#good morning mr gallagher

[myocsfanfictions]

South Side Story

Shamelesse Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

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Chaspter 9

“Babe?” Veronica’s voice as she opened the door got Desna's attention. She was frying a couple of eggs. “Coupons?”

Desna nodded her head, “Pretended to jog, got the one ones on 53rd Street, they are on the table,” she said, gesturing towards the sheets of paper.

“How did it go?” She asked, amused as V let out a laugh.

“That’s always so much fun,” Veronica said, sitting on the chair with a big smile. Sometimes, they did that, and both of them were with the Gallaghers. V would usually go with either Ian or Lip, and she flirted with the guy who delivered food in shops so that the guys could steal some goods. Desna would leave the house early in the morning with Debs to steal the sheets of coupons from the front house.

The Gallaghers needed help arriving at the end of the month. V and Kev, on the other hand, didn’t have problems, so Veronica would always do things to help the family, like helping them steal or letting them borrow their things. That made Desna like Veronica even more.

“What about Kev?” The woman asked, taking the newspaper and turning the pages.

“Still asleep,” Desna said with a snort, “Butt in the air,” V laughed again. Just then, Ian opened their back door to put a bottle of juice next to V.

“Thanks, handsome,” she said, giving him the coupons. Desna waved at the boy as he went out.

“I’m sorry about Kev and me,” Veronica said, making Desna giggle as she put the eggs on two plates.

“About what?” She asked, walking towards the table.

“We are loud,” V took a breath, “And not subtle at all.”

“That’s no problem,” Desna assured, “You are in love,” Desna said, starting to eat her breakfast, “Sex is part of it, and with the chemistry that you have, it’s just inevitable.”

She knew well what it meant to have someone close with whom she felt a connection and attraction so great that it was almost impossible to stop her from touching him, holding him, and kissing him. She envied what V and Kev had on some level, knowing that she’d never have it with Lip.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about this kind of stuff,” V said, but Desna shook her head.

“Nothing you do could give me a wrong impression,” she said honestly, squeezing V’s hand. “If anything, I’d like to be like you.”

V leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss on the hair, “Thank you, babe.”

Desna loved her relationship with both Kev and V. They knew how to be over the top, but that was just their character. Desna could not have asked for better guardians.

Her day went on. Desna went to school, took an English test, and set with Ian at lunch.

“So, will you ever make one?” Ian asked from next to her as she was finishing the sketch of a shirt on the pages of a notebook.

“I can’t see,” she reminded him before shrugging her shoulder. “This is just a hobby.”

“You fix my ripped shirt, alright,” he said encouragingly, and a smile appeared on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said, “And what should I do then?”

“Sell them?” Ian answered.

“Where?” Desna asked, and Ian shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t know. But wherever it is, can I get a share?” Ian said with a smile making her laugh.

“Hey, I’ll do all the work!” She complained.

“But I gave you the idea,” he said back. She looked at him fondly, before leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Only because you’re sweet,” this made him chuckle. Then, they stood in silence for some moments.

“How are you?” Ian asked suddenly, “Yesterday you were pretty shaken up…”

Ian had told her that Frank had attached him because Mr. Jackson had hit him after what happened at Karen’s house. Desna was sure he had questions, like everyone else in that house who was not V or Lip, after the way she behaved.

“I’m good, Ian,” she answered, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t of any help.”

But he shook his head, “Don’t worry, really…” he said, “Lip wanted to go to talk to you, has he?”

Desna nodded her head, thinking back at how happy and relieved she had been as she had seen him in her room.

“Then Karen came to look for him,” Ian chuckled bitterly at her words, and she moved to look at him when she felt him shake his head.

“What?” She asked.

Ian took a breath. “Karen is a whore-“

“Ian!” Desna exclaimed, surprised.

“And I do not understand why he’d let you go and keep her,” his words made her look down. Lip was, in fact, acting with Karen as if she were his girlfriend. Bringing her home, cuddling before everyone—he had never done that with her…

“Because he likes her more,” she muttered, feeling her mouth going dry, “Probably he just thinks I’m good for fuck,” Ian turned to look at her, observing her expression that probably was giving away the awful feelings that she had inside of her.

“Then he’d be an idiot,” Ian said before kissing her cheek, to which she gave a small, sad smile.

“Or maybe, I am…” she said, scoffing, leaning back on her chair, “I mean, he told me from the start what he wanted. He wanted to fuck, not string attached, none of this shit,” she ranted, “What was I expecting from him?”

“So now is your fault?” Ian protested before shaking his head, “Listen, Lip knows very well how to be an asshole.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” she muttered just before her cell phone went off. Desna frowned as she went through her bag. Her ability to never find her phone was like a superpower.

As she finally found it, her brows frowned, reading the name that had appeared on the scream.

“It’s Steve,” she said, looking up at Ian.

“Steve?” Desna was quick to press the green button, “Hello?”

“Des, hey,” Fiona’s voice came from the other side.

“Fiona, what’s up?” She asked, looking up at Ian.

Fiona took a breath, “Did you, by any chance, have seen Frank somewhere?”

“Frank?” she asked, making Ian frown. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t leave the house yesterday. Why? What’s happening?” Desna said as Ian moved closer to try to listen.

“I can’t find him,” she admitted, her worry was evident in her tone.

“I… I’m sure he is alright,” Desna tried to say. Frank could be anywhere by now since he usually drank until he couldn’t even find his ass with his own hands, “At the Alibi?”

“I tried,” she answered nervously, “Kev said that he drank and went away. I’m very worried, Des,”

“He is probably sleeping somewhere,” which happened other times. Then, he’d probably appear out of nowhere looking for beer.

“No, this is strange,” Fiona said through the phone.

“Why?”

“It’s last Friday,” at her words, Desna's eyes widened. The Disability-check, Frank Gallagher would never miss fresh money. It never mattered where he was, he would always show up for his disability-check.

“Oh, shit…” Desna muttered, looking at Ian, who, by the face, must have listened to his sister, “Alright, Ian is here with me; we’ll find Lip and come back home.”

“Thank you, Des,” Fiona said, letting out a heavy breath.

“We’ll find him,” Desna assured her before ending the phone call and standing up alongside Ian.

“Let’s find your brother,” Desna said.

“Okay, I go right, you go left,” he said, pointing in the direction he was talking about.

“Alright,” she nodded before starting to run through the corridor, hoping to find Lip as soon as possible and not find him busy in any activities she really didn’t need to know anything about.

As she passed by, someone grabbed her by the arm, making her stop to meet Iggy Milkovich’s face. “Hey, where are you running to?” he asked with a smirk, his eyes traveling towards her chest.

“I gotta go,” she said, trying to pull her arm back from his grip, “Can you let me go?”

“Would you blow me again if I do?” Desna’s eyes widened at his words, “That mouth works magic, and you’re gorgeous as you’re at it. Did you know that?” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. The way he was smirking made her uneasy, “I’d like to see it in person again,” but she was finally able to free herself from his grip, shoving him away from her.

“Stay the fuck away!” She exclaimed, making him let out a low chuckle; as he got close again,

“Be very careful,” he said, “We don’t want the school to know,” Desna’s breath got stuck in her throat.

“To know what?” she whispered, but then Mikey Milkovich's voice echoed in the alley.

“Iggy, leave Sweetcheeks alone,” he yelled, “We have to fucking go!”

Iggy chuckled again as he passed by her to walk towards his cousin.

“To know what?” she asked again, but he only smirked before disappearing into the crowd. What did he mean? Desna hadn’t liked those words at all, especially the way his eyes looked at her. She felt nervous all of a sudden, and her heart was beating loudly in her chest as she kept asking herself what he meant by those words.

“Des!” Ian’s voice made her turn. “Found him!” Ian and Lip were making their way toward her, avoiding other students. Desna took a breath and put her hair behind her ears to try to calm herself down. Once she felt ready, she made her way toward the Gallagher brothers.

“I’ve already explained him everything,” Ian said stopping in front of her.

Lip frowned, “You alright?” Desna turned to look at him, nodding her head.

“Yeah,” she said, her throat feeling very dry. "Let’s go find Frank.”

*****

Tag List: @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit

If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

[callivich]

A little birthday morning ficlet for Ian’s birthday! 🎉🎂🎁

——

“Hey.” Kiss. “Happy.” Kiss. “Birthday.” Kiss.

Ian is gently roused from his sleep by his husband hovering over him, pressing soft kisses to his face. He smiles, eyes still closed, and enjoys the warmth of his bed and the comforting weight of Mickey half on top of him.

“I know you’re awake, asshole.” Kiss. “Open your eyes.”

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to call me an asshole on my birthday.”

“Hmm, ok. Open your eyes, Gallagher.”

“Oh, last name? Too formal. Nope.”

“Fuckin’…..Ian, husband, open your eyes.”

That does it and he’s greeted with the sight of a smiling Mickey wearing a shiny party hat. “Oh. Love the hat.”

“Mmm. Knew you’d like it. This is a one day only thing and I’m not letting anyone else see me wear it.”

Ian adjusts it and strokes his hands down Mickey’s face. “You look very cute, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Thought last names were too formal. And I’m not fuckin’ cute.”

“You are. And it’s my birthday so I can say and do whatever I want.”

“I’m beginning to regret promising you that.”

“Too late. C’mere.” He drags Mickey closer for a kiss, letting his hands wander down his husband’s body.

“What do you want first - your birthday breakfast or your birthday breakfast?” A wink and the subtle grind of his hips let Ian know that the second phrase is not food related.

Ian grins and is about to choose the second when his stomach rumbles. He laughs and Mickey jumps off him. “Guess that settles it. Wait here, birthday boy.”

Shuffling up so he can rest his back against the headboard, he can’t stop smiling. He hears his phone pinging with messages that are probably all from his family but those can wait. Birthday mornings are always a husband-only event. They’ll be plenty of time for family at the dinner tonight.

Mickey returns with a tray - one that Ian has never seen before and it warms his heart that Mickey has either bought or stolen it especially for him. He places the tray on Ian’s lap and settles on the bed next to him.

Ian knows he’s being stupid but he begins to tear up a little bit at what’s on the tray. Coffee steaming hot with a splash of milk, just how he likes it, in the ‘world’s best husband’ mug, his medication for the morning, and a plate of donuts resting on top of colourful paper napkins covered in ‘happy birthday’.

“Chocolate creams. Got ‘em from that fancy place that just opened up.”

They look so good - round and fluffy, decorated with glossy chocolate and in red icing a tomato shape and the word ‘Ian ❤️’.

“The icing is strawberry and the chocolate is apparently some special stuff. Organic or whatever. If you don’t like them, I can run out to Sweet Susan’s-”

“Mick. I love them.”

“No crying.”

“I’m not. I’m just happy.”

“Ok. I’ll allow it.” He swipes a thumb under each of Ian’s eyes. “Now try one before I eat them all.”

Ian moans in delight as he takes the first bite, they’re still slightly warm which means Mickey got up early to run out and pick them up. (He tries to stop himself from tearing up again.) The donut is better than any he’s had before - the dough is light and airy, the filling creamy and rich, and the topping is just the perfect amount of sweet. He eats two and contemplates a third one but decides to save it for later.

Mickey goes and gets his own cup of coffee and comes back to nestle into Ian’s side. They talk about the family dinner later that night and what Ian wants to do for the rest of the day. After presents, of course. Mickey downplays them but Ian can tell he’s put a lot of thought into them.

“You want them now or-”

“Maybe after the rest of my birthday breakfast?”

“Oh.” Mickey grins, taking the tray and placing it on the floor. “Yeah, the donuts were just the uh…appetiser.”

“Uh-huh.” Ian’s wriggling out of his boxers. Mickey’s doing the same but then he reaches for the hat. “No. The hat stays on.”

“Why?”

“Want you to ride me wearing the party hat.”

“Of course you do.” He laughs and climbs into Ian’s lap, naked apart from the hat. “Happy Birthday lover.”

“Thank you, lover.”

[comfy-whumpee]

I would give my firstborn child to see Jax testifying against Savvie

Finally coming for Anon's firstborn, sorry for the wait. Also sorry about any weird formatting, tumblr forced me to use the new editor and it's shite. As always, written with the help of Savvie's writer @ashintheairlikesnow

CN: implied noncon, emotional and physical abuse, medical malpractice, broken bones, victim blaming.

@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektricwhumpktric-whump, @that-one-thespianan, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyreadread, @eatyourdamnpears

-

THE CLERK: Thank you, sir. You may be seated. Please lean forward into the mic and keep your voice up, for the record. Can you state your name and spell your last name for me, please?

THE WITNESS: Jackson Gallagher. G-A-L-L-A-G-H-E-R.

THE CLERK: Thank you.

"She tried to get that corrected," he mutters. "They told her to shut up."

BY MR ROOKS:

Q. Good morning, Mr Marcoset.

"See? She told him to do that."

MX. WHITE: Could the witness be referred to by his legal name, please?

THE COURT: Yes. The witness will be referred to as Mr Gallagher.

BY MR ROOKS:

Q. Good morning, Mr Gallagher.

A. Good morning.

“Took him a while to get to the point, that day. And it was a stupid point. Delay tactic.

Q. Mr Gallagher, is it true that you were alone in Mrs Marcoset’s home on multiple occasions when she went out?

A. Yes.

Q. Is it true that you were not told what she was doing on those trips?

A. Yes.

Q. Is it true that you spent periods of time in a separate part of the house to her, unaware of what she was doing?

A. She locked me in the basement sometimes, yes.

Q. Even that aside, Mr Gallagher, is it true that you cannot be sure of what she was doing at all times?

A. Yes.

“See. Load of crap just to get to the point.”

Q. In that time, is it possible she could have met with other man?

A. I guess. Yes.

Q. And did these trips continue throughout 20XX, before Mrs Marcoset announced her pregnancy?

A. –Yes.

Q. Can you be certain, Mr Gallagher, that you are the father of her children?

A. I’m certain. You can ask her yourself.

“She was so fucking offended. But she knew why it was done. They ordered the paternity tests after that, and that was another fucking week gone.”

BY MX WHITE:

Q. Good morning, Mr Gallagher.

A. Good morning.

Q. How was your arm broken?

A. It was a few months before she – Savvie – said she was pregnant with Isabella. I was taken to visit her uncle, Isaac Marcoset. He asked her to bring me, she said. When we arrived I was taken to a room, with the people he called staff all lined up inside.

Q. For clarity, Mr Gallagher, what do you mean by ‘the people he called staff’?

A. I met a lot of people who worked in the house. They were called staff, but I never saw them being paid or leaving the property, and some of them said they were born there.

Q. Thank you, Mr Gallagher. Please continue. What happened when you were brought before the staff?

A. Isaac took my arm in both hands and broke it. I hadn’t seen him in a while, I didn’t know what it was about. I gave him lip, of course – the others all looked scared and I wanted to make them feel better. It hurt a lot. But I told him he wasn’t so big and scary. He pushed me into the wall for that and yanked on my arm till it came out the shoulder.

Q. Were you given medical treatment?

A. Yeah, Stewart set my shoulder.

Q. By Stewart, are you referring to the Box Boy owned by Isaac Marcoset, designated Fifteen?

A. Well, yeah, but can I call him Stewart? He was only ever called the steward when I was there, but I thought I should call him by a real name. I’ve been a number before and it’s important, having your name. He liked it.

Q. I understand. Let the record show that ‘Stewart’ refers to Fifteen.

MR ROOKS: Could the Box Boy be referred to with his legal name, please? As we have settled the matter of using legal or chosen names in the court.

“That pissed me off. But the lawyer told me later it probably backfired ‘cause I never managed it on the first try. Stewart is Stewart. Made me look like a good guy, to humanise him like that.”

BY MX WHITE:

Q. Did you receive any other treatment?

A. They took me to a doctor who knew about me being a captive. He cast the arm and gave me painkillers.

Q. Did he give the painkillers to you directly?

A. No, actually. He gave them to Savvie.

Q. Describe your access to pain relief through your recovery period.

A. It was – erratic. Savvie controlled when I ate and slept, and she took over that too. She didn’t let me touch them. I was told to stay in the bed, her bed in her bedroom, and she would bring them over when the alarm went off. But most times she’d say I had to kiss her first, or ask if I really wanted them, before she let me have them. Or she’d forget. I’d remind her if she was there, but if she wasn’t, there was nothing I could do. A few times she’d be in a bad mood and say she was too upset to get them, or I’d get them if I apologised to her. One time I remember, she turned off the alarm. I could see the sun and I knew it was time. But when I asked her, she said it wasn’t time yet. She asked if it hurt, and then she told me I had to lift it see if it could go higher than yesterday.

Q. Who took over your household work during that time?

A. Hannah. She’d come by a few times a week and work on cleaning the whole house, same as I had to. I spoke to her a bit. She had a collar, same as me.

Q. How did Ms Marcoset react?

A. She was furious. The first time I met Hannah, she was out. When she came home she grabbed my arm, the broken arm, and squeezed it as hard as she could. She said I wasn’t like the others, I wasn’t staff. Because she loved me. I told her she was hurting me, the pain was – I can’t describe it. Really f- really bad.

Q. Did Ms Marcoset realise she was hurting you?

A. Yes. You could see it in her eyes. They went wide, and – and her breathing picked up, like she was excited. When I said she was hurting me, she said she knew. I asked her why. She said – because I can. Because I want to.

“God, Jax.”

“…Yeah.”

Q. Did she release you?

A. Eventually. She made me wait. I thought I was going to be sick, or pass out. I couldn’t breathe right. She just told me to look at her. She said, she said I should be able to hurt a, a little. For her. I had, she left nail tracks on my arm. It was out of the cast, I don’t think I said. She dug her nails in so hard I had lines of blood. Those ones didn’t scar. I have a lot on my back, from her, but – a lot of nail scratches on my back. They weren’t the only ones.

“It gets worse.”

BY MR ROOKS:

Q. You told the court that you were treated by a doctor, Mr Gallagher. Are you referring to Dr Russell Leppelman?

A. Yes, I think that’s him.

Q. Is it true you were taken to him by Mrs Marcoset for that treatment, immediately after you were injured by Isaac Marcoset?

A. Yes. Stewart, uh, Fifteen told her to.

Q. Is it true that Dr Leppelman provided you with a cast, painkillers and a treatment plan?

A. Well he refused at first. He called me a pet. But—

Q. Did he treat you?

A. He did, yes.

Q. Is it true that he treated you in private, away from Mrs Marcoset?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he ask whether you had any allergies?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he perform a wellbeing check?

A. What does that mean?

Q. Did he ask after your personal safety and mental health?

A. Yes.

Q. Did he act unprofessional towards you in any way?

A. Not in the treatment.

Q. So you were separated from Mrs Marcoset, alone, with a healthcare professional who was attending to your wellbeing and health, but you did not ask him to help you escape the captivity you claimed?

A. I did, actually.

“She didn’t know about that bit. Figured they’d ask it, they asked it about every time I admitted to meeting another fucking soul.”

A. I told him I was a slave, and he said I should call myself lucky I wasn’t treated like the others. He said I was a pet. He said he played golf with Isaac and none of his people dressed as nice as the clothes I had on. I asked if I got patient confidence and he said yes, unless I was rude, basically.

Q. So you had patient confidence, and you asked him for help?

A. I asked him if he would help me and he said he wouldn’t.

Q. He invited you to share what you wanted in patient confidence, is that true?

A. Yes, true enough. I asked if she was on birth control because I was worried about kids. That surprised him. He said she wouldn’t keep her kids as slaves.

Q. Did he provide you with that information?

A. He told me she was. I asked if he knew about the other slaves, the staff. He said he knew. But he said she wouldn’t hurt her own kids.

Q. Why do you consider that an unreasonable belief?

A. He knew her. He said, what did you expect from a Marcoset? He knew her dad and her uncle, he knew about the staff and that some of them were blood relatives.

Q. That has not been proven. Did you actually ask him for help escaping captivity?

A. I did. I could see he didn’t like the idea of her having kids. He knew that would be bad. So I said, if eventually she goes off birth control, and there are kids now, would he help? He told me not to worry about it.

Q. Is it true that he did offer to help, although he believed it would not happen?

A. Not really. He said I was playing for pity. He said I should be good and, lie back, and think of England, and put up with it. He said I should try harder to make her happy with me. He said, specifically said, he wouldn’t tell anyone about me.

Q. Dr Leppelman said he would help, in the situation you imagined, if he believed the children would benefit from his intervention. Is that true?

A. Yes. But—

Q. So did you ask for help escaping from captivity for yourself?

A. No, because he told me before that point that he wouldn’t. He also hit me. Twice.

Q. Is it true that he explained his family was under threat?

A. He mentioned it. He said I wasn’t worth it.

Q. Do you consider it unreasonable for him to prioritise his family over a stranger?

A. Not me. But he knew about the child slaves. He should have at least done something for those kids.

Q. But is it true that you did not ask for help for your own sake, Mr Gallagher?

A. Yeah.

Q: Thank you.

“There you go. One page out of a fuckin’ hundred. Do you get the picture?”

Kieran set the transcript down. “Thank you for sharing that with me, love. I don’t think that was easy for you.”

“Nah. But it’s been…bloody hell. Ten years. You never looked it up even once. You of all people should get to know.”

Jax finally stops pacing, settling down on the sofa next to his partner. Kieran holds still, letting him lean close.

“Izzy’s probably read it all five times over, anyway,” Jax adds, and Kieran surprises himself by being able to smile.

[heymacy]

hey hey! let's doooooo 'morning' if you're still doing the wip game 💛 hope you have a wonderful day ☀️

hello sweet anon! "morning" doesn't appear in any of my WIPs (yet) so here's a drabble! ☀️

**

Sunlight floods the room, drips down the walls and pools on their pillows. Ian rolls over, hair soaked with daylight, and lets his eyes flutter open. He takes it in. The bright yellow haze. The dust hanging in the air. The man asleep beside him, breaths steady. He smiles. Rolling over, he traces Mickey’s arm with his fingertips, featherlight. Mickey stirs. “You awake?” Ian asks softly and Mickey hums. “I am now,” he says. Ian can hear the smile in his voice. “Good morning Mr. Gallagher,” Ian says, brushing his lips on Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey chuckles. “Good morning Mr. Milkovich.”

[187days]

Day One Hundred Twenty

The Monday after setting the clocks forward is always a bit brutal. It’s dark again in the morning, so we all drag ourselves out of bed, and everything just feels a bit... off. 

I rallied and taught a decent lesson on Buddhism in World, though. I talked my way through some board notes comparing/contrasting it with Hinduism (so my students built themselves a resource for the content quiz at the end of the unit), and answered questions as they came up. Then I showed a video clip about the day in the life of a Buddhist monk, which generated a lot of comments. Lastly, we read an article about the eightfold path, and discussed ways in which each step could be practiced. Again, I got a lot of comments, and I also got a lot of questions in my Block 3 class.

I got a few in my Block 2 class, too, but a handful of the boys were just not into learning today, and that disrupted everyone. Two of them did change their behavior as the lesson went on. I like to think it’s because my response to their antics was to tell them there’s no point in acting less capable than they really are; But whether it was that, or something else, they started to focus, they got interested in what we’re learning, and everything was good. As for the others, I kept having to tell them to quiet down, stop hitting each other, get off their phones, that kind of thing. 

So then I told them that I could continue to suffer the disruptions, I could lose my temper over them, or something like that, but I’m actually just going to reassign seats next class. Most students caught the right speech/action connection there, and I got a few golf claps. And, from the students who were being disruptive, I got a grudging acceptance. They know when they’re not acting right, and they know when my response is fair and reasonable or not. 

In theory, next class will be tomorrow, but there’s a nor’easter coming, so it might be Wednesday instead. 

Back to today, though: during Block 4 Mrs. R’s AP Lang students joined my APGOV students for a videoconference with Matt Gallagher, a US Army veteran, author, and recent volunteer in Ukraine. He talked about the experience of training civilians in Lviv early on in the war, and about traveling around the country as a journalist more recently, and then fielded a bunch of questions. Students asked about his writing, his personal experiences, his opinions on various facets of the war, and about the actions the US and other countries have taken. It was a smart, multi-layered conversation that both Mrs. R’s students and mine said afterwards was really cool. For mine, it’s about understanding policy impacts in a real up-close way. It’s one thing to talk about the choices a government makes in an abstract way, it’s another to examine the actual results- positive or negative- of those choices, and the way they impact people. 

So that was an awesome class, and the best way to end the school day. It wasn’t the end of my day, though. We had a meeting as a ninth grade house after school (discussing upcoming college visits for the ninth graders- we’re finally bringing those back!), and then I had to go to spring sports sign-ups this evening. The snow may be coming, but track season still begins in just a few days!

[reginaregen]

outrageous - chapter 1

"Peter! Peter!" Debbie continued to poke Peter, who was sound asleep. "Peter! I have to go home! Tina is going to kill me!" She grabbed the boy by the shoulders and shook him wildly. "PETER!"

Peter cried out as he woke up in a panic. "WHAT? What? Who?" He opened his eyes and greeted Debbie with a smile on his face. "Good morning, baby."

"Peter! It's 6:30. Mr. Stark doesn't know I came here last night. Besides, if I don't make it home in time, Tina…"

Peter grabbed the girl by the waist and gently pulled her onto him. "I'll drive you. I haven't been to a Gallagher family reunion in a long time."

Debbie calmed down. "Seriously?"

"Visiting my girlfriend's family always makes me happy." Valentina was Peter's biggest fan, a smart and nice kid. Debbie's previous choices in men nearly caused her to have a heart attack. Her previous lover before Peter was Billy Maximoff, the nephew of the neighborhood drug lord Pietro Maximoff. Debbie was thirteen at the beginning of this terrible two-year relationship, and when he came to Valentina and asked for birth control pills, the girl's first move was, of course, to go and knock on their door. Wanda, the boy's mother, said she was overreacting. She had given birth to twin boys when she was fourteen, so what was the big deal? Her strange husband, Vision, had come to the door and apologized. He was a gentleman, polite, and very calm. The entire neighborhood, including Valentina, was surprised how such a man had survived in the Maximoff family. And he was a lawyer! He was probably the only person in this slum with a real-world profession.

Peter started to kiss Debbie as she lay on top of him when she stopped him. "Wait, I didn't calculate my calendar! If I get pregnant, Valentina will kill us both!"

The boy whined. "I don't like this calendar thing at all. Can't we use a condom?"

"But I love the feeling of you, Peter," Debbie whispered as she placed several kisses on Peter's neck that drove him crazy.

"Oh my God! Debbie!"

Debbie giggled. She finished the math in her head. "Okay. We can do it."

Peter swallowed hard as he watched Debbie, sitting on his

stomach, take off her shirt. "When do you think we can switch to birth control?"

"The last time I suggested something like this to Valentina, she was about to set Billy's family's house on fire! She would come over here and set Tony on fire. Do you want to watch that?"

Peter seemed to be hypnotized as he moved his hands to her breasts. "I'm a horny teenager in love. I don't care if the world goes down as long as I can have sex with you."

The girl giggled and began to move her hands over him with a slowness that drove Peter crazy.

At the same time, Tony, unaware of the risky morning sex between the two horny teenagers in his house, was rolling his eyes at Pepper, who was having coffee with him in the kitchen. "You should spend more time with him," she said. "I know it's been a year since we lost May, but still…"

Tony, who had to adopt Peter after Aunt May's tragic death, wasn't the most loving father in the world. He was annoyed that the boy kept calling him sir. He was also annoyed when he said Tony. But calling him dad! God, he could kill this kid one day.

"Debbie takes care of him instead of me. They eat and study together all the time. Maybe I should adopt that girl too? The two of them play together? And I can get out of your grip?"

Pepper spat out her coffee. “Are you out of your mind? Are you telling me you just left them alone without supervision?” She slapped his shoulder and lowered her voice in horror. “Peter asked me about the birth control pill the other day! How do you get it, is it possible to get it without going to the doctor?”

Tony shrugged. “He’s a robotics intern at Stark Industries. I refuse to believe my adopted child is that stupid. He must know how to deal with birth control."

“Tony! Talk to him!”

Tony squealed. “No way! I can’t give sex education to a sixteen-year-old! I don’t even have a full education about sex! It is a complicated activity even for me!”

The woman took a deep breath. “You’re thirty-eight! How… Oh my God! Talk to him or I won’t lift a finger if Debbie’s family comes to you crying with a pregnancy test result.”

“What am I supposed to say?” Tony protested. “Debbie’s not his first girlfriend, he’s learned something by now…” he thought. Debbie was definitely Peter’s first girlfriend. “Worst case scenario, I’ll be a grandfather at thirty-eight?”

“Peter would be a father at sixteen! Are you crazy? I can’t believe we’re even discussing this! I said you’re going to talk!”

The man rolled his eyes. “Oh my God! Okay!”

Pepper looked at her watch. “Peter said to wake him up at seven.” She got up from the table.

Tony stopped her. “Wait, you’ve given me enough guilt to go upstairs and check on my idiot son.”

Pepper joined Tony as he left the kitchen and headed up the stairs to Peter’s room. The woman shrugged at the man who sneered at her. “I want to make sure you’re being nice enough to Peter!”

“Okay, Mama Bear.”

When they arrived in front of Peter's room, Tony quickly opened the door to torment Peter who never woke up in the mornings and while he was hoping to burst into the room, he screamed and closed his eyes when he saw Debbie in her underwear, having sex with Peter. Her one hand was over Peter's mouth and her head was thrown back with pleasure. Peter was holding the girl by her waist. Debbie, in a panic, slid off of Peter and onto the bed, next to him, while Pepper stared at the teens with her jaw agape. Peter was already stuttering, "Mr. S…tark…Sir…I can explain."

 *   *   *

"Lip! Ian! Debbie! Liam! BREAKFAST!"

Valentina denied the burning smell of the last pancake in the pan and turned it off after she plated it.

Lip cursed as he stumbled down the stairs. "Fuck Tina! It's Sunday! What's wrong with you?"

"The first day of school tomorrow. I thought you'd at least make an effort in the last twenty-four hours to change your sleep schedule."

"You thought wrong." Lip, who had eagerly and unknowingly scooped the burnt top pancake into his mouth, grimaced as he tasted it. He opened his mouth to spit the wet bits back onto the other pancakes, when Tina arrived in time and pressed the hot spatula to his lips. Lip desperately backed away from the plate and pushed his sister away. "Fucking psycho!"

Tina shrugged. "I told you not to eat like a pig! You're licking Karen Jackson with that mouth. I'm pretty sure you have an STD. I can't let you get us sick! The girl has like a hundred husbands!"

"Karen is a sex addict!" Lip protested before taking frozen peas from the fridge and placing them on his lips. "Unlike you, she's accepted it and is getting treatment! You keep bringing random guys home every day!" Before Tina could attack him again, he left through the back kitchen door.

Ian came down the stairs with Liam in his arms, sat the boy down at the table, and went to the coffee machine to make coffee. "Did he go to Karen again?"

Valentina huffed. "I don't know what he sees in that skunk! Didn't he go to the doctor because he caught gonorrhea just last week?" The girl breathed as she ran a hand through her hair. She went to sit next to Liam. "Good morning, baby."

Liam smiled admiringly at his sister "Debbie went to that rich boy's house again. He told me he would bring me candy if I didn't tell you, but I won't hide anything from you Tina."

Tina wrapped her arms around the boy and kissed his hair "My smart boy." She turned to Ian "This is the performance I expect from all of you for Debbie! If Debbie gets pregnant or goes and marries one of those drug lords, I will burn you all down, except for Liam. He always brings me good intelligence, yeah, baby. Yeah." She left a few more kisses on her brother's hair in quick succession. Liam was giggling in happiness. When the doorbell rang, Ian said "I'll get it." and went to open the door. Debbie, who had her head bowed, was accompanied by a middle-aged man in a suit and sunglasses and the girl's boyfriend, whom Lip and Ian called "the sissy boy".

"Debbie?"

When the girl shouldered him through the door, Ian wanted to close the door but Tony stopped him "Can I talk to one of Debbie's parents?"

"I'm her brother, what happened?"

"A legal guardian?"

"I said I'm his brother!"

"Someone over eighteen?"

Ian got angry and shouted inside "Valentina!" He left the door open and went into the house.

"You wait in the car, Peter," Tony said but when Peter stayed where he was, he didn't insist. Valentina came out the door right after Ian, with her messy hair and a worn-out old

t-shirt and cropped shorts. "Peter! How's my favorite extra family member, huh?" The girl hugged Peter as Tony pulled them apart with a fake cough. "Honey, if I were you, I'd wait a little while before hugging this rapist."

Peter growled. "Oh my god! Don't call me that!"

Valentina stopped hugging the boy and looked at the man who still hadn't bothered to take off his sunglasses. "Excuse me, honey?" she said in a voice that mimicked the man's. "Do we know each other?"

"Tina, this is my adoptive father. Tony Stark," Peter said. "And this is Valentina. Debbie's sister. She's awesome."

Tony grinned, holding back a sly comment about how cute and kissable the girl looked. “I bet you anything she’s amazing.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

The girl crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring Tony's flirtation, but she had to admit that he was impressive. "We don't shake hands around here, Mr. Stark. What do we owe this visit to?"

He doesn't know who I am, Tony thought. Peter was a little annoyed that the imbecile hadn't announced to the world that his father was Iron Man.

"We did something," Peter said sheepishly. "My father thinks I should apologize."

Valentina's heart skipped a beat. God! She was surprised that Debbie had even stood that long without climbing on top of him. She pitied Peter, who was crushed and cowering in front of her.

"Debbie slammed the door in my face. If you can go up and check on her for me, I'll forgive you for whatever you did, Peter," she said. "Let the grown-ups talk about this. Okay?"

The boy looked at Valentina with grateful eyes and ran inside, holding himself back from yelling at his father, "See, she is cool! She is not like you."

Valentina took a step back and waved her hand inside. “Here you go, Mr. Stark. Have some burnt pancakes and cheap, crappy coffee while you explain what the hell our kids were doing.”

Tony took off his sunglasses as he entered the house and grinned to himself. He liked Valentina. She was also trying to figure out why she found Tony so attractive.

[buckleyagcd]

Season 5 Ian will always have a special albeit painful hold on my heart ❤ 💔

[mmikhailo]

you know what i’m just gonna stop being negative about the season when i find out one thing i don’t like, i’m tired

[thegettingbyp2]

Tutor

Lip Gallagher x reader

Request: Lip and goody two shoes reader. Lip teases about it and kisses them.

Requested by: @gpiggy98

‘Why the fuck do I have to get a tutor? I had the highest fucking IQ in school!’

‘That might be true Mr Gallagher, but you’re not at school anymore. And now you have one of the lowest grades in your class so (Y/N) is going to be tutoring you for now and we’ll see if your grades improve by the next test.’

---

You were sitting on your own in an empty classroom, waiting for Lip to turn up. You had been asked to tutor the Gallagher boy for the next couple of weeks and try to help him get his grades back up and to say you were nervous was a severe understatement. Whilst you had never actually met Lip, you had heard about his reputation at school, how one time he threw a chair threw a window.

‘I take it you’re (Y/N),’ a voice questioned. You looked up and was met with a pair of beautiful green eyes.

‘Lip?’

‘Yeah, that’s me.’

‘Hi, I’m (Y/N),’ you said, silently cursing yourself when he clearly knew your name.

‘Right,’ he said, throwing himself in the seat next to you, ‘let’s get this over with.’

You spent the next couple of minutes reading through his last essay. The points he made were actually really good and he clearly knew that he was talking about. ‘Lip you know exactly what you’re talking about and the content is great, it’s just the way you’ve structured the essay that lost you all these marks.’

‘So I just need to write it better?’

‘Exactly! We’ll just go through that until your exam and then you’ll be fine.’

---

You were once again sitting in the same lecture hall waiting for Lip to show up. You had been tutoring him every day for the past three weeks, helping him refine and correct his academic writing style and this morning, he had his exam. You were going crazy waiting to find out how he did so when the door shut behind him and you heard his feet on the stairs, you jumped out of your skin.

‘You are amazing!’ Lip exclaimed as he picked you up and hugged you. You’re eyes closed at the feeling of his arms wrapped around you; over the past few weeks, you had gradually developed a bit of a crush on him.

‘How did you do?’

‘A B+!’

‘Lip that’s great! I told you you could do it!’

‘Who would have thought it only took the most well-behaved girl in school to do it.’

‘Wait what?’ you asked, his comment throwing you off. ‘I’m not the most well-behaved.’

‘Oh come on, you’re never at any of the parties, you always have your head in a book and you never really speak to anyone.’

You opened your mouth to reply but quickly stopped when you realised that all of the points that he made were correct. Lip’s mouth had quirked up into a small smirk when he saw that I had no room to argue and he walked towards me, throwing himself in the seat next to me and leaning over.

‘And I bet you’ve never kissed anyone.’

You inhaled a bit too much air at his comment and coughed, dropping your pen when your body jolted. Cursing under your breath, you leant down to pick it up, gasping again when you felt Lip’s hand brush against your own slightly. When you sat back up, you realised that your glasses had slipped down slightly when you leant down and your hand reached up to push them back into their proper position. As your hand lifted, Lip’s hand came out to lightly grab your wrist, halting your movements.

‘You ready?’ he asked, confusing you.

‘Ready for w,’

Your words were cut off by Lip’s lips crashing against yours. His lips were soft as they guided your own lips in the kiss and when his tongue crept into your mouth, you found that he tasted of beer, cigarettes and gum. You started to lean over to him, hands tangled in his air, keeping his lips pressed against your own as you tongues continued to taste each other and his hands came down to your waist, tugging you towards him until you pressed up against the arm in between your two chairs. This made you break apart, laughing lightly.

‘So I guess you’re not the most well-behaved if you kiss like that.’

[warnersister]

Morning, Mrs Gallagher

Carl Gallagher x Reader

Not my best work, but I’m gonna do a yandere! Carl, real soon!... 👀

My Masterlist

My Shameless Masterlist

My Carl Gallagher Masterlist

I groaned, stretching as I sat up. I looked around the room, to see it wasn’t mine, (nor Carl’s, who was strewn across the bedding). I pushed him, gently. “Carl.” I said. I pushed him a bit harder. “Carl!” I rolled my eyes, and started shaking him back, and forth - until I heard him groan. “CARL!” “Good morning to you too.” He answered, sitting up next to me.

My head started pounding, and as for the looks of it - so did Carl’s. “Where the fuck are we?” I asked, as he got up to try, and find some Aspirin. He opened the curtains, and we both hissed, at the sudden increase in light. “I think I have an idea.” He pointed at the sign across the road, from, (what I guessed was), the motel.

‘Welcome to Las Vegas!’

The sign read, and we each looked at each other - taking the pills he had found in my bag. “The fuck did we do last night?” I asked, standing up, and doing a full; three-sixty, of the room.

Carl picked up a slip of paper, which was by the TV. “Well, fuck.” He swore, and threw me the paper. “Morning, Mrs Gallagher.” “Shit.” I cursed. It was a marriage certificate, as well as my last name - now listed as Gallagher.

“Did we fucking get married?” Carl asked, running his hands through his hair.

*Flashback*

*Third Person*

(Y/n), and Carl were just fucking around. Drunk off of their minds. Taking beer, after beer. They were laid underneath the train tracks, watching as train, after train, passed by. “(Y/n)?” Carl looked at her. “Yeah?” She looked back at him. But he didn’t say anything, he just leaned in, and captured his lips, with her own.

He rolled them both, so that she was underneath him, and he was straddling her lap. He pulled back, and admired his girlfriend - as a drunken hiccup escaped from her lips. “Marry me.” He said. “What, did you just say?” It sobered her slightly. He pulled her up, so that they were face-to-face. “Marry me.” He said again, looking into her eyes. She stared at him blankly. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” They both burst out laughing, in a fit of non-sober giggles. “Yes.” He looked at her for a moment, before picking her up bridal style, and spinning her around in his arms.

“Who will take us?” She asked, and they looked at each other. “Steve.”

**

“Steve, will you take us to Vegas?” Carl asked, drunk off of his head. The man laughed. “Yeah sure, where am I taking ya?” “A courthouse.” Carl looked at (Y/n), who was also hammered, and stroked her cheek - grinning as she giggled. “Getting hitched?” Steve took a swig of his beer, before getting his jacket on.

“Come on lovebirds, in the car.” He found this hilarious, as he pushed them into the backseat.

He heard a continuous giggling, and the noise of a zipper was the final straw. “HEY NO SEX IN MY FUCKING CAR!” He yelled, and the teens straightened up. “It’s not like it’s actually yours.” (Y/n) said, causing both of them to laugh.

**

As they pulled up to the city that wall full of life, despite it being two in the morning. “Here.” He passed them two believable fake ID’s, that said that they were eighteen, and unlocked the doors. “You crazy kids have fun.” He said, after handing them two-hundred dollars.

“DON’T GET HER PREGNANT!” And with that, they entered the small church - on the outskirts of the casino-village.

*End Of Flashback*

*First Person*

“When in Vegas.” He grabbed a beer out of the mini-fridge. “That’s Rome dipshit. Put that back, it’s gonna cost an arm, and a leg.” “Okay, god wives do nag.” I threw the pillow at him. “Fuck you.” “Cool. Now?” I rolled my eyes.

“Are you being fucking serious.” I walked up to him, and put the paper of the table, pushing his chest. He grabbed my wrists, and pinned me against the walk, my legs wrapping around his torso.

“You complaining?” He asked, between lettering kisses, onto my lips. “You seem calm about this.” I told him, squinting my eyes. “Please, it takes more than that to get me stupidly drunk.” He rolled his eyes.

“So you-” “I was gonna make you my wife, one way, or another. You just happened to be fucked, while it happened.” He shrugged. “I hate you.” “That’s no way to talk to your husband, Mrs Gallagher.” I huffed at him, but before I could yell - the phone went, and it seemed as though Fiona was gonna do that for me.

“YOU’RE FUCKING SIXTEEN! GET YOUR ASSES BACK IN CHICAGO!-”

He hung up.

“Oops.”

*Requests Open*

[look-i-love-u]

"Good morning, Mr Gallagher. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's, Mr Milkovich. C'mere."

My submission for @gallacrafts Theme 7: "C'mere"

Their "Valentine's breakfast in bed - tray". Featuring my first (and last) peanutbutter and chocolate spread on toast- artwork.

[arrowflier]

hey i love your writing…I was wondering if we could get some sleepy!ian action?? idk i just imagine him being all cute and clingy and FAR too honest when he’s tired :)

“How the fuck…” Mickey muttered as he came into the living room, starting down at Ian’s prone form on the Gallagher sofa. He had only been gone for five minutes—okay, fifteen, Lip had offered him a smoke after they loaded the car—and Ian had somehow managed to fall asleep.

Another day, it might have made him worry. But they had been up late the night before helping their new neighbors move in, and up early that morning for work, and maybe it wasn’t that surprising that a man who grew up in chaos and spent a year in jail was taking his rest where he could find it.

And honestly, Mickey hated to wake him. He looked relaxed, and peaceful, the lines of his face smoothed out in sleep. His pink lips were turned up at the corners, a sign of good dreams, and he hugged a pillow to his chest just tight enough to keep it from falling to the floor.

But it was time to leave. Lip and Tami were heading out, Debbie had already put Franny to bed—they should be on their way to their own soft mattress, where Ian could hold Mickey instead of a pile of cotton and acrylic, and snuffle into his hair instead of wiping his face against the back cushion of the sofa.

Mickey sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, he was getting soft.

“Hey, Gallagher,” he said quietly, tapping a knuckle on the bottom of Ian’s foot where it hung over the arm of the sofa.

Ian mumbled something, but didn’t wake, just pulled his leg up and rolled onto his side.

“Ian, come on,” Mickey said a little louder, coming around the sofa to stand near his husband’s head. He whacked his knee on the table, and hissed, bending over to rub at it.

When he stood straight again, he was sure he saw a sliver of green watching him before Ian snapped his eyes shut again.

“Oh, for the love of—”

Mickey stepped closer, nudged Ian’s shoulder, just a touch rough.

“Come on, sleeping beauty,” he said, “it’s time to wake the fuck up and go home.”

Ian just hummed, and held his pillow tighter, so Mickey ripped it from his grip.

He expected grumbles. An outcry. A pouty-faced Ian staring up at him with wide eyes.

He did not expect two long arms to snake out around his own waist, and tug him closer so firmly he almost lost his balance.

“What the—”

“Mmm,” Ian responded, eyes still closed. “Soft.”

Mickey sputtered.

“I am not fucking…” he trailed off as Ian squeezed, the other man’s face nearly pressed into his stomach. The hand not holding that stupid pillow fell to Ian’s head, buried itself in short red hair.

“You’re soft,” Mickey grumbled without heat, scratching lightly at Ian’s scalp. “I’m not a goddamn teddy bear, Ian.”

“You’re better,” Ian mumbled, lips upturned. It made the wrinkled at the sides of his eyes appear, even with the lids closed; the wrinkles that always showed when he laughed, or grinned, like his happiness was so much that it distorted his own body.

“Sure,” Mickey agreed. “But you still gotta get up.”

Then Ian gripped tighter, and rolled, and instead of him getting up, Mickey was falling down. Down on top of Ian’s firm chest, twisting as he fell, ending up squished between his husband’s body and the back of the sofa.

“Fucking octopus,” he muttered, trying to wriggle enough to get Ian’s watch out from where it was digging into his back. All he managed to do was dig himself deeper into the cushions, but whatever, it kind of worked.

“You didn’t win,” he made sure to tell his husband, who had opened his eyes just enough to make sure Mickey was comfortable. “Just don’t feel like fightin’ your giant ass right now.”

“You like my ass,” Ian said, voice thick with sleep, and nuzzled into the space under Mickey’s jaw. “Told me so last week, when you—”

“Yeah, alright, Mr. I bottom now,” Mickey retorted. But the last word stretched out on a yawn, Ian’s warmth and the softness of the sofa lulling him into restfulness.

“S’ok,” Ian whispered into his neck, brushing the skin with a barely-there kiss. “Still like your ass more.”

“Fucking better,” Mickey mumbled. Ian’s eyes were closed again, and this close, he could count the freckles on the thin skin.

One, two…

Ian sighed, and snuggled closer.

Three, four…

Mickey blinked. Pried his eyes back open.

Five, six…

He blinked again. This time, his eyes stayed closed.

Hours later, they would wake to a warm weight crawling over them, Franny having snuck down from bed to join her favorite uncles. They would let her settle with them, and resign themselves to spending the whole night. It wasn’t too much of a hardship; the house was quiet at night, and warm, and familiar. And if they woke again with a blanket over them and Debbie watching quietly from the chair, well.

It was okay to be soft around family.

[187days]

Day Fifty-Four

I had no prep or grading to do this morning, so I decided to go observe Mr. V, which was an excellent use of my prep time. I kept up with my responsibilities as his mentor and department head, I gave feedback that he thanked me for later- so hopefully that means it was constructive!- and I genuinely enjoyed his lesson because it was about the Constitution, and we know that's my jam.

Also my jam: teaching about natsec policy, which is what I did in APGOV. My lesson was all about the various policymakers, the interactions between them, theories of foreign policy, trade policy. Because I wanted to get in more argument FRQ practice, I pulled one from AP Classroom about whether the expansion of presidential powers facilitates or hinders effective foreign policymaking, and had them take a crack at answering it. I wasn't sure how that would go, but they crushed it, so I was thrilled.

After that, we went on to studying some of the policymaking that's actually occurring right now because that's always the most interesting part of this kind of lesson. Students always get curious about trade wars, so we read up on the one between the US and China. Then we took a look at the US government's response to Russia's invasion of Ukraine, so we discussed sanctions, foreign aid, presidential drawdown authority, all kinds of stuff. It's also in preparation for tomorrow's guest lecturer, author and army veteran Matt Gallagher, who's been in Ukraine several times now since the war began.

In Global Studies, my students and I discussed the assignment they did yesterday about the eightfold path in Buddhism. Then I showed a set of slides with some fill-in notes about how Buddhism is practiced in different parts of the world, and how those practices are linked to the eightfold path. It's a lesson I've always had a lot of success with, and, for the most part, I did today, too- great questions and comments in all four sections- but I also had to send two students to the office because they would not stop disrupting the learning. Nothing I tried doing worked, so I know sending them out was the right call, but it's still frustrating. Like, I wanted to be able to get them back on task, and I just couldn't.

It is good that the lesson was able to continue without disruption after that because I got to a slide about Zen Buddhism and martial arts, and started talking about my own martial arts training, which prompted one of the boys to ask me if I'd break someone's arm if they attacked me. I said no, not if I didn't have to, and he responded with disappointment. So I asked, "Why would I do that if it wasn't necessary for my self-defense?" He and a few of the others chimed in with the kind of macho stuff they get online: because it would make me tough and "alpha," or because it'd be sweet revenge on my hypothetical attacker. So I explained that if someone just attacked me out of nowhere, then they're probably pretty angry and hateful, and me breaking their arm wouldn't change that- but it would change me. It would make me a worse person, and why would I give someone else that much power over my life?

That made a lot of them go quiet.

It's a different perspective than they're used to hearing. And they might not totally grasp it, but here's hoping it at least gave them something to think about. I have a para in that class, and she told me afterwards that she thought it was great that I didn't dismiss the comments and challenged them instead. So... definitely did not expect the discussion to get that deep, but also am glad that it did.

[sluttymickey]

Okay so the touch post from you got me thinking about…

KISS starved Mickey. Thinking about him looking at Ian’s lips and mouth and just ITCHING to put his mouth on Ian’s and now he CAN AND DOES WHENEVER HE WANTS.

KISS STARVED MICKEY *bursts into tears*

I'm thinking about s2 Mickey hanging out all summer with Ian. Becoming best friends with Ian, falling IN LOVE with Ian.

Thinking about kissing him. So much.

When he's shotgunning beer with Ian (If he can't kiss him, he can still have the momentary thrill of putting his lips where Ian's had just been and the little tingle he gets when their fingers brush together while they hand over the can to each other).

When he sees Ian's face with all it's stupid fucking freckles looking so goddam beautiful in sun.

When Ian smirks at him while making some stupid as fuck joke and god. He's so fucking dorky, Mickey just wants to grab his face and kiss the fuck outta him.

When Ian's face lights up when he sees Mickey. He can't wrap his head around the fact that someone could be this happy to see him. Wants to kiss that smile. Wonders if he would feel it against his lips. Wants to drag his hands through the red hair and feel the curls against his fingers. Wrap an arm around his waist and pull him close, so fucking close.

But he can't. He can't. So all he can do is stare at Ian and try and not get caught. Think about how it would feel to kiss him. Think about him when he's alone in bed at night. Wish so desperately that things could be different. That he could somehow be with Ian forever.

And now. Now he shares lazy morning kisses in bed with Ian. Leans his head up and for his “Good Morning, Mr. Gallagher” morning kiss. Leans over and gives Ian surprise kisses just because he can. Rolls his eyes but walks towards Ian to kiss his stupid adorable “😙” face when he receives the “Sitting here. Unkissed. When will this end. 😔” meme from Ian. Kisses him and feels him smile against his lips. Feels his curls against his fingers. Wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, so fucking close.

And he can't believe he gets to have that for ever now 🥺

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Mr. Gallagher and Me

Jim (The Delinquent Season) x Reader

A/n- reposting because this didn't show up in the tags yesterday

Playlist Chapter 2 Masterlists

Chapter 3

An unexpected meeting with Jim’s kids makes Y/n question their relationship. Warnings- mentions of SMUT

Early April Though early morning warmth bathed her face and while golden hued rays were filtering in through the curtains in sporadic bursts, it wasn’t the light that stirred her. It was the body behind her, keeping her close with an arm draped over her waist and holding her in place as the little spoon, shifting restlessly that roused Y/n that morning. When her eyes opened to thin slits, she clumsily reached for her phone on the nightstand, feeling it vibrate as she touched it, letting her know that she had messages and that it probably needed charging. Trying to not move around too much, Y/n gently pressed into the power button, just so she could illuminate the screen so she could catch a glimpse of the time. 7:45am. Thankfully it was Thursday, which meant that neither of them had to be on campus until ten.

“What are you doing?” Jim’s sleepy voice was cast into her hair and his lazy grip on her waist tightened, “I know it’s not eight thirty yet.”

“Its not,” she giggled softly, shifting in his embrace so she could turn to face him, “It’s actually seven forty five,” she whispered, eager to not disturb their quiet moment.

“Good,” Jim caught her lips in a languid, ardent kiss. Reaching between them, she brought her hand up to his face, brushing his hair away from his brow before caressing the side of his face, her thumb, grazing the apple of his cheek, “Then we have time,” he kissed her again.

“To go back to sleep?” Y/n teased, her lips still pressed to his as she hooked her leg over his hip.

Jim chuckled softly, easily rolling them over so he was on top, his weight supported by an elbow pressed into the mattress, “For something else,” he corrected, skimming her curves as his lips traversed lower, first peppering pecks along her jaw and then down her neck. As he journeyed lower, Y/n’s fingers found his hair and Jim lingered with his face pressed to the valley of her unclad breasts, “You smell good,” he hummed and Y/n dragged her bare heel along the back of his leg. When he took one of her pebbled nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it titillatingly, Y/n gasped sharply and arched into him, “I’m sure you taste good too,” he continued upon lifting his head to meet her eyes.

“Jim,” she rasped suddenly when his touch deserted the dip of her waist, sliding past her thigh and teasing her center. “Uh-ugh!” Y/n reluctantly propped herself on her elbows as her phone rang loudly, and Jim removed his fingers, raising to loom over her, his arms boxing her in.

“Don’t answer it,” he encouraged as she reached for her phone, once more peppering feather light ministrations along the side of her neck. Her toes curled as Jim tugged one one of her thighs, encouraging her to spread her legs a little wider, “They’ll call back.”

“I…oh!” She gasped when she felt his member brush her folds. Lifting the phone over their heads, she saw the alert to plug it in and then the caller ID. “Jim…babe…it’s my mom. I have to take this.”

“Call her back later,” he protested, relenting to laying on top of her, pulling her into a hug and then rolling them over until they were tangled up in the messy, plain white sheets. Cozied in the center of his bed with her arms practically pinned to her sides by his crushing bear hug, Y/n struggled to swipe answer as a fit of delighted giggles overtook her.

“Mr. Gallagher!” Y/n admonished, “I cannot do that, what if it’s important?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, pretending to be annoyed as he relented. “You should plug it in,” he noted as he let her go and Y/n shuffled out of the bed.

“I don’t have my charger,” she quickly swiped the green icon so the call wouldn’t go to voicemail, asking her mother to hold on as she nabbed Jim’s sweater from the previous night, when they’d gone to dinner and then a movie, off the floor, pulling it over her head.

“Just use mine,” he offered, sitting up against the headboard, letting the covers gather at his hips, “It’s in the kitchen, on the counter,” she was just tugging on the hem of his sweater, adjusting it as it fell just above the center of her thighs. “You look cute in that,” he beamed

“Thank you,” she grinned proudly, retrieving her phone to resume the call, “I might just keep it.”

He chortled softly as she vacated the room, putting the phone to her ear and greeting her mother. “Looks better on you than me,” he added as Y/n stepped into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

“Who was that?” Was the first question out of her mother’s mouth. Y/n hadn’t dared to let a word slip about Jim, knowing that if she did, she’d be setting herself up for a lengthy lecture on ethics and how dangerous it was to get mixed with someone who held so much authority over her; both academically and professionally.

“Uh…just a friend,” Y/n dismissed causally, padding barefoot through the hallways towards the open space that housed Jim’s kitchen, large living room and dining room. It was probably her favorite space in his apartment; the light came through wide, full length windows, allowing the furniture to cast the most beautiful, long shadows on the blonde, hardwood floor.

Her mother hummed, not believing a word of her hastily forged fib, “A male friend who lets you wear his clothes?”

Rolling her eyes as she finally reached the kitchen, heading straight for the counter mounted against the tiled wall and plugging in Jim’s charger before fitting the smaller end into her phone. “Its nice to hear from you too mom,” Y/n quipped, trying to change the topic.

“How would you know?” Her mother countered lightly, “You never call. It’s like you moved and we stopped existing. “

“Ma,” Y/n bemoaned, “Its nothing like that,” she leaned her hip against the counter, fingers of her free hand absently drumming the granite surface. Her eyes roved the contents of Jim’s apartment. She’d been there before, so many times, but Y/n always thought that every time she visited, she discovered something that made the place a little more ‘his’. That morning it was the neatly packed in the low bookcase, the top acted as a cupboard with a sliding door, where television was kept, while in the bottom, all sorts of books were housed where cleared spaces were allotted for framed photos of his children and little momentos he’d collected through his life.

“I’ve just been busy,” she reassured, trying to sum up excuses that didn’t involve telling her mother about her budding relationship with Jim. “You know I’ve been…..working on my thesis, then there’s work and you know how time zones are.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t have anything to do with your friend?” Her mother inquired curiously, emphasizing the final word knowingly.

“No, it doesn’t- mom,” Y/n admonished hastily, “It doesn’t have anything to-” When Y/n heard the jingle of keys and the slight jostling of the doorknob, tell-tale signs of the front door being unlocked, she paused, trying to think of who could possibly be coming to visit Jim that early on a Thursday morning. It had to be someone close to him, they had a key that they were obviously comfortable using.

Before she could really come up with anything though, she heard voices, male and female, just past the door and seconds later, they came in. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for her mother to hear and ask what was going on. It was the teenagers from photographs on the bookcase, Y/n had seen the pictures often enough to come up with the conclusion after just a glimpse of them upon their entry; Alannah and Ben, Jim’s kids- who she’d never met.

“Who are you?” That was the first question of his son’s mouth upon spotting Y/n in the kitchen, while his sister was more inclined to inquire about the whereabouts of her father.

Needless to say, that was not how she wanted to meet them. In fact, Y/n hadn’t given much thought to meeting his kids at all, of course she and Jim had been sneaking around for two months, and she was enormously fond of him, but they were taking it slow and she wasn’t even sure if she’d ever get that far. She didn’t even think they’d like her! Their father’s student, less than ten years their senior and about twenty years their father’s junior, she certainly wasn’t the most ideal girlfriend. Jim had never even called her his girlfriend, which was definitely understandable considering they had to be very careful.

“I’ve gotta go mom,” she hastily attempted to end their conversation.

“What’re you-”

“Talk later, love you, bye,” Y/n cut her off, abruptly hanging up and setting the phone down. “Hi,” she smiled awkwardly at the pair, who were cautiously inching further inside the apartment, “Uh-”

“Are you his girlfriend? Our dad, I mean,” Ben spoke up bravely.

“Well she’s wearing his favorite sweater,” Alannah huffed, giving Y/n an icy once over, “So she must be.”

“I’m…..gonna get your father,” the word hurriedly tumbled out of her mouth and suddenly feeling scandalously exposed, Y/n tugged on the hem of Jim’s sweater as she quickly walked down the hall to his bedroom, shutting the door behind herself in a haste as she stumbled in.

Jim was just sauntering out of the adjoining master bathroom, lounge pants slung low on his hips and the smell of mint from his toothpaste emanating from the room. “Oh,” he grinned, “You’re done. How’s your mom?”

“Annoyed with me, probably,” Y/n rambled as he approached her, hands reaching for her hips.

“You look so sexy in my-”

“Your kids are out there,” she said just as he touched her, and Jim’s eyes went wide. Swallowing thickly, Y/n took a step back, “I didn’t know what to do so I…..ran away.”

Jim quirked a brow, wide eyed expression completely unreadable, as he asked, “Ran away?”

Y/n shrugged, anxiously playing with the sleeves of his deep, green sweater, the same one he’d been wearing the day they met at the university. Back then, she couldn’t have even fathomed that they’d be going out one semester later. “Well, I told them I was coming to get you. God,” she covered her face with her hands, “This is so awkward, you probably didn’t even want them to meet me, I’m so sorry.” It must have been too soon, right? Y/n had never dated anyone with kids, she didn’t know the rules, when did you meet them? Would it be like in the movies, when the dad brought some new, younger woman into his kids life? Would they hate her?

Would she be their Meredith Blake?

She didn’t think she was anything like the blonde villainess, but who knew what his kids were thinking? Y/n certainly hadn’t made the best first impression.

Discarding her worry, Jim reached out to encourage Y/n’s hands away from her face, “It’s okay,” he gently reassured, “You don’t have to apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he sighed, frowning, “Why wouldn’t I want you to meet them?”

Y/n shrugged, folding one arm across herself and pressing the fingers of the other to her bare lips, “I’m not sure if you see me like that,” she sighed defeatedly, “You know…..I’m younger, not as mature. I don’t know if you want this to be long term or if you’re just…shopping around or whatever.”

“Are you…shopping around?” The words sounded clumsy on his tongue and Jim maintained his hold on her smaller hands as he searched her eyes.

“Of course not,” Y/n said quickly, “But I’m twenty years younger than you and I can’t blame you if you want someone….more grown up around them. And I don’t want them to think that I’m some twenty something trying to take advantage of you. I know how this looks.”

“Do you think I should be with someone else?” He tried meeting her eyes when Y/n bent her head slightly, his hands offering her fingers a reassuringly gentle embrace.

“I want you to be with me,” she hated that they’d been forced into such a serious conversation without much warning and Y/n hated even more that they hadn’t had it before.

“Good, cause I want to be with you,” Y/n offered him a glimmer of a smile, her the erratic rhythm of her heart slowing a little, “Why don’t I go talk to them while you freshen up and then you can come out and meet them, properly,” his lopsided smile was enough to settle her nerves a little and even if they weren’t gone completely, she did feel like less like a fish out of water.

“Okay,” Y/n nodded astutely, and just before they broke, Jim pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the top of her forehead. Gnawing on her lower lip, she observed as Jim quickly pulled on a plain white t-shirt to go with his flannel lounge pants, not doing much to remedy his sleep mused waves before leaving the room with a soft smile and a subtle wave. “Alright,” Y/n muttered to herself, heading to the bathroom, pausing briefly to get her toothbrush out of her overnight bag before going in.

As quickly as she could, Y/n freshened up, brushing her teeth and rinsing off her face before returning to her bag again, that time rummaging around until she found a pair of sleep shorts that would have otherwise remained unused. Pulling on the tiny, pale pink shorts, Y/n moved on to running a brush from Jim’s dresser through her hair, using a hair tie she’d left over on her last visit to pull it into a loose ponytail.

Satisfied with her appearance, Y/n inhaled deeply, attempted to swallow her anxiety and left the room, hearing their conversation as she approached the living room again;

“Well how’d you meet her?”

“At work,” Jim answered, purposefully evading the fact that she was his student.

“She’s younger than mom, and Orla. Are you gonna be like Kinsely’s dad, from school?”

“What does Kinsely have to do with-”

“Kinsely’s dad married his secretary and now they’re always going on vacation, she says she never sees him. But he bought her a car and doubled her allowance.”

Jim scoffed, “No, I’m not gonna be like Kinsely’s dad.” Just then, Y/n emerged from the hallway, wringing her fingers and at the sight of her, much more appropriately dressed albeit still visibly nervous, Jim smiled warmly. “Alannah, Ben,” he offered his arm, inviting Y/n to step into his embrace, something she readily accepted, “This is my girlfriend, Y/n.”

“Hi, again,” Y/n breathed, hesitating for a moment before extending her hand. Both seemed skeptical, though, after a beat, Ben took it, giving her a friendly shake. “Its nice to meet you. Your dad has told me a lot about you,” it wasn’t a lie, Jim did speak pridefully about his children and Y/n adored that he was so proud of them.

“He hasn’t said anything about you,” Alannah interjected, not maliciously, but with the evident edge of suspicion. Y/n couldn’t blame her for being a little stand-offish though, it couldn’t have been easy to meet the new woman in your father’s life.

“Uh…well,” Y/n stuttered, determined to carry her weight through the conversation; if she was going to date a man with children, then she ought to learn how to interact with him. They were an integral part of his life, he adored them, she should at least learn how to get along with them. “You know….we haven’t really told anyone that we’re dating. We’re just trying to be careful.”

“Careful about?” Alannah pressed as Ben lapsed into silence. She was seventeen and Y/n could see defiance that was often evident in teens coursing through her veins, she was determined to have some clarity on her and Jim’s relationship.

“Alannah,” Jim started to admonish.

“No, it’s okay,” Y/n reassured him, her hand falling to the center of Jim’s back, “We just don’t want to make things official if we’re not sure about it. The university has a lot of rules about these things, and your dad just didn’t want to make any rash decisions. But we really like each other,” Y/n glanced at Jim and he rubbed her side affectionately, “And I hope….” Y/n actually didn’t know where she was going with that and in lieu of a concrete thought, she let logic guide her words, “That we can get along.”

“So you’re not sure about each other…..but you want us to get along?” She eyed them suspiciously.

“We are sure about each other and I want you two to get along,” Jim cut through the building tension, “But you two have to get to school. You got your text book, right?” He glanced at Ben, who nodded, “Great, we can have dinner this weekend, you guys can get to know each other.”

Alannah hardly seemed thrilled by the idea, but Y/n thought her reaction was a lot more cordial than expected, “Okay,” she observed them carefully, “Alright well, sounds great.”

“Do you need a ride?” Jim pulled away from Y/n, who opted to hang back awkwardly as he gave time goodbye kisses on their foreheads. When they declined, explaining that they’d been planning to take the bus anyway, he reluctantly let them go and Y/n waved politely as they neared the door.

Alannah hesitated before returning the gesture, but Ben seemed more eager to reciprocate, “It was nice to meet you, Y/n.”

His words made her a bit more hopeful and Y/n’s smile grew a little brighter, “It was night to meet you too, Ben.” The boy smiled, following his sister out of the apartment, shutting the door behind them. Blowing an exasperated breath and slumping her shoulders, Y/n shuffled back until she was leaning on the counter that acted as the only separation between the kitchen and the spacious living room. “Was that bad?” She cringed, hoping that one introduction hadn’t blown their relationship to pieces.

Jim sighed, a bright grin splitting his cheeks, “Not in the slightest. It actually went pretty well, better than when they met Orla, they hated her from the very beginning. She tried to connect with them,” he shrugged, “But it never really worked out. That was good though, much better.”

“Really?” Y/n gripped the edge of the counter, “Cause I think your daughter hates me.”

Jim titled his head, approaching Y/n and not speaking until his hands were on her hips, “She’s seventeen, she hates everyone,” he teased, leaning forward to press his lips to her in an ardent endearment which she readily returned, “You good?” He probed, lips still on hers.

“I’m good,” Y/n melted against him, looping her arms around his neck, “I just don’t wanna be their Meredith Blake,” she groaned. Pulling away, Y/n buried her face in his shoulder, reveling in the scent of his fading cologne mixing with his preferred detergent.

“Meredith who?” Jim reared back, trying to meet her eyes.

“Meredith Blake, you know, from The Parent Trap. She was a gold digger who almost married Hallie’s dad. I don’t want them to think I’m like that,” Y/n reasoned, humming against Jim’s lips when he found her lips once more.

“They won’t,” he promised, hands sliding from her waist and sneaking under the sweater’s hem, his fingertips, warm and electric raising goosebumps on her skin, “Now,” he mumbled between kisses, “Where were we?”

As his lips traveled down her neck, Y/n felt the anxiety of their earlier introduction and the coming weekend temporarily melting away, “We were-oh!” She yelped when Jim lifted her off the floor and Y/n’s legs instinctively went around his waist.

Before long, he was depositing her unceremoniously onto the beige sofa, not wasting a moment before tugging his shirt over his head, dumping it off to the side and climbing over and boxing her in with his arms. “We’re gonna be late,” she mused, glancing at the clock mounted to the wall, warning them that it was nearing nine.

“Your boss won’t like that,” Jim joked lightly as he made short work of helping her out of his sweater and then pausing for a moment, to admire her unrestrained breasts.

“Neither will your students,” she giggled.

“They’ll understand,” he huffed, “I’ll just tell them I was caught up in a private lesson,” Jim explained nonchalantly, just as his lips descended on one of her breasts and her nails sunk into his shoulder blades, as the last threads of coherent thought temporarily vacated her being.

[gallawitchxx]

WIP SUNDAY / MY FIRST FICLET 😇

i was tagged by the scrumptious @gallavichismyjam to share something from one of my WIPS. the thing is... i haven't actually shared any of my fic writing yet.

so... here's a lazy morning ficlet i wrote that doesn't belong to anything except gallavich & me & now you?

☀️ ☀️ ☀️

The only good thing about their building’s ridiculous “whites only” curtain policy was the way the sun filtered softly through them, bathing the side of Mickey’s face in early morning light.

Glowing, Ian mused, admiring the man sleeping next to him. His husband.

In moments like these, soft and still, he still couldn’t believe that they got to have this.

A quiet apartment for just the two of them--fresh, white walls free of holes made by bullets or the dramatic whack of a sledgehammer, a garbage disposal, a working fireplace, and a small balcony for watching the neighbors while sharing a smoke.

There were some familiar things of course, like Debbie’s potato masher that Mickey had made good on his promise to steal, and the mattress that they’d lugged from the Gallagher house. It was stained, but warm—a real change of temperature for a relationship that was once confined to a walk-in fridge.

Intersections of their old and new lives, of what was and what could be for two Southside strays who’d survived, together.

It was hard for Ian to always stay in the present when looking at Mickey, all of their timelines collapsing, the many fucked up versions of them both playing in his mind like old, home movies.

As Mickey exhaled small puffs of air through his nose, burying one eye further into the pillow beneath him, Ian shuffled through bedrooms and prison bunks, buzzcuts and undercuts, oversized, winter coats and undersized, gold shorts, Mickey’s slight smirk behind glass, and his own reflection staring back at him—first freckled and fond, then pale and gaunt. Someone he no longer knew.

Spin the wheel long enough and it was sure to land on something that ached, due to circumstance or regret.

Ian made sure not to stay there for too long, lest he forget how to come back to the here and now. To Mickey’s U-UP hand resting gently on his bicep, which still ushered in more memories of penthouse parties and much needed confirmations, Together.

He knew that he didn’t have long now. Mickey would start to stir soon. A lifetime of hyper-vigilance had left him with an uncanny sense of when eyes were on him. Ian hoped that one day those reflexes would soften. Muscles atrophied by lack of use.

When the moment came, though, Mickey simply raised an eyebrow, catching his bearings before twisting his lips in a small, but contented smile. A long way from full body jerks and whatever used to catapult him into consciousness.

One bright blue eye met one glazed green.

Ian sighed, reaching over to caress the soft hairs of Mickey’s cheeks with his thumb.

Another memory. A quiet kitchen. The smell of burnt toast. Morning Mr. Milkovich. Morning Mr. Gallagher.

“Hey, where are ya?” Mickey whispered, his voice crusty with sleep and smoke.

Ian blinked himself back. He scooted closer to Mickey, his lips brushing gently against the other man’s forehead.

“Here. Everywhere. But always with you.”

“Fuckin’ sap,” Mickey murmured, tucking into Ian’s neck. “If these curtains didn’t make you look so damn good in the mornin’, you can bet your sweet ass we’d be back on the Southside already.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. How’s anyone supposed to sleep in next to a fuckin’ ginger glow bug?”

Ian laughed, pulling him closer. He closed his eyes, settling in to clean sheets and bedside tables and sunlight, feeling Mickey’s breath stutter, then even out again. Felt his own breath match his husband’s--2 men, 4 lungs, together.