chris never really wanted tattoos. yeah, they looked sick as fuck on nick and matt, but they aren't him. the same with piercings, they're not so appealing to chris. he can’t imagine himself with a huge tattoo on his arm.

that didn't mean he hated them on other people. nah, tattoos were badass. especially on you. god, you're so sexy, and he'd admit that to anyone.

even just the quotes in delicate cursive, the ink that speak so much words, the tattoo dedicated to him when he drew on your skin.

and especially, that spine tattoo of yours. yeah… that shit is incredible. and certainly looks good from angles he can put you in.

chris sighs as he lays beside you, the movie playing on the tv infront of you both. his mind is way too far gone for that, his eyes focused on the tattoos on your left arm, his fingers gently trailing down your skin.

“yo, you've got to give me a run through, babe.” he began, grinning at you, his tone so soft-spoken in contrast to how loud and rowdy he is with his twin brothers. “i don't know what half of these mean,” he snickers.

“they've got to have some sort of meaning, right?” chris's eyes dart down to your skin once more, while his back rested comfortably against the plush cushions of his couch.