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This week's @galladrabbles prompt is from @ohkate. Who's surprised that I went AU?

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Hours are long, here at Ladies’ Fantasy magazine. Mickey zooms in and retouches a mole off a model’s perfect skin. 

This was not how he planned to use his art degree, mindlessly editing abs and biceps, sometimes a hint of pubes.

The dudes look buff, but they don’t do it for Mickey.

Except that one. 

That redhead. 

Mickey hates airbrushing away the freckles that are uniquely his. The scars. The tattoos.

But it’s the guy’s hands that leave Mickey breathless.

One afternoon, those very same hands tap the edge of Mickey’s desk. Holy fuck.

Thank you @ohkate for our @galladrabbles prompt this week! And what a good prompt it is ✨

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When he has Mickey laid out like this, he starts with that tattoo on his chest. 

He kisses every letter, every jagged scar. He still regrets that day, how he brushed off that act of love Mickey was so proud to show him.  

He trails kisses down to the tattoo on Mickey’s forearm. The one he got when they were apart. He lingers there.

Down further still, his mouth connects with those indents on Mickey’s perfect ass, the gunshot wounds that followed their very first kiss. 

He kisses each, one by one.

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“I miss you.”

The words fall from his mouth effortlessly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

He looks at you with those eyes that always fuck you up.

It’s easier to hide behind that glass and bark out a half-hearted threat, one you have no intention of ever following through with. So much easier than admitting to yourself that he ruins you just a little bit more every time he comes around.

And then he smiles like the goof he is. You try not to smile back.

What great timing you have @rayrayor. This @galladrabbles prompt ties in perfectly with the current Xenaverse-inspired AU I'm working on.

Thanks to @lupeloto for this prompt for @galladrabbles... Another new song to me, I enjoyed listening to it. Took me a bit longer to work out how to use it, and eventually I went with canon compliant (ish) again (I know, what's happened to me? 😆) set between season 3 and Ian's return in season 4.

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Ian huddled in the alley, refusing to acknowledge the bite of cold. When he looked up, he saw a figure he recognised.

It had been weeks, but he'd recognise that walk anywhere, the swagger of it. The confidence. The black hair was hidden under a hat, broad shoulders under a thick coat. But it was him. 

Ian raised a hand. He could wave. Call out. 

Instead the low winter sun caught the glint of a wedding band as Mickey lifted his hand to shade his eyes. 

Yuna notices something is wrong because of course she does and together with David they herd Shane into some private empty side room hoping it will help him calm down. But it doesn't. He wont stop shaking and his breathing is too fast and he flinches at their voices even tho nobody is speaking loudly. Won't let Yuna come close to hug him or rub his arm.

Maybe Yuna is starting to panic a little herself, her heart aching as she watches Shane wrap his own arms around himself, hates that she cant do anything when her son is so clearly in distress, hates that she can't seem to think of anything that will work-

When suddenly the door bangs open and Ilya Fucking Rozanov??? strides into the room with quick steps, makes a beeline directly for her son, eyes locked on him like he doesnt even register her and David in the room as well and Yuna opens her mouth to cuss him out, tell him to fuck off and not bother Shane right now, she can feel her body moving already to stand in front of Shane protectively when David grabs her arm because-

Because Rozanov is pulling Shane into his arms, one hand on the back of Shane's neck, guiding his head to press into the crook of Rozanov's neck and Shane isn't fighting it, doesn't flinch from his touch. He goes where Rozanov arranges him and let's himself be held and rocked back and forth gently as Rozanov presses his mouth to Shane's ear and starts whispering something so quietly that Yuna can't really make out the words but what she can see is Shane's shaking subsiding, hands fisting tightly into Rozanov's shirt, his breathing going slowly back to normal because - oh. oh - her son is syncing his breaths with Rozanov who, Yuna realises, is taking very exaggerated deep slow breaths of his own so Shane can match them. And then Rozanov turns slightly while still rocking them both back and forth and Yuna sees Shane's face where it's smushed into Rozanov's neck. Sees the look there.

And that's how Yuna realises her son is in love and the man - his years-long rival - he loves must have left in the middle of his award-winning show to come here and pull her son out of a panic attack like there was no place he'd rather be than right here with Yuna's overwhelmed panicked boy in his arms, soothing him until Shane's body relaxes completely into that hold, mumbling that he's fine yet not pulling away and Rozanov makes no move to let go either.

orders in poutine for dinner. it squeaks! decides he likes it.

hits the hotel gym to do bicep curls.

back to his room to shower. a fortifying cigarette.

half an hour in front of the mirror trying to decide between two nearly identical black tanks. eventually picks one. examines the arms. yeah, they're good.

can't go out into the hallway in his fuck-me shirt. carefully picks jacket to layer on top.

it's eight forty. debates merits of showing up early, but not worth the risk of spooking hollander. turns on the tv for fifteen minutes to practice his english, but everything on is stupid.

eight fifty-five. last look in the mirror. should he be wearing different underwear? he doesn't have time to change. whatever. it's fine.

an aspirational condom in his pocket. the elevator doors open with a soft ding. he probably shouldn't be half-hard in the hotel elevator.

FUCK, IT'S HOLLANDER'S MOTHER.

fuck, thank god, fuck, fuck. he is no longer half-hard in the hotel elevator. ilya's heart is pounding. he needs another cigarette.

He is Freaking Out bc he doesn't actually know what Ilya's phone number is. His SIM card got crushed underneath a pair skates, so there's no recovering "Lily's" contact card.

On top of that, his old Ottowa number won't transfer to his Montreal provider. So "Lily's" texts will now be delivered into the ether. Or to some random person's phone if his old Ottowa number gets given out again.

Ilya of course has literally no idea this has happened and is sending his usual flirtatious messages to...silence. No response. He's not even getting left on read. Because the messages aren't even getting read. He goes through the five stages of grief. Fuck Shane Hollander, he doesn't need this shit. They're supposed to play against each other Tomorrow for fucks sake. His resolve lasts for about....two hours? And then he's on social media. What's this fucking asshole up to that he can't even read Ilya's texts?

He pulls up the first interview, the one right after Buffalo. Shane looks....really stressed out. Which is confusing given that they've just won.

"Yes of course I am super happy to win. Unfortunately the locker room celebration did get a little out of hand though."

He holds up his mangled phone.

"So if you're trying to contact me, sorry about that!"

He's blushing and smiling and seems so flustered and embarrassed. He's looking at a camera, millions of people can hear him, but he's speaking directly to Ilya. Ilya's face breaks out into his "you have a stylist?" smile. He feels....a little embarrassed about his crashout, but also super fucking relieved. Ilya swipes through a couple more videos and watches the most recent interview.

"We are absolutely looking forward to facing off against the Raiders. Also I brought this up last time but, turns out I can't keep my old phone number. So if you're texting me and I'm not responding, it's because I can't!"

He laughs, but it seemd a bit forced. Like he might tear up if he gets pushed the wrong way. Ilya goes back and watches through all the interviews since the Buffalo game. Shane has found a way to bring up his broken phone in every single interview for the past two weeks. It's so sweet...and also a little heartbreaking. He knew exactly what was gonna happen, and was terrified of Ilya thinking that he didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want Ilya to feel alone and confused and upset. He's so fucking ernest and endearing.

RUINED ME

You have destroyed this ghost I had made real,

That I created with my own blood and bone,

Just like a wave against my shelter of sand,

You erased all my years of careful work,

All my meticulous layers of armor,

I want to hate this, hate you,

For the way you can see me, flawed and incomplete,

You make my shadows into a reality I must face,

A mirror I can't look away from,

Then you stay. You hold it all and you stay,

This is how you have altered my soul,

IVE LOST ANOTHER FIC…. HELP!!!!!

ILYA IS HIT AND GOES DOWN, PUT IN COMA TO HEAL

SHANE IS BESIDE HIMSELF

Thank you @galladrabbles for always being here for us!!

STOLEN

I only picked this shit hole for you,

I couldn't imagine you in here alone,

Fighting every day, afraid every night,

Or worse, being someone's bitch.

I'll protect you here, keep your heart safe,

Every moment in here with you is stolen,

Each blush on your cheeks,

Every sweet freckle on your body,

They all belong to me, I stole those too,

Mine.

Don't care who was with you when we were apart,

Now Im in the bunk nestled under you,

Your long arms holding me close,

I can smell you on me, its good, its home,