#violently blushing while trying to type a witty response

[solitary-sapphic]

Ok but you are my tumblr crush

Sounds fake anon, I'm gonna need some evidence to back that up

[heirloommtomatoes]

don’t read the last page but i stay

Mickey and Ian go on another lunch date :) Just some quick super simple fluff! Literally nothing at all happens in this other then a cute date. These boys deserve nothing but sweet domesticity forever and ever, thanks.

Word Count: 2.3k~

———

Mickey picks Ian up from his afternoon shifts whenever they can cram it into their schedule. Do they live together? Sure. Did they get out of prison barely a year ago where their combined shared space was half the size of their Gallagher house bedroom? Sure. Do they still try to spend almost every waking moment together? Absolutely.

Ian’s schedule as an EMT, as sporadic as it has the potential to be, has fallen into a steady routine the past few months. Since Debbie’s arrest, Lip moving out, and the increased responsibility in the Gallagher house, Rita makes sure that every Friday Ian hands his shift over by 5pm. Mickey was promoted at his work — a promotion that warranted his first real Gallagher party a few months back — and is working steadily at the mall as the general security manager.

Ian’s laughing with the new members of his team over some pictures of their kids from last weekend when his phone buzzes. He slides it half-way out of his pocket to look at the screen:

Mick: hey dipshit I took a photo of me waiting for you

Mick: Attachment: 1 Image

Ian swipes on the message and unlocks his phone. The photo is of a mummified, presumably ancient corpse sitting cross-legged on a ridge, probably out of some National Geographic article he’d found while scrolling endlessly through random news pages while waiting for him. He stifles a laugh as he types his response.

Ian: 🖕

Ian: be out in a sec

Mick: 🖕

“That your husband?” Samantha, a younger EMT fresh out of training, nods toward his phone.

“Yeah,” Ian responds as he slips his phone back into his pocket, “Meeting him for dinner and drinks.”

Rita looks over her shoulder from where she’s rummaging around her locker. Ian expects her to make some witty remark at his expense as per usual, but instead: “You got the best relationship record outta any of us here, Gallagher,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “Eleven years, a bipolar diagnosis, and several prison stints seems to be the trick.”

He doesn’t mean to really joke about it; if what they went through together doesn’t count as some seriously real shit, he’s terrified to think of what does. But if he can’t make light of it now and then, if he can’t at least try to ponder the distance between then and now and look back at how far they’ve come and laugh at the simple joy of it all, then what the hell else is he supposed to do?

Laughs ripple around the locker room as Ian raises an warm to wave goodbye to everyone, overlapping “Bye Ian!”s and “Have a good weekend”s following him out.

Ian emerges from the garage, shrugging off his EMT jacket in the mid-afternoon summer sun in a way that makes Mickey’s heart flutter in his chest. He carries it loosely in a hand at his side.

“Bout time, Gallagher,” Mickey says to him with a grin. He’s been smiling a lot these days, he thinks; not that that’s anything new around Ian. He’s been making him smile since he was seventeen.

“Hey,” Ian responds easily, throwing an arm around his shoulders and planting a kiss to his cheek. A blush creeps up Mickey’s face and he grins at the ground as they walk. Ian starts babbling about the kid who broke his arm on the monkey bars and an older woman who fell down her stairs and Mickey listens, butting in for the odd comment or exclamation here and there as they make their way down the block to Boystown. It’s become their once-a-month Friday evening tradition. Mickey picks him up from work, they fill each other in on their days as they walk, they grab dinner and drinks either at one of their favourite spots in Boystown if they’re feeling like they want their own little escape, or at The Alibi if they feel like keeping it close to home. Today is too beautiful of a day to not make use of the clean outdoor patios the bars in Boystown can provide.

Mickey recounts his day when Ian’s done and maybe it doesn’t sound quite as glamorous on the surface of things, but it barely occurs to either of them. They’re both doing something they’re good at, something they’re each coming to realize they genuinely enjoy, something that makes them feel useful, and if that isn’t success, what is?

“So this old woman stuffs a bra between her boobs. Like hell I was gonna reach in there and drag it out,” Mickey huffs as he finishes up his story. Well, maybe something they genuinely enjoy most of the time. Ian laughs and it’s Mickey’s favourite sound. It’ll always be Mickey’s favourite sound.

“You sure you’re not gay?” Ian asks skeptically, recounting all the times Mickey’s jokingly —and not-as-jokingly — denied the label.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mickey says, casting a mischievous glance his way, “My husband is, though.”

“Ohh, I see,” Ian says with a nod, casually changing the subject as he remembers Mickey’s earlier texts, “Oh hey listen, that was a really cute photo of you earlier, Mick. You’ve found your angles, I’m impressed,” Ian says, his voice dripping with mischievous sarcasm.

“Ohhh, thanks, man,” Mickey responds with a playful nudge to Ian’s ribs, “My beauty secret is this really cool thing my husband does called making me wait for ten fucking minutes.”

Ian raises his brows at him. Game on. He opens his mouth to respond in kind, but Mickey’s grabbing him by the upper arm and tugging him into a brick-lined alleyway. Ian grunts in protest, hands flying to Mickey’s biceps to steady himself before he’s shoved against the wall.

Mickey’s kissing him like he’s been thinking about doing all day while Ian’s out here being fucking Superman, like he’s been thinking about doing his whole life. He feels Ian’s smile against his mouth and his heart leaps in his chest and he loves him. He loves him. Mickey’s not sure how or when it happens, but suddenly Ian’s grabbing him and he’s being spun and his back’s being shoved against the wall so quickly his breath almost leaves him.

“Watch it, tough guy,” he breaths, and doesn’t mean a word of it. It’s the closest he’ll come to saying do whatever you want with me.

Ian huffs a laugh, threading his left hand into Mickey’s right as he studies his husband’s face. The cold metal of his wedding band brushes against his fingers and Mickey leans forward, capturing Ian’s lips in a warm kiss that reminds him of the dugouts, reminds him of when they were teenagers too skittish and childish and young to know what to do with the swelling in their chests every time they looked at each other. Ian’s the first to pull back, but he tugs on Mickey’s hand and leads them out of the alley.

“I’m hungry,” he says with a shrug by way of explanation when Mickey gives him an incredulous stare.

“So am I,” Mickey replies quickly, glancing pointedly downwards toward Ian’s crotch. Ian barks a laugh and rolls his eyes. He’s never said it out loud, but damn if he doesn’t love how fucking funny his husband is. No one really knows that about Mickey, he thinks. Distantly he remember’s Mickey’s “now they’re black and blue balls” in the hotel room that one night when they were teenagers. Damn if he didn’t think about that one and swoon over his protectiveness and Southside charm for a good week after. In the back of his mind, he remembers Byron’s list of complaints: he’s socially inept, he’s politically ignorant, he’s violent…

Meanwhile, Ian looks fondly at Mickey and knows that he’s funny, he’s thoughtful, he’s loyal, he’s his husband.

“The fuck you starin’ at?” Mickey snaps at him, an eyebrow raised halfway up his damn forehead.

Ian rolls his eyes, “Nothin’. What do you wanna eat?”

Ian sees the hint of a shy smile on his face as Mickey turns his gaze to the various restaurants they’ve been passing, “Uh, I’m kinda feelin’ Sheffield’s, man. That sound good to you?” He asks, looking back at Ian. The midday sun silhouettes his head, creating a halo out of his red hair and glowing against the hard edges of his face. Mickey remembers the round-faced, freckled boy at the convenience store with the floppy bangs and oversized flannels. Hell, he remembers him before that. He remembers third grade, and some loser with a mop of curly red locks and oversized front teeth leaning over and asking him for a pencil. Looking at him now with his wedding band catching the light, his chiseled jaw, and the lop-sided grin directed right at Mickey, he looks like fucking Adonis.

“…Mick?” Ian’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“Huh?”

“I was saying we’re here, Neil Armstrong,” Ian quips, “Come back to Earth, I wanna eat.”

“Ay, references like that are my thing,” Mickey says as Ian’s arm around his shoulder steers them toward Sheffield’s. They continue bickering as they walk in the restaurant, much to the server’s constant exasperation as she leads them to the patio. “Since when?” “Since fuckin’…always, man.”

They sit out in the Chicago summer sun, basking in the warmth of it together as they sip their drinks. Mickey, ever the loyalist, gets the cheapest beer on the menu after casting his eyes over the ludicrously long list of names, only a third of which he can pronounce. That’s what you get for going to a brewery, he figures absentmindedly to Ian. Ian gets one of the beers lower in proof, but he knows it’ll still bring him a pleasant buzz.

“If nothing else man, your meds make getting drunk economical as hell,” Mickey says to him with a breathy laugh as he hands the waiter their menus with a nod.

“You’re telling me,” Ian responds as he leans back lazily, comfortably spreading his legs in the chair as he grabs the sunglasses hanging off his shirt collar and slides them over his eyes. Mickey follows suit with his own pair of sunglasses and damn if the two of them don’t look good. Mickey changed out of his work uniform before coming to meet him and he’s wearing a pair of jeans that actually fit him, a black tank and blue short sleeve button up top that’s open and fluttering in the light breeze. He looks so relaxed and in his element, and Ian can’t help but wonder if this is what he used to wear in Mexico. For once the memory isn’t tinged with heartache; they’re here now.

“You look good,” Ian says, eyeing Mickey up and down from across the wooden picnic-like table.

Mickey flashes him a smile, “Says you,” he responds, and it’s so disgustingly sweet and domestic that he barely knows what to do with himself. He’ll never get used to this, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to. Ian smiles in return before Micky continues and leans forward, “I was thinking about getting my GED.”

“No shit,” Ian responds, mimicking Mickey in leaning forward across the table, a casual hand still around his beer, “What prompted that?” He asks before taking a sip.

Mickey shrugs, “I like my job now, but I was talking to Larry and he thinks it’d be a good idea. It’d give me better hirability or whatever, and…I dunno, I like my job now,” he repeats almost sheepishly, like he’s about to admit something terrible, “But I’ve been thinking about wanting…more, I guess?”

Ian smiles and reaches across to put a hand over the one Mickey has resting casually on the table, “Let’s make it happen, then.”

Mickey meets his eye for a brief moment with a shy half-smile that he hides by taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m serious, Mick. We can get some study books for you, Kev and V can look after the kids when you need the house to be quiet for two seconds so you can study…” he trails off, lowering his head slightly to prompt Mickey to meet his gaze.

“Alright, alright, Jesus,” Mickey finally says with a chuckle, turning his hand over to grasp Ian’s and rub his thumb over his knuckles, “Love you,” he adds quietly, but it’s not shy or embarrassed or scared; it’s just for Ian, and only Ian.

The two of them sit for what could be hours or minutes longer, chatting about their future plans like it’s nothing but it means fucking everything to both of them. Neither of them had ever really let themselves dream of a future like this. Whenever Ian’s mind had wandered to thinking of moments like this, of sentences like “Kev and V can look after the kids”, he’d dismissed it as the wishful thinking of a manic episode. “Fucked for life” had practically been Mickey’s life mantra. They share a house, they share food, they take turns making dinner, they have monthly goddamn traditions that include sunshine and drinks and risky kisses in alleyways.

They stay at Sheffield’s far longer than they had originally intended as the waiter informs them there’s live music that evening. So they stay, both buzzed on their beers and drunk on happiness and sun and music, sharing insults and laughs, basking in the comfort and familiarity of each other’s presence as the sun casts an orange glow over the Chicago skyline.

[defensemechanism]

Part 3

The booming sound of the door being thrown open woke you from a feverish sleep.You blinked rapidly trying desperately to clear the fog of the hot wet dream you’d been having.

Negan’s eyes narrowed at the sight of your flushed face.He cleared his throat. “I apologize for losing my cool with you earlier.Believe it or not, I didn’t intend to scare you shitless.”

His gaze shifted from your wide-eyed stare to the torn jeans and t-shirt you were wearing.

“I fell asleep” You admitted, looking down at your outfit as well.The eery sense of dejavu made your mouth go dry.

Aggravation rolled off of him in waves.

“You were thinking about him.Weren’t you?” The sharpness of his tone made you wince.

“No, I wasn’t.”You hated that your voice got higher when you were nervous.If you could hear it he certainly would and that rankled.

“I can’t stand being lied to.”

“I wasn’t thinking about Simon!” You insisted.

A growl of frustration escaped his throat.

“You’ve been lying ta me from the moment you met me.”

“Lying about what?!” You demanded.

“Flirting with me, teasing me, leading me on when you’ve been fucking Simon for God knows how long!”The words tore through his pride and out of his throat, unbidden.

Your cheeks warmed, a blush covering them.

Everyday spent being a Savior had created in you a strong resentment towards Negan.On the really bad days,you were convinced you hated him ardently.You had, in fact, become Simon’s lover over a glass of whisky and a mutual hate of Negan.You winced.You had known Negan’s interest in you was becoming more serious.Yet you still slept with Simon.Worst of all a part of you had gotten satisfaction out of knowing how furious Negan would be if he ever found out.

“You know better than to disrespect me,yet you very publicly disrespected me.You know damn well that nobody gets laid around here without my say so, yet you took a trip to fuck town anyway.”

You nodded soberly and allowed him to pretend that he hadn’t slipped up, that you hadn’t heard the hurt in his tone.

“You are going to have to pay for what you did.”

Every muscle in your body tensed as Negan reached out and took your chin in his hand, his toffee colored eyes searched yours, the heartbreak visible like a gaping wound in their depths.

“How exactly do you suggest we do this?”

You could hear what he was truly saying, he didn’t want to get violent with you.He didn’t know what to do with you.He couldn’t let the insubordination stand not if he wanted to keep his people in line.

“Humiliate me.” Your voice was a hushed whisper.

“What?”The bewildered expression on his face made you wish you hadn’t spoken.

“Humiliate me, publicly.” You found yourself saying, “Make it clear that you’re punishing me for breaking your rules.”

His sharp intake of breath made you flush with pleasure.Damn him for understanding.

He licked his lips, his dark gaze stuck on your face.

“You’d like that.Wouldn’t you?”

With a shuddering breath, you admitted that you would.

“Being punished isn’t something you aught to enjoy.” He was toying with you now.

“You are the only one who would know I was enjoying it.” You swallowed nervously.

“Are you suggesting, that I get to have my cake and eat it too?”

“This might be the one situation, where you can,Yes.” You swallowed nervously.

“Hmm...” His expression became guarded.He let his hand fall from your face and stepped away from you. “That’s not bad...”Negan scratched at his scruff, contemplatively. “It’s a fitting punishment, for your disrespect toward me this morning.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

“But what are we going to do about you fucking Simon?” His brow lifted in challenge.

“Uuugh, nobody knows that I slept with him.”

“I know.”

“It shouldn’t matter!I’m not your girl!”

“Aren’t you?”His brow furrowed.

You crossed your arms over your chest feeling completely justified.

“Let me see if I can clear up this misunderstanding for you.Every time you come around me you start swinging your hips like a damn cat in heat.You have been puttin’ me on with your’ maybe i’m flirting, maybe i’m not juvenile bullshit,but it was flattering.When I made the first move-“

“Askin’ me to become a wife is not making a move!”

He gave you a look of reproach, you quieted.

“I made the first move by inviting you into my bedroom.What did you do?You sat there and told me in that sexy as fuck voice of yours about every man you’ve messed around with...in detail and not once did I get so much as a kiss goodnight.”

Oh God You winced.

“After a torturous for-fucking-ever, I think, what is it I’m missing here?What do I have to do to get a taste of this warm Y/n-ey goodness she keeps boasting to me about?And then I say to myself, self,there’s only one thing she could be holding out for,one luxury you haven’t offered her, yet.”He paused glancing at you meaningfully.

He wasn’t wrong.You realized. Negan easily read the guilt on your face and gave a long suffering sigh.

“So I go to you with my little heart in my hands and you shut me down stone fucking cold.” He was laying it on real thick.”I won’t lie to you.I was real pissed off when I went lookin’ for you. I mean, you turned me down out of nowhere and had the audacity to smile while you did it.”

You covered your face with your hands in shame.

“Imagine for a second, after everything you had already done to me,just how shitty it felt to find out you were having sex with another man the entire time.”He gently pulled your hands away from your face.

“I deserve an apology, an explanation,and some kind of retribution.Don’t you think?”

No witty response came to mind.You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I was...” You looked down at his hands, holding yours. “The way I get when I’m with you isn’t part of some plan of seduction.I’m attracted to you,but you aggravate me.” You bit your lower lip as you tried to decipher the motive behind your own actions.

“I aggravate you?” He prompted when you stayed quiet for too long.

“Yes.” You affirmed. “You infuriate me, but you look real damn good doing it.”

He chuckled.

“I don’t understand why I want you,but I do.” You said candidly.

“I know why I want you.” He intoned earnestly.

“Why?”

“Because you are a smart, stubborn, beautiful, curvaceous woman that doesn’t give a shit about what I have to offer her.”

You gazed up at him beaming at the compliment.His smile widened.

“Why did you turn down my proposal?”

“To keep each of us safe from the other’s wrath.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“If you were my husband, I wouldn’t be able to promise the same.”

“Because you’re the jealous type?”

“Not only am I the jealous type, I am also the very short tempered type.”

“What if I promise never to piss you off?”

“That is not a promise you can keep.”

“Okay, what if I promise to try not to piss you off?”

“Negan.” You sighed incredulity in your tone.

Without breaking eye contact, he got down onto one knee. Good Lord you had to be dreaming. He wasn’t looking at you like that.You had to be imagining the unabashed adoration in his eyes.Negan hadn’t ever looked at you like you were precious to him.

You scrambled away from him so quickly it left you dizzy.

“Y/n?”His voice was laced with concern as he reached out for you. His expression anxious.

Hallucinating. I’m hallucinating. You told yourself and practically threw yourself the two and half feet into the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you and turned to the mirror.Your fear laden reflection stared back at you.A knock at the door behind you made you jump.

“Can I come in?” He asked already opening the door.

You spun around to face him.Nowhere left to run.You thought maddly.

Your breathing was heavy with the weight of your fear.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.Are you alright?”His hand caressed your cheek gently.

Your mouth opened and closed twice in an attempt to speak, but you didn’t have any words.

Hazel eyes were tight with worry, his lips parted as he began to speak,but you interrupted him with a kiss.

He was still at first, letting you kiss him however you saw fit, as he processed that this was happening.Before he knew it he was kissing you back. His lips molding to yours, his hands in your hair.The tip of his tongue ran over the roof of your mouth.You gasped.As soon as you could distinguish the taste of him, you knew you would never forget it.He sucked on your tongue coaxing a moan from you.Soon Negan had you pinned against a wall, one leg hiked up and attempting to encircle his waist.His hips were pressed up against yours, his erection rubbing against the apex of your thighs. “This is a hell of a thing to be doing with a man you’ve turned down twice.” He pointed out to you.

Your panting breaths matched his.You would be lying if you said your panties weren’t wet.

He pressed hungry opened mouth kisses to your neck.You tugged at his white t-shirt not caring that you might hate him nor that he might be in love with you, simply needing to have him much closer to you.

“Ladies first.” He laughed huskily against your throat.

You reached for the hem of your own top and pulled the faded grey thing off of you tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

“Marry me” Negan murmured between kisses. “I’ll give you my whole life and anything the fuck else you want.”

“Take off your shirt.” You directed plaintively.

“Yes, mam.” He removed it immediately.

You reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, the near stretch less material loosened around you.

His hands pulled the straps down and off.

The look of longing on his face as he took in the sight of you made you blush.

“You are so gorgeous.” He said reverently and your breath caught in your throat.

The awe and desire he felt for you were plain in his expression.

“I don’t want to do this here.”He groaned.

“The shower.”You suggested pressing ever so close.

“Damn Baby, You sure?”

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his shoulder.

“Yes.”You traced his collarbone with the tip of your tongue.

A shiver of pleasure went through him as you continued to travel down the length of his body. You stopped at the edge of his pants.

“God help me.” He uttered as he watched you go down on your knees.You reached up and unbuckled his belt then undid the button of his pants.You dragged the zipper down slowly, anticipation making you feel like a live wire. Your hand fisted into the material as you made to pull his pants down.

“Stop!” Negan’s hand encircled your wrist.

You flinched startled by his exclamation. Slowly, you let go of the material and tilted your head back to look up at him.

He grimaced at the uncertainty on your face.

“Come-come on up here.” He reached down to you and you accepted his help.

“Who the hell turns down a blow job?”You half whined half laughed.

“A man that knows his own weaknesses.” He grinned.

You smiled back and undid your jeans.His eyes followed your movements as you stepped out of the denim and pushed your panties off your hips. He surprised you by bending to slide your panties the rest of the way down your legs, his fingers tips brushing your thighs, your calves, your ankles. “So damn beautiful.” He said softly and half threw onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

You cried out in surprise as he left the bathroom.

His hearty laughter filled you with warmth.

Negan tossed you onto his bed playfully.

“Where were we?” He murmured taking his pants the rest of the way off.

He kneeled at the foot of the bed. In your eyes he found a voracious hunger he hoped he could satisfy.Negan pressed feather light kisses to your hips. His hazel eyes gazed into yours before he leaned in and lapped at your pussy.

You gasped in delight at the intense feeling of pleasure. He smirked up at you obviously pleased with your reaction. His hands firmly gripped your hips as he adjusted his position. He lapped at your wet heat eagerly. You were a drift on a sea of pleasure. Long lingering strokes of his tongue made you tremble.You fought the urge to grind yourself against his tongue. He sucked at your clit and you cried out.

“Negan, please”You felt the breath of his chuckle against your inner thigh.

He gazed up at you, licking your juices from his top lip.

“Please, what?” He was entirely too pleased with himself.

“S-stop” You echoed his earlier command.

He, however, could see the uncertainty in you.

“Are you sure you want me to stop? You really seem to like what I was doing...” he pressed watching you.

You cleared your throat trying to gain some semblance of control.

“I do like what you’re doin’.”

He smirked at you and flattened his tongue against your clitoris.

A hiccup of pleasure escaped you. His tongue delved deep, taking you to just the right place.You felt yourself slipping, getting a little more desperate as the intensity of the sensation increased. His tongue drew a line from your entrance to your sensitive bud. Your breath caught in your throat. With one last stroke he sent you flying so high up you were seeing stars.

You were barely aware of him kissing his way back up your body.

“Y/n” He breathed kissing the side of your face, your cheekbone, your brow.

His ridiculously handsome face came back into focus.

“Marry me” Negan whispered.

You said, “Yes.” and in that moment you didn’t care if it didn’t work out. Tonight you had Negan and that was exactly what you wanted.You threw you arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him.

He kissed you gently with a sweetness you didn’t know he had.

His ragged breathing did not escape your notice.You trailed one hand down his chest, then lower until you reached his erection. Your hand wrapped around his shaft giving him a few slow pumps.He moaned leaning into your touch. He watched you through heavy lidded eyes as you stroked long and slow.Negan’s hands roamed your body, caressingly before settling at your hips.

He put his long fingered hand over yours, leading it onto his shoulder.

“Hold on to me.” He told you.Negan reached down and directed your leg up as high as you could get it.

He kissed you hard.You gasped as he buried his length in you. A sense of relief and delicious fullness washed over you.Being entangled with him like this felt right.He withdrew slowly and sank in again.You had expected fast and rough from him.What he gave you was languidly decadent.You were drowning in each other. Enthralled by the sincere connection between you.You were losing pieces of yourself to the love in his whisky eyes.He was giving pieces of of himself to you in every kiss.

You called his name with abandon as the tide of your orgasm pulled you into a place of immense pleasure and emotion.The clenching of your wet heat brought him to his peak.The sound of your name repeated hoarsely in his low voice had you clenching around him again.

He kissed your jaw and neck, lovingly bringing you onto your side with him. Negan took you into his arms.Feeling safer than you had in years, you snuggled into his embrace and let yourself fall into a deep and satisfying sleep.