smiles widely, and it's like something inside her snaps. She straddles him properly, and kisses him again. This time she's in control, as Chris just lies back and takes it, holding onto her for dear life.

The feeling of him this close to her, his familiar smell, his hands on her, drives her crazy. She pulls her mouth off of him and he huffs in annoyance, but she just grins. 

She nods towards his hoodie, and he complies, taking it off quickly. When the top passes over his head, he looks at her again to find her bare chest in front of him also. His jaw drops and he looks at her face, to which she tilts her head like a dog.

“Baby, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen.” he admits, watching her blush spread across her cheek. 

“I could argue that title belongs to you.” she retorts, gazing longingly at him.

“Don't spread misinformation, sweetheart.” he says, running his hands along her sides, like before, as if to confirm she's here, solid, in front of him, like this. That it's not some kind of dream. Each time his palms reach her waist, she inhales sharply.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“I love it, baby. I love everything about you.” 

“Yeah?”, it's his turn to cock his head.

She hesitates before responding. “Can I show you?”, she asks innocently.

His stomach twists at the sight of her, and he holds her even more tightly. “Please sweetheart”, he breathes.

And that's all she needs. All she's ever needed.

She traces her lips along his lips again, breathing with him. Then she kisses the side of his mouth, pecking him delicately. She drags her mouth up the right side of his mouth, sucking on his cheekbone lightly.

Chris inhaled sharply, his breath hitching at the unexpected intimacy. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear, his voice hushed but full of devotion. His hands, trembling slightly, caressed her shoulders as if she might break. When her teeth grazed his ear, his body jerked instinctively, and he groaned low in his throat. She rolled the silver earring between her teeth, teasing him and making his senses go numb.

She dragged her mouth and tongue down his neck, the heat of her breath making him shiver. She moaned quietly, the sound of it drawing a fierce response from him. His hands found her waist again, pulling her closer, but she remained focused, kissing lower, deeper.

Then, she found his sweet spot—just beneath his jaw—and the effect was immediate. Chris’ hips bucked against her involuntarily, and his grip on her tightened. His reaction sent a jolt of pleasure through her, and she didn’t hesitate to suck at the spot, softly grazing her teeth against it, swirling her tongue with hunger. His hands curled into her hair, urging her on, but she wasn’t done. When she felt satisfied, she kissed the rest of his neck, her lips soft and reverent as she moved, trying to convey her affection in every touch.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this... let me, let me help you, sweetheart.” Chris’s voice was thick with longing, almost pained. His lips brushed her ear, his breath warm against her skin as he spoke.

She shook her head, the quiet, affectionate gesture enough to communicate her feelings. Without moving her mouth from his skin, she peppered soft kisses along his collarbone, sucking gently at a spot where the bone protruded, twisting her lips in a slow, tender motion.

Chris’s breath caught, and his chest heaved slightly. His hand moved from her waist back to her shoulder blades, cradling her gently, as though holding her meant grounding himself in the moment. He kissed the top of her head softly, smoothing her hair down as he whispered words she couldn’t fully hear, but she could feel the adoration in his touch. She'd never felt so much love with so little words.

Her kisses traced upwards now, all the way from the left shoulder to the right, pausing at moments to deliver small love bites to his chest, lingering on his skin as though she couldn’t get enough of him. With every kiss, her need to touch, to taste, to savor, grew stronger. Her lips pressed into his chest with a softness that held an undeniable depth of desire. It wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was the way she needed him, the way she sought to consume him, to lose herself in the taste of him, in the feel of him. 

Each time she moved, he responded, his breath quickening, his body shifting as though he couldn’t quite stay still. His hands wandered up and down her back, fingertips tracing the soft curve of her spine. Every touch felt desperate, a silent plea for more, but he didn’t want to rush it. She was slow, and he was impatient, aching to feel every bit of her.

When she finally stilled, it was at the center of his chest, where she placed a delicate kiss, her lips lingering as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Chris’s hand stroked her hair again, this time gently pulling her up to meet his gaze.

With a soft sigh, she pressed her lips to his mouth, kissing him gently, lingering there, not wanting to part quite yet. When she finally drew away, her lips were red and puffy from the intensity, but the love in her eyes matched his own—a quiet, profound adoration.

“I would do more, baby,” she mumbled against his lips, her voice soft with a trace of exhaustion. “But I’m really sleepy.”

Chris’s hand cradled her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin. He smiled, the corners of his eyes softening. “S’more than enough, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Eventually they find a position that left them close but comfortable still. Chest to chest, both laying on their side, her legs between his, his head tucked under her chin.

She sucks on the hair on the top of his head softly, dredging her fingers through the back of his head. She inhaled whilst doing so, breathing in her new favourite scent that just happened to be oh-so-familiar after years of sleeping beside Chris as kids, as pre-pubescent teens. Now, as, well whatever, that didn't matter to her right now.

She finally had something, someone that made her feel that less starving.

In fact, Chris made her feel kind of full. Satisfied, even.

It wasn’t just about having something in her mouth. It was about touch. Or rather, the intimacy of it. The love shared between them.

And just as they were about to drift off to sleep, Chris murmured in her ear...

“I have something else you can put that mouth on.”

She giggled, “I do too.”

She drifted off thinking about all the ways they’d fit together—both in the quiet of the night and in every moment after. They didn’t need to say another word.

creds to rose for dividers @bernardsbendystraws !!! also creds to @ishasturnz for helping me edit this one,, v much appreciated!

a/n: can u believe this was meant to be a blurb. anyway this came to me in a dream i guess (the sucking not the plot). probably the closest to smut ill ever write tbh.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid comment to be added/removed from my main (non-au) taglist !

cya soon!!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ask me some!!!

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴜᴛᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴍʙ

…𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘴

fluff, awkwardness, friends to lovers?, light flirting, unintentional flirting, banter, miscommunication, teasing, mild sexual innuendo, lighthearted, platonic? feelings, silly

word count - 1.2k

You’re mid-sentence when it happens.

“I just don’t think the moon landing was real,” Chris says, stretching his legs out on the couch in his room. “Like, yeah, sure, space exists or whatever, but you expect me to believe they had the technology to land on the moon in the sixties? People barely had color TV.”

You roll your eyes. “You wouldn’t believe in the moon landing.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Are you saying you do?”

“I’m saying I’m an innocent until proven guilty kind of girl.”

Chris shakes his head like he’s disappointed in you. “This is ridiculous.”

And then, just as you’re about to throw another sarcastic comment his way, your phone lights up. Noticing its low battery, you roll onto your side on Chris’ bed, plugging it in. Unbeknownst to you, your oversized shirt rides up, exposing your sleep shorts. Chris doesn’t mean for it to happen, but his gaze flickers and then his brow furrows, his head tilting just slightly.

As you turn back around to face him, Chris can’t help but blurt it out.

He clears his throat. “You have a cute butt, you know. Very round, nice, compact-”

You freeze mid-laugh, blinking at him. “Chris, what the actual-” You can’t even finish the sentence. Did he seriously just say that?

The room falls silent. You blink at him, utterly stunned, while he stares back at you like you’re the one who just said something weird. It takes approximately three full seconds for his own words to catch up to him, and when they do, his face shifts into something between mild horror and begrudging realization.

“Oh. Oh, wait-” He holds up a hand. “That sounded kinda-”

“Insane? Wildly inappropriate? Like something I should slap you for?”

Chris huffs, crossing his arms. “It was a compliment!”

“It was about my butt!”

“Yeah, but in, like, a normal way-”

"There is no normal way to say that, Christopher."

Chris huffs, crossing his arms, but his mind is already racing. It was just a compliment, right? He tries to push the weird feeling out of his chest, but it’s there, like something’s stirring under the surface. It was a compliment.

He clears his throat anxiously. “It was a compliment!” he repeats, trying to sound convincing, but the way her eyes narrow at him makes him second-guess himself. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to phrase it… You’re so smooth, Chris. Real smooth.

“Right.”

 “Whatever, man. I was just making an observation. Like, just, you know, being honest.”

“You sound like Jake Peralta right now.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

“You literally just recreated a classic Peraltiago moment. ‘Your butt is da bomb. There will be no survivors,’ Christopher.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s a compliment. Second of all, your butt is da bomb- wait, no, that sounded worse.”

You sigh dramatically, before an idea comes to you. “First of all, compact? As a compliment? What does that even mean?” you ask, gesturing wildly. “Second of all, if we’re making observations, let’s talk about your butt. Very, uh… symmetrical. Good proportions.”

Chris chokes on air, his Pepsi not even having reached his lips. “What- wait, seriously? Are we doing this?”

“Yeah, I mean, if we’re handing out compliments, it’s only fair” you say, teasing, but also grimacing.

His ears go pink, his voice a little less certain now. “That’s- not the same thing.”

“Oh? So now you see the issue?”

Chris groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

You shake your head, grabbing your water bottle and twisting it in your hands. The moment lingers, Chris still sulking over your lack of appreciation for his totally normal and platonic compliment.

And then, as if to pivot into something equally bizarre, you mumble, “When I couldn’t sleep as a kid, I used to try balancing my water bottle on my forehead.”

Chris lifts his head slightly. “What? Actually?”

“Yeah, like, I’d just be lying in bed, eyes wide open, and I’d think: What if I could balance my water bottle on my forehead for a full minute? Just... to see if I could.”

He stares at you like you’ve just confessed a strange, deeply important secret. “And?”

“I could do it. Didn’t help me sleep though.”

Silence. Then Chris sits up, slow, thoughtful as if he’s considering your childish admission seriously. “You think you could still do it?”

You narrow your eyes, leaning forward just a little. “Are you… challenging me?”

“No, I just don’t think you can do it.” He smiles at her, his tone doubting but playful.

The water bottle is in your hands before he even finishes speaking. You lie down completely, looking up at the ceiling, and carefully place the bottle on the center of your forehead. Chris watches, elbow on the armrest, chin resting against his palm, looking equal parts skeptical and intrigued.

For a few glorious seconds, you think you might actually pull it off. But then Chris stands up and flops on the bed next to you.

“Hey-”

The bottle wobbles once, twice, and then tumbles off your face, and you catch it with your hand. Chris bursts out laughing, practically folding over, and you groan in annoyance. You throw the bottle at him, the movement dramatic, not even trying to aim. It bounces off his shoulder and hits the floor with a soft thud.

“Okay, rude,” he wheezes, still grinning. “Not my fault you have terrible focus.”

You scowl, but you’re smiling too. “Not my fault you say weird things about my butt.”

Chris opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, then stops. Shuts it. Tilts his head.

And then, for the first time since this conversation started, his brain finally catches up.

“Wait. Hold on.” A little crinkle appears above his nose, like a thought is just starting to bloom. He stares at you for a beat longer, eyes flicking back and forth as if he’s sorting through his words. “Did that… what I said before… sound like flirting?”

You blink. “Chris”, you warn.

“No, but, hold on.” He suddenly looks very, very deep in thought. “Because I was just saying it, like, observationally, but now I’m thinking about it, and…”

Your heart skips a beat at the way his voice falters, and you find yourself wondering if you’re just imagining it. Was he really…? You shake your head. No, this is just Chris being Chris, right? You tell yourself, brushing it off.

“Chris, oh my God.” You throw your head back with a groan, smacking his arm before standing up and walking toward his bathroom.

He calls after you, still stuck in the rabbit hole of his own making. “But wait! If I was flirting… hypothetically… would it have worked? Like, actually?”

He says the last part slower, like he’s genuinely trying to piece it all together, his gaze fixed on you.

You call back out to him. “You’re never getting an answer to that!”

Chris stares at the ceiling, groaning internally. He can’t decide if it was the best thing ever or the worst mistake he’d made all week.

They were friends, he reminds himself. But it was just a half-assed attempt to comfort himself as he waited for you to come back.

thank u rose for the dividers!! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: this is me coming out as a silly girl. let me know if u enjoy!

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner comment if u would like to be tagged in my main (non-au) works!!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇʀ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

When she gets back from lunch, there’s a Valentine on her desk. Pink. A little lopsided heart in the corner. No name.

The office is all red and pink today. Streamers in the hallway, heart-shaped confetti scattered around the copier, a “Happy Valentine’s Day!” banner hanging above the water cooler. It’s cheesy. Over-the-top. Classic.

Her phone buzzes. A text from her fiancé.

Best sex of your life tonight.

That was it. No flowers, no card, not even a question about her day. She sighs quietly through her nose, puts her phone down, and stares at the card instead.

A throat clears. “Secret admirer?”

She looks up. Matt’s leaning against her desk, arms crossed, sleeves pushed up. His expression is neutral, but his eyes flick down to the card.

She scoffs, picking it up between two fingers. “It’s probably from accounting. They do this kind of thing, right?”

Matt tilts his head. “Yeah. Nothing says romance like the finance department.”

She rolls her eyes, but he just nods toward the envelope. “Not gonna open it?”

She hesitates. Shrugs. “I mean… it’s probably just a generic ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ thing.”

“Right. Of course.” He pushes off her desk, stretches his arms like he’s shaking something off. “Wouldn’t want your fiancé getting jealous.”

It’s said lightly. Jokingly. But she still feels the weight of it in her chest.

She laughs, but it’s quiet. Forced. “Yeah. That’d be a disaster.”

He hums, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Well, good luck. See ya later.”

He walks off, and she watches him go.

The card sits in her hand, unopened. The streamers around her feel a little too bright. The confetti, a little too loud.

She waits, then finally opens the envelope.

Inside, the words are simple but warm.

“I think you’re pretty great. Hope today’s just as special as you are.”

Her heart stutters for a second, her fingers tracing over the ink. The note feels genuine, in a way that makes her chest tighten. It also feels more heartfelt, and more personal than it should.

She bites her lip, wondering who could’ve left it for her.

thank u rose for the dividers as always!!! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: ahhh they're so cute i love em! happy valentine's day everybody <3

taglist: @sturnshood @blushsturns @mattsstarlet @throatgoat4u @sturnsrecord @applecidersturniolo @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @sosasturns @ifwdominicfike @cheriiboo @sturns-mermaid @solarsturniolo @sturnberries @jellychs @mattscherries @mattsturnsgirlie @snoopychris @hjvi @loverboysturn @backwardshatnick @kriissy4gov @priscillaog @ribbonlovergirl @irmantez comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist!

cya soon!!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ꜱᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴊᴇʟʟᴏ

…𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵

She twists the cord of the office phone around her finger, watching the second hand of the clock drag itself forward. The office hums around her, keyboards clacking, printers whirring, the occasional burst of laughter from the break room. Her inbox is full. The copier is jammed again. There’s a meeting in an hour she doesn’t want to go to.

She answers phones. Transfers calls. Schedules meetings. Sometimes she unjams the copier. Sometimes she pretends she doesn’t see it.

This wasn’t the plan.

She was supposed to do something else, something with her hands. Something creative. Anything other than being a receptionist. She used to fill sketchbooks, used to sit for hours cross-legged on her bedroom floor, ink smudged on the side of her hand. She used to dream about leaving this town, about doing something big. But then life happened. And rent existed. Health care. And somehow, this happened instead.

She glances down at the ring on her finger.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to get married. It’s just… when she was younger, she thought she’d feel different about it.

Matt watches from his desk as she reaches for her stapler, completely unaware. He can’t help the small grin tugging at his lips as he watches her hand dip into the Jello he’d strategically placed earlier.

Their eyes meet just as her fingers touch the gelatin. She freezes, looking up at him with an amused but exasperated smile.

He shrugs innocently. She knows the drill.

She picks up the stapler, covered in Jello, shaking her head, a small laugh escaping her. For a moment, their eyes linger, and he feels a little lighter.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, noticing the blinking light on his phone out of the corner of his eyes. Another sales call he should take. Another client Matt should charm into buying something they don’t really need.

He sells stuff. Over the phone. To people who already have them.

Living the dream.

He used to think he’d be doing something more important by now. Something meaningful. But he’s been here long enough to know that every week bleeds into the next. That even when things change, they don’t really.

Still, he knows useful things now. Like the best time to get coffee before it runs out. How many steps it takes to get from his desk to the vending machine.

What time she usually takes lunch.

Matt exhales sharply through his nose, shakes the thought away, and picks up the phone.

thank you @bernardsbendystraws for dividers!!! much love

a/n: guys what if i am insane

taglist: @sturnshood @blushsturns @mattsstarlet @throatgoat4u @sturnsrecord @applecidersturniolo @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @sosasturns @ifwdominicfike @cheriiboo @sturns-mermaid @solarsturniolo @sturnberries @jellychs @mattscherries @mattsturnsgirlie @snoopychris @hjvi @loverboysturn @backwardshatnick @kriissy4gov i tagged most ppl who interacted w the moodboards !! pls comment if u would like to be added/removed from this au's taglist :>

till next time!!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

do u have any fic recs?

yes.

anything @snoopychris has ever written - masterlist

anything @loverboysturn has ever written - masterlist

the familiar stranger series and ghostface!au's by @sturnlsstuff - masterlist

bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader, skater!chris x girly!reader, farmers!daughter!reader x cowboy!matt, bookstore owner!matt x sheep!reader by @st7rnioioss

sweetheart!reader & fb!chris by @clairomatt - intro

can we kiss like fish? and every series and also just everything by @bernardsbendystraws

dilf!matt and it's a love/hate thing by @mattscoquette

unsent letters series by @dominicfikeenthusiast

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ꜱᴜᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ ʟɪᴘ

fluff, flirting, teasing, suggestive, playful banter, friends to lovers, tension, lip biting, kissing, bold chris, flustered reader

word count - 500 ish

It starts as a joke. It always does.

She’s sprawled out on Chris’s couch, scrolling through the comments under her latest Instagram post. “Nah, why are they so obsessed with my lips?” she laughs, reading them out loud. “‘The pout is insane’... okay, relax. ‘She knows what she's doing’... should I start charging for this?”

“Oh my god, someone even said they wanted to suck on it!”

Chris, who’s been half-listening, doesn’t react at first. She expects an eye roll, maybe a sarcastic remark, but when she glances up, his gaze is already on her, sharp and unreadable.

Then, just as casually as if he were commenting on the weather, he shrugs and says, “I mean… I kinda get it. I wanna suck on your bottom lip, too.”

Her stomach lurches.

"What."

Chris just grins, tilting his head. “What? I’m just saying.”

Except he’s definitely not just saying. There’s something about the way he looks at her… like he’s already made up his mind, like he’s just waiting for her to catch up. His tongue swipes over his own lip as he shifts closer, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

"You do kinda overuse the pout," he murmurs, tapping a finger against the couch’s surface. "Feels like false advertising."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "And what does that mean?"

Chris hums. "Dunno. Might need to test it out myself."

And before she can react, before she can think, his fingers are at her chin, tilting her face toward him. His touch is light but sure, thumb tracing the corner of her mouth, grazing her bottom lip just enough to make her breath hitch.

Then he leans in.

The first touch of his lips is barely there, more of a tease than anything. Then, slowly, so slowly, he parts his mouth, taking her bottom lip between his own. The first pull is gentle, a soft, barely-there suction, like he’s testing the weight of it. Then he does it again, this time firmer, lips warm and plush as he draws her in.

The sensation is enough to send a shiver down her spine. His mouth moves over hers with a lazy kind of precision, like he has all the time in the world, like he’s enjoying this. A flicker of his tongue traces the swell of her lip before he sucks again, deeper this time, a slow, languid pull that makes her grip his hoodie without thinking.

Chris hums low in his throat, pleased. His hand slides to her jaw, fingers curling against her skin as he keeps her exactly where he wants her.

And then, just when her head is spinning, just when she’s sure she might actually die if he doesn’t do something more… he lets go.

Chris pulls back just enough to press the softest kiss to her lips, quick and fleeting. Like an afterthought… the final note of a song still lingering in the air.

When he leans away, his lips are pinker, glossier. He licks them, smirking. "Huh," he muses, "not bad."

She just stares, brain struggling to reboot. She blinks. Once. Twice.

Chris leans back like nothing happened, throwing an arm over the couch, casual as ever.

"So… what’s the next comment say?"

creds to rose for the dividers as always <33 @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: hope u enjoy!!!!! quick lil fic for my pouty girls :p

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga comment to be added to my main taglist!

cya sooooooon xx

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍʏ ᴇᴀʀ

…𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭

angst, smut (mostly descriptive), friends to lovers, unresolved, no happy ending, suggestive, making out, heartbreak, emotional manipulation, self-destructive behavior, toxic dynamics, fluff if u squint, romance, intimacy, friends with benefits, betrayal, unrequited love?, slow burn, self-sabotage

listen to the song that inspired this fic while reading!

word count - 3k

Matt has a scar on his temple. She’s always liked to run her hand over it. The first time she tried, he flinched, batted her hand away, mumbled something about personal space.

She stopped after that. Until one day, he caught her staring.

"You wanna hear a story?" he asked, grinning like he had a secret. "Got mauled by a bear once. Barely made it out."

She almost called his bluff. Almost.

Instead, she smiled, seeing it for what it was... permission. To touch him. To know him in ways he wouldn’t always say.

Maybe she loves that he never tells the truth straight. Maybe she loves that she doesn't really understand him.

Maybe she just loves him.

It was not always a thing. Her… curiousity. Affection. Desire.

When they were very little, she used to follow him and his brothers around. It was easy to. Not to mention that people liked them, because they were charming, and funny, and genuine. She stuck by Matt's side through school, feeling safe and protected under his wing like a small bird. He teased her, sure, even back then. Always sitting beside him, walking directly behind him, looking out for his reaction when she told a joke or shared a story.

Eventually, they reached that age where it was only natural for her to distance herself slightly. Things became less ritual, less assumed, and she found herself asking for permission, looking for his affirmation, seeking out his validation.

Sometime after 10th grade, she started spending the night again. Mostly in Matt’s room. He let her in. And she took what she could get. They didn’t ever cuddle or anything. Mostly Matt would talk, and she would listen. She absorbed everything, every word, every silence. The care she had for him ran so deep she felt it inside sometimes, to the rhythm of her heartbeat, spreading through her like oxygen. He asks her questions sometimes, questions that a part of her finds silly and stupid, his boyish brain not quite at her contemplative level. She forced herself not to mind. To appreciate it.

When she does talk, in those late hours, staring up at the ceiling, she can tell he’s not really listening. He’s too… wrapped up in himself. It’s not that he doesn’t care. He’s probably just stressed. 

She hopes Matt cares. Maybe he does, just not as much as her. He likes the safety of the distance between them. But just enough, sure, maybe he cares.

That night, they end up in his room. He always lets her stay when the world gets too loud. Everything feels too quiet, too intimate here. It’s a comfortable space, familiar in a way that makes her want to curl up and stay forever. She rests her head against his pillow, the soft fabric of his sleeve brushing against her forehead as she stares at the ceiling.

When she wakes, they’re the closest they’ve ever been. The sunlight manages to shine directly into the corner of her eye, so she squints. And then she sees him. Feels him. He’s holding her, his arm draped over her waist, hand grazing her stomach as her back leans against him. She sees him so clearly. Pulling her toward him in the most innocent of ways.

She feels the goodness radiating off her bones and she becomes fearful. That he’s probably known all along, even when she hasn’t. That she likes him. Really, really likes him. 

The heat doesn’t overcome the fear then, it doesn’t pool in her stomach until much, much later. It’s not till they’re eating cereal, all of them together, and someone is telling a story, and all she can do is watch as Matt suppresses his laughter. She can’t help but see the little boy in him, always. Nothing about him is malevolent to her. Even when he smirks, teasing or mocking her, she feels nothing but warmth.

She goes to parties, tries to find another guy, another boy to kiss to avoid even thinking of Matt like that. It doesn’t work of course.

She gives away her virginity to the boy in her math class. The one who didn’t mean any harm and therefore, doesn’t cause her any. He doesn’t make her feel good, but she holds him close to hide his face so that she can tug on the brown hair and pretend all is well.

And then one night, when she finally admits to herself that none of it is working, she allows her mind to wander. To truly contemplate, what it might be like. To be loved like that. By him. 

She doesn’t drift for more than mere seconds before she finally feels the warmth return. In her mind, her thoughts recall how Matt's lips hover above her ear at parties just before he leaves her alone in the corner. She could come already, it’s pathetic.

The fantasy is shattered when she remembers him kissing another girl right after.

She’s not jealous. She doesn’t need to, doesn’t want to feel special. He lets her in, and that’s enough.

She touches herself to kill the emotion, replaying the scene from an outsider’s perspective. His lips on her ear. His lips on her ear. His lips on her ear. It rewinds and distorts but it’s no matter. She’s already sticky and shameful, childlike. 

She doesn’t dare to do it again, she already regrets it and can’t look him in the eye anymore. It’s almost like he knows about the sick fantasy, and he's constantly trying to catch her with his eyes like a hunter. 

It’s only because of this that she pictures him beneath her. His eyes so wide and disconcerted, like a deer in headlights. Just like a baby animal, and her fear dissipates to the rhythm of her touch, pretending, praying that the emotion will die once more if she gives the fantasy just enough room to breathe.

And then one night they’re talking about love, true love. Their beliefs, hopes and truths, and she lies, she lies like she loves him and wants to protect him. Treats herself like the one in the wrong. She knows that this conversation is only happening because nothing will ever happen between them. She hopes that that's true because she can’t handle the end of her love, not in the way he can.

Sometime between their complete and utter closeness, they both find comfort in others. She still searches for Matt though, always, always, always.

Sometime between the external comfort, they find their way back to his room, his bed. And he holds her again, more and more these days and she wonders why.

And it’s sick and twisted because it happens. In his bed. His lips hovering on her ear, expressing his shallow gratitude. She can’t help it, she gasps lightly. It’s the best she can manage without taking advantage of his closeness.

Unfortunately, Matt notices it, and he whispers again. 

“Do you like it, baby?”, she feels his warm breath coat her like the sun, “My mouth on your ear?”

Something shrivels up and dies inside her then, the reluctance, the pre-emptive disappointment, and she nods, squirming in his grip. “Mhm,” she whines. They fall asleep like that, cuddling like lovers as Matt whispers in her ear, sending her into a beautiful trance.

In the morning, they don’t speak of it. He’s there, a vessel of her comfort as always. Days pass, and she touches herself again, thoughts of Matt creeping in as always. 

They remain who they’ve always been to the outside world. Friends. Good friends. But back in his room, as she leans against the wall his bed touches, she doesn’t feel anything like that. 

He’s sitting at his desk, back to her.

“Matt,” she says, her voice quiet, but he turns around as the silence hangs in the air between them, sharp and fragile. “Do you ever think about... us?”

He looks at her, his brow furrowing slightly, and for the first time, she sees something flicker in his eyes. Uncertainty. He chuckles, but it’s not his usual carefree laugh. It’s tight, almost defensive.

“What do you mean, ‘us’?” he asks, trying to mask the tension in his voice with the ease he’s perfected over the years.

She takes a breath, the weight of her own words heavier than she expected. She knows this is risky, but it’s impossible to hold it in any longer. “I mean… us, as more than just…” She gestures between them, frustrated, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding foolish. “More than just… how we are. What we are.”

He shifts, his posture stiffening. His hand tightens against the armrest, his jaw set. “We’ve always been like this,” he says, and there’s that familiar nonchalance, the wall he’s always built between them. “Don’t need anything else. It’s enough.”

Her chest tightens, the words falling flat even as she tries to smile. “Maybe,” she whispers, but her voice shakes. “But what about me?”

There’s a pause, a heartbeat that lingers too long in the air between them. And for the briefest moment, she swears she sees something flicker in his eyes. Something softer, something afraid.

But then it’s gone, hidden behind that same smile that’s never quite reached his eyes.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” he says, more to himself than to her, his voice a little too calm. “You know that.”

She nods, the weight of his words sinking in. She’s heard this before… just never to her. She should know better, shouldn’t she? But it feels different this time. It feels like a denial, not just of her feelings, but of something they could have shared. Maybe she’s been fooling herself all along.

“I know,” she says, her voice small, barely audible over the noise. “I know.”

It's still not over after that conversation. She’s still completely at his mercy and she can’t bring herself to walk away, to shatter. It’s like she wants him to hurt her. For it to be his fault, and not hers. She tells herself she can move on, that she can bury the feelings that have only been growing with each passing moment. She’s had enough of the games. Enough of the waiting. Even edging herself and relieving herself does little good.

It’s just not that simple.

The next few days pass in a blur. She tries to keep her distance, but something keeps drawing her back to him…like a magnetic pull she can’t escape, the years, the way he’s always been there. And then there’s a moment, late one night, when everything just cracks. They’re in his room again, the same room that’s always felt like home and a cage at the same time. She’s sitting on the edge of his bed, talking about nothing and everything, and then he’s there, too close again.

And before she even knows what’s happening, his lips are on hers.

It’s not like the kisses she’s had before, quick and careless, stolen moments that never meant anything. This one is different. This one makes her feel like she’s floating, like she’s finally found a place she’s meant to be. She’s shocked, clawing at the air for a second. Then his hand cups the side of her face, and she presses closer, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt, pulling him in.

It’s a moment that feels like everything. Like it’s all been leading to this. And for a little while, she forgets about the rules he’s laid down. She forgets about the distance he’s kept between them. She just lets herself feel it, the heat, the intensity, the way his lips move against hers like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

He groans into her mouth, and pulls away abruptly. But she’s desperate, kissing him again as they fall down onto the bed, their chests pressed against each other. 

Somehow the moment is passionate, the way he undresses her, caresses her, tells her she’s beautiful. He whispers in her ear as he moves within her and she whimpers, closer and closer to the high she’s been yearning for. 

His mouth trails over her chest as she arches her back away from him. He cups her breast with his warm hand, kneading it and massaging it. “I love how you respond to me, to my touch.”

He enters her slower, deeper, “I want you to feel it, baby. I want you to feel good. Feel loved.” She moans at his words and looks back, staring into his eyes, the innocent gaze of a friend she’s known for as long as she’s known her own name. They both come with a final rough movement from him and collapse onto each other.

It feels loving, like devotion, and when he eventually pulls out, she feels full of bliss. 

He gets on his knees pulling on his shirt before glancing back at her. She pours all of her love into her post-orgasm stare. He smiles, shy, before looking back down and kneeling down to kiss her core. Slowly but surely, he overstimulates her, making out with the most private part of her, cleaning her, loving her.

She smiles, content. Empty, but newly joined. Hopeful. 

But the next morning, everything is different.

He’s distant again, almost like nothing happened. His eyes avoid hers, and the silence stretches between them like an ocean, too wide to cross. He doesn’t mention the kiss. Doesn’t acknowledge what happened after.

This time, it’s different though. She knows it, and he knows it. The unspoken tension hangs in the air between them, undeniable. They don’t say the words, but there’s a shift. A silent agreement in the way he watches her when he thinks she's not looking, the way she can’t stop looking at him, even as she tries to pretend like it doesn’t matter.

Eventually, after days of this unspoken tension, Matt says something. Casual, almost teasing, like they’re joking, like nothing matters.

“You think we could do this... and whatever? A compromise?” he says, voice low but eyes still holding hers.

She knows what he means. And she knows that this isn’t the kind of thing that can be taken back. It’s an offer, a dangerous one, and she’s so close to refusing, but instead, she finds herself nodding. She’s done pretending. She’s done with the half-truths.

“I’m fine with it,” she murmurs. “Don’t need much more.”

Matt looks at her, eyes sharp. “We can make this work,” he promises, but the words are hollow. She knows that. The question hangs there between them, a fragile thread strung across a chasm of things unsaid. He knows it too. But he won't say it.

They’re tangled together in the silence that follows, a pact neither of them can take back. It’s something they’ve both tried to avoid for so long. But now, in the wake of everything they’ve built up and torn down, it feels like the only thing left to do.

The bed feels too small for both of them, a tight coil that she can't escape. She lies back, her head sinking into the pillow, the weight of the room pressing down on her. Matt’s silhouette stands over her, a shadow she can’t shake off. The space between them is thick, suffocating. She breathes in, and the air feels heavier, as though every inch she takes toward him is another step toward the inevitable.

She tells herself it’s fine, that it’s just for now, just something to fill the space between them, to fill the gaps in the way they’ve always existed. No expectations. No pressure.

But as they fall into each other again, the boundaries blur, and everything shifts. The kisses feel deeper, the touches linger longer. He holds her. He holds her. His mouth over her ear.

She’s still scared, still bracing herself for the inevitable crash, the heartbreak she knows will come when it’s over. But right now, she can’t bring herself to care.

She should feel anger, or sadness… maybe both. But instead, she feels something worse: a sick, hollow longing. It's the kind of want that gnaws at her, the kind of want that tells her that even knowing this will hurt her, she would still do it. She would still step forward. Because for the first time in too long, something feels real, even if it’s doomed..

She’s already made her bed. She might as well lie down with him.

She’s always known this would happen. She’s always known Matt would leave her wanting, never giving enough to truly stay, yet always giving just enough to keep her hooked. But now, with the decisive touches, the silence, the empty space between them, it’s different. The fear she used to feel…fear that he might hurt her, might break her heart, is gone. There’s no surprise in it anymore. There’s only a cold certainty, a sharp knowledge of how deep the hurt will run.

And somehow, she feels it before it even happens… the ache of knowing this will end badly. But there's a strange warmth in the hurt. The promise of it. A twisted comfort, like preparing for a storm you can't stop, but somehow want. The thought of it burns, and she lets it. 

She knows how it will feel when it all unravels, but she can’t help the thrill that shivers up her spine. She can’t help the way her chest tightens with anticipation, knowing just how bad it will get.

She’s looking forward to the kill.

She’ll lie in this bed she made, her heart tangled in him, and she’ll let it consume her, because it’s the only thing that’s ever felt true.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers!!!

+ thank u @cowboylikenat for ur feedback <3

a/n: i swore i'd never write smut yet here we are.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart comment to be added to my main (non-au) taglist!!

till next time!!!!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

longest month of my fucking life.

every day I wake up and it’s fucking january

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʙᴀʙʏ

fluff, mutual pining, light angst, teasing, silly, idiots in love, friends to lovers, pet names, crush, shy matt, slightest hint of subbish matt

based off this request!

word count - 1.1k

Matt had never been one to outwardly express his feelings. Most of the time, he kept things to himself, especially when it came to his friends. But lately, there was one thing he couldn’t seem to shake. Your casual, silly use of a particular pet name. Baby.

It wasn’t intentional, he knew that. You’d been calling everyone in the group by silly, affectionate pet names for weeks now. To you, it was just a fun, harmless way of talking, but to Matt? Well, it was starting to mean something more than that.

And it wasn’t just Matt who had picked up on it, everyone else had too. You were the type to throw out affectionate terms for all your friends, but when it came to Matt, everyone knew there was something different, more intentional, careful, loving about the way you said it to him.

He’d tried to brush it off at first. After all, it was just a nickname, right? You called everyone “baby” or “sweetheart” or even “babe,” and no one thought anything of it. But there was something about the way you said it, so easily, so naturally, that made Matt’s heart do an involuntary flip every time you said it to him.

“Hey, baby, could you grab that for me?” you asked one day, tapping him lightly on the shoulder as you reached for the remote, your voice teasing and light.

Matt froze for a second, almost choking on air. His eyes flicked over to you, then down to the object you were pointing at, struggling to keep his cool. It was just a remote, but in that moment, it felt like his entire world had stopped moving.

“Uh, sure,” he muttered, trying not to show the way his chest fluttered at the nickname. He handed it to you, his fingers brushing against yours just slightly, and his heart raced even faster. His brain kept short circuiting, imagining that the way you said “baby” to him was like a little secret only the two of you shared.

Later, you all sat in the living room, lounging on the couch as usual, when you leaned your head on his shoulder. “You’re so sweet, baby,” you whispered, and Matt swore he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this, but it still sent his mind spinning every time.

It wasn’t lost on anyone else, though. Nick, watching from across the room, exchanged a knowing glance with one of your other friends. You were completely unaware of the effect you were having on Matt, and Matt, well, he was just trying to keep it together.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Matt’s voice was quieter than usual, a bit more hesitant as he leaned in toward you. You glanced up at him, noticing the nervous edge to his expression.

“Sure, what’s up?” you asked, a kind smile on your lips as you expected him to say something about the movie, or the snacks, or anything else.

He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention before leaning in a little closer. “Uh, just... please don’t call me ‘baby’ anymore,” he said, his voice low, but there was a little hint of something, was it discomfort? Maybe even... nerves?

You blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean? It’s just a nickname, Matt.”

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck like he was working up the courage to say something. “I know, but...” He hesitated for a moment, looking over at you before his eyes dropped to the floor. “I just... I don’t want it to sound like I’m taking it seriously. It’s... it’s just... I don’t know, it feels like you’re saying it to everyone, and I don’t want it to lose meaning.”

His words made your heart race in a different way, but you were still a little confused. “But I’m just being silly with everyone,” you said, shrugging. “I mean, I call you ‘baby’ like I call the others. No harm in it.”

Matt bit his lip, his fingers twitching slightly as he looked up at you, his gaze more intense than usual. “It… it affects me,” he mumbled quietly. “It’s just... when you say it, it kind of... I don’t know... it makes me feel things. And I want it to mean more than just a joke. I... I want it to be something just between us.”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you realised what he was trying to say. Your heart fluttered at his admission, feeling the warm flush spread across your cheeks. Maybe, just maybe, he liked you more than you thought. Or maybe, just maybe, you liked him more than you realised.

You leaned in closer to him, your voice soft as you teased, “So... you want me to call you ‘baby,’ but only when it’s just the two of us, huh?”

Matt’s eyes widened slightly, his cheeks turning pink as he looked away for a second, clearly flustered. “Yeah, I mean... if you want to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’d like that.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “Well, in that case...” You leaned into him more, cuddling up to him with a playful smirk. “You’re the only one I want to call ‘baby.’”

Matt’s face broke into a shy grin, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. “You got it,” he whispered, a bit more confidently now.

From across the room, Chris leaned back with a grin, nudging the others. He exchanged a knowing look with the rest of the group before they all collectively sighed.

“Fucking finally!” someone muttered, their voice full of relief and amusement.

Matt froze, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink as he realised the others had been watching the whole time. You chuckled softly, looking between Matt and your friends, your heart fluttering with the knowledge that things were finally going somewhere between you two.

Matt shot a glare at the group, but his grin couldn’t hide the happiness bubbling up inside him. “Shut up,” he muttered, but the playful edge in his voice was unmistakable.

Feeling bold, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a second before pulling away with a teasing smile. “Love you, baby,” you whispered, that familiar nickname feeling even more intimate now.

Matt’s heart skipped a beat, his entire face flushing as he turned to you, his hand resting against his cheek where you’d kissed him. “Shut up,” he mumbled, but his smile couldn’t be contained.

creds to rose for the dividers !! @bernardsbendystraws <3

a/n: im kinda loving this kinda hating it

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

till next time !!!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴀ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳

The meeting drags on longer than anyone expects, with voices murmuring over spreadsheets and budgets. Her eyes are starting to flutter shut as the clock ticks past 5pm, and despite the hum of conversation around her, she can’t seem to keep her focus. The room’s too warm, and her head feels heavy. Her eyes slip closed, her chin slowly dropping until it rests lightly on Matt’s shoulder.

Matt notices instantly. His eyes flicker down at her, and for a moment, he just lets the quiet moment hang between them. It’s like a butterfly has landed on his shoulder, gentle, delicate. He stays still, not wanting to disturb her, the weight of her head feeling oddly comforting against him.

He lets her rest, not wanting to disturb her, but as the meeting finally starts to wind down, he gently taps her arm. “Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly, “time to go home.”

She stirs, blinking against the soft light as she wakes up, her head still resting on him for a beat longer than she realises. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she quickly sits up, clearing her throat. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. On you.”

Matt chuckles softly, a playful glint in his eyes. “It’s alright. You looked like you needed the rest.” He glances at the clock. “It’s been an okay day, hasn’t it?”

She straightens, blinking, and then glances at Matt, still shy. “Yeah…pretty good,” her voice drags as she stands up from her chair, straightening her skirt.

He stands up too, stretching. She meets his gaze for a split second longer than usual, and Matt can’t help but wonder how she’s feeling. He imagines it like a soft thread. A soft pull.

Before either of them can say anything more, everyone starts to file out of the room, desperate to leave. For the first time, she realises she doesn’t really want to go home.

thank u @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

a/n: love these two

taglist: @sturnshood @blushsturns @mattsstarlet @throatgoat4u @sturnsrecord @applecidersturniolo @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @sosasturns @ifwdominicfike @cheriiboo @sturns-mermaid @solarsturniolo @sturnberries @jellychs @mattscherries @mattsturnsgirlie @snoopychris @hjvi @loverboysturn @backwardshatnick @kriissy4gov @priscillaog @ribbonlovergirl @irmantez @corspebridedelrey @and-a-monochrome-vision @pretty-random-writer @ilovebirds17 @snoopymatt @princesspeach0-0 @blahbel668 @marysongohmy @sturnl0ve @heavenlybunnies11 @desreads @chris-hallelujah @courta13 comment to be added to this au's taglist!!

cya soon!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʙᴜᴢᴢᴇᴅ

caffeine, anger, anxiety, emotional tension, hurt/comfort, guilt, miscommunication, apology, self-awareness, light teasing

based off this request!

word count - 850ish

You’d never been much of a caffeine drinker, but today, you decided to give it a go. Just one coffee, you told yourself. Nothing too crazy. But as soon as you took that first sip, you felt the buzz start to kick in. Your thoughts were racing, and before you knew it, you were talking at a mile a minute.

“So, I was thinking we could go to that new café this weekend, right? I heard they have these amazing pastries, and oh, did I tell you about the movie I saw last night? The main character was hilarious, I swear, I want to be her friend, and the lighting was incredible, like, the whole aesthetic was perfect, and I just can’t stop thinking about it, and, oh! Wait, no, there was something else I wanted to say, oh yeah! Have you tried that new thing at McDonalds they just started selling?"

Chris, on the other hand, had just gotten back from a rough day and was barely holding it together. The energy you were radiating was overwhelming, and the caffeine was making you talk even faster. He tried to keep up, nodding a little, but it was getting harder to focus with each word.

Eventually, the pressure built up, and he snapped.

"Could you just... stop for a second?" His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I’ve had a long day, alright? Just... just stop talking."

You froze immediately. The sharpness in his tone hit you harder than you expected, and your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realised you were talking so much. You stared at him, blinking rapidly, and you felt your chest tighten, a wave of guilt washing over you.

Chris was still standing there, his arms crossed, his eyes averted. His frustration wasn’t just with you, it was with himself, and he was trying to hold it together, but he didn’t know how to get out of this moment. His jaw clenched as he turned away, rubbing his face with one hand. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice rough. "It’s not you. I just... I had a shitty day, and the coffee’s got you talking a lot, and I don’t-"

His eyes flicked back to you, and he stopped mid-sentence. You were standing there, silent, your eyes glassy. It took him a moment to realize why the silence felt so heavy. It was because your eyes were brimming with unshed tears. “M’sorry, Chris”, you mumble.

His heart sank. Shit.

"I didn’t mean to-" He took a step toward you, his frustration suddenly replaced with guilt. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he took another step closer. "I just, sometimes I get overwhelmed, and it’s not your fault, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, feeling embarrassed. "I didn’t mean to talk too much. I... I just got excited." Your voice came out quieter, a bit shaky, and the more you tried to explain, the harder it was to keep the tears in.

Chris cursed under his breath, guilt washing over him. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that." His tone softened, and he gently reached out, his fingers brushing your arm in a quiet apology. "It’s not you. It’s me. I’ve just been holding all this stuff in today, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you."

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. "No, no, it’s okay. I didn’t realise I was rambling so much. I’m sorry."

Chris’s expression softened even more, and he carefully reached up to brush a tear from your cheek. His touch tender, and he pulled you into a loose hug. "I don’t want to make you feel bad. You’re not annoying, okay? I was just... not in the right headspace, and I shouldn’t have said that. Like that, either."

You looked up at him, the tension easing a bit, but you still felt a little self-conscious. "I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just... I guess the caffeine did its thing."

Chris raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I think you plus coffee is not a good combination," he teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension between you both starting to fade. "Maybe," you said with a playful shrug. "I wasn’t really thinking when I grabbed it. I don’t usually drink it so late."

Chris’s smile widened. "Yeah, no kidding. You’ve got like a sugar high. Might need to take you for a walk to wear you out."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was genuine now. "Hey, I’m not that bad. You were the one getting all cranky."

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Fair enough. Next time, I’ll just steal your coffee before you get the chance."

Chris stepped a little closer, his hand still gently resting on your arm. "I’m really sorry, though. I shouldn’t have gotten frustrated. It wasn’t about you."

"It’s okay," you replied, the earlier awkwardness now replaced with something more comfortable. 

With a last soft smile, Chris nodded. "Alright. All good?"

"All good," you said.

creds to rose for the divider! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: now i want coffee lol. fun fact i am indeed not allowed to drink it.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

cya very sooooon!