phoebe 🐾

ㅤ⋆ ㅤfratboy! chris ㅤpaired withㅤ ◞ㅤ doe! readerv ❜⠀⠀۟⠀ “JUST A LITTLE MORE, BABY…”ㅤㅤ. . .ㅤ!

✿ ´ㅤ ── WARNiNG ;ㅤsmut,⠀pnv,⠀mild praise kink, ⠀cockwarming to sex and more...

ㅤㅤShy reader squirms in Chris’s lap, scared his brothers might walk in, as he slowly stuffed her full, begging and cumming deep like he can’t stop.

“You said we were gonna watch the movie.”

Your voice is small, pressed somewhere near the collar of his hoodie, muffled by nerves and the heat of everything between you. The room’s dim, the laptop screen flickering weakly from the nightstand, and the low hum of the movie score is barely enough to distract from the fact that you’re sitting on Chris’s cock.

His arms are curled around you, legs stretched out and tangled with yours beneath the throw blanket that barely hides what you’re doing. Your back is arched into him, hands buried in the folds of his sweatshirt like you’re holding on for dear life. Because in a way, you are.

He’s not moving. Not really. Not yet.

I COULD BE A GOOD MOTHER.

almostdad!chris x almostmom!reader

not a lot, just forever by adrianne lenker

warnings! - your baby died :c, sensitive topics, attempted angst.

arriving at an early trip to the hospital when…

two weeks before your due date, your baby is born into the world; only.. their undeveloped body thought otherwise.

“will our baby have the soft blue eyes of her father, or the beautiful eyes of her mother?”

“i still wonder.”

n-no. i-it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

in your arms you coddled your new born baby. she was small, so tiny that she was just the size of your forearm. gosh, her fingers were as little peas and as delicate as bubbles. her skin was soft and a bit slimy.. but her shade was a mix of Chris and you.

although... her chest never rose.

she was still against your hospital gown, the only movement was your chest violently shaking as you sobbed. your hands held her close to your chest, tears streaming down your cheeks.

she was gone. born too early, too soon. it was a stillbirth.

Chris, the father and your boyfriend— was bent over the bed and hovered over you, holding back wails as he ran his hand through your hair to sooth you. his other hand was laid carefully over yours, over the baby. he gently cooed at you and let some tears of his own fall.

“s-sshh.. baby, i’m right here. ‘m right here, ma.”

he whispered in a shaky voice as he stroked your silky hair. his heart was shattered into pieces in his chest, all his emotions coming out of his eyes in forms of water droplets. his baby, his little girl, was gone. and seeing you in this broken, hurt state? only made it harder for Chris to keep himself together.

your biggest fear was coming true. your chest was heavy with feelings. a swirl of sadness, grief, pain, and denial. it felt like you were getting punched in the chest a million times with each gasp, an ache filling your chest.

the doctors informed the two of you that your baby’s lungs most likely hadn’t fully formed when the infant was born. they gave their condolences before slowly exiting out the room and let the two… parents, have their time alone with their baby.

for hours, you and Chris cried together with vague words and your baby girl being handed back and forth. eventually, your baby laid on your stomach once all the tears ran out. Chris slouched against the side of the bed and looked at you with sorrowful eyes, his hand lost in your hair.

“angel.. we have to choose what to do with her soon. give her a name and decide what we want to do with her before we leave the hospital.”

he rasps out in a low voice, glancing down at his baby. his eyes meet the lifeless body and begin to well up with tears again before he quickly wipes them away with his free hand.

Chris’s words just made everything feel more real. the actuality of your baby being alive was slowly lowering as your brain struggles to fight the truth. that your baby was gone.

and you and chris never got to meet her.

a/n : hi i know i disappeared and i probably will again but i just wanted to drop this attempted “angst” because i haven’t been able to feel much lately. am i crazy for writing this? i’m sorry i feel insane.

⠀⊹⠀. 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚ soft dom ! chris best paired with praise-drunk ! reader ׅ⠀𝆬⠀◌

!! smut, praise kink, unprotected sex, use of pet names (baby, mama), etc.

his hips roll slow, deep, steady—just enough to make you gasp when his tip brushes the end of you. the room's quiet except for the wet sound of skin meeting skin, the occasional breathy moan slipping out of your throat like you're trying to hold them back. and chris? he's watching you like he's memorizing every sound, every twitch of your mouth, every tiny shake in your legs as he presses in again.

"y'know," he hums low, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he sinks in fully, "every time you let out one of those pretty little noises, you get a gold star."

you barely register the words before his hips drag back and thrust again, slow and smooth and deep enough that another soft cry spills from you. he smiles. really smiles. that soft, cocky little thing he does when he knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having.

"mm," he hums, like he's thinking. "that one definitely earned you a sticker."

he leans over to the nightstand without pulling out, grabbing a small sheet of gold stars. the edge of the sheet crinkles in his fingers as he peels one off with slow, deliberate care. he doesn't rush—just holds your face in one hand, presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and smooths the star right onto your cheekbone.

"there we go," he murmurs. "good girl."

his next thrust is slower, deeper, and when your mouth falls open around a whimper, he groans under his breath. his hand slides down to your thigh, lifting it a little higher so he can press in closer. the angle makes your breath hitch again and he eats it up like he's starving.

"you sound so pretty, baby," he whispers, hips rocking gently against yours. "makin' such a mess all over me."

his fingers curl tighter around your thigh, the drag of his dick pushing you closer with every slow, praising stroke. when you moan again, high and breathy, he pulls back just long enough to reach for another sticker. this one he presses just above your temple with a quiet, pleased hum.

"two already," he murmurs. "you're on a roll."

you whimper, and his chuckle is warm against your neck as he licks over the pulse there. he stays close, whispering right against your skin.

"doin' so good f'me," he breathes. "always take me so well, mama."

your hands clutch at his shoulders as he fucks into you again, the pace still slow but deep enough to make your toes curl. every sound you give him is answered with more praise, more kisses, more warmth in his voice like he's falling harder every time you moan for him.

"fuck, y'er squeezin' me so tight," he groans. "you close, baby?"

you nod, your breath stuttering as his thumb grazes over your waist. he doesn't stop—just keeps whispering, keeps praising, keeps rolling his hips with that same steady rhythm. another moan slips from your lips and he reaches for another star, placing it right on your collarbone with a smile.

"there's my girl," he says softly. "takin' it like a fuckin' angel."

his mouth follows the sticker with a kiss, then another just below it. your body trembles beneath him, and he doesn't let up—he keeps you grounded with his touch, his voice, his warmth.

"you wan' another one?" he murmurs, pressing one to your jaw. "huh, baby? wan' one right here?"

you cry out when he thrusts in just a little harder, and he grins, dragging his lips over your neck. "that's what i thought."

you start to spill over him with a soft, choked whimper, and chris is right there with you—holding you through it, whispering in your ear.

"that's it, baby," he says, breath catching. "fuck, jus' like that. good girl. so good f'me."

his hand doesn't leave your face, thumb stroking gently as he thrusts through the aftershocks. he presses another sticker to the center of your chest, just above where your heart's pounding, and kisses the spot once before pulling out carefully.

you're still shaking when he leans back and takes in the view—gold stars scattered across your cheeks, your jaw, your collarbone. he grins, then peels off a few more and sticks one to your shoulder, another on your tummy, then one just above your brow.

"you earned 'em," he says, lips brushing your ear. "every single one."

you try to swat at him, but your limbs are jelly, and he just laughs—low and happy—before kissing your temple where another sticker shines.

"if this is how you react to praise," he murmurs, smug and breathless, "m'gonna need a whole new sheet."

𐔌 note from kaeli `𓂃⊹ — based off that one tweet chris reposted on his story a while ago.

click here 222 be added to my taglist ❜

© petalmatt please do not copy, rewrite, or translate my works on tumblr or any other platform.

reader discretion advised !! smut, use of drugs, unprotected sex, creampie, mdni.

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒'𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 a low purple glow, the led lights dimmed to the bare minimum, casting soft shadows across his walls. the buzz of his pc hummed in the background, still lit up from the last fortnite game he'd been in with matt. a lil skies track floated faintly under the hum, barely loud enough to catch more than a beat here and there.

the real focus was between you and chris—him sitting back against his pillows, legs stretched out in front of him, a blunt lazily burning between his fingers.

you were stretched out beside him on the bed, wearing nothing but a black oversized tee that hung loose over your shoulders and a cute little pair of black lace panties that peeked out every time you shifted. the cotton of the shirt clung softly to your skin, riding up here and there as you moved, just enough to keep chris looking. his eyes flickered over you every time you adjusted, pretending not to stare, but failing. his wife beater hugged his torso just right, and the fresh love sweatpants sat low on his hips, casual, effortless.

you took the blunt from his hand and pulled slow, your lips wrapping around it, smoke curling out from your mouth as you exhaled through your nose.

"i definitely believe that dreams are actually memories from your past lives," you said, smoke twisting through the air between you.

chris was nodding, watching you, but his gaze had shifted. it wasn't on your lips because of what you were saying—it was the way your lips looked when you smoked, the way the smoke lingered, how your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip between pulls.

you caught it. the look. that look he gave you when he wasn't just high—he was high and horny.

you tilted your head slightly, that knowing smirk barely there. "what?"

chris shook his head slowly, "nothin'."

you didn't believe him. you never did when he gave you that look. your eyes didn't leave his as you took another hit, holding the smoke in your lungs a little longer this time before you passed it back to him. the tension was thick now, hanging in the air like the cloud of smoke around you. your eyes held his, locked in, heavy with something unspoken.

you shifted up toward the headboard, dragging your shirt up just a little with the movement. you propped yourself up on your elbows, then reached out and fisted the front of his tank top, gently. your voice dropped as your eyes smoldered through the haze.

"c'mere."

your teeth caught your bottom lip as you said it, still holding that look in your eyes. chris moved, slow, deliberate. his body slid between your legs, the heat of his hard-on pressing through his sweats, right against the softest part of you. you hummed low in your throat at the pressure, that slow ache already building.

he passed the blunt back to you as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and boxers, tugging them both down to his mid-thighs in one motion. he didn't bother taking them all the way off.

his eyes stayed on yours as his hand wrapped around his length, slow strokes gliding from base to tip, slick from pre-cum and spit. his lips parted with a soft groan as he ran his thumb across the head. your breath hitched at the sound. he reached down, sliding your panties to the side without hesitation, eyes dipping just once to take in the view.

he dragged his tip through your slit, slow and teasing, catching on your clit just enough to make your hips twitch. your hum of pleasure made him smirk slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"mmm, look at that," he said, voice low and rough. "how y'er coatin' me already."

your eyes followed his, gaze dropping to where his thick length was glistening with your wetness. he looked back up at you, eyes hooded, hungry. you passed him the blunt, and he took it without breaking eye contact, bringing it to his lips for another hit. while the smoke settled in his lungs, he eased forward and finally pushed in, slow, all the way. you let out the softest moan, breathy and drawn out, your body sinking deeper into the bed.

you laid back fully now, elbows slipping out from under you as your knees bent further, spreading wider. your hands reached down, palms pressing gently to the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs open as you looked up at him. his hips rocked into yours slow, lazy, deep. each thrust had you whimpering just a little louder, the sound soft and sweet against the music playing in the background.

he handed the blunt back and your fingers brushed as you took it. your eyes didn't leave his. he leaned down, just close enough to hover above you, and that smirk crept across his face again.

"i'm makin' you feel good?"

you didn't answer. too dazed. too full.

he tilted his head, eyebrows pulling slightly as his voice dropped deeper. "i asked you a question, mama."

his palm flattened against your abdomen, pressing just enough to make you feel how deep he was. you nodded quickly.

"yeah, yeah—shit."

chris gave a slow exhale through his nose and kept his pace, still lazy but purposeful. you took another pull from the blunt, then reached up and tugged gently on the front of his tank top again, pulling him close.

his lips hovered over yours, and you released the smoke right into his mouth, watching his eyes flutter halfway shut as he took it in. he let it out slow, then kissed you—soft, slow, deliberate. his mouth moved over yours with the same rhythm as his hips, and you felt the pressure building deep in your belly.

his lips left yours and started to trail down your neck, sloppy and open-mouthed, down over your collarbone. your free hand was on his back, in his hair, wherever you could put it. you reached to the nightstand blindly, putting the blunt out in the ashtray, then wrapped that arm around his neck, holding him close.

he felt the moment you dropped the blunt—the moment you had nothing to occupy your hands with but him. that's when he started moving a little faster, still not rough, but just enough to catch you off guard. your breath hitched, body jolting slightly. his hands slid under your thighs and pushed your knees further back toward your chest, changing the angle, hitting deeper.

your moans started to spill out more freely now, still soft but louder, more desperate. one hand reached up and pressed against his abdomen, a silent signal, trying to slow him down, to give you a second. he grabbed your wrist gently and moved it away, locking eyes with you.

"unt unt," he murmured, "why you runnin'? take this dick."

you tried again, pushing at his hip with your palm, but he was already leaning down, arms wrapping tight around your thighs to pin them against his sides. a full-on bear hug. no escape.

his mouth was by your ear now, lips brushing your skin as he whispered through his thrusts.

"mhm, now you can't do nothin' but take it… thaaat's it, baby. take it all."

you whimpered, high and breathless. your nails dug into his back as your body tightened, every nerve pulled taut. he kept rocking into you, slow and deep, hitting the same spot over and over until your legs started to tremble.

"chris," you breathed, voice shaking. "m'gonna—"

"go 'head, mama. cum all over this dick."

and you did. your whole body clenched around him, back arching, mouth falling open as your orgasm washed over you. chris didn't slow down—his thrusts stayed steady until his own breathing got ragged, his moans turning into soft, broken grunts.

"where you want me?" he asked, voice thick and low.

"inside," you said, eyes barely open, lips swollen from his kisses.

he groaned deep in his chest, hips stuttering once, twice, then he buried himself all the way in and came with a long, drawn-out breath. you felt him pulse inside you, warm and slow, until he collapsed against you, his body heavy and warm and perfect.

and for a moment, the room was still. the song had changed, the smoke had cleared, but all that mattered was the weight of him on top of you, the afterglow, the heat. the purple lights still hummed overhead, casting soft shadows over tangled limbs and slowed breathing.

࣪𓏲ּ ₊ ׂ ִ solana's corner . . . i'm kinda proud of this even though it's on the shorter side.

chris ditches his deal the second someone tugs his sleeve and says, ❝your girl’s not lookin’ too good.❞

he finds you by the fence, bunny hanging from your hand, your lashes wet, lip all wobbly as you sway on your feet. his whole chest clenches. ❝oh, baby…❞ he scoops you up without thinking, bunny and all. ❝fuck’s sake. can’t leave you alone for five minutes, huh?❞ but his voice is soft. almost fond. ❝got yourself all messy again. jesus.❞

in the car, you babble nonsense, kiss his shoulder. at home, he peels your clothes off gently, swaps them for your favourite jammies, brushing his knuckles down your cheek to calm you. ❝d’you think bunny likes the moon?❞ you slur, blinking up at him.

❝mm, yeah, baby. bunny’s a big fan of the moon.❞ he hums as he wipes your face, pats serum into your cheeks like you’re glass. you hiccup, and he guides you to the bathroom, holding your hair just in case.

once you’re safe in bed, all tucked in tight with bunny squished under your chin, chris smooths the blanket up to your shoulders and kisses your temple. ❝’night, angel. no more pink drinks without me, yeah?❞ but instead of snoring, you wriggle stubbornly and pout, ❝you forgot my kisses. all of them.❞

he laughs under his breath, crouching beside the bed. ❝how many is all of them?❞ you hold up three wobbly fingers. ❝one for my nose. one for bunny. one for my soul.❞

tw: mentions of self harm.ᐟ

It hurts. Mentally and physically, feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest. It's been a month—maybe a little more. But no matter how long you wait for the day for you to wake and think of Chris and not feel anything, it never comes.

It was good, whatever you both had. And you miss it dearly, even with your friends telling you that he wasn't worth it. That you'll find someone better.

You lost a part of you. How could they just say that? Chris was the first guy you've been vulnerable with in years. You showed parts of yourself to him that you wanted to lock away from the world because it was him.

You want to rip your hair out, claw at your eyes, tear at your skin—anything that will temporarily get Chris out of your head.

You're so tired, so drained. It's a cycle.

Smoking to forget, drinking to numb the pain, harming yourself just so you can focus on you.

The entire situation makes you want to disappear off the face of the earth—and you'd say that you would go back in time. Undo every text, every photo you ever sent, every cute name that you called him... but it's Chris.

You're laying on the floor curled into yourself, sobbing as you go through your old texts.

You wonder if he does the same thing, wonder if he even thinks about you anymore or if you're just being insane and delusional over a guy that doesn't even want you anymore.

You were doing good. Barely glancing at his instagram account that you can't seem to unfollow—not adding to the pinterest board you made for the two of you when you first broke up, avoiding the playlist that you made when you got high that one time and you were thinking of him.

But then it hit you. Just like that, like a knife straight through your heart. You're never getting him back. Chris, the only guy that ever truly understood you. You're never getting him back.

You sob harder. Phone dropping from your hand as you curl deeper into yourself, sobs, and hiccups falling from your lips.

"It's for the better. If the universe wanted you guys together, you would be."

You remember vividly your friend telling you, and you remember just how vividly you freaked out then.

Just how you're freaking out now.

Hands clutching and grabbing at your shirt, kicking at the floor like a little kid.

You're not sure if you'll ever get better. But, you're sure if you do, you'll just end right where you currently are. Wanting someone you can't have.

nothing happened in the way i wanted, every corner of this house is haunted. —gracie abrams.

a/n: i still love you, i promise.

"You're so gorgeous, Bambi," he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer into his lap. "Can't believe you're mine."

Your maroon lipstick leaves smudged kisses across his face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. It’s fall—the season where you and Chris get the clingiest. He buries his words into your collarbone, whispering, "My girl. Mine. Mine."

You're somewhere behind Chris's house, in the woods cozied up by the little fire someone made. "Disgusting you two."

And it's true, you'll admit it. You used to be an avid hater of PDA couples, but when it comes to Chris, your hands forget how to behave.

You don't know how you survived, not kissing him whenever you were just friends.

Chris simply rolls his eyes, pressing another kiss to your soft skin. "Like you and Dre are any better." You giggle, Nick scoffs crossing his arms. "Look at you defending him!"

"Nick, it's okay to miss Dre—" You try to get out without laughing and fail miserably, "But can't me and Chris just enjoy the bonfire?"

He huffs, saying, "You're so lucky I love you." Before he walks away.

"I think he officially hates us." You laugh watching him angrily find his way back to his seat, "He'll get over it." Chris says before his lips are on yours, making you forget the conversation you were having.

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, smiling against his lips as he murmurs against your lips. "My girl."

You pull away, "You're a cornball, y'know?"

"You love it." You boop his nose. "I do."

a/n: i want someone badly by jeff buckley on repeat. high (bad habits) by tove lo on repeat. sweater weather by the neighbor on repeat.

FUCK ICE, free palestine, free congo, FUCK trump, FUCK musk, no one is illegal on stolen land, and if u disagree, FUCK YOU TOO!!!

. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ chris loves stuffing you full

⚠︎ smut, raw sex, p n v, creampie, stomach bulge, size kink, big dick chris

“fuck…look at that…”

his voice is quiet, but loud enough to accompany the lewd noises echoing in the room. your body feels hot, your cheeks burning with a red flush as short pants purse through your lips.

chris is hovering above you. his hips slam violently into you over and over again, his eyes trained on your lower stomach as he admires how stuffed you look.

“ch—chris…so big, fuck!” you cry, a brutal moan scratching your throat as he angles his hips perfectly.

“yeah?” he tuts, his movements growing with pride and confidence, “-so big, hm? but you can take it. yeah…fuck, you can really take it all, huh?”

in which: fuckboy!chris toys innocent!reader with a lollipop.

contains: oral (f receiving), lollipop play, teasing, dirty talk, consensual control, bondage (a bit later), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy drunk chris.

you were always hesitant with sex. not because you didn’t want it. you just found yourself getting to worked up building up to undress yourself that you couldn’t have sex. until matt.

matt quickly realized your body tensing up when his hands moved to your hips, when his lips touched your neck, or when his knee found your core and gently pressed against it.

so of course, he asked about it but you got too nervous in the moment to tell him what was stopping you from going the full distance. so he came up with the idea of nonverbal signals.

squeeze his hands three times to slow down, tap his shoulder three times to stop completely.

matt was currently between your thighs, giving you the sweetest kisses against your folds, his tongue parting your folds and gently licking across them from time to time. his hands were resting against your hips, fingers tracing circles against your skin.

you didn’t have an exact reason why, but your anxiety had gotten worse today from other days. no specific reason, just many different things overwhelming you which was causing you to get even more anxious with matt between your legs.

matt keeps his eyes on you, looking through his eyelashes, observing your every movement. your stomach sucking in for a quick second, your throat bopping with your hard swallows, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths.

he pat your hip gently, moving his lips towards your thighs to give you a break with his lips on you, not wanting to break contact from your skin but wanting your eyes on him. your eyes flicker down to his immediately and you could see the concern filling his blue orbs.

you let out a soft breath, embarrassment filling your body as you couldn’t get the words out to tell him what was wrong. your hand finds his with ease, gently interlacing fingers and squeezing his hand three times, a silent “slow down” and a silent “i love you.”

he nods gently, his lips curling up ever so slightly before his lips move up to your hips, finding your stomach and pressing gently, slow kisses on your skin, right next to your belly button.

he keeps his hand interlocked with yours, his grip gentle but tight enough to let you know that he would stop at any time you needed. his other hand moves to your side, his pointer gently tracing words onto your skin, “i love you.” before kissing up your body, his lips barely brushing against your skin.

his lips find yours and he kisses you as gently as possible, like you were a doll about to break. like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

“it’s okay baby.. i’ve got you.”

It should've been impossible.

You still don't know what magic—or divine intervention got your mom to agree.

You really don’t know how you pulled it off.

One second, your mom was listing all the reasons why this trip was a terrible idea. The next, you were nodding along as she gave you the, "Don’t-do-anything-stupid." A week away with a bunch of teenagers, squeezed into a house that was definitely not meant for this many people. Yet, you were still here.

You like it.

Sunny mornings spent flipping pancakes with Dre, the endless hours spent by the pool with Quen, the hunt for seashells with Nick, the plotting of messing with the kids across you with Chris. This is what spring break is supposed to feel like.

The week has blurred into a slow-motion flim of smoke and cheap alcohol. Your feet know the path to the bonfire by heart, your eyelashes fluttering at Chris to convince him to pass you his cart. He always gives into you.

That's why you're where you are now. In the room he picked, face comfortably nuzzled into his neck, arms wrapped around him.

And you're definitely higher than you'd like to admit. "Chrissss," You whine, squirming. "Pool."

He doesn't say anything, too high to do so. But he releases you, nods whenever you tell him that you don't know when you'll be back.

It's late now. You got in when the sun was still high, golden light draped over the water, warm on your skin. You let time slip past, sinking, floating, drifting between the surface.

Chris is just a blur until he waves from below.

You rise, brushing droplets from your face. He smirks. "One of your night swims?"

You giggle, breath still light from the water. "Told you I was going to the pool."

He rolls his eyes, slow, playfully, the two of you circling each other. "In my defense, I was high."

"Y'still....?"

"Guess." Another giggle from you. "You?"

"Guess."

A beat. Then another. Then one more. Just Chris. Circling. Staring. "What is it?" You flick water at him, laughing as you snap him out of wherever trance he's in.

"It's—" He swallows. "Nothing."

You know Chris. He's gonna tell you.

"Everything."

Your eyebrows pull together. "Oh...?"

He's nervous. You see it in the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, "I.... you're my bestfriend, Bambi. But—fuck," His voice falters. "There's been times I've wanted to be more."

Your breath catches. "What...? " You're not angry or anything just.... lost. "Why didn't you say anything? "

He sighs, running his fingers through his damp hair. "It was always Matt." His voice barely rises. "You never looked at me the way you looked at him." He exhales, "I guess... I was just waiting."

Your lips part. "...for me? "

He nods, voice soft. "Yeah."

It crashes into you—sudden, everlasting.

Why Chris is always there. Why people stare when he touches you. Why the kisses linger too long just to be friendly. Why Dre and Nick say you act more like a couple than them.

Why you never pull away.

"Do you think you could ever....?"

Your breath is uneven, chest tight. The air is thick, heavy with something that was always there—waiting, buried under everything you thought you knew.

You meet his eyes. There's hesitation there. Fear. Hope.

And you nod.

Soft. Certain.

"Yes."

Your hand finds his beneath the water, fingers fumbling before intertwining, a silent conformation.

Closer. You're already impossibly near, but still—closer.

Your palm finds his shoulder, anchoring you as your lips finally meet. Soft then desperate. Then inevitable.

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you up, just enough to leave the water behind. Your legs lock around him, like they always meant to.

You made for this.

Made for Chris.

For the way he kisses you until air becomes an afterthought, until you're gasping against him, until the world is nothing but you tangled limbs and ragged breaths and the way his forehead presses against yours.

You were made for each other.

In this universe. In every single one.

( i'm in the dark.) show a little loving, shine a little light on me. — Anna of the North.

a/n: i can't see, can't see it, can't see it. just feeling my way back to you.

. . .

IN ALL SERIOUSNESS this is heavily inspired by this scene from tsip and the hot tub scene from tatbilb! they're finally together ☹️ my babas...