Tumgik
#a.u.gust
darthvaders-wife · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
AUgust DAY 12 - 50's ❤
My second art for challenge by @gallavichthings , and I was in a hurry so much😣👀
431 notes · View notes
suzy-queued · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
@gallavichthings
A.U.gust day 4: Teachers Mr. Gallagher and Mr. Milkovich would like to see you after class.
Full gallery here | Prompt list here
90 notes · View notes
callivich · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
31 ways we never meet 💗
31 different AU fics for A.U.gust - thanks to @gallavichthings for running this challenge!
My final word count is - 42,441 👀 which I can’t quite believe! Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, left kudos, commented and reblogged! It means so much to me and I’ve so enjoyed writing and sharing these! It was a very interesting and rewarding challenge and I’m happy to have completed the whole thing because I wasn’t sure if I would be able to do it.
As I’ve said, these are all one-shots that I will not be continuing. I do have a few thoughts about certain ones so please feel free to send me an ask if there’s any you’d like to know more about - but like I said, they’ll just be random thoughts not fics. But…please do feel free to use any of the fics as inspiration/prompts or remix them! 💖
67 notes · View notes
andthatisnotfake · 10 months
Text
The Multiverse of Gallavich: Noir Detective
Ian watches his new client through the cigarette smoke, the dim light shining in the blue eyes of the stranger.
“Let me guess… You’d like me to follow your wife?”
When he took this job as a private investigator, he expected it to be more… exciting. All he’s done so far, however, was follow possibly cheating wives of jealous husbands. Not that Ian would tell — not his business dictating who should sleep with whom. 
“Brother,” the client answers. “Ain’t got a wife.” He looks at Ian with unveiled interest and smirks.
This has suddenly become a very interesting case, indeed.
@gallavichthings
12 notes · View notes
howlinchickhowl · 10 months
Text
I'm back, with a little belated dirty ditty for pornstar day, i wouldn't read this one at your desk pals. @gallavichthings 👋
Your Sweet Thing is Wreckin' Me seventeen - pornstar
He’s hotter in person. If that’s possible. Which it apparently is. You wouldn’t believe it was. But it is. He is. Way hotter, actually, than however many hours of videos Mickey has watched have allowed him to comprehend.
He’s hot. Is the bottom line. Mickey feels like his mouth is simultaneously watering and dry. They are posed together on the bed, still fully clothed in jeans and t-shirts and socks. Boots lined up neatly together by the door.
Ian’s big arm is resting around Mickey’s lower back, fingertips grazing at the skin of his hip just under the hem of his shirt in little drags that are making Mickey quiver. His other hand is covering Mickey’s knee, his whole knee just swallowed up under Ian’s massive palm, warm and dry and possessive.
It’s for show, of course. They’ve only just met, have only just exchanged names and sti test results before settling in, Ian wrapping himself around Mickey at the director’s request, and Mickey more than happy to be wrapped around.
It’s for show, but it’s not entirely fake. Ian’s effect on Mickey is not insubstantial and Mickey is sure he hadn’t imagined the hungry once over Ian had given him when they’d swapped papers before, pupils widening, glistening tongue slipping out to brush over a plush bottom lip. He’s pretty confident that Ian doesn’t hate the way he looks.
Ian confirms as much when the director starts asking them their warm up questions, a hallmark of HGF that lends an air of authenticity to the scenes and is a huge part of their popularity. What’s Ian’s type? Does he like the look of Mickey? What is he excited about most? Dark, rough, smaller than him, yes definitely, and eating Mickey’s ass, respectively.
Mickey’s own questions, yielded similarly Ian-focused answers, turning his head to look into the guy’s eyes and getting lost in the warm musky smell of him and the feel of his fingers gripping at Mickey’s hip.
And then they are kissing, and grabbing, and groping, and Mickey almost forgets the director and the camera-guy are there, except that the director asks them to move a certain way or switch positions.
Ian makes good on his promise to eat Mickey’s ass, spends a little too long down there despite the director urging him to switch out, just holds Mickey by the hips and goes to fucking town and Mickey spasms his way through nearly coming, finally reaching back and grabbing at Ian’s hair to get him to let up.
He gets to wrap his lips around Ian’s fucking megalith of a cock, even more mouthwatering up close and in person than on his screen at home, and he thinks he does a pretty good job judging by the way Ian’s hips keep jolting and his thighs shake under Mickey’s hands until Ian grabs him, basically by the ears and pulls him up into a mind-bending kiss that has Mickey so turned around he barely even notices that Ian has slathered him in lube and shoved a trio of thick freckled fingers inside of him until he pulls them out and replaces them with the main event.
Ian’s a pro, so it’s not exactly a scramble to the finish line, but Mickey’s quite proud of how franticly he seems to be pounding into him, how he seems determined to cover every inch of Mickey’s skin with his own even though the director keeps asking him to pull up and give the camera a little room. He does it, but he always ends up back in full contact mode, hands gripping at Mickey’s hips and shoulders and hands and face, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until he pulls away, pulls out with a deep groan and blows his load all over Mickey’s chest and stomach and cock.
He falls down next to Mickey, bringing him off with one hand while threading the other through Mickey’s hair and pulling him into an incongruously tender kiss. They kiss while Mickey comes and into the afterglow, pulling apart to laugh when the director finally calls cut.
That was a hell of a ride, Mickey thinks to himself, laying on the bed catching his breath for a minute while Ian and the director shoot the shit. He’ll never watch another Ian video the same way again, maybe he’ll never watch another one, worried they’ll pale in comparison now that he’s had the full sensory experience. He gives himself a moment of sadness to mourn the death of some of his favourite jerkoff material.
Turns out though, once Ian has pulled him into the shower for a thorough rub down and a real-world fuck, he doesn’t need to worry about it.
91 notes · View notes
gallawitchxx · 10 months
Text
A.U.gust 2023 | DAY SIXTEEN — Soulmates
thanks to @gallavichthings for hosting! 🥳
“You really don’t see it?” Ian says, his voice rising with desperation.
Lip shakes his head. “There’s nothing there, Ian.”
Except that there is! A thin, red string loops around Ian’s left hand ring finger; the end of which trails out the back door of 2119 N Wallace, and disappears into the night.
“Don’t wait up.”
He barely registers Lip’s warnings, his heart racing like a hunter gaining on its prey. Ian’s heard of this before, knows what awaits him on the other end, but—no fucking way…
Mickey Milkovich stands on his porch, wrapped in disbelief and red thread.
106 notes · View notes
squirrel-fund · 10 months
Text
A.U.gust 2023 • Day 9 • College
A huge thank you to @gallavichthings for hosting!! 🧡
[This started out as just a graphic of Mickey's door, and then this happened...]
•••
Tumblr media
•••
"Excuse me. Could you tell me where to find-"
"Do you know-"
"Would you mind help-"
Ian freezes among the sea of college students that pass by, ignoring him as if he were invisible.
Why didn't he take the advice of his older siblings and gotten here earlier? Now, he could feel anxiety pooling in his chest as fear sped up his heart rate. His first day at college and he's already fucking up. Damn, what if Frank had been right? What if he was just a mistake, a waste of space.
"Hey, you okay?"
Ian focuses on the female voice in front of him. Finally, someone willing to help him.
"I think... I'm fucking lost."
"Here on campus, in life, or both?"
He lets out a relived laugh. "Definitely both."
"Okay." The girl repositions her bookbag on her left shoulder and grins at him. "We'll tackle one thing at a time. Can't find your dorm?"
"Am I that obvious?"
"You look scared to death." She laughs before softly punching him in the shoulder. "Come on, I know someone who can help. I'm Mandy, by the way."
Ian can't help the relieved smile that blooms across his face as he follows his new savior across campus. "Nice to meet you, Mandy. I'm Ian."
<><><>
"So, Ian... you single?"
"Oh, uhm... well, kinda."
"Kinda? What the hell does that mean?"
This was the moment that Ian had obsessed about. To be out and proud on campus or be okay with hushed hookups in some random closet. To gay or not to gay was the question he desperately needed to decide an answer to. So, why not give it a shot with a helpful stranger.
"I'm single. My... my ex... we broke up after graduation. He said he didn't want to be tied down."
Mandy snorts at his answer. "Well, your ex is dumb as shit. You definitely won't be single for long, trust me."
That was it. No judgmental frown, no shocked reaction. Ian just knows, right then and there that Mandy, whatever her last name is, will officially become his favorite person on campus.
At least for now.
As they continue through the halls, Ian starts to notice that the overly cheerful bulletin boards that introduce RAs to the students around them and encourage that friendship is indeed magic, have suddenly gone barren.
No bright colors, no badly drawn, well-known characters from television and movies. Just printed notices that announce floor meetings, things for sell, and other blunt, to the point directions. Ian has to chuckle when such a notice catches his eye. It reads: "GO TO FUCKING CLASS!"
Tumblr media
Nudging Mandy in the side, he points at the sign so she too can enjoy the ridiculous words that are trying, and probably failing, to be motivational.
But instead of laughter, all she does is roll her eyes. "I know. He's so fucking stupid. I swear if he gets kicked outta the RA program I'll kill him myself."
And Ian needs to ask the obvious question. Who the hell is 'he'? But before the question can even land on his tongue, Mandy is pounding on a door.
"Open up, dickbreath! Need your help."
She jiggles the doorknob, but it's apparently locked. Dickbreath must not be in, but Ian can see a note taped to the door that has an emergency number written on it.
"Maybe we should call the emergency number?"
Mandy pauses her assault on the door and raises an eyebrow at him. "What emergency number?"
Another glance towards the piece of paper and Ian can see that the number isn't a number at all. It's a word written middle finger to those on their side of the door.
With a shake of her head, Mandy goes right back to pissing the occupant off. She just keeps pounding on the door, making threats to whoever lives inside, while other residents start peeping their heads out into the hall, clearly interested in the disturbance but not enough to take action.
One audience member must know her, though. "Just fucking text him, Mandy, fuck! Some of us are trying to study. I mean-"
And it's during this rant that the door swings open and the hottest, angriest guy that Ian has ever fucking seen steps out into the hallway and instantly yells at the guy.
"Fuck off, James! You're a general education major. The fuck are you studying? Two plus two? Spoiler... it's fucking four."
It shuts the guy up instantly. Well, that and the laughter from his fellow peers.
But dickbreath isn't done with him.
"Why don't you go write a letter home to your mommy? Tell her you're still a virgin. Bet she'd be proud."
Ian can practically feel the anger radiating off of James when he slams the door closed. The rest of the students return to their rooms and Ian hears Mandy's brother clear his throat.
"Who the hell is this?"
"Ian. He's lost."
"No shit. He's with you."
She scoffs, crossing her arms and hitting him with a glare. "He needs help with finding his dorm room."
Dickbreath, or whoever, leans against the doorframe. "And? Take him to student services. S'not my job to play tour guide."
"Actually, it is. You're a resident advisor, Mick, so maybe you should, ya know... 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦 him where to go."
Ian senses tension. He hates tension. So, he trys to smooth things over. "It's cool. Nick is right. I should have-"
"It's Mick." Dickbreath... uhm, Mick says, sounding out the letter M like he's talking to a toddler. "Like milk, mad, money... and call me Mickey."
Mandy giggles. "Like the m-mm-mouse."
"Shut the fuck up."
Apparently, she's used to this because she just sticks her tongue out at him and pulls her phone out.
"Oh, shit, I gotta go. I'm late for class-"
"The fuck you are."
"-and the professor is a real bitch-"
"You should love her then."
"-so, anyway, yeah. Ian, Mickey. Mickey, Ian. Have fun!"
And just like that, she's gone.
<><><>
Mickey eyes Ian. Jesus, this dude's tall. He should be in a damn centerfold, not here, outside Mickey's room, looking like a fucking wet dream. And goddammit, he's gorgeous. Red hair, green eyes, freckles fucking everywhere. He's always been a sucker for freckles. They just demand attention. Quickly, he imagines them together, talking about absolutely nothing, a storm rolls in while Mickey traces those tiny specks with his fingertips.
Shit. Mickey needs to get laid real fucking soon because, he thinks, he just might need to kick his own ass for that thought.
"What building you in?"
Ian shrugs. "I don't know."
And that's annoying, but, "alright, what's your room number?"
"I don't... I didn't get that information."
Mickey grabs his hoodie off the inside hook beside his door and shrugs it on, closing it behind him. "That's weird. They usually give you that shit in orientation."
Ian doesn't say anything and Mickey takes a minute to assess this situation. New student, lost as fuck, track pants, backwards hat, duffle bag-
"Which you didn't go to because they scheduled your practice at the same time, didn't they?"
Ian's eyes go almost comically wide. "Yes! Why do they do that?"
Mickey shrugs, pushing through the emergency exit open in a way that doesn't trip the alarm, a skill mastered after weeks of running late for class. "Because they own you now. Scholarship?"
"How did you know?"
"Ain't my first year, Red. Plus, I'm supposed to be 'friendly' and 'relatable' as a chosen RA. I know how to spot fresh meat. Plus... you're dressed like a fucking billboard for both Under Armor and this school. No one does that unless they're throwin' money at them."
"Right. Makes sense."
Mickey nods. Of course it does. It's then that he realizes they're walking without a destination, and really, that's unacceptable. "So, do you know anything about where you might be staying?"
Ian stops walking, dropping his duffle bag to the ground before taking a knee and rummaging through it. And Mickey absolutely DOES NOT think of Ian on his knees for any other reason.
"Ah! Here! It says my resident advisor is Paula? Uhm... yeah, Paula Bitterman."
"Fuck off. Paula?"
"You know her?"
Yeah, Mickey fucking knows her alright.
"Listen man, I'm supposed to make you feel comfortable in your 'transition to educational success' but that bitch is fucking nuts. One dude, last year, apparently played his music too loud for her taste and to teach him a lesson she tied him to a chair, smeared raw ground beef on his body, and threatened him with a big ass German Shepard. Guy had nightmares for weeks."
Mickey doesn't need to add that the guy in that story had been him.
Ian groans with this new information. "Great. That's all I need on top of everything else. A psycho RA!"
And he feels bad. Mickey knows how much pressure new students are under, add in being on a scholarship and then top that with Paula Bitterman? Anyone would crumble under that.
Ian shouldn't have to though.
Mickey knew as soon as Mandy showed up at his door with Ian what his matchmaking bitch of a sister was doing. And even though he didn't seem to, he does appreciate her efforts.
But, he wanted to play this slow. That's why his ass is single 𝘯𝘰𝘸. He moved too fast. Got too comfortable and went and caught feelings for someone who did not feel the same.
And ever since then, for the past six months, Mandy has paraded every gay guy she meets across Mickey's path. Yet, none of them have interested him. Just a gray blend of guys who could be mistaken for anyone else.
But there's something different about Ian. From the moment that Mickey saw him in the hallway, he can tell this motherfucker clings to the shit he cares about.
Mickey sorta wants that someday.
So, fuck it. Here goes.
"You could... I don't know... I mean, if you wanted to..."
"If I wanted to what?"
Spit it out, Milkovich!
"You should sleep with me."
That was not what Mickey's brain had wanted to say.
"I mean... not together, obviously..."
Ian scrunches up his face, sarcasm extremely evident. "Obviously? You mean, you don't want to sleep with me?"
Mickey sighs. "What I 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 is that there's an open room on my floor this semester. I could probably pull a few strings. Get you moved."
"Really? You'd do that?"
"Sure, why not? You're a better option than whatever dumbass this place chooses for me."
Mickey knows he needs to try harder.
<><><>
Three weeks into the semester and Ian is obsessed with Mickey.
How could he not be?
Not only did Mickey get Ian moved to his building but he also, somehow, got him a card for the cafeteria to get free food. He had said it was because of Ian's "fucked up schedule" making it nearly impossible to grab a bite on days he has practice.
But, Ian likes to believe it's more than that.
Because Mickey comes to his games, he texts him at night to complain about James and his "bitchy attitude", he sends him funny memes before Ian has to run across campus to the two classes he absolutely dispises, and on the rare days when Ian comes in way too late from practice, muscles aching, exhausted beyond measure, Mickey always has some type of food waiting for him.
Yet, Ian doesn't say anything. He knows Mickey is gay. That's not the problem.
The problem is that Mickey is a RA. And, technically, all these gestures that he makes for Ian fall under the umbrella of a helpful RA. Through his rough, sorry not sorry, attitude, Mickey is a great RA and he actually gives a shit about his residents, even James.
So, yeah, Ian stays quiet about his infatuation for his RA.
Or, at least he does until October, when he's interrupted from his studying by a familiar, obnoxious banging on his door.
He yells out that it's open and just who he expects steps into his room.
"Hey, Mands. What's up?"
She kicks the door shut and glares at him. Ian feels a fear he's never experienced before slide down his back. "What-"
"Are you retarded?"
"Excuse me?"
"Are. You. Retarded?"
Honestly, Ian's a bit offended. "No."
Mandy crosses her arms and nods. "Then are you blind?"
Alright. That's it.
"Okay, Mandy. I don't know what your deal is but-"
"𝘔𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭!?" She practically screeches in his face. "My 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 is 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. My brother likes you. He does all of these things for you to prove it and show he's interested, and yet I find out that you're going on a date with some meat head from my chemistry lab this Halloween? What the hell, Ian?"
"Mickey? Hold on, Mickey likes me?"
"Yes! God, you are 𝘴𝘰 dumb!"
Ian agrees, perhaps he is. "I just thought he was doing all that stuff because he's my RA."
Mandy scoffs, but her posture softens. "My brother half-asses his RA responsibilities just enough so they won't pull it from him." She sits down next to Ian on his bed. "Feelings are hard for him. Whenever he experiences them or voices them, all he gets is disappointment. His ex, his so-called best friend from high school... our father..."
Ian stays quiet. He doesn't know much about Mandy and Mickey's dad but he knows enough to shut his mouth.
It's a solid minute and a half before she continues. "He deserves to have someone be kind to him for once. To love and to be loved in return. Doesn't everyone deserve that? At least once in this shitty life?"
He nods, because, yeah, everyone does deserve that. And Ian knows that let down. He knows how it feels, he knows how it tastes. How it can stew within you and ruin every good thing you come across.
"Yeah, of course."
"You remember back when we first met? When I asked you if you were single? If you had been in a relationship or straight, I would have taken you two floors down, where my boyfriend is a RA. Instead, I took your gay, single, lost puppy looking ass to my brother."
Ian doesn't know what to say to that. Imagine if his fear from that day had won out and he had never met Mickey? That thought alone physically pains him.
His cellphone lands in his lap. "Text him. Now. And cancel your other date. Halloween is Mickey's favorite holiday."
He just grins. "Yeah, I know."
As Mandy lets herself out, mumbling about how clueless men are, Ian opens up his and Mickey's message thread. He takes a deep breath and takes a leap. Hopeful he'll land safely in solid arms attached to tattooed knuckles.
He types:
"Are you free on Halloween?"
131 notes · View notes
sisitrip · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
Gallavich A.U.gust 2023, paging @gallavichthings
My submission for Day 2 - Surfer/Lifeguard - "Put Your Lips Together and Blow"
(A day late and a dollar short, so I'm serving up a little smickety-smut lol)
________________________ The tower is stifling hot but Mickey doesn’t care. A well earned lesson is about to be imparted. 
“Our agreement was that you’d visit and no matter what you saw, you wouldn’t interfere,” Ian murmurs as he works. 
Mickey rises on his toes as Ian slowly pours ice cold water over his back entrance. He huffs, bent over and burning inside while Ian holds him fast by the neck. Despite having Mickey spread naked over the wooden table in this seventh-level-of-hell lifeguard tower, Ian continues almost casually.
“I said that I get approached all the time, but as the lifeguard on duty, I pay it no attention,” Ian recites, ceasing his endless pour. “You said that it wouldn’t bother you if I got hit on while I worked and that you just wanted to spend the day on the beach.”
Mickey clenches as rivulets of icy water run down the back of his thighs. They tickle a cool path to his heels and distracts him from keeping his cheeks parted. 
“Wider, please,” Ian asks politely. 
Mickey spreads his cheeks again and jumps when Ian resumes the stream of water. 
“One fist fight later and here we are, cleaning sand out of your crack because I can’t wait to get home to fuck you,” Ian laments.
The water stops and Ian applies lube, prepping Mickey with fingers that feel blazing hot after his rinsing. His feet slip in the water as he writhes soundlessly on the table, breached by one, then two and finally, thankfully three fingers. Diamond hard, he has never been so ready to accept the consequences for his temper. 
The beachgoers right outside the tower laugh, play music and fill the air with their summer ruckus. But, here, in this small, square room, it was silent except the sound of Ian slicking himself up. A maddening sound. An engorging sound. 
“In less than a minute, I’m going to be losing my mind, so I’ll say it again, just to be clear,” Ian whispers, starting his slow slide inside. “My whistle stays in your mouth. I hear a single sound coming from it and I’ll put you away wet.”
Ian seats himself entirely inside and Mickey forgets the heat, the beach, even the roughness of the table supporting him. The fullness leaves him with the willpower for only two things.
Carefully gripping Ian’s whistle between his teeth and breathing through his nose.
As Ian’s jarring, yet delicious thrusts set about breaking down his will, Mickey begins to pray.
80 notes · View notes
jrooc · 10 months
Text
Heat Syncope
A.U.gust 2023 - Day 16, Soulmates, @gallavichthings
Here's a little something I whipped up this morning for A.U.gust.
---
It was mid-summer and hot as hell in Chicago. The heat had reached that peak where it just beat down on you, radiating off the concrete and making you feel like you were baking. It was making Mickey grumpy as hell.
Mickey being grumpy in the mornings (or in general) wasn’t exactly news, but it was especially bad today. He lit a cigarette and poured the freshly made coffee into a mug adding his three sugars and some cream, walking out onto his tiny balcony that a tiny table and two small chairs. He sat down in his usual seat. Ian usually sat in the other chair.
Normally by 9am he’d start to feel more human but his black mood just hung over his head. It wasn’t just the heat, if was being honest with himself - and he definitely wasn’t - it was that a certain redhead he’d recently started seeing had had to work the night before and got stuck at work. He'd had texted late the night before saying he couldn’t make it over. So Mickey had woken up alone and hot, his apartment feeling like an oven. A miserable empty stupid oven. He ignored the irony that his huge ginger.. whatever he was to him, ran hot and an extra body in his bed would only have made things hotter but he didn’t care. That redheaded asshole had wormed his way into Mickey’s life and bed and now he seemed to sleep terribly without him.
They hadn’t been dating that long.. dating.. fucking.. whatever. But Mickey felt like an addict. He felt totally outta control around the redhead. He wanted to be around him all the time. He said and did all these stupid soft things now, who was he even? He basically couldn’t say no to him. Would do anything for it. It was fucking terrifying. It always felt so big, like he’d jumped - or been pushed- off a cliff and was free falling. He kind of hated it. But also didn’t hate it at all.
Fuck. He shook himself. There was a tiny breeze on the balcony but no reprieve from the intense heat of the sun that was already picking up momentum this early in the day. He didn’t work until that night but didn’t know if he could stay in this apartment all day. His mind turned to Ian but he shook his head. That was it, he hated feeling like a little bitch. He was done. No more messing around with Gallagher. That asshole thought he could just come and go as he pleased? Probably already moved onto someone new. Maybe he didn’t even have to work? Maybe it was an excuse. Maybe he’d gone out to some bar. Mickey got madder as he sat there.
His phone buzzed.
Gallagher: Hey Mick, how’d you sleep? Sorry I couldn’t make it. The hospital was crazy busy last night.
Mickey read the message and he felt his resolve fall away a little. He put his phone down. He wasn’t going to answer.
Gallagher: I missed ya. Gallagher: It’s hot as fuck today. I think my brain is melting. Would you wanna go to the beach with me? I know it’s far but I don’t think I can’t stand the city today. Gallagher: I’ve never really gone to the beach, but I dunno. Thought you might come with me. 🤷 Gallagher: Probably not your thing but thought I’d ask.
Mickey swallowed hard. He knew Ian rambled when he was nervous. He reread the messages 3 times over.
I missed ya.
Ian missed him.
They’d only spent one night apart in days. His reflex was to reply with something that was snarky. Or call it gay. But he couldn’t stop rereading it. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been mad before. He saw the 3 dots appear again, probably meaning more nervous rambling from Ian was on its way.
Mickey: Calm your tits Gallagher. Fine I’ll go to the fucking beach with you.
The three dots disappeared and reappeared.
Gallagher: Ya?? I’ll bring towels and snacks. Do you think they sell snacks there? Wanna meet me at the L in 30 mins?
Mickey: Better bring some sunscreen. I bet your freckled ass burns like a motherfucker.
---
An hour and a half later Mickey found himself standing in freshly purchased bathers in a place he never really pictured he’d be.
At the beach.
Stood next to a man who in this moment he really wanted to fucking kiss. He looked up at Ian who was standing in his bathing shorts and a white t-shirt. He held a hand up to shield his sunglass covered eyes and took in the scene before turning and grinning at Mickey.
“It’s nice!” Ian decided. “It’s hot. And crowded.” Mickey countered. He felt nervous. He couldn’t swim and didn’t know how to tell the redhead that. Which made it even more ridiculous he’d said yes to this plan in the first place. Fucking Ian. But the water did look cool and inviting.
Ian grinned at him, “Okay Mickey. We just need to cool you down.” Mickey’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip when Ian grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the water, their towels safely stowed under an umbrella behind them. Mickey followed a few feet behind, looking down at where their hands were clasped. In public. For anyone to see.
Ian pulled them until their toes touched the cool water. Mickey felt the sweet relief of the coolness sweep up him and he did feel better. He felt like he’d been hot for days.
“Oh god that’s nice.” Ian groaned beside him, tugging him a step further into the water and not releasing his hand. Mickey felt his blood speed south at the sound.
“Not sure you can make sounds like that here, Gallagher. These shorts don’t leave much to the imagination.” He hissed back.
Ian looked at him, his grin growing even wider, an evil glint in his eyes. “Oh? You’re that easy to get going, Mick?”
“Well no one was in my bed this morning to suck my dick so I'm a little on edge.” He grumped.
Ian’s eyebrows lifted and he chucked. All sorts of amused by Mickey’s grumpiness. It kind of blew Mickey’s mind, while everyone else in the world seemed to fear him and his moods, Ian seemed to take it as an invitation.
Ian let go of his hand then, pulled off his shirt and sunglasses and tossed them on the beach. Winked at Mickey and then ran a couple steps and dove into the water.
Mickey stepped backwards, hands up to shield himself from the splash.
Ian surfaced, flipping his red hair back, water pouring down his head and strong shoulders when he stood up again in the waist deep water. He looked hot as fuck. If the cool water hadn’t been enticing, Ian in it certainly was.
“Come on in, Mickey, the water’s fine.” He called.
Mickey took another tentative step in and stopped, “Think I’m all good here, Gallagher. Cooling down already.”
Ian frowned, a thought crossing his face. He walked over to Mickey and reached out, putting his hands on the brunette’s hips.
“Can you swim, Mick? I didn’t think to ask.” He asked quietly so no one could overhear. Mickey didn’t know how he always seemed to read his mind. Also he was being so considerate, how was this guy real.
He swallowed and without thinking answered honestly, “No man, when would I had had time to go to a pool. Who woulda taught me? My asshole Nazi Dad?” His cheeks burned red.
Ian nodded, Mickey had told him a bit about it.
“Right!” He said, decided. “Guess you’re just gonna have to trust me then.”
“Wha-?” Mickey started to ask but Ian had already grabbed his hand again and was pulling him gently into the water.
“Come on, Mick. I promise I’ve got you. You need to cool down.” He stopped their plight and turned around, “Do you trust me?” He asked, suddenly sincere.
Mickey looked into those green eyes and couldn’t help himself, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. “Yeah, man, I trust you.”
“Good, come on then.” Ian said and pulled Mickey into the water.
When it got deep enough, Ian pulled Mickey towards him and made him wrap his arms around his neck.
Mickey couldn’t believe he was doing this in broad daylight with another man, but it just felt so good. Ian felt strong and his muscles hard in Mickey’s arms. Their chests pressed against each other, hearts beating against each other. The water was deliciously cool and refreshing, giving him a reprieve he hadn’t felt in days. He glanced around, there was no one near them in the water. He relaxed into it.
They floated together for a few mins, Ian’s long legs resting on the sand keeping them above water. Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian’s hips. Ian pulled him closer and nuzzled into his neck.
“Mmmm you smell good.” He mumbled. “I missed ya last night.” He said quietly. Mickey’s heart skipped a beat and then restarted at double the pace. He knew Ian could feel it with their chests pressed against each other under the water.
“Ya man, I, uh, missed ya too.” He mumbled back, the big feelings were back making his chest ache.
He didn’t get how Ian’d known. How he’d figured out exactly what Mickey had needed all day and made it happen. This wasn’t a sex thing, I mean the sex was fantastic but this was more. His heart felt like it was going to explode.
Ian pulled his face back and placed a chaste kiss to Mickey’s lips. He looked into Mickey’s eyes, an emotion shining there that Mickey knew was reflected in his. It felt too big, he didn’t feel ready to talk about it.
Ian opens his mouth to speak and closes it. Seemingly changing his mind.
“Wanna ditch work tonight? Just say fuck it. Stay around here, maybe get some tacos and beer?”
Mickey knows in that moment. Such a small thing. But it just hits him. He thinks he’s known for a while. But it’s in all the little moments of their day. Everything leading up to this moment.
Ian’s his soulmate.
36 notes · View notes
darthvaders-wife · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
AUgust DAY 31 - Free Day - Hercules ⚡ For challenge by @gallavichthings
271 notes · View notes
suzy-queued · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
@gallavichthings
A.U.gust day 15: Pen Pals Mickey didn't want to do this stupid do-good prison program in the first place. Then they made him write to a soldier?! There's no way this will last...
Full gallery here | Prompt list here
95 notes · View notes
callivich · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
Pornstar 🔥
A little remix of the hornygaythug/tumblr Mickey au. Dedicated to the wonderful @breedxblemickey 💖
Day 17 of Gallavich A.U.gust 2023  @gallavichthings
35 notes · View notes
mybrainismelted · 10 months
Text
ok, so this is my first publish gallavich fic - please go easy on me! A.U.gust Day 9 - College @gallavichthings
Ian is pretty sure he's never been this nervous in his life. The first day of College shouldn't be THAT big of a deal, right? But he's got butterflies he can't shake, and he thinks he might sweat right through his shirt before his first class is done.
"Breathe" he reminds himself as he searches for just the right seat - not too close to the front, not in the middle, and not too far back so he can't hear. Choosing a seat is serious business to the redhead.
Finally finding his perfect spot, he gets settled in and pulls out a notebook and pen. Finally taking some time to look around he feels his heart sink at the realization that everyone else seems to have fancy new laptops out and open. Shit.
"Ok, if I can have everyone's attention please?" he hears from the front of the room. "My name is Professor Micheals, but you can call me Brian. This is Mickey, my assistant. He will be available to answer any questions you may have."
Looking at where Brian is pointing, Ian feels his heart stop and then start racing at the sight of one of the most gorgeous men he has ever seen. Inky black hair, one eyebrow arched perfectly, and just a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth as he waves to the assembled class.
As the class moves on, Ian struggles to stay focused on scribbling notes as fast as he can, while his eyes keep wandering to see what Mickey is doing. Usually sitting and apparently paying attention to what Brian is saying, but occasionally Ian has to quickly avert his gaze when Mickey turns to scan over the students.
When the class finally ends, he scrambles to get out of the room, not wanting to risk giving himself away and causing problems for himself on the first day of class. This continues for the next few weeks, Ian unable to keep his eyes off Mickey in class, and spending his nights scolding himself for his ridiculous schoolboy crush. Unfortunately, there comes a day when Ian realizes he is going to have to talk to the man - they have a paper due, and he's pretty sure it has to be emailed. He's just not sure how to make that happen given his lack of access to any kind of computer.
After the next class he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and approaches the ever-so-delicious looking object of his nightly fantasies.
"Ummm, hi Mickey?" he mutters, not 100% sure he actually said it out loud. Mickey turns around and quirks that perfect eyebrow. "Yeah, hey Red, what can I do for you?"
Ian explains his dilemma, and that he needs some help figuring out how to get his assignment in on time. "Ok, yeah, I had that problem my first year too." Mickey explains "There's a laptop loan program through the library, but you have to sign up pretty early. Let's walk over there now and I'll show you how it all works, see if there is one available."
"Uh, yeah, ummm… sure" Is all Ian is able to stumble out as the shorter man packs up his stuff and turns to lead the way out of the room.
Mickey does his best to engage Ian in some small talk as they walk, obviously sensing that he is uncomfortable about something. As they talk, they are both surprised to realize that they are both from the South Side of Chicago - and probably knew a lot of the same people growing up. "Sure explains the no laptop thing" Mickey says as they approach the doors to the library "Not many from our neighbourhood can afford that kinda stuff when they first get here"
Unfortunately for Ian, as Mickey had suspected, there are no loaner laptops available for the next 2 weeks, which means Ian definitely can't get one in time to turn his paper in this Friday. "shit, shit, shit" he mutters, wracking his brain to see if there is a way he can scrape together the money to buy a used junker from someone and hope it works.
Mickey looks at him for a minute, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, and finally blurts out "look, I don't normally do this, but if you wanna come by my place on Friday you can use my laptop to type it up and send it."
"Yeah?" Ian whispers, completely overwhelmed by the offer. "are you sure? I can bring beer and pizza, I'll find a way to pay you back for this, I promise!" At that, he thinks he sees a flicker of something in Mickey's eyes, right before he winks and replies "Oh I'm sure you'll think of something, man"
Ian feels himself flushing, and can't help but think as he takes down Mickey's address and phone number that maybe, just maybe, College isn't so scary after all.
46 notes · View notes
howlinchickhowl · 9 months
Text
a.u.gust masterpost!
Man I had such a great time this month, my writing mojo really got reinvigorated, so many thanks to the tireless @gallavichthings for running this event, it was a real blast. I wanted to do a few other days but time is a cruel mistress! Thirteen isn't bad though I think.
I've rounded up all of my posts in a handy list if you missed any :)
one - noir detective - more than whiskey in mind
two - surfer/lifeguard - how to save a life
three - bodyswap - get your curse and get it on
four - teachers - to sir with love
seven - merpeople - there, on a rock majestical
eight - circus - shake some dust
nine - college - got me stuck on your face and your body
eleven - coffeeshop - thank you for the extra foam
fifteen - penpals - picasso baby
seventeen - pornstar - your sweet thing is wreckin' me
eighteen - robin hood - worth dying for
nineteen - sports - fuck the laX bros
twenty eight - time travel - like the corners of my mind
63 notes · View notes
gallawitchxx · 10 months
Text
A.U.gust 2023 | DAY THREE - Body Swap
thanks to @gallavichthings for hosting! 🥳
“Damn! So this is what it feels like to have a fuckin’ bratwurst swingin’ around down there?” Mickey proudly shakes Ian’s hips. 
Ian could explode. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now? Really?”
A cocked ginger brow. “You oughta be thinkin’ ‘bout it too.” A bite of a freckled lip. “On account ‘a you bein’ me.”
That’s interesting.
Ian—Mickey—focuses his frayed attention on that spot deep inside him. The one that likes it good and hard. A wave of want crashes through him.
“Alright, tough guy,” he drawls. “You wanna chit chat or you wanna get on me?”
64 notes · View notes
mmmichyyy · 10 months
Text
a.u.gust 2023 - day 4: teacher(s)
1.5k words of shop teacher!mickey & school nurse!ian @gallavichthings 🖤 posted on ao3 too!
Faculty meetings are–in Mickey’s opinion–the bane of his entire existence. Completely unnecessary, redundant, a total bore. Just send it in an email for god’s sake. Especially when the meetings are scheduled at the ungodly hour of eight on Monday mornings, an entire half an hour before he usually arrives at school. Well, twenty-nine minutes, to be exact - if the first class starts at eight-thirty and it takes him a minute to rush from the parking lot to the shop classroom, then he’ll show up right as the bell rings, not a minute more.
Except the new bright-eyed and bushy-tailed principal went to some new-age educational conference over the summer and came back brimming with ideas of bonding and connecting amongst faculty members. How important it was to foster a community and create an open forum and a safe space for communication–her words, not Mickey’s. 
As if any of the underpaid teachers give a flying fuck about any of that. None of them would've gone to the first meeting and continued to attend week after week without the bribe of free bagels and the not-so-subtle suggestion of possibly taking away the one good vending machine from the teacher’s lounge. The threat of losing easily accessible corn nuts and milk duds really was the reason why every person working at this underfunded Southside high school had to suffer through thirty minutes of mandatory torture every week. 
Mickey worked there for two years and never laid eyes on half the staff at the school or knew anyone’s name until these meetings. He stays in the shop classroom all day, makes sure none of the students drill a hole through their hand or cut themselves on a hacksaw, then goes home. But now, everyone from the basketball coach to the art teacher to even the goddamn janitor had to attend and endure the principal babbling about upcoming school events and ways to improve the school–like time and resources aren’t already limited as it is. 
What a colossal waste of time, Mickey grumbles to himself, as he strolls through the main doors of the school after smashing snooze multiple times on his alarm clock and begrudgingly getting his ass out of bed. 
At least his on-the-fritz coffee machine decided to work today, or else he may be prone to commit murder without caffeine this early in his system. 
But to Mickey’s luck, he doesn’t get two steps into the foyer before slipping on an invisible wet patch on the linoleum floor, crashing forward into what his mind registers for a split-second as a moving wall, which he practically bounces off of, if it's even possible to bounce off a solid surface. The impact causes him to stumble backwards and nearly collide against the glass trophy display case. 
“Fu– watch where you’re going!” 
“Oh shit, are you okay??” 
Mickey rolls his shoulders with a groan. Just as he’s about to unleash hell, he looks up to a pair of worried green eyes staring right at him. Turns out the walls aren’t out to get him - not this time at least - it’s a person. Not just any person, a man who is built like a fucking brick barricade with a firm taut body and fierce red hair that nearly causes Mickey’s jaw to drop in surprise.
“Uh…” Words. What are words? He didn’t hit his head, did he? Why can’t his mind form coherent thoughts?
Unaware of Mickey’s temporary brain daze, the redhead continues to ramble in an apologetic voice, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been blocking the entrance, it’s my first day and I’m a bit lost–”
“It’s fine,” Mickey mumbles, cutting the guy off. Not that he cares if he’s late to the faculty meeting, but he needs to not be here right now. But before he can make a quick exit–
“Do you know where the teacher’s lounge is?” 
Huh. A new teacher. With a body like that? Probably another meathead coach, Mickey thinks. To save his ego from continuing to make a fool of himself, Mickey wordlessly nods towards the east hallway, silently signalling the man to follow him. The man does, a bit too enthusiastically, much to Mickey’s chagrin.
Mickey hopes Clifford the Big Red Dog isn’t a talker. The teacher’s lounge is at the end of the hall around the corner and there’s only so much conversation Mickey can handle early in the morning. Especially after sustaining a possible phantom head injury. Especially after almost falling flat on his face in front of someone who looks like that.
But you know what they say about hope - it breeds eternal misery.
“Never thought I’d be back at high school,” the man chuckles. “But I saw the job posting online and thought, what the hell? Might be fun.”
Fun is definitely not the word Mickey would use to describe working at a high school. The very high school he dropped out from, actually. Life has a twisted sense of humour sometimes, but he’s made his peace with his current reality a long time ago.
“Are you a teacher here?” the man presses on.
Mickey grunts as a response. Quickens his pace, but the man doesn’t take the hint.
“What do you teach?” 
Only a few steps left... 
“Shop class.”
“Oh cool! I’m the new–” 
“There you are, Mr. Milkovich.” Ms. Tinsley, the principal, peeks her head out of the door to the teacher’s lounge. Looks behind Mickey and beams. “And Mr. Gallagher! I’m glad you’re here, I was starting to worry you might’ve gotten lost.”
Gallagher? Mickey furrows his brows. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but then again - half the Irish population in Chicago probably has the same last name. 
“I was, but then I bumped into Mr. Milkovich here and he led the way.” Gallagher flashes Mickey a grin, and Mickey tries to ignore the somersault flip inside his chest. “Hope I’m not too late.”
Ms. Tinsley shakes her head. “You’re just in time, I was just about to start the meeting.” She turns to Mickey. “Mr. Gallagher here is replacing Mrs. Farris since she’s gone into early retirement. Fell down the stairs and broke her hip, the poor thing. ” 
Retirement? Mickey doesn’t remember seeing any of the sports coaches being geriatric enough to retire. Or maybe he’s not paying enough attention to the stupid faculty meetings.
Seeing the confusion on his face, Ms. Tinsley adds, “Mrs. Farris, the school nurse.” 
A lightbulb clicks in Mickey’s head. Must’ve been the grouchy old woman with the Q-tip head and a permanent scowl on her face he used to see roaming the halls. He just assumed it was someone’s grandma who had gotten loose from the senior home and got her rocks off yelling at anyone in her way. Did the old bat fall down the stairs or was she pushed? The latter seems more plausible.
“Anyway,” Ms. Tinsley continues, “Mr. Gallagher here will be taking over as the new school nurse. I might get him to teach a couple health classes too, god knows these crazy kids need proper sex health education!” Both she and Gallagher laugh while Mickey cringes.
“I’d be glad to,” Gallagher replies with a smile. Glances at Mickey out of the corner of his eye. “Sex education is very important.”
No. Not today. Nope. Mickey slips past the principal through the door and quickly plops down on his usual seat in the back corner, silently praying the heat he feels under his skin isn’t reflective of how red his cheeks are. What the hell has gotten into him? 
And because the universe is fucking with him, the only empty seat left is directly beside him. Mickey stares straight ahead and pointedly avoids Gallagher’s gaze as the principal starts the meeting.
“First thing on the agenda: the school bake sale! Who wants to volunteer?”
“Hey,” Gallagher whispers in a low voice, so only Mickey can hear him above the surrounding chatter, “my first name’s Ian by the way.” Leans in close, hot breath fanning Mickey’s ear, sending a shiver down Mickey’s spine. “Maybe you can show me around sometime?”
Mickey should ignore him. Ian. Pretend to be fascinated by fundraisers or pep rallies or whatever the fuck Ms. Tinsley is droning on about. Definitely not focus on the hopeful tone in his voice. Tell Ian to fuck off and leave him alone, like everyone else in the school has learned to do.
But maybe Mickey woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Or the right one? Or he’s in an alternate reality? Or maybe someone drugged his coffee this morning? 
Or maybe it’s his lucky day?
Because against his better judgement, Mickey angles his head to the side. Pretends to be nonchalant and shrugs in agreement. Tries to bite down his own smile from seeing the way Ian’s face entirely lights up, all eager and warm and full of light.
Maybe eternal misery isn’t the only outcome to spring from hope.
51 notes · View notes