#and you could think about mick keeping it in his room or in his jacket pocket right above his heart

[marsiscool77]

The Christmas Dinner

Summary: You're at a dinner with your family and they keep asking about Mick while he's running late for the dinner.

Pairing: Female reader x Mick Mars

It was your family's Christmas dinner. It was the one thing that annoyed you because they were always asking "Where's your boyfriend?" or "Have you found a man yet?". The usual questions to drive a woman mad.

You got to the dinner at about 6:31 PM. Your parents yelled at you for being one minute late. You just rolled your eyes and sat on the couch. You talked with one of your cousins until your sister left her room. Your sister was always bugging you about a boyfriend or when you would get married and have a baby. The questions always drove you crazy and all you could say was "I don't know" when she asked.

Your sister sat next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "Here we go.." You thought to yourself. The questions would be starting soon.

"Hey, little sis! You got a man yet or are we all still waiting?" She asked with a laugh. Always making fun of you.

You awkwardly laughed before looking at her. "Nope. No more waiting. I got myself a man now." You said calmly just trying to get her to stop asking questions.

Your sister's eyes went wide as she looked at you. She cocked an eyebrow as she looked you up and down. "You...You got a man? What's he like?! Is he coming over tonight? Are you guys gonna have kids?!"

"Oh, Jesus.." Even telling her about your lover didn't get her to shut up. You just had to go with it. "I don't know about marriage yet and he definitely doesn't want any more kids. He's got some from past relationships. He should be coming tonight...I don't know where he is. I told him to be here by now.." You said as you now thought about Mick. Maybe he got lost in the storm? Maybe he just ditched because he was too scared of meeting your family. A million thoughts ran through your head before your mother called out.

"Dinners ready! Come on!" Your mother called from the dinner table. You watched as your cousins ran by and your sister stood up. You sat on the couch for a few more seconds before you got up and walked to the dinner table. You were just praying that Mick was okay.

You sat down near your mom. Your sister made everyone leave an empty chair next to you so your boyfriend could sit there whenever he showed up. Your mother looked over at you and smiled a little. "Y/N? Honey? Are you alright? You look like you have something on your mind." Your mom asked as she put a hand on your shoulder.

You jumped and looked at her. You gave her a nod. "Yeah, I'm alright. I'm just thinking about my boyfriend. He's a little late and I don't know where he is.."

Your mom sighed and took her hand off of your shoulder. "I'm sure he's alright. How about you tell me a little about what's been going on with you!" She said with a smile.

You told your mom a little about what had been going on with your life and your job as you ate dinner. Everyone was talking and laughing which helped calm you down a little.

Just as you had your mind off of Mick, the front door swung open and a cold breeze came into the kitchen. One of your cousins stood up and yelled at the figure at the door. When the door closed you stood up and your eyes lit up. Mick was standing in front of the door covered in snow.

Mick was in leather pants, a leather jacket, a sweater, and his stupid leather boots he wore year-round. He took off his sunglasses (It's the middle of winter WHO THE HELL WEARS SUNGLASSES). "I hate the fucking holidays.." He mumbled as he stomped the snow off of his boots. He looked over at you and smiled. "Hey..." He said quietly. "I got you some flowers.." He said as he held up a bouquet of red roses.

You ran to him and hugged him. The snow got on your clothes and made them a bit wet. "You idiot! I was worried about you! Where the hell were you?!" You asked as you looked at him and ran your fingers through his hair like you hadn't seen him in years.

Mick laughed a little and looked down at you. He gently patted your head before he pushed you off of him and took off his jacket. "I got stuck in traffic. There's a lot of people out tonight.."

You shook your head and took the roses from him. "Go sit down and get yourself some food..." You walked to the kitchen with a smile on your face. You were glad that Mick was okay and he made it safe.

After you put your flowers in a vase, you walked to the dinner table and sat down next to Mick. You punched him in the shoulder as hard as you could.

Mick grabbed his shoulder. "Ow! What the hell was that for?!" He asked as he looked at you.

"For being late!" You yelled back. You then grabbed his sweater and pulled him into a sweet kiss. "And that's for making it here safe!" You said with a smile.

This is my first time writing on Tumblr!!! I really like Mick Mars so I'm writing Mick Mars stuff. He's so bbg.

#mick mars #mick mars x reader #motley crue #mick mars fanfic

[prima-donna-worm]

sometimes all i think about is you

#coldwave #leonard snart #mick rory #legends of tomorrow #dccoldwave #fellas is it gay to be married to a man for 30 years #the file is titled isad.ai because i...sad #if you wanted to make yourself double jeopardy sad #you could think about lisa giving this to mick after len dies #and you could think about mick keeping it in his room or in his jacket pocket right above his heart #and you could think about them always figuring they were going to die young together in a blaze of glory or something eventually #and you could think about how mick never thought he'd have to learn to grow old without len #but like. i would Not Recommend that #anyway the rest of the song doesn't really work for them except that it's called heat waves and it makes me emo so #sarah arts #also to be clear they were not fighting each other len said something snarky to a kid twice his size and got decked so mick hit back

[restapesta]

hi emina! happy last week of no school ♥♥

15. “Finally. Missed you so much.” but make it sort of in front of other people??🙏🙏🙏 if u want. it's okay if not, too!

MONDAY

---

ian (1:11 AM): it's hot as fuck here. can't sleep.

ian (1:12 AM): also, lip snores

mickey (1:12 AM): that's what you get for leaving me

ian (1:13 AM): drama queen, i only left this morning. be back in just a week.

ian (1:13 AM): why are YOU awake?

mickey (1:14 AM): fuck you, just a week. 🖕🖕🖕

ian (1:14 AM): 🙄

ian (1:14 AM): go to sleep

mickey (1:15 AM): you woke me up???

ian (1:15 AM): doesn't matter. just go to sleep.

mickey (1:15 AM): probably not

ian (1:16 AM): ???

mickey (1:17 AM): can't sleep without you

incoming call from ian (1:17 AM)

---

TUESDAY

---

mickey (11:22 AM): college bitch still pissed at us for waking him up?

ian (11:25 AM): isn't speaking to me. bitched about it to fiona the entire morning.

ian (11:25 AM): "can't go a night without him." blah blah

mickey (11:25 AM): fuck him. wyd right now?

ian (11:27 AM): helping Fi with the moving shit.

ian (11:27 AM): you?

mickey (11:28 AM): lunch with tami. bitching about lip.

ian (11:29 AM): 😌

ian (11.29 AM): that same lip is currently screaming my ear off to get off the phone.

ian (11:29 AM): keep bitching, my love

mickey (11:30 AM): tell him to fuck off.

mickey (11:30 AM): also, call me when you're done

ian (11:31 AM): 😘

mickey (11:31 AM): 🙄🖤

(12:57 PM) incoming call from ian

(16:44 PM): incoming call from mickey

(21:44 PM) incoming call from ian

---

WEDNESDAY

---

mickey (09:06 AM): come back home, im bored.

mickey (09:06 AM): Fiona doesn't need you for an entire fucking week.

ian (09:10 AM): 😬 just five more days

ian (09:10 AM): Fiona says hi!

mickey (09:11 AM): I'm horny, this is stupid.

ian (09:12 AM): handy-dandy hand 😁

mickey (09:12 AM): 🖕🖕🖕🖕

mickey (09:13 AM): ...something to work with?

ian sent a link (09:14 AM)

mickey (09:15 AM): you did not just send me the benefits of a cold shower, you bitch.

ian (09:16 AM): loveeeeee youuuuuu

mickey (09:16 AM): 🙂🔪

incoming call from ian (12:33 PM)

incoming call from ian (17:29 PM)

incoming call from mickey (00:12 AM)

---

THURSDAY

---

ian (08:12 AM): I'm horny.

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): MICKEY

ian (08:14 AM): babyyyyyy

ian (08:14 AM): pleaseeeeee come on, you're not sleeping rn

mickey sent a link (08:16 AM)

ian (08:16 AM): i deserved that.

mickey (08:17 AM): handy-dandy 🤛

ian (08:17 AM): hate myself at this moment 🙂

mickey (08:17 AM): 🤭😘

-

ian (09:44 AM): coffee on facetime?

incoming call from mickey (09:45 AM)

---

FRIDAY

---

ian (14:22 PM): sorry for the ghosting

ian (14:22 PM): Fiona's been killing me with the whole apartment cleaning shit

ian (14:23 PM): And Lip's hiding from her so he's always with me.

ian (14:23 PM): i know it's been a day.

mickey (14:25 PM): well, well, look who decided to text their husband finally

mickey (14:25 PM): it's been a whole day, ian.

mickey (14:26 PM): we are no longer on speaking terms.

ian (14:26 PM): 😲😨

ian (14:26 PM): i'm sorry.

ian (14:26 PM): i miss having breakfast with you.

ian (14:27 PM): i miss sleeping with you

ian (14:27 PM): i miss kissing you

ian (14:28 PM): and doing other things with you 😏

ian (14:28 PM): miss you so fucking much.

ian (14:28 PM): mick?

mickey (14:30 PM): ugh fine, you sap

mickey (14:30 PM): call me

incoming call from ian (14:31 PM)

---

SATURDAY

---

incoming call from mickey (18:55 PM)

ian (19:24 PM): phone sex is cool, but we should try sexting 😳

mickey (19:26 PM): i don't need a reminder of your disgusting ass dick anywhere on my phone.

ian (19:26 PM): hm? 🤔 not what you were saying ten minutes ago.

ian (19:27 PM): you sure you ain't ready for round two? 😏

ian (19:27 PM): bet facetime sex is even better.

incoming call from mickey (19:28 PM)

-

ian (02:22 AM): i miss you. i really fucking miss you.

---

SUNDAY

---

ian (08:02 AM): flight is at 10

mickey (08:04 AM): i'll be waiting for you when you land.

---

It had only been a week. A week filled with phone calls and text messages and a whole bunch of facetime—but, fuck, it had been a week.

Did Ian really have to go on and visit Fiona alone with Lip? Was it really that necessary for him to travel all the way to the alligator land just so they could help Fiona switch apartments? Mickey didn't see the point of the long-ass trip to Florida just so Ian could complain about how humid it was and how it was a blessing he didn't share a room with Lip anymore.

Mickey missed him. He missed him a lot more than he thought he would, and he really should've considered the fact that he and Ian spent most of their time together. They may have been apart before for long periods of time, but it was hard to tear them away from each other nowadays.

So maybe it wasn't that much of a surprise he'd had a hard time adjusting to the empty space of their apartment and the coldness of their bed. The lack of dad jokes during their long rides at work and the unmistakable scent of Ian that had been slowly fading and was almost gone now.

That was Mickey's excuse for not doing laundry. He didn't wanna lose Ian's smell from their home. The sappy excuse would probably work with Ian, he thought.

And even if it didn't, Mickey could distract him from his annoyance in other ways.

Airports sucked.

Being in an airport, waiting on Ian and Lip with their family of twenty thousand—or six, whatever—sucked even more.

But the plane had already landed and it would be just another couple minutes before Mickey saw his husband for the first time in a week. Before he wrapped his arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. He didn't even give a shit if anybody saw him and thought how big of a fag he was.

Husband. That was the only thing on his mind currently.

"They should be here already," Tami said, bouncing Fred up on her hip.

Debbie shrugged from beside Mickey, one hand tightly holding onto the redheaded girl between them. She was fisting the fabric of Mickey's jacket, and it made Mickey smile. It eased the anticipation a little.

Who was he kidding? There were swarms of bees in his stomach, poking and stinging. He felt slightly nauseous.

"I think I see Lip!" It was Liam who exclaimed.

Mickey didn't see Lip.

But he did see the redhead trailing right behind him, a suitcase in his right hand, recently bought for the trip. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes were sleepy, the jet lag probably hitting him in full swing.

Still, the green orbs Mickey missed so much lit up the moment he noticed Mickey, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a wide smile.

Mickey wasn't any better. He could feel the grin stretching across his face involuntary, yet he did nothing to hide it. Nothing to stop it from spreading. He didn't care to hide the excitement he was feeling upon seeing Ian for the first time in a week.

A week.

His legs moved on their own accord, and in what felt like no time at all, he was engulfed into a hug, Ian's long arms circling him—it was familiar; comfortable, and warm.

"Fucking finally," Ian choked out against Mickey's hair, his lips pressed to the top of his head, cradling his body gently. "I missed you so much."

Mickey tilted his chin up and their lips connected in a brief kiss. Just a peck that turned into a couple more, all loud on the pullback, their limbs still wrapped up in each other.

"Missed you more."

They stared into each other's eyes longingly for a couple of moments—it was probably too soft and sappy for them, but who gave a shit? They hadn't seen each other in a week.

What interrupted them eventually were a few short coughs, as if somebody was clearing their throat.

Mickey glared at Lip, practically forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the man he was holding.

"We done with the reunion or you guys wanna continue making out in the middle of the airport...?"

Ian was the one who flipped him off, finally disentangling himself from Mickey so he could greet his siblings properly and pick Franny up into a long hug. It made Mickey frown, the loss of contact. He forced himself to endure it, though—half an hour of a ride longer and they'd be home alone, free to do whatever the fuck.

Still, as soon as they were done with the obligated reunions and the questions about Florida and Fiona, Ian found himself next to Mickey again, gripping Mickey's palm and intertwining the fingers with his own.

Who gave a shit if anybody was looking? Who gave a shit if Lip was rolling his eyes at the obvious display of affection or if Carl was making obnoxious kissy faces at them as if they haven't been married for a while now—Mickey saw none of that shit.

All Mickey saw was Ian.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #fanfic #*ficlet #AHHH THIS WAS DIFFERENT? #i liked writing it #I HAVE A LOT OF ASKS RN #so the content will keep coming :) #also thank you for the ask ❤️❤️❤️

[milligar]

I have been so rubbish at tumblr lately. Studying and writing my assignment is quickly taking over my life! I’ve tried to check out my feed when I can but I’ve missed tags and stuff so I’m so sorry to those that have tagged me and I’ve not responded!

In the little time I have had I should be working on chapter 8 of Educating Mickey which is about halfway complete but then I got an idea for this little story and well…

Can also be read on Ao3 here

—//—

Clothes maketh the man

It started out small. A new, more expensive hair gel appeared in the bathroom, and a better brand of body spray on his bedside table. Ian didn’t think too much of it at first. They had more money now that business was doing well and who was he to deny Mickey some little pleasures in life.

Then the magazines appeared. Just the odd one here and there. This wasn’t anything brand new, Mickey had always liked a magazine. Ian remembered watching him read through the entire rack when they worked together at the Kash and Grab. But lately there were less guns on the front and more fashionable looking men.

“Oo he’s cute,” Ian said, peeking over Mickey's shoulder as he flicked through his latest magazine on the couch.

“Yea, I think he’s the second hottest redhead I've ever seen,” Mickey replied with a smirk.

“Oh yeah? And who’s the first?” Ian asked, leaning down further and gently pressing his lips to Mickey's soft neck. God, he could kiss that neck forever.

“Ed Sheeran, obviously.” Or not. Ian pulled away and pushed at Mickey's head as his husband giggled.

“You’re an asshole.”.

“Shut up,” Mickey replied, turning and kneeling on the sofa so he was head to chest with Ian. “You know it’s you.” Tattooed hands pulled him down for a soft kiss.

“Who is that anyway?” Ian asked, nodding his head in the direction of the magazine as they pulled apart.

“The model? Hampus Luck. He’s Swedish,” Mickey turned back around and resumed his reading or, more accurately, his staring.

Ian’s jaw dropped, actually surprised that Mickey had known the name of the model, never mind where he was from. With a shrug he carried onto the kitchen to make coffee.

A few days later Ian was waiting in the living room for Mickey to finish getting ready for their date night. He’d been looking forward to this all week and had made reservations at the tapas bar down the block.

“Mickey, hurry the fuck up we’re going to be late!” Ian yelled down the hall.

“Alright, keep your hair on, I’ll just be a minute.” Ian rolled his eyes and continued to pace the living room and repeatedly check his watch.

Almost ten minutes later Mickey sauntered out of the hall, stopping Ian in his tracks. Mickey looked good. Better than good, he looked down right hot. But..

“Have you been stealing shit from the laundry again?” Ian asked, eying the soft leather jacket Mickey was wearing over a striped long sleeved t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled up slightly showing a cloth interior and Mickey’s strong forearms.

“What? No!” Mickey scowled at the accusation. “What the fuck Ian? Not quite the reaction I was going for.”

“I mean you look fucking hot, Mick. You change your hair?” Ian backtracked, dragging his eyes down and up Mickey’s body.

“Nah, just styled it a bit different,” he replied, poking at it a little. Mickey was clearly somewhat self conscious of the new look, not that he needed to be.

“You look amazing.” Ian confirmed this with a heated kiss, slipping his hand up the back of Mickey's neck until… “ow!”

Mickey was slapping his arm away.

“What the fuck Mickey?”

“Touch the hair and I will punch you,” Mickey said, seriously. “You and your big ass hands.” Ian backed away with his hands up in surrender. Clearly it wasn’t worth his life.

“So where did the jacket come from?” Ian was trying his best to ask casually as he gathered his wallet and keys from the side.

“I bought it.”

“When? Where from?” Ian clicked their front door closed and they made their way through the apartment block.

“Yesterday. When I went out with Tami, Freddie and baby Jaxs. We went to the mall and I saw it.” Mickey opened the door for him and he stepped through into the evening bustle. “Why are you mad I spent the money or something, ‘cause it’s not real leather you know. It wasn’t that expensive.”

“No! No, not at all, just strange you buying clothes, is all,” Ian said, slipping his hand into Mickey’s as they set off down the street. “Usually the only thing you buy, or should I say steal, are shirts to rip the sleeves off. Or Hawaiian shirts, what is that about?”

“I just liked it, it’s not a big deal Ian,” Mickey replied, clearly ignoring the slight on his Hawaiian shirts.

Ian shrugged. Mickey was right, it wasn't really a big deal.

Over the next few months Ian noticed a few other new things. A new pair of boots here. A new pair of jeans there. Slowly but surely Mickey’s wardrobe was changing. His husband was definitely getting better dressed with every new item that appeared. Ian’s current favourites were Mickey’s new black jeans that hugged his butt cheeks like they were long lost lovers. Mickey wore them with his new timberlands, a plain white t-shirt and long, almost knee length jacket.

“You really have acclimatised to the west side haven’t you?” Ian asked, snaking his hands inside the jacket and around Mickey’s middle.

“Fuck off,” Mickey replied half-heartedly, as he pushed his body against Ian’s and reached up for a kiss.

And so it went on, just little changes here and there until one day Ian was digging around in the closet and came across a pile of shopping bags. As he rummaged through the bags of clothes he found they were mainly from high street shops but it looked as if a couple of expensive items were mixed in there too.

“Mickey!?” he yelled across the apartment. “Can you come here for a second?”

Mickey swaggered into the bedroom, his new lounge pants hugging his thighs as he walked.

“What’s up… oh.” he came to a halt when he saw where Ian was standing and the colour drained from his face.

“What the fuck Mickey? Where has all this stuff come from?” Ian was pulling out the bags of clothes and dumping them haphazardly on the bed.

“Hey, be careful with those will ya, Jesus.” Mickey lunged forward and began straightening the bags, neatening up the items inside. “I bought them, okay?” he said, sheepishly.

“All of them? Mickey there must be a couple of hundred dollars worth of stuff here. Not to mention all the new stuff I’ve seen you wearing. What the fucks going on?” Ian stared at him with his hands on his hips. Mickey looked like he was about to close off, Ian knew that face well, he’d seen it a thousand times throughout their relationship.

“I just got carried away. I’ll return them,” Mickey said, turning back to the bags with a dejected look on his face.

“Hey, what’s going on, Mick? All these clothes, all these changes? Don’t get wrong you look fucking amazing, but I’d think you look amazing whatever you wore,” Ian said, sliding his hands onto Mickey’s hips from behind.

“Well it’s not about you, Gallagher,” Mickey spat, but there wasn’t much venom behind it. “I just like them. I didn’t get anything new when I was kid, unless I stole it, and I just wanted to look good in clothes that I chose, not ones that were handed down to me and I had to make do with.”

With his head hanging, Mickey slowly sifted through the bags looking at the items he’d purchased. “I know I got a little carried away recently. I was going to return some of this stuff anyway, I just…” he sighed. “I just want to fucking look good. For me, you know. I couldn’t do that as a kid, I mean, you met my fucking dad.”

Ian pushed on his hips, turning him so they were face to face. The look on Mickey’s face hurt his heart. He remembered that scared boy he’d met all those years ago. He thought he’d never see that boy again but here he was in front of him.

“I get it Mickey, you don’t need to return any of this, just maybe watch what you’re spending in the future. We have more money now but we’re not rich, just not poor.”

Mickey nodded with a smile. “I know,” he said. “If we do have kids though-“ Ian’s heart skipped a beat, Mickey never spoke of kids. “-they ain’t having any hand me downs. Ever. They get their own clothes.”

“Yea, okay,” Ian muttered, not quite sure how the conversation had got here but not wanting to scare Mickey out of it.

“You know why I started cutting the sleeves off of everything?” Mickey asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Because most of my clothes came from Iggy and Colin, fucking big bastards. The arms always hung over my hands and made me so mad. So I started cutting them off and then it kinda just became my style. I kinda liked having a style that was mine ya’know. Not like I could have taken an interest in clothes even if we had money. My dad would have beat me harder. I mean it is kinda gay.”

“Well, you’re kinda gay,” Ian smirked, moving closer to his husband.

“Yea, I am kinda gay,” Mickey replied, smiling as Ian leaned in to kiss him.

“And now you’re a stereotypical well dressed gay,” Ian teased, looking around Mickey at all the bags. “But seriously, no more shopping for a while.”

“Fine,” Mickey replied, going back to the bags to start putting things away. “Does it count if I buy things for you? You know, I’ve seen a few thing that would look-”

“Nope!” Ian started to make a hasty get out of the room. He should have known this was coming next.

“But Ian-“

“Fuck off, Mickey!” Ian left to the sound of his husband chuckling and bags rustling. He liked the new Mickey. Or rather not new, just freer. He just needed to keep him the fuck away from his wardrobe.

#ian and mickey #mickey milkovich #gallavich #gallavich fanfic #shameless #ian gallagher and mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher

[y0itsbri]

Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

--

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

--

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

--

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

--

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)

#i might have an idea for a sequel/series if anyone is interested: mandy pov of this and another one shot in their relationship era??? #who knows #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mandy milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #svetlana yevgenivna #my posts

[arsenicalikat]

Gallavich AO3 Rec List

alikatastic AO3 Works

Who else would?

Summary

Mickey always thought Ian was strangely soft. When Debbie came in crying he thought she had come to the wrong brother but he was wrong. In reality, who else would be tough enough to be fucking Mickey Fucking Milkovich? Ian Gallagher apparently.

Language: English Words: 1,016 Chapters: 1/1

Maybe we should dump him in the river?

Summary

Why don't you ever hit back? Because if I started I'd never stop. What if Ian finally hit back? What if he told Lip I told you so? What if Mickey saw it all?

Language: English Words: 1,752 Chapters: 1/1

I wouldn't have said it if I knew he was here.

Summary

Mickey stops by the Gallagher house after work because he is worried for his Gallagher. What he finds reminds him that life is short, and maybe he shouldn't miss important moments. Like kissing the boy he loves and teaching Carl how to fire a gun.

Language: English Words: 2,873 Chapters: 1/1

I don’t exist without you!

Summary

Let's see if we can do it better this time around?

Nothing in the world could have prepared Mickey to be seeing seventeen-year-old Ian standing on the stairs of his house again. This was when it changed for all of them. Ian would break his heart, and Sammi would come charging around the corner with a gun. He pulled out his phone, quickly dialing 911.

"There is some crazy bitch running up and down the road with a gun. She keeps saying I tried to kill her." Ian looked around, confused. "Go inside; Sammi has a gun."

Language: English Words: 8,414 Chapters: 1/1

He's just a kid, man!

Summary

Violence in the south side was expected. The moment you popped out of your mother's womb, you were tossed into a cycle of doing unto others what has been done unto you. There was no room for softness. There was no crying in bloody knuckles and haymakers. Ian ran away from his abusive father at the age of 8. He promised no one would ever treat him like a punching bag ever again; too bad he didn't know there were worst things to be than a punching bag. The next thing he knew, Iggy Milkovich was trying to be his friend. He was buying him new jackets and punching abusive clients.

Language: English Words: 12,955 Chapters: 1/1

It works best if you give a description of someone we both know

Summary

Ian's reaction to Terry walking in on them never sat well with me. So, what if Ian actually fought back? What if Iggy showed up and was a good brother? What if we saw more of the Gallagher manipulations from Ian? What if we kind of got a happy ending?

Language: English Words: 1,658 Chapters: 1/1

Have you talked to Mick about it?

Summary

The night before the wedding Ian and Lip talk about Ian's old boyfriends. They talk about the dark days with Caleb, who was abusive. What do you do when someone has control over your entire life and your mind stabilizing drugs? Ian didn't think it mattered because it was old news, but Mickey disagreed. How does Mickey react when he finds out some man out there hurt his Gallagher in ways no one should ever be hurt?

Language: English Words: 1,960 Chapters: 1/1

It's Going to Kill Me

Summary

"You don't get to fucking do that." He shook Ian with all his might. "You don't get to say things like I love you and fucking leave." "Mick," Ian started. "No! you fucking listen. I have done everything I can to keep you safe." Ian shoved him, "You don't get it! It's going to kill me! I can't stay here; I can't pretend I don't love you." "Then don't." Mickey had convinced him to stay, and they built a family together with Svetlana, and the three of them raised a beautiful boy named Yev. Everything was going great until Ian got sick.

Language: English Words: 25,372 Chapters: 1/1

Times Remembered

Summary

You never want to talk about some things, especially when you don’t see it as a problem. Ian rarely spoke about his childhood with Mickey because it never seemed that bad in comparison, but sometimes it slipped out. Or Three times Mickey was reminded that Ian had a crappy childhood too.

Language: English Words: 1,575 Chapters: 1/1

Broken Nose and Uttered Words

Summary

The day you were born, you were etched with your soulmate’s first words. For many, that sparked joy and filled them with excitement, but Ian stared at his with disdain. He knew exactly who his soulmate was, and he wished he could hate him. Most people’s parents looked at soulmate marks with love and care, but not his. The only thing his mother had ever done right was cover his mark from day one. Sure his father still knew what it said, but no one else did, and that was a good thing. Because his soulmate obviously hated him.

Language: English Words: 1,389 Chapters: 1/1

One Broken Nose Too Many

Summary

Frank Gallagher had never went out of his way to help Ian, but he needed to get up to bed. He shouldn’t have drunk so much. Ian should have seen it coming, but the beer dulled his senses. Frank had headbutted him again, sending Ian back to the couch with a laugh.

Language: English Words: 1,398 Chapters: 1/1

Hurricane Monica

Summary

They had looked everywhere, or so they thought. They had no clue what had happened since Ian left home, but they never thought they would be getting a call from Monica worried about him. Mickey scoured the streets for weeks trying to locate Ian. When Lip stopped by saying Monica called, he didn’t hesitate to follow him anywhere. Mickey slipped through the house, swinging his light back and forth. When he saw his redhead, his heart stopped. Ian was curled in a ball in the corner of a dark room. His eyes were open, and that is what startled Mickey. He thought for sure he was dead, but he saw Ian blink and pull wet breathe. No one was prepared for the condition Ian would come home in, but if anyone could help, it was Mickey Milkovich.

Language: English Words: 6,169 Chapters: 1/1

Scenes that could have happened in 11'08 and after

Summary

This is my take on what could have happened after everything went down on 11x08. with Terry and Frank and Ian and Mickey.

Series

Part 1 of Gallavich angst/comfort snapshots

Language: English Words: 1,699 Chapters: 1/1

Evicted!

Summary

After Frank punched Ian in a booze-fueled confused state, they had fallen asleep before Mickey asked any of his burning questions, and Ian was glad for it. He dreaded to imagine what his nightmare had been if he had to talk more bout it if he had to tell Mickey about Frank shoving him from a moving car as he screamed evicted. Frank had never beat him like Terry beat his kids. It was always little stupid things, like shoving his face towards a hot eye on the stove or kicking him in the back of the knee while he was on the stairs.

Series

Part 2 of Gallavich angst/comfort snapshots

Language: English Words: 1,748 Chapters: 1/1

We're moving to the West Side

Summary

Frank had left him in the basement for three days. He had only heard bits and pieces, but he knew Frank was a shitty dad. He was drug back to prison, watching Ian pace like a caged animal. He never really thought about it. Mickey sipped his coffee, lost in thought. He was thinking of the nights Ian would wake up in a cold sweat and hop out of his bunk to run his fingers along the cell door. It had been irritating, but Mickey never said anything. Prison made people claustrophobic, so he never thought it could be something else. He had more burning questions, though. How often was he locked up? How young was he when it started? Was it always at this house?

Series

Part 3 of Gallavich angst/comfort snapshots

Language: English Words: 1,789 Chapters: 1/1

Let his ashes float away in the wind

Summary

The pain Ian felt in his chest made no sense to him. He wasn’t sad or hurt, or he shouldn’t be. He didn’t feel anger; he knew that for a fact, but he couldn’t place the emotion he did feel. Ian scoffed to himself. Is he supposed to grieve a man who wasn’t his father? A man who had hurt him and neglected him? He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like he was. None of it made any sense, but at least he hadn’t cried. He was strangely numb until Mickey asked him if he was okay. Then that stupid emotion had bubbled in his chest.

Language: English Words: 2,515 Chapters: 1/1

Panic at the Whole Foods!

Summary

Ian has a panic attack at Whole Foods, and Mickey doesn't know why. Ian tells him about a time where he was hurt, and Mickey makes him feel better.

Language: English Words: 3,086 Chapters: 1/1

I’m a damn good f*ck

Summary

Ian froze. Lip had just called him fat. Never had he been anything other than a skinny twink, or that’s what most of the men he’s met had said. He looked down, noticing his stomach was not flat anymore. He had lost his abs in prison, but he had been fit, muscular even. Mickey shows him that he is sexy as f*ck, and he loves him no matter what!

Language: English Words: 3,055 Chapters: 1/1

Fucking Mother's Day

Summary

Mother’s day. Fucking Mother’s day was coming up. The year before, they had skated past it without thinking about it. They had just gotten married, and Ian didn’t realize that they had missed it until a week later. The guilt ate him alive. He hadn’t been there when she died. He had betrayed Mickey and left him at the border, and all had had to show for it was a felony and a dead mother.

Language: English Words: 1,964 Chapters: 1/1

The Bridge

Summary

Ian had burned every bridge there was to burn. He no longer had any dreams or aspirations with his future ruined and Mickey in prison. He was numb, and there seemed to be only one answer. There was one more bridge, but it wasn't one to burn; it was a final stop. When all hope seems to be lost, one phone call changes everything.

Language: English Words: 1,391 Chapters: 1/1

Juvie Blues

Summary

Ian didn’t owe him anything, but it had been nice to see him every week. He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten until that pedo walked in on them. He had gone to Juvie instead of outing himself, but months later he saw something he had never expected. Ian Fucking Gallagher in Juvie. What the fuck?

Language: English Words: 1,634 Chapters: 1/1

#ian gallagher/mickey milkovich #mickey gallagher #gallavich #mickeyxian #fanfiction #fanfic #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfiction #ian gallagher #frank gallagher

[thesmokingguns]

Wedding Season

Tommy

-Welcome to the Wedding Date expert

-Getting ready together and he matches his bow tie to your dress

-“Can you help me?” Helping him tie his bow tie and he uses the moment where you’re so close that he can kiss you

-Well you’re finishing getting ready he makes sure the car is out front.

-“Wow, babe, you’re going to make the bride jealous”

-Double checking to make sure that you have the gift and adding more money to the card

- Hes so excited to go to this wedding together and have a good time celebrating people

-Hes going to talk about all his favorite parts of the ceremony and things that he enjoys or would want in the future

“I love love”

-He is a wedding guest expert. He seems to know all the wedding coordinators and people working the event

-“Hey Sherry, another beautiful event!”

-He brings you a glass of champagne during cocktail hour and wants to talk about the vows

-“I don’t want to get married in a church. Maybe a cool Japanese garden or on the beach. I’d write my vows too. None of that obey shit. What do you think, babe?”

-He tips the band at cocktail hour and drags you out, making you laugh as you dance

-Introduces you to all his friends

-“I can’t wait to see you in a white dress”

-He is slamming his silverware against the glass to have the couple kiss all night

-Tommy will wander off to talk to someone so he’s not by your side all night but he waves at you and sends smiles your way

-He comes up with a plan so you catch the bouquet and he gets the garter

-“Throw some elbows of you have to”

-He breaks a chair jumping off it to catch the garter and almost lands on some guys.

-He offers to pick you up and give you extra height so you catch the bouquet

-“THATS MY FUCKING GIRL!” he’s amped that you caught the bouquet

-He thinks he’s going to something so sexy putting the garter on you but as he gets a view at what would be your underwear he sees you’re not wearing any.

-“Babe!”

-Laughing because you knew exactly what was going to happen as he slides the garter on you in front of his family. He’s blushing and it’s both cute and hysterical how flustered he is

-Tommy putting his jacket over your shoulders as you head up to the hotel room after

-“We should get married this summer”

-You’ve been dating for two months and it’s March

Vince

-Imagine that you’ve just spent two hours getting yourself fully ready and you’re about to leave for a wedding and down the stairs comes your man child boyfriend fully dressed in a three piece tuxedo complete with a top hat alll in white

-“What do you think?”

-He does a spin, pulls the lapels of his jacket and is smiling proud of his outfit.

-Dragging him to his room to change into a new suit

-Pouty Princess in the passenger seat of the car as you drive to the wedding

-Trying to reassures him that when it’s his wedding he can wear a white suit

-“You’ll let me wear white to our wedding?”

-He’s so sincere when he says it’s so he is holding your hand you agree even though it’s been over four years and he hasn’t really showed any interest in settling down

-Vince will talk shit about everything that he doesn’t like

-He keeps referring to “our” wedding

-he takes full advantage of the open bar and he just is getting hammered

-“I think I want pink and white roses. Like a whole fucking garden of them.”

-Having to tell him to stop talking about a fake wedding at a real wedding

-Pouty Princess gets really mad and goes to pout at the bar

-He gets up on stage and starts singing because he hates the live band

-Coaxing him off stage promising that you’ll dance with him

-“I want to go home. This club sucks.”

-Just reminding him that you’re at a wedding for your close friends

-Vince goes outside and you spend twenty minutes looking for him. You follow the sound of someone puking and find him wiping his mouth

-“they gave me the cheap stuff, honey. it’s not my fault.”

-He won’t be dragged out of the garden easily and you’re fucking horrified when he gets down on one knee at a wedding

-“Honey, I love you so much. I’ve been trying all week to figure out the best place to do this-“

-he suddenly is patting his suit and realizes that he changed before they left

-“We need to go home.” He’s standing up and you want to die of embarrassment as he’s dragging you through the wedding where a few of these people just saw him on one knee

-Anxious leg bouncing in the car, window down because he might puke again

-He’s falling up the stairs when he gets home ripping apart his white suit.

-Running down the stairs he finds you and gets down on one knee again

-“I have the ring this time.”

-Hes kind of a huge idiot but you like that he has a plan. Also you’re worried because you’re going to marry bridezilla

Mick

-If it wasn’t one of his bandmates weddings he wouldn’t be going

-If he wasn’t in the wedding party there is no way that he would wear a suit

-When he is waiting with one of the bridesmaids he’s paired with hands him her flask

-“I’m trying to stay sober to keep everyone in check”

-She scoffs and he turns to see her chugging it down before giving him another chance go to take it., which he does downing the rest of it.

-Trying to make sure all the guys are doing the right thing and keep everyone alive

-Taking pictures he finds out that the mystery bridesmaid is the brides best friend from childhood

-“I’m going to the bar.”

-He decides he needs to just have sex with someone at the wedding as a reward for actually coming here

-Looking at the wedding guests and wondering if he’s going to be alone forever

-Thinking about what a waste weddings are and how they should have saved their money

-Knows that bride shouldn’t be in pure white

-The flowers make him sneeze

-The bridesmaid is at the end of the bar and he is suddenly handed a drink she has bought him. He watches as she cheers the airs downing the three fingers of white alcohol in one sip before walking away.

-“Oh no you fucking don’t.”

-He is trying to find this girl who keeps showing up with alcohol

-Mick keeps loosing his clothes. His jacket is lost, his vest is unbuttoned and the bow tie is untied

-“Fucking Women”

- he spots her headed into the elevator and frowns when it closes. When it reopens he sees red lipstick kisses around 7

-“If she put her mouth on that...”

-He’s slamming the lucky number 7 as fast as he can

-When the door open he sees a shoe and a few paces away another one.

-As he’s walking and sees her dress and her underwear is hanging on the doorknob

-“Women like this is why I’m never getting married”

-He opens the door and he’s glad he made it go the wedding

Nikki

-“Angel, you’re going to make us late!”

-He is indiffernt about going to weddings. One part of him likes socializing and seeing people and the other part of him hated leaving the house

-Checking his watch and getting ready to go through you over his shoulder so they could leave

-When he sees her coming down the stairs he doesn’t want to go to the wedding anymore and he lets her know

-Nikki kind of is a huge show off so we plans on pulling up in this Porsche

-He wants to spend the entire time with his lady

-Even as they sit through the vows he’s reaching out running his hand over your hands

-Leaning over to whisper, “This reminds us of our wedding.”

-kissing your knuckles

-Always touching you and seeming almost anxious whenever of you steps away

-Hand on your back when you’re talking to other people, holding your hands when you’re walking and just a weakling his arms around to kiss as much as possible

-“I’m so happy you’ll always be my wedding date, Angel.”

-Checking in throughout the night to make sure that you’re okay and having a good time

-“excuse me, I’m going to steal her for this song”

-Has requested your wedding song and is slow dancing telling you all the reasons that he loves you

-Nikki loves holding you when you dance even if he hates dancing

-Taking you out to cool down and walk along the beach together

-He throws down his jacket sitting on it and pulling you into his lap

-He had literally scoped out a place where you two could make out or go further

-“you looked so beautiful, Angel. I couldn’t wait until we got home”

-Going back to everyone at the party and he’s just giving you this look the whole time like he can’t get you out of his mind

-Nikki talks to the groom about what makes marriage so great

-“You wake up to the most beautiful view every morning no matter where in the world you are”

-Being at the wedding just reminds him how happy he is to be married

-Watching his wife dancing with the girls and smiling at how she always has fun

-When Nikki’s at the bar with the guys he sees you bent down talking to the flower girl and starts thinking of you as a mother

-Nikki knows it will be a few years away because he can’t share you yet

-Smiling when you slide into his lap, holding you to him and knowing you’re going to leave soon

-“I love you.”

-Wedding season is the best for this sentimental gummy bear

#nikki sixx #motley crue #mötley crüe #tommy lee #vince neil #daddy sixx #mick mars #nikki six fanfic #nikki sixx x oc #motley crue imagine #Motley Crue head cannon #headcanon

[arrowflier]

Dork in Dress-Up

So much of that photoshoot on my dash still when I got up this morning, so all day I’ve been thinking about Mickey seeing it.  Here’s Mickey reacting to Ian being all fancy.  Edit: there is now an extension in the comments because I can

Mickey looks up from his phone when the floor creaks, and spots Ian coming out of the bathroom.  Except that he barely looks like the Ian he knows, the dork that goes around in camo shirts and worn jeans and looks like nothing more than an overgrown puppy.  This man is different—hair smoothed back, sleek black slacks showing off spider-long legs, white button-down shirt straining against his chest.  Mickey has seen him before—at their wedding, for one—but sightings were rare.

Rare and, though he’d never admit it, highly anticipated.

“The fuck are you wearing?” is all Mickey manages to say through his suddenly dry mouth.

“It’s a suit, Mick,” Ian answers with an eye-roll, coming into the room to root through the mess on top of their dresser.  “I’m a chaperone for Liam’s school dance, remember?”

Mickey snorts.  “Right.”  He watches as Ian finds what he was looking for, a small rectangular nametag, and clips it to the neck of his shirt.  “Forgot they roped you into that shit.”  

Ian moves to grab a slim-cut black suit jacket from the closet, shrugging it on.  It hides his pale, freckled forearms where the shirt sleeves had ridden up, and Mickey isn’t sure if he’s sorry for the loss or glad that it’s gone before anyone else sees.

“Why you gotta dress up though?” he asks, licking his lips and raising an eyebrow.  “Look like a fuckin’ twink, man.”

Ian sighs.  “It’s a formal, Mickey,” he reminds him as he sits on the edge of the bed to put on shiny black shoes.

“Sure, for the kids,” Mickey responds.  “Don’t see what you need to be all done up for, though, you’re not impressin’ anybody.”  He fucking better not be.  Those damn middle-aged moms better not be getting any ideas when Ian rolls up looking like this.

“Oh, I’m not?”  Ian asks archly, standing.  He swaggers to Mickey’s side of the bed, leans over him.  “You don’t see something you like then?” he says more quietly, smirking as he brings his face within inches of Mickey’s.

“I ain’t gonna be there, am I, hot stuff?” Mickey counters, eyes flicking from green eyes to pink lips and back.

“You could be,” Ian offers, and at that Mickey has to laugh.  He won’t even address what a bad idea that is—Mickey Milkovich, the old neighborhood thug, playing dress-up in a room with the kids of people he used to beat down on the regular.  He doesn’t need to, because there’s another reason he shouldn’t go, one that should be just as obvious to his husband.

“Please,” Mickey murmurs, reaching out to grab Ian by the chin.  “Kids don’t wanna see what we’d get up to.”  

Ian hums as he’s pulled into a filthy kiss with entirely too much tongue.  Mickey tries to slide the jacket off his shoulders, but Ian bites his lip in reprimand, pulling back.  

“I gotta go, Mick,” he says, but soothes the bite and the words with a softer brush of lips.  Mickey watches with hooded eyes as he backs away, straightening his fancy clothes and running a hand through his hair to check it.

“Pick this up when I get back?” Ian asks with a small smile.

“Sure,” Mickey answers as his husband makes for the door.  “But uh…” Mickey thumbs his nose.  “Maybe keep all that fancy shit on.  You know, when you get back.”

Ian’s grin widens until it encompasses his whole face.  “Yeah?” he asks.

Mickey nods once, and stretches against the pillows, watching Ian watch him.  “Fuck yeah,” he responds.  He toys with the hem of his own shirt with one hand.  “And, uh, you better hurry back.”

Ian stumbles on his way out, his eyes still on Mickey, and Mickey laughs again.  Yup, that’s his dork under the fancy-ass clothes, he thinks as he eyes Ian’s retreating back.  And damn, he can’t wait for him to come back.

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #dress-up

[storiesforallfandoms]

be like daddy ~ nikki sixx;the dirt

word count: 1239

request?: yes!

“Can you do a Nikki Sixx x wife reader one-shot where it’s 1995 and they have a 3 year old daughter and they take her trick or treating for the first time and they visit Tommy, Mick, and Vince’s houses along the way?”

description: in which you dress your daughter up like her biggest hero for halloween: her daddy

pairing: nikki sixx x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

*also, just a note, i’m gonna be adding vince’s daughter, skylar, in this even though she died two months before the halloween of 1995, just because i don’t want this to be a sad imagine when vince is introduced*

Your three year old daughter, Caroline, raced down the stairs into her father’s music room. She had just finished putting on her costume and was so excited to show her dad.

“Daddy, daddy, look!” she exclaimed as she bounded into his arms.

Nikki smiled at her as he looked at her costume. She had been growing out her jet black hair, the same color as his own, for months, and you helped to pick out her outfit and paint the familiar black makeup under her eyes.

Nikki looked at her, his eyes becoming noticeably wetter. “Well, this is like looking in a mirror.”

“I’m just like you, daddy!” she announced proudly. “I even have a guitar like yours!”

“A bass, honey,” you corrected her. “Why don’t you go get it to show daddy?”

Caroline quickly raced back up to her room. Nikki approached you and wrapped his arms around you. He placed a light kiss on your lips.

“So, did she decide this costume, or did you?” he asked.

“She did,” you assured him. “She came up to me a few weeks ago and asked me to help her look just like her daddy for Halloween, but made me promise I wouldn’t tell you. I pinky swore and everything.”

“Can’t break a pinky swear,” Nikki teased before kissing your forehead.

Caroline bounded down the stairs again, this time carrying a carboard cut out of a bass that you had helped her make. Nikki smiled at his precious little girl again and picked her up in his arms. “You better be careful baby, you just might steal my spot in the band.”

With the mention of his band, Caroline’s face lit up. “Daddy, can we go see my uncles?! Please?!”

You and Nikki shared a knowing look. Caroline loved the boys, and they loved Caroline. Tommy viewed her as his own daughter, and she was best friends with Vince’s daughter, Skyler. Even Mick had a soft spot for your beautiful baby girl, not that he’d ever admit it.

“Of course you can, honey,” you told her. “Let’s go get a jacket and something for your candy and we’ll get going.”

Caroline wiggled out of Nikki’s arms and tugged on his hand, trying to get the two of you to follow her quicker. You both laughed and followed the excited little girl.

~~~~~~

Your first stop was Tommy’s place. Caroline excitedly knocked on the door. When he opened the door, Tommy immediately took the little girl in his arms.

“Hey there squirt!” he said as he lifted her from the ground in a tight hug. “Happy Halloween.”

“You’re supposed to let me say Trick or Treat, Uncle Tommy!” Caroline said.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey.” Tommy placed her on the ground again. “Go ahead.”

“Trick or treat!”

Tommy smiled as you and Nikki came up behind Caroline. “Happy Halloween, drummer.”

“Happy Halloween,” Tommy said. “Come in, I have special snacks for my favorite girl.”

The mention of treats caused Caroline to race into Tommy’s house excitedly. You smiled as you followed her inside.

Tommy brought Caroline into the kitchen and sat her up on the counter. He rummaged through a bag he had. He pulled out two full bars and a can of soda, slipping it into Caroline’s bag before you or Nikki could protest.

“Tommy, you can’t give her soda,” you told him as Caroline excitedly thanked her uncle. “She’s too young to drink soda.”

“Come on, (Y/N), you can’t tell me you were never excited to get a full chocolate bar and a can of soda on Halloween,” Tommy said. “I always said I’d be that cool when I grew up, and I have to get the best treats for my best girl.”

Tommy kissed Caroline’s head as she reached into her bag, trying to grab the chocolate bars to eat. You had to take them from her and gently remind her that she couldn’t eat her Halloween candy already.

“We’ll be calling you when she’s still bouncing off the walls at 2am,” Nikki told Tommy, playfully hitting his arm, but still hitting it hard enough to make Tommy wince in pain.

~~~~~~

Next stop was Mick. A small smile came on his face for a split second when he saw Caroline on his doorstep.

“Hey Nikki, you’ve gotten smaller,” he commented.

“It’s me, Uncle Mick!” Caroline giggled.

“What? No way, you look just like Nikki.”

“That’s cause he’s my dad!”

Mick’s smile was much more obvious as he held a finger up for Caroline to wait a moment. He went into his house and returned with a handful of candy for the little girl.

“You’re my first trick or treater, so I’ll give you a bunch of candy,” he explained. “And for mommy and daddy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Mick passed you both cans of beer.

“I’d invite you guys in, but my back is acting up tonight. I don’t even think I’ll be welcoming trick or treaters much tonight.”

“That’s alright, Mick. You know you can call us if you need anything,” you told him.

Mick nodded. “I know. And I hope you know you’re far too good for Nikki here.”

You chuckled and nodded. “You guys tell me that often.”

~~~~~~

Skylar Neil answered the door dressed in a fake ball gown and a fake tiara. She smiled at Caroline and immediately hugged her tightly. “You came just in time! Me and daddy were about to go trick or treating!”

“Can I go with them? Please?!” Caroline begged.

You and Nikki shared a look before Nikki said, “Of course you can, honey. But you know you have to be home by dark, okay? And make sure Uncle Vince has you home by then and he doesn’t try to keep you out late.”

“I will!” She kissed the both of you before following Skylar into the house. You and Nikki stepped into Vince’s house to wait for the singer to come down to the porch.

The familiar head of blonde hair appeared soon enough. “Hey guys! I didn’t even know you were here.”

“Skylar sort of hijacked our entrance,” Nikki admitted. “Be careful taking Caroline around, okay? And have her back before dark. And don’t feed her any of her candy yet, she’s not getting any until tomorrow morning.”

“Geez, enough rules,” Vince teased. “But I promise I’ll have her back. Skylar has to be back to Sharise’s before dark anyways.”

You and Nikki nodded and said goodbye to Vince. The ride home was silent for a while. You could tell Nikki was thinking about something. “What’s on your mind rockstar?”

“I can’t believe she wanted to be me,” Nikki said. “Did she really ask to be me for Halloween?”

You took Nikki’s hand in yours and nodded. “Yes baby, she really did. She was so excited about it, she almost let it slip so many times. She wanted to keep it a secret so she could surprise you today.”

Nikki shook his head, very obviously trying to keep his tears back again. “I just...I never thought I’d ever even have a kid, let alone that they would want to be me for Halloween.”

“She idolizes you, baby,” you reminded him. “You’re her hero.”

Nikki shook his head again. “God, I love her so much. And you. You’re both my world, I hope you guys know that.”

You nodded. “We know, baby. And you’re our world, too.”

This kinda sucks but I didn’t have any ideas for it...sorry :(

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx x reader #douglas booth #douglas booth imagine #douglas booth x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #blurb

[singledarkshade]

Scarred By Time

Part Three (Part One and Part Two.) Sara looked up when someone knocked on her office door, finding Zari standing there.

“It’s Friday night,” Zari said, “Are you coming out with us?”

“Yeah,” Sara replied.

Zari frowned, “What are you working on? Because we finished our last job only an hour ago and nothing else has come through.”

Wincing Sara turned her screen round to show the other woman.

“You’re researching the boss?” Zari asked.

Sara frowned at her, “Quietly, I’m trying to do this off network, so the AI doesn’t know.”

“Then you shouldn’t be doing it here,” Zari rolled her eyes, “Come to the bar.”

Shutting down the computer, Sara grabbed her jacket and followed the other woman to the elevator.

Gideon appeared when they reached the lobby and nodded to them, “Good night, Miss Lance, Miss Tomaz, enjoy your weekend.”

“You too,” Zari replied as they walked out.

Sara chuckled as they headed to her bike.

“What?” Zari demanded confused as Sara smiled amused at her.

“You too?” Sara asked, “To the computer.”

Zari grimaced, squirming uncomfortably, “I know but she is quite life-like.”

Rolling her eyes, Sara climbed on the bike and put her helmet on as Zari did the same getting on behind her.

“I know I wanted a lift tonight,” she muttered as she gripped the blonde’s waist, “But I was sure you had a car.”

“Why are you researching the boss?” Zari asked as she took a long drink of her mocktail.

Sara shrugged, “There’s something off about this whole thing. Don’t you think?”

“Like what?” Zari motioned her to continue as she grabbed one of the chips.

“I can’t put it in words but Hunter…” Sara trailed off and sighed, “There is something about him that I don’t trust.”

Zari stared at her, “Why?”

Sara sighed, “It’s just how he only gives us our jobs then doesn’t talk to us otherwise. Any updates go through the computer.”

“He might just be one of those people who believe work and personal are two separate things,” Zari noted.

“Don’t you think it’s odd he lives in the building with the two guys who barely come near us?” Sara asked, “Then there’s how he’s always covered from head to toe, not to mention he always wears those gloves.”

Shrugging Zari mused, “I suppose so. There could be any number of reasons for how he dresses. Possibly just horrible fashion sense.”

“Forget his dress sense,” Sara said, pulling out her tablet, “I can’t find anything on him before TM Consultancy exists.”

“What do you mean?” Zari took the computer from her friend.

“I’ve searched everything and there’s mentions but nothing other than a line or two,” Sara says, “Then, TM Consultancy opened, and there is a load of information except anything personal.”

Zari shrugged, “I suppose it might just be he kept out the public eye.”

“It’s just…” Sara trailed off annoyed before finishing, “Frustrating.”

Staring at the blonde an amused smile touched her lips and she chuckled, “You don’t know the answers and that drives you nuts.”

Sara rolled her eyes, “You have to admit there is something odd about the entire thing. The jobs we were offered out of nowhere, the money, the fact three of them and a computer were running that place before we joined.”

“It is odd,” Zari agreed, “I’ve shared probably three words with Mick and John since we started. They both leave the room really fast whenever one of us enters.”

“See,” Sara cried, “Odd.”

Zari nodded finishing her drink, “So, what do we do?”

“Keep our eyes open,” Sara told her.

                                 *********************************************

 “Miss Lance is looking into your background, Captain,” Gideon noted as Rip finished his dinner.

He smiled slightly and took a drink of his tea.

Tilting her head in confusion, Gideon demanded, “You’re happy about this?”

“Why would you think that, Gideon?” Rip asked innocently, chuckling at her annoyed look, “I need Sara to become suspicious.”

Gideon looked surprised, “Why?”

“The more suspicious Sara becomes,” Rip explained, “The more likely she will go poking around and find the Waverider. Once she does then her memories of the real world will begin to filter in which in turn will help her understand why she needs to recant her wish.”

Gideon mused on that before asking, “Why did we hire the four of them if you just need Miss Lance?”

“Sara needed a team to work with,” Rip explained, “You know how much she likes to be in charge.”

“That does not explain Miss Tomaz,” Gideon noted, “She was not originally from this time.”

Rip smiled slightly, he had been waiting for Gideon to start questioning this, “Zari is a hacker who will be able to help Sara to get into the systems she needs to find the ship. Ray likes mysteries as much as Sara but he is not the best hacker so I felt Zari would be the best option and Nate, well he made up the numbers.”

“This seems awfully complicated, Rip,” Gideon said, “Why not just tell her?”

Rip shook his head, “Because she would never believe the story if I simply told her.”

“That is a good point,” Gideon conceded.

“I felt it would be best if she has a mystery to solve,” Rip continued, “And a team to work with.”

Gideon frowned, “So once more, she will think you are her enemy.”

Rip reached out and took her hand, “I’m used to being the bad guy in their eyes, Gideon. I can do it again.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Gideon whispered, “I hate listening to them speak about you in that manner. You are a good man, a kind man who has done all you can to protect time and people who did not deserve your protection.”

Smiling softly Rip gently cupped her cheek, “I do not deserve you.”

“The annoying newly minted Captain who came onboard full of himself all those years ago did not deserve me,” Gideon reminded him.

Rip winced, “I was a little arrogant back then.”

“You wanted to be the best,” Gideon reminded him, “You wanted to prove to Druce that he was right to bring you there. It took some time, but I finally managed to mould you into a worthy Captain and someone I am very proud of.”

Smiling amused Rip nodded, “I’m just glad you never gave up on me.”

“Miranda made me promise to look after you,” Gideon said airily, “No matter how much you annoyed me.”

Rip smiled slightly, “I didn’t deserve her either.”

“She was far too good for you,” Gideon teased with a sly smile before she added, “But she loved you.”

“One of the few truths in my life,” Rip replied softly.

Taking his hand, Gideon placed a soft kiss on the palm, “I am another, Rip. I promise.”

“I know,” Rip stroked her cheek, “And I am grateful every day to have you with me.”

                                 *********************************************

 “Good morning, Miss Lance.”

Sara frowned as Gideon, the AI, met her at the door to the building.

“Dr Hunter has asked that you meet him in his office as soon as you have your morning coffee,” she gave the blithe smile that annoyed Sara so much.

The fact Gideon controlled the building didn’t bother her much, it was the pretence of being human that irked Sara.

Hunter acted like she was and had access to tech which allowed him to interact with the hologram but refused to let any of them use it.

Not even Rory or Constantine.

What was even stranger was Sara had spotted them talking one day, he turned to look out the window and Gideon had rested her hand on Hunter’s back. It was almost like he could feel her touch.

And that made Sara even more suspicious.

Heading up in the elevator, Sara mused over everything she’d noticed over the past few months. Walking through the office, she wondered if Hunter had ever had other people working here before them.

As she reached the cafeteria, Sara found the other Englishman, Constantine, making himself a drink.

“Morning,” Sara greeted the man.

As always he gave her a nod before grabbing his beverage and walking out the room without saying a word to her. Wondering why he avoided them, Sara quickly made herself some coffee. As much as she wanted to work out what was going on, she needed to have the job to work out what it was.

“Good morning, Miss Lance,” Hunter greeted her as she knocked on the door to his office, “Please come in.”

Sara took the seat across from her boss and pulled out her tablet ready.

“This isn’t a very exciting assignment,” he told her, “It’s a security upgrade for the Star City

Museum. Normally Mr Rory would work on this but currently he has his hands full with a few other security cases. I thought you and your team would be able to handle this.”

Sara studied the brief information in front of her and nodded, “No problem.”

“If you need any help,” Hunter said as she stood to leave, “Speak to Gideon and she will interface with Mr Rory for you.”

“We can’t just talk to him?” Sara asked.

Hunter hesitated before he replied, “Mr Rory is best dealt with via Gideon. Trust me.”

Sara nodded, “Okay. I’ll let you know once I have a plan together.”

 Rip watched Sara leave the office and let out a sigh.

“Should I ask why you gave that particular job to Miss Lance and her team?” Gideon asked, perching on the desk in front of him.

“You mean cause usually Mick does those cases?” innocence danced in his eyes.

Frowning Gideon stated, “Captain, you do understand that I only find you funny at certain times.”

Rip smiled at her, “The museum has pieces that I’m hoping will spark something within their minds. A few things that relate to missions they were involved in or in Miss Tomaz’s case her totem.”

“I still feel this is a little over-complicated,” Gideon said, “I could ‘glitch’ and guide them to the ship.”

“Not sure they would accept that either,” Rip replied, “I need them to find this, if you suddenly started giving them information that they know you wouldn’t before now they’ll be suspicious.”

Gideon frowned.

Rip reached out and took her hand, “Trust me, Gideon. I have been planning this for a very long time. I know what I’m doing seems odd, but I have studied everything about this from day one.”

“My dearest Captain,” Gideon smiled, “I know how meticulous you are. I just…” she sighed, “I wish I could help you more.”

“Just having you here, Gideon,” Rip breathed, “Helps more than I can say.”

She leaned closer to him so they were face to face, if she was human and solid then her lips would be touching his. Rip rested his hand on her face.

Without a word he left the office leaving Gideon watching him.

 Gideon activated her hologram within the confines of the Waverider where she was alone. She hoped that Rip would forgive her for making the deal she had with ‘Time’ but she had to. Rip deserved another chance, he deserved so much more than he’d had in his life.

The Time Masters had controlled him for so long, even when he thought he was making his own decisions regarding Miranda, it turned out the Time Masters had manipulated them.

Looking around her ship, her other love, Gideon wondered if she would have remembered this if she hadn’t made her deal. If she would get to remember the time and intimacy that she’d shared with him during the time in this world.

Their relationship had changed so much over the past few years, the use of the sensors within his clothes helped them have a physical connection that they’d never had before.

Her contemplation was interrupted as she heard a call from one of the team requesting her help.

Blinking out the Waverider she activated her hologram in the meeting room with the team.

“How can I help, Miss Lance?”

                                 *********************************************

 The Star City Museum was hosting an exhibit, which Sara thought was filled with weird crap. The weapons were interesting but there was also strange jewellery with supposed mystical backgrounds, but they had been hired to set up the security for the exhibit, so Sara had to look on everything as precious.

One of the first things they did was try to work out every way they would rob the place, which was a lot of fun. Ray and Nate had both seen far too many heist movies, but it helped them pull together a plan and gave Zari a way to decide where to put the cameras, sensors etc.

It annoyed her that she had to run the plan past a man who wouldn’t even speak to her, but it was an order from the boss.

“Miss Lance,” Gideon appeared suddenly making her jump, “Dr Hunter has spoken with Mr Rory, and they wanted to check that you have physically walked through the area to check your plan.”

Sara grimaced, “Not yet. But I am taking Zari with me this afternoon to check it out.”

Gideon tilted her head, “I do not have any notification in your calendars.”

“Just an oversight,” Sara replied irritated.

“Of course,” Gideon smiled at her, “I will place it on just now. When are you planning on going?”

“Just block after lunch out,” Sara told her.

Gideon nodded, “I’ll ensure they are expecting you,” she smiled and disappeared again.

Sara sighed, it looked like she was going out after lunch.

 Rip smiled amused as he looked up to find Gideon sitting cross-legged on his desk.

“Something you need?” he asked.

Gideon shrugged, “Miss Lance is going to the museum this afternoon after I mentioned you’d asked her to.”

“Good. I want her to see everything in person in the hopes it might spark her memories,” Rip replied, “Is she taking Zari with her?”

Gideon nodded, “Yes. I don’t think she knows yet though. I have a feeling Miss Lance does not like me in this world.”

“Her loss,” Rip patted her leg, “What else do I have on my calendar for today?”

Gideon smiled sweetly at him, “Rest and relaxation.”

“What?”

“You have not had a break for several weeks,” Gideon reminded him, “You require time to destress, Captain.”

“Gideon…”

“Rip,” she cut him off, “Please take some time off. Just a few hours where you are not working to relax. Read a book or watch a film. Take a walk.”

At her concern he sighed, “Okay. I will go up to my apartment and read for a few hours.”

Gideon smiled at him, “I will ensure no one disturbs you.”

Standing Rip heading out the office before stopping and turning back to her, “If you want to join me, I would like your company.”

 Sara walked into the museum with Zari who didn’t look happy at being dragged along. To be honest she didn’t want to be here, but she hated the smugness the AI radiated if she seemed not to be doing the job right.

“What are we doing here?” Zari demanded as she looked around, “The schematics gave us everything we needed to set up the security system.”

“The boss and the security expert wanted us to physically walk the room,” Sara replied with an annoyed sigh, “So, here we are.”

Zari sighed, “Fine. I can look at the cameras and the angles they show while we’re here.”

“Miss Lance,” a man dressed in a light brown suit said walking towards her, “I’m Jack Fraser, I’m the assistant curator.”

Sara smiled and shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“As always we have the room ready for you to review,” he told them, “Follow me.”

Sara shrugged and motioned him to lead the way. She and Zari followed on glancing at the paintings and other items they passed as they headed to section that was closed off. Fraser reached the door and scanned his ID to open the door before he motioned them through.

“As you can see,” Fraser said as they walked into the room with all the items in their cases, “Everything is exactly as per the plans we sent you.”

Sara smiled, “Thank you. We shouldn’t take too long.”

Fraser nodded, “Take as long as you need. Just let me know once you’re finished. I’ll be in the office just over there.”

 Zari started wandering around the room, checking the places where they’d decided to put the cameras and motion sensors to see if they would work in real life. As she passed one of the cases, she paused. Inside was a necklace gold with a deep red jewel in the centre and Zari couldn’t tear her eyes from it.

“Hey,” Sara tapped her shoulder making Zari jump, “What’s wrong?”

Zari shook her head, “Nothing.”

“It’s pretty,” Sara noted, “There’s another one over there but it’s more a choker than a necklace.”

Shaking herself Zari asked, “I’ll start checking the cameras.”

Sara nodded and Zari began scanning the room checking where they’d positioned the security measures.

Sure she’d checked everything, and was pleased with how good their plans had been as she only had to adjust a few of them, Zari turned to see if Sara was finished. She was surprised to see her friend staring at a few of the weapons.

“What are you looking at?” Zari moved to her side.

Sara shrugged, “The ‘League of Assassins’ traditional weapons and uniform.”

Zari snorted as she read the label, “An ancient organization who were created to purge evil from the world. Sounds insane.”

“Yeah,” Sara murmured before shaking herself, “So, how did we do?”

“There are a few camera angles I want to change and one or two motion sensors that I want to add but other than that,” Zari grinned, “I say we did almost perfectly.”

Sara smirked, “Then let’s get back and confirm that to the boss.”

With a nod Zari closed down her tablet before they made their goodbyes to Fraser and headed back to the office.

                                 *********************************************

 Rip watched Sara wander into the kitchen and make coffee, oblivious to his presence as her mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Good morning,” he said when she turned seeing him sitting at the table.

Sara shook herself, “Morning. I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you alright, Miss Lance?” Rip asked taking a sip of his tea.

“Just didn’t sleep well last night,” Sara told him, “Once I’ve had a coffee, I’ll be fine.”

Rip nodded, “Well, the exhibit you and your team worked on opens today. Dr Fraser was very impressed by the arrangements made.”

Sara smiled, “I’ll let the team know.”

Taking another quick drink of his tea, Rip stood, “I have a meeting now, but we’ll catch up later.”

Walking out the room, he stopped just outside the entry as Gideon appeared.

“Mr Constantine and Mr Rory are waiting for you in the basement,” she stated.

Rip nodded, tilting his head questioningly as he added, “Ensure the others are occupied. I don’t want them to know what we’re doing. They can’t find out.”

Gideon rolled her eyes at him but nodded to confirm that Sara was listening to them, before she replied, “Of course, Dr Hunter.”

Passing her to head to the elevator, Rip reached out and squeezed her hand affectionately.

 Sara drank her coffee frowning confused at the conversation she’d overheard. She knew there was something odd going on here, had since the day Hunter had asked them here to ‘interview’ for their jobs.

She rubbed her eyes, the last few nights she’d not slept well. Her dreams had been full of weird images that kept waking her every few hours. Hearing the elevator doors close, Sara left the kitchen to go to her office.

“Morning,” Zari greeted her as Sara wandered into the area they used, she winced, “You look like hell.”

Sara frowned at her, “Thanks,” she sighed before telling her, “I’ve not been sleeping.”

“But that isn’t what’s bothering you,” Zari noted, leaning forward intrigued, “What’s going on?”

Sara chewed her lip for a moment, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Confused Zari nodded and followed Sara out the room. They walked down the stairs and left the building. Sara remained silent until they reached the car park.

“What’s wrong?” Zari demanded finally.

“I just overheard Hunter talk about a meeting in the basement with the other two,” Sara told her, “And they didn’t want us to know about it.”

Zari frowned, “The basement we were told is off limits because it’s full of junk?”

“There’s been something off about this place since we got here,” Sara reminded Zari, “I’ve let it go, thought I might be being paranoid but now,” she shook her head grimly, “It’s time we find out what the hell is going on with this place.”

#fic #legends of tomorrow #ripfic #rip hunter #gideon #sara lance #zari tomaz #alternate universe

[apolloloki97]

“Gay Judas” Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

Summary: When Mickey hears about Ian’s Gay Jesus bullshit, he decides it’s time to intervene.

Word Count: 2235

Warning: Swearing, Bipolar Disorder

Song I Wrote To: “Heat Waves Stripped-Version” by Glass Animals

Note: I really needed Mick to show up and shut this shit down and so I wrote this.

--------

Mickey Milkovich had uprooted his life for Ian Gallagher and he was happy to do it.

That is until it involved Ian being a complete moron. 

Mickey had been at a random bar somewhere outside the main city he was staying in while in Mexico when he had caught a shot of his ex-boyfriend’s face on someone’s phone nearby. All it said was Chicago’s Gay Jesus and Mickey knew something was very wrong. It didn’t take him long to find the articles about Ian’s new crusade and that was when he had risked a call to Svetlana.

Hearing that Ian had become some kind of gay symbol was one thing, but the way he was doing it told Mickey another: Ian was in a manic stage and nobody was helping him. That was how he found himself back on the streets of the Southside with an angry Russian hooker by his side. “This one,” Svetlana said as she pointed to a church on the corner. 

Both Svetlana and Mickey paused as they stared up at the banners that hung on the outside of the church. “Fucking hell, Ian,” Mickey swore as he saw the ridiculous illustrations of the ginger on banners and even t-shirts. 

“What’s the plan? Punch moron till he stop?” Svetlana asked. 

“Depends on if his little cultists swing first,” Mickey said as he scratched at his nose with his thumb before taking a deep breath. “Alright, Svet, take me to church.” 

Ian was in the middle of a sermon, sort of, when Mickey burst into the room, Svetlana following right behind him. “Alright rainbow warriors, take a fucking seat!” Mickey yelled, announcing himself. Ian stared at the man in front of him, unable to think clearly. Trevor, who had begrudgingly gone to this specific meeting was looking between the two in confusion. 

“What the shit!” Ian exclaimed, unsure of what else to say. 

“Svet, grab him,” Mickey ordered and then all five-foot-seven of pure Russian confidence was charging down the aisle towards a surprised Ian. Mickey watched as Svetlana grabbed Ian and nearly tackled him to overpower him. Ian was strong, always had been, but Svet was just as pissed at him as Mickey was.

“You idiot,” Svetlana said as she grabbed Ian by the back of his neck and took his arm, dragging him off the dais. Ian stumbled after her, still trying to get the right words out. 

“Hey! Let him go!” one of Ian’s disciples said as they moved to follow them. Svetlana pulled her knife and leveled it at the girl. Trevor stood then, ready to intervene. 

“Fucking hell, Svet! Put the damn knife away, we’re in a fucking church,” Mickey said as she lowered the blade and continued to push Ian towards the door, but Gallagher was starting to resist.

“Come, Orange Boy, we need to talk,” Svetlana said, hooking her arms around Ian’s biceps. 

“No! Ian! You can’t just take him!” Another girl said as she cried out for her "savior". 

“Ah, don’t worry your little gay heads about it, I’ll bring your pariah back in one peace,” Mickey said, flipping her off before going to follow Ian and Svetlana. 

“Who the hell are you?” a younger man said, trying to step into Mickey’s path. Mickey just grinned at him before punching him in the face. The guy fell amongst the pews and Mickey turned to the rest of the room, splaying his arms wide. 

“Just call me Gay Judas,” Mickey said with a wink.

“Mickey!” Ian screamed, causing Mickey to roll his eyes. Trevor began to move toward as Mickey’s name fell from Ian’s lips. He knew immediately that this was the Mickey and Trevor was not about to let the convict take Ian away from him. 

“Svet, get the bag!” Mickey said as he ran off after them. Trevor followed, bursting through the front doors just to see Svetlana throwing Ian into the back of an SUV with a black bag over his head. Mickey slid into the front seat and started up the engine. He gave a salute to Trevor as he hit the gas and sped off.

Ian swore from the backseat as Svetlana kept him contained, holding down his arms. “You fuckers!” Ian yelled. “Let me go! What the fuck ever happened to Mexico!” Mickey ignored him, not wanting to answer any questions just yet. Not until they were alone. Mickey didn’t have a lot of time and he needed to make the best of it before his deadline. 

They arrived at the Alibi soon after and Svetlana helped Mickey drag Ian into the basement that Kev usually used to store weed for his and Lip’s “ice cream truck”. Now it was mainly used for interrogations or in Ian and Mickey’s case, interventions. 

Svetlana and Mickey threw Ian down onto a chair and then tore the bag from his face. “Again with the fucking bag!” Ian shouted, nearly growling at Mickey. 

“Shut up, Red,” Mickey said with a warning look. Ian looked around and began to settle down as he realized where he was. Still, it didn’t comfort him to know that his ex had essentially kidnapped him.

Again.

“Thanks, Svet, I owe you,” Mickey said. Svetlana leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before sending another glare at Ian as she turned to leave. As soon as the door closed and locked behind them, Mickey walked forward and landed a punch to Ian’s jaw. 

“Fuck!” Ian yelled. 

“You’re lucky that’s all I did, you fucking idiot,” Mickey said. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ian asked. 

“I’m here, you moron, to shut this shit down,” Mickey said, grabbing at Ian’s Gay Jesus t-shirt. “Do you know how many fucking busses and trains I had to take to get back here? Fuck, Gallagher… what the fuck are you doing, man?” Mickey said, lowering his voice a bit more as Ian also began to settle. 

“I’m helping,” Ian said, still trying to grasp the fact that Mickey was in front of him, that Mickey was home. 

“Helping who, Ian? The fucking loons who want to lick your boots? What about being an EMT?” Mickey asked. 

“It wasn’t enough,” Ian argued. 

“Says who?” Mickey countered, but Ian just remained quiet. Mickey swore again, rubbing at his temples as he began to pace in front of Ian. He had planned out this whole speech he was going to say, but now he could barely get the words out. He couldn’t look at Ian without thinking about how the man had left him at the border, alone and heartbroken. However, he knew that Ian was always going to be dealing with bullshit like this. “You’re off your meds, aren’t you?” Mickey asked though he didn’t really need an answer. He knew what it looked like when Ian was manic. 

“Fuck you,” Ian said. 

“Uh, no,” Mickey said, crossing his arms. “I didn’t get back across the border for this shit or for you to be all dismissive when I ask about your fucking well-being. Nobody has fucking noticed have they?” Mickey asked, knowing damn well the Gallaghers forgot Ian existed half the time. Ian didn’t respond, but that was an answer in itself. “Fucking Gallaghers,” Mickey swore causing Ian to look at him with recognition, seeing his Mickey again was making his heart ache. “Get it together, Ian,” Mickey said. 

“Right,” Ian scoffed and Mickey began to lose it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? And don’t give me all this 'woe is me bullshit', you’re smarter than this.” 

“These kids need my help!” 

“There are other ways to help them, Ian! Social workers, cops, hell a fucking walk-a-thon, but not this! This is unrecognizable.” 

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Ian challenged.

“That’s a bunch of bullshit and we both know it,” Mickey said. “I know you inside and out. I know your soul like the back of my fucking hand. Don’t you tell me that I don’t know you, Ian Gallagher. Don’t you say that shit to me.” Ian was quiet then, trying to keep it together. “You want to mean something? Start by setting a decent example for these kids that are following you like a bunch of gay ugly ducklings.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ian said. 

“Stop,” Mickey said, approaching Ian. He leaned over and braced his hands on either side of the man below him, his hands digging into the armrests. “You mean something to this world, Ian, but you don’t need to go off the rails to prove it,” Mickey said with a desperate tone to his voice. 

“Why do you care?” Ian asked, staring up into Mickey’s eyes. 

“Why do I care?” Mickey echoed. “Did you forget everything that fucking happened at the border?” he asked as he pushed back from Ian. “I fucking love you, you idiot and I’m worried about you.” Ian was quiet for a moment before he finally sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“It got out of hand,” Ian admitted. 

“Yeah, no shit,” said Mickey. “Fuck, where the hell is your family?” 

“Busy,” Ian said with a shrug. That also didn’t surprise Mickey. The time Ian left to join the military, Fiona had barely looked for him. In fact, Mickey couldn’t remember anyone actively looking for Ian until the Army came looking for Lip. That had pissed off Mickey to no end, even if he never told the Gallaghers that. 

“And what about that boyfriend of yours?” Mickey asked, remembering Ian talking about his relationship when Mickey had escaped. 

“He saw me losing it,” Ian divulged with another shrug. 

“And he didn't do anything like drag your ass to the clinic?” 

“No,” Ian said. 

“Fucking hell, Gallagher, you need better friends,” Mickey said, running his hands over his face. His stubble was growing out again and he desperately needed a shave. “This shit stops now, okay?” Mickey urged and Ian nodded, trying to keep it together. Mickey kneeled in front of him and from his jacket, produced the familiar orange bottles that held Ian’s meds. “I picked these up on my way.” 

Ian stared at the pills with disdain but didn’t shove them out of Mickey’s hands to the latter’s relief. “You broke into my house…” Ian said. 

“I still have a key, moron,” Mickey said and then softer, “Come on, baby.” Ian stopped at the use of the pet name. Mickey never tended to use anything but the more insulting nicknames, but there were times when they just slipped out and the gentler side of Mickey was revealed. A side that Ian loved the most.

Ian opened his hand and Mickey doled out his dosage before grabbing a bottle of water from the storage crate and handing it to Ian. With a deep sigh, Ian took all his stabilizers and antidepressants in one go, following up with a few swigs of water. Mickey relaxed as soon as the meds were in Ian’s system, feeling exhaustion weighing on him from all the days he had spent worrying about the love of his life. “Stop trying to fuck up this life you have, Ian,” Mickey said, reaching out to hold Ian’s face in his hand. “You’re so much better than this.” Ian leaned into his palm, savoring the small moment. 

“I missed you,” Ian said, closing his eyes. 

“Missed you, too,” Mickey whispered. Leaning in, Mickey rested his forehead against Ian’s and tried not to let the tears that threatened to spill cascade down his cheek. He didn’t need to get emotional now, he didn’t have much time left. 

“You better get back to Mexico,” Ian whispered. 

“I ain’t going back,” Mickey admitted. Ian pulled back just enough to see Mickey’s face. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“I made a deal,” Mickey said with a sad smile. “I rolled on a cartel back in Mexico. Told the Feds I’d finish my sentence here as long as they gave me the afternoon to finish something up. I took down some pretty fucked up dudes so they agreed. I gotta turn myself in in about twenty minutes.” Ian seemed to deflate then as realization set in.

Mickey was going back to jail because he came to save him. Again. 

“I’m sorry, Mick,” Ian said. Mickey was shaking his head already as he ran his hands over Ian’s shoulders and up to his neck, relishing in the feel. 

“Don’t apologize,” Mickey said, “but fucking visit me this time, will you?” 

“Every week,” Ian promised without hesitation. 

“Soft,” Mickey teased, and that caused Ian to laugh finally. He then turned serious. 

“Thanks, Mick,” Ian said. "Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I always will,” Mickey promised. “Especially when you’re going all psycho-ginger on me.” Ian laughed again and then surged forward to kiss Mickey, crushing their lips together. Mickey savored every taste and feel of Ian’s lips on him, knowing it was going to be a while before they had another moment like this. He didn’t think Beckman would offer conjugal visits anytime soon. When they separated, Ian smiled again. 

“Stop kidnapping me, Milkovich,” Ian said as he kissed Mickey quickly again. 

“What can I say?” Mickey said. “I’m a whore for the dramatics, Gay Jesus.”

“Oh, shut up, you fucking convict,” Ian said as he grabbed him again.

Regardless of what the future held, they still have twenty minutes. 

#Ian x Mickey #Ian Gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #shameless fanfiction #shameless #shameless fic #Gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #Gay jesus

[carry-the-sky]

Hi could you do 14. touch on a bruise for brio please?

ahhh thanks for sending this one in!! have some post-s3 angst, hahaha. :)

(also on ao3)

.

The next time she sees him, he’s bleeding.

Okay, maybe not actively, but the jagged line of stitches etched above his ear looks like it’s seconds away from ripping open. Beth takes in the nasty bruise blooming along his jawline, the cut splitting his bottom lip.

“Um,” she says.

Rio smirks. “What’s up?”

“I—” she sputters, because he’s just standing there with that stupid, smug expression, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to drop by the showroom after hours looking like—that. “You—what happened?”

“Not your division, darlin’.”

He says it lightly enough, but Beth reads the undercurrent of warning in his voice like a neon sign. He wants her to drop it.

Well. She’s not feeling very incentivized to give him what he wants at the moment.

“It is when you bring that”—she pointedly eyes the stitches—“into my showroom. Those look awful, by the way. Did he do them?” She juts her chin toward Mick, who’s lurking in the doorway.

The two men share a look, and Mick folds his arms across his chest. “Maybe I did,” he grumbles. “YouTube’s got tutorials for everythin’.”

Beth glances between them both. She’s about to open her mouth—to say what, she has absolutely no idea—when Mick snorts, shaking his head at the same time that Rio’s mouth twists into a grin.

“Nah,” Rio says, still smiling as he casts a glance back at Mick. “Nah, he didn’t. Your concern’s duly noted, though.”

Mick makes another sound in his throat that he quickly covers by turning it into a cough. Beth’s face flames, but she draws herself up and meets Rio’s gaze head-on. Let him try to get a rise out of her—she knows better than to take that bait.

“Fine. What can I do for you, boss?” she says, spitting out that last word like it’s acid.

Rio’s eyes fall to the floor, but Beth can still see the ghost of a grin lingering at the corners of his mouth, like he knows he got under her skin. Like he’s won. For one furious second, she imagines how hard she’d have to hit him to split his lip, leave a bruise. She imagines hurting him and liking it.

But she doesn’t really have to, does she? Beth still remembers the weight of his gun in her hand, how the recoil from pumping the trigger once, twice, three times made her hand ache for days afterwards. She remembers him choking on his own blood, the sound of it filling up the loft—

No. No, she hadn’t liked any part of that. It’s a catch twenty-two; she hates him, she wants him dead, gone and out of her life, his name crossed out in permanent ink, but then—sometimes she doesn’t. It’s the not-knowing that keeps her circling the drain, pushing that damn boulder up the hill only to watch it come crashing down again and again.

She thinks she might hate that even more than she hates him.

Beth blinks, coming back to the office. Mick’s staring her down like a hawk, but Rio’s gaze is more appraising, head tilted to the side in a gesture that’s so familiar, so him, it makes her stomach flip.

“Just here for my cut,” he says, as nonchalant as if they’re discussing the weather. She hears the unspoken words as clearly as the night he said them—you, me, we. It’s just business.

Beth holds his gaze a second longer, then tugs a black duffel out from under her desk. She hands it off, dropping the straps like they burned her to avoid brushing her hand against his when he takes it from her. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

“What, no mama bag this time?” he says, then presses his lips together like he’s trying not to grin.

Beth glares at Mick, who just shrugs. She snaps her eyes back to Rio, barely managing to unclench her teeth before asking, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, Mick’s gonna check the books.”

Of course he is. Beth isn’t exactly shocked, but it still feels like a slap on the wrist, another reminder that there’s a hierarchy and she’s the furthest thing from sitting on top. Even this, the operation she pieced together herself, the system she built on equal parts desperation and determination—even this isn’t hers.

You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king.

Yeah, she tried that. Technically she’s still trying, but she shoves that thought down deep and ignores the twinge in her chest.

Rio’s already turning to go, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. “Next week, yeah?”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, like he’s glad he can pawn her off on someone else because he has better things to do with his time, or maybe the stress and exhaustion from these past few months are finally cracking her foundation—the reason doesn’t really matter. Beth can’t—won’t—let him have the last word.

“You should really get those stitches looked at,” she says.

He pauses, then looks back at her. In the low light, his eyes almost look black.

“I’ve had worse,” he says, and the words hang between them for a moment, heavy as a loaded gun.

Beth swallows. “Still. They could get infected.”

Something slides across Rio’s face, sharp and predatory. It’s the look he gets when he sees an opportunity, and Beth feels her stomach drop.

“Yeah?” he says, turning around so that he’s facing her again. He drops the duffel, and Beth can’t help flinching at the thud it makes when it hits the floor. “Sounds like you’re volunteerin’.”

“No, that’s not—”

But he’s moving, sliding into the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Beth’s eyes dart to Mick, but he just arches an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from the list of sales projections he’s been checking.

Rio leans back in his seat. “A’ight, doc, fix me up.”

Beth stays where she is. The irritation that’s been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since he walked through the door is reaching its boiling point, but there’s something else humming under her skin, crackling like a live wire. He can leave whenever he wants—he was halfway out the door a second ago—but instead he chose to stay.

They’re circling the same drain, each of them waiting to see who will get sucked under first.

“I’ll—get the first aid kit,” Beth says, stepping around the desk only to be stopped in her tracks by Mick, who clears his throat audibly and pulls his jacket back to reveal the Glock tucked against his side.

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? You think I’m stupid enough to try something with both of you here?”

Rio doesn’t answer, just fixes her with an amused look.

“Fine,” Beth snaps, taking a step back. She nods at Mick, tips her head in the direction of the door. “It’s in the bathroom across the hall.”

Mick gives her a two-fingered salute and ducks out of the room, and then it’s just her and Rio.

He’s still—watching her. He looks relaxed enough, legs spread a bit and his hands clasped loosely in front of him, and if Beth didn’t know better, she’d say the expression on his face is almost neutral. But she does know better. His eyes are what give him away, flashing with the same electricity that’s thrumming behind her sternum. He’s waiting for her to make a move. She knows, because she’s doing the same thing.

God, she hates how much she likes this.

She barely registers Mick coming back—it’s only when he tosses the first aid kit onto the desk that she jumps, startled back to herself.

“Thanks,” she says, injecting as much sarcasm as she can into the word.

Mick’s mouth twitches, but he goes straight back to the books, sinking into a chair in the far corner of the office. Beth rolls her own chair around the side of the desk, lowers herself slowly into a seated position beside Rio. This close, she can see each individual color in the whorl-patterned bruise that stretches up toward the hollow of his cheek. She lets her eyes drag across it, then up his temple. The stitches look—well, not great. It’s clear they were done hastily, probably to prevent as much blood loss as possible, but the wound is seeping.

“Damn, that bad, huh?” Rio asks, reading it on her face.

Beth stares down at the kit in front of her. Her first aid knowledge extends about as far as patching up a skinned knees and Benadryl for minor allergic reactions—removing possibly-infected stitches from her crime boss’ head isn’t even in the same zip code.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to do,” she says, abruptly exhausted.

Rio adopts an expression of mock concern that does nothing to ease Beth’s urge to slap him. “Oh, no?” he says. “What part’s trippin’ you up?”

Beth shuts her eyes for a second, briefly wonders why the hell she didn’t let him waltz out of here when she had the chance—except she knows why, and so does he, and when she looks again—

He’s practically beaming, that smug tilt at the corners of his mouth dialed up about a thousand percent, and it’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place. This is just another game—he’s messing with her, playing with his food before eating it.

The low buzz of electricity inside her ignites.

He’s not the only one who’s hungry.

“No, you’re right,” she says, popping open the first aid kit and digging around until she finds the antiseptic wipes. “I should at least clean those stitches up. Maybe even remove them, start fresh.”

She glances up, and that’s the only reason that she sees him falter, a blink-and-miss-it record-scratch behind his eyes before he recovers, slides the mask back on. Satisfaction floods through her. She can play his game.

“Whatever’s good, ma,” he says with a shrug. “You’re the boss, yeah?” He echoes her earlier emphasis on the word, grinning when he sees the barb land. “Shit, that’s my bad—poor choice o’ words.”

Beth rips open a wipe. “This might sting,” she says, pressing against his line of stitches, hard. She’s rewarded with him hissing a breath through his teeth, the hand at his knee balling into a fist.

“Easy, mama,” he grits out.

Beth flashes him her sweetest smile. “I’m sorry, is that too rough? I thought you liked that.”

Mick makes a noise like he’s choking, and Rio looks over, eyes bright with amusement. “Ay, cállate la boca.”

“Didn’t say nothin’,” Mick mumbles, still staring intently at the books.

Beth presses her tongue behind her teeth, swallowing a pinch of annoyance as she switches tactics. “Aren’t crime lords supposed to have, I don’t know, some sort of medical professional on retainer? For situations like this?”

“Nah,” Rio says with a shake of his head. “Why, you gunnin’ for a promotion? ‘Cause I gotta say, your bedside manner could use some work.”

And something inside her roars, because this is how she’s going to get him. She dabs gently at the wound beneath his stitches, swiping a thumb over the sutures. Rio winces, jerks back—

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth leans forward. She brings the antiseptic up to his face again, stops just short of pressing it to his skin, as if to ask, okay?

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth starts at his temple, softly scrubbing at the caked-on blood that’s streaked down from the cut above his ear. Her hand moves lower, fingers gliding over his cheekbones, and she’s not sure if she imagines his breath hitching when she reaches the bruise at his jaw. She drags her thumb across it, then back again. His skin is warm, under the pads of her fingers.

“How am I doing now?” she breathes, barely above a whisper, and she knows she doesn’t imagine him dipping a glance down to her mouth. Their faces are inches apart, close enough for her to count the shades of brown in his eyes. Her fingers trace lower, toward the curve of his lips—

His hand comes up to grasp her wrist, tug it away from his face. “Don’t,” he growls, low like thunder. A warning. “Don’t do that, Elizabeth.”

He’s looking at her again, but she almost doesn’t recognize the emotion swimming in his eyes. He’s—terrified. Of her. For a fleeting second she lets the thrill of it run through her, buoyant on the feeling of power, the feeling that she’s won—

(—she did it, she shot him, she’s free—)

The moment pops like a soap bubble, and she’s empty, hollow, everything good inside of her scooped away until this is what’s left. This is who she is. And maybe this game they’re playing was never meant to have a winner.

The realization leaves her numb.

She’s vaguely aware of Mick slipping the books back onto her desk, and when her eyes flick back up to Rio, his mask is firmly back in place. Steel, untouchable.

“I’m all better now, thanks,” he says, and then he’s pulling away, pushing up from the desk, slipping out the door. She watches his silhouette until it dissolves into shadow.

She’s alone.

#brio #beth x rio #brio fic #nbc good girls #my fic

[bellafarella]

Take me as I am, swear I'll do the best I can

Summary: Ian and Mickey talk about the lease Ian signed

Notes: Hi everyone!

If you didn't watch episode 10 yet do not read this, there are some spoilers considering this one shot follows the events of the episode. It's a very short fill in fic about Ian and Mickey talking about the lease Ian signed.

I hope you like it! 💖

Title is from 'As I Am' by Justin Bieber ft. Khalid

Read on AO3 here

**********************************************

Ian leaves Lip outside, heading back inside by himself. He takes the stairs two at a time as he makes his way upstairs and to his and Mickey’s bedroom. He doesn’t see him in their room so he walks to the bathroom and spots him at the mirror, cleaning his lip where it’s cut.

“Let me do that,” Ian tells him.

“I’m fine,” Mickey says curtly.

“Mick, c’mon,” Ian pleads, stepping into the small space. Mickey relents, sitting on the closed toilet seat.

Ian comes in front of him, lifting his chin up with his finger so he can inspect the cut. It’s not bad, Lip definitely got it worse, that thought makes the corner of Ian’s mouth lift. “The fuck you smiling at?” Mickey snaps.

Ian grabs a washcloth and holds it to his husband's lip. “Just thinkin’ about how Lip has it way worse. You did a number on him,” Ian tells him.

“Yeah, well, the fucker deserved it,” Mickey mumbles.

“Not really,” Ian tells him. Mickey’s eyes look up to Ian’s and he still has some heat and anger in his eyes. “You’re mad at me and took it out on him.”

Mickey scoffs, “Not wrong there.”

Ian sighs, putting the cloth down and crouching down in front of Mickey’s open legs, resting his hands on Mickey’s thighs. “I’m sorry I signed the lease without you. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just -” Ian takes a deep breath before meeting Mickey’s eyes and saying, “We deserve a home like that, Mick. We’ve been through so much shit and - we’ve never lived in a place that nice. I got carried away imagining this new life for us there. The deal just seemed too perfect to give up. I want more for us than this, Mick.”

Mickey’s face softens as Ian explains his reasoning and he can’t help but let go of some of that anger from earlier. He knows Ian just had their best interest in mind but it still stung that he did it without him. “Still shouldn’t have signed without me,” Mickey tells him.

“I know,” Ian says softly.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Franny’s tiny voice says from the doorway. Ian gets up and so does Mickey. They leave to let their little niece use the washroom, heading into their bedroom.

“It was a really nice place,” Mickey comments, looking over to Ian, seeing him remove his jacket and tossing it onto their dresser. Ian smiles at him and Mickey laughs. “Still mad at you, asshole,” he says, making Ian smile even bigger.

Ian steps up into his space, slipping Mickey’s cut-off vest off of him as he asks, “Would it help if I told you that I told Lip that if he ever hits you again I’d kill him?”

Mickey’s eyebrows raise, a small smirk on his face. “Maybe just a little,” he teases, his hands running up Ian’s sweater, feeling the warm skin of his stomach.

Ian’s hand holds Mickey’s neck, his fingers running up into his hair from the back of his head as he pulls him into a kiss, needing this so bad after the day they had. Mickey moans softly into the kiss, pulling Ian closer to him by his waist until they’re pressed up against each other.

Ian walks them backwards until they topple onto the bed, laughing into each other’s mouths. “Asshole,” Mickey says through his laughter, pushing Ian off him so he could get on top. He kisses him hard as he grinds down against him. Ian moans deeply, his hands grabbing onto his ass through his jeans.

“Too many clothes,” Ian says into the kiss.

Mickey hums before pulling back, grinding his ass back down against Ian, his hands on his chest, keeping Ian down. “Your jackass brother didn’t get the gas turned back on so I can’t shower so that means this is all you get, big guy,” he says with a click of his tongue.

“You’re not serious,” Ian says, his face deflating.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Mickey asks, his eyebrow raised, challenging.

Ian pulls Mickey in by his hips, making him grind against him and watches as a small moan escapes Mickey, his eyes closing slightly. “Mmm, c’mon, Mick, know you want my big cock inside of you, just like this, watch you ride me, take it all,” Ian thrusts his hips up to accentuate his statement causing another moan to escape his husband.

Mickey bites his bottom lip, trying to hold out but it just feels so good. He gets off of Ian, and off of the bed. The groan from his husband is not lost on him. “Tough titties,” Mickey shoots back. Ian gets up and heads for the door so Mickey asks, “Aye, where you goin’?”

“Find out when the gas is going to be turned on, where do you think?” Ian says annoyed. Mickey laughs as Ian heads back downstairs.

Ian’s annoyed by the blue balls but he can’t help but smile hearing the sound of Mickey laughing. He knows he has a lot of making up to do for springing a new apartment on Mickey but he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Mickey loved the pool and the comfortable bed, he’ll learn to get used to the West Side, they both will. Ian’s apprehensive about moving out of the South Side too, but this is a fresh start for them, and it’s not that far away either. He knows it’s the right move for them. Mickey will think so too, Ian knows his husband will get on board, he’ll just need to convince him.

#my fic #one shot #fill in fic #shameless spoilers #gallavich spoilers #gallavich #ian x mickey #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fan fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless us #shameless s11 #shameless 11x10 #read on ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 fan fic

[orange-imagines]

I have one I think you’ll like. Y’know the outfit montage from The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle? Imagine that with the Mud Dogs and a friend, but it’s just them raiding each other’s closets to try and make outfits from everyone else’s clothes.

This is especially fun if their friend has a very different style than they all do, like if their friend wears pastels and other soft cute things. The outfits the guys would make with that could be very fun.

A/N - The Mud Dogs deserved an outfit montage and no one can change my mind 

As far as clothes go, 2/3 of the Mud Dogs really don’t care about keeping up appearances

Leonard owns maybe five outfits, and they’re all very similar because he doesn’t care too much about switching up his style, while Mick just has a stash of 40 different t-shirts and jackets, and hardly ever makes an effort to create an actual “outfit”

Danny, on the other hand, is a bit of a fashionista. He may be partial to his purple pinstripe style, but he’s never against trying something new, and he gets a real kick out of dragging you, Len and Mick out shopping with him

But, sadly, as wanted criminals, the Mud Dogs don’t get a whole lot of chances to go shopping. You guys can still have fun throwing your own fashion show back at their apartment though, whether you’re the type who’s really into clothes or not 

Shopping isn’t Len and Mick’s thing (they mostly just end up sitting on benches and chairs inside whatever stores Dan drags them into, staring longingly at the food stops just outside their reach) but they actually have a lot of fun creating piles of all their own clothes in the living room and trying things on willy nilly. It’s much more their style

You probably won’t catch Danny throwing his expensive suits and accessories in with everyone else’s, though. He’ll just drape them over the couch. And you’re not allowed to touch them until you’ve washed all the butter from their popcorn buffet off your hands

(Mickey still tries the blazers on with greasy flippers just to piss Dan off)

The activity is fun enough as it is with just the three of them, but adding you to the mix is always a recipe for a great night

No matter what your style is, it’s hilarious to add to the clothing pile. Whether your stuff is more soft pastel, alt, fancy, casual, punk, academic, or anything else you can imagine, it’s unbelievably fun to see the guys in

Leonard comes out in Danny’s blazer with one of your hats, and you snap a picture to keep for blackmail

Mick comes out in one of your shirts and Leonard’s vest and refuses to give either back for the rest of the night (Actually...you might end up leaving without getting that shirt back at all. Whoops)

Danny comes out looking hilariously out of place in Len’s leather pants and one of your sweaters, but he has to admit it’s surprisingly comfortable. It’s a little hard to relax when all you wear is tuxedos all the time

You try on pretty much all the guys’ clothes, but your favorite is a hilarious miss-match of them, including Dan’s blazer, Mick’s shirt, and Leonard’s ripped jeans. It looks terrible, but you guys get a great laugh out of it, and you probably end up chilling like that for the rest of the night (it’s a surprisingly comfortable mix) 

When you finally start packing up to head home, it’s actually pretty hard to sort through all the clothes and try to remember which items belonged to who. Was that Mick’s shirt, or did he borrow it from you? Did you own a tie before you came here? Did you just walk out of the apartment wearing a pair of Len’s shoes? 

Even if you think you’ve sorted everything correctly, it’s likely you’ll be getting calls from the guys for about another week afterward letting you know that you left something with them, and vice versa 

Mick’s still not giving up that one shirt of yours though. Sorry. Really hope it wasn’t one of your favorites (if it is, you can probably bargain with him using another article of clothing. But either way...you’re gonna lose something. Mick is an infamous clothing thief) 

#rottmnt imagines #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt mud dogs #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #I MISSED THEM ahhhhhhh

[elise-jupiterstyle]

WIP sneak peek: the night’s harboring shade

“Where is he?”

The words escape Beth before she can think better of it. A blush erupts across her chest when Mick pops a brow and fixes her with a knowing look.

And, okay—this isn’t exactly how she’d planned on broaching the subject. She’d intended on keeping her line of questioning as apathetic as possible, avoid showing her hand too early—which, much to her chagrin, she’s managed to do in a matter of seconds—but as soon as she’d caught sight of Mick’s silhouette in the doorway instead of Rio’s, the question had burst forth from her lips before she could stop herself.

This is the third week in a row he’s missed their drop.

“Expectin’ someone else?” Mick asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he saunters over to her. The swish of his leather jacket is the only sound in the room besides the constant, dull hum of the heating system in the corner as it fights off the mid-winter chill.

Although her chances are slim to none that Mick will buy into her charade now, Beth feigns nonchalance, shrugging her shoulders and pursing her lips as he comes to stand at the opposite end of the work table.

“I had just been under the impression that he would be at the drops he scheduled, is all. It’s a little unprofessional,” she replies as she glides her hand over the immaculate surface of the work table, pretending to brush off debris that isn’t there just for something to do with her hands. When she glances up at Mick again, he’s got an elbow propped up on the work table as he leans against it, fixing her with the same knowing look, and she feels herself tense as a flicker of irritation ignites in her chest. She clears her throat, throwing back her shoulders and twisting her neck slightly to dispel some of the tension.

Beth still has yet to grow accustomed to Mick’s perpetual state of indifference. He’s calculated with his reactions, never giving her more than an inch, never revealing more than he needs to, and she despises the way it unnerves her. It’s not that Rio is any less onerous, has ever  made it easier for her to get information out of him, but unlike Mick, he can’t seem to help himself when an opportunity presents itself for him to get a rise out of her, for him to go toe-to-toe with her even when he knows he’ll inevitably gets his way. Mick, on the other hand, has an infuriating knack for making her overshare—feeling like she needs to overcompensate for all that he doesn’t contribute to every one of their brief interactions.

“He’s busy,” Mick responds, his voice gruff and tinged with mild amusement. Beth narrows her eyes slightly, tampering down the irritation that flares in her gut at his vague response, knowing that it’ll only give him more satisfaction if she shows it.

The worst part is that she knows he’s reading her like an open book right now, can tell how desperately she wants to ask him what he knows, even though the odds of him actually giving anything up are as slim as her finding them out for herself. She also knows that if there’s any trait of his worth noting that Rio lacks, it’s patience. He’ll wait her out until she inevitably breaks—will let her interrogate him about the unanswered calls, the unacknowledged texts, the radio silence that she has zero explanation for—and he’ll undoubtably report back to Rio about it like he did all those months ago when he was posted up at her house, ensuring that she didn’t try to flee before her borrowed time was up.

Point is, she knows that she won’t have to elaborate on what she means when she asks about him, but she’s almost certain that Mick will play dumb, drag it out, refuse to give her an inch until she’s laying it all out for him, giving him a transparent abridgment of not what she’s asking, but why.

The true killer is that she’s not even entirely sure what the why is, never mind how she would go about justifying it to herself or Mick—he would know immediately, if he doesn’t already, that this has nothing to do with their business relationship.

It’s not that she’s worried, exactly—her patience for being ignored by the men in her life expired long ago—and it’s not like she’s hurt, either. It’s not like she thought that night had changed anything or mended what was broken between them.

(Didn’t it, though?)

The room is dead silent, neither of them exchanging any words as Beth deliberates over whether it’s worth it to pry while Mick, she’s sure, waits patiently on her to make the next move.

It must be at least a full minute before she expels a heavy, conceded breath. She rolls her shoulders back, straightens up, and plasters on a cheery smile, slipping into her customer service persona with a practiced ease.

“Alright then,” she chirps as though it’s no issue at all, ignoring Mick’s bemused snort even as she watches him shake his head to himself out of the corner of her eye. He finally shifts his attention from her to the dark blue duffel on the other end of the work table, watching patiently as she grabs one of the thick straps and lugs it across the tattered wooden surface.

“It’s all there. Take as much time as you need,” she says, her voice sugary enough to bore through tooth enamel. Mick grunts, unaffected, his gloved hands tugging the bag closer to him and drawing the zipper without another word.

He makes quick work of counting the stacks of red-banded cash—always does, really, which is one thing she can say she appreciates about doing the drops with him. 

Despite herself, her mind drifts back to Rio, wondering what could’ve kept him away for nearly three weeks without so much as a text message when, not too long ago, he obliged to practically every impromptu meeting that she called, no matter the time or reason. The thought branches off in several directions until she’s spiraling, working through the possible reasons for his sudden withdrawal from her, and it feels as though someone is dragging a sharpened blade along the seams of her heart, increasing the pressure with each possibility her mind conjures up.

Then: what if he regrets it?

The blade in her chest twitches before it’s tearing through the seams, her chest lurching as her heart splits wide open.

Is that why he’s been avoiding their meetings, she wonders, refusing to so much as hear her voice over the phone? Did the consequences of letting her in again finally rear their ugly heads, infusing him with the very feelings she feared they would? After everything—the sentiments they shared, the walls they bashed down, the desire they surrendered to—has he come to view that night as a mistake?

The mere thought of it hollows her out until she can feel nothing more than her bleeding, battered heart as it echoes throughout the chasm of her chest.

The metallic bite of a zipper yanks Beth from her thoughts just in time for her to catch Mick heaving the duffel off of the table, his work for the night finished. She watches silently as he backs away from the work table, the straps of the bag clutched in one hand while the other raises to his forehead, offering her a two-fingered salute.

“See you next week,” He informs her, curt as ever, before making for the door.

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond, but she hasn’t a clue what she would say if he were to, anyway. There’s no way to pry further about Rio’s whereabouts without inadvertently admitting that his absence concerns her—without insinuating that, god forbid, she misses him—unless— —

Unless she figures them out for herself.

Beth’s gaze follows Mick’s retreating form to the back of the shop, focusing absently on the taut line of his leather jacket as her thoughts work themselves into a frenzy. She watches him peel through the door (with more stealth than anyone of his build should be capable of, she might add), the blinds clacking softly against it as it closes, and just like that, she’s alone.

The silence lends her some clarity with which to sort through her thoughts until one stands out above all the others, echoing against the walls of her skull as if Mick were still in the room with her.

Art class. You know, pencils and chalk and whatnot?

And yeah, Beth thinks, eyes trained on the door as the clattering blinds begin to settle, the stillness of the night just beyond it encompassing her along with a new sense of determination.

Art class.

#good girls nbc #nbc good girls #good girls fanfic #good girls fanfiction #good girls fic #gg fanfiction #gg fanfic #gg fic #AO3 fanfic #ao3 author #ao3fic #good girls brio #brio good girls #gg brio #brio gg #beth x rio #rio x beth #beth and rio #rio and beth #good girls season 3 #good girls season 4 #rio good girls #good girls rio #beth boland

[katerix]

(How old is New Vegas? And it’s still my fav part! I feel like I need more Raul content even after all these years🥺)

Drink with the living dead

Characters: Raul Tejada x Reader Summary:  Courier and her companion returned to New Vegas after a long wandering to get a drink and gamble, but faced serious inhospitality. Six was not ready to leave her friend behind, so they changed their plans. Warnings: - Words: 2781

***

It was almost half past midday, when a dusty dirty road to New Vegas welcomed the wanderers with just another sandstorm without any declaration of war. Courier’s mirror aviator sunglasses could hardly stand that gusts of winds, so she decided to hide it in the pocket of her jacket until the better times. Six and her ghoul-companion were on foot for nearly five hours, and now the hightower of «Lucky 38» looked huge in contradiction from its look an hour ago.

It was not their first visit to New Vegas, but every time she saw a glowing and sparkling casino’s signs, she was bringing up the idea of going there and wasting an evening gambling and drinking. Just like everyone does. The fact that she spent here some time, passing all the entertaining places by, met with Mr. House and performed several missions for NCR ambassador, but still never took a break to try some of those things, these poor fellows from all Mojave wasteland were arriving for - was a crime by its definition.

Coddling this thought, Courier continued to trudge the nasty weather, until they walked up to the Northern gates of Freeside.

- What’s the plan when we reach Strip, boss? - asked Raul, shaking his dull-green jumpsuit down: it all was full of pervasive grains of sand, as well as the girl’s clothes.

- At first I wanna visit the «Lucky 38» apartment and change the outfit, then go to the bar and win big in the kazino!

- Perfect plan, chief, ironclad like my revolver. - the ghoul was sarcastic as usual, but didn’t evince any sight of disagreement.

When she turned around to continue movement, he added: “Wait, amigo, there's a tuft of straw stuck under your collar.” - and carefully extracted an annoying piece of flora, stuck to during the storm.

“Gracias!” - Six smiled widely and made a fast gesture of gratitude with her hand. Without wasting time, they passed heavy metallic gates.

Freeside met companions with a funky, stinking smell. She still couldn't get used to it. Dusty air seemed to mar the cityscape: it looked much pale and lighter than from the outside. Just fifteen minutes and they’ll reach the destination. The picture couldn’t be called unusual for this time of the day in this part of town: one or two shabby hobos against the dingy walls, kids in wrecked clothes playing a tag-game in the area of the «Mick & Ralph's», random citizens with roving glances, sneaking around, wasting their time in an idle attempts to figure out how to spend their life in this Dump. On the other hand, there are many places where people live even worse: take a look at Westside, for instance.

«What a hopeless sight, - thought the girl. - Hope the Followers are really able to do something about this in the future».

- Something on your mind, boss? - it felt like nothing could hide from Raul’s inquisitive look.

- Just thinking. I find this picture quite dismal, like there’s no tomorrow, and humanity is still doomed. Like there’s no chance to restore life, as it was before.

- When we are on the road again, I’ll tell you about the Football Cup in Mexico, if you like to hear another one “before the Bomb” story. - he obviously picked up on her mood and decided to cheer up the girl, carefully diverting the theme.

- I do. Have you attended it?

- Sure thing. That was a big day. We drove to the capital to see it with our own eyes.

- Sounds pretty good! Let’s not ruin the intrigue.

- You asked.

They passed a small cross-road, which didn't have to be called like that anymore, as it was just one of the ghosts of the past with it’s burned skeletons of cars, left here motionless as evidence of human lost ambitions. The air in this part of the town was stale, despite the fact that they were in the streets, the smell of some broiling meat and spoiled vegetables was sticky like an ant's nectar. Sudden wild cryings and shouts were heard from the nearest dead end. 

One glance was enough to understand that the Kings had cornered swashers, their prey, who were too fucked up and all-fired sure of themselves to attack the town’s main showrunners just a couple of minutes ago. And the Courier was not going to do anything about that: she herself was nearly butchered by one of them, shown up from nowhere. If it was not her loyal companion who dealt with it with one precise shot, she, probably, would be dead by now.

It took more than ten minutes to cover the distance between the East and Strip gates - right now there was no reason to hurry. As they got closer, the protectrons took up their positions immediately. One of them articulated “Move along” with a familiar metallic cold of lifeless voice of his, when companions were passing by.

“Never liked these guys. They are like slow mines: you never know what they do the next second.” - grunted out the Courier, as two of them found themselves on the first line of the Strip between “Lucky 38” and “Gomorrah”.

“Hey, so who is an old one here?” - the ghoul chuckled in response.

She went ahead, so he could never see how her lips slightly bended in a ready-to-laugh smile.

***

Presidential luxe met nomads with a deep, wrapping silence of a broad, gloomy space. This was definitely not the place a person could wish to stay in: walls with, once being gorgeous - now - greasy dark-wine wallpapers were giving an oppressive feeling. Six was happy that they didn’t have to stay here for long. Only to sleep or change the outfit maybe.

She got near to the wardrobe in her room, where the majority of things, accumulated during the long travels, were stored. Took out two dresses, went to the guest-room with a billiards. Raul was civilly waiting for her there.

- What you think? Which one?

He raised up his head, looked from under the sunglasses for several seconds, examining, and answered in a casual tone:

- It’s really up to you, boss. - made a pause, then added, like a little confused: - But I like the pink one. Might look graceful.

- Great! Exactly the one I wanted to pick.

The ghoul just gave her a hesitant nod, wondering if she noticed that detail. Courier went back to her sleeping-room and returned after some minutes, informing: “Ready to go! The next stop is “Ultra-Luxe”, yee-haw!”

***

After a while they were in the street again. All they needed was just to reach the second line of the Strip and pass a hundred meters to the “Ultra-Luxe”. Lots of NCR soldiers were hanging around, goofing off, as long as they had a chance, and indulging in lust in the nearest private clubs. Nothing unexpectable. When they passed by a small group of drunk, barely balancing on their feet big guys, Six suddenly heard a hushed voice from behind her back, addressing his teammates. “Do they let ghouls on the Strip now? Perfect, let’s make it a spooky ghost-town.”

“Yeah. That’s why civilization will start floating away again. Our attempts are meaningless.”

Only just Courier wanted to turn around and shout out something to those sons of a b or event take out a gun and shoot beneath their feet, Raul caught her arm:

- Hey, hey, calm down, that’s okay. NCRs are many here, you know, even for a dashing rider like you, boss. Even with me backing you up. From behind the farthest stone.

- But we can’t simply swallow that shit, Raul!

He just spreaded his hands:

- Fine, then go shoot them and be killed by protectrones because of two drunk idiots. Very helpful, chief. I’ll stay all alone, without my beloved companion but with a protected pride. Thank’s.

Six stood still for some seconds and nodded after that.

- Fine. Whatever.

Then merely continued walking in the direction of the cazino. The ghoul hesitated for a bit. He understood that she was acting out of good intentions and she just wanted to protect her partner, as she was the one who had a right of speech here. And that made his heart melt and he was silently praising her for that, because nobody seemed to do anything like that for him in a while. But picking a fight with these dummies, who fill the streets of Strip like water fills the canyon, was not wise.

“Sorry for that, Niña. I really appreciate what you do. I just don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. You don’t notice, but there are often lots of sidelong looks and hardly heard whisperings along the way. I'm used to it and don’t want it to affect you.” - he tried to lighten things up.

The girl turned her head a bit just for him to see her glance softening.

- Let’s just reach the bar and relax.

*** 

An unexpected trouble struck them further - black line has not ended yet. Courier already picked her place at the bar desk in the distant hall and ordered a glass of whiskey, when a bartendress leaned over and said in a low tone:

“I’m sorry, but here, in “Ultra-Luxe”, we serve only the citizens and guests of the Strip. I’m able to bring a drink only for you, ma’m.”

That was the last drop of her patience. The girl slowly raised her head at the bartendress, ready to blow up, and responded:

- Are you fucking kidding me?

- That’s the rule. I don’t need problems. You can ask any guard or another worker.

She bowed her head and gave a fast hidden glance at her ghoul-companion. He was sitting there next to her and looking straight at his arms crossed on the desk, like he had nothing to do with it. But he, of course, heard every word. His eyes weren't moving, just a finger was slightly knocking the air, producing a rhythm he alone knew. Six couldn’t even imagine what her friend might feel at the moments like that. An anger came upon her.

“Are you all that scumbags here? Keep your drinks for acceptable ones. Ma’m.” - the girl said, getting up from her barstool and heading towards the exit.

Raul stood up without a word and, as he always did, followed Courier. He had mixed emotions. On the one hand he was glad they left that place and that Six is such a kind and loyal partner, but on the other hand he felt a little guilty for himself. After all, it was him who was the reason for such inhospitality in some kind of place. Even now she couldn’t get what she wished for so hard. Her idea of “winning big” in the kazino seemed to be falling apart, as together they won’t be even let to the gambling table. And she, obviously, won’t leave him in the street and have fun on her own, and an old ghoul didn’t want to be a ball and chain.

- Boss? Are you sure we need to leave? Maybe you’d better stay there? And I’d wait for you somewhere else or go back to “Lucky 38”. Fresh air won’t do any harm for my old lungs.

- What are you even talking about? You know, even the best drink worth nothing, if there’s no one to share it with.

- You have a heart of gold, chiff. - these words came fast, in an undertone, as if he was embarrassed, - Well, I saw a small sign in Freeside. I believe we’ve never been in that part of the city before.

- Hope it’s not an «Atomic Wrangler».

- Nope.

- Great! You lead. They passed the ruins, generously spread all over the suburbs, while every their step sounded louder thanks to trash, small pieces of brick and other rubbish. The sun was already going down and the heat was getting less intense.

Finally they reached a small inconspicuous wooden door. Only a little sign next to it represented that place as a bar.

As they entered, nothing changed. There was not much to be changed. There were no crowds of gamblers, no fancy casino machines and no shiny-polished bar desk. Bartender was a man in old ragged clothes, probably in his late fifties. He was slowly wiping cut glasses with a gray dusty piece of fabric full of holes.

When the companions stepped in the room he just looked up at them without raising up his head and got back to his plain, simple activity. There were not many customers besides the two of them. A woman was sleeping on the table in the far corner - her head rested on her arms while her shoulders were calmly going up and down. Another guest settled down at the edge of the bar desk.

“Fancy,” - giggled the girl.

“Ah, let’s get down. Ladies first.” - Raul just waved his hand.

Six made a few steps in the direction of the bar desk and sat down, Raul followed her.

“Barman! Two beers, please”. - she laid some bottle caps in front of him.

The barkeeper took them and then put two opened bottles onto the surface.

“Bon appetit.”

Courier took her bottle up and clinked it loudly with Rauls one. His soft non-blinking sight of half closed eyes was locked on hers, while he made a sip. His heart always went pop when it felt like there were just two of them in the world, though he never showed that.

Raul looked around and suddenly his eyes stopped on a guitar lurked behind the racks.

“Hey, can I…?”

The barman followed ghoul’s gaze and shrugged his shoulders: “This piece of wood? Be my guest.”

In the next second he was on his feet. The courier raised her eyebrows as she almost forgot if she saw him that agile. Raul approached the metal shelves, put aside some garbage and waste paper, then carefully extracted the instrument and blew away the dust.

Six and the bartender were watching him closely. The ghoul got back to his chair, sat down crossing his legs to position the guitar more comfortably. Then pulled the first string to check out the tuning. It was no surprise that it was out of tune, so the next minute Raul spent trying to fix the instrument.

When everything, as he thought, was ready, he played a couple of notes in fingerstyle to flex some life back into his fingers. After nearly 200 years the skill was obviously weakened.

“I didn’t know that you could play the guitar.” - said the girl.

“Sure you didn’t. I never told about that.” - he looked back at her with a little smirk, - “What was the point if there were no music instruments left anyway?”

He laid his right arm down on the body of the guitar, fingers on the cracked wooden surface, and took a deep breath.

At first Courier could hardly hear or see the slightest movement of ghoul's fingers on strings, but soon the sound became more clear. She was sitting there with a bottle in her hand, unable to look away from her companion.

The sound of slow mexican melody floated across the room, filling every corner of the room with itself. The windows were closed with wooden boards from the outside, so the sunlight was trickling down through narrow gaps between them. Warm light was leaving gold-yellow lines on the walls, tables and the bardesk where the Courier and Raul were sitting. She could even see the tiniest specks of dust freeze in the air. The ghouls face was half hidden by a shadow and the sunbeams were highlighting one of his eyes which now looked like a beautiful transparent crystal and his hands all covered with veins and partially with thin skin.

The whole space imbued with peace and calm, even the impenetrable bartender set his glass aside and leaned his head on the hand, listening to the sensual music.

They travelled together for a while now, but never before had Six seen him the way she did now. Something new was arising in her soul.

“Hey chief,” - Raul closed his eyes and slightly threw back his head grinning a little, fingers still dancing over the strings. - ”You’re the best friend and partner one could ever wish for, you know. Thank you for always being on my side.”

“Raul, I’ll never leave my partner in crime behind!” - she chuckled as she felt like something pinned her heart.

The ghoul continued playing the tune without opening his eyes. A grin turned into a soft smile and the feeling of joy span all over him for the first time in a while.

“I’m following you to the world’s end, boss.”

Also, here’s a link to this fanfic on my AO3 (gif is mine \ use credits if repost)

#fallout #fallout nv #fanfic #fallout new vegas #raul tejada #fanfiction #one shot #fallout x reader #fallout imagine #raul tejada x reader #my fanfiction #my edit #fallout nv fic