#oasis x you

[leaawrites]

Study Session

Liam Galagher x fem!reader

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

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

Wordcount: 2.2k

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘right,” his voice went even quieter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to get her full attention on him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to be though.”

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

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

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

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

“No, forget it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t be serious, could he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t be fucking serious.

[sanfangzhu]

📑The games appearing inside (in clockwise order)📑

▸the kid at the back ▸Mushroom Oasis ▸文字化化 ▸14 Days With You ▸A DOUBLE SIDED MIRROR ▸Our Life Beginnings & Always ▸Where Winter Crows Go ▸Duality ▸Error143 ▸A Date with Death ▸MonsterxMediator

Thank you very much for the existence of these games; they have healed my soul (´-ωก`)

[talkbycolor]

MC's kindergarden . . . ↷

Yanderes as toddlers AU

GN!Reader as a teacher who doesnt get paid enough for this.

CW: just a bunch of weird kids wanting to marry their teacher, keep scrolling

Sunny Day Jack.

the golden child, the angel of the classroom, he is a little devil in disguise, getting his classmates into trouble so that his teacher thinks he is the best

he looks like a mini teacher, he teaches colors to his classmates and shares everything (except the teacher)

uses guilt to convince his teacher, but with that little face and red cheeks, who wouldn't fall for it?

a very intelligent child but he is selfish, he learned to steal cookies from the kitchen and has not told anyone

he gives part of his lunch to his teacher, he likes to eat and sit next to him, he is the child who gives bouquets of flowers picked from the playground (MC already scolded him so he should look for other places to get flowers)

MC doesn't usually scold him often since he manipulates and makes kicked puppy eyes to get his way, a mini bastard

John Doe.

probably autistic and socially anxious child, very attached to MC, they must always accompany him to go to the bathroom, he eats in the classroom during recess time while MC teacher accompanies him

this is the child you have to make sure doesn't go through the trash or eat the crayons

he is actually a very sweet boy, MC usually combs his hair before school so it doesn't bother him, for some reason Doe always has it tangled and dirty

he can't count to 10 with his hands, poor thing

cat-like affection, gives insects or interesting things he found on the playground to his teacher

when the children play house, he is the mascot

Alan Orion.

boy obsessed with outer space, his lunch box and clothes are full of planets and stars

wants to impress MC with his knowledge about space, he usually tells them facts about galaxies and constellations during classes

MC of course would notice certain marks on Alan's little body, he would feel protective of the child (llamen al dif)

he steals things from his classmates, he was already scolded several times by MC

animal lover, once brought a moth he found on the playground into the classroom and Doe ate it, he cried for thirty minutes while MC comforted him

when he plays with puppets he pretends that one puppet is him and the other is MC, usually his games are of them getting married and living in the forest

Peter Dunbar.

a very sociable child simply because he is indifferent to all other people other than MC, he enjoys causing mischief to his classmates who play with MC

MC has to make sure Peter doesn't bite his fingers or scratch his face, a habit he has while concentrating

Peter looks like a bald rat when it's very hot weather, which MC finds funny, but they still puts sunscreen on him so the boy doesn't get sun-burned

even though there are many things that Peter doesn't like, like swimming, fruits or singing, he would do it for MC, adding the biggest embarrassment of his life by doing group dance with his classmates but happy to see his favorite teacher smiling

he would bring sweet lunches to share with his teacher, lying by saying that it is too much and he can't eat it all by himself (Peter loves sweet lunches but he loves his teacher more)

probably draws him and MC on the board with lots of hearts around them, causing the other kids in the classroom to start crying because they want to be the only ones for MC

Ren.

a cutie with his teacher, a bastard with everyone else, he knows how to maintain that image very well to fool MC

he sneaks into the staff room to see you, very attentive, isn't he? sometimes he leaves small gifts on your table

fights with Peter every time he tries to get him in trouble with the teacher, he must maintain his good boy reputation for you to love him!

the last time a girl confessed to him, Ren pushed her into the mud of the playground and made her cry, unfortunately the girl told MC and Ren also cried, not because of the scolding but because he didn't want MC to think that he was bad

once he saw you outside of class time, you were at the supermarket and he panicked because he had fake tattoos that he put on (they came in the packaging of the gum he ate)

MC would come to think that Ren lives in a super religious way since he always draws angels. Ren doesn't draw angels, he draws an angel (you)

Mycheal.

another little manipulator but this one cries every time he tricks MC and gets hugs illicitly (little baby)

he is a very hardworking child in class when it is time to do manual work, he likes to make small paper flowers for his teacher

the baby gets very sad every time he is left out of school projects, he doesn't know why no one seems to like him. surprisingly, he managed to get along fairly well with John Doe until he noticed his interest in MC

usually wraps his tail around MC's leg whenever he feels nervous or sick, that has been an indicator for MC to lull the child

kid who is a cotton candy fan, Peter pushed him while they were playing on the playground and his candy fell to the ground (he cried for 40 minutes)

kitten boy starts purring when MC praises his work

Keith and Tenebris.

as for them, I decided that they were twins in this AU (tenebris still has his blue skin and strange smile), they don't seem to get along very well and have a marked rivalry because they both want MC for themselves

Keith usually hates being in the classroom because his classmates are very noisy, MC has tried to help him with the overstimulation so that it is not an uncomfortable experience, since then Keith loves going to kindergarten

Tenebris does not get along with most of his classmates (if not all), he came close to befriending John Doe and Mycheal because they know what it's like to be treated differently because of how they look, but Doe scared him off by showing him a pair of beetles he found on the playground and Mycheal…well, just by being a liar

Keith is a very dedicated child, he likes to take care of the flowers in the playground with the help of MC, his teacher usually reads books about facts about flowers and apparently Keith is one of the few who pays attention (he cries every time that Jack plucks flowers from the garden to give them to MC)

Tenebris uses a toy guitar from the classroom to serenade his favorite teacher, that always kills MC with cuteness (Tenebris gets angry because it's not a real guitar)

when there are school trips, Keith always takes his teacher's hand and tries to pull them to see everything he finds interesting with them, whether it's a flower or a heart-shaped cloud

Tenebris always takes advantage when playing with swords with his classmates to satisfy his violent need to hurt everyone who likes MC, the game ends up turning into a real battle and Tenebris is scolded

Solivan Brugmansia.

at first glance, MC thought that the boy was always upset and didn't like him being around, but Sol just doesn't know what to do like when he's around his favorite teacher

the quiet child in the classroom, prefers to do his work alone, always takes the opportunity to draw MC with chalk on the playground

the boy is obviously obsessed (and not in a fun way) with his teacher, his parents came to the classroom angry because Sol had his sketchbooks full of sketches of you

you are the only person he allows to hold his stuffed animal, he leaves it with you whenever he goes to the bathroom and asks you to play with it, you don't think it's strange that Sol has a stuffed horse, children have strange toys all the time

Sol is clearly a target for bullying, you know it, you see it, so you have to constantly check that he is not hurt (Peter put gum in his hair once and he cried a lot)

SURPRISINGLY, he is one of the few children who has REAL friends, he has Hyugo, a classmate from another class, Hyugo knows about his crush on MC and is not very secretive, Sol has to cover his mouth or push him to the sandbox to make him shut up

Damon.

puppy love, usually chases other children on all fours and licks snot from his own nose

barks every time someone gets too close to MC but in the end the scolding is always worth it since MC teacher strokes his head when he doesn't promise it won't happen again (it will happen again)

he will believe anything you tell him, he is quite gullible with the things that MC says, if his teacher tells him that he can't dig holes in the playground because giant insects will come out of there that will eat everyone, Damon believes it

sweet tooth, loves chocolate, MC has to be careful with what his students eat, Damon often hides chocolate bars in his pockets and that always ends in MC confiscating the chocolates

Damon has a friend in another class who he calls DG, he is his best friend and again Damon is one of the few kids with real friends in your class, DG knows that Damon likes you but unlike Hyugo he is more secretive

when there are school dances, Damon gives his all, always trying hard, not only because he loves to dance but he also loves when his favorite teacher applauds and praises him

 ♡

[myfavoritesstuff]

Visual Novels & Webtoons

Note: Please do not read if you are not okay with yandere tendencies or violence!

Discord!!!! Please join if you like reading and/or writing or just want to talk (text). It will be my way of talking or obsessing over these characters.

Note: The Discord Link is now updated! Feel free to join!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dreaming Freedom

Nothing yet

The Kid at the Back

Through the Illustrated Veil

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

“Your Andy”

Possession from Within

“Yes, We Really Do” (smut)

Through the Illustrated Veil

14 Days with you

Through the Illustrated Veil

Mushroom Oasis

Nothing yet

A Date with Death

Nothing yet

Favor

Embrace of Shadows (smut)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[baobei-bu]

"Don't tell me that's what you think I won't be able to endure?"

[bluesidez]

Sylus is secure.

Secure in his position, secure in his status, secure in his person. It doesn’t matter how the world sees him because he knows who he is. No bounty is too high and no expectation is too grand for someone like him.

Yet, it all crumbles at the faintest idea of you not being able to see him.

You’re supposed to resonate with him. You’re supposed to recognize him. You’re supposed to remember what you two have been through.

The look in your eyes, the fear they hold, and uncertainty of it all is too much to bear.

The voice that once sang him to sleep is shaking trying to appear strong.

He left his soul within your grasps, but as tries to reach for your fingertips, he can feel the ends of world slip away. You’re not recognizing his dreams anymore. Those nightmares have come back to haunt you.

Though you can’t see him, he can see right through you.

That uncertainty scares him.

me patiently waiting for Sylus’s myth rerun :3

divider by: strangergraphics

[biblical-chronicles]

Sibling rivalry

__________________________________________

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

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

__________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone?”

“More or less.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Liam Gallagher.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noel scoffed. "Oh, fuck off."

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

"You’re a gobshite, is what you are."

"And yet, people love me."

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

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

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

"Absolutely," Noel muttered.

"Since birth," Liam added.

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin’ hell, Liam," Noel groaned.

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

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

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

"Bet she’s not."

"Bet she is."

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

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

Liam scoffed. "I never lose."

"You’re losin’ now."

"Am I fuck."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You love it, though,” he teased.

You pretended to consider. “…Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noel grinned. “You are, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck was that?

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

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

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

Not that it mattered, apparently.

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

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

And then your phone buzzed.

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

Noel: You still alive?

You blinked. What?

Noel: Got some time this evenin’?

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

Okay. Okay. Breathe.

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

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

Noel: I could come round yours?

Shit. Shit.

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

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

Noel: Sound.

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

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

You took a deep breath, then pulled it open.

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

You blinked.

“…You brought flowers?”

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

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

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

The evening had settled into something easy, something comfortable.

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

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

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

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

Noel scoffed. “Me?”

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

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

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

Then your phone buzzed.

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

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

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

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

Liam.

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

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.

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

You chewed your lip, staring at the message.

Alright. Two options.

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

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

“Y’alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, can’t tonight. Another time?

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

...

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

How did you even get here?

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

You can’t have both.

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

What do I do?

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

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

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

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

With shaky hands, you grabbed your phone, quickly choosing

Liam's number

Noel's number

________________________________________

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

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

[ohthethingswedoforlove]

Caged

Character: Mychael from Mushroom Oasis

Summary: At what point does a house become a prison, and at what point did his kindness start to feel stifling?

Warnings: yandere character; descriptions of violence; imprisonment;

  The fire crackles softly in the fireplace as you observe him in near complete stillness. Sitting quietly on the floor, right in front of the source of warmth, he diligently works away at a knitting project from wool he made sure to be all your favorite colors. A heavy silence hangs over the room.

  And your contempt for him is as palpable as the sharp pain in your mangled leg.

  You wish things hadn't ended up like this, and you have a feeling that he felt the same, but you were also long over feeling sorry for him. It's his fault.

  Well. Maybe it had been your fault too, in some ways. Maybe if you hadn't blindly ventured into the woods, maybe if you had been firm in leaving as soon as you were conscious and able to move again, maybe if you had just called him a monster right from the start; maybe then you wouldn't have walked straight into this cage.

  He steals a quick glance at you, only to just as quickly go back to pretending that his focus was only on his knitting needles. You clutch the hem of your sweater, one he had made for you, as a thought passed through you that perhaps you should have used them as a weapon when you had the chance. No way he's going to leave anything sharp near you now.

  His tail flicks to the side and he heaves a sigh. "Are you hungry?" He tentatively asks, slightly nervous and unsure. But you stay quiet. You're sure he can feel your searing gaze on him, his ears drooping as if in response to your lack of an answer. It's not the first time he asked you that in the past few... Hours? It feels like it's been hours.

  After a moment, you actually decide to do him the favor to speak up.

  "I want to leave." You simply state. His ears move again, this time twitching in discomfort. It's not the answer he wanted from you.

  The tone he uses holds a bit of disdain. "You saw what happened when you did, so no." He then stands up, making sure to leave both the unfinished project and its respective needles far away from the bed you laid in, and starts heading towards the kitchen. Only to stop at the doorway.

  You catch yet another glimpse from him, and though you forced yourself to look away immediately, his posture softened. "I know you're hungry. I'll make you something you'll like, I promise!" He smiles at you.

  And you turn over to lay facing the wall.

  Another sigh escapes him, and you hear the sound of his footsteps disappear into the kitchen. But you stay unmoving, despite the tears welling up in your eyes.

  You want to go home.

  And your leg hurts. It still hasn't properly healed from the incident.

  As you think back on your last and only escape attempt, the pain only gets worse. You had grown suspicious of his behaviour, thinking that it was strange how much he insisted on you staying, how much he refused to elaborate how you had gotten here in the first place. Sure, he had been nothing but kind and hospitable towards you, but why? Why does he act like you have no reason to go back to your life?

  And so, with the accumulating suspicion and discomfort, you decided to run in the middle of the night. A terrible idea, all things considered, since you ended up lost in the middle of the dark woods and stuck in place by a bear trap to the leg.

  Your absence must have awoken him, but your screams certainly led him to you.

  He was in about as much distress as you, rushing to your side and immediately getting to freeing you from the trap, all the while scrambling over mortified ramblings of worry and disappointment over you not trusting him. You didn't even have the energy to fight back as he carried you all the way back to his cabin, while frantically muttering under his breath about how you'll never leave through that door ever again.

  The pleasant smell of his cooking suddenly snaps you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. You recognize the smell in annoyance, quickly realising that he's indeed making something you'll like.

  "Firefly?" You nearly jump out of bed at him calling you by the usual nickname, caught off guard by how you hadn't heard him make his way to now stand right to the side of the bed.

  You finally make the mistake of making eye contact. And your head starts to feel f u z z y.

  "Everything is going to be alright." He immediately leans into you, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't need to worry about anything." It doesn't stop you from getting lost in his strangely glowy gaze however, as you suddenly find yourself weirdly... Tempted to agree with him.

  A look of guilt passes through him. It doesn't last.

  "I'll take good care of you."

[celestialgallaghers]

Bruised Ego [18+]

Oasis brain rot has consumed me so badly i’m sorry.

Summary: Tagging along on tour with Oasis should’ve been amazing. And it was except for one major problem: Liam. You two don’t get on well and being stuck around him for days on end makes it worse. After a particularly ruthless offense on your end, Liam plots his revenge. 

Word count: 7.1k

Your ears were ringing, the vibrations of the music still thrumming through your body. Being on tour with Oasis was fun. Ecstatic, even. The energy in the venues was unbelievable. Thousands and thousands of fans screamed, shouted, and practically worshipped the band. And somehow, they all seemed to remain relatively level-headed. I.e. they weren't divas. 

Well, most of them weren't. 

Liam was often brash and unpredictable. It was amazing that he and Noel were even related. 

You’d met Noel way back in his roadie days and the two of you had shared some good fuckin’ laughs. He was fun to be around, never taking shit too seriously. Sure he could be a cocky bastard too, but it was in a loveable way. Liam, on the other hand, was anything but. 

Over the years, you’d become part of Noel’s inner circle. You knew his friends, his girlfriends, his dealer, everything. It was inevitable that Liam would have to be part of that picture too. 

Your first impression of him was that he was a bit standoffish. He stood about, not saying much. Mostly lingered in the background, drink in hand, tossing out the occasional quip. In the beginning you didn’t mind him. However when the band really started to take off and you began hanging around more, he changed. Became more self assured and loud-mouthed. Suddenly, avoiding him wasn’t so easy.

Before, you only had to put up with him at the pub or a gig, and even then, he was tolerable. Running his mouth? You walked away. Being more annoying than usual? Another pint solved that. You had ways of drowning him out.

That all changed when you found yourself stuck on a tour bus for endless hours with him. 

You’d been a fan of Oasis since their genesis. Well, since Noel joined anyway. So when they exploded all over the world, you didn’t think twice when he asked if you wanted to join for a leg of the tour. In hindsight, maybe you should've thought it through more. 

You and Liam had never exactly seen eye to eye, but the tour had amplified every little irritation. It had started small. Accusing you of stealing his lighter (you didn’t), calling your taste in music “shite”, or nicking your sunglasses. You gave as good as you got, though. A well-placed jab about his ego or a quip about how Noel carried the band usually did the trick.

Then there were the more vicious moments. Like the time you’d shared a hotel wall and he refused to turn down his music, no matter how many times you banged on the wall. Or when he told a reporter you were just some groupie who wouldn’t leave, which led to a shouting match so loud that even Noel had to step in. And of course the night he’d implied that your friendship with Noel was something more, which was just completely untrue.

It was exhausting, infuriating, and completely unavoidable. No matter how much you tried to ignore him, Liam had a way of pulling you into his orbit whether you liked it or not.

Tonight’s show had been another insanely loud and energetic one, but something was clearly pissing Liam off. You’d taken on the simple job of handing them towels after the gig, and the scowl on his face almost made you laugh. And right now, as he sulked in the post-show haze, you had a feeling he was about to throw a fit over something ridiculous. By now you’d learned how to interpret Liam-isms. After being in eachothers pockets for so long, it was practically second nature. But that also meant you knew how to push his buttons, almost as well as Noel did. 

You handed off the last towel and followed everyone back into the dressing room. Another thing you loved about Oasis? Every single show ended with everyone getting completely pissed and going a bit mad. Absolute mayhem. And you loved every second of it. As you made your way through the door, you noticed Liam was already sulking in the corner. Everyone else ignored him, too busy cracking open bottles and flicking lighters. The air quickly became thick with smoke and sweat. 

Someone handed you a beer, and you perched on the edge of a rickety couch. You’d learned the hard way not to trust the surfaces of dressing room couches. Some things were better left unknown. 

Noel found you, and the two of you clinked bottles. 

“Great show tonight,” you said, taking a swig. “They were screamin’ proper loud. I think my ears will be ringing for a week.” Noel chuckled but before he could even open his mouth, Liam mumbled something from the corner.

You turned your head toward him. “What?”

“Said if you don’t like it, you can leave,” Liam repeated, his expression growing more and more agitated. “No one’s askin’ you to hang round.”

You scoffed. The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. “Don’t be an asshole, Liam,” you said, disdain dripping from every syllable.

Noel just stood there, vaguely amused. He had always appreciated your ability to handle Liam’s antics, no matter how insufferable they could be. Liam, on the other hand, just glowered. 

“No, really,” he said, shoving himself to his feet and shuffling over. “What exactly is it that you’re doin’ here? You’re just in it for the free ride.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned toward Noel, speaking as if Liam weren’t even there. “What crawled up his ass?”

Noel smirked and took a slow sip of his beer. “Dunno. But whatever it is, it’s been there a while.”

Ignoring Liam was probably a mistake.

“No, I’m seriously askin’ you,” he said, voice sharpening. “What’s the real reason you hang around?”

You blinked, caught off guard for just a second. Was he serious? You were starting to get properly pissed off now.

“You know damn well why I’m here so don’t act thick,” you said, trying to keep your voice level. “Noel asked me to come, and I said yes. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him.” 

Noel, ever the instigator, simply shrugged. “Yeah, Liam. Thought you liked when people actually wanna be around us.”

Liam ignored him, eyes still locked on you. “You don’t even do anything,” he shot back, sneering. “All you do is hand us the towels and take up space.” 

Your fingers tightened around the bottle in your hand. 

“Fuck you, Liam.” 

His expression twisted into something smug as he watched you rise to leave. And then, like the complete tosser he was, he moved to the door, blocking your exit.

“Oh, so you’re gonna run away now? Like you always do?”

You glared up at him. Unfortunately, he was taller than you. Significantly taller. You tried to push past him, but he shifted, making it even harder.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, that insufferable smirk creeping onto his face.

“Let me through, Liam.” Your voice was quiet, but laced with pure rage. You were not in the mood to get into a screaming match tonight. He stood his ground, so you put all of your body weight into shoving him out of my way. He barely budged. 

This only seemed to amuse him. “And what if I don’t?” he challenged, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

You clenched your jaw. You knew you shouldn’t do it. You really shouldn’t do it. But he was leaving you no choice.

Before you could overthink it, you brought your knee up. Hard.

A strangled gasp escaped him as he doubled over, finally allowing you to move past. The sound of laughter and jeers echoed behind you as you stormed off, gripping your beer tight. You needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere to stew. And maybe have a cigarette of two. 

You found a secluded corner and let out a deep sigh, still fuming. You were mad. Not just at Liam, but at yourself for letting him get under your skin so easily. His words replayed in your mind. “Free ride.” Bastard. Sure, you supposed tagging along with the band might look like freeloading to him, but to accuse you of just taking up space? That stung. Noel was your friend. Had been your friend for a long time now. He was the one that asked you to come, not Liam. If Liam had a problem with that he should’ve said something sooner, not near the end of the tour. 

You leaned back against a cool concrete, letting the chill seep into your skin. The air here was quiet, calm. Something you desperately needed after the chaos of the dressing room.

You fished a cigarette out of your pocket and placed it between your lips, willing the nicotine to ease the knot of irritation in your chest. Halfway through your second one, you heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.

They slowed as they neared, hesitating. Your gaze remained firmly fixed ahead. You knew exactly who it was. His stupid cologne gave him away.

Liam. Of course.

Something told you Noel had forced him to come find you. He cleared his throat loudly, as if demanding your attention.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

“Brilliant. Nice to see you too,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think, genius? I want to talk to you. You’re the one who kneed me in the bollocks, remember?”

You scoffed, flicking ash off your cigarette. “Yeah and you deserved it.” 

Liam’s scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. He knew he deserved it a bit, but would never admit it. He gritted his teeth before replying. 

“You didn’t have to be so violent about it.” 

“Yeah well you didn’t have to be such a dick either,” you shot back, finally turning your head to look at him. 

“I wasn’t even being that bad,” he retorted with a scoff. “You’re the one who overreacted.”

“Yeah sure ok Liam,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like you were deliberately trying to wind me up or anything.”

Liam folded his arms, clearly annoyed but unsure how to counter that. Instead, he moved to sit on the ledge you’d claimed. A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again, his tone carrying just a hint of mockery.

“You could at least apologize for almost castrating me,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a grin if he weren’t so irritated.

You sat up, looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Fine. I’m sorry for kneeing you in the balls.”

It wasn’t sincere and he knew it. But you really didn’t want to waste your night fighting with him yet again.

“Drinks to make it better?” you offered, gesturing toward the dressing room.

He narrowed his eyes at you, still skeptical, but eventually relented with a small huff. “Fine. You owe me for that one.”

“Atta boy,” you said, patting his leg as you slid off the ledge.

“Don’t mock me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” you teased, noting how he was still wincing. “I didn’t get you that bad.”

“You definitely did!” he retorted, irritation mounting. “I’ll be sterile for the rest of my life now, thanks to you.”

“Maybe that's for the best,” you said under your breath.

“What was that?” His head whipped toward you, eye’s narrowing.

“Nothing,” you huffed. “Let’s all just hope and pray that the mighty Liam Gallagher's dick still works.”

“Oh piss off,” he grumbled. 

You snorted at that. Men were so touchy when it came to their dick. It honestly amused you. 

“Fine, fine,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “I’ll find you some ice for that, yeah?” 

“Don’t bother,” he grumbled. “I’m fine.”

But your eyes flicked down, catching the way he subtly adjusted himself, clearly still nursing the ache.

“Sure you are,” you replied, biting back a grin. “How bout that drink, then?”

Without waiting for a reply, you headed back toward the dressing room, hearing his footsteps reluctantly follow behind.

True to your word, you fixed him a drink. By the time you handed it to him, his scowl had softened slightly, though you knew it’d be a while before he dropped the whole thing.

The night stretched on, the room a blur of laughter, music, and the occasional drunken shout. People drifted in and out, and you, now properly drunk, had completely pushed the earlier incident to the back of your mind. 

What you didn’t notice, however, was the way Liam had been watching you from across the room, his gaze sharp and unreadable. There was still a flicker of irritation in his eyes, though now it was laced with something else. He’d slowly been plotting a way to get a bit of payback throughout the night.

You stood up suddenly, stretching. “Right, I’m going for a piss,” you announced, making your way toward the bathroom.

Liam’s eyes tracked you, and as soon as you disappeared behind the door, he quickly drained the rest of his drink and pushed himself off the couch. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he strolled after you, slipping through the bathroom door quietly.

He saw you, but you hadn’t noticed him. He leaned against the door, making sure it was securely shut. A quick scan of the bathroom confirmed that you were all alone.

You’d just finished washing your hands when the sound of someone clearing their throat made you freeze. Your head snapped up, and through the mirror, you locked eyes with him.

“What the fuck, Liam?”

His smirk widened at your obvious surprise. He leaned lazily against the door, arms folded across his chest, exuding a sort of casualness that set your nerves on edge.

“Just checking in on you, mate,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “Would hate for something to happen to you.” 

“You didn’t need to follow me in here, you creep.”

Liam just chuckled, completely unfazed. “Just making sure you weren’t up to anything. You know, plotting which band member to incapacitate next.”

You rolled your eyes, but something about the way he was watching you, like he was waiting for a reaction, made you uneasy. You suddenly felt vulnerable with your back to him.

“What are you getting at?” you asked, turning around slowly to face him.

Liam tilted his head slightly, considering you. He could see the flicker of suspicion in your eyes, and that only fueled his amusement. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

A strange tension settled in the air. The bathroom suddenly felt much smaller. You still had no idea what he was up to, but didn’t want to stick around and find out. You eyed the door, trying to plan an escape, but it seemed like you were really, truly trapped in here with him. 

Liam caught the way your gaze flickered toward the door. “You’re not actually thinking of running out on me after I’ve been so considerate, are you?” His tone was mockingly hurt. “That’d be a bit rude.”

You sighed, tilting your head. “Just trying to figure out what it is you want.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, feigning innocence. “What? Can’t a guy just have a friendly chat?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Is this about earlier? I thought we’d moved past that.”

Liam scoffed. “Just returning the favor, me. You know, since you nearly ended my bloodline earlier.” 

You snorted. “What, you gonna punch me in the vagina or something?”

Liam let out a short, amused chuckle and shook his head. “Nah, that’s a bit daft, don’t you think? There are… much more creative ways to get back at someone.” 

Your gaze sharpened, suspicion flaring. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took his time, pretending to consider his options, drawing out the moment just to see the flicker of impatience cross your face. 

Then, he leaned forward slightly, dropping his tone low, almost whisper-like.

“What if I just lock the door?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Keep you right here with me for a while.”

The air in the bathroom shifted.

You could still hear muffled sounds from the dressing room outside, but inside this tiny, enclosed space, it was just the two of you. The weight of his words lingered, heavy between you.

You held his gaze, refusing to waver. “Oh yeah?” Your voice was steady, but there was a challenge in it. “And why would you wanna do that?”

Liam’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. He could hear the defiance in your voice, but he could also see the way your fingers twitched slightly, the way you shifted just the tiniest bit where you stood. He pushed himself off the door, taking a slow step towards you. 

“Oh, you know, just to enjoy your company a little longer. It’s been a while since we had some… alone time.”

Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to scoff. You turned away slightly, arms crossing over your chest in a weak attempt at indifference. But it was too late. He’d seen the way you faltered. Because you knew exactly what he was referring to.

That night.

Months ago, in some pub, Liam had sworn up and down he could outdrink everyone. It had started with an innocent enough bet: who could drink the most pints before tapping out. Classic, stupid, testosterone-fueled entertainment. But as the night went on, it became less about the booze and more about Liam’s ego.

“I could drink you under the fuckin’ table,” he’d slurred, pointing a lazy finger at you across the sticky wooden bar top.

“You’re already halfway there, Liam,” you’d shot back, smirking as he swayed slightly on his stool.

Noel had been pissing himself laughing in the corner, watching as his brother made a fool of himself.

Somehow, you and Liam had been the last ones standing. That’s when things got messy. The two of you had spent hours running wild through the streets, fueled by booze, drugs, and reckless abandon, only to find yourself in his bed the next morning. 

Neither of you had spoken about it since. You hadn’t been sure he even remembered. He never let on or made a jest about it, so you pretended that it didn’t even happen. It was easier that way. Easier to hate him than to… well you didn’t really know. It was a feeling you were too scared to explore and something told that going down that road would be detrimental.  

But now, standing here, Liam watching you with that smug, knowing look, the memory felt a little too close.

His eyes flicked over your expression, smirk widening. “You remember that night, don’t you?” His voice was slow and teasing. “It’s a bit blurry for me, but some moments I remember quite vividly.” 

He took a step closer, and you willed yourself not to react.  You met his gaze evenly, forcing an unimpressed scoff. “We’re not doing that again,” you said flatly. Then, for good measure, you added, “And from what I recall, you were quite unremarkable.”

It was a blatant lie. 

“Hm,” he hummed, tilting his head as if in thought. “Funny, that’s not what I remember.” He took another step forward. “The sounds you made were pretty unforgettable, I must say.”

Your stomach flipped. You’d been caught. There was no escaping this. Memories that you’d forbidden yourself to think about were now rushing to the surface at an alarming rate, making you flush all over.

He was only a few feet away now, closing in. You were running out of space, out of room to breathe.

“Not. Happening.” 

The words came out strong, firm, but your heart was hammering against your ribs, betraying you. He could see right through it.

His gaze locked onto yours, eyes dark and unreadable. The tension was thick, pressing in from all sides. When you instinctively moved back, your lower back met the cool edge of the sink, stopping you in your tracks.

Shit.

Liam let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer until he was nearly flush against you. The heat rolling off him was overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” His voice was lower now. “Not even a little bit interested?”

He brought his hands to either side of the sink, caging you in. You swallowed hard.

“Liam.”

It was supposed to be a warning, a firm line in the sand. But it came out softer, almost pleading. You winced at yourself.

His smirk grew.

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth, slightly parted, lips plush and so damn close. He licked them absently, and the tip of his tongue just barely grazed you. A small, sharp inhale escaped before you could stop it.

Your breath mingled with his, the gap between you shrinking, pulling you into some inevitable gravitational force. He smelled like beer, sweat, and something distinctly Liam. Something intoxicating.

Your brain was screaming at you to walk away. To push him off. To regain control of the situation. But the alcohol and sudden lust in your bloodstream were drowning out those voices, leaving behind only heat, impulse, and the undeniable truth that this was a losing battle.

One second you're standing there, locked in a tug of war, and the next, your mouth was crashing into his with bruising force. A sigh of relief escaped your throat, unbidden, as if your body had been waiting for this moment all along.

Liam, the bastard, smirked into the kiss, because of course he would. He presses back with equal, if not more, force. His hands move from the sink to your waist, pinning you against the cool porcelain. Your hands flew up, grasping the back of his neck.

Then his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. You let out a small, needy sound before you could stop it, and his grip on your waist tightened in response. Alarm bells were ringing in your head, but they were no use.

Liam, ever the smug prick, took his time, dragging his teeth over your lip, biting just enough to make you shiver.

You tug him closer, pressing against him. You take control, tongue sliding into his mouth, swallowing the low groan that rumbles in his throat.

For a moment you’re lost in the taste of him. The heat of him. Then he pushes forward, his hips pressing heavy against yours, pinning you so firmly into the sink that you feel every inch of him. The stiffness pressing into you sends a thrill through you, heat beginning to sink low into your stomach and down between your thighs. 

This is dangerous territory. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Then he’s grinding against you and the pressure makes you gasp into his mouth. Your fingers tighten around the back of his neck, nails digging in as your body arches instinctively into his. Liam groans lowly. His hand moves from your waist, trailing down your thighs. Suddenly he’s hooking your leg around his hip, giving himself more space. 

He presses impossibly closer, and you feel him, hard and insistent against your heated core. A strangled sound escapes your throat, something needy and desperate. 

His mouth moves, leaving your lips to trail hot kisses down your jaw. When he reaches the pulse point on your neck, he bites down hard enough to make you whimper. He feels it, feels you, react beneath him, and the bastard smiles against your skin.

Then he sucks, lips warm and wet as he marks you, punctuating it with a sharp thrust of his hips that sends sparks up your spine. A strangled whine spills from your lips as your fingers tighten in his hair. A steady, aching pulse throbs low in your core, demanding more. Demanding him.

You roll your hips, grinding against him, chasing that friction, and Liam groans. A deep sound that makes your skin burn. His grip tightens, one hand splaying across your ass, dragging you harder against him.

The feeling of him hot, hard, rocking against you sends another sharp thrill through your body, but it’s still not enough.

“Liam,” you manage to gasp, voice wrecked and wanting.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough against your skin. “You really are desperate for me, aren’t you?”

His words send a fresh wave of heat straight through you, and you should fight back, should snap at him for his cocky arrogance, but then he rolls his hips again, perfectly, and all that leaves your lips is a broken moan.

He pulls away from your neck, lifting his gaze to meet yours. His lips are flushed, swollen, glistening with spit. His eyes, dark, heavy-lidded, and filled with something dangerous, leave you momentarily breathless, completely losing your train of thought at how devastatingly gorgeous he looks like this.

You’re broken from your trance as you feel him twitch rather noticeably against you. Your breath catches, heat flooding through you all over again.

Liam notices. Of course, he does. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he presses forward just a little more, just enough to make you feel it.

“Feel that?” His voice is rough, teasing, laced with something darker.

You swallow hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He chuckles, breath hot against your cheek. “C’mon, love. Don’t go shy on me now.”

You purse your lips, fighting the way your body reacts to him, to the way he’s so sure of himself.

“I don’t know,” you murmur breathlessly, tilting your head and pretending to consider. “Feels… underwhelming.”

Liam lets out a sharp breath, half amusement, half disbelief, before his hands tighten on your hips. In one swift movement, he ruts against you, slow but deep, the pressure enough to knock the air from your lungs.

You gasp. His smirk returns.

“Still underwhelmed?” he murmurs against your jaw, his lips brushing skin.

You hate him. Hate how good he is at this. But mostly, you hate how much you want more.

“Liam,” your voice wavering, thick with frustration.

He chuckled, dark and low, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient,” he murmured, fingers tracing patterns just above where you ached for him. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, hips jerking involuntarily as his hand slipped under your shirt and began toying with the waistband of your jeans, the ghost of a touch setting every nerve alight. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

You feel his fingers skimming along your zipper and nod. He wastes no time in unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, pushing them down just enough to make room. 

He slips his hand inside, exploring the newly exposed skin of your inner thigh. His touch was feather light, slowly dragging his fingers, deliberately teasing everywhere except where you needed him most. Your body was tensing with every drag. Every time he would get close he would skirt around at the last moment

It was torture. You tried to grind against his hand, desperate for even the smallest bit of friction, anything, but the moment you did, he pulled back completely.

You gasped, eyes snapping open.  

Liam smirked, watching you with a cruel sort of amusement, chest rising and falling just as heavily as yours. He was enjoying this. Holding you on the edge, dragging it out.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice challenging.

Your pride flared for half a second because fuck him, he knew exactly what you wanted. But another, bigger part of you, the one that was throbbing and needy and so desperate, didn’t care about pride anymore.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, eyes burning into his.

“Please,” you gasped, not caring how desperate you sounded. This was beginning to border on agony. You needed him to touch you. 

His fingers skimmed the waistband of your underwear, maddingly slow. “Please what?” he murmured, voice thick.

You swallowed hard. Frustration and want coiled tight in your stomach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, that damn smirk playing on his face as he dragged his gaze over you. He was enjoying this too much. You knew he wouldn’t give in easily.

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. You wouldn’t beg. Not yet.

Liam arched a brow, clearly amused by your silence. “C’mon, love,” he taunted, fingers tracing lower but still not there. “I know you can be polite.”

Your pride waged a brief, losing battle. “Touch me,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Then, gritting your teeth, you forced out, “Please.”

Liam’s smirk deepened, victory flashing in his eyes.

“See? All you had to do was ask,” he said, voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Liam’s hand slid down again, this time with purpose, and he pressed his thumb roughly over your clit. The jolt of pleasure shot through you like a live wire, making your hips jerk involuntarily. His low, knowing chuckle sent another shiver down your spine.

He started circling you slowly though your underwear, teasing, barely giving you what you needed. A strangled moan escaped your lips. You were soaked. There was no way he couldn’t feel it.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, voice thick with something akin to reverence. 

Two fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, then lower, parting you as he gathered the slickness between them. The rough pads of his fingers dragged torturously along you before teasing at your entrance.

Your head fell back against the mirror as he finally dipped into you, stretching you in a way that was both excruciatingly slow and perfect.

His fingers curled, expertly finding the spot that had you gasping, clutching at him. A high-pitched whine slipped from your throat. Liam sighed shakily in response, his free hand gripping your hip as he leaned in to capture your lips again. He swallowed every sound you made, lips moving hungrily against yours, matching the urgent rhythm of his fingers.

And then he curled them again, deeper this time. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Your hips rocked into him, desperately chasing the pleasure, and he let you. Let you fall into the pace he was setting, let you lose yourself in it. His thumb returned to your clit, circling with devastating precision.

You were close. So close it almost hurt.

“Mm—Liam—” you gasped, body shuddering, the coil in your stomach ready to snap.

But then his fingers were gone.

Your eyes snapped open in disbelief, your body trembling from the abrupt loss. You barely had time to catch your breath before you met his gaze, smug, victorious, infuriating.

“What the fuck?” you panted.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “That’s for earlier. You deserved it.”

Irritation bubbled up as you felt your own words echoed back at you. He was enjoying this, playing with you like a cat with a mouse. 

He was pulling away from you, but before he could get too far, you grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked. Hard. “Don't you dare walk away from me.”

He let out a surprised whine, head tilting back slightly at the force. When his eyes flicked back to yours, they were darker, hungrier.

“You really need to stop pulling my hair,” he rasped, though the way his body reacted said otherwise.

You smirked. “Yeah? Or what?”

His grin turned downright predatory. He leaned in close, lips ghosting over yours as he murmured, “Or I’ll make you remember who’s in charge next time,” voice thick with dangerous promise.

A thrill ran down your spine, but defiance still burned hot in your veins. You yanked his hair even harder. 

He threw his head back, eyes briefly fluttering shut as he let out a deep, guttural groan. The sound went straight to your stomach. 

When he looked at you again, there was something new in his gaze, something dangerous.

“You’re really asking for it,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You tilted your chin up, challenging him. “Yeah? You’re all talk. I’d like to see you even tr—”

Before you could finish, Liam spun you around in one swift motion, pressing you against the sink.

Your breath caught as he caged you in from behind, his body flush against yours, his grip firm. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in.

He made eye contact with you through the mirror, wanting to see your every reaction when he spoke. 

“You want to play rough, do you?” His voice was low, edged with something dark and tantalizing. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “Is that what you want?”

His fingers trailed slowly down your back. The touch sent shivers racing down your spine, anticipation tightening in your stomach. Your breathing was ragged, uneven. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded.

Liam tsked softly, his lips barely grazing your ear as he murmured, “Use your words.”

His hand dipped lower, grazing right where you needed him most. The lightest touch, barely there but enough to have your knees buckling.

You choked out a whimper, torn between pride and raw, undeniable need. But there was no fighting it anymore.

“Please,” you gasped, voice unsteady.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers kept teasing, playing just on the edge of where you needed him, drawing out your desperation.

“Please what?” he asked yet again, tone mockingly sweet, fingers dancing ever so slightly closer.

You clenched your jaw, stubbornness warring with your need. “Don’t make me say it,” you whispered, still clinging to the last thread of your dignity.

Liam hummed as if considering, then pulled back slightly. “Fine, I’ll just leave you here then.” His tone was maddeningly casual. “I’ll walk right out that door.”

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist. “Please,” you exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck me.”

Liam went still for a beat. Then, his smirk curled wickedly against your skin.

“What was that?” he taunted, fingers skimming along your inner thigh, feather-light and infuriating. “Couldn’t quite hear you, love.”

A shiver wracked through you, and you shot him a glare through the mirror. “Bastard, yes you did,” you managed, your voice trembling despite the bite in your words.

His smirk widened. He must have had enough too because the next thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone. A wave of relief crashed over you, body humming with anticipation.

The mirror didn’t give you a view of him, but then you felt him. He pressed himself against you, the hard, burning length of him making you gasp. You’d nearly forgotten how well endowed he was, insides clenching in remembrance.

Liam groaned low in his throat as he felt your bare skin against his. He pressed against you further, every inch of his body aligning with yours. His chin dropped to rest on your shoulder as his breath came out ragged and wanting.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

His eyes locked onto yours through the mirror and for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. Your face was flushed, lips parted as you struggled for breath, hair an absolute mess. Liam didn’t look much different except he carried that insufferable smugness. His pupils were blown wide, the sharp blue of his eyes almost lost in the haze of lust.

He reached up, brushing your hair aside before pressing a searing kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. The heat of it sent shivers down your spine. And then, with one smooth movement, he aligned himself against you, teasing your entrance.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed forward for you to feel him. Only the tip. Just enough to drive you insane.

“Liam, God, ple—”

Your plea was cut off by a sharp thrust, his hips snapping forward with force. He went in much deeper than either of you had anticipated, if his choked-off groan was anything to go by. Another strangled groan ripped from his throat as he sank in, fully stretching you open. The sensation stole the air from your lungs.

For a moment he stilled, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. You could feel the tension in his body, the effort it took not to completely lose himself in you. Then he pulled back slowly before plunging in again.

A choked-off noise tore from your throat, almost embarrassing if not for the deep, wrecked sound Liam let out at the same time. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping tight as he built a rhythm, driving into you with increasing intensity. He cursed under his breath, clearly loving how eagerly you moved with him. His pace grew rougher, more urgent.

Your head dropped forward, letting him take what he wanted. You were already on edge from earlier, your body eager and desperate. You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with as much force as you could muster.

Then one of his hands left your hip, sliding up your body. Before you could even process it, he fisted a handful of your hair and yanked your head back up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror.

This sight was filthy. The two of you, tangled together, bodies slick with sweat, moving in sync. The way his jaw clenched, lips parted slightly as he watched every expression that flickered across your face, sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your whole body was on fire. You struggled to keep your head up, feeling it droop again. He firmly yanked it back up again, a quiet hiss of pain and pleasure spilling from your lips. You trembled beneath him, and he groaned at the sight of it, at the way you responded to him so beautifully. His pace became relentless, his hips snapping into yours with forceful precision. Every thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge.

You were shaking now, the coil inside you wound impossibly tight. Liam wasn’t far behind. You could feel it in the way he throbbed inside you, how his movements became just a little rougher, more erratic. With a gasp, one hand slipped down between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with frantic desperation.

“Just like that, love,” Liam murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t stop.”

His words sent fire racing over your skin and a sharp thrust sent you toppling over the edge. A cry tore from your throat as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body clenching tight around him. Your legs shook, entire body trembling as you rode it out, moans spilling from your lips, unrestrained and raw.

Liam cursed, his grip tightening as he pounded into you through your release. The way you clenched around him had his own control shattering in an instant.

“Fuck,” his voice broke as he buried himself deep one last time, warmth flooding inside you as his body tensed, the most heavenly sound leaving his lips. You managed to open your eyes and were met with his beautiful face screwed up in sheer pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the lingering aftershocks. Then, slowly, he slumped forward, his sweat-damp forehead resting against your shoulder, breath hot and heavy against your skin. He stayed there for a few moments, catching his breath before pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your shoulder.

Your eyes met in the mirror again. Liam was still breathing hard, hair disheveled, his skin glistening with sweat. But there was a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips, his blue eyes dark and hazy. 

After catching his breath, he slowly pulled out of you, groaning softly at the feeling. You immediately missed the warmth and weight of him deep within you. 

Liam stepped back slightly, regaining his balance, his gaze dragging over you through the mirror. You looked thoroughly wrecked and judging by the glint in his eyes, he was damn proud of that.

You straightened, stretching and feeling the soreness in your limbs from being bent over a bathroom sink for so long.

“Looks like your dick still works,” you teased. 

Liam let out a deep, amused laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, it certainly does.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he tucked himself back into his pants.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Am I forgiven then?” you questioned, batting your eyelashes for good measure.

Liam hummed, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I suppose you are,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

Then, before you could respond, he stepped in closer and dipped his head, placing a light kiss against your jaw. His lips barely ghosted over your skin before he murmured, voice low and promising.

“But you’re not getting off easy next time.”

This was just for fun but I'll probably write about Noel next :)

[leaawrites]

Ask me again

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: every new years he asks her for a kiss and every new years she denies him, until she doesn't.

Warnings: language, drinking, drunk noel,

Wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

Liam has always been a flirt. Growing up with the Gallagher brothers she became familiar with Noel’s quiet, sarcastic manner and Liam’s loud, flirty one. Going to school with him, she got the full experience of the ‘Liam Gallagher charm’ experience, watching from the sidelines as he leaned against a locker next to some bird, smiling at her like she wouldn’t be forgotten in a week.

It always made her chest ache, not just because all he did was use them, but also because she never got to experience first hand. She never got to stand so close to his hovering body, almost standing beneath him, feeling his breath on her face, receiving a cheeky grin at whatever she said and not just when he found it funny. She never wanted to be only used by him, but sometimes she thought she’d prefer that over simply being his ‘best friend’.

It wasn’t like he never tried it, on New Years, he’d normally catch her eye at the bar shortly before midnight, yelling her way with a grin his way. “Am I gonna get a kiss tonight?”

He tried it every year and every year she laughed it off, shaking her head at his antics and flipping off before going back to nursing her drink or talking to whoever was sitting next to her. It wasn’t like he was serious about it, she couldn’t imagine that.

This year, it was the same, a tradition almost.

The door to the little bar they were celebrating in opened, making Liam’s eyes snap up to the person entering. ‘Please, let it be her,’ he thought as he straightened his back to see the person lost in the crowd. He decided, if she declined him once more he would leave it be forever. No more trying anymore, no more flirting. If she wanted nothing from him, he’d get over her. Fly over her head in the plane he already booked tickets for, just in case.

Celebrating new years in her home country made it more complicated to simply go home after this. Staying at her parents house with her, in the same room, made it difficult to ignore her if this went horribly wrong. So, he made sure to have an escape plan.

It was bulletproof, he thought.

“Hey, love,” he greeted her, pushing past people to get to her side. Grinning at her like he’d just won the lottery. Not yet, he thought.

“Hey, Liam,” she greeted him back, smiling at him softly. In the same way that made his knees weak and his heart beat faster. He couldn’t believe she smiled at him like that and still couldn’t feel anything for him beyond friendship. She had to feel something, right?

She knew what was coming, it were the same seven words as every year.

“Am I gonna get a kiss tonight?”

And he’d receive the same answer every year.

A slight chuckle, a nervous glance down and a soft, “Keep on dreaming, Gallagher.”

She thought her answer was what made him laugh after his question, the realisation that she played the same game as him. Not the embarrassment he felt after every time he asked or the realisation that she didn’t want him the same way he wanted her. It was his final sign tonight, the last time he would’ve tried.

With a slight nod and a forced smile he said, “Cheers.” Lifting up his hand in surrender before disappearing into the crowd again. Leaving her speechless.

What has just happened?

There was no laugh coming from deep down his chest like normally, no invitation to do a shot together either. Just that and a kind of disappointment in his eyes that she’d never seen before. It made her heart ache, her chest tightened in fear. What had she done?

The ring of the bell over the door brought her back to her senses, a large hand touching her shoulder, bringing her body into a side hug made her blink back to reality. Noel was already pissed drunk, laughing at nothing in particular but his pure existence as he greeted her. Talking about something that had happened before she arrived.

“Has Liam already asked you?” he asked, seeming more excited about her answer than the new year that would be starting soon. Twenty minutes, she read from the clock over the bar. “Probably chickened out, didn’t he? Got too scared to be rejected once more. I must say, the way you keep on denying giving him a chance, it’s fun to watch though as his brother, it’s kinda sad how long he’s been trying to get you to kiss him? I mean, every year for six years now, that’s crazy. He really never gives up, eh? Our Liam. What a fucker.”

“What?” she tried making sense of his gibberish talking, though nothing besides the words, ‘got too scared to be rejected once more’ and ‘he really never gives up’ stuck in her head. “What are you saying? Liam’s just doing this for banter, nothing more.”

“Banter?” Noel looked almost offended at her wording. “That boy’s proper in love with you. If it was just banter, he wouldn’t be at the airport right now, would he?”

“What?” More questions formed in her head.

“Fleeing the country to flee the heartbreak, a heartthrob isn’t he?” Rolling his eyes in amusement he didn’t notice the realisation dawning on her face, her eyes growing wide and her mouth opening slightly as if she wanted to say something but it was all stuck in her throat. Because he wasn’t the one she had to say it to, wrong brother.

Noel didn’t notice her distress until she jumped out of her seat and dashed past him, out of the bar and down the street. Running down the street she tried to catch a taxi to take her to him.

Liam was sat in a waiting room, waiting to board his plane in thirty minutes and finally let go of all this. Sitting with his head in his hands, going over what could’ve happened if he wasn’t so dumb to try again. He could be sat at the bar instead, pint in front of him, surrounded by friends and her. She’d still be there. Now, he had nothing of it anymore.

Standing up, he went outside once more, into the busy halls of the airport. Searching for the nearest phone available, he grabbed the last cents in his pocket he still had from her as an exchange to get a pint at the same bar a few days ago. He hadn’t given it back yet, wanting to take it as a souvenir of the trip. Pushing the little pieces of copper into the slot, he dialled a number he knew all too well.

“Hello, mum.”

Talking with his mum always calmed his mind, she just knew the answer to everything.

“Some people just aren’t meant for more than what we know than as,” she said shortly before she had to hang up.

Some people aren’t meant to be more, but he prayed that she wouldn’t be one of them. He really wanted her to be more. No matter what it’d take, he always thought she’d be more.

“Liam!”

Snapping his head to another direction from where he heard his name being called, he was brought back to reality. His plane boarded in twenty minutes. Midnight was in five. He’d be left alone once more, his lips left untouched by hers.

“Liam!”

The second time his name was shouted he saw her. The girl he wanted to run from was running towards him, out of breath like she hadn’t got to catch a break since he left the pub. Not slowing down the closer she got, she crashed into his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck.

“You idiot,” she mumbled against his skin, making his heart sink. His arms hesitated before they wrapped around her waist. “You fucking idiot, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he asked confused, trying to pull back from her but she wouldn’t let him go.

“I had to find out through Noel. You never said anything, you just asked if you got a kiss. You fucking idiot,” she kept on rambling, not catching a break even now to consider his question. Pulling back from him she saw the fear running through his mind.

“Well, I never wanted more.” It was a lie. They both knew it was a lie and when she shook her head at his answer, he knew that she knew too.

“But what if I didn’t?” she asked.

“Didn’t want what?” This was it, he was sure of it. This was the end of it all.

“What if I didn’t just want a kiss? What if I wanted more?” she let out, hesitating a bit.

“Well, do you want more?” he asked, not quite catching onto what she was trying to say.

“Yes, god, Liam. I want way more than just one kiss. I’ve been in love with you for ages, I never wanted just a new years kiss, that’s why I always brushed it off,” she confessed, biting her lip to hold back the tears forming in her eyes.

“I want more too,” he said, a heavy weight lifting from his chest. “I want way more.”

Before he could lean in and capture her lips like he’d dreamed about so many nights, she pushed his chest back, making his brows furrow in confusion.

“Ask me again,” she said.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked with a roll of his eyes, but for her he would even do the most embarrassing thing.

“Only for new years?”

“No.” he shook his head. “Every day and every night and every hour in between.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Good.”

Without another word he pulled her closer, their chest flushed together. Lips moving in sync and the fireworks going off. It was perfect.

Some people weren’t meant to be more, but they were. They finally were more.

“You’re not gonna take the flight back home tonight, Gallagher.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[mc-chipcken]

If you're still taking art requests, could you possibly draw Reader-Insert falling asleep on Mycheal's shoulder, with him freezing up as some people do when a cat falls asleep on their lap 😭

Sorry for taking it so much time anon (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ )

[talkbycolor]

im cooked

i can take doe, he my bby, ALSO I DIDNT EXPECTED MYCHEAL TO BE THAT TALL

[storiesabouteli]

Do The Damage. // Noel Gallagher X f!Reader (Smut)

prompt: Noel falling for a younger singer who isn’t famous yet and is just starting out, so he guides her like a tutor to boost her career and help her gain more attention. But would this bond remain purely professional? (Involves smut, with the potential to escalate over time and features an age gap.)

words: 3,5k.

Noel felt fulfilled, both physically and emotionally; he didn’t need anything more to complete his sense of satisfaction. Even so, during the band's final chapter, a mix of circumstances led him to start considering new possibilities. Unable to leave music behind entirely, he set up a studio and took on the more bureaucratic aspects of supporting future artists. It was his way of giving back to an industry that had given him so much.

He didn’t know much about the artist he’d suddenly become interested in—just that you were a young woman with an undeniable presence. Noel first heard your voice on his way to his mom. It struck a chord deep within him, leaving him sitting in the car even after he arrived, staring out the window and absorbing every word you sang like drops of water in the desert. It was strange, but it was exactly what he needed. Minutes later, he was kicked out of the Uber.

Your voice carried raw potential, unpolished but undeniably captivating—not bad, just unmistakably new. The lyrics were tender and nostalgic, stirring emotions that felt both unfamiliar and deeply rooted. Noel found your work mature in a way he hadn’t been when he first started making music. It was solid, needing no comedic relief or intrusive embellishments to make itself heard.

He couldn’t picture your face, your hair, or even your style, but your voice lingered in his mind. The breaths, the pauses—at times resembling soft, almost failed sighs—were profoundly compelling.

When the song ended, he stared at the radio display, waiting for your name to be announced. Quickly, he grabbed a notebook, scribbling it down before it could slip from his memory.

During dinner with his mother, he mentioned you in passing, his fingers running absentmindedly through his hair. She caught the subtle shift in his tone—how you had left an impression on him.

"Just a girl, huh? How many times have you listened to her songs, Noely?" she teased.

He was typically poetic in his descriptions, even when veiling them in a layer of skepticism, but this time he struggled to downplay it. He swore he had been concise, though he doubted he’d succeeded.

As the visit neared its end, you were all he could think about. He needed to share your music with someone else.

"Not many," he admitted truthfully, though his tone betrayed him.

Peggy chuckled knowingly. "I’ll give her a try," she said, confident. After all, her son’s recommendations rarely missed the mark.

…

Finding you on the internet wasn’t easy. Noel had written down the wrong last name, which delayed his search longer than he’d anticipated. You had no professional recordings, and he later discovered that the radio segment he’d heard was an exclusive showcase for new artists. All he managed to find were amateur videos of you performing at pubs on YouTube, with poor audio quality that didn’t do your voice justice. Still, he played them on repeat over the next few days.

The videos with better resolution became his favorites, though Noel feared it might have more to do with your angelic face than he wanted to admit. He avoided acknowledging the fact that you were much younger than him—far more than he was comfortable quantifying. But in trying to ignore it, the thought seemed to take up permanent residence in his mind. Any guilt he felt over this, he brushed aside, though it lingered in the background.

When Noel closed his eyes at night, he often conjured the image of you from one particular video: wearing a light, summer wine dress with straps that slipped slightly off your shoulders. In his dreams—purely idealistic, he told himself—he imagined gently adjusting the strap with his finger, smoothing your hair as your calm gaze met his. Your head tilted into his touch, resting affectionately in his palm, and he left a soft kiss on your temple as your lashes fluttered. Not that he truly believed he’d ever have that kind of effect on you. The thought alone, however, left him sighing, strangely at peace.

It was indescribable how much your voice consumed his thoughts. He found himself humming snippets of your lyrics while showering, cooking, and winding down after long days. By the time he called his mom the next weekend, she already knew what to expect.

…

You were delicate, and the words flowed effortlessly from your lips. The cameras, the analog quality, and the audio from your YouTube recordings couldn’t compare to the experience of seeing you live. The room was small, filled with a modest crowd—mostly people your age, though a few older ones lingered with curious, skeptical expressions. It was an intimate and pleasant atmosphere.

Noel stayed at a comfortable distance, neither too close to draw attention nor too far to miss the details. He wore a dark collared jacket, paired with jeans, and kept his sunglasses on, even in the dim lighting, to avoid being recognized. Occasionally, he slid them down his nose for a clearer look, wanting to see you without the darkened lenses.

You held the microphone with care, almost as if it were weightless, weaving the cord between your fingers as you took small, measured steps across the tiny makeshift stage. Most of the audience was distracted, caught up in their conversations, but a fair few paused to watch and listen. Occasionally, your voice wavered, and Noel caught the slight furrow in your brow when it happened, a flicker of disappointment crossing your features. But to him, it only made you more endearing.

You wore white tights and a white dress with a Peter Pan collar—an outfit Noel thought suited you perfectly. As he watched, he tugged on the edge of his shirt beneath his jacket, mirroring the way you nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your dress. He smiled to himself, hoping that, somehow, you could feel his silent encouragement. You were doing beautifully.

The performance ended quietly, your soft “thank you” followed by a beat of silence before Noel started clapping. The applause swelled as others joined in. You seemed surprised, hesitating to meet the eyes in the room, but your shy smile gave away your happiness. Noel felt a wave of satisfaction watching you soak in the moment.

Later, with a glass in your hand, you stood chatting with the guitarist. Noel, lingering nearby, imagined himself in the guitarist’s place, strumming alongside you in the dim, hushed venue, where whispered conversations blended into the warm atmosphere. When the guitarist gestured toward him, you turned, and Noel felt a jolt of nerves. His palms began to sweat, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide it.

Up close, you were even more captivating. Your posture wasn’t perfectly straight, and your gait had a slight unevenness he found charming. He avoided smiling too widely, afraid it might give away how thoroughly you had enchanted him.

“I enjoyed your performance,” he said, his voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck. “You sing really well, and your original lyrics are great. You’re very talented.”

The compliment came out smoothly, the product of quiet rehearsals in his mind. But when you bit your lip and offered a shy smile, he felt heat rise to his face, knowing he was probably redder than he’d like to admit.

Your fingers fluttered to the edge of your dress, an unconscious gesture Noel found entirely too adorable. He wanted to take your hand, to offer something to distract you from the nervous thoughts he could see running through your mind. Instead, he waited as you stammered out a soft “thank you,” the sincerity in your voice unmistakable.

When he offered to buy you a drink, he noticed your hesitation but also your curiosity. Maybe it was something about him—the warmth in his tone or the subtle familiarity he carried. Whatever it was, you accepted, and as you joined him, Noel couldn’t help but feel hopeful.

"I don’t think anyone has ever come to see me sing so well-dressed," you said, your eyes sparkling. Noel smiled softly, sensing that in a few hours, you might warm up to him.

Your gaze lingered on his outfit, noting details you didn’t often encounter. The shirt was impeccably tailored, the collar subtly unique, and the jacket—definitely genuine leather—was unlike anything you’d seen around here. You weren’t an expert in such things, but the quality was unmistakable.

Noticing how you wrapped your hands together for warmth, Noel didn’t hesitate. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your icy skin. A pang of guilt hit him for not realizing sooner. You didn’t resist, your small nod of thanks revealing how much you needed it.

"Don’t you think you deserve it?" he said, without considering how flirtatious it might sound. The second the words left his mouth, he realized his tone, but before he could apologize, you gave a soft laugh, shaking your head.

You looked at him thoughtfully, a faint smile forming. "I think it’s nice," you said, "to think that someone would dress up to see me here. To imagine you picking out an outfit, anticipating it throughout the day, thinking about what’s most suitable or comfortable... It’s kind."

Your words had a natural grace, effortless and genuine. Noel felt a pang of self-awareness—most of his words were calculated, spoken with the intent to impress. But with you, it all felt unforced.

You sighed contentedly, nestling into the warmth of his jacket, your hands disappearing into the oversized sleeves. Noel felt a swell of affection as he watched your animated gestures while you spoke, completely unaware of how your knees had brushed against his and stayed there.

“Well, if it helps," he said, his voice deepening in a rhythm of soft pauses, "I heard you on the radio the other day... and I wanted to see you in person."

You nodded, brushing off the compliment—not because it displeased you but because you didn’t know how to handle it. "I like your accent," you said, your tone light and teasing. "It makes you sound older than you are."

Your shoulders brushed as you shifted restlessly, the contact unintentional but comfortable. For a moment, the two of you sat in quiet, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and murmured conversations framing your shared breath.

Noel eventually broke the silence, explaining the record label project he had in mind. His words flowed, outlining the steps it would take for you to pursue something more professional. You listened intently at first, but at some point, your focus drifted to him—the slight silver streak in his dark hair, the furrowed concentration in his thick brow, the perfectly shaped mouth, and the shadow of stubble framing his face.

His gestures were minimal compared to yours, but his hands—large yet precise—drew your attention. They felt timeless, like something out of an old film, delicate but grounded.

“I’m listening,” you said at last, “but I wouldn’t have the money for it. I can’t even afford a guitar. I play in pubs because they let me use their instruments. It doesn’t pay well—sometimes it’s just beer and food.”

There was no bitterness in your voice, just a quiet acceptance of the limitations around you. Your sincerity struck him, the kind of purity that came from believing the music was meant for you.

Someone bumped into your chair, jolting you forward slightly, but Noel steadied it instinctively. The sudden closeness let him take in every detail—the precise shade of your eyes, the soft scent of your hair.

To you, his blue eyes were striking and the lines at their corners adding a kind of rugged warmth…

"That’s exactly my point," he said softly. "You get paid, and I help you get heard. You deserve to be recognized for your work."

…

"Did you set up the record label for the girl?" Gem's tone carried a teasing edge, though Noel knew it was rooted in some truth.

"It’s not like that," Noel replied, his voice steady but undeniably warm. "She’s really good. You’ll meet her." The anticipation slipped through his words—unintended but undeniable. In just a few months, you’d be right in the middle of this whirlwind with him.

"And does she know what’s going on in your head?" Gem pressed. "Like, the reason for your soft tone and that silly grin when you mention her name? I might be wrong, but it doesn’t sound like you’re just thinking of her as a musician, Noel."

Noel shook his head, even though Gem couldn’t see him. "It’s nothing. I just want to help her with this." His words came out too quickly, like he was convincing himself. "Besides, I’m not at that stage; we don’t fit in the same place." Saying it aloud felt heavier than he expected.

"Don’t fit?" Gem’s laugh was low and knowing. "Mate, you’re not fooling anyone. You think I don’t know you? I know that tone—you’ve got her in your head. I’m just saying, be careful. If you don’t handle this right—"

"I know," Noel cut him off, his voice sharper.

The conversation shifted after that, as if the topic had been laid to rest. But Gem’s parting words lingered in Noel’s mind long after the call ended.

"Noel, I’m sure this will hurt you as much as it’d hurt her. You don’t deal well with this type of emotion. Your feelings will get in the way."

It stung because it might be true. But as Noel sat there, staring at the half-written lyrics scattered on the table, he found himself wondering if it would really be so bad—spending all that time with you, seeing where this road might lead. Even if it wasn’t the most practical idea, even if it felt reckless.

Could it really be so wrong to let himself hope?

…

You learned who he was and thought it might be a scam, but a simple Google search left you stunned. You were familiar with the band, though not with his exact current appearance. It certainly wasn’t like in the “Wonderwall” video anymore, but his more recent style—a dad vibe with a not-much-older kid—was charming in its own way. Your friends were happy for you, even if they were as incredulous as you.

You knew his songs and compositions, maybe not all of them, and you weren’t fully aware of how big he had been in the ’90s. Still, he was clearly someone famous who, by all logic, shouldn’t have been paying much attention to you. He had been handsome when he was young, and he was still attractive.

"He doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being nice to people. Are you sure it’s the same person?" Your roommate raised an eyebrow at you, her skepticism evident. You had watched a few interviews of his and noticed the same thing she mentioned— as well as his red-stone ring on his rough hand, the way his tongue darted across his lips. He was certainly not shy.

"I’m sure it’s him, and it seems like he’s only like that with the press. He wasn’t arrogant at all with me," you replied, swallowing hard. You wondered if you were an exception to his rule, but that thought felt too hopeful and premature.

"One night with him and you’re already defending this old man?" she teased, laughing as she grabbed her things and headed for the door. You shook your head, trying to convince both her and yourself. This was a losing game.

"Good luck, babe. You deserve to have your music recorded professionally," she added before disappearing into the street.

You still had your doubts—it all seemed too much. Your laptop sat open beside you, paused on a podcast of him. He was in profile, his skin smooth but showing the marks of time in a way that only added to him. He occasionally ran his fingers through his hair between breaths, and the open buttons of his shirt revealed just enough of his chest hair to be distracting. His voice was captivating, and his heavy accent made you want to stay there. Slowly, his presence wrapped around you like a blanket as you burrowed further under your own covers.

Your vision was blurry, yet sharp enough—what mattered was the certainty that you could recall everything, every detail. You could hear his breathing, close enough to feel its rhythm. His gaze, usually opaque, gained a quiet brightness as it trailed over your body, seated right in front of him.

You were wearing a button-up shirt in a deep ocean blue, a perfect match for the color of his eyes. You had seen the very same shirt on him hours earlier, in some old photoshoot. Now it was on you. It barely reached your knees, and the sleeves were so long they hid your hands entirely. You sat on the edge of the marble counter, its cold surface doing little to mask the fact that he was the one making you shiver.

Your knee brushed against his hip, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes held a calm warmth that made you feel at ease. His broad fingers brushed your wrist, the heat of his touch making your breath hitch slightly. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt utterly vulnerable to him.

His movements were delicate, fleeting, much like the night at the pub. He reached for the oversized sleeves of the shirt and carefully rolled them up, his motions deliberate, taking his time, then revealing your hands at last. He took one of them in his, lifting it to his lips.

He kissed your palm more than once, and the contrast of his growing stubble—rough and scratchy—and his soft lips made your breath catch again. Your mouth parted at the sensation, then your shoulders relaxed in a way that seemed to please him. It was only then, as if your ease was his permission, that he smiled.

He didn't say anything, but it didn't seem necessary. His fingertips touched your knee, gradually adding pressure. The rough calluses made you spread your legs before you needed to be told to. His touch moved up, bringing heat to your entire body, until they were invisible beneath your shirt.

“Mr. Gallagher," you sighed, the words slipping out in vain—you didn’t even know what you wanted. Your hand rested gently on his wrist, drawing an affectionate line there as your fingers idly played with the coarse hairs on his arm.

His eyes, fixed intently on you, seemed to promise he could take care of you, and yours, slowly but surely, found amusement in wandering across the expanse of his neck or the hair of his chest.

His scent was getting more immersive, and without rushing, his fingers were diving into you. You weren't stupid, you were aware of how wet you were, and Noel knew exactly what to expect. It didn't take much, it wasn't difficult, his fingers were thick and you didn't hesitate to swallow them. The abrupt and painful closing of your legs that came from the pleasure was avoided and that made everything more enjoyable.

He groaned muffledly, between his teeth, just watching you sigh heavily as you were struggling to keep yourself spread for him. He made you endure everything until the edge of the ring touched your skin, he held it there, watching your eyes water, until your legs trembled as he slowly moved his fingers and then removed them just so he could do that whole scene again.

You were so desperate that his fingers made that line of slime as they pulled out of you. He licked his lips at that, and without seeing where he was touching, you just felt the wet accumulation on your clit as he caressed you in light circles. It felt good, and made you think that boys your age weren't like that.

He continued, his face very close to yours and his scent making you dizzy. He added more pressure, his movements were continuous and unhurried, you couldn't help but let tears escape. You wanted to be good for him, you wanted to see him see that you knew how to behave. But, your body ached.

Your indignation was clear, yet he pulled his fingers away, which were as damp as before. You needed him. He brought the tips to his lips, the blue orbs still on you, who were sweaty and couldn't breathe like a normal human being, and licked them. His throat rose, his tongue made an approving noise, and before you could grab his wrist in protest, everything was getting blurrier.

You were sore, your legs weak, and your thighs damp. His voice still lingered in the background, softened words that felt like a melody, and you could distinctly catch his scent on the jacket he had given you that night—one you hadn’t been able to resist wearing ever since.

 Your mind slowly grasped your reality, your mouth growing dry, and it felt absurd. It wasn’t as if you wanted this to happen—there was no sense to it—but you could no longer push him out of that space in your mind.

…

“It’s quite big; will more people be coming here?” your voice echoed nervously through the studio as your fingertips froze. You had arrived a few weeks ago and had taken a few singing lessons that Noel had arranged with another professional, but now you feared he might become your only tutor moving forward.

[estro-gem]

Wet Jax doodle

He hates that he's an animal.

[biblical-chronicles]

New arrival

________________________________________

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

Pt.1 | Pt.2

________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi!” Liam protested, feigning offense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noel blinked, caught completely off-guard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________________________________

cute cute cute xxx

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

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

Pt. 2 here x

[bredforloyalty]

my sister lover / if we shadows / ballroom figured / born on a different cloud / slide away / you know we can't go back / guess god thinks i'm abel / lock all the doors / it's a crime / shout it out loud