Next Fic—

I lost my brown mascara I’m gonna kms

skating in CIRCLES

chris sturniolo and reader

summary.. Even when he’s about to bust his ass, all he can think about is holding your hand.

The night hums with laughter and the low whir of wheels against polished wood, neon lights flickering against the glossy rink floor. You’re still holding Chris’ hand when he groans, trying to pull you back toward the booths.

“Baby, I swear—” His voice is taut with frustration, but you just smile, dragging him forward.

“Just one more time,” you plead, eyes bright, tugging him onto the rink again.

He stumbles the second he lets go of the railing, his grip on you tightening. He’s stiff, unsteady, but you keep him upright, your fingers warm against his.

Nate and his girl sweep past effortlessly, barely even pushing off the ground. “Dude, just use the walker,” Nate calls over his shoulder, grinning.

Chris shoots him a look, jaw locking. “Yeah, that’s never happening.”

The truth is, he knows it would help. Knows he’d stop making a fool of himself, stop tripping over his own damn feet. But the walker doesn’t have your hand in his, doesn’t give him the excuse to keep reaching for you every time he wobbles.

So he keeps stumbling. And you keep laughing, and he keeps pretending like this isn’t the best part of his night.

After what feels like hours of this, of almost-falling, of grabbing at your waist to keep from wiping out, of you tugging him forward when he’s barely caught his breath, he finally digs his heels in.

“Alright, alright, I’m done.” He pulls you off the rink before you can argue, collapsing into one of the booths. His fingers are still curled around yours, but he’s catching his breath now, his head tipped back against the seat.

“Quitter,” you tease.

Chris huffs, but his smirk is easy, blue eyes flicking to yours. “Survivalist.”

He disappears to the concession stand before you can respond, coming back with a tray, fries, a Coke, and that soft pretzel you eyed earlier but never mentioned. He sets it in front of you without a word, then slides into the seat beside you, his thigh pressed lightly against yours.

“Bribery?” you ask, plucking a fry from the tray.

“Strategy,” he corrects, stealing one for himself.

The night hums on around you, pop songs blaring through cheap speakers, couples spinning on the rink, Nate and his girl wrapped up in their own world, but here, in this moment, it’s just the two of you.

Your gaze drifts to the photo booth pictures you took earlier, the strip of images sitting between you on the table. The first one is normal, both of you grinning at the camera. The second, you’re laughing, and Chris is looking at you instead of the lens. The third, he doesn’t know what the hell happened there, but it makes you smile, so he doesn’t question it.

He watches as you run your fingers over the glossy paper, your lips quirking. He leans in slightly, voice low.

“So,” he murmurs, nudging your knee with his. “How much do I gotta pay you to let me keep this one?”

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

I love when ppl react to Poc casting for white characters and say “well then let’s make Tiana white” like go ahead. I love it because Disney would never do it. Like we all know Disney would rather close down Disney world then ever dare to make Tiana, pochohantas, mulan, jasmine white. Like let’s be real I just love it when they cry about it because ITS NOT GONNA HAPPEN AND THEYRE SICK. I just love that their childhood is being taken over by poc women it brings a smile to my face seriously I love it

Imagine gossip girl in the 70s. Like gossip girl wouldn’t be able to use phones or anything maybe it would be like a page on a teen magazine with a cute ass title page OMGG the style would be 10/10 I wanna write this so bad🙏🏽🎀

guys i can’t hold it in anymore andy samberg is top 10 finest celebrities

HE’S FUNNY, HE HAS NICE HAIR, HE’S FUNNY, HE’S HANDSOME, HE’S FUNNY.

Literal doll

YAHT ROCK???? Oh you see my exact vision

⋆ ࣪introducing.. 70s GOLDEN BOY ART DONALDSON

golden boy art.. may live and breathe tennis, but he’s not just his sport. Off the court, he’s the picture of effortless style, pressed polos, crisp white shorts, loafers without socks, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose like he belongs in some glossy magazine spread. Even when he’s lounging, he looks like he has somewhere important to be, like he’s already won at something.

golden boy art.. doesn’t read much, but when he does, it’s always something too intellectual, something dense and complicated. He wants to be the kind of guy who reads Camus or Kerouac at a party, drink in hand, looking effortlessly cool, but the truth is, he barely makes it past the first few pages before he gets bored. Still, he keeps a book on his nightstand, just in case.

golden boy art.. was raised in country clubs and private schools, where competition was just as much about who you knew as how you played. He’s always been good at both. He knows how to charm the right people, shake the right hands, flash the right smirk. He’s got that old money ease, the kind of confidence you can’t fake, but underneath it all, there’s something restless. Like he’s always searching for the next thing to chase, the next high, the next game.

golden boy art.. was raised in country clubs and private schools, where competition was just as much about who you knew as how you played. He’s always been good at both. He knows how to charm the right people, shake the right hands, flash the right smirk. He’s got that old money ease, the kind of confidence you can’t fake, but underneath it all, there’s something restless. Like he’s always searching for the next thing to chase, the next high, the next game.

golden boy art.. never turns down a dare. Jumping into pools fully clothed, sneaking into concerts without tickets, taking a road trip to nowhere just because someone said he wouldn’t. He thrives on impulse, the thrill of the unexpected, the idea that life is only as interesting as you make it.

golden boy art.. is secretly a romantic, but he’d rather die than admit it. He doesn’t do grand gestures, but he’ll remember the way you take your coffee, the song you hum under your breath, the exact shade of your eyes when the sun hits them just right. He teases more than he compliments, but when he does say something sweet, it sticks with you for days.

golden boy art.. loves the ocean. Not just for the way it looks, but for the way it feels, cold saltwater against sunburned skin, the endlessness of it, the way it makes him feel small in a way he actually likes. He’ll dive under waves like he’s chasing something, stay out there longer than he should, come back to shore breathless and grinning.

golden boy art.. has a way of making everyone feel like they belong, even when he feels out of place himself. He’s the life of the party but also the guy who’ll sneak out early just to drive around with the windows down, radio low, smoke curling from his lips as he sings along to some song no one else remembers.

golden boy art.. is the guy who falls asleep with a book on his chest but never actually finishes reading it. He likes the idea of being well-read, but he prefers stories that move, movies, music, things with rhythm and motion. He’s seen every classic film twice and can quote entire scenes from memory. He thinks Casablanca is overrated but The Graduate is genius.

golden boy art.. loves the chase. Loves the way people look at him, the way they lean in when he talks, the way they fall into his orbit without him having to try too hard. He flirts like it’s a game, all teasing grins and lingering touches, but sometimes, just sometimes, he catches himself meaning it. And that terrifies him.

golden boy art.. is all confidence and charm until he isn’t. There are nights when the weight of expectation feels heavier than his racket, when the pressure knots in his chest so tightly he can barely breathe. He doesn’t talk about it. Doesn’t know how to talk about it. Instead, he drowns it in late-night drives and half-finished cigarettes, in the feeling of someone else’s hand in his, grounding him, steadying him, reminding him that he’s not just golden boy Art Donaldson, but something more. Something real.

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt

introducing..

໑ 70s DOUCHEBAG CHRIS

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who is the self-appointed king of his high school. He revels in tormenting underclassmen, making them run errands or embarrass themselves for his amusement.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who never misses an opportunity to mention he’s a senior, even in completely unrelated conversations.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who drives a 1971 Chevy Chevelle he’s named “Eclipse,” which he constantly brags about but treats terribly.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who always the loudest guy at every party, either hogging the aux cord to play Dark Side of the Moon or challenging someone to a keg stand.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who flirts shamelessly, leaning into his “asshole” image. He’ll toss out lines like, “Why are you with that guy when you could have someone like me?”

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who’s success rate is higher than it should be, much to the frustration of his peers.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who will say things like, “You know, time is just a construct, man,” while ignoring that he’s failing history class.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who has an “intellectual” side where he quotes Pink Floyd lyrics as if they’re his original thoughts.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who keeps a beat-up notebook hidden in his car where he scrawls angsty poems inspired by Wish You Were Here. He’d never admit it, but they’re mostly about a girl who rejected him sophomore year.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who despite his bravado, Chris is secretly dreading leaving high school. The real world scares him, and he has no idea what he wants to do.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who knows every lyric from The Wall and will fight anyone who says it’s overrated. He once got detention for arguing with a teacher who claimed Led Zeppelin was better.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who has lost more money than he’d care to admit betting on street races or card games. His friends joke that he has “negative luck.”

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who never admit it, Chris has a few Bee Gees records tucked behind his Pink Floyd collection. He sometimes dances to Stayin’ Alive when he’s alone in his room.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who whether it’s for pizza, gas, or concert tickets, Chris is notorious for saying, “I’ll get you back,” and then never following through.

lemme know if you wanna be in my taglist

@lovelymylene <3

love ur blog so much teenage dirtbag hamzah is my absolute favvv 🥲

I literally love you tysm. I’m writing smth for him rn I just got a request 🎀