#noel next door

[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.

[jellalism]

Kinktober 2024, Day 12: Consequence (Erotica)

You were caught by Noel, and now you have to suffer the consequences of your escape attempt. Sequel to Day 5: Sneak.

Word count: 2441 words

Genre: Erotica, horror

Reader’s gender and sex: gender neutral, but “boy/girl” used. Reader does not wear a bra.

Content warnings: Yandere and all that that entails, including sadism/torture, rape/dubcon, manipulation. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Notes: Noel is an OC of @devotion-disorder. The art in the banner is also by them!

Read below or on AO3.

“Go on. Walk. You know the way to the punishment room.” Noel gives you a push in the back, making you stumble forward, forcing you further up the stairs. “The more you dawdle, the worse it will be. Time’s ticking, honey.” The way he uses that term is nowhere near cute. It is possessive. He uses it specifically to remind you to who you belong. Anyone else who’d call you ‘honey’ would soon eat their words… or become unable to speak any word at all.

You obediently make your way upstairs. Your body already hurts. The blood drips from your nose into your mouth and down your chin. The way he has kicked you in the back and slammed his body into yours once you were on the ground makes you feel sore all over. But you know it’s going to get worse. I’d better obey him, you think. There’s no way out.

“See? You can obey me. If only you had done that earlier, we would not be in this sticky situation. But noooo, you just had to try to break out.” He smacks your ass hard, but your trousers take some of the impact. For now. “Now I have to punish you.”

You reach the top of the stairs and go right without a word. To the punishment room, right next to the bedroom. The activities done in one room may easily lead to the adjoining one.

“Stand there.” He points some distance away from the door. He fishes a key out of his pocket and opens the door. “After you.” He holds the door open for you. For just a second, you hesitate, but you know you have no choice. Any survival instincts kicking in must be repressed. You have to embrace the pain to survive, counter-intuitive though it is.

The room is filled with all kinds of devices to inflict pain. There’s different whips, pads, cuffs, and things you don’t even know the use of. ‘Punishment room’ is a euphemism; ‘torture chamber’ is more apt. In the middle, a wooden table stands.

“On it. On your back. I want to see your face.”

You do as he says. Noel roughly grabs your wrists and clicks them into the cuffs attached to the table. They’re above shoulder height, so they don’t twist your arms too badly. But that’s not the point of the cuffs, anyway. The point is not even to stop you from escaping—Noel is strong and fast enough to do that with his body. The point is simply to make you feel helpless. To be unable to reflexively lift your arms in self-defense, to be unable to have that basic biological function do its work, adds to the utter despair that he can arouse in you. That he will arouse in you.

He takes your ankles and cuffs them to the table, as well. Your legs are a little ways apart.

“Oh, it seems like you still have your clothes on. Totally forgot about that!” Noel says, clearly acting. You can’t see him from your position. “Guess we’ll have to rid you of them unconventionally.” And suddenly, he hangs over you, showing you a knife. It looks sharp as hell. Your breathing grows shallow. You hope he isn’t going to do what you think he will.

He moves to the side of the table and positions the knife at the neck of your shirt. Then he presses down. You feel it pressing into your skin. He takes your shirt and starts cutting. He doesn’t press the knife into your body every time. But every once in a while, you feel the sharp blade moving over your torso, opening it up, no doubt making you bleed.

“Noel, I’m afraid,” you mutter. You didn’t even think about the words; they just came out automatically. Strangely, sometimes you find that you want him to comfort you. He’s always there for you, after all. The only one who’s there. And sometimes, in your despair, you cry out for him.

“You’re afraid? As you should be.” He finishes cutting and tears the remainders of your shirt from your body. You feel the cloth covering your back slide out from under you. Your entire torso is now displayed to him. “Bad [boy/girl]s won’t get any comfort from me. You fucked around. Now it’s time to find out.”

He clenches his fist and smashes it into your stomach. Pain sears through you. You feel the bile rising in your throat, but swallow it down. Then you sputter and cough, and scream.

“See? No pity from me. It’s all your fault, you know? I can be nice. You know I can be nice. I love you, and I want nothing but the best for you. You know this.” He caresses your face with the knife, leaving a shallow cut on your left cheek. “That’s why I’m hurting you. It would be terrible for you and me both if you were to continue misbehaving. So I need to beat it out of you.”

“P-please,” you stammer in fear. You know it won’t do anything, but the words just spill from your mouth.

Noel ignores you. He moves to the back of the table, outside of your field of vision. “Time to get started on your trousers.” He sets the knife at the bottom, making a cut in the cloth near your right ankle. “Fuck it, I don’t have time for this.” You hear the sound of tearing cloth and feel cold air running up all over your leg. He does the same for your left leg: a small cut at the bottom, and rest is just one big tear. For the last part, near your waist, he takes out his knife again. He doesn’t hold back this time. He sets the knife in the cloth forcefully and cuts the last bit of cloth efficiently, without regard for your skin. You whimper and cry as the knife leaves a deep cut. You hear Noel chuckle.

He quickly removes the tatters of your trousers from your body. You’re only wearing your underwear now, though there’s not much left of it. But there’s still enough to conceal your most private parts.

“I’ll leave that on for now.”

You sigh in relief. A last shred of dignity can be retained. It is a tiny shred, but you have to take what you can get.

“Just kidding!” And he tears your underwear apart, exposing your genital area.

“Noel!” you cry out.

“What is it, baby?” He sounds cruel.

“Noel… please… I’m s-sorry. I’m so so sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear!” You’ve completely lost control of your mouth, rattling off apologies without even thinking about it.

He moves so that you can see him again. “No can do. I told you: if you are naughty, you will be punished. It’s not like I want to hurt you, but it’s necessary. You should never ever forget what happens when you break the rules. The consequences of that should be as dependable as gravity.” He says that, but you know better. He fucking loves to hurt you. Part of him is happy you broke the rules, so that he has a good excuse for fucking demolishing you. Knowing that only intensifies the fear.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Noel moves back and rummages around. “Ah, got it!” He steps towards you to show you his find. A whip. But not just any whip: this one has spiky studs. “This will be a night to remember, y/n.”

“Please, for the love of God, Noel, stop!” Tears are streaming down your face; the terror he inspires in you is out of this world. “I beg of you!”

“Hmmm… should I stop?”

“Please, Noel! I’ll do anything for you! Please, just… don’t hurt me.” Something inside of you breaks, and you start sobbing even louder, making you unable to speak another word.

Noel just laughs. Suddenly, you feel a searing pain on your thighs, and you scream at the top of your lungs. As soon as you finish the scream, you gulp for air, but then the whip strikes again. Another scream escapes you; your entire world is pain. Somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you hear Noel complain giddily about how you make too much noise, but it doesn’t register. All you can do is sob and scream.

More lashings follow—you don’t even know how many, nor how long it lasts. Just that, at some point, the burning pain stops renewing itself. Suddenly, Noel’s face is right above yours; too close. “Now that’s what I like to see. You’ve learned your lesson now, right?”

You nod shakily, unable to do anything else. He could be asking you to sell your soul and you’d still nod; all you want is for the pain to end.

“Good, good.” He undoes the cuffs around your wrists and ankles. You feel his arms slide under you and, with a grunt, he lifts you up and walks out of the room. You both know you wouldn’t be able to walk by yourself. Still sobbing, you snuggle against him. God, how you missed him. This softer Noel. The one that would hold you in his arms.

He chuckles. “You’re such a good [boy/girl] now.”

A few moments later, he throws you on the bed. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he carried you to the bedroom. Noel is undressing hurriedly, unable to wait another moment.

“On your stomach. And place a pillow under yourself, so that your ass sticks out.”

You’re not sure if this is part of the punishment, or just ‘business as usual’. Things blend into each other. But at least, when he fucks you, he’s not as cruel as he is in that other room. So, for all intents and purposes, this is not punishment; this is a treat. Even though he’ll fuck on his own terms, as hard as he wants.

You obey him and, within seconds, you feel him take his place behind you. Two lubed up fingers massage the rim of your asshole. “You always make me so horny, you know? I love to see you happy, but God, your crying face just makes me want to fuck you so hard.” He slips in a finger and thrusts it in and out at a high pace. “I just can’t wait to fuck all those sweet moans out of you. It was so hard for me too, you know? To not thrust my cock inside you then and there.” Already, he adds a second finger. “You’re still tight, but I’ve waited so long, I can’t just…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

You want to speak, but you’re still unable to, your body completely broken and shaking all over. Noel continues his preparation of your ass. After a little more than a minute, he thinks he has prepared you enough. You’re not quite so sure, but you don’t struggle. If he thinks it’s enough, it must be enough. What Noel says goes.

“Ready for my cock, love?” He is holding your waist as you feel the head of his penis stimulating the rim of your anus. He presses inside; his impatience in the preparation makes it a little tight still, but he enters. There’s pain, but compared to the pain elsewhere in your body, it’s negligible. He sighs deeply, contentedly. “So damn good.”

He changes his position to lay on top of you, covering your body with his. With one hand, he pins your right hand to the mattress; the other wraps under your left armpit and grabs you at the throat roughly. Your breathing becomes more labored as he constricts the air flow.

“You like that, huh? Being all mine. You don’t get to breathe unless I allow it, got that?” He starts moving his cock, thrusting in and out slowly. His member is rather thick, and it always takes a while for your hole to get used to it.

When you don’t reply, he shortly squeezes your throat hard before loosening his grip, leaving you gasping for air. “I said, did you get that?”

“Y-y-yes, Noel.” Your voice comes out as a wheeze.

“Good,” he coos. “That’s how I know my sweetheart.” He lets go of your throat and pins your other hand to the mattress, too. “I think you’re loosened up enough by now.”

It’s true; his cock is going in and out more easily than it was before.

“Let me paint your insides white.” With those words, he starts fucking you in earnest. Hard and deep; with each thrust you scream it out. “That’s it, y/n!” he moans in your ear. “Let it out. Let me hear how good you feel.”

And, despite everything, he was right: you did feel good. He had abused you, even tortured you. But that was the punishment, which was over now. So, surely, now you could enjoy yourself… right? It was hard to think straight around him. He didn’t allow you the space in your mind.

“How does it feel, baby?” Not having gotten his answer in words, his tone became more demanding. He accompanied it with a particularly hard thrust. The pain surged through you, but there was pleasure, too.

“Feels so good!” you mewled. “Noel… Noel…” You moan his name over and over, and he, with his mouth so close to your ear, whispers yours. You can feel his breath and hear every tiny sound he makes.

“See? If you behave, I’ll fuck you nicely. Isn’t it pleasant like this?”

“Yes, Noel.” You’re not even sure anymore if you mean what you say, or what the causal chain of events is. Did you agree with him because it is pleasant, or is it pleasant because you agreed with him?

“That’s a good [boy/girl].” His breathing grows more labored as he keeps penetrating you deeply. “I’m going to cum soon,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna cum inside, and fill you up really good. You did so good bearing the punishment. You deserve it, you deserve my thick cock shooting it all inside you.” His voice grows more frenetic as he gets closer to ejaculation. He moans and groans and you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuuuuck.” With a final thrust, he shoots his load inside of you. He can’t help but twitch inside of you as he ejaculates. “God damn, you feel so good.”

You feel a warm feeling welling up inside you. It’s happiness. You feel happy you can please him.

You’ve truly become his bitch.

[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)

[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.

[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 !

[biblical-chronicles]

Questioning

____________________________________________

where Noel asks the reader about a "dilf" sign he saw at his gig

____________________________________________

Noel adjusted his guitar strap as the final notes of "AKA… What a Life!" echoed through the venue. The crowd roared, hands clapping and voices chanting for more, but Noel was already striding toward the wings. The band sounded tight, the energy was right, and he’d once again proven that no one commands a crowd quite like him.

But halfway through the set, something strange had caught his eye. A poster, held aloft in the middle of the crowd, scrawled with three words in massive, bold letters: "yer a dilf"

He’d clocked it during the set and though it had thrown him for a moment, he’d carried on. Still, it had stuck with him in that niggling, puzzling way. What the hell did that mean?

By the time he showed up at the studio the next morning, the word had been shoved to the back of his mind. Now he was focused on his next idea—a guitar riff he wanted to experiment with—but naturally, he didn’t have the right pedal for it. Thankfully, he knew exactly who'd have it.

You.

You were tucked away in your studio room, most likely immersed in whatever you were working on. Over the past year, Noel had found himself wandering into your space more and more often. You weren’t just another musician sharing the same building—you were clever, sharp, and always good for a laugh. And as much as he hated to admit it, you had a way of making him feel... well, younger. Like the days when he was still figuring out melodies in Manchester, hungry and full of fire.

Not that he’d ever tell you that, of course.

He sauntered down the hall and knocked on your door. “Oi, open up. It’s me.”

The door swung open, and there you were, a screwdriver in hand, clearly mid-repair on a piece of gear. The moment you saw him, your lips tugged into a smirk, and Noel felt that familiar, irritating flutter in his chest.

“Noel Gallagher,” you said, leaning against the doorframe dramatically. “What’s it this time? Lost your capo? Need me to write a chorus for you?”

“Dead funny,” he said dryly, stepping past you into the room. “ I need your wah pedal.”

You crossed your arms, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “The wah? What happened to the one you already have?”

“Dodgy connection,” he muttered, glancing at your gear. “Won’t work for what I’m tryin’ to do, and can't be arsed to call someone to fix it.”

“So naturally, you thought, ‘I’ll nick hers,’” you said, grabbing the pedal and holding it behind your back.

“Borrow,” he corrected, narrowing his eyes. “What’s with all the dramatics? Just hand it over.”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “What’s in it for me?”

Noel sighed, exasperated. “You want me to buy you a coffee or somethin’? Jesus. You’re not exactly doin’ me a massive favor.”

“Not a massive favor?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “You’re using me gear to record your brilliant idea. You don’t think I deserve a bit of compensation for that?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll give it back in one piece, all right? You’re actin’ like I’m takin’ your bloody guitar.”

“Maybe I should start charging you rental fees,” you teased, finally handing over the pedal.

He snatched it, muttering under his breath. “You’re a proper nightmare, you know that?”

“Aw, you love it,” you said, grinning as you leaned against the desk. “Anyway, how was the gig last night? Sorry I missed it—had a soundcheck that ran long.”

“Good,” he said, setting the pedal on a nearby stool. “Crowd was mad for it. But listen…” His expression shifted slightly, like he’d just remembered something. “I meant to ask you summat. Since you’re younger, you might know.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m some kind of translator for youth culture?”

“Something like that,” he said, smirking. “Right, so there was this sign in the crowd last night. Big letters, bold as anything. It said… ‘dilf’” He spelled it out carefully, like he was reading from a suspicious text. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The room went silent for a beat as you processed what he’d just said. Then your lips twitched, and before you could stop yourself, you burst into laughter.

Noel frowned, watching you double over with your hand pressed to your mouth. “What the bloody hell’s so funny?”

You shook your head, trying to catch your breath. “Oh my God, Noel. You really don’t know what it means?”

“That’s why I’m askin’, genius.”

You straightened up, wiping tears from your eyes. “No, it’s just—” You dissolved into laughter again, practically leaning against the desk for support.

He folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Go on, then. What is it? Can’t be that complicated.”

You took a deep breath, still grinning. “It’s… well… it stands for ‘Dad I’d Like to…’” You hesitated for dramatic effect, raising your eyebrows.

Noel’s expression shifted as realization dawned on him. His eyes widened slightly before narrowing again in disbelief. “You’re takin’ the piss.”

“I swear I’m not,” you said, your grin widening.

“So you’re tellin’ me,” he said slowly, “someone in that crowd held up a sign basically sayin’ I’m a fit dad?”

“Yeah,” you said, still giggling. “That’s definitely you, Noel.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ. That’s gotta be a new low.”

“Are you kidding? That’s a compliment,” you teased. “Take it and run with it.”

“Brilliant,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Just what I always wanted.”

You laughed harder, clutching your stomach as you tried to calm down. “I’m sorry, but it’s hilarious. The fact you didn’t know makes it even better.”

Noel sighed, but he couldn’t entirely suppress his smirk. “Right, well, this is the last time I ask you for help with anything. Bloody hell.”

“You say that now,” you shot back, wiping tears from your eyes. “But you’ll be back. Especially when you break me wah pedal.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, though his voice was lighter now. He leaned against the desk, his earlier embarrassment fading into amusement. “Anyway, remind me not to look at the crowd next time. Clearly, it’s hazardous for me ego.”

“I dunno,” you said, grinning. “I think it’s good for you. Keeps you humble.”

“Humble?!” he repeated, his voice mock-indignant. “That’s rich, comin’ from you.”

You just laughed again, and for a moment, the teasing faded into something softer. His gaze lingered on you, the corners of his mouth still curved upward. There was an ease between you, a rhythm he found himself looking forward to more often than he’d like to admit.

“Right,” he said finally, standing up straight and grabbing the pedal. “I’d better get back before someone accuses me of bein’ a slacker. You’re still a nightmare, by the way.”

“And you’re still a dilf” you shot back, grinning as he headed for the door.

He turned in the doorway, his smirk widening. “See you later, yeah?”

“See you later,” you replied, your smile lingering long after the door closed.

Noel was making his way back to your studio with the pedal after he’d barely had the thing for a day, but something about your teasing yesterday had lodged itself in his head. Maybe he wanted to prove he wasn’t a total thief. Or maybe, if he was honest with himself, he just wanted to see you again.

He pushed open your door without knocking, the pedal dangling from his hand like a trophy. “Right, look at me. Returnin’ your crap like a responsible citizen. You can shut up about it now.”

You looked up from your desk, your eyes lighting up as a grin spread across your face. “Ah, me favorite dilf has returned!”

Noel groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For the love of God, are we still on about that?”

“Obviously,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “I told you yesterday, it’s your new title. You might as well embrace it.”

He dropped the pedal on your desk and folded his arms. “Don’t get too comfortable, because I’m not lettin’ this dilf thing stick.”

“Oh, it’s sticking,” you teased. “Everyone here will know about it soon enough.”

His eyes widened. “What, are you plannin’ to tell people?”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Maybe. Could be fun.”

He groaned again, clearly frustrated. “Right, if you’re so bloody obsessed with callin’ me a dilf…” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone, really wanting you to drop it. “Would you like to do that, then?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “The whole DILF thing. Isn’t that the bloody point? If you’re gonna keep sayin’ it, might as well put your money where your mouth is.”

The second the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize what he’d just implied. His face shifted slightly, caught between frustration and awkwardness.

For a moment, you stared at him, your lips twitching as you tried to suppress a laugh. And then it burst out of you, loud and infectious.

“Oh my God,” you said, leaning back in your chair and clutching your stomach. “Noel, did you just—did you seriously say that?”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as his face flushed. “You’re impossible, you know that? I just wanted to shut you up.”

You grinned, still laughing. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Noel sighed, shaking his head. “I’m never hearin’ the end of this, am I?”

“Not a chance,” you said, your grin widening.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips now. “You’re lucky I’ve got a thick skin, or you’d be in trouble.”

“You love it,” you said, standing up and leaning against the desk. “Admit it. You’d be bored without me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” he said, though his voice had softened. His gaze flickered to yours, and for a moment, the banter gave way to something heavier, something unspoken.

“Still,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “you haven’t answered the question.”

“What question?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you repeated, your voice quieter now, teasing but with an edge of sincerity.

His smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something closer to vulnerability. “Maybe I would,” he murmured, his voice low.

The room fell silent. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly the space between you vanished. His hand came up to your cheek as his lips met yours, tentative at first but quickly deepening into something more certain. You felt your heart race as you leaned into him, your hands curling into the fabric of his jacket.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you found him watching you with a mixture of amusement and something warmer, something deeper.

“Still gonna call me that?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse but laced with humor.

“Absolutely,” you said, grinning as you leaned in to kiss him again.

This time, there was no hesitation, no lingering awkwardness—just the spark that had been building between you for months, finally ignited.

When you pulled back again, you rested your forehead against his, still smiling. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

“No,” he admitted, his smirk returning. “Though I reckon you’re still a pain in the arse.”

“And yet here you are,” you teased, echoing his words from the day before.

“Here I am,” he said softly, his gaze locked on yours.

When you pulled back from another kiss, you couldn’t resist one last jab. “So, was borrowing me pedal part of some grand plan to seduce me?”

“Obviously,” he deadpanned, though there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m a bloody mastermind, me.”

“Good plan,” you said, stepping back slightly.

“Told you—got layers,” he quipped, his smirk softening into something warmer.

He fell silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on yours, and you could see him hesitate slightly, like he was debating something. Finally, he shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said, a little gruffly. “Since you’re so keen on seein’ me all the time…”

“Oh, is this about to be an elaborate way of asking me out?” you teased, your grin widening.

“Shut it,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m bein’ serious. What’re you doin’ later? Fancy goin’ for a drink or summat? You know, if you’re not too busy comin’ up with more ways to wind me up.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. I suppose I could pencil you in, dilf”

“You’re gonna regret sayin’ that when we’re out in public,” he muttered, though there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You love it,” you said, and he rolled his eyes, heading toward the door.

“You folded your arms, watching him as he finally made his way to the door. “Gonna come back tomorrow and borrow something else?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said, though his tone was light.

“You know where to find me love, see you later” you called after him.

And as you sat back at your desk, your grin lingering, you couldn’t help but feel that the banter—and whatever came next—was far from over.

____________________________________________

Loved writin’ this one, and don’t worry you lot, I’ll be back to crackin’ on with requests soon x

Loosely based on that vid of Noel clockin’ a sign like that at a gig, if you ain’t seen it.

Let me know what you thought, love ya all loads xx

[leaawrites]

can u write about noel going all out for your one year anniversary, can u write it all romantic and fluffy.. im yearning for lover boy gallagher

Lover Boy Gallagher

Noel Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Noel goes all out for their one year anniversary.

Warnings: a bit angst (sorry, can't help myself), swearing, established relationship, fluff, I hope this is how you imagined it!

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

The house was empty, like most days this time around. With the recording of their new album, all Oasis members were constantly in the studio and rarely anywhere else. Especially not home with their girlfriends or family.

At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n assured Noel that she was fine with being home alone and that her time without him wouldn’t change the love she felt for him. She promised him that exactly a year ago and still held it to this day. Falling for him a bit more with every longing touch they shared when he finally arrived back in their bed late at night. The nights falling short for them both, when they remembered that Noel had to be in the studio the next day and Y/n had a job of her own.

Even with the house being empty, she still tiptoed down the stairs towards the kitchen. For her, there were no expectations as to what Noel might’ve done for their anniversary, though she didn’t expect a lot. Maybe some flowers, a card at best. He was never the best at giving gifts, he knew what he wanted, but knowing what those around him wanted was most often not his strong suit, unless it was something were specific he’d see one day and just buy while waiting for the next opportunity to gift it to someone. If it wasn’t accidental or impulsive, it wouldn’t be much. The biggest present he gave her once for her birthday were a pair of shoes she’d wanted for quite some time already. He’d seen them in a store one day and bought them. Other times, it were just chocolates she’d receive from him.

Still, when she peaked into the living room and onto their dinner table, there was no trace that he even lived there, beside the usual empty coffee mugs or the shoes and coats at the front door. He hadn’t forgotten, had he? He surely hadn’t, Y/n tried to convince herself as she took the empty empty coffee mugs and put them in the sink to clean later. Settling on the sofa and turning the TV on, she thought back to what was hidden in her part of the closet, behind what seemed to be an endless row of dresses. One of them bought just for tonight. Maybe he’d take her out for dinner. A simple reservation could be made quickly with his connections, she thought.

She had noticed his absence, which seemed to be more apparent now than with the album before. Having been friends before, she knew how long he’d usually spent in the studio and how much time he used to spent with his other girlfriends. He was attentive at the beginning of their relationship, what would happen to them after already breaking apart in a year? How much further could they fall? She didn’t want to think about it, but in the quiet of their shared house, there was no around it at some point of the day. Were they truly meant to be like she always believed them to be? Was he truly the man worth fighting for even when her friends told her about all the amazing things their boyfriends - or even husbands - did for them, sacrificing their own time for them? Noel never gave a reason to doubt it, until she spent more time with the TV than him.

The world outside wore a dark grey over the usual green and blue blur of earth and sky. It looked like it might rain in an hour or so. Shutting off the TV, she made her way upstairs again. With a thicker sweater over her body to stay warm and her laptop in her lap, she started getting comfortable on the little patio they had, overlooking their garden and those beyond. She needed to clear her head even when she would freeze while doing so. Working from home was a privilege only the fewest had, but working as a journalist made it all a bit more available for her. The papers she took home from work laid next to her, held safely by an ashtray. Starting to type she started getting lost in the words and stories. Stories that weren’t her own completely, which made it easier to escape reality.

Only coming back once she heard his voice from behind, her fingers stopped typing and felt cold for the first time in two hours. The blood stopped pumping through them like it’d done before, circulating slower and making her hands shake.

“Are you fucking mental?” he asked her, taking the laptop from her lap and pulling her inside. “Are you trying to kill yourself outside in the cold?”

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to tell him, though her argument was worthless the moment he took her freezing hands in his own, warming them up like he’d always do. Shaking his head he continued cursing her under his breath for behaving like that. ‘How can you do stuff this stupid?’ she could hear him muttering. ‘Scaring me like this.’

“I’m fine,” she tried to convince him once more, smiling in assurance and holding his face with her cold hands, making him shiver at the cold touch. Laughing at his reaction she fell into him, leaning closer and ultimately hugging him. Snuggling her face into his chest and sighing in contempt. “I missed you though.”

“I missed you too, love,” Noel said back, holding her close like he was afraid she’d slip away, into the cold again, leaving the warmth all to himself. What was warmth worth if you were lonely?

Angling her head up, she could see his () eyes already watching her, his eyebrows racing in question as he saw the uncertain look on her face. He’d always know whenever there was something on her mind and he never held her back from speaking her mind. Taking in a deep breath, she let out in a small voice, “You’re gone now more often than before.”

“I know, love.” His hand started rubbing up and down her lower back, heating her up. “But it will stop now, I promise.”

“But, you’re not done with the album yet, are you?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then why won’t you be gone for longer now?”

What was he doing instead? Y/n could feel her insides twist and turn. Churning in fear and exploding with anxiety building up inside of her. Her heart as racing, the beat quickening. If this was a song it would be played in the club, she was sure of it. The blood pumping through her quicker now but she felt colder than before.

What was he doing instead? The words repeated in her head, doubling every second into more question. But this one stayed in the front all the time. Hypothesis after hypothesis appearing in front of her inner eye, playing like a movie she wanted to turn off but couldn’t look away from. It was just too disturbing.

And Noel seemed to notice none of her feelings beside confusion.

“Needed to finish your gift.” Seeing her eyes widen like the movie finally ended, he only laughed at her reaction. “Don’t say you forgot what day it is.”

‘I thought you did,’ she wanted to say. “How could I forget the first time you talked to me with your back turned out of nervousness?” she said instead, bringing a blush to creep up his neck. Noel’s face hiding in the crook of her neck as he laughed in embarrassment just thinking about the situation that took place outside of a pub they were all at.

The two of them had been flirting for some time already, though neither wanted to put a label on what they were doing. With the surprising success of ‘Definitely, Maybe’ Y/n was thankful for even the smallest second she got to spent with two of her favourite people. As one could’ve seen coming from the beginning though, having less than something hurt more than having nothing, at least then she would’ve known where she was at. They both would’ve. Having to watch Y/n dance with some random guy over him and having Liam slur in his ear as to ‘how fucking childish’ he was behaving was the last straw for Noel and the reason why he found himself outside with Y/n by his side in the cold London streets. And then it all just happened. The words flew from his mouth like they’ve never done before, not even when writing songs, and after a long pause from the woman’s side, their lips finally touched in a way they’ve never done before. True passion and love being exchanged between them.

To her, he spoke poetry without thinking much about it.

A talent she hadn’t seen before. One she could never learn. So, listening to him making it feel so easy was an addiction she would never feel guilty of.

“You wanna open your present?” His words were muffled against the skin of her neck, where he laid little kisses for her. His lips travelling further up, over her jaw and cheek until they reached her lips.

“Yes.”

“Wait here,” he instructed her, losing his body from hers and walking back into the kitchen where he left it to go look for her the moment he came back. It wasn’t wrapped nicely, but Liam wanted to help so he let him.

When he came back, Y/n was sat on the sofa, hands clasped together like a child on Christmas. Excitement rushing through her veins. The present was a thin, poorly wrapped, square that was light in her hands. Scrunching her eyebrows together without a clue of what was in her hands, Noel urged her to open it, leaning on the cushion behind the headrest and watching her every move as she neatly loosened the tape from the wrapping material. Grasping the gift, she pulled it out, revealing a vinyl she’d never seen before. A simple white record sleeve over it with a message written on it. A message for her. ‘An apology for all the nights I’ve missed because of this,’ she read.

“What is it?” she asked, gently taking the record from the sleeve, separating them and letting the paper-like material drop to the cushion she sat on. Turning it, she read the tiles first, none of which she recognized, before reading the singer. Noel Gallagher.

Turning her head sharply his way she felt tears prick in her eyes. Mouth agape and her fingers holding the record tight to not drop it. Noel laughed at her reaction, the blush reappearing to his face. “All for you. All eight of them only for you.”

“You produced your own album?”

“Not mine. Ours.

“Nobody will ever hear this beside you, you know? These are just for you.”

[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.”

[pparadiselost]

la maison.

noel noa x single mother fem reader noa finds himself falling head over heels for the sweet mom next door. warning(s): nsfw, alcohol, dubious consent (drunk sex), single mother reader, named son oc (irrelevant outside of pornmaking plot), creampie, breeding minors do not interact.

recently, noel noa has developed a bit of a problem. 

he had fallen in love with his next-door-neighbor. which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the most unique nor the most world-shattering of issues he could possibly have, but these once trivial feelings he had no time to waste on started taking root in his head, they began to spread like wildfire throughout his daily life.

the pro soccer player was mildly surprised to find out that the young man who had lived next to him in the quaint apartment he called home had moved out while he was playing overseas. noa didn’t think too much of it. he rarely ever grew close with the neighbors around him. he was often out of the house, gone for months to even years at a time playing for whatever country or club summoned him, and when he was home, he preferred spending his time alone rather than getting attached to people who he had nothing in common with.

but the two of you had gotten off on a completely unexpected foot.

“dada!” the squirming toddler in your arms squeals. you nearly drop the bag of groceries you were precariously balancing on your elbow, yelping softly as your son uses all the force he can muster in his tiny body to lurch towards noa. “dada, dada!”

“no, sweetie, that’s not your dad,” you gently remind him, unable to stop the sheepish smile that tugs at your lips. you expertly lean the little boy against your hip while you regain your grip on your groceries, flashing an apologetic smile at noa. “i’m so sorry about that. he has a habit of saying that to every man he sees.”

noa stands practically frozen in his doorframe. he’s seen his fair share of almost blasphemously beautiful women in his life: models, actresses, influencers… but nothing holds a candle to the way his heart thumps in his chest when his eyes land on you. every bit of you screams sweet yet battered to him, your eyes mild and gentle by the tugs of time and your body all covered with loose clothes to make sure your boy could hug right into every little nook and cranny that he pleases. 

a perfect image of motherhood.

his dick throbs in his pants. 

it’s lecherous. he doesn’t even know your name, and he’s getting turned on. hell, you might even be married, yet he’s lusting after you. 

“it’s alright. i know how kids are,” he lies. he actually doesn’t know how kids are, but it’s enough to get you to laugh again. “do you live near here? i don’t think i’ve seen you around.”

“ah! i do.” you lift a hand to point at the door right next to his while your son tugs at your clothes impatiently. he keeps mumbling dada, dada in that gurgling voice of his, looking up at you and then stealing glances at noa. “we moved in fairly recently. i didn’t think we’d have a neighbor, because i thought the next door apartment was empty.”

his heart skips a beat, and noa coughs to clear his throat. “i see. my job requires me to be overseas a lot, so i’m out of the house often. i suppose, that makes us next-door-neighbors then. my name is noel noa. it’s lovely to meet you.”

he half-expects you to gasp and run off upon hearing his name, but instead your smile widens. “it’s lovely to meet you as well. my name is (y/n). this naughty little elf right here is honoré. do you wanna say hi to mr. noa, sweetie?”

you keep cooing at the boy, while noa breathes a sigh of relief. so you don’t recognize him to be a pro player. in some ways he prefers that. he wouldn’t want to scare you away. his mind races when he thinks about how he’s now next door to who he believes is the most fuckable woman on earth. 

“alright, it was a joy meeting you. i’ll see you around then, mr. noa?” you offer. 

‘noel is fine.’ noa nods, mumbling an agreement before you wave and disappear into your suite, leaving him dumbfounded in his doorframe. what was he even leaving the house for? he doesn’t remember anymore.

but god. temptation had fallen straight into his lap, and if the arousal churning deep in his gut told him anything, it was that his life was going to be trouble from now on.

…

…

…

noel noa has also come across a stroke of luck. his manager on the other end of the phone sighs and tells him that the next season has been postponed for a few months, mumbling on about some logistics issues between the professional leagues regarding budgeting and some new stadium being built. noa couldn’t care less: his job was to play soccer, and that was final.

the bottom line was clear. he wouldn’t be flying out and disappearing again, and for a few months, he was free to do as he wanted so long as he kept himself in tip-top shape and maintained his usual training.

a guilty part of him celebrates. it means he gets to stay longer with you, right next doors. he’s been running into you more often, and you’re always quick to offer up a small greeting and make small talk with him when time allows. noa tries so, so hard to be a good man and genuinely get to know you as a good neighbor should, rather than to look at you and be driven half-insane by how much he wishes he could drag you to his suite and fuck you on his bed. 

honoré never fails to happily scream out “dada!” at noa when he sees the man, and you always correct your son with a stern voice. part of noa wants you to stop correcting him, his inner lust-demon celebrating slightly at the fact that your son is ready to accept him as his father. noa had been hesitant on full-on courting you, or at least, what he considered courting (lavinho never failed to make fun of him for having “the flirtation skills of a 13th century monk!”), having assumed that you had a husband.

but he notices the lack of a wedding band around your ring finger. could it be that you didn’t have a husband, after all?

not that it matters. noa knows he shouldn’t let himself daydream. he barely knows you, and the very least he can do is show you a modicum of respect rather than treating you like some hunk of hot meat on the dating market. 

it’s dark outside when noa sits down in his bed, unwinding by himself after a long day of analyzing previous games and practicing by himself out in one of the nearby training fields. he hasn’t seen you all day, but he knows you’re home because he stole a peek at your apartment window while heading in. the lights are on, and presumably, you’re inside. it isn’t safe for a woman and a little child to be out and about when it’s dark, and noa wonders if he should offer to escort you if you ever need to go out. 

no. he shouldn’t overstep. he really shouldn’t.

but what really throws him for a loop is what he hears through the thin apartment walls. at first he thought it was his phone, having auto-started a video, but nothing in his house could be capable of making that noise. noa sits still on his bed and cranes his ears, and then realization settles like cold snow on his body.

you’re singing. your voice is hushed, loving, and every now and then, noa makes out the whiny cries of a little boy.

he pauses. 

dear lord. are you singing your son to sleep?

noa grits his teeth and stifles a groan when a rush of blood floods his groin, and his pants immediately start tightening up. he’s used up all of his self-restraint to not feel this way around you, yet the thought of you, in such domestic bliss with your toddler, turns him ridiculously on. his cock fucking hurts from how hard it is, pressing up angrily against his pants and demanding that he do something about it. his stomach throbs and swirls with need, with the desire to fuck something until he’s satisfied.

his hand absentmindedly wanders to the waistband of his pants, and he guides his dick so that it springs free from its restrictive confines. noa doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before in his life—his cock slaps up against his stomach, and the irritated tip is already drooling greedily. noa hisses quietly when the cold air rushes against his swollen organ, and he carefully wraps his hand around his dick.

you continue your singing.

noa wonders how you must look. he wonders if your sweet hair is damp from a shower, or if you’re getting ready to step into the bath once you put your son to sleep. he wishes he could bury his face in your hair and lewdly inhale, and he begins to slowly stroke his cock at the thought of your features.

maybe you’d hold your son to your chest. blood swells south at the thought of your breasts. the sloping curve that you always hid behind conservative clothes. noa isn’t sure if he wants to sweetly coax you out of them, getting you to shyly bare yourself for him, or if he wants to rip them off of you like an animal and savor the way you squeal and try to cover yourself up.

he wants to grope your tits. your gorgeous tits, made to hold a little boy close to your heart, once filled with milk to feed your son, all swollen and easily filling up his cupped hands. noa barely holds back a moan as he fists himself while daydreaming about your breasts. 

he’d ghost his fingertips over your puffy nipples. he’d hear you cry out, sobbing out a “i-i’m sensitive there, noel-” while he teases them. he’d tug on them too, after a while, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while he has his way with your body. he’d keep on circling his fingers all over your supple breasts, the dainty signs of motherhood filling out and fueling his own libido.

his cock twitches in his fist. he’s leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. just the mental image of your fat tits has him acting this way, and noa doesn’t know what to do with himself. his balls tighten and contract, and your singsongy filling his ears overwhelms with lust.

he wants to fuck you. he wants to fuck you so bad. his length is fuming at him for not being buried into your delicate body. noa wants to fuck into you anywhere he can get. 

your smaller hands, struggling to fully wrap your fingers around his thick cock. or your mouth, that canary-like voice of yours being put to good use by choking and slobbering all over him. or even your tits that he had been drooling over, slapping his cockhead over your sensitive nipples until you’re squirming and scrunching your face up the way he likes it. your plush thighs wouldn’t be too bad too, hearing your breath hitch and hike up an octave whenever his tip catches on your throbbing clit.

‘fuck- fucking hell, fuck, fuck…!’ he grits his teeth as his hands speed up, fucking against his cock as if he were a bull in heat. he hasn’t even had the opportunity to fantasize about your gummy pussy yet, and he’s already this close. 

he’s too preoccupied taking his time fucking you with his eyes in his mind, stroking fervently to the sound of your muffled voice. he wants to cum, he wants to cum so bad, he wants to take all of his pent-up frustration and make it real and tangible that you’re the one who drove him to this ridiculous state.

he swears he’s going to fuck you. he swears he’s going to fuck his cock into you until your body bends and breaks to him, until you turn into a fucked-out shell of the sweetheart that lives next door. he’s going to get you fucking hooked on his cock so that you’re drooling and chasing after sex with as much as he’s going crazy for you. 

horribly wet shlick-shlick noises echo around his bedroom as he thrusts himself all over his hand. his stomach twists violently, and his heavy balls contract painfully before noa cums all over himself.

‘shit. shit…!’

he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, forcing down any noises out of fear that you might hear. the rush almost breaks him. ropes of heady cum splash all over his chest and abs, instantly drenching and burning into his skin. he strokes himself through his orgasm, the coils in his gut twisting against themselves, unfurling in and out as pure pleasure streaks through his body. god, this was so wrong of him to do, but noa would be fucking damned if he said he ever came this hard before.

his cock hangs from the pricks of overstimulation as he continues to stroke himself, coaxing out every second of his orgasm as he possibly could. shame immediately floods his body like ice water when his foggy mind clears bit-by-bit, yet he can’t bring himself to jump to his feet and start cleaning up.

noa sits defeatedly in his bed. his chest heaves as he catches his breath, wishing his cum was streaked all over you rather than his own body, and he swallows thickly. he feels horrendously guilty, yet in a twist of ironic fate, your voice keeps trickling through the thin walls.

noa doesn’t even have time to fully let the guilt hit before his dick is swelling up in his fist again. 

‘one more round. just one more round,’ he bargains with himself, ‘just until you stop singing lullabies to your son.’

…

…

…

“i’m so sorry, noel,” you laugh awkwardly. “i really hope i’m not bothering you.”

“it’s no problem at all, really. this is what neighbors are for.”

you stand a few paces in front of him, and the exhausted smile on your face makes noa’s heart speed up dangerously. honoré is fast asleep on your back, strapped to you with a baby harness. in noa’s hands is a stubborn jar of sauce, which, according to you, absolutely refused to open no matter what you did or how hard you had tried to wrench the lid open.

noa firmly grips the lid, and with a small grunt, he easily pops the jar lid open. your eyes widen in awe as he flexes his muscles subtly, a few of the veins in his toned arms becoming visible. he notices you staring at him, and he gently screws the lid back on before handing it back to you.

“thank you so much!” you beam. “it stressed me out so much that i couldn’t get it open. silly of me to think that when i have you right here. classic case of mom brain.”

noa thinks he’s going to stop breathing. you’re beaming at him in such a lighthearted manner, and your words bring his brain to full halt for a split second. he manages a lukewarm smile, and he’s getting ready to wave you off and let you scurry back into your apartment complex before you pause.

“you know… if you aren’t that busy tonight, would you like to come over for dinner? i’m in the middle of cooking right now—well, duh—and i feel like it wouldn’t hurt to make friends with the person living right next door,” you offer up innocently. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to! i completely get it-”

“-i’d love to. when would you like me over?” noa doesn’t even need to consider his options. “should i dress up?”

“dress up?” you gasp. “you don’t need to do anything fancy like that! it’ll just be a nice home cooked meal, maybe a little wine, just as a sign of goodwill. i’ll still need about… let’s say an hour? that way i can clean up a little too… the petit rascal here has a knack for getting into everything.”

“an hour sounds good to me. thank you for the invitation. i’ll look forward to it,” he responds plainly. his thoughts are going a million miles per hour. 

dinner. at your place. with you. just you and him. 

lady luck must be on his side. not even playing in the world cup could compare to the amount of anxiety and anticipation bubbling up inside of him. you flash him a thumbs-up, unaware of the wrench you had thrown into his nearly nonexistent courtship plans. he stands a bit dumbfounded in the doorframe (not too dissimilar when he first met you) when you scoot back into your place, most likely jumping straight back to work in order to prep food and spruce up your home to take him as a guest.

an hour. noa decides that it’s enough time for him to groom himself a bit too. jump in the shower, douse himself with a nice perfume, pick out a casual yet still suave outfit. if time allows, he’d even run down to a nearby store to buy a bouquet of flowers. a nice little thank you present for the meal, but undoubtedly enough of an ambiguous gift to give it a slight romantic tinge.

noa was going to milk this opportunity. you had thrown him the perfect chance, and noa knew that once he fixated on something, he would see it through.

to his success, all things willing.

…

…

…

everything about your house suited you. your apartment complex wasn’t decorated too lavishly, yet it wasn’t barebones either. noa smiles when he sees all the pictures of your son you have framed against the walls, and your shelves are stuffed with picture books and other memorabilia of the toddler.

you had expertly put honoré to bed before noa had came around, and when he knocked on your door an hour later, you had buried your face in your hands and laughed like a schoolgirl that had been confessed to when he presented you with a bouquet of beautifully prepared calla lilies.

“you shouldn’t have!” you had smacked his arm playfully, but noa felt his chest swell with pride when you rifled through your closet to find a makeshift vase to place the flowers in. 

dinner had been delightful. noa had eagerly wolfed down whatever food you served him, and you were more than happy to prattle on to him about how honoré had recently developed an affinity for blueberries and that you were debating between buying him legos or a toy truck.

of course, the wine flowed generously throughout too. you had admitted that you had saved the red wine for a long time, never having a reason to drink it since your hands were full with a baby and not really wanting to crack a whole bottle open just for yourself. noa could tell you were enjoying the drink, swirling the wine glass around rhythmically as the drink slowly stained your plump lips a deep shade of maroon.

how lovely. noa wondered if it would smear if he were to kiss you.

letting you chatter on without stopping you let him extrapolate a lot that he wouldn’t have known otherwise. it didn’t take too many sips to get you a little tipsy, and with a few questions to ease you up, you were practically an open book.

you had gotten pregnant with your son a few years back, and when you approached honoré’s dad with the news, the sleazebag had completely vanished from your life. as awful as it sounds, noa celebrates inwardly when he hears that you’re single. you admitted that you were lucky enough to have good friends and a somewhat stable support system who took care of you through your pregnancy, and you had honoré without too many complications. but one thing led to another, and you ended up moving here.

“i work remotely,” you murmur, stealing another mouthful of red wine. “it’s… not much, but it’s enough to provide for me and my little boy. i get to pamper him a fair amount, and working from home means that i don’t need to worry about a babysitter! it won’t be too long until i can send him to school, and at that point, i can probably look for a better paying job that i can commute to.”

“i see. if i’m ever around, i wouldn’t mind looking after honoré. you already have a lot on your plate, and if there’s anything i can do to ease the load…,” noa trails off. you sigh dreamily, shaking your head.

“oh, i couldn’t ask you to do that. but i really appreciate the offer.” you glance towards the nursery. “honoré has taken a liking to you though. he gets so excited whenever he sees you!”

the tension between you two is electric. noa feels like his heart is about to give out on him, and if the tension mounting in his stomach tells him anything, it’s that he should be thankful for having the foresight to wear loose pants. your house smells like you: sweet, light, a perfect aphrodisiac for the starved man.

this is the closest he’s ever been to you, the longest he’s ever talked to you. you keep batting your eyelashes at him, looking up at him with such pretty, tipsy eyes. maybe it’s the alcohol talking for the both of you, but noa finds it hard to even swallow. he sips tentatively at his own wine glass. his mouth keeps drying up, and he’s thankful that you’re so good at filling up his silence with your own little chit chat. 

“if you don’t mind me…,” you start. you peek at him, and he stares back at you with his sharp golden eyes. “what do you do for a living, noel?”

“me…?” panic stabs at him for a moment. 

should he be honest with you? you didn’t recognize his name when he introduced himself, so it was clear that you had no idea that the man right next to you was quite literally the world’s best striker. would that change the way you viewed him? would you be scared? repulsed? would you talk to him again if you knew?

“sorry-,” you’re quick to apologize. “that was too much of me. you really don’t have to answer me. that was entirely my bad.”

“no, i don’t mind.” he owes you that much. you had been nothing but kind and welcoming towards him, and all he did in return was go insane with desire. the very least he could do was come clean about who he truly was.

he shifts in his seat, and noa braces himself for the worst. “i’m a professional soccer player.”

you blink at him. “r-really? wait, that’s kinda cool! do you play for a local league or something?”

“i play as a striker for bastard munchen. it’s a german team. they’re one of europe’s most prestigious leagues, and they’ve sent players to the world cup.” his grip on his wineglass tightens just a tad bit. “i’ve played in the world cup.”

your jaw drops. “oh my god. you’re not joking with me, are you?”

he risks meeting your eyes. “do i look like the kind of man to joke around?”

you cover your mouth with your hand, unable to look him in the face. “oh my god… ohhhh my god…! i’m so sorry! i’ve been referring to you so casually, and- and-”

he raises a hand, and he shushes you. “what are you apologizing for? you’ve done nothing wrong. you’ve always treated me kindly. i don’t see why knowing my job would change anything between us. we’re still neighbors. and at this point, we’re friends as well, I'd hope.”

he sees you swallow back a sigh, and you take a deep breath and nod. “right. yes. this doesn’t change anything… it’s still a lot to just- to just take in, you know?”

“you take the time you need. and if interacting with me becomes too much, then i understand. the last thing i’d like to do is make you uncomfortable.” his heart wrenches painfully inside of his chest at the thought of no longer being able to talk to you. but you’d find out sooner or later, and if his cover was going to be blown, noa would prefer doing it on his own terms. 

“can i ask you another question then?” you ask with your mousy voice.

“go ahead.” 

“why do you live here then?” you hiccup. “shouldn’t a super talented soccer player like you live in a big mansion?”

“i could. but i don’t particularly want to.” noa notices that you’re working up the courage to look him in the face again. his stomach twists once more, the sight of your pretty face all conflicted throwing his brain into turmoil again. he clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm to bring himself back to the same plane of reality that you were on. “i’ve never been interested in a flashy life. i prefer living quietly and doing as i’m told.”

“that does sound like you,” you hum in agreement. “well, as surprising as it is, i’m glad to have someone like you for my neighbor. and i promise i’m not saying it just because i know that you’re a professional athlete now!”

you giggle brightly, your lips curving to match the rim of your wine glass. you down the remaining liquid, giving a soft smack of your mouth to fully savor the notes. noa clenches his jaw visibly, and his nails threaten to break the thick skin of his palms.

you’re tempting him. you’re driving him insane. your lips are dyed and pretty, and noa has been staring at them all evening. his throat feels dry and heavy, and he forces the arousal pooling in his crotch to calm down.

he can’t be like this right in front of you. it was one thing to act like an immoral, debauched man in private, but it was another to be unable to control himself in front of you. he was better than this. he knew he was.

but the heart wants what it wants. and there was nothing more that noa wanted than to force you to your knees, to whip his hardening cock out of his pants and smack your slutty wine-stained lips with the tip. he’d force you to open up and stretch that cute mouth of yours around his girth, watch you struggle to take him into your mouth and whimper all over his cock. knowing you, you’d beg him to be gentle with you, to be quiet so that you wouldn’t wake up the slumbering angel in the next room over, and noa would have to fight every animalistic instinct in him to not fuck you until you’d be wailing the house down.

“is everything alright, noel?” you break him out of your thoughts. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before he faces you. he can’t stop the heat from flooding his face, but he’s quick to decide that he’d simply blame it on the alcohol.

he couldn’t keep doing this forever. something or other would give, and the last thing noa would want would be to do some unforgivable or stupid. it was torture, to have his body say one thing and his mind another, especially when you were quite literally within arm’s reach.

“i’m alright. you don’t need to worry about me. i can take care of myself,” he promises. you lean in closer, enough so that noa can feel your warm breath trickling across his neck. his heart threatens to stop, and he looks at you with hesitant eyes. 

“are you sure?” your hand lands on his thigh, squeezing him gently.

oh. so that’s how things were going to be. what a goddamn minx you were, doing something like this with such disgustingly innocent intent. 

“yes. i’m fine,” he presses his lips into a thin line. “would you mind passing me the wine bottle? i’ll pour us another glass, if you don’t mind…”

…

…

…

your mouth tastes delicious, like fresh wine and everything he had wanted to do to you since forever. your face is flushed, and your eyes are hazy, barely meeting his as you struggle to keep up with him through your drunken state.

“n-noel-!” you squeak out. his heavy body weighs you down, keeping you trapped between him and your squeaky bed. things are a blur, even for him. 

one moment he’s pouring you more wine, and the next, the two of you are stumbling into your room, where he tosses you down onto the mattress like you’re a ragdoll.

“tell me you want it.” he rolls his clothed hips into yours, and you recoil into the bed with a choked whine. the sound goes straight to his dick. god, how long had he wanted to hear that? to hear the woman he had coveted for so long moaning underneath him?

you shake against his larger form. “w-want it- i want it, noel-“

“you want me to fuck you? you want your next-door-neighbor to fuck you?” he whispers. you shut your eyes as he kisses up your neck, his hands gripping your waist as his lips capture your earlobe. he sucks, his tongue lapping at your soft skin.

his imagination has nothing on how you actually feel in his hands. even through your clothes, he has no issues palming at your figure. you breathe out his name as his palms feel your curves, his fingertips dancing with the hem of your clothes.

you nod wantonly, not once fighting off his advances. “yes! yes, i want it- want you to fuck me- want my next-door-neighbor to have sex with me!”

“good girl,” he exhales. your breathing shallows as he coaxes your shirt over your chest and head, and you shudder as his eyes land all over your stomach and breasts.

your bra struggles to hold onto your chest, your full breasts pooling over the edge. you yelp when he yanks at your bra, snapping it off of you and letting your chest tumble out fully in front of him.

you instinctively try to cover yourself up with your arms, and noa grabs your wrists and wrenches them off of your chest. you mewl when the air nips at your nipples, causing them to perk up slightly.

“don’t you dare think about hiding yourself from me,” noa whispers. “you have no way of getting yourself out of this.”

you rub your thighs together, your cunt throbbing. when was the last time you had done this? you hadn’t had sex in years, not when you had your hands full with a baby and keeping yourself afloat. you were a mom, for fuck’s sake, with a whole baby to watch out for, yet here you were, pinned down underneath noel noa while he grinded his boner into your thighs.

his hands latch onto your chest, and his palms grope at your fat tits slowly. you moan out breathlessly when his calloused palms tease at your nipples, sending a jolt of arousal into your stomach. a wet patch forms in your panties, horribly turned on just from having your boobs squeezed a few times.

“god, you have no clue what your body does to me,” noa rasps. “do you have any idea how much i’ve dreamt about this? how much i wanted to touch those slutty tits of yours? look at you—your body was practically made to be fucked.”

your core twists painfully, and his fingertips pinch tentatively at your nipples.

“ah-! ahhh- noel-,” you buck your hips unconsciously, arching your back as he tugs at your chest. it stings, but it feels so good. even with the wine muddying your thoughts, your body responds to every little bit of attention noel showers onto you. you didn’t know you had it in you to be this lewd or to be this responsive. 

you want more. it had been far too long since anyone showed you any love like this.

he slaps your tits before bringing his hands down to your pants, expertly undoing the zipper and hooking his fingers around the waistline. you let him wiggle your clothes over your hips and legs, leaving you almost entirely naked save for your drenched panties. it feels so terribly lewd, to lay there all bare for a man, even if you two haven’t technically done anything.

his hands squeeze possessively at your thighs. “i wanted to fuck you ever since the first time i saw you. ever since you told me your name, since your son started calling me dad. that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? if i became his dad?”

your chest tightens, and you bite back another lewd moan. noa ducks his head down and nips at your thighs with his teeth, and you flinch into his chest. 

“you said it yourself. your little boy loves me,” noa murmurs. his tongue laps over his teeth marks, and you suck in a breath. your pussy twitches, clenching around nothing. your body wants more, wants to feel more noa more, wants him to take over your body and make you his. “nothing would make him happier than his beloved mommy to have a dad by her side.”

his mouth heads upwards, and he uses his strong hands to pry your shaking legs apart. you whimper, already feeling so exposed to the bigger man despite still having your panties on. he leans back, but his fingers ghost over your crotch. two fingers press up right against your pussy, and he rubs them up and down your covered slit. 

his fingertips are damp. you’re obscenely wet, and watching you struggle to control yourself has noa’s cock straining for its life in his pants.

“or even better,” noa grabs at the waistband of your panties, “daddy fucks mommy pregnant and gives him a younger sibling that he can dote on.”

you throw your head back against your pillow. your mind spins with arousal and alcohol, and noa slips your panties off without any resistance. a strand of slick sticks to the crotch of your underwear, and noa’s finally rewarded with the sight of your bare pussy. he can see your hole fluttering and twitching on itself, desperate to be stuffed and stretched out with something.

god. your body is so attractive to him. he’s never wanted to fuck someone more in his life. with your full hips and soft stomach, motherhood has mellowed out and accentuated you into a woman noa just couldn’t resist.

he thinks he’s going to stop breathing. 

“d-don’t look too hard-,” you stammer out. your body heats up and flushed at how intently noa’s staring at your defenseless cunt, knowing that your body’s begging to be penetrated and fucked.

“i’ll be so good to you,” noa vows. you’re frozen on the sheets, and noa nearly shreds the clothes off of him. your voice catches in the back of your throat when you see his toned chest and abs, the silhouette of the soccer player resembling more of a greek god than the man you had always known as your neighbor.

he pulls his pants down, and when he shoves his boxers off, you can’t help but gasp “oh!” at how big his cock is. he’s obscenely thick and long, and your pussy is both parts scared and aroused at the sheer size. god—you just know that he would stretch your walls out deliciously. his tip smacks his abs, and prominent veins run all along his length.

“you’re so big…,” you eke out. “it’s been so long since i had sex… i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“i’ll make it fit.” noa rests his hands on top of your knees. “do you want me to prep you?”

you nod. “yes please…”

he reaches over and grabs your hips, and before you can fully register what’s happening, noa hoists your hips up into the air. you give a loud cry, and the bed creaks underneath you as noa ducks his head. his grip on you is firm, and his fingers press into your hips as he brings your drooling cunt to his mouth.

noa’s tongue circles your throbbing clit. your hands fly up to your pillow, gripping at the plush material. jolts of electricity shoot up your core, and your stomach twists with pleasure. your thighs subconsciously try to shut, but noa curves his hands to keep them spread open.

“nngh…! wait, noel, hold on-,” you sob. you grip your pillow, clamping your teeth shut as noa teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. your hips shake as you grind up into his mouth, each wave of stimulation making your pussy drool and throb for more. “ah- be gentle with me…!”

be gentle with you? dear lord, noa sucking on your clit like a starved man was him being gentle with you. he had jerked himself off countless times fantasizing about having you naked and in his arms like this, and it took everything in him not to break that dripping cunt of yours in half with his dick. his cock twitches and protests when noa ignores his own arousal, too preoccupied in trying to force an orgasm out of you.

you taste so sweet on his tongue. you mewl out his name over and over, and your voice sounds like literal honey to his ears. one of his hands snakes down from your hips, and while noa swirls his tongue around your nub, he circles your pulsing hole with a finger. he could die right there and then, and noa would die a happy man. drowning in your honeyed cunt, losing himself to the tantalizing sensation of pleasuring you like any devoted man would. 

“oh! oh god, noel-” your pussy can’t stop leaking with slick as noa keeps teasing you. he slips a finger in without much resistance, and your walls eagerly latch onto him. noa groans against your cunt when he feels your wall twist and clench around his finger, greedily sucking him in. 

god, noa thinks he’s going to go insane. his cock wants nothing more than to bury itself into your sweet pussy, and feeling you twitch and clamp up on his finger makes his dick grow hungrier. his arousal is almost impossible to ignore, yet noa continues to swallow and lap at your core while he fingers you slowly.

he slides in another finger, thrusting in and out of you carefully. you buck your hips, crying out so prettily for him. noa curls his fingers and presses his fingertips all inside your pussy, and he stays vigilant in looking for that sweet spot that would completely unravel you.

“fuck-! fuck, wait- please, i-i can’t-!” you plead. your pussy tightens up around his knuckles dangerously, and noa fucks his fingers up into the spot that made you clench up and mewl so loudly. you’re already moaning and trembling this much just from being fucked on two fingers and having your clit sucked. noa can’t get enough of the way your body twists and reacts to everything he gives you. 

a third finger prods at your hole, as if to ask if you’re ready. you inhale shakily as noa pushes another knuckle into you. 

“fuck…!” you’re immediately clenching up, and your pussy’s walls are rubbing all against his fingers greedily. you’re nearly in tears, just from being fingered, and noa fights his desire to break you. “it feels so good- you feel so good, noel…!”

he thrusts his fingers into you, and you reel visibly. he can tell from the way your pussy has been twitching and gushing all around him that you’re close, stretched to your limit just from three fingers. he doubles down on flicking his tongue all over your clit: letting you grind your hips down greedily against the broad of his tongue. your body shakes, and you can’t stop sobbing. 

you’re almost there. you both know you’re almost there. noa focuses himself on pleasuring you fully, and he roughly fucks his fingers into you and curls his knuckles into your g-spot without any mercy.

“noel-!”

your cunt squeezes his fingers for dear life, and noa latches himself onto your clit as you nearly wrench yourself out of his grasp. heat shreds your body, and the tightening in your stomach snaps violently as you cum shamelessly all over noa’s hands and mouth. you cry out his name loudly again, your normally gentle voice sounding so lewd and desperate as your slick gushes all over his chin and palm.

“fuck…! cumming- i’m cumming, noel…!” your body twists in his hands, and noa continues to stimulate your cunt until you’re babbling incoherent noises. he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, feeling your pussy try to cling to his knuckles before he lets you down properly onto the bed again. you’re struggling to catch your breath, your wide eyes all hazy and drunken as you suck in shaky breaths.

noa has no issue swallowing down your cum. he sucks your juices off of his fingers, cleaning up his mouth and chin before he scoots closer to you. you let out such a pathetic moan when he spreads your legs out again, your body too pliant and weak to offer any resistance. the sight of your obviously overstimulated and squirt-slicked cunt makes some sick monster in him swell with pride.

he did that. he made you cum.

he grips his long-ignored and fully engorged cock, and he smacks it against your cunt lightly. you flinch, your hole flaring up as he rubs his dick up and down your slick pussy lips. 

“are you doing alright?” noa asks. his hands grab your hips, and your heart flutters as he rubs soothing circles into your skin. you nod weakly.

“yeah- i can do it,” you promise. you glance up at him with such pretty fluttering eyes, remnants of tears clinging to your lashes as you swallow. “i want you in me… i want your cock in me, please…”

“alright. deep breath. relax for me,” he commands. you nod again, and you shakily inhale and try to loosen your muscles up. 

it immediately burns when he slides into you. you grit your teeth, trying your hardest to keep your pussy relaxed as his thick cock invades your pussy and stretches your walls out to its limits. noa grips your hips tightly, and he groans lowly when he feels you clamping up around his dick.

“fucking hell-,” he breathes out. “you’re so fucking tight-”

“t-too big-” hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “oh god, you’re going to break me!”

your pussy sucks him in and rubs all around his cock in a way that makes noa see stars. you’re so soft and tight, clinging and drooling all over his dick while his girth stretches and flexes your walls out. he keeps pushing past the resistance until he bottoms out, his balls resting heavy on top of your ass. you choke and gasp as he pushes your hips back even further, and he hovers over you, keeping you trapped underneath his thick legs.

a mating press. 

“listen to me now,” he says. “i’m going to fuck you pregnant. i’m gonna fuck this pussy of yours till you’re pregnant again, and i’m going to give that little boy of yours a sibling of his own. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? have a baby of our own and form a perfect family…”

your pussy squeezes involuntarily, and even without you saying anything, he knows you’re turned on at the thought of being bred by him. a loud moan bubbles up in your chest as he slides his monstrous cock out of you before roughly slamming his hips down, forcing his entire length back into your tight cunt.

you barely choke back a scream. his cock has filled out every single bit of your hole, leaving you no room to comfortably take him. you swear that his tip prods dangerously at your womb, threatening to force it open so that he can dump as much of his cum into you as he wants.

oh god, you’re fucked. you’re having raw sex with your hot neighbor, and he’s talking about fucking his own child into you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “can’t believe you had a whole baby with this pussy with how goddamn tight you are-”

you shudder as he thrusts in and out of you. every time he pistons his hips, he doesn’t waste a single movement. none of his thrusts are shallow; each one pumps deep and directly into your womb, clearly with the sole intent of getting you pregnant.

“haven’t had sex with anyone since- since i got pregnant with honoré,” you manage out. “fuck, fuck- you’re going too deep!”

irritation irks him in at the thought of some bastard getting to fuck you first, at the thought of another man getting to fuck that slutty pussy of yours. what kind of madman would even dream of letting you go, let alone throw you out so cruelly into the world? if he could, noa would keep you at home and lavish you with all the attention and love you could ever want. he’d pamper you, treat you like the goddess you are, make sure you know your worth and more. he can imagine it: buying you pretty clothes, taking you out to expensive dinners, spoiling honoré until the boy’s world is flipped upside down by his indulgent stepfather. 

but when noa glances down to see you all spread out and submissive for him, your hole eagerly taking his cock and getting ready to be stuffed with his cum, he can’t help but gloat slightly. he’s the one who has you now, the one who’s going to properly sweep you off your feet, the one who’s going to make you his.

“don’t lose yourself just yet. i know you can take it.” he fucks his dick into you once more, and you moan, unable to stop the arousal coiling up in your core. he wants to make sure you feel it, makes sure you feel every inch and ridge of his cock rubbing against your insides. he doesn’t know when the last time you had dick was, and neither does he particularly care, but he wants your body to know that his dick is the best you’ll ever have. “get used to how it feels. i’m going to make you my wife—gonna give you a family of our own. that’d be nice, yeah? to have someone that can support you? so you’re not all alone with just your son?”

you can’t help but nod, your pussy quivering at the thought. you know you’re not thinking straight, not when wine stains your thoughts and your body’s overrun with lust. but for some reason, thinking about noa wifing you up, taking you to be his cute little housewife while he fucks his kids into you, chasing after honoré and whatever other babies he’s going to put in you, finally having someone kind and reliable to depend on… 

you want it. you want it so bad.

your cunt makes it obvious from how much you’re clenching up around him, unconsciously milking his cock.

“you like that? you like the thought of getting married to me and having my babies?” noa eggs on. 

“don’t tease me like that-,” you protest. you can barely keep up with everything happening around you. his cock keeps stretching you out, rubbing all over your slick walls and sending waves of heat up your core. arousal floods your gut, and all you can care about is how good it feels to have sex, to finally let loose and forget about all the worries in the world, to lose yourself to a man who wants nothing more than to be good to you.

“tell me it feels good. tell me you want it.” noa’s fingers dig into your thighs. your clit throbs, and you bring a hand to your crotch to rub at it frantically. you’re sniffling and sobbing pathetically underneath the pro player, already this cock-drunk and overwhelmed just from having cum on his mouth once. 

“want it-,” you obediently repeat. heat floods your face and neck. he’s so possessive, but it turns you on so much. “want you so bad- want you to fuck me-”

“is that all?” his hips pound into you mercilessly, and you groan. his balls slap against your ass every time he fucks his cock into you, a constant reminder that you’re about to be bred by him. 

“it’s embarrassing to say…” you can’t meet his eyes. noa hums disapprovingly, and dread pools in your chest when he draws his hips back all the way, until just the tip remains buried inside your indecent hole. “what are you doing…?”

you instantly turn to look at him, horror flashing across your face when you choke out, “n-noel, hold on, you can’t-!”

he slams himself all the way into you. you shriek, your core immediately burning at the ruthless stretch. his cock prods at your womb brutally, and a mix of pain and unbridled pleasure rips at your body. you’re instantaneously reduced to a crying mess, unable to form words as noa breaks your pussy. you swear you’re going to break into pieces, body left completely to the man’s mercy. he keeps drawing his hips back like that, his cock reveling in the feeling of being completely enveloped by your welcoming hole.

the room echoes with your cries, the desperate ah- ah- ah-! noises from you spurring him on to keep fucking you like a bull in heat. as much as he loves you, cherishes you, wants to keep you by his side, the sex is animalistic and unforgiving. your body feels bruised and battered as he bullies his length into you over and over again, stretching and molding your insides to adjust to his massively unfair size.

“say it!” noa’s voice doesn’t waver even once. “say it properly, or i’m not stopping until you pass out.”

you open and close your mouth dumbly, your mind too fogged up to think properly. you endeavor and push through, pursing your lips to form the words that noa has wanted to hear since the beginning. “w-wanna have sex with you more! wanna be yours- wanna be your wife-! wanna get m-married to you and- and have your babies!”

“yeah?” the blond man repeats. “you want me to be your husband? you want me to be honoré’s stepdaddy? you want me to father the rest of your kids?”

the dirty talk arouses you in a way you didn’t even realize was possible. you throw your head back, your back fully arched. you’re being so loud, too loud, and while you knew you should be quiet and good for your son’s sake, you can’t help but shamelessly beg for the man on top of you to fold you in half and fuck you pregnant until you’re nothing more than a stupid breeding bitch for your evidently soon-to-be husband. 

“yes…!” you moan wantonly. “i want it all!”

he’s dangerously close. so are you, he can feel that much. you babble on and on about how you want him, how you want him to make you his, how you’ll be anything he wants you to be. what a depraved woman, he muses to himself, so desperate for love that you’d throw yourself at him once he gives you an opportunity to. he thinks it's awfully ironic, knowing that he did the same to you, and he’s glad that he has nothing but relatively good intentions.

minus the fact that he wants to get you pregnant.

his cock throbs and threatens to spill his cum into you. you’re teetering on the edge, aroused beyond your own comprehension by the sex and dirty talk, your sticky fingers playing with your abused clit. his hands reach for your tits, groping your sensitive breasts again.

he can’t wait to see you pregnant. your pretty chest, swollen up with milk for his baby, and your hips full and rounded out. your soft belly is stretched out, and you practically glow with warmth. he knows you’d be a good mother—he knows you’re a good mother. you dote on your son with so much love in your heart, and he knows you’d do anything to make sure that your family stays happy and healthy.

his heart swells. 

“fuck-” he pumps his dick in and out of you at such an inhumanly fast pace. your pussy won’t stop coiling all around him, making sure to milk him for all he’s worth and intoxicating him endlessly. noa knows he hasn’t had that much to drink during dinner, but the sensation of fucking into your warm hole makes him feel like he’s had one sip too many. “gonna cum, love- gonna cum inside you and make you my wife…”

“do it-!” you encourage him. your voice is strained and high-pitched, and your thighs ache with the pressure of having him breeding you in such a demanding position. but he’s so deep in you, touching you in places you didn’t even know was possible, and the pleasure makes your mind go blank. “cum in me- please, cum inside me, noel!”

how can he refuse? you’re begging for him, asking him with such doe-like eyes and offering up that tempting body of yours. 

it’s his turn to beg. “stay with me.”

you let out a loud squeal as he draws his heavy hips back one last time. your hole contracts around him, your desperate walls trying to drag him back inside, and he slams down into you as far as he can go. he knows he’s going to be hooked on your pussy, hooked on your body and the way it feels like you were made just to take his cock and get pregnant with his babies, hooked on all the ways he’s craved you with such an insatiable appetite since he’s laid eyes on you. 

he lets himself go. with all the lust in his heart, enough to rival the sheer amount of love he has for his sweet, sweet neighbor.

he’s never cum this hard before. his balls tighten up painfully as he empties himself out inside of your cunt, and you moan out his name when you feel him pulsing inside your core. noa clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth together as the rush of his orgasm possesses him. you’re too much for him: too loving, too ready, too perfect, and noa would rather be damned than let you escape him.

it hurts to thrust into you so quickly, not having fully even finished riding out his climax, but he’s determined to shove as much of his semen into you. he needs you full, needs to know that you’ll be knocked up with his baby, and he uses his cock to force ropes of his hot cum into every inch of your womb.

your core tightens and twitches when you feel him cumming inside of you, all of the tension building up coming to a standstill in that moment. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- noel, i’m- i’m cumming- i’m cumming, i’m gonna cum- noel…!”

your cunt wrings his cock, gripping onto his length furiously. noa has to double down, brace himself for the way your body refuses to let him go, as you cry loudly and cum all over him. your pussy keeps contracting and squeezing, your second orgasm immediately setting your nerves on fire and taking complete control of your senses. he can tell you’re instantly overwhelmed, your breathing turning irregular as you pant out for air, a slick ring of ivory froth forming at the base of his cock.

“s-so good-,” you slur out, your words melting into one another. you shudder when noa pulls out of you, whining in slight protest at the sudden feeling of emptiness overtaking your warm pussy. a strand of milky cum follows his dick before breaking, and like a broken dam, a rivulet of semen leaks out of you and drips down. it follows the curve of your ass before beading momentarily on the sheets, creating a pool of cum underneath you.

even noa didn’t realize he came that much. he blames it entirely on his intent to breed you.

he sits down wordlessly by your side, the two of you laying in the darkness in silence as you catch your breaths. noa debates getting up to fetch you some water or a towel, but before he can, you grab at his wrist and coax him back to your side.

“you asked me to stay with you,” you whisper. you sound so hushed, but noa would have to be an idiot not to pick up on the wavering tinges of longing in your words. “don’t go just yet… stay with me.”

he wipes some of the sweat off of your forehead, tucking some loose hairs behind your ear. he ducks his head down to kiss your face, just like how proper lovers would. you smile so brightly, despite your body still aching from the number noa just did to you. you’re an angel sent from heaven, this much noa is sure of. he has never been one to believe that sincerely in abstract concepts like soulmates and fate, but when he cups your face and rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheeks or your eyelids, he gets it. he truly does. 

“don’t worry.” his voice is calming, and despite the fatigue ebbing over you in relentless waves, you can hear him loud and clear. “i’m not going anywhere.”

…

…

…

you’re fast asleep. noa’s aware that he should be asleep too, the clock ticking into the long and lonely stretches of early morning as he keeps you tucked into his chest. a firm arm holds you close to his heart, and your body slots against his like you were made to be held by him.

a missed call notification from his manager rests on his homescreen. he doesn’t want to pick up just yet. he doesn’t want to return to the real world, to his responsibilities, to be away from you.

a text message from his manager pops up, and he scans the preview with his usual eagle-like eyes.

‘sorry for calling you so late, noa. hope you’ve been doing well,’ his manager writes. ‘unfortunately, it looks like you’re going to have the next few months off as well. some material shipments got delayed, and without it, the stadium won’t be completed for a little while longer. your instructions are the same as last time: keep up with your exercise regime and do as your club tells you. other than that, you’re free to do as you want.’

relief floods noa’s weary body. he turns his phone over, blocking off the light before he pulls you to his chest even tighter. burying his nose into your hair, he holds you against his beating heart. thump-thump, your heartbeats syncopate to one another, and noa already knows he’s going to spend his precious time dedicating himself wholly to you and your happiness.

what he doesn’t see is the next text from his manager. not that it matters, noa has everything he could possibly want right now.

‘you sure are one lucky man,’ it reads. ‘make sure to take some time for yourself and relax, away from sports. breaks like these are rare.'

'you know what they say, noa. there really is no place like home.’

[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

[matildaanymore]

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!

[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).

[deadvnstudios]

oh no! i got into a argument with the romanceables and they said something so stupid that upset me! how do they apologize? :3

"H-hey. Can you just... come to my room tonight? I… I have something I want to show you."

Upon entering Tempest's room later that evening, you're immediately struck by its uncharacteristic cleanliness and the candles meticulously arranged along his shelves. They cast a warm glow over Tempest, seated on his bed with legs crossed, cradling a guitar in his lap. He proceeds to serenade you with a song, personally composed for you, by him. The performance is brief, encompassing only a single verse, and as the final note fades, Tempest asks you to forgive him.

"Oopsy-daisy, baby's breath. Iris-pectfully apologize. Please forget-me-not… and uhm… Look. Bad puns aside, what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry for upsetting you."

The morning after your fight, you find Vein lingering outside your room, a vibrant bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hands. Before you can react, the flowers are crumpled against your chest in a crushing embrace as Vein pulls you into a whirlwind hug. The world blurs as she spins you round and round, leaving you with only two choices:

a) vomit from dizziness or

b) accept her sincerest apology

"Fine, I messed up. Happy? Now pick your apology – but you only get one, got it?"

Insisting that you would be unable to sleep until she apologized, Mary storms into your room in the dead of night, jarring you from sleep. Taking advantage of your grogginess, she pins you to your bed and fans out the thin, crumpled slices of paper clutched in her hand. She orders you to select one. On each slip of paper, a different IOU is written:

IOU a full day of doing whatever the hell you want to do

IOU a movie night where we watch all of your favorite trash movies

IOU a letter detailing all of your least annoying traits

IOU a homemade dinner of your choosing (...but cooked by Noel, he owes me)

"Darling dearest, how much longer will you leave me to linger in the hall? My night will be frigid, unbearably bothersome as I shiver on my lonesome without you by my side….could you find it in your heart to forgive a fool? At least one foolishly in love?”

You sigh as Mona continues to dramatically plead at your bedroom door, talons tapping incessantly against the wood as her anxieties begin to emerge. As you finally open the door, she rushes in and nearly tackles you to the ground. Trapped within her hold she noisily smooches over the entirety of your face, cradling you like you’re something precious. Irreplaceable. You two will have a serious talk in the morning, but you’ll spend the rest of the night tangled together, cuddling under the sheets as she whispers into your ear every reason she fell for you to begin with.

“Beloved, the affliction of affection ails me; my world becoming insipid and dull in your absence. In having wounded you, I have wounded myself. I will eagerly bleed my heart dry in repentance if it can’t beat beside yours. I would give you all of myself to see you smile at me once more. Please, return to me tomorrow. I miss you.”

The note Sorin slipped under your door is littered with a stray tear mark here and there. Your heart aches as the the crooked letters, scribbled on hurriedly, bleed across the page from the dampness. When you go to find him the next morning, Sorin eagerly intertwines their fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles as they beg for your pardon and your company. The two of you plan to take a nap in the sunlit garden, but you have to silence Sorin with a kiss as he prattles on, praising your character.

”Wait…I…please. Hear me out.”

Noel heaves against the doorframe, one arm holding open the door you’d planned to shove close. Though his ears burn in shame, he requests that you join him that evening for dinner. In his room. Alone. When you arrive you’re taken aback by the makeshift candlelit dinner set up on a picnic blanket on the floor. Noel sheepishly lights a candle, letting you know that he’s prepared your favorite. He doesn’t want to talk while the two of you are hangry.

[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

[imaginesbymonika]

From the dining table | Part 3

Pairing: Damon Albarn × Gallagher! Reader

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

Read Part 2

(1995)

Damon hurries out of the venue. It’s simply too hot and packed in there. Yeah, they won a bunch of awards, yes he’s appreciative, please stop asking him about it. A shaky sigh leaves his lips once he finally steps outside the night. He leans against the now-closed exit door and shuts his eyes in happiness.

The cold air feels good on his sweaty skin. His hand automatically moves down to his jeans and he takes out a pack of cigarettes. Finally, a moment of peace and quiet.

However, that is cut short when he hears how someone next to him chuckles. His head twists instantly and he almost drops the cigarette when he once again meets eyes with Y/N. She stares at him before her eyes move down to his (now) trembling hands. They linger on them for a couple of seconds before they shift back up to his face. Damon swallows thickly.

He feels like prey as he watches how she brings her cigarette back up to her red-painted lips. She smokes reds, of course? Damon looks down on his blue cigarettes and lets out a sigh. He somehow feels less cool now.

„Need fire?“

He instantly looks back up at her. She smiles at him while holding out a small metal item. There’s hesitation flashing up in his eyes. „Come on. I don’t bite.“ Damon wasn’t too sure about that. How could someone, who’s this much younger than him be so intimidating?

„Thanks.“, he eventually says and reaches for the lighter. „You’re very welcome.“, she virtually purred.

He takes a very deep breath before looking at her again through his lashes:“ Didn’t know you could talk.“ She laughs and he wants to hear it again immediately. He stares at her and never wants to stops

(2024)

He packed his bags the same night. He doesn’t really know why, considering how he has no idea how she’s going to react when she sees him again. It’s been so long. What if she doesn’t recognize him anymore? What if she sends him away again?

The three-hour drive was primarily spent in silence. He lost count of how many times he turned the radio on and off. “Well, when you see her tell her I said hi.“, was the last thing Noel told him before he hung up, maybe Damon should begin with that.

“Your brother says hi, and I never stopped thinking about you.“ No, he couldn’t say that. „Your brother says hi and I still write all my songs about you in one way or another.“ Damon shakes his head as if he attempts to make his thoughts fall out of it, while he takes a right turn.

It makes sense to him that she moved to the seaside, he recalls how they used to talk about it late at night. She used to say that one day when she’s old she wants to keep three dogs and two cats, and maybe if she’s married she and her husband will always be sitting in their backyard; with a clear view of the ocean ahead.

Damon would always glance at Y/N‘s side profile and hope to be the husband in her story one day. He never said that out loud…obviously. He always yearned for more, even though he understood he wouldn’t get it- at least not from her.

The sun rises and he puts on a pair a sunglasses.

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

---

It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

“Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

Part 6

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