#noel next door

[kuronarnze]

Hellooo!♡

1. How about a Sae oneshot where he has a privat relationship with reader and the Media thinks he is still Single? But at one of his games,somebody is flirting with reader and Sae is not having it so at the End of the Match,he walks calmly to the stands where reader Was watching the whole game and just kisses reader infront of everyone. The next day its all over the news....

2. (Again) a Kaiser oneshot (sorry he is my favorite with some others...) where you are the younger sibling of Noel Noa and one day you are helping Noa with Training so from this day on Kaiser is really intrested in you. He starts beeing nice but is still flirting so everyone is kinda surprised to see Kaiser beeing nice to someone...

a/n: thank you sm for requesting again !! Im sorry for the late replyy, ill write the sae one first :) enjoy the oneshot !

Itoshi Sae x Reader !

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Public Secrets

For the longest time, the world believed Itoshi Sae was single.

The media loved speculating about his love life, linking him to models, actresses, and even other athletes, but none of them knew the truth. None of them knew that, behind the cameras and away from the prying eyes, Sae had already given his heart to you.

It was a private thing, something he wanted to keep for himself. He had never been the type to flaunt his emotions, much less his relationships. You understood that. You never pushed. You were content with the quiet moments, the stolen kisses behind closed doors, the whispered confessions before he left for training.

But today… today was different.

You were at the stadium, seated in the VIP section, watching Sae dominate the field with his usual cold precision. His movements were sharp, effortless, as if he were dancing between defenders with ease. But while you were focused on him, someone else was focused on you.

The man beside you had been trying to talk to you for the past fifteen minutes.

"You here alone?" he asked, leaning a little too close.

You barely glanced at him. "No."

"Really? I don’t see anyone with you."

You sighed, keeping your eyes on the field. "I’m not interested."

That should have been enough, but the guy didn’t seem to get the message. "Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just a conversation. Let me buy you a drink after the game—"

A sharp whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.

Sae's opponent team had lost.

Sae had scored the winning goal.

And now, he was walking toward you.

No—stalking toward you.

The moment you met his gaze, your breath hitched. His teal eyes were locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. The entire stadium was still roaring from the match, reporters scrambling to get post-game interviews, cameras flashing in every direction—

But Sae didn’t stop for any of them.

He walked straight past his teammates, past the staff, past the security trying to control the crowd. He climbed the stairs to the VIP section, his expression unreadable, his body language eerily calm.

The guy beside you straightened, probably realizing that something was off. "Uh… is he coming here—?"

You didn’t even get to answer.

Because in the next second, Sae was in front of you, standing so close that you could see the sweat still clinging to his skin. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

His hand cupped your face, fingers tilting your chin up—

And then he kissed you.

Right there. In front of everyone.

It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was firm, deliberate, a clear statement. His lips moved against yours like he had nothing to hide, like he wanted the whole world to know exactly who you belonged to.

The stadium fell into chaos.

You could hear the gasps, the frantic clicking of cameras, the commentators losing their minds. But none of it mattered. Not when Sae was pressing into you like this, not when his thumb brushed against your cheek in a silent mine.

When he finally pulled away, his voice was low, meant only for you. "That guy bothering you?"

You swallowed, feeling your heart race. "Not anymore."

Sae scoffed, casting a cold glance at the man beside you before turning back to you. His lips quirked up slightly—something smug, something dangerous.

"Good."

And with that, he walked away, leaving the entire stadium—and the world—shaken.

—

The next morning, your phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

"BREAKING: Itoshi Sae’s Secret Lover Revealed!"

"Football Prodigy Takes a Stand for Love in Viral Moment!"

"The Kiss That Shook the Sports World!"

You groaned, burying your face into your pillow as notifications kept flooding in. You barely had time to process before a familiar voice interrupted.

"Stop looking at your phone."

You peeked up to see Sae leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered.

"Sae," you mumbled, holding up your screen. "We’re literally all over the news."

He shrugged. "So?"

"So?! You literally kissed me in front of thousands of people!"

His teal eyes glinted with something smug as he walked over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You didn’t seem to mind last night."

You glared at him, but your red cheeks betrayed you.

Sae smirked, slipping into bed beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into him. "They would’ve found out eventually," he muttered against your skin. "Might as well make sure they know you’re mine."

You sighed, melting into his embrace. "You’re unbelievable."

"And you love me for it," he murmured, lips brushing against your ear.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

Yeah. Maybe you did.

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UGH i actually made this a bit rushed, so im super super sorry if there are any mistakes! Thank you for reading, have a nice day (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

[mellowwillowy]

Thinking about writing a sweet, gentleman with a high sense of justice... Have a Yan! Baker!

Reader's gender is ambiguous as it's never really stated and only assumed.

Yan! Baker who is your neighbor and also your favorite baker of the town! The man has just recently moved next door and started his own little business which is opening a bakery!

Yan! Baker who gingerly offered you a cutely wrapped box of cookies as some sort of housewarming gift. One bite and you immediately fell in love with his creations! It's the best cookies you've ever had and the next day you saw him open his bakery, you were the first customer to line up for his cookies.

Yan! Baker who often gives you extra for every purchase you make, a little tad too much sometimes to be considered an extra. A juice for a piece of bread, a box of confections for a box of macaroons, and a box of luxurious-looking chocolate for a jar of cookies.

"My treat for someone so gorgeous like you." He eased you down with his smooth voice as you fidgeted at the extra he gave you. His smile was so genuine that you thought he might have taken a liking to you. But that couldn't be true right? He had a ring wrapped around his finger after all. He's most likely to be married already but you have never asked him that.

You thanked him and decided to pop off your curiosity today by asking him about his marital status.

"Me? Ahaha, yes I am not married yet, just engaged."

Perhaps your expression shifted too fast to the point he patted your shoulder, "... I really love them, I was once their prince in shining armor."

You cocked your head to the side while trying your best to make a chuckle at his word prince.

"Mmh, a literal prince might I say," Noel now wrapped both his hands on your shoulder, guiding you inside the bakery while spinning tales for you to hear to the point you didn't realize that the front rolling door was shut.

"A long time ago, this town was once a bustling village of an empire."

He sat you down at the kitchen table while preparing some tea for you to drink, somehow your mind fogged by his smooth voice.

"I had a twin brother and one of us was supposed to be the next Emperor but you see," Noel stirred the teabag into the pot, "I was not chosen by the die and my younger brother instead was raised to be the Crown Prince."

Is Noel a writer? You thought to yourself.

"But I didn't mind it at all, I received just a fair amount of love and attention from my family. I was slow in studying unlike my brother so I honed my skill in weaponry instead."

"So you were a knight?"

Noel nodded. You nodded slightly as well.

"I was a royal knight who was meant to guard both the country and my brother. But you know what?" Noel placed a tray of cookies, your favorite. "I grew up with not only my brother but also my beloved."

"Childhood friends?"

"More than that. They were one of my mother's lady-in-waiting and also my brother's closest friend and me."

A woman, you noted.

"Long story short, we grew up and got engaged, just like a fairytale." Noel picked the strawberry with his fork and ate it, since when did he bring it? And since when were the teas served already? His voice...

"But my brother was not pleased with it, he was envious, drowned in an ugly shade of envy." You could hear the irritation in his voice a tad too clear, a voice that you had never expected to hear from him.

"I was discharged from my duty momentarily due to a leg injury from a dispatch. It didn't bother me at all until I realized I had no hope of recovering completely, making my mother strip me of my duty permanently."

"But guess what, it turned out my brother was ecstatic about this news. He sent me away to be some preacher which automatically cut off my engagement. I didn't even have the chance to explain myself to them, only through letter could I apologize."

Was it his voice that lulled you deeper into the tale to the point you could see yourself in the setting or was it the cookies?

"Erickson swooped my love away and made them the Empress. They both reigned the empire into glory until I came in."

Chill ran down your spine, and the room that was originally normal suddenly felt hot.

"According to the prophecy, one of us three would be the downfall of the empire." Noel pointed between himself and you. Your waist felt so tight out of a sudden as though a corset was tightly wrapped around you. You wheezed from how the lack of oxygen and your eyes teared up from the smoke.

"Me, Erickson, or you. The Priest, the Emperor, or the Empress. The Knight, the Crown Prince," Noel brought your hand to his lip, "or the Jester."

An identical ring to his was slid into your finger, it fit like a charm, not too tight and not too loose.

The once small kitchen shifted into a spacious bedroom lit by a blazing scarlet that consumed the whole room. The heat was so much for you that you could somehow feel your skin melting.

Two heads were laid on top of your lap, and both of them shared the same scarlet hair, their face was not really clear but you could see them peacefully resting against you as their final resting place.

Just before you lost sight of everything and blacked out, Noel's kiss brought you back to reality. Kiss.

"I've been waiting for you for so long." The room shifted back to normal and you were on the bed with him above you. "Millennium, I waited for you for millennium and when I found you, I couldn't contain the feelings that were stored in the ring."

It turns out that your baker next door is not just some baker. He was your knight, your fiance, and your--

"But now, I can finally share this long locked suffocating feeling and fate with you." Noel muttered into your lip.

Diary Entry.

[biblical-chronicles]

New arrival

________________________________________

where the newly moved-in reader makes Noel start leaving his room for once.

Pt.1 | Pt.2

________________________________________

The first time you met Peggy, it had been by pure chance. You were at the local grocer’s, struggling to calculate the best way to stretch what little cash you had. You’d been eyeing a dented tin of soup when she approached, friendly as anything, and started chatting. By the time you’d finished checking out, she’d not only figured out you were new in town but also offered a spare room in her house on the condition that you help out around the place and chip in a little for rent.

You’d nearly cried on the spot. It wasn’t easy being in a new city, broke, and trying to get your footing. Her kindness was a lifeline you hadn’t expected but desperately needed. So, a few days later, with your single suitcase in tow, you arrived at the Gallagher household.

Peggy opened the door before you could even knock properly, a smile already on her face. “Oh, there you are, love! Come in, come in—don’t stand out there like a lost lamb.”

You stepped inside, immediately hit with the comforting smell of home cooking and the faint scent of cigarettes lingering somewhere in the background. Peggy took your suitcase before you could protest, leading you through the narrow hallway.

“Right, so this is the front room,” she said, gesturing to a space crowded with mismatched furniture and stacks of magazines. “And that’s the kitchen through there—help yourself to a brew whenever you like. The loo’s upstairs, and your room’s just down here.”

She led you to a small room at the back of the house. It was cramped, with a worn-out couch shoved against one wall and a pile of boxes stacked in the corner, but it was clean and cozy enough.

“It’s not much, I know,” Peggy said, wringing her hands. “We’ve just never had much use for this room—bit of a dumping ground, really. But you’ll make it your own, eh?”

“It’s perfect,” you assured her, dropping your bag on the couch. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Gallagher. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“Oh, none of that now,” she said, waving a hand. “It’s Peggy to you, love. And you’re family now, alright? Just pull your weight and we’ll get on fine.”

You smiled, genuinely touched by her warmth. Peggy gave you a quick rundown of the house rules—nothing too strict—and left you to settle in.

Later, as you were unpacking, a knock came at the door. You turned to see a man about your age leaning against the frame, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Alright, love? I’m Liam,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. “Mum said we’ve got a new lodger. Proper fit one too, by the looks of it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that how you greet everyone?”

“Nah, just the special ones,” he shot back, winking. “So, what’s your story then?”

You spent the next few minutes chatting, his sharp tongue making you laugh easily.

Eventually, Peggy’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Liam, stop pestering her! She’s had a long day!”

“She loves it, Mum!” Liam called back, making you laugh again. “See? She’s smilin’.”

Peggy appeared in the doorway a moment later, hands on her hips. “Don’t mind him, love. He’s harmless—just got a big gob on him.”

“Oi!” Liam protested, feigning offense.

Peggy rolled her eyes before turning back to you. “There’s another one knocking about somewhere, Noel. He’s upstairs with his guitar, like always. You’ll probably see him at tea time, if he bothers to come down.”

Liam snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, don’t get your hopes up, love. He’s all bent for that bloody guitar. Doesn’t care about owt else. I reckon he humps it when no one's lookin'.”

“Liam!” Peggy scolded, smacking him lightly on the arm.

“What? Just sayin’,” he said, grinning at you.

You laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “Sounds fun.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea,” Peggy muttered, giving Liam a look. “Now, go on, you. Leave her be.”

Liam winked at you as he turned to go. “Don’t let her fool you, love—she’s scarier than me when she’s in a mood.”

With that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you laughing and shaking your head.

Peggy sighed, but there was a fondness in her expression. “He’s a good lad, really. Just likes to push his luck. Now, let me finish up tea, and you can meet Noel hopefully.”

You nodded, already feeling more at home than you had in weeks.

When Noel finally made his appearance at the table, it was almost as if a shadow had swept into the room. His blue eyes flicked over you briefly, taking you in with a glance that felt both assessing and uninterested at the same time.

“Noel,” Peggy said, her tone sharp but affectionate. “This is our new lodger. Be nice.”

“Alright.” Noel muttered, sitting down at the table without much fanfare. He grabbed a plate and started serving himself, not sparing you another look.

“Nice to meet you.” you offered, trying not to let his cold demeanor throw you off.

“Yeah, you too.” he replied, his tone flat but polite enough.

Liam snorted, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Don’t mind him, love. This is probably the first time he has spoken to a bird in weeks.”

Noel shot Liam a glare. “Shut it, knobhead.”

Peggy sighed. “That’s enough, the both of you.”

As the meal went on, Noel stayed mostly quiet, occasionally chiming in when Peggy or Liam addressed him directly. He didn’t seem rude, just… guarded, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of you yet.

When the plates were nearly cleared, Noel stood abruptly, picking up his plate to take it to the kitchen. “I’ll be in me room.” he muttered, already heading for the door.

Liam rolled his eyes, leaning toward you with a grin. “Off to wank over his guitar, no doubt.”

You chuckled softly but, before you knew it, the words were slipping out of your mouth. “I mean, I get it. It’s nice to have summat you’re that passionate about, especially when that thing is music.”

Noel froze mid-step, turning to look at you properly for the first time all evening. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in a suspicious way, but more like he was trying to figure you out. “You play or summat?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “Been in a few bands back home, nowt serious. Just for fun.”

Liam laughed, shaking his head. “Careful, love. He’s gonna adopt you now.”

But Noel wasn’t listening to Liam anymore. His focus was entirely on you. “You any good?”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

For the first time all evening, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of Noel’s mouth. “Alright. Come on, then.”

You followed him upstairs to his room, leaving Liam and Peggy exchanging amused glances at the table.

Noel’s room was cramped, with an unmade bed shoved into one corner and clothes scattered everywhere. He picked his guitar up—a well-worn acoustic that looked like it had seen better days—and handed it to you without a word.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, testing the strings and adjusting the tuning slightly before strumming a few chords. Noel watched you intently, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

After a minute, you started playing a song you knew by heart, your fingers moving effortlessly over the strings. As you played, you glanced up at him, half-expecting him to look unimpressed, but his face had softened.

“Not bad,” he said when you finished, his tone casual but with a hint of something warmer underneath. “Got a good ear.”

“Thanks,” you said, handing the guitar back to him. “Your turn.”

He smirked, taking the guitar and sitting down next to you. He played a few riffs, his fingers moving over the fretboard with a precision and ease that made your jaw drop a little.

“Alright, show-off.” you teased, nudging him lightly.

He laughed—a quiet, almost shy sound that took you by surprise. “Can’t help it, can I? Spent half me life with this thing.”

The two of you spent the next hour trading songs and chatting. At first, Noel was reserved, keeping his answers short and to the point. But as time went on, he started to relax, his dry humor shining through as he told you stories and inquired more about you.

By the end of the night, he was sitting closer to you than he had been before, his knee brushing against yours as he handed you the guitar again.

“You’ve got somethin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “Dunno what it is, but… yeah. I reckon you’ll fit in here just fine.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. For all his initial standoffishness, there was something incredibly endearing about Noel when he let his guard down. And little did you know that this little interaction had him sold entirely.

Days turned into weeks, and Noel's obsession with you only deepened. It started small, little things that seemed almost sweet—offering to make you a brew, or conveniently showing up wherever you were in the house, even if it meant abandoning his guitar mid-strum. But as time went on, his behavior became almost laughably obvious to everyone except, apparently, you.

The first hint of jealousy cropped up one evening when Liam was sprawled on the couch next to you, the pair of you laughing at something on the telly. You had your legs tucked under you, leaning into Liam slightly as you pointed at the screen and whispered something that had him laughing so loud Peggy poked her head in to shush him.

Noel walked into the room just in time to see Liam sling an arm casually over the back of the couch, his hand dangerously close to your shoulder. The sight made Noel’s jaw tighten.

“You two havin’ a laugh?” he asked, his tone sharp enough to cut through the cozy atmosphere.

Liam turned his head lazily, smirking. “Alright, Noel? We were just watchin’ this show. Dead funny. You’d love it if you could tear yourself away from yer room.”

Noel ignored him, his eyes flicking to you. “You good?”

You smiled up at him, oblivious to the tension radiating off of him. “Yeah, this show’s brilliant. Want to join?”

Noel shook his head. “Nah, I’ll leave you to it.” he muttered, but the way he glared at Liam as he left the room spoke volumes.

From then on, Noel made a point to position himself as close to you as possible at all times. If Liam sat next to you on the couch, Noel would plop himself down on your other side, his knee brushing yours as he leaned over to "grab a closer look" at whatever you were doing. If you laughed at something Liam said, Noel would immediately chime in with something wittier, his eyes flicking to you for your reaction.

The closeness between you and Noel also began to shift in the physical realm. The first time he hugged you, it was after you’d come home from running errands, your arms full of shopping bags. He’d taken the bags from you, muttering something about how you shouldn’t be carrying all that on your own, and when you thanked him, he surprised you by pulling you into a quick, one-armed hug.

“Don’t mention it.” he said gruffly, but the way he lingered just a second too long told you otherwise.

From then on, the hugs became more frequent, and longer. One rainy afternoon, you were sitting on the couch, feeling a bit low. Noel wandered in and immediately noticed your mood.

“You alright, love?” he asked, sitting next to you and nudging your knee with his.

“Yeah, just one of those days.” you said with a shrug.

Without a word, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re alright now, yeah?” he murmured, his hand rubbing small circles on your arm.

In that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, and neither of you seemed in any hurry to pull away.

Even Peggy noticed the shift. One morning, as you and Noel were sitting at the kitchen table, your chairs pulled a little closer than necessary, she just walked in and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, don’t you two look cozy.” she said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

You laughed it off, but Noel’s ears turned red as he busied himself with his tea.

And then there were the little gestures. Noel, who had never cared much for shopping, suddenly became incredibly interested in it—specifically, in buying things for you.

One afternoon, you mentioned in passing that you missed a certain brand of chocolate from your hometown. Two days later, Noel showed up with a bag full of it, muttering something about how he just “happened to see it at the shop.”

Liam, of course, didn’t miss the opportunity. “Look at him, eh? He’s oh so conveniently found a stack of her favourite sweets.”

Noel shot him a glare but didn’t bother denying it. If anything, he seemed almost proud of it.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon by the time you returned from running errands. Kicking off your shoes by the door, you carried the groceries into the kitchen, pausing at the faint trace of cologne in the air.

“Evenin’.” you called out as you began unpacking the bag.

“Evenin’, love,” Liam replied, leaning against the living room doorway with his signature smirk. “You’ve just missed the show—our Noel’s been struttin’ about like he’s headlining Wembley.”

Curious, you poked your head into the living room and immediately saw what Liam was on about. Noel was standing by a chair, looking… different. His usual sweater had been swapped for a neatly pressed, blue button-up shirt, his hair styled so it actually framed his face, not sticking out in every direction like usual.

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “What’s the occasion?” you asked, your tone light. “Are you goin' town? I thought we were supposed to watch the telly together.”

Noel froze at your words, his gaze darting between you and Liam. “What? No. Yeah—I mean, no. We’re watchin’ the telly. Together. Of course.”

Liam started laughing so hard he had to brace himself against the doorway. “Christ,” he wheezed. “Did you hear that? Smooth as sandpaper, he is. Mate, you’ve been rehearsin’ this all day!”

“Shut it.” Noel snapped, though the pink rising in his cheeks betrayed him.

But Liam wasn’t done. “You even did your hair!” he pointed out, gesturing dramatically toward Noel. “All this for a night sat on your arse. Swear down, he’s gone from humpin’ his guitar to wantin’ to hump the poor bird.”

“Liam!” Peggy’s sharp voice cut through the room as she entered from the hallway, giving her younger son a solid smack on the arm. “Mind your bloody mouth!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, your cheeks warming at Liam’s antics. But as Noel stood there, his usual confidence clearly knocked a peg or two, you knew you had to reassure him.

“Oh, don’t be so mean,” you said, stepping closer to Noel and giving Liam a pointed look. Then you turned your attention to Noel, your voice softening. “He’s just jealous. Look at you—you look great.”

Noel blinked, caught completely off-guard.

You smiled, gesturing to his shirt. “Blue suits you. It really brings out your eyes. And the hair—” you reached up without thinking, brushing a strand off his forehead— “yeah, just frames your face dead nice.”

Liam let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest like he’d been wounded. “Bloody hell, you’re feedin’ his ego now? He looks ridiculous.”

“Better than feeding yours,” you shot back, your grin turning playful. “When was the last time you wore something that didn’t look like it came out of a bin bag?”

Liam’s jaw dropped, and he searched for a comeback, but Peggy cut him off with a sharp look. “That’s enough, Liam,” she said, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Go and set the table if you’ve got so much energy to spare.”

Grumbling under his breath, Liam walked off toward the kitchen, leaving you and Noel standing alone.

For a moment, the room was quiet, and you turned back to Noel, who still looked a little stunned. “Sorry if that embarrassed you,” you said, lowering your voice. “I just… wanted you to know you look really nice tonight.”

Noel cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. “Nah, you’re alright,” he muttered, though his tone was softer than usual. His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks. For that. You didn’t have to…”

“Of course I did,” you replied, shrugging as you gestured toward the couch. “Come on, then. You didn’t get all dressed up just to stand there, did you?”

Noel followed you to the couch without a word, but the faint flush on his cheeks lingered.

The two of you quickly settled side by side in your own little bubble of comfort. The nonsense on the screen barely registered as you both sat there, only half-paying attention. It had become a bit of a routine, watching random shows, making occasional comments, and slipping into silence when the need for words wasn’t there.

You shifted slightly, making yourself more comfortable. Your body brushed against his, and you felt the warmth radiating from him. His legs were stretched out in front of him, and you mirrored the position, just close enough that your knees nearly touched.

Ten minutes passed, the silence stretching between you both, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. You couldn’t help but notice the way Noel sat there, his arm resting against the back of the couch. A small, part of you wanted him to pull you closer, just a little—just enough for your shoulders to brush or for his arm to casually drape across your shoulders. You had no reason to think that he would. He hadn’t done anything like that yet, but the thought of it swirled in your mind, a quiet longing that seemed to grow the longer you sat there.

You couldn’t help but feel that flutter of nervous excitement. You wanted to be closer, wanted him to reach out to you without it feeling like a game anymore.

You sighed quietly, trying not to let your thoughts get too far ahead of you. It was silly, really, this want. But a small part of you couldn’t deny the warmth in your chest at the idea of him holding you. Not just sitting next to you. Not just being close, but touching you in a way that felt more... more real.

And maybe Noel could feel the shift too, because after a long moment, you noticed him turn just slightly towards you, his arm brushing against yours. It wasn’t much—just a simple movement, a shift of his body, but the connection was there.

For a few more minutes, nothing changed, and you almost started to think that maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part. But then, Noel’s hand moved. He shifted closer, just a fraction, and you didn’t pull away. Your leg brushed against his, his fingers lightly grazed the back of your hand. It wasn’t a gesture that screamed boldness. It was subtle, casual, but the touch made your heart race.

You let out a small breath, realizing just how much you had wanted that connection. And without thinking too much about it, you leaned just a little into him, pressing the side of your shoulder against his arm.

The moment you did, Noel didn’t pull back. Instead, his hand slowly moved to your shoulder, his fingers making the briefest contact before resting there. His touch was light, but it was enough to send a rush of warmth through your body. You glanced up at him, and he caught your eye for a second before quickly looking away, his fingers still resting on your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything, the touch just lingered a little longer than necessary, and you had the sense that Noel, for the first time, was letting it happen, letting that closeness build without pulling away or hiding behind his usual defenses.

You moved your head slightly, resting it against his shoulder, just to test how he might respond. His breath caught, and for a second, you thought he might stiffen or push you away. But instead, he shifted, subtly adjusting himself until he was sitting closer to you, and you were a little more tucked into his side.

The quiet game was starting, but neither of you acknowledged it. It wasn’t a decision made consciously, just two people testing the waters, inch by inch, seeing how far they could go without tipping the balance.

You let your body relax into him, slowly, and before long, you felt his hand shift again. This time, it slid from your shoulder to your waist. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken.

You couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment, but before you knew it, you were fully pressed against him. His arm had slid fully around your shoulders now, and your legs were tangled together on the couch. The small space between you had disappeared, leaving you both in a sort of cocoon, limbs entangled as you sat there, side by side, your body against his.

You realized that your head had shifted from his shoulder to rest against his chest, and his hand, still on your waist, had moved to hold your side as he settled further into the couch. Your leg was tucked between his, and you were pretty much half in his lap, your bodies fully intertwined.

It wasn’t awkward, though. It felt right. And before you could second-guess it, you both melted into the moment.

The show was still on in the background, but neither of you were paying attention. Your focus was on each other now—on the way your bodies fit together, the way your hearts were pounding in the silence that surrounded you.

But before you could even process how close you had become, Liam’s voice interrupted.

“Oi, what’s this, then?” he said, standing at the door with his arms crossed, clearly amused by the sight of you two tangled up on the couch. “You two look like a bloody pair of lovebirds.”

Noel tensed immediately, his hand almost going stiff where it rested on your waist, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he gave Liam a lazy glance, still keeping you close.

“Piss off, Liam.” Noel muttered, but it lacked any real heat. His voice was soft, almost protective, like he didn’t want anyone messing with this moment.

You, embarrassed but still laughing, tried to shift away just a little, but Noel’s hand tightened on your waist, keeping you exactly where you were.

“Jesus, Noel. You’ve got her all curled up like a cat.” Liam snickered, but after a moment, he sighed and turned to leave, muttering something about you two getting all soppy.

Once Liam was gone, you glanced back up at Noel. He seemed almost unsure, his eyes flicking to you with a mix of confusion and something else—something you couldn’t quite name yet. You weren’t sure if he was second-guessing the way things had unfolded, but when you shifted in his arms to get more comfortable, you didn’t hesitate. You slipped right back into his embrace, practically shimming your way in once again.

He froze for a second, caught off guard, but when he looked down at you, he didn’t pull away. His arm automatically slid around you once more. “Aren’t you gettin’ a bit too comfy now?” he asked, his voice a little shaky, but he tried to make it sound casual.

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Oh yeah, I’ve got the best seat in the house.” you said, a little playfulness in your voice. You felt the familiar warmth spreading through your chest as his arm tightened around you.

You both settled back, the closeness no longer feeling so new. There was something more natural about it now, as though you had finally crossed the line into something deeper.

And when you both laughed at something stupid on screen, you looked up at him. No words were needed. The kiss came easily, both of you giving into it without hesitation.

As it deepened, the urgency became undeniable. His lips pressed harder against yours, and you could feel the way his body moved closer.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands, feeling his chest against yours as the kiss grew more desperate. You felt his fingers brush down your back, pulling you into him, his body responding just as eagerly as yours.

His lips trailed down your jaw and then to your neck, a soft breath escaping his lips as he kissed along the curve of your skin. You tilted your head, giving him more room, the feeling of his lips against your neck made you shiver, your pulse racing with the intimacy of it all.

When he pulled back, his hands still resting on your back, his eyes quickly found yours. There was a flicker of hesitation, of something unspoken.

You felt the same tension in the air, and for once, you both knew exactly what it was. You’d been dancing around it for weeks, the subtle touches, the stolen glances, the moments when neither of you could pretend anymore.

Noel swallowed, his voice low, almost hesitant, but there was something raw in it that you could feel in your chest. "I—" he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know if I’ve ever… been this sure about anything. About you.” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes flicking down to your lips and then back to your eyes.

You held his gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.” you murmured, your fingers gently brushing along his jaw.

“No,” he said quickly, his hand gripping your wrist gently but firmly, pulling it back to his chest. “I need to say it. Because I’m bloody terrified of this, yeah, but… I need you to know. I… I think I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air for a while, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he looked at you with a vulnerable expression.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face. The ache in your chest had been there all along, but hearing him finally say it out loud made everything feel right. You leaned in and kissed him softly, just a press of lips, to reassure him that you felt the same.

When you pulled back, you smiled, your hand still resting on his chest, your fingers brushing his shirt. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while, too.” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

A relieved laugh escaped him, and he leaned his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “About bloody time, eh?”

You giggled, and your lips found his again, kissing him more deeply this time. You felt his hands sliding to your back, pulling you closer, and your legs shifted, making you slip into his lap with a soft gasp.

His lips moved to your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he groaned, his lips brushing over your pulse point before kissing along the curve of your neck.

You shifted again, your body pressing against his in a way that felt so right, so perfect. Your lips were swollen now, yet neither of you cared, not when you were so lost in the way it felt to be so close to each other. His hands moved back up to your neck, and you gasped when his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, kissing it lightly before nibbling gently.

You could feel him smile against your skin, and you laughed softly. When you pulled away for a moment, breathless, you looked at him and whispered, “So, are we official now?”

Noel smirked, his hands still on your waist, and for a second, you both just looked at each other, grinning like idiots. “I’d say so,” he said, his voice low, full of a playful confidence you hadn’t heard before. “But just so you know, you’re stuck with me now. Don’t think you can get rid of me that easy.”

You laughed, kissing him again, your fingers trailing over his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured against his lips, before diving back into the kiss, both of you losing yourselves in the moment, unable to stop.

________________________________________

cute cute cute xxx

loved the request, I love domestic stuff like that. Hope all you lot will like it as well !!

also, love Noel being labelled as Liam in the gif (swear down I don't know how people confuse them, they look dead different? similar features ofc but come on)

Pt. 2 here x

[oacest]

Oasis songwriter Noel Gallagher tonight went to console his troubled brother Liam over the singer's arrest on suspicion of possessing drugs - but went to the wrong house. Noel strolled up to his brother's terraced home in St John's Wood, north London with his girlfriend Meg, but knocked on the wrong door and had to shuffle his feet in embarrassment as he was told Liam lived next door. (x)(x)

[leaawrites]

Study Session

Liam Galagher x fem!reader

Summary: Tutoring Liam was hell, but it brought an advantage. He was eager to get her attention in every way possible.

Warnings: heavy making out (mdni, 18+ only), heavy language, friends to strangers to lovers, not proof read

Wordcount: 2.2k

Masterlist

She wished it had been a joke, a dream at best. One where she could wake up from and not fear the middle of the day. But now she was standing in front of an all too familiar door with shaking fingers hovering over the bell.

It wasn’t like she believed the words of her friends about Liam being a maniac and how doomed anyone around him was. He was crazy, but not a maniac. She knew that. Growing up with him showed her that. It showed her every facade he had, the soft and angry ones as well as the freaky and shy ones.

When Peggy asked her if she could help him out with some school work, she wanted to say no immediately. It wasn’t like she hated him, quite the opposite, but sitting in his room again after years of no contact made her more nervous than the actual exam they would be studying for. But she couldn’t turn the woman down, especially when she doubted that Liam explained anything about why they stopped talking over night and why she never visited their house again.

She was gone from his mind the moment the cool guys wanted to hang out with him.

It still sounded the same, the way she could hear the bell and every footstep that neared the door.

Silently praying that it wouldn’t be Liam who opened the door for her, she even less expected the other familiar face grinning at her as soon as his eyes found her standing there.

Noel greeted her with a wide smile, pulling her into a side hug.

He was one of the only people close to them that knew what happened between her and Liam, having witnessed it with his own eyes. Seeing her walk down the street towards her home from the bus station with her head hanging low on the second week of grade 7.

A loud groan came from behind him, Peggy trying to shush Liam who was currently sat in the kitchen, just receiving the news of who was at the door.

“He sounds excited,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips.

“Oh, he’s stoked.” Noel smirked, stepping aside to let her in.

It still looked the same. The same pictures were hanging on the walls or put up on dressers and the fireplace. Her bright toothy smile grinning back at her. Etching the faintest feeling of comfort on her face.

“Mam, I don’t need some stupid tutor,” Liam came complaining, walking after Peggy as she made her way towards the door after hearing the bell ring.

“Oh, you’ve already opened the door, Noeli,” her Irish accent cutting through her words, cutting off her son. “I’m so glad yer here!”

Taking a step closer, she engulfed the girl into a hug with a motherly instinct, making her feel like a child coming home after a long time away. Noel was standing next to her, eyes flickering between the two of them and Liam. The shock evident on his face.

“Hey,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Peggy pulled away, letting her line of vision be solely consistent of him.

“Alright?” she asked, not going further in friendly conversation.

“‘right,” his voice went even quieter.

“Don’t let her wait here awkwardly, you go up. Noel and I’ll be down ‘ere.” Peggy shoved Liam up the stairs first, making sure he took one step after the other and didn’t stop halfway to rush out the door and disappear like he’d done countless time at family dinners or events.

The two of them made their way upstairs, walking into the room together they’d spent hours laughing in, endless nights huddled together in his bed at the age of 5, Noel telling them ghost stories because they were too excited to sleep just yet.

She remembered how she’d cling to Liam’s arm, hide away in his too big sweatshirt he’d get from Noel when he’d grown out of it and silently mumble how everything was just a story and not real like her mother explained to her.

And Liam couldn’t get the picture out of his head how he used to mock her for getting scared so easily, saying she wasn’t ‘a real man’ if she got scared by stories, but he liked the feeling of her rushing to him for safety. He liked knowing that he was capable of protecting her. That she didn’t run into Noel’s arms anymore and make him stop talking with a pout on her lips like she’d done a year before still. She was running into his then.

“Still the same,” he breathed out, sitting down on his bed and awkwardly bouncing on it.

Letting her shove all her stuff down on his desk before she turned to him again.

“It is, yeah,” she said, looking around the room.

There were more posters on the walls than the last time she was there, more vinyls and CD’s and a new sound system that looked like it cost half a fortune. It smelled more of weed than before, but it wasn’t too heavy. It still felt the same.

“So, maths,” she said, pulling out the book from the stack. “And biology.” Another book landed on it. Making Liam groan even more.

“We don’t have to do this, y’know? We can just go out, have a smoke. Go to the pub,” Liam suggested, hoping he was still as convincing as when he still had to look up at her.

“I’m not gonna disappoint yer mam, Liam,” she answered determined, pulling out the chair and opening the first book.

Collapsing onto the mattress, he made it sound like he was about to die, but she just ignored him fully. Taking out her pen and starting to scratch down little key words of what she had to go through with him.

“Can you even do basic maths?” she asked, looking at him unconvinced after a long pause of silence.

“Course I can do basic maths, I’m not dumb,” he said, sounding genuinely offended.

“Alright,” she muttered, still not fully convinced but letting it slide still.

Scoffing again, she could feel his eyes rolling in annoyance without having to look at him. She knew how he acted. He hadn’t changed one bit.

The hours went by and with every answer she received from him, his talks between questions got longer. Stretching the time and making her even more frustrated with every time he asked, ‘how’s the weather doing?’ when she didn’t react to anything else he let out. Needing more answers, more action from her playing into his words.

He wanted to get her full attention on him again.

“Have you ever shagged someone then? Don’t reckon I’ve heard bout it from anyone,” Liam mentioned nonchalant, looking at the pictures adorning the pages in the biology book. Plants and cells and genitals every once in a while.

“Just because you haven’t heard it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” she shook his words off, writing down more questions for him to answer after she gave him a full lecture on the topic.

“Yeah, but with people like you they always talk bout it.”

Flicking through it page by page, his eyes flickering over to her every few seconds, he didn’t miss the look she gave him at his words. Hurt, embarrassed and caught off guard. ‘People like her’. Those who got barely any attention but were the centre of attention when people got bored and had to settle on those with barely any words in their dictionary of life experience. Every new one was an achievement, something worth talking about.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, quickly looking away again. He almost feels bad for his choice of words, but her next words made him feel miserable. “Maybe they were too embarrassed to say they did shag me then. Ever thought ‘bout that?”

“As if.” The scoff that left his mouth was louder than any word she’d spoken, even when she scolded him countless times and almost started screaming at him to shut up when he kept on rambling about the carrots that grew in their garden.

“Believe it or not, I don’t care. But you have to focus now, Liam. If you fail Peggy will also be disappointed into me.” It sounded genuine important to her, having Peggy be proud of her even when it was just getting Liam to pass his exams.

“Nah, me mum wouldn’t care. She know I’m shite.” Liam shrugged like it was nothing, like it was a world known fact that couldn’t be changed.

“You don’t have to be though.”

Her words were confident on her lips, making the lump in his throat rise even higher, sticking to his lungs.

“Did you actually sleep with someone? Someone from school.”

“What can I do to make you shut up and focus?”

Liam rasing his eyebrows. Ideas flooding his brain rather quickly. Ideas she could see reflecting in his eyes as they turned darker, in his smile that turned into a smirk. It was evident what was on him mind.

“No, forget it.”

“How am I s’possed to believe ya when there’s no proof.”

“I don’t care if you believe me, Liam. Focus.”

“Make me,” he challenged her, edging closer to the edge of the bed, leaning towards her.

His breath fanning down her face. Eyes focused on the paper, trying to identify the words she’d written just mere seconds before, but her vision was blurring, eyes closing and rolling as he moved his head to the side, breathing down her neck.

“Who was it?” he whispered, lips brushing her earlobe. Sending a shiver down her spine, nipples hardening at the sensation of having him so close to her again.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been on her mind on countless lonely nights, but now he was there, next to her. Breathing down her neck. Challenging her. Edging her. Almost sounding jealous.

Deciding to see if this was solely for the purpose of more talk happening the next day, she moved her head to the side, acting like the closeness of their faces was just another Thursday activity to her.

“Why do you care?” she asked, tilting her head, watching his eyes slip over her face. Over her eyes, her forehead, cheekbones, her lips.

Staying focused on them for a moment before licking his lips and answering, “Wanna make sure that that gob who made you feel worthless gets his consequence.”

A breath hitches and when he doesn’t feel her breath anymore, he knows it was her that was taken by surprise at his words and not himself and let it show.

“Liam,” she finally breathes out and his name on her lips makes him eager to listen every time she’d said it already this night. “Why are you acting like you care?”

Taken back by her words, his eyebrows shot up, eyes crinkling in confusion. “Because I do.”

“You don’t. You haven’t cared for four years, why do you have to start now, when -” cutting herself off, she stopped her heart from taking over her mind. She wanted to tell him, wanted him to know what she had to live with ever since she saw him falling head first into the sandbox at the age of three. The feelings she had to bottle up for years.

“When what?” he asked, her words not going unnoticed by him. “What is it, love?”

“I just thought I’ve finally gotten over you after years of yearning for you and now you start with this shit. It’s not- It’s not fair, Liam. So, please, stop and focus.”

Staring down at the paper, rapidly trying to blink away tears that formed in her eyes as she spoke and saw the playfulness leave his eyes, she didn’t see the realisation form on his face. The fucking-finally-moment making it’s way towards the front of his mind.

“You fucking idiot,” he mumbled, laughing as he shook his head. “You think I don’t fancy you?”

Instead of an answer, he only got her to stop the nervous tapping of her pen against the notebook. Eyes not looking his way until he took her jaw in between his fingers and turned her towards him. Mortification raging in her eyes.

He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“Fuck, love, I’ve been mad for you since kindergarten. Proper sleaze just to get your attention when you’d scold me.”

And then, he pulled her even closer, closing the gap between them. Making her gasp against his lips and letting his tongue slip into her mouth. Moving as one, he took her waist, making her stumble out of the chair and onto his lap. Both her hands finding their way up into his hair, brushing through it, tucking at the strands when she’d slightly move over his jeans and feel him pressing up against her. A moan escaping her lips at the feeling.

“You were fucking pathetic for getting yourself in trouble to get my attention,” she said, breathing heavily after she pulled away to catch her breath.

“I knew after you discovered Barbies I had to be inventive,” Liam mumbled against her lips, pulling her in once more before he remembered how they even got into this position.

“So who was it?” he mumbled against her lips.

A chuckle escaping her lips that was quickly killed by his mouth.

He couldn’t be fucking serious.

[spac3d0lls]

my fav headcanon is that ocean and noel grew up in the same apartment complex. they were next door neighbors and noel’s mother, who was a nurse who worked late nights, wanted her son to have a friend and introduced herself and her son to the rosenbergs. she noticed that the girl was dirty and neglected, but against her better judgement, she never reported or confronted her parents. uranium is a small town—she didn’t want to make assumptions or endanger another family’s reputation knowing how fast rumors spread.

as ocean grew, so did the differences between her and noel. the adults of uranium city saw just a driven and ambitious young woman, another one of the smart ones who would pack up and leave once given the opportunity. the kids saw someone who was snotty, arrogant, and desperate for attention.

noel and his mother saw a girl who was scared and neglected.

while uranium city saw a straight a, naturally gifted valedictorian, noel slept through the sound of his door opening and quietly locking in the middle of the night, knowing that ocean would study in his tiny dining room when the stench of her own apartment became unbearable. sometimes, noel would find her asleep his the couch in the morning. those days, he’d toast bread, make coffee, and scramble eggs, leaving them on his coffee table for when ocean would wake up. there was never any expectation for acknowledging this fact, nor any expectation for a thank you. but ocean was silently grateful.

while uranium city saw a teenager who was always clean and put together, ms. gruber opened her door one day to a ten year old ocean blushing crimson, having been laughed off by her parents after she told them about her first period. ms. gruber taught her about her body, hugging her tightly after ocean started crying out of embarrassment, and realizing that her hair was greasy and knotted. since that day, she would come home with noel after school to use their shower daily, traumatized by the prospect of only bathing when rain would fall. ms. gruber kept her cabinets stocked with double the hygiene products ever since.

when uranium city heard that their rising star had been killed in a rollercoaster accident, they mourned her. but the rosenberg family never showed to verify their daughter’s body. ms. gruber tearfully confirmed that it was ocean.

[pollyypocket]

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Liam Gallagher x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Where a girl follows her favourite band around on tour as a "groupie" but soon gets pushed away by their new manager (Inspired by the movie; Almost Famous)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : cigarettes and alcohol, swearing.

We were all sat on the tour bus smoking, drinking and yapping away. However, Noel and Liam decided to get into another fight while i just sat observing what was going down. Earlier in the day it was mentioned to them that they would be getting a new tour manager half way through tour and to which one agreed and the other didn’t. The rest of the band decided that they didn’t want to get involved, they just let the 2 brothers get to it.

“Well Liam I think this would be a great opportunity for us to have a change don’t you think?” “No! Noel it could mess everything up for us we don’t even know this man he appeared out of no where” “Well it’s not like we get a say in it at all” "That's the point! You've just proven my point!"

I was sat there listening in on what they were shouting about while my finger did laps around the beer bottle top quickly humming a random tune to myself. When all of a sudden it got snatched away from me. “Let’s go Y/N”. I looked up at the stubborn younger brother who walked towards the back of the van in a strop, sighing I decided to follow him since I had no other choice.

“This is all fucked, all of it” I just nodded listening to what he had to say so he could get it all out of his system. “What’s your thoughts on it?”. My head perked up at the questions curious as to why Liam asked me. “I don’t know…” He looked defeated knowing his answer wouldn’t change whatever happened. I soon got engulfed into a hug, I could tell he needed it. He needed someone to confide with. “Is that all you needed me for? For me to say ‘I don’t know’”. The boy smirked waving the beer bottle in front of my face teasingly, I tried to grab it but each time he moved it further and further away to the point where I couldn’t reach it anymore.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

I was stood at the side of the stage. Oasis was halfway through their set, when a man came and stood next to me. "You must be Y/N" I turn my head and see him holding his hand out, he was around 6 foot with brunette hair and glasses sitting a bit too far forward on his nose. "Uh Yes! That's me" I hesitantly reached forward with my hand and made contact with his. "Well it's very nice to see you" "Yeah you too" I gave him a dirty look just so he got the hint I didn't want to talk to him but he kept going. "So how long have you known Liam?" "A few months." I said slowly nodding pushing my lips together "And you're touring with them?" "Yes?" at this point i was more curious with what he wanted to talk about but Liam caught my eye. He was strutting around on stage looking towards us, he gave me a confused look but I just shrugged indicating I didn't know what was going on. "I'm going to head to the toilet" I said with a polite smile.

In reality I wanted to get away from the strange man, confused as to who he was. I grabbed my bag and starting walking towards the stage door pulling out my packet of cigarettes. I don't know how long I was stood out here but got snapped back into reality when I heard cheers emerge from inside the stadium. Before I could even open the door my body clashed with someone else's. "What are you doing out here" I recognised the voice, it was Noel. "Oh, I just needed some fresh air..." Noel lit his own cig and stared at my face to see if I was lying. I mean I wasn't lying. "Liam saw you talking to Mike..." "Who's Mike?" "The new tour manager" … Then it hit me, that's why he was asking me so many questions, and that's why I didn't recognise him. "Liam's not happy" he scoffed in annoyance "Well how was I supposed to know who he is" "I don't know" he just shrugged and took a drag of his cigarette. Noel and I barley talk, not because we didn't like each other, just because I knew what part I played being out here with them. "Bye." I opened the door and walked straight towards the green room. I don't know why Liam would be mad, all I did answer his questions. I pushed open the door hearing bickering coming from inside the room. "Ah there she is" I snapped out of my trance when I heard the man from before announced me walking in. I gave them all a sly smile until I saw Liam looking miserable on the sofa. I walked over to him, to ask him what was up but he didn't seem to talk but his body language told me everything, Noel was right he wasn't happy.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

We all got back into the tour bus one by one. I sat down next to Liam who still hasn't said a word. "Y/N, can we have a chat please" my head shot up at the sound of my name being called. It was Mike.

"Um Sure". Before I got up I looked over at Liam to see him now sad? Why would he be sad. He gave me a reassuring nod telling me to go while taking a swig from his bottle.

"So I need to talk to you about something" "Oh uh sure, what is it" "After tomorrows show you're leaving" "What?" "I said you're leaving" "But why?" "It's a bad look for you and a bad look for them" "For them!!! They're rock n roll stars for god sake. they're the biggest band in the world, everyone loves their look" "As their new manager I need you to go" I looked at him in disbelief, this was so out of the blue "Well they didn't want you anyways!" "LIAR!".

A/N : Im sorry if this is bad; I haven't written in ages and wanted to do something based off of my favourite movie!

[majinael]

pt3 of vulnerable

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

★2,7k words

★part1 & part2

★songs associated : ma meilleure amie & nervous

The next day was a special one—Bastard München was playing, and I had the opportunity to stand next to Noel Noa to watch the match. Excitement bubbled inside me, impossible to contain. Every time Michael scored, every time he pulled off one of those breathtaking, seemingly effortless moves, I was on my feet, cheering as loudly as the crowd around me. My heart soared with every goal, with every flick of his hair as he moved across the pitch like a king ruling his domain.

When the game ended 3-2 in our favor, my chest felt tight, my heart pounding like a drum. I had never been so utterly captivated by a football match before.

But Michael… he hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction.

At first, I thought he might have been too focused on the game, lost in the adrenaline of victory. But as we gathered to head back to the facility, I caught sight of him, earbuds in, leaning casually against the bus. Summoning my courage, I approached him, eager to congratulate him on his stellar performance.

“Michael,” I began, a smile tugging at my lips.

He did not glance at me. The soft hum of music filling the space as he slipped past me, boarding the bus without a word.

Was he… ignoring me?

The ride back was quiet. I took a seat near the front, just behind Noel. My thoughts swirled like the rain now streaking the bus windows. I watched droplets race each other down the glass, feeling a strange hollowness settle in my chest.

Days turned into a week, each one dragging longer than the last. Michael avoided me entirely, his silence more deafening than any argument could have been. Every attempt I made to reach him—to talk, to understand—was met with indifference, or him telling me he was busy, leaving me standing there, helpless.

That Friday evening, I sat alone in my office, staring at the papers scattered across my desk. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders. My heart, once so full of hope, felt cracked and fragile. Maybe I had misjudged everything. Maybe Michael just needed space, time to process whatever was bothering him. Or maybe… I wasn’t as important to him as he was to me.

I sighed, my head falling onto my crossed arms. Sleep crept in before I could stop it, pulling me into restless dreams. I just hope you’re okay, I thought before the darkness swallowed me.

The following days were colder, emptier, and eerily quiet as I tried to act like I didn’t know him at all anymore. Winter was settling in, and with it came a new wave of sickness among the players and staff. My work became my escape, a distraction from the void Michael’s absence left in my life. I had not knew him for so long but oh, whatever was so endearing with my time spent with him, I couldn’t help but feel empty to the thought I’ll never feel that way again. But every patient warmed my heart a little, their small victories distracting me from my aching loss. Still, whenever I passed Michael in the hallways, his silence cut deeper than I liked to admit and trying to match it was furthering the torture.

Just another windy day, as I was in the medical wing, setting up for yet another examination, my back turned to the door. The familiar shuffle of someone entering barely registered—I’d grown used to it. But when I turned to greet them, I froze.

There he was.

Michael stood by the door, his piercing ocean eyes locked onto mine. His gaze was different, not cocky, not vulnerable, not cold, just.. Michael, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. For a moment, I thought I might be too tired and not seeing properly. I blinked several times, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, but he was still there.

It was Michael.

And I couldn’t bring myself to hold a grudge. Whatever had happened, whatever pain or hesitation had kept him away, it didn’t matter now. Not when he was standing in front of me, his presence as overwhelming as ever.

"Hi. Rare to see you here." I smiled, even as the muscles in my cheeks warned they’d hurt soon.

Michael pinched his lips together, hesitant. “I’ve been…”

“Sick?” I finished for him.

He nodded silently, moving to sit on the examination table. His usual confident aura was replaced by a visible weight in his movements.

I slipped on my gloves, taking deliberate steps toward him. His tired eyes lifted to meet mine, a flicker of vulnerability in them.

“What’s wrong?”

“My stomach hurts, and I feel like throwing up,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s odd. No coughing? Fever?”

He shook his head, avoiding my gaze. As I performed the basic checks, my eyes drifted to the faint marks on his neck—barely visible, but I noticed them.

“I don’t see anything physically wrong,” I admitted, stepping back to give him space.

His eyes, wide and almost pleading, looked up at me. Something in his expression made my heart clench painfully.

“But,” I added, softening, “I can give you some natural remedies for now. I won’t prescribe anything stronger until I’m sure of what’s going on—I don’t want to risk making it worse. Come back in a day or two if it doesn’t improve, okay?”

I turned, preparing a small bag of remedies—infusions, natural lozenges, and a list of foods to avoid.

"Could you... prescribe me that cream from last time?"

My hand paused. The courage it must’ve taken him to bring that up wasn’t lost on me. I turned, offering a soft smile.

“Of course.”

I scribbled down the prescription, the silence settling between us until he broke it.

“Why did you cheer for me last match?”

The question caught me off guard, but I didn’t stop writing. “Why wouldn’t I, Michael?”

From behind me, I heard the creak of him leaning back on the examination table, followed by a faint chuckle.

“You saw me like this.”

“And?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Does that take away the fact that you’re the most amazing player in this club?”

His silence filled the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

I turned fully, meeting his gaze directly. “Michael, just because I’ve seen you in a weakened state doesn’t mean I think you’re weak. If anything, it’s the opposite.”

His eyes flicked away from mine, as if my words were too much for him to handle.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” I asked, taking a step closer.

He didn’t answer, but his hands fidgeted slightly on his lap. Gently, I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“To me, you’re Michael Kaiser. The incredible football player. Strong, passionate, smart, and yes, even funny...sometimes. You’re someone worth cheering for. Don’t doubt that.”

I paused, my voice dropping. “But most importantly... you’re my friend too.”

His posture shifted—tense shoulders relaxing, fingers stilling, and his gaze slowly lifting to mine. The vulnerability in his eyes nearly undid me.

“You’re important,” I said, taking a step back. “And... it doesn’t feel the same when you act like I don’t exist in your world.”

Turning slightly, I grabbed the soothing cream, pouring some into my palm. His body stilled, but when I approached, he tilted his head, exposing the marks on his neck as if silently inviting my care.

My fingers worked gently over his skin, the cool cream contrasting with his warmth. He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch for just a fleeting moment before catching himself.

“All done.” I smiled, washing my hands and handing him the bag. “You’re always welcome here.”

He held the bag tightly, almost like a child clutching something precious, and stood. “Thank you,” he said, voice soft and unusually vulnerable.

Kaiser lingered outside the door after it shut behind him. His chest felt tight—was it the remedies? No. It was you.

Were you an angel? He shook his head, almost laughing at the thought. Yet, no other explanation felt right. Why was he so drawn to your kindness, your attention, your warmth? Why did your smile feel like it soothed even the pain he hadn’t told you about?

And why was he so damn incapable of giving anything back?

He had never experienced love like this before. He never knew what it felt like to be cared for—not like this, not without strings attached. And it overwhelmed him.

He froze mid-step, the thought weighing heavy. You thought he was strong—even after seeing this side of him. Even knowing what he was doing behind the scenes.

“A friend?” he muttered under his breath. The word sounded foreign. What did that even mean? How was a friend supposed to be treated?

His mind spiraled, recalling everything he’d studied about psychology, but none of it seemed relevant now. He didn’t want to manipulate you like he had with Ness. You deserved something real.

[AN : NESS DESERVES IT TOO!!!!]

He imagined giving you a gift, or even taking care of you in return, and the idea made him cringe—partly because he couldn’t picture himself doing it, and partly because he wasn’t sure he’d ever be enough.

But he couldn’t let you slip away. No, that wasn’t it. He wouldn’t.

Because he was addicted to this feeling. He would come back with an excuse just like today.

For the first time in his life, he felt loved. He felt seen.

And he didn’t want to run from it anymore.

That night, Kaiser did what he knew best—he turned to books. He ordered them online, scrolling through a collection that made him cringe just reading the synopses. Sappy stories about best friends, loyalty, and the so-called "power of friendship." It was laughable, really. He almost closed the browser a dozen times, but his fingers kept clicking, driven by a restless, gnawing feeling he couldn’t name.

When the books arrived, they sat unopened on his desk for days, their once glossy covers now covered in a small layer of dust a silent reminder of his impulsive decision. One night, as the hours dragged on and the silence of his apartment grew heavier, his eyes drifted to them again.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. What am I even doing? The absurdity of it all hit him like a punch to the gut. From an outsider’s perspective, he must have looked ridiculous—a man of his caliber wasting time on clichés he didn’t even believe in some time ago.

His gaze shifted to the smaller package sitting beside the books, its edges slightly worn from how often he’d looked at it, touched it, thought about it. He picked it up, his fingers almost hesitant. The familiar weight of it brought a strange warmth to his chest.

Carefully, he opened it, revealing a pendant that caught the dim light of his room. His thumb brushed over its surface, tracing the grooves of a rose as if committing every single detail to memory. A faint smile pulled at his lips, soft and unguarded, the kind of smile he never let anyone see.

“Dumbass,” he muttered under his breath, the word slipping out more fondly than he intended.

He glanced at the collection of medals hanging on the wall—tangible proof of his victories, his ego, everything he’d worked for. But this pendant wasn’t a trophy, and it wasn’t a victory. Not yet. Still, if it belonged anywhere, it was there, among the symbols of what he valued most.

Standing, he carefully hung it with the medals, letting it rest among them as if it had always been meant to be there. It felt… right. Even if the battle it represented was far from won, this was where it belonged—for now.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d figure out the rest later.

it's becoming hard to write him in character as he begins to slowly change atp but I hope the reasons of why make enough sense and therefore doesn't feel ooc :s see you tmr at 8PM UTC+1 for part4 !

[nglgfics]

Stubble

Masterlist

It started on a Tuesday.

You hadn’t planned to go over. You were cold, tired, and mildly in a mood, so you texted him mostly out of instinct.

You: You in?

His reply came in seconds later:

Noel: House is a mess. I look feral. Still want to see me?

You replied with one word:

You: Obviously

You didn’t expect anything unusual. Hoodie. Sofa. Maybe him half-playing something on his guitar, not looking up until you stole a crisp from the bag beside him.

What you didn’t expect was the stubble.

He opened the door and your brain went static for a second.

You stared at his face. “What the hell is that?”

He blinked. “Hello to you too.”

“No. What’s happening here?” You pointed, already walking in. “That’s new.”

He scratched his jaw like he’d forgotten. He hadn’t. “Didn’t shave.”

“You always shave.”

“Not religiously.”

“Lies. You’ve been clean-shaven for like… the entire time I’ve known you. Your face has had a routine. A brand. And now suddenly you’ve gone rogue?”

He shut the door, leaning back against it like this was hilarious. “It’s barely anything.”

“It’s enough,” you said, turning back to him. “It’s enough to ruin my night.”

That made him grin. One of those low, lopsided ones that made your knees slightly less reliable.

“Oh, it’s ruining you?” he said, stepping closer.

“Absolutely. I’m already mad about it.”

“You look mad. In a real… flustered sort of way.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“Sure.”

“I’m just… adjusting.”

He cocked his head, and that tiny shift made the stubble even more obvious. There was just a hint of silver in it, right at the chin, and the rest was soft, uneven, unfair. You wanted to be cooler about it. But your body had already filed the paperwork. You were gone.

“You can touch it,” he said, eyes dancing.

You folded your arms. “I’m not that predictable.”

“Yes, you are.”

You stepped closer anyway and reached up, fingers brushing along his jaw. The stubble was warm, rough, exactly as tempting as it looked. You let your hand linger for a beat too long.

He didn’t move. He didn’t need to.

“You’re obsessed,” he murmured.

“Maybe.”

“You’re absolutely feral.”

“I have no shame.”

He laughed, soft and smug, but there was something in his eyes that made your stomach flip. He was soaking it in. Not just the attention—the way you looked at him. Like you couldn’t help it.

“Can’t stop staring,” he said.

“You’re literally designed to distract me right now.”

“You like the grey in it?”

You made a small sound. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

He leaned in, voice lower now, gentler. “Say it.”

You looked at him, dead serious. “I love it. I love all of it. I want to keep it in a little box and pet it when I’m sad.”

He smiled, almost sweetly. “That’s deeply weird.”

“It’s deeply honest.”

“You want to kiss me right now, don’t you?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“No,” he said, all innocence. “Just trying to figure out what happens next.”

You kissed him. Harder than you meant to. The stubble scratched at your mouth—rough, perfect, addictive. You melted into it before you could stop yourself.

When you pulled away, you were breathless.

He wasn’t. “You’re done for.”

“Fully.”

“Should I keep it?”

“If you shave it off, I will walk out of this house and never speak to you again.”

He grinned. “You’re threatening me over stubble?”

“No,” you said, pulling him back in. “I’m threatening you because you know what it does to me.”

He kissed you this time, slow and deliberate. And when you opened your eyes, he was still smiling.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I really, really do.”

——

You tried not to bring it up.

You really did. You made it through the first half of dinner with your friends without saying a word—smiled when someone brought up their chaotic Tinder date, nodded along to work stories, sipped your wine like a well-adjusted person.

But someone eventually asked: “So… how’s Noel?”

And you cracked.

“He has stubble now,” you said.

All conversation at the table paused. One beat. Two.

“He what?”

You nodded solemnly. “I walked into his house and he opened the door like it was nothing. Joggers. T-shirt. And stubble. Two days, maybe three. He didn’t even say anything. Just let me stand there and suffer.”

The looks you got were a mix of intrigue and amusement.

“And that’s… big news?”

“Oh, you don’t understand,” you said, putting your glass down. “He’s always clean-shaven. Like, religiously. His jaw could cut glass. And now suddenly he’s got this soft, scruffy, wildly smug thing going on and I am not okay.”

One of them blinked. “You’ve seen a man with stubble before.”

“Not this man,” you said. “Not this exact combination of face, attitude, and hair growth. It’s a problem.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It’s catastrophic. I touched it once and immediately kissed him. And then kissed him again, because it scratched and I liked it. Like some kind of deranged moth to a flame. He said I looked flustered. I was. I still am.”

They laughed. You pressed on.

“And he’s milking it. All casual, all innocent—‘Oh, did I forget to shave?’ Please. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“He’s probably forgotten about it by now.”

You laughed bitterly. “No he hasn’t.”

And just then—because the universe has a flair for drama—your phone buzzed.

Noel: Still out?

You stared at the screen.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

They all leaned in. “Is it him?”

You nodded. “He knows.”

You: Still at dinner. Why?

Noel: Just checking. Wanted to know if you’re thinking about my face.

Your friends lost it.

“He’s teasing you,” one of them howled.

“He’s the devil,” you muttered, texting back with burning cheeks.

You: I’m trying to be normal. Stop ruining it.

Noel: Didn’t say anything. Just existing.

And then another buzz.

A selfie.

The worst kind: low-effort, hoodie, slightly messy hair, half a smirk, and the stubble. It looked almost darker now. Like it had grown in with full malicious intent. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The caption:

Noel: Still feral?

You dropped your head to the table. “I hate him.”

“Let us see.”

You held up your phone and they all groaned in unison.

“Oh no. You’re done for.”

“Tell him to shave it off before it’s too late.”

You looked up slowly. “If he shaves it off, I’ll key his guitar.”

There was silence. Then uncontrollable laughter.

“You’re insane.”

“Possibly. But I’m not wrong.”

You: You’re evil.

Noel: You’re obsessed.

You: And you love it.

There was a pause. Then:

Noel: I really do.

You locked your phone, grinning like a woman possessed.

“He still has it?” someone asked.

You nodded, smug now. “He still has it.”

[valkierrie]

ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ.

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

Warning(s): (Liam Gallagher smut), swearing, alcohol.

Plot: Y/N was considered by others to be tied down by her religion. She didn't think she needed anything apart from her bible, but upon meeting Liam Gallagher, he shows her the pleasures of life she was taught was taboo and opens her up to a world of Enlightenment.

Word count: 6.4K

A/N: A story I've been dying to get out, don't worry, I will be back on the requests for the Damon girlies and the one Noel request as well as Ian Brown. This story was hell to write and even worst to edit. Enjoy.

X

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

The chapel was packed, as it normally was on Sunday mornings. The church was bigger than most and could hold twice the size. The soft smell of freshly baked chocolate chip biscuits filled the air as worship leaders served them to entering bodies of people. I chose to sit towards the front. Not the front row, but two or three rows behind it. My own biscuit rested on top of a white napkin and set beside my Bible on the wooden bench.  

As people filed, filling up the seats left and right, I wore the usual. A long-sleeved shirt tucked into a long skirt, finished off with the usual smile that was on my face when my eyes met someone else’s. There was the familiar sound of chatter as couples greeted couples and families greeted families.  

Pastor Thomas took his place on the high platform, behind the large, white altar. His tall figure stood before the church, looking over all of us with an intense level of authority. Which to some extent, one could argue he had. The chatters turned to murmurs before it went to silence. He had that power. He didn’t need to speak to command a room, but when he did, everyone listened. Myself included. I admired him dearly. Always impressed with his self-control and discipline—qualities I lacked and wished dearly to grasp with the same firm hold he had on them. 

“Good morning.” Pastor Thomas greeted. 

There was a chorus of greetings all throughout the congregation. 

“Now, today’s sermon is going to be a little different.” He glanced around at the rows of families, his face in an expression that I couldn’t quite decipher. “Let’s have our little ones onto the room next door, please.” He signalled for one of the worship leaders, who was guided the kids towards himself.  

Parents ushered their small children towards the worship leader, some tinkering or fixing their clothes before nudging them towards him. He led them out of the large worship hall we were in and took them elsewhere. There were small conversations and shuffles as the transition occurred. 

Pastor Thomas gathered everyone’s attention back. “Right.” He coughed. “Dear brothers and sisters in Christ—” His voice falters, as if the titles were poison at the edge of his tongue. “Though, I hesitate to call you that. Let’s not lie in the house of the Lord, you are all sinners.”  

There was an echo of whispers all around the flock. 

“Yes, each and every single one of you.” Pastor Thomas didn’t waver; his tone was cold and convicting. “As I am very clearly pure in the eyes of the Father, I am your shepherd, and it is my duty to make sure your souls aren’t dragged to the pits of hell.”  

There was a small pause between his words, allowing us to take it all in. I wasn’t too sure I was taking it in well. I understood what he was saying, and it wasn’t anything new. He always spoke in this tone, but lately something strange had been simmering. I didn’t know how to go about it, really.  I found myself doing less of the expected head-nodding and seal-clapping, instead my brow rose.  I may have looked up to the man, but one couldn’t help but...inquire on his choice of words when he preached. I tried to orient myself in the way he preached, and the more I tried, the harder the feeling unsettlement settled. Even now, I was uncertain, but there wasn’t exactly anyone I could go about my thoughts with.  

“Today, I bring upon you a topic that has been plaguing our youths and poisoning them, worse than any alcohol and drug in the world.” He spoke gesturally, using his hands to emphasise his point. “Fornication. Sexual intercourse before marriage.” Pastor Thomas’ hands touched the pulpit softly, though his grip was firm. “This topic isn’t up for debate, it is clear in the book, First Corinthians, chapter six, verse eighteen. You are to ‘flee from sexual immorality’ but instead today what do I see? The complete opposite. One can only wonder what our Lord in heaven and what I think about it all.” 

There was silence, only sounds being made was the silent shuffling made by the movements of heads in agreement.  

“Even something as small as the thought of fornication is destined take you to eternal hellfire. Unless you follow me, your fate is sealed.” 

I adjusted my posture uncomfortably, moving my shoulders slowly. That last sentence felt targeted towards me specifically. Though there wasn’t any logical explanation or concrete evidence that it was, that didn’t stop my mind from betraying me. As of recently, I’ve been having... less than holier thoughts. The fleeting, unbidden thoughts. The kind that left small yet remanent wet patches on my undergarments. The yearning desire was strong, I didn’t understand why I felt this way, nor did I want to know. There was no way I was going to talk to anyone about it and risk the inevitable judgement that was to come. I couldn't. I picked up my Bible, like a sigil that was meant to protect me from the civil war in my mind. It wasn’t me anymore—the girl who found peace in a place like this. The sentiment was nothing show of a distant memory; I wasn’t so sure that I fit in anymore. 

“I decree today...” Pastors Thomas set his gaze firmly on the congregation with importance, as if the following words that would come out of his mouth would become the next testimonies of the New Testament. “That as long as you abide to my words, your soul will be saved. If you don’t, don’t expect to be remembered for anything aside from choosing to separate yourself from God, after all, no one mourns the wicked.” 

That was the last of what he said about it, and it left a dry taste in my mouth. Something felt wrong—something was wrong. Ironically, it felt like God was trying to tell me something at that moment. Pastor Thomas’ words covered my ears and his presence blinded my eyes. As the rest of the service went by, rather forgettably, my regard shifted to the glass windows. For what seemed like a few seconds, my thoughts drifted to what could have been, without any of it. The judgement or the expectation. The light peering through was bright, enticing, almost beckoning. Pastor’s Thomas’ words still lingered in my head as I walked home.  

“You finally back to the land of the living, love?” Eliza called out as I walked into the flat. Eliza, my darling antithesis of a flatmate, laid on the sofa, feet tucked under her as she applied layers mascara over her eyes. 

I sighed, removing my flats and leaving them beside the door. It took a few strides for me to reach the sofa and plop down beside her. 

“How was it?” She asked, her gaze still fixed on the small mirror on her lap. 

“Fine.” 

“Uh, oh,” she teased, “that sounds eventful.” 

“Eliza, please, save the sarcasm for another time. I’m not in the mood.” 

Eliza smirked, moving her gaze from the mirror to me. “What’s going on?” 

“Why do you think anything’s going on?” 

“You usually have that stupid smile on your face after ev’ry church visit.” 

A tired sigh escaped my lips. “Do you...” There was a flicker of hesitation in my tone. “At church today, something felt off...” 

Eliza rose a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Well...” I sat up, straightening my back. I wasn’t exactly sure how to sum up what was going through my mind in simple words. “Pastor Thomas was preaching about fornication.” 

“Is that what’s got your knickers in a bunch?” Eliza rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you once and I’ll say it again a million times, getting a few good shags once in a while won’t kill ya.” 

“It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it.” 

Eliza adjusted her position, turning her crossed legged self towards me, her head tilting ever-so sightly. 

“He was authoritative, it felt as if he was playing God—or he thought that he was God. It felt cultish.” I sighed, this time not out of tiredness, but in discord. “It’s stupid. Maybe I’m just overthinking it...” 

“It’s not stupid, you’re just...curious, that’s okay.” 

“It shouldn’t be like that though...right?” 

“How should I know, I haven’t been to a church in years, let alone picked up a bible.” Eliza snorted. 

The humour in the situation hadn’t caught up to me, Eliza could see that. She placed the tube of her mascara on the coffee table, grinning. “Tell you what—I’m going to the pub downtown with a couple mates, why don’t you come?” 

“A pub, really?” I blinked. 

“Hey, don’t knock it,” She laughed, using her knee to nudge mine. “A change of scenery’ll do you some good. In addition, you get to see me in ideal element—chugging down pints.” 

“Of course.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I wasn’t sure what prompted me to accept her invitation, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt, especially since it I was adamant that this was going to be a one-time thing.  

Eliza squealed, pulling me into a small hug as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. 

The evening took over quicker than I had anticipated, and I found myself stood at the entrance of a dodgy building, adjusting the blouse Eliza had begged me to wear. 

“If you’re not going to wear anything flattering,” She had told me, rummaging through her closet. “Then at least wear this.” She had pulled out a small white blouse. The shirt was cropped at the bottom, the neckline was a low V-neck. Not low enough to give my mother a heart attack—just low. 

Eliza pulled me by the arm into the pub. The place was packed despite the size.  

“I swear,” Eliza tried to speak over the other loud conversations. “It’s never this crowded, must be a match day or summat.” She pulled me through the crowd of people. Her theory might have held validity because a few—a lot of a them wore jerseys. They stood, crowded near the bar, their gazes fixed on the small TV mounted on the wall. Screams and shouts were all over. 

Eliza led me to a small table towards one of the corner windows. She greeted the strangers sat there with a smile and a simple, “Alright?” 

There was an ensemble of greetings returned to her.  

“I brought me mate, Y/N.” Eliza nodded towards me.  

The row of eyes that fell onto me felt a bit intimidating. I gave them a simple wave before taking an empty seat. Eliza began chattin’ up one of her mates. It was clearly one she was very familiar with; anyone could tell by the way she moving her hand up and down his shoulder. From how he looked like and how Eliza had described him in prior conversations, I assumed it was her boyfriend, Alexander. I sat there awkwardly, not really sure what I could’ve done. My mind was all over the place and contrary to what Eliza had claimed, this was doing nothing to help. The yelling and rowdiness of it all rendered me unable to think clearly in the sloghtest. 

“I leave my seat for 3 seconds, and some bird’s already nicked it.” A voice broke my thoughts. 

“Excuse me?” I turned to the side, where the source of the voice came from, only to be greeted by a tall bloke. He stood with a lanky build, and short, shaggy, dark hair. He had a light blue jersey worn over his torso; the colour was almost as blue as his eyes. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips. I couldn’t lie; he looked quite fit under the low lights. 

“I said,” he repeated. “You’re in my seat.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the fumes, tapping the butt of his cigarette. 

I was taken aback by the tone, and bit annoyed. “I didn’t see you sitting in it, nor did I see a name on it.” 

“Got a right gob on ya, don’t ya.” He crossed his arm.  

I opened my mouth, ready to say something, but whatever was about to come out of my mouth was cut short when Eliza approached. “Liam, finally. Didn’t see ya, was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.” 

Liam, scoffed. “I wouldn’t show,” he mocked. “Yeah right. City’s playing United, like I’d miss that.” 

“’Course, good old Liam Gallagher just couldn’t stay away.” Eliza chuckled; she turned towards me. “Y/N, you’ve met Liam, right?” 

“Can’t say that I have.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Liam smirked; he turned to Eliza. “You’re—uh mate here stole my chair.” 

“Can’t steal something that doesn’t belong to you.” I retorted.  

“That’s Y/N for ya.” Eliza shook her head, laughing. She turned towards the bar. “I’m gonna get a drink. You two want anythin’?” 

“Just a pint for me, yeah?” 

I simply shook my head. 

“Suite yerself.” Eliza shrugged.  

“You not drinkin’?” 

I shook my head. “What’s it to you?” 

“Nowt, just askin’.” he chuckled, pulling up another chair that was left unattended. “You’re at a bar, figured you’d get a drink or summat, but then again...” His voice trailed off, and his gaze lowered to my chest, where a small, gold, crucifix necklace laid. 

“So, why’d you ask?” 

“Didn’t wanna assume.” Liam shrugged. He exhaled another cloud of smoke, allowing it to curl between us. His gaze was set on necklace once more before his eyes met mine. “What brings a bird like you out here, then?” 

“Stretching my horizons.” I responded light and sarcastically, placing my hands on my lap. 

“Right.” He rolled his eyes, tapping his cigarette against the table. “And I’m the bloody Queen.” 

“Eliza’s idea. She needs someone who isn’t pissed to take her back to the flat at the end of the night.” 

“Nice thing, that.” Liam nodded, as if processing the information. “That shirt also her idea?” He nodded towards my top. 

“Why d’you think that?” 

“It’s actually got a neckline. Gives a blokes summat interestin’ ‘bout ya to look at.” 

The statement caught me off guard, before I could respond, Eliza interrupted me once more, this time coming back with a long glass cup filled with the beverage Liam had requested, a cloud of foam overtaking the top. 

“Cheers, love.” He thanked Eliza. 

Eliza gave him a smile before returning to her other mates. Liam took sip of his drink.  

“You’ve ever had one of these?” 

I shook my head. 

“Tragic, you’re missin’ out. This is heaven, this.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” 

“It is,” Liam nodded in agreeance. “You should get one.” 

“I don’t drink.” 

“Ah, you one of ‘em proper good girls?” He smirked. 

I didn’t like that question, at all. Liam could tell; the smirk grew wider. He kept going, as if getting a rise out of me was some kind of funny humorous thing. I didn’t feel like dignifying his taunts with a response. I stood up, ready to find Eliza or elsewhere to sit.  

Liam’s hand caught my arm with a gentle grip. “C’mon, I’m just takin’ the piss. Fair play an’ all that.” His tone was still the same, but I could tell that he wasn’t outright trying to mock me. 

“Right.” I pulled my arm away. 

Liam raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’ll back down.” 

I sat back down.  

Liam smiled. “Let’s try again.” He stuck out his hand towards me. “Liam. Liam Gallagher.” 

My eyes flickered from his hand to his face. “Y/N,” reluctantly, I took and shook it. “Y/N L/N.” 

Liam leaned back, his grin widening. “So, Y/N. You ever head of Oasis?” 

“Oasis?” I repeated, trying to figure out if the band held a place of familiarity. “I’m not sure that I have, what is it?” 

Liam chuckled. “Only the best band in the fuckin’ world.” 

“Is that right?” I rose a brow. “Why’s that?” 

“’Cause I’m in it.” Liam stated it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“That sounds biased.”  

“It’s not biased; It’s just a fact.” 

That was the first thing that evenin’ that managed to get a smile out of me, I didn’t know why. His confident demeanour almost made me want to believe him. The rest of the evening went by pretty fast with Liam keeping me ‘entertained’ with stories about his band. They were unusual for sure, but somehow, they had managed to tug at the corners of my lips or made a chuckle escape my lips before I could stop myself. 

By the time Eliza made her way back to me, the time was well past when I’d be in bed, and Eliza was stumblin’ about. 

“That’s my cue.” 

Liam nodded. I placed Eliza’s arm over my shoulders, my arm going around her waist for support, and helped her out of the pub. I wanted to say that I had a lousy time, but it wasn’t all bad. 

Eliza mumbled some slurred intelligible statements in an effort to convey something, whatever it may be. For someone so tall, she was pretty lightweight. It was darker outside than a had been when we arrived, the temperature seemed to have dropped as well, the cold air hit me like a slap to the face. Almost made me regret leaving the flat without a jacket. It made sense as to why Eliza had gone without out. She’d be too out of it to complain about the cold.  

We passed a strange-looking building; one I saw frequently on my way to church. It hadn’t paid much attention to it—mainly because it blended in well with the other buildings. Tonight, however, it was lit up. Coloured lights everywhere, mainly red ones. Women, many in various stages of scantily clad clothing, stood outside. Some leaned against the lamp posts while others were near the entrance or likely inside. 

I paid them no mind, I had no business with them—plain and simple. As I gently dragged Eliza forward and down the street, something caught my eye—rather someone. Coming out of the building was a tall man, a woman’s arm interlocked with his. I recognized him immediately, and holy fuck. 

Pastor Thomas. 

Pastor Thomas grinned as the woman pulled him forward. Their lips were moving, but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. But from the smiles on both of their faces and the ease between them, as well as the way her face lit up with a grin when Pastor Thomas handed her a few note, it was obvious what was going on.   

There wasn’t a single bible in sight.  

Of course, I was aware that people had lives outside of church, but seeing him coming out of somewhere like that? There was no logical way to put the pieces together without something being wrong. I couldn’t make sense of it. 

It should have been obvious what was going on, but my brain supressed the truth. My head didn’t want to allow me to get to that point of acceptance. Not yet. I almost dropped Eliza from my shock. I adjusted my grip around her waist as I quickened my pace, hoping to pass unseen. As we did, I turned back, silently praying that it wasn’t who I thought it was—that fatigue was just playing a cruel joke on me. 

Pastor Thomas’ eyes met mine. I couldn’t possibly tell you what going on in his brain. His expression changed, not to that of guilt, or embarrassment, or anything of the sorts. This moment felt like a page out of Animal Farm. I didn’t recognize him. His gaze felt like a was sort of a silent threat, a challenge of sorts. One that told me that he was aware of what I had seen and dared me to say something about it. I moved Eliza and I along until we reached the flat. I fumbled with the key until the door unlocked. Kicking it open, I helped Eliza inside.  

I helped her out of her shoes, taking her to her room. I wasn’t exactly sure how much she’d to drink, but I was certain it wasn’t enough to let her sleep on her back. I adjusted her position, letting her sleep comfortably on her side. 

In my own room, I changed out of my clothes and into my pyjamas. As I laid on my bed, sleep just wouldn’t catch up to me. My mind was begging for a conclusion—anything. It replayed what I had seen, searching and scanning for answers and loopholes. What I saw wouldn’t suffice. Was that what God was trying to tell me?  

God, I sounded crazy, getting warnings from God. Now I knew how Joan of Arc felt. Was this what I was warned about? That my pastor taught one thing and did the opposite. I was undeniably disappointed.  

If he couldn’t hold himself to the standards he had set, what did that say about what I stood for? 

My thoughts didn’t keep me up for too long. I wasn’t sure when I had fallen asleep, but I knew I had when my eyes fluttered open and bright light spilled into my room from the small available cracks on my shutters.  I blinked rapidly, allowing my eyes to get adjusted.  

In the kitchen, Eliza leaned against a counter, one hand on her temple and the other on a glass of water.   

“Remind me to never drink again.” She groaned.  

“That’d be in vain.” I spoke with a dry tone. 

Her head lifted, a small yet weak smile on her face. “Thanks for last night. Who knows where I would’ve ended up if you weren’t there.” 

“It was nothing.” I shrugged. “It’s what a friend does.” 

Eliza turned so her lower back hit the counter, she took a sip of her water. “How’re you holdin’ up?” 

“What?” I blinked. 

“Did last night help you clear your mind?” 

“No,” I shook my head. “If anything, it made things worse.” 

“How?” Eliza’s brows knit in confusion; her smile was replaced with a frown. “Was it Liam? You were talkin’ to him all night—did he say summat?” 

“No.” 

“Then what?” 

There was a hint of hesitation before I spoke.“When I was walking you back home, I saw something.” 

“Really?” 

I nodded. 

“Okay, well tell me.” 

“I saw Pastor Thomas coming out of a building—” 

“Is that it? ” She blinked. 

“I think it was a brothel.” 

Silence. 

“A brothel?” Eliza repeated, in surprise. “Are you sure?” 

“I know what I saw—” I said, my voice firm. “—and I didn’t see a bible or anything.  

“wow...” Eliza's mouth was still ajar from the semi bomb I dropped. “You plannin’ on going back to that church?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I honestly wish I could help, really, I do.” She spoke, her fingers massaging her temple. “But this hangover is doin’ me head in.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” 

Eliza gave me a sympathetic smile, placing her hand on my shoulder and squeezing it. 

—  

Days of loitering about on the sofa occurred. Times where I should have been at church, where spent in the flat, doing nothing in particular. Luckily, Eliza kept me fed and kept away anyone from the congregation who was “too curious” about my absence from the church. The weigh of it felt like a heavy rock pressing down on me. 

It felt ridiculous, something so small, yet it held significance and I wasn’t sure why. Was my “belief” truly a belief if it had managed to be shaken by something like this? 

“You can’t keep sitting around like this.” Eliza said, one morning.  

I sat on the sofa, pulling my blanket higher over my shoulders. “Sure I can,” I argued. “I’m doing it right now.” 

“You can’t.” Eliza rolled her eyes, settling beside me.  

I didn’t say anything. 

“If you’ve got nowt to do...” Eliza started.  

I rose my brow, I knew where this was going. “No.” 

Eliza’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You didn’t even lemme ask.” 

“Didn’t have to.” 

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I was gonna ask you to take me to the pub. Again.” 

“No way, that was a one-time thing.” 

Eliza stuck out her lips in a small pout. 

“That’s not going work.” 

“It works with Alexander.” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Alexander.” I turned towards her, giving her a look. “And didn’t you say you were going to stop drinking.” 

“People change.” She shrugged. 

“Right.” I deadpanned. 

“C’mon, please.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” 

Eliza grinned triumphantly. 

— 

Eliza and I found ourself in the same place we had been. It was like déjà vu, minus the blouse. I chose to stick with clothes that came from my own closet, much to Eliza’s annoyance. The pub was tamer than it had been the other time. There were actual visible empty chairs. Eliza greeted her mates near the bar. I sat further away, not really having much interest in them.  

The scraping sound of a chair being pulled back caught my attention. My gaze turned to the side, there he was again, Liam. An ever-present and cocky smirk accompanied him. “Back again?” 

“Yeah, I am. You got a problem with that?” 

Liam shook his head, the smirk remained as he leaned back. “Not at all, didn’t see you for a while—got worried I might of scared ya off.” 

“Great, now you’ve seen me.” I deadpanned. 

“I would, but it’s not as fun, y’know what I mean?” 

I rolled my eyes. 

“What’s got you in mood, then?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but these last few days haven’t exactly been a cakewalk.” 

“Lemme guess,” Liam leaned back. “You havin’ trouble deciding which bible verse to read before bed?” 

My eyes narrowed slightly. That didn’t bother Liam one bit, if anything, it made his grin wider.  

“My problem isn’t exactly that simple.” 

“I’m sure it isn’t.” He chuckled.  

My expression remained very much the same. I adjusted my position, placing my elbow on the table and my chin on my palm. 

“Y’know what’ll be bound to make you feel better?” 

“What?” 

“A cold pint.” 

“I don’t drink.” I reiterated. 

“C’mon, love, why sit and stress when you can drink and forget?” 

I just stared at him. From the short time I’ve gotten to know what he was about, I learned that he wasn’t what you’d classify as Harvard-level intelligence, but he wasn’t stupid. I wanted to get out of this funk—I really did. He seemed to know what he was talking about, and Eliza always did look happy when she drank.  

“...Fine.” 

Liam’s brows shot up, as if he didn’t quite believe what I’d just said. “Alright.” he nodded, standing up. He went towards the bar, telling something to the bartender. The bartender handed him two glasses. Liam sat back down at my table, sliding one of the drinks towards me.  

“Try it.” Liam encouraged, taking a sip of his own drink. 

I did so. The taste was...unique. I’ve had alcohol before, if you count the wine they offered at church. The liquid burned my throat, it tasted bitter. After I swallowed it, a strong taste remained. I shook my head a bit.  

“Atta girl,” he grinned. “You’ll get used to the taste.” 

“I’m not sure I want to.” 

“It’ll grow on ya.”  Liam encouraged with a chuckle.  

I took a few more sips of the liquid and true to Liam’s words, the bitter after taste was almost numb to me. 

“Feelin’ better?” 

“A bit.” I chuckled. “My head feels fuzzy.” 

I leaned back, unbuttoning some of the top buttons of my shirt. 

“Look on the bright side, you look fit.” 

I turned my head to look at him, a ghost of a smile playing at my lips before I could stop it. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Is that what you tell all the girls you trick into buying a drink?” 

“Only if they’re fit.” Liam shrugged. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” 

I leaned in close; Miscalculated my move. My drink to spill right on my lap. I quickly sat the cup right side up. 

“Bloody hell.” Liam burst into a fit of laughter. 

I stood up quickly, causing some of the drink to spill on to the ground. I released an aggressive sigh.  

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” I rolled my eyes. “I swear, I’m never drinking again.” 

“C’mon,” Liam stood up, grabbing my arm. “I’ll help ya.” 

He didn’t give me a chance to give him an answer. Eliza saw us as we passed, her brows knit, I had barely had time to register it. 

Liam led to the restroom, pulling me inside after him and closing the door behind him. He picked up a stack of paper towels, dabbing them over my clothes—uselessly. his efforts did less to help than he had likely hoped. I placed my hand over his, stopping him.  

“It’s alright, I got it.” 

“Lemme help.” he insisted. 

“I don’t think what you’re doing qualifies as help.” I giggled.  

“Counts as summat.” 

My shirt was tainted by the beverage. I was certain I looked absolutely ridiculous. Liam just stared at me. I wasn’t sure what expression he was conveying to me. 

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if atmosphere between us was sacred.  

“Go on then, tell me what’s been doin’ ya ‘ead in.” His voice was soft. 

“Just stuff with my church.” I spoke vaguely, hoping he wouldn’t pry deeper. 

“What happened?”  

There was the hesitation again. I looked at his face for any hint of malice or insincerity, but I found none. With a sigh, I spoke. “My pastor preaches about abstinence before marriage, while he goes to brothels.” 

Liam’s eyebrows shot up, laughter escaping from his throat. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny.” I hit in the chest; Liam only laughed harder. 

“Nah, it’s fuckin’ hilarious.” He grinned, wiping the corners of his eyes. “A brothel—now I’d pay good money to see that.” 

My eyes narrowed.  

“I don’t see how that would bother ya.” 

“He’s a pastor, always goes on and on about how that kind of thing is bad then goes around and does? He’s a hypocrite.” I looked down at my hands. “I looked up to him, now I just feel stupid.” 

Liam’s laughing subsided, fading. His expression fell to something softer. “Hey, c’mon, don’t say that. The tosser had no right to order you lot like that, ‘specially if he was doin’ that shit. You’re not stupid, alright?” 

I looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. The warmth of his words spread all throughout my chest. “Thanks Liam.” 

Liam smiled, stepping closer. For a brief second, his eyes darted downwards to my lips, then back to my face. He just stared at me.  

Then, before I knew it, his hands cupped my cheeks, pulling me close and our lips met in a kiss. A startled sound escaped my lips. My hands found his shoulders, my conditioned state yelled at me to pull back—to push him away, but I couldn’t. Liam’s hands slid down, finding my waist. His tongue had made its way inside my mouth, wrestling with mine. 

He pulled away briefly, attempting to grasp as much oxygen as he could. I did the same, before I was pulled back, lips locking on to his.  

The buttons of my shirt were slowly coming undone until it was completely off. Left in my bra, the cold had goosebumps slowly making their way up my arms. It was strange standing like this in front of him, but I had a feeling, an almost animalistic desire—primal. It didn’t Liam long to get his shirt off and on the floor. At the moment, there wasn’t a care in the world about how dirty they were. Liam’s hands grasp my waist firmly, his fingers digging at them. It wasn't painful, there was just a feeling of pressure. 

His lips moved with mine, there was a strange sensation I felt as we moved together. I wasn’t entirely sure how to describe it, but it was...good. 

Liam slowly moved me back against the wall adjacent to the one that had the sink and mirror attached to it. The cold wall hit my back softly, lips still moulding against each other. Liam’s hand held my lower back, while the other grazed my thigh, slowly rising up and under my skirt. It moved gently, there was no haste nor rush in his touch, as if he wanted to savour every second. 

“You can... touch me, you know.” I told him. The brave tone in which I spoke with surprised myself. Perhaps the drink had an elixir-like effect on my brain chemistry. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” I confirmed, leaning back towards him for a hungry kiss. 

For once, I didn’t feel confined—trapped, that was how I felt and it felt fucking amazing.  

Liam’s hand flickered upwards, a soft whimper escaped my lips. I didn’t why it did, but it did. 

“Do that again.” I whispered. 

Liam complied; another sound was expelled from lips. The lace of my underwear was toyed with by Liam, brushing against my entrance with a frustrating slowness. 

Something between a gasp and a moan was the reaction that occurred when he slipped a finger inside. It stretched me in a way that made me shudder. The sensation felt odd—not in a bad way, just the unfamiliarity of it.  

I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. Maybe it was the weird buzz in my head from the drink, or maybe my thoughts had been cleared and I had subconsciously realised that maybe those standards that I held myself to wasn’t how I felt anymore. 

Whatever the case might have been, it felt liberating. A feeling of liberty. 

Liam’s finger managed to get a hold of a spot that had my head tilting back and my vision blurred. Then he inserted another one.  

“Ahh—” I gasped, my hand holding onto his shoulders tightly as his fingers thrusted inwardly. His angles changed ever so slightly, eliciting a feeling of anticipation. 

I wanted—no, I needed more. 

My hips bucked almost instinctively towards his hand. Incoherent babbles were all that were coming out of my mouth. Liam kissed the corners of my mouth, his wet kisses slowly trailing downwards. My breath hitched when Liam’s lips met a particular spot slightly above my collarbone. 

I could feel a smirk forming against my skin. Cheeky bastard. 

One particular thrust of Liam’s fingers made me jump, sending an intense feeling throughout my entire body. It felt as if I was having a heart attack, but without danger. My heart was racing, palpitations sending heavy vibrations throughout my body. The rate of my breathing increased rapidly, rising and the decreasing as the foreign, yet satisfying, feeling went away. 

Liam’s fingers pulled away gently as the intensity slowly dissipated.  

“You good, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” I panted. 

“Good.” Liam’s hand remained on my back. 

Liam’s face came close to mine once more until our lips met once more. His hands rose to my upper back, fumbling with the hooks of my bra until it came loose. The light under garment fell with ease. My hands instinctually fell over my chest. I’d never been exposed to this degree if front of anyone, it felt new. 

“None of that.” He gently pulled my arm down. “You look beautiful.” 

My breath hitched. His lips grazed my collarbones, going lower and lower. My hands raked him dark brown hair.  

Liam reached down to undue his belt, letting his jeans fall to the floor. His length looked firm, pressing against his boxers. 

His eyes flickered onto mine, as if he were silently asking me for permission. I nodded. Liam pulled me close. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I hadn’t anticipated the stretch I felt when Liam slowly pushed inside me.  

I took a sharp breath, my hands squeezing his shoulders. It hurt—it did. Liam did his best to accommodate that, moving slowly.  

Liam groaned softly, muttering obscenities. “Fuck...”  The pace wasn’t rushed—it was slow, but steady, slowly allowing the discomfort to be transformed to pleasure.  

I couldn’t believe it, genuinely. I was having sex, and in a pub bathroom no less. It wasn’t at all how Pastor Thomas had painted it out to be. This didn’t feel dirty or wrong, not at all. I felt connected, our pleasured sounds over taking the bathroom. 

It was simply too much. I caught sight of Liam’s damp forehead, his hair clinging onto his forehead. His pink-tinted swollen and moist lips kissed mine with ferocity. It was hard to keep up when his hips kept colliding with mine faster and faster... 

I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t think at all. I wasn’t even kissing Liam at this point, instead I gasped and moaned into his mouth.  

Liam’s pace quickened. “Fuckin’ hell... Yeah—fuck, so good...” Liam moaned. With a couple more sloppy thrusts, Liam let out throaty groan, his head falling on my shoulder. An intense feeling that I could only describe as pure euphoria took over. It felt like death. A heavenly way to die. My head tipped back once more; I was releasing sounds I didn’t even know I could make. I felt a warm, liquid-like substance filling me up. As soon as Liam soften inside me, he pulled out.  

As soon as he did, the liquid dripped down my thighs.  

I attempted to catch my breath, and he seemed to be doing the same. “You, okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah. You?” 

Liam nodded.  

There was a small moment of silence. It wasn’t awkward or anything, quite the opposite. 

“Reckon we’re proper filthy, eh?” Liam teased. 

I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we are.” 

Liam helped with me get sorted with my clothes before getting to his. His hands shrugged mine off as he buttoned up my shirt. When he finished, his hands found my cheeks again. He didn’t kiss me this time, just looked at me, as if I was someone important. Someone worth looking at like that. 

My mind was racing, not with stress, just confusion. I wasn’t what this meant. Did this mean that my faith was tarnished?  

I enjoyed it, I did.  

What did it mean? 

[als-notebook]

silence

Misha seeks out a conversation with a friend. (I attempted to write this very ambiguous. You can view this as platonic or romantic.)

Sundays always felt slow, and the rain made the day feel even more empty. Somehow, Misha Bachnyskyi found himself walking over to his friend’s house in the rain with a hood over his head. When he got there, he noted that his friend’s mother’s car was not parked in the driveway, meaning she was probably out working, and his friend was home alone.

Misha almost hesitated to reach out and knock on the door. Why had he come here, really? He hadn’t even asked him if he could visit. But surely he wouldn’t mind, right? Something about today felt gloomy, and it wasn’t just the gray skies. Misha felt down, and he wasn’t sure why, but what he did know is that he needed a friend today.

Finally, Misha tapped his knuckles against the wood. Knock, knock, knock. He took a step back, waiting for just one moment before Noel Gruber opened the door a crack, peering out. When he spotted Misha, he opened the door completely, smoothing out his clothes and smiling a little. He hadn’t expected the visit. “Misha,” Noel said to him, “a pleasant surprise, really. What are you doing here? You walked over here in the rain?”

The walk from Misha’s house to Noel’s house wasn’t very long, perhaps a few minutes, but maybe it was still a bit concerning that Misha had made the walk in the rain without even notifying Noel he was visiting. “H..Hi,” Misha stammered out after a few seconds—he didn’t really think about what to say. “Ahh… Well… I just wanted to hang out, I guess.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but it wasn’t completely false either. 

Noel frowned. “Are you… sure? You look kind of upset.” Misha sighed. Great. He knew something was up.

“Aghh… I don’t know. I just… I started feeling kind of sad. I just let my feet take me here. I guess I just need a friend.” Misha wasn’t usually open and honest like that. Something about Noel felt… safe. Like he could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge him.

Noel felt honored to be that safe space for Misha. He could have gone to Ricky, or texted Talya, or kept it all to himself; but he went to Noel. His feet took him to Noel. Still, Noel concealed how glad he was. He stepped out of the way to let Misha in. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Misha stepped in behind Noel, threw his shoes off, and took a vague glance around. He sort of slouched like he was trying to get his wet hoodie as far away from him as he possibly could, uncomfortable. He spotted a coat rack right by the door, and lifted his arms up and behind himself, pulling the soaked jacket over his head. He pinched the hood with his index finger and thumb and hung it up as he finally replied, “I just want to… talk.”

Noel nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can talk.” He smiled; perhaps it was a bit crooked. He wanted to do this right, he really wanted to show Misha he’d support him. Don’t overthink it, Noel. “Do you wanna go in my room?”

“Sure,” Misha said with a shrug. He didn’t mind where they went, really. As long as he could  talk. “Lead the way.”

As per usual, Noel led Misha to his room. It was quite dim in there; the big light was off, and the only things lighting it up was the dim light from the window and a pretty, vintage-looking lamp next to Noel’s bed. Misha recognized it—Noel had thrifted it a while ago. He had been so thrilled about it, Misha recalled. Something about it being super cheap.

“Here,” Noel said as he began to move a few pieces of clothing off his bed, “Come sit.” He sat on the edge of the bed, beckoning for Misha to sit next to him. Misha smirked playfully. He’d been here several times before. He might as well live here.

“Nah,” Misha said before flopping onto the bed face first. “I think I’ll lay right here.” Noel was taken aback, and then laughed. “Sure,” he replied. Noel hesitated; would it be weird if he laid next to him? Surely not. They were friends, right? Being friends with guys as a gay man was hard. Most of the time, they’d think he liked them if he did something that could just barely be interpreted as romantic. But Misha was different. He didn’t mind the friendly affection; in fact, he actively seeked it out. Unlike with friends Noel had in the past, they would hug and sit close to one another very frequently. It was nice. 

So, finally, Noel laid next to Misha, their shoulders touching on the small bed. Noel turned his head to face Misha, and Misha lifted his head to face Noel. They smiled at each other.

Misha flipped over onto his back, now, and leaned closer to Noel. They shared a few moments of warm silence. Noel wanted to give Misha the chance to speak first.

Finally, Misha took a breath.

“I like the rain. It reminds me of home. When my mother and I would snuggle up under a blanket, when she would tell me stories and read me poems.”

A beat.

“Do you like the rain, Noel?”

Noel thought about it for a moment. “Sometimes.”

He paused, and then elaborated, “It can be poetic, really… It makes a good metaphor. Sometimes it’s harsh; thrashing around trees, beating down on your skin… sometimes it leaves behind a bright rainbow.”

“Sometimes it’s calming, listening to raindrops hit the window,” Misha continued, and left it at that. The silence between them revealed the sound of rain falling onto Noel’s window.

Misha glanced at Noel again. The other boy stared at the ceiling, appearing comfortable. Misha sort of laughed–although it was more like a sharp exhale out of his nose. “Sick of this sappy shit,” he said jokingly, before flopping directly on top of Noel, catching the poet off guard.

Noel chuckled, “What are you doing? Don’t you find this a little weird?” he said, before quickly clarifying, “I mean, not that I mind.”

“Nah. It’s just like… horizontal hug, no?” This sent Noel into a laughing fit that quickly ended after he snorted and got embarrassed.

Misha snickered. But soon, their laughter dissipated, the silence filled again by the sound of the rain. Misha rested his head on its side on top of Noel’s chest. His heartbeat was somewhat… relaxing.

Of course, their conversation inevitably turned sappy again, for what are two writers if not full of love?

“I miss my mom,” Misha said softly, somberly. Noel placed a hand on his head as a comforting gesture, still silent. “I miss my country.”

He thought for a moment before he spoke again. “It’s kind of stupid,” he began, “but I keep thinking about that question I got a while ago.” Noel hummed as a response. “The one that said something like, if you could go back to Ukraine right now, but couldn’t talk to the choir ever again, would you do it?”

Misha sighed. He was about to get unbearably sweet, but he couldn’t help it. “As much as I miss my home… I meant what I said. Really. I want to go back as soon as I can, but if it means never talking to the only people who were ever nice to me here again? I don’t think I could do that, you know? Is that such a crime?”

Noel looked down at the boy on his chest. He adored the unusual sweetness from his friend. Knowing Misha really did care about the choir, about him—it felt nice. Absent-mindedly, he twirled his curls with his fingers. Misha didn’t seem to mind. “I think that’s really lovely, Misha.”

And once again, they were left in silence, a common theme of this afternoon. But it wasn’t anything uncomfortable—in fact, it was quite the opposite. It was nice they could lay unspeaking and still enjoy one another’s presence and company. That was a kind of closeness that was hard to come by, especially in Uranium.

But all silences must come to an end, right?

“Noel?” Misha said, quietly and softly, as if beckoning for his attention. Noel continued playing with his hair, looking down at him. “Hmm?” 

For a few moments, Misha was silent, the only sound from him was his steady breaths. Finally, he spoke.

“I love you.”

Noel was taken aback by the statement. A boy lying on his chest against his heartbeat—it was undoubtedly intimate. Was this a platonic sentiment? Was it something deeper, more romantic? Noel wasn’t sure.

But either way, no matter what Misha truly did mean, Noel knew his answer.

“I love you, too.”

[darkveracity]

How do you think each Tsukihime girl would feel about getting pregnant?

Ok so this is what we're doing now huh

Arcueid: Can Arc even get pregnant? I'm going to go with no but even if she can chances are she knows only the vaguest of details about it. Any Arcueid pregnancy adventure is going to involve an awful lot of explaining basic facts of human biology to her while she glosses over major details in favor of fixating on small points most other people don't consider important

Ciel: Ciel is going to cry from joy not so much because she got pregnant but because the fact that she can get pregnant now means she's truly free of her curse. Her body can once again change and grow and even bear children. The next time she sees Noel she goes on and on about how happy she is and how wonderful her life has become and inadvertently pisses Noel off so badly she ruins her entire week

Noel: Noel's first thought on learning she's become pregnant is to be happy at finally achieving a little slice of a normal life, her second thought is to call Ciel and try to rub it in her face as hard as possible, and somewhere distantly in third is the fact that she is in no way ready to become a mother and oh god this is going to fuck everything up

Satsuki: I think she's just normal about it actually. Satsuki's narrative position as a love interest is to be the normal classmate, the girl next door, an ordinary person drawn into this supernatural world by happenstance rather than someone steeped in it like the rest of the cast and this means her reaction to getting pregnant is just normal too

Akiha: Getting pregnant makes all of her self-loathing and belief that she's a monster crash down on her at once. Given the blood of demons that she carries, given what her family has done, is it really right to bring any more of them into the world? Should not the Tohnos simply end with her? Also more than anyone else she experiences pregnancy as total body horror - her frame simply isn't built for it and she finds it both painful and disgusting. Combined with the extreme hormonal fluctuations of pregnancy and their emotional effects I think she tries to kill herself at least once

Hisui: She's really quiet but from the way that she smiles you can tell that she's simply too happy to express herself well. Second most normal about it after Satsuki

Kohaku: She sits staring into space and dissociating out of her mind for six hours straight and then brews herself an abortion drug and quietly takes care of it without telling anyone

[biblical-chronicles]

Puddles

________________________________________

where a small Anaïs brings the reader and Noel together.

________________________________________

The winter air bit at your cheeks as you pulled into Noel’s driveway, a little bag in hand containing the pedal he’d left behind at the studio. You could’ve just brought it to the next session, but you figured it’d be easier for him to have it sooner rather than later. Plus, you were in the area, and you also may have had a little bit of a crush on the man.

You knocked on the door, only having to wait a moment before it swung open. Noel stood there, looking about one step away from a mental breakdown, only muttering a quiet “God help me.” under his breath.

You blinked, caught a bit off guard. “Alright, what’s got you so dramatic this time?”

Before he could answer, the shrill voice of a small child echoed from somewhere inside. “NO, DAD, NO!”

You peeked around him and spotted the source of his woes—Anaïs, sitting cross-legged on the floor, clutching a wool hat in her tiny fists like it had personally insulted her.

“She’s supposed to wear the bloody thing ‘cause it’s freezin’ out, but no,” Noel said, throwing his hands up. “Apparently, hats are public enemy number one today. Yesterday they were fine, but not today.”

You couldn’t help but just laugh at his misery at which he just shot you a look of pure betrayal.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” you teased. “This is brilliant. Rock legend Noel Gallagher brought to his knees by a three-year-old and a hat.”

Anaïs, upon hearing your voice, stopped her tantrum and turned. Her eyes lit up when she saw you standing there. “Y/N!” she squealed, abandoning the hat entirely and making a beeline for you, throwing her arms around your leg in a tight embrace.

“Well, hello to you too,” you said, squatting down to her level. “What’s all this fuss about, then? Your dad says you don’t like your hat very much.”

Anaïs pouted, crossing her arms. “It’s itchy, and it’s ugly, and I hate it.”

“Ah, I see.” You tapped your chin, pretending to consider her argument. “But you know, hats are pretty cool. Look, I’m wearing one too.” You tugged at the brim of your own beanie, grinning at her.

Anaïs tilted her head, clearly weighing her options. After a moment, she picked up the discarded hat and held it out to you. “You wear it.” she commanded.

“Alright, deal.” You took the hat, slipping it on and giving her a little twirl for effect. “How do I look?”

Anaïs giggled, clapping her hands. “Good! Really good!”

“Well, there you go,” you said, taking the hat off and handing it back to her. “If it looks good on me, it’ll look even better on you, yeah?”

Anaïs nodded solemnly, as if you’d just delivered the most profound wisdom of her short life. She plopped the hat onto her head, adjusting it until it sat snugly. “I’m ready!”

Noel, who had been watching the whole interaction, just let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Of course. Two minutes with you, and she’s a bloody angel. I try all mornin’, and I’m gettin’ screamed at like I’ve just committed a war crime.”

You just started laughing at him again as Anaïs looked up at you proudly. “See, Dad?” she said, tugging at his sleeve. “We’re wearing the same hat now. How cool is that?”

“Yeah,” Noel deadpanned, “so cool.”

Finally, you remembered the bag in your hand. “Oh, right, I came to drop this off,” you said, holding it out to Noel. “Your pedal. You left it at the studio.”

“You’re a saint,” he said, taking the bag and setting it on a nearby shelf. “Dunno what I’d do without ya.”

Before you could reply, Anaïs grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the door. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Noel followed, grabbing his coat. “Oi, slow down, we’re not in a race.”

But Anaïs suddenly stopped in her tracks, turning to look up at you with big, pleading eyes. “Are you coming with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Noel said quickly. “She’s got work and—”

Anaïs cut him off with a firm, “No. I’m not going if she’s not going.”

You glanced between the two of them, biting back a laugh. “Well,” you said, squatting down again to Anaïs’s level, “I suppose I can join you. It’d be my pleasure.”

Anaïs beamed, reaching for your hand again, and Noel just stood there, watching the two of you with a look you couldn’t quite place. Maybe a bit of frustration. Maybe a bit of awe. Maybe a bit of love.

“Alright,” Noel said finally, voice softer than usual. “Let’s go, then.”

The three of you walked down the quiet street, the crisp air turning your breath into little clouds. Anaïs skipped along beside you, her tiny hand clutching yours tightly, while Noel trailed slightly behind, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

“You should come over more,” Anaïs chirped, looking up at you with a toothy grin. “It’s way more fun when you’re here.”

“Yeah?” you asked, glancing down at her. “What makes it so fun, then?”

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment before answering, “You sing better than Dad. And you know all the good songs.”

Noel snorted from behind you. “Oi, I heard that!”

Anaïs giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand. “It’s true!” she whispered loudly, as if he wouldn’t hear.

You couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing her hand. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The walk continued in comfortable chatter, Anaïs alternating between skipping and walking, her energy seemingly endless. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze fixed on something up ahead.

“What is it?” you asked, following her line of sight.

“It’s a puddle,” she said, pointing to a shallow pool of water on the pavement. She leaned forward, examining it as if it were some rare artifact.

“You like jumping in puddles?” you asked.

Anaïs shook her head. “I never really did that yet.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Never? Oh, we’ve got to change that. Look at your wellies—they’re perfect for it!”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, taking her hand again and guiding her toward the puddle. “Come on, let’s try it out.”

With a bit of encouragement, Anaïs took her first tentative hop into the puddle, sending a small splash of water out around her boots. She froze for a moment, then burst into giggles.

“Look at you, already an expert” you said, joining her in the puddle. “Now, like this—big jump.” You leapt, sending water spraying around your shoes. Anaïs followed suit, her laughter echoing down the street.

Noel stood off to the side, watching you with admiration, a smile automatically forming on his face.

“Come on, Noel,” you called over to him, grinning. “Have some fun for once!”

“Yeah, Dad!” Anaïs chimed in, hopping up and down. “It’s fun! You have to try!”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking torn. “I dunno… I’m not exactly dressed for this sort of thing.”

“Oh, stop making excuses,” you teased. “You can handle a bit of water, can’t you?”

Anaïs quickly walked over to him, tugging at his hand. “Please, Dad? Just one jump?”

He sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. One jump. Don’t expect me to make a habit of this.”

You and Anaïs cheered as Noel stepped cautiously into the puddle, his boots making a soft splash. He glanced at you both, shaking his head, before taking a half-hearted hop.

“Oh, come on,” you said, laughing. “That was pathetic. Give us a proper jump, Gallagher.”

Anaïs giggled, bouncing on her toes. “Yeah, Dad! Like this!” She leapt into the air, landing with a loud splash that sent water flying.

Not to disappoint her, Noel gave a real jump this time, his landing sending another wave of water outward. You all laughed, the moment surprisingly carefree.

Then Anaïs, perhaps getting a little too enthusiastic, landed with a forceful splash that sent some muddy water flying right onto your face.

You froze, blinking as the cold mud dripped down your cheek. Noel burst out laughing, doubling over as Anaïs clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oops!” she squeaked, eyes wide.

You wiped at your face, trying to suppress your own laughter. “Well,” you said, grinning, “I guess that’s what I get for encouraging you.”

“Sorry,” Anaïs said, but she was giggling too hard to sound sincere.

Noel shook his head, still laughing softly, and reached into his pocket. “Lucky for you, I grabbed some tissues before we left,” he said, pulling a slightly crumpled packet out. He stepped closer, unfolding one and holding it up to your cheek. “Stay still, yeah?”

You blinked as he dabbed at the mud on your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. The closeness caught you off guard and your cheeks warmed as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“There we go,” he muttered, stepping back slightly but still far closer than you’d expected.

Before you could find something to say, Anaïs chimed in excitedly.“kiss! kiss! kiss!”

Both of you froze, eyes wide. “What?” you and Noel said in unison, glancing at each other before turning back to her.

“Please!” Anaïs pleaded, her little hands clasped together. “Just like in the movies!”

Noel’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you, his lips twitching as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or protest. “She’s got a wild imagination, hasn’t she?” he said, his voice a little tight.

You bit your lip, your own face heating up. “Well,” you said, trying to play it cool, “if the princess requests…”

Noel’s eyes locked with yours, then, as if on some unspoken agreement, he leaned in. The kiss was soft and brief, a tentative brush of lips, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Anaïs erupted into cheers, clapping her hands as she spun in the puddle. “Yay!”

You and Noel broke apart, both of you laughing nervously as your cheeks burned. “Happy now, then?” he asked her, ruffling her hair.

“Very happy!” she declared, beaming up at you both.

Noel turned back to you, his expression shifting to something softer. “As much as I’m not gonna make a habit out of puddle jumpin’,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’d gladly make a habit out of this.”

Your breath caught, his words hanging in the air between you. You smiled, feeling a bit dazed but undeniably happy. “I’d gladly let you make a habit out of it,” you replied, leaning in to peck him on the lips again.

Anaïs clapped her hands once more, clearly delighted. “Does that mean she’s gonna come over more often?”

Noel chuckled, glancing at her and then back at you. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “Definitely.”

Anaïs cheered, running ahead as you and Noel fell into step beside each other, both of you smiling like fools.

________________________________________

Right, as promised, here’s the Noel version. Didn’t wanna just nick the Liam fic, so I came up with this for today. Proper cute to write, hope you lot are into it.

And no worries, I didn't forget about all the other requests—day off tomorrow, so I’ll scribble me arse off for ya, swear down xx

[mellowwillowy]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈

Yan! Crown Prince x (GN?) Childhood Friend! Reader

Reader was hinted to be intersex and appeared as a lady-in-waiting and a nobleman, reader was described as an enigmatic beauty (so not directly feminine nor masculine). WC: 1.5k

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰? 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙙? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"𝑨 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚, 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐.”

-- Part I, II, III

The crown prince had always had his eyes set on you. Why? He’s not sure. Perhaps it was because his brother fancied you, their mother lady-in-waiting. Nonetheless, you were the enigmatic beauty who captured everyone’s attention. Beauty depends on the eye of the beholder, yet you were always basked in it no matter whose eyes were looking at you.

“I wish you the best for your journey, Noel.”

You hugged the man you placed the handkerchief on, and he returned the gesture by placing his hand on your head, giving you a peck on your cheek before hugging you tightly for one last time. The crown prince only watched everything from the side, waiting for all the knights to finish this rite.

"I will return home safely again no doubt."

Upon seeing everyone has steadied themselves, Erickson raised his arm, ordering all the knights to stand in line. The knight next to Erickson started his usual speech before the crown prince sent the knights off.

All the noble women hurdled to your side, eyes glistering in adoration as they watched you and Noel being the love birds. Upon the departure of the knights, you herded the ladies to the main hall, chit-chatting with them.

“Young master really adores you, lady Rigelhoff!”

“Oh, it does not look like those typical early phases! He really fancies you!”

“That bastard, he revealed himself the moment we got married, although we are certain young master isn’t one that is bland!”

Everyone laughed at the statement until Erickson approached your table, “Greetings, ladies, what are you beauties talking about?” Erickson had always been known as the playboy so it was no surprise to see him acting like this.

“Oh my, we were talking about your little brother!”

“Oh how sweet Master Noel is, God, I think falling for someone’s fiancé is no longer a sin!”

“Hey, don’t say that in front of the fiancée!” The other lady smacked playfully.

“Well ladies, that’s one of an interesting topic but may I please take lady Rigelhoff with me? I have something to converse with her.”

The other ladies gestured for him to take you with him, an ‘of course’ muttered repeatedly. Just as you were about to stand up from your seat, Erickson offered you his arm for you to hold. You were not exactly in the position to refuse so you held his arm.

“…Noel’s way more muscular than yours, Erick.” You commented as you felt his arm.

“Is that so? As expected from a rabid dog that is so invested in the battlefields.” Erickson cackled at your statement.

“Hush!” You elbowed him playfully while you two walked toward his chamber.

The guards stationed in front of his chamber opened the doors for you two to enter. You were used to seeing his room already. The room did not change much from the time you three were still children until now.

“So? What is it little pie? Care to spill the tea for me?”

Erickson pulled the chair for you to sit before he made his way to the other chair, “Well, I’m sure you are aware of how I’m the next emperor no? Soooo, what do you think?” He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your response.

“Hm? Well I think you should really change that attitude of yours first”

Erickson rang the bell to call the servants, asking them to prepare the two of you some tea and desserts.

“For example?”

“Hmm, stop being a heartbreaker and finally be a reliable figure for your nation?”

“Will I finally be worthy if I do that?”

“Worthy? Worthy of what?”

“Nothing! Although… I suppose that uncle of mine really should drop down soon since I have reached adulthood.”

Both Erickson and Noel’s uncle reigned the nation when their father passed away, although there was a contract where that man had to descend from the throne the moment Erickson reached adulthood, everyone including the former empress (Empress Dowager) herself started to doubt the contract would be fulfilled. You winced internally, if the current emperor won’t descend on his own, you’d have to finish your mission that was assigned by the former empress.

‘Dispose him the moment you got the chance to.’

This was a mission tasked to you that even the siblings were not aware of. In fact, only you, the former empress, and some of the servants were aware of this. You truly hoped that man would have a single bit of conscience left in him before you had to see how he led a revolution against Erickson.

Erickson stared into your dazed-off face, relishing in how your brows twitched occasionally.  It seemed to him that you were worried about how that bastard had a change of heart and motive. He was none the ignorant one as well, he was aware of everything. How you and his mother schemed to dispose of his uncle was clear the moment he found the notes you hid in your shelf when he sneaked into your room. What was once originally just a usual secret visit to your room turned into a discovery that touched his heart. It seemed like both you and his mother still cared for him and not Noel only.

“So? Who are you going to court?”

“…what?” Erickson snapped out of his thoughts, shocked by your question.

“The next empress, Erick. Our nation needs an Empress figure as well.”

The servants brought trays of tea cups and desserts, all adorned to look tempting and lovely. One of them poured the two of you the warm tea while Erickson shifted his focus back to the conversation. Right. It had to be a woman of reputation and intelligence.

“How about Lady Rimwell? She’s a strong-natured woman that would keep you in manner, kukuku” You cackled as you smacked the fan into your palm. Erickson started thinking to himself, why find another when he could just court you? You bear the Rigelhoff’s crest on your chest despite it only being a mere decoration to cover your flow. That alone had already fulfilled the reputation criteria.

“I truly pity the other suitors as I’ll fully support Lady Rimwell, they’d probably have a hard time competing with her, don’t you think so too?”

Erickson didn’t think so. The winner all along would not be Lady Rimwell but you. You are naturally intelligent, having to learn and read the same books both Noel and Erickson read. Not to mention that he’s aware of how many times you’ve also reserved a seat in the nation’s politics as a nobleman. It was not hard for you to deceive everyone into thinking that you came from another family with a decorative crest on your chest, especially when you have their mother’s full support.

You may be her lady-in-waiting, but you were also the shadow that lurked over the nation, a man capable of dirtying their hand to keep everything in place. That alone would be enough to convince his mother to allow him to court you. As for the other advisors' opposition, they held almost no power to go against his decision so they would be of no problem to him.

“yes… I truly pity the other suitor.” He really did, to have their engagement broken and be courted by the next Emperor, o how pitiful this thing called love. The tea had gone cold, it seemed like he took longer than he expected. He took a new cup and poured the warm tea into it, sliding the plated cup toward you.

“It wouldn’t taste good to dip those cookies into a cold tea, no?”

Erickson knew you better than Noel, so why was he never spared even the slightest chance to creep into your heart? Why was it always Noel who got everything? His parents’ attention, your attention, everyone’s attention. Perhaps that’s why he’s reputable for being a heartbreaker. Perhaps that’s why he wanted everything Noel had, his honor and you. But Noel was his family, his brother, so he could not do much but only give him a bit of poking.

“I hope Noel won’t be mad for having me attending his love.” Erickson cackled as he crunched the sugar cube he held into dust, falling right into yours, “There, sweet just like what you like!”

--

Days turned into weeks and there was still no news regarding the knights. Your hand balled into a fist as your face contorted in worry. Noel was not weak, he had always been strong, the strongest. He’d return, you were certain of it. You’d swear on the witch of certainty that he’d return. For now, you could only wear your hat and take your cane, for duty had called you to eliminate another opposing nobleman.

“Prepare the carriage for me, I’ll be going to that man’s manor”

“Understood, Mister Marquez,” The servant that the former empress had entrusted to be your helper bowed. To you, names held almost regard to you as it was nothing but a means to assist you in executing plans and giving you the upbringing you needed in society.

“They really shouldn’t have opposed us”

---

"We can't send any messenger out because of the blizzard, sir!"

"What? But we can't also hold our position here! we are clearly outnumbered by the monsters!"

"Arrange a pathway for us to pull back, and protect Master Noel no matter what!"

--- 𝙻𝚘𝚐 𝟷 𝙴𝚗𝚍

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

An introduction for the repeating characters

𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗺: Erickson, Noel, Former Empress (Empress Dowager Blankenheim), Current Emperor (Uncle) Reader had 2 houses' names, 𝗥𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗹𝗵𝗼𝗳𝗳 (as lady-in-waiting) and 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘇 (as nobleman).

[oacest]

noel having a normal one, nov 2006

Liam doesn't like me. He confuses love with hate. 'I love you.' No, Liam, I think you'll find you fucking hate me. The reason he doesn't like me is that I'm indifferent to him. I can come off tour, put the bags down and shut the door. Liam can't do that. He wants to carry on. Plus, he insults me and I don't like being around people who insult me. But, y'know, he is my brother. And although I don't like him, I do love him to bits.

The Guardian, 10th November

We're in a period of unrest at the minute because he's a fucking idiot who insults my intelligence. I have to suppress all my working class urges not to smash a chair over his head. The polite thing to say is that we do a dance around each other. He doesn't get in my way and I don't get in his. I know for a fact Liam doesn't like me. It's because I'm much more talented than him. I love him because he's my brother but I don't LIKE him. He says he loves me but I don't see much coming from him.

Scottish Sunday Mail, 12th November

He’s a f…ing little idiot is what he is. I haven’t seen him for four months but I know wherever he is he is being a f…ing idiot. Genuinely, he doesn’t like me, I tell you that for a fact. And I am indifferent to his idiocy.

The West, 16th November

The problem with our relationship is that he doesn't like me. I know that. I can accept that. I actually don't mind that. And I'm indifferent to him. I'm not bothered what he does, I'm not bothered what he says, I'm not bothered about his music, his haircut or where he lives. I don't actively go out of my way to antagonise him. He does actively go out of his way to antagonise me. But I just keep out of his way. I can't be dealing with him, he's just a pain in the a**. He's got a split personality. He's either got a Messiah complex. When he looks in the mirror he sees the Messiah. Or he's got a Caesar complex. When he looks in the mirror he sees enemies everywhere. It's very difficult to deal with a person who thinks he's the centre of the universe one minute and the next minute everybody's out to get him.

The Sun, 21st November

[leaawrites]

Ask me again

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: every new years he asks her for a kiss and every new years she denies him, until she doesn't.

Warnings: language, drinking, drunk noel,

Wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

Liam has always been a flirt. Growing up with the Gallagher brothers she became familiar with Noel’s quiet, sarcastic manner and Liam’s loud, flirty one. Going to school with him, she got the full experience of the ‘Liam Gallagher charm’ experience, watching from the sidelines as he leaned against a locker next to some bird, smiling at her like she wouldn’t be forgotten in a week.

It always made her chest ache, not just because all he did was use them, but also because she never got to experience first hand. She never got to stand so close to his hovering body, almost standing beneath him, feeling his breath on her face, receiving a cheeky grin at whatever she said and not just when he found it funny. She never wanted to be only used by him, but sometimes she thought she’d prefer that over simply being his ‘best friend’.

It wasn’t like he never tried it, on New Years, he’d normally catch her eye at the bar shortly before midnight, yelling her way with a grin his way. “Am I gonna get a kiss tonight?”

He tried it every year and every year she laughed it off, shaking her head at his antics and flipping off before going back to nursing her drink or talking to whoever was sitting next to her. It wasn’t like he was serious about it, she couldn’t imagine that.

This year, it was the same, a tradition almost.

The door to the little bar they were celebrating in opened, making Liam’s eyes snap up to the person entering. ‘Please, let it be her,’ he thought as he straightened his back to see the person lost in the crowd. He decided, if she declined him once more he would leave it be forever. No more trying anymore, no more flirting. If she wanted nothing from him, he’d get over her. Fly over her head in the plane he already booked tickets for, just in case.

Celebrating new years in her home country made it more complicated to simply go home after this. Staying at her parents house with her, in the same room, made it difficult to ignore her if this went horribly wrong. So, he made sure to have an escape plan.

It was bulletproof, he thought.

“Hey, love,” he greeted her, pushing past people to get to her side. Grinning at her like he’d just won the lottery. Not yet, he thought.

“Hey, Liam,” she greeted him back, smiling at him softly. In the same way that made his knees weak and his heart beat faster. He couldn’t believe she smiled at him like that and still couldn’t feel anything for him beyond friendship. She had to feel something, right?

She knew what was coming, it were the same seven words as every year.

“Am I gonna get a kiss tonight?”

And he’d receive the same answer every year.

A slight chuckle, a nervous glance down and a soft, “Keep on dreaming, Gallagher.”

She thought her answer was what made him laugh after his question, the realisation that she played the same game as him. Not the embarrassment he felt after every time he asked or the realisation that she didn’t want him the same way he wanted her. It was his final sign tonight, the last time he would’ve tried.

With a slight nod and a forced smile he said, “Cheers.” Lifting up his hand in surrender before disappearing into the crowd again. Leaving her speechless.

What has just happened?

There was no laugh coming from deep down his chest like normally, no invitation to do a shot together either. Just that and a kind of disappointment in his eyes that she’d never seen before. It made her heart ache, her chest tightened in fear. What had she done?

The ring of the bell over the door brought her back to her senses, a large hand touching her shoulder, bringing her body into a side hug made her blink back to reality. Noel was already pissed drunk, laughing at nothing in particular but his pure existence as he greeted her. Talking about something that had happened before she arrived.

“Has Liam already asked you?” he asked, seeming more excited about her answer than the new year that would be starting soon. Twenty minutes, she read from the clock over the bar. “Probably chickened out, didn’t he? Got too scared to be rejected once more. I must say, the way you keep on denying giving him a chance, it’s fun to watch though as his brother, it’s kinda sad how long he’s been trying to get you to kiss him? I mean, every year for six years now, that’s crazy. He really never gives up, eh? Our Liam. What a fucker.”

“What?” she tried making sense of his gibberish talking, though nothing besides the words, ‘got too scared to be rejected once more’ and ‘he really never gives up’ stuck in her head. “What are you saying? Liam’s just doing this for banter, nothing more.”

“Banter?” Noel looked almost offended at her wording. “That boy’s proper in love with you. If it was just banter, he wouldn’t be at the airport right now, would he?”

“What?” More questions formed in her head.

“Fleeing the country to flee the heartbreak, a heartthrob isn’t he?” Rolling his eyes in amusement he didn’t notice the realisation dawning on her face, her eyes growing wide and her mouth opening slightly as if she wanted to say something but it was all stuck in her throat. Because he wasn’t the one she had to say it to, wrong brother.

Noel didn’t notice her distress until she jumped out of her seat and dashed past him, out of the bar and down the street. Running down the street she tried to catch a taxi to take her to him.

Liam was sat in a waiting room, waiting to board his plane in thirty minutes and finally let go of all this. Sitting with his head in his hands, going over what could’ve happened if he wasn’t so dumb to try again. He could be sat at the bar instead, pint in front of him, surrounded by friends and her. She’d still be there. Now, he had nothing of it anymore.

Standing up, he went outside once more, into the busy halls of the airport. Searching for the nearest phone available, he grabbed the last cents in his pocket he still had from her as an exchange to get a pint at the same bar a few days ago. He hadn’t given it back yet, wanting to take it as a souvenir of the trip. Pushing the little pieces of copper into the slot, he dialled a number he knew all too well.

“Hello, mum.”

Talking with his mum always calmed his mind, she just knew the answer to everything.

“Some people just aren’t meant for more than what we know than as,” she said shortly before she had to hang up.

Some people aren’t meant to be more, but he prayed that she wouldn’t be one of them. He really wanted her to be more. No matter what it’d take, he always thought she’d be more.

“Liam!”

Snapping his head to another direction from where he heard his name being called, he was brought back to reality. His plane boarded in twenty minutes. Midnight was in five. He’d be left alone once more, his lips left untouched by hers.

“Liam!”

The second time his name was shouted he saw her. The girl he wanted to run from was running towards him, out of breath like she hadn’t got to catch a break since he left the pub. Not slowing down the closer she got, she crashed into his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck.

“You idiot,” she mumbled against his skin, making his heart sink. His arms hesitated before they wrapped around her waist. “You fucking idiot, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he asked confused, trying to pull back from her but she wouldn’t let him go.

“I had to find out through Noel. You never said anything, you just asked if you got a kiss. You fucking idiot,” she kept on rambling, not catching a break even now to consider his question. Pulling back from him she saw the fear running through his mind.

“Well, I never wanted more.” It was a lie. They both knew it was a lie and when she shook her head at his answer, he knew that she knew too.

“But what if I didn’t?” she asked.

“Didn’t want what?” This was it, he was sure of it. This was the end of it all.

“What if I didn’t just want a kiss? What if I wanted more?” she let out, hesitating a bit.

“Well, do you want more?” he asked, not quite catching onto what she was trying to say.

“Yes, god, Liam. I want way more than just one kiss. I’ve been in love with you for ages, I never wanted just a new years kiss, that’s why I always brushed it off,” she confessed, biting her lip to hold back the tears forming in her eyes.

“I want more too,” he said, a heavy weight lifting from his chest. “I want way more.”

Before he could lean in and capture her lips like he’d dreamed about so many nights, she pushed his chest back, making his brows furrow in confusion.

“Ask me again,” she said.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked with a roll of his eyes, but for her he would even do the most embarrassing thing.

“Only for new years?”

“No.” he shook his head. “Every day and every night and every hour in between.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Good.”

Without another word he pulled her closer, their chest flushed together. Lips moving in sync and the fireworks going off. It was perfect.

Some people weren’t meant to be more, but they were. They finally were more.

“You’re not gonna take the flight back home tonight, Gallagher.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”