heymrspatel

[heymrspatel]

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shameless creator's network - april two by two

I used a verse from Robert Frost's famous poem "The Road Not Taken" The road that Ian and Mickey chose was often hard. It wasn't the easy path. It was so unknown to the people around them. They couldn't see the path ahead. They couldn't see the destination but they believed there was one. And that has made all the difference.

#oh 🥺🥺🥺 #i love this chani!

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✨ saturday night piiicrew! ✨

will ya join me?

i'll kick this off by tagging @whatthebodygraspsnot @whatwouldmickeydo @gallawitchxx @metalheadmickey @gardenerian

@howlinchickhowl @deedala @mickeysgaymom @sleepyfacetoughguy @crossmydna

@mmmichyyy @creepkinginc @deathclassic @jademickian @mybrainismelted

@jrooc @blue-disco-lights @krysmiss @lingy910y @y0itsbri

@doshiart @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @mickeym4ndy @mickittotheman if you would like to play! if not, this is just me giving you a lil flower 🌷

(holy fuck the tags are broken again... nvm the stupid format. ok luv u thx bye)

#she doesn't look like me but she also kinda does but she doesn't but like she does but she doesn't.... ya know? #picrew

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peopleiveloved

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🌿 Names Mickey Calls Ian Throughout Their Greenhouse Trip And Beyond 🍅🌿

i took my annual trip to the greenhouse today for my tomatoes, so you all know what time it is. please enjoy.

honorable mention Beefsteak 🍅

#i get such a kick out of imagining mickey pointing at each one and going 'that's you' and just absolutely giggling about it #*point* 'hehehe this is you'... *point* 'ian look 😏'... *point* 'ooh look at you! you're my big boy hmm? OH my midnight snack!' #heehee!! it makes me happy 😌

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16 for the kiss meme if you feel inspired? 👀💖

Of course!

16. ...lazily

Mickey wakes with a soft little snuffling sound, his cheek rubbing against the pillow, his grip tightening on Ian’s bicep.

Ian’s breath hitches. The sappy smile on his lips stretches wider.

Gone are the days when Mickey would wake with a jolt, with a kick and a curse and a wild, haunted look in his eyes. The transition from rest to ready used to be so sudden and jarring and violent.

Now, Ian can barely even tell when it’s happening. Is only able to notice because he pays very close attention to the cadence of Mickey’s breaths.

Mickey cracks an eye open. Glares at Ian sleepily. 

“Fucking creep.”

Ian laughs softly. Brings a hand up to smooth over Mickey’s hair, relishing in the way Mickey nuzzles into it instead of batting him away or shoving back. “You oughta be used to me watching you sleep by now.”

Mickey’s response is delayed by a yawn. “Yeah, well, you oughta be used to me calling you out on your creepyass behavior. Goddamn weirdo.”

“A goddamn weirdo that you love~,” Ian teases.

Mickey’s glare softens. His eyes slip closed, one brow arching, a smile tugging at his lips.

Ian can’t not kiss him. 

He leans in, seals their lips together, as easy and familiar and comforting as breathing. Mickey hums happily. Wiggles against the sheets. “You gonna fuck me, tough guy?”

Ian nips at Mickey’s lip. Thinks about it. Shakes his head, lips brushing together, noses bumping. “Nah. Just… wanna do this, for a while.”

Mickey huffs. Gets a hand up to tangle in Ian’s hair. “Fuckin’ sap,” he grumbles, but there’s a smile on his lips that Ian can taste.

They trade lazy kisses, and fall back asleep still melted into one another.

send me a number~

#aaaaaagghhhh them and this and yes and always and AAAAAHHHH #kissing you know? you know?

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just ian and mickey holding hands and cuddling like the married couple they are

yea yea yea YEAAA!

they can do this at all times and everywhere and anywhere!

when they're cozy at home. in the early mornings when neither of them wants to get up yet. bathed in soft light. giving each other soft little kisses and holding. just holding and breathing each other in. touching foreheads and talking in whispers and booping their noses.

and at night after they've finished ravishing each other. completely spent and satisfied and tangled and marked up. trying to catch their breaths and slow their heartbeats, but refusing to let go. still breathing each other in and kissing and kissing and kissing. not being able to stop just yet. because they want to. because they can.

and in the gallagher house huddled up on the couch. watching a movie with the siblings but still gravitating towards each other. mickey throwing his leg over ian's. ian grabbing mickey's hand and playing with his fingers. mickey tucking his face into ian's neck when he gets bored and ian threading his fingers in his hair.

and in the pool when they're sunbathing. mickey sitting in between ian's legs and letting him lather sunscreen on his back. ian taking his time and massaging it in. leaning forward and placing kisses on his shoulder, his back, the back of his neck. wrapping his arms around mickey's waist when he's done and pulling him back into his chest.

and in the ambulance when they're in the middle of a work day. placing little kisses on the back of each other's hands and wrists and sneaking in a little finger nibble. taking turns holding on to each other's thighs, running their palms up and down and up up up.

and in the laundry room. and in the supermarket. and in the pharmacy.

and on date nights. and on nights in. and on happy days. and on low days.

and forever.

#so true op. i wish that were me.

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ⓘ This user just wanna sit in front of the ocean and listen to the waves rn.

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Richard McClure Scarry "My perfect to-do list"

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“You deserve the love you keep trying to give everyone else.”

— Unknown

#....hm ok

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pookie milkovich, as i live and breathe

#i have a feeling he's extra pookie today. you know? #like ian can't stop staring at him and touching him and being smitten by him and giggling at his silly comments. Extra Pookie.

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"Danced too much, nearly fell off the stage.”

Beloved music nerd Ian from None The Wiser by @loftec

#HE'S SO CUTE HELP HELP HELP!!! #his lil mouth and blushy cheeks and squinty eyes AAAH! #deanna your art makes me want to scream!!! #art rec

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Mitsuo Mukao

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mood

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What's that about anyway? It's a long story. Ends in all-you-can-eat tamales. Come here.

#......i can't do this tonight actually

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Anybody else just tired and bored with themself or is it just me and Bruce Springsteen

#hey there baby. i could use just a little help.

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hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

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send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

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#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

#oh bee oh bee! i loved this! #i love how comfortable and cozy they are at the end. just jumping right back into it after all that time #🥺 oh i'm soft and sad alsdfkj