#gallavich fluff

[ange1sang]

going under

gallavich/ian x mickey, word count: ~996

summary: the first time mickey tells ian he loves him. ; canon compliant, set seasons 4-5, hurt/comfort, fluff, crying, sex

a/n: here's my contribution for mickey's birthday !!! a day late but i just moved yesterday and fell asleep trying to finish it so </3 here it is !!

Mickey's drowning in Ian. He isn't sure how but he knows he is, every last sense overwhelmed by the redhead above him.

The smell of his skin - soft, clean - and the smell of his cologne - strong, overly masculine - clings to his nostrils. The taste of his spit and sweat, spread over his lips like a thick layer of cheap chapstick. His skin is so hot beneath his palms it feels like he's pressed his hands to a stovetop. His voice buzzes in his ears, every breathy moan and groan and bit back curse word like a shot of adrenaline. And when he focuses his eyes on the face above him, it's like a too-hard hit to the head, the kind that has him thinking he's seeing God.

Ian's beautiful. He'd been gone for so long Mickey'd almost forgotten what it was like getting to see his face. Getting to see his freckles, count every little patch of them like stars in the sky. Getting to grab the back of his neck and pull him close enough that they're breathing the air straight out of each other's lungs.

It reminds Mickey of his very first nicotine high. Veins thrumming, stomach tingling, fingertips trembling. His bottom lip shakes, hands scrambling for purchase. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to shut out the dizzying feeling in the back of his head. His hands land on Ian's shoulders, nails digging into the freckles scattered across Ian's right shoulder, leaving behind little red marks that Mickey wishes would stay there forever.

"Gonna cum?" Ian asks, and he asks like he's teasing, but the strain in his voice gives him away. He's probably closer than than Mickey is. If this were a year ago, or even months ago, Mickey would've teased right back, would've poked fun and called Ian one of the dumb nicknames he seems to love so much. But right now his voice ties itself into knots, catches in his chest.

Ian leans down, kisses along his jaw. Open-mouthed and gentle, nudging his nose into Mickey's cheek like he's committing his scent to memory. Ian buries himself deep inside him, rocks his hips and presses as deep into Mickey as he can get. He's groaning through gritted teeth and Mickey could live off of that sound, could spend the rest of his life drowning in it like he's doing right now.

"Gonna cum, Mick," Ian murmurs into his cheek and his voice is so gentle that it rocks Mickey's world. "Want me to jerk you off?"

Mickey tries to nod, tries to do anything less embarrassing than what he can feel his body trying to do. It doesn't work. Ian reaches down between them, and a sob tears itself from Mickey's throat.

"Mick?" Ian asks, pulling back from his cheek to look him in the eyes. Concern shines through when their eyes meet, and it makes Mickey's heart squeeze in his chest. Because Ian's been so absent since he came back, eyes always half-lidded or open too wide, always focused on someone else or not focused at all. He's been so out of it, so drugged up and so fucked out that Mickey isn't sure a single one of his words has gotten through to Ian since he's been back. Ian pauses where he's pressed into Mickey, stops his movements in the middle of cumming even though his arms start to shake where they're holding him up. "Mickey?"

And as much as he'd rather drown, Mickey has to come up for air before he's totally smothered by Ian.

"I love you," he says, voice barely reaching a whisper. Hot, fat tears roll down his temples, and he crosses his arms over his face so Ian won't see them. His chest heaves even as he swallows back another sob. "You asshole. I love you. I thought you weren't coming back."

Ian stays quiet, but his body melts against Mickey, hands sliding down his sides and pulling him into a sweaty, sticky, uncomfortable hug. It's the sweetest way anyone's ever touched Mickey. He cries shallowly, and in doing so breathes in another mouthful of Ian's scent.

"I came back," Ian whispers, and it's all Mickey can do not to smack him upside the head. He settles for punching his shoulder weakly.

"Fuck you," he mutters. Ian's lips press to his temple and turn up to form a small smile as he kisses him there. It reminds Mickey of the smile he gave him when he visited him in juvie for the first time. His heart squeezes so hard in his chest it hurts.

"I love you too," Ian says, lips moving against Mickey's skin. He moves his head just enough to kiss his ear and then the trail of tears on the side of his face. "I love you too."

It sounds so easy when Ian says it, nothing like how the words tore themselves from Mickey seconds ago. It sounds like he was meant to say it. Mickey uncovers his eyes and Ian pulls back to look at him, to really look at him, for the first time since he's been back. He smiles, soft and sweet and freckly and dorky like Ian's been since the first time Mickey saw him, and the clenching in Mickey's chest lets up a little.

"Stay, then," Mickey mumbles, and it sounds pathetic. It's weak. It's like he's pleading. It's the gayest thing he's ever said. He can't find it in him to feel embarrassed or ashamed like he expects to feel.

"Okay," Ian replies, once again like it's the easiest thing he's ever said. He leans in to kiss him and it's like being able to breathe underwater. Mickey breathes him in, runs his fingers through his hair, swallows as much as he can get.

"I love you," he says right into Ian's mouth. It isn't easy this time either but it hurts less. He hopes one day it won't hurt at all.

[carnivorous-krowe]

"Keep Me Safe, Keep Me Warm"

Repost from my AO3

Ian had been through more than his fair share of trauma, and Mickey knew that better than anyone. So naturally, Mickey's protective instincts were always on high alert when it came to his boyfriend...

One evening, they decided to go out for a drink at a new dive bar. It was a quiet night until a group of rowdy patrons started causing trouble. Ian accidentally bumped into one of them, a burly guy with a short temper.

“Watch where you’re going, fuck-face” the drunk man coughed out, getting up in Ian’s face so close he could smell the liquor on his breath.

Mickey's eyes flashed with rage as he stepped between Ian and the aggressive stranger.

"You got a problem?" Mickey growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The guy sneered at Mickey but backed off, not wanting to mess with the Milkovichs. Mickey's reputation was well-known, and most folks knew better than to cross him.

Ian watched in awe as Mickey's protective side took over. He couldn't help but feel a warm sense of security knowing that Mickey was here to keep him safe.

“Thanks.” Ian said softly once they got seated in a booth towards the back.

“For what?” Mickey snorts, Ian’s never ending gratitude still being a hard adjustment for him after all this time.

“For protecting me.”

“Ian,” Mickey sighs, shaking his head, “you don’t need to thank me for that- it’s part of my job description.”

Ian grins widely, reaching his hand across the table to hold Mickey’s. Suddenly, Mickey’s focus is taken off Ian as he stares across the other side of the bar. Before Ian can even turn around to see what he was staring at, Mickey was already letting go of his hand, kissing it tenderly.

“I’ll be right back.” Mickey says, and with that he makes his way out of the booth and across the bar to the guy who’s been staring Ian down, “You need to learn to keep your eyes off other people’s husbands, you got that?”

“Whatever you say, Princess. Just shut up and let me enjoy the view.” he scoffs, taking a gulp of his beer before turning back to look at Ian.

“You know what?” Mickey chuckles to himself as he feels his blood begin to boil, “Go fuck yourself” he says, snatching the beer bottle from the guys hand and smashing it over his head.

A few gasps from less well-seasoned patrons later and the guy was out on the floor cold, blood pouring from his nose.

“We should probably go.” Ian says, appearing behind him.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

As they walked home, Ian couldn't resist teasing Mickey a little. "You know, Mick, you don't have to beat up every jerk who looks at me the wrong way."

Mickey huffed, his protective anger still simmering beneath the surface. "I thought you liked that about me?”

“I do, but we’re running out of bars to go to where you haven’t beat someone up.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault they can’t keep their eyes off a married man. They better learn some fucking respect. I can't stand seeing anyone think they have a chance of fucking you. You’re way out of everyone’s league, and I don’t mind reminding those idiots of that fact even if it means knocking some sense into 'em."

Ian grinned like a dork, “I know you do it because you care, Mickey. And it makes me feel safer than I've ever felt in my life."

Mickey softened, wrapping an arm around Ian's shoulder. "You're my everything, Ian. I'll always protect you, no matter what."

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

GallaSnippet

Enjoy this that has been in my head since last week.

Mickey was reluctantly walking around Whole Foods with Ian. He was getting more used to their apartment on the West Side as well as the weird adventures his husband liked to go on.

This was one of them.

Staring at organic fucking fruit at Whole Foods.

He had found a few things he liked on the West Side, like the pool at the apartment wasn't terrible, they had a rage room that he went to with Tami once after Lip pissed her off. Minus the fact that he didn't used to have to pay to destroy a car, it was pretty fun, and less dangerous for getting glass shards in his eyes.

And he wasn't complaining about the MMA gym that Ian had taken him to once. He liked the MMA fight style, liked watching Ian box, and it made him want to dig out his nunchucks next time he went there.

But staring at the organic fucking fruit at Whole Foods.

"C'mon Ian, Debbie is dropping Franny off at our apartment in like twenty minutes, and we still have a sexcapade mess to clean up." Mickey groused leaning on the cart handle and pushing it back and forth while Ian looked at a rainbow of red apples.

"You're the one who wanted to use the swing today." Ian murmured undeterred as he picked up a pinkish apple.

"Fuck off. And just pick an apple! They're all just apples." He mutter back.

Ian gave him a little wave of his hand as he brought the pinkish apple up to his nose and sniffed it. Then grabbed a more orangey apple and sniffed that one.

Mickey groaned.

He heard a familiar tune start on the radio and he grinned.

Ian didn't seem to notice the song, too busy occupied with apples.

Mickey rolled his eyes and listened, remembering when Ian surprised him at the bar when they were planning the wedding with the guitarist.

He got an idea and he looked at Ian, making sure he was still occupied with apple sniffing as he quick stepped to the next aisle.

Ian sniffed the gala apple again and then the primrose, there was a distinct difference in smell, the primrose was more sharp and the gala was more sweet. He was trying to decide which apples to get to make a pie with Mickey later. But Mickey didn't want to seem to help him choose.

He heard Bon Jovi over the radio and he smiled, having good memories resurface of their wedding, and the planning of their wedding.

"They said we gotta hold on to what we got." He sang softly under his breath, wondering if Mickey heard the song too.

"It doesn't make a difference if we like it or not." He head his husband behind him sing along.

Ian smiled, placing the primrose apple back and grabbing a couple more gala apples as he sang, "We've got each other, and that's enough for love."

"Ohhh, we're halfway there." Mickey's voice chimed with his as he turned to place the apples in the cart.

"Ooooh! Lemon and and Pear!" Mickey sang as he tossed fruit to his husband, who dropped the armload of apples into the cart to catch the offending fruits flying his way.

"The fuck Mickey?!" He snapped.

Mickey's teasing smile made Ian raise an eyebrow before looking at what he was holding.

In one hand he was holding a bright yellow lemon, and the other a green pear.

"Don't get mad at me for finally getting interested in the fruit here." Mickey warned as Ian came closer to him, still holding each fruit.

"Shut up, and take my hand." Ian demanded, dropping the fruits into the cart and cupping the side of Mickey's face in his hand.

"And we'll make it I swear." Mickey finished the line as their lips crashed together.

Mickey could see himself liking their trips to Whole Foods now.

[spicycinnabun]

“Again with the moon? What’s wrong with it?”

“I just don’t like it!” Mickey said, waving his hands at the window where said moon glared at him from the sky. “It glows too much! Directly in my eyes! I can’t fuckin’ sleep!”

“Okay…” Ian replied slowly. Too slowly. Mickey wasn’t being dramatic and unreasonable. He wasn’t. “Let’s switch places.”

Mickey sniffed, nose twitching. “Why would we fuckin’ do that?”

These were their unspoken spots on the bed. Mickey was always near the window, and Ian was near the door.

“Just do it, Mick. And scoot your pillow down a little. Trust me.”

They swapped spots. Mickey’s head hit the pillow further down the bed, and Ian turned on his side. His chest and shoulder obstructed the window from Mickey’s view.

“Oh,” he said quietly. And then, even more quietly, “Thanks.”

Ian rested his hand atop Mickey’s stomach, rubbing it and smiling softly. “We’ll shop for blinds tomorrow.”

[cloudy-em]

Hi, that's me again😅

So... my other idea for Lip is: (again with relatively shy reader, because I love the thrope a lot) the reader and Lip are already in a relationship, one day someone teases her a little too much on the sexual theme (they haven't had sex yet so she's a bit insecure about it) he notices, he defends her, and once they're alone he starts to joke around, teases her in a sweet way, to make her feel more comfortable to talk about it. (She is not a virgin, she's just not that experienced)

Hope you like this one, if not. It's okay, I promise😂

another great idea! <3

personally i don't celebrate thanksgiving but i remember an episode from one of the earlier seasons of them doing a thanksgiving meal which is very convenient for this so it's loosely based on that

warnings: sexual comments, innuendos, Mickey's kinda being an ass but his comments aren't ill-intended

xxxxxxxxxx

The Gallagher household was bustling with activity. Fiona and V were in the kitchen, finishing up some last minute food preparations while Kevin was entertaining Carl and some of his friends in the yard with games. Ian was fixing drinks for everyone, desperately trying to find Debbie to figure out what she wanted (she was in her room, Mandy braiding her hair for her so she could impress Little Hank). Lip was finishing up a project for some sophomore who'd offered to pay him $100, and Liam was sitting patiently in his high chair. Y/N did her best to help out by setting the table, ensuring there were enough chairs and that everyone had all the proper utensils.

Mickey walked in the front door, beer in hand and flopped down, watching as Y/N reached across to the other side of the table to put a fork next to the plate. Mickey whistled like a boy in a 60s tv show.

"Damn, I bet you're used to that position," he quipped, taking another swig or his beer. Y/N looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows.

Mickey shrugged. "You know, cause I'm sure Philip bends you over pretty often." Y/N realized his implications, blushing and looking away. Mickey laughed, much more comfortable on the subject of sex than she was. "I'm sure Fiona's had to schedule time out of the house with the rest of the kids just to give you two some 'alone time'!"

Y/N grew increasingly uncomfortable. She wasn't a virgin or a puritan, but she and Lip hadn't had sex yet. They hadn't had a conversation about it or anything, but she wanted to wait a while and Lip had never brought it up with her.

Mickey laughed, "Look, kid, don't have to hide anything, we've all walked in on Lip with one of his hookups before." He paused for dramatic effect.

"Besides, it's always the shy one's who are the kinkiest!"

Y/N looked away, trying not to pay him any more mind and focus on her task. Lip walked down the stairs having finished with the sophomore's project, and immediately noticed something was off. His girlfriend was shy, sure, but she never bowed her head as low as she had.

"Hey, Lip!" Mickey called, teasing. Lip looked at him, eyebrows raised in expectation. "Maybe you should go out back and have quickie with your girl, get 'er to stop bein' such a priss." Lip realized what was wrong, walking over to his blushing girlfriend and placing his arm around her waist.

"Fuck off," Lip sighed. "Y/N isn't a priss, she just doesn't think the whole world needs to know about her sex life like you and Ian seem to."

Mickey raised his arms in surrender, "'Kay, fuck, Gallagher, it was all teasing, no harm meant!" He got up from his seat and went to the kitchen, presumably to grab another beer.

"C'mon, baby," Lip said softly, squeezing Y/N's waist and guiding her up to his room. He sat with her on the edge of Ian's bed, holding her hand and rubbing his calloused thumb on the back of it.

"I'm sorry he was messin' with you, baby," he whispered. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Anything I can do for you?" He emphasized his apology by pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

"No, just," she paused, thinking about how she wanted to phrase her next sentence. "Do you ever, I don't know, feel like I'm holding you back?"

Lip had a puzzled look on his face. "Whatd'ya mean, hon?"

"Well with like, you know," she sighed, pulling her hand away from Lip to hide her face. "We haven't had sex and I feel like that's my fault." She heard him chuckle quietly, her embarrassment seeping into her soul even more.

"Baby," he cooed, wrapping his arms around her in a hug as she continued to hide her face. "It's nobody's fault. We haven't talked about it yet! That's the most important part of any relationship, and that's taken me a while to learn. I figured you'd bring it up when you were ready. I didn't want you to feel pressured."

She looked up at him, eyes wide and glazed over, on the verge of tears because of her embarrassment. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," he nodded like he had given an order to the universe.

"I thought that maybe you weren't attracted to me or that you thought I wasn't good enough," she whispered.

"Me? Not attracted to you? Aw babe!" he laughed, nose touching hers in a loving exchange. "A pretty thing like you deserves to be worshipped. When we have sex, I'm takin' my time with you."

She giggled at his compliment, rolling her eyes in disbelief.

"Oh, what you don't believe me? I've wanted to sleep with pretty girl forever, I just wanted to make sure she's ready for me," he smiled at her. The more he complimented her, easing in sex references, the more comfortable she felt on the subject. He had waited for her! He didn't think she was a prude or anything, he just had respect for her; he cared for her. She felt warmth in her chest as she processed the conversation. Lip kissed her nose briefly, helping her stand up from the bed.

"And try not to let Mickey get you down. He's just like that and assumes everyone else is comfortable talking about their sex life the way he does. I'll warn him to dial it down when he's around you, though," Lip told her, looking into her eyes to make sure she knew he was serious.

"Thanks, Lip. I love you," she told him, hugging him again.

"I love you, too, Y/N. Now, we'll talk more about us and our boundaries and moving forward later," he told her, trying to help her be more comfortable discussing sex with him. "But right now I think we've got a dinner to be at."

xxxxxx

thanks for reading! sorry about me projecting a lil bit in lip and reader's conversation lol, i just think it's really important to have these conversations with your partners and i think lip, despite being all tough and "not sappy" (but he totally is) really cares about discussing boundaries with his partner

have a great day!

[lupeloto]

wallet headcanon ficlet

so i wrote a fic about mickey finding out ian keeps a picture of him in his wallet (the exact picture attached)

— — —

It was their Tuesday night tradition of lounging on the couch with their legs intertwined and watching whatever shitty reality shows that TLC was airing. They had an addiction yet complete disdain towards any about rich people doing stupid shit or rich people complaining. It makes them absolutely irate but unable to tear their eyes away through very vocal commentary regarding the stupidity of it all. The sun was settling down, peeking just above the horizon and casting a warm yellow across their living room…and a glare on the TV that Ian gets to hear about until it settles.

“Oh the fuckin-” Mickey grumbles, shuffling around in an attempt to block it from his sight, “swear to god this shit wasn’t this bright on the southside.”

Ian sighs, shooting Mickey a glare and preparing to express his irritation but instead melted at the sight of warm light on his face, illuminating his freckles and his sour expression. His chest fluttered, rendering him entirely unable to say a crossword, instead finding himself unable to look away.

“Jesus christ, Gallagher, you wanna take a picture, keep it in your pocket,” a now settled Mickey smirks, “it’ll last longer,” he shoots Ian a quick glance before turning his attention back to the tv.

“Already done,” Ian says casually with enchanted eyes.

Mickey grins, keeping his gaze forward, “Yeah sure,” he scuffs, taking a swig of his beer.

Ian turns, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“What, ya saying you keep a picture of me in your wallet, Gallagher?” Mickey mocks, demeanor like he wouldn’t believe it for a second.

Ian smirks, tackling on top of Mickey, their hungry eyes locking, “Calling me a liar?” Ian reaches into his back pocket, whipping out his wallet and the polaroid of Mickey to go along with it. He looks at him himself, heart filled with a familiar warmth that manages to ground him whenever he needs, before whipping it around to Mickey with a proud expression.

It’s one of Ian’s favorite pictures of Mickey. It was taken on this polaroid that Debbie and Sandy got, Mickey leaning against the dresser in her room. The moment Debie showed it to him, he immediately snatched it for himself, gawking over his husband for the next five minutes as Debbie and Sandy pretended to listen.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey fails to mask the massive grin that tugs at his mouth, “This is the gayest shit you’ve ever done, and that’s sayin a lot.”

“Whatever, man. I like what I like,” Ian shrugs, still straddling him, “Like having you with me.”

“And you couldnt just use your phone like a normal fucking person ,” Mickey scratches the top of Ian’s head, giving him a couple squeezes. He teases, pretending his heart didn’t skip a beat and his entire being hadn’t melted at the thought of the gesture.

“Guess not,” he shrugs, placing a soft kiss on his neck, “like showing you off when I can,” another peck.

Mickey leans into the kiss, head tilting back, “Jesus you’re one sappy motherfucker.”

“Mhm, love you too,” Ian says through bated breaths, preparing to drag his husband straight to the bedroom. He plucks the picture from its place on Mickey’s chest, poppin back into its rightful pocket in his wallet before practically yanking Mickey into the other room, their bodies pressed close together, stealing a kiss with every step.

Ian grips the back of his head with a vigor, clumps of black hair tangled in his freckled hand. Mickey returns the gesture, taking a handful of Ian’s bicep with him as they stumble into the bedroom.

The sun has completely set, the stars particularly illuminate on this night, as if they were begging for the attention of anyone who’s eye caught them… but just a mere blurred background to Mickey. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from much more compelling constellation of freckles scattered across the face of the red-head that lies opposite him on the bed. His eyes are shut, meaning Mickey has complete access to every inch of his face, even the light dusting across his eyelids. His finger traces his exposed arm lightly, “Must think i’m real handsome,” he whispers, “keepin a picture of me like that all the time.”

“Says the one who hasn’t stopped staring for the last ten minutes,” Ian smirks, blinking his eyes open to catch Mickey’s gaze. They hold a softness that melts Mickey the moment they make contact, sending a familiar warmth throughout his body. He scoots in closer.

“I like what I like,” his go soft too, “don't make me a bitch.”

“Well,” Ian leans in, “Kinda makes you my bitch.”

“Watch it, Gallagher.”

They continue like that for a while, whispering sweet nothings between small laughter, the stars still shine brighter than ever, seeking attention behind the boy that somehow shines brighter. Mickey never looks away.

[rainbowsndshitig]

Micky and Ian (shameless, US): Do you think we're together in every other universe? (Fluff drabble)

Quick a/n #1, idk if this makes sense or if anyone has done this in writing, but I was making my list of things I wanted to write and this just couldn't wait! I thought it was too cute <3

#2, I'm sorry if its really short, I'm just getting back into writing again

Ian rolled over in bed, tapping his husband on the shoulder groggily "mickey..?"

Mickey half shot up before realizing it was just Ian and relaxing "What? What? What is it?" He said, sighing.

"Do you think we're together in every other universe?"

"What."

Ian nodded sleepily, his eyes closed "...yeah"

"You're out of you're fuckin' mind babe, go back to sleep. It's like two in the mornin'." Mickey ran a hand over his face and smiled at the absurdity of his husband.

"No, no like...uh...clown fishhh and umm.. The sea anememee's... They sting everything else but the- the clown fish..."

"You mean sea anemone?"

"Yeah! Yeah..." Ian nodded slowly.

Mickey was almost fully awake now, trying desperately to hold back his laughter.

"Heyy" his husband whined "don't laugh at me"

"This is ridiculous, you woke me up for this but I can't even laugh at you?"

"....we could be like the one um one shark and that one fish that sticks to it and... Cleans it and the uhhh shark keeps it...safe!"

"You like your sea animals don't you, fireball?" Mickey leaned over and kissed Ian on the Forehead and got up out of bed almost walking away right before Ian grabbed his hand gently, stopping him.

"I love you."

"What, suddenly all sentimental? I'll be back I just have to piss..." Mickey smiled as he leaned to kiss the back of Ian's hand. "I love you too. Go back to sleep before you turn into an asshole to deal with tomorrow mornin'."

[avalonia320]

First time doing a @galladrabbles prompt; thanks to @atthedugouts for the prompt 'You Were Meant for Me' song by Jewel. <3 I love Jewel but all I kept hearing in my head was Taylor Swift whether I wanted to or not so here we are.

Mickey exited the bathroom to the sound of the karaoke machine & jeers from the crowd as some drunken idiot vocalized like a dying dog howling his last will and testament.

“Why can’t you seeeee EEEEEE….you belong with MEEEEE!”

Wait a second. That was HIS drunken idiot.

Sure enough, Ian was swaying next to the monitor.

“Ian!” Mickey grabbed his leg to get his attention. “Wrong song, dumbass!!” He pointed at the screen. “It’s Jewel, not Taylor. You were meant for me!”

Ian blinked down at him, lips curling into a smile. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I am.”

[sluttygallavich]

Galladrabbles: cuddles

This week's @galladrabbles is based on the prompt "cuddles" from @flamingbluepanda.

_________________________

“If we’re doing this, we ain’t fuckin’ cuddling after or any-a that gay shit.”

Mickey’s an omega, but he’s no fucking pussy, and Ian needs to get that through his thick skull.

Ian shoves him up against the closed door and crowds in close. For one wild moment, Mickey thinks he’s going to kiss him, but Ian just presses their hips together and noses behind his ear, inhaling deeply.

“Fine, no cuddling. You’re just gonna come on my knot and keep it inside you till we’re ready to go again.”

And well, fuck. Mickey can get on board with that.

[ange1sang]

thinking about mickey who grew up in the horrors of the milkovich house looking at people who plant flowers in their gardens with disdain. they all live in the same shitty south side blocks, why plant flowers that will bloom for just a week or two and then go back to being sad-looking patches of dirt covered in withering, colourless petals? he thinks they're ridiculous for dedicating so much time to something so fleeting that could easily get pissed on by a neighbourhood dog or trampled by rowdy kids. he rolls his eyes at the makeshift gardens, convinced he'll never understand.

it's years later, and ian is struggling to get on his feet after a whirlwind moodswing. he's spent days and nights unmoving in bed, covers pulled tight around his freckled shoulders and green eyes dull no matter how the light hits them. mickey brings him coffee every morning even if the mug remains untouched, kisses ian's cheek and strokes a worried thumb against his temple each time he has to leave him. in the evenings he tells ian about his day, unsure if any of the information is even reaching ian at the bottom of the rut he's stuck in. as much as the whole process feels like pulling teeth, mickey persists, and folds himself around ian when he goes to sleep, nose nudging against the back of his neck as he prays tomorrow will be brighter.

eventually a brighter tomorrow does come. mickey comes home from a job and finds ian sitting on the couch, absently watching daytime television and holding the mug of coffee mickey brought him in the morning between his thighs. he looks up when he hears mickey walk into the living room - slowly, but he looks up all the same. the smile he gives mickey is small, tentative and apologetic. it's the best thing mickey has seen in weeks.

"hey mick," ian says, voice soft and croaky, and mickey can't help but grin.

"hey mister," he whispers, leaning down to kiss the top of ian's head and ruffle the red hair he's grown to love so much. "missed ya."

they spend the afternoon shoulder to shoulder on the couch, watching mindless television while mickey traces shapes against ian's thigh with his fingertips.

mickey realizes then that even if ian's smiles and joy were fleeting, even if their warmth only came around for a week once a year, he'd never stop putting in the effort to keep his boy afloat. ian's eyes, prettier and more vibrant than any flower petal mickey has ever seen, would be worth any blood, sweat or tears shed over them. no matter how long his next low spell lasted, mickey would take care of him and get him the help he needed, regardless of how difficult it might be.

he presses a kiss to a little constellation of freckles on ian's cheekbone and wraps an arm around his shoulders. after years of disdain, he thinks he understands the flower beds a little better now.

[starry-nights-17]

Just wanted to say Happy Christmas to you all and leave this here. A short festive story, set in the canon world but sort of AU (in that Ian is living with Clayton).

*Mickey breaks into the wrong house....but maybe it was the right house after all 🤔

(Some derogatory language ahead, not mine, all Mickey!)

----

Christmas was just around the corner, meaning Terry was working them harder than normal. And by work, he meant stealing. Breaking and entering.

Mickey was the perfect burglar. Quick, quiet and small enough to squeeze through tight windows. Tonight's target, a fancy West Side house, which featured a large expensive looking tree in the front room. At the base of it, was a pile of exquisitely wrapped presents. Jackpot.

Mickey jimmied open a window at the back of the house, expertly so, given the practice he had. He crept into the connecting living room, eyes darting around and ears on high alert.

Confident that the house was vacant, considering the car that was usually parked out front was gone, he started tossing the packages into a large holdall he brought with him.

"Mickey, what the fuck"

His blue eyes blinked into the darkness, until he eventually made out a shape and spotted familiar red hair and freckles. The Gallagher kid had moved away a year back. His sister Mandy had whined about missing her BFF for weeks, droning on about how he discovered his mom's affair and that the man who raised him wasn't his real dad.

He made a run for it but the kid grabbed his arm, "I can't let you take it Mickey, not all of it anyway".

His voice was soft, those green eyes even softer, an understanding there. Gallagher picked out a few packages and held them out to him.

"Your dad's an asshole".

Mickey felt his eyebrow pull up and his face scrunch up in confusion, "What's it to you, carrot top?"

Ian, that was the kids name, chuckled and took a step back, his face lit up in amusement.

"Just know what he's like, what will happen if you return empty handed. Just take them, I can replace them tomorrow".

"This a trick, you gonna call the cops on me or something?"

"Course not, South Siders don't snitch".

Mickey gestured around and caught Ian's eye, "in case you haven't noticed freckles, we ain't in the South Side".

"Whatever, I'm still fucking South Side Mickey and more than that; I'm still a Gallagher".

Mickey nodded slowly, feeling the kid was being genuine. "Well now I really can't take this shit", he sighed and dropped his bag, "fucking tainted or whatever".

Ian laughed again, a sweet and bright sort of sound that had Mickey's lips curving up at the corners. He didn't know why he was still standing there, hovering, loitering. And at the scene of a crime, although technically he hadn't stolen anything.

"You want a beer or some hot chocolate or something, Clayton, um I mean my Dad and his wife are out, won't be back for hours".

Mickey snorted out a laugh, "you fucking serious, you like retarded or something? I just tried to rob you and now you're offering me hot chocolate?"

Ian grinned and shrugged casually, "not like I haven't stolen shit before. I get it. I know you haven't exactly got a choice Mickey. And," he paused and looked away, almost shyly, "miss the South Side I guess, don't see my family as much as I'd like. Figured you could catch me up on shit, on Mandy".

"That annoying bitch," he joked, "she's still a pain in my ass and a huge slut. There, all caught up freckles".

He turned to leave, feeling awkward now and feeling his cheeks flush with colour as the goofy kid smiled confidently back at him. It was as though he actually liked Mickey's abrupt manner or some shit.

"C'mon Mick, I'll even toss in some marshmallows. I remember you have a sweet tooth".

Mickey raised his eyebrow in a question, "the fuck you know that?"

Ian laughed and started towards what he presumed was the kitchen, "you think I didn't know about all those snickers you swiped from the store?"

Before he registered it, he was walking forward, following him, as if he was a magnet being drawn in that direction.

"You fucking stalking me or something, watching me, kinda creepy man".

His tone was easier and lighter than intended. Shit, he almost sounded like he was dangerously close to flirting.

Ian cocked his head and studied his face for a second before replying, with a wide devilish grin.

"Kinda my job Mick, to keep my eyes on you".

Mickey tried to hide an emerging smile with his hand and was forced to look away, from that intense green gaze. His skin felt electrified and he was sure his cheeks were glowing.

"Well it's not anymore, guess you don't need a job since you moved up in the world".

Ian set a large mug down in front of him, complete with mini pink and white marshmallows floating on top.

"Not so sure I did," Ian paused and seemed thoughtful, "kinda miss it, working, earning money, even miss the fucking ghetto".

Ian laughed dryly and Mickey shook his head at him in disbelief.

"I just mean it's different here, fucking boring and like dad's just trying to make up for lost time so he never yells or says no. Its weird".

"Oh poor you, shit, you don't know how lucky you have it man. Complaining like a spoilt princess about being rich and living in a place like this, where you don't get a black eye every other day".

"You think I don't hear myself Mick. Course I know I sound like a prick. I just don't feel like I belong here. I don't fit in. I don't know how to live this fucking normal life".

"Well, I'd swap places with you any day," he muttered, blowing on the hot chocolate before talking a long satisfying sip. Damn, it tasted good, like proper expensive shit, not that crappy dollar store stuff that masqueraded as "chocolate".

"I'm sorry, I know I suck. I go to a great school and have everything I want. Meanwhile the rest of the Gallaghers are still living in that shithole, with fucking Frank".

"Actually, heard he's shacked up with some rich bitch over on the North Side. Never stops bragging about it in the Alibi".

Ian laughed and shook his head, "course he is. Frank always manages to land on his feet".

"Looks like you take after him in that respect Red, even if he's not your real dad or whatever. Suck it up, you got out. You can make something of yourself. Mandy always said you were smart, so don't waste that education. Go cure cancer or whatever the fuck".

Ian settled down, sitting opposite him, as they both smiled quietly around their mugs. The situation was weird but only in how it wasn't weird, not really. Mickey felt at ease, like he was naturally able to talk with Ian, his usual shyness not present.

"Not really a science geek, believe it or not," Ian joked, an attractive smile on his face again, "more of an English Lit geek".

"You mean like books and shit. Rather you than me pal".

"Wait, you can actually read, Mickey?"

Mickey sat up straight, ready to knock the fuckers teeth down his throat. That was, until he caught sight of Ian's cocky smirk. He flipped him off and felt a smirk of his own creeping up.

"Fucking comedian over here," he muttered, "course I fucking can, dickhead. Might be a Milkovich but doesn't mean I'm a dumb fuck".

"Never thought you were," Ian replied with a gentler smile now and a fondness in his eyes. "Always figured you were smart. And, funny too".

Ians eyes darted away, his lips lowered to the mug again, his cheeks faintly pink.

"Funnier than you anyway," he teased in return, "not that it'd be hard".

"I meant it, I want to help. Don't want you getting into trouble or whatever...with Terry".

Ians eyes appeared sincere and possibly full of concern too. Mickey was surprised, wondering how this kid, who was almost a stranger to him, was genuinely worried about him returning home empty handed.

Then again, he probably witnessed Mickey's battered and bruised face on numerous occasions. Perhaps at the Kash n Grab or at the Milkovich House when he hung out there with Mandy. Likely his sister confessed some harsh home truths to her BFF too. Fuck.

"Can't take your shit Gallagher. It's fine, I'll hit some other place up on the way home".

Ian rose to his feet, taking out his wallet, offering a wad of cash to him.

"The fuck," he stood and swatted his hand away in offence, "don't want your money either; not a fucking charity case. And just cos your whore of a mother fucked some rich prick doesn't make you better than me".

Ians face grew red with anger and he stepped forward, invading his space, "don't fucking talk about her like that Mickey. I know I'm not better than you, never fucking said I was. Just don't want you getting punched in the face, or worse, by that evil psychotic prick. Fuck me, for giving a shit".

Ian shoved him and Mickey shoved him back. Both of their chests heaved up and down, both clearly emotional.

"Shit, I shouldn't have said that about your mom; not like mine was much better. Not cool. I know she had fucking problems or whatever, " he thumbed his nose, stumbling on his words, "just don't like handouts alright, I can take care of myself".

Iam nodded and his expression softened further, "I know you can take care of yourself Mick. Just nice sometimes to let other people help. Not like I can't spare some cash. Please, just let me help, let me feel like all of this," he gestured around, "means something. If it means saving that pretty face from getting another pounding, then its worth it".

Mickey's eyebrow pulled up and a sharp breath left his mouth, "did you just call me fucking....pretty....think its you thats looking for a pounding pal".

Ian smirked and approached him, head cocked to the side, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Generally I do the pounding...but I'm always open to trying new things".

As if Ian's bold words weren't having enough of a mind-blowing affect on his body, the asshole winked (actually winked) at him.

Mickey opened and closed his mouth like a fish, rendered utterly speechless. Not only was the kid gay but he was openly flirting with Mickey, implying shit; not just about himself but about Mickey too. The giant sized balls on Ian. He was pretty impressed though, considering Mickey could easily be kicking his ass right now. Talk about a risky move.

"I uh, better go"

He mumbled and pointed vaguely in the direction of the door, "Terry...you know...fucking schedules or whatever".

Ian chuckled and stepped forward again. His hand reached out, trailing down his chest; smoothing out the creases on his shirt, and then he was stuffing something in his pocket. Before Mickey could argue, Ian was shutting him up in the most unexpected and unsettling way. By pressing his warm lips against his.

Naturally his reaction was to push him away, which he attempted to do but Ian was stronger than he looked and held his hands at the wrists. Green eyes locked on his, questioning, searching. And somehow Mickey relaxed enough to nod up and down.

There was that predatory smirk again before those lips were on his once more, firmer now, with puprose and determination. But it was a brief and tame kiss, which he was grateful for. Because if Ian tried to take it further, put his hands on him or slipped him the tongue, he wasn't quite sure what would happen. Could end up in a fuck or a fight, Mickey wasn't certain. All that he was certain of, was that his skin was on fire, his heart was thumping wildly and he was breathing harshly.

"Think of it as an advance payment...or a loan," Ian said next, waking him from his haze.

"Huh?"

"You can repay me"

"How the fuck do you expect me to pay your pampered ass back. Piss poor here, remember".

Ian laughed, once again causing an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and Mickey smiled automatically upon hearing the pleasant sound.

"There's other ways to pay me back Mick," Ian replied with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck off, you think cos you kissed me I'm some sort of prostitute...I'm not even gay man".

He almost choked on the lie and judging by Ian's amused expression he wasn't buying it either.

"If you say so. Besides, that's not what I had in mind....but now that you mention it...."

Mickey scratched his eyebrow and flipped him off, barely containing a smile.

"Fine. No sexual favours, got it, " Ian joked, his hands held up in the air, "I just meant you can pay me back by maybe hanging out with me once it a while, that's all".

"You just want me to hang out with you...and you'll basically pay me for it...the fuck is wrong with you man?".

Ian cackled and shook his head, "nothings wrong with me. I just fucking like you or whatever and I already told you; the moneys insurance, protecting that pretty face of yours".

Mickey's middle finger was raised once more while his face was busy heating up, "ok fuck, fine, i'll take the cash. But not promising you anything. You're fucking weird man, not sure how much more of you I can handle".

Ian's face lit up and he cocked his head in that boyish, mischievous way again, "pretty sure you can handle a lot Mick," he paused and hummed, "hopefully".

"The fuck," he whispered, the word coming out in a shuddery breath. "I'm outta here. Good luck with being rich now or whatever".

He waved at him, clumsily and awkwardly, before swiftly heading towards the door.

"Don't be a stranger Mickey".

He didn't even need to turn around to recognise the grin that cocky redhead was undoubtedly sporting. Ian Gallagher. Of all the houses. Of all the situations. This night had not turned out like he had expected. He paused at the door, his fingertip tracing over his bottom lip, somehow still feeling Ian's lips there. Fuck. Mickey already knew it. He needed to kiss him again.

"Whatever. See ya later, firecrotch".

❤🎁🎄🌈

[batty4steddie]

bones 🦴 @galladrabbles

Ian was obsessed with how well Mickey’s hand fit in his. The size of their bones complimented each other. Ian was already convinced they were soulmates, but the first time they held hands and their fingers laced together perfectly, he felt it.  One of Ian’s favorite things to do was hold Mickey’s hand. Any excuse he had, he took it. When he wanted to show Mickey something, he’d take his hand. Ian would thread their fingers so they wouldn’t get separated in a crowd. He held on tight while they fucked and after when he didn’t want to let go.

[wrinkly-fucking-qtip]

i am neutral towards galladads (more so...towards no), but every so often i tangle with my personal takes (or what i'd love to see) and i wanna share. strap in, it's long. pt. 1

Ian doesn't push the thought of kids. They had a conversation about it after s11x12, but it took some time, it wasn't immediate. Basically, I think Ian relished the idea of being an uncle for a while. After all, it's always Mickey before anything.

They took care of Franny, Freddie (+upcoming kiddo), and Liam when they were asked to as favors. It subconsciously became this mental practice for them. Some unspoken tension kept rising, cause they felt the other was thinking the same thing but went unmentioned. Partially cause Ian decided not to press, and doing so meant breaking that threshold.

I think Mickey brought it up one day probably, Ian felt somewhat defensive at first, but since he always reminds Mickey about the importance of "communication," it'd bite him in the ass, so he gave in and spoke his truth. They had another conversation about it that ended in an agreement to see a "shrink." They started going, it was a deconstruction of years of trauma, fears, repressed emotions, y'know the drill.

Considering that they were between 25-27 when the show ended, I think they engaged in "intense" therapy for like 5-7 years maybe. Trying to talk through the bulks of it, for the purpose of parenting in the near future.

Through that time, they first contacted Debbie, had thoroughly researched artificial insemination (pls mickey thinking he would have to bang Debbie makes me cry 💀), had a lengthy talk with her. I haven't reached shameless far enough to know Debbie's character, but I think she probably gives them informed advice, a lot of "you guys sure you wanna do this??" And I don't think it stems from a place of objection, more so worry. I like to think she eventually caves in and accepts to help them when they're ready. She loves Ian, Ian loves Franny and Debbie (fuck JW for making it seem like he doesn't in s11) and Mickey and Debbie are besties.

(this is a huge reach but I ponder nonetheless) After thinking of Debbie, I think maybe Ian thinks of Mandy. I fully believe (like many other people) that Ian kept in touch with Mandy from time to time ever since she left, and at some point encouraged her and Mickey to reconnect. It's a slow process, but he knows both of them needed it and yearned for it deep down.

He breaks the news to her that they're gonna be parents at some point, sort of fills her in on the process and the years of therapy, gets Mickey to tell her anecdotes too or whatever. The thing is, at some point in the conversation, he yaps about how he has always wanted two, a boy and a girl (because Ian is a dork like that). That Debbie is only gonna do this once for now because...well that was the agreement, ofc, and he just doesn't wanna overwhelm Mick with two kids of their own even though that's what they practically baby sit.

Jokingly (at first), Mandy offers herself as a surrogate in case they aim for another kid. Ian sheepishly declines, that he couldn't ask her after everything she's been through, but Mandy reassures him that shit is different now. Times have changed, and that even though it's a big deal, she'd comply. Ian says he'll think about it, talk with Mick in case shit does happen as to not spook him. It was a pleasant talk.

He talks to Mickey and at first he doesn't know how to handle the thought of two kids, one of them from Mandy, and he almost feels like all this time in therapy could crumble down at the thought of Mandy being a surrogate. They have a long ass talk.

At the end Mickey affirms that he is open to the responsibility of two kids. The whole thing goes like Ian telling him he doesn't have to do this, that he's fine with just one and that he doesn't have to comply just because Ian would love two kids, and Mickey being like "all these years and you still don't get it through your thick skull that you ain't making me do anything I don't want to" (affectionately ofc). He reassures Ian that if he's making these decisions with him it's because he wants to, and he admits he owes a lot of it to that "shrink" they go to he's come to appreciate. It was a lovely conversation tbh and many fears and goals were shared between them.

[jessij1997]

Of course, they never really talked about all the shit that had happened over the years but they somehow had managed to be happy.

A delayed honeymoon in a mysterious house throws them both off track and they are painfully reminded of their past.

Will they be able to let go of fear and guilt and painful memories? Will they be the same afterwards?

And the much more important question: Will Mickey manage to save Ian and himself?

..."Oh, fuck you Mickey. I took my shit, okay? I'm not going crazy!" Mickey raised his arms. "Never said otherwise." He said. "I know that look." He titled his head to the side and gave him a flat stare. "Okay, fine. The thought was there for a second, okay? But if you say you… ain’t crazy or some shit, I'll believe you, okay?" Mickey had still his hands in defense next to his head, as if Ian was a cop with a gun. "But you don't believe me with that?" He shook the key in his hand and something in Ian's tone made Mickey drop his arms and take a step toward him. "Allright. So a keyhole, you say?" Mickey stepped closer and reached for the key. Ian nodded and put it in his hand. Something in Ian's stomach turned. As if something important was being taken away from him. As if a mother's child was being ripped away from her and he felt pain spreading in his chest. Mickey turned the key over in his hand, looking at it closely. Then he lifted it up to Ian's temple...

Coming soon on AO3!

[cloudy-em]

The Deal - Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader

To be honest, I don’t know why it started. I made a deal with Y/N that if she pretended to be my girlfriend so I could avoid Andrea, then I’d do whatever she wanted for a day. It was stupid. I didn’t even like Andrea. We had sex at a party one time and suddenly she was following me everywhere. Of all the people I could’ve asked to fake date me, I don’t know why I asked Y/N. Some neo-freudians can claim that it was my subconscious trying to manifest my hidden urges into real life, or a neuroscientist can claim that I’m not a genius and that I’m actually stupid. I’d definitely agree with both perspectives. 

At first I was shocked that Y/N even agreed. We’re close friends, sure, but it was definitely a higher-stakes ask. When she said yes, I felt a bubbling excitement, but I wrote it off as excitement that I could finally get Andrea to leave me the fuck alone. 

It started slow. We’d hold hands at school, skip class to smoke together. Nothing out of the ordinary for us. Usually, I’d hold her hand in the busy hallways to ensure she wouldn’t get pushed around, and we always shared our cigarette and weed stashes with each other. That was phase one. 

Phase two consisted of being seen alone together in public. I’d saved up some money from doing other kids’ homework, so I’d start taking Y/N out on dates. Not under the L or to the Alibi where we could get free beer, but actual dates where people would see us. Little diners nearby, nothing to expensive. We’d go after school most Fridays and get fries or milkshakes to share. Pretty soon, rumors were spreading that Lip Gallagher was no longer available for a quick fuck because he was dating Y/N L/N. 

Phase three was the phase I figured would keep Andrea away for sure. Y/N and I would leave classes and pretend to fuck in janitor’s closets and bathrooms, locking ourselves in and fake moaning, trying not to laugh at each other over how stupid it all seemed. She’d started sleeping over in my room as a “just in case”, and it worked out for both of us. If Andrea was ever walking by the house, she’d see us walking in or out together or in the windows. It worked for her because she got to avoid her home life. We’d share cigarettes curled up in the top bunk together, laughing over how we’d gotten $50 each from one kid’s tutoring session. Andrea didn’t stand down. 

Phase four was the last and final phase that Carl, Ian, and I had planned to keep Andrea away. Y/N and I would go to a party, drink a lot, get a little handsy, and head back home together. Andrea was a party girl for sure, and there’s no way she’d miss one, which made it easy for Y/N and I to execute the finale of the operation. Ryan Bodero was hosting a big party, and Y/N and I thought it would be a good one to finalize our mission. We arrived fashionably late (we smoked a joint together to help us get through the evening) and the party was in full swing. Drunk students everywhere, clouds of smoke, loud music, and enough alcohol to be a full-service bar. I squeezed Y/N’s hand, guiding her through the crowd. She let go of my hand to hold onto my bicep as she stood on her tip-toes to whisper in my ear. 

“Andrea’s over there, by the bar, you wanna get a drink?” she pulled away and smirked. I nodded at her before rejoining are hands and heading over to the “bar”. We stood right next to Andrea. Perfect. 

“Alright, baby, what do you want? I’ll make it for you,” I was playing the role of good boyfriend probably louder than I needed to, but whatever it took. Y/N giggled, twirling her hair and pretending to think. “Hmm, what about a vodka cranberry?” she requested. Of course, after being friends for years, I knew that’s what she wanted. I nodded and kissed her forehead before moving over down the counter to mix her drink. I’d never kissed her forehead before. The only PDA we exhibited were hugs and handholding, but it felt natural to place a kiss there, like I was keeping her safe while I was away. After everything she’s been through, it’s what she deserves. I’m supposed to be her loving boyfriend, afterall. 

I finish her drink and bring it over to her, a beer in my other hand for me. She takes her drink and takes a sip, knowing before she even tasted it I made it how she likes it. She smiled at me, wrapping one arm around my neck in a brief hug and pulling away. It was too soon. “Thanks, honey! I’m gonna go talk to Laila real quick and then I’ll be back!” I watched her walk away, smiling even after she left and leaned up against the counter, looking around the room. When I turned to my right, Andrea was suddenly there. 

“So, you and Y/N, huh?” she asked. Thank god, she’s finally accepting that I don’t like her, and she’ll move on. “Yeah,” I sighed. “Best thing that ever happened to me!” I laughed. “Ha, well, I don’t think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her,” Andrea says. I’m confused, and she can see it on my face, so she grabs my chin and turns my face to where she’s looking. Y/N and Ryan Bodero are talking, a bit too close for comfort, and his hands are on her hips. Only, she doesn’t seem to want them there. I feel my blood boil, ripping my face from Andrea’s grip. 

“Hey, asshole!” I say, walking towards Ryan. “That’s my girl, didn’t you know?” Ryan rolls his eyes and laughs, “No, but I don’t think she cares.” He pulls her closer for emphasis, but she tries to pull away, an uncomfortable look on her face. “Let me go,” she says to him before looking at me, practically begging me to do something. 

“Alright look, Ryan, I get that you have no respect for women, but let me teach you something. When a lady says no, you respect her,” I tell him, smashing my beer bottle on the side of his head. He lets her go and stumbles backwards, but comes back for me. We throw a few punches back and forth. My knuckles are hot, but I barely notice the pain. He can’t treat Y/N like that. I won’t allow it. He gets me in the eye, and I’m sent backwards. I go to lurch forward again, but Y/N touches my bicep. 

“Lip, you’re hurt, let’s go please,” she says. I nod at her, seeing her concern, but I turn to Ryan. “This isn’t over.” Ryan turns back to his friends as Y/N and I walk away. I hear her mutter, “yes, it is over.”

It’s a short walk back to my place, Y/N still clung to my arm, quiet but worried. When we walk inside, she tells me to go sit in the kitchen. I do. She grabs ice and some towels to clean up the blood and put ice on my eye to keep the swelling down. I’m sitting in the chair, and she’s standing in front of me, one of the few times she’s ever taller than me. I can’t help but stare up at her, but she doesn’t meet my gaze, too focused on cleaning the blood from my lip and nose. 

“Lip,” she starts. “You can’t just start fights like that. Someone could call the cops or maybe he’ll press charges! You can’t afford to go to jail.” 

“I know, baby,” the nickname rolling off my tongue like second nature and I barely notice her shoulders tense. “But he wasn’t respecting you, and he needed to be taught a lesson.” 

“No, he didn’t-” she starts to argue. “Dammit, you’re my girlfriend and I love you! Let me look out for you, please!” I’m slightly exasperated, not even realizing my confession. She’s shocked, lips parted like she wants to say something but can’t. I sigh, slouching in the chair, defeated. 

“Look, I know that wasn’t the deal. You didn’t sign up for a real relationship. But we’ve been friends for years and I’ve had a crush on you but I kept trying to get over it because I didn’t wanna fuck things up and here I am fucking things up but the more we fake dated, the more it felt real and I know in reality you’re single and you can do what you want but seeing my girlfriend being harassed by some asshole just made me so mad and I just lost it. I’m sorry.” I don’t usually talk about my feelings. I don’t even remember the last time I talked about my feelings. But I needed her to know that it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, that I wasn’t just lonely. That I really cared for her. I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst. 

I feel her run her fingers through my hair, her rings gently tugging on the strands. 

“You’re right, baby,” she says softly. I look up at her, and we make eye contact for the first time since we walked through the door. “You’re my boyfriend. I should let you look out for me, just like you should let me look out for you. We’re in this together, right?” I nod, at a loss for words, still processing. I wrap my arms around her, my head hitting just below her breasts as I hold her tightly, her fingers still moving through my hair. 

“What do you say we forget this whole deal and we just date like we’re supposed to?” 

We both liked that idea.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

thank you so much for reading!!

requests are open, so send me a message if you have any ideas or if you'd like to join one of my taglists!

[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.