you were a producer for oasis. everyone knew this.. you lived clubbing, drinking and generally being around them. until you saw him. damon. the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met in your life. those piercing blue eyes. the soft dirty blonde hair and a toothy grin you could see from a mile away. so you snuck away from the gallaghers and decided to have some fun. one thing led to another and you blacked out.

your in a dark flat. the room smelling of sex and regret as you stirred. your lipstick stained, your head throbbing with a pain you didnt even know existed, the taste of beer all inside your mouth and a flavour you didnt recognise. you cocked your head to the figure next to you. damon, shirtless, the cover hiding the bottom part of his body. lipstick stains that far down you didnt want to admit, your shoulders ached like someone bit them, and to be fair he probably did. your eyes stinging from dried mascara. you needed to find a bathroom.. so you got up and wandered until you found a room that looked alot like a bathroom door. so you open it and start cleaning your face with wet loo roll until you hear a soft groggy voice.

“theres facial cleaner in the cabinet, oasis gyal..” he says, he was a poshie. londoner, thick accent, lots of money. his bathroom smelt like citrus too. “do you want a brew before you fuck off, sweatheart?” he grinned.