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ruewrote · 1 year

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𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.

PAIRING: carl gallagher x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: angst? mostly fluff SONG INSPIRATION: there for you by martin garrix WORD COUNT: 748

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it had been well past dark when you got the call. carl’s words coming out frantic and rushed. this would happen on occasion, he felt the most comfort talking to you about his problems, thoughts and feelings.

as of late he had been drifting from you doing god knows what, whatever it was — it distanced the two of you. it hurt you, cut deep.

you were always connected at the hip ever since you had started high school. carl had taken an interest in you almost instantly, it started with him sitting at the other end of your empty table at lunch, a greeting of a small nod, turned into a wave and more.

it wasn’t hard to fall in love with carl, whatsoever.

it made it easier as he’d make sure no one messed with you in school,

as he’d walk you home to make sure you were safe even though you lived down the street from him.

even helped him with studies after juvie.

you wrote him every single day, not knowing if he would write back or even care.

he did.

he’d never let you know but he had saved each and every note that you sent to him in a little box under his bed, carl knew no one would ever go under there so it was his little secret.

fiona was beyond grateful for you. not just for looking out for carl, but for when you’d offer to babysit liam or help out with some chores around the house.

you were basically part of the family. being there every single time monica decided to turn up and do a shitty job of parenting then flunk off when it didn’t go to plan.

holding carl as he cried in your arms everytime, until the day when she passed and it was time where he had to finally come to terms with it all.

the point is, you had been through a lot with him so whenever you’d get a call no matter what time or day you’d pick up.

this had been one of those times.

“i-i’m sorry for calling, i k-know that i’ve not been in touch lately and i was so stupid for not c-calling you sooner — b-but i need you.”

with that said you ended the call, throwing on your slippers — crawling out of your window and making a run for the gallagher's front door.

you didn't care about the chance of someone seeing you running down the street in your pyjamas not like it'd be the weirdest anyone would see around here.

sliding to a stop as you arrived at the house, he was sat on the bottom step, head in his hands.

"oh carl..."

gasping as you saw the stitches in his forehead, instantly running over and grasping his face in your hands checking him over asking him a thousand questions at once.

but stopping mid sentence when you notice the tear stains on his cheeks - as his bottom lip wobbled at the familiarity of it all.

"im s-sorry for calling you so late-" his apologies were cut short as you pulled him into a hug. he sobbed into your shoulder, eyes tearing up as you feel him collapse into your touch.

sitting down where he had sat previously not letting go of him in the process.

carl's hands dug into the soft material of your shirt as his sobs turned to sniffles.

he pulled away just enough so you could see his face, letting you gently wipe away his tears.

“do you want to talk about it?” the only response you got was a shaken head.

“well if it helps i’ve missed your dumbass.” punching his arm lightly before leaning into his side, listening to the sound of your light breathing and dogs barking in the distance.

“'missed you too, it’s been too long since i last saw you.” you just gave him a slight nod as the sadness takes over you and a frown replaces your smile.

you and carl decided to make your way to 7/11 to get slushies, catching up as you walked home hand-in-hand, bumping each others shoulders as you walked down the path to your house.

slipping back into your window, bundling up under the covers.

carl laying on your chest, you stroking his hair lulling the both of you into a deep sleep.

you’d decided that you wouldn't let time come between the pair of you again.

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bl00d-bunny · 2 years

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wakeup call - lip gallagher

-pairing- lip gallagher x fem!reader

-summary- after you're late for a shift at patsy's pies, lip swings by your apartment to check on you

-warnings- smut minors dni!!, smoking (w33d), shameless activities lol, general smuttiness, unprotected p in v (be smart, wrap it!),

-word count- 2k

-additional notes- not proofread or edited,

18+ minors do not interact!

the southside wasn’t the best place to live and you knew that, between the near-constant construction and the fights on the streets it was a miracle that you ever got a lay in. you hadn’t been able to sleep until at least 3 am since your neighbours decided to blast crappy songs in an attempt to hide the fact they were fucking all night long (it didn’t work, obviously). And it sounded like they just started up again, great.

you sigh as you glance at the clock, 9.34 am, there goes your lie-in. you roll over and pull a pillow over your head, but the pounding against the wall only gets louder. eventually, you decide you can’t take it anymore, full of rage and lack of sleep, you throw yourself out of your warm bed, tugging your robe on tight. as you make your way to the front door you realise the banging was not your neighbours going for round 5, it was someone knocking on your door, aggressively.

you grab the wooden baseball bat you keep by the front door just in case and make your way to the door. on your tip toes, bat raised, you squint to look through the peephole. you roll your eyes and lower the bat. what was lip gallagher doing pounding on your door on a sunday morning?

“what do you want?” you swing the door open.

juxtapose to his knocking, he didn’t seem angry.

“fi sent me, you didn’t show up for your shift,” he said plainly.

fiona really helped you out when you were in a bad place, she gave you a job at patsy’s and let you rent one of her apartments. she got you off the streets and gave you stability and for that, you were forever grateful but you knew you didn’t have a shift today, you never had a shift on a sunday, and in the rare case you worked a sunday shift you wouldn’t start til 11. you told lip that much.

“it’s saturday and…” he pulled out his phone to check the time, “it’s quarter past 12,”

“what? no, my clock said…” you trailed off rushing back to your bedroom

9.34 am still flashed on your alarm clock, the power must have gone out. you grabbed your phone from where it was charging but it didn’t turn on. it died last night on your shift, but you plugged it in. and it was still plugged in you pushed the cord and your phone lit up letting you know it was finally charging.

“fuck!” you flopped back onto your bed, dragging your hands down your face.

“i’ll call fiona,” you jumped not realising he had followed you, standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

“thank you, i’ll literally be 5 minutes,” you pushed past him making your way to the bathroom.

you brushed your teeth in record time, turning the faucet off you overheard him on the phone.

“…she can’t stop throwing up, fi. there’s no way she can come in.”

you poked your head out of the bathroom “what the fuck are you doing?!?” you mouthed to him.

“relax, trust me” he turned his attention back to his phone, “i think i’m gonna stay here a little while and make sure she’s okay,”

you looked at him with wide eyes, what was he doing? you were practically ready for work and he just told fiona you’re not going in.

“what was that all about?” you started as soon as his phone was back in his pocket.

“well now neither of us has to go to work” he shrugged with a smug smile.

“and what if fiona decides to come to check up on us?” you questioned. when you are actually sick, sometimes fiona will stop by and check on you, maybe bring you some soup and a box of tissues. what if she came to check up on you and saw you were fine and lip was nowhere to be seen?

“guess we will have to hang out here, ya know just in case,” he settled himself on the sofa.

“whatever, i’m gonna try and get some sleep,” lack of sleep finally caught up to you as you shuffled to your bed that had long lost its warmth.

after what felt like an eternity you gave up on going back to sleep. tired of tossing and turning you moved to the living room. plopping yourself on the opposite side of the couch from where lip was scrolling on his phone, as whatever daytime show played on your tv. you reached under your coffee table, pulled out your rolling tray, and began rolling a joint. you saw lip watching you out of the corner of your eye but chose to ignore him until you brought the joint to your lips. you locked eyes with him as you slowly slide your tongue out to lick the gum strip before rolling the joint closed. you only broke eye contact to find a lighter, which of course you couldn’t find. lip shifted his body weight as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket, he moved closer to you and sparked it. you leaned in, joint held between your lips, looking down as the end glowed red in the orange flame.

you brought your fingers up to remove the blunt from your lips, closing your eyes and leaning back as you inhale, feeling the warmth of the weed spread throughout your whole body, instantly relaxing you. exhaling, you sit up again taking another puff before holding the spliff towards lip, instead of taking it he pulled you closer to him with your outstretched arm. you’re confused until you finally exhale your last puff and he inhales it keeping his eyes on yours. you bring the joint to your lips once more, inhaling deeper this time, moving your lips inches away from his as you exhaled.

you watch as the milky smoke moves from your lips to his. your entire being is warm, maybe its the weed, maybe its lips hands resting on your legs, or simply the close proximity, but you feel lightheaded. finally breaking eye contact with him you place the joint in the ashtray- but don’t you move from your cross-legged position and he doesn’t move his hands from your legs.

you watched his eyes fall from yours to your lips and back again. you knew what was coming next, it was only a matter of time. you and lip have had this predicament going on for a while now. you’d flirt with each other, tease each other, until the tension hung in the air like smoke, and just when one of you was about to make a move, there was always an interruption. sometimes it was a phone call, or someone walking in, no matter what it was the interruption was always there. maybe it was a sign that you shouldn’t, but neither of you cared enough to pay it any mind.

but here, in your apartment, alone, together, with nowhere to be, there was no interruption this time. he knew that you knew that, still neither made the move to close the gap. maybe a little more weed would help speed things along, you reached towards the half-smoked joint still in the ashtray, but he stopped you, his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. before you could say anything, do anything, his lips were on yours, hungry as if he was starved and only you could satisfy his hunger.

his hands on your face pulling you impossibly close, you pulled yourself to be on his lap, your arms around his neck fingers tangling in his hair. no distractions, no interruptions, just you two on the couch smoke hanging in clouds around, keeping the world out.

you feel him grow hard beneath you, grinding against him, searching for friction in any form, he growled in your mouth so you continued.

he pinned you between himself and your worn-down couch, his tongue moving against your own. you bucked your hips, still chasing any kind of touch or friction. his large hands came to pin your hips against the tattered couch, you whined missing the movement.

“be patient,” he kissed your jaw. you turned your head to allow him more access as he left sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping here and there. you bit down on your lip to not give him the satisfaction.

he soon found out how worked up he’d got you when he shoved his hand down your pants. his slender fingers teasing your clit with large, slow circles. you reach between you to start unbuttoning his pants but he uses his opposite hand to pin your wrists above your head.

“really?” you huff out

“i told you to be patient,” he smirked applying pressure to your clit that caused you to squirm beneath him, his teeth at your neck.

eventually, he removed his hand from your wrists in favour of your boobs, pulling your neckline down to expose your chest. one hand pinching at your nipple, the other keeping up the slow circles on your clit, as if he couldn’t be doing anymore he brought his lips to your free nipple, sucking and nipping leaving you a mess. the room was spinning, your head clouded, heart beating wildly underneath your ribcage.

he removed himself from you, much to your displeasure. with his legs on either side of you, he unbuttoned your pants, pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you breathless. with him above you now you could see his cock struggling against his jeans, almost instinctively you reach up to unbutton them. he stands up to remove them further as you kick yours from around your ankles.

he kneels over you once more, one hand next to your head the other pumping his cock between you. you look down to watch, subconsciously biting your lip. he readies himself between your legs, and you wrap your arms around his neck. in one agonisingly slow thrust he bottomed out. you squeezed your eyes shut mentally adjusting your self.

he places a hand on your hip as he pulls out almost completely, he looks down where the two of you connect. you can’t help but buck your hips desperate to feel him inside of you again. he brings both his hands to you hips to press you into the couch, all you can do is whine, showing him just how desperate you are.

before you knew it his hips snapped against yours in a ruthless thrust causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head, a mix of a moan and a scream climb from your throat.

his lips against your ear now “ i warned you to be paitent,” his voice darker than before

“guess i’ll just have to teach. you. a lesson.” each word punctuated with a thrust deeper than the last. you felt yourself coming undone, he knew it too, between the moans you let out and your nails in his back, lip knew exactly what he was doing to you.

he released you hips from his grasp but didn’t let up on the speed, he brought his thumb to your clit drawing slow steady circles, a mind-numbing contrast to his thrusts now growing sloppy.

his breath hot across your face, he was close, you were too, it was a matter of time before one of you came tipping the other over the edge. he picked up the circles on your clit hoping to make you come first, you attacked his neck with your tongue, trying not to give him the satisfaction. but it was to little to late, he had you a mess beneath him, you wrapped a leg around his hip, allowing him to hit just the right spot.

in a matter of seconds, you came, closing your eyes you allowed yourself to be swallowed by the sensations, lip following closely behind, collapsing on top of you.

eyes still closed, trying to catch your breath, you feel lip get up and move to the other side of the couch, then you hear the lighter click and his steady inhale. without opening your eyes you stick you hand out in his direction awaiting the joint, instead you only hear him inhale again. you sit up giving him a death glare.

“did that lesson really teach you nothing?” he smirks before blowing the smoke in your direction.

you stand up, taking the joint from him before sitting on his lap, taking a long inhale.

“i guess i’ll be needing more lessons then”

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doshiart · 3 months

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F1 AU // GALLAVICH

Ian Gallagher is a racing driver, a young star of the McLaren team. Mickey is just a car technician, who only recently joined the team as a trainee.

/long read backstory below/

Okay, I've thought about this a lot. So.. Shameless US but.. huh? living in UK?

First of all, because Formula 1 is more popular in Europe. Secondly, because I want to alter the story of Mickey's growing up. Make it a story about a little boy persevering towards his dreams. And how a simple childhood passion can grow into a potential job opportunity.

If briefly, below I talk about Mickey's developmental stages, along with his final emigration from Ukraine to the UK.

I'm not going into Ian's backstory here. But I'll mention this in more detail at the very end of the post, if you get to the end. Ha ha. Have fun reading!!

---------------

Mickey was six, just a little boy, when he first saw a F1 race on TV. And he was amazed by how quickly the cars could go and how quickly the mechanics performed at pit stops. (Are these even mechanics? Well, they turn the wheels, dad does the same thing in the garage and considers himself a mechanic).

When the next year he went to school in his first grade, then to all the teachers' questions or questionnaires with their “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he confidently answered as clearly as his childish language could, that he would definitely become a F1 mechanic. Even though he received only gentle smiles in reaction to his naivety of being a kid, the desire took root in his little head.

---

As he grew older, he continued to enjoy racing, watching every race weekend he could. And while he was a child this did not cause any particular problems. Mom encouraged him in his interests and every New Year gave him tiny branded cars of the teams he loved. But as he gets older, the more often he hears from dad that he is interested in some stupid things. And he didn't want to hear a word about racing at all. As soon as Mickey mentioned it even once, he was cut off mid-sentence.

These are not real cars.

Real mechanics work in a garage with real cars, not kids' toys for show.

Come down to earth. It’s all somewhere far away and you never even get to one of these races in your life.

---

Well, Mickey talks less about racing out loud anymore. Especially after mom's gone.

Tiny model cars disappeared into the closet's darkness.

His dad began to drag him into their garage more often so that he would get used to work and not wander around idle, lost in his stupid dreams. He had to skip live racing broadcasts as a result. It was sort of suicidal acts to turn this on in the garage on a small TV instead of some dumb music channel with hit songs. Mickey had learnt long ago to keep his mouth shut.

Just listen. Bring it. Grab it. Repair simple details. Don't go under the hood. Don't touch this, don't touch that. And especially don't break anything. Blah blah blah.

Jesus, are you even a man? Take your gentle hands away if you're not ready to get dirty.

---

Despite everything, Mickey still had a dream. One day, he hopes to watch a real-life race. Hear the noise of wheels flying over the track, the roar of engines, the screams of a supportive crowd. He prefers to never talk about his own desire to work as a car mechanic or engineer in F1.

---

Mickey was sixteen when he left after ninth grade for a vocational college to applied mechanics specialty.

Because, well, he had good reasons for leaving school two grades early. At the very least, he was already tired of going to school. He didn't even have any friends there. Yes, he communicated with classmates, but that's not it. It's forced. Just so as not to be an outcast and maintain the status of the Milkovich family by playing dirty tricks at school and bullying others. Did he like it? Absolutely not. These guys were idiots with stupid jokes and always picking on chicks.

They kept asking if he liked any of them and talking about how they looked all the time. Mickey never liked anyone. It wasn't that the girls were ugly, he just didn't find them attractive. But he pushed these thoughts away and ignored them. Left it somewhere near to the tiny race cars in the darkness.

Also, classmates called him into fights on regularly. Not that he was against kicking someone's dumb ass, but that he would prefer better reasons than just trying to prove whose class is above.

Another reason is that, in their family, working with their hands and having a real profession are more valued than going to higher education. Because this is a job for real men. Where will all these managers, lawyers, accountants, stupid psychologists be when their car breaks down? Mechanics will always have work and profit.

As well, Mickey is deeply curious about the workings of the engine and wants to fully understand its mechanisms. He will therefore be able to study this in practice with teachers, rather than with a psychotic bastard who screams at the slightest opportunity.

The only thing Mickey truly wanted to learn at school was English. Not because he loved it. This gave him at least some hope of "breaking abroad for the sake of a good life". Perhaps the main reason for his success was that he had a really great teacher who pushed and encouraged him. Sometimes he would stick around after class and stay just to talk with her. Mickey felt parental care, which he hasn't received lately.

“I believe that you can achieve a lot, Mikhailo. Just believe in yourself.” She told him and he believed her, hugging her a little longer so as not to show his wet eyes.

And well, after leaving school, these words sometimes came to mind during the saddest times, when he returned home after a long day of school combined with an exhausting shift in the family garage. Every time he spoke with his dad, he felt terribly devastated. The dream was literally slipping out from Mickey's hands. A pipe dream, is that what they say? Well, at least he'll try to do something.

---

Mickey was twenty when he graduated and by this time he was actively saving money, hiding it in different places. Also, he planned his escape from home, considered the best routes, and looked at what things he should take with him, confused about whether he would ever return home again.

As he approached his twenty-first birthday, he finally decided to do it. With only a spark of hope, he was ready to leave for nowhere. And okay, Mickey was a realist; he was aware that things might not work out at all and that he would have to return back eventually. But he'll do anything, though, to make sure that this doesn't happen, to avoid having to meet his dad's derisive gaze once more as his goal gets mocked.

After all, a dream is a dream, right? He also had skills and language abilities in his pocket. So he's really ready to do anything to attain even the tiniest success.

---

To get to UK, Mickey had to go through a long journey of transfers from bus to train, from train to plane. He's terribly tired, but here he is. He stands and watches as the new country greets him with heavy rain.

He first found it difficult to adjust to other people's smiling faces. There were a few times when he didn't feel at home because everyone was so friendly and lovely. And these people were incredibly talkative. He'll have to get used to this if he plans to stay here.

The first difficulties he encountered occurred at the department while filling out a form for migrants.

“Mik.. Mikai.. Mikaelo?”

“Mikhailo.” Mickey interrupted.

The employee's eyes stared blankly at him.

He sighed. “Ugh.. Mickey? Yeah, Mickey.”

“Okay, Mickey. Here you are.”

---

Mickey got a job as a mechanic for a small business fairly quickly thanks to his abilities. He was so easily and warmly accepted into the friendly team. Here he first felt respect while working. Mickey got assistance from the job department in extending his visa to stay in the country. His job also provided him with a tiny apartment, deducted from his paycheck.

After a while, feeling a little more self-assured, Mickey started saving money for qualifying courses that would help him in the future.

---

Mickey was almost twenty-four when he successfully obtained all the qualifications that were necessary for the job, as well as to be sure of himself and his knowledge. During this time two full racing seasons had passed. He attended only one race at Silverstone. This was his almost full year in the UK. His skin broke out in goosebumps when he saw the track in person. It wasn't quite what he expected. Mickey literally stood in one place and once in a while cars would drive by. On TV they show a larger overview, but still. He was excited. In this grand prix, a new young racer from the McLaren team took third place for the first time. His name seems to be Ian, and he likes to take risks on the track, driving the car while presenting a strong sense of confidence. And his hair perfectly matches with the team's car.

He missed the second race due to a qualifying exam. But he's not upset. Mickey is closer than ever to his dream. If everything works out, he'll see even more racing. If not, well, then he'll continue to work repairing regular cars. Perhaps he'll be able to attend grand prix events in other countries during his holidays?

But now it's the middle of the season and he's standing in the lobby of the McLaren Technology Center. He's trembling a little and his wild eyes are scanning everything in the immediate area.

Mickey can't believe the reality of what's happening. No he didn't become a mechanic. But.. it's still impressive. He was interviewed and tested to become a temporary vehicle technician for the team as an intern. He was told something about a possible career advancement and access to other things once he completed more qualifications, but he's not sure he heard everything correctly.

Later they tested him on team tests on the track. He's surprised that he was able to concentrate on his speed and did everything exactly as needed.

He actually became… exactly the one who changes the wheels and does minor repairs. He joined the technical team and will also work on pit stops during the races. And well, okay, if everything that's happening isn't a dream, he's really happy. Extremely happy. Of course, the longer he studied, the more he wanted to do engineering and development. But that's the tiny step, right? This is already more than anything he could have imagined. He saw the race in real life from the stands, and now he got the opportunity to see everything from the staff. He'll interact directly with the racing car. He might even hear how the team interacts with racers. Unbelievable.

Through the noise in his ears, Mickey hears someone standing beside him talking in a muffled voice.

“Hey! You're a new technician, right?”

The guy had already taken off his helmet when Mickey turned around. He softly smiles while stroking his fiery red hair.

Mickey stared at him. When he was brought to the track, he thought that some tester was sitting in the car, but not their young star.

“Yeah. Hope so…” He twitched his lip and scratched nose. “You're Ian, right?”

Of course this is Ian, what a stupid question. It's too embarrassing.

The redhead smile became even larger.

“Yeah…”

And just as he was about to add something else, one of the staff called Ian to go back and he hurriedly turned to Mickey and said quickly, “Oh, uh, see ya later then, gotta go.”

---------------

I'm glad I finally wrote and drew this. This idea has literally taken over my head so much that I don't have the energy to write Ian's backstory in the same way. Once again I am convinced that writing is hard work. And I want to say again about my love for writers. YOU ARE INCREDIBLE. For my brain, drawing is easier than writing. But it was fun!

!!!AND!!! THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! If someone suddenly wants to write a big multi-chap slowburn fic or little drabble or do anything, I'll be happy so much with absolutely anything!!

---------------

Let's talk about Ian now. I was actually going to write a backstory for him too. Maybe at least some minor notes, but I'm not quite sure how best to connect his bipolar with racing. Usually because racers drive go-karts from childhood, get into the junior league and generally build a racing career for years. Maybe he had a breakdown somewhere between seasons and it was quickly noticed?? I don’t know… And I think about how the team constantly checks him, which at times upsets him and forces him to prove to everyone that he is fine and able to drive the car.

Most likely, in this AU, Gallaghers are either rich, or Ian has a sponsor, if you know what I mean… From this fact, a whole lot can change in story. And the second thing seems more likely to me.

I was thinking about how Ian joined the McLaren team at the age of 21, and by the time he first met Mickey he was 22. He had been stable for a long time on medication.

So I'm also considering the possibility that somewhere between his 17-19 years he disappeared from the radar and came back when he found a sponsor who could pay for everything he needed and help him get into the F1 league. At first it was the weakest team, until his potential was noticed and he was offered to move to another team. This fact with the sponsor will probably put a lot of spokes in the wheels (ha).

Racer's body is undergoing an enormous physical strain, so they spend a lot of time in the gym. And Ian really enjoys working out with his team.

Another interesting fact: racers have a super-strong neck to be able to cope with gravitational forces during the race. Therefore, special attention is paid to neck in training. (It seems from the moment I found out this my little fixation began…)

---------------

I think there's a lot of pining here or something. They seem to be nearby, but due to different job responsibilities, at completely distinct levels. And I really want to read something like this with so slow burning.

So, I guess you can consider this as a big prompt for writing, if it inspires you.

Thanks for reading! <3

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jessij1997 · 1 month

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"Thank you" he whispered in my ear buries his head into my neck.

"For?" I asked, wrapped my arms around his waist.

"For being my past, present and future."

His arms tight around me, protective, promising. Vowing to never let me go again. To never give us up again. To never let anyone between us two. To never let me down again. To never doubt ourselves again.

"Thank you" I whispered back

"For?" He asked

"For you being my sappy, sneaky husband. Finally."

I heard a sniff and let my ran hand up and down his back.

"Finally" He whispered

Thanks again to @twinklyylights for the prompt for @galladrabbles

#weddingdance #we deserve more #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #gallavichedit #ian and mickey #gallavich fanfic #noel fisher #shameless fanfiction #shameless us #galladrabbles

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morgcn · 1 year

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hey 😃

i’ve written fanfiction for 6 years. i’ve always used tumblr but had never written on here so i decided to give it a go. i really hope to make friends and find people in the same fandoms as me

i write blurbs, headcanons, full fics, and anything in between. requests & asks are open

shit i like

Star Wars

Harry Potter

Brokeback Mountain

1917 (2019)

The Last of Us

Shameless

who i write for

but mainly will poulter and anyone else i start finding attractive lol

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iinovich · 2 months

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𝙋𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙥(𝙡𝙞𝙥) 𝙂𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Synopsis: You attend your AA meetings at least once a week and you yourself know that you've always had your eyes on the Dirty blonde, maybe, this could be the day you could make something out of it.. Wouldn't you like to know?

Wc: 1.3k

Cw: alcohol, violence, drugs, angst, intoxication, aa meetings

A/n: my first oneshot, shameless too, enjoy lol

.・゜-: ✧ :.・゜-: ✧ .・゜-: ✧ .・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-　　　　

You've never seen him like this and thought you never would.

AA meetings were something you tried to attend at least once a week, and when you do successfully force yourself to leave your mess of an apartment that reeks of cigarettes, you can’t help but notice the blue-eyed dirty blonde that looks like he crawled out of his own grave and always sat at the back of the AA meetings. He always showed no emotion, his hands were always dug into the pockets of his worn-out jacket and his face was always blank. He's only stepped onto the podium of the AA meetings once to talk about his alcoholic laced stories but you know he was hiding something more intense, something deeper, and you can't help but want to claw your fingers down into his throat to find out. He talks while looking down and you recognize the shame intertwined into his voice as he speaks, an emotion you were very familiar with.

But that meeting happened weeks ago.

You're sat at one of the back rows of today's AA meeting. You're only looking up at the ceiling as the sob stories of the recovering alcoholics are only boring you to death rather than inspiring you to change into a “better person”. You stare at the flickering light bulb dreading for today’s meeting to end quick. You can't wait to light a new one and find your next fuck that's usually on the L that you take back to your apartment. It's only that you take interest into today’s meeting when you hear glass shattering. You whip your head to the left and see that soul dead man gripping harshly on the collar of a typical addict.

"What the fuck did you say?" You’ve never heard him raise his voice, he was always so quiet and reserved and he always speaks in a whisper.

"You Gallaghers are all white trash, don't know how the fuck your whore of a sister got out of jail, all you fucking Gallaghers deserve to rot at the clink" he's slurring his words, what kind of asshole comes into an AA meeting intoxicated? Your thoughts halt like a train when you see Blondie over there landing a hard hit onto the drunkies's jaw. He collapses on the floor and he’s coughing like a maniac as he's in between laughs, blood leaving his lips like Niagara Falls, you wince at the sight.

"Fucking kill me gallagher, forget you're being recorded by a camera?" The maniac shouts out in between his laughs. The recovering alcoholics are leaving one by one not wanting to be a part of this bloody dispute, and you're pretty sure one of them are calling the police, if not a drug dealer, this situation seems normal to relapse in your eyes.

His blue eyes whip to the corner of the room and he looks back at the drunkie with eyes that speak louder than the punch he landed that echoed around the room.

"You're a fucking lucky man, if I ever see you again...you are a fucking dead man"

He enunciates the last five words before spitting on the man's face and the drunkie still can't help but laugh.

Blondie digs into the pockets of his jacket again before leaving and you notice that he’s mumbling something to himself and yet despite the gruesome altercation that you just witnessed seconds ago, you feel drawn to just say something to him, to follow him. You follow your gut and follow his tracks on the way out of the building with your own hands dug deep into your jeans, but the pockets of a woman's jeans can only go so far. Your platform boots are thudding on the hard pavement as you exit the building where the meeting was held, you see him leaning on the wall to your left where the stained white paint of the building walls are only deteriorating.

You look at him and see a cigarette in between his lips as he mutters a quiet “fuck” that you can read from his occupied lips.

"Need a light?"

He looks at you for a second and doesn't reply to you, but instead leans his mouth towards your hand that's already raised up with a lighter attached to your fingers and you find yourself lighting his cigarette. It's only after the puff of smoke that exits his lips that he decides to talk.

"Thanks"

You both sit in the awkward yet comfortable silence as the lights of Chicago fill in the awkward atmosphere for you.

"Name?"

"Y/n"

"Philip, call me lip"

You nod your head before asking him the very obvious question that's been weighing the back of your head.

"What the fuck happened in there?"

Lip shrugs as another puff of smoke exits his lips before he looks at you to give you a brief explanation.

"drunkie Talked shit about my family, didn't know he was drunk until I punched him"

Silence took over the atmosphere again, the Chicago lights now struggling to save it.

"Why are you here?"

You've been dying to ask him that the moment you had laid your eyes on lip.

"None of your damn business is why I'm here"

He states with venom laced into each word and he says it quickly. You didn't say anything to anger him, you didn’t give out a remark to piss him off yet he's spoon feeding you a comment that makes you scoff and you're thinking about walking away. But you're entitled and egotistical ass won’t let you leave until you spew something nasty back.

"Well fuck you lip, just starting small talk cause I can't help but notice we're the only fucking loners in that shithole, guess you can't seem to pull your head out of your ass."

"I hope you enjoyed your cigarette lip"

You last managed to say as you enunciate his name, popping the p before walking away.

"My toddler of a brother got into my sisters fucking coke and he’s having seizures left and fucking right, I don’t know who the fuck bailed my bitch sister and I have no fucking idea how I’m going to pay for my brothers medical bills, you- you fucking happy?"

There's so much anger and hate in his words. But you're just so fucking egotistical that instead of walking away and feeling any sense of remorse, you turn around and see lip whose twisting his heel on the cigarette that you lit for him.

"Just because you gave me a light doesn't give your entitled ass the right to know shit about me"

You furrow your brows.

"I was only being nice-"

"Nice my fucking ass, you just want to get a fucking egotistical boost from the sob stories that you want out of me, is- is that it?"

Lip says unstable, your face is twisted and turned into confusion, not understanding how the fuck he's pulling words out of his ass.

"I don't know what the fuck I said to you to piss you off but-"

"Oh, go fuck yourself" he yells and he kicks the metal trash can near him, the clanging of the metal hitting the building wall and tearing the thin paint startles you and your heart starts fucking pounding.

And it all clicks.

His face is flushed red and sweating, his eyelids are drooping against his blood shot eyes and you see him stumbling after he kicked the trash can.

He's fucking drunk.

The two of you are looking at each other, panting. One in intoxication and the other in vexation.

You slowly back away while you're shaking your head ever so slowly. You can't help but think how fucking stupid you were for thinking that maybe you could have another chance at life with a random guy you found intriguing at an AA meeting- heck, wanting to pursue something of anything with a recovering alcoholic was already the first mistake. But now you're just standing there, wondering why the fuck you wanted to be a part of this shit in the first place.

"Go get some help lip."

_______________________________________________

Thank you for readingg!

#lip gallagher #shameless #fanfic #oneshot #alcoholism #rehabilitation #phillip gallagher #shameless us #please dont flop #first fic #alcoholics anonymous #lip gallagher x reader #x reader #cigarettes #angst #lip gallagher angst #lip gallagher imagines

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thereyoflights · 5 months

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Bareback, a Gallavich drabble for this week’s @galladrabbles prompt by @ohkate — Bareback. It’s been a while since I wrote a drabble for these two, and I’m glad to finally be back!

Rated E, 100 words, 1/1 complete

CW: anal sex, barebacking, unsafe sex, creampie, possessiveness

Read below the cut or on AO3 here.

Ian loves barebacking with Mickey.

It isn’t just how overwhelmingly hot and tight Mickey feels when Ian slides into him that he wonders why they ever bothered with condoms. Or that he knows Mickey can feel the difference, too, with the way his back arches, fucking himself on Ian’s cock, moaning like a goddamned virgin. Or, even, how quickly it pulls an orgasm from them both.

No, it’s that Ian knows Mickey’s gonna walk all over Chicago with his spend leaking out of him for hours to come, marking him wholly his.

And, well, Ian loves that more than anything.

#Gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #mickey x ian #shameless us #gallavich smut #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fic #gallavich fanfic #my fic #bri’s writing #drabble

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bubblegumbarbie33 · 7 months

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I really want to write a Shameless AU where the day after 'Cascading Failures' Mandy wakes Mickey up and is like "Fuck this shit we're leaving" and she has a plan to move in with an Internet friend in Indiana but Mickey physically can't leave because Ian Ian Ian so Mandy takes him to the Gallagher house (where Fiona is freaking the fuck out about getting her kids back) and practically begs Fiona to take her brother in like she took Mandy in (not really because they were always fighting but also Fiona never kicked her out so.....)

Fiona's obviously like "Fuck this BS I've gotta get my kids back" and Mickey says that he'll help. Because he remembers what the system is like. Being alone. Fighting every second of every day. Being in a constant state of fight or flight. And he doesn't want that for Ian. Or any of the little Rugrats.

So he stays in the basement and keeps out of the house whenever social services stop by, and cleans and learns how to cook (pizza bagels and burnt eggs) and Fiona gets him a job (because he's not staying at her house with no money coming in, and Mickey doesn't want to work at the Kash and Grab with no Ian) and he works at the Alibi because his dad doesn't come around too often (he owes too many guys money or they owe him a boot to the face) but when Terry busts through the door Kev shoves Mickey under the bar like a little kid.

Mickey goes to the court hearing, because why wouldn't he? And Ian sees him walk in with Fiona and Mickey's looking at the ground and shuffling his feet because he knows that this is too much. That he's caring too much. But Ian doesn't say anything and just sits, glued to his side, until Fiona finally gets her kids back for good and everyone's jumping up and down and Mickey's just smiling but also a little sad because he's never known a family like this.

And then it's peaceful and domestic for a while, Mickey blends into the family. Makes friends with Kev and V. Becomes an dependable ego-check for Lip, a weird cousin/older brother for Carl and Debbie, a helping hand to Fiona, and a boyfriend to Ian. And it's some cheesy Brady Bunch shit but he lets himself love it because he's gone two decades without feeling safe.

Then, of course, Terry finds him. One of his cousins tips him off. He catches Mickey walking home from the Alibi one night, really lays into him. Mickey tries fighting back but finds himself paralyzed by that old, solid fear in the pit of his stomach. So he's just hit, again and again, in the street in front of the Gallagher house.

Until Fiona's on top of Terry with a bat, and Carl's got a blowtorch, and Lip's calling the cops because getting Terry sent to jail will make everyone's life easier, and Ian's kicking the shit out of him, and Debbie's holding a pillowcase full of bricks but she's more focused on making sure Mickey's cuts aren't deep enough to do lasting damage.

And that's enough to get Terry put away for a while. Tony makes sure of it, as due to some personal revelations he's definitely not a supporter of gay-bashing. And Mickey's lying on the couch, feeling like a sack of shit. A burden on the Gallaghers. He contemplates running down to Indiana, but Mandy has seemed happier based on her infrequent texts and social media posts, and he doesn't want to bother her. Because that's what he is. A bother.

But then Ian's sitting down next to him and turning on a movie. And slowly the rest of the family trickles in. And then it's just a normal night with leftovers and action flicks and Ian's arm wrapped around him. And Mickey falls asleep, knowing that when he wakes up the next day, it won't just be a dream.

#shameless #mickey milkovich #gallavich #ian gallagher #shameless us #shameless au #gallavich au #fanfic #au

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cloudy-em · 10 months

Note

shy reader and lip are my favorite. but i was thinking maybe she’s like that because of family? they’re mean to her so it’s better for her to keep to herself and she doesn’t tell lip anything until he sees it for himself

thank you for the request, anon! I'm thinking northside!reader for this one

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We're walking to my house, the thin layer of snow crunching beneath our feet. Although I'm thankful that my private school allows long pants in the winter time, and that we're provided with a thick knit sweater as a part of our uniform options, I'm still freezing. I don't know how Lip does it. He seems just fine with his jeans and layered flannel.

"You cold?" He breaks the comfortable silence, and I nod, knowing that if I speak, my teeth will clatter together. He pulls me into him, his arm wrapping around my shoulder. It's nice, just the two of us and the snow. It's quiet and peaceful.

We reach my front door and I unlock it, inviting Lip inside. He takes his shoes off and follows me into my bedroom, where he sits on my bed. It's not our usual routine. Normally I prefer going to his house, but my family was going to be home early because of some special news coming from Harvard University for my sister. Lip decided yesterday he would spend time with me until he had to sneak out of my window so I'd be on time for dinner.

I sigh, joining Lip on my bed, Wuthering Heights in hand.

"Read to me?" I mumble. He's prepared for the question, and no matter how many times he smiles and says yes, I'm still a little embarrassed. It's easier when he reads to me because I can hear his voice reading the lines in my head. He smiles like he usually does, leaning back and taking the book from me. I lean against him, listening as he reads.

"Y/N!" I hear my mom call from downstairs. I look at Lip apologetically, telling him I'll be right back. I trudge down the stairs, trying to delay whatever my mom has to say. I walk into the kitchen, joining her and my siblings. Oh joy.

"Why didn't you put the dishes away?" She asks, annoyed at my presence. I can feel myself fold in slightly, ready for whatever the family wants to pile on me.

"I- I'm sorry, mom, it's just that the oceanography club ran late-" she cuts me off, not needing to hear my explanation.

"I don't care what happened, Y/N. You have these things to take care of because the rest of us are doing more important things. Your father and I both work full time jobs all day. Your brother is a football captain, and your sister is president of the debate team. They have well-fulfilled, promising lives in front of them. What do you have? A weird obsession with fish."

"I concur," my sister chimes in. "Are you like, attracted to them?" My brother laughs, joining in on the game. "Probably, I mean it's not like she's pretty enough to date a human!"

They continue to take turns, finding whatever flaws they can to comment on. I shrink into myself, waiting for them to get distracted by their own arrogance and start talking about themselves.

This moment comes like it usually does, but never fast enough. I walk away as quietly as possible, and return to my room. Lip looks at me, his eyes searching mine. He still has Wuthering Heights open, his thumb and index finger holding the spine open to the page we left off on. He places the book face down beside him on the bed, silently opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. Without hesitation, I take my spot in his arms as he pulls me into his chest, stroking my hair softly. I try to bite back my tears, but a few escape, and suddenly he has tear stains on his shirt.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he whispers to me, swaying slightly. "I didn't know. We'll figure something out, 'kay? No reason you can't come stay with me. The kids love you, and Fiona'll come around when we tell her what's goin' on. You and me, right?"

I smile slightly, nodding against him. "Right."

#fanfic #writing #shameless #ian gallagher #shameless us #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #phillip gallagher #fiona gallagher #debbie gallagher #liam gallagher #comfort #fluff

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bawlbrayker · 4 months

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A little teaser for my upcoming fic 😊

I had some amazing art made by the incredibly talented @sweetperversiongirl who made the image in my head come to life.

Ian followed Mickey down the short hallway, admiring the strong back and pert ass covered in blue denim. They entered the bedroom, and Mickey turned to toss the black bundle at Ian, hitting him fair in the chest. “What’s this?” “While you were being all Mario Batali and playing chef, thinking with your wallet and your stomach, I was thinking with my dick, and grabbed these.” Ian shook out the bundle, unrolling a pair of leather chaps. He flipped them over in his hands to confirm… yep… assless leather chaps.

#Leather chaps #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless us #gallavich fanart #gallavich fanfic

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bl00d-bunny · 1 year

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rock bottom - lip gallagher

-pairing- lip gallagher x fem!reader

-summary- after bumping into lip on the street, you catch up and realize lip isn't doing too good. for this request here

-warnings- angst, vomit/throwing up, alcohol abuse, smoking (w33d), drinking, shameless activities lol,

-word count- 2k

Friday nights for you were always the same. After clocking out at work, you’d stop at your local shop to buy a pack of smokes and some beers before heading home to your couch. You liked the routine, it was like self-care to you. Instead of spending the weekend partying as you used to, you’d spend the weekend alone, watching sitcom reruns with a beer.

As soon as you stepped out of work you were on autopilot. You knew what to expect, Friday nights were always the same. You’d get the train, then walk to the same shop, wave at the same shopkeeper, walk to the same fridge, and get the same beer, before walking to the counter to buy the same smokes and then walk the same five minutes to your apartment.

You liked the repetition, it was a time for your brain to switch off, almost like meditation. As you paid the shopkeeper, whose name you really should know by now, you heard the bell at the door. You thanked the shopkeeper, like always, and stuffed your change into your purse.

Someone bumped into your back, sending the coins in your hand skidding across the counter. Picking up the coins you see their beige jacket heading for the booze, you roll your eyes.

Unfortunately, this was also part of your routine, living in a not-so-nice neighborhood meant that there were always junkies, or drunks, in their own world focused on their next fix. You didn’t mind them in all honesty, although you wished they had a better sense of direction.

You are clumsy enough as it is, you didn’t need any more help with being knocked over. Making sure you had all your money, you waved to the shopkeeper before heading out.

Outside the shop, you wrapped your coat across your chest hoping to keep the cold air out as you opened your new packet of cigarettes. Pulling a lighter out of your pocket, you spark a cigarette. You hear the shop bell not far behind you, pocketing your lighter you start to head for home.

You aren’t far from the shop when you hear a voice behind you, “Mind if I bum one of those?”

You turn to find the owner of the beige jacket behind you, but under the glow of the street lamps, you can’t be sure you recognise them.

“Lip?” You take a step closer trying to verify that it’s really him. It’s his smile that confirms it.

You hadn’t seen him in a while, last you heard he was at college but looking at him now, in the middle of the street, shop lights illuminating him, he didn’t look himself. Maybe it was just the stress of college, but he looked tired and worn, his skin pale, accentuating the dark bags under his eyes.

Pulling a fresh cigarette from the pack you both move closer, handing it to him you grab your lighter from your pocket. Instead of handing him the lighter, you light it, letting the orange flame dance between you. He leans forward, cigarette between his lips inhaling to ignite it.

It’s then you smell it, the sharp smell of alcohol. He smelt of stale cheap alcohol and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on, it was sweet and sour at the same time.

He took a step back, exhaling he thanked you. You shrugged it off, back in the day you two would share cigarettes without even asking. Then you both just stood there, in the smokey silence. You didn’t know what to say, what do you say after it's been so long?

Before you knew what you were saying you invited him back to your place for a beer. You weren’t sure it was the best idea considering you could already smell alcohol on him but you hadn’t seen him in so long and you didn’t know when or if you’d see him again. You could tell he was thinking the same thing, taking his time before he responded. He accepted almost reluctantly.

The two of you walked the short walk to your apartment in silence, the only contact you had was Lip occasionally bumping into you before mumbling an apology. You spent the time trying to think of what to say. You wanted to ask how he was doing but it was clear he wasn’t doing good.

Opening the door to your apartment you immediately regret inviting him over, your place was a mess, and you can’t even remember the last time you cleaned.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” you scrambled to put the dirty dishes in the sink and the trash in the garbage.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs.

Settling opposite each other at the kitchen table you crack open a beer before passing him one, maybe a drink will bring back the sarcastic, flirty Lip you remember. God knows you need a drink.

“So, how have you been, I heard you were at college?” You finally ask, ripping off the metaphorical band-aid.

He looks into his can of beer, not saying anything. Maybe you could have asked that a bit better.

“I- err I was kicked out,” he finally said not looking up.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he shrugged, “I mean I didn’t really want to go in the first place.”

Unsure of what to say, you sip your beer in silence.

“What about you?” He asked looking up from the can between his hands, “I mean you have your own place now,” he glanced around your space.

“Yeah,” you smiled, you loved having your own place, “I’m working at this office uptown, honestly I hate it but you know I’ve got bills to pay,” you tried to keep the conversation going but knew he didn’t want to talk about your crappy job.

“You still smoke weed, right?” Before he could answer you answered for him, “Of course you do, who am I kidding?” You laughed.

Walking to your room you grabbed your stash and made your way back to the kitchen table. Placing your rolling tray down you handed Lip the joint you had rolled before work and began rolling yourself one. You knew a little weed would get the conversation following, the two of you would smoke all summer long before life got in the way.

After a few joints and more beer, the conversation was going just fine, almost like the old days. He told you everything his family had been up to, and you complained about work and your jerk ex-boyfriend.

Somewhere along the way, the conversation deepened, and Lip opened up to you. He told you why he got kicked out of college, that he’s been drinking uncontrollably and he doesn’t remember the last time he’d been home. It broke your heart to see him like this.

Growing up on the southside you knew not everyone would make it out but if you were placing bets, you would’ve bet on him.

Seeing him so lost and broken, it was like looking at a stranger. You tried your best to comfort him but honestly, comfort was never your strong suit.

You were about to roll another joint when you heard the birds chirping outside. You checked your phone before looking out the window. Sure enough, the sky was lightening every so slightly. When you turned to Lip he was pocketing his phone having just checked the time himself.

“Shit, I’m sorry for staying so long, I’ll get going,” he stood wiping the few stray tears from his face.

“Don’t be sorry,” you stood as well, you didn’t want him to leave especially not like this.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I go?”

You pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and began clearing away the empty cans while trying to think of something more to say to him. Once the cans were away and Lip wasn’t back you pottered about tidying up here and there.

When he still didn’t emerge you went to check up on him. Outside the bathroom, you heard nothing, you knocked on the door.

“Lip?” you pressed your ear against the door but still heard nothing.

Twisting the doorknob, the door didn’t open. It should have opened, the lock has been busted since you moved in.

Calling out to him you used all your body weight to try to open the door. You were able to push it just far enough open for you to slip inside, the door slamming forcefully shut behind you.

There on your bathroom floor is Lip Gallagher. He is curled up on the cold tile floor his feet blocking the door. You immediately checked his pulse and breathing, thankfully he has just passed out. And thrown up, there's puke in the toilet and some on the seat. Before attempting to wake him you get a large glass of water and prepare a cold washcloth.

Back in the bathroom, you wipe the puke from his chin before gently shaking him awake. He is barely conscious as he sits up leaning against the bath. You force him to have some water before you quickly clean the toilet.

Now that he is sitting up you notice he has some sick on his coat, that he never took off in the hours he was here. Taking it off and tossing it to the side you realize why there is vomit dried and crusted on his shirt. You close your eyes feeling your heart break even more.

You place your hand on his cheek and look at him, his face pale and sweaty. “What happened, Lip?” you ask knowing he won't answer.

Taking off his shirt, you toss it with his coat to be washed later. Standing you try to wake him enough to get him into bed, he is barely awake by the time you get him to stand up and guide him to the bedroom.

In the bedroom, he flops onto your bed. You remove his shoes and pull his legs onto the bed. Tucking him up in the bed, he begins to snore quietly, you make sure he is on his side and pull your trashcan close in case he needs to vomit again.

Back in the bathroom you put his clothes in the washing machine and took the cup of water to the bedside. You watched Lip sleep for a moment, he finally looked peaceful. You turn to the cupboard to get a blanket and some pillows, so you can sleep on the couch.

“Y/n?” you turn to see Lip hasn’t moved save for opening his eyes.

“Just sleep, Lip,” you close the cupboard and move for the door. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Will you stay with me?” you can barely make out his face in the dark, “please.”

Without saying a word you close the bedroom door, dropping the pillows and blanket at the foot of the bed. Lip shuffles over, making space for you. Once you are in the bed, he snuggles into you, resting his head on your chest. You stroke his hair as you listen to his steady breathing.

When he's finally asleep you place a kiss on his head, “we will fix this, I don’t how but we will. I promise.”

#bunny writes #shameless #shameless imagine #shameless us #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher #lip gallgher angst

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doshiart · 6 months

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“This is totally a bench, right?”[ch.6 on ao3]

Illustration gift for @suzy-queued and her “Under Lock and Key”! Love this story so much!! <3

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jessij1997 · 1 month

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"It's not just about being easy and convenient Debs, it's chemical. Pheromones. A person's scent. You know? You can't fake it."

Lip wents straight into Fionas room, closed the door and Ian went down the stairs. Thought about the words his brother says. Person's scent. He said and Ian struggled around the words.

He always thought it was his behavior he likes about him.

He always thought it was the shit talking he likes about him.

He always thought it was his rare smile and his shy gaze and his body and his hands when they wander over his body, he likes about him.

He always thought it was the thrill of fucking mysteriously under the benches and the hope to be kissed and touched in the way he wants, he likes about it all.

But maybe his brother was right. Maybe it was his scent. The pheromones. Mickey couldn't fake them and neither can Ian.

And so when Carl asked him if he love Mickey, the only thing he has thought about was his smell.

Every time Ian tried to sleep during a manic phase and he layes next to him, he smells Mickeys scent and it calmed him down. Also when he was depressed and layed onto Mickeys pillow. He felt a little bit better.

When Mickey was in prison and Ian have had his damn sweatshirt and missed him he buried his nose into it. Smells Mickey.

And so when he comes back at the dugouts after his escape and he slept with him he smells the pheromones on Mickeys neck. Tried to save them. Failed.

Even when he didn't cross with him the finish line he tried to save Mickeys scent. His personal smell. Mickeys smell.

And now, on their wedding day on the dancefloor with the love of his life in his arms, nose buried into his neck, he admits to himself the smell of him was one of the things he loved the most.

Because he couldn't fake that. And neither can Mickey.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #gallavichedit #ian and mickey #gallavich fanfic #noel fisher #shameless fanfiction #shameless us

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depressedstressedlemonzest · 8 months

Text

Hay It's Getting Cold Out

“The fuck?” Ian’s words stumbled from his lips as he walked into the apartment to find straw littering all over the kitchen floor.

Mickey’s head peeked up from behind the kitchen island and he ducked back down.

“Mickey why does our apartment look like a barn?” Ian walked over to the kitchen island and found Mickey on his knees surrounded by straw and plastic storage bins.

“I’ll clean it up.” Mickey muttered as he picked a knife up and jammed it into the bin, sawing a square into it before punching it through.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked trying not to sound accusatory but not being sure if he was succeeding.

Mickey paused and looked up at Ian, “It’s getting cold out, it's going to get colder this weekend, like below twenty degrees out.”

Ian raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, and we live in Chicago, this happens a lot in the fall and winter.”

“Well, I wanted to do something for Clawdia, but everything I was looking at was super expensive. But then I found this do it yourself thing and it would only cost about ten bucks.”

“Claudia?”

Mickey grimaced, “Clawdia, the cat that has the missing leg that hangs out around the pool in the summer.”

“You named her Clawdia?”

Mickey groaned, “Yes I named her, yes I’ve been feeding her, and no I don’t want her to get cold this winter, so I’m making her this cat house. But when I went to ordered the straw to get delivered I thought a bale was only like a pound or two, turns out it’s a fuckton. So I’m making more than one for any of Clawdia’s friends that get cold this winter and want a nice warm box.”

Ian felt his lips curve up in a smile, “That’s so s-”

“Fuck off Gallagher.” Mickey huffed sinking back down to keep sawing at the plastic bin.

“You know if you wanted a cat-”

Mickey groaned, “Fuck OFF.”

Ian looked at the mess and shook his head, he went to the bedroom and put his phone on the charger before digging into the closet and grabbing another knife from the closet.

He came back into the kitchen and sunk onto the floor across from Mickey.

Mickey eyed him as he grabbed another one of the storage bins and stabbed the knife into the side before sawing a line into it.

Ian glanced up at Mickey and grinned as he sawed the square out of the bin and punched it through.

Together they made six cat shelters, even with each one stuffed full of hay they still had a good amount left over.

“How about we go to the hardware store and get some wood? Make a big shelter for the rest of the hay?” Ian suggested when they finished sweeping and bagging the remainder of the straw up from the kitchen floor.

“I didn’t want to make it a big project.” Mickey sighed tying the bag up and shoving it aside.

“I know, but I’m sure we can budget it enough to make it work, besides what else would we use the hay for?” Ian asked with a laugh.

Mickey smirked, “Well, there is that fantasy about doing it in the loft of a barn in the hay.”

Ian’s laugh slipped from his face and he looked at his husband sternly, “We are NOT putting that hay in our bed.”

Mickey laughed reaching up and cupping Ian’s face with his hands, “C’mon Carrot Farmer, you know you need to make sure the stable hand is doing the chores.”

Ian let Mickey pull him into a kiss before gripping his wrists gently, “No way. Now let’s get these ones out to Clawdia before it does get cold out.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “Spoil sport.”

“Well we couldn’t have done that at a better time.” Ian muttered as he looked at the picture Mickey had sent him.

Clawdia the three legged cat in one of the shelter boxes with four little puffy kittens around her.

“You know, that extra room we have would make a good nursery.” Mickey mused over the phone.

“No way.” Ian’s voice was firm, but when he looked at that photo again he felt his heart melting.

“Only Clawdia, and only her kittens. And once they’re all old enough we’re getting them all fixed.”

“Glad you’re agreeable because I already brought them inside. And since we still had that hay I took out the drawers of the dresser and put some in each.”

#based on the stray cats and the kittens outside my apartment #who we all just want to bring inside and shelter #and we're all sneak feeding them around the cameras that the landlord put out to catch us because he's a dick #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fanfic #ian gallagher loves mickey milkovich #shameless #mickey milkovich loves ian gallagh

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