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lunaticsandidiots · 3 years

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domestic jerome headcanons

request: @rott3nheart: a one shot with domestic fluff where they're still together from the circus and the reader cooks for him (and he likes it) and just tells of their domestic life, it could also be like a head canon

synopsis: jerome being a fluffball

warnings: explicit language, mild sexual content

• despite being the clown prince of crime, an untamable beast, the lost little boy deep inside will always be with him

• and that lost little boy is a sucker for domestic bliss

• the look on his face when he walked into your new apartment? priceless

• immediately he belly flopped on your new king bed and let out the happiest sigh you’ve ever heard

• he swore his heart skipped a beat when he heard you singing along to a motown record on a saturday morning, shuffling around and tidying the mess from the night before

• date nights will ALWAYS consist of chaos, crime, murder and mayhem

• but it’s always made just a little sweeter when you guys flop into bed together (after a shower to wash the blood and sin away), and he just holds you in his arms and lets his guard down

• never ever would he let his guard down like this with anybody else

• but you’ve known each other since you were tiny tots sweeping popcorn off the stands after a saturday matinee at haly’s circus, you’ve known his sweet side for so long, before there were any other sides to him

• so there’s little to no shame felt when you waltz in on him in the bathtub, rubber ducky in hand with a soap beard and a washcloth hat

• and you’ll tell him that dinner’s almost ready as you fling a tea towel over your shoulder and kiss him through the suds

• and eventually he’ll get out and dry off and saunter into the kitchen in his pajamas

• (probably a pair of boxers… thats it…)

• and he feels himself going all mushy as you place the largest plate of pasta you’ve ever seen in front of him

• out of habit he’ll probably smack your ass as you turn away, just to make sure he isn’t going too mushy

• he can barely close his mouth as he just keeps shovelling pasta in despite the lack of chewing, but it’s made even more difficult by the fact that he can’t wipe the grin off his face

• and he’ll be sure to thank you all night long

• so you make a mental note of how good that made him feel, to save for special occasions

• one night after a particularly rousing gunfight between jerome and his cult, and the GCPD goons, he returned home with a limp in his walk and a bullet graze in his side

• it put him in a pretty shitty mood, only managing to hit one of the piggies, to which they scrambled away, far too alive for his liking

• you hadn’t heard of the events that took place but he was home later than usual and you knew that meant trouble for him

• instead of chastising him however, you ran him a bath with his favourite bubbles; strawberries and cream (and don’t you dare tell a fuckin’ soul), and set off to cook up a lasagne fit for a king

• he returned home, immediately met with a kiss as he carelessly threw his jacket on the doormat, his hand in yours as you led him to the bathtub

• you let him do his thing, of course, but made sure to patch up his cut lip and wounded torso at the dinner table

• and again, the lasagne was decimated with a face-splitting smile

• one time, jerome tried to play the housewife

• he tried so damn hard sweet baby

• before you made it up the stairs you heard your fire alarm going off, racing to the apartment and nearly busting the door down in fear someone had ambushed your home

• instead, there he was, in his 5’11 ginger glory, donning a floral apron and madly waving a tea towel around as a pot on the stove billowed smoke

• that one strand of hair that always falls loose was dripping in sweat as he turned to you with a furrowed brow

• “bon appétit baby!”

• you guys ordered takeout that night.

• but there was something special, even about that, squished together on your couch, laughing maniacally at the cartoons on tv between heavy mouthfuls of lo mein and cherry coke

• after dinner you settled into a tom and jerry episode

• and he did that cliche thing where a guy yawns real big to wrap his arm around you

• and he dug his face into your neck

• and you could feel him inhale the scent of your hair

• and you could feel his scars tickle and catch at the soft skin behind your ear

• and he whispered a simple ‘i love you’

• which was usually followed swiftly by a ‘toots’, or a ‘pumpkin’ and a pinch on the tit

• but this time there was none of that

• just you, and jerome, and your little home

#gotham #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #gotham oneshot #gotham headcanon #gotham headcanons #gotham preferences #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska headcanon #jerome valeska headcanons #z’s writing

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naomana · 2 years

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27 "you don't expect me to beg, do you?" Henry/vito 👉🏽👈🏽

Full prompt list here

"you don't expect me to beg, do you?" Henry/Vito

Oooh you are for a treat with this one. It's more fluff then smut, but it's good ♥

Oh, and it's long xD

It was nice evening. Quiet and peaceful. He didn't get many of those, ever since he left Sicily to start working for Clemente. He was always overworked, constantly stressed out and was held on his feet just thanks to strong coffee and determination.

It was thanks to Vito, who offered to make him dinner. At first he was reluctant because Vito wasn't the best cook, but he wasn't the worst either. He saw Luca in kitchen once, that guy was helpless.

He didn't want to question his good intentions, but he was very suspicious. Because when it came to spending time together, it was always Henry reaching out to him first. So for Vito coming out of the blue to invite him over, naturally it raised questions.

"Thanks love. It was.." He was trying to find the right words. It was edible, but he didn't want to be harsh on his cooking. Especially after trying his best. Vito was looking at him with hands crossed on his chest, holding his chuckle.

"Hm? How was it?" He encouraged him but could see on his face he didn't enjoy it that much.

"It wasn't bad love." He said eventually and Vito grabbed his plate to put it in the sink to wash it. He was turned with his back to him, rolling up his sleeves to wash up. Henry always loved the way he rolled up his sleeves, he found it very erotic.

"It was from the Italian restaurant down the road, prick."

"Oh." Henry exhaled and watched Vito's shoulders shaking.

"I fucking burnt the lasagne." Vito said with laugh and Henry let out soft chuckle.

"Oh I see. Well, at least you can say your cooking is on restaurant level. Couldn't tell the difference." Henry stood up from his chair and rolled up his own sleeves so he could help him.

"Doesn't that mean the restaurant is shitty?"

"I was trying to be nice love."

"I know. My cooking ain't the best." Vito murmured and washed the last piece of dish, before turning to him.

For whatever reason, watching each other doing woman's job made them pretty aroused. Vito kept rubbing Henry's exposed forearm, slowly sliding his fingers under the covered part, making Henry almost drop the plate.

"Are you getting all worked up?" He asked him and Vito stopped touching him, lust written all over his face.

"Been waiting all week for you Henry." He grabbed the towel and gently slided it from his hand, so he could throw it away. Henry put down the plate, having no interest to finish his new job as housewife. Stupid dishes could wait.

"I know. Work was keeping me busy." He was pulled closer by his tie. He loved getting pulled on it, like he was the most needed man in the world. And for Vito he was, he was always needed. Because Vito was needy.

Their lips connected in passionate kiss, only separating to undress each other. Dark suit jacket fell to the ground, followed by same coloured waistcoat. Another suit jacket, creamy colour, fell to the ground moments later, followed by black shirt. Henry always loved the combination, but it never suit him. Vito however, looked absolutely stunning in it.

But he looked a lot better without it, curling his beautiful body underneath him.

His tie was pulled on again, leading him to bedroom and pushed on the bed. His back touched the soft sheets, instantly pulling his lover on top of him. He loved fucking him, but he loved making love to him even more.

Another needy kiss placed on his lips, tie finally untied and pulled off. Their hands locked together, before Vito placed them above his head, rubbing his bottom against him in progress.

Henry groaned into his lips, having the best time of his life with that little needy manwhore on top of him.

Then he felt soft fabric wrapping around his wrists and in one smooth movement, his hands were restrained and he pulled away from the kiss, looking at his hands. Then he looked at Vito, who was licking his lips like a cat that just finished the nicest cream in the world.

"We can spice it up a little bit, right?" He asked, eyes all hazy and rubbed his ass against him again. How could he say no? How could anybody say no to that?

"You don't expect me to beg for it, do you?" He asked with soft chuckle and Vito wrapped the tie around the bed railing, pulling on it to bring his hands higher.

"Oh you will beg for it sugarpiece."

Vito kissed him again before reaching for something. Was this little devil planning this from the beginning? Was that the reason to invite him for a dinner?

Henry's vision was taken away by silky smooth piece of fabric and he breathed out soft 'Oh'. Excited and interested to see what his lovebird planned. He couldn't see, only hear and feel. And he felt a lot of things. Limber hands caressing his body, pulling off his pants. He heard Vito breathing out, when he pulled off his underpants and set his hard dick free.

"Having fun?" Henry asked, voice deep and collected. But that was about to change.

"Do you love me?" Vito asked suddenly and his touch was gone. Henry tried to turn his head to listen for him, but he was quiet. Oh oh. Something wasn't right. He knew it.

"Of course I do. Vito?" Nothing. Quiet.

"Vito?!" Maybe he sounded panicked, because he was. He could feel the bed moving and then Vito's touch was back. He could feel his hot breath caressing his lips, he could almost feel and taste them.

"How much do you love me?" He asked and wrapped his fingers around his excited member.

"Hmm. You know how much I love you, love. Keep telling you every time we see each other." He let out soft moan and soft lips, tasting after cherry tomatoes, pressed against his own, kissing him gently.

Then the touch was gone again and he let out disappointed groan. He had no idea why he was asking such a stupid questions. He'd kill anyone without hesitation for him. He'd say 'jump of the bridge' and Henry would ask if he wanted him to do backflip or boring jump, then he'd jump.

His legs were spread and he was finally realising where the whole situation lead to. Oh boy.

"Vito!" He tried to get his hands free, but he was tied up tightly. Madonna mia, he made such a good care of it.

"Thought you love me. Won't you do it for me?" Vito let his hands softly mapping his thighs, his thumbs getting closer to his bottom, before he paused for a second.

Henry couldn't see anything, he couldn't see the way Vito was biting his bottom lip, the way he was watching him like animal in rut, hungry eyes.

Then his thumb rubbed against his hole and Henry panted, not expecting it.

"Vito. We should have talked about it first."

"I will make you feel good Henry. So good. Like you always make me." He purred and Henry jumped up little bit, when first drops of cold lube touched his naked skin.

And then Vito's fingers found way inside, stretching him, curling his fingers to find his sweet spot and.. and he didn't hate it. He was still panicked, but he knew Vito wouldn't hurt him. His Vito would never hurt him.

"Oh. T-there." He moaned loudly when his prostate was touched and Vito attacked the spot again, making him moan like a damn whore. His dick was leaking precum like crazy.

"Like it here?" He was kissed and the spot rubbed again.

"Yeah. Goddamit Vito. Why are you fingers so.. good?"

"Think. What am I doing when you're too busy at work?"

"Oh god. That's hot Vito." He breathed out heavily, thinking of his Vito playing with himself because he was lonely. He didn't even care about the fact, that little devil didn't discuss anything with him first and just took it into his own hands. He had to admit his creativity.

Ah, fuck it.

"C'mon then. You better make me squirm or I'd be disappointed." Henry chuckled and spread his legs even more, happily accepting his love laying between them, slowly pushing himself in.

He loved these quiet and peaceful nights where it was only the two of them. Trying new things, just because.

#mafia2 #henry tomasino #vito scalett #henry/vito #fluff fluff fluff #love this aghh

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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what about steve and billy accidentally bumping into billy’s ex as they move to cali and steve would get really jealous and insecure? billy would invite the guy to their house without steve yet not being there, but as he walks in he can hear the guy say ”i want you so bad billy” etc and steve’s heart would drop. obviously billy wouldn’t do shit because he’s with steve, but there’s still gonna be arguing between them. (also if you want, some hot smut at the end would be great too)

They hadn’t even been in California one week.

And Billy had already bumped into an ex.

He had told Steve about the guy, basically Billy’s own Tommy H. He was Billy’s first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time. They had broken up long before Billy ever went to Hawkins, when they realized they’re both young and didn’t need to be settled down together, but they remained close, would go on dates when they’re both single, would fuck if the opportunity presented itself.

They saw him at the beach, Billy laying next to Steve on their huge towel, slathering sunscreen all over Steve’s pale skin, laughing at him as he rubbed it onto his nose.

“Billy Hargrove?”

“Holy shit, Danny Cade.”

They had hugged, and Billy had introduced him to Steve, told Danny about how he and Steve had packed their shit and left one night, no plans, no place to stay, just the Camaro, money from the pool and Scoop and Steve’s college fund, had slept in the backseat of the car for a week or so until they found a tiny apartment, invited him over for dinner the next night.

So Steve played housewife, cooked a nice meal on their meager budget while Billy was at work, the garage he used to work weekends at. Steve had been spending most days canvasing for jobs for himself, but tonight he wanted everything to be perfect.

He felt like his mother.

But Billy came home, they made out for a while against the counter in the kitchen when the buzzer went off and Billy had to let Danny in.

Danny was a nice guy, had a bright laugh and a lot of funny stories, but he was what Steve would’ve imagined Billy to end up with, a hot surfer type, all tan with thick muscles and a broad chest. His hair was as wild as Billy’s got after a day in the salt water, all curly and messy in such a perfect way. Steve knew Billy loved him in Hawkins, where he was probably the best the tiny shitty Midwest town had to offer, but here, in this golden state fulla golden people, Steve was pale and thin and gangly with skin that burned and spotted in the sun.

So it wasn’t a surprise when he returned from the bathroom to see Danny caging Billy in, his arms gripping the counter on wither side of Billy’s hips. He was saying something to Billy who’s face Steve couldn’t see.

“You know you still feel the same, there’s no way you don’t still love me. And c’mon, Billy. You’re not in that shithole anymore, you don’t have to settle.”

“I’m not fucking settling, you piece of shit. I fucking love Steve.”

“But he’s not, you know you’d be happier with me.” And then he fucking leaned in to fucking kiss Billy and Steve;s heart stopped.

Danny went flying, his back hitting the opposite wall.

“You are a fucking asshole. I’m happy here with Steve, don’t you dare try to do this, you are nothing to me.” Steve walked into the kitchen, finally making himself known.

“I think you should leave our home.” Billy turned to Steve, looking at him with wide eyes, pleading. “Danny, get out.”

Billy looked smug, turning back to Danny, still against the wall.

“You heard him. Get the fuck out.” Danny looked floored, looking between Steve and Billy, not moving from his spot. “NOW!”He flinched as Billy roared, sweeping past Steve to leave the little apartment, slamming the door behind him. Billy was in front of Steve in a flash, his hands soothing his shoulders.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. You know I would never choose anyone over you. You know that, right?”

“I know, Bill. I trust you.” He pressed a soft kiss to Billy’s lips.

“I love you, more than anything. You’re my whole fucking world.”

“I love you too, Bill. Like, a whole lot.”

#yikes writes #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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oforamuse · 4 years

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alone without you (by my side)

five times mickey milkovich misses ian gallagher + the one time he doesn’t have to

read on ao3 // tw slurs

juvie

Mickey is horny. Mickey is really fucking horny. Out of his mind, he doesn't know which way is up, teenage freak kind of horny. Getting laid in juvie is a difficult job if he wants to keep his status of ‘not to be fucked with’, plus recovering from a taking a bullet in his leg means he can’t exactly approach anyone subtly (fuck you, Kash). He’s still got a few months to go before he’s released back into the world and he can’t fucking wait, practically counting down the days. Mickey didn’t think there would ever be a day that he would actually miss the shithole South Side, but he does. He misses the loud streets and the broken windows, the L and even the fucking Kash and Grab. He misses…

No, no he doesn’t. He just wants, needs, to get laid.

Laid by Ian Gallagher.

Fuck, Mickey thinks, being betrayed by your own subconscious fucking sucks. He needs to be laid by that freckly ginger fuck soon or he may actually lose his mind (what he has left of it, anyway). Besides, he doesn’t actually miss the kid he just misses his dick. That’s it. He couldn’t give a shit about that Gallagher fuck. He really couldn’t. Not. A. Shit.

Really.

He runs his hand through his hair out of frustration, stop being so fucking dramatic Milkovich, since when did he get this fucking ridiculous?

He rolls his eyes at himself, 2 months to go.

Until then though, it’s him and his trustly right hand alone. Resigning with a sigh, Mickey swings his legs over his bunk and jumps down deftly from the top.

‘Fuck you going?’ Jay, his roommate, asks absentmindedly from where he’s been throwing a ball against the wall and catching it on the other side of the room. Jay’s not one for useful recreational activities.

‘None of your fucking business that’s where’ Mickey snaps, grabbing his towel off the hook and swaggering out into the hall. He walks the short distance to the communal bathroom, it’s midday he should be alright, and locks the door behind him.

His trusty right hand indeed.

married life

His knuckles sting as he runs them under cool water in the kitchen, he’s pretty certain he’s got some glass in there somewhere.

Fucking stupid.

‘The fuck happened to your hand?’ Iggy grunts from where he sits at the table, nursing a beer in one hand and a wad of cash in the other. Who the fuck is giving Iggy cash? Ignoring him, Mickey watches the blood mix in with the water as it gets sucked down the drain and into the sewers. He wishes he could go down with it, down below his house, below the sidewalk, below every single person who knows his name and get sucked into the drain of the fucking earth. Anything to stop the dull ache in his stomach, the ache that feels like someone has force fed him stones, weighing down his every step. The ache that constantly reminds him, no matter where he is or what he’s doing, of Ian fucking Gallagher. Ian, who he hasn’t seen or heard from in over a week, not since he stood in his doorway and told him he was fucking off to the army. Not since Mickey’s eyes stung with tears and ‘please don’t go, please don’t leave me, stay, stay, stay, stay’ threatened to fall out of his mouth and onto the floor between them.

‘Don’t what?’ Ian had asked, but Mickey knew what he really had been saying.

You know what the fuck I mean to you, Milkovich. Are you man enough to admit it? To make me stay?

No, he wasn’t, Mickey thinks darkly. The ache getting heavier at the recalled memory. Mandy had called him a pussy, she was right. He is a pussy, a pussy who allowed himself to get this fucked up over a boy, a boy he tells himself every single day that he doesn’t give a shit about.

He doesn’t know where the shift happened, where the thing with Ian went from banging to…to this emotional shit. Sometimes he feels so much he thinks he’ll drown in it, drown in what he feels for Ian, for men, for what he doesn’t feel towards women. What he should and shouldn’t feel. He doesn’t know when the shift happened but he knows there definitely was one. A moment of clarity, of something clicking into place between the two of them and the entire world changing. Was it the hot summer evenings they spent at the dugout? The hours in the Kash and Grab, between working and fucking? Was it those last few moments of ignorant bliss before his dad came crashing in and their false sense of security fell to the ground? He remembers every single fucking moment of that morning and it makes his skin crawl.

Get the fuck off him get the fuck off him get the fuck off-

‘Asshole, you’re running up our water bill’

Mickey’s snapped back to the kitchen, the water still flowing out of the tap, though there’s no trace of blood left. His other hand grips tightly to the counter top, almost painfully. Lord fucking knows how long he’s been standing there lost, Iggy’s now gone and Mandy stands with a disgusted look on her face, leaning against the fridge.

‘Fuck off’ He grunts, turning off the running water and walking straight past her to his room, not looking back once.

prison

6 months, 3 days, 2 hours and a handful of minutes, give or take a few, according to the scratches on Mickey’s bed post.

Over 6 fucking months since he last saw…Ian.

Mickey’s heart jumps right up into his throat at the realisation and he feels like he’s going to be sick. There’s a pain in his gut like someone has taken a knife to a vital organ and won’t stop slowly twisting it.

6 months, twist. 3 days, twist. 2 hours, twist.

And no fucking Ian.

He knew he’d been kidding himself when he asked Ian to visit him, but this is just cruel. There was a part of him during the first few months that he’d hoped he’d be wrong, that little flicker of hope that perhaps Ian would come to his senses. Maybe his meds would level out, the mania controlled and he’d be on the next bus over to visit. But he hasn’t heard from him, not even a call. It’s humiliating to think about the amount of time Mickey just spent waiting, like a fucking dog for his owner or a 1950s housewife. He’s not a fucking housewife. He’s seen more of his estranged wife and his kid - if it even is his kid - than he has Ian. Mandy hasn’t even been by more than once to check in on him, he hasn’t heard from anyone else either. Not Fiona, not Debbie and sure as hell not Lip, but fuck, who can blame him for being disappointed? He’d clearly managed to kid himself into a false sense of…something, at least. Family? Friends? Fuck knows what, but he’s never doing it again. Love and it’s bullshit.

Lying there on his shitty prison mattress, all he can think of is Ian’s face behind that glass, reserved and disconnected, having to be paid to even come and see him. As if Mickey hadn’t dropped absolutely everything certain in his life to be by his side, to be with him, to be allowed to love him. And the worst fucking thing? He’d do it again, a thousand times over. He knows that if Ian turned up today, smiling and flirting like he always used to, all of that would be water under the bridge. He had always been told that love makes you crazy, but no one ever told Mickey that it makes you fucking stupid too.

Fuck, he misses him. He loves him and he always will with every single fibre of his being, every bone and every atom.

I love you. The hell does that even mean?

Twist, twist, twist.

mexico

He’s been working closely with a few guys the last couple of weeks, dealing and selling, working the streets here and there. Mickey tries not to stay in one place for too long, doesn’t make friends, doesn’t own much shit. It works for him. He’s safe here, but only if he keeps it that way.

‘You ready?’ Emiliano asks from the front seat, a lit cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. Jose is passed out in the passenger seat, feet up high on the dashboard and lightly snoring.

‘Yeah’ Mickey grunts in reply, adjusting the sunglasses on his face, carefully minding the bruising under his left eye. He’d managed to get into a shit faced drunk bar fight last night and gained himself a punch to the face and a kick in the groin before he was pulled off the guy. This American guy a table over had been shit talking for hours, Mickey doesn’t even remember (or give a fuck) what it was mostly about. He does remember, however, him spitting out ‘fags’ at these two other guys who’d been standing innocently next to each other at the bar. Mickey didn’t even know if they were together, or if they had just happened to be standing there at the same moment. That was what sealed the deal for Mickey, leaping over the table and going straight for the fucker’s nose.

He reaches into his pockets for a cigarette and lights it as it balances between his lips. They’re driving further South to another city where their boss has some connections he wants to solidify, apparently they’ve not done business in a while so he’s sending Mickey down there to start off some talks. It makes Mickey feel like an important part of the operation, as if he was needed, but, he also knows it’s because if he ended up dead in a basement with a bullet in his skull, they wouldn’t feel like they lost one of their own. He gets it, whatever.

‘You miss America?’

His stomach jolts and the car suddenly feels too hot. The sun is powerful, it burns directly through the window and onto Mickey’s skin.

‘What stupid fucking question is that?’

Does he miss America? Does he miss being on the run? Prison? Having absolutely no one?

Well, not no one.

‘Your home, do you miss it?’ Emiliano catches Mickey’s eyes in the mirror, and even though he’s wearing sunglasses Mickey shifts his gaze uncomfortably to the moving road out of the window. Fuck feeling like he’s under a microscope.

‘No I don’t fucking miss America, ain’t got no home there’ He mutters, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out into the air.

‘You ain’t got a girl there?’

Mickey barks out an exasperated laugh which leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

‘No girl’ He spits bitterly, hoping Emiliano gets bored of this game of 21 questions he seems to be playing and move the fuck on.

‘No girl, dawg? So coming here was pretty easy for you then, yeah? You wanted that Mexican sunshine!’

He snorts. Easy isn’t exactly how Mickey would put it. Ripping your heart out of your chest with your bare hands and stomping on it a few hundred times before feeding it to a pack of wild dogs is probably how Mickey would put it.

There is nothing easy about thinking you’d finally fucking make it across the finish line and having it taken away from you almost instantly. There is nothing easy about the man you have loved since you were a kid telling you that he loves you but he can’t come with you. There is nothing easy about kissing him desperately at the border, begging with every touch that he’d change his mind but he doesn’t. Driving across the border alone, leaving the only person you’ve ever actually loved behind isn’t fucking easy.

Loving Ian Gallagher is easy, though. Once he let himself given in, once he finally faced those feelings head on and gave himself permission, it was easy. Deep down, it’s always been easy. It was the rest of the shit in their lives that wasn’t. Mexico was supposed to be their paradise, their freedom together but instead Mickey is here, alone. Forever.

He doesn’t know when he’ll see Ian again, but fuck, he knows that he loves him.

prison (again)

Mickey keeps his eyes on Ian until he sees him disappear around the corner and out of sight. Out into the world a free man, back to Chicago and his fucked up family. That’s where he belongs, that’s where he’s always belonged. Not in here, not locked up like an animal surrounded by criminals. Mickey’s heart pounds, it feels like it’s threatening to pump itself right out of his chest and spill directly out onto the floor. He knows he’ll be getting his new roommate assignment soon, some new guy will be sleeping in Ian’s bed, ruining the little world they created for themselves here. He knows missing their prison life is ridiculous, because who the fuck has a good time in prison? But it was the first time in their sorry lives that they could just be together. No homophobic dads, no out of control mental illnesses, no need to run to run away - if they could run away.

Mickey knew rolling on the cartel for Ian was a big decision, he knew that Ian’s crime was a lesser one that his and there was a possibility for him to get out earlier than him. He knew it deep down all along, except he really thought that perhaps the universe would be kind to him, just this once, and let them have longer together. Apparently not. Everyone else is allowed to be with the people they love but not Mickey Milkovich, not at all. It feels all they fucking do is say goodbye to one another.

His hands start to shake, and fuck, he misses him already. It’s ridiculous, they’ve gone months and months without contact, they’ve been in different countries and states without hearing a word from one another and yet this is hurting his chest like no other goodbye before. Was it the false sense of safety they’d created for themselves? Was it kidding themselves that they finally had this, after all their literal years of waiting.

Mickey hangs onto their goodbye from a few moments before, or had it already been hours? He doesn’t know, he’s not taken his eyes off the last spot he saw Ian before he left, left Mickey, left them behind.

Shut the fuck up, he begs himself, this time is going to be different. He knows that, he knows that they are still them, even if Ian is out there and Mickey is in here. Ian isn’t about to go find some other guy to shack up with whilst Mickey does his time, he knows that. Or at least he thinks he does. He hopes he does. Still, he can’t help but be reminded of every other time he’s been lulled into a false sense of hope by Ian Gallagher. Mickey loves him regardless but boy, does he have a talent for breaking Mickey’s heart.

This time will be different, he repeats, finally pulling himself away from the glass window. He turns reluctantly to look at their beds, Ian’s one looking hauntingly empty whilst it awaits its new owner. The thought of climbing into his empty bed tonight without Ian on top of him is depressing, and though they rarely actually slept alone, it was nice to always know he wasn’t far away. He’d been far away for too long.

Last night they lay tangled in Ian’s sheets, sweaty and spent but momentarily content in each other’s arms. The moment passed and the next morning’s event dawned on them both quite quickly. Mickey failed to hold back the threatening tears as he whispered his love against Ian’s neck in the dark.

‘I love you, I never want to be apart from you’

‘I know Mick, I know. I love you too’ Ian tightened his grip around Mickey as he kissed the top of his head, bringing him in as close as he could. ‘It won’t be long’.

Mickey sighs and climbs up onto Ian’s empty bed, fuck it, if Ian isn’t the one sleeping here then definitely no stranger will be. He hates top bunks but he knows he’ll lose his mind if he stays down below. He’s only ever been on the bottom for Ian, so why change that now?

He sniggers quietly at his own stupid joke, before rolling over solomly to face away from the door. His chest hurts, his heart hurts, his fucking everything hurts. He closes his eyes and imagines Ian is still next to him, like he used to when he was here the first time or when he was down in Mexico. He’s used to loving Ian from afar.

It won’t be long.

+ the honeymoon

Fucking Terry.

They really should’ve let Mickey murder that fucker when he wanted to because he’s getting real tired of his relentless shit. They’re covered in feathers, lying naked on the floor of their honeymoon suite, hearts racing from almost being shot rather than the sex they were about to have.

‘Your fucking Dad’ Ian laughs at the ridiculousness of it all, rolling over to give Mickey a hand getting up.

‘Ay, you should’ve let me shoot him like I wanted, at least we would’ve been able to bang on our honeymoon in peace’ Mickey snips back, attempting and failing to shake off as many of the feathers as he can.

‘We’ve definitely had the chance to bang in peace’

‘Then why aren’t we banging right now?’

‘Fair point’ Ian grabs Mickey by the hips and pulls him closer, man handling him in the way he knows his husband likes it. Ian cups the back of his head and brings Mickey’s lips to his, softly then with more pressure. They kiss slowly before Mickey pulls back, clearly still distracted by his father being a homicidal maniac.

‘Fuck, I want him dead.’ Mickey searches Ian’s eyes in hopes of meeting him halfway and knowing that this is the only way that they will be able to be together like they’ve always wanted. Christ, they’re fucking married for fucksake and it’s still not enough for the universe to let them be.

‘I know you do, Mick. If there’s any fucker that deserves to be murdered it’s him but-’

‘But what?’ Mickey snaps,

‘We’re married, you’re my husband and I can’t let you be thrown in prison when I just got you back’ Ian says, brushing his fingers softly through Mickey’s hair to get the remaining few feathers out. ‘We’ve been apart for so fucking long, so let’s just have this. Now. We’ll figure out a way to deal with Terry, I promise we will.’

Mickey softens, his heart stuttering in his chest as the urgency to carry out Terry’s immediate death ebbs away. He takes a deep breath and rests his forehead against Ian’s, pulling him in.

‘I love you.’ He whispers, and fuck he will never get used to the freedom he feels every single time he gets to say that to him without fear. Fear for his life, fear he wouldn’t hear it back, fear he would never get the chance to hear it back.

‘I’ve loved you since I was 15 years old, Mickey Milkovich, your father isn’t going to change that’ Ian softly replies, pressing a kiss lightly to Mickey’s lips.

‘Ay, that’s Gallagher to you’ Mickey mumbles, pulling back. They haven’t had that particular conversation about the name thing yet so it’s mainly supposed to come off as a joke.

‘Mickey Gallagher’ Ian laughs, testing the feeling of the new name out in his mouth. ‘I think I like the sound of that’

‘Ian Milkovich?’ Mickey suggests, giving Ian a knowing look, ‘Dad would love that’.

Both boys laugh softly, they know that Terry would probably burn down the entire South Side if that ever happened. Perhaps that’s all the more reason to do the name change, in hopes that it gives the old bastard a heart attack or some shit. Mickey could only dream.

‘Come’ Ian says, grabbing Mickey by the arm and leading him back to the bed in the centre of the room. It’s covered in all sorts of crap from the bullets but with a quick swipe Ian manages to send most of it to the floor. He flops straight down on the bed and pulls Mickey down on top of him.

This is it. This is what Mickey has been craving for years, the chance to lie in Ian’s arms without a timer on his back or anything else looming horribly over them. He knows they’ll have to deal with Terry soon, because Milkovichs don’t give up, but right now, he’s allowed to have this. He doesn’t know what his new name will be or whether or not they’re gonna move back into the Gallagher house or if Terry’s going to drive by in 2 minutes with another round of ammo. What he does know, and he knows this for a fact, is he is never fucking letting go of the man beside him. It’s also nice to know that Ian isn’t planning on letting him go any time soon either, which sadly shouldn’t come as much as a relief as it does. It’s hard to not think about everything as temporary when it’s felt like most of his life has been stuck on pause.

Mickey shuffles around slightly so he can lie comfortably on Ian’s chest, his hand resting softly on his rib cage. He can feel Ian breathing in and out, rhythmically up and down. He’s safe. They’re safe. They’re together. They can just be.

‘What’re you thinking so hard about?’ Ian asks, his hand coming up to rest gently on the top of Mickey’s, their rings aligning perfectly.

‘You’ Mickey replies, ‘Always you’.

#shameless #shameless us #shameless fic #gallavich fic #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 3 years

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Purchase Five (5) Kitchen Towels for a 33.3% discount ~ Mix or Match

PLEASE READ PRIOR TO ORDERING: You must purchase five (5) kitchen towels to receive this Bargain. This Bargain is ONLY for the kitchen towels selected by Granny & Grandpa. The kitchen towels are in the picture. Should your order not have FIVE of the kitchen towels that are only for this Bargain, your credit card will be credited back and your purchase will be canceled. This is a 33.3% discount of original price!!!

This Bargain is offering you thirty five different kitchen towels designs to pick five for the special price of $4.00 per towel (friendly reminder, you must purchase 5 of these awesome thirty three kitchen towels). Your total purchase will be $20.00 plus shipping and tax. A GREAT savings!

Once we are sold out on the Kitchen Towel design, it will not be available. This is a limited time Bargain. The color of the designs do vary!

Your Choices Are:

Easily Amoose’d ~ They Call Me A Nurse Because Apparently Badass Isn’t a Job Title ~ It’s Mom’s turn to Wine ~ Faith Hope Love ~ Queen of the Coop ~ Caution Chicken With Attitude ~ Screw It! ~ Three Sunflowers “You Are My Sunshine” ~ When In Doubt Add More Wine ~ Danger Old Fart ~ My Greatest Blessings Call Me Granny ~ I Don’t Give A Sip ~ Farm Sweet Farm ~ Beer O’clock ~ Excuse the Mess I’m A Shitty Housewife ~ At The Lake We Do Beer Thirty & Wine O’clock ~ This Home Runs On Love, Laughter and LOTS of Mountain Dew ~ Kitchen Closed MOOOO On ~ You Are My Sunshine When Skies Are Grey ~ Life Is Better At The Lake ~ What Happens At Grandma’s Stays At Grandma’s ~ I Wet My Plants ~ An Old Bear Lives Here With His Honey ~ Making S’more Memories ~ Spread Kindness Not Germs ~ Dysfunctional Family Survivor ~ Yellowstone Dutton Ranch ~ Wash Your Hands and Say Your Prayers Because Jesus and Germs Are Everywhere ~ Class of 2021 ~ Wine (corkscrew) ~ Bud Light ~ Be Happy with half of Sunflower ~ To Teach is to Teach a Life Forever Thank you ~ Teachers Make a Difference

You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations.

Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use.

The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

PLEASE READ PRIOR TO ORDERING: You must purchase ten (10) kitchen towels to receive this Bargain. This Bargain is ONLY for the kitchen towels selected by Granny & Grandpa. The kitchen towels are in the picture. Should your order not have ten of the kitchen towels that are only for this Bargain, your credit card will be credited back and your purchase will be canceled.

This Bargain is offering you thirty five different kitchen towels to pick ten for the special price of $4.00 per towel (friendly reminder, you must purchase 10 of these awesome thirty three kitchen towels). Your total purchase will be $40.00 plus shipping and tax. A GREAT savings!

Once we are sold out on a certain design or this Bargain, it will not be available, there is a limit on this Bargain.

Your Choices Are:

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent.

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svghubs · 3 years

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Excuse the mess svg, Excuse the mess I'm a shitty housewife SVG

Excuse the mess svg, Excuse the mess I’m a shitty housewife SVG

This is a downloadable file. You will instantly receive a zipped file containing the following file formats: SVG, PNG, EPS, PNG, PSD, PDF, DXF and AI. You can opt to download any free SVG under our Free SVG category to feel reassured of our files’ quality. Product Tags# Excuse the mess svg, Excuse the mess I’m a shitty housewife SVG, kitchen towel svg, kitchen svg, messy house svg, house décor…

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bloodandcream · 6 years

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for @traveling-riverside-dean, DeanxCasxBenny+pipe , ~900 words

He’s dirty, faded blue shirt riding up his stomach as he wiggles himself underneath the sink. On his back, one knee folded up and one spread wide, he lays awkwardly half under the kitchen sink as he grunts and works the pea-trap loose.

Dean knows how to fix this. Hell, he could fix a clogged kitchen sink in his sleep. He watches, from across the kitchen.

Benny leans against him, one arm crossing Dean’s back, hand settled on his hip.

“How long’s he been the maintenance guy here?” Benny whispers, lips brushing Dean’s ear.

“Long as I’ve been here, called in for a light fixture once, more than I could do alone, you know, almost face planted into his crotch while he was on that fucking, rickety stupid ladder.”

Benny nods, nosing under Dean’s ear, the two of them watching the maintenance guy like fucking creeps.

Their landlord doesn’t charge for simple repairs like this, so, it’s not like it’s costing Dean anything.

The guy’s stomach bunches with little rolls as he curls, pushes out from under the sink, hands holding carefully as he twists, pulls the dirty bucket under the pea-trap and loosens the pipes enough to come apart. His dark hair is messy, pants riding down just enough for a hint of the classic plumbers crack, and both Dean and Benny tilt their heads appreciatively as they watch the sinuous twist of his body.

Cas-something-or-another, that’s his name, Dean never remembers all of it. He usually takes care of repairs himself, but the place is a shit hole and he’s needed an extra hand here and there. He’d thought about hitting on Cas a few times, but it’s a pretty shitty thing to hit on someone who’s just doing their job.

Right now, Dean couldn’t resist because he legitimately had a problem around the apartment - one he could fix, but, whatever - and he was kind of…. curious to test the waters with Benny.

With a disgusted grunt, Cas knocks the pipe-elbow against his bucket.

“This is full of vegetable peelings. This sink isn’t equipped with a disposal, you can’t just shove trash down here.”

Dean turns against Benny and crooks an eyebrow. “So that’s what’s in the trap?”

He actually hadn’t known what was clogging his sink up.

Benny looks between the two of them, looks to his feet and scuffs them against the black and white checkered floor. “Sorry, cher.”

“Throw your trash in the trash, please.” Cas says curtly, scraping a screw driver down the section of pipe to clear it out.

“Will do, chief,” Benny nods.

Dean looks at him. Benny leans in and murmurs, “You been talking my head off ‘bout him.”

“No I haven’t,” Dean hisses back.

Benny shrugs, leans against the fridge next to him, and there’s a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Fucking asshole.

Maybe Dean’s talked about the hot maintenance guy a few times. Maybe Dean’s asked for some construction-guy-on-housewife (uh, househusband) roleplay. Maybe Dean’s been dropping hints that he’s not that good at the monogamy schtick.

But what the fuck Benny. Sabotaging the goddam pipes with vegetable peelings.

Cas gets the pea-trap cleared, swivels around on his ass and lays back down until he’s halfway under the sink, flat of his tanned belly and that dark treasure trail just peeking out between the hem of his shirt and those tight fitting jeans.

Dean startles when Benny slaps him on the ass. He can feel his cheeks heating, his dick honest to god chubbing up in his jeans and christ, it’s just a dude on his back cleaning out some grubby pipes.

Finishing with the repairs, Cas grunts as he scoots out from under the sink, uses a dirty towel to wipe his hands off. There’s sweat beading on his forehead and he holds a hand against the small of his back as he stands up stiffly, gathering his things.

“You want somethin’ to drink, darlin’?” Benny offers.

Cas looks at Benny, and Dean’s finds it difficult, the few times he’s met Cas at staring him head-on, but Benny stands with his relaxed-but-cocky slouch, and smiles easy.

Blue eyes darting between the two of them, Cas squints, and nods. “Please.”

You’d think for as much casual sex as Dean’s had, he’d be better at this. But girls, dark bars, one-on-one night stands, those are more to his strengths. Benny, well, Dean had been way out of his depth -though he’d never admit it to anyone - when Benny found him at a leather bar. Dean probably doesn’t know as much about Benny as he thinks he does.

Honestly, it’s pretty exciting finding out.

Benny’s got a pitcher of sweet iced tea in the fridge, and he dolls up a glass with ice cubes and a fucking mint sprig from the herbs he put little pots of on Dean’s window sill. Always complaining that Dean expects him to cook there without proper ingredients. Dean’d put anything in his windowsill that Benny wants, if it means the kind of bolognese sauce Benny can whip up, or, apparently, the sly easy way he can pick up a third.

Cas sips his tea, leans against the sink, turns the tap on and off like he’s testing it.

The water goes down without collecting lazy in the sink.

Benny folds his arms across his broad chest, smiles at Dean across the room like he’s saying, ‘your move’, and Dean.

Smooth operator that he is, Dean asks Cas, “You want to have a threesome?”

#deanxcasxbenny #traveling-riverside-dean #idk why it wont let me @ you #but eh #alternate universe #ok but what about Cas as some reluctantly grimy plumber #im here for it

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visionofwriters-deactivated · 6 years

Text

Dark Windows - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is the first chapter of Dark Windows. I already published these chapters on Wattpad, and it’s why I am posting the two chapters at once. Thank you for reading!

"In, in I tell you!" Dolly waved her right hand outside, her left hand located safely on the doorknob, ready to close the door if needed. "Now!"

The women rushed to the door, their heels making clicking sounds on the porch steps of the house. As they ran inside, Margaret glanced over them to make sure everyone was there, then closed the door. She and Dolly grabbed two pieces of wood they had left aside and put them in the nails on the side of the door they had prepared beforehand.

"We almost did it!" Eleanore yelled, pushing Dolly as soon as they finished. Dolly, the strongest of the lot, looked at her as if she had just poked her.

"There were about a dozen of them out there. You almost got killed, that's what you did." She said, in a low grumble.

"Still, we could've-!"

"If you're gonna scream, I think it's best if you go to the kitchen. Yelling will only attract them." Margaret waved her hand dismissively.

"I'm gonna go upstairs guys. Wash up the blood, you know?" Judy smiled, trying to lighten the mood before she went to the bathroom. Dolly and Eleanore nodded and shuffled upstairs as well, leaving the oldest and youngest housewives alone in the foyer.

"Well, I guess I'll start dinner." Beth sighed.

The record-player was murmuring soft rock music. Bonnie sighed, hearing it as she stepped into the room. She had forgotten to turn it off before she showered. Surely, Margaret had already heard it, and Bonnie was bound to a scolding on wasting electricity.

Honestly, who cared?

In the middle of a male-zombie apocalypse, was there really a need for recycling and saving and all that crap?

Not to mention, listening to rock music was fun. Not to say living with her stepmom, four housewives and a teen guy wasn't fun... but it wasn't.

Bonnie sighed again and pulled the towel from her hair, putting it on the chair next to the drawer. She would be scolded about that too, and she knew it.

She flinched as she heard a door slam and her roommates scream. It seemed they had returned from their killings. Bonnie looked out the window and, sure enough, in the front yard were scattered a few skulls and dead-un-dead bodies. Most importantly, a large gathering of zombies walking around stupidly. Bonnie grabbed a small rock from the flower pot on the windowsill, opened the window and threw it towards one of the wandering monsters.

She didn't get to see the result of her attack though, for in walked one of her roommates, fuming.

"I can't believe she did that!" Eleanore yelled, stomping in. "I cannot believe she fucking did that!"

"What happened?" Bonnie said, sitting down on her mattress, the closest one to the window.

"God- Dolly! She fucking pulled us in, making us think there was a fire or some shit, when we were in the middle of a killing spree!" Eleanore ranted, taking off her shoes and putting her hammer on top of the dresser. "And she was just so- God, can you turn off that fucking music?"

Bonnie leaned sideways and lifted the tonearm from the record player. Eleanore grabbed her own towels though, and was heading to the only shower of the house. Bonnie figured another fight would come up, as she had heard the unmistakable lock of the shower door click a few minutes before.

"What's for dinner?" Raymond asked, leaning softly on the column. Beth, the sweetest of the six women, was looking over a pot on the gas stove. She looked up and smiled warmly at him.

"Turkey and tomato soup." Of course, both canned.

"Can I help?" Beth gripped the side of the pot firmly, surprised. She quickly hid it and smiled back at him again.

"There's no need, I've almost finished." Ray nodded and walked out. He knew that was a lie since the tomato soup wasn't even boiling yet. He wasn't really fond of cooking, but he just felt so bad for never helping out around the house. He wasn't allowed to cook, clean, nor go outside and fight the plague. He felt like a random freeloader the others had to take care of, not to mention he had his own room while his six roommates had to share.

Ray sighed and crossed the path to the living room, the only place in the house with a bookcase. There was also a tv there, but since the plague, it had been positively useless. He reached for the left side of it, where he had organized all the books that looked interesting. Whoever had lived there before them apparently didn't think any books except encyclopedias and self-care ones were interesting. He grabbed one he had brought himself and went up the stairs. Ray would read on the top floor, but all the windows were boarded up and there was no electricity to light up the rooms.

He avoided all the traps scattered around the stairs and stepped into the hallway of the top floor. When he stepped onto a creaky floorboard, the door on the left opened. Bonnie, the only one out of the six women his age, peaked from inside.

"Do you know what's for dinner?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Turkey and tomato soup." Bonnie groaned and closed the door with a slam. Ray flinched a little bit but continued walking towards his room, the last one. It was the smallest one, which made sense since only one person was living there.

Ray threw the book on his mattress and put his jacket on top of the dresser on the side of the door, which he closed behind him. He threw himself at his "bed" and cringed as the floor creaked under him. He threw his shoes off in the process and grabbed his book, holding it above his head to read.

Hopefully, he wouldn't finish it before dinner.

AHHHHHHHHH! I am so excited! The first thousand words of my book! I didn't edit this because I was so excited to publish it oops

Kinda worried I already bore Y'all with all my descriptions, because there is going to be a lot more lmao. Writing room descriptions is definitely the only flaw in my writing :))

I think I'm in love with Bonnie btw. She kinda reminds me of a Greaser or a rebel without a cause. I'm still kinda experimenting with the character relationships and interactions though.

I also love the idea of small alliances, like how in big families you have favorite cousins and siblings you escape to in family meetings. Like, Eleanore and Bonnie both have like this hot-headed, sassy and kinda shitty personality so they would team up for the most part. And Judy and Margaret are the ones that have the most housewife/mother experience so that would be another alliance.

Anyways, I really hope you guys enjoyed this!

#Originals #visionofwriters #dark windows #dw #I used to be so into this idea and now im not motived #welpp #1950 #zombies

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 3 years

Text

Purchase Ten (10) Kitchen Towels Mix or Match

Once we are sold out on a certain design or this Bargain, it will not be available, there is a limit on this Bargain.

Your Choices Are:

You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations.

The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Once we are sold out on a certain design or this Bargain, it will not be available, there is a limit on this Bargain.

Your Choices Are:

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent.

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 3 years

Text

Purchase Ten (10) Kitchen Towels Mix or Match

Once we are sold out on a certain design or this Bargain, it will not be available, there is a limit on this Bargain.

Your Choices Are:

Easily Amoose’d ~ They Call Me A Nurse Because Apparently Badass Isn’t a Job Title ~ It’s Mom’s turn to Wine ~ Faith Hope Love ~ Queen of the Coop ~ Caution Chicken With Attitude ~ Screw It! ~ Three Sunflowers “You Are My Sunshine” ~ When In Doubt Add More Wine ~ Danger Old Fart ~ Grumpy Old Man Club Founding Member Only Happy When Complaining ~ I Don’t Give A Sip ~ Farm Sweet Farm ~ Beer O’clock ~ Excuse the Mess I’m A Shitty Housewife ~ At The Lake We Do Beer Thirty & Wine O’clock ~ This Home Runs On Love, Laughter and LOTS of Mountain Dew ~ Kitchen Closed MOOOO On ~ You Are My Sunshine When Skies Are Grey ~ Hankin N’ Drankin ~ Life Is Better At The Lake ~ I Don’t Need Google My Husband Knows Everything ~ What Happens At Grandma’s Stays At Grandma’s ~ I Wet My Plants ~ An Old Bear Lives Here With His Honey ~ Making S’more Memories ~ Spread Kindness Not Germs ~ Dysfunctional Family Survivor ~ Yellowstone Dutton Ranch ~ Wash Your Hands and Say Your Prayers Because Jesus and Germs Are Everywhere ~ Class of 2021 ~ Wine (corkscrew)

You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations.

The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 3 years

Text

Excuse The Mess I'm A Shitty Housewife Kitchen Towel

Excuse The Mess I’m A Shitty Housewife white kitchen towel. Granny & Grandpa’s Custom Creations also offers a Monthly Kitchen Towel Subscription Box…..check out our Kitchen Towel Subscription Box.

We are all a little bit of a mess in our own way, especially in the kitchen, which is why you can never have too many kitchen towels! Granny & Grandpa’s Custom Creation kitchen towels are attractive, affordable, update your kitchen décor with Granny & Grandpa’s kitchen towels and they make GREAT gifts! Our kitchen towels only come in white, but our designs are in many different colors.

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent. These are flat woven towels; they are perfect for cooking or baking and can safely be used around food such as covering dough for rising or as a food strainer. You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations. Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use. The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

If your desired writing color is not shown, please reach out to us at [email protected], as we would like to be able to accommodate your desired writing color to the design. Our Kitchen Towels are only available in white. Writing colors do vary.

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

#grannygrandpascustomcreations

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

#grannygrandpascustomcreations

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