#IT'S TIME FOR FEELINGS ABOUT THE MILKOVICH SIBLINGS HELLO

[beebabycastiel]

Gallavich 1950s AU??? do tell!!

It was actually my first try at a Gallavich fanfic. I think I even started it before I finished the series (whoops). It's also a fake marriage AU too, because I think of tropes as cheese on a pizza-- we pile it on baby! And just for you, here's a snippet!

In an apartment right on the edge of New City and Fuller Park, a telephone rings. The shrill noise startles a recovering and hugely annoyed girl out of an afternoon nap. Mandy Milk—Gallagher had finally been sleeping peacefully. Finally, she was able to rest without the ever-worried gaze of her dweeb of a husband making her feel too jumpy with guilt to sleep. Not that she should feel any guilt—no matter what anyone says—but still. Mandy tugs her housecoat closer around her skinny shoulders. All the childish excitement of having an apartment with a real-life rotary phone wears off quickly as it continues to trill loudly in the once peaceful apartment.

“Hello?” she answers, not bothering to cheekily answer, “Gallagher residence. Mrs. Gallagher speaking!” like she does when Ian’s family calls or when other random folks somehow ring them.

“Is this Mrs. Amanda Gallagher?” the staticky voice of a male asks.

“Yes? How can I help you?”

“This is Officer A. S. O’Brien at Stateville Correctional Center,” he says and Mandy rolls her eyes. They’re always so self-important. She hums for him to spit it out so she can go back to napping before Ian comes home and watches her like she might start bleeding out again.

“This call is on behalf of Mr. Mikhailo Milkovich. You’re listed as his main contact?” The note of suspicion in his voice sets her teeth on edge. It's as if he can’t believe a nice Irish girl such as herself would have contact with someone with such a Soviet sounding name. Not only did this prick interrupt her nap, but now he’s bothering her about Mickey?

“My brother, yes,” she snips, getting more and more pissed off, “This is not a social call on his end, correct, Mr. O’Brien?”

“Apologies, ma’am,” he blusters a bit. “This is simply a courtesy call to let you know that Mr. Milkovich will be released Friday next rather than his original release date.”

“He’s coming home?” Mandy asks, feeling her face split into a wide grin. “What about Iggy?”

“Well, erm…” he seems to falter then, clearly unsure why she’d be concerned about not only one convicted bank robber but two.

“It seems Mr. Igor Milkovich will remain here until his original release date—barring any other incidents,” Mandy doesn’t waste time stressing on his nasty emphasis on ‘other incidents.’ She’s too excited at the prospect of seeing Mickey after three years.

“Fine, fine,” she brushed him off. Iggy’s always had a taste for “incidents.” Causing them or just being in the middle of them. As long as he lives and isn’t too badly hurt, she knows it won’t do her any good to worry about it.

“But Mickey? He’s getting out? What time next Friday? I’ll pick him up,” she knows she’s talking quickly, but she’s happy. Excited to see Mickey again as Terry never let her visit him once he was locked up. It was half punishment to him for botching a job, and half punishment to Mandy as Terry must have known she’d break and say something about the abuse. As much as the Milkovich siblings all were terrified of Terry, they’d never let him get away with hurting her like that—Mickey and Iggy, especially.

“Yes, ma’am. But I must encourage you to bring a male escort as correctional—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mandy waves her hand, she could write the book on this. She’s probably been in more scrapes than him and the poor sucker she’s finally taking to meet her family.

“My husband will be with me. That is if you finally tell me where I’m to pick up my brother?”

“Yes ma’am. Of course.”

Mandy has to admit, as she scribbles down the details on the notepad they keep near the phone, even if her husband was wholly unattracted to her as a woman (the first man ever, seemingly) there are some wonderful merits to being a missus.

#thank you for asking leigh! #truthfully? #if a bitch could multi-task I would have a all my fics running at once #but I feel like it would drive my wonderful friend and beta nuts #kimber deserves better #my writing #beebabycastiel writes #my wips #gallavich #gallavich fanfic #shameless #beebabycastiel buzzes #WIP asks

[restapesta]

Hi Emina🥰

Mandy finds out about Ian and Mickey earlier than in canon, she’s upset but she doesn’t confront either of them at first. She observes them together when all three of them hang out, and she realises it’s not just some casual thing - it’s serious.

For the prompt ask❤️

Hello Drish! Thank you for the ask -- I loved writing this :)

tw for very mild and short mentions of sexual abuse; other than that, everything is mostly just some light angst. enjoy!

word count: 4.6k

The Choices We Made And The Ones We Could Have Instead by gallavich-x

Looking back at it, Mandy was surprised she had missed it. She also thought that she had to have, most certainly, been the dumbest person alive — dumber than Iggy, even — to miss something that had been so blatantly staring straight at her.

She was surprised she had missed Ian's soft and clearly loving looks — the ones that had never been truly directed at her, although she somewhat hoped they were, still harboring some weird form of a crush on the redheaded boy she had grown to call her best friend; but also aware they simply couldn't have been for anybody else — and yet were always casually thrown somewhere over her shoulder, where, she only now was certain, Mickey probably stood, perhaps gazing softly back.

She was surprised she had confused Mickey's relaxed stance whenever he was in Ian's vicinity to the siblings perhaps getting closer, Mickey finally switching his ice-cold demeanor in place of a slightly more open one. Mandy never would have guessed it wasn't her that made him shed his hard shield, but rather Ian, the one boy who had made her shed her own.

She was so surprised she had missed how Mickey hung around more when Ian was around; how Ian planted himself next to Mickey each time the three of them sat down on the too-small, dirty Milkovich couch to watch a movie together — where each time Mandy wondered why Mickey was there in the first place; why he wasn't making fun of them for watching a kid's movie like Finding Nemo but rather sat down, tightly pressed against Ian, obnoxiously watching it with them. How she so easily wrote off them working together so suddenly, the whole ordeal having to do with Ian liking Mickey enough to put in a good word for him with Linda — liking him enough to not mind working with him. It had been so obvious this entire time, and yet Mandy never seemed to catch on.

Mandy considered it stupid how it didn't take Ian and Mickey's weird proximity to each other for her to finally figure it out but rather a simple accident in which it was so blatantly obvious that her brain couldn't ignore the signs anymore — her best friend and her brother. Together.

Maybe she could blame the ignorance on her unhealthy obsession with Lip and Lip's unhealthy obsession with Karen; perhaps she could blame it on the Milkovich genes for not connecting the dots sooner — it didn't really matter. What mattered was that her brain took its sweet time figuring it out and only managed to finally fucking understand once the whole thing was simply impossible to ignore.

She didn't plan on seeing them in the kitchen that day — it had been an accident; an impulse in which Mandy had picked herself up from the couch to ask Ian something about Lip — just another stupid thing she couldn't help but want to find out about the boy she was falling in love with — and ended up finding out something about the boy she thought she knew everything about. Ian had been gone for only a few moments, declaring how he was going to make them popcorn — the popcorn he stole for them from the store, pretending as if it wasn't that big of a deal; like it wasn't a gesture that had Mandy's heart swell uncontrollably as she gazed at her soft ginger.

Ian was a man like no other — sweet, kind, respectful, good-looking. He was basically perfect when it came to Southside boys, the ones who were born and raised here; he was perfect for Mandy. Years ago, she had tried to lure him in with her short skirts and booby shirts, but that was the first time she found out Ian was nothing like the other boys she knew and had done the same thing with. Ian was something else altogether, a piece of the world Mandy had not yet uncovered — a piece of the world that treated her, for the first time, in a way that felt right.

Mandy was jealous of the guy that had Ian's heart — the one Ian whined and bitched about every other week; the one he talked about with the sweetest of looks on his face every single goddamn day as if the other boy hung the moon and the stars for him. She was jealous another person that wasn't Mandy got Ian Gallagher. She was also certain that in another world — a world where Ian liked girls instead of boys and was able to see Mandy as something more — she would be his perfect match. A Gallagher and a Milkovich; so unexpected, yet so fitting.

Maybe that's why she fell in love with Lip; maybe it was some sort of mind fuck that had her settle for the closest thing there was to Ian, that being his fucking smart-as-a-whip but dumb-as-a-pole brother — or maybe she was just right about Gallaghers and Milkoviches mixing. They went well somehow, like night and day; so different, yet incomplete without each other.

She should have guessed it. If Mandy and Ian were a match in some other alternate universe — a Milkovich and Gallagher pairing done fucking right, unlike she and Lip, and she and Ian — perhaps there was another weird, unbelievable pairing in this one, just that nobody had looked deep enough to find it.

She had neared the kitchen, the question about Lip still in her mind. The kitchen door stood slightly ajar and Mandy halted her steps at the sound of the voices inside — quiet, soft, almost unrecognizable voices. One belonged to Ian, the other to Mickey.

And yet, Mickey's was so unbelievably different from the one she was so used to hearing —instead of  being rough and scary, making Mickey seem as crude and as unapproachable as he truly was —  it was steady, calm, and... Flirty?

Mandy listened through the small gap, not quite able to see them through the slim opening. What she did see was scarce, simply Ian and Mickey standing close to each other — way too intimate for just two people working together at the same store, and simply way too close for friends; not that Ian and Mickey were that. Friends.

If she didn't have ears to listen in to the conversation, she would have written the positions of their bodies as threatening and challenging rather than comfortable and knowing.

Mickey's voice, at the moment, was too quiet for Mandy's liking. She could barely catch on to a thing he was saying, the sentences coming out of his mouth sounding more like mumbles than actual words — but as his hand reached up to fix the collar of Ian's cardigan, moving in even closer towards Ian's bare skin, fingertips tracing his collarbone lightly, and as Ian's breath visibly hitched so that even Mandy could notice his shortage of breath — she knew.

Their eyes never left each other's faces. Their lips didn't connect into a kiss — something Mandy was grateful for, shocked enough and definitely not ready to add that to the list of things she thought she'd never see, placing it right up next to the unicorn she dreamed about having as a kid — but they seemed unnervingly close to it. Too close even, nearing each other like magnets. They only jumped apart when the microwave beeped, signaling enough popcorn kettles being popped to stop exposing them to the heat. Mandy watched as Mickey pulled away even further from Ian as if snapping somewhat out of a daze.

"See you tonight, Firecrotch." He smirked as he headed towards the door. Mandy jumped back from the door, comically throwing herself towards the couch, hoping — no, begging — Mickey didn't figure out she'd seen the entire exchange. When he only passed her with an "assface" in greeting, she knew he had no clue.

And when Ian came back a moment later, a bowl of popcorn nestled in his arms, a blush warming his cheeks, breath ragged, Mandy realized she had seen him this flustered one time too many — and although she usually wrote it off as Ian simply being Ian, awkward and clumsy, cute and all over the place — now she knew.

It had never been the heat of the summer making him warm, sweaty, and dizzy all over.

It had always been Mickey.

When her brother joined them a little while later, plopping himself down next to Ian, even though the seat next to Mandy was closer and much spacier, she finally managed to grasp onto the clues her brother had been unwillingly leaving — everything, from the lack of girlfriends to Ian. It didn't make her feel any less stupid, but it sure as hell made a lot more sense.

Her brother was gay.

She was surprised and slightly disbelieving. How could her brother Mickey, one of the scariest members of the Milkovich family, Terry's favorite son, be gay?

They all had secrets, she guessed, some larger and more terrifying than others.

The light bulb had finally lit up above her head. Mandy knew she was pale as a ghost as she thought it all through, making connections, filling in the blanks, finally making sense of the past three years.

Mickey was Ian's mystery man — the guy he was desperately in love with.

She glanced towards Ian who was subtly — she wouldn't have caught it if she wasn't looking for it — smiling at Mickey, their forearms lightly touching, thighs firmly pressed together on the worn-out couch. She then stole a glance towards Mickey who seemed to be trying to hide a small smile in his beer bottle.

Mandy suddenly felt scared, the realization hitting her with full-blown force. She finally realized what it all meant.

Firstly, Ian was in love with Mickey.

Mickey would break his heart. He, like all of the other Milkoviches, Mandy included, simply wasn't made to love or be loved. Not healthily at least. Not the way you were supposed to.

Secondly, Mickey was gay.

If Terry ever found out, it would be Mandy's, not just Ian's, heart breaking.

The day Terry found out about Mickey would be the day she lost her brother.

You could never say Mandy Milkovich was a particularly observant person, but lately, she was nothing but, practically spending every single moment she spent with Ian and Mickey, whether it be together or apart, studying and analyzing them, trying to uncover more about the secret they shared. She reminded herself of those bird or cloud watchers — the ones that spent hours on end trying to spot different species or shapes, studying them silently and calmly, always being patient, simply waiting for the perfect moment to capture them.

Mandy hated feeling like one of those boring-ass people — it was contradicting towards her personality. She was more likely to be the person who would shoot the endangered bird rather than simply gaze at it. She didn't know if it made her a monster or simply a proud Milkovich.

Mandy was somewhat scared of the answer.

The gazing wasn't directed towards birds or clouds, though — it was Ian and Mickey who were the center of her interest.

They were simply hooking up, she knew — Ian had told her that enough himself.

She was now connecting Mickey to all of the events Ian had told her about his 'secret boyfriend'; Ian never called him that, but she had come up with the nickname after a particularly excruciatingly long story about how the guy had been jealous of the old pedophile— another one of Mandy's nicknames — Ian had been seeing, and how sweet Ian found it.

It was Mickey who had told Ian, only a few months ago, that he was nothing but a warm mouth to him; an event Ian talked about with moisture in his eyes, claiming how, from then on, he'd stay away. It was Mickey who Ian thought hated him and had asked advice about. It was Mickey who Ian spent most of the day daydreaming about, probably doodling his name in his diary or whatever shit Mandy had relentlessly teased him about.

Now, she tried to picture the other stuff Ian told her — she tried to picture the two of them hanging out and having fun, simply enjoying each other's company — Mandy stopped short. She couldn't imagine it. Sure, she'd seen them hang out when they were with her, but the thought of them alone made her squirm in her seat — there was no way they even had anything to talk about. Mickey didn't just chit-chat and he'd probably tell Ian to shut the fuck up the moment Ian opened his mouth to tell another one of those weird Gallagher stories. She just couldn't imagine Mickey simply being friends with someone — hell, she couldn't even imagine him liking Ian enough to even talk to him. It was a fucked up thing to say but everything she knew about Mickey told her so.

Ian didn't seem gay — you probably wouldn't figure it out until he out-right told you or made out with a guy in front of your eyes; but if you knew him, you'd know he was also sensitive and soft in a weird human way, not just in the stereotypical homosexual way. He was different in a good way, understanding things Lip, for example, or any other guy, simply wouldn't be able to.

Ian was just genuinely different. He was a different type of man from the other Southside douchebags — he was different from his own brother who he always compared himself to.

But she couldn't see that sort of personality working well with Mickey, who was mostly just the exact opposite.

Ian was simply just Ian, and Mickey was akin to an antonym.

And she could definitely see Ian falling in love with Mickey, trying hard to figure him out, crack open his hard, rough, and calloused shell and look deep into his soul, searching for his hidden, golden heart.

But Mandy knew Mickey (at least she thought she did but the gay thing made her genuinely wonder how much she knew after all), and she knew her brother wasn't the 'baddest', meanest asshole on this side of the Chicago river, but he most certainly wasn't far from it. He was crude, brash, rude, and violent, all of the greatest qualities a Milkovich could possess — he was Terry's pride and joy, his prodigy son who'd definitely go places. In Terry's mind going places meant either running drug ops or serving time in federal prison for murder — in Mandy's mind, Mickey's too probably, that was nothing but a wasted life. But Mickey had never trailed off of the path Terry had drawn for him. He never stopped following in his footsteps.

Mandy knew he couldn't, not really. Just like she couldn't stop Terry when he walked into her room drunk some nights, doing something to her she tried to pretend wasn't a big deal, that it didn't matter — but she could hope that her brother, the one closest to her age, the one she liked the most, the one she looked up to more than she wished to, would be the one who made it out of this hell hole. Would make it out and go somewhere new, somewhere where he could learn to love a man beyond just fucking, learn to treat him better than he was treating Ian — better than Mandy knew he was treating him.

She knew Ian's heart was fragile, torn apart by so many awful, creepy men who wanted him for nothing more but his body. He didn't need that from Mickey too — Mickey who had already said it once; Mickey who would not hesitate to beat the redheaded boy up for even mentioning the word gay in his presence, in context to Mickey or not.

Ian deserved better.

Mickey did too.

Mandy glanced through the Kash 'n Grab window, making sure to stay inconspicuous and subtle as she observed what was happening inside the store. She had come here for a reason — she needed to see it again, confirm it with her own eyes; confirm that her eyes hadn't deceived her that day in the kitchen; that Ian and Mickey have truly been 'together' all this time.

She also needed to find the strength to confront them, simply stop pussying out each time she thought about opening her mouth to tell Ian she knew, to tell Mickey his secret was safe with her —  whenever she tried to confront Ian and warn him about Mickey, the man she knew he was, and whenever she tried to confront Mickey and warn him about Ian, and what type of man she knew his heart couldn't handle, that type being Mickey — she just couldn't.

Through the dirty windowpane, Mandy saw Mickey sitting on a stool, flipping through the pages of a magazine —  she guessed it had something to do with guns or naked chicks, considering how most of Mickey's reading material usually did. His gaze was turned downwards, his security vest wrinkled against his oddly clean shirt — he had been taking showers lately. Mandy wondered if it was because of Ian who was behind the cash register. Mandy wondered how they still hadn't noticed her — it wasn't as if the posters hung on the window next to the store's entrance were much use for a good hiding spot. Nevertheless, she was thankful for the coverage — at least it wasn't obvious she was stalking.

Still, Ian's eyes weren't focused on a magazine or a textbook or even her spying through the glass — those beautiful green orbs were focused solely on Mickey, inspecting his face and body, not even in a sexual way; it was simply just Ian memorizing every single line of Mickey's bruised-up, scowl-etched face. He was gazing softly at him, a look she had seen one too many times on Ian, whether it was when he was describing an amazing night he had spent with his mystery man to Mandy, or simply describing how much progress the two of them were making — how real it was becoming. How sweet his lover was.

Mandy knew Mickey was anything but sweet.

She guessed love made people think and do crazy things. Things a sane person with a clear mind wouldn't even think of doing. She blamed it all on the weird hormones the body produced when you were supposedly in love — they made the brain fuzzy, filling it to the brim with just thoughts about him and him and him.

That's what she felt like with Lip. That's what she didn't want to feel with Lip because it was what he felt with Karen.

Love was an interesting thing.

It was obviously very much incompetently blind.

Mandy was snapped out of her daze when Mickey's eyes caught Ian's from across the store.

Mandy held her breath, expecting Mickey to snap, to yell at Ian like she imagined he had so many times before this one. She was waiting to see, up close in person, how Mickey would manage to shatter another piece of Ian's heart, all until there was nothing more to break. When she saw his lips move inaudibly, she focused her gaze on Ian's face, instead, not wanting to see the angry expression, sometimes so akin to Terry's. But Ian's face didn't fall; it didn't turn his soft gaze and even softer smile into an expression so hurt it was painful to look at it — instead, he lit up.

But it was when Mickey smiled back that she realized how stupid she really was. Iggy had nothing on her, really — she was as dumb as they could get.

Mickey's smile was not just a smile -- it was a full-blown grin, wider than she'd ever seen on his young, yet unbelievably grumpy face, stretching impossibly on his face, white, slightly crooked teeth glinting in the summer glow. It was absolutely beautiful. Mandy had never, in her entire life — perhaps not since they were little kids, still not aware of the big bad world — seen him smile so brightly, his face lighting up more than Ian's. That was when Mandy remembered the small smiles Mickey had been sporting this entire time, when he was deep in thought at the kitchen table, thinking nobody was looking; or when he was texting somebody with his newest burner phone, covering genuine laughs by pouring beer down his throat, then smiling some more.

Mickey didn't stop smiling; not as he nodded towards the door, eyes still locked on Ian's, making Mandy's eyes widen; not when Ian was jumping out of his seat to, Mandy presumed, lock the door so they wouldn't be interrupted; not when Mandy, while fleeing away from the window so she wouldn't be caught, saw out of the corner of her eye, Ian pushing Mickey deeper into the store, their lips pressed carelessly against each other.

The smile ingrained itself into Mandy's brain, and she knew it would become a memory she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

Her entire perception of what Ian and Mickey supposedly were suddenly shifted. She could see it now — she could finally imagine the stories Ian had told her, she could imagine the two of them just kind of working together, opposing personalities and all — she finally thought she actually managed to figure it out.

Maybe it wasn't just Ian being in love with Mickey.

Maybe it was Mickey being in love with Ian too.

When Mandy tried to ask Lip about Ian and his mystery boyfriend, trying to determine if he knew who it was, she wasn't surprised when he didn't tell her, when he didn't even try to make decent, languid conversation with her, his fucking girlfriend.

"It's kind of, um, brother stuff, you know? I can't just tell you." He said absentmindedly as he ran his fingers through the pages a book he had stolen from a nearby bookstore — something random and unimportant that he read instead of college applications — and she hoped, for a few moments, that he would tell her something more. That Lip would trust her enough to let her in on some small part of the secret — would tell her whether he knew who the guy even was.

He didn't.

Mandy wondered if Ian told Mickey more; if he let Mickey in on all of his family's biggest secrets. She wondered if they talked about Lip and Mandy and what a shitshow they were; if they laughed at them — at Mandy — for trying so hard when Lip didn't even care.

Mandy didn't know the answer, but she knew that the answer didn't even matter — Lip had never smiled at her the way Mickey smiled at Ian.

That was all she really needed to know.

The rest of the summer was a blur of messy pregnancies, even messier breakups, and crazy weddings — Mandy didn't even know how shit had hit the fan so soon.

When Ian came to say goodbye, Mandy tried to stop him; she tried to tell him about the smile she saw, about the Gallagher-Milkovich theory she had — how she believed that, although he and Mandy would have been soulmates in some faraway universe, he was Mickey's soulmate in this one, wedding and unborn baby be damned.

She said nothing, though.

She pretended not to have known all along.

Mandy had thought, before she knew some part of the truth, that Mickey was the type of man who would never cry. That he was like Terry that way — hard as a rock, emotionless.

She had seen his smile. The smile that helped her understand — helped her realize the sad truth.

The sad truth that Mickey was in love, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. That she had never seen him smile as bright as he did that day. That he had never seemed more relaxed than he did that one afternoon in the kitchen, running his fingers over Ian's body so gently, staking his claim with softly whispered words. That she had seen Ian gaze softly back at him. Laugh with him. That she had witnessed, unaware, Ian cracking open Mickey's hard exterior, pushing his walls down so hard that they probably wouldn't come back up no matter how hard Mickey pushed.

She had been so consumed with Lip and Karen, with her own love — unrequited as it was — that she missed the one that mattered; the one that she could have helped flourish if she had tried, instead of putting all her efforts into Lip who didn't even care. Perhaps she could have stopped Mickey from sleeping with that whore and knocking her up; perhaps she could have told him what she wanted to tell Ian weeks later; perhaps she could have stopped the wedding.

But she didn't.

As Ian stepped outside and hugged Mandy goodbye, apologizing for not telling her sooner and having her find out the way she did, promising her that if he could he would have told her from the start, she understood that they had all made choices they now wished they hadn't.

What was life if not a series of choices, whether they be as simple as choosing breakfast, or as complicated as telling someone the truth? And you could choose every single one of the choices presented to you — if you thought you couldn't, you'd just taken the easy way out. She wondered what would have happened if they had the balls to choose the things that mattered to them, and stopped caring about what the world forced them to believe was right and wrong. All she did was wonder.

They could have all done different things. What they couldn't do is change it now.

She told Mickey he was a pussy. It was like looking in a mirror.

She pretended not to hear him cry that night, as she held back her own tears, afraid, so afraid, that she had lost somebody so close to her, somebody who understood, somebody who cared — Ian wasn't coming back, was he? Ian was long gone, on a bus to base camp, ready to get shipped off to some unknown place where he'd probably die within a second of stepping on the battlefield.

He could've chosen to stay and fight on this one.

He didn't.

Milkoviches and Gallaghers mixed, somehow attracted to each other like magnets — but perhaps they simply mixed with Ian Gallagher the best. Maybe Milkoviches and Gallaghers were just all doomed to fail. Mandy didn't cry over Lip, although she knew she would eventually.

But she cried over her best friend.

Mandy knew Mickey was doing the same.

All this time, Mandy was sure Mickey would break Ian Gallagher's heart.

She just didn't know Ian would end up breaking Mickey's too.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey #mandy milkovich #Lip Gallagher #mandy and lip #outsider pov #fan fic #gallavich fan fic #based on a prompt #based on an ask #answered #Shameless US #shameless fic #gallavich questions

[labelma]

all the pain of yesterday

Read on Ao3

When the call comes, it’s a surprise. 

Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is. 

“Hello, is this Fiona Gallagher?” 

Somehow, Fiona just knows. She doesn’t know how or why, but...

“Yes this is her.” 

The woman’s voice is soft, but clear, there’s quiet murmur in the background, it reminds Fiona of every time she got a call from the police station, the hospital, the school. For a moment, she feels like she’s 21 again, scared, alone, at her wit’s end, trying to hold everything together, scraping by with the skin of her teeth, always one wrong step from a catastrophe. 

There is a split second of silence where Fiona knows this is it. Whatever the woman has to say- there’s no going back from it, as soon as the silence breaks. And it does. 

“This is Brenda at Kindred Hospital South, your father Frank Gallagher was brought in experiencing hypoxia, disorientation and a high fever,” 

This is it 

“We regret to inform you that we did-“ 

This is how it happens

“Everything we could-“ 

Fiona’s blood runs cold, 

“But your father passed away this evening at 8:46 from complications due to Covid-19.” 

She knew it was coming. They all did. Frank had been dancing with death for years, how he had even managed to hold on for so long was beyond her. 

It seemed that Frank’s luck had finally run dry. 

“Would you like to make arrangements? If not we would be happy to help…” 

Fiona isn’t listening. She tells the nurse to do whatever they need to do before hanging up. 

She surprises herself when she feels tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she clenches her jaw. They won’t fall. She won’t cry over Frank. Not anymore. Not ever. 

She takes a moment for herself, a moment to breath, a moment to consider the fact that she’s now lost both her parents, even if she lost them both years ago to drugs, to the bottle, to insanity. 

She takes the briefest moment to grieve what could have been before stopping herself. 

What’s done is done. 

Her parents made their decisions, and she made hers. 

Fiona thinks that at least now Frank and Monica will get to make each other miserable for eternity while they’re burning in the deepest pits of hell. 

Or was it freezing? 

Fiona never paid much attention in church anyway, on those rare occasions they went, usually to sneak bills from the collections plate. 

Phone in her hand, screen still on from the phone call, Fiona realizes she doesn’t know what the next steps are. 

Her instinct is to hop on the L, deal with the situation as it comes, never planning, never even able to plan because of the speed at which things fell apart. Her instinct is to go grab Frank from whatever shithole situation he got himself in, and slap some sense into him. 

But obviously, Fiona couldn’t hop on the L, she was standing in the middle of the street in Chula Vista, California. Gone were the days of running into burning buildings with no forethought. Fiona had her life together. She had a serious job. She wasn’t busy juggling teens and pre-teens anymore. 

And of course, there was no Frank to slap sense into anymore. 

An odd pang twisted Fiona’s stomach at the thought. 

She’s brought back to the presence when someone stumbles into her from behind, 

“Perdóneme,” 

The woman doesn’t look much older than she is, and she’s busy pushing a stroller with one hand, pulling a toddler along with the other. 

Fiona sighs. 

It’s time to face the music. 

She calls her kids. 

<hr>

Arrangements are made. Fiona honestly has very little say in them. 

Frank wanted to be cremated, his family didn’t give nearly a big enough shit to make it fancy. 

He had no possessions of value, nothing to give to his kids other than stained furniture, empty bottles, and trauma.

Really, Fiona is coming back for Liam. 

Fiona was the guinea pig. The oldest daughter, the one who had no one except a wino father and batshit crazy mother to look after her. 

Lip and Ian, born so close together, both so resilient, but still so so young when they first learned the hard way of Frank’s negligence. 

Debbie and Carl, young enough to remember the times before Fiona dropped out of high school and made being a mother to her siblings a full time job. Old enough to remember all the times Frank stole their money, ruined their creations, hurt their very fragile childish feelings. 

But Liam? 

Liam never lived in a world where he had to be raised by Frank of Monica Gallagher. 

And Fiona knows that she wasn’t the best guardian either. She knows that she abandoned him, even though she was the only mother he’d ever known. She knows that she’s done worse things. 

But even when she fucked up, Lip was there to pick it up. And Ian behind him. And now Debbie and Carl are adults too. Liam would be just fine without her in the long run. 

But still. Liam had the good fortune to be born last, young enough to be raised by his siblings, to never feel the sting of abuse and neglect the way the oldest five always had. 

And Frank had always loved Liam, loved him so much. Liam was so kind, maybe even too kind. He loved Frank back, even though they all knew Frank was not deserving of such care from his youngest son. 

So Fiona knew, knew it like she knew herself, that Liam, of all the Gallaghers, was going to be the most devastated. 

And well, she missed her other kids too. 

She hadn’t seen Franny far too long, hadn’t even met Fred. She missed Ian’s wedding, Carl’s graduation from the academy. 

She’d stayed up to date of course, speaking with her siblings on the phone, FaceTiming to see her nieces and nephews, but she knew what it was like in Chicago. If you weren’t there you may as well not exist. 

Fiona liked it that way. 

When her plane had arrived at the San Diego International Airport all those years ago, she almost had a panic attack, nearly booked the next flight back to Chicago. 

It had gotten easier with time. 

For her entire life she’d been so tied to the little house on Wallace, she didn’t know who she was without it. 

It was time to find out. 

And she did. 

She did find out, she found out what she was capable of, she found out how successful she could be, she found out who she was without living her life for her siblings. 

Not that she would ever hold it against them but… She did what she could. It was time for her to live her own life now. 

And for those very reasons, she was terrified of going back to Chicago. 

She was terrified that all the progress, everything she built, all that she’d become, was nothing more than smoke and mist, ready to blow away the minute she arrived in the Windy City. 

Which is why she never visited when Fred was born, or considered flying in to meet him. 

Which is why when she received the surprisingly tasteful wedding invitation to Ian and Mickey Milkovich’s wedding, she regretfully declined. 

She was so scared. 

So scared she would go back and never be able to leave again. 

But some of the fear had worn off over the months. 

Her new life felt less like smoke, and more like a healthy young tree, still growing, but strong enough to weather a storm. 

It was time to return. 

<hr> 

The plane ride feels oddly unceremonious for how anxious Fiona feels. 

She watches as the Southern California coast line disappears from sight as the plane flies eastward, and wonders how she’ll be received when she arrives. 

She doesn’t tell the kids she’s coming for a visit, worried they’ll make a big deal out of it, or worse, do nothing at all. 

Chicago is exactly like she remembers it, and yet nothing like it used to be. Still dirty, windy, freezing, especially after her years spent in the San Diegan sun, but dotted with new boutiques, nicer buildings, fences that don’t look like they’re about to crumble into a pile of dust. 

She has to fight to control her breathing in the Uber back to the old Gallagher house. 

The sight of the sun setting over the familiar buildings of the South Side makes her feel something unidentifiable. 

The house looks much the same as always, if not just a bit nicer due to Lip’s efforts to fix it up. 

She hesitates for just a moment at the front door before turning the handle and walking in, refusing to give in to her doubts. 

The TV is on, as usual. Debbie sits texting on the couch while Franny, much bigger than the last time Fiona saw her lounges on the couch engrossed in the colorful TV show, Carl next to her, also engrossed in the show. 

She hears banging in the kitchen, and she walks towards it to find Lip hammering at the shelving unit, Tami preoccupied with hushing Fred, while Ian and Mickey sit at the kitchen table passing a beer back and forth, talking quietly. 

Fiona is only a little surprised that she hasn’t been noticed yet. She’s quieter than she used to be, and each one of her siblings seems to be in their own little worlds. 

It’s Liam who sees her first as he walks down the stairs, eyes red, looking tired, though his face lights up as soon as his eyes fall on her. 

“Fiona!” 

He runs into her arms, and the tears Fiona has been managing to hold back for days finally fall. She holds her youngest brother, and breathes in the familiar smell of his hair. 

Liam’s shout alerts the rest of the family to her presence, and for a few minutes Fiona is wrapped in hug after hug, feeling laughter bubbling up in her chest. 

It strikes her that even after so long away, she can still read her siblings like a book. 

Lip is tense, she can feel it in the way he hugs her, in the hard set of his features, though Tami seems happy enough. 

Carl and Debbie are both distracted, though the days where she could tell what kind of things they’d be distracted by are long gone. 

Ian looks lighter, happier than she’s ever seen him, and for the smallest moment, she worries that Frank’s death may have thrown him into a manic episode before she notices the way Mickey has his hand firmly planted on his shoulder, and though Fiona was never quite able to trust him in the past, she thinks she does now. 

She holds Franny against her hip, marveling at how heavy she is, while Liam entwines his fingers with hers. 

Fiona gets the sense that she’s missed so much, and yet nothing at all, everyone falling into their familiar roles. 

They settle in with coffee to catch up, Fiona hanging on every word, desperate to soak up everything she’s missed. 

Lip decided not to sell the house in the end, figuring that the value in owning property was worth more than a quick payout which would disappear quicker that you’d think. 

With Ian and Mickey in a new apartment and Frank… gone, the house was quieter, less crowded, a better place to raise two kids, at least until Lip and Tami could afford to move out. 

Debbie had sworn off dating, saying she was sick of dating psycho chicks. Fiona laughs along with her and agrees, dating hasn’t been so kind to her either, but she suspects that Debbie will change her tune when the next person willing to go down on her comes along. She shares that same trait with Debbie, something she’s been trying to work on as she gets older and realizes how fucked up her habits and coping mechanisms are. 

Liam is grieving, and Fiona’s heart aches for him. She cups her hands around his sallow cheeks and as she kisses his face and celebrates when he brushes her off, an embarrassed smile turning up his lips. She knows this is hard on him, Liam being the only Gallagher who truly still cared for Frank in more than just an offhand obligatory way. But she also knows that the hurt will wear off eventually as grief tends to do. Liam is young still, with so so much potential and such a bright future ahead of him. She’s not worried, even if she feels bad for leaving him. 

She tells Liam that before she leaves she’s going to help get him into a good private school. 

He deserves the opportunities none of his older siblings ever had. 

Carl is still Carl, even if he’s trying to be a fine upstanding citizen. Still, she’s so proud he really seems to have made something of himself, even landing a stable union job. 

Ian is happy, so happy, and Fiona lets his infectious joy wash over her. There was a time when Fiona worried for him. Worried he was doomed like Monica. She knew that stats, knew how hard it was for people with bipolar disorder to manage stable relationships, knew the Gallagher history was full of divorces and scorned exes, many of them hers, even without the added bonus of mental illness. When Ian was arrested and sentenced to three to five years in prison, she thought that was the end of any hope he had for a happy ending. 

She’s glad she was wrong. 

She can’t say she’s surprised by the reappearance of Mickey Milkovich in their lives, Mexico and prison be damned. Fiona doubted many things about Mickey, doubted his trustworthiness, doubted his intentions, doubted his stability, and all for good reason in her opinion. But one thing she never doubted was his love for her brother. Well, maybe there were times she doubted it a little, but she’s a cynical person. 

She thinks that Ian and Mickey have the best relationship of any of the Gallaghers, a reality she would have laughed at 5 years ago, but it’s true. 

She hopes that one day she can replicate their success, but she isn’t counting on it. 

Right now she’s just working on learning to accept herself, and all her flaws. 

It’s a process, but she’s getting there. 

<hr> 

Ultimately they decide not to hold a real funeral for Frank, not caring enough to plan one, and thinking Frank probably wouldn’t even want one. 

Instead they congregate in the alley, joined by Kev and V as well as Tommy and Kermit, behind The Alibi to dump his ashes. 

They aren’t so ceremonial, though Liam, with tears on his face does insist on saying a few words. 

The whole ordeal takes no more than ten minutes, and when it’s over, Fiona feels like she can finally breathe. 

Her entire life she was burdened with being her father’s daughter, living under his metaphorical shadow, even when she moved as far away as she could. 

He haunted her every time she had a beer, every time she felt guilt creep in for leaving, every time she felt close to snapping at her new job. 

But now Fiona thinks she can finally let it go, let Frank go, along with all her demons. 

The flight back to feels shorter, or maybe Fiona just feels lighter. Somewhere along the way she stopped seeing Chicago as home, and finds herself eager for San Diego with its sun, beaches, and mountains. Her new home is her little apartment in Chula Vista, so close to Mexico she can cross the border whenever she wants, with her new friends, a new job, and a tan for the first time in her life. 

She isn’t worried about her siblings. Lip is building a life for his new family, Ian is happily married to the love of his life, Debbie is learning and growing, trying to be a good mom to her daughter, Carl has a stable job he loves despite all odds, and Liam is the smartest and most resourceful of all of them. 

They’re going to be just fine. 

And so will she.

#shameless #Fiona Gallagher #gallavich #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #my fic

[loudmouthcd]

introducing . .  MALI CHUSUK . CIS WOMAN . 21 YEARS OLD . HEALTH AND SPORTS SCIENCE MAJOR . GIRLS SOCCER TEAM CAPTAIN .

hello hello !! im so excited to be here ! my name is g , and u can find me on my musings blog @ pocmuzings if u ever want to hmu ! i’m 23 and in the aest timezone , so ill be on at pretty random hours between working my 9-5 ! i’m a cis woman , and use she / her pronouns . i’m a proud brown beautiful woman ( im indian ) !  if u would like my discord , feel free to ask ! i’m a horror movie enthusiast , and would d*e for any poc in the entire world . . 

i’m currently trying to figure out where the heck my sidebar links have gone on this theme . . so pls Bear with me fkjnfnjkfj . ( help . . help . . they’re in the theme preview idk what i did ) 

here’s mali , she’s a muse i’ve always wanted to play but never been able to !

inspiration for her is mandy milkovich from shameless , rosa diaz from b99 , rebeca from elite , kiara from outer banks and viola from shes the man

mali was raised in a house filled with boys , and her father was quite strict and determined . her relationship with her father has never been very personal, but more so almost like a business deal , or like a coach and his student 

mali was quite active as a child , and quite energetic . she was always running around and bouncing off walls - it drove her father wild because he could never make her sit still , whilst also trying to raise her older brothers at the same time

because of this , mali kinda took to her own devices . she was introduced to soccer at school , and that was her first love . she found herself playing it at every lunch break , or rolling the ball under the desk during class time . it helped with her jitteriness 

it took a year or two before her father realised that she was quite keen on soccer , and she was good at it - and he was overjoyed at the talent she had when it came to playing . she was a strong striker and attacker , but she was also quite aggressive and competitive on the field . she didn’t really have much etiquette when it came to the game , and she would play dirty at times . this . . only made her father even happier . suddenly he went from barely noticing her , to being at every soccer practice and game she had . he bought her the best soccer cleats he could afford , and pushed for her to win every game and score as many goals as possible . he went from not being very invested in mali , as the only girl in the family ( he didn’t know what to do with a girl ) , to being her number one fan

at first it was great . . but then . . her father got a little overbearing and controlling. if she didn’t make a shot , she could feel his disappointment radiating from a mile away . if she allowed someone to trip or foul her , her father would berate her in the car for not having been more intuitive . her father pushed her to be more and more competitive and the best she could be . mali still thoroughly loved soccer , but she started to find it slightly draining . 

whenever she had a second of time outside of studying , her father would be making her run drills or shoot goals in the backyard . she never really got a lot of time to be by herself or do stuff she wanted ( like just normal teenage girl stuff . . getting crushes on people , going to house parties , having her first beer . . ) 

mali has spent majority of her time either with her brothers and her father ( the entire house is pure chaos . messy . loud burping . video games . yelling across rooms to each other . there’s constant noise at all hours of the day ) , or hanging out with her fellow soccer team players ( sometimes they got along with mali , sometimes they saw her as too much of a ball hog or taking the game ‘ too seriously ‘ ) . mali hasn’t really had a chance to develop many friendships outside of this , and it’s beginning to really effect her 

mali has decided to take somewhat of a step back from soccer ( and the competitiveness of it ) , but she’s also not telling her father about that . mali misses having FUN with playing , instead of seeing it as a sport and chore .

she also wants to have the full college experience . her entire first year was dedicated to soccer and getting used to college and living out of home for the first time . this new independency is fantastic , but mali has no idea what to do with it . she wants to live . really live . really get the full experience .

mali really wants to be more ‘ feminine ‘ . she wants to know how to do boss eyeliner , and wear pretty dresses with heels . at the moment , her wardrobe consists of baggy sweaters , ripped jeans , and a lot of sweatpants . she finds woman to be so so beautiful . . but looks at herself and sees a Gremlin . . oh to be a Woman . . wow . . 

mali can be described as . . . very very blunt and loudmouthed . a bi disaster . chaotic and messy . competitive and driven , but also very blasé and careless at times ( reckless may be a better word ) . she’s very spontaneous , and always up for literally anything ( if u wanna get a burrito at 2am , mali will come . if you want to roadtrip across the state , mali will ride shotgun . she never says no ) 

mali is very sick of being seen as ‘ one of the dudes ‘ or ‘ one of the guys ‘ , she especially wants to be making more female friends and have more females in her life , because . . she’s literally never had many that weren’t on the soccer team with her , or her own competition !

connections ( but also pls i will fill any connection u WANT )

trainwreck meet trainwreck : give me two disaster bastards ! together they are absolute chaos ! they are very similair in that they are both abrasive and intense and very high energy . they usually will encourage each others bad behaviours or be somewhat of a bad influence to each other 

‘ one of the boys ‘ : give me a male friend who literally sees mali as another one of the guys . it irks mali sometimes and she has to remind them , hey  . . im a girl too , and they’re always like ‘ yeah but ur not a GIRL girl ‘ , and that lowkey grinds her gears . SHE WANTS TO BE A GIRL GIRL

soft females : please . . my god . . give me the softest sweetest gal to mali’s absolute demonic energy

soccer players : 100000% believe mali has challenged ur character to an impromptu game of soccer at one point . it doesn’t matter if ur not in the same league or team as mali . if u play soccer for even one second , she will want to size u up and try Beat u at it . 

childhood friends : i ain’t never seen two pretty childhood friends . . no i’m kidding , but i do love childhood friends so SO much

ride or die : I LOVE RIDE OR DIES . GIVE ME TWO PEOPLE WHO WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR EACH OTHER AT ANY TIME . THEY’D DROP ENTIRE WORLDS FOR EACH OTHER

siblings but not by blood : they bicker , they rant , they get frustrated . . but they always always come back to each other . they can call each other an asshole then text each other ten mins later and be like ‘ taco bell ? :) ‘ dskjnfdnjk

watch it , bitch : mali is . . a Lot . she’s very intense and loud , and she has no manners . she’s very competitive and aggressive at times and i completely understand why that isnt everyones cup of tea ! lets get some negative connections up in here !

bi bi bi : give me hookups . past . present .emerging . future . let mali be a hoe , she deserves it . she deserves the college experience

party in the usa : whos gonna introduce mali to alcohol n partying and having  a Wild As Heck night ?

outer banks : pls pls pls pls PLEASE give me an outer banks - esque squad . total idiots . absolute morons ..  there’s not a single brain cell between them  . . 

mali , you look like shit : please teach her how to not wear the same sweatshirt 10 days in a row . pls clean her up . pls show her how to be Pretty . make her over . . . i beg of u . . 

older sister : honestly kinda like the above plot but i’d love for a Wise Woman to just . . be a mentor and guide to mali and be an amazing friend to her 

GIRL SQUAD : i literally love female friendships so muhc . . its smth that can be so personal . . but really my god . give me and mali a bunch of females in her life , shes never really had that before and she Deserves it 

pain in my ass : they both irritate each other endlessly . they’re both too similair , maybe ,and that’s why they clash . a lot of it is ‘ harmless teasing ‘ and ‘ banter ‘ for the most part , but they literally fight like an old married couple around each other .

#pyrrhic.intro #this is a wild ride its 2am i gotta be up for work in 5 hours #do i hate myself ? absolutely #anyways i adore u all #do i already wanna bring in more chars ? yes #will i try Restrain myself ? maybe . #i will get to starters and intros ASAP

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

The Golden Girl-Lip Gallagher Imagine

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Underage drinking, drug use, sensuality, sexual implications, and language

A/N: Y/O/B/F/N= your other best friend’s name

Sequel: The Morning After

   “Why didn’t I skip class today?” Mandy groaned, throwing her head back.

    “Because if you got caught skipping again, you would get suspended...again,” Lip muttered behind her.

    They were sitting in their eighth period British Lit class while Mr. O’Neil talked about some dead poet. Lip was only paying half attention since he already knew most of the information and he got good grades without even trying. He had a few more important things on his mind like Fiona and his other siblings and the trouble he and Ian could get into over the weekend. However, the other kids in the class could hardly afford zoning out in the way he did. 

    “...and that is how Edgar Allen Poe invented the modern detective story,” Mr. O’Neil concluded with a small smile under his wiry gray mustache. “Now, before you leave, I have to return your midterm essays.”

     “What’s the point? I know I failed,” Mandy muttered.

     “You never know. You could’ve gotten a D this time.”

      Lip smirked as Mandy turned around to slap his arm. It stung a little, but Lip laughed it off. 

       “We can’t all be weird geniuses like you.”

       “Most of you did not seem to grasp the concept I was looking for, which is confusing since all I requested was for you to dissect and analyze a piece of literature we previously discussed in class,” Mr. O’Neil said as he began handing back papers.

        A lot of the kids rolled their eyes, laughed, or groaned when they received their papers. It took a minute for Mr. O’Neil to get to Mandy and Lip.

       “I expect more from you, Miss Milkovich,” Mr. O’Neil said.

        “Have you met my brothers?” Mandy retorted.

        Mr. O’Neil cast a distaste look in her direction, but recovered a little as he handed Lip his paper. “Very good work, Mr. Gallagher.”

        “Thank you, Mr. O’Neil,” Lip said.

         Scrawled on top of his paper was a 90 along with the comment “Good work, Mr. Gallagher. Your input was interesting but the dissections were a bit off.”

          “Not bad, Gallagher,” Mandy muttered.

          “Thanks.”

          Lip couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself. He was always the smartest person in the room, even though the room primarily consisted of idiots. It was nice to be reminded of it. 

          “Miss Y/L/N, I was quite impressed with your work. I have never read such original or thoughtful input on Emily Dickinson.”

          The girl had a small, wan smile on her lips as she accepted her paper. “Thanks, Mr. O’Neil.”

           “In fact, you scored the highest on this assignment.”

           Y/N smiled shyly yet again and muttered a polite “thanks” to the teacher as she placed her essay neatly in her English folder.

           “Looks like Little Miss Perfect beat you out,” Mandy teased in a whisper.

           “I’ll let her have it, this is probably the only pleasure she gets out of life besides reading and studying all the time,” Lip muttered.

             Y/N Y/L/N had to be the most innocent girl Lip had ever encountered and she was also his biggest competition when it came to academic standing. She was smart as a whip, but she didn’t flaunt it like Lip did sometimes. In fact, she mostly kept to herself, save for the two girls Lip saw her hanging around. Y/N was every parent’s wet dream: quiet, polite, kind, and a bit of an over achiever. She was the class president, captain of the debate team, and captain of the girl’s tennis team. In fact, the only trouble she probably got in was for jaywalking. Lip didn’t really have anything against her but he also didn’t really like competition.

           Finally, Mr. O’Neill released them, and Mandy and Lip were the first two out of the classroom.

          “Just admit it, Lip, you don’t like that Goody Two Shoes beat you out for the highest grade,” Mandy said.

          “It’s just a stupid essay, Mandy, besides, getting good grades is probably the only way Y/N could experience an orgasm,” Lip said.

          Mandy burst out laughing and Lip smirked deeply. “That is true, I don’t think Y/N would know what to do with a dick if she ever saw one.”           As Mandy and Lip laughed, they were interrupted by someone running into Lip. 

          “Hey, watch where the f--ck you’re going,” he snapped.

          “Oh, sorry!” Y/N squeaked.

          Lip instantly regretted his words when he saw how Y/N clutched her book to her chest. “It’s fine, forget about it.”           “Hey, Y/N,” Mandy said.

          “Hey, Mandy.” Y/N readjusted the strap of her messenger bag. “Have any fun plans for this weekend?”

          “I might go to a party or two. You?”

          “I am keeping my options open.” 

          “Y/N!” Y/B/F/N yelled from across the hallway.

          Y/N sighed a little. “I have to go, sorry about running into you like that, Lip.”

         “Don’t worry about it.”

          Y/N hurried off to meet her friend on the other end of the hallway and they immediately began giggling together. Y/B/F/N said something to Y/N that made her eyes widen and take a quick glance at Lip. When she saw that he was looking at her, she quickly turned back around to her friend, who began snickering.

           “Hello, earth to Lip?” Ian asked.

          “What?” He turned to face Ian and Mandy.

          “I was asking if we were still going to Rose Martin’s party tonight,” Ian said. 

          “Why wouldn’t we be?”

          “Because it’s in Old Town and we���re south side trash.”

          “Hey, we’re only trash if we think we’re trash, so stop thinking we’re trash,” Lip said.

          “Fine. Now tell me, what had you so distracted that you couldn’t answer me?” Ian asked.

         “Nothing.”

         “Bullsh-t!”

         Mandy smirked. “It was because of her wasn’t it?”

         “Who?” Ian asked.

         “Shut up, Mandy,” Lip said.

         “Y/N, Lip’s got a thing for her,” Mandy said.

         “Y/N Y/L/N? The same girl who cried when Eddie Carver kicked a baby rabbit over the school fence?” Ian asked.

         “That was third grade,” Lip said. “And I don’t like her like that.”          “Why not? Because she’s too good for you?” Ian teased.

         “No, because she’s too f-cking innocent. It would be like being with a little kid all the time,” Lip muttered. 

          “I would believe you if you hadn’t been eye-f-cking her a second ago.”

        Lip didn’t respond, and he didn’t really know why he had gotten so defensive when Ian and Mandy began suggesting that he liked Y/N. He barely spoke to her except in passing and there was no way she would go for a Gallagher of all people. Somehow, he still found himself attracted to her innocent, shy nature. He would ruin her and she didn’t deserve that.

        Late that night, the party was in full swing at Rose Martin’s penthouse in Old Town, Chicago. Her father had won the lottery two months ago, so the penthouse was filled with gaudy art, strange mini statues that were considered art, and stainless, techy everything. Waka Flocka’s “It’s A Party” was blasting through the speakers as teenagers grinded to the beat throughout the penthouse. In the kitchen, a group of people were playing drinking games; the bathroom was dedicated to cocaine; the bedrooms were used for coitus; and the balcony was for the cigarette and pot smokers. Lip, Ian, and Mandy were in the living room in the middle of the chaos, dancing as they drank. Lip was near the threshold of being drunk, but was still in the place where the colorful lights didn’t transfix him and he still had control of himself. 

          “This is the best night ever!” Mandy shouted over the music.

           Ian and Lip shouted in response before they toasted her words and downed the vodka in their cups. It went down smooth since Rose could afford not to scrimp on the alcohol anymore.

         “I love Rose Martin!” Ian exclaimed.

         “You can’t, you don’t swing that way!” Lip shouted back.

         “F-ck it!”

        Lip and Mandy burst out laughing. In the midst of the madness, Mandy ended up grinding with some guy and Ian disappeared. Lip ended up wandering out of the living room and went outside to light up a cigarette. The sky was completely ink black with a few stars scattered in the mix. A few people were smoking pot or cigarettes around the balcony. In the corner was a group of girls wearing short dresses and skirts, giggling. One of them looked extremely familiar to Lip but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She flipped her y/hc ponytail and burst out laughing at something before turning around. Lip nearly dropped his cigarette.

        “Y/N?” he whispered.

        She was wearing an oversized blue button down shirt that managed to accentuate her curves with a pair of black over the knee boots. Her hair was pulled in a ponytail with a few strands falling around her face, which was made up in a tasteful fashion with gold eyeshadow bringing out her y/e/c eyes and blush to compliment her skin tone. She was holding a plastic cup filled with white wine and her friends had sneaky smiles on their faces when they saw Lip.

        “Lip!” Y/N stumbled over to him, managing not to spill a drop of her wine. “It’s so good to see you.”

       “What are you doing here?” Lip asked.

       “Drinking.” Y/N took a long swig of her drink to prove her point. 

       “I can see that, it’s just, this isn’t really your scene.”

       “I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” She managed to smolder at him which managed to both amuse and arose Lip at the same time.

        “How many of those have you had?” Lip asked.

        “Don’t worry about it, Dad, I can handle my alcohol, see?” Y/N downed the rest of her wine and smiled.

         “Maybe you should go back to your friends.”

         “I’m sick of them, I want to talk to you.” Y/N leaned more of her weight into Lip and he paused to grab her. 

          He kept his lit cigarette between his lips as he pulled her to stand upright. “Fine, let’s talk.”

         “Can I try one of those?”

          “Why would you want to smoke?” Lip asked.

         “Because I can.”

          Lip looked at her skeptically before handing her cigarette and lighting it for her. Of course, Y/N almost immediately began coughing, making everyone turn to look at her and Lip. Lip shook his head as he patted her back.

          “You have to inhale deeper before you exhale, like this.” Lip showed her and Y/N nodded before following his lead. “See, it’s easy.”

          “Thanks,” Y/N said.

          “Geez, I feel like I’m corrupting you.”

          “You’re not. I’ve done a lot more than you think I have.”

          “What does that mean?”

         Unfortunately, Lip was interrupted by the strains of “Hips Don’t Lie” coming from inside. Y/N squealed. “I love this song!” 

          She tossed her cigarette down and ground it out with her toe before hurrying inside.

         “Y/N.” Lip got rid of his cigarette as well and followed Y/N’s lead.

         He almost immediately lost her but quickly spotted her dancing with Ian. They had created some sort of salsa two-step that mostly consisted of Ian twirling Y/N around and dipping her. Though Lip trusted Ian, he couldn’t help but feel protective over Y/N. It was strange how worrying about her sobered him up.

          “You’re being ridiculous; you barely know her,” he hissed to himself.

          He decided he needed another drink and headed into the kitchen. That’s where he found Mandy, mixing drinks at the kitchen counter while another group of people played flip cup.

           “Hey, stranger,” Mandy said as she poured a drink into a glass.

           “What made you hide out in here?”            “Tyler Sanders’ hands kept wandering to places I did not want them to. I decided to see how good of a bartender I am.” Mandy handed him the glass she just poured.

           “Thanks.” He took a sip. “Not bad, what is it?”

          “Dirty martini.”

           “Of course. Did you know that Y/N was coming?”

           “No, but I saw Y/O/B/F/N leave the bathroom wiping her nose and figured Y/N had to be around somewhere. She is full of surprises.”

             “Yeah,” Lip muttered.

             “Do I need to make you another drink?”

              “Maybe later.”

             “That sour look on your face wouldn’t have anything to do with Y/N being into the party scene, right?”

             “Not really, it’s just weird seeing her drunk.”

            “I like it, it makes her more relatable. She’s not better than either of us.”

            “Of course she’s not. She goes to a Chicago public school.”

            “True, but maybe you’re so weirded out by it because you liked the idea of her being super innocent and you don’t like that you can’t be her first, well, whatever.”

             He hated how right Mandy was sometimes. While it was kind of cool to see Y/N let lose, Lip kind of liked the idea of making her do something bad just for him. He had no idea when those feelings started but seeing her act so drunk was bringing them out.

            After a couple more drinks, he and Mandy made their way back into the living room, where Y/N and Ian were the center of attention. It made sense since the openly gay Gallagher was grinding with the supposed sweetheart of the south side. 

             “Y/N’s got moves,” Mandy said.

             “Uh huh,” Lip said, trying to ignore the tinges of jealousy creeping up on him.

            However, everything came to a head when Y/N pulled Ian close and they began making out, causing everyone to scream and yell. That was the last straw. Lip quickly broke them up, much to the crowd’s chagrin.

             “What the hell, Lip?” Ian demanded.

            “Ian, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re drunk and you have a boyfriend,” Lip hissed.

            “Not really, besides, Y/N’s a good kisser. Were you jealous?” Ian shot back.

              “Jealous? Why would you be jealous?” Y/N slurred. Then she grinned. “You wanna dance with me, Lip?”

                She wrapped her arms around Lip’s neck and leaned into him. Lip’s arms immediately wrapped around her waist out of instinct but he didn’t start dancing. Mandy and Ian had begun dancing together somewhere else in the room.

               “Y/N, you’re drunk.”

               “I wanna dance.” She turned around in Lip’s arms and began grinding against him, leaning her head against his chest.

               Lip gulped before hesitantly grinding with her, holding her hips and keeping her pressed against him. He didn’t know what got into him but he began kissing down the side of her neck. Then, he turned her to face him and grabbed her face in his hands and really looked at her. Her eyes were completely dilated but she was so beautiful.

                “I can’t do this.”

                 “Do what? Dance with me?” Y/N teased.

                “Not just that, it’s, you’re too perfect. You deserve better than this, better than me.”

                Lip moved to pull away from Y/N, but she grabbed him. Her eyes held a deep sincerity in them, albeit they were extremely dilated.

                 “You’re perfect,” she said with a large smile. 

                  “You’re drunk.”

                  “Yes, but I know that you’re funny, really smart, and loyal, a little impulsive, and a bit self-destructive. And you’re daring and really, really, really hot,” Y/N said.

                  “You really think all that about me?”

                   Y/N nodded. “Ever since second grade, but I thought I wasn’t cool enough for you, but I do go out sometimes and I have made many questionable decisions.”

                  Lip had a lot of questions, a majority of which had to do with what questionable decisions Y/N had made. But, all he could think about was how Y/N thought she wasn’t good enough for him. 

                 “You’re cool in your own way.”

                  “Now that’s a load of bullsh-t.” Y/N started laughing, a sound that made Lip smile.

                 He cupped her face in his hands again and slowly, she stopped laughing. Lip stayed quiet and leaned towards her slowly. Y/N closed her eyes, awaiting to be kissed only to be surprised when Lip kissed her on her forehead.

                 “You missed,” Y/N said.

                 “No. I want you to remember the first time I kiss you and you’re way too sh-tfaced to do that right now. If you still feel the same way about me when you’re sober, we can pick up where we left off.”

                 “But I want you now. I promise I won’t regret it.”

                 Lip didn’t listen to any of her protests as the night went on. So, they continued dancing, earning winks and rude gestures from Ian and Mandy. When the party was over, Lip took Y/N home to make sure she was safe. 

                “But who’s gonna walk you home?” Y/N asked as Lip helped her walk up the steps.

                  “I am.”

                “Why do you get to walk yourself home and not me?”

                “For one thing, I wouldn’t fall if you let go of my shoulders,” Lip said.

                Y/N huffed and leaned against her front door. Lip fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the door for her. 

                “All right, now be quiet. The last thing we need is your parents coming after me.”

                Y/N nodded and wrapped her arms around Lip’s neck, giggling quietly. Before Lip could stop her, she pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek before pulling away. “Good night, Lip.”

               “Night, Y/N.”

               She slipped into her house and Lip closed the door behind her.

               All he could do now was pray that she felt the same way about him in the morning.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher imagine #shameless #shameless imagine #requested

[wellimhavinga3outof10day]

A Christmas Carol Prompt (1/5): Post 5x12, Ian and Mickey break up but he doesn't end up in jail. He will go to Ian (EMT, is with Trevor) after 9 months for telling him that is pregnant and the twins will be born on Christmas Day. Ian doesn't believe that the kids are his, so he humiliates Mickey in front of all his family, Trevor, Kev, V and Svet. That night, he will be woken by a ghost, Mickey's mother. She will make him see his and Mickey's past Christmas.

This is the latest prompt ever and I am so incredibly sorry about that. I hope you like it. I actually really like it. Umm… more apologies and lots of love and enjoy!

Read on AO3

Ian came home from his shift on the ambulance to a room full of his nervous family members. They paced around the living room like they were waiting for a bomb to go off and had no idea how to even try to diffuse it. Ian dropped his bag at the front door and took two steps into the room, trying to see what had thrown everyone off. As far as he could see, there was nothing out of place.

           “What’s going on?” Ian asked.

           “Oh, Ian.” Fiona startled and forced a smile. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

           “Okay… then why are you all standing around the living room?”

           Fiona looked at Lip who shrugged and shot a glance at Debbie. Debbie looked at her feet, Carl followed suit, and Liam glanced around at his entire family like they were insane. Which, Ian thought, they probably were.

           “Got it,” Ian said. “You feel like telling me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

           Before he could take a full step forward, Fiona caught him by the shoulders. “You don’t want to go in there.”

           “Why not?”

           “Trevor’s in there with Kev and Vee,” Lip said, “and someone else.”

           Ian looked between his two older siblings. “Are either of you going to tell me who else?”

           They exchanged a glance. Lip let out a deflated sigh and raised his hands in exasperation. Fiona took the reins, smiled at Ian, and said, “Ian, you’ve been doing so well lately. You’re on your meds and you have a job and you’ve got your life together and we would hate to see you throw that away because… because Mickey’s back.”

           “Mickey’s back?”

           “Yeah.”

           Ian took a deep breath, nodded, and said, “No worries. It’s over between me and Mick. And I’m sure… I’m sure he knows that.”

           “Ian—” Fiona failed to catch Ian again as he went forward.

           Ian could feel his heart in his chest as he entered the kitchen. From the entrance, he could see the back of Mickey’s head, Trevor’s profile, and Kev and Vee’s shocked-but-pleasant faces. He felt his hands go cold, his body start to shake, but he shook it off. Mickey didn’t have any power over him anymore. Not since Ian had finally broken it off. Not since Sammi had come after Mickey and Mickey had ran, never to be heard from again. Until now.

           “Hey,” Ian said. He took quick steps towards the table before he could chicken out and bent down to give Trevor a kiss hello. Then he raised his eyes to look at Mickey.

           A very, very pregnant Mickey.

           “Mick…” Ian swallowed the nausea in his throat. “Congrats.”

           “Thanks,” Mickey said. He sounded anything but happy about it. “Any chance we can talk without the entourage?”

           Ian looked around at the people in the room. True, he didn’t think he had ever had a conversation with Mickey when there were so many people around, but these people were his family. And he needed his family if he was going to get through this conversation without falling right back into Mickey’s arms. Ian shook his head. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

           Mickey glanced at Trevor, rolled his eyes, and said, “Whatever. You’re call.”

           Ian put his hand down on Trevor’s shoulder. “Why are you here, Mick?”

           “It’s not obvious?”

           “Not really.”

           “I’m carrying your spawn, Gallagher. Two of ‘em.” Mickey only allowed Ian a moment of shock before he added, “They’re due Christmas day. And I just thought… well, maybe you’d actually give enough of a fuck to come.”

           “How do I know they’re mine?”

           “We were together nine months ago.”

           “So?” Ian said. He took a step back – from the table, from Mickey, from his burgeoning belly. Now Ian really felt sick. “I don’t know what the fuck you were doing behind my back.”

           “Behind your back?” Mickey scoffed. “In case you forgot, I wasn’t the cheater in our relationship.”

           “This is really the best scam you could come up with?” Ian said. He knew he was scrambling. He knew he sounded like he was scrambling. Because the truth was, part of him knew that Mickey would never have touched anyone else while they were together. A bigger part of him knew Mickey wouldn’t bounce back fast enough to have gotten pregnant right after they broke up. Ian forced himself to breathe. “You get yourself knocked up on some highway and think you can come running back here to me? That I’ll just take you back in the blink of an eye? Do you really think I’m that fucking desperate, Mick?”

           “That’s not what this is at all—”

           “Take your fucking things and leave,” Ian said. “I don’t believe you. And there’s nothing you can say that’ll make me.”

           A long moment of silence followed, Mickey’s blue eyes hardening into walls of ice. Then he nodded, stood up, and flipped Ian off. “I hope you have a nice life, Gallagher. And I hope you don’t mind when I tell your kids you’re a fucking asshole.” Mickey stormed out the back door.

           After it slammed, everyone stood frozen in the kitchen for a moment. Trevor was the first to move. He grabbed his jacket and went for the back door, stopping only when Ian grabbed his hand.

           “Where are you going?” Ian asked.

           “He’s pregnant and alone,” Trevor said, “and you just threw him out on the street. Where do you think I’m going?”

           “No. Mick’s insane. He’s a liar and a criminal and—”

           “And a fucking human being.” Trevor shook Ian off of him. “Think of that while you sleep alone for the rest of your life.” He slammed the door behind himself.

           Ian stared at the closed door, unable to breathe for a long moment. Lip slapped him on the back and oxygen came back into his lungs with a rush. Ian coughed under the weight of it – of Trevor leaving, of Mickey carrying his babies, of Lip’s hand on his back.

           “You made the right move,” Lip said. “Don’t think too hard about it.”

           Ian nodded even though an itching sensation in his stomach told him Lip was very, very wrong.

Ian went to bed that night with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach and the dawning realization that he might never sleep a full night again. He closed his eyes, sure he wouldn’t sleep, but woke much later. The time on the clock blinked 3:00 and, even though he stared at it, the time didn’t change.

           Ian rose to a sitting position to find a woman seated on the end of his bed. She was knitting something in baby blue – a blanket maybe or a shirt for a baby. For a long moment, she didn’t acknowledge Ian and then she turned to him with a soft smile.

           “Ian Gallagher?” she said.

           Ian nodded. He glanced towards Liam and Carl, still fast asleep, neither moving a muscle. Then he looked back at the woman and narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he said.

           “I’m Valeria Milkovich. Mickey’s mother.”

           Ian shook his head. “She’s dead.”

           The woman rose from the bed and spun around. Her dress – a white nightgown – didn’t move with the motion. Neither did her dark hair. When she stopped to look at Ian with that same gentle smile, he could see through her edges and, with a little effort, managed to squint right through her body.

           Ian felt his blood run cold and he shifted back on the bed. If ghosts were real, if the ghost that had decided to visit him was Mickey’s mother, nothing good could come of it. “What do you want?” Ian asked.

           “Nothing sinister, I assure you.” She offered him her hand. “I simply want to show you the past, the present, and the future if you continue your life the way you are now. I want to show you what Christmas has and will look like for both you and my son.”

           “Like in that book?” Ian said. “The Christmas Carol?”

           Valeria smiled. “My ideas may not all be original.” She shook her hand a bit. “Come with me. I have much to show you tonight.”

           Ian hesitated a second longer but looking into Valeria’s eyes – Mickey’s eyes – he found he trusted her. He took her hand.

Ian suddenly found himself downstairs in the Gallagher living room, Christmas morning ten years earlier. He recognized the scene – Fiona with a tray of hot chocolates, Lip and himself on the floor in front of the tree shaking boxes. Fiona set the tray on the table, kissed both of their heads, and went to pick Debbie and Carl up off the couch. She set them down in their brothers’ laps and then sat down herself.

           “All right,” she said. “You can go ahead.”

           “What about mom and dad?” Debbie asked.

           Fiona’s smile almost faltered, but she caught onto it like a pro. She ran a hand through Debbie’s red hair. “They’re going to be asleep for a while, Debs. We may as well go ahead without them.”

           Debbie looked down at her feet, like even at five she could tell that was a lie. Ian didn’t know where Frank and Monica had been that Christmas – they could have been upstairs in their room, sleeping off a binge, or halfway across the country for all he knew – but he remembered that their absence wasn’t uncommon. It hadn’t been his first Christmas without them and it sure as hell wouldn’t be his last.

           Lip pulled the presents out from under the tree. Fiona had made sure to get one for each of them, but hadn’t gotten one for herself. Ian remembered he’d still half-believed in Santa at the time and where Lip could have gotten the money for a gift then… but Fiona smiled through them tearing into the paper like all she wanted was for them to be happy.

           “This was a good Christmas,” Ian said. He glanced up at Valeria. “Why are you showing it to me?”

           “Because this was a good year for both of you. And I want you to see the difference between Gallagher good and Milkovich good.”

           Ian frowned but allowed Valeria to drag him away from the scene before him. They walked through the front door and down the street to the Milkovich house. They entered to see Mickey sitting in the middle of the couch nursing a beer that he’d balanced on his stomach. He was watching the parade on the TV, although it kept cutting out every now and then.

           There were no Christmas decorations anywhere. There were no other Milkoviches anywhere. Ian frowned and whispered, “You left him alone on Christmas?”

           “He offered to stay behind,” Valeria said. “He didn’t want Terry coming home to an empty house and blaming me.”

           Ian shot her a sideways look, but kept his focus on Mickey. “I thought you said this was a good Christmas?”

           “I think it’s one of Mickey’s fondest memories. The first Christmas he saved us from the post-Christmas traditions.”

           “Traditions?”

           Valeria shushed him as the back door slammed open. Terry came in screaming and Mickey flinched but otherwise showed no sign of fear. When Terry rounded the couch and saw the beer on Mickey’s stomach, he flew off the handle. He tossed the beer to the side and grabbed Mickey by the shirt collar. He punched him across the face.

           Ian took an involuntary step forward and Valeria held him back. “You can’t stop this,” she said. “This has already happened.”

           Ian felt sick as he stood there, forced to watch Terry beating on Mickey. When he dropped him, Mickey hit the floor hard, his face a mess of blood and broken bones. Ian wanted to step forward, the wipe off the blood, to do something to help. He was reminded vividly of the night he’d actually gotten to take a swing at Terry and he realized it hadn’t been enough. Whatever he had done to hurt Terry, whatever move he had made, it hadn’t been enough. The man deserved a much, much worse punishment.

           Valeria stepped in between Ian and the scene in front of him. She tilted his chin up to look at her. “We still have more to see tonight,” she said. “Let me take you to the present.”

           Ian almost shook his head. He didn’t want to see the present. He didn’t want to know what other, worse things could be happening to Mickey. But when Valeria cocked her head, gave him a look that very clearly said you owe him this, Ian took her hand.

Once again, Ian stood in the Gallagher living room. He saw himself in the middle of their couch, surrounded by his family while Miracle on 34th Street played in crinkling black and white on the TV. Trevor curled into his side and Ian smiled.

           “I get him back?” Ian said.

           “Mickey let him think you were right,” Valeria said. “He told Trevor it was all a ploy to get you back and Trevor believed him.”

           Ian nodded. When he blinked, the scene disappeared and was replaced with the glaring white of a hospital room. Mandy entered the room holding a cup of ice chips. She sat on the edge of the bed and handed it to Mickey, who took a gulp before going back to his book. A big book of baby names.

           The room was filled with people who loved Mickey – his brothers, Svetlana, even Kev was there. After a moment, Mickey said, “Oliver.” Everyone in the room nodded and agreed. Then Mickey started to flip through the pages, every once in a while throwing out a girl’s name that didn’t quite get the same support.

           After a few minutes, Mandy tapped a page of the book and said, “What about Iris?”

           Mickey smiled and everyone else in the room agreed. Mickey closed the book and put it to the side.

           “He looks happy,” Ian said.

           Valeria frowned. “Does he?”

           Ian nodded. In all his time with Mickey, he’d had few occasions to see the other man truly happy. This was one of those moments. Surrounded by family, picking baby names, Mickey felt loved and safe. There was nothing that could hurt him here.

           “Why would you show me this?” Ian said. “Are you trying to tell me that he’s better off without me? Because while that sucks and everything, I didn’t think ghosts just hung around to rub things in people’s faces.”

           Valeria offered a kind, soft smile, and Ian kind of wanted to punch it off her face. “Christmas future is harder to reach,” she said. “I only have enough power left to show you one – yours or Mickey’s.”

           Ian glanced from her to Mickey. And although his heart ached to see Mickey happy without him, he needed to know if it continued. Plus, he had a feeling seeing Mickey happy would be a hell of a lot better than seeing himself dying in a gutter somewhere. “Mickey’s,” Ian said. “I want to see Mickey.”

           She took his hand and the hospital dissolved.

Ian and Valeria stood in front of a beautiful two-story house in the North side. Christmas lights shone from the roof and a wreath adorned the front door. Mickey’s brothers and sisters walked up the driveway, slipping and scrambling on the ice, trying to keep a hold of the presents in their arms. Mandy stepped forward and rang the doorbell.

           A young boy answered the door. Ian lost his breath at the sight of him. Even at ten or twelve, the boy was a perfect picture of Ian, right down to the red hair and freckles. Even his warm, slightly cocky smile reminded Ian of himself, and he wondered how deep his genes ran. Silently, he prayed that the boy was healthy and would never have to deal with being bipolar.

           “Hey, Oliver,” Mandy said. “You gonna let us in?”

           Oliver took on a serious expression. “Do you have presents?”

           “Good presents?” another voice asked. A girl joined Oliver at the door, looking about as much like him as Mickey looked like Ian. Her dark hair curled down past her shoulders, landing in clumped patches over the purple flowers on her Christmas dress. Her blue eyes blinked up at her aunt. “Because, you know, last year—”

           “I’m not as rich as your dad,” Mandy said. She landed a kiss in Iris’ hair. “Sue me.”

           The kids stepped to either side of the door and let the family file inside. They almost had the door closed when a man reached out to grab it. In perfect unison, they looked up at the man and screamed, “Daddy!” The two wrapped around the man’s legs and Ian felt his heart stutter to a stop.

           The man, whoever he was, was tall, dark, and handsome. He had a slight beard and gelled back hair, even wore a suit that looked much too expensive to be off the rack. He entered the house with a smile, dragging the kids with him, and Ian ducked in the door behind him.

           Inside, the house was decorated with the kids’ crafts, a fake tree, and ornaments that looked like they would break if they were breathed on wrong. The entire Milkovich family fit comfortably in the living room, not a single one of them looking out of place. They all rose to hug the man – Mickey’s husband, Ian assumed – and kiss him on the cheek.

           “Take me out of here,” Ian said, his breath shallow. “I can’t see this.”

           Valeria’s hand came down on his shoulder, a steadying grip. “You haven’t seen it all yet.”

           Ian wanted to protest, wanted to promise he’d seen enough, that he got the message – Mickey minus him equaled good things for everyone – but then Mickey stepped out of the kitchen. He was fatter than Ian was used to and he walked gingerly, like he did when he had injuries he was trying to hide. When he saw the man, his husband, he smiled, but not in the happy way he had in the hospital. Not like he should have. Mickey allowed himself to be kissed but he didn’t look happy about it.

           “What’s going on?” Ian asked. He glanced from Mickey to the kids. “Are they okay?”

           “They’re fine,” Valeria said. “For now.”

           Ian met her eyes and walked closer to the kids. He knelt down before them and they looked right through them. Oliver seemed content to wait staring at the tree but Iris was watching her parents out of the corner of her eye. Her face lit up the second she caught their attention, but in the moment before they did, there was concern in her eyes.

           The day drew on. The kids opened their presents, hugged their aunts and their uncles and their parents. The adults laughed and drank and ate the food Mickey had prepared. As the clock ticked closer to dinner time, the husband led Mickey away from the crowd. Ian took a step to follow, but paused when he saw Iris tug on Mandy’s skirt.

           “Call the cops,” Iris whispered. When Mandy frowned, Iris lifted her skirt to expose the bruises on her legs. “Now.”

           Mandy went white and Ian immediately knew that Iris had told the wrong person. Sure, Mandy would do anything to protect the twins, but she was a victim herself. The flashbacks would hit her hard – too hard for her to do anything fast enough. From the other room came the sound of a crash, a shout, and Iris tugged harder on Mandy’s skirt, begging her.

           “Time to go,” Valeria whispered.

           “No.” Ian jerked away from her, hard. “Is he okay?”

           “That’s up to you.” Valeria’s fingers wound through Ian’s own and the scene flashed white.

Ian woke up to the sound of Fiona singing in the kitchen – something she only did on Christmas morning. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and knew the visceral reaction to his dreams meant that they weren’t just dreams. He looked around for Valeria but didn’t see her. She was gone and it was up to him to save Mickey now.

           Ian jumped out of bed and checked the time. It was only a little before the time of the hospital scene he had seen, so Mickey should be at the hospital. Ian ran down the stairs, made quick excuses to Fiona, and then was out the door before she could say a word. He ran all the way to the bus stop, tapped his foot all the way through the bus ride, and then dashed into the hospital without knowing where he was going.

           He was stopped by a nurse on the fourth floor and after explaining perhaps a bit too much of his current situation, she pointed him towards a room down the hall. Ian thanked her profusely and forced himself to walk the distance to Mickey’s room.

           The door was propped open and, from what Ian could see, he’d come right at the end of what he’d seen in the vision. Mandy was reaching out to touch the book, the name Iris on her lips. Ian took a deep breath as everyone agreed and then entered the room.

           Everyone stopped. Everyone stared. Ian suddenly had no idea what the hell he was doing there.

           “Get the fuck out,” Mickey snapped.

           Ian raised his hands in surrender as Mickey’s brothers moved towards him. “Please, Mick,” he said. “You’ve gotta listen to me. I made a mistake. I know the kids are mine. I know… I was an asshole. Please let me explain.”

           “Let you explain what?” Mickey said. His blue eyes were like ice too cold to be melted. “Why you couldn’t have said this yesterday? Why your posh lifestyle is suddenly more important than I am?”

           “It’s not—”

           “That simple? Yeah, it is. You threw me away like the fucking white trash I am because you’re in a better place now.” Mickey spit the word “better” like it was a curse on his lips. “I’m just here to drag you down. So how about you get out? You get a free fucking pass to walk the hell out of my life. I don’t want me or my children stopping you from being the class A dick we both know you can be.”

           Ian swallowed hard and looked around the room. “Can we talk alone?”

           “No,” Mickey said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

           Ian supposed he deserved that. He took a deep breath and stepped closer, careful to watch Mickey’s brothers for any sign they might attack. “All of this,” Ian said, “everything, is my fault. I’m the one who fucked us up. I’m the one who did this to you. So, please, Mick, let me make it up to you. Let me save you.”

           Mickey laughed. “You think I wanna be your fucking charity case? That’s not what this is about, man. I came back hoping you still loved me, hoping you might actually want to start a family with me. But if that’s not fucking true, if you’re only here because you think you owe me, then get the fuck out. You don’t owe me anything, Gallagher.”

           “It’s not like that.”

           “Then what’s it like?”

           Ian bit his bottom lip. “I love you, Mickey.” Ian took another cautious step forward and wrapped his hand around Mickey’s. He felt the other man’s breath catch, felt the tension in his fingers. “I love you and I want to be here for you and our kids. I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you again, okay? I am here for you until the day I fucking die. And if you don’t want me to be, if I’ve fucked up too much, then I’ll leave. I’ll get out of your life. But if you still love me, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me for how badly I’ve fucked everything up, then please, Mick. Please let me take care of you and the babies. Let me back into your life. I’m fucking begging you.”

           Mickey’s hard exterior faltered and then he nodded. Ian reached forward and kissed him hard, didn’t let go as Mickey’s hands twisted into his hair and held him close. After a minute, Mickey pulled away with tears in his eyes.

           “What?” Ian said. “What’s wrong?”

           “My water just broke.”

Ten hours later, as Christmas was coming to a close, Mickey and Ian were finally brought the cleaned up twins. They sat together on Mickey’s hospital bed, Oliver in Mickey’s arms and Iris in Ian’s. Ian had never felt lighter or happier in his entire life.

           Slowly, the hospital staff allowed their families to filter in. The Gallaghers had come nine hours ago and spent Christmas with the Milkoviches in the waiting room. And now all of them, the whole of both families, filtered into the room to see the babies. They took turns holding them, cooing at them, and being berated by Mickey for not supporting their heads well enough.

           Ian sat back and watched the scene unfold, happy he had changed the future.

#gallavich #shameless #anonymous #ask me anything #i am really sorry for how long this took me and i really hope you like it <3 <3 <3

[worksethic-blog]

* HEADCANON  001.     › ›    AFFECTION  +  MANDY MILKOVICH !

(  this  is  a  headcanon  that  mainly  focuses  on  season  one    +   his  fake  relationship  with  mandy  milkovich.    considering  that  i  am  majorly  canon  divergent,    please  note  that  this  will  probably  not waver  throughout  the  future  seasons  of  shameless.  )

part  i.        i’m  going  to  begin  with  where  ian’s  need  for  affection    &    reassurance  stems  from.    it’s  first  seen  with  a  family  member   ( fiona )   the  first  few  episodes    (  i  didn’t  write  it  down,    sue  me )   when  ian  says  that  frank ‘hates  him’,    he  is  then  told  that  he  ‘just  looks  more  like  monica  than  the  rest  of  us,    it  probably  scares  him.’    in  my  personal  opinion,    ian  is  that  awkward middle  kid   (  ish  )    who  is  often overlooked  / overshadowed by  the  other  children  in  the  household.    ian  is  very  introverted  in  comparison.    therefore,    i  believe  that  ian  needs  that  reassurance   &    that  attention   &    affection  when  he’s  close  to  somebody,    especially  with  significant  other.    he  enjoys  simple  things,    he  enjoys  kissing  hello  /  goodbye,    he’s  very  into  subtle  touching    &   draping  limbs  over  his  significant  other.    even  in  a  friendship  sense,    ian  can  be  very  affectionate  as  seen  with  mandy.    even  when  ian    &    mandy  are  in  private    —    the  only  person  around  being  lip    —    they’re  still  being  affectionate  with  one  another.    it’s  easy  for  him  to  feel  replaced,    overshadowed  or not  good  enough.    though  ian  will  never  straight  up  ask  for  some  reassurance,    he  will  drop  hints.    he  is  very  vocal  with  his  feelings  as  well,    it’s  not  hard  for  ian  to  say  something  like  ‘i  miss  you’,    ‘i  love  you’,    ‘this  is  making  me  uncomfortable’,    ‘  you’re  contradicting  yourself.’    he  is  very  vocal  with  his feelings    &   he’s  a  person  who  likes  to  make  things  known / always  be  on  the  same  page.

part  ii.   i  imagine  that  despite  his  relationship  with  mandy  being  superficial,    they  both  engage  in  some  pretty  ‘relationship-type’  displays  of  affection.    due  to  ian  being  gay,    this  excludes  any  sexual  encounters    &    kissing  in  private,    etc.    but,    i  strongly  believe  they’re  not  opposed  to  the  hand  holding,    the  limb  draping,    the  hugging,    cuddling,    general  flirty  affection  that  you  typically  see  in  two  middle  school  kids  who’re  ‘in love’.    in  this  case  ian    &    mandy  are  platonically  in  love  with  one  another.    mandy  is  probably  the  person  that  ian  takes  to  see  a  movie,    or  to  go  get  something  for  his  family  when  lip  isn’t  around    &    he    ( obviously  )    can’t  take  kash.    while  they’re  pretending to  be  in  a  relationship  to  others,    their  friendship  is  really  tight-knit    &    sibling-like.    i  imagine  that  they  confide  in  one  another    &    hang  around  each  other  in  their  spare  time  because  they  find  that  in  some  sense  they  have  common  ground.    ian  is  compassionate,    observant,    understanding    &    a  type  of  person  willing  to stick  his  neck  out  for  someone  he  cares  about;    mandy    (  from  what  i  have  observed  )   is  someone  who  needs  a  person  like  ian  to  rely  on,    especially  with  her  insecurities   ( like  she  expressed  when  ian  told  her  that  he  was  gay  )    &   to  confide  in  about  her  issues  with  her  brothers    &   her  father,    other  boys,    etc.    in  my  portrayal,    ian   &   mandy  are  one  another’s  rocks,    kind  of  in  a  ride  or  die sense.

part  iii.    ian’s  mindset  is  very  god-like;    he  believes  that  the  world  revolves  around  himself.    he  has  never  been  what  is  considered  to  be  ‘the  centre  of  attention’    &   while  he  does  a  lot  for  himself,    a  lot  of extra  curriculars  that  are  something  to  be  praised  for;    is  not  often  shown  by  his  family,    which  he  desperately  craves.    while  he  knows  that  he’s  doing  well    &    has  that  small  amount  of  pride,    he  does  truly  wish  for  the  approval /  praise  of  others    &    would  enjoy  being  noticed  for  his  hard  work.    his  mind  is  usually  focused  on  himself!    if  an  issue  presents  itself  in other  people’s lives,    ian  will  lend  a  helping  hand,    but  99.9%  of  the  time  he  feels  as  though his  issues  are  his  own    &    his  achievements  are  his  own    &   doesn’t  always  feel  as  though  he’s  valued  by  others  because  of  the  lack  of  verbal  reassurance  /  praise  /  acknowledgement  he  receives  from  those  around  him.

#tbt.