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datadiva35 · 2 years ago

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✂️ UPDATES WEEKLY ✂️

hi pals! i'm writing this au 100 words at a time per the weekly prompts from @galladrabbles , but i wanted to have it all in one place for a smoother read! prompted words are in RED & there's a ✂️ or 💈 to note where each installment ends. i'll be pinning this post & updating as we go! xx

the latest installment is #36: UNIVERSE for the week of december 5, 2022

- - - -

“Hey man, one sec, I’ll be right up,” says the dark-haired, tattooed man holding a broom in the belly of the shop.

Ian runs a hand through his overgrown curls and thinks he’s far too hot to be sweeping up hair clippings.

What? He’s depressed, not dead.

“‘Aight, here for a cut, Red?”

“Is Tami here? She said to come by.”

“Just missed her. Somethin’ about a babysitter.”

“Shit.”

The man grins. “I got time though, if you want…”

Ian inhales, embarrassed to be looking so unkempt in front of this total stranger, but says:

“Sure, why not.”

✂️

The man beckons Ian to a station in the back, spinning a black and chrome chair around for him to take a seat in.

Ian’s joints ache as he sits, stiff from lack of use, but he’s quickly distracted by the sight of thick, leather straps crossing broad shoulders.

An apron never looked so good.

“I’m Mickey,” the man says, pointing to a certificate on the wall.

It reads: Mickey Milkovich, Master Barber.

Their eyes meet in the mirror.

“Ian.”

“What’re we doing here today, Ian?”

Inked fingers card through red locks and Ian’s eyes flutter closed at the contact.

✂️

Tendrils of something sweet, and a little electric, shoot down his arms and into his fingertips, his every nerve ending singing from the haptic sensation.

It feels—Ian feels.

His eyes prickle, welling with memory, relief, and a hint of melancholy, the latter enough to bring him back to himself.

To the gentle tugs of Mickey’s deft digits working through his tangles.

Catch and release. Resolve and repeat.

Mickey clears his throat, softly, and Ian opens his eyes.

A blush creeps up his neck as he watches the pink of Mickey’s tongue pass over the place where his lips meet.

✂️

“Uh, sorry, I—” Ian stutters, certain that Mickey’s regretting his decision to offer his services. He takes a breath, recovers. “Just a shape up, I guess. Tami never does anything fancy.”

Tami.

Fuck.

This was Tami’s coworker he was losing it in front of. Tami, his sister-in-law, the mother of Lip’s son.

“That’s a shame,” Mickey says, not missing a beat. “You’ve got great hair, man.”

If Ian’s flush had dissipated, it was back now with a vengeance.

Sorry Tami.

“Have at it.”

Dark eyebrows lift. “Tami won’t mind?”

“Nah.”

A million things dance across Mickey’s gorgeous face.

✂️

“Gotta at least take some off the sides,” Mickey muses. His hands frame Ian’s face and push rotund curls flat. The pressure is dizzying. “Lookin’ like a fuckin’ tomato, Red.”

Ian winces, his cheeks completing the unfortunate picture.

He likes tomatoes as much as the next guy—more if he’s honest—but despite the levity in Mickey’s voice, he doesn’t think being compared to one is exactly a come-on.

Still, he can’t deny the hunger in how Mickey’s scouring his face. Like he’s memorizing this version of Ian, while envisioning a future one.

“You like it long on top?”

✂️

“Top? Yeah.”

It’s innocent in intent, but Ian’s in his body in a way he hasn’t been in weeks. Everything’s excitable. His voice a bit raw.

Through the looking glass, blue lands on green.

Mickey pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Let’s get you washed up.”

To survive the shampoo, Ian recounts the serial numbers of his ROTC guns.

Back in the chair, he’s desperate for distraction.

He spots a photo on the wall—clearly from someone’s birthday. Mickey’s holding a beer, his face cracked open in a wide smile.

Beautiful.

A charming juxtaposition from his current focused frown.

✂️

Below the picture is a framed page from a magazine. Glossy, with an image of Mickey cutting the hair of a little boy, maybe 7 or 8.

And a headline—Free Cuts for Foster Kids by Homegrown Hero.

Ian’s eyes widen.

“Hate that fuckin’ thing,” Mickey gripes quickly, thumbing at his nose, silver scissors hanging loosely from his fingers. “The stupid article or whatever, not the kids. Sister made me hang it up.”

Ian opens his mouth to speak, but then blades are blurring with tattooed threats, as Mickey cards a comb through wet, red locks and gets to work.

✂️

Ian sits mesmerized—no, hypnotized—by Mickey's swift, precise movements. Skills sharpened with time and practice.

Everything about him is alluring, from the satisfied glint in his eyes as he wields a straight razor with ease, to the way he snarls at a stray hair that has escaped its enclosure—a baby pink clip that reminds Ian of afternoons playing dress up with Franny and Fred.

Suddenly, a flash:

Mickey, bouncing a baby on his knee, grinning in spite of himself.

Ian, handing him a beer before scooping up their kid and raising them into the air, giggles escaping them all.

Their kid.

✂️

Christ, he needs to get a fucking grip.

Still, audacious as it was, it was a future.

It's been a while since Ian's thought about a future.

"'Ey, I'm gonna spin you around, ok?" Mickey says, landing a timid hand on Ian's shoulder.

It’s electric.

Then, Mickey’s crouching in front of him, smelling like smoke and mint and something a little sweet.

He reaches for two pieces of hair, measuring them against each other, but also looking at Ian with such intensity that he can’t help but wonder if this is the moment people talk about—when the stars align.

✂️

“Look down for me,” Mickey instructs, and Ian drops his head down towards the floor.

Towards Mickey’s thighs—thick and straining below ink-black denim.

He hears Mickey chuckle softly, and then there’s a facile finger underneath his chin, lifting until their gaze reconnects.

“Eyes only.”

Mickey’s eyes flick to his mouth and Ian thinks he might die right here in the barber shop.

Cause of death: Overwhelming desire to drop to his knees and peel those jeans clean off.

Mickey drags his finger through red stubble.

“I can clean up this scruff, too. If you want.”

Ian nods, “Please.”

✂️

The corner of Mickey’s mouth lifts, pleased, but smug, like Ian’s making a huge mistake.

For despite his willingness, nothing could have prepared him for the sensory experience that is being shaved by Mickey Milkovich, Master Barber.

Beyond the glint of the razor, captured in blue like a fly in amber, or the warm puffs of breath that land on his lips, nose and cheeks, Ian knows he’ll be able to conjure the spellbinding symphony of metal scraping skin for the rest of his natural born days.

And the gentleness, precision, and care Mickey offers?

Fuck, like shears through silk.

✂️

A warm towel presses against Ian’s freshly shorn jaw, meticulously wiping away what remains of the shaving cream.

Deeming him clean, Mickey tosses the towel aside, wiping his hands on his apron—white streaks across black fabric—and before Ian can wrench his mind from the fucking gutter, Mickey's bending down in front of him again.

Crystalline eyes sear straight through to his soul.

“Better,” he says. “Now that that sorry excuse for a beard is gone.”

Ian laughs, a pithy little thing. “What? I can’t pull one off?”

Mickey’s tongue swipes at his bottom lip. “Not what I said.”

✂️

The last few moments replay in Ian’s rebounding brain, and then he’s twirling back towards the mirror.

“Alright, man. All set.”

And there he is.

His cheeks are a bit sallow, with a touch of irritation from thorough attention after weeks of neglect.

But it’s him.

Ian.

His eyes drift up.

Tight, clean undercut. Red locks textured, but tamed.

Looks good.

Hot.

Tears sting as he takes himself in—the whole picture.

“Left that gray hair in the back. For character,” Mickey says behind him.

Ian stares.

“Kidding, just thought you could use…” His weight shifts. “You like it ok?”

✂️

Ian realizes he was trying to lighten the mood—Ian’s mood.

Like somehow after only a haircut’s length of time together, Mickey can read him like a fucking book.

He’s quiet a beat too long, not fully processing the question asked, and then Mickey’s moving again, grabbing the corner of the cape with a yank, the snaps separating with sharp pops that zing down Ian’s spine.

His t-shirt is somehow less grungy thanks to the crisp cut.

He’s like the winter sun. Not as strong, but still shining.

“Looks fucking great, Mick,” Ian breathes almost compulsively.

Mickey’s lips twitch.

✂️

They make their way to the front of the shop.

Full circle, and yet completely different than before.

Ian feels buzzed. Tipsy. Not too far gone, but on his way to impaired. Which wouldn’t be a problem save for the incredibly attractive barber currently running his credit card.

He pulls a couple of crumpled bills from his wallet and hands them to Mickey.

“S’ok, man. Keep your cash.”

Ian frowns. “Pretty sure it’s standard to tip for a job well done.”

Mickey looks like he wants to say something—flip the script—but ultimately takes the money.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

✂️

“Thank you,” Ian presses, aware of their dwindling time together. “Feels like me. So, thanks.”

Mickey glances down, and Ian wants to climb inside his head and lay in the steady stream of his every thought.

Finally, “Guess Tami can’t be too mad, then.”

Ian winces. “Right. Tami.”

“Just figured—“

“I’ll call. Let her know.”

“Alright.”

The silence is deafening.

“Well. Thanks again, Mickey.”

A flash of terror, but all he says is, “Sure thing, Red.”

Ian tries to not feel too disappointed as he plucks Mickey’s business card from the counter, and with a small wave, leaves the shop.

✂️

END OF SCENE ONE

✂️

God fucking dammit.

Mickey watches Ian walk away from the shop, the click of the closing door leaving him pained and breathless.

That settles it, he guesses—he’s a real pussy.

If he weren’t, he would’ve parlayed things into at least a beer.

Because yeah, Mickey’s hands trembled with every snip of his scissors, and sure, his face flushed as he lathered up red curls and watched the effects of his touch spread lazily across Ian’s freckled face.

But Ian was Tami’s client. And clearly recovering from some shit.

What, Mickey didn’t know, but fuck, he wants to find out.

💈

He stalks back to the computer.

How do you know that a moment’s more important than the rest?

Clicks the CLIENTS tab.

How do you tell that that’s the time you’re supposed to take charge, make a move, fucking run after him?

Types in Ian—Shit, did he really not even get the guy’s last name?

How come there ain’t some kinda dumbass prophecy to help him out that says: On this day, at this time, some smoking redhead’s gonna come into the shop. He’s not there to see you, but he is there for you. Don’t fuck it up.

💈

Mickey hits ENTER.

The progress bar flashes for an eternity, a far cry from the promise of Salon Software at Lightning Speed!

When it loads, Mickey’s jaw drops.

Zero results.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

He hits refresh. Still nothing.

“What kinda piece of shit system is this?” He barks, adding “Tami” under STYLIST.

No Ians.

He punches the desk.

Knuckles swelling, Mickey sweeps up red locks. Tiny reminders that there is, in fact, an Ian out there in the world. Just has to swallow his pride and ask.

God, that blonde bitch is gonna be so annoying about this.

💈

She’s also not on the schedule again for two fucking days.

So Mickey waits. Closes things down and heads out. Has a beer with Mandy and her new boyfriend. Dreams of dizzying green eyes. Works some more. Jumps every time someone opens the damn door.

When Tami finally drags her ass in, he’s waiting at her station.

“Kid’s an artist,” he quips, motioning to a displayed drawing of a rainbow, a shitty pot of gold and some wonky four-leaf clovers.

She rolls her eyes, smiling. “What do you want, Mickey?”

“Met one’a your clients,” he shrugs. Hopes it’s casual.

💈

“I heard!” She exclaims, throwing down her bag. “Don’t worry about it, you can have him.”

“What?” Mickey splutters.

“You’ve already made more money off of him than I ever have,” she barrels on, leaving his head spinning. “Plus, it’s terrifying—the fear of fucking up a gay man’s hair.”

Oh.

Bingo.

The revelation swoops through his system. Heat and relief. The dissolution of tension around that particular unknown.

Pleasure, too. Hard-won thrill.

For Mickey’s been able to wrestle years of violence, inflicted inside and out, into a somewhat solid stance on self as shelter, and ain’t that something?

💈

Once the fucking lust clears, he hears her in full.

“Wait, he don’t pay you?” he asks, flushing red with wrath.

He takes this shit seriously, their business. Maybe it’s a pride thing, but they work hard for their bread. To build a craft and a client list one could envy.

“I know!” Tami complains. “Greedy ass Gallaghers, just take take take. Gluttonous. They’ll knock you up—”

Mickey knows that Tami’s throwing him clues, but his comprehension’s moving at a sloth-like pace, derailed by the latest drop in the bucket:

Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher.

Has a nice ring to it.

💈

“—like staying poor with your fucked up family is some sort of Southside tradition!”

Tami takes a breath, her eyes wild, and Mickey realizes he’s got no idea what she’s saying anymore.

Honestly, they’re both a bit confused as to how they got here.

“You good?”

She runs her hands through her long, blonde hair. “Fucking peachy.”

Someone turns on a blow-dryer and Mickey remembers himself.

“Sorry, what’s this got to do with Ian?”

“Huh?”

“Gallagher? Your gay client I swiped?”

A devious grin grows across her face and she swats his shoulder, “Oh my god, you like him!”

💈

“Fuck off. I gave the guy a hair cut!”

“That all you give him?” Tami smirks.

“Jesus Christ, lady, I’m a fucking professional!” Mickey balks, running a hand over his face, more to hide his blush than anything else.

“Speaking of, I got a client in ten and a bladder ruined by child-rearing, so what do you want? His number? His address? The time he gets off work?”

Well, shit.

In all of his practice runs, Mickey had prepared for Tami to take him for a ride. Never expected her to hand the guy over on a fucking platter.

💈

Maybe that’s why he rears back and, eyebrows dancing, asks, “How ‘bout if he gives it good and hard?”

“Ugh,” Tami gags, “That’s TMI, even for me.”

Mickey shrugs, gets a little lost imagining freckled hips giving way to a long, thick cock.

“Lip’s gonna have a field day with this one,” she says, scribbling something on the back of a receipt pulled from her purse.

Mickey shudders at the thought—something about Tami’s baby daddy always grinds his gears.

“The fuck’s that asshole care?”

“Oh, you really don’t know?” she asks. Off Mickey’s blank stare, adds, “Ian’s his brother.”

💈

His stomach drops like a judge just threw the fucking book at him.

“You gotta be shitting me!”

Maybe it’s not too late to bail. Forget the whole thing. There are plenty of fish in the sea.

But then he remembers his finger lifting Ian’s chin; the wide open look in his eyes and his breathy little please, and Mickey knows there’s no turning back now.

No other fish worth catching.

Tami just laughs. Flips her hair like the snotty, but helpful bitch she is, and presses the slip of paper to Mickey’s chest.

“See ya at the family function!”

💈

Worse than the idea of sitting across from Lip at dinner is the reality that Mickey’s got four back-to-back clients, so calling Ian will have to wait.

It’s cool, he’s cool. Stolen time to figure out what he wants to say.

Hours later, his aching fingers carefully type each precious digit into his phone.

The door opens and Mickey curses under his breath.

Yells, “Take a seat! Be right there,” without looking up.

He takes a deep breath.

Presses send.

Scratches his brow.

A phone rings in the waiting area.

No fucking way.

He looks up.

“Hey Mickey.”

💈

“You calling me right now?” Ian asks, grinning and gorgeous.

Mickey’s too gobsmacked to speak.

“Should I pick up?”

Get it together, Milkovich.

“Yeah, just take a walk around the fucking block, why don’t ya?”

Ian taps at the screen and the line clicks open—in case there was still any doubt as to who was on the other end.

“Wait, I—”

“Not going anywhere,” Ian promises. “Just, uh, saving your number.”

Shit, who the fuck was this smooth cat? Mickey could absolutely get used to this.

But he also liked him before, all flushed and flustered in Mickey’s chair.

💈

“Hair looks good,” Mickey says, attempting to act like a normal fucking person.

Ian pockets his phone, tugging his t-shirt down over the top of his jeans—vintage, some rock band Mickey also likes—and runs his hand through it.

Mickey’s fingers twitch with the sense memory of submerging shampoo suds in those same silky strands.

“Thanks,” Ian smiles. “Got it cut by this guy—he’s kind of a big deal around here. Maybe you’ve seen his write up in the paper?”

Mickey bites his lip. “Sounds like a douchebag. Bet he’s even got it hangin’ on the wall.”

💈

Ian shrugs. Says, “I liked him.”

It’s simple and a little shy and Mickey thinks his heart might just shatter into a million fucking pieces.

Then, as if sensing a moment that needs ruining, Mickey’s stomach growls. Loudly, like a goddamn traitor.

“You hungry?”

“You buying?”

“I could be. I gotta know something first though.”

“What’s that?”

“How’d you get my number?”

Well, fuck. Mickey can’t lie—Ian’s not even in the system—and this is clearly a second chance, hand-delivered on a platter. What choice does he have?

He takes a deep breath.

“I asked Tami for it.”

💈

Ian looks at Mickey like he’s some handsome ass prince from a kid’s book, and not a creep with a crush who nosed around in his business with the help of his sister-in-law.

“Brave,” he says.

Mickey smirks. “What’s brave is going to the same hair spot a couple days after your last cut… You got complaints, Red?”

“Not exactly,” Ian admits, his eyes flicking towards the floor.

“Whatchya doing here then?”

Their eyes meet, but this time there’s no mirror. No barrier, no buffer.

The air between them fizzes, like a freshly cracked soda pop.

“Came to see you.”

💈

Mickey thrums with something akin to satisfaction. Excitement. Butterflies in his stomach, a hopeful burning in his chest, and for once, none of his usual skepticism—that feeling of, something this good couldn’t possibly be happening to a chump like me.

It’s different. Settled, like it’s been decided already.

He’s been waiting at the starting block his entire fucking life, and now finally here it is: the sound of the pistol.

“You wanna go out with me, Gallagher?”

Ian’s face splits open, smiling, yet serene. Says, “Lead the way, Milkovich.”

This time, when Ian leaves the shop, he’s not alone.

💈

END OF SCENE TWO

💈

As he walks alongside a silent Mickey Milkovich, Master Barber, Ian rolls his shoulders back, pulling damp fabric away from his sweat-soaked back.

Is it 100 fucking degrees out here?

Fuck, he’d been so slick before—nothing like he’d been during that first haircut, thank god—but apparently that persona, like everything else in his life, is unsustainable. Destined to continue cycling until he’s old and decrepit.

He looks over at Mickey, who’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and he wants to reach over and pull it out. Replace it with his thumb, his lips, his tongue.

🖤

He has no idea about the similar war that’s raging inside of Mickey right now, or the endless barrage of should haves currently sloshing around his skull.

When they left the shop: Shit, do I hold the door for him? I should have held the fucking door for him.

While they make their way to the taco truck that Mickey suggested, before finding a place to sit in the park across the way: Fuck, was all that talk about paying just banter? I should have made sure before we left.

Mickey sneaks a glance at Ian, who’s already looking back.

🖤

They both give a shy smile; a nervous laugh. Eyes snapping back towards the never-ending sidewalk they’re walking. When it inevitably happens again, Ian gets caught.

“I’m a little nervous,” he admits, the moment before he collides with a nearby trash can, hip-checking it as he passes. “Ow!”

“Oh shit, man, you ok?”

“Yeah—hah, fuck—It didn’t really—“

“Got ya real good there.”

Mickey’s stopped in front of him, his brows furrowed, hands reaching towards Ian’s waist, and Ian lowers his hand, defensively.

Their fingers brush against one another.

Sparks fucking fly.

“I’m nervous, too,” Mickey mumbles.

🖤

Ian finds the sentiment shocking. From the moment he walked into the shop, Mickey has been nothing but put-together. Professional, precise, and placid.

A little hard to read too, but Ian thinks the fact that he didn’t laugh in his face at the idea of a date is a good sign.

But nervous? There isn't a single universe in which Ian Gallagher thinks Mickey Milkovich might be nervous.

The implications churn in his gut like ocean waves under the fierce force of heavy storm winds. Turbulent and blue-gray—a perfect match for the eyes currently dodging his gaze.

#i love this so much #barber mickey #❤️ galladrabbles fics!#so fun ☺️#cute story #gallavich #galladrabbles #fanfic

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datadiva35 · 2 years ago

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Weekly Updates 🔆

[except when it's my prompt week]

Made possible by @galladrabbles (if you haven't given it a try, you should! The more the merrier!)

I have joined the little train of fics written in one little 100 word drabble at a time. This is inspired by this post. (Heads up, I suppose the post will have spoilers lol)

Each week's word will be orange and each drabble will be separated by a 🔆

23rd week added (Dec. 9): Universe

•••

Mickey is fucking excited.

Some might even call him giddy but to hell with those people because he ain't that fucking gay, alright?

But he is excited. Fucking elated.

Because he's just entered the airport with Ian, his husband, and they're finally going on an actual vacation.

Hawaii.

Two whole weeks of nothing but sun, sand, hotel sex, fruity drinks you'd be ridiculed for drinking on the South Side.

It's going to be amazing and they fucking deserve it.

Vacation starts now, as they board the plane, a knowing smile is all it takes.

Mile high club, here they come.

🔆

Ian's tipsy already and he's grinning like an idiot.

But fuck it.

They're on vacation, Ian's hitting that perfect spot that makes Mickey go crazy, and the lady knocking on the bathroom door is just making their departure to the mile high club even more memorable.

"Mick- I'm-"

"Yeah- fuck... I'm close."

Ian sucks on Mickey's neck and that's all it takes before he's coming, his body shuddering as Ian bites down, following his husband into pure bliss.

Another knock on the door.

Ian's still holding Mickey up against the wall and they both laugh breathlessly.

The bitch can wait.

🔆

The absolute look of terror on the bitch's face makes Mickey chuckle as he smirks at her, slipping into his Hawaiian shirt before saying, "All yours."

He follows Ian back to their seats not even trying to cover up the smile that radiates from his face.

"Goddamn, Gallagher. We should go on vacation more often."

Ian gives Mickey's hand a loving squeeze, leaning over and kissing him on the shoulder.

"Think grandma will tell on us?"

"Who cares... What are they gonna do? Pull the plane over?"

Ian lays his head on his husband's shoulder. "Wake me if they do."

🔆

Ian sleeps almost the entire flight. There's a small puddle of drool drying on Mickey's shoulder, and even though some might think it's gross, Mickey loves it. Tiny snapshots of "normal" that always manage to leave him breathless.

Ian yawns, wiping the sleep from his eyes, stretching as much as their tiny seats allows. "Did you sleep?"

Mickey shakes his head. "Fuck no. Someone has to put the oxygen mask on your dumbass if shit goes sideways. I ain't spending my vacation planning your fucking funeral, man."

"I love you too, Mick." He kisses him softly. "You're a fucking romantic."

🔆

Mickey knew this would happen.

He'd be fucking insane to think that he would ever be entitled to a stress-free, everything goes right, vacation.

So, when Mickey can't find his suitcase, he's not even shocked. Hell, there's probably some prophecy written in blood, foretold by some white supremacist, homophobic asshole, that says Milkoviches can't have nice things.

But, leave it to Ian to find it twenty minutes later after leading an embarrassing search party for a suitcase that only holds lube and about six pairs of swimming trunks.

And in the lobby of the Hawaii International Airport, Mickey fucking swoons.

🔆

Mickey's not sure what it is about Hawaii, but in the cab on the way to their hotel, he can't keep his hands off his husband.

They're on vacation. What better time to just enjoy the tall drink of water that is Ian?

When their lips touch, it's like a shot of lightning coursing between them. Ian smiles into the kiss before moving lower and softly nuzzling against Mickey's neck.

The fun ends abruptly when they pull up to a cheap ass Holiday Inn. Mickey is beyond confused.

"This isn't-"

"Uh, yeah... I switched hotels. This one had great reviews."

🔆

Mickey looks up at the ugly tan building. "Like what? Got a fucking STD but didn't die?"

Ian laughs and shrugs. "We're in Hawaii, does the hotel really matter?"

Instead of answering, Mickey grabs his bag and stomps inside the lobby where a girl greets him with a smile.

"Aloha! Here to check in?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Her smile fades and she looks confused as Ian jogs up to them. "Checking in under Gallagher."

"Which one?"

Mickey raises an eyebrow at her.

"Ian."

She grins and clicks something on her computer."Got it! I'm Clover. I'll show you to your room."

🔆

Mickey hopes this is a joke. He knows, for a fucking fact, that they had decided on the bougie hotel with the oceanfront view.

Not. This.

But, as they enter the room, he's worried because there hadn't been any signs of oncoming mania that he could recall.

"Somethin' wrong with the other place?"

Ian just shrugs. "The trip was just a bit more expensive than we initially thought."

And that's a lie. He knows it.

But, there's no evidence behind Ian's eyes of a war that sometimes rages within.

So, Mickey relents. "They got any alcohol up in this bitch?"

🔆

It's only been two days in this shit hole and "understanding" Mickey has disappeared. Because fuck that and fuck this damp room with the mildew smell and the tiny bottles of Malibu Rum that couldn't even get a toddler drunk.

He tried to be a supportive husband. He tried to let it go.

But he can feel the anger simmering. That Milkovich wrath that's fucking etched into his soul. Something he just can't shake. It's why he'll be a shitty dad and it's why he can't hold it back when he finally asks,

"Who the fuck is the other Gallagher?"

🔆

Ian's eyes meet Mickey's. "What?"

"Why did she ask you that, Ian? I swear to God if one of your siblings pop out-"

Ian cuts him off, wrapping his arms around Mickey's waist. "I reserved the room under both of our names. That's it."

Mickey places his hands on the sides of Ian's face. "Baby, I really want this trip to be just about us, okay? No phones, no business talk, no Gallagher family tradition of inserting themselves into our lives."

"This trip is only about us."

"You swear?"

Ian nods, "I swear," and they seal it with a kiss.

🔆

Mickey's barely awake when Ian throws open the curtains, drowning their room in sunlight.

"Wake up, Sleepy Head! I got an entire day planned! Pineapple picking, a helicopter ride, a luau where they roast an actual pig in the ground-"

Mickey sits up, rubbing his eyes. "What fucking time is it?"

"Nine."

"In the morning?"

Ian just nods. "I know, we're already running late." He tosses a Hawaiian shirt at Mickey. "Get dressed."

But Mickey isn't going anywhere. He slides back down into the comfy bed. "Yeah, no. It's too early. You want a ride? Get back in bed, Red."

🔆

After giving him a "Mickey ride", which has no relation to that fucking corporate mouse and way better than some stupid helicopter ride, Ian's cellphone rings.

"We said, no phones."

Ian grabs it blindly off the nightstand, bolting up immediately. "Shit- I gotta take this... It's... Tami."

"Tami? The fuck she want?" Ian looks worried which makes Mickey worry. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just..." He takes a deep breath. "Lip wants her to eat his ass so I've been giving her tips."

Mickey is mortified. "T. M. Fucking I, Ian! I could have gone my entire life not knowing that!"

🔆

Ian steps out onto the patio, talking to Tami in hushed tones that Mickey is grateful for. Lip's sex life is not something that anyone needs to know about.

He takes a shower and gets dressed. Secretly excited to spend the day doing stupid tourist shit with Ian. Just because they can.

The patio door is cracked and Ian's voice drifts into the room. "Look, we got distracted... oh, fuck you, Lip. We've got time-"

Mickey moves closer and listens.

"We'll be gone in like thirty minutes. Did you book the... yeah but they need to be... okay, fine... bye."

🔆

Mickey spends his day being a dorky tourist with his equally dorky husband.

He does not bring up the conversation he overheard this morning, even though he wants to. It's right there, itching to crawl out of his fucking skin and make Ian and this entire fucking island his bitch.

But, one thing he's learned, after escaping prison, is that you can't always go in guns blazing. Sometimes, getting to the resolution takes a different approach, a more covert operation, if you will.

He will not allow this vacation to be hijacked. His fun... fucking stolen... by LIP?

Hell no.

🔆

It's late when they get back to their room, exhausted from a long day of sightseeing. But Mickey's got shit to do.

Grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the dresser, he checks the time and gestures towards the door.

"Gonna go get some fresh air."

Ian snuggles into the bed, mumbling a soft, "kay," before sleep takes over.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Mickey heads outside, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind, who he'll find smoking at this particular time.

Rounding the corner, he doesn't even act surprised. "So," he thumbs at his nose," whatcha doin' here, Lip?"

🔆

"So, figured it out?"

"Ian's a shit liar. Always has been."

Lip nods at that. "It's his eyes. Always give him away."

"Why are you here... Phillip?"

He smirks, pocketing his e-cig. "Thought you had it figured out... Mikhailo."

"Well, I figure if I hit you hard enough Ian'll feel it... considering you two are practically attached at the fucking hip."

But Lip's more occupied with his phone than Mickey's mostly empty threat. "Mm, cool story, bro... hey, uh, you still like that Bon Jovi guy, right?"

"Obviously... wait... what? Why?"

Lip just grins as he walks away. "G'night, Mickey."

•••

Ch. 2 (Ian's POV) 🏖

🔆

Ian wakes up... disappointed.

Instead of soft touches and eager lips, he gets harsh knocks and an irritated, "Ian, wake the fuck up!"

Glancing around the room, he immediately notices that Mickey isn't there.

And he laughs, because obviously his husband forgot the room key while getting coffee.

But, Ian's grin fades away when he sees Lip standing outside his door.

"What-?"

"Ian. He knows and he's fucking pissed."

"Shit- where is he?"

Lip sighs, looking guilty as he hands over a napkin that reads:

Think of a real good excuse before you leave that room, Firecrotch.

Mickey & Tami

🔆

Ian stares at the note, trying to make sense of where things went sideways. He had everything planned, everything was going so well-

"So, uh... any ideas?"

And, no, Lip. He doesn't have any fucking ideas, alright? But there is one thing...

"Wait- He's not mad at Tami?"

The look on his older brother's face is all he needs to know.

"Jesus, Lip! You didn't tell her?"

And his brother has the audacity to look annoyed. " Course I fuckin' told her! I mean..." He pauses before continuing, "she was busy reading Freddie a bedtime story at the time, but-"

🔆

Ian groans. "Goddamn it! Everything is fucking ruined now."

"Okay, that's a bit dramatic."

But Ian isn't listening, he's too busy spiraling. "I should have just told him. I shouldn't have tried to surprise him... he fucking hates that shit anyway." He stops to look at Lip. "What should I do?"

"You're asking me?" Lip's eyes meet his brother's and, truth be told, he's got nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Love and marriage? Fixing arguments? How can he have the solution if he's never even experienced the problem?

Cause Lip walks his road alone as Ian and Mickey walk theirs together.

🔆

"Mickey only knows that we're here and he thinks that you paid for that to happen."

Ian feels relief wash over him. "Wait. That's it?"

Lip nods. "That's it. So stop panicking. Things are still going according to plan."

"Okay. I can definitely work with that." Ian throws a shirt on along with a wrinkled pair of shorts before exiting his room, shoving Lip down the hall to lead the way. "They by the pool?"

"Yep."

One hundred different scenarios run through Ian's head as they make their way outside. He'd made it this far, what was one more week?

🔆

Ian spots Mickey immediately and he looks... happy. The way he should be, not mad because of a tiny white lie. Ian lives for moments like this. When Mickey isn't aware he's being watched. A smile on his face, a laugh thrown up in the air as he teaches Freddie to blow bubbles in his milk.

But then, their eyes meet, and there it is. That scowl. The narrowing of eyes, the crossing of arms. All familiar signs that an argument is imminent.

So, holding out hope that having Freddie around will soften the blow, Ian takes a step forward.

🔆

But, as he approaches them, Tami stands, picking Freddie up before bending down to whisper something in Mickey's ear. He nods and suddenly, it's just them.

Ian and Mickey.

Mickey and Ian.

If sound effects happened in real life, Ian knows he'd hear that western whistle, indicating a stand-off. A fool-proof way to know that two Southside husbands are about to collide and people should scatter, leave them alone to take their shots, even if they're just words.

Because they can be painful. Because they can fucking cut deep.

"Mornin' Sunshine." Mickey gestures at the chair across from him. "Sit."

🔆

"Okay, on a scale from one to ten... how mad are you, really?" Ian waits for an answer, needs to know how much he has to apologize for.

Mickey bounces his leg, anger radiating off him. "I don't think, at least in our universe, that there is a number high enough for your fucking scale, Ian."

"That's fair-"

Mickey scoffs. "That's fair? You serious right now, Gallagher?"

"Mick-"

"Fuck. You. Tell me the truth, right fucking now or I swear to god, Ian, I'm getting on a plane tonight and going back to Chicago." He crosses his arms. "Without you."

#had to catch up #so fun following along #galladrabbles #fanfic #gallavich

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datadiva35 · 2 years ago

Text

Let’s talk fic: Masterpost

Current WIPS (all updated weekly unless noted otherwise)

Run, Rabbit, Run - Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the farmer’s gun Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run

(aka the Monster-Fucking fic.)

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot PODFIC - Podfic of @dodgerbear84’s classic NYE reunion fic. Ian is living his dream in the army, living in New York and training cadets at West Point. Only the big city has never really felt like home and he has a Mickey Milkovich shaped hole in his life. A chance encounter could change everything.

Game Face On - Kinktober story, Mickey is a drudgery worker, plagued by dreams of his new coworker. Things go awry on the most important day of the year. Hijinks ensue?

Interview With The Vampire Fics and Related Works

The Devil Doesn’t Bargain -

The devil doesn’t bargain It’s useless, don’t do this It’s hubris to try He’s ruthless, you knew this I told you, didn’t I? He’s abusive, elusive The truth is, he lies I know you don’t want to let go

Everything for Free -

“I don’t know who you are But you seem very nice So will you talk to me Shall I tell you a story Shall I tell you a dream?” K’s Choice - Everything For Free Louis awakes to find himself in captivity. This is the story of where he is, and who he meets.

Shine - Louis is a service top, Lestat his bratty sub. Just a peek inside Louis’ mind and motivations in this scenario.

Doll - “I love you like this, my darling Louis. My beautiful, empty headed, little fool. The only vampire in history who longed to be a human. But no more.” Here, he would chuckle. “Now you know what you were made for, what you are meant to do for eternity.”

Works on Hiatus or Delay

Immortals Anonymous - What substances control the minds and souls of those whose lives can never end? Creep in and listen as the creatures that go bump in the night spill their stories…. ON AMAZON VELLA

Do the Stars Gaze Back? - Stardust AU. Fine if you’re not familiar with the source content. A fairy tale with a happy ending. And some twists along the way. (On Hiatus.)

Not Just Penpals - What if Ian didn’t completely leave Mickey all alone in prison? (with @fyeahgallavich) (Updates as we write.)

Gallavich Week 2021 Fics

Post Series Finale - Doing Dishes

Fantasy AU - The Taste of Mickey

Travel/Vacation - The Keys to Happiness

Historical AU - A New York Love Story (deals with 9/11)

Fix It / Rewrite - The Great Untitled Rimming Story (with @ms-moonlight-inn)

Meet-Ugly - Riding Lessons

Gallavich Week 2022 - Art Entries

Day 1: Trials and Tribulations Day 2: True Love Day 3: Painting Based (Nighthawks) Day 4: Gallavich Week 2022 - Art Entries! (17 words) by NotHereNJ Day 5:

Film Based (Love, Actually)

Day 6: Based on Gallavich Fanwork When I’m Lost at Sea

Day 7: Free Day (Bad Memories)

Completed One Shots

White Xmas - Mickey shivered. Even with the heat in the apartment, cranked up, he was still naked, save for the yard after yard of white silk rope that adorned his body like a lanyard. Like a garland. Like Mickey was a whole goddamn Christmas tree.

Warmth - It’s a lazy winter Sunday.

Guts - Mickey is a whole-ass adult, with a small, lonely life, aside from his rather unique pet. This is the story of how that all changes.

Caesura - cae·su·ra /sēˈzyo͝orə,siˈZHo͞orə/ noun (in Greek and Latin verse) a break between words within a metrical foot. (in modern verse) a pause near the middle of a line.

Lou Reed Was Full Of Shit - A heavy angst picnic. Mind the tags!

Eggs, Corn, and Tofu - Mickey goes on a diet, results are mixed.

Suck it Harder - So I saw this photo set online… and here we are. (More angst)

As it Was - Ian had cheated. The words ran around and around in Mickey’s mind, chasing each other until none of it made sense. (Story based around Harry Styles’ As It Was)

Monsters in the Basement - The prompt on twitter was “What’s in the Milkovich Basement?” in 500-1000 words. And of course, I went wild on word count and made it part of my Fae Mickey universe - Part 3 of Bad Magic and Sharp Wings

Dance Monkey - They say, “Oh my God, I see the way you shine Take your hands, my dear, and place them both in mine” You know you stopped me dead while I was passing by And now I beg to see you dance just one more time.

The Sex Life of Frank Gallagher - 3 Times Frank Smashed + 1 Time He Was the One Destroyed My cursed prompt was The Sexploits of Frank Gallagher. 😯 I tried?

The Unbearable Tension of Dust Jackets - Nerdy College AU gift fic

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship - Another song ficlet, about friendship and pining.

17 Going Under - Ian confronts Lip after he spouts off about Tami’s grooming by her teacher. (Song ficlet.)

ABCDEFU - Byron doesn’t know the meaning of the word “over.” But Mickey sure as hell does. (Song ficlet.)

You’ll Never Know, Dear - Ian felt clean. Not his body, of course. That was caked in mud: he knew he’d be scrubbing it from his pores tonight in the shower.

Come Over (Again) - This is the first in a series of ficlets inspired by songs. I’ll try put them all in a collection, but this one is first. If you haven’t listened to Come Over (Again) by The Crawlers, you should start there. Also, I am not trans. I deliberately skimmed over anything that I didn’t have first hand experience with, because I am not an expert on trans identity or stories. If you catch an error in this area, please do comment and let me know. (Song ficlet.)

My World Has Teeth - Ian, an alpha, casually fucking a herd of betas/other alphas and longing for a real connection. Something worth getting out of bed for, instead of tepid reactions and thin, weak scents that don’t even get his knot hard. He doesn’t think he’ll ever encounter a real omega, so he puts it out of his mind. Mickey, raised in an omega training camp after he was sold by his father immediately after his relatively late presentation. Now he is owned by another man, condemned to be a mindless breeding object. Until… (for the @spicygallavichcollab)

A Man with a Vengeful Plan - “You’ve never been loved, I can tell.” Angst fic for the @odietamo-gallavichzine Fanzine!

Who am I when I’m not with you? - Prompt: Mickey has a case of doubt where his sexuality is concerned (this is after he asks Angie if she wants to fuck) - does he enjoy Ian because it’s forbidden or does he enjoy Ian because it’s his natural inclination? We often crave what we can’t have and in Mickey’s case, it was a case of “he shouldn’t have Ian if he wants to live." For @sisitrip and the Gallavich Holiday Gift Exchange 2021 @gallavichthings

High - A one shot set in 4x08 as Mickey contemplates his secret about Ian. For Speakfuckingenglish and the Gallavich Holiday Gift Exchange 2021 @gallavichthings

Christmas is the time to say I love you - To Ian’s deep surprise, as their marriage continued, he discovered that Mickey loved Christmas. Not just enjoyed the holiday, but downright reveled in it.

Cream Filled (Donuts for your Birthday) - Mickey has a surprise planned for Ian’s birthday that’s been three weeks in the making. Things are gonna get messy.

Late Night Calls - Mickey always takes Ian’s calls, no matter how late or how often. Because that’s what friends do, right? (with @ms-moonlight-inn)

Don’t Go Home (Halloween Horror!) - Ian has a stalker, but it’s harmless, right? Right?

Pull-Apart Heart - Gallavich Kinktober Day 23: Praise Kink (with added Shibari for fun!)

The Great Untitled Rimming Story - with @ms-moonlight-inn Y'all can call it whatever y'all want, upshot’s still the same. Two writers who don’t normally write smut just taught each other how to write smut.Refit? Fixwrite? WriteIt? Fuck if we know.🍑👅❔🚿🚰🛏😕👨👅🍑😰😓😅💦😫💦👅🍦🎔🥰

Unmasked - The Tiktok/Cosplay AU literally no one asked for

Kiss Me and I’ll Cut Your Fuckin’ Tongue Out - But really, it was a test. And Mickey was the only one who knew it. (includes a podfic of the story.)

87% Solution - S11 Fix-It

Bitch - S11 Fix-It

Two Solitudes that Meet - How did Mickey Milkovich have his first time with a guy (not Ian)? Turns out, After Sex (2007) nicely answers that question.

Fathers/Sons - Mickey and Lip discuss relationships and fatherhood.

Angel of the Subway - In New York, you didn’t even make eye contact at all if you could help it, let alone hold it for more than seven seconds, through multiple blinks.

Let’s Hang Out - Mini BDSM AU

It’s What’s on the Inside that Counts, Right? - Fluffy Drabble of what Mickey says and what he really means

Completed Multi Chapter Fics

Hey Mickey - Ian Gallagher was handsome, smart and completely gay, meaning that he didn’t attract many boys. Unfortunately for his younger sister, Debbie , house rules said that she can’t date until Ian has a boyfriend, so strings were pulled to set up a romance. Soon Ian crossed paths with abrasive but handsome senior. Did Ian let his guard down enough to fall for the effortlessly charming Mickey? Of course. Now, Ian just wants to ask his damn boyfriend to prom, but worries whatever gesture he makes won’t measure up.

A REAL Lover - Mickey buys a sex doll with red hair. Chaos ensues.

A Grinding Halt - Mickey is stuck in traffic in the middle of the Lincoln Tunnel, when the lights go out. When he and other emerge, the world they find is not the one they left behind. Now he and other survivors, including an annoying but useful redhead, each on their own journeys, must confront the new reality.

Honey, Ah Sugar Sugar - Mickey & Ian have a series of conversations where they talk about candy and end up discussing their feelings. AKA How to be a healthy-ass adult. AKA It always starts as one thing with these assholes, and ends up as something else entirely. ‘Cause that’s life, people. That’s life. co-written with @ms-moonlight-inn

Material Boy - A story of Mickey and Ian in recovery from substance use disorders. This is the sequel to By and By.

BOOK-U-UP- Mickey Milkovich owns a small bookshop near the campus of Northwestern University.

The Horrified Nurse - Shameless Big Bang with @ms-moonlight-inn and art by @y0itsbri This is the story of how Nursey-boy and Grump-ass meet and fall in love. AKA Love Songs in the Key of Dumbassery

Riding Lessons - A horse show AU where Mickey is an experienced judge and Ian is very new to the horse world.

Dude, Where’s My Ambulance? with @tumblfish Mickey and Ian wake to find the ambulance gone. Who, and how, and when are the questions, but first they need to deal with each other.

No Spoons Left, Only Knives - A round-robin domesticity fic with @marzgaperez and @tumblfish

All You Knead Is Love - Great British Bake Off AU.

It’s Ok, Angel - Inspired by the art of JB/Whatsamattavich this is the story of an Angel and a Man who save each other.

The King of All He Surveys - Season 8? We don’t know her. Reclaiming the Bear Back chub bar scene, but make it 🌟Gallavich🌟! Mickey is the King of the club, and Ian, his latest admirer. (No Ian/Trevor) 6.6k

Meet me in Cognito, baby. In Cognito, we’ll have nothing to hide. - Mickey’s a stripper, and he’s quite happy about it. But then a regular develops an unhealthy obsession with him, and things progress… (with @gallavich1012) 26k

Love, Guaranteed - After 1000 first dates, Ian is still single. So is Mickey, the lawyer he hires to sue his dating app. All evidence points to romance. 27k

Mickey’s 5 Alibis + the 1 He Didn’t Need - Why were they always leaving each other, why couldn’t they ever just stay together in one place, and be safe? 8k

Wrongly, Right - "You remove your tattoo because you hate the idea of someone dictating who you can be with for the rest of your life and the person who’s removing it happens to be your soulmate and they’re torn between letting you know and just not bringing it up because you kind of went there because you didn’t want a soulmate and vice versa.” 13k

When I’m lost at sea I hear your voice - San Junipero Gallavich AU 13k

Renaissance Men - Mickey as a poet and they meet at a lounge where Mickey is performing as Ian sits in the audience…or, maybe Ian could be the bartender? 6k

Monsters of the Southside - The FaeMickey Urban Fantasy Wingfic 30k

Monsters of the Clove Court - Some secrets refuse to stay buried, and some journeys must be undertaken. Sequel to Monsters of the Southside, picking up very shortly after the end of that story.

Waiting for a Star to Fall - (Genderbent) 5 times Leeann Clayton Gallagher tried to get Mikayla Alexandra Milkovich’s attention, and 1 time she finally succeeded. 4k

Cesium-133 - TiMER AU - The path to love, even with TiMERs to show you when you find it, never runs smoothly. How will Ian Gallagher, anxious EMT and hopeless romantic, find his One? 38k

The Kash Flow Problem - Grooming, and getting out of it. 4k

Christmas Wrapping - Based on the holiday song by The Waitresses 2k

Father Christmas - Back in the day, a perfect gift arrives for Ian, but it can’t be from Santa, can it? 2k

Fearful Symmetry - “We had a really big break-up three hundred years ago, but neither of us realized the other was immortal until we met today while shopping for groceries” Gallavich AU.

Pie Guy - Mickey Milkovich is a waiter living in the American South, trapped in an unhappy life with his spying, pregnant wife Svetlana, and his controlling, abusive father, Terry. He works as a waiter at Joe’s Pie Diner, where his job includes creating inventive pies. Mickey’s secret ambition is to save enough money from his job to escape with his sister. Shameless/Waitress AU.

The Lion and The Maiden - A Federal Agent and a Carnie Archer. A lonely dom and an isolated sub. But will they be able to overcome all of society’s expectations? M/M romance, not Gallavich. ON AMAZON VELLA

A Grinding Halt- Nick is deep under the Hudson River, in the Lincoln Tunnel when something happens on the surface. When he emerges, the world is changed. Now, he is determined to get to his sister on the other side of New Jersey, convinced she survived. He and a few other survivors must navigate the unique perils of their new reality. Another survivor is on his own journey, one that seems inextricably linked to Nick’s. M/M romance (not quite Gallavich) ON AMAZON VELLA or Kindle

Looking For… - Based on the HBO series, Ian lives in San Francisco with his brother and friends. He has a tendency to be naïve and has been generally unlucky in love, but things in Ian’s life change upon meeting handsome yet cocky Mission barber Mickey and the arrival of his new boss, the attractive but partnered Kevin.

Series

Song Ficlets - These are VERY short moments all inspired by various Tiktok songs and memes.

Harm’s Way - Ian and Mickey meet in prison, with very different backgrounds.

The Recovery Series - Mickey and Ian both end up in recovery, but the path is a rocky one. This is their journey, through the steps, to each other.

Bad Magic and Sharp Wings - FaeMickey wingfic series. Monsters of the Southside and Monsters of the Clove Court. 62k

Podfics (both mine and other people’s stories, my voice and editing)

Book-U-Up (the podfic) - Mickey Milkovich owns a small bookshop near the campus of Northwestern University. This story should feel like the perfect autumnal drink of hot tea, all lemony and sweet at the same time. Romantic, seasonal fluff with a guaranteed happy ending. There’s no great plot, there’s no amazing art, just a fic that feels like fall. (read by the author.)

Embrace Me by Rumblefish14 - Approved podfic of a work not available on AO3.

The Tension & The Spark by @dodgerbear84 - This is a podfic of a completed work by another author. 🥰

Black & Yellow by @dodgerbear84 (1/1)

Graveyard Shift by @ms-moonlight-inn (1/1)

Thank You, Netflix by Blodeuwedd (1/1)

Angel of the Subway by me (1/1)

BOOK-U-UP by me (ongoing)

Coming Eventually (untitled projects)

More angst

Surprises!

Collabs!

Holiday Gift Exchange work!

Related Works

Once a Day - by @krod1017 This takes place in the Material Boy universe created by the lovely NotHereNJ. Mickey has relapsed after taking care of his shitty father during the pandemic. He hears a song that makes him sit down and write something to Ian. For Ian. 🖤

Gifts

I Love You Like This - fanart for Doll by @gauche-marbolic (IWTV)

A Last Dance with My Love by Knightsbridge07 (IWTV)

In the Words of Louis by Knightsbridge07 (IWTV)

to seduce and terrify and destroy by ofthesummer (IWTV)

Pacing The Back Room by @ms-moonlight-inn

The Dead Butterfly by @ms-moonlight-inn

Juan Valdez Can Kiss My Ass by ALL15ofem

Mutually Beneficial by Ravenheart

i like ‘em sweet by MarzgaPerez

While the mouse’s away… by @tumblefish

workin’ it out (whataya want from me?) by TeddyLaCroix (Marvel)

#@notherenewjersey #fic rec list #so much good stuff #podfics 😍#gallavich #gallavich fic rec

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