Untouchable Part Two - (Beadyeye/DILF Liam Gallagher x Reader)
Warnings : Fluff, Swearing, Angst
Let me know if you want another part!
The weeks after that morning at Liam’s blurred into a strange sort of routine. Not domestic but steady, something neither of them had expected. Most mornings began the same: Y/N perched on the edge of the studio couch with her laptop, coffee in hand, running through schedules, while Liam shuffled in, hair a mess, muttering about needing tea before doing anything else. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she teased once, echoing his own jab from that first breakfast. “Oi, that’s my line,” he shot back, pointing his mug at her. “Stealing my material now, cheeky.”
In the studio, Liam was sharper than he had been in years, though still prone to drifting. More often than not, those distractions were sat a few feet away, her brow furrowed at her laptop. He’d catch himself watching her instead of listening back to takes, until Bonehead would cut in:
“You recording a track, mate, or staring holes in your manager’s head?” “Shut it,” Liam grumbled, though the smirk gave him away. Jet trips became more frequent as producer meetings and recording sessions pulled them between Manchester and London. On one flight, Y/N was sat in the middle cabin with Lennon and Gene, both lads loud and restless.
“So, Y/N,” Lennon started, leaning back with a grin, “how d’you put up with him every day? You deserve a medal.” “Oi,” Liam called from further up the cabin, “don’t you start.” “She probably keeps earplugs in,” Gene added. “Noise-cancelling ones,” Y/N said with a laugh. “Best investment of my career.”
The boys cracked up, and even Liam couldn’t stop a smile tugging at his mouth. Bonehead leaned across the aisle, muttering, “She’s got them sussed already. Might be better at handling your kids than you are.”
“Yeah, well,” Liam muttered back, “they’ve got her wrapped round their little fingers.” Bonehead smirked. “Funny. Thought that was your situation.” Liam swatted him, but didn’t deny it.
Later, when the cabin finally quieted down, Y/N fell asleep against the window, laptop still open. Liam glanced back more than once, watching her breathe evenly, music faintly audible from her headphones. For someone who was always on the go she looked far too peaceful. It wasn’t official. Not by a long shot. But in the routine of late nights, jet trips, studio sessions, and sleepy mornings, Liam and Y/N had become fixtures in each other’s lives. And everyone around them was starting to notice.
The day had dragged on. Hours of recording, rewinding, arguing with producers, and still, Liam wasn’t satisfied. By the time the session wrapped, the studio was quiet except for the hum of Y/N’s laptop keys. “Come on then,” Liam muttered, slinging his coat over his shoulder. She didn’t look up. “You heading home?” “Yeah. And so are you.” That made her pause. She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got emails to finish.” “They’ll still be there tomorrow,” he shot back. “C’mon. Dinner. My place.” Her laugh was soft, skeptical. “You cooking?” “’Course I am. I’m not completely useless.” He smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Better than you lot think.”
By the time they got to his flat, Y/N wasn’t sure if she believed him. And when she saw the kitchen counter a chopping board, half a packet of pasta, and a saucepan that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years she knew for certain. “This is your grand plan?” she teased, tossing her bag on the sofa. “Oi, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. You’re lookin’ at a culinary genius here.” “Yeah, Michelin star for effort, maybe.” They bickered while he cooked Liam grumbling at the instructions, Y/N laughing every time he nearly dropped something. Eventually, he presented her with two steaming bowls of pasta, looking far too proud of himself.
“It’s edible,” she admitted after a bite, raising her glass of wine. “Congratulations.” “See? Told ya. Knew you doubted me.” “I had every reason to.” For a while, the conversation was light, full of teasing remarks and stories from the studio. But somewhere between a refill of wine and Liam leaning back in his chair, the mood shifted. “You ever think I’m mad for doin’ this?” he asked suddenly, voice quieter than usual. Y/N tilted her head. “Doing what?” “Starting all over. Solo. After everything. Beady Eye, Oasis, all the… shit.” He gestured vaguely. “Sometimes feels like I’ve got nowt left to prove, and other times feels like I’ve got everything to lose.” She softened, setting her glass down. “You’ve got a lot left, Liam. More than most. And people still want to hear you trust me, I see it every day.” He met her eyes, something flickering there, softer than his usual bravado. “Yeah, well. Good job I’ve got you keepin’ me in line, eh?” “Someone’s got to,” she teased gently, but her smile lingered.
Dinner stretched late into the evening, the edges blurring into something that felt almost like a date though neither of them said it.
For a moment, his bravado cracked. He leaned back, running a hand across his mouth, eyes dropping to the table. “Dunno what I’d be doin’ if you weren’t here, you know. Probably still on the piss every night.” “You’d figure it out,” she said softly. He looked back up at her, a flicker of something gentler in his eyes. “Yeah, well. Glad I don’t have to.”
The silence stretched not awkward, not strained, but full of something unspoken. Finally, Y/N smiled, breaking it with a quip. “Careful, Gallagher. You’re starting to sound sentimental.” “Oi, don’t tell anyone,” he said quickly, smirking as he lifted his glass. “Would ruin me reputation.” They clinked glasses, and for the first time in a long time, Liam felt lighter not because of the wine, but because of the woman sat across from him, laughing at his jokes and steadying his doubts without even trying.
The next day, the studio was already buzzing when Y/N walked in Bonehead tuning up, producers fiddling with knobs, Liam pacing like a restless cat with a pen in his hand. He barely looked up when she set her bag down. “You’re late,” he muttered. “I’m five minutes early,” she corrected, glancing at the clock. “You’re just impatient.” “Same thing,” he smirked, finally sitting and scribbling a line onto the page in front of him. Y/N pulled out her laptop, ready to catch up on emails, but it wasn’t long before Liam’s muttering pulled her focus. He scratched out a line, rewrote it, then tossed the pen aside with a groan. “This is bollocks,” he grumbled. “Nothin’ fits. Sounds daft.”
“Everything sounds daft at first,” she said lightly without looking up. He snapped his head toward her. “Oh yeah? You an expert now?” “Maybe.” She finally glanced up, meeting his glare with a smirk. “Or maybe I just know you’re too stubborn to leave it alone long enough for it to actually work.” Bonehead snorted from the corner. “She’s got you sussed, mate.” “Shut it,” Liam shot back, though his grin betrayed him. For the next hour, he wrestled with lyrics, humming half-formed melodies under his breath. Y/N stayed quiet, tapping away at her laptop until he groaned again, tossing the pen onto the table. “Go on then,” he muttered, eyes flicking to her. “What’s it missin’, genius?”
She raised a brow. “I wasn’t listening.” “Bollocks, you’re always listenin’.” Caught, she sighed, leaning over the notebook. “You’re overthinking it. Stop trying to make it sound clever and just say what you mean. What’s the actual point of the song?” Liam blinked at her, then looked back at the page. He scribbled something quickly, muttering the line under his breath. For the first time all day, his face lit up. “…Not bad,” he admitted, glancing sideways at her. “Not bad?” she echoed with a laugh. “You’re welcome.”
“Alright, don’t get cocky. One decent idea doesn’t make you Lennon and McCartney.” “Relax,” she shot back, smirking. “I don’t want your job.” But Bonehead caught the way Liam looked at her after that, something softer flickering in his expression before he ducked his head and kept writing. For the rest of the session, Y/N went back to her laptop, but Liam kept sneaking glances the spark she’d given him still buzzing in the air.
The hum of the engines filled the cabin, a steady background to the chaos inside. Liam had flights pretty regular to producers and publishers ahead of his solo career launch. Y/N sat at the table with her laptop open, phone buzzing every few minutes, her focus unshakable. Across from her, Liam had a notebook in hand, though the page was still mostly blank. He wasn’t watching the paper. He was watching her. She was multitasking juggling emails, checking the itinerary, and snapping at Lennon to quit stealing Gene’s headphones all without missing a beat.
“Liam,” she said suddenly, not even looking up, “your meeting tomorrow is at eleven, not half twelve. Don’t argue with me.” He smirked. “Didn’t say a word, love.” “You were about to.” “Wasn’t.” Bonehead snorted. “She’s got you nailed, mate.” Lennon leaned over the seat in front, grinning. “She’s scarier than your old managers, Dad. Respect.” “Scarier, but fit,” Gene added, earning himself a swat from Lennon. “Oi,” Liam snapped, glaring at both boys. “Hands off. She’s here to work, not listen to you two mugs.” Y/N rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with a smile. “Thanks, boss. Very professional.” The lads laughed, but Bonehead leaned back with a sly look. “You’re one to talk about professional, Gallagher. When’s the last time you even looked at that notebook instead of her?” “Shut it,” Liam muttered, flipping a page like he’d been working hard all along.
But he didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. His head had been half on the songs and half on the woman across the table, tapping her pen against her lips while she thought. She had a way of pulling the whole room into orbit without even trying. Y/N caught him staring once, raising a brow. “What?” “Nothin’,” Liam said quickly, eyes dropping to his blank page. “Right,” she said slowly, like she didn’t believe a word. The jet rumbled through turbulence, laughter filling the cabin again, but Liam stayed quiet, chin in hand, pretending to focus on lyrics. Every so often his eyes flicked back to her, and every time, Bonehead shook his head with that smug grin that drove him mad.
The day was going nowhere fast. Liam had been pacing the studio like a caged animal, muttering insults at the monitors, snapping at every suggestion. The sound engineer looked ready to quit. “Maybe take a breather,” Bonehead offered carefully. “I don’t need a bleedin’ breather, I need a track that doesn’t sound like shit!” Liam barked. Y/N closed her laptop with a sharp snap. “Alright, enough. You’re running yourself in circles, Liam. Just step back for an hour.” He spun on her, eyes blazing. “What d’you know about it, eh? You’re not the one in the booth. You’re not the one people are waitin’ to hear. You’re just sat there tappin’ on your laptop, playin’ boss when you’ve got no fuckin’ clue!” The words landed like a slap. Bonehead froze, the engineer looked away, and Y/N stood very still, her face unreadable.
Finally, she exhaled, calm but firm. “Right. You’ve made your point. I’ll leave you to it.” She grabbed her bag and moved for the door. Before he could say anything, she stopped and added quietly, “I’ll come back tomorrow, when you’re ready to actually listen.” The door clicked shut behind her, and silence swallowed the room. Liam stood there, chest heaving, rage draining as quickly as it had flared. Bonehead finally shifted, arms crossed. “Nice one, mate. Real smooth.” “Shut it,” Liam muttered, dropping heavily into a chair. But the edge in his voice had gone he sounded smaller somehow, deflated. Bonehead watched him for a long moment, then said, “You know she’s the only one who’s kept you steady through all this, right? Don’t push her off just ‘cause you’re in a mood.” Liam ran a hand over his face, groaning into his palms. “I didn’t mean it like that. She’s… she’s the only one who’s been here proper. Just—sometimes it gets too much.” “Then tell her that,” Bonehead said simply. “Before she decides she’s had enough of this circus.” Liam didn’t answer. He just stared at the door Y/N had walked out of, jaw tight, regret already gnawing at him.
The next morning, Y/N arrived at the studio exactly on time. Not a minute early, not a minute late. Laptop in one hand, coffee in the other. “Morning,” she said evenly, setting her things down at the console. Her tone was polite but flat, as though addressing any other client. “Morning,” Liam muttered, his voice rough from a night of no sleep. Normally, she’d have teased him about looking like death warmed over, or nudged a second coffee his way. Today, she didn’t so much as glance in his direction. She just opened her laptop, ran through her emails, and began talking them through the day’s schedule. “You’ve got an interview lined up for the weekend piece. Travel to London tomorrow, rehearsal slot in the afternoon, dinner with the label at eight. Producer wants another round on the new track Tuesday. Studio’s booked.”
It was efficient, crisp, businesslike. Not once did she smile, not once did she look up long enough for him to catch her eye. Bonehead sat back, arms crossed, watching the two of them like it was a play. “Don’t you usually start the day with a laugh, Y/N?” he asked casually. “I start the day with the agenda,” she replied without missing a beat, eyes still on her laptop. That shut him up. Liam slouched further in his chair, muttering under his breath. He hated it, hated how she could treat him like any other client, hated how she was so untouchable when he was the one who’d messed it all up. When she finally stood to grab a folder from her bag, he tried. “Y/N, about yesterday—” “Not now,” she cut in smoothly. “We’ve got too much to get through.”
He shut his mouth. For the rest of the day, she remained perfectly polite, perfectly distant. Every instruction was clear, every correction professional. She was there in body, but the warmth the spark that had carried him through the last few weeks was gone. By the time evening came, Liam was already on edge, stewing in the quiet space she’d left between them.
The restaurant was the kind of place that made Liam uncomfortable: chandeliers, white tablecloths, staff in pressed suits. He tugged at the collar of his shirt like it was choking him. “Stop fidgeting,” Y/N said lightly, straightening his tie before he could swat her hand away. Her touch was brisk, efficient, but it still sent a jolt through him. “You look fine. Try not to scowl at anyone important.” “I don’t scowl,” Liam muttered. “You do,” she said, already walking toward the private dining room. “All the time.”
Inside, label executives, producers, and assorted industry faces were already mingling. Y/N slipped into professional mode immediately polite smiles, quick introductions, moving Liam from handshake to handshake before he could sabotage the moment. “This is Liam Gallagher,” she said with her best manager’s polish. “Solo project’s already building serious interest.” Liam smirked at the exec, shaking his hand. “You’ll be tellin’ people you knew me before the comeback.” The man laughed, charmed. Y/N gave him a look that said don’t push it. As they sat down, Liam found himself watching Y/N more than anyone else. She carried the conversation with ease, fielding questions about scheduling, budgets, press. Every so often she leaned toward him to clarify a date or a name, her voice low, calm. Then she’d pull back again, slipping into her own orbit.
Halfway through the meal, a young label rep claimed the seat beside her. He leaned in, grin wide. “So, you’re the one keeping this lad in line?” Y/N smiled politely. “Someone has to.” Liam narrowed his eyes across the table. “Oi, I can hear you, y’know.” The rep chuckled. “I mean it, though. You’ve done a brilliant job. The buzz is everywhere.”
“Appreciate that,” Y/N replied smoothly. She glanced at her phone, then back at the table. “There’s still a long road ahead.” The rep kept talking, throwing compliments her way, clearly enjoying her company. She humoured him, nodding, laughing politely at his jokes, but never gave him anything more. Still, Liam felt his jaw tighten with every word.
He leaned toward Bonehead. “Look at him, actin’ like he’s got a chance.” Bonehead sipped his wine. “He’s just talkin’, mate.” “He’s flirtin’.” Bonehead grinned. “You’d know, wouldn’t ya?” Liam shot him a glare, but Bonehead just chuckled into his glass. When dessert arrived, the rep leaned closer to Y/N again. “So, d’you ever get sick of babysitting rockstars?” Y/N arched a brow. “I manage artists. Not children.” The table laughed, even Liam though his laugh was edged with pride. That was Y/N: sharp, clever, untouchable. After the plates were cleared, she excused herself to take a call. Liam followed a minute later, catching her in the corridor by the coat stand, phone still in her hand.
“You don’t have to sit there entertainin’ muppets like him,” Liam said, hands shoved in his pockets. “Bloke was practically droolin’ in his soup.” Y/N hung up, sliding her phone into her bag. Her eyes were cool when they met his. “It’s part of the job, Liam. Making people feel heard. Even muppets.” “It’s not right, though.” “What’s not right,” she said evenly, “is you tearing me down in the studio yesterday and then acting like you’ve got the right to be protective today. You don’t get it both ways.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, voice still calm but firm. “I’m your manager. That’s it. Tonight was business. Don’t make it anything else.” With that, she turned back toward the dining room, leaving him standing in the hall, fists tight in his pockets, regret curdling in his chest.
The weeks leading up to the launch were a blur of rehearsals, interviews, and studio tweaks. On the surface, everything was running smoothly. Y/N kept the train on the tracks, every deadline met, every potential crisis handled before it even reached Liam. But underneath, there was tension. Everyone could feel it. Bonehead had clocked it days ago the way Liam’s eyes followed Y/N across a room, the way Y/N’s smiles never quite reached her eyes anymore. Lennon and Gene joked about how she was the only one who could keep their dad in line, but even they noticed how sharp the air got whenever the two of them were left alone.
One late evening in the studio, after the others had left, Y/N was packing up her laptop while Liam lingered in the booth. He came out slowly, dragging his feet, clearly not ready to call it a night. “You’ve not cracked a proper smile in weeks,” he said suddenly, leaning against the doorframe. Y/N didn’t look up from her bag. “I’m working. Smiling’s not in the job description.” “Bollocks. You used to laugh at my jokes.” “You used to respect my time.” That one landed. He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably. “Look, about that day… I was outta line.” “You were,” she agreed calmly, still not meeting his eyes. “But I’m not here to hold grudges, Liam. I’m here to do my job. That’s all.” Her tone was steady, professional but the distance in it made his chest ache.
He took a step closer. “Feels like you’re keepin’ me at arm’s length now.” “Maybe I am,” she said, finally glancing at him. Her gaze was cool, unreadable. “You’ve got a lot riding on this launch. The last thing you need is… distractions.” “Is that what I am to you? A distraction?” he asked, half cocky, half wounded. “You’re the artist I manage,” she replied evenly, though there was the faintest crack in her voice. She slung her bag over her shoulder and moved for the door before he could push further.Bonehead appeared in the hall as she left, giving Liam a look. “You’re gonna drive yourself mental if you don’t sort this out.” “She doesn’t want me to sort it out,” Liam muttered. Bonehead sighed. “Then you’d better hope the launch distracts everyone else. ‘Cause it’s written all over your face.”
The venue was packed, cameras flashing as fans spilled into the streets. Liam’s solo launch had been hyped for weeks, the kind of comeback the press loved to circle like vultures. Backstage, the air was charged. Techs ran cables, Bonehead tuned up, Lennon and Gene loitered by the dressing-room door. Liam sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees, pretending to stretch but really just trying to steady himself. Y/N stood by the door with her clipboard, headset tucked against her jaw, rattling off timings to the promoter. She looked calm, composed, in control like always. And she didn’t look at him once.
“Oi, love,” Liam called. She glanced up. “Five minutes, then stage.” “That all I get? No good luck?” “You don’t need luck,” she said, already turning back to her notes. The dismissal stung more than it should. Onstage, the crowd was deafening, the lights blinding. Liam gripped the mic, spitting the words like it was second nature and it was. But his eyes kept drifting to the side-stage, where Y/N stood with her arms crossed, headset on, professional to the core. Every cheer, every chant of his name, every flash of a camera it should have been enough. But he wanted her eyes on him, not the running order in her hands. Bonehead caught him staring mid-song, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. Liam barked a laugh into the mic, covering it with a growled ad-lib, but his chest was tight.
The set ended in thunderous applause. Backstage was chaos congratulations, champagne, pats on the back. Y/N was right there in the middle of it, taking notes, giving instructions, making sure interviews were lined up. Liam shoved through the crowd until it was just the two of them near the quieter end of the corridor. “Well?” he asked, still buzzing, sweat sticking his fringe to his forehead. “You were great,” she said with a small smile. Professional. Distant. “Just great?” He leaned closer, grin cocky, but his eyes searching hers. She held his gaze, unflinching. “Exactly what you needed to be tonight.”
The words were steady, but the air between them wasn’t. His pulse raced, and for a second he swore she felt it too. Her hand brushed his arm as she adjusted the backstage pass clipped to his shirt, an innocent move but it lingered. Neither of them spoke. The noise of the crowd filtered faintly from the other end of the hall, but here it was quiet, charged. Finally, she stepped back, breaking the spell. “Press is waiting. Don’t make them wait, Liam.” She turned, heels clicking away, leaving him standing there with applause still ringing in his ears — and the sinking realisation that none of it compared to the look she wouldn’t give him.
The press tour had been non-stop. Liam thrived on chaos, but even he was fraying at the edges. Y/N, immaculate as ever, ran the schedule with the precision of a general — clipboard in hand, headset on, eyes sharp, voice clipped. But every time Liam saw her, the air between them burned hotter, unspoken words piling up like explosives.
Bonehead sat on the edge of the hotel bed, scrolling through his phone, sensing the storm brewing. Liam stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. “You’ve got somethin’ to say or what?” he barked at Y/N, his jaw tight. Y/N didn’t flinch. “I’m working,” she said, voice icy. “You’re late for soundcheck, and if you don’t get your head in the game” “Don’t! Don’t tell me what to do!” Liam snapped, spinning on her. “I don’t need you, or anyone, actin’ like I’m some kid who can’t handle a bloody schedule!” Bonehead raised an eyebrow. “Oi, calm it—”
“Get out!” Liam roared, and Bonehead’s eyes went wide. “Just go!” Bonehead hesitated, then shook his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he muttered, leaving the room. The click of the door made Y/N flinch even Liam noticed.
The silence stretched. Then Liam advanced, voice low and dangerous. “You’ve got somethin’ to say, don’t you?” Y/N folded her arms, standing her ground. “You’re impossible, Liam. You don’t see what you’re doing to yourself — to me. You think you’re clever, running hot and cold, acting like you don’t need anyone. But you’re scared. And you take it out on me.” Liam’s chest heaved. “Scared? Of what?” he growled, taking another step. “Of sayin’ how I feel?” “You’ve been a dick, Liam! A proper dick!” she shot back, voice rising. “You cut me down in front of everyone that day in the studio and now you act like I owe you my patience?”“Because I care!” he shouted, the heat finally breaking through his usual cocky facade. “I care and I can’t help it! You’re the only one who sees me for what I am, and all you do is keep me at arm’s length like I’m poison!”
Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, it looked like she might cry or yell louder. “I can’t fix this with words, Liam. I can’t babysit your feelings and pretend it’s all fine. I—” “I don’t want fine!” he yelled, running a hand through his hair, frustrated and raw. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first day you started keeping me from falling apart! And I don’t care if you think I’m a nightmare I’m not gonna hide it anymore!” The room was thick with tension. She shook her head, stepping back. “You don’t get to just yell and expect it to fix things. You’ve got to show me you mean it, Liam. Actions. Not words. Not this,” she gestured between them, “angry shouting that leaves us both exhausted.” He stopped, chest heaving, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I’ll prove it. Every damn day if I have to.” Y/N’s expression softened, but her walls didn’t crumble. “Then… prove it. But not tonight. Not with words. Just… show me.”
The morning sun cut through the curtains of the Paris hotel, but Liam barely noticed. The argument from the night before lingered, heavy and sharp, and Y/N hadn’t replied to any of his messages. That only made him more determined. Words hadn’t worked; he needed actions. By the time they reached the first radio station, Liam was already plotting how to show her he meant what he’d said. During the interview, the host asked about his team, and without thinking, Liam’s eyes found Y/N across the room. He smiled at her, letting the cameras catch it. “Couldn’t have done any of this without Y/N keeping me sane,” he said, casual yet deliberate. He caught the flash of surprise in her eyes, the smallest twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
In the car between venues, Liam slid into the front seat beside her. He teased her about her playlist a mix of pop and guilty pleasures she usually tried to hide and made her laugh, rare and genuine. For once, he didn’t talk about schedules or deadlines, didn’t critique or correct. He just listened, chuckled, and let the conversation drift wherever it went. Backstage, he left little things for her: a coffee waiting just the way she liked it, her favorite snack tucked onto her chair, a folded hoodie left casually on the arm of the sofa. He even stepped in subtly when a persistent fan tried to corner her for an autograph, offering a grin that said, I’ve got your back. By evening, Y/N found herself walking a little taller, catching his gaze more often, letting herself relax around him though she’d never admit it. Later, after interviews and fan events, she was in the hotel lounge, laptop open, headset dangling, immersed in work. Liam slid into the chair opposite her, leaning back with his usual cocky grin, though his eyes held something softer.
“You’re quiet,” he said, nodding toward her screen. “Trying to get through my work,” she replied, voice clipped, avoiding eye contact. “Right… but I notice you,” he said, leaning closer, low enough that only she could hear. “Not just because you run my life, but because… you matter.” For a heartbeat, she froze, her hands hovering over the keyboard. “Actions, Liam. Not words,” she said, her tone steady, professional. He smirked, sliding his hand under the table to brush hers lightly. “Actions,” he murmured, voice rougher than usual. “You’re gonna see them.” For the first time in weeks, Y/N allowed herself the faintest, almost imperceptible smile. The battle wasn’t over, not entirely — but Liam was serious. And maybe, just maybe, she could start letting him in.
The hotel room was quiet. The press team had left for the evening, and the glow of the city lights spilled through the curtains. Y/N sat at the desk, laptop open, headset around her neck, typing the last emails of the day. Liam stood by the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching her. “You’re still at it?” he asked, voice low. “I’ve got a few things to finish,” she replied without looking up. “Then I’m going to bed.” She closed the laptop, sliding it aside. “I mean it. I’m exhausted.” Liam took a step closer, his usual cocky grin gone, replaced by something softer, something raw. “Y/N… I need to tell you something.” She looked up, brow slightly furrowed. “Now?” “Yes. Now,” he said, voice catching. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before stopping in front of her. “I’ve been an idiot. A stubborn, arrogant idiot. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this… like I don’t feel you.”
Her heart started to race. “Liam…” “No, you need to hear it,” he said, taking a breath, eyes intense. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you for months. I try to act like I don’t, try to hide it behind being a prat, behind cocky jokes and bad moods… but it’s there. Every day, every moment. I wake up thinking about you, I go to sleep thinking about you, and I can’t stop. I just… I love you.” She froze, words caught in her throat. Her professional walls, her careful control everything faltered under the weight of his honesty. “I’m not asking for anything,” he added quickly, voice softer now. “I just… I needed you to know. Because I can’t do this pretending anymore. You’ve saved me in ways I can’t explain, and I can’t keep holding back what I feel for you.”
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then Y/N’s lips curved into the faintest, almost unintentional smile. Her voice was low, tentative. “I… didn’t realize you felt that strongly.” “I do,” he said, stepping closer, the vulnerability in his eyes mirrored in hers. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. And I… I want you to know, I’m not going anywhere.” She swallowed hard, her heart pounding, and for the first time, let herself meet him halfway. “Liam… I think I might feel the same.” A slow, relieved smile spread across his face. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.” She shook her head, laughing softly despite herself. “I think I might have an idea.” And in the quiet glow of the hotel room, with the city buzzing far below, they let themselves finally be honest no walls, no games. Just them, and the undeniable truth between them.
