Synopsis: You are taken aboard the Milano while unconscious. When you wake up, you find out you’ve become Drax’s ‘Pet Project.’
here’s part one of idk how many. It’s also in your POV just after this first
part. Ps. I’m watching GOTG Vol1 for the millionth time just to pay attention
to Drax to try and capture his character a bit better. Hope it’s okay! (unedited for the moment)
Fiona and Rochelle loved little Gardenia with all their hearts. They were a bit surprised when she came out green. Fiona didn’t realize that having alien powers meant there was a chance that her children could be born as aliens too.
I can’t believe I wrote a Shrek is Love reference into my fic *hides in shame*
Gendry turns at the voice—it’s Arya, he knows it’s her immediately—and the moment he’s turned around he can see why she sounds angry.
“Four people already came up to me to congratulate us on our couple costume,” Arya fumes. “We are not a couple!”
Gendry smiles hesitantly. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” he tries. “We can just hang out on other sides of the party.”
Arya’s scowl deepens at that, but Gendry can see she’s not really mad. “Who the hell comes dressed as Shrek for Halloween?” she demands.
Gendry looks down at his costume. He’s actually sort of proud of it. The green paint is itchy on his skin, but the fake ears look good and so do the clothes Mya helped him pull together.
“It’s a good movie,” he protests. “The first one is really good, especially if you’re in the mood for a satire…”
Arya laughs disbelievingly. She’s dressed as Fiona—ogre Fiona, with green body paint nearly the same shade as Gendry’s. “Yeah, but to deal with the Shrek is love, Shrek is life references—”
At Gendry’s blank look, Arya actually stops laughing. “Wait. You haven’t seen it?”
“…No?” Gendry says, confused. “I mean, Hot Pie yelled ‘Shrek is Love!’ from across the room at me, but I think that means he likes the costume.”
Arya grins at Gendry, and roots around in her pocket for her phone. “Okay, you have to watch this. Now.” There’s something evil in her smile, but then she’s leaning closer to him and Gendry forgets why he should be running in the opposite direction.
“Arya,” he starts, “we’re in the middle of a party. Can’t I watch it later?”
“No,” Arya tells him. “Because if you watch this, I’ll hang out with you for the rest of the night. And you can get me breakfast in the morning.”
Gendry’s face heats, and suddenly, he’s glad for the face paint.
I know the months don’t add up to the events in canon perfectly, but this idea popped into my head and I went for it anyway. Set around Season 2/3. Enjoy :) xx
“Hey! Hey, Gallagher!”
Lip glances up from his phone and gives the young man
walking towards him a suspicious look. Fresh out of juvie and walking as if he
owns the damn world, Mickey fucking Milkovich.
“Do I need to run?”
Lip calls and Mickey shrugs
“If you do, I’ll break your fuckin’ legs.”
“And if I don’t run?”
“What’s with twenty fuckin’ questions? Just say hello like a
Lip sighs and puts his phone away. What the fuck Ian sees in
Milkovich, Lip will never know. The guy is short as shit, walks like he’s got
something jammed up his ass – which he might, Lip reasons – and seriously needs
to learn basic hygiene. Lip stands up from leaning on his fence and quickly
looks over his shoulder to make sure he can run if it turns out he needs to.
“It’s Ian’s birthday soon, right?”
“Well … what the fuck does he want? Army shit?”
“Why would you get my brother a present, Mickey?”
Lip sees alarm flicker across Mickey’s face but it is gone
in the time it takes for Mickey to blink and the look is replaced with one of
“Mandy wants to get him something – that OK with you?”
“Oh, sure, if it’s Mandy …”
“Wipe that shit eating grin off your face or I will remove
it for you, fuckhead.”
Even if Lip was not a certified genius, he would be able to
tell that he is on very thin ice and he holds up his hands apologetically.
“Ian likes army stuff sure, but he also likes cigarettes and
beer, might be more appropriate.”
“Nah man, she wants to get him something like … ah … like
something he can keep.”
Mickey shrugs his shoulders and bites his lip, rolling it
self-consciously between his teeth. Lip smirks and draws on his cigarette,
enjoying the other boy’s uneasiness. It is funny really, if someone had asked
Lip, he would have said that he didn’t realise that Mickey was capable of
emotions beyond anger and malice but actually watching him talk about Ian,
there is a carousel of different feelings playing out that are visible for the
whole world to see. If anyone actually bothered to look at Mickey for more than
a couple of seconds, Lip thinks, his secret would be well and truly be out.
“You play much poker, Mickey?”
“No reason, just wondered. Anyway,”
Lip smiles and cocks
his head to the side thinking.
“Ian is careful with his lighters. I reckon if Mandy got him
a nice one, he’d take care of it.”
Mickey considers this for a moment and then nods curtly
“Alright. Thanks. I’ll tell her.”
“Want me to tell her? I’m seeing her later.”
“What? No! I mean … yeah. Whatever. Do what the fuck you
want. I don’t give a shit.”
Mickey frowns at Lip and turns on his heel, walking back up
Ian wakes up and heads downstairs. There is the familiar
hushing and suspicious silence as he gets half-way down and he grins to himself
before arranging his face into sleepy, unawareness and plodding down the last
The chorus greets him as soon as his foot hits the kitchen floor
and he is bundled in a proper Gallagher group hug. There are pancakes,
balloons, and a small pile of presents on the table.
Ian never goes into school on his birthday, it’s kind of his
whole thing and as it is the only time he plays hookie, Fiona has let him do it
since he was ten. They eat together and watch Ian open his ‘big’ present, a
pair of Haix military boots that everyone had chipped in for then there is the
usual chaos of the family getting ready to leave the house.
Finally, Ian is on his own and he turns his attention to the
rest of his gifts. There is a knitted scarf from Debbie and Fiona in soft green
wool, a drawing from Liam, a knife from Carl that looks like it has seen better
days and Ian makes a mental note to ask his little brother where he found it, a
bottle of Makers Mark from Lip and a card with twenty dollars in it which is signed
‘Dad’ in Fiona’s neat script.
Ian pockets the twenty and picks up the last package. It is
small and wrapped in cheap metallic blue gift wrap; a folded scrunch of paper
taped to the front opens up to reveal the words ‘Ian. Happy Birthday. M.’
Ian’s heart thuds in his chest and his palms slick with
sweat. It is not Monica’s extravagant penmanship, all loops and swirls, nor is
it Mandy’s deliberately spiky lettering. He only knows one other ‘M’ who might
send him a birthday present. The words are almost carved into the paper,
created with swift, sure strokes and a heavy hand.
Ian sniffs at the package but any possible trace of the
senders scent has long since faded.
He almost doesn’t want to open it but he also wants to see
what Mickey has sent him. He pours himself another coffee and sips it slowly
before taking a deep breath and judiciously peeling off the slip of attached to
the gift. He puts in in his front pocket and unwraps the box slowly.
The gift wrap peels away to reveal a smooth black zippo box.
Ian opens it carefully and tips the contents into the palm of his hand. It is a
simple steel lighter, elegantly crafted and on one side, the initials ‘I. C. G’
have been painstakingly carved across the middle. Ian flips it over, for a
split second he is disappointed, and then he sees in the corner, a very small,
neat ‘M’ and his heart soars.
He pulls out his phone and taps out a quick text:
‘It’s perfect! Thank you! Best birthday gift ever!’
Moments later his phone vibrates on the table – Mickey must
have been waiting for him to text.
‘Welcome. You home?’
‘Yes. Come over?’
Ian dashes upstairs and tugs his bed into some sort of
order, he lies down and tries to get into a pose that is both casual and impossibly
sexy before realising that he’ll have to go downstairs to let Mickey in anyway.
He delves into his backpack and meticulously lines up lube,
condoms and cigarettes on his dresser, Mickey is likely to want them in that
order and it pleases Ian no end that he knows this.
There is a knock on the door and Ian sprints down to answer
it like an over excited puppy. Mickey is stood on the step, tongue already set
in the corner of his mouth and dick very visibly straining against the crotch
of his pants.
“Happy fuckin’ Birthday, Firecrotch.”
His smirk changes to a look of shocked irritation as Ian
throws his arms around him.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
Ian babbles as Mickey futilely pushes at his chest.
“What the … get the fuck off me, idiot!”
“It’s perfect, Mickey!”
Ian finally pulls back to smile down into Mickey’s scowling
face and finds himself roughly hustled inside as Mickey bundles him in and
kicks the door shut behind them.
“Don’t fuckin’ do that again, you hear me?”
“Sure, sorry, just … really happy.”
Ian can’t stop smiling and Mickey holds his grouch for a
moment longer before rolling his eyes and giving into a small smirk
“Yeah well, glad you like it. It’s not stolen either.”
Ian looks as if he is about to throw himself on Mickey again
and the shorter man quickly sidesteps him, moving over to peer at the photos on
the mantle piece, wanting to get away from the windows before Gallagher does
any other gay shit.
“You eat already?”
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t know you’d be coming or I’d have saved
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Was gonna buy you breakfast or
something if you hadn’t.”
The pancakes turn to ash in Ian’s stomach and he doesn’t
think he has ever regretted anything as much as he regrets eating them. He looks
at Mickey hopefully and gives him a lopsided smile
“We could get something later?”
“Yeah whatever man, I ain’t got anything on today.”
Ian can’t quite believe that Mickey would have kept his
schedule free specifically because it is Ian’s birthday, but he is not
completely beyond hoping and the thought makes his heart flutter. Mickey
adjusts the crotch of his jeans uncomfortably as he turns back to Ian.
“Got somethin’ else for you by the way.”
His grin is the most beautiful thing Ian has ever seen, all
white teeth and pink tongue and sweetly arching eyebrows over perfect blue
eyes. Ian wants to tell him this but pushes the idea away and tries to get
himself onto Mickey’s level, it’s not exactly a challenge and he feels a little
swagger creeping into his stride as he approaches Mickey.
“Two presents? Must be my lucky day.”
“Uh-huh. Get upstairs, Gallagher.”
Mickey jerks his head toward the stairs but Ian grabs his
shoulders and pushes him forward, slapping Mickey’s ass sharply
“You go first; I want to watch you walk.”
Mickey ducks his head and his grin becomes almost shy but he
obligingly walks ahead of Ian who takes a firm grip on Mickey’s hips and makes
an appreciative noise at the back of his throat.
“Damn, your ass is perfect.”
Mickey cocks an eyebrow over his shoulder at Ian and doesn’t
reply. Ian considers this progress in itself and smiles. When they get into the
room Mickey closes the curtains which is unusual in an upstairs room, even for
“Ya know, birthdays come once a year.”
“I’ve had a few. I know how it works.”
Ian laughs and Mickey raises his middle finger as he closes
the bedroom door. He is gnawing at one side of his lip and looking pretty damn
nervous all of a sudden.
“Yeah so … I figure something … nice for you is ok as like a
Ian draws his brows together in confusion
Mickey closes his eyes for a second, clearly making up his
mind and then all at once, drops to his knees in front of Ian, his hands
tugging roughly at Ian’s belt and the buttons of his pants. Ian is too shocked
to do anything for a moment and then he begins helping Mickey, who’s fingers
are trembling too much to get the small fly buttons open.
“Are you sure?”
“You fuckin’ want this or not?”
“Yes I do.”
Ian nods hastily and Mickey give him a curt nod in response
before licking his lips and contemplating the object now quivering an inch from
his nose. Ian fixes his eyes on the ceiling, patiently waiting for Mickey to
decide exactly what he is going to do with it. He is willing himself to
stillness, trying not to even breathe too loud for fear of spooking Mickey.
Eventually, after what feels like an age, he feels the tip
of Mickey’s tongue briefly flick against the slit and makes a strangled noise
at the back of his throat, trying to keep still and not plunge his hands into
the dark whorls of Mickey’s hair. Far from scaring his lover, the noise
actually seems to encourage Mickey, who tentatively takes Ian into his mouth,
then swallows a little too enthusiastically, and promptly chokes.
“Shit! You OK?”
“Yeah, shut the fuck up, I’m concentrating.”
Ian’s lip is shaking like a leaf but he knows this is over
if he laughs so he uses everything he’s got to push it back.
Mickey tries again, a little less exuberantly and begins to
find his rhythm. It is not the most expertly delivered job he has ever had but
it is definitely up there in terms of the most enthusiastic. Ian places an experimental
hand on Mickey’s head, letting his fingers stretch through the black lengths.
Mickey makes a noise of his own and Ian shudders happily.
“Use your hand for the rest of the length.”
He urges and Mickey complies instantly. Ian gives it a moment,
chances a look down, and is met with an intent blue gaze looking up at him and
knuckles that say ‘FUCK’ wrapped around his cock.
“Aww Jesus, Mickey.”
It is all too much. Ian feels so much love in his heart for
this unusual, beautiful and passionate man that he can barely stand it.
“Mick, I’m going to … I can’t hold it …”
Mickey’s eyebrows lower a fraction, an expression that even
from Ian’s vantage point clearly spells determination and Ian loses all
control, dragging Mickey closer by the hair, his body convulsing and hips
A little while later as they lay side by side in Ian’s bed,
sharing a cigarette for no reason other than because they want to, Ian toying
with his new lighter and Mickey toying with the silky hair on Ian’s thigh,
Mickey clears his throat
“So … uh … was that OK?”
“You know it was! The way you clenched …”
“Nah, not that.”
Mickey shakes his head but he is smiling happily and clearly
as pleased with the results of that escapade as Ian is.
“I meant the first thing … what I did.”
Ian looks across at Mickey. His face in profile is almost
achingly perfect and Ian wishes he could kiss him but contents himself with a
sweep of his thumb over one darkly stubbled cheekbone.
“Yeah! Shit! Yeah that was amazing, Mick. Thank you.”
“Cool. Yeah, I never did that before.”
Ian doesn’t mean it the way it sounds and Mickey glares at
him for a second before settling.
“Course not. That’s like the gayest of the gay. It’s fuckin’
“But you did it for me.”
Ian smiles coyly and Mickey purses his lips before nodding.
“Yeah. I did it for you. Don’t get fuckin’ used to it
though. I’m not your mouth whore.”
Ian passes the smoke back to Mickey and they lie in silence
for a minute or two.
“You wanna get some lunch?”
Mickey asks finally
“Sure. Why not?”
Ian feels like he is floating in some sort of perfect bubble
and for once Mickey is in it with him. It is shaping up to be one of the best
days of his life. Happy fuckin’ birthday, indeed!
He had to use all his self control so he won’t make a noise. You looked so peacefull, sleeping with his AOMG shirt you “borrowed” from him when your clothes were in the dryer at his house. It was 3 a.m. and he just finished work, but he promised to help you lose weight. He blew the horn making you jump out of your bed and almost fall, your heart beating faster than it ever has. He used the flashlight of his phone to blind you
“Get up! Time to work out”
“What is wrong with you?”
You questioned kinda pissed off, you barely had gotten any sleep before he attempted to give you a heart attack.
“You asked for my help, get the fuck up and let’s go. Come on nug life, coke-hondas”
He kept screaming at your face while you got up to wear some shorts and a bra
When you got to the empty gym jay pretty much forced you to go in the treadmill, he started running next to you, checking the speed you were running
“Come on baby, I don’t care if you weight as much as precious you would still be my precious, but you ask for my help so go faster. I like to, like to, MOVE IT”
You never thought you could kill anyone, but your boyfriend was testing that right now. Yes you asked for help, but you thought he was going to wake you up and make you run. He finally let you stop, but of course that was not the end of this
“Hey hey what are you doing beauty and the feast? We got to work out, that was a warm up”
Warm up? You almost died, your legs were giving up on you. He made you do three sets for every equipment in there while he was by your side using another machine. When you got to the squat bar he put the weight on the bar, refusing to tell you how much
“Come on, you want that kim k? You got to work those legs, look at you huffing and puffing, pump that ass”
No you can’t kill him, you love him. You want to kill him but you can’t, cause you love him! You honestly don’t know how you can keep yourself up. He gave you the weights and showed you the exercise you are supposed to do
“Come on peatry can lift more and do it better and he is a dead dog”
“Keep yelling and you might join him”
You grunted. This was hell,you want to lose weight not die! He chuckled at your empty threat
“I hear you cursing at me! Don’t hate the instructor,hate your laziness”
He told you to stop and you dramatically collapsed on the floor. He just stood next to your sore body
“Get up! You are two big mac’s away from looking like the green fiona”
“Why do you hate me?”
You said. He can’t love you, if he did he wouldn’t treat you like a slave. He grabbed your arm and forced you on your feet while you groaned
“Stop acting like a kid that didn’t get candy and keep going”
“Can I drink some water?”
“Fine, help yourself”
He got back to his exercises. You took the water bottle and chugged half of it. In a desperate need of a break you decided behind the closest machine, maybe that can buy you some time.
“Quit fucking around and come back to finish your set”
Fuck! You got out and went back to the machines. You honestly could not believe this was your last set, you let the weights down and run to the water bottle, he let out a loud cheer while walking to you
“Way to go babe, i’m pr-”
He stopped mid-sentence cause you threw that water that was left on his face
“I hate you so much right now. You tried to kill me”
You almost yelled, you apprieciate his support but he could go easy on you. He just smilled and gave you a tight sweaty hug
“Come on baby don’t be mad, I love you”
He sang the last part making you smile. At least he cares
—————————————————————- thank you for reading and just so you know requests are open so I would be happy to bring your fantasy in life