#gallavichthings

Summary: If Mickey was a psychiatrist or scientist or whatever the fuck, he’d probably say it’s because all he heard growing up is what a piece of shit he is. Just name-calling and beatings. No love. No hope. No nothing. Maybe that’s why.

Or maybe it’s because he just fucking likes it.

Summary: Ian rides Mickey for the first time

Tags: Top Mickey, Bottom Ian, Established Relationship, First time, Riding

Words: 1,2k

Rating: E

This year, I have coffeehouse AU ( ok tea in this case) with boss/ employee and a ghost theme to boot.

High Tea.

Mickey thought he was scoring a new job with the help of his sister, feeding finger sandwiches to little old biddies.

He just needed a damn paycheck.

But he was wrong.

High tea wasn't all the blue-haired crowd.

It was chaos and granola hippie shit and a goddamn microdosed turtle.

He didn't expect to make it a week.

Didn't expect to embrace the weirdos that worked there, visited.

And he sure as fuck didn't expect someone like Ian Gallagher.

Maybe the weed and the redhead could make him stick around.

For good.

Written for AUgust

Using the coffee-well-tea-house theme and the random item on the wheel of ghosts.

And check out the official soundtrack in my head for this story : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2jjUxxnidl0GHcVBD82rzK?si=40YdxdotROyGUu3heIFjxQ&pi=srlHioYbRtGVt

@deathclassic oh my this art is chefs kiss

In the words of one half of my beloveds, “Sorry, I’m late.”

@gallavichthings

In the back office, dozens of tens and twenties danced before his eyes. Kevin counted his money and his blessings, as V. stood to the side and shook her head in disgust. Unperturbed, Kev reminded his wife that this money would go a long way towards paying their daughters’ private school tuition. When Veronica still gave him no reprieve, he added that what she was seeing was only what they’d taken in so far for food and drinks tonight, and that the actual main event, the real money-maker, was sold out and had been sold out for weeks.

To Kev’s utter delight, it seemed like most of The Alibi Room’s regular and not-so-regular patrons had bought tickets for the no-holds barred grudge match at 100 bucks a pop. With that added tidbit of information, V. pecked Kev on the cheek and informed him that she was going upstairs to get changed. She still wasn’t happy about any of it, but when the numbers started adding up like a motherfucker, she had to cut her husband some slack and jump on the bandwagon.

Kev had no idea how everybody’d been able to afford the ticket price, and he honestly didn’t care. He was just happy that they could afford it. His best guess was that people would just go to extremes to see other people beat the shit out of each other—budgets be damned. More likely than not, the history and mystery surrounding the fighters had added to the appeal and had kept people spending money they really didn’t have.

Story went that back in the day, the two fellas had a rough start after a misunderstanding, but they’d managed to sort it all out and had become close:  Hanging out at each other’s houses. Taking walks and palling around down at the dugouts back behind the high school. Chasing each other through alleys and abandoned buildings; passing cigarettes back and forth and sharing shot gunned beers as two teen-aged boys tend to do.

Maybe they were closer than a couple of guys on the Southside ought to be for their own good. And that particular brand of “closeness” was okay with some but definitely NOT okay with a whole Hell of a lot of others. Kev knew that the rumors were 100% true. There was a time when you couldn’t see one man without the other, when each one would have called the other not only their best friend, but their most important person in the world. Kev also knew that regardless of how close the two of them may have been once, there was bad blood between the two men now.

Just like in the very beginning, it had all started with a misunderstanding. Only this time, nobody but the two of them knew what had happened. The situation evolved into multiple verbal disagreements, and over time the animosity had grown so much that the two couldn’t be around each other without punches flying. V had almost banned them from the Alibi completely after one of their biggest brawls had ended with minor damage to the bar. However, Kevin had taken notice of how entertained the other patrons had been and his plan had been hatched, much to his wife’s utter dismay.

Little did V. know, but the REAL money to be made was on the bets. The pools had gotten to be so ridiculously high that Kev had to get help from the smartest person he knew: Lip. Tammi had even gotten in on the act as no paying customer felt it was fair for one of the fighters’ brothers to hold on to the money. But his baby mama having it was A-okay.

Both men agreed to steer clear of each other and instead work out all their anger in front of a crowd for a cut of the profits. With gas like that to fuel the fire, the bout was bound to be explosive. He was thankful, but Kev could still barely believe that the biggest fight of the century was gonna be taking place in the ring that he’d had built. But hey, he’d always heard that everything happened for a reason.

Kev and V had managed to reclaim their property back at a steal when the new owner had bailed and Southern life hadn’t agreed with the Fisher-Ball family after all. After having to come back to Chicago when their plans fizzed out, seeing the wall between the Alibi and what used to be space for Kev Fit knocked down was a shocking blow. But Kevin didn’t see any of it as the setback that V. did though.

It felt right to him to be coming back home to the Southside just as Fiona was, and now, Ian and Mickey were too. Nobody else had ever left, and Kev thought that if he concentrated really hard, he could even feel old Frank’s spirit slouching on his favorite bar stool, trying to figure out how to score a free drink while dead. And the wall? Kev would just see that as a sign that obstacles were being moved out of the way and that better things were waiting ahead for everybody. And, thanks to Kev and fate, Mickey and Ian were definitely gonna be close again tonight. What could be better than that?

A newly returned V shook her head and put her hands on her hips, drawing Kev out of his musings.

“If you insist on going through with this mess, I guess it’s time to get the show started,” V. huffed and turned to leave the back office.

“Wait!” Kev cried out, “Where the fuck are the rest of your clothes?!”

Veronica Fisher-Ball, former dominatrix and eternal beauty turned around to face her spouse. She was dressed, or rather barely dressed, head-to-toe in one of her baddest Dom costumes that had survived the Great Purge of the Southern Exodus: Her neck and torso were fully enwrapped in see-through red lace. Upon her arms were velvet red gloves adorned with little black roses. The black scrap of fabric that Kevin could just make out between her legs HAD to be a thong.

On her legs were black fishnets, and upon her feet were the tallest red stilettos that Kevin had ever seen. In her hands was a sign that simply read “Enjoy the fight” on one side. There was something written on the other side, but Kevin couldn’t make it out from that angle.

When she felt Kev had gotten his fill, V. just smiled sweetly and replied, “Hey, it’s all about making some money, right babe? I gotta do my part too!!!” She jiggled her tits and sauntered out to loud applause.

Before Kev could even catch his breath, he heard V. “doing her part” as the combination emcee and ring girl. “In this corner, wearing true blue and standing at 6’0” and weighing in at 160 pounds, is Ian “Fighting Irish” Gallagher!”

Kevin poked his head through the crack in the door and saw that the house lights were turned down and the spotlights were on. An Irish rap song blared through the surround sound as Ian slowly and confidently approached the ring. The crowd was going wild! Debbie bobbed her head, and Frannie sang along from behind the bar as Ian ducked down and climbed into the ring.

In addition to Tami and Lip, he’d hired the rest of the friends and family to help out with sights and sounds, and odds and ends, and it all seemed to be going well. He looked around and saw patrons eating and drinking, so Carl could still be trusted with the booze and Fiona still hadn’t poisoned anybody yet. Liam gave him a “thumbs up” sign from behind the register, letting him know that everyone was paying cash and not trying any “tab” bullshit tonight.

Kev sighed and thought to himself, ‘This is happening! This is really happening!’

“And in this corner, wearing mean green and standing at 5’7” and weighing in at 130 pounds, Mikhailo “Dirty White” Milkovich!”

Once again, V.’s voice broke through Kev’s train of thought. Debbie gave Frannie a signal and the light changed color and flashed to Mickey coming into view in the opposite direction. Heavy Metal blared loudly as Mickey quickly and rather energetically traversed the room before jumping into the ring and cursing loudly at Ian.

“You big red motherfucker! You just wait ‘til I get my hands on you! You fuckn’!”

Mickey seemed to be absolutely enraged, as he advanced towards the other man. But Ian just eyed him coldly. The crowd seemed to eat up their odd mix of heat and ice.

V. let them stew for a few tense moments before waving her sign around, flipping it over, and explaining the rules of the fight, “Don’t fuck up my shit and don’t get the cops called. Now FIGHT!!!”

At once, Mickey came out swinging, but Ian used his advanced arm-length to plant one big, meaty, glove-wrapped paw on the top of Mick’s head and hold him in place, which only served to further anger the shorter man. Then, Ian started to move. He began to advance on Mickey until the other man was on the ropes.

Of course, all of Kev’s money had gone on Ian. He knew Mickey was probably naturally the better fighter, but Ian’s reach put Mickey at a severe disadvantage, and everyone had borne witness to it tonight. Kev hoped that Ian would at least stretch it out a bit and give the people a show for their money. The crowd only gasped in anticipation of how bad the beating was gonna be.

For his part, Mickey winced, waiting for the blow to come, but the “Fighting Irish” had other plans. Ian bent down and planted a hot, wet kiss right on “Dirty White’s” lips, right there in the ring. Right there on the ropes. Mickey immediately opened his mouth to him and soon it was painfully obvious that the fight was over.

The crowd sat in shocked disbelief.

Ian reluctantly pulled his lips away from Mickey’s and eased his weight off of the other man, never fulling breaking contact.

“I’m sorry,” Ian murmured so softly, clearly meant for only Mickey’s ears.

Mickey looked up at Ian tentatively. “Apologies with no change, Ian. Remember what the therapist said? There has to be change, man.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. We can flip-fuck four nights a month instead of three.”

With that, Mickey walked Ian to the other side of the ring and kissed him silly on the ropes.

Veronica happily turned over her “Enjoy the show” sign. On the back was “NO REFUNDS FOLKS!!!” And in smaller writing was “We are licensed, bonded, and insured for entertainment purposes only. We are NOT affiliated with nor governed by any legal gambling entities and will only pay out funds for clear wins. Funds will NOT be returned for “No contests,” forfeits, or other outcomes beyond the house’s control, or where a winner has not been unequivocally determined. All proceeds held in trust will then go to the house for entertainment fees.”

My entry for @gallavichthings' Gallavich Gift Exchange, written for @froggyfun365!

Pairing: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Rating: Explicit Words: 11,900 Tags: Top Ian Gallagher/Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, A/B/O dynamics, Hurt/comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Fluff, Smut, Anal sex, Rimming, Blow jobs, Mating bites

Summary:

Mickey has two big secrets: first, he’s an omega among a family of alphas, and second, he’s gay. When a name appears on the inside of his wrist, both of those secrets rear their ugly heads and force him to flee—landing him straight into the arms of his soulmate, Ian.