lets see how many tags i can put on this oh yeah am i hip yet

“he thinks he’s the black el chapo”

Originally posted by ianxgallaghers

Originally posted by zaynmoji

requested Carl Gallagher imagine

Carl imagine w the name Kristine please? Where she’s biracial (half white half Puerto Rican) and it’s her sweet 16/ quinceanera (whatever you choose) and she and Carl go to pick her dress?

“Shit,” Carl cursed appreciatively as Kristine crawled up his body and turned to lay next to him, flat on her back as well, before she lit up a joint. She took a hit before passing it to her boyfriend who flashed a lazy grin as he took it, pressing it to his own lips. “If I’d known that staying out of trouble meant getting congratulatory blow jobs, I never would’ve went to juvie” he said in a slightly strained voice as he held the smoke in his throat, before exhaling with a laugh. “Honestly if sucking your dick keeps you off the streets, I’ll do it. A small price to pay to keep your dumb ass from getting shot,” Kristine replied as she rolled off of her bed and finger combed her hair that he had completely wrecked. She picked his basketball shorts up from the floor and tossed them over to him, watching as he slipped on his boxers and then the shorts. His phone vibrated on the nightstand and she picked it up and typed in his password, while grabbing the joint that he was handing back to her. “Fiona wants you home,” she summarized the text before handing him his phone, laughing when he tossed it back onto the nightstand and pulled her onto him; gazing up at her as she straddled him, one hand still holding the joint to her lips, and the other resting on his chest that was still exposed as he hadn’t bothered to pull his shirt back down from its bunched up position at his collarbones. He’d never admit it to her, but just being in her presence completely eased his mind.  “You coming with me? Debbie said she’d fight my ass if I came home without you again,” he asked as he stroked her thighs. Kristine rolled her eyes and sat back on his hips, making him bite his lip, “She threatens me like every time I see her!” “Yeah the pregnancy hormones are really fucking with her. She’s in full bitch mode 5 out of 7 days a week.”

Carl shut his eyes as Kristine leaned forward and lightly touched his lips with her own, exhaling smoke as he inhaled before his hand was tangled in her hair and he was pushing her lips against his. She let out a quiet hum and placed the joint on the ashtray on her window sill and was about to grind down on him when his phone began vibrating again, this time with a call. The teens groaned and untangled themselves from each other before Carl picked up the phone, making a few annoyed remarks to Fiona on the other line, before hanging up. “I gotta go. I’ll call you tonight,” he announced as he pushed her lightly onto the bed and stood up to slip on his sneakers and fix his hair. Before he left her room he rested his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her up for one more kiss, and then he was out her door and stomping down her stairs to get to the front door. But he couldn’t help but stop when he saw his girl’s parents at the dining room table, surrounded by paperwork, sad expressions on their faces.  “You guys good?” he asked as he approached them, trying his best not to check out Kristine’s mom; at least not while her father was in the room. “Hey Carl, how are you mijo” her mom asked him, clearly too lost in her thoughts to ask why he had been in her daughter’s room for an hour on a Monday night with the door locked. “I’m good. What’s up with you?” “Fucking bills, as usual. We were hoping we could throw a party for Kristine’s birthday this year since we couldn’t afford the quinceanera last year but it doesn’t look like we can do it after all the medical bills,” she replied. Kristine’s father had gotten hurt just before work (20 minutes later and they could’ve been swimming in workmans comp) and they lost a huge portion of their income, meaning Kristine spent many nights having dinner at his house.

“I could probably help out,” Carl volunteered, only to be shot down almost instantly. “No, really, she doesn’t want anything crazy. Debbie and I can throw her a little … get together. We can get her like, a dress and shit. She’s not that hard to please; we just need some music and a shit-ton of wee- friends” he caught himself. Kristine’s mother rolled her eyes, but she found herself nodding. After all how can you turn down a free party. After receiving the okay, Carl made his way home and climbed the stairs to his room. But just as he was passing Debbie’s room, her door swung open, and he watched her enter the hall and dramatically look around. “Coulda sworn I told you not to come home without Kristine,” She said, making him roll his eyes. “Coulda sworn I told you to fuck off and yet here you are,” he replied as he continued walking to his room where the door was cracked open and he could see Nick sleeping on the floor, hammer clutched tight to his chest. “Were you with her? Tell her I need to talk to her.” “Tell her yourself, white girl.” “You take your braids out today? I can tell, cuz your hair looks like shit,” Debbie insulted before he could get a word in and just as she was about to slip into her room again, Carl put his hand on the door, keeping it open. “Hey, so her fam can’t throw her that birthday party they got her all hyped about,” Carl announced, and the door quickly swung open. “Oh shit, that’ll be two years in a row.” “I know, and I knew she’d pretend like it didn’t bother her so I told her parents we’d take care of it. I figured we could clean up the crib and throw a party and go get her a dress and shit.” Carl stated his plan, looking at her with an annoyed expression on his face when she leaned against her doorway with a stupid grin. “You’re gonna throw her a party and buy her a dress? How sweet of you, White Chocolate,” she laughed and he just shrugged. “Gotta keep my girl happy.”

Debbie agreed with his plan and with that he made his way to his room and climbed onto his bed after pulling off his clothes and pulling on some sweats. He then grabbed his phone and tapped on the first name on his favorites list, waiting patiently for the phone to be answered, a smirk working its way onto his face when Kristine answered, “Hey, so what are you wearing.”


Debbie tore through the racks in a way that made Kristine cringe. So she found herself following behind the red head, picking up the messes she left behind. “Why are we here again?” she asked, once she had returned another discarded dress onto its hanger. “We need party outfits. I’m trying to meet a rich guy to help me raise my baby, remember?” Debbie lied, she hadn’t tried to keep a secret this hard in a while. Kristine rolled her eyes at her friend’s response, “Yeah I know that you are, but why am I getting dressed up. I already have a man.” Carl smirked, from a rack over, at her response.

“What about this one?” Debbie asked, ignoring her statement to hold up a sheer body suit. “It’s see through, put it back,” Carl replied, before Kristine could make a comment. “It’s sheer, Carl. She can put a bra on underneath it.” “And yet here I am, still telling you to put it the fuck down,” Carl continued, protectively, turning his head back to the rack he was sifting through himself, making Kristine laugh. She walked around the store, waiting for something to catch her eye, and when it did, she quickly pretended that it hadn’t. She didn’t need to see the price tag to know that the little silk dress was completely unattainable. But despite trying her hardest to appear unphased by it, Carl saw right through her.

“Yo, can I get that dress?” Carl asked an employee who gave him a hard stare in return. “Take it off the fucking mannequin,” he demanded and soon enough he was standing outside the door of the changing room, Kristine on the other side. “Can you tie up the back for me?” she asked as she pulled open the door and turned quickly, and he wasted no time tying up the thin string on the back before he rested his hands on her hips and looked over her shoulder at their reflection in the mirror. He let his gaze drop from her pretty face, down to her chest, then waist, then let go and took a step back, examining her ass. “Nah, take it off.” Kristine’s eyes widened at his response to her in the dress and turned to him, “You don’t think I look good in it?” “No, I think you look too good. How am I supposed to enjoy myself if I show up with you in that dress. I’d deadass spend the entire night keeping guys away from you.” “Then,” Kristine started, resting her arms around his neck and pulling him close, “how about we skip the party and stay in. I can wear that little sheer one Debbie picked out; minus the bra underneath.” Carl’s blue eyes stared into her own and he almost found himself giving in before he shook his head, stopping when she went to move the tag away from its position digging into her arm. She pulled it away slightly and her eyes instantly widened before she reached behind her back and tugged on a string, letting the dress unravel from her body before she was shimmying out of it, confusing him with how quick her movements were. “You don’t want it anymore?” he asked, nodding at the dress that was now laying on the floor as she pulled her leggings back on, not pausing as she shook her head quickly in response. “Hell no, it’s more expensive than our rent,” she answered as she picked up her things and opened the change-room door making her way back to the racks of dresses. “Yeah, so..?” “So do I look like I have that kind of money Carl? If I did, we’d have heat and water at my house.” And with that she let Debbie lead her to a different store while her boyfriend hung back. He picked up the little dress and carried it to the register, dropping it onto the counter and raising an eyebrow when the cashier gave him a once over, failing to hide the fact that he clearly didn’t think the teen had the money to purchase the item. Carl sighed and dipped his hand into his back pocket, pulling out a large wad of cash that he flashed in the employees face, “I want this one. So stop fucking around and wrap it up in a box, I want it to look good for my girl. Now, you want hunnies or small bills? Oh and grab that little see-through one to.”

“Fuck, Debbie, really?” Kristine yelled in pain when the flat iron touched her neck. “It’s your fault, stop moving!” “I’ll stop moving when you stop fucking burning me!” Debbie scoffed and finished straightening Kristine’s hair and looked at the girl through the bathroom mirror. They both had their hair and makeup done, but were still in their pjs. “We look so good and we’re not even dressed yet,” Debbie complimented as Kristine pushed open the bathroom door. She had intended to go to the kitchen and grab a drink but decided against it when she saw Nick standing tall in front of the stairs, daring her to try and pass him. “Hey Nick,” she greeted the older boy with a huge smile that made the corners of his lips twitch up slightly before he returned to his normal stony look. When she had started to make her way back to Debbie’s closet and grab the dress she’d gotten, she found herself being pulled into a different room. “I’m not having a quickie before the party,” she announced holding up her hand and making Carl laugh. “As down as I am to fuck you right now, I actually pulled you in here for something else. I got you something.” He then motioned to the box on Ian’s bed, complete with a red bow. Kristine instantly groaned and crossed her arms, “If you bought me another fur coat with your drug money, I’m gonna be pissed, wannabe black El Chapo.” Carl grinned at the nickname and pushed her over to the bed, watching with loving eyes as she lifted up the top and stared into the box, before covering it up again. “Bring it back,” she stated, making her boyfriend frown and grab her before she could leave the room. “What, no, I thought you’d like it.” “I do, but it’s too expensive.” “Nothing’s too expensive for my girl.” Kristine glared at Carl and made no move to reach for the dress.

“Look, I’ve bought you a lot of useless shit, but it’s because I like spending money on you. You’re my girl and I love you and I’m not gonna let you struggle when I can help. And I’m definitely not returning that dress after seeing how good you looked in it. So go put it on, before I put it on you myself.” He watched with heart eyes as her ears turned slightly pink with a blush before she picked up the dress, and started to leave the room. “I’m surprised you didn’t grab the sheer one.” “Don’t worry I grabbed that one for later.”

Kristine slipped on her thigh high boots before standing up from Debbie’s bed and making her way into the hall. When Debbie had told her that Carl had slipped out to make a deal, she hadn’t expected him to be gone until damn near midnight, especially not when he knew that it’d be her birthday the second it turned 12. “Can we go already Debs? I’m getting tired waiting around,” she complained to the redhead who sent a quick text to her brother, waiting for the ‘ok’ before she replied to her friend with a nod, grabbing her arm to lead her down the stairs. When they stepped onto the floor, Kristine squealed when tons of people appeared in front of her screaming the word, “surprise” at the top of their lungs. “What the fuck is this?” she cursed making Carl laugh as the music was turned on and the people began drinking and mingling. “It’s your party; I mean I know it’s not ‘my super sweet sixteen’ but I figured you’d like it,” he answered, nervous about what she’d say. “You bought me a dress and threw me this party? Carl… do you like me” Kristine responded with a bright smile, and he shook his head with laughter. “Yeah I thought I made it pretty clear that I like liked you when we went on that date to the movies and I slipped you ‘the shocker’.” He said with a smirk, laughing through his nose when she slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up. “Too late; I heard and I’m disgusted,” Debbie cut in, before dragging the too toward the party.

As the sun was beginning to rise, Kristine, Nick and both Gallagher siblings were lounging on the couch together, watching late night reruns of old shows. Debbie rested a hand on her stomach, picturing what she’d look like when the bump finally appeared and then turned to Carl and Kristine. They weren’t sitting close to each other, in fact Kristine was practically laying on top of Debbie, but she noticed how they still kept contact through intertwined fingers. “You guys think I’ll find someone who loves me like you guys love each other?” the red head asked, breaking the comfortable silence. Carl raised his eyebrows at his sister before looking down at Kristine who had begun to sit up. “Yeah, obviously. But you’re not gonna find it running around with Frank looking for rich old guys. And you’re especially not gonna find it if you keep being so superficial. Like you thought you loved Derek because you thought he was hot but you didn’t know anything about him. You’re supposed to, like, love all their flaws and know about their hopes and dreams and shit,” Carl answered, looking at his sister, “Like even on their worst day they need to be special. Like Kristine is hot as hell right now in that dress, but I know that when we go to bed she’s gonna wake up looking like a hot mess, but I’m still gonna think she’s gorgeous. Shit, remember when she had braces? That shit was bad. So bad; but she was still fine as hell. And you should know about shit that they’re embarrassed about. I know that she still doesn’t know how to roll a blunt, and that she can’t hold her piss once she’s been drinking so if you’re walking her home you gotta stop every 5 minutes to help her pee in some bushes, and that when she’s brushing her teeth in the morning and she goes to brush her tongue she always gags which is crazy because I’ve never seen her gag on my-” “Okay! I get it!” Debbie yelled, cutting him off and making Kristine laugh. “The point is, I know all this great shit about Kris, but I also know what makes her sad and pissed off and embarrassed and she knows the same about me and we still love each other. You just gotta find someone who sees you at your lowest point and still wants to be with you and make you better.” When Carl had finished ranting he turned to Kristine who had attempted to stay quiet as not to interrupt the sibling bonding. “You okay?” he asked as an emotional smile spread onto her face as she relayed his words over and over in her head, “I’m gonna cry” she admitted letting out a few tears accompanied by a laugh before Carl rested his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side pressing a kiss to her temple, whispering a quick happy birthday into her ear and placing one last kiss just below her ear.

“Okay you can stop now. You already set my standards too high, don’t make this any worse for me.” Debbie groaned as they continued to watch their reruns.

In his defense, it’s been a particularly tough day. Not that any day these days is considered any better but today… today has just a fucking day. A day full of murders and chases and gorgeous detectives being brilliant as hell, and frankly he has a right to be this wound up. This high-strung. This fucking horny.

It’s what he tells himself anyway.

Silence falls over his room at Baker Street, shadows playing across his ceiling as midnight falls upon London and he simply can’t help himself any longer, the ache of holding off burning him from the inside out. His eyes flutter closed as he slips his pants off and tugs his shirt over his head, images of things he’s held private for so long dancing across his vision like movie clips, things he’s never dared to long for, never allowed his waking self to imagine because up until recently it hasn’t been an option.

Now it is.

Or it will be soon.

It’s started out slowly, exactly how John knows it should. A shoulder squeeze in the morning, a gentle back-rub in the afternoon, only recently daring to graze soft kisses over sharp cheekbones and only once or twice have lips actually met.


It’s how he wants to do it, and it’s how he knows Sherlock Holmes needs to do it because Sherlock has never had any type of relationship like this before and John wants this to be utterly perfect for him and so slow is best. Slow is necessary. Ever since that night a few months ago, the night John had woken to Sherlock perched on the edge of his bed, hands fidgeting in his lap, beautiful green eyes wide and round and frightened, that night that John had narrowly missed being swiped open with a switchblade and Sherlock had barely contained his utter panic and somehow everything was different. That night that Sherlock hadn’t said a single word and John had understood. That night that they’d become them. They’d become this.


And slow is fine. Slow is good.

But slow doesn’t douse the fire in John’s belly when he bloody looks at Sherlock Holmes and slow doesn’t make Sherlock Holmes any less beautiful and slow doesn’t stop the fantasies from filling John Watson’s sex-starved brain for the man living one floor below him.

They still sleep apart. It hasn’t been verbally requested, only assumed, and John’s okay with it, though he somehow misses Sherlock every night without even knowing what it would be like to sleep near each other, but for some reason it still feels important. This thing between them is fragile. Sherlock is fragile. And John doesn’t want to go mucking it up just yet. They’ll get there at their own pace. Of that, John is certain.

Though now, as he lays in the darkness alone, slow is not doing it for John’s aching lower half. Not at all. Not when visions are playing around his mind and a naked Sherlock is currently spinning around his head and the idea of his beautiful flatmate on his back beneath John is all it takes for him to mutter a curse of resignation before he’s up on his knees with a hand snaking down his body and a bitten off moan slips past his lips, the fantasy taking full form as John plants a hand against his headboard, leaning forward and rocking his hips into his fist.

Stroking from base to tip, eyes fluttering closed, losing himself in the image in his head in the privacy of his own mind, John Watson gives in, deciding the quiet in the flat is the best he’ll ever get to have a private wank to the thought of his beautiful flatmate currently dissecting something in the kitchen but oh god it doesn’t matter, who the fuck cares what Sherlock is doing right now, all that matters is what he’s not doing, which is that he’s not currently writhing under John Watson, but oh god those curls and those ethereal eyes and those tight shirts and that slender, fit body and Christ Christ Christ.

What would Sherlock Holmes look like in the throws of an orgasm? What would his body do? What would his eyes do? Would he toss that ridiculous head of curls back and moan out loud? Would he bite his lip harshly and swallow any cries? Would he beg for John to give it to him harder, deeper, faster?

John bucks his hips at the idea, his Mind Sherlock currently arching his back as John drives his cock deeper into him, pressing him back into the mattress with a growl. He pictures Sherlock whimpering as John’s cock nudges against his prostate, pictures that beautiful man sliding a hand into John’s hair and holding on for dear life, pictures Sherlock’s eyes rolling back in his head as John delivers him thrust after thrust of pleasure.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” John grounds out from between clenched teeth, grip tightening on his cock as he thrusts forward, body moving as though he’s currently shagging Sherlock into the sheets, practically feeling those long legs wrapped around his waist, almost seeing soft pink skin laid out beneath him. “Sherlock, oh Christ…”

“Oh, John.”

It takes a full six seconds for that voice to resonate around his head before John realizes it’s not coming from his thoughts at all but from behind him, a real voice coming from a real body that isn’t only in his imagination but currently in his room. And before John can stop himself, can drag his pants back up his hips and cover himself and apologize profusely, long, pale arms are wrapping around his torso as a strong, slender form presses up against his back, knees finding their way between John’s, the figure folding itself over John effortlessly. “Oh god, John.” Soft, damp lips press warm kisses along the length of his neck and John can’t help moaning, his hand still flying over himself, unable to stop, unable to think because oh god Sherlock is here, Sherlock is really here and it’s so much better than his imagination. It’s so much better than he could have ever anticipated.

“Sherlock,” is all John can manage to garble, the feeling of his gorgeous partner wrapping around him after so many months of wanting this desperately is almost too much, and he should be ashamed, he should be deeply deeply horrified and apologetic.

But he can’t be.

Not when Sherlock’s hand starts to travel down his stomach, not when Sherlock shushes him softly when John whimpers, not when Sherlock sneaks his hand beneath John’s and whispers, “That’s it, John,” in a growling, fierce voice.

“Oh- Oh Sherlock, I… fuck, ohhh fuck.” John tries to explain, tries to apologize, tries to say something but long fingers are wrapping around his flushed cock and he’s panting, head dropping back against Sherlock’s shoulder, giving over to it, unable to stop it, unable to care that this has all gone horribly wrong but somehow feels unbelievably right. “Oh god, oh my god,” he mutters shakily, hips pumping into that unfamiliar yet so familiar fist, the warmth almost unbearably pleasurable.

“Why are you hiding away up here like this, John?” Sherlock murmurs into his ear, pulling long, deliberate strokes over his cock, fingers gliding to the base and tickling through soft pubic hair before making their way back up to the very sensitive tip, brushing a thumb over the head and causing John to practically sob out a moan.

“I… I… I can’t, I can’t,” John shudders, the very real threat of orgasm hovering just on the fringes of his hazed reality. “I wasn’t… we’re… we are… taking…I… slow.”

“Why?” Sherlock practically growls, his free hand roaming over John’s chest to pinch one of his peaked nipples. “Why are you torturing us with slow, John? Don’t you know? Don’t you have any idea how badly I want you?”

“Sherlock,” John cries out sharply, the touch to his pectorals sending zings of pleasure rippling down his spine and straight to his cock, his own hands finding their way up and over his head and around to find inky curls ready and waiting for him to wrap his fingers in, and he does, taking immense pleasure in the sound of Sherlock groaning in his ear.

“Pull my hair,” Sherlock breathes, moving to tweak John’s other nipple and stroking him faster, and John complies, tugging gently and Sherlock gives a filthy flick of his wrist, moaning John’s name into his neck. John arches harshly into Sherlock’s fist, entire body practically curving into a C-shape as he holds onto the dark curls and fucks the fist in front of him.

“I… I didn’t… know…” John is struggling with his words but maybe words can wait, maybe words can just be put on the back burner for now because the pleasure sweeping his body currently is severe and thick and all-consuming and John doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out until he’ll be happily drowning in it.

“If you’ve been going slow for my benefit, then I am terribly sorry but you’ve been misinformed,” Sherlock continues to murmur in his ear like he isn’t currently rocking every single fiber of John’s being. “I don’t want slow, John Watson. What I want is you. All of you. Every square inch of you.”

“Sherlock.” It’s the only word he seems to be able to articulate right now, the only word that seems to matter at all as he can practically see the tidal wave about to crash over him and swallow him whole into the depths of bone-deep bliss.

“I want to touch you every day, John,” Sherlock whispers, nose grazing John’s ear, the soft touch only heightening the vibrating need in his body. “I want your hands on me all the time. I want to kiss you. I want to feel your tongue touch mine. I want to hold you. I want to press myself against you and feel you. I want to touch your cock. I want to stroke you until you come.”

He punctuates his point with a pinch of a nipple and squeeze to John’s length and John sobs to the ceiling, eyes slammed closed.

“I want to taste you,” Sherlock continues like he isn’t currently playing John’s body the same as he plays that bloody violin of his. “I want to lick your cock and swallow your come. I want to know what you look like with your dick in my mouth.”

John is nodding. Or he thinks he’s nodding. He might just be shaking. Who the fuck cares really because Sherlock’s deep voice is resonating in his ear, explaining in great detail everything he wants and everything John has wanted and he’s about to slip right over when-

“But most of all, John, more than anything else,” Sherlock growls, speeding up his hand and somehow pressing unbearably closer to John, “I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me on my back, on my hands and knees, on my side. I want you to fuck me on the sofa and in my chair and on the kitchen table. I want you to bend me over the desk and ravage me. I want you to take me to bed and let me ride your cock. I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me.”

And, obviously, that’s what does it.

A devastating shiver races down John’s spine and spreads out to every one of his limbs as he falls apart in Sherlock’s arms, fingers tightening in curls, hips throwing themselves into a fist as Sherlock practically destroys him, his entire body shuddering helplessly, wrecked from head to toe as Sherlock works him through it, never ceasing his movements, never not speaking, filling every single nerve of John’s body with pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Gasping harshly, chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath, John falls back against Sherlock, letting his entire weight rest against him, not having the strength nor the desire to hold himself up, his knees starting to ache with the pressure on them but right now it simply doesn’t matter because Sherlock is stroking his chest and his belly and rocking him gently, soothing him back to calm as his body shivers with the aftershocks.

He allows himself to be soothed, eyes fluttering closed, brain attempting to right itself from where Sherlock has practically shattered it to bits, trying its best to analyze the situation and clear the fog and bloody understand what the hell just happened.

But Sherlock is still here. Sherlock chose to come up here. Sherlock put himself willingly in this situation without John asking anything of him.

Sherlock doesn’t want slow.

Sherlock wants John.

Happy warmth fills his insides, replacing the shaking with calm waves of tenderness and John turns in Sherlock’s arms, just slightly, just enough to see Sherlock’s face and smile lazily up at him and whisper, “You mean to tell me we could have been doing this the whole time?”

Looking startled for half a second, Sherlock’s mouth turns from a surprised ‘o’ to a sneaky, pleased grin, eyes crinkling at the corners, cheeks tinged pink. “Yes, John,” he whispers, leaning down to brush a kiss over his lips. “You could have had this a long time ago.”

“Well,” John whispers back, his strength slowly returning to him as he prepares to pounce. “Let’s not waste another minute then, yeah?”

The people I blame for this:

Keep reading

Amore || Jack Maynard

Originally posted by joeck

Requests are currently [ CLOSED ]

Masterlist can be found [ HERE ]

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Jack desperately wants to get a new tattoo, but has no inspiration whatsoever.

A/N: Sorry for not posting much lately guys, I hope I can get back to a regular update schedule at some point soon. But for now bare with me, lovelies!!xx

It all started when Jack was recording a video with Mikey and Conor and the subject of tattoos was thrown around. One of the questions asked what his latest tattoo was, and even though neither of the boys had any idea, the idea of once again getting a new piece of ink got him thinking. He’d known for months that he wanted something else on his right arm, and he’d been scouring the internet for ideas, but came up with nothing.

And then, one day, you walked into his apartment after driving back from visiting Zoe and Alfie in Brighton, and proceeded to immediately sprint into his bedroom and throw yourself at him, laughing loudly when he quickly wraps his arms around you and flips you over so that he was hovering over you. He brushes his lips against your and looks into your eyes with a wide smile which you reciprocated. “What are you doing home so early? Thought you said you’d probably be coming back later tonight to avoid traffic?”

You grin and kiss his lips shortly. “Wanted to surprise you.” You look over your shoulder at the camera and umbrella lights with a squint. “What’re you filming?”

“Well, I was gonna do prank calls; but then I changed my mind.” He says, and you look at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You part your lips to ask why, but before you can he presses his lips back against yours and grips onto your hips; causing you to groan and push him away, only to giggle at the pout on his lips.

You push yourself into a sitting position and kiss him quickly before pulling away and grinning at him. “You need to film.” Even with your insistent tone, he still continued to pout. “How about we film the girlfriend tag? You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” You remind him softly, leaning forward and pushing your thumb across his jutted out lip.

He sighs quietly, and stares at you for a few seconds before sighing and nodding, gripping your cheeks in his hands and kissing you for just a while longer before pulling away and brushing his nose against yours as you look into his eyes with a smile. “I have the questions ready in a file; are we just playing it normally or are we putting a twist on things?”

“Keep in mind that I did just drive for almost three hours straight.” She laughs, looking into the viewfinder and fixing his hair as Jack walked behind the camera to make sure everything was in focus. She looks up at him over the camera and wiggles her eyebrows playfully, laughing slightly when he rolled his eyes and smirked. As he clicked a few buttons, you lean forward and rest your chin in your hand. “Have you heard Lady Gaga’s new song yet?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” He shrugs, smiling down at the camera and worming his way back around to sit beside her at the end of his bed.

She nods slowly and yawns into her hand before talking. “It’s very un-Gaga-like.”

Jack pushed you playfully, throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “Hello everybody, welcome back to my channel. Today I’m joined by my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

She pokes his cheek with her index finger before turning her head and smiling widely at the camera. “Hello! I apologize for looking like I’ve been dragged through a pretty rough hedge, I just drove back from the Zalfie household where I spent the weekend, as many of you guys will already know.” She turns to look at Jack and laughs at the look on his face. “I’m sorry! I’m a talker, that’s just who I am!”

“Whilst I can get a few words in, I’ll let you know what we’re going to be doing today. Now, a few minutes ago I was under the impression that little miss here wouldn’t be home until later on tonight, and so I planned on doing a part two to my prank call video. But, now that she’s here, and I’ve missed her ever so much.” He winks at the camera, and you roll your eyes. “We bought it’d be a good idea to film a video which has been requested more times than I can count. Guys, this is the girlfriend tag.” He raises his arms dramatically, and you look at him with your eyebrows raised.

“I’m assuming you’re going to insert some kind of effect right there.”

“You assume correctly.” He grins, scrolling through his abundance of notes on his phone until he came across the one labeled ‘the girlfriend tag’. He brings up the questions, and silently chooses one in his mind. “Okay, let’s start off with an easy one. When is my birthday?”

You pretend to think for a moment, already planning on playing with him a little. “Um, the twenty-first of November?”

Jack scoffs and shoves her lightly. “You’re such an ass.”

“I know, right?” She grins sarcastically, looking over at him and lifting her shoulders up. “I’m only kidding, mi amore. Your birthday is on the twenty-third, Conor’s is on the twenty-first and Anna’s is on June fourth.”

Jack squeezes your cheeks. “I knew you loved me!”

“Of course I love you, amore.” She rolls her eyes, kissing him quickly before taking his phone and looking for a good question. “Oh! I like this one. What are your nicknames for each other and how did they come to be?”

Jack goes first, seeing as the question was supposed to be aimed at him but seemed to be for the both of you anyways. He rests his hand on your inner thigh as he begins to talk, circling a patch of skin with his thumb. “I don’t really have a nickname for you, I usually just call you babe or babygirl, and then I obviously call you by what everyone else calls you; but that’s it I think.” He shrugs, and you nod in agreement.

“Well, I mainly call you amore, or mi amore if I’m feeling extra nice. And that’s just because of my Italian heritage; I’ve been calling people amore for my entire life, but with Jack, I don’t know, it just feels different.”

“Awh, babe.” He prolongs his words, pulling you onto his lap and kissing you softly. “I love you.”

You grin and kiss him quickly, your foreheads leaning together. “I love you more.”

And that was when Jack knew exactly what tattoo he wanted. Amore, written in a cursive font on his wrist, where he could constantly remind himself of the love he and you shared.

Amore, such a simple word, with such great meaning.

Sanctuary (3/?)

Pairing: Scotty x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1168

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, some yelling and swearing, I’m not awesome at writing accents, so you’ll have to use your imagination on some of this.

New parts of the story will post on Wednesdays and Mondays until we get a whole story out of it! Send me an ask for a tag!


Y/N worked hard until the makeshift Medbay was almost cleared. All the minor injuries had been tended to and all the surgical patients were in recovery. Taking a few minutes for a cup of coffee, Y/N leaned her hip against an empty biobed and sighed.

“That sounded heavy,” Bones said from behind her, holding his own coffee.

Keep reading

Trade Mistakes- Part 2

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam, Cas, Bobby, Crowley, Ben, Lisa

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Sexual Tension, Slight Angst, Season 5-6 Sammy Spoilers, Lisa Speaking (Biggest Warning Of All Tbh)…let me know if I missed anything, bad ass reader

Word Count: 3074

A/N: So, I finally finished part 2, I hope that it lives up to your expectations, because…this has apparently turned into a mini series! Yup, so this is not the last part. I don’t know how many more parts there will be, but I guess we’ll see how this turns out. Please give me some feedback, it’s always appreciated. As always, shoot me a message or an ask if you wanna be tagged in this or any of my other fics.

Part 1


A nuisance. That is what Dean Winchester had become in the past few days. He had been relentless in his attempt to find a way to “save you from yourself” as he put it. He researched non-stop when he wasn’t busy dealing with cases and trying to figure things out with Sam. Meanwhile, you stood by, watching his failed attempts, knowing that at some point he’d find something. He was Dean Winchester after all.

“You know you’re only setting yourself up for failure, right?” You ask him as he takes a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle before pouring himself a glass and sticking his nose right back into his laptop. Upon hearing your comment however, he looks to you with a smug expression.

Keep reading

Can you feel my heart

Pront: Punk!Phil is an employee at Hottopic and Pastel Punk!Dan is also an employee, but they never end up having shirts together until someone switches shifts with dan and ended up having shirts together and then they get lose and after their shifts they can go on a date or just fuck, it’s up tot he author.

So here you go guys, I kinda like the way this one turned out. Enjoy Phillions and Danosaurs :3

Dan liked to call it admiring from a far. Not starring. Admiring this wonderful piece of art called Phil Lester. From his beautifully inked arms to his midnight black hair. He was beautiful. Dan couldn’t help but stare admire from a far, it’s not like he could do anything else, they had never spoken before besides the odd hello in the staff room.  

Dan loved his job working at Hottopic but he loved his breaks more because that’s when Phil worked on the front till. From the coffer shop window, Dan could watch Phil serve people.

After 20 minuets of constantly looking up from his phone to look at Phil, Dan made his way back to the store. He walked in and saw he manager, Katie walking around. “Dan” She called, walking over to him. “Hi Dan, I was just wondering how you felt about swapping shifts with Emily?” She asked. Dan thought for a second and slowly nodded.

“Yeah sure, when would I start?” Dan replied fiddling with the ends of his pastel pink jumper.

Monday?” If that’s okay with you, Emily said that she doesn’t mind work till the end off the week. Dan nodded in response and she gave a small smile before walking away.

After Dan had finished serving the last customer of the night he walked to the lockers where he kept his things and picked up his All time low jacket and slid it on.

The rest of the week was nothing special. Dan woke up, got ready for work, went to work, worked, took his 20 minuet break, went back to work, went home, ate, went on the internet till 3 am and then finally got some sleep. That was how it was for Dan. That was until Monday came around. He hadn’t given it much thought really, he knew that he would be working on the same till as whoever Emily worked with, not much more.

When he finished putting his things in his locker, Dan walked over to the empty till. Whoever he was working with hadn’t showed up yet. He put his head on the desk and closed his eyes listening to the soft sound of Sleeping with sirens playing in the background. He soon shot up when he heard a familiar deep voice.

“So I guess we are gonna be working together from now on then?” Phil said giving a sweet smile. Dan sat up straight and looked at Phil.

“Y-yeah I guess so” He said returning the smile awkwardly.

“I’m Phil” He said still smiling.

“I know-” Dan blushed at how creepy that sounded “-I m-mean I saw your name tag, I’m Dan.” He said pointing to his name tag around his neck. Phil laughed, his tongue poking out the side.

Dan started to sweat from the embarrassment, so he took his pastel green jumper off to reveal a black Muse T-shirt.

“No fucking way, you like Muse!?” Phil said excitedly.

“No… I fucking love Muse!” Dan said before they both burst into laughter.

“I think I am going to enjoy working with you Dan” Phil said looking down trying to hide the blush that managed to creep up onto his pale cheeks,

Every day at work Dan and Phil would talk about their favourite things. Turns out they had a lot in common and with every bit of new information, Dan found himself falling for Phil even more.

When Friday came around Dan put on his favourite black skinny jeans, a thin pastel green long sleeved shirt covered by a black Panic! at the disco t-shirt and a purple flower crown. He looked in the mirror one last time before smiling and walking to work.

When Dan go there he saw Phil waiting at the desk and walked over to him. “Hey” he said before putting his bag down so he could get his name tag out.

“Hi” Phil said not even looking up. He was fiddling with his name tag. He looked some- what nervous.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good” Dan said giving a comforting smile when Phil looked up.

“Uh y-yeah I-I’m fine, just tired” Phil said before walking off.

Through out the day, Phil seemed to avoid Dan more and more. Usually Dan and Phil would talk non-stop.

Dan just got on with work as per usual and didn’t think much off it. Yes, he was upset, very upset actually but he was used to people going things like this. They would talking to him and have a laugh and within a week they would just stop. Dan didn’t have many friends.

As Dan was getting his things out of his locker he was interrupted by a small voice coming from behind him. “Hi” Dan turned around to see a very nervous looking Phil.

“Hey” Dan said turning back around.

“I’m sorry for not talking much today it’s just I- oh fuck usually I am good at this- willyougoonadatewithme?” Phil mumbles.

“what-” Dan was cut off by soft lips smashing against his. It took Dan a few seconds to recall what was happening by as soon as he did, he kissed back. Phil’s hands went to Dan’s hips, bringing him closer while Dan’s went around Phil’s neck, tangling then in his black hair.

When they finally puled back for air they looking into each others eyes smiling “ I said, will you go on a date with me?” Phil said. Dan pulled Phil back in for another kiss, not as deep and passionate as the first but soft and sweet. Dan smiled into the kiss before pulling back.

“Doest that answer your question?” Dan said, smirking. Phil nodded and kissed Dan one last time before pulling away and taking Dan’s hand. “Lets go then” 

anonymous asked:


Send me a number and a pairing, and I’ll do a short (100-300 words max) description. If I get a ton of the same pairing, I reserve the right to pick and choose. (Inspired by an art meme.) 

3. Drunk/Sloppy kiss

Thank you for sending in a prompt! You didn’t specify a ship, so hope you don’t mind that I picked one out!

Words: 1, 387

Tags: Established relationship, gets a little handsy at the end, Plagg is a butt, mentions of Heartrate,

Ship: Ladynoir, Adrienette,

Also Found on Ao3 and FF.

REMINDER: All ML fic requests should now be sent to @spotted-bugaboo! Any ML fics on this account have also been reblogged there under the my fanfiction tag!

In hindsight, it was a terrible idea to let Alya and Nino plan their New Year’s party. By themselves, they were meddlesome devils – together? Honestly, it should have been illegal.

Still, Marinette supposed there were far worse things that could have happened than to have to drag her very intoxicated boyfriend up to his room.

“Adrien, come on,” she murmured, gripping his arm to help stay upright. “Adrien!”

“It’s pointless – he’s completely smashed,” snickered Plagg, clinging to Marinette’s shoulder. “I told him he shouldn’t have gotten into that drinking contest with Kim.”

“Yet he did,” muttered Marinette, sighing. “Honestly, I expected Kim to be goading Alix, not my boyfriend.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think Alix and Kim snuck out together so I doubt there will be any more drinking contests,” supplied Tikki from Marinette’s other shoulder.

Keep reading

FIC: The way to his heart

Title: The way to his heart
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kagami/Kuroko
Summary: There’s something going on with Kuroko and Riko gives Kagami an assigment.
Word Count: 3 311
A/N: This one was sitting on my pendrive since idek how many moths tbh? but then i told totallysharpeyed about my wips and she wanted to read this and I was like, well whatever. she said it’s not bad so I guess I’m posting. I actually wrote this to destress myself from a different fic cue pointless fluff. like really there is not point to this fic. Based kinda on this post, which I found in the tag long ago, and because I am a loser. Also, what the hell? Am I supposed to write all the standard cliches or what? Also, I don’t know if I should tag this because there is no talk of eating disorders but there is some weight loss. idek. 

Keep reading