#my gallavich ficlet

[sam-loves-seb]

the bathroom drawer

"Mickey!" Ian yells. "Did you move my cologne?"

"Your what?" Mickey calls back, appearing in the bathroom doorway while buttoning up his shirt.

"My cologne."

"No. I don't even know where you keep that shit."

"In here!" Ian says, shaking his head as he rummages through the drawer below their bathroom sink. "I swear I left it in here."

"Lemme see," Mickey says, nudging Ian to the side. "You're shit at looking."

"I'm not shit at looking, it's just not fucking there."

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey grumbles, moving the junk in the drawer around. "Jesus Christ. How much shit do we got in here?"

"Too much," Ian muses, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the sink. "But it doesn't matter anyway. It's not in there. I've been looking for--"

"Found it." Mickey holds up the blue bottle with a smug grin.

Ian grabs it from him. "Whatever."

Mickey raises his eyebrows. "Whatever? That's what I get?"

Ian leans in and gives him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," he says instead.

"Better," Mickey grumbles.

Ian spritzes the cologne onto himself while Mickey keeps rummaging around in the drawer. He pulls out an empty toilet paper roll, a broken comb with too many teeth missing, and an old phone charger with exposed wires.

He throws them all in the trash. "This thing is a mess."

"Yeah," Ian says with a sigh, checking himself over in the mirror. He paws at his hair a bit. "We gotta do a deep clean in here one of these days. Closet's a disaster too."

"What the fuck is--"

Ian looks over at his husband when he doesn't finish his sentence.

Mickey's brows are furrowed as he holds up a thin black stick in front of his face. "Is this makeup?"

Ian huffs out a faint laugh. "Yeah."

"Debbie's?"

"That thing's old enough to be Fiona's," Ian tells him, taking it from Mickey. "But no. It's mine."

Mickey raises his brows. "Yours?"

Ian uncaps the tube, twists the end so the little black tip pushes through the end. "Eyeliner."

"Holy shit," Mickey says slowly. "How fucking old is that thing?"

"Old," Ian says, trying to read the chipped writing on the side for any kind of date. "Probably expired."

"That shit expires?"

"Supposedly. But who knows."

Mickey tilts his head, watching Ian examine the eyeliner. "How the hell did it end up here?"

"No idea," Ian tells him. How it survived in the Gallagher house for as long as it did and moved to their west side apartment is beyond him. "Probably got boxed up with some of my shit a long time ago."

"Huh," Mickey muses. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Can't believe you used to put that shit on every night."

"Me neither," Ian says. "You ever tried it?"

"What, make up?"

"Yeah."

"For a disguise once or twice," Mickey tells him with a shrug. "Never like, just 'cause."

Ian starts to grin. "You wanna?"

"Fuck no," Mickey says instinctively. He bites his lip. "Why? You gonna wear it tonight?"

"Why not?" Ian asks, facing the mirror and leaning in close. "We're already going to a club. Might as well get go all out."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Ian glances over at his husband. "You got a problem with that?"

Mickey shrugs. "No."

"Okay."

Mickey watches with rapt attention as Ian applies the eyeliner to himself. The stick is old for sure, and it takes a few passes to really get the make up on his eyelid. It only takes a minute though, and then Ian's eyes are outlined in black.

"There," he says, blinking and turning to face Mickey. "How do I look?"

"Weird," Mickey says.

"Sure, but like, crazy weird, or hot weird."

Mickey's brows pinch together. "...Hot weird."

Ian grins. "It's kinda doing it for you, isn't it?"

"No. Shut up," Mickey says quickly.

Ian laughs. "You should try it," he tells his husband. "It's fun."

"It looks like it's gonna get in my eyes."

"Maybe," Ian says with a shrug. "But I bet you'd look hot with it."

"You say that about everything you want me to wear."

"And I've never been wrong once."

Mickey makes a face. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"...Can I take it off if it looks stupid?"

Ian's face relaxes. "You can take it off whenever you want," he says softly. "Doesn't ever have to leave this bathroom."

Mickey glares at the eyeliner, his face slowly melting into apprehensive reluctance. "Fucking... fine."

"Really?" Ian asks, perking up.

"How do I do it?"

"I can do it," Ian offers, holding up the eyeliner and his open hand. "Lemme put it on you."

Mickey sighs through his nose, then steps closer. He tilts his chin up and fits his face into his husband's waiting hands.

Ian kisses his temple. "Close your eyes."

Mickey does as told. His eyelashes flutter at the first press of the stick, eyelids scrunching at the new, weird sensation.

"Hold still," Ian whispers, trying not to poke him in the eye.

"Feels weird," Mickey mumbles.

"Yeah, but..." Ian pulls back, smiling at his work. "Open your eyes."

Mickey blinks them open, eyebrows bouncing with it. "So?"

"Damn," Ian says, grinning. "You look good, baby."

"Fuck off with that," Mickey grumbles, turning towards the mirror. He makes a face. "I look like a fucking alien."

"A hot alien."

Mickey gives him the side eye, but he doesn't immediately wipe the eyeliner off. He leans in close to the mirror, tilts his head this way and that. Pulls at the skin on his cheeks and his temples. "Weird," he says quietly.

"So," Ian starts, capping the eyeliner and tossing it back in the drawer. "You ready to go, or what?"

Mickey sighs heavily, taking one last look at himself in the mirror.

Ian slides in behind him, curls a hand around his hip. "Don't overthink it," he whispers, kissing his husband's temple. "If you like it, go with it."

"I don't know if I like it."

"That's okay too."

Mickey leans back against him. "It looks good on you."

Ian smiles softly. "Thanks."

Mickey hums. "Fine," he says, standing up straight. "Let's go. But if anyone says anything about it--"

"I know," Ian says, hands on his husband's shoulders as he follows him out of the bathroom. "You get to punch them."

"I get to punch them."

"Fine." Ian kills the bathroom light. "And we might have to hit the 24 hour CVS on the way home. I definitely don't have make up wipes."

[mmmichyyy]

40? for the prompt

#40. "am i your husband or your taxi service?"

the first time it happens, mickey doesn't think much of it.

can you pick me up after my shift? too tired to take the L

when mickey is near the station, he parks the van a block away. force of habit from when he and his brothers used to sneak up and collect from people who owed terry money. plus, he doesn't particularly want ian's coworkers to see their stolen ambulance, even though it's completely unrecognizable after debbie helped them revamp the entire thing and paint over it with the logo sandy designed.

here

i don't see you

i'm parked a block away

pick me up at the station

your legs don't work?

i'm tired :(

i drove the van

it's fine no one will be able to tell lol

mickey rolls his eyes and drops his phone in the cupholder. as he pulls up across the street from the station, he sees ian standing on the curb, chatting with someone wearing a matching EMT uniform, a shorter man with tan skin and curly hair.

mickey honks once, a bit impatient since he's hungry as fuck and there's a large pizza he ordered earlier waiting for them at their apartment. ian lifts his head and smiles. as he waves goodbye to his coworker and jogs over to the van, mickey doesn't miss the way the dude is gaping at mickey with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

the hell is this guy's problem?

"everything okay?" mickey asks, once ian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his seat.

"just tired." ian yawns. "had a long shift today."

"well," mickey puts the van in drive, reaching over the center console to ruffle ian's hair, promptly forgetting ian's weird coworker, "i already ordered a pizza so we can eat then turn in early."

ian smiles sleepily and interlaces his fingers with mickey's. "you're the best husband ever."

mickey shakes his head, biting back a smile. "sappy fucker."

*

after almost two weeks of ian asking to be picked up, mickey suspects something is up. not that he minds or anything, since he makes his own schedule nowadays. after the security business started turning a profit and ian went back to being an emt, he hired a couple of guys to drive the routes so he could work from home and catch up on admin work, freeing up a lot of time in his day to day.

but ian never used to mind the commute. he's the kind of long-legged freak who liked to take the scenic route and go on long runs in the morning, just for fun. absolutely deranged behaviour, in mickey's opinion. but lately, ian has been flashing his kicked-puppy eyes and asking to be chauffeured like a pampered prince and, well. mickey could never resist spending more time with his husband, so he hasn't said anything. not yet, anyway. god he's so whipped.

the excuses ian came up with, however, were more unbelievable as it went on, ranging from the train broke down (mickey knew for a fact it didn't), to spraining his elbow (though he had no problem throwing mickey on the bed later that night with his supposedly injured arm), to how it was going to rain later (it was sunny all day without a cloud in sight).

when mickey tried to call him out on his bullshit, ian either got down on his knees or flipped mickey over and fucked him senseless into the bed, promptly making mickey forget what the hell he was trying to say.

it's gotten to the point where ian stopped making excuses and simply asked mickey to come get him. which truthfully, mickey doesn't mind at all. but he just finds it odd how his beefy athletic husband had gotten so lazy.

"what's with you?" mickey finally asks one day, as ian climbs into the passenger seat.

ian blinks innocently. "what do you mean, dear husband of mine?"

mickey rolls his eyes. "am i your husband or your fuckin' taxi driver? 'cause i've been picking your ass up every day for the past two weeks when you have two perfectly functioning legs."

ian huffs, crossing his arms. "maybe i just want to spend more time with you."

"we live together," mickey points out flatly, "how much more time do you need?"

"i–"

a tap on the glass interrupts them, and mickey turns to see a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, enthusiastically gesturing at him to roll down the window.

"the fuck?" mickey turns to ian, whose face has turned slightly pink. "did you forget something at the station?"

"ah, no." ian scratches his head sheepishly. "sue is just being... sue."

sue waves her hand again and mickey reluctantly lowers the window.

"mickey, this is sue, my supervisor, and sue, this is–"

"the elusive husband." sue grins. "i've heard a lot about you, mickey."

mickey raises his brow. "have you now."

"oh sure," she says, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "ian won't shut up about you, yapping on and on about mickey this and mickey that. we're all jealous at the station actually, everyone just complains about their partners while ian keeps gushing about how perfect and amazing his husband is. his words."

"huh." that explains a lot, actually, why there was always someone different waiting with ian every time he came to pick him up, and why they all stared at him like a circus freak. "well, i bet ian didn't tell you the time we stole an ambu–"

"okay," ian cuts in loudly, reaching over to turn the key in the ignition, "we're leaving. i'll see you tomorrow, sue."

"come to the company picnic next month," sue calls out. "it's a potluck and everyone is bringing their family. it'll be fun!"

"uh sure," mickey says, even though a social gathering with ian's nosy coworkers sounds like the least fun thing he's ever heard of. he looks over at ian, slumped in his seat, avoiding mickey's eyes. "I'll check my schedule."

once mickey drives around the corner, he playfully flicks his finger at ian's temple and ian rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"you yap about me to your coworkers," mickey teases. "you're so fuckin' whipped."

"whatever," ian grumbles. "stupid sue calling me out."

"is that why you keep asking me to pick you up?" mickey asks, amused. "to parade me around like a little show dog?"

"well, eduardo blabbed to everyone he saw you, then everyone kept asking about you and wanted to see you in person, so..."

"hm." mickey reaches over and brushes his thumb over ian's palm. "what do you say about me?"

ian links their fingers together and sighs. "that you're attentive. funny. caring. protective. loyal. the ideal man."

mickey laughs. "you're really overselling me here, gallagher. did you forget i'm an ex-convict, pimp and drug dealer?"

ian waves him off and continues. "kind. loving. perfect in every single way, except when you leave your socks on the floor. oh and that you're hot as hell with an ass that won't quit."

"you talked about my ass?"

"okay, i didn't say the last part," ian amends, "your ass belongs to just me. but i meant everything else i said."

"you really are a sappy fucker."

"you love it."

"i'd love it even more if i didn't have to be your chauffeur every day, at least they get paid to drive back and forth."

"you come with me to the picnic, i'll pay you with favours in bed. i'll even throw in a big tip."

"a big tip, huh..."

[iandarling]

Ian and Mickey playing Cards Against Humanity on their balcony

“Wanna play a game?” Ian asked as he placed the beers down on the table

“Is that a fucking Saw reference, cuz you know I’m into kink but even that’s a little too much for me, man”

Laughing, Ian said “No, it’s a card game- but no, shush, listen! You will like this game, the whole point is to try and be as offensive and rude as possible” He put the box down with the title facing Mickey who did not look happy at the concept of a card game

“Played enough cards inside, man”

“I’m telling you, this is different. Just give it a try ok?”

🖤🧡🖤🧡

“So we each get 7 white cards that will have answers to the questions on the black cards, got it?” Ian started dealing the cards while Mickey looked through the black cards.

Hearing his husband laughing over the prompts on the cards made Ian smile, “what?”

“It says (blank, but not in a gay way) So what, now I look at the white cards and find the fucking answer of whatever” Mickey sipped his beer.

“Yup, the more inappropriate the better. Like this, “A sad handjob, but not in a gay way. That’s pretty funny!”

“Ahh, yeah that’s a good one Red, but look what I got. Necrophilia, but not in a gay way. I fucking win, mine is way worse” Mickey was too smug for someone who just started playing the game

“I told you you would like this game, Mick”

🖤🧡🖤🧡

“Ass to mouth”

“Eating together like a family for once!”

“Dead parents”

“Making your penises kiss”

“Anal beads!!”

🖤🧡🖤🧡

“You know you can buy extra packs of more cards right, so we can get even worse answers if we want” Ian smiled as he packed the game away into its box. “I think they even got a pride version of it filled with just gay jokes”

“You’re a gay joke” Mickey said because saying that he had a great time and would love to play the game again is too sappy. “Buy it”

[jrooc]

Galladrabbles "Muscle"

Thanks for the amazing prompt @blue-disco-lights ✨ (and @galladrabbles)

===

It’s when Mickey lies down at night and closes his eyes, alone in his dark room. That’s when he maps out Ian’s muscles in his mind. Those sculpted arms and the ridges of his back. He can’t help but think of how that hard body feels pressed against his, the weight of it, as he reaches a hand into his boxers to relieve the growing pressure. How Ian’s grown so big that he has to reach up on his tiptoes to kiss him, how hard it makes Mickey when Ian manhandles him, pushing and pulling, wrapping him up, consuming him.

[jademickian]

I think it’s pretty neat that stargazing was a Gallavich thing. 

In season 2, Mickey says “you want us to put a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?” There is that—once again—an inner desire hidden behind the veil of a witty rhetoric. The dawn is popularly the symbol of new hope, the sun coming up shining its light, enveloping the ground with a potential of joy and rebirth. But with stargazing, the darkness in which it transpires precedes the coming of dawn. It is the hoping itself, the wishing, the tilting of head towards the sky, like the heart whispering a prayer to the universe. The sun is a very bright star that illuminates all. It’s overwhelming with its promise of renewal and warmth of love. That's why it’s much easier to look at tinier, less brighter stars at night. The multitude of them enough to give light—not too much—but just enough to stare at, so it doesn’t hit you all at once. The dawn would tell him he deserves to love and be loved, and that contrary to his belief, he’s not fucked for life. It’s a crazy jump, and the blaze of it might even burn. Meanwhile, the twinkle of the stars would tell him that a boy likes him enough to hang out with him, and that it is okay to long for something so far out of reach, for now.

In season 5, Ian is having some grass time (he’s lying on the grass), stargazing. Earlier than this, he mentions you can never see this many stars from Chicago because of light pollution. Mickey calls, and he holds it up to stare at his ringing phone. Contemplating whether he should or should not. He stares at the stars—weaver of fates, guider of travels. Desire, once again, for answers. A confirmation. Some direction. There must be something because here, they’re clearer, unlike back home where it’s hindered by stray city lights. Maybe this could help clear his clouded mind. Maybe he could draw constellations by connecting the dots and it’ll show him what to keep, what to lose. A glint. A flicker. “That’s the most important thing, to find somebody to love, right? Who loves you back for who you are.” But the thing about the stars’ divine message is that it could often be misunderstood. Misinterpreted. Maybe the stars will sigh, oh well. Guess you could take detours. Because another thing about stars is that, although enigmatic to a fault, they know where everything must go. They are close to the language of the gods. Perhaps for now, the answer is to be apart because in the grand scheme of things, it will all play out as planned. 

In season 7, together, under the very same stars. It is hope and desire realized. Who would’ve thought? It was inexplicable, almost alien, that this is how their story is going now. But to the stars, it’s an old song. This is exactly where they should be. It’s the same narrative back then under the bleachers, when they didn’t know better. When voicing your feelings seems a futile and gargantuan feat. It’s the same story now, when they reconvene after, celestial forces refusing to cut these ties. When feelings are all you could voice out, as you’ve learned that if they swim inside you long enough, you’ll drown. “God I missed you.” The stars have known since the beginning. Its plans, slowly unfolding themselves. The wisdom they hold seem nearer now that if reached by the fingertips could be cold to the touch—not yet, not yet. 

But even stars could grow impatient. 

Even stargazer lilies—observer of heavenly bodies, predictor of futures—bloom facing the sky. Upwards, toward the stars, the flower looks upon. Maybe they’re ready for the dawn. The sun, the bigger and brighter star. The ball of fire catapulting itself, yet it doesn’t burn. It caresses, warm to the touch, and over the land gives life. It is here before them, and it will be here after. 

“Now?” Now.

[lupeloto]

“the best thing to ever happen to me” ficlet

so ian is struggling with a down and mickey does some reasssuring

Mickey stands at a still in the doorway for a bit, the lowering Sun peaking through the small crack in the curtains. It’s shining on Ian’s body, glistening against his pale-freckled skin, like it was made to illuminate him.

Mickey stalls in the doorway a moment longer, his heart slightly weighed down at the sight of Ian in the same position he left him in this morning… covers draped loosely over his stomach, arms curled underneath his chin, back turned towards the door

“Hey sleepyface,” Mickey shakes himself, forcing a smile on his face as he makes his way to Ian’s side of the bed.

Mickey crouches down in front of him, bringing his hand up to gently caress his cheek as Ian’s eyes flutter open slowly.

A small, almost unnoticeable smile tugs at his lips at the sight of Mickey, “Hey,” he says in a barely audible whisper.

“Hey,” Mickey grins, “Can I make ya something to eat? I’ll see what i can do with the fuckin�� pizza rolls and pop-tarts we got.”

Ian doesnt respond, simply shifting the comforter back on the spot next to him, signaling for Mickey to join him. Although irritated at being ignored, he feels a rush of relief flood his body. Ian wanting company was a good sign.

“Alright softie, gimme a minute,” Mickey tugs off his work uniform before grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the drawer. He pulls back the comforter, a sigh of relief escaping him as the cold sheets hit his bare chest. It had been a long day taking on deliveries himself…not that he would ever complain.

“Ya wanna turn around? Haven’t seen that face all day,” Mickey touches Ian’s shoulder lightly.

Ian slowly turns his body around, a certain sluggishness plaguing his movements, “Telling me you miss my face and i’m the softie?” He speaks slower than usual, a lag in his joke delivery but a small smile on his face anyways.

“Fuck off,” Mickey says through stifled laughs. He revels in this moment, that sunset now revealing a dusted pink through the curtains that shine on Ian’s face, perfectly complimenting the dusting of orange freckles.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispers, facing Mickey, hands curling up under his chin again.

“I know it’s hard. It doesn’t just happen to me,” he hesitates, stumbling slightly over his words, “It-it’s happening to you, too. And i’m-“

“Hey,“ Mickey leans his face in closer, eyes staring up at Ian, “Shut the fuck up for me.”

“Don’t wanna hear any more of that shit. You happening to me was the best goddamn thing I could’ve asked for,” Mickey rolls over on his back, slightly insecure at the level of intimacy in the statement.

“Hey,” Ian touches Mickey’s chin, turning his face towards him, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me too.”

“Yeah?” Mickey asks, flashing that one-smile he does paired with a flush of his cheeks. Ian fucking loves that smile. From the minute he first saw it he never wanted it to leave, promising himself to make him smile like that every single day he could.

“Yup. Known it for eleven years of my life,” Ian says, a slight higher register in his voice that lifts a small weight off Mickey’s chest.

“Alright, enough of this shit you sappy-ass. I’m starvin’, want some pizza rolls? Pop-tarts for dessert?” Mickey questions, raising his eyebrows sarcastically as if he had just offered Ian a five-star meal.

“Sounds perfect.” Ian says through a satisfied sigh.

Mickey fumbles out of the bed, leaning over the place a quick peck on Ian’s forehead, moving to his lips for a slightly longer one.

They pull away, a smile on both their faces, “Now get your ass in there, Gordon Ramsey,” Ian grins lightly, poking fun at Mickey’s five-star dinner proposal, feeling a blanket of warmth settling over him.

[golden28s]

it's december and christmas is coming so i wanted to share some of my gallavich christmas headcanons 🎄

and maybe maybe ill write some ficlets based on some of them

- mickey didn't like or understand christmas at all but ian slowly started to "push" him to participate in some stuff like decorating the tree, making dinner for christmas eve, putting some cute lights on their balcony, etc

- mickey pretended he didn't care about decorating the tree at first but ian found him at midnight changing decorations claiming ian did it wrong and had no taste, ian smiled and kissed his forehead.

- ian gets kinda sad during christmas, he still kinda misses his mum and every time mickey notices he's getting sad or he's not having a good day, he makes special plans that day. normally is going on a walk and see the lights, going to christmas markets and buy cute, original decorations for their tree and other times is just them in the fireplace, hot chocolate and one of ian's fav christmas movie that mickey forces himself to like.

- they celebrate new year's eve with the gallaghers but ian and mickey always sneak out and have their own private countdown and kiss at midnight. mickey calls him softie and kisses him again.

- they open their presents together and their rule is to not buy nothing too expensive and mickey is too good at that because he remembers ian's interests and likes too well so he always buys stuff that is useful or can be homemade, and it warms ian's heart every single christmas.

- ian insisted on starting different traditions at their first christmas together as a married couple because he knew mickey didn't have good memories of christmas during his childhood. he even made some of those childhood christmas dreams come true.

- once they have kids they're gonna be really annoying about christmas and ian will want family pictures with matching outfits.

-mickey will absolutely start to dress as santa claus after that one christmas where their kids almost caught them organizing the presents under the tree

-before the kids, they had morning sex the morning of the new year and ian always made a joke about that and mickey laughed and then proceed to deny that he laughed.

-mickey actually likes christmas sweaters

-finally, when mandy is in town ian, mickey and the gallaghers have a secret santa that ian and mickey absolutely use to be embarrassing, shameless and in love and make it everyone's problem.

[mybrainismelted]

Gallavich Lovefest 2024

#3 Something you did yourself in the past year and that's complete

This one started my journey of actually being willing to put my words out there for others in this beautiful fandom to read. And the reaction was so sweet. This little ficlet started my love story with the gallavich fandom @gallavichthings

[mmmichyyy]

if you’re still taking prompts, 53+94?

#53. "take off your shirt."

(1.6k words of ian being a lovable dumb idiot and mickey going along with it)

it was a spur of the moment decision. one minute ian's getting off his shift, the next he's pushing open the door to the tattoo studio he passes by every day just around the corner from his apartment, a sign blaring MILK in bright neon lights welcoming him.

"hey," ian greets the overly-pierced girl sitting at the front desk. "do you take walk-ins?"

the girl snaps her gum. looks him up and down. "are you looking to get pierced or inked?"

"uh, inked." ian fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. "something small, on my arm, maybe. i don't know what i want, though. i haven't really... thought it through."

"well, all our artists are busy right now," she says, unbothered, handing him an album and a clipboard. "so if you don't mind waiting, flip through our flash book and see what kind of design you want, then fill out the consent form when you're ready."

ian nods. "should i wait here or..."

she points down the hallway. "room three is empty right now. i'll send one of our artists over in a bit for a consultation."

to ian's relief, the studio isn't like the grimy tattoo shop he went to a couple years ago. from what he can see, the place is kept clean and sterile, everything neatly organized and spotless. he settles into the leather-cushioned chair and aimlessly flips through the album, eyes glossing over page after page of designs.

honestly, he has no idea what he wants. he doesn't even know why he's doing this; why he wants a tattoo memorializing someone who was barely a fleeting presence for his entire life. how do you sum up a whirlwind and a hurricane? how do you solve a problem like monica? he and his siblings always jokingly asked each other.

but there was always a hint of despair, an unsaid sliver of yearning every time monica was brought up, because... how? how?

which is the very reason why he can't talk to his siblings about any of it - everyone has their own complicated relationship with monica, but no one wants to acknowledge them out loud. their mom is dead and all she left behind are faded memories, paper cuts on their hearts, and a couple kilos of meth.

...and now ian is getting a tattoo for her. go figure.

the longer he sits, however, the more his self-doubt starts to creep in. he starts to wonder if it's too late for him to back out.

"you my seven o'clock?"

ian looks up and finds a man staring at him curiously. a man with dark slicked-back hair and pale skin and a single silver bar piercing above his right brow, framing clear blue eyes. swirling intricate designs run down his arms and disappear underneath a tight black t-shirt - one side all colour, the other black ink only.

shit. this guy is fucking hot.

immediately ian's mind goes blank.

"uh... yes?"

"cool." the man closes the door. "name's mickey. did you fill out the consent form yet?"

mickey. the synapses in ian's brain short-circuits. "not yet...?"

mickey nods, as he heads towards the sink in the corner of the room. "you can fill it out while i set everything up. is this your first time?"

"no." ian lets out a breath and picks up the pen attached to the clipboard. "i've done it before."

"really." mickey surveys him up and down. "i don't see any."

ian winces, glad mickey can't see the patriotic eagle under his shirt. one of his many regrets, unfortunately. "it's um... hidden."

mickey's brows furrow for a moment, before his eyes light up. "ah. gotcha, man."

ian's not sure what to make of mickey's reaction - but he doesn't trust his mind to not say something dumb to who just might be the hottest guy he's ever seen standing in front of him, so he keeps his trap shut and quickly fills out the form before handing the clipboard over.

"so," mickey looks down at the form, "ian. do you know which side you want it on?"

ian blinks. "side?"

mickey blinks back at him. "right or left?"

ah. which arm. "left. i need the right one for work tomorrow," ian jokes.

mickey gives him a strange look. "sure."

ian watches as mickey snaps on a pair of black disposable gloves, then sets out some needles in sealed packages on a silver tray. he didn't think mickey would be a stick and poke kind of artist instead of using a tattoo gun, but at this point ian could care less the method in which he gets inked.

"you nervous?" mickey asks, noticing ian's fidgeting fingers in his lap.

ian lets out a breath.

"kind of," he admits. "my mom... she died recently, and i wanted to get something small to remind me of her."

"you..." mickey pauses. "you're doing this for your mom?"

"why?" ian asks, getting a bit self-conscious now. maybe mickey has seen a lot of his clients regret getting tattoos for their parents. "you think i shouldn't?"

"it's your choice," mickey replies slowly. "if you want something to really remember someone by, then this will do it."

ian lets out a breath. "yeah," he nods. "let's do this."

"take off your shirt, then," mickey says, and ian's brain once again goes offline because of course it does. "i'll sterilize the area first and then we'll get started."

in hindsight, if mickey was just some average-looking guy or literally any other person at all, maybe ian would've caught on earlier. do his due diligence and change the fire alarm batteries in his head, instead of letting the warning bells beep incessantly. he might've thought to himself hey, that's weird, why do i need to be shirtless if i'm getting a tattoo on my arm? and before i confirmed what design i want? when i don't even know what i'm getting? hm? hello?????

but alas, because clearly all rational thoughts have been thrown out of his head (did he have any to begin with?), he quickly unbuttons his emt uniform shirt and tosses it over the side of the chair. subtly yet not so subtly flexes his arms a bit, because hey, why the fuck not? he works out. he's fit. sue him for wanting to show off a bit.

except nothing, absolutely nothing, could've prepared him when mickey wipes a cool, stinging alcohol wipe across his left nipple.

ian yelps. practically falls out of the chair and almost lands on his ass. mickey just stares at him, gloved hand still held up.

"i– uhhhhh– look, there must be some misunderstanding–" ian sputters, feeling his cheeks heat up. "i'm getting a tattoo on my arm, not my, uh...."

"nipple?" mickey supplies, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards.

ian wants to die.

blames himself for thinking with his dick. or rather, not using his brain at all.

either way, he wishes he could pass away on the spot. cut the brakes. burst into flames. end it all, right there and then.

before he can say any parting words and then forever perish from the mortal realm, he feels something drape over his shoulders. looks up to mickey a mere breath's distance away, covering his shivering back with his shirt.

is that a smile on mickey's face? or is ian being delusional once again?

delusional. definitely delusional.

"sooo,” mickey drags out the word, “i guess you're not my seven o'clock nipple piercing appointment?"

ian shakes his head as he hastily buttons up his shirt, ignoring the heat filling his cheeks. "i guess there was some kind of mix-up, the girl out front told me to go wait in room three."

mickey rolls his eyes. "i swear sandy messes up on purpose just to fuck with me. how hard is it to keep track of three rooms?"

"you didn't think it was weird someone would need their right nipple for work? or that they want to get something pierced for their mom?" ian asks, a little incredulous.

mickey, ever full of indifference, merely shrugs. "hey, i don't know your life, man."

there's an awkward lull in the air. ian's eyes dart towards the door, hoping he can make a quick exit and then, perhaps, find a cliff and walk off it. "well, i'll just go then..."

"come back tomorrow night," mickey cuts him off, to ian's surprise. "you said you wanted something small, right? mandy's the best at doing fine line shit, she can help you design whatever you're thinking of."

"sandy, mandy, mickey. what, are you all related?" ian jokes weakly.

"cousin and sister," mickey shrugs. "it's a whole family affair up in here."

"okay," ian nods slowly, watching mickey turn on the tap to wash his hands. guess he’ll postpone his cliff walk for another day. "i'll come back tomorrow then."

just as ian’s about to bolt out the door, he hears a soft hey call out to him. when he turns around, he almost gasps when mickey’s standing directly behind him, and quite nearly has an aneurism when mickey reaches out his fingertips to straighten out his collar, blue eyes directly staring into his soul.

"don't take off your shirt for her though," mickey says, and ian's breath hitches. "bitch doesn't deserve a free show."

before his brain could stop his mouth from running (seems to be a common occurrence today), ian asks, "you liked what you saw, then?"

mickey pats ian's cheek twice, then steps back. "i don't hook up with clients, as a general rule."

"well," ian can't keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. "maybe after tomorrow then, when i’m not a client anymore?"

this time, ian knows he's not being delusional.

mickey's lips are definitely curved into a smile.

“guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

[ohnoitsthebat]

Get To Know You!

Tagged by @vispera-sabbath

Last Song I Listened To: "Paparazzi", by Lady Gaga

Currently Reading: Nothing now. I miss reading :(

Currently Watching: I'm re-watching season 5 of Cobra Kai.

Currently Obsessed With: I've been listening to a lot of Alice in Chains (my fave grunge band) lately and watching their videos and live performances. I've also been obsessed with Gallavich, and am working on a couple of ficlets about them.

Tagging whoever wants to do this!

[jrooc]

Heyy can i request a fanfic where Carl gets beaten up and Ian takes care of him and his wounds since he is his older brother and also an emt ? Thank youuu

Hi Anon! This took me a hot minute but this is for you! Read the whole thing on ao3! ==/

Ian was done with his shift after a long day and grateful to be almost at the Gallagher house for family dinner.

The strap of his EMT medical bag was twisted, so he was busy adjusting it and didn’t immediately register the mayhem in front of him until he was almost tripping over it.

It was a soft groan that made him look up.

A man was lying halfway up the front steps, clearly beaten, moaning, and bleeding everywhere. Whoever it was, he was dirty and bloody and holding his ribcage in pain. Suddenly the man had Ian’s full attention.

Ian jogged the last few steps.

The man was of smaller stature and at first, the irrational part of his brain thought: Mickey. But then he registered light brown hair.

The man dropped his hands from his face and looked up at Ian as he approached.

Carl.

“Ian,” Carl moaned pathetically.

“Jesus, Carl! What the fuck,” he yelled as he skidded to a stop and dropped to his knees beside his brother.

A look of relief passed over Carl’s face before he curled back up on his side.

“Carl, are you okay?” Ian asked while quickly checking for potential spinal cord injuries. He mentally documented multiple lacerations and bruising to the face, blood coming from the torso indicating additional injuries.

“I dunno.”

Ian took a deep breath. He was a professional, just cause this was his brother didn’t mean he could freak out. Okay he was freaking out a little bit. There was a lot of blood, and sure, he’d gotten the crap beaten out of him. But it was too much blood for just a beating.

He lifted Carl’s shirt and rolled him over, examining him while Carl groaned in pain. There, on the side he had been lying on, was a stab wound. Clean in and out, it looked like, and it was pouring blood.

“Shiiiit,” Ian cursed. He opened his bag, grabbed some gauze and pressed it against the wound, shifting Carl so he was lying on his back. Carl groaned again, tossing his head back and forth in pain.

“Carl, what the fuck happened?”

“Ian, thank fuck,” he said, more coherently, like he’d suddenly realized his brother was there.

Ian reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and quickly dialled Sue’s number.

“Miss me? You’ve only been gone an hour,” Sue joked over the line as soon as she answered.

“Sue, bring the rig to 2119 South Wallace. My brother got the shit kicked outta him, need to take him in,” Ian said quickly, grateful his partner was working a double so he wouldn’t have to call it in.

“Shit. Okay, Ian. On my way,” Sue replied and hung up.

Ian refocused his attention on his brother who was watching him but didn’t look fully lucid, his eyes drooping. A black eye was turning dark quickly. Potential concussion, Ian thought.

“Talk to me Carl, what happened?” Ian asked again 

read the rest on Ao3!

[deepeststarfishsong]

My Gallavich Intro

Thanks for putting this together, @callivich!

Name: Samsa or Sam

Age: 32

What made you fall in love with Gallavich? I'm a sucker for a slightly toxic, codependent enemies-to-lovers gay romance. I didn't stand a chance. I love that no matter how insanely shitty the world gets, they show up for each other as best they can. They made an effort to work through so much for one another.

How long have you been a fan? I initially tried watching Shameless in 2016 but never got into it. I'm a social worker for a living and it stressed me out too much, felt like work-sometimes I'd realize I was writing case evals on the Gallagher family in my head. This year I finally got sucked in and there was no getting out.

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene? When Mickey trails Ian and Ned North to happy hour at the Fountain. All that aloof, untouchable, heartless pretense is gone-its so out of his norm, he has no excuse. He shows his whole hand in the most Mickey way possible and Ian sees it for what it is.

Favourite Shalmeless character apart from Ian and Mickey? Probably Lip. He's intermittently a self centered tool, but I appreciate who he is for Ian.

Do you write or draw or make edits? I write! I do ficlets and drabbles here on Tumblr and longer one-shots over on AO3 under the same name.

Favourite type of Gallavich fics?

-Canon compliant or slight canon divergent. I wish I was into AU, there's some great AU writing out there it just isn't my jam.

-Fluff and angst, hurt and comfort, getting together

Favourite Gallavich quote? “Ian, what you and I have makes me free." The fact that he'd grown enough to know he'd felt trapped and to have realized so much about himself in the process.

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? I'm loving the @galladrabbles community. I felt included right away and it's been cool to write on badass prompts and read such good work every Monday.

[lupeloto]

"say it again" ficlet

i got an anon message about how ian is a "say it again" after mickey says i love you type of person and i agree! unfortunately, for some reason whenever i respond to a message a draft it, it goes away so shoutout to that person and if youre reading this, let me know! anyways here's ian try and failing miserably at making pizza and mickey giving him shit for it

..........................................................................................

A tattered red dish towel, littered with cigarette burns and mystery stains, rests on Ian’s shoulder as he focuses intently on intricately laying the pepperonis across the dough. The kitchen is in shambles, shredded mozzarella and yeast painting the counter tops. A warmth accompanies the scene, reminding him of the early mornings and later nights spent with his siblings and one too many pools of pancake batter littering the counter. He follows suit with splattered pizza sauce splattered across his shirt and face, blending with the pattern of freckles decorating his pale skin.

“Jesus Christ, Ian,” Mickey enters with a box of Old Styles and a pack of Marlboro Reds. Ian meets Mickey’s gaze like a deer in headlights. “What’re you doin?” Mickey takes in the state of the kitchen.

“Well,” Ian whips the towel off his shoulder, “I figured we could try somethin’ new. We always have fucking pizza rolls so I thought i’d try to actually make the real thing.” 

“Aint that what take-outs for?” Mickey picks up items on the counter to inspect, “The fuck is yeast?” He examines the yellow packet with uncertainty. 

Ian leans against the counter with a sigh, “It’s not really working out.”

Mickey catches sight of the defeat in those soft green eyes and immediately starts damage control. “Nah, man. It looks good, I’m starvin’” he smells the air and attempts not to gag. How the hell did he screw up pizza so bad? 

“Fuck off," he stifles a laugh.

Mickey cuts him off, “Ay,” he grabs the tattered towel, “Ya missed a spot.” He manages to find the one spot not covered in red sauce and mozzarella cheese, rubbing lightly across Ian’s now flushed-pink cheeks to scrub off the remainder of tonight’s dinner. Ian’s face scrunches slightly at the contact. 

“Cmon, let’s get this shit cooked I’m fuckin starvin,” Mickey turns towards the counter.

Ian lingers for a moment, staring at Mickey with full knowledge that his concoction smells like shit and almost certainly tastes like it too. He leans close to Mickey’s ear, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Mickey grins, "Now come on." He takes Ian’s face in one hand, the other on his waist, as their lips lock and everything else disappears for just a moment.

Ian’s arm is resting on the counter, his triceps sharp and prominent and staring directly at Mickey, tempting him. He looks down, yanking Mickey closer by the waist, his hands enveloping it entirely, “Say it again.” He wears a smug grin.

“Don't push it, Gallagher.”

"Cmon, just need to make sure I heard you right," he tilts his head amorously.

"Oh, s'that right?" Mickey leans in, a small chuckles escaping his lips, "I fucking love you." Ian beams as Mickey dips his hand in a puddle of the sauce that resides on the counter, smearing it across Ian's face with a grin.

As the shock subsides, Ian hesitates for a moment before grabbing Mickey’s face and smashing their lips together. Mickey surrenders to the kiss, the sauce now coating his mouth and dripping down his chin. 

They both pull back, licking their lips with a sour expression.

“You make this?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says with the same bitter expression, hesitating momentarily, “Pizza rolls?”

“Fuck yeah.”

The two spend the remainder of the night sprawled across the couch, Ian’s legs resting in Mickey’s lap as they drift to sleep, two platters of pizza rolls and a full six-pack into the night. Mickey suggests that they give pizza sauce a go, giving a rest to the chocolate sauce and whipped cream that typically coats their bodies... and occasionally their sheets. He questions a few times how Ian could possibly mess up pizza so badly. Ian responds with a middle finger and a "fuck off" every time. The two eventually drift to sleep, Mickey now laying beside Ian, practically drooling on his bare chest, hands intertwined as the glare from the TV illuminates their faces in the nightfall.

[ardent-fox]

Tag Game Masterpost

Got tagged by some wonderful humans, including @celestialmickey, @energievie, @creepkinginc, @metalheadmickey and @look-i-love-u to complete these fun tag games, thank you and spring blossoms to each of you! 💐💙

********

✨️ Tag Game Tuesday Wednesday ✨️

Name: Lyds ⚘️

Age: 34 for another 4 weeks or so 🗓

Where in the world are you? Europe, middle of nowhere📍

The meaning behind your URL: 'Ardent' is one of my favorite words, husband calls me Foxxy cause of my red hair, also it sounds like 'ardent fucks' together so cheeky win 🍑

Your second favorite color: Dusty pink 💕

Any pets? Jasper the bun 🐇

Favorite season: Spring, I feel as if I'm in love with the whole world during it, it kicked in earlier this year and I'm absolutely fine with that 🌸

Last thing you read: Galladrabbles. My brain has been doing its cute thing where it can't focus on reading or writing anything longer than that for the past few weeks 🙃

Last song you listened to: I played the Crazy Ex Girlfriend soundtrack while getting ready to go out, so Gettin' Bi (which has become an anthem of mine ngl) 🎵

What are you wearing right now? A hoodie with a crumbling print of a tattooed and pierced out princess Jasmine taking a selfie, black sweatpants and socks with chihuahuas wearing Santa hats on them, my go-to sexy at home look 😅

A hobby of yours: Writing fanfiction and planning our home makeover, both usually taking place only in my head 💭

Your comfort show or movie: Got several, going with Pride and Prejudice (the 1995 BBC miniseries) this time 📜

And finally, what are you up to today? Had a monthly supply of hay delivered to me this morning, went to a job interview that went surprisingly well, did some chores and now I'm chilling here 😎

********

✨️ Tag Game Fandom Edition ✨️

Your name: Lyds 🌸

Your age: Still 34 😅

Your first fandom(s): Not sure what qualifies, but probably House M.D. 🩺

Your current fandom(s): Though my hyperfixations are always changing, Shameless/Gallavich is the only fandom I actively engage in 🧑🏼‍🤝‍🧑🏻

How did you first get into fandom? I was part of a Tim Burton/Johnny Depp RPG message board where I played 3 characters and we also used to write what I now realize was fanfiction on the spot over MSN. A bunch of us were obsessed with House M.D. and someone must have mentioned fanfiction.net to me cause I got hooked on reading Hilson and Huddy stories around the same time 👀

How long have you been engaging with fandom spaces? The RPG/House era started in 2008, but I didn't become active on Tumblr and AO3 until getting involved in the Shameless fandom as of April 2022 🗓

How often do you read fanfics? When my brain is in the right place, I'd say a couple stories a week 📱

Top 3 characters from your current fandom(s): Ian gallagher, Mickey Milkovich, Castiel (still going through Supernatural and loving every bit of it) 💙

Have you ever written a fic for a fandom? If so, shout it out! Yes, still at one completed ficlet and a Galladrabble collection on my AO3, not counting the 5-6 WIPs I have in my docs 📂

Have you ever drawn fanart for a fandom? Nope, can't draw to save my life 🙃

Share a personal headcanon that you feel very strongly about: Probably not the most original one, but Mickey never liked his full name until Ian stated he thought it was beautiful. Him using it in his wedding vows is symbolic of him reconciling with the darkest parts of himself and accepting them before offering his whole self to Ian, a declaration of love for both of them in his own way. The fact that it somewhat mirrors the act of him apprehensively coming out in front of his own hostile audience, only to confidently show his self-acceptance and love for Ian in front of their favorite people 6 years later is just icing on the (wedding) cake 💖

You’re trying to convince a friend to get into your current fandom(s) with you. What episode, clip, or scene are you showing them? The "I can explain this" scene when Mickey gets shot in the ass and the social worker appears at the Gallagher house, it's peak Shameless madness 😄

And finally, what does fandom mean to you? A sanctuary of creativity and comfort where we can all be, make and enjoy whatever we want, the closest thing to utopia there is 🫶

Tagging @ian-galagher, @sickness-health-all-that-shit, @gallawitchxx, @gardenerian, @squidyyy23, @juliakayyy, @whatwouldmickeydo, @auds-and-evens, @thisdivorce, @sleepyfacetoughguy and whoever sees this and would like to play! ✨️

[arrowflier]

2022 fic writer's interview

Thanks to @thisdivorce, @energievie, @vintagelacerosette for the tags!

1. How many works do you have on AO3

59--but quite a few are compilations, which would basically double it.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

460,173

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Meet the Neighbors (I'm coming back to it soonish I swear)

Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart)

Marriage, Mickey, and Milk of the Gods

Being His Baby Don't Make Me a Bitch

In Case of Emergency

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Sometimes. I go through phases of trying to be better about it, but my brain is also weird and I start to feel conceited if I keep saying thank you😅 I always massively appreciate them though, it makes me so happy!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't think any, except for maybe a couple of galladrabbles like this one

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They have to end to have a happy ending lol, but basically anything that's done.

7. Do you write crossovers?

I'm never sure what can be classed as a crossover, but I've done 911 (In Case of Emergency), Jurassic Park (Tooth and Claw), sort of X-Men, sort of Star Wars (with ideas for a full fic that may or may not come to be), and probably some I'm forgetting.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Just once I think, and it was just someone who really doesn't like Vee's nickname being spelled with more than one letter.🤣

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, and I'm way too proud of it lol. It's mostly way too wordy and flowery language abounds because that's also the only way I can read it😂 I've got a collection of ficlets here from when I first started to write NSFW by request, and other assorted works.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be really cool!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Calli (@ianandmickeygallavich1) and I have been playing around with one (very slowly on my part) that you can find under the tag #arrow&calli write

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I phase in and out of quite a few but right now Gallavich

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I refuse to say I won't finish anything I've started posting lol, but there are a couple things in an old doc that will probably never see the light of day.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I usually say description, but I've been struggling with it lately. Funnily enough, I think dialogue has been working best for me even though I've traditionally been uncomfortable with it.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Overcomplicating things: the plot, the sentence structure, everything. If I can overdo something I will.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've done it once and I think it worked out ok, but I avoid it in general because I don't want to screw it up.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Shameless! Pretty much the only, too.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Good Omens and Our Flag Means Death, both of which I've previously planned things for but never followed through on. I'd be open to a pretty wide range of others but haven't had specific inspiration.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm gonna not limit myself on this, because I haven't felt like I like any of it lately but I was looking through my own stuff for these questions and honestly had forgotten so many I'm kinda proud of? So...

My first fic, because it got me here: F*ck the Stars

My latest fic, because I enjoyed writing for the first time in a while: Countdown to Christmas

My zine fic and my spicy collab fics, just because it was so cool to be part of the group: One hundred hours (without you here) and Show me (to) your garden

And my experiment with a short magic AU from a different of POV, because it was fun if a bit haphazard: Methods of Magic

-

I know this has gone around a bit already, but I'll tag @celestialmickey @abundanceofnots @iansfreckles @sweetbee78 @whatthebodygraspsnot @wehangout @sickness-health-all-that-shit just in case🥰

[sam-loves-seb]

send a number to my inbox and maybe i’ll write a gallavich ficlet with the prompt !!

Sleepy Prompts

1. “Baby, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

2. “Go rest.  I’ll take care of it.”

3. “Do you think it would be helpful if we were cuddling?”

4. “You fell asleep right on my lap.  No no no, don’t feel bad.  I actually thought it was pretty cute.”

5. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

6. “Let me be a mom for a second and tuck you in.”

7. “You’re adorable when you’re sleeping.”

8. “Put the homework away and go to bed.  You look exhausted.”

9. “I called in sick.  Now we can stay in bed and snuggle all day.”

10. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after that.”

11. “That’s the fifth time in the last two minutes that you’ve yawned.”

12. “No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

13. “You’re already half-asleep.”

14. “I’ll carry you.”

15. “That’s, what, your fourth cup of coffee?”

16. “Are you afraid to fall asleep because you think you’re gonna have a nightmare?”

17. “You’re so cute when you’re tired and speaking in half-sentences.”

18. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

19. “Stop fighting it.  You need sleep.”

20. “Goodnight, my love.  Sweet dreams.”

21. “Give me a goodnight kiss?”

22. “Darling, you’re shivering.  Come here, let me warm you up.”

23. “You’re still awake.  Something on your mind?”

24. “Sorry, were you sleeping?”

25. “I didn’t mean to wake you.  Go back to sleep.”

26. “When was the last time your head hit a pillow?”

27. “You twitch in your sleep.  It’s honestly one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

28. “So then I- oh, you’re already asleep.”

29. “You don’t know the wonders a 30 minute power nap could do you right now.”

30. “It was just a nightmare, love.  It wasn’t real.”

31. “I understand wanting to get things done, but please don’t pull anymore all-nighters, babe.  You need to sleep.”

32. “Those energy drinks really aren’t good for you.”

33. “Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night.  Or if you went to bed, for that matter.”

34. “Don’t think I don’t notice you yawning.”

35. “I can’t sleep if you’re not here to cuddle with me.”

36. “It usually takes me a while to fall asleep too.”

37. “Do you wanna hear about the dream I had last night?”

38. “You always end up looking like you’re gonna fall asleep when I play with your hair.”  “Yeah, it’s relaxing.”

39. “You’re obviously tired.  Go lie down.”

40. “I’m gonna carry you to bed if you keep arguing with me about not needing sleep.”

41. “Sleep.  I’ll keep you safe.”

42. “I’m so sleepy.”

43. “Just try and keep your eyes open for five minutes.”

44. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

45. “You should really get some rest.  You’ll feel so much better.”