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cheezbites · 9 months

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Chris McLean As Your Ex

✎: My second Chrissy blog 🙈 it ain’t my fault he’s so bbg. (ex!Chris x f!reader) (Celebrity Reader)

♡Summary: Chris still has feelings for you after you broke up. Now he’s going to do everything in his power to win you back.

WARNINGS: Language, (toxic?) relationship, mild anxiety, arguing, angst, fluff, (catcalling?😭) smut next chapter and not really proofread. :(

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The day you met your ex-boyfriend Chris McLean was the day your picture-perfect life turned to shambles, or maybe it was the minute you agreed to host with him on his sadistic show… You were too busy to remember.

After filming another successful episode of your talk show: ‘Icons Unveiled', infamously known for it’s ‘unique’ contestants, (which is why people loved it so much) - the drama, fights and scandals discussed on your popular talk show are the main factors why people religiously tuned in. From a fourteen-year-old fanboy that became known online for hardcore obsessing over you, to an iconic personality with everyday petty drama that’s publicised way too often: GlamZoe.

And today’s episode featured a well-known kid influencer, Big Mia, and her ‘best friend’ Isabella, who blasted her secrets online for clout. Their feud only escalated, despite their ironic intention of 'peacefully hashing it out'.

“You’re calling me stupid? Bitch you were dumb enough to tell me all about yo’ shit in the first place. How ‘bout that?” Isabella disdainfully yelled, swiftly flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

“You only have clout because of me, know your place.” Big Mia retorted.

The audience erupted in applause, laughter, and audible gasps as a result of their vulgar responses.

“And? everyone likes me more than you anyways, so…”

“Guys - let’s relax, you came on here to bless this beef, not open a butcher shop.” You quipped, taking a sip of coffee from your signature ‘Icons Unveiled’ mug. The steam emitting from the mug fogged your Versace sunglasses, making you place them on your head.

“I’m gonna fight this hoe outside, how about that?” Big Mia asserted, rising from her seat as she tied her hair in a few sharp motions. Instinctively, security had to restrain her and ensure she remained seated. You noticed most fights were embellished by the participants for two reasons: you, a known and highly admired celebrity were witnessing it all unfold, and the instigating noisy audience: bloodthirsty for any scandal. People would do anything to Y/N L/N’s attention, anything.

You couldn’t refrain from seeing yourself and Chris in their thoughtless arguing, there was this one specific argument that was the final blow to your unhealthy relationship:

“Chris, we can’t keep hiding from talking about it. The fans are concerned, we need to address this situation openly.”

“We can’t risk making things worse by giving it more attention, they don’t need to know every detail.”

“But that’s the problem! they’re not stupid, they’ll eventually find out and they’ll lose trust in-“

“Trust me, I’ve been handling this for a long time. It’s better to let things settle on their own.”

“So have I! You’re not the only one, Chris. I’ll politely remind you I’m famous as well.”

“I know that… I know. I just can’t when you-“

“When I what? Am I just a distraction?”

That back-and-forth conversation went on and on… until it transitioned into an argument before even realising it.

“Changing our approach could backfire, Y/N! It will affect the ratings!”

“Ratings ratings ratings, that’s all you seem to care about!”

“I have to! Why don’t you don’t get it.”

“Tell me something, Chris. Who would you pick, me… or the ratings? The amazing fantastic ratings you can’t stop thinking about.”

“Y/N, just… fucking listen to me. You’re choosing to ignore me,"

In hindsight, your power couple relationship was really toxic. Instead of talking it out or apologising to one another, you just had sex. Which is exactly what you did after that argument, (yes, the same argument that made you breakup). You shouldn’t have to fuck or kiss someone to prove that you ‘love’ them, that’s a commonly known fact. Yet it seemed like your relationship didn’t get the message.

But your viewers were going to be thoroughly entertained by tonight’s episode, that’s for sure. As the bathtub’s floral, sweet-scented warm water soothed you, you enjoyed every second of the chaotic scene unfolding on your iPhone, making you feel amused and mildly exhausted. People never mention how drama is better tenfold when you’re actually witnessing it, front-row seats and all. Their animated gestures and exaggerated words only further enhanced their bickering. Soon enough, the speculations on social media were flooding in - so were your pay cheques.

You couldn’t resist but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Midway through the episode - just as they were about to reach the boiling point on your screen - your phone rang causing your heart to skip a beat. Nobody ever called you, the only exception was if it was undeniably crucial. Everyone understood how busy you were and the demands of your time. So when your phone chimed, that signalled something demanded immediate attention - the last thing you generously handed out.

The caller ID displayed ‘Liam Harrison’, your agent. You knew this wasn’t going to be just another casual conversation - he’d usually try to mask it as one before delivering bad news to you.

“Y/N?” he spoke, in that familiar gravelly voice you were unfortunately used to.

“Yes, this is she.” You laid back in your back tub and scarcely crossed your legs, mentally preparing for what was about to hit you.

“Tonight’s episode … crazy, right?” He said, a sense of relief lacing his words. Essentially because it was you who picked up the phone - not your voice note that he was unfortunately used to. You immediately picked up on the tone of his words and the slight relief present in them, It would be rare for anyone else to have picked up on this, but you were discreetly intuitive.

“Mmm,” you hummed in response.

“Right, erm, so I’m sure you’re aware of the high demand and the public being visibly upset about your absence on Total Drama.”

“Fuck me…” you muttered as you massaged your temples. Your anxiety gnawed at your thoughts, making you toy with your hair as you listened. As Liam presented his case, the high demand, phenomenal ratings, substantial income - the best part of it all: the increased fame.

You were focusing on the coffee mug that sat on the edge of your bathtub as you inattentively listened, it would always be comfortably cupped in your hands for every single episode as you watched scandals unfold, the viewers always called it ‘iconic’. Its pink interior contrasted the pristine white exterior, ‘Icons Unveiled’ etched onto the surface in a delicate font, this globally adored mug had soon gained a life of its own. It became so popular that it would be more rare to see someone who didn’t have your mug than to see someone who did.

Your business-savvy mindset embodied your influence, the minute you put them on sale it was even titled ‘The long-awaited merchandise masterpiece’, and it sold out in under half a minute. ‘Skyrocketing’ would be an understatement to describe how the sales performed - and it wasn’t just that, you sold coffee blends crafted to your taste, cute matching sets with your infamous catchphrase: ‘Getting up, close and personal with the icons!” and so on. Amidst your racing thoughts and tremors of anxiety, you realised something. Your smart business decisions pushed you so far ahead in the entertainment industry, something even Chris, (with all his charisma), hadn’t managed to accomplish yet.

“Y/N, what do you say?”

The abrupt noise enticed you to faintly jump, being so lost in your never-ending thoughts made you completely forget the disheartening situation you were in. You knew the moment you said ‘Yes.’ was the moment you sold your soul to the devil, to your demise to you have no other choice.

“I can’t wait,” you stated, not sounding as confident as you intended to.

“Great. We will be handling the contracts, drafting, legal approvals… all that stuff. As well as the promotional campaign to build anticipation for your appearance.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Goodnight, Ms. (L/N).”

“Night, Liam.” You hung up and your iPhone automatically resumed Icons Unveiled, you absentmindedly watched as your mind was in a completely different place.

The recruitment made sense so you couldn’t be too upset about it, when two wealthy and famous personalities collide, the mesmerising sparks are inevitable. You’ve built countless businesses just by having people on your show, you were consistent and dedicated to your craft, and some may say that you had it easy - that you were rich the moment you were born and got everything you wanted, luxuries and riches were an everyday thing. You played your cards right, became rich and famous, and were worshipped worldwide. Your alluring and humble personality made you hard to ignore giving your universal appeal, evoking envy and admiration from others in the entertainment industry.

Maybe this was what led to your breakup - your wits and marketing techniques may have triggered Chris to be slightly envious. But you weren’t innocent either; as his fame grew over time so did your jealousy. You weren’t exactly the jealous type, though. But the constant comparisons, busy schedules and fans feeding his already indestructible ego ignited something in you that you never knew was there.

On the other hand, he started feeling uneasy about your immense success. Chris was mainly looked down upon, but viewers kept tuning in as they were in a trance by the cruel ideas he came up with. You positively influenced your fans (or so they thought), but deep down you were just like him. You hated admitting it but you were both equally insane, you were made for each other. The spotlight that shone on you made him question whether he could measure up to your achievements, and he hated that.

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After a long yacht journey, you arrived at Camp Wawanakwa; your new dreadful and thankfully temporary home. An isolated island with an untamed forest, towering trees and tepid cabins. The air’s musk had an earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves, the nostalgic smell that without warning brought you back to when you previously hosted.

As you stepped out of the lavish yacht, nervousness and excitement churred in your stomach. Chef, Chris’s loyal assistant, greeted you with a warm smile.

“You look just as young as I last saw you,” he chuckled in that familiar thick and passionate voice. Chef afforded you a reassuring pat on the back as he helped you with your luggage.

Although the campers were confined to their cabins until filming began, you could sense the excitement from the peeks you caught through the cabin windows. Whispers, screeches and a few wolf whistles followed you as Chef guided you to ‘The Chris Crib’.

You couldn’t resist but to wave at the girl's cabin, and blow a platonic kiss to the boys.

“Oh my God! Y/N L/N waved at me!”

“No, she waved at me! We all saw it!”

“Shut up - she waved at all of us.”

“Boys… she clearly digs us.”

“Yeah, did you see the way she blew that kiss?”

“She’s so fucking hot, I need her in my bed.”

When you entered the ‘Chris Crib’, (which looked way better than the worn-out cabins, very typical of Chris) the first thing you did was walk into your room to unpack your bags, not even bothering to greet …him. Your room was left untouched and Chris's faint scent lingered; a subtle sweet-smelling cologne. You caught sight of some lingering items you left behind.

You changed into your pyjamas, a silky white spaghetti top paired with satin shorts. After a brief moment, you picked up on the faint sound of his voice, your nosiness forcing you to overhear. He spoke in a hushed tone about how he couldn’t get you out of his head - how he still loved you and wanted to see you. Yeah, right. With the way he treated you? Sure he did. He can keep lying to himself if that’s what helps him sleep at night after tormenting innocent teenagers.

But the weight of your emotions and the relentless grip of anxiety had been tightening around you for weeks, pulling you into a tornado of racing thoughts. Today was no different, you found yourself lost in thought, sitting in your bathtub - the one inside the bathroom which was connected to your bedroom, you were still fully clothed in your PJs. You didn't even bother to lock any doors, so anyone could walk in at any given moment. A rumour on socials spread like wildfire about Icons Unveiled being staged, making your viewers worried and doubting you and your show.

Maybe you actually were just like Chris? You cared too much about what the fans thought. More than you think you should - but it was reasonable - they were your source of income. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s okay, your team would handle it, right? It’s all going to be okay. But this subtly affected your episode’s performances, some days you were better at hiding your inner emotions than others but the speculations made it ten times more difficult. This coupled with the continuous pressure to serve content was a lethal combo. You were grappling with the mounting burnout that had begun to take a toll on your physical and mental health.

The announcement of co-hosting TDI was a cruel twist of fate, a decision driven more by the demands than your own desires. As you wrestled with your thoughts, your racing heart gave way to a full-blown panic attack. Your audible heartbeat and heavy breathing and an overwhelming urge to just escape… You felt as if these were your last moments, as if these were your last breaths, last heartbeats.

This situation couldn’t get any worse until Chris walked in, you didn’t even want to look at him. Your wet hair draped over your shoulders and shielded your face, yet you could still sense a worried and concerned expression on his face. He’s seen this happen before - you had odd ways of coping, the one he was most used to was drowning yourself in your thoughts in any accessible bathtub. He saw your vulnerability and offered a steadying hand like he was reminding you that you weren’t alone.

“Hey, hey - take deep breaths,” His voice was gentle yet reassuring. He knelt beside you, and even though your pyjamas had turned completely see-through, he placed one hand comfortably around your back.

“I’ve got you, alright? You’re safe here.”

You reluctantly nodded, trying to focus on his words as your heart’s abnormally fast rate gradually decreased. But you couldn’t prevent the tears streaming down your face, tracing a scorching path along your cheek. The once bubbly and vibrant colour of your eyes was killed by the bloodshot hue, your breath hitched in your throat, catching on the sobs that wrecked your body. Each gasp for air was a painful reminder of the tightness gripping your chest.

“Panic attacks are tough, you’ve faced harder challenges. Remember that time you nailed that live episode? You’ve got this, listen to my voice.” he continued, his tone steady.

You always liked listening to his voice, so that would be simple enough task. It was husky and satisfying to the ears; it effortlessly put you to sleep on multiple occasions. You mentally recalled the day you had a panic attack before filming a segment for Icons Unveiled, three of your team members spent what felt felt like fifteen painstakingly slow minutes trying to calm you down. When it was Chris, him being there for only a minute or a few seconds would have you feeling much more serene.

You closed your eyes, trying to heed his words. You haven’t met his gaze once this whole time, avoiding revisiting the memories you shared just by simply looking at him. His presence was like an anchor, bringing you to reality amid the chaos in your mind. As your breathing slowed, his hand never left your side. “This will pass, you’ve got the power to overcome it.”

Finally, your words escaped your lips, and the grip you had on his other hand tightened as if your life depended on it, which heavily contradicted your next statement:

“I hate you.” The words were tremulous and engulfed with tension, yet your gaze told a different story. He knew you better than you realised - the emotional whirlwind that was happening inside you, and the conflicting feelings.

He hated (when I say hated I mean hated) seeing you in this state, struggling to fight an extremely challenging battle was so hard for him to see. He knew deep down it was because of him, which made him feel way worse. In that look you gave him, he sensed your frustration and appreciation. The Y/N way of acknowledging his presence when words weren’t enough.

No, he doesn't genuinely care... he's crazy. Crazy would be an understatement to factually describe him, you've seen the shit he pulls on his show. Chris is an emotionless man - in your scenario, it was all different. You give him emotions he's never felt before.

He gently tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering momentarily. His voice was a soft barely audible whisper,

“I know.”

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Part Two

Also, holy shit. I would've never thought I’d make it this far- THANK YOU SO MUCH BBS!!!💕 Sending virtual hugs rn.

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