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witchsfilm · 23 days ago

Text

The Masterplan pt. 2

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where Noel makes sure you end up as his.

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

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The next day Noel scheduled Liam to swing by for some loose-end business about four hours after you were meant to leave. That gave him plenty of time to enjoy his daily check-in with you and make sure you wouldn't cross paths with his brother.

He approached your studio, already anticipating the sound of your voice. It was becoming a comforting fixture in his day—something he’d never admit to you, of course. But as he drew closer, he heard something that instantly put him on edge: laughter. Yours, unmistakably, followed by a second voice—deep, familiar, and carefree.

Noel froze in the hallway, his mind racing. Liam. It had to be Liam. But what the hell was he doing here so early? His jaw tightened as he glanced up and down the corridor, ensuring no one was around to witness whatever was about to happen. Then, he leaned slightly toward your door, trying to see something—anything—through the keyhole.

Nothing. The angle was all wrong, and he cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Fine. If he couldn’t spy, he’d have to go in. Straightening his posture, he knocked sharply on the door and waited.

You opened it, your face lighting up with a smile when you saw him. “Oh, hi, Noel! Didn’t expect you just yet.”

From inside the room, Liam’s voice rang out: “Oh, is that my little sad case of a brother? Thought I smelled bitterness in the air!”

Noel’s eye twitched, but he plastered on a tight-lipped smirk. He leaned casually against the doorframe, ignoring Liam’s jab. “Liam,” he said evenly, “weren’t you supposed to be here in, oh, I don’t know in around four hours or so?”

Liam appeared behind you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah, well, thought I’d do you a favour, didn’t I? Could’ve flaked altogether, but here I am, blessin’ you with me presence earlier so I can devote the rest of me evening to the boozer.”

He then turned his attention to you, his eyes raking you up and down with a grin that Noel wanted to smack clean off his face. “If you told me you’ve got such fit birds hangin’ around here, I’d’ve been stoppin’ by way earlier.”

You laughed, caught off guard by Liam’s comment. “Well, I guess it’s good you decided to come in today, then.” you replied, amused.

Noel’s stomach twisted at the sound of your laughter. He forced himself to keep his composure, though his fingers curled into a fist at his side. “Right,” he said curtly, stepping further into the room. “Liam, if you don’t mind, let’s take this conversation elsewhere, yeah? Got a couple things to go over before you... bless the pub with your presence.”

Liam smirked knowingly, clearly aware of the tension he was stirring. “Oh, alright then. Don’t wanna keep you waiting, do I? Catch ya later, love.” he added, throwing a wink in your direction as he followed Noel out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind them, Noel grabbed Liam by the arm and steered him down the hallway toward his own studio. His grip was firm, borderline aggressive, but Liam just chuckled, letting himself be dragged along.

Once inside Noel’s studio, Noel shut the door with a sharp click and rounded on Liam. “What the fuck are you playin’ at?” he hissed, his voice low but dangerously pointed.

“What d’you mean?” Liam asked, feigning innocence as he flopped onto the couch. “Just tryin’ to make conversation, mate.”

“Conversation?” Noel repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “You stroll in hours early, start chattin’ up me—” He stopped himself, realizing the trap he’d almost fallen into. “Me studio mate, and you think that’s just fine, yeah?”

Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, so she’s ‘yours’ now, is she? Didn’t know we were callin’ dibs these days.”

Noel rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She’s not ‘mine.’ Just don’t want you scarin’ her off with your bollocks, alright?”

“Scarin’ her off?” Liam laughed. “She seemed fine to me. Actually, she seemed to be enjoyin’ herself.”

“Yeah, well, don’t push your luck,” Noel snapped. “I’ve got a rhythm goin’ here, and I don’t need you fuckin’ it up.”

Liam leaned back, folding his arms behind his head with a shit-eating grin. “Ah, so that’s what this is. You’re sweet on her. Poor lass. Hasn’t got a clue what she’s gettin’ into, does she?”

Noel shot him a glare. “Don’t you have a pub to get to?”

Liam chuckled, standing up and heading toward the door. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to your... rhythm. But Noel,” he added, pausing with a smirk, “if you’re plannin’ to make a move, you’d better hurry up, hate to see you get outplayed.”

With that, he sauntered off, leaving Noel standing there, fuming. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Noel just sat in his studio after Liam’s earlier theatrics, thoughts running through his head. It wasn’t just irritation gnawing at him—it was urgency. Liam had thrown him off his game, and for the first time since he’d set his plan into motion, Noel felt an itch of doubt. What if you started fancying his brother? Liam had charm, sure, but it was the loud, reckless kind. People fell for it all the time. Noel couldn’t let that happen.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t just claim you outright—too obvious. You weren’t there yet, not with him. But Liam’s actions had planted a seed of paranoia. Noel smirked bitterly to himself but after a while a new idea blossomed in his mind.

When lunch hour rolled around, he slipped out of his studio and headed toward the lounge. He made a show of brewing himself a tea, the mundane act giving him a sense of control as he waited. Sure enough, your manager wandered in a few minutes later, his predictable routine making him easy to catch.

“Alright, Noel.” your manager greeted, moving toward the kettle.

“Alright.” Noel replied, giving a polite nod. He sipped his brew, watching the man out of the corner of his eye.

As expected, your manager didn’t take long to bring up the one topic Noel had anticipated. “You know, I’ve been pushing her a bit harder like you said,” he said, stirring sugar into his cup. “She’s getting more publicity now—good buzz around her gigs, even a few mentions in the papers.”

Noel nodded, feigning casual approval. “Told you, mate. She’s got summat special. People just need to see it.”

Your manager sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, but she still needs that... push, y’know? Something to really catch fire. She’s not exactly front page material yet.”

Noel’s grip on his mug tightened. That was exactly what he needed to hear. He kept his expression neutral, though his mind was already racing. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

“Sometimes it’s not about talent, is it?” Noel said, his tone deliberate. “It’s about the story. People love a story. Might be worth thinkin’ about how you can sell that angle.”

Your manager nodded thoughtfully, clearly mulling it over. “You’re not wrong. She’s got the talent and looks, no doubt, but yeah, maybe we need to package it better. Thanks, Noel. Always good to get your perspective.”

“Anytime,” Noel said with a small smile. “Good luck with it, yeah?”

Your manager gave him a wave and left the lounge. Noel finished his tea, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Back in his studio, he settled in to wait. Hours ticked by, but Noel didn’t mind.

When he heard a soft knock on his door, followed by your familiar voice calling his name, he already knew. He stood and opened it to find you standing there, your eyes glassy and rimmed red.

“Hey,” you said softly, and before he could even ask what was wrong, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

For a moment, Noel froze, caught off guard by the sudden contact. Then he softened, his arms coming up to hold you close. “What’s all this about?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your expression crumpling. “It’s stupid,” you said, shaking your head. “I didn’t know where else to go, and you’ve been so helpful already, and—god, I’m sorry for dumping this on you.”

“Hey, don’t be daft,” Noel said, his tone firm but gentle. He guided you to the small couch in his studio, sitting down beside you. “Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands fiddling with the hem of your jumper. “It’s me manager. He’s been pushing me harder, which I get—I really do—but now he’s talking about needing some kind of... big moment to make me stand out. Summat headline worthy.”

Noel tilted his head, a concerned frown on his face. “That’s a lot to put on you.”

You nodded, your voice cracking as you continued. “I just feel so... lost. I don’t know what he expects me to do. I’m an artist, not some circus act.”

He reached out, covering your fidgeting hands with his own. “You’re right, it’s bollocks,” he said earnestly. “But you’ll figure it out. You’re too good not to.”

You managed a small smile through your tears. “Thanks, Noel. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice low as he gave your hands a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got people in your corner. You’ve got me.”

You blinked at him, surprised, but the warmth in his gaze eased the knot in your chest. “Thanks.” you murmured again, leaning into him for comfort.

As you nestled in Noel’s arms, the tears slowed, his calm demeanor grounding you in a way that surprised you. He hadn’t let go, and truth be told, you didn’t want him to. His hands were steady on your back, his voice low and soothing as he murmured reassurances.

Noel was silently elated, his mind reeling at the feeling of having you this close. The faint scent of your shampoo, the way your body relaxed slightly against his—it was intoxicating.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual. “I might have an idea for those headlines they’re after.”

You shifted slightly in his arms to look up at him, your brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, a flicker of nerves passing through him. He had to play this just right. “How about... a PR stunt relationship? That sort of thing always grabs attention.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you didn’t respond, just staring at him. Noel’s heart skipped a beat. Shit. Too soon. Too bloody much. But before he could backpedal, you spoke.

“Actually... that could work,” you said slowly, your voice thoughtful. “But the thing is, I wouldn’t even know who to ask. And I’d hate to fake a relationship with someone I don’t like as a person.”

Noel felt a wave of relief, he couldn’t have scripted this better if he’d tried. He shrugged, keeping his tone easy and nonchalant despite the hammering in his chest.

“Well,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “I’m not a stranger, am I? And you don’t seem to hate me.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you laughed, the sound light and incredulous. “No way,” you said, shaking your head. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” he countered, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze. “I’ve already got the name recognition. It’d be easy for the press to spin. And we get on, don’t we?”

You studied him for a moment, searching his face. His expression was sincere. “I mean... you’re not wrong,” you admitted, though you still sounded unsure.

Noel took your hesitation as his cue to lean in, sealing the deal. “It doesn’t have to be a big thing. Just enough to get people talking. Besides,” he added, his voice dipping to a softer, almost conspiratorial tone, “I’d make sure it’s easy for you. No strangers. No awkward bollocks. Just us.”

The simplicity of it made sense, and before you could overthink it, you found yourself nodding. “Alright,” you said, almost in disbelief. “But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.” Noel said quickly, his lips curving into a triumphant smile. When you leaned in and hugged him tightly again, he closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

As the two of you left the studio together, the air between you felt lighter. Noel’s hand brushed yours, and he hesitated for a moment before boldly reaching out to take it. You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, but you didn’t pull away.

The streets were quiet, the golden hour light painting everything in a soft glow. Neither of you spoke much, but the silence was comfortable. That was, until a stray reporter appeared around the corner, camera in hand.

Noel tensed slightly, his grip on your hand tightening instinctively. “Well, there’s your first headline,” he muttered under his breath.

But to his shock, you stopped walking, turned to him, and—without warning—leaned in to kiss him.

Noel’s brain short-circuited. For a moment, he was frozen, too stunned to move. But the second he felt the warmth of your lips on his, his hands found their place on your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back. His heart pounded so hard it was a wonder you couldn’t hear it.

When you pulled back, a little breathless but grinning, you looked at him like nothing had just happened. “There. Now it’s more convincing.”

Noel couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across his face. “You’re bloody brilliant, you are,” he said, still slightly dazed.

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oh things are gettin' more interesting you lot, still I'd be more than keen on gettin' manipulated by Noel

hope you liked it, and tomorrow I promise I'll be posting earlier xx

love ya !!

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witchsfilm · 25 days ago

Text

T-shirt

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where some scribbles on your t-shirt cause quite the commotion.

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The gig had gone off without a hitch, you poured everything into it, and by the time you stepped offstage, a pleasant buzz of adrenaline—and the couple of drinks you’d knocked back after—had settled over you. All you wanted now was a cigarette and a bit of quiet before you headed home.

You slipped out the back door of the venue, thinking you’d find peace in the cool night air. Instead, you were greeted by the harsh glare of flashbulbs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” you muttered under your breath, realizing too late that sneaking off was no longer an option. The reporters had spotted you.

You plastered on a faint smile, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as they started hurling questions your way.

“What did you think of the crowd tonight?”

“Any plans for an album release?”

And then, predictably: “Tell us about your shirt!”

You glanced down at your tee, forgetting for a moment what you’d thrown on before the show. Then you read the scrawled sharpie letters across your chest: “I am tired of pretending Liam Gallagher isn’t fit.”

You laughed, exhaling a plume of smoke as you leaned casually against the wall. “Oh, yeah. This one’s good, isn’t it?”

The reporters immediately livened up. “But is it true? Do you really think Liam Gallagher is fit?”

“Of course I do,” you said without hesitation, a grin tugging at your lips. “He’s amazing, no?”

There was a murmur of excitement, the press sensing they’d struck gold. Cameras clicked, and a few notepads appeared as they pressed further. “Can you elaborate on that?”

Whether it was the booze, the post-show high, or just your general cheeky nature, you decided to lean into it.

“Well,” you started, taking another drag from your cigarette, “first off, he’s funny as hell. I mean, have you seen his Twitter? Absolute goldmine.”

The reporters chuckled, encouraging you to continue.

“And his hair,” you said, gesturing vaguely around your own head. “Looks good messy, looks good done up—bloke can’t lose.”

They scribbled furiously, and you felt the alcohol loosening your tongue even more. “Oh, and his nose—have you noticed? It’s got that little curve to it, just perfect. And those eyes! You know, how they droop just a bit? Makes him look like a sad puppy sometimes, but in a good way. Dead adorable.”

You couldn’t help laughing at yourself, waving your cigarette around as you spoke. “I mean, come on, he’s Liam bloody Gallagher. You’re lying to yourself if you say you don’t get it.”

The press ate it up, cameras snapping as they prodded for more. “So, is this shirt part of your usual marketing? Do you think it’ll get his attention?”

You shrugged, still laughing. “Who knows? I just thought it was funny, alright? People like a bit of a laugh. Keeps things interesting.”

Deep down, you didn’t think much would come of it. You were still a small-time artist playing modest gigs, and while your shirts had started getting a bit of buzz, it wasn’t like you were front-page news material. This was just another silly moment, a way to keep yourself entertained as much as anyone else.

“Alright, that’s enough.” you finally said, stubbing out your cigarette and flashing them a playful grin. “You lot are vultures, you know that? Don’t be twisting me words too much, yeah?”

They laughed as you turned and headed back inside, not quite realizing the small storm you’d just set in motion.

You weren’t entirely sure when the interview clips started popping up all over the internet—your phone buzzed incessantly with notifications, and every time you dared to open an app, there it was. Your little drunken ode to Liam Gallagher’s undeniable charm had gone quite viral.

People were having a laugh about it, of course. Some were amused by your chaotic energy, others were calling for you to release the shirt as merch, and a few had started tagging Liam's account under the posts.

“Why the fuck did I do that?” you groaned to yourself, flopping onto the couch and burying your face in a cushion. “I need to lay off the bloody marching powder. Christ.”

You peeked at your phone again, scrolling through the endless messages. Friends sending cheeky messages, journalists requesting follow-ups, and fans tagging you in memes, which you had to admit were quite funny.

You chucked your phone across the couch, groaning again. “What’s done is done.” you thought. “Any publicity is good publicity, right?”

You decided to let the internet have its fun and try your best to ignore it. You weren’t going to respond, explain, or elaborate. It was out of your hands now, and honestly, it wasn’t like you’d been lying, anyway. Liam was fit.

“Alright, enough of this,” you said, forcing yourself off the couch. “Pub tonight. Focus on real life.”

You got yourself ready, throwing on something casual, nothing that screamed Look at me! I’m the girl who called Liam Gallagher a fit and adorable puppy!

When you arrived at the pub, your friends were already waiting at a booth near the back, pints in hand.

“There she is!” one of your mates said with a grin. “The internet’s newest sensation.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “Don’t. Please.”

“Oh, come on, it’s brilliant!” another chimed in. “You’ve gone and made yourself unforgettable. Do you know how hard that is?”

“Unforgettable for what, though?” you said, lifting your head. “Ranting about Liam Gallagher’s bloody nose? Jesus, they’re going to carve that on me gravestone.”

They all burst out laughing, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“At least it’s getting people talking,” one of them said, raising their pint. “Here’s to accidental genius.”

You clinked your glass with theirs, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment. After all, they were right in a way—people were talking.

Soon, all of you settled and moved on from the topic, discussing anything and everything.

Then one of your friends suddenly froze mid-laugh, her eyes going wide as she stared over your shoulder. “No fucking way,” she whispered, slack-jawed.

“What?” you asked, alarmed.

She didn’t answer, just started pointing dramatically toward the bar. A chorus of gasps erupted from the rest of the table as they followed suit, all of them gesturing and whispering excitedly.

“Alright, what the hell’s going on?” you said, whipping your head around to follow their line of sight. At first, you couldn’t tell what they were pointing at—just a sea of people with pints in hand. Then you spotted him.

It wasn’t immediately obvious in the dim light, but the silhouette was unmistakable. It looked just like Liam Gallagher.

You froze for half a second, then whipped back around, smacking everyone's hands down. “Shut it!” you hissed, your voice an urgent whisper. “What is wrong with you lot?”

They burst into laughter, completely ignoring your attempts to calm them down.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” one of them managed to say between cackles. “It’s actually him!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t even properly see from here! It might not even be him. Why would Liam Gallagher be here? Of all places?”

“This is a popular pub,” one of them pointed out with a grin. “Why wouldn’t he be here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Even if it is him, why would he recognize me? He probably hasn’t even seen the stupid interview.”

“Are you joking? It’s everywhere!” another friend chimed in. “If he hasn’t seen it, someone’s definitely shown him. And now he’s here. Coincidence? I think not.”

“Stop it,” you groaned, sinking lower into your seat. “Seriously, let it go. It’s probably not even him. Just leave it, yeah?”

But one of your mates just grinned mischievously, stood up, and smoothed out her shirt. “Right, I’m gonna go check.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you hissed, reaching out to grab her hand, but she was too quick, slipping out of your grasp.

The rest of the table absolutely lost it, howling with laughter as your heart raced. “What do I do?” you muttered, looking at the remaining friends. “Do I go and try to stop her, or do I just peg it out of here before this gets worse?”

“You’re not running anywhere,” one of them said through tears of laughter. “This is gold. Just sit tight and enjoy this.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but it didn’t stop you from sneaking glances toward the bar. Your friend was chatting animatedly with the Liam-like figure, gesturing wildly in your direction. You wished the ground would swallow you whole.

Eventually, she returned to the table, plopping into her seat and taking a triumphant swig of her drink.

“Well?” one of the others asked eagerly.

She leaned in, her grin somehow widening. “Guess what? He did see it. And he appreciates it.” She looked directly at you, practically vibrating with happiness. “And, get this—he’d love to hear you elaborate on it.”

Your face turned so red you felt like a human traffic light. “You’re joking.” you muttered, voice barely audible.

“Nope,” she said. “Said it himself. Very keen, apparently.”

The table erupted into a mix of cheers and laughter, and you sat there, mortified, wishing for nothing more than to evaporate into thin air.

As the night wore on, you did your best to laugh it off, throwing yourself into the drinks and chatter. But every time you thought you’d escaped it, someone would bring it up again, and the heat in your cheeks would return tenfold.

At one point, you excused yourself to the toilet, needing a moment to breathe. Standing in line, you stared at the floor, not paying attention to much of anything, when a voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Alright, love?”

You blinked, looking up—and nearly choked on your own breath. It was him. Liam bloody Gallagher, standing there like he hadn’t just thrown your entire night into chaos.

“Oh,” you stammered, heart pounding. “Uh, hi. I’m so sorry, me mate was mithering ya earlier. She’s a nightmare.”

He smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “Don’t mind that. Not every day someone calls me an adorable puppy, is it?”

Your face went beet red. “Oh God, you heard that bit too?”

“Course I did. Hard to miss when it’s all over the place, innit?” His grin was equal parts amused and mischievous. “So, what’s the verdict then? You mean it or what?”

You let out a nervous laugh, your brain scrambling for a response. “Please don’t make me say it. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Aye, you’re funny, you are.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing ever so slightly. “Well, thanks, I think?”

He tilted his head, still smirking. “But seriously though, did you mean it? Or was it just a bit of a laugh?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Do I have to answer that? Feels like a trap.”

He grinned even wider. “Nah, no trap. Just curious.”

After a moment of hesitation, you met his gaze. “Alright, fine. Yeah, I meant it. Happy now?”

“Over the moon.” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands again, and he laughed, like he was having the time of his life.

“Come on then,” he said, nudging you gently. “You’ll be alright. But if you’re gonna call someone a cute puppy, be ready to back it up, yeah?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Noted.”

Liam leaned back slightly, studying you with that same amused smirk. “Tell you what, love. How about we forget the queue and step outside for a bit? Bit of fresh air, away from all this noise.”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Alright, yeah. Let’s do that.”

He gestured for you to lead the way, and you navigated through the crowd toward the back exit. The chilly night air hit you as you stepped out, a welcome change from the stuffy warmth inside. Liam followed close behind, lighting a cigarette and offering you one.

You took it, your hands trembling slightly, though you weren’t sure if it was the cold or his presence.

The two of you talked, the conversation flowing naturally. He was funny and surprisingly easy to talk to. You two actually seemed to click quite well, the awkwardness melting away as he shared ridiculous stories and threw in the occasional cheeky remark.

At some point, the laughter softened, replaced by a comfortable silence. Liam tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you. “You know,” he said, his voice low, “you’re somethin’ else. Never thought I’d end up out here like this tonight, but I’m not complainin’.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again, but before you could respond, he leaned in. The kiss was sudden but soft, his hand resting gently on your waist as he pulled you closer. You froze for half a second, then melted into it, your hands finding their way to his jacket.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How about you give this adorable puppy with the good nose or whatever you said a proper chance then?”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his smirk returning. “I don’t go around kissin’ just anyone, you know. Even if they do write mad things about me on their shirts.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, light and giddy. “Okay, fine. Yeah, I’ll give you a chance. But only if you let me make a T-shirt for you, too.”

His grin widened. “Oh yeah? What’s it gonna say then?”

You pretended to think for a moment, then leaned in to kiss him again, smiling against his lips. “I’ll think of summat good.”

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this time summat that I wanted to scribble down, so hope you lot like it!!

and no worries, I will be back on requests xx

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