KitKat

── .✦ imessage

The fam 😎🤘🏻💙💙💙💗💗 (5 people)

Mum:

Pretty sure he went all the way there just to fart.

Dad:

Next time i’m gonna do it on your face, dickhead

Mum:

Aha!!!! So you did go there to do it

── .✦

Mum:

Here comes the sun!!! Good morning ❤️

── .✦

Noel ❤️ (2 messages on your private chat)

Waiting and waiting and waiting…

American football is quite fun actually. Props to your home land

You:

Hiiiiii

I miss you

This party is so boring without you 😔 their wine is mega though

Noel ❤️:

Fuuuuuuuuck me…

You:

What?

Noel ❤️:

Nothing. Just drooled all over my shirt

You:

Aw, shame. Thought you actually wanted me to fuck you

Noel ❤️:

Christ. Don’t say stuff like that

Got no fucking clue how badly

── .✦

You:

You’re very sweet.

Noel ❤️:

Yes I am

And I miss you lots.

── .✦ instagram

anais_gallagher: Mum’s obsessed with her flowers. Dad’s obsessed with mum. Goals.

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ynln: Missing this little bastard today.

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themightyi: Check out this very humble artist doing some research… she even asked me if I wanted to check it out. Told her to google me. Ha ! 😎

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ynln: If being too cocky was a crime, I’d SURELY visit you in jail, my love. ❤️

ynln: Could he take up ANY less space?? 🙄 His lap it is then, I guess.

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themightyi: Ha. Mission accomplished.

themightyi: Gig night with the prettiest girl around. Music was good, merch is debatable, and the drummer looks… oddly familiar… 🤔

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ynln: May the fourth be with you. Eat this, Princess Leia! My boyfriend is way way WAY fitter 😘 PS: No offense Harrison Ford, we adore you to bits around our house, you’re invited to dinner if you’d like 👍🏻

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themightyi: Asked this fit DJ assistant to play the newest Noel Gallagher High flying birds album (that’s been on the charts for a MONTH by the way.…) She gave me this weird look to intimidate me. Too bad for her, now i’ve got a hard on

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ynln: My god noel delete this RIGHT NOW!!!

billboard: Lovers and musical legends since the nineties, this remarkable couple electrified Royal Albert Hall in support of tonight’s Teenage Cancer Trust event.

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cosmopolitan: Another bucket list wish crossed off the talented Olivia Rodrigo’s list! The young artist and America’s favorite frontwoman since the 90s (and eternal cool girl and rock legend) shared the stage in a captivating medley at tonight’s Grammy Awards. Rodrigo has shown longtime admiration for the musician, who has reciprocated the same energy since the debut of SOUR: “I think she’s incredible. I never get tired of seeing younger girls take up space in such a hard industry, and she’s actually very good. Lovely voice, she seems very smart and her talented for songwriting goes without saying. I hope the f**king sexist knobheads who were around in the nineties are dead by now and don’t give her a hard time.” Her husband, Noel Gallagher, was also in attendance. And though pop music isn’t quite his cup of tea, he also praised the young artist: “My daughter adores her, and my missus has been working with her quite a lot. She’s a lovely girl and if I was a teenage girl I’d probably be screaming my lungs off for her, as well.”

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★ 2022.

"fruit. and plain yogurt."

"even if you're hungover?" matt asks with a small raise of his brows.

noel nods. "yeah, yeah, i'm a man of routine. i never break the routine. and, uh— three pieces of toast."

"every day?" matt says, a little baffled.

noel shakes his head once and gesticulates with his hand. the way he always does. "can't begin to tell ya how much of a creature of habit i am. i eat the same things every day, i do the same workouts every day, i—“

"hang on a minute." matt cuts in.

"what?" noel asks with a small tilt of his head – the way that always earns a small ‘aw’ from you, followed by hands grabbing his cheeks while you say he looks like a cute puppy. thank goodness you’re not here now. not in front of the cameras, for heaven’s sake!

"'what?' i ask you what, you work out? since when?" matt teases.

noel sighed, fighting a smile from growing on his face just because he was commited to the bit now. “wife’s making me do it.”

matt clicks his tongue, shaking his head once. “the old ball and chain.” he adds dryly, despite having admitted a few times during drinks at the firehouse that he might actually like you more than he likes noel.

“yeah, yeah...”

"how did she convince you?"

noel tilted his head, taking a breath in and parting his lips as his eyes squinted. what looks like a man getting ready to speak is actually noel coming up with a story. one that's not fully fake, but he couldn't tell the whole fucking truth, could he?

the one hundred percent truthful story started at the night of your 50th birthday.

for noel, the cheekiness started even as you were getting ready. he never really minded waiting for you to finish getting ready, since it always came with one hell of a view.

that night, a black dress was cladded around your body. the same body you complained about once in a while – most times disguised as jokes.

jokes about that annoying little pouch that wouldn't really go away no matter how many spinach you ate, or that little squishy part of your arms the kids would absentmindedly hold onto as "team NG" strolled down the streets, post dinners in the middle of the high flying birds tour.

the same body that noel had always been mad about, even when he couldn't really admit it for numerous reasons – pride, stupid american versus british rivalry, thinking you're annoying, you thinking he's even more annoying, etc etc.

you two would laughed about your past years later. and during those years, he made sure that not a single inch of that body would go on without being absolutely worshiped. which is how it ended up becoming the body that carried his three children. christ, thist last one did his head in every damn time.

his shoulder was rested against the doorway just like the top of his head, tilted, as his gaze shifted from your back to your face in the mirror’s reflection more times than he could count.

looking at his expression in the mirror, you breathed out a little laugh at it. "you always do that." your tone fond, followed by the soft clasp sound of your earring.

he smirked, pushing off the doorway and slowly making his way closer to you. "do what?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"look at me like that." you replied, smiling a little wider the moment his hands settled on your hips, his chest softly pressing against your back.

"well..." he started, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the side of your head, the tip of his nose burying inside your hair for a moment and immediately inhaling slowly, because when didn't he? then, noel rested his chin on your shoulder, finishing his point like it was the most simple thing in the world. "you could always try looking less sexy."

you chuckled, shaking your head and clasping the remaining pair of the gold jewelry. his smile grew wider at the sound, temple resting beside yours and his hands absentmindedly rubbing up and down, following the curve of your waist. "look fucking mental, yknow." he praised quietly, softly squeezing your sides for emphasis.

you hummed, hands reaching for his and shifting until his arms were properly wrapped around your torso. your eyes followed your own palms caressing his forearms in the reflection, while his blue gaze stayed in your face. it always did.

"will you still love me when i start my middle age crisis?" you joked.

he snorted. "'when you start?' what was last year's gardening all about?"

"hey,” you laughed, giving his hand a light slap. “you didn't complain when your tea always had fresh and organic mint leaves in it, you dick."

he chuckled, leaning down and giving your shoulder a playful bite at the same time his palms gave your asscheeks little 'let's go' pats, taking a small step behind. "you're all done?" he asked anyway.

"yup." still smiling, your hands went to the hair strands that framed your face, giving them one last tiny swoosh before you're off.

right. well, that's a part of the story noel could've told.

however, the rest of the night – to be blamed by the strong drinks and, allegedly, the way noel's hands stayed on his missus the whole night – was better left unsaid.

he's learned that after years of publicly being cheeky followed by an immediate swat of your hand on the back of his head. "the kids, dickhead!" with an exasperated tone to your voice that, in his opinion, sounded cute even when you scolded him.

you're right, though. the public information of what their parents were up to in the 90's it's enough as it is. you two surely can at least make an effort keep it more pg-13 now.

so, no mentioning in a radio interview how you two snogged in the car the whole way back. the alcohol running through your veins the same way your hand traced the outline of him over his pants, feeling it harden underneath your touch even though it took a little longer now. you smirked against his lips, fingers tracing circles around his tip, earning a needy groan pouring inside your mouth, while his chubby fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your thigh.

no mentioning how good you looked with his cock inside your mouth even after all this time. or how you looked even better now, if that was even possible. still cocky and still looking at him like he was sex in the shape of a man – a slightly chubbier one now, sure. but fuck me, he couldn't possibly mind when you looked like that. knickers still on, knees deep into the mattress and ass arched up so he could see them.

and your fucking eyes, god. the way they looked at him all droopy and needy whenever his fist would tighten inside your hair. how your brows furrowed in that pretty way whenever his free hand stroked your cheek before giving it tiny, mocking slaps. the way your eyes fluttered shut whenever his hips thrusted up.

and definitely not mention the way he dragged you back up and kissed you eagerly, tasting your smudged lipstick as you straddled his bare cock – moaning as you grinded your covered cunt over his throbbing length.

and, well, he knows a round two isn't as easy for a fifty-five year old noel as it was for the thirty-something-year old version of him. so cumming in his underwear and leaving his wife all high and dry on her birthday? would be a fucking crime, that.

what can you do? that's fucking life for you. nature doesn't make exceptions even for those who have given humankind a masterpiece like "definitely maybe".

that's why the real, real reason to noel's – and yours – new gym habits is only known to the both of you.

because as you were riding him – panties fabric shoved to the side, skins glistening with sweat, lips slick from spit and swollen from kissing – you started to slow down.

your jagged breathing mixed with moans, progressively becoming shakier as you slowly stopped. he kissed you despite the absence of friction, your tits staying pressed over his, heaving a little harder from the “exercise.”

all while his hands kept soothing you, rubbing up and down on the curve of your ass. you moaned softly at the tenderness, hands going up to his cheeks, that were softer now, and cradling him as you kissed him back.

he breathed out a laugh the second you clenched around him, breaking the kiss and making you weakly whimper against his mouth. "you okay?" he asked softly, hands still lingering, sliding over your asscheeks all the way to your lower back.

you slowly rocked over him despite it all, in a way that didn't take that much energy and still felt good. slow and gentle. intimate. a dazed smile grew on your lips at a low pleased hum he let out, feeling his hand squeeze your hip like a silent praise, the touch you know it means a "that feels nice."

then, the phrase left your lips.

"we used to be young, noel..."

he laughed properly at it then. his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer, his flushed face burying on the side of your neck while he still twitched inside you.

you laughed too. "don't laugh! i'm serious." even though your hand squeezed his arm – still, gladly leaning into the embrace.

"we're still alive and breathing, aren't we?" the positive words he saved for you despite the historical grumpy-gallagher persona didn't stop you from carrying on your moaning. not the usual moaning for... this particular activity you're engaged in right now.

"i used to... be able to ride you. for hours and hours."

"hm. did ya." he teased.

"well," you started, kissing his cheekbone and feeling the corner of his eyes crinkle up underneath the tip of your nose, same way it did whenever he smiled. "hours and hours is humanly impossible, but... definitely more than now." you slurred lightly, honest.

he laughed, fingers curling on the back of your neck and bringing you mouth to his, shutting you right up with a confident kiss.

you moaned into it, eyebrows furrowing softly and ass arching upwards like a cat in heat at the feeling of his free hand gave it another squeeze.

"yeah?..." he teased barely above a whisper, not even fully pulling away from the kiss, pushing his hips up.

you moaned in response, breathy and already dumb with the feeling of his hand slowly moving you up and down over his lenght. you nodded slowly, lips parted and eyes all needy. his teeth nibbled your bottom lip slowly, the quiet words brushing your warm skin, "yeah?..."

you moaned, "f-fuck. yeah..."

he hummed, slowly shifting until you were the one with your back on the mattress now. his belly pressed against your stomach as he pushed his hips foward, feeling your nails dig in his upper back once his tip pressing against your cervix. he leaned in closer to your ear, lips curled into a smug smirk as his hips moved back and foward teasingly slow.

"think we still got a few good years left in us yet, love." his tone is low, mouth brushing your earlobe, softly bumping over the gold earring he's gifted you a few years back. he smiles against your skin, "gonna make sure my birthday girl enjoys 'em, hm?"

he's a right lazy bastard, but c'mon now. that's the least he can do on your special day.

that's why he kept thrusting into you, even though that felt like a workout at his age – a good one, at least. his mouth kept kissing your neck, moaning in your ear and babbling all the dirty things he knew would you loved, especially when drunk and needy.

his hand traveled downwards, clumsily finding your clit, rubbing in sloppy circles while he fucked you. hitting that spot that always made you wrap your legs tightly around his hips and pull him impossibly closer.

and even though you two came at the same time, noel knew he couldn't quite call it a night just yet.

since he couldn't physically go for another round this fast without the help of a little blue pill, his mouth dragged down your torso with slow, wet kisses until his lips found your swollen clit.

his hands remained firm on your thighs, spreading them open, getting even drunker on your taste mixed with his. his eyes stayed on you, droopy and red by now, but attentive as ever – the view made him kiss your cunt even greedier, sliding two fingers inside your entrance while lowly muttering "one more, can y'do that f'me, darling?"

smirking. of fucking course he was. couldn't not do it, not when you nodded in that way that always gave away how gone you already were, fingers tugging on the soft and gray locks that drove you truly mad.

his head was still spinning afterwards, smirking as he finally shifted upwards, settling close to you. over you, actually – practically flattening you beneath him in a way he used to be cautious about, but completely unapologetic ever since that one time you said it was "comfy. like a weighted blanket."

he immediately laughed. "y'calling me fat?" he had taken the piss, but still didn’t move an inch. mostly because he couldn't – your arms had already wrapped around him, keeping him exactly where you wanted him.

clingy little thing. just like this moment, with older bodies, softer around the edges but still interlaced in messy sheets – the same way they had been ever since the very first night.

well, first time in a bed, at least... the car was too remarkable to forget.

"love you," you mumbled into his neck.

his eyes were already closing, but there was a faint smile on his lips either way. "yeah, yeah."

you laughed, hugging him tighter.

a beat later, "love you too."

and then sleep claimed both of you.

the middle age crisis hit you hard, apparently. because the next morning – where you were supposed to have a hangover just as bad as his – noel woke up with the smell of body soap pleasantly filling the room and your hand unpleasantly tugging the curtains open, allowing the 7am sunlight to disturb his sleep.

his whole face scrunched up in a way you almost felt bad, immediately dragging a pillow over his face like that would shield him from... whatever was wrong with you.

but the kids had already gone off to school and you were far too motivated for someone that was fifty years old.

so you ignored him, of course. the mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed again, freshly showered and suspiciously energetic.

"noel." your hand reached out, softly shaking his shoulder.

it earned you a grunt from him.

you shook him again, "noel, baby."

he groaned louder this time. you laughed at it, leaning down, hand reaching to move the pillow off his face – and instantly replacing the soft cushion with your lips, pampering his soft cheeks with kisses. "rise and shine." you muttered against his skin.

"fuck off." was the immediate reply from him. his voice still raspy from sleep.

you laughed again, straigthening your back and softly shaking him again, "noel!"

only then his eyes opened, still squinting at you. gym clothes. hair tied in a ponytail. most likely already wearing trainers. and smiling like a fucking psychopath.

"good morning..." you said sweetly, palm sliding over his shoulders. yeah, suspiciously sweet now.

"morning." he replied.

you smiled, a beat of silence before you gently spoke. "thought we'd go for a run."

he scoffed, eyebrows raising automatically and eyes closing again. the pillow was brought back to his face to muffle down his incredulous laugh. you immediately took it away again, laughing too.

"a run." he said, baffled.

"yeah."

"a run."

"that's what i said, yeah."

he stared at you. you stared back, head tilting just for charm. didn't really work, because he pointed toward the door. "get out." he rasped, closing his eyes again and shifting into a more comfortable position.

you leaned down despite his protests, giggling as you kissed his forehead. "you'll feel better afterwards..."

he smiled despite himself, but still didn't give his arm to twist. "i feel pretty alright now, actually."

you smiled against his skin, placing a kiss on the big bridge of his nose now. "you'll feel better."

"nah, fuck that."

another kiss, now on his left cheek. "please?"

"no."

a kiss on his right cheek now, while your leg slowly shifted until it was beside his hip, the other staying on the other side as you comfortably straddled him. "please…”

his eyebrows immediately furrowed, he's a weak man and he knows it. his hands slowly shifted until they settled over your hips, feeling the soft gym fabric underneath his palm. "that's not fucking fair."

you kissed his jaw. "please."

"no."

the corner of his mouth, humming softly. "please."

"not a chance."

"i'll do anything."

he breathed out a laugh. "you already let me do anything." hands squeezing your hips like he's making a point, not even bothering to open his eyes again

“no, noel… anything.” you repeated, tone dipping now.

now his eyes opened. and he blinked, head still a little fuzzy, feeling it get even worse with the sight of you breaking into a cheeky little smile, head tilting. charming bastard, he thought.

he sighed, “give me five minutes.”

── .✦

so, that's the real beggining of it all.

“well, i have high blood pressure and some gobshite doctor told her exercise is necessary, so.” noel replied simply to matt.

matt scoffs. “how dare he.”

“she says she ‘wants me to be healthy and have muscles so i can carry our grandchildren’. and ‘if possible not have a heart attack, please’.”

matt laughs. “grandchildren?”

“gonna take a while, innit. so far all i do is carry shopping and grocery bags. sometimes her when we’re feeling cheeky.”

“does she ever carry you?”

“god, no. i love her too much. don’t want ‘er fucking up her back.”

“that’s fair.” matt said simply. “you two work out together, then?”

“yeah, yeah. we do.”

“with a personal trainer?”

“well, we used to have one. now that we got the hang of it, ‘s just me and her.”

“you two are that disciplined?”

well… discipline isn’t exactly what noel would call it.

the first month was, in noel’s opinion, hell.

during that time, he only managed to drag himself to the home gym because of you. always you. for three different reasons.

sometimes, you’d gently encourage him. slowly and sweetly running your hands through his hair like it would physically remove the laziness from his brain. you’d kiss his mouth as he grumbled under his breath and remind him that he’d feel better afterwards, before disappearing downstairs in your trainers. he’d follow you not long after.

other times, you’d just take the piss. shrug simply and say “one point for me, then.”

it wasn’t even a proper competition. there weren’t rules or an actual scoreboard. it was just one of those silent, cheeky games that had somehow survived from the days you still “hated” one another. every missed workout became an imaginary point for the other. those were the days where noel's pride and stubborness made him go earn an imaginary point.

and always the gym clothes you wore. he’d be lying if he said that those fitted tops and leggings weren’t a great motivational tool. even when he had sore thighs or stomach from the day’s before sit-ups.

you always heard him coming, smirking to yourself as you stretched your muscles. “thought you weren’t training today?”

“changed me mind.”

you laughed, leaning in and giving him a small kiss. “did you?” you teased, smirking.

he’d only shake his head, not even pursing his lips to kiss you back. “cunt.”

and you’d happily hum. “mhm. a healthy cunt.”

during that first month and the second, a personal trainer was around. a six foot tall bloke with muscles that probably weighed more than noel himself.

also a bloke that had more chances of flirting with noel than you – you swear the day you laughed the most was when he teasingly called your husband a silver fox and it made him blush like a school girl.

the first day without the his presence started like every other one. your elbows were propped in the kitchen counter, half full mug of tea beside you and phone in hand.

while noel sat on the stool not far from you, taking a sip from his own half empty mug while watching a footie segment from yesterday on his phone. kids already off to school, both of you already dressed in gym clothes. routine, by now.

“huh.” you said suddenly, eyes on your phone screen.

“what?”

“shawn can’t come today. aw, poor guy. has a stomach bug.”

noel’s lips pouted in that 'eh, well' way with a shrug, unbothered as he took another sip of his tea. "reckon we can manage not to kill ourselves for one day, can’t we." he said. then, wiggling his brows, noel leaned closer, placing a kiss on your nose. "unless you're looking for an excuse to slack off."

you laughed, softly shoving his face away. "in your dreams, gallagher.”

an hour later, you were both in the home gym. the morning sun softly shining through. you were in the middle of your second set of squats, feet planted, focusing on keeping your weight back.

noel was leaning against the dumbbell rack, supposedly resting between sets of bicep curls, but mostly just watching you with his arms crossed over his chest – those fitted gym leggings really did him massive favors.

you dropped down into another deep squat, holding it for a second at the bottom. you peeked at him through the mirror.

then, an idea sparked inside your brain.

"coach?" you called out, your voice in exaggeratedly sweet tone.

noel’s eyebrows raised while a slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. cheeky thing. "yeah? what's your problem, then?"

your head tilted as you watched him come closer through the reflection, slowly getting back into a position that didn’t strain your muscles. "can you tell me if my form is okay? feel like i'm not getting low enough. need an expert to help me..."

"right," he murmured, straight-faced now, playing along instantly. his hands unhurriedly went to your hips, gripping them firmly and tenderly all at once. "let's have a look at you, then."

he took one step closer, smirking just like you were. his chest pressed on your back, your ass deliberately rubbing him as you slowly squatted down – his hands not leaving you as he slowly dropped down with you, palms heavy on your hips for guidance.

as you two moved upwards again, he got even closer. his crotch pressing firmly on your ass, making you smirk as you felt his already half hard length through the thin material of your leggings.

his hand went to your front, squeezing your tit over the fabric. "keep your chest up," his breath was hot against the shell of your ear. his hands slid down from your chest, and he smirked as an attempt to hold in a laugh at the sight of you doing the same by biting your bottom lip.

with his palms flattening across your stomach, he pulled you back against him, shamelessly pressing his crotch closer to your ass. "don't rush it. gotta hold it right there." squeezing your hips for emphasis, letting his fingers linger closer to your mound.

"but it's so heavy, coach…" you whined, tilting your head back like a purring cat would, despite the corner of your lips curling upwards. a genuine laugh bubbling up inside your chest, though you could already feel yourself already dampening your knickers.

he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, fingers curling around your hip at the same time he slowly pushed forward. “yeah?” he whispered, eyes watching you from the mirror, smirking again as they leaned closer to your neck. “wanna skip right to cardio, then?” he teased, nibbling your pulse point and smiling to himself at the sight of your head tilting with a small breathy laugh.

ticklish or aroused, he never really knew which. all he knew was that he fucking loved it. every single time.

"aren't you supposed to be keeping me focused?" you breathed out, smirking. then, your head turned just enough to brush your lips against his. "i'm a married woman, you know. my husband wouldn't like you touching me like this."

his brows raised softly at the same time hands shifted again, sliding up your ribs. “married?” he asked lowly.

“mhm…” you hummed sweetly.

“yeah? happily?” he teased, fingers slipped inside the bottom elastic restraint of your top, kneading your breasts in that way that always made you gasp.

you breathed out a laugh, shaky and needy, despite entertained. head tilting to the side, keeping your eyes on him through the reflection. “mhm… i love my husband.”

his pointer and middle fingers rolled your nipples, making you inevitably arch yourself more to him, his clothed erection pressing even firmer on your ass. “yeah? why are you rubbing yourself on me then, hm?”

you bit down a laugh before clicking your tongue in mock sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your hand reached out behind you, palming him over the fabric. “because you’re so, so hot, coach…”

fucking hell, later you knew he’d tease you about all this. taking the piss and saying you should screenwrite for pornos for a living. but right now, he only smirked wider, cock throbbing underneath your touch.

"fuck him, then." noel muttered, smirking as he leaned in to place a wet and slow kiss on your mouth, hips slowly humping your hand. "he's not here, is he? probably at home being a lazy sod."

you couldn’t help but laugh at it, head throwing back despite the heat growing in your lower belly. noel smiled too, before leaning in to nibble your soft cheek, not minding the salty taste of sweat.

"he's not a lazy sod…" you giggled, moving your hand away only to grind your ass right against his cock. "he's got” – you interrupted yourself with a teasing kiss on his lips – “high blood pressure. i'm doing this for him..." you added, teasingly fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"that right?" he said lowly, teasing. then, his hand moved, sliding down the front of your leggings until his fingers firmly cupped your clothed cunt. his other hand stayed on your hip, keeping you glued to him. "well, he's a lucky fucking bastard, then.”

you nodded, humming softly as your hand reached out again, fingers curled around the outline of his hardened length, pulling out a low moan out of him right against your mouth.

"you’re a rubbish trainer." you teased, still feeling him throb under your touch.

"i’m expensive, though." he replied, head tilting and voice dropping.

you smirked, now turning around, chest pressing against his. "yeah? how much?" you asked without breaking eye contact or moving your hand away.

"kiss’ll do."

you breathed out a laugh, leaning in and giving him a slow, nearly teasing kiss. "just a kiss, coach?" murmuring against his lips, your hand kept teasing his cock.

he let out a breathless laugh, one hand sliding into your hair until his fingers were buried in it. with an easy tug, he spun you around, guiding you until your front was pressed against the wall.

instinctively, your spine arched, ass pushing back against his crotch and a silent moan escaping your lips.

he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “yeah? could show you what i really want.” he murmured, voice low and amused.

with one hand still firm inside your hair, the other moved to the waistband of your leggings, tugging it down past your ass with your knickers. “don’t think your husband would like it, though.”

you let out a shaky breath as your leggings and panties were strained around the top your thighs, palms settling on the cool mirror as you arched youself even more to him.

noel looked down, letting go of your hair to shove the waistband of his own gym shorts and his boxers in an impatient motion to free himself. his other hand went to his mouth, eyes darting up and meeting yours through the reflection as he licked the pad of his fingertips before they dissapeared between your thighs.

his slick fingers smeared your own wetness and his saliva around your clit before sliding down to coat your entrance. you moaned shakily, forehead dropping against the glass.

he didn't tease any further. he only wrapped his hand around himself, guiding his cock until the leaking tip pressed on your opening. then, pushing in with a pathetic ease. you gasped immediately, fingers smudging the mirror and a warm shaky breath fogging it up as he buried himself completely inside you, smirking at your reaction.

while he pounded inside you, your head was just him, him, him – his voice speaking dirty things in your ear. his hands groping you anywhere he could reach, tugging your sports bra down until the cold mirror bit your warm breasts. all while his cock hit that perfect spot inside you.

the aftermath came soon after a few breathless giggles and wobbly legs, where his hands smoothed you back into place, even though the mess he had made still dripped down your thighs.

“think we can dismiss shawn from now on?” you teased, immediately making him break into that raspy laugh you adored so much.

both of you obviously laughed at the foggy marks of your hands and your tits on the mirror.

"that's... impressive, actually." noel admitted, wiping at one with the sleeve of his shirt.

it only smeared more, making you laugh even harder. "don't make it worse!"

"well, what d'you want me to do?!" he asked with a smile across his lips, flushed cheeks and an amused expression on his face.

that led you shoving glass spray and a cloth into his hands. “it’s your fault!” you justified. even though it was very much yours.

a few other months went by, and, annoyingly, the doctors were right. but eh, noel supposes it’s quite alright. his back didn't hurt so badly anymore, neither did his knees. climbing the stairs wasn't accompanied by the dramatic old-man groan he'd become famous for around the house anymore.

he refused to mention any of this, of course. you noticed anyway. quietly and proudly and fond.

another day at the dinner, he’s yapping. something about football and how he wished to bomb united's dressing room. donovan and sonny are talking too – basically repeating what their dad has been going on and on about for years, like two little adorable parrots.

you huff out a fond air though your nose, but you're not really paying attention. because ten minutes ago, you noticed how his bicep now makes the sleeve of his shirt a bit tighter around him. your hand settles there absentmindedly, noel carries on anyway.

eventually, he looks at you and asks you a question.

you only reply with a distracted "hm?"

his brows furrow, "are you listenin'?"

you shake your head, hand squeezing his arm softly and completely ignoring the question. "it's really paying off, yknow."

his brows raise in a silent smug "oh, is it?" and he smirks like he's just been gifted a platter of gold, involuntarily flexing his muscle underneath your touch like a daft twenty year old would while pretending to be cool about it.

the kids gag in response. collectively.

"oh, come on."

"mum, ew."

"seriously?"

later that night – without the kids around to shame you for flirting with your husband. how the fuck do they think they were made, by the way? anyway, the television downstairs had been switched off, the dishwasher hummed somewhere in the background.

the house is finally quiet, kids asleep in their rooms, and you’re wrapped up against his back, both lazily resting underneath the duvet. you’re spooning him, front flushed against his spine and one of your arms draped over his waist. he’s warm and smells like the fresh laundry detergent that lingered on his soft cotton shirt.

as you're almost drifting off, he shifts softly. and your brows immediately furrow at the slight difference in the way he fits you now. your hand settles on his ass, squeezing a handful of it like you're trying to check. "jesus christ, noel." you mutter against his shoulder blade, a little amused laugh in your voice.

noel snaps out of the relaxed state he had been slowly slipping in for the last minutes, immediately choking out a startled laugh, his body jumping under your touch. "fucking hell, watch the hands! what’s gotten into you tonight?"

"serious," you mumble, voice thick with amusement as your free hand pushes the duvet to allow you to see your hand groping his ass. "feels bigger than mine."

he’s still chuckling, that low and raspy kind, as he tries to settle back down. but his ears are that cute shade of pink, despite you not being able to see how his cheeks match the tone in the darkness of the room.

"fuck off," he huffs, trying to sound unbothered and failling miserably. "you're sexually harassing me, yknow." he jokes, but embarrassment is mixed with that deeply ingrained gallagher cockiness.

you laugh, not pulling your hand away, amused by how easily you can still startle him after all these years.

"right..." you start, pressing a lazy kiss on the back of his neck, inhaling softly once the tip of your nose buries inside his gray hairs. your hand moves from his ass to trail slowly up his hip, sliding under the hem of his soft cotton shirt. "can stop if you' want."

"do i fuck," he grumbles, still smiling and not pulling away. he shifts, rolling over onto his back so he can look at you. he looks caught off guard and amused – a little flustered, maddeningly handsome. "you're fuckin’ obsessed tonight. can't keep your hands to yourself."

"can you blame me?" you prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with an affectionate smile. you lean in, placing a tender kiss on his mouth while your hand slides up, brushing underneath the hem of his shirt as you softly caress his belly, feeling his warmth and his happy trail underneath your touch. "you're so handsome..."

noel swallows a rough little laugh, throat bobbing softly. "right." he rasps, his hips involuntarily pushing upwards, like the cotton covers will bring some relief to his needy cock, already stirring inside his underwear.

his hand comes up to catch your wrist. not to stop you, but just to hold on, his fingers brushing your knuckles.

you breathe out a tiny laugh at the gentleness, leaning in until your nose is pressed on the side of his neck. you hum softly at his scent, placing tender kisses along his pulse point.

"fucking hell," he breathes out in an amused little laugh. "trying to give me a heart attack?" he finishes in a whisper, breathier.

"just appreciating my husband..." you murmur, palm sliding down and finding him already semi-hard. he lets out a shaky breath through his nose at the touch, blue eyes fluttering shut for a second as your fingers curl around him over the fabric. you smile, kissing his jaw softly. then, you tease quietly, "know you like it."

"fuck, fucking love it," he rasps, his eyes opening just enough to look at you, completely glazed. "come here, darling. please." he pleas quietly, his palm settling on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer for a kiss, at the same time you're already leaning in.

as you slowly kiss, your hand slowly slips inside the elastic waistband of his underwear. you start slow, with rhythmic strokes, more appreaciative and caring than teasing – you moan softly inside his mouth as you feel him hardening even more under your touch.

your thumb slides over his tip, catching a small bead of pre cum. noel’s hips twitch instinctively, a soft involuntary moan catching in the back of his throat and his lips parting, still glued to yours. his hand behind your neck tightens softly as he whispers against your mouth. "love you."

you smile, kissing the corner of his mouth then his cheek while not faltering on your strokes around him. "love you too, my love."

── .✦

“at least she’s taking care of you.” matt says.

“no, yeah, she’s the best.”

“she could be, all due respect, getting all fit and leave you to be all… fat. on your own.”

noel laughs, “well, firstly. she’s always fit, she doesn’t need to try. and secondly, she’d like it. cause, for some odd reason, she likes me round.”

matt blinks, "that's..."

"yeah."

"odd."

"yeah, yeah. what can i say?" noel says with an unbothered shrug.

truth was, you loved whatever version of him to fucking bits. and he loved you right back. that's why taking care of one another had always been something as easy as breathing.

it happened in the late nineties. you took care of him through the withdrawls from coke.

some mornings he'd snap because the kettle took too long to boil, then apologize thirty seconds later with that guilty little wrinkle between his brows. you never took it personally.

sometimes, he'd wake up in the middle of the night, unable to breath and soaked in sweat. you'd calmly soothe him, tell him everything was okay until he drifted off again - sometimes minutes later, sometimes hours. you never complained.

he took care of you that one time you caught a terrible stomach bug in the middle of your new year vacation to greece – noel had no problem in spending the shift between milleniums beside you in a hospital bed, with rehydration saline dripping inside your veins and nurses speaking a language neither of you understood.

you had apologized, and he only shook his head and held your hand tighter, reassuring you that as long as he was with his favorite person, all is good.

you took care of him that one time a lunatic fan got upstage and shoved him right over the speakers, breaking three of his ribs. six weeks of taking it easy, the doctor said. you spent those six weeks helping him into jumpers every morning because lifting his arms made him hiss through his teeth.

the whole time, you pretended not to notice how embarrassed he looked every time you didn't let him lift a finger. or whenever you'd patiently wash his hair. or whenever you'd hand him the medication and a bottle of water before he could even remember on his own – even asking him if he wanted something to eat or tea as well.

one night, feeling your hands play with his hair and looking almost sheepish, he addressed it quietly. "never thought i'd have anyone looking after me like this."

you smiled so softly it nearly broke his heart, because of course he didn't. then, you shifted, leaned in and craddling his cheeks in your hands as you gave him a soft kiss. "good thing you married me, then."

he took care of you through all three pregnancies with the sort of devotion that bordered on superstition. the origin to that was even before you got pregnant with anais.

in the be here now gig in brazil, a local stage manager casually shared a superstition at the sight of a six month pregnant patsy across the room, telling liam that if a pregnant woman’s craving went unattended, the baby would be born looking like whatever food she’d wanted.

noel overheard and stared at the poor lady for a long second before slowly nodding. from that day on, it became a matter of honor.

because god forbid his missus – already carrying his child – wanted peaches at half eleven at night and didn’t get them. and god forbid the baby came out looking like a bloody pickle because he’d been too lazy to get it for his pregnant lady. or sausages. or crisps dipped in a milkshake. or a savory sandwich with french toast as buns.

some sounded criminal, yes. but a few others, strangely, weren’t half bad. which was exactly how he ended up putting on a bit of weight during every single one of your pregnancies.

“can’t leave you alone in this, can i?” was the excuse, already taking another bite. “gotta feed you and our baby.” he’d say gently, reaching out to your belly and softly rubbing it.

you’d laugh, breathless. “me… the baby… and yourself too, apparently.”

he’d shrug, completely unapologetic. “gotta be a team effort, innit?”

you took care of him once he got a vasectomy. even thought the idea sounded dreadful, it was only fair.

you made him tea, renewed ice packs that have gone too warm, carried everything for him and ignored every exaggerated sigh he let out just to make you laugh – he succeeded, he was a dramatic funny cunt after all. then, you’d lean down to kiss his forehead and smooth a hand through his hair. “you’re cute when you’re forced to let someone take care of you.”

truth be told, noel quite liked being fussed over. especially by you. the whole gym saga wasn’t that different from the mutual care-taking over the long years of your relationship.

the same way the previously mentioned unspoken score board was also similar to the early years, where all of this was just a rivalry.

in one particular occasion, your period came harsh the way you never got used to. as a woman in your fifties that got scared whenever a heat wave hit, you cherished every moment of a menopause-less life. even if it hurt like a fucking bitch.

you woke up from cramps before your alarm even rang, pressing the heated bag firmer against your lower belly. it was still warm from the night before – miraculously, it always was. and it made noel smirk every single time.

“those japanese blokes. technology. i’m telling ya.” would be the phrase he’d mutter every time he’d catch either of you filling it in the kitchen. nodding to himself with a satisfied smile on his lips, of course.

he came across them in a japanese shop while on tour. at first he laughed at the pink fuzzy material. but once the shop assistant had politely explained what they were for, he immediately stopped laughing and pulled out his card. two for you, two for anais. genetics are a bitch, his poor girls.

that morning, once the alarm woke noel up, he settled in the routine like muscle memory.

he took a shower, put on his clothes… and as he was quietly stepping into his trainers, he mentally celebrated a point ahead since you apparently had decided to stay in bed – trying not to look too pleased with himself.

he leaned down to press a kiss on your head, whispering “i’ll get going, alright?” before straightening up and making his way towards the bedroom door. the room was still too dark for him to notice you still curled beneath the duvet, eyebrows pinched together, one arm wrapped around your stomach.

“noel?” you said so quietly it immediately made his brows furrow, looking back in a heartbeat.

“hm?”

you seemed almost hesitant to ask, not even opening your eyes or making an effort to speak louder. “can you stay with me?…”

one thing about noel is that he loves the bossy, sharp and mouthy side of you. he loves the way you never let him get away with his own bullshit. he loves that you challenge him, that you laugh in his face when he gets too full of himself, that you always have something clever to say back.

but god, the sight of you like this – cute and cuddly and needy for your husband – made his heart melt every single time.

he looked down at the trainers he had just tied, then back at you. with a quiet sigh through his nose and without so much as a second thought, he nudged one shoe off with the heel of his other foot. “course i can, sweetheart.”

he watched your shoulders visibly loosen underneath the duvet and smiled to himself.

“bad?” he asked softly as he crossed back over to the bed.

you gave a tiny nod. “mhm.”

he clicked his tongue softly in sympathy, climbing back beneath the duvet carefully. immediately wrapping one arm before you instinctively shifted until your forehead found its familiar place beneath his chin. you let out a sleepy little hum, he kissed the top of your head.

somewhere downstairs, the coffee machine timer clicked exactly as programmed and the treadmill certainly waited for the usual two pairs of feet jogging over it. but inside your bedroom, none of it seemed particularly important anymore.

── .✦

“so if she likes you fat, you can loose weight, but not too much.” matt continued, truly amused.

noel laughed, nodding. “you have no fucking idea, mate.”

yeah, noel won’t publicly talk about the endorphin induced sex or the sex itself that has led up to this health kick. and he surely won’t talk about the only proper argument the two of you had since deciding to become healthier.

looking back now, it was a bit ridiculous.

it all started because he’d been sat on the sofa one day, early in the afternoon with his phone suspiciously angled away from you. your feet were on his lap, head resting comfortably on a soft pillow and eyes focused on a book page, love island quietly playing in the telly.

the sounds of noel’s tortoise paced typing made you look up. “what are you doing?”

his eyes darted at you, immediately locking his phone. “nothin’.”

your eyes narrowed. “you’re doing something.”

“am not.”

a beat.

then, you sat up straighter. “give me your phone, noel.”

“no.”

your brows furrowed, immediately pissed. “no?”

his mouth opened, then closed without another word.

“give.”

“love—”

“phone.”

he sighed, a little “christ” coming out under his breath, like you were the unreasonable one, before handing it over.

you expected him giving into twitter, mocking somehing liam had done even though you told him not to. or even, fuck me, porn – some daft mate of his sending a picture of a busty twenty something year old in their groupchat.

instead, his phone screen was settled in a conversation with one of his doctor friends.

your head immediately picked up, eyebrows furrowing in shock. “are you fucking kidding me?”

“darlin—“

“OZEMPIC?”

he sighed, scratching the side of his nose with his eyes closed. “maybe.”

“MAYBE?”

afterwards, all hell broke loose. noel sighed and rubbed both hands over his face, insisting you were making a fuss over nothing and that he was only asking questions.

you, on the other hand, couldn’t believe he was even entertaining the idea. you listed how he’d spent months building strength, that he’d finally stopped complaining about his knees every bloody morning, and that taking a dumb shortcut just because of his belly was stupid, stupid, stupid! – as you stormed off.

“you’re not gonna take it!” you yelled from the bedroom, then the door slammed. he could hear it all the way from the living room.

the rest of the day developed like a cold war, not standing in the same room for more than two minutes and the only words exchanged being "we're out of milk."

the kids shared looks and gossiped about it in the garden. while you went to bed far too early, leaving noel pacing around the house like he was deeply considering if it was too soon to walk into the bedroom or if he should just take the couch already.

he put on his best puppy face as he picked the first option. noel pushed the door open slowly, eyes immediately settling on you, expecting you to be asleep already – even though he knew it wasn't that easy for you whenever you were pissed. countless had been the times where something frustrated you while producting an album, where you ranted non-stop in bed at midnight, making him have to fight for his life to keep his eyes open and pay attention.

said and done, because he walked in and saw your eyes open, staring at the closet. if it hadn't been for the light botox you had done last month in your forehead, your brows would be angrily furrowed – in that soft way that got a small line to appear between them. he thought it was cute, and you always told him to fuck off while laughing whenever he'd say it.

he sighed softly, closing the door with a quiet thud. your eyes didn't follow him as he walked closer to the bed, and you didn't say anything either the second he laid down, feeling the mattress dip softly.

his body fit yours from behind, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into a tight spoon position that always felt like melatonin to you.

he leaned in, mouth pressing on the curve of your shoulder in a soft kiss, hand gently squeezing your waist for emphasis. "i'm not gonna take it."

"good." you replied dryly, even though your shoulders just properly relaxed for the first time today.

a beat.

"i don't want you to have sarcopenia." you added quietly.

so quietly his brows softly furrowed in confusion. "have what?"

you sighed. "sarcopenia..." you repeated just as quietly. "it's muscle loss. ozempic can do that to you if you use it without properly needing it. which you don't."

another moment of silence. then, it was cut off by a small, fond and amumsed huff of a laugh leaving noel's nostrils, propping his head up to try to get a better look at your face. “did you google that?”

you blinked, eyes darting down to your own fingertips brushing off a small remain of boots’ fur stuck on the sleeve of your jumper. “yeah…” you admitted quietly.

his forehead dropped fowards from laughing, hands shifting you until you faced him, immediately pulling you closer – feeling your mouth curl into a sheepish smile pressed against his chest, hands slowly sliding up his sides as you held him back.

your shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. "i'm sorry. i got worried."

his smile softened immediately, pulling away and taking your cheeks into his hand, your legs already tangled. “don’t worry,” then, he leaned forward until your foreheads touched. "i'm not taking it."

"promise?"

"promise."

you finally smiled, breathing out a little satisfied huff. "okay."

he leaned in and kissed your forehead. "okay."

── .✦

“so what do you do at the gym, then?” matt asks.

noel inhales softly, shaking his head. “just lift some weights.”

a beat, his expression clear that he's thinking about it.

“sometimes we run. treadmill or outside.” noel adds.

“yeah?”

“yeah, sometimes we take the bike as well and just… go.”

matt clicks his tongue, head tilting. “aw.” he teases, despite genuinely endeared.

noel raises his brows as he nods, like it isn't a big deal. “yeah.”

“do you gossip along the way?”

noel snorts softly, “like two lovely fucking ladies.”

truth be told, noel didn't even like biking that much. he didn't really like being forced to apply suncreen despite his protests about london being cloudy all the time. although your hands on his face did feel nice, and okay, the lotion did smell good. it smelled like you.

but eventually, biking had shifted into a little getaway and sightseeing rather than cardio. he could feel his heart beating inside his throat afterwards from the effort, but it always calmed down a few minutes after sitting down in some high hill, with your shoulders touching and water bottles half empty beside the two of you.

he liked how you always brought along a trail mix, and how you always placed the raisins and the cashews on his hand even as you talked, distracted. you knew he liked them, as natural as breathing at this point.

he liked how you always softly said "this is nice..." while looking at the view, tipping your head to rest on his shoulder. even though it was the sight every time – you've stuck to the same path once realizing it was the best one.

one day, as you were taking a gulp of your water, noel cut in the silence.

“i’m gonna tell you something.” he said, looking at the view. in his peripheral vision, he saw your head turning so fast he thought you'd have a whiplash.

“what?” you asked curiously, tone dipping like it always did when it came to hot gossip.

he turned his face to meet yours calmly, already smirking. “but you have to pretend you don’t know.”

your eyes widened. “oh god, what.”

his brows raised, “promise.”

you sighed, nodding eagerly for him to just spit it out already. “okay, okay. i promise.”

he licked his lips, looking ahead again. smug from holding onto a good piece of gossip. “sonny told me donovan fancies a girl from his class.”

you gasped. “WHAT?”

he smiled, still looking ahead, still smiling. “told ‘im i wouldn’t tell you.”

your jaw dropped, hand flying to his knee and shaking it. “oh my god, noel!”

he laughed, ”yeah, and he’s a fucking gossiper lad, that one. showed me pictures from instagram and everything.”

you laugh, looking down at the small package in your hand, tipping it until the small nuts fell over your palm. “is she cute?”

“don’t know." he said with a shrug, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, same way it always did once he faced the generational differences. "kids take pictures covering their fucking faces with their phones nowadays.”

“oh my god, right?" deep from your soul, eyes even widening in agreement. "what is that all about?” you added, picking a few raisins and placing them in his palm, that opened without you even telling him to do so.

“i know.” he agreed with a shake of his head, shaking the raisins in his hand before shoving them inside his mouth. he had never really paid attention to that tiny thing he did until one day anais pointed it out, saying it's an universal dad thing. eh, guess so.

your eyes went back to the view, tongue clicking softly before you spoke in that soft tone you couldn't help yourself whenever it came to the kids. ”aw...”

he breathed out a small laugh, raising his brows in amusement before furrowing them softly, nodding. “yeah...”

your head tilted again until your temple rested on his shoulder. “our baby. growing up.”

for a little while, neither of you said anything else. the breeze carried the smell of grass and cobblestones. your bikes were abandoned against the wooden fence behind you while the morning sun softly warmed your skins. somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

you sighed contentedly. "we're getting old." you added.

he huffed, tilting his head until it rested against yours. "we are."

you turned your head to look at him. he did the same. you both smiled, leaning in to share a small kiss. one that felt like a silent agreement: with you, getting old isn’t that bad.

with a small smile, he pulled away first. only to fish his phone out of his pocket, then, standing up with a small groan. "c'mere."

you laughed, dusting off tiny stones off your ass and the back of your thighs as you stood. his arm extended with the phone in hand, his free one immediately wrapping around your shoulder at the same time yours hug his torso. your chin tipped up to look at the screen of his phone, now showing both of you in the camera's selfie mode.

you smiled, hugging him closer and shifting until your face was practically glued to his. unlike noel, who held that little smug expression he saves for photos.

you laughed immediately, eyebrows furrowing softly. "cmon, why are you making that face?"

his brows only furrowed more, winding you up. "what face?" he teased, free hand sliding down your waist and giving it that particular squeeze he knew made you ticklish.

you bite down a laugh, fingers sliding behind him and gave his ass a quick pinch.

he broke immediately, spine curving further away from you grip and lips curling up into a breathless surprised laugh. "little shit."

you laughed, tip toing to press a hard kiss on his cheek, hand going up to his jaw and squeezing it to pull him impossibly closer. cuteness agression towards your own husband, as one does.

── .✦

"biking's your cardio, then."

"yep."

before matt could finish his next phrase, noel cut in with a snap of his fingers and that little gesture he always does when remembering something. “oh, we’ve got a new punch bag now. that fucking thing, really gets a sweat out of ya. makes me feel like muhammad ali, mate."

matt laughs, “do you print out your brother’s face and glue it to it?”

noel laughs too, shaking his head. “she won’t let me.”

“huh.”

“yeah.”

a beat.

“it’s her exes face.” noel teases, completely serious. and as matt's laughing, noel shakes his head, finally breaking into that soft, nearly boyish smile. “i’m joking. he’s lovely.”

“now.” matt teases.

noel snorts, nodding. “yeah. now.”

“so that’s your cardio. biking and gossiping and punching a bag.”

"yeah."

“anything else?” matt asks with a tilt of his head, like he means "anything else, mr. fitness man?"

noel breathes out a laugh, raising his brows and tilting his head. “her, sometimes.” he adds smugly.

matt sighs, raising his brows and shaking his head, looking down at a paper sheet. mock dissapointed that he gave noel such a good cue. “dunno why i asked.”

★2016

You’d blinked, and somehow, an entire year had gone by. You didn't even realise as it happened around you but somewhere along the way you’d begun officially calling Liam’s flat your home, your own keys in the bowl that you'd forced him to place by the door, “It’s convenient, Liam” You'd pressed it into him as you followed him around the home you could now call yours, “It’s bullshit I say - i mean, who needs some poncey little bowl to keep keys in” He didn't even turn around to look at you as you chased him around the house, his voice cracking slightly from trying to hold his laughter at your absolute onslaught of threats over, “Get the bowl or I get gone”, speeding up with a chuckle as you followed him, “I know just where my keys are”

But of course, you’d managed to overturn him. And now you had a credit card directly connected to his bank to take care of yourself, had properly immersed yourself within the Gallagher family - meeting Peggy, his other son Lennon, countless cousins when you eventually made your way over to Ireland. Your hands hurt from all the shaking, your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. But even Liam could see it in his face, you belonged here now. Everybody fussed over you in a way he’d never seen from them before, his kids grew more comfortable, his flat that once had been littered with beer bottles and empty takeaway containers was now, much to Liam’s smugness, full of your “Utter shite”, as he called it.

But he still loved the feeling he got whenever he rolled over in the morning to see you grinning up at him. Loved when you’d wink, eyelids heavy with sleep and whisper, “Morning handsome”, rolling over onto him as you attacked his face with kisses. Yes, it was sappy by Liam’s standards. But a man can enjoy a life with the girl he’d already begun building it with slowly over what was now almost three years of knowing one another.

★February 14th 2016

And now it was Valentine’s Day. What a day to be had, of course, the constant reminder of the time light finally shone on the darkness of his life. He’d never say that to your face, of course, but you both saw it in the way he seemed to carry himself lighter now, seemed to get himself back on his feet after so long just treading water.

Even the newspapers realised it too.

‘OASIS Frontman Liam Gallagher to spend yet another year with secretive ‘missus’, is this the year where the long running Gallagher curse strikes another relationship? Read Page 23 to find out more…”

Liam in fact hadn’t read page 23, and wasn’t planning on it. Not when you were in this happy little bubble which people often described as love. No longer hiding, the first Valentine’s day in which you could properly just be the two of you in the public eye without fear of disapproval from the media. And Liam planned on riding this wave for a long time.

You woke up early, probably around 5/6 in the morning - Liam effectively had you on the strictest schedule, “I’m getting old now, love” He told you last night when you suggested staying up a little late as a Valentine’s day treat, wanting to celebrate the night properly with him. But there he was, fluffing up his pillows and setting his phone on to charge, “Gone are the days where I can shag around until 2 in the morning”. You laughed, and pointed out the fact that, “Actually, sometimes we can pull it outta you”

“Aye lass, geriatric Gallagher isn’t quite here yet” You’d laughed back at him, already pulling the covers to the side to slot yourself onto his lap, arms winding around his neck as the two of you grinned at each other. Pure bliss. He never thought he’d have this again, but you felt so real sitting in his lap that he just pulled you towards him, laughing when you mumbled, “I’m very glad for that tonight”

And in true Liam fashion, he could never let what was practically his reason for still existing go needy on Valentine’s eve, so he dutifully made you come on his fingers, before shuffling back onto his side of the bed. Immediately conking out. You’d followed almost immediately, smiling down at his peaceful sleep, stroking his hair back with two fingers. 

“Happy Valentine’s, grumpy”

You’d both explicitly said you weren’t going to get Valentine's gifts this year. Not that you really had over the last two - the first being a lonely drink in a bar, the second being, albeit, quite a nice dinner. You could say your present was him finally confessing but, with the way he’d sharpened himself up over that year, you could say you saw it coming. And that was what you were the most grateful for.

The flat was completely silent when you rolled out of bed, shivering as your bare feet hit the ice cold floor with a yelp, “Fuck’s sake!” Heading to the thermostat on the wall, seeing it at quite literally an arctic temperature. You cranked up the heating immediately, continuing on your quest to find Liam with a muttered, “Stingy old man” as you finally felt your feet start to thaw. And then, you set out on your quest to actually find said old men.

Liam was nowhere to be found, no note, no breakfast, his keys gone from the stupid little bowl. You smiled to yourself once again, wrapping your arms around yourself with a tutted, “Typical”. You made your way to the kitchen, nothing. Nothing in the cupboard. Hardly anything in the fridge. He’d honoured your wishes, it seems, and with a little smile on your face, you rolled your eyes. Poor guy was probably out stressing somewhere, but that was a problem for later when-

And as if on cue, the door slammed wide open. And there was the man himself, appearing bundled up in a parka you’d fought him over for it being, “Big enough for a sumo wrestler” And he’d fought you right back on that, “It’s fashion, love, not like you’d know”. And in his hands he was brandishing far too much for one man - a bunch of flowers wrapped in crinkly cellophane, half squished from where he had them pressed just over his heart, but still beautiful nonetheless, two coffees in one hand, and a carrier bag from Tesco which looked like it held one unwritten hallmark card, a six pack of beer, two cartons of cigarettes, and a bar of Cadbury’s chocolate.

“Morning love” He chirped. And he seemed very pleased with the surprised look you shot him from where you were currently trying to make his and your own cup of tea, scooping the teabags out as you quirked your lips, “You disappeared”

“I had errands to run” He said with a laboured sigh, like heading to the corner shop was some mammoth task, setting his collection down with a happy sigh. That was before he rounded the table, beaming like an overexcited puppy, tugging you into him. It was a hug that spoke of all the sappiness he could never say, squeezing you tight to his chest like he needed to thank you for still being here, swaying on his feet in some weird little dance that told you he just needed you to be casual about it. And you were. You smiled against his shoulder, propping yourself on tiptoes to peek over his shoulder at the slightly crushed flowers drooping on the table, “You got me Tesco flowers”

“Aye, expensive Tesco flowers” He muttered against you, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he pulled back with an expression that read mock offence for your flippancy over his efforts. “Happy Valentine’s, darlin’”

You smiled back up at his face, “Happy Valentine’s, grumpy”

He hated that nickname. That was publicly, secretly, he loved it. With a roll of his eyes he ducked his head to lock your lips in his for the softest kiss that spoke about 1000 words, holding the absolute weight of his love for you. You stayed like that for a minute, swaying still in his arms even as he pulled back away from you just to tug you back into literally the longest hug ever.

“Are y’not impressed with my initiative” Clearly very proud of himself for sneaking around you and still finding a way to ‘spoil’ you when the last conversation you had about Cupid’s day was a pinky promise to not buy each other anything.

You just stared at his little haul on the table with a soft expression on your face, before muttering, “Oh, what millions can buy”

— · ✦ · —

The day moved slow and fast at the exact same time, having spent the morning in the quiet together, chattering about nonsense while you sat there on the couch, him massaging your feet, you complaining about a picture the sun had managed to snag of you the other week. He just smiled and tickled the soles of your feet, "Aren't you a dramatic little madame” And he loved the way your face screwed up in laughter, slapping at his arm, “Liam!”

But, eventually you did make it out of the house, and he’d even changed his parka for the occasion, a very rare move, for which you congratulated him on your walk. You pinched the sleeve as you navigated the streets of London, having opted to walk rather than taking a cab, tugging on the fabric, “This is nice”, he’d nodded, hands in his pockets so his arm was perfectly bent to accommodate your hold on his elbow, “You’re right, you’re punching, angel”. You just laughed back at him, walked together in perfect tandem, you could see the vulnerability still written in his eyes, the apprehensiveness in his expression at the fear you may not take his joke in stride, but of course. You still continued to surprise him, “Coming from the man who called me the most beautiful thing he'd ever set eyes on when he was balls deep in me the other day”

That caught him by surprise, the way you still managed to make him laugh, the way you matched him in every way possible, “Well, arent you a cheeky little fucker”

The peace, however, was broken eventually. You were trying to scour the streets of London for a nice place you could take him to, “I’d better treat you, eh?” Youd smiled up at him, even as he led the way with the confidence of a man who'd known these streets for years, “After that romeo-esque gesture this morning” He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips as the light caught on his sunglasses when he’d turned to you, “Oh, and that's coming off your card or mine”

However, before you had the chance to snap something snippy right back at him his expression changed, jaw clenched. And there was, what you could only describe as a mob of paparazzi directly across the street from the two of you. It seems that you would never have a quiet valentines day as long as you were slumming it with Liam Gallagher. You'd made your peace with it, but you weren't so sure he had, you still remember that first time when they'd snapped pictures of you together in the park, the way he looked like his entire world was about to fall apart. And you didn't want to see him that way on valentines day.

So you did what you needed, subconsciously trying to defend his dignity from the flashing of the cameras. You let your hand drop, falling into a confident step beside him as you walked a respectable metre apart, dropping your head as you heard them clamouring desperately from the other side of the street, “Liam!”, “Over here!”

Liam didn't even look at them, but he did in fact notice the loss of contact. And without saying anything, he caught up properly to you, rough fingers reaching out to take your hand, locking your fingers as he kept walking. Not addressing the people across the street, but instead carrying on with you close to his proximity. It was nothing big, but it felt huge. A huge sacrifice, Liam finally letting other people in. 

And then you were smiling the whole way through lunch. Liam frowned at you over his beer, “The fuck’s the matter with you” He accused, leaning back as he crossed his arms over his chest. You just watched him back, eyes sparkling with a mischief not shown in your otherwise innocent expression, wrapping your fingers around your rose glass with a knowing expression, “Nothing, eat your steak”

“Eat your fuckin’ salad and stop looking all weird”

— · ✦ · —

The real reason for Liam’s erratic behaviour was the event later that night. One he had been complaining about for weeks. The BRIT awards, “I mean, who hosts them stupid things on a night I’m meant to be spending with my bird” He’d fumed while sat with you on a couch, the movie playing in the background you’d been trying, very unsuccessfully, to watch, constantly interrupted by Liam’s inherent ability to keep his mouth shut, “I don't think they were particularly bothered about what you’d be up to, Liam” To which he showed great offence with a childish huff, crossing his arms over his chest in pure tantrum.

He’d been invited to present an award, Beady eye might not have been what everyone thought it could be, you personally felt they hadn't been given enough airtime, and it was one more thing you had to heal within him, but the Oasis legacy still lived on. Both brothers had been invited, but regrettably, upon finding out Liam was in attendance Noel had swiftly declined. You'd seen the way Liam’s shoulders had hunched in quiet defeat, but that was an issue you could address with him another time.

You were definitely nervous. I mean, this was the furthest thing ever from your scene, sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing down your dress, changing your earrings four different times, this pair a dangly one, which Liam had tried swatting at like a kitten. He was standing in front of the mirror, zipping up yet another parka - you’d have to count how many he had, this was the third wardrobe change today and you don't actually think you’d seen any of them worn before. “My going out parka” He’d muttered, catching your eyes in the mirror, nodding his chin at you, “Don’t smile weird, yeah?”

He was nervous, you could tell it in the way he stood, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed like it hurt him. You laughed at him, at least he was nervous rather than depressed, you could say this was the thing you were the most grateful for, being here for the small moments. “I don't smile weird” You muttered as you got to your feet, padding across the hardwood floor to wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your face in the space between his shoulder blades, hands resting on his belly just above his parka. “You smile like you've nicked someone's wallet”

His voice wavered slightly. You frowned gently, pulling away from him yet using your grip to coax him to turn in your arms, looking up at him, “You okay?” He just breathed, big hands coming to bracket your hips as he knocked his forehead against yours, “I’m shitting it”

His first official public appearance since the fallout of Beady Eye. Since his divorce. It was bound to rouse some feelings.

But you weren't one to worry, especially when you were both breathing into the space between the two of you, sliding his hands down to grip your ass and tug you against him, “Think we have enough time to give you another present before we leave?” He muttered, breath billowing against your lips, you inhaled sharply, chuckling up at him as your hands wound around his neck, “You already gave me a present” You reminded him, swaying a little bit as he smiled down at you.

He chuckled, leaning his head down to catch your lips in a kiss, hand sliding up to cup your jaw as he walked you back towards the bed. The backs of your knees hit the soft bedding and his hands forced you down, following suit so he was knelt between your parted legs, hands sliding up your knees to the tops of your thighs, “Don’t hurt to have something take the edge off for both of us, eh?” His blue eyes met yours, smiling a little bashfully. You leant forwards, catching his face in your hands, your breathing already laboured as your thumbs stroked the slight stubble growing on his jaw. He seemed to relax almost immediately, nuzzling into your palm, nipping playfully at your wrist, “Yeah thats right” He tapped the side of your thigh, “Lie back gorgeous” His thumbs were already slotting under the hem of your dress.

And you did just what he said, hands sliding into his greying brown hair as you lay back, his hands wasting no time tugging your dress up, tugging your panties down, pooling around your ankles. His hands, warm and calloused from years of use parted your thighs, shuffling closer on the floor as he leant in, licking one languid stripe up your folds. He chuckled when you keened, hands gripping his hair tighter to tug you closer towards him, “Needy fucker” He whispered, breath billowing over your already embarrassingly sensitive clit, his thumb coming to press soft circles over the buzzing bundle of nerves, his other hand coming to spread your folds crudely as he licked into you once again, “Y’wanna know something?” He whispered. God, his voice was so raspy, you loved this about him, how fast he could go from being playful with you, to how filthy he could get in bed.

“Mhm!” Your voice came out high pitched, it made him laugh again, he let up the slow circling of his thumb to press a kiss to your clit, smiling as you whimpered slightly, before wrapping his lips around it, suckling softly as two thick fingers slid into your cunt, working you open so gently, like he just needed to take his time with you. Needed this to calm himself down. “I’m so glad it's you here with me tonight”

You tried to sit up, wanted to look at his face while he spoke to you, your hips shuffling to get away from his tongue working your clit gently. His hand moved to brace around your front, holding you down. You keened softly in disappointment, laying back on the bed, gasping as he used his fingers and tongue to work you closer to a gently sloping edge you were sure to cascade down, fingers curling crudely against the soft spongy spot inside you, “‘M glad its you full stop sweetheart”

His voice cracked slightly, you could see him as he knelt between your thighs, staring up at the ceiling with stars already threatening to burst behind your eyelid, shutting your mouth to muffle the pathetic whines falling from your lips, blinking away tears of pleasure as they sprung at your eyeline, “Y’the best thing for me”

“Happy Valentine’s, darlin’, thank you for being you”

— · ✦ · —

You cleaned yourselves up fairly quickly after he’d made you come twice on his fingers and his tongue, he’d laughed at the state of you when he knelt back on his haunches, pulling you up with him, kissing your forehead before whispering, “You look a mess” but at least he seemed slightly more confident.

The red carpet was the strangest experience of your life, even Liam looked out of place - rough rocker charm against the gentry here to receive awards for their musical contributions, here he was in a parka and jeans surrounded by people in expensive, well thought out garments. But it was all just so quintessentially him, you couldn't help but smile the brightest you had in your whole life as he took your hand and led you down the carpet. Groaning as interviewers eventually swarmed him, desperate for questioning the elusive rockstar Liam Gallagher.

He’d even dragged you in for his interviews. Here you were standing in front of some man in a suit who looked familiar but neither of you could name, stood there smiling with the power of 1000 suns in front of the largest camera you’d ever seen. You stood close to Liam’s side, sensing his somewhat agitated state, looking around like he didn't want to be caught off guard for even a moment.

The man flipped through his notebook, pointing at Liam with a pen and a friendly smile, “So, Liam, you've had a rough couple of years…” Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw clenched as his arms crossed just over her chest, tilting his chin up at the man like he wanted to will him away with his mind. “So what I wanted to ask was, are you finally happy?”

That even caught you off guard. You watched as Liam’s eyes softened, darting to yours for one quick moment like he didn't know what to say. But you did.

“Well, that depends”

The reporter turned to you like he was surprised you even had a voice, shooting you a warm smile with a laugh as he leant forwards, “Oh?”

“Yeah” You said softly, squeezing Liam’s bicep as you leant your head there. He just looked down at you with on cocked eyebrow, “Depends whether anyone lets him finish his beer tonight”

And Liam burst out laughing. A raw, raspy thing that shook his whole body, so infectious that both you and the reporter just had to join in. Your eyes shone with the absolute glee of seeing him happy - it still hurts you sometimes that this happy, silly man you fell head over heels for could be the same man that looked like the entire world was out to get him exactly two years ago tonight. And every photo of Liam was so brilliant because it was real. Pure.

— · ✦ · —

You’d stayed out way longer than either of you had planned. You headed back to your flat at about 3 in the morning, he’d spent the night networking with you hanging off his arm. Introducing you before anything else, buying you drinks, keeping you close to him the whole time like armour. And you just let him, with a big smile on your face as you dutifully greeted and talked to people who you'd mainly forgotten the names of, but you didn't care. All you did care about was the smile on his own face, the laughter, the way he squeezed you tighter like he was having the most fun in the world.

He blinked slightly drowsily as he opened the door for you with one arm, laughing as you ducked under it to scamper into the flat and tug your heels off with a happy sigh. He made his way to sit beside you slumped on the couch, his arm making its way around your shoulder to tug you into him. You let him, of course, resting against his chest with your legs curled to the side, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Didn’t hate that” He mumbled gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he allowed himself to rest there, “You survived Valentine’s” You smiled up at him, patting his chest, “And I completely failed you with my lack of a present”

His lips quirked up at the corners as he tugged you closer to him so you were half sat on his lap, smirking smugly when you adjusted to seat yourself properly there, hands planting themselves on his shoulders as you stared into his eyes. “I still think it’s commercial bollocks” He mimicked you, echoing his words from a time which felt so long ago, squeezing your sides playfully. He laughed as you shrieked and his your face in his chest, shaking his head as his arms made their way around your middle, “Might do it again though”

— · ✦ · —

★2017

2017 saw the return of Liam Gallagher with his debut solo album, “As You Were”. You’d laughed at the title when he told you while he was making you a sandwich, sat at the breakfast bar still in your pajamas - one of his shirts - legs swinging off the stool, “Could that be anymore you?” You’d laughed, eyes sparkling as you’d rested your elbows against the countertop, “Oi” He pointed at you with the knife he was using to dutifully butter the slices of bread, “It’s a mega name”

“I didn't say it wasn’t!”

He’d been basically impossible to live with for an entire week. Writing in a little notebook he eventually tossed aside a computer with a muttered, “Can’t see that squiggly shite” That being his own handwriting. Smoking a full pack of cigarettes almost every single night out of the window. Pacing. Changing lyrics. Changing them again when he muttered that it just didn't feel right. But, he’d even recycled the little riff he’d played for you on the guitar that one time. That meant something. But still, when you went to do the laundry it even followed you there, six different lyric sheets screwed into balls chucked behind the laundry basket. It was so funny that you couldn't even bring yourself to be mad about it.

One morning you’d been trying to make breakfast, sat in your little domestic sphere. Moments like this, it felt weird to think of Liam Gallagher as a famous person, and not just yours alone, about to fry him up some bacon so he could eat his breakfast while he sat on the couch nursing a cup of tea. However, when you opened the fridge to get said bacon, a sheet of lyrics stared up at you. You stifled a laugh, “Why are these in the fridge?” Your voice wavered with your attempts not to burst into absolute laughter, holding the sheet up in one hand as the other kept the fridge propped open, meeting his eyes from over the couch.

He smiled his knowing little grin, shrugging, before turning back to hunch over the computer he was typing incessantly on over the coffee table, “Fresh ideas”

“They’re freezing”

— · ✦ · —

★February 14th 2017

The album had come out, finally, and the first show was booked. Which just so happened to land itself tonight, on Valentine’s day. Liam this time, unlike the BRITs, hadn't made some funny little quip about it ruining all his romantic ideas. He was far too worked up over it for that.

And there you stood with him backstage, the energy on an absolute high. You could hear the crowd practically vibrating with excitement just past the curtains, Liam was bouncing on the balls of his feet finishing off the very end of the cigarette he’d smoked down right until the end, chucking it on the ground. “Never gonna have a normal Valentine’s day, are we pet”

“Nope!” You declared with absolute glee, holding a heavy bouquet of flowers he’d shoved into your hands. “My assistant got them” He looked at you warily, he’d tried to stick to the promise of not getting each other anything yet, for the second year on the trot, he just couldn't help it, “So don't get too mushy about it”. You took them with a big smile on your face, holding them to your chest as you followed him through the venue to start the soundcheck, “Happy Valentine’s to you too my love”. He laughed. You smiled wider.

Yet here he was, stood like he didn't know whether to stay frozen or bolt away from it all. And he was unbearable, kept asking the most ridiculous questions as he looked down at you expectantly.

“Does the voice sound alright?”

“Yes”

Five minutes later.

“Definitely?”

“Maybe”

He scowled at you. You stuck your tongue out at him. 

Again - “You think they’ll come, I mean its Valentine’s after all, maybe I should’ve just spent it with you … not been the best at this romantic shite for y-”

You cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips, cupping your hand over his mouth as you tilted your head, shutting him up just enough to hear the roaring crowd just 10 metres away from your backstage hideout. And you stared up at him for a moment, letting him listen before you brought your hand down, “Liam”

He swallowed, “Yeah?” And you just held his eyes for a moment more before laughing, “There are 12,000 people outside”

He finally got over himself when he was given the five minute warning, hugging you tightly against his chest as he kissed your forehead, “This is for you, baby”

And then he walked on stage. And all you could do was stand there and watch from the side stage as the crowd absolutely exploded at simply the sight of him. He was grinning, really grinning. The iconic Liam Gallagher swagger was back, and it wasn't forced anymore. No lying about his feelings now, no upset, no more wallowing. Just enjoying his life. Natural. 

— · ✦ · —

The concert absolutely flew by, and you stayed there the whole time, still holding onto the flowers like it was a little piece of him you didn't want to let go. You couldn't, not with how happy he looked up there. But you did put them down just in time to see him running backstage like an excited kid, catching himself on you before he ran too far with a big smile on his face, gripping your shoulders, he was practically vibrating as he shook you excitedly, “Did y’hear all them?” He looked back like he wanted to catch a glimpse of them all leaving. You laughed and stabilised yourselves with your hands gripping his arms, “I think the whole country did!”

He pulled you into a hug without even thinking about it, leaning down to crash his lips against yours in an over-enthusiastic kiss, lips locking and teeth clashing as he walked you back against the wall, not even caring about all the roadies who were now flitting about trying to pack all the stuff up, “God, I love you” He muttered against your lips, not even letting you come up for air as he pulled you back into the kiss. This was the best Valentine’s gift you could ever ask for. Seeing him happy.

“Now let's get pissed!” And you let him tug you in the direction of the pub like he was some mad sniffer dog just seeking out booze when he needed it.

— · ✦ · —

★2018

Everything felt like it’d been leading up to this moment. Liam had a daughter, Molly. He’d seen her through social media mainly, little glimpses in photos he saw when he was scrolling on twitter, articles over the years, and from interviews with her mother that claimed Liam to be her father. He knew she was his daughter, but something in him hadn’t felt right with trying to reconnect after all these years of being absent. Until he’d met you and you moulded his life back together in your capable hands, he hadn't even been the best father to his two boys. How would it work adding yet another kid to the mix?

He lost so much sleep over it. Sitting up late at night on the couch, a beer in one grip, the other hand holding the remote which he’d used to mute the tv which was interrupting his thoughts. Sitting. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. It felt like he was back in the past when he’d sit alone thinking about how everything went wrong, why he didn't love his missus anymore. Why Valentine’s every year since he turned 30 had felt so lonely, why his band was falling apart, why he couldn't keep anything long enough for it to mean something, why he couldn't be there for his daughter. But he wasn't alone. And then he saw you, like his guardian angel, padding out of your shared room cocooned by a blanket as you sleepily made your way over to him, “Why aren't you in bed?” You rasped softly, sitting on the other end of the couch to him. You were so tuned into your relationship at this point that you could just tell when something was up. He'd told you about Molly, of course, but for some reason recently it'd been hanging over his head more often than not. 

His jaw clenched gently, knuckles turning white when he gripped the beer bottle so tightly it could've shattered. But he still offered you a slight smile, free hand dropping the remote to push his knuckles against your knees, "I'll be there in a minute pet, don't neglect your beauty sleep for me”. You didn't move, just blinked at his face which looked so much older from the stress. But he still looked so beautiful illuminated by the flashing colours of the silent TV. “Molly again?” You spoke gently, reaching your hand out to cover his where it now rested on your knee, squeezing softly as he exhaled with a laboured sigh, “Yeah”

“You wanna talk about it?” And he did. He opened himself up to you yet again, you could say it still surprised you. But you were grateful for it every single time. You sat there for hours as you worked it through with him. Eventually he made his way to laying his head in your lap as your hands carded through his shaggy brown-grey hair as he talked and talked and talked. It was probably the most you'd ever heard him talk in one sitting. And you stayed quiet the whole time it happened, just bending every so often to press soft little kisses against his hairline as he spoke.

And you even stayed with him as he called Lisa. It took him a while to find her number, and had pulled a directory into his lap which you teased him about. But he didn't care much, dialling her number with shaky fingers as he put it up to his ear. He sat up against you, his back pressed to your chest as you wrapped yourself around him, leaning your head into the crook of his neck, scratching his bicep lightly with your nails as a form of reassurance. You didn't listen as he spoke, decided to give him that much privacy that he deserved, just staying there, holding him.

And then it was arranged. He finally had his daughter's number. And he sent her a message then and there before even talking to you.

Unknown Number: Hi Molly, it’s Liam, your dad. Give me a ring when you’re free and we can sort something out.

Simple. Polite. The most grammar he’d ever used in a single text message. And that was the first night in a while Liam had cried. Not loudly, he just threw his phone down on the couch and turned in your grip so he could press his face into your chest, his shoulders shaking as he silently sobbed into your shirt. You didn't want to cry too, but it broke you seeing him like this. So you just wrapped him up in your cocoon, cuddling him to your chest as his sobs finally broke into calm, deep breaths of sleep.

— · ✦ · —

★February 14th 2018

He rolled out of bed a little later than his usual 6am start. Having laid in bed with you for a while in silence broken only by soft music coming from both of your phones as he shitposted on twitter, and you scrolled your instagram feed with a quiet smile on your face. He rolled over eventually, tugging your phone from your hands to roll over you with a slight smirk on his face, leaning down to kiss your forehead, kissing a hot trail of kisses down to your cheek, and eventually the corner of his mouth, “Another Valentines” He whispered against your lips, brushing his just slightly against yours, “Glad you've stuck me out” He muttered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, brushing your hair from your eyes. “Well, nobody else was gonna do it, were they?”

He watched you for a second as you blinked hazily up at him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, brows furrowing as you yawned underneath him. Oh god, he loved you so much. “You sure you're okay with me not spending today with you, I mean … you can come with me if you want?” His eyes were vulnerable again, but you just shook your head up at him, hand coming up to brush his messy hair out of his eyes, “Nah, you need this, Liam” He nodded, leaning down to kiss you once more, muttering against your lips, “Y’can have me now, darlin’”

He wasted no time with dipping his fingers down to your warm thighs, parting them with one hand as he brushed them through your folds, chuckling warmly against your lips, “You’re this wet this early? Dreamin’ about me were ya?”

“Please, Liam” You looked up at him, and his heart could have broken simply at the sight of your cheeks already flushed, eyes wide with unspoken need, "Don't tease me”

He cooed softly as his hand came up to brush at your lower lip, thumb pushing through your lips to press down against your tongue, exhaling a shaky sigh at how easy your mouth opened for him, “But teasin’ ya is so fun, sweetheart” He whispered, pushing his tongue further down to the back of your tongue, smiling as you gagged softly around his digit. “Isn’t it, baby?” He pushed you as his other hand left your folds to take himself out of his boxers, pumping his dick twice as he rested his hardness against your folds. And he rested there for a moment as you nodded lazily around his finger in your mouth, lips closing around the digits to suckle gently as you looked up into his eyes. He let out the quietest groan, forehead knocking against yours as he began sliding his dick up and down your folds, the two of you just breathing softly into the space as he fucked himself against you, not penetrating yet, just feeling the warmth of each other close by.

“P-please” You eventually whimpered around his thumb, hand searching for his free one to grab it, warm and calloused yet still soft wrapped around yours, “Please what angel? Use yer words” He whispered, pulling his thumb from your mouth to slide them into your hair, tugging gently from the root to tilt your head backwards so he could press his lips to your throat, “Need, need you” You whimpered, squeezing his hand tighter, “Need me where, huh?”

His hand gripped his dick, pulling away from your warmth to pump it gently as he kissed down your throat, nipping slightly just above the vein pulsing up your neck, you whimpered in embarrassment as you shifted underneath him, tugging his face so his eyes could meet yours, your lower lip wobbling with that weapon you knew could make him fold, “Please fuck me, daddy” You whispered.

And he groaned. And then he couldnt take anymore, propping one bent arm above your head to stabilise himself as he pushed into your inviting warmth, both of you moaning in tandem as he eventually bottomed out inside of you, pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss as the tip of his dick pushed against your spongey g-spot perfectly, the sound of your needy little whimpers the sweetest song he’d ever heard, “God, youre fucking trouble”

“But I love you”

His hand tugged your head back so you arched perfectly against him as he began fucking into yu, the slow roll of his hips speeding up with each clench of your walls around him, forehead pressed against yours as he tugged your hair further just to see you squirm, “Happy Valentine’s, beautiful”

— · ✦ · —

You stayed in bed as he got dressed when he finally pulled himself out of your arms. You lay on your side as you watched him, wrapped up in the sheets still warm from his frame sleeping beside you, still carrying the scent of him. And you just watched. He was getting changed - specifically, changing his jackets. Parkas were strewn across the floor, a couple on the bed, one even hit you on the face as he sent it flying towards you as he dashed about senselessly, focused on just looking perfect for his daughter. He was so nervous. Was there even a Valentine’s you'd had together yet that he wasn't nervous? You were just glad to be here.

As he tugged on yet another parka you piped up from the bed, “That’s the fourth one”

He frowned, smoothing down the collar of his shirt as he pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, glaring at you in the mirror, “Third”

“Fifth”

His cheeks dimpled as he finally smiled at you, shaking his head as he tugged the parka off of himself, the action riding his shirt up underneath. To which you wolf whistles, “Looking hot”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth”

— · ✦ · —

By the time you got out of bed, wrapped in your silken robe you’d bought with his money, Liam couldn't lie he often loved ripping it off you whenever he had the time. But this morning he was far too worked up for any of that. He’d changed his shoes, hair, and sunglasses. Everything he could to feel perfect. All so he could meet his daughter. This moment felt even bigger than the last five minutes before walking out on Knebworth back in 1996.

He saw you emerge from the bedroom as he tied the fifth pair of shoes he'd put on for today. Every pair wasn't good enough, too scuffed, too loud, too overdressed. But tying this pair felt right, just as right as he felt when he saw your face, calming the nerves brewing in his gut as he smiled up at you. He rose to stand properly, eyes searching your face carefully as he spoke, spreading his arms out wide, “Do I look alright?” There was that vulnerability again.

You stopped. Because right now Liam wasn't asking if he looked cool. This was him as a dad, nervous to meet his daughter for the first time. It was so domestic, and you loved the fact you could be here for him at this moment. It made you smile. He made you smile.

You walked over, stopping just in front of him as your hands made their way up to his parka, straightening out one of the wrinkles just above the chest where he’d moved slightly, hands resting against his chest as you looked up into his eyes, leaning up on your tiptoes to press a kiss against his stubbled cheek. 

“You look like her dad’

He laughed. And then, just before leaving, he tickled your sides, tackling you onto the couch as he showered your face with little kisses, cuddling you to his chest, overcome with so much love that it completely shattered all the nerves.

— · ✦ · —

Hours later, you’d curled yourself up on the couch, reading a book one of your girlfriends had recommended to you. Liam didn't have a bookshelf, you weren't even entirely convinced he could actually read, and despite your pushing, he’d declared it a “Complete waste of time”, and put his foot down. Oh well, now your books lay in a pile next to the couch. One day they’d have a home, but that wasn't today.

You made yourself comfortable, the flat was completely clean, smelling like cheap cleaning products which made it feel like a real home, clothes tumbling in the dryer, the windows open sending a soft draft your way as you turned the page. You didn't even look up as the key turned in the lock.

The door opened and he was quiet, you felt your stomach tense with quiet worry as usually he’d be rabbiting non-stop about the day he had. But he was completely silent, no swagger. But the air felt different. He came and sat beside you, letting you stretch your feet into his lap as his warm hands made their way to your ankles, circling little patterns onto the skin there. Before resting there.

Eventually, “She’s funny”

You set your book down on your lap, folding the corner of the page you were on over as you smiled back up at him, “Yeah?” He laughed, nodding his head as he squeezed your ankle gently, his cheeks flushed both from the cold outside and the joy of the day he’d been so anxious about working out perfectly, a big smile on his face as he allowed himself to sink further down against the couch, “Yeah she takes the piss” He said it with a sigh that said he never wanted to let go of today, was currently filing it in his memory to keep forever, his phone already chiming, her profile picture lighting up against the background of you laughing at something stupid he said. “Yeah she’s definitely mine” He picked up the phone, reading the text messages with the phone brought up close to his face to read it properly, smirk softening into a quiet smile as his blue eyes flickered across the words, analysing everything he saw on the screen, “My girls” He said it so quietly you’d think he’d never said it. But he did.

He spent the next hour talking about Molly. Going into immense detail about the exact ways in which she looked like him, same eyes, lips, jaws, “Poor fucker even got m eyebrows” He said, smiling as you handed him a cup of tea just to tug you into his side as he continued. Talking about the bands she liked, the friends she told him about, how she got on in school, what GCSEs she’d gotten, how proud he was of her.

He’d fallen asleep mid telling you some funny story about how a bird had shit and it just narrowly missed his shoulder, and the two of them had found it so funny they could hardly finish their drinks. And you found yourself watching him again. He fell asleep with a quiet smile on his face, lashes fluttering against his relaxed cheek as he snored softly, and you smiled right back, curling up into his side.

“Love you so much old man” You whispered into his ear, resting your cheek against his as you felt him shuffle slightly from your breath against his ear, wrapping your arms around his neck as you settled into his side, “So glad you had a good time” You muttered into his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat, the soft scent of his expensive cologne, the faint footprint of cigarette smoke still clinging to his clothes, “Happy Valentine’s day … I love you more than you will ever know”

— · ✦ · —

★February 14th 2019

Something was up with Liam. You didn't quite know what, but he’d woken up strangely … romantic. And you’d woken up horny, because his head was buried between your thighs.

“L-Liam?” You mumbled sleepily, your next words caught with a moan as you felt faint suction over your clit between your thighs, propping yourself up on your elbows. Liam emerged from under the covers with a big smile on his face, cheeks flushed pink from the warmth of your body, hair all messy. He’d let it grow out a little bit, now it was long, dusted with a little more salt than pepper this year, the sun last year had bleached the ends a somewhat blonde colour, and his jaw was dusted with slightly grown out stubble.

Holy Fuck.

“Happy Valentine’s, darlin’” The same routine. But you couldnt actually bring yourself to care as he hovered above you, leaning down into an enthusiastic kiss, hands sliding up to grip your jaw as he slipped his tongue between your lips, pulling the covers off the two of you to flip you over on top of him, “How ‘bout you pay me back darlin’” He smiled, patting your thigh before gripping it, tugging you forward so your cunt, bare from him fucking you into the sheets last night and collapsing into sleep together, rolled against his growing hardness, “Since that was your gift for today”

You chuckled down at him, leaning back so you could grab his own hard dick, pumping it once, twice, before planting your free hand on his chest to sink down onto him. You both breathed out mirrored breathy moans at the sensation of him bottoming out. But something in his face caught you, he looked … oddly smug? “What?” You breathed softly as you started rolling your hips against his, hands sliding down to stabilise yourself on his belly as you lifted your hips once, slowly lowering them, the stimulation making you hiss in a puff of air.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. He still had that glint in his eyes though. And then his hands gripped your ribs, flipping you so you were face down in the sheets, arm sliding around your throat from the back burrowing you against his bicep, tugging you back so your back pressed against his front as his hips slid against yours, fucking you harder than you were, “Nothin’, dont worry about it” He breathed against your ear. His hips sped up, snapping against yours as the crude sound of wet skin slapping filled the room as he chuckles, “All you need is for daddy to fuck you proper, yeah? What you worried about”

Well this was weird. But you couldnt bring yourself to think about it as he pushed your face down into the sheets, pinning you down with his hand planted on the back of your head as he fucked you harder, stars already threatening to burst behind your eyelids. Happy Valentine’s day to you

— · ✦ · —

After your little session that morning, he’d looked like he wanted to say something all day long. Eating breakfast at the dining table together, you crouched over a bowl of cereal, he had a piece of warm buttered toast. You’d been going through all the things you wanted to do with him today, just spending a normal Valentine’s day together, “How about that restaurant downtown? Not the one in London, I don't want you spending London prices…”

You carried on talking. He had his hand kept in his pocket the entire time. You hadn’t noticed, just kept pushing around the rainbow cereal you’d insisted on buying because “Isn’t it just so cute!” and he pushed it into the trolley immediately with a shake of his head. 

He looked up at you. You weren't looking. But god you looked so beautiful in the morning light filtering through the window, your hair fluttering around your face. You looked like a little fairy. Wow, he was so gone. His hand tightened around the thing in his pocket, lips parted like he was about to say something. And then the phone rang. And you darted up to get it.

— · ✦ · —

The restaurant. Of course he’d taken you to the one you wanted to visit earlier. And he’d even insisted on getting a booth hidden away from the rest of any prying eyes. “Very secretive, Romeo” he laughed as he guided you to the table, nodding at one side of the booth for you as he slipped into the other, “Romeo is my middle name” He winked at you, sitting down and you immediately began twittering on again.

His hand stayed in his pocket the entire time. He nodded along dutifully to everything you said, hand clasped around the little object in his pocket, waiting for the perfect moment for him to pull it out and give it to you.

“Have you seen these prices?”

“Yeah, proper swindle aint it love” his hand was still caught in yours from across the table, he hadn't let go. Not that you would either, but usually you let him drop it after a while of him deciding it was ‘too mushy’. But it was Valentine’s day. And you looked so pretty. Oh god he was gonna do it, his hand tightened in his pocket, lips parting for the second time that day, “So, uh,...” He swallowed gently, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “I got something I wanna ask you, darlin’”

You looked up from the menu, smiling softly with a tilt of your head as you said, “Go on then, why are you sat there like some-”

“Can I get you two drinks?”

The moment was gone, and with a sigh he pulled his hand out of his pocket to check the menu and see what beers they had on draft 

— · ✦ · —

It carried on like that all day. On a walk, underneath the newly blossoming trees as the season turned to spring, you hung off his arm as you gushed about the flowers. His hand almost left his pocket again. And then a fan came up wanting a picture.

The cinema, maybe it wasn't really a romantic place, but there was some soppy little rom-com playing on the big screen in front of the two of you, the contact of your hand laced in his was almost electric as you laughed at the screen, shovelling popcorn into your mouth as you looked up at him, eyes sparkling from pure, unfiltered enjoyment, “You okay?” You mouthed over the sound on the screen, he leant in, pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Better than okay… about earlier-”

“Is that Liam Gallagher?"

— · ✦ · —

Liam was getting overly irritated. Once your itinerary was over for the day, the two of you still felt impossibly wide awake. You’d walked to the chippy, you bought a portion of chips and two cans of coke while he stood outside having a smoke. Hyping himself up. He’d gotten in an increasingly bad mood as the day progressed, every time you were interrupted together. It was now or never. He fixed his face, however, when you walked out with all your purchases cradled in your arms, he swiftly took off you, letting you lead the way.

You walked to Hyde park. It wasn't long, so neither of you felt like you needed to fill the silence, making your way down the battered dirt path to your guy's secret little location where a bench overlooked the water. It was so beautiful this time of night, the moonlight over the rippling waters, the slight hum of all the grasshoppers going to sleep in the never city grasses. You sat on the bench in silence together, he’d shoved the chips into your lap, not looking at you as you immediately began feasting, you hadn't realised how hungry you got. Liam kinda loved that. He knew he had to do it.

Liam sat back on the bench with a dramatic little sigh. You turned to him just in time to see him digging in his pocket, pulling out something small … black … square.

And then he chucked the ring box into your lap. You didn't say anything, stopped chewing your mouthful of chips as you looked up at him confused, resuming your chewing, hands reaching for the box as you opened it.

It was a ring. Quite literally the most beautiful one you’d ever seen, it was thin, white-gold with a big diamond nestled in the center, bordered by little gems glistening brightly around the outside. The moonlight cast light shadows of the ring across your face, and all you could do was blink, hands shaking as you looked up at him in complete surprise.

“Will y’marry me?” he asked softly, he got that vulnerable look again, hands planted on his jeans as he waited for your response.

“...”

You blinked. Looked down at the box. Looked back up at him, “...that’s it?” Your voice was shaky with untold emotion, pressing your lips into a thin line as you watched his face. He smirked gently, cheeks dimpling as he shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips as he pulled his sunglasses off, letting him properly see his blue eyes staring into yours, “Benn trying all bloody day”

And that was it. You started laughing until tears were streaming down your face, shaky fingers lifting the box so you could properly inspect the ring nestled on the plush velvet insides, sniffling. It wasn't pretty, this sight, Liam laughing his head off at you losing your absolute shit over him asking you to marry him, you had tear tracks in your makeup, were mid wiping snot from under your nose, “This is so bad” You laughed, a sound caught in a sob as he smiled at you, tilting his head, “Well?”

“You didn't even ask me properly!” You sobbed out a giggle as you wiped your eyes, unable to take them off the glittering little ring in the box that was now shaking violently from you holding it, “I just did!” Liam exclaimed with fake offence, hand coming up so cup yours where it held the box where your shaking hand couldn't hold it properly, “No speech?” You smiled up at him as he shuffled closer on the bench, lowering your hands to rest the ring box in your lap

“I love you” He shook your shoulders with the most serious expression in the world, you sniffled, nodded, “Better”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, hands squeezing your shoulders like he was scared to properly ask the question he had so brusquely just a minute ago, hand coming up to cup your cheek, “Will you marry me, sweetheart?”

You sobbed once more. It made him laugh, seeing your face all crumpled up with emotion as you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choked out a tense little, “Of course I will!”

He didn't kiss you, just smiled wider than he ever had as he pulled you in for a hug, one hand cupping the back of your head as he cuddled you close, pressing rapid little kisses to your temples as you sobbed in his arms, “Thought you were gonna say no”

And he just laughed when you slapped him. And then you let him slide the ring onto your finger, the two of you just staring down at the glimmering rock now in its rightful place on your left hand. You could’ve swore you’d seen Liam’s eyes glazing over with the threat of tears. 

— · ✦ · —

★2020

Somehow, you literally do not know how, but the two of you had managed to keep the engagement under wraps. And Jesus Christ was it hard, taking your engagement ring off when you left the house, leaving at different times to be seen as little as possible so the press couldn’t get the chance to speculate. But it was absolutely worth it.

Everyone around you, your friends, his kids, both of your parents were all assuming wedding planning would be romantic. It wasn’t. Actually it was actually complete chaos. Both of you were so excited, even the air itself in the flat felt lighter ever since he’d popped the question. But you’d been engaged for almost a year by now, and actually - neither of you knew how to plan a wedding. Despite the fact Liam had been married twice before already.

It was a sunday morning, and the dining table had completely disappeared. In place of the light hardwood top there were magazines. Venue brochures. Colour samples. Guest list printouts, cake categories. And you just sat there with a confused expression on your face, surrounded by sticky notes in rainbow colours because of course you couldn't just have one colour of anything, a few sticking to your jumper, a few on the floor. Some even had writing on them.

Liam wandered through in yesterday’s t-shirt, rubbing his eyes, still half asleep. He took one look at the table and stopped in his tracks, “...What the fuck’s happening in here?” You blinked out of your wedding induced trance, taking one look at him as you blinked, “You said we’d start planning”

“I meant eventually”

“You said we’d start today”

“I lied”

He ducked with a laugh as you sent a brochure flying towards his head, shaking his head with a tut as you let your head knock down against the table, banging it like you could infuse all the wedding planning wisdom into your head by sheer willpower.

Liam just picked the brochure up and, without looking at it, started using it as a coaster.

You even spent hours making a pinterest style mood board. Very elegant yet simple: cream flowers, candles, fairy lights. You set down the purple pretty stick you'd been using to construct it on a big white poster board, crossing your legs on the floor as you sit back against the couch, handing it up to Liam who was currently nursing a beer while staring open mouthed at a city game, “So?” You said excitedly.

Liam studied it, a smirk tugging at the left side of his mouth. There was a long pause, “Needs more pubs”. You frowned, turning also to look up at the city game on the telly, boring, blinked up at him, “Pubs?”

“Looks dead fancy”

“It’s meant to be fancy, Liam”

“Exactly”

“Alright” You muttered, leaning your head back against the couch with a sigh, shrugging, “What’s your idea then?”

He, without a word, leant over you, grabbing a black sharpie from the pile of otherwise rainbow coloured ones, taking the cap off with his teeth as he squiggles a stickman wearing sunglasses, writing in his horrible handwriting, “FREE BAR”

You rolled your eyes when he handed it back down to you, holding the poster board in two hands as you studied his graffiti with a slight pout on your face, knocking your temple against his knee as you sighed, “That’s not a moodboard”

“Best mood anyone’s ever been in”

— · ✦ · —

Later that month, the wedding was creeping up fast. So you’d managed to drag Liam on a couple of venue visits. Right now, you were touring an expensive country estate - Shilstone estate up in Devon. Liam had grumbled about it the entire time the two of you drove up there, well, it was only you driving, but he still had plenty to say about it, “Stupid name, shitstone”, “It’s Shilstone, darling”, “That’s what I said!”

The venue was gorgeous, sprawling green gardens, one walled, one terraced, there was even a pool - which Liam was very childishly excited about, the house was gorgeous, whitewashed walls with perfectly polished darkwood floors, high ceilings with expensive chandeliers, multiple open spaces to fit the hefty guest list you and Liam had been drafting - “You know too many people for your own good, Liam” You’d chastised as you sat in bed together one night, “Well it is just a draft I suppose” You muttered, tucking the list under the pillow. Liam had just smiled, snaking one hand around your waist to pull you into his side, he couldn't sleep without your warmth beside him anymore, “I’m a man in high demand”

The tour guide, however, was painfully enthusiastic, letting the two of you in, wearing a shirt and tie with perfectly pressed slacks, gesturing one hand wide across the light room you found yourselves in, “And here we have our eighteenth-century ballroom”

Liam just nodded politely. You know that look, you hid a smile in his arm as you pressed your face to it under the guise you were turning in his grip. He’s not listening. You let Liam pull you outside, following the tour guide while whispering together like little kids as you were shown around. The tour guide paused in the first of many gardens, “Our gardens are perfect, of course”

You snorted slightly at his accent, mimicking back his words in a very posh whisper to Liam, who squeezed your hand to stop himself from laughing out loud, “...Looks cold” He whispered into your temple as he lifts his arm to drape it over your shoulder, “It’s January, Liam”

“Exactly”

You reached the reception room, watching with lids growing heavy as the guide explained possible seating arrangements. You almost groaned internally when Liam leaned over to you, elbowing you gently, “Where d’you reckon chips go?”. You blinked, looking away from the guide as he walked all over the rooms, the guy was basically planning his own wedding at this point, “What?”

“Late night chips” You frowned, hissing out a warning, “Liam”

“People get hungry” He shot you an innocent look, a shrug, and then his trademark smug smile as he got you around the shoulders, tugging you over to where the guide was, almost perfectly, in the middle of saying, “...and then your evening buffet-”

Liam's eyes flashed bright, jolting you forward as he almost yelled, “There!”, and he pointed triumphantly at the table where he was already imagining bowls upon bowls of fries, smiling as he turned back to you, currently faceplanting as you shook your head in utter embarrassment, “Told ya”

— · ✦ · —

The next part was the most difficult, arguably even more difficult from the cake tasting, in which Liam had declared his dream cake was, “One with jam” you’d paused your own bite, staring up at him with a confused expression, to which he’d shrugged and said, “What? I like jam?”

But this part was the worst. The guestlist. You had a notebook, and Liam held absolutely no interest in the whole constitution. It went a little something like this.

“Family first”

“Yep”

You jotted something down, “Band?” You said softly, wondering if he’d want the backing for his solo shows there, he just nodded his head, drumming out a lazy beat on your leg where his hand was resting. You nodded, writing dutifully, mumbling “...friends” To which Liam had said yet another, “yep”

You hesitated while writing names down in complete silence. Almost automatically, you’d written an N just underneath his mother’s name. How were you gonna approach that one? You set the pen down, turning your head to look up at him, “...Noel?” Silence. He didn’t even look up from the telly.

“No”

“Liam”

“No”

“It’ll come up eventually”

“It just did”

You sighed in proper exasperation, sitting up properly on the couch as you set the notepad down on the couch, turning to look up at him, “I’m serious”. His eyes flickered softly, looking down at the couch as he picked a loose thread, turning it over in his hand, before throwing it to the ground, “So am I”

The look on his face made you give up eventually, shutting the book with a laboured sigh as you sat back into his side, reaching your hand to rub at his belly, “I guess we don't have to decide today”

“I just did”

— · ✦ · —

You’d just gotten home from getting ice cream when the phone on the wall rang. You had chocolate chips dripping down your fingers to your wrist which you licked up dutifully whilst you multitasked letting yourself through the door. Liam had the remnants of his vanilla, sadly, cone, which he immediately dumped in the bin the second his phone rang. “Hey I would’ve” But he cut you off with a cheeky look, shushing you as he mutters, “It’s bonehead” You rolled your eyes, trudging over to the couch where you began sorting through the invites set to be sent out tomorrow, sorting them into piles while you ate the rapidly melting ice cream.

Liam sat down beside you, phone pressed to his ear as he answered, “Alright?” You continued eating and sorting as Liam paused, letting Bonehead talk down the speaker at him. In your wedding haze you didn't even notice the way Liam’s brows furrowed, the way he sat back properly on the couch, crossing one leg over his bent knee, “What d’ya mean he knows?” A pause, “...How” A longer pause. It was long enough for you to slowly look up at him, long enough for Liam to begin pacing back and froward, casting a look to the piles of invites, “I haven't even invited anybody yet”

You started smiling. Ah. The news has clearly made its way back to the other Gallagher brother. Bonehead said something which made Liam pause in his pacing by the sink, gripping the sink with one hand, the other pinching his nose as he trapped the phone between his shoulder and his ear, quickly snapping out, “I didn't even invite you, you cheeky bastard” Down the phone, like shouting could convey the message to Noel who was obviously sat with Bonehead right now.

There was more talking, you looked down at the invites in your lap, slyly hiding the one with “Noel + family” Written on the front under your leg to bin later. You didn’t want to add any more stress to his face that literally looked like it was aging ten minutes every second, he pushed himself off from the sink, holding the phone out as he began gesturing wildly, “Tell him if he’s bothered he can send himself a bloody invitation.

You started laughing at his outburst, and Liam couldn't help but reciprocate, his fuming sounded less serious as a laugh barked up from his throat, pointing at you with a big smile on his face, “Don’t encourage him”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

Bonehead started laughing so hard Liam had to hold the phone away from his ear.

Yet, despite all the complaints, all the arguments over colours, the tension surrounding the guest list. The wedding managed to not fall through. You cried. Liam cried. Then he cursed out the entire venue in his vows you hadn’t even expected him to write. Your first dance happened to a Beatles song. It wasn’t a storybook wedding by any means.

But you became Mrs. Gallagher on a Sunday. Sunday, the fourteenth of February, 2020. 7 Years to the date in which you became the sunshine in Liam’s miserable life.

— · ✦ · —

★2021

Not every argument the two of you have is really what you’re arguing about. Especially when touring puts a strain on your relationship. He’d been gone touring for what felt like an age, even if it was just two months. You’d gone through the flat sale on your own, put an offer in for a house with him on the phone mid soundcheck, you’d packed up the flat with help from Lennon and Gene who gave up their Saturday when their dad couldn’t come to help you.

But he was home now.

The night he came home had felt electric. Being newlyweds, it felt like you’d gotten that first year buzz of a normal relationship whose beginnings hadn't been ruined by the other partner being completely miserable. He fucked you against every surface of the new house that night, the first time he’d seen it with it being just your two, on the floor in the bedroom where the bed hadnt been made yet, snarling into your ear as he pinned you down with his large hands as his hips snapped into yours, “Just lettin’ me fuck you on the floor? Fuck, you havent changed have you? Dirty fucking girl”

He’d dragged you to the couch that was still covered in plastic, and with a growl he’d pushed you off him, forcing you down onto your knees to suck his dick. Hell yeah, being married was great. But not always.

New house. Boxes upon boxes upon boxes, you felt like you were going insane, nothing was where it was meant to be, your little flat you’d grown together over the years to include the perfect balance of him and you, not that there was much of him before you, was gone - had exploded now into a nice 6 bed just outside of London, gone was sharing one bathroom, ducking around each other in the morning so you could go for a pee and hold his hand while he brushed his teeth, now there was an array of bathrooms to choose from. It wasn't home yet, but home was wherever he was. And to him, home was you. Warm, safe, loving. The two of you can work through anything.

But that wasn't without the two of you going absolutely insane.

You’d challenged yourself to take on the kitchen, a massive space with granite countertops and french windows which opened up into a massive garden. You daydreamed about lace curtains fluttering in the evening light as you and Liam sat outside on a warm summer night - yet here you were, on your hands and knees, digging through a box. A box which, actually, upon opening, surprised the shit out of you. You picked up one kettle, and counted three others in the box, “Why have we got four kettles?” You called out to him, he was standing in the hall, under the guise of going to get the heavy stuff from the living room and arranging it himself, but he was actually just standing there on his phone. “Uh” He called back. And you couldn't help but get a little irritated at the amount of time he was taking to respond, “One might break”

You sat back on your haunches with a sigh, wanting to melt through the floorboards and just be transported back in time to your flat when all these boxes weren't looming over you, and the biggest design choice was where to put that bowl by the door, “But four?”

“Prepared”

Ikea came to add to the mess later that very same day. You’d wanted a wardrobe, one you had to build, and you’d insisted you could do it yourself to Liam, really! And he was a man that listened to his wife. But now you stood in the empty master bedroom, staring down at what looked like 2 instruction manuals, 15 large sheets of wood, and a million tiny screws. You reached for an instruction manual, flipping it open in confusion. But Liam shut it again, and as you shot him an exasperated look, he just shrugs his shoulders, “Don’t need ‘em”

“You haven't even looked” You threw your hands in the air, reaching back for the paper, “I’ve got instincts” He declared with a shit eating grin on his face.

“You absolutely do not”

“I absolutely do my darling”

Two hours later, the wardrobe was standing. Barely. Liam was sitting on the floor, staring up at it glumly. You’d noticed touring had taken a lot out of him, but at least your husband was still inside. You walked around it, staring down at it like a critic would a piece of art they didn't like, tilting your head, not taking your eyes away from it, “...Liam?” That snapped him out of his trance, head lifting so his tired eyes could meet yours, “It’s backwards”

“No it ain’t” He was on his feet in a second, coming to your side to examine the wardrobe in the same way you had. He barged you out of the way with his shoulder so he could look. You glared at him, rubbed your arm while you muttered, “Dick” Walking around the other side as you looked at him over the piece of furniture. He looked defeated. Jaw clenched in a way that could snap at any moment. 

You were both tired,hungry, frustrated. And it all started in that room. You laughed as you took in his expression, trying to make light out of his obvious gloominess. Wrong decision.

“Oh don't laugh” He snapped at you, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at you. You covered your mouth with one hand, eyes wide and sparkling with glee as you tried to stifle your laugh, holding one hand up as you giggles, “Im sorry-”

“No you’re fucking not” Woah. He’d never spoken to you like that. You let your arms drop, all the humour suddenly gone from your face as you opened your mouth, trying to walk around the wardrobe. But he was already walking off down the bare, undecorated hallway, “I didnt mean it, Liam-” You tried to catch his arm and he shrugged you off, turning around to glare down at you, “Y’always fucking laugh at me, I get it, I’m a fucking idiot darlin’” He started walking away from you, gesturing around him, “My hard work pays for all this shite you want, but im the bad guy for not being able to build your poncey furniture”

You stammered slightly as you stood there, hand half outreached like you wanted to grab for him again, stopping just short of the kitchen as he banged about, making himself a cup of tea, “But it was funny!” You hated how small you sounded. You had never sounded that small around him and Liam fucking hated him. He wondered if a curse was following him, like the second he got married he was allowed to have fun for a while but then it all went to shit. But he was too proud to turn around and have a look at your hurt expression, “It aint funny” He set the mug down on the counter a little too hard, gripping the edges of the counter. You tried your luck once more, padding towards the breakfast bar as you sat yourself on the stool, smiling a little shakily at his back, “You built a wardrobe facing the wall”

“I KNOW”

You both sat there in silence for a second. Your face caught somewhere between shock and hurt. And you just sat there. The clock you’d hung yourself ticked menacingly behind the two of you. You blinked back the tears threatening at your waterline. Trying to stop your lower lip from wobbling, it would be pathetic to cry. He eventually turned himself around, scrubbing his hands down his face as he faced you, his face filled with a guilt that looked almost painful.

You blinked up at him, letting in a shaky breath, “This isn’t about the wardrobe, is it?” You whispered. He clenched his jaw, looking down at the tile, “No”

But Liam wasn't a complete arsehole, especially not to you. Without another word, he walked up to you, bending his frame over yours as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, big hands stroking your back as you fought back tears, “I’m so sorry” He whispers, his rough manchester accent almost soft now as he breathed against your skin, pressing a kiss to your collarbone when you let in a shaky breath, “Shouldn’t’ve raged at you like that” He breathed, pulling back to kiss your forehead.

You watched him cautiously now, watched as he walked like it hurt to go and sit on a box just across from you, keeping eye contact as you stared at him down. You needed to talk about whatever the fuck just happened.

He rubbed his hands down his face, looking like he’d just aged about ten years. And for a split second, you saw him. Not the Liam Gallagher you’d grown to love, not the man you built a life with over the past 8 years. No, you saw the broken Liam Gallagher you met in that pub 8 years ago, the man who looked like he was about five seconds away from drinking far too much or walking out into the road without looking. And it hurts you to see. So, instead of being upset, you leant forward. Listening. Liam hadn’t had anybody who was as willing as you to forgive him, and even love him for all his thoughts. So he started, 

“I’ve been away more” He muttered. The tour, it felt like it’d driven a wall between the two of you. You hadn’t even discussed how the tour was going to work, and it all came so fast you couldn't make arrangements with the selling of the flat and moving into the new house for you to come along. So you just said, “I know”

He blinked. That small ‘I know’ was a lot more than you just acknowledging the fact he’d been away. You felt it too. “You don’t say anything”

“I don't want you feeling guilty”

“I already do”

A long silence passed in which nothing was heard apart from your breathing and the clock still ticking out a now calming rhythm on the wall. You pushed off your stool, walking over to him with a sad little smile on your face, plonking yourself next to him on the box, but didn't touch him. His frame felt rigid beside you. Not warm like he usually was. But you knew it wasn’t his fault.

“We’re just tired” You muttered, leaning your head against his bicep. Yet, even despite his coldness, he still found it within him to drape an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he breathed out, “I hate leavin’”

“I know”

“I hate comin’ back and feelin’ like I’ve missed stuff” You blinked softly, looking up at him, “You haven’t”

But he didn't look back at you, just shrugged as he looked down at his free hand laying idle in his lap, clenching his fingers into a fist. Unclenching them. “Feels like I have”

You reached for his hand, “We’ll work it out”

He went out. Walk straight out of the door after the two of you sat in a silence that was so thick with tension you could probably touch the air and feel it. You let him go. And you found yourself in the living room on the couch, the only piece of furniture you’d managed to put up today. And you waited.

Twenty minutes. Thirty. And eventually, the front door opened. You heard his sigh as he kicked his shoes off by the door, and dropped his keys in the little bowl you’d kept. You loved that sound. Loved hearing him come home, loved having him by. Loved that even after everything he’d been through he still trusted you enough to come home to you when he had enough time for himself, when for the first year, you were never sure. He appeared in the doorway. He had his hands full and it made you smile, reminding you of that Valentine’s day back in 2016, when he’d burst through the door with an armful of stuff from Tesco. And tonight was no different, he was carrying flowers in one hand, draped across his arm was a plastic white bag filled with food that smelled like a Chinese takeaway, and somehow, another houseplant.

You didn't say anything dramatic, didn't leap up to greet him. But as you sat there cross legged on the couch, you couldn't help but smile at the houseplant he was holding up like a trophy, “...Why?” You eventually asked. He grinned down at you. And just like that, it was like nothing happened, “It looked sad”. You laughed at him, sitting up properly as you watched him set the plant down, placed the takeaway bag down on the floor as he dropped a kiss on your temple, “You bought it because it looked lonely?” Your smile deepened as he set himself down on the couch, “Aye” He smiled, handing you the flowers. You looked down at them with a slight chuckle, holding them up like they were your very own trophy, “So these aren't apology flowers, I’m assuming?”

“Nope”

“And the chow mein?”

“Now, thats definitely an apology, I fucking hate that stuff”

He was back. 

You ate the takeaway on the couch in dead silence, with your hands because neither of you could be bothered finding the forks in the mess. And everything was messy, sure. But it was yours.

“We’re fixing the wardrobe tomorrow” You reminded him around a mouthful of noodles you’d managed to shovel into your mouth, he just shook his head, and around a spring roll he murmured, “No we ain’t, the fuckers got character”

You slapped his arm and he yelped, you both laughed as you complained further about the state of everything. But at least the two of you were okay. He’d saved it. Saved you from leaving. Not that you ever would, but the thought was always present in the back of his mind. He's going to be okay. 

But that didn't mean he couldn't take the piss out of the state of you trying to shove two pieces of broccoli around the noodles already crammed into your mouth.

— · ✦ · —

★14th February 2022

Quite literally, the least dramatic Valentine’s day you’d ever had was this one. And it was fucking chaotic. Liam had the bright idea to invite the entire family around to all spend Valentine’s together “Like sickening little baby birds all canoodling together” He’d mocked as he chased you around the kitchen table. At 49 years old he still acted like an absolute child sometimes. Somehow, you made it work. The holiday Liam had once dismissed as “Commercial shite” had over the years become something much more to his once cold heart. It was bigger than romance. It was family, noise, home, showing appreciation for the people who’d managed to make his life feel like living again.

You, Molly, Gene and Lennon sat in a now perfectly decorated living room, the kids swapping stories and telling you how they’d been since they last saw you. You never could’ve imagined yourself becoming a mother, no less a step mother at your age, but you’d began to love these kids like they were your own. And they loved you too, not as a mother, but not just their dad’s wife, someone they could turn to. It made your heart feel sickeningly tight and warm. And you loved all that shite.

What you didn’t love, was Liam’s appearance when he appeared in the doorway, grinning his shit eating grin. He had a fucking apron on. Your heart sank. Oh no.

“I’m cookin’ today kids!”

Everybody immediately objected, Lennon sat up straight from the floor where he’d been lounging lazily with a loud, “Woah woah woah!” Gene’s face fell where he was sat next to you, “Oh dad, please don't"

Molly even piped up, “You remember Christmas?” Liam had tried to cook a turkey. It was miserable, like eating rubber. You’d all put a smile on your face until Liam eventually stood up with a declaration, “This is complete shite”. You all burst out laughing because, really, it was fucking horrible. 

You smiled from your end of the couch, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at Liam, he narrowly dodged it, opening his arms wide as if to say, “Hey! What the fuck?”

You just laughed. He tutted, rolling his eyes, “You’re all utter melts and I’m offended”

— · ✦ · —

Liam cooking was something that nobody wanted to be around to see, however the four of you decided to casually sleuth into the kitchen to keep an eye on him as he banged about. And it was an absolute disaster. The smoke alarm went off so many times you’d all just tuned it out, the high pitched little whine no longer auditory with how long it’d been going off for. He burnt the garlic bread, dropped all of the potatoes which you then had to rescue and step in for.

A bird even got in. A bird! You couldn't make that shit up. And it even managed to steal a little bit of chicken Liam hadn't noticed fell to the floor and was currently flapping about the kitchen as Liam chased it with a tea towel, “Oi! You little thief”. Molly was crying laughing while filming the whole thing on her phone, Gene and Lennon could hardly breathe as they watched the entire thing form the dining table. You just watched. Didn’t help, didn't step in. The chaos was somehow perfect. You loved it. But it was also funny seeing an almost 50 year old man lose himself over making a meal for 5 people.

Dinner came after four painstaking hours of Liam who'd only managed to cook chicken, broccoli, a little bit of poorly seasoned clumped together rice, some carrots, all of it doused in a sauce that you couldn’t quite name. The comfortable silence the two of you usually sat in was gone, filled with the sound of his children chattering, you joining in, Liam laughing loudly. He loved this, loved that he could have all his family here in one place. It felt so different from that time Gene came to visit him in the old flat, this felt homely, this felt perfect. He did actually owe it all to you.

You caught him looking around the table, watching as his kids laughed while packing up the remnants of Liam’s slightly burned cooking effort, the softest smile on his face as he leant in to whisper to you, “Not bad this” He muttered, reaching out to hold your hand. You held it back with your own smile to mirror his, squeezing his hand as your free hand reached to place itself on his knee under the table.

“Not bad at all” You agreed. And you waited until his eyes met yours, and you smiled at him.

“Happy Valentine’s, grumpy”

— · ✦ · —

★February 14th 2023

Your 8th Valentine’s together as a couple started with a bang. Literally. 

You and Liam, well you specifically had woken up at 8 in the morning with a bright, fresh new fervor. Something had changed in Liam the second he turned 50. He’d cut his hair back into a short yet shaggy mod, his eyes felt deeper set than when you met him in 2014, his jaw more masculine, he kept the stubble that you adored, the one you loved rubbing against your cheek, burning the skin on the insides of your thighs when he went down on you after a long day. He looked bigger too, had filled out into a proper man’s body over the years, thick arms taught with muscle that didn't show itself but you felt it when his strong arm wrapped around your waist, the way you could feel the entirety of his body when you wrapped your arms around his middle for a hug. Yeah, 50 suited him well. Which was why, this morning, like many others, began with you riding yourself almost crazy on his lap.

“God youre fuckin’ mad” Liam groaned from underneath as the pace of your hips sped up, your eyes rolling back from just how deep he was hitting inside of you. You moaned in return, eyes squeezing shut as you reached forward to rub tight circles on your clit, walls pulsing around him almost violently as you managed to whimper out, “C-cant help it, y’look so fucking fit” You whimpered. And he grinned, of course, slapping your hand away as he replaced it with his own, rubbing rapid circles against your buzzing bundle of nerves, his other hand reaching around the back of your neck to tug you forward so you could make proper eye contact with him, “My needy girl, eh?” You nodded pathetically, he shook his head with a tut, the hand gripping your neck sliding down to slap your face once, twice, playful little hits that made your face sting and your walls clench around him, “Oh ho ho” He laughed at the expression on your face, caught in pure lust as you bounced up and down on him.

His hand caught your jaw, the other leaving your clit to hook a thumb into your mouth, tugging it to the side just to see you whine as he manhandles his face to your will. And he cooed at the sight of you, hips thrusting up to meet your own desperate bouncing of your hips down onto his lap to drive both of you towards the edge you were teetering very close to, “Y’mine, yeah? Daddy’s girl ain’t ya?” He whispered cruelly, chuckling as you collapsed against his chest. And Liam, so perfectly in tune to your emotions by now, just wrapped his arms around your shoulders, planting his feet on the bed to fuck up into you, arm locking around your neck from the back to keep you pinned against him as his hips snapped up to meet yours, “Yeah, just needed dick didnt you, sweetheart?” And he chuckles when you croon into his neck, soft pants billowing air against his skin now slick with sweat and perfectly warm as it lulled you closer to the edge, “Sit up baby” He whispered.

And you did. You've been with him so long now that you would do literally anything he asked the second he asked for it. He followed you, not slowing his thrusts down for a second as he sat himself against the headboard, one hand gripping your hip to keep you hiked up to he could fuck his throbbing dick into you, the other tugging your mouth open wide, “Y’gonna swallow f’me, angel?” And all you could do by then was nod, moans sounding from the back of your throat as you watched him smile. And then he spit in your mouth.

And that was it for you, you snapped your jaw shut with a breathy whimper, walls sloping down around him as your orgasm washed over you in rocking waves, he fucked you through it, whispering sweet nothings in your ear about how much of a good girl you were for him. “Love, I love you, Liam” he sounded just as ruined as you now as, with a groan, his own orgasm crashed down on him, his eyes screwing shut as he moaned against your mouth as he caught your lips in a kiss, mumbling drowsily against you as he fucked the two of you through your orgasms, “Love you angel, y’my bird yeah? Get get ri-rid of me, y’re it”

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment of calming yourselves down, him still buried deep inside of you as he pulled back, smiling up at you as his hand came up to brush your hair away from your face, gripping the back of your head as he whispers, “Happy Valentine’s day, sweetheart”

— · ✦ · —

You were currently driving the two of you down into central London to go and visit a cafe from the early days of your relationship. Liam had suggested it, upon feeling very sappy when the two of you were showering together this morning. He’d deny everything, of course, yet here you were. You were driving, since in the entire 9 years you'd known him he'd still never bothered himself with getting a license. Typical. So now you were his casual chauffeur.

You noticed, after a moment, that the car tailing you had been there for essentially the entire journey. A black car with tinted windows still hot on your tail. You blinked up at them in the rearview, shooting a glance towards Liam as you followed the satnav, “This one of your friends?” Liam checked the mirror too, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked, “They’ve been there since Finchley”

“You know them?” Your brow creased. “Nah” He muttered, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew exactly what might've been inside. Even you managed to figure it out when you pulled up to the curb and they double parked right across the street from you. The flashes the second you stepped out of the car confirmed your suspicions. Somehow, they’d summoned an absolute army of paparazzi staring at you from across the street, shouting nonsense as they snapped their large cameras at you.

“C’mon, Liam”

“Liam”

“This way!”

“Can we get one of you together?”

You let out a laboured sigh as you rounded the car to where he was waiting with a shit eating grin on his face, fiddling with your engagement, wedding ring, and the claddagh ring he’d given you for your birthday three years ago stacked on top of each other, fidgeting as you made your way to his side, “There goes breakfast” You mumbled as his arm made its home over your shoulder, steering you to walk with him, “Nah”

“What?”

“I’ve got an idea”

There was a game the two of you liked to play with the paparazzi, finding your own way to deal with them as they trailed you essentially everywhere you went. The game was simple, make something up which would get into the headlines. You decided to play around with them after the amount of turmoil he was put through in the papers in the first year of you knowing one another, trying to come up with the most baffling headline.

And it was his turn first.

It took him a while to come up with it, you’d been walking hand in hand for about ten minutes, completely ignoring the clamours from across the street as you swung your arms, the cold february sun starting to shine through the clouds was nice. It would've been peaceful. If you could've tuned them out.

Then suddenly, Liam stopped walking. He turned to you with an expression on his face like he’d just gobbed an entire sour lemon, and started waving his arms dramatically. You felt your face burn immediately, letting out a quiet, “Oh God” as he started up, “What d’you mean I can't buy another parka?” He fumed out loud, loud enough so it could be heard across the street, and you could hear the paparazzi excitement flare up with the rapid flash of the cameras. And you caught on immediately, resting your hands on your hips as you snapped right back, your frame from the back hiding the smile on your face, “Oh, because twenty seven isn't enough?”

Liam stifled a laugh, pushing his shades further up onto his face as he let out a groan so loud it bounced off the buildings around the two of them, “I wear them all though”

You followed him in fake annoyance, legs hitting the grown harder as you feigned a strop, “You wear three”

“I rotate”

“You do not”

The paps are firing away at this point, people walking past keep slowing down to witness what they're pretty sure is Liam Gallagher having a very public domestic with his wife. You stifle a smile, and point dramatically down the street like you're in some Shakespearean drama, "I'm leaving!”

Liam gasps as you start walking away from him, staying rooted to the spot as he watches you storm away, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yells, “TAKE THE KETTLES”

“I DON'T WANT THE KETTLES”

“YOU BOUGHT THE BASTARD KETTLES”

— · ✦ · —

Ten minutes later, the two of you were walking side by side like nothing had even happened. But the paparazzi still weren't letting up, apparently they still hadn't gotten enough material for the next gossip columns in their respective newspapers. You were outside your cafe that you were planning to go to now, but the way you looked at each other clearly meant that you weren't going to make it inside any time soon.

You squinted up at him in the sunlight, a cheeky grin on your face quickly schooled into an innocent expression as you declared brightly, “My turn!”

Before Liam could even react you were already moving, dropping down onto one knee right there on the pavement, digging in your back for a packet of gum. It was half eaten, half of it was actually in Liam’s gob right now after he’d nicked it in the car, “What’s yours is mine love, says so in that, y’know, marriage contract you signed that one time”, and you held it up like a ring.

The paps absolutely lost their minds. Flash flash flash FLASH FLASH. Each tim it seemed to grow brighter, and you just giggled up at Liam who looked like if his jaw dropped even more it would make its way to the ground. But he was biting his lip to stop laughing, kicking your shoe with his as he nodded, “Y’alright there?”

You cleared your throat, “Liam Gallagher” You began, staring up at him as seriously as you could possibly muster, offering him the packet of chewing gum. “Go on” He mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he sucked his cheeks in to keep himself from laughing.

“Will you accept this extra strong mint”

And he placed one hand over his heart, and dramatically exclaimed, “I thought you’d never ask”

— · ✦ · —

You never actually made it to the cafe that day. Instead the two of you bailed into the safety of a random kebab shop which you were sure the two of you frequented whilst drinking, and got a doner kebab each where you ate it on the bench in Hyde park where he’d proposed to you. Yet, like all the weird February 14ths you'd spent together, it ended up being the most perfect day that year.

The morning after you walked into the kitchen to see Liam sat at the table nursing a cup of coffee, reading the paper. Odd. But he was trying not to laugh, and that was definitely a good sign. Your plan had worked. You sat yourself in your usual chair right next to him, grinning as you leant your head against his arm, “What is it?” He didn't say anything, just tilted the paper so you could read it more easily, resting his cheek against your head.

A massive, black, bold headline stretched against the thin white paper as you leant in to read it.

EXPLOSIVE VALENTINE’S ROW

Below it there was a very tasteful selection of photos. A photograph of the two of you laughing during your fake argument, the next, the one of you ‘proposing’, the silver packet of gum glinting in the February sunshine as you held it up to him, and finally, another one, Liam stealing a chip from your little white carton when you eventually emerged from the kebab shop, and your arm raised high in the air like it was about to smack right down on your husbands back. That word still made you smile to this day. Husband. Yours. It took you a while to really shape him up into the man he was today, the man who was completely capable of being a husband. And you couldn't be happier.

You started laughing as you stared down at it, shaking your head as you pushed away from the table, “They’ve completely missed the point”

And without skipping a beat, he shook his head, folding the paper as he leant in to take a sip of his cup of tea, “...Worth it though”

Hours later you were still laughing about it. You were sitting on the closed toilet lid while Liam took his shower, peeking out every now and again when you let out a laugh as you scrolled through social media. Most of the fans had figured it out already. One comment simply said, “They’re definitely taking the piss”

You knocked on the clouded glass of the shower, Liam popped his head out dutifully as you turned the phone around for him to read it. And he just grinned proudly, “Smart bunch”. But then he looked down at you, sat there in your pajamas, and he tilted his head, sending a puff of air out of his mouth to force his dripping hair out of his eyes, then letting his big blue irises dart up and down your frame, “Y’know, love” He said, very serious, “You look a little too dry”

And you didn't even have time to properly react as he grabbed your hand, cackling as he dragged you clothes and all with him under the warm spray. Some 50 year old.

— · ✦ · —

★2024

Literally nothing could’ve prepared you for what happened today. Nothing. Quite literally the weirdest day of your entire life.

You and Liam had decided that you needed a holiday, or rather, he just wasn't touring this year, and so there were no exotic places for him to take you to. And so you landed in Fiji. It was nice enough, quiet enough for him who was getting on in his years, as you liked to tease him about when you began to see more salt in his hair than pepper, “Oi, you love my goldilocks you cheeky bird” And you’d just hissed an awkward sigh, shrugging your shoulder as you tried to figure out how you were going to fit yet another parka into his suitcase, “Well I wouldn’t say golden…”

But here you were, 6 in the morning, 3 suitcases already checked in, a mimosa in your hand and a cold beer in his as you made your way to the flight lounge. Perks of marrying a rockstar, now you are one of the elite. It's not what you married him for, but it was certainly convenient when you had to wait for a flight that had been delayed by an entire 3 hours, now you were just waiting out the final 30 minutes. 

You lay with your carry-on shoved beneath your head, drained mimosa collecting condensation on the little glass table in front of you, watching as a droplet dripped down the side of the glass. Peak entertainment.

Liam was pretending to scroll on twitter while he watched everyone walking in and out of the lounge, half watching his phone, half staring at the door. It’s not like he expected anyone to walk in.

That was until he went completely still next to you. Everything changed in that moment. You followed his gaze across the room, across the lounge.

Noel.

Standing there with a coffee.

You sat up, you actually didn't even know what to say - usually you couldn't stop the words from coming out of your mouth but for some reason you were completely stumped, mouth hanging half open as you looked between the two. Liam didn't take his eyes off Noel. Noel didn't take his eyes off Liam. Holy shit.

You looked towards Liam, mouth suddenly dry as you took in his expression. He looked oddly like a little boy right now, like the man you never knew him as, and it made your heart squeeze as your hand made its way to his lower back, “You okay?”

Liam didn't answer, he didn't even look at you. Instead, he stood up, and immediately walked over. The only funny thing you could find within the whole scenario, was that Noel looked like he was going to shit himself.

Your stomach was tight with worry as you stared incessantly at them. Anais was with Noel, standing there smiling up at her uncle who she'd managed to keep a steady, yet distant relationship with over the years. Liam said something, and both Noel and Anais shot a glance your way. You lifted your hand in an awkward little wave. Noel’s jaw ticked as he turned back to Liam. Anais returned your wave.

The conversation lasted less than ten minutes. There was no shouting. No swearing. No dramatic embrace. They were just … talking. It felt a lot simpler than the threats Liam had muttered towards him in your bed whenever you spoke about it. Noel nodded once, Liam nodded back. And then they went their separate ways, like nothing had ever happened. Like if anybody outside of this airport lounge had caught wind of it it would have exploded in the biggest story of 21st century England.

You waited until Liam sat down, ready to ambush him with the millions of questions lined up in your mind. But upon seeing his face you held your tongue, he looked strangely .. peaceful? You just nudged him with your elbow, shifting his carry on so you could sit right next to him as you grabbed his arm, “Everything alright?” Cautious. Careful. You didn't know how easily Liam could slip right back into his old headspace. And he just shrugged, “Yeah”. Perfect. Liam was never a man of many words, which sometimes worked to your advantage, other times was just downright annoying, and you were buzzing to know what just went down, the man you’d been hearing about from an insider perspective for the last ten years was just in front of you, talking to the man who he hadn't in 14 years, you were bound to have some questions! “What did he say?”

“Nothin’”

“You’re a liar”

He smiled. It was a tiny little thing but you caught it. “We just talked”

You decided to let it be from there, staring at his blissful expression for a moment before you simply reached over and squeezed his hand once. He squeezed it back. 

— · ✦ · —

★Summer 2024

Something was definitely happening, you could literally feel it in the air. You'd been married to Liam for too long to not know when he was sneaking about doing something. And doing something he was.

It started with the phone calls. His phone literally never stopped ringing. And you knew Liam was never that popular. Management. Lawyers. Old numbers that even you didn't recognise. New, unknown numbers, some even came with the declaration of NO CALLER ID. Liam took every single one. He disappeared into another room for hours every afternoon. The door closed every single time. You couldn't even hear what he was saying when you pressed your ear to the door - the bastard was sneaky, he knew his wife well.

You began to grow suspicious. You literally had no idea what was going on. Your conclusion eventually became one simple thing: He was cheating on you. You love him, but you know damn well he has a track record. You decided to test the waters when you finally walked in on his mid phone call when you came back from the shops.

The second you walked into the kitchen, carrying bags filled with what was probably a month's worth of shopping but you knew between Liam, Gene and Lennon it would all be gone in about three days, Liam immediately turned his phone face down. You felt sick. You rested the bags against the wall just next to the door, crossing your arms as you challenged him, “...Who was that”

He looked up at you with an expression so pure it could probably rival that of an angels, but you weren't convinced when he let out a tense little, “No one”

“Liam”

“No one important”

Your eyes narrowed, darting up and down his frame that he held so tensely you were scared he might snap, “Important enough to lie about, clearly”

“...Maybe”

You blinked. The nausea in your gut rose. Had you really spent all that time healing him, living with him, helping him achieve his own goals, just for it all to end in you being cheated on? You felt exhausted, leaning back against the wall, “What’re you hiding, Liam”

“I said its nothin’”

“Youve said nothing fourteen times this week”

“Have I?” And you felt even more confused as he smiled all knowing to himself, checking his phone as it started buzzing on the table, and immediately walked into the living room to pick it up. What the fuck.

But one thing about Liam that you were confident you knew, was that he was absolutely terrible at keeping secrets. One evening he was making dinner, the whole week he’d been humming Oasis songs without realising, yet he stopped whenever you began to notice, or ask whatever he was singing. He stood at the stove, stirring something red in a pan as he absent mindedly sang, “Slide Away” under his breath.

You slowly looked up from where you were going through your bills on the table, furrowing your brows as you stared at him.

It was like he felt your eyes on his back. He froze, slowly turning around as he muttered a quiet, “Shit” busying himself with cleaning up the side. But you were already smiling slightly, pushing away from the table as you made your way over to him “You were just singing Oais”

He didn't look at you as he stared down at the countertop, currently trying to scrub out an imagined stain on the worktop, “Have I not?” His voice was uncharacteristically high pitched as he shot you a wary side eye, “You haven't sung an oasis song in years”

“Have I not?”

“No” 

He finally met your eyes, staring down at you as you stared right back at him, crossing your arms like you were waiting for him to finally fess up, raising your eyebrows when he opened his mouth to talk, “Fancy a biscuit”

You narrowed your eyes, “You’re hiding something”

— · ✦ · —

The rain had been falling since not long after dinner, pattering softly against the bedroom window while the rest of the house settled into silence. You were curled up against the headboard with a book, absently turning another page every few minutes, while Liam lay beside you with one of his own. That was probably the weirdest thing, Liam reading.

Or, at least, he was supposed to be reading it. You'd been watching him out of the corner of your eye for the last ten minutes. He hadn't turned a page once. Every now and then he'd stare down at the book as if he meant to read it, only to drift off again, tapping his thumb against the spine before sighing to himself.

Eventually you lowered your own book just enough to look at him, "You alright?"

"Hm?"

"You've been on that page since I started my last chapter." He frowned at the book in his lap before looking back at you. "Have I?" You laughed quietly. "You definitely have." He let out a breath through his nose, shut the book, opened it again almost immediately, stared at the page for another couple of seconds before closing it once more. "...Can't do it."

You smiled. "Do what?"

"Keep my mouth shut." That made you close your own book completely, "About what?"

He scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you, "I think..." He hesitated, as though saying it out loud might somehow make it disappear again. "...I think we're doin' it."

"Doing what?" He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before muttering, almost casually, "...Oasis." You blinked. "What?"

"Oasis." He finally looked across at you, "Looks like we're gettin' back together." For a second you just stared at him, "...You're joking." He shook his head, "No."

"...You're actually serious?"

"Yeah."

You searched his face for any sign that he was winding you up, but there wasn't one. If anything, he looked relieved, like he'd been desperate to tell you for weeks, "Oh my God." A grin spread across your face before you could stop it, "Oh my God, Liam."

Before he had a chance to say another word, you threw your book somewhere across the bed and launched yourself at him, wrapping both arms around his neck so suddenly that he almost disappeared backwards into the pillows, "Careful!" he laughed, grabbing hold of you before the pair of you toppled off the side of the bed.

"Are you serious?" You pulled yourself back so your hands could plant themselves against his shoulders, smiling with so much excitement it almost made him audibly coo at how happy he looked, "I've literally just told you I am."

"LIAM!" You hugged him even tighter.

"I can't breathe," he managed between laughs, trying without much success to loosen your grip around his neck.

"I don't care," you replied, laughing just as hard. You'd waited years to hear those words, and now that he'd finally said them, there was absolutely no chance you were letting him go. He shook his head, still grinning, "I think y'should."

You eased back just enough to look at him properly, searching his face one last time for any sign that he was winding you up. There wasn't one. If anything, he looked relieved. "I genuinely can't believe you didn't tell me," you said, still smiling so much your cheeks ached. "You've been awful at keeping this secret." He gave an indignant little laugh. "I've been brilliant."

"Brilliant?" You raised an eyebrow. "You started humming Oasis songs while you were making tea, disappeared into the garden every time your phone rang, and every time someone mentioned Noel you looked like you were trying not to smile." He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Right... I'd forgotten about all that."

"Exactly." You laughed, shaking your head. "I honestly thought you were cheating on me, you were acting so shady about the whole thing!" You smacked his chest, he rubbed it better with a pained little chuckle

"Nah," he said with a shrug, "this is better."

"Much better."

His smile softened as he reached across and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "There is one thing, though." The teasing disappeared from his voice just enough for you to know he meant it. "You can't tell anybody."

"I won't." He looked at you for a long moment, clearly deciding whether or not he trusted that answer. "I'm serious."

"So am I." The silence that followed lasted no more than a few seconds before your eyes drifted innocently towards the phone charging on the bedside table. "I'm just going to ring my mum..." His head snapped round. "You are bloody not." You dissolved into laughter before you'd even moved. "I'm joking!"

"You little shit," he muttered, unable to stop himself smiling as he picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at you. It bounced harmlessly off your shoulder, making you laugh even harder, "Worth it," you said, still giggling.

"Not funny.", "It's a bit funny."

He rolled his eyes, gave in, and laughed with you. Outside, the rain carried on falling exactly as it had all evening, while inside the biggest secret he'd kept in weeks no longer felt like a burden. It was finally out, and somehow that made it all seem real.

— · ✦ · —

★February 2025

The reunion rolled around so quickly you didn't even have time to process it properly. Time disappeared literally under your feet and for a few weeks it was 1995 again. Except now everybody was old enough to laugh about it.

The rehearsal room felt absolutely surreal. Old road crew, old guitars, old jokes flying about. It was absolutely electric. You could hardly move for sound equipment, microphones and guitars dotted around the whole place, a filming crew for an upcoming documentary. This was, not that you'd tell him, a million times more exciting than Liam’s solo tour prep.

Bonehead walked into the first rehearsal carrying a paper cup of coffee, made a beeline towards you, where you were currently sitting on a crate like you didn't quite know what to do with yourself. He sat next to you, took one look around. And saw Liam and Noel already arguing. Without missing a beat, he laughed, shaking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “...Here we go again”

You smiled softly, turning to face him as you accepted the extra cup of coffee he'd brought along for you, “What?” You said with a soft laugh, the only thing you could hear right now was Liam’s voice booming around the massive studio, complaining about how Noel was so short that maybe they'd have to get a custom microphone so people could hear him on stage.

“I’ve definitely seen this before” But it all felt lighter. Sure, you weren't there when Oasis was a thing, but something about this to you felt completely right. It felt like all the work you'd put in for this relationship had led up to this moment.

The brothers continued arguing over absolutely nothing. Every day sounded a little something like this”

“No, the tempo’s wrong”

“It isn't"

"It is."

"It wasn't twenty years ago."

"Exactly."

"You're impossible."

"So are you."

And yet five minutes later they were sitting over two beers like old women, reminiscing about an old tour story where Liam had gotten so drunk he…

You tuned them out at that point, sitting on your phone as they began arguing again. Then laughing again. They definitely just had a bad rep from the press from 2009 because clearly, this was how they showed their love for one another

— · ✦ · —

The closer the shows got, the quieter Liam had become. He found himself more exhausted than he had in ten years, coming home late at night just to immediately collapse asleep in your arms, no word on how his day had gone, if the rehearsals were going good, nope. Nothing. Just came home to your sweet refuge and immediately slept.

You could tell he was excited, saw the way his eyes lit up whenever he was talking about it, saw how happy he was when Noel and the sons Liam had never gotten a chance to meet came over for Easter when you cooked them a roast, and quickly excused yourself to go and phone a friend so Liam could have his time alone with his family. You heard it especially in the way he began belting out Oasis hits in the shower in the mornings when you were still trying to catch up on the sleep he made you lose the night before.

He was so excited. But underneath it all, he was terrified. And you could feel it.

One night after he came home a little more animated than the others, he’d spent his time making you fall apart beneath his hands, and then you both lay there in your clean sheets, completely naked, skin to skin. His hands were dancing up your spine, drawing lazy patterns as you began slowly dozing off against his bare chest. That was until it rumbled to life beneath you. He admitted quietly, “What if they hate it?”

You cracked one lazy eye open, brows furrowing as you registered his words, “Who?” You whispered, voice hoarse - his fault - “Everyone” he mumbled, slightly insecure of himself. It was a look that didn't suit him, you let your eye flutter shut again as you nuzzled into his bare chest, “They won’t, baby - they waited years”

“Theyve spent years singing the songs you're about to play for them”

He sighed softly, but it felt like, from your reassurance alone, he began relaxing against the sheets, wrapping his arms around you to properly pull you onto his chest just so he could feel the calming weight of you pressed entirely against him, “Still” He muttered into your hair, big hands stroking your back underneath the sheets so gently it could've made you cry. You smiled against his soft chest hair, lifting your head to rest your chin just on his sternum, “You’ve walked onto blogger stages” You reminded him He smiles softly back down at you, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to your forehead, sighing contentedly as you burrowed back against him, shivering when your cold hands pressed against his back, "Doesn't feel like it”

Yet despite himself, he slept like an absolute baby that night. Not plagued with the fever nightmares about the entire world hating the reunion, letting himself, like always, be calmed just y your voice, your breathing, and the weight of you against him as he began to be gently lulled into sleep

— · ✦ · —

★Summer 2025

Backstage felt like organised chaos.

People were everywhere. Crew members hurried through the corridors with headsets pressed against one ear, someone called for a guitar technician from somewhere down the hall, and every few seconds another familiar face appeared in the dressing room doorway to wish Liam luck before disappearing again. Through it all came the distant thud of music from the stadium, followed every now and then by a roar from the crowd that seemed to vibrate through the walls. The room itself was louder than it had been all day. Old friends were talking over each other, cups of tea sat forgotten on every available surface, and someone had started reminiscing about a tour from thirty years earlier that had somehow turned into an argument about whose memory was actually right.

Liam drifted between conversations without really joining any of them. Every now and then someone clapped him on the shoulder or wished him luck, and he'd grin, throw back a joke, ask if everyone was ready, but you knew him well enough to see the cracks. He kept checking the clock on the wall without realising he was doing it, and every time the crowd erupted outside his head turned instinctively towards the corridor. Gene was the first to pull him into a hug. "Go smash it," he said simply, giving his dad's shoulder a firm squeeze. Liam smiled, patting him twice on the back. "Of course I will." Lennon wasn't quite as sympathetic, "Just try not to forget the words." Liam looked at him as though he'd just said something ridiculous. "I know the words.", Lennon folded his arms, completely unconvinced. "You forgot them in Dublin."

"I did not."

"You definitely did."

"I missed one line."

"You sang the second verse twice."

"It worked, didn't it?" Lennon laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep." Across the room, Molly shook her head fondly before walking over. She leaned up to kiss his cheek, smoothing an imaginary crease from the shoulder of his parka as she did, "You'll be brilliant."

"Cheers, love."

For a while longer the room stayed full. Conversations overlapped, someone found an old photograph on their phone that everybody crowded round to see, and another burst of laughter echoed off the dressing room walls. Then, almost without anyone noticing, people began filtering out. A stage manager appeared at the door with a quiet reminder that it was nearly time. One by one the room emptied. Someone called and they'd see him out there. Another squeezed his shoulder on the way past. The door clicked shut behind the last person. The silence that followed felt strangely loud. For the first time all day, it was just the two of you.

Liam let out a slow breath, staring down at the floor for a moment before adjusting the sleeves of his parka for what had to be the fifth time in ten minutes. You watched him fiddle with the zip, flatten the front, tug lightly at the cuffs, then smooth a hand over his hair despite the fact there wasn't a single strand out of place. You smiled to yourself and stepped closer, "Stand still."

He looked up. "What?"

"You've been messing with that jacket all afternoon."

"I have not."

"You have."

He rolled his eyes but stopped fidgeting long enough for you to straighten the front of the parka yourself. You smoothed the collar down with your hands, brushing away a piece of fluff that wasn't really there, "There." He glanced down.

"Better?"

"Much."

As you reached for his hands, you realised they were colder than you'd expected. He'd hidden it well all day, but there it was. The slightest tremor, not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for you. You wrapped both of your hands around his and rubbed your thumbs gently across his knuckles, "Nervous?"

He gave a tiny shrug, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, "...Bit."

You smiled, "I don't think anyone would blame you." He looked towards the closed dressing-room door, where the roar of the crowd drifted faintly through the walls again, "Funny, innit?"

"What is?"

"I've done this thousands of times."

"And?"

"This one feels different."

You gave his hands one last squeeze, "You're going to be alright." He looked back at you and nodded, though it took him a second before he trusted himself to speak, "...Yeah."

Another cheer rolled through the stadium, louder this time. Someone knocked softly on the door. "Two minutes." Liam nodded without taking his eyes off you. Then, almost absent-mindedly, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, "...Love you angel, wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you"

"Love you too- "

He cut you off with a stare, squeezing your hands even tighter as he looked into your eyes with the biggest amount of vulnerability you’d seen from him in years. “I mean it” He began softly, and you knew he just needed you to be quiet while he worked through this himself, “I’ve never properly thanked you for all of it, have I?” you shot him a sad smile, opening your mouth to say something, but before you could he was already pulling you against him, resting his chin on your shoulder. You reciprocated almost immediately, holding him right back as you pressed your head into his shoulder, “My girl, got me outta my slump, my life was fucking miserable before you” His voice cracked gently, you didnt say anything. He continued, “I thought i was done for, first Valentine’s spent alone, band gone to shit, mid-divorce” He laughed quietly at how silly it all sounded now that he had everythin he’d wanted for the past twenty years, “And into the bar walks you, in your silly little skirt and your- your fucking pink cocktail” His voice was strained now, squeezing you tighter with his hands on your ribs, resting his forehead dow on your shoulder, “And you asked me why I wasnt celebrating Valentines day” It shocked you how good his memory was, but you let out your own watery little laugh as he coughed out something which sounded half chuckle half sob, pulling you even impossibly closer to him, “And I am so fuckin’ greatful for you - my bird, you're my reason. You're why all this is possible”

A stagehand popped his head around the corner, “We need you now, Liam” He said quietly. And then it was just the two of you again. He pulled back, holding your hands one more time

He smiled, small and genuine, before letting go of your hands and turning towards the door. You watched him disappear into the corridor, where the light from the tunnel spilled across the floor ahead of him. As he walked towards it, the noise outside grew louder and louder until it became a deafening wall of sound, swallowing every other noise around it. Noel joined him by his side, Liam barged into him playfully with his shoulder

For just a second, before he stepped out into the light, he glanced back over his shoulder.

Then he grinned. He took Noel’s hand in his own, raised it over their heads.

And he was gone.

— · ✦ · —

★February 14th, 2026

The tour had been a success. That wasnt enough for it actually, it had been ‘Fucking mega”, in Liam’s own sophisticated language. It took you all over the world, you were there every single night backstage, rooting him on. You made friends that would last for life, saw places that you never imagined you would. But that wasn't even the best part of it all.

The best part of it was now. Not the concerts, not the afterparties. But back at home. Shoes kicked off by the door, parka strewn across the floor. Chinese takeaway boxes littering your cosy living room. The house was quiet in a way you hadn't managed to feel in months. And here you were, 12 years after finding him in that bar alone, here you were surrounded by a life that wasn't his and yours, but the two of you together, four walls that you called a home but really it was the person inside who made it that way. He wasn't sad anymore, every headline spoke rumours about possibly playing another concert next year, but he paid no mind to them anymore. The headlines didn't speak to him now, all that mattered was you here, in his arms, curled up with him on the couch as you watched yet another sappy movie.

You curled into him on the couch, he was staring into space. Finally, he spoke, a sharp laugh huffing from his nose as he muttered, “Funny, innit” 

You turned your head to look up at him, soft smile on your face, "What is?”

“Spent years thinkin’ Oasis gettin’ back together was the thing I’d been missin’”

He looked around the room then, just once, taking inventory. Wedding photos. Pictures with Gene and Lennon, Molly’s graduation photo, the framed photo of your, yes, your grandchild - Molly had asked if you could have the honor of being Rudy’s step grandmother. You cried the whole way home to Lia,, he couldn't even calm you down when you got home, just help you in your bed for hours on end as you sobbed out all the love that had built in you over the years. His solo awards on the shelf above the telly. And finally, you. Everything you’ve built.

He smiled softly

“Turns out” He pressed the softest kiss to your temple, tugging you back down to curl into his side once more, “I already had it all long before that”

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GOING TO THE doctors and having them confirm the pregnancy was one less weight off of your shoulders. You no longer had to worry about whether or not you were actually pregnant, you no longer had to worry about whether or not the tests were faulty, and you no longer had to worry about being unhealthy. The doctor had cleared everything over, telling you you were in good shape and everything was progressing as it should. The first few months were easy, besides the morning sickness and constant mood swings.

But that was then, and now you were in your second trimester.

You now looked pregnant, and most definitely felt it. You swore you'd never had such an appetite before. You were waking up in the middle of the night, sweating from being so warm, and begging Alfie to go and buy you whatever you were craving.

And he did. Now without complaint. At first he was hesitant, asking you if you genuinely needed a microwaveable mac n cheese at two in the morning, but then he saw the tears blossoming in your eyes and he got up, kissed your forehead and then returned within thirty minutes with your requested meal in his hands.

Some days were really good, where the only downside was the back pain, and you would even feel the baby kick when it wanted. The first time that happened, you were on the toilet and you screamed. Alfie came rushing into the bathroom, pure panic written on his face. When you told him you felt the baby kick with watering eyes, he let out the deepest sigh of relief known to man and dropped to his knees before you, putting his hand where you gestured to.

the bad days ༊*·˚

However, with good days, came bad days, and they really seemed to be getting the best of you. Sometimes, you'd just lie in bed for hours on end, only getting up to go to the toilet.

Other times, you'd break down in his arms first thing in the morning, stressing over every little possibility that could happen.

"What if this was a mistake?" You croaked into the darkness of your shared bedroom one night.

You were on one side of the bed, Alfie on the other, giving you the space you needed and wanted. You heard the bedsheets shuffling as he rolled over, barely making out your features through the thin slip of moonlight peaking through the curtains.

"Do you regret keeping it?" He asked.

"... I don't know." You sniffled, feeling like a horrible person for even contemplating the possibility of if you hadn't agreed to keep it.

"C'mere." He sighed, opening his arms.

You shuffled into them, burying your face into his chest and letting your tears roll down your screwed up face and soak into his skin.

He held you every time without hesitation, cradling you to his chest and not saying anything. Just letting you get it out of your system. He knew these weren't mood swings anymore.

Those passed along with the first trimester. These were your genuine emotions shining through and breaking you down.

You would cover your head and face with your arms, as if you were trying to block out the rest of the world and hide within yourself, but he pulled you out each time.

"I don't wanna die!" You'd wail loudly, and he'd double his strength around you while being wary of the baby.

"You won't, angel. You'll be okay. I promise you. It'll all be okay." Alfie would reassure you.

Every. Single. Time.

"I feel ugly."

"You're beautiful."

"I've put on so much weight."

"You're bringing life into this world. I don't care. You're carrying our baby. Your body is doing mental things right now."

"What if something bad happens?"

"Then we'll deal with it, if it happens."

"Please don't leave me."

"Reader, I will never, ever leave you. Not right now, not when our baby's born, not when our baby's a snotty little toddler that cries every night because they can't have cuddles. I will be here every step of the way."

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Alfie had put off a lot of things for you. But he didn't blame you for them, not one bit. He'd been invited to two brand trips with YoungLA, and had turned them both down. He was fully willing to go, but when he saw your crushed expression when he'd told you, he knew he couldn't leave you at home on your own.

He'd also had a lot of phone calls with his mum, mainly asking what the fuck he's supposed to do in certain situations and how to deal with this, that and the other. On the days when your back was killing and you couldn't be bothered to cook, you two would go and have dinner with his mum.

She was incredibly supportive, always greeting you with a great big smile and a hug. She knew what it was like, after all.

"You ever need a day away from him, you let me know." She would say at dinner, patting your knee.

Alfie didn't vlog much during your pregnancy, too afraid that he would start on a good day which would traipse into a bad day. He didn't want to subject you to any unwanted media attention while you were so vulnerable, so if he did vlog, it was only the parts where he was out on his own (not very much) or where you were actually playing an active roll in the clip and not being some sort of ghost figure in the background, walking around the grotto in one of his shirts.

The good days were the best days. You would prance around the kitchen, blasting music on the Alexa, looking simultaneously cute and sexy in just his shirt and some plain knickers. He would have some tv show that you were rewatching on in the background while you baked whatever you felt like doing.

the gender reveal ༊*·˚

You even baked your own gender reveal cupcakes, but had his mum fill them with the colour icing corresponding to the gender of the baby. The gender reveal was quiet and small, including a handful of your friends from college, a handful of his friends from sixth form, and family members you felt particularly comforted by and close to.

You'd always wanted a big, extravagant gender reveal party, but considering the emotional state you'd been in so far, you didn't want to risk embarrassing yourself in front of a group of people.

Thankfully the day went smoothly, and you burst into tears at the sight of pink sprinkles on the middle of the vanilla cupcake.

He hugged you tightly, lifting you into his arms as you latched your legs around his waist.

night time ༊*·˚

Going to bed had become increasingly more difficult. You would weak up in hot sweats in the middle of the night, your body overheating and overworking to maintain the healthiness of your baby.

Alfie would try to cuddle you in an attempt to provide comfort and a sense of homeliness, but you would always end up pushing him off, hating the feeling of being touched in your warm state. But sometimes all you needed was his embrace.

There were times when you would lay on his chest, letting him doodle with his finger along the expanse of your back, having you guess whatever he was drawing. Other times you would lie on your back, trying to relieve your spine of any pressure, and he would rest a hand on your bump, gently caressing it.

He kept the windows open, bought a fan and even changed the bedsheets into thinner ones for you.

If you needed anything in the middle of the night, he wouldn't hesitate to grab it for you. Whether it was food, a drink or if the fan needed the settings increased. He did it all.

preparing for the baby ༊*·˚

He'd bought all the furniture needed. A crib, a changing station, a new wardrobe and chest of draws, and even a plush rocking chair for you to sit in in the case of late-night feeds. He turned that day into a vlog as you'd walked into the living room with a pep in your step and declared that nothing would ruin your mood.

You'd sat with him whilst he built it all, complaining to the camera about how complicated this all was for no reason. You laughed at him, handing him certain nuts and bolts when he asked for them or the parts of the furniture.

The clothes were all down to you. He took you out, card at the ready while you went through the aisles of the store, getting borderline emotional at the thought of your baby girl in all these dainty little clothes.

"Get her a nike tech. Have her rocking up to the function like one of the mandem." Alfie suggested jokingly, camera on you

as your eyes scanned the articles.

You glared at him over your shoulder, "No, Alfie. She's gonna be a dainty little princess, not 'one of the mandem'."'

"Ey, you never know, girl. She might grow up and think 'fuck the pink, I wanna rock black and grey’!"

"Then she can do that when she's old enough, but for now—“

Oh my God, look at these little shoes!" You exclaimed, picking them up.

Alfie gave a deadpanned look to the camera before switching it back to you, filming your awed expression as you held the shoes up, showing the viewers.

The toys you started buying after the baby shower, not wanting to buy doubles of anything. You refused to buy anything that she might accidentally swallow or consume. He once held up a dainty kitchen set with miniature wooden food.

You snatched it off of him and put it back.

"It's literally got a choking hazard sticker on it." You shook your head, tutting.

"I'll show you a choking hazard in a minute, girl." Alfie smirked, grabbing your waist.

You slapped his stomach lightly, "Don't be dirty in public."

He moved his streaming set up to the dining room so the office could be the nursery. He let you decorate the room however you wanted, standing around in case you needed help. You adjusted everything so it was perfect, laying a heart shaped rug in the middle of the room and tucked the drawer and changing table under the slanted roof. The crib went where Alfie's desk was previously, slotting in perfectly.

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