#mickey's hand on ian's chin

[ryantryinx]

" Fuck, fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!! " Mickey yelled blowing of some much needed steam from the day. It was one thing after another today and if he had one more minor inconvenience in his day he swore to god he would murder someone. Kicking off his shoes as he mad his way into the apartment, hearing them thunk against the wall. The older man bee lined for the fridge as he stripped off his uniform along the way. Grabbing a can of old style he popped the tab taking more than half the can down in one solid drink. The past few days already weren't great. Ian was in a funk, stuck in bed on a pretty bad low. He hated watching his husband in that state, it was something he couldn't fix for Ian and that broke him the most. So leaving for work that morning was already hard. Pressing a kiss to the redheads cheek, brushing back some stray hairs that clung to his damp forehead. Letting his husband know he was leaving and that Carl had planned to stop over for lunch. ( Carl had offered knowing Mickey needed to get back to work. He'd already taken the first two days off. ) Then it was one thing after another. A client being pissy, the lid on his coffee broke causing him to spill his 4$ coffee. He got behind on the last two drops and just as his day was ending, the rigg started smelling like it was burning oil. Pounding the rest of his beer he quickly rubbed at his temples trying calm the anger that had been boiling over just seconds ago. He was pissed and tired and the only person who could make him truly feel better wasn't up to his usual self. Taking a deep breath he moved down the hall into the bedroom. Laying in bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin, emerald eyes peered over as the door opened. " Hey....." Mickey called softly happy to see there seemed to be life coming back to the eyes of the man he called husband. " Carl said he got you to eat half a sandwich for lunch. " Crossing the room the shorter man tossed his body on the edge of what was actually Ian's side. Since the freckled faced man liked to take his side when he was having an episode. Ian nodded softly his arm extending out of the blankets to place his hand on Mickey's thigh. As if the redhead could see the weight of the world on his husbands shoulders in the very moment. " Long day? " The taller man croaked out, his voice small from lack of use. Letting out a long breath he didn't even know he was holding in Mickey lay back on the bed. Letting his head fall to the side to look at his husband he moved his smaller tattooed hand over the freckled pale one. " 'ts better now...."

#mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich #shameless #little drabble #ryantryinx #husbands #headcanon #I had a rough day #Inspired my drabble

[doodlevich]

DTIYS: Mickey + Puppy 🐶

For dear Harvey’s challenge!❤️ @mikhailoisbaby

I got inspired by Mickey and the dog and wondered how Ian would fit in to the whole things… and then a wrote a little au meetcute fic about it for good measure :-)

🔽🔽🔽

“The fuck is wrong with that thing?”

Ian glances over his shoulder and in doing so almost trips over a tree root sticking out of the ground.

Standing in front of him is a gorgeous, dark haired man, sporting blue eyes that basically pierce Ian’s fucking soul. He’s wearing various shades of black and the look of disgust curling up his sharp features tells Ian that the guy wouldn’t like it much if he was referred to as ‘slightly petite’.

But he is, though. Just Ian’s type.

“What’s w-wrong with what?” Ian sputters, at a loss for words as he takes it all in. Then he remembers he happens to be holding a shivering chihuahua wrapped in a pink puffer doggie vest and pink booties to match.

Goddamnit Tami.

“Oh? The chihuahua?” Ian chuckles once the pieces all click. “She belongs to my sister-in-law. I’m dog-sitting while she and my brother visit her family.”

The dark haired stranger snorts. “If you can call that a dog.” He reaches down to pat his own animal on the head, and Ian realizes he was so caught up with the man than he didn’t even notice the pit-bull by his side. “Looks like it’s one wrong move away from being lunch-meat.”

Ian shrugs. It’s a fair point.

“Yeaaaah, Penelope it’s one for picking fights.” The Chihuahua wriggles in the crook of his arm and yips at the mention of her name.

The man snorts. “Penelope? Jesus Christ, man.”

“Fitting right?” Ian smiles at the pitbull’s blissed our expression as the mystery man scratches below the chin. “What’s his name then?” He nods towards the larger dog. “Monster-mutt? Grave-digger? Maximum Destruction?”

The man laughs, a low rumble, and it’s the best thing Ian’s ever heard with his own two ears.

“First off, stop listing names of fuckin’ monster trucks.” He snorts. “And second, her name is Lia.”

Ian laughs along. “And you’re over here busting Penelope’s balls for having a cutesy name?”

The man shrugs. “She already had a name when I adopted her from the rescue shelter. Not gonna confuse her by re-naming her.”

“She’s a rescue dog, huh?” Everything Ian learns makes him want to know more about this guy. “Mind if I ask her owner’s name?” Ian can’t tell if he’s being smooth or coming across as a dumbass, but the man seems amused regardless.

“Me? Name’s Mickey.” He extends his hand to shake, and before Ian takes it he notices the knuckle tats- yet another factor to drive him wild. “How about you? Got a name?”

“Ian.” Ian shakes his hand firmly, and it feels like more than a mere formality. He swears he’s not imagining it- there’s a spark when they touch, and Ian realizes he can’t waste an opportunity to change his life for the better.

“You up to anything after this?” Ian asks, projecting all the confidence he can muster. “I know a bar about a block from here that’s dog-friendly…”

Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment Ian wonders if he’s reading the signals wrong. Then a grin appears on Mickey’s face.

“You askin’ me on a date, Ian?”

Ian’s face heats up, but he’s giddy, something he hasn’t felt in years. “Maybe. If that’s what you wanna call it. Kinda just want to get to know you better, Mickey.”

“You’re in luck then, cuz I love a good mid-day beer.” Mickey sets off down the park path, motioning for Ian to follow him. “And a drinking buddy wouldn’t be so bad, either.”

It takes Ian a moment to realize that this is Mickey’s way of saying ‘yes’, but once he does, he’s jogging to catch up, Penelope bouncing in the crook of his arm.

Something tells Ian he’s just made the best decision of his life.

#dtiys #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fanart #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #shameless fanart #digital art #gallavich fic

[mmmichyyy]

hey michelle, 19 or 91? have some fun :)

#91: "tell me you need me."

"say it."

"fuck you," mickey spits out. "i ain't sayin' shit."

"fine." ian shrugs. spins the knife between his fingers, the silver blade glistening under the moonlight. "your funeral."

the zipties around mickey's wrists and ankles dig deep into his skin, slowly cutting off his circulation. he's running out of time - the rest of the mafia will be back soon, and his only way to escape is the ginger motherfucker in front of him.

"three words, milkovich. three words and you're free."

the smug asshole. if he doesn't die tonight, he's going to kill his partner.

ian presses the tip of the knife under mickey's chin, forcing him to look up.

"tell me you need me," ian whispers.

the sound of footsteps grows louder.

fuck it. fuck it all.

"ineedyou," mickey mumbles.

ian cups his hand around his ear. "can't hear you."

"oh for fuck's sake–i need you, okay gallagher?" mickey yells. "now are you going to cut me free or not?!"

ian grins, and mickey knows his partner is never going to let him live this down.

#thanks gigi for the prompt <3 #gallavich ficlet #gallavich fic #gallavich #ask game #my words #michy ficlet

[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.

#mickey having come such a long way but still occasionally feeling insecure in moments of intimacy is my roman empire #i know these type of fics have been written 738373x #but like i eat them upppoo #so here’s one more #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless #gallavich fic #gallavich fic rec #lupeloto ficlets

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

67 for the drabble challenge:>>

Hey Jade! Thanks for asking, hope you don't mind that i turned your bloody ask into something a little more domestic

67. “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

Ian had just run out of Lip and Tami’s housewarming party for more soda, he’d barely been gone five minutes but the scene he returned to was far from the relatively banal Sunday afternoon barbecue he'd left behind. 

“Oh Jesus, I think it’s broken” Debbie was shrieking. 

“It’s not broken,” Lip argued dismissively. “Mickey, lean your fucking head back.” 

“I think he has to go further back, like lean his head back off the edge of the table to keep the blood in” Carl chimed in.

“I’m not fuckin’ doing that” Mickey’s muffled voice snapped.

“Yeah, definitely don’t” Liam said nervously.

“Mickey, shut up. Every time you open your mouth you’re bleeding all over my carpet!” Tami snapped. 

“What the hell happened?” Ian interrupted, taking in the scene in the living room. Lip had a bloody cloth pressed none too gently against the lower half of Mickey’s face, everyone else was crowded around the couch eyeing him curiously, especially Franny, who was trying to get a peak around the cloth. 

For a second, all the heads in the room snapped to him and no one said anything. The perfect stillness was broken by Freddy’s barely stifled sniffles finally pouring over into real tears, as he dropped the baseball he was holding and brought both chubby kid hands up to cover his eyes.

It was pretty easy to put together what happened, he had been so thrilled to start his first tee-ball season, for a second Ian worried that this would ruin the sensitive kid’s excitement. 

“I’m so sorry,” he wailed. Mickey shrugged Lip off of him, revealing the path of blood gushing from his nose and down the front of his mouth and chin. Someone drew in a harsh breath at the sight, but Mickey just leaned forward towards where Freddy was watching him pitifully.

“Look kid, you don’t gotta’ apologize to me. It was an accident, accidents happen. I’m a little bloody but I still have all my teeth” Mickey started, showing off his teeth, blood stained but thankfully intact. 

He sniffed and winced slightly but recovered quickly. “Just be more careful where you throw that thing, got it?” He said, nodding at the baseball and the small red stain it left on the beige rug Tami was so worried about. 

“I’ll be careful Uncle Mickey,” Fred agreed hastily, watching him with wide, tearful eyes. 

“Okay, go get me some frozen peas, you know where they are right?” Mickey said easily, leaning back with the towel back on his face.

Freddy ran back into the kitchen excitedly, happy enough to have a sense that he could help make it better. Everyone dispersed from there, and Lip walked over to join his bother.

“The worst thing you’ve ever done to me was make Mickey Milkovich my kid’s favorite Uncle,” Lip joked as he took the soda out of a shocked Ian’s hand, freeing him from his spot in the entry way so he could intercept Fred on his way back to the living room. Ian took the cold peas with a ruffle through his blonde curls and sent him off gently with Franny. 

“He got you good, huh?” Ian said, wrapping the ice pack in a towel and pressing it gently against the damaged area slowly turning purple.

“The kid has an arm like Greg fuckin’ Maddux” Mickey groaned quietly, finally dropping the brave face he was putting on for Fred. “This shit hurts like hell.” 

Ian settled next to him on the couch, hold the bundle to his enflamed skin. “You were very nice, might have saved his future professional career” he joked.

“What am I going to do, give him the Terry Milkovich special?” Mickey shrugged uncomfortably after a beat. 

“Nah,” Ian said lightly, tipping Mickey back gently with a hand on the back of his neck. “Come on, we can get you in a dark, air-conditioned room with extra strength Tylenol. Let’s just grab a couple plates of food, they owe us.”

“Sounds great” Mickey responded sarcastically. “Nothing goes with the taste of blood like your sisters shitty potato salad.”

Ian ran off to collect some food before returning to the living room and guiding Mickey out.

"-was an ugly fucking carpet anyways."

hope you liked it!

Prompt game fun!

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfic #sgtmickeyslaughter #prompt game

[wehangout]

if you still take physical affection prompts, how about 18? 🤗💚

Send me a number prompt and I’ll make it smutty

18. grabbing their wrist or hand and turning them around

You're halfway down the alley when Ian grabs you. Hand around your wrist, he spins you to face him and the look in his eyes is enough to take your breath away. And it's dumb, so fucking dumb to think sappy, romantic shit like that, but the whole night has been sappy and romantic so you don't give a shit.

Well.

The kind of sappy and romantic that only you and Ian can pull off.

Giant hand wrapped your wrist, he backs you into the fence. Your eyebrows shoot up and you grin at him; it's been a long fucking time since you've fucked in an alley.

"You startin' something, Gallagher?"

"No. I mean, yeah, but also ..."

You wait him out a couple of seconds before prodding. "Also?"

His thumb strokes at your pulse point and even in the dark you can see him swallow heavily. "Sometimes I - I don't say what I mean."

"Okay."

"My heart will be saying one thing and my head will usually be in agreement, but then I'll open my mouth and something else entirely comes out."

Your heart sinks because you know where this is going. "Ian -"

"I wasn't that I didn't love you enough," he says, and says it quickly like he has to get it out before his mouth can go ahead and change the words. "I've always loved you enough."

"Ian." You lift your free hand and press it to his cheek. "I know."

And you do. His whole I'm-not-worthy-of-love speech made it really fucking clear that you weren't the problem, that Ian's love for you wasn't the fucking problem.

"You do?" he asks, grip tightening on your wrist.

You smirk up at him, let your thumb trace his lips. "You think I haven't been there, Gallagher? I fuckin' get it."

"Yeah. Shit. Guess you do."

"Mhmm. So we doin' this or what?"

A grin blossoms across his face. "By this do you mean getting married? Or fucking in the alley?"

"Fuckin' both, hot shot."

"I mean, I already got to my knees once for you tonight, what's the harm in doin' it again, huh?"

His grip on your wrist tightens again, but in the good way. The really fucking good way, and you can't fucking help yourself.

"Nope," you say, free hand undoing his jeans with ease. "My turn."

You drop to your knees. He keeps hold of your wrist.

You've missed this. Missed him. And if anyone's getting to their knees on the concrete of the alley to suck cock, it's gonna be you.

Ian sucks in a breath from above you and you pull his hard dick out of his boxers.

"Shit, Ian, you're leaking already."

"Been hard since you called me a fucking pussy."

You huff a laugh, smirk at the way your breath makes his entire body shudder, and trail one finger from tip to balls.

"Fuck, Mickey."

The thing about sucking Ian's dick is that, yeah, you fucking love it, but you're also fucking amazing at it. You know what kind of blow job he needs and when he needs it. You know when he wants finesse, wants a quickie, wants you to draw it out until he's a trembling mess. And you know, that right then, after everything that's happened, he wants you eager and sloppy and wet.

He wants you to suck his dick down and let him fuck your face until you can't breathe. He wants your mouth open, eyes up, staring at him as you choke around his dick and tears form at the corner of your eyes. He wants spit and precome dribbling down your chin, his own come mixing with it after when he licks you clean.

And he's your fiance now. You'll give him everything he fucking wants.

#ian and mickey #gallavich #gallavich fic #my fic #this is my third attempt #the other two have been taken elsewhere for another day #smut prompts #creepkingink #thank you!! #will continue to take prompts until every number has been written lmao

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

for the smutty one-liners, if you feel like it: 1. "Feel this? It's just for you." 17. "Can you be good for me?"

"Feel this? It's just for you." "Can you be good for me?"

Mickey is high as hell and pushing his luck with Ian. He knows it, his boyfriend's silhouette locking in - unflinching - even as the rest of the room starts to spin around him.

But that's what they're at this club for. They had a whole big talk about how hot it'd be to let go a little - for Ian to smoke him up and get him loose in the sea of strangers. But Mickey's a little too loose.

Mickey's a little too high, the floor stretching out under his feet as he grins up at Ian in the crowd, wrapping his arms around him like he's ready to get turned out right here.

He wants Ian to eat him alive.

A free show for everyone.

But Ian's got a tight grip on the reins.

And when Mickey looks back on what he can remember from tonight, he'll be so fucking relieved that Ian took control like this - that he didn't listen to Mickey's stoned pleading.

Even now - here - sat up on one of the tall bar stools that Ian dragged into the far, shadowy corner - there's just the quickest flash of disappointment in him from being dragged off into time out. But there must be a part of his brain still online, because he can't get the fucking smile off of his face.

He slots his swaying body into the angle of the walls, his head heavy and listing forward before Ian takes pity on him and helps it back to rest too. "You're so fuckin' high, baby..."

Mickey's smile widens. Feels like it takes up his whole face, even as he slurs together his answer. "S'your fault..." Ian was the one who kept guiding the joint back to his mouth, watching hungrily. Exactly as planned. "Gonna fuck me on a... ...a fuckin'...stool...?"

They could make it work, he's sure...

Ian crowds closer. Blocks him in with his body, one hand planted on the side that Mickey keeps tipping toward. "No Mick, I'm gonna take you home."

No! "No no no..." The protest that falls from his mouth gets drowned out by the music, but he can feel his face scrunching. "The fuck for..." And it's in perfect timing with how he reaches up, ready to prove his sobriety but distracted far too quickly as he realizes his wrists are caught - a belt secured around them so his hands are stacked, palm up.

The fuck?

Is that his belt? Who's fucking belt is this...?

"Mick..." Comes Ian's voice again, and it's fallen into that good good tone. That controlled one. "Want you to listen to me, baby. Alright?" Fingers below Mickey's chin. "Look at me..."

He didn't even realize his head was hanging again. But now he's level with Ian, the height of the bar stool bringing them face to face.

He blinks and it's heavy. Drags his tongue across his bottom lip, imagining himself falling forward into the sloppiest makeout he could possible muster. Fuck, that would be hot.

But Ian's holding firmly onto the reins. So when he wraps a big hand around Mickey's wrist, it's to pull both of Mickey's bound hands forward, until his palm is slotting right over the crotch of Ian's jeans, the bulge beneath them obvious.

"Feel this?" Ian murmurs, and it shoots a nasty thrill though Mickey's body, pulling a slow nod from him that Ian must like. Because, "This is for you," he says, "...if you can be good for me and listen to what's gonna happen."

Mickey takes in a long, heavy breath, the rush of it making his lashes flutter as Ian keeps his hand there.

He's big and warm beneath his palm - beneath the denim. Mickey wants his cock so bad. Bad enough to listen.

"You're gonna let me walk you out of this club," Ian explains, keeping that eye contact. "You're gonna sit in the car with me and be good," a fate worse than death. "And if you can keep your hands to yourself, when we get home, I'll lay you out and fuck you exactly how you like it..."

Christ... "And cum inside me," Mickey wagers.

Ian's cock jumps beneath his palm. "And cum inside you." Fuck yes... "But none of that happens if you can't be good for me. Understand, Mick?"

Mickey swallows down the impulse to do something horny and stupid just for the instant gratification. He may be high, but he knows a good deal when he sees one. He can't blow this. So. "Mhm."

"Yeah? Can you be good for me?"

And oh, the way that grin dances back across Mickey's face... "Yeah, I can be good for you..."

Ian's seen it before, he's sure. Moments before disaster.

"We'll see..." he supposes.

But he's fully hard now in his jeans.

They'll definitely see how far they get.

Mickey's banking on at least getting outside of the club.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#gallavich #smutty one-liners #ray writes #these have been so fun and so good for my brain - thank you :)

[firecrxtch]

Frilly fuckin' smelly shit

hiii i wrote a silly little thing🫧🛁💙🩵

Summary: Maybe a bath with your hubby isn't so bad after all

Tags: Fluff, pure fucking fluff, bath bombs as a love language, post-canon

Words: 766

Rating: Teen

READ ON AO3

or read under the cut

When Ian emerges from the bathroom, he finds Mickey sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand while the TV is playing in the background.

“Ey,” he says. “What are you up to?”

“I, uh, just filled up the tub. Thought you might join me?” Ian says, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

Micky opens his mouth to speak, but Ian interrupts before he can get any words out.

“I got that soap that doesn’t smell too strong, because I know you hate that, and just one big candle so we don’t sit in total darkness - or we could just keep the lamp on, if you prefer. I don’t know, I just thought it could be nice if…”

“Ian,” Mickey says, looking tense.

Ian instantly regrets asking.  

“Listen, man, I-uh, I’m just not really into it. There’s not enough room for both of us and the faucet was digging into my back the whole time and… I just don’t like it.”

Ian tries his hardest not to look like a kicked puppy and he’s clearly not succeeding, because Mickey’s eyes grow soft, and Ian can tell he’s choosing his words very carefully.

“I’d rather just hang out with you on the couch, we could watch a movie or something?”

Ian keeps fiddling with his ring.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, you told me you didn’t like it last time. I’m gonna go take a bath, I guess.” Ian says and turns around before Mickey can protest.

He closes the door to the bathroom, feeling fucking pathetic when his vision blurs. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a bath, not the end of the world, there’s no reason to be crying over a fucking bath. He quickly undresses and looks at the burning candle standing on the edge of the tub. He blows it out and turns on the overhead lights before submerging himself in the warm water. It's just a bath and Mickey doesn’t like it and Ian needs to get the fuck over it. He's not even in the mood for a bath anymore, but he already filled the tub, so he might as well fucking use it. Besides, he could do with a little alone time right now.

His eyes blink open when he hears the bathroom door creak. Mickey is standing in the door, looking at him with soft apologetic eyes. Mcikey’s eyes land on the blown-out candle before he fishes a lighter from his pocket and lights it. He then turns off the lamp and bares his skin in the golden candlelight. Neither of them says anything when Mickey gets into the tub.

They stare at each other from across the tub for a good minute before Mickey, with great difficulty, turns around and ankers his back against Ian’s chest, causing a bit of water to splash out and land on a little brown bag on the floor.

“What’s that?” Mickey asks.

In the midst of feeling sorry for himself, Ian had almost forgotten that he bought it.

“Oh, uh, it’s just a bath bomb. It’s stupid, don’t know why I bought it. Could give it to Franny, maybe.” Once again Mickey remains silent as his dripping hand emerges from the tub and picks up the bath bomb. It’s dark blue with a bit of glitter. It smells like lavender with a hint of citrus and Ian might have thought of Mickey when he bought it.

“Wanna do the honors?” Mickey asks hands it to Ian.

It quickly darkens the water, looking almost black, the glitter reflecting in the candlelight like starts in the night sky.

“You didn’t have to do that. I know you hate it,” Ian says reveling in the feeling of Mickey’s naked back against his chest, the way he fits so perfectly, tucked under Ian’s chin.

“I couldn’t just leave you out here alone, haven’t got a chance against those puppy eyes you gave me. Anyway, it’s not too bad when I don’t have metal digging into my back, you know,” Mickey shrugs, and Ian can’t help but smile.

“Got something else digging into my back, though,” he says, wiggling around where Ian’s soft cock kisses Mickey’s lower back.

“Shut up,” Ian giggles and he can feel Mickey laughing along with him.

“You are gonna have to clean all this glitter from my ass later, though,” he says.

Ian can’t help but plant a kiss on top if Mickey’s head.

“I can probably manage that.”

“Also, I get to pick the bath bomb next time,” Mickey says and turns his head, matching Ian’s beaming smile.

#shameless #gallavich #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fanfiction

[howlinchickhowl]

We're on a roll! It's a two day streak for @gallavichthings A.U.Gust bonanza, will I be back for day three? who knows! But for now...

How to Save a Life a.u.gust day two - surfer/lifeguard

Mickey is a whirlwind of energy as soon as Ian pulls open his door, strong hands pushing at his chest, forcing his way into the room and pushing a surprised Ian up against the wall.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” Mickey practically yells, eyes wide, mouth full open and kind of foamy with how angry he is. Ian hadn’t anticipated this.

“Hey Mickey.” He smiles, his best attempt at sheepishly charming, but Mickey is not deterred.

“Don’t fuckin’ ‘Hey Mickey’ me shit for brains, you coulda been killed out there today!”

A couple in their sixties amble past the open door, serving as a reminder that Ian’s hotel is not necessarily the most private of places. They cast concerned looks Ian’s way as he turns his sheepishly charming grin their way and gives the best little wave he can with his shoulders pinned to the wall. They move along, muttering between themselves, and Mickey kicks the door shut with not a small amount of force.

“I’m so serious Ian, you could’ve died.”

Stubby fingers that Ian has come to find incredibly endearing clench in the fabric of the loose t-shirt he had thrown on after his shower, Mickey’s knuckles are practically white with how hard he is gripping.

Ian brings his own hand up and covers Mickey’s fist with it, fingers tracing the ridges of his knuckles.

“But I didn’t. I’m fine.”  

Mickey’s hand relaxes, ever so slightly, he pulls back, ever so slightly.

“This time. This time you’re fine, but—”

“This isn’t my first comp Mickey.” He manages to pry Mickey’s fingers from his shirt, uses his hold on it to pull them closer together. Mickey’s eyes soften as Ian lays hands on his hips. “I’ve surfed all over the world. Kinda famous for it actually. Haven’t died yet.”

Mickey rolls his eyes, dramatic bitch, Ian thinks as he lets his hands drift from Mickey’s hips to his belt, making short work of the buckle and dipping his fingers into the waistband of his underwear as he talks.

“Alright big shot. You’ve surfed all over the world, you’re a big deal in the ocean or whatever, you don’t know these waters like I do. You don’t sit there, day after day, watching people’s luck turn on a fucking dime.”

Making a soft noise, a little coo of sympathy for a subject that Mickey obviously takes very seriously, Ian drops to his knees, pulling Mickey’s pants down with him as he goes and leaning in to nose along the ridge of his cock, slowly plumping inside his boxers. Apparently even a growing erection and a willing man on his knees isn’t enough to distract his lover from his diatribe, though, and Ian ends up just resting his chin against Mickey’s stomach and gazing up at him until his rant reaches an end.

“I’ve pulled people out of the water who’ve been just as experienced as you Ian and it didn’t make a lick of difference in the end. You can’t predict the waves, and you can’t control your luck.”

“You’re right.” Ian says, and Mickey finally seems to clock the fact that he’s down here. “I can’t predict the waves, I can’t control my luck.”

Mickey nods furiously, heaving a sigh at Ian finally agreeing with him. Ian places a soft kiss against the coarse hairs on Mickey’s belly and tucks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down to join his pants as he says,

“Guess that’s why it’s a good thing I’m fucking a lifeguard. Hmm?”

#fic #my fic #my writing #howl does a.u.gust #gallavich fic #ian x mickey

[sam-loves-seb]

wip wednesday friday

we're gonna pretend it's still friday and not ten minutes past midnight here on the east coast (oops). thanks for the tags @jrooc & @mybrainismelted & @transmurderbug <3

wip is from a one shot i'm working on that will (hopefully) be posted next week. it's a bit of a longer snippet so i'm putting it under the cut. enjoy.

March, for some people, always seems to drag on. It’s a long, cold, rain-filled month, especially in Chicago, and it makes it feel like it goes on and on with no end in sight.

Ian, however, finds it to always go by fast.

The twenty-first is here in the blink of an eye, and when he wakes up on the morning of his fourth wedding anniversary—and God isn’t just the thought of that alone enough to make him grin—he wakes up smiling.

Mickey is still asleep beside him, curled up on his side with his half his face smushed into the pillow, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

The sun is just starting to rise, and Ian quickly looks over and checks his phone. They still have ten minutes until the first alarm, and he leaves his phone on the bedside table. In the drawer below it, he shuffles around the half-empty bottles of lube and spare phone charger, then lifts his journal just enough to slide out the envelope beneath it.

There’s nothing of note on either side of it, except for the scrawled Mick on one side. Despite the lack of fanfare, Ian grins at what he knows is inside.

These days he tries his best not to wake a sleeping Mickey if he can help it, but Ian figures that if there was ever going to be an exception, today would be it.

He slides over under the covers and rolls Mickey onto his back. Mickey makes a half-conscious noise at the movement, but that’s about it.

Ian leaves the envelope on his side of the bed and stretches himself out over his husband. He keeps the blankets pulled up high on his shoulders because he knows it’s fucking freezing in their apartment in the mornings, and he kisses Mickey’s neck.

Another faint sound comes from Mickey, who’s starting to wake slowly, rolling his head over on the pillow and shifting his shoulders.

Ian continues his path of kisses up to Mickey’s jaw, then switches to the other side. He takes his time, not really looking to start anything, just trying to wake his husband up with soft, loving kisses. It’s slow, careful work, but it’s so worth it when he sees the smile that tugs at the corners of Mickey’s mouth the very first second he’s aware of what’s happening.

“Morning,” Ian whispers into his skin, gently nipping at the skin just above his t-shirt collar.

Mickey hums in approval, lazily lifting one arm and getting his fingers in Ian’s hair. “Hey.”

Ian kisses Mickey’s chest over his t-shirt while his hands slip under it by his sides. Mickey’s body is still sleep-warm and soft, fitting perfectly between his palms.

When Ian reaches the center of his chest, he kisses Mickey once there, then again slightly to the left. He lets his lips linger over the tattoo that he can’t see, but knows the exact position of, then props his chin up on his husband’s chest.

“Happy Anniversary,” Ian whispers, watching Mickey blink his eyes open in the early morning light.

Mickey smirks. “Is that today?”

Ian lightly bites at his pec, and Mickey’s chest rumbles with a laugh.

“Happy Anniversary,” Mickey says with a fond smile. He pushes Ian’s curls back off his forehead. “Four years, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Ian agrees, slowly pushing Mickey’s shirt up his stomach. He dips his head lower, kisses his husband’s belly.

“That’s a long time.”

“Mm.” Ian kisses his navel. “I think we’re just getting started.”

Mickey grins. “Yeah. I think so too.”

After he’s satisfied with his exploration of kissable exposed skin, Ian pulls Mickey’s t-shirt back down and settles heavily on top of him, fitting his body between Mickey’s legs. He brings their faces closer together and kisses him soft and sweet.

Mickey hums as Ian pulls back, the morning sun dancing in his eyes. “Alright Gallagher,” he says. “What do you got planned?”

“For today? Not much,” Ian says with an honest shrug. “Work, some dinner. Maybe we’ll make out a little on the couch later. Oh,” he pretends to just remember something and reaches out to grab the envelope from the other side of the bed. “And there’s this.”

Mickey eyes the plain white envelope suspiciously as he slowly takes it from Ian’s hands. His brows furrow slightly. “I thought for sure you’d make us take the day off from work.”

“No, not today,” Ian says playfully, pretending to think about it. “But tomorrow, don’t bother setting your alarm.”

Mickey grins, all teeth. “Long weekend?”

The hopefulness in his eyes is already enough to convince Ian that what he has planned is a good idea. Just the prospect of a day off has Mickey beaming.

“Extra-long,” Ian tells him, rolling over to the side and propping his elbow up on the mattress, his head resting on his fist. “We took off Monday too.”

Mickey pushes himself up on the pillows so he’s sitting up a bit more, the unopened envelope still in his hands. “We can’t skip Monday, man, we have that huge shipment coming in for the northside grow houses.”

“Carlos is gonna do it.”

“Carlos?” Mickey rasies his brows. “He’s already working forty hours next week.”

“Yeah, he knows,” Ian says, snaking his arm around Mickey’s waist. “He’s looking forward to the overtime in his paycheck.”

Mickey grumbles. “I bet he is, greedy little fucker.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Mickey, he needs the money. His wife’s pregnant.”

“She is?” Mickey asks, as if this is the first he’s hearing about it. “When’s the kid gonna be here?”

“Not ‘til August—are you gonna open that or what?”

TBC [coming soon to an archive near you]

#gee can you guess what i'm writing this for #i wonder! #i still have so much left to write for it so fingers crossed i actually finish this on time oops we'll see !! #anyway #wip #wip game #tag game #gallavich #gallavich wip

[takeyourpillsbitchh]

Bubble Bath Re-Write 🫧🛁

I found this little re-write while going through my google docs this morning and felt the need to share it with y’all 😘

***

Mickey was fucking uncomfortable. The cold metal faucet was digging into his back. The scent of the bubbles was too strong. The water was too hot. This felt weird and fucking embarrassing. And his knees were starting to cramp from the position.

Ian looks nice and fucking comfortable, eyes closed, relaxed back against the slanted part of the tub.

“This is gay.” Mickey grumbled, because it’s all he knows to say to keep himself from lashing out.

“We’re gay, Mick,” Ian answers back, eyes still closed, but Mickey shakes his head.

“Nah. I don’t think I’m this gay,” He says, unsure. He wants to like it but it’s just not doing it for him. Is this really how couples take fucking baths together? Nah.

“Nope. I’m getting out,” Mickey stands quickly, the water sloshing around in the tub.

Before he can step out a large hand is closing around his wrist to stop him.

“Mick, wait—”

“No, I don’t like it,” he says but he doesn’t make a move to leave again. Ian looks up at him, catching his eye with those puppy dog green ones, stares at him for a minute before his face goes all soft and mushy.

“C’mere,” He says, the corner of his mouth tugging up as he gently pulls Mickey back down.

He goes without a fight, letting Ian position him between those long, strong legs.

This isn’t so bad, Mickey hums to himself as he relaxes back against Ian’s chest, his legs less cramped in this position, nothing hard digging into his back—well, the hard part wasn’t completely true, but this one was welcome.

“Better?” Ian asks, his hands sliding up and down Mickey's biceps, squeezing every now and then in a lazy massage.

“Mhmm,” Mickey hums, nodding slightly against Ian’s shoulder.

The water had cooled off a bit, the scented bubbles weren’t making him nauseous anymore and the only thing digging into his back was his husband's hard on and he could happily live with that.

Somehow Ian ended up with his face pressed to Mickey’s neck, hands rubbing at every part of his husbands body he could reach from this position. He mouths at the skin of Mickey’s neck every now and then; open mouthed kisses, gentle sucks and love bites.

Mickey tilts his head to the side, wanting more. Loves the way Ian’s mouth feels on him.

“Don’t like fighting with you,” Ian says suddenly against his skin, low and soft. Mickey's eyes flutter open, not even realizing they’d fallen closed in his relaxation.

“Hm?”

“I don’t like fighting with you.” Ian repeats, pressing another kiss to Mickey's neck then his jaw. “About anything.”

Mickeys quiet for a minute. Bites the inside of his lip in thought. Ian never stops kissing or touching him.

“Yeah, me, either,” He finally replies. And it’s true. He hates fighting with Ian about…anything.

They aren’t stupid teenagers anymore. Sometimes they can be stupid adults but they know how to communicate better now but sometimes…sometimes communicating is fucking hard and it makes him uncomfortable.

“Maybe, we could like, do this more often?” Mickey says, turning his face to press his forehead against Ian’s jaw.

“Yeah?” Ian asks and Mickey feels his smile more than he can see it.

“Yeah.” He answers, kissing Ian’s chin before snuggling back against his husband's chest once again.

“Hm,” Ian hums after a moment, nuzzling against Mickey's ear. “Wanna fool around?”

A smile spreads wide across Mickey's face as a hand slides between his thighs.

“Absolutely.”

#happy husbands #Mickey just wanted some comfort #the show did him dirty by not giving him a nice relaxing bath with his husband #pure disrespect #but WE all know this is exactly how Ian would have actually handled it #boo to the writers #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich #shameless #gallavich fanfic #chey writes #gallavich fix it

[southsidestory]

Mandy won’t leave, and it’s driving Mickey up the wall. She was supposed to hang out with some “friend” around noon, but the guy must have bailed because she called their cousin Krystal and made new plans for an undetermined time.

Mickey would really like her to determine it and get a move on. He told Ian to be here at one o’clock and that shithead is never late.

“You ever going to Krystal’s, or…?” Mickey raises his eyebrows and lets them finish the sentence for him.

“What do you care?” Mandy asks.

“I was supposed to have the house to myself for once, and instead you got your sad ass parked on the couch growing goddamn sprouts.” Mickey gestures from said couch to the door with both arms. “Now get the fuck up.”

“You’re such a douchebag sometimes,” Mandy says, but that’s fine by him, since she does in fact get the fuck up.

He watches the time on his latest burner while Mandy packs an overnight bag, grabs her purse, and walks out. She waves goodbye with her middle finger.

“Don’t forget to erase that chalk off your nose,” Mickey calls after her. He mimes wiping powder from his nostrils.

Mandy slams the door shut, and Mickey collapses back against the couch. He holds up his throwaway phone: 12:56. Ian’s gonna be here any minute. 

They’ve got water in the house right now, and Dad isn’t on one of his you’ll bathe when I say you can power trips, so Mickey was able to shower this morning. He didn’t use any faggoty flower soap or whatever, but he’s as clean as anyone ever can be in this moldy-ass death trap of a house.

Ian shows up at one on the dot. He’s smart enough to listen for other people before saying anything.

Mickey punches his arm lightly. “It’s cool, Army. Nobody’s here.”

“Army, firecrotch, tough guy, Private Ryan.” Ian counts off each one on his fingers. “I’m starting to wonder if you even know my name.”

“‘Course I do, Gallagher.”

Ian follows Mickey to the living room. He shrugs off his coat and sits on the edge of the couch, smiling that way he does when he’s trying not to look too happy.

Mickey ruffles his hair and yanks on a handful of it. “This cut makes you look like an idiot.”

“I’m thinking about buzzing it.”

“Sure, if you want to look even stupider.”

Ian tilts his head back, looking up at Mickey all knowing and shit. “I think you just like to grab it.”

Mickey’s grip on his hair tightens. He steps closer, til Ian’s open legs are bracketing Mickey’s knees. His chin is a foot from Mickey’s stomach, and it’d be so easy to drag him closer, get Ian’s mouth on him.

Ian doesn’t try. Mickey’s rejection the other night must have knocked his courage down a peg. That’s good. Keeps things clear. 

Mickey hates it.

“Let’s go to my room.”

—

—

AN: This excerpt from my (unposted) long-fic If You Have a Problem is a gift for @ifconfusionwasaperson <3 Thanks so much for your support, my friend!

#gallavich fic #gallavich #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless us #my fanfiction

[arrowflier]

Hi, Arrow! It's so great to have you back. For the speedwrites, how about the two of them getting stranded somewhere overnight, because of a flat tire or bad weather. 🚗❤️

Thanks Deena! I was trying to go cutesy and then this happened instead, oops😂

“You also told me you’d be ready when I got home, so whose fault is this again?”

Mickey grimaces.

“Would’ve been if not for your brother.”

“Oh, sure.” Mickey can see the roll of Ian’s eyes reflected in the windshield. “Carl made you stay late at the Alibi.”

“What was I supposed to do? Turn down free drinks?” Mickey scoffs. “Yeah, sure.”

He leans forward, peers past Ian out the driver’s side window. He can’t see much except the rain, coming down sideways now, and the roll of clouds in the distance as lightning flashes through them. Beyond the spread of their weak headlights, he can’t even make out the road.

“You sure you can’t drive in this?” he asks anyway, squinting as if it will help him see through the darkness. “Think I probably could. Just need to—”

“Good for you,” Ian cuts in sharply. “Next time, don’t drink five rounds before we leave and I’ll let you try.”

Mickey subsides. Sits back in his seat, lets his head fall against the headrest. Straightens, undoes his seatbelt, and leans back again.

Ian isn’t moving. His hands are still on the wheel even though he’s already put the car in park, and he’s staring blindly through the windshield.

“Shitty start to our first vacation, huh?” Mickey comments, turning toward him and fidgeting until one leg is half up on the seat. He smiles wryly. “I mean, we’re supposed to be in a cabin right now, smoking it up and fucking in front of the fire—”

“I’m trying, okay Mickey?” Ian snaps, fingers white where they still clutch the wheel, and Mickey stops.

It’s cold in the car. Colder than it was a minute ago, a chill seeping through him as his eyes latch onto Ian’s set jaw. Ian is grinding his teeth, giving the weather outside the chin, and his eyes are—

Oh, fuck. That’s not the good kind of red.

“Hey.” He tries to say it softly, but it rings too loud in the suddenly quiet car. The last of his buzz slips away as he reaches out a hand grips Ian’s wrist. He tries to tug Ian’s arm toward him, but it stays stubbornly where it is.

“What,” Ian asks shortly, and Mickey winces.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I was just teasing you, man.”

Ian snorts. It sounds wet.

“You’re right though,” he says. There’s a bitter roughness to his tone, like he’s fighting to push the words out of his throat. “This was supposed to be a nice thing, a good thing for us. I worked so hard to set it up, and I—” He breaks off. His fingers flex on the wheel, Mickey’s hand moving with his arm as he finally pulls it back. “And I couldn’t even plan for the fucking weather.”

“Ian,” Mickey says. His hand slides from wrist to knuckles, around to palm. “We live in the fucking midwest. The weather can’t even plan itself.”

That earns him another snort, but it’s lighter this time.

“Was sunny this morning,” he agrees. “Not a cloud in sight.”

“Sneaky fuckers, clouds. Total airheads, too.”

This time he gets an actual laugh, and Ian’s fingers tightening on his.

“Sorry this got fucked up,” Ian says quietly, running a thumb across the back of Mickey’s hand. “But I think we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.”

Thunder booms closer, as if in answer. The rain gets louder, water covering the windshield until all they can see are streaks of light. Then even those are gone as Mickey reaches over Ian with his free hand and turns off the headlights.

“Been stuck in worse places.” He shifts until he’s leaning sideways over the center console, and lays his head on Ian’s tense shoulder. “And with worse company.”

Ian lets his hand be pulled over into Mickey’s lap. The position is awkward, but he twists to press his face into Mickey’s hair.

“Yeah,” he breathes, barely audible over the storm. “Me too.”

#speedwrites #prompt fill #fanfic #gallavich

[lupeloto]

@galladrabbles time! hi, i think i wrote something super similar to this before but here i am again with insecure mickey because i love my bbgs (grown men) pathetic🤩 thanks to @thisdivorce for the prompt i have many ideas for it hehe.

"Love is insane. You feel like you're always subtly asking: "Do you still love me even though I'm flawed?" And the answer just keeps being "Yes.". - Gayassnatural

*** *** ***

“I’d understand if you wanna split, man.” Mickey mumbles, looking down, hand still cuffed to the shelf behind the washing machine.

“Huh?” Ian shifts to stand in front of his slouched fiance. 

“I mean do you really want this,” Mickey uses his free hand to gesture to the two of them, “enough to deal with all this Terry shit, man…puttin’ you in danger it’s just-”

Ian cuts him off, lifting Mickey’s chin lightly with his fingers, “Hey…” their eyes finally meet, “Yes. Always yes..”

He places a soft kiss on Mickey's forehead, grabbing his free hand and squeezing it tightly.

#galladrabbles #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher

[sweetperversiongirl]

Prompt by @callivich :

Mickey is a handyman/builder. His latest job is working on a room which he’s pretty sure is gonna be some kinda sex dungeon. Even though his client, Ian, insists it’s a ‘workout’ room. Maybe Mickey is wrong and this is just a weird home gym but either way…..one thing he does know is that he’s got the hots for Ian.

Climbing up the ladder, Mickey looks closely at the mark on the ceiling. He just finished installing the podium yesterday, and now he has to screw a massive metal hook into the ceiling right above it.

He hears movement behind him. Turning around, Mickey almost falls off the ladder when he finds Ian leaning his shoulder against the doorway.

“What the fuck, dude? You can't sneak up on a man like that when he's busy! Mickey is indignant, coming down from the stepladder.

Ian giggles, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jeans, which are so tight and fit well on those hips that it must be illegal. Mickey thinks the man looks a little shy. On the other hand, his amorous brain may well play this cruel trick on him.

“I'm sorry,” Ian says. His smile at the same time makes Mickey's eyes hurt in the most pleasant way. “I just wanted to know how you're doing here.”

Mickey snorts to himself. He has been doing repairs in a strange room for a week, ridiculously reminiscent of a sex dungeon. At the same time, the owner of the house continues to claim that “this is just a gym.” At the same time, this host is so hot, how sweet, attentive and kind. And Mickey managed to fall head over heels in love with him almost on the very first day they met.

How is he doing? Oh, great! Mickey's totally fucking fine. Why not?

Ian continues to stand in the doorway, giving Mickey space and time to think about his answer. It gives Mickey a little more courage to ask the question that's been on his tongue all morning.

“What is it for? He finally asks, pointing with his gaze at the sturdy metal hook he clutches in his hand.

“Oh, it's going to have a punching bag attached to it,” Ian replies innocently.

He doesn't seem to think about the answer for a second. That doesn't mean Mickey doesn't have more questions.

“A punching bag. Cool,” Mickey snorts again. “In that case, why the fuck would you need this podium under her?”his gaze slides along the perimeter of the structure on the floor, suspiciously resembling a king-sized bed in size and height.

He thinks that the two wooden beams that were brought yesterday would have made a full-size St. Andrew's Cross. Mickey is not sure if he hopes that this is not the case, or vice versa.

Obviously, Ian has an answer to any remark Mickey makes.

“Well, it's convenient. And aesthetic,” Ian shrugs, looking up from the doorway. Mickey notices too late that the atmosphere in the room has changed. When he realizes this, the giant redhead is already standing on the podium right in front of him. “What are you thinking, Mickey?”Ian is asking. His voice now sounds low and muffled.

Mickey has to swallow the lump stuck in his throat. His free hand involuntarily reaches for his face. He scratches his eyebrow with his thumb, tilting his head and staring at his work boots. Should he tell Ian that a sex swing would look much more aesthetic on this hook than a punching bag?

“I think it's more like a dark room,” Mickey hears himself talking before he can stop himself.

He also hears Ian's soft laugh, but he doesn't dare look up yet. His whole body is covered with goosebumps when a large freckled hand reaches out to him. Ian's long fingers touch Mickey's chin so gently and at the same time firmly that he has absolutely no strength (and desire) to resist.

“You wish that was the case, wouldn't you, kid?”

#gallavich #shameless #Ficlet Gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher

[mmmichyyy]

42+74?

#42: "stop being so cute" & #74: "i'm not wearing a tie"

"mick, you need any help in there?"

"fuck off!"

ian rolls his eyes, even though mickey can't see him. "stop being such a drama queen and show me."

the door to the thrift store changing room slowly cracks open and ian stifles back a laugh at the sight of his frowning boyfriend looking like a cute feral chipmunk, drowning in a light grey suit that's clearly two sizes too big on him.

"tell me again," mickey groans, tugging at his shirt collar, "why the hell are we wasting money on a stupid school dance?"

"because," ian starts, reaching out his pointer finger to boop mickey's nose. mickey scowls, swatting his hand away. "it's prom - our last hurrah before we graduate and leave high school behind. it'll be fun!"

"i look fuckin' ridiculous," mickey mutters under his breath, pulling at the excess fabric on the jacket and pants. "nothing fits me."

ian sighs and rests his chin on top of mickey's shoulder. he wraps his arms around mickey's waist from behind and turns them both to face the mirror. mickey tenses for moment, twists his neck around to check if anyone's around, before relaxing and leaning back into ian's chest.

"vee has a sewing machine, she can help you tailor to your measurements. plus," ian adds teasingly, "i think my boyfriend looks cute in a suit. we're definitely going to be the hottest couple there."

"bitch, stop calling me cute."

"well, stop being so cute, then!"

"ugh, why do i put up with you?"

ian smacks an obnoxious kiss on mickey's warm cheek. "because you love me, asshole. and i know secretly, deep down, you know you're adorable."

mickey rolls his eyes, but ian can see mickey biting back a smile. "fine. but i'm not wearing a tie or a corsage, though. too fuckin' gay."

ian grins, already knowing his boyfriend will change his mind once he sees the blue stargazer lily corsage he ordered.

"whatever you say, mick."

#thanks anon for the fun prompts <3 #gallavich ficlet #gallavich fic #gallavich #my words #ask game #michy ficlet