#his name is noel fielding

[mollymarymarie]

Series 12 will always be my favorite season of Bake Off. You mean to tell ME we were blessed with Chigs, Crystelle, Jurgen, Giuseppe, George, Rochica, Freya AND MOST IMPORTANTLY LIZZIE ALL IN ONE TENT???

The moment Lizzie said "I'm gonna stare him down" in her Scouse accent, I was immediately in love.

[surpriserose]

Insane how much more likable the cast of the bakeoff professionals spinoff is like!!! Theyre kinder theyre funnier they have more chemistry and charisma and they give better and more constructive criticism like can we please swap the cast and get these presenters and judges on the main show!!!

[neeeooon]

haii!! Can I request how the bllk boys would react if reader was INSANELY good at soccer but ‘wasted their talent’ bc they never rlly found the time to play??

(characters: Isagi, Rin, Bachira, Noel, Aiku + whoever u want!!)

yess thank you for the request!!

when you “wasted” your soccer talent

bf bllk x gn!reader who play(ed)s soccer. cw: slight angst, some may be ooc

isagi yoichi

-> he’s personally offended that anyone would waste such potential, but it hurts more because it’s you

-> “i have work,” “i’m too busy today,” “you go ahead, i’ll be here when you get back.” all isagi heard were excuses. he’d seen you play. he knew how good you were

-> when he caught you watching soccer reels on your phone with a longing look in your eyes, he decided enough was enough. “okay! time to get up, y/n.” “get up where?” “to the field with me.”

-> you were hesitant and tried to back out the entire way there, but once you stepped onto the field, you felt like you were finally able to breathe freely

-> though you weren’t nearly as good as you once were, you had fun out there with your boyfriend. maybe you’d join him every now and again, for his benefit.. :)

itoshi rin

-> you didn’t make the cut for your dream team because you’d been too busy with exams to perfect your play, and it killed your passion. never mind that you got accepted into four other renounced soccer programs, if your top didn’t want you, soccer was pointless

-> and that mindset really bothered rin when you finally told him why you stopped playing

-> “why are you getting upset? you of all people know that if you aren’t the best, you’re nothing.” you didn’t mean it as an insult to him, but he still looked a bit taken aback by your words

-> shaking it off, rin tossed the soccer ball into the air as he spoke. “i want you to practice with me again. just this once.” “i don’t know…” “just once.” “… okay, fine.”

-> it wasn’t the same. you knew it, he knew it, and if anyone else was in there watching you, they knew it too. but, you felt proud of rin as you watched him score goals that would have been difficult for you, even at your best

bachira meguru

-> you stopped playing soccer when your parents asked you to help them run the family shop, and you never planned to touch a hall again until bachira stumbled into your store (and your heart)

-> practicing with him brought a small spark of the love back, but you were too rusty from the first time you quit and didn’t see a point in returning to play professionally

-> “wow, y/n! you’re improving really fast!” bachira complimented when you almost stole the ball from him dribbling feet. you waved him off, a bit embarrassed since you never used to struggle with a simple steal

-> bachira is a bit sad when he finds out that you were actually on a soccer team, a good one at that, and never told him. “i don’t play like that anymore,” you explained in a soft voice. “the only reason i’m playing at all is for you. so i can help you improve.”

-> the day he got into blue lock was one of the best of your life, even though you knew you’d never get an invite like that. you knew he could do it for the both of you

noel noa

-> you wanted to play soccer, and you were good at it, but when you were forced between sports and education, you picked your degree

-> while you don’t regret your decision, it’s bittersweet watching your boyfriend play on the television. in person. surrounded by people wearing his name on their jerseys

-> when you’re together, you try to avoid discussing soccer, since you know it’s a topic he’s still sensitive about on your behalf

-> “i don’t see why you couldn’t do both. get your degree while on a soccer scholarship.” “you know why. i’m not a person who can split my attention like that. if i focus on something, i have to give it my all.” “still.”

-> you still play with him to keep yourself active, but that’s it. you aren’t making any genius plays or straining your body to make impossible shots, and you’re okay with that, even if noel will never completely understand

oliver aiku

-> you chose to prioritize your youth over your practice time, and it bit you back when you got kicked off the team for arriving late and skipping lessons

-> oliver’s whole thing is about helping to nurture and grow a striker, and when he saw old clips of you playing, he had hopes of bringing you in to play with him. until hearing that you’d stopped years ago

-> “why don’t you try again?” he tries for the fifth time, your already thin patience crumbling. “oliver, i’m not good anymore. i stopped playing years ago. it’s not like riding a bike.” “why would you waste such talent? you could have been great.”

-> and that hurt, because you could have been. you could have been world famous if you’d continued to practice and prioritize soccer, but you didn’t. and while you don’t completely regret choosing to have fun, you wished you’d continued to play

-> “what’s done is done. i don’t want to talk soccer with you anymore.” “fine.” “fine.”

[tabiito]

DEBÍ TIRAR MÁS FOTOS II — hard launching with the blue lock boys after a rumour includes: isagi, barou and nagi read part 1 note: chat it's actually oliver who's the close source for barou

Shouei Barou, who's offended that he's linked with anyone other than you

You can hear Barou's disgruntled "The fuck?", as you're towelling yourself dry in the bathroom. Since there are a million things on God's green Earth that could elicit such a reaction from your neurotic boyfriend (including the state of the bathroom right now, with your various cosmetic products strewn about the place), you don't pay him much mind and go about your merry business.

That is, until you barely have half a second to cover yourself when he dramatically throws the door open and shoves his phone in your face. Shrieking, you attempt to push him out, but thanks to him being built like a brick wall, he doesn't budge.

"Have you seen this drivel?", he seethes, as you sigh, grabbing his phone and scanning the headline that was beginning to catch the eyes of the internet. Your lips curl upward, amused at how you'd and the entire team had been conveniently cropped out of the photo, focusing only on Barou and the lovely girl you'd met while picking him up from work.

"And?", you prompt, taking this less seriously than he is. "How could they even think of launching me with someone other than you?", he rages, feeling personally wronged as though they'd posted him with Isagi rather than a model was very clearly taken. You do a double-take at his words, feeling a soft smile creep up your face at his words, contrasting it with his furious expression.

The decision to keep your relationship private hadn't been one you had consciously taken; the nature of your public oriented careers had made the both of you discreet individuals when it came to your private lives. Perhaps you had done too good of a job sneaking around, since Barou, who solely alternates between training, matches, and his apartment caught a rumour in the rare time he'd been dragged along for a quick breakfast by the staff.

Barou fumes on about how you were the only person worth his "royal time" and other schizophrenic ramblings about the monarchy you'd wish he leaves on the pitch sometimes. The paws of his grubby agent are all over this; the man was constantly begging Barou to develop a more "family friendly" and "relatable" image in the name of PR. Glancing at your softened expression, Barou can't help the wicked smirk that crosses his face as he fishes his phone out of your hands.

If his agent wanted PR, he'll give it to him.

Yoichi Isagi, who can't help but exhibit strategic brilliance both on and off the field

Isagi's contract negotiations with BM were a little tense this time around. Sure, he was indebted to the club that had cultivated him since he was a young prodigy fresh out of Blue Lock, but in his prime, the German squad, now with Noel just as a coach couldn't quite match his style of play to the level he liked. So naturally, when the superstars of Madrid, where football legends are born, came calling, everyone expected him to instantly terminate his commitment and take the first flight to Spain.

Or so they thought. What they did not expect though, is for Isagi to hesitate, even slightly. Ever improving, adapting, constantly in search of more opportunities Isagi, for the first time, exhibited reluctance in his footballing career.

You thought it was absurd, though you certainly couldn't tell the man who was not his usual slur-shouting self, and instead emulating a rather tame house cat as he propped his laptop on his knees, head in your lap reviewing footage from his last match.

You tsk, pointing at the clear moment where he'd allowed Barcha to break through their defence.

"That should've been a clear red. Too bad the ref's been tapped since, like, forever," you shrugged, clicking your tongue. Isagi's eyes light up as you speak nodding along excitedly.

"Right? And I thought I was the only one! This new UEFA rule is so fuckin' stupid though, I swear that jackass was about to book me for arguing," he grouses, and you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips at the litany of profanity that seems to lace itself into Isagi's vocabulary whenever he talks about football.

"They completely narrowed the centre of the field for you guys. Forced you to pass wide and Schneider didn't even attempt to move forward. He could've completely shifted the midfield around," you add, and you notice Isagi furiously typing your words down.

As the child of a footballing icon, the sport's been in your blood since the very start. Though it wasn't in your fate to pursue it, you've always had a keen eye and an opinion that wasn't hampered by the yes-man group psychosis that inhabited a locker room, so it was only natural that Isagi would seek you out the first time you critiqued his trivela during training.

"Why are you typing all of this down?", you groan, tugging at his hair ever so slightly so he hisses in pain. "You won't need this for the next season," you grumble, and he snaps the laptop shut, flipping over so that he's looking at you with those stupidly large blue eyes of his.

You squint back down at him, sighing. "You need to sign that Madrid contract already. This is what you've been preparing for all your life," you say softly, as his fingers find yours, interlinking.

He grimaces, and you can see him internally tussling with his thoughts. His face has always had subtitles. "Yeah, but there's my whole life in Münich: you, the guys — "

You can't help but roll your eyes at his words, but also appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. "Please. You didn't bat an eyelid running into a mental facility for an unspecified amount of time without telling your parents to improve your game in Japan. I'm sure a two-hour flight distance is nothing for you."

He opens his mouth, but you interrupt him quickly.

"And don't tell me all of a sudden that you've developed an emotional attachment to Kaiser."

He slowly shuts it and you smirk in response.

"I'm going to be there with you every step of the way," you promise, and he simply flops back into your lap, inhaling your familiar fabric softener. "You've outgrown us now. You're meant for bigger things, Yoichi," you prod, and when he looks back up at you, you can see that he's made his decision.

Fast forward to the Champion's League final. You've put aside your petty irritation at the fake news an Instagram model decided to spread a day prior to the match by jumping on the clout bandwagon to finally make an actual appearance at one of Isagi's matches, much to the annoyance of your father.

You're seated on the opposite ends of where you usually sit, proudly sporting white and purple that clashes with the red and black that sneers at you from the BM stands, screaming Isagi's name til you go hoarse. You'd gotten some weird looks from those who knew of you, but you completely lost track as Madrid cooked Münich in a thrilling 90 minute rollercoaster. With Isagi proudly sporting the heavy champion's gold medal around his neck, you can't help yourself as he motions to you to join him on the field. Skipping over the barriers, he catches you in his arms, laughing ecstatically for thousands to see as confetti showers from above.

He wouldn't have made this move if it wasn't without your go-ahead, so he rightfully slides the medal of his neck, sliding it on you as you gape at him in awe. Snapping a quick picture, he posts his true appreciation for you much later into the night, when the music and crowd dies down and it's just him and his thoughts, laying any useless rumours to rest.

Nagi Seishiro, who's down a little too bad

Nagi's baffled at how you can sound so chirpy despite a 9-hour time difference over FaceTime. Along with the mechanics of Azir, your affinity for early mornings remains one of the great mysteries of the universe for Nagi.

As you ramble on about your day, along with your first professional game that you played as a part of Worlds qualifiers, Nagi finds himself being slowly lulled off to sleep. You couldn't possibly blame him, right? His bed was so inviting, and it was 1AM in London after all.

"Hey! You better be listening to me!", you protest, and Nagi's eyes flutter open, losing the warm embrace of sleep he was so desperately chasing.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, hmm I was," he sighs, rolling over in his bed. Somehow it was taking him much longer to fall asleep in an empty room.

"Really? What was the last thing I said?"

"Er. Something about trying a matcha latte," he mumbles, knowing he's skipped larger portions of the conversation. You, however, seem to have a worse short-term memory than him as you proceed to repeat the entire incident back to him. He doesn't particularly mind, considering the calming influence your voice has on him.

Once again, he's just about to fall into dreamland when you snap him back to reality.

"Your manager called me by the way. I haven't returned her call. Do you have any idea why?", you ask, and he hums. He does remember something she was ranting to him about during today's PR briefings.

"Uhh, I think it was about me being shipped with someone," he says, trying to recall the name. You blanche on camera, your eyes widening as he names some generically popular streamer who everyone in the world watches, but apparently Nagi watched with a special interest.

"What the fuck? How come they confused one of my lives with somebody else's?", you groan, as you scrolled through the hashtag that had already begun shipping Nagi and the other streamer together.

"Does it bother you?", Nagi asks simply, propping the camera up since he realises that he's not going to be in for much sleep tonight when you start reading out the comments that have flooded gossip pages across the net.

You pause mid-rant, choosing a minute to think. The first time you and Nagi had started talking, it was clear that this was going to be a private relationship. You were already an overworked E-sports player, and Nagi, a global footballing phenomenon, had initially taken to your streams to figure out some decent plays. The last thing you needed was the internet on your ass.

But this rumour in particular though, hit a little too close to home. You'd made it two years in without an inkling of suspicion for the both of you (even though you chose him in FIFA a little too much, and he'd accidentally made a half-body cameo in one of your streams when he walked in and picked up your cat), and at this point you'd rather have him linked to you than some streamer, who was, in reality in a very loving relationship.

"I guess. It's not like we can do anything without PR's approval, though," you say exasperatedly, and Nagi doesn't like the way your chirpy tone drops to a more flat and dull one.

"Ah, this is such a hassle. Hold on."

a/n tbh I'm not happy with how any of these turned out but something's better than nothing 😜😜😜

[chiasaaa]

— he just comes running over to me

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: in which, you watched sae play the champions league by the patron for the very first time.

warnings: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— for the longest time, sae had always seated you in the vip section to rid you the ever-annoying public eye. he knows how overwhelmed you can be in big crowds, especially when you become the center of attention, and so he prioritized your comfortability above all else whenever you watch his games. however, he has to admit that whenever he scores the winning goal or his team crushes their opponents, he finds himself lost in the celebration because his soul searches for you every single time.

you noticed how it affected him after several times of it happening, and it weighed heavily on you. you feel your heart pinch itself a little when you see sae looking around the field for you, then looking up to send you a smile rather than you tackling him in a congratulatory hug. he doesn’t say it, but you knew he envies seeing his teammates get hugged and kissed by their significant others after winning matches.

imagine the delight on his face when you specifically requested for him to seat you by the barrier, right where he can approach you anytime he wishes. it will, as always, be filled with the aggressive crowds that will certainly overstimulate you, but you didn’t care.

you wanted to do this for him—to make him feel what it’s like to win a match and finally have your arms be the first to greet him congratulations.

“are you sure you’ll be fine?” he asks again, helping you with your bag to put in the car. sae was delighted, sure, but he’s still concerned for you. it’s not like you to indulge the spotlight. heck, not even being a fashion designer makes you comfortable staying on it, yet there you were, doing it all for him.

as you settle in the driver’s seat, you turn to sae who climbed in the passenger and smiled reassuringly. “querido, i’m sure.” was all you said before planting a lingering peck on his lips.

he was excited, and the fact you’re there watching closely gave him all the energy he needed to play more than his best. everyone saw it. the crowd knew he was on a different level today with the way he calculated each and every play meticulously. the commentator saw it as they continuously commented on how he’s bringing the unexpected into the field by being the star of the show.

you saw it when he scored more than the two goals he usually allows himself to as a midfielder. itoshi sae was on a roll, and it was because of a simple change from your behavior. how he knew you did it for him and the way he didn’t want to let you down. he made sure your efforts were not for naught on this big day.

the champions league, his very first, and he played like he’s in competition against noel noa and julian loki combined.

“and itoshi sae takes the last ball home! madrid is this years champions league victors!”

the stadium erupted in vigorous and adrenaline-filled roars, cheering sae’s name for the entire world to know. yet, he didn’t care about all of it.

sae didn’t care about how his teammates began to run to his direction to celebrate their win. he didn’t care about his name being chanted by every person present. he didn’t care about the commentator reviewing his very last play.

no, all he cared about right now is that you were finally the first person his eyes found when he turned to the barrier—cheering for his success and enjoying the spectacular show he just put on for you.

the moment his feet touched the ground, itoshi sae ran past his teammates and opponents alike, rushing right towards you in a full sprint.

and before he knew it, he was caught between your sweet embrace, taking your lips in a passionate kiss that finally allowed him to feel like this win is worth celebrating.

[szarina]

cause these thoughts plague me.....

being a intern physiotherapist in one of the big leagues in europe where it produced numerous young football stars and being assigned to the two rumored rising superstars that will rock the football world. noel noa and ego jinpachi.

the names made your blood freeze and the murmurs of your fellow interns began to surface like cicadas after a season of being buried underground. whispers of how hard and intimidating the two is and you get a bunch of sympathetic looks.

“why does it looks like i'm heading for the gallows?”

is the first thought that entered your mind from the way they act. certainly it couldn't be that bad. you are yet to meet the two and you can't judge someone from some rumors about them. still, it doesn't make you feel better.

and you understand why they are like that. it would be a privilege to work for the two if you have the guts and you have but the moment you met them both. your stomach was churning from how nervous you are. they were every bit of what people had described them.

both above six foot, easily towering you with their heights. noel's piercing gaze that commanded his presence both in the field and in the room. ego's intense stare that you know he's definitely looking down at you.

the first days were difficult both have no words for you except for the introductions. they know they are the real deal and can't be bothered by someone that aren't on their level considering how clumsy you were on your first day when tasked with their well-being. not good for first impressions.

you later picked up your faults and made up for it. making sure you didn't overlook anything that will harm their health as an athlete. writing regimens and watching their games to observe and how to optimize their physical abilities.

post-check ups after every games and picking up injuries that may worsen if unnoticed. slowly it became something that you look forward too and you're not clamming up with the both of them and they began to talk to you.

noel and his short responses that made you feel appreciated. you and ego even had conversations about the logic of football. he was a huge fanatic and you like his passion for it.

you also got caught in the crossfire with their rivalry and how it was the opposite with the other and made no effort in meditating them. it's not like they've gotten physical over it and it was reserved for the field.

then, it turns to be something you didn't expect that rivalry over football isn't about it anymore and it was directed over you. you didn't grasped over the situation and it was subtle as it can be.

a pat on your shoulder or sometimes a squeeze. holding your back for more than a few seconds. you never really put anything special on that touch cause he's just noel right? and man doesn't even express anything besides the stoic look in his face similar to ego's gaunt look while you two watched the previous matches in the room.

you like the dynamic between them two. the amount of rivalry and respect for each other's abilities and it provides you a new perspective. however their rivalry seems to heighten these days, probably as the new season slowly emerges but it's another thing.

a kind of hunger for something else.

[celestialgallaghers]

Double Dare Ya pt 2 [18+]

Part 1

I’m sorry this took so long I kept changing my mind on where I wanted it to go. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: Still reeling from your encounter with Noel, you find yourself not wanting to see him again. That is, until you run into him in a place you really should've expected, now face to face with the memory that’s been haunting you.

Word count: 7.6k

You paced the length of your flat chewing at your thumbnail. You weren’t entirely sure why you felt this way. 

Well, maybe a little. 

Jo already knew, obviously. She’d guessed as much. But that wasn’t what had you on edge.

It was what came next.

She’d want to talk about it. Pick it apart. Ask you how you felt. And a week after the incident, you still didn’t have an answer.

What you did know was that you felt guilty. You’d been avoiding her calls for days and it was starting to weigh on you.

Soon after she’d caught you, she had her little “told you so” moment, but the second she started prying, you shut down. You’d barely been able to process it yourself, let alone talk about it. Instead, you mumbled a half assed promise to talk soon and basically ran all the way home without saying another word to anyone.

But now, after days of radio silence, you had no excuse.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the receiver and dialed her number. 

“Finally,” Jo answered on the first ring, exasperation evident. “I was about to send a search and rescue team to make sure you were still alive.”

You winced. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I should've called sooner, I just… didn’t really know what to say. And I still don’t, so don’t expect much,” you warned.

You could practically hear the smug smile in her voice as she waited for you to continue.

Then, a sudden realization struck, sending a wave of panic over you. You weren’t her only source of information in this situation. 

“You… uh, didn’t talk to him about this, did you” you asked hesitantly.

“Noel?” she half laughed. “No, I trust you way more to tell me the truth.”

Your pulse slowed, but only slightly. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

“But,” she continued, “I did see him briefly, a few hours after you left. Completely off his head with some other bird, doing god knows what.” She huffed. “Sorry.”

She added it as an afterthought, as if you’d be hurt by this information.

“No, no, it’s not like that at all,” you said quickly. “This was just a one time thing. I really couldn’t care less who he’s screwing.”

It was easier that way. Knowing it wasn’t a big deal to him. And yet, somewhere deep in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of something that you didn’t want to name. It was quickly smothered.

“I think I just want to put the whole thing behind me,” you said, hoping to make it sound final. “Chalk it up to a moment of weakness.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Really? Well that’s a shame. I think you two would get on well.”

You huffed out a laugh, trying hard to downplay her words. “I think I’ve had enough of your matchmaking, thanks.”

Silence stretched between you. She was obviously waiting for you to continue.

You twirled the phone cord between your fingers anxiously. “So, um, I guess you already know what happened, but I don’t really know where to start and I know you have questions so—”

“You sucked him off, right?” she cut in bluntly.

You choked. “Well, no, I—”

She gasped. “Oh my God, you fucked him? Right in that dirty field? You little slut!”

“Christ, let me finish,” you groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I just gave him a handy. That’s all.”

God, what was happening? You weren’t a prude by any means, but just saying the words out loud made your face burn like you were confessing some deep, filthy secret.

“Oh, that’s all is it?” she teased, amused by your flusteredness. “Must not have been a good one if he was fishing for more after.”

“Oh, shut up,” you shot back. “It was good enough.”

“Was it?” she prodded, clearly fishing for more.

You hesitated. “Yes it was.”

Flashes of Noel’s trembling body beneath you surfaced in your mind, unbidden. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.

“And that’s all you’re getting,” you added firmly.

She tsked. “What’s the point of having girlfriends if we can’t talk about how men are in the sack?”

You sighed. “This is different, and you know it. He’s… well, him. And you’re friends with him too. It doesn’t feel right.”

And while you knew Noel didn’t exactly shy away from bragging about his sex romps, something told you that whatever happened in that field wasn’t exactly routine for him. Or at least you thought so. Although you could be entirely wrong. You barely knew him for fucks sake. 

Either way, the idea of sharing the details didn’t sit right with you. Jo could keep a secret, sure. But still… you didn’t want to tell her.

“Then what’s the point of even calling me?” she grumbled.

“Fine,” you huffed. You had to placate her in some way. “All you’re getting is that he’s a good kisser. Spread the word I’m sure it’d inflate his ego even more,” you said dryly.

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. D’you think you want to see him again?”

You bit your lip. You didn’t really know the answer to that. 

The logical answer was no. You should avoid him. Avoid every place he might be. The idea of facing him again made your stomach churn. Would it be awkward? Would he act smug about it? Or worse, would he brush it off completely?

And yet another part of you was saying yes. Because what if he wanted more? The thought had never fully formed before now, but the moment it did, it burrowed deep. The whole thing had been amusing and incredibly filthy. 

But would he want it again?

Would you?

It seemed impossible. He was famous. He did this all the time, didn’t he? It was meaningless. That’s what you should believe.

And yet, that glimmer of vulnerability, of realness, it had enthralled you much more than you would've liked to admit. 

Not that you’d ever admit that to Jo.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…too confusing. Like I said, it was just a one time thing.”

She was quiet for a moment. Like she was holding back her disappointment. 

“Well, I’m not gonna force you,” she said, “but I think you should reconsider.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Jo.”

“All I’m saying is that you guys would—”

“Jo, I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait!” was all you heard before you slammed the phone back onto the receiver, exhaling sharply.

Fucking hell what had you gotten yourself into.

True to your word, you became hyper aware of everywhere you went. 

The city was massive yet it suddenly felt suffocating, like you were navigating a minefield. No matter how much you tried to avoid him, Oasis was inescapable. Their songs followed you into every shop, their faces stared back at you from every magazine stand. It was maddening. Everywhere you turned, there he was. A reminder of that night. It was like the universe was playing some cruel joke on you.

One night, you flicked on the telly only to be met with Noel’s face. He was on some late night interview show, sprawled lazily in his seat, exuding that signature self assurance. Your thumb hovered over the remote, hesitating. Watching him now, it almost felt like you knew something about him that no one else did. Because for all his bravado, for all his sharp words and easy smirks, he was actually quite malleable. Quick to break if you knew where to apply the right pressure. 

Then, as if on cue, he flashed the camera a crooked smile, and for a moment all you could think about were the broken moans that had fallen from that very mouth. The weight of him in your hand. The way he had unraveled beneath you. 

A flush of heat bloomed in your stomach, creeping lower before you could stop it. 

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, tossing it aside like it had burned you.

You needed to get a fucking grip.

Nights out had become a hassle too. 

Jo kept trying to drag you along, promising Noel wouldn’t be there, but you didn’t want to tempt fate. No matter how much you didn’t want to, you spent night after night in your flat, drinking alone, watching trashy TV with a scowl on your face. You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, but it needed to blow over before you were less on edge. 

Yesterday, though, Jo had finally lost her patience.

“I don’t understand what’s so bad about what happened that you won’t even face him. This is starting to get a bit ridiculous. You're gonna have to come out of hiding at some point.”

She was right of course. What was so bad about it? You were starting to feel too much like a coward. 

Her words still rang in your mind tonight. And after one too many glasses of wine, irritation was starting to creep in.

Why the hell were you letting him dictate your life like this? You’d spent weeks holed up like some estranged recluse, avoiding places you used to love. And for what? Noel fucking Gallagher?

It was pathetic really. And you were over it. 

Before you could overthink it, you were rifling through your closet, yanking out the most flattering dress you owned. Twenty minutes later, you were out on the streets, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Like shedding an old skin. A rebirth. A good fuck would be just the thing to snap you out of this.

You hadn’t even registered where your feet were taking you until you found yourself outside the same club where this whole mess with Noel had started. 

Well. If there was ever a place to begin again, this was as good as any.

The fleeting thought that he might be inside entered your mind, but you ignored it. You were too determined to care. And besides fuck him. You didn’t owe him anything.

It didn’t take long before a man approached you. He was attractive enough, at least for what you needed tonight. When he offered to buy you a drink, you let him. You laid it on thick. Laughing at his mediocre jokes, brushing your knees together, a coy smile curving your lips.

When he asked you to dance, you didn’t hesitate. This new version of you liked dancing. For a while, you let yourself melt into the music, let the bass vibrate through your bones, let the alcohol dull the edges of everything sharp.

His body was pressed against yours, radiating heat and hands roaming. It was making you feel alive. Letting yourself revel in the heady mix of sweat, liquor, and fleeting affection. It felt good. It felt easy. 

You were breathless and flushed, and when he leaned down and asked if you wanted to get out of there, you agreed without a second thought.

The two of you stumbled through the club, laughter bubbling in your throat as you leaned into him, ready to disappear into the night. But the moment shattered when you rounded the corner and collided heavily with another pair of bodies.

“Watch it, cunt,” he voice was sharp, impatient. Familiar.

Your stomach plummeted.

Noel.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt rooted to the spot. Your mind was suddenly infuriatingly blank. For all the time you’d spent avoiding him, you hadn’t once considered what you’d say if you actually saw him again.

For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Was he thinking the same thing? Or had you not even crossed his mind since that night?

“Sorry mate,” the man beside you muttered, breaking you out of your sudden trance. You’d nearly forgotten he was there. His arm slipped around your waist, and the touch suddenly felt like acid burning your skin. 

Noel’s gaze flicked down, tracking the movement. His jaw tightened just slightly, just enough for you to see it if you were looking. And you were looking.

You forced yourself to look elsewhere. That’s when you noticed he wasn’t alone. A brunette clung to him. Not the same one as last time, but close enough. 

Right. 

This was what he did. Moved from one woman to the next like it meant nothing.

Again the irritation flared hot in your chest. Now you remembered why you were avoiding him.

“Noel,” you greeted smoothly, summoning every ounce of detachment you had.

His lips curled into something smug, his usual arrogance snapping back into place. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, love.”

“Yeah, well,” you tilted your head, mirroring his smugness. “Let’s hope this is the last time.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes as his gaze dragged over you before flicking dismissively to the man at your side.

“Enjoy her, mate,” he said, voice light but laced with something else. “She’s a right good time.”

Then he winked at you and sauntered off, pulling his brunette along with him.

You exhaled sharply, tempted to grab the nearest object and hurl it at the back of his head. 

So that was it then.

“Was that Noel Gallagher?” The guy beside you squinted after him. “Do you know him?”

You clenched your jaw. “Not really.”

He studied you for a moment before adding, almost absently, “Y’know, you kinda look like that girl he was with.”

Something twisted violently inside you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?”

You ignored him. His voice sharpened behind you, something ugly creeping into his tone, but you didn’t stop. You just kept moving, his thick Mancunian accent you hadn’t noticed before faded into background noise.

This had been a stupid idea. A really, really stupid idea. 

Gripping the edges of the sink, you stared at yourself in the club’s bathroom mirror, swaying slightly. The fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows across your face, making you look as wrecked as you suddenly felt.

You exhaled hard, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. The night had gone sideways. Now you were just drunk and alone. Again.

You reckoned you should probably go home, but your limbs felt restless, skin too hot, mind buzzing with unspent frustration.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed open the door and stepped back into the hallway. 

As you passed the exit leading to the alley, your eyes caught on it for a moment.

What the hell might as well. It was hallowed ground now.

You pushed the door open, welcoming the rush of cool air. You had just wrapped your fingers around your pack when a voice cut through the quiet.

“Where’d your man go?”

You froze. 

No fucking way. 

Sure enough, Noel emerged from the shadows, cigarette perched between his lips, the ember casting a faint glow over his face.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to suppress the aggravation rising in your chest.

“Where’s your model?”

“Sent her home,” he replied easily, smoke curling from his lips.

You considered walking away. That would be the smart thing to do. You didn’t need to stand here and entertain his bullshit. But there was just enough alcohol in your system, just enough lingering frustration in your chest, to make you stay. To push back.

“Were you waiting out here for me?” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

A slow smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe.” He shrugged, taking another drag. “Thought it was worth a shot.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected him to be upfront about it.

Something about the way he said it so casually made it worse. Like he already knew you wouldn’t walk away. And you knew it too.

His gaze dragged down your body, eyes lingering in a way that sent a prickle of heat across your skin. 

“S’nice dress.”

“Thanks, I was dying for your approval,” you deadpanned.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, unfazed. “So, what brings you back here tonight?”

“Same thing as you, I presume.”

His brows lifted. “What, him?” He jerked his head toward the club. “C’mon. You can do much better than that.”

“Oh yeah? Like what, you?” you said, not even considering the implications until the words were out of your mouth. 

His grin widened, all teeth, all ego. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you said it. Not me.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “Jesus, do you ever stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Deflecting. Acting like nothing ever gets to you, you said, folding your arms. “Like you're untouchable.”

His smirk didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

“And what, you think you’ve got me all figured out, yeah?”

“I think you're exhausting.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, well. Can’t win ‘em all.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So that’s it? That’s the whole act?”

“Dunno what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” you pressed. "This little performance you put on is bullshit. You always go on about how real you are, but this—this is fake as fuck. And I can’t believe more people don’t see through it."

Something flashed in his gaze. It was subtle, but it was there. He took a slow drag, exhaling through his nose, like he was buying himself time.

“And what if there’s nothin’ to see through?” His voice was even, but there was an edge to it now. “What if this is just who I am? Arrogant cunt.”

You studied him, trying to pick apart the layers he kept so tightly wound. He was good at this. Keeping people at arm’s length, at never letting anyone see past the smirk.

But you'd seen something else.

You tilted your head slightly, voice quieter now. “No. I know that’s not entirely true.”

His amusement faltered, just slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I happened to really like the version of Noel I met in that field.”

His expression flickered again. And for the first time since this conversation started, he didn’t have a response ready.

His mouth opened slightly, then shut. He inhaled deeply, tapping ash from his cigarette, gaze flicking away for just a second.

“And which version was that?” His voice was different now. Lower. Cautious.

Your stomach flipped.

There were two versions, weren’t there? The one who had been laid back, at ease, warm in a way that had caught you off guard. And then the other one. The one who had let you undo him completely. The one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how hard you tried.

The silence between you was tight, buzzing. A question waiting to be answered.

You weren’t sure if he wanted to go there. If he wanted to acknowledge what had happened. Or if he’d rather let it fade into nothing.

There was really only one way to find out. 

You swallowed before speaking. “You know which one.” Your voice was lower now. Careful. Calculated. Just in case he chose to pretend he didn’t hear the subtext.

His gaze flitted away for the briefest moment, like he was considering his next move, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to acknowledge it. When he looked back at you, something in his expression had shifted. Less cocky, more guarded.

You grinned. “What? No witty comeback?” You stepped closer, emboldened by his silence. The longer he stayed quiet, the bigger your smile grew.

The cigarette between his fingers hung idly, forgotten. You reached out, plucking it from his hand before bringing it to your lips, dragging slowly. Your fingers barely brushed, but the contact sent a spark skittering up your arm.

He watched you silently, his expression unreadable. Even as you blew smoke directly into his face, he barely reacted. He just kept his eyes on you, like he was working something out in his head. 

Then, like he’d been holding it in for too long, he asked, “Why’d you run off?”

Now it was your turn to be thrown. You hadn’t expected him to confront you on that. 

Why had you run? Because staying had felt like stepping off a ledge. Because the weight of the moment had pressed too hard against your ribs, and the uncertainty had been suffocating. 

What would he have said afterward? Would he have just rolled over, lit a cigarette, and acted like it was nothing? The fear of the unknown had sent you running before he had the chance to make you regret staying.

But you weren’t about to tell him that.

You took another drag, letting the smoke linger in your lungs, buying yourself a few extra seconds before responding. 

“Look, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of groupies overstay their welcome. I just figured I’d make things easier for you by leaving before you had to ask me to, okay?”

He stared at you for a long moment. 

“I don’t think of you as a groupie,” he said finally.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you?”

He exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No groupies don’t usually make me work this hard.”

You raised a brow. “Is that what this is? Work?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering you. “Let’s just say you’re not making it easy for me.”

You weren’t sure why, but that response sent something sharp and unexpected through you. Maybe because it felt dangerously close to admitting something.

Silence settled between you, thick with something unspoken. The air between you had become charged and neither of you seemed to know where to go from here.

You took one final drag on his cigarette before flicking it away, the ember sparking briefly against the pavement.

At some point the space between you had shrunk, unconsciously drifting toward each other. It was like he had some sort of magnetic field that you’d gotten pulled into. And now you were now stuck in it. 

Your gaze lifted to his. He was already watching you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

You parted your lips slightly, but no words came out.

His gaze dipped to your mouth. Then back up. 

Your heart pounded.

Oh, fuck it. 

You closed the shrinking gap and kissed him.

He responded instantly. His hand slid to your back, pulling you against him, the heat of his body searing through the thin layers of fabric between you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and the noise it pulled from him, deep and needy, sent something sharp and electric surging through you.

He tasted just like you remembered. Or maybe better. Just as intoxicating, just as addictive.

At first he seemed tentative, unsure. But then he melted into it, kissing you back with a quiet urgency that made your knees weak.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he gasped against your lips.

Heat flared in your chest. And something else. Something akin to pride.

“Me either,” you admitted, voice just above a whisper.

You felt him smirk. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

You deepened the kiss, swallowing the groan that slipped from him. The sound sent a shiver straight through you, and fuck you wanted more of it. More of him.

You nipped at his lower lip just to hear him again. Another soft noise escaped him, and you drank it in greedily.

Now you knew. Knew where you could take him. And god you wanted to see it again.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your grip on his waist tightening. “Come back to mine.”

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face before you turned, making your way down the alley.

He followed.

The ride back to your flat had been…eventful. 

Noel had called his driver, and the two of you had slipped into the backseat, your legs brushing together. Neither of you spoke at first, but the silence was thick, pulsing with something electric, something inevitable.

Then his hand found your knee.

His touch was barely there, but you felt the weight of it hit you hard. A jolt of heat shot through you as he began rubbing small circles against you.

That was it.

Before you could stop yourself, you turned to him, capturing his mouth with yours in a kiss that sent him back against the seat.

He barely had a second to react before you were climbing into his lap, fingers diving into his hair. His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard. The feel of him beneath you again was dizzying, sending heat rushing straight to your core.

A low moan slipped from his throat as your weight settled over him. His fingers tightened, digging into your ass, pulling you flush against him. 

“This dress,” he groaned against your lips. “God.”

You smirked, lips brushing his as you teased, “You like it?”

His breath was ragged as he rasped, “So much.”

You leaned in, dragging open mouthed kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat. His skin was warm against your lips, his pulse wild. He shuddered when you reached the spot where his neck met his shoulder, grinning to yourself before biting down, just enough to make him gasp.

His grip on you tightened. His body tensed.

And then—

The car jerked to a stop, sending you both lurching forward.

You let out a quiet curse, quickly sliding off his lap as the driver cleared his throat from the front. 

Face burning, you smoothed down your dress, stealing a glance at Noel. He was still slumped back, breathing heavily, hair a mess, lips wet and parted.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark as they watched you.

Neither of you spoke as you stumbled out of the car and into your building, the silence thick with anticipation, charged with everything you hadn’t said.

Now, standing in the middle of your flat, the reality of the moment sank in. The mess you’d left behind suddenly felt glaring. Clothes draped over chairs, an empty wine glass perched precariously on the coffee table.

But Noel didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

His eyes were on you. Watching. Taking you in.

Then they lifted, met yours, and held.

“Hi,” you breathed, suddenly shy in a way that felt ridiculous after everything that had just happened.

“Hi,” he murmured back.

And then he was on you again, pulling you into a slow kiss. It was different from before. Less frantic, more controlled. Like he wanted to take his time.

You let him take the lead this time, curious to see where it would go.

He backed you against the wall, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, while the other found its way to your waist. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss, tongue brushing over yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

He seemed much less overwhelmed this time. More sure of himself. And, god, it was sexy.

Not that the other version of him wasn’t, but you were beginning to understand why he had a reputation for this. 

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. “So… is this your move then?” you teased, though your voice was slightly uneven.

His lips ghosted over your jaw as he hummed, “What move would that be, love?”

You swallowed, heartbeat unsteady. “Oh, come on. You know. The one that drives all the girls mad with desire.” You tried to sound mocking, but it barely landed.

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Depends.” His thumb stroked idly along your cheek. “Do you feel mad with desire?”

Your pulse stuttered. You hated how good he was at this.

“I bet you’d just love for me to say yes, wouldn’t you?” you challenged.

“You will,” he said, completely self assured.

Then, he dipped his head, lips grazing over the curve of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing as he found a particularly sensitive spot. He lingered there, lips warm, tongue darting out just slightly. Testing. Teasing.

You could feel his smirk against your skin.

And then he bit down. Not hard, but just enough. Enough to send a shock straight through you.

A strangled sound tore from your throat before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, a smug look settling on his face.

“Bastard,” you muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

He only grinned, unbothered, before moving to the other side of your neck, continuing his slow, torturous assault.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another noise. But then, one particularly well placed kiss just below your ear had a soft whine slipping out before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back again, eyes dark, lips wet.

“Feeling mad yet?”

You exhaled sharply, realization hitting you. This was payback. For last time. You were going to have to admit to something if this was going to continue. And god you wanted it to continue. 

“Absolutely barmy,” you muttered, conceding just this once.

His smirk widened before his lips crashed onto yours again, this time with a heated urgency that made you lightheaded. Your hands roamed him, desperate to feel as much as you could.

You weren’t sure how this would end, but right now you didn’t care. You just wanted more.

You pulled him toward your bed, kicking off your shoes, heat pooling low in your stomach as he pressed his body flush against yours. His breath was heavy, lips brushing along your jaw as his hands skimmed down your sides.

He exhaled a quiet laugh. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about touching you. You didn’t let me get a turn last time.”

Your stomach tightened, heat licking up your spine. You tilted your head, lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Then you’d better make the most of it, yeah?”

A low sound rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you back onto the mattress, covering you with his body. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his gaze dark and searching.

“You always such a tease?” His voice was low, almost accusing.

You smirked, fingers threading through his hair. “You always so easy?”

For a moment, you let yourself soak in the weight of him, the heat rolling off his skin, the way his breathing had shifted. Then, with a slow grin, you brought your leg up to hook around him, flipping him onto his back and straddling his hips.

A surprised sound escaped him, low and unguarded. His hands instinctively found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. The shift left only the thin barrier of your underwear between your aching core and the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a delicious shiver up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

Noel shuddered beneath you. For a moment you wondered if he wasn’t comfortable with this dynamic again. But when you met his gaze, you searched his eyes for any hint. There was no sign of hesitation, no resistance. Just raw, unfiltered desire. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat surging through you. 

You leaned down, pressing slow kisses along his jaw, trailing down his neck as your fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt. When it fell open, you let your nails drag lightly up his chest, reveling in the way his breath stuttered.

Then, unable to help yourself, you brushed a thumb over one of his nipples just to see what he’d do.

A strangled groan tore from his throat, his head tipping back against the pillows. The sound, deep and wrecked, sent a sharp pulse straight between your legs.

You were mesmerized. You needed to hear more. You moved to the other, teasing it with the same deliberate touch.

This time, the noise that left him was broken, raw, coming from somewhere deep inside him. The sound sent sharp heat twisting through you, your clit jumping at the noise. The need was possessing you, urging you to draw more out. 

You bent to kiss down his heaving chest. You couldn’t resist flicking your tongue over the hardened bud. This time his hand flew to your hair, and a breathless, high pitched noise escaped him.

“Fuck—” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Please, I... I can't—”

“I know you can,” you spoke against his skin, trailing your lips lower, down his stomach.

He shivered beneath you, body taut with tension. His breath came in uneven, shallow gasps, and you relished every single one.

You traced your fingers over the sensitive skin just above his belt, feeling him tense beneath you. Then, dazedly, you murmured against his stomach, “Do you let other people see you like this?”

His breath hitched. “Not often,” he admitted, voice strained. “Doesn’t fit the image.”

“Shame.” You pressed an open mouthed kiss just above his waistband. “You’re so pretty like this.”

A weak laugh escaped him, breathless. “Pretty. That’s a new one.”

You glanced up at him, your fingers toying with his belt. “But you are. And the noises you make are also so, so pretty.”

He exhaled sharply, like your words had knocked the wind out of him.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me,” he muttered, voice wrecked and desperate.

You grinned, trailing your fingers lower. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

You pressed your palm against the bulge beneath his jeans, feeling him jolt beneath you.

You reached for his zipper, hands eager, impatient. The rasp of metal sounded loud in the quiet room as you shoved his jeans down, dragging them off with no pretense.

Then your eyes landed on him.

The thick strain against his boxers, the way a damp patch was spreading at the front. Your mouth went completely dry.

Noel was panting now, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. “Love, you need to—”

His words were cut off by a strangled moan the second your fingers traced over him, pressing just enough to make him twitch beneath your touch.

You exhaled sharply, warmth pooling low in your stomach. He was right there in front of you, already leaking through the fabric, the evidence of his need making you lightheaded. Your breath ghosted over him before you leaned in, brushing your lips over the damp spot.

Then, with a slow pull, you closed your mouth around it, sucking gently through the fabric.

Noel let out a ragged curse, his hips jerking up against you. “Fuck.”

The desperation in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal straight through you.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you dragged them down, drinking in the sight of him. The way his cock bobbed, standing heavy against his stomach, had something hot and primal unraveling inside you.

A small, unguarded whimper escaped him, his hands clenching into the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white.

You flicked your tongue over the bead of precum gathering at his tip, tasting the saltiness of him.

His entire body shuddered and a broken moan tore from his throat, raw and wrecked. He seemed to be struggling to form words, his lips parting, closing again, as if searching for something to say.

But he didn’t need to. You could see the silent pleading in his eyes.

And christ it undid you.

The heat coiling low in your stomach was nearing a breaking point, the relentless throb between your legs getting to be too much. You wanted to keep tasting him, wanted to hear more of those breathless, ruined sounds. But if you did, you knew he wasn’t going to last. And you needed him inside you.

Now.

Without a word, you spun, moving your hair over your shoulder. “Help me out.”

His hands were shaking as he reached for you, dragging the zipper of your dress down in one slow, trembling motion, exposing every inch of you. His fingers traced along your spine, and goosebumps skittered across your skin in response.

You let the rest of the dress slip off, stepping out of your underwear in one fluid movement before turning back to him.

Noel’s gaze swept over you, his jaw tight, hands clenching into fists as if he were holding himself back.

Not for long.

You captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, guiding him back onto the bed, settling over him once again.

His hands grasped at your body, touch hot and desperate, sending wave after wave of need crashing through you. Your bodies were flush, nothing between you now, and the feeling of him hard against you sent a helpless moan tumbling from your lips.

You grasped him, positioning yourself over him, your breath coming in shallow, uneven pants.

“Can I?” you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Noel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips parted as he looked up at you, utterly wrecked. He nodded, unable to form a single word.

Slowly, you began to sink down onto him, gasping at the stretch, at the heat, the way he filled you completely. Your fingers dug into his chest as you took him inch by inch, your thighs shaking from how overwhelming it felt.

His hands shot to your hips, gripping you like a lifeline as a strangled moan tore from his throat.

You could feel him deep inside you as you finally seated yourself against him. You took a moment to adjust, shivering at the contact. The white hot heat in your veins was everywhere.

“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice breaking. His body trembled beneath you, every muscle tensed, struggling to hold on.

You glanced down at him, and his dark, desperate gaze met yours.

“Christ, you feel so incredible,” he rasped, voice wrecked and rough. “Need you—fuck, I need—” His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you shifted slightly, searching for the right angle.

You sat up, settling a hand against his chest and rolled your hips experimentally. The reaction was immediate.

A guttural moan tore from his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he guided you into a rhythm he clearly needed just as badly as you did.

Your body was drowning in sensation. Every nerve alight, every muscle quivering, every inch of you focused on where you were joined. You rocked against him, getting lost in the pleasure. 

You barely registered when he planted his heels into the mattress, bracing himself. But you felt it the second he used all his force to thrust up of the mattress and into you.

A sharp, helpless cry ripped from your lips.

The force of it would have knocked you off balance if he hadn’t been gripping you so tightly, keeping you planted against him as he pulled back and snapped his hips upward again.

“Fuck—Noel.” His name broke from your lips as another surge of pleasure hit you like a shockwave.

Each thrust sent lightning shooting down your spine, pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. You tried to meet him, to match his rhythm, but the way he was hitting so deep, so perfectly, made it nearly impossible to keep control.

You felt him everywhere. Filling you, consuming you. It was dizzying.

His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you down onto him harder, deeper. His own hips were surging up to meet you with every thrust, dragging you into the frantic, unrelenting pace he so badly needed.

The sounds filling the room were obscene. Skin meeting skin, ragged breaths, broken moans spilling from both of you.

Your mind had gone completely blank, overtaken by pleasure, your body running purely on instinct. The only thought was ‘Noel Noel Noel’. Your own moans were getting higher, more desperate, your broken off sounds of “No-el” between each thrust spilling out. 

“Fuck—” his breath came in ragged, labored gasps, his words shattered. “You feel—so fucking—good—don’t stop—”

Your thighs were trembling from exertion, but slowing wasn’t an option. Not when you were this close. Not when every nerve was buzzing, your entire body tightening around him, the telltale buildup coiling inside you like a live wire ready to snap.

“You’re so close, love,” he groaned, his grip tightening. “I can feel it—I need you to—please—I can’t hold on much longer—”

His plea sent another wave of heat crashing through you, tipping you closer to the edge.

Desperate, you moved a hand between you, flicking his nipple again, watching as he arched into your touch with a helpless, ruined moan.

“Fuck—” His voice broke. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm. “You’re gonna make me—fuck—I can’t—”

Then one deep, perfectly angled thrust sent you spiraling.

Pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body seizing as you cried out his name. Your walls clenched around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he came, his hands gripping you so hard you were sure there would be bruises. His release flooded inside you in sharp, pulsing waves.

You collapsed against him, body giving out entirely. Every muscle felt spent, useless, like you’d been wrung dry. His chest rose and fell beneath you in quick, uneven bursts, both of you still gasping for air.

For a long, breathless moment, the only thing in the world was the two of you. Bodies tangled, limbs shaking, lungs fighting for air.

You figured you should get off him to allow him to fully breathe. You slid off and onto your stomach, melting into the mattress. You could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets, but you made no move to stop it. 

Then finally, finally, the world came back into focus.

Noel shifted onto his side as he caught his breath, his fingertips resting along your spine in slow, soothing strokes. The touch sent a shiver through you, but not from arousal this time. It was something softer, something more dangerous.

The intensity of what had just occurred was overwhelming, but unlike last time, you didn’t feel the need to run.

His voice broke the quiet, rough with exhaustion. “You alright?”

You forced yourself to lift your head, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were heavy lidded, searching yours.

“I think so,” you murmured, still breathless.

His fingers brushed damp strands of hair back from your face, the gesture unexpectedly tender. “You’re shaking,” he noted, voice softer now.

You blinked. You hadn’t even realized.

Something stirred inside you at his tone. It was unfamiliar. Giddy and weightless. It felt like… affection. A small smile tugged at your lips before you even realized you were doing it.

“Yeah well that’s entirely your fault,” you mumbled.

He huffed out a quiet laugh before tugging you closer. His fingers resumed their slow, steady circles, and the warmth of it seeped into you, easing some of the lingering tremors.

This kind of intimacy wasn’t something you were used to. Fucking him was one thing, but this… this was something else entirely. Something you weren’t sure you should allow. But you weren’t stopping him either.

If this was what the real Noel Gallagher was like then you were in trouble.

You laid there for a moment before a nagging thought entered your mind. “I’m sorry I left you in that field.”

He stilled for half a second, body tensing before he relaxed again.

“I think I was scared,” you admitted. “So I ran. I’m not even sure what I was scared of, really. But… I am sorry.”

Noel exhaled through his nose, considering. “I get it,” he said finally. “I’m sorry if I was being, uh… too much.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “No, I liked it,” you confessed, cheeks heating. “I think that’s what scared me. Everything changed so fast, and I wasn’t ready for it.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were warm. “Well, I’ve been known to overwhelm people with emotions.”

You nudged him playfully, laughing.

“Don’t deny it, love,” he teased, his voice dipping into that cocky lilt again. “You know you can’t resist me. I’m magnetic.”

“Don’t you start with that again,” you warned, pushing up onto your elbows.

He let out a low chuckle, but his gaze flickered down, roaming over your body now that you weren’t caught up in the haze of lust. His expression shifted, less teasing, more appreciative.

“Oh, but it’s true,” he replied, his tone cheeky and playful. “You’re completely captivated by me.”

You pursed your lips, fighting back a smile. “That’s yet to be proven.”

“Is that so?” he murmured. He closed the space between you with a soft kiss. “I think I’m more than capable of proving it to you.”

Then, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, drawing a startled laugh from your throat. He grinned against your skin, pressing playful kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your neck.

“See?” he said, punctuating his words with another kiss. “Captivated.”

You laughed breathlessly, fingers tangling in his hair.

You were starting to think he might be right.

I know this is another Noel post but I pinky promise that I have concepts of a plan for a Liam post coming next. 

[imaginesbymonika]

From the dining table | Part 1

Pairing: Damon Albarn × Gallagher! Reader

Plot: Everyone's favorite topic during the '90s and 'OOs; Y/N Gallagher. The mysterious and beautiful younger sister of the two loud brothers rarely spoke during interviews but played the guitar like no one else. And even though she never said a word about her dating-life, the list of her rumored boyfriends kept growing longer with each passing year. Yet, there was one name in particular that just kept on popping up...

read the prologue

(1995)

He’s staring at her. Not because he wants to (although she’s a sight for sore eyes), but because there is just something about her field of energy that keeps on pulling him back in. He understands that he shouldn’t be. Not because of her two brothers though; he’s not intimidated by them, but because he just doesn’t want any more drama thrown his way. So maybe in a sense, it’s because of her brothers, but then again it isn’t. He-

“Damon!”, someone next to him says straight into his right ear and he flinches at the sudden sound. “What the fuck?!”, he asks, and his head twists into the direction of the voice:” Why would you do that?” His bandmate scoffs softly:” I’ve been trying to get through to you for the last three minutes. You know you should probably stop staring like that.”

“Wait what?”, his index finger moving into his ear: ”Don’t laugh. I’m being serious, I think I am deaf on this ear now.”

Graham chuckles:” Everyone can see that you’re staring at her, it’s only a matter of time till those dickheads see it as well. You know how protective they are of her.” Damon nods, turning his full body back towards the crammed table, before letting out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Having this war thing over our music’s is one thing, but the moment one of them finds out that you fancy Y/N you’ll probably get shot.”, the brown-haired man means it as a joke, of course, but at the same time, there’s more than just a bit of truth to it.

Y/N fucking Gallagher. Damon scoffs. No one really knows much about her other than the fact that she’s a few years younger than Liam. She plays the bass in Oasis and does a fucking excellent job at it. In Interviews she never talks, she just sits next to her two brothers and chews on gum while occasionally throwing a smile into the camera. And it’s not a sweet smile either: it’s cooky and secure. As if she understands the effect it has on other people. She knows she’s cool and pretty and it’s-

“Hey!”, Graham hits the back of Damon’s head with the palm of his hand:” Stop disappearing on me like that!” A pained chuckle exits Damon’s lips while he shakes his head:” I was thinking about something, thank you very much.”

“I hope about all the ways in which Noel will cut you up into tiny pieces when he finds out you think his baby sister is fit.”, he laughs and the blonde shoves him away from him. “Will you please stop talking?!”, he swallows thickly and turns to look back at the stage, but his gaze automatically halts on Y/N. Only this time their eyes instantly meet. His own widen while hers narrow and a couple of seconds later a smug smile appears on her lips. She knows.

Damon desperately wants to tear his stare off of her, but he just cannot do it. Y/N’s y/e/ced eyes survey his blushing features, while she leans back in her chair. She slightly tilts her head while un-crossing her legs and perhaps those ridiculous pop music magazines are right, maybe she is a God-

“Damon!”, Graham once again hits his friend’s head, before gripping his chin and harshly bending his head back to the table. “Outch.”, Damon silently lets out, before rubbing the side of his neck. And for a second it’s almost as if he can her Y/N giggle. Oh, he’s royally fucked.

[saetiate]

kaiser x reader, how they meet. a lil excerpt of a fic i’m working on

Being in a relationship, falling in love… For Kaiser, those seem like impossible features of life for him. He could still remember stealing just to eat, bruises over his body and an empty heart. Even now, with his and Isagi’s tamed dynamic duo becoming Bastard München’s pride, with Noel Noa’s recent retirement announcement, a relationship feels akin to the idea of a second moon orbiting around earth.

So to hear your voice like a windchime at this event…

“Thanks so much for participating! Having Bastard München be part of this outreach program has been a dream, especially for the children.”

It almost makes him want to break something.

“You think you’re helping them?” He snaps from over the table. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out like a spit, something ugly that’s been coiled up in his throat. Even stone-faced Noa looks shocked.

“This isn’t the field, Kaiser.” He comments, like an attempt at doing so offhandedly, except nothing Noa does is ever casual.

You meet Kaiser’s eyes and to his surprise, there’s no challenge there. He sees clear eyes and genuine intrigue. The consideration feels like ants crawling up his skin.

“It’s the first time we’re doing this, so to be honest, I’m not sure. But I think it’s a start. If there’s anything better that we can do, please let me know, and I’ll incorporate it.”

It’s a damn rehearsed message, makes him scoff in your direction. It’s only the genuine nature of your smile that keeps him from voicing his distaste. And yet, the moment you finish your conversation with Noa, you come to sit next to him.

You place the schedule, neatly clapped onto a clipboard, right in front of him. He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“You’re under no pressure to sign up.”

“Which is why I haven’t.”

You laugh. Laugh, like he’s charmed you with a joke.

“There’s an outreach program in your hometown, if you’re interested.”

“You think I wanna go back there?”

You hum. “I don’t know. But I do know they practically revere you there, and that they’d appreciate your presence. You don’t have to see anyone you don’t want to. You can show up for 5 minutes out of the allotted time. You can show up to one across the world instead. You can sign up and then cancel last minute. But if you’d consider it for even a moment, I’d love to have you.”

He looks at you, direct and cutting, and you greet him so openly that his stare gets harsher, and then he immediately pulls his eyes away.

He’s been crude to you today, hasn’t he? It’s his due, then, to pay his penance.

He sighs, flipping through the pages with one hand until he finds the page with his hometown, then scribbles his name down hard enough to leave an indent on the next couple pages.

“Thank you, Kaiser,” the way you say it is so soft it feels intimate, like a lover’s breath against his ear. He would’ve had less of a reaction if you had put your hand on his thigh, but there’s no touch, nothing that solidifies you to him or this moment when he replays it later in his head. “I really do look forward to seeing you there.”

[majinael]

final part of vulnerable

★michael kaiser x she/her pronouns reader (can be interpreted as GN)

★2,6k words

★part1 & part2 & part3 & part4

★songs associated : sweater weather & a little death

It wasn’t necessarily a shame, but somehow, neither of you ever mentioned what had happened that day.

Michael sat alone in his room, surrounded by the books he’d been too distracted to finish. As he closed the last one, his fingers brushed the cover, lingering for a moment before he leaned back in his chair. The silence felt heavy, pressing against him as his mind drifted.

Love? The thought almost made him scoff.

It was absurd. Unrealistic. Yet, there it was—a persistent weight beneath his arrogance, nagging at the edges of his thoughts.

But even if it was love, what was he supposed to do with it? How could someone like him ever make it something real?

The questions haunted him into the night, leaving him restless. By morning, they hadn’t disappeared. If anything, they’d only become sharper, digging into him as he walked toward the stadium.

Passing your office, he saw you through the glass. Another patient was with you, laughing at something you said. Your back was to Michael, but he could see the way your hands moved with practiced ease, the effortless care in your gestures.

His jaw tightened.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you work like this, your kindness extended to others in a way that had nothing to do with him. But today, it felt different. It clawed at him, sharp and unrelenting.

By the time he reached the field, frustration boiled over, spilling into every movement. His kicks were sharper, angrier, each strike of the ball echoing his unspoken irritation.

And then you appeared, as if on cue.

“Hello!”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Don’t you have patients to take care of?” His tone was biting, his gaze flicking to you with thinly veiled annoyance.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m on a break.”

“Hm.”

He turned away, clearly intent on ignoring you, but you stepped closer, not one to be dismissed so easily.

“Something’s wrong,” you observed, your voice calm but firm.

When you grabbed his wrist to stop him, he tensed, glaring at you. “Let go.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re insufferable,” he snapped. “and you’ve touched other idiots.”

A sharp laugh escaped you. “Jealous, Michael Kaiser?”

The way his name rolled off your tongue twisted something inside him. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” he muttered, his tone clipped. “It’s just disgusting.”

“I washed my hands.”

“I don’t care.”

“So you are jealous.”

“I’m not,” he said, though his tone betrayed him.

“You aaaare,” you teased, your grin widening.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

The challenge hung in the air, and before you could blink, he had closed the distance between you. His hands gripped your shoulders, and his lips crashed onto yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

When he pulled away, his expression was unreadable, a mix of frustration and something raw.

“Don’t test me,” he muttered before turning back to the field.

You stared after him, dazed. “You’re just… leaving?”

“That’s your punishment,” he called over his shoulder, his smirk returning.

“Oh no, however will I survive?” you said, placing a hand dramatically on your forehead.

For a moment, his chuckle was the only response before he threw himself back into training, his movements sharper than before.

The next day, sitting in the stands, you couldn’t help but notice the glint of the necklace you’d given him, the charm catching the light. It was subtle but unmistakable—a silent statement, one he didn’t need to put into words.

And when he scored his first goal, his sharp gaze darted to you in the stands, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Noel leaned over. “He’s really showing off today.”

I raised an eyebrow at his statement, curiosity flickering in my eyes, but before I could muster a response, he pressed on.

"I've seen you two together before."

A nervous laugh escaped me as I scratched the back of my neck, unease settling in. My mind raced, wondering when exactly he might have seen us—and what he had seen.

"You’re in love with him."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, spreading like wildfire as I let out another awkward chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully,” Noel replied, his tone certain.

By the end of the match, Michael made his way off the field, heading straight for you. His confidence was unshakable, but there was something in his gaze—something softer, more uncertain.

Before you could say a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your cheek, the gesture lingering just long enough to make its meaning unmistakable. In full view of the team, the message was clear: You’re mine.

As Michael walked away, leaving a trail of tension in his wake, Noel turned to look at me. My face was a mess of heat and embarrassment, cheeks burning furiously as I sank deeper into the collar of my jacket, desperate to hide. Slumped in my seat, I avoided his gaze, praying the ground would swallow me whole.

After this long, exhausting day, I spent what felt like an eternity searching for him—an entire hour wandering aimlessly. Every step was weighed down by the gnawing suspicion that he was deliberately keeping out of sight, slipping into the shadows just beyond my reach. I found him sitting on the training stadium bleachers, alone, as the sky blushed into evening. His silhouette was sharp against the fading sunlight, his posture relaxed, but there was a stiffness in his shoulders I couldn’t ignore.

“Didn’t expect you here,” Michael said without turning, his voice low, tinged with fatigue.

I climbed the steps, sitting beside him, leaving just enough space for the silence to breathe between us. “Didn’t think you’d be hiding out here.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Of course not,” I said, the faintest tease in my tone. “You’re just… brooding.”

He finally glanced at me, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “If you came here to psychoanalyze me, don’t bother.”

“Actually,” I said, leaning back “I came here to check on you.”

Michael scoffed softly, but there was no real bite in it. “I don’t need checking on.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

The words hung in the air, and for once, he didn’t argue. Instead, his gaze drifted back to the field, his fingers idly fidgeting with the necklace around his neck—the one I’d given him.

“Do you... like it?” I said quietly, nodding toward the charm.

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more hesitant. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever owned.”

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “Wow. Such high praise.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips, but it faded just as quickly. His fingers stilled, gripping the charm tightly.

“I don’t know why you gave it to me,” he muttered. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

I blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You could’ve chosen anyone. Someone easier. Someone who doesn’t—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my tone firm but gentle.

His head turned slightly, his expression unreadable.

“I didn’t choose you because you’re easy, Michael,” I said. “I chose you because… you’re you. Because beneath all the arrogance and sharp edges, there’s someone worth knowing. Someone worth caring about.”

He stared at me, his gaze intense, searching. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is.”

Michael let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe I am.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he leaned back, his eyes fixed on the darkening sky. “You know, I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between the two of us. “Caring. Letting someone… matter. I'll never be as good at it as you are.”

I hesitated for a moment, then reached out, my fingers brushing against his hand. He didn’t pull away.

“You’re better at it than you think,” I said softly.

He turned to me then, his guard slipped entirely. Vulnerability flickered in his eyes, raw and unfiltered.

“You’re terrifying, you know that?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Terrifying?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled slowly, as if the admission cost him something. “Because you make me feel things I don’t want to feel. Things I don’t know what to do with.” And I wish I could do anything else than stay silent, he thought.

I smiled faintly, my hand sliding into his, fingers lacing together. “That’s... love, Michael. Messy, complicated, terrifying but worth it.”

For a long moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable. Then, his grip on my hand tightened, almost imperceptibly.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone.”

He let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Michael shook his head, but there was something in his eyes—something softer, quieter. Something real.

“Then I guess I’m stuck with you now,” he said, his smirk finally making a reluctant appearance.

“Lucky me,” I teased, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“Lucky me,” he muttered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.

But I did.

And in that moment, we both understood.

I will give you the love you have always craved, you, who have wandered through life untouched by its warmth. No shadow you carry will dim the glow of my heart, as long as it beats with gold and fire, steady and unyielding in its devotion to you.

Let it seep through the cracks of your broken, blackened core. Throw it against the walls you’ve built so high, let it shatter and spill until it floods the emptiness inside you. And when it knocks you down, I will be there to catch you in my arms.

Sweet and bitter child, I will pour into you all that you lack, until your empty cup overflows with tenderness. Until you begin to craft your own dreams from the ones I have given you.

Until the love that brought you back is the love you offer freely, tender and fearless, just as you were meant to be.

[dorkyteenagedirtbag-ks]

Synopsis: Kaiser’s dream of glory comes true, but his victory feels hollow.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The energy in the stadium was electric; people were crazy. The crowd was roaring for Kaiser. The lights shone bright, and the chants of his name echoed, everything felt surreal. Football was his life, his savior, his everything. But as he stood there, triumphant and soaked in sweat, a weight settled in his chest like never before.

The locker room was filled with excitement, but Kaiser sat quietly in a corner, a towel draped over his head, lost in thought. His mind was elsewhere.

It had been weeks since he'd last seen his lover, (Y/N).

(Y/N), a man who once was his silent shelter against the world's noise, his refuge. A touch from him, his smile, or even a look into his eyes were capable of drawing Kaiser from all turmoil within himself back into a tranquil lake. From the moment he began with nothing, the beginning, in itself-he'd seen him work so hard and struggle. And all through it, during every fall and after, even at moments when he'd wonder what everything was about, he'd have Y/N beside him.

But he wasn't here now.

The argument was still echoing in Kaiser's ears, louder than the cheers surrounding him. It had happened a week before the semifinals, a time when they should have been celebrating one of his biggest wins; instead, they were at each other's throats, saying words sharper than they wanted to.

"You're never here, Kaiser," Y/N had said shaking. "You keep talking of the future, about 'one day,' yet it's the same. Constantly football and always something big and more important than me. You just don't see me in that future you are talking of."

"That's not fair," Kaiser had snapped, on the defense. "You knew what this was about when you began dating me. This is my dream, (Y/N). You should get that. You more than anyone else should understand!"

"I get it!" Y/N had shouted, tears welled in his eyes. "But what about my dreams? What about us? What about my feelings? Are we just something you fit in in the cracks between the matches and training sessions?"

 

Kaiser had gone quiet, unable to answer.

"I can't keep doing this," he'd murmured, the anger sizzling out into exhaustion. "I can't keep being your second choice. I can't keep being the one you seek only when you're not shining on the field."

Kaiser wanted to say something-he really wanted to assure (Y/N) that things would be different, that things would change. But the words got caught in his throat, entangled in a truth he couldn't face. Football did come first. It had to. It was his dream, after all. A part of his everything.

(Y/N) had walked away that night, his absence louder than anything he could have said.

Now, sitting in the locker room, Kaiser felt that absence weighing down on him like a rock. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through the unanswered texts he had sent to him. Each one was a little more desperate than the last.

Please, talk to me.

I didn't mean for it to be like this.

I need you, (Y/N).

But (Y/N) didn't answer.

A hand clapped Kaiser on the shoulder, jerking him back to the present. It was Noel Noa. "Press is waiting for you, Kaiser."

Kaiser nodded slowly, still in a haze. Standing up and plastering on a smile that felt fake, he went to talk to them. Everything felt like a lie today.

The press conference was a blur as reporters bombarded him with questions about his goal, the team's strategy, and his future. Kaiser answered like a robot, his mind elsewhere, somewhere with Y/N.

Later, standing alone in the parking lot, the night was eerily quiet. It was almost like the world was taunting his loud mind. He made one last call. It rang endlessly, and just when Kaiser thought it would go to voicemail again, (Y/N) finally answered.

“Kaiser,” (Y/N)’s voice sounded tired and distant.

“I won,” Kaiser said, his voice shaky. “We’re heading to the finals.”

There was an uneasy silence that lasted for what felt like hours. "Congratulations" a soft reply was muttered by (Y/N).

Kaiser's eyes screwed shut because this pain he was feeling had very almost reached its maximum threshold. "I wish you were here."

"I cannot be," responded Y/N. "I can't keep looking at you when you're not even gazing at me."

Kaiser's throat lumped. "It's not like this; to me, you're everything."

"But not enough," he cut in. "Not enough to be first for you. Maybe we weren't meant to be after all."

Kaiser was wordless. "I hope you win," (Y/N) said with a soft tone, and the call ended.

The silence hung between them, heavy and final.

He was there for quite a while-the stadium sounds diminished, the ache in his chest not going away, reminding him of what he'd lost.

Kaiser lowered his phone, staring at the screen as if it could somehow bring back Y/N. But it didn't.

In the end, Kaiser had chosen football. And it had cost him the one thing he could never get back.

And maybe, maybe after all Y/N was a part of his everything, but it was too late.

- 𝐊𝐒

[icepoptroll]

@rtcpickyourpoison day 3: Mischa - Sleepover

Decided to go with some combination Mischalia and bachelor party feels for this one.

Image description under the cut.

Page 1:

Panel 1: Mischa as a small child is running to catch up with his mother, who we see from behind. They are in a sunflower field on a sunny day. They are dressed in white with a dreamy glow surrounding them. He shouts, "Mama!"

Panel 2: Tamara turns around and smiles down to him.

Panel 3: She offers him her hand.

Page 2:

Panel 1: Against the glow of the sun Mischa attempts to take Tamara's hand.

Panel 2: We see Mischa's now adult-sized hand reaching out with nothing there in place of Tamara's hand. He says, ". . . I miss you."

Panel 3: Mischa lies on an air mattress with Noel snuggling him and Ricky snuggling Noel. Mischa has tattoos on his arms and several facial piercings with stretched earlobes. He continues, "I see you in my dreams at night. It is always good to see you, but it never lasts."

Page 3:

Panel 1: Mischa holds his phone in his hand. It is 1:42 AM, and he is opening a snapchat from Talia (screen name: taliaaa) from 2 hours prior. She is smiling and holding two fingers to her lips as if to blow a kiss to him. The text ribbon across her snap reads "Солодких снів!, коханий" with a red emoji heart. His monologue continues, "I can only hope in that short time. . . That you see all the love I still have."

Panel 2: We see Noel and Ricky asleep next to him from his perspective. He continues, "And that you are proud of me. . ."

Page 4: One full-page panel of Mischa smiling up at his phone as it glows a soft light blue on his face, Noel and Ricky sleeping contentedly next to him. His monologue concludes, ". . . That even in such a horrible place, I have found warmth and light."

[barbiegirldream]

When you boil it down Isagi's ego has to be attached to other players (namely Noel Noa and Michael Kaiser) because he has no reason to play soccer. They all want to win but that's not why they play.

The New Gen XI players seem to be in some sort of sold your soul contract. Lorenzo and Kaiser specifically to get out of extreme poverty/lives of crime. Noa also played to get out of that life and is molding Kaiser in his image.

Rin wants to destroy his big brother and everyone else who plays soccer. Shidou wants a chemical explosion something to light up his life.

Ness wants magic to happen on the field that his scientific upbringing couldn't give him.

Reo wanted something for himself and Nagi wants to play for Reo. His ego was about developing a reason to play for himself.

So it falls flat to me this continued assertion that Isagi's ideal is another person. He straight up says he wants to play soccer like Michael Kaiser. And clearly that 'superstar' in his eyes is who he needs to be. But like... that's not ego certainly not Blue Lock ego. That's a 2000 disney channel sideplot where he tries to take over Kaiser's identity.

[maochira]

bastard munchen w ego's younger sister whos the complete opposite of ego, shes like very oblivious and innocent? to everything around her TT

Hi! Please keep in mind I generally only write gn!reader! Also, I obviously couldn’t fit every character in this, so I only did a few and this is mainly focused on Isagi (but I might make a part 2 of this!!)

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!Ego’s younger sibling!reader, reader is a lot younger than Ego and around the same age as the Blue Lock players, not proofread

Ever since the beginning of the Blue Lock program, something about the players caught your attention. You have never been interested in soccer, but something about this suddenly grabbed your interest. You became a big fan of the participants with your favourite one being Isagi. Your sudden enthusiasm also was a surprise to your brother, but he obviously didn’t complain. He was happy that after all these years you suddenly found interest in soccer.

But no matter how often you asked, Ego never allowed you to meet any of the participants. Not even at the U-20 match. You always had to keep your distance from them, but never got an explanation why.

Truth is, your brother is perfectly aware of how oblivious, innocent and naive you are. He’s always seen that as your biggest weakness. And with the Blue Lock players being so focused on egotism, Ego was afraid you’d get close to them and end up having your feelings hurt. But he never told you about that. He only shrugged it off as “I just don’t want you to” whenever you asked.

But ever since the Neo Egoist League began, your brother’s strictness regarding you seemed to fade. He still didn’t allow you to meet the players, but suddenly “i don’t want you to” turned into “Maybe some time next week.”

And this “sometime next week” is today. You got to pick one of the teams to watch at their practice, and you chose Bastard München for multiple reasons. The main one being that you really want to meet Isagi, but Noel Noa being their coach also peaked your interest. You still don’t understand as much about soccer as other fans do, but you know that he’s the world’s greatest striker, so of course you would want to meet him. Although, Ubers was a close second choice to you.

Very excitedly, you walk towards Bastard München’s training field. It’s really hard to keep yourself together to not start squealing in excitement, but somehow you manage to stay somewhat calm.

None of the players really knew beforehand who would come to watch their practice today. They were only told that someone would be watching, but they certainly didn’t expect that someone to be Ego’s younger sibling. None of them even knew Ego has a younger sibling, but when you stepped in, they could immediately see that you’re related to him. At first, you could hear them whispering and asking each other who you might be, first wondering if you might be Ego’s child. But because you’re too old to be his child - or Ego is too young to have a child at your age - they figured he must be your brother.

The first player to approach you is Yukimiya. He very politely introduces himself and holds his hand out for a handshake. In your excitement, you accidentally squeeze his hand too tight.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize and bow down a little, which gains you a little chuckle from Yukimiya.

“No need to apologize, it didn’t hurt.” He has a soft smile on his lips. “May I ask for your name?”

Just before you get to introduce yourself, another player shoves Yukimiya to the side. Only a seconnd later suddenly you’ve got Kaiser standing in front of you with Ness on his side. Just like Yukimiya did, Kaiser holds his hand out to you. But unlike Yukimiya, he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he brings your hand up to his lips to place a soft kiss on it. No one has ever done something like this to you, so of course it causes you to get flustered in the matter of seconds.

“Kaiser! Don’t be like that!” Kaiser quickly gets shoved away by Isagi. You were already flustered before, but now that you’ve got your favourite soccer player standing in front of you, you completely lose your ability to speak. But you don’t need to say anything right now anyways because Kaiser and Isagi are fighting right in front of you and neither of them seem to intend to bring it to an end.

“Shut it guys, that’s enough.” Raichi growls while shoving his teammates apart. He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you, he just wants Kaiser and Isagi to shut up.

You’re about to say something, but then the boys get called by Noa to continue their training. You haven’t even gotten to tell them your name yet. But you happily watch the team practicing their soccer skills. Being near them to watch is way more exciting than only watching them on the screens in your brother’s office, even though this is only a practice match. Every now and then, you catch the players looking at you. The majority of the time they’re focused on the ball, though.

When they’re done, most of the players leave the field without paying any further attention to you. To be honest, they’re just too exhausted to start a conversation with you at this point. Well, all of them except for one.

“Sorry for Kaiser earlier, he’s… weird.” Isagi says as he approaches you.

“Oh no no, don’t worry about me.” You laugh nervously, both because remembering what Kaiser did causes you to blush again and because of Isagi staning in font of you right now.

“What’s your name?” Isagi wants to know, “My name is Yoichi Isagi,” He adds quickly afterwards.

“Oh, I know,” You feel your cheeks heating up a little more, “O-oh and my name is (Y/N).”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). I assume… you’re related to Ego?”

“Yep, he’s my older brother!” You respond in a cheerful voice, which is so cute to Isagi, he blushes slightly as well.

“So… You mentioned you already knew my name?” Isagi is trying to figure out how to continue this conversation without having any awkward silences inbetween.

Your smile gets a little brighter as you nod in response. “I often watch recordings of the games with my brother. And… You’re actually my favourite player ItOs nice to talk to you.”

Isagi’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, I’m your favourite Blue Lock player?”

“No, you’re my favourite player out of all. Not just in Blue Lock,” You laugh a little, but your nervousness is slowly fading. “I barely know any other soccer players, to be fair.”

Isagi just stares back at you. He’s struggling to get a grasp on the fact that out of everyone in Blue Lock he caught the interest of Ego’s sibling the most. This will definitely motivate him even more for the future.

[opheliachoii]

¿ The Villain ?

MICHAEL KAISER X READER ( as Elisse Noa )

ABOUT : a story taking place within the field itself. Whereas Michael Kaiser, and you compete end-to-end over a stupid bet that the emperor made himself. Who would conquer the game? The blue devil or the villainess herself?

PART 2/3

— "Let's cheer on for team Bastard Mūnchen! Which was a team from a training simulation called Blue Lock! I cannot wait to see what they've got!" The announcer cheekily declared.

"Oh we'll indeed show you what we've got, right 'God's chosen Emperor?'" Isagi smirked. "I'll ravage the field, don't piss me off Yoichi."

"And if we turn here, woah! Can't believe my eyes! Our star player?! Elisse Noa!? team Schurke Strikers!!"

The crowd had gone wild as you and your team had appeared.

"See what I mean?" Noel spoke with hindrance, but deep inside he was truly proud for his sister who made it this far. "They're a bit scary don't yer think?" Hiori stated. "You're right, she's the only female in their team" Isagi added.

"Schurke Strikers— what does that even mean?" Kiyora asked with annoyance.

"Villain." Kaiser replied. "Villain Strikers, it's German."

"What a scary name for a team-" "My sister named that team." Noel interrupted Isagi. "SERIOUSLY? IS SHE REALLY THAT POWERFU—" "yes." Noel interrupted once again.

As the formation was about to start, you suddenly approached the opposing team.

"Great to see you again bro!" You approached Noel with a pleasant smile on your face. "Eli! Break a leg on the field!" Noel jokingly cheered "Ha-ha, very funny, that term shouldn't be used in soccer my dear brother." You remained your innocent looking face towards him.

Everyone in the opposing team stared at you with mixed expressions on their faces, but Kaiser's face remained unfazed. "Is that the person who I think she is?" Hiori asked "I think so—?" Ness added.

"Oh guys, you've finally met my sister! Elisse, this is my team. Team, this is my sister Elisse, Elisse Noa." Noel proudly introduced.

"So you're the one everyone's hyped about. You seem like a harmless cutie~" Kaiser spoke sarcastically from behind. "Exactly! Noel- are you sure—" Isagi immediately covered Ness' mouth to refrain him from speaking more further.

Your eyes scanned discreetly towards each members of Bastard Mūnchen, and your eyes landed on him.

"Ahh, you must be..

Michael Kaiser.."

— Game Time —

"Everyone, you know the formation. Get to it." Kiyora seriously stated. "It's game time" Isagi excitedly grinned "Don't get your hopes up with your goal Yoichi" Kaiser smirked "Hey, fired up huh? What's up with her? She's staring at you like a dart" Isagi pointed at you "Huh? She's too cute to stare like a villain" He stared at you as you switched to 'innocent-look mode' "I might actually ask her out.."

"Kaiser— focus on the goal here. Yeah she's cute and all, don't get distracted." "Are you instructing me Yoichi? Don't tell me what to do. Whatever this weakshit got on the field, I don't fucking care. I'm taking her soccer career to a downfall, where she could never play again."

The blow of the whistle has undicated the game has started. The first ball was in Kaiser's team, and the game is already in a tightrope as Schurke strikers has taken the ball from their team. "Fuck, Ness now!" Kaiser yelled "On it."

As Ness finally took the ball, he felt shivers down his spine, as a huge purple aura overshadowed him "Excuse me~ but that ball is mine" you zoomed in out of nowhere and snatched the ball from Ness and did a direct shot.

Bastard Mūnchen - 0

Schurke Strikers - 1

The crowd cheered loudly, as screams and shouts echoed around the arena "A steal and direct shot combo from Elisse Noa?! This woman is full of surprises! Her looks cannot compare to her skills on-field!" The announcer proudly stated "Exactly! I wonder what other tricks could she have on her sleeve!" The other announcer agreed.

"What. the. fuck. was. that?!" Isagi panted "I don't know but, what I see was no ordinary player." Hiori replied "What happened to her cutesy presence?!?!" Kiyora angrily questioned.

She's no petite on-field, she's a beast.

"Oh fuck her, that was luck." Kaiser stated as he wiped his sweat on his chin using his arm "That was no luck, Kaiser.. That was pure talent." Isagi said with a worried tone

"Stop yapping, and start kicking will ya'?" You annoyingly said as you ran back to your spot.

"Fuck you." Kaiser sarcastically chuckled "I'm taking you down, even it takes my dignity."

— Next round —

"Pick up the pace!" Isagi yelled "Catch!" Hiori swiftly passed the ball to Isagi, but as Isagi was about to do his trick, two big players were in front of him blocking his way. "Pass it to me!" Kiyora called out, Isagi immediately passed it to him. But then he saw Kaiser "Move. I'm scoring today" Kaiser smoothly took the ball from Kiyora and gave him salute before heading to the goal "What the fuck man?!?"

As Kaiser was finally going to score his goal, the same purple aura overshadowed him and rhythmically took the ball without exertion used at all. "Coming through cutie~" you teasingly said "Oh no you don't meine dame" Kaiser took the ball once again and immediately kicked the ball and scored.

Bastard Mūnchen - 1

Schurke Strikers - 1

You sarcastically laughed "I heard you made a bet? What a cute bet, a simple one too! Child's play I tell you" Kaiser gritted his teeth from anger "Are you mocking me?" He raised his brows "And what if I am?" You played along.

"Hey guys—? Now's not the right time.. We're a tie now-" Isagi and Ness tried to stop you two but both of you were already heated up. "Shut up, this is our game now." Kaiser angrily spoke "Oh, bring it on Blaue Rose."

He paused for a second as he was stunned from a certain nickname you called him.

"Oh so you want that type of game hmm..? Interesting.. I like you now~ feisty on field" Kaiser flirted.

"Kaiser!!" Noel yelled all the way from the benches.

"No worries, I hate you to the core."

To be continued..

[potato-lord-but-not]

tbh in my mind there is a chance between Noel being undercover in newyork for awhile, and Oscar working at a soup kitchen and being a clergyman that they have met and may have loosely known eachother prior to Arthur showing up in their lives. they both work in fields that require working with the community to some degree so theres a chance they might be like "oh thats that guy. I know his name and what he does." Anyways I'm saying theres a chance Oscar unknowingly met a Noel helping show someone where the soup kitchen is while he was out and about But also that he may have met a very recently post prison pitts Noel, gave him food, and told him he'd always be welcome in the church if he was there but just never got his name and never connected the dots when he saw him as a detective later

STOP IM ALREADY SO ILL ABOUT THEM

just the idea… that Noel was so malnourished and tired and changed after the prison pits that he’s completely unrecognizable years later when he’s recovered and back to looking somewhat like his old self. Oscar never even realizes, and Noel would never tell him.