#shameless fluff

[thebearer]

How does lip respond to like a softer reader and he’s being his normal dick self one day when she brings him lunch at work or school and she’s just like 🥺 why are you being so mean to me when I’m just here to support you?

i feel like he'd do it out of pure just asshole almost defensiveness. you bring it to him while he's at work, and all the other guys are giving him so much shit about it. like they're just being assholes and he's used to it, knows they're just fucking with him, but it irritates him to no end.

"i brought you lunch!" you're all cheery and excited, it's in a brown paper bag- lip insists- but you always draw his name with a little heart. maybe stick a note inside telling him to have a good day and you loved him. secretly, he loves it. makes his heart soar. but he can't let the guys see that- let them think he was a softy.

"yeah, i fuckin' see that." lip huffs, pulling you by your elbow lightly to the break room, ignoring the snickers of the other men as he did. "i told you to just text me when you got here."

"i did, lip." you pout. you felt like you'd done something... wrong? like lip was angry at you. you'd just brought him the lunch he always forgot. "you didn't reply so i just-"

"-you just brought it in? couldn't wait?"

"why are you- why does that even matter?" you could feel your pitch rise in that shrill, the one that meant you we teetering on a fight.

lip cringed at the sound, hovering over you so the guys couldn't see your upset expression. "you know they're gonna bust my fuckin' balls when you do shit like this. they're-they're gonna fuck with me all day about this."

"about me bringing you your lunch?" your throat burned with an all too familiar heat that meant you were close to crying- to spilling right over.

lip could see it, see it in your eyes, in the wobble of your lips. he sucked in a breath, nerves shot and itching for a cigarette desperately. "baby," though the endearment was spoken with more of a grit to it than the normal coo. "i told you to text me and i'd come to the car-"

"-why are you mad at me right now?" you squeaked, voice bubbling up with a cry. "i just brought you your lunch, lip." then the tears come. the big tears that flood your water line before rolling down your cheeks, always making lip's heart break- even more so now because he was the asshole who made you cry.

lip shuttles you to the car, wrapped in his arm, hoping the guys wouldn't see you. wouldn't see the way he cooed at you, hushed gentle apologies and kisses on wet cheeks, sharing his sandwich with you sweetly.

[thelostmagicians]

Unlucky | Lip Gallagher

Summary: Lip Gallagher has a shitty life, but he still has a chance of a happy future with you. [2.4k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, insecure Lip

♡

Lip Gallagher has always considered himself unlucky for as long as he could remember. If you asked him to describe his life in five words he’d use shitty, really shitty, and extremely shitty.  

He was dealt a crappy hand since the beginning not standing a fighting chance even as a kid. 

There was always so much crap to deal with, whether it was bills that needed to be paid, kids that need to be taken care of, or anything dealing with Frank and Monica, sometimes he felt as if the weight of the world was resting on his chest and the only breath he’d be able to take peacefully would be his final one. He’s grateful for all the help he has because everyone pulls their weight as much as they can, but sometimes he just wishes life was just a little bit kinder to him. He wishes that he was able to do something with his high IQ, make something of himself and finally get out of this hell hole, but that didn’t roll over so well. But just as he was slowly losing hope the universe finally took pity on him and gave him you, so now he’s hanging onto you with everything he’s got. 

_

It’s quiet in the Gallagher household when Lip shuffles out of bed. He can’t remember the last time he was able to sleep past 7am, so when he wakes up to birds chirping at 9am instead of the usual yelling and chaos, he’s surprised and even a little scared. He makes his way towards the bathroom getting ready to fight whoever is next in line, but finds it empty and even clean. He’s shuffling around, looking through doors to find a sense of life in his otherwise loud home when he hears a squeal from the backyard. He doesn’t think twice before grabbing a nearby bat and hurtling through the backdoor towards the pool, but he stops once he sees the atmosphere is anything, but fearful. Frannie is being tossed back and forth between Carl and Mickey in the pool, Fiona and Ian are chasing Liam with the garden hose and Debbie is bringing in watered down lemonade from the kitchen. 

He has no idea what caused this change of pace, but he isn’t mad about it. Just as he’s about to make himself known, he feels a soft touch caressing his back. 

“Hey baby,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his neck. 

He turns his head at your sweet voice finally fully awakening his sleepy trance. Lip tugs you towards him by the belt loops of your, too short, cut off shorts and breathes into your neck. Hands slowly creeping down towards your ass to grab and pet, not socially acceptable in front of family, but he couldn’t care less. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he rasps into the valley of your chest, slightly picking you up to hug you closer. “What’s going on out here?”

“Thought everyone could use a day off especially in this heat, so Debs and I planned a pool party. Wanna join me?”

He pulls back on slightly to finally get a look at your face, your eyes are kind and happy followed by a mischievous smile. 

“Sure, let me get my trunks on and I’ll be down soon.” You reward him with a soft peck on his chapped lips and an arm squeeze before moving out of his hold and grabbing some leftover toast. 

The day goes by without a hitch. Everyone enjoys the much deserved break filled with laughter, junk food, and only a few fights. You’re nearly on top of Lip as you cuddle as close as you can basking in the happiness before you get ready to go out. There are only a handful of days that you and Lip both get off at the same time, so any day given is taken as a golden opportunity to spend some time together, leaving your worries at home. You plant a small peck to Lip’s cheek before untangling yourself from his hold as he answers the ringing phone. 

You don’t hear much of the conversation, just faint hmms of acknowledgement as you're flying past rooms trying to get ready as fast as you can. You’re struggling with your heels as Lip comes over and steadies you, your smile meeting with his frown.

“Sweetheart, they called me in to cover someone else’s shift and you know I hate to do this, but they’re offering me time and half..” he trails off.

A quick look of disappointment flashes on your face, before you cover it up with a reassuring look. You’re disappointed, sure, but not at Lip. Never at Lip. Just the shitty circumstances that forces the both of you to work as much as you can just to make ends meet.  

“It’s okay, I get it. We can always reschedule, don’t worry about it.” You pull him in and hold on to his waist hoping to ease his guilt, but your efforts go to waste as his eyebrows stay furrowed and his frown deepens. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear it,” Lip murmurs against your lips before squeezing your arm and letting you go. 

You watch him leave, slowly pulling off your heels and plopping yourself on the old couch, sighing already missing Lip. Your eyes shift trying to think of things to do now that your night opened up, but your mind keeps drifting back to Lip. You had eaten dinner earlier with everyone, skipping out on dessert and opting to get your fill when you go out, but now that plans have changed you were now missing both your boyfriend and something sweet to nibble on.

You quickly change out of your clothes and put on a pair of old shorts before deciding to make a batch of brownies. Lip works hard and if you guys couldn’t go out for dessert tonight, then you were going to bring dessert to him. 

He’s halfway through his shift when he spots you coming in, hands holding a tupperware to your chest. 

“Honey, what are you doing down here,” he shouts from across the room.

“Wanted to spend some time with you before I leave for my shift. I made some brownies since we missed dessert, care to join me?” you plead hopefully.

Lip’s heart aches with love and a lot of guilt. He can’t believe you would go through all that trouble just to see him. He calls out to say he’s taking his break before leading you to a secluded corner. 

“I’m really sorry about today,” he hugs you from behind swaying back and forth, mouth opening occasionally as you feed him a chunk of the sweet treat. 

You squeeze his wrist in response, “s’lright you can’t help it. I just like spending time with you.”

He smiles softly for the first time that night, stress immediately leaving his body. “Though, I love that you did all this for me, I don’t love the idea that you were walking alone this late at night.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep you company until you can walk me home then,” you compromise. 

Lip’s shift goes by somewhat fast now that you’re here to keep him company. He’ll leave his station sporadically to check up on you and to keep you from falling asleep. He’s in the final stretch now, only 30 more minutes before you get to go home and fall asleep holding each other, after a long day. He looks over hoping to catch your eye and send you a smile when he feels his face slowly morphing into a glare. A glare aimed at the guy standing way too close to you, a guy whose intentions go beyond a friendly conversation, and a guy who on paper was everything you deserved, but Lip couldn’t be. 

You finally glance at Lip sending a small wave and smile as you keep nodding along to the fucker next to you. He had fluffy brown hair and honestly looked quite plain if it wasn’t for the gleaming rolex on his wrist and the shiny Gucci emblem on his belt. He was a rich kid, probably from the nearby university, wasting away mommy and daddy’s money, chatting up pretty girls and sweeping them off their feet with his money. Lip’s never felt insecure about your relationship, you never gave him a reason too, but once he compares his ratty jeans and stained shirt to the pristine polo of Richie Rich he can’t help but wonder if he’s good enough for you when you can do so much better.

_

Lip was struggling. He never learned how to tie a tie before and now that the time has come, he’s racking his brain trying to get the knot perfect. He knew you couldn’t care less about a stupid tie, you were anything but superficial, but since that dreaded night when he witnessed you being chatted up by Richie Rich, Lip’s come to the conclusion that he was going to try his hardest to give you the perfect life. 

When Lip proposed going up to the north side for dinner, you were shocked. You’ve been there a few times mostly on walks or running errands, but you’ve never been there to spend actual money considering neither of you could afford it. The most you and Lip would do is windowshop and daydream about the things you would buy if you had the money, before being chased off by the glaring sales people.

He picks you up at your door, pecking your cheek softly and telling you how beautiful you look. He takes your hand and leads you to the borrowed car before pulling out an expensive bouquet from the backseat. Your hands flatter as you mutter a quiet thanks. You’re a little confused at the grand gesture since Lip’s never gotten you flowers before, at least not without reason. He’s gotten you flowers exactly four times since he’s known you: the first on your first date, the second for your graduation, and the last two times for your anniversary. And all those times the flowers were below 5 bucks, something he picked up from the corner store. But the bouquet he gave you now had to be worth at least a day’s salary, you and Lip had a mutual understanding since the start that since money was scarce you wouldn’t spend it on materialistic things for each other, but lately it seems like he forgot that promise. He’s been taking you out to eat nearly everyday, always putting money down and never letting you pay, surprising you with little gifts, but worst of all he’s been running himself haggard, taking up as many shifts as he possibly could. 

He notices your quiet demeanor as he starts driving, “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I just…” you hesitate, not wanting to offend him. “I’m grateful for all of this Lip, really I am, I love everything you’ve gotten me, but I’m confused about where you’re getting all the money from and why you’re doing all this in the first place.”

Lip tightens his grip on the wheel, “Isn’t this what you want? Isn’t this what all girls want?” Lip scoffs the memory of Richie Rich slowly coming into picture. 

“I don’t understand what changed, everything was fine before, why are you spending money you don’t have? You don’t think I know that you’re working yourself to death trying to afford this shit?” Your voice raises in annoyance. 

“Yeah, well that’s my problem, it’s none of your concern how I get all this as long as you get it.”

“It is when you’re burning money on materials that won’t even last the year instead of investing in our future.”

Lip pulls to stop as the words leave your mouth. “Our future?” He asks. 

You lick your lips, trying to think of a way to backtrack but his eyes plead with you to tell the truth. “Yeah, our future. You know when we eventually move out, get a place of our own and have a kid or two?”

Lip smiles at the thought, “You want all that with me?”

You nod incredulously, “What did you think this was you idiot? That we were just playing boyfriend/girlfriend? Look I appreciate all these gestures, but the way I see it you’re burning 50 bucks on flowers that are gonna wither in a week instead of spending that money on something like our future house.”

Lip cups your chin in endearment before pulling you in for a quick kiss. “I’m sorry, I let everything get away from me.” He huffs in frustration before letting your chin go and clenching his fists. “It’s just when you visited me at work a few weeks back you were talking to this guy. This very rich guy who… I don’t know… I know you aren’t like that, but I couldn’t help but think this is all I’ll be able to offer you, at least right now. I will never be able to whisk you away on a private jet or buy diamonds just cause.”

You giggle as you hold his face in your soft hands, his head tilting to lean into your palm. “Lip Gallager, for someone with an insanely high IQ, you are so incredibly stupid, ” He huffs out a laugh in embarrassment as you continue, “That guy, that fool was annoying as fuck. I was just trying to get him off my back. And not to mention incredibly fucking stupid. Everything that was coming out of his mouth made me cringe and thank the stars that you’re nothing like him.”

He kisses your palm before pulling you into another kiss. “Can we skip the fancy restaurant now?” you ask as he presses kisses to your pouty lips. 

“Where do you wanna go instead?”

“Family dinner, and then out for ice cream?” you suggest. He nods before putting the car back in drive. 

_

Lip Gallagher was all sorts of fucked up. But somehow in his fucked up life, he managed to find you, his light at the end of a dark, narrow, and gloomy tunnel and he thinks, maybe, he isn’t so unlucky after all.

[espressomartini7]

Under control

Carl Gallagher x reader

Everything had happened too fast. One second a creep at the bar wasn't leaving you alone, and the next, Carl was on top of him punching, beating him into shreds. And that is how you had gotten into this situation, with Carls arm slung around your shoulder as you hauled him up the stairs to the Gallagher house at 3am.

You strain as you pull Carl up the last step onto his porch, his free hand immediately shooting to his rib as he groaned in pain. "Alright, come on" you say breathlessly opening the door and leading him in before locking it behind you. "Come on Gallagher just a little more", you said trying to carry Carl up the stairs. "Fuck" Carl said breathlessly, hauling himself up the last step and into the bathroom. You pushed him gently down so that he was sitting on the toilet seat before letting him go and stepping back. You stood with your hands on your hips as you tried to catch your breath. "Stay here, I'm getting the med kit" you say leaving the bathroom and going into carls room, "Im fine I don't need a fucking med kit" carl shouted weakly from the other room, his voice still laced in pain. You sigh in annoyance as you walk into the bathroom with the box, you stand at the doorway, cross your arms and look Carl straight in the face, "You're a fucking moron Gallagher" you say shaking your head, before walking forward and wetting a clean towel with warm water.

You stand in between Carls slightly open legs as you hold up his chin with one hand, while cleaning cuts on his face with another. Gently dabbing with a warm wet cloth as he winced in pain. "Hey, I'm serious I'm fine" Carl said grabbing your hand and looking down. You grab his chin and force him to look back at your face, "Why did you do that, hm?" you ask gently. Carls eyebrows tense suddenly at your question, "Because that asshole was touching you" he sneered, venom seeping from every word as his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I was handling it, you could have gotten into trouble Carl, you just got out of juvie you can't afford to do things like that" you say sighing as you pull out a stool and sit in front of Carl. "I had it under control" he said calmly looking back at you, you scoff as you take a bandage out of the med kit. "Take your shirt off" you say sternly, watching at Carls eyes widen and his demeanour changes, he does as he's told and unbuttons his shirt, taking it off with a groan. You sigh as you pull the stool closer to him, and start wrapping the bandage around his bruised ribs. "You have to be careful" you say quietly, "I can't have you go to juvie again". He smiles as he looks at you, "I'm not going back to juvie, I promise, ok?" he says it so sincerely that you almost believe him. "Even if a creep starts talking to me at the bar?" you say smirking as you look up at him, "Of course not, no one touches you" he says as he grins.

[remusluvr]

sweet escape | lip gallagher

summary: Neither you nor Lip can focus on anything else except each other. content: jealously, established relationship, f oral (insinuated m oral), unedited

He can't but watch you as you talk with your friends. You're wearing the dress he had hoped you'd wear. Every time he sees you in it, there's just no way his focus can be on anything else.

"If you're gonna keep eye-fucking your girlfriend, Lip, then I'm gonna go find Trevor," Ian says, eyes rolling simultaneously and it snaps Lip back into his actual being.

"Sorry, man. What were you saying?" he stammered, hand rubbing at the back of his head. Ian just walks off and leaves him standing there. He isn't completely opposed to it. Now he can focus all his attention on you without interruptions.

And he does just that. He finds a good spot on a couch near you, close enough for you to notice him without being close enough to draw you over just yet. You look over and smile at him, he nods at you, legs spreading out on the couch. The action makes your mouth dry and you quickly look away, suddenly flustered.

He laughs to himself as he watches you regain your train of thought and rejoin the conversation. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as you look over at him again. Your bottom lip is immediately drawn into your mouth and it takes everything in himself to not go over to you right now. He's having fun making you really want him.

He slightly waves at you, barely lifting his hand and his nonchalance is making you want him more than ever. You see the girl before he does. A pretty blonde girl in a tight dress stopping to stand right in his line of sight, blocking him from your view and you from his view.

"Hi! I'm Caroline," she introduces herself, her hand moving out to shake his. He does and gives her a tight-lipped smile.

"Uh, Lip," he greets. She beams, giggling slightly.

"That's a different name, I like it," she smiles, taking the empty spot beside him. Her thighs touch his and Lip isn't sure how your burning stare doesn't set her on fire. He gets an idea, a way to really make you come over to him.

He doesn't stop the way Caroline starts sliding her foot up his shin and it makes you furious. He's your Lip and he's not doing to show this random girl that he's yours. You decide to play just as dirty, excusing yourself from your friends and finding a lonesome guy even closer to where Lip is sitting.

You flutter your lashes and poke out your chest a little more than usual. Lip wants to kill the guy that has a perfect view down your top. He cracks when he watches you lean in to whisper something in his ear and the random boy's hands move to your waist.

He's stomping over, hand stretching over your back to guide you out of this house party. You don't speak as you walk to the car.

The tension is thick as both of your car doors shut loudly. He doesn't move to start the car, idly sitting there staring out the windshield as you look over at him. You want to apologize, and as soon as you open your mouth he's throwing himself at you, lips pressing onto yours.

You moan into his mouth, hands grasping at his hair. He sighs into yours, hands feeling over any inch of your body he can get.

"Never do that again," he grumbles.

"Wouldn't have done it if you weren't letting that girl flirt with you," you huff back, pulling away from him. He knows he shouldn't have but he loved seeing you riled up. It was just unfortunate that you got him back this time.

"Never again," he agrees, starting the car. His hand reaches out, landing on your thigh. The car ride is just as quiet as your walk as he massages at the bare skin. You're glad he doesn't live far, you need him now.

Both of you are immediately stripping each other of your clothes as soon as you step into the house. No one is home as he pushes you up the stairs to his room.

"Fuck, you can't wear that dress ever again," he teases, teeth nibbling at your ear as his hands run down your sides. Your back is pressed against his front and you're completely intoxicated with him. "You look gorgeous in it, baby."

"Thank you," you giggle as his lips move down to your neck. He presses firm kisses onto the delicate skin, hands traveling up to cup at your braless breasts. "Lip, need you."

He obliges, turning you in his grip and helping you out of your panties. Another one of his favorite items on you, a cute black, lacy pair that you had bought for him on your anniversary. He pushes you onto your back on the bed as he rids himself of the rest of his clothes.

Your eyes are trained on him as he undresses. He smirks at you as he takes off his boxers. The way your breathing increases and your thighs press together has his head filling with fog. Yours is practically a cloud with how foggy you are by the time he's crawling up the bed to hover you, hand brushing a stray hair out of your face.

He's slow with the way he kisses you. It's delicate like he's savoring every little bit of it. His tongue explores your mouth messily, saliva sloppily covering your lips. You lick at his lips desperately when he pulls away, just wanting him back.

Lip doesn't say anything as he moves down the bed, kissing down your body as he goes. He stops at your core as he presses kisses onto your inner thighs, hands grabbing at the skin to hold them apart. You think you could pass away when he finally licks up your pussy, tongue briefly dipping inside of you.

"Oh, Lip," you moan out, hands tangled in his hair as he continues. No man should ever be could ever be as good at eating pussy as Lip is. He knows just how to have your back arching off the bed, hands pulling at his hair, and his name falling out of your mouth.

He's messy with it too, lapping noisily at you. His lips suction around your clit as he teases your hole with two of his fingers. You squirm underneath him and his grip tightens on your hip. He has you pressed so firmly into the bed it makes your head dizzy.

"L-oh, fuck! Holy shit," you whine, tears brimming your eyes as he looks up at you. This is his favorite view in the entire world. You falling apart simply because of his mouth. His ego is huge as you choke on your words. All he has to do is look up at you with those wide eyes, big hands holding you down and it throws you over the edge.

You moan out his name as he licks at you. He's not ready to stop when you finally push at his head. He kisses your thighs as your breathing evens out.

"Good?" he smirks, moving up to lie beside you. You turn into his body, resting your head on his chest. You huff, squinting your eyes to look at him.

"Shut up." You kiss him, being able to faintly taste yourself on him. You reach down and he huffs pulling away to rest his head on your shoulder. "What's wrong? Why aren't you hard?"

"Uh, I- I, holy fuck this is embarrassing, I came when I was eating you out." He expects you to laugh at him, but your eyes somehow glaze over even more.

"Well, can I help you out?" you ask, moving down the bed. His hand subconsciously moves the hair out of your face as he takes a breath. He's already getting hard again.

"Course, baby. Go for it."

[hadesrise]

heart of gold, heart of cold.

summary ➳ you’re much more than just the nicest boy in southside chicago

pairings ➳ ian gallagher x male reader x mickey milkovich

warnings ➳ fluff, foul language, violence, soft boy!reader, homophobia, established polyamorous relationship, absolute badassery lol, mentions of sex, a little apathy, small mention of blood, good but actually not trope, some mental issues

author’s note ➳ haven’t watched shameless, only gallavich scenes and few other moments. my anger issues can’t handle watching all of that. which is why none of my writing of them’s gonna be accurate to the timeline of the series.

Ian and Mickey couldn’t remember the time you were ever mean to anyone even before meeting you, had never even heard of your name being thrown around without it being extremely positive. Everyone had to say everything about you, which is understandable, considering you were definitely the odd type to be in southside Chicago — this place was full of shit with robbery being nonchalantly committed, guns shooting off in different areas, bunch of unconvicted pedophiles walking around, and teenagers high on whatever fucking heavy drugs they first could touch, while you’re out there, helping whoever you think might need help and genuinely being nice to even the worst fucking thugs you would ever meet.

It’s questionable, how someone could be in southside and grow up perfectly sane and not bottled up with any issues or anger.

You’ve always been the talk around the neighborhood, how the (L/n) kid helped some randos again, how you talked to them with the nicest personality and utmost respect, how you smile at anyone who passes by whenever you make eye contact with them, how you were calm in dealing with a situation most people would get frustrated at; just about anything positive. It wasn’t difficult for both Ian and Mickey to fall for you as much as they fell for each other. You were like a single flower blooming in the middle of a garden that a person would come back to just to see your beauty; something about your softness and kind personality struck a core into both of their hearts.

They never had someone like you in their life. A calm, soothing, comforting presence, like the warm sun in the morning. An accepting, welcoming presence, like the mother earth. You’ve always been gentle with them — not something they’re used to, considering the type of household they grew up in — always checking in, making sure they’re okay even if they push you away, taking care of them.

You’re one of the first person Ian came out to other than his family, because he knew you’d never judge. Mickey was rather an asshole in your first meet, nearly beating you up, but the way you didn’t snark or your nice demeanor didn’t change no matter what insults he threw at you made him hesitant, which never happened with Milkovich’s.

When they started sleeping together, you caught on it quickly before anyone else ever did and kept it a secret the entire time, knowing the personal problems they had to deal with; Ian and Mickey only found out you knew when you stopped Terry from making Mickey have sex with Svetlana by just walking in on the interaction. The near innocence in your eyes as you tilted your head slightly to the side, just staring at Terry until he grew uncomfortable and rushed off. He could never stand being near to you, especially with how holier than thou you were. It wasn’t actually an accident to walk in, but they don’t know that.

Despite the awkward circumstances, you were calm and paid Svetlana a good amount before getting both of them dressed and taking care of them, even though they didn’t have to be taken cared of. Your gentleness with them that time really caused something to burst within their chest, the same feeling they were starting to develop towards each other. The acceptance, the comfort, the gentleness. Everything about you felt magical — you felt magical.

Even after Ian and Mickey figured out their shit together, officially came out, figured out their shit together again that both of them liked you, flirted with you and won you over, and officially came out again to their family as polyamorous couple, they had never seen you be a dick. Sure, you swore a lot sometimes when you drop something or miss something, but never towards anyone. They never saw you doing the typical southside thing, being rebellious, smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol, doing drugs or shit.

You’re always nice — and it’s supposed to be a good thing, but it also gets a lot concerning, especially when some dumb fucking guy punched you in the face for mistaking you as someone who slept with his girlfriend and you had the audacity to forgive him when he apologized, making Mickey nearly wanting to strangle you right then and there.

“Why the fuck did you forgive him?” Mickey snarls and shuts the fridge door close, ice pack in hand as he throws it to Ian, who immediately began pressing it to your cheek that was beginning to form a bruise.

You shrugged, “He just mistook me for someone else.”

“Yeah, and fucking punched you in the face without asking first who the fuck you are.” Mickey retorted, giving you a death glare. He moves around to stand beside you on the opposite side of Ian.

You were sitting on the counter facing the dining table where Fiona, Lip, Liam, Carl, Debbie, Sandy, Mandy, and Franny were, all contorting worried look since you’re the nicest and you having a single bruise means when the people you helped before sees it they’re gonna flip over and bury the guy ten feet under while still breathing. Everyone knew you, and you’re literally the holiest within southside, so they naturally hated when someone messed with you.

Your hand shoots up to rub his arm gently, warm look in your eyes as your soft voice speaks to comfort him. “Calm down, Mick. Let it go, I’m fine.” You smile softly, “It was just a little mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Mickey frowns, still angry yet definitely calm now that you’re giving him comfort. “You’re too fucking nice, it’s making me sick.”

You chuckled, grabbing the ice pack from Ian to press it on your cheek yourself. You pull Ian to kiss him on the cheek before doing the same to Mickey, knowing it will help tone down their anger. “At least I have my own guard dogs.” You joke, earning a snicker from the group.

“Haha, very funny.” Mickey sarcastically replies.

Ian sighs, “(Y/n), I think Mickey’s right though. You’re too nice, maybe a bit much. Even to Frank and Terry.” He agreed with his other boyfriend, who puts his hands up in a gesture of i told you so.

You tilted your head, still smiling. “Frank’s your father and Terry’s Mickey’s father. No matter how horrible they are, I don’t think I could treat them any differently from how I treat others.” Shrugging, you ignored both of your boyfriends’ groan and sipped on the orange juice resting on your side.

“What’s up with you treating everyone equally and being unnaturally nice to even someone who doesn’t deserve it?” Fiona asked, genuinely confused with her brows furrowed together and crease forming on her forehead. “You were even nice with Monica.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking for a while.

You could tell them what was really going on, but it would be too much to dump it on them all of a sudden. Being nice and having a lot of patience is a lot difficult, but you learned to, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to survive. It’s a survival skill that you had to adapt to; be nice and you get everything you want. A little... useful tactic that you taught yourself, though it’s more than that.

Deciding against telling them, because it’ll get out when it gets out, you simply gave her a tight-lipped smile and shrugged. “I like spreading dumb kindness. I think it helps people who deals with mental health issues that their relatives probably don’t even know. I might’ve been nice to them and turned their bad day into good day. Small things like that has an impact, you know.”

Mickey scowled, “That makes no sense.”

You simply smiled and patted his cheek, turning to Ian who placed his hand on your waist. “I still think you should’ve done something, (Y/n). Press charges or something.” He said, wanting to convince you.

Shaking your head with a reassuring smile, you kissed his lips and Mickey’s, successfully shutting both of them up as you hopped off of the counter. “I’m going to change. Take me out on a date, will you two?” You let your hands linger on each of their arm before walking away with an angelic smile, leaving the boys staring after you in slight awe.

“Oh my god, you two are so fucking smitten with him.” Sandy remarked, laughing. The others nodded in agreement, deeply amused.

Ian and Mickey rolled their eyes, “The fuck we’re not.” Mickey denies, though failing to convince them and himself.

“But you are,” Lip shrugged. “He’s got you wrapped all around his finger.”

“Kinda cute if you ask me,” Fiona chuckles.

“Oh, fuck off.” Ian retorts, a smile across his face.

Neither would admit it, but they really were. Equally smitten with one another, your relationship had always been wholesome, except for the times all three of you were friends with benefits.

Ian and Mickey slept together first obviously, only started hooking up with you after the incident with Terry. Mickey was first to do it when he went to your house to spend time with you since you’re the only person he could trust aside from Ian, the casual conversation taking a turn after he had asked if you would fuck him if you were gay, which you told him you were, causing Mickey to literally demand a fuck from you.

“Hey, man?” Mickey slowly called to you who was sitting on the opposite side of the ridiculously big couch, eyes focused on the movie with a can of coke in your hand.

“Hm?” You hum, turning to look at him despite being completely indulged in the movie plot. Mickey liked that, how you’re willing to give him your full attention even though you’re busy and don’t even have to look at him at all.

He glances down, picking with his hand, slightly nervous. But he knew you wouldn’t judge, you never did. It was unlikely of him to feel this way, but Mickey couldn’t help it. Nearly unbearable to talk to someone as nice and caring as you yet can’t bring himself to stay away.

“Would you—would you fuck me if you were, you know, fucking gay?”

Your brows raised at the random question. Though it wasn’t difficult to realize it’s because of the previous gay scene in the movie you’re watching where the main characters made love to each other without it being censored and shit. “Well,” You started with a small smile adorning your face, “I don’t know if you knew but I’m actually gay, Milkovich.”

Mickey’s head snapped to your side, eyes wide. “Wait, what? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Or Ian?”

“You didn’t ask,” You simply shrugged. “I normally don’t go around announcing to everybody what my sexuality is. Kind of weird if I did that,” You joked, earning a glare from the Milkovich. “But honestly, I didn’t think it was something I had to tell you or Ian. I just let people guess or notice it on their own.”

“How the fuck do they even notice?" Mickey remarks, furrowing his brows. “I’ve literally never seen you with any guys or girls. Have you even hooked up with somebody?”

You chuckled, “Nope. Wasn’t really interested.”

“Damn,” Mickey gave you a weird look. It was so odd to see someone in southside not doing drugs or shit, let alone sleeping around with whoever they liked. He wasn’t used to it. Now, you feel like a fucking holy being or something. But then, Mickey realizes you never actually answered his question, so he repeated again. “You didn’t answer my fucking question, would you fuck me?”

You’re gay, so might as well shoot his shot. Can’t really miss this opportunity.

You stare at him, something glinting in your eyes that definitely wasn’t innocence. Your lips slowly formed a sly grin as you tilted your head. “What if I said yes? What are you gonna do?”

A smile appeared on Mickey’s lips, “Then fucking get on with it, (L/n).”

Conveniently, you were a switch so Mickey didn’t have to pretend he didn’t like having dick in his ass. He told Ian he slept with you that came off as surprise since apparently Ian also didn’t know you were gay, which led to Ian sleeping with you as well.

“You’re so weird,” Ian laughed when he caught you stacking some nuggets together to build a makeshift tower, having woken up from a friendly sleepover at your house.

You grinned and stacked the last piece of nugget, looking at Ian as you gestured to your work of art. “Tadaaaa!” It caused him to burst out laughing, sitting down beside you on the couch.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked between laughter.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I was bored and you weren’t waking up anytime soon. Figured I’d kill my time.” Smiling, you offered him a can of beer that was sitting on the table, having just taken out from the fridge. Ian accepted, thanking you. “How did you sleep?”

Ian smiled after taking a gulp from the beer and placed it down on the table, “Great, actually. Like the times I haven’t been able to sleep isn’t real.” Relief was evident on his face, considering how big the bags under his eyes were. He never mentioned that you were the reason of him being unable to fall asleep, always thinking of you ever since that horrible day that suddenly turned great with your presence. Hearing about you sleeping with Mickey made him decide nothing will happen if he just thinks around, thus the sleepover.

A soft look crosses your face as you begin to play with his hair, touch displaying gentleness Ian had never felt before. His eyes met yours, such a warm gaze making him feel loved even without doing anything. “Well, I’m glad the cuddle worked, Gallagher. You can always come to me when you can’t sleep, I’ll hold you until you can.” Voice merely above a whisper, you gently told him.

Ian was feeling breathless. Everything about your welcoming and accepting nature deemed temptation; his pupils dilating, throat suddenly dry as if he’s been dehydrated, stomach growling as if hasn’t eaten in days, feeling your soft hand brush through his ginger hair as you stared at him innocently yet almost seducing. The tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. And with the growing urge to just give in to the temptation, Ian leaned forward without a second thought, capturing your lips in a kiss.

You made a noise of surprise that immediately caused Ian to pull away, a panicked look in his eyes, scared he might’ve ruined the most precious friendship he’s ever had. Series of apology slipped past his lips, but you shut him up by putting a finger up to his lips.

“Don’t apologize, I’m not mad, silly.” You reassured, though concern plastered your face. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah,” His response was nearly quick. “Why do you think I agreed to a sleepover?”

That angelic smile of yours returned again, chuckling. “Okay then, Gallagher. Do whatever you want.” You said before kissing him again, letting the rest of the day continue.

Again, it was convenient that you’re a switch, because even though Ian has tried bottoming before, he preferred topping, especially with you or Mickey. Well, you and Mickey now. Those sleeping around days were a lot... wild, to say the least.

You never slept with anyone besides Ian and Mickey, always uninterested in other guys and turning them down nicely quite often, which Mandy — your bestfriend — noticed.

Questionable, of course, because there was one incident at the Alibi where she, Lip, and Fiona were present and you and Ian came out the bathroom covered in hickeys, not even bothering to hide them as the two of you sat down with them. However, when a guy noticed and realized what happened, they attempted to shoot their shot with you, miserably failing as you turned it down without further acknowledgement while Ian just shrugged, as if he already knew that was going to be your answer. Then, Mickey suddenly barged in only to tell you a short “not tired yet, are ya?” while walking to the bathroom, and you smiled at Ian before following Mickey.

It happened quite a lot in different circumstances that even the Gallaghers caught up on how Ian and Mickey are the only ones you let getting in your pants.

It was a messy and complicated time where everyone had to deal with their own shit; Mickey with his homophobic upbringing and sexual crisis, Ian with his confusion in feeling something for both you and Mickey at the same time and doubts to himself, you with accepting your romantic attraction to both of them, keeping it locked in, and fulfilling the desire to be with them by sleeping with them. It’s either they slept with each other, you slept with either of them, or the three of you slept together, all bonded somehow. Ian and Mickey were the first ones to get their shit together and officially became partners, and well... it honestly didn’t turn out good back then due to you still dealing with your own shit that nobody ever noticed. That story could be for another day, though.

The point is, your friendship used to be wholesome, but the extent of it increased more when you three settled after all that shitshow. There were some toxicity at first, especially with Mickey struggling to overcome the genuinely awful upbringing he had — he was dating a guy after all, and not just one but two — along with Ian’s diagnosis of bipolar disorder. But having each other and not giving up on each other made the toxicity disappear and morph into something positive, each of you going through some relationship development together.

Compared to back then, the three of you had grown overly comfortable with each other and the polyamorous relationship you had, not feeling discomfort when people look at you weirdly. Coming to terms with the issues truly helped.

However, neither Ian nor Mickey had come to terms with your kindness towards people who didn’t deserve it, and they absolutely have no plans of coming to terms with it at all. People can be a lot rude and asshole when you’re nice to them, which is why they simultaneously keep themselves and each other from strangling the person’s neck everytime it treated or spoke to you horribly.

Well, frankly, nobody would understand and you don’t expect them to. Too bad they’re going to have to sooner than later, because you’ve been feeling a little irritable — it’s only a matter of time before the truth cracks through the surface of friendliness and nice personality you’ve plastered on.

Once it does, people will be fucked.

You know who you are when you’re not nice; it’s never a pretty sight. It’s a bloodbath.

Everything seemed perfect.

Dinner’s pretty cheap, but not unbearable. One of the nicest things about you is that you don’t care for the price as long as it’s edible and tasty. You’re not the one to fuss over the cheapness or expensiveness of anything and the Gallaghers loved that, because you wouldn’t talk shit of how they can’t afford shit. Birthdays are special occasion where people usually ask for expensive gifts, but the Gallaghers were always reminded by you not to go grand on celebrations or presents, because you didn’t like them spending their money on something other than theirselves.

They still went with it though, going to a cheap local bar where they serve cheap dinner so everyone could celebrate the birth date of you, who was born special in southside Chicago with kindness that’s seemingly a curse.

The night went by smoothly, everyone enjoying their time and having fun — You, Ian, Mickey, Mandy, Sandy, Lip, Fiona, Liam, Debbie, Franny, Veronica, Kev, and even Frank who was by the bar because his family disapproved of him joining. He still did, considering you’re the nicest kid he’s ever met.

Perfect. Everything was perfect. Too perfect that it’s becoming strange, how well this night is going.

You were absolutely correct to feel like that.

Mickey’s blood was boiling at the man that had suddenly approached the table with a friendly smile only to go around spitting whatever the fuck he wanted to talk about, mainly nasty things. But according to him, he knew you and you knew him, well enough, even though they didn’t know him despite being your boyfriends. The Gallaghers were collectively surprised of his sudden appearance, considering none of them knew him, but concerns littered their faces when the man mentioned you.

“I honestly don’t know what (Y/n)’s thinking, hanging out with Gallaghers and dating one,” The man, who ( unwantedly ) introduced himself as Caius snickered.

Ian, despite his annoyance increasing at Caius’ presence, tried to remain calm. “What’s it to you? And fyi, he’s also dating him, so don’t fucking talk like that.” He pointed at Mickey, who glared daggers at the man.

“Fuck, he’s dating two guys?” Caius laughed mockingly. “And a Milkovich at that. But aren’t you, like, bipolar though? With the gene.” His mention of the diagnosis made Mickey furious as he slammed his hands against the table and attempted to stand up, only to be held back by Ian. Everyone had their blood boiling now, but forced themselves to keep calm since it’s your birthday. Nobody wanted to ruin it for you.

“I guess crazy psychopaths are his type, huh? With how the screws in his head are fucking loose, I’m not surprised.” He snarled, looking at both of them. However, his words cuts through the boiling rage within Ian and Mickey as they both processed his words, furrowing their brows in confusion at the mention of the screws in your head being loose.

Before anyone could utter a single word, the loud sound of wine bottle smashing against the back of Caius’ head erupts throughout the entire bar as he dropped to the floor cursing loudly, revealing you holding the remaining end of the shattered bottle. The nice look on your face no longer visible as it contorted into an emotionless expression, eyes holding utmost coldness with some unknown darkness within them that sent chills up everyone’s spine.

You merely acknowledged Caius groaning in pain on the floor, throwing away the shattered piece of the wine bottle to the side as you nonchalantly patted off your hands of any invisible dirt.

“Oh my fucking god,” Fiona was the first to react, terrified as she witnessed Caius touch the back of his head and get a blood on his palm. The other Gallaghers were already standing a feet away as they all jumped up and away from the table when you smashed a bottle on the man’s head, completely shocked and stunned, Lip and Carl letting out holy fuck.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

“What the fuck did you just do?”

Ian and Mickey exclaimed in sync, with Ian looking at you while Mickey at Caius, both eyes wide and shock on their faces.

You shrugged, the usual smile completely nonexistent. “Smashed a bottle on an old friend’s head after talking shit about my boyfriends.” The slightest hint of apathy in your tone worried them a bit, but you quickly shifted your cold gaze to Caius. “Quit fucking moaning, Caius. You already saw it coming when you decided to approach them while I was gone for the bathroom.”

“Fuck,” Caius groaned, laying on his back to shoot you a glare. “I just got fucking discharged from the hospital you put me in, shithead. A little nice sympathy maybe? The one you fucking show people.”

“Certainly didn’t need sympathy when you brought up Ian’s bipolar disorder,” You smiled sarcastically. “And don’t be fucking dramatic, it was just few broken bones.”

“You made me fucking bleed internally and you wanna call that just a few broken bones?” Caius snapped. Everyone’s eyes widened.

Rolling your eyes, you folded the sleeves up of your button up while clenching and unclenching your fist, something that Ian and Mickey didn’t miss. “Serves you right for planning to shoot Micky Milkovich. Unfortunately for you, I genuinely and utterly loathe someone describing either of them as crazy psychopaths, especially since Ian’s been diagnosed bipolar, so...”

You grinned sadistically.

“Consider today your finally meet God and be sent to Hell day.”

Everyone watched as you rub your face while talking to the cops about what happened inside the bar, the back of your hand all bloody and knuckles busted, probably tainted in both Caius’ and your own blood. It was scary to see you so violent and, as Caius said, have screws in the head loose. The unlikeliness and the way you acted and looked so different from how you usually were terrified them.

Not Ian and Mickey, though. They were standing on both of your sides while the rest were a few feet behind, still attempting to calm down from the shock of witnessing your change in attitude and your true colors seeping through the cracks.

Your entire demeanor now was back to normal; not that cold and expressionless presence with terrifying apathy, but the warm, full of expression and accepting presence. You had quietly greeted the cops earlier with a small smile that turned into a frown of guilt, which somehow was enough for them not to handcuff you despite the damage you caused on Caius.

“I probably shouldn’t have done all of those to him,” You muttered thoughtfully while biting your lip. “I don’t think I regret it though. He crossed the line, I got pissed.”

“You normally don’t get pissed, Mr. (L/n).” One of the cops remarked.

Shrugging your shoulders, you gave them a small smile. “That’s just what you think of me. I don’t really care if people insult me or talk shit about me, but my boyfriends are one of the most significant people in my life, so they’re off-limits. I really can’t handle anyone talking shit about them.” Your soft tone falling down to a serious and firm one, you narrowed your eyes at the ambulance that contained Caius’ unconscious body.

“Are Mr. Milkovich and Mr. Gallagher basically your trigger?” The other cop wondered.

You nodded immediately, “Yeah. I think so.” Rubbing your nape with the uninjured hand nervously, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Shouldn’t you be handcuffing me? I definitely went too far, I blacked out in anger, and he’s unconscious with some injuries that are probably worse than what I think, so…” You slowly brought your hands together, ready to get arrested.

“Don’t worry, witnesses came forward and shared what happened. They confirmed Caius went too far with the disclosure of a person’s medical condition confidentiality.” One of the officers stated, gently bringing your hands down.

Your eyes snapped to the cops, “Wait, really?”

“Yes, they understood how off-limits your boyfriends are and immediately talked to us after we arrived.” The two cops smiled, seeing the look of relief on your face. “We’ll get going then, Mr. (L/n). You have nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you.” Sighing in relief, you gave them a look of gratitude as they began getting into their car before your blank face returned.

“You’re fucking one hell of an actor, (Y/n) (L/n).” Mickey remarked after seeing your face fall and glare threateningly at the ambulance as soon as the cops drove off.

“Hey,” Ian softly called to catch your attention, cupping your face. “Look at me. Look at us. Calm down, (Y/n). It’s fine, we’re fine, okay? You don’t have to be mad anymore.”

Mickey watched silently from the side with his arm around Ian’s waist and the other hand gently rubbing your arm to help bring comfort to you. Tense shoulders slowly softening and body relaxing, they witnessed the rage storm calm in your eyes as the hard gaze softened and you respond to their gesture by melting into their touch.

You sighed deeply, “Okay.”

Both of them couldn’t help but notice the empathy slipping back into your eyes and expression, brightening it up, making it seem more alive. Your eyes looked dead earlier when you were beating the life out of Caius until he was barely breathing, it honestly scared and freaked the fuck out of your boyfriends, even though they would probably never admit it. It was like seeing a soulless person because of the lack of empathy and all.

Though, seeing that happen definitely made them reconsider the thought that you grew up perfectly sane without bottled up issues in southside Chicago — They didn’t realize the bottled up issues was simply your kindness and nice atittude, the main things that literally allows you to get whatever you want from anyone because it’s the easiest way to manipulate others into giving you what you want, and they wouldn’t even realize the manipulation.

That’s your own shit to deal with; you force yourself to be nice and caring, so your apathy wouldn’t come up to the surface and destroy things. However, Ian and Mickey somehow knew none of the nice or caring side you showed to them were fake. Because if they were, would you even be in a relationship with them?

It would probably take a lot of time to figure you out, especially when you seem to like hiding behind the nicest person in southside Chicago mask and never let the surface crack to get even a peek inside, but they were willing to try. You’re their boyfriend after all.

“We’ll figure it out, (Y/n).” Mickey gently says. “We always fucking do. Right, Gallagher?” He smirked at Ian, who instantly nodded with an of course, before Mickey grabbed the back of his head and kissed his lips.

You smiled at them, genuinely.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[gangstagandalf]

🌶️ I’m not even going to apologize for this. 🌶️

Here my lovelies. Life is hard, you deserve some shameless Ominis x mc fluff 😉 Anyone feeling inspired to write a fic??

(All characters aged up and into adulthood, 18+)

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

could i have a rum or whiskey (you pick!) of lip gallagher? i know you said 'potential' about lip, but i still wanted to ask! i have such a huge crush on him haha (it can be dirty too if you feel like!)

Tradition.

warnings - smut. cursing.

my first ever lip fic!! i've loved shameless for YEARS but I always felt like there wasn't much of a fandom on here for it. but, we're in the JAW renaissance after all. lip girls unite!!

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

You catch his gaze across the room, and you know you're done for.

Everyone's dancing, singing, drinking. Celebrating Mickey and Ian, at long last. You should join them. But you can't tear your eyes away from Lip Gallagher.

He rises from his seat and walks over to the bathrooms, not looking back once. He knows you'll follow.

You do. You stand up and slink across the floor, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You knock twice before slipping through the door, locking it behind you.

He's on you immediately. His hands grab at your ass as you gasp, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth. He crowds you against the wall, hips rutting into yours.

"Can't stop lookin' at you in this fuckin' dress," he murmurs against your lips.

"Can't stop looking at you in that tux," you whisper back. "You clean up real nice, Gallagher."

He grins at you before kissing you again, hands slipping underneath your dress to pull your underwear down.

Lip spins you around so you're bent over the sink, dress rucked up around your waist.

"I want you to watch," he tells you lowly, body draped over yours. "Want you to watch as I fuck you."

You hear the telltale sound of his zipper coming down, before you feel him pressing at your back. He slides home in one smooth thrust, both of you groaning in unison. He grips your hip with one hand, the other anchored at the back of your neck.

Lip sets a frantic pace, very aware of the fact that his entire family is still on the dance floor outside. You moan when he shifts his hips upwards, entirely too loud for the situation.

"Shhh, baby. You don't want them to hear, do you? Want them to hear how filthy you are?"

You shake your head and he chuckles, low and mischievous. Lip snakes a hand around your body to rest over your mouth, effectively shutting you up.

He doesn't let up, hips snapping into yours as you both get closer and closer. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding onto him for dear life.

"Come for me, baby. That's it. Good girl, that's it."

You fall over the edge as his honeyed words meet your ears, stars dancing behind your eyelids. He finds his release as soon as you do, groaning lowly against your back.

Suddenly, you laugh, amusement vibrating your body.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You're a cliche, Gallagher."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Best man and maid of honour. You've just fed into every wedding stereotype ever."

He grins at you, buttoning himself up as you fix your hair in the mirror.

"It's not cliche. It's tradition."

[jay-quinox]

(another twitter cross-post)

Rub-a-dub-dub, two idiots in a tub!

📻🍎

Fanart of the wonderful @keelywolfe's fic "Splish Splash" — This scene needed to be drawn!

[fandomout]

Lip Gallagher x Reader-Taking care of him after a day of construction

Hello! I'm trying to get back into writing, so I am looking into my box to write any requests. Please be patient with me. In the meantime, please enjoy some other fics I have going on.

You get out unreasonably late from work, but your boss insisted you stay a few more “minutes”. 

Your about to finally get off work when you’re reminded that Lip should have been home by now. However, something in you told you to call him. 

It rings for so long that you can only assume he’s sleeping. Feeling guilt, your about to hang up when his voice rings out, “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey?...You sound very lively at this time of night.”

“Yeah. Just out at the bar.” “Out at the bar? Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You don’t need to worry about me. Just out with the guys.”

“Them?”

“The construction guys. It was a work requirement, and-Wait, why are you up so late?”

“Work too actually.” 

He gives a slight laugh and replies, “Well, ain't that a bitch.” 

“Yeah. It is.”

“Wait a minute, you're walking home all alone then.”

“I’m fine, Lip. Just get home safe. Okay?”

“Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“Let me walk you home. I’ll be right there. I’m pretty sure I know a shortcut to your job from here.”

“Lip, You really don't have to.”

“But I want to. You right in front or?”

You smile and reply, ”Just a block or two from work.”

“Alright. Be there in two shakes.” 

You're leaning against the wall when Lip comes out of the alley nearby running. You shake your head at him as he pulls up to you breathless. He gives a drunken smile and leans against the wall almost falling onto you, and he slurs out, “Sorry. “ 

“Drank a bit much, huh.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Alright. Well, come on, let's go. It’s getting colder by the second. “

“Alrighty.” 

Getting inside your apartment, you are surprised and pleased to see your roommate not home at the moment. Lip plops onto the couch while you head to the kitchen to see what you can fix up. When you finish, you head over to the couch. 

As soon as you see Lip take his hands out of his pockets, your eyes go wide, and your hands grab onto his. 

You shout, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

“What?”

“You’re hands are all fucked up, and you don’t say anything.”

“I’m fine.”

“I'll decide. Your meter of fine is just as fucked as your hands.” 

“Don’t be mad.”

“Of course, I’m mad.” You huff at him and get a bowl, some rags, peroxide, and bandages. 

“It’s not-“ You glare rewards silence from him.

When you finish, you get to eat semi-cold food. You don’t look over at him as you watch a movie.

Halfway through the movie, Lip can’t take it anymore as he kicks your foot gently. You look up and he says, “don’t be mad anymore seriously.”

“Lip, I just wish you cared or said something. It hurts that I care more than you do.”

“Well I love that you care more.” It quirks a smile although you try to stand your ground. Lip notices and hugs you. "You can't stay mad when I'm like this."

"I'll sure as hell try though." You both laugh at the comment, and he kneels in front of you.

He clears his throat and admits, "I'm sorry that I didn't say anything. In my fucked up ways, I didn't think it was a big deal...Since meeting you, I'm just not used to having someone care so much." You nod, and he kisses your hands. The affection only makes you want to be closer as you lean forward and kiss him.

He pulls away and says, "Thank you for taking care of me."

Shameless Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Hope your day got better

[remarcely]

Sleeping Robin

Since his arrival at Wayne Manor, it had been remarkably difficult for Damian to feel comfortable expressing his feelings, especially when it came to something so menial as affection. Dick had been the first to wear him down, constantly encouraging hugs and sharing his feelings, but it had taken time.

As emotionally volatile as the whole family was, they knew pushing for results would only scare the boy off. It had taken months for Damian to stop standing rigidly still whenever Dick did hug him and allow himself to hold him back.

So, when Robin was visiting the Watchtower for his third time and had fallen asleep on Batman’s lap, it was understandable to say Bruce was surprised.

He’d been showing his son the security systems and, with no other chair available, had lifted Damian to sit on his knee at a distance from the rest of him, just in case Damian was uncomfortable.

However, perhaps from a weeks’ worth of restless nights or the deep timbre of Batman’s voice as he spoke, Damian had scooted closer to curl up on Bruce's chest and rested his head right over his father’s heartbeat. In less than a minute, his eyes were shut and he was fast asleep.

Bruce hadn’t noticed at first, continuing to explain the setup, and only realised his youngest was snoozing when Damian snuggled closer. He hesitantly removed his hand from the computers keyboard and brushed back his son’s hair, fondly smiling down at his sleeping face.

In moments like this, the boys constant tension faded and his expression was free from scowls and harsh lines. Like this, Bruce could pretend he'd never been exposed to the League, that the scars on his back were a false memory, and his son was okay.

Bruce shifted in his seat a little, bringing his cape up to tuck around Damian and decided to continue the rest of his camera-duty in silence.

[thebearer]

Omg Imagine meeting Lip at college and you are majoring in education, and you only know each other through math or something you need help with. You could just befriend him at first because he is a WHORE phase lol.

Idk your dribbles make me think that Lip and his wife have a strong friendship that blossomed to romance after Lip figures his shit out , and she got knocked up very early on lol.

📢ALSO LIP WILL BE SO MUCH WORSE THEN CARMY WHEN HE FINDS OUT YOU ARE PREGNANT BC KAREN TRAUMAAAAAAAAAAA 📢

"Hey," You stride next to Lip, looping the free strap of your backpack on. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Uh, kinda busy." Lip hummed, brows creasing lightly when he looked over at you.

"With your professor?" You gave him a pointed look, a devious smile spreading across your lips when he scoffed.

"Yeah. You got plans with yours?" Lip countered.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. I'm not that desperate for a grade." You quipped. "Speaking of, I was going to ask if you were free tonight, because I am going to fail this math test on Wednesday."

"Yeah? And what do you need me for?" Lip grinned, pushing the door open for you. It was so casual, friendly- it made your heart flutter.

"Stop." You shook your head at him. "C'mon, I really need your help. I do your critical theory homework all the time to impress your sexy professor lady, so you owe me."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll, uh, I'll stop by after my last. I gotta check with Youens, make sure I got my shit done. Then I can come help you study." Lip nodded casually.

"Ugh, thank you." You sighed, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "I swear, I'm not teaching math ever. I don't understand why I'm in the hardest math class for elementary ed."

"I mean, they probably want their teachers to be halfway smart." Lip shrugged. "Well, maybe not at the shit hole school I went to, but, uh, the good schools."

You snorted. "Yeah? Well, regardless, I'm not teaching math. I'll hold down the language arts, or the history, maybe the science if I have to. But math? Out of the question."

"Not even long division, huh?" Lip grinned.

"To be completely honest with you, I don't think I know how to do long division." You giggled. "I can barely do short division."

Many Years Later

"Lip!" You called, your voice carrying out to the garage, where your husband was "working on the car" (which really meant sneaking a cigarette).

"Yeah?" Lip hummed, walking into the house. Freddie sat at the kitchen table, a tiny frown on his features that mimicked yours perfectly. It made Lip's heart melt.

"Let Daddy see the problem, baby. He's better at math than me." You ran a hand over Freddie's curls sweetly, moving so Lip could take your spot.

Freddie had gotten Lip's freakish ability to do math. He was only six, but doing multiplication and long division already in his advanced groups.

"Lemme see, bud." Lip turned the paper towards him, scanning the problem. "Ah, ok, so you're not carrying the number here." Lip pointed to the problem, explaining it to your tiny son.

Your heart swelled, picking Jude up and hoisting him on your hip, trying to finish loading the dishwasher.

"Always thought your were jokin'." Lip hummed, gently squeezing your ass so you blushed, leaning to kiss the toddler on his head.

"About what?" You raised a brow.

"The long division thing." Lip laughed lightly. You gave him a confused look. "Y'know, when you said you wouldn't teach math and all that."

"Oh," You rolled your eyes playfully. "No, I wasn't. Why do you think I teach language arts now? Can't do all that numbers stuff like you."

Lip smirked, taking the dish from you and putting it in the rack. "How do you even remember that?" You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"That I said that." You giggle. "That was, like, a million years ago."

"Because," Lip shrugged. "I was in love with you."

"No, you weren't." You blushed, dodging Jude's grabbing hands towards your hair. "You had your Mrs. Robinson."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but, you were like my best friend." He said boyishly. Your heart melted. "Still are, but then, I just... I didn't want to fuck it up, ya know?"

"Watch it." You glared at him lightly, though it wasn't very convincing. "That's sweet. I was, like, very much so in love with you too, for the record."

"Yeah?" Lip grinned. You nodded, laughing when he kissed you sweetly over Jude's head. "Kinda had an idea."

"Really? What gave it away? The wedding or the kids?" You said sarcastically.

"No, it was the night that I had to pick you up from that dive bar downtown, and, uh, you were so drunk-"

"-Alright, Gallagher-"

"-And you kept telling me how much you loved me-"

You glared at him. "Jude, Daddy is being mean to me. Can you believe that?" You cooed, frowning exaggeratedly at your son. Jude just babbled, trying to grab at your hair again.

[leiawritesstories]

babe, it's cold out there

written for @throneofglassmicrofics November prompts "bluster" & "chill" (and probably a few others lmao)

some cute fluff to take my mind off election day yippee!!

word count: 851

warnings: none!

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin tugged the front door shut with a shiver, and it closed behind her with a thump that immediately raised a rapid patter of little footsteps from upstairs. Within two minutes, the kids had ambushed her, flinging their little arms around her legs and waist and clamoring over each other to tell Mama about their day.

"Your nose is pink, Mama!" Charlotte announced, pressing her finger to the tip of Aelin's nose as she snuggled into her mother's arms.

"It's awfully windy outside, honey," Aelin chuckled, kissing her six-year-old daughter's head.

Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Daddy had to rake the leaves out of the driveway before you got home!"

"We jumped in the piles!" Bran added, beaming. He was seven, and anything that allowed him to make a mess all over the yard was his favorite activity. "I jumped soooo much!"

"I bet you did, B." Aelin hugged her older son, who wrinkled his nose and squirmed away before she could plop a kiss on his head too.

Lana, the oldest at nine and a half, scoffed under her breath as Aelin let Charlotte down. "And you got leaves in your underwear too."

"Did not!" Bran shrieked, indignant.

"Did too!" Lana stuck her tongue out at him. "Dad said it looked like you peed your pants."

"Shut up, La-La!" Outraged, Bran lunged at his big sister, who dodged and hid behind her mother.

Aelin caught him before he could start throwing fists. "Bran, buddy, you know that's not gonna get you anywhere, and you probably don't want Lana to hit you back."

"She's being mean, Mama," he complained, folding his arms across his chest, turquoise eyes narrowed in indignation.

"Did you have fun jumping in the leaves?"

"Yeah."

"Then don't let what Lana says bother you, okay?"

He huffed a childish sigh, the anger seeping from his small body. "Okay." His eyes brightened. "I got Declan to jump with me!"

"Did you, now?" Laughter sparkled in Aelin's eyes.

Lana snickered. "Dec wanted to do a belly flop, and we watched him to make sure he didn't get hurt."

"Gave me a damn heart attack." Rowan's voice interrupted Aelin's moment with her kids, and she turned to find her husband leaning against the entryway wall with a twin on each hip and a half smirk on his face.

"Don't be dramatic, Dad," Lana sighed, so much like her mother that it made Aelin laugh. "We're very responsible."

"That's my girl." Aelin wrapped her oldest in a hug, affectionately ruffling her blonde curls.

Lana peered at Aelin's face. "Lottie is right, Mom. Your nose is pink."

Aelin unwound the scarf that was looped around her neck. "Well, I had to be outside, and like you all know, it's pretty windy." She knelt down and opened her arms, and both of the twins came sprinting over, burying her in a bundle of three-year-old limbs and excitement. "Hi, little loves. What did you do at preschool today?"

"I make painting, Mama!" Rielle squealed right into Aelin's ear.

Aelin blinked, hiding her wince, and guided her youngest back a step. "I'm sure it's beautiful, sweetheart, but do you remember how we don't yell in people's ears?"

Rielle nodded. "I get my picture!" She ran out into the kitchen, and Aelin shook her head with a laugh as she turned to Declan, the older of the twins by eight whole minutes. "I heard you and Bran jumped in a big leaf pile."

His little face lit up. "I jump in leaves, Mama!" He spread his arms wide and flopped into her lap. "See?"

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!" He beamed up at her before running back over to Rowan and demanding for Dada to pick him up.

Rowan chuckled and hoisted the little boy up into his arms. "How about we give Mama a little break, hmm? I'm sure she wants to warm her chilly self up." He shot her a wink.

She shrugged out of her jacket and flicked her scarf at him. "Babe, it's cold out there. It's perfect time for..." She paused, flashing her husband a smirk. "Hot cocoa."

"Yay!" all of the kids yelped, immediately bursting into pleas for the colored marshmallows and bickering over who got to have the Uncle Dorian mug. Dorian had prank-gifted Aelin and Rowan a mug that was 3-D printed in a cartoonish shape of his face, and for some inexplicable reason, her kids were obsessed with it.

"I'm beginning to feel outnumbered," Rowan said under his breath as he set Declan down and went over to Aelin, slipping his arms around her waist. "Who's going to tell the hooligans that they still have to eat all of their dinner even though they get hot cocoa before dinnertime?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can still put on your Stern Daddy face if you have to." She winked wickedly at him, muffling her giggle as his face went scarlet.

"You're a naughty, naughty woman," he mumbled, hiding his blush in her hair.

She just grinned and rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him. "You love it."

"Damn right, I do."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@mysterylilycheeta

[altocat]

GGRRRR SEPH GETTING SHOWERED IN LOVE AND AFFECTION AND TURNING INTO A BLUSHING SHY SOFTLY SMILING MESS

Sephiroth not knowing how to process so much love at once, as he's never received it before. His first instinct is to run or fight, only just eventually figuring out that this is nice and that he is loved and safe and this isn't one of Hojo's experiments--it's real.

Sephiroth curling up, purring happily, warm and content and at rest as he is furiously petted and kissed and showered with affection. He looks genuinely off-guard for a change, blissed out, refusing to budge because it feels so good to actually be praised in a way that feels comforting and validating without extra strings attached. He could get used to this. And OFTEN. This is everything he's ever wanted. This is HOME.

[ange1sang]

sweetface, angelface

2.2k words

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic fluff, sibling love, gallavich, fiona and ian + fiona and mickey, past regrets, mild hurt/comfort but mostly just sweet

Ian and Mickey's West Side apartment is silent when Fiona lets herself in with the spare key she borrowed from Lip. The quiet is thick in a way that it never was back in the Gallagher house - quiet always meant something terrible had happened, and rarely lasted more than a minute or two in their neighbourhood - and Fiona has to pause to take it in with a deep breath.

Lip had warned her that her visit was poorly timed. Ian had been climbing up the mental steps towards another high which had resulted in a quick and easy adjustment of his medication, and while Ian was resilient and experienced after so many years of learning the ins and outs of being bipolar, it had still left him sleepy and distant as his brain got used to the change in chemicals. He'd been off work for half a week - a long time for someone finding their footing in the real world - and Mickey had taken the past couple of days off to take care of his husband, something that had taken Fiona back to Ian's first depressive episode as soon as Lip had told her. Mickey's determination to take care of Ian, his hardheaded love for her little brother, and the fear in his eyes as he rambled about the sudden shift in Ian's behaviour.

She'd been less than supportive back then, knowing that Ian needed real treatment more than he needed love in that moment, but hearing now how Mickey's determination has persisted for years longer than they'd ever expected had made her heart ache.

Ian had always been her baby. Since that first night Frank left her and her only siblings at the time out on the street and she'd carried a feverish Ian and teary Lip to the clinic he'd been her baby. Lip was the second oldest, a role that came with signifcantly less responsibility but still enough of it for him to be her rock through those first few years of playing house all by herself. But for the years before Debbie was born Ian had been the youngest, the one who needed the most care, and even after their other siblings were born and Ian became Lip's best friend instead of just his little brother, the need to take care of him had lingered for Fiona.

It didn't help that Ian was so sweet and kind, always wearing his heart on his sleeve in a way that Fiona and Lip never did. He was vulnerable, and even when he kept his aches and pains to himself it was obvious when he was hurt. She wanted, always had wanted, to shelter him from as much as she could, even when she had too much on her plate to know his whereabouts or the names of kids bothering him at school.

Despite the desire to keep him safe, Fiona knew that he had slipped through the cracks more often than his siblings had. Maybe it was the sweet smile he gave her when she asked if he was alright, maybe it was the resilience that shone through when he started navigating his sexuality by himself, maybe it was his dreams of the army and the tough guy exterior he put on whenever he talked about West Point. Whatever the reason, he'd been left behind when she fussed over Lip being in school, when Debbie got pregnant, when Carl came back from juvie. He was the apple of her eye, but he was so meek sometimes that it was easy to focus on the rest of the kids and what they needed from her.

She knows now that she could've done more. That she should've been glad Ian was with Mickey instead of some guy who was old enough to be his father, who there'd been far too many of without any of them stopping to question what the hell those men were doing with their brother. She should have fought to bring him home when he ran off to the army the same way she fought to bring Lip home after he dropped out, and she should've done more than turn a blind eye when he started working at clubs and came home skinny, high out of his mind with eyeliner still smeared around his lashline. She should've carried him to safety, the same way she did that night when it was just the three of them alone in the world for the first time. There was no way she could have done a perfect job at raising all five of the kids - she knows that too - but her heart aches when she thinks of the times Ian slipped through all of their fingers without a safety net to catch him.

She owes Ian, forever her little brother and the only sibling she calls 'sweetface', for not trying to understand him better. For not trying harder to love the only boyfriend who had been there through the first highs and lows without ever turning his back on him. Ian did okay even without those things, she can see as much as she looks around the little apartment. The family photos in frames on the TV stand, the taupe couch with only one stain, the coffeetable with a half-full ashtray she recognises from their old home. He did okay because, despite being a softer kid than any of them had the courage to be, he was strong. She smiles when she spots a wedding picture hung above the TV, Ian and Mickey holding each other's faces like the rest of the world had fallen away at that moment. She wishes she'd been there, will likely wish as much for the rest of her life, but she's here now and has to hope that's enough.

The clattering of dishes pulls her out of her thoughts. She can hear coffee being put to brew, the soft shuffle of socked feet coming from the kitchen. She blinks back the dull ache in her chest and makes her way to the source of the noise, smiling when she sees Mickey leaning against the counter, an unlit cigarette between his lips as he puts two Pop-Tarts in the toaster. He startles at her presence but smiles as soon as he sees her.

"Hey Fi," he greets, setting aside his cigarette and allowing her to hug him hello without a struggle, which is a win for Fiona even if he doesn't really return the touch. He's softer in their new environment she realises, more relaxed than he ever was when he was in the same neighbourhood as his family. She pulls back and gives his arm a squeeze, smiling warmly at the sight of the wedding ring on his finger.

"Hi angelface," she says. Mickey immediately turns to the doorway, looking for something before he freezes and turns his attention back to Fiona, brows drawn tight together as he looks her up and down.

"Thought you were talking to Ian," he mumbles, pulling away from her touch as though to get a better look at her. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

Fiona can't help but laugh, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs at their kitchen table.

"Ian's always been sweetface," she says, watching how Mickey's expression softens as she says that. "I was thinkin' the whole way over that you ought to have a nickname too."

"Y'know, I was doin' fine without one," Mickey grumbles, but the furrow between his brows has disappeared, a half-amused smirk on his lips.

"Count yourself lucky you didn't get one the day he started lookin' at you like you hung the moon and fucking stars," she jokes, which makes him snicker. She thinks back to the days Ian and Mickey were just teenagers wrapped around each other's little fingers, smiling little smiles that they only shared with each other and falling asleep side by side in whatever cramped space was available to them, be it Ian's childhood bed or the worn and torn Gallagher couch. Mickey had been the farthest thing from an angel at the time and he's still pretty far off, but if she could go back she'd have started calling him angelface the second he proved he was in it for the long haul. She takes a deep breath and perches on the edge of the table. "How's he been?"

"Good," Mickey says quickly, not dismissively but confidently, his blue eyes fond as he glances towards the doorway again. "Sleepin' a lot but he's eating and keeping up a routine and all that shit. He"– Mickey hesitates here, eyes darting back and forth between Fiona's face and the floor as a flush climbs his cheeks. –"works real fuckin' hard, y'know? He doesn't want anyone to worry, not like when we were kids. He knows his shit and he fuckin'... He works hard."

Fiona smiles. She does know. Ian's never been half-hearted in anything he cares about, and hearing that he cares about taking care of himself soothes some of the worry that's always going to nag at her, wondering if he's got his head above water.

"Helps that he's got you," she says, giving Mickey some of the long overdue credit she never let him have before. Mickey rolls his eyes and his fingers twitch like he's going to flip her off but ultimately he just pulls out three mugs to pour coffee into. She smiles, recalling how he was with Mandy, bickering and cussing back and forth but always reserving a special kind of sweetness for each other that they didn't share with anyone else in their family. Fiona knows better than anyone that siblings can't be replaced, but him offering her a little of the friendliness he used to reserve for his little sister makes her happy.

"Fi."

Ian's voice, slow and rough with sleep, breaks the comfortable silence in the kitchen. Fiona jumps up and launches herself at her little brother in a tight hug, smiling into his shoulder when he wraps his arms around her.

"I didn't know you were coming over," he mumbles, tucking his face down into her shoulder the same way he used to do back when they were the same height. He has to bend his neck down to do it now, making himself smaller as she brings a hand up to run her fingers through his curls.

"Lip called after you went to sleep, didn't wanna wake you," Mickey explains, voice soft.

Fiona grins as she pulls away from him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Hey, sweetface," she murmurs, pinching his cheek and pulling a whine from Ian. "Forgot how tall you are."

"You were gone for too long," he replies, but there's no hard feelings in his voice. She still thinks about the day she left, visiting him in prison and squeezing his hands tight so she wouldn't forget the warmth of his palms once she let go. His smile, supportive and sad and excited all at once had reflected all of her own feelings and tied her stomach in knots but also grounded her, reminding her that her family would always be here for her to come home to. She kisses his cheek again even though this too makes him whine before finally letting him go.

"Now that you got your own place I'll visit more often," she reassures him. Through the bleary, sleepy expression on his face Ian smiles.

"You better," he jokes, before stepping over to kiss Mickey's cheek. She watches them exchange gentle 'good morning's, Mickey's hand trailing up and down Ian's spine in a way that's so casual, so clearly the norm for them, that she has to look away before she gets teary-eyed.

They sit around the kitchen table, coffee mugs and Pop-Tarts and pills and cigarettes all carefully laid out in front of them. Seeing them go about their lives with her there, mumbling about bills and what they dreamt last night and whether or not the movie they've been wanting to watch will be easy to pirate, is the best gift she's ever received. Lip has his own family, Carl has a great job, Debbie is a better mother than Monica ever dreamed of being, Liam is cleverer than any of them and Ian is doing well. Better than well, even after everything he's been through, after being let down in ways Fiona will never be able to forget. They all did good with what they were given, but it's Ian's life - cozy and safe and domestic - that makes her happiest.

"You're never gonna guess what she fuckin' called me, man," Mickey says suddenly, drawing Fiona's attention back to the present. Ian raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to his big sister, already smiling before she says anything.

"You're sweetface, only makes sense if he's angelface," she defends the sappy nickname, giggling when Ian laughs out loud. Mickey is only slightly less amused, blushing when Ian reaches out to hold his hand.

"Makes sense to me, Mick," he says, which has his husband rolling his eyes.

"Course you'd side with her, fuckin' payback for me siding with Debbie one time, huh?" he mutters, which brings forth another round of teasing from Ian. Fiona listens to them and makes a mental note to ask about Mickey and Debbie later. For now she just steeps in the peace of their apartment, of the life they've carved out for themselves, and breathes a sigh of relief.

[morastfrck]

he’s melting

[yallthemwitches]

“Though,” he hums, “Now that we are on the subject, what did you ask for for Christmas?” It’s clear he means it to be playful—to get a cheeky remark out of her, but her heart is beating so hard she worries he can feel it.  “More confidence.” He laughs, a sharp, happy sound that she has begun to yearn for. The heat of his encroaching proximity emanates off of him in waves and mixed with the smell of him, it lulls her away like a trance. Meanwhile, Marlene’s words from earlier seep through the walls like a gelatinous ooze: better get in quick— “Oh?” he tilts his head and a bit of hair falls into his glasses, “Care to share what for?” “For—“ but she cuts herself off, hands lurching off the edge of the desk and into the cords of his sweater, slanting her mouth against his.

(Read on AO3 or under cut!)

“You came.”

It’s not the voice she expects to hear but Peter Pettigrew’s, shuffled off in the corner of the curling front porch with a fag hanging from his lips.

“I was invited, wasn’t I?”

She ignores the small smile wrapping around the filter, a twinkle in his eye that all of the boys in James’ little crew have adopted like they’ve inherited it from each other.

“Don’t be like that, Evans. I’m just saying it’s nice to see you. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before.”

He’s right, he hasn’t because she hasn’t, and she doesn’t like the way his tone insinuates that maybe she would have a reason to give Potter house visits.

Her eyes lower into speculative slits and the hair on Peter's neck starts to bristle.   

“He’s your mate, that’s all,” he stammers, “Well, thought so anyway. He told me he’s been writing to you...”

“Did he?” Her voice sounds more lethal than she had intended.  With a gulp, Peter’s eyes become more watery than normal. 

“I mean—yeah. I mean–that’s what mate’s do right? Write to each other? Wait, fuck—is it queer to write to my mates?”

“Very.”

She strides past, letting him parse out for himself if she was being sarcastic or not. The ornate knocker is a metal cast of a hand which, when Lily reaches out to touch it, places a static finger upwards before ringing three solid melodic raps into the cold air. 

She’s never seen a home like this. She knew James came from money—before holiday, she overheard Amelia and Lilas twittering with their invitations at the lunch table about how far his family’s new money had gone, but she didn’t really know what to expect. 

The door opened on its own, leading to an entrance room that looked more cozy than the imposing exterior of the manor let on. A staircase that cut through the middle of the room was flanked with exotic plants, bar carts filled with bubbling, multi-color liquids and books wedged in the spaces between. A large painting of a woman, practically nude besides a gossamer sheet, holds up a sizzling vial of green liquid and looks down at her with a wink, gesturing her eyes up the staircase where Lily can hear music wafting. 

Following the woman’s gaze, she mounts the steps, stopping every so often to read out the titles of nearby books: Satanic Witchcraft: Muggle Histeria and Women’s Liberation…The Cosmic Antidote: a Potioneer’s Encyclopedia…The Final Form: A Meditation on Animagus.

“Well, can’t say I saw this one coming.”

Lily tears her eyes away from the books. At the top of the staircase, Sirius leans against the bannister, looking as carelessly handsome as ever despite wearing a rather frumpy looking Christmas jumper with a dog on it. 

“Does an actual Potter live here or am I still working my way through the welcome committee?” 

Sirius just smiles back, swirling the tumbler in his hand so the liquid forms a vortex at the bottom of the glass.

“Sorry to disappoint. I'm on door duty since they are all otherwise indisposed. Poor Prongs has been getting his cheeks pinched all evening—and I don’t necessarily mean his face.”

It makes Lily crack a smile, the image of James trying and failing to use his lithe quidditch reflexes to ward off straying hands of old biddies. 

“I gotta be honest with you Evans, when I saw Mary show up without you we figured you weren’t coming.”

Thank God, Mary’s here. Just the thought of an ally in this otherwise alien environment makes Lily’s shoulders drop. 

“Well sorry to disappoint—-though I haven’t quite made it to the party yet so there’s still time for me to leave…”

Sirius throws his head back in a laugh, his earring tinkling against itself. 

“No way, Evans. Now that you’re here the night might actually be interesting.”

* * * * *

The sitting room (if you can call it that) is packed with people. Lily recognizes some as students from school, clumping themselves in groups around the outskirts of the space while others who are much older command the room as though their own, floating from person to person under an enchanted ceiling that rains down fluffy tufts of snow and disappears before it can melt.

It’s overwhelming and yet It doesn’t take much to find him–these days her eyes like magnets towards the unruly head of black hair and perpetually easygoing gaze. James stands at the center of the fray, looking disdainful as an older witch with smoky eyes shoves her hands through his hair, trying to tame the tangle and laughing to another woman when her attempt only makes the dishevelment worse. When his eyes flick over to where her and Sirius stand, she watches them grow in real time.

It’s all for show, you know. He had written in his last letter. I could be the Minister of Magic and I’d still act like a bloody child sometimes. 

Cheeks turning ruddy, he raises his hand from his side and gives a small wave from the middle of his chest, mouthing a timid hi . At the time she hadn’t understood what he had meant in his letter, but watching him stand there uncharacteristically awkward while his mother doted on him it all started to make sense. 

It did something awful to her heart rate. 

She mouths it back, mirroring his tiny wave in an attempt to seem playful and a grin breaks out on his face as vibrant as the crackling fireplace behind him. 

“ Soo..” Sirius sings beside her and she realizes she's been holding eye contact with James and smiling for god knows how long while the world turned without them. 

“A drink? Or do you prefer snogging blokes in front of their parents cold turkey?”

“Fuck off, Black,” she scoffs, unable to hide a flush on her cheeks from being caught. 

It shouldn’t affect her as much as it does, really. They are friends— a fact that James has had no problem repeating to anyone who will listen—-and it has been nice really: studying together deep in the stacks, getting distracted by the contagion of his laugh when she reaches across his space to write cheeky comments on the margins of his homework. And (as much as she would deny it) his letters over the holiday have been a saving grace: his loping elegant script making her heart swoop the second the owl lands on her window-sill holding pages of doodles and rambling banter to make up for the silence that comes with his absence. 

But those were normal feelings to have towards friends, right?

“Wait—fuck someone’s at the door,” Sirius says, expression alert though Lily hadn’t heard anything. “Drinks are over there,” he gestures to a far corner where many people are congregating.“Mary’s over there,” pointing to a group of girls talking near a wide christmas tree, “And, well, I think you already know where James is.” 

He flashes her a sly smile which she ignores and disappears back the way they came, leaving her to fend for herself. 

She wades through the clusters of people, finding a large elaborate bar in which the drinks make themselves as guests call out their order. She asks for a gin and tonic then wanders towards the group of girls, happy to find some semblance of familiarity. Mary, Emmeline, Marlene, and Sofia form a semi-circle, looking into the vast crowd while taking turns to lean in and giggle out observations. As Lily walks up, Mary pulls her into a one armed hug, clinking their glasses with a wink.

“Everyone said you weren’t gonna show,” Mary says, giving her a smug smile. “Curiosity got the best of you like the rest of us then?”

“Yeah, something like that—“ Lily mutters, taking a long sip of her drink. Across the room, James continues to be heralded from stately couple to stately couple, eyes darting around for some sort of saviour that never seems to come.

“Could really get used to this,” Emmeline pipes up with a giggle, “fit and filthy rich? If only Potter would catch my drift once in a while, I could be the next lady of the house.” 

A sharp stab hits Lily right in the stomach and she holds back the urge to spit out a less than savory comment about Emmeline’s lack of class.

“You could always go for Black—he’s available,” teases Marlene.“ Besides, we all know Potter’s been making shag eyes at Sofia for the better half of the term.”

Lily can’t help but rear her head back in incredulity. In all four classes she shares with James and Sofia she has never once noticed him making anything remotely resembling ‘shag eyes’ in her direction, but by the way Sofia gives a cheeky shrug and purses her lips perhaps she had missed something vital.

“We’ve been talking,” Sofia says simply, giving a sly look.

Talking? Talking like writing over holiday? Lily feels heat rise to her forehead, becoming a bit woozy. It wouldn’t be insane if James was writing to other girls besides her—-they were friends after all, but something inside her ached. She had wanted, had hoped that maybe his letters to her were special. Special in what way? He probably equates your letters to the likes of Peter or Remus at this point…

“Well,” Marlene clicks her tongue, raising her eyebrow suggestively, “Better get in quick—ever since Brown confirmed he has more talent with his tongue then just talking, there’s been a decent queue of girls waiting to—-“

“Anyone know where the loo is?” Lily cut in. Her stomach had started to turn, the slow burn in her chest only getting worse the longer she stood there. 

Without guidance, she wanders away, heading towards a lit hallway that looks promising off the side of the room. On her way, she sees no sign of Sirius or Peter, only giving one last glance to James who is still busy entertaining his parents’ guests before slipping out of sight. 

She would have thought she had gone the wrong way if not for the fact that the hall was brightly decorated with charmed icicles that glowed a soft blue and grew longer along the wall. Chandeliers like golden arms hold out candlesticks, leading her down past what felt like too many doors for a family of three to own on just a single floor. 

Timid, she jiggles the handles, peeking into unlocked rooms in hopes to find the bathroom. Nearing the end of the hall, she gives an ajar door a hopeful push. Inside is a lush bedroom with a large mahogany bed adorned with red and gold quilts. Muggle rock bands with static stares are flanked by zooming quidditch players who seem to be playing a match just amongst the collection of posters tacked together.

Looking behind to see if anyone is coming, she steps in, edging towards a large postal desk that looks like it should have been in some museum rather than a teenager's bedroom. Along the surface, books are splayed open, James’ unmistakably curled handwriting cramping the margins of some while others have bits of parchment sticking out as place holders. A quill sits on top of an opened parchment at the corner of the desk, a letter abandoned in mid script: 

Dear Lily,

I know I already wrote today, but, thick as I am, I forgot to ask (please don’t take the piss out of me for overworking the owls—mum overfeeds them so they need the exercise anyways).

I know I made a laugh of it when I gave you your invitation, but I really hope you come to the party. Knowing my parents, I’ll be swamped with old bats wanting to chide me on my ‘waste of a potions legacy’’ (their words) but you’re presence would make it all the more—-

“I think you might be a little lost, Miss Evans.”

Lily spins around, hitting her hip against the desk. James leans against the doorway, looking like he has been there for a while, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Sorry—just looking for the loo.” She can feel a flush crawling down her neck.

“Ah,” James steps in with his hands in his pockets, obviously amused. “And you found a room that looked remotely like mine and figured it was as good a toilet as any?”

Lily stammers, trying to come up with a response, but James cuts her off with a laugh, walking into the room.

“I’m just taking the piss, Evans. You enjoying the party? Haven’t been able to pull myself away from my mum’s friends the whole night—-Sirius and Peter are probably furious...”

His eyes drop to the desk. Seeing his note left open, he quickly rips it away, balling it up with a red tinge forming under his glasses.

“Uh, just got here actually,” Lily murmurs, not sure if she should admit to snooping around his room. “You have a—beautiful home.”

James snorts, leaning against the side of the desk. “A bit much I think.”

He runs a hand through his hair and Lily notices that he has a matching jumper to Sirius, though his has a reindeer on it with a pair of glasses that match his own.

“Nice jumper—you and Sirius knit them together?”

James looks down like he’s just noticing it, pulling at the ends so the reindeer’s face gets contorted with a stretch. 

“Yeah well– I got him a flying motorbike and he repays me with this ugly thing, the sod.” 

She can’t help but laugh, but not at the reason he expects. A flying motorbike—-he got his mate a flying motorbike. Lily could count on her hand the things she had received in her life that were as meaningful and complicated and perfect as what James had gotten for his friend. A whoosh of air soared through her chest, unraveling any of the painful knots that had formed from her chat with the girls. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m afraid I didn’t get you anything,” Lily says, somewhat sheepish. She had spent a good evening debating whether they were close enough to warrant gifts, but in the end was too cowardly. 

“No worries, Evans,” he turns to her, a slight blush forming. “Let's be honest, I wouldn’t have deserved it anyway.”

She can feel static in the air. Downstairs, the music changes: a slow ballad that probably has couples grabbing each other's hands and swaying close. She wonders if Sofia is looking for James, hoping to finally get her shot.

He leans in and she can smell the faint scent of spice mixed with earth–a scent she has come to know too well from their times spent shoulder to shoulder in the library.

“Though,” he hums, “now that we are on the subject, what did you ask for for Christmas?” It’s clear he means it to be playful—to get a cheeky remark out of her, but her heart is beating so hard she worries he can feel it. 

“Father Christmas isn’t real, did no one tell you.”

“C’mon Evans. Play along.” His eyes glint with mirth, the gold coming out in the flicker of the dim candlelight. 

“More confidence.”

He laughs, a sharp happy sound that she has begun to yearn for. The heat of his encroaching proximity emanates off of him in waves, and mixed with the smell of him, it lulls her away like a trance. Meanwhile, Marlene’s words from earlier seep through the walls like a gelatinous ooze: better get in quick—

“Oh?” he tilts his head and a bit of hair falls into his glasses, “Care to share what for?”

“For—“ but she cuts herself off, hands lurching off the edge of the desk and into the cords of his sweater, slanting her mouth against his. 

The kiss was so fleeting, it could have been a hallucination if not for the lingering softness of his lips and the instant flesh memory of his breath against her cheek. When she pulls away, his eyes look clouded and dark, a small oh escaping his lips.

JAMES!

The sound of beating footsteps echo down the hall and the door slams wide open. A huffing Peter keels over still holding the knob.

“Your parents need you. They are— oh fuck,” he stops mid sentence, finally clocking how close Lily and James are to one another. 

“Ah, fuck mate—uhm…your mum and dad are trying to do a speech or something…and Sirius is out smoking. Uh, Merlin, wow, this is awkward.”

If it weren’t for the fact that he had just stormed in on perhaps the most embarrassing moment of her life, Lily would have found Peter’s floundering funny, but James hadn’t even turned to his mate, eyes roaming around her face like two flying pixies. 

“A minute, Pete,” James calls, still with his back to him. 

Peter shifts his weight, looking more anxious by the second.

“Uh, your mum said now—”

“A minute, bloody hell.”

All the stabbing pain from earlier flies back into Lily’s chest. Instead of grabbing hold of her, pulling her close and maybe even ( merlin can you imagine) kissing her again, James continues to stand stock still, his features completely unreadable besides a confused, searching look in his eye. 

“I have to go, but don’t leave before we can talk again,” he says in a stern voice. For some reason it reminds her of being chastised like a child.

“Please Lily. I’ll be back. Just… enjoy the party and I’ll come find you.”

He turns on his heel, walking out the door without a second glance and leaves Lily to fall back against the desk. Her lips still vibrate with the warmth of his own.