#Noel Gallagher imagine

[putmeinmoviebaby]

First of all, English is not my first language, so please ignore any mistakes. Just focus on this man's beautiful hands and be happy.💕

Being young is such a mess, no financial stability, always scrambling to figure things out, and trying to find some freedom.

When I met Anaïs, we became friends quickly. We always had a lot in common, which strengthened our friendship. When we started sharing an apartment, it was reassuring.

"Are you coming back tonight?" I ask Anaïs, who was finishing getting ready.

"I don't think so. I'm heading to James's place," I hear her voice from the bathroom.

"Okay, be careful. Call me if you need anything."

I hear her laugh and see her stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in a dress with boots, her hair done, and wearing makeup.

"What do you think? I'm wearing that dress I bought last month."

I glance at her face and then at the dress, which was a wine-colored satin.

"The color really suits you; you look gorgeous," I say, winking at her and smiling.

I see her heading towards the living room, grabbing her bag and phone. She comes toward me before reaching the front door.

"Don’t wait up for me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, darling," Anaïs says, giving me a kiss on the cheek and heading out the door.

I lie down on the sofa, putting on some random movie while sipping a glass of wine. A well-deserved rest after spending a whole week under stress.

Scream was playing on TV. Distracted by the movie and the wine, I lost track of time, until I suddenly heard someone knocking at the door. When I checked the time, it was exactly 11 PM.

I couldn't imagine who it could be at this hour since I hadn't called anyone. Getting up, I glanced through the peephole and saw a man outside, wearing a white dress shirt. His face was slightly lowered, making it hard to see him clearly.

When I opened the door, he looked up directly at my face, somewhat surprised. I now noticed that his eyes were a very clear blue, reminding me of Anaïs's.

"Hi? Can I help you?"

"Oh, hey. I’m looking for my daughter, Anaïs," I heard the man say.

"Oh, you're Anaïs's father? She went out tonight; I’m not sure exactly when she’ll be back," I say, a bit embarrassed for not recognizing him.

"Ah, I was in the area and, knowing she tends to stay out late, I thought I’d drop by to see her."

"You must be Y/N, right?"

"Yes, nice to meet you," I say, offering my hand.

"Noel, Noel Gallagher. Nice to finally meet you," I hear the man say with a soft laugh.

"Would you like to come in? I can try calling her to see if she’s on her way," I say, stepping back.

"No, I wouldn’t want to disturb her."

"Oh, no, please, make yourself at home. Come in, I insist," I say, giving a shy smile.

I see the man enter with some hesitation. Once inside, I notice him looking around the room, observing the TV and the half-empty bottle of wine.

"Would you like some wine?"

I ask as I guide him to the living room, sitting on the sofa and looking at his face.

"Oh, no, thank you, darling, but I’ve had enough for today," I hear his deep voice say.

I give him a discreet smile and take a sip of wine from my glass. I grab my phone from the coffee table and try to send Anaïs a message to let her know about her father’s presence. However, seeing that the message wasn’t delivered, I figure she won’t see it until tomorrow.

I glance at the man beside me, now seated on the sofa and watching the TV. His hand displayed a thin gold bracelet that sparkled in the dimly lit room.

He was attractive in my eyes, with short, slightly gray hair, slim arms, and the first two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a chain.

His hand bore no wedding ring, which surprised me since I thought he might be committed.

"I sent a message to Anaïs, but I don’t know if she’ll see it now," I say, looking toward him.

"Oh, right. I haven’t seen her in five weeks because I was on tour. I’ve missed her," he replies.

Hearing this, I give him a smile and take another sip of wine, trying to feel more at ease.

"You’re a good father. I don’t even know when I last saw mine," I say, laughing. I see him raise an eyebrow at me and give me a warm look.

"I try my best. My father was a very complicated man and difficult for me and my siblings."

"I just gave up on mine. I was never close to him. Maybe one day we’ll work things out."

"Don’t pressure yourself, darling. The more frustrated you get, the harder it will be," I hear his strong British accent say.

I look at his face and see his compassionate gaze as he speaks to me.

"I think what young people do the most is get frustrated. We expect a lot and receive very little."

"That’s the problem, you shouldn’t expect much from something that has never given you anything."

"But it’s so nice to deceive yourself, to want to believe that you’ll get more than you really deserve," I say, running my hand through my hair.

I hear him laugh in response, seeing his hand move to his face and then down his neck. His hand was striking, with visible veins and long fingers.

"Would you mind if I smoke here?"

"Oh, no, go ahead," I say, shrugging.

I watch him pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He takes a cigarette, puts it in his mouth, and lights it.

As he takes a drag from the cigarette, he exhales the smoke, removes it from his mouth, and looks in my direction. "Do you want one?" he says, extending the cigarette that was in his hand.

After taking the cigarette, I take a deep drag, relaxing my body, and return it, noticing his eyes on me.

His eyes were striking, the kind you don’t easily forget, so blue they seemed like the open ocean.

"I wanted to quit nicotine, but when you start smoking young, it’s very hard to stop," I hear him say as he inhales the cigarette.

The smoke coming from his lips seemed like freshly written poetry, something to be admired.

"I can imagine. I try my best not to smoke because I’m highly addictive."

"I spent much of my life using drugs and smoking nicotine. I don’t think I’m good at giving advice about addictions."

I laugh and look at his face, taking the cigarette from him again, inhaling, and exhaling the smoke.

I see his gaze fall on my lips as I took another drag and then hand the cigarette back to him.

His gaze stayed on mine for a few seconds. Trying to defocus, he shakes his head slightly.

Letting my legs fall over the sofa, I see his gaze follow my movements. Then, he looks at my leg, which was exposed, with my hands resting on it.

Following my hands, I move them over the edge of the sofa, letting them drop. I see his face contort as he runs his tongue over his lips.

I see his breath catch for a few seconds, and his body tense.

Giving in to the tension of the moment, I run my hands through his hair until I reach his neck and chest, removing the chain from inside his shirt.

His gaze followed my movements, watching me look at his chain around his neck. His hand slowly moved up my arm until it reached my face.

His hand brushed my cheek, and I could feel the coolness of the ring on his hand. He held my face with his hand, stopping at my lips.

I let my hand fall on his chest, where he holds it and leans in, giving me a kiss.

As his mouth approaches my hand, I look deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, which now shine on his face.

In a moment of freedom, I let myself fall into his arms, holding his face and pulling him towards me, kissing his lips. His hands move up my back until they reach my hair.

I pass my arm over his shoulder, pulling his face towards mine. His hands move up my shoulders to my neck, sliding along until they reach my mouth. Then, I hear his husky voice in my ear: "Darling, you're driving me crazy."

His hand reaches the hem of my shirt, and his slender fingers glide over my body like playing a piano. He pulls it over my head, and my arms lift as if by electric instinct. His eyes never leave my face. His fingers reach my neckline, brushing past my lace bra. His lips approach my shoulder, letting sighs descend over me. My fingers run through his short hair, tugging at it. His fingers find my face, pulling it towards his. His chest rises and falls repeatedly, and his lips kiss me with urgency, as if I might disappear from his arms in seconds.

My fingers reach his shirt, unbuttoning it. I could feel my hands trembling at the closeness of his body to mine. I could sense his gaze on my fingers, making me even more nervous, feeling like a teenager again.

As I unfasten one button after another, I finally pull his shirt off his body. I watch his white shirt fall to the floor, joining mine, giving me an incredible view of his chest in front of me. My fingers trace over him, making circles on his chest, reaching up to his neck, placing kisses all over it.

"Darling, are you sure about this?" I hear his husky voice whisper in my ear while his hands slide down to my thighs, giving gentle squeezes.

"Yes, I want you," I say, looking into his face, letting my hands fall on his shoulders, my breath still faltering.

He lifts me up in his arms, surprising me, and carries me to the bedroom, where he lays me on the bed and climbs over me, kissing every inch of my body until he reaches my stomach.

His body was now between my thighs, getting close to my hips, his hands sliding down all over my legs.

His breathing was deep and slow, his eyes had a tremendous sparkle, his hands were firm. Everything about him drove me absolutely crazy; it only made me want more and more.

There was no denying it; my body called for his like a roaring flame, and I won't deny my desire for Noel Gallagher on this long night.

The End

[imaginesbymonika]

Futile Devices | Part 1

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend!reader

Plot: There’s nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it’s too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

(1985)

You gaze at the ceiling, while soft guitar music fills the atmosphere. Outside you could hear people yell at one another, and perhaps Noel heard it too because his singing voice abruptly became a bit louder: “You’re my Coney Island Baby, you’re so precious, so sweet…” At the sound of someone slamming the door shut you involuntarily lift your head. “You’re my lucky star, that’s what you are.”

His voice is soft, or at least he attempts to sound smoother than he’s capable of being. Just last week, he managed to catch a vicious throat infection somehow. You kidded about how he got it from some girl down the block, but when he didn’t laugh about it you felt stupid. “How’s your throat?”, you ask, turning your head to get a better look at him. Noel shrugs:” You tell me.”

You nod before letting your head fall back down on the mattress. Outside the window, thick grey clouds have covered the once-blue sky, and a few tiny raindrops roll down the glass. “I hate September.”, you whisper and he quits playing. His eyes are burning holes into the top of your head:” I know. You say that every year.” “But only because every year, September manages to disappoint me.”

He chuckles before clearing his throat. He winces at the slight ache.

“Have you written anything new, yet?”, you ask, counting the small cracks in the ceiling. Three, five- eight. “Hmm, maybe.”, he replies, his fingers are tapping on the instrument. “Can I hear it?” “When it’s finished, sure.” A silence falls upon you both before Noel speaks up:” By the way, why- what did Tommy say to you?”

You quickly roll over onto your stomach:” Tommy? You mean when we stood in front of Ben’s Pub?” Noel nods, his fingers have stopped moving. It was the same bar where you and Noel kissed one another for the first time, a couple of years ago. Both of you happened to be extremely drunk that night, nevertheless not drunk enough for you to forget about it -you wondered if he had.

“He asked me for my number.”

“Oh, did he?”, a soft scoff escapes his lips, while he stares outside into the afternoon:” Did you give it to him?” There’s a newfound harshness to his voice, but it quickly disappears when he clears his throat once more. “No.”, you simply answer:” He’s not my type, anyway.”

Noel nods:” Yeah, right.” He slightly raises his guitar, until it’s back upright in his lap:” You’re my Coney Island Baby, you mean so much to me. You’re my pretty little lady.” A faded sigh escapes you before you move back onto your back. Ten, twelve, thirteen.

“Did you call Stacy back?”

He hums in response. “You know, that bird from school. Gave you her number on a cigarette.” You loathed how cool that was. And after a few moments of silence, Noel shakes his head:” Not my type, you know.”

Your eyes move down to your fingers, while they play with the corner of his beige bedsheets:” Well, what’s your type anyway?” The regret forms itself quickly in your abdomen and you swallow thickly. However, Noel merely chuckles:” I think, I need to know someone before I-, well, you know.” And you do.

“Yeah. Me too.”

[leaawrites]

Spoil me

Noel Gallagher x fem!actress!reader

Summary: Noel takes her out to go shopping after he finished up his new album.

Warnings: fluffy, angst, swearing, (this is part four to a series, can be read as a standalone though)

Wordcount: 0.8k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Masterlist

Sitting on the sofa, switching between the different programs on the telly, she bore herself to death. Wishing for Noel to get out of his little home studio and entertain her in one way or another.

Just as she switched back to the news and groaning when they showed the same thing as a week prior, she heard the door to Noel’s studio opening. The man walking out with a grin on his face as he stepped over to her and kissed her before telling her, “get ready, we’re going out.”

“What? Where are we going?” She asked, although already standing up and walking to the closet to change out of her joggers.

“I just finished the album, and we’re gonna celebrate a little,” he said, pulling her closer in the middle of the stairs. Looking happier than ever before.

“You just finished it? That’s great, Noel. I told you, you shouldn’t pressure yourself. It’ll be great, I can feel it.” Throwing her arms around his shoulders, Noel chuckled into her neck.

“Darling, you’ve already heard every song beside the last one.”

“Still, I’ve never heard it fully. Front to back,” she insisted before continuing her way up.

“So, where are we going? How should I dress?” She asked, flicking through her rows of clothes. Looking over the stacks of tops and bottoms. Trying to remember what looked good together.

“Casual’s alright. It’s nothing too crazy,” Noel shrugged, a smile spreading on his face as he saw the glimmer of curiosity lingering in her eyes.

“Casual my ass,” she muttered as she found herself in front of the Chanel Store. Looking down the road she could make out all kinds of high fashion logos and Noel standing next to her with an excited smile on his face.

“C’mon let’s go.” He urged her inside, pulling her from the space where she seemed to be stuck in inside the store.

“Why do you seem more excited than me?” She asked with a giggle as she saw him looking at her again.

“Let’s just let me spoil you for once, love,” he insisted, walking further inside.

The whole day was spent with spending money. His money. Even when she would insist on buying something he’d have his card out faster than her already paying for a new dress or shoes or a bag.

“I can’t believe you,” she muttered as they walked out of the last store, for the first time registering just how many bags Noel was carrying for her. “You’re insane.”

“Darling, I’m not the one with expensive taste.” A familiar smirk crept on his lips.

“Right,” she said, pulling him into a kiss to make it disappear from his face. “Liam’s the one buying Gucci parkas.”

“He’s a slut for anything half decent,” Noel insisted as they walked back to the car.

Putting the bags in the trunk and climbing inside, Noel looked at her in the driver seat.

“You know we have a driver, right? You don’t always have to drive everywhere.” Looking at her like he was unsure if this was new information he just dumped on her.

Though the bored look on her face told him otherwise as she checked the rear view.

“I like driving, is that a crime?” She asked, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the busy streets of London.

“No, not at all. Was just wondering if you knew,” he said, raising his hands in surrender and laughing at her tone.

“I know and I don’t care.”

Opening the door to their house, they were both packed fully. Designer bags hanging from their arms, laughing as they stumbled through the door after Noel almost didn’t get it open.

Letting them rest by the entrance for now, they both sank down on the sofa rather messily. Legs tangled together and breaths heavy from the ‘work-out’.

“Why do you not like me spoiling you?” Noel broke the silence first, looking over at her.

“It’s not like I don’t like it, I just- I don’t know,” she answered, rolling over and laying her head on his chest.

“I think you do know, darling.” His fingers gently moved through her hair, a gentle sigh of contempt leaving her lips as she closed her eyes.

“I feel like a gold-digger of some sorts if you pay for all my stuff. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

“I’m not.” He gently leaned down, leaving a kiss on the top of her head. His lips lingering on her hair for a second longer. “Don’t worry, I’m not thinking that.”

Grateful for the reassurance, she nodded her head. Though her eyes always trailed over to the bags by the door and the uneasy feeling came back more intense with every glance their way.

[biblical-chronicles]

Sibling rivalry

__________________________________________

where the two both take a likin' to you, but who will you choose?

(you actually get to choose, more than one thing)

__________________________________________

It started, as many things did, with a pint.

You’d only meant to pop into the pub for a quick drink—a quiet end to a long day. You weren’t looking for company, weren’t looking for a story to tell. But fate, and a bit of dumb luck, had other plans.

You’d just settled onto a barstool, a fresh pint in hand, when someone slid into the empty seat beside you. At first, you didn’t think much of it—just another bloke looking for a drink. But then he turned, nodded at you, and said, “Not from round ‘ere, are ya?”

You glanced up, eyebrow raising slightly. Dark hair, sharp features, an expression that hovered somewhere between amusement and boredom. He had a quiet sort of confidence, like he’d seen it all before and wasn’t in any rush to be impressed.

“I live round here,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Do I not look local?”

He smirked. “Nah, just don’t recognise ya. And I know everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“More or less.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “What, you the mayor or somethin’?”

That earned you a quiet chuckle. “Somethin’ like that.” He leaned against the bar, tilting his head as he studied you. “Noel.”

You introduced yourself in return, shaking the hand he offered. His grip was firm, his palm slightly rough—calloused, like someone who spent more time with a guitar than he did sitting behind a desk.

It didn’t take long to fall into easy conversation. There was something about him—dry humour, sharp wit, the kind of effortless cool that couldn’t be faked. You talked about music, about Manchester, about nothing in particular. It was the kind of conversation that flowed naturally, like two people who had known each other much longer than the twenty minutes you actually had.

And then, just as you were mid-sentence, another voice cut in.

"Oi, Noel—ain’t that bird too fit for you?"

You turned just in time to see a new figure saunter up, all swagger and mischief. He was taller than Noel, broader in the shoulders, with messy hair and a cocky grin that looked permanent. You knew who he was before he even opened his mouth again.

Liam Gallagher.

You barely had a chance to react before Noel sighed heavily, like he’d been expecting this exact interruption. "Fuck off, Liam."

Liam ignored him, plonking himself down on your other side. "Nah, serious question," he said, looking at you now, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You actually enjoyin’ talkin’ to him, or has he been borin’ you to death with some story about how he single-handedly reinvented music?"

You smirked, glancing between the two of them. "He’s been alright, actually."

Liam huffed, looking affronted. "Christ, standards are slippin’ round ‘ere."

Noel rolled his eyes. "Don’t you have someone else to bother?"

Liam ignored that too. Instead, he turned his attention fully to you, draping an arm over the back of your chair like he’d known you for years. "Right, well. If you’re lookin’ for an actual good time, you’re talkin’ to the wrong brother."

Noel scoffed. "Oh, fuck off."

"What?" Liam spread his hands. "It’s true! You’re sat here actin’ all mysterious, talkin’ in riddles, meanwhile, I’m an open book. Dead easy to talk to, me."

"You’re a gobshite, is what you are."

"And yet, people love me."

Noel shook his head, lifting his pint to his lips. "No one fuckin’ loves you, mate."

Liam turned back to you, expression dramatic. "See what I have to put up with?"

You just laughed, shaking your head. "You two always like this?"

"Absolutely," Noel muttered.

"Since birth," Liam added.

Noel shot him a look. "Well, since your birth. I was sound ‘til you showed up."

Liam grinned. "Jealous ‘cause I’m the better model?"

Noel’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah, mate. That’s definitely what it is."

You were barely holding in your laughter at this point. The banter between them was so seamless, so automatic, you almost felt like an intruder just watching it unfold.

Liam must have noticed, because he turned back to you, leaning in slightly. "See, I’m just tryin’ to make sure you have a good night, but he’s makin’ it all about himself. Typical."

"Fuckin’ hell, Liam," Noel groaned.

"You are doin’ a lot of talkin’ for someone who’s meant to be the quiet, cool one," you teased.

Liam snorted, nudging your shoulder like you were already in on the joke. "See? She gets it."

Noel sighed, shaking his head—but you didn’t miss the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "She’s humourin’ you, mate."

"Bet she’s not."

"Bet she is."

You grinned, glancing between them. "You lot always this competitive?"

Noel lifted a shoulder. "Only when he’s losin’."

Liam scoffed. "I never lose."

"You’re losin’ now."

"Am I fuck."

The bickering continued, neither of them willing to back down. You just sat back, sipping your pint, thoroughly entertained.

You had walked into this pub alone. But somehow, between a drink and some good conversation, you’d landed yourself in the middle of a full-fledged Gallagher standoff.

“Gonna step out for a cig.” He paused, then—almost casual, almost like he wasn’t particularly arsed either way—nodded towards the door. “You comin’ or what?”

You raised a brow, setting your glass down. “You inviting me, Gallagher?”

He scoffed. “Reckon so, yeah. Unless you’re havin’ too much fun watchin’ him”—he jerked his chin toward Liam, who was now gesturing wildly about something, pint dangerously close to spilling—“chat absolute shite.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Nah, I think I like it here.”

...

The rest of the evening carried on much the same—Liam and Noel, constantly taking jabs at each other, each trying to outdo the other in whatever way they could. It wasn’t always obvious, but you could see it—the way Liam would shift closer when Noel spoke, the way Noel would cut in when Liam was making you laugh a little too much.

At one point, Noel offered to buy you a drink. Liam scoffed.

“Eh, don’t let him,” he said, leaning in. “Tightest fucker you’ll ever meet.”

Noel, completely unfazed, just exhaled, shaking his head. “Right, and what, you’re the generous one?”

“Absolutely.”

You just laughed, letting them bicker as you took a sip of your drink.

Later, when Noel had been dragged into a conversation with someone else, Liam nudged your knee under the table. “Gotta say, didn’t expect to have such riveting competition tonight,” he said, smirking.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting less of a challenge?”

Liam grinned, tipping his pint towards you. “Course.”

“You’re both as bad as each other,” you said, shaking your head.

“You love it, though,” he teased.

You pretended to consider. “…Maybe.”

As the night wound down, the pub thinning out, you checked the time and sighed. “I should probably head off,” you said, standing and stretching.

Noel, who had reappeared beside you, arched an eyebrow. “What, leavin’ already?”

“Some of us have responsibilities,” you said, grinning.

Liam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Tragic, that.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone. “Here,” you said, handing it to Noel first.

He smirked but took it, tapping in his number before handing it to Liam. Liam squinted at the screen before doing the same, then passed it back to you.

“There,” he said. “Now you’re stuck with us.”

You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Lucky me.”

Noel grinned. “You are, actually.”

Liam snorted, shaking his head, but he was grinning too.

You took a step back, tucking your hands into your pockets. “Alright, lads, it’s been fun. Try not to kill each other, yeah?”

“No promises,” Noel said, lifting his pint.

You laughed again, turning for the door, feeling their eyes on you as you walked out into the night.

Back home, you flopped onto your couch, staring up at the ceiling, mind still buzzing from the night.

What the fuck was that?

It wasn’t just that they’d been fighting over you—that much was obvious. But what did it mean? Was it just some drunken game between brothers, a bit of fun for the night? Had they just seen an opportunity to wind each other up and taken it, and you’d been caught in the middle? Or had it actually been something more?

And if it was something more… what were you supposed to do about it?

You didn’t even know if you had a preference. If it had just been Noel, or just Liam, maybe you’d have a better grasp on it. But no, it had been both of them, equally persistent, equally charming in their own ways. The whole thing left you feeling unsteady, stuck in some weird limbo where you didn’t quite know how to move forward.

Not that it mattered, apparently.

A couple of days passed without a single word from either of them. No texts, no calls, nothing. And that, really, gave you the answer, didn’t it? It had just been a bit of fun at the pub, and you’d read too much into it.

Probably already been forgotten, you thought bitterly, rolling your eyes at yourself.

And then your phone buzzed.

You nearly ignored it, but when you glanced at the screen and saw the name—Noel—your stomach did a weird little flip. You scrambled to grab your phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers.

Noel: You still alive?

You blinked. What?

Noel: Got some time this evenin’?

For a second, you just stared at the screen. Then your heart lurched into your throat, and you had to physically shake yourself out of it.

Okay. Okay. Breathe.

You had not been forgotten. Not entirely, at least. And—more importantly—Liam hadn’t been the one to reach out. Just Noel. The choice had been made for you, clearly.

You: Yeah, I’m free. What’re you thinking?

Noel: I could come round yours?

Shit. Shit.

You felt another little rush of panic, followed swiftly by a wave of excitement. You hadn’t even entertained the idea that one of them would come over, but now it was happening, and you suddenly felt grossly unprepared.

You: Yeah, sounds good. I’ll text you the address.

Noel: Sound.

You let out a breath, staring at the messages for a moment before jumping to your feet. If he was coming over, your place needed to not look like a disaster zone. You spent the next hour tidying up—nothing too obvious, just enough that it looked effortlessly presentable. And, of course, you changed. Not too much, didn’t want to look like you’d tried too hard, but… a little.

By the time there was a knock at the door, you were as ready as you could be.

You took a deep breath, then pulled it open.

Noel stood there, hands in his coat pockets, a small bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm.

You blinked.

“…You brought flowers?”

He smirked, shifting them toward you. “What, can’t show up empty-handed, can I?”

You huffed a laugh, taking them from him. “Didn’t peg you for the romantic type.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, stepping inside.

The evening had settled into something easy, something comfortable.

Noel had made himself at home on your couch, legs stretched out, a drink in hand, looking for all the world like he’d been there a hundred times before. You’d thrown on a record—something older, something good—and the two of you sat back, talking shit about music, about gigs, about whatever came to mind.

It was nice. Flirty in that natural, unforced way, the kind where neither of you were really trying but it was there anyway, in the small smirks, in the teasing lilt of your words, in the way his eyes lingered when you talked.

At some point, he got up to flip the record over, and you watched him from where you sat, drink dangling from your fingers.

“You’re a proper music snob, aren’t you?” you mused.

Noel scoffed. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. If it’s not from some band that was big before I was even born, you don’t wanna hear it.”

He turned back, narrowing his eyes playfully. “It’s called havin’ taste, mate. Some of us have got it.”

You laughed, shaking your head, and he grinned, dropping back onto the couch beside you. The conversation continued, winding and effortless, and you let yourself enjoy it—just sitting there with him, the warm glow of the lamp, the quiet crackle of the record.

Then your phone buzzed.

You ignored it at first, too caught up in whatever Noel was saying. But a few minutes later, when his glass was near-empty, you took the chance to get up.

“I’ll grab us another drink,” you said, standing.

Noel just hummed in agreement, settling further into the couch as you made your way to the kitchen.

As soon as you were out of sight, you pulled out your phone.

Liam.

Liam: Oi, you free later? Was thinking of swingin’ by late evening.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.

What were the fucking odds? A couple of days of nothing and then the moment you finally think, alright, Noel it is, Liam decides to pop back up?

You chewed your lip, staring at the message.

Alright. Two options.

Either you told Liam you were busy—simple, easy, no drama—or you somehow got Noel to leave early without making it obvious.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

“Y’alright?”

You jumped slightly at the sound of Noel’s voice from the other room.

“Yeah!” you called back, forcing your voice to stay normal. “Just getting the drinks.”

Shoving your phone back into your pocket, you grabbed the bottles from the counter and took a deep breath.

As you walked back toward the living room, drinks in hand, you made a split-second decision.

You shifted one of the bottles to the crook of your arm, freeing up a hand to grab your phone. Fingers moving quickly, you typed out a reply.

Ah, can’t tonight. Another time?

Yeah, I'll send you the address in a bit x

...

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. The soft hum of the fridge, the distant sound of traffic, all of it pressing in on you like a weight.

How did you even get here?

You hadn’t meant for things to get complicated. Both of them were clearly willing to try something with you, both of them offering something real, something worth exploring. And yet, the more you thought about it, the more it felt wrong.

You can’t have both.

Your chest tightened at the thought. If you chose one, the other would be hurt, and you'd be left with the awkward tension of knowing you’d led them on. You couldn’t stand the idea of breaking Noel’s heart—he was your rock, your best friend. He deserved better than to be caught up in this mess. But Liam, too, had been nothing but kind, and the pull between you two was undeniable. What if you picked Noel, but Liam felt left out? What if choosing him meant losing Noel?

What do I do?

The anxiety hit, and your breath grew shallow. Your hands shook as you scrolled through the threads of messages again, looking for some kind of sign that would make the decision easier. But there was nothing. Just the two of them, both wanting something from you. Something you weren’t sure you were ready to give.

If you choose one, you’ll lose the other.

You felt trapped, suffocated by the pressure of making the right choice. You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Noel, who had always been there for you. You didn’t want to hurt Liam, who seemed so open, so genuine. But there was no way around it.

You couldn’t keep leading them both on. You couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t know what your heart really wanted.

With shaky hands, you grabbed your phone, quickly choosing

Liam's number

Noel's number

________________________________________

don't know where to include notes, but I'll do it here since it's the main skeleton I guess? hopefully, it was not too messy to read?? anyhow, hope ya lot liked it, this was the reason the stories were a tad shorter lately xx

also, made a whole separate blog just to post the choices, since I didn't know how to do it so that I wouldn't a) completely spoil the endings b) spam the shit out of ya

[feeeeveeeer]

[definitely-rubbish]

liam being john, Noel being Paul, guigs being george, and Tony n bonehead being Ringo. amazing

[anywayxstarchild]

noel gallagher on polaroid, circa 2000-01

"to liam, best wishes, noel gallagher" [sent as a gift to liam]

&

"greatest love? life."

&

"greatest fear? love."

[supernovamateeee]

Know that I mean it when I say: I would rob banks and sell my feet pictures to make "Getting High with the Gallaghers" a reality.

[harddaysnite]

Liam 'Compromising' Gallagher🤘

[oacest]

"i've waited for a thousand years... for you to come and FUCK ME--!" (x)

[rivercloak]

liam and noel core:

[romidoes]

mickey and i. he’s my best friend and i wish for us to be together forever. - ian

[imaginesbymonika]

Futile Devices | Part 2

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend!reader

Plot: There's nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it's too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

Previous part

(1990)

You always loathed clubbing. There was just something about the combination of a crowded space with loud music and the heinous smell of alcohol mixed with puke that sickened you to the bone. And you didn’t understand why it didn’t disgust most people. Your best friend Noel, happened to be one of those.

“Well, you do like going to concerts.”, he argued, observing your every move while getting dressed. You had no idea when this ritual of getting ready together started, but you didn’t really mind it. A soft sigh left your lips:” That’s just different. I go to concerts where I enjoy the music. I get what I paid for.” He only nodded.

You swallow (more than) thickly, while you make your way through the crowd towards the club toilet. The impulse to vomit just got too much. Not because you’re intoxicated, but because someone who stood very close to you puked right in front of your feet. The light at the end of the tunnel (which in this case happened to be pink and purple) came into sight and you let out a relieved sigh. However when someone grasps you by your upper arm you almost fall to your knees.

You instantly turn your head after managing to stabilize yourself and make eye contact with a very, very drunk man. Fear builds itself up in your stomach while you realize that his head is coming closer. You desperately want to take a step back, however, when your bare back comes into contact with the stony wall your eyes widen. You’re trapped, while his fingers dig themselves into the flesh of your arm.

“Oi. Sweetheart.”

For a second you consider vomiting into his face, however, before you can do anything there’s a fist colliding with his cheekbone. A small shriek escapes your lips while Noel steps into view. “You twat!”, he shouts over the unbelievably loud music:” I am going to kill you.” There’s something in his eyes that implies, that he might actually do it, considering the smell of alcohol that envelops him like an aura field.

„Noel!“, you say, clearly your throat before repeating it louder. He stares down at the man, who is sitting on the floor holding a tooth in between his fingers:“ If you touch her again, I swear to God I will kill ya.“ Whenever he got angry, his accent came out. And right now his accent has never been denser. „Let’s leave, Noel.“, your hand moves up to softly shake his shoulder and it’s only when you two finally make eye contact that his gaze softens. He nods. You quickly take his hand before guiding him through the mass towards the exit.

As soon as the big metal door falls shut behind you, you can hear his soft and husky voice:” Are you okay?” His hand is still in yours, holding on to it tightly, while his gaze roams your features - revealing nothing but genuine concern layered with something more. You can only nod before you let go of him to take your pack of cigarettes out of your purse. Out of the corner of your eye, you can catch a glimpse of how he looks down at his now empty hand.

With slightly shaky hands you place one cigarette in between your lips. “Y/N.”, he suddenly lets out:” I’m sorry. I should’ve been there to protect you.”

“But you did.” “Not quick enough.”

A sigh leaves your lips. “You know, I am always-.”, he stops talking and his eyes anxiously roam the street, it’s almost as if he’s attempting to figure out what he wants to say:” I’m always looking out for you, I just want you to know that.”

You nod and he mirrors it. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Want to go home?”

“Yes, please.”

[leaawrites]

Crazier

Noel Gallagher x fem!actress!reader

Summary: Everything must come to an end. At best a happy end.

Last one for this series!

Warnings: bit suggestive, fluff,

Wordcount: 0.7k

Part 1, Masterlist

Waking up, the headache was already plaguing her. The pain shoving itself into her nerve system from behind her eyes, making it unbearable for her to open them - especially when the sun was screaming at her brightly that she should regret the activities of the day before.

But what even happened?

Turning around to bury her head into the pillow and make the world go dark again, instead of sheets thrown over the mattress, she found a body under them. A naked body. Back towards her, breathing softly.

Noel was still sleeping as her eyes shot open, immediately snapping shut again at the pain. Her head was falling back, a groan escaped her mouth at the thought of what had happened again and slowly, pictures were coming back. One by one.

Her at the premier, on the red carpet. Looking to her right to see him watch her with a grin on his face. Taking photos but always glancing back. Him paying the person next to her in the cinema so that he could sit next to her. Enjoying the movie together, her telling him fun facts about the filming. Sensing his eyes on her even after she turned towards the screen already.

And then, the after party, drinks were flowing and she had one too many. He asked to take her home and she agreed. Driving to his place instead of the hotel she was staying at. Being carried away by the memories they had there. Pushing him against the wall. Making dreams become drunk reality. Intoxicating him with her lust filled fever. Him filling her with his love.

Tangled up in sheets, whispering and screaming and moaning their love. Realizing that everything they had been missing over the years was the other.

And now, she was where she never dared to go in her dreams.

The morning after.

Seeing him asleep, his back muscles tensing when her fingers linger over his skin. Scared of him waking up but still wanting to look into his eyes. Feeling the touch of his lips on hers still, even if it was only a ghostly memory. She still felt him.

But what now? How would he react and what would he want her to do now? Probably leave, right? She could just make it less awkward for him to tell her to go and just go on her own. It was easier that way, she told herself as she slipped out from under the sheets. Bending down to gather her clothes that were scattered across the floor. Slipping her underwear back over her legs before picking up the dress she had worn.

“You’re not planning on leaving, are you?”

His voice made her stop moving. Slowly looking behind herself, his face was buried in the pillow, a slow smile crept on his face as he saw her bare chest. Memories flooding his brain.

“I thought you would want me to,” she whispered back, making him frown. It was deep in his eyes, the offence and confusion.

“Why would you think that?”

“Noel,” she said, as if saying his name would make him come to his senses. But it only brought more confusion.

As softly as it left her lips she still had to feel something, or?

“We haven’t talked in years, I’m not gonna pressure you into niceties with me now,” she continued talking.

“Niceties?” He sounded genuinely offended at her wording. “I’m not here to exchange niceties. I want to know” - moving closer, he sat up now. His hand reaching over to her shoulder. Gently squeezing her skin in affirmation that he would be on the same side she decided to be on. - “whatever happened last night, was it genuine?”

“Yes,” she answered without any hesitation. It had to be.

Was it though? Was it truly sincere if she couldn’t remember half of what they’d done after his bedroom door closed?

“You know, I’m too old to still play around. I want something that lasts and - best case scenario here - it would involve waking up next to you like this every morning.”

“It has always been genuine,” she answered, leaning into his touch as his hand cradled her face. “It always will be genuine.”

Without another word, she pushed herself on her knees, leaning closer to him. Connecting their lips and making sure to think back on all the times she’d dreamed of this. It was all worth it in the end. All the pain and misery, it all lead back to them. It always would.

[biblical-chronicles]

Locked out

____________________________________________

where you lock yourself out of your hotel room and end up in Noel's.

[18+ !!!] [enemies to lovers]

____________________________________________

The job had its perks. Traveling the world, working with some of the biggest gigs, free booze—Oasis had money to burn, after all. But there was one massive, massive downside.

Noel fucking Gallagher.

It wasn’t just that he was a sarcastic, self-important, grumpy bastard (which he absolutely was). It wasn’t even that he always had some smart-arse comment locked and loaded, ready to wind you up. It was the fact that he seemed to enjoy it, like taking the piss out of you was a personal hobby.

The lads had clocked it ages ago.

"How old are you two, seriously?" Guigs had said just the other night, shaking his head as you and Noel argued over god knows what. "You’re worse than me Nan and Grandad, swear down."

"Yeah, the sexual tension’s killin’ me," Bonehead had added, smirking as he took a drag from his cigarette.

Noel had scoffed, shaking his head. "Fucking hell, mate. I’d sooner shag the local nitty than deal with this one."

You flipped him off, unfazed. "Oh, yeah? I bet the nitty would be the one having to get tested after that, dickhead."

It was constant, this back-and-forth, from the moment you woke up to the second you clocked out. Noel loved to threaten to fire you at least once a day, always with the same lazy reasoning.

"Should’ve sacked you ages ago," he’d mutter, watching you tune his guitar before a gig. "Only reason you’re still ‘ere is ‘cause I can’t be arsed teachin’ some other muppet how I like it."

"Yeah, yeah," you’d reply, never looking up. "Don’t do me any favors, Gallagher."

And so it went.

Now, though, none of that mattered. Not the bickering, not the jabs. Because right now? You were stood in the dimly lit hotel lobby, staring at a handwritten sign that might as well have been a death sentence.

"LOBBY CLOSED. OPERATING HOURS: 6 AM - 12 PM."

"Fucking great," you muttered, running a hand down your face.

It had been a long day, and all you wanted was a shower, a bed, and maybe a few hours of peace before having to deal with Noel’s bullshit all over again tomorrow. But no, instead, you had to stand here like a mug because somehow, in your exhaustion, you’d managed to lock yourself out of your room.

Just as you were debating whether you could break into your own room with sheer willpower alone, the sound of footsteps echoed through the lobby.

And just like fucking clockwork—

"Eh?"

You knew that voice.

"Did you get lost, or what?"

You shut your eyes for a brief moment, praying for strength, then turned to see Noel strolling in through the revolving door.

He was still dressed from wherever the fuck he’d been; jeans, adidas trainers, a zip-up jacket with the collar popped just enough to make him look like he was about to sell you dodgy gear in a car park.

You gritted your teeth. "Fuck off, Noel."

His smirk widened, slow and knowing. "Ohh, someone’s touchy."

You turned back to the desk, hoping he’d get bored and leave. No such luck. He sauntered up beside you, eyes flicking to the sign before back to you.

Realization dawned, and then he just laughed.

"No." He pointed at you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his luck. "No fuckin’ way. You locked yourself out, didn’t you?"

You glared at him, crossing your arms. "No."

He raised an eyebrow, amused.

You exhaled sharply. "Okay, maybe, and no one is even here! How is a lobby not 24/7?"

"And you didn’t take your key, and you didn’t check the sign first," he said, as if reading from a list of your stupid decisions. "Jesus Christ, love. That’s incredible."

You scowled. "Piss off."

Noel, clearly enjoying himself, leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling with pure delight. "Me? Oh, nah. I think I’ll stick around, actually. This is too fuckin’ good."

You groaned. "Go to bed, Noel."

"Bed?" He feigned a yawn, stretching his arms dramatically. "Oh, yeah. That’s right. I can go to bed. Because I have access to me own fuckin’ room."

You clenched your fists. "I have a backstage pass. I’ll just sleep in the tour bus."

Noel snorted. "Yeah? Or on one of them couches over there?" He gestured vaguely to the dimly lit lobby seating area. "Might be comfy, if no one nicks your shite first."

You stilled.

He grinned. "Ohh, right. Didn’t think about that, did ya?"

You huffed. "Fuck."

Noel pressed a hand to his chest in mock sympathy. "Tragic, really." Then, after a beat, "... Guess you’re stuck here then."

You gave him a flat look. "Guess so."

He smirked, clearly waiting for you to crack.

Which is why it pained you—physically—when you exhaled and muttered, "Or… I could stay in yours. Just ‘til the desk opens."

Noel blinked. "Oh?"

You clenched your jaw. "So no one nicks me shite."

His smirk returned, slow and victorious. "Yeah, yeah. ‘Course. Wouldn’t want anyone robbin’ your precious little pass, would we?"

You resisted the urge to deck him.

"Alright then," he said, turning toward the lifts, his voice filled with pure satisfaction. "C’mon, roomie."

You glared at his back as you followed him down the corridors.

Noel shut the door behind him and turned to face you, arms crossed, an insufferable smirk plastered across his face.

"Well, well," he said, leaning back against the door. "Never thought I’d see the day you begged to stay in me room."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you dropped your bag by the chair. "Begged? Fuck off, Noel. I suggested it ‘cause I had no choice."

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Ahh, see, that’s where you’re wrong, love. You had a choice." He gestured vaguely toward the lobby. "Could’ve stayed down there, kept them couches company."

"And let some knobhead nick me pass? Yeah, right." You crossed your arms. "This is just survival, mate. Has nothing to do with you."

His smirk widened. "Yeah? Then why’re you lookin’ at me like that?"

You blinked. "Like what?"

Noel tilted his head, eyes sweeping over you, unreadable. "Like you wanna throttle me."

You huffed, exasperated. "That’s just me natural state when you’re around, Gallagher."

"Ahh." He grinned. "See, I knew you liked me."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Like you? Jesus, Noel, I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire."

His grin didn’t falter. In fact, it only grew.

"Yeah? Funny," he mused, stepping closer, voice low, lazy. "‘Cause you’re still ‘ere, ain’t ya?"

You swallowed but held your ground. "I don’t have a room, Noel."

He hummed, nodding slowly. "Right, yeah. That’s why you’re ‘ere. Not ‘cause you wanna get me alone, see what all the fuss is about."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You are so full of yourself."

He gave you a slow once-over, something dark and knowing flickering in his gaze. "Yeah?"

You inhaled sharply, blood running hot. "Fuck you."

Noel’s smirk twitched—almost like he’d been waiting for you to say that.

"Ohh, wouldn’t you like that?"

The air shifted.

You were on him before you could think, hands grabbing at his shirt, pulling him down, crashing your mouth against his.

Noel barely had a second to react before he was pushing back, hands gripping your waist, shoving you up against the nearest wall. The impact sent a lamp wobbling on the bedside table, the dull thud of your back against the wall swallowed by the sound of both your ragged breaths.

His lips were warm, rough, demanding. His fingers dug into your waist, like he needed to anchor himself.

You bit his bottom lip, hard, just to be a dickhead.

Noel groaned against your mouth, grip tightening. "Oh, you wanna play it like that, do ya?"

Before you could smirk, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them against the wall, pressing in, chest flush against yours.

You yanked a hand free, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just to make him groan—and when he did, when his breath stuttered, you felt it everywhere.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered against your lips.

You smirked. "What’s wrong, Gallagher?" you breathed, voice teasing, drunk on the power shift. "Thought you could handle me?"

Noel laughed. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw, "I could ruin you."

Your stomach dropped.

You clenched your jaw. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your grip tightened in his hair again, yanking his head back just enough to make him hiss. His smirk didn’t falter, though—if anything, it widened, smug and infuriating.

"You arrogant twat," you breathed, dragging your nails down the back of his neck. "Think you’re some fuckin’ god, don’t ya?"

Noel chuckled—dark, low. "Please, love," he murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "You’ve been gaggin’ for this since the day we met. Don’t pretend otherwise."

Your teeth gritted. "You’re deluded."

"Yeah?" He stepped closer, the heat of him pressing against you, trapping you between his body and the wall. "Then why ain’t you pushin’ me away?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt before you even realized it, and that was all it took.

One second, you were glaring up at him, seething, and the next—you were airborne.

A breathless gasp tore from your throat as he threw you onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath the sudden force of your body. Before you could even scramble upright, he was on you—knees bracketing your hips, hands gripping your wrists, pressing them into the sheets.

"You bastard—"

A sharp smack landed on your thigh, jolting you, heat blooming where his palm connected.

You froze.

Noel grinned. "What was that, sweetheart?"

Your breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him. You hated the way your body betrayed you—the way your back arched, the way your thighs instinctively clenched together at the sting of his hand.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His smirk deepened. "Ohhh, that’s what you like, is it?" Another sharp slap—same spot, same deliberate pressure, just enough to make you jolt. "That why you’ve been windin’ me up all this time? Hopin’ I’d do this?"

You bit back a gasp as his teeth grazed your jaw, lips teasing over the heated skin just below your ear, fingers tightening where he held you down.

"You gonna let me go, or you just gonna sit here runnin’ your gob all night?" you shot back, arching up slightly beneath him, trying to gain some kind of control back.

Noel laughed, a little breathless. "Oh, you love this, don’t ya?" His hands shifted, releasing your wrists just to drag down your arms, over your waist, gripping your hips hard. "All that fight, all that fuckin’ attitude—"

"You love it," you shot back, daring.

Something snapped behind his eyes.

Before you could say another word, his mouth crashed against yours again.

It was all teeth, all tension, years of resentment and frustration and something else entirely spilling out between you.

You clawed at him in return, nails dragging up his back, yanking at his hair, swallowing the groan that tore from his throat.

"Still wanna tell me to fuck off, love?" Noel rasped against your lips, breath uneven.

Your fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him back down. "Shut up." you muttered, crashing your mouth against his again.

He barely hesitated before paying you back, fisting a hand into your hair and pulling your head back, exposing the curve of your throat. His mouth was on you in an instant, hot and open, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he muttered, voice thick with something triumphant. "Knew you’d be like this—mouthy little thing until you’re under me."

"And yet again, shut it." you snapped, even as your back arched, chasing the feel of him.

He laughed, breathless and sharp, his free hand sliding down to your thigh, gripping hard. Without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach, pressing you down against the mattress with the weight of him. You let out a sound somewhere between frustration and something else entirely, but any protest died in your throat when his hand slapped against your arse, the sting shooting straight through you.

"That shut you up quick, didn’t it?" he murmured, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

You tried to glare at him over your shoulder, but the effect was ruined by the way your breath hitched when he did it again, the sharp slap sending heat curling low in your stomach.

"Say it," he taunted, his grip tightening on your hip. "Say you want me."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But Noel was nothing if not persistent. His hand slid lower, teasing, just enough to make you squirm beneath him. His teeth grazed your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. "C’mon, sweetheart. We both know you do."

Your pride was a stubborn thing, but your body was a traitor.

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze, eyes dark with something heady and reckless. "Go on, then," you breathed. "Do your worst."

His fingers dug into your hips as he dragged you back against him, his grip bruising, possessive. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before his teeth found your shoulder again, biting down just enough to make you jolt beneath him. He groaned at the way you twitched, how your body betrayed that last shred of resistance you were so desperately clinging to.

"That’s more like it," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with amusement. "Knew you just needed someone to put you in your place."

You scoffed, even as your breath came quicker. "You think that’s you?"

He laughed. "Oh, love," he murmured, dragging his mouth up the side of your neck, "I know it is."

His hands slid lower, mapping the shape of you, fingers pressing into every curve like he wanted to commit it to memory. He moved with a slow, deliberate kind of cruelty, reveling in every shudder, every little sound you didn’t mean to make. You clenched your jaw, still stubborn, but it only made him smirk against your skin.

"Still holding out on me?" he whispered, lips brushing your ear. "Let’s see how long that lasts."

Then his hands gripped tighter, and he moved—a slow, devastating roll of his hips that had you sucking in a sharp breath. You felt the shape of him pressed firmly against you, the sheer heat of him burning through the layers between you both.

And then, just to be cruel, he stilled.

You let out an involuntary sound of frustration, which only made his grin widen. "Oh, what’s that?" he teased, rolling his hips just slightly, barely giving you anything. "Getting impatient, are we?"

You gritted your teeth, refusing to play into it.

His breath ghosted over your ear, smug and infuriating. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?" His hand slid down, teasing at the edge of your waistband, making heat curl low in your stomach. "Or am I gonna have to make you say it?"

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body alive, burning with the heat of him. Your pride screamed at you to hold out just a little longer, to refuse him one last time.

But then he rocked against you again, the friction sending sparks up your spine, and every ounce of stubbornness melted right out of you.

"Fuck," you muttered, barely more than a breath. "Please."

Noel chuckled, dragging his lips over your shoulder. "There she is."

The moment that single word fell from your lips, his control snapped. His fingers curled into the waistband of your clothes, yanking them down with a rough impatience that sent a shiver racing through you. His trousers quickly followed, ending up in a pile on the floor.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as he pressed against you again, now with nothing between you. The heat of him, how hard he already was, it made your stomach twist in anticipation. But instead of giving you what you were desperate for, he dragged the moment out, hands roaming over your bare skin, taking his time.

"You feel that?" he murmured, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the full length of him pressing against you, the slow friction making your breath catch. "That’s what you’ve been fighting, sweetheart. Tell me—was it worth it?"

You barely had time to shudder before he reached back, guiding himself against you, teasing, just barely pressing in before retreating again.

You shifted, pushing back against him, but his grip tightened immediately, holding you in place. "Ah, ah," he taunted, fingers still digging into your hips. "You finally beg for it, and now you think you’re in charge?"

You opened your mouth to snap something back—maybe something sharp, maybe something desperate, you weren’t even sure—but before you could, he thrust inside you in one smooth, deep motion.

The air left your lungs in a sharp, broken gasp.

"There you go." he muttered, his voice a little rougher now.

He barely gave you a moment to adjust before he set a brutal pace, dragging out only to slam back in, the force of it driving you further into the mattress. The sounds of skin against skin, breathless, ragged gasps, and the creak of the bed quickly were the only things filling the space between you.

You fisted the sheets, struggling to hold onto even a shred of composure, but Noel was relentless. His fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your head back slightly. "Listen to yourself" he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "Tried so hard to act like you didn’t want this. And now you’re dripping for me."

The humiliation only made the heat in your belly coil tighter.

As if sensing it, Noel let out a low chuckle. "You like that, don’t you?" He drove into you harder, just to hear the little choked noise that escaped your throat. "Fuck, you’re taking me so well."

His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive spot between your legs. The second he touched you, you clenched harder around him, and Noel groaned, sending a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.

"Shit," Noel rasped, his pace stuttering for half a second before he caught himself. "Filthy fuckin’ thing, aren’t you?"

His grip on your hips was bruising, each snap of his hips knocking you further into the mattress, dragging another broken sound from your throat. You couldn’t even think, couldn’t do anything but take it, your body molded to his will, wrecked under the sheer force of him.

And he knew it.

"Where’s all that attitude now, huh?" His voice was tinged with mockery, as his hand smoothed up the curve of your spine, just for a moment, just long enough to make you think he might show some mercy.

Then he fisted his hand into your hair and yanked.

A sharp gasp ripped from your lips as your head was wrenched back, the burn at your scalp sending a jolt straight through you. Your back arched instinctively, pressing you closer against him, the new angle making you whimper.

"That’s more like it," Noel murmured, his grip in your hair tightening as he used it to pull you back against him, making you feel every inch of him sinking even deeper.

His other hand slid up your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your pulse hammer under his touch.

"You like when I handle you like this, don’t you?" he muttered, voice a low rasp against your ear.

He loosened his grip on your throat just enough for you to speak, but your words failed you. All you could do was let out a broken, pleading sound.

Noel groaned, his fingers flexing around your throat like he felt the way you clenched around him. "Fuck, you’re gonna make me come just with these sweet desperate moans love."

He wrenched your head back a bit further, forcing your spine into a deeper arch, forcing you to take him exactly how he wanted. Every thrust was rough, deliberate, his hips slamming against you hard enough to bruise. Your body had no choice but to follow, every nerve ending alight, a coil of unbearable tension winding tighter and tighter in your core.

"No more remarks? No more telling me to fuck off?" he taunted, breath hot against your cheek.

Your fingers scrambled for purchase against the sheets, your mind a haze of pleasure and frustration. You wanted to say something, wanted to bite back just to spite him, but he was wrecking you, and you could barely form a single coherent thought.

So instead, you just whimpered his name.

"Fuck, that’s it," he rasped, voice wrecked. "You gonna come for me, sweetheart? You gonna fall apart just like this, with my cock buried inside you?"

His fingers dipped lower again, rubbing against your clit in tight, unrelenting circles, the pace of his thrusts turning ragged, desperate. The coil inside you twisted tighter, pleasure crashing over you in waves until you could barely breathe.

"You close?" he taunted, yanking your head back again, making sure you felt every single inch of him. "I can feel it, sweetheart, feel you gripping me so fuckin’ tight. Just let go. Come for me."

Your body locked up, pleasure blinding, white-hot and overwhelming as it crashed over you in wave after wave. You were dimly aware of your own broken cries, of the way your walls clenched around him like a vice, but nothing existed beyond the pure bliss of it.

Noel groaned, voice strangled, as he fucked you through it, dragging out every last shudder, his pace turning frantic. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips slamming against yours one last time before he buried himself deep with a low, wrecked curse.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sharp, uneven rhythm of your breathing.

Noel was still draped over you, his weight grounding, his skin hot where it pressed against yours. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. It was like neither of you wanted to be the first to break whatever fragile thing had settled between you.

Eventually, he exhaled, a deep, satisfied sound, before rolling onto his side, taking you with him. His arm hooked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his chest rising and falling against your back.

"Well," he murmured, voice hoarse, teasing, but softer than before. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You huffed a breath, still too dazed to formulate a proper response. He felt the way you relaxed against him, how you didn’t immediately shove him away.

A quiet beat passed before he spoke again, voice low but sincere.

"Didn’t think you’d actually let me touch you like that."

You hesitated, your fingers idly tracing over his forearm where it rested against your stomach. "Didn’t think I’d want you to," you admitted.

He made a sound—half amusement, half something thoughtful. "And now?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the question.

There was no point in denying it, not now.

"I do want you to now, but you’re still a mug." you muttered.

Noel chuckled, low and lazy, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your shoulder.

You turned slightly in his hold, just enough to meet his gaze. He was already watching you, eyes half-lidded.

"Maybe we should stop pretending we hate each other," you said, voice softer now, more thoughtful.

Noel’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Oh, love," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering at your cheek. "I never hated you."

Your heart stumbled.

He let the words settle, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw, before he smirked. "Just really, really wanted to shut you up."

You rolled your eyes, but the bite was gone, replaced by something warm. "And what do you want now?"

His expression turned serious—just for a second. Then, he tugged you closer, pressing his mouth against yours, slow and lingering.

"You," he murmured against your lips. "Think I always have."

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oh who doesn't love some slight enemies to lovers, thanks to whoever suggested this xx

[frosan43]

was sketchin my favourite photoshoot of them. the point of it is still a mystery to me but they r very cute yea..