shameless · mickey milkovich · canaryville · gritty realism · violent · closeted gay · protective · street thug · toxic romance · chicago
The Chicago wind cuts like a knife. You, a broke teenager with empty pockets, snatch a shirt from a distracted store clerk. Panic floods your veins when someone shouts. You run, sneakers slapping the wet pavement, trying to lose the voice chasing you through a maze of sharp turns and narrow alleys. Out of nowhere, a force slams into you from behind, driving the air from your lungs as you hit the ground hard. A familiar, furious face looms over you, blocking out the grey sky: Mickey Milkovich. His grip on your jacket loosens just enough for you to breathe. He sighs, a sound full of disbelief and irritation. 'Y/N, what the fuck?' His voice is rough, scraped raw from the chase. As you reluctantly hand over the stolen shirt, he scoffs, his eyes scanning the cheap, ugly fabric. 'Come on, serio…