iluvchr1s

[iluvchr1s]

binged this all in like 2 hrs. SO GOOD. love it so so much

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. crying, emotional, angst, fluff, and more

A/N: I’m not ready to let go 😭💔

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ FINAL ] P31: You Don't Own Me

I feel fucking clueless.

Our final project is done. Shawn and I finished it throughout this past week, trying to rush through all the procrastinated work which left me little to no time to think—which I desperately needed to.

There’s not much time to really do anything but panic. I have to make a decision. Only a week left before I have to choose if I’m packing my bags to move with Chris or not.

And I just don’t know.

“Hey, you good?” Matt asks, his voice layered with concern as he stares up at me from his phone. Mia’s sitting with her legs across his lap, the living room full of three of us on both couches.

“Yeah, um,” I nod hesitantly. The anxiety pulses through my veins, the sight of the sun sinking below the horizon outside making my stomach churn. “-’m fine.”

Mia’s lips slide into a subtle pout, her eyes analyzing me with precision as I grow stiff under her gaze. She knows. I don’t have to hear it to understand that she sees how utterly clueless I feel.

“You sure?” Mia chirps, narrowing her eyes as I nod again.

Somehow that girl could just read me—she could read anyone. Chris hates it. She’s called him out a couple times.

One time, he was just…off. I couldn’t explain it, but she called him out for being all sad, saying he should stay out in the living room so all four of us could hang out.

Chris surprisingly didn’t snap back. He nodded, pulling me into his lap while we all nestled in the living room and played random games.

It’s become a routine now. My favorite games are the stupid ones—the random questions of ‘would you rather’ that made us all rally up with the most bizarre explanations.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back,” Matt says, brushing off his jeans as he stands before walking down the hallway.

My hands fiddle in my lap. I hear the bathroom door shut softly, taking a glance up to see Mia fully leaned forward, her eyebrows lifted as she tilts her head to the side.

“So…” Her eyes dart around the room. I hear the click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth, wincing as she lets out a heavy sigh. “-you gonna talk or am I gonna have to pry?” she questions.

“It’s just…ugh.” I huff, my eyes squinting shut as I try to block out the overwhelming thoughts that had been echoing in my mind every minute of every day.

“I don’t know what to do. Nothing…nothing seems like the right thing to do. Staying here without Chris…like…why? What’s the point? I’d have his family but that…I don’t know…it doesn’t…ugh.” 

My words roll off my tongue with a loud sigh. Mia squints her eyes at me, rolling her lips together before shrugging. “-well—what’s holding you back?” she asks. 

“I…I don’t wanna feel like this is it for me—like I’m only doing it for him, you know?” Mia nods at my words, her eyes full of compassion as she offers a sympathetic smile. “-I just…I think I need to talk to some people first.” 

“Yeah,” she puffs, planting her hands on her knees as she lets out a heavy breath, “-I agree. Go talk, go think—really think for yourself, then make a decision.”

___

He’s rambling. Baylen has been speaking for at least five minutes, telling me the perfect option instead of going with Chris. 

“-Ryan probably won’t mind—we have a spare room in our apartment, you could stay–”

“Baylen.” 

His name falling off my lips in a sullen tone makes his lips fall open wordlessly. I twiddle my fingers together, my eyes darting out the living room window as I feel Trevor scoot closer against my thigh. 

The sunlight beams in through the windows. It feels odd to haven Baylen over here, but Chris said it was better if I invited him over here to talk. He was right. I couldn’t even stomach the thought of seeing the house I grew up in—I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to give another bittersweet goodbye to everything within those walls. 

I roll my lips together. My nose twitches as I feel Baylen’s gaze burn into me. “Ryan…he’s my ex. We dated years ago.” I mention.

His face drops. He shakes his head, his lips smacking open and shut before he lets out a dry laugh. “Wow…I…I really don’t know you, huh?” he tuts, his voice strained. 

I reach over, placing my hand on his shoulder. He stays deathly still. His hands stay rested in his lap, his gaze trained towards the floor as he stares blankly. 

“It’s not your fault, I didn’t tell you—”

“He’s right—Chris.” 

My eyes narrow. Baylen moves, his hand resting on top of mine before he pulls my hand off his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“You…you should go with him, I…” he shakes his head, turning towards me with sad eyes, “-I don’t get to try and swoop in and act like I deserve to be there for you now. You…he’s proven himself a lot. He—he deserves to have you—you deserve to heal.” 

My bottom lip wobbles. I feel a wave of warmth crawl over my face, my cheeks growing hot as my vision starts to blur. 

“Baylen, you tried your best—”

“No. I didn’t.” he says, a soft smile etched over his features. “-I tried my best for me, not for you. Chris…he can take care of you—he has taken care of you. I’m here when you need me, but,” his eyes flicker over my face, his lips tugging into a sympathetic frown, “-but you deserve to feel safe and heal. I…I can’t give that to you right now. He can.” 

His hand squeezes mine. I feel the tears in my eyes flooding my sight, my eyes squinting as I feel a warm streak of wetness glide down my cheek. Baylen tugs my hand tighter, pulling me into his chest before wrapping his arms around me tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice breaks, his arms cradling me closer, “-’m sorry and…and…I hope I can be the brother you deserve one day.” 

A sharp cry leaves my lips. My hands are pressed between both of us as he tightens his arms around me. 

Years of confusion, years of feeling so alone, so hurt. I finally feel validated. All of it was for a reason. He didn’t just stop loving me one day—it wasn’t my fault. It all makes sense. 

And even though it hurts, there’s still hope. 

___

“I’ll get it, just…just sit down.” 

Chris is anxiously pulling any box I try to lift into his own arms. Jimmy and Matt helped us bring over a bunch of stuff yesterday, we had yet to unpack the stacks and piles of everything.

The vacation home was filled with new stuff. My own picture of Baylen and I is sitting on top of the fireplace mantle. It’s a photo of us in his room from a week ago. We tried to recreate the blanket of forts we used to make, he insisted on capturing a good moment so I would have a reminder of him. 

I really liked it.

My hands latch onto a small bin. The plastic handles are snatched from my grip before I can even comprehend what’s going on. I look up with a shocked expression. Chris spares me a quick smile, turning with the box in his own hands before carrying it down the hallway. 

Looking around, I shake my head, rolling my eyes as I see the lack of boxes. I had yet to even carry one successfully. Chris had taken care of every single one, practically running back and forth so there would be no opportunity for me to pitch in and help.

“Here let me—oh? That’s all of them?” Chris pants, out of breath as he scratches the back of his neck. 

I shake my head with disbelief, plopping down on the couch. Chris sits next to me. His weight dibbets the sofa cushions, making me lean into him more. 

A wave of silence beams over us. I look over to see his eyes glazed over, concern laced in his features as he stares forward with his brows scrunched together. 

Moving, I swing my leg over his lap, plopping myself on his thighs. His hands immediately latch onto my waist. Chris stares up at me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of my shirt. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks. 

I tilt my head, cocking an eyebrow as I let out a huff. “Are you?” I quip. 

“Um, I…” He lets out a sigh as I comb my hands through his hair. His eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. 

“What’s wrong, Chris?” I interrogate, worried as his eyes fall with a sullen glaze of sadness. 

“Are you…are you sure about this? I mean, it’s a lot, we’re moving in together—”

“Chris.” I cut off, watching as his eyes drift back up to mine with uncertainty, “-I want this, I want to be with you. Why are you still overthinking so much? I chose to come.” 

He sighs. His hands grip my hips tighter, swarming up to my waist before he lets out a shaky breath. “I just…I don’t want you to feel like I’m controlling you—or like I own you—”

I place my hands on his shoulders. Leaning forward, I let my lips press against his gently. The kiss is brutally soft, a gentle pucker echoing. 

Pulling away, I laugh at his dazed expression. His lashes slowly flutter open, his eyes darting into mine with a glow of adoration. 

“I know you don’t control me, Chris, I…” I cup his cheek, my lips tugging into a smile as he leans into my touch, “-you don’t own me—but…but my heart belongs to you.” 

His face brightens with joy. I smile as he tugs me in a tight embrace, laughing as he peppers kisses on the side of my head. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers, pressing his lips over my jawline and towards the corner of my mouth, “-I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

The chanted mantra makes my heart flutter in my chest. I let myself melt in his hold, smiling as he continues to mutter the same words under his breath. 

“Chris,” I giggle. 

He pulls away just enough for our eyes to meet. The shit-eating grin on his face makes it hard for me to bite back a painful smile. 

“Can you say that again?” he asks. 

“Hmmm….” I pretend to wonder, looking aimlessly around the room before feeling his hands squeeze my waist to pull my attention back to him. He looks into my eyes with hope and pure devotion. I feel my cheeks ache, my smile growing as I bathe in his dreamy eyes. “-what did I say?” 

Chris bites lightly onto his bottom lip. “You know…” His tongue prods from the inside of his cheek, his eyes glowing with love. “-you don’t own me, but…” 

He repeats my words, his gaze searching into my own while his hands give a reassuring squeeze on my waist. 

I let my vision blur, my eyes only blurring everything except for him. Biting back a smile, I let the words float off my lips;

“You don’t own me…but my heart belongs to you.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading along and showing any sort of support! I've adored writing this series and I hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you <333

with love and big tits, rose

[iluvchr1s]

ive had tumblr for a year😨 thats crazy it feels like 3 months ago i just downloaded the app

[iluvchr1s]

fuck. trump. if you support him kindly unfollow me.

if you support that big, dumb, orange cheeto in office, i ask for you to get the fuck off my blog.

i may not be a big or good writer, but i cannot stand what is happening to my people. we are not criminals.

over 25 years ago, my parents crossed the U.S border to give my brother a better life, years later they went back and then crossed it AGAIN to give me a better life. my dad works and pays taxes like any american, he has never committed a felony—unlike that man in office, or even a misdemeanor.

put aside how they— and many others, got into this country and focus on human decency. in no world is it acceptable to be ripping families apart. people are being abducted from their jobs, off the street, their cars, GRADUATION ceremonies, children are being left behind to fend for themselves solemnly because they have "ilegal" parents? OPEN your eyes. NO ONE is ILEGAL on STOLEN land.

we have witnessed this before in Germany. history is repeating itself. we know what happened to Jewish people. we know of the concentration camps. we know of the Holocaust. if we do nothing about this monstrosity happening, the same outcome is destined.

this is NOT about politics anymore. this is about his hatred to my people. there are THOUSANDS of european immigrants, but my people are the ones suffering because of the color of their skin.

so once again, if you support the cheeto, fuck off.

[iluvchr1s]

work of art.

THE SPACE BETWEEN | PT 2 之间的空间

WARNINGS: ONGOING ANGST. AMNESIA/MEMORY LOSS. EMOTIONAL DISTRESS. HOSPITAL SETTING. GRIEF. SUBTLE MEDICAL MENTIONS. FLUFF. HAPPY ENDING.

you go back the next day. and the next. and the next after that.

you bring him stories. photos. playlists. inside jokes he used to quote back to you without thinking. you sit beside him and talk like nothing's wrong—even when it is. especially when it is.

sometimes, he listens. nods along, polite. smiles when you show him pictures of the beach trip from last summer, or when you remind him of the time he fell asleep in the backseat with half a sandwich in his hand. but other days, he's distant. closed off. eyes blank, staring out the window like he's trying to escape a life he doesn't recognize.

and you don't blame him.

not really.

it's just—god, it's exhausting.

to love someone like this.

to hold so tightly to a version of him that only you remember.

some nights you go home and scream into your pillow. some nights you cry so hard your chest physically aches. and sometimes, worst of all, you don't cry at all—you just go still. numb. silent.

like grief has finally swallowed you whole.

but you don't stop going.

even when nick gently suggests you take breaks. even when chris hugs you too long and says, "i hate seein' you like this." even when the nurses start recognizing you by name, even when matt still doesn't.

you go.

because that little sliver of hope?

it's the only thing keeping you alive.

the days stretch. blur. bend.

the bruises on matt's face fade. the bandages come off. he starts to walk again, slowly, carefully. he jokes more with the nurses. gets impatient with the food. his chart improves. but his memories—your memories—stay locked behind glass.

and you're still on the other side.

one afternoon, it's just the two of you again. chris had to leave early. nick's running errands. the hospital's quieter than usual, softer somehow, like the whole building is taking a breath.

you sit beside matt, legs curled beneath you, voice low as you start to talk again. about anything. everything. the night you and him got caught in the rain walking back from that gas station near his old apartment. how you were both soaked, freezing, laughing like idiots. how he wrapped you in a towel and said, "you're the only person i'd ever be this stupid with."

matt's quiet. watching you. there's something in his eyes—tired, maybe, but focused.

and then—

"and then we ordered pizza," he says suddenly. "but the place messed up the toppings. you picked the olives off mine so i'd eat it anyway."

you stop breathing.

your hands freeze in your lap. your heart feels like it just slammed into your ribs at full speed.

your eyes snap to him.

"what?"

matt blinks, like he just realized he said something out loud. "i—sorry, it jus'—popped into my head. like i could see it."

"matt," you whisper, your voice shaking. "you remembered that."

he looks unsure for a second. like maybe he dreamed it. maybe he read it in one of your stories. but then he meets your eyes—really meets them—and something in you shifts.

"yeah," he says quietly. "i think i did."

and suddenly you're crying. not like before. not the grief kind. this is messy, breathless, relieved. you reach for him without thinking, your fingers threading through his, and this time—this time—he holds on.

tight.

like something inside him finally clicked. like he knows you. maybe not everything. maybe not yet. but enough.

enough to start.

you don't let go of his hand.

not for a while.

not even when the nurse comes in to check his iv. not when she glances at the way your fingers are tangled together and politely pretends not to notice. not when matt glances down at your hands like he's trying to figure out when that started feeling right.

because for the first time in weeks, something is right.

he doesn't say much else that afternoon. doesn't try to push it. just sits there with you, his thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles, like he's testing the shape of a memory he doesn't want to lose again.

you don't push either.

you talk about small things. the weather. your drive in. a song you heard that reminded you of him—not in a nostalgic, painful way this time, but softer. lighter.

matt listens.

and more importantly—he looks at you.

really looks. not just like you're someone who visits. not just like you're someone he's supposed to trust. but like someone who matters.

someone who might have mattered all along.

the days keep passing.

and something shifts.

not everything at once. not like in movies where the memories come back all at once with a gasp and a tearful embrace.

no—it's slower than that. quieter.

he starts asking you questions. little ones.

"did we ever go to that diner across from the studio?"

"did i like this show?"

"what was our first fight about?"

and you answer them. always.

sometimes it hurts. sometimes you laugh. sometimes you have to excuse yourself and cry in the hallway because you shouldn't have to re-teach someone how to love you.

but you do. because he's worth it.

because deep down, he's still him.

and sometimes, the remembering sneaks up on him.

like when he's brushing his teeth and suddenly mutters, "you used to steal my toothpaste, didn't you?"

or when a nurse asks what snacks he likes and he automatically says, "anything she brings."

like it's instinct.

like somewhere in the core of him, you never left.

one evening, three weeks in, you bring a movie to play on your laptop. he's in bed, legs stretched, eyes sleepy from a long round of physical therapy. you're beside him, laptop balanced between you both.

it's a film you used to watch together all the time—some dumb, low-budget thriller you both loved to make fun of. and when that one ridiculous line comes on, the one that always made him laugh, he says it with the character before you do.

word for word.

and then he looks at you. startled. then smiles.

that smile—the real one.

the one you haven't seen since before the crash.

"i remembered that," he says, a little breathless. "i didn't even think. it just came out."

you laugh, tearful and soft. "i know."

he stares at you for a long moment. like he's still figuring you out, still drawing the lines of who you were to him—and who you might still be.

and then—gently, quietly—he says your name. like a test. like a question.

you whisper, "yeah?"

he exhales. "i think m'fallin' in love with you again."

you don't say anything at first.

you just look at him—really look. eyes stinging, throat tight, hands folded in your lap like if you move too fast, the moment will break. but it doesn't. it just… sits there, warm and steady and unbelievably real.

"okay," you whisper, voice cracking. "then we'll start there."

he nods. small. almost shy. like he's scared you'll disappear if he says too much. but you don't. you stay.

and from there, it gets easier.

not easy. not perfect. not the way it was before.

but easier.

he remembers how you like your coffee. that you hate mint-flavored gum. that you get carsick if you don't sit in the front. little things. things he never asked to learn the first time, but now listens for like they matter. like they're puzzle pieces.

and he's trying to put the whole picture together.

he starts asking for you when you're not there.

once, you walk into the room and find his head tipped back on the pillow, eyes closed, and you think he's asleep—but he mumbles, "where were you?" like he felt the absence. like it didn't sit right with him.

another time, you're helping him sit up, adjusting his pillows, and he looks at you with this soft, unsure expression.

"can i ask you somethin' kind of… weird?"

you glance at him. "of course."

"did i ever ask you to move in with me?"

you blink, smile tugging at your lips. "once. right before your birthday. you said you were tired of pretending your apartment wasn't half mine already."

he huffs a laugh, a little crooked. "was i romantic about it?"

"no," you grin. "you asked with your mouth full of cereal."

he groans, shaking his head. "jesus. sorry."

"don't be," you say softly. "i loved it."

his gaze lingers on you, and for a second, it feels like the space between past and present collapses entirely. like maybe this is what healing really looks like—not forgetting the pain, but letting it live beside something better.

the next day, he's cleared to walk the halls.

you help him up, one arm around his back, slow and careful. the fluorescent lights above you buzz faintly as you take your time, step by step. nurses pass. other patients. it's a normal afternoon. nothing special.

but to you—it's everything.

at one point, he stops by the window at the end of the hallway. the light hits his profile just right, soft and gold. he looks over at you, eyes squinting a little in the sun.

"do you think we'll be okay?" he asks.

your breath catches.

you step closer, slip your hand into his again.

"i think we already are."

you sit with him one more night before discharge. the room is dim, lit only by the blue glow of a muted tv and the low hum of machines that won't follow him home. his bag is half-packed. there's a paper cup of ginger ale on the tray beside him, untouched.

you're beside him, shoulder to shoulder. close. still.

he's quiet for a long time.

then:

"do you remember when i asked you what we were?"

you glance at him. "when?"

"after the accident. first time i really looked at you. i asked if we were something."

you nod. it hurt like hell. you'll never forget that day.

matt shifts to face you more fully, eyes soft, almost apologetic. "you said yes. almost four years."

you hum. "we were."

"i think we still are," he says quietly. "or maybe we're becoming it again."

your eyes sting, but this time it's not grief. it's relief. it's something like peace. like standing on solid ground again after weeks of drowning.

"i think we never stopped," you whisper.

he exhales, slow. and then—like it's the most natural thing in the world—he leans forward, forehead resting against yours. your eyes flutter closed. the air between you doesn't hurt anymore.

"thank you," he murmurs.

you nod, voice caught in your throat. "for what?"

"for not givin' up on me," he says. "for standin' in the space between who i was and who i am now—and stayin'."

and that's when you realize:

the space between wasn't empty.

it held everything.

every tear. every quiet moment. every second you loved him without being loved back.

and now—it holds you both.

slowly, completely, all over again.

author's note. sorry for the late post, but here's your happy ending!! :)

taglist. @sugarraez @dominicfikeenthusiast @mi-co-uk @zenithsturniolo @tezzzzzzzz @bbgirlmatt @courta13 @grace-sturnz @salaciousxsturniolo @maliaforstvrns @ribbonlovergirl @eyesonmattyb @matts-wife @ariieeesworld @mattybsgroupie @k-pevensie28 ꒱ ₊˚⊹ .ᐟ

to be added to my taglist, please refer to this post.

[iluvchr1s]

it does smth to me🧍‍♀️

it's so sexy when he wears the car keys like that

[iluvchr1s]

why does everyone hate matts actual beard💔💔💔 i think its so sexy. like dont get me wrong hes always sexy and i love the stubble but LORD the beard has me feral.

[iluvchr1s]

i need that

GOT ME TAKING DOUBLE LOOKS BECAUSE THAT AINT EVEN A STUBBLE THATS A WHOLE ASS BEARD??

DILF DILF DILF OMG I NEEDDDDD HIM

[iluvchr1s]

this is the best thing ive ever read

bluecollar!chris x shy!reader

➤ read to me, I like it

Chris swung open the door to your apartment, he dragged his tired feet across the wooden planks with his head hung low.

Today had been hot and tiring for chris, the countless hours of sweating was still evident on his body making him feel uncomfortable the whole car ride home. He accidentally slammed the door shut, the sound echoed through the home making you jump from the bedroom. Chris trudged towards the bathroom frustrated, not uttering a word to you.

The shower started to run, the sound of water making its way to your eardrums. You sat on your bed reading your latest book, eagerly turning the pages moving fast through the storyline. A couple of minutes later he walked out of the bathroom into your bedroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist. Water droplets trickled down his bare chest and back, making him look effortlessly hot. Your attention was now drawn to chris, your bit your lip slightly and forced your eyes back onto the pages. He shook his head vigorously like a dog, trying to dry his damp hair. "How's the book goin'?" Your boyfriend questioned.

"Good. How was work?"

"Shit. But I don't want to talk about it." He gathered his pyjamas that lived permanently at your apartment and boxers from his stash. Slipping his clothing on and jumping onto the bed next to you. Chris sighed heavily and snuggled up to your side. "Can you read to me?" He mumbled into the duvet.

"Why?" You giggled.

"Because I like it." You saw his lips curl up into a cute smile. His hair drying slowly. You sighed playfully and started reading out loud.

｡𖦹°‧

After a couple of minutes, chris had drifted off to sleep, breathing heavily and his body stuck in a comfortable position. You finished the chapter in your head and then softly closed it, placing the book on the bedside table. Shuffling down the bed to get close next to chris, you turned off the lamp and gave a sweet kiss to your boyfriends lips briefly and then nuzzling into him.

"Goodnight chris."

taglist - @whore4chris @courta13 @cherrystainss @leila-marie4 @csturnioloswifey @l0s3rhaha @starryfursturniolo @starsinfrunami @taytaysttpd @sheluvsthesturniolos @tezzzzzzzz @hamzahsn1gf @sturniolo-szn2 @55sturn @metyouinthehallway

[iluvchr1s]

this is so good

lonely, longing nights {chris sturniolo}

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

pairing(s): bf!chris x gf!reader

warning(s): sad, long distance relationship

summary: when chris is away on the surprise party tour you can’t help but miss him.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

the house was quiet.

deadly quiet. your boyfriend wasn’t there to crack any jokes, yell or bounce off the walls, or fill the space with his unmistakable laughter.

it was dark too.

the sun was long gone. the glow of the moon leaking through the window was the only source of light coming into the bedroom. it felt wrong.

you had no reason to feel this way.

at least that’s what you told yourself… over and over and over again. chris was out on tour with his brothers. he was meeting fans and doing what he loved.

your eyelids were heavy as you laid in the cold, empty bed. the time ticked by slowly as you waited for his call. the show had to be over soon and then you could hear his voice.

your gaze was locked on the window, looking at the moon as you answered his call.

“hi gorgeous, how was your day?” he asked excitedly, his voice emitting from the speaker with that unmistakable laugh, presumably caused by one of his brothers.

“it was good,” you answered a little too quickly “how was the show?”

“it was amazing! everything went perfectly and i got to reveal my surprise. you should’ve seen matt and nick’s face! holy shit it was the funniest thing i’ve ever seen! the way nick’s jaw dropped-“ chris recounted the entire show, the bright smile evident in just his voice over the phone.

“-yeah that’s nice babe.” your words interrupting his, something noticeably off in your tone. chris immediately faltered, his grip on the phone tightening slightly as he quickly brought it up to his ear, taking it off speaker.

“hey, you okay? what’s wrong?” his voice now soft and worried.

“nothings wrong, just tired.” you replied, feeling too guilty to tell him the true reason. why would you make him feel bad about being away on tour?

“…are you sure? it sounds like you’re upset..” he said cautiously, beginning to pace slightly inside the tour bus.

“i think i should go to bed. it’s late here, y’know?” the edge in your voice instantly bringing you the feeling of regret.

“…yeah, uh, okay… i love you so much, sleep well, alright? i’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“mhm, love you.” you mumbled in response before quickly cutting the line. your eyes stung as they welled up with all the tears you had managed to hold back throughout the day.

sinking into the mattress you welcomed the tears.

who knew that a tour could feel so lonely?

[iluvchr1s]

ughuhuhuuguhugh im dying

fuuuuuuuuccckkķk

[iluvchr1s]

MATT LOOKS SO ADORABLE AND CHRIS IS SO CUTE I WANT TO CRY AND NICK IS SO AHHHHHH

i never thought i’d see the triplets holding sonny angels and idk how to act

nick looks so precious im gonna throw up

[iluvchr1s]

it does things to me

Chris PLEASEEEE bring the beard back

I’m begging

[iluvchr1s]

why dont you just shoot me in the brain. like hello my two favorite things? sharks and the sturniolos?

They wanted to swim with sharks. We could have had Matt and Chris shirtless, with wet hair and underwater shots. i'm KILLING MYSELF

[iluvchr1s]

literally every time i open this god forsaken app

[iluvchr1s]

holy sexc

His collarbone is so fucking sexy AHHHWTFWTF

I’m squirting

[iluvchr1s]

no bcs why am i even socially anxious on a social media platform. like i want to message some of my fav fic writers and like maybe be moots but IM AFRAID UGH.

[iluvchr1s]

Daddy? Sorry…. Daddy? Sorry…. Daddy?!?!? Sorry….