sturnzsblog

[sturnzsblog]

Look at him

summary: Y/N teases Matt all day in nothing but his shirt. When she flirts with Chris, Matt snaps — and punishes her

Warnings: heavy dom/sub, public humiliation, forced apology, degradation + praise, forced eye contact, fingering, rough sex, overstimulation, praise kink, spanking, jealousy kink

The day started simple — quiet house, slow morning, just you and Matt at home. You were wearing nothing but his favorite faded t-shirt, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs.

Matt noticed it the second you padded into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and smug. His eyes dragged up and down your body as you grabbed a mug from the cabinet — arms up, shirt rising, a full flash of your bare ass on display.

“You’re not wearing anything under that,” he muttered from the doorway, brow raised.

You smiled over your shoulder, playing innocent. “So?”

He stepped closer. “Put on shorts.”

You stretched, arms high, swaying your hips on purpose. “Nah. I’m comfortable.”

He steps closer “Go put on shorts,” he muttered way more firm.

You took a sip of coffee and smiled into your mug. “Why?”

He looked at you, eyes heavy.

You blinked up at him sweetly. “You don’t like it?”

He paused. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not,” you said, feigning innocence. “I’m just being comfortable.”

Matt didn’t respond. Just stared for one long second… and walked away.

That was mistake number one.

Because the lack of reaction only made you brattier.

You followed him into the living room and sat across from him, legs up, thighs spread wide enough to flash everything — still no panties.

He didn’t look.

So you picked up your phone and “accidentally” dropped it under the couch.

Then slowly — too slowly — got on all fours to reach for it.

Head down, ass up. Your shirt barely covered anything. You even wiggled a little. Just enough.

Still nothing.

When you came up for air, you pouted. “You’re really not gonna do anything?”

Matt glanced at you, stone-faced. “Keep going. See what happens.”

That didn’t scare you.

Not yet.

So you kept going.

Later, you passed by him on the couch, “accidentally” brushing your bare thigh against his hand. When he glanced at you, you smiled sweetly.

“You good, Matty?”

“Fine,” he said flatly.

You giggled and walked away.

In the bedroom, you made it worse — standing in front of the mirror, humming softly as you fixed your hair, your bare ass sticking out with every tiny movement. You tugged the shirt off your shoulder, revealing more skin.

Matt appeared in the doorway.

You met his eyes in the mirror and whispered, “Do you like when I wear your stuff like this?”

He stared for a moment.

Then left the room.

That reaction only made it more fun.

When lunchtime came around, you climbed onto the kitchen counter — swinging your legs, letting the shirt ride higher and higher — and started scrolling your phone like nothing was happening. Matt was across from you, eating in silence.

You moaned softly after a bite of fruit, licking your fingers slowly and letting your eyes wander to him.

He gripped his fork a little tighter.

Still said nothing.

Then you hit him with the final straw.

Right before Chris was due to come over, you plopped down in Matt’s lap while he scrolled on his phone. You bounced slightly. Just enough to feel him beneath you.

He didn’t touch you.

You rocked your hips once.

Nothing.

“You’re hard,” you whispered smugly.

His grip on his phone tightened.

You leaned into his ear. “You gonna punish me, Matty?”

And then — the doorbell rang.

Chris.

You hopped off, grinning. “Guess not.”

⸻

Chris walked in like he always did — casual, drowsy, hoodie up.

“Damn,” he said when he saw you. “Did I come too early?”

“Nope,” you chirped, twirling. “Just comfy.”

“We’re just watching movies. You want water? Beer?”

Chris nodded, walking into the living room.

You leaned forward so slowly to grab a drink from the fridge, ass fully facing him, shirt lifting just enough to flash skin. When you turned back around, you caught both of them watching.

Perfect.

“What do ya wanna watch?” you asked, sitting on the couch — sprawled out right between them.

You pressed your thighs together. Let the shirt ride up again.

Chris leaned back. “whatever. i don’t mind”

Matt hadn’t said a word in ten minutes.

You just smiled and whispered into Matt’s ear, “You’re being so calm again. Should I try harder?”

Matt didn’t say a word.

⸻

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that you crossed the line.

You giggled at something Chris said, tossed your hair, and playfully grabbed at his bicep. “When did you get muscles?”

Chris blushed, laughing awkwardly. “Relax.”

And then — silence.

And when you reached over and touched Chris’s arm — playful, flirty, stupid — you didn’t expect Matt to finally move.

But he did.

He stood.

Calm.

Slow.

Dangerous.

“Chris,” he said, voice even.

Chris looked up.

Matt didn’t look at him — just stared at you.

“You can stay right there.”

Your smile faltered.

“Matt—”

His voice dropped. “Stand up.”

You blinked. “I didn’t—”

“I said stand up.”

You hesitated.

Then obeyed.

Matt stepped closer. “Take the shirt off.”

“Wait—” you whispered. “Matt, he’s—”

“Now.”

Your hands trembled, but you pulled it over your head, heat rising to your face as you stood there — fully bare — in front of both of them.

Chris froze. “Yo—what is—”

“Hands on the couch,” Matt ordered, ignoring his brother entirely.

You slowly turned, bent over, pressing your palms to the back cushion.

Matt stepped behind you and slipped two fingers between your thighs — groaning when he felt how soaked you were.

“Fucking dripping,” he muttered. “You love this.”

You whimpered.

And then — the first crack of his hand against your ass.

You gasped.

Chris shifted on the couch. “Matt—bro—”

Matt grabbed your jaw from behind and growled, “Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Matty—”

“No,” he snapped. “Not to me.”

You froze.

“Look at him.”

Your heart dropped.

“Look at Chris.”

“No—Matt, please—”

“Look at him.”

You turned your head, shame flooding your face. Chris looked horrified — his eyes wide, his face red, like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

And you had to say it

His fingers shoved into you roughly — you cried out.

“i-im sorry chris!” you locked eyes with him with a slight pout on your face.



Chris stammered, “It’s… fine. You’re good.”

You moaned.

Matt smirked darkly. “Oh, you liked that?”

You nodded helplessly, breath hitching.

He tsked in your ear.

“Fucking pathetic. Can’t go five minutes without someone calling you a good girl, huh?”

Your eyes were glassy. Your legs shook.

Matt leaned forward, lips against your ear.

“Let him watch what a whore you are for me.”

Then — he pulled his fingers out, grabbed your hips, and shoved himself inside you in one hard, punishing thrust.

You screamed.

“Look at him.”

Your head snapped back to Chris — who was now sitting there, frozen, fists clenched in his lap, not even blinking.

Matt fucked into you hard. Fast. Each thrust making your ass slap loud against his hips. His hand stayed locked around your throat.

“Don’t look away.”

Matt groaned behind you. “You like this? You like him watching while I ruin you?”

You sobbed. “Yes, Matty—please—”

He didn’t slow.

“Tell her she’s a good girl,” Matt barked at Chris.

Chris swallowed. “She’s… you’re a good girl.”

You whimpered, head falling forward.

Matt grabbed your throat and pulled your head back up.

“Oh, you loved that. Don’t hide now.”

His thrusts sped up.

“Fucking dripping for my brother’s praise. Embarrassed? You should be.”

He slammed harder. “Does it turn you on when someone else sees how filthy you are?”

You could barely speak.

Your orgasm was building, tight and frantic.

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” he warned. “Not until he says you can.”

Chris’s jaw dropped. “Matt—”

“She started it. Let her finish on your word.”

Chris shifts in his seat pressing down on his shaft. “Uh… you can. I-I guess…”

Matt tsk as he speeds up his hand roams down rubbing your clit. “not good enough.” he smiles. “you don’t guess you know.”

You looked at Chris, breathless. “Please…”

Chris looked like he might die on the spot.

Chris’s voice cracked. “You can cum.”

And you did — violently.

Screaming. Twitching. Crying.

Matt fucked you through it until you collapsed into the couch, limp and ruined.

Only then did he pull out.

Only then did he kiss your shoulder.

Chris stood up, practically sprinting toward the door.

“I’m—uh—I’ll let you guys—”

Matt didn’t look up.

Just held you tighter and whispered, “Next time you act up in front of someone… I’ll film it.”

You whimpered.

He smiled.

Game over.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturnxvibes @jaybirdie34 @izzylovesmatt @sturnxluvv

[sturnzsblog]

Not worth it 3

Summary: Y/N never planned on falling in love with a gangster — until she met Matt. Mysterious, dangerous, and fiercely loyal, he drags her into a world of crime, secrets, and bloodshed. What starts as passion turns into obsession, violence, and survival.

warnings: Violence & gun use, Murder / blood / graphic scenes, Kidnapping / captivity, Torture / psychological manipulation, Mentions of death, trauma, & PTSD, Toxic relationship dynamics, Jealousy / possessive behavior,Alcohol / drug mentions,Language / explicit content (sexual & violent),Loss / grief, Mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, dissociation),References to past abuse (implied),Emotional manipulation / codependency

The silence in the van wasn’t normal. It wasn’t peaceful. It was that charged kind of silence before something explodes — and I could feel it building in my chest with every mile we drove.

My hands were slick with sweat, even though I kept wiping them on my jeans.

Matt sat beside me, close enough that our legs touched. He hadn’t said much. He didn’t need to.

His hand was on my thigh — fingers pressing just firm enough to keep me anchored, like he could feel the panic trying to crawl up my spine.

I leaned into the warmth of his palm and stared out the windshield.

We weren’t just doing recon tonight.

This was real.

“You sure?” he’d asked me hours ago, back in his room, eyes searching mine like they were trying to pull the truth out before I said it.

“I want to help,” I told him. “Not just pretend to be useful. I need to do this, Matt.”

He looked at me for a long time. Then said the one thing I didn’t expect: “Then don’t leave my side.”

I didn’t plan to.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, lit by a single busted security light that flickered like a warning. Nate’s voice was low in the front seat. “Two entrances. One guard posted. Lights on in the upstairs office. Looks like they’re in a meeting.”

“Which means whatever they’re moving is here,” Chris said.

“Get in. Get out,” Nate reminded us. “No mistakes.”

When the van stopped, Matt turned to me. His voice dropped low. “You do exactly what I say. If I tell you to run, you fucking run. No hero shit. Understand?”

“I understand,” I whispered.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

⸻

Inside, the warehouse was stale and reeked of old metal and cigarettes. Every footstep sounded too loud. Matt kept me behind him, one hand always grazing mine like a leash made of skin. He was tense. Eyes scanning. Watching everything.

There were five men. They hadn’t seen us yet.

We split.

Matt gave me one job: get to the upstairs office and grab the papers on the desk. Blueprints. Shipping routes. Something the crew needed.

“Go when I say,” he whispered in my ear. His lips brushed my hair. “Be fast, baby. I’ll be right behind you.”

My heart pounded so hard it hurt.

Then: “Now.”

I took off, slipping past shadows, darting up the metal stairs. My boots barely made a sound. I made it to the office — heart in my throat, lungs burning — and snatched the folder from the desk. Easy.

Too easy.

Because when I turned, there was someone behind me.

A big man. Eyes mean and gleaming. He grabbed me by the arm and slammed me against the wall so hard my teeth rattled.

“Got you, pretty thing.”

I screamed — more out of shock than fear — and twisted, trying to rip my arm free, but he was too strong. His gun was out. I barely saw it before he had it pressed to the underside of my jaw.

I froze.

He smelled like sweat and whiskey. His body was pressed tight to mine, suffocating me. I couldn’t move. I could barely think.

“Let me go,” I whispered. “Please. Don’t—don’t do this.”

He laughed.

That ugly, mocking laugh that made my stomach turn. His free hand started sliding down my side, over my ribs. Too slow. Too disgusting.

“Get off me,” I begged, squirming. “Please don’t touch me—Matt’s downstairs—he’ll kill you—”

“Oh, he won’t get here in time.”

His hand moved lower. My breath caught.

I felt it — the panic — full-blown and crashing through me. My mind screamed. My legs kicked weakly, but he pinned me harder, one hand still wrapped around my throat with the barrel pressing just below my chin.

And then — muscle memory. Training. Something Matt had drilled into me over and over again.

My hand slipped to my waistband.

The cold steel kissed my fingers.

I pulled the gun.

“Let. Me. Go,” I warned. My voice didn’t even sound like mine.

He smiled — this sick, evil smile — and leaned in closer, daring me.

“Go ahead.”

So I did.

I pulled the trigger.

The sound shattered the room.

He dropped instantly — dead weight collapsing like a sack of bricks. Blood sprayed across the wall behind him, some hitting my face, hot and metallic.

I stood there frozen.

Gun still in my hand.

My breath came in shallow gasps. My whole body trembled.

I just shot someone.

I killed him.

I was going to be sick—

“Y/N!”

Matt’s voice cut through the haze.

And then he was there. Ripping the gun from my hand, pushing it into his waistband, and pulling me into his arms all in one movement. I collapsed into him, fists clutching his shirt.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he kept saying, holding me so tight I thought I’d break. “I told you to wait—I should’ve—fuck—I’m so sorry—”

“He touched me,” I choked out. “He—he wouldn’t stop—”

“I know, baby. I know. You did the right thing. You saved yourself.”

My legs gave out. He caught me.

He didn’t let go the entire way home.

⸻

We didn’t speak on the ride back.

Chris and Skye sat up front. Nate and Nick rode silent. Nobody said a word.

Matt held me in his lap in the backseat, one hand in my hair, the other gripping my waist. I think he was shaking too.

When we got home, I went straight to the shower. Scrubbed until my skin burned. I couldn’t stop seeing his face. Couldn’t stop feeling his hand on me.

Matt came in when the water was still running. He didn’t say anything at first. Just climbed into the shower in his clothes and wrapped his arms around me.

“I thought I lost you,” he said finally, voice cracking.

“I didn’t want to be scared,” I whispered. “I thought I could handle it.”

“You did,” he said. “You were fucking brave. But I’ll never forget the sound you made when I found you.”

I turned in his arms, burying my face in his chest.

His hand cradled the back of my neck.

“I should’ve gotten to you faster.”

“You got there when it mattered.”

“I never want you to feel that powerless again.”

“Then don’t leave me.”

He tilted my chin up, kissed me like I was made of glass. Slow. Deep. Like he needed to remind himself I was real.

He whispered it into every kiss after that.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re everything to me.”

“I’d kill for you.”

He proved it, over and over, as we tangled in the sheets. Not rough. Not angry. Just raw — desperate — vulnerable. Like he needed to love me right to erase the memory of almost losing me.

And maybe I needed him just as much to forget what it felt like when I pulled the trigger.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturnxvibes @jaybirdie34 @izzylovesmatt @sturnxluvv

[sturnzsblog]

any specific date on when “not worth it” pt.3 will be out, no rush just definitely here for it and I’m so invested in this lol💗. xx

Tonight!! 🎉🎉

[sturnzsblog]

stranger

Summary: Y/n learns to trust again after meeting Chris who eerily resembles her abusive ex.

warnings: Domestic abuse (verbal, emotional, physical – past), PTSD/flashbacks,emotional trauma,Gaslighting (referenced),Mentions of infidelity ,Anxiety/panic responses

The thing about trauma no one warns you about is how it lingers — not just in your chest, but in your eyes.

You don’t look at people the same after being broken by someone you loved. Your brain becomes an archive of warning signs. Your skin memorizes every bruise. And your heart? It forgets how to believe anyone.

I used to think love was supposed to be soft. Gentle. Safe.

Michael taught me otherwise.

He taught me that love was confusion — sweet words followed by slamming doors, roses followed by bruises. He never hit me like a man in the movies. It was more clever than that. Slaps that didn’t leave marks. Shoves when no one was looking. Words like knives whispered into my skin until I bled in places no one could see.

And still, I stayed. Because that’s what you do when someone breaks you slowly enough to believe it’s your fault.

It’s been six months since I left.

And some days, I still hear his voice in my head, echoing like a curse I can’t shake.

“You’ll never be loved the way I loved you.”

Sometimes I still felt like he was in the room. His voice echoing from nowhere. His rage still living in the corners of my mind.

“Y/N, you should’ve just shut up.”

“You make me do this. You know that, right?”

“You’re lucky someone even loves you.”

The ghost of his hand was still on my wrist. Even now.

Maybe he’s right.

Because even now, when someone raises their hand too fast or raises their voice too loud, I don’t react like a woman — I react like a girl trapped in a memory.

I was curled up on my couch, knees tucked to my chest, when Hannah barged in like she owned the place. Her keys clattered against the counter, and she held up two dresses like she was a game show host.

“Oh, no,” I muttered. “Don’t even start.”

She didn’t listen. She never did when she had an idea. “You’re coming to the party tonight.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” She tossed one of the dresses at me — black, short, sleeveless, something I hadn’t worn since… before. “We are getting out of this sad-girl bubble. You’re putting on lashes. You’re letting men buy you drinks. We’re starting over.”

I stared at the dress like it was an enemy.

“Hannah, I can’t… I’m not ready for that.”

She softened, sitting beside me. “Then don’t flirt. Don’t talk to anyone. Just come and exist. Let people see you. Let you see you.”

I looked at my reflection in the dark TV screen — hair messy, eyes tired, body still tense like I was waiting for the next outburst.

Maybe I’d been hiding so long I forgot what living felt like.

I sighed. “If I hate it, I’m Ubering home.”

“Deal.” She grinned and shoved a lipstick in my hand. “Now shut up and get pretty.”

The party was louder than I expected. Bodies swayed in the dark, colored lights flickered like warning signs, and I suddenly felt like a ghost haunting someone else’s life.

I clung to my drink and followed Hannah through the crowd until she disappeared with a guy she knew from college. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t even surprised. That was Hannah — get the party started, then vanish into the chaos.

So I stood near the wall, sipping my drink slowly, pretending I wasn’t watching everyone.

That’s when I saw him.

Chris.

At that point, he was just that guy across the room. He had the same jawline. The same blue eyes that flicked with quiet intensity. The way he stood — hands tucked into his pockets, head tilted as he listened to someone — was exactly how Michael used to stand.

My chest clenched.

No. It can’t be. It’s not him. It’s not.

But it was enough of a resemblance to make my stomach twist. I couldn’t stop staring. It was like watching the past walk in wearing new clothes.

He laughed at something, leaned closer to a friend, his smile sharp and boyish and dangerous. My fingers tightened around my glass.

I took a shaky breath. You’re fine. You’re safe. It’s not him.

But the reminder didn’t help. It only made me realize how tightly fear still gripped me.

I turned toward the door, ready to leave. The room was spinning. My throat felt tight. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I would never be.

But before I could take two steps, I heard it.

“Leaving already?”

A voice behind me. Smooth. Curious. Almost amused.

I froze.

His voice was smooth. Not mocking, not aggressive — just… curious.

I turned slowly. He stood right behind me now, tall and calm and impossibly close. Up close, he was even more attractive. And worse — more familiar.

His cologne hit me first — sandalwood and something deeper. Warm. Like safety, if I didn’t know better.

His eyes met mine. “You okay?”

I nodded too fast. “Yeah, I just… needed air.”

He smiled, just a little. “You’ve been staring at me all night.”

My breath caught. “What?”

“I don’t mind,” he said, hands tucked into his pockets. “Just thought maybe you’d say hi.”

I hated the way he made me nervous.

I hated that he looked like someone I once begged to stop hurting me.

I hated that my voice came out smaller than I wanted. “Sorry. You just look like someone I used to know.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Is that a good thing or…?”

I paused. “Not really.”

He let that hang there a second too long, then nodded slowly. “Fair enough. Still — you didn’t run. That counts for something.”

I didn’t smile. I wanted to. But I couldn’t.

Then he said, “Can I get your number?”

I should have said no.

I should’ve walked away.

But I was tired of being afraid. Tired of being frozen in place by the ghost of someone who didn’t even deserve my breath.

So I said yes.

Meaning no.

Chris — that was his name — started texting the next day.

He was… sweet. He never pressured me to meet up, just sent memes and asked about my day. We talked about music, childhood stories, dreams we didn’t say out loud. I told him about my art. He told me about his sister. He always made me laugh.

But slowly, things started to shift.

One night, he snapped at the barista for messing up his drink. The tone was quick — sharp — and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Another time, he reached out to touch my waist as we crossed a street, and my body recoiled like it remembered something it shouldn’t.

Chris noticed. Every time.

But I never explained.

Not until the night I finally broke.

We were on his couch, legs tucked under me, a movie playing in the background that neither of us was really watching. Chris had been telling a story about his sister getting in trouble for sneaking out in high school. I laughed — genuinely — and for a second, I forgot.

Forgot who he reminded me of. Forgot what I’d been through. Forgot the weight I carried like armor.

And then I said something — I don’t even remember what it was — maybe teasing him about being overprotective. He sat up, animated, voice raising just a little as he got passionate. His hands moved fast when he talked, expressive and full of energy.

But all I saw was a flash of Michael, angry, towering, pointing at me, yelling, “Why are you always making shit up?”

Chris’s hand lifted mid-sentence.

I flinched.

Hard.

Like someone had fired a gun in the room.

I pulled away from him instinctively, breath catching in my throat.

The room went still.

Chris froze, eyes wide, hands lowering slowly like he was approaching a frightened animal.

“Y/N,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “Did you think I was gonna hit you?”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. The air in my lungs felt heavy, my vision blurry with unshed tears.

He scooted back, giving me space, both palms out. “Hey. It’s okay. I swear. I’d never…”

But the tears were already slipping out.

I hated this. Hated that even now, months after Michael, my body still didn’t believe I was safe. I hated how easily my past could crawl into my present and steal it away.

Chris’s voice was gentle. “Y/N… come here. Or… no, it’s okay. I’ll sit right here. Just breathe, alright?”

I nodded, trying to pull air into my lungs. I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him. Not over this.

He waited.

Not a word. Not a sound.

Just sat there, watching me fall apart without touching the pieces.

Eventually, I whispered, “It’s not you.”

He tilted his head. “Then what is it?”

“My ex,” I said, the word tasting like acid. “Michael.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. His expression didn’t change, but I saw the anger flash behind his eyes — not directed at me, but at the man who’d made me afraid.

I kept going. “He… wasn’t kind. At first, he was. That’s how it always starts, right? Charming. Gentle. A gentleman.” My voice cracked. “And then it became yelling. Then doors slamming. Then grabbing. Gaslighting. Hurting. Making me feel like I was crazy. That I deserved it.”

Chris was dead silent.

“I stayed for too long,” I whispered. “Because I kept thinking the good version of him would come back. But it never did.”

He blinked slowly. “Y/N… thank you for telling me.”

I wiped at my eyes, embarrassed. “Some days I’m fine. Other days…” I laughed bitterly. “Other days I can’t even handle someone raising their voice without feeling like I’m gonna break.”

Chris scooted forward a little — still not touching me. His voice was rough, but calm. “What did I do tonight that reminded you of him?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered. “It’s just… you started talking with your hands. You got passionate. It wasn’t even aggressive. But my brain didn’t know the difference. It saw you as him for a second.”

He nodded. “Okay. I want you to tell me when that happens. Every time. Don’t protect my feelings. Don’t downplay it. Just tell me.”

I met his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want to make sure I never become a reason you stop healing.”

That hit me so hard I looked away. I wasn’t used to kindness like that — not from a man who looked like Michael. Not from anyone, really.

He reached out, slowly, and placed his hand over mine. I didn’t flinch this time.

“I’m not perfect,” he said, “but I will always stop and listen when you tell me something doesn’t feel safe.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to push you away.”

“You’re not,” he said. “You’re letting me in.”

a couple weeks later things got better. Lighter.

Chris stopped making sarcastic jokes when I looked overwhelmed. He gave me space when I needed it and stayed close when I didn’t. He learned my silences — what they meant and when to speak into them.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.

Until her.

Layla.

She worked with Chris. Blonde, bubbly, friendly. Always texting him. Always tagging him in dumb videos. Always “just stopping by.”

I didn’t want to be jealous.

I didn’t want to care.

But every time I saw her name pop up on his phone, I felt my throat tighten.

It was Michael all over again. The late-night texts. The “you’re just being paranoid” response when I asked who she was. The way I found out too late.

So one night, while Chris was cooking, I asked — carefully.

“Who’s Layla?”

He glanced at his phone, then shrugged. “Co-worker. Why?”

“She texts you a lot.”

He didn’t look up. “Yeah, we’re cool. She’s funny.”

I hesitated. “Are you… into her?”

He laughed. “What? No. She’s like… a guy friend in a girl body.”

“Still,” I said. “She flirts with you.”

He finally turned to me. “You jealous?”

I looked away. “I just… it feels familiar.”

He sighed. “Y/N, you’re overthinking. You’re just being paranoid.”

You’re just being paranoid.

You’re just being paranoid.

You’re just—

My vision blurred. The kitchen faded. My heart raced.

That was what Michael said — every time I confronted him about the other girls. Every time I found evidence. Every time I cried.

“You said the same thing,” I whispered. “He said the same exact thing.”

Chris frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I know this pattern,” I said, voice shaking. “The brushing off. The laughing. The way you’re making me feel like I’m crazy when I’m just scared.”

“Whoa,” he said, hands up. “I’m not making you feel crazy.”

“No?” I snapped. “Because that’s what it feels like. And if you’re doing that, then you’re no different from him.”

His face went hard. “I’m not like him, Y/N.”

“I do not need you,” I spat. “Because you’re just like him.”

Chris took a step back like I’d slapped him.

“Don’t say that.”

“You are.”

“I’m not like him,” he growled. “Stop f**king comparing me to him. I’ve done everything I can to prove I care. And you still see him when you look at me.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

He stared at me. Then walked out.

Didn’t slam the door. Didn’t say goodbye.

Just left.

And didn’t come back that night.

The apartment was quiet.

Not peaceful quiet — but the kind of silence that feels like punishment.

Chris didn’t come back.

I laid on the couch in his hoodie, eyes open, phone untouched beside me. I kept staring at the front door like it might open. Like he might walk in and say it was all a bad dream. But he didn’t.

And I hated myself for what I said.

Because the truth was… Chris wasn’t like Michael.

Not really.

Michael would’ve yelled. Broken something. Blamed me until I apologized for things he caused. But Chris? He walked away. Not out of cruelty, but because I pushed too hard — and he knew I wasn’t ready to hear anything else.

Still, it didn’t make the ache in my chest hurt any less.

“You’re just like him.”

I didn’t even believe it when I said it.

But when fear mixes with memory, it poisons logic. And I’d let it poison him.

Around 9 a.m., the front door creaked.

I didn’t move. Didn’t even pretend I was asleep.

Chris stepped in slowly, his keys clinking against the table, then silence.

I sat up. “Hey.”

His eyes were tired. The collar of his shirt was wrinkled like he’d slept in the car. He didn’t speak at first — just looked at me like he wasn’t sure if I was real or another landmine.

I stood slowly. “I… I didn’t mean what I said.”

He let out a soft breath and leaned against the doorframe. “You looked at me like I was a monster.”

“I was scared,” I admitted. “Not of you. Of myself. Of what I’ve lived through. Of… what I might be messing up.”

He nodded once, lips pressing together. “You said I’m just like him.”

“I know,” I whispered, throat closing up. “That wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

Chris crossed the room and sat on the arm of the couch. Not too close. Just enough that I felt his presence again. He stared at the floor for a long time before saying anything.

“Do you know what that felt like?” he asked quietly. “Trying so hard to be careful with you. To unlearn every little thing that might hurt you. And still getting held up next to a man who treated you like you didn’t matter?”

Tears pricked my eyes.

“I do matter to you,” I whispered.

His voice broke. “So much it scares me.”

My heart cracked open.

He finally looked up at me. “But if you don’t trust me… this isn’t going to work. I can’t love you through a ghost.”

I nodded, wiping under my eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I want to trust you,” I said, my voice shaking. “I really do. But I have to unlearn him. And that’s not a fast process. There are things I see — tiny things — that make alarms go off in my head even when my heart’s screaming that you’re safe.”

Chris reached for my hand.

“You don’t need to be perfect,” he said. “You just need to try.”

I swallowed. “Okay. I promise I’ll try.”

He pulled me in, slowly, giving me the chance to resist.

I didn’t.

His arms wrapped around me, warm and solid, and I buried my face in his shoulder.

He held me tighter than he ever had.

Like he knew I was still pulling myself out of the wreckage and trying to learn how to be held again without fear.

We spent the rest of the morning like that — tangled up, quiet, calm. Not fixed. Not perfect. But okay.

And for the first time, I realized healing wasn’t going to come all at once.

It was going to be this.

Choosing to stay.

Choosing to speak.

Choosing to believe that maybe — just maybe — this new man, this new love, wasn’t just a shadow in disguise.

Chris kissed the side of my head and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. Even when it’s hard. Just meet me halfway.”

And I nodded.

Because even if I still flinched sometimes — I wanted to learn how to stop.

With him.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturnxvibes @jaybirdie34 @izzylovesmatt

[sturnzsblog]

Not worth it 2

Summary: Y/N never planned on falling in love with a gangster — until she met Matt. Mysterious, dangerous, and fiercely loyal, he drags her into a world of crime, secrets, and bloodshed. What starts as passion turns into obsession, violence, and survival.

warnings: Violence & gun use, Murder / blood / graphic scenes, Kidnapping / captivity, Torture / psychological manipulation, Mentions of death, trauma, & PTSD, Toxic relationship dynamics, Jealousy / possessive behavior,Alcohol / drug mentions,Language / explicit content (sexual & violent),Loss / grief, Mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, dissociation),References to past abuse (implied),Emotional manipulation / codependency

I don’t think I’ve ever sprinted upstairs so fast in my life, not even when a storm broke out and I left my car windows open.

“Come on!” I giggle, grabbing Skye’s hand as we race up the penthouse stairs like we’re late for a fashion show. “We only have an hour and I still don’t know what the hell I’m wearing!”

“You’ve had all day!” Skye laughs, breathless behind me. “That red dress you wore last week? Girl, you looked expensive.”

“That was last week. I need to outdo myself.”

We burst into my room and I immediately throw open my closet, clothes flying everywhere as Skye flops down onto the bed dramatically. “Why do you always wait until the last minute to pick an outfit?”

“I thrive under pressure,” I say with a grin, holding up two dresses — a velvet black one and a sequin emerald one.

“Emerald. Brings out your skin.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

I strip down, not even caring as Skye tosses my clothes aside and starts rummaging through my makeup drawer. “We’re going full glam, right?”

“As if there’s any other option.”

Mid-lip liner, Chris barges into the room without knocking. “Hey, baby—”

“CHRIS!” Skye yells, grabbing a pillow to cover herself even though she’s still fully dressed.

Chris just smirks. “Relax, you know I’ve seen it all. I just came to steal you. I need my girl for some me time.”

Skye rolls her eyes and kisses my cheek. “You better tell me all the tea when I get back.”

I laugh and shake my head as Chris whisks her away. I can hear him say something about how her lipstick better not smear — Skye cackles all the way down the hallway.

I turn back to the mirror, blending out my concealer when I hear the door open again.

Matt.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, watching me in the mirror. I smile softly, but he doesn’t return it.

His silence sits heavy in the room, like smoke.

“You know I love you, right?” I say gently.

Matt doesn’t speak. He just nods a little, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, and then looks down at the floor again.

I sigh, blending the highlighter across my cheekbones.

Once I’m done, I stand, smooth the emerald dress down my hips, and walk over to him. He still hasn’t moved. Just watching. Thinking.

I straddle him slowly, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

“I love you so much,” I whisper. “You seem so tense.”

He doesn’t say a word. His hands finally land on my hips.

“Wanna take it out on me?”

I start to roll my hips slowly against him, feeling the tension radiate off his body. The room heats up, charged, silent. His breath hitches. I can feel him hardening under me, but he doesn’t act on it yet.

“I’m right here,” I murmur, kissing the shell of his ear. “Just you and me. Always.”

His grip tightens.

His fingers clenched on my thighs. “You’re playing with fire, baby.”

“Maybe I want to get burned.”

He growled low in his throat, hand sliding up under my skirt—but just then, a knock.

“Let’s go!” Chris’s voice shouted through the door. “We’re late!”

I laughed against Matt’s mouth. “Saved by the bell.”

He let out a deep breath. “Behave tonight.”

“No promises.”

The car ride to the party was a mix of engine growls and electric tension.

We were dressed like sins that had legs—Skye in black leather and silver chains, me in a tight cherry red slip dress that barely clung to my body. Matt hadn’t taken his eyes off me the entire drive, but not in a sweet way. More like he was memorizing how dangerous I looked so he could hate every man who dared to stare.

The entrance to the party was hidden behind a warehouse—nothing flashy, just a single rusted door. You needed a passcode. Chris gave it.

The door buzzed open. Inside?

Hell dressed like heaven.

Music pounded through gold-plated speakers. Velvet drapes spilled from the ceiling. Neon lights flickered across private poker tables, plush booths, and VIP lounges packed with sharp men and sharper women.

People were already gambling, drinking, laughing way too hard. Money and menace lived here. And we were right at home.

Matt leaned toward me as we entered.

“One look. One touch. One move I don’t like… I’ll pull you out of here so fast you’ll forget you’re undercover.”

I gave him a teasing smile. “Careful. That’s kind of hot.”

His glare said he wasn’t playing.

The boys peeled off to their corner table—Matt, Chris, Nate, and Nick, heads down as they started the first round of high-stakes poker. The girls? Well, we had our own mission.

I slipped away quietly, I was the bait tonight—and I played the role well.

Skye leaned in. “We sticking to the target list?”

I nodded. “Marcel, Vaughn, Elijah, and the woman—Kira. You get Kira and Elijah. I’ll handle the other boys.”

Target 1: Marcel

He was young, cocky, smelled like expensive whiskey and too much cologne.

“So you came here alone?” he asked, sipping his drink, eyes dragging down my legs.

I laughed. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No,” he grinned, “but I like the lie.”

We talked. I flirted. He told me he’d been working on a deal—moving new heat from overseas, planning to offload it before the rival crew could touch it. Code words, vague terms, but I was piecing it together.

He leaned in. “Maybe I could show you the goods sometime.”

I twirled the straw in my drink. “I’m more of a hands-on girl.”

i lean in trying to get this conversation elsewhere.

“Nice watch,” I said.

He smirked. “Nice everything.”

We talked. And god he was easy — eager to impress.

“You said you were in finance?” I asked sweetly, twirling a strand of hair.

“Mutual funds,” he said, smug.

Liar.

I leaned in closer. “What kind?”

“The international kind.”

I nearly laughed, but instead smiled coyly. “Ever hear of Triton Holdings?”

He blinked. “Course I have. Why?”

“Just wondering if you know who really owns it. My ex did, and he used to tell me such crazy things…”

He nods as he runs his tongue across his chapped lips. “Uh yeah some guy named Joe. They think they’re so fucking untouchable,” he said, sipping his whiskey. “But I’m making my move soon. Got a meeting with one of the Butchers’ middlemen next week. If I play it right, I take half their territory.”

I nodded, storing the name Butchers for later. “Dangerous game.”

He leaned in. “Yeah, but I like a little danger.”

I giggled slipping away before things got to complicated.

Vaughn was older. Late 30s, salt-and-pepper hair, a predator’s smile. Dangerous in a way that made your skin crawl.

He was in the back, cigar in one hand, watching the girls dance. I walked straight toward him.

Problem was, Lucien liked to touch.

I hated this part. Playing dumb. Flirty. Cute. Especially when the man’s hand crept up my thigh beneath the table.

“So where’s your crew based?” I asked, voice steady.

He grinned, drunk on power. “Too many questions, baby.

i clear my throat trying to change his mind. He needs to answer my questions

“Thirsty?” I asked, sliding beside him, brushing my arm against his.

He chuckled low. “Only if you’re on the menu.”

“I bite,” I warned.

“I like it rough.”

I held in a grimace and laughed. “You’ve got connections. People say you know who’s supplying the heavy hardware out west.”

He tilted his head. “Why would a pretty little thing like you care about that?”

I reached for his lapel, straightened it slowly. “Curiosity.”

His hand slid across my lower back. Too slow. Too deliberate. His fingers dipped under the hem of my dress.

“Tell me what you’re curious about, sweetheart,” he purred.

I tensed—but smiled.

“I heard the supplier moves under a fake name. Something with an ‘L.’ You know him?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

I nodded, pretending not to feel his fingers press in tighter.

Just a little more—

“You’re prettier than the rest of the trash in here,” he said, brushing my waist with his knuckles.

oh. my. fucking. god. stop changing the topic dude.

I smiled tightly. “Wow. You say that to all the girls you assault?”

He laughed. “Feisty.”

He leaned in, whispering something about suppliers, prices, and names—right when his hand slid to the small of my back, then lower. I tensed.

I was so close to getting the name of the arms drop.

He clearly started to get territorial. He got touchy—hand brushing my waist, leaning in like he wanted more than a conversation.

“Careful,” I whispered, pulling back a little. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

He grinned, dark eyes promising trouble. “You don’t know what you want yet.”

Matt’s glare from across the room made my skin prickle, but I stayed. I was close to learning the supplier’s name, the missing piece we needed.

He toyed with his glass. “Rival crew made me an offer. Double what your boys give. But they don’t have you.”

I laughed lightly. “And what makes you think my boys do?”

He shrugged, his eyes dragging down my body. “They don’t look at you like I would.”

I touched his thigh lightly, smiling. “That’s because you don’t know what they’ve already seen.”

He cursed under his breath, leaning closer. “You’re trouble.”

Matt stood up at the table, eyes locked on me. He must’ve seen it — Lucien’s hand too high, my fake smile too stiff.

They’d just won the round. Nate was collecting chips. The guys were grinning.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

The voice behind me was ice and fire at once.

Matt.

He stormed up, jaw locked, eyes burning. Vaughn didn’t even get a word in before Matt yanked me back, gripping my arm roughly.

“Matt—” I gasped.

“She’s mine,” he snapped.

Vaughn stood, smug. “Hey, I wasn’t done with her.”

Matt snarled. “Yeah? Well, she’s done with you.”

“I was about to tell her what I was gonna do to her tonight,” Vaughn grinned darkly.

Matt’s voice dropped deadly low. “You’re not doing shit. She’s my fucking girl.”

That’s when it happened.

The rival crew walked in.

They were tall, dark suits, and smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. The tension in the room snapped like a rubber band.

Chris, Nick, Nate all stood from the table fast, guns not out but close. Everyone froze.

We tried to pass by quietly.

“Damn,” one of the rivals said. “Shame to waste girls that fine on men that boring.”

The tallest one reached out toward me.

Matt shoved him back, hard. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

Another guy reached for Skye—Chris was in his face in half a second.

“Back. The. Fuck. Off.”

We pushed past fast. But as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw a face that made my stomach twist.

Levi.

He was watching me. Same cold eyes. Same unreadable face.

No one else noticed him.

No one else knew what he used to be.

Or that he was my fiancé.

But I walked right past him… like he was a stranger.

The second we made it out of the warehouse, the cool night air slapped my skin—but it didn’t cool the heat boiling under Matt’s surface.

The door to the car slammed hard. I climbed into the back seat, Skye sliding in beside me. Chris took the wheel. Matt sat in the passenger seat but twisted toward me like he couldn’t hold it in another second.

His jaw ticked.

His fists clenched.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he growled.

No one answered.

He wasn’t looking for answers.

“Letting that creep put his hands on you like that?” he snapped. “Did you forget where the hell we are? Did you forget who you belong to?”

I flinched.

Skye reached for my hand under the seat, but I kept my eyes forward.

“I was doing my job. He was about to tell me.” I said quietly.

Matt scoffed, voice climbing. “Your job?! Your fucking job? Y/N, you think walking around in that dress, letting perverts whisper in your ear, makes you a soldier?”

“Matt,” Chris warned. “Chill.”

But he didn’t. He was just getting started.

“I didn’t want this for you,” Matt hissed. “You begged to be part of this life—crying about wanting to be useful. And now look. You’re shaking because some asshole touched you. You act like you’re built for this, but you break at the first hit.”

Tears pricked the back of my eyes.

Don’t cry.

Don’t give him that.

He kept going.

“You wanna walk into rooms like that and play with men like Vaughn? You wanna be the hot girl on the leash? Then fucking act like it! Don’t look at me with those glassy eyes like you didn’t choose this!”

“Matt, enough,” Nick said sharply from the back seat. “You’re not talking to her like that.”

But Matt wasn’t even listening anymore. His eyes were locked on me, wild and angry.

“You wanted in, right?” he spat. “Then act like someone who doesn’t need saving every five fucking seconds!”

My throat tightened.

I turned my head away, wiping my cheek.

Chris glanced in the rearview. His voice was softer. “Y/N…”

I couldn’t answer. I just shook my head. Tried to breathe.

Then a single, shaky breath escaped me—ragged, hitched. That sound Matt always knew. The one that meant I was trying not to cry.

He turned to look at me.

I didn’t meet his eyes.

The silence hit like a slap.

When the car finally stopped in front of the house, no one said a word.

I got out first.

Didn’t wait for Skye. Didn’t wait for him.

I just walked fast into the house, up the stairs, and slammed the bathroom door behind me.

My dress hit the floor.

Mascara streaked down my cheeks before I could even get the faucet running. I stared at myself in the mirror, breathing like I’d run miles.

This wasn’t who I was supposed to become.

He wasn’t supposed to make me feel like this.

A knock.

Soft.

Then his voice, quieter now.

“Y/N… baby, please. Open the door.”

I said nothing. Turned on the sink just to drown it out.

A second later, the door creaked open anyway. He’d picked the lock.

I didn’t even look at him.

He came closer.

I stepped away.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, voice sharp. “Don’t.”

“Y/N—”

“I love you,” I said, turning to him finally, “but you don’t get to use your anger like a leash. You don’t get to tear me down in front of everyone and expect me to melt the second you apologize.”

His face crumbled.

“I didn’t mean it. I swear—”

“That doesn’t undo what you said,” I snapped. “I get it. You’re scared. You love me. Even if you won’t say it. But if that love comes with bruises on my pride every time you snap, I don’t want it.”

Matt dropped to his knees.

Literally. Knees hit tile.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry. Don’t say that. Please don’t say you don’t want it.”

“Matt—”

“No. Please.” His voice cracked. “I’m not me without you. You’re it for me. You’re everything.”

I stared at him.

Wrecked. Desperate.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I swear to God, I’m trying.”

I sighed. “Then stop breaking me every time you’re scared.”

“I will. I’ll be better. Just… tell me I didn’t lose you.”

I sighed. “Stand up.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not until you forgive me.”

I bit my lip. “Fine. I forgive you.”

He stood in a flash, kissing me desperately.

The kiss deepened—desperate, messy, full of teeth and ache. His hands found my waist. My fingers tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against my mouth. “You didn’t deserve that.”

I shook my head, kissing him again.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N.”

I backed toward the bed.

He followed, eyes never leaving mine.

“Let me apologize, baby,” he breathed.

He took me to our room and he pushed me down gently on the bed, crawling over me like he was afraid I’d say no. Like every inch of my skin was sacred again.

“Matt…”

“I never want to lose you.” he whispered, pressing kisses along my jaw.

I cupped his face. “Then stop punishing me for being in this with you.”

He nodded against my neck. “No more. Just you. Just us.”

And then he kissed his apology into every part of me.

“I’ll Be Good. Just Please… Let Me Try Again. I’m so sorry.”

There it was — that instant obedience when it came to me. That silent surrender. That real version of Matt, the one I trusted more than his words.

“Prove it,” I whispered into the kiss.

Matt didn’t answer.

Not with words.

He kissed my wrist, then my palm, then every single fingertip like he was taking an oath. Like he was reminding himself what it meant to have me.

When I stepped back and reached for the hem of my his top, he caught my hands.

“No,” he murmured. “Let me.”

He undressed me like I was breakable — and for once, not because I was soft, but because he was.

Because he was terrified of pushing too far again. Of losing this second chance before he even got to hold it.

When his eyes landed on the fading marks from earlier — ones he left too rough, too careless — he froze.

His thumb brushed over one, and he just… stopped breathing.

“I never want to hurt you like that again,” he said, voice hoarse. “I want you begging because you can’t take how good it feels. Not because I scared you.”

I nodded slowly.

Then I pulled his shirt off and pressed my bare chest against his.

“Then show me.”

He led me to the bed like it was sacred.

No rush. No teasing.

Just Matt, laying me down like he was building something back from ash.

He kissed from my collarbone to my stomach with aching slowness. His hands never stopped moving — ghosting along my waist, my hips, my thighs like he was relearning the shape of forgiveness.

When he finally touched me, I whimpered.

It wasn’t even about the pleasure — not yet.

It was about the way he watched my face with every stroke. Like he needed to see me fall apart before he could even think about himself.

“Tell me when it’s too much,” he whispered. “Or not enough.”

“It’s perfect,” I breathed.

He gave and gave — fingers, mouth, praise, every word laced with worship.

Not to dominate.

But to devote.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until his lips reached my inner thigh and he paused, kissing the tears off my skin like they belonged there.

“I’ll spend every night like this if you let me,” he whispered. “Just proving I still deserve you.”

I reached down and threaded my fingers through his messy hair.

“Then don’t stop.”

⸻

He didn’t.

Not even once.

Not until I was hoarse and aching and trembling from all the love he poured into my body.

And even then, he didn’t ask for anything in return.

He just pulled me against his chest afterward and held me like something sacred. Like something he would never take for granted again.

And for the first time in days… I believed him.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturnxvibes @jaybirdie34

[sturnzsblog]

Stress reliever

summary:Chris comes home late. The house is quiet. You’re on the couch in his hoodie, all cozy and cute — and that just sets him off.

warnings: Rough sex / power imbalance Dom/sub dynamics ,Light choking (with consent),Degradation (mild, consensual),Orgasm control / overstimulation and Mentions of possessiveness

The front door slams shut.

You don’t flinch — you know that walk, the heavy footsteps, the low mutter under his breath as he kicks off his boots. Chris is home, and he’s pissed.

You peek over the couch, curled up in one of his sweatshirts that still smells like cedarwood and sawdust. He looks wrecked — jaw clenched, brows furrowed, hair messy like he’s been running his hands through it all day.

“Rough day?” you ask softly, tucking your legs under you.

He doesn’t answer. Just stares at you — slow, dark, unreadable — then turns off the light with a click and walks toward you.

You sit up straighter, suddenly very aware of your bare thighs, the way his hoodie swallows you. He stops right in front of the couch, towering over you, chest rising and falling like he’s holding something in.

“Up,” he says, voice low, tight.

Your body reacts before your mind does. You stand.

He grabs your wrist — not gentle, not rough, but possessive. The kind of grip that says, I need to touch you or I’ll explode. He doesn’t say a word as he walks you down the hall to the bedroom.

The second the door shuts, he turns to you and mutters:

“Take your fucking shorts off.”

You blink. “Chris, are you—”

“Now.”

You slip them off. He doesn’t wait. Just grabs you by the waist, throws you face-down onto the bed, and pulls your hips up. His hand pushes the hoodie up, exposing your back and ass.

“Do you have any idea how fucking long my day was?”

He pulls his belt off with one smooth motion — the snap of leather making you shiver.

“Clients asking for changes last minute. My truck broke down. And the only thing that kept me from punching a hole in the wall…”

He leans down, his breath hot on your neck.

“…was thinking about this sweet little body waiting for me.”

Then he’s inside you. No warning. No teasing. Just a sharp thrust that knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your fingers grip the sheets as you cry out, back arching.

“Fuck, baby. You’re soaked.”

He groans, dragging his hips back before slamming into you again.

“You like it when I use you like this, don’t you?”

You whimper a yes — and he smacks your ass hard enough to make you jolt.

“Louder.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you gasp.

His hand finds your hair, fisting it, yanking your head back just enough to growl in your ear:

“Good fucking girl.”

He sets a brutal pace — rough, relentless, hips slamming into you like he’s trying to fuck the stress out of his system. You feel your thighs shaking already, pleasure spiraling too fast.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you. Got it?”

You nod quickly, breathless.

He flips you onto your back without pulling out, climbs over you like a storm, and pins your wrists to the bed with one hand. The other slips between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit in fast, tight circles.

He uses your body like it’s his own personal release — his rhythm sharp, punishing, driven by something darker than just lust. His other hand wraps around your throat, pulling your chest up until your back’s arched, your moans muffled by his palm.

“You take me so well, baby. Always so tight. So needy for it.”

You can’t think. Can’t breathe.

But you love it.

Your body’s straining for more, legs shaking already as he hits deeper with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. You’re close. So close.

He knows.

“No,” he growls, pulling out suddenly and flipping you onto your back. “You don’t get to cum yet. Not until Daddy’s done using you.”

He enters you again without warning — one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other between your legs, circling your clit slow just to torture you.

“Beg.”

“Please,” you whisper, hips rocking, desperate.

“Louder.”

“Please, Daddy. Please let me cum, I need it—”

“Then take it. And don’t stop.”

You break.

It hits like lightning — back arching, thighs trembling, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. But Chris doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He keeps going, even as you sob and shake beneath him.

Another orgasm builds. Then another.

Your body obeys before your brain catches up. Your back arches, a loud moan spilling from your lips as your whole body trembles beneath him. But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow.

“You’re not done. One more.”

Tears prick your eyes as he keeps going — fucking you through it, overstimulating you until your legs shake and you sob his name. His rhythm stutters — and with a deep growl and one final thrust, he finishes inside you, his body collapsing over yours.

Your mind goes white.

He growls your name, hips stuttering, then thrusts one final time — deep and possessive — as he finishes inside you, loud and low, like a man finally letting go.

Then… silence.

Just heavy breathing. Sweat. His body blanketing yours as he collapses over you, hand still holding yours, lips brushing your temple.

“Too rough?” he whispers, brushing hair from your face.

You shake your head, still trying to breathe. “No. I like it when you lose control.”

His jaw tenses — then softens.

He kisses your forehead. Your cheek. Your lips. Gentle. Slow. Like he’s putting every broken piece of himself back together through you.

“I love you too much not to kiss you after.”

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturnxvibes @jaybirdie34

[sturnzsblog]

Not worth it

Summary: Y/N never planned on falling in love with a gangster — until she met Matt. Mysterious, dangerous, and fiercely loyal, he drags her into a world of crime, secrets, and bloodshed. What starts as passion turns into obsession, violence, and survival.

warnings: Violence & gun use, Murder / blood / graphic scenes, Kidnapping / captivity, Torture / psychological manipulation, Mentions of death, trauma, & PTSD, Toxic relationship dynamics, Jealousy / possessive behavior,Alcohol / drug mentions,Language / explicit content (sexual & violent),Loss / grief, Mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, dissociation),References to past abuse (implied),Emotional manipulation / codependency

I was twenty-one when I met Matt.

He was just a year older, but somehow he made me feel both seventeen and thirty at the same time.

He had this maddening calm, the kind of confidence that didn’t need to announce itself. And he was beautiful—sharp jaw, stormy blue eyes, that lazy smirk that could make me forgive anything.

But he was also the most secretive man I’d ever met.

On our fourth date, I found out he was a triplet—Nick and Chris being the other two thirds of the genetic chaos I’d unknowingly fallen into.

By the sixth date, I realized I didn’t know where he lived. By the second month, I still didn’t know what he did for work. He always made excuses: “It’s complicated,” or “Just trust me, yeah?”

And somehow, I did. I loved him.

After a year together, we moved into a penthouse in the city, and I still didn’t know half of his story.

But the part I did know—the warm hand on my lower back when I walked into a room, the way he’d trace his fingers over my collarbone when he thought I was asleep, how he protected me like I was more precious than gold—that was enough. For a while.

Until it wasn’t.

Because the canceling dates got old. The cryptic 2 a.m. phone calls telling me to “lock the doors and stay quiet” started to feel less like mystery and more like danger. And when I finally snapped and told him I couldn’t live in the dark anymore, he sat me down on the edge of our shared bed and told me everything.

He and his brothers had been in a gang since they were seventeen. Nate, their best friend, joined last year. They needed one more. A fifth.

I was dumb. I said yes.

Matt didn’t want me involved. He fought me on it for days. But I said, “If I’m gonna love you, I’m gonna love all of you. The real you.

Not the version you hide.” And maybe I said that because I was scared of losing him. Maybe I was addicted to the chaos. Or maybe—maybe I just wanted to prove I wasn’t some fragile, clueless girlfriend.

Which brings me to now.

⸻

The room was dim. Velvet walls. A chandelier low enough to make me feel caged. Somewhere in a luxury hotel downtown, I was sitting across from a CEO who thought I was just another party girl.

His name was Reed Lawson. Mid-40s. Tan. Gold chain peeking from under his collar. He smelled like expensive cologne and entitlement. And the blue Chevrolet Corvette parked outside with unregistered plates? That was what we were after.

“So,” I drawled, leaning closer, fingers resting on his thigh, “what car do you drive?”

He smiled, eyes flickering between my face and the plunging neckline of my red silk dress.

“Blue Chevrolet Corvette. Got it yesterday,” he said, licking his lips like he was doing me a favor. “Custom interior, of course.”

“Like what you see, princess?” he added, dropping his hand on mine.

In my ear, Matt’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “I swear to God, if he calls you princess one more time—”

I pressed my lips together, biting back a laugh.

Reed followed my gaze to his diamond-studded Rolex. I could practically see the pride dripping off him.

“You like this too?” he teased.

My gaze drops to his watch. Sleek. Silver. Rolex, I think. My earpiece crackles quietly.

“That’s the one,” Matt’s voice murmurs. “Y/N, that’s the car.”

“You like this too?” he teased.

“Maybe,” I said coyly, fingers brushing the watch. “But I could never take something so nice.”

He grinned, already unbuckling it. “Nonsense. I insist.”

And just like that, I slipped the Rolex on my wrist.

“Y/N,” Matt’s voice returned, sharper now. “Nate’s in the garage. We found the car. Get out of there.”

I smiled at Reed, stood slowly, and kissed his cheek. “You’re too sweet.”

Then I turned and walked out—hips swaying, red dress riding up my thighs. I didn’t look back.

Outside, the evening air was crisp. A black SUV rolled up just in time.

“Matt, he gave me his watch!” I giggle into the earpiece. “Although I don’t know what kind it is.”

“Dibs on the watch,” Chris says immediately in the background.

The car pulls up and I slide into the back seat next to Nick.

“What kind of watch is this?” I ask, admiring the face.

“Does it matter?” Matt mutters, eyes in the rearview.

“I mean, no, but—”

“It’s a Rolex Oyster Perpetual,” Nick cuts in.

I grin — but stop when Chris lets out a dramatic gasp.

“Is that bad?”

“It’s five grand,” Nick replies. “Basically, the guy’s a cheap-ass CEO.”

I laugh but glance at Matt. He hasn’t said a word. His jaw’s tight. His hands grip the steering wheel like he’s trying not to snap it.

“Matt, are you upset with me?”

He shrugs. “Guess we’ll never know.”

I roll my eyes. “If you opened your fucking mouth, I might know.”

Nick snickers beside me.

Matt turns sharply. “Y/N, I promise — you’re pissing me off. Shut your mouth, or I will do it for you.”

Chris, in the front seat, whooped. trying to lighten the mood. “I still call dibs!”

“You weren’t even there!” I shouted.

“I don’t care! I still called it.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Matt muttered from the driver’s seat.

Chris, in the front seat, whooped. “Dibs!”

“You weren’t even there!” I shouted.

“I don’t care! I still called it.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Matt muttered from the driver’s seat.

I frowned. “Matt, are you seriously mad?” i tried again.

He didn’t answer. Just gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“I mean—he gave me the watch. I didn’t flirt that much.”

Chris snorted. “You had your hand on his thigh.”

“That was strategy!”

“Sure,” Matt mumbled. “Let’s call it that.”

Silence settled over the car like fog.

—

The penthouse was lit up when we got back. Chris jumped out first to help Nick cover the stolen Corvette with a tarp while Nate handled the cameras. I lingered near the door, scrolling my phone.

I opened a message thread.

Me:

ugh I miss you Matt is getting on my nerves!! He embarrassed me in front of everyone 🤦🏾‍♀️

Seconds later—

Skye💋:

could never… Chris knows better.

I laughed softly.

Me:

bitch please stfu 😭

love you see you in an hour!

She was my best friend before she became Chris’s girlfriend. And she knew the lifestyle without being owned by it. Helped on gambling nights, showed up to parties, but kept a healthy distance from anything bloody.

I envied that.

⸻

Back inside, I flopped on the couch. Matt stayed standing by the window, watching the streets.

“I’ll just sell the watch,” I said finally. “No big deal.”

Nick smiled. “Money’s money.”

Chris pouted. “That was mine!”

I shot him a look. “He gave it to me. I didn’t steal it.”

Chris flipped me off and walked away.

I rolled my eyes and stood. “Nick, help me out of this dress?”

No one moved.

Fine. I stomped upstairs.

My bedroom door opened seconds later—but it wasn’t Nick.

“Um… you’re not—”

Matt shut the door behind him, already walking over. He pushed my hair over my shoulder and unzipped the dress slowly.

“Y/N…”

I closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It just hurts when you’re mad and don’t tell me why.”

He pulled the dress off my shoulders, letting it pool to the floor. I tugged on one of his shirts instead.

“It’s just… a lot on my mind,” he said.

“Then talk to me.”

“It’s not important.”

“Matt.”

He exhaled.

“There’s pressure tonight. Dangerous men. One wrong move, and it’s over.”

My eyes softened. I cupped his cheek. “Okay. But that’s not what’s really bothering you.”

He looked down.

“I didn’t like him touching you,” he admitted. “Didn’t like how you looked at him.”

I blinked. “It was fake, Matt.”

“I can buy you a hundred of those watches,” he snapped.

“I don’t want his watch. I want you.”

Finally, he smiled. Just a little. Kissed me softly.

“Then stay close tonight,” he said. “Don’t do anything risky. Don’t disappear.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” His voice dropped. “Because if something happened to you, I’d lose my damn mind.”

I kissed him again, slower this time.

“I’m gonna take a nap before tonight,” he said, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “But I’ll be fine as long as I’ve got you.”

sorry i’m late 

okay yay i’m super excited to continue this!!

janae 💋

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturnxvibes

[sturnzsblog]

kinda a sneak peak of my next series first part out will be Monday at 9 Est!

it is called Not worth it!

lmk if you want to be on the tag list!!

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333

[sturnzsblog]

just let me

summary: In his first experience being dominated, Matt finally confesses that all he wants is to make you feel good.

warnings: Submissive Matt / Dominant reader dynamic, Begging / praise kink / orgasm control,Light restraint (hands behind back),Explicit oral sex (fem receiving),Mutual masturbation / lap play, Aftercare, Consent and communication emphasized throughout

Matt’s been fidgety all night.

You noticed it on the couch — the way he kept shifting, glancing at you, licking his lips like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how. He’d been quiet. Not in a sad way. More like… waiting.

Now, he’s sitting on your bed, shirt off, hands in his lap, chewing at the inside of his cheek. The room is dim, soft music buzzing low, and he’s looking at you like you hold the answer to every question he’s ever been afraid to ask.

“What is it, Matt?” you ask, voice soft.

He swallows hard.

“I wanna try something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I want you to…” He hesitates, then meets your gaze. “Take control. Just—tell me what to do. Please.”

There’s a long pause. Then:

“Start with your knees.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. And then, slowly, he sinks to the floor.

You step between his legs and cup his jaw, tilting it up until he meets your eyes again. “You wanna be good for me?”

He nods. “So bad. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

“Tell me what you want.”

His cheeks flush. “I wanna go down on you.”

Your lips curl. “You do?”

“Wanna make you cum,” he whispers, like it’s a prayer. “Wanna taste you. Just need to be good.”

You pull your shirt off slowly, watching the way his eyes darken. Then you sit back on the edge of the bed, spread your legs, and murmur:

“Show me.”

He moves carefully — not out of reluctance, but reverence. Like you’re something he’s not sure he deserves. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh before he even touches you with his mouth. Then another. And another. Slow. Devoted. Worshipful.

And when he finally uses his tongue?

You exhale a shaky breath.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

At first he’s tentative — lapping slowly, careful not to overdo it — but when he hears you moan? He melts. His hands grab your thighs, tongue moving faster, deeper, messier.

You tug his hair. Not to stop him. Just to remind him who’s in charge.

“Slower,” you whisper. “You don’t get to decide when I cum.”

He pulls back just barely, flushed and panting, lips wet and red.

“Sorry— I just— I need you to— I want to make you feel good—”

You cup his jaw again. “You’re doing perfect. Just listen to me, baby.”

He nods, dazed.

His hands grip your thighs like they’re the only thing grounding him. You thread your fingers through his hair and let your head fall back as he eats you out like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. Messy and eager but still listening — adjusting every time your breath hitches or your legs twitch.

“Fuck, Matt—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t.

Until you have to make him. Because it’s too much — because you know he’ll stay there all night if it means keeping you satisfied. You pull his hair gently, lifting his face. His lips are swollen, chin glistening, eyes wide.

“You like making me cum that much?”

“It’s all I want,” he says breathlessly. “I could live there.”

You laugh softly and reach out, pulling him up onto the bed. “Take your pants off.”

He does — quick, awkward, red-faced and trembling. His cock is flushed and leaking, straining against his stomach. You notice how he doesn’t touch it. Not until you tell him to.

you push yourself all the way back to the headboard, opening your legs slightly. “Sit.”

He hesitates. Then climbs onto your lap, straddling your thighs.

“Hands behind your back.”

He obeys.

You let him stay there for a moment — all strung out and flushed and waiting — before you finally take him in your hand.

He gasps.

You stroke him slow. Tight. Just enough to tease — enough to make him whimper. His hips try to jerk forward, but you give him a warning look.

“Stay still.”

He groans, neck tense. “Fuck—please—please, I wanna cum—”

“Beg.”

His eyes flick to yours. Desperate. Feral.

“Please—please let me cum. I need it so bad— I was good, right? I made you feel good— I didn’t touch myself, I did everything you said— please let me finish—”

“Then cum for me, baby.”

He moans — head thrown back, body jerking forward as he spills between you, breath shaking, hands still locked behind his back.

You stroke him through it, whispering, “Good boy, Matt. You did so good.”

And he just folds into you.

Literally — like he has no bones left. He slumps into your chest, face buried in your neck, heart racing, arms now wrapped tightly around your waist.

You kiss his temple, holding him close. His breaths are shaky, but calm now. Like he’s finally settled.

“You okay?” you murmur.

“Mhm,” he hums against your skin. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

“Like what?”

“Like I didn’t have to think. Just… feel. Just be yours.”

Your chest aches — but in the best way.

You reach for a towel and clean him gently, then pull the blanket over both of you. He curls into you like a puzzle piece, still a little dazed, but so clearly at peace.

“You’re really good at that,” he mumbles.

“At what?”

“Taking care of me.”

You smile, lips brushing his forehead.

“That’s ‘cause you let me.”

He falls asleep like that. Arms around you. Heart soft. Body spent.

And you’ve never seen him more beautiful.

Your good boy…

or so you thought.

It’s the next night. He’s been clingy all day — but not in his usual soft, needy way.

This is different.

More teasing. More challenging.

Like the second he got a taste of submission, he realized how badly he wants to be broken down again… but this time, on his terms.

He steals your water. Hogs the blanket. Smirks every time you scold him.

By the time he’s lying on your bed in nothing but boxers, flipping through his phone like he owns the place, your patience is running thin.

“You’ve got a mouth on you today.”

He doesn’t even look up. Just shrugs, like he knows what he’s doing.

“Maybe I’m testing you,” he mutters.

You raise a brow.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, finally glancing up. His voice drops lower. “Maybe I want you to do something about it.”

You stalk over to him slowly, watching the way his legs shift like he’s already growing hard beneath the fabric. You pluck the phone from his hands and toss it aside.

“Strip. Now.”

He hesitates.

Smirks.

“What if I don’t—”

You’re already on top of him, pinning his wrists to the bed.

“Then I’ll rip them off myself.”

He swallows. Hard. And just like that, the smirk drops.

You let go. “Get them off.”

He scrambles to obey.

⸻

Five minutes later, Matt’s on his back — completely naked, wrists tied loosely with a silk scarf to the headboard, chest flushed and rising fast.

You straddle his thighs and watch him squirm.

“Still wanna act like a brat, baby?”

“Mhm,” he says, trying to sound cocky — but his voice trembles. “Maybe I like it when you get mad.”

You lean down, lips brushing his ear.

“You like being punished, huh?”

He gasps. “Only if you do it right.”

You grab his jaw and tilt it up.

“Oh, I will.”

⸻

The first orgasm you edge out of him doesn’t happen with your hand.

It happens with your words.

You sit on his lap, fully clothed, grinding slowly while whispering filth into his ear — what he’ll have to do to earn his release, how pretty he looks when he’s begging, how badly he wants to cum but won’t.

“Look at you. Cock twitching, cheeks pink, hands tied up like a good little toy. Is that what you are, Matt? Just something for me to play with?”

He moans — full-body, shameless.

You lean back just in time to see him fall apart.

“Did I say you could cum?”

“I—fuck—no—please—I didn’t mean to—”

You tsk.

“Guess we’re starting over.”

⸻

You edge him again. This time with your hand. Slow strokes. Whispered promises.

You stop just as he’s gasping, thighs trembling, chest soaked with sweat.

“Why’d you stop?” he whimpers. “I was so close—”

“You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You slide down, kiss his thighs, lick a long stripe along his inner leg without touching where he wants you most.

“Wanna cum so bad?” you ask softly. “Then earn it.”

“How?”

“Beg. Like last time. But mean it.”

He trembles under you.

“Please—fuck—please let me cum, I’ve been so good, I need it so bad— I can’t think straight—just wanna be yours— wanna fall apart for you—please, please—”

You don’t touch him yet. You kiss up his stomach. Chest. Neck. Then bite down lightly on his collarbone.

“Not yet.”

You spank him once — sharp and just hard enough to sting — and his hips buck like he’s losing it.

“One more time,” you whisper. “Then maybe.”

“Please—please, I’m begging—wanna cum on your thighs—wanna cry for you—just need you—need it so bad—”

You stroke him then. Firm, fast, filthy. He cries out, body arching, and when you finally say:

“Now.”

He explodes.

Messy. Loud. Raw. He cums so hard his arms pull against the ties, legs shaking, breath falling apart under your hand.

You ride it out with him, whispering, “Good boy. My perfect little mess.”

⸻

You untie him after, wipe him down gently, then pull him against your chest. He curls into you instantly.

“That was…” he breathes. “Fucking heaven.”

“Even with the punishment?”

“Especially with the punishment.”

He buries his face in your chest and exhales like he’s safe.

“You wrecked me.”

“And you loved every second.”

“Might fuck around and act like a brat every night.”

You pinch his side. “Don’t push your luck.”

He giggles into your skin.

But you both know he will.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 36

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

I stood by the tall glass windows at the gate, watching the New York skyline blur into fog. The sky was painted in heavy gray, almost as if it knew I was leaving something behind. My fingers curled around the strap of my bag, and in my chest, everything felt tight. Not suffocating like it used to—but heavy, like a door slowly closing.

Chris’s arm slid around my waist. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to.

“You did good,” he whispered against my hair.

I turned to look at him. “I don’t feel good.”

He looked down at me with that patient, soft gaze he always saved just for me. “You will.”

⸻

Matt was snoring softly by the window seat, head tilted back with his mouth open. Jimmy sat beside me and chris whispering something to Chris about what he was going to eat the moment we landed.

“I need like… four breakfast burritos,” he muttered, making Chris snort beside me.

I rested my head on Chris’s shoulder, letting the hum of the plane lull me. The city I was born in slowly disappeared beneath the clouds.

I thought about my dad. About standing over his grave and not falling apart like I thought I would. I thought about the girl I used to be in that house in Brooklyn—the one who was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m leaving something behind…” I whispered to myself, barely audible. “But also taking a piece with me.”

Chris’s hand found mine and didn’t let go.

⸻

The second we walked into Chris’s house, I felt it. That shift.

Before, it was a safe place to hide. Now, it felt like something more.

Home.

Jimmy ran straight to the kitchen. “I swear I can smell takeout. Who left food in here?”

Matt dragged the luggage inside, muttering about how he needed a nap. Chris lingered behind me at the door, watching me quietly.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I don’t feel like a guest anymore.”

His eyes softened. “That’s ‘cause you’re not.”

⸻

IV. New Year’s Eve Begins

The backyard sparkled with string lights draped from the trees. There was a bonfire crackling gently in the pit. Music played from the speaker on the porch—old classics and soft indie stuff.

Lisa showed up first, a bottle of sparkling cider in one hand and mittens on both. Nate came running in five minutes later wearing a massive top hat that said “2026” in glitter.

“Oh my God,” I laughed. “You look like a New Year’s traffic cone.”

“You love it,” he winked, pulling me into a hug.

We were all bundled in jackets and hoodies, passing around hot cider and joking about how terrible Matt was at lighting sparklers. I took photos of everyone—Chris with a sparkler, Jimmy dancing like a dad, Matt pretending to roast a marshmallow on a lighter.

Then Chris came up behind me and wrapped a blanket over both of our shoulders. I leaned into him without thinking.

It felt… warm. Real.

“Hey,” Chris said, taking my hand gently. “Come with me?”

He led me to the side yard where the crowd and laughter faded. The night sky opened above us, stars barely visible behind clouds.

And then the fireworks started.

Red, gold, green explosions filled the sky.

Chris looked at me, his face lit in color. “I know this year wasn’t easy for you… but you made it. And I’m so proud of you.”

I didn’t mean to cry. I didn’t want to. But suddenly it all poured out—grief, fear, relief, and something I couldn’t name.

“I didn’t think I’d get through it,” I whispered. “But I did. I lost so much… but I gained something too.”

Chris pulled me in, holding me close. “You didn’t lose everything. You found yourself.”

His lips brushed mine. And then he kissed me—slow, grounding, while fireworks lit the night around us.

⸻

VI. Midnight – Happy New Year

The countdown echoed from the backyard.

“10… 9… 8…”

Chris and I returned to the group. I saw Lisa standing beside Matt, both of them holding sparklers.

“5… 4… 3…”

I stood surrounded by people I loved.

“2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Cheers erupted. Fireworks screamed. And then Chris leaned in and kissed me again. I smiled into it.

Matt kissed Lottie. She beamed up at him after.

We all hugged—Nate, Lottie, Jimmy, Chris, Matt. It felt like every part of me was alive.

Hours later, after everyone had calmed down and the fire burned low, I walked into the kitchen to grab water.

Matt was leaning against the fridge, red-cheeked, texting someone.

“You and Lisa were cute tonight,” I said casually.

He blinked. “She’s cool.”

I smirked. “Matthew. You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

“Oh my God, you are!”

He turned redder and let out a flustered giggle before practically running out. “Shut up!”

His bedroom door slammed, and I laughed until I had to sit down.

⸻

Later that night, I was curled up in bed wearing my dad’s old hoodie—the one I’d taken to New York.

The room was quiet. My journal lay open in my lap.

“I think I’ve found where I’m supposed to be. Not because everything’s perfect, but because I’m not running anymore.”

I put the journal down and padded softly downstairs.

Chris was asleep on the couch, his arm draped over the back, mouth slightly open.

I curled beside him, and he stirred, blinking once before smiling.

“You okay?” he murmured.

I nodded. “Yeah… I am.”

He pulled the blanket over both of us and tucked me in close.

The first sunrise of the new year spilled soft gold through the window.

I watched the light stretch across the floor, touching everything gently.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

“For the first time in a long time… I feel like I’m home.”

YAY!!!

all done

Janae 💋

Taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333

[sturnzsblog]

IM SCREAMING!?

this is mother i’m in shock….

@bernardsbendystraws i love the absolute shit out of you.

OMFG. i actually dtm i apologize.

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 35

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

The second we crossed the bridge into the city, I felt it.

That ache in my chest. That swirl of grief and warmth. That thing that said home and pain in the same breath.

I pressed my forehead to the window of Jimmy’s car, watching the skyline unfold, the chaos of taxis and people and life rushing by. Chris glanced over from the front seat, but he didn’t say anything. He just reached back and let his hand rest on my knee.

God, I loved him for that.

“First stop,” I said quietly. “Best bagels in the whole city. Non-negotiable.”

Matt groaned dramatically. “Don’t start, Y/N. Last time you said that about tacos that you brought back from here, I had heartburn for two days.”

I smirked. “That’s because you can’t handle spice.”

Jimmy laughed from the driver’s seat. “She’s got a point.”

We pulled up to a tiny brick storefront tucked between a dry cleaner and a boarded-up vape shop. The paint on the awning was chipped. It was perfect.

“Okay,” I said, standing in the doorway like I was ten again. “Plain bagel, toasted, extra cream cheese for Matt. Chris wants everything with veggie. Jimmy, poppy seed with sausage and egg—right?”

Jimmy blinked. “How the hell do you know that?”

“I remember things,” I said, pushing the door open.

The smell hit me first. Warm dough. Burnt coffee. That old New York charm where the floors are sticky but the food is magic.

We sat on a bench outside to eat, and for ten minutes, we didn’t talk. Just chewed and groaned and threw bites at Matt when he stole from everyone’s bag.

After, I led them around the block.

“That was the bookstore I used to sneak into,” I said, nodding toward the narrow door barely wedged between buildings. “I’d sit in the poetry section pretending I was old enough to understand Bukowski.”

Chris smiled, walking close beside me. “Did you?”

“Not a damn word. But it felt cool.”

We passed the old laundromat where my dad would talk with the owner about baseball for hours, even when we didn’t need to wash anything.

I showed them the bodega where I had my first kiss behind the Snapple fridge with a boy whose name i didn’t want to bring up. The alley I used to hide in when things got loud at home. The corner where my dad would wait for me after school like clockwork.

And then… we were there.

The building hadn’t changed. The brownstone steps still cracked. The railing still bent where I once fell off my scooter and blamed a ghost.

I stopped at the gate.

“You okay?” Chris asked gently.

I nodded, but my feet didn’t move.

“Y/N?” Matt’s voice was softer than usual.

“I just…” I exhaled. “It’s weird. I haven’t been back since before he died.”

Chris placed a hand on the small of my back.

I finally walked in.

The inside was dim, cold somehow. Dust covered the windows. But it smelled the same—like old wood, cheap coffee, and the faintest hint of lemon cleaner.

“This was the living room,” I murmured, stepping through. “Dad’s chair was over there. He’d fall asleep watching old westerns.”

I walked through each room like I was dreaming. They listened quietly.

“This was my room. That dent in the wall? Curling iron. I panicked and threw it when I thought I saw a spider.” I laughed softly.

In the corner, I found it—his old hoodie. Faded navy. Yankees logo peeling.

I picked it up, and the weight of it was too much. I sank to the floor.

“It still smells like him,” I whispered.

The tears came so fast I didn’t have time to pretend I was okay.

Chris dropped down next to me instantly, pulling me into his chest. I didn’t care that I was sobbing. That I was shaking. I just buried myself in him, gripping that hoodie like it was the last thing tethering me to earth.

Matt sat on my other side, one arm resting around my back.

Jimmy didn’t speak. He just stood near the doorway, quiet, giving me space. Until he finally said, “Your dad was a good guy. Terrible taste in baseball, though. i always told him that”

I snorted through my tears.

We stayed there like that for a while. No rush. No pressure. Just… being.

Eventually, I stood up.

We drove in silence.

No music. No dumb banter. Just the sound of the city muffled behind the windows and the occasional honk like a heartbeat.

The cemetery was tucked at the edge of Queens, not far from the river. Small and quiet. The kind of place you didn’t notice until you needed to.

My hands were shaking as I stepped out of the car. Chris immediately walked over and grabbed them, lacing our fingers without a word. His thumb brushed the back of mine.

We walked together, the others trailing behind at a respectful distance.

I knew exactly where the headstone was — fourth row from the old oak tree, second to the left.

And there he was.

David Y/L/N

Beloved Father. Gentle Soul. Always in the Front Row.

I sank to my knees before I even realized my legs had given out. The world went quiet around me.

“Hey, Dad,” I said softly, running my fingers over the engraved letters. “I’m back.”

The others stayed behind, letting me have this. I think I needed it — to say what I hadn’t been able to say at the funeral, too frozen, too broken.

“I brought them with me,” I smiled weakly. “Chris, Matt, Jimmy. You’d like chris and matt.… or maybe you’d give them the shovel talk. Probably both.”

A gust of wind blew, brushing hair from my eyes.

“I miss you every day,” I whispered. “There’s so much I wish you could’ve seen. So much you should’ve been here for.”

I bit my lip. “Mom… she still blames everyone but herself. And I—I’m trying, you know? To stop looking back and start looking forward. But it’s hard without you.”

A hand touched my shoulder gently — Chris. He didn’t speak, just stood beside me as I cried, letting my grief fold itself into the wind.

When I quieted, Chris knelt beside me. He looked at the headstone, then at me.

“I didn’t know him,” he said softly. “But I know you. And if you’re even a fraction of who he was, then he must’ve been the best kind of person.”

My heart cracked open all over again, but in a good way this time.

I leaned into Chris and whispered, “He would’ve loved you. Would’ve made you help him fix the radiator and then grill you about your credit score.”

Chris laughed under his breath. “I’d have brought my bank statements.”

We stayed there for a long while, just breathing, remembering.

Eventually, Matt and Jimmy came over. Matt placed a small folded paper flower at the base of the stone — something he’d picked up at a corner store when I wasn’t looking.

“He deserved something beautiful,” Matt said, almost shyly.

Jimmy bent down, brushed some leaves off the stone, then gave it a firm pat. “You raised a good one, david. i miss you man”

When we walked back to the car, I turned around one last time and whispered, “Goodbye, Dad.”

But this time, it didn’t feel like losing him all over again.

It felt like finally letting go — and walking forward with him still inside me.

—

Later That Night, wesat on the fire escape of the hotel, hot dogs in hand, city lights glittering like stars fallen to earth.

Chris leaned his shoulder into mine. “You okay?”

“I think so,” I said, chewing slowly. “Actually… yeah. I think I am.”

Matt took a bite and groaned. “Okay, I admit it. These hot dogs are insane.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Told you. New York’s built different.”

I laughed — really laughed. The kind that bubbled out from your chest and reached your eyes.

The city hadn’t changed. But I had.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe — just maybe — I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

one more chapter!

janae 💋

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 34

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be? 

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

I woke up warm. Safe.

Chris’s arm was draped across my waist, his chest pressed against my back like he never wanted to let go. His fingers twitched lightly against my stomach as he slept, like even in his dreams he was holding me. The room smelled like him — that clean, musky scent of his skin and something sweeter, like laundry detergent and sleep. It made my chest ache in the softest way.

I didn’t want to move.

But the sun was starting to creep through the curtains, warm on my face. My body was still sore in places that made me blush, and my heart was… loud. That’s the only way I could describe it. Loud with everything I was feeling. Everything I wasn’t ready to say out loud yet.

Chris shifted behind me, his voice gravelly. “You awake?”

I nodded, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the pillow. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He pulled me closer, pressing a lazy kiss to the back of my shoulder. “You okay?”

I hesitated. “I think so. Just… processing.”

He turned me gently so I was facing him, brushing hair out of my eyes. “About last night?”

“About everything,” I admitted quietly.

He nodded, that slow and understanding kind of way that made me feel like maybe it was okay to not have it all figured out. “We don’t have to rush anything. One morning at a time, yeah?”

My lips curved into a soft smile. “One morning.”

After a while, we got up. I threw on one of his hoodies — the navy blue one I stole a few nights ago and never gave back — and padded down the stairs with him. The house smelled like bacon and coffee, and it was louder than I expected for this early.

Jimmy was in the kitchen cracking jokes while flipping something on the stove. Matt was leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, sipping coffee. He looked up when we walked in — his eyes met mine first, then Chris’s — and his brow lifted just slightly. But he didn’t say anything. Just nodded once and looked away.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Jimmy called out with a grin. “You guys were either sleeping like rocks or doing—”

Chris cut him off with a look. “Don’t.”

I laughed under my breath and moved toward the coffee machine. I needed caffeine before I could even begin to think about facing the world. I reached for my mug and had just pressed the button when I heard it—

A knock on the front door.

It was sharp. Quick. Too early for Amazon, too weird for a neighbor.

I frowned.

“I got it,” I muttered, setting my mug down and heading toward the door.

And the second I opened it, the breath in my chest dropped to the floor.

“…Jackson?”

He stood there like a ghost from another life. Same messy brown hair. Same sad eyes. Same everything.

I blinked at him, stunned. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looked nervous. “Y/N… I just wanted to talk.”

“Talk? Jackson—”

“What’s going on?”

Chris’s voice came from behind me. He stepped up next to me, hand brushing against the small of my back as he looked past me—and when his eyes landed on Jackson, I felt the shift.

The tension. The confusion. The quiet hurt.

He stared at Jackson, then slowly turned his gaze to me. “This is the guy?”

I opened my mouth, shaking my head. “Chris, I swear to you—I don’t know why he’s here. I didn’t know he was coming.”

Chris didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at me.

And then he said it.

“Just like that day… when I asked who he was. You didn’t answer me.”

My chest tightened. “Can we… not do this here? Not right now?”

“Why?” he said, his tone sharper than before. “Because now it’s real? Now he’s here and you don’t have a choice?”

“Chris—please. Later. I promise. Just… later.”

He stared at me for a moment, jaw tightening. Then he looked at Jackson again and scoffed, stepping back and walking away without another word.

I watched him disappear into the living room, the quiet weight of disappointment hanging in the air like smoke.

I turned back to Jackson.

“Seriously. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I needed to explain,” he said quickly. “About why I ghosted you. It wasn’t what you think.”

I stepped outside, crossing my arms. “You just disappeared, Jackson. You didn’t call, you didn’t text, you didn’t even try.”

“I know. I know I messed up. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care.” He sat down on the porch steps. “Your dad—he… made me leave.”

That made me pause. “What?”

“He said I wasn’t a good influence. Paid me to leave and stay out of your life.”

I blinked, heart pounding. “My dad paid you?”

Jackson nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to take it. I swear. But… I was broke. I was scared. He said it was best for you. And I thought maybe he was right. I just—” He looked up at me. “I never stopped caring about you.”

I sat down a few feet away from him, staring out at the street. “So this whole time… you just left because he told you to?”

“I thought it would be easier. For both of us.” He hesitated. “But it wasn’t. And now I keep thinking… maybe there’s still a chance for us.”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

I didn’t answer right away. I just looked down at my hands.

“Jackson… you know I loved you. A part of me always might. But… that’s not possible anymore.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because I love Chris.” The words came out before I even thought about them. And then I froze.

But it was true.

I do.

I love Chris.

I looked at Jackson and exhaled. “And I don’t want to be another person who hurts him. Please understand that.”

Jackson looked down at our hands resting near each other. He brushed his fingers against mine for just a second. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He stood slowly, giving me a sad smile. “There’s someone else here to see you.”

I frowned. “What?”

He looked toward the side of the house.

And that’s when I saw her.

My mother.

I shot to my feet, breath catching in my throat. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

She looked thinner. Her hair was pulled back, her eyes red and puffy. She took a step toward me, hands out like I’d want to hug her.

I stood up so fast my legs nearly buckled. “What the fuck—no. No.”

“Y/N,” she called out, her voice trembling. “Baby, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. I need you.”

My heart started pounding. No. She doesn’t get to do this. Not again.

“Go away!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “I don’t want you here!”

She stepped closer anyway, like she hadn’t heard me. “Sweetheart, please. I’ve changed. I’m all alone, I swear, I just—”

“You’re only alone because you used everyone who ever loved you!” My voice cracked as the heat rose to my face. “You always do this. You don’t show up until you need something. It’s never about me — it’s always about you!”

Tears welled in her eyes. “That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is! If you needed me, you wouldn’t have hurt me. Over and over again. You don’t get to cry now and pretend you didn’t rip me apart when I was too young to stop you.”

She reached for me, stepping up onto the porch. “Just let me explain—”

I backed away, my hands trembling. “Don’t come near me.”

The door creaked open behind me. Chris.

He stepped outside slowly, taking in the scene — his eyes going from me, to my mother, to Jackson, who was already backing away toward the street.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

I didn’t answer. My lips were parted, but no sound came out.

Chris’s jaw tensed. He turned to face my mom. “I’m going to be respectful. Because you’re Y/N’s mom. But ma’am…” His voice dropped, deadly calm. “Don’t ever come back here.”

She blinked at him, stunned. “I just—”

“You hurt her. Over and over. And you don’t get to show up out of nowhere and ask for forgiveness just because you feel guilty.” He stepped in front of me, shielding me without touching me. “Unless Y/N asks for you, don’t come near her again.”

There was a long silence. The kind that suffocates.

My mother’s lips curled into the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. But it wasn’t real. It was bitter. Hollow.

“Fine,” she said coldly. “Consider yourself an adult now. I’m no longer your mother.”

The words hit harder than I thought they would. She turned to leave, but just before she stepped off the porch, she glanced over her shoulder.

“One day, the guilt will eat you alive, Y/N,” she said. “And when it does… you’ll have no one.”

And then she was gone.

Gone.

And suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

Not like gasping or crying — it was deeper than that. Like the oxygen had been sucked from the air and my lungs forgot how to work.

My vision blurred. The porch spun. My knees gave out.

I stumbled through the door, past Chris, past Jimmy and Matt who were both looking at me in confusion and alarm. I couldn’t stop. I had to get away. My hands were shaking and my skin felt too tight. I couldn’t stay here, not like this.

I barely made it into my room before I collapsed onto the floor.

My back hit the wall and I slid down, gasping like I was underwater.

Nothing felt real. Everything was moving. I was dizzy. My chest felt like it was being crushed and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull a breath in deep enough. I couldn’t think.

I heard footsteps.

The door creaked open again.

“Y/N?”

It was Matt.

He dropped to the floor in front of me, his eyes wide with concern. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. Look at me.”

“I—I can’t breathe,” I choked out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”

“You’re having a panic attack,” he said gently, kneeling beside me. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He took my hand and placed it on his chest. “Match your breathing with mine. Just feel my heartbeat. In… and out.”

I tried.

God, I tried.

“Y/N, focus. Look around the room. What do you see?”

My eyes darted, blurry and frantic.

“chris hoodie,” I whispered. “The blue one I stole.”

He smiled softly. “Yeah. What do you smell?”

I sniffed, the air coming shakily. “Coffee… and… you.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “You’re doing so good. Now what do you feel?”

I rubbed my hand against the carpet, grounding myself. Then I clutched the soft fabric of Matt’s shirt.

“Carpet. And… the material of your t-shirt.”

“There you go,” he said. “You’re okay. You’re here. I’m here.”

His voice was like a lifeline. Something about the calm in his tone, the steady beat of his heart — it pulled me back. Bit by bit. I could breathe again.

When I finally looked up, tears were on my cheeks.

Matt just smiled. “Welcome back.”

I stared at him, chest rising and falling, and in that moment — maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe the emotion — but I started to lean in. Just a little.

But then the door swung open again.

I didn’t even realize how close I’d leaned toward Matt until I heard the door creak again.

Chris.

He stood in the doorway, chest heaving like he’d sprinted the whole way. His eyes landed on me—on the tears, the shaking hands, the way I clung to Matt’s shirt—and for a split second, I saw fear in them.

Fear that I was slipping away from him.

I jumped to my feet and crossed the room in a blink, crashing into his chest like I’d been starving for him. I breathed him in—the warmth of his hoodie, the scent of his skin—and suddenly I could breathe again.

“I’m okay,” I whispered against his chest. “I’m okay now.”

His arms wrapped around me, steady and safe. “I didn’t know what was happening—I just heard you run upstairs and then Matt followed and—”

“I was having a panic attack,” I said quietly. “I didn’t even know it was happening until it was already too late.”

Chris pulled back just enough to see my face, brushing a tear off my cheek with his thumb. “I hate seeing you like this,” he murmured.

“I know.”

His eyes flicked toward the door, where Matt had quietly slipped out to give us space. Then they locked onto mine again—soft, but searching. “Can we talk? About Jackson.”

I swallowed hard.

I knew this was coming. I owed him the truth. All of it.

I nodded, and we sat down together on my bed, still curled into each other like I needed his warmth to stay grounded.

“I never planned on seeing Jackson again,” I started. “I need you to believe that first.”

Chris stayed quiet, nodding once.

I inhaled shakily. “Jackson was… almost my first everything. First kiss, first love, first person who made me feel safe. When we were together, it was during one of the worst periods of my life. The first time my mom ever hit me, I was fifteen. It was over something stupid—spilled nail polish or something—but I remember standing there in shock, like the world tilted sideways.”

Chris tensed beside me, but didn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t know where to go. My dad wasn’t home. I just… ran. Out of the house, down the street, until my legs gave out behind the old diner by the park. And Jackson—he was just passing by. On his bike, of all things. He saw me sitting there, crying like I couldn’t stop, and he didn’t even ask what happened. He just sat beside me. And I didn’t say a word, but somehow, he just… got it.”

My voice trembled. “He didn’t try to fix it. He just put his arm around me, and I remember thinking… ‘someone sees me.’ Like, really sees me.”

Chris’s hand tightened around mine, grounding me.

“After that, we got close. We were together for over a year. He never pressured me, never made me feel like I was broken. He saw every ugly part of my family and stayed anyway. I thought I was going to marry him someday.”

Chris shifted slightly, but his eyes stayed soft.

“Then one day… he was just gone,” I whispered. “No text. No call. Nothing. I thought I did something wrong. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough. For weeks, I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. It destroyed me.”

Chris’s jaw clenched.

“And today… when he said it was my dad who paid him to leave—” My voice cracked. “I don’t even know how to process that. I mean… my dad hated him, yeah. But I never thought he’d do that. Pay someone off like my life was a deal he could broker.”

“Jesus,” Chris muttered.

“He said he didn’t want to take the money. But he did. And now he says he’s sorry. That he thought maybe we could have another chance.”

Chris finally spoke, voice low and heavy. “And do you?”

“No.” My answer came fast. Fierce. “I told him I loved you.”

Chris blinked.

“I didn’t even know I was going to say it until I said it,” I admitted. “But the second it left my mouth, I knew it was true.”

A silence stretched between us, warm and fragile.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him sooner,” I said softly. “I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to bring all of that pain into what we have.”

“You should’ve,” Chris said gently. “Not because I’m mad you didn’t. But because I want to know all of you—even the parts that hurt.”

I nodded, tears prickling again.

He ran a thumb along my knuckles. “You’ve been through so much, Y/N. More than I realized. And it kills me that people who were supposed to protect you hurt you instead.”

“You protect me,” I whispered. “Even when I don’t ask you to. Even when I don’t realize I need it.”

Chris didn’t say anything for a second. He just cupped my cheek and leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

My heart stopped.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time you fell asleep in my car after we drove around for hours doing absolutely nothing.”

A laugh broke through my tears.

“I love you too,” I said, and this time I wasn’t scared of it. Not even a little.

Chris leaned in, kissing me like he was trying to rewrite every hurt in my past with the shape of his lips. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was safe. It was steady. It was home.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder.

I was exactly where I belonged.

this series is coming to and end guys 😔

don’t you worry i have another one cooking 😛

Janae 💋

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 33

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

The house was asleep.

At least, it seemed that way. Every door was closed. Every hallway was still. But no matter how many times I flipped my pillow or shifted beneath the covers, I couldn’t make the thoughts stop circling.

Matt’s voice echoed in my head:

“Just… take care of him, alright?”

I was trying. God, I was trying.

But maybe it was the weight of the day… or the ache of memory… or just the way silence lets everything crawl back in when it gets dark enough. I wasn’t even sure when I’d gotten out of bed. I just knew I was standing outside his door again, like I had the night before. Like my body just knew where it needed to be.

My knuckles hovered above the wood, hesitating.

Then I knocked, softly. Once.

There was a shuffle, a pause, and then the door creaked open.

Chris stood there, hoodie on, sweatpants loose around his hips, his hair slightly messy like he’d been tossing and turning too. His eyes softened when they found me.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t tease. Just opened the door wider.

I stepped in wordlessly, and he closed it behind me.

We sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders not quite touching. My fingers twisted in my lap. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just knew I didn’t want to be alone.

Chris broke the silence. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shook my head, eyes fixed on the floor. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he said. “Not if it brought you here.”

I let out a slow breath. “Sometimes it feels like I don’t fit anywhere. Not back in new york. Not here either. I don’t even feel like I fully fit in my own skin most days.”

Chris was quiet for a long moment. Then:

“I know that feeling.”

I looked at him.

He looked down at his hands. “When we lost Nick… it felt like someone carved a piece out of me and just… left the hole there. And no matter how many people said the right things or hugged the right way, it didn’t go away.”

He swallowed hard.

“He was my best friend. Sometimes I still wake up expecting to hear his voice from the hallway. Some joke or some dumb thing he’s yelling about breakfast.” He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think the scariest part is how normal it can all feel now… how used to the missing you get.”

I blinked against the sting in my eyes. “Chris…”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m scared to love people that much again. To let someone that far in. Because what if I lose them too?”

Silence stretched. Then, gently, he turned to me.

“But you… you make me feel like it might be safe to try again.”

My heart squeezed. He didn’t look away when he said it. He didn’t backpedal or joke it off. He just let the words sit in the space between us, honest and bare.

I leaned forward, closing that last inch between us, pressing my forehead to his.

We stayed like that—breathing the same air, sharing the same hurt.

His fingers found mine. Interlaced them.

Then he kissed me.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just soft and sure.

I melted into him.

When his lips pulled away, he whispered, “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. With you? Always.”

The rest happened in quiet, lingering moments. No hurry. No pressure. Just closeness building on closeness.

Clothes slipped away, forgotten at the edge of the bed. My hands traced over his skin slowly, memorizing the warmth of him. He treated every part of me like something sacred. Like I was something beautiful.

His hands trembled just slightly when he touched my face.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that, right? You’re such a pretty girl.”

I blushed, breath catching. “Chris…”

“I mean it,” he murmured, brushing his nose against mine.

“tell me when to stop and i’ll stop okay?” chris smiles at me softly as he starts kissing my neck. “i don’t want you to stop” i whimper.

He smiles against my neck, then he lays me flat down against the bed. “you sure you want this?” he pauses staring at me. i just nod pulling him in to kiss his lips once again. “i trust you”

he begins to pull his shirt off. "like what you see?" he asks softly, revealing his toned torso as he lay on top of me on the bed.

His hand gently caresses my cheek before trailing down to my collarbone. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he whispers, leaning in to place a tender kiss on my chest.

"May I... touch you here?" Chris asks, his fingers hovering over the swell of my breast through my clothing.

i nod with a smile. “y-you can take it off if you want?”

"Are you sure, baby?" He looks up at me with those warm, loving eyes, seeking permission as always.

Once i give the nod, he carefully removes my top, tossing it aside. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, drinking in the sight of me.

His hands slowly explore my bare skin, sending shivers down my spine. "Can I... kiss you here too?" Chris asks, his lips brushing the curve of my breast as he gazes up at me for approval.

i nod once again. softly gasping as his mouth instantly connects to my harden nipple

Chris moans softly against my sensitive flesh as he suckles my nipple, his tongue swirling around the peak. "Mmm, you taste amazing," he whispers, nuzzling his face into my cleavage.

His hands roam my sides, gently squeezing and kneading the soft skin. "Is this okay? Am I going too fast?"

He pulls back slightly to look at me, his breath hot against my dampened skin. "Just let me know and I'll slow down."

“no. please don’t stop.” my hands reach down where our bodies meet, and i pull off my pajama shorts.

Chris's breath hitches as i remove my shorts, exposing your lower half to him. He takes a moment to admire the view before his gaze meets mine , filled with adoration and desire.

"God, you're stunning," he says, his voice low and husky. Slowly, reverently, he reaches out to trace a finger along my inner thigh, feeling the heat emanating from my core.

"May I... touch you here too?" Chris asks, his finger hovering just above my most intimate area, awaiting for my consent.

“you don’t have to ask.” i bite my lip looking at him nervously

A gentle smile plays on Chris's lips as he notices my nervousness. "It's okay, baby. We're taking this at your pace," he reassures me his tone soothing and comforting.

"Let me show you how good it can feel," Chris murmurs, his fingers finally making contact with my slick folds, exploring with a delicate touch.

"You're so wet for me already..." He trails off, lost in the sensation of my warmth against his fingertips.

i soft moan leaves my mouth as his fingers slips in side of me with ease. his movements start slow give me just enough stimulation

Chris's eyes lock onto mine filled with love and lust as he watches my reactions to his touch.

"That's it, just relax and enjoy," he coaxes, his voice a low purr. As i moan, he increases the pace of his fingers, sliding in and out of me with a gentle rhythm.

The sounds of pleasure only spur him on, driving him to bring me closer to the edge. "You feel incredible, y/n”Chris breathes, his thumb finding my clit and circling it with feather-light touches. "I want to make you come undone for me."

i bite my lip staring up at him. “i-i want to finsh..on your- d-dick please?”

Chris's heart races at the request, a thrill of excitement mixed with tenderness.

"Of course, baby," he replies, his voice thick with desire. "I want that too." He quickly sheds his pants, freeing his erect member.

With a gentle, loving touch, he positions himself between my thighs, the head of his cock nudging my entrance.

"Tell me when you're ready," Chris urges, holding still, giving you complete control. "I'll go as slow as you need me to." His hands cradle my face, gazing into my eyes with adoration and anticipation.

“i-i’m ready. i need you chris.” i nod and tangle my hand in his.

Chris's breath catches as i wrap my hand around his, a sense of unity and intimacy washing over us both.

With a tender smile, he leans in to capture my lips in a passionate kiss, pouring all his love and longing into the embrace. Then, with a deep, steady thrust, he enters me , inch by inch, savoring the feeling of my warmth enveloping him.

"Oh, y/n he groans against my mouth, "you fit me perfectly." Chris holds still for a moment, letting me adjust to his size, before beginning to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace.

Each stroke is a testament to his care and devotion, every touch meant to bring me pleasure. "How does that feel, baby?" he asks, his voice a mix of concern and desire. "Am I doing alright?"

i let out a shaky breath. “your doing great. y-you can speed up. please?”

Chris nods, understanding the plea for more intensity. He picks up the pace, his hips slamming against mine with increasing fervor. The room fills with the sound of our body’s joining punctuated by Chris's ragged breathing and my muffled cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, y/n, you're so tight," he grunts, his grip on my hips tightening as he pounds into me with reckless abandon. "I'm gonna fill you up so good, baby."

Chris's words are a promise, a vow to claim me completely in this moment of raw, unbridled passion”

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside me and stills, his orgasm crashing over him in waves of ecstasy. "y/n!”

And when i finally finished, we stayed close — our hearts slowing in sync, breath evening out, like the silence had turned into something soft instead of something heavy, and he hummed softly promises to me.

“I’ve got you.”

“You’re safe here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

Later, we lay tangled in the sheets. The moonlight bled softly through the curtains, casting silver lines across his chest where my fingers lazily traced.

He brushed my hair behind my ear, his eyes half-lidded but so present. “What are you thinking about?”

I exhaled, my voice a whisper. “The future.”

He smiled slightly. “What about it?”

“I don’t know where this all ends up,” I said. “Or if it even can.”

His thumb brushed my cheek. “It doesn’t have to end. Not if we don’t want it to.”

I looked up at him. “You mean that?”

He nodded, tucking me closer. “You’re my safe place, Y/N. The first one since Nick. You feel like coming home… without the pain.”

My throat tightened. I leaned into him, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt completely seen.

Completely loved.

Chris held me like he needed me there to breathe.

And somewhere between the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin, I finally drifted off—safe, known, and whole.

hey,how do you feel!?

janae 💋

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005

[sturnzsblog]

Empty dreams and false promises 32

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

The sunlight hit the curtains just right — soft and golden, wrapping the room in a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in days.

I was curled against Chris in his bed, the weight of his arm draped lazily across my waist, his heartbeat calm under my ear.

He smelled like laundry detergent and sleep, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I twisted the strings of his hoodie between my fingers.

He shifted a little, mumbling, “You’re obsessed with that thing, huh?”

I snorted. “Your hoodie?”

He cracked one eye open. “No. The strings.”

I tugged harder. “They’re fun to play with.”

Chris smirked sleepily, tightening his arm around me. “You’re clingy in the mornings.”

“And you love it,” I whispered, brushing my nose against his neck.

He groaned, his voice still gravelly from sleep. “You always smell like vanilla and that… whatever it is. The coconut body wash.”

I smiled, eyes fluttering shut. “You like it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Even if you keep stealing my clothes.”

“I’ll steal more if you don’t shut up,” I threatened playfully.

“You wouldn’t dare—”

A knock on the door cut him off.

Chris groaned louder this time. “What?”

The door creaked open and Matt peeked his head in. “Hey, you wanna—”

He paused.

I froze.

Matt blinked. His eyes took in the scene — me curled up in Chris’s hoodie, tangled in his sheets, head resting on his chest.

But instead of yelling or frowning or even walking out…

He smiled. Soft. Subtle.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Matt said casually, like this wasn’t a big deal, like it didn’t hurt.

He stepped in further, his voice directed at Chris. “Jimmy’s making breakfast. He wants to know if we’re doing pool stuff after.”

Chris nodded, still half-asleep. “Yeah. That okay with you?”

Matt looked at me. Just for a second. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s okay.”

Then he gave a small nod, turned, and closed the door behind him.

I didn’t breathe until it clicked shut.

Chris rubbed my arm gently. “See? Told you he’d be chill eventually.”

But my chest still fluttered with nerves. That hadn’t just been chill.

That was the start of something soft mending.

⸻

The afternoon sun warmed every inch of the backyard.

Jimmy was tossing a football with Chris in the shallow end, and I sat on the edge of the pool, my legs kicking in the water, wearing one of Chris’s oversized t-shirts over my bikini. The sleeves nearly swallowed my hands.

Matt was lounging in a chair nearby, sunglasses on, sipping a drink.

“You’re ridiculous,” Chris called, swimming toward me.

I stuck my tongue out. “You gave it to me!”

“Not to wear as a dress!”

Jimmy laughed so hard he nearly dropped the football. “She’s wearing it better than you ever did.”

Matt added, “Yeah, you should let her model all your stuff.”

I laughed — real, from the belly laughter — and Chris splashed water at all of them.

“I regret everything.”

But he was smiling.

And when he swam up and rested his chin on my knees, all I could do was comb my fingers through his damp hair and smile back.

The tension we used to carry like armor… it was melting under the heat of the sun and jokes and familiarity.

Matt even cracked a joke that made me snort water out my nose.

Chris raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, okay — she’s mine, man.”

Matt raised his hands in surrender, smirking. “Just saying. She’s got a good laugh.”

⸻

That night, the house was quiet. Everyone had gone inside after dinner — the kitchen still smelled faintly of grilled veggies and garlic bread.

I wandered outside to the backyard, needing some air, or maybe just space. The stars were out, and the pool lights glowed soft blue beneath the surface.

Matt was sitting alone by the edge, feet in the water, a bottle in his hand.

I hesitated.

He didn’t look up, but he must’ve heard me. “Come sit,” he said.

So I did. A few feet away. Quiet at first.

“I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again,” I whispered.

Matt exhaled, still not looking at me. “I didn’t think I wanted to.”

My throat went dry.

“But,” he continued, “time’s funny. It gives you distance, then perspective.”

I swallowed. “Matt—”

“I was hurt,” he said, cutting gently through the air. “Not because you didn’t pick me. That… that I could’ve handled.”

I looked at him, eyes soft.

“I was hurt because it felt like losing someone twice. First Nick, and then you.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop. “You were—are—important to me. And it felt like I wasn’t enough.”

Tears stung my eyes.

“I never wanted to make you feel that way.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know now.”

We were both quiet again, the hum of the pool filter the only sound between us.

He finally turned to look at me.

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I just had to take a step back. Protect myself. Feel everything. Sort it out.”

I nodded, words lodged somewhere deep in my chest.

Matt nudged my shoulder with his. “You two look happy. He’s been smiling again. Genuinely.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I laughed a little, wiping it quickly.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He stared at the water, lips pressing together in a line. Then:

“Just… take care of him, alright?” His voice was low, almost fragile. “Chris doesn’t open up easy. And when he loves—he loves hard.”

I nodded, blinking fast. “I will. I promise.”

Matt glanced at me again. “I do love you, you know.”

My heart stilled.

Then he laughed softly. “In a platonic way.”

A surprised giggle burst out of me. “I love you too. Also in a platonic way.”

He smiled — really smiled — and we sat there in silence again, but this time, it felt full. Whole.

The back door creaked.

Chris stepped out, barefoot, hair messy. “Hey—” He paused when he saw us.

Matt looked at him and gave a small nod — an unspoken green light. Forgiveness handed over without a speech.

Chris came to my side and slipped an arm around my waist, tugging me up gently.

“Ready to go in?” he asked softly.

I looked back at Matt. He just nodded once more, then turned back toward the stars.

And as Chris led me inside, hand in mine, I knew something had shifted tonight.

Something that had hurt… had healed.

yeah!

Janae 💋

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 31

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

The hallway was quiet except for the sound of my own breath.

I stood outside Chris’s door, knuckles hovering just above the wood. I’d been pacing back and forth for almost ten minutes now, heart racing, nerves tangled up with the need to be close to him again. After everything — the crash of the morning, the quiet tension that never fully left the air — I just… missed him.

I knocked once, soft enough to back out if I had to.

There was a rustle, then his voice — low, tired, but gentle.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

A pause. Then, “Yeah. Of course.”

I opened the door slowly. The light was dim, just the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand. Chris was lying in bed, hoodie half-pulled over his face, hair a mess, like he hadn’t moved in hours. But when he looked at me, he gave me a soft smile. Like even though he was drained, he was still glad I came.

He didn’t say anything, just patted the space beside him.

I walked over, slipping off my hoodie and climbing onto the bed. I didn’t even think—I just settled across his lap, straddling him while he stayed laid back. His hand slid instinctively to the small of my back, warm and grounding.

I looked down at him, heart pounding in my throat.

“I’m sorry again,” I whispered.

His fingers flexed slightly against my back.

“It’s okay, baby.” His voice cracked a little. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

The name hit me like a flutter in my chest. “Baby.”

He smirked, eyes flickering across my face.

“You like when I call you that?”

I rolled my eyes and looked away, cheeks warming.

He laughed softly, then added, “What about sweetheart? Or my pretty girl?”

My face burned. “Stop,” I whined, giggling.

He grinned and wrapped both arms around my waist. I leaned forward and let myself sink into him, my head resting in the curve of his neck. I could feel his breath when he spoke, his heartbeat under my cheek.

“You’re really bad at hiding your blush,” he whispered.

“I’m not blushing,” I lied.

“Sure, angel.”

I groaned softly, snuggling closer, and the movement made me shift over him just a little. I didn’t mean to press down—but I did. Just slightly.

Chris’s breath hitched.

“You can’t do that, baby,” he said suddenly, voice rougher than before.

I blinked, confused. “Do what?”

His grip on my waist tightened briefly. “That—don’t… move like that.”

I shifted again without thinking, trying to figure out what he meant—until I felt it.

Hard. Pressed against me. Growing.

I froze.

“Oh,” I breathed out. I lifted my head and stared at him. “Did I… was that me?”

He gave me a breathless smile, eyes a little dazed. “Yeah.”

“I— I’ve never… I mean, I’ve never gotten a guy hard before.”

Chris looked up at me with raised brows, amusement flickering in his expression.

“Baby… you’ve gotten me hard so many times. You just didn’t notice.”

I stared. My heart was doing this wild fluttering thing in my chest. “Wait, really?”

He nodded slowly. “Literally every time you lay on me. Or wear shorts around me. Or call me ‘Chris’ like that when you’re mad.”

I swallowed, heat rushing to my face.

We stayed still for a moment, quiet and close.

Then I whispered, “Can I… see it?”

His expression changed. Something deeper, still gentle, but cautious. “Are you serious?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean… if that’s okay.”

He sat up a little, watching me carefully, then reached down and pulled the waistband of his sweats down just enough. He didn’t stop looking at me the whole time.

I blinked at it — flushed, a little nervous, but curious too.

I hesitated, then reached out slowly.

His voice came out tight. “W-what are you doing?”

I shrugged, cheeks burning. “I just… I want to.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t stop me. He let me. His eyes fluttered shut when my hand wrapped gently around him, and I felt how hard he was, how warm, how real.

“You’re shaking,” I whispered.

“I know,” he breathed. “It’s just… you. It’s always been you.”

That sentence hit something deep inside me. I looked up at him, and he looked at me like I was something he didn’t think he deserved.

Like he was scared I’d disappear.

I leaned in slowly, pressing my forehead to his.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t.”

The room stayed quiet. Just the sound of our breathing, our hearts, the way his hands held me gently like I was made of glass.

And in that moment, I’d never felt more wanted.

More trusted.

More his.

Chris’s breath caught in his throat as my hand moved over him gently, carefully. I was nervous, but not scared. Curious, but not careless. His eyes stayed on me, glazed and half-lidded, and for the first time since I’d known him, he looked… undone.

Not because he wanted to be, but because he trusted me enough to fall apart.

He let out the softest whimper when my thumb brushed across the tip, and my cheeks flamed again.

“Sorry—was that—was that too much?”

He shook his head quickly, one hand coming up to cup my cheek. “No. God, no. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded, lips parted slightly as I watched him.

His other hand found my hip, squeezing softly like he needed to anchor himself. I could feel how warm his skin was under my fingers, how his stomach tensed every time I moved. He kept whispering my name, barely loud enough to hear.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?” I looked up, hand slowing.

His brows pulled together. “You don’t have to keep going.”

“I want to,” I said honestly, surprising myself. “I want to know what makes you feel good.”

That pulled a groan from his chest — not loud, but deep, like it came from somewhere he couldn’t control.

I smiled a little. “You’re so quiet about it.”

His head fell back against the pillows. “If I wasn’t trying so hard to be good right now, I’d be a lot louder.”

I blushed so hard I thought my skin might melt. my hand moved faster and his head fell back and he groaned.

i don’t know what compelled me all of a sudden. But i felt like I craved him like I needed him.

So without taking my eyes off of him I wrapped my lips around his tip. He shattered as one of his hands moved to run his fingers through my hair.

A low groan escapes chris lips as he feels the warmth of my mouth enveloping him. He thrusts gently, pushing deeper into my mouth, relishing the sensation of your tongue and soft cheeks surrounding his throbbing dick

“F-fuck y/n y-you don’t have to” he moaned his eyes rolling back. if anything that made me go faster.

subconsciously his hips jerked up, hitting the back of my throat over and over again I didn’t mind though because in this moment, he was mine and only mine.

“mmph of fuck i’m gonna-” and he came silently cursing under his lip.

his chest was rising up and down as he looked at me, he held his hand under my mouth. “shit sorry. spit.”

I had spat his cum into his hand, and he hand me a water bottle on his nightstand. “it’s okay i didn’t mind” i smiled at him



But something shifted in the air — something warm and soft and serious. Not lust, not pressure… just closeness. Chris reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For this. For trusting me. For being here even after everything.”

I leaned down and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. “You’re the only one I want to be with.”

His hands gripped my waist like that meant more to him than he could say. I slowly pulled my hand away, just wanting to lie on him now, to feel his arms around me.

When I curled into him again, his arms locked around me, and his heartbeat pounded steadily beneath my cheek.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have this again,” he whispered.

“Have what?”

“This. Someone who sees me… and still stays.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice was soft and tired and full of something fragile when he replied, “I hope not.”

⸻

We laid there for a long time, just breathing. Just holding each other. He whispered things in my hair — sleepy compliments, dumb jokes, soft I missed yous and you’re so prettys — and I let every word fill in the cracks inside me that I didn’t even know were there.

I didn’t fall asleep for a while. Neither did he.

But we didn’t need sleep.

We just needed this.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 30

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

I hadn’t slept much the night before.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Chris yelling. Felt the way my heart cracked open when he looked at me like I was a stranger. The confusion. The panic. The guilt.

All over a shirt I didn’t understand.

Now, as I stood at the top of the stairs, I heard voices murmuring below. Low. Serious. Familiar.

I padded down slowly, barefoot, the floorboards creaking under me. When I reached the bottom step, my stomach dropped.

Jimmy, Matt, and Chris were all seated at the dining room table. Silent. Waiting.

Matt looked up first. His expression wasn’t angry, just tired.

“Sit down,” he said, voice rough.

I hesitated, glancing at Chris. He wouldn’t even look at me. His arms were folded tightly, his shoulders tense, and he was staring at the table like it had done something wrong.

I sat down slowly, my fingers threading together in my lap. The air in the room felt heavy—like grief had shape and weight.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “There’s something you need to know.”

I nodded, staying quiet.

Matt leaned forward, his fingers pressing into the wood. “We weren’t always here. In LA. We grew up in Boston.”

That part I already knew. I nodded again.

Chris still didn’t say a word.

Matt continued. “When we were fourteen, Dad—Jimmy—got a job offer here in LA. It was something he’d been working toward for years. A huge deal.”

Jimmy added gently, “It meant a big move. Fast. We didn’t have much time to plan.”

Matt’s jaw clenched. “Nick and our mom stayed behind for one more night. Nick… he had someone he wanted to say goodbye to. His boyfriend.”

My breath caught. Nick. The name echoed in my chest.

Chris finally spoke, voice low. “He said it would just be one night.”

“And the next morning,” Matt continued, “they got on a private plane from Boston. They never made it.”

My heart stilled.

Chris’s knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the table.

“It crashed,” Matt said. “Somewhere outside of Philly. They didn’t find out until the next day.”

Silence fell over the table again. Thick and raw.

I could barely breathe. “I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I—Chris, I didn’t know.”

He flinched at the sound of his name but still didn’t look at me.

Jimmy sighed. “It… changed everything. Losing them like that.”

Matt rubbed his hands down his face, his voice strained. “Our mom was everything. Nick… he was the best of us.”

I looked down at my lap, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “I didn’t mean to wear his shirt. I found it in a box—I didn’t know it was his. I just—”

Chris’s voice cut through the air. Quiet, but full of exhaustion. “You looked happy in it.”

That shattered something in me.

Jimmy leaned back, his eyes soft but filled with sadness. “It hit all of us hard. But it hit Chris the most. He and Nick were inseparable.”

“I didn’t want anyone touching his stuff,” Chris whispered. “It’s all I have left. His shirt. His books. His shoes by the door—I never moved them.”

He finally looked up at me.

“I kept waiting for the day it wouldn’t hurt. That day never came.”

I nodded, tears spilling freely now. “I’m so sorry. I would’ve never worn it if I’d known. I swear.”

“I know,” he said.

His voice cracked.

“I know.”

Matt stood, suddenly pushing his chair back. He crossed the room, pacing a little before stopping at the window.

I stood up too. “Matt—”

“You didn’t know,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

My bottom lip trembled. “I never wanted to hurt any of you.”

He turned, finally facing me. “You’ve had to walk into a mess you didn’t cause. I get that. But this isn’t just about the shirt, Y/N. It’s about everything. What we lost. What we’re still losing.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I know it’s a lot. But I care about you both. I’m trying to understand.”

Chris stood now too, stepping beside me. “We’ve been living with this weight for years. Most people tiptoe around it. You just—walked into it.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

Jimmy stood last. He placed a hand on my shoulder gently. “Now you know. That’s all we wanted. Not blame. Not anger. Just… understanding.”

I nodded.

And I meant it.

My heart ached for what they’d lost. For the little boy Chris must’ve been, waiting for his brother to walk through the door. For the way Matt’s voice trembled when he said Nick’s name. For Jimmy, who had to bury both a child and his wife in the same breath.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “For all of it.”

They didn’t respond right away.

But Chris didn’t pull away when I reached for his hand.

And Matt, after a long pause, gave me a small nod.

⸻

Later that night, as the house settled into silence, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

My chest was heavy, but not with guilt anymore.

With love.

With something deeper than I’d known before.

With grief that wasn’t mine, but now… it felt like a part of me too.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me and whispered to the dark:

“I won’t ever forget him. I promise.”

Because love doesn’t end when someone’s gone.

It lingers.

It haunts.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky…

It lets you stay.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005