JOEY

You'd hardly seen him since what you were beginning to lovingly call, “the accident”, having dubbed it a late night moment of weakness, too much tension, and likely, on his part, too much alcohol leading to each of you attempting to find some peace in each other. It wasnt a situation that you could’ve exactly called peaceful, more like a catfight, or some poetic hate fuck the two protagonists of a movie have just before theyre ripped from eachother for eternity. Okay stop, that wasn't how it went. He just fucked you and left you. 

You guess that was just how Liam lived his life. No biggie. You could hardly judge, sitting here wrapped up in your thoughts all night long, all day never stopping, head whirring when it finally hit the pillow at night. 

As the tour progressed, moving you a week later to Paris. The city of love. Wasn't that ironic? Here you were sitting backstage in the so-called city in which romance was founded, without romance for yourself. Of course you could kid yourself, Valentine's day had come and gone and you'd joked with an awkward edge that photography was your one true love. God, you hated the sound of your own voice sometimes. 

You still saw Liam over that one lonely week in which, within those pitiful seven days, he came and went with the valentines season, gifts of chocolates and cards making their way to the oasis dressing room, you'd photographed them for a laugh. Liam walked past a bunch of flowers with a love letter written from an apparently crazed fan, and kicked them over. But something in the way the petals fell across the dark floor of the backstage area was poetic. Calmed the buzzing in your head more than alcohol could've, and you'd taken your photos and now kept them tucked in the back of some french book one of the roadies bought you for a laugh. 

You could say you were beginning to settle in here, between snaps of photographs, trying not to zoom too far into Liam’s face through the lens where you stood just before the stage, you managed to chat to a few of the crew members. You couldn't say you were exactly part of their world yet, but amongst them you felt more comfortable than you had with anyone in years. Stop. It's never good to get comfortable. You never know what might happen. 

What always kept you on edge, however, was Liam himself. Noel was nice, always stopping to wave hello, waiting with Meg while she complimented the boots you were wearing. To you it felt like meeting with royalty, whenever anybody higher up the oasis food chain would spare you a second of their time. You could say you and Noel were ‘pals’. His brother on the other hand, not so much. 

Why did he waste his time? You found yourself wondering that more and more, trapped in your shitty little hotel room which was always conveniently placed just before the actual bands penthouse floor, having to tune out the relentless partying, drinking, and eventual vomiting sounds which would float down to your room through the vents with a pillow over your head. That was all you got of Liam, other times it would be a brief nod in passing. It was almost like you hadn't completely bared yourself to him not even a week ago. He doesn't think about it that way. Stop it. You're being an idiot. You felt like an idiot the whole time, your cheeks would burn whenever you caught him snapping a picture of him. This was your job for god's sake, and despite him being ‘technically’ your boss, you couldn't see it in him that he'd ever grace you with a direct word, or something other than a sharp glance from across the room. 

— · ✦ · —

People were beginning to sense the tension. 

He and Noel had found their way to another pub, late at night when Meg had turned in with a quiet mumble of “It's late, you lads, enjoy yourselves”. Never a good permissive to give to the Gallagher brothers. 

Liam was bent over what must've been his 4th line of cocaine for the night. It seemed that, as more of the tour went on, and the more divorce papers passed his conscience through lawyers asking, “How much are you planning on splitting, Liam?” and of course the relentless tabloids announcing his plot, then announcing his drunken boisterous behaviour across the headlines, and the latest girl he'd managed to lure from a gig, Liam had begun to turn more to what he knew best, ‘Drink’n’drugs’. Obviously nobody wanted to stop him, but as his older brother, Noel felt he had a duty to try and at least get to the crux of the issue. He couldn't have his band falling apart on what was arguably the most important tour of their career. 

“So what's up the- I'll be with you in a second, love" That was the hooker Noel had kept lined up all night, having had slipped crisp 20 pound notes into her waistband when she passed, racking up such a tab he was practically buzzing with the anticipation of what would happen when she left with him. Meg was an afterthought. Through the haze, through staring at her ass as she walked away fro. him, Noel remembered himself, “So what's up then, R’kid, you've been sulking like a schoolboy on a sunday night” 

Liam rolled his eyes, nose still buried in the crisp white line hed set out for himself, tucking the mirror dutifully into the pocket of his parka as he raised his head, “Fucks that meant to mean mate”. He was already striking up yet another cigarette. 

Noel just shrugged, extending one of his arms across the back of his side of the both, drumming his fingers in a way that told he clearly wanted to seem uninterested with the whole constitution, “I mean” Noel began, reaching over to swipe the cigarette out of Liam’s hands, much to the argument of the younger brother, expertly crushing it out on the table top. No care for the burn mark it left on the wood already stained from the rims of glasses, "You've been in a sulk all weel” 

Liam didn't answer, just sat back like a kid who was being told off, lower lip jutting out childishly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He clearly wasn't all here anymore. But Noel knew now that the only way anybody was getting anything out of Liam anymore. “S’it Patsy?” Noel asked innocently, not like an interrogation, to cool the tension he pushed his newly ordered Guinness Liam’s way as a sort of olive branch. 

“Nah” Liam muttered, quick to pick up the beer and take a long swig, squinting his eyes at the bitter taste, and the thumping music of the bar which was way too loud for a man hosting an eternal hangover, “Fuck that slag, I got enough on my plate” 

Noel just laughs right back at him, sitting back on his own side of the booth as he shrugs, eyes glimmering with something mischievous, “oh yeah? Like that, uh- what's her name- photographer girl?” 

Liam froze like he'd been caught. He didnt quite know what to think through the drug haze, wrinkling his nose as he snapped his head up – how the fuck did Noel know about the two of you? Had you ratted him out – had you really betrayed his trust like that? Fuck he knew it was messy starting something with somebody who wasnt even proper staff but- 

Liam cut off his own rambling with a clench of his jaw, and a quick swig of, what was somehow warm, his beer that Noel had handed him, quickly scrubbing the residue off his lips as he leans forward, “Fuck are you trying to ask me then, mate?” 

Noel held his arms up in mock surrender, surprise flashing across his features as he tried to be pastoral, “woah woah woah man, chill the fuck out” He leant forward one more time, blue eyes narrowing in interrogation as he gestured with his hand, “Youve been in a funk ever since she got here man, is something going on with her?” 

“I think you just need to mind your own fucking business” Liam spat right back, already becoming to defensive but what else could he do? Let his own brother take him for a mug? “Get the fuck outta my shit mate youve got no clue” Liam screwed a finger into the side of his skull, like he was really trying to drive the point home that  Noel should mind his own. But the overreaction was clear to his brother, either there was something going on, or ... Liam had completely lost himself in his own lifestyle. 

Noel just stayed quiet, didn't feel like pushing the narrative even further. His brother's attitude could get quite irritating sometimes, it was too hard for him, let alone anybody to read his crazy antics, best to just leave it. And that's exactly what he did. Just sat there, resting one arm over his side of the booth, turning away just as LIam shrugged himself off with a quiet mutter, something about having to meet a dealer or some shit, no point in listening to him when he was on a mad one. Noel just gestured to the girl he was waiting for, nodding towards the booth as Liam skulked off. 

And as the girl made her way over, Liam passed her with a harsh shoulder check. He was too far gone in his fuming to even notice the daggers she sent his way. No, he had way too much to think about to bother himself with some bird showing him the stink eye. Liam just continued on, a sick pit in his stomach forming at the entire constitution, barging through sweaty bodies dancing with each other like Liam’s own life wasn't falling apart. 

A dependency on drugs, alcohol, and the throes of having to go through a divorce at the ripe age of 25 clearly didn't matter. 

Not when you were the only thing going through his head. The little fucking weirdo, as he decided to call you in his own mind, who sat in the corner like some obsessive thing over analysing snaps of half open guitar cases. The girl who he left half shagged in an alleyway behind some dingy hotel with money thrown her way like some cheap whore. 

He finally felt called out. He felt like an arsehole for ignoring you the whole week. Noel, for all his flaws in Liam’s eyes, had finally given him some food for thought. Were you the reason for this slump he found himself in? Far from it. 

But as the cold night came, wait what city were they in again? Liam didn't even know at this point, but as the chill settled in his bones, the only warmth coming from the end of the cigarette he'd just stood up as he waited for whatever cab might pass his way, he decided to think. About anything, about life. Whatever mushy shit he could say in a moment of self reflection years later. It didn't matter. 

Because what he actually was thinking about, was you. 

— · ✦ · —

The atmosphere backstage after a full blown gig was something that couldn't be matched. Not by drugs, not by sex. Nah, nothing even came close to it. You loved it, especially tonight when everything had gone to order – the band had been in good spirits, even Liam hadn't shot you a look when he passed you, just kept his head down as he passed, whilst half arguing with a stage hand about how close he was cutting it to opening time. The air felt completely electric, the whining sounds of a dying guitar still ripping through the speakers, the crowd still rolling with an excitement which felt like you could reach out and touch it. 

Brilliant. Amazing. Electric. 

Backstage was absolutely buzzing, Oasis had shunted off the stage with a cacophony of hoots and shouts that sounded more animal than anything else. But even you had to crack a smile, weaving about with your camera. This was exactly the atmosphere in which you thrived, camera thumping against your chest, weaving through roadies shuffling to pack up equipment, almost getting knocked by Bonehead who was currently being chased by Guigsy on their voyage to go seek out the beer stash which had been dutifully provided for them. You snapped a picture of that moment, raw, unfiltered, not even bothering to focus the lens properly. Yeah. This was a moment just for you. You found your mind quietening, none of the usual barrage of worries, not even caring as a journalist approached with a quiet, “Excuse me, miss”, not retreating like you usually would. Just enjoying the moment, allowing yourself to be caught up in it all, fingers not even brushing across the dials as you spoke to the nice man, free of fidgeting. Head quiet. 

The only person you hadn't taken a picture of tonight, however, was Liam. And he'd noticed. He noticed you coming more out of your shell the more you'd been here. It's not like he didn't like it, he claimed in himself that he didn't even feel a flicker of emotion towards you. But he watched. You looked tonight like you were simply the designated photographer of a group of friends, you'd taken pictures of them on stage, of course, like was your contract. However you'd been less obsessive about capturing the finer details, he noticed you focused more on capturing the happy moments, people together, celebrating, candids of specific people in the crowd because of course he found himself unable to take his eyes off you even when performing for what must've been a crowd of over 40,000. 

And now he watched you talking to the reporter. And something funny stirred in his gut. Not jealousy, as if he'd ever be jealous of a bird he'd half shagged once and didn't even look in her direction again. But he didn't like the way he felt. Not one bit. 

He wanted to say something to you tonight, admittedly, he felt like the tables had been turned. As you grew slightly more confident in yourself, he found himself retreating, quieter, smaller. The thoughts in his own mind are not even quietening with the assistance of alcohol. And as he sat here on a crate in the corner like some pathetic little recluse, he only managed to drag his eyes away from your frame loitering in the corner, to roll his own joint. 

The minutes felt like hours as he sat there, thinking. He thinks, with great consideration, that tonight was the first time he'd equipped full use of his brain, the thoughts only stopping now, as some roadie sat next to him. A cold beer offered towards him, these people knew him, of course. 

But why did he feel bitter? He looked towards the guy. Dave? Dom? Dale? He couldn't even remember his name as he turned to him with a sharp nod, hardly taking his eyes off the rolling paper as he danced it between his fingers. All he felt was annoyed as he felt a jab to his ribs, clearly, Darragh was gonna say something to him. Fuck this – he hated this shit. But he just couldn't be arsed pushing back. Raising his head. 

You were gone. He couldn't find you. Until Darren pointed you out. 

“Thought she'd be trailing after you, like” Drew laughed, far too close to his ear for comfort. Liam could hardly hear him as he let his eyes focus further into the darkness. There you were. The real you. Sat in the corner staring down at the camera, legs crossed at the ankles like you were trying to make yourself smaller. Something sick in Liam spoke to him, he liked seeing you this way. Yeah, he guesses it's weird, getting off on seeing some girl he arguably couldn't care less about, acting like a social outclass. But it was normal. It was what he'd gotten used to. 

The truth was, he was there when you weren't looking. Not like a stalker, he just began to grow more perceptive around you. The stubborn part of him told himself he didn't need to talk to you, had to keep an eye out in case you were in trouble. He'd gotten to know you quietly, none of the teasing, none of the mean digs he'd occasionally slipped into the conversation – no, it was all free of that. Sure he felt like a weirdo for it, but seeing you turn your cheek to stare down into the camera like it held the answers to all the thoughts buzzing around your pretty little head, having looked away just in time for Liam to have his turn. He doesn't know, but something in seeing you this way made something loosen a little in his chest. 

Crack. The beer opened before he could talk. Almost like he needed it to. Kept like a well oiled engine, he would always say. 

He just shrugged, not sparing Dylan a second glance as he muttered into the can. 

“She’s got better things to do, don't she” 

— · ✦ · —

Something strange had settled in your tummy when you finally got back to the hotel. Something that set you on edge – you couldn't quite put your finger on it, was it the way L- dont. Stop. Don't say his name. Don't think of his name. Your head thudded against the window of the tour bus, the driver, to a chorus of jeers, had taken a very sharp turn into the parking lot. Animals. Your head throbbed. 

It felt like a very different throbbing to the one I felt the morning after a fun night out drinking. You almost stumbled off the bus, facing a very near face plant which was dutifully saved by Noel grabbing your bag of equipment and holding on for dear life. Your head was aching now. You, once again, almost slipped and fell over in a puddle. The pain bloomed through to your forehead, spreading across in a very near migraine pain, it was impossible to focus. You couldn't focus as you walked through the hotel doors. Your head felt like it was splitting. Your shoulder propping up your bag felt like it was splitting as Liam – wait, Liam? 

Stop. Ignore him. Don't look at him with that big smile on his face, dont dont dont. 

You blinked and you were alone. How did you even end up here? You found yourself in some sort of conference room, one long table with 18, 19, 20 chairs dotted around the outside, a whiteboard with a half erased thought scrawled across it. Your mind felt quieter here, free from the throbbing pain you didn't connect was linked to the proximity and volume of your ‘colleagues’. What’s wrong with you? 

Your memory restored itself as you padded around the table, choosing the perfect one to sit yourself in. Brief flashes of everyone arriving back late, the screeching noise of the guitar’s dying whine as the concert ended, the bustling of you being forced through the hotel’s doors as Oasis themselves sleuthed off towards the bar, followed by a gaggle of groupies and girlfriends, the others on the road crew making their way to the rooms. 

You could use this silence. You didn't get much of it. You may not quite know what's going wrong with your mind lately, you'd chalk it up to the new environment, but really it’d always been this way. Always thinking, never stopping. Maybe that's why you related to Liam so much, despite his obvious coldness. You saw it, in a way maybe most didn't, the way he turned to alcohol and drugs so much more recently, was he trying to carry his mind too. Don't. Stop. Don't think about it. 

You'd done it again, you hadn't even noticed the camera held lazily in front of your eyes, scrolling through pictures of the before set up of the gig, the happy crowd singing their hearts out, Liam and Noel strutting across the stage like peacocks. You blinked and you were back in the room, your mind having gone elsewhere again. It was unsettling, but what could you do? 

You decided to use the time to yourself to sort through negatives, mind quietening as you felt the familiar weight of the camera, keeping yourself comfortable reclined back in the office chair as you quietly sorted through the pictures, deleting the unflattering ones, making a mental note to send some to the press, or publishers, whoever. This was where you loved your job, the quiet in which you could work and let your head settle just for a moment. 

But it didn't last for long. 

You came across a picture of Liam. It caught your eye immediately, not because it was him, you'd never admit that to yourself, you didn't like what it might make you feel if you did. You just propped an elbow on the table, leaning forwards so you could see the photo in more depth, eyes straining down at the tiny polaroid: Noel thought it was good to have a little mixed media, the iconic formatting of the polaroid was something you were familiar with, comfortable. He wasn't on stage, wasn't shouting like he usually does. It wasn't even a picture anyone would choose, a ‘normal’ photographer would cast this to the side, not enough drama, not even a flattering angle. 

It was a quiet one. His eyes closed, the edges of his eyes screwed up like he was nervous. Alone for a few seconds just before walking out in front of thousands of people who adored him. You found through your photography you were able to make him look the way nobody saw him, almost ... vulnerable. He didn't like that, he made that clear last time you'd taken a similar picture, which is what left you in this weird purgatory where you didn't know if he wanted you or hated you. 

He looked oddly beautiful. The lighting casting across his face made him look almost ... angelic. 

You turned without even really thinking about it, for the first time you didn't psychoanalyse every movement you made. You picked up the bag from the floor, setting it on your lap as you dug around the bottom for a pen, flipping the photo as you leant over it. Your hair caught you in. Letting you have this photo. 

And for the first time since you'd taken the assignment, since turning your life upside down to come here and, admittedly, be treated like shit by Oasis’ frontman, you took a photo for yourself, writing a reminder on the back before slipping it into your bag. 

“The only time he forgot anyone was watching” 

You stayed like that for a while, safe in the knowledge you would likely be undisturbed by any members of your cohort, scribbling in a little pad the ones you allocated to a very basic yes and no pile, pleased with your work as you sat back. You let your eyes rest as you tipped your head back against the back of the chair, camera now resting in your lap. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

You groaned internally, the anxiety rushing back into your gut as you collected yourself, blinking away the sleep that was threatening at your eyes as you sat up, shaky hands flying out to shove everything back into your bag. “Sorry - I’ll be out in a minute!” Surely, it must just be hotel staff. 

Nope. 

The door cracked open ever so slightly as you fumbled with a mess of polaroids, dropping some to the floor in your haste with a slight curse, ducking under the table – half to easily pick up the pictures, half to hide the flush of embarrassment raising on your cheeks as you shoved them haphazardly into anywhere you could reach. 

“You alright?” The voice came soft. It was too soft to be coming from the person who you instantly knew owned it. With yet another internal groan, you half wanted to screw your eyes shut but forced yourself up. Don't. Say. Anything. 

Liam stood there with his hands in his pockets, shoved them so deep inside of his parka like he was trying to hold himself together. He had that same vulnerable look on his face, the one you saw so often in your own photography that it felt so familiar to you. His blue eyes tracked you as you raised to stand with an awkward little cough, not quite knowing where to put yourself. DONT. SAY. ANYTHING. The loudness was back, your head sounded like a complete freight train. You stood there, staring at each other for a moment, his face flushed from the heat of too much alcohol, yours from embarrassment and finally being faced with the man you had half a mind to declare your enemy.  

A standoff. 

Except this wasn't a western film, this was reality. And you weren't a cowboy, you were just some scared 20 something year old that was trying to put too much of a face on, you couldn't keep it up, your eyes flickering to the office carpeted floor, trying to hold your ground. 

It didn't work so well when you heard the crack in his voice. 

“Uh, Noel’s complaining you nicked all today’s photos” 

Your eyes snapped up to his, brow furrowing as you moved to cross your arms, staring up at the man standing in the doorway offering you humour in the place of an apology. 

“I took them” You challenged him right back, your stomach twisting with something sour as Liam’s own eyes flickered away from yours with a quiet mutter, “Same thing”. You had to fight the smile off your face. You were angry, remember? You should be angry. Should be should be should be. Here he was after days of completely blanking you, trying to have a laugh with you? Don't think about it. 

You swallowed, firm, shifting your weight as an awkward silence settled across the room, Liam was half in, half out – seemed like this was the way he preferred things. But instead of annoying you it made you feel like you wanted to open the room to him, wanted to let him into you, wanted to hug him, shout at him, hit him, fuck him, love him- 

“I’m sorry” The words came quietly, his thick Manchester accent sounding softer than ever as you raised your eyes to meet him. He’d fully shut the door now, hand still resting on the handle, thumb stroking the cool metal like he needed something to ground himself. His eyes bore into yours, soft with the hope that you understood the depth behind your words. You just turned the camera over in your hands, something so beautiful a twisted reminder of something shameful now you were standing in front of the man who was the reason you had this brand new shiny camera. 

You didn't look back up, not even when his footsteps padded so softly across the carpeted floor. You wanted to screw your eyes shut, wanted to scream, wanted to run. But something about the warmth of him in front of you, the obsessive scent of him – cologne and cigarettes, it all pinned you to the spot. You clenched your jaw as a hand made its way to your jaw, forcing your head up to meet his eyes.  

And then, a kiss. Not on your lips, not on your cheek. Your forehead. You felt his jaw was clenched in the same way yours was, your own resolve almost crumbling at the soft contact. Liam Gallagher was singlehandedly the most bipolar person you'd ever met. But you still couldn't get enough. The horrible realisation washing over you as your shoulders relaxed at such familiar contact in a room, hotel, city, tour not even built for you, the realisation that you needed this. Ever since he left you still trembling from your orgasm on the cold floor a week ago. 

“I’m sorry” He breathed against your hairline, hands coming to cup your shoulders and slide them down to your hands, thick fingers – warm and calloused, wrapping around yours like an embrace as he brought them to his chest, ducking his head to meet your eyes once again, “I was a prick, shouldn't've behaved like that.” 

“Was proper minging of me” 

You let out a huff, despite yourself – you wanted to stand your ground. Wanted to reject him, but your mouth moved before your mind could, “Minging?” 

“Y’know, grotty – slutty, whatever sounds better to you babe” 

You let out a quiet sigh, eyelids fluttering as your stomach pulsed in nausea once more at the nickname, nausea wrapped in sick delight at the nickname. You pulled yourself away before you could go too far within the softness, leaning your hip against the table edge as you looked up at him properly. He stood there like he didn't quite know where to go, like that was your silent word of rejection and he'd just made a fool out of himself. Carry on. CARRY ON. 

But you couldnt. “Dont let it happen again” You mumbled, quiet disappointment settling in your shoulders as you swallowed, “Seriously Liam” Your voice was shaky, smaller than you wanted it. You should've been here shouting at him – I mean, it was a conference room for gods sake, this was where people hashed out the big things, sure it wasn't that serious, this wasn't a business meeting. Maybe you were deepening it too much, i mean hes probably only apologising so he can get in your pants agai- 

“I don't want it to” A quiet admission spoken from the usually harsh Manc in front of you. It almost took your breath away as you blinked away your surprise. Staring at him for a moment. 

“Good” 

Well, that was unsuccessful. This hadn't gone nearly how you wanted it to in your head but, then again, at least you were getting somewhere. He’d apologized, that's all that mattered, right? Your mind was at war in itself again, all you could do is watch as a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth, he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding as his shaggy hair bounced around his face, and- 

“So, any big plans tonight?” And there it was. Like nothing had ever happened. You let out a nervous sigh, half caught between a giggle and a groan as you turned to pick up your bag, slinging it over one shoulder. Before it was gone. Now slung across Liam’s. Who now had a hand raised up to you. 

Were you in a fucking dream? 

Today felt rushed in a way you hated, your own mind running rampage you hardly felt like you'd been here all day. And it had led you to be here, in a dingy little conference room where the AC hummed too loudly above the half erased whiteboard, Liam holding a hand out for you. What the fuck. You tried to blink, tried to wake up as you looked around at the office furniture, heart beating, beating, beating. 

“I’m not gonna bite you, darlin’” A beat, “Come to the pub with me” 

Flashes of red cross your eyes. RED. RED. RED.  

There it was, you're out. You're away from the harsh feelings ramming against each other in your mind, your body, making your legs shaky as you try to catch yourself on the edge of the table, trying to pass it off as a nonchalant lean.  

“Sorry, I need to go to the darkroom, y’know” You muttered, turning to grab the coat you'd been using as a cushion, already slipping around him to head for the door. 

“Lead the way” 

And for some reason, you did. 

— · ✦ · —

Music from the quiet radio at the front desk of the rent out darkroom trickled in through the thin walls as you pushed the rented space open with your shoulders, balancing trays and film canisters shakily as you pushed your way in. The red safelight hummed soft and low as you entered a space so familiar to you by now. This was the beauty of photography, being able to find a developing studio anywhere in the world and it be exactly the same, the same routine, same chemicals, same process. It was one of the most calming things in the world. 

The door, despite having opened so softly, almost slammed shut behind Liam, muffling the delicate tune you'd already accustomed yourself to. You just laughed softly, a shy, awkward little sound as you nodded, “Graceful” 

“That's my middle name,” Liam replied dutifully. On the walk over you'd managed to make friends with each other again, largely from Liam taking the piss out of Noel - “How can someone so little have such a big head”. That was the first time you'd genuinely laughed today, it wasn't even funny, but something about the way he said it tickled something in you to start breaking down the awkward shell you'd put up in your own defence, quipping right back at him with a, “Well, you are brothers...” A beat, “He probably gets it from you” 

“Eh, you think youre a funny little fucker, dont you” 

And now you are back here in this space. It didn't feel claustrophobic right now, still a small space like the conference room but lighter, built on the shaky, unsaid agreement that you were friends now. That maybe, everything else could be put into the past. His moods, his hesitation. It all felt dulled in the familiar darkroom, the air carrying the scent of developer and fixer, water trickling steadily into the sink as you set your equipment down, the old radio in the corner Liam had immediately made a beeline to now playing the soft haunting songs of the 80s, probably a CD from the last time anybody stocked the music library in this place. 

“Y’know,” Liam said as he handed you the bag, shrugging off his parka to reveal the last thing you expected – a Beatles shirt. You didn't comment, just waiting as you held the bag which now, surprisingly, felt lighter without the weight of your upset, “It’s a bit creepy in here” 

“Only if you don't know what you're looking at”. That took Liam by immense surprise, shaking his head with a quiet little, “daft”, a smile tugging at your own lips as you moved through the studio, collecting all your tools. 

The method was simple, another aid to quietening your ever moving mind as you collected a handful of bottles, lugging all your stuff over. And there it starts. 

Loading the film. Developing the negatives. 

Liam, as usual, had a lot to say about that. He’d moved from his space across the room, walking slow, unrushed, towards you where you worked at the lightproof, pressing himself against your back. Innocent in his purpose. He just began reaching over your shoulder, picking up each bottle as you set it down, humming into your ear, “...Developer” He said with true intrigue, you just laughed, “Surely I don't have to tell you what that one does” 

“Dont be a smartarse” He mutteres. His hand made its way to your hip. You didn't say anything. But in the dark, in the red, in the quiet. It felt a lot more electric than it should've. Neither of you said anything. But neither of you moved. 

He continued his research, picking up a bottle, squinting in the darkness as he read, “Fixer...” You felt him shift behind you as he brought it to his nose, wrinkling it as he muttered, “smells rank” 

“Well you dont exactly smell like roses yourself do you”, And he laughed at that. You felt an odd sense of pride in yourself, hands shaking with the excitement as his right one made its way back down to your hip, resting his head on your shoulder as he watched you move to place the reel of film into the water, “Bit rude” He mumbled, pinching your hip gently, chuckling when you let out a surprised yelp. 

Anybody who walked in right now would think this was a romantic little moment, a couple developing the photos they took together around Paris.  

This was the furthest thing from it. But God, after the week you'd had, and after the beers he'd had, you both maybe... 

...Just wanted to pretend. 

Liam’s hand slid up to your ribcage, resting itself there as he leant his temple against your jaw, watching with widening eyes as the photo of Noel brandishing a guitar faded into existence, standing himself up fully with an exclamation, “Woah!” 

You half turned towards him. He was so close. So close that if either of you moved your lips would lock and- “What?” You stopped your thoughts in their tracks with perfect concealment, jaw ticking as you tried not to look at his lips shadowed by the dark and illuminated by the harsh red lighting. Liam wasn't so polite. His eyes darted to your lips for a second, before dragging them up to yours, “Hows it doing that” 

His hand was extended towards the now developing group of pictures, index pointed towards a new one, one of Liam with his hands clasped behind his back, singing into the mic like it owed him money. 

“Magic” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, every now and again moving his head around yours to catch a glimpse at all of the pictures suddenly popping into existence. His jaw now rested against your temple. His front pressed against your back. His larger hand just next to yours resting on the edge of the tank. You could say you were grateful for the loss of contact on your ribs. But some sick little part of you wanted that contact back 

He was quiet then. Didn't say anything as you moved out of his arbitrarily to hang another strip of negatives out to dry, absent mindedly watching your hands. 

Not in a romantic way, no. He could never be that sappy. 

But as he stood there, in a space that you commanded like it was entirely yours, he noticed something. You were completely different from everyone he'd been around on this entire tour. Everyone backstage wanted something. 

An interview. A quote. A signature. 

You hadn't asked him for a single thing. He didn't want to address the way that made him feel, something funny settling in his gut he tried to push down by picking up the beer bottle he'd somehow smuggled in undetected. 

You found yourself noticing things about him. Catching stupid little details like the nicotine stains on his fingers as they wrapped completely around the bottle, the way his fingers drummed against the sideboard, already thinking up his next tune by playing the furniture without realising. 

Stop paying attention. 

You're in too deep. 

Too deep. 

You sat there in silence with him for a while as you both watched the rest of the developing photos swim about in the developer like little boats on the ocean. You kept your eyes on the tank. He kept his eyes on you the whole time. 

And the blissful silence was broken once again. 

“Right, up you get”. Your brows furrowed, stopping your absentminded half spins in the rolly chair as you looked up at him, looming above you in the darkness as you softly spoke up, “Why?” 

Liam just grinned, holding his hand out to you once more. You took it this time, letting him drag you up in the dreamlike haze you’d managed to craft for yourselves. He pulled you towards him, you followed, letting him take you around the room to where your camera lay stationary. You stopped there with him, your hand still caught in his like neither of you wanted to let go, or maybe you were both just the right amount of stubborn to want to challenge the other to let go first. Your shoulder rested against his chest, and you looked up at him expectantly. “It's my camera” You deadpanned with a sense of mock surprise, he scowled and barged you with his shoulder, tugging you back at him with a laugh as you stumbled away from him. 

“Right you are darlin’” A beat, “Snap a pic of us” 

That was even weirder than anything that had gone down in this room tonight. You picked up the camera, turning the familiar rectangle in your hands as you looked back up at him, “You want me to take a picture of you?” You said softly, stepping out of his watchful gaze to peer down at the settings in a moment of feigned interest. “Us” He corrected, following you immediately. Like magnets. 

“And why do you want a picture of us” You couldn't help the skepticism that was now colouring your tone as you raised the camera, as if trying to non-verbally drive the point home that he was being ridiculous. You felt his hand on the small of your back. You couldn't breathe. You can't breathe. 

“Just think we look good together sweetheart” the way he said it in that ever so teasing manner of his made your heart beat faster, swallowing down the nerves with a roll of your eyes as you let him tug you back towards the light tank. And you resumed your positions. 

You, in front, him pressing into you from behind, walking you until your hips hit the side of the tank, completely boxing you in against him as he reached around your shoulders, taking the camera from you as he rested his elbows where joints connected shoulders and arms, leaning his cheek against your temple. He was warm. He smelled so good. All you wanted to do now was turn around and- 

The rumble of his voice in his chest felt calming, yet the proximity set you on edge as he ducked his head, turning the camera around so it was facing the two of you, whispering in your ear as his fingers danced along the top of the camera now glinting off red and black and the reflection of the two of you pressed far too close together in this cramped space, “G’on, teach me” You obliged immediately, shaking hands coming up to adjust his fingers as you muttered, "That's how you take a photo, just click right there” 

You could feel his breathing growing heavier as his hands fumbled with the buttons on top, knocking his head against yours a little harder as he took one hand down to grip your hip, pressing his lips against your temple as he whispered, “Smile” His breath was hot against your skin, causing a shiver to be sent through your spine as you leant back into him, eyes transfixed on the camera s you offered it a shy little smile, hand clasping itself over Liam’s where it lay squeezing your hip.

Flash.

The sound of the shutter was loud against the tense silence, the flash blinding you for a second and transporting you both in this moment yet far away at the same time. He laughed from behind, you jumped a little anxiously, his hand moved to your ribs to rub little circles with his thumb, “You’ll just do anything I say, won't ya?”

You can't breathe. Stop. No. Keep going. You swallowed like you both needed this and wanted to be far away from it, your mind at war once again as you tried to open your eyes. He kisses your temple. What is he doing? The moment felt too hot, too close, you felt him too entirely against your back in the cramped red space. You could practically feel the smirk he had on his face as he pushed you further against the tank, holding the camera down lower, urging you to grab it, “Develop it” He said it so quietly you couldn't help but comply, shaky hands now struggling with the latch, taking the film out of the camera as you restarted the process.

His hand made its way around to your stomach.

“You look pretty doing this, y'know that?” He muttered against your hair. You felt him inhale the scent of you as you let out a shaky sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you muttered a shy, “Liam”

“No, g’on” He muttered, big hands taking yours as his thumbs pressed into the backs of your palms, moving your hands for you to bring them towards the film, “Take it out”

You tried to turn to face him. One hand left yours to grip your chin from behind, turning your face back to the task at hand, “Not me, the pictures love” His voice was rough, gravelly, it sent another shock down your spine, your heartbeat quickening as you looked down, still one of his hands cupped yours as you worked, taking the film out. Sorting it. Placing it in the liquid. “Mm” He nodded in approval, removing his hands as he brought them back to your ribcage, thumbs brushing just under your breasts as he pushed you even further, half bending you over the tank as you moved the film about, “I was right”

You didn't even want to ask. But the way he was pressing against you right now, the way you could feel him standing there half hard, made you need to, “A-about what”

“You are just a good little thing, do anything I say” He said it like he was telling you the weather, you sighed softly, hands coming up to grab at the sides of the tank as you bowed your head again, staring down into the red water.

You both stayed quiet for a moment. His hands slid down your ribs to your lower belly, grabbing, pulling you closer into him as he bent you further, causing you to scramble and find purchase with your hands grasping the edge of the tank once more, “Pretty” He mumbled again, knocking his head against the space between your shoulder blades, “So fucking pretty” He slurred softly, half drunk off the moment and the beer he downed earlier as he pressed a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, lips searing rhe skin of your back as you let out a soft little gasp.

“Didnt take my time with you last time, huh sweetheart?” He whispered, his knees bending slightly as he trailed a hot path of kisses down your spine through the fabric of your shirt. Your face burned a bright red which was thankfully concealed by the dim lighting in the cramped studio. You didn't know what to do, didn't know what to think. The man who had ignored you for the past week, the man who'd just spent tonight pretending like that never happened, was now kissing all the way down your spine, was pressed half hard against your ass not even five minutes ago. Your mind was spinning. “L-Lia-” Your breathy words were cut off by a yelp as his teeth nipped at your hip where skin was exposed by the cut of your shirt, a stern, “Did I, sweetheart?” Coming from below you.

“No, no you, uh, you didn't" You tried to crane your head around again, trying to catch some glimpse of him below you to make sense of the situation. But his hand pushed against your lower back once more as his lips reached the same spot, kissing along the waistband of your jeans as he knelt fully on the floor, "Don't look at me, baby” He whispered against your skin, hand sliding down, around your ass, to the inside of your left thigh, “Want me to make it up to you?”

Your head was spinning. His hand pushed your thighs apart, situating himself properly between your legs. You felt him shift, hands pushing at the front of your thighs so he could sit himself between you and the tank, looking up at you expectantly with his big blue eyes, tongue flicking out to lick his lips, shaking his head up at you when you tried to look down at him, “Eyes on the picture” He muttered softly, hands smoothing up and down the front or your legs as you brought your gaze back to the picture slowly developing. You felt him kiss your knees, causing them to buckle ever so slightly. He just chuckled. Soft. low. Warm. Look at him. Don't look. Look away. Look anywhere else. Look. look. No. Stop.

“Havent answered me yet, darlin’” His hands curled in the waistband of your jeans, thumbs brushing just over the button as he tugged you closer, smiling at the pained expression on your face as he reminded you, “Words, love”

“Y-yeah” you breathed, he hummed slightly, letting his hands drop from your jeans, pushing you away with his hands on your knees. You stole a glance at him then, sat there with a shit eating grin. Your blood ran cold, was this a set up? Something he could doctor just to embarrass you? Seeing you all needy and wanting… Was this part of your sick fantasy? Your mind rushed, face blushed as you blinked down at him, “What?” You sounded so small. And Liam fucking loved it.

“Take your pants off”

You blinked, looking down at your jeans then back up to him as if you couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, which, he obviously addressed, planting his hands either side of himself on the concrete floor as he tilted his head, “Said you wanted it, I wanna see a little show”

“Was too dark to see you properly last time”

You swallowed, blinking as you walked backwards until your back hit the wall, still too close for comfort, you felt like you couldn't breathe, the hot red lamps hanging above you radiating warmth which served to further make you sweat under his steely gaze. “Wasnt sure you wanted to see me properly last time, Liam”

He chuckled at that, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he nodded his chin at you, “Put on a show for me, darlin’”

Maybe it was the look in his eyes, maybe it was the casual way he could dominate you from his position on the floor. Who knows. Definitely not you. But it was something in the way he looked, the way he acted, that made you obey almost immediately. Your hands are slotting into the sides of your jeans, awkwardly sliding around to undo the button. Liam’s head bowed slightly, eyes focusing on your fingers slowly undoing the zipper, looking away in embarrassment as his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

“Eyes on me”

He wasn't even looking at your face when your gaze eventually fell back to him. With a shaky sigh you hooked your thumbs back into your jeans, slowly tugging them down your thighs. Past your knees. Pool them by your ankles. You heard him hum appreciatively, a hand coming up to beckon you forward, eyes now focusing on the thin lace covering your arousal from him, his chest rising and falling between that stupid beatles t-shirt like he was having as much trouble holding himself back as you were.”Not got all day beautiful” You paused for a moment, looking down at him as he had that silly crooked smile making its way across his face. You couldn't help but smile back as you kicked your jeans to the side, walking on shaky legs towards him.

What were you doing?

You stood in front of him, almost completely bare from the waist down, his hands burning the backs of your knees as he tugged you towards him.

“Here’s how this is gonna go” You could feel the heat of his breath billowing against your panties, hands sliding up to the fat of your ass to pull your core even closer to his face, the pad of his thumb tucking itself just into your slit, panties already damp with arousal causing him to coo, “Aww, y’wet just from hanging out with me?” He distracted himself by leaning up to press a kiss to your buzzing clit through your panties, revelling in the soft little sigh that gasped from your lips as you clung to the edge of the tank, “S’okay baby I know, left you high and dry last time” He muttered against your clit, tongue rolling out to press softly against your panty clad clit, tilting his head so his nose nudged against the tiny bundle of nerves. 

And then he sniffed.

You let out the most embarrassing squeak ever, jolting, accidentally pressing your hips further into his face as he laughed, the slight moment of friction causing you to let out a breathy moan, “Dont- Don't do that” You mumbles, hands flying up to cover your face. He cooed gently, pressing his nose harder into your clit, “Sorry, angel” He whispered, patting the side of your thigh, “Pass me my beer, yeah?”

You could hardly think straight, body on autopilot as you tried to ignore his soft tongue rolling against your clit, it seemed like he'd forgotten entirely that he asked you to do a favour for him, arms bracketing your legs as he pulled you closer towards him, making out with your clit through already soaked panties. You focused, or, at least tried to, biting your lips to keep away the moans threatening to bubble up out of your lips, clamping a hand over your mouth as you reached around blindly for the bottle just behind you.

Liam looked back up at you with a smirk, pulling back away from his lapping at your clothed cunt to smirk up at you, nodding his chin towards you, “Take a swig, love”. Your mind felt fucked already, so confused by whatever the fuck has happened over the last hour, shaily bringing the beer to your lips as you took a gulp. He smirked again, “So fucking easy” He muttered, thumbs hooking in your panties as he tugged them down to expose your dripping cunt.

“God” He whispered, thumbs moving to part your folds crudely as he blew a little puff of air against your too sensitive clit, causing you to whimper, knuckles turning white around the beer bottle as the other flew to his hair, “Pl-please, Liam”

“Please what?” He spoke softly, “Do this?” 

And as he leant in, he licked a long, languide stripe up your cunt, smacking his lips as he pulled away with a satisfied hum, “Go on tug harder” He urged, eyes glazed over as he reached for his beer, finger hooking around your hand to bring it down into his hair, “Fuckin’ hurt me” he groaned as your hand made its way into his hair, both sets of knuckles flushing white as you curled your fingers in the shaggy brown mess. His eyes rolled back when you tugged slightly, overcome with a sudden need to both do what he said, but also enact your own anger for his coldness over the past week.

This felt dirty. Grimy. Raw like your photography as you found yourself in this mess, flushed and wanting yet still so angry. You didn't know what to do with yourself. Where could you even file this away in your mind? Would this continue? Did he want this like you did? Liam Liam Liam LIAM LIAM.

“Fuck - right” He muttered, letting out a sharp groan as you tugged at his scalp, “Wa-ah- want you to listen to me, y’can do that, yeah?” He whispered, breath hot against your bare cunt poised just above his face. “Y-yeah” You whispered. Fuck. This was even better than the alley. Would you have believed it if somebody told you before signing the contract that becoming a photographer with Oasis would lead to such obsession, to such sinful episodes in compromising places with Liam Gallagher. He couldn't even acknowledge your existence half the time yet here you were about to-

“M’gna eat this cunt” He panted, basically slobbering as he stared up at your wet cunt, licking his lips as he adjusted himself to be closer to you, wanting. Needy. You thought that by now, you'd figured him out, seen every side of him. You thought the cold, desperate fuck behind the bins in the alley next to the hotel had been so quintessentially him. You couldn't even begin to question the change. Didn't have time to as he continued his filthy talk, “And m’ not stopping until that photos developed, got it?” His eyes met yours, a silent plea for your admission as he tugged you closer to him, lips ghosting your folds so softly it made you sigh out something sweet and sinful wrapped in one, “Yeah?” He whispered when a whimper eventually tumbled from your lips, watching as you nodded with urgent desperation.

He bent his head, eyes fluttering shut. You never realised how pretty his lashes were, dark fans against pale Irish skin. You wanted to study them up close, photograph them, watch the way his pink lips wrapped around the cold beer bottle as he drank a little, setting it to the side.

Before he spat it on your cunt. 

His tongue followed with desperate fervor as his hands wrapped around your ass to tug you down fully against his mouth, a sharp moan falling from your lips as you all but collapsed against the tank, legs threatening to buckle from the sudden filthy pleasure as he chased the taste of beer and arousal now dripping onto his tongue. His lips latched around your clit as he suckled hard, moaning against your throbbing bundle of nerves when your fists tightened in his hair.

Your eyes tried to focus on the picture slowly developing in the tank, eyes bleary as you tried to blink away the threatening tears of your arousal. You yelped as two thick fingers suddenly shoved their way into your cunt, twisting and curling, hitting perfectly against your g-spot. The colour drained from your face, oh god you were-

“Liam, m’ close!” You all but shrieked, hips desperately bucking against his face as your eyes screwed shut, the slow pace of his tongue making out with your clit in drunken neediness. And the bastard fucking ignored you.

He pulled you closer into his mouth, gone already off the taste of you. Liam couldn't believe himself, how could he have spent so long ignoring you, ignoring how he felt, ignoring the rise of fury in his chest whenever he looked at you that always gave way to arousal in the end, his own dick throbbing against the seam of his jeans. He wouldn't admit it, but this was all he'd been able to think about the entire week. The memory of your face contorted in pleasure, the desire to completely ruin you, to break the shy, anxious little girl who tucked herself into corners like she didnt belong with her little fucking camera, wanted to see you messy, shaking. 

The white hot flash of pleasure licking up your spine eventually crumbled in on itself as you came with an embarrassingly pornographic moan, a hand clamping over your mouth to muffle the moans uncontrollably spilling themselves from your lips. This was a far cry from the last time the two of you found yourselves in this situation, intimate in a way neither of you wanted to name. Stop. Don't stop. His lips found your clit again through your orgasm, suckling harshly to overstimulate you as your thighs shook around his face.

Last time he'd been mean. Hell, you'd even been mean. Bring yourself out of your shell to fight him last time just to crumble the second his mouth was on you this time. And he wasn't stopping, not even when a sob left your lips at the overstimulation, crying out a pathetic, “S-stop, cant”

“You can” He groaned against your folds, pulling back as his head knocked against the side of the tank, fingers pumping in and out of you at an almost criminally fast pace, eyes clouded with lust as he nodded, “Picture developed yet?”

Fuck. The picture, you hadn't even checked. Your hand fought through the developer to fish the newly formed picture out of the waters, bringing it to your face as you blinked away tears of overstimulation to see the picture. It was both the best and worst thing you'd ever seen. Liam, stood behind you, bodies pressed so close together just out of the frame, lips pressed to the side of your head as you smiled up at him shyly. And something about the picture took over you, moaning out a hurried little, “yes, yes, yes!” as his fingers worked in your cunt. And then. Fuck. You came again, eyes screwing shut with a breathy whimper, legs shaking through your second orgasm in less than five minutes as you soaked his hand. And he fucking groaned, grippng the inside of your thigh to tug them apart so he could get a proper view of your cunt squirting all over his hand, “Fuck- fucking disgusting” He spat, ducking his head to mouth at your still leaking pussy as you cried out in overstimulation, the pleasure turning to white hot pain as he drank yor arousal straight from your cunt, “Cumming just from a fucking picture? Weirdo” He spat.

And then he was on you. 

His hand ripped from your cunt to grab at your hips, pushing you away from him. He chased as you stumbled back, legs still shaking from the weight of your two orgasms. His hands flew to your neck, squeezing as he finally. Fucking finally. Crashed his lips on yours.

It was hot. Messy. Sweaty. Filthy. He charged you back against the wall, hands squeezing your neck just to watch you splutter into his mouth as he shoved his tongue deep inside yours, forcing you to taste the arousal dripping from his tongue as he muttered into your mouth. “You fucking bitch” He snarled against your lips. Snap. He'd changed again. The beer bottle knocked over, amber liquid spilling over the floor but you couldnt bring yourself to care as he pushed you harder into the wall, clothed bulge pressing harshly against your overstimulated cunt, “Get out of my fucking head”

He reeled back, hand flying to slap at your face a couple of times, "You've been in my mind every minute this week” It felt toxic. Hard. You couldn't get enough. You found your footing again, rasping out against the one hand still tensing around your throat, “Y-youre the bitch who came back for seconds” You rasped against his lips, pushing back on him. It was more fight than kiss, his hips grinding up into yours crudely. The adrenaline rush hit hard. Fuck. Don't stop. Stop. Stop. You couldn't shut your mind up. Your head was rushing with the intensity of the switch again. Dirty. Filthy.

Your hand wrangled out from where it'd been pressed between the two of you, coming up to grip at his jaw like he was at your neck, pushing his face away. He bit down on your lip, causing you to yelp as he pulled back. His hands flew to your hips. Fuck. You could hardly see. Didn't have time to think as he spun you around, the clink of his belt coming so fast as he struggled to undo it, hand moving from your hip to push your face sideways into the wall, his own face pressing against yours moments later, “Who even gives a shit about you” He snarled against you as he shoved his pants down with his free hand, “Y-you” You spat right back.

God. This dance was fucking intoxicating.

You moaned in tandem as Liam shoved his dick in one thrust into your cunt, hands pinning you against the wall as his hips began snapping into you, “Yeah, wonder fucking why” He growled against your face, the two of you letting out sounds which bordered on animalstic as he fucked into you like a man posessed, “Prettu thing like you shows up, fucks with my head” He moans against your neck, tilting his head to latch his lips against the skin just above your artery, sucking. Hard. It felt like pure bliss, ecstacy, if you'd done drugs, you'd say this is what the first hit of heroin felt like. The intoxicating way in which Liam switched from worshipping your cunt from beneath you, fucking you like he hated you in a second, “Submitting pictures to the press”

Didnt even give you a second to respond, wouldnt even let you think as his hands grabbed you from behind, tugging you, dick still shoved deep in your pussy as he shoved you back against the tank, the developer spilling over the sides but you couldnt bring yourself to care as you moaned out a desperate little whimper, crying out as his hand fisted in your hair, “Basically fucking me in some dingy little alley then letting me fucking leave you after” He spat against your ear as he tugged you uo against his chest, free hand coming around to rub mean little circles on your clit, “Th-that was you” You warbled out, hissing against the pain of his hand fisting in your hair, combined with the pleasure of his dick ramming against your g-spot relentlessly, “Yeah?” He breathed against your temple, gripping your hair harder to tug your head to the side as he fucked you basically into the tank, hot breath billowing against your neck.

His hand ripped out of your hair, instead of dropping it, he reached around your neck. Tucking your chin against his bicep. A headlock. He used the compromising position to force you to bend at the waist, leaning his elbows against the edge of the tank as he used the new position to fuck you deeper, harder, slamming his hips into yours as you cried out into his bicep flexing around your head, hands flying up to hold his forearm for something to tether you, “B-been treating me like shit f-f’so long” You cried out, tears springing at your lashline at the intensity of the emotion and the pleasure. He groaned against your ear, muscles of his stomach tensing against your back as he fucked you harder, moaning, a sound half caught in a whimper as he buried his head in your neck, “F-cant ignore you anymore, thats why” He groaned against your skin, letting out a chuckle caught in a moan as he stood the two of you back up, “Gonna cum again? Gonna come from me bein’ all mean, that gets you off sweetheart?”

The teasing degredation made your head spin as you choked out a moan against his arm, stretching onto your tiptoes to meet his arm tugging you backwards, hips fucking back against his unrelenting thrusts as you whimper, “Jus-fuck, wanted you to say something, not just fucking leave me there” The anger spilling out of both of you now. You, the confusion, the degradation of having your mind fucked then abandoned by a man who couldnt face the consequences of his actions, and him, who dor some reason had some sick little fascination with you he couldnt shake. Toxic. Addictive. Your walls squeezed around him, the vein on his dick throbbing deep inside of you as the two of you fucked out your anger against eachother. The softness was all gone. This was fucking raw. He was fucking your brains out, ands you him. And you both let each other.

He hissed s he felt you walls pulse around him once more, letting up his hold on your neck, watching as you fell against the tank with a defeated little whimper, so close to the edge of coming for the third time tonight as his hands flew to your hips, his own mind completely fucked as he dragged you back into each one of his unforgiving thrusts, mumbling, “M’sorry, m’here” bending over you to kiss at the top of your spine, his brows knitting together as he felt his dick pulse once again, “Ill be here, cant get you outta my head” he moaned against your spine, you whimpered beneath him, so close to the edge youre practically tilting over every time his dick plunges into that soft spongey spot deep within your walls, “It’s okay.. J-just stop being a cunt” He nods, knocking his head against your back as he whispers, "Where d’ya want me, you pick” He all but whimpers against your shirt, eyes squeezing shut with the effort it took for him not to spill his load in- “Inside” You whimper, tears flowing freely down your cheeks with the onslaught of pleasure as you moved your head, he followed your movements, meeting your eyes as you stared up at him, “J-just be here”

A deeper secret wrapped in something much more terrifying that neither of you could even think to name. So he just pressed himself further into you, surging forward to capture your lips in a hard kiss

A kiss that unravelled the two of you.

And as you moaned into each other, your hips digging against the tank, cunt aching with the need to come. You did. You first, legs shaking for the third and final time that night as your orgasm washed over you with a breathy cry against his lips. Liam wasn't long after, coming with a muffled moan as he spilled his seed deep inside of you. Warm. Intimate. Intoxicating. He was everywhere.

You stayed like that fir a moment more as he continued lazily fucking his hips against yours, riding our your joined orgasm wrapped in eachother as his tongue slid its way between your lips, kissing you like he needed it for air, hardly coming up for air despite both of your chests heaving with the comedown from the sick moment of hate, and the adrenaline of the past two hours.

His hips finally slowed.

And that's when your mind floods again. You half expected something bad. No. You definitely expected it. Hurt from the last time when he left you cold and alone in the alleyway, with cash thrown your way like some groupie he'd see for one night and then never again. He’ll do it. Get out. No. Stop it. I can't. You can't do this again. Could you really hand in your notice? Would you do that just because of him? You worked hard to get to this moment but was it really worth -

He stopped kissing you. You almost flinched, chest heavy with the dread of what was about to come.

But it never did.

He pulled back. But not far, breath hot against your lips. Open your eyes. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy gaze meeting his eyes that held the same fucked out look as yours.

And then? He smiled. It was soft, almost shy. And you couldn't help but return it. His own one widening at your face, “Well that was mad”

“Yeah” You huffed out, relaxing under him. He chuckled at your fucked out expression, already reaching back for the tube of kitchen roll all too conveniently placed on the sideboard. But before he went to clean you up, his pretty blue eyes flickered to your lips once more, pressing the softest kiss there. Like he hadn't just fucked the shit out of you.

Only difference that you could tell this time, as he pulled away quietly, fumbling with the tissue as he bent to clean up the come dripping down the backs of your thighs. You caught yourself smiling, he clearly wasn't used to this. He probably just felt bad. Shut up. The only difference this time, he wasn't planning on leaving. And that made your heart both feeling too heavy, and soaring at the same time.

— · ✦ · —

You’d both cleaned up the best you could, Liam had helped you back into your jeans with mumbles, “Sorry” and “Here y’are”, both of you making trips to the toilet to freshen yourselves up. You let out a shaky sigh as you slipped by him into the bathroom, the tiny little one with french lettering on the door, shutting that behind you as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked fucking beat. Peaky with the weeks of touring and staying, for the most part, on your own. Yet your cheeks were flushed with the heat of the moment just passed, your eyes bright with the light of the endorphins rushing through your brain. You tried to comb through the rats nest your hair had made on your head, eventually giving up with a defeated sigh. That was a whole other problem. You pressed your fingers lightly against the tender hickeys on your neck. And with a quiet huff, you busied yourself with making yourself somewhat presentable.

You hadn't expected him to still be here half an hour later as you watched the picture you pegged up dry. But here he was, fresh cold beer pressed against his lips as he prowled around the studio. You sat curled up in the chair you hadn't noticed earlier with a cup of tea made from a dusty little tea set you and Liam had dug out from one of the cupboards in the room over.

And you just watched him.

Something about the way he moved calmed you.

He was talking in the room properly. The old kettle is still humming in the corner, your own mess of things you'd brought: half finished notebooks with colorful little tabs sticking out the sides, rolls of undeveloped film labelled with messy cursive. It felt lived in. Even if it wasn't yours. He liked that about you, he noticed now that, if you weren't on his tour… he'd feel like something was missing.

He pauses in front of your still open bed, looking down at the stack of battered photography books as he picks one up, weighing the weighty pages in his hand as he looks over at you, “Bit of homework, is it?” He quips, back to his usual antics with a softer edge as he smirks at you, raising his brows as you roll your eyes, swallowing your mouthful of tea, “References”

“Looks like homework t’me” He muttered, chucking it back onto the pile with the rest of them. The light was on now, casting him in a soft glow which meant you could see him properly, hair still stuck to his forehead with the sweat from your cardio session. And looking at him now, you started to feel less alone

He even helped you collect all the photos from the pegs. You liked having an assistant, sure, you loved being alone with your photographs. But even with an alliance as shaky as the one between you and Liam felt like brief companionship as you both sat on the concrete floor like kids, the pictures spread out as you both surveyed them.

Instead of looking at the ones of just him, he started noticing all the ones you took in private.

A roadie laughing. Someone sleeping propped up by a guitar case as a makeshift pillow. Crew carrying cables through the rain. “Christ” He muttered, turning one of them over in his hands as he let out a quiet laugh, “You couldn't care less about the gigs, do ya?” But, unlike you expected, he didn't even seem mad that you weren't doing your job ‘properly’. He was trying to figure you out. And you let him. With a shrug you plucked the picture from his hands, leaning your chin on your knee brought up to your chest, “Not in the way everyone else does”

Liam’s brows furrowed, tilting his head back so he could look down at you like that would reveal anything. You just sighed, spreading a hand out across the pictures in a whole gesture, “Everyone photographs the stage” You explained quietly, suddenly feeling a little shy under his gaze. This was the most you and him had ever spoken. “I like what happens before and after” You said quietly, half expecting him to take the piss out of you.

But he didn't. He nodded slowly. “Aye, that's the bit everyone forgets” He muttered under his breath. You found yourself watching him, noticing. This Liam was so different from the cocky frontman who strutted about on stage and made himself the loudest man in the room on purpose. He felt curious, intuitive, smart in a way he never showed anyone. Vulnerable.

Even the conversation began to grow easier the more you spent analysing the images spread out across the floor. He starts talking through the pictures, telling you things you couldn't read yourself through the lens.

“He’d just dropped an amp on his foot” He laughs, pointing at a picture of a very sulky Guigsy.

A beat.

Then he laughed, picking up a picture of an older man on the road crew.

“That fella asked his bird to marry him on one of the rides at Blackpool”

You just laughed, finding yourself leaning his direction as you looked up at him with a shy smile, “You knew that?” He laughed right back at you, “Course I did”. What you were both beginning to realise, is that maybe you're more alike than you thought. You're both way more perceptive than most would assume.

You found yourselves both, in a little while, still waiting around for the pictures to fully finish drying, having hung them all back up to help speed up the process. You'd half expected him to have left by now but, no. Something kept him here. You were secretly glad, you found his presence now didn't spell fear or hatred within you anymore, it actually kept your head quiet. You hadn't felt this much peace in a while.

You checked your watch, the time had just ticked past half two in the morning, and with a yawn, you decided to announce, “Five more minutes” Trying to gauge his reaction. “Fucking finally” He groaned. That made you smile, he wasn't having fun, but he stayed. For whatever reason. You weren't really bothered with asking him. Another beer made its way to his lips.

“Good things take time” You reminded him, bringing your tea to your lips in some strange sort of dependency that you felt you had to match his movements, eyes crinkling at the corners as he snorts, “Utter bollocks”

You smile, “Spoken like someone who wants everything yesterday.” You watched him carefully as he leant back against the wall, crossing his arms, “Can’t help it, can I?”

Silence washed over you again. The extractor fan hummed above the two of you as you settled into the comforting quiet, just listening together as rain tapped like soft whispers against the roof, the room finally calming, allowing the two of you to adjust to the moment. That was until he looked over at you again, taking note of the camera you'd strapped to your chest, just wanting to feel the familiar weight of it against you. He squinted his eyes as he looked at it. It was old. Not the shiny new camera you'd obviously bought from his compensation. He didn't comment on that, though, just blinked at you for a second, before breaking the silence again.

“Does that still work?”

You looked down at your chest, a slight smile quirking at the corners of your lips as you picked up the camera. It was old, sure, but you could say she was mighty. She'd lasted you for years, the only constant which had remained in your whole life. “Sometimes” You smiled at him, feeling the exhaustion begin to settle in your bones but you wanted to leave the conversation open. You found yourself not wanting the night to end.

“Why keep it?” He challenged you, now sitting forwards in the chair he'd made his way into, hands on his knees as he stared it down like it was about to grow wings and make a beeline for him. You shrugged, “Took my first proper photograph on it”

He stood then, sauntering his way over to you with that iconic walk. Some things at least, never change. He crouched in front of you. He looked so soft like this, in his beatles shirt still sticking to his back, his hair all messy hanging around his face as he reaches out for the camera, taking it in his grip as he turns it over, “bit sentimental, aren't ya”

“Practical”

He frowned, “How’s that practical?”

“It reminds me why I started”

He thought about that for a second, with a huff, he decided to sit at the foot of the chair, leaning his back against your legs. The exhaustion is hitting the both of you now. Yet still he stayed. His shaggy brown hair rested against the fabric of your jeans, and you felt a strange compulsion to reach up and touch it. But you didn't, just watched as his eyes blinked hazily. You chalked it up to the alcohol. But still, it was interesting to watch him stare across the room absently, his lips moving as he worked through what he wanted to say next.

“So, what's your game then”

What? That was the last thing you expected to leave this man's lips. You frowned, tilting your head down. He'd already craned his head back against your knees to look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“With all this” he spread his arms wide, gesturing around the room. You followed his gesture, looking around the room in tandem with him. “Youre trailing bands all over the place, breathin’ in this chemical… shite every night”

You laugh at that, shaking your head as you let your hands rest in your lap. Just then, you decide you're too exhausted to not give into temptation, so you slide your hands into his hair, playing with the shaggy, tufty strands as you look down at him with a shrug, “Well, when you put it that way…”

He just shrugged right back, clearly unbothered by the contact as he spoke again, “So, what's it all for then”. You thought about his question for a moment, really thought about it. You found yourself reaching down for his half finished beer which sat on one side of his legs, bringing it to your lips. Were you dragging it out? Did you just need something to get you through this? You don't want it to end. Keep it up. “I don't know” You said truthfully. And you've never seen him look so shocked, thick brows frowning as he twists his neck around to look at you, "You're kidding”

Shrugging, you hand him the beer back, slipping your hand back into his air as you tug gently to pull his head back against your knees with a quiet sigh, “I guess I just wanna make something that outlasts me” Youd never been this honest with anyone in your entire life, never fucked somebody so aggresively then had them laying at your feet like a parent comforting a child as your hands carded through his hair. It was thrilling. It was terrifying. You don't want it to stop. Don't stop. Stop. You nodded towards the drying prints, “You lot forget who you've spoken to, forget what's written about you” You laugh, shaking your head, "You'll even forget those songs you sing one day”

A beat.

“It's hard to forget something real. Something right in front of you, you can touch it, it's here. It's a reminder”

Liam had followed your gaze, one hand had wrapped around your ankle as his calloused fingers stroked absentminded circles into the skin there, reaching back for his beer as he tucked it against his lips, shaking his head as he swallowed. “Yeah, guess I never really thought about it like that” He doesn't expand on it further, but it's clear your words had some sort of introspective sense working on him. His lashes fluttered against his cheek again. The lightbulb flickered.

A beat. Heartbeat. You could feel it.

Boom. Boom.

“What about you?” Boom, boom BOOM.

“Be massive” He answered immediately, your heart thudding slowed to the gentle rhythm again, your body calming as you settled back into the chair with an unamused grin on your face, “Really?”

“...well, yeah” He sounded unsure. He pulled away from you with a sharp sigh, like the contact was too much. Maybe it was. You couldn't tell how you felt about it anymore. He drank the rest of his beer. You noticed hed, apart from when he was fucking your mind loose earlier, hed never set down a beer. Sure, he was young. But did it mean anything else.

His grin had faded faster than you expected. He kicked the edge of the tank,stood over it as it rippled violently before settling back into the calm, “Guess I just don' t fancy endin’ back up where I came from”

“Feels like if i stop, thats me done”

You didn't interrupt. You didn't even know what to say, he wasn't making much sense- not that he ever did. But his face was twisted with something difficult, his throat tense around the words as he began striding around the room again, absentmindedly taking inventory as a way to deflect some of the vulnerability he attempted to show, swallowing with a tensed jaw. He seemed surprised he even said it. You didn't. He muttered, “Forget I said anything, total bollocks”

You blink. “I wasn't going to”

His fists balled up by his sides. And for the first time in his life, Liam didn't challenge the person who called him out. It was almost like he expected it.

— · ✦ · —

Liam helped you pack up once more, claiming it was his ‘duty’, whatever that was supposed to mean. You were just glad for the company. You sort through pages and pictures together, staring down at the one the two of you took earlier, the last one you wanted to put into your bag.

The corner is curling up, left too long in the water without opportunity to dry out. There was something poetic about that, but it was something you didn't quite feel like naming. Didn't want to give it a voice because that just felt too vulnerable for you to address. So you just smoothed the edges out absentmindedly, leaving it on the edge.

It started to fall. Liam reached over you to stop it sliding off the table. And you thanked him without even thinking. You both smiled.

The darkroom was quieter now, like even the room could acknowledge that something had shifted without either of you calling it out. All the prints shoved deep to the bottom of your bag as you packed chemicals away dutifully. Liam couldn't stay still for long, eventually: “you always here this late?”

You shrug, “Sometimes later” A smile. You decide to push your luck, “Got held up”

He laughed. It made you smile.

The two of you stepped out into the hallway of the rent out studio space, the contrast immediate. Gone is the little bubble you'd made for yourselves under harsh red lights. But you stayed close to each other despite the outside now penetrating in. The noise returns, a late night cleaner pushes a trolley past, the french lilting music from the front desk providing the perfect backdrop as you walk past the front desk. Liam shoots a, Cheers love” Towards the desk as you're buzzed out into the cold French night. But despite not talking to you, his hand makes his way to your lower back to guide you home.

— · ✦ · —

You stayed silent on the walk back, neither of you needing necessarily to fill the silence. At the entrance of the hotel, the rain leaving the pavement shining under warm streetlights, tour buses still parked outside. People are still moving equipment. It's like you never left. You don't think people would notice if you did anyway.

Liam pauses once the two of you walk in, the lobby quiet enough for him to be able to speak up. He glances towards the separate elevators you need to take, jaw clenching. He catches your elbow, smirking down at you when you look back up at him.

“Mad, this” He says softly. His eyes never leave yours. You look over at the lobby, back to him, “What is?”

He just shrugs, chuckling under his breath as he rubs the back of his neck, “Spent most of my time trying to get away from your daft camera”

“Then spent all night fuckin’ chattering about it”

You laugh, “And then some”. Bold. You like the way he makes you feel. You shouldn't. Stop feeling it. You can't. You don't want to.

He hums softly, tilting his head once more. Look around the lobby. Then he tugs you towards him, hands reaching around your shoulders as he pulls you into… a hug? You can't help but reciprocate, standing together in complete silence. You can't even think properly as he pulls back, big blue eyes staring into yours. And he kisses you again, hand coming up to cup your jaw as he presses his unmoving lips to yours. One. Two. Three seconds.

And then he was gone. Back turned away from you as he headed towards the lifts which would take him to the top floor with the rest of his bandmates, you stood trudging towards the ‘normal’ one. You were so tired you couldn't even address the way that had just made your head spin. Didnt want to unpack whatever the fuck had happened tonight.

But something between the two of you had shifted. A quiet admission that neither of you wanted to stay away from each other anymore.

— · ✦ · —

And as you began to unpack your materials for the day in the tiny room disturbed by the apparently never stopping music from above you, you realised one picture was missing.

The picture of the two of you.

He took it.

tag list: @blogbustersii @anjalfc @gxnyadavid @simoneeyy @soerikacanwait @number1princessdianafan @bugbugboy @veruschkaaaa @oasisyearner @beherenowl @lipglossandcigarettes6 @dykwimean @oasisswag @strwbryluver @sonnyangel11 @invinsabel @alicehighflyingbirds @damonalboner @ddirtyshirtt @hernamewasavaline @gallagherish99 @galicantwait @thebestmole @charmlessgrrl @noelsgreystreak @thebestmole @wtsthstrymrnglry

Noel told himself time and time again he could resist your influence. Late nights spent in the studio, hearing the borderline angelic tones coming from the room literally next door to his. Head in his hands, trying to convince himself he wasn’t listening, that this wasn’t even a thing. That you weren’t a thing.

Unfortunately, you were the one thing in his life he hadn’t prepared for.

Noel’s a consistent being, especially since the breakdown of Oasis all those years ago - all he needed now was to live a life that had some form of normalcy. He woke up, kissed his wife good morning, checked if his kids were all sorted for school, then off to the studio to start creating some new songs. Songs to break from old habits with the high flying birds, now a thing living outside of his head rather than in his mind; larger than anything. Noel’s life was good - nice kids, nice house, nice wife most of all; Sara was the best thing in his life, his absolute rock. Almost 20 years married going strong.

So why now was he questioning it all?

He looks up at the ceiling, hands falling away uselessly to his side, hearing the knock on the door.

He let you in immediately.

۪　⊹︵︵︵ ♪ ︵︵︵ ⊹ ⠀۪

He still remembers the first time he saw you move in. You, some bright eyed 20 something year old, stood in an outfit that showed way too much skin for the cold October day, suckling on a lollipop whilst you watched movers grab boxes upon boxes of equipment. He’d skulked outside to see what all the commotion was about- the studio next door to his had been completely empty for a good few months, the last failing artist having shacked up his stuff, called it a day, left in the night. He was boring- never wanted a chat, never even really paid much attention.

Noel could tell you were different.

He’d felt like such a dick, that day, gawping at you as you flitted between boxes, making sure the men were being “10,000%” careful with your stuff. He’d laughed. Thought you were cute. That was just an age thing, at 44, you were allowed to think the younger generation were cute. That was, at least, until you spotted him.

“Alright?” You said, the sun beating down into your too long lashes, were they fake? Noel couldn’t tell. He wasn’t used to analysing stuff in this much detail. He also wasn’t used to people being so bold around him, “Sorry about the noise, Noel, we’ll be outta your hair soon”

You knew who he was. Of course you did, he was the best fucking thing to come out of Manchester in a long time, there was no doubt about that.

“Oh, you’re alright sweetheart,” He’d said, his voice catching in his throat a little. He swallowed, trying to get rid of some of the tension pulling at his vocal cords, “Need a hand?”

“That’d be fab, thanks”

۪　⊹︵︵︵ ♪ ︵︵︵ ⊹ ⠀۪

Noel also, regrettably, remembered the first time you’d come around. It’d been a couple of weeks since he’d seen you. But he heard you, alright. Heard the beautiful saccharine tones falling from your lips in the next room over, heard the girly bubbly tunes playing loudly from speakers as what seemed like crowds of your friends gushed all over them, the song distracting him from his own writing. But it wasn’t the song, was it.

He also heard the late night rendezvous with male partners. It’d started off quiet at first, a little giggle here and there while he strummed on his guitar, the slight knocking about of furniture. The sound of a low male rasp against your bubbly feminine tone. Were you-

His question was answered fast, faster than he wanted to. He sat there with his notebook in-front of him, face, unfortunately, blushed a sickening shade of red as he pretended not to listen to the honey sweet sighs falling from your lips, or the way they evolved into something much more pornographic as the thudding from the room got louder.

What was impossible to ignore, was the sick straining of his cock against his jeans.

۪　⊹︵︵︵ ♪ ︵︵︵ ⊹ ⠀۪

Quickly though, the two of you became friends. Hallway pals at first, a slight nod of his head, and the ridiculously sweet waves you gave him, “y’alright Noel?” slipping from your lips making him smile as he walked off, hands in his pockets, smiling too much for a man who was currently going back to a room his wife was in.

You’d spent some time together, having invited him into your studio space for his input on a song, sitting far too close to him on the couch. He could feel the way your breasts pressed against his arm, not wanting to admit to himself that he actually missed the sensation the second you pulled away, “Yeah- uh, yeah it’s good, darlin’”

“Yeah?” You’d said it in a way that made his stomach drop, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead as he nodded.

He felt sick, not ill, just absolutely twisted. His head held in his hands more often than he’d like these days, cursing himself for the way his dick throbbed in his jeans when he thought of you. Thinking of you with his wife asleep in the bed behind him.

He’d curse himself out, obviously, running hands down his face as he gave into it. Gave into you. Leaning over Sara to kiss her awake, fumbling with his boxers to pull them down as her sleep soft arms made their way around his neck. Sara. He reminded himself as he sunk deep into you. — Her.

But there was still the occasional time your name almost left his lips as he fucked her. Hips snapping feverishly as he shoved her head down into the pillows. It was easier to think it was you that way.

Both of you knew the tension would snap, you felt it for a while. The teasing drag of your hand over his every time you begged him for help. You were so pretty when you did that, leaning against the doorframe all soft, your hair in rollers.

“What’ve you got that shit in for?”

“Got a party later old man, need your help real quick”

He’d let himself stand behind you, one hand bracketing you in on your right side, the other idling by his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. He adjusted a knob on the mixing desk. Showed you how to do it like this was just private tutoring just for you. “Go on try it” He’d said, about to pull back. Until your hand covered his own, feeling the way the music changed in its tone as you moved the knob around. Noel had to bite on his lower lip to stop him from saying anything.

Sure he was old. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still appreciate a pretty little thing like you. With your bright smiles, your pleases and thankyou, the way your hand slammed against the wall you knew the couch in his side of the studio was on when you were being fucked out of your mind. It was only a matter of time before the game was up.

۪　⊹︵︵︵ ♪ ︵︵︵ ⊹ ⠀۪

The divorce came quietly, but not exactly a surprise. Hell, he’d even conversed it with you.

It’d been a late night, you brought him into your studio mainly for the purpose of trying to flirt through those marital barriers. Sat on the couch - you with a cocktail can held within your perfectly manicured nails tapping against the condensing aluminum. It rocked through his mind like nails down a chalkboard — no, it wasn’t that unpleasant. The sound turned to a silent melody in no time as he turned to look at you.

“Sara and I called it off”

He held your eyes for a moment, steely blue eyes trailing down your soft face, your soft body, that velvet tracksuit you always fucking wore. It was all worse tonight, the feelings, the guilt. The need. He watched you carefully as you shuffled on the couch.

You were trying to hide a smile from your face.

“Really?”

“Really” He echoed, sitting back on the couch with a shrug like it didn't really bother him. It didn't really, he and Sara hadn't been a 'couple' in the traditional sense for years now- romance consisted mainly through the children: talks late at night in bed about how Donovan was getting on in school, was Sonny enjoying that new football team he'd joined? Was Anais coming round soon because they really hadn't seen each other in a while-

His rambling thoughts were cut off by you. You, so much younger, so much sweeter- softer. Nothing like the cold affection he'd received from his actual wife, nothing like he'd felt in months. Especially not when your hand made it's way to his knee, leaning in close like you wanted to whisper a secret, "I'm sorry..."

He swallowed. He didn't want to turn his head where it was focused on a stack of crates across the room. They were pink. Fucking pink. Who in their right mind would have pink crates and a pink studio and who the fuck would be thinking this much about a girl half his age-

He was trying to stop himself from turning towards you.

But the pull proved to be too much. Losing the internal battle- the struggle, he turned his head. Blue eyes met big expectant ones, your lips so close to one another's that if either of you wavered just the slightest bit they'd be brushing, hot breathing mingling in the space between. Too close Noel. He didn't listen to his mind. Licked his lips, trying to fight with the pull to glance down at your own, "Don't be..."

You smiled at that, hand coming up to brush against his jaw so gently as you shifted further up the couch so thighs pressed against his. You could see the way the contact made his jaw work, the way it clicked and his hand tensed on his thigh like he was putting in real effort not to grab you right now. “Don’t be” you repeated softly, thumb brushing over the height of his cheekbone. He looked absolutely torn.

Noel didn't even know what to say, didn't know how to behave. The pull he felt was too strong, too much for him to handle, your thumb dusting across his cheek just pushing him. Pushing him over the edge.

And that's when he kissed you. Warm, soft lips met yours, so soft and gentle the contact felt barely there. His hand made its way to your thigh, warm against the soft fabric of your comfy joggers, gripping tighter as he deepened the kiss. The other made it's way to the base of your hair, tugging slightly as his lips made gape to shove his tongue into your mouth-

Fuck.

He pulled away with a sharp gasp. The memories flooding back in of his wife waiting at home, always so dutiful despite the years of cold affection passed between them. His kids in bed, waiting for the stories dad would come home and tell them of his time in the studio, what he was working on. What was he doing? He couldn't even think properly with the slick little line of spit connecting both of your lips, the warm atmosphere of your fucking girly little studio causing his head to spin, the sweet smell of the soft perfume you always - always wore, the one he always noticed, the one he couldn't get out of bed when he was at home by himself trying not to fuck his fist at the scent of you somehow lingering on his shirt-

But, as always, you cut him off again.

This time with soft lips hitting his harder than before, teeth clashing as you clambered into his lap. "Don't think about it" You breathed against his lips, seated yourself so perfectly over his half hard dick bulging against the seam of his jeans, "Don't think about them". He groaned as you pushed yourself back against him, hands instinctively flying to your thighs to tug you jarder against his growing erection, a slight moan leaving his open lips as he let your tongue invade, hands gripping you impossibly tighter as your tongues fought between your mouths.

"Fuck" He almost growled, pulling away once more - not to stop whatever was going on now - no. He made himself clear, "You're always in my fuckin' head aren't you" Pushing you back by your shoulders until your back rested against the comfy cushions of the couch, already propping himself over you. The hand that had been clenched in the back of your hair now flying down to your throat. Not to squeeze, just to hold, quiet dominance in a way he knew his wife would never let him. Never wanted. But here you were - some pretty ;little thing half his age, the thing he could never get out of his head, finally under his control. The thought made him dizzy. "You've been fucking gagging to get between me and my wife"

He leant down, practically growling the words out against you lips as one thick, calloused hand shoved your thighs open, lowering his hips to press his growing bulge against your core. He wanted you to feel bad - god, he knew it was fucking twisted, knew it was wrong what he was saying. But as his hardness met your core, already hot even through the sweats, he couldn't help but groan, hand squeezing your throat tighter. Head dropping down to your collarbone like he couldn't bear looking at you, "All I can think about is you" His voice sounded strained, Mancunian accent turning even thicker as his lips brushed against your neck. "Y-yeah?" You muttered, the tension of his hand wrapped around your neck causing your voice to strain in a way that made his dick jump in his pants. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Yeah"

One word. Breathed against your neck. Before he was flipping you. Thick hands tugged your pants down, spreading your ass crudely with one hand as the other slipped around your neck to hold your head up. "N-noel- what?" You tried to stammer out. But secretly, you could hardly believe your luck, months spent pushing him, teasing him in a way that wasn't obvious. But was clear enough to get him to break. "Shh- shush pet" He muttered, holding your head back so it strained, his forehead knocking down against the crown of your head. "I know darlin'" He breathed softly, trying to calm himself, forehead creasing as his brows furrowed, trying to stop himself form completely losing it. "I know" He sighed once more, hand spreading your ass now kneading into the plush flesh, swallowing, "D'ya want this?" He muttered, fingers brushing almost so close to your already throbbing wetness, stopping themself just close enough to hear it, "Tell me- g'on, use your words".

He felt your head try to raise even more, the room now thick with an almost palpable tension. He let up his grip on your chin, hands now slowly making their way to either side of your head, clenching them into the thick couch cushions as he swallowed. And he almost fully lost his breath at your expression. The slight lazy smirk you wore, the glint in your eyes despite the compromising position as you turned to look up into his. You bit your lip. Your eyes darted up and down his frame, eyes glinting with a kind of desperation he hadn't seen since his flings in the 90s.

"I say..." You whisper, leaning up even more so your bare ass brushed against his dick. You smiled even more as his steely blue eyes fluttered shut, jaw ticking with the obvious effort it took for him to just slam your head back down into the couch. You blinked, just once dragging out the obvious tension in the room, "I say... you've wanted this longer than you wanted to let on"

"Yeah" His voice was shaky, swallowing so thickly it almost caught in his throat, hand moving back to your ass, slipping around to tug you up so your knees rested on the couch, basically on all fours. And you let him. You wanted - no, you needed this. Just as much as him, clearly. "Your wife won't have ever made you feel as good as I can"

He let himself laugh at that, admittedly - his cheeks heated up slightly as he dropped his head between your shoulder blades, hands now sliding up from your ass to press you back down onto your front. He chuckled lazily, hands sliding down your torso in a way which raised goosebumps across the slightly exposed skin from where your shirt had rolled up, "Nasty fuckin' thing" He muttered, shuffling down the couch. Resting himself on his stomach, "Pretty" Is all he muttered as his thumbs pulled your plush cheeks apart, hot breath fanning across your already dripping centre, "Can tell you've wanted this" His voice was rough, harsh in a way that told he didn't feel like soft, but wanted to, just for now. Until he worked himself up to it.

His tongue made contact with your core. A sharp gasp escaping your lips as warm hands tugged you closer to his head, nose nudging against your entrance as his tongue snaked down to your clit. "God, you taste so fucking good pet" He muttered, hands gripping your thighs so tight they might leave bruises. He could hardly believe himself, just 20 minutes ago he was fretting about how his life was completely falling apart, now he was tasting your sweetness on his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut as he let himself immerse himself in you.

Decidedly, however, he couldn't stay calm for long. The soft skin of your thighs, the primal scent of you, the taste of your wetness set something completely different off in him, hands gripping your thighs pushing you up further, causing your back to arch crudely. "N-noel..." You whimpered into the couch, trying to turn to look at him. But one hand pushed your head back into the couch, overcome with the feel of your wetness dripping onto his tongue as he pushed it further into your core, revelling in the sound of your wetness. And you laughed. You fucking laughed - a sound that made his eyes snap open, pulling back from you - not even bothering to wipe the dripping slick on his slightly stubbled chin, "G'on" He muttered hoarsely, hand trailing up the back of your thigh to push two fingers into your core, a sharp huff of laughter blowing from his nose at the way your laughter stopped, "Said you gotta talk to me baby, need to hear ya"

You huffed in embarrassment as two thick fingers scissored you open, voice coming out all shaky as you pushed yourself up, "You gone senile, old man?" You teased. Noel's eyes narrowed, fingers pushing further into your cunt, pressing down hard against your g-spot to elicit a crude little whimper from you, "Fucks that means to mean?"

You grinned, pressing your lips together to prevent the hopeless whimpers from tumbling from your lips, pushing your hips back into his hand. Fucking yourself on his fingers. Noel felt like he was going absolutely insane.

"Means I think you can go harder"

"No wonder your wife wanted to leave, can't have been giving her dick good enough"

"You fucking little-" Noel cut himself off as his jaw clenched, tugging his fingers out of your hole as he grabbed you by the shoulders, picking you up with almost impossible strength to drag you across his lap, splayed in a way that should've embarrassed you but instead made you even wetter in a shameful dance. Neither of you quite knew what this way, but Noel knew he'd heard enough of you being a brat. his hand smoothed across your ass as you lay there helpless in his lap, free hand tugging your head up so he could meet your eyes, "Want you to fuckin' count" he muttered, thumb tugging on your lower lip so he could shove it to the back of your throat, chuckling as you tried not to gag, watching with a little coo as your eyes welled up in tears, "Think you can do that before you go all dumb on me?"

He smiled as you nodded, hardly able to do an anything else in the compromising position as you clenched around nothing. noel felt the tensing of your thighs, eyes sliding from yours to stare down at your plush ass hovering, practically begging for it to mark him up. his smirk turned crueler as his hand brushed against soft skin. Before

SLAP.

His hand made contact, a shark smacking sound echoing around the small studio, the sight a crude contrast to the soft space you'd built for your haunting little sirens songs - at least that's how it felt to Noel. the pull of you was impossible, he could hardly believe he had you here right now, all alone, spread out across his lap. " can't hear you, princess" He muttered, hand slapping against the skin of your ass once more, sending you forward with a slight yelp, voice muffled around his thumb plugging your mouth, "Two- that was two" You tried to sound stronger than you actually were right now, tried to pretend like him exerting his dominance over you wasn't exactly what you wanted for months.

He kept up at that for a while, repeated slaps of his hand against your ass, ruby ring on his pinky finger practically burning the hot flesh as his hand made contact again. And every single time, you were so responsive. So good for him, whimpering out your responses for just how many times he was abusing your poor ass. It was a far cry from the usually bubbly girl who'd greet him in the corridors, feeding perfectly into his sick fantasy of ruining you, ruining you until all you could think about was him.

He let a soft hum sound from the back of his throat, thumb pushing down harder on the back pf your tongue just to test how much you'd gag for him, a smile blooming across his aged features as the little sound slipped from your parted lips, "Good girl" he whispered, hand soothing against the red skin of your ass, tapping cruelly on the flushed skin just to hear you whine, smile deepening even further, "Y'like that, huh?" He whispered, slipping yet another finger into your mouth to tugbyoir mouth to the side, manhandling your face in just the way he wanted. Just to embarrass you further. God, he'd never wanted to ruin somebody like this in his life, "Like me callin' you that?"

His hands made their way to your middle, hearing the way you gasped now that full oxygen potential was returned to you. But that was short lived, of course it was. Your breath was stolen when Noel grabbed your waist, pulling you up so you were sat properly in his lap.

"Take me out then" He muttered, smiling up at the mess you'd already become, shifting yourself on his lap to not feel the sickly-sweet pain of his abuse of your ass, your perfectly applied makeup smudged by his hands and the tears which had sprung in your eyes from them pricking with tears at the stinging sensation of his hand. Yet still, you took it all like a champ, wiping the leftover drool from the corners of your lips as you shifted closer, rolling your bare core against his bulge as you smiled that horrifically sweet grin, "Take what out?" You leant closer to him so your lips brushed against his. You kissed him then, clearly distracting him from whatever he felt like doing as you reached one hand down to his lap, palming at him through his jeans. He let out a rough sigh, hips jerking up into yours to feel the friction of your hand pressing against his dick. But even that was short lived, as you pulled away, free hand swiping away the string of drool connecting you from the soft kiss, "daddy?"

Noel felt like he was going to be sick. An almost guttural groan escaped his lips as he knocked his forehead against yours, "Fuck, can't say shit like that" He whispered. You were brutal, not even five minutes ago you were choking on his fingers, whimpering like some helpless little thing as he used you in the way that he wanted. the shifting dynamics made his head spin, leaving a little nip against your jaw, he muttered, "Gonna let me fuck you now? Waited long enough haven't I?"

He lifted his head, those insanely blue eyes boring into yours as he gripped your jaw, shaking your head as he manhandled you, free Gand coming to the smalll of your back as he pushed you, causing you to lean back on his lap as the other moved from your jaw down to your cunt, calloused thumb brushing against your clit, "Gonna let daddy have you, huh baby?"

He smiled as you nodded. God you were impossible.

And Noel wasted no time.

He pushed you down, forcing you to scramble off his lap and lay splayed on the floor, staring up at him as he stood up, practically towering over you. Fuck.

The sharp clink of his belt rang through the air, he kept his eyes on you the entire time, pinning you where you sat splayed on the floor with just his gaze. Once the belt was undone, however, that was th end of your redundancy.

"Have at it then" He muttered, staring you down as he held his hands out in a crude gesture, "Let me fuck that pretty throat, eh?"

You couldn't help but smile uo at him, an action mirrored by an uncharacteristically soft smile spreading across his face as you knelt, ready to stand up to make your way to situate yourself between his legs. However, as you managed to get one foot up, his eyes stopped you. Narrowing in a way that showed absolute disapproval. You froze where you were, caught by his gaze as he tilted his head. You swallowed, the confidence slowly draining as you sat back on your haunches, a soft, "What?" Escaping your lips. Noel stared at you for just a moment more, shrugging, before taking himself out. Your eyes zeroed in immediately as he let his dick slap crudely against his stomach, hard and flushed as he wrapped his hand around the base. Never taking his eyes off you. "Oh" You said softly, suddenly tamed by the sight of him working his dick in his fist slowly, tense grunts escaping from his lips as he stood in front of the couch, "So pretty" You whispered, finally looking up to meet his eyes. He chuckled at the sight of your face, clearly needy for him. Gagging for it. Cute.

"C'mere then"

It was such a simple phrase, said so softly it almost gave you whiplash from the different ways in which he was speaking to you. The casual dominance in his tone, the way he'd started to slightly fuck up into his fist, never taking his eyes off yours. You tried to stand, but his hand stopped. He was frowning. "Ah, ah ah" He stopped you. You didn't say anything, just watched as he continued, gesturing to the floor with one hand. "Nobody said you could stand, pet"

You let out a quiet whimper. Fuck. Was he really going to make you crawl to him? Surely not even Noel Gallagher could stoop that low.

Clearly, he could however. He stood there, unmoving, hand now wrapped around his dick again as he pumped it so lewdly. He smiled softly at your face, tilting his head to the side like he expected something, free hand beckoning you towards him.

And so, with a laboured sigh, and a smile which served to convey fake confidence. You obeyed. Crawling towards him on your hands and knees, slow to give the impression of something sultry. Noel let out a shaky sigh at the sight, his own eyes fluttering shut like he couldn't bear ti even watch as his hand tightened around his dick, pumping it even harder at the crude sight.

Following the embarrassment, you eventually made your way over to him, resting your hands on the side of his knees, hands clenching in the thick denim of his jeans, resting your cheek against his knee as you waited for his instruction. Noel let his eyes flutter open, ticking his jaw once as he let his eyes meet yours one more time, smiling softly down at you.

"Hi" You muttered, catching your lip between your front teeth as you stared up at him. He chuckled at that, releasing his dick as he let his hand reach down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against the height of your cheekbone. Just like you had done before, that felt so long ago, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his thumb. And then-

SLAP.

Another sharp tap, this time against your cheek, Noel chuckled above you, catching your chin where your face had turned away from the force of his hit, "Where are you going, eh?" He said, tone so mocking it was downright sinful, gripping your chin harder, bending at the waist so he was fully making eye contact with you, "Gonna suck me off now, pet? Gonna show me what you can really do?"

But all you could do was nod, sitting up dutifully on your haunches as you waited for him. Watching him. He looked like he didn't even want to continue, just for a moment, a flash of doubt casting over your face. In that brief, apparent lapse in his judgement, he bent further at the waist. His lips sealing your in a kiss almost too soft for the situation, lips lingering warm on yours for a moment. Before he pulled back. "Be a good girl, then" He muttered.

And he wasted no time.

He guided his dick to your lips, watching as you dutifully opened your mouth wide, eyes flickering to watch as he slowly pushed it in, the veins, warm on either side of his shaft, throbbed just once at the feeling of your mouth. So warm. So wet. Sara hadn't given him head in years, called him 'boring'. Said it wasn't exciting enough. Yet here you were, this pretty young thing with her lips wrapping eagerly around the tip of his dick. Noel almost couldn't believe his eyes, hand coming tp stroke your hair after he finished easing the tip into your mouth, calming you. Controlling you. "That's it sweetheart, you okay?" He muttered, warm Mancunian accent wrapping around the words in a way that was simple. All you could do was nod, furrowing your brows as you focused yourself pn taking more of him, looking uo into his eyes for some form of approval.

And Noel already looked completely wrecked. His brown hair, now flecked with salt and pepper, completely messy, face slightly flushed as he stared down at you like this was everything he ever wanted. And that was true, since the moment he'd set eyes on you, this was the moment he'd been dreaming of. So, he took control of it.

The first roll of his hips against your mouth was slow, almost sinful in its pace, as if he was testing the waters. A sharp sigh left Noel's lips at the feeling of your tongue swirling around him as he pulled back slightly, just to push his dick back into your mouth, watching almost hypnotised as you took him so well, thumb coming to collect the drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. He smirked, a sharp laugh escaping his lips, a sound entwined with a half moan as he looked down at you, tapping the corner of your mouth, "Big stretch now, love" He muttered.

And then he shoved his thumb in alongside his dick.

And from then on, Noel Gallagher was unstoppable.

With one sharp movement, he thrust his dick into the back of your throat, laughing as he hooked his thumb around your lips, pulling them wide open to see the way his dick hit the soft spot at the back of your throat. Both hands then curled around your face, tugging with his fingers wrapped around our jaw to pull you back. "Old bones, eh baby?" He chuckled, slightly breathless as he sat himself down against the couch. You adjusted, barely, as you fell forward against him, arms scrambling so your hands could find purchase on his thighs, his hands gripping your face, the thumb still tucked in your mouth alongside his cock. And then, the cruel way in which his hips immediately started up an unforgiving onslaught, fucking up into your mouth with reckless abandon.

Noel stayed quiet for a moment. Just enough so that he could hear the lewd squelching of his cock pistoning in and out of your mouth, "fucking pathetic" he muttered as you began to whimper around each gag, tears that had been pricking at your waterline now beginning to shed fully at the force of his dick hitting the back of your throat. You couldn't even think, couldn't even speak, just rendered to a hole for him to use as he pleased. Months had led up to this pointe very teasing glance in the corridors, every time he fucked his wife pretending it was you. All of that tension leading up to now - Noel Gallagher laying back against the couch in your studio like he owned it, like he was the king, just using you however he wanted.

"Know you wanted this bad" He all but growled as he gripped your face harder, fucking your skull at such a pace it made you dizzy, a moan which sounded like a half whine slipping from his lips as he lifted his hips once more, fucking into your face, "Sitting in here all pretty, knowing i'm just next door"

You've never heard him sound so frustrated, never knew he could even sound like this. Everything was going too fast yet all too slow at the same time unable yo do anything except let him continue his verbal onslaught, his balls hitting heavy against your chin with each thrust of his hips, his dick throbbing almost wildly as he continued, "Y'were mine since the first secon-" he cut himself off with a guttural moan, gripping your face harder as he continued to slap his hips into your face, "Even though you knew I had a missus - I heard fucking everything you little devil, all those pathetic little lads you brought back" He chuckled slightly, catching himself with another breathy little moan as yo let out a desperate whine, trying to do anything which would bring him closer to the edge, too give you exactly what you wanted, "Bet they didn't fuck you like this"

Noel was quickly loosing it, letting out a loud, guttural "Fuck" As he pulled his hips back fully, grabbing you by the forearms, not even giving you time to adjust before he'd dragged you onto the couch with him, moving impossibly fast as he adjusted himself behind you. And then he slammed his hips into yours. He laughed at your bewildered expression, one hand pushing your head down into the cushions once again, the other catching both your hands to pin them behind your back as he immediately started thrusting into you without warning, "Aww, s'it too big for you baby?"

The hand pushing your head down gripped your hair, tugging, harsh. You whined at the force of it, the pain, the pace, how quickly he was moving and forcing you into all these new positions making you dizzy. But not too dizzy to bite back.

"F- Can't fucking feel it"

The hand in your hair tightened. You could practically feel the way his jaw clenched he ragged your head up, leaning his big body over yours to mutter, "Fuckin' bitch"

He slammed your head back down into the cushions, holding you there. His hips seemed to speed up, if that was even possible anymore, now long, sharp thrusts designed to completely incapacitate you, holding you down so he could fuck you how he pleased. "Where's my nice girl gone then?" He spat from above you, hiking your hips up so he could hit even deeper inside of you, every pass of his hips hitting against that spongey spot inside of you. It was almost too much at this point, held down by the absolute force of him, each drive of his hips pushing you even further into the couch, "N-Noel" That's all you could say.

And he was having none of it.

"Shh-shh, pet" he muttered, hips slowing slightly again, "Y'gonna beg?" He asked, too sweet for the way his hips began to speed up once again, "Gotta say it right next time". His hand reaches round again to grab your jaw, turning your head so its strained so you can meet his eyes, watching with bleary gaze as he nods down at you, "What do you have to say to m then?"

"Th-thankyou, daddy" He grinned at that, letting out a soft little coo as he leaned down to press his lips against yours, hips speeding up even more so, lewd slapping sounds resounding around the small studio space, hand gripping your hip to tilt it so he can dig even deeper within your warmth, "There she is" he mutters against your mouth, "Y'gonna cum baby?"

All you can do now is nod, pathetic, unstoppable whimpers drooling from your lips as you try your hardest to keep them locked to his, "What's that sweetheart?" He groans against your mouth.

"Y-yed daddy"

That's all it takes, Noel locks his mouth to yours once again, hand leaving your hips to reach around to circle your clit in a rapid frenzy, "G'na come inside, okay darlin'?" He asks, mouth hot on yours as his dick throbs hard inside of you, signifying he's close to, "We'lll do it together, okay?" He smiles as you nods, speaking for you, "Think y'mean 'yes daddy'"

And that, combined with the harsh grip on your chin, and the sharp snap of his hips into yours finally pushes you over the edge, hips shaking as your walls squeeze around him, wetness dripping down onto the couch. He groans at the feeling of you soaking both his dick and his hand, pressing harshly with two fingers against your clit as he finally spills himself inside of you with a moan that sounds all too much like his own desperate whimper, pushing his lips even harder against yours as he squeezes his eyes shut, "Fuh-fuck, soaking me- fuckin' soaking me darlin'" He moans against your mouth, looking down to see where you're joined, "Feel that? Feel me fucking your belly full of my cum?"

You hardly even have a second to register as he's already flipping you around, hands sliding down your torso as he pull out with a harsh huff of a sigh. Already sliding further down the couch so he can rest facing your core.

And as he begins to clean you up with his tongue. your hands dazily making their way ti grip at his shaggy hair, you can hardly focus on it. There's a quiet buzzing behind you. Somewhere in the daze you find it in yourself to reach back with one hand, finding the source of the noise.

A little black rectangle.

You bring it to your face, a smile crossing your lips as you register the buzzing. Text messages.

Contact - Sara: Hi Noel, I know you ended things, but I can't stop thinking about us

Contact - Sara: If you're not busy, I'd like to talk?

You don't know when, but somewhere along the way you'd learned his password. Through a brief whimper as his soft tongue brushed against your overstimulated clit, you were able to unlock the phone.

Noel: he's busy xx

And unbeknownst to Noel, his ex wife has just received a very shaky, blurry, but unmistakeable picture. Her ex husband between the thighs of the woman she'd been told countless times during the later years of their relationship to never worry about

tag list: @blogbustersii @anjalfc @gxnyadavid @simoneeyy @soerikacanwait @number1princessdianafan @bugbugboy @veruschkaaaa @oasisyearner @beherenowl @lipglossandcigarettes6 @dykwimean @oasisswag @strwbryluver @sonnyangel11 @invinsabel @alicehighflyingbirds @damonalboner @ddirtyshirtt @hernamewasavaline @gallagherish99 @zo-05 @galicantwait @thebestmole @charmlessgrrl @noelsgreystreak @thebestmole @wtsthstrymrnglry