https://www.tumblr.com/loveebot/749031015612399616/which-one-of-your-readers-do-you-think-has-a-bad
chris trying to convince her to take a break FOR ONCE. they’re in her room hanging out—and by that, i mean her studying like crazy and him staring at the ceiling bored out his mind. every time he tries to ween her away from her books, he gets hit with the “this report is worth half my grade” rant
you’ve been studying for your finals for hours, and chris, the understanding boyfriend that he is, has been laying next to you and waiting patiently.
or, at least, he was trying.
every now and then he’d roll over from his back onto his side and admire your side profile before nudging you softly.
you wouldn’t make eye contact—you couldn’t, actually. ‘cause you knew if you did, you’d give in right away. so instead you’d let out a barely audible ‘hm?’ as you continued flipping through the pages.
then chris would kiss you, starting with your free hand, then move up your arm, then your neck—but before he could reach your lips you’d take said free hand and push his face away. “onee sec, chris,” you’d utter. “m’almost done.”
until eventually, your boyfriend had enough. “you’ve been almost done for six hours,” he complains.
you place your book in your lap softly and finally face him. “chris,” he knew where this was going. “our finals are in a week. a week! do you understand? i have less than seven days to study for something that could make or break my grades. y’know i’ve had straight a’s since i’ve been able to, right? ‘nd, m’not planning on breaking that streak anytime soon. i love you, but you’re driving. me. crazy! so maybe just do some of your own studying, we’ll pass together, and when i’m done m’all yours, ‘kay?” he didn’t respond, only staring at you with an adoring smile. “chris?”
“you’re so pretty, y’know that?”
you huff with a pout as you pick your book up again. “who cares if i’m pretty if i fail my finals?”
you’re only able to read the first word before it’s snatched out of your hands. “wh—chris!”
now holding himself up above you with one arm by your head and the other holding said book, chris gives you a smirk. “no more books,” he whispers, tossing it somewhere behind him.
“great!” you whisper shout. “now you’ve lost my page. and i hope you know—i’m totally mad at you.” again, he doesn’t respond, only staring down at you, making you cross your arms. “this isn’t a game chris! i need to stud-“
chris holds up a finger to your lips, “no more study talk either.”
you scoff, ready to speak but he cuts you off by pinching your cheeks together between his fingers and his thumb. “and definitely, no more talking.”
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