#THANK YOU GALLAVICHTHINGS! THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

howlinchickhowl · 10 months

Text

It's coffeeshop day! I couldn't possibly miss coffeeshop day. I want you to know I am absolutely working on the next full chapter of Ristretto, but for today's a.u.gust prompt I thought it would be fun to do a little switcheroo, so here is a little Ristretto Mickey POV for while you wait. @gallavichthings as always, thank you :)

edited to add a link for Ristretto, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, this is my coffeeshop au I am already writing! So if you like this little sojourn, you can go read that as well.

Thank you for the extra foam eleven - coffeeshop

Fucking Iggy. Mickey thinks to himself as he barrels down the street, uncaring about the slow moving pedestrians he bumps on the way. Stupid fucking idiot.

They talked about this shit. Last week they talked about this shit. Him and Ig and Mandy they’d sat down at the shitty kitchen table they’d rescued from a dumpster and talked about how things were gonna be. They’d laid it all out, they’d all agreed, they were done with it, the life they’d been raised to lead, drugs and guns and fights and prison and parole and dying shitty violent deaths at the hand of shitty violent assholes who claimed they were your friends.

They were done with it. All three of them. Colin too when he gets out of jail if he wants. They were supposed to be going straight. So why the fuck was he now spending his afternoon scrambling around everywhere he can think of to put together fucking bail money? Because Iggy was a stupid fucking idiot. That much has always been true and Mickey was just as much of an idiot to think that that might have changed.

He’s been to Sandy’s and hit up his buddy Greg at the home, but he’s still a hundred and fifty bucks short and Mandy’s not answering her phone, so now he’s about to do something he and Iggy both had been expressly forbidden to do and visit her at work.

He’s so worked up he pushes the door so hard that it almost bounces off its hinges, and he locks eyes with Mandy almost immediately. Her face is like thunder and she storms over to him like she’s about to pitch a fit. Well she’s not the only fucking one.

“What?” She demands when she reaches him, not quite a whisper but definitely not the volume that he knows she’d be using if they weren’t at her job right now. She looks back over her shoulder at her co-worker, a tall red-head who is clearly watching them and clearly trying not to look like he’s watching them. Mandy grabs him and shoves him out of the way of the door, a little further from the counter, and he gets that she’s not happy to see him but none of this is his fucking fault and he doesn’t appreciate being manhandled.

“You’re not supposed to come here.” She says through gritted teeth, like he doesn’t already know she doesn’t want their family anywhere near her first real on the level employment.

“Yeah no shit Mandy, I look like I wanna be here? Answer your fuckin’ phone in future.”

“I’m not supposed to have my phone out here shitbrain, what the fuck is so important?”

They’ve gotten a bit louder, the heat of their words burning away at their control, but shooting a look back towards the counter he makes a conscious effort to lower his voice again. He’s got to be here but he doesn’t have to let everyone know they got jailbirds in the family.

“Iggy got himself a fuckin’ assault charge and I ain’t got enough for bail.”

“What the fuck Mick?!” Mandy casts furtive glances all around her and leans in closer to him, “Who’d he assault?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, just some bar fight or somethin’, it’s not serious, but because of his record and his last name they’re holdin’ him.”

“Fucking assholes. How much you need?”

It’s a lot, and he hates that he couldn’t put it together. A year ago, he could’ve, easy. That’s barely a morning’s worth of hand-jobs at the rub and tug and even without the actual jobs he could’ve just asked Sasha for a quick loan. Now they’ve gone straight it’s a lot harder to find any serious amount of ready money. He winces.

“Another one-fifty-two.”

“What am I, a stripper? I don’t carry that much cash Mickey!”

“I don’t know what you do, just give me whatever you’ve got and don’t be a fucking bitch about it alright? This is ruining my day just as much as it is yours.”

She heaves a huge great sigh and stomps off behind the counter into whatever staff room they have back there and Mickey is just stood there like a spare prick at a picnic waiting for her to come back.

He locks eyes with the redhead, who is watching him anxiously from his spot behind the counter. Mickey’s not stupid, he knows what people’s first impression of him usually is, he worked hard for that first impression when he was growing up, doing his best to intimidate anyone he ever came into contact with.

It bothers him sometimes, that he worked so hard on it that now he freaks people out without even trying, but today he’s got other shit on his mind and he doesn’t much care if some guy Mandy shills coffee with thinks he’s bad news. He crosses his arms across his chest and stares the guy down, daring him to say something, knowing that he never will.

He’s kind of hot, Mickey realizes while he’s standing there, even if he is a pussy. There’s the hair, for one thing, Mickey’s always kind of had a thing for a redhead, plus he’s built, in a lean kind of way, and his face is like, not unpleasant to look at. And because he learned growing up that if you find something pleasant to look at you shouldn’t look at it for too long, he cuts eye contact and looks away.

Mandy marches back out into the store with a wad of cash and her ratty Sun Times tote bag that she shoves in his hands with a pissed off,

“There.”

The cash he gets, he’s grateful for, it looks like maybe sixty bucks, the tote bag though, he doesn’t know what to do with. He shakes it at her for emphasis.

“What’s this for?”

“My card wallet is in there, get whatever cash there is out of the ATM, I don’t even know what I’ve got in there right now. And there’s a MAC palette I’m selling to Scheana, you know Scheana with the pinkeye?” Yeah, he fuckin’ knows Scheana, dirty fuckin’ skank always trying to come on to him and eating all his pizza rolls. “She lives on Harper, you’ll get forty for that.”

“The fuck’s a MAC palette?”

“It’s fucking eyeshadow dickwad.”

She shoves him, hard in the shoulder, and he stumbles, resents the fuck out of his whole family.

“Take it easy bitchface, I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“Just get out of here, and tell Iggy I’m gonna kick his ass when I see him.”

She’s gone already, heading back to the counter, not even looking at him when he says,

“Yeah yeah, later.”

And he’s gone, out the door and on his way to the ATM, cursing the day any of his siblings were born, and already trying not to think too hard about dark freckles on pale skin and a head of shocking red hair.

He lasts three weeks.

It’s into October when he finally caves and engineers his route to work to take him past Tamp & Grind. And, well, his sister is working, it would be weird not to stop in and say hey, or whatever.

It’s stupid, he’s aware. He’s only seen the guy once, doesn’t even know if he’s gay, doesn’t even know if he’s working. Plus Mandy will probably tear him a new one when she gets home later. All very real and good reasons not to go there.

And yet.

He shoulders open the door, it’s warm inside, the air smells sweet and rich, he’d been in such a frenzy last time he was here he hadn’t really noticed anything about it. Apart from Ian.

That’s his name, Ian. Mandy’s co-worker who has been occupying most of Mickey’s idle thoughts for the last few weeks. He’s tried, surreptitiously, to learn anything about him from Mandy when they’ve both been home at the same time. According to Mandy he’s ‘cool’ and ‘funny’ and ‘doesn’t suck ass’ like some of her other co-workers. She’s not exactly easy to get information out of but he knows she likes coming to work more on days when Ian will be there, so when she breezed out the door this afternoon with half a smile on her face he’d taken a chance on it being a day Ian was working too.

He was right. Mandy is sat up on one of the counters, can’t be fucking sanitary, and Ian is stood just by her, messing with something under the counter.

“Could I be a sexy latte?” He hears Mandy ask, smiling over at Ian, and what a weird and disturbing image.

“What the fuck?” Mickey finds himself asking, getting the attention of the two of them and oh. He’d kind of convinced himself the last couple of weeks that his brain had amplified how good looking Ian was, that he was actually just a regular looking guy and it was just the fantasy of him that Mickey was powerlessly focused on. Boy had he been wrong.

If anything he’s more good looking than Mickey remembers, sculpted face and long lashes and deep green eyes the shade of pondweed, but in like a hot way. Shit.

“What are you doing here?” Mandy asks like he’s a fucking bug she flicked off of her windscreen this morning come back for a second go.

“Was in the neighborhood.” It’s not a good answer, suspicious as fuck, really. Mandy scrunches her nose up at him and raises one eyebrow.

“Why?” She asks. He can’t think of a single good reason.

“None o’your fuckin’ business, that’s why.”

She rings him through a coffee and they bicker back and forth about the price for a minute or two, four bucks for a black coffee seems like daylight fucking robbery to him, maybe they should open a fucking coffee shop, seems like that’s where all the money is these days. Fuck the coke, give ‘em caffeine.

He looks around the shop a little while he waits for his drink, reading the flyers stuck up on the noticeboard, fiddling with the little packets of Splenda and wooden stirrers and shit, all while chancing little glimpses of Ian behind the espresso machine. Not too obvious. Mandy already knows something’s up, she’s not giving him enough shit about being here, she’s definitely gonna get into him later, so he’s not trying to hide his interest from her, exactly. But he doesn’t want to let onto Ian just now, doesn’t want to make the guy uncomfortable if he’s not gay, or if he’s just not into Mickey. He’s shooting his own discreet glances Mickey’s way though so he feels like maybe it’s not a totally one-sided thing.

Mandy calls him over when his drink’s ready and he takes a sip right when he grabs it, suddenly itching for something to do, some purpose after he’s been stood around for five minutes just waiting. They’ve given him a fucking hazelnut latte.

Sometimes he can’t fucking stand his sister.

He always orders black coffee. Everywhere he goes, black coffee. Sure he’s got a bit of a thing for sugar, who in the world doesn’t like something sweet? And when Mandy shows up sometimes with some sort of flavored monstrosity he’ll take a sip or two, it’s no big deal. But now she’s made it seem to Ian like he’s some sort of pussy who not only likes caffeinated syrup drinks like a fourteen year old girl, but also is too much of a pussy to admit he likes them.

She’s a fucking bitch, and he tells her as much, and Ian. Well. Ian doesn’t like that.

Mandy’s probably been called a bitch a thousand times in her life, and no one has ever jumped to her defense before now. But Ian, fucking, knight in shining green apron is right there, hand on Mandy’s back, telling Mickey not to talk to her that way, and what the fuck? Mandy gives as good as she gets and if Ian hasn’t learned that yet he will, and probably soon.

It’s not not hot, him squaring up to Mickey, though the fact that it’s over Mandy’s honor gives him some pause for thought, makes him wonder if he’s got it wrong, if Ian’s actually into Mandy, actually not interested in Mickey at all, actually just a straight guy who Mickey’s been projecting onto. But when he licks his lips and calls him tough guy he can see Ian’s eyes flicker like it did something for him.

He takes off with his sugary drink and spends the rest of his walk to work trying to figure out what exactly is the deal with Ian, and when’s the next time he can go back. Preferably on a day when Mandy isn’t working.

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

65 notes · View notes

sisitrip · 11 months

Text

For the @gallavichthings event A.U.gust 2023 prompt "Cyberpunk", I offer "B8ted Breath."

Thank you @gallavichthings and the people behind that tag for hosting! I don't know what this is, but whatever it does turn out to be, I had fun.

Housekeeping:

Funerarium - Funeral Home

Gravecodes - Condensed data containing video/audio of the deceased that can only be viewed in my dystopian funerarium.

Rig-mech - A terraforming machine technician who works on rigs used to make inhabitable outposts, habitable.

_____________________

Ian heads into the funerarium’s Reflection Room, a glass encased dome filled with fake flowers and a dry fountain sitting in the middle of its large space. He’s made coming here a habit after a gravecode visit. A sort of cherry on the morbid cake of his self flagellation.

He takes a seat on the ring of the fountain and pulls out a small, collapsible metal cup and a mini carton of milk. As always, he feels dumb doing this, but it comforts him after a rough viewing.

He’s pouring the milk into the cup when a B8 CL-WS unit glides noiselessly into the room. Boxy and sitting atop soundless rubber wheels, it rolls around cleaning non-existent dust off the floor. He smiles, thinking not for the first time that this particular cleaning unit looks a little like a robotic military tank.

“Shit,” he curses softly as he overflows his cup and it spills on the floor. The B8 immediately makes a beeline for him. He lifts his feet as the unit’s small, microfiber pad swipes through the liquid then blows heated air to dry what's left.

He laughs knowing he must look ridiculous with his feet hanging above the floor and his dumb collapsible cup raised in an awkward toast. The unit goes on blowing warm air, unmoving. This is the longest wipe and dry he’s ever seen. He couldn’t have spilled that much.

“Uh, I think it’s dry now,” he says.

The B8 just continues blowing air and he can feel it sliding uncomfortably up his pant legs. Great. It’s malfunctioning.

“Area sanitized. Retract.”

The unit doesn’t move.

“Um, retract,” he tries again, legs starting to ache in their raised position. “C’mon, retract dopey.”

Nothing.

Ian notices the code on the unit’s exterior has been altered. An ‘A’ has been scratched over the dash between the CL and WS. Despite his irritation, he laughs. It’s probably been done before, but for some reason, seeing that silly CLAWS etched into this broken cleaning unit is what he’d needed.

“Claws my ass, you box of junk. I should give you a kick,” he chuckles.

“I wouldn’t do that. She's been retrofitted with a mini-flame thrower.”

The voice startles him so badly, he falls backward into the fountain, cup flying. He bounces his head off an ornate cherub and sees stars.

“Jesus fuck!” he shouts, flailing as he tries to get out of the fountain without kicking the stupid B8 unit that was now whizzing back and forth over the newly spilled mess.

A hand braces itself on the rim of the fountain, bearing faded knuckle tattoos that spelled “FUCK.” He stares at it dizzily, fascinated by how menacing that hand looked despite its small size.

“If you’re thinking of taking a bath in this thing, it ain’t gonna happen, Cherry.”

A man, sporting a black military cap atop longish dark locks, peers down at Ian with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen this close. The looming man’s expression was equal parts amused and irritated as he held out his other hand.

Ian takes it and lets himself be hauled to his feet to properly look at his rescuer. This man was no more than 5’7” with a small, but compact frame and not the hulking menace he thought he was. Not usually Ian’s type, but those eyes. They were something.

He stares a little too long and the man snaps his fingers in front of his face.

“How hard did you ring your bell, man?”

Caught without an excuse for gazing longingly, Ian's face warms.

“That thing almost burned the hairs off my legs,” he complains, reaching down for his cup only to have the B8 snag it with a hook and toss it into a compartment on its back. “For Christ’s sake!”

The man rubs a finger across his ridiculously kissable mouth, chuckling quietly. Despite his irritation, Ian finds himself fighting an answering smile.

“The fuck you expect a cleaning unit to do?” the man scolds. “You drop shit, it picks it up.”

Ian rubs the small lump that’s starting to swell on the back of his head, anger flaring at the less than contrite attitude.

“I didn’t drop a damn thing. It flew out of my hand when you ninja'd out of thin air.” He glares at the man, noting his uniform, an all black jumpsuit bearing the name of the facility. “You work for Obriad?”

“That’s what the jumpsuit says.”

The man leans down, presses a series of buttons on the underside of the B8 and it takes off, zooming away towards a black door partially obscured by two huge, fake palms. The unit stops at the door, waiting patiently, like a dog.

“Then you might want to take that unit out of commission until it can be repaired,” Ian suggests, drinking the milk and taking in the tattoos on the man’s other hand. He snorts. Fuck U-Up. This one's a walking, talking poet.

“There’s nothing wrong with that B8. You spilled milk and it kept cleaning until it was dry. No use crying about it,” the man says, as if he's addressing a child.

Angry and at a loss for words, Ian drains the milk, taking in the man’s half smile that could be flirtatious or condescending. It feels like both. He regroups.

“I'm not going to argue about a faulty B8. Just try not to have it burn the hair off anyone else’s legs.”

He turns to walk away and is stopped by the snottiest intonation he’s ever heard.

“Sir, yes sir. Obriad extends its sincerest apologies, Mr. ...?”

Ian allows himself a quick grin before turning to look haughtily over his shoulder. Yeah, that smile he’d been confused about earlier? Definitely flirty.

“Gallagher. And you’re …?”

“Devastated by your displeasure.”

Ian laughs and that seems to please this exasperating man who continues.

“It's Milkovich. I run operations here and rest assured, your leg hair will be safe from now on.”

Ian gets a smile that eclipses every light in the room. Hell.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Milkovich.”

He gives a short, weird wave, suddenly unsure of how his hands work. Neck burning, he walks quickly to the e-lifts, silently cursing his inability to ever play it cool.

“It's Mickey.”

The softly called name reaches him at the doorway of the Reflection Room. He turns and Mickey is walking backwards toward that palm framed door, hands in his pockets. Ian considers for less than a second before offering his own name.

“Ian.”

Mickey touches the bridge of his cap and salutes him in an exaggerated farewell worthy of a sultan. Ian huffs a soft laugh and heads to the e-lift. After depressing his thumb to the location pad, it opens.

He spends the quick descent and vertical shifts to his transport thinking about how Mickey seemed less like a funerarium operations director and more like a rig-mech. Gruff and teasing, his demeanor was better suited for that kind of rough outpost work. Ian should know. He'd bedded more than a few of them.

The transport calculates the best route home and it's only halfway there that he realizes he's left his cup. He tells himself that he has to remember to ask Mickey for it on his next visit. It was everyone's duty to keep waste to a minimum, right? Retrieving a perfectly usable cup was the responsible thing to do. Honor demands it.

He looks at his reflection in the impenetrable plexishield of the window and the smile he wears is unique if for no other reason than it's a first on many levels.

It's the first time he's smiled in months. The first time he's smiled in this stupid transport he'd inherited from Monica.

More importantly, it's the first time he's ever smiled after a gravecode viewing.

He stares unseeing at the dry, rundown landscape of the approaching outpost and can't decide if this development is a good thing or cause for concern.

He shrugs. It doesn't matter. It feels good and that’s so rare for him, he savors it.

Maybe finding something to smile about in a funerarium is sacrilege. Maybe it’s not.

Whatever it is, he’ll be back next month if only to see those blue eyes again.

#a.u.gust 2023 #gallavich #my fic #ian x mickey

31 notes · View notes

dynamic-power · 8 months

Text

Leather and Laces

This is my last bingo submission! Thanks @gallavichthings for hosting this year, it's been fun getting to participate and see everyone else's work!

Here are the 5 bingos I completed

Find them all here on ao3!

This final one is for my last Free Space!

Rated E | 2k

Ian leans against the doorjam between their bedroom and bathroom, watching as Mickey laces up his boots. He’s wearing his favorite pair of black work pants and one of his white tank tops. He’s talking about something - the job he and his brothers are doing today, maybe? - but Ian isn’t really paying attention.

He’s too focused on watching Mickey’s short fingers tying the laces of his boots.

CW: Daddy kink, feminization, boot worship

-----

He’s too focused on watching Mickey’s short fingers tying the laces of his boots.

Black leather hides steel toes and has begun to crease in spots as Mickey has worn them in. He always laces them all the way up, tucking his pants into the tops to keep them out of the way. The soles are thick, especially at the heel, and Ian can’t help but wonder at the damage Mickey could really do with them if he was properly motivated.

Ian wants him. He wants to be reminded of just how strong and capable his husband is, and wants to remind Mickey how much power he really wields over Ian.

Ian drops his towel from around his waist and crosses the room. When Mickey catches sight of him, he stops talking, looking up at Ian with confusion. Ian grips his shoulders, easing him back so he’s sitting straight, and pushing his knees apart so Ian can kneel between his feet. Once he’s on the floor, he sits back against his heels, giving Mickey a good view of his half-hard cock between his thighs.

“E,” Mickey says softly. He looks a little regretful, like he still intends to stand up and leave.

“Daddy.” With this one word, Ian is able to tell Mickey why he shouldn’t go yet; he should linger here and give Ian what he needs.

Mickey’s demeanor changes immediately. The regret melts into resolve as he squares his shoulders. He shifts his feet and presses the sides of his boots to Ian’s calves. The leather is cool and soft against his skin.

Ian’s head rushes as he watches Mickey’s pupils blow out. All of his thoughts, the desires and demands he’d meant to express to Mickey, vanish entirely. He balls his hands into fists on his thighs and looks up expectantly.

“What do you want, baby girl?”

Ian’s stomach drops and his dick twitches. He knows his Daddy is expecting him to use his words, but hearing that nickname on Mickey’s lips has him struggling to find any. He lets out a whine and feels himself blush.

“Oh, baby girl,” Mickey coos, tilting his head, “you know I’m gonna need more than that. What’s got you bothered?”

“Your boots, Daddy.”

Mickey looks surprised for a moment. Then his mouth curls into a cruel smile. He reaches out and grips Ian’s chin, forcing his face up. His other hand slides into Ian’s curls and pulls. Ian’s head tips back and his mouth drops open at the delicious licks of pain. Mickey pushes his knees apart. The toe of his boot brushes against the side of his cock and Ian gasps. Then the sole is pressing against the top, pressing down, and Ian chokes on his next breath as Mickey steps on his dick, trapping it against the floor. The movement forces Ian to spread his feet apart and sink down until his ass is against the carpet. The position is umcomfortable, but that discomfort is overshadowed by the intense pain radiating from his groin. His eyes tear up and his nails dig into his palms as he tries his best to breathe through it. Mickey releases his head and he leans it against Mickey’s thigh.

After what could be minutes, but is probably only seconds, the pain begins to receed as Mickey lets up. As the pain eases, it is replaced by pleasure, just as overwhelming and sharp, as Ian’s blood rushes and his cock fills the rest of the way. Mickey’s boot doesn’t move away entirely, but it does lift enough to allow Ian to squirm as he moans.

“So desperate for any kinda touch, aren’t you?” Mickey tsks. “Greedy whore.”

“Please, Daddy.” Belatedly, Ian realizes his new position has put him at eye level with Mickey’s crotch. He tips his torso forward cautiously, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get his mouth on the bulge of Mickey’s dick.

Mickey stops him with a hand to his shoulder. “Nuh uh. Only good girls get Daddy’s cock. You haven’t done anything to deserve it. Wanna change that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Alright, baby girl.” Mickey releases Ian’s cock and Ian can’t help the relieved groan he lets out. He doesn’t have long to bask in the perfect ache that’s been left behind before Mickey is nudging at his stomach with that same boot, urging him to move backwards.

He awkwardly shuffles back, until Mickey seems satisfied that there’s enough space for what he wants. Then he plants his foot back again and motions vaguely downwards.

“Kiss it.”

“Daddy?”

“Show me how much seeing me wearing these turns you on, you needy slut. Kiss it.”

Obediently, Ian nods and shifts so that he can lean forward. The scent of leather and dirt assautls him just before he presses his lips to the cool surface of the toe. He tries to sit up again, but Mickey stops him, this time with a rough hand on the back of his head. He shoves Ian down.

“Like you mean it.”

Ian whines and takes in a deep breath. He trails his mouth along the outside of Mickey’s boot, letting his tongue slip out to taste the earthy flavor of the material. His head is fuzzy and he is aware of Mickey watching him carefully. He begins to put more enthusiasm into kissing the boot, alternating between his mouth and his tongue. The texture changes as he moves from the leather along the side to the laces on the front. Mickey hums from above him as he mouths down the front towards the toe again.

“Alright, you dirty bitch, I guess that’s good enough.” Mickey shifts his foot again so Ian has space to move between his thighs once more. Mickey’s fingers undo the button of his pants. “You can have it,” he says, “but only in your mouth. No touching, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ian says. He reaches up to undo the zipper but lets out a startled yelp when Mickey’s hand slaps his own away.

“What did I just say?”

“Um. That I can have Daddy’s cock.”

“Did you hear anything after that?” Mickey says, and Ian looks up at him. He’s wearing that feral grin again. “Or did you hear me say you could have it, and couldn’t focus on the rest? Are you really that dumb?”

“Please, Daddy.” Ian feels shame as he realizes he’s disappointed Mickey. It mixes with his unbearably arousal in a way that makes Ian’s head fuzzy.

Mickey’s hand comes up to his chin again, thumb stroking his cheek. “Do you need me to tell you again, baby girl?” Ian nods and squirms where he’s sitting. “No. Hands. Use that filthy mouth of yours.”

Ian nods and leans forward. He nuzzles into Mickey’s crotch, mouthing along the zip until he reaches the tab. It takes a couple tries, but Ian manages to get it between his teeth to pull it down. He noses against the fabric, pushing it aside to get to Mickey’s boxers. He bites at the waistband just enough to get the head of Mickey’s cock free of it’s confines.

Mickey’s hand dips down to help him, then, pulling himself free so that Ian has uninhibited access. “Thank you, Daddy,” Ian manages, drool collecting in his mouth as he gazes down at his prize.

He licks up the underside and then suckles at the tip, relishing in the flavor of Mickey that explodes across his tongue. He trails kisses down one side and up the other before finally allowing himself to properly take him in his mouth.

Mickey is heavy and warm against his tongue, filling his mouth perfectly. Ian pauses and settles into the heady feeling, allowing his brain to go fuzzy as he lets the very last of his control go.

“Is that what you needed, baby girl? Needed my dick fillin’ you up?”

Ian hums around his mouthful. His hips twitch forward, thrusting against nothing, and his hum becomes a whine. His fingers flex against his thighs with the desire to touch. To touch Mickey, to touch himself.

Mickey must see the movement, because he coos, “Aw, look at you, trying so hard to be good.” Mickey’s fingers dive into his hair and pull at the locks at the base of his skull. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to provide a pressure that has Ian squirming again. The hand in his hair, the cock in his mouth, the need for friction, it’s all overwhelming. Ian ruts forward again.

Mickey’s hand guides Ian’s head backwards and he goes with it, tonguing at the slit of Mickey’s length before he’s pushed down again. Mickey lets go as Ian picks up a slow pace, taking a little more of him into his mouth each time he sinks down.

“Fuck,” Mickey grunts out. Ian peers up at him from beneath his lashes, sight blurred with tears, but he can still see Mickey’s grin. “Look at you. You were made for Daddy’s cock, weren’t you? A slutty mouth like that, made to be sucking me off. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

Ian whimpers as his arousal sharpens even further. His cock is aching, leaking between his thighs, and he can’t help himself from wishing something was there, wishing he had something to hump, to get off against-

Mickey shifts his boot and Ian gasps and gags as the rough laces brush against the underside of his dick. Ian lets his Daddy’s cock go as his hips stutter again. Mickey settles his foot there, between Ian’s knees, and Ian realizes what he’s being given before his Daddy even says anything.

“You’re so desperate, aren’t you? I’m sure as fuck not touching your filthy dick, but I guess you can use this.”

Ian doesn’t hesitate to thrust against his boot. The laces are rough and sting against his sensitive skin, the toe is cold as it brushes past his balls and presses against his taint, but he doesn’t care. He leans in again, sucking down Mickey’s cock with renewed ferver as he takes his own pleasure.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Mickey breathes, and he sounds panfully honest.

Ian is barely aware of the noises he’s making, whines and moans escaping his throat as he bobs his head and thrusts his hips. He can hear Mickey panting above him, can feel Mickey’s fingers scratching at his scalp. He’s drooling around his Daddy’s cock and he’s rubbing himself raw against the boot beneath him. He’s nearly delerious with the way the stinging pain is mixing with the cresting warmth of climax.

Mickey grips Ian by the back of his head. Ian allows his throat to go lax as Mickey begins to fuck into his mouth. “Fuck. You’re gonna make me come, baby girl,” Mickey groans. He runs a thumb over Ian’s cheek, catching a tear and sucking it off of his digit. “You’re so perfect like this. You gonna come for Daddy?”

Ian can feel his orgasm fast approaching and does what he can to nod. He shifts as he’s humping the boot and the laces catch under the head of his cock at the same time that Mickey pushes down hard enough to make Ian choke. His throat convulses around Mickey’s dick and Mickey groans, coming in Ian’s mouth and across his face just moments before Ian feels himself tip over the cliff, painting the clean, black laces of Mickey’s boots with ropes of his warm spend.

When his high begins to fade, Mickey helps him up and lays him out on their bed. His jaw aches and his face is covered in a disgusting mix of fluids and he’s pretty sure he’s scratched up his own thighs pretty good, but none of that matters as Mickey curls up beside him. He cuddles in to Mickey’s side and lets himself drift, listening to the soft hum of Mickey’s voice beneath his ear.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #dyno writes #kinktober 2023 #bingo!

7 notes · View notes

gallavich-headcanon · 1 year

Text

Tag Game Tuesday

Thank you for tagging me @ian-galagher @creepkinginc✨✨✨

Tea, coffee, or soda? COFFEE

Dogs or cats? Cats 💗

Can you play an instrument? I learnt the piano for like 2 year but other than that no haha"

What’s your sun sign? Aquarius

First song lyrics that pop into your head? "So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning. I'm coming home, only thing that keeps up a part is a different time zone" (Timezone by Maneskin)

Do you have any tattoos? Yeah, I have 5 (:

Favorite place you’ve traveled? It's so hard to pick one place! I've been to Italy recently so I have to go with Tuscany.

What’s the last movie you watched? Harry potter and the prisoner of Azkaban lol

What languages do you speak? English, Hebrew, German (please don't talk to me in german, I will cry), (basic) Spanish and a tiny bit of Arabic

Do you have any hobbies? Fuck I hate this question. Reading ??? dancing, yoga, idk man

You can hang out with one fictional character for an hour, who do you choose? Reid from criminal minds

Compliment yourself: I'm a person that loves to love

This was fun! Tagging some babes @mikhailoisbaby @mishervellous @whatwouldmickeydo @whatthebodygraspsnot @flamingbluepanda @crossmydna @breedxblemickey @gallavichthings @gallavictorious @y0itsbri @you-are-so-much-better-than-that @look-i-love-u

26 notes · View notes

you-are-so-much-better-than-that · 1 year

Text

JOY LIST TIME!!

thank you @whatwouldmickeydo @gardenerian @7x10mickey @metalheadmickey and @mishervellous for giving me the opportunity to reflect on some of the good things in my life. Love you all so dearly! Here’s some of my joy:

-Potatoes

-Portuguese custard tarts

-trying new recipes

-watching a children’s play — my niece was in Newsies JR yesterday and it was fantastic! She’s 12, but all the actors ranged from 6-15 and they did a great job! Was the singing and acting good? Not particularly.. But these kids worked hard and had fun and were so brave! I could never have had the confidence at their age and I found myself smiling so hard the whole time my face hurt at the end! I’m so proud of her and I’m so proud of the whole cast!

-my trip to NJ is this Friday. Only staying 10 days this time, but I can’t wait to see my family and our pals and see a play or two!

-The way Charlie smells after a nap

-Leah’s night time cuddles

-candles

-a few weeks ago my really fucking expensive dyson broke and I was so mad because a new one was going to cost me like $900, but I kept fidgeting with it until I fixed it and now I don’t have to spend $900

-trying new bakeries in town

-this space, but more specifically the way we all love to love up on each other! @gallavichthings hosting lovefest 2023 and @gallacrafts dedicating two months of crafting to our favourite fic writers! I love that we take the time to tell each other how much we appreciate the time and energy that goes into creating. This place just gives me so much joy

#joy list

10 notes · View notes

namicilla · 1 year

Text

Happy holidays!

(it's still december, I swear)

Here's a little gift for @notherenewjersey 💖

You asked for an AU pre-slash to full relationship. It's also Fantasy!AU and H/C as you want it.

I have so much fun writing this and I hope you have fun reading it.

Also, thanks so much to @gallavichthings who organized the Gallavich Gift Exchange 2022! You did amazing!

#gallavich #fanfic #gallavich gift exchange 2022 #Sz_fanfic

4 notes · View notes

gallavichthings · 2 years

Photo

Spring is here! (well, in the Northern Hemisphere it is) The boys are ready for some spring cleaning. Are you?

Welcome to the first ever Gallavich Spring Cleaning!

What is that, you ask? Easy! It’s a multiwork event hosted by @gallavichfanficlibrary and yours truly (with some help of @gallavichprompts, thank you!) . That means any kind of work is accepted: fics, fanart, videos, gifs, you name it! Oh, and did I mention there are no requirements either? Drabbles and one-shots are more than welcome (my burn-out brain actually thanks you).

The only rule for this event is: it’s got to be PG-13 - in other words, clean. (Get it? Cause of spring cleaning? *wink wink* I’m very smart). That means no mature teams, no smut, no M18, no ~lemon~. Of course swearing is allowed (I mean, it’s still Ian and Mickey we are talking about), just keep it sfw. Think of it as a reverse kinktober, if you will.

Prompts are under the Read More. You can use only one, several or all of them. Mix and match, if you want to! Repeat them, even! They’re just your starting points!

This event will run through the whole month of April, so you may post whenever you want. Tag me (@gallavichthings) so I can see and reblog it as soon as possible. Feel free to also tag the Library if you’re posting fics (oh, and if you can, please put your fics under read mores if they’re too long and you post them here in full, as a courtesy to those roaming the tags).

For those using AO3, here’s the Collection for this event.

Let’s have some clean fun!

Situation prompts:

Spring cleaning.

It's the first sunny day in what feels like forever, after several weeks of bad weather and storms that have kept them spending most of the time in their apartment.

Spring: sniffles, pollen, and tissues.

The Big Easter Egg Hunt.

The only thing Mickey knows about his soulmate is that he’s supposed to meet him in the spring.

Teenagers Ian and Mickey somehow end up spending St.Patrick’s Day together, and it’s not a date but it also kinda sorta feels like it might be?

Spring on the Westside feels different than on the Southside.

Ian and Mickey are slowly turning their apartment into a ‘home’, bringing small touches of themselves into it.

Mickey’s always been a light sleeper who has suffered from nightmares. It’s only when they finally get their apartment sorted that he starts to sleep well and really understand what a good night's sleep can be.

The lease on the apartment is almost up. (Do they stay in the apartment? Move out? Go apartment hunting? Hire a realtor?)

One day Ian comes across an injured cat and nurses it back to health. After a few days he finds a stranger on his couch and the cat is nowhere to see. (Shapeshifting AU)

The last thing Ian expects to see in the mysterious box that Mickey brings to the dugouts is kittens. And he definitely didn’t expect that they would end up caring for them together.

5 times they visited family members + 1 time the family members visited them.

Debbie wants to make a good old Gallaghers’ style BBQ. (Everything goes wrong.)

The king sends his best knight to kill the monster that lives in the forest. Turns out, the monster is pretty charming and doesn’t actually harm anyone.

Dialogue prompt

“Well, this is new.”

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear! Okay … it’s kind of what it looks like, but just give me a chance to explain.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So hang on, let me get this straight.”

“Oh, good, you’re here! Hold this.”

“Oh, wow, you weren’t kidding.”

“Don’t just stand there looking at me.”

“Now, before I say anything, promise me you’ll stay calm.”

“You are remarkably well-behaved tonight. What have you been up to?”

"We both know this will be the first time and the last time we ever attempt this."

"Strike three! You're out!"

“How much longer till we’re there?”

“Ten bucks for this piece of crap!”

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

“No. Hell, no. Absolutely not.”

“And you can’t think of any other reason?”

“Do you maybe think, in retrospect, that this was a terrible idea?”

“Talk to me, okay? I need to know what’s going on.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly blend in.”

“Is this your first time here?”

“We need to come up with a new strategy.”

“I wasn’t sure you remembered me.”

“I never, ever want to hear you say that again.”

“What on earth happened here?”

“You gonna eat that?”

#Gallavich #Ian x Mickey #Ian Gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #Gallavich fanfiction #Shameless #Shameless US

165 notes · View notes

callivich · 2 years

Text

A little gift for @gallavichthings - you do so much for this fandom! Thank you for organising the Gift Exchange, Gallavich Week, author interviews, and giving this fandom fun and exciting things to take part in! 💖💖💖💖💖

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #gallavichedit #gallavichthings #edits #💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

117 notes · View notes

howlinchickhowl · 10 months

Text

Did ya miss me? I wrote a little something for time travel day. Thanks @gallavichthings for hosting! warning: a version of Mickey has died in this universe, but because of time travel he is also very much alive in the story. if that is not for you then see ya next time :) Whole fic under the cut for this reason.

like the corners of my mind twenty-eight - time travel

He doesn’t know, exactly, why this is the moment he chose today. Of all their moments together, this one was not exactly notable. Almost non-existent really. It’s probably not at all what Mickey had had in mind when he’d shoved the gold chain into Ian’s hand and told him with his dying breath that he could see Mickey any time he wanted, after he was gone.

It’s not like he hasn’t done any of what Mickey intended for him to do. He’s gone back to so many days that were significant for them; watched from across the street as they emerged, flushed and thrilled from the Cash & Grab the first time Mickey booty-called him, hid round a corner and listened for their thundering footsteps running away from the cops the day that Mickey kicked the shit out of Ned in boystown. He’s visited some days that were less significant too; afternoons watching from a park bench while his younger self laid in the grass with his husband and read his book aloud for Mickey to make fun of, evenings spent daringly following them around the grocery store in a hoody with his head down trying not to be seen.

This is different though. This is. He doesn’t know what this is. He’d just woken up this morning with his hand reaching, as it always does, for the empty pillow beside him, and felt the sudden urge to be here.

And now he is, stood at the edge of the field, partially hidden by the end of the bleachers in case someone clocks him, not that he thinks anyone would, even if he does look exactly like himself, even as he is on this day, a scrawny nine year old with floppy bangs and a face that is mostly freckle, if anyone noticed they’d probably just assume he was a relative. He’s safer today than on days where he visits more grown up versions of himself, but the urge to stay hidden is stronger than logic, so he skulks in the shadows and watches as his future husband pitches a fucking fit at being caught out and starts a yelling match with the ref before whipping his tiny dick out and pissing all over first base.

Nine year old Ian, manning second, ducks his face into his shoulder and fails to look like he’s not laughing. Fully grown Ian doesn’t try to pretend. His future husband is a little shit and he loves him even now, filthy, belligerent, violent as he is, that’s his favorite guy right there getting himself kicked out of little league.

He gets too lost in thoughts of teenage Mickey, recounting this story to Ian like he hadn’t been stood ten feet away, thoughts of how he wasn’t even on Mickey’s radar then, even though they played four weeks in the same league. He gets too lost and he doesn’t notice ten year-old Mickey walking right toward him on his way out of the field, yelling and cussing out the ref as he barrels right at Ian.

It’s too late to hide, and it would look weird now if he did, so Ian stands his ground, raising his eyebrow humorously at one of the more choice insults Mickey throws back over his shoulder.

“Oh yeah you like that perv?” Tiny Mickey asks, talking directly to Ian as he walks up to him. Ian is so taken aback that he can’t answer, can’t even form a single word.

“Yeah I saw you, watching me over there. You got a thing for little boys you fucking freak?”

Ian just about finds it in him to shake his head. He’s never come into direct contact with either of them before, doesn’t even know if he’s allowed.

“Sure you don’t Firecrotch, you just really like little league huh?”

He’s only ten years old, but he’s already so full of swagger and fire, he’s Mickey, through and through, just, very small. Ian remembers finding him so scary at one point, but looking at him now it seems so implausible. Even with his eyebrows raised all the way to the sky and his eyes blown wide to seem more intimidating, Ian knows how scared he is, how lonely, he knows his heart, he could never seem scary ever again.

“I’m just watching over my cousin.” Ian manages to say, finally, nodding his head over at his younger self. Mickey turns to look, clocks younger Ian’s hair and shrugs, turning back to glance over Ian’s own head and assumably figuring it’s a legit connection.

“Cousin huh?”

Ian nods. Mickey runs his eyes all over him, head to toe to chest to face and back up to his head again, worrying his lower lip between his teeth in a way that Ian was so accustomed to seeing that his heart stutters with it. Their eyes meet again and whatever thoughts Mickey is having he shrugs them off and fixes Ian with a jabbing pointed finger.

“Just fucking watch yourself alright?” He says with an air of finality and starts to lope off toward the street. Ian can hear him muttering ‘fucking alien-looking mother-fucker’ as he goes and he sends up a silent prayer, hoping that he didn’t just do anything to fuck up the course of events that would lead to the future he comes from.

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

44 notes · View notes

sisitrip · 1 year

Text

Gallavich Gift Exchange 2022

Words: 8948 For the @gallavichthings GGE 2022, I ran like a demon to get the @annatrow prompt "people find out they're together" for two very specific reasons.

One, I wanted to gift Anna a fic because she's been so incredibly supportive this year in my writing efforts and I wanted to honor that. Thank you, Anna.

Two, I've never touched this trope before and wanted to use it as a chance for Ian and Mickey to come clean about some things they were too frightened to discuss early in their relationship. Sometimes, the anonymity of a strange audience can make you brave enough to admit your most vulnerable thoughts. 👀

I hope it's enjoyable as I had so much fun with OG Cole and an original character (In-Su) of mine that will appear in my NanoWriMo fic.

You can read the one-shot here.

#gallavich gift exchange 2022 #gge2022

22 notes · View notes

y0itsbri · 3 years

Note

Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

118 notes · View notes