a kingdom for a stage

23 | she/her | mediocre fic writer | follows from matteoamiras | twitter @buzzcutian | ao3

[oforamuse]

how long is too long to reply to ao3 comments?

[mickey-millagher]

The house looked pretty much how he remembered it, not that he’d been round there much. He’d sold to Lip a few times back in high school, met him at the bottom of the garden to avoid his sister or something, he didn’t really care, a sale was a sale.

He’d dropped off some stuff for Mickey once too, back when he’d moved out to stay with his mental case boyfriend. Husband now, if what uncle Ronnie said was anything to go by.

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[unbridgeabledistances]

hi y’all<3 here’s a new section of the gallavich as seen from alternate POVs fic, this time featuring lip!!!! (i wanted to wait til after the ✨lickey drama✨ in the new ep before posting, but then i decided against it bc i didn’t want to re-write this lol)

i started to have way too many feelings while writing this so it’s a little lengthy and contemplative, but rest assured it features some domestic fluff/ian and mickey being disgustingly in love- i hope u enjoy<3

–

Lip shuffled into the kitchen of the Gallagher house, opening the fridge door and reaching past the clanging beer bottles to grab a metal soda can on the way back of the shelf, hearing a faint fizz escape as he popped the tab. It was late, the moonlight streaming in across the kitchen through the worn curtains and pooling on the kitchen floor— after Tami had crashed in their bed at the apartment after a long day at work and Freddie was sleeping soundly in his crib, Lip had come by the Gallagher house, without really knowing why. He just needed to clear his head, to get some distance from Tami and all her relentless nagging about moving and apartment hunting and his colossally obvious fuck-up with the bikes— he just needed some space, some less stifling air to breathe outside of their half-packed apartment crammed with boxes lining the walls.

It was funny; no matter how much energy Lip had poured into he and Tami’s first apartment, into painting the walls and agonizing over their kitchen backsplash like it was his first-born son, whenever Lip thought about home, whenever he felt that pit of uneasiness growing in his stomach and he just needed a place where he could lie back on a couch and loosen the knots in his shoulders and breathe in familiar air that would fill him up, instead of the too-clean smell of Tami’s flowery potpourri that she’d placed on the expensive coffee table in their living room— Lip always found his feet leading him across the slabs of sidewalk and past the chain link fences towards the Gallagher house, no matter the time of night. He had only been in the house for a few minutes before he felt the tight-knit something in his chest begin to unfurl— he didn’t even want to start to think about what was lodged there. This had been a crazy fucking couple of months, and he wasn’t going to start getting sappy about selling the house now, not when they were so close. He’d dug a hole too deep this time, and he needed the money. He couldn’t fuck up again— not with Freddie to take care of. No matter what it cost him.

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[smokey-ilya]

30 for the sentence starters if you feel like it?

“fuck… you look…” // “you gonna finish that sentence?” from @ianmickeygallavich​ sentence starters. it’s a little spicy, but nothing too intense. consider it rated mature and everything is under the cut if that’s not your jam.

-----

stepping out of the shower, ian wraps a towel around his waist and wipes at the foggy mirror. he runs his fingers over his chin and jawline, rubbing at his five o’clock shadow that’s probably closer to midnight. he considers whether or not he should shave, but he figures it can wait another day.

after brushing his teeth, he heads towards their room, pulling back the accordion door to find mickey sitting in bed with his back against the wall. he’s looking at his phone, likely at apartments, which has become his new favorite hobby despite being overwhelmed half the time.

“find anything good?” ian asks, opening the top drawer of their dresser.

“i don’t fucking know,” mickey groans. “we gotta pick a neighborhood.”

“i thought we talked about humboldt park?” ian asks, stepping into a pair of red plaid boxers, throwing his towel into the laundry basket.

“…mick?” he prompts when he doesn’t get a response, turning toward him.

“fuck…” mickey breaths out with the faintest smirk, eyes dark. “you look…”

it’s unspoken, but they both know that ian’s body has changed since they got married. between the stress of quarantine, starting a business, looking for apartments, and fucking terry dying, how could it not? but ian would be lying if he said he didn’t feel self conscious about it at times, worried about what mickey might think. but when mickey blatantly eye fucks him like he is right now, he knows that everything is okay, more than okay.

“you gonna finish that sentence?” ian grins.

“you look fucking hot, ian,” mickey tells him.

he’s not sure if it’s the admission or the use of his name, but ian finds himself quickly pulling mickey down by his legs and crawling over him, their bodies aligning perfectly. he presses his hands into the mattress on either side of mickey’s head, holding himself up.

“yeah? you think so?” he asks playfully, settling his weight down against mickey.

“yeah, i do,” mickey responds honestly, running his tongue over his bottom lip, adjusting to the change in their positions and looking up at ian.

maintaining eye contact, ian drops to his elbows. mickey makes space for him to settle between his legs, letting the redhead’s weight fall against him. ian hears the softest uhh as their hips and abdomens meet, watching as mickey bites at his bottom lip, eyes briefly closing.

ian can feel mickey’s hips start to rock against his own, small coordinated movements. when mickey opens his eyes, ian leans down to kiss him, their lips moving against each other. he can feel mickey’s arms wrapping around him, hands settling on his shoulder blades. he can feel mickey’s tongue seeking out his own, meeting and sliding against each other. he can feel mickey’s blunt nails press into his skin as their kisses get messier.

ian grinds his hips down mirroring mickey’s movements, their growing hard ons separated only by two pairs of thin worn boxers. they quickly develop a rhythm, tongues and hips moving in sync, moaning into each other’s mouth.

ian’s the first to pull back, chests heaving against each other as they try to catch their breaths. he looks down at mickey taking in his pink tinted cheeks and wet kiss swollen lips.

he adjusts his body on top of mickey, causing a few droplets of water from his still wet hair to drip onto his husband’s face. he laughs watching mickey’s nose and forehead scrunch up, one hand leaving his shoulder to wipe them away.

“why do you never fucking dry off all the way?” mickey grumbles.

ian quickly pushes back his hair and smirks, grinding down harder than before. “it bothers you?” he asks, leaning in to kiss at the side of mickey’s neck, effectively ending the conversation.

“fuck,” mickey moans out, hand going to the back of ian’s neck encouraging his movements.

ian works his way up to that spot just below mickey’s ear, placing wet kisses against the sensitive skin. he can feel mickey’s fingers slightly clenching and scratching against him.

“do you guys ever shut the fucking door?” debbie yells from outside their room. ian sits up just enough so he can look out into the hallway.

“fuck off,” mickey yells back, making ian laugh.

after an exaggerated groan and loud door slamming, ian rolls his eyes and turns back to mickey, leaning down to place a quick kiss against his lips. he moves to get up, mickey quietly whining at the loss of contact, and loudly slides the accordion door, enjoying the instant gratification that comes with pettiness.

his eyes catch mickey’s in the mirror above their dresser, a smile creeping over both of their faces, reminding ian that he has nothing to worry about.

[flowercrownilya]

“This place is gay as fuck.” 

“And once again, I gotta remind you that you are in fact gay.”

“And once again I gotta remind you that I’m not THIS –“

“If you say you’re not this gay one more time I’m gonna dropkick you. Also, remind me again who threw a hissy fit about chairs and flowers at our wedding? Definitely wasn’t this gay guy.” 

“Whatever man, why are we here again?”

Mickey looks around the market, warily taking in the vast amount of people wandering around with baskets full of food, fresh produce on display under large white tents.

It looks straight out of a hipster paradise wet dream and his lip curls as he watches two men gush over a display of gourmet cheeses. 

“Remember the dinner party we went to with those other gay guys? I asked them about that duck thing they made since you liked it so much and Brendan mentioned this market is where they bought it from.”

That gets Mickey’s attention. 

“Oh shit, are you gonna make that for me?? Damn, you want me to suck your dick right here? ‘Cuz I will. I will definitely be that kinda gay if it gets me that duck again.”

They venture further into the market, Ian searching for the name of the seller who’s got what they came here for (“It’s called Duck Duck Go.” “That is so fucking gay” “Shut up Mick”). 

As they spot the correct booth, Mickey mutters that he has to piss and wanders off in search of a good spot away from people. 

Ian chats up the vendor, describing the dish they ate that night and is happy to find out that they have it on hand along with the recipe to cook it. 

As he waits for his order to be filled, the slight crowd around him pushes him slightly into the man standing next to him. He moves to apologize when the man says, “Holy shit, Ian?”.

He turns to look at his face, taking in the vaguely familiar Asian man currently grasping a basket filled with vegetables. 

“It’s me, Ralph. From ROTC?” Ian wracks his brain trying to remember anyone from ROTC with that name and comes up empty. 

At the slightly blank stare, Ralph chuckles, then says, “We used to hook up under the bleachers?”

That sparks a look of recognition. “Oh wow man, it’s been a long time, how are you?”

“I’m doing great! Actually just got back from –” 

“Yo, you didn’t tell me there’d be free food at this shit, taste this. Giving that duck a run for its fuckin’ money.” Ian and Ralph both turn at the sound of Mickey’s voice, his hand already out to offer Ian the sample of food he’s got on a little plate filled with various meats.

Ralph does a double take. “Mickey Milkovich? This day just got even crazier.”

Mickey eyes the man standing next to Ian. “Who the fuck are you?” he mumbles, mouth full of food, specks flying everywhere.

Ian rolls his eyes, smiling slightly, then says “He was in ROTC with me.” 

That gets a blank stare. 

Ralph chimes in. “You beat me up under the bleachers?”

“I beat up a lot of dudes under the bleachers, that doesn’t narrow down shit.”

Ian chuckles. “You caught us fucking that one time when you got out of juvie.”

Mickey’s eyebrows raise in recognition. “Oh, bottom bitch. I remember you now.” Ian grimaces at that, eyes glancing at Ralph as he rubs the back of his head. The movement makes his ring glint, catching Ralph’s eye. His eyes travel to Mickey, twin ring sitting on his finger as he picks more meat off his plate. 

“Wait, are you guys married? To each other?”

Ian smiles. “Yep. Surprise surprise, heh.”

Ralph glances at Mickey, considering. “So, beating me up was just a cover then.”

Mickey sneers at that. “Nah man, you were just a weak ass bitch. Nothing to do with you taking it up the ass.”

Ian nudges him with his shoulder slightly. “Yeah ok Mick, we’re married now, I think you can stop deluding yourself and admit you were jealous.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Whatever princess, I’m gonna get more free samples. You two pussies can keep chattin’ the day away.” Mickey flips them off as he walks away, heading for a colorful booth advertising whiskey samples. 

They catch up for a bit before Ian bows out to go find Mickey, chuckling about making sure he’s not terrorizing the other vendors. THAT reminds Ralph of the Mickey he remembers, as he imagines people cowering and handing over gourmet merchandise to a threatening Mickey Milkovich. He watches as Ian finds him at the booth a few feet away, hands coming up to squeeze his shoulders before sliding a hand around to squeeze his chest. Ralph’s eyebrows go up at the kiss he plants on Mickey’s cheek, and the pliant way in which he relaxes into Ian’s embrace. 

He’s far enough away from them that it’s not obvious he’s watching, but Ralph still feels like a creep for staring. 

Mickey Milkovich. 

THE Mickey milkovich is not only gay but MARRIED and it’s currently blowing a small gasket in his head. 

He watches as they laugh together at something, Ian’s hand gravitating to Mickey’s waist to pull him forward, Mickey coming easily. They’re talking quietly now, bodies turned towards each other with the air of two people very comfortable in each other’s presence. 

The quick kiss they share before turning to leave the market has Ralph slightly reeling again, Mickey Milkovich in bright neon letters flashing in his head as he tries to reconcile the thug he remembers to this guy right now who’s currently bumping shoulders with Ian Gallagher as they walk away, sunlight streaming, arms knocking together like they’re close to holding hands. They look happy and, as weird as it is to say, very much in love. Shaking his head, Ralph heads back into the market and thinks, wonders never cease.

[callivich]

Been thinking about Ian and Mickey becoming Liam’s guardians and getting a new place together. Sorta spiralled into a headcanon.

———

“Liam!” Ian called up the stairs, “We’re going out.”

“Ok, bye.” Liam shouted from his bedroom.

“No, you’re coming too. Get down here.”

Liam made his way downstairs, grabbing his coat, a curious look on his face. “Where?”

“Shopping. For our new place.” Ian smiled, Liam looked unsure and Ian couldn’t blame him. He and Mickey had been wrapped up in their own shit lately and he felt terrible that he hadn’t been looking after Liam properly. That was all going to change now. He and Mickey were going to become Liam’s guardians, and after the house was sold, they would move into a new place together. There had been a lot to deal with, a lot of discussion and paperwork, but finally things seemed to be coming together nicely.

Ian was excited to look after Liam, and he was pleased to see how much Mickey was too - he’d been trying to involve Liam as much as possible in the apartment hunting, making sure to always ask Liam what he thought, as well as making much more of an effort to ask Liam about school and find out what he enjoyed doing for fun. It made Ian so happy to see them getting on so well.

And now, they had a date to move into their two bedroom apartment, which meant they needed to get a move on with buying furniture.

“Come on, Gallagher, let’s go.” Mickey tossed Ian his coat, impatient to get going, and they all headed out.

“What do we need to shop for?” Liam asked, walking in between Ian and Mickey.

“New beds. I ain’t sleeping on that piece of shit bed Ian and I have now for any longer than I have to.”

“It’s not that bad. Prison was worse.”

“Yeah, but not by much. I want a big ass bed with a memory foam mattress.”

“Memory foam?” Liam asked.

“I’ve been researching this stuff, it’s one of the best. Like sleeping on clouds or some shit.” Mickey had taken his research very seriously, after all this choice would affect two of his favourite things - sleeping and fucking, so he wanted to get it right. But it wasn’t just that - this would be his and Ian’s bed, the first one they had chosen together, and that was important. It felt like another step in building their life together properly now that they were married.

Ian laughed, “Sleeping on clouds?”

“Yeah. Got a problem with that? You can sleep on the fucking floor if you do.” Mickey reached over and playfully shoved Ian lightly.

“Like you’d cope without me being the big spoon.”

“Fuck off.” He turned to Liam. “Forget you heard that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty skilled at making myself forget things when it comes to you too. But that’s actually kind of sweet.” They turned a corner, arriving at their destination - The Sleep Kingdom, which, according to the sign on the windows, promised that the Sleep King would find you the best bed in the Kingdom or your money back.

“Not sweet.” Mickey grumbled, as they entered the store. “It’s Ian that loves the spooning really, he’s fucking clingy.”

Ian and Liam rolled their eyes, trailing behind Mickey.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sleep Kingdom! My name is Alan, how can I help you today?” They had literally just stepped through the doors when Alan had approached them, clearly desperate for a customer in the otherwise empty shop. It was vast, full of all types of beds and mattresses, each with its own sign and information. It was slightly overwhelming.

“Uh, me and my....uh, husband need a bed, and the kid needs a bed too. And mattresses for both.” Mickey’s eyes darted around the place, and he crossed his arms. Ian couldn’t help but smile. Mickey was still getting used to introducing Ian as his husband, and sometimes he stumbled over the word, especially around strangers, but when he said it, Ian still felt like it was the first time, and he got that wonderful rush of happiness.

Alan the salesman didn’t seem to notice that Mickey felt awkward, instead he gestured towards the beds, “Well, you’ve come to the right place! We have every type of bed and mattress that is available in the Chicago area. Now, let me just get an idea of your sleeping habits. Are you light or heavy sleepers? Do you prefer soft or hard mattresses? Do you sleep on your side, front, or back? How big are your bedrooms?”

Liam, Mickey, and Ian all exchanged glances, surprised at the questions. Alan shook his head, seemingly realising his mistake, “Sorry, we’ve been a bit quiet this morning, I tend to get a bit overexcited when I’ve got new customers. Why don’t you just try out some of the beds and see what you think? If you need me, I’ll be over there.” He pointed to a desk, tucked away in the corner, and headed off.

Mickey elbowed Ian, “Wish we could try some of these out properly. Make sure they’re sturdy enough.”

“Gross.” Liam muttered, wandering away from them, trailing one hand over the mattresses as he went. He called over his shoulder, “Do I get to choose mine?”

Ian and Mickey had already thrown themselves on a bed. “Course. Pick whatever you want.” Mickey replied, as he got up and jumped onto another bed, Ian followed him, collapsing on top of Mickey heavily, both of them breaking into laughter.

Liam turned away and began to study the beds and mattresses. He had just assumed he would be taking the ones he had at home to their new place. It was kinda exciting that he got to pick brand new ones. He made his way to the far end of the store, looking at all the different choices as he went - double, single, king, queen size beds, memory foam, pocket sprung, gel mattresses, and more. He lay on a memory foam one, wanting to know what the fuss was all about. Oh. He turned over onto his side, relaxing into the comfort of the foam. He could understand why Mickey wanted one of these, Liam felt like he could fall asleep right there and then. But the calm feeling disappeared instantly when he began to read the information card attached to the headboard and saw the price. He jumped off the bed and made his way back towards Ian and Mickey.

———

As they lay on the seventh bed they had tried, a queen bed with a memory foam mattress and a modern grey headboard, Ian reached for Mickey’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“Can’t believe we’re buying our own bed together.” Ian smiled, tugging Mickey closer. “Our bed. Together.”

Mickey let go of Ian’s hand and turned on his side to rest his head on Ian’s chest, throwing one leg over Ian’s. “Yeah.” His voice was soft, and Ian could tell he was happy. Ian was pleased the store was empty, apart from Alan who was lounging in his chair engrossed in his phone, so that Mickey felt comfortable being so relaxed. “This memory foam shit is fucking nice, right?”

“Oh yeah, think this might the one.” Ian ran his hand down Mickey’s back. “What do you think of the bed frame? Headboard is nice.” It was a rectangle, made of wood, with a slight curve along the top which, if needed, someone could hold on to without bashing their fingers against the wall.

Mickey reached up and tried to shake it, but it didn’t budge. “Seems pretty strong.”

“Which is good, because when you’re holding on to it-”

“Uh, guys?” Liam interrupted, standing hesitantly at the bottom of the bed. Ian and Mickey broke apart and rolled on to their backs. “Have you seen the prices here? It’s expensive.” He knelt on the bed, in the space between them, looking worried.

“Hey, you don’t worry about that.” Ian sat up, concerned.

“But-”

“I’m serious. That’s our job now. Mine and Mickey’s. Money, food, rent, all that stuff. You don’t need to worry, because we’re going to sort it.”

“Ok.” Liam shrugged, and Ian could tell he was trying to believe him but there was still some doubt there. Which made sense - money worries was one of the many things that had defined their lives for so long. It made Ian’s heart hurt that Liam was still worrying about stuff like that. He wanted his brother to have a fresh start, to feel carefree and like his life was stable.

Mickey sat up as well, resting his arms on his knees. “Yeah, kid, you don’t need to worry about that shit.” He paused, and shuffled back against the headboard. “But, just so you know. When it comes to money, we’re doing good. The business is good, and with our share of the money from the sale of the house, we can afford this stuff. Ok? And we’re being fucking responsible, we’ve got a budget and we’ve been saving. So, just...worry about being a fucking kid or whatever.” Mickey crossed his arms, glancing around uncomfortably, apparently slightly embarrassed about admitting said responsibility.

Ian nodded in agreement. “Things are going to be different now. It’ll take some getting used to, for all of us, but we deserve this. I know it feels like there’s always something bad around the corner, but it’s not always like that. We’ve” - he gestured to himself and Mickey, “got our jobs, the three of us have this new place, you’re doing well at school. Things are going to be alright.”

Liam nodded, there were tears in his eyes, and Ian could tell that he was finally letting himself believe it. “Ok.” He sniffed, and Ian opened his arms for a hug, Liam shuffled forward into his brother’s embrace.

They both looked at Mickey, each reaching out an arm. “Fine.” Mickey sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but he hugged Ian and Liam tightly, so it was clear he didn’t think it was actually that bad.

“Ok, ok. That’s enough.” Mickey wriggled out of their arms. “You choose a bed yet, kid?”

“Well-” There was a little frown on his face.

“And remember, don’t worry about the fucking money, just pick the one you like.” Mickey interrupted, wanting to reassure him.

“There’s a memory foam one over there that’s pretty nice.”

“Fucking told you! Good. Now what size bed you want?”

“Size? A single, I guess?”

“Your new room is big enough for a double if you want?” Ian suggested. “I mean, you can have a single if you want, but you don’t have to.”

Liam considered that, jumping off the bed and onto a nearby double bed. He lay on his back, legs and arms out like a starfish, there was lots of space, he could definitely get used to this. “Ok, as long as we can afford it.”

“Fuck -” Mickey shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Liam, what did we just talk about. Be a kid, ok? Leave the boring money shit to us.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath. “I want a double bed with the mattress from over there,” he pointed, “think it was called the slumber cloud or something.”

“Good fucking choice.” He turned to Ian. “We good with this one? Or you wanna keep looking?”

Ian lay down again, rolling on to his side and then on to his back. “Nah, this is it. This is our bed.” A queen bed, with a wooden headboard, and a memory foam mattress, slightly more expensive than they’d thought but still within their budget.

Mickey grinned, leaning over Ian for a quick kiss, and then sat up. “Yo, Alan,” he called out. “Need some help over here.”

Liam relaxed on the bed, closed his eyes, and listened to Ian, Mickey, and Alan discussing payment and delivery - and the addition of some fancy pillows, because why the fuck not? He began to picture his new room, and smiled. After so much worry and uncertainty about where he was going to live, who was going to look after him, and a lifetime of chaos, it finally seemed like things were going to be good for once. New bed, for his new room, for the new chapter of his life.

[callivich]

🏠?

- a place of their own headcanon.

I totally think their first few days would be weird for them - they’ve got their own place together that’s safe and nice? I think it would take them awhile to adjust to this finally being their life. I totally pictured @wildxwired’s house aesthetic for Ian and Mickey while writing this.

——

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked, sleepily.

“Can’t sleep.” Mickey replied, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“I kinda got that from all the tossing and turning.” Ian trailed a hand down Mickey’s chest, resting it on his stomach.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’ok.” Mickey was still staring at the ceiling. Something was on his mind, Ian knew him so well at this point that he could easily tell. “You....uh, wanna tell me why you can’t sleep?” They had been making an effort to try and talk more, it didn’t always go well, but they were trying.

Mickey was silent for a few moments, before turning on his side to face Ian. “It’s fucking weird. Us having our own place.”

“I know. Doesn’t feel real.” Before being woken by Mickey’s restlessness, he had been dreaming about being back at the Gallagher house, alone, Mickey nowhere to be found.

“Yes. Yeah.” Mickey nodded, pleased Ian understood. “Keep thinking I’m gonna go to sleep and....wake up in prison or back at...” He trailed off, but Ian didn’t need him to finish the sentence, he knew Mickey was thinking of his childhood home.

Ian shuffled closer to tangle his legs with Mickey. “Dreamt I was back at our old place but I was alone and I couldn’t find you.”

“Sounds like a fucking nightmare.” Mickey’s lips twitched into a smile, but his face quickly turned serious again.

“What?” Ian pressed, knowing Mickey was thinking something. “Come on, we said no secrets.”

“I don’t know, man. I just feel like.....” Mickey closed his eyes. “Like the cops are gonna burst in here and haul my ass back to prison or the cartel is finally gonna show up and get their revenge, or....fuck, I dunno, we’ll hate living together.”

“Ok.” Ian pressed a kiss to Mickey’s forehead. “So, unless you’ve done something I don’t know about, the cops aren’t gonna be arresting you. If the cartel hasn’t come after you by now, they’re probably not going to. We survived sharing a prison cell, so we’re not going to hate living together, because literally every living situation you can imagine is better than prison.”

Mickey kept his eyes closed, but he smiled. Ian knew his words had helped. “Not like I haven’t been worrying either. Worrying about getting ill again.”

“Why? You not feeling good?” Mickey’s eyes had snapped open and he was staring at Ian.

“No, I’m feeling fine. It’s just, it could happen again.” Mickey relaxed a bit. “What I’m trying to say is...this place, it’s a big deal, it’s our place together. It’s something good, and when good things have happened in the past....bad things have happened too. That’s probably all it is. We’re just thinking something bad is going to happen because we’re not used to good things without the bad.”

“You learn that shit in therapy?”

“Maybe. Does it make sense?”

“I don’t know.” Mickey reached for Ian’s hand. “I guess.”

“I always dreamed about having a nice place to live with someone I loved. Always seemed unlikely. No matter how much I wanted it.” Ian says softly, it seems easier, in the dark, warm and safe with his husband, to be honest.

“I never even thought about something like this.” Mickey whispers. “Always thought I was....”

“Fucked for life?”

Mickey laughs, “Yeah.”

“I knew you weren’t.”

“Fuck off.”

“When I pictured this, it was always with you.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything and Ian can tell he is overthinking things, worrying about being honest. But finally, he speaks, “Jesus, Ian. Fucking love you.” His voice is strained.

“I know. Love you too.” Ian pulls Mickey as close as possible. “And I know, whatever happens, you and me....we’re gonna be ok.”

Mickey kisses him, and it’s all Ian needs to know that he agrees.

Gallavich Headcanon Meme

[missreinarabbit]

[abundanceofnots]

Fic idea if you’re still take my them! Sandy, Tami, and Mickey drunk at the house one night swapping stories about their dumb Gallaghers. Do they get Mickey a little too drunk and he shares some TMI bedroom things?

Inspired by @milkovichy‘s post, my very own ramblings and this prompt from, like, December (sorry! I’m the worst), I give you this. Set some time after 11×03.

Mickey could hear them all evening, howling with laughter every so often, a low hum of soft rock music trailing behind their voices. Usually, he wouldn’t give a damn. The Gallagher house existed in a constant uproar, and a moment of quiet always felt more tense than calming. 

Tonight was a special night, though. The Gallaghers all went fuck-does-Mickey-care-where for some Frank-related business, and he had the house to himself—well, except for his annoyingly loud cousin and Lip’s baby mama, who apparently decided to have a fucking ladies night in his kitchen.

In all honesty, he found their little unlikely friendship somewhat sweet, but that didn’t matter when their girly cackles kept disrupting his attempt to have a nice long wank over the video that he and Ian filmed on their wedding night. 

His hand was in his boxers, tugging gently at his still mostly soft cock as he watched wedding-night Ian kiss down his naked back, pausing just before the curve of Mickey’s ass to send a cheeky grin down the camera lens when the next barrage of laugher came. Mickey groaned, dropping the phone on his chest. He rubbed at his face and felt his dick lose all remaining interest.

Pulling his sweats on, he figured he could use the time before Ian came back by getting something to eat.

“Well, well, if it ain’t the macho slut himself!” Sandy greeted him from the kitchen table, earning herself and her giggly companion an uninterested middle finger when Mickey passed them on his way to the fridge. “Was almost worried about you last night. You’ve been going at it for a good couple of hours.”

“Oh, please,” Mickey said as he browsed the contents of the fridge. “Last night was nothing.”

“My mistake. RIP to your asshole, by the way.” Sandy muttered, meeting Tami’s eyes for a second. “Hey, you wanna join us? We got some pink stuff that one of Carl’s old girlfriends left behind.”

“Just because I like getting fucked by a dude doesn’t mean I’mma drink some faggy shit.“

“We also got beer.” Tami motioned to the opened six-pack laying on the table before tapping the half-empty bottle standing closest to her reach. “And some whiskey.”

“And some weed brownies,” Sandy added, her smile suggesting she already knew Mickey wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Sold.“ Mickey dropped down on a free chair and immediately reached for one of the brownies, unwrapping it messily from its foil. “But if you start talking about your menstrual cycles or some shit, I’m leaving.”

“Don’t worry. Your fragile soul is gonna pull through this fully unscathed by female agenda,” Sandy shot back, moving one of the beer bottles in front of Mickey. “We were actually just talking shit about the Gallaghers.”

Mickey hated to admit that was a topic he could gladly get behind.

“I could tell you about the first time me and Lip fucked,” Tami suggested as she took a swig of her beer.

Mickey grimaced at her. “Why the fuck would I wanna hear about that?”

“Cuz for a long time after that, I called him Jabby.”

Sandy snorted into her drink.

“Wasn’t that creative,” Tami continued, trying to downplay how proud she clearly was of that nickname. “It’s quite literally what he did—jab, jab, jab. No form, no style. Just jabbing.”

Mickey clanked their bottles together. “I like your style.”

“Did you come?” Sandy asked.

“Fuck no.” Tami scoffed. “But I did puke on his shoes.”

“Judging by Mickey’s face, I don’t think Lip will be able to live any of that down now.” 

“Damn fucking right.”

“Ah, it was a long time ago. He’ll survive.” Tami waved off their fake concern. “I’m kinda mad at him anyway—and surprised I haven’t caught him jerking it to our new kitchen backsplash yet.”

Mickey took a beat before asking: “Fuck’s a backsplash?” 

“The father of my child’s current object of sexual desire.”

Sandy turned to Mickey. “You two ever had any problems in bed?”

“Jesus, no,” he replied, stuffing his mouth with small bits of his brownie. “If Ian were a bad lay, we’d be over before this whole thing even started.”

“Even if it meant he’d never use his ‘giant fucking hands’ to hold you down and pound into you until you ‘moaned all sexy’?” Sandy asked bluntly, struggling to keep her poker face intact.

Tami’s eyes widened. “What the fuck,” she breathed.

“Their door is basically non-existent,” Sandy explained. “We can hear every word they say.”

“Whatever. It’s true. Dude’s hands are fucking massive.” Mickey said, shrugging. “So’s his dick.”

Sandy nodded appreciatively and clanked their bottles.

“Okay, but you got together when he was what, like, fifteen, right?” Tami said. “Lip showed me a picture of them from around that time once. I’m sorry, but Ian was a tiny kid back then. He looked like a frail twig with a mop of ginger hair on top.”

“Yeah,” Sandy chimed in, exchanging a meaningful look with her cousin. “Who could’ve known back then that he was gonna turn into such a hunk.”

Mickey arched his brow, smirking. “What can I say. Guess I hit a fucking jackpot with that one.”

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Fucking Gallaghers.

All Mickey wanted was his coffee. This morning, he’d even rushed through his routine so Ian wouldn’t get on his ass about being late. No way was he leaving the house without caffeine. He’d fucking murder somebody, and then Ian would be an even bigger pain in his ass during visitation hours.

“Just tell him to chill. You are married,” Debbie suggested when he said as much. Because of fucking course the kitchen wouldn’t be empty. Maybe Ian had a point about getting their own place besides their current proximity to Mickey’s family.

Maybe.

“Only shit you get for being married is a ring, power of attorney, and your dad trying to kill you,” he grumbled around a scalding gulp.

It was quiet for a second, which should have been his warning to get the hell out of there.

“Did you know Sandy was married?”

Mickey shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Debbie exclaimed incredulously. “You knew my girlfriend was married and didn’t tell me?!”

“Jesus Christ, I thought you two were just banging.” Not that he fucking cared or it was any of his goddamn business. Couldn’t he just drink his damn coffee? Fuck.

He apparently stumped her, and Debbie stammered, “I mean, we didn’t... We never really talked about... I guess I just assumed we... She said we were in a relationship yesterday, but...”

Where the hell was Ian? He was late for nagging Mickey out of the goddamn house, so now he had to put up with this shit. Fucking figured.

“How did you know?”

Blinking, Mickey asked, “Know what?”

“How did you and Ian know you were boyfriends,” she clarified.

Talk about a loaded question.

“I don’t know, the normal way?”

“You talked about it?”

“Nah. I just beat the shit outta anybody interested in ‘im,” Mickey elaborated with another shrug. Good times.

Debbie paused a moment before musing, “Sandy beat up Julia for me.”

“Mickey! Come on, we gotta go!”

There he was. What the fuck took him so long?

Fucking Gallaghers.

[gallavichy]

COOPERATIVE GAMEPLAY, Chapter 5: Spinning On That Dizzy Edge

At nineteen years old, Ian Gallagher’s stuck. Stuck in a minimum-wage job he hates. Stuck in the same boring routine–sleep, wake, work, take your meds, Ian!, try not to lose it day after day after day. But after his little brother introduces him to MICK MILK, a frustratingly hot horror gamer he watches on YouTube, Ian’s life will never be the same.

#youtuber!mickey, fan!ian, celeb/groupie to FWB to lovers, slow burn, romance ♥️

Chapters: 5/15

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Word Count: 24k

Chapter Summary: Ian really shouldn’t go anywhere with him. It’s Christmas Eve. He should be with his family, watching Home Alone and eating Debbie’s snickerdoodles. He should wake up at seven and be there for the opening of the modest gifts they’d been able to buy or make each other with whatever they could scrape together. He should be there for banana pancakes and kitchen table arguments.

“Uh, yeah,” he finally answers with a shrug. “Cool.”

Fuck it. Merry Christmas to him.

Author’s Note: Thanks so much for reading! ♥️

Click here to read Chapter 5, or here to start from the beginning!

[xgoldendays]

6 & 9!

6. Favourite fanfic? (Or top five if you can’t pick!)

this is where I get bold bc it’s not even finished but Cooperative Gameplay by @gallavichy does something to my soul that I can’t even explain and of course LRPD because we know, we all know. 

(I don’t know everyone’s tumblrs I’m a clown but I’ll link them)

Boy in a Box by mellow_yellow - art, pure art. just genius.  

None the Wiser by @loftec - because it’s the slow burn of my dreams 

Restoration by pink_ink - I actually finished it fairly recent and I indeed loved it very much

I’m blanking so hard but it’s been a long day lol oh and shoutouts to @oforamuse @ianrightsonly @whaticameherefor because they also have beautiful work 

9. Song, or songs, that remind you of Gallavich?

oh god, so many. so so many. I have my spotify is full of playlists that I’ve made for them. right now though, I’ve been replaying The Maine’s cover of ‘You’re Still the One’ because it’s absolutely beautiful. 

[pennybxnce]

writing playlist: on

google docs: open

mind: ready

[ionlywantosleep]

Page: Blank

[rt8815]

Me: offended

[ao3commentoftheday]

50 tips for (fanfic) writing

have fun

write whatever is interesting to you, even if it won’t be interesting to anyone else

appreciate kudos when they come, but don’t expect them

appreciate comments when they come, but don’t expect them

if you wish you could just write that one scene you have in your head, do that. you don’t need to create a 30K backstory for it first.

embrace one shots

embrace drabbles

embrace writing your story out of order

rough drafts are meant to be rough. if you can’t think of a word, put in a placeholder for it and keep going. 

try not to get stuck on the little things

it’s okay if your readers can’t see the picture inside of your head

some people work well when they have a posting schedule. some people work well when they don’t. it’s okay if you don’t know which kind of person you are, and it’s okay if the type of person you are changes over time.

if a rule you created for yourself isn’t working for you, get rid of that rule.

make fandom friends. even if they don’t read your fic, they’ll cheer you on while you write it.

cheer on other writers you know. you’ll be cheering yourself at the same time.

no trope or genre is better or worse than another one. they all just appeal to different audiences.

quality and popularity are not the same thing, although they do sometimes overlap

numbers and statistics will never tell you whether or not you’re a good writer. they will never tell you how valuable you are as a person. 

you belong in fandom if you want to be there

you’re a writer as soon as you start writing things

writing and posting are two different things. your story is still worth writing, even if you never plan to share it

you don’t need to apologize for what you write or what you post. 

don’t worry about taking up too much space. the internet doesn’t have a maximum size. 

keep your readers in mind when you’re tagging your content. how could they search for your fic? if you use a tag, will be a reader who loves that tag be satisfied with how much it appears in your story?

if you have a relationship in your fic that plays a minor role, tag it in the Additional Tags section instead of the Relationship section so that people who love that ship don’t get their hopes up

be cautious when looking at bookmarks on your fic. they aren’t “extra comments.” that’s a space where readers make notes for themselves and each other, not for authors. 

you don’t need to know everything about canon before you start writing fic

you don’t need to read fic in the same fandoms you write for

you don’t need to read fic at all in order to write it

love your work because sometimes you’re the only one who will - and that’s okay

if your hobby starts feeling like a job, you might need to take a break before you get burnt out

if you get stuck on a story, you can always start a new one

if you fall out of love with a story, you can always stop writing it. if you’re worried about your readers, you can always give them a bullet point summary of where you were planning to go with thing. for a lot of people, that’s satisfying and provides closure

if you get hate, report it

use the tools at your disposal to block hate before it can come in (limiting or turning off comments, limiting or turning off asks, blocking users, etc)

try replying to comments sometimes. it can be a lovely way to make fandom friends

don’t be afraid to reblog your own writing posts.

if you get stuck on your summary, just write 1) who the story is about 2) what they are doing and 3) what problem gets in their way

notice when your writing makes you smile. that moment is a gift. enjoy it.

notice when your writing makes you cry. that moment is a gift, too.

even if you’re disappointed in how your story turned out, there’s something in there that’s fantastic. find that thing and focus on it and feel proud.

some ideas are ones you want to write. some are ones you want to read. if you ever have too many ideas to deal with at once, give some of the latter ones away to someone else. 

sometimes the things you write will be really personal. be careful about putting them where other people can comment. they won’t know how personal it is for you, and you need to remember that comments aren’t about you, they’re about the story.

remember that you can write series as well as stories. if the story is done but you still have passion or ideas, start a new one in the same universe.

enjoy the satisfaction of finishing a story. savour it. bask in it a little while.

don’t feel guilty about abandoning a story. not every story gets finished, and that’s okay

you can have separate accounts for different fandoms. you can have one account with a million fandoms in it. do whatever works for you.

sometimes writing is more important than sleep - but only sometimes

it doesn’t matter if that story has been written before by someone else. it doesn’t matter if it was written by you. write it again.

only follow the advice that makes sense to you. the rest isn’t important.

[oforamuse]

please don’t hold me to it

mickey’s not going to force himself into a system that wasn’t built for people like him. a system that doesn’t want people like him.

fuck the legal way – the legal way has never helped him.

11x02 reaction fic

1.9k / ao3

Mickey leaves his meeting with José as smug as the cat that got the fuckin’ cream and then some more. His pockets are a couple of hundred dollars heavier and his ego is inflated in his chest like an eager kid with a party balloon. Kicking the truck into action, he drives North away from the prison with a smirk on his face, the dumpster full of expired food and a happy customer left behind. He plans to dump the truck in a parking lot somewhere on the Northside and hop the L back home. Maybe he’ll even catch a cab – he’s got cash to burn. 

You hear that, Gallagher? He wants to say, your layabout husband has cash to burn. 

He taps the steering wheel in an excited rhythm as he takes a left turn, the panic and anger from his interview earlier has worn off and the adrenaline from proving himself right — and everyone else wrong – has ignited a fire in his bones. 

Take that, Ian.

Take that, Amazon.

Take that, fuckin’ Jerome.

continue reading on ao3 or read 11x01 here

[oforamuse]

my 11x02 oneshot has taken shape :)

[oforamuse]

jdhshdiaksjjds and i will be uploading it tonight, once again, hours before the new episode

[oforamuse]

my 11x02 oneshot has taken shape :)