Summary: coming home to Liam restlessly sitting over a song he cannot finish, she decides that bed is the only way out of his misery
Warnings: fluff
Wordcount: 1k
Masterlist, Britpop Masterlist
Every bone in her body felt ready to be wrangled out from beneath her skin the moment she let the door fall into the lock and silence encapsulated her. The wind brushing by her from the force a bit too harsh for a usual afternoon. Kicking her shoes off to the side, bag left abandoned and thrown against the wall, she didn't notice the light coming in from the living room. Guiding her through the dark though not giving out a warning of the pair of sneakers that weren't there when she left the house that morning.
Kicking them further into the light, the beaten-up fabric seemed more familiar to her. Slumping against the doorframe, watching his silhouette sit on her sofa, head thrown back and eyes closed in frustration, the exhaustion seemed to wash away by the simple act of his breathing flowing through her space.
"Don't look at me like that," he tutted without looking up. Sensing her stare on his figure by pure nature and instinct.
Letting his arms fall from covering his eyes, his vision wasn't only flooded by light but also by her. Slowly waltzing over, swaying in a tired manner until she fell close to his side. Head nuzzled into the cushion of the pillow, legs pulled up to her chest. Nudging his thigh with her foot, catching notice of the piece of paper laying in his lap. It was left untouched, a few crossed out sentences decorating the edges but nothing seemed of value to him.
"Noel's been on me arse again," he shrugged. Taking her ankle and softly massaging the tension out of her muscles, wincing every time it cracked under his touch and she sighed in relief. "Going on 'bout how if I want to write it should at least be decent. I'm gonna shove him his decency up his fucking arsehole."
"You're not," she objected him. Eyes already closed, head still with him. "What did you have so far?"
"Nothing," he huffed out. "Been sitting here for over two hours waiting for youse and nothing's come to me mind."
One eye peeked open at the confession he let slip past his lips. "You've been waiting two hours for me?"
"Don't act like that, I've been up waiting for way longer than that. So have you."
"I know," she said. Sitting up, head still heavy as she let it rest close to his shoulder. Taking in his scent as she let her eyes drift over one of the sentences half-hidden behind streaks of blue ink and his anger. "It doesn't sound too bad, regarding that you're not typically the writer."
"I've got nothing to say."
"Everyone's got something to say."
The rain was slowly losing it's patience with the outside world. Growing heavier as the world behind the window fainted from them.
"Maybe you're just too tired to say anything," she offered. Yawning as the words left her mouth, burying her head in his shoulder. Mumbling her next words against the fabric of his shirt. "We should go to bed and you can try it again in the morning when your head's free from Noel being a cunt."
Standing up, slowly dragging him off the sofa and towards her bedroom. Opening the drawer designated for him whenever he stayed over, either knew that what they had wasn't casual anymore. Whatever they were, it was something worth remembering in the future. Handing him over an old shirt he gave her to keep and taking one for herself, they undressed in front of each other like they'd been doing it for years. Liam guiding her to the bathroom by her shoulders when she wanted to fall into bed without having brushed her teeth.
"You'll regret it the moment yer laying in bed, all snuggled up to me and feel the dirt in yer mouth," he said, lips close to her ear. Proving how he knew her better than she knew herself.
Getting her toothbrush ready, handing it over and standing behind her in the mirror. His arms wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling her close to his chest.
"Tried writing about you," he confessed, swaying their bodies to imaginable music. Humming a tune she couldn't recall having ever heard before. "Wanted to do it like Noel does when he tries to get his birds 'round to ignoring how big of a twat he is. Couldn't find the words for you though, love."
"You're not a twat," she retorted, "and you don't need to write me songs for me to stay with you. I'd do it anyway, even if you were still working at that painter thing in Burnage. I don't need you to be more than what you are."
"Still wanted to do something nice for you," he shrugged like her words didn't twist his heart with the most affection anyone ever gave him in the quiet he found himself in one too many times for it to still be uncomfortable. But she made him nervous. She brought the colour from his youth back into his face.
"You don't need to be Noel for me to want you," she said again. Her voice steadier as she looked at him through the reflection in the mirror. Holding his gaze with every word she spoke in honesty. "You can just be Liam with me. You're enough for me."
And he never dared to look away, wanting to make sure that she was still real and not a made up version in his head that was too good to be true. But she was real and she was true and she looked at him like she never wanted to look at anything else again. It made his knees buckle beneath him.
Slipping under the covers in silence, he swore he never held anyone as precious as her and the words for what he wanted to define her as never came as easily as the next morning when she woke to hear him hum beside her in bed. Two pages full with scribblings and ideas.
Summary: Oasis~ a pleasant or peaceful area or period in the midst of a difficult, troubled, or hectic place or situation.
Running a hybrid sanctuary isn’t always be easy, especially not when it specializes in rehabilitating hybrids with physical and mental disabilities. But no matter the challenges you may encounter, the guests you encounter always are a constant reminder that it’s 100% worth it.
Summary: Coming home from a girls trip, Liam wants her to show him what she got
Warnings: slightly suggestive but no actual smut, dirty jokes, female reader, I imagined early 2000 Liam but any version with money to spent works for this
Wordcount: 0.8k
Masterlist, Britpop Masterlist
Lounging in the living room, waiting for the key in the door to bring him back into reality, Liam could hear the rustle of bags and curse words leaving her mouth before she arrived at the top of the stairs.
Jumping up and rushing to help her with carrying her stuff, Liam ripped the door open with a force that almost made her tumble backwards. Shrieking at the pair of arms that wrapped themselves around her in one second and carried her bags up the next. Ushering her inside, he could feel the added weight straining the muscles in his arms.
Setting down her stuff, he tried acting like he hadn't missed her more than anything. Walking over in a casual manner, pulling her against his chest, lips planting themselves a home on top of her head. Walking backwards until his the back of his knees hit the sofa and he made both of them fall onto the cushion.
"There's no way I'm letting ya away for that long ever again," he mumbled, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Pressing gentle kisses against her skin, the bones of her collarbone tensing as his teeth grazed them.
"You're on tour for far longer and I survive that too," she answered, running her hands through his hair. And no matter how unfair it might seem, she had seen so much of the world already from the few times she got time to go with him.
"'s different." Shrugging, he didn't offer a further explanation. Stopping her from arguing by closing her mouth off with his own. Hands trailing down her waist, lifting her hips up to be closer to himself. One leg of hers wrapped itself around his waist, knocking her still shoe-clad foot against his ass to catch his attention away from her body and back to her words.
"How is it any different?" she asked, hands roaming his shoulders, kneading the tension out of his muscles. Reminding him that she was there and wouldn't go in spite of his fears and doubts.
"It just is." Moving from lavishing in her lips to burying himself in her neck, his thought wandered back to the weight added to her bags. "What have yer been spending on? Could feel the pounds added by lifting it for a sec."
"Just some stuff, they had the coolest stores there."
Rolling off of her, still lounging in the cushion with his hands clasped together over his stomach, he nodded to where her suitcase was still standing and waiting to be unpacked. "Show me, wanna see what I'll take off of yer in the future." The grin audible through the tone of his voice.
Shaking her head at his banter, she stood without much rejection. Walking into the hallway and calling out, "I don't have a plan for styling everything yet and some stuff might be unnecessary." Carrying the bag into the living room, placing it in front of the wall-high mirror that stood on the other side of the room.
"As long as yer feeling good, it doesn't matter," Liam quickly cut her off. Listening to the zipper being opened and pieces being tossed around with excitement.
His feet bouncing on the carpet like a little kid waiting for their birthday present. Fingers fidgeting as he could hear her scolding the designer for building in zippers at the back but no pockets. Huffing out the air that she sucked in to reach the little piece of metal that would hold up the fabric, she gave up in a matter of minutes, looking over her shoulder at him. Nudging her head over and Liam's vision went dark for a second from how quickly he stood up.
Standing behind her, brushing her hair over her shoulder for it to not get stuck, he slowly pulled it up. Careful to not pinch her skin or hurt her. Leaving a kiss on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest as he looked over her shoulder into the mirror.
"Yer looking beautiful, love," he muttered, entranced by the sight of her. It happened more often than he wanted to admit but he couldn't help himself when she looked like that.
"I thought, this maybe with the brown boots I have. Those that you gifted me for Christmas last year." Smoothing down the fabric around her hips, she tried having he recall which ones she meant.
"Those with the beats on the side," he mused. Not guessing, just envisioning what she had in mind. "Maybe rather the ones with the silver chains on the ankles, those that go up to yer knees."
Nodding at the thought, she moved enough to give him a hint of her wanting to change into something new. Holding her hair up so he could unzip it again, letting the fabric pool at her ankles before stepping out of it. And suddenly, what started with him wanting to see what she'd got without him, he was reminded of how long he hadn't held her with nothing but bare skin between them.
Summary: dreaming of a fig tree branching out futures she could have had, the one she wants is out of reach until she returns to his door
Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of hurting yourself, reader is dreaming at the beginning, mentions of nightmares, angst, fluff
Wordcount: 1.6k
Masterlist, Britpop Masterlist
Night always came sooner if you wanted to step into the light of day. Yawning and forcing yourself to accept that another day of sun turned into a decade of nothing until everything comes to an end and nothing turns into a devastating truth of wasted potential.
Though nightmares can only come so many times before they aren't scary anymore. That's when they turn hurtful and filled with regret. Dreams are the mirror at the bottom of a wishing well and she drew herself in every night that felt too real to be ignored by make pretend and ecstasy.
Long steady branches stretched out before her as the spotlight lifted from her eyes. Her vision turning blurry at the change of lighting, her eyes hurting from the impact of the sun reflecting in her iris.
Looking around, no one lingered behind bushes, nothing hinted at a haunt or attack. Bombs could fall at any time but she wouldn't be able to tell before they hit her and made her wake with sweat running down her bed.
Stepping closer to the tree, she turned it's fruits from the lower branches in her hand. The hard, smoothed out skin scraping against dead skin peeling from her palm. Drawing blood that made it rot sooner than anticipated by the gardener. She would wake and this dream would be gone and whoever came here after her would see the mess she made and blame her for the bad that occurred when she could do nothing against it.
Being moved by fascination and her limbs rather than her mind, she could feel her heels lifting from the ground, reaching up to pick one where the sun couldn't reach to warm it's seeds. The cold touched her warmth and she pulled back like lightning hit her.
The tree must've been 6 meters tall by what she could make out before the clouds made the top vanish into a higher power. And the higher it got, the more fruits were hanging on the branches. Waiting to be picked, waiting to be chosen and eaten and enjoyed. They called out to her in a voice she couldn't recognize. Foreign futures and impossible dreams. Though somewhere, over the clouds where she saw nothing but what she couldn't reach, a voice broke through that she never thought she would ever hear again.
His voice echoed through the leaves, hers followed and when he told her to look at him the memory came back like an arrow to the heart. Piercing right through her, making her stumble forward to be a little closer to him even when it meant that she was running right into his blade.
Coughing up the past, she tried reaching up to the top of the tree though the chains on her feet caught her before she could jump. The metal scraping her skin, reaching through to her bone until her ankles felt bare and free from any form of discrepancy. She could feel his touch as she held on to one of the branches, pulling her upwards. His lips trailed over her skin as the leaves grew more crowded. Brushing her nerves, pushing them until she tripped over the edge and slipped.
Her feet scraped, bleeding heavier. Dripping from the ball of her foot down on the grass. Red and green, the seasonal decoration crowding her mind. The mistletoe that he bought just to kiss her for the first time. The wrapping paper that he tore because he didn't have the patience for making it look presentable. The slow dancing and flour wars.
Climbing higher and higher she could feel her heart tucking at her chest, reaching out for him. He wasn't there but she felt him all the same. She could see him. The echoes grew louder. His touch more frequent. His hands were all over her. Lips covering every inch of her body.
It almost felt like he was never gone out of her reach.
Though when she let go of the branch to reach out for the fig that called her name in his accent, she felt the last threat rip. Her body falling, never hitting the ground but never flying either. Every fig she passed rot by her presence. And he felt further away then when he closed her door for the final time.
Waking in a sweat, he was still there. Sitting in the corner of her room. The moonlight making him almost seem real.
Burying her head in her hands, she tried banishing him from her mind but Liam Gallagher had always been persistent and so she stripped herself off of any pride that might be left in her misery.
Pulling her coat tighter around herself as she walked down streets she avoided until now. Too many memories that still held his face for her to walk down sane. The light in his apartment was out, darkness telling her that it wasn't worth it. That he wouldn't answer or be up to something she didn't want to know. The hallways echoed her fears as she stepped up each stair. The concrete walls drawing in on her as she saw his door. The numbers blurring together.
The bell sounded as awful as the first time she rang it. Her complaints that she mumbled against his lips when he opened the door coming down the stairs, greeting her. She knew she should go home but no dream had ever felt as real as the one where she lost him for good and no amount of voices could convince her that this was how they should end.
The door creaked open, Liam's eyes were still shut against the harsh light. "This better be a fucking emergency," he mumbled, not looking up to see who was standing at his door at this hour.
"I dreamed of you."
He recognized her voice before he could catch up to what she told him. His hand stopped moving from sheltering his eyes, his breath hitched at the back of his throat and for a moment he was sure that this was just another dream where she told him how much he fucked it up and would settle the blame on him. But the slight waver in her tone was new and natural, the shifting of her feet was anxious and nothing felt made up.
Hollow eyes lifted to reach her sight. Mouth slightly agape, making his bottom lip pull further into her presence. The focus in her gaze shifting down to the plum, soft sight of sleep and despair on his lips.
Before he could ask her inside she continued talking, "It seems like no reason to come see you after I haven't done the same with every other dream I had of you but this one was different. You were the future I wanted but never could have and something about that realization outside of reality made me feel like the day you stepped out of my apartment for the final time. And it's foolish to be here, I know, but I need you to know that you are a future I see and wanna reach but I can't do that if you don't reach for me too."
It was the argument they had before it all fell apart. His constant fear of not being enough taking over his love for her. The renegade inside his mind running laps until he had outrun his common sense. He wanted her just as she wanted him but he was convinced that whatever he could give could never be enough to satisfy her. So he left.
And a part of her that she left with him decided to stay in his palm.
Silence stretched into a numbing ring in her ear. The sun bleeding into darkness behind his figure that still stood in the doorway. Rigid and frozen by her words.
"I know that you said you don't have more than what I already know about you but I don't need more than that. I don't need grand surprises or big personas. I don't need a front cover of some posh magazine to hold your face and name in bold letters. I don't need a thousand voices screaming your name to know that I love you. I know that when I wake up beside you in the morning and when you make those awful jokes that no one finds funny but they still make me laugh. I know it when you try to keep me from cooking dinner because you feel useless beside me when I do it and I put on a song that makes you sing and dance with me. I know it when you tell me that you love me too."
Taking her hand in his, he pulled her inside. Closing the door, leaning against it and caressing her knuckles with his thumb. His heartbeat treating through his fingertips into her pulse.
"I didn't mean to leave and not come back. I wanted to come back, I really did. But somewhere between leaving your place and closing the door to mine I was very convinced that you hated me so I let you have your peace instead of being bothered by me again," he confessed. The darkness bringing out the honesty in his voice. "I love you. I never want to leave again and let you get out of my reach."
Tucking her close, the fig on top of the tree fell down as she hit the ground. Laying in the grass, looking up. It fell next to her just in reach to grab it and take a bite of what the future tastes like. It was sweet, a bit sour at first but the juice dripped down her throat like honey. Blood rushed to her face, her lip balm mixing with his spit as their mouths met.
