‘Being pregnant with Lip’s (planned) baby would include…’
• Lip is terrified at first. Like full-on panicking. He’s pacing his house at 3 a.m. googling if it’s normal to feel like this while you’re asleep in his room. He’s convinced he’s going to fuck this up somehow, because that’s what Gallagher men do, right? But he never says it out loud. Instead, he just starts doing what he thinks he should quietly.
• He quits smoking cold turkey the day you tell him you’re finally pregnant; he doesn’t even complain, just tosses the pack and lighter into the trash like it’s nothing. When you ask why, he shrugs and mutters, “Kid doesn’t need that shit in their lungs,” and goes back to making lunch.
• He becomes unusually domesticated. He learns how to cook actual meals (not just ramen or grilled cheese). He’s burning eggs at first, cursing under his breath, but he gets better. He makes you oatmeal with cinnamon because he read online it helps with nausea. He himself hates oatmeal; he still makes it every morning for you.
• Back rubs become a nightly ritual, much to your pleasure. Every night you can be found sprawled on the couch, head dangling off his lap as he’s massaging your shoulders while watching some car documentary on his cracked TV. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it half the time, just absentmindedly working the tension out of your shoulders while muttering about structural integrity or some shit.
• He talks to the bump when he thinks you’re asleep. Soft, awkward little monologues. “Hey, kid. Don’t give your mom too much shit in there, alright? She’s already dealing with me.” Sometimes he presses his forehead to your stomach and just breathes, like he’s trying to communicate with an alien.
• He’s overprotective in the most Lip way. gruff and sarcastic, but dead serious. Some dude at the Alibi looks at you too long? Lip’s in his face in seconds. You try to walk home alone after dark? He’s already outside waiting, hands in his pockets, pretending he “just felt like a walk.”
• Sex drive is THROUGH the roof. He’s obsessed with how you look pregnant— soft curves, full breasts, the way you glow even when you’re complaining about heartburn and diarrhoea. He worships every inch of you, slow and carefully, but hungry. Afterward, he pulls you against his chest, hand splayed protectively over your belly, whispering, “You’re so so perfect.”
• When the baby is finally here, Lip cries HARD. Not loud or dramatic— he doesn’t want to distract the nurses from you —just silent tears rolling down his cheeks while he holds the tiny, squirming creature like it’s made of glass. He looks at you, eyes red, and chokes out, “Fuck. You made a whole person.”
• He’s terrified of breaking the baby for the first week and so holds them like they’re going to explode. You have to show him how to support the head, and how to change a diaper without getting pissed on. Once he gets the hang of it though, he’s a PRO. Changes diapers one-handed while chatting with Brad on the phone.
• Sleep deprivation hits him hard, but he never complains. You wake up at 3 a.m. to find him walking the living room in circles, baby tucked against his chest, murmuring physics theorems like lullabies because “the vibrations might help him calm down.” It’s ridiculous. It works
• He’s the “don’t talk to my kid like that” kind of dad. Family comes over? He’s hovering. Someone tries to hold the baby too long? He’s casually taking them back with a tight smile. He trusts you completely, but everyone else gets side-eyed the whole time
• He starts working double shifts at the shop so you can stay home longer, but he’s home EVERY night for bath time. He sings terrible off-key lullabies (mixed with random rap verses when he runs out) and the baby giggles in delight while splashing their father.
• He talks to the baby like they’re already a person. “Alright, little man, today we’re gonna learn why internal combustion engines are superior to electric, okay?” You catch him reading engineering textbooks out loud like they’re fairytales while the baby nurses or sleeps on his chest.
• He’s softer than he’s ever been. The sharp edges he used to carry around like armor melt when he’s holding his kid. He’ll be cursing out some asshole on the phone one second, then look down at the baby and immediately drop his voice to a whisper, kissing their tiny forehead.
• Late at night, when the baby’s finally asleep between you, he pulls you close, hand resting on your stomach again like he can’t believe it’s flat now. He presses his lips to your temple and murmurs, “You gave me this. You gave me everything.”
• He’s still Lip, of course — sarcastic, stubborn, and occasionally self-destructive— but the second that baby cries he’s moving before you even register it. He’s not perfect: he’s still learning. But he’s trying— really trying, and every day he looks at you and the kid like he can’t believe he got this lucky.
• When baby says “Dada” for the first time Lip freezes, then laughs and pulls you into his arms so tight you can barely breathe.
𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: happy birthday! a social media AU where the Gallagher family, friends, and Lip himself document your life together in likes, captions, and comments for your birthday!
𝔄/𝕹: expect shameless roasts, chaotic comments, messy domesticity, and Lip being soft in the most ridiculous ways. enjoy ✮⋆˙
masterlist
⋆⭒*: REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ⋆⭒˚.⋆
302 likes
y/n: in a world full of chaos, i picked you. cheers to another year of surviving the south side 🥂
21 comments
lipgallagher: who tf let you post my face 😒. ↳ y/n: you’re lucky i didn’t use the one where ur passed out drooling. ↳ lipgallagher: delete this rn.
deb_gal: “surviving the south side” is so dramatic you live like 3 blocks from a laundromat. ↳ y/n: come spend a night in our house and say that again.
1an: lmao the skirt pic looks like an indie band cover ↳ lipgallagher: “the denim disasters.”
carlsk9unit): you picked HIM??? bold choice. ↳ y/n: i like my men stressed and chain smoking.
fi.gallagher: Happy birthday, sweetheart! So glad you two found each other. ↳ y/n: love you fi 🥹
mick.milk: can’t believe you soft launched his kneecaps before his face ↳ lipgallagher: block then.
809 likes
lipgallagher: happy birthday to the only reason i even pretend to give a shit. don’t drop your rings in the sand again. love you, doll.
47 comments
y/n: thanks for calling me out publicly for losing one ring 🙄 ↳ lipgallagher: you cried like the world ended. ↳ Reader: it was vintage. ↳ lipgallagher: from claire’s.
deb_gal: “pretend to give a shit” is the most romantic thing i’ve ever read. ↳ lipgallagher: hallmark card energy.
1an: these pictures make us look like we just survived a house fire ↳ lipgallagher: beach trips with you feel like that tbh.
carlsk9unit: whose bottles tho? ↳ lipgallagher: not yours. stay in school.
fi.gallagher: Happy birthday sweetheart ❤️ thank you for putting up with him. ↳ y/n: fiona you get me! wouldn’t have it any other way
kevinsballs: Damnnn i can smell that beach photo through the screen 😂 ↳ vicafisher: it smells like YOUR bar. hush. let them have fun.
mick.milk: “love you, doll” ??? who’s he tryna impress? im gonna vomit ↳ lipgallagher: keep scrolling, milkovich.
frankthelegend: Never dropped a ring in the sand cuz i never had one. Think about that, children. ↳ lipgallagher: shut the fuck up, frank.
➪the one where you and lip are broken up (but not for long).
Warnings: swearing, shameless themes, mentions of alcohol, drinking, fake ass friends, angst, fluff, kissing (oh no), drunk reader, pet names.
Word Count: 3.4k
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
The pounding on the door never went away, despite Lip ignoring it for about five minutes now. If he didn’t do something about it soon, everyone in the house would wake up and he’d have a bigger problem to deal with.
He sits up from his lying position and stands up from the couch, making his way towards the front door with an irritated look on his face. Swinging the door open, he was met with the annoyed faces of your friends, Daneel and Marissa. “Fucking finally,” Marissa muttered and it was then when Lip noticed your slouched form. Your arms were draped over your friends’ shoulders as you struggled to stand up properly. “Ever heard of opening a door?”
“I just did,” he replied and narrowed his eyes at the way they were both doing a piss poor job at keeping you upright. “What’s wrong with her?” He tried to hide his concern, but there was no denying that he was more than a bit worried at the state you were currently in.
“She can’t handle alcohol to save her life,” Daneel grunted as she pushed your arm off her. “That’s what’s wrong with her.”
Lip glared at her as he instinctively reached out to grab your wrist before you were sent stumbling back. “How much has she had to drink?”
“Not a fucking clue,” Marissa laughed as she pushed you into the arms of your ex-boyfriend. “I lost count after her third beer.”
“Fuck,” he muttered as he held your nearly limp body against his chest with one hand. The other one reached up to brush away the messy strands of hair from your face, and his gaze softened at the sad expression you wore as you refused to meet his eyes. He looked back over at your friends and furrowed his brows when he saw that they were halfway down the stairs. “Hey, where the hell are you two going?”
“Back to the bar,” Daneel called back. “We just wanted to make sure Boozie over here got home safely.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t her house,” he pointed out, but his words didn’t seem to affect the two girls.
“Right, you guys broke up, didn’t you?” Marissa laughed quietly and gave Daneel a shrug. “Maybe that’s why she was so depressed tonight.”
They both laughed at that before waving at Lip and walking down the street.
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered as he wrapped your arm around his shoulder and guided you inside. He sat you down on the couch where he previously was, before heading back towards the door and peeking out at the retreating forms of your friends. He scoffed and flipped them off before shutting the door loudly. He usually didn’t bother with locking it when it was just him and his family there, but since you were only a few feet away from him and drunk, he found himself twisting the lock.
Back in the living room, Lip finds your shivering form still on the couch. He noticed the way your arms were wrapped around yourself in an attempt to warm yourself up, so he took it upon himself to grab a blanket from off a pile of magazines that was near the window.
He draped it across your shoulders and watched as you gave him a drunken, grateful smile, before he sat down next to you. He tried not to think about the last time he was on the couch with you, back when the two of you broke up and you left the house in tears. It was hard to think that the time before that was when he had the house to himself for once and fucked you into the very cushions you were sitting on.
Lip had to hold back a groan at the memory of it. You were drunk and very clearly upset, and he needed to be there for you, despite it being just over a week and a half since you broke up.
“Thanks,” you murmur softly as you bury yourself in the blanket. As you inhaled the scent that was the Gallagher’s, your brows furrowed and your eyes closed a bit more. “Wait, why am I here?”
Lip shook his head and leaned back on the couch, his elbow pressing into the armrest as he huffed, “Because your so called friends are fucking idiots,” he muttered and turned his head to look at you. “I’ve told you that before, I don’t know why you hang out with them.”
You refuse to meet his eyes as you give him a pathetic shrug. “Because they’re my friends,” you offer weakly and don’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes.
“Friends don’t pull the kind of shit that they just did,” he mumbled and desperately wanted to light a cigarette right now, but he didn’t want to leave you unattended. “Fuck, I mean…we’re fucking friends, and I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t leave you.”
Lip wasn’t actually sure where he stood with you. You were exes, sure, but friends? He had no clue if you were even friends at this point, but the whole relationship had originally started out as a friendship, so it wasn’t like you two couldn’t go back to that, no matter how much he hated the thought of just being your friend.
“I was ruining their night,” you weakly tried defending your friends while also calling yourself out.
Lip scoffed. “They told you that?”
You shake your head and inch closer to him, your body beginning to feel weak with fatigue. “They didn’t have to,” you mumbled. “I could tell I was being a wallflower, and they shouldn’t have to babysit me all night long just because I can’t get my shit together.”
He shook his head at your words. You were always one to defend the fucking idiots in your life, himself included whenever you stuck your neck out for him when you were still together. He tried to ignore the way you leaned even closer to him and was barely able to keep yourself upright. “They shouldn’t have invited you out in the first place when they knew you weren’t in the right state of mind to drink as much as you did,” he said, before quickly adding. “Which was fucking dumb, by the way. What were you thinking? You can barely handle one beer, let alone three.”
You look down at his lap, embarrassment washing over you at his tone. You felt like he was your parent and lecturing you about sticking to your limit when out at the bar, but he really wasn’t much better. “I was thinking about you,” you mutter and see his head turn to face you out of the corner of your eye. “I’m always thinking about you, and for one night, just one fucking night, I wanted to forget. I want to forget you.”
Lip felt his heart deflate a bit at that, but he knew you were completely wasted, and he held onto that fact. There was no way you meant that, right? You had been together for nearly two years before calling it quits, and he’d hate to think he hurt you so much that you were beginning to regret getting with him in the first place.
He wasn’t able to wallow in self pity for much longer, as you continued before he could even think about how to respond to that, “I still want you, still love you and I wish I never met you,”
Your words caught him off guard, and he really wanted that cigarette now.
He looked over at you and felt his shoulders tense up at the sad expression you wore. You weren’t making any sense, and he could only hope you would feel up to talk to him about this in the morning, when you were sober.
For a minute, Lip let himself go back to when you were both so happy and together. He found himself getting lost in how it felt to be so close to you again, and how much he missed being around you, how much he missed you. “You should get some sleep, baby,” the name slipped past his lips before he could even stop himself, so used to calling you that, but you didn’t seem to mind as you just nodded. “You’re going to feel fucked up tomorrow.”
You closed your eyes and leaned towards him. He was about to stand up so you could lay down properly on the couch, but stopped when you blindly reached out to push him back down. When he is sitting down again, you wrap the blanket further around you before laying your head down on his thigh and using it as a pillow.
Lip couldn’t move now even if he wanted to, and he really didn’t, as you fell asleep almost instantly. He sighed as he ran his fingers through your hair and glanced at the clock. The time read 2:35 in the morning, and he wondered just how much of this you would remember when you woke up in a few hours.
-
He woke up the next morning when Fiona had made her way down the stairs, her being the first of many Gallagher’s to wake up. He lifted his head up from where it had tilted back against the top of the couch sometime last night when he fell asleep, and groaned quietly at the stiff muscles in his neck.
As his older sister passed by the door frame, she stopped and backtracked when she caught sight of you with your head still resting on his thigh, and your arm draped over his knee. She furrowed her brows as she mouthed, “Are you back together?”
Lip shook his head and watched the glimmer of hope fade from her face as the sound of Ian bounding down the stairs was heard throughout the house. “Oh, shit,” he said in surprise when he, too, saw you on the couch. “Are you guys back together?”
Fiona answered for her brother, “No, they’re not,”
Ian looked confused as he asked, “Then why is she sleeping on you?”
“Her fuckhead friends dropped her off here last night,” Lip said and looked down at you, the movement making his neck ache but he didn’t mind it as he caught sight of the way your lashes fluttered against your cheek. “Apparently she ruined their fun by drinking too much.”
Fiona cringed as she grabbed a mug. “Poor girl,”
Debbie was next to walk down the stairs, and her loud morning voice was what woke you up. Lip’s thigh was sore as you slowly lifted your head from it, and he decided that he liked it when you fell asleep on his chest a lot better.
Your eyes are barely open as you sit up and immediately cover your ears when Debbie notices you. “Is that Y/n?!” She asked excitedly and ran over to you. You had no time to process anything as she threw herself at you in an embrace.
“Hi, Debs,” you mutter, clearly confused as you hardly return the hug before she pulls away.
“Knock it off,” Lip says as he tugs his sister away from you, knowing that you weren’t at all a morning person and were probably refraining from going off on the kid for waking you up.
“Yeah, Deb, lay off the sugar before bed,” Fiona says sternly as she hands you a mug. You take it from her and sip the coffee, grunting in disgust when you were met with a bitter taste. “Black coffee is the best way to reduce a hangover. Take it from me.”
You slouch back against the couch as you hold the mug with both hands, still in the process of waking up. Glancing to your right, you notice Lip still sitting next to you. “What happened last night?” You ask as you try to recall how exactly you ended up on your ex-boyfriend’s couch.
“You got drunk, like, really drunk, and Melissa and Danielle dropped you off here,”
“Melissa and Danielle?” You ask with a furrowed brow before realizing who he was talking about. “Oh, you mean Marissa and Daneel?”
“Same difference,” he muttered just as Carl came flying down the stairs in a mess of limbs.
He reached the bottom and shot up when he walked by the couch. “Oh, hey, Y/n,” he greeted you as if your presence here was a normal thing, and up until almost two weeks ago, it was.
You give him a half-assed wave before closing your eyes tightly and praying that you will survive the pounding in your head.
Fiona must have felt bad for you as she quickly gathered up a few lunch foods before throwing them in a couple of disposable brown bags. “Okay, time to let the drunk girl rest,” she said and guided Ian, Debbie, Carl and Liam towards the front door. “Time to go to school. Lip, I take it you’re staying home to look after her?” She nodded at you and he waved her off as he stood up.
“Yeah, yeah, I got her,” he said and walked into the kitchen.
Soon, the house was empty except for you and Lip, and you cower further into the couch as you listen to him rummage around in the next room. After drinking half of the gross coffee, you felt well enough to sit up properly and shrug the blanket off of you, hating how it smelled like your ex.
You place the mug on the coffee table just as he exits the kitchen with a plate in his hand. He sits next to you again, though a bit further away than before, and holds the plate out to you. “Toast?” You ask as you eye the food, ignoring the flutter in your heart at the fact that he had made you some form of breakfast, despite him not needing to.
“With jam,” he corrected with a quick smile before it was gone and you were shaking your head. “It’s all we have.”
“Thank you,” you take the plate from him and lift the toast up to your mouth, taking the smallest bite possible out of it.
“So,” he starts as you chew the lightly toasted piece of bread, hating that he knew your toast preferences so well. “Do you remember anything from last night?”
You put the toast back onto the plate and think about it for a second, before shaking your head. “Not really,” you answer and set the plate down on your lap. “Why? Did something happen?”
“Yeah,” he said, lifting his hand and massaging the stiffness out of the back of his neck. “Your scummy friends ditched you with me because you got drunk.”
You rolled your eyes and shove the plate back into his hands before grabbing the mug and standing up. “Just because you don’t like them, doesn’t mean they’re scummy,” you mutter and walk into the kitchen, finishing off the coffee and setting the mug down in the sink.
Lip scoffs as he bites into the toast he made for you. “No, them dropping you off at your ex-boyfriends house so they don’t have to keep an eye on you and to go get drunk makes them scummy,” he calls out to you and sets the half eaten toast on the plate, leaving it on the couch as he gets up to go after you. He finds you leaning against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.
You were still in the black dress you wore to the bar last night, and he was pretty sure that it was his favorite one, as he recalls complimenting you every time you wore it out with him. “They’re not so bad,” you say quietly, and Lip was about done with hearing you defend the people who abandoned you.
“They’re the fucking worst,” he said, fed up. “I asked you this before, and even though you didn’t give me a decent answer then, I’m going to ask you again. Why the fuck do you continue to hang out with them?”
You shrug pathetically as you avoid eye contact with him. “Because they’re all I have,”
Lip shakes his head at that, not happy with your answer at all as he leaned against the fridge across from where you were. “That’s bullshit,” he grunted. “You had me, you still have me. Why do you let them treat you like that? In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve always let people walk all over you. Then you get pissed off with me when I call you out on it. Why?”
“It was too much,” you mumble and shake your head, crossing your arms tighter. “It felt so right with you, too right. You made this fucked up place seem. You, Fi, fuck, even Carl. You guys are a real family who look out for each other. I never had that, never felt like I deserved it. You know where I came from and what my life was like before I met you. That’s what I deserve, not this. Not you.”
Lip had never heard such nonsense in all his life. He had never heard you talk like that about yourself, and he quickly decided he didn’t like it. “You think you deserve to go back to that life? To how things were before I took you away from all that shit? You don’t,” he crossed his own arms, mirroring your stance as you lifted your head to meet his eyes. “You’re smart, but you’re also fucking dumb if you think I’m going to allow you to go back to that part of your life.”
You tried not to let his words affect you, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at how much he still clearly cared for you. “It’s not up to you,”
“Damn it, Y/n,” he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated at you now. “Why can’t you see yourself in the way that everyone else does? Daneel or Danielle or whoever the fuck she is dosn’t give a shit about you, and you shouldn’t give a shit about her, either.”
You knew he was right, you knew that Daneel and Marissa were the definition of fake friends, but you didn’t have much experience around those who cared for you. Between your friends, parents and your siblings, none of them treated you like how Lip and his family did. Could you really be blamed for believing that you weren’t worthy of him? “They’re all I have-”
“They’re not, baby,” he slipped up and called you by the name once again, but didn’t bother correcting himself as he stepped forward and grabbed your right hand in both of his. “They’re not and you know it. You have me, and my own fucked up family. You have us. You and me.”
You felt shy suddenly as you asked, “Still?” He places your hand flat against his chest so you could feel the steady beat of his heart, something that calms you down as you clarify your question. “I still have you?”
“Yes,’’ he answered and you don’t bother holding back a sigh of relief. “You still have me.”
“I’m sorry,” you nearly whispered, despite the two of you being the only ones in the house. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he said back, moving forward to press his forehead against yours. “Fuck, breaking up was the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”
You hum in agreement as you bring your other hand up to rest against his chest while his reach down to grip your waist. “You regret it?”
“Are you kidding?” He scoffed before pressing a quick kiss to the skin of your neck. “I haven’t been able to sleep without you, that’s why I was on the couch last night before you even got here.”
Your face heats up at that, as well at the feeling of his lips on your skin. “Really?”
Lip hummed as his forehead returned to yours.
“Well,” you trailed off as you slid your hands up his chest and set them on the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. “We might have to do something about that. When was the last time you slept for more than a few hours?”
“When did we break up?”
“A week and a half ago,”
“About a week and a half ago,” he answered and you grinned for a second before he was closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in nearly two weeks.
Lip is familiar with regret, that's just how being a Gallagher is like. He regrets not having tried harder, not showing Fiona he loved her as kids. He regrets fighting so much with Ian, he regrets being a prick, he regrets making choices that derailed his entire life and cost him his youth.
But right now? He regrets fucking you and him up.
He regrets fucking up with the one person who truly saw him, him and all of his flaws and fucked up issues he carries like a badge of honour and still loved him. Still wanted him.
He's standing at the cross road, waiting for the light to turn green because he's taking Franny to her mum and Debbie would have his head if he crossed the light when it's still red. Her small hand is warm and sweaty in his, but he still makes sure to hold her tightly, lest she is hit by childish curiosity and wanders off. His attention is divided between listening to her ramble about her day in school, watching the light and waiting for it to turn green, and the phone in his hand.
It's purely a coincidence that his eyes stray when he looks up to the light. On the other side, there's a small coffee shop, nestled between a florist and some sort of boutique he's fairly certain is much too overpriced and under visited.
Quaint, iron wrought tables decorate the outside of the café, a few of them busy with patrons sipping beverages and accosting desserts, but that doesn't matter. Not when he sees you, your unmistakable frame sitting at one of the tables closest to the entrance of the café. He can't see all of you, but it's you, undeniably in the flesh. Same hair style, same relaxed posture, same clothing style you've made yours all those years ago, just more sophisticated, more mature now that time has passed and shaped you into someone else entirely.
The world tilts and crashes, the air punched out of his chest with one fell gust that exits his mouth as a shaky exhale. He can't believe his eyes, never having thought a day would come where he sees you again. He still remembers how the both of you fought when he went to college, the concern you had for his behaviour, his accusations, the tears, the screams, the pain it all brought.
"Why do you keep doing this Lip? You're not your parents damn it!"
"Well maybe I'm not you, but you sure are puttin' your nose in other people's business."
"Well sorry if I'm a human being that has emotions and actually cares about my best friend, but you're fucking up your whole life with the way you're acting!"
"Maybe I do want to fuck my life up! Who fucking knows? Stay the fuck away from me and mind your own fuckin' business bitch."
He told you to stay away from him and mind your own business, you silently took your things and obliged. Your eyes glazed over, then they hardened, like the rest of your face, like he no longer meant anything to you. The moment you walked out of that door, he knew he'd made an irreversible mistake, but he was too proud to admit it back then. Too proud and selfish to acknowledge his wrongs, and so he ruined the only good thing he's ever had in his entire life. He went off to continue fucking his life up spectacularly, while you moved in silence, cutting him and his entire family off.
From one day to the other, you were no longer part of the chaos that is the Gallagher family. No longer part of Lip's life. And suddenly? You were no longer part of Southside at all.
You'd moved away somewhere, he never found out where exactly, but you left everyone in the dust and no one heard from you again or saw you.
But here you were now, years later laughing and smiling like there couldn't be a single thing burdening you.
The light turns green, and Franny tugs him across the street in excitement. For once, he can feel himself mirroring her joy, feet taking him across the street and approaching the café that's on his way anyway. He's already planning a million ways to talk to you, all the words he left unsaid, all the things he wished he would've told you more often, all the memories he wants to replay with you. The apologies that are overdue and a part of him hopes and yearns to rekindle what once was.
But then, he stops, freezes mid step when he realizes you aren't alone. There's someone else with you, some person he's never seen before who has their hand over yours with such naturalness, like it's the way things are supposed to be. He's close enough to hear your voice now, to see all the details of the scene playing in front of him, and suddenly his eyes are zooming into your hand and the stranger's.
Two golden rings.
Two matching wedding bands.
Lip is sick to his stomach with disappointment and heartbreak.
You laugh at something the stranger says, head thrown back in that way he knows you only reserve for those you trust and hold close to your heart, and he hears the way his cold gray heart breaks at the sound.
The stranger looks at you the way he should've been back then; like you're their entire world, the most precious thing there is. They look at you the way you used to look at him, and he's sick to his stomach with regret
They get up from their seat, you follow suit, hands intertwined like you never want to be apart. That's when Lip sees it; the swell of your belly under the loose clothing you're wearing.
His mouth goes dry, brain quiet at the realisation. Everything is static, his whole body numb, like this might be the actual end of the world.
Franny tugs impatiently at his hand and he lets her drag him with her, still dazed by the encounter. You and the stranger —your spouse, it registers in his mind—walk by them, your shoulder brushing against his with the softest touch.
Then, you're gone. You take all the warmth with you, an icy wind sweeping across the street now that you're gone. The world is quiet, eerily silent even though he knows it shouldn't be.
It mirrors the silence in his head, the fuzzy numbness that takes place as he burns the sound of your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes into the walls of his heart.
There's only place for a singular thought the entire way back to Debbie's, and it's one of familiar and regretful nature, much to Lip's dismay.
I don't want the children of another person to have the eyes of the girl I won't forget.
i feel like i cant find any shameless headcanons that aren't extremely sexual, so here ya go !!
he prefers the winter over summer
loves all the layers and shit
when he was younger he was constantly reading
he's read like every kids book series there is
and he hated (secretly loved) every single one of them
he gets frequent migraines and headaches
debilitating for real.
but he refuses to take medicine
any offer is an immediate 'im good, don't worry about it'
so he typically just lies in a dark room until he gets too fidgety and decides to thug it out
he's really good at rolling weed
and he can even do cool designs with filters if he uses one
when he first started smoking it was a pack of winstons he'd stolen from monica
he fucking hatessss silent treatment. he's an arguer so he just wants every to scream back at him !!!
when it comes to fight or flight, he's fight 100%
especially when its a fight he knows he wont win
bro loves picking fights he cant finish for some reason
he's got lots of reasons for it
but i feel like he just wants to feel something.
living in a household like that makes you numb, especially when you're a caretaker and it's not like you have time to be upset.
his knuckles are permanently bruised
just a tinge purple
if he has to handwrite anything his hands will hurttt because he's gotten boxers fracture so many times
nail biter
i don't think he really likes jewelry
he might wear a couple rings but they're basically just fidget toys
he's got adhd
he hyperfixates on some weird intellect shit too
and no one wants to hear about it !!!
just let this man rant okay ??
im him ??? im rewatching shameless and i don't remember anything after like the 4th season, so if this is a bit ooc sorry !!! im really going off the first two seasons
we always talk about how carmy or lip eats pussy so fucking well and yes I agree, but let's thinking about jeremy and fuck i know he's devour it.
this man would be that man to own the 'eat pussy, it's vegan' shirt. he's so enthusiastic about it. i just know with my whole heart and soul he eats you like he's been starved for months. he's devouring you, for sure, and is deffo sloppy with it. this man isn't afraid to get messy during normal sex, so ofc he's going to practically drown himself in your arousal. theres so much spit it's soaking down to leave a rather large wet spot on the sheets. wants you to cum on his tongue and only his tongue, and god damn is he good with it. he's the type to playfully nip at your clit while you try to squirm away from him. says something along the lines of "don't run from me, m' just tryin' t'make ya feel good, sweetheart." and knowing that you're a whore for his nose, he would rubbing it so slowly in ur clit making you drip and cletch while uses that brute strength of his (god bless) to keep your thighs pinned and held over his shoulders until he's satisfied. does not accept his meal as finished until you're squirting and your voice has gone gravely from crying out his name.
I can see him laying on the bed, crystals around him or being rubbed along him. He flinches every now and then when one of the stones was too cool against him.
"Ya sure this is gonna make me feel calm?"
With a beginning ramble from you he nods along.
"Alright, alright baby. I'll.. I'll sit with the rocks."
So you set him up with incense going, crystals around. It makes him calm, despite his reluctance.
You can try to show him tarot but he's even more skeptical.
"I'm not against it, baby, jus' don't see it bein' right."
But Lip wouldn't even begin to say no. Your craft mingles with his life. He lets you stash crystals in his pockets, and he even rubs them when he's stressed. He starts leaving you his eggshells for you to use and his orange peels. He doesn't even make a sound when you put random oils on his skin. He just smiles and kisses your temple.
