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loverboysturn · 2 hours ago

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‘UNFAITHFUL’ — CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing. chris sturniolo x fem!reader genre. angst. word count. 3.1k

❝you don’t get to talk about love, chris. not after what you did. love doesn’t look like that.❞

content warning. cheating, insecurities, cursing, heartbreak, breakdowns, shit relationships and shit friendships.

authors note. still on a writing hiatus, just in my feels and wanted to do something. this is very angsty and yet again, no happy ending. no part twos either. (sorry)

You had always been wary of the closeness between your boyfriend and your best friend.

It wasn’t jealousy—at least that’s what you told yourself. You wanted them to get along as it would’ve been awkward if they didn’t. But sometimes, their smiles felt too private, their touches lingered just a second too long, and the way their eyes found each other in a crowded room made your stomach twist in knots.

Still, you ignored it. You had to. After all, these were the two people you loved the most in the world. You told yourself it was all in your head, that your own insecurities were painting them in such a bad light. And even when they started spending time with you, you silenced the small voice beside you that begged you to question it.

You were too blinded by happiness. You were happy that your two favourite people in the world had not only cherished you deeply, but also got along so well.

But now, standing frozen in the bedroom doorway after returning from visiting your parents, your breath catches in your throat—ragged and shallow—as your eyes burn, the tears blurring your vision, but unfortunately not enough to hide the sight in front of you.

Chris, the person you thought you’d spend forever with, is tangled up in the sheets with Ani, your best friend. Their naked bodies move together in a way that leaves no room for doubt that they’ve done this before, and the sounds that spill from their lips pierces through the air.

“Oh my god!” It’s Ani who notices you first, her face contorting in horror as she turns her head at the right moment. She scrambles to grab the blanket to cover herself as if that will erase what’s already been done.

Confused by her outburst, Chris props himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing for a split second before his gaze finds yours. His eyes widen in panic, his face draining of colour as the realisation hits him like cold water.

“W-wait, wait, wait,” he stammers quickly, shoving Ani off him as he stumbles out of bed, his movements frantic and clumsy as his hands shake, reaching for you. “It’s not—it’s not what it looks like, I—please, let me just—I need to explain.”

“Don’t touch me,” you choke out, barely able to speak through the lump resting in your throat. You take a step back, your hands trembling as you push him away from you.

“Please,” he begs, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. The tears begin to well in his eyes, but they only make you angrier. “Please, baby. Don’t—don’t do this. Just hear me out. Please—”

You can’t bear to look at him any longer, so your gaze shifts to Ani who is sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket to her bare chest. Her face is flushed and her eyes are glassy with bubbling tears, but she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. The guilt etched across her face says enough.

Turning away from both of them, you spin on your heel and walk out of the room, your legs trembling beneath you which makes it harder for you to move in a straight line. Chris calls out your name, his voice cracking, but you don’t stop. You can hear him fumbling behind you, the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he hurriedly follows while grabbing his boxers, pulling them on in a rush as he chases after you.

“Wait!” he cries, his hand catching your arm just as you round the corner. His touch burns, and you yank yourself free with a sob, slapping his hand away as the tears stream down your cheeks.

You’re shaking now, your chest heaving with every breath as the weight of what you’ve just seen crashes down on you.

“Please… please, baby,” Chris pleads, refusing to let up. “Just listen to me, okay? Please. Don’t walk away from us—don’t throw this away.”

You freeze, his words hitting you like a slap to the face. “Don’t walk away from us?” you find yourself repeating, words riddled with disbelief. “Are… are you serious right now? You walked away from us the second you started fucking her!”

Chris flinches, his face crumpling as your words cut through him. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, breaking into a sob as he takes a step closer, his hands trembling as he cups your face. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it, okay? I didn’t—please, just don’t go. I love you. I love you so much. I love you.”

The pain in his voice only deepens your own, and you shake your head repeatedly, your tears falling faster as you try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his own tears mingling with yours as his grip tightens.

You want to push him away, to scream and curse and hate him with every fiber of your being, but your body betrays you as the sobs wrack through you. Your knees buckle beneath your weight, and Chris catches you with ease, his arms wrapping around you tight as you collapse against him.

He holds you like he’s trying to piece you back together, to try and mend what’s been broken as his own cries echo yours. He strokes the back of your head and whispers apologies you don’t want to hear.

Chris loves you—he swears it, over and over again—but love doesn’t fix anything.

He loves you, but he’s destroyed you too.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” Chris whispers softly as you stiffly sit across from him at the table in the café. The room feels too calm and chilled compared to what’s brewing inside you both. It’s been a little over a week since you last saw Chris, having pulled out of his arms and bolting out of the house in a rush after your breakdown. “I’m, uh.. I’m happy that you came.”

“You and your brothers didn’t exactly give me a choice,” you reply coldly, and the embarrassed flush that creeps up his neck tells you he knows exactly what you mean. His brothers had practically begged you to hear him out, to give him one last chance to explain himself.

You had agreed, but not because you wanted to. You had agreed because you needed the closure—you needed answers.

Your hands tremble as you rub them together for warmth as you can feel them tingle with numbness. Chris notices this instantly. Of course he does. He always did have a way of reading you—knowing what you needed before you even had to ask, and just like he would have done before, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours.

“C’mere, let me—”

“No,” you yank your hands back before his warmth can touch you, despite craving the heat that emits from his palms. You refuse to let him soothe you. Not now. Not after everything.

Chris flinches at your harsh words and actions, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just… I didn’t—”

“Can you just tell me what you wanted to say?” you interrupt, your tone a lot colder than you meant it.

“Everything that happened that day… it didn’t mean shit,” Chris jumps straight into it, his voice raw and desperate as he leans forward on the table. “It was a huge fucking mistake, okay? And—and I don’t even know how it got that far. I fucked up. Bad. I know that. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I didn’t want it to happen. You… you’ve got to believe me.”

You let his words hang in the air, only hearing the distant clatter of cups and the coffee machines humming. Then, you speak, your voice steady but ice-cold. “How did Ani get into the house?”

Chris freezes, his face paling. His lips part like he’s about to respond, but no words come out.

You press on, “How did her clothes come off? How did she get naked in our bed? How did you end up inside her?” Your breath hitches for a moment, the bile rising in your throat. “Did she do it all by herself?”

Chris’ expression crumbles, and you believe he might actually break down right here in the middle of this café. But instead, he shakes his head quickly, his hands trembling on the table.

“Ani means nothing to me. Nothing. But you mean everything to me, you always have,” he says, licking his lips nervously. “You’re the first woman I ever fell in love with, okay? And I swear to god, you’ll be the last.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back, unwilling to let him see you cry. Chris, on the other hand, makes no effort to hide as his shoulders shake slightly, his bright blues red-rimmed and glassy.

“I just… shit, baby. I love you so much, and I can’t forgive myself for what I did. I’ll never forgive myself. Ever.”

“Chris,” you speak his name, and his eyes snap up to meet yours, something desperate and hopeful swimming in his irises. “You don’t get to talk about love, Chris. Not after what you did. Love doesn’t look like that.”

Chris opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to silence him. “You don’t get to apologise either. You don’t get to tell me it was a ‘mistake’ and that it ‘doesn’t mean shit’ because you made that choice in the first place. You chose her.”

He shakes his head quickly as his tears fall freely. “What? No... no, I didn’t choose her, baby. I—”

“And you can’t say you love me when you were in bed with another woman. In the same bed where we shared our first kiss. In the same bed where I gave you my virginity. In the same bed where we made promises about our future together.”

“W-we can still do that,” Chris stammers, filled with fragile hope. “Baby, look at me. We can still keep those promises, okay? We can still have that future,” his hand twitches on the table like he wants to reach for yours. “We can fix this, I swear—”

“What are you not understanding?!” you cut him off, your voice rising in a way that startles even you. Chris flinches back at your volume, his wide and tearful eyes locked on yours. “That promise was broken the second you got into bed with Ani. You fucked up everything we had. Everything.”

“I…” his voice cracks as he tries to speak. “I’m so sorry,”

His shoulders sag, and he wipes his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, looking like a pitiful man who’s just lost everything—and he has.

You shake your head, tears now spilling from your eyes as you bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to ground yourself. You turn your head away from him and toward the window, watching the world outside as it moves on without you, and your stomach churns as you spot couples strolling by; their hands intertwined, their faces lit up with the kind of love and happiness you used to know.

One couple walks past, laughing as they nuzzle into each other’s arms, and the sight makes your chest tighten, their joy feeling like a slap in the face to remind you of what you’ve lost too.

It feels cruel, like the universe is mocking you.

You swallow hard as the bitterness consumes you. The thought of someone else’s love life makes you feel sick. It’s as if their happiness is rubbing salt into a wound that’s already bleeding you dry.

You want to run. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to disappear.

Actually, you just want to go home. To go home and to shut the world out.

“I’m gonna go,” your voice is quiet, but Chris hears it loud and clear as you push yourself up from your seat, zipping your coat as your hands tremble.

His eyes widen in panic, and he shoots to his feet. “Wait—wait, please,” he begs. “Don’t go. Please just… just stay a little longer. I—”

“Don’t contact me again,” you say, watching as he blinks, taken aback. “We’re done. For good. We… we’re never getting back together, Chris… not after this.”

Chris’ tears fall harder as he chokes out, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Before you can stop him, he grabs your arm and pulls you into a hug. You freeze as his arms wrap around you tightly—desperately—and you let him hold you, only because you know it’ll be the last time. You pat his back awkwardly, the gesture hollow and distant, but you don’t pull away. You let him cling to you as he sobs into your shoulder, his body shaking against yours.

Finally, he loosens his hold, his tear-streaked face tilting to meet your gaze. His eyes are all red, swollen, pleading.

“I love you.”

“Goodbye, Chris.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the café, refusing to look back at him as you push open the door—not even when you hear his broken sobs behind you.

“Chris hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s not eating either,” Nick says as soon as he walks through the front door of your apartment. He doesn’t even stop to take off his jacket as he heads straight for the sofa where you’re curled up under a blanket, a pint of ice-cream nestled in your lap. “He comes out of his room with bags under his eyes. Sometimes he doesn’t come out at all. It’s… it’s getting concerning.”

“Shame,” you mutter, scooping a spoonful of vanilla ice-cream and shoving it into your mouth. You keep your eyes glued to the TV as you pretend Nick isn’t even there. “Did you know the actor in this is forty? He looks twenty-seven at most… insane.”

Nick glances at the screen. “Haven’t you already seen this episode?”

“Yep.”

Your attention stays fixed on the TV as the main character and her love interest bicker back and forth over something stupid, and you let out a soft scoff, spooning another mouthful of ice-cream into your mouth.

It’s so much easier to focus on fiction problems than your own.

However, Nick doesn’t take the hint.

“Chris said you’re completely done with him, like, I’m talking there’s no chance of you two getting back together,” his words come out slow and cautious as he eyes you. “I think you should reconsider, you know? Maybe just give him one more chance to fully explain himself. Just the two of you—no distractions.”

You glance down at your phone, ignoring the knot tightening in your chest. “I think it’s supposed to be really sunny tomorrow,” you say lightly, opening your weather app. “I might head down to the park or something.”

Nick blinks, baffled. “Are you even listening to me? Chris is—”

“Oh my god, Nick. Just stop!”

The words explode from your mouth before you can stop them, and Nick physically recoils, his eyes widening in shock with his hand firm against his chest. You throw the blanket off your lap and rub your palm against your forehead, exhaling heavily as the frustration burns through your veins.

“You do this all the time… Chris did that, Chris did that. Chris feels like this, Chris feels like that—I don’t care!”

“Hey… calm—”

“Look, I know he’s your brother. I get that, but you’re constantly talking about him. You bring him up in every single conversation we have now, and you’re pitying him like he’s the victim in all of this!” The tears begin to well in your eyes as your voice cracks, but you don’t stop as you feel the anger bubbling up, making you powerless to contain it. “Chris wasn’t the one who got cheated on, Nick. Chris wasn’t the one who had to find a new place to live. Chris wasn’t the one who walked in on the love of his life balls deep in his best friend!”

Nick raises his hands in a defensive gesture, his voice softening. “I’m just trying to—”

“You know, you haven’t even asked me how I’m feeling. Not even once,” your voice wavers now, raw and broken as you stare at him with tears dripping down your cheeks. “You come over just to shove information about him down my throat. You… you’re making it impossible for me to breathe. It’s like I can’t even catch a break from him even though we broke up four weeks ago. Four weeks, Nick.”

“I just wanted to—”

“So, what do you even tell him when you see him?” you cut him off, your tone sharp. You’re aware that interrupting him all the time is starting to affect him as his jaw tightens a little, but you don’t care. “Do you tell him how shitty I’ve looked or felt? Do you tell him that I cried for days until I was too numb to cry anymore? Do you tell him that I spent weeks wallowing in self-hatred wondering when I had become such a shitty girlfriend that he felt the need to cheat on me? Do you tell him that I blamed myself for all of it? That I thought I wasn’t good enough?”

Nick stares at you, stunned into silence. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as he looks down. “It’s not like that,” he mutters. “I try to cheer him up, okay? He’s a—”

“You try to cheer him up,” you repeat with a bitter, humourless laugh. You sniffle, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. “That’s great, Nick. That’s all I needed to know.”

Nick frowns as he takes a step toward you, “You’re taking everything I say the wrong way—”

“You’re a really shitty friend, Nick,” you cut him off once again, and the words hit him like a punch to the throat. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump and his face falls. “It’s good to know where I stand with you on your friendship scale. Or are you only acting this way because it’s your brother? He gets a free pass?”

“I…” he opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out as he looks at you helplessly.

“Just get out of my apartment,” you say firmly. “Go console your brother… make sure he’s all fine and well,” you turn on your heel, heading toward your bedroom with every intention of shutting the door and locking the world out.

But before you turn the corner, you pause, glancing back over your shoulder to see Nick who hasn’t moved an inch; standing there frozen with his eyes filled with tears and guilt as he stares at you.

“I don’t want to see any of your faces again.”

#꒰ library ⋆˙⟡𐙚 #꒰ chris fic recs ⋆˙⟡𐙚

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loverboysturn · 1 day ago

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ꕀ birdie hates thunderstorms, but she'll always leave the window open for chris.

au masterlist here ⋮ asks & requests for this au are ⋮ open.

note: reaaaally subtle future lore drop in this. started this a while ago and didn’t love it but it’s fitting to the weather outside rn so decided to finish it :)

you haven’t spoken to chris in three days, not since the fight at nick’s friend’s party.

the night had started out fine between the two of you, until it wasn’t fine. it was petty really, you had gotten stroppy with him over another girl flirting with him, so he got mean back, then you got meaner, he walked off so you blocked him in the uber home and there’s been a silence from both of you ever since.

but now it’s late and you’re home alone. it’s pitch black outside, the rain is coming down thick and fast smashing against your bedroom windows and the thunder is so loud tonight that your room feels like it’s shaking with each strike. you’ve always hated storms, ever since you were little so you do what you always do when they happen.. hide under the covers, wrapped up in one of chris’s hoodies, attempting but failing, to ignore the sky every time it lights up.

but then you hear it.

that so recognisable rhythm of three taps against your window, and you know exactly who it is.

you’re jumping out of bed before you can even think about it, pulling the curtain to the side to see chris standing on your balcony. he’s completely soaked through, black hoodie clinging to him, dripping wet from the rain but his eyes are fixed on you.

part of you wants to stay mad at him, but the thunder roars again and your chest tightens, filling you with anxiety and the truth is… all you really want right now is him.

he taps again, raising his brow at you. “you gonna let me in or what?”

you sigh, pushing the window open that you’d left unlocked with the hope he’d turn up tonight, you step back to let him in which he does without a word. everything about the room feels tense right now, like neither of you wants to be the first to speak up.

“chris, you’re dripping all over my floor,” you mutter, heading over to your dresser to get him one of his dry hoodies you keep in his own drawer.

his eyes follow you, until they land on the vase of flowers sitting by your mirror. dark pink and yellow tulips.

he nods at them, “new flowers?”

you glance at them, then back at him. “thought they might’ve been a peace offering from you.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “nah, bird. not me. they’re not the colours i know you like, and also i know you hate tulips.” he kicks his shoes off, “they’re not even from the florist you like.”

you don’t get a chance to say anything back, because he’s walking over to you then, and when he reaches you, he lifting both hands to your face and cupping it, his thumb brushing gently against your cheeks.

“look, c’mon birdie, i’m sorry.” he says, voice soft.

your eyes look up to meet his. “for what?”

“for the other night. for making you feel unwanted by me,” he leans in a little. “but you know you’re the only girl for me, birdie. you’re forever the only girl.”

“i don’t wanna fight with you anymore, chris.”

“then don’t.” he says, before he’s leans in and kisses you. it’s slow, warm and familiar, and for the first time tonight the storm outside quiets down, even if it’s just for a moment.

his hand moves to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens and he pulls you closer like he’s needed this.

you tug gently at the hem of his soaked hoodie and he pulls his lips away from yours, a smirk creeping at them. “already forgiven me, huh?”

you roll your eyes. “you’re dripping all over my rug, idiot,”

chris laughs at that, letting you peel the hoodie off of him, the residue drops of water dripping all over the floor. “sure you’re not trying to rip my clothes off?”

“you wish,” you say, flicking a droplet from his shoulder before you wrap your arms around his neck.

“oh you know i’ll always wish for you, birdie girl.”

#꒰ soulmate au prompt ⋆˙⟡𐙚 #꒰ soulmate!chris #꒰ soulmate!reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader

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