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sisitrip · 2 years

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Zago, The Vulnerable

.GIF by @mickeygifs

Here's the second installment on the Angie/Mickey friendship I never knew was needed. Link to the first part is here and third and final part here.

This was partially born from the scene (S3; E3) where Mickey jealously watches Ian and Ned having drinks at The Fountain. When Mickey confronts them, Ian says "Shit, Mickey. What're you doin' here?" I burned a track in my mind thinking about how Mickey might've responded if Ned hadn't creepily interrupted. For me, I settled on one Mickey response that I would've loved based on the scene below: "M'just showing up, Gallagher."

Warnings: Unbeta'd; length (y'all might need to rein me in); tiny slip into self-harm (so brief and working on it); a growing closeness between friends that is so nice to write 💛🖤

Tagging @energievie @chicanomick @jomilky @ianandmickeygallavich and @creepkinginc because you've been so encouraging. Thank you 😌.

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Mickey - 17 Years Old

Mickey helps Angie sit on the bed and wrestles with her for the brown bag of Crown Royal.

“The fuck, Mickey. Gimme my shit,” she complains, when he yanks it away. She’s not quite drunk, but is well on her way and with good reason.

He didn’t show up. Again.

That dismissive shit had rarely bothered her until him. Somehow, that asshole got her all the way fucked up.

“I’ll give you a fresh one if you don’t chill out,” Mickey says softly, lifting her chin with a gentle finger. “Just the booze or you back on that pill shit?”

She swats at his hand and grabs his wrist, holding on, needing contact.

“Told you. Been done with that shit for almost a year.”

Mickey nods and pats her face.

“I’ll get water and when I get back, be ready to open that trap and spill.” He gives her cheek a soft pinch.

She squeezes his wrist then lets go.

“Die horribly,” she says affectionately.

“You first,” Mickey laughs out. He walks away and she miserably yanks at her hair, willing the ache in her chest to go away.

She’s got to do something or this love shit is going to kill her. She needs to be lost in something other than her thoughts. Lost in someone. Even if it's for the briefest moment, she just wants to stop feeling.

There’s only one thing that helps when she needs to get out of her fucking head.

Mickey comes back and she locks her eyes on him, on a mission. Yeah, this’ll have to do.

“Ayo, I got some of that expired Tylenol from your bathroom. If you take three you-”

He chokes off as she slides to her knees and starts unbuckling his pants.

“Angie?”

He’s frozen, hands stiffly holding a glass of water and the pills. She’s got Mickey where she wants him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use two fingers,” she says, determinedly pulling at his zipper. He’s not hard yet, but that never stopped her before.

She’s reaching into his boxers when the first stream of ice cold water hits the crown of her head. She yelps, flinching.

“What fuck are you doing?!” she snarls, gasping as the stream continues unabated. “You’re the one who asked me if I wanted to fuck!”

“You know what that's code for. Why are you acting brand new?” Mickey retorts, stepping back from her attempts to punch his dick into hamburger.

“You done?” he questions softly after she runs out of curses.

Wet, hurting and frustrated, she grabs her boobs and squeezes them hard, not knowing what else to do.

“Fuck!” she screams, miserable. She sags onto her side and curls up on the floor.

Mickey joins her, sitting against the bed and avoiding the wet spot on the rug.

He flicks the empty cup at her, spraying water droplets and laughs when she pinches him.

“Colin didn’t call, huh?” he asks gently after several beats of silence.

“Like I give shit if he calls.” Her watery sigh betrays her bravado.

“You need to cut him loose, Ang. I keep telling you. You can’t do worse, but you can do better.”

She heaves a wet snort. “You ain’t never lie.”

They laugh quietly and Mickey’s the first to sober up.

“You saw him? Ian?” he asks hesitantly. “What’d you think?”

“Barely saw him. But, you can't miss that hair. You undersold how red it is.”

Mickey shrugs. “Who knew that’d be my type.”

She sits up next to him, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

“Who knew that a coked out asshole wearing the underwear I bought him could have me so fucking strung out.” They snicker, leaning against each other.

Mickey’s phone rings and he bites his lip, a tell she’s come to recognize.

“Is that Red?”

Mickey gives her a stiff middle finger, but doesn’t answer the call.

She snatches at his phone, grateful for the distraction.

“Let's tell your little boyfriend how you love cooking.”

Mickey dives to the side protecting his phone from her grabby hands. “I gotta eat don’t I?” He’s wiggling and snorting, holding the phone out of reach.

She slaps a hand at his forearm and digs her knuckles into his ribs.

“Let me tell him how you describe, in detail, what he wears into the store everyday, and how you keep that security jacket on in ninety-degree weather because he said you look “official and shit.”

“Fuck off, Angie!” Mickey’s red-faced and laughing. “Never telling you shit again.”

In their scuffle, Mickey must have accidentally activated the call and the speakerphone because they both still when a voice speaks hesitantly.

“Mickey?”

The reaction in her friend is truly wondrous to behold. He literally uncoils, sagging into a dopey sweetness that makes her smile. He looks lit from within.

“What is it, Gallagher? Gettin’ my dick wet.”

Angie rolls off Mickey and sits back against the bed. Her friend is also ablaze with idiocy.

Mickey settles next to her, fighting a smile that seems to be completely controlled by his red-haired dick whisperer.

“Linda wants to, uh, to know if you're coming back to the store,” Ian says a touch too casually.

Even she can hear the lie as it trips out of Ian’s mouth.

“I’m on my lunch hour. Tell Linda, it’s a bodega, not a sweatshop. I’ll be back after this nut.”

She can’t help what she does next because she can feel the hurt wafting through the phone line as Ian responds, sounding resigned and confused. “I’ll tell her, Mick.”

She slaps the back of Mickey’s head hard and he scrambles to end the call.

“What the fuck’s your problem?!”

“You, Linda Blair. How fucking evil are you to fuck around with his feelings like that?”

Mickey rubs the back of his head, frowning.

“Sure you’re not projectiling or some shit?” he grumbles.

“Projecting, Einstein, and maybe! But, that’s besides the point.” She turns to him. “Stop actin’ like we’re fucking and just tell him you like him.”

Mickey looks out the window stubbornly. “Ain’t ready for that.”

“Then let him go.”

“Ain’t ready for that either,” he says softly, digging his phone into his thigh.

Another tell. Like her, Mickey hurts himself when he feels too much. They've been working on that. Together.

She pulls his hand away from the spot that’ll have a fresh bruise tomorrow.

“Whatever you decide to do, just try and show him how you feel. Give him something besides this confusing back and forth shit.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” he snarks. “Put his name in my notebook? Make him a mixtape?”

She snorts softly. “I don’t know you idiot. Maybe …,” she looks down at her wet shirt, speaking quietly. “Maybe just show up, you know? Sometimes just showing up is everything.”

Mickey’s looking at her and she can’t look at him. Not yet. Not until she does something about these stupid fucking tears that have been threatening all morning.

As always, he can feel her distress, so he quickly yanks her wet t-shirt over her head and mushes the wet fabric into her face, helping her hide her tears and her pain.

“Just show up, huh? Deep thoughts by Angie Zago,” Mickey teases as she pulls her shirt down.

“And you’re as deep as a puddle," she says lovingly. "Now get the fuck out. I got Mr. Patel coming over.”

Mickey hops up and extends a hand, helping her stand.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking that dry cleaner asshole.”

“Nah. He’s coming for that ointment. The infection down there is almost cleared up.”

Mickey wrinkles his nose, still squeamish about her Amazon sex shop side business.

“You still getting that shit for him? Tell him to stop fuckin’ without a rubber.”

She shoves his shoulder. “And ruin my best income stream? I order shit for him at least once a month. Fuck that.”

Mickey chuckles. “Bad Bitch Angie. The neighborhood’s very own ‘down low/do dirt’ marketplace.” He reaches out and snaps her bra strap. “You should give me a cut. I started it all.”

She grabs him into a headlock, smushing his face into her wet shirt.

“You started shit, damn near literally. My fingers still smell like your ass and it’s been a year motherfucker.”

Mickey wiggles out of her hold and dodges her slap.

“You should be so lucky, bitch,” he laughs out. “See you, tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Steal me some more tampons.”

He’s stepping into the hallway when she stops him, forcing herself to do the one thing she'd been dreading for months.

“Mickey?” He turns back. “If you see him, tell that fuck I ain’t waiting no more.” Her voice is husky, but she gets it out.

Mickey’s face softens into sadness. He tilts his chin, holding his head up, waiting. With effort, she does the same, drawing her shoulders back and raising her head too.

“Good for you,” he says quietly, then leaves after winking at her.

When he’s gone, she finally lets the tears come. All losses, even if the person you’re mourning is worthless, should be acknowledged.

She changes her bra and t-shirt and by the time she’s done repacking the ointment for Mr. Patel into a Just For Men box, she’s no longer crying.

#Angie Zago #mickey milkovich #shameless us #gallavich #my fic

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sluttygallavich · 2 months

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Ian spits on mickeys hole and they both enjoy it 🤝

The first time it happens, it’s out of pure necessity.

They’ve just chased each other across half of South Side and up six flights of crumbling stairs, blood pumping and hearts racing. By the time they get to the mattress they have set up behind a half-collapsed wall near Ian’s makeshift training course they’re both practically out of their minds and completely desperate for it.

“Get the shit, Gallagher.”

Mickey already has his jeans pulled down to his knees and is looking back over his shoulder at him expectantly when the crushing realization hits.

Shit.

Mickey’s eyebrows furrow at Ian’s stricken expression. “The fuck, Gallagher. You didn’t come prepared?”

And no, actually, he hadn’t come prepared for Mickey to materialize in the middle of a busy street and crash his…whatever with Ned, and he sure as fuck hadn’t been planning on letting things with Ned go any further than a couple of drinks and maybe a hurried hand job if the old guy was really insistent. So no, he is in no way prepared for the situation he finds himself in now—ass naked but for his socks and rock hard, with his sorta boyfr– with Mickey’s perfect pale cheeks just begging to be spread.

He huffs, cheeks pinkening under Mickey’s accusatory stare.

“Get on your back, I’ll blow you instead.” Ian tries not to let on how disappointed he is, even as he suggests it, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Mickey makes no move to roll over. Instead, he bites at his bottom lip, considering.

“You gonna keep sticking it in that geriatric pedo?” he asks finally, voice gruff but eyes darting around, betraying his nerves.

And Ian’s first instinct is to roll his eyes and protest at that, but, well… yeah, okay.

His second instinct is to turn the question around and ask if Mickey’s going to keep sticking it in Angie Zago or whatever other neighbourhood slut is willing, but, well…

This is Mickey sort of trying, isn’t it? This is missed ya under the bleachers, and this is helping Ian train for West Point nearly every day since he’s been back, and this is the mattress that “fell off the back of a truck” after Ian complained about the concrete floor fucking up his knees. This is following him today and beating the shit out of that geriatric pedo in the middle of the street because he was jealous but couldn’t just say it.

This is Mickey staking a claim, maybe.

“No,” Ian answers, heart racing at what he thinks might be happening—what he thinks Mickey might be proposing. And he wasn’t going to ask, but as he shuffles closer on the mattress, he finds that he just needs to know. He needs to hear it too. “Are you?”

Mickey snorts, turning his head back around so Ian can no longer see his face.

“Am I gonna stick my dick in that grandpa’s wrinkly old ass? Nah man, you don’t gotta worry about that.”

Ian reaches out then, just a single hand brushing lightly at Mickey’s hip, and he realizes it’s the first time they’ve touched since rushing up here, too frantic earlier to do anything but tear at their own clothes.

“Mick…”

And he must hear something in Ian’s voice then, because when Mickey speaks again the derisiveness of a moment before is gone. He just sounds desperate again. Pleading, even.

“C’mon, Ian, just get in me.”

And it’s not exactly an answer, is it? But it’s Ian instead of Gallagher, and it’s the vulnerability he can feel rolling off Mickey in this moment, and it’s trust, really. And Ian finds that’s good enough for now.

He grips Mickey’s ass with both hands and relishes in the heavy exhale it pulls from him, almost like Mickey had been holding his breath. Like relief. And Ian feels it too. So strongly he’s almost faint with it. He spreads Mickey wide and pets at his hole with his thumb, mouth falling open as he watches it flutter and try to pull him in.

“Fuck, Mick,” he groans. He feels even more wild than he did a few minutes ago. “Still don’t have any lube though.”

Mickey’s head drops down between his shoulders as Ian presses just the tip of his thumb inside him, dry.

“Just spit on it, Gallagher, Jesus.”

And Ian feels like he’s been kicked in the back, all the air rushing out of his lungs at once.

“Are– are you sure?”

“Holy fuck, yes, yes, I’m sure,” Mickey huffs. “You need to see it in fuckin’ writing or what?”

Ian doesn’t react to that, too used to Mickey’s impatience and bluster for it to faze him anymore and still far too preoccupied with Mickey’s clenching hole and the prospect of covering it in his spit, which suddenly seems like the hottest thing he’s ever considered.

Mickey’s spit-slicked hole and Ian’s bare cock sinking into it. Fuck. He prays he lasts longer than two sad pumps.

He knees at Mickey’s legs and gets him to spread them wider, running his nails up Mickey’s back before forcing his upper body down to the mattress, leaving just Mickey’s ass sticking up in the air for Ian to do with as he pleases. He gathers as much saliva in his mouth as he can and leans closer, spreading Mickey’s cheeks again and spitting directly on his puckered rim, the sound loud and obscene in the quiet of the abandoned rubble.

“Oh fuck…” Ian whispers, immediately dragging his thumb through the warm spit and pushing into Mickey’s hole. “Oh fuck, Mick.”

Mickey just groans, pushing back against Ian’s hands, encouraging more.

Ian spits again, this time slowly pushing two fingers into Mickey’s heat, just to the first knuckles, just to see, but Mickey’s demand for more has him quickly pushing in the rest of the way, stretching and fucking him open until his hole is gaping, just a little, and fuck, what if he spit right inside of him?

He chokes off a moan at the thought and continues getting Mickey prepped, but once the idea has been raised in his mind it latches on and he can’t let it go.

Mickey’s pushing back against his fingers, three buried instead him now. “C’mon, Gallagher, while we’re still young,” he grouses, though the effect is somewhat lessened by how fucked out he sounds.

Ian reaches a hand around Mickey’s compact body and presents it palm up and slightly cupped in front of Mickey’s face.

“You too,” Ian manages to get out. “Spit.”

Mickey attempts a laugh, but now that Ian’s nailing his prostate with every other thrust of his fingers it sounds more like it’s been punched out him.

“You’re a freak, Gallagher.” But he doesn’t hesitate to do as he’s told, and now Ian’s using Mickey’s spit to slick up his own cock and shit, maybe he won’t even make it to two sad pumps.

He squeezes at the head of his cock, clear beads gathering at the tip, and Ian’s usually pretty impressive self-control immediately snaps. He pulls his fingers out of Mickey’s ass and spits directly into his empty hole. Mickey lets out a breathy “Fuck,”and it’s all somehow even hotter than Ian was just imagining.

“Ready?” he can’t help but ask, dragging his throbbing cock through the mess he’s made, his own precum only adding to the wet slick. He half expects another snarky response, and when he doesn’t get one, he knows Mickey is just as a far gone as he is.

“Yeah, ready, yes,” Mickey babbles. “Fuck yes…”

Ian keeps a steady grip on Mickey’s hip, his other hand slowly guiding himself inside, and shit it’s tight. And hot. It’s hot and tight and so, so much that Ian swears his vision darkens at the edges a little bit. He remembers then to breathe at the same time that Mickey moans—moans! Mickey never moans!—and tries to press back against him. There’s more resistance than Ian’s used to, but the feeling of being inside Mickey with nothing between them more than makes up for the lack of lube.

Ian can’t look away from where they’re connected, skin to skin. He’s practically panting like a dog, his tongue feeling parched and dry, but he gathers as much saliva as he can and spits one last time, watching it pool around where his shaft disappears into the tight ring of Mickey’s hole before pressing the rest of the way in.

“Shit, Gallagher, need you to move.”

Ian’s let himself slump forward across Mickey’s back, his forehead pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Need…a minute,” he breathes into Mickey’s skin, eyes squeezed shut. “Jesus Mick, you feel so fucking tight. Not gonna last.”

Never one to be kept waiting, Mickey starts up a slow roll of his hips. “Don’t worry, Firecrotch,” he says, rocking back and forth on Ian’s cock. “Ain’t gonna last either. Better make the next thirty seconds count.”

Ian huffs out a laugh and pushes himself up off Mickey’s back so he can piston into the older boy the way he knows he likes. His belly swoops at the way his bare cock looks drilling into Mickey, and truthfully, it’s not much more than a minute or two later when he feels that familiar tingling in his balls that lets him know he’s about to bust. And shit, he hasn’t really thought this far ahead. Should he pull out? Is Mickey going to let him—

“Oh fuck. Mick, I’m gonna– Shit, I’m–” He’s the one babbling now. He feels panicked, knowing the clock is quickly running down. Finally, he manages a complete thought. “Mickey, where should I come?”

Mickey is working his own cock furiously in his fist, his breathing labored around his moans. Ian’s never heard him be this vocal. His balls are drawing up at the sound of Mickey’s pleasure, but still Mickey hasn’t given him an answer.

“Mick, please…oh god, oh fuck…where should I–”

“Come inside me.”

“Oh god…”

Ian only hears a ringing in his ears after that. Without thinking he wraps his arms around Mickey’s torso and hauls him up so that his back is pressed firm against Ian’s chest. He holds him tight and buries his face in Mickey’s neck as his release crashes through him, lighting up every inch of his skin that’s connected to Mickey’s, that’s in Mickey.

Dimly he’s aware of Mickey crying out and shuddering around him, his head tipping back to rest against Ian’s, and he’s struck, suddenly, by the intimacy of it all—they’ve never been closer, he thinks—before they’re both pitching forward and collapsing together, Ian slipping from Mickey’s body as they come to settle next to each other on their sides.

They’re both quiet, save for their ragged breathing, as they slowly come down from their highs. Mickey’s shirt is still on, but Ian watches his back rise and fall, admires the faint freckles on his exposed shoulder, follows a bead of sweat meandering down Mickey’s neck from his hairline and has to restrain himself from licking the rivulet it leaves in its wake.

Eventually his gaze drifts lower, and despite coming harder than he ever has in his life less than two minutes ago, he’s hit with an intense wave of emotion—arousal, definitely, but something else too—that has his dick twitching and his pulse kicking right back up. It’s a mess of cum and sweat and spit, and it should be gross, maybe, but all Ian can think is that it’s them. He closes his eyes and smiles.

The first time it happens, it’s the start of something new.

#well this one really got away from me 😅#prompt fill #sorry it took me 100 years to write something #i am posting blindly without rereading because 😳🙈#gallavich #smut #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fanfic #shameless

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m4ndysk4nkovich · 5 months

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I don't recall it being mentioned on the show, but what do you think young Ian's, Mickey's and Debbie's gay awakening would be?

well, ian’s awakening was mentioned twice, and it was justin timberlake (which i find to be hilarious). it’s one of those things where the writers can’t keep the character’s ages straight but they can remember shit like young ian’s justin timberlake obsession. i imagine that fiona was into nsync as a teenager, and that subsequently made ian kind of a fan of nsync also😭 i wholeheartedly believe that in that magazine we saw lip find in season 1 were pictures of justin timberlake.

mickey is a little harder because i genuinely do not know. it would be super cute if his awakening had been ian when they were kids (threatening to stab ian because the poor kid asked for a pencil back in the third grade), but i feel like the fact that he didn’t remember ian playing little league with him makes me rule that out. if anything, the awakening in question wasn’t really him being like “holy shit i like dick” it was more that he had seen his brothers with girls and had tried being with girls, but he never felt anything. we know that something happened with him and karen, and how could we forget about angie zago? he probably just tried to have sex with girls and realized he didn’t really get anything out of it, but he refused to admit he was gay, so he acted like he just thought love was stupid (i remember he used to have a poster that said something like “fuck love” back in season 1).

with debbie, we technically witnessed her “gay awakening”, except you couldn’t pay me enough to say that alexandra was debbie’s gay awakening. no fucking way. my personal belief is that holly herkimer was debbie’s gay awakening. you know, her friend on-and-off for the first five seasons? holly wasn’t great, she was a bad influence and ultimately fucked debbie up even more- but i still believe that debbie had a crush on her. debbie was mesmerized by holly, desperately wanted holly’s approval and attention, and basically did whatever she told her to. i just feel like there was more than just admiration there, holly was her first crush. but much like mickey, there were little signs like her deteste for porn (canon) and confusion surrounding liking boys.

#shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #debbie gallagher #gallavich #shameless ask #shameless headcanon #gallavich headcanon #shameless us

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unbridgeabledistances · 2 years

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galladrabbles: beard

lol so i went for a more queer definition of the word “beard” and wrote a pride-themed drabble; thanks as always to @galladrabbles for this spark of creative energy, and to @heyheyusedtobemynickname for this amazing prompt! (and i hope your daughter is okay!💖)

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

it still overwhelms him— the blur of multicolored flags, people covered in glitter singing to the too-loud bass of the new lizzo song. face-painted families, men in leather, tents with food and t-shirts and free sti tests— and among it all, him, with his fingers woven through ian’s while his cheerful fucking husband pulls them through the crowd.

“we’ve gotta see the drag performances, i remember debbie said they were kickass last year. franny loved ‘em.”

mickey exhales in response— and he knows ian sees it.

“kinda wild that you went from angie zago being your beard to all this, huh?”

“shut up, gallagher.”

#happy pride my loves!!!#galladrabbles #shameless #shameless fic #mickey milkovich #Ian Gallagher #shameless fanfiction #drabble

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zutaralesbian · 1 year

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Hi! I don't know if you have already answered to this ask, I have just discovered your blog (which I think is really great ❤️) what do you think about the storyline of the episode 11x07 of Shameless, the orgy and Ian and Mickey fucking other people together. I know you don't like the writing of the few lasts seasons of Shameless, but do you think that it's something that Ian and Mickey would want to do, if the scenario was well written?

Hi! Thank you for the compliment ❤️

And tbh that’s a hard no from me. I’ve always seen Ian and Mickey as both very possessive people. (Especially Mickey, which is why it’s hilarious they tried to portray him as being the one more into fucking other people).

Mickey beat up Ned out of jealousy because Ian was on a date with him. He beat up another guy that he walked in on Ian fucking. (Mind you, both these scenarios happened before they were even officially a couple). In S4, Mickey threatened to beat up a man for even touching Ian.

Ian was jealous of Mickey fucking Angie Zago. And while yes, a big aspect of him wanting Mickey to come out was because of him not wanting to be a secret, I think another big component is that he’s always wanted Mickey to be his and only his.

I have nothing against poly people. You do you. I just don’t think Ian and Mickey are poly. Up until S11, there was no indication that would be something they’d be into whatsoever. Both of them are too jealous and possessive for that in my eyes.

The horrible things about the later seasons usually falls into one of two boxes for me. The “this makes no sense but I’m going to try to meta and make sense of it” box, or the “I’m ignoring this entirely” box. 11x07 falls into the latter for me.

#gallavich #anonymous #answered

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gallavich-headcanon · 2 years

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36. Did Mickey actually fuck Angie Zago? Was she a beard?

Well anon, as much as I wish Mickey could have found a safe person to be honest with and to act as his beard (like Mandy and Ian) I don't think that's the case.

I think they fucked at least a couple of times, but probably less often than what Mickey claimed in public.

We know he had tried to have sex with other women in canon. I don't think it was because he was questioning if he's gay, it was just 'safer' at the time.

Maybe Angie had a suspicion Mickey wasn't into women but he would deny it anyways.🤷

#anon #my headcanons #ian x mickey #gallavich #gallavich headcanons #shameless

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thecoveys · 2 years

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36. Did Mickey actually fuck Angie Zago? Was she a beard?

gallavich headcanon questions

36. Did Mickey actually fuck Angie Zago? Was she a beard?

I think that as much as we would all like to think that he didn't, I believe he did actually fuck her. He was so deeply in the closet and dealing with so much internalized homophobia and self hatred, I think he forced himself to. I do believe Angie knew, though, but she didn't tell Mickey or anyone else her suspicions.

In an ideal world though, I would like to think that he just went into her house, waited for Ian and Lip to leave, and then snuck out the back and went home.

#asks #answered #gallavich hcs

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stocious · 2 years

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36. Did Mickey actually fuck Angie Zago? Was she a beard?

mickey fucked angie, period.

i like a good angie being a beard (and good friend!) headcanon, i do, but i still think he fucked her. at that point in canon, mickey wasnt ready to accept himself or his sexuality fully and i mean, concidering all things with their situation, where they lived, etc etc, it was just a thing he had to do.

did he enjoy it? no, not really. did he finish? maybe? i think he would have done his best to make it seem as real as possible if not. to stay safe. to keep ian safe. going through the motions to keep everyone in the dark for the time being. i think he’d be able to do that. baby is strong and stubborn.

(also i know i have other asks for headcanons waiting. im not ignoring you, my brain is fried from work and im having a hard time to think. sorry friends 🖤)

#headcanon asks

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whatwouldmickeydo · 3 years

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“You wanna fuck Angie? I can call her... get her down here...”

Ian feels the pressure at the back of his eyes, lump stuck in his throat at Mickey’s words.

But then, quick as anything, his thoughts harden.

Fine, he wants to play it this way? Game on.

His expression clears as he watches him drink his soda. “Yeah actually I do, call her up.”

Mickey practically chokes on his drink as he says it, coughing and spluttering before he finally catches his breath and looks up.

“What?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Call her. If she’s as good as you say she is I wanna fuck her too.”

Ian’s got The Chin out, defiant expression all over his face.

Mickey looks vaguely panicked, obviously not having expected this type of response.

He notes Ian’s set face, all false bravado, chest pushed out.

Alright. Two can play this game.

“Fine. I’m calling her right now.”

“Good. Can’t wait.”

Mickey pulls out his phone, fingers hesitating briefly as he looks up at Ian and then back down, dialing the number.

Ring. Ring.

“Yeah?”

Mickey’s mind goes momentarily blank, not having expected her to pick up so quickly.

“Uh hey. Angie. It’s Mickey.”

“Ok. What do you want?”

He looks over at Ian, jaw clenched tight, eyes staring straight at him.

“My uh, friend wants to fuck you. You free?”

“Sure. Bring me a case of beer too.”

She hangs up. Mickey stares at his phone before looking up.

“She’s uh, she’s down. Gotta bring her beer too.”

“Great. I’ll go grab it.”

Mickey watches him stalk off, thumbing at his nose as he starts to sweat a little more.

Shit. He’s not actually gonna do this is he?

Ian rings up the beer, bagging it and coming to stand in front of him. He raises his eyebrows in expectation, both of them staring each other down before Mickey flips him off and leads them out the front door.

They walk there in near total silence, tension taught between them as they try not to look at each other.

Angie’s on the porch when they get there, bored expression on her face as she lounges on the front step and watches them approach.

They come to the fence, eyes bouncing back and forth. No one says anything.

Finally, Angie rolls her eyes and gets up, glancing at the pack of beer in Ian’s hand.

“Put that in the fridge, will you?” She heads inside without a word.

They both stand and stare after her.

Mickey looks over. “Well, what are you waitin’ for? Go fuck her, man.”

“I WILL, don’t rush me.”

“Well then stop fuckin’ standing around with your dick out. Go give it to her.”

Ian shuffles the beer in his arms then takes one more look over at Mickey, standing there smoking his cigarette, all practiced nonchalance in his posture.

He rolls his shoulders. Cracks his neck.

“Fine.”

One last look and he’s walking inside, slamming the door shut with his foot.

He heads for her kitchen and shoves the beer into the fridge, panic rising in his chest as he straightens up and he realizes what he’s doing there.

Shit. Am I gonna actually have to fuck her?

He hesitates, then slowly walks into the living room where Angie’s laying on the couch.

He goes near the window, peeking out just a bit to see Mickey outside, leaning against the fence. Asshole.

“Did you just come here to look out the window?”

He jumps slightly at her words, momentarily forgetting she’s even in the room.

“Uh, no. Listen, I -“

“Wanna watch Ice Road Truckers?”

He’s caught off guard by the random question as he stands awkwardly by the window.

She looks over at him then back at the tv.

“It’s a half hour long, usually how long it takes. Get me a beer while you’re up.”

Ian pauses, brain still trying to catch up, eyes glancing from her to the window.

“You mean, you don’t wanna...?”

Angie laughs, belly shaking slightly.

“Not with you, you’re definitely not my type.”

#ok I had to write this because it’s too funny not to #season 3 #Angie zago #you don’t fuck Angie?#everybody fucks Angie #shameless #gallavich #shameless fic

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marzgaperez · 3 years

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Gallavich Fanfic: The Trio (Complete)

Summary: What if Ian, Mickey, and Angie were all friends in high school? What if they had each other to lean on, despite their shitty circumstances? And what if Angie realized that the greatest love story of all time was happening right under her nose?

Read it here on AO3.

@erikutta @mrs-monaghansblog @whaticameherefor @gallavichthings 😘

#gallavich fanfiction #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #angie zago #yay I finished something

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panevanbuckley · 3 years

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please tell me I'm not the only one headcanoning mickey and angie as bffs (well, as close as mickey lets people get anyways). like, it started accidentally but mickey realises angie never makes fun of him or looks down on him and now they're just dumb friends together pretending to be fuck buddies so nobody finds out that mickey has a heart. mickey rants about his crush on ian all the time too. he'll just strut into her house like, "fucking redhead smiled at me today, the fuck does he think I am?!" and angie is prepared, "this a coffee or beer talk?". mickey just flops onto her couch, "pour whiskey into my coffee and then we'll be good."

idk I just really love the idea of them being friends and mickey having someone he can talk to without judgement because it's what he deserves

#bonus points if angie is gay too and she gets to rant to mickey about the cute girls she likes #mickey is all 'girls are easy you just buy her flowers unlike goddamn boys the hell am i s'posed to get an army nerd?!'#shameless #mickey milkovich #angie zago #< idk whether that's her name but that's what google gave me

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sisitrip · 2 years

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Zago, the Haven

.GIF by @mickeygifs

This is the third and final installment of the Mickey/Angie friendship exploration. I can’t even begin to express how embarrassed I am at the length of this one - it got away from me, but I did promise some Gallavich. These scenarios have gone on ad infinitum in my head for a really long time - retconned to hell and back.

Links to Part 1 and Part 2 (if for nothing else but to see how I progressively lost control of myself lol)

Warnings: Unbeta'd; delicious smut; length, the sheer length of it all (told y’all to tell me to fall back); brief hint at suicidal ideation (so brief); mention of drug use. 🖤💛 Tagging @jomilky @tsuga-of-mars @sweetbee78 @chicanomick @energievie @creepkinginc @ianandmickeygallavich and everyone else who liked this short series. Thanks everyone for being interested and your encouragement. This was so much fun to write. I have another work to be posted shortly on AO3 which is just Gallavich entitled “Underneath the Nickel” and it’s a one-shot that’s been percolating while I work on my longer form story “Sink Where We Stand.” Maybe we’ll all see each other at these works too! 😌

____________________

Mickey, 19 years old

“I know you got some, Angie,” Mickey mutters, scattering the contents on the top of her dresser with his frantic, searching hands. “Probably hid ‘em from yourself when you were strung out.”

She silently watches as Mickey destroys her room. It’s late and he’d come in like a tornado, hopped up and looking to wreck himself.

She’s scared for him and doesn’t know why.

Agitated, he opens dresser drawers and rifles through them, spilling clothes.

“Mickey.”

He ignores her, eyes tweaked wide and judging by the state of his reddened, powder-encrusted nostrils, he wasn’t just drunk.

“It doesn’t have to be premium shit. Don’t even need to be pharmaceutical grade,” Mickey jitters out, snatching drawers free and dumping their contents on the floor. “I just need a few, just need to-”

“Mickey, there isn’t-” she begins, careful and quiet.

He explodes and somehow it’s a relief.

“Don’t lie to me! Once a fucking pill head, always a fucking pill head!” Mickey bellows, yanking another drawer out and slamming it on the floor.

She flinches, eyes stinging from the hurled invective that she knows he doesn’t mean.

In her peripheral, she catches sight of her father hovering in the dark hallway, crowbar in hand. When he sees that it's Mickey, he lowers it. Apparently, she could be yelled at, but no one else was allowed to beat her.

She walks to the door and shuts it firmly in his face.

Mickey’s going through her small closet now, tossing out shoes, purses with broken straps and her hidden Amazon haul.

“Where the fuck are the pills Angie! I fuckin’ need them.”

She stands quietly among the wreckage of his pain and waits. He throws the last of the Adorime vibrators across the room and turns to her, violence painting his eyes a lifeless blue.

“M’not asking you again. Tell me where they are,” Mickey grinds out, nostrils flared and chest heaving.

When she doesn’t answer, he charges her and she backpedals to the wall with her hands up.

“I don’t fucking have any!” she yells, out of room to go further. She instinctively covers her face and waits for the hitting to start.

The blow never comes.

“Oh Jesus,” Mickey whispers.

Scared, she cries into her hands and when he touches her, she flinches. She’s never had to flinch from him before.

“Angie … Ang, shit, I’m sorry.”

She can’t lower her hands because the minute she does, their friendship is over. The only friendship she has.

She’s ashamed to do it, but can’t help herself. She starts to rock forward and back, already mourning the loss of him.

“No, don’t Angie. Don’t do that,” Mickey pleads guiltily.

She starts to bang her head against the wall, a habit Mickey knew she’d engaged in when she was too young to know that feelings could be let out in other ways.

After her second hit, the wall behind her head softens and warms, and she uncovers her face to see Mickey close, his arm curved as he holds his hand behind her head.

The gesture makes her want to sob with relief. He was still in there, her Mickey. Thank fuck.

“I should break every fucking finger you got back there,” she says hoarsely.

“With your hard head, that’s a real possibility,” he says, quiet remorse tempering his quip. “I’m sorry.”

She glares at him. “Were you going to hit me?”

“No,” he breathes out, eyes wide and apologetic. “I would never fucking hit you, you know that.”

“I know jack shit right now,” she snorts unkindly. “You come here raging, tear my room up and you charge me.” She shoves past him. “All that don’t add up to a soft pat on the cheek.”

She stops in the middle of the room and wipes her face, blowing out a slow breath. Whatever it was, Mickey wasn’t here because he’d gotten into another fight with Svet. This was old Mickey. The self-destructive Mickey she hasn’t seen for a while.

This was the "before Ian" Mickey.

She quietly begins cleaning up, expecting him to leave. Instead, Mickey comes over and helps her. She pettily wants to tell him to get out, but his shaking hands stop her. He wasn’t doing okay and would do worse if she cut him loose to the streets.

They work in silence for the next two hours. Mickey helps her pick up every piece of clothing, every hairpin and every bit of loot for her sex shop business

He grabs a box of spermicidal foam, looking at it confused.

“Sperm foam?” he asks, holding the box up.

“It’s a contraceptive. Mrs. Kopeczic’s husband won’t use condoms and wants her to keep doing the rhythm method. This keeps her from popping out a kid every ten months.”

He hands it to her and kneels to grab a stray sock peeking out from under the bed.

For two hours, she's tried to let him come to her with whatever it was. But, she’s waited long enough.

“I know it isn’t Svet, you could give a shit about her. I know it ain’t Terry. He’s been bragging about the wedding to everybody, my Dad says.” She takes a step toward him.

Mickey stills and balls the sock in a shaking fist.

“So what is it, Mickey?” Another step brings her closer. His profile is one of misery.

Head bowed, he opens and closes his mouth while blinking rapidly. When he does finally speak, his voice is little more than a whisper.

“He left.”

She knows immediately who ‘he’ is.

“Ian.”

She doesn’t need confirmation. Pale and haunted, Mickey looks like an underground dweller who’d been shown the sun only to be cruelly shoved back into a brooding darkness. He was destroyed.

“He found a way to join the Army. H-he’s going to be gone for four years. Four f-fucking years. He’s gone.”

Mickey slowly sags forward, pressing his face into the mattress of her bed, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He holds himself around the middle as he cries.

Her heart aches for him. He has never looked so broken.

She pads over and sits next to him on the bed. With the gentlest of care, she pulls him over, resting his head in her lap. He clings to her, face wet and working as he fists the back of her shirt.

She cards her fingers through his hair and it’s only when his face is pressed into her belly does he vocalize his pain. The barking sobs are raw, jagged notes of grief’s music and she knows it all too well.

“I can’t get through this awake to it all, Angie.”

Mickey looks up, face swollen with heartbreak and wild with his desperation to fall into mindlessness. As much as she wants to help him, she can’t let him start down that path. It goes nowhere and it only ends when you’ve lost your soul to it.

“Mickey, you don’t want-”

“Please,” he sobs softly. “Please, I’m a fuckin’ exposed nerve. It hurts. Everything h-hurts.”

She holds his face in her hands, thumbing tears away. Faced with the severity of his agony, she starts to cry and prepares to add to his burden by helping get through this without the oblivion he thinks he needs.

She leans forward and kisses him on the forehead, her own tears dropping onto his face.

“There isn’t a pill that’s been invented that will take this hurt from you. Nothing can do that,” she comforts, as best and as honestly as she can.

“But, I promise you this,” she soothes, “That fucking sun will rise tomorrow and yeah, it will rise on another day filled with pain, but it will fucking rise. Just get to the next day. That’s all. Just get there.”

She slides down onto the floor with him as he fractures under her gentle hands.

“I can’t do this. I feel like my heart has b-been ripped apart.” Mickey’s almost hard to look at now, the anguish is so raw on his face. “I feel like my heart is broken, Angie.”

She strokes his hair back. “I know honey, I believe you.”

Bereft, Mickey bends his head, trying to hide what she already knows.

“It’s … it’s knowing I have to let him go,” Mickey weeps brokenly. “But, I don’t want to. Christ, please, I don’t want to.”

Mickey sags out of her hands and into her arms. She holds him as he sobs into her neck.

They stay that way for a long time, sharing the burden of his hurt in the quiet of her room.

When his tears slow and Mickey’s just weakly breathing into her shoulder, she gets him up and climbs into her bed with him. Quiet and concerned, she holds his hand until the soft bruise of hurt stamped into his face bleeds away as he falls asleep.

His eyelids, a soft purplish blue, jump as Mickey begins to dream and she watches him until her own scratchy and tired eyes begin to droop. As she falls asleep, she promises herself that when Mickey wakes, she'll offer him more than just her comfort.

She wants to offer him hope because without it, he’s not going to survive Ian.

_________________________

The sky is just starting to lighten and Angie’s soft snores are the only sound in the room.

He’s been awake for an hour, trying not to call Ian.

To say what, he doesn’t know. What could he possibly say that would make everything alright? He was married, having a kid and his life was as fucked as he always thought it would be. He’d tried to warn Ian off so many times that he’d lost count. He’d even tried to beat it out of Ian before he got married, nearly breaking himself in two with the pain of watching Ian writhe on the ground, bloody and broken because of him. Again.

That fight, short and brutal, had nearly killed Mickey. And that final kick, the low blow that had ended Mickey’s cornering, had not been entirely about waving Ian off - it had come from a dark place inside him where his shittiest self lived to destroy things. To destroy anything that could make him happy.

The guilt of that kick had propelled him to Ian’s place that same night, regret eating at him as he’d replayed the way Ian’s head had snapped back from his boot, mouth arcing blood into the air. He’d kept seeing those bloody drops fly over and over, each one an indictment that proved he was the scummiest piece of shit walking the Southside.

So, he’d told himself, as he pulled up on the block, that he was there to square shit with Ian. But, what he’d been doing was hoping for one more chance to be near someone he had no business needing.

He had been sitting in front of the Gallagher house for hours, completely sober after long minutes of replaying Ian’s broken and pained groans in his mind. He could still hear the crunch of the gravel as Ian struggled to recover from the ruthless rejection.

Yeah. He wasn’t just scum, he was the amoebic parasite that lived on the back of scum.

When Kev and V stumbled to their house and the lights in the upstairs Gallagher bedrooms went out, he jogged to their front door.

A drunk Fiona answered his knock, blearily eying him with disdain.

“You responsible for the three bags of peas and carrots I lost to black eye duty tonight?” she questioned icily.

He couldn’t look at her. “Is he still here?”

“No thanks to your steel-toe Cats.” She looked at his boots and stepped forward, face hard.

“Came to apologize. After that, he don’t ever have to worry about my boots again,” he said with quiet shame.

Fiona took another step into his space, breathing whiskey-scented fury over him.

“You’ve done us a favor with my uncle Patrick. Since we always pay our debts and because I want Ian happy even when what makes him happy isn’t good for him, I’ll let you in.”

She leaned closer and he looked up into eyes that were dark and cold.

“But, if you really are going to marry her, keep your fucking boots out of my house and out from under my brother’s bed after this. Let him go.”

She stepped aside and for a minute, he considered just walking away, letting his last bloody goodbye to Ian cap off a violent and doomed love.

His weakness for Ian wouldn’t let him. He walked inside and went straight upstairs, feeling the weight of Fiona’s judgment with every step.

The boys room was dark and he spied Ian on his back, one knee akimbo. His face in the streetlamp lit gloom was puffy and he was frowning in his sleep.

Mickey shed his coat, shoes and pants and gently moved Ian’s cocked leg aside and slipped in next to him. Ian woke with a start and surged up to cup his face in shock. Silent, Mickey let Ian push him onto his back. With a soft thumb, Ian traced his bottom lip, but didn't kiss him, waiting. Mickey broke the standoff, and kissed him first, eliciting a soft gasp from Ian.

That first kiss had been all it took to break Ian’s resistance. Ian devoured him, kissing him so deep, they provided each other oxygenated slips of tongue that set them afire.

They parted shakily, speed-removing the rest of their clothes, applying lube and an eon later he was full of Ian’s fingers, being stretched until he was gasping from it.

“Now,” he whispered urgently in Ian’s ear.

Without a pause, and almost like magic, Ian’s fingers slid out and suddenly he was filled to the brim, dazed by the utter lack of space left inside him as Ian fully seated his cock.

Faces close, they shared hot air, and were pressed so tight, daylight wouldn’t shine between them. He rarely let Ian have him this way, belly and emotions vulnerable to Ian’s ‘never miss a thing’ gaze. But, tonight, the sheer overwhelming Ianness swept him into something softer, slower.

Ian rocked him with short grinds, holding him down under the blanket, allowing no distance between their bodies or their mouths. Exposed by pleasure, the darkness gave Mickey no cover. He knew Ian could see him lit up inside. It felt like the light of his love was prickling underneath the surface of his skin and he was helpless to hide it.

He got close fast, drowning in Ian’s near constant kisses and God help him, Mickey loved how desperate Ian was for such a simple act of swirled tongues and wet pressing of lips. Ian’s warm palm gently held the back of his head as he devoured Mickey’s soft gasps, absorbing them with his mouth and his ferocity.

Mickey came first, sharp and unexpected, whimpering into Ian’s mouth and pulling hard at his thrusting hips. Mickey’s convulsions around Ian set him off too and he came in warm, thick pulses, huffing quietly against Mickey’s lips as he shuddered over him.

Shaking against each other, they kissed softly, tenderly as they came down. It was all head tilts and slow sliding of lips that made Mickey feel like they were floating in darkness, still connected and happily adrift.

He broke the deep warmth of their world by turning his head, a gargantuan effort that took minutes to accomplish because he’d forgotten how to breathe without air being kissed into him. Ian’s last kiss landed near his ear.

“Mick, I-” Ian began and Mickey covered his mouth.

He uncurled his legs and arms from around Ian and pushed him, needing distance for what was next. Ian, reluctant and sighing unhappily, pulled out and rolled off him.

Mickey dressed quickly, and bent to grab his boots from under Ian’s bed, huffing wryly and sparing a thought for Fiona’s earlier threat. He put them on while making good on his promise.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered gruffly. “Shouldn’t have wailed on you like that.” He knelt to tie his boots. Huffing, Ian swung his feet onto the floor, caging him between his knees.

“So, what was this? An apology bang?” Ian whispered down at him, incredulous. “You fuck me like that and it’s nothing more than you saying sorry?”

“It’s goodbye. My situation’s changed, man. Take this last shot for what it was. We had a good run, but it was gonna end one way or another even if I wasn’t getting married.”

Ian leaned down and in the meager glow of the streetlight, Mickey pretended not to see the glitter of tears in Ian’s eyes.

“You can water this down in your mind to whatever lets you look in the mirror, but you don’t get to fucking do that with me,” Ian whispered furiously. “You wanna leave, then do it honestly. Be a fucking man and tell me the truth.”

Mickey looked at him silently for a long moment, memorizing his face although he knew everything about it, down to the freckle inside Ian’s lower lip. He stood and Ian leaned back to look up at him, irrepressibly hopeful and undeserving of what he’s about to say.

He bent and kissed Ian softly, looking at him without blinking.

“I don’t love you.”

He’d felt the lie scream through every part of him and realized what it must feel like to burn alive.

Ian’s chin started to quake and Mickey turned away abruptly, giving his back to the hurt he’d inflicted for what was hopefully the last time.

He walked out and the last thing Mickey heard was Ian’s stubborn recognition of the monstrous untruth he’d whispered in the dark.

“I don’t believe you,” Ian had said tearfully as Mickey shut the door.

He’d known Ian wouldn’t give up, but he’d tried to stop it that night. And he’d tried again the day he got married. Now, the one time he did try to stop Ian, the one chance he’d had to keep him would’ve only cost him a truthful answer to “Don’t what?”

The thing that lived in him, waiting to gleefully snatch away his happiness wouldn’t let him answer and it had cost him everything.

The bitterness of his memories sends him scrambling back to Angie and away from that remembered hurt. He pulls her hand over his eyes and holds it there as hot tears, fresh and fast, start to stream again.

Mickey stays like that until he falls asleep again, letting her soft fingers soak up his pain.

_________________________

She wakes up to Mickey tugging her bra strap onto her shoulder. He’s on his side facing her, face swollen from a night of crying.

“You’re obsessed with bras,” she whispers, rolling over on her side too.

“Fuck you, no I’m not,” he whispers back hoarsely.

“You are. You snap my bra strap or tug it up or tell me it's showing constantly,” she teases softly. “You even know Mandy’s bra size. You got tit envy.”

“The fuck I do.” He reaches out to snap her strap and she swats at his hand.

Although he’s got circles under his raw and irritated eyes, he’s not as thinly held together.

“Sorry for trying to fuck you in the middle of last night,” he murmurs. “Might’ve been a lil' distraught.”

“I tried to fuck you after that Colin shit. We’re square.”

They lie together, blinking slowly in the early morning light.

“He’s probably on his way to basic now,” he says, resigned. “Almost called him twice before the sun came up.”

“Why didn’t you?” She scoots closer and reels back. His breath is awful.

“And say what? ‘Please choose me after I didn’t choose you?’” Mickey mumbles, covering his mouth with his t-shirt. “He was already on demon time to get away from me, my wife, Terry … do I need to keep going?”

She laughs softly. “The whole situation is kind of pitiful.”

“You fucked me, then fucked and fell in love with my coke-head brother, then tried to fuck me again,” he deadpanned tiredly. “Tell me again, from that ivy tower, what the pitiful peasants should be doing?”

“Ah, suck my dick. I wasn’t judging you. I was just … calling attention to the crustiness of it all.”

She tugs his forelock and he jumps her, blowing morning breath into her face while she tries to cover her nose.

“The entire Southside is crusty. Quit acting like it’s your first day here.”

He falls off her and grabs her hand, hard.

“I need something.”

She goes very still.

“If it’s pills, you’re fucked.”

“No. Not that shit,” Mickey says, looking at the ceiling. ”Just … if I don’t come by. If I don’t call … just check alright?”

This is code again. This is the call for help, as serious as it gets.

“I can do better than that. Stay here. Just the week though or my piece of shit beater-in-residence will start asking questions.”

“Svet’s gonna-”

“Do what exactly?” she interjects coldly. “Wish she fucking would.” She softens. “Bring Mandy if you want. She’s pretty and crusty. We stan that around here.”

“I love you.” It’s soft for him and hard won for her. He’s family.

“Like you got a choice. Go get your shit. We're gonna exist in this room like the world is on fire.”

He tugs on her bra strap and hops up.

“Like I said, tit envy, Mickey.” She laughs when he drops a pillow on her head. Face covered, she listens to him open her door.

“Ang?”

She uncovers her face to see him standing just outside her door, head hanging low.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For all of it.”

“You’ve done the same for me.”

“Yeah. I guess I’m just sayin’ I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t put up with my shit. Not many people would.”

“Well, you don’t ever have to find out what you would do. I ain’t goin' nowhere.”

She sits up and jiggles her bra straps, grinning at him.

“Admit it. Tit Envy,” she sings conspiratorially.

Mickey laughs, flipping her off as he walks away. She falls back, smiling. He’s hurt. Really hurt, but he’s going to pull through.

“Love you too, stupid,” Angie whispers. “Love you too.”

#gallavich #gallavich fanfic #my fic #Angie Zago #mickey milkovich #this friendship

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