#Gallavich Christmas

[gallavichgeek]

Through the Year

Chapter 12: December

Summary:

Christmas is in the air, Hope is growing way too fast and a surprise leads to Ian and Mickey receiving a Christmas gift to trump all Christmas gifts.

This fic is now complete.

Read it here or start from the start here.

[spookygingerr]

@nozenfordaddy made a gorgeous ficlet inspired by my little doodle 😭 read it here. it’s so precious and heart warming 💖

a lil christmas smooch for @nozenfordaddy 🎄

[bluelightning00]

Merry Christmas my babies!🎄

I m the singing one 🎶

[ohkate]

A beautiful sight, We're happy tonight, Walking in a winter wonderland.

[doshiart]

and if you wind up in the dark again just turn and call my name and if the fire in your chest comes out well, i'll hold you all the same [small hands by radical face] // [fanart for story by nosho, go and read!]

to dear nosho @creepkinginc 🍏 with my warmest wishes happy holidays <3

special thanks to ice @spookygingerr and willow @ian-galagher for organizing this sweet secret santa!

[milonata]

Christmas gallavich but kind of weird

these two stickers from my friend lol

[darthvaders-wife]

❄❤🎄Merry Christmas!🎄❤❄

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

When Franny Catches Santa Clause (Sort Of)

“Where the fuck are you going now?” Mickey complained at the sight of his husband sliding his coat and hat on.  

“Lip needs my help with some last minute Christmas shopping,” Ian said, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. Mickey wore a grumpy expression as they parted. “He still needs another gift for Freddie. I told you we were going after dinner.” 

“All the kid does is shit and sleep. The fuck does he need a gift for?” Mickey had envisioned how this evening was going to go, and now his plans were shattered. 

Rolling his eyes, Ian zipped up his coat. “It won’t take that long. We’ll be back before you know it. Why don't you go watch Frosty with Franny?”

“I’m a grown ass man, Gallagher. I don’t watch fuckin’ cartoons.”

“Hey, you ready to go?” Lip came to stand in the doorway. 

“Yeah, just give a second,” Ian responded, shoving his wallet into his back pocket. Mickey was on the bed, arms folded. “I promise we’ll be back soon. I’ll call you when we’re done, okay?” 

“Whatever,” Mickey said. “You’re giving me a blowie later.” He really did want one, had intended on getting one, but he mostly just said it because his brother-in-law was right there. He was rewarded with a grimace from Lip, who muttered Jesus Christ under his breath. 

A grin stretched over Ian’s face. His fingers cupped Mickey’s cheek. “That depends....Do you think you’ve been a good boy this year?” 

“Okay, Ian-” Lip interrupted, ruining their goddamn moment, “you think you reign it in until you get back?”

Mickey had a scathing retort for Phillip on the tip of his tongue, but then Ian lowered his head, whispering near his ear, “I have an idea for that extra tinsel if you’re interested.” 

“Shit, Red, you’re gettin’ me hard already,” Mickey groaned. His husband laughed, kissing him on the cheek. 

Lip remained where he was, unimpressed. “I really don’t know what you said to him,” he said on their way out. Ian said something Mickey didn’t catch. 

Blowing out a breath as he waited for his dick to go back down, Mickey realized he really didn’t have anything else to do. Maybe he’d go see what Little Red was doing after all. 

*

The television was on but Franny was no longer watching it. She wasn’t even sitting on the couch anymore, but rather, rummaging through the cupboard under the stairs. 

“Whatcha doin’, Little Red?” He raised a brow. “If you’re lookin’ for the presents, they ain’t there.” 

“I’m not looking for presents, Uncle Mickey,” she said distractedly. 

“Then what are are you lookin’ for?” 

Franny was halfway in the little cupboard, pulling herself out with a little frown. “It’s a secret.” 

“What kinda secret?” Mickey probed. She said nothing, just stubbornly smashed her lips together. “C’mon, Fran, you can tell me. Tell your favorite uncle what’s up.” 

“Uncle Ian is my favorite,” she corrected. 

Hmm. Nothing a little bribery couldn't fix but he’d do that later. “Fine, whatever,” he got down on his knees on the floor. “But you can tell me, okay?” 

She thought it over then sighed dramatically. He refrained from snorting. “I need a trap, Uncle Mickey.”

“Why? Someone giving you trouble?” 

“No,” Franny shook her head. “It’s for Santa. Mama says I can’t see him because I gotta be asleep but I wanna see him so I’m gonna set a trap.” 

Now, Mickey knew for a fact that a lot of the gifts were currently hiding in Lip and Tami’s trailer which Ian would be bringing in later that night. He should probably discourage her but fuck that. He was feelin’ a little petty after Ian seemingly decided he’d rather go with fuckin’ Lip and stand in those crowded ass stores than stay home with his husband. 

“You want any help, Fran?”

Her little face broke out into a beam. “Yeah!”

Mickey smirked. 

*

With the trap set, Mickey and Franny sat at the kitchen table, eating a shit ton of cookies that Debbie had baked. It helped that he'd already had the necessary supplies stored here so it made the task pretty easy. 

“Uncle Mickey?” Fanny swallowed her bite of cookie. “Have you ever seen Santa?” 

“Can’t say I have, Little Red,” Mickey said in between his mouthful. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Timmy said you can never see Santa but I said I would and he said you can’t and I said you could and-” 

“And what?” He cut in. 

“And...and Katie said there was no Santa Clause,” she looked sad now, looking up at Mickey with those big eyes of hers. “Is that true?” 

“No, fuck her,” he said immediately. “She’s just lyin’, Kid.”

“But why would she lie?” 

“Kids are fuckin’ mean,” then he remembered who he was sitting with, “no offense.” 

She shrugged. 

Debbie’s voice could be heard calling for her daughter. “Franny! Time for a bath!”

Franny looked like she wanted to object so Mickey said, “Ay, go ahead, Fran. We’ll go on a stake out later, okay?”

“Okay!” She gave him a fist bump when he held out his enclosed hand. 

*

Eventually, Lip and Ian came home, though significantly later than his husband had anticipated. 

“I’m sorry,” he said when they were both in bed, the lights out. Ian was waiting just a little longer before he went out to fetch the gifts. 

“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbled. 

“It was crowded,” Ian said in his defense. “It took nearly an hour at the checkout.” 

Mickey rolled over, glaring at him even though Ian probably couldn’t see it. “I coulda been getting a blowie.”

“I’ll give you one tomorrow,” Ian paused, “or later today, technically.” 

“When?” Mickey said skeptically. “We won’t get a moment’s peace until everyone goes to bed.” 

Ian’s hand slithered up Mickey’s night shirt. “Then I’ll just leave one last present for you to open...”

“You’re so fuckin’ lame,” it would’ve held more heat if it didn’t come out so breathy. 

Ian’s soft chuckle hit Mickey’s ears. He captured Mickey’s lips in a slow, sweet kiss. “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

Mickey’s hands came to rest on the back of Ian’s neck, matching his husband’s rhythm. When they parted, their foreheads were resting against each other’s. 

“Just wait until we get our own place,” Ian murmured. “We’re gonna decorate the shit out of it.” 

“Now hold up,” Mickey’s nose brushed against Ian’s. “Who says we’re doin’ any of that shit?”

“Oh, we’re doin’ it. Tree, lights, everything.” 

“No lights or decorations besides a tree. And not one of those real trees either. I ain’t cleaning up fuckin’ pine needles.” 

“Tree and lights. We can decorate along the walls. It’ll look really nice.”

“Dial back your HGTV fantasies. We gotta buy the place first.” 

Ian tilted his head, kissing him again. Mickey sorta melted into that, eyes fluttering. “What was that for?” 

“I’m just really glad we’re here together.” 

“Fuckin’ sap,” Mickey said with fondess. Ian clambered off the bed, feet hitting the floor. “You goin’ to get the presents?” 

“Yeah,” Ian was getting his shoes on. “Can you make sure Franny’s not awake? I caught her in the cupboard earlier. I think she was looking for them.” 

“Sure thing.” Mickey was glad Ian couldn’t see his smirk. He waited until he’d gone downstairs, hearing the creak of the door as it shut. Then he quickly, but quietly, made his way towards Franny and Debbie’s room. 

Debs was sound asleep but her daughter was not. Franny was already wearing her boots, her coat in hand. 

“Did we catch him, Uncle Mickey?” She asked, voice tinged with excitement. 

“Shh,” he motioned towards Debbie. “Don’t be too loud. We don’t want anyone to hear us.” 

She nodded seriously.

Together, they made their way downstairs and out through the backdoor. As soon as Mickey’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see a silhouette and he grinned. 

“Did we get him!?” Franny shouted. 

She hurried around the corner, her lips tugging into a frown when she saw who it was. 

“Uncle Ian! You’re in my trap!”

Mickey had an old bear trap made of rope and net that he’d never gotten rid of. Using one of the beams on the house, which was surprisingly sturdy, he tied it on there. He’d even used one of Franny’s stuffed animals for bait. Out here with dim lighting, Ian undoubtedly went over to pet it. He was a sucker for animals and Mickey knew it. 

So he hung there in the air, glaring daggers at Mickey. 

“Damn,” Mickey said, feigning disappointment, “must’ve missed him. Your uncle probably helped him escape.” 

“Uncle Ian,” Franny said reproachfully. “We were trying to trap Santa Clause!”

“Uh, why?” Ian’s annoyance was momentarily on pause. He looked between them both for an explanation. 

“I wanted to see him,” Franny said matter-of-factly. She wasn’t too happy that the jolly old bastard wasn’t here right now. “And you let him get away!”

“Ay, Fran,” Mickey shot his husband a smug grin, pulling her into his side, “don’t be too hard on your uncle. There’s always next year, right?”

She thought it over and nodded. 

He ruffled her hair. “Why don’t you go inside, get a cookie and go to bed? And don’t go peeking at any presents.” 

She giggled, hugging his waist. “Okay, Uncle Mickey. Goodnight!”

“Night, Kid,” he dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. She started to go up the stairs, calling out a goodnight to Ian as well. When the door shut, Mickey faced his husband, pleased with himself. 

“What the fuck, Mickey?” Ian looked close to throttling him. 

Mickey shrugged. “S’what you get for ditching me.” 

“Ditching you? I was helping Lip.” 

“Could’ve been given me blowies instead,” Mickey pointed out. “Could’ve gotten one yourself.” 

Ian breathed in through his nose, holding onto what little patience he had. “Get me out of this, Mick.” 

“Nah,” he decided. 

“What?”

“Why don’t you ask Lip to help you?” Mickey watched Ian’s eyes widen in disbelief. 

“You’re not fucking serious right now.” 

But Mickey was already on his way inside. “Maybe next time you’ll stick around.” 

“Mickey, it’s freezing out here!” 

“Then you better hope Phillip hears you,” Mickey said with a snicker, shutting the door. He could still hear Ian fussing- albeit muffled. He took a bite of a cookie, going up the stairs back to the warm bed, feeling very satisfied with himself.  

[jessij1997]

When I started drawing I had a completely different plan. But in the process that turned out.

The first Christmas card from the Gallagher-Milkovich family!

Marry fucking Christmas, guys.

[starry-nights-17]

Thinking about what Ian and Mickey are up to today...are they still living on the West Side ... do they have a Christmas Tree and pretty decorations...do they sleep in late...then exchange presents...drink hot chocolate with mini marshmallows...watch old movies snuggled up on the couch...visit with the Gallaghers...but Mickey just wants to go home, get Ian alone so they can use all the new sex toys they bought 🤔😂❤🎄

(Pics courtesy of @gallavichlove2211 thank you stacie x)

[sam-loves-seb]

Kidnapped at Christmas -- Chapter 1: The Club

"Yo!" someone shouts from the other side of the bar. "Can I get a beer?" When Ian looks up, he locks eyes with someone... familiar. No, not really, he doesn't know the guy or anything, but those eyes... Those piercing blue eyes that he recognizes from before. The ones that couldn't stop staring at him when he was on stage. The guy raises his brows, two annoyed points that jump up on his forehead. "Are you fucking deaf?" Ian blinks and his brain shuts down. His wires get crossed or something—the anger and the self-loathing intermix with lust and problem solving—and suddenly he has an idea. And then a plan. And absolutely nothing to stop him.

// holiday in handcuffs au

[ 4.9k | 1/6 | rated: m ]

[deathclassic]

A.U GUST

Week One: Seasons/Holidays August 7th: Christmas....in australia

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells Jingle all the way Christmas in Australia On a Scorching summer's day

@gallavichthings

[darlingian]

to all those who love them too <3 🎄

[gallacrafts]

Mick on a Dick & Time Warp Round Up!

Thank you to @jessij1997-gallavichxlove @callivich @mybrainismelted @blue-disco-lights for your wonderful crafts and fanfic to finished out 2024 - What a beautifully creative 12 months it's been!

Click on Theme 40 or Theme 39 in the tags to check out the individual crafts, reblog them, and leave love for our fabulous artists <3 and we will see you back here next Sunday for the February teaser...

[ohkate]

Gingerbread

Another offering for @distressedstressedlemonzest's @galladrabbles prompt, Gingerbread House. A more traditional offering this time ;). Word Count: 100

-----------

The first thing Mickey sees when he walks in is the glowing gingerbread house on the table. It’s obnoxiously festive, lights blinking like a goddamn runway.

He snickers and takes a look around at all the work Ian had been up to. Garland strung across the window, the stockings, and the tree in the corner, a present already wrapped underneath.

Mickey’s throat tightened. It’s not just the decorations; it’s the care, the effort, the love in every detail. To make their house a home. He wasn't sentimental about holidays but…he liked it.

He likes him. Loves him. Loves this.

[ian-galagher]

Three fucking weeks.

Three weeks of being lost in the thicket. Three weeks of thorns in his skin and mud soaked clothes. Three weeks of lights in the corner of his eye that always vanished without a trace when he so much as turned his head.

Twenty-one days of thinking he was going fucking insane.

A frustrated growl slipped through Mickey's lips.

Enough was enough.

"Where are y- … fuck, man, I don't even know your stupid name."

He barely had any time to register the gentle breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

"That's because you never asked."

--- and if you wind up in the dark again (just turn and call my name)

story by Nosho @creepkinginc

art by Alice @darthvaders-wife --- Twitter Redbubble Instagram Patreon BuyMeACoffee Commissions info  Ao3 Boosty