My dearest, Mickey.

N’dia

[twinklyylights]

Proud (Outro). - Twinklylights - Shameless (US) [Archive of Our Own] 13/13

He’s ready to continue being a husband. To continue loving Ian like it’s what he was put on earth to do.

He’s ready to wake up every day and know that he and Ian have made it. That all the things they’ve been through have been worth it.

He’s ready for year two and all the years that’ll come after that.

All the time they’ve got to spend, falling more in love with each other.

He’s ready for all of it.

Or, the month by month, high and low-lights of Mickey’s second year as a husband.

Read the WHOLE THING on Ao3!

Finally.

[twinklyylights]

is this thing on?

[holmesemrys]

shameless | 10x11 - location, location, location

[oathkeptroxas]

written for the @galladrabbles prompt by @lupeloto

Endure

It’s the sting of tattoo needles across children’s knuckles. It’s the stench of stale whisky on your father’s breath as he curses your name. It’s the paint splatter of blood sprayed over your clothes. It’s the everchanging colours of mottled bruises to your skin. It’s the cold, hard press of a gun in your hands. To grow up Milkovich is to endure, to resign yourself to it.

But suddenly there’s more. It’s gentle kisses to those same bruises, caresses to those same knuckles. It’s the warmth of acceptance. Mickey Milkovich loves and is loved in turn. 

This too will endure.

[slaybey]

CELEBRATING 44 YEARS OF BEYONCÉ GISELLE KNOWLES-CARTER 👑🐝♍ Born on September 4, 1981 in Houston, TX

"I’ve spent so many years trying to better myself and improve whatever I’ve done that I’m at a point where I no longer need to compete with myself. I have no interest in searching backwards. The past is the past. I feel many aspects of that younger, less evolved Beyoncé could never f*** with the woman I am today. Haaa! [...] I’ve fought to protect my sanity and my privacy because the quality of my life depended on it. A lot of who I am is reserved for the people I love and trust. Those who don’t know me and have never met me might interpret that as being closed off. Trust, the reason those folks don’t see certain things about me is because my Virgo ass does not want them to see it... It’s not because it doesn’t exist!"

[paunchjournal]

Claudia sketches

[gallapiech]

🍻

[absoluteconceptofbeauty]

i want a mysterious source of income

[zannolin]

damn i wish u guys could read this fic i haven't written and this fic i haven't finished writing and this fic i'm putting off outlining and this fic i outlined but haven't started and this fic i'll never write and this other fic i haven't written and this fic that exists only in vague impressions in my head that fall apart every time i try to commit them to the page and th

[s-lycopersicum]

stay still, i'm copying you to my pc

[opheliaandthesun]

Galladrabbles - Crimson v2

I said I was thinking about a 2nd entry but I was convinced I wasn't gonna do it. Alas, here I am! I'm loving everyone's interpretations so much but no one did my 1st idea so I have to. The execution is not the best but whatever

Thanks again @galladrabbles and @theluigianapurchase for this weeks prompt <3

________ _______ ________ ________

Red just might be Mickey's new favorite color.

The Milkovich house had always been grey. Blue. Cold.

When Ian came into his life, he'd brought all these shades of warmth he didn't even know existed.

His bright orange curls. His sweet unguarded smile. The rust lining of that worn coat. Soft hands running over his skin. Blood covered kisses. Their joint laughter and rough housing.

Their love was colorful and wild. It was red, like a fucking cliché cartoon heart.

Now, finally, it was warm metal bands on their fingers and the crimson silk sheets on their heart-shaped honeymoon bed.

[notpedropascal]

BEYONCÉ Cowboy Carter and the Rodeo Chitlin’ Circuit Tour, London June 12, 2025

[twinklyylights]

Mickey clocks out of his Old Army shift at 7:02 but doesn’t make to the back door of the Gallagher house until 8:18. His movements are slow and stiff as he brings his key to the lock and twists.

Long. Fucking. Day.  He thinks to himself.

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen to make note of his arrival. But, he can hear that the living room TV is on. He hopes that it’s Ian sat in front of the screen, and not any other members of the family.

When his stomach growls, he groans in annoyance.

He hasn’t eaten since his lunch break early in the afternoon, but he also can’t remember the last time he sat down. 

He’s pretty sure his feet will fall off if he stays on them any longer.

He decides that his stomach will have to wait. 

Ian turns his head at the sound of his boyfriend’s footsteps. He flashes Mickey a brief smile, but it quickly falls away when he takes in Mickey’s demeanor. 

With a groan, Mickey flops onto the couch beside him. His eyes close almost instantly.

“You okay?” Ian asks, as he picks up the remote and pauses the screen in front of him. 

Mickey shrugs. 

“Tired.”

Ian’s hand finds its way to Mickey’s thigh and he gives it a loving squeeze. 

“Ready for bed?”

Mickey shakes his head.

“’Hungry,” he answers through a yawn.

“Debbie made chicken and rice earlier. You want that?”

“Sure.”

Ian’s quick on his feet as he heads towards the kitchen. The bowl of food that he set aside for Mickey earlier is on the counter waiting for this very moment. 

It spends 2 minutes in the microwave spinning slowly.

When he comes back into the living room, he turns on the lamp beside the couch. 

Mickey winces even though the lamp’s light is dim.

“I’m sleeping,” he complains. 

“Nope, not yet. Baby, you gotta eat.” 

Ian sets the bowl down next to Mickey’s feet that are resting on the coffee table. 

Mickey still has his work shoes on, and Ian can’t help but let out a small laugh at the style of them. They’re nothing close to what Mickey would ever choose to wear.

“You gonna sit up to eat?”

“Can’t.”

“You can’t sit up?”

Mickey shakes his head. His eyes are still closed.

“’My fucking feet hurt.”

And even though Ian doesn’t quite understand the correlation, he still nods his head in understanding as he goes to reclaim his spot on the couch. 

“Bring your feet here,” he says. “Let me take your shoes off.”

Mickey cracks one eye open. He looks at his boyfriend incredulously. 

“I’m not a fucking baby. I can take my own shoes off, man,” he asserts.

 Even though he makes no attempt to do so. 

“I never said you were,” Ian shoots back. “Let me do this. Let me take care of you,” he pleads.

The 6 words do the trick and Mickey turns toward Ian. He brings both of his legs to rest in his boyfriend’s lap and Ian does his part to take off the offending shoes. 

“Don’t forget your food,” he says softly. He lets Mickey lean over to grab the ceramic bowl and begin eating. 

“Thanks for saving me some,” Mickey mumbles around a mouthful. 

“’Course.”

With that, Ian presses play on the old Jason Clarke film he was watching before Mickey came home. 

It’s all enough for Mickey to begin to feel the stress of the day leave his body. Enough for him to swallow away complaints of bitchy customers, and focus in on Jeffery Dean Morgan running out of a burning building. 

When Ian’s hand wraps around his foot, he’s caught off guard. 

Initially, he squirms at the contact, but his hesitation quickly morphs into realization and his entire body relaxes.

Ian’s giving him a foot massage.

And while he hasn’t asked for one, he’s already feeling relief from it.

He feels the love in the gesture, too.

He pokes Ian’s belly with his big toe.

“You trying to get laid or something?” 

Ian rolls his eyes. His lips twitch into a smile.

“Laid by the guy that just worked a 9-hour shift?”

As if on command, Mickey yawns in response. He laughs a bit at the irony.

“Man, who am I kidding? I’m so fucking tired.”

And the way he says it makes Ian’s hands go still.

The last couple weeks have been a whirl wind for the both of them. Getting readjusted to everything has been exhausting. And while Ian didn’t exactly have a choice when it came to coming back to the only home he’s ever known, he knows that Mickey doesn’t have to be here with him if he truly doesn’t want to be.

After a beat, Ian speaks again. His voice is timid. 

“Are you still happy to be home?”

Mickey’s face screws up. What kind of question is that?

“You think I’d rather still be locked up?”

Ian blows out a tense breath. The agitation in Mickey’s voice is clear and he internally kicks himself for being the reason behind it.

“No, I just know you’re stressed with work, and parole, and being back here with all of us,” Ian lists off. “I don’t want you to re-”

Mickey cuts him off then. 

“Stop,” he whines, uncharacteristically childlike. “Massage my feet and take me to bed. Don’t start with all that shit.”

Ian does what he’s told. They’re both silent for an awkward moment. The movies still playing. Mickey’s bowl still sat on the coffee table. 

His feet not feeling so bad anymore.

“I want to be here with you,” Mickey promises eventually. “I want everything with you, man. You gotta know that by now.”

Ian sighs.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he confesses. “I wanted you here with me so you could fucking relax for once. Not work yourself to death at some shitty teen clothing store.”

Mickey chuckles. He hears the concern in Ian’s voice.

“Hey man, don’t shit on Old army."

Ian cuts his eyes over to him. He’s got the nerve to look so relaxed despite it all.

“You know what I mean.”

Mickey shrugs.

“It’s not all bad,” he says with an ease that surprises Ian. “It’s been a Hell of a lot worse, don’t you think?”

Ian finally lets himself laugh. 

“Yeah, it has.”

“You gotta stop worrying about everything,” Mickey tells him. “Shit will figure itself out.”

Ian nods in agreement.

 If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared of how things will settle out. But with Mickey sounding so sure about everything, he doesn’t let that fear have too much of a say.

When Mickey yawns again, Ian smiles. He grabs the remote and cuts the movie off without a second thought. 

“C’mon let’s get you to bed. Tomorrow will be here before we know it.”

[twinklyylights]

Mickey clocks out of his Old Army shift at 7:02 but doesn’t make to the back door of the Gallagher house until 8:18. His movements are slow and stiff as he brings his key to the lock and twists.

Long. Fucking. Day.  He thinks to himself.

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen to make note of his arrival. But, he can hear that the living room TV is on. He hopes that it’s Ian sat in front of the screen, and not any other members of the family.

When his stomach growls, he groans in annoyance.

He hasn’t eaten since his lunch break early in the afternoon, but he also can’t remember the last time he sat down. 

He’s pretty sure his feet will fall off if he stays on them any longer.

He decides that his stomach will have to wait. 

Ian turns his head at the sound of his boyfriend’s footsteps. He flashes Mickey a brief smile, but it quickly falls away when he takes in Mickey’s demeanor. 

With a groan, Mickey flops onto the couch beside him. His eyes close almost instantly.

“You okay?” Ian asks, as he picks up the remote and pauses the screen in front of him. 

Mickey shrugs. 

“Tired.”

Ian’s hand finds its way to Mickey’s thigh and he gives it a loving squeeze. 

“Ready for bed?”

Mickey shakes his head.

“’Hungry,” he answers through a yawn.

“Debbie made chicken and rice earlier. You want that?”

“Sure.”

Ian’s quick on his feet as he heads towards the kitchen. The bowl of food that he set aside for Mickey earlier is on the counter waiting for this very moment. 

It spends 2 minutes in the microwave spinning slowly.

When he comes back into the living room, he turns on the lamp beside the couch. 

Mickey winces even though the lamp’s light is dim.

“I’m sleeping,” he complains. 

“Nope, not yet. Baby, you gotta eat.” 

Ian sets the bowl down next to Mickey’s feet that are resting on the coffee table. 

Mickey still has his work shoes on, and Ian can’t help but let out a small laugh at the style of them. They’re nothing close to what Mickey would ever choose to wear.

“You gonna sit up to eat?”

“Can’t.”

“You can’t sit up?”

Mickey shakes his head. His eyes are still closed.

“’My fucking feet hurt.”

And even though Ian doesn’t quite understand the correlation, he still nods his head in understanding as he goes to reclaim his spot on the couch. 

“Bring your feet here,” he says. “Let me take your shoes off.”

Mickey cracks one eye open. He looks at his boyfriend incredulously. 

“I’m not a fucking baby. I can take my own shoes off, man,” he asserts.

 Even though he makes no attempt to do so. 

“I never said you were,” Ian shoots back. “Let me do this. Let me take care of you,” he pleads.

The 6 words do the trick and Mickey turns toward Ian. He brings both of his legs to rest in his boyfriend’s lap and Ian does his part to take off the offending shoes. 

“Don’t forget your food,” he says softly. He lets Mickey lean over to grab the ceramic bowl and begin eating. 

“Thanks for saving me some,” Mickey mumbles around a mouthful. 

“’Course.”

With that, Ian presses play on the old Jason Clarke film he was watching before Mickey came home. 

It’s all enough for Mickey to begin to feel the stress of the day leave his body. Enough for him to swallow away complaints of bitchy customers, and focus in on Jeffery Dean Morgan running out of a burning building. 

When Ian’s hand wraps around his foot, he’s caught off guard. 

Initially, he squirms at the contact, but his hesitation quickly morphs into realization and his entire body relaxes.

Ian’s giving him a foot massage.

And while he hasn’t asked for one, he’s already feeling relief from it.

He feels the love in the gesture, too.

He pokes Ian’s belly with his big toe.

“You trying to get laid or something?” 

Ian rolls his eyes. His lips twitch into a smile.

“Laid by the guy that just worked a 9-hour shift?”

As if on command, Mickey yawns in response. He laughs a bit at the irony.

“Man, who am I kidding? I’m so fucking tired.”

And the way he says it makes Ian’s hands go still.

The last couple weeks have been a whirl wind for the both of them. Getting readjusted to everything has been exhausting. And while Ian didn’t exactly have a choice when it came to coming back to the only home he’s ever known, he knows that Mickey doesn’t have to be here with him if he truly doesn’t want to be.

After a beat, Ian speaks again. His voice is timid. 

“Are you still happy to be home?”

Mickey’s face screws up. What kind of question is that?

“You think I’d rather still be locked up?”

Ian blows out a tense breath. The agitation in Mickey’s voice is clear and he internally kicks himself for being the reason behind it.

“No, I just know you’re stressed with work, and parole, and being back here with all of us,” Ian lists off. “I don’t want you to re-”

Mickey cuts him off then. 

“Stop,” he whines, uncharacteristically childlike. “Massage my feet and take me to bed. Don’t start with all that shit.”

Ian does what he’s told. They’re both silent for an awkward moment. The movies still playing. Mickey’s bowl still sat on the coffee table. 

His feet not feeling so bad anymore.

“I want to be here with you,” Mickey promises eventually. “I want everything with you, man. You gotta know that by now.”

Ian sighs.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he confesses. “I wanted you here with me so you could fucking relax for once. Not work yourself to death at some shitty teen clothing store.”

Mickey chuckles. He hears the concern in Ian’s voice.

“Hey man, don’t shit on Old army."

Ian cuts his eyes over to him. He’s got the nerve to look so relaxed despite it all.

“You know what I mean.”

Mickey shrugs.

“It’s not all bad,” he says with an ease that surprises Ian. “It’s been a Hell of a lot worse, don’t you think?”

Ian finally lets himself laugh. 

“Yeah, it has.”

“You gotta stop worrying about everything,” Mickey tells him. “Shit will figure itself out.”

Ian nods in agreement.

 If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared of how things will settle out. But with Mickey sounding so sure about everything, he doesn’t let that fear have too much of a say.

When Mickey yawns again, Ian smiles. He grabs the remote and cuts the movie off without a second thought. 

“C’mon let’s get you to bed. Tomorrow will be here before we know it.”

[texasbama]

BEYONCÉ  COWBOY ★ CARTER ★ TOUR  East Rutherford, NJ | May 25, 2025

[texasbama]

Beyoncé, Blue Ivy and Rumi Carter Cowboy Carter Tour | April 28, 2025

[eggsdoodz]

rest is productive !!!!