#I really like drawing Gallagher he’s fun

[psychopomparia]

Oh triple faced soul, please forgive me for what I’m about to share.

It came to me in a dream

[moeblob]

So does he, Gallagher.

[to-thelakes]

fuckin' calculus (lip gallagher x reader)

content warning(s); brief reference to weird teacher-student relationships (SUPER BRIEF), typical shameless themes (smoking, gratuitous swearing), that's it! (this is just 1.7k words of gratuitous fluff/comfort for lip)

summary; monica coming back really fucked lip up but he only lets himself cry when he's alone with you in your bedroom.

series masterlist

in celebration of my beloved jeremy allen white's win, here is a lil lip gallagher one-shot

You knew something was wrong from when he stepped into the hallway. Lip had this sober look on his face and it was the tell-tale sign he was hiding something. His mom had come back so that had to be part of it but you didn’t say anything. 

Instead, you walked with him to his locker where he grabbed the shit he needed for class. It was quiet for a moment, you stood beside him while he stuck his head in his locker, rummaging through the crap that had piled up. You were watching him, talking about something aimless.

“You know I really think Miss Davis wants to fuck Eddy. I mean, I don’t get it and I mean, come on, he’s like 15 and she’s fucking 40 but fuck, not the weirdest shit that’s happened. You know-” Your rambling was cut off by Lip’s hand slamming into the side of his locker. 

The noise reverberated around the hallways, eyes drawing your way and you went silent. Lip had always been so calm and collected around you. It scared you - only briefly -, your eyes widened as you took in his frustrated expression.

His eyes were lined with tears, mouth set into a frown, his fingers curled up into a tight fist.

“Fucking’ Calculus,” He ground out under his breathe. You frowned but it was like you weren’t even there. 

“Use mine. I’ve not got Calc today,” You responded with a tentative smile. For a minute, you were convinced he had forgotten you were even there.

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?” He was quick to apologise. Though he only ever apologised when it wasn’t necessary, when it didn’t mean anything. Otherwise, he found it hard to spit the words out. 

“Nothing important,” You said as you pulled your backpack over to your front, pulling out your Calc textbook. You had only brought it in because you had it 4th period but he didn’t need to know that. 

“You sure it’s okay?” He asked, taking the textbook tentatively from your grip. You nodded.

“Course,” You reassured him. You then leant forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling softly. You glanced at the clock, it was getting dangerously close to class time. You knew that you could get to class with enough time even after the bell rang for first period but you loved to be early. Lip knew that, “Gotta run to World History but got a free house until late if you wanna come over,” You asked. Lip nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds fun.” He sounded distant and you weren’t entirely sure he was listening but you let it go. You squeezed his bicep with your free hand and then disappeared down the hallway to class. ***

The walk back to yours had been quiet. Lip hadn’t said much all day. From the moment you got out of school to the moment you reached your front door, it was like he was somewhere else. It was a classic Lip Gallagher shutdown. It had happened a few weeks ago when Frank had tried to go sober. You couldn’t blame him.

“Bedroom?” You asked softly as you both kicked off your shoes and he stubbed a cigarette out on the porch, “Or I can heat us up some leftovers?” You added. Lip shrugged and you knew what that meant. So, you walked over to the thermostat and cranked it up a little before shedding your layers. Braving the Chicago cold was not for the weak.

Lip shed his coat and scarf, placing them on the hook before you grabbed his hand and coaxed him upstairs.

“Need to piss,” He muttered. You nodded and let him go before heading into your room. You picked up a few pyjamas and clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Your room wasn’t a mess but you couldn’t help but want everything to be neater for Lip. He lived in such chaos, you didn’t want to feed into it even if you were used to that same chaos too. You wanted to be his oasis.

You fished one of his hoodies you’d stolen from the closet and draped it over the back of your desk chair before you stripped off and changed into shorts and an oversized shirt. 

“Left a hoodie out for you, gonna lie in bed,” You called into the hallway just loud enough that he could hear in the bathroom. You didn’t get a response but you knew he heard you. You were quick to go back to room and crank the radiator on before sliding under the covers. The best thing about an empty house was the peace and quiet.

All you could hear was the muffled sounds of Lip washing his hands, wiping them and then coming out of the bathroom. 

His figure appeared in the doorway and he looked somehow more downtrodden than he had all day. He didn’t say anything as he changed into just boxer shorts and the hoodie. He rifled through his bag for a moment before pulling out the calculus textbook you lent him and placed it on the desk.

“You had Calculus 4th period,” He stated. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Huh?”

“You needed the textbook.”

“Oh, yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. Just looked over Maggie’s shoulder. She gets it better than I do,” You waved off his words with a small smile. He frowned and you tilted your head, “Come ‘ere,” You requested. Your voice was soft and quiet. He didn’t need to be asked again and when you pulled the edge of the covers up, he crawled into bed.

But rather than lying beside you, he lay on top of you. His head rested on your chest, your tits acting as a cushion. Your fingers slipped up into his hair while the other wrapped the duvet around the both of you.

“Why’d do you lie about Calculus?” He asked, voice muffled into your skin. You gently scritched his scalp.

“People do dumb things for the people they like,” You admitted softly. He buried his face further into your chest. You tilted your head forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Can’t help myself when it comes to you. You make me silly.” He rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side. His cheek resting against you. One of his hands moved and began to draw patterns across arms. 

“Don’t get why she can just walk in and pretend none of it fucking mattered,” He said after a moment, “It’s bullshit. She fucks off and leaves us with dad and comes back and expects us to accept her with open arms. She didn’t fucking raise me. She didn’t care. Never sent me a fucking birthday card. None of that shit. Now, she’s trying to take fucking Liam? Who the fuck does that? Some fucking bullshit,” He ranted. It was less angry and more sad. You had known Lip since before Monica fucked off which meant that you knew the anger about her leaving had long turned into quiet contemplation and exhaustion. You knew that the constant questions plagued him and you knew that even though he had managed to let you in, he lived in fear that you’d fuck off too.

Not that you ever would.

It would take the strength of the Gods to separate you from Lip. You didn’t care what anyone said to you. 

“Want me to tell her to go fuck herself?” You asked, half-joking. He let out an amused huff before he shook his head.

“Nah, no point. She’ll do that herself,” He muttered. His eyes had gotten glassy and you continued to slowly run your fingers through his hair. He hated crying. Lip hated crying but he found it harder not to when he was with you.

“I got you, baby,” You whispered softly when you heard the first telltale sniffle of tears. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling into you. It was a subconscious attempt to hide himself away but you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings as the tears continued to fall.

Lip didn’t say anything, there was nothing else he felt like he could say. So, instead, he cried in your arms as you gently shushed him and promised him that you’re right there with him and urged him to let it out. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed curled up together but by the end of it, Lip had fallen asleep against your chest. His breathing had evened out and the lull of your heartbeat had pulled him into the dream world.

And he stayed like that for hours. You didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to read and so you balanced your book and stayed with him.

At some point your parents came home and when they passed your bedroom door, they simply smiled.

“Everything okay?” Your dad had mouthed to you. You had simply nodded.

“Gallagher shit,” was all you had mouth back. He nodded and gave you a thumbs up. He mimed dinner and you nodded. Then he pointed at Lip and you nodded again. If you were gonna wake Lip up it would be with good food.

“Thank you,” You mouthed and your dad simply nodded and headed downstairs to talk with your mum. It was peaceful and you were glad Lip trusted you enough to allow himself to feel at least a semblance of that peace too.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead while he continued to sleep.

“I love you,” You whispered to him. You’d never dare say it when he was awake but you could tell him now. You were brave enough to say it now while he was completely unaware and content.

[remusluvr]

sweet escape | lip gallagher

summary: Neither you nor Lip can focus on anything else except each other. content: jealously, established relationship, f oral (insinuated m oral), unedited

He can't but watch you as you talk with your friends. You're wearing the dress he had hoped you'd wear. Every time he sees you in it, there's just no way his focus can be on anything else.

"If you're gonna keep eye-fucking your girlfriend, Lip, then I'm gonna go find Trevor," Ian says, eyes rolling simultaneously and it snaps Lip back into his actual being.

"Sorry, man. What were you saying?" he stammered, hand rubbing at the back of his head. Ian just walks off and leaves him standing there. He isn't completely opposed to it. Now he can focus all his attention on you without interruptions.

And he does just that. He finds a good spot on a couch near you, close enough for you to notice him without being close enough to draw you over just yet. You look over and smile at him, he nods at you, legs spreading out on the couch. The action makes your mouth dry and you quickly look away, suddenly flustered.

He laughs to himself as he watches you regain your train of thought and rejoin the conversation. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as you look over at him again. Your bottom lip is immediately drawn into your mouth and it takes everything in himself to not go over to you right now. He's having fun making you really want him.

He slightly waves at you, barely lifting his hand and his nonchalance is making you want him more than ever. You see the girl before he does. A pretty blonde girl in a tight dress stopping to stand right in his line of sight, blocking him from your view and you from his view.

"Hi! I'm Caroline," she introduces herself, her hand moving out to shake his. He does and gives her a tight-lipped smile.

"Uh, Lip," he greets. She beams, giggling slightly.

"That's a different name, I like it," she smiles, taking the empty spot beside him. Her thighs touch his and Lip isn't sure how your burning stare doesn't set her on fire. He gets an idea, a way to really make you come over to him.

He doesn't stop the way Caroline starts sliding her foot up his shin and it makes you furious. He's your Lip and he's not doing to show this random girl that he's yours. You decide to play just as dirty, excusing yourself from your friends and finding a lonesome guy even closer to where Lip is sitting.

You flutter your lashes and poke out your chest a little more than usual. Lip wants to kill the guy that has a perfect view down your top. He cracks when he watches you lean in to whisper something in his ear and the random boy's hands move to your waist.

He's stomping over, hand stretching over your back to guide you out of this house party. You don't speak as you walk to the car.

The tension is thick as both of your car doors shut loudly. He doesn't move to start the car, idly sitting there staring out the windshield as you look over at him. You want to apologize, and as soon as you open your mouth he's throwing himself at you, lips pressing onto yours.

You moan into his mouth, hands grasping at his hair. He sighs into yours, hands feeling over any inch of your body he can get.

"Never do that again," he grumbles.

"Wouldn't have done it if you weren't letting that girl flirt with you," you huff back, pulling away from him. He knows he shouldn't have but he loved seeing you riled up. It was just unfortunate that you got him back this time.

"Never again," he agrees, starting the car. His hand reaches out, landing on your thigh. The car ride is just as quiet as your walk as he massages at the bare skin. You're glad he doesn't live far, you need him now.

Both of you are immediately stripping each other of your clothes as soon as you step into the house. No one is home as he pushes you up the stairs to his room.

"Fuck, you can't wear that dress ever again," he teases, teeth nibbling at your ear as his hands run down your sides. Your back is pressed against his front and you're completely intoxicated with him. "You look gorgeous in it, baby."

"Thank you," you giggle as his lips move down to your neck. He presses firm kisses onto the delicate skin, hands traveling up to cup at your braless breasts. "Lip, need you."

He obliges, turning you in his grip and helping you out of your panties. Another one of his favorite items on you, a cute black, lacy pair that you had bought for him on your anniversary. He pushes you onto your back on the bed as he rids himself of the rest of his clothes.

Your eyes are trained on him as he undresses. He smirks at you as he takes off his boxers. The way your breathing increases and your thighs press together has his head filling with fog. Yours is practically a cloud with how foggy you are by the time he's crawling up the bed to hover you, hand brushing a stray hair out of your face.

He's slow with the way he kisses you. It's delicate like he's savoring every little bit of it. His tongue explores your mouth messily, saliva sloppily covering your lips. You lick at his lips desperately when he pulls away, just wanting him back.

Lip doesn't say anything as he moves down the bed, kissing down your body as he goes. He stops at your core as he presses kisses onto your inner thighs, hands grabbing at the skin to hold them apart. You think you could pass away when he finally licks up your pussy, tongue briefly dipping inside of you.

"Oh, Lip," you moan out, hands tangled in his hair as he continues. No man should ever be could ever be as good at eating pussy as Lip is. He knows just how to have your back arching off the bed, hands pulling at his hair, and his name falling out of your mouth.

He's messy with it too, lapping noisily at you. His lips suction around your clit as he teases your hole with two of his fingers. You squirm underneath him and his grip tightens on your hip. He has you pressed so firmly into the bed it makes your head dizzy.

"L-oh, fuck! Holy shit," you whine, tears brimming your eyes as he looks up at you. This is his favorite view in the entire world. You falling apart simply because of his mouth. His ego is huge as you choke on your words. All he has to do is look up at you with those wide eyes, big hands holding you down and it throws you over the edge.

You moan out his name as he licks at you. He's not ready to stop when you finally push at his head. He kisses your thighs as your breathing evens out.

"Good?" he smirks, moving up to lie beside you. You turn into his body, resting your head on his chest. You huff, squinting your eyes to look at him.

"Shut up." You kiss him, being able to faintly taste yourself on him. You reach down and he huffs pulling away to rest his head on your shoulder. "What's wrong? Why aren't you hard?"

"Uh, I- I, holy fuck this is embarrassing, I came when I was eating you out." He expects you to laugh at him, but your eyes somehow glaze over even more.

"Well, can I help you out?" you ask, moving down the bed. His hand subconsciously moves the hair out of your face as he takes a breath. He's already getting hard again.

"Course, baby. Go for it."

[azen13]

Since somebody sent in an ask about favorite yandere males in genshin, who are your favorite yandere hsr males?

CW: Yandere Themes

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Azen posting 2 actual writing-ish posts in one day? Extremely unlikely, but now that I'm on break and finished writing about mermen, possible! All things aside, thank you so much for this ask!

I'd say absolute favorites are Argenti and Jing Yuan, but before I talk about them in-depth, I wanted to do some honorable mentions. Aventurine has a lot of potential as a yandere in my opinion, considering his backstory and how that might have affected his psyche, but I just find myself struggling to tap into his character. I love Boothill, but find it hard to envision him as a yandere considering the fact that he's a Galaxy Ranger. Still, like Aventurine, I definitely can see a motive for why he would be a yandere. In my favorite Genshin yanderes post, I mentioned how Neuvillette and Zhongli are two of my favorites from that game, and I also really like Dan Heng/Dan Feng! Draconic characters are really fun to write for, but I'm not very good at keeping up with HSR lore, so I try to shy away from writing Dan Feng because of how entrenched his character is in a lot of the lore. Dan Heng is a little hard for me to write because I struggle to see how he could act on his possessive tendencies with the Astral Express crew being in such close proximity. Dr. Ratio is a super interesting character, but I really struggle with his characterization and while I have a few drabbles written about him, they will not be posted because I don't like how they turned out. Gallagher is another character I've loved since his release, but like Dan Feng, I'm both confused about his lore, and I'm unsure on how to write for him in general when in-game he...doesn't exist? Still not exactly sure what happened to him haha. I recently posted a Moze drabble and depending on what happens in the future, he may move up to be one of my favorites, because I think he has a lot of potential and I'd love to write a oneshot from his perspective about realizing his feelings, but I just need more time working on getting used to his character before I can definitively decide how I feel on him. And finally, I love Sampo, and I actually have an idea of a fic I want to write in regards to a MSND!AU where Sampo is Puck, but he's another character where I really struggle with his characterization.

Ok, now it's time to talk about Argenti and Jing Yuan.

When I say Argenti is my favorite yandere from this game, I mean it. I think he has so much potential as a yandere, and I have this very specific vision of a reader who is an Emanator of Beauty that he finds one day and kidnaps and brings back to his ship. He's such a gentleman to them, but he refuses to let them leave. You can see stars shooting by the windows of his spaceship, see your home planet slowly shrinking into a tiny pinprick on the horizon, until it just pops out of existence. Your new home is with him, he tells you, pressing a chaste kiss against your wrist. He pampers and dotes on you every chance he gets. He can't let you leave his ship, so he brings back souvenirs and memorabilia from every planet he visits. Sometimes he takes photos if he can figure out how to work his phone's camera. Every hour or so when he's off espousing Idrila's prowess to some planet, you'll get a text or call from him making sure you're safe. He cares so much. He cares too much. He cares too much, but he means so well. He sees something of such supreme beauty, and he can't help but want to shelter it.

It's how sweet yet cruel he would be that gets me. The thing that draws me to write yandere content is the fact that these feelings are born from a distorted sense of love. What they are distorted by changes depending on the character, and in Argenti's case, I think it's due to an extreme sense of devotion to his beloved. That method of distortion is probably one of the most fascinating for me to explore. Beyond that, I also think he'd be a good yandere logistically. I could easily see him having a method of controlling the entrance to his spaceship to prevent his beloved from being able to leave while he's out. All in all, I just really, really love Yandere!Argenti, and I hope that me talking about him might have convinced some people to start looking into him more, because he's such a fun character to write for!

Onto Jing Yuan, I have less to talk about, but I still feel really strongly about him! I'm pretty sure most of the writing that I've posted on my blog has been about Jing Yuan, and that's because I feel like I have a good handle on his character. Jing Yuan strikes me less as someone affected by obsessive love, and more as someone affected by overprotective desires. He's lived centuries and seen countless close friends die, and because of that, I think when he's in love, he'd be extremely anxious about losing his beloved. I'm not sure if I talked about this when I talked about my favorite Genshin yanderes, but something that I also find helpful in terms of writing is the level of power the yandere has. This could range from something like pure strength to how much social capital the yandere has. Jing Yuan, in my opinion, is incredibly powerful in a multitude of ways. Canonically, he's an Emanator of The Hunt, he's General of the Luofu, and he's hundreds of years old. Strength, social capital, wisdom, and more. All this power makes for a really fantastic dynamic in my opinion, and it's really fun to write for.

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

Hi Gigi! 💖

11 or 87 for the fic game?

Helloooo Calli! I guess im in a super ridiculously fluffy mood rn, this is going to be a 2 for 1 because i definitely want to draw this scene for fourth of july, hope you like it! :)

87. “Stay awake.”

“Gallagher” Mickey drawled out, crooning in his ear.

Ian did his best to hum in response, but the warm evening air mixing with the light summer breeze felt just too comforting, and the rhythmic laping of Lake Michigan against the shore too hypnotic. 

The joint they split and the two beers he’d finished were settling heavily over his brain and most importantly, his husbands chest was so firm and warm behind him from where Ian was leaning back, seated between his legs. It was all just too much, and he was fighting a loosing battle against sleep despite his husbands protests. 

“Gallagher” Mickey repeated, a little more whining this time. “You can’t drag me out here with half of the fucking city to watch the fireworks and then fall asleep on me. I could be shooting off bottle rocketswith Sandy and Carl right now, stay the fuck awake.”

“‘m awake” Ian defended weakly, not opening his eyes. He settled even more comfortably against his husbands soft body, and exhaled a contented breath. 

Mickey brought both hands up to either side of Ian’s head, scratching at his scalp slightly before shaking his head back and forth with each word. “Mickey” he whined, doing a high pitched impersonation of his husband “lets go to the beach this Fourth of July, we can bring beers and watch the big fireworks, maybe even bring some gay ass sparklers. There definitely won’t be a million fucking people around us and I definitely won’t park my ginormous ass in the sand and fall asleep.”

“-doesn’t even sound like me” Ian pouted. “I’m just resting my eyes.”

Leaning over, Mickey pressed a loud kiss against his cheek, making Ian twitch “you are a fucking liar is what you are.” 

Knowing that the big groups of people were all preoccupied with their own celebrations, Mickey started smacking kisses all over his husbands face, punctuated by little nibbling bites against his cheek and jaw. He could feel his husband’s smile against his skin, he smelled like beer and summer and Ian’s favorite brand of deodorant. 

Ian wasn’t really the giggling type, so he blamed it on being half asleep when his husbands playful treatment roused happy, bubbling giggles from him.

When Mickey finally kissed his husbands lips, Ian actually opened his eyes, blearily leaning up and twisting to chase him for a second before they were interrupted by a deafening boom!

Ian snapped back towards the lake, where brilliant reds, blues and whites were raining down and reflected on the dark, expansive lake. 

Mickey didn’t say anything, but from the way he snaked his arms around Ian’s torso, holding him tightly and pressing his cheek against the top of Ian’s head, Ian could tell he was enjoying the show.

Red and white, shooting up with a whizzing wail of anticipation. Another one, pure gold exploding in the air. Ian was fully awake, at least for now, and he was fixated on the dazzling display before them. 

justice for chew toy Ian gallagher

Prompt game fun!

[thepupperino]

Oh, fancy seeing you here. Gimmie some gallavich with the prompt #10 😌 if you're feeling it, you know I love me some bratty mickey 😏

Love you 🫶🏼🖤

Hi I love YOU

Anyway like I told you I kind of ran away with this one but I hope you enjoyyy

10. …desperately

Sex with Ian has always been fun. Even when they were kids and he was terrified Terry would find out, being with him was fun.

It’s fun to learn and explore and experiment together, figuring out what they like, what works for them.

And that exploration has come with a few surprises.

Ian, typically such a sweetheart, has this commanding presence in the bedroom, and he just kind of naturally has a way of ordering Mickey around and getting what he wants.

And Mickey, king of the South Side, rough and tumble, just fucking takes it. Ian Gallagher says “jump” and he says “how high?”

Until recently. Mickey’s learned it can be fun to test the limits, push Ian’s buttons, give him a hard time. Sometimes he’ll ignore an order, sometimes he’ll mouth off, and it’s fun. They both know he’ll give in eventually, that he and Ian will both get what they want, but it’s almost like a game, seeing how far he can take things before Ian takes what he wants.

“Fuck,” Ian groans, his hand around Mickey’s throat, his cock deep inside him. “Tell me how you feel.”

Mickey draws in a breath as Ian’s grip releases, feeling his lungs expand. He could answer—it’s obvious enough how he feels—but he’s also feeling a little fun, so he dodges the question. “Yeah, right there,” he says instead.

“Mick….” And it’s off, the game’s started, Mickey’s taken back just a little bit of power. “Tell me how you feel.” There’s an edge to his voice now, something beside the horniness there when he first asked. Something demanding, something fun.

“Feel fine,” Mickey answers, his short nails dragging down Ian’s back. A little push and pull, give him something showing he feels good, but don’t say it.

Ian’s hand finds his throat again, a little more pressure than before. Mickey squirms under the weight, and Ian fixes him with a serious look. “Am I not being clear?” Ian asks. He leans in, gets real close, close enough that his lips brush against Mickey’s when he speaks, the air from his words warm against his skin. “Thought I told you to tell me how you fucking feel.”

And this is when it gets really fun, when Ian gets rough and demanding, when Mickey feels something building deep inside him. It’s like this twisted sense of pride—he did this, he has this effect on Ian—joined by a sappy feeling of love because Ian has this effect on him.

Mickey’s mouth falls open, maybe in pleasure, maybe in effort to breathe, and he recognizes another feeling, something like desperation, desire to get what he wants, desire to please. Ian eases up on the pressure, his hand still wrapped around Mickey’s throat, and Mickey only takes a second to catch his breath before he crashes his lips against Ian’s, moaning into his mouth, “Feel so fucking good.”

Hey did you know you can prompt me too?

[mybrainismelted]

First Line Analysis!

I was tagged by @energievie and @bawlbrayker for this one - looks like fun!

rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics/chapters posted on AO3 (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics) and try to draw some conclusions.

“Pick up the pace!” Ian called out to the stragglers at the back of the pack. “Nobody gets breakfast until everyone finishes!” from Camp is a Battlefield

Life on the run was exhilarating. from On the Run

3. “Fuckin’ disgusting,” Mickey grumbled again, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. from Had a shitty day, man

4. “Were there ever fish in that thing?” Mickey asked one night as he and Ian lounged on the living room sofa at the Gallagher house. from Fish are friends

5. “Katie! Slow down and stay where I can see you!” Mickey barked, cursing his sister for talking him into this. from Katie

6. They weren’t really supposed to be up here.  from On the roof

7. It was a stupidly hot summer in Chicago. from Summer Heat

8. The Gallagher clan was one that should not have existed. from Battlefield Chicago

9. It had been a long day between both of them having to work, Mickey still stressing about the wedding, and whatever drama Lip had going on with Tami again. from White Stargazer Lilies

10. The party was really kinda lame. from Flights of Fancy Well... I really thought this was going to show that I usually start with a line of dialogue, but I guess I don't do that as often as I thought! So... a mix though of starting with a line of dialogue and a short descriptive sentence, I guess? Maybe I don't have a pattern. lol tagging some people to try it out! @roryonic, @callivich, @blue-disco-lights, @sgtmickeyslaughter, @crossmydna,

@celestialmickey @ms-moonlight-inn @notherenewjersey @gallavichgeek @silvanshadow

@darlingian @mmmichyyy @sam-loves-seb

[jessij1997-gallavichxlove]

Would absolutely love number 17 🖤🧡

Have fun 🔥

17. "Faster-ah shit-harder..."

Mickey fucking Milkovich, huh? He thought when he went down the street on an hot August evening. Sometimes Ian couldn't believe Mickey and he were hanging out. Not really hanging out. More fucking and sharing cigarettes after. Not much of talking, not much of anything else. Except fucking.

Sometimes Ian couldn't believe it really happens. He often wondered why the fuck Mickey was doing this. He writes a quick and short text like '2 at the dugouts' or 'Kash there?' And then they meet and fuck. Not more, not less. That's what makes him sometimes believe it didn't really happen. It didn't feel real sometimes.

And sometimes his brain was tricking him. That something in his head is really fucked up. That sometimes in the night when he dreams of kissing Mickey or touching him more than with his hips and his dick, he think it didn't even happen really.

And sometimes Ian wishes Mickey would show him something. Something more than a bitten lip or a rised eyebrow when he gazed on Ians boner.

But today it was something different. A bit. Only an little bit but Ian got it. Mickey didn't text him. He shows up at the Kash’n��Grab, fucking pays for BBQ Pringles and silently asked him to meet. He snapped around like always and looks annoyed like always but he wasn't like always. Ian noticed he wants to act like always but Ian got it that something was different. A tiny little bit different like always.

Mickey wants to meet at 6 at the abandoned building and when Ian arrives the complex he heard where Mickey was.

Loud shoots in an second floor on the third building betrayed him. Ian jogged up the stairs and covered his ears when he entered the door with a light smile. Mickey was standing with his back to him and he looks fucking gorgeous. The legs in a firm position, the ass was fucking hot in this jeans, the black tanktop tight at his upper body and his muscles on his arms... Tensing and sweaty and fucking sexy when he reached his arms to shoot at the wall on the other side of the room.

When the magazine was empty Ian walked to Mickey. A cigarette in the corner of his mouth and a light smile on his face when he saw Ian was visible.

"Can I?" Ian asked and pointed to the gun.

Mickey handled it to him.

"Didn't know your into guns, Gallagher. You know how I works?" He chuckles a bit and does this thing with his eyebrows which Ian makes sweaty.

"You know shit about me, Milkovich" Ian says and takes the gun. "Glock 17. 9mm. A fucking classic one." Ian let his fingers wander over the shaft. Then he smiled, unlocked it, loadet it and put one hand on the magazin. Then he aimed and fired.

Someone has painted a target on the other side of the room and Ian fired on it. He draws a little circle with his bullets around the middle circle of the target.

"Fuck" Mickey smiled. Ian smirked and handled him the gun back. "ROTC?" He asked and Ian nodded.

Ians smirk went to a grin. "Didn't know your into guns, Milkovich" he looked down to Mickeys boner.

"Fuck you." Mickey said, went closer and fumbled at Ians belt. Ian grins and undresses Mickeys shirt.

"Wanna try something" Mickey said and pulled Ians jeans down.

Normally they didn't talk a lot during sex. They didn't talk a lot in general and normally they only fuck. No foreplay and barely preparation. Not more as needed.

But today it was different.

Mickey knees infront of Ian and jerked his half hard cock. Ian noticed the nervousness in Mickeys face and tembling hands jerks his dick in slow motion. And then, out of nowhere Mickey circled his tongue around the tip. Tastes the precum and wrapped his lips around Ian. He slowly began to bop his head and Ian watches him. He drank the picture of his rosy lips around his cock and closed eyes which enjoy the taste secretly.

"Look at me" Ian begged and Mickey opened his eyes, looked up to Ian, locked his eyes with his and Ian can't help himself but he never want something else except this feeling. Mickey was a fucking blow job campion. He never want someone else except Mickey.

The feeling was overwhelming and Mickey bobbed faster and deeper tried to get him ful in his mouth. He gagged but didn't stop. He drives Ian crazy.

Ian watches him as he pulled out his own cock and jerked himself in the same rhythm he sucked Ian.

"Come up" Ian breathed out and helped Mickey up. He stepped out of his own pants and with a rough gesture Ian shoved Mickey to a wall. Then he grabbed under Mickes right knee and left his leg up. Then he separated with one hand his cheeks for a better access to his rim and pushed his spit slicked fingers into Mickeys hole. The cold wall in his back he was a mess. Tried to suppress his moans and groans he bits his lip. Normally Ian wouldn't give a shit. But today it was different.

"Wanna hear you" he whispered and immediately after the words reaches Mickeys head he began to moan like a pornstar. Ian massages his prostate with his fingers and Mickey closed his eyes again and leand his head back on the wall.

One hand flat against the dirty wall with Mickeys leg over it and the other hand in Mickey Ian feels good. Fucking good.

"Ready?" He asked impatient. Mickey nods. And with that he pulled out his fingers and helped Mickey to held himself up at the wall.

"Arms 'round my neck" He said and it was much more contact than usual. Then Ian had Mickey cheeks in his hand, separated them and let Mickey sank down on his dick. Slowly. Teasing. Today it was different between them. They were closer than usual, more talkative than usual.

He gave Mickey a moment to adjust before he moved. But when he moved he didn't hold himself back. He want it. He want Mickey. And he want him to moan and groan and he want to burn the memory his head.

"Feels so good, Mick. So tight." Ian breathed against his neck.

"Faster-ah shit-harder... please." Mickey Milkovich fucking begged. And Ian obeyed. He fucked his brain out. He fucked him senseless and dump and when they were close Ian smirked.

"Where should I come? We didn't used a rubber"

"In me. I'm clean. In me Ian. Come in me. Oh Fuck!" Mickey moaned and clawed his fingernails into Ians back. He layed his head down onto his chest and moaned between them.

"You'll come untouched" Ian commands and Mickey slowly nods.

He never command Mickey during sex. But it felt right. It felt like Mickey needed this. Ian leaned in. Only a bit. He smells the soap from Mickeys hair, cigarettes and Mickey and it drives him crazy.

Mickeys moans went deeper and with clenching around Ians cock white ropes explode out the cock between them. Mickey clenched harder around Ian and he hits with two or three deep thrusts Mickeys prostate. His cum squirts against it and let Mickey moan again.

The two boys stands like that a few seconds and breathed against each others skin. Then Ian pulled out and helped Mickey to stand. Tembling knees and a lot of mess let the two smile.

After they cleaned up Mickey lits up a cigarette and passed it to Ian.

"We're doing this again?" Ian asked. Looked into space.

"What?" Mickey replied.

"This"

"Thought you fucked my brain out. Can you gimme a whole sentence, Gallagher?"

"Today it was different, I think. Better."

"Jesus Christ it was." Mickey chocked and takes a drag.

"So?" Ian asked.

"Whatta ya think dumpass? Maybe you'll blow me next time and fuck me in a real bed?" Mickey couldn't suppress a grin.

"Sure I'll do."

And he would. For the rest of their life.

Send me a number.

[ohkate]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

Thanks to @energievie and @metalheadmickey for the tag love.

---

which character from any media would you like to have as a father? Gomez Addams. Totally loyal and loves his family. Devoted to his wife. Rich. Doesn't mind me being a weirdo. In fact, encourages it.

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?

This little jerk right here. I mean look at how he's all wrapped up in his mom.

what is your Chinese takeout order? Well, potstickers always. If I could *be* a food, it would be a potsticker. But also, I live in southcoast MA where Chinese food is completely different from everywhere else- and superior I will fight you on that hill- and so this is more complex to answer. Chow mein here is made with what's called 'Fall River' noodles. They are made entirely for this area and are amazing. It's my favorite dish. I've lived all over the country and Chinese food elsewhere is just so shitty.

what's your favourite emoji? I still can't make emojis. : p That's as good as it's getting.

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house? Home theater. I should lie and say library.

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly? I Dream of Jeannie. Not really a kids show but I was obsessed with it as a kid. I also liked Punky Brewster.

what was your tumblr like when you first joined? So gifs had to be under 1MB. You kids are spoiled with your 5MB lavishness. So there were a lot of shitty gifs. Tumblr was just better in general. There used to be so many great gay porn gifs. It was awesome. Then the morality police came in and made it less fun for everyone. My tumblr was basically just a history of my fav gay pairings that I brought over from LiveJournal. Don't get me started on LiveJournal.

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself? Bohemian cool girl. She just wakes up like that. I could never pull it off. This dumpster fire takes some work.

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best? I barely know how to drive around my block without using GPS.

what is your favourite piece of art? My favorite artist is Flavio Zarck and my favorite piece is THIS. He makes creepy looking sculptures out of scrap metal. He also did a series on drawings made by by people suffering from severe mental health issues like paranoid schizophrenia that was really interesting.

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like? It looks like a can of Coca Cola. I should drink more water. If only to surprise my kidneys every once in a while.

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave? Ugh where do I start. I unapologetically love the Cinderella story where someone saves the other, or you find out later one is rich or a prince or whatever. I love hurt/comfort....like serious abuse where the other person helps the other recover and they fall in love. I love the 'pretending to be together for x reason but end up falling in love' trope. I also love the ABO 'oh no i've gone into heat! And my low key soulmate just happens to be here. Whatever will I do?!" trope.

do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it? Workbag with laptop. Probably just some errant tampons that somehow have come unwrapped.

if you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be? Lip for sure. I think Mickey would just wreck Lip. I love the episode where they go to shoot up the gentrified store together and Lip seems intimidated by Mickey. And Mickey was taking out all his anger for Ian on Lip. Mickey looked so hot. There was a slight sexual tension in that scene.

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did? Like @energievie said, Gallavich taught me the joys of AUs. I love so many of them. Also ABO. I got into ABO by accident with the Hannibal fandom, and those fuckers can seriously write. I found myself obsessed and now not a lot of sex scenes in regular fanfic can hold a candle to ABO most of the time. Regular fanfic was like weed and ABO was like heroin and now I'm addicted. I can't believe I'm into this but...it's hot.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian? Probably. He's pretty strong. It's just awkward because Ian is so tall. He'd find a way.

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house? Sandy took it when no one was looking.

[themurderofcrowscollective]

In minutes you're getting your human appearance tailored to your preferences, whistling a tune as you check yourself out in the mirror. Ginger hair, a fair amount of freckles peppered on pale skin, green eyes and a small tooth gap between your two front teeth. " I almost look like my brother, Rowan. " You giggle a bit before you change the hair color to brown and give your skin a bit more tanner color. " Oh that looks a lot better. Alright, I need a new name cause Garret would just give it away. Jared? " You look at your cat who seems to squint at the name. " Not Jared, got it. Richard? I could go by Dick for short. " Midnight looks up and down at you before he shakes his head no. " Fuck. " Sitting next to your cat, you sigh and think of a name until you snap your fingers. " Terry! I can be a Terry, this is a Terry face after all. " Your cat seems to enjoy it, meowing happily as you pick up your bags you've packed and access your phone, giving a confirmation that you're ready for deployment before getting Midnight into a cat carrier. " You all good in there? " Midnight meows in content as he loafs, a portal opening up and allowing you to step through. - - - Your name is now Terry Gallagher, you were born and raised in Dublin, Ireland and you like fishing, hunting, and secretly reading manga because you're still a diehard fan of Japanese culture and reading manga is fun. And you just so happen to know quite a lot about the spiritual world, but you've got a secret you'll take to the grave. Once stepping through the portal, you are instantly placed inside a helicopter with no one else inside. You seem to recognize the pilot who knows very well what you are, but to play it safe, he addresses you as your secret alias. " We'll be landing on the tarmac in about 10 minutes, Lieutenant Gallagher. " You only nod at him, holding the cat carrier on your lap. " It'll be okay kitty, just a few minutes longer. " Midnight does not seem to be bothered by the helicopter sound, in fact he's asleep. This little asshole can sleep through anything really, so you're not worried. In 10 minutes you land, and as the door slides open, you get out and squint a bit due to the sun being in your fucking face before you put on your sunglasses and adjust your eyes to find your newest Captain waiting for you. You forgot what it felt like to be alive, to be around living people so you can't help but look around and see the other men and women of the base leaving for missions or coming back, conversing with each other as you make your way to Captain John Price. " Sir, it is an honor to be here. " You salute a bit before Price returns the salute and smiles. " Welcome to the team, Lt. Gallagher! Come on in. " As soon as you're inside, you feel chills go down your spine as you follow him. It's been decades since you've been on an active base so you're a bit excited to be here again. Despite your eyes allowing you to see the spirits of those who've passed (who also recognize you without the human disguise) pass you by and wave or say hi, you're excited to be around living beings. He leads you into the breakroom designated for the 141, a special team you've had the honors of getting to see in battle. So many Shadows died during Las Almas which meant you had to have help in sorting who went where during that time, and you sometimes peeked in on what they did. You have a good idea on who everyone is, but you don't fully know them enough to even be called acquaintances. In the far corner is Ghost, not too far from him is Soap. At least you had photos to go with names when you were busy packing your stuff, or else you'd be the laughing stock for centuries among your fellow grim reapers. You scour the room and add faces to names. Konig and Horangi are at the table drawing together, Roach is watching a video with Gaz, Alejandro and Rodolfo are definitely making love eyes at each other and mumbling a few things in Spanish that you'd rather not translate to anyone, and Nikolai is getting up and approaching you. Oh shit.

" Shall I have this dance? "

Ghost has danced with Death countless times and only watched Death take his friends and loved ones with no ability of doing anything to stop it even more. He likes to imagine he's Death itself, until the day Death arrived atop a black horse in his dream... or should I say vision?

- - -

You are Death, not in a 'I'm-so-war-torn-and-edgy' way but in a more legit way. You were once a man named Garret, you had been slaughtered in captivity of the enemy and then woke up to find yourself being interviewed by the former Grim Reaper who instantly hired you on the spot as the new Grim Reaper.

Your horse is apparently your old cat named Midnight reincarnated so when you found him, you two were happy to see each other and an old bond between you both came back from the dead.

Some perks of being the Grim Reaper is wielding the scythe, yes you'll admit you're still a dork, and getting to travel the world freely. Since you're as dead as a doorknob, you also get to see the spirit world so you're a frequent visitor to Japan for the festivals held by the Mononokes and Yokais.

- - -

Every Day of The Dead, you visit old friends who've long died and still use your skills of speaking Spanish so they don't get rusty. It's great partying with them, and speaking of languages, you've mastered every language before you were signed up for field duty.

One night after being a sweetheart to a lonely dying man, letting him cross over to the afterlife, you hear your phone go ding so you take it out and see you've been given a new assignment. What strikes you as odd is that this isn't your usual task of finding a certain person across the world to help them move on but... to find a group of people who need to stay alive.

You accept it anyway, whistling for Midnight who comes galloping with a whinny. " New task Midnight, I gotta keep a group of individuals alive this time. A little strange but I'm always one for something new. " The pair of you start heading off with a portal opening up quickly in front, which you both enter through.

Upon entering through, you're back in your personal room with a letter on your bed. Midnight morphs into a black cat and sits on your bed, meowing while softly papping the letter. " Oh, thanks Midnight. " You pick it up and start reading it.

" 'Dear Mr. Reaper, upon accepting this task you hereby are required to wear a human disguise and it is important you do so as to not startle anyone. You are still free to go about your other tasks but you cannot forget that your group of particular individuals are of great importance.' Wow they still always seem so posh in these letters. Anyways... 'Upon further notice, your records from your previous life will not be used but you will go under a new alias with a secret life. It is up to you to remain anonymous, and once your task is fulfilled, you will be free from this task and go onto other tasks.' " You notice there's another slip of paper so you swap it with the other letter. " 'Your task will last until the designated timestamps of each individual.' " Below is a list of names and the ages they die. John Price - Current age: 48 - Death age: 90 " Goddamn. " Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick - Current age: 28 - Death age: 86 John 'Soap' MacTavish - Current age: 28 - Death age: 84 Simon 'Ghost' Riley - Current age: 29 - Death age: 85 For a moment you think the last two names are going to die together until you find a little sidenote. 'Simon Riley and John MacTavish are to die at the same time. They are bound by the chains of Fate and their love is written in the stars.' Huh. You've heard of those kinds of deaths, where love continues to live on even in death. You know a few guys like that too, but you've never experienced it in person. There are other names too. 'Konig' - Current age: 32 - Death age: 80 Kim 'Horangi' Hong-jin - Current age: 31 - Death age: 79 Another pair bound by chains. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson - Current age: 27 - Death age: 75 Nikolai 'Nik' Belinski - Current age: 49 - Death age: 90 Alejandro Vargas - Current age: 42 - Death age: 83 Rodolfo Parra - Current age: 41 - Death age: 82 And that makes a fourth pair. You catalogue the four pairs bounded by fate and take a deep breath, folding away the letter and putting it in your pocket. Midnight meows at you softly. " I know, this'll be one of the longest tasks I've done. But at least it's not eternity. " - - - (Pairs bounded by fate are John x Nikolai, Ghost x Soap, Konig x Horangi and Alejandro x Rodolfo. Yeh.)

[y0itsbri]

Hey bri(: how are you? Hope your day is going well !

Headcanon challenge:

1. Besides “Mick” and “Mickey”, what’s Ian nickname for Mickey? From all the nicknames Mickey calls him , what’s Ian’s favorite?

2. What’s the story behind Mickey’s knuckle tattoos? (When / how / by who) When Ian gets a tattoo for Mickey, what is it / on what occasion?

3. Random turn-on for Mickey and a random turn-on for Ian? (Bonus: something that really shouldn’t be a turn on but is)

4. What’s their Instagram @ ? When did they start following each other?

5. If they get a pet, is it a dog (who walks it more often?) or a cat (who cuddles with it more often) ? 

hi! ooooh thank you for the ask! these made my day so much better!

you already know 'baby' is canon but UGH i can't get that outta my mind. that's his BABY. obsessed. love it. perfect. no notes. ian loooves being called 'hubby'. it started out as a joke with debbie teasing them, but it made butterflies explode in his chest when he heard mickey use it in passing. mickey caught on and uses it whenever he wants to get ian nice n flustered

when: UGH like. he was just a boy in s1 and he already had them. a BOY got his knuckles tatted!!! :_( i think i'm gonna say he got em within a year of s1. before that, he used to draw em on with sharpie how: family right of passage. piggy backed a session w colin and it hurt like a bitch by who: a cousin of a cousin. like he's seen them in passing but doesn't know what their real name is. they always seem to have a cig hanging out of their mouth ian isn't incredibly artsy, so i think he would just get mickey's name on him. i think the idea of him getting it on his arm, but also chestttt or hip or ring finger (just an 'm' in that case) feels right. he does it for an anniversary or a birthday or just a week that mickey was feeling insecure. mickey gets bashful whenever he sees the tattoo

ian loooves it when mickey reaches for something on a top shelf and his heels lift a bit and his shirt rides up. he loves seeing his man s t r e t c h. mickey loves it when ian wears his reader's glasses! (glasses wearers u r sexy) but yuh bonus: crime! be gay do crime!

I LOVE THISSSS. mickey is @ mi.aleks bc he thought it was artsy. also he doesn't have his last name bc he didn't want his family to find him. ian is @ ian_gallagher_96. in my heart i feel that he went for the double dash and the birth year. ian started following mickey around early s2. he finally bit the bullet and expected to be told off, but mickey just teased him lightheartedly. ian grinned and asked mickey when he was going to follow him back and mickey flipped him the bird in response. then i think with all the turmoil going on, mickey deleted his instagram several times. maybe he had an anonymous account that followed ian, some of the other gallaghers (to keep tabs on ian), and some hobby accounts, but he never achieved mutual status with ian until after they got married. i feel like getting into instagram again would be something he would do in lockdown, sharing their breakfast or an artsy shoe pic and of course candids of his handsome hubby.

if they got a dog, ian would def walk it more. mickey is lazy at heart -- the man deserves to Rest! if they got a cat, it would snuggle mickey more. i feel like ian would be kind of scared of the cat at first but then they become proper pet dads in no time. right now (end of s11), i don't think they need anything. they just got free on their own. just the two on em. i think they want to relic in that for a bit before adding another family member.

thanks for thinking of me for this challenge! was so fun to think about and i hope i got my thought out in coherent enough sentences LOL

[damonjuicyscock]

Pictures of You - Chapter 16 (90's Liam Gallagher X Reader)

Pairing: 2000's Liam Gallagher X Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst (Mention of blood bc Liam and Noel fighting... AGAIN), fluff, smutty (Oral female receiving, P in V sex, protected sex, listen to Liam and ALWAYS WEAR A CONDOM).

Words: 2429

Summary: Back on tour with Oasis in 2000 as their official photographer as you've always been, you find it hard to have a moment alone with your husband. Also, Barcelona in May 2000 doesn't go as expected.

A/N: Hello ! I am back only today, but college is really being a pain in the arse so I'm sorry if the chapter only comes now. I beg you all please to be indulgent and not to leave me comments when I'm late, I know it, but sadly I can't do otherwise, I'm doing everything that I can to work on both college homework and my writings here. ;)

Anyway, here's chapter 16 (Anyway here's Wonderwall), I hope you'll enjoy it as per usual, next chapter will be the epilogue (yes Liam is leaving us for now, but he will come back of course !) and I don't know when it'll be published, (probably this weekend, because this time, no homework to do, at least at the moment.)

Enjoy !

(Damn this man...)

2000:

Back on tour with Oasis, with a baby.

It wasn’t simple, you can tell, so for each gig, Maggie was looking after baby Lennon while I was taking pictures.

Meg had also brought Noel’s and her’s new-born baby girl Anais.

Having a sexual life was also complicated.

Lennon was sleeping well and generally slept through the night, but as if by chance, everytime Liam and I were trying to go at it, Lennon started crying, which always caused Liam and I to argue. The thing being none’s fault. Draw.

It wasn’t until the end of the first part of the European tour that Liam and I got to be alone.

Peggy came a few days in London and was staying at Paul’s. With his agreement, she asked us if we agreed on letting her take Lennon with her for us to be just us two.

And oh, thank you Peggy.

March 28th 2000- a train from London Victoria:

Liam, where are we going?

Not gonna tell ye, it’s a surprise.

Can you at least give me a clue?

Nope, it would ruin everything. He answered

It was 11 am and we were on a train, going nowhere, or at least, somewhere I didn’t know where.

When we arrived in Chertsey, I immediately understood.

Don’t tell me that’s what I think! I exclaimed

And what d’ye think?

That we’re going to Thorpe Park.

And yer fucking right. He answered, smiling

Liam, I’m 30.

And?

And I’m 30, that’s all, I may be too old for that shit.

Shut yer cake ‘ole love, there is no age to have fun. Remember?

Remember what? I answered, holding both his hands

We’re gonna live forever sweetheart. So let’s fucking have fun.

Liam would always stay young in a way, that’s a fact.

And he would always make us feel like it.

So ready to feel like a kid again?

Fuck yes. I answered, kissing him

We left the train station, walking to the amusement park.

And we wouldn’t only be kids again. We would feel intense thrills only adults like us can feel.

We had fun, you can say it.

Screaming on the top of our lungs and holding hands in rollercoasters, getting soaked on the loggers leap and laughing out loud, stopping to kiss passionately in the middle of a labyrinth, eating cotton candies and candy apples.

And without knowing it, I realized I needed this day more than ever.

We came back in London, where Liam took me on a date in a lovely restaurant on the docks. The restaurant was charming and after leaving it, we went for a little walk.

Liam had bought a bottle of rum for us to share at home, while watching a movie.

Without doing it on purpose, Liam put the adult channel and there was a porn.

We both inclined our heads looking at the actress’s position.

That’s… He started

Complicated to reproduce. I pursued

It requires…

A lot of flexibility and training. She’s definitely a gymnast. What.The. Fuck.

Yea, what the fuck.

Liam put another channel.

We’re definitely fucking not doing this.

No indeed, we’re not.

Liam looked at me.

No Liam, we’re not.

What? So I can’t fucking look at ye without ye thinking I’m a fucking perv? I was going to ask ye what ye want to watch! He laughed

Sorry my love. I have an idea.

Tell me.

The mirror on the ceiling of our bedroom.

Oh… Ye wanna cuddle and sleep?

You totally misunderstood me Li’. I said, a grin on my face

Oh, I see! Ye want me to be ye movie don’t ye?

Yes, that’s the idea.

But what kind of movie?

Oh, I’ll let you decide what kind.

Liam approached me, put his hand on my hips and started kissing me.

While he deepened the kiss, I laid down on the couch, with him on top of me.

I felt his hands wander a bit everywhere and tugged at the hem of my PJ tee.

I let him take it off me and I did the same with his.

He got the access to my breasts and started kissing them. I moved uncomfortably.

Don’t worry baby, you’re still beautiful. You’re even more.

I smiled, relieved.

His lips kept sliding down until he found the hem of my PJ shorts.

May I? He asked

You better. I answered, smiling

He tore it off me, not wanting to wait anymore, leaving me in my undies.

And now, we’re pursuing this in our bedroom. He said, looking at me with love and lust

He took me in a bridal style, transporting me in our bedroom and laid me on our bed, him on top of me.

Now look at the mirror on the ceiling and let me make ye feel good sweetheart.

He slid my undies off and started licking at my clit, causing me to throw my head back on the pillows, while looking at what Liam was doing to me in the mirror.

It was so arousing, and I was wet.

Soon, I flet my orgasm approach.

Are ye close baby? Ye wanna come?

Fuck… please Li’, make me…

He sped the movements of his tongue, and I became a moaning mess, my whole body trembling in pleasure, Liam holding my hips down on the bed, helping me riding over my climax.

When I came down from my high, I felt my husband move to take the rest of his clothes off.

He was about to enter me, but I stopped him.

Li’.

Wot? Ye changed yer mind?

Hell no! But…

But what?

Huh… condom?

Oh yea, sure, soz, I forgot ‘bout that.

I wasn’t taking the pill anymore; I didn’t want to. But I didn’t want another child. At least, not yet.

Liam fumbled in the night table and took out a little blue package of it.

H ripped it open with his teeth and rolled the condom on his hard member.

This time we’re ready. He said

He kissed me and slowly entered me.

I hissed in pain. It had been quite some time that we didn’t do anything, and Lennon’s birth also probably acted on this.

Are ye okay? Liam asked, worried

Yes, just give me a few minutes please.

Of course love. He answered, smiling at me

Liam let me get adjusted to his size and left kisses everywhere while doing so.

I got to relax, and I finally nodded, indicating to Liam that he could move.

He started thrusting in me, slowly, making love to me.

My eyes were riveted to the mirror, looking at Liam’s hips rolling against mine, and looking at his exquisite ass.

Fuck… Yer so tight… I love ye Y/N… Do ye like to watch me make love to ye?

I answered with a loud moan.

I’ll take this as a yes. He added, also moaning

My nails dug in his back. Seeing both Liam’s body moving against mine and his face contorsionning with pleasure threw me over the edge.

Oh God… Liam…

Ye wanna come? Yer close baby?

Yes!

He sped up his movements and my body started shaking in pleasure again and left me being only whimpers and cries.

My eyes shut themselves in the process, and I heard Liam grunt loudly a first time.

I love you Liam… I love you…

I love ye Y/N. So fucking much!

Liam grunted again and this time, he spilled himself in the condom.

He collapsed next to me, and we laughed, taking time to come down from our ecstasy.

Wow, what a day… I said

I know, right? He answered

We laughed again

Still so proud of himself. I added

I am proud, would ye like to talk to him? He pursued

I kissed him a few times, starting to tickle him.

And this morning, me missus was telling me that she was too old to have fun and now yer tickling me as if we were fucking teens.

Yes, I know. And you’re right Li’. I’m not too old. Fuck… I’m fucking thirsty. I’ll go have a drink.

Leave it to me. What d’ye want to drink?

Well I know someone who has bought a nice bottle of rum earlier…

Liam smiled at me.

I’m going.

He kissed me before leaving the bedroom.

When he entered the kitchen, I heard him yell like a little girl.

Li’ are you okay?

Y/N, Help me please!

I put on my nightgown and join him in the kitchen. Liam was sat on the table, his legs drawn up against him.

Hey, what is it? I asked, worried

The…the…the mouse, just here. He said panicked, showing me the little animal with his finger

Huh what?

I’M FUCKING SCARED OF MICE Y/N! He shouted

Oh boy. The man never had feared his violent father and his big brother but was scared of mice. What a paradox.

*

Being married to the man Liam Gallagher is, had its good and bad moments as you all know.

And a bad moment came, again. This time it had nothing to do with me or cheating on me.

It was fare more worse than that. It was attacking his own family.

May 24th 2000- Barcelona-Spain:

On this day, Oasis were supposed to play in Barcelona.

But Whitey had tendinitis, so the show was cancelled but postponed to July.

So the guys spent the whole night drinking. Liam and Noel seemed to go along, as if Liam had grown up since our son was born.

I took this as an opportunity to take pictures of the band.

But oh, Liam can be a pain in the arse and be a total fucker when he’s drunk, he should never have ventured into such grave territory as that on which he has embarked.

Noel was showing pictures of Anais to the rest of the band, proud of the dad he became 5 months before.

Maybe was he joking as he always told me, or maybe was he serious, but Liam’s humor wasn’t to everyone’s taste. Especially Noel.

Oh I’m soz Noel… Liam started

Fer what?

Yer daughter.

Why? Ye think she’s ugly, don’t ye?

Oh no, she’s pretty!

Then what the fuck our kid?

I’m just soz fer ye that she’s not yers.

Fuck off! Noel answered, laughing at first

No really, I mean it. Ye really should take a paternity test, she doesn’t look like ye at all.

Liam! Shut the fuck up! I said, shocked, thinking he was being serious

Yo, what d’ye mean? Noel said, starting to get angry

What is it right, is that yer missus has most likely gone elsewhere during our studio sessions in France.

Liam, stop it! I shouted

Take this back right now William. Noel threatened

Well I’m soz but I’m just helping ye face the fucking truth man.

Oh shit, here we go again… I said, rolling my eyes but starting to panic

Noel threw himself on his brother and started hitting him and punching him. Liam tried to defend himself, but Noel was so enraged that the adrenaline of the moment made him stronger than he originally was.

He split his brother’s lip open, blood spilling out of it.

Gem and Alan tried to separate them and finally got to, Noel still wanting to take the life out of his younger brother.

I helped Liam to get up.

I’m fucking leaving, ye went too far this time! Noel yelled

Oi, I was joking! Can’t ye take a joke anymore?

It wasn’t fucking funny Li’! I answered

Noel opened and slammed the door; I ran after him in the hotel’s corridor.

Noel, wait, don’t go! I said, grabbing his arm

No Y/N, I’m soz but I’m leaving, ye won’t change me mind.

Listen, Noel, He’s drunk, he doesn’t mean…

Stop defending him Y/N! He has no excuse! None!

Yes, you’re right, he has no excuse, but alcohol…

Alcohol is not a reason, he can’t act like this because he drank too much, he has no right to! I’m leaving, I go back to me wife and daughter. Take care Y/N.

You too Noely.

I went back in the room we were in and saw Liam with a tissue in one of his nose holes so he wouldn’t bleed on the carpets.

He’s a crazy fucking bastard! I was only joking!

The fact Noel was leaving pissed me off even more.

I went towards Liam and slapped him.

You fucking idiot! I yelled

Oi!

There is no Oi! For fuck’s sake Liam, don’t joke with this kind of things!

Not me fault if me humor’s not Mr Chief’s taste!

This isn’t fucking funny! Wouldn’t you feel insulted if it was about Lennon and I?

Liam knew he was wrong, but he hated it.

Ye know what, fuck off Y/N. Shut the fuck up, I don’t wanna hear yer fucking voice.

Nice, you won’t hear it then. But think about booking another bedroom because you’re not sleeping with me tonight!

Perfect, I’ll go to the bar!

*

The next morning, I woke up alone in the bed. Liam didn’t come back.

I called his name, but there was no answer.

Happily, as I wasn’t drinking alcohol anymore, I wasn’t shitfaced so I could go looking for him with my mind cleared.

I went into the bathroom and let out a little scream when seeing Liam asleep in the bathtub.

I shook him and he grumbled.

Come on Liam, wake up. I said dryly

Let me sleep.

Well if you want to sleep at least go to bed.

Yea yea, two minutes. I’m soz fer last night.

That’s not to me you should apologize Liam. Call Noel.

Yea yea. Tomorrow.

As you wish… I sighed

It was going to be complicated. Noel only came back two months after and their relationship would never be the same anymore.

[jmrww]

saw someone on my tl do this and it looks fun so ill do this too - my rating of how difficult it is to draw ppl i draw (or did at some point) from hardest to easiest:

jarvis cocker is so fucking difficult to draw i can never get his features right it always looks off and i dont even know why

noel gallagher. everything - his nose his eyes his hair his lips - its so difficult ugh. eyes especially.

gem archer hhhhh

i only have like two drawings of nicky wire on this account but i actually sketched him in my notes sometimes and hes hard to draw too. his smile😁 helps tho

tom meighan. at first i struggled with drawing him A LOT but now i kinda learned how to do it bc i do it so much lol. still hard tho. he had 17495 different hairstyles. his height is confusing in some pics he looks 2ft tall and in some hes almost the same height as serge. why. but, the same as with nicky - his smile helps a lot to make him look like himself

thom yorke. like, i understand how his face works but i cant quite capture it yet. i just need more practice

bonehead is easy to draw, the only thing i struggle with is that hes bald

chris edwards and ian matthews both are pretty easy to draww

liam gallagher. i learned his face, i know it better that he does, and his features are just so uhh cartoonish? so its easy. which is funny considering that noel is on the other end of this list and you would think it shouldnt be like this since theyre very similar

sergio pizzorno. bro looks like a drawing fr. look at him. hes like a character who was designed by a professional artist. its so easy to draw him. i understand aitor. i really do.

[wildxwired]

hi there :) i was wondering if you could write something post-canon about someone hitting on ian (or some sort sexual of proposition toward him) and it brings up feelings that mickey’s never dealt with about ian’s bipolar episode (mostly the cheating 💔) - i’d love to see them talking through it as a married couple with healthier ways of communicating & working through stuff as permanent partners 💛💛

Okay so I started writing this and then it went a different way of Ian dealing with those feelings and Mickey being way more understanding of Ian’s illness than I feel people (cough, the writers) ever gave him credit for. Hope this is equally as pleasing!

Carry Me Home

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Ian glances up from his menu to find a handsome face he vaguely recognises staring down at him. He tilts his head and stares for a moment, trying to place the brown eyes and high cheekbones, but he’s struggling.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” He asks politely. He’s usually pretty good with faces, only ever drawing a blank when it comes to…

“I used to work at Patsy’s, with your sister. It’s Ian, right?” Ian nods and swallows, glancing nervously at the door to the men’s room where his husband had disappeared just seconds ago.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah. Sorry, I can’t really remember your name.”

The name he doesn’t remember, but the face has come screeching back into his memory in horrifying HD detail. His breath feels thick in his throat, hands suddenly very clammy to the point where the menu falls through his fingers.

The man chuckles softly. “We never really did names, did we?”

Ian wants to be sick. Fuck. He wants to run. It’s not the guy’s fault. He never did anything wrong, he was just looking for the same thing Ian was, at the time. But now Ian feels panicked like the wound is fresh, like the mania is waiting, creeping along with the recognition of this guy’s face.

“Uhm…”

The guy chuckles softly, and Ian knows he probably doesn’t mean to sound mocking but he feels it, there’s something laying in the shadow of his mind telling him he’s being made fun of. The joke’s on him.

“Don’t worry about it. I saw you here alone and wondered…” he trails, something sparking in his eyes, dark eyebrows quirking in suggestion. “Since you’re here alone, I was wondering-”

“He ain’t alone.”

Ian’s whole body flinches like the words burn, like he’s just been caught out. The sickness rolls in his stomach, and as the guy turns to reveal Mickey glaring back at him.

“Oh!” He straightens nervously, hands fumbling together as he steps aside to let Mickey back to his seat. “My mistake. What can I get you gentlemen?”

Mickey leans back in his chair, scowl still firmly in place. He hasn’t looked at Ian once yet, and Ian just wants to leave, just wants to run in the cold until each breath burns.

“Yeah, a new fucking waiter for a start.”

He blinks and steps back, “Of course. My apologies. Yeah, I’ll just…” and then he’s gone, scuttling back off towards the kitchen. Ian stares after him, watching the silver door flap and settle long after the guy has disappeared. He doesn’t want to look back at Mickey, doesn’t want to see the sadness and disappointment at being brutally reminded of a time they’d both rather forget.

Fuck. He knows he can’t avoid it forever, so with one final gulp he turns back to his husband. Mickey’s still studying the menu, and Ian can’t tell whether or not he’s purposely avoiding his gaze.

“Mick,” he starts meekly, but when Mickey’s eyes shoot to his he immediately falls silent again. He can’t read Mickey’s expression and it’s killing him.

“Don’t look so fucking panicked, Gallagher. You look like you’re turning coal into diamonds over there.”

Ian huffs, the breaths all rushing out with relief and now he feels like he might cry instead of throwing up. Mickey looks him over again before sighing softly and lowering his menu. He reaches his hand out across the table and Ian watches, momentarily confused, before he accepts the offering and gladly presses their hands together.

“I’m so sorry,” Ian whispers, because he can’t think of anything else he wants to say right now. Mickey squeezes his hand tight.

“Ey, none of that shit, okay? Different time, man, different circumstances. Not your fault.”

“No, but—”

“Not. Your. Fault.” Mickey squeezes his hand again.

Ian takes a breath, squeezes back. “I know, but I’m still sorry.”

Mickey places another hand on top of Ian’s, trapping his hand between both of his. “I already know that, dumbass.”

Ian knows his eyes are starting to brim, and his throat is stinging from the effort it’s taking to hold the tears back because he knows if he starts he’s going for the full sob. He coughs and swallows twice in an attempt to keep himself together.

Mickey watches him with soft concern before standing and pulling Ian up with their still linked hands. “Come on, let’s go home and order in. Fuck this place. I’d rather have dinner somewhere I can eat in my underwear, anyway.”

Ian laughs, a few hot tears managing to spill over his lids. “I love you.”

Mickey smiles warmly and once again traps Ian’s hand between both of his own. “I know. ‘Love you too.”

Other prompt fills

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[unbridgeabledistances]

a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

--

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

**

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”