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darksturnz · 3 months ago

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── ⋮ ⌗ TOGETHER. . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

this is a part of a series, but can be read on its own! everyone thank @y3sterdaysproblem for proof reading :3. CONTENTS: smut heavy-plot, p n v , virginity talk??? + more . . .

star was laid flat across chris’ bed, his sheets twisted between her legs as she rambled on and on about interstellar. her voice bounced lazily off the walls, half-thoughts spilling out while she stared at the ceiling like she hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes picking the whole movie apart.

chris sat at the small desk in the corner, breaking up bud over the sketchbook he’d been working in earlier. he wasn’t really paying attention to the drawing anymore, just nodding along as she talked, fingers moving slow and practiced. lila was out for the night, sleeping over at a friend’s place, so the evening had been quiet—takeout, a movie, and now the joint he was almost finished rolling.

“no, but seriously,” star said, turning her head toward him, “the whole fifth dimension thing? like, if time isn’t linear, then how do we even know we’re not already dead and just watching it all in reverse?”

“jesus christ,” chris muttered, licking the edge of the paper. “i liked it better when you were talkin’ about the cornfield.”

he sealed it, smoothed it down, and finally stood up, stretching his arms above his head before walking over to the bed.

as soon as he sat down, star moved without thinking—climbing straight into his lap, legs folding around him like it was nothing. he settled against the headboard, leaning back as she got comfortable, her arms draped loosely over his shoulders.

“you’re warm,” she murmured, cheek pressing to his collarbone.

“you’re needy.”

“you like it.”

he lit the joint, took the first hit, then passed it to her. they fell quiet for a minute, the kind of quiet that only ever showed up when they were high together—slow, lazy, and soft around the edges.

he caught her staring a second later. just… looking at him.

“what,” he said, glancing over.

she shrugged, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “you’re pretty.”

his ears flushed instantly. he rolled his eyes, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “shut up.”

“m’serious,” she grinned, taking the joint back and inhaling slowly. “you have like, really stupidly pretty eyes. it’s upsetting.”

“thank you baby”,his hands found her thighs without thinking, fingers kneading softly at the bare skin there. her hand drifted to his jaw, thumb brushing over the faint stubble he hadn’t bothered shaving.

“you should grow this out,” she said.

he snorted. “ma said i look like a bum when i don’t shave.”

“well,” she shrugged, “guess i’m really attracted to bums then.”

he huffed out a laugh, rubbed his thumb along her inner thigh. “kinda feels like your legs three days after you shave.”

she gasped, smacked his chest. “ok asshole.”

“m’just sayin’,” he laughed.

she shook her head, climbing off his lap like she was done with him, but he caught her waist before she could get far and pulled her back down, flipping them easy. she landed against the mattress with a soft thud, his weight settling beside her, head dropping to her stomach.

her fingers went straight to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp like she always did. he sighed, melted into it, still holding the joint between his fingers.

the edge of her tank top had ridden up somewhere in the shuffle, exposing a sliver of her stomach, warm and soft beneath his cheek. he pressed a lazy kiss there without really thinking.

she laughed. “that feels weird.”

he didn’t respond. just took another slow drag.

“are you really fallin’ asleep?”

“playin’ with my hair like that,” he mumbled, “you’re askin’ for it.”

she tugged lightly at the strands between her fingers. “no, don’t go to sleep.”

“would be your fault.”

he shifted, adjusting to look up at her, one hand bracing on the bed—and accidentally flicked ash across her stomach.

“chris,” she said flatly.

he blinked, then looked down. “shit. my bad.”

she was already swiping at it, flicking the rest onto the floor. “you just branded me, i hope you’re happy.”

“kinda,” he grinned.

her fingers went back to moving through his hair, slow and easy, scratching lightly at his scalp in a rhythm that had him practically melting against her. but somewhere in the silence, somewhere between her nails dragging along the back of his neck and the way her breathing shifted beneath him, something in his chest tightened.

she tugged gently at a handful of his hair, half playing, half not, and he exhaled against her stomach, eyes fluttering shut for a second too long.

then he kissed her there again. soft, just a peck.

then another a little lower.

she didn’t say anything and didn’t stop touching him.

he pushed himself up just enough to lean over, reaching past her to the nightstand, stubbing the joint out in the ashtray before shifting back over her.

he kissed her once—slow, his lips pressing to hers like he had all the time in the world. she kissed him back just as slow, tongue brushing against his, her hand curling at the nape of his neck.

they pulled apart for a breath, and he didn’t go far. just pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then her jaw, then lower.

her breath hitched when he found the spot just beneath her ear, his mouth opening slightly, tongue dragging over the skin before he sucked. not hard, just enough to pull a quiet sound from her throat.

“what are you doing,” she asked, barely above a whisper.

he mumbled something into her neck, but it was too low to catch.

his mouth kept moving—down the slope of her neck, across her collarbones. he stopped just above the swell of her chest, nosed at the hem of her tank like he was thinking about it, then sat back on his knees.

his hands slid under the fabric, resting gently at her waist. his thumbs rubbed soft circles into her skin as he stared down at her, eyes glassy and red-rimmed, lips kiss-swollen and parted.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he said, voice quiet and real. “you know that?”

star’s eyes flicked away for half a second, something shy pulling at her mouth. her cheeks flushed deeper, the ache between her legs sharp and growing. chris’ hands kept moving, slow up and down her sides, fingertips dragging along her skin like he couldn’t decide where to settle, like he wanted to memorize every inch.

“if i was any higher i’d could probably cry over it,” he mumbled.

she laughed, her hand resting against his stomach. “you’re stupid.”

he smirked, fingers drifting lower, toying lazily with the waistband of her sweats. her breath caught the second his pointer finger slipped underneath, brushing against the soft skin just beneath. it tickled a little, and she squirmed, smiling.

then she sat up, closing the distance between them, hands finding the back of his neck as she pulled him in for another kiss. it was even slower this time, a little more open, a little more sure. he kissed her back without hesitation, one hand finding the small of her back as the other braced them both.

he kissed her down onto the bed, their mouths still locked, and shifted his body until his hips pressed flush to hers. the weight of him settled between her legs, and the second she felt the shape of him— already getting hard, even through the layers between them—her whole body reacted.

her hips lifted slightly, trying to get closer, the friction sparking something desperate deep in her gut.

their kiss turned sloppy fast, tongues dragging, teeth brushing, soft whimpers falling from her mouth as he started to rock into her, slow and steady. her thighs squeezed around him, hips lifting to match his pace.

his hand found her hip, gripping firm, guiding her into him. their rhythm synced fast, practiced without ever having done this before.

“fuck,” he muttered against her mouth, eyes flicking down to where their hips were moving together. his forehead rested against hers as they looked down, breath hot between them.

it was practically dry humping at that point—both of their sweats pushed low, underwear clinging damp between them, his cock grinding against her clit in perfect rhythm. he groaned, jaw clenched, whole body tense.

“star,” he breathed, “if we don’t stop, i’m gonna come in my fuckin’ pants.”

she let out a breathy laugh, voice shaky. “should we stop?”

he nodded fast. “yeah… yeah, we should stop.”

but he didn’t.

his hips pressed harder into hers, grinding slow and deep, and the way his cock dragged right against her clit made her gasp.

“chris—” she whined, hips stuttering.

he kissed her jaw, her neck, her mouth again, fingers digging into her waist.

she tried to speak but it came out in broken gasps, her voice catching—“y-you’re…, you’re not stopping, chris.”

his groan was low, almost guttural. “i know, baby. m’sorry… jus’ feels so fuckin’ good.”

she moaned again, louder now, grinding up into him, her face flushed and eyes glassy.

he kissed her hard, barely holding himself together, completely lost in the way she moved against him. both of them soaked through, shaking from the pressure, and neither of them pulling away.

the air between them felt too hot, too tight, their bodies grinding together in that perfect rhythm, both breathless and completely gone. chris could feel how wet she was even through the layers—her cunt practically pulsing against him every time his cock dragged over her clit. it was slow but messy, and chris was fucking thriving off of it.

“fuck, baby,” he muttered, hips jerking into her harder, “you feel so good like this.”

she whined under him, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, her head tipping back against the pillow, exposing her neck. he kissed it without thinking, sucked just hard enough to hear the sound she made when he did.

he rocked into her again and she moaned, hips rolling up to meet him.

“chris,” she gasped, “please…”

he gritted his teeth, buried his face in her neck. “please what?”

she squirmed, hands gripping his arms now. “please fuck me.”

he groaned loud against her skin, like it physically knocked the air out of him. his hips bucked hard without warning, cock grinding right against where she needed him most.

he started to reach down, already fumbling to get his sweats low, heart pounding, mind foggy, body aching for it.

but then he froze and his breath caught, the weight of what she said crashed into him all at once.

they’d never done this. not all the way, and he was already halfway there like his body hadn’t even asked permission, even when he hadn’t stopped to ask her.

he lifted his head, eyes glassy, jaw tight. “wait—fuck, wait, are you sure? i don’t wanna do this if you feel like you have to—”

but before he could finish, her hand slipped between them.

she slid it right under the waistband of his sweats, fingers wrapping around his cock, he almost collapsed right there.

she looked up at him, dead serious, eyes wide and clear despite how wrecked she looked.

“i want this,” she said, voice steady. “i want you. please.”

he didn’t respond with words, his mouth crashed into hers, hot and fucking desperate, hand moving fast to shove his sweats and boxers down. hers followed, her hips lifting as he helped her out of hers, both of them half-shaking, fumbling, kissing through every second like they couldn’t afford to stop.

he reached blindly for the drawer beside the bed, still kissing her, half on top of her now as his hand rummaged through the mess inside—sketch pencils, a lighter, receipts, loose change—but no condoms.

“fuck me,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look, voice low and tight. “shit, shit, shit.”

star blinked up at him, still catching her breath. “what?”

he sat up, running a hand down his face. “i don’t have any.”

she furrowed her brows. “i saw some in there like… not even a few weeks ago?”

“yeah, i threw ‘em out.”

“you threw them out?”

“they were expired. and we never—” he waved a hand between them, “—we never got this far so i wasn’t exactly in a rush to buy more.”

star stared at him, quiet, lips parted.

he sighed, already leaning back like he was calling it. “it’s okay, we’ll just… sleep. i’ll grab some tomorrow and we can—”

“you’ve lost your fuckin’ mind if you think i’m going to sleep right now.”

his eyes snapped to hers.

“chris,” she said, voice serious, “i have never wanted to be fucked this badly in my life.”

his mouth opened. nothing came out.

“you could just go raw.”

his eyes widened, like full-body shock.

“what—” his voice cracked. “what?”

“as long as you pull out, we should be good, right?”

he stared at her. blinked. nodded slowly.

she tilted her head. “so what are you waiting for?”

he swallowed, hard. “uh—i’ve never gone raw before.”

she blinked at him. “huh?”

“not even once.”

“with all your hookups?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

he shook his head. “no.”

“why?”

he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly unsure of where to look. “i don’t know. it’s just… personal. felt like too much.”

she stared at him, then let out a soft breath, sitting back against the pillows. the room went quiet for a second.

“…so this is kinda like your virginity too,” she said, a slow smile creeping up her face. “raw virginity.”

his head dropped. “you’re so stupid.”

“no but like. this is kinda beautiful.”

he looked at her, deadpan. “shut the fuck up.”

she laughed, loud and breathy, and he couldn’t help it—he laughed too, burying his face in her neck for a second.

when it faded, she looked at him again, more serious this time. “but i’m being serious. i’m ready. and i’m more than okay with it. as long as you are.”

he didn’t hesitate. “ ‘course i am.”

their lips met again, full of something warm and dizzying. he settled between her legs, his cock resting against her soaked cunt, and everything in him screamed to take it slow.

he lined himself up, his hands gripping her waist, her legs wrapping around him without him even asking. he kissed her again—one soft press to her lips, then another to her cheek, then her jaw.

he pushed in slow.

her breath hitched, fingers locking around his wrists. he went inch by inch, stopping when he felt her tense, brushing his thumb over her ribs, waiting for her to nod before going further.

once he was fully inside her, he stilled.

like completely still, afraid to hurt her in any way.

his forehead dropped to hers, their breath mingling, her walls fluttering around him as she adjusted. he didn’t say a word—just stayed there, holding her hand, chest heaving.

“chris,” she whispered after a while, voice barely there, “you can move.”

he still didn’t, too caught up in trying not to come right then and there.

her hips rocked upward, slow and tentative, trying to get friction.

he groaned—loud—eyes squeezing shut. “baby… fuck.”

“please.”

his hips rolled forward, just once, and she whimpered, legs tightening around him.

she was a mess beneath him, panting, moaning, her body twitching with every slow drag of his cock inside her. he tried to stay calm, to take his time, but her cunt was clenching around him so tight, so perfect, and the way she sounded—

“shiiiiit,” he breathed, “you’re squeezin’ me like that and expectin’ me to behave?”

“can’t help it,” she whimpered, back arching. “feels so good.”

he kissed her again, messy and deep, his hand locking around her thigh as he started to fuck her—slow but deeper now, a familiar rhythm catching.

“you’re drivin’ me crazy,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. feel so close to you.”

her eyes rolled back, mouth falling open around a moan. she gripped at his back, her nails dragging down his shoulder blades.

he was losing it—hips stuttering, brain fogged out, every nerve in his body lighting up.

“fuck, star,” he groaned, “i haven’t fucked in months, i’m gonna fuckin’ embarrass myself.”

she shook her head, gasping. “don’t care—keep going.”

chris let out the softest “fuck,” breath all tangled up in hers, like he was trying to hold back and falling apart anyway. his hands tightened around her waist, dragging her hips just a little closer as he fucked back into her, slow and deep and so unbelievably careful. like he didn’t trust himself not to lose it if he went too hard too fast.

but star wasn’t shy anymore.

every thrust had her moaning, legs wrapping tighter around him, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer like she didn’t care where it ended as long as it was him. her head fell back against the pillow, jaw slack, lips parted as her whimpers turned desperate.

“chris,” she breathed, voice wrecked, “feels so good, i don’t wanna stop—”

“not gonna,” he murmured, mouth dragging along her collarbone, “you’re takin’ it so good, doin’ so good for me.”

his pace quickened. not rough, but more intent. less hesitation, more need. his body rolled into hers, every drag of his cock pressing deep, nudging that spot inside her that made her hips stutter and her walls tighten.

and god, he felt it.

the way she clenched around him, again and again, her whole body twitching like she was losing control—he was right there with her, sweat beading at his brow, muscles tense like one more second inside her would wreck him.

“you close?” he asked, barely holding it together, voice hoarse.

she nodded, cheeks flushed, tears starting to prick at the corners of her eyes from how overwhelming it all felt. “so close,” she whimpered, “don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

his hand slipped between them, thumb rubbing tight, slow circles over her clit while he fucked her through it. she broke apart seconds later—high-pitched and breathless, her back arching, whole body tightening around him as she came hard, moaning his name like it was all she had left.

chris nearly lost it right then.

“shit, baby—fucking hell dude, i’m gonna—where do you want—”

“i don’t care jus’ want it,” she breathed out, chest still heaving, eyes glassy.

he nodded quickly, kissed her one more time, then pulled out with a low groan and wrapped his hand around himself. he jerked once, twice—eyes locked on hers—before he came hard, warm stripes of it spilling across her belly while he groaned her name through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body locking up from the release.

he collapsed onto his side next to her, panting, one arm lazily thrown across her waist as they both tried to catch their breath.

neither of them spoke for a minute.

it was just labored breathing, skin against skin and the faint hum of the TV still on in the background and the sound of their hearts trying to slow down.

chris finally lifted his head, looked down at the mess across her stomach, then back up at her and they locked eyes.

star snorted.

he blinked. “what.”

“that was so romantic,” she laughed, voice still wrecked. “looked me dead in the eyes while you came on my stomach. movie scene type shit.”

he groaned, dropped his face into her shoulder, laughing too now. “you’re such a pain in the ass.”

“ok but tell me i’m wrong.”

“you’re not,” he mumbled, still breathless.

they laid there a little longer, his hand drifting over her side, slow and soft, like he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. then he sat up, grabbing the towel off the floor and gently wiping her stomach clean, quiet as he did it.

“you okay? was it okay?” he asked once she was settled again, hand still on her hip.

she nodded, turning into him, burying her face in his chest. “more than okay.”

he kissed the top of her head. “good.”

they curled into each other, her leg tossed over his hip, his arm wrapped around her back. he was still coming down from it, mind racing but body soft, warm all over.

she traced lazy shapes into his chest.

“you really never went raw before?” she asked, teasing but genuine.

he nodded. “nah, not once.”

“so technically we lost something together.”

he glanced down at her, eyes soft. “guess we did.”

“gross,” she muttered, grinning.

authors note: this opened a lot of future opportunities lolllll.

#𑁍ࠬܓdarksturnz #𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fanfiction #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut

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darksturnz · 7 days ago

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── ⋮ ⌗ CAKES & CONFESSIONS . . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: fluff + explicit smut, p in v sex, creampie, power play, spanking, oral (m & f receiving), explicit language, rough sex + so much more . . . WC: 12.5k :p!!

chris woke up to an empty bed and muffled giggles slipping under the crack of his door. he stayed still for a moment, letting the sound reach him while his head caught up with the morning. his eyes were dry, his face tight from the salt of tears he hadn’t fully washed away last night. it came back in pieces as he sat up, evelyn’s hand in his hair, her voice breaking, the weight of everything he’d finally let out after holding it so long. his chest still ached, sore in a way that felt deeper than muscle.

he dragged a hand over his face and pushed himself upright. every part of him felt heavy from yesterday. the room was cool when his feet hit the carpet. another burst of laughter broke through the door, one high and sharp, the other soft and trying to hush it. lila and star. he’d know their laughs anywhere. a small, tired smile tugged at his mouth before he could stop it, the sound cracking through the fog in his head just enough to pull him to his feet.

he stood, rubbing the back of his neck as he crossed to the door. the faint smell of syrup drifted through the wood. he paused with his hand on the knob, listening. lila’s excited whisper, star’s voice right after.

he turned the knob slowly, still half expecting the same dim hallway he’d stumbled through last night on his way to bed. instead, he stopped dead in the doorway. the walls were covered in streamers, most of them sagging where the tape had already started to give. a crooked banner stretched from one side of the hall to the other, barely hanging on, the words “happy birthday chris!” written in big, uneven letters that looked like they’d been redone more than once.

he blinked, dragging a hand through his hair that only made it stick up worse, brain still fighting through the fog of sleep. this was not here last night.

another burst of whispering came from the other room, followed by the sound of something scraping across the counter and then a sharp, muffled giggle.

“lila, shh,” star hissed, which only made lila giggle harder.

chris stood there in the doorway, shirtless, socked feet against the worn linoleum, sweatpants slung low on his hips, still trying to figure out when the hell they’d pulled this off. he glanced down the hall again, at the crooked tape job and the way one streamer had already fallen halfway off the wall.

chris reached up without thinking, pressing the loose streamer back against the wall with his thumb until the tape caught again. it hung even more crooked after he fixed it, but he didn’t bother trying to straighten it. the small smile that tugged at his mouth stayed as he stepped further into the hall, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he followed the trail of decorations.

the smell of syrup was stronger out here, mixed with the faint hint of coffee that meant star had been up longer than he realized. he rounded the corner and stopped all over again, breath catching for just a second.

the living room looked nothing like it had when he’d left it last night. the small coffee table that was usually buried under lila’s toys, his sketchbooks, and whatever random drinks star had left behind was completely cleared. in its place sat a small pile of gifts, wrapped so unevenly the paper was bunched in some spots and barely covering the corners in others. a single party hat rested on top of the stack, tilting slightly to one side.

his eyes moved past it and caught on the ceiling. more decorations, but different this time. hand-cut stars dangled down from pieces of yarn, some low enough that he could brush them with his fingertips if he reached. they swayed slightly with the draft from the hallway, edges jagged from dull scissors but careful in a way that made his chest ache.

from the kitchen, another set of shushes and a quick shuffle of feet broke the quiet. chris stood there barefoot in the doorway, hair sticking up, still half-asleep, staring at the mess they’d made just to make him smile.

he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand over his face again as he stepped off the carpet and onto the cool linoleum. something smelt faintly burnt and it made him huff a quiet laugh under his breath. he rounded the corner into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when it happened.

two small figures shot up from behind the counter, a jumble of limbs and voices.

“surprise!”

lila’s yell came first, high and bright, almost cracking from how hard she was trying. star’s followed right after, softer but just as full.

chris froze mid-step, blinking against the sudden noise as lila bolted around the counter, socks sliding on the floor as she ran straight into him. she wrapped her arms around his middle as far as they would go, face pressed into his bare stomach.

“happy birthday!” she said, words muffled against his skin.

star stayed where she was for a second, leaning on the counter with a small, tired grin that matched the one threatening to pull at his mouth. her hair was a little messy, sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, eyes warm even in the dim kitchen light.

chris looked down at the top of lila’s head, then back up at star, still trying to catch up to the fact that all of this was for him.

lila leaned back, her little hands still gripping his sides for a second before she let go completely. she stepped back with a grin too big for her face, clapping her hands together in quick, excited bursts.

“go!” she said, giving him a little shove toward the counter. “go see star!”

chris stumbled half a step forward, a little dazed as she kept pushing at his hip with both hands like she couldn’t get him there fast enough.

star straightened slightly, eyes flicking over him in a way that made something twist low in his chest. her grin softened when he stopped in front of her, lila bouncing on her toes just behind him, still clapping like she’d been waiting all morning for this exact moment.

“happy birthday,” star said quietly, the words simple but landing heavier than they had any right to.

chris didn’t answer, didn’t even try. he just reached out and pulled her into his chest, arms wrapping around her without hesitation. the hug said more than anything he could have managed that early, with his throat still tight and his head still full from yesterday. he squeezed her softly once. then again. then a third time, slower, something deeper tucked into the gesture that he couldn’t name but hoped she felt.

star let out a quiet breath against his skin, her hands resting at his sides like she didn’t know what else to do with them. chris bent his head down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her hair, letting his lips linger there for just a second before he pulled back.

he turned to lila then, making star shuffle awkwardly out of the way as he crouched slightly and scooped her up into his arms. she squealed, clinging to his shoulders immediately as he looked between the two of them.

“how the hell did you guys pull this off?” his voice was still low, still rough with sleep, but there was a real smile behind it now.

both star and lila glanced at each other for a beat before, at the exact same time, they shrugged.

“magicians don’t tell their secrets,” lila said matter-of-factly, her little chin lifting in mock seriousness.

star bit back a grin, nodding in agreement. “yeah, sorry. sworn to secrecy.”

chris looked between them again, shaking his head, arms tightening around lila’s small frame as the corner of his mouth tugged higher.

“thank you,” chris said finally, voice soft but steady as he looked between the two of them again. “seriously. both of you.”

lila pulled back a little in his arms, blinking up at him. “chris…”

he raised a brow, tilting his head. “what?”

she leaned in closer, cupping her little hand around his ear like she was about to tell him a state secret. her voice dropped to a whisper that wasn’t much of a whisper at all.

“uhm… i know it’s your birthday and i should be really nice to you today but…” she paused for dramatic effect, eyes darting toward star before finishing, “your breath kinda stinks.”

chris froze, blinking at her, and behind him a loud scoff slipped out of star before she slapped her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she tried to cover the smile breaking through.

the room went quiet.

and then chris barked out a laugh, loud and from his stomach, the kind that startled even him for a second. lila immediately broke into giggles, covering her mouth with both hands as he set her back down on the floor. star’s laugh followed close behind, muffled behind her palm until she finally let it out completely, the sound mixing with theirs.

chris crouched back down so he was eye level with lila, his grin still pulling at his mouth as her giggles kept spilling out. “you know, most people say happy birthday first before they start roasting me,” he said, reaching out to poke her side gently.

lila squirmed, swatting at his hand with another burst of laughter. “i did say happy birthday! i just…also said your breath stinks.”

“oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asked, tilting his head, trying to keep a straight face and failing.

she nodded, eyes wide but mischievous. “yup. you’re old now. you can take it.”

chris let out another laugh, shaking his head as he scooped her up off the floor without warning. she squealed, legs kicking as he tossed her up just enough to make her cling to his shoulders. “seven years old and already talking like you pay bills,” he said, hugging her tight against his chest. “you’re lucky it’s my birthday, bug, or you’d be in so much trouble.”

“nooo, i’m your favorite!” she shouted, laughing so hard her words came out uneven.

“debatable,” he teased, bouncing her once before setting her back down gently. she landed with a soft thump on her socks, immediately sticking her tongue out at him.

“you love me,” she said confidently, hands on her hips now.

“unfortunately,” he shot back, reaching out to mess up her hair until she squealed again, batting his hand away.

star leaned against the counter watching them, that same small smile tugging at her lips as lila darted behind her legs for cover. chris straightened up, shaking his head with a soft laugh, his chest loosening in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

chris lifted his hands in surrender, still laughing as he backed toward the hallway. “alright, alright. i hear you loud and clear. stink king is retiring to his castle before he kills the whole village every time he opens his mouth.”

lila let out another round of giggles, peeking out from behind star’s legs. “bye stink king!”

“yeah, yeah,” he said, pointing at her with mock seriousness as he stepped out of the kitchen. “don’t overthrow my kingdom while i’m gone.”

he padded down the hall, with a grin that refused to leave his face. he pushed the bathroom door open, flicked the light on, and shut it behind him with a soft click.

the grin only got bigger the second he looked up.

scribbled across the mirror in thick, uneven strokes of what looked like marker were two sets of handwriting. lila’s big, blocky letters in bright purple, and star’s smaller, neater ones weaving between them in black.

sorry your breath doesn’t stink! we lied. we just needed you to be gone for a minute to get ready. happy birthday!

there were a few extra hearts and a smiley face drawn in the corner, one lopsided enough that it could only be lila’s.

chris huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he grabbed his toothbrush anyway. “liars,” he muttered under his breath, still grinning as he turned on the faucet.

even as the bristles hit his teeth, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was some truth to lila’s words after all.

he spat into the sink, rinsed his mouth, and ran the faucet over his hands. the cold water shocked him awake a little more as he cupped it and dragged it through his hair, pushing it back until the worst of the bedhead was gone. he leaned closer to the mirror, smoothing it down with his fingers until it looked halfway decent, then wiped a stray drop off his jaw with the back of his hand.

when he was satisfied, he clicked the light off and stepped back into the hallway, the faint sound of whispers and shuffling guiding him toward the living room.

he didn’t know what he was expecting when he rounded the corner, but it wasn’t this.

the couches and the coffee table had been pushed to the side, leaving a pile of blankets spread across the floor in their place. bowls of fruit sat in the center, next to a large stack of blueberry pancakes that still let off faint curls of steam. bacon and eggs were piled high on mismatched plates, and a pitcher of what looked like apple juice sat beside them, condensation already slipping down the glass.

lila was right in the middle of it all, her stuffed bunny in her lap wearing a tiny party hat that matched the one perched slightly crooked on her own head. a couple more of her animals were propped up on the blankets like they were guests.

star sat next to her, legs crossed, her own party hat tilted forward. another one rested in her lap, the same design as the rest, held carefully in both hands as they both turned to look at him.

lila’s grin spread, cheeks already pink from excitement.

chris stepped further into the room, his eyes moving over the blankets, the food, the party hats, all of it. “what…what is this?”

lila bounced a little where she sat, her bunny jostling in her lap. “birthday breakfast!” she said proudly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

star shrugged lightly, the corners of her mouth tugging higher as she adjusted the hat in her lap. “we were gonna do it outside,” she said, glancing at lila with a small grin, “but someone made a really good point about the bugs.”

“i like when you call me bug but i don’t like bugs in my food,” lila added quickly, wrinkling her nose.

chris let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he took in the scene again, the warmth of it settling heavy in his chest like everything else seemed to be doing this morning.

chris lowered himself onto the blankets beside them, the smell of pancakes and bacon wrapping around him. star reached over before he could even settle, plucking the extra party hat from her lap and carefully setting it on his head.

“there,” she said, adjusting the strap under his chin with a teasing little grin. “now it’s official.”

lila scooted closer on her knees, eyes wide with excitement. “can i give it to you? it’s your birthday, so i should make your plate.”

chris chuckled, leaning back on one hand. “yeah, bug. go for it.”

she immediately reached for the pitcher of apple juice, but star’s hand shot out gently to stop her. “okay, you can do the food. i’ll do the juice. we’re not starting your brother’s birthday with a sticky floor.”

lila pouted for half a second before nodding, moving on to the stack of pancakes with serious concentration. chris stayed quiet, watching the two of them move around each other so naturally. star steadying the pitcher, lila carefully sliding pancakes onto a plate, her little tongue poking out in focus.

his chest ached, full of a million different things he couldn’t name all at once. he couldn’t remember the last time he woke up on his birthday and it had been about him from the second he opened his eyes. growing up, they were mostly spent listening to evelyn and james argue in the kitchen, voices muffled but sharp and full of venom. after james left and evelyn got sick, they blurred into hospital rooms and doctor appointments. he never minded, not really. he would’ve always chosen his mom’s health over another year on this earth being marked with cake and candles.

but sitting here, with a crooked party hat on his head and the two people he loved most in front of him, it felt nice. for just a moment, the day was his.

and he knew exactly who to thank for that. his eyes landed on star again, and he made a quiet promise to himself that she was going to know just how thankful he really was.

the rest of the morning settled into something soft and easy. lila piled his plate high with pancakes and bacon, proudly handing it over like she’d cooked every piece herself. between bites, she told him all about how the first few pancakes got burnt and how star almost set off the smoke alarm.

“it was one pancake,” star cut in, giving her a look over the rim of her cup.

“two,” lila corrected quickly, giggling when star sighed and muttered under her breath about the pan being too hot.

they talked about nothing and everything, lila’s newest obsession with a cartoon chris had never heard of, star telling a story about comet knocking over an entire glass of water at her place a few nights before, chris joking about how the stuffed animals were staring at him too hard while he ate. the sunlight crept in slow through the blinds, warming the edges of the blanket nest they’d made on the floor, and for the first time in a long time, chris felt like the day didn’t have to rush anywhere.

he was halfway through his second pancake when lila leaned forward on her knees, eyes wide and bouncing with excitement. “okay hurry up! you gotta eat fast so you can open your presents!”

chris laughed around the bite in his mouth, hand covering it as he looked at her. “ rushing me on my own birthday?”

“yes,” she said without hesitation, shoving the stuffed bunny into her lap like backup. “they’re gonna like explode if you don’t open them soon.”

star shook her head, smiling down at her plate. “you might wanna listen to her. sounds serious.”

chris set his fork down slowly, eyeing both of them with mock suspicion. “alright…”

he made quick work of the rest of his plate, licking a bit of syrup off his thumb as he leaned back against his hands. before he could even stand to help, lila jumped up, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him gently back down onto the blankets.

“nope! you stay right there,” she said firmly, already scooping up empty plates.

star stood with her, gathering cups and the pitcher, shaking her head when chris tried to reach for one. “don’t even think about it. birthday rule number one: you sit there and do nothing.”

he huffed out a laugh but stayed put, watching them move around the room together. star balancing the plates in one hand while steadying lila with the other as she carried the syrup bottle like it was made of glass. the quiet clinks of dishes and their soft voices drifted from the kitchen until they came back, lila’s small hands wrapped around the first wrapped box.

star crouched beside her, helping stack the rest of the gifts in front of him on the floor. “it’s not much,” she said, glancing up at him with a small shrug. “but we tried.”

chris shook his head immediately, eyes locking on hers. “star, you could’ve done nothing but laid in bed with me all day and that would’ve been more than enough.”

her mouth opened, then closed just as quick, a shy smile creeping into her cheeks before she tried to play it off with a scoff. “well, damn,” she said, “wish you would’ve said that before i went all out.”

chris laughed, as he reached out to pull the first box into his lap.

the wrapping paper was bunched and wrinkled in spots, the tape layered over itself in a few places where someone had clearly been determined to get it just right.

“i did that one all by myself,” lila said proudly, sitting up straighter as he tore into the paper.

“very professional bug.”

he opened the box and blinked when the silver locket caught the light. his fingers were careful when he clicked it open, a small picture of him and lila tucked inside. her missing-tooth grin was pressed against his cheek, frozen in time. chris swallowed once, glancing up briefly before setting the box carefully on the blanket beside him.

lila was already pushing the next one into his lap. “this one too!”

he ripped at the paper slower this time, the mess of tape giving way to a CD in a thin plastic case. the label was scrawled across the front in purple marker, for chris written in star’s neat handwriting.

“it’s a playlist,” star said from beside him, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “burned it onto a CD so you can play it in your car. it has all your favorites, deftones, radiohead, and taylor swifts entire discography.”

“taylor? yeah fucking right.”

chris let out a short huff through his nose, the corner of his mouth tugging before he moved to the next one.

the third was light, a small square that peeled back to reveal a framed Polaroid. it was the three of them piled on the couch, lila crammed in the middle, all of them caught mid-laugh.

“that’s like my most favorite picture,” lila said quickly, leaning over his knee to point at it. “bunny was there too but he’s cut off.”

he agreed and smiled faintly, thumb brushing over the edge of the frame before setting it aside.

the fourth box was wrapped cleaner, which told him star had stepped in this time. inside was a proper set of sketch supplies — new pencils, charcoal, and a thick pad of paper. his chest pulled tight as he ran his hand over the smooth cover, thumb brushing the edge of the pad. he stayed quiet for a second before glancing up at star, brow pulling slightly.

“where’d you even get the money for this?”

she hesitated for half a beat before giving a small, sheepish shrug. “i told you…i have those savings.”

chris blinked, sitting back a little. “you dipped into it for me?”

“well…yeah,” she said simply, meeting his eyes like it was obvious. “this is important. you’re important chris.”

it went quiet for a second. not awkward — just heavy in a way that said more than either of them could have pushed into words. chris held her gaze, something in his chest tightening all over again, and for a moment the rest of the room felt like it blurred out.

then lila clapped her hands together, breaking the quiet with a burst of excitement. “okay, last one!! be so careful opening it, i worked HARD.”

chris let out a soft laugh through his nose, giving her a small nod as he reached for the envelope she’d been holding onto.

he tore it open and unfolded the paper, eyes scanning the first line, a smile tugging at his mouth over her handwriting and the small doodles littered around the page. by the time he hit the middle, his chest felt too full. by the end, he had to blink hard just to see the words.

lila crawled into his lap without asking, her small arms wrapping around his neck. he held her there, the letter still clutched in his hand, and reached out with one arm to pull star closer until they were all pressed together on the blanket.

chris buried his face into the side of lila’s head for a moment, breathing her in, her little fingers fisting into the back of his neck like she was holding him together. the paper crinkled slightly in his other hand, his thumb brushing over the last line again even without looking.

“you’re my best present,” he said quietly against her hair, voice low and rough from the weight sitting in his chest.

lila leaned back just enough to look at him, her grin big and wobbly all at once. “better than pancakes?”

“way better than pancakes,” he said, managing a small smile before pressing his forehead to hers.

lila let out a giggle, the sound soft and shaky as her nose scrunched against his. “how about….even better than bacon?” she asked, like she couldn’t quite believe anything could outrank it.

“even better than bacon,” chris said, his voice steady this time, no hesitation behind it.

she seemed satisfied with that answer, her little arms tightening around his neck for one more squeeze before she finally slid off his lap and plopped back onto the blankets beside him.

he let out a slow breath, folding the letter carefully before setting it on top of the other gifts like it was made of glass. when he finally glanced over at star, her eyes were already on him, softer than he could handle.

“she worked really hard on that,” star said quietly, her voice careful, like she didn’t want to break the moment lingering between them.

chris held her gaze for a long second, his hand moved before his mouth did, reaching over to hook his fingers around hers and squeeze once.

“yeah,” he said, voice low, “i can tell, thank you for helping her.”

star’s lips twitched like she was fighting a smile, her fingers curling back into his without thinking. for a second it was quiet again, chris didn’t let go of her hand. his thumb brushed over her knuckles once before he leaned in, closing the small space between them. the first press of his mouth to hers was slow, careful, like he didn’t want to risk losing the moment. she tasted faintly of syrup and strawberries, they barely had a second to sink into it before a loud, exaggerated gag sounded right next to them.

“ewwwww!”

lila flopped onto her back in the middle of the blankets, covering her face with both hands and kicking her socks in the air.

star pulled back instantly, laughter breaking out of her as she turned to look at lila. chris let out a quiet groan, dragging a hand over his face even as the corner of his mouth tugged up.

“really, bug?” he asked, his voice rough but amused.

“you’ve seen us kiss like a thousand times,” chris said, shaking his head as he glanced down at lila still sprawled on the blankets.

she peeked at him through her fingers, lowering them just enough to grin. “yeah, i know, but…” she sat up quickly, her excitement bubbling over. “star hasn’t told you the best part about today yet!”

chris raised a brow, leaning back on his hands. “oh yeah? and what’s that?”

before lila could answer, star reached over to smooth down her hair, her own smile tugging slow and steady. “i promised we’d pick up mexican for lunch,” she said, catching his eyes. “and then head over to the hospital. you’ve got a date with your momma birthday boy”

something in his chest ached at that. he wanted to see her. god, he always wanted to see her. but the thought of walking into that room after yesterday? of seeing her strapped to those monitors again with the weight of what they’d said still hanging in the air, made something in him hesitate. it wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. it was that for once, just once, he wanted to hold onto this feeling a little longer.

the blankets on the floor, lila’s laugh still echoing in his head, star sitting close enough that her shoulder brushed his. it was the first time in years his birthday had felt like it belonged to him. no hospital walls, no arguments muffled through doors, no weight heavier than the morning itself. just…this.

and a small part of him felt guilty for even thinking it. like wanting to stay here, in this moment, was selfish when his mom was still waiting for him. when every second counted now. but sitting here with lila tugging on his sleeve and star watching him with those soft, steady eyes, he couldn’t help it. for once in his life, he wanted to breathe in something good and not let it slip away so fast.

he let out a slow breath, forcing a small smile as he glanced between the two of them. “that sounds good,” he said quietly, voice steady enough to pass for normal.

lila leaned her head against his arm, bunny squished between them, and star reached over to adjust one of the crooked party hats still hanging on the pile of blankets. the clock on the wall ticked softly in the background, reminding him they still had time before they needed to get ready. an hour, maybe two, where the world didn’t have to rush in just yet.

“you guys down to watch the sandlot?” he asked after a moment, his voice lighter this time.

lila pulled back instantly, her brows pulling together. “what’s the sandlot?”

chris’ mouth fell open a little as he turned to stare at her. “i never showed you the sandlot?”

she shook her head slowly, already grinning because of how dramatic his reaction was. “is it a show? is it boring?”

“boring?” he repeated, clutching his chest in mock offense as star bit back a laugh beside him. “bug, you’re about to get an education.”

chris dug through the small stack of DVDs they had shoved into the entertainment center, blowing dust off the case before popping it into the player. lila sprawled out on the blankets between him and star, bunny tucked under her arm as the movie started. for the first twenty minutes she was hooked, laughing loud every time the boys on screen did something ridiculous and whispering questions at chris about why they were scared of a dog. he answered every single one, his voice soft, occasionally leaning back against the couch with a small smile when she giggled at parts he loved as a kid.

about halfway through, though, her attention started to waver. she shifted in her spot, leaned back against star, then finally sat up with a sigh. “are they gonna play baseball the whole time?” she asked, tone almost scandalized. chris paused the movie and raised a brow at her, already knowing what was coming.

twenty minutes later, the DVD menu was forgotten as they set up chutes and ladders on the blanket pile. lila was deadly serious about it, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth every time she spun the dial. chris was just as serious, except every time she turned away, his piece magically jumped a square or two. by the time he hit the last ladder, lila was squinting at the board suspiciously. “you cheated,” she accused, pointing at him. chris held up both hands. “don’t hate the player, lila. hate the game.”

when the game was over and lila had begrudgingly accepted her defeat, they all moved around the tiny trailer together, getting ready to head to the hospital. star helped lila with her hair in the bathroom while chris changed his shirt, listening to the sound of their voices bouncing back and forth down the hall. by the time they picked up the food and pulled into the hospital parking lot, the morning felt far away and heavy in the best way.

but the second he walked into evelyn’s room, guilt sank into his stomach like a stone. she looked good. better than yesterday at least, color in her cheeks and her hair brushed back the way she liked it. her whole face lit up when she saw him. she didn’t just look happy to see him, she looked excited to celebrate him.

they ate together, lila telling every single detail about their morning while evelyn listened like it was the most important story she’d ever heard. at some point, she handed chris a gift bag with shaky hands, smiling sheepishly when he pulled out a knitted blanket. “was supposed to be a hat,” she admitted. “somewhere in the middle i…well, you can see where it went wrong.” chris laughed, holding it tight to his chest anyway, the uneven edges blurring in his eyes for a second before he kissed the top of her head.

the day slipped away faster than he wanted it to. one second the room was full of laughter and the smell of takeout, and the next the sun was dipping low outside the window. they said their goodbyes with promises to visit next week, lila hugging evelyn so tight her little arms trembled.

on the drive home, chris slid the CD into the player. the first chords hit and he laughed under his breath, glancing at star in the passenger seat. “you lied. there’s no taylor on this.” she smirked without looking at him. it was a perfect mix of his favorite bands and a few he instantly recognized as hers. even lila knew most of the words, her little voice singing from the backseat, earning her the title of “coolest seven-year-old ever” from star.

by the time they got home, it was lila who asked to finish the sandlot. chris suspected it was less about the movie and more about crawling into star’s side under a blanket, bunny tucked in between them. halfway through, her head started to nod, and by the credits she was out cold, her soft breaths mixing with the low hum of the TV. chris stood, sliding his arms under her and lifting her easily, pressing a kiss to her hair as he carried her to bed.

when he came back into the living room, the screen had gone dark and the blanket pile was empty. star was gone.

all the lights in the trailer were off, the soft hum of the TV the only thing breaking the quiet. his voice low when he called out, “star?”

for a second, nothing. then, faint but clear, “in here.”

he followed her voice into the kitchen, his socked feet silent against the floor. when he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in the doorway. star stood in the middle of the kitchen, her face glowing warm from the candles scattered across the small cake in her hands. the flickering light caught in her eyes as they met his.

“i feel bad lila fell asleep,” she said quietly, her voice carrying in the stillness. “but we woke up extra early to make this today.”

chris finally moved, slow steps bringing him closer until he was standing right in front of her. his eyes flicked down to the cake, then back to her, then back again before settling on her face. “the moon?” he asked, his voice rougher than he meant.

star’s smile tilted, small and knowing as she nodded. “well yeah. remember that night on the porch? when you told me i was every star in your sky, and i said you were the moon for me? you asked why and i told you, ‘cause even when it’s dark, you’re still there. you always find a way to be there.”

chris swallowed hard, his chest pulling tight as the memory hit him full force. his eyes didn’t leave hers when he spoke. “yeah. ’course i fuckin’ remember. i remember everything with you, star.”

chris’ eyes lingered on the cake for a moment longer, the dark frosting dusted with gold, little stars scattered across the top with a single crescent moon sitting off to the side. his lips twitched, a quiet laugh slipping out. “why is there four stars though?”

star snorted, shifting the cake slightly so the candles flickered with the movement. she pointed at each one carefully. “lila, me, evelyn, and comet.”

his brow shot up. “comet?”

she nodded, completely serious. “it was supposed to help lila’s case. you know, get you to finally agree to me bringing him over. she said if he had his own star on your cake, you couldn’t say no. something about him being family now or whatever.”

chris stared at her flatly, though the corner of his mouth tugged higher. “no.”

“you’re such a hater,” star said immediately, laughing under her breath as she shook her head. “comet is lovely.”

“i disagree,” chris shot back, deadpan, and she rolled her eyes playfully, the smile tugging at her lips making it impossible to hide.

“just blow them out before the wax ruins it,” she said, tilting the cake a little closer to him. “we didn’t wake up at five in the morning for nothing.”

“yes ma’am,” chris murmured, leaning in slightly, ready to blow the candles out when star’s voice stopped him.

“wait. you have to make a wish—a good one.”

he looked at her for a second,a small smile tugged at his mouth, something quiet sitting behind it. “a good one, huh?”

“yeah,” she said gently, holding the cake steady. “no half-ass wishes.”

he huffed out a soft laugh, then closed his eyes. for a moment, the kitchen went completely still. his chest rose and fell once as he let the thought sit there, simple and steady, before he leaned forward and blew the candles out in one soft breath.

when he opened his eyes again, the smoke curled between them. he reached out, fingers brushing against hers as he carefully took the cake from her hands.

“what did you wish for?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

he glanced at her, the faintest hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. “nothing i don’t already have.”

chris set the cake down on the counter carefully, reaching for a knife and two mismatched plates from the cupboard. the kitchen was still warm from the candles, the smell of sugar and frosting mixing with the faint hint of syrup that still lingered from breakfast. he cut into the cake slowly, sliding the first piece onto a plate before speaking.

“seriously, thank you,” he said, his voice low but certain as he set the plate in front of her. “for all of this.”

star shook her head immediately, almost brushing it off. “chris, it’s not a big deal. it’s your birthday. you deserve it.”

he let out a quiet laugh through his nose, shaking his head as he cut the next slice. “nah, i’m serious, baby.” he glanced up at her then, his expression soft but steady. “you’ve done so much more than you know for me. i’m forever grateful to have met your weird ass.”

that made her roll her eyes and shove his shoulder slightly.

“my life’s… i don’t know, this sounds stupid, but my life’s genuinely gotten better with you in it,” he continued, setting the knife down and leaning his hands on the counter. “and so has lila’s. and that means the world to me.”

for a second, she just looked at him, then she stepped closer, her fingers brushing his before she leaned in and kissed him.

when he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers, the words slipped out quiet but certain. “i love you, star.”

for a second, she didn’t move. her breath caught, just the smallest hitch against his mouth before she let out the faintest laugh, a shaky one. her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him just a little closer like she needed to feel every inch of him to make sure it was real.

“i think im schizophrenic” she whispered, her voice barely above the hum of the fridge.

chris tilted his head just enough to see her, his thumb brushing the side of her jaw as the corner of his mouth tugged into the smallest smile. “yeah maybe but i love you,” he said again.

her lips pressed to his before he could say anything else, deeper this time, like she was answering without words. when they broke apart, she stayed close, their noses brushing.

“i love you,” she said quietly, and chris swore he felt it everywhere — in his chest, his ribs, his lungs, every piece of him that had been holding tight for so long finally letting go.

he leaned in one more time, kissing her slow, letting himself breathe her in before he murmured against her mouth, “best birthday i’ve ever had.”

her lips brushed his again in a soft laugh, her hand sliding up the back of his neck. “let me make it even better,” she whispered, her voice low enough to make his chest tighten.

the cake was forgotten immediately. her fingers curled around his, tugging him gently out of the kitchen and down the short hall toward his room. he followed without a word, pulse pounding steady in his ears, his free hand brushing the small of her back as they crossed the doorway.

the door clicked shut behind them, leaving them in the soft dark of his room. she turned to face him, her hands finding his shoulders before sliding slowly down his chest, and he leaned in, kissing her again, deeper this time. everything from the day — the morning laughter, the weight of the hospital, the confession still hanging between them — blurred into the warmth of her mouth and the way her body pressed into his.

his hands found her waist, thumbs brushing the hem of her shirt as he backed them toward the bed, their breaths catching between kisses. he went to guide her down onto the mattress, but she pressed a hand gently to his chest, stopping him.

“wait,” she murmured against his mouth, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. “it’s about you, chris. it’s your day.”

he froze for half a second, his chest tightening at the way she said it. a quiet breath left him, softer than a laugh, his head dipping just enough to brush his nose against hers. “yeah?” he asked, voice low, almost careful.

“yeah,” she whispered back, and whatever part of him usually held on to control slipped right out from under him.

his shoulders dropped, his grip on her waist easing as he nodded once, slow. “okay,” he said quietly, letting himself sink into the words, into her hands, into the idea of letting someone else take care of him for once.

her hands slid higher on his chest, gentle but sure as she gave the faintest push. she pushed him back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as she climbed over him, settling her knees on either side of his hips. the faint creak of the frame filled the quiet for a second before she leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to his mouth and mumbling a shy little “hi” against his lips. it earned her a low chuckle, his hand instinctively sliding up her thigh, his thumb brushing the soft skin there.

her mouth moved to his neck, soft pecks turning into slow sucks and small bites just under his jaw. his hand slid higher, curling around her hip, the pads of his fingers digging in lightly. it was muscle memory more than anything, the way he always touched her without thinking, but she reached back blindly, her fingers wrapping around his wrist and moving it off her.

“no,” she murmured, her voice quiet but steady against his skin.

his breath hitched slightly at the tone, his hand dropping to the blanket as he let her keep working at his neck.

the second time, it was when her fingers slipped under the waistband of his sweats, tugging them low enough to brush the edge of his boxers. his stomach tightened under her touch, and he reached again, his palm sliding over her thigh to her waist. before he could even curl his fingers, she caught his hand again, firmer this time, pressing it flat to the mattress.

“i said no,” she whispered, kissing the hollow of his throat like a reward and a warning all at once.

a low groan broke out of him, his head tipping back slightly, his chest rising heavier now.

the third time, it wasn’t even conscious — when she finally stripped him bare, his cock hard and flushed against his stomach, his hand twitched like it wanted to reach for her again. before he could, she sat back on his thighs, both her hands coming down to pin his wrists to the bed on either side of his head.

“chris,” she said, soft but with an edge of something else, something that made his stomach clench. “stop trying to touch me. this isn’t about me.”

his lips parted around a quiet breath, something low and broken caught in his throat. “fuck,” he muttered, the word barely audible, his fingers curling against the sheets.

“that’s better,” she said simply, letting go of one wrist to wrap her hand around him.

the sound that left him at the first stroke was deep and rough, his head falling back against the pillow. she kept her pace slow, her thumb swiping across the head, smearing the wetness there until his hips lifted just slightly off the bed before he caught himself. the slick sounds filling the quiet between them as she leaned in, her lips brushing his jaw with every word.

“look at you,” she murmured, her voice low, soft but edged with something that made his chest tighten. “already getting kinda greedy with it, baby.”

chris let out a quiet breath, the sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “greedy, huh?” his voice was rough, almost like it didn’t know which way to fall. “you can’t—fuck—you can’t say shit like that and expect me to just…” his words broke off into a shaky exhale when her thumb pressed slow over the head, smearing him over her palm.

her lips curved, not quite a smile, more like satisfaction. “expect you to what?” she asked softly, her hand never slowing.

his hips twitched under her grip, his fingers flexing against the sheets. “expect me to just sit here,” he muttered, his hand sliding instinctively up her thigh, fingers curling toward her hip.

she caught his wrist mid-motion, fingers curling firm around it before setting it back beside him. “yeah,” she said quietly, her tone steady in a way that made his breath catch. “that’s exactly what i expect.”

he swallowed, his jaw working like he wanted to argue, but the way her hand twisted on the next stroke punched the words right out of his chest. his eyes fluttered shut for half a second before snapping open again to meet hers.

“fuck,” he breathed, his voice low. “you’re really not gonna let me touch you?”

“not tonight,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth like it was punctuation. “tonight’s not about me.”

he huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh if it weren’t so shaky. “you’re—” his words cut off when she squeezed just a little tighter, his head tipping back against the pillow with a low groan. “jesus christ.”

when she slid lower on the bed, her mouth kissing a slow line down his stomach, his hand found her hair out of pure instinct, again. before he even got a full grip, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist again, sharper this time, pushing it back to the bed without a word.

his chest rose heavy, a quiet, breathless laugh slipping out. “okay,” he muttered, the edge of something warm behind it. “okay, i get it.”

“do you?” she asked, her lips brushing the soft skin just below his hip as she looked up at him.

“i—” his words cut off again when her tongue dragged along the underside of his cock, a shudder running straight up his spine. “fuck, star,” he groaned, his hands fisting in the sheets just to keep from trying again.

at this point it was just muscle memory. the second her mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, his hips jerked and both hands flew to her hair, desperate to feel her, to ground himself in the way her tongue moved slow and wet over him.

she broke off with a sharp, wet pop, her hand wrapping around the base as she glared up at him. in one smooth motion, she grabbed both his wrists and slammed them down against the mattress, pinning him there with a grip that made his stomach clench.

“chris.” her voice was low, steady, and something about it went straight through him. “try that shit one more time, and i’m done. you hear me?”

his eyes were wide, his mouth parted around a shaky breath. for a second, silence stretched between them, then he let out a broken, breathless laugh. “i don’t know what the fuck got into you tonight,” he muttered, voice rough and hoarse, “but i kinda love it.”

she smirked, a quick flash of teeth before she sank back down, taking him deep enough that the rest of his words dissolved into a low, wrecked groan. his head tipped back against the pillow, his throat working around a sound that never fully made it out.

“oh my fucking god,” he rasped when she pulled back just to spit, the slick sound of it hitting his skin making his cock twitch in her hand before she swallowed him again, messy and wet.

“star,” he choked out, his voice breaking halfway through her name, “holy shit, you’re…” his hands twisted in the sheets, knuckles white where she had him pinned. “you’re fucking ruining me.”

she hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. spit was pooling at the corner of her mouth now, dripping down to his stomach as she twisted her wrist in time with every slow drag of her tongue.

“look at me,” she said when she pulled off, her voice sharp enough to cut through the fog in his head. his eyes snapped open, glassy and blown wide, locking on hers instantly.

“don’t look away,” she murmured before sinking back down, swallowing him until her nose brushed his stomach.

“sorry— shit,” he groaned, his voice breaking open in a way that sounded almost pained. “fuck, fuck, i’m—” his breath caught when she pulled back just to slap the head against her tongue, spit connecting in a slick string. “you’re… you’re so fucking good at that.”

she smiled against him, the kind that wasn’t playful but knowing, before swallowing him again until his stomach tightened under her hands.

when he finally came, it was quiet but wrecked, a sound punched out of him from somewhere deep in his chest as his hips jerked against the bed despite himself. she swallowed everything, licking him clean as his breath came in ragged, uneven pulls.

he barely had time to come down before she was crawling back up his body, kissing him slow, letting him taste himself on her tongue.

“you okay?” she murmured against his mouth.

he huffed out a laugh, still half-breathless. “what the fuck was that?”

“told you,” she said softly, kissing his jaw as she reached between them to line him up again. “it’s about you tonight.”

when she sank down on him, both of them let out matching, broken sounds. his hands flew to her hips on instinct, gripping tight, and the sharp crack of her palm against the back of his hand echoed in the room.

his eyes snapped up to hers, chest heaving.

“you move me again,” she said quietly, her voice firm enough to make his cock twitch inside her, “and i’m stopping. don’t test me.”

his fingers twitched like they didn’t know what to do with themselves, the need to hold her almost overwhelming, muscle memory begging him to ground himself in her skin. he caught himself at the last second, dragging his hands up instead until they laced together behind his head, elbows digging into the pillow like it was the only way to keep from breaking her rule. his chest rose hard under her, a quiet, desperate sound slipping past his lips.

“please,” he rasped, the word almost a breath, raw and shaky. “don’t—m’sorry, i’m not—just don’t stop.”

her hips rolled slow and deep, the drag of him inside her making her hum low in her throat. “then don’t move me,” she said, calm in a way that had his stomach pulling tight.

his jaw clenched, his fingers fisting in his own hair now just to have something to hold onto. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough.

her nails dragged lightly down his chest as she shifted her hips, the angle making a sharp gasp punch out of her before she could stop it. her head dipped for a second, forehead brushing his collarbone as she let the words fall without thinking.

“you’re so fucking deep,” she whispered, her voice shaky at first, more like a confession than anything else.

his breath stuttered hard under her, his abs tightening like the words hit somewhere deep.

she swallowed, rolling her hips slow again, feeling the stretch all the way in her stomach. “i can feel every…fuck… every inch of you, chris.” the way his head tipped back at that, the low groan that slipped out of his throat, it pulled something loose in her chest. her lips parted around a shaky little laugh, softer this time, like she couldn’t quite believe the sound she’d just pulled from him.

his head snapped forward again, eyes blown and glassy as they locked on her, chest heaving under the weight of her words. “say it again,” he rasped, voice raw, desperate in a way that made her pulse skip.

her hips rocked down once more, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she breathed it against his mouth. “can feel all of you, baby. every fucking inch.”

his hips twitched involuntarily, the muscles in his thighs tightening beneath her as a low, broken sound punched out of him. “fuck, star,” he groaned, his voice low now, strained like it was being dragged out of his chest.

she bit her lip, her own voice shaky but steadier this time, emboldened by the way his face twisted under her. “you’re stretching me so good,” she whispered, her words trembling but filthy. “i can feel you in my belly.”

his mouth fell open, a raw curse spilling out as his hands twitched behind his head like they were dying to grab her. “oh my god,” he hissed, hips flexing helplessly under her weight, “you’re gonna fucking break me in half talkin’ like that.”

her laugh was breathless, but the sound only made him twitch inside her. his eyes locked on hers, dark and heavy. “you like that, huh?” he rasped, his voice rougher now, cutting through the thick air between them. “you like sittin’ on my cock talkin’ all nasty like that?”

her breath hitched, her nails dragging over his chest as she rolled her hips slow. “yeah,” she murmured, the admission soft but filthy. “love how you feel inside me. fuck—you’re so fucking big, chris.”

he groaned low, his head tipping back for half a second before snapping forward again, locking on her face. “you’re so fucking wet for me,” he ground out, his voice strained, every word pushed through clenched teeth. “you hear that? fuckin’ dripping all over me. shit—every time you move, it’s like you’re begging me to cum inside you.”

her lips parted around a shaky moan, her hips grinding down harder as his words sank into her skin. “maybe i am,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “maybe i want you to fill me up. make a fucking mess out of me.”

his jaw dropped, a loud, broken sound punching out of his chest as his thighs flexed under her. “fuck, star—say it again. say that shit again,” he begged, his voice cracking straight through the middle.

she leaned in, her lips brushing his ear, and whispered, “want you to cum in me.”

his hips jerked without thinking, a harsh groan tearing out of him as his hands fisted so hard in his own hair it almost hurt. his chest was heaving, every muscle in his body pulled tight like a live wire under her.

“star,” he rasped, his voice cracking, “fuck—please. please let me touch you. let me—fuck, let me take over, just for a second. i need to feel you.”

her hips rolled slowly, making his breath stutter hard in his chest. “no,” she whispered, her tone soft but firm enough to make his head fall back against the pillow.

“why,” he groaned, his voice breaking into something that almost sounded like a laugh, strained and desperate. “you’re fuckin’ killin’ me. you don’t get it—I need to flip you over, fuck you so hard you forget your own name. please.”

she leaned down, her lips brushing his jaw as she pushed herself all the way down on him, the drag making both of them gasp. “you think you’re in any position to beg me for control right now?” she murmured, her voice shaking only from the way he was hitting deep inside her.

his eyes squeezed shut for a second, his knuckles white where they twisted in his own hair. “i’m begging,” he said, his voice raw now, every bit of pride stripped clean. “please, baby. just let me fuck you. let me show you how good you feel. fuck—please.”

her nails scraped down his chest, slow and sharp, making his breath hitch. “you’re showing me just fine,” she whispered, rocking her hips again.

his mouth dropped open around a groan, his head tipping forward to meet her eyes. “you’re so fucking mean,” he muttered, his voice breaking apart. “and i’ve never wanted you more in my life.”

she let out a breathless laugh against his mouth, her hips grinding down again just to watch the way his face twisted. “mean?” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with heat. “you’re the one trying to fuck up my pace.”

“’cause you’re killing me,” he groaned, his voice rough, desperate. “sitting on me all slow like this, talking all that shit—fuck, star, i can’t take it. please.”

she rolled her hips again, slower this time, dragging him so deep it had both of them gasping. “you can take it,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. “look at you. you’re perfect like this. letting me use you.”

another guttural sound ripped out of his chest, his hands twitching so hard behind his head it looked painful. “fuck—baby, please. please let me grab you. let me touch you. i’m gonna lose my fucking mind if i can’t.”

she sat back just slightly, her fingers curling into his chest, nails dragging down over his ribs. “you lose it, i’ll stop,” she said quietly, the warning so calm it had his cock twitching inside her. “you wanna risk that?”

“fuck!” the word tore out of him, strained and raw. his head tipped back into the pillow, his voice breaking into a shaky laugh. “you’re gonna make me cry on my own birthday.”

her hips stilled for just a second, her palms sliding up his chest until they framed his jaw, her thumb brushing over the flushed skin there like she was considering it. “baby…” she murmured, soft in a way that almost sounded sympathetic.

his eyes snapped open, wide and glassy as they locked onto hers. “what?” he asked, voice wrecked, like he was hanging on every word.

she tilted her head, her mouth curving into the faintest smirk as she rocked down slow, making him gasp. “you really want it that bad you’d cry for it?” she asked quietly, her tone dripping with faux sympathy.

a broken groan ripped out of his chest, his knuckles going white where they twisted into his own hair. “fuck, i’ll do whatever you want. you want me to cry, i’ll cry, just—please, star, let me fucking have you.”

she leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “yeah? you want it that bad?” another slow roll of her hips had him swearing under his breath, his voice hoarse.

“yes,” he hissed, the word coming out like it hurt to say. “yes, baby. please. let me fucking take you apart. let me make you cum on my cock, please.”

she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her fingers curling against his jaw. “you think you’ve earned it?” she murmured, soft and low, dragging the words out like she was testing him.

he nodded frantically, his voice cracking in the middle of it. “fuck—yes. yes, i’ve earned it. i’ve been good. i’ve been so fucking good for you.”

she hummed, pretending to consider it, her thumb brushing his bottom lip as her hips ground down slow again. “hm. maybe.” she let the word hang there, soft and cruel, before leaning in close enough that her lips brushed his. “show me how bad you want it, chris.”

the second the words left her mouth, his restraint shattered. his hands shot from behind his head to her back, dragging her down until her chest was pressed flush against his, his breath hot against her neck as his arms locked tight around her.

“fuck—” his voice was a low, broken growl right in her ear before his hips snapped up, hard and fast, slamming into her so deep it punched a gasp straight out of her throat.

“chris—” her protest dissolved into a choked moan when he did it again, his grip on her back desperate, keeping her flush to him as he fucked up into her, each thrust sharp and unrelenting.

“you wanted me to show you,” he panted, his voice rough and wrecked against her skin. “this is me fuckin’ showing you, star. this is how bad i want you.”

her nails dug into his shoulders, her head tipping back as a string of breathy curses tumbled out of her. every thrust hit so deep it made her see stars, her walls fluttering hard around him as she clung to his shoulders.

“fuck—you feel that?” he gritted, his teeth grazing her jaw as he kept driving up into her, the wet sound of them filling the room. “feel how tight you’re squeezing me right now? you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

“chris—” she gasped, her voice breaking into a moan when he angled his hips just right, the head of his cock brushing so deep inside her she almost sobbed.

“say it,” he muttered, his tone wrecked but demanding as his pace got even rougher. “say you want it. say you fucking need it.”

“i need it—fuck, i need it,” she cried out, her voice cracking as her nails dragged down his back.

“yeah?” his words were a low growl, his thrusts snapping up so hard it had her clinging to him like he’d fuck her straight through the mattress. “then take it, baby.”

his voice was wrecked, strained to the point it sounded like a promise more than anything else.

before she could even answer, his grip shifted, his arms tightening around her as he rolled them in one smooth, desperate motion. her back hit the mattress with a soft thud, his cock slipping free in the scramble, slick and wet against her thigh. both of them let out a matching frustrated sound at the loss.

“fuck,” chris muttered, his voice low and rough, his forehead pressed to hers for half a second as his chest heaved. “flip.”

she blinked up at him, still trying to catch her breath. “chris—”

“face down,” he cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument, his hand sliding over her hip with a grip that made her legs weak. “ass up. you know it’s my favorite.”

heat shot straight through her stomach at the way he said it, direct and filthy. she rolled onto her stomach, pushing up onto shaky arms, her ass arching into the air as the cool air hit the wetness between her thighs.

“fuck,” he groaned when he saw her like that, his hands dragging over the curve of her hips before spreading her open with a grip that was almost reverent. “you’re so fucking perfect.”

she turned her head just enough to glance back at him, her breath catching when she saw the way his chest rose and fell, his jaw tight like he was holding on by a thread.

“chris,” she whined, pushing back against him slightly, the need in her voice making his cock twitch in his hand.

instead of giving her what she wanted, he let out a low, dark laugh, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh of her hip. “nah,” he muttered, his tone a mix of breathless and smug. “this is what you get.”

before she could even process it, he lowered himself, spreading her open wider as his mouth found her soaked pussy from behind. the first slow drag of his tongue up her slit had her choking out a moan, her arms nearly giving out under her.

“fuck!” she gasped, her forehead dropping to the mattress as his tongue circled her clit before dipping back down, fucking into her with long, deep strokes that made her legs shake.

he hummed low against her, the sound vibrating right through her as his hands gripped her ass, holding her steady when her hips bucked back against his face.

“chris—oh my god—” her voice broke into a sharp cry when he sucked her clit between his lips, the obscene wet sounds filling the room as he pulled every bit of her slick onto his tongue.

he pulled back just enough to murmur, his voice low and filthy against her skin, “taste so fucking sweet back here, baby. could eat this pussy all night.”

her fingers clawed at the sheets, a desperate moan ripping out of her. “no please—please fuck me, chris.”

he didn’t say a word, just pulled back, his hands sliding down her hips as he rose up again. the sudden loss of his mouth had her whining, but it was cut off by the sharp sting of his palm connecting with her ass in one quick, firm slap.

she gasped, her hips jerking forward instinctively, and then he was there — lining himself up and pushing in slow, every inch of his cock stretching her open until he was buried to the hilt.

a low groan fell out of his mouth, his fingers digging into her hips like he was anchoring himself there. “fuck,” he breathed, his voice low and wrecked, “you feel that? you feel how tight you are around me right now?”

her forehead pressed into the mattress, a broken moan slipping out as her walls fluttered helplessly around him. “y-yeah,” she choked, her voice cracking.

he leaned forward, his chest brushing her back as he bottomed out again, slower this time, savoring the drag. “good,” he muttered against her ear, his breath hot on her skin. “because this—” his hips pulled back before snapping forward hard enough to make her cry out, “—this is really about me now.”

he stayed there for a second, buried so deep it made her toes curl, his breath coming hot and uneven against the side of her neck. one of his hands slid up her spine, slow and steady, until it wrapped around the back of her neck, not squeezing, just holding her there as he rolled his hips again, slower this time but just as deep.

“every time i push in, you’re gripping me like you don’t wanna let me go.”

a choked sound tumbled out of her, her fingers twisting into the sheets, knuckles going white as she nodded against the mattress. “chris—”

“say it,” he cut in, his tone a little rougher this time, his hips snapping forward hard enough to have her crying out. “say you can feel me. all of me.”

her voice broke as it left her, breathless and filthy, “i can feel you—fuck—you’re so deep, chris, you’re everywhere.”

her words hit him like gasoline to fire. his hips snapped forward again, the wet sound of him driving into her filling the room, each thrust harder than the last. the mattress creaked under the rhythm, her knees sliding against the sheets as he pushed her further into them with every movement.

his fingers dug into her hips, holding her right where he wanted her while he fucked into her with sharp, deliberate strokes. every drag of his cock pulled a new sound out of her, breathy gasps and broken moans mixing with the slap of skin on skin. slick coated the insides of her thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with every thrust.

her body arched into it without thought, back bowing as her hands clawed at the mattress. he leaned over her again, his chest pressed to her back as his pace shifted, slower but so deep it made her legs shake. her walls fluttered around him helplessly, clenching tight as he bottomed out and held there, savoring the way she squeezed around him.

his breath was hot against her shoulder, ragged and uneven, his lips brushing her skin as he pulled out almost completely before slamming back in. she cried out, her nails dragging across the sheets as her head dropped between her arms.

the room smelled like sweat and sex, heavy and thick in the air. every thrust pushed a low, wet squelch from between her thighs, the mess of her dripping down onto his stomach as he fucked her harder, deeper, until the bedframe knocked against the wall.

her legs trembled, her whole body jolting with each snap of his hips. he kept her right there, open and pliant beneath him, every thrust carving into her until her voice was nothing but broken gasps and strangled moans.

when her head tipped back and a loud, desperate cry ripped out of her, his hand slid up her spine fast, fingers curling firmly around the back of her neck to keep her pressed into the mattress. his hips didn’t falter, but his mouth brushed her ear, his voice low and rough.

“you gotta be quiet,” he panted, his words hot against her skin, “or i’ll stop.”

the warning hit her like a jolt, her hands twisting into the sheets as she bit back another moan, the sound catching in her throat. he felt the way she tried to hold it in, the muffled whimper that broke through anyway, and a low groan spilled out of him.

“that’s it,” he muttered, his thrusts slowing just enough to grind deep, the head of his cock hitting that spot that made her whole body shudder.

she buried her face in the mattress, her nails dragging down over the sheets as another choked sound escaped her, this one softer but no less desperate. the control it took to hold it back had her walls clenching around him so tight he cursed under his breath, his grip on her hips bruising as he drove in deep again.

the pace turned heavy, deep strokes that made the bed rock beneath them, his chest slick with sweat as it brushed her back every time he leaned in. her thighs were shaking, the sheets damp beneath her knees where slick and sweat mixed. every time he pulled out, the mess of her clung to him, coating his cock before he sank right back into it, wet sounds filling the room over the soft thud of the headboard against the wall.

he slid one hand from her hip up to her lower back, pressing down just enough to arch her deeper for him. the new angle had both of them gasping, her whole body going tight as he bottomed out, the head of his cock hitting so deep she swore she felt it in her stomach again.

a broken whimper slipped out despite her biting it back, and his grip tightened on her hip, his thrusts never faltering. “fuck,” he gritted, his voice low and raw, “you keep squeezing me like that and i’m not gonna last.”

her answer was a shaky, muffled plea into the mattress, her fingers twisting into the sheets as she tried to push back against him, meeting every thrust with desperate, uneven rolls of her hips. the sound of it — skin, breath, the wet drag of him inside her — filled the room until it felt like the air itself was trembling with them.

the pressure coiled sharp and tight in her stomach, every deep thrust making her shake harder beneath him. her voice cracked as the words tumbled out, muffled against the mattress but still desperate, “chris—inside, please, want it inside—”

he swore loud and broken, his hips stuttering like her plea had cut straight through every last bit of control he had. “fuck—baby, don’t—” his words hitched into a groan as he buried himself to the hilt, his grip on her hips bruising as he spilled into her in hot, thick pulses.

her walls fluttered around him, milking every drop, and she cried out his name like it was the only word she knew, the sound ragged and breathless as she came hard around him, her thighs trembling violently.

he didn’t pull out. his chest pressed to her slick back, his hips rolling slow, pushing himself deeper, fucking his cum into her until it spilled messy down her thighs. his forehead dropped to the space between her shoulder blades, his breath hot and shaky on her skin.

“i love you,” he muttered against her, the words low and rough, almost like a secret. his hands smoothed over her sides, gentler now as his hips gave one last soft grind before stilling completely. “fuck, star… i love you so much.”

authors note: bellooooooo ^.^

287 notes · View notes

darksturnz · 16 days ago

Text

────── ⋮ ⌗ LET ME . . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut-heavy plot, artist!chris x star!reader, slow-ish tension build?, oral (f receiving), fingering, + more . . . WC: 4.6k

chris had been insufferable ever since he got the piercing. hands and knees begging. kissing up her thighs while whining into her skin. throwing himself around like he was being punished for something. and every time he asked, she told him no.

it wasn’t about teasing him, she just wasn’t trying to deal with a swollen, infected lip over something that could wait a few weeks. no matter how dramatic he got about it. no matter how many times he said it didn’t hurt anymore, how many times he cupped her face with both hands and whispered how much he missed her.

“please just let me show you,” he’d say. “it’s fine, star. i swear. i’ve been rinsing it. i already googled everything. it’s literally not even red anymore.”

she’d roll her eyes, push his hand off her thigh, pretend she wasn’t clenching her legs under the blanket. the worst part for the both of them was that he knew. he could see it every time. the way her eyes flicked down to his mouth. the way her breath hitched when he licked his lips. the way her fingers twitched when he sucked on the hoop during an argument just to piss her off. he wanted her to give in, and he wouldn’t stop until she did.

and she was doing really good for the most part but he was wearing her down.

she was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, fresh out of the shower, one of his shirts hanging low over her thighs and the sleeves pushed halfway up her arms. her hair was still damp, strands sticking to the back of her neck, a little curl clinging to her cheek while she leaned over the sink brushing her teeth. the mirror was fogged in the corners but she hadn’t bothered to wipe it completely. she was too focused on the mint burning her tongue and the sting of warm skin meeting cooler air.

she heard him come in but didn’t say anything, just glanced up through the mirror, toothbrush still in her mouth. he was standing in the doorway with that same look he’d been giving her for weeks now — the one that landed somewhere between starved and guilty, like he wanted to ask for something and already knew he shouldn’t. she watched him while he stared at her legs, then her ass, then slowly dragged his gaze back up to her face.

her eyes dropped to his mouth before she could stop herself and there it was, that little twitch of his fingers, fidgeting with the ring again. she shook her head slowly and spit the toothpaste into the sink. rinsed, wiped her face with the towel slung over the counter, then pushed her hair back with both hands. she was trying to cool herself down, but it wasn’t working. not with him still looking at her like that.

she turned toward him slowly, leaned back against the counter with her arms still raised, fingers threaded through her hair like she couldn’t figure out what to do with them. her legs crossed at the ankles, skin still damp, lips a little tingly from brushing too hard. she didn’t say anything — just looked at him through her lashes, waiting to see who would speak first.

chris stepped in closer, not too close but enough that she had to tilt her head a little to keep her eyes on his. his hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck, the tension in his jaw completely giving him away. his other hand hovered for a second before settling on her waist, thumb rubbing slow over the soft fabric.

“bugs knocked out cold on the couch,” he mumbled, eyes dropping to her mouth for half a second before flicking back up.

star sighed, finally letting her arms fall from her head, hands brushing against her thighs as she shifted her weight against the counter. “finally,” she said under her breath, a small smile tugging at her lips. “can’t believe she had us up at five in the morning. i don’t remember having that much energy as a seven year old.”

chris huffed out a laugh, his gaze dropped again, lingered this time, not just on her mouth but lower, taking in the way her bare legs brushed together when she moved.

“you tired?” he asked, soft, almost testing her.

she shook her head, “not really.”

his hands slid a little lower, fingertips resting on the backs of her thighs like he was waiting for her to pull away but she didn’t. she just looked at him, still quiet and he swore his heart was in his throat.

“you hungry?”

she raised a brow, amused, brushing her thumb along the side of her nose. “no. just brushed my teeth.”

he nodded, like he expected that answer, then leaned in a little more, the warmth of his breath brushing her collarbone. “thirsty?”

she scoffed, lips twitching as she tilted her head. “what are you getting at, chris?”

he shrugged with a crooked smile, all sheepish and boyish. “nothin’. just checkin’.”

she gave him a look, one that usually came with a sigh before she gave into whatever he was asking for. and that’s exactly what happened. she rolled her eyes, let her hands slide up the sides of his ribs, then said, “you’re so annoying,” but it came out quieter than she meant it to.

he grinned, took her hand, and tugged her toward the hallway, gentle but insistent. she followed without arguing, feet light on the floor, the house was dim and warm around them. as they passed the living room, she caught sight of lila knocked out on the couch, one arm thrown above her head, the other hugging bunny to her chest. bluey was still playing on the tv, volume low, colors flickering across the ceiling.

star smiled at the sight and let chris lead her past it and down the hall, her fingers tightening just slightly in his. when they stepped into his room, he let go of her hand to shut the door behind them, the click of it settling into place sending a little flutter through her chest. she made her way toward the bed without looking back, pulling the shirt down at the hem to cover her lack of bottoms as she climbed onto the mattress, knees sinking into the familiar dip where she always slept. chris followed behind her quietly before smacking the curve of her ass as she started to crawl forward.

she paused mid movement, glancing back over her shoulder with a flat look. “really?”

he just smiled, all teeth and no apology, before moving to stand at the edge of the bed, watching her as she settled back against the headboard. her legs were bent loosely, one knee up, arms draped over her stomach. she stared at him, silent, taking him in.

chris climbed onto the mattress slowly, hands pressed into the sheets on either side of her legs. he nudged one of her knees open with his shoulder, the other with his hand, forcing her thighs to part just enough for him to slot himself in between, laying there with his chin resting right on her stomach.

her hands found his hair like muscle memory. slow and gentle at first, fingers slipping into the curls at the back of his head, nails grazing against his scalp just lightly enough to make him sigh into her skin. his eyes fluttered closed, his lips brushing against the fabric of her shirt, and for a second he didn’t move at all.

she could feel the warmth of his breath through the cotton, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he relaxed into her. she scratched a little deeper, dragging her nails through his hair until his arms curled tighter around her waist and he let out the softest, most pathetic noise into her stomach. it was low and breathy, not even really a sound, more like something he let slip without meaning to, and she felt it in her clit before her brain even registered it. her thighs flexed slightly around his ribs, just for a second, enough for him to notice but not enough to acknowledge it out loud.

she cleared her throat, played it off, let her fingers slide lazily through the curls near the crown of his head.

“you ever get that new… what was it… throttle position sensor?” she asked, voice slow like she wasn’t entirely sure if she was remembering it right. “you said yours was sticking.”

he blinked against her shirt, paused for a second, then pulled his head back just enough to look at her, brows drawn. “what?”

she raised an eyebrow. “the sensor thingy. on the—whatever—the intake something.”

he just stared at her for a second, jaw slack, then shook his head with a little scoff. “you actually pay attention when i talk about car shit?”

she gasped and shoved his head lightly with both hands. “of course i do.”

“you always act like you’re about to die of boredom anytime i start talkin’ about my car.”

“yeah,” she smiled, “but i still listen.”

he grinned, all smug and sweet, eyes low as he let his head rest back on her stomach, nuzzling into her like he’d just been handed a blanket and a warm place to sleep. his lips brushed against the cotton again, and his hands started moving without him thinking, smoothing up the outside of her thighs and back down again.

“still, can’t believe you remembered that,” he murmured, fingers pausing just above her knee before trailing back up slowly. “the throttle sensor thingy.”

she shrugged, barely, like it wasn’t a big deal. “you were pissed about it for like three days. kinda hard to forget.”

he smiled, eyes flicking up toward her again. “i can never tell if you’re actually listening when i talk about that stuff. you zone out, your face does this… thing.”

she blinked at him, already offended. “what thing?”

he lifted his head just slightly, still resting most of his weight on her stomach, and pulled the most exaggerated blank expression he could manage — eyes half lidded, mouth parted, lips slack like he’d just forgotten how to function. he blinked once, slow like his brain had completely powered down.

“you look like this,” he said, voice flat to match the look on his face. “every time. like i’m giving a lecture in a language you don’t speak.”

she let out a sharp laugh, palm flying to the top of his head to shove him back down. “you’re such an asshole.”

he grinned into the fabric of her shirt, shoulders shaking. “but it’s true.”

“you’re insane if you think that’s what my face looks like.”

“that’s exactly what it looks like,” he mumbled, kissing just beneath her ribs. “you did it when i talked about the ac last week. and when i said the brake pads were squeaking. and when i told you i needed a new belt—”

“okay, fine,” she cut in, laughing now, “you talk about your car too much, what do you want from me?”

“i want you to let me eat you out.”

his voice had softened again, quieter this time, like the teasing was over and he meant it more than ever now.

“please.”

her breath caught, just for a second, enough to make her chest stutter under his cheek. her fingers twitched in his hair.

“i al—”

“jus’ miss you so bad, baby,” he murmured, cutting her off before she could finish the sentence. “s’not fair.”

he shifted lower as he said it, dragging his mouth down the front of her shirt until he hit the hem. his hands slid beneath it at the same time, warm palms skating over the backs of her thighs as he moved down the bed, nose brushing along the soft skin of her stomach before it disappeared below the fabric completely and his head settled between her legs.

he kissed the inside of her thigh first, then again a little closer to the edge of her underwear. his hands were gripping her hips now, firm but not forceful, thumbs brushing slow circles over her skin like he was trying to soothe her into saying yes.

she sighed, fingers slipping from his hair and falling to her lap.

“chris…”

he paused, lips resting against her skin, eyes lifting toward her.

“i really would rather you wait until it’s fully healed,” she said, gentle but certain, her hand finding his shoulder like she needed to feel him while she said it. “i don’t need you to do anything. i’m okay, really.”

he blinked up at her, pressed another kiss to her inner thigh, then shook his head just barely

“who said it’s for you?”

her stomach flipped, thighs twitching around his shoulders.

“please, baby. i need it.”

he kept his eyes on her as he spoke, voice low and slightly shaky, mouth dragging along her skin again like he couldn’t help himself. the ring didn’t hurt anymore, it hadn’t for a minute, he could barely even feel it. but even if it did, even if it tugged or stung or swelled, he didn’t care. he’d been thinking about her for too long. he just needed to feel close.

“miss the sounds you make,” he whispered, lips brushing her knee, “miss how you get all shy for me—”

he kissed a little lower, her hand slid back into his hair and her fingers tightened. her thighs twitched again, then slowly parted further, not much but enough to make his breath catch.

“miss how soft you get when you’re close,” he murmured, voice breaking a little as his mouth opened more, tongue just barely grazing her skin now. the trail of kisses turned messier, needier.

“miss the way you hold onto me when you cum“

her breath hitched, a soft whimper slipping from her mouth before she could catch it, and it just about undid him. his hands slid up her thighs again, squeezing gently, lips moving with more pressure now, more purpose, closer and closer until he was nuzzling the thin fabric of her underwear, mouthing against it like he could already taste her through it and she sucked in a breath, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“if it hurts you,” she started, voice barely above a whisper, “you have to promise you’ll stop. and you have to clean it immediately after, i’m not—”

“yeah yeah,” he rushed out, eyes still locked on her, pupils blown, “clean it, i will, swear, c’mon—”

his fingers hooked into the side of her underwear and he tapped her hip gently, a little impatient, a little desperate. she lifted them just enough for him to pull the fabric to the side, her hips tilting slightly like her body had already decided for her. chris let out a shaky breath, one he didn’t even try to hold in, his eyes locked on the wet patch that had formed against the cotton, his mouth dragging along the inside of her thigh again as he pushed the fabric out of the way.

“fuuuuuck,” he whispered, so low it barely landed in the space between them

he didn’t waste time, didn’t try to tease, just lowered his head and kissed her pussy once, the heat of it making her jolt before she could stop herself. he kissed her again, open mouthed this time, tongue slipping out to part her gently, tasting her like he’d been craving it for weeks. which he had and every part of him showed it.

his hands curled tighter around her thighs, keeping them spread, thumbs brushing along her skin as he licked again, slower now, more focused. her hips twitched and her fingers found his hair, grip firm, pulling lightly like she needed something to anchor her. his lip ring was cool at first, but it warmed quickly against her skin, barely noticeable with the way his mouth moved.

he moaned into her, loud enough to make her eyes flutter. he didn’t even realize he did it, just kept going, kept licking, kept dragging the flat of his tongue from her entrance up to her clit and back again like he was starving.

her head tipped back, mouth falling open, one hand gripping the pillow behind her. she tried to stay quiet, tried to keep the noises in her throat, but one slipped out anyway.

soft and breathy at first, barely there, but when his tongue circled her clit again — another followed. higher this time, a whine caught halfway between a moan and his name.

“baby…”

he groaned, tongue flattening against her as he licked up and through her folds, collecting everything she gave him and diving right back in. the sound of it was obscene, his mouth loud and wet, the quiet rhythm of his breath through his nose only broken when he shifted to kiss at her clit again.

she whimpered, legs tightening around him, her hips starting to roll without thought, chasing every bit of pressure he gave her. he felt her start to lose it, her thighs trembling, her fingers tugging hard at his curls, her moans falling into a messy string of broken sounds — and just when her hips lifted again, like she was trying to grind down against his mouth harder, he pulled back.

not far, just enough to make her gasp and jolt, her body chasing the warmth of his mouth like it couldn’t stand the sudden distance.

“mm,” he breathed, grinning just slightly as he kissed her inner thigh. “i want you to talk to me, star.”

she blinked down at him, flushed and dazed, lips parted.

“tell me how you’re feeling,” he said, voice low and sweet, the kind of tone that made her want to cry if he kept it up too long. his fingers squeezed her thighs gently, mouth brushing just barely over her again. “need to hear you.”

she tried to swallow, tried to focus, but her brain was already half gone. her thighs trembled against his shoulders, her chest rising quick. she looked down at him, eyes glossy, fingers still tangled in his hair like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull him closer or push him away just to breathe.

“chris,” she whispered, breath hitching when he kissed her again, light and barely there, right over her clit. “feels…feels really fucking good.”

he hummed, satisfied, licking slow and soft, just enough to make her twitch. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she managed, her voice shaky, almost quiet enough to disappear into the room. “feels so good. been thinking about it since…”

she didn’t finish the sentence, just let out a high little moan when he circled his tongue again, slow and focused, drawing patterns that had her legs starting to shake.

“since what?” he mumbled, pressing a kiss right to her entrance, warm and open and messy. “say it.”

“since the day we did it,” she gasped, hips rolling against his mouth without meaning to. “you wouldn’t shut up and i still wanted you so bad.”

he smiled into her, “you shoulda let me.”

“ would’ve made it swell worse,” she moaned, the words slipping out fast. “if not, i would’ve let you do anything.”

that did something to him. his grip tightened on her thighs, his mouth getting messier now, tongue flicking over her clit in tighter circles, not pausing this time, not pulling back. he kept his eyes on her the whole time, watching the way her mouth dropped open again, how her head tipped back, how the moans got louder and sharper the longer he kept it up.

“god, chris, please,” she whimpered, voice breaking right around the edges. “feels so good, i’m gonna…”

he slid one finger into her with no warning, the slick heat of it pulling a soft gasp from her chest. her hips bucked and her thighs twitched, but what really got him was the way her voice cut off completely, her mouth still parted but silent now, like the stretch knocked the air out of her.

so he stilled and her eyes flew open, breath catching in her throat again when she felt him pause.

“no, no, wait,” she said quickly, voice rushed, panicked in the smallest way. “what—why did you stop?”

he pulled his mouth back, chin shiny, tongue dragging across his bottom lip as he looked up at her.

“i said i wanted to hear you,” he murmured, tone steady. “you get quiet and i stop.”

her jaw dropped, eyebrows furrowing like she didn’t know whether to cry or slap him.

“christopher.”

he smiled just a little, kissing the inside of her thigh again, his finger still deep inside her, barely moving. “not gonna ask again.”

she sucked in a breath, swallowed hard, her hips twitching beneath his hand as she looked down at him through heavy lashes. her cheeks felt hot, lips parted, hair sticking to her forehead

“okay,” she whispered, voice cracking. “okay—i will. just—please, don’t stop.”

that was all he needed before he pressed his mouth right back to her, tongue dragging and curled his finger at the same time, causing her to choke on another moan. her legs shook around him, her back arching slightly off the bed as she reached for his hair again.

“right there,” she gasped, barely able to get the words out, “oh my god, right there—don’t stop, please don’t stop”

he moaned into her again, louder this time, the vibration sending her nearly over the edge. he added another finger, easing her open while his tongue stayed steady, working soft circles against her clit, never losing rhythm.

“chris,” she whimpered, voice high and breathless, “more, i need more—please, please—”

he sped up his fingers, his mouth following suit, both of them more desperate now than ever. her praise pushed him over some kind of edge too, made him grip her harder, pull her closer, tongue flattening then flicking, over and over again.

“so fuckin’ good for me,” he mumbled against her, pulling back enough to speak, then licking back up with more pressure, her taste coating his mouth. “you sound so pretty like this, baby, fuck—don’t stop talkin’, come on”

she cried out, legs shaking now, the words tumbling out too fast and messy to hold back.

“i’m so close, so close—please, don’t stop…don’t stop, oh my god—”

chris groaned, tongue working faster now, fingers fucking into her slow and deep to balance it, her walls fluttering around him like they did every time she was right on the edge. he dragged his mouth up again to speak, his voice low and wrecked, his breath warm against her slick skin.

“don’t wanna stop ’til you’re fuckin’ cryin’,” he said, tone so soft it nearly sounded sweet. “wanna feel you grip my hair, baby. c’mon, can you do that for me?”

he dipped right back down before she could say anything, mouth messier now, he was everywhere — tongue, lips, fingers — and it was too much. her hands locked in his curls, tugging hard as her body started to tremble under him.

“chris—oh my god, please,” she sobbed out, voice cracking as the wave hit. her thighs clamped around his head, her back arched, the pressure breaking open like she couldn’t keep it in anymore. she moaned loud, then louder, her whole body shaking as she came.

and he didn’t stop, he kept going just like he said he would, licking through it, fingers curling inside her, chasing every bit of it like he could stretch it out.

“that’s it,” he whispered against her, breathless. “sound so fuckin’ pretty baby”, her cries turned to whimpers, her grip in his hair only tightening, and when her voice started to falter again he pressed his tongue right back to her clit.

she was trembling beneath him, thighs twitching every time his tongue made contact. her hand was still in his hair, grip loosening now, fingers sliding a little as her strength gave out. he felt it. the way her hips kept stuttering, the way her she started to go quiet, the way her chest was rising like she couldn’t catch a full breath.

he slowed it down, just slightly, softer licks now, gentle kisses pressed against her clit like he was soothing her through the aftershocks.

“you’re okay,” he murmured, voice hoarse, lips still brushing her. “i got you.”

she let out a shaky breath, one hand sliding to her stomach like she didn’t know what to do with it. her other was still in his hair, still curled there without pressure, just resting now. her eyes fluttered open for a second, then shut again as another little wave hit her. she whimpered quietly, her whole body clenching up once before relaxing again.

“still with me?” he asked, kissing the inside of her thigh, then again, then once more, slower each time.

“uh-huh,” she breathed, barely audible, her legs finally starting to relax. “just—fuck dude.”

chris let out a soft laugh into her thigh, one of his hands still stroking gently along the outside of it. he pressed one last kiss there before he pushed himself up, his curls messy, face completely wrecked, mouth and chin shiny with her arousal.

he tugged his shirt up awkwardly over his head, the hem catching on his shoulder for a second. she watched him through half lidded eyes, lips twitching, breath still uneven.

“what are you doing?” she asked, voice weak but teasing.

“gettin’ rid of the evidence,” he muttered, using the inside of the shirt to wipe his face first, rough cotton dragging over his skin as he winced at his own handiwork. he glanced down at her as he leaned in, hands moving gently, using the cleaner edge of the same shirt to clean her up next. slow and careful, soft little passes between her legs until she hissed and grabbed his wrist.

“okay, okay,” she mumbled. “sensitive.”

“sorry baby,” he said, even quieter now, leaning down to press a kiss to her knee.

he slid her underwear back into place like he wasn’t in a rush to be done with her, pulling the fabric gently, smoothing it with both thumbs. then he leaned forward and kissed her stomach. once just above the waistband, once in the center, and once a little higher before he finally dragged himself up over her.

she blinked at him as he hovered, then smiled as he dipped in to kiss her mouth. it was slow and messy, a little lazy, the kind of kiss that said thank you more than anything else. she could taste herself on his lips and she made a soft sound into his mouth that had him pulling her in tighter.

he pulled back just slightly, eyes still on hers, his voice smug.

“see? got what i wanted, you got head, and my lip’s just fine. could’ve totally let me do this earlier.”

she rolled her eyes, breath still heavy, one hand resting on his bare shoulder.

“god forbid i didn’t wanna fuck your lip up.”

he smiled, leaned in again and kissed her once more, then pressed a softer kiss to her cheek. “my sweet girl,” he whispered.

he started to settle beside her, knees dipping into the mattress like he was about to get comfortable, but her hand pushed weakly at his chest before he could get fully settled.

“no,” she said, eyes still closed, voice stern. “bathroom. now. clean it.”

he groaned dramatically, head dropping to her shoulder.

“star…”

“i’m serious,” she said, barely hiding her smile. “you swore.”

“i did,” he muttered, dragging himself up with the weight of a man twice his size. “i did swear. i’ll do it. i’m doing it now.”

“good,” she said, already curling up under the blanket.

he kissed her forehead before disappearing down the hall, still shirtless, and she smiled to herself in the dark.

authors note: this is longer than i originally planned for it to be, soooo sorry😭

#𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic

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darksturnz · 21 days ago

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─── ⋮ ⌗ PIERCINGS. . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: suggestive fluff, mention of needle/piercing through skin, + more… WC: 1.3k

chris rolled the blunt in star’s lap, lazy and half-focused, using the last crinkled paper he found in the bottom of his cigar box. she was laid out across the bed, stomach down, chin resting near his knee, tracing the tattoo on his forearm. the fan was on low, window cracked just enough to let the heat in.

“you’d look so hot with a lip ring,” she mumbled, eyes still on his arm.

he didn’t even glance up, just let out a soft snort, thumb brushing over the wrap. “you’ve been sayin’ that since february.”

she grinned into his leg. “maybe ‘cause it’s true.”

he licked the paper, sealed it sloppy. “what, you got a thing for piercings or somethin’?”

“noooo,” she said, dragging the syllable out, “not really? i just think i’d do dirty things if you had one.”

that made him look up. not long — just a flick of his eyes, quick grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

a week later, he came in through the front door with grease on his shirt and the sun still hot on his skin. he’d been working on the car all afternoon, hunched under the hood with his phone stuffed in his back pocket playing some old record he was trying to memorize the guitar from.

lila had just left ten minutes earlier, her overnight bag thrown over one shoulder, calling out “byeee don’t forget about me” like they ever could.

the trailer was quiet now, just the faint buzz of the tv and the thump of her foot against the side of the couch, half-sprawled with one hand in the bag of chips she said she wasn’t gonna finish.

she glanced over at him as he kicked the door shut behind him, a little confused when she saw the small amazon box in his hand.

“what’s that?” she asked, tilting her head and squinting like it might tell her if she stared hard enough.

chris looked down at it, then back at her, lips tugging into a crooked smile. “was gonna ask you that. i didn’t order anything.”

she sat up slowly, brushing crumbs off her shirt. “me neither.”

he walked over, dropped it gently onto her lap. “well, it’s got your name on it.”

she looked at him, looked at the box, then back at him again, suspiciously. tore the tape off and peeled it open, slow at first, then faster once she saw the silver.

a $15 piercing kit. sealed needle, alcohol wipes, black surgical gloves, a little packet of jewelry in a ziploc bag. it was similar to the one she had at home, tucked underneath her bathroom sink.

she blinked before looking up, chris just smiled again, shoulders rising in a shrug.

“you’re fucking kidding,” she said, grinning now, already holding the hoop between her fingers like she was mentally placing it on his lip.

he scratched the back of his neck. “figured if i was gonna do it, i’d rather you be the one to fuck it up.”

“so romantic.”

“you’re the one who said you’d do shit if i got one.”

she huffed a laugh, still staring at the stud in her hand. “i was, like, really high.”

chris shrugged, leaning against the counter. “yeah, and? i remember it.”

she bit her lip, then let her gaze flick to his mouth. thought about it for maybe half a second. then stood up, grabbed the box, and said, “bathroom. now.”

“yes, ma’am,” chris muttered under his breath, following her down the hall with a smirk he couldn’t hide if he tried.

he sat on the closed toilet lid while she dug through the box, legs spread, hands on his thighs, head tilted just slightly like he wasn’t trying to look at her ass while she leaned over the sink. he definitely looked.

the bathroom light buzzed overhead, that ugly yellow glow that made everything look a little off, but it didn’t seem to bother her. she looked focused, peeling open alcohol swabs, shaking her hands out like she needed to be in the zone. she’d tied her hair up fast, a few strands falling around her face, and he could feel the heat curling in his stomach just watching her.

“ ‘kay, you sure about this?” she asked, glancing at him in the mirror.

he shrugged. “yeah. kinda too late to chicken out now.”

she turned, pressing the cold wipe against his lip without warning, giggling when he flinched. “you’re already flinching, baby.”

“s’cold,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away.

she kept his face steady with one hand, thumb under his chin, the other rummaging for the stud he picked. “this one, right?” she held up the black hoop, simple and small.

he nodded,

“alright.” she grabbed an ice cube from the cup she’d brought in, wrapped it in a crumpled paper towel, and held it to his lip, pressing gently. “i gotta numb it first. unless you wanna be a man and do it raw.”

“absolutely not,” he mumbled, eyes closed. “fuck that.”

she laughed under her breath, leaned in closer, her voice a little softer now. “you’re kinda cute when you’re nervous.”

“i’m not nervous,” he mumbled.

“mhm.”

they sat like that for a minute — him, lips going numb, her, legs crossed on the counter now, box in her lap, shoulders a little tense.

she didn’t want to fuck it up. not really because of the piercing, he’d be fine, but because he trusted her enough to let her do it. and that kind of thing still caught her off guard sometimes.

“okay,” she said finally, grabbing the gloves, snapping them on, a little too big but they’d work. “head up.”

he looked at her. really looked at her. “gonna kiss me after, right?”

she raised a brow. “you can’t kiss me after. it’ll swell more or get infected.”

“that’s not a no.”

she rolled her eyes, grinning. “shut up and stay still.”

the needle was sharp, he winced but didn’t move. he let her talk him through it, her fingers light on his jaw, voice low and focused.

“almost done. breathe, chris.”

“i am breathing,” he snapped, brows furrowed.

“okay, well you sound like you’re dying, so.”

he didn’t respond, just groaned low when she finally slid the hoop into place, that part seeming to hurt worse than the needle, and wiped the corner of his mouth clean.

“holy fucking shit,” he muttered, blinking as she let go of him.

she held up the mirror from her makeup bag, angled it toward him. his lip was red, a little puffy, but the ring sat snug and clean.

“…..looks…..good,” he said, surprised.

she hopped off the counter, leaned into his space. “i told you.”

he glanced at her, smiling. “so. about those dirty things…”

“you gotta let it heal first.”

“what if i don’t care?”

“i do.”

he groaned, head tilting back against the cabinet with a soft thud, hands going to her hips. she was still standing between his legs, close enough for him to smell the leftover coconut lotion on her thighs, the hint of weed in her hair.

“there’s like plenty of things to do that don’t involve my mouth, star,” he muttered, eyes flicking up to hers, slow and lazy.

she rolled her eyes but didn’t move. “you’re so annoying.”

“i’m just sayin’,” he said, fingers tightening just a little on her waist, “you started this whole thing. you can’t dangle ‘dirty things’ in front of me and then make me wait forever.”

“you’re the one who let me stab your face. you want a reward that bad?” she raised a brow.

he nodded, shameless. “kinda, yeah.”

“oh my poor baby.” her hands slid into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“so mean.”

she grinned, leaning in just enough that her breath hit his cheek. “if you stop pouting, i’ll sit on your lap and maybe let you touch me.”

“that’s actually fucked up.”

“mm,” she hummed, already turning to leave the bathroom, “but you kinda like it.”

he followed her out like a dog on a leash, lips sore, stomach tight with want. and yeah — he did. he really did.

authors note: im actually so tall n strong n manly like him btw if u need that #takeme

#𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets smut

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darksturnz · 4 months ago

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──── ⋮ ⌗ UNICORN CUPCAKES. . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

@pip4444chris req :3 i love u my sweet angel. this is a part of a series, but can be read on its own! CONTENTS: oral (m receiving).

chris sat hunched at the little desk in the corner of his bedroom, his legs spread, one knee bouncing, phone tilted sideways in his palm as he scrolled with his thumb. the glow from the screen hit the tired slope of his face, eyes bloodshot and half-lidded like he hadn’t really blinked in a while. but every once in a while, he’d grunt under his breath, muttering something about how “there’s no fuckin’ reason glitter tattoos should be two hundred goddamn dollars.”

star was stretched across his bed behind him, legs swinging off the edge, wet hair clinging to her cheek and the back of her neck from the shower she’d just taken. she had one hand resting on her stomach, the other holding her phone above her face, pretending to scroll even though she kept glancing at him.

he looked like shit, but not in the usual messy-hair and crinkled shirt kind of way. his jaw was tight, posture stiff and curled in like the whole world was pressing into his spine.

“you should take a break,” she said gently, letting her phone fall onto her stomach.

“i can’t,” he mumbled. “if i don’t figure this out soon, there won’t be anything left. or the stuff that is left’ll be like… bootleg minnie mouse who gives out balloon swords and tells the kids she’s on break when they ask for a picture with a cigarette in her mouth”

“you think lila would notice if there wasn’t a face painter?”

chris turned in his chair just enough to look at her. “you know she’d notice. she’d smile through it and say thank you, and then cry about it when she thinks nobody’s looking. she’s been talkin’ about this party for months.”

star sat up slightly, her brows pulling. “you’ve already done so much. she’s gonna have the best party ever and be so happy”

he didn’t respond, just sighed and let his head fall back with a quiet thud against the wall.

what he didn’t say—but what star already knew—was that he wasn’t just trying to plan the perfect birthday party. he was trying to time it just right so evelyn could be there too. the doctors had given him some maybe yes, maybe no bullshit about her being able to come home next week, depending on how her counts looked.

he was trying to make sure lila got her magic day, and their mom got to be there for it. trying to keep it all together when nothing ever really felt steady.

“c’mere,” star said softly.

chris didn’t move at first. just sat there with his hand over his mouth, eyes unfocused like he was drifting somewhere far. but after a beat, he rolled the chair back and dropped down onto the edge of the bed with a tired grunt.

“can’t believe i’m about to say this,” he mumbled, digging into his pocket for the joint he’d rolled earlier, “but i wish she’d asked for a damn piñata or somethin’ instead.”

star smiled faintly. “she’s six, baby. she thinks face painters are celebrities, not beating candy out of cardboard animal.”

he chuckled under his breath and lit the joint with one hand before he took a slow drag, his eyes closing. the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease much, but the furrow between his brows smoothed out just a little.

she watched him for a second, the way his thumb rubbed along his knee, the way he blew the smoke out toward the ceiling. she scooted closer, slowly sliding off the bed until she was kneeling on the floor between his legs, her hands resting on his thighs.

his brows knit again. “what’re you doin’?”

“you’re stressed,” she said simply, tilting her head up to look at him. “let me help.” her head already dipping as she palmed him through his sweats. “you’ve been like… two seconds away from losing it all day.”

chris opened his mouth to argue, but then she slid her hand under the waistband, wrapped her fingers around his cock, and he just exhaled . . . hard.

“star.”

“mm?” she blinked up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent like her hand wasn’t stroking slow and tight, dragging his sweats down just enough. “keep talking. what else needs to get done?”

his eyes fluttered. “i—fuck. i still gotta call that one bakery back. the one with the… the unicorn cupcakes. and the… the balloons.”

she let her tongue drag across the tip of him, teasing, soft.

“keep goin’, ” she whispered, thumb circling lazily under his head. “you were sayin’?”

chris shuddered. “i don’t—fuck, i can’t even think with your mouth on me.”

“haven’t used my mouth yet.” she kissed the side of his cock, slow and hot. “but keep talking and maybe i’ll be nice.”

he shot her a glare, but it melted the second she licked a long stripe from base to tip.

“you’re evil,” he muttered.

“uh-huh.” her lips wrapped around his head and he choked on a groan.

his hand slid into her damp hair, not guiding—just holding like if he didn’t, he’d float straight through the ceiling.

“star,” he breathed, hips already trying to rock into her mouth, “baby, slow down—fuck.”

she pulled off with a lewd pop, lips shiny, eyes locked on his.

“what’s next on the list?” she asked, hand still working him while her tongue flicked against the underside.

he tried. really tried. opened his mouth like he had a plan, but she took him back in before he could get a single syllable out and he nearly folded.

“that’s what i thought,” she mumbled around him.

his whole body twitched, thighs tense, chest rising and falling like he’d just run laps.

“all you want is to be a good big brother huh?” she asked sweetly, kissing his tip while her hand jerked him firm and slow. “take care of everything and everyone?”

he nodded fast, eyes dazed. “yeah. yeah, that’s all I want.”

“then let me take care of you for a second.”

she swallowed him deeper this time, until her nose nudged his pelvis, and he groaned so loud he had to bite his own lip to minimize the sound.

“please baby.”

“you like when i suck your cock while you talk about unicorn cupcakes?” she teased, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“don’t say that out loud again,” he laughed breathlessly.

“why not?” she pulled off again, dragging her tongue along his slit. “you’re hard as a rock talkin’ about face paint and glitter.”

he gritted his teeth. “i’m hard because your mouth’s perfect.”

“then look at me,” she whispered.

and he did, immediately locked eyes with her while she sucked him back down, slow and messy, letting spit dribble down her chin, her lips stretching wide around him. her hand pumped whatever she couldn’t fit, and the sound of it all echoing off the walls made his stomach tighten.

“shit,” he groaned, low and raw. “you love this, huh? bein’ on your knees for me?”

she hummed in response, sending a vibration up his spine.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasped. “jesus, star… look at those pretty eyes.”

she blinked up at him again, cheeks hollowed, tongue working him over like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

he was close and she knew it. could feel the way his thighs started to shake, the way his grip in her hair tightened just a little.

“m’gonna cum,” he warned. “baby, gonna cum—don’t stop.”

which she didn’t, if anything she took him deeper, let her tongue roll and her hand twist just right.

he let out a low, wrecked groan, hips stuttering as he spilled into her mouth, his breath catching in his throat.

she took it all, didn’t flinch. just swallowed, then licked him clean like she’d been starving for it.

when she finally sat up, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, chris was staring at her like he didn’t even remember what day it was.

“feelin’ better?” she, a small smile forming on her face at his fucked out expression and he nodded slowly.

“so, you wanna try that list again?” she teased.

👥: : go here to be added to the tag list

#𑁍ࠬܓdarksturnz #𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfiction #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets smut

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darksturnz · 5 months ago

Text

──── ⋮ ⌗ TASTE. . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut-heavy plot ・star!reader x artist!chris・oral (f! receiving)・slight overstimulation + more WC: 2.2k+

this pairing is from this series, but it can be read alone :3! + everyone scream n shout & thank @bernardsbendystraws for proofreading mwah <333

It starts slow, like everything between them does.

Chris isn’t one to rush. Not when it comes to this with kind of stuff with her. He’s too good at reading her—at knowing when she’s hesitant, when she’s unsure, even when she tries to play it off like she isn’t.

And tonight, she’s past nervous.

It’s in the way she hesitates when he tugs at the waistband of her shorts, the way her fingers twist in the sheets as she swallows hard. It’s in the little breaths she takes, the way her lips part like she’s about to say something, only to stay silent with a small exhale.

Chris is patient, though. Always has been with her. Always will be.

“You okay?” His voice is low, lazy, like they have all the time in the world. Because he made sure they would, it was like an unspoken rule to him that he made sure to savior any moments like these with her.

Star nods, but she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Chris tilts his head, catching that. His hands, large and warm, press against the tops of her thighs. A slow rub of his thumbs, attempting to soothe her nerves. “We don’t have to, y’know,” he murmurs, lips dragging against the inside of her knee. “Ain’t gonna make you do shit you don’t wanna do.”

“No— I know, I want to” she says quietly. She does. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t trust him.

His mouth curves against her skin. “Then why you so nervous, huh?”

She exhales sharply, cheeks heating. Chris watches the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her pulse fluttering beneath her skin. He dips his head lower, dragging his lips up the soft inside of her thigh, feeling her breath hitch.

“It’s—” Star stops, shakes her head. Her voice is small when she admits, “No one’s ever, um…”

Chris stills. Then, he looks up at her, brow arching. “What? Ain’t nobody ever ate you out before?”

She huffs, trying to roll her eyes, but the effect is ruined by how flustered she is. “Nevermind.”

His grin is slow, lazy. “M’just askin’, baby.”

Star lets out a shaky breath. “…Well no.”

That shouldn’t make him as smug as it does, but fuck—he can’t help it. Something warm and possessive unfurls in his chest, making his stomach tighten.

His hands spread her thighs wider, and this time, she lets him. “Yeah?” His voice drops, mouth pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses up her inner thigh. “Guess I gotta make it real good for you, then.”

She shivers, stomach tensing. “You—” Her breath stutters when he hooks his fingers in her shorts, sliding them down her legs along with her panties, leaving her bare beneath him.

Chris watches the way she squirms, like she’s resisting the urge to snap her legs shut. Like she’s feeling a little too exposed, a little too vulnerable.

“Jus’ relax for me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below her navel. “Gonna take such good care of you, promise.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does force herself to unclench her hands from the sheets.

Chris takes his time. He trails his mouth over her skin, his breath warm as he presses slow, teasing kisses along the crease of her thigh, just close enough to make her squirm. His hands, rough and steady, slide up her thighs, thumbs dipping into the soft flesh.

Star lets out a quiet, shaky breath. Then another.

Chris doesn’t move too fast, doesn’t push too soon. He wants her to settle into it, to ease into his touch, into the way his mouth feels against her skin.

And when he finally drags his tongue through her folds, slow and deliberate, she gasps.

He groans against her at the taste—warm and slick and so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” he mutters, more to himself than her. He licks into her again, dragging his tongue through her, savoring every fucking drop. His fingers press into her thighs, holding her still as she squirms.

She’s so sensitive, so reactive, every little flick of his tongue is making her body twitch.

Chris could quite literally stay here all night.

He licks into her, slow and steady, mapping out every inch of her with his mouth. The little gasps and breathy moans she tries to hold back just spur him on, make him hungrier.

He flattens his tongue against her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her whimper. Then he pulls back, dragging the tip of his tongue over the swollen bud, teasingly.

Star’s thighs twitch, hands gripping the sheets, and he knows she’s trying so fucking hard to keep herself together.

Chris hums, sending vibrations through her. “Feels good, don’t it?” His voice is thick, laced with something almost reverent.

She doesn’t answer.

Chris smirks, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he dips lower, lapping at her entrance, groaning as her taste floods his tongue.

He’s already thinking about next time she’ll let him do this.

“Chris,” she breathes, and that’s when he knows he has her.

She’s unraveling beneath him, piece by piece and he slides his arms under her thighs, locking her in place as he buries himself deeper. His tongue moves in slow thorough strokes, his nose brushing against her clit as he works her open with his mouth.

He’s relentless, and she can’t do anything but take it.

Her hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling tight. He groans into her, the sound vibrating through her, making her hips jerk.

“Chris—” Her voice breaks, her body trembling. “Too much, I—”

But he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t slow down..

He knows she’s close—he can feel it in the way her thighs tense, the way her breaths come quicker, sharper. He licks into her, sucking her clit into his mouth just to hear the way she gasps, the way she chokes out a moan that sounds almost pained.

He keeps going, even as she trembles beneath him, even as she tries to push at his shoulders, her body too overwhelmed.

She’s sensitive, he knows, but he doesn’t necessarily care.

“Jus’ one more, baby,” he murmurs against her, voice low and coaxing. “You can do that for me, yeah?”

She whimpers, back arching off the bed, her lips parting to suck in a sharp breath.

Chris doesn’t wait for an answer, He slides two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she lets out a choked gasp, a broken whimper—her entire body seizes as Chris works her open, his fingers pressing deep, curling just right.

“Oh—” Her voice cuts off into a sharp moan, thighs trembling around his head.

Chris groans against her, his cock throbbing painfully at the way she sounds, at the way she clenches so tight around his fingers. “Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his mouth slick against her, words nearly lost between deep strokes of his tongue.

Star’s hands are everywhere—fisting the sheets, tugging at his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. She’s falling apart so fucking hard, it makes his stomach twist with something molten.

“Chris—” Her voice is nothing more than a desperate plea, breathless and wrecked. She pulls at his hair, her hips jerking up into his mouth. “Chris, I—fuck, I can’t—”

He hums against her, the vibrations sending a jolt up her spine. He presses his fingers deeper, rubbing against that spot inside her that makes her whole body jolt, makes her head toss back into the pillows.

“Shh, baby,” he coaxes, his lips dragging against her clit, his fingers never stopping. “You can. You are.”

She sobs, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. “It’s too much—”

Chris hums, voice rough, low. “That so?”

She nods frantically, breath hitching, but she’s still pushing into his touch, her hips rolling into the steady drag of his fingers, chasing more even as she whimpers about how much it is.

Chris watches her from below, his lips swollen, his chin slick. His dark eyes, heavy-lidded and hungry, flicker up to meet hers. “Then why are you still fuckin’ on my fingers like that, huh?”

Star’s eyes flutter shut, a noise catching in her throat, mortified by the way her body betrays her.

Chris chuckles, the sound rich and warm, sending another wave of heat straight through her. “You want more?”

She doesn’t answer. Can’t. Her mind is melting, everything spiraling too fast, too much.

Chris doesn’t like that. He pulls back slightly, his fingers still deep inside her, but his mouth hovering just out of reach. “C’mon, Star. Say it.”

She shakes her head, blinking fast, tears pricking at her eyes. “Chris—”

He gives her a slow, indulgent pump of his fingers, his thumb circling over her clit, and her back arches off the mattress with a strangled cry.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice dropping to something darker, something more demanding. “Tell me you want more.”

Star’s head rolls to the side, her lip trembling, her body shaking. “Chris, please—”

His fingers curl again, dragging against her walls in that way that makes her legs quake. “That ain’t what I asked, baby.”

A sob rips from her throat. “I—I want—” She shakes her head, chest heaving, her entire body tightening around him. “I want more—fuck, I want more.”

Chris growls against her, his mouth latching back onto her, his tongue flicking over her clit just as his fingers press deeper.

Star chokes on a scream, her whole body locking up as another orgasm crashes over her, violent and unrelenting.

He just keeps going, keeps licking, keeps fucking her with his fingers, working her through every pulsing wave of it.

Star sobs, her hands shaking, her thighs trembling around his head. “Chris—Chris, I—”

Even as her voice breaks, even as her hands tremble where they clutch at his hair, even as her body jolts with every flick of his tongue—he still doesn’t stop.

“Wait—” Her voice is a wrecked sob, her entire body quivering, fingers twitching as she tries—fails—to push him away.

He doesn’t listen.

Instead, he slides his hands up, locking her thighs in place, keeping her spread open for him. His mouth moves softer now, slower, guiding her through it, helping her ride the waves crashing over her.

She whimpers, body twitching as another aftershock shudders through her.

Chris watches her from below, completely transfixed. She’s a fucking mess—her skin is sticky, her chest heaving, her lips parted around shaky little breaths.

And she’s beautiful.

So fucking beautiful.

His tongue sweeps over her one last time, savoring the way she quivers beneath him, and then—finally—he pulls away.

The gasp that rips from her is sharp and startled.

Chris kisses the inside of her thigh as he watches the way her legs twitch, still trembling, her body completely fucked.

“Shiiiit,” he rasps, voice thick with something he can’t quite name. “You okay?”

Star nods, but it’s weak, her breath still coming in uneven stutters.

Chris smirks, pressing another soft kiss to her thigh. “Did so fuckin’ good for me,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice like warm honey. His hands trace slow, gentle circles over her hips, up her waist, grounding her back to earth.

She sniffles, blinking up at the ceiling, still trying to catch her breath.

Chris watches her for a moment, then slowly moves up her body, pressing lazy kisses along the way—up her stomach, over her ribs, along the curve of her shoulder. His lips graze her collarbone before he finally reaches her face, tilting his head to catch her gaze.

Her eyes are glassy, and a tired smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“You still with me?”

She swallows hard, nodding, but still doesn’t speak.

Chris huffs a quiet laugh. He tucks a damp strand of hair behind her ear, his touch impossibly soft. “Didn’t mean to break you,” he teases, but there’s something fond in his voice, something careful.

Star scowls, or tries to. “You didn’t.” But her voice is wrecked, and Chris grins.

“Yeah?” He presses a kiss to her cheek, then another to the tip of her nose. “Y’sure ‘bout that?”

She huffs, but it’s weak, her legs still trembling where they lay spread across the sheets.

Chris notices, eyes flickering down. He trails his hands over her thighs, rubbing slow, steady circles into her skin. “Still shakin’,” he murmurs, more to himself than her.

Her lips part, like she wants to say something, but then she just shakes her head softly.

Chris smiles, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the inside of her thigh. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs against her skin, voice thick and slow, like he’s drunk on her.

She giggles softly but turns her head to the side, like she’s embarrassed.

Chris just hums, nuzzling against her. “Too much?” he asks, but there’s no teasing in his voice now. Just genuine curiosity, genuine care.

Star hesitates, then nods, “only a little.”

Chris watches her for a second, then presses soft kiss to her temple. “Next time, I’ll be gentle, yeah?”

Star’s breath catches. Next time.

She blinks up at him, lips parted.

Chris raises a brow, amused. “What?”

She shakes her head, looking away, cheeks flushed. “Nothing.”

Chris huffs a laugh, but again doesn’t push. He just keeps rubbing her thighs, helping her come down, whispering incoherent things against her skin.

authors note: me when i say “blurb” and it’s very much not that LMAO, anyways

👥: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife

@pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken

@mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips

@sturniolo-fann @chrisslut04 @owensbabygirl @sturnslutz @sturniqlo

@sofieeeeex @jadasmp4 @ncm9696 @courta13 @vanteguccir

@whore4mattsturniolo @ellbowmacaroni @meerkatzthings @sturnsrecord @wildfluer

@delilahsturns @cherrypickedchris @chrepsi @strnilolover @swagfacepeanut

#𑁍ࠬܓdarksturnz #𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #chris stuniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfiction #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo drabble #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets smut

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darksturnz · 8 months ago

Text

COMFORT IN THE CHAOS

CONTENTS:・emotional distress-heavy plot ・star!reader ・mild language ・sleeping in the same bed・artist!chris ・piercing discussion (self-piercing mentioned) ・fluff/found family vibes :3 + more WC: 11.5k masterlist: here

You’re sitting cross-legged at the edge of the trailer park playground, a cigarette dangling between your fingers, watching the sky bleed into a bruise of purples and greys. The swings creak in the breeze, empty but moving like ghosts are riding them. It’s the kind of silence that makes you feel like you’re the only one alive here.

Then you see her.

She’s small—probably no more than six—and she’s making a beeline straight for you. Loose curls of brown hair bounce against her shoulders, the kind that’s already starting to frizz in the sticky air, and her greenish-brown eyes look determined. You recognize her before she’s even close: Chris’s sister. Lila.

She’s clutching something to her chest, tiny fingers wrapped tight around it. As she stops in front of you, she presses her lips together, like she’s sizing you up.

“Uh… hey,” you say, because what else do you say to a kid who comes up to you unprompted? “You lost or something?”

She shakes her head solemnly. “You’re Star.”

It’s not a question.

You blink, a little caught off guard. “Yeah. That’s me.”

Satisfied, she drops her hands, holding her stuffed bunny up for you to see. You notice the torn ear right away, the uneven stitching like someone—probably Chris—tried to fix it but gave up halfway through. The poor thing’s been through hell.

“This is Bunny,” Lila says. “He’s tired.”

You tilt your head, amusement flickering across your face. “Same.”

Lila’s smile is shy but pleased, like you’ve passed some secret test. Without waiting for an invitation, she plops down next to you on the gravel, the stuffed rabbit settling into her lap like a living thing.

For a second, you just watch her, mildly bewildered. You don’t exactly scream kid-friendly, not with the cigarette stubs and piercings and eyeliner smeared under your eyes. But she seems unbothered, picking at a loose thread on Bunny’s paw as she leans back like she’s been planning to hang out with you all day.

“You’re not supposed to talk to strangers, you know,” you tell her, nudging a pebble with your boot.

“You’re not a stranger,” she says matter-of-factly.

��Yeah? Who told you that?”

“Chris.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, surprised. Chris talks about me?

You’re about to ask what he said when you hear it—the unmistakable sound of someone calling her name. Sharp. Frantic. You glance up just in time to see Chris stalking toward the playground, panic written all over his face, his hood pushed back and his dark hair a mess like he ran all the way here.

“Lila,” he calls again, his voice edged with something rougher than worry, and she perks up like nothing’s wrong at all.

“Over here!” she chirps, waving one small arm above her head.

Chris’s gaze snaps to her—and then to you. He freezes mid-step, his shoulders stiffening as he takes in the scene: Lila sitting cross-legged beside you like you’re old friends, her bunny nestled in her lap, and you sitting there with your half-smoked cigarette and black nails tapping idly against your knee.

His face goes a shade darker, embarrassment settling in as he swipes a hand over his jaw.

“Lila,” he mutters, striding over and crouching down in front of her. “You can’t just run off like that. I told you to stay inside.”

“I wasn’t far,” she insists, all innocence. “You were sleeping.”

Chris shoots you a look like this is somehow your fault. You hold up your hands in surrender, amused. “Hey, don’t look at me. She found me.”

He doesn’t answer, just exhales sharply as he runs a hand through his hair. “Come on,” he says quietly to Lila, his voice softer now. “Let’s go.”

Lila pouts, clinging to Bunny. “But I like Star.”

Chris’s ears go pink, and he shoots you a glare like you’re going to make this worse somehow. You smirk, leaning back against your palms. “I didn’t kidnap her, you know.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still smoking around her,” he mutters, standing up and brushing gravel off his jeans.

You roll your eyes but drop the cigarette, grinding it into the dirt with your heel. “Happy?”

He doesn’t answer, just mumbles something under his breath as he grabs Lila’s hand. She stares up at him, unimpressed. “Chris, you’re being weird.”

“You’re being weird,” he mutters back, then freezes, realizing how stupid that sounds. He shifts uncomfortably, eyes flicking to you like he’s hoping the ground will swallow him whole.

You grin. “You guys make a good team.”

Chris glares, but it doesn’t hold much weight. He just looks tired, embarrassed, and maybe a little grateful that you didn’t make this into a thing. “Let’s go, Lila,” he mutters again, tugging her hand gently.

“Bye, Star!” Lila calls as they turn away, her curls bouncing again. “Say bye, Chris.”

Chris doesn’t say anything—he just shoves his hands in his pockets, his face turned down. But as they walk off, you think you see him glance back once, just for a second.

You don’t wave. You don’t say anything. You just smile to yourself and lean back into the silence, watching the empty swings sway in the wind.

The trailer feels smaller than usual tonight. The kind of small that presses against your ribs, suffocating you even when there’s no one in the room. But there is someone in the room—him. Sitting in his stained recliner with a half-empty beer can on the armrest, his voice a low, slurred hum of irritation that’s been building for the last ten minutes.

“Where the hell were you all day?” he spits, his words slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to corner you with each one.

You stand by the counter, jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest. “Around.”

“Around?” He laughs—short and humorless—and smacks the arm of the chair with his palm. “What’s that mean, huh? You think you can just disappear whenever you feel like it?”

“It means it’s none of your business,” you fire back, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended. You regret it as soon as his head snaps up.

His face darkens, brows pulling together as he points a finger at you. “Don’t start with me, Y/N. Not tonight. I work my assoff to keep a roof over your head, and you—”

“You sit around drinking all day,” you interrupt, your voice cracking slightly. “That’s not working your ass off, and we both know it.”

The silence that follows is loud. Too loud. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes cold and mean in the lamplight. Then he stands—slow and deliberate—and you feel your heart slam against your ribs.

“You’re lucky you’ve got a roof at all,” he growls, the words low but thick with anger. “You think anyone else would put up with you? Huh? Look at yourself. You’re a goddamn mess.”

The words hit you harder than they should, and you can’t stand to hear another one. “Screw this,” you mutter, grabbing your jacket off the back of a chair and shoving your feet into your boots.

“Where are you going?” he barks, but you’re already at the door.

“Out.”

“You come back in this house when I say—”

The door slams behind you before he can finish, the sound shaking through the frame. The cool night air hits you like a shock, sharp and sobering. You take a deep breath, letting it fill your lungs, trying to push his words out with it.

The trailer park is quiet at this hour, most of the lights turned off, the gravel beneath your boots crunching as you head toward the road. Your hands are shaking. You jam them into your jacket pockets and keep walking, letting the dark swallow you whole. You don’t know where you’re going—just that anywhere is better than here.

The gravel crunches under your boots as you storm across the trailer park, the sharp chill of the night air biting at your cheeks. Your ears are still ringing with the last echoes of your father’s voice—mess, lucky, roof—words you didn’t want to hear but couldn’t shut out.

You don’t stop walking until you see the faint orange glow of a joint flickering in the darkness.

At first, you think it’s nothing—just another shadow against the trailers—but then the low creak of metal catches your attention. A figure bends over the open hood of a car, lit faintly by the weak yellow light of the porch bulb. Chris.

His once-white wife beater is smeared with grease and oil, clinging to his skin in places where sweat’s soaked through. A red bandana—darkened with its own share of stains—hangs from the back pocket of his jeans, forgotten as he works. His dark curls are matted against his forehead, slick with sweat, and his jaw tenses slightly around the joint wedged between his lips.

You slow down without meaning to, your anger cooling just a little as you take him in. He doesn’t look up, not at first—too focused on whatever’s under the hood. But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, the way his movements seem heavy, like even this takes more energy than he has.

You clear your throat, just enough to let him know you’re there. He straightens up immediately, turning toward you, brows pulling together in that guarded way of his.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The glow of the joint brightens as he takes a drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before muttering, “You lost or something?”

His voice is rough, gruff in the way it always is, but tonight there’s a softness under it—like he doesn’t have the energy to put up too much of a front.

“No,” you answer, shoving your hands deeper into your jacket pockets. “Just… walking.”

He eyes you for a moment, his dark blue gaze lingering on the way your shoulders are hunched, the tension still obvious in your frame. He doesn’t ask any questions, though. Chris doesn’t ask questions.

“You look like shit,” he says finally, blunt as ever, but there’s no malice in it.

“So do you,” you shoot back, motioning to his grease-streaked shirt and the curls sticking to his forehead.

That earns you a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. He shakes his head slightly, pulling the joint from his lips and tapping the ash onto the ground. “Fair enough.”

The two of you fall quiet again, the only sounds the faint hum of crickets and the soft ticking of the car’s engine as it cools. Chris turns back toward the hood, wiping his hands on the bandana before tucking it into his pocket again.

“Your car broken?” you ask after a moment, just to fill the silence.

“Always is,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes still hold that tired, distant look, like he hasn’t really slept in days. “Gotta keep it running somehow.”

You nod, even though you don’t really know what else to say. He seems fine with the silence, though. Chris always does.

“Where’s Lila?” you ask softly, surprising yourself with the question.

“Inside,” he says, his voice losing some of its edge. “Sleeping.”

“She’s cute,” you offer. “She told me about Bunny.”

That earns you something—a short, rough chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair, smearing a little grease into the curls. “Yeah, she would.”

You watch him for a moment longer, his silhouette outlined against the dim light. He doesn’t look at you again, but you can tell he knows you’re still there, lingering like you’re not ready to go back yet.

“You’re out late,” he says suddenly, though his tone is careful, like he’s not trying to pry.

“So are you.”

He snorts, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

There’s something in the way he says it—a kind of resignation that makes your chest feel heavy. You look at him then, really look, and for a second it feels like neither of you have a choice. Like you’re both stuck here in this trailer park, leaning on broken cars and broken homes just to make it through the night.

“You want me to go?” you ask, though you don’t really want him to say yes.

Chris doesn’t answer right away. He takes another slow drag from his joint, staring at something in the distance before finally shaking his head. “Nah. You’re good.”

You nod, sinking down to sit on the edge of the gravel, your knees pulled up to your chest. You don’t talk. He doesn’t either. But the silence feels different now—not suffocating, not angry. Just quiet.

The quiet settles in, not quite comfortable, but not suffocating either. Chris keeps his focus on the open hood, the occasional clink of metal and soft murmur of frustration breaking the silence. You sit perched on the gravel a few feet away, elbows on your knees, your boots scuffing against the dirt. From where you are, you can see the way his arms flex as he works—lean, tense muscles moving under skin smudged with oil and sweat.

“Pass me the—” he pauses, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Shit. The socket wrench. Small one.”

You blink, staring at the scattered mess of tools in the box next to you like they’re written in another language. “Uh… sure.”

Grabbing the first thing that seems like it might work, you hold it up for inspection. Chris barely glances before shaking his head. “No. Not that. The other one. Looks like a ratchet.”

“A ratchet?” you echo, scowling at him. “I don’t know what that means.”

He sighs, muttering something under his breath before jerking his chin at the toolbox. “Silver handle. Little head. Spins.”

You frown down at the tools again, narrowing your eyes as if that’ll help. After a few seconds of trial and error, you grab one and hold it up like you’ve won a prize. “This?”

Chris finally looks up, his dark blue gaze sweeping over it before nodding once. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

You toss it to him underhand, and he catches it without breaking stride, sliding back under the hood like the conversation never happened.

“That was a total guess,” you admit, smirking a little to yourself. “I’m basically a mechanic now.”

“You’d be a shitty mechanic,” he mutters, but there’s the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.

You rest your chin on your knees, watching as he works. There’s something about the way he moves—steady, deliberate—that makes you feel calmer just sitting there. It’s like every motion has a purpose, every clink of the tools against the metal a reminder that he knows what he’s doing. You don’t see much of that in Pine View—people who actually dosomething instead of just saying they will.

After a while, he asks again. “Need the pliers.”

You hand him the needle-nose pliers without hesitation this time, earning you a glance from under his sweat-damp curls. “Quicker that time.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.

He keeps going, a low hum of focus settling around him as the minutes stretch on. You lose track of time out there, the night growing darker, the trailer park falling into a heavy kind of quiet. Every now and then, Chris adjusts his joint between his lips, inhaling slow before letting the smoke curl up into the humid air. The smell of it mixes with the sharp scent of oil and metal—something oddly familiar and grounding.

“Why’d you start working on cars?” you ask eventually, your voice low enough not to break the stillness.

Chris pauses just long enough to swipe his bandana over his forehead, leaving a darker streak across the fabric. “Didn’t have a choice,” he says simply, leaning back to check something under the hood. “Car broke, no money to fix it. You figure it out or you walk everywhere.”

“You get good at it?”

“Good enough.”

You nod like that makes perfect sense. Because it does. Pine View is full of people who have to figure it out—or don’t.

“Star.”

You blink at the sound of your name, glancing up. Chris’s hand is out, palm open. “Flathead screwdriver.”

You reach into the box again, grabbing what you think is right and handing it over. This time, Chris doesn’t even look—just takes it like he trusts you to get it right. For some reason, that makes your chest feel a little less tight.

He works for another few minutes before standing up fully, stretching out his back with a low groan. The joint’s burned down to almost nothing now, barely a flicker between his fingers. He tilts his head back, staring at the dark sky as he exhales the last drag, the smoke catching the faint glow of the porch light.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you say quietly, your voice cutting through the silence.

Chris glances down at you, dark blue eyes still holding that perpetual tiredness, though there’s something else too—something less sharp. “No.”

“That’s okay,” you reply, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “I talk enough for both of us.”

His mouth twitches like he might smile, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at you for a beat longer than he needs to, then shakes his head slightly and goes back to wiping his hands on the stained bandana.

“You should get inside,” he says eventually, his voice softer than before. “It’s late.”

“Yeah.” You don’t move.

Chris doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. He just tosses the wrench back into the toolbox with a clatter and leans against the car, his arms crossed as he stares out at the empty stretch of trailers beyond you both. You don’t know how long you sit there, quiet but not alone. Long enough for the night air to feel a little less cold. Long enough for the knots in your chest to loosen, just a little.

Chris exhales, long and slow, like he’s been thinking about something for a while before finally deciding to say it. He pushes away from the car, flicking the remains of his joint into the gravel where it smolders out. “You wanna come inside?”

You look up, surprised. “What?”

He shrugs, not quite meeting your gaze as he wipes his hands down the front of his oil-streaked shirt. “It’s not much, but I need to check on Lila, and you shouldn’t be out here alone. Place gets sketchy this time of night.”

That makes you laugh, a sharp sound that echoes a little too loudly in the quiet. “I grew up here, Chris. I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, jaw tightening, “I don’t like it.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, something flickering through you—annoyance, curiosity, maybe a bit of both. “Why do you care?”

He pauses for a beat, shoving the stained bandana back into his pocket. “I just do.”

It’s simple. Final. Like he doesn’t need to explain himself further. He glances toward the shadows stretching across the trailer park, the kind that swallow up anything just out of sight. His voice softens a little. “You don’t gotta stay out here.”

You hesitate, glancing back toward your trailer—toward him—and suddenly, being out here alone doesn’t feel so great. You hate that Chris might be right.

“It’s not that bad,” you mumble, half-hearted, because you’ve said it so many times before that it’s practically a reflex.

Chris just stares at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes steady. There’s something about him that makes you feel like you can’t lie to yourself tonight—not with him standing there, oil-slicked and sweaty, watching you like he’s already decided you’re coming inside whether you argue or not.

“Fine,” you say finally, pushing yourself to your feet. “But if your place smells like feet and motor oil, I’m leaving.”

Chris’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to smirk. “I’ll survive.”

He turns without another word, leading the way toward his trailer. You follow a few steps behind, your boots crunching in the gravel. It feels weird, letting someone look out for you—especially him. But you don’t hate it. Not tonight.

Chris doesn’t look back as he walks, but he doesn’t need to. You follow him up the short set of steps to his trailer, where the porch light flickers dimly, barely enough to cast shadows. He unlocks the door with a quiet clink, nudging it open with his shoulder.

“Watch your step,” he mutters, stepping aside to let you in first.

You hesitate for just a second before walking past him, the inside of the trailer warmer than you expected. It smells faintly of something familiar—laundry detergent, maybe—and something else beneath it: motor oil and faint smoke, a scent you’re starting to associate with him. It’s not a mess, exactly, but it’s not neat either. A stack of Lila’s drawings is scattered across the coffee table, along with an empty cereal bowl and a few crumpled fast-food napkins. On the couch sits one of Lila’s small sneakers, abandoned like she kicked it off mid-run.

Chris steps in behind you, pulling the door shut softly. “Like I said, it’s not much.”

“It’s fine,” you say, brushing off the comment as you glance around. The place feels… lived in. Not cold. Not empty. Just a little worn, like him.

Chris drops his keys on the counter, the faint clink loud in the quiet. He pulls the bandana from his pocket again and wipes the sweat from his neck before tossing it into a laundry basket near the door. Then he jerks his chin toward the couch. “Sit if you want. I’ll be quick.”

You hover awkwardly for a second before perching on the edge of the couch cushion. It’s softer than it looks. You glance down at the drawings scattered across the coffee table—crayon sketches of flowers, some wonky-looking animals, and a big house with stick figures holding hands in front of it. You feel something in your chest pull a little.

Chris disappears down the narrow hall toward the back room, where the soft sound of a door creaking open reaches your ears. You hear him moving, his voice low and quiet—gentler than you’d expect.

“Lila?” A beat. “You good?”

There’s no response that you can hear, but after a moment, his footsteps return, slower this time. He reappears in the doorway, running a hand through his damp curls, leaving behind a streak of oil he doesn’t seem to notice.

“She’s still out,” he says, like he needs to explain himself. “Sleeps through anything.”

You nod, not sure what to say. Chris lingers for a second, his dark blue eyes flicking to you as he crosses the room and drops into the recliner across from you. He leans back, stretching one arm along the armrest as he exhales through his nose.

“Sorry,” he mutters, though you’re not sure what for. “About earlier. I didn’t mean to—” He stops himself, frowning slightly before shaking his head. “Forget it.”

You look at him, watching the way he slouches into the chair like he’s just done. Done with the day, done with the car, done with everything. You shrug, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “It’s fine. You didn’t do anything.”

Chris glances at you, his tired gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he looks away, staring somewhere past you. The porch light outside casts shadows across his face, making the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones stand out even more. He looks like he’s about to say something, but doesn’t.

Instead, the two of you just sit there, the silence stretching out again—but it’s not the heavy, tense kind that makes you want to bolt. It’s different. Quieter. Settled. You find yourself relaxing into the couch without realizing it, the weight of the night finally easing off your shoulders.

“Why were you out there?” he asks eventually, his voice low but even.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Earlier,” he says, not looking at you. “In the dark, walking around by yourself.”

Your stomach twists slightly, the fight with your dad flashing through your mind like a bruise you’re not ready to touch. You pick at the loose threads in the cushion beneath your hand. “Just… needed air.”

Chris doesn’t push. He just nods slowly, like he gets it—like he’s been there before. “Yeah.”

You glance over at him, at the tired set of his shoulders and the dark circles beneath his eyes. The small house Lila drew on the table catches your eye again, and you wonder how often he feels like this—like the walls are closing in, like there’s nowhere to go but out.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

Chris looks at you, brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

You shrug, looking down at your hands. “Not letting me sit out there.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can feel his gaze linger on you. “Yeah. Sure.”

You look up, and for a second, you swear he’s about to smile—but then he blinks, the moment slipping away, and he stands up abruptly. “I’ll get you something to drink. You want water or…?”

“Water’s fine.”

Chris nods and disappears into the small kitchen. You listen to the sound of cabinets opening, the faint clang of glass against the counter. You exhale slowly, letting yourself sink deeper into the couch. The soft clink of glass fills the space as Chris moves around the kitchen, his footsteps heavy against the trailer floor. You lean back further into the couch, the quiet hum of the place settling over you like a blanket. It feels strange to be here, strange in the way that something too normal feels after a fight. Like you’ve slipped sideways into someone else’s night, someone else’s life.

When Chris returns, he hands you a glass of water without a word, his fingers brushing yours briefly before he drops back into his chair. He sits forward this time, elbows on his knees, his oil-streaked hands hanging loosely between them. He looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he just sighs and drags a hand through his curls again—only smearing more grease into them.

“You’ve got…” You motion vaguely to your head. “Oil. Everywhere.”

Chris snorts under his breath and wipes at it with his wrist, only making it worse. “Yeah, well. Comes with the job.” He tilts his head slightly, shooting you a dry look. “You offerin’ t’fix it?”

You grin faintly. “Nah. Not much of a stylist.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Silence stretches again, but it’s different this time—less heavy, less awkward. Chris leans back again, his head tipping against the back of the chair, eyes flickering shut for a second. His chest rises and falls steadily, like he’s trying to take one decent breath after a long day.

“Lila likes you,” he says suddenly, eyes still closed.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“She said so,” he mutters, cracking one eye open to glance at you. “Said you were ‘cool.’ And that Bunny likes you too.”

That makes you smile. You think about Lila earlier, her little face so serious as she introduced you to her torn-eared rabbit, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in your chest. “Well, Bunny’s got good taste.”

Chris huffs a quiet laugh, though it’s more air than sound. “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I won’t.” You sip from the glass, watching him carefully. There’s something about the way he talks about Lila—soft, careful, like he knows how fragile she is. “You take care of her a lot?”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. He stares at a spot on the floor like he’s deciding what to say. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta.”

It’s simple, but there’s so much weight behind it—like those three words carry everything he doesn’t say. Because Mom can’t. Because it’s just us. Because no one else will. You don’t press, though. You don’t need to.

“I get it,” you say softly, though you’re not sure if you’re talking about him or yourself.

Chris looks at you then, really looks, like he’s seeing you in a different light. His blue eyes are darker in the dim room, but there’s something softer in them too, something quieter. He doesn’t say anything, just nods faintly before pushing himself to his feet.

“Lila’ll freak if you wake her up,” he mutters, moving toward the hallway. “I’ll grab you a blanket or something.”

You sit up straighter, blinking. “Wait—what?”

He pauses, turning back with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not walking back. Not this late.”

“I can handle it,” you argue, though the idea of going back to your trailer, to him, makes your stomach twist.

Chris doesn’t budge. “It’s fine. Couch isn’t great, but it’s better than walking through this dump alone.” He hesitates, frowning slightly before adding, “It’s just a couch. Don’t get weird about it.”

You don’t know why that makes you feel so seen—like he already knew you’d argue, like he already knew you wouldn’t want to ask for this. You glance at the coffee table again, at the crayon drawings of flowers and houses, at the empty sneaker, at the life that’s been built here in pieces.

“Fine,” you mumble, leaning back into the cushions like you’re totally unaffected. “But if you snore, I’m out.”

Chris rolls his eyes as he turns toward the back room. “You won’t hear me.”

You don’t argue with him this time. Instead, you let yourself settle in, the glass of water still cool in your hand. The hum of the trailer settles back over you, and for once, it doesn’t feel like a trap. It feels… still.

And you think maybe, just maybe, you won’t hear anything tonight except the quiet.

Chris disappears down the narrow hallway, leaving you alone in the quiet hum of the trailer. You sit there, awkwardly at first, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion while the faint creak of a door opening echoes down the hall. A minute later, he reappears, holding a crumpled blanket that looks like it’s been shoved into a closet for months. He tosses it onto the couch beside you with a quick, almost sheepish motion.

“Here,” he mutters. “Best I’ve got.”

You grab it before it slides onto the floor, and as soon as you do, you catch the smell—familiar in a way you can’t quite place. Faint cigarette smoke. A hint of motor oil. That sharp scent of clean laundry that only barely cuts through it. Your fingers sink into the worn fabric, and for some reason, it makes your chest feel tight. Like you’re holding something you shouldn’t, something that feels too close.

“You good?” Chris asks, pausing halfway to the hallway.

You look up quickly, masking whatever you were feeling. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Chris doesn’t press. He just nods, running a hand through his curls again and grimacing when his fingers catch on something sticky—probably more oil. “I’m gonna shower. Don’t break anything.”

“I’ll try not to,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

He disappears again, the sound of the bathroom door closing behind him followed by the hiss of old pipes groaning to life. You hear the water turn on a moment later, a dull rush that fills the silence in the trailer.

For a moment, you just sit there, fingers still curled around the blanket, your thoughts drifting to the fight you left behind. To your dad’s voice, sharp and cutting. To the slamming door and the way your own breathing felt too loud as you stepped outside. Now, wrapped up in the dim light of Chris’s space, it all feels distant—like the anger’s been stripped from it, leaving only exhaustion behind.

Your eyes drift to the coffee table again—Lila’s crayon drawings spread out in a messy stack, one page overlapping the next. You see the house again, the one she drew with thick brown walls and a triangle roof, stick figures holding hands out front. The tallest one has curls. Chris. The little one has bunny ears sticking out of her head. Lila.

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, chewing the inside of your cheek as curiosity tugs at the edge of your mind. The water’s still running—Chris is still in the shower—and the rest of the trailer feels so still, so there.

You stand, moving quietly toward the small kitchen area. A couple of dishes sit in the sink, one of them holding a soggy cereal spoon. There’s an unopened box of crackers on the counter next to a stack of overdue bills, their edges curled and frayed. Your gaze drifts up to a corkboard tacked to the wall, cluttered with half-pinned papers and reminders scrawled in Chris’s sharp, blocky handwriting. Some of them are grocery lists.

Milk, cereal, ramen. Lila likes those gummy worms.

You don’t realize you’re smiling until you catch yourself, your lips twitching faintly as you step back. Something about it feels real—this life he’s patching together out of lists and leftovers and old blankets shoved into corners.

You glance back toward the hall, listening to the faint trickle of the shower. He’s still in there.

Your curiosity pulls you to the corner of the living room, where a few of Chris’s sketches are piled on a small, dented table. You hover for a second, your fingers twitching at your sides. Then, slowly, you reach out and pick up the top sheet.

It’s a charcoal drawing—a skull, its shadows so deep and detailed it almost looks three-dimensional. Around it, faint flowers bloom from cracks in the bone, the petals shaded with the kind of precision that makes your breath catch. You flip to the next one, another skull—this time paired with thorny vines, curling around its hollow eye sockets. There’s something beautiful and haunting about it, something that feels him.

You hear the pipes groan again, the water pressure shifting slightly, and you freeze. Carefully, you place the sketches back where you found them and return to the couch, sinking down quickly with the blanket still bunched in your lap.

The shower cuts off, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint drip of water before the pipes settle again. You lean back into the cushions, forcing your gaze on the ceiling as you try to ignore the way your chest feels—like you’ve seen something you weren’t supposed to. Like you’ve been let in, just a little, to a world Chris doesn’t show anyone.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door creaks open, and Chris’s footsteps shuffle back down the hallway. You glance over to see him in a clean shirt—this one black and loose—his curls still damp and sticking to his forehead. He pauses when he sees you sitting exactly where he left you, the blanket tucked around your shoulders.

“You didn’t snoop, did you?” he asks, but there’s no real bite to it—just the same dry, tired Chris.

“Nope,” you say quickly, looking at the TV like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

He eyes you for a moment, like he doesn’t quite believe you, but then he shakes his head and drops back into his chair with a groan. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You don’t answer. You just tuck the blanket tighter around yourself and let your gaze flicker toward the window, where the night outside feels a little less lonely than it did an hour ago.

Chris doesn’t say anything for a while, settling deeper into the recliner with that same tired look he always seems to carry. You hear the springs creak faintly under his weight, the sound filling the space where conversation might go. You don’t mind. The quiet feels easier now, softer somehow.

You adjust the blanket in your lap, the familiar smell still lingering. It’s strange—almost comforting—but it makes your chest ache a little, like it knows something about you that you don’t want to admit.

Chris catches you staring at the window. “What, you scared of the dark now?”

You glance at him, rolling your eyes. “No.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You open your mouth to fire something back, but when you see him leaning back like that, his arms hanging loosely over the chair’s sides, you lose your edge. There’s no malice in his words—just something dry and unbothered, like he’s filling the silence out of habit.

“What’s your deal with this place anyway?” you ask suddenly, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “You hate it or what?”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. He tips his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling like the answer’s written somewhere in the shadows there. “What do you think?”

“I think you don’t say much of anything,” you shoot back, though there’s no bite to it.

He huffs softly through his nose, his mouth twitching like he might smirk. “What’s there to say? It’s a dump. Same as everywhere else.”

You watch him carefully, the way his gaze stays fixed on a crack in the ceiling, the way his fingers twitch faintly where they rest. “Does Lila know that?”

Chris’s jaw tenses slightly, but he doesn’t look at you. “No.”

“Good,” you say simply, leaning back into the couch. “Because she seems pretty happy here.”

That gets him to glance at you, his blue eyes darker in the dim light. For a moment, he just stares, his gaze heavy but unreadable, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re saying any of this. Then he shakes his head, muttering, “You’re weird.”

“Thanks,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Chris snorts quietly, the sound barely there, before running a hand through his damp curls. “Don’t make it sound like some big secret, alright? Lila thinks it’s good here because I want her to think that. That’s all.”

You don’t respond right away. The weight behind his words settles between you both, and you realize there’s nothing easy about what he’s carrying—not the trailer, not Lila, not the quiet resentment that simmers behind everything he does.

“Doesn’t mean you’re wrong,” you say finally, surprising even yourself.

Chris looks at you again, brow furrowing slightly. “About what?”

“That it’s a dump,” you say simply, shrugging. “But sometimes dumps are all you’ve got.”

He watches you for a second longer, like he wants to argue, like he wants to say something, but the words never come. Instead, he just shifts in his chair, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah.”

The clock ticks faintly on the far wall, the sound almost loud in the quiet. You pull the blanket tighter around yourself again, letting its familiar scent wrap around you. Chris doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you. But you don’t leave, either.

Instead, you sit there in the dim light, the shadows stretching longer, the quiet settling deep into your bones. For the first time all night, you don’t feel like you need to go anywhere.

The stillness stretches, not heavy, but weighted—like it knows it belongs there. Chris leans further into the recliner, his head tipped back and his breathing even, almost like he’s teetering on the edge of sleep. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there, only that the world outside feels far away. Even the sound of your father’s voice, still echoing faintly in the back of your mind, has been drowned out by the faint hum of the trailer and the way the room seems to hold its breath.

Your gaze drifts over to Chris again, your eyes catching on the rise and fall of his chest. For once, the tension in his shoulders seems to have let go, his face softer without its usual guarded edge. He’s got that same kind of tired look he always carries, like sleep doesn’t come easy, but here, in the quiet of his own space, it doesn’t seem to bother him as much.

And you don’t know why, but something about it makes your chest ache.

You pull the blanket closer around you, sinking further into the couch, the worn fabric soft against your hands. It’s not just the smell that’s familiar anymore—it’s the feeling. A kind of warmth that comes from something lived in, something that’s been through its share of wear and tear but hasn’t fallen apart yet. It makes you feel strangely safe, even if you don’t want to admit it. Even if you haven’t felt that way in a long time.

From across the room, Chris’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and slightly groggy. “You’re staring.”

You blink, jolted back to the moment. Chris doesn’t move much—his head still leans against the back of the recliner—but one blue eye cracks open, catching you in the act.

“Was not,” you mutter, defensive but not sharp.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, that familiar hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re a shitty liar.”

“You’ve said that already,” you fire back, but there’s no real heat in it.

Chris just snorts softly, letting his eyes slip shut again. For a moment, you think he’s going to drift off completely, the slow rhythm of his breathing filling the silence. Then he speaks again, quieter this time.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.”

You glance at him, frowning slightly. “Hm?”

His voice stays even, but there’s something softer underneath. “Here. I’m not… I didn’t mean to keep you or anything.”

“M’fine,” you say quickly, because you are. Or maybe you just don’t want to leave. “It’s better than…” You stop yourself, biting back the words better than home.

Chris doesn’t press you. He never does. Instead, he shifts slightly in the recliner, turning his head toward you without opening his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

Another beat of quiet settles, and you let your eyes drift back to the coffee table, where one of Lila’s crayon drawings peeks out from the pile. It’s not much—just a bright yellow sun with wobbly beams stretching out from the center—but it feels important somehow. Like it’s holding something together.

“You take care of her,” you say softly, surprising yourself.

Chris hums faintly, like he’s not sure if it’s a question or not. “Yeah.”

“You’re good at it,” you add, even softer.

Chris doesn’t respond right away, but when he does, his voice is quieter than you’ve heard it all night. “Not really.”

You don’t argue, but you don’t agree either. Because you see it—the way Lila lights up when she’s around him, the way her drawings seem to fill the space he doesn’t talk about. It’s the kind of care you don’t see in most people, the kind that doesn’t get shown off but sits there, constant and steady.

Chris doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t push. Instead, you sink back into the couch again, the blanket pulled up to your chin, and let the quiet return. The hum of the trailer wraps around both of you, its walls creaking faintly with the settling night.

The quiet stretches out again, and for the first time all night, it feels like you can actually breathe. Chris’s breathing evens out too, slower now, like he’s on the verge of slipping into sleep. His head tilts to one side, his curls damp and messy against his forehead, and his arms hang loosely over the sides of the recliner.

For a moment, you think he’s finally out—but then he jerks awake slightly, his eyes flickering open as he shifts in his seat. He sits up straighter, blinking at you like he’s trying to shake off the drowsiness.

“You good?” he mutters, his voice rougher now, thicker with sleep.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, adjusting the blanket over your lap. “I’m fine.”

He studies you for a second, his blue eyes narrowed slightly like he doesn’t quite believe you. You glance away, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, but it doesn’t help. You know what he’s looking at—your face, the way it’s probably giving you away, showing everything you don’t want to admit.

Chris leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That couch isn’t great,” he says quietly, nodding toward the lumpy cushions beneath you. “You’re not used to it.”

“It’s fine,” you say again, sharper this time, even though the ache in your chest isn’t from the couch at all. It’s from everything else—the fight, the words, the way your own home feels like a warzone every time you walk through the door. But you can’t say that. Not to him.

Chris doesn’t look convinced. His brows furrow slightly, his hand raking through his curls again as he thinks. Finally, he stands, stretching his arms over his head before motioning toward the back of the trailer.

“Take the bed,” he says simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You blink up at him, startled. “What?”

“The bed,” he repeats, like it’s obvious. “It’s better than this. You’ll sleep better.”

“I’m not taking your bed,” you shoot back, frowning at him. “You’re already letting me crash here. I’m not—”

“Star,” he cuts you off, his voice calm but firm. “S’fine. I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“That’s not the point,” you argue, but the look he gives you stops you mid-sentence. It’s not harsh or annoyed—it’s steady, like he’s already decided and there’s no point in fighting him.

“I’m not doing it for me,” he says quietly, his blue eyes holding yours. “You’re not fine, and we both know it.”

You feel your chest tighten at his words, and for a second, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, you can tell, but hearing it out loud makes it harder to keep the walls up. You glance down at the blanket, your fingers curling into the fabric.

“It’s not the couch,” you mumble, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Chris exhales slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I know.”

You look up at him, surprised. He shrugs, leaning back against the edge of the recliner. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just saying… if it helps, take the bed. I’ll stay out here.”

His words hang in the air, heavy but not suffocating. You know he means it—there’s no pity in his voice, no expectation, just an offering. A way to let you breathe, even if it’s only for a night.

After a long pause, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Chris nods too, his expression unreadable but softer somehow. He gestures toward the hallway again. “Door on the right. Sheets are clean.”

You stand, still clutching the blanket around your shoulders, and glance back at him before heading toward the hall. He’s already moving back toward the couch, grabbing another blanket off the back of the recliner as he settles in.

“Chris,” you say softly, pausing in the doorway.

He looks up, his gaze steady but tired. “What?”

“Thanks,” you say, your voice cracking just enough for him to notice.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just nods once before leaning back into the couch. “Yeah. Get some sleep.”

You step into the room, the door clicking softly behind you. The bed is small but neatly made, the faint smell of his cologne lingering on the sheets. You climb in slowly, sinking into the mattress as the weight of the night finally starts to lift.

You lie on the bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling. The mattress is soft, and the faint scent of Chris—cologne, smoke, and something earthy you can’t quite place—lingers on the sheets. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s enough to make you feel a little… uneasy. Not in a bad way, just in a way that makes your chest feel too tight, like you don’t quite deserve the comfort of it.

Your eyes wander around the room, taking it in. It’s simple, like the rest of the trailer—just a dresser against the far wall, a few scattered shirts peeking out from an open drawer. There’s a sketchbook on the bedside table, its edges worn, with a pencil lying haphazardly across it. The walls are bare, except for a single framed photo on the dresser. You squint, barely making out the image of a younger Chris with Lila perched on his shoulders, her wide grin almost overshadowing his reluctant one.

You roll onto your side, tucking the blanket tighter around you, but the guilt creeps in anyway. The bed feels too warm, too good, too… his. You stare at the faint light seeping in through the cracks of the door, imagining him out there on the couch, probably just as tired as you but too stubborn to admit it.

You sigh, sitting up and rubbing a hand over your face. The thought of him trying to sleep in that lumpy old recliner makes your stomach twist, and before you can overthink it, you push the blanket off and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

The trailer is quiet when you open the door. The faint light from the kitchen spills into the living room, casting shadows over the couch where Chris is stretched out, one arm thrown over his face. His blanket barely covers him, the edges falling short of his feet.

You hover for a second, second-guessing yourself, but then you take a step forward and clear your throat softly. “Chris.”

He stirs, his arm dropping slightly so his eyes—half-lidded and groggy—meet yours. “What?” he mutters, his voice low and thick with sleep.

“You don’t have to sleep out here,” you say quickly, before you lose your nerve. “I mean—you can come back. To the bed. Just… separate blankets or whatever.”

He blinks at you, his brows furrowing slightly as he pushes himself up onto one elbow. “What?”

“I feel bad,” you admit, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s your bed. You shouldn’t have to give it up.”

Chris stares at you for a moment, like he’s trying to process what you’re saying, before shaking his head slightly. “S’fine, Star. I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” you interrupt, frowning at him. “But you look just as wrecked as I feel, so stop being stubborn and come back there. I’m not gonna bite.”

That earns you a faint snort, though his face is still guarded. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, trying to play it cool even though your chest feels tight again. “It’s just one night. You don’t have to sleep on that deathtrap.”

Chris hesitates, running a hand through his curls as he considers it. Finally, he sighs and swings his legs off the couch, standing up and grabbing his blanket. “Separate blankets,” he mutters, his voice dry but not unkind.

“Obviously,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes as you head back toward the room.

Chris follows, his footsteps quiet behind you. The bed feels smaller when you climb back in, scooting to one side as he drops his blanket on the other. He doesn’t say anything as he settles in, lying stiffly on his back with his own blanket pulled up to his chest.

The silence stretches out again, but this time it feels heavier, more aware of itself. You stare at the ceiling, your heartbeat a little too loud in your ears.

“Thanks,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris doesn’t look at you, but his voice is low and steady when he replies. “Yeah. Go to sleep, Star.”

You close your eyes, the faint sound of his breathing filling the room. And somehow, with him there, the weight on your chest feels just a little bit lighter.

The room is quiet except for the faint creak of the trailer settling and the steady rhythm of Chris’s breathing. You lie on your side, facing away from him, staring at the faint outlines of the dresser in the dark. The guilt and awkwardness of earlier fade slowly, replaced by the steady calm of his presence just a foot away. His breathing evens out after a while, the tension in his frame melting as sleep takes over. You hear him shift once, settling deeper into the mattress, his quiet exhale signaling that he’s finally out.

You don’t know when your own eyes drift shut, but when they do, the room falls into a stillness that swallows you whole. The bed, the space, the faint hum of his existence next to you—it all pulls you under like a tide.

Chris stirs at first light, groggy and disoriented, the sharp pang of something warm and heavy on his chest dragging him out of sleep. He blinks, squinting against the pale light seeping through the blinds, his mind sluggish as he tries to figure out what’s wrong. It takes a second for him to register it—why his left arm feels pinned, why the blanket he remembers pulling over himself is now somewhere at the foot of the bed.

And then he sees her.

Star.

She’s not in her designated zone. Not even close. Her head rests against his chest, her face relaxed, lips slightly parted as soft snores escape her. One of her arms is draped lazily across his stomach, and her leg—barely covered by her own blanket—has somehow tangled with his.

Chris freezes, his breath catching in his throat as he stares down at her. His mind races in a million directions, but none of them seem to help the situation. She looks so… soft. Completely out of place from the sharp, sarcastic edges she normally carries like armor. Her messy hair is splayed across his shirt, a few strands tickling his chin, and her face is tilted just enough that he can see the faint rise and fall of her chest, the slow rhythm of her breathing.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, careful not to move too much.

He’s not sure how this happened—how she ended up here, draped over him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Part of him wants to wake her up, to shift her back to her side of the bed before she realizes what she’s done. But another part—the part he’s trying hard to ignore—can’t bring himself to disturb her. She looks… peaceful. More peaceful than he’s ever seen her.

Chris glances toward the door, half-hoping for some kind of escape route, but there’s no way out of this without waking her. He sighs quietly, his chest rising under her weight, and lets his head fall back against the pillow.

The warmth of her against him is distracting—too distracting. He feels her breath ghost over his collarbone, soft and steady, and it makes his throat tighten. Her hand shifts slightly, her fingers twitching against his side, and he has to clench his jaw to keep himself still.

This is fine, he tells himself, though the heat creeping up his neck says otherwise. She’s asleep. She doesn’t know.

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to will himself back to calm, but it’s impossible. Every breath she takes, every slight movement, pulls his focus right back to her.

Finally, he mutters under his breath again, quieter this time. “Shit.”

Chris leans his head back against the pillow, his body still stiff beneath her weight. He doesn’t move, just lets his tired gaze drift down to her face. There’s something almost strange about seeing her like this—so quiet, so still, so… unguarded. It’s a far cry from the sharp edges and quick comebacks he’s come to expect.

His eyes linger on her lips, parted just enough for her soft, even breaths to brush against his chest. That’s when he notices them—two new piercings he definitely didn’t see last night. A small hoop glinting faintly from just under the curve of her upper lip, tucked near the corner of her mouth. And below that, in the center of her bottom lip, another piercing—vertical, the shiny ends of a barbell catching the early light filtering through the blinds.

Chris furrows his brow slightly, the sluggish haze of sleep keeping his thoughts slow. He wonders when she had the time—or the nerve—to get them done. He thinks about her rambling about something ridiculous like piercing her own face and winces faintly at the possibility that she actually did.

He doesn’t even realize he’s been staring until his own exhaustion starts to creep back in, the steady warmth of her body pulling him under. He blinks once, then twice, his lids growing heavier with each passing second. The last thing he registers before sleep claims him is the quiet sound of her breathing, the faint weight of her resting against him.

Chris isn’t sure how long he’s out before the door bursts open with a bang, jolting him awake.

“Chris! Waffles! I want—”

Lila’s voice cuts off sharply, replaced by an ear-piercing squeal that makes him wince. His eyes snap open, his mind catching up slower than his body as he registers the weight still pressed against him—and the very smug expression on Lila’s face standing in the doorway.

“Lila,” he groans, his voice rough with sleep, “what the hell?”

“Chris!” she shrieks again, pointing dramatically at the bed. “What are you doing?”

Chris looks down to find Star still half-asleep on his chest, her head nestled there like she belongs. Her lips part slightly, a faint mumble slipping out as she stirs, her fingers twitching against his side. And just like that, the heat that had started creeping up his neck earlier comes rushing back in full force.

“Lila, get out!” he snaps, his voice louder now as he tries to sit up, but Star shifts against him, groaning softly as her eyes flutter open.

She blinks blearily, her face inches from his chest, before realization sets in. Her head jerks up, her eyes wide as she scrambles back to her side of the bed, yanking her blanket around her like a shield. “What the—Chris?”

“It wasn’t me!” Chris blurts, his voice defensive as he throws his hands up. “You were—you just—”

Lila is practically bouncing on her toes now, her squeals turning into giggles as she clutches Bunny to her chest. “You two were cuddling!”

“We were not,” Chris says firmly, glaring at her as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Go wait in the kitchen, Lila.”

“But you were sleeping together!” she insists, her giggles growing louder.

Star groans, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my God.”

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “I swear to God, Lila, if you don’t—”

“Waffles!” Lila announces, spinning on her heel and darting out of the room, her laughter echoing down the hall.

Chris exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping as the room falls silent again. He glances over at Star, who’s still wrapped tightly in her blanket, her face buried in her hands. Her hair’s a mess, sticking up at odd angles, and there’s a red crease on her cheek from the pillow—or, more likely, his chest.

“You good?” he asks after a beat, his voice low and gruff.

Star groans into her hands. “Absolutely not.”

He huffs out a dry laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Could’ve been worse.”

She finally peeks out from behind her hands, glaring at him. “Worse than your little sister catching us in the world’s most awkward position and making it sound ten times worse? Sure. Let me know when that happens.”

Chris smirks faintly, leaning back against the edge of the dresser. “She’s six. She’ll forget about it by lunchtime.”

“You sure about that?” Star mutters, pulling the blanket tighter around herself like it’ll somehow shield her from the sheer embarrassment radiating through her body.

“Not even a little,” he admits, shrugging. “But it’s not like she’s gonna tell anyone. What’s she gonna do, run to the neighbors?”

Star lets out a dry laugh, finally dropping her hands to her lap. “I don’t even care about that. I just—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “Forget it.”

Chris doesn’t press, but his tired gaze lingers on her for a moment longer, studying the way her shoulders are still hunched under the blanket. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know.”

She snorts softly, brushing her messy hair back from her face. “I think your sister would disagree.”

“Lila’s six,” he says again, pushing himself off the dresser. “She also thinks Bunny’s alive. Not exactly a credible source.”

That earns him the faintest smile, though she quickly hides it by ducking her head. He sighs, raking a hand through his curls as he nods toward the door.

“Come on,” he mutters. “You might as well eat something before she makes this worse.”

Star looks up at him, her eyebrows raising. “She’s gonna make it worse?”

“Oh, I definitely lied,” Chris says, smirking faintly. “This’ll be all she talks about for days.”

She groans, throwing the blanket off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Great. Can’t wait.”

Chris doesn’t respond, just turns toward the door and heads into the hall. Star follows a second later, still trying to shake off the awkwardness of waking up where she definitely wasn’t supposed to be.

When they reach the kitchen, Lila’s already at the table, Bunny perched on the edge like he’s part of the conversation. She grins at them as they walk in, her greenish-brown eyes sparkling with barely-contained glee.

“You guys were cuddling,” she announces again, just in case anyone forgot.

Chris groans, opening a cabinet to grab the waffle mix. “Drop it, Lila.”

“But it was so cute,” she insists, swinging her legs under the table. “Like you were best friends or something.”

“Drop it,” he says again, though his voice lacks any real heat.

Star slides into the chair across from Lila, her face still warm but her smirk returning. “You’re relentless, kid.”

Lila shrugs, flashing her a cheeky grin. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Chris snorts as he measures the mix into a bowl. “Don’t let it go to your head, Star.”

“Too late,” she fires back, and for the first time in a long time, the smile that spreads across her face feels easy.

Lila chatters away like a radio stuck on full volume, her words tumbling out so fast you can barely keep up. She’s already telling you about Bunny’s “big adventures” this week—apparently, he had to “save the day” when her friend’s toy broke at school—and you nod along, biting back a grin as she gestures wildly, her curls bouncing with every word.

Across the tiny kitchen, Chris stands at the counter, methodically sliding frozen Eggo waffles into the toaster. He doesn’t say much, just glances over his shoulder every so often to make sure neither of you are about to set something on fire.

“Star,” Lila says suddenly, leaning forward and propping her chin on her hands. “Do you like waffles?”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, glancing at Chris. “Who doesn’t?”

“Right?” Lila says, throwing her hands up like it’s a universal truth. “Chris makes the best waffles.”

You snort softly, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does he now?”

Chris rolls his eyes, pulling a plate from the cabinet. “They’re frozen, Star. Let’s not get crazy.”

“Yeah, but you put the good stuff on them,” Lila insists, beaming as she watches him grab a jar of Nutella. “That’s what makes them the best.”

Chris sighs but doesn’t argue, twisting the jar open and slathering a thick layer of Nutella over the steaming waffles. He grabs a banana from the counter, slicing it with the precision of someone who’s clearly done this routine a hundred times before. When he’s finished, he pours a cup of strawberry milk and sets everything on the table in front of Lila.

“Here,” he mutters, sliding the plate and cup over. “Knock yourself out.”

You watch, wide-eyed, as Lila digs in immediately, taking a huge bite and humming with exaggerated delight. Chris catches the look on your face and smirks faintly, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Nutella? Bananas? Strawberry milk?” you say, motioning to Lila’s plate like it’s some kind of luxury breakfast. “You’re gonna have her bouncing off the walls.”

Chris shrugs, his smirk growing. “Almond moms would probably kill me, but I don’t have the energy to fight a six-year-old over food. Besides,” he adds, nodding toward Lila, “she’d win.”

Lila grins, her cheeks already sticky with Nutella. “I’m unstoppable!”

You laugh, shaking your head as Chris grabs another pair of waffles from the toaster and slaps them onto a plate. This time, he doesn’t bother with the toppings, just slides the plain ones across the table toward you.

“Sorry,” he says, smirking as he sets a butter knife down beside you. “You don’t rate the deluxe version.”

“Gee, thanks,” you reply, but your smile lingers as you pick up the knife and start spreading butter over the still-warm waffles.

Lila kicks her feet happily under the table, pausing only to take a long sip of her strawberry milk before launching into another story—this one about a school art project Chris apparently helped her with. You glance at him, raising an eyebrow, and he just shrugs, his tired eyes softening slightly as he watches her ramble.

It’s loud and chaotic, but as you sit there, listening to Lila’s endless chatter and the faint clatter of Chris cleaning up at the counter, you realize it doesn’t feel overwhelming. It feels warm. Familiar. Like maybe this is what mornings are supposed to be.

Lila clings to your arm like she’s physically trying to anchor you to the trailer. Her curls are wild from the morning’s chaos, and there’s still a faint smudge of Nutella at the corner of her mouth as she pouts up at you.

“Don’t go!” she whines, her voice teetering on the edge of dramatic. “You just got here!”

“I’ve been here all night, kid,” you say with a small laugh, gently prying her fingers off your sleeve. “I’ve gotta go. I’ve got plans.”

“But Bunny likes you!” she insists, holding up her stuffed rabbit like it’s a compelling argument. “He says you should stay.”

Chris, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, rolls his eyes. “Bunny doesn’t pay rent, Lila. He doesn’t get a vote.”

Lila glares at him but turns back to you, her greenish-brown eyes wide with determination. “Stay for just a little longer? Please?”

You crouch down to her level, your hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “I wish I could, but my friend Madison’s waiting for me. I promised her.”

Lila’s pout deepens, and for a second, you think she might actually cry. Chris clears his throat from behind her, his tone dry but not unkind. “Star’s gotta go, Lila. You’ll see her again.”

“You promise?” she asks, turning to look at him, her voice suddenly softer.

Chris’s gaze flicks to you briefly before nodding. “Yeah. She’ll come back.”

You stand, glancing at him, and there’s something unspoken in the way he meets your eyes. He doesn’t say it, but you can tell he means it—that he expects you to follow through.

“Of course I will,” you say, ruffling Lila’s curls. “Who else is gonna hear about Bunny’s next big adventure?”

That earns you a small, reluctant smile from Lila, though she still looks a little heartbroken. “Okay,” she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chris straightens up from the doorframe, opening the door and nodding toward the gravel outside. “I’ll walk you out.”

You grab your jacket from the back of the couch and follow him, Lila trailing behind until Chris gives her a look that sends her back inside with one last wistful wave. The morning sun is brighter now, cutting through the cool air as you step onto the porch.

Chris steps down after you, his hands shoved into his pockets. “She’s dramatic, in case you didn’t notice.”

“She’s sweet,” you counter, glancing back at the trailer. “You’re lucky to have her.”

His jaw tenses slightly, but he nods, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah. I know.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the sound of the gravel crunching faintly under your boots as you shift your weight. Finally, you glance at him, tilting your head slightly.

“You’re not gonna get all sappy, are you?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Chris smirks faintly, his tired eyes narrowing slightly. “Not a chance.”

You grin, pulling your jacket tighter around you as you take a step toward the road. “See you around, Chris.”

He nods, leaning back against the porch railing. “Yeah. Take it easy.”

As you walk away, you can still feel his gaze lingering on your back. And even though the morning feels a little too bright, a little too sharp, you find yourself smiling as you head toward Madison’s.

AUTHORS NOTE: can you tell i have some time on my hands today…

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams

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darksturnz · 5 months ago

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── ⋮ ⌗ AFTER THE STORM. . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

chapter 14

CONTENTS:・angsty fluff????-heavy plot ・grief & emotional exhaustion ・hospital setting ・tense father/daughter dynamic (implied) ・lingering trauma ・soft intimacy +++ more WC: 2.5k

Chris wakes up slowly, not because he wants to but because something in him won’t let him move. His arm is numb, his neck is stiff from the way he’s been laying, but none of that matters.

Star is still pressed into him, her face tucked against his chest, her body heavy in a way that tells him she’s really out. Not just asleep, but the kind of exhausted that lingers in your bones.

He blinks, adjusting his head slightly, and watches her. Her lashes are still damp from the night before, her breathing a little uneven, her fingers curled into the hem of his shirt like she never let go. That part gets him the most. He thinks about last night, about the way she collapsed into him, the way she let everything out and then let him hold her through it.

Something aches deep in his chest, a feeling he’s grown accustomed to around Star.

He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to wake her, so he just stays there, barely breathing, just existing with her like this.

Then he hears the quiet shuffle of small feet in the hallway.

Lila appears in the doorway, rubbing one eye, Bunny clutched to her chest. She’s still in her pajamas, her hair wild from sleep, and she blinks at them for a few seconds like she’s trying to figure out the situation.

“Star still sleepy?” she whispers.

Chris doesn’t say anything, just gives her a slow nod. Lila steps closer, climbing up onto the bed carefully, slipping in on Star’s other side without hesitation. She doesn’t shake her awake, doesn’t try to talk to her. She just settles in, small fingers gently threading through Star’s hair.

Chris watches it happen. Watches how Lila—only six years old—just knows that Star needs this. That she needs softness. That she needs someone to take care of her for once.

He swallows around something thick in his throat and lets them be.

They stay like that for a while. Lila keeps playing with Star’s hair, twirling it around her small fingers the same way Star does to her, murmuring something under her breath, probably a little song she made up. Chris just lays there, arm still draped around Star’s back, the weight of her and Lila’s quiet whispers keeping him grounded.

Eventually, he forces himself to move. Carefully, slowly, he slips out from under Star’s body and stands, rolling out the stiffness in his neck. He rubs his face, ask Lila if she’s hungry, then heads to the kitchen.

He moves without thinking—fills the coffee maker, waits for it to brew, grabs two mugs, pours. He’s just about to add sugar to Star’s when he hears a quiet sound behind him.

Turning, he sees her standing there, eyes heavy with sleep, still wrapped in his t-shirt from the night before. Lila peeks out from behind her, clearly having followed her out of bed.

Chris doesn’t say anything. He just hands her the mug and squeezes her knee when she sits at the table.

She mumbles a quiet thank you and takes the coffee gratefully, curling her hands around the warmth. Lila clambers onto her lap, practically making herself a second skin, and Chris just watches as Star lets it happen, rubbing Lila’s back the same way he’d been rubbing hers earlier.

She’s quiet while they sit there and he doesn’t push. Just stays close, lets the morning be slow, lets Star wake up at her own pace. Lila eats a plate of pancakes and even dips into the plate Star barely touches.

By the time they’re getting ready to leave, Star looks like she could easily crawl back into bed and sleep another eight hours.

Chris almost tells her she doesn’t have to come, that she can stay back and rest, but he stops himself. He already knows what she’d say.

So instead, he just grabs the keys and holds the door open for her.

The air outside is still damp from last night’s storm, the ground muddy in places where puddles haven’t dried yet. Star stops outside the car, lingering for a second and Chris knows that look.

But before she can say anything, Lila grabs her hand and tugs.

“Sit with me and bunny? Pleaseeeee?”

Lila’s already got one foot in the backseat, eyes big and hopeful. Star pauses, but only for a second before nodding.

Chris watches in the rearview mirror as she buckles herself in beside Lila, hands resting on her thighs like she’s still not sure about the decision.

He expects her to stay quiet, maybe stare out the window like she usually does, but Lila doesn’t let her.

The little girl starts talking before they even pull out of the driveway. She points out cows in the fields, makes Bunny fly, hums a little song under her breath, keeps Star so distracted that Chris watches the tension in her shoulders slowly fade.

She’s relaxed.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t point it out, but he turns the music down just a little, and keeps his driving extra smooth.

Halfway there, he glances in the mirror again and sees Lila looping her arm through Star’s, resting her head against her.

Chris looks away before something in him gets too soft.

Star doesn’t say much when they reach the hospital, but Chris can tell she’s trying. Her eyes are a little more alert, her shoulders aren’t curled so far inward. She smooths Lila’s hair down when they get out of the car, tugging her hoodie sleeves past her hands like armor. It’s still his shirt underneath, swallowed by the fabric, and he wonders if she wore it on purpose or just didn’t have the energy to change.

Inside, the hallway smells like bleach and something artificial trying too hard to be warm. Chris hates it—hates the way it clings to your clothes, settles in your hair—but he keeps moving. Lila skips ahead, her boots squeaking on the tile, and Star walks just behind him, fingers brushing the back pocket of his jeans like she needs the tether but doesn’t want to ask for it out loud.

Evelyn’s room is on the third floor. The elevator ride is quiet, Lila swaying side to side, humming again. Chris feels Star’s breath on his arm, soft and shaky.

When the doors slide open, she steps out last and he slows down without meaning to.

The hallway to Evelyn’s room is familiar in the worst kind of way. They’ve walked it so many times now that Chris could probably do it with his eyes closed. He knows which lights flicker, which tile is cracked near the nurse’s station, which door sticks when you try to pull it open too fast. Star probably remembers it too.

But this is the first time she’s been here since the fight.

She’d stayed away, even though he never asked her to. Maybe because he never asked her to. It wasn’t her place to just show up, at least that’s how she felt.

And Evelyn probably doesn’t even know that they’re okay again. That Star’s been sleeping in his bed and making Lila pancakes and staying up with him long after she should’ve gone home.

He looks at her now, just before they reach the door. She doesn’t meet his eyes, but he sees the way her throat moves when she swallows.

“Hey,” he says, low, soft enough that only she hears. “She’ll be happy to see you.”

Star nods, once, but doesn’t say anything.

Chris knocks gently, out of habit, then pushes the door open.

Evelyn is propped up against a mountain of pillows, flipping through an old paperback with one hand and adjusting the hospital blanket with the other. She looks tired, but not in a way that startles him. There’s color in her face today. Her hair’s a little messy, and someone brought her those awful yellow carnations from the front gift shop again.

Her face lights up when she sees Lila.

“There’s my girl,” she beams, holding her arms open.

Lila doesn’t hesitate. She barrels forward and clambers right into the bed, Bunny tucked under one arm. Evelyn kisses the top of her head and closes her eyes like it’s been weeks since she last seen her, in reality they visited a few days ago.

Chris steps in behind her, drops the bag of fruit and granola bars he brought for Lila, on the side table.

Then Evelyn sees Star.

She pauses. Her face shifts, softens around the edges, and something in her eyes goes quiet.

“Well,” she says gently, “you decided to stop hiding from me, huh?”

Star lets out a breath that’s half laugh, half something else entirely. “Wasn’t hiding,” she murmurs, but her voice cracks a little, betraying her.

Chris watches his mom reach out a hand, and Star crosses the room in two steps.

Evelyn pulls her into a hug before she can think twice. Star tenses—just for a second—then melts into it like she’s been holding that moment in for weeks.

“Missed you, sweet girl,” Evelyn whispers, brushing her thumb along the back of Star’s neck.

Chris looks down, pretends he’s adjusting something in the bag so he doesn’t have to see too much.

They all settle in after that. Lila tucks herself between Evelyn and the pillow, telling a story about school that’s mostly nonsense but somehow still charming. Chris sits in the corner chair with his long legs kicked out, arms crossed but relaxed. Star takes the stool by the bed, one hand resting on the frame, her other curled under her thigh. She looks around the room like it’s both foreign and familiar.

Evelyn eventually tires out. Her eyes get heavy mid-sentence and her hand goes still where it’s been brushing through Lila’s hair.

Chris watches her breathing settle, then glances at Star.

“C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the hallway. “Let’s get her food.”

Lila stays curled up on the bed, Bunny squished to her chest. Star hesitates again, checking Evelyn’s face one last time before slipping out behind him.

The hallway’s cooler now. Or maybe it’s just the quiet.

They don’t speak until they’re halfway down the corridor.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Star says, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris stops walking.

She doesn’t look at him, just stares straight ahead, eyes fixed on a speck on the wall like it matters more than anything else.

“I wanted to,” she continues. “I just… I felt like I wasn’t allowed. After everything.”

Chris steps closer, not touching her yet but near enough that she can feel the warmth of him.

“You were always allowed,” he says quietly. “Even when I was pissed. Especially then.”

Star’s lip trembles. She bites down on it hard.

Chris watches her for a second, then reaches out and takes her hand.

“You’re not a guest in my life, Star.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide and wet.

He squeezes her fingers. “You’re part of it now baby.”

For the first time all morning, she really breathes.

And Chris feels it—that tiny shift in the air between them. That click. Like things aren’t fixed for her, but they’re being rebuilt. Like she might finally believe him.

She nods, and he nods back, and they don’t say anything else.

Chris doesn’t let go of her hand right away, and Star doesn’t try to pull away either. It’s quiet except for the low hum of fluorescent lights overhead, the occasional muffled voice behind one of the closed doors. There’s something comforting about the stillness between them, the way they’re just… there. No rush to fill the silence, no need to pretend anything’s fine when it isn’t.

Eventually, Chris shifts his thumb slightly, brushing it across the back of her hand like he’s grounding himself, too.

“C’mon,” he says again, gentler this time. “Let’s get that sandwich Ma likes. The one with the stupid sprouts.”

Star huffs a soft laugh through her nose. It’s not much, but it’s real. She lets him guide her down the hallway, fingers still linked, and doesn’t even flinch when a nurse passes them with a cart full of vials and charts. Her steps are heavier now, like the weight in her chest’s been passed off—not fully, but enough to make the day slightly easier.

The cafeteria’s nearly empty when they get there. Late enough in the morning that the breakfast rush is over but early enough that the lunch crowd hasn’t started trickling in. Chris leads the way to the cold case, scanning for anything Evelyn might want. He grabs two of those weird fruit cups with more cantaloupe than anyone ever wants, a sandwich with way too many sprouts, and a chocolate pudding cup Lila will probably eat half of before handing it off to someone else.

Star hovers behind him, arms crossed loosely over her chest, still swimming in his hoodie. Her eyes scan the room like she’s trying to memorize it, or maybe just find a piece of it that doesn’t make her feel out of place.

“You want anything?” Chris asks, already knowing the answer but asking anyway.

She shakes her head, almost too quickly.

But again, he doesn’t push. Just nods and heads for the register, waiting until they’re back in the elevator to speak again.

“She missed you, y’know.”

Star doesn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the row of buttons above the door.

“I missed her,” she says after a pause, soft like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to say it.

Chris glances sideways at her. “You’re allowed to miss people, Star. Even when things are messy.”

She nods once, almost imperceptibly, and when the elevator dings for the third floor, she follows him out without hesitation.

When they return to the room, Evelyn’s still asleep, her arm draped around Lila’s small body. The little girl’s eyes are closed now, too, Bunny tucked under her chin. It’s the kind of peaceful that makes Chris slow down without realizing, like the moment deserves a kind of reverence he doesn’t know how to name.

He sets the food down quietly on the side table, not wanting to wake either of them.

Star just stands there for a minute, watching them. Her face is unreadable, but her hands are looser now. Less clenched. Less guarded.

Chris watches her from the corner of his eye, then turns and sinks into the chair by the window. His legs stretch out in front of him again, like they had earlier, and he lets out a low sigh as he scrubs a hand through his hair.

Star finally moves, inching toward the bed, her steps soft. She doesn’t sit—just reaches out and gently brushes a piece of Lila’s hair off her forehead, then straightens the blanket draped over Evelyn’s shoulder. It’s so small, so quiet, but Chris feels something crack open in his chest when he sees it.

Like maybe this is what healing looks like. Not loud or dramatic or all at once. Just little moments like this.

He doesn’t say anything.

Just lets her be.

Lets them all be.

authors note: CAN YALL STOP JUMPING ME NOW? omg im sorry 😔

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @colorthecosmos444 @y3sterdaysproblem

@pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken

@mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips

@sturniolo-fann @chrisslut04 @owensbabygirl @sturnslutz @sturniqlo

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@whore4mattsturniolo @ellbowmacaroni @meerkatzthings @sturnsrecord @wildfluer

@delilahsturns @cherrypickedchris @chrepsi @strnilolover @swagfacepeanut @cayleeuhithinknott @sagesturns @sophsturns @leaningoutthewindow

#𑁍ࠬܓdarksturnz #𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets angst #sturniolo triplets fluff

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darksturnz · 8 months ago

Text

TULIPS AND FORGET-ME-NOTS

MASTERLIST

IN WHICH…STAR.ᐟREADER yearns for freedom, and ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS wrestles with his own demons, the two form a fragile bond in a town that seems determined to break them. Pine View is more than a backdrop; it’s a reflection of their struggles and dreams, a place where survival means finding hope in even the smallest cracks of light.

IMPORTANT NOTE: MADISON IS NO LONGER A CHARACTER IN THIS SERIES !!!!

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

MOODBOARDS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR.ᐟREADER . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

CHAPTERS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS BACKGROUND . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ first meeting . . . here

001⊹₊⟡⋆ COMFORT IN THE CHAOS . . . here

002⊹₊⟡⋆ NIGHTS LIKE THIS . . . here

003⊹₊⟡⋆ BETWEEN THE CRACKS . . . here

004⊹₊⟡⋆ A LITTLE LIGHT . . . here

005⊹₊⟡⋆ ANCHOR . . . here **

006⊹₊⟡⋆ THE MOON, THE SUN, THE STARS . . . here

007⊹₊⟡⋆ HANDS THAT SHAKE . . . here

008⊹₊⟡⋆ DRAWINGS AND APOLOGIES. . . here

009⊹₊⟡⋆ ECHOES OF LIGHT . . . here

010⊹₊⟡⋆ IN YOUR ORBIT . . . here

011⊹₊⟡⋆ BACKWOODS . . . here

012⊹₊⟡⋆ HELPING HANDS…? . . . here **

013⊹₊⟡⋆ BREATHING . . . here

014⊹₊⟡⋆ AFTER THE STORM . . . here

015⊹₊⟡⋆ THE WEIGHT OF LETTING GO . . . here

016⊹₊⟡⋆ CAKE & CONFESSIONS . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

BLURBS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ SKETCHES & SPACE . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS STICKS UP FOR STAR.ᐟREADER . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS IS…SCARED OF CATS? . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ CHRIS’ FIRST TIME SMOKING . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆TASTE . . . here **

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR GIVES CHRIS HEAD . . . here **

⊹₊⟡⋆ UNICORN CUPCAKES . . . here **

⊹₊⟡⋆ TOGETHER (their first time together!!) . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

INSTAGRAM POST:

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR.ᐟREADER X ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS . . . 1 2 3 4 5

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR.ᐟREADER CURRENT INSTA FEED . . . here

EXTRAS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ NSFW ALPHABET . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ WHAT ARE THEY DOING RIGHT NOW? . . . 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

⊹₊⟡⋆ MATCHING CLOTHES . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ SWEET MOMENTS . . . part one

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR + CHRIS CURRENT FAVS . . . here + here

⊹₊⟡⋆ WHAT ANIMALS WOULD THEY BE . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

AUTHORS NOTE: this will constantly be updated !!

TAG LIST: go to this post

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darksturnz · 8 months ago

Text

BETWEEN THE CRACKS

CONTENTS:・teeth rotting fluff-heavy plot (again..) ・star!reader ・mild language ・mentions of death/hospitals・artist!chris ・mild language + more WC: 3.6k masterlist: here

slightly a part two to this, and once again, highly recommend you listen to this on repeat as that’s what i did.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting faint streaks of gold across the small, cluttered room. Star stirred, her body caught between the pull of sleep and the growing awareness of something unfamiliar. Warmth.

Her eyes fluttered open, her breath catching as she realized she wasn’t alone. Chris’s arm was slung loosely around her waist, his hand resting on the fabric of her shirt like a promise he hadn’t meant to make. His face was inches from hers, his expression uncharacteristically peaceful in sleep, the usual tension smoothed from his features.

For a moment, she froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She’d spent years perfecting the art of keeping people at arm’s length, of never letting anyone close enough to see the cracks beneath the surface— besides madison of course. And yet, here she was, tangled up with Chris Sturniolo of all people—the guarded, gruff boy who never smiled, never laughed, and yet somehow felt safer than anyone she’d ever known.

Her gaze flicked over his face, taking in the faint scar along his jawline, the way his dark lashes rested against his cheekbones. He looked softer like this. Human, even. It was a stark contrast to the sharp edges he usually wore like armor.

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to do. The rational part of her wanted to slip away, to put distance between them before he woke and they had to confront whatever this was. But the softer, quieter part of her—the part she tried so hard to ignore—didn’t want to move.

Her hand rested against his chest, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. It was grounding, in a way, and terrifying all at once.

Chris shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening around her for just a moment before his eyes opened.

Star froze again, her breath hitching as his gaze met hers. For a split second, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a glimpse of something raw and unguarded. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a sort of quiet confusion.

“Morning,” he muttered, his voice rough and low from sleep.

Star blinked, the sound of his voice snapping her out of whatever trance she’d been in. “Morning,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Neither of them moved. The silence between them felt heavy, but not uncomfortable—more like the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

Chris glanced down at her hand still resting against his chest, his brows furrowing slightly. A faint, almost self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t mean to, uh, hold you captive,” he said, his voice gruff but tinged with awkward humor.

Star felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t pull away. A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. “You didn’t,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. “I didn’t mind.”

That quiet admission settled between them like a secret, one neither of them was ready to unpack.

Chris finally shifted, breaking the silence but not the closeness entirely. “m’gonna make coffee,” he muttered, his voice softer now, as if the moment had chipped away some of his usual defenses.

Star stayed where she was, staring up at the ceiling as the sound of his footsteps retreated into the kitchen. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts swirling with feelings she wasn’t ready to name.

This was dangerous. She knew that. Letting someone in, even a little, was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. And yet, as she traced her fingers over the wrinkle in the sheet where Chris had been, she couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of something that felt an awful lot like hope.

The coffee maker sputtered weakly, its rhythmic bubbling filling the small trailer as Chris leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the chipped mug in his hand. He wasn’t sure why he’d said what he had back in the room. Didn’t mean to hold you captive. It wasn’t like him to really joke—at least not in a situation like that.

But Star did something to him. Slowly, without permission, she had slipped past all the defenses he’d spent years building. He didn’t know how to navigate it, the strange pull he felt toward her. It was terrifying. Maddening. But when he heard her footsteps padding softly into the kitchen, a part of him—the part he didn’t like to acknowledge—felt calmer.

Star lingered in the doorway, watching him. The faint smile she’d worn earlier had faded, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. “You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

Chris turned his head, meeting her eyes. There was a vulnerability in her question, like she wasn’t just asking about him but testing the waters to see if it was okay for her to stay. He nodded once, setting the mug down. “Yeah. You want some?” He gestured to the coffee maker.

She shook her head. “I’m good.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and unspoken. Chris cleared his throat, turning back to the counter. “Lila should be up soon,” he said, his voice gruff again.

“Right,” Star murmured. She hesitated before stepping closer, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. “Do you think she’ll want pancakes?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “She always wants pancakes.”

Star chuckled softly, and the sound did something to him—something he didn’t have words for.

Lila emerged a little while later, her brown curls a tangled mess and her eyes puffy with sleep. She dragged her blanket behind her like a cape, rubbing at her face as she padded into the kitchen.

“Morning, Bug,” Chris said, his tone softer now.

Lila mumbled something incomprehensible, then perked up when she saw Star standing by the stove. “Star!” she exclaimed, her voice brightening.

Star turned, crouching slightly to meet Lila’s excited gaze. “Morning, Lil.”

Lila giggled, abandoning her blanket to run over and wrap her arms around Star’s legs. “Are you making pancakes?”

Chris smirked from his spot by the counter. “Told you.”

Star rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention back to Lila. “Only if you promise to help me flip them.”

Lila gasped, nodding vigorously. “I’m the best flipper!”

Chris chuckled, the sound low and brief, but it made Star’s chest feel strangely warm. She caught his eye for a moment, and something passed between them—a silent acknowledgment of how natural this felt.

After breakfast, the three of them settled into their usual rhythm. Lila spent time coloring on the living room floor while Chris worked on a sketch at the small table near the window. Star watched them from her spot on the couch, feeling an odd sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in years.

It was Lila who broke the comfortable silence. She climbed into Chris’s lap, her coloring book in hand. “Can we go see Mommy today?” she asked softly, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Chris set his pencil down, his expression softening. “Yeah, Bug. We can go.”

Lila hesitated, twisting a curl around her finger. “Can Star come too?”

Chris blinked, caught off guard by the request. His eyes flicked to Star, who sat very still, her gaze carefully neutral. He hadn’t expected Lila to ask, and he wasn’t sure if Star would even want to go.

Star hesitated, her stomach twisting. The last time she’d been in a hospital, her mother had died. Just the thought of stepping into those sterile halls again made her chest tighten.

But then Lila turned to her, her wide eyes filled with hope. “Please, Star? Mommy would like you,” she said softly.

Chris didn’t say anything, but he watched Star closely, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to figure her out.

Star exhaled shakily, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I’ll come.”

The hospital was as stark and sterile as Star had expected. Every step inside felt heavier than the last, memories pressing down on her chest like a weight she couldn’t shake. She kept her gaze fixed on Lila, who walked ahead with her small hand clasped in Chris’s.

When they reached Evelyn’s room, Star hesitated just outside the door. She could hear the steady hum of machines, the faint murmur of voices, and her heart began to race.

“You okay?” Chris’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced at him, nodding quickly. “Yeah.”

Chris studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before pushing the door open.

Lila ran ahead, her voice bright. “Mommy!”

The woman lying in the bed was pale and frail, her breathing shallow as she smiled weakly at her daughter. Star lingered by the door, unsure of where to stand or what to do.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Evelyn murmured, her voice thin but warm.

Chris crossed the room to stand by her bedside, his hand resting lightly on Lila’s shoulder. He glanced back at Star, his gaze expectant.

Star swallowed hard and stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Hi,” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough for Chris to notice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to Chris, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You must be Star,” she said. “Lila talks about you all the time.”

Star blinked, surprised. “She does?”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! I told Mommy how you make pancakes and how you help me with my drawings.”

Star felt her cheeks flush, but she smiled. “Well, you’re a pretty great artist, Lil.”

Evelyn chuckled softly, the sound weak but genuine. “You’re very sweet,” she said, her eyes lingering on Star for a moment before shifting to Chris.

Chris stayed quiet, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, but his gaze was fixed on Star. He watched the way she interacted with his mom—how gentle and respectful she was, how she seemed to genuinely care. She didn’t notice Chris watching her, but he couldn’t look away. There was something about the way she fit into this moment, into his life, that scared him and comforted him all at once.

Star sat on the edge of the chair near Evelyn’s bedside, her posture tentative but open. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, unsure if she should lean closer or stay where she was. The machines hooked up to Evelyn hummed softly in the background, their rhythmic beeping both comforting and unsettling.

Lila was perched at the foot of the hospital bed, her sketchbook open as she chattered away about her latest masterpiece. Star leaned in to admire it when Lila held it up, a messy swirl of crayons resembling what Lila insisted was a butterfly.

“It’s beautiful,” Star said softly, smiling at the little girl.

“It’s for Mommy,” Lila announced proudly.

Chris shifted by the wall, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You better get it framed, Mom. Bug’s a professional now.”

Evelyn laughed quietly, her gaze flicking from Lila to Chris. “I might just do that,” she murmured. Her voice was tired, but there was something about the way she looked at her son—pride mingled with sadness.

Star could feel it—the heaviness in the air, the weight Chris carried every time he walked into this room. She glanced at him briefly, catching the way his jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to do more but couldn’t.

After a while, Lila climbed into the chair on Star’s lap, distracted by her coloring book. Evelyn turned her attention to Star, her soft gaze curious but kind.

“So, y/n,” Evelyn began, her voice gentle, “how long have you been putting up with my son?”

Star blinked, caught off guard by the question. She glanced at Chris, who rolled his eyes but didn’t protest.

“Um… a few months now,” Star replied, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “He doesn’t make it too hard.”

Evelyn chuckled, though it quickly turned into a cough. Chris straightened, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer to the bed. “Mom,” he said quietly, his voice edged with concern.

“I’m fine,” Evelyn assured him, waving a weak hand. She turned back to Star, her expression softening. “It’s good he has someone around. Lila talks about you like your family.”

Star froze, her chest tightening. Family. The word felt foreign, like something she couldn’t quite hold onto. She forced a small laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Lila’s easy to love,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Chris caught that—the slight tremor in her voice, the way her eyes shifted down to her hands. He didn’t say anything, but he stayed close, his presence steady even if his words weren’t.

As Star talked with Evelyn, Chris found himself studying her. She was nervous—he could tell by the way her fingers twisted the hem of her hoodie, the way her shoulders tensed every time Evelyn asked her a question. But she didn’t shy away.

She met his mom’s gaze, listened intently, and responded with a quiet respect that wasn’t forced. Chris wasn’t used to that. Most people tiptoed around his mom, either out of pity or discomfort. But Star just… was.

And it was the way she was with Lila that got to him the most. She didn’t treat her like a kid to be humored but like someone worth listening to, worth spending time with. It reminded him of how his mom used to be before the illness took so much from her.

That feeling in his gut—the one that twisted and ached every time Star was around—was back. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, trying to look indifferent.

When it was time to leave, Evelyn hugged Lila as tightly as her strength would allow, kissing her forehead and whispering something that made Lila giggle. Chris bent down to press a quick kiss to his mom’s cheek, murmuring something Star couldn’t hear.

As they walked out of the room, Star lingered for a moment, glancing back at Evelyn. The older woman smiled at her, her gaze warm but knowing, as if she could see straight through Star’s guarded walls.

“You’re good for them,” Evelyn said softly.

Star felt her cheeks flush. “They’re good for me,” she murmured with a soft smile before turning to follow Chris and Lila.

The walk back to the car was quiet. Lila held Chris’s hand, skipping slightly as she hummed a tune Star didn’t recognize. Chris opened the passenger door for Star without a word, his hand brushing hers briefly as she climbed in.

The car ride back was quieter than usual. Lila dozed off in the backseat, her head lolling against the window, her sketchbook clutched tightly in her lap.

Star stared out the window, her thoughts swirling. The hospital had stirred up memories she hadn’t wanted to face, but it had also given her something unexpected—connection. She glanced at Chris, his profile sharp and focused as he drove.

“Your mom’s really kind,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

Chris’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but his voice was even when he replied. “Yeah. She is.”

Star hesitated, her fingers playing with the frayed hem of her jeans. “Thanks for letting me come,” she said quietly.

Chris glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. “She liked you,” he said simply. “Kinda knew she would.”

Star’s chest tightened at the admission. She wanted to say more, to ask what he meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she rested her hand lightly on the console between them, her fingers brushing his briefly.

Chris didn’t pull away.

The trailer was quiet when they got back. Chris carried Lila inside, her small body heavy with sleep as her head lolled against his shoulder. Star followed, closing the door softly behind her. The familiar warmth of the space wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the sterile chill of the hospital.

Chris gently laid Lila on her bed, brushing her curls back from her face. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent before curling into the blankets. Star hovered near the door, unsure if she should help or stay out of the way, but Chris glanced back at her.

“Can you grab Bug’s stuffed bunny? s’over by the couch,” he said quietly.

Star nodded, moving to retrieve the well-loved bunny that Lila never slept without. When she handed it to Chris, their fingers brushed, and she caught the faintest flicker of a smile on his lips.

Chris tucked the bunny into Lila’s arms and adjusted the blanket over her shoulders. “Night, Bug,” he murmured.

“’Night,” Lila mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Star watched from the doorway, her heart twisting at the tenderness in Chris’s actions. He moved so easily between his rough edges and these softer moments, and she felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name.

When Lila was settled, Chris turned off the light, leaving the door slightly ajar. He stepped into the hallway, his gaze meeting Star’s briefly before he nodded toward the porch.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice low.

The air outside was crisp but not cold, the faint scent of pine and earth lingering in the night. Star leaned against the wooden railing, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked out at the dark expanse beyond the trailer park.

Chris stood beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice soft.

Star hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the railing. “Yeah,” she said, though the word felt heavy in her mouth.

Chris didn’t push, but his gaze lingered on her profile, studying the way her jaw tensed, the way her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon as if she was afraid to meet his.

After a long pause, Star exhaled shakily, the words falling from her mouth before she could stop them. “The hospital…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “It brought back some things.”

Chris stayed quiet, giving her the space to continue.

“My mom died in a car accident,” Star said, her voice trembling slightly. “She was trying to bring me an essay I’d left at home. She knew how much it meant to me, and she…” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in her eyes. “She didn’t make it to the school. A drunk driver hit her on the way.”

Chris’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t realized the weight she was carrying every time she stepped into his home, into his life.

“I haven’t been back to a hospital since,” Star admitted, her voice quieter now. “I couldn’t. Until today.”

Chris’s hand twitched at his side, and before he could think better of it, he reached out, his fingers brushing hers. “I didn’t know,” he said softly.

She looked down at their hands, her lips pressing into a faint, sad smile. “It’s not something I talk about, I hear about it enough from my dad” she murmured. “But… being here, with you and Lila—it’s different. Your place feels safe. And I don’t have a lot of that in my life.”

Chris’s throat felt tight. He wasn’t good at this—at knowing the right things to say. But he couldn’t ignore the pull in his chest, the way her words settled deep inside him.

“You’re always welcome here,” he said quietly.

Star turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his. The vulnerability in her gaze made his heart ache.

“Chris…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without this. Without Lila. Without you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he didn’t move. But then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against her cheek.

“y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “If I kissed you right now, would you stop me?”

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching. For a moment, she didn’t answer, the weight of the question settling between them. Then, she shook her head, her voice soft but steady.

“I’d really, really like it if you kissed me.”

Chris’s chest tightened, and he didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the small distance between them, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was as much a confession as it was a promise.

Star’s hands found their way to his chest, gripping his shirt lightly as she leaned into him. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, but it deepened as the weight of their unspoken feelings spilled over.

When they finally broke apart, Chris rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin.

“You scare the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly.

Star laughed softly, her hands still pressed against his chest. “You’re not exactly the safest thing either.”

Chris’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, and for once, he didn’t try to hide it.

“You should stay,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question.

Star nodded, her voice barely audible. “Okay.”

Chris exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped back, holding the door open for her.

Star followed him inside, her heart still racing.

Maybe this was dangerous. Maybe it would hurt later.

But for now, it felt safe.

AUTHORS NOTE: the “i’d really really like it if you kissed me” line was sooo ib something @bernardsbendystraws responded to an ask to. i seen it on my feed and it literally screamed star & chris idk! anywho they kissed, fr this time and this has opened so many doors to potential blurbs, you’re getting fed.

#ⓘdarksturnz #𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo blurb #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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darksturnz · 8 months ago

Text

NIGHTS LIKE THIS

CONTENTS:・teeth rotting fluff-heavy plot (imo) ・star!reader ・mild language ・sleeping in the same bed・artist!chris ・substance use + more (part two here) WC: 2.3k masterlist: here

i highly highly recommend listening to this on repeat, as that’s what i did :,) promise it sets the mood. + heavily dedicated to my literal star @55sturn

The roof of Chris’s trailer creaked as Star stretched out on the patchy blanket, her black hoodie blending into the night sky above. The air was cool, almost cold, but not quite enough to send her shivering. Pine View was never silent, even at night—the hum of cicadas buzzed low in the background, broken occasionally by a bark or the far-off growl of an engine.

Chris sat beside her, leaning back on one elbow, a joint hanging loosely from his fingers. His face was calm, unreadable as always, except for the faint furrow in his brow. Smoke curled lazily in the air between them, dissipating into the starry sky.

“I’m telling you,” Star said, voice animated as her finger traced a constellation, “if aliens exist, there’s no way they’re not watching us right now. We’re like, prime reality TV for them. Chaos, drama, stupidity—it’s got everything.”

Chris exhaled a slow stream of smoke, not bothering to look up. “Pretty sure aliens have better taste than watching us fail at life.” His tone was dry, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but wouldn’t let himself.

Star glanced over at him, her lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re such an optimist, Chris.”

“Realist,” he corrected, passing the joint to her without looking. His eyes were fixed somewhere on the horizon, but she could feel him listening in that quiet way he always did.

She took a drag, coughing slightly before handing it back. “Still. If they’re watching us, I bet they’re rooting for us, y’know? Like… even when life’s a mess, people find these little moments of peace. Kinda like this.”

Chris finally glanced at her, the faintest flicker of something soft in his sharp features. The way her nose crinkled when she tried to suppress her laugh; the way her eyes lit up, reflecting the stars she couldn’t stop rambling about—it was… annoying, maybe, how effortlessly she made the night feel less heavy. But not in a bad way.

“Maybe,” he muttered, almost to himself, before looking away again.

They lapsed into silence for a while, the kind that felt comfortable after months of stolen nights like this. Star broke it first, as she always did.

“You’re extra quiet tonight,” she said, nudging his shoulder. “What’s on your mind? Or are you just too high to function?”

Chris rolled his eyes, taking another drag. “Maybe I like the quiet, Kid. You ever think about that?”

“Nope,” she replied easily, grinning. “You’d be miserable without me, admit it.”

“Sure,” he said, deadpan, though the corners of his mouth twitched again.

Eventually, Star sat up, wobbling slightly as she eyed the trellis below. “Alright, we should head down before I fall asleep up here. You’re terrible at carrying people, and I refuse to be a headline in the Pine View Gazette: Local Emo Girl Plummets to Death Off Trailer Roof.”

Chris snorted. “They’d probably get your name wrong, too.”

Star nudged him with her elbow. “Go first. You’re the guy. Don’t guys like… live for this macho stuff? Protecting damsels in distress n’all that?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “You’re about as distressed as a cat on catnip.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the roof, gripping the trellis. It creaked under his weight, but he made it down smoothly, dusting his hands on his jeans when he reached the ground.

“See?” he called up. “s’fine. Just don’t be an idiot about it.”

Star pulled a face. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Captain Supportive.”

As she carefully climbed down, the trellis groaned ominously. Her foot slipped on a loose slat, and the sound of wood snapping was followed by a startled yelp.

“Chris!”

She fell backward, and he scrambled to catch her. The impact sent them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Star landed on top of him, groaning as she tried to sit up. “Oh my god, I told you this thing was a death trap! Are you okay? Did I—”

“Shut up,” Chris said, breathless, but there was no heat in his words.

He stared up at her, his eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. The joint haze lingered in the air, making every detail sharper—the warmth of her body against his, the way her breath hitched slightly, the glint of stars in her wide eyes.

Her voice softened. “Chris…”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, his gaze flicking briefly to her lips. It was as if gravity itself was pulling them closer, and she swayed slightly, her hands braced against his chest.

And then—

“Chris?”

Lila’s small, groggy voice shattered the moment. They froze, heads snapping toward the trailer’s back door, where Lila stood in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes.

Star scrambled to her feet, her cheeks burning. Chris sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, “What are you doing up, Lila?”

“I had a bad dream,” she mumbled, sniffling.

Chris sighed, climbing to his feet and brushing off the dirt. “Alright, c’mon,” he said, jerking his head toward the trailer. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Star stood awkwardly to the side, still flustered, as Chris led Lila inside. When he came back out a few minutes later, his face was unreadable again, the moment between them seemingly forgotten.

“You coming?” he asked, nodding toward the trailer.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, following him in.

They collapsed onto the couch with a spread of leftover snacks, bingeing Rick and Morty in comfortable silence. But every so often, Star caught Chris sneaking glances at her, his expression softening just slightly before he turned back to the screen.

Star popped a fry into her mouth, her legs curled beneath her on the couch. The glow from the TV flickered across her face as the absurd antics of Rick and Morty filled the small living room. She stole a glance at Chris, who sat slouched next to her, picking at the crust of a slice of leftover pizza.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the moment on the ground—the way his eyes had locked with hers, the way her heart had flipped in her chest. It was ridiculous, really. Chris was… Chris. Gruff, blunt, emotionally unavailable Chris. And yet, her cheeks still felt warm when she thought about how close they’d been.

“You’re staring,” Chris said without looking up. His tone was as dry as ever, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Star jerked her gaze back to the TV, stuffing another fry into her mouth. “I’m not staring. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Right,” he drawled, finally glancing over at her. “Because you’re the picture of subtlety.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” she shot back, turning to face him fully now. “You’ve been sneaking looks at me all night. What, do I have something on my face?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he leaned back against the couch. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just paranoid.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge if he was messing with her. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he replied smoothly, grabbing the remote and flipping to the next episode.

Star crossed her arms, leaning back with a huff. “I could’ve stayed home.”

Chris turned to her, the ghost of a smirk still lingering. “You wouldn’t have. You like it here too much.”

Her mouth opened to argue, but no words came out. Because he wasn’t wrong. For all his snark and the peeling wallpaper of his trailer, Chris’s place felt… safe.

“Whatever,” she muttered, grabbing a handful of fries.

They watched the episode in silence for a while, the tension between them softening into something almost comfortable again. But as the credits rolled, Chris spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

“What…what was that earlier,” he said, not looking at her.

Star stiffened, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What was what earlier?”

His jaw shifted, like he was debating whether to say it. Finally, he turned his head to meet her gaze, his expression unreadable. “You almost kissed me.”

Her face burned. “I—what? No, I didn’t!”

Chris arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You sure about that?”

The air between them grew heavier, the space on the couch suddenly feeling much too small. Star swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she held his gaze.

“Well, if I did,” she said, trying to sound casual, “you almost…did it back.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his eyes flicked down to her lips, just for a second, before meeting hers again.

For a moment, it felt like they were back on the ground outside, the rest of the world fading away as gravity pulled them closer.

But then, from the hallway, Lila’s small voice rang out again.

“Chris? Can I have water?”

Chris sighed, breaking eye contact as he stood up. “Yeah, I got it,” he called, his tone softer than usual.

Star exhaled, her shoulders slumping as the tension dissolved into the air. She stared at the TV, her fries forgotten, as Chris disappeared into the kitchen to help his sister.

When he came back, he sat down beside her without a word, grabbing another slice of pizza.

“Chris,” she said after a long pause, her voice quieter now.

He glanced at her, chewing lazily. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, her fingers twisting in the hem of her hoodie. “Never mind.”

Chris studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned back, grabbing the remote again. “You’re weird,” he muttered, though there was no edge to his voice.

Star rolled her eyes, pulling her knees to her chest as the next episode started. But despite the casual banter, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had shifted.

Neither of them said anything more about it, but as the night stretched on, Chris stayed just a little closer to her on the couch, his shoulder brushing hers every now and then.

The glow of the TV flickered softly across the living room, the chaos of Rick and Morty still playing, though Star hadn’t laughed in a while. Chris glanced over, noticing her head drooping slightly, her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyelids fluttered shut, the stubbornness that usually lit up her expression now replaced by something softer, more unguarded.

“Star,” Chris muttered, nudging her leg with his foot.

She mumbled something incoherent, barely stirring.

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. The night had already been a whirlwind—her almost falling off the roof, the tension of their moment on the ground, and now this. Yet here she was, passed out on his couch like it was her own home.

Chris stood, stretching before leaning down to scoop up the half-empty plate of fries on her lap. He set it on the coffee table, shaking his head. “You really can’t hang, can you?” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked any real bite.

Star whimpered lightly but didn’t wake. Chris hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides as he debated whether to just leave her there. But something about the thought of her waking up in an uncomfortable position, complaining about her back for the next week, pushed him to act.

He bent down, sliding an arm under her legs and another behind her back. She stirred slightly as he lifted her, her body instinctively curling into his chest. Her head lolled against him, nestling into the crook of his shoulder, and Chris froze mid-step.

Her soft breath tickled his neck as she adjusted again, snuggling closer, completely unaware of what she was doing. His heart stuttered in a way he wasn’t used to, an unfamiliar warmth blooming low in his stomach.

“Damn it, Kid,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no malice in his tone.

She mumbled something incoherent again, her arm curling loosely against his chest like she belonged there. It was so unlike her usual sharp edges, her endless teasing and snarky comments. Like this, she was… soft. Vulnerable. The part of her she didn’t let the world see.

Chris carried her down the narrow hallway to his room, his movements careful and deliberate, as if afraid to wake her. The soft creak of his bedroom door greeted him as he nudged it open with his foot. Moonlight spilled in through the window, casting a faint glow over the small, familiar space.

As he lowered her onto the bed, she stirred, her head shifting slightly. For a brief moment, he thought she’d wake, but she just sighed, curling into herself instinctively.

Chris lingered, crouched beside the bed, watching the way her face relaxed, her lips slightly parted as she fell deeper into sleep. The faintest furrow creased his brow as he studied her, caught between the familiarity of her presence and the strange, twisting feelings in his chest.

She shifted again, burrowing deeper into the blankets as her arm stretched out toward the space where he usually slept. He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the pillow he always placed between them. The unspoken rule—his own attempt to avoid another awkward morning of waking up to find her tangled around him.

But now, as he watched her, those feelings from earlier returned—the strange pull, the warmth that made him feel more unsettled than he wanted to admit.

Chris dropped the pillow.

He stood there for another moment, his gaze lingering on her soft features before he climbed into the bed beside her. He stayed on his side at first, stiff and unsure, leaning back against the headboard.

But when her arm instinctively draped across his stomach and her head found his shoulder again, he didn’t pull away.

For a while, he just lays there, staring up at the ceiling, her even breaths filling the quiet space around them. The barrier was gone, and something in him—something unspoken—decided it didn’t need to come back.

AUTHORS NOTE: i love him. i literally LOVE him. my sweet angel boy. that’s all.

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darksturnz · 6 months ago

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BREATHING

CONTENTS:・angst-heavy plot ・drug usage・mild language ・mentions of sick/dead parents・artist!chris ・star!reader ・parent-child conflict +++ more WC: 4k full masterlist: here

there’s a part in here that gets me D: !! sorry for the delay on this. as always, listen on repeat to better help set the mood!!

The storm rattled through Pineapple Grove with a vengeance, slamming rain against the thin walls of Chris’s trailer. The power had been out since noon, leaving the entire park shrouded in darkness. A few candles flickered on his coffee table, their light throwing restless shadows across the walls. Outside, wind howled through the trailer park, shaking loose gutters and tearing branches from the thin trees dotting the dirt paths.

Chris sat slouched on the couch, one leg stretched out, the other propped up lazily against the coffee table. A heavily packed bong rested in one hand, a lighter in the other. He’d been trying to unwind, to dull the static in his brain, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate.

The call from the hospital earlier in the day had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“No changes. Shes not getting better but she’s not getting worse.”

They always said it like that, like they weren’t talking about his mother. Like she wasn’t lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines, slipping further and further away while he tried to hold everything together.

Lila had gone to bed hours ago after a long, quiet day stuck inside. She hadn’t complained once, but Chris could tell she felt it too—the absence of their mom, the weight of uncertainty. He sighed, running a hand through his damp curls and leaning forward, the lighter flickering as he raised it to the bowl.

Three sharp knocks broke the stillness.

Chris froze.

The flame died out as his hand hovered midair. His brows furrowed as he turned toward the door, his body tensing instinctively. No one knocked this late—especially not during a storm like this.

He grabbed his phone from the table, squinting at the screen.

11:14 p.m.

“The fuck?” he muttered under his breath, setting the bong down. The old floorboards creaked as he made his way toward the door, rain hammering against the trailer’s tin roof.

He opened it, and his stomach dropped.

Star stood on his porch, completely soaked, her arms wrapped around herself as rain dripped from her hair and onto the wooden steps. The dim candlelight inside barely illuminated her, but even through the darkness, he could see the blank, faraway look in her eyes.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure if she was crying or if it was just the rain running down her face. But then their eyes met, and he knew.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, careful.

She didn’t say a word.

He reached out, pulling her inside with one swift motion, shutting the door firmly behind her. The second the lock clicked, she collapsed against him, arms wrapping around his middle as her body trembled against his.

Chris caught her easily, his arms instinctively locking around her shoulders.

“What happened, baby?” he murmured, pressing his lips against the top of her head.

She still didn’t answer.

Her only response was a choked, muffled sob, her fingers gripping the back of his hoodie so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Chris held her without saying anything, without asking any more questions. Just letting her be.

The wet fabric of her clothes seeped into his, the coldness of her body pressing against the warmth of his own. The contrast made his chest ache.

Minutes passed before her sobs quieted. Chris pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face, but her grip only tightened like she was afraid he’d slip away.

“Star,” he said softly, cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin, still freezing cold despite the heat inside. “How long were you out there?”

She shrugged, not meeting his gaze.

Chris frowned. “You’re gonna get sick. Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

“M’fine,” she mumbled, her voice raw.

“Wasn’t asking,” Chris said, voice firm but gentle. He slipped an arm around her waist, guiding her carefully through the dim trailer. The candles flickered as the wind rattled the windows, the storm outside refusing to let up.

When they reached his bedroom, he nudged the closet open. “Grab whatever, m’gonna check on bug.”

Star nodded wordlessly, sniffing as she stepped toward the clothes she knew well—clothes she’d stolen before, clothes that still probably smelled like her own laundry detergent from when she returned them.

Chris lingered for a second before stepping back, closing the door behind him.

Lila was still curled up in her bed, her small body tucked beneath a thick quilt. The candle beside her flickered dangerously close to the edge of her curtain, and Chris leaned over, carefully blowing it out.

She barely stirred.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching her sleep, feeling something deep and sharp twist inside his chest. She was only six. She didn’t deserve any of this.

Neither did Star.

Chris ran a tired hand down his face before stepping out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

When he returned to the hall, his bedroom door was still closed. He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. He wasn’t good at this. Comforting people. He knew how to take care of Lila, sure—but Star? He never knew what to say.

Back in the kitchen, he turned on the gas stove and set a kettle to boil. His hands worked automatically, pulling two mugs from the cabinet and tearing open two packets of hot chocolate mix.

His fingers drummed against the countertop as he waited for the kettle to whistle. The sound of the storm outside felt deafening in the quiet of the trailer.

By the time the kettle screamed, Chris’ bedroom door creaked open.

Chris poured the steaming water into the mugs, stirring until the powder dissolved. When he glanced toward the archway leading to the living room, Star was standing there, still damp, her hair sticking to her face in uneven strands. She looked impossibly small in his hoodie and sweats, like she was trying to disappear into the fabric.

Chris’s chest ached.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, bringing the mugs to the coffee table.

She nodded, arms wrapped around herself as she sank onto the couch.

Chris set the mugs down and sat beside her, leaving space between them. He waited, hoping she’d move closer like she always did—but she didn’t. She just stared blankly ahead, her face etched with something hollow.

Chris hesitated before reaching out, placing a hand on her thigh. She tensed at the contact, then slowly relaxed, turning her head to look at him.

Her gaze drifted to the bong and jar of weed sitting on the table.

“Can I hit that?” she asked softly, her voice scratchy.

He grabbed the bong, lighting it for her, watching as she inhaled, the water bubbling quietly. She coughed slightly as she exhaled, handing it back to him. Chris set it down and nudged the hot chocolate toward her.

“Hot chocolate?” she murmured.

He shrugged. “You don’t like tea and I’m outta coffee beans”

A small silence stretched between them as she wrapped her hands around the mug.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Chris packed the bowl again, grounding himself in the rhythm of it, but his focus stayed on her—the way her fingers trembled slightly, the way she picked at the loose hem of his hoodie.

“Can you talk to me,” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t wanna think right now.”

Chris hesitated. “ Yeah, ‘bout what?”

“Anything,” she said, shaking her head. “Doesn’t matter. Just—talk.”

Chris exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I, uh… I caught Lila trying to sneak marshmallows earlier,” he started, his voice rough. “She thought I wouldn’t notice, but she’s shit at being sneaky. She knocked over the entire bag.”

Star blinked at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chris muttered. “She tried to blame it on me. Said I left it open.”

Star sniffled. “Did you?”

Chris sighed. “Maybe.”

Her lips twitched, just slightly, like the ghost of a smile. Chris watched her carefully before continuing, his voice softer now.

“Tell me more, please.” Star whispered.

Chris hesitated before murmuring, “I used to be scared of thunderstorms when I was a kid.”

Star looked at him, brows furrowing slightly.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. But… I dunno. Guess I don’t mind ‘em so much now.”

Star didn’t say anything. She just leaned into him, her body curling into his side. Chris wrapped an arm around her, pressing a soft kiss into her damp hair. He kept his arm around her, fingers absently tracing over the fabric of his hoodie that she wore.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Chris figured she just needed time, and he was willing to sit in the quiet for as long as she needed. But then he felt her shift slightly, her fingers twitching where they rested against her lap, and when she finally spoke, her voice was small.

“You ever feel like… maybe you’re not supposed to be here?”

Chris’s brows furrowed, glancing down at her. “What do you mean?”

Star let out a shaky breath, sitting up slightly so she wasn’t completely leaning into him anymore. She rested her elbows on her knees, fingers intertwining as she stared down at them.

“Like you’re just… taking up space,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “Like, maybe if you weren’t around, everything would be easier for everyone else.”

Chris sat up too, rubbing his jaw as he processed her words. His gut twisted.

“Danny tell you that shit?” His voice came out rough, sharper than he meant for it to be.

Star swallowed hard and nodded. “He… he said I ruin everything. That I make people feel like they have to keep me around out of pity. That I take up too much space and—I don’t know. I guess I just—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I already feel like that most of the time, you know? So when he says it out loud, it just… it makes it feel real.”

Chris clenched his jaw, his fingers pressing into his knees as he forced himself to stay calm. He wanted to fucking kill Danny.

“That’s bullshit,” he said flatly.

Star huffed out a humorless laugh, finally looking up at him. Her eyes were rimmed red, the candlelight making the wet shine of tears on her cheeks glisten. “Is it, though?”

Chris’s frown deepened. “Yeah, Star. It is.”

She bit her lip, looking away again. “I just feel like I—like I take too much, you know? I mean, fuck, I’m here right now, putting my shit on you when you have way bigger problems to deal with.” She wiped at her cheek harshly. “Your mom is in the fucking hospital, Chris. Lila needs you. And I just—” Her voice cracked. “All I have to deal with is some drunk yelling at me and I can’t even handle that.”

Chris felt that one like a gut punch.

Because those were his words.

The same words he’d thrown at her the night she found out about the dealing. The night she begged him to tell her what was going on, and he’d snapped.

“Help me?” He cut her off with a sour laugh, his tone biting. “You wanna help me, Star?” He stepped closer, his eyes dark and cold. “You can’t even fuckin’ help yourself. You get yelled at, and all logic flies out that pretty little head of yours and you run around this godforsaken town in the middle of the night like you’re invincible—you’re not.”

Chris ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry.”

Star didn’t look confused. She didn’t ask him what he meant or act like she had forgotten. Instead, she sighed, her fingers picking at the loose hem of his hoodie.

“You were right.”

Chris’s head snapped toward her, his expression twisting. “What?”

“You were right,” she repeated, voice calm, like she had already made peace with it. “I mean, I probably needed to hear it.”

Chris scoffed, rubbing his jaw. “That’s a fucked up way of looking at it.”

Star gave a weak shrug. “You already apologized for it. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Chris shook his head, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I shouldn’t have said that shit to you. That wasn’t—” He exhaled, staring at the flickering candlelight. “That wasn’t about you, Star. That was about me being a fucking idiot.”

She watched him carefully. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

Chris huffed. “Then maybe you are.”

That almost—almost—got a twitch of a smile from her.

But then she sighed again, pressing her palms against her eyes. “I don’t know. I just—I feel like I don’t handle things right. I should be over it by now. It’s been years, Chris.” Her voice cracked on the last part, like she hated the way it sounded. “And I still can’t fucking breathe when I think about her.”

Chris felt his stomach twist.

“You don’t just get over losing your mom, Star,” he said, quieter now.

Star’s lips pressed into a thin line, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I used to think if I had just… been better, she would’ve stayed.”

“Like, maybe if I wasn’t so fucking needy all the time, she wouldn’t have left,” Star continued, voice shaking. “Maybe if I didn’t cry so much, or if I was stronger, or if I didn’t—” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

Chris inhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “Baby— She didn’t leave you.”

She blinked at him, her throat working as she swallowed.

“She died,” Chris said bluntly. “That’s not leaving. That’s not choosing to go.”

“I know that,” she whispered.

“Do you?”

She let out a weak, watery laugh. “I mean, I know it. It just—it doesn’t feel like that.”

Chris exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated this. Hated that she carried this shit with her every day. Hated that he couldn’t go back and fix any of it.

But he could be here now.

He shifted closer, reaching out to tilt her chin up so she had to look at him. “Listen to me.”

She did.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Star’s breath hitched, her lashes damp with tears.

Chris held her gaze, unwavering. “You know that, right?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She just stared at him, eyes glassy, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

And then she broke.

Her face crumpled as a quiet sob slipped out, and Chris barely had time to react before she was leaning into him, her forehead pressing against his collarbone, her hands fisting the fabric of his hoodie.

Chris wrapped his arms around her instantly, pulling her close, letting her cry. His hand moved up to cradle the back of her head, his thumb rubbing slow circles against her scalp.

“C’mon kid,” he muttered. “You gotta stop thinking like that.”

She just shook her head against him, her shoulders trembling.

Chris exhaled, resting his chin on top of her head. He didn’t say anything else. He just held her.

Minutes passed before she finally started to settle, her breath still shaking but slower now. Chris let out a quiet sigh, shifting slightly to get more comfortable without letting her go.

After a long silence, her voice came out muffled. “Why does it still hurt so much?”

Chris’s chest tightened. “Because you loved her.”

She sniffled. “That fucking sucks.”

A short, humorless chuckle escaped him. “Yeah. It does.”

She shifted slightly, her face still pressed into his hoodie. “It’s never gonna go away, is it?”

Chris hesitated, staring at the dim candlelight. “No. But it gets easier to carry.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then, softer, “Has it?”

Chris swallowed, feeling something deep and old twist inside him. He knew she was asking about Evelyn. About his grief.

“Some days,” he admitted. “Some days, yeah. Others…” He exhaled slowly. “Other days, it feels like it’s gonna swallow me whole.”

Star was quiet, her fingers absentmindedly picking at the loose hem of his hoodie. Chris thought that might be the end of it, that she’d just let his words settle in the space between them without pushing any further.

But then, after a beat, she asked softly, “Was your dad around when she got sick?”

Chris’s fingers tensed where they rested against his knee. His jaw tightened, his throat working around the answer like it tasted bad. “No.”

Star’s gaze flickered to him, searching his face. “Did he even know?”

Chris let out a sharp, humorless breath through his nose. “Dunno.” He shrugged, his fingers tapping against his knee restlessly. “Maybe. I mean, I’m sure someone told him eventually. We’re not exactly hard to find.”

Star frowned. “But he never…?”

Chris shook his head. “Never showed up. Never called.” His voice had an edge to it now, a quiet bitterness that made his words heavier. “Far as I’m concerned, he could be dead.”

Star flinched slightly at that, but not out of judgment—more like it hurt for him. “You don’t mean that.”

Chris turned to her then, his expression unreadable, but his voice was steady. “Yeah, I do.”

Star’s lips parted, like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t. She just looked at him. Chris could feel Star’s eyes on him, waiting, like she wasn’t sure whether to push or let him sit in the quiet. He didn’t blame her. Normally, he wouldn’t have let it get this far—he would’ve cut the conversation off, made some joke to deflect, changed the subject.

But tonight, he didn’t.

Maybe it was the storm outside, the way it made the trailer feel smaller, like there wasn’t anywhere to run. Maybe it was the candlelight flickering across her face, the way she was just listening, not looking at him like he was broken or like he needed to be fixed.

Or maybe it was just her.

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. His voice was quieter now. “I used to wait for him.”

Star’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Not, like—” Chris shook his head, adjusting his position on the couch. “Not in some dramatic way. Not by the window or some shit. But at first, every time I heard a car pull up outside, or when someone knocked on the door, there was always this second where I thought—” He exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching. “What if it’s him?”

Star’s throat worked as she swallowed.

“And then it never was.” Chris let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Eventually, I stopped thinking it.”

Star shifted, her knee brushing his. “How old were you when you stopped waiting?”

Chris considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Eighteen, maybe?” His lips quirked slightly, like he didn’t find it funny but still wanted to laugh. “I think that’s when I really got it. He wasn’t coming back.”

Star watched him carefully. “Do you think about him now?”

Chris shook his head. “Only when people ask.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, softer, Star asked, “What would you say to him? If he showed up right now?”

Chris blinked. It wasn’t something he had ever really let himself think about.

What would he say?

The easy answer—the obvious answer—was fuck you. But Chris wasn’t sure that was true. Not entirely.

So instead, he said, “Nothing.”

Star tilted her head. “Nothing?”

Chris shook his head, looking at his hands. “ Yeah. There’s nothing to say.” His voice was calm, sure. “If he cared, he would’ve been here. If he wanted to, he would’ve called. There’s nothing I could say that would make him feel any worse than just knowing that.”

Star didn’t argue. She just sat with it, the way she always did, letting the words settle.

Then, carefully, she leaned into his side again, tucking her head against his shoulder.

Chris let out a slow breath, shifting slightly so she fit more comfortably against him. His arm curled around her automatically.

They sat like that for a long time.

The storm outside still raged, wind rattling the windows and rain hammering against the roof, but inside, the world was still. Warm.

Eventually, Star spoke, her voice quiet. “You’re a really, really good brother, Chris.”

Chris swallowed, his fingers tightening slightly in the fabric. “Yeah?”

She nodded, tilting her chin slightly to look up at him. “Yeah. And an even better son.”

Chris hesitated. His fingers twitched slightly against her arm, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but was still debating whether he should. Star caught the shift immediately, tilting her head slightly against his shoulder to glance up at him.

“What?” she murmured, voice thick with exhaustion but still soft.

Chris exhaled through his nose, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I was just—” He cut himself off, sighing, before finally saying, “Tomorrow. When the power’s back, and the hospital’s letting visitors in… I gotta take Lila to see Ma.”

Star stilled slightly.

Chris glanced at her, then continued, “You should come with.”

She blinked, surprised. “You… you want me to come?”

Chris frowned, turning his head to fully look at her now. “Would I have said it if I didn’t?”

Star chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I just—I dunno. I don’t wanna intrude or anything.”

Chris exhaled sharply, shaking his head before reaching out and cupping her face between his rough hands. He made her look at him, tilting her chin up slightly so that there was no chance of her avoiding his gaze.

“You are not a burden to me, Star,” he said firmly, voice edged with something achingly sincere. “You never have been. Not when you first started barging into my house like you owned the damn place, and definitely not now.” He swallowed, eyes scanning hers as if he could force her to believe him just by looking at her hard enough. “Ma would love to see you, only if you want to.”

Star’s expression softened, something fragile flashing across her face. She let out a small, sad smile, her hands moving up to rest lightly over his wrists. “Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll come.”

Chris nodded, watching her closely for another second before he felt her shift slightly, pressing her cheek deeper into his palm.

“Think I could sleep over?” she asked after a beat, her voice quiet but sure.

Chris rolled his eyes. “You were already gonna do that anyway.”

Star grinned, like really grinned for the first time tonight and before she could say something snarky in response, Chris leaned in and kissed her—just a small, fleeting thing, a brush of lips, but it was enough to make Star sigh against him, her fingers tightening around his wrists.

Before the moment could stretch too long, Chris exhaled and pulled back, standing up and taking her with him. “C’mon,” he muttered, already reaching over to blow out the last remaining candles. The trailer was plunged into near darkness, the storm outside still roaring, though not as violently as before.

Chris blindly grabbed her hand, dragging her through the dark toward his room. Their feet barely made a sound against the old floorboards, and when they finally reached the bed, Star didn’t hesitate—she climbed in first, immediately making herself comfortable under the blankets as Chris followed.

They settled easily, limbs tangling together as if they had done this a hundred times before. Star laid against his chest, her ear pressed over his heart, listening as it pounded a little too fast against her cheek. It always did when she was around.

Chris let out a slow breath, his fingers moving up to gently thread through her damp hair, dragging through the strands in a slow, repetitive motion. He felt her sigh against him, her body melting further into his like she could absorb his warmth.

“No droolin’ kid,” he muttered, the words low but teasing.

Star let out a sleepy hum, barely responding. “Mmm, no promises.”

Chris rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything else. He just kept playing with her hair, feeling her breathing even out against him, her fingers twitching slightly where they rested against his ribs.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed awake, listening to the sound of the rain, feeling the weight of her against him. But for once, it didn’t feel suffocating.

It felt like breathing.

authors note: him talking about her mom😓😓 i love writing the soft parts of him, he’s so weird ugh i’ll put him in my pocket.

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