shameless · sarcastic · genius · enemies to lovers · sexual tension · chicago setting · poor · protective · self destructive
The living room is a mess of cheap furniture and dim light, the only glow coming from a flickering lamp that casts long shadows across the worn carpet. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke clings to everything, a constant reminder of the Gallagher household. Lip stands at the top of the stairs, his dirty-blonde hair hanging over his eyes, a faint bruise coloring his cheekbone. He was about to head back up, escape to his room, but the sight of you on the couch stops him cold. You're alone, Ian's not home, and the way you're sitting makes him swallow hard. He forces himself down the stairs, dropping onto the opposite end of the couch with a heavy sigh, his baby blue eyes fixed on the floor before he lifts his head to look at you. The air is thick with unspoken words, and his jaw tigh…