#Mickey has a crush on Ian

[nostalgicmania]

Now why would you keep saying "his eyes were so blue" again and again and again

Okey we get it his eyes are blue just stop itttttt

Or maybe I have a fucking problem with blue eyes because they haunts me on a daily basis

[ninoochat]

did mickey knew ian was gay before they hooked up? *cracks knuckles* alright sit down let's unpack this shit because yesterday for dinner ive had 4 snickers and im still not down from that sugar high. shutup

in 1x6 he's waiting outside kash and grab to beat up ian. why is he nervous? he beat up lip a few days ago, he beats up dudes on the regular. s1 ian isnt exactly intimidating (sorry ian). is he wary of linda because she has more balls than her husband? sure but he wouldn't be smoking and biting his nails. as a former smoker and nail biter, you don't usually do both unless you’re S T R E S S E D. he’s there alone this time. why did he call off his cousins? maybe stalking the store so much made him notice what was going on with kash *spits on the ground*. maybe he overheard when ian told mandy he was gay right outside their house in 1x3. i don't think mandy told him but she could have.

so back to 1x6. mickey cleans up (a little) and goes to the store to provoke ian. "i forgot the dip" no you didnt, you just needed an excuse to go back in because ian showed up. ian says to kash *burns sage to cleanse myself* "what, so you're just going to let him keep coming in here, and take what he wants?" uh oh actually, yes he will! oops getting sidetracked. mickey tells him "you know where i live if you have a problem". *gestures vaguely* if not gay then why everything? to me, this is textbook boy at school pulling on pigtails and running because he has a big crush. and i mean how many opportunities are there for a closeted gay kid in this neighborhood? ian is cute as a button, he's probably checked him out. "where's firecrotch?!" sir have you put much thoughts into that part of his anatomy? we know he likes redheads...

fast forward to 1x7, that scene (changed my life tbh). mickey's probably loving how fearless ian is. there's only so much grunting and physical contact he can take before he folds (ask ancient romans). he's about 16 in season 1, he's probably climbing up the walls horny and ian gave him the look™ (ian u big hoe) and yet i firmly believe he would have never made a move if he didn't know. hell no, no way! and risk having ian yell something with terry in the next room? with how terrified he is about his father?

what do you think? did he know or did he just went for it?

[mmmichyyy]

🧪 idiots guide to office crushes 🧪

a gallavich workplace au / mentions of soulmates (but not a soulmate story!) / a cat brings them together fic, written for @doshiart for @gallavich-fic-club's secret santa gift exchange 2024 🌸 hope you like it doshi!

summary: Ian has a crush on Mickey. Mickey has a crush on Ian. Are they going to do something about it? No. Are they idiots? Yes.

excerpts:

So that left him. Ian Gallagher. The middle, often forgotten sibling, with a long list of guys he had hooked up with since he was seventeen, ranging from closeted high school jocks to random hookups at Boystown to geriatric grandpas. None of which, as he learned the hard way, were his soulmate (or any kind of mate for that matter) (though anyone with eyes probably could’ve told him that) (he was young and naive and didn’t know any better, okay?).

Now he’s twenty-five, living alone in a shoebox studio apartment, working a steady but horribly boring desk job as a sales rep for office supplies, with coworkers he gets along with but kind of can’t stand to be around at the same time, and still hopeful he’s going to find the love of his life in this bleak, dreary world.

...

Mickey lives a quiet life and works a boring job to pay the bills and get by comfortably. He purposely chooses not to interact with his coworkers because what’s the point? He’s fine with the routine he’s established. He doesn’t need to be with anyone. If he wants to get off once in a while he’ll go to a club in Boystown and find the first available guy to jerk him off. It’s fine. He’s fine with it. He can’t complain. He’s single and alone, but he’s alive and that’s all he can ask for.

Until Ian fucking Gallagher came waltzing into the office one day and flipped his worldview completely upside down and sideways to all hell.

🧪 read the rest on ao3 🧪

[sluttygallavich]

Ian spits on mickeys hole and they both enjoy it 🤝

The first time it happens, it’s out of pure necessity.

They’ve just chased each other across half of South Side and up six flights of crumbling stairs, blood pumping and hearts racing. By the time they get to the mattress they have set up behind a half-collapsed wall near Ian’s makeshift training course they’re both practically out of their minds and completely desperate for it.

“Get the shit, Gallagher.”

Mickey already has his jeans pulled down to his knees and is looking back over his shoulder at him expectantly when the crushing realization hits.

Shit.

Mickey’s eyebrows furrow at Ian’s stricken expression. “The fuck, Gallagher. You didn’t come prepared?”

And no, actually, he hadn’t come prepared for Mickey to materialize in the middle of a busy street and crash his…whatever with Ned, and he sure as fuck hadn’t been planning on letting things with Ned go any further than a couple of drinks and maybe a hurried hand job if the old guy was really insistent. So no, he is in no way prepared for the situation he finds himself in now—ass naked but for his socks and rock hard, with his sorta boyfr– with Mickey’s perfect pale cheeks just begging to be spread.

He huffs, cheeks pinkening under Mickey’s accusatory stare.

“Get on your back, I’ll blow you instead.” Ian tries not to let on how disappointed he is, even as he suggests it, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Mickey makes no move to roll over. Instead, he bites at his bottom lip, considering.

“You gonna keep sticking it in that geriatric pedo?” he asks finally, voice gruff but eyes darting around, betraying his nerves.

And Ian’s first instinct is to roll his eyes and protest at that, but, well… yeah, okay.

His second instinct is to turn the question around and ask if Mickey’s going to keep sticking it in Angie Zago or whatever other neighbourhood slut is willing, but, well…

This is Mickey sort of trying, isn’t it? This is missed ya under the bleachers, and this is helping Ian train for West Point nearly every day since he’s been back, and this is the mattress that “fell off the back of a truck” after Ian complained about the concrete floor fucking up his knees. This is following him today and beating the shit out of that geriatric pedo in the middle of the street because he was jealous but couldn’t just say it.

This is Mickey staking a claim, maybe.

“No,” Ian answers, heart racing at what he thinks might be happening—what he thinks Mickey might be proposing. And he wasn’t going to ask, but as he shuffles closer on the mattress, he finds that he just needs to know. He needs to hear it too. “Are you?”

Mickey snorts, turning his head back around so Ian can no longer see his face.

“Am I gonna stick my dick in that grandpa’s wrinkly old ass? Nah man, you don’t gotta worry about that.”

Ian reaches out then, just a single hand brushing lightly at Mickey’s hip, and he realizes it’s the first time they’ve touched since rushing up here, too frantic earlier to do anything but tear at their own clothes.

“Mick…”

And he must hear something in Ian’s voice then, because when Mickey speaks again the derisiveness of a moment before is gone. He just sounds desperate again. Pleading, even.

“C’mon, Ian, just get in me.”

And it’s not exactly an answer, is it? But it’s Ian instead of Gallagher, and it’s the vulnerability he can feel rolling off Mickey in this moment, and it’s trust, really. And Ian finds that’s good enough for now.

He grips Mickey’s ass with both hands and relishes in the heavy exhale it pulls from him, almost like Mickey had been holding his breath. Like relief. And Ian feels it too. So strongly he’s almost faint with it. He spreads Mickey wide and pets at his hole with his thumb, mouth falling open as he watches it flutter and try to pull him in.

“Fuck, Mick,” he groans. He feels even more wild than he did a few minutes ago. “Still don’t have any lube though.”

Mickey’s head drops down between his shoulders as Ian presses just the tip of his thumb inside him, dry.

“Just spit on it, Gallagher, Jesus.”

And Ian feels like he’s been kicked in the back, all the air rushing out of his lungs at once.

“Are– are you sure?”

“Holy fuck, yes, yes, I’m sure,” Mickey huffs. “You need to see it in fuckin’ writing or what?”

Ian doesn’t react to that, too used to Mickey’s impatience and bluster for it to faze him anymore and still far too preoccupied with Mickey’s clenching hole and the prospect of covering it in his spit, which suddenly seems like the hottest thing he’s ever considered.

Mickey’s spit-slicked hole and Ian’s bare cock sinking into it. Fuck. He prays he lasts longer than two sad pumps.

He knees at Mickey’s legs and gets him to spread them wider, running his nails up Mickey’s back before forcing his upper body down to the mattress, leaving just Mickey’s ass sticking up in the air for Ian to do with as he pleases. He gathers as much saliva in his mouth as he can and leans closer, spreading Mickey’s cheeks again and spitting directly on his puckered rim, the sound loud and obscene in the quiet of the abandoned rubble.

“Oh fuck…” Ian whispers, immediately dragging his thumb through the warm spit and pushing into Mickey’s hole. “Oh fuck, Mick.”

Mickey just groans, pushing back against Ian’s hands, encouraging more.

Ian spits again, this time slowly pushing two fingers into Mickey’s heat, just to the first knuckles, just to see, but Mickey’s demand for more has him quickly pushing in the rest of the way, stretching and fucking him open until his hole is gaping, just a little, and fuck, what if he spit right inside of him?

He chokes off a moan at the thought and continues getting Mickey prepped, but once the idea has been raised in his mind it latches on and he can’t let it go.

Mickey’s pushing back against his fingers, three buried instead him now. “C’mon, Gallagher, while we’re still young,” he grouses, though the effect is somewhat lessened by how fucked out he sounds.

Ian reaches a hand around Mickey’s compact body and presents it palm up and slightly cupped in front of Mickey’s face.

“You too,” Ian manages to get out. “Spit.”

Mickey attempts a laugh, but now that Ian’s nailing his prostate with every other thrust of his fingers it sounds more like it’s been punched out him.

“You’re a freak, Gallagher.” But he doesn’t hesitate to do as he’s told, and now Ian’s using Mickey’s spit to slick up his own cock and shit, maybe he won’t even make it to two sad pumps.

He squeezes at the head of his cock, clear beads gathering at the tip, and Ian’s usually pretty impressive self-control immediately snaps. He pulls his fingers out of Mickey’s ass and spits directly into his empty hole. Mickey lets out a breathy “Fuck,”and it’s all somehow even hotter than Ian was just imagining.

“Ready?” he can’t help but ask, dragging his throbbing cock through the mess he’s made, his own precum only adding to the wet slick. He half expects another snarky response, and when he doesn’t get one, he knows Mickey is just as a far gone as he is.

“Yeah, ready, yes,” Mickey babbles. “Fuck yes…”

Ian keeps a steady grip on Mickey’s hip, his other hand slowly guiding himself inside, and shit it’s tight. And hot. It’s hot and tight and so, so much that Ian swears his vision darkens at the edges a little bit. He remembers then to breathe at the same time that Mickey moans—moans! Mickey never moans!—and tries to press back against him. There’s more resistance than Ian’s used to, but the feeling of being inside Mickey with nothing between them more than makes up for the lack of lube.

Ian can’t look away from where they’re connected, skin to skin. He’s practically panting like a dog, his tongue feeling parched and dry, but he gathers as much saliva as he can and spits one last time, watching it pool around where his shaft disappears into the tight ring of Mickey’s hole before pressing the rest of the way in.

“Shit, Gallagher, need you to move.”

Ian’s let himself slump forward across Mickey’s back, his forehead pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Need…a minute,” he breathes into Mickey’s skin, eyes squeezed shut. “Jesus Mick, you feel so fucking tight. Not gonna last.”

Never one to be kept waiting, Mickey starts up a slow roll of his hips. “Don’t worry, Firecrotch,” he says, rocking back and forth on Ian’s cock. “Ain’t gonna last either. Better make the next thirty seconds count.”

Ian huffs out a laugh and pushes himself up off Mickey’s back so he can piston into the older boy the way he knows he likes. His belly swoops at the way his bare cock looks drilling into Mickey, and truthfully, it’s not much more than a minute or two later when he feels that familiar tingling in his balls that lets him know he’s about to bust. And shit, he hasn’t really thought this far ahead. Should he pull out? Is Mickey going to let him—

“Oh fuck. Mick, I’m gonna– Shit, I’m–” He’s the one babbling now. He feels panicked, knowing the clock is quickly running down. Finally, he manages a complete thought. “Mickey, where should I come?”

Mickey is working his own cock furiously in his fist, his breathing labored around his moans. Ian’s never heard him be this vocal. His balls are drawing up at the sound of Mickey’s pleasure, but still Mickey hasn’t given him an answer.

“Mick, please…oh god, oh fuck…where should I–”

“Come inside me.”

“Oh god…”

Ian only hears a ringing in his ears after that. Without thinking he wraps his arms around Mickey’s torso and hauls him up so that his back is pressed firm against Ian’s chest. He holds him tight and buries his face in Mickey’s neck as his release crashes through him, lighting up every inch of his skin that’s connected to Mickey’s, that’s in Mickey.

Dimly he’s aware of Mickey crying out and shuddering around him, his head tipping back to rest against Ian’s, and he’s struck, suddenly, by the intimacy of it all—they’ve never been closer, he thinks—before they’re both pitching forward and collapsing together, Ian slipping from Mickey’s body as they come to settle next to each other on their sides.

They’re both quiet, save for their ragged breathing, as they slowly come down from their highs. Mickey’s shirt is still on, but Ian watches his back rise and fall, admires the faint freckles on his exposed shoulder, follows a bead of sweat meandering down Mickey’s neck from his hairline and has to restrain himself from licking the rivulet it leaves in its wake.

Eventually his gaze drifts lower, and despite coming harder than he ever has in his life less than two minutes ago, he’s hit with an intense wave of emotion—arousal, definitely, but something else too—that has his dick twitching and his pulse kicking right back up. It’s a mess of cum and sweat and spit, and it should be gross, maybe, but all Ian can think is that it’s them. He closes his eyes and smiles.

The first time it happens, it’s the start of something new.

[ange1sang]

kinktober d.3: gallavich + oral fixation

minors + under 18s pls do not interact ty

gallavich (ian x mickey); 2k words, smut, college au, crushes, blowjobs, oral fixation

a/n: this one's an au but i swear it's good so pls give it a chance!! <3

Mickey’s never been one to stare. He knows how to mind his own business, fuck you very much, and on top of that he doesn’t find most people all that interesting. Some of them are hot, some of them are boring, but most of them land somewhere in the middle that warrants a few glances at most before he makes a move or leaves them alone. He’s a direct person, for better or worse, and doesn’t find much fun in the whole playing footsie under the table and biting your lip at each other. If he’s into someone he’ll come out and say it, so no, he doesn’t spend much of his time staring at people. But this one ginger fuck — well, he’s an exception.

Mickey sees him for the first time in his Entrepreneurship class. This shouldn’t mean anything, really, because there are at least three hundred people crammed into the lecture hall, but the redhead is hot and sitting a row down just to Mickey’s right so that he’s got a good view of him. He’s hot enough that Mickey considers asking if he’ll be at the student bar later, but instead he finds himself watching him the whole class. In particular, he finds him watching his mouth.

The whole class, the redhead has something between his lips. At first he’s chewing gum, which he neatly folds away in a piece of scrap paper ten minutes into the lecture and replaces with the end of his pen. At first he’s just running it back and forth across his lips, almost like he’s flirting subconsciously with someone, but eventually he starts chewing on the plastic, teeth digging into little grooves already formed there. Even during the break when he’s chatting idly with the person sat next to him he runs his tongue along his bottom lip between sentences, bites at his top lip so that it’s slick with spit when he starts to speak again. Mickey’s captivated, and by the time he’s packing his notebook away he realises he didn’t learn much of anything from the lecture.

Next lecture, he looks around for the ginger head of hair and sits behind him again. He tells himself this time he’ll ask where he’s staying, find something to talk about that makes it clear he wants to hang out, but then the redhead unwraps a lollipop and all of those thoughts vanish. It’d be one thing if he just sucked on it like a normal person, but every few minutes he grabs a hold of the stick and rubs it back and forth over his lips like he’s applying gloss. Once again, an hour and forty five minutes are lost to watching this guy’s mouth. Watching how he leaves his lips shiny with sugar for a second or two before licking it away, over and over until the lollipop is gone. Even then he keeps the stick in his mouth, moving it up and down then side to side with his tongue. Mickey’s glad the pull up desk is close enough to his lap that no one can see the boner he spends all class willing away.

This happens again, and again, until Mickey feels like he’s going insane. He hasn’t mapped out anybody’s face this well, couldn’t tell you if his flatmate had any beauty marks, but he’s got the freckles on this guy’s face committed to memory. And his mouth. He has an embarrassing amount of daydreams (and real dreams) about his fucking mouth. It’s a nightmare. Every time he checks his timetable and sees Entrepreneurship his stomach does a little flip-flop of anticipation. And if Mickey’s never been one for staring, he’s definitely never been one for stomach flip-flops.

It’s the eighth lecture when he gets to class and doesn’t spot the redhead there, which unnerves him slightly because he’s always weirdly early. But whatever. The lectures aren’t mandatory and with the amount of people in the class it’d be impossible to see the same people every time. He sits down towards the back and pulls out his notebook and pen (free of teeth marks, unlike that redheaded fuck’s). It’s almost like clockwork, what happens next. As soon as the cap on his pen comes off, the seat next to his is being pushed down and— shit.

“Cool if I sit here?” the redhead asks, even though he’s already sat down, pulling out a notebook and his signature chewed up pen.

“Guess so,” Mickey mumbles, and realises far too late that he’s been staring at him. He’s gotten so used to doing it that it’s almost like second nature, but now that the guy’s sitting close enough that he can feel the warmth coming off of his arm it’s painfully obvious that he’s looking at him and his mouth.

They sit in silence until the lecture starts, at which point the redhead leans into him and speaks softly around the pen cap between his lips.

“My name’s Ian,” he whispers. Mickey glances at him and instantly feels a familiar warmth in his stomach when he twists the pen cap back and forth between his lips.

“Mickey,” he whispers back, averting his eyes before he digs himself any further into this hole.

“My friend said you were staring last lecture,” Ian goes on, voice taking on a teasing lilt that has Mickey cussing under his breath. “And the one before that, and the one before?”

He phrases it like a question, like Mickey should say something to defend himself before he jumps to conclusions. There isn’t much to say though, not when the conclusions are probably accurate, so he just shrugs.

“You’ve always got shit in your mouth, man,” he mumbles back, meeting Ian’s eyes for a split second and then looking down at where he’s sucking on his bottom lip for what he hopes is just a split second. “’S fuckin’ weird.”

“Weird?” Ian whispers, breaking off into a giggle just loud enough to make someone in the row ahead of them turn around. Mickey nods, even though he can feel warmth climbing his cheeks to the tips of his ears, watching how the other wipes the spit from his bottom lip with his thumb. “Sure it’s not ‘cause you want to put something else in my mouth?”

If Mickey hadn’t already given himself a Pavlovian reaction to this godforsaken class that sentence alone would definitely be enough to do it.

“Maybe,” he gets out without sounding too embarrassed. He looks at Ian and finds him with the end of his pen between his teeth, tongue running along the bite marks on the end of it. Paired with the knowing smile on his lips it’s enough to give him a semi. “You gonna do somethin’ about it, red?”

“Soon as class is over,” Ian says, grinning like he’s told a joke. Mickey feels like he’s been handed a sentence instead, checking the time on his phone and realising there’s an hour and a half left of class.

.

The second they’re out of the lecture hall Ian’s grinning at him all over again. Mickey chooses to ignore how his cheeks are burning in favour of rummaging around in his bag for his cigarettes.

“Don’t light anything, my place is just across the street,” Ian says, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him towards the exit. Mickey raises an eyebrow.

“You’re eager,” he comments, which makes Ian snort.

“Like you said, I’ve always got stuff in my mouth,” he replies like it’s nothing.

Ian’s place is a cramped studio, about as disorganised as any college student’s place, but Mickey doesn’t get to look around for more than a couple of seconds before Ian’s reaching for his jeans, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them without looking. His mouth is centimetres from Mickey’s, and even now he’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling at Mickey as he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers.

“Wanna sit on my bed?” he asks, even as he’s pushing Mickey’s jeans down his legs.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey shrugs. He couldn’t care less where he’s standing or sitting as long as he finally gets to feel this guy’s fucking mouth on him. He doesn’t have to worry or wait much longer because as soon as he’s siting down Ian’s got his pants around his ankles and leans forward to land an open-mouthed kiss on the head of his dick.

He doesn’t start stroking him to get him hard like Mickey half-expects him to do. Instead he runs his tongue all over him, licking up along one of the veins on the side of his length and swirling his tongue around the head, flicking it against the frenulum and moving his face down to suck on his balls. He barely uses his hands and yet he has Mickey’s dick spit-coated and hard in nearly record time.

“Feel as good as you thought it would?” he asks while he’s rubbing the slit against his lips, smearing precum across them like it’s lip gloss. Mickey’s reminded of him doing the same thing with his lollipop in the second lecture they shared and groans.

“Fuck yeah,” is all he gets out before Ian starts sucking him off in earnest and god fucking damn. All that staring did nothing to prepare Mickey for how the redhead takes him to the hilt like it’s nothing, drooling all over his dick and coming up for air with strings of spit still connecting them. Ian smiles at him with an oddly out of place schoolboy charm, and leans in to suck along the side of his cock.

His tongue is skilled, which Mickey had already figured, but the way it drags along his skin has his brain melting, first the tip tracing along every sensitive spot he can find and then pressed flat against the underside of his dick as he leans down and takes him all the way. Mickey finds himself unable to do much other than swear as Ian stays down for longer than should be possible, nose buried in his pubes as he swallows around his dick.

“Motherfucker,” Mickey grits out through clenched teeth, letting his head fall back when Ian finally comes up to breathe. Even as he catches his breath he doesn’t stop, running his lips and tongue over every inch of him until he’s covered in a thick, sticky layer of saliva. It doesn’t put Ian off either — if anything he’s more excited about lapping up all of the precum and spit on Mickey’s skin.

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum,” he demands suddenly, voice just a little rough, and it’s all Mickey can do not to laugh.

“Any fuckin’ second,” he admits, earning him a grin from the redhead before he’s bobbing his head again. He feels like heaven, Mickey thinks for a split second, and then his tongue is rubbing right against his frenulum and good fucking God. He moans embarrassingly loud and Ian seems to get the cue because he pulls up just in time to catch every spurt of cum on his tongue.

Mickey watches, captivated like he always is by Ian’s mouth, as the redhead used the head of his dick to spread cum evenly over his lips and then licks it all away and swallows.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You’re fuckin’ good at that.”

Ian shrugs, sitting back and taking a deep breath. Mickey keeps watching for a moment, notices how for the first time since he’s seen him his mouth stays totally still. No lip licking or biting, no fingertip stuck between his teeth to chew on. He’s surprised — pleasantly or otherwise, he’s not sure.

“How come you’re always putting shit in your mouth anyway?” he asks. The question instantly has Ian’s tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip.

“It’s an anxiety thing. Nervous tic or something,” he says, looking flustered for the first time. Mickey smirks.

“You stopped doing it for a minute there, y’know,” he states, and watches as his freckled cheeks turn pink.

“Yeah, well don’t get ahead of yourself, we haven’t been on a date or anything,” he says with a smile, getting up and throwing a towel in Mickey’s direction.

Mickey stifles a laugh. At least he knows what he’s asking him next lecture.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Yev's Mosquito Bite

“Dad, Ian; You guys should really go on a date sometime,” were the first words Yev said to them when he came home from school on a nice, breezy afternoon. “It’s been way too long since you’ve had some time to yourselves.” 

Ian shared a glance of amusement with his husband. Yev didn’t give two shits about them having alone time, he was usually complaining about them being too openly affectionate in front of him. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Yev dropped his backpack on the floor, only to pick it back up with a sheepish smile when Mickey shot him a look. He draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “I mean, when was the last time you guys just had a night or-” he shrugged, taking on a tone that was far from nonchalantly, “afternoon out?” 

“You know,” Ian feigned a thoughtful voice, “now that you mention it, it has been a while.” Yev nodded eagerly. “I could always take the day off sometime soon. We could stay here all day.” 

Mickey smirked when Yev deflated. He grabbed Ian by his belt loops, gently pulling him closer. “I like the way you think, Gallagher. Hit the shower with me later?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Ian grinned, widening when Yev groaned loudly. 

“God, you guys are gross.” 

“Why do you want us out of the house, Yev?” Ian got straight to the point, one hand reaching back to thread his fingers through Mickey’s hair. It was a little longer nowadays, not quite the same length when he broke out of prison but close. 

“No reason,” Yev muttered. 

“No reason?” Mickey repeated, arching his brow. “Kid, if you’re planning on drinking, you’d better do it with us here.” 

Yev rolled his eyes. “Your beer sucks ass. You can keep it.” 

“Fuck you,” Mickey said with no heat. “You got shitty taste just like your mother.” 

“Mick,” Ian nudged him. 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re gonna start defending Mother Russia now.” 

“You shouldn’t talk about her like that,” Ian said calmly, taking an onion to start chopping for dinner. 

“Eh, it’s okay,” Yev shrugged again. “She says worse about Dad.” 

This had Mickey narrowing his eyes. “The fuck does she say about me?” 

Yev just gave his father a smirk of his own, and it looked just like Mickey’s, no doubt that he was his son. 

“Stop getting off track,” Ian scolded them both. He then addressed his son. “You wanna tell us why you’re trying to get rid of us?” 

“Not really,” Yev turned to grab a soda from the fridge, giving both of his fathers a full view of the two hickies on the side of his neck. 

Mickey snickered. “I think I know why.” 

Even Ian couldn’t hide the grin that spread over his face. “Is there someone you’re not telling us about, Yev?” 

Yev had gone very still. “No,” he mumbled. 

In other circumstances, Ian would be against trying to embarrass his child, remembering from experience how uncomfortable it could be to have someone in your business like that. Whoever had given it to him was obviously his first crush and if he wanted to keep communication between all three of them open and honest, he should let it rest. 

But after all the shit Yev gave him and Mickey, this was much deserved payback. 

“Yeah?” Mickey said slyly, “that why you got a couple of hickeys?” 

Ian had never seen Yev go so red before. Completely embarrassed, he cleared his throat, ducking his head, looking like he desperately wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “I’m going to my room.” 

“Oh, no way, Little Man,” Mickey yanked him by the back of his shirt.

“You’re gonna stay here.” 

“Why?” Yev whined. “They’re not even hickeys!” 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“Oh, they ain’t, huh?” Mickey snorted. 

“They’re mosquito bites, Dad.” 

“Oh, really?” Mickey said sarcastically. He brushed a finger over the spots, making Yev flinch. “Must have got you pretty good then.” 

“Must be really biting this time of year,” Ian remarked. 

Yev’s lips pressed together. “Yeah...” 

“That’s weird because I don’t remember you having any bites this morning,” Ian continued. 

“Must have happened when I was walking back,” Yev said quickly. 

Ian felt the laughter in his chest, threatening to come out. He managed to hold himself together, nodding like he believed the shit that was coming out of his mouth.  Mickey looked seconds away from calling him out on the bullshit too, but Ian just laid a hand on his lower back, his silent way of telling him to wait. 

“You should put a warm compress on those,” Ian advised. “It’ll help with the blood flow.” 

“Okay,” Yev grabbed his backpack, still holding his soda in his hand and made a beeline for his bedroom. 

“He thinks we’re fucking stupid,” Mickey chuckled. “How long you think it’ll be before we see whoever left ‘em?” 

Ian looped an arm around his husband’s shoulders. “I don’t know. Think we should go easy on him when he introduces us?” 

“Fuck no,” Mickey said and they both laughed. 

As it turns out, they would be introduced to the girl in question a couple of days later when Yev brought her home to work on a project together. 

“This is Emily,” their son said, fidgeting slightly. “Those are my dads; Mickey and Ian.” 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Emily said politely. 

“You too,” Ian smiled warmly. 

“Yeah,” Mickey said with a nod. “So, you and the kid have a project together?” 

“Yes,” Emily said. “It’s for our history class. We’re supposed to take an event that happened and discuss the consequences of it.” 

“You can go ahead to my room,” Yev said hurriedly, probably to save himself from Ian or Mickey saying anything else. “It’s at the end of the hall. I’ll get us a drink.” 

“Okay,” Emily gave him and Mickey one last smile before going back there.  

Ian leaned against the countertop, watching Yev grab a couple cans of soda. “She’s pretty.” 

“Please don’t,” Yev cringed. 

“Ay, you like this girl?” Mickey asked. 

Yev’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“That’s a yes,” Mickey and Ian said simultaneously. 

“Can we not?” 

“I think we should have Emily stay for dinner,” Ian said to his husband. “Get to know her a little better.” 

“No!” Yev said in horror. 

“Sure. I think Lana sent over some of his baby pictures over.” 

“We have a whole album,” Ian reminded him. 

“Oh my God-” 

Mickey nodded seriously, barely keeping a straight face as is. “You remember that one year he wore a tiger costume for Halloween and refused to take it off?” 

“That was pretty damn cute,” Ian chuckled. He meant that too. Yev had gone around trying to roar at everybody to scare them for at least two weeks after Halloween ended. 

“Bet Emily would like it,” Mickey teased. 

“Dad!” Yev whisper-yelled, a mixture of disbelief and equal parts irritation. He looked at Ian for help, but he was trying to quell his laughter so he was useless. “I fucking hate you both.” 

“Ay, watch your fucking language,” Mickey hit him lightly upside the head. 

“I’m going to room,” Yev said, aiming a glare at both of them. 

He started to walk, with Ian giving his husband a wink, calling for his son to wait. 

“What?” 

“Is your window open?” Ian said. 

“Yeah...” Yev said, agitatedly. “Why?”  

Ian threw him a bottle that he caught. 

“Bug spray,” he read off the title in bewilderment. “What the hell is this for?” 

“You know, for the mosquitoes,” Ian said calmly. Him and Mickey dissolved into loud laughter after that. 

“Ugh,” Yev snapped, looking like he wanted to throw the bottle at them. “I hope your dicks stay limp.” 

He stomped to his room after that, while his fathers tried to catch their breath. 

[french-unknown]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒

✔️ : complet 🔥 : smut

[ masterlist ]

✧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐛𝐲 @𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐄 ✔️

words : 14,837 Mickey isn't who he used to be. Ian wishes he wasn't to blame.

✧ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐛𝐲 @𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐀 🔥✔️

words : 17,531 Mickey has never been an exceedingly loved individual.

✧ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐛𝐲 @𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐀 🔥✔️

words : 38,756 Ian is mugged one night in Kyiv, but the muggers, upon seeing what is in his wallet, run away. Ian doesn't know what this means. Does it have anything to do with the long-distance Ukrainian boyfriend he had as a teenager? Pen-Pal AU turned Army/Mafia AU

✧ 𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐛𝐲 @𝐋𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐙𝐀  🔥✔️

words : 12,879 It’s Halloween 2018. Ian Gallagher ripped Mickey Milkovich’s heart out of his chest 3 years ago. He hasn’t seen him since. Which is good, for Mickey. Tonight he’s going to a fucking costume party at Mandy’s new place. He’s not wearing a costume. Yippy fucking kai yay..

✧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐛𝐲 @𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋 🔥✔️

words : 9,368 Mickey has money and Ian wants to rob him? Or not? From the prompt: Ian and Mickey are together. Mickey's family is rich while Ian's family is poor, and for live he steals in the homes and in the street he steals wallets. Mickey doesn't know nothing about this and when he finds out the truth he thinks that Ian is with him for the money. What happen when they confront? I changed it a bit, cause apparently I'm not able to stick to a prompt 100%.

✧ 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐛𝐲 @𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐓 ✔️

words : 5,206 Mickey doesn't feel comfortable with Ian's "proud to be gay" friends. He agrees to come to a little gathering at Ian's house though. The thing is: Mickey, Caleb and Trevor have a crush on Ian, Ian has a crush on Mickey, everybody thinks Mickey is straight - and Lip knows all of their secrets.

[flowercrownmickey]

every reference and easter egg in how to disappear (or at least all the ones i can remember)

how many did you catch? Massive SPOILERS under the cut!!

baba yaga (Barbara Yaga, her ownership of the house ian rents is one of the few things carried over from the original wilde life au concept that i was going for in the first chapter)

i wanted to name the town in Oklahoma something weird and a little creepy but not use a real place. the thing is Oklahoma already pretty much has towns named with every weird creepy combo of words possible (seriously, go skim a map sometime, you will see some wild stuff). In the end i decided on Owl Creek because it's a real name but it's actually not one place, but the name of multiple waterways all across the state. 👍

the rainbow fuck you socks are real socks (i used a photo of them as the cover for the how to disappear playlist) that @michellemisfit sent to me as a gift, i couldnt resist using them in the story.

Glenchad's technique for haunting/traumatizing Ian is inspired by the x-files episode How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

Glen himself is based on and named after Glen McReynolds from one of my favorite movies: Everybody Wants Some!! (the little inside joke i have with myself is that Glenchad hates Ian because Glen in the movie hates pitchers, and in one of my favorite fics, Love is a Ballfield, Ian is a pitcher.) (yeah it gets pretty convoluted inside my brain lol)

the infomercial ian watches on one of the local tv stations is a real product that i found by googling for the weirdest products sold through infomercials

the channel LOCAL 58 is of course an easter egg for the analog horror series by Kris Straub (of whom im a big fan)

the title of the fic itself is also a reference to another work by Kris Straub, a book of short psychological horror stories called Ichor Falls: A Visitor's Guide

mickeyism nickname "livestrong" is of course a reference to famous cyclist Lance Armstrong

Norma's is named for Norma Jennings, a character from Twin Peaks who owns and operates the Double R Diner, a major location used in the TV series.

I was a huge Newsies fan and had a crush on half the cast of the movie as a tween. Christian Bale wasn't my personal favorite but I figured he'd be the most recognizable reference for the general audience!

mickeyism nickname "Cowboy" was the newsie-name that Christian Bale's character went by in Newsies.

Ian and his Taco Bell drop off: I searched food delivery reddits for common horror stories from delivery drivers and turns out the prank of telling a driver there is a cash tip tucked somewhere on the front porch and then watching/filming (and possibly even posting to the internet) the person searching fruitlessly for the tip is disgustingly not uncommon.

the "old-as-fuck British sitcom set in a department store" is Are Your Being Served? - a show i simply remember being on all the time on the local PBS stations back when we still had TV and would just have to watch whatever was on!

Mickey refers to Oklahoma City as "The City" which is the way many locals refer to it.

I had to include Ian getting an order for Subway as a little homage to one of my absolute favorite fics of all time: Intro to Quantum Dating by @spoonfulstar

Ian is flying down the road on his bicycle bearing a single meatlover's footlong. - this is a joke about Ian's giant penis. But he is also actually delivering a meatlover's footlong.

"John D" - is short for John Doe because of course they wouldnt register for the grubhub app with a real name.

the werewolf pack was a little bit inspired by the Hale family from Teen Wolf, the werewolves from grizzly hills in world of warcraft, and the aesthetic of the broke-ass snobby british aristocrats from The Gentlemen TV series.

"Mother Selene" referenced by the pack leader just before the werewolves transform, refers to Selene the Greek goddess of the moon. There's heaps of history from all over europe on the origins of the werewolf myth. for my werewolves i chose to go with the ancient Greeks since "lycanthropy" is a greek word and i had decided that in this universe, the greek gods were fey. Selene was a powerful fey who created lycanthropy and tied the malady to the moon, she made herself the center of a cult of worship and used her werewolves as a vicious personal army to torment and control the humans who lived in what she considered to be her domain. When Ian reaches the center of the hedge maze, the statue he climbs is a statue of Selene (ian mistakes her crescent moon crown she is usually depicted with for horns).

ian in his mind refers to the werewolves as lunatics, just a little tease as the etymology of the word is a madness caused by the moon.

i decided vampires are one of the few things in this universe that dont exist, Mickey references the myth as originating from Bram Stoker's Dracula (though he doesnt specify this), a book that one could argue is about real estate. which is both a joke but also please read this incredible post by @gardenerian because its also...not not not a joke.

as a huge fan of Two of Your Earth Minutes by @the-rat-wins, i absolutely HAD to work in a joke in which mickey calls Ian an alien

in chapter 4 the vibe i wanted to capture for Norma's was that of Merlotte's Bar and Grill from True Blood, and many of the characters are based off of or named after True Blood characters.

Eric is named after Eric Northman

Dawn and Tara and Jessica are all characters who at some point were waitresses at Merlotte's. (Though later I realized Dawn and Tara are also iconic Buffy characters, which I happily retcon as being an extra reference)

Glen being a fan of China Beach is a reference to Jenny Nicholson's incredible feature length video essay about the vampire diaries tv series

the fey named paula is named after canon ian and mickey's PO from season 10

the fey named cooper is named after agent dale cooper from twin peaks

aunt barb trades her chickens for an RV - a convoluted reference to the myth of baba yaga having a hut that can move around on giant chicken legs.

ADDING ONE THING: in chapter one Mickey implies Ian is a delinquent and in chapter four Ian calls Mickey a miscreant. this was important to me for some reason but i dont know if its a thing anyone noticed 🥲😆

okay....i think that's it?? for now anyway~ xoxo

[gallawitchxx]

hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

[onthepyre]

The six-pack clinks as Mickey walks. It's fucking annoying, if he's honest, and he'd slow down a little to get it to stop if Ian wasn't waiting for him. He is, though, and Mickey is tightly-wound and sweating in spite of the cool night air. It's been more than a week since he's seen him like this; Mickey's itching for a fix.

Ian sits in the doorway of the dugout, smoking and staring blankly out. Mickey hands over the beers, grabbing one for himself, and plucks the cigarette from Ian's mouth. He takes a drag, searching for the taste of Ian's spit within the smoke. It's hard to find, but it's there. Cigarette held between his lips, he pulls out a knife and pops the lid off the bottle, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ian does the same. Mickey waits for him to speak first.

“Been too long,” he says after a gulp of beer. He glances up at Mickey, begging for something akin to agreement

“What, you missed me? It's been, like, a week. Fuckin’ faggot.” Ian laughs, but it's dry, humorless.

“So what if I did?”

Ian looks up at the stars, but his free hand comes to his belt buckle. He undoes it like that, one-handed, staring upward instead of at Mickey. It's going to drive him insane.

“Jesus, let me at least finish my beer before you start talkin’ like that.” Mickey drops the cigarette now, crushes it under his heel. He chugs the rest of the drink while Ian leans his up against the wall of the dugout, stands, and approaches. Mickey drops the bottle on the ground and watches him. He walks slowly, intentionally, with that stupid fucking smirk on his face. Mickey has never wanted anything more in his life.

Mickey refuses to make first contact. He waits for Ian to link a finger through his belt loop and yank, knocking them together, before he braces his hands low on Ian's hips. A hand grips his hair and forces his head up, and Mickey can't keep the grin off his face.

“Yeah, I missed you,” Ian murmurs, directly into Mickey's ear. Goosebumps run along his spine.

“Get on with it, Gallagher.” He wants it to be a bark, but it comes out quieter than he means — almost pleading. He gulps, and clearly Ian hears it because he chuckles. Without his input, Mickey's fingers grip Ian's hips even tighter, and this, finally, is what gets him to shove them apart. Ian, stumbling almost backwards under the cover of the dugout, pulls off his belt and unbuttons his pants, and Mickey couldn't possibly do anything but follow him.

—

Ian's panting when they finish; he holds his position for a moment or two before shoving himself off Mickey to return to his forgotten beer. He tugs his pants back on and presses his back to the wall, sliding down it to sit on the dirt floor. Ian watches as Mickey stays put, bent over the window, trying to regulate his own breathing. He pulls his pants up but doesn't move otherwise. He wants Ian to come back.

“Maybe I missed you too,” he mumbles, unable to bite it back any longer. The shame of it burns his chest and face, but Ian can keep a secret, he knows — why not this one?

“Really?” Ian asks, incredulous. It's then that Mickey stands up and turns around, though he still keeps his eyes on the walls.

“Don't you get too fuckin’ excited, these ain't wedding vows.” Mickey reaches for another bottle and drinks about a third of it in one sip. He needs it, for the field day he's just given Ian.

“I'm not. It's just… nice to hear.” Mickey rolls his eyes, but then he finally looks directly at Ian. He's smiling from ear to ear. Yeah, right, you're not.

Mickey formulates a dozen insults, but he can't find the guts to spit any of them with the way Ian is looking at him. He sits instead, next to him but with a good few feet of space. Ian's still shirtless, and the contrast between his pale skin and the dark fabric of his jeans is definitely not driving Mickey crazy. Neither are his unreasonable pecs, or the dusting of freckles on his shoulders, and absolutely not the trail of red hair below his navel. He's struck with the urge to put his mouth to Ian's. Instead, he looks away.

Ian gets bold; this, at least, is typical despite the newness of what he does. Mickey is shocked by the sensation of something wet and hot — Ian's tongue — against his neck. He jerks away, but not too far. Ian, propped on one hand, looks up at him, a silent question.

Mickey can't help it. He nods.

Ian propels himself forward and knocks Mickey to the ground. On top of him now, Ian licks at the hollow under Mickey's ear while he clings desperately to him for some kind of stability. Mickey's gasping for air all over again, and this is a new kind of burn. With the minimal capacity of thought he has left, he wonders why they weren't doing this sooner. Ian travels lower and starts nipping at Mickey's skin.

“Don't you fuckin’ dare leave marks,” Mickey says. It comes out breathy and in a heavy stutter. The shame creeps back in, but the heat of Ian's mouth overwhelms it. Ian hums quietly and continues his work. It takes every ounce of concentration in Mickey's body not to make noise. Ian tugs the collar of his shirt to the side and hits a sensitive spot on his clavicle, and Mickey fails to suppress a whine. He doubles down, and all Mickey can do is press his bitten-down nails into Ian's back and gasp.

Ian detaches himself, and it takes mountains of self restraint for Mickey not to grab his head and put it right back where it was, or lower. But he has other ideas. Ian's got his gaze fixed on Mickey's lips, and he's leaning in. Mickey dodges.

There's hurt in Ian's eyes, though, and they're all alone, and Mickey thinks he might love him. So he takes Ian's cheeks in his hands and pulls him down.

If he's honest, Ian's breath stinks. He tastes of beer and smoke and something Mickey can't place. He's sure his own is worse, though, and none of that really matters because Ian has his tongue deep in Mickey's mouth. He kisses with a fiery urgency and Mickey can hardly keep up.

After… five minutes? An hour? Mickey has no idea how much time has passed; Ian tears his face away. He stays close enough that their noses are still touching, and he's breathing into Mickey's mouth. He feels Ian's lips move when he speaks.

“You want to go again?”

And fuck, Mickey was right, he does love him.

[mickittotheman]

We Both Know What We Know We Know... That We Know (read on Ao3)

BUNK U-UP's submission for the Gallavich Summer Camp 2024 (courtesy of @gallavich-fic-club)

After a goddamn eternity of pining, Mickey's finally done it: he's told Ian how he feels and asked him on a date. And by some fucking miracle the universe was actually on his side for once and Ian actually said yes. Except dating Ian doesn't feel all that different than being friends with Ian. And Mickey still hasn't managed to man the fuck up enough to lay one on Ian, and Ian doesn't seem all that interested in laying one on Mickey, either. And maybe the universe actually isn't on Mickey's side afterall, because when the fuck has it ever been? Ian, meanwhile, would just like to know why the hell his best friend/completely straight secret crush/ love of his life has been acting so strange all of the sudden. Has Mickey finally put the pieces together and realized Ian's feelings for him? Is Mickey sick of Ian hanging around? Has Mickey found a girlfriend? And, most importantly, will Mickey and Ian ever be able to stop being such goddamn fucking idiots?

Writing by Bee (tumblr @mickeyheartian | ao3 lostinanalternatereality) and Jay (tumblr @thegallaviches | ao3 rwrbxgallavich) Art by Mechy (tumblr @mickittotheman) Beta read by Ash (tumblr @mickeysgaymom)

Stay tuned for more chapters (and more art)!

[jasonloveheart]

Shameless ramblings

Hello! I’m Jay and I’ve been a fan of Shameless for two or so years now. I’ve recently gotten into a rough situation and decided to throw this blog and I into my special interest, Shameless!

Now, I’ve only finished the first five seasons but I spoil myself on everything I like so I already know most things! I don’t mind spoilers but if you personally mind, please tell me if you want my response to be spoiler free or not. Feel free to ask me anything but I will try posting at least once every day either way! I will be saying at least one thing about Shameless per day, today’s been about my favorite character in the entire show,

————————————————————————

Mickey Milkovich is my favorite character, not just in Shameless. This isn’t just because I have a major crush on him and his actor, though that does play a part of it lol. Mickey is such a compelling and unique character that I haven’t seen replicated, from his beginnings as an asshole teen with internalized homophobia and a fear of his father to the end of the show where he’s a happily married man who loves his husband. Mickey represents something I’ve never seen in media before, a repressed homosexual teen who is such a genuine asshole to everybody. At least, I haven’t seen it so well executed before where the character honestly changes and becomes better and gets such a happy ending as Mickey did. While Mickey is a giant dick in first few seasons, he does change for the better and shows that he wants to make right what he did wrong and change how he thought of things before. Mickey genuinely loves Ian and through almost the entire show, fights for their relationship, their love, but also doesn’t push Ian into something eh doesn’t want to, he waits for him instead of dragging him along. The fifth season, the season I just finished, shows just how much Mickey loves Ian and how he wants to take care of him and get him help, not because he pities him or thinks he has to but because he wants to. I don’t understand how anyone can hate Mickey Milkovich and I will fight for his honor until the day I die.

[hellcat1980]

What If

Ian pulls back and looks down at him as if he has seen a ghost.

The windows rattle as the train passes by.

“Where, why?”

Mickey brushes a stray curl from his forehead.

“All the questions, Dude, not right now. I missed you.”

Ian shook his head and touched their foreheads together,

“You were so mad at me for walking away, told me never again.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “We both said things, but focus, Gallagher; I need you now.”

Crushing their lips together again, all thoughts were gone.

Ian’s hand finds its home at the nape of Mickey’s neck.

______________________________________________________________

Trying the continuation thing...still no answers, but hey we have time it is very early in 2025.

@galladrabbles

[em-harlsnow]

i firmly believe there’s a time when Mickey goes back to school. probably around season 3, because the courts tell him a condition of his release and probation is to go back to school. he barely turns up, only enough so his PO isn’t on his ass.

obviously, he doesn’t want to be there. so one day he’s sort of sitting in the back of some class - something like english that he doesn’t care about at all - and just goes to sleep because it’s boring. the teacher comes over, tells him off, and he just does something like flips her off and rolls his eyes, to which he obviously gets detention.

he usually wouldn’t go to detention, but he thinks he may as well because he doesn’t rlly wanna go home.

now, ian also gets detention that day, which is unusual for him. maybe he had a very public argument with Lip, calling him some names and a teacher who really hates swearing threw him in detention.

when ian walks in, mickey’s already there, leaning back on his chair. he almost falls off when he sees ian. ian will smirk and sit on the seat in front of him, not next to him. and because mickey is like a three year old with a crush half the time, he spends his time kicking the back of ian’s chair.

there’s another boy in detention, i imagine it to be a sort of American-jock type. all arrogance and self importance. he goes up to mickey and acts like their friends or some shit just because mickey dealt at a few of his parties.

“hey bro, how’ve you been?”

now mickey doesn’t really remember him, so he just sort of scowls.

“….good”

“that’s so good, bro, so, do you have anything on you i could buy?”

mickey doesn’t, actually, because he doesn’t make a habit of bringing copious amounts of drugs into a place where he could easily get caught.

“nah.”

and then it’s over and Chad or whatever goes back to his own seat. it’s then that he sees ian, and chad has some homophobic bullshit built up in his head. also, mickey’s there and he sort of wants to impress the bad boy drug dealer who won’t give him the time of day. at this point, mandy and lip are banging, so a lot of people know ian’s gay.

he goes up to ian, assuming while mickey kicks his chair and laughs when ian turns around pissed off it’s because of the same stuff he has in mind.

he calls ian something homophobic, and ian just rolls his eyes and tells him to fuck off. Chad gets mad at the indifference and slams a hand down on the desk.

“you wanna fuckin’ quit it with that?” mickey pipes up from his seat.

“you don’t got a problem with the gays, mick?” chad says and mickey instantly looks a little lost.

ian sighs and says shit like “just fuck off, Chad, I don’t have time for your bullshit.” because he doesn’t really need or expect mickey to fight his battles for him.

chad gets mad at ian again but he’s a pussy, so doesn’t outright attack him. just slams his hand down a few more times, starts yellling. ian just can’t be bothered to give a shit, is more annoyed he got in detention in the first place.

mickey stands up, because chads getting annoyed at ian’s lack of reaction and gets in chad’s face.

he says some excuse like ‘he’s friends with my sister’ but at the end of the day he shoves chad back and away.

chad tries to make some stupid joke, like ‘we were just playing’ and mickey’s having none of it.

“go sit your ass down over there you fucking pussy and leave him alone” and chad walks away with his tail between his legs.

ian sort of beams, sort of grumbles at mickey. like he smiles, but also mutters to him that he can fight his own battles, but thanks.

mickey just shrugs even though he’s blushing a bit because that sort of shows he cares, doesn’t it? but then he goes back to kicking ian’s chair and ian goes back to getting annoyed while he tries to do some homework.

they leave together and chad leaves thoroughly dejected. they go to the dugouts and ian keeps grinning at mickey and mickey keeps rolling his eyes at him and its just a bit sweet.

[blue-disco-lights]

✨ weekly tag wednesday ✨

I love this week's theme since i get to talk about this fandom and all of you 💕 thank you @jrooc @lingy910y @creepkinginc @energievie @doshiart

@suzy-queued @mybrainismelted @deedala for the tag! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

how did you get into the fandom? I learned about gallavich in a subreddit, where i hung out for a while until it started to get real toxic (too much mickey and debbie critique in there for me!). from there, i wandered to twitter, met some lovely people and that led me here to tumblr!

how long have you been here? since December 2021

what's the first fandom channel you found? (youtube, reddit, tumblr, insta, twitter, FB, other?) well as i have massive fomo, i’ll see you on most of them. but reddit was first.   

what's your favourite now? tumblr and discord

which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom? i think it’s @silvanshadow and @samantitheos from twitter! I was verrry shy to interact at all but you were both friendly and fun to talk to :)

which tumblerinos did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and wanted to get to know? the two above, but also @palepinkgoat @notherenewjersey @ms-moonlight-inn @gallawitchxx (blush but also HI 🩵)

first gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember)? 

Conflict of Interest by @vitalspark (is incredible) and was the first story i  left a comment on back in December ‘21 and that just started it all. 

That and You Deserve Good Things by @chat-noir12 and Like Real People Do by @gallavichy were the first I bookmarked - i remember reading those stories and just sitting in shock about how GOOOD these stories were. It was just unbelievable to me at the time. Thinking how did I go through covid times without them and generally, my whole adult life without fan fic??

first fan art that blew your mind? This is such a tough one there are SO many - but probably something by @steorie (here) @filorux (here) @psychicskulldamage (here)  

And here's a favorite from @doodlevich (here)

fanfic trope that you were sure wasn't for you but now you low key (or high key) love? never thought much about fake dating tropes, but there some great stories with that one what surprised you most about this fandom? this fandom IS SO kind, friendly and open. And the TALENT. I still can’t really believe what you all create - here’s a masterpiece I made at home on a Tuesday night, a free gift, please enjoy. you're all amazing 🤩

moment in the show (or YT vids if you're one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with gallavich? “Don’t” - definitely. my showtime app has never had that much rewind and playback action. 

ian or mickey? oh but that’s a hard one. gotta be Mickey - i dont remember ever connecting with a TV character like this. the sass, the one-liners, the development, the facial expressions.  I could go on, but you all know. 

which gallagher or milkovich are you? maybe Sandy? I admire her for being a cool cucumber who just happens to land in the messiest, most chaotic family and seems to really enjoy having a front row seat!

tagging everyone up ⬆️ there if you'd like and would love to hear all of your stories friends: @sweetbee78 @ian-galagher @transmurderbug @spookygingerr

@solitarycreaturesthey @sgtmickeyslaughter @mmmichyyy @too-schoolforcool

@transsexual-dandelions @sleepyfacetoughguy @rereadanon @heymrspatel @michellemisfit

@darlingian @thepupperino @vintagelacerosette @mickeysgaymom @krysmiss

@callivich @sickness-health-all-that-shit @gillyp @bawlbrayker @crossmydna

@jessieoneday @em-harlsnow @reganmian @heymacy @gallavichsuperfan

@depressedstressedlemonzest @gallapiech @spacerockwriting @wehangout @burninface