#ian is the most loving husband

[milky-m-milky]

Ian's gift 🥰💖

[untouchedsoap]

there is something sooo fucking good about early seasons ian and mickey, about watching this summer fling turn into something more, the fear that elicited from mickey but him being unable to stop, finding those little moments hidden away and taking all this meaning from small gestures and persevering in dugouts and under bleachers and barely pressed confessions in the back of a church that is soo good for my brain

like i am very glad mickey gets to shout his love for ian from the mountain tops and also beat his love for ian into his dad's face but when he was clenching his teeth shut and his love for ian was coming out regardless ohhhhh baby i was eating

[void-botanist]

Rose's Kiss Week Day 6: Home Alone

OCs: Sierra Callawel and Ian Carlisle (Spinder's oldest sister and her husband)

Words: 1189

Content warnings: none

Notes: Ian's canid form is a common raccoon dog. It is also well-known that shifting to that form makes you itchy.

When Sierra looked up from her computer, she could see the full moon hanging too-large over the faraway trees outside her window.  She’d lost track of time.  Ian would be transformed, now, and she hadn’t seen him at all.  She locked her computer and stood up.  The kids were out, so making a circuit of the house wouldn’t draw them out of their rooms and interrupt the nice night she wanted to spend alone with her husband.

“Ian?” she called as she started up the stairs.  “Where are you?”

She heard a mournful squeaky-toy noise from somewhere down the hall and smiled to herself as she went to find the source of it.  When she flipped on the light in her bedroom, she got a louder and angrier squeak from the bed, where a golden brown and black fluff of a dog was burying his little face under his front paws.

“Sorry,” she said, going to turn on her bedside lamp before turning off the overhead light.  He didn’t raise his head until she sat down on the side of the bed, and then he tried to crawl in her lap immediately.

Laughing, she held him back gently and got fully onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard before she let him snuffle his way into her space.  He seemed content to put his paws across her legs and rest his head on them, but she scooped him up all the way, holding him close against her.  His response was to put his paws on her arm and set his head there instead.  He was probably just tired after transforming, but he always looked so cute and sad in his dog form, and it made her want to hug him tighter.  So she did, pressing her cheek to the top of his fuzzy little head and then kissing him there.  He let out a longer squeak, stretching his neck out further, and as she petted his head she followed his gaze to the brush he’d set out for her.  Oh, of course.  Grabbing it was a bit of a stretch, and she almost dumped him out of her arms accidentally, but once it was in her hand she settled him in her lap and began running it through his fur in long strokes, head to rump.  Instantly he was a dog-shaped puddle in her lap, his only reaction little snuffles of pleasure.  

When she paused to pull out the mat of hair that had collected in the brush, he rolled over onto his back, cradled in her crossed legs.  She scratched behind his ears while she drew the brush along the contours of his ribcage and haunches and arms.  He didn’t even tense as she carefully brought it over his neck and chin.  As soon as she set the brush aside, though, he was getting back out of her lap, jumping down onto the floor with a cacophony of clicking nails and pausing in the doorway to look back at her.  She smiled and followed him back downstairs to the kitchen, where he waited by the table while she got their dinner out of the fridge: sliced chicken, lentils, and a touch of cranberry sauce.  For him, at least.  She could have as much as she wanted.  His was already in a bowl, so once she pried off the lid she set it in front of him on the floor.  He wagged his tail but didn’t move.  While she made her own plate from the main bowls of food, she saw him bend down and sniff his bowl, his eyes never leaving her.  

“You can start without me,” she said.  

He made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a growl and sat straight again. With a laugh she returned the food bowls to the fridge and brought her plate to the table.  

“Blessed be the fruits of the earth, and us among them,” she said, and he squeaked out the same cadence before shoving his face in his bowl.  She ate with half an eye on him inhaling his food, mostly because his enthusiasm was adorable.  

On the way back to bed she carried him up the stairs, letting him jump down on the bed before she got into her pajamas.  He didn’t stay on the bed, though, since she had to go to the bathroom to brush her teeth and he apparently had the energy now to not let her leave his sight.  He brushed against her ankles where she stood in front of the sink, hopped in the bathtub, and started rolling around on the textured treads on the bottom of it.  That was why he was accompanying her.  He’d told her before that there was something sublime about the feeling of the bathtub treads specifically that he really couldn’t explain.  He didn’t feel that way about them in human form.  She didn’t care as long as he didn’t leave his fur in the tub, though she was often the one who cleared it out to take a shower anyway.  But it was worth it to see him being so happy in there.  When she left the bathroom, he followed, and she scooped him back onto the bed.  He curled up right next to her while she read her book for a bit.  After she turned out the light, he yipped along with her presleep prayer, and she gave him a last pet on the head before relaxing into the dark.

At the crack of dawn the sudden weight on the bed woke her.  In the light that sifted around the edges of the curtains she could see Ian, now fully human, getting under the covers.  He turned his back to her—he might not even remember that his transformation always woke her up—but she came over to him anyway, putting a hand on his side as she kissed his shoulder.  When he shifted onto his back, she kissed his scratchy cheek, then gave him a peck on the lips before leaning back on her elbow to look at him.  There was always something a little canine about him to her, but it was stronger when he’d just come back—the way he blinked at her like a sleepy dog melded with the way he still smelled of fur.  And it was his smell, because he smelled the same if she met him in the middle of the hallway, or raiding the fridge downstairs.  After he took a shower it would fade, but for now she breathed it deeply.  She could never explain it to anyone but him, but these were the hours when he smelled most like himself, like her Ian.    

His hand slipped into the curls at the back of her head, guiding her into a deeper kiss.  She wrapped an arm around his warm chest as he smoothed his other hand over her shoulder.  He kissed her a second time, then ever so gently pushed her away.  

“Okay, I’m sleeping now,” he said with a tired smile.

She caressed his cheek, then laid back on her side of the bed.  “Goodnight.”

RKW taglist: @jezifster @kk7-rbs @vacantgodling

Shifters taglist: @outpost51 @kk7-rbs

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 7

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky’s gut had been gnawing at him for weeks, a familiar, nagging feeling whenever Ian was around. Something about the man didn’t sit right, and Bucky couldn’t shake the sense that he’d seen this behavior before. His instincts kicked in, and he ordered someone to dig deeper into Ian’s past.

The brown envelope arrived the next day. Bucky sat at his desk, his eyes narrowing as he tore it open. Inside were the results of the investigation—pages that painted a much darker picture than he’d anticipated. As he skimmed the documents, his jaw clenched, and a low curse escaped his lips, “Shit.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, you and Bucky arrived at a shelter for single mothers, a stop on the campaign trail. The women inside had experienced hardships most people couldn’t imagine, fleeing from abusive partners and trying to rebuild their lives. Their stories of survival hung in the air, unspoken but palpable in their tired eyes and wary smiles.

You moved through the room, serving food and making small talk with the women, trying your best to offer some comfort. As you handed a plate to one woman, you said softly, “I understand what kind of psychological torment you’ve been through. I hope you stay strong.”

The moment the words left your mouth, what you’d meant as a word of encouragement didn’t land the way you’d hoped.

Later that night, a video of the conversation went viral. It was clear someone had recorded the interaction and released it online. Bucky knew this had to be the work of his opponents, seizing the opportunity to discredit you—and by extension, him.

You watched the video, feeling a pit form in your stomach as the comments poured in:

"Stay strong? She doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever been through what we have."

"She wouldn’t understand. She lives in a happy home. How could she possibly know what it’s like to run from someone who’s supposed to love you?"

Their words cut deep, slicing through your carefully constructed image. They didn’t know the truth—that your marriage to Bucky was its own kind of prison. Pretending to be the perfect wife had taken a toll on you, but no one saw behind the curtain.

You froze, feeling exposed, as if they’d somehow sensed the cracks in your façade. You had become so good at lying, at convincing the world that you and Bucky were happy, that now, faced with these women who had lived through real pain, you felt like a fraud.

Furthermore, you wanted to tell them that you understood, that you too had felt trapped and powerless. But the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you smiled for the cameras, playing your part, knowing that your life was being documented as an example of “happiness.”

Then your eyes landed on a comment that sent you reeling:

"If they’re so happy, wouldn’t they have a kid by now?"

The question hung in the air, mocking you. They didn’t know the truth—how could they? And yet, their words seemed to pierce through the mask you’d been wearing for so long.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The silence between you and Bucky was heavy, almost suffocating. You hadn’t said much since the shelter incident, and Bucky could sense your stress in the way you barely touched your food or drank any water. You sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched plate in front of you.

Bucky watched you for a moment before stepping closer, his brow furrowing with concern. He gently touched your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin.

“You have a fever,” he said, his voice low with worry.

You immediately pulled away from his hand, your body instinctively recoiling. Your stress had a way of manifesting physically, and whenever you were overwhelmed, your body shut down. This was no different.

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice hollow.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew this would happen, knew how your body responded when you were pushed too far. Without a word, he slipped his arm around you, supporting you as he guided you toward your room. You didn’t resist, too tired to fight.

“Just leave,” you said once you reached your room, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Bucky ignored your words. He sat you down on the edge of the bed, gently lifting your feet into his lap. You stiffened in surprise as his hands began to massage your aching feet. The familiarity of the gesture caught you off guard—he used to do this all the time when you were together, especially on nights when you came home exhausted, too tired to even think.

Your face grew warmer, though not just because of the fever. The tension between the two of you was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words hanging in the air. Bucky’s touch, once comforting, now felt like it held the weight of all the things left unsaid.

“I’ll bring the medicine,” he said after a few moments, his voice softer now.

You didn’t respond, too lost in the swirl of emotions flooding your mind. The way his hands moved, the care in his touch—it was all too familiar. It made your chest tighten with memories of when things weren’t this complicated.

As Bucky stood to leave, you finally spoke, your voice quiet and raw. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused, turning back to face you. “Because I care. I always do” His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the walls you’d built between you both cracked, if only just a little.

You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of the day and the fever pulled at you. Bucky noticed, his eyes softening. Without another word, he pulled the blanket over you and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You lay there, your mind racing despite your body’s exhaustion. His touch, his words, they lingered long after he’d gone. You hated that he still had this effect on you. And yet, deep down, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him, wanted to let your guard down. But after everything, how could you?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You woke up, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to your limbs, but something was different. The fever that had clouded your mind the night before was gone, leaving you with a sense of relief. Slowly, you sat up, glancing around the room. Bucky wasn’t here. It was the first time you’d been alone in the apartment since arriving.

The quietness felt strange, almost eerie. For a moment, you simply sat there, trying to shake the grogginess from your mind. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to explore the space. The apartment was large, meticulously designed, but there was a personal touch to it that reflected both of you. You wandered through the rooms until you stopped at his office.

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open. His office was a mess—papers and law books were scattered across the desk and shelves, as if he’d been too busy to organize anything. But something caught your eye, an area that was surprisingly tidy amidst the chaos: his vinyl collection. It was neatly arranged, displayed with care, each record in perfect order.

Bucky loved collecting vinyls. You remembered that about him. As you approached the collection, your eyes scanned the spines of the records. Most of them were from artists both of you used to listen to. Your fingers grazed over the albums, a nostalgic pang in your chest.

Then, something unusual caught your attention. Tucked between the vinyl sleeves was a piece of paper, slightly worn. Frowning, you pulled it out and realized it wasn’t just any paper—it was a letter.

You stared at the handwriting, your heart skipping a beat. It was Bucky’s handwriting. Slowly, your eyes widened as recognition dawned on you. It was a letter he never sent. A letter to you.

Your pulse quickened as a rush of emotions hit you. Should you open it? Guilt twisted in your stomach, but then that familiar voice—the devil on your shoulder—spoke louder. He wrote this for you. He never sent it, but it’s yours.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you quickly hid the letter under your shirt, glancing around the office as if someone might walk in at any moment. Your heart raced as you hurried back to your room, the letter burning against your skin like a secret you weren’t supposed to know.

Once in the safety of your room, you sat on the bed, staring at the letter in your hands. The room felt smaller, your breaths shallow. Was this right? Should you be reading this? But you couldn’t stop yourself.

With trembling fingers, you opened the first letter.

It was short, written in Bucky’s familiar scrawl.

"I’m sorry. I know everything we went through must have been painful for you, more than I ever realized at the time. We were close, but we never truly communicated. I knew you were hurting, and I did nothing to stop it. That’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.

One day, if we ever meet again, I hope you’ll give me another chance. You deserve happiness, and I wish you the best of luck in finding it, even if it’s not with me."

You blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. An apology. Words you thought you’d never hear—or read—from him. Your hands shook as you carefully unfolded another letter.

"I read your article. It’s really good. I always knew you’d make a great writer. You’ve always had a way with words. I’m proud of you. I hope you have a safe journey."

The words blurred for a moment as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You never knew he was following your work, that he cared enough to read what you wrote. It felt like a secret window into a part of him you thought had closed off to you long ago.

With a deep breath, you opened the final letter, bracing yourself.

"I’m worried about you. Going to a war zone as a journalist—it’s dangerous, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I pray every day that you’re safe."

Your chest tightened as you finished reading, the rawness of his words washing over you. Bucky had been worried about you all this time. His concern, his pride—it was all there, hidden in these letters you were never supposed to find. And yet, here you were, holding the pieces of his heart in your hands.

It was overwhelming. You didn’t know how to feel—angry, confused, touched. All you knew was that the walls you had built to protect yourself were starting to crack, and you weren’t sure if you could put them back together.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You and Bucky met Greg again to prepare before heading to the TV station for the debate. Greg, always thinking ahead, was pacing as he went over the final details. His sharp gaze darted between you and Bucky, trying to ensure everything would go smoothly.

As the minutes ticked by, Greg suddenly paused, his face lighting up with an idea. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before Bucky heads out for the debate, you could give him a peck on the cheek. You know, for the cameras. A little show of affection can go a long way."

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, your expression neutral. "Okay," you agreed simply. The decision seemed easy enough—just a small gesture for the public eye. However, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky’s brow arch slightly, a glint of surprise crossing his features.

Bucky glanced at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "How about a kiss on the lips instead?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your exasperation. "Shut up," you muttered, though the warmth of the moment lingered between you. Bucky chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the brief banter as Greg scribbled down notes, already planning how to work this into the media strategy.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The day of the debate finally arrived. The room buzzed with tension as cameras were positioned, reporters whispered amongst themselves, and the stage was set. You stood backstage with Bucky, watching as the other candidates made their entrances. Edgar, running for president, was calm and composed, the very image of a seasoned politician.

Then there was Brock, another candidate for vice president—and Bucky’s long-time rival. The two had been at odds for years, their competition fierce and personal. The air between them crackled with animosity as they took their places.

As the debate began, the moderators threw sharp, pointed questions at the candidates, each probing their policies and character. Bucky was in his element, answering each question with practiced ease. His words were clear, his tone confident, and his delivery flawless. Every question thrown at him was met with a precise, well-thought-out response.

Moderator: "Mr. Barnes, what would be your first priority in office?"

Bucky: "My first priority is to address healthcare. Ensuring affordable and accessible healthcare is the cornerstone of a strong nation. We must invest in preventive care and make it easier for families to access the support they need."

The audience nodded in agreement, and even the other candidates seemed to respect his answer. Brock, however, was struggling. Every time he tried to match Bucky’s eloquence, he stumbled, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to make a point.

Moderator: "Mr. Rumlow, what is your stance on education reform?"

Brock: "Well, uh, we need to… to invest in schools, yes, but we can’t just throw money at the problem. We need accountability, and we need… um, better results."

His answer lacked the conviction and clarity that Bucky’s did, and you could see the frustration in Brock’s face as the debate went on.

The tension between the two men simmered, especially as Bucky continued to outshine him with every answer. But just when it seemed like Bucky had the upper hand, Brock saw an opening—and took it.

At the height of the debate, Brock's voice cut through the air, sharp and malicious. "You talk a lot about honesty and integrity, Barnes. But what about your brother? Didn’t he hit someone and never face any punishment?"

The room fell silent, a heavy, uncomfortable stillness filling the space. From your spot backstage, you could feel the tension roll off Bucky in waves. His muscles tensed beside you, his jaw clenched tight. This was his darkest family secret, one he’d hoped to keep buried. But now, here it was, dragged into the spotlight in front of a national audience.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he shot Brock a cold, hard glare. For a moment, it looked like Bucky might lose his composure. The silence stretched on, the entire room holding its breath, waiting for his response.

But then, with a deep breath, Bucky straightened, his voice steady but laced with restrained anger. "My brother's actions were reprehensible, and there is no excuse for them. But unlike my opponent, I believe in accountability—and my family has taken steps to address that privately. This debate is about the future of this country, not digging up personal attacks to avoid talking about real issues."

The room shifted as Bucky’s calm yet pointed response cut through the tension. Brock, visibly thrown by how easily Bucky had deflected his attack, fumbled for his next words, but the damage had been done. Bucky had taken control once again, leaving Brock at a loss.

Backstage, you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of relief and pride swelling within you. Bucky had handled the moment with grace.

But you knew you couldn’t rest. With Shawn’s dark secret now exposed, it meant that your marriage to Bucky could be the next scandal to surface.

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[reiderwriter]

hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Hi! I wanted to say I love the way you write everybody from Smosh. I think you capture their essence perfectly in the dialogues. I especially loved the Ian and Spencer fics :)

Also, I know requests are closed at the moment, and I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, but I wanted to share my idea. If you ever get the inspiration to write it (and the time, of course) it would be so cool. If not, no worries ^^

I would love a Spencer x reader fic where he gets jealous/overprotective. Maybe you're at a club and some drunk guy flirts with you, or you're at the beach in a swimsuit, or you're doing a collab with somebody etc. Whatever setting inspires you most. Maybe it gets a bit angsty too 👀

Thank you for the amazing fics! Have a great day, and I hope your pillow is always cold on both sides :))

Fight Club || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you’re at a club with spencer and you get hit on by a drunk man, you are annoyed that spencer feels like he has to protect you. but then, when things go too far, you get to see just how much spencer cares for you

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cursing, gross man harasses you

a/n: first of all, i can’t get over this picture send help. second, thank you sm love — characterization is really important to me and i’m so glad i’m doing an ok job!! i hope you enjoy this, protective spencer makes me weak 😩 also fem!reader bc it made sense

(and my pillow has been extra cool lately, i think you work magic 🤭)

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     “Ah, this reminds me of my clubbing days,” Amanda sighed, taking in the crowded scene around you. “We had some times back then.”

     “What are you talking about, we went to a club together last weekend,” Shayne reminded her.

     “Oh yeah,” she said. “I’m going to go get a drink. See you couples later.”

     She left and then it was just you, Spencer, Shayne, and Courtney standing together by the entrance. 

     “Hey!” Courtney announced, looking at Shayne and listening to the song that was blasting at full volume. “This is our jam!”

     Shayne smiled at his wife. “We can’t ignore that.”

     Courtney grabbed their husband’s hand, pulling him into the center of the crowd to dance. You grinned at how in love they were.

     You turned to Spencer. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

     He grabbed your hands, kissing you on the cheek. “Looks like it.”

     You were here at this club with some of the Smosh cast, a few of you having decided to have some fun after a long week of filming. 

     You enjoyed their company, but you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t glad to be alone with Spencer.

     You two had recently started dating, and you couldn’t be more happy together. And you couldn’t be more happy that Spencer was here. Neither one of you were exactly club people and, well, at least you had each other in this chaos.

     “How did we get dragged into this again?” Spencer asked you and you giggled.

     “Let’s just try to have fun,” you said.

     “Alright, but I’m getting us some drinks or something,” Spencer told you. “You think they have any Kickstart here?”

     He walked over towards the other end of the place, and you lost him in the crowd. You rested your elbow on the bar in front of you, waiting for Spencer to return.

     You let your eyes scan the club, finding Courtney and Shayne in the crowd. You saw Amanda a ways off, chatting up some other woman, arms gesturing wildly. 

     “So, do you come here often?” 

      You looked around you. The man who had spoke leaned across the bar, waiting for your answer. 

     “No,” you said. “Never been.”

     “Well, let me know if you want any drink recommendations,” he told you. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

     “Oh, um, thanks,” you said, wondering exactly what that meant. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

     He took a sip of the drink he held, eyes never leaving your face. 

     “You got a boyfriend?” He asked.

     “Actually I—”

     “‘Cause you’re awfully pretty to be here all alone,” the man interrupted. 

     “Good thing she’s not then,” you heard Spencer’s voice from behind you. 

     He came up next to you, staring down the man at the bar.

     “And who might you be?” He sized up Spencer.

     “I happen to be (Y/n)’s boyfriend,” he put his arm around your shoulders. “She’s mine. And you are?” 

     “Yeah okay,” The man scoffed, standing up completely and setting his glass down. He ignored Spencer, looking at you. “Later (Y/n).”

     He left, but not before turning around to look at you one last time as he walked away. 

     “Yeah you better run,” Spencer said, even though the man wouldn’t be able to hear him.

     “What a jerk,” Spencer turned to you. “They did not, in fact, have any kickstart, by the way, so we’re going to have to get through this sober.”

     “Okay what was that?” You put your hands on your hips.

     “What was what?” Spencer searched your face.

     “I could’ve handled that guy myself, you know,” you said. “And for all you know, he was just being nice.”

     “(Y/n), did you see the way he was looking at you? That wasn’t nice, that’s the way some snakes look at gerbils and stuff before they eat them.”

     You raised an eyebrow at him. 

     “I don’t know, Amanda had me watch some documentary,” he waved the topic away. “But seriously, that wasn’t just friendly.”

      You knew he was right. You’d encountered enough men like him to know. Still, you wanted Spencer to know you could handle yourself. That you didn’t need him scaring men away for you.

     “Sure you’re not just jealous?” you joked, rolling your eyes at him.

     “Oh, one hundred percent,” Spencer said, surprising you. “Look at you. There’s probably loads of guys here who would give their right arm to take you home tonight.”

      A muscle ticked in his jaw and you saw his fingers form a fist by his side. “But I also know that there’s some people here who are real creeps, and that guy’s one of them.”

     “And you don’t think I can deal with them?” You asked, honestly.

     He shrugged, a stark contrast to the wild look that was still in his eyes. “Doesn’t matter, cause I want to…deal with them.”

      “Whatever, I’m going to see if I can catch up with Amanda,” you said, turning around before Spencer could catch up with you. 

      You didn’t look back, making your way through the crowds of people and towards the back of the club.

     You knew you were being stupid and stubborn, but you didn’t want Spencer to think he had to fight your battles for you.

     You weren’t really paying attention to where you where going as you scanned the crowd for one of your friends. 

     “Hello again.”

     You looked up to find yourself face to face with the guy from before. 

     “Hey,” you said, smiling quickly before trying to walk past him. He stepped closer to you, stumbling forward.

     “Not so fast, pretty girl,” he slurred. “You haven’t let me buy you a drink yet.”

     “That’s ok,” you told him, taking another step forward that he blocked. “I should really head back to my friends.”

     “That pathetic excuse for a boyfriend?” He leaned even closer and you noticed the smell of alcohol on his breath. “Forget him. Let me show you a good time.”

     “I’m really not interested,” you tried again, trying not to panic as he cornered you. 

     “‘Course you are,” he said. “Let me take you back to my place and we can—”

     “For the last time,” you started, your voice raising. You were done being nice to him. “I said I’m—”

     He grabbed your wrist then and you cried out, struggling against his grip.

     You were aware of the fact that he could easily overpower you and that no one around you was paying attention as they danced to the music. 

    “Hey man, you wanna get your fucking hands off my girlfriend?” a voice said calmly.

     The man let go of you suddenly and you turned around for the second time that night to find Spencer. You didn’t know how he got there, but in that moment you were just eternally grateful that he was there 

     “Get lost, bastard,” the man said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

     “Actually I think it very much does concern me,” he said, stepping between you and the man, grabbing your hand subtly as he did so, your fingertips touching his. “And I also think it’s time for you to go.”

     “Your girlfriend wants me,” the man said. “Go ahead and ask her.”

     He started to reach towards you over Spencer’s shoulder but Spencer backed up, pushing you with him, tightening his grip on you. 

     “You so much as lay a finger on her again and I’ll throw hands,” he said, his voice like ice.

     You had never seen him like this before. He was usually pretty calm, even tempered, good humored—you hadn’t seen him so much as hurt a fly. 

     But now he looked like he would actually beat this man up if it came down to it.

     The drunk man seemed to realize this too, and didn’t want to cause a scene, because he shook his head, relaxing his posture. 

     “This isn’t worth it,” he mumbled, looking over Spencer’s shoulder at you. “You’re a bitch anyways!”

     He turned around and walked away. You let out a breath, your shoulders falling from their rigid pose.

     “Thank god, I almost thought I was going to have to fight that man,” Spencer breathed out. “I love you, but he was pushing 6’5”.” 

     You laughed breathlessly as Spencer turned around to you, pulling you into his arms. 

     “Are you ok?” He asked, pulling back to get a good look at you. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

     “I’m fine, Spence,” you said. “Thanks to you. How did you even know where we were?”

     Spencer rubbed the back of his neck with one of his hands. “I might’ve followed you.”

     “Well, I’m really glad you did,” you told him. “You were right.”

     “Really? I thought you’d be pissed.”

     You weren’t. You realized you didn’t care so much any more about making a show of taking care of yourself. Spencer had kind of saved your ass. If it wasn’t for him, who knows what would have happened. You shuddered thinking about it.  Besides, you were partners—and that meant being there for one another. You didn’t have to do everything on your own.

And seeing Spencer tonight, being so protective of you, made you realize how much he cared for you. It was sweet knowing that he would defend you and stand up for you. 

     “I don’t know,” you said, your tone light. “I kind of liked seeing this side of you.”

     Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Well then, we might have to come to clubs more often.”

     “I vote no on that one,” you said.

    “I couldn’t agree more. Now c’mon,” he flicked his head towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

     You nodded. “What about the others?” 

     “I’ll text them and tell them we got a cab.”

     You walked in silence for a moment, the noise of the club filling your ears.

     “I can’t believe you almost fought a man,” you teased.

     “Hey, it was about to be Fight Club in there,” he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t think you know what that movie’s about,” you laughed, grabbing his hand.

“Seriously though, you don’t think I could have taken him?” Spencer asked, amusement in his eyes.

     “If he was a character in a video game? Absolutely.”

     “Ouch,” Spencer clutched his chest. “Still have to work on my public perception.”

     You giggled as Spencer opened the door for you and you felt the cool, night air on your cheeks.

     “But, I don’t know, you did look pretty determined. I would have bet money that you would have at least knocked a few teeth out.”

      “I would’ve liked to. He was looking at you like…like…”

     “…like he wanted to make me his?” You finished. 

     “Exactly” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, before kissing you gently. 

     “And only I get to look at you like that.”

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you guys enjoyed!! ahh this is the last of the fics i had to catch up on!! i feel so accomplished lol time for my sleep schedule to go back to normal. see y’all again when my requests are open. 💋🎀

[jelliedink]

Little Revenge

Warnings: smut, cheating!, pet names, older man/younger woman, boss/employee, power dynamic Picture is not mine. Divider by @thecutestgrotto

“You’ve fucked your wife thinking about me before, haven’t you?”

Your boss, with whom you’ve been chatting for the past hour, nearly choked on his drink.

“Excuse me, but where did that come from?”

It wasn’t the smoothest delivery, but you just couldn’t think of a better way of introducing the topic and you were afraid of losing the courage to do so. You’ve been babysitting his daughters sporadically for almost 2 years now, as you did with many other children in your university campus’ neighborhood. Everything was fine until about 8 months ago, when his work schedule became flexible enough to allow him to always spend some time in the house most of the days you were there. Before this you dealt almost exclusively with his wife, meeting her at the start and the end of every shift. Since this change, though, Ian was the one you spoke the most to.

At first, you didn’t mind it. It was quite nice, actually. Ian was reliable, pleasant and seemed to genuinely care for you. When with you he was always trying to lift the mood, asking about how things were going in your life and offering advice. 

But then he seemed way too interested in you, and his wife, previously sweet and warm towards you, became increasingly harsher and nitpicky.

“I have a theory for what the real reason why Mrs Allen fired me is. When you started staying at home I didn’t think too much of it, but it became difficult to believe you were just being hospitable as you gradually increased the frequency in which you inquired me about my love life and found excuses to touch me in ways that would make your wife fire me on the spot if she saw.”

Ian’s charming face changed its expression from its typical amicable neutrality to a condescending look.

“Darling, I think we have a great misunderstanding here.”

Your heart started beating faster, the voice in your head that said you got it all wrong getting louder by the minute. But now there was nowhere to go but forward.

“Mr Allen, I’m not mad at you. I’m actually kind of flattered, you know? To have an attractive and successful man such as yourself look at me in that way. I’m mad because I can’t get other jobs in the neighborhood because, as told by some of the other nannies, Mrs Allen has been warning all the mothers about her shameless babysitter that appears to be trying to sleep with her husband.”

His face didn’t change.

“I’m sincerely sorry about that, and rest assured you’ll be compensated for the trouble my wife’s actions brought you, but I still can’t see how that led you to such an unusual question.”

“Are you really not going to drop the act?” His insistent denial made you so nervous you felt almost dizzy. What if you were making a fool of yourself? “That’s a shame, really, because I was looking forward to letting you know how the real thing feels.”

Upon hearing this last statement, Ian confusion and disbelief flashed through his face, breaking the mask for a moment. Then his eyes filled with amusement as he answered you.

“My dear, aren’t you something?”

He got up from where he was sitting to get closer to you, squatting down in front of your seat in order to bring his face to your level. His initial defensiveness seemed to almost disappear, curiosity replacing it as he questioned you, eyebrows raised: 

“Aren’t you afraid of the consequences in case you turn out to be incorrect?”

You were. But you also knew your reputation was already unsalvageable, so you didn’t see how it could get any worse.

“It’s not like anyone is going to believe me, so I have nothing to lose anymore, I thought I might as well try and get something positive out of this whole situation.”

He let out a hum of acknowledgement and stayed silent for a while, his eyes fixed on you while trying to decide if you were telling the truth or if it was some sort of elaborate joke. Seeing that he was not yet fully convinced, you decided to face his gaze and say something you thought would help him make a favorable decision.

“You know, I’ve only been with guys my age before and it has been really disappointing. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t secretly hoping for you to show me what a real man feels like.”

Ian let out a loud, amused laugh at your flirting attempt. His lips were still curled when his hands touched your chin.

“And to think I’ve been chastising myself for feeling attracted to the young, innocent little thing I thought you were.” He let out a series of “tsk”, feigning disappointment at you. “I feel tempted to take up your offer, missy, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll do exactly as I say and, once we start, I’m not going to stop. So, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” You nodded almost immediately. “But I have a condition of my own, too.

His eyes filled with curiosity.

“Oh, do you, kitten? And what is it?”

“Fuck me in the master bedroom. I want to have the satisfaction of knowing your wife will be sleeping in the same bed you fucked me in.”

Your request caught him by surprise, making him look at you with a mix of disbelief and delight. 

“My, my, how did such a petty little devil make her way into my peaceful home? Alright, I can do that for you.” He closed the distance between your faces in a kiss, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and the other behind your knees. “Up we go.”

You hid your face in the crook of his neck while he carried you, unsure of what to do next, until he laid you on the bed.

“Here we are, sweetheart. I must admit, I thought you were smarter than this.” The condescending tone came back while he gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. “Lucky me.”

He didn’t give you time to fully understand what he said before he kissed you firmly. It didn’t take long until you were straddling him, his hands traveling through your body, eventually finding their way under your dress. For a moment it felt like he was looking for something on your bare skin, until he broke the string of kisses and looked at you with a grin.

“Of course you’re not wearing underwear.”

“In case you needed more convincing.” You answered, suddenly self-conscious of that decision.

“So you were that determined to be my little whore today? What a naughty kitten we have here.”

He immediately started kissing down your neck while you clumsily palmed his abdomen through the polo shirt he was wearing. He took it off right after helping you get out of your dress, and then leaned back for a moment to admire your naked figure with hunger in his eyes.

“Oh, pretty, you look just right.” His hands ran through your upper body, eventually fondling your breasts. “The perfect little toy.”

His mouth joined your body once again, leaving kisses all around your collarbone and chest while your hands tugged lightly at his hair. You moved your hips, trying to find the perfect spot to grind on top of his clothed cock, and you felt him smile when he noticed what you were doing.

“So desperate, grinding on me like you were in heat. Let me see how needy you are.”

One of his hands traveled to your pussy, and he groaned the moment he felt how wet you were. Then he started alternating between slowly rubbing your clit and moving his fingers through the whole length of your cunt, parting your lips and teasing to enter you, only to slide back again. The whole time his eyes were glued on your face, watching your expressions change as he toyed with you. You were way too turned on to feel shy at his gaze.

“Ian, just fuck me already.”

“Of course you do, kitten. But first you’re going to put on a little show for me, ok?” He took his now soaked fingers back to your entrance. “Daddy’s going to curl his fingers up and you’re going to fuck yourself in them.”

“Haven’t you teased me enough already?” you whined, frustrated.

“Princess, you were the one who asked me to show you what it's like to be with a real man. You thought I’d just pound my dick into you mindlessly like the guys your age?” He brought his torso near you and nuzzled his face on your neck, speaking into your ears. “No, pretty. We’re going to be here for a while.” 

Then he leaned back again, curling his fingers as he said he would.

“Now be the good, obedient girl I know you are and fuck yourself on my hand, ok? Don’t make me ask again.”

You obeyed, placing your hands on his shoulders to support yourself while your hips moved up and down, his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt with ease from how slippery you were. 

“Ian…” You started, after a while, panting and almost breathless. “Please, I  need to ride you.”

“‘Need’ is a strong word, kitten. I’m having so much fun watching you act like a horny pet for me.”

“Please.”

“Shhhh…” He shushed you, stuffing your mouth with the same fingers you were riding. “You’re talking way too much for a pet. Be a good kitten and lick my hand clean.”

You sucked and licked all of your slick off his fingers, not breaking eye contact. When you finished he connected your lips again, this time with a kiss that seemed like he wanted to devour you.

“Such a tasty pussy. I’d eat it for hours if you weren’t so needy. Lay on your back for me.”

As you did so he finished undressing himself, hovering on top of you immediately after, one of his hands caressing your tights and propping you to lift it up to his waist.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll give you what you want this time.” You let out a loud, obscene moan at the feeling of the head of his dick running across your cunt. “I’m going to fuck your pussy now, ok?” 

“Mhmmm.”

He forced all of his dick into you at once, groaning a low “fuck” when he bottomed out. His dick was not that long but the girth felt good. You dug your nails in his back as he started moving his hips, skillfully rolling them towards you while kissing you once more.

“If I knew that little warm cunt felt this good I’d have taken you sooner.” He muttered at your mouth, along with a string of swear words you never thought you would hear from his mouth. “God, listen how fucking wet you are.”

You couldn’t say anything at first, his rhythm leaving you breathless and unable to make any other noise other than pants and moans. But when your cunt adjusted to his size, you started pleading for him to go deeper.

When he heard you, he stopped for a moment to grab a pillow and place it under your lower back, wasting no time sliding back in when you found a good position. 

“Better now?”

“Fucking yes.”

It felt better for him too, and it didn’t take too long before his pace started to get frantic. Then you placed one of your hands on your clit and started rubbing it, moaning even louder at the added stimulation. He moved his lips to your ears and started praising you when he noticed this, saying how pretty you looked stuffed with him, how cute your moans were, how perfect your pussy felt. You felt your orgasm approaching even quicker. 

After you came your arms went limp, barely holding Ian as he came inside you. He then kissed you one last time before falling by your side, both of you catching their breaths. His arms pulled you closer to him, and you laid your head on his chest until he decided to break the silence.

“You are a diamond. You did so, so well”

“The best fuck you’ve had in months?”

He laughed loudly before giving you a peck in the forehead and answering your question.

“You truly are a little devil, aren’t you? But how do you feel?”

“Great. A little ashamed, to be honest, but great.”

He gave your forehead another peck.

“Don’t worry about it, my darling. That was also not my wisest decision, but I enjoyed it very much.”

You hummed and snuggled in his chest even more, unsure on what to do next. Thankfully, it felt like he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

“Here’s what is going to happen now: we’ll take a bath and eat because no man in their right mind would send a woman home like this. Then, you’ll get to decide  if you want to go home after accomplishing your little revenge or if you prefer to spend the weekend with me in the lake house and not have to worry about your bills for a very long time.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“Are you trying to buy me?”

“I’m willing to pay very well for it. But you don’t have to answer me now.”

He started getting out of the bed to prepare a bath, and once it was ready he came back to the room to take you there. When he took you in his arms again you materialized a thought that had appeared.

“I know it sounds silly now, but even though I’m tempted to spend the weekend with you, we’d have to stop by my house for me to get some clothes.”

Hearing this his mouth opened in the most mischievous grin.

“Don’t worry about it, kitten. My wife has a whole closet there for me to fuck you in.”

[twdgkidsdeservebetter]

Everything Wrong With Umbrella Academy Season 4 (Characters)

The way it felt like someone who had never seen the show wrote this season????

The characters were AWFUL and were almost entirely new characters with all their previous character development forgotten.

Allison - Honestly, I don't like Allison (after watching THAT scene w Luther), so I really didn't care what happened with her this season. I think it does suck that she wasn't able to be happy with Ray, they were nice together. Also, no rumours? Her power was one of the most interesting out of the family.

Luther - People were commenting about how childish and positive he was being this season and how it was out of character from him being so serious. Honestly? I love silly Luther, he's such a breath of fresh air. I also like to believe that because Luther was assigned the leader of the family (being number 1 and all), he's able to enjoy himself without that pressure. Also, I also love to believe that Luther is using being positive and silly as a coping mechanism as to not be overwhelmed by the sadness of losing Sloane and also his current living situation. Giving him his gorilla body back was so unnecessary and makes no sense cause it wasn't the marigold that gave him the body.

Ben - He sucked. I hate that Sparrow Ben was the one that was dragged with them because it meant that we had to deal with him sulking and being angsty the whole time. Also, the character development we witnessed 1-2 just disappeared instantly cause of Sparrow Ben. Also, his friendship with Klaus was the best thing in the show and I hate that we never get to see that in season 3.

Klaus - I was actually so happy for him being sober, even if he wasn't living the best life because of his paranoia with death and germs. So it really sucked when that immediately went down the drain the second his body got the marigold.

Diego - He deserved better. Yeah, his constant complaining about his "belly" (which wasn't even that big of a difference??) and wanting to go back to his old super spy life did affect his and Lila's marriage, but when he realised that he immediately accepted that he was at fault and was willing to improve their marriage to make Lila happy.

Lila - I liked Lila before season 4. I don't know what they were thinking honestly by changing her entire character. Yes, she and Five were stuck for 7 years together, but seriously? That plot added NOTHING to the story because in the end, Lila chose Diego and then they all DIED like 10 minutes later!!

Viktor - Honestly? Viktor didn't really stand out this season for me. Sure, he got kidnapped by Ian Hawk. I thought the idea of him trying to remove the marigold from Ben was a really cool idea but then it just didn't happen. I thought his interactions with Reginald were decent, since it's interesting to see how this Reginald thinks about Viktor compared to the original timeline Reginald.

Five - It's honestly kind of impressive how the writers were able to make the best character in the show the worst character by the end of it. They completely changed his whole character. First, his personality is duller than a door nail. He's so emotionless and so boring. Where's the excessive facial expressions and movements? Second, changing his motivations. For the past 3 seasons we have watched him with one goal in his mind; "Save the world and his siblings". So why would Five ever possibly consider both giving that up for Lila of all people. Third, giving Five a love interest was so useless and lazy. Why would he choose a girl over his siblings? Especially one literally MARRIED to his BROTHER. Fourth, him being all pouty and jealous over Lila choosing Diego (her husband and father of her kids - no shit she was gonna pick him over Five, literally have no idea why Five even thought he had a chance) to the point where he plans to just ditch his family in the middle of a big fight. Five, him fighting Diego in the middle of said big fight. THEN, Five just gives up??? Yeah, that's probably all he could do but seriously, this is Five we're talking about, the guy who survived in 45 years in the apocalypse to try and get back to his family and save the world. Do you really believe that he would just give up?

BONUS:

Jennifer - They could introduce a new character/love interest for Ben but they didn't do the same for Five so they just gave him the only other woman who wasn't his sister???? LAZY. Also, the amount of plot holes with Jennifer's character makes me queasy.

[mmmichyyy]

🌸 gallavich fic rec list 🌸

welcome to my 2023 fic rec list! i went through my ao3 bookmarks and my tumblr tags from this year so here's some (not all, or else this post would go on forever) of my fave (new & older) one-shots, completed multi-chaps, wips & ficlets <3

make sure to check out my 2021 list & my 2022 list ! since i'm not going to include fics i've mentioned before in this year's list :)

& don't forget to check out @gallavichfanficlibrary @gallavich-fic-club @gallavichthings @thegallavault for more recs plus @galladrabbles & @gallavichmeta too ✨ let's go!

one-shots:

doesn't matter where we go by @heymacy (The boys take a road trip.)

to think that we could stay the same by teatrolley (post-breakup au, but Mickey gets out of prison, Caleb doesn't exist, and we get really into their past and Ian’s (struggling) head)

of going home by @lalazeewrites (Valiant has taken the greatest fall from grace the superhero world has witnessed in years. The Shrike is an unregistered vigilante who doesn't even ping the radar of Chicago's crime fighting scene. Ian is forcibly put on leave from his job and returns to the Gallagher house, a failure all over again. Not only does he not know what Mickey does when the world goes dark, he doesn't know that Mickey is still living southside at all. Not since the events of eight years ago.)

quiet by @babygirlmickey (In the quiet of a perceived absence of scrutiny, Mickey can be incontrovertibly tender. Or: 5 times Mickey lets his guard down, as observed by various third parties.)

all i need in this life of sin (is me and my husband) by literatii (As embarrassing as it might be, Ian is not only his husband but also his best friend, and Mickey is pretty damn okay with that. Why the fuck would he find other people to do the exact same shit with that he already does with Ian, minus the fucking, when he can just do that shit with Ian plus the fucking? It makes no sense. Or: Ian wants the two of them to have more friends. Mickey doesn’t.)

thirteen hours by @crossmydna (Ian has known for thirteen hours that he’s not crossing the border with Mickey, so he makes the most of the time he has left with him.)

queen of decatur by jaxington (“How’d you know that?” Ian asks, smelling chum in the water, the observant little fuck. “Not like your brothers are getting sent to lady prison all that often.” Mickey thumbs at his lip, trying to find a way out of this conversation. It probably wouldn’t be too hard to distract Ian just by taking of his pants, but he is trying this new thing where he actually tells Ian what’s going on in his head. “No.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s my mom.”)

like strings of fire by @gardenerian (mickey finds a safe and colorful way for ian to indulge himself when hypersexuality rears its ugly head.)

the needle and the burning body by squash (jesuisgourde) (Mickey had two burning torches for hands but he knew what to do with them. Ian's head was on fire and all he knew was how to run and keep running. How to find a cliff and jump off. How to make Mickey chase after him, again and again. And in a cold cell in prison, Mickey catches him.)

some fucked up romcom by godisthedice (Two years after they locked him up, Mickey told himself that he was done with Ian fucking Gallagher for good. Two years as a free man and he's marrying him for all the wrong reasons.)

when the sun goes down by @sam-loves-seb (super cute and fluffy lifeguard au!)

lava java by @stocious (He's being really unprofessional. Mickey might not even be gay. He might be hitting on a straight man through takeout cups.)

here's to hoping i'm not what kills you by @crestfallercanyon (After a confrontation gone bad, Mickey and the Gallaghers get Ian to the hospital. And look, Mickey always knew that if the Gallaghers had a will they'd find a way, but being roped into their schemes himself wasn't something he'd planned on signing on for. All the Gallaghers need to know is Mickey's helping out because he's not pure fucking evil. They don't need to know Mickey was scared shitless when Ian got knocked unconscious, Jesus, he can barely admit that to himself. Once Mickey knows Ian's not dead and not dying, he's out of there. Except he can't bring himself to leave.)

to the thawing wind by @gardenerian (Living and working in the icy chill of an endless winter, Ian and his family are assigned to work the farms to bolster food supply. They live quietly enough, following the rules, until Mickey and Mandy Milkovich (with all their secrets) are moved in across the road.)

i'll come meet you where you are by @crestfallercanyon (Mickey comes back from prison with a ring of vicious bruises around his neck and an edge to him Ian doesn't recognize. But he came back. He came back, and now it's time for Ian to meet him halfway.

closing in walls and ticking clocks by c_cups_bitch_u_wish (So, this is happening. Mickey is sitting in the corner of the bedroom on the comfiest fucking chair he’s ever sat in, and his adult self and adult Ian are about to fuck. And he’s going to watch. What's most odd is that this doesn't even feel like the weirdest thing to happen to him today.)

a spark of fire by @lingy910y (“You wanted us to finally have some time alone. You wanted to keep me safe, but you didn’t really care as long as we were together. You didn’t want it to end.” Mickey swallows a lump in his throat. “I…I don’t fuckin’ know.” “But can I, uh, ask you something else?” Ian rubs his thumbs together. “You like me, Mick. You fucking like me.”)

flip fuck? by @gallawitchxx (Mickey’s always thought that Valentine’s Day was fucking gay. But then some dramatic, ginger fuckhead had to move into the room next to his, and steal his hole, his heart, and the attention of his tumblr mutuals. Mickey decides to keep it lowkey when he asks Ian to spend the evening together: You wanna hang out on Tuesday? Ian’s response is quick and gives absolutely nothing away: Sure thing! That big-dicked idiot better remember it’s fucking Valentine’s Day.)

completed:

prelude motel by @whatthebodygraspsnot (When Mickey’s secret spot is infiltrated by an intriguing stranger, all the warning signs are there. Despite the voice in the back of his head telling him to disengage, he can’t help but bite off more than he can chew, running straight back to the spot and the stranger when a job leaves him injured. Enter: the Prelude Motel - where, for the next three days, Mickey finds himself hiding from more than just his pursuers.)

garden song (series) by @gardenerian (two gorgeous fics about ian's bipolar, about hope, healing, and tomatoes)

better by anomalously (It's been ten years since Ian's seen Mickey.)

in your love by @sgtmickeyslaughter (Mickey had been out of prison for 2 years and Ian never would have known until they ran into one another on a random night in May. Ian fights for the love they shared while Mickey fights for the life he built, as they both struggle with shame and guilt from their shared past it becomes clear that they cannot help but be drawn to what is bright and beautiful between them.)

whumptober 2023 (series) by @sam-loves-seb (21 beautiful fics of angst & hurt/comfort)

out of nowhere by @suzy-queued (Ian should have never offered to hide his father's stash of gold. Now he's stuck living on a deserted piece of land in the woods, alone, losing his sanity. Mickey wants nothing more than to disappear — from prison, from his family, from the entire world. If only he knew where to get his hands on a cool million. The Gallagher gold. Mickey wants it. Ian will do anything to protect it. Who will cave first?)

all these things i have left to say to you by @crestfallercanyon (After all this time that Ian's been missing, he leaves a tape recorder on Mickey's pillow. And on it? An hour of pure, unfiltered, Ian audio that is all, apparently, dedicated to him.)

wips:

keys to my heart by @milkovichrules (Ian finds his stable college life getting difficult when a new neighbour moves into the dorms.)

intro to quantum dating by @spoonfulstar (another college au) (one of my fave fics of all time!!)

the ink is a witness to this by @palepinkgoat (six chapters about the stories tattoos can hold and hide.)

order up by @heymacy (Ian and Mickey work together at a Chicago diner. They like to push each other's buttons - all their buttons. How long until the dam finally breaks?)

second chapters by @squidyyy23 (When Mickey’s PO assigns him a job at the local library, he’s pleasantly surprised—not that he’d ever admit it. Practically lived in the prison library, and what better way to start his new life than with a career he might actually enjoy. And when he meets the charming, clever, utterly fuckable, redheaded children’s librarian, well, shit just keeps getting better and better. Mickey’s definitely not interested in anything serious right now, but what’s the harm in a little fun?)

electric blue by @goodkwuestion (Paramedic Ian Gallagher knows true love exists. He's not going to settle until he finds it either, no matter how much his friends and family roll their eyes at him. Mickey Milkovich, on the other hand, isn't sure about all that stuff. He's an engineer with a long to-do list, and chasing rainbows isn't on it. He'll never say no to a good time and a pretty face though. When they meet, it will feel like kismet, something inevitable that neither of them can shake. Honestly though, who would want to? Falling in love can be the easiest thing in the world, especially when the whole universe is rooting for you... That's if the whole universe is rooting for you.)

ficlets:

all of @heymrspatel's drabbles, especially this one of ian being self-conscious about his body

docks scene & birthday suit gardening ficlets by @metalheadmickey

all of @lupeloto's sweet & domestic ficlets

@sam-loves-seb's meta about ian being the moon and mickey being the sun

ian's birthday ficlet & 31 ways we never meet (a.u.gust 2023 ficlets) by @callivich

airport confessions by @dynamic-power

gallavich drabbles by @whatthebodygraspsnot

all of @howlinchickhowl's a.u.gust 2023 ficlets!

(if you made it this far, i also write fics occasionally too so here's a self-promo lol)

[ladykakata]

i love your shameless thoughts so much! i think a lot of shameless fans do a lot of projecting when it comes to mickey and seem to think he’s ian’s doormat when he clearly isn’t, he just a well informed partner who understands and accepts how his bf/husband’s mental illness unavoidably affects his behavior sometimes. it’s just like how ian can see that, what might look like a tantrum to most, is mickey being overwhelmed and unable to process certain things and lashing out in the process. getting hurt by each other is sometimes inevitable, but for the most part throughout the series they don’t fully take it to heart because they’re accepting of one another. its sad that some fans will ignore the complexity of that in favour of villainising/victimising and defaulting to ableism.

PRECISELY. You've hit the bullseye there; Mickey comes to learn that certain actions might be Ian's brain lashing out, but Ian does precisely the same with Mickey. Mickey is pretty notoriously (and hilariously, let's be honest) short-tempered and hyper-defensive, to the point where pretty much anything will result in a machine-gun torrent of abuse aimed at someone. There's a known tell with him rubbing his eyebrow if he's SEVERELY tested and ready to lash out physically, and that's true as well.

A good example of this is when Ian was mystified by Mickey's behaviour with regards to the West Side. Mickey is clearly struggling, again he verbally lashes out and he did the same at the party when asked what his drink of choice was. Ian in that scene just smiles and shakes his head, knowing Mickey is rough around the edges and awkward, but he certainly doesn't upbraid him for his lack of etiquette. Trying to get Mickey to admit to anything emotional is difficult, and Ian knows he has to carefully tease that information out without setting Mickey off on a rant or him shutting down (the latter more likely). He did so beautifully when trying to figure out why Mickey didn't want the nice apartment on the West side, and Mickey finally admitted that it makes him deeply uncomfortable. Having gotten the answer, Ian accepts that, and de-escalates the situation by calmly agreeing, despite Mickey being suspicious about him not arguing. Eventually, after some back and forth, Mickey agrees to move and Ian lets him have his caveats, ending the exchange by reaffirming that Ian loves Mickey's rough side ("You're such a fucking barbarian" "Thank you <3"). Mickey is so socially awkward for someone full of bluff and bluster and I REALLY want to cover that in a post.

I'm on anti-depressants, and a side effect of making my emotions even and focusing my brain without it having a meltdown every two minutes with emotions, it also makes you a little emotionally numb. It can make you look very calm and collected, which is also a bonus in certain circumstances, but also can come across as cold or uncaring in the wrong circumstances. When Mickey was trying to process his father's death, Ian was borderline confused about his upset, which again can come across as very cold, but being someone under the influence of anti-depressants, I do wonder if the writers were taking that into consideration, as well as Ian's deep loathing for Terry and not quite getting how upset Mickey would be over the death. I think he eventually will realise it's not so much the fact he's died, it's the lost potential for them to reconcile and be a proper father-and-son. Mickey had a glimpse of it, and it's heartbreaking to see.

In my opinion, the deleted scene where Mickey questions Ian's mood and expresses concern should have been kept in. Ian has done it for Mickey, and it's so soft and gentle the way he probes into how Ian is feeling without, again, making Ian shut down or push him away. Plus, it had Mickey referring to Ian out loud as his husband, and we all need more of that <3

[sequinsmile-x]

Benediction

A half-asleep Jack calls Emily 'Mom', and it leads to a long overdue conversation between her and Aaron.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is for the lovely @astridncs who asked for a fic where Jack calls Emily 'mom' and she and Aaron talk about it afterwards.

I really hope you enjoy this <3

-x-

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily groans as she shifts on the couch, her hand pressed against her bump as she tries to get comfortable, an annoyed hiss escaping her as she fails to do so. 

“You okay over there, Bella?”

She narrows her eyes at Dave as she tries to move again. She feels a familiar pair of hands on her back and looks up at Aaron, flashing him a grateful smile as he adjusts the cushion behind her, ensuring it supports the part of her back he knows hurts the most. 

Before she got pregnant, back when the idea of having a baby with the love of her life felt like nothing more than treacherous hope, she knew he’d be overprotective. That he’d use his knowledge of her to anticipate what she needed often before she even knew. She’d always assumed that it would annoy her, that the slightly over the top care would feel like coddling, but she’d found herself loving it. She’d even seek it out, happy for the first time in her life to let someone look after her - sinking into the safety and comfort that her husband gave her at every turn.

She’d joked to JJ recently that she was sure it was the baby. That the little girl growing in her belly already knew she had her father wrapped around her tiny little finger and was somehow influencing Emily to enjoy it too. 

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling tightly at the team scattered around Dave’s living room, “I’m the size of a house and might never be comfortable again,” she complains, her lips twitching in a smile when she sees varying degrees of amusement cross her friends faces, “But I’m fine.”

“Do you want to go home, sweetheart?” Aaron asks and she looks up at him, shaking her head as he kisses her hairline.

“It’s okay,” she replies, her smile getting wider when she hears Jack and Henry playing in the next room, their laughter warming her from the inside out, “It’s not like our couch is any better for my back,” she smiles as Jack’s laugh gets louder, “Besides, the boys are having fun.” 

“As long as you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure,” she smiles and nods, cupping his cheek as she drags him into a kiss, making a point of kissing him again when she hears Dave and Derek playfully groan. She rolls her eyes as she pulls back and rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder, “I am allowed to kiss him you know, he is my husband,” her lips curl into a smile and Aaron knows exactly what she’s going to say before she says it, shaking his head lovingly at her before she even starts to speak, “In fact we do more than kissing,” she says, pressing her hand on her bump, “How do you think-”

“That’s enough, Em,” Derek says playfully, cutting over her, shaking his head, “There are kids around.” 

She rolls her eyes again, “Jack and Henry are next door they can’t hear us.”

“I was talking about Reid,” he deadpans, making them all laugh as Spencer scoffs, shaking his head as he mutters that he knew what sex was. 

The evening passes by quickly as it often did, and it was moments like this she’d reflect on how different her life looked these days. Just a few years ago she couldn’t imagine still being here, the idea of feeling safe and happy again in the place she’d called home before Ian had torn through her life almost laughable. But then Aaron happened. Sweet, kind, right in front of her this whole time Aaron. He’d helped her help herself. He’d encouraged and pushed her when she needed it and left her alone when she needed that too, slowly but surely ensuring she found the happy, achingly ordinary, ending she would have once thought was beyond her. 

She smiles at the feeling of her baby shifting in her stomach and she rubs a soothing circle over her shirt. Aaron squeezes her shoulder and she looks up at him, the soft smile on his face his way of checking in with her and she knows all she’d have to do is nod and he’d take her home no questions asked. 

She’s about to do just that, the aching in her back and the exhaustion that came with being 7 months pregnant getting to her, when she’s interrupted by a small hand on her knee.

“Aunt Emily?” Henry says, his smile wide as she looks at him. 

“Yes, honey,” she replies, reaching out and running her fingers through his hair, “Is everything okay?” 

“Jack fell asleep.”

Emily feels Aaron’s chuckle more than she hears it, the vibration of it passing from his chest to hers as he kisses the side of her head before he stands up.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says and he winks at Henry, “Thanks, Henry.” 

“You’re welcome, Uncle Hotch.” 

Aaron sighs as Dave and Derek both chuckle, their mission to make the young boy call him Uncle Hotch successful despite his attempts to assure the young boy he could call him Aaron. Henry runs towards an equally amused JJ and Will and settles in between his parents, and he knows it won’t be long until he is asleep too. 

“You’re going to have to help me up, honey,” Emily grumbles, taking the hand he already has offered out to her, “I don’t think I’m too far off needing an industrial hoist.” 

He stamps a kiss on her cheek, “You’re beautiful,” he says as he squeezes her hand. He looks at the rest of the team and waves, “See you all Monday. Unless we get a case.” 

“I’ll make sure we don’t,” Penelope says, sipping her wine as she winks and Aaron raises his eyebrow at her, choosing not to comment as they all exchange goodbyes and he and Emily walk the short distance to the room Jack had fallen asleep in. 

They both smile at the sight of him curled up on the couch, toys that Dave had specifically bought for when he and Henry came over scattered around the room. Emily walks over and sits on the arm of the couch and runs her fingers through his hair.

“Jack? Honey, it’s time to go home,” she says quietly as he groans, burrowing his face briefly into the cushion beneath his head before he opens his eyes and looks up at her. “Can you carry me, Mommy?” He mutters, his words slurring in a way that lets her know he’s not entirely awake, but it makes her freeze, her breath catching in her chest as her cheeks immediately feel red hot. 

She could count on one hand the number of times he’d called her mom or some variety of it. It was rare, usually only slipping past his lips when he was sleepy like tonight or sick. Mama whimpered against her neck as she tried to help him through a fever. 

Initially, she’d struggled with her place in Jack’s life. She loved him, she had done since long before she and Aaron got together - her love and affection for the little boy easier to name than it had been for his father at first. Sometimes she worried that she loved Jack too much, that she was edging into taking a place in his life that hadn’t been made for her, a gap left behind by his mother that could never be filled. As her relationship with Aaron, and Jack by association, grew her worries did too. Blooming and taking up space in her chest as her love for the little boy she loved as her own would make her ache. 

Now that she was only a couple of months away from having the baby, she was thinking about it more than ever. She never wanted Jack to feel like she loved the little girl currently doing somersaults in her belly more than she loved him. She knew that was impossible, that she couldn’t love Jack anymore if she’d carried him herself, but she knew they had to talk to him about it again in more detail now their family was so close to growing. 

Aaron reacts first. He walks across the room and squeezes her shoulder first, his expression soft and reassuring as she looks up at him, a flash in his eyes that tells her later. And he picks Jack up, lifting him into his arms like he weighs nothing.

“She can’t buddy because of the baby,” he says as Jack wraps his arms around his neck, “But I’ll carry you to the car.” 

Jack hums, seemingly satisfied with that and he rests his head on his father’s shoulder, “Ice cream when we get home?” 

The question makes them both laugh, snapping Emily out of whatever remained of the trance she’d fallen into, and she stands before she reaches over and moves his hair out of his face to kiss his forehead. 

“Of course,” she replies, even though they all know he’ll be asleep again before they pull out of Dave’s driveway. She smiles at her husband and blows out a steady breath, “Let’s go home.”

___

Aaron pulls Jack’s bedroom door shut behind him, taking care to do it as slowly and as quietly as possible so his son stays asleep. He smiles as he hears his wife moving around downstairs, the familiar sound of the pantry door opening, the squeak he could never quite fix, echoing up towards him. 

He’d seen the look on her face when Jack called her ‘mommy.’ It was the same fleeting expression she’d had every time it happened, joy immediately chased away by guilt. A reddening of her cheeks that inevitably came when she didn’t know how to feel, as if she was embarrassed that she couldn’t name the emotion.  

They’d talked about it before. She’d always been so careful to not overstep, especially at first, but it made him ache that she still worried about it. That there was any part of her that doubted her place in Jack’s life. 

He smiles as he steps into the kitchen and he gives himself a moment to watch her, his smile getting wider as she pours candy into a bowl, a delighted look on her face as she sneaks a piece to eat immediately. 

“I could have made you a snack if you wanted me to, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when she looks up at him like she’d been caught out, “I would have even left out the fruit I usually force on you.” 

She hums as she places the bowl down on the counter, “My hero.” 

He walks over and kisses her, his hand automatically drawn to her back, rubbing circles where he knew she felt the most pain, her groan of satisfaction against his lips confirming he’d found the right spot. 

“Go sit down sweetheart,” he says, stamping his lips against hers again, “I’ll make you a hot chocolate and bring it and your snack to you.” 

She kisses him, taking a moment to nip his lower lip before she pulls back, “You are very close to earning yourself a date with me and my mountain of pillows on our bed.”

He chuckles as he tucks some hair behind her ear, “We’ll see how you feel later.” 

He watches as she walks towards the living room, her hand on her bump as she goes, whispering a conversation to the baby in French. Something just for the two of them that he knows will continue once their daughter is born. The thought of it makes him giddy, happiness sparking in his gut as he thinks of his wife and their little girl, who he’s sure will be a mini version of her, talking to each other in French with matching smiles on their faces as he and Jack didn’t understand a word they were saying. 

By the time he’s walking into the living room, hot chocolate and snack in hand, she’s turned on the TV. The sound is low, something she still did on instinct from when they lived in his old apartment together so she didn’t wake Jack up down the hall. It was unnecessary now that Jack’s room was upstairs, but she still did it anyway. One of the many subtle, but important, ways she loved his son. 

“Here you go.” 

She smiles as she takes the mug from him, the warmth of it between her palms making her sigh contentedly, “Thanks, honey.” 

“Anytime, you know that,” he assures her as he sits down next to her, watching her carefully as she sips her drink and moans in delight. She narrows her eyes as their eyes meet and she notices him staring.

“What?”

For a moment, he considers not saying anything, letting the moment at Dave’s pass them by. He decides to say something, not wanting her to spend any more time doubting her place in his son's life. 

In their son’s life.

“It doesn’t bother me, you know.” 

She frowns, her eyebrows knitting together, “What do you mean?” 

“When Jack calls you Mom,” he says carefully, not missing how her grip on her mug tightens as her eyes go slightly wide. 

Her breath catches in her chest and she licks her lower lip as she tries to figure out how to respond, her lungs stuffed full of all the anxiety she’d felt earlier, “Aaron…I…”

“I know you worry about it,” he says, taking the mug from her hands and placing it down before he links his fingers through hers, “But you shouldn’t,” he smiles as he lifts their joint hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles, “You are his mom. Haley is too,” he kisses her knuckles again as tears start to shine in her eyes, her lips pressing together in an attempt to stop them from shaking, “And that will be true whether he calls you Emily or starts to call you Mom more often,” he reaches out and wipes a tear from her cheek, smiling when she leans into his palm, “I think it’s important that you know that. You are his Mom.” 

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as she leans forward, his repeated declaration, something she hadn’t even known she’d needed to hear, still hanging in the air around them. She sinks into his embrace and wraps her arms around him, taking a second to breathe him in. 

“I love him so much,” she says, sniffing as she pulls back.

“I know you do, Em. He does too.” 

She laughs through her tears and shakes her head at herself, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says, wiping more tears from her cheeks, “I can’t stop crying.” 

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he says, kissing her cheek and then her forehead, “You’re pregnant with our little girl,” he smiles as he pulls back, “And you’re the best mom our kids could ask for.” 

She presses her lips together in a failed attempt to suppress her smile, love for him, for the family they were building, threatening to overwhelm her. She cups his cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss, resting her forehead against his as she pulls away.

“Oh, you are so getting lucky tonight,” she says, kissing him again, the action lost to their wide smiles. 

He pulls back just enough to wink at her, “I am always lucky when I’m with you.” 

-x-

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[wrinkly-fucking-qtip]

“...to love and to cherish you...

...til' death do us part...”

The flicker of the eyes gets to me. He had been maintaining eye contact with Ian all this time, until the mention of the word death, like the sound of the word alone is enough of a threat that he needs to deflect to find comfort...

So many times this man thought his life might've ended because of the consequences of being with that other man before him... The one looking back at him during their vows...

That unfortunate situation could've happened before those vows could EVER even BE a reality... And it kills me. These vows were as real as they could ever get. I'm glad the show did not make them write their own vows... because as traditional as they may sound, not only is this what he wanted, it just makes it more real... I don't know how to explain.

They don't need fancy prophecies of their love, adorned words to be spoken in front of everyone. They don't need them to know how arduous it was for them to be together through personalized vows.

This is all they needed... and this is why it's so much more emotional. It's not death itself that scares him, dying... passing... Hell, he most likely believed for it to be the best way to go at low points.

It's the fact that it's capable of robbing him of the best thing that ever happened to him, his person, his husband. His lover. His best friend. His soulmate.

Ugh... Noel, I thank you forever for making Mickey who he is. Noel, the man that you are.

[lupeloto]

“we, huh?” ficlet

i have another ficlet that i whipped up and made me jsksndjesj. i hope u guys enjoy it, i’m a little rusty so proceed with caution

Ian lays facing away from the door, comforter billowed around his bare chest, draped lazily across his arm. His head is buzzing, his thoughts shooting around a mile-a-minute yet he can’t seem to actually process a single one. He shuts his eyes tight, trying desperately to breathe through it. He’s been off for a few weeks now, under the false assumption that he narrowly escaped Mickey’s concern until he drops a small “you got an appointment tomorrow to get your meds fixed.” Initially, a rage filled him, sending a rush through his entire body and resulting in some snippy comment about how he can handle his own shit. Mickey didn’t react, just walked to where Ian sat, placed a quick peck on the top of his head and walked out of the room. After several hours of misery in company with his own thoughts, the anger was eventually replaced with a lingering guilty. It was a guilt he felt slightly too proud to admit, resulting in their conversations being limited for the rest of the day.

Mickey shuffles in, plopping down next to Ian in bed.

“Ay,” he finally settles, “i shouldnt’ve gone behind your back,” he fidgets, his head shifting down before Ian cuts him off.

Ian shuts his eyes, breathing through the initial anger that rose, landing on the understanding that it was all in his best interest. “It’s okay,” Ian turns to face him, head resting against his forearm, the former jumbled mess that was his mind now completely clear as his eyes catch sight of the gentle blue ones that stare back at him.

Mickey mirrors him, his head resting on his forearm as his hair sits in a messy black tuft against the pillow. “It’s gonna be alright, just gonna take a look at ya and make sure we get everything figured out.” His hands move to lightly trace Ian’s shoulder, going over every freckle and scar with a delicacy that only Ian knew.

Ian stares back for a moment, eyes fixated on the flutter of Mickey’s lashes as he spoke. Fuck, he loved this man.

“We, huh?” Ian scoots closer, the corners of his lips turn up slightly at the light red that flushes Mickey’s cheeks.

Mickey brushes it off, shifting onto his back mumbling a quick, “It’s you and me, Red.”

Ian smiles to himself, gaze fixed on the sight of his husband’s porcelain skin painted in a light dusting of freckles and a few scars that Ian traces delicately with his fingers, followed by a gentle peck. The curve of his nose, his lips, his lashes. He is nothing short of mesmerized.

“You must love me a whole lot then, huh ya softie?” Ian teases

Mickey lifts his arm behind his head and shutting his eyes, “like it’s breathing, Gallagher,” he huffs casually. He nods his head, gesturing for Ian to come closer.

Ian’s heart beats out of his chest threatening to land promptly before him on the bed as he stifles a small laugh. He’s never short of amused and enthralled by his husband’s ability to say the most romantic things in the most nonchalant nature. Mickey knows it makes Ian bashful and giddy like a teenage girl so of course he slips one in whenever he can.

He feels Ian’s eyes burning a hole in him, “And I don’t wanna hear shit about it, we all know you’re the soft one,” he cuts his eyes over, “now would you get your ass over here i’m fuckin’ exhausted.”

Ian happily complies, shifting to lay his head against Mickey’s chest. His large, freckles hand reaches to grab Mickey’s, nearly completely engulfing it as he rubs small, soothing circles with his thumb while his other hand mimicks on his stomach. Mickey digs his face deep into the tuft of curls, inhaling slightly and placing a small kiss on his head as both drift slowly to sleep.

[ange1sang]

sweetface, angelface

2.2k words

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic fluff, sibling love, gallavich, fiona and ian + fiona and mickey, past regrets, mild hurt/comfort but mostly just sweet

Ian and Mickey's West Side apartment is silent when Fiona lets herself in with the spare key she borrowed from Lip. The quiet is thick in a way that it never was back in the Gallagher house - quiet always meant something terrible had happened, and rarely lasted more than a minute or two in their neighbourhood - and Fiona has to pause to take it in with a deep breath.

Lip had warned her that her visit was poorly timed. Ian had been climbing up the mental steps towards another high which had resulted in a quick and easy adjustment of his medication, and while Ian was resilient and experienced after so many years of learning the ins and outs of being bipolar, it had still left him sleepy and distant as his brain got used to the change in chemicals. He'd been off work for half a week - a long time for someone finding their footing in the real world - and Mickey had taken the past couple of days off to take care of his husband, something that had taken Fiona back to Ian's first depressive episode as soon as Lip had told her. Mickey's determination to take care of Ian, his hardheaded love for her little brother, and the fear in his eyes as he rambled about the sudden shift in Ian's behaviour.

She'd been less than supportive back then, knowing that Ian needed real treatment more than he needed love in that moment, but hearing now how Mickey's determination has persisted for years longer than they'd ever expected had made her heart ache.

Ian had always been her baby. Since that first night Frank left her and her only siblings at the time out on the street and she'd carried a feverish Ian and teary Lip to the clinic he'd been her baby. Lip was the second oldest, a role that came with signifcantly less responsibility but still enough of it for him to be her rock through those first few years of playing house all by herself. But for the years before Debbie was born Ian had been the youngest, the one who needed the most care, and even after their other siblings were born and Ian became Lip's best friend instead of just his little brother, the need to take care of him had lingered for Fiona.

It didn't help that Ian was so sweet and kind, always wearing his heart on his sleeve in a way that Fiona and Lip never did. He was vulnerable, and even when he kept his aches and pains to himself it was obvious when he was hurt. She wanted, always had wanted, to shelter him from as much as she could, even when she had too much on her plate to know his whereabouts or the names of kids bothering him at school.

Despite the desire to keep him safe, Fiona knew that he had slipped through the cracks more often than his siblings had. Maybe it was the sweet smile he gave her when she asked if he was alright, maybe it was the resilience that shone through when he started navigating his sexuality by himself, maybe it was his dreams of the army and the tough guy exterior he put on whenever he talked about West Point. Whatever the reason, he'd been left behind when she fussed over Lip being in school, when Debbie got pregnant, when Carl came back from juvie. He was the apple of her eye, but he was so meek sometimes that it was easy to focus on the rest of the kids and what they needed from her.

She knows now that she could've done more. That she should've been glad Ian was with Mickey instead of some guy who was old enough to be his father, who there'd been far too many of without any of them stopping to question what the hell those men were doing with their brother. She should have fought to bring him home when he ran off to the army the same way she fought to bring Lip home after he dropped out, and she should've done more than turn a blind eye when he started working at clubs and came home skinny, high out of his mind with eyeliner still smeared around his lashline. She should've carried him to safety, the same way she did that night when it was just the three of them alone in the world for the first time. There was no way she could have done a perfect job at raising all five of the kids - she knows that too - but her heart aches when she thinks of the times Ian slipped through all of their fingers without a safety net to catch him.

She owes Ian, forever her little brother and the only sibling she calls 'sweetface', for not trying to understand him better. For not trying harder to love the only boyfriend who had been there through the first highs and lows without ever turning his back on him. Ian did okay even without those things, she can see as much as she looks around the little apartment. The family photos in frames on the TV stand, the taupe couch with only one stain, the coffeetable with a half-full ashtray she recognises from their old home. He did okay because, despite being a softer kid than any of them had the courage to be, he was strong. She smiles when she spots a wedding picture hung above the TV, Ian and Mickey holding each other's faces like the rest of the world had fallen away at that moment. She wishes she'd been there, will likely wish as much for the rest of her life, but she's here now and has to hope that's enough.

The clattering of dishes pulls her out of her thoughts. She can hear coffee being put to brew, the soft shuffle of socked feet coming from the kitchen. She blinks back the dull ache in her chest and makes her way to the source of the noise, smiling when she sees Mickey leaning against the counter, an unlit cigarette between his lips as he puts two Pop-Tarts in the toaster. He startles at her presence but smiles as soon as he sees her.

"Hey Fi," he greets, setting aside his cigarette and allowing her to hug him hello without a struggle, which is a win for Fiona even if he doesn't really return the touch. He's softer in their new environment she realises, more relaxed than he ever was when he was in the same neighbourhood as his family. She pulls back and gives his arm a squeeze, smiling warmly at the sight of the wedding ring on his finger.

"Hi angelface," she says. Mickey immediately turns to the doorway, looking for something before he freezes and turns his attention back to Fiona, brows drawn tight together as he looks her up and down.

"Thought you were talking to Ian," he mumbles, pulling away from her touch as though to get a better look at her. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

Fiona can't help but laugh, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs at their kitchen table.

"Ian's always been sweetface," she says, watching how Mickey's expression softens as she says that. "I was thinkin' the whole way over that you ought to have a nickname too."

"Y'know, I was doin' fine without one," Mickey grumbles, but the furrow between his brows has disappeared, a half-amused smirk on his lips.

"Count yourself lucky you didn't get one the day he started lookin' at you like you hung the moon and fucking stars," she jokes, which makes him snicker. She thinks back to the days Ian and Mickey were just teenagers wrapped around each other's little fingers, smiling little smiles that they only shared with each other and falling asleep side by side in whatever cramped space was available to them, be it Ian's childhood bed or the worn and torn Gallagher couch. Mickey had been the farthest thing from an angel at the time and he's still pretty far off, but if she could go back she'd have started calling him angelface the second he proved he was in it for the long haul. She takes a deep breath and perches on the edge of the table. "How's he been?"

"Good," Mickey says quickly, not dismissively but confidently, his blue eyes fond as he glances towards the doorway again. "Sleepin' a lot but he's eating and keeping up a routine and all that shit. He"– Mickey hesitates here, eyes darting back and forth between Fiona's face and the floor as a flush climbs his cheeks. –"works real fuckin' hard, y'know? He doesn't want anyone to worry, not like when we were kids. He knows his shit and he fuckin'... He works hard."

Fiona smiles. She does know. Ian's never been half-hearted in anything he cares about, and hearing that he cares about taking care of himself soothes some of the worry that's always going to nag at her, wondering if he's got his head above water.

"Helps that he's got you," she says, giving Mickey some of the long overdue credit she never let him have before. Mickey rolls his eyes and his fingers twitch like he's going to flip her off but ultimately he just pulls out three mugs to pour coffee into. She smiles, recalling how he was with Mandy, bickering and cussing back and forth but always reserving a special kind of sweetness for each other that they didn't share with anyone else in their family. Fiona knows better than anyone that siblings can't be replaced, but him offering her a little of the friendliness he used to reserve for his little sister makes her happy.

"Fi."

Ian's voice, slow and rough with sleep, breaks the comfortable silence in the kitchen. Fiona jumps up and launches herself at her little brother in a tight hug, smiling into his shoulder when he wraps his arms around her.

"I didn't know you were coming over," he mumbles, tucking his face down into her shoulder the same way he used to do back when they were the same height. He has to bend his neck down to do it now, making himself smaller as she brings a hand up to run her fingers through his curls.

"Lip called after you went to sleep, didn't wanna wake you," Mickey explains, voice soft.

Fiona grins as she pulls away from him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Hey, sweetface," she murmurs, pinching his cheek and pulling a whine from Ian. "Forgot how tall you are."

"You were gone for too long," he replies, but there's no hard feelings in his voice. She still thinks about the day she left, visiting him in prison and squeezing his hands tight so she wouldn't forget the warmth of his palms once she let go. His smile, supportive and sad and excited all at once had reflected all of her own feelings and tied her stomach in knots but also grounded her, reminding her that her family would always be here for her to come home to. She kisses his cheek again even though this too makes him whine before finally letting him go.

"Now that you got your own place I'll visit more often," she reassures him. Through the bleary, sleepy expression on his face Ian smiles.

"You better," he jokes, before stepping over to kiss Mickey's cheek. She watches them exchange gentle 'good morning's, Mickey's hand trailing up and down Ian's spine in a way that's so casual, so clearly the norm for them, that she has to look away before she gets teary-eyed.

They sit around the kitchen table, coffee mugs and Pop-Tarts and pills and cigarettes all carefully laid out in front of them. Seeing them go about their lives with her there, mumbling about bills and what they dreamt last night and whether or not the movie they've been wanting to watch will be easy to pirate, is the best gift she's ever received. Lip has his own family, Carl has a great job, Debbie is a better mother than Monica ever dreamed of being, Liam is cleverer than any of them and Ian is doing well. Better than well, even after everything he's been through, after being let down in ways Fiona will never be able to forget. They all did good with what they were given, but it's Ian's life - cozy and safe and domestic - that makes her happiest.

"You're never gonna guess what she fuckin' called me, man," Mickey says suddenly, drawing Fiona's attention back to the present. Ian raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to his big sister, already smiling before she says anything.

"You're sweetface, only makes sense if he's angelface," she defends the sappy nickname, giggling when Ian laughs out loud. Mickey is only slightly less amused, blushing when Ian reaches out to hold his hand.

"Makes sense to me, Mick," he says, which has his husband rolling his eyes.

"Course you'd side with her, fuckin' payback for me siding with Debbie one time, huh?" he mutters, which brings forth another round of teasing from Ian. Fiona listens to them and makes a mental note to ask about Mickey and Debbie later. For now she just steeps in the peace of their apartment, of the life they've carved out for themselves, and breathes a sigh of relief.

[mydaddywiki]

Ian Blackford

Physique: Husky Build Height: 5′ 8″ (1.73 m)

Ian Blackford (born 14 May 1961-) is a Scottish politician who served as Leader of the Scottish National Party (SNP) in the House of Commons from 2017 to 2022. He has been the Member of Parliament (MP) for Ross, Skye and Lochaber since 2015. Originally from Edinburgh, he previously worked as an investment banker and has been involved in various business ventures since. He was the national treasurer of the SNP from 1999 to 2000.

There's just something about this guy that has me excusing myself to go to the bathroom for a quick release. Obviously, the English accent is a big factor as well as his chubby frame. But I think what got me most of all was Blackford in a kilt. What? I love a man in a kilt.

Oh snap. Recently, he ‘dumped’ his wife after almost 24 years together just weeks after the pair returned from a trip to France, where they were hoping to buy a holiday home. He spent £300 from their joint bank account on sexy lingerie and jewelry for his new girlfriend who he stole from her husband. Now that's straight pimpin. And I love that. What? Everyone loves a bad boy.

[gardenerian]

What is Ian planning on cooking for mickey for his birthday in a few days?

omg okay, i think it's an all-day extravaganza. ian will be makin treats for his husband all day long babeeyyyy!

breakfast: banana pancakes (one of my favorite fanon details), bacon, strawberries that he will feed to mickey as he leans across the table 😇 and ofc coffee ☕️ and probably some juice that mickey gets to drink right from the carton as he deserves on his big day

lunch: whatever the birthday boy wants while they're out and about. maybe a couple of slices, maybe a chicago dog or two??? probably an ice cream cone from the truck ian drags them to 🍦 (plus a lunchtime beer, which is, once again, as he deserves on his Big Day)

dinner: we're grillin! ian will absolutely wear the stupidest apron mickey has ever seen, but joke is on mickey bc later he'll wear it with absolutely nothing else and mickey will find it strangely hot?? ian will slice up one of his tomatoes to go with mickey's bigass birthday burger 🍅🥰 plus, ofc, more birthday beers + the most ridiculous topsy turvy many-layer cake that ian and franny make together 🎂 our bday boy will always be loved up and well fed! it is law!!!

his actual dessert is [REDACTED] 😇