mickeylovebot

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019124/chapters/55041643

I haven’t posted on here for a while 🥺 but here’s a fic I just started and I’m kinda proud of it thank u if u read, read the tags for triggers tho

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10x09 & 1x09 (click for a bigger resolution)

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Mickey and the importance of the rings

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requested by @lifeasbritney

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mickey’s journal entry #2 (pretend there are a million misspellings) - 4 am rambling (insp by last ep)

it’s 4 in the fucking morning and I can’t stop fucking thinking about ian. he’s supposed to be gone now. I’m with fucking byron, who’s on the floor, and his breathing (on the floor) is actually irritating the fuck out of me but you know, at least he’s not ian. I feel so fucking pathetic. all I’ve ever wanted was ian and all he’s ever done is step back at the last moment. I can’t remember one instance where he’s done something worth even half the shit I’ve done for him. I’ve done everything for him. and I’m fucking done. and byron is so fucking annoying, why the hell did I choose the first red headed twink to come my way? maybe I do have a type. why can’t ian just leave me alone? get out of my head. every time I fucking see him in my brain it hurts. nobody else has been able to hurt me in that way and I want to fucking kill him for it. that’s a fucking lie, actually, I want to fucking marry him, still, for some reason. he just doesn’t want to marry me. has he ever? has he ever thought about it until now? I’ve thought about it for... years. I never thought it would actually come true. it’s not like my dad, my upbringing, my life, ever told me that I’d get to be in a marriage where we actually loved each other. that was fantasy shit. and when we sat down over fucking patty melts he made it real and he fucking took it all away again. and I haven’t felt okay since. I’ve drank, I’ve fucked, I’ve smoked, I’ve punched. nothing makes me feel any fucking better. I’m looking like I’m okay right now, with byron, because I know that after all this time, I deserve better. fuck. it’s hard to care about “better” when ian is right there, looking like a fucking kicked puppy, and I could take him back. we could be like we were. no. unless he can prove otherwise, I know this will just happen all over again. break up. mexico. leaving me at the fucking altar. I deserve to be loved. after all this fucking time, I deserve to be loved. but I don’t know if I could accept love from anybody but him. I hate his fucking guts.

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Love doesn’t “grow.” It doesn’t wait for you to discover it, it doesn’t fall like a gentle rain from the sky, it doesn’t tiptoe into your heart like a happy little bunny, and it doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with familiarity. Love is neither patient nor kind. Love attacks. It sneaks up like a pride of lions or a pack of hyenas and eats your heart out while you watch. Love is the bully on the playground who takes your lunch money and gives you a black eye in return, the arsonist who burns your house down with you in it, the witch who lures you into her home with candy and boils you alive for dinner. Love is raw, and violent, and instantaneous. You don’t fall in love; you get trampled by it.

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mickey’s journal entry #147 (pretend there are a million misspellings) - fuckin’ butterflies.

sometimes, when I feel the warmth in my chest and the fuckin’ butterflies in my stomach, I remember how before I met ian, I thought I’d never get those. I thought love was something for people who weren’t like me. love was for people who had money, for people who went to school, for people who didn’t have a collection of guns, for people who had a family. for people who didn’t do drug deals, who didn’t beat every second person they came across, who didn’t have trouble holding a serious conversation without a sarcastic or cold remark. I had my life all planned out. I’d be cold, angry, tough, nobody could touch me. I’d be the bad guy. sex would be just sex. love would be something from rom coms and fairytales. and then ian fucking ruined all of that. and he made me soft and I let him. love, for him, was something I couldn’t deny. it was strange, feeling happy around somebody. feeling nice when he held me. wanting, for some fucking reason, nothing else but to make him happy. and suddenly, despite all the odds, love was for me, too. the fuckin’ butterflies are mine and his and I don’t want to let them go. this life is for us.

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a thousand ways of saying you love him ft. Ian Gallagher

bonus - the traditional:

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People always think that the “tough” one in a ship is always the big spoon but typically they’re the little spoon because they’re with the one person they can be vulnerable with

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Ian calms Mickey down.

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gallavich sad/fluffy/happy ending oneshot - Couple’s Therapy #2 | Mexico

Mickey and Ian sat on the couch in their counsellor’s office. This was the second meeting. After the first one had gone well, Mickey’s anxiety about the situation had diminished and Ian was happy to go again. Their love for each other had only gotten stronger after getting their honest shit on the table. They were closer, always cuddling, spending less time staying up at night worrying.

“Well, no offence you two,” Nadine, their counsellor, began, “But after last time, I am expecting a doozy. You two have been through very... specific circumstances together. And I am curious to learn more and excited to help you both through more.” Nadine smiled. She had a look in her eyes that seemed to say that Mickey and Ian were a miracle.

“Glad to hear it,” Ian laughed half-heartedly.

“Now, what should we discuss today, did either of you have any ideas?”

“Uh...” Ian thought. He bounced around ideas in his head, but none of them stuck out.

Mickey, however, “I want to talk about Mexico,” he blurted.

Ian looked at Mickey at first with surprise and then with a somewhat sad, knowing look. “Okay, Mickey,” he agreed, “Let’s talk about Mexico.”

This time, Ian and Mickey were holding each other’s hands for support. Ian gave Mickey’s hand a squeeze... to tell him that he’s listening.

“Mexico? What happened in Mexico?” Nadine inquired.

“It was before Mexico, actually,” Mickey began explaining to Nadine. “I’d broken out of prison. I was on the run from the cops and... fuck, I wanted to be with Ian,” he and Ian both had lopsided smiles, “And when he met me at the docks... even though he had a boyfriend, it was pretty fuckin’ intense, in a good way, if I do say so myself. And he agreed to go to Mexico with me, sorta. He got in the vehicle and we went and... well, shit happened on the way, but that’s not the point. He left. At the border. He wouldn’t go with me.”

“I see.” Nadine said.

“I’m sorry, Mick–”

“No, no,” Mickey interrupted, “I don’t want you to apologize. You had your reasons.”

“Can we step back for a moment and talk about this?” Nadine asked them both.

“Yeah,” Ian said. Mickey nodded nervously.

“Okay, Mickey, can you talk about how you felt when Ian met up with you and when he left at the border?”

Mickey thought for a moment, and then began, “When I thought he was going to Mexico with me, I felt high.” He gave a small laugh, reminiscing, “I felt like, I don’t know, I had everything. I broke out of prison, I was going to flee the fuckin’ country, and I had him there. There was nothing else I needed, you know? Ever since I came out, and I was with him, I felt like it was him and I against the world. No one else got it. No one else could get it.” He looked at Ian proudly, and then his face fell, “And then when he said he wasn’t going... one step before the finish line... I don’t know. I felt... too fuckin’ much. It felt like the opposite of having everything. It felt like having nothing. Going through the border, successfully even, and having a life out of prison felt like I was watching a fuckin’ boring movie. I wasn’t me anymore. I was on the outside, looking in, feeling like a fuckin’ robot with everything I did. And I’m not sayin’ that’s all his fault. I have my own shit I have to worry about. But I felt betrayed, too, you know? Like he was right there. He was going to go with me, and then he wasn’t. And it was like losing the reason it was all worth it after thinking that reason would be coming to Mexico with me. And... fuck. I’ll admit it; I still feel betrayed. And I don’t want to.” He looked at Ian, “Because I love him.”

Ian’s eyes were watering at this point. He was wiping them with his sleeves. Mickey could only look at him for a second more before looking away.

“Thank you, Mickey. Ian, do you hear him?” Nadine asked gently.

“Yes, Mickey,” He looked at him. “I hear you.”

“Ian, do you want to tell us how you felt during that situation?”

“Yeah,” he wiped the remainder of his tears off and nodded, “I really thought I was gonna go with him. I was happy, too.” He looked at Mickey with love, “He was the only person who could ever make me feel that way. Even my other boyfriends, they could never... it was never the same. And as we got to the border, that scared me. I was living a really simple life. And I was scared to get back in the game... back into really being with someone who had that power over me. Mickey and I had never been... stable. I didn’t know if we would survive in Mexico and that was scary. Leaving him hurt, though, and it made me wonder if I’d made the wrong decision. I cried all the way home. And in the back of my head, I was always kinda comparing my other boyfriends to him. I pretended, I lied to myself, saying that we weren’t good together. And maybe objectively most people would look at it that way too, but I knew he was the only person who could bring real feeling out of me. And that scared me. And that’s why I didn’t go with him. I know you said not to apologize, Mickey,” He looked at Mickey again, “But I’m sorry.”

Mickey blinked away the beginning of tears.

“Do you hear Ian, Mickey?”

“I do, but– Can I say something else?” Mickey looked at both Nadine and Ian. Nadine looked at Ian for an answer.

“Go ahead, Mick.” Ian said.

“I guess... the thing that hurts most is that you wouldn’t take a chance on me. You know, I’d, I’d go to fuckin’... Russia for you, I don’t know. I’d flee the country to Russia or fucking... China for you. I’d take that chance. And I just worry that... I don’t mean that to you. And I know it’s a lot to ask, and it might be unfair. But if I don’t mean that to you, I don’t know. It hurts.”

Ian’s heart sunk. He got it now. “Mickey... You mean everything to me. You’re right, okay?” Ian grabbed Mickey’s other hand and held them both. He looked Mickey right in the eyes. “I should have taken that chance. But right now, we’re married, and I’m taking that chance every day, because you could really ruin me. You have all that power over me now and I’m letting you. Letting somebody in like this was scarier than anything I’ve done. But you’re worth it, Mick, you mean that to me.”

Mickey was speechless. His breath was caught in his throat. Ian had a fucking way of making him cry.

“Do you hear him, Mickey?”

Mickey nodded slightly and looked at Ian. “I hear you, Ian.” He promptly wrapped his arms around Ian and hugged him tightly as he cried into his shoulder. “Fuck,” he laughed and pulled back, sniffling and wiping away snot. “Sorry if hugs aren’t allowed in the office or whatever,” he said to Nadine.

Nadine smiled, proud that the two were communicating. “Don’t worry. They sure are. Now, how about we talk about how you two can talk about these things at home when they come up.”

Nadine talked to them about communication, respect, how to step back when things got too heated, how to listen, mindfulness, and how to talk to each other in ways that aren’t antagonistic. Each of them thought some points were cheesy, but still, they listened. And in the coming weeks, they tried to work what Nadine told them into their everyday lives.

To their surprise – it worked.

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Mickey Milkovich being gentle