user missbeatlegrl words cannot convey how much your writing means to me. oh my god. every single time i read a noel fic of yours i’m absolutely floored by it. the emotions i feel towards your fics genuinely feel like i’m dying in the best way possible like i need you to understand how much of an impact they’ve had on me. they are otherworldly. they’re so so so good. i love how you romanticise cute little domestic moments because i too romanticise them. the way you write noel is like you’re seeing into my brain because it’s perfect it’s exactly how i’d picture him. you sometimes mention how you’re not really feeling a piece of work but your writing never ceases to blow me away every time. please don’t ever doubt yourself because wow. you are an absolute treasure. i cant wait to read anything else you have planned next 🫶🫶
i read this clutching my heart like a woman waiting for her husband to return from war... ARE U KIDDDINGGG MEE. you think fandom culture is dead and then someone says the kindness sweetest things ever and suddenly everything is sunshine and rainbows!!!! i love you 😭😭 rereading stuff a millon times over until im like girl get to the point!!!!! is worth it 4 ppl like you 💔💔❤️🩹 thank u thank u thank u ❤️🩹❤️🩹 # noel girls 4 EVERRRRR
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cw: jealous and pregnant!reader; married life; fluff; mutual masturbation; dirty talk; praise kink.
𑣲 word count: 2,5k. ˊˎ-
wn: at lasstttt!!! this has been in my drafts for soooo long!! another the rivalry blurb! please do not read this without reading the series first! no taglist because i’ve been told tumblr is taking down accounts since it looks like spam :( sorry
all the mess you endured from 2001 to 2004 feels like a lifetime ago, because it’s 2005 now. and you’re the only person in the world that can say that rockstar oasis legend noel gallagher is trying – yes, trying – to make you american pancakes in a chilly sunday morning.
and he’s the only man that gets to brag about knocking up america’s hottest front woman. and yes, he is smug about it – even though at home you’ve got him completely around you and the little one’s finger.
right now, you’re barefoot and very pregnant. leaning against the counter, glowing and hormonal – which means permanently hungry.
and he is more than happy to spoil you rotten, of course.
“let me know if they taste better than what they look like,” he says, setting the plate down with a confidence that’s odd for someone who doesn’t cook. it’s endearing.
you huffed out a tiny laugh, tilting your head while looking at it. then back at him. then at it again, all while fighting back a small smile. he laughed, shaking his head and leaning in closer, pressing a small kiss to your head, “don’t be a cunt,” he said fondly before walking back to the sink.
you broke into a laugh at it, picking up the fork and the knife. “hey. that’s no way to talk to a pregnant lady.” you teased as you cut a small piece of the pancake.
he grinned even though you couldn’t see it with his back facing you as he cleaned off the pan he used, shaking his head as he teased back: “my pregnant lady.”
you take a bite, humming around the fork because they are surprisingly good. you giggle quietly as you watch his shoulders relax as he scrubs the pan, humming back to you like he’s saying ‘see?’
“they’re sooooo good,” you say sweetly. then, you set the fork down and waddle over to him, sliding your arms around his waist from behind – or as far as they’ll go around him with the bump in the way. he turns his head, already smirking and leaning closer to your lips that are trying really hard to give him kisses on the cheek. you manage, giving him tiny pecks and not minding the light scruff tickling your nose while muttering “thank you, thank you” in between kisses.
── .✦
later, the plates are stacked in the sink and you’re both on the couch. you’re tucked into his side, his arm around your shoulder and his other one drawing gentle patterns on your stomach.
you scoff as robbie williams comes along on the tv, just because. shifting your weight as you mutter “asshole”
noel lets out a short scoff back, lips curling up and his hand reaching for the remote. “prick,” he agrees instantly.
he clicks the button, changing the channel until the screen settles on a tv program that you don’t really know what it’s about, just has a pretty beachy view. you perk up, “ohh, you know what? we should take a vacation before i give birth.”
he breathes out a tiny chuckle, amused. he turns his face towards yours, eyebrows raising softly, “yeah?” rubbing slow circles over your stomach. “where d’you wanna go then?”
you smile, nodding. “maybe france? oh my god, what if she’s born abroad? we could give her a little beret and everything.” you joke fondly.
he laughed, closing his eyes and resting the top of his head on the crook of your neck. “a beret?” he says amused.
you laughed, “mhm. teach her how to say oh la la or something.”
noel laughs. then, he shifts his head until he pressed his lips softly to your temple, rubbing your belly in wide circles. “well, we could go to thailand again.” he suggests easily.
your brows furrow for a second, then you pull back just enough to look at him.
he looks back at you, “what?”
“we’ve never been to thailand, noel.” you say dryly, eyebrows raising slightly. in that way you always do when he fucks up.
he blinks, sheepishly. “oh. r-right…”
you tilted your head, eyebrows raising and pushing his hand off from your belly. “are you confusing me with what's her face?” you ask, teasing more than anything, but you’re aware of how it sounds like a tiny scold. good.
he laughs, closing his eyes, looking genuinely embarrassed, and immediately leans in to start pamper your neck with soft kisses, trying to find his way back into your good graces. “thought we’d gone, love. sorry.”
”we went to hawaii, noel. not fucking thailand” you say simply, as you try to move away from his kisses.
“i know darlin’, i’m sorry. i'm sorry,” he mutters against your neck, moving closer despite it all, his breath warm on your skin. “didn't mean to”
“no. it's fine.” you say, but your tone is dry and clipped. you shift away a fraction, playing the part of the angry missus perfectly.
deep down, you aren't really jealous, you know you're it for him. but you’re hormonal, incredibly horny and a little bored, and you want to see him squirm a little.
“come on, darlin’…” he coaxed, his voice dropping as he nibbled your neck softly. “you're not jealous, are you?”
you don’t answer. you just stare at the tv, chin tilted up. he’ still trying to lure you in with kissing, his lips curled into a soft smirk moving from your jaw to the sensitive spot behind your ear. “you're literally carrying my kid, love…” he whispers.
“i'm pregnant with your kid, yes. so, i get to do whatever i want”
“cmon…” he says softly, hand sliding up your thigh and his palm pressing softly over your clothed cunt. “i’m sorry, darling…”
“yeah?” you breathe out softly, despite yourself.
“mhm. prettiest… girl i’ve ever fuckin’ had. only one i want.” he whispers in your ear. still kissing your neck and sliding his hand inside your shorts waistband and finding you already slick, smearing your arousal over your folds in wide circles and not daring to tease as you gasped softly. “best fuckin’ cunt i’ve ever had, love.”
you tipped your head back, his name escaping your lips in a needy and whiny moan. he can’t really see what he’s doing, but he doesn’t mind, he just feels his way through and listens to the small wet noises he cannot ever get enough.
“y’walk around like that… my kid inside you and a ring on your finger. can’t even think about other bird’s name.” he said lowly, pressing his middle and ring finger inside your entrance and slipping in without any resistance – all while still making sure he’s pressing the heel of his hand over your clit. he knows how you like it.
you moaned softly, head falling to the side and resting on his shoulder. your chest was already going up and down at a faster pace, eyes opening with struggle to watch his hand working you only to be met with your own belly on the way.
you breathe out a laugh despite yourself, “can’t… fuck. you can’t even see what you’re doing down there.” you tease, breathless.
he shakes his head, smirking and not letting up on the movement of his hand. “s’alright,” he mutters, his fingers inside you slow and steady, his mouth gently kissing your cheek. “know how to make my missus feel good. don’t i?“
you moaned, moving until your lips found his in a slow and messy kiss, moaning softly inside his mouth as your legs twitched in pleasure.
he whispered against your lips, fingering you in a perfect rhythm. “prettiest mummy there is, look at you, hm? my girl. no need to be jealous.”
you moaned, a needy whimper as you reached out for him too, your hand finding him through his trousers. already hard, waiting for you.
he breathes out a low moan, pressing his hips upwards to meet your touch. “yeah?” he teases, his eyes fluttering shut.
you moan, nodding as you undo the lace of his joggers and eagerly push them down – clumsily – with one hand. he moans and kisses you again once you wrap your palm around his cock, stroking it up and down slowly, your cunt clenches around his fingers and you moan inside his mouth at the feeling of his warmth on your hand.
noel's breath hitches the second your thumb brushes the leaking slit of his tip, his head falling back against the sofa cushions and immediately propping back up to watch your hand jerk him off.
he lets out a needy groan as you tighten your grip, twitching his hips upwards and pulling you closer to his side with his arm around your shoulders, while his other hand fucks your soaked cunt with even more precision.
“fuck... yeah?” he breathes out, cutting himself off as he pulls you into another kiss, swallowing down your moans just as needy as his. “wanna make… this daddy feel good too, hm? that's my girl.”
you moan, and as your hips move against his hand, chasing his touch, stroking him faster, you mutter against his mouth – shaky but firm, meaning every single word. “you're mine. every inch. fucking mine.”
he nods eagerly, breathlessly moaning against your lips and bucking into your hand, pathetically turned on at the wet sounds of his fingers inside your cunt and your words in between your pretty moans – despite trying to keep his composure. his fingers are still buried deep inside you, mirroring the pace, making you feel full and desperate.
“she a better fuck than me?” you murmur, syrupy and needy, against his lips. your thumb catches the bead of pre cum at his tip before it smears it down again.
noel gasps, a broken sound leaving his throat as he shakes his head violently. “no... no, course not. no one has. not even… fuck– fuckin’ close. never did.”
you moan at his words, eyes already glassy with your imminent orgasm as you choke out, “yeah?”
“fuck. y-yeah.” he says. already whiny and nearly gone just with your hand, his usual cockiness completely gone as he thrusts into your palm. and he doesn't let up on you, his fingers keep curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.
“you think about me when you were fucking her?” you moaned out.
he lets out a long moan, blue eyes squeezing shut as he loses the battle with his own body. “yes, fuck.” he chokes out, his voice a shaky rasp. “always... always. even before, always you in me head.”
you moaned, eyebrows furrowing and head dropping back. your hand let up on stroking his cock for a moment, but it’s fine. neither of you mind if you’re a little selfish right now – it’s not on purpose.
he takes it as an opportunity to focus on you, minding more attention to your throbbing clit under his palm as his fingers curl inside you. he leans in your ear, “so fuckin’ fit like this. carrying my baby. takin' care of me like this... fucking love you.” he whispers, his tone needy and shaky as he keeps bucking into your hand even if it isn’t fully tight around his cock. god, he’s needy.
you gasped, moaning and babbling his name and “yes” over and over.
he moaned in your ear as a response, “yeah? got no fucking clue what you do to me. makes me wanna put another one in you.” – he cuts himself with a moan, looking at your hand tightening around his cock again and feeling his own feels his climax building – “and this one’s not even out yet”
you moan. loud and needy. you tighten your grip on him, your hand slick and still moving with a frantic pace. “keep talking,” you plead, your voice breaking. “tell me. don’t stop, baby… please.”
you’re arching your back, your bump making the angle awkward but the sensation twice as intense for you and him. his forehead pressed hard against your temple as he tries to keep his eyes open to look at you. “you’re so fucking wet. can hear it. luckiest bastard in this fuckin’ world, me.”
his tone is feral, needy and eager. like he wants to worship the ground you walk on, not let you lift a finger just because you’re his missus carrying his kid – and still needs to hold himself back so he doesn’t pull your hair while he fucks you from behind and reminds you who you belong to.
“look at me,” he commands, his voice dropping as he feels how close you are. the rhythm of his hips matching the pace of your hand. “look at me while i’m givin’ it to you”
you open your eyes with struggle just in time to see his face crumple in pleasure, all that usual arrogance melting into pure adoration and lust.
“fuckin’ hell,” he moans, throwing his head back and biting his bottom lip as he bucks into your hand, his voice cracking. “keep doin’ that. yeah. right there. fuck. gonna make me cum.”
he lets out a long “fuck” as he spills over at the same time his fingers give you that one last, perfect push over the edge – making you gasp and whimper as you cum, pulsing hard around his fingers. unable to mind the mess he’s making all over your hand.
the room is silent for few seconds, except for the sound of your combined heavy breathes and the distant hum of the telly. noel is slumped against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, completely wrecked. his fingers shaky as they slowly withdraw from you.
he lets out a long, shaky exhale, “gonna be the fucking death of me, you are.” he mutters into your neck, his tone is low but you can hear the small smile he has on.
you giggle breathlessly, your body still humming with the aftershocks. you shift slightly, feeling the weight and the mess between you, but you don't move away. not yet. you only reach down with your clean hand to stroke the damp hair away from his forehead. “you started it. talking about thailand,” you tease softly.
he groans, defeated – but he’s laughing, too. he lifts his head just enough to look at you, his blue eyes still blown wide. “i’m a fuckin' idiot, aren't i?”
you laugh, shaking your head and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. “it’s okay. it’s your dad brain catching up, i think.”
he breathes out a laugh, eyes closing and head resting on the back of the couch. “already? fuck me.”
you laugh, shaking your head and snuggling your face on the side of his neck. he moves away with a groan like it physically hurts him, you blink and let out a small whimper in protest as he pads down to the bathroom anyway, coming back with a damp towel to clean the mess – and a cheeky smile on his face at the usual neediness he never gets tired of.
“you alright?” he asks, looking up at you with that fond expression as he gently rubs the towel over your sticky hand. “baby didn't kick me for being a prick, did she?” he teased with a soft smirk.
you laughed, shaking your head. he smiled back and dropping back beside you with a small sigh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss on your hair, hand rubbing your back up and down gently. “france it fuckin’ is, then.”
when are you gonna post room mate liam. it's yearning hours!!!!! love you
i actually can't think abt pervy flat mate liam for more than 3 minutes without having a visceral reaction. he is so perfect horny loser 2 me. like sleeps in ur bed when ur at ur boyfs place bc he misses u. calls u his best friend. cries at the airport when he leaves for tour and then sleeps w ur jumper like he's the gf. then probably fucks someone and freaks out if she tries to wear it the morning after like DON'T TOUCH THAT WHAT THE FUCK. [writing little blurbs abt them in my head and will post when i finish 4 the summer 🧘♀️🧘♀️ hello tutors i need a mandatory break from studying to write abt pathetic men online. thank u so much.]
the amount of likes u get is criminalllllll 😭😭 dick riding u into oblivion rn. helloooo. where is the audience - 🦋
im rebranding it as being a niche micro influencer. like no one understands but us. u just wouldn't get me and my oomfs. and u can't join the club unless u are perfect girl deluded like us...
bye 😭😭 honestly i might. and all bc i want to have late 90s noels babies #needthat. the fact his first kid was a girl too. him as a girl dad and the kid isn't even mine 💔💔 IM IRRITATED AS FUCK IM IRRITATED AS FUCK IM IR
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I love the little trying for a baby with Noel fic, soooo cute. Also the lore accurate childhood photo of Noel made me laugh, why does everyone have that picture?
omg thank u so much lovely anon 🫶😭🫶 i always sit down trying to write for liam and it ends up being noel bc im not normal abt him lol. he is so cutesy material 2 me. also his school childhood photos are actually good and r actually cute i would rather DIEEEE than revisit mine 😭😭 good god...
“That’s what our kids would look like.” While waiting for the kettle to boil, Noel had been inspecting the pieces of paper littering the front of the fridge, looking past the tacky magnets he’d collected from tourist shops the world over, and focusing on the two childhood photos you’d stuck side by side over the top of a long-abandoned shopping list; if he squints, he can almost imagine a world were you met as kids, instead of in sticky pub on a random weekday in your early twenties.
“I hope they look like you, you’re cuter.” Confident, as though it were a scientific fact rather than a matter of opinion, you wave your teaspoon in the direction of his photo; a copy of his year seven school portrait that made you coo every time you caught sight of it, looking all smart in his blazer and tie with the sides of his eyes crinkling up in the same way they do now. Having kids together was something you’d talked about plenty of times when you were both drunk, munching on the takeaway food you’d got on the way home, though the subject had never been breached in the light of day.
“Don’t be daft.” Noel dismisses, reaching up to get the teabags from the top cupboard. Lately, he’d lost count of the number of meals he’d burnt because he was too busy staring at your childhood photo and daydreaming; wondering what it’d be like to try and make dinner with a tiny version of you tugging at his jumper for his attention, and if his heart would ever recover. “You just feel sorry for me cause’ of my bowl cut.”
“No, I still think you’re cuter.” Stubborn in the same way he is, you’re unwavering with your stance. He still remembers how you’d sat in his mother’s front room on Christmas Day, still adorning the paper crown you’d worn at dinner, with a photo album open in your lap and your bottom lip jutted all the way upon seeing him as a toddler waddling around in his winter coat, as though the notion of him once being so little and so cold was enough to make you burst into fits of tears.
“You're biased, is what you are.” Noel watches you pour two sugars into your own mug and holds back his usual comment about how all your teeth are going to fall out one day. Instead, he nibbles on the inside of his cheek and smiles down at his feet, grinning at the contrast of his Adidas trainers next to your worn pink slippers, looking like your very own version of yin and yang, and laughs to himself.
ii.
“I feel like we need a licence for it.” Flicking your indicators on to turn left, you lean forward slightly, as though being closer to the windscreen might help you see through the masses of rain hitting the glass. It was the middle of spring, and although the man doing the weather report earlier that morning had insisted on clear skies, you’d both been met with nothing but a big grey cloud and a row of paps with umbrellas as you rushed from the front door to unlock his car.
“For turning?” Suddenly appalled, Noel moves from where he’d been wiping the condensation off the passenger window with the sleeve of his jacket, erasing all the little doodles he’d done to see you smile. He knows you can be an anxious driver, especially behind the wheel of the expensive cars he’d bought with his residual cheques, though this new notion seems incredibly far-fetched, even for someone who still avoids roundabouts years after passing their driving test.
“No, for having a baby.” Ever since you’d come off your birth control pills and decided not to renew your prescription, fragments of this same conversation had begun to seep into the domestic routines of your shared life; just yesterday, while brushing your teeth, you’d explained to him how odd it was, finally not caring about getting pregnant, when you and your friends had spent most of your adult lives trying to aviod it like the plague, and treating pending pregnancy tests like the female version of russian roulette. “It feels wrong that anyone can just try for one.”
“If Liam’s done it, then any prick can have a go.” While Noel had welcomed being an uncle with open arms, hearing his brother talk about changing nappies and clearing up baby sick never failed to make him laugh; if anyone stood as a pillar of reassurance that you’ll never feel quite mature enough to have kids, it was Liam, who took more interest in his son’s baby toys than anything else during his wife’s pregnancy, despite insisting otherwise. “You’ll be perfect.”
iii.
“That nice?” Lips pressed against the side of your neck, Noel shamelessly darts his tongue out to taste your sweat; under the glow of his bedside lamp, with a gleaming sheen of it over your skin, you look like a cinematic wet dream, straight out of a sex scene in a romantic film he vaguely remembers seeing and hasn’t recalled until now. His breath stutters in his throat, caught there like he’s been stabbed in the chest, as his fingers slip between your thighs. “You’re so wet, Jesus.”
“Can’t help it.” For a moment, with your voice all needy, he sees a glimpse of the girl whose hands shook when you both slept together for the first time; back when he used to have to kiss your knuckles, and mumble jokes into your hair to calm you down. It was so uncharacteristic of you to sound like that now, though maybe part of you has reverted back to that mindset with the new weight of what you were doing, that this was something with a tangible purpose, an end goal.
“No, it’s good.” He reassures gently, trying to remember how to form a proper thought as his mouth falls agape at the sight of his fingertips going all shiny with your slick, and the little whiny moan you do at the loss of contact. Sometimes, he wishes he had a better memory so he could play that sound on loop, along with the visual of you fluttering your eyelashes shut and squeezing at his forearm as he presses his fingers in, sinking down to the first knuckle with the kind of practised ease that comes with years of love. “Fucking squeezing around nothing.”
“Noel.” You breathe out, for no particular reason, in the same way he sometimes does with your name, just to feel the warm familiarity of the word on your tongue. It was remarkable the way you could turn something as simple as his name into something that sounded like tender poetry, especially after the years he’d spent rejecting it and dismissing it as nothing but a cruel joke that he was named after Christmas when he was born almost six months after the fact in late May.
“Not gonna waste it. Gonna fill you up, swear.” Though it was early days and he had next to no knowledge of how this whole ‘trying for a baby’ thing worked, he could still grasp the common-sense aspect of it all and knew he would have to go against years of habit and try not to pull out at the last minute. Later, he’d perhaps read up on it, realise he probably has to time things better with your cycle, or try that old wives' tale of holding your legs up for ten minutes afterwards. Though this would be good enough for now, more than good enough actually. “I promise.”
iv.
“Don’t. You might be pregnant.” Exhaling a plume of smoke from between his lips, Noel refuses your hand that’s reaching out for a drag of his cigarette. It was perhaps too optimistic a concern, though not a completely deluded one, since your pursuit of trying to have kids had expanded into having unprotected sex on most surfaces in the house, and tracking your period on the calendar in the kitchen with a pack of glittery gel pens you’d found in the junk drawer.
“God, you’ve gone and jinxed it now.” Chewing on the last of your cereal, you huff, letting your spoon clatter dramatically against the bowl. Upon opening the curtains and seeing a blue sky, you’d both insisted on eating your breakfast outside, completely undeterred by the wet garden furniture and the damp grass if it meant sitting in the sun and pretending like you were in the countryside, rather than a little patch of green behind a house in London. “Touch wood.”
“I’m not touching wood, it’s fine.” Only superstitious when he truly felt like it, Noel shakes his head and taps some cigarette ash onto his empty plate. Unlike you, he was a firm believer that words could never hinder biology or fate, and that talking about it all he liked would probably do nothing but bore you senseless; two days ago, he’d expressed premature worry about how he was going to teach his kid to swim when he couldn’t do it himself, and you’d had to reassure him that he didn’t even have one yet.
“You have to.” Though your eyebrows are furrowed in the middle with concern, all Noel can think about is how cute you look in your pyjamas with his hoodie on to keep you warm from the mid-morning cold; for something to do with your fingers, you’d tied the strings up into a neat bow, and all he could do was joke about how much it made you look like a cartoon character, as he laughed through bites of his jam-covered toast. "Go on."
“Fine. Touch wood.” Giving in, Noel presses his palm against the top of the table, saying the words aloud like they might add an extra layer of good luck to soothe your worry. Truthfully, he knew it’d only be a matter of time before he did what you wanted, since denying you anything for too long felt like it would cause him physical pain; he’d once tried to explain to his brother how leaving you to go on tour sometimes felt like having a heart attack, though he’d only been met with a puzzled expression.
“Thank you.” You nod definitively, picking up your bowl to drink the chocolate-flavoured milk still sitting at the bottom, just as your kid will probably do in five years' time, when Noel will have the perfect opportunity to use that world-renowned phrase of ‘you’re just like your mother’ and actually wholeheartedly mean it.
Still on my roommate bs, imagine Liam gets one of those disposable cameras (trying to stay true to the 90s and i KNOW liam isn’t buying his own camera) and he’s taking pictures of you with his cum on your tits and if he’s away on tour he’ll tug one out to it and then call you and be all ‘god yer so fit in these pictures’ and all whiny and and saying how he’ll cuddle you and whatnot and how much he misses you.
shut up the disposable camera 😭😭 and bickering while taking them like ‘liam you have to…fucking wind it all the way. there. take it now. fuck sake, the flash wasn’t on’ while being mid-pose in the filthiest position everrr. you making him swear on everything ever not to misplace them bc theres no explaining that away. also mid-phone sex attempt him being like ‘no do it properly get into it’ and ur like ‘why can’t you just get with someone or something i’m trying to sleep here’ and he’s like 'i want you tho :( no one knows me here like you do.' sighhhh.
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to add to that whole room mate liam convo u were having (im late). feel like if they ever started sleeping together she'd go on the pill to let liam hit it raw lol and he'd take it as the highest honour like thank u 🙏🙏🙏🙏 dear god thank u 🙏🙏 bc she doesn't do that with anyone else. like not even her boyfriend if she had one. also would be funny if liam acc got on with her boyfriend. liam standing in the kitchen talking abt football like he didnt fuck the guys girlfriend last night ??hdjsanjcf././ LOL
BYEEEE. if liam liked him he would be like well that's my boyfriend in law actually. also i know their safety marriage pact would go crazzzyyy. them agreeing to have kids together if they don't have any by like 35 but then liam gets married and has one 💔💔💔
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