monverr ⋆˚꩜｡

that's a really tough one because i dont really actually use faceclaims for my wattpad fics! there's isnt a specific person i have in mind whenever i write, mainly they're multiple people's personalities/vibes integrated into one.

but if i had to choose... i'd always go for someone like debbie harry. absolutely stunning. and she's just got that few and charm to her!! coolest person alive.

found this picture of noel and i can't help but think about how adorable they'd be going on holidays with their kiddos 😭

i'm going to try and start writing on the final chapter during my christmas break and hopefully i'll get it done by the new year :3

going to be one long, heavy, and emotional one. and cathartic! (and yes... i'll get that noel smut done soon too its just that uni's been kicking my ass hard)

Waiting patiently…

unfortunately i don't think i will... not anytime soon </3 i know it's been ages since i first updated that fic and believe me, it's a project im incredibly passionate about because astrid and liam already means eveeeerything to me - i think they might be my favourite couple yet. young, and adorable, and yearnful, angsty. everything.

but i've been so busy with uni nowadays, and on top of that i still need to wrap up femme fatale. if anything, i'll only resume it after i'm officially done with femme fatale. the idea of multitasking two fics at once is terrible because when i did that at first, i kept messing up astrid's name with maia's 😭😭😭

my request is, would you share some pictures/quotes/scenes/songs or whatever that inspired you writing femme fatale??

thank you!! xxx

i've gotten two or three requests similar to this, so i thought it's time to finally make a post about it. unfortunately i won't add / explore pictures as i didn't really have any as inspiration while i wrote this fic. also, if you know me, you'll know that i tend to overanalyse, explain, and talk a little too much.. and that's the case here. but i'm veeeery passionate about femme fatale and adore questions like this. so sit tight, enjoy, and thank you again for this question :)

general inspiration .

daisy jones & the six. that's.. yeah, pretty much my biggest inspiration. i adored the book, and LOVED the series. i really tried to create maia's character based on daisy's - i'm not sure if you'd be able to see the resemblance. but daisy's someone who's incredibly complex. she's not perfect, and she's repeatedly done things in her career and personal life that often displays her as unlikable and arrogant. but it's never as simple as that. it's not black and white. both daisy and maia are morally grey characters. they aren't meant to be likeable, not the way you expect anyway. you like them not because of their actions and words - but rather because of what led them to do it in the first place. it stems from trauma, fear of abandonment, attachment issues, being the outlier. it's more so about needing to prove themselves that they can make it big, and they're not going to stop no matter the route they have to take. when they get attached - it breaks them down a little, they get involved in a manipulative relationship that leaves them weaker than the initially was deep down. and they cope by hurting others just so they can protect this bubble of protection around themselves. it doesn't make them a bad person. maia's not a horrible person. she's just perfectly imperfect. incredibly.

and personally, i think if you complain about maia being an incredibly unlikable protagonist, one whom you cannot stand... then you haven't read far enough to understand the exact point of the fic.. you're missing the whole point of the fic and its themes - that NOBODY in that damn story is perfect. Carti is a MASSIVE fucking asshole, there's no denying that - but it stems from something different. anette was imperfect and had wronged maia plenty of times, that didn't make her corrupted. things just wasn't black and white. and that's exactly what i wanted to express in each and every one of my characters. the pattern is that sometimes, you're not meant to like the characters.

take Carti for instance. you're there to see this sweet side of him in the start, the part where Libertines feels like family and how fondly he takes care of these girls. you like him then. until you don't. and it doesn't just switch out of nowhere. it happens for a reason.. and whether it greatly justifies his actions in controlling maia and destroying the band's relationships.. well, i think everyone agrees that it in fact, does not. but the two bands' rivalry and maia dragging him in between her and liam's relationship was the trigger. and on top of his addictions and deteriorating mental health, everything else that follows is just a result of an accumulation of new triggers and hatred. doesn't make it right. doesn't make him likeable at all. but if you truly understand these small triggers - then some part of you will feel obliged to see things his from his perspective in some ways, and anette's, and everyone's elses. that's the way i want to write them!

films.

i do also take quotes and scenes inspiration from a few films that i adore.. i never did admit that i was an original!! i love sneaking in familiar moments from films and sculpting them the way i see fit. i can't exactly recall which were the ones i used for femme fatale (frankly, some might have been for cigarettes and alcohol). but here are some quotes and films i took inspiration from;

"You can't control another person. It doesn't matter how much you love them. You can't love someone back to health and you can't hate someone back to health and no matter how right you are about something, it doesn't mean they will change their mind." - Daisy Jones & The Six

this, i think, is the basis of each and every character in femme fatale. especially more so when it comes to maia's relationships with both noel and liam. with noel, it was the threat of the heroin, and the start of her 'downfall' when she struggled to write one of the albums. noel tried to nurse her out of it, suggested they moved away, that they started fresh. abandon all the parties and drugs. he loved her SO much but that's not enough, because you can't ever love someone back to good health. not when they don't want to. not when it's not what they need. and as for with liam - it was during the peak of maia's panic attacks, and of course, the aftermath of all that's happened with noel. when you think of it, at some point.. liam just really, really, fucking resented her. hated her for having him, and somehow also not wanting him.

"You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much." - Good Will Hunting

you might find some resemblance between maia and will's characters. they're scared of love. of change. of stepping out of their comfort zone. all their lives they've always held to this notion that they're not good enough - that they've been neglected, tossed aside, alone. it makes them say terrible things to those they love. tell the other person that they feel no romantic emotions in spite it being the furthest from the truth. they're aware it makes them an asshole, but they also find that they don't necessarily owe it to anyone to be good, or to tell the truth. they've lived for themselves and that's all they have ever known. they store the real damaged parts of themselves away from the people who matters most, because they're not exactly sure if their truths are shown - will still love them?

"If you want love, then this is it. This is real life. It's not perfect but it's real." - Before Midnight

can it get anymore maia and noel to you? i'm sure you guys will also acknowledge this, but maia was a terrible, terrible girlfriend to noel. especially during the earlier parts of the relationship. the shit she had going on with liam, the almost kiss, the sneaky calls at night. there's no excuse for that and i'm not going to come up with one either. the truth is that, maia IS damaged goods. she's horrible to those she loves, at least at first. it's because she doesn't know what the hell she wants, and what to do when things are good. she's never had anything good in her life - nothing like noel. like love. like actual, proper, love, and understanding, and connection. she doesn't think she deserves it. she was not a good girlfriend to noel, not at first.

that's why i was surprised to see so many root for them in the first place. because like... he deserved better. but that's the whole point isn't it? she's a femme fatale.

but i think what's most important is that towards the end, or later on.. noel wasn't perfect either. of course, he was healing on his own - but he ignored her letters (though none would blame him for it), and worse, he used the baby name he promised to have with her. that's the reality for them, though. with life and love. shit is never perfect. especially if you live their kind of lives. what keeps them together is the trauma. the understanding of what it's like to feel less, to feel abandoned, neglected, unloved. to only have yourself. that's what continues to keep them together, what makes them so perfect for each other. because nobody understands the other more than they do. and for their history and lack of closure when it comes to a family and marriage... it's something that only they can overcome. together. so no, it's not perfect. it never will be. but true perfection is imperfect, and they know that. they're aware that for them to get married now - it will mean complication. upsetting liam. making things uncomfortable with their families. it means criticism from the press and media. but for love, for real life, they're okay with the imperfections.

"Act one, in which she pretends she doesn’t care about him. Act two, in which he pretends he doesn’t care about her, but goes right for her. Act three, in which it all plays out the way she planned it. She’ll eat him alive." - Almost Famous

now, this one can be applied to noel too, of course. but the way i see it, this is maia and liam. perfectly them. first time around, he's madly in love with her and she goes to sleep with someone else. liam resents her to death, or at least pretends to - because how could he ever, and seriously, ever, resent her? he went back even after she slept with carti. crawled back to her even after they slept together when she and noel were 'broken' up - spent a whole night with her after she returned to london from LA for an awards show, and even then, he can't fucking breathe with or without her. not once has liam ever properly said he resented her for all she's done to him. and between him and noel.. well, liam's always been the one to be most expressive of his love and adoration for her. every. fucking. time. don't get me started on all the scenes between them whenever he was in LA to see her. probably some of my favourite scenes of them because it felt soooo raw and genuine. it's a bit of a controversial take, coming from the author herself - but i do think nobody quite loves maia the way liam does. what he had for her came properly from the heart, even after all those years. the only problem was that they were way too similar in the sense that they let their emotions get the best of themselves. they always resort to saying things they dont mean. they act out instead of dealing it like grown adults. and as much as i acknowledge that the love he has for her is the most sincere of all, the only reason why it cannot come close to noel's affection is because of plain old history.

maia and noel simply grew up with the same damage to their inner selves, and when together, they experienced worst. and that trauma and lack of closure itself is what continues to tie them invisibly back together. he gets her like no other. i've always said that they were one, while maia and liam were two sides of the same coin. similar, but not exactly. they needed different things.

songs.

since i've already added a track list for femme fatale in the introduction chapter, i'll avoid repeating those songs here. i do also have a spotify playlist each for maia/noel, maia/liam, the libertines, and maia herself, if anyone's interested! the maia/noel one is titled 'blondie' and was actually shared with me by a reader who composed the playlist themselves LMAO. it was so sweet and i still listen to it up until now whenever i need inspiration to write about my lovebirds. that being said, here are songs that specifically inspired a particular scene / chapter in the fic.

landslide by fleetwood mac

okay, this didn't necessarily inspire any specific scenes, but i built the foundation of maia and noel's relationship on this song. from the very start. i already had a vivid idea of how complicated i wanted their relationship to be, and at the same time - how much their lives revolved around each other, even in the most subtle and unconscious of ways. this is straight from my notes (back when i was drafting the rough plot of the fic), but essentially, the rough idea is that they're both terrified of loving each other.. and then terrified of losing the other.

"well i've been afraid of changing because i built my life around you."

this line alone tells you exactly what happened after they broke up in Norway. maia doesn't notice it then, but she had grown to become super dependent on noel. he was her life guard, whether or not she wanted to admit it. she had entered a world she never saw before and suddenly, with noel gone, she's completely fucking abandoned and alone. nobody to help. no one to trust. nobody to love her. he was her standard. to live every part of her life behind and move to LA was extremely difficult - hence the letters. because he's the only person she can talk to. only person who would understand her. the only person she learned to turn to when things got hard. but of course.. noel avoided her at all costs. until it was too late.

say yes by elliott smith

this definitely inspired my lovely maia and liam's relationship. it's not necessarily.. a sad thing or song. but it's very, very, very liam. i think it captures perfectly how he feels about himself and maia. he knows his worth, he knows he can have anyone and will do so. but he wants her, desperately, terribly, and maia never really knows what she wants.

"i'm damaged bad at best, she'll decide what she wants. i'll probably be the last to know."

YOU. CANT. TELL. ME. THAT'S. NOT. LIAM'S. PERSPECTIVE.

constant reminder that liam's spent more of his time with maia YEARNING for her, than he did ever dating her. he watched her with noel. with carti. with irwin. and exactly when things started to fall into place, she was at her absolute worst (or as elliott smith says, situations got fucked up). the letters being leaked, noel being back in the picture, liam and his family, maia's panic attacks and drug issues, then.. him wanting to start a family with her whilst she wanted it with someone else.

a letter to elise by the cure

this chapter was on replay as i wrote chapter twenty nine, otherwise known as the chapter where noel breaks up with maia after proposing to her. when i tell yall... this chapter was HEARTBREAKING to write. but it inspired the entire plot. i think some people initially misinterpreted noel ending things with her as him being upset that she had the abortion. if you take the context of the song and read the chapter again - you'll find that it's the furthest from the truth. noel would NEVER be upset with her over that. he was devastated because she had thrown EVERY single progress they've made as a couple, as people. he felt betrayed and neglected by the fact that she didn't think to tell him what was happening with the band and label. but instead told anette and went as far as staying over at anette's just to avoid him. it was the failure of trust. never to do with her decision. he felt that he had given it his all to give maia EVERY part of him. to change. to become a better person. and he thought that he had done enough to also make her more comfortable with expressing herself.. only to find that she had gone back down that route of only trusting herself.

my best friend's girl by the cars

this is pretty straightforward. the 'best friend' being noel, and liam's in love with his girl. not really much details on this, but it is in my liam playlist because it's exactly what this is.

i will by the beatles

if you're up to date with the fic then you would know why this song is on here. it's maia and liam's song. i never fully explored the existence of this plot in a proper prose/scene - but it stems from maia and liam's phone calls in the late-ish 90s, back when liam was with patsy, and maia with noel. liam had lennon by then. she and liam would ring late at night just talking bollocks... again, another reminder that maia was never known to be a good girlfriend the first time around. the private late phone calls, talking about whatever, mainly when liam was up with baby lennon because the boy could never sleep without being all fussy. so maia would accompany him. whispering. in their own world. one time liam was siccccck of not being able to put the boy to bed, and they just started singing lullabies. songs. whichever that would work. nothing did until maia started humming the tune to i will. then it started becoming a norm - him ringing maia, her singing his son to bed. disgustingly domestic. indecorous. immoral. but hey, that's maia and liam.

and of course... that songs comes back when maia herself struggled in LA. they'd ring again and liam would be the one to hum it to her this time, or when he's in LA sneaking around with her. when they eventually started dating again. the importance of the song makes a cold exit when liam eventually stops singing it to her altogether - when she's in their bed, in agony, struggling to sleep, having withdrawals, having silent panic attacks.. and he doesn't bother to help anymore because of how fucked things' been between them. he starts realising that he's not wanted by her, not like that. not the way she wants noel.

hanging on the telephone by blondie

had this song in mind as i wrote the LA era. specifically, after maia and liam spent that night together in London before she flew back. the phone calls they used to have - how it became their routine. of course, the calls itself meant a lot more than just phone calls. it was about connection. comfort. support. for liam, it was about being back to talking to the girl he's been in love with since the mid 90s (if not early 90s.. if we include him being a fan of maia and libertines). and for maia.. it's about finally talking to someone who actually shows her what love is meant to look like. not the threats. not the controls. not emotional manipulation. not irwin may. and unfortunately, not noel gallagher - who's been avoiding her at all costs.

"if i don't get your calls then everything goes wrong."

but most importantly, being able to ring and hear each other means one thing. one important thing. that maia's okay. alive. misses him. sometimes, it means that irwin's out and hanging her dry alone for days, which in liam's definition, is a good fucking thing. because it means that she's away from that asshole. safe.

she will be loved by maroon 5

one of the readers mentioned how this song reminded them of maia and liam post 2000s and ever since then, it's been stuck in my head. literally them. that's it. nothing else to add.

"look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while, and she will be loved."

matilda by harry styles

maia bloody harket. my darling. my perfectly imperfect girl. this song plays whenever i think of her, even more so after the most recent chapter - which, although i personally think is a bit of a slow one, is necessary to show the gradual peace and healing to end this fic on a good note. she will heal. she will beloved. she might not have a proper and real family that loves her the way she wanted. she might never have a brother / family beyond morten, marie, cami.. and i suppose her mother. but one day, she will have a family of her own. and she will love them the way she wished to be. and they will love her the way she deserves.

"you can start a family who will always show you love, you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own."

in my life the beatles

very, very, libertines. baby libertines. deep down, somewhere beneath all the agony and resentment and sharp tongues.. it will always be them. of course i won't explore this in the fic later on, but it is canon.

maia loves carti. anette loves carti. carti loves them. even after all that's happened. it's controversial and you guys might not find fit wise nor suitable but.. guys, i wish you'd understand how special their relationship used to be. i wish i had explored more of young libertines before bringing in the rivalry with oasis. because without it, i never got to properly show you guys how REAL their connection was. they're fucking everything. each others' lives. best mates. every. thing.

I just started Femme Fatale, I literally just finished chapter five, what a cliffhanger! But I wanted to ask if you thought about posting the fic on AO3. If not, what would be the reason?

Love your writing so far!! Hope you have a good day

-🌻

hello :)

i've never really thought about posting it on AO3 simply because i've never used nor explored it before! i've been using wattpad since i was embarrassingly young, so it's what i'm most familiar with.

that being said, i don't have anything against posting femme fatale on A03 too (if people think it'd be wise) as i do love the fic and would want it to reach more people! although, if people do suggest i do that, and i agree to do so - i think it'd be better if i re-edit some of the earlier chapters as i feel like it doesn't really capture how i've grown as a writer towards the end of the fic itself 😭 the inconsistencies and quality of the writing, imo, changed quite drastically and i'd love to go back and fix the earlier chapters one day.

i have a short pre-fame fic in mind where the reader's been casually seeing this guy (nothing serious or that romantic at all) - and she has a feeling they're bound to have sex for the first time. HOWEVER, she's a complete amateur and clueless when it comes to everything.

even touching herself.

so she turns to one of the brothers' for help, as she's good mates with them and they're clearly experienced. he teaches her how to touch herself and find.. well, the hee haw hiding under the hood.

i'm super conflicted on whether i should make it with liam or noel, so i'm hoping you guys would help pick for me </3

summary: you were Noel's number one fan at every oasis gig, until you went missing. when your paths crossed again, he didn't plan on letting you go without showing what a proper fan should experience.

content: reunion!noel x mid 20s fem!reader, 18+ !!fingering, blow job, no protection used, p in the v.

word count: 5.4k

༻✩༺

He was a sucker for attention, always was then and even more now. The ladies went ballistic for him regardless of the spiky greying hair or the noticeable swell of his belly that often tugged his shirt up whenever he made any minor movements. It was completely fucking flattering, don’t get him wrong - but it was not a perspective that he could happily share in.

Not that he was there to complain.

You see… he had seen you more times than he could have dared to count. Twice in Cardiff. Then another two more times in Heaton Park, then it was Wembley. All of which you were stood right against the metal barrier ahead of his eyesight, eyeing him up as though he was something profoundly reverent. As if he was your God. Shouting. Clutching onto your chest with emotions revving up your face with no genuine care in the world, because right there and then, it was the band’s music and him that mattered most.

Every single time he laid eyes upon you, your hair remained glued to the sweaty forehead, lips utterly wet from saliva as you continued to lick them in between songs. Dehydrated, perhaps. Even over the growling of his guitar and Liam’s raspy cries across the speakers, Noel could still practically pick your voice apart. The constant shrieks of: I love you, Noel! I love you!

No shame. Not a single fuck given. And he spared you a cheeky grin every bloody time, as if the universe would punish him for simply omitting the adoring professions radiating from.. likely, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. You were young, he was aware of that too. Not because he could see it perfectly on your face.. no, the distance between him and the barrier was becoming rather frustrating and impossible. The tell was in the way you moved. The energetic jumps, the victorious throw of your arms, and the way you had bawled into a deafening sound when he dedicated Don’t Look Back In Anger to you. Saying: This one’s for the girl who’s been crying all fuckin’ night long. Cheer the fuck up, love.

That was Wembley.

He hadn’t seen you since then. And trust, he searched for you endlessly in every crowd he played to, kept scanning past every unfamiliar face just to identify the one that constantly managed to flatter him into a state of insanity.

Get this too. He was an easy fella to tease. Really. He gets hard just from the simple thrill of the thousands and generations of pupils singing his words back to him. His cock stiffens even at the numerous light frictions of the guitar on his inner thighs and jeans zipper. And fuck, he couldn’t count the amount of times he had grown a shameless boner at the simple sight of you throwing your chest above the metal barrier, screeching your heart out at him - eyes welling in delighted tears, mouth shaped into a prominent o, and Christ.. he loathed the fact that it got him thinking what it must have looked like to have you bent over the sofa backstage. What your mouth would have looked like wrapped around his stiffening cock. If you would still be as loud as you were in the crowd. Or even louder.

But you weren’t there at any of the other dates. Not in Scotland. Not Ireland. Not in fucking Canada, and much to his dismay, you weren’t there staring him down in the United States either. And it completely did his entire head in. It was utterly ridiculous, that silent disappointment burning along his bloodstream each time your face wasn’t there to greet him. He was fifty-eight, for fuck’s sake. Somewhat newly divorced. His kids were on tour supporting him. And there he was, sulking over some daft young bird who was probably not much older than his eldest. He just couldn’t get you off his mind no matter how hard he tried.

༻✩༺

When Mexico arrived, he made the fair assumption that the two of you would never cross paths again. You had probably exhausted all of your time and money into seeing the band on plenty of occasions, and hadn’t planned on attending any more dates. Probably working. Of course. Not everyone had the charming career of travelling back and forth across the world just to play to a sea of devoted fans. That was the reality of things.

Except reality had a funny way of working.

Initially, Noel convinced himself that his mind was playing games on him, that it was all a figment of his imagination and that the subconscious desire of wanting to memorise your face had driven him into the wilderness. He thinks… no, he’s confident that you were sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant he was having dinner at. Friends and family. His eyes wandered more often than not, squinting to foolishly gain enhancement in his vision, desperate to confirm to himself that it was indeed you. So much to the point he had ignored half of the conversations happening within the table, even going as far as omitting his son’s questions because he was distracted.

He waited for the right opportunity, the right time for anything. To catch you slipping away from the group of girls you were whispering and laughing with, just enough that he could do the same and corner you.

Get the fuck up, Noel thought, get up and excuse yourself, fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden table. You had been laughing all night long, head thrown backwards, hair catching on beautiful fire under the yellow lights. He had never seen you that close before, or under proper lighting. And he was fucking gobsmacked by how much more pleasing you were to the eye.

Then it happened. Your chair scraped backwards as you leaned down to say something to your mates before drifting past all the tables and heading towards the washroom. He pounced faster than he would have liked to admit, ignoring his table’s befuddled stare in response to the abrupt reaction. He excused himself.

He looked like a fucking creep, but frankly, he had no time for shame or second thoughts. If he had to wait outside the women’s washroom just to get a word in with you, he’d do it, no questions asked. And so he did. He waited. A minute turned into two. Then six. And then your sweet and dulcet face emerged from the corner. Fucking hell. If he thought you were beautiful before, then surely he had lost all concept of the proper definition behind such an adjective. Because you were beyond any fucking beauty he had witnessed. Lips rosy and glossy from whatever cosmetics you had applied, hair brushed back neatly, shoulders naturally relaxed, and worse, you were fixing your skirt as you walked out, tugging it upwards to adjust the waistband, revealing plenty of skin in the process.

You paused briefly at the sight of the figure blocking your path, blinking upwards in plain confusion and oblivion. Noel waited and watched as your eyes widened the minute the realisation kicked in.

“Holy fuck.” You uttered, bewildered by the fact that Noel Gallagher was staring right back at you.

Noel didn’t care enough to hold back the laughter. It was the first time he heard you without all the screams, including your own. “A’right?”

“…What?” You breathed dubiously, straightening your back as though you had suddenly forgotten how to function without embarrassing yourself. “Oh. Yeah.. good. I’m good. What are you doing here in—no, don’t answer that. I know why you’re here. God—silly question, that. I’m here to see you again.”

He cracked a cheeky grin, head tilted to the side. “Are ya now?” Noel teased. “Came to see me?”

“Yes. What? No. Not like that.” You sputtered. “I mean your band. Oasis. I didn’t mean that I flew all the way here and stalked every place to find you. That would be clinically insan—”

You clamped your mouth shut upon realising he was peering at the rapid movements of your lips, and the heat crept up quickly onto your cheeks. “Yer mouth always does that?” He asked, humming quietly afterwards.

“Does what?” You returned, voice not even above a mutter. You couldn’t fucking believe it. Sure, you had seen him perform with your own naked eyes more than once throughout the past few months, except it was a completely different matter now that he was right there with you, exchanging conversations.

Noel nodded towards your lips, gazing. “Runs itself?” He said, now leaning against the wall. “What’s it do when yer not speaking out of ya arse or fuckin’ screaming for me then?”

“Oh my god." You whispered shamefully, head dropping to the floor. It was easy to get lost in the moment and forget that your behaviours at the Oasis shows were part of public viewing, especially his. But it wasn’t only that recognition that pushed you down the route of shamefulness, it was the blatant butterflies and throbbing that you experienced in response to his words. The way he had said it. Almost fucking sultry, like he tried to say one thing on the surface yet meant a completely different thing beneath it.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed with a smug expression. “I fuckin’ recognise ya. Always shoutin’ and cryin’. Thought maybe you blew yer throat out cause of it, s’why I haven’t seen ya around since Wembley.”

You just couldn’t wrap your mind around it. How was it that he had taken so much notice towards your presence? “How’d you know that?”

“Been real quiet since ye been gone, love." He stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That it should not be a crime for him to take grave notice of your presence and absence, and to quickly mourn it.

You smiled back sheepishly, from the embarrassment and sheer warmth of being recognised by the man you had idolised and fawned over for years on end. “Well, you’re not the only one who’s been busy." You told him.

“Not busy later, are ya?”

That left you pausing momentarily. “Why?”

He didn’t bother to say anything else. Noel waved down the nearest staff, requesting something that was inaudible to you. The waiter appeared a minute later with a pen and a napkin, and the frontman scribbled words onto them before she could interrupt.

“Here.” He said, folding the written napkin into smaller pages before pressing it into the middle side of your lower stomach. No explanations, no warning, only the breath of a whisper brushing your ear. “Don’t leave me wondering where ye have been again.”

༻✩༺

The napkin contained the name of his hotel and his room number. Next to it, a scribble that stated 11 p.m.

You hadn’t given yourself much time to think about it. If you did, surely all the different scenarios and addiction of overthinking would come dragging you down. And if there’s one thing that you refused to let happen, it was the possibility of missing out on being alone with Noel Gallagher in his hotel fucking room. God. You had no idea what he wanted from you, why you specifically. You were nothing out of the ordinary, and yet somehow before the two of you went your separate ways by the washroom door, he left by placing a gentle and breathtaking squeeze on your hip. Long enough for your knees to wobble at the thought of his hands on you.

Your legs brought you to his room absentmindedly, and probably for the best. Fingers twiddling on the edge of your short dress, lips gnawing at the insides of your cheek. The bell went off once. Then two soft knocks. You didn’t want to come off rude or too overbearing, but hell, you were losing your fucking mind. You knew not what to expect, although you weren’t naive enough to not understand the subtle implications he had given off. It was also likely why you had abandoned your knickers altogether.

The door opened to reveal Noel in clothes you had never seen him in before. Baggy trousers, the kind where the material’s soft and comfortable enough for a lie in bed, a white t-shirt, and his hair… fucking hell, it was sticking in all kinds of directions, as if the concept of a neat hairbrush meant nothing to him.

“Hi.”

He held the door open, eyes flickering up and down your figure, practically leaving you to uneasily shift on both legs. “You wear a dress that short on purpose?”

“Maybe." You said past a feigned confidence. “At least one of us is dressed for the occasion.”

He grinned humorously at that. “Cheeky girl.” Noel responded, ushering you inside before guiding his hand around your waist. Not gripping. Just there. You blinked up at him cluelessly, hand wrapped around his forearm. “Tell me. What d’ya think the occasion is then?”

“You tell me." You returned, taking the time to absorb the sight of the fancy hotel room. His bed already unmade, jeans and a belt thrown over the chair nearby. The room smelled vaguely of his cologne, something you had recognised from earlier that night. “You’re the one who invited me up here. I’m just doing as I’m told.”

You knew in an instant that whatever he had to say next would leave you spiralling for good. And you were right to think so. Weak in the knees. Neck pulsing heavily.

“Yeah?” Noel raised, guiding you by the lower back and further into the room, fingers dipping into the side of your flesh. “S’what all the good girls do, don’t they? Listen.”

The smirk and the knowing tone dripping off his tongue was beyond anything you were able to handle then. Being a fan of the band and his solo work meant that you knew all about Noel’s reputation. Charming. Arrogant. Smug in ways that made women want to touch themselves in respect to unholy thoughts. And the more the two of you spent time in his hotel room - his big thighs pressing against your bare one, knees knocking, his arm thrown absentmindedly behind you… the more it made you regret abandoning your knickers.

Because the dampness was much more unbearable when there was nothing there to soak it up.

You were drenched for what felt like almost two hours. Thighs brushing against your own to soothe the uneasy sensation, and it certainly didn’t help that Noel would begin to allow his fingers to linger on the tip of your shoulder, playing with the thin strap of your dress like he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

But he did nothing more, at least not yet. He asked if you were still studying. What you had graduated in. Your future plans. He wanted to know how long you had been into Oasis for, and how you managed to fund so many dates - even made a harmless joke about you being greedy. It was unlike anything you had imagined. He was gentler in his actions, ultimately further and further away from the grump and arrogance that people made him out to be. He poured you more booze when your glass was nearly empty, tucked your hair behind your shoulder whenever you had laughed so hard, wobbling forward until the rest of your hair covered up the face he so greatly adored. He spoke to you about the reunion, daft little stories from his childhood and the music scene.

He didn’t touch on the matters of his family, and you knew for a fact that it was for the best. Besides, it was only your first proper time together.

The booze began to slightly blur your vision, painting your neck and cheeks with a rosy tint of heat that he had teased you for. Something about being a lightweight, and that he appreciated being around somebody who wasn’t all too familiar with the hedonistic lifestyle.

“I take it I won’t be seeing you again at Wembley?” He asked, drifting away from the previous conversation.

You hummed, playing with the rim of your glass. No longer drinking. You didn’t want to get to a tipping point of being unable to remember the night with ease. “Didn’t get any more tickets for after.”

It was unexpected at first, because yeah, he had stared at you all night long - teased you relentlessly, kept his face close to yours, whispering into your ear and smiling proudly at himself each time he received a sincere laugh out of you. Yeah, he was not entirely fucking subtle. Stared at your mouth more times than you could recall. Your legs. Made various flirty comments. The night was stirring towards a direction that you had long awaited, except you hadn’t expected it to come abruptly. Not in that moment.

A minor gasp choked past your throat when he began to scoop a grip under your bare knees, dragging you closer to his side, legs now dangling over his lap. His expression showed nothing out of the ordinary, no smirk, no playful banter waiting to jump out. Just calm. Relaxed. Comfortable. “Must be gutted not to be able to see me again." He murmured.

You weren't too sure of what to say, and settled with a nod.

“Mhm.” He sounded, swiping his fingers further up along your thigh, sneaking just slightly above the dress. “So fuckin’ am I. Don’t know what I’m gonna do without yer there to shout ya pretty little head off f’me.”

“Plenty of other girls who’d willingly do that for you.” The sound you let out was an utter embarrassment. Breathy. As if you had never been touched in your entire life before.

He shook his head minimally, diving down to press a simple peck on your bare shoulder.. soft in ways one wouldn’t expect from a Gallagher. And you quickly consumed yourself in the darkness, pushing your eyes shut at the mere feeling of his lips, and the fact that it had begun to slowly make its way up your neck, mouth enveloping the core of your throat, breath muttering, “S’not the same.”

“Why not?” You asked, voice betraying how overwhelmed you were with the given proximity. You could practically sense the boyish grin against your skin when you swallowed nervously.

By the time he pulled away, his eyes were blown to the fullest, captivated in the feeling of losing himself in a kind of drug he was entirely familiar with, now failing miserably to resist. “Give us a kiss." He said, pinching your chin with great intention. You obeyed with no second to spare, pressing your lips together and melting instantly into the heated fantasy. Arms sneaking around his neck, Noel supporting the back of your head as he deepened the kiss.. exactly hard enough to prompt a dirty whimper out of you.

He groaned at that, breaking the kiss just to take a good look at how gone you already were. “That’s why. Take a look at that.” Noel started, eyeing the heavy rise of your chest. “Haven’t even put my cock in ya and you’re already losing it.”

“Can you blame me?” You replied, voice small, swallowing.

Noel grinned, once again twiddling onto your dress strap, sharing a silent look of consent. Once you nodded, he pulled them down your shoulders, teasing with purposeful slowness. They began to bundle around your waist - dark bra on display, nipples poking through the laced fabric painfully. He reached behind to unclasp them. Perky breasts now cornered by the cold air, and Noel’s mouth caught yours as soon as another soft whimper echoed around the room.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Noel bit onto your bottom lip, tugging before once again breaking away. He took one breast in his palm, kneading it reverently. Then the other, until both were occupied and distinctly his to adore alone. Your back arched out of instinct at the feeling of his wet, sloppy, and warm mouth enveloping the swell of it whole. “Been thinking ’bout this since that first night in Cardiff… seen you down there screaming f’me all night long. Got me thinking ’bout if you’d be as loud bent over f’me.”

He switched sides, tongue lapping up the other nipple until it left a shiver down your spine. “Yer ever thought ’bout this?” Noel pulled away, eyes locked into yours while the rest of his body gave in to liberty, lightly lifting you by the waist so he could raise the dress to reveal the rest of you for good.

He went still once he had seen it. You had walked into his hotel room with an alluring dress that left nothing to the imagination, and all along.. you were sat there next to him with no fucking knickers on. Cunt already painted with the slight gloss of wet arousal, and he had no clue that you were only one layer away all this time.

“Christ. You’re fuckin’ dirty.” Noel widened both of your legs, mouth parting at the obscene sight of the girl in front of him. Breasts and cunt out, all laid out just for him. “Tell me. What d’ya think of when ye see me up there playing, mhm? Been loud all those while, don’t go fuckin’ silent on me now.”

But it wasn’t easy to string an eloquent sentence when his thumb was now swiping along the stripe of your cunt, spreading your soaked folds and stopping just above your clit - waiting, fucking teasing. Waiting to punish you until you found the function of your mouth and made great use of it. And as soon as you uttered a word, he began circling your clit.

“F–fuck.” You cried, throwing your head back at the sudden pleasure, thighs letting out a shameless tremble. His proud chuckle was heard, accompanied by the continuous encouragement, demanding that you tell him of your wildest dreams. “Just thought of you. Anything—doing anything to me. Touching me like this, just like this, and then… fuck, and then making me gag…”

Noel’s fingers stopped. “On my cock?” He asked in smug disbelief, despite already knowing the answer. “Christ. Want my cock then, don’t you? Mhm? Want it in that mouth of yours? Hitting the back of yer throat till you’re fuckin’ gagging, yeah? S’what you’ve been thinkin’ of when I’m up there playing?”

“Yes… yeah, Noel.” Your body went slack, bucking desperately against his palm for any kind of found pleasure.

But he pulled away, leaving all that desperation lingering around the room, the cold air being the only thing to touch you in places you yearned to be met.

Noel’s muscles were steady and calm. Slow. Grabbing at the waistband of both his trousers and underwear, dragging them down simultaneously to jumble at the ends of his ankles. You had heard stories from the internet before, groupies shared the experience and expressed how he was at sex, that the size of him was more than adequate to keep the rest of you satisfied. You had no idea just how fucking right those reports were. Noel’s cock wasn’t exactly lengthy, but the girth he had forced your tongue into dehydration, for it stood stiff and tall, the tip already leaking with a smear of pre-cum.

He reveled as you took in the sight of him, a hand reaching down to stroke himself lazily, clearly incapable of being left untouched any longer. “C’mere." You heard him say, nodding towards the empty space between his spread legs. “On your knees f’me, baby.”

You scrambled down without hesitation, legs shaking still, knees burning at the friction of the carpet as you dragged yourself toward him, hair falling messily down your face. You didn’t even wait for his grip, for Noel to guide your head to the place he wanted you most. You knew exactly what he wanted, and yourself. Thought about it for longer than he could possibly imagine. You wrapped both hands around him, the warmth clinching at your soul the second he groaned and twitched beneath you. Mouth now opening wide and swallowing him down so fast that he hit the back of your throat, gagging.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He hissed, voice low yet venomous with lust, fist tightening in your hair immediately, jerking your head so you were taking him even deeper than previously. “That’s it. Shit… where’d ya learn to suck cock like that, aye? Jesus… yer like—like you’ve been starving all yer fuckin’ life…”

You could only moan around him, struggling to breathe through your nose, let alone utter a single word. Not that you wanted to, in the first place. God, you wanted to do nor say nothing else now that you were on your knees and at his ultimate mercy, living a sick dream you had prayed for. Your thighs began rubbing together desperately, slick running down your legs, and your nipples painfully poking against the sides of your forearms as you stroked the base of his shaft. You had no idea what you had done to deserve this, but whatever this fucking reward was.. it was enough for your body to betray any restraints, chasing that raw and obscene heat.

He pulled you off momentarily, looking down with wild eyes at the sight of your swollen lips stretched out wide, xatching your breath in sharp inhales, spit stringing glistening ropes from your mouth to his cock each time he shoved himself in and out of you. This time, you took him in again, humming. And that vibration almost buckled his fucking knees. Noel hissed loudly, thrusting further and further with no ounce of care except for the intentions of meeting his pleasure, his hand controlling every desperate bob of your head.

“Fuck. Fuck—yeah, that’s it. Open up f’me, fuckin’ hell!” Noel’s chest heaved with ragged movements, his Mancunian accent now roughened with immense pleasure. Especially more as your hand quickened at his base, pumping in obscene, tight spirals while you swallowed him down, and Noel swore so violently it almost sounded straight out of a raunchy film. His thighs tensed beneath you, the swell of his stomach contracting and knotting tightly. “No girl sucks cock like this… fuck, no fuckin’ one. Can see meself disappearin’ down yer throat. S’what ye fuckin’ think ’bout when I’m up there playing, yeah?”

You whimpered, and then just as he began twitching uncontrollably against the back of your throat, Noel yanked your head back. The sight of you nearly undid him right there and then, the way you blinked with tear brimmed eyes, un half awe, in half feral need. As though you couldn’t comprehend why he had put a stop to it when he was this close to finishing in your mouth.

He took you by the wrist, gently pulling you up to your feet. “Go on then." Noel rasped, one hand now sliding up to your waist, where the rest of your dress remained jumbled. You felt the warmth of his other palm behind your bare thigh, moving you with strong purpose. His cock brushed against your slippery folds, an unholy cry crashing into the room as it did. “Sit on it, love. Show me what else ye thought of.”

Your breath trembled out of your chest as you shifted forward slowly, palms braced on his shoulders, holding his gaze before sinking down with ease, inch by inch, the stretch knocking the air from your tightened lungs. Noel let out a guttural groan, head tipping back against the sofa with a thud. His hands clamped down hard on your hips, holding you there, nudging you closer with every thrust.

“Oh fuck.” He released a ragged sound, eyes squeezing shut at how soaked and warm you were. “Jesus Christ, love. You feel fuckin’ amazing.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Your sweaty thighs pressed against one another, and Noel watched you with pupils blown, drifting between your sweetened face and the filthy display of your perky breasts. His touch traveled reverently over every part of your naked skin - from your shaky legs up to your hips, waist, the dip of your lower back, inner sides of your spine, and all the way up to the nape of your neck. Just resting there, taking you in before you disappeared. Fingers slowly gripping to steady you, just enough so that when he began thrusting for the first time, you stayed perfectly on him with no room to escape.

The sofa creaked beneath your messy rhythm. Your body bounced helplessly against him as he guided every move. He drowned out each of your debauched whimpers, saliva staining both your mouths as Noel deepened the kiss, teeth clashing impatiently. Sweat dampened his fringe, sticking to his forehead, but he didn’t care… christ, he didn’t fuckin’ care at all. He looked up at you with that hungry, half lidded stare that left you undone. The slick sounds of your cunt taking him in with incredible urgency were beyond imaginable. You felt like you were in heaven - and damn it, maybe heaven was just being fucked by none other than the Noel Gallagher.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll fuckin’ cum in you,” Noel warned huskily, voice breaking with sheer intensity. He moved faster, your arse bouncing, the room deafened with the heavy sounds of flesh smacking. You fisted his shirt, desperate, sobbing. “Takin’ me so well, baby. So fuckin’ well. My cock in your cunt, s’how it’s meant to be, eh? No one else gets this.”

Your head fell forward to meet his, arms wrapped around his neck simply because you could no longer handle being fucked this way. You trembled into the nook of his neck, desperate for air, and most of all, still desperate for him. His hands slid lower, spreading across your arse, squeezing harder as he pulled you flush against him with every thrust. Deep until he reached areas no other man had touched before, clit burning against the rough pubic hair he had grown. “Go on, ride me like you fuckin’ mean it. Gonna cum right ’ere on me cock.”

Your body quivered, every thrust dragging you closer to that familiar heat coiling low in your belly, both of you groaning slicker from the arousal dripping out of you. You were slumped against him, moaning and babbling into his ear uncontrollably.

“Noel." You cried, gripping him. “It’s too much… fuck, too much. Feels so good. You’re so—so fuckin’ good.”

Noel felt it, the way you tightened around him, and his grin turned smug, almost victorious. He let out a low, raspy laugh.

“Yeah.. there it is. Gonna come for me, aren’t ya? Fuckin’ told ya. All the good girls listen.” Noel’s groan tore through the room, dropping forward to bite at your shoulder, breath hot and frantic against your skin. His teeth scraped you, prompting a shudder as your hips rolled helplessly now, rhythm messy and desperate. What came next was nothing remotely humane. The distressed clasp on to one another, widened mouths failing to capture the other into a filthy and well needed kiss, hips bucking with a nonsensical synchronisation that appeared more useless than it did useful. Neither of you were practically sat on the couch any longer. You had somehow lifted off the surface completely as Noel slammed further up into your gripping cunt, chasing that orgasm to end both of you.

When it arrived, the arousal choked you into complete slackness. Pulsing around his hardened cock, trembling shamelessly whilst you soaked his thighs and shirt without a single warning.

“Ohhh, that’s it.” Noel moaned, voice heavy with lust, bucking rougher to finish right after you. “Listen to you. Fuck me, wettest thing I’ve ever had.”

You felt it then, the spurt of thick liquid painting your insides, his feral groans bouncing off the walls as he came completely undone. Almost as if not entirely satisfied, Noel reached back to spread your arse, the stretch granting further access into filling you up wholeheartedly.

The rhythm and pace eventually stopped gradually, with only the sounds of your unhinged breathing lightening the room. Other than that, it was quiet. The mess staining between the two of you was the only reminder of what had happened, and somehow a remembrance that neither of you now knew what the future held.

He saw it behind your blinking eyes, and did the one thing he knew to do.. without sentimental verbal affections or immoral emotions to convey to somebody half his bloody age.

Noel simply caught your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing whatever future concerns and doubts running and knocking on every corner of your brain. Because although he had no idea what the future held for either of you, he knew at least one thing:

It wasn’t going to be the last time he saw you again.