AnasAbdin
taylor price
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
will byers stan first human second
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Kiana Khansmith
hello vonnie
Love Begins
sheepfilms
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Sade Olutola
art blog(derogatory)
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
tannertan36
pixel skylines
dirt enthusiast
Three Goblin Art
PR's Tumblrdome
Origami Around
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Germany
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Slovenia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Indonesia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
@fictionalcharactersaremypassion
Hi, all!
I hyperfixate on stuff and my current obsession is Shameless. I love Carl, Ian and Mickey
I'll be taking requests for Carl, Colin/Fiona, Fiona/Iggy and Gallavich :)
I'll also do Pugsley Addams x male or fem reader
I just ask that you keep your requests G or T rated. I won't write smut
Lucy Finds a Gray Hair
He’s at the kitchen table you see, just trying to drink a nice steaming cup of coffee. Lucy’s back in their bedroom, touching up on some makeup before Fred and Ethel arrive so the four of them can go to dinner and a movie.
It’s been a relatively quiet day. With it being his day off, Ricky’s been able to sit and relax, enjoying the presence of his wife, even pretending he didn’t see her hastily stuffing a bill - no doubt from Macy’s or some other boutique she and Ethel shopped at - into her pocket and smiling nervously.
But then he hears it.
“Oh, Ricky!” Lucy wails. It’s distressed and echoes throughout the apartment and Ricky flinches, coffee dribbling down his pristine white shirt. It doesn’t matter anyhow, not when his wife sounds so upset. Ricky jumps to his feet, nearly tripping over them in the process. The sting of the spilled coffee hardly registers, all he can think of is Lucy.
“Lucy?” He shouts and she doesn’t respond. “Lucy, honey, what’s the matter?”
He rushes back there, bracing himself for the worst, taken aback at the sight of his wife laying face down on her side of the bed. She’s sobbing her heart out, and all he can do is stare.
“Lucy...” Ricky sits on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on her back. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
“Oh, Ricky!” She lifts her head, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a bright red nose. “It’s horrible. Just horrible!”
“What? What is it?” Ricky says, concerned.
He doesn't understand what’s gotten her so upset. But there’s this natural instinct anyway, wanting to fix it at once.
Her face crumples up and the words come out near unintelligible. “I found a gray hair!”
Ricky opens his mouth then shuts it, brows furrowed. It’s not what he expected to hear. “What?”
“I found a gray hair!” Lucy cries. She sits up straighter, sniffling. “I was doing my hair - you know the way Ruth had hers done, not Helen, hers was just awful-”
“Yes, dear, I remember,” he cuts her off, sounding remarkably patient. It’s a skill he’s had to master. “Now, what do you mean you found a gray hair?”
“Oh, right,” Lucy takes a breath, “Well, I was fixing it and I saw something up here-” She points to a spot on her head that looks no different than the rest, starting to get herself worked up, the tears filling her eyes again, “And I thought it was just a trick of the light but it wasn’t. I’m getting old, Ricky!”
Ricky has to resist the urge to grin. He can it building - the laughter in his chest - and he knows if he lets it out, Lucy will only cry harder. He schools his expression into something more tender and it’s not as if he doesn’t mean it. He hates to see his darling Lucy cry. “Honey,” a few chuckles slip past anyway as he leans in closer to kiss her cheek softly. “You’re not getting old.”
“Yes, I am!” She shoves him back, standing to her feet. There’s this look on her, somehow offended that he hasn’t agreed with her. “I’m getting old and you’re going to find some other woman and I’m going to be all alone!”
She bursts into more tears.
“What? That’s preposterous! Where did you get an idea like that?”
Lucy falters momentarily, but then crosses her arms and sharply turns. “It’s true. I’ll just shrivel up and you won’t love me anymore!”
There’s an undercurrent of fear to her, and it instantly evaporates any amusement towards the situation. As much as he likes to poke fun to get a rise out of her, which is easy to do, Ricky understands that she’s sensitive about that sort of thing. And it hurts him a little, he has to admit, that she’s worrying he’ll ever want anyone other than her.
“Oh, Sweetheart,” Ricky wraps his arms around her from behind, his chin on her shoulder. She’s tense, not letting herself loosen up and relax just yet. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Yeah?” She says with hesitancy that they both hear.
“Of course,” he says, voice filled with warmth. “I love you. I’ll always love you, honey. You’re beautiful.”
It doesn’t work as planned. Lucy doesn’t believe him.
“No, I’m not,” she says stubbornly. “I’m going gray and I’ll look like one of those horribly old ladies that feed stray cats.”
“Lucy,” Ricky murmurs in between soft kisses on her neck. “Come now; even if you were going gray, you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world. I don’t care what you look like.”
“You should,” Lucy whispers, voice filled with shame. “How can you stand knowing you have an old woman for a wife?”
“Well, I’ve gotten used to it.”
Lucy whirls around, knocking herself out of his grasp and Ricky laughs loudly. “Oh, Ricky.”
“I’m just kidding, dear,” he says soothingly. She scowls, a pout on her lips. “Now come on, would you care if I had gray hair?”
She pauses, and seems to ponder what he's asking. “Well, no...”
Ricky smiles. He kissed her temple. “Exactly.”
“But that's different,” Lucy insists.
“No it isn't,” he says firmly. He's not going to entertain this nonsense any longer. “Estás loco. Now you listen to me, I don’t care if you lost all your color or not. There’s nothing that could make me love you any less, you understand?”
“Yes,” she mumbles. He’s aware she doesn’t quite believe him yet but she’s not arguing at least.
“Good.” Ricky brushes his thumb over her cheek, staring into those mesmerizing blue eyes that have had a hold on him since the day they met.
She chews on her lip, shifts her gaze. “And you...you really mean it?”
He doesn’t answer her verbally, but gently takes her by the chin to draw her in for a sweet kiss. It starts out slow then gradually grows. They move in a rhythm and from there, it deepens. Ricky feels it coming from her - the passion, the desire, the want. Her hands are roaming and gliding through his hair and he grips her waist.
When they have to part, when their lungs burn for air and their cheeks feel warm, Ricky feels a grin take over. It’s wide and smug and despite it being years since they met, he can still get her all flustered.
“Now do you believe me?” He says, breathless.
Lucy, with dilated eyes and a glazed over look, just nods.
“Uh huh.”
The smile turns more tender. Ricky holds her by the waist again, just with one arm wrapped around, his forehead against hers.
“I mean it. There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
“Even if I look old?” She says, still with a hint of insecurity.
Ricky reaches up to take some of her hair and pulls it behind her ear. He hears the slight intake of breath when his finger trails over her skin.
“Even then.”
here's a oneshot idea
Inspired by an I Love Lucy episode (sort of)
A teenage boy (or girl, I haven't decided yet) who lives in the same apartment complex develops a huge crush on Mickey and Ian thinks it's hilarious
Lip, after being woken up too many times: You need to find some way to suppress your libido Mickey, without a beat: I could think about you
Still Here
The right side of the bed is empty.
Iggy doesn’t know why he does it, but he reaches out before his eyes are fully open, expecting to find Carl’s warm body still laying there. Instead, he touches the cold sheet and instantly fills with disappointment that he pushes past.
Ain’t got no reason to feel that way. They’re not- it’s not like that. Yeah, they’re goin’ out and shit, but it’s different. Iggy doesn’t expect him to stay the whole night or do all that couply stuff. It’s fine. Whatever.
He sits up, yawning, ignoring the tugging in his chest. It’s still plenty dark in the room, not much light coming in except for what’s streaming in under his curtains. Despite knowing better, Iggy risks a look around the room and just as he thought, none of Carl’s belongings are in there. The shoes he kicked off last night are gone, so are his clothes and even his phone isn’t laying on the nightstand any longer.
It’s a pussy move, checking his phone like some lovesick chick, but he does it anyway. It’s supposed to be his day off but Carl’s had to go in before so he probably just slipped out and left Iggy a message to explain-
There’s nothing there.
Iggy quickly shuts it off. There’s this feelin’ in his gut now, swirling around. Look, he’s not expecting Carl to be prince fucking charming. He doesn’t expect shit.
But...
Woulda been nice if he was told. It’s a lot to admit this, and he sure as hell won’t say it out loud. But some part of Iggy wishes Carl was still here or at least thought of him long enough to say something. Bit rich comin’ from him, he knows. It’s not like Iggy ever thought of doin’ it before. Usually, he’s a fuck and done kinda guy. The sooner he gets outta there the better. Course, sometimes there were occasions he stayed the night, but that didn’t lead to anything more than some more fucking in the morning. Wasn’t like he made it a habit of seeing those girls more than once, unless they were really good, of course.
Somethin’s changed. Somewhere along the line he got different. For some reason or other. Deep down, Iggy knows Carl’s got something to do with it. A lot of things have changed because of Carl, more than he wants to acknowledge.
He just wishes it didn’t make him feel so damn weird.
There wasn’t any reason to fuckin’ miss him like he ain’t been here for days. God, when did he get like this?
When did he get so weak?
When Carl came into the picture. He thinks of messy hair, crooked grins, that laugh that plunges straight through Iggy’s stomach.
Fuck it.
He wishes the shithead was here. Wishes he coulda touched him like he wants, not in a sexual way - course Iggy ain’t gonna say no to that. Just a brush on his skin, a simple glide through his hair. Anything, any reason to feel him.
It hurts. Hurts that he just up and left. He’s got no reason to expect otherwise, he knows that. They’re not that kinda couple. They’re just not.
He gets it. He accepts it.
Even if he wishes it was different.
A loud clang nearly stops Iggy’s heart right there. He’s taken back all of a sudden, back to when he was younger and dumber and Terry was stumbling around all over the place, making a mess of things.
Then - he hears it.
That familiar voice muttering in annoyance. Iggy can hardly believe it. He slides out of the bed wearing nothin’ but his boxers and decides to throw on a t-shirt just in case.
An aroma wafts through the air. It’s not sweat or stale beer or cigarette smoke. It’s sweeter, Iggy inhales deeply at the same time that his stomach rumbles.
He pads out to where the kitchen is, stopping in his tracks when the first thing he sees is a plateful of pancakes in the middle of the table along with a couple glasses of orange juice already set.
Iggy gawks. He’s just sorta taken aback all at once and can’t form words or anythin’.
And his heart does somethin’ fuckin’ stupid. It skips a fucking beat when he finally notices Carl.
He didn’t leave. Just standing at the stove, huffing as one pancake is stuck to the bottom of the pan.
“Ay,” Iggy finds his voice, and it’s a little breathless, a little awed. Carl spares him a glance, still trying to use the spatula to lift the damn pancake. “What’s all this for?”
He’s still here. Carl just shrugs. “I was hungry and figured you’d be too. I made regular and Oreo ones. There’s some bacon too, if you want it.”
“No shit,” Iggy says, amazed. He can’t remember the last time - or anytime, actually - that someone ever made him breakfast.
The pancake Carl’s been struggling with goes flying. It lands on the floor, one side completely burnt. Carl scowls, muttering, “Fukc,” under his breath.
He doesn’t seem to notice the softened look on Iggy's face. Doesn’t seem to realize how much this means to him.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
Carl looks at him, furrowing his brows. “What, make breakfast?”
This is nothing to him. Just a simple gesture he doesn’t think twice before doing, and once again, Iggy is reminded that despite being raised similarly, their households were vastly different.
Iggy’s not used to kindness. He’s not used to people being thoughtful, thinkin’ about him and all.
“Coulda done it myself,” Iggy mutters.
This makes Carl scrunch up his face slightly. “What’s the big deal? You’re hungry, right?”
He is, it’s just - Iggy doesn’t even know. Doesn’t know here he’s going with it or why he’s not just sitting down, tucking in. He’s starving but too uncomfortable to do much other than stand there.
“I know how to cook, Shithead.”
Carl snorts. “You suck at cooking, Iggy.”
“Do not,” Iggy shoots back, cuz, no the fuck he doesn’t.
“You burned spaghetti."
“So what...” Iggy grumbles, dragging a hand down his face. This got really stupid. “Look-” Carl’s midway to the trash to dump that botched pancake when he stops. The words are right there, he knows what he wants to say. Knows what’s so close to coming out.
But he just can’t.
“They better be good,” he says instead. Carl rolls his eyes, and flips him off.
It lightens things considerably, but Iggy is still on edge, just a bit. While Carl’s back is turned to dump some boiling hot water on that pan, Iggy swallows.
There’s this...weird feelin’ again. It’s not an ache, not a throb like earlier. This one’s different, full of appreciation, something that’s foreign to him.
He's crossing the room before he realizes what he's doing, arms wrapping around Carl. Iggy doesn't know what's come over him, just knows that all he wants is to feel him.
Iggy presses his face in the crook of Carl's neck. His boyfriend doesn't seem to mind, just grumbles a little.
“Jesus, Ig. Warn a guy next time.”
Iggy inhales, eyes closed, breathing in that scent of Carl. He don’t know what it is, some weird shit about himself or what, but the smell calms him. Makes it easier to think. Course, he ain’t gonna say that. That’s a lil too gay for his taste.
‘Sides. That little shithead will just let his ego get huge and he’s got enough of that going on with his own brothers. He don’t need it from his boyfriend either.
It gets quiet between them. A lull that lasts for nearly a minute or so. Slowly, Iggy feels himself relax, just resting against Carl comfortably.
“Food’s gonna get cold.”
“S’fine.”
It’s just...nice, this is. Feels real nice. And well, it makes the truth come spilling out.
It’s not like he means to say it. He doesn’t. Just sort of tumbles out of him.
“Thought you left.”
It comes out quietly, but Carl hears it nonetheless.
“What?” Carl says, confused. He's no longer washing the pan, just still.
Now Iggy's a little embarrassed. What the fuck was wrong with him? He shoulda just sat down and ate. “Fuckin’ forget it-”
“No,” Carl interrupts. He reaches back to grasp Iggy's hip. “What's your problem? Why'd you think I left?”
“It ain't important-”
“Iggy.”
He hears it, the frown. Iggy groans, wishing he just kept his damn mouth shut.
“You weren’t in bed,” he says with reluctance, can practically hear Terry scoffing at him for being a fucking pussy, “thought you just left.”
“I wouldn’t have left without saying something,” Carl says, like it’s simple. Like it’s obvious. “Or a note.”
“Yeah?” Iggy says, a little more hopeful.
“Yeah.”
Well, now he feels fucking stupid.
Iggy backs up when Carl turns around. He’s got this look on him like he’s staring through Iggy.
And then-
“I wouldn't just leave,” he repeats, soft and firm all at the same time.
Iggy swallows. He can't say he knows, there's still this bit of doubt that won't leave.
“Yeah?”
Carl steps forward, just so, maintaining eye contact the whole time, he hugs Iggy properly this time around. Arms around him, cheek pressed against his chest and it kinda catches Iggy off guard because they don't hug. Not really.
Iggy stays frozen for a split second, and then he's holding him back, and they stay like that for God knows how long. Just enjoying this moment.
Our Shirt. Pugsley Addams x fem! reader
I didn't have anything to do mid morning on a Saturday. My roommate was gone so I had the whole dorm to myself which was nice.
It probably would have been a good idea to work on some homework since I had all this free time. But time management wasn't exactly a strong suit of mine either so instead of hitting the books, I was lounging on my bed on my phone.
Super productive, I know.
At some point close to lunch, my head snapped up when I heard a knock on the door.
That's odd. It obviously wasn't my roommate.
But before I could question it, I heard him calling to me. "Hey, it's me. Can I come in?"
Pugsley. A broad grin spread over my face, instantly giddy. But just as I was crossing the room to let him in, something stopped me.
"Shoot," I muttered, glancing down at myself. I'd completely forgotten I'd swiped Pugsley's favorite shirt - his long sleeved black and white striped shirt. It was oversize on me and super comfy and smelled just like him. And while I know he probably wouldn't care, there was no need to tell him about it yet, right?
Right.
I opened up the door as little as possible, ensuring that only my head was visible. "Hey," I said brightly.
"Hey...." he quirked a brow. "Did you want to come with me and Eugene to the woods? We're going exploring."
"Are you forcing Gene to go exploring?" I clarified.
"I didn't have to threaten him that much."
I snorted. "Uh...sure. Just give me a sec, okay?"
"Sure," he tried to come in but I stopped him.
"Uh, just wait out there."
"Why?"
I chewed on my lip. Neither of us particularly cared about the 'no opposite sex in the dormitories' rule. We broke that one more times than I can count.
I really needed to think of something. And quick.
So I did. And I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"I don't have any pants on."
He smirked. "I don't mind."
"Pervert," I scoffed, even though I was fighting not to grin. "Dude, just wait for me to get dressed, okay? I'll only be a moment."
Pugsley stared at me suspiciously. "You're acting weird."
"I'm not acting weird."
.....I said as my tone had gone up slightly in pitch. Nailed it.
"Yeah, you are," he insisted. "What's wrong? Is it those girls again? I can zap them again if you want?"
I had to duck my head a little at that, unable to hide my smile now. It's true, there were a couple girls in a few of my classes that apparently thought I was an easy target. I tried to ignore them, tried to be the bigger person but they just wouldn't stop. And I definitely didn't want to go tattling on them, that would have made it so much worse.
So Pugsley decided to take matters into his own hands. He'd go using his electrokinesis to zap them as often as possible. No one ever caught him either.
"It's not them."
"Then what is it?"
"Nothing," I said, hoping my smile was convincing. "Now just me get dressed-"
The door swung open. Pugsley pushed it easily and I had no match for his strength.
His eyebrows flew up to his hairline. He was grinning, though. "You stole my shirt."
I crossed my arms and informed him primly, "I didn't steal it."
"Uh huh," he chuckled. "So you...what, have one just like it?"
"Yes. Obviously."
"Obviously," he echoed mischievously.
My face heated up. I cleared my throat, fiddling with the sleeves that were over my hands.
"Okay, fine. It might be yours."
"Might be," he repeated, amused.
"But we've been dating for nearly six months so really, it's our shirt."
"Uh huh," he clicked his tongue. "Do we have anything else we're sharing that I'm not aware of?"
"Your jacket and sweaters," I answered promptly, lips threatening to tug into another smile.
"Didn't know I had a community closet."
"Well, now you do," I gave him a sugary sweet smile. A noise of surprise left me when he suddenly yanked me forward, arms wrapping themselves around my waist.
"You're so pretty," he mumbled into my neck.
I wiggled a bit but couldn't really get out of his grip. "I take it you don't mind me wearing it?"
He sighed happily. "I'd kill for you if it meant you'd wear it forever."
"I love you too, weirdo," I kissed his head.
"You know," he said, not yet removing himself from me, "I'll probably need a place to hide out for a bit."
"Why?"
"I switched out Eugene's shampoo."
".....With what?"
"Not important."
"Oh-kay," I said slowly. "And why did you switch out his shampoo?"
"I thought he stole my shirt."
"Why would he steal your shirt?"
Pugsley shrugged. "I made him mad."
"Did you eat his bugs again?" I said with some fond exasperation.
"They're so good."
That was one of his more...questionable interests. I try not to judge, you know? We all have hobbies. His include deadly traps and torture and sometimes murder. It's fine. But the whole eating bugs thing is kinda gross.
"Pugsley," I scolded.
He grinned shamelessly. "I regret nothing."
"You're lucky you're cute."
Okay, so I was thinking and I thought of another rare pair for Carl!
idk how many of you have seen the series Wednesday but I thought of shipping Pugsley with Carl. I think it'd be interesting to explore the differences in their families, how they'd react to that, how they react to each other's differing personalities
Imagine the Gallagher siblings find Pugsley pretty weird and are unsure about him and they really don't think this whole thing is going to last long. That is, until Frank stops by and ends up hurting Carl and Pugsley, who has mild and chill this whole time, snaps. He uses his powers to zap Frank unconscious and the siblings now have much respect for him
idk. I might try writing it sometime
I'm working on that oneshot idea where Mandy has her first period and her brothers have to go to the store for her to get supplies
The doctor, talking about Terry: I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but he's now on life support
Mickey: I told you before you can pull the plug
The doctor: Actually, you need to put that in writing
Mickey: I did put that in writing!
The doctor: A text with a plug emoji and a thumbs up doesn't count
Iggy's Little Burn
“Ah, fuck!”
Carl was sprawled out on the couch, frowning when his boyfriend’s vice drowned out his favorite part of the movie. “Shut the fuck up!” He yelled. “I’m trying to watch TV.”
Iggy came out of the kitchen, glaring. “I just fuckin’ burned myself, Shithead. It hurts.”
“Okay?” Carl said in between a mouthful of chips. “What do you want me to do about it?”
Iggy raised his middle finger briefly, a hiss escaping through his teeth as the top of his hand throbbed. Jesus Christ, this hurt.
“How’d you do it, anyway?” Carl asked, his eyes never straying from the movie.
“I was putting the pizza in the damn oven," Iggy grumbled.
“You didn’t drop the pizza, did you?”
Iggy scowled, taking one of Carl’s heavy boots and chucking it at him. His boyfriend yowled in pain when it smacked him straight in the face. “Fuck you. I coulda burned myself worse.”
Carl threw his legs over, getting up, rubbing the side of his head. “Jesus, just show me, then.” He yanked Iggy’s arm forward to examine it, lifting his eyes back up to roll them. “That doesn’t hurt.”
“The fuck do you mean it doesn’t hurt?”
“You barely burned yourself,” Carl said, annoyed from being taken away from what he was watching. But there was slight amusement in his eyes, as though Iggy was just being dramatic over the whole thing.
“Did not,” Iggy snapped.
“Uh huh.”
“Go put your hand in there if you think so!”
“I don’t need to.” Just to piss Iggy off, Carl flicked the spot. Iggy let out a yelp. He didn’t stand for it, though. And most definitely didn’t stand for Carl snickering at him.
“That’s it.” Iggy charged at him. They were so close to the arm of the couch that Carl fell over it. Iggy grabbed ahold of one of his legs, pushing it up, further than it typically went - comfort wise.
Carl screeched. “Stop doing that!”
“Can’t hurt that bad,” Iggy said mockingly. He made it worse by repeatedly pushing the leg back and forth.
“Quit it!”
“Not so nice, huh?” Iggy sneered.
Carl tried to stop him, but Iggy’s elbow jamming down on his gut stopped him from doing much of anything. “You wanna tell me it doesn't hurt now?”
If he was expecting an apology, he'd never get it.
Caro stared up at him defiantly, voice coming out strained. “Eat...my...dick...”
Iggy narrowed his eyes.
Had anyone came over that evening, they would have seen the couch flipped over, the smoke alarm chirping due to the burnt pizza and a couple of disheveled and bruised boys making out on the floor near their bedroom.
anyone else having problems with ao3?
It's so slow to load or to show tags (like when you search them)
according to is it down right now, it is but then when I look on ao3 status, it doesn't mention anything nor when I look up ao3 on here
it's so frustrating when I'm trying to read
Second chapter of Brutal Truth
here's another chapter of the fic where Iggy feels upset over being treated like he's dumb. Someone requested that Fiona confront Colin to tell him how much this hurts Iggy
Iggy's just a little bit pissed when Carl arrests one of his drug guys
----
Iggy stomped through the place, deliberately ignoring his boyfriend.
Right behind him was Carl, completely aggravated. “You can't still be pissed at me!”
“Watch me, Shithead!”
Blowing out a huff, Carl settled for glaring so he wouldn't throttle the fucker. “I had to do it! It was right there in the trunk. What was I supposed to do?”
“Not fucking arrest him, that's what!” Iggy whirled around, and exclaimed.
Iggy didn't handle it so well when word got out that one of his guys who helped him move drugs around the city was caught and arrested. When he heard it'd been Carl who arrested him, he’d been ready to knock his damn teeth out.
“I couldn’t just let him go!” Carl said defensively.
“Yeah the fuck you could’ve!”
They stared aggressively at each other. Iggy might have been taller, but Carl was not in any way intimidated. He’d dealt with bigger criminals on the streets.
Finally, Iggy snapped again.
“This is why your mom left you!”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Carl bellowed as Iggy stalked over to the refrigerator to grab a beer.
“Cuz she didn’t want a cop for a son!”
“Fuck you!” Carl knocked the beer out of his hand, sending it to the floor and shattering instantly. Iggy wasn’t gonna stand for that; he leaped on top of his boyfriend, and they both crashed onto the tile with Carl crushed under Iggy’s weight. “Get off!”
“Free him then!” “I can't!”
“Too fucking bad for you, then.”
Carl yowled when Iggy’s elbow was jammed right on his sternum. Again and again. “You jackass!”
“Not so nice, huh?” Iggy sneered.
Wasn’t so nice for him when Carl managed to get a swing in- right at Iggy’s nose. The Milkovich flew backwards, cursing out in pain, giving him the upper hand. Jumping to his feet, Carl backed up, making a run for it around the living room when Iggy was no longer seeing stars and attempted to retaliate for that one.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Gallagher!”
“You’re the one that started it!” Carl shouted. “I told you, I had to arrest him!”
They were on opposite sides of the couch, both catching their breath.
“The fuck am I supposed to do now?” Iggy’s hands were on his hips. “I don’t wanna do all that shit myself.”
“Make someone else do it,” Carl panted. “M’sure you could find somebody.”
Iggy stroked his chin. “Not a bad idea. But I’m still pissed at you.”
He received a shrug.
“Wanna make a pizza? I’m starving.”
“Sure.”
Carl joined in step with Iggy, heading towards the kitchen, only to be sharply shoved not even a moment later and landing on the floor in a heap.
“Ow,” Carl groaned in pain.
“That’s for spilling my beer.”
“Asshole.”
“Shithead.”
I've really grown to love Iggy and Carl as a couple
Someone requested (under my fic where Ian and Mickey are at the same restaurant as them) a follow up where the two couples are on a date night or at the next Gallagher family dinner
I think I'm gonna do the first one. Like maybe at a gun range or ax throwing?
The Milkovich brothers being competitive (and Mickey is annoyed at being there but Ian coaxed him into it)
Carl getting cocky about whatever activity they're doing
And as for Ian: if I do the ax throwing, maybe this is something, unlike shooting, that he's not good at and grows increasingly frustrated
When Mickey's drunk out of his mind and out with Iggy doing something he knows Ian won't approve of
Iggy: Mick, just lie! Mickey: I can't lie, man Iggy: Lie! Mickey: I can't lie! Iggy: Are you that honest? Mickey: Nah. I just won't remember the lie
working on the next chapter for Brutal Truth