mickey milkovich i hope you are getting your ass squeezed and your hair played with several times a day every day forever

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@experiment0626
mickey milkovich i hope you are getting your ass squeezed and your hair played with several times a day every day forever
new chapter of iron bars!
chapter 7 of my prison gallvich era fic
Ian chuckles, lacking any humour. “I didn’t mean to lead him on, or whatever. I just- I know it sounds fucking selfish but I just wanted to be with him for a bit. I wanted time with him. We never really got that.”
He swallows, seeming to finish. He’s emotional, but he’s not crying.
Kim takes a moment, gathers herself. She’s heard this myriad of reasoning from Mickey over the phone, but it feels more real to hear Ian say it himself. Maybe Mickey does have stars in his eyes, but maybe his vision isn’t as blurred as hers has been in the past.
“I get it.” She says, soft. “I get why you didn’t go with him. I can- I can sort of understand why you didn’t visit.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I hope you enjoy!
Any support is greatly appreciated <3
(separation anxiety)
when ian gets home from his trip with lip, he expects mickey to be all up in his business because it's mickey and it's them and it's true, after a lifetime of fighting for it, when they're not glued at the hip, shit just feels off.
so he expects mickey to b-line it to the front door when he finally steps in. he expects the way he helps himself into ian's space, his hug literally and beautifully immediate. and he expects it to linger - wants it to, frankly. getting to hold his husband again after a week apart is damn near orgasmic. he's been counting down the hours for this very moment.
what he doesn't expect is for mickey to not let go.
Opening my messages and wishing I knew what to say, ever. I like you and I wanna talk to you pls I hope you still like me but you stopped replying and I don't wanna bother and and and
Yeah it's hard out there anyways I open the messages, do a lil existential crisis, close them
Thank u for following me, I offer u nothing
Don’t get me wrong, I love being alone, but fuck, I am lonely.
the urge to deactivate everything and go missing
"Hey."
Ian groaned, eyes closed. He was so, so comfortable. Maybe if he just ignored him...
Why had Ian been so dead set on marrying this bastard again?
"Hey, Ian."
Poke.
Motherfucker.
"Hey. Ian. Red. Firecrotch. Sugartits."
Poke poke poke poke-
"What?" Ian groaned, raising one heavy arm to swat at him. He had been dead asleep when Mickey had shaken him awake.
"C'mon," mickey said, "You have to see this."
Ian sighed, forcing his eyes open. He would've ignored him, really, but Mickey sounded so earnest, and they were three days into their ridiculously long awaited honeymoon to Mexico, so Ian was feeling particularly sappy.
When they'd gotten off parole, finally, three long years after leaving prison, Mickey had been the one to suggest they visit the little village he'd settled in. It was close enough to a big city for mickey to work, back when he lived here, but out of the way enough to hide from the feds and any cartel members that were looking for him. The little old lady who had rented mickey his apartment here was still kicking, by some miracle, and had spent the last three days gleefully whacking Mickey with a shoe every time he was in reach, yelling at him in Spanish.
("She actually really likes him," her son, Luca, who was apparently mickeys singular friend from his time here, had told Ian. "They only ever got along by yelling at eachother, but Mami thinks he's hilarious and was really worried when he disappeared off the face of the earth.")
Still, the last few days had been paradise -- the beach, meeting the members of the community who surprisingly thought mickey was amazing, the food -- and Ian was feeling sappy.
He heaved himself out of bed, sleepily letting Mickey lead him out of the small motel room and down to the beach.
"Okay," mickey whispered, "look up."
Ian did - and his breath caught in his throat.
There were so many stars.
"Were far enough from the city that the light pollution isn't so bad," Mickey explained, "I cried like a baby the first time I saw it."
Yeah, Ian thought he might cry too.
They spread out a blanket and sit there for a long while, just staring. It was gorgeous -- Ian almost thought he could see the milky way.
"It's beautiful," Ian said, "worth getting out of bed for."
"It always is," Mickey said, so tenderly that Ian didn't need to look to know his husband was looking at him, not the sky.
HE WAS LAUGHING EVEN AS WE KISSED AGAIN AND AGAIN.
“‘Cause nobody fucks with my boyfriend.”
Mickey makes an involuntary sound that’s so cute in its expression of surprise that Ian can’t help but pull him down to kiss his sweet, parted lips.
Chapter 12 of Cooperative Gameplay by Grayola on AO3 (@gallavichy)
the whole family has sunday night dinners and lip’s every week. but, eventually ian and mickey get their own little house and ian reallyyyy wants to host everyone a couple times a month. mickey is pretty indifferent and would prefer if the whole gallagher clan didnt invade his one space without them bUT he knows it would make ian happy so he complies. he’s annoyed by it at first, but once he sees ian getting all frantic before everyone arrives and the smile he wears the whole night as everyone is all together in his home…mickey suddenly thinks it’s the best idea ian’s ever had and wouldn’t mind it becoming a weekly thing
god I love being a lil fuckin weirdo in the comfort of my own house
"To be a father is to discover your own heart walking around outside your body, to guide and protect while allowing the space for another soul to grow." — John Eldredge
Good evening, which Mickey Milkovich are you today?
thinking about that scene from s11 where ian comes out of the shower in that orange towel to bitch at mickey about smth
i don’t even remember what they’re talking about it’s literally just 100% beef dad-bod ian do you know what i mean
And I'll use you as a makeshift gauge Of how much to give and how much to take I'll use you as a warning sign That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be Right in front of me Talk some sense to me(x)