ev3rwh0re

[ev3rwh0re]

Black and White - Part 2

Masterlist

As One Direction’s hair and makeup artist, you’ve always had a flirty friendship with Niall. But one wild night in Las Vegas changes everything when you wake up married—and management insists you stay that way. Will you keep hiding your feelings, or finally admit there’s more than friendship between you?

Tags: Niall x reader, friends to lovers, forced proximity, fluff, kinda slow burn

Part 1 | Part 3 - coming soon

You wake up slowly, your head still fuzzy from sleep—and maybe the lingering effects of last night’s drinks. The first thing you notice is warmth, the kind that makes you want to burrow deeper into it and never leave.

And then you realize the warmth is coming from Niall.

Your eyes snap open, and sure enough, there he is, his face mere inches from yours, his arm draped snugly over your waist. Your legs are tangled together, and his hand—his hand is resting on your hip.

Your breath hitches as you try to make sense of the situation. You promised—promised—last night that you’d both stick to your own sides of the bed.

Clearly, that didn’t last long.

You’re just about to wiggle out from under his arm when he stirs, pulling you a fraction closer.

“Mm,” he mumbles, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep. His lips brush lightly against your hair as he murmurs, “Mornin’, love.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze, unsure what to do. This is...way too cozy.

“Uh...morning,” you manage, your voice embarrassingly weak.

“Sleep alright?” he asks, his arm tightening just a little, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You try to keep your voice steady as you respond. “I—uh, yeah. You?”

“Best I’ve slept in years,” he replies, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You groan internally. Of course he’d say that.

“Niall,” you hiss, keeping your voice low so as not to wake the entire floor. “We talked about this. We said we’d stay on our own sides!”

He cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy grin. “Yeah, but your side looked lonely. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not break the rules we literally set last night,” you say, trying—and failing—to wriggle out of his hold.

“Rules, shmules,” he says with a yawn, resting his chin against the top of your head. “C’mon, admit it. You were just as comfy as I was.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can say anything, there’s a sudden knock on the door.

Before you can react, the door swings open, and in strides Louis.

“Oi, you two,” he says without looking up, “Breakfast downstairs—” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes locking on the two of you tangled up in the bed.

His face splits into a wide grin, “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You and Niall spring apart so fast you nearly tumble off the bed, and Louis cackles, leaning against the doorframe.

“I knew it!” he crows, his voice practically echoing in the room. “You lot couldn’t even make it 24 hours without—”

“Louis, shut up,” you snap, your face burning.

“What? I’m just saying,” he says, holding his hands up innocently, though his grin betrays him. “This fake marriage thing might not be so fake after all.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Niall says, though his easy tone makes it clear he’s not bothered in the slightest.

“Right,” Louis says, smirking as he backs toward the door. “Anyway, breakfast downstairs in fifteen, so maybe get yourselves...untangled by then.” He winks at you both before closing the door behind him.

You bury your face in your hands with a groan. “I can’t believe this.”

“What’s there to believe?” Niall says, his grin audible in his voice. “We were just cuddling. Happens all the time, right?”

You glare at him, but your heart betrays you with its rapid thudding.

“No,” you mutter. “This doesn’t happen. Ever.”

“Well,” he says with a shrug, standing up and stretching, “maybe it should.”

You groan again, standing and grabbing your things. “I’m taking the first shower. Don’t follow me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, though the smirk on his face suggests otherwise.

As you close the bathroom door behind you, you lean against it, exhaling sharply.

The warmth of his arm around you lingers, and you hate how much you liked it.

…

You walk into the hotel dining room, doing your best to appear composed despite the lingering embarrassment from that morning. The air is thick with the smell of coffee and pancakes, but the low buzz of conversation stills the moment you and Niall step through the door.

“Oh, look who decided to grace us with their presence,” Louis announces loudly, his grin already reaching his ears.

You glance at Niall, who just shrugs, as if to say, Might as well get it over with.

“You know, you didn’t have to rush out of bed,” Harry quips, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Bet it was cozy,” Liam adds, smirking into his mug.

Lottie sits next to Louis, her chin propped in her hand as she studies the two of you. “Good morning, newlyweds. Sleep well?”

You groan and drop into a seat across from her, grabbing the nearest cup of coffee to hide your burning cheeks. “Can we not?”

“Nope,” Louis says, leaning forward with a gleeful smile. “You’re officially the most entertaining part of this tour.”

“Is that why you barged into our room this morning?” Niall retorts, his tone sharp but playful. “Couldn’t wait to see what trouble you could stir up?”

“You were cuddling,” Louis says simply, as if it’s the most obvious justification in the world.

“We were not—”

“You were,” Niall cuts in, his voice steady but teasing. “And it wasn’t bad, was it?”

You whip your head toward him, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t start,” you mutter, but the way his smirk deepens tells you he already knows he’s won.

“Alright, alright,” Harry says, raising a hand as if to settle things. “Let’s move on to the important stuff—like figuring out how you’re both going to survive this circus you’ve created.”

“We didn’t create it,” you argue, shooting him a glare.

“True,” Lottie says with a laugh. “But you’re living it now. How’s that going for you?”

Before you can answer, the table erupts in laughter, leaving you wondering how you’re going to get through breakfast without losing your mind—or your carefully constructed walls.

Zayn slides into the seat next to Lottie, his eyes darting between you and Niall with an unreadable expression. “You two are impossible,” he mutters, barely looking up from his phone.

“Tell me about it,” Louis says, winking at you. “Can’t even pretend anymore.”

You shoot him a warning glare, but it only makes him laugh harder.

“You two were practically glued together last night at the concert,” Liam adds, his voice teasing but with a softness you didn’t expect. “Didn’t help that everyone could see it.”

Niall shrugs, unconcerned. “So? It’s not like we’ve got anything to hide, right?” His eyes flick to you for a second, warm with that familiar playfulness, but there’s something else there too—a quiet confidence you can’t ignore.

You force a smile, feeling the walls you’ve spent so long building up start to crumble. “Sure. No big deal,” you mumble, hoping they can’t see right through you.

“Don’t pretend like it’s no big deal,” Harry says, his voice a little too knowing. “You two have been dancing around each other for ages. It’s only a matter of time before you admit what we’ve all known.”

You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “You don’t know anything.”

“Actually,” Zayn cuts in, still focused on his phone, “we do. But it’s not like you’ll admit it anytime soon.”

“Exactly,” Lottie says, glancing between you and Niall. “We’ve all been waiting for you two to finally figure it out. And now... well, here we are.”

The silence that follows is thick, as if everyone is waiting for you to crack, to admit something you’ve been trying so hard to hide. You can feel Niall’s gaze on you, steady and warm, but you keep your eyes down, focusing on your coffee cup like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“We’ve got a lot to sort out,” you murmur, hoping to deflect. “And breakfast is definitely not the time for that.”

Niall leans back in his chair, his easy grin never faltering. “You’re right. But we’ll get there, won’t we?” His voice is light, teasing, but the weight of his words lingers longer than you’d like.

You swallow hard, wondering just how much longer you can keep pretending everything’s fine.

Louis, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, nudges you with his elbow. “You know, if it were anyone else, I’d say they’re pretty much together already.”

Zayn smirks. “But it’s you two. So, we’re all just sitting here waiting for the inevitable.”

You want to protest, want to say that they’re wrong, but the truth is, you’re not sure anymore.

Niall’s hand brushes yours across the table, just for a second, but it’s enough to send your heart racing. He doesn’t pull away. In fact, he seems more at ease than ever, while you’re doing everything you can to keep your feelings buried.

“See? That’s progress,” Harry says, watching you both closely.

“Yeah, it’s called being married,” you snap, unable to hide your frustration any longer.

That only makes the table laugh harder. “Don’t worry, mate,” Zayn says to Niall, his grin wide. “We’re all just waiting for the real fireworks.”

You wish you could be as confident as Niall. Instead, you find yourself wondering how much longer you can keep pretending that nothing has changed.

...

The day passes in a blur of busy schedules, rehearsals, and travel. You’ve been doing your best to avoid Niall, keeping your focus strictly on work, but it’s not easy. Not when every glance in his direction feels like a magnet pulling you closer.

By the time you’re setting up for the band’s evening talk show interview, your nerves are frayed. You’ve spent the entire day dodging his gaze, pretending not to notice the way he casually lingers in your periphery or the soft smiles he’s thrown your way when he thinks no one’s watching.

Now, with Niall seated in the makeup chair in front of you, there’s nowhere to hide.

“Finally,” he says, grinning up at you. His tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes it impossible to brush him off. “Thought you were avoiding me all day.”

You force a light laugh, your fingers busying themselves with the brushes and tools laid out on the counter. “Just busy. You know how it is.”

“Sure,” he says, but the disbelief is clear in his tone. He doesn’t push, though, which almost makes it worse.

As you step closer to him, raising your hand to comb through his hair, you catch the way he’s watching you—soft, steady, and completely unguarded. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you quickly look away, focusing instead on getting his hair camera-ready.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Trying to concentrate,” you reply, not meeting his eyes.

“On me?” he teases, and the smirk in his tone makes your heart skip a beat.

“On your hair,” you correct, though the quiver in your voice betrays you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for his phone, holding it up in a quick movement. Before you can protest, you hear the snap of a photo.

“Niall!” you scold, reaching for his phone, but he pulls it away, laughing.

“Relax,” he says, tapping at the screen. “Just keeping up appearances, yeah?”

You groan, your face heating as you imagine how disheveled you must look. “I probably look terrible.”

“Nope,” he says, still focused on his phone. “You look beautiful.”

You freeze for a moment, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, but tonight it feels different.

“Stop messing around,” you mutter, trying to shake off the way his words make you feel.

“I’m not messing,” he says simply, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re beautiful.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you do the only thing you can—focus on finishing his hair. Stepping in front of him, you smooth out the strands with quick, practiced movements, desperate to keep your hands from shaking.

But then his hands find your waist.

Before you can react, he pulls you down into his lap, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Niall!” you gasp, your balance thrown off as you clutch at his shoulders for support.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice soft and amused. “You’re way too tense.”

“I can’t—I need to finish—”

“You’re done,” he interrupts, his eyes searching yours. “And you need to stop running.”

You’re not sure if he means running from him or running from how you feel, but either way, you can’t deny the truth in his words.

“You’re impossible,” you whisper, your resolve cracking under the weight of his gaze.

“And you’re stubborn,” he counters, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I like that about you.”

The moment stretches between you, the air thick with something unspoken. You know you should stand up, brush it off like you always do, but for the first time, you’re not sure you want to.

You’re hyperaware of everything—the solid warmth of his thighs beneath you, the gentle but insistent grip of his hands on your waist, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the lingering trace of hairspray. Your fingers, still resting on his shoulders for balance, flex unconsciously against the soft cotton of his shirt.

The air feels thicker now, weighted with unspoken words and simmering tension. His eyes lock onto yours, searching, daring, waiting.

“Niall,” you start, but your voice falters, too quiet and too unsure.

His grip on your waist tightens just slightly, grounding you. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “Just... don’t overthink for once.”

Your breath catches as he leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up again, and you feel the magnetic pull drawing you closer. It’s dizzying, intoxicating.

Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest that you’re sure he can hear it. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the distance, to finally give in to the years of longing you’ve kept buried beneath layers of denial.

He doesn’t move further, though. He’s waiting—for you.

The realization sends a jolt through you, a mix of exhilaration and fear. You want this. You’ve always wanted this. But crossing that line feels like stepping off the edge of a cliff, and you’re not sure you’re ready for the fall.

Your lips part, your breath mingling with his, and for a split second, nothing else in the world exists but him.

“Niall!”

The sudden voice from the doorway shatters the moment like glass. You jolt back instinctively, your cheeks burning as you twist to see Louis leaning against the frame, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Interview’s starting, mate,” Louis says, his tone casual but his grin unmistakably teasing. “Unless you’re planning to skip it for… other priorities.”

“Coming,” Niall replies, his voice slightly hoarse. His hands slip from your waist, but the warmth of his touch lingers like a brand.

Louis raises an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he glances between the two of you. “Right,” he says, dragging out the word. “Don’t take too long, lovebirds.”

You scramble to your feet, your face flaming as Louis retreats down the hall, his laughter echoing behind him.

When you glance back at Niall, he’s watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something that makes your chest ache.

“We should—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, grabbing a comb from the counter and busying yourself with tidying up. Anything to avoid the weight of his gaze.

“Hey,” he says softly, and when you look up, his expression is open, earnest. “We’ll finish this later.”

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small nod. He stands, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he passes, and the simple touch sends a spark racing through you.

As the door clicks shut behind him, you exhale shakily, your fingers gripping the counter for support. You don’t know what “later” will bring, but for the first time, the idea of falling feels a little less terrifying.

...

You’re standing off to the side of the bustling studio, arms crossed tightly over your chest. The makeup station behind you feels like a safe barrier between you and the whirlwind of cameras, producers, and bright lights. Across the room, the boys are settling onto the sleek leather couch under the glaring stage lights, grinning and joking as the host greets them warmly.

Niall catches your eye. Even from this distance, his gaze feels like a tether, pulling your focus no matter how much you try to avoid it. He gives you a quick wink, his easy charm on full display, and it’s enough to make your heart stutter.

The interview begins with the usual playful banter—questions about the tour, favorite moments on stage, and funny stories from the road. The boys are in their element, bouncing off each other’s energy and keeping the audience laughing.

Then the host leans in, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Now, boys, we have to talk about the latest buzz. Niall, you’ve been quite the topic of conversation this week. Care to share what’s going on?”

Your stomach twists as Niall’s name draws a wave of cheers and laughter from the audience. The cameras zoom in on him, and he flashes a cheeky smile that’s both endearing and infuriating.

“Oh, you mean the marriage thing?” he says, his tone casual, but there’s a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

The room erupts in gasps and laughter, and the host’s jaw drops in exaggerated surprise. “So it’s true? You got married in Vegas?”

“Well,” Niall says, leaning back and rubbing the back of his neck, “things happen when you’re having fun, don’t they?”

The audience roars, and you feel like you might sink through the floor. Your hands clench into fists at your sides as Harry, ever the instigator, chimes in.

“To be fair,” Harry says with a grin, “it’s not every day you see Niall that brave.”

“Or that drunk,” adds Louis, earning another wave of laughter.

“And your mystery bride?” the host presses, her curiosity genuine. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Niall hesitates for a fraction of a second, his eyes flicking to where you’re standing. “Let’s just say,” he begins, his voice light but steady, “she’s amazing. Beautiful, talented, and someone who puts up with me better than anyone else could.”

The host melts at his words, clasping her hands dramatically. “That’s so sweet! You must really care about her.”

“Absolutely,” Niall says without missing a beat. The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and you find yourself holding your breath.

Liam, ever the voice of reason, steers the conversation back to the tour, defusing the tension with a comment about their next city. As the interview wraps up, the boys thank the audience and head off stage, their energy high as they make their way back toward you.

Niall is the last to approach, his smile easy as always, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes when he stops in front of you.

“So?” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “How’d I do?”

You want to be annoyed, to scold him for being so casual about the whole thing. But the way he’s looking at you—hopeful and just a little nervous—makes it impossible.

“You didn’t embarrass me as much as I thought you would,” you say, your voice softer than you intended.

His grin widens. “That’s a win, then.”

Before you can respond, Harry sidles up beside Niall, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good show, Mr. Husband,” he teases, winking at you. “The two of you are going to have to step it up, though. The world’s watching now.”

Your cheeks burn as you watch Harry stroll away, and when you glance back at Niall, he’s already watching you.

“Guess we’d better figure out what we’re doing, huh?” he says, his voice quieter now, the playful edge gone.

You nod, your throat tight. “Yeah. We should.”

...

The soft hum of the elevator fills the silence as you and Niall ascend to your floor. His hands are stuffed into his hoodie pockets, his hair still slightly tousled from the interview, though you’d carefully styled it hours earlier. You can still feel the ghost of his fingertips brushing your wrist as he snapped that photo of you, and the way his gaze lingered on you in the dressing room keeps playing on a loop in your mind.

You shift uncomfortably, the tension between you feeling sharper now after nearly kissing him. Neither of you has addressed it, but the weight of it presses down on the quiet space between you.

When the elevator dings, you step out first, desperate to get to the shared room even though the thought of spending another night in close quarters with him makes your heart race.

At the door, you fumble with the key card, but before you can swipe it, Niall’s hand comes to rest gently on your shoulder. “Hey.”

The softness in his voice makes you freeze. You glance back at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all night,” he says, his brows furrowing slightly. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“I’m just tired,” you mutter, brushing him off as you finally get the door open and step inside.

He follows you in, closing the door behind him, but instead of giving you space, he lingers. You drop your bag on the armchair, hoping he’ll let it go, but his voice cuts through the quiet.

“Is this about earlier?”

You stiffen, your back to him. “What do you mean?”

“In the dressing room,” he says simply. “When we almost…” He trails off, but the unfinished sentence hangs heavily in the air.

You spin around, arms crossed over your chest. “Nothing happened.”

“Exactly,” he counters, stepping closer. “Why not?”

“Niall…” You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Can we not do this tonight? It’s been a long day.”

He ignores your plea, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You’re avoiding it. And me.”

“I’m not avoiding—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly, cutting you off. “You’ve been dodgin’ me all day. You barely looked at me during the interview, you wouldn’t sit next to me in the car, and now you’re actin’ like this.”

You let out a frustrated breath, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “What do you want me to say, Niall?”

“The truth,” he says, moving to stand in front of you. “Why are you running?”

You look down at your hands, your fingers twisting in your lap. “I’m not running.”

“Yes, you are,” he insists, crouching down so he’s at eye level with you. “Talk to me. Please.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush him off again, but the look in his eyes—earnest, patient, and so undeniably Niall—makes it impossible.

“I’m scared, okay?” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Scared of what?”

You gesture between the two of you, frustration bubbling to the surface. “This. Us. What if we ruin everything?”

Niall’s shoulders sag slightly, his expression softening. “You think we’d ruin it? After everything?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “We’ve always been good at being… us. And now everything’s different.”

“Different doesn’t have to mean bad,” he says quietly.

You glance up at him, your chest tightening. “And what if it does? What if we mess this up and it’s never the same?”

Niall sighs, running a hand through his hair as he sits back on his heels. “I can’t promise we won’t mess up,” he admits. “But I can promise I’ll never stop tryin’ to fix it if we do.”

Your throat feels tight, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s always been like this—steady, kind, and unwavering.

“Niall…” you start, but he interrupts gently.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he says, standing and offering you a hand. “But stop shutting me out. Please.”

Hesitating for only a moment, you take his hand and let him pull you to your feet. The warmth of his palm lingers even after he lets go, and you know you’re walking a fine line.

...

The soft glow of the city lights filters through the curtains, casting faint patterns across the bed. You lie on your side, your back to Niall, gripping the edge of the blanket as if it could shield you from the swirling mess of emotions threatening to spill over.

The bed shifts as he moves, his voice soft in the stillness. “You don’t have to stay on the edge, you know. I’m not gonna bite.”

You glance over your shoulder, catching the faintest smile tugging at his lips. His hair is still slightly mussed from earlier, and the quiet vulnerability in his expression tugs at your heart.

“I’m fine here,” you murmur, but the words feel hollow even to you.

He hesitates, then shifts closer, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. “C’mere,” he whispers, his tone low and soothing.

Your breath catches as his arm lightly brushes yours. For a moment, you hesitate, your walls screaming for you to stay put, to keep the distance. But then you feel the warmth of his hand resting gently on your arm, and something inside you gives way.

Slowly, you roll onto your other side, facing him. His blue eyes search yours, cautious but hopeful, and he lifts his arm in invitation. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and let him pull you closer. The moment his arm settles around your waist, you feel the tension begin to ebb, replaced by a comforting warmth that spreads through your chest.

He pulls you just close enough that your forehead brushes against his shoulder, his scent—a mix of clean soap and something uniquely him—filling the space between you. His thumb moves absentmindedly against your back, tracing slow, soothing circles.

“This okay?” he asks again, his voice barely audible.

You nod against him, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt. “Yeah.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. The steady rhythm of his breathing matches the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, and you let yourself sink into the moment. His touch is grounding, his presence a balm for the doubts that have been clawing at you.

But even in this closeness, your fears whisper at the edges of your mind. The warmth of his embrace feels too good, too safe, and the thought of losing it terrifies you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, unsure if he even hears it.

“For what?” he murmurs, his voice drowsy but curious.

“For always being you,” you reply, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you can’t bring yourself to say.

He hums softly, a sound of quiet contentment, and you feel the slight press of his lips against your hair. “Always.”

It doesn’t take long for his breathing to slow, the tension leaving his body as he drifts off to sleep. His arm remains firmly around you, holding you as if he’d never let go.

He shifts slightly, nuzzling closer in his sleep, and the movement sends a pang of bittersweet ache through you. You know he’s out, his breathing deep and even, but it feels like he could wake at any moment, like you shouldn’t risk it.

But the words are there, teetering on the edge of your tongue, demanding to be spoken into the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper so faintly you can barely hear it yourself. The lump in your throat threatens to choke you, but you push on. “I’m sorry for running. For being such a coward.”

You wait, but he doesn’t stir, only tightening his hold around your waist slightly, as if his subconscious could sense your turmoil.

Your breath shakes as you exhale, eyes burning with tears you refuse to shed. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, Niall. Too long. And it’s terrifying.”

The words spill out, unrestrained, carried by the weight of everything you’ve held back. “You’re everything to me. You always have been. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re kind, and talented, and brilliant. And me? I’m just…” You pause, choking on the thought. “I’m just a makeup artist. Just the girl who hides behind brushes and combs while you light up the world.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, the familiar texture grounding you even as your voice wavers. “You deserve someone who’s extraordinary. Someone who doesn’t hold you back, who fits into your world without hesitation. And I—” Your breath catches, and you close your eyes tightly, willing the tears away.

“I’m so scared,” you admit, the words trembling as they escape. “Scared of ruining us. Scared of not being enough for you. Scared that if I let myself have this, if I let myself have you, it’ll all fall apart, and I won’t know how to survive it.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but you don’t wipe it away. You let the confession linger in the stillness, hoping it might ease the ache in your chest, even though you know it won’t.

“And I know you’d never say it,” you continue, your voice barely audible now. “But part of me keeps thinking you’re only doing this because of the marriage, because you have to, not because you want to.”

The thought makes your chest tighten unbearably, and you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose you, Niall. Not as my friend. Not as… anything. But I don’t know how to do this.”

For a moment, you’re met with silence, the kind that feels both comforting and crushing. His breathing stays steady, his arm still wrapped securely around you, and you convince yourself that he’s fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the weight you’ve just spilled into the darkness.

You glance at him, his features softened in the dim light, and a small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips. “I love you,” you whisper one last time, letting the words fall into the space between you like a secret never meant to be heard.

As your eyes close and sleep begins to pull you under, you tell yourself that maybe this moment is enough. Maybe it’s okay to love him in the quiet, to let yourself have this fragile, fleeting sense of peace—even if he never knows.

...

The morning sunlight seeps through the thin curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. You stir beneath the duvet, slowly becoming aware of the warm weight of Niall’s arm draped over your waist. His steady, even breaths caress the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself melt into the comfort of his presence, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest pressing gently against your back.

But then reality crashes in, and your stomach twists. What if he heard you?

You carefully shift, trying to slide out from under his arm, but the movement stirs him. His arm tightens instinctively around you, pulling you closer.

“You’re not sneaky, y’know,” his voice rasps, still heavy with sleep, a teasing lilt to it.

Your breath catches, your entire body freezing. “What?”

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow. His tousled hair is sticking up in every direction, and his blue eyes, though bleary, are far too focused on you. “I heard you last night,” he murmurs, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart stops. “You��what?”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he says simply, his lips curving into a small smile.

Panic flares in your chest as you sit up abruptly, clutching the duvet tightly around yourself like it’s a shield. “You… you misheard. I was rambling. Half-asleep—didn’t know what I was saying.”

Niall lets out a soft chuckle, sitting up as well. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you insist, your voice sharp with nerves.

He leans closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight, and the proximity makes it impossible to breathe. “You sure about that?”

Your cheeks burn as you scramble to look anywhere but at him. “Can we just… not do this?”

“No,” he says firmly, though his tone is still gentle. “We’re not brushing this under the rug, not this time.”

“Niall—”

“Why?” he interrupts, his voice low but steady. “Why do you think you’re not good enough? For me?”

The question feels like a punch to the gut. You shake your head, biting your lip. “Because look at you!” you burst out, your words spilling over in a rush. “You’re—you’re Niall Horan. People scream your name. You’re famous. You could have anyone. And I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he says, cutting you off sharply, his voice firm enough to make you stop mid-sentence.

His eyes are burning with an intensity that makes your throat tighten.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he says, his voice softening as he moves closer. The warmth of his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that’s escaped down your skin. “You’re the smartest, kindest, most talented person I know. You’re the one person I need with me, no matter what.”

Your chest tightens, the weight of his words overwhelming. “Niall, you don’t understand—”

“Stop,” he says quietly. “I understand more than you think.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the words claw their way out of you. “Of messing this up. Of losing you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he murmurs, leaning closer. His breath is warm against your skin, and the hand cradling your cheek moves to the back of your neck. “But I need you to stop talking, just for a second.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, soft and searching.

The kiss steals the breath from your lungs, and for a moment, the world tilts on its axis. His hand slides into your hair, holding you gently but firmly, and every nerve ending in your body sparks to life. You can taste the faintest hint of mint on his lips, feel the heat radiating off him, and the way he pulls you closer like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth.

For a fleeting moment, you forget your fears.

But then they come crashing back.

You pull away, your heart pounding as you put a hand on his chest to create distance. “Niall, I—”

He searches your face, his brow furrowing as if he can see the storm brewing behind your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I just…” You shake your head, the words tangling in your throat. “I need time.”

His hand drops slowly from your hair, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he nods, his voice soft. “Okay. I’ll wait. As long as you need.”

Your chest aches at the tenderness in his tone, but all you can manage is a nod before you turn away, trying to calm the whirlwind inside you.

…

Part 3 - coming soon

[ev3rwh0re]

Between the Lines Masterlist

Fresh out of university, your dream of writing becomes reality when you join One Direction on tour to pen their official behind-the-scenes book. As Niall’s lifelong best friend, you’re ready to tell their story—but tour life brings unexpected challenges. Louis’s playful charm pulls you in, igniting feelings you can’t ignore, while Niall, who’s secretly been in love with you for years, struggles to hide his heartbreak. Caught between the comfort of your oldest friend and the thrill of something new, you must navigate love, loyalty, and the line between friendship and romance.

Tags: Niall x childhood friend!reader, Louis x reader, love triangle, angst, fluff

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Final chapter

[ev3rwh0re]

this is darry in throwing in the towel right

[ev3rwh0re]

Our Secret (Niall Horan x reader) - Fic Request

Anonymous request: probably the most cliché request ever but i never read a fic like that so here goes nothing. i would love for the reader to be louis sister and her and niall always having that tension for years. niall is absolutely in love with reader and reader is feeling the same. maybe they could date in secret before louis (ever the overprotective brother) and the rest of the band finds out?

Tags: Niall x reader, Louis x sister!reader, angst, fluff

Masterlist

You’ve known Niall for years—long enough to understand his quirks, his humor, and the way his eyes light up when he’s truly happy. Long enough to know that the fluttering in your stomach whenever he’s near isn’t something that’s going to fade.

What you didn’t expect was realising he feels the same way.

It started with the small things: the way his laughter lingers a little longer when you make a joke, or how he always seems to find an excuse to sit next to you. But no matter how much you both might wish otherwise, there’s always been one undeniable obstacle—Louis.

Louis, your fiercely protective older brother, who’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t trust anyone when it comes to you. Especially not one of his best mates.

But tonight, something shifts.

The others have gone to bed, leaving the flat quiet for the first time all day. Niall is sitting close, closer than usual, his knee brushing yours. He’s fiddling with the frayed hem of his sweatshirt, his fingers moving restlessly like he’s trying to keep them busy. You can feel his nervous energy like it’s something tangible in the air between you.

“I shouldn’t be saying this,” he starts, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t even be here right now.”

Your stomach twists, a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Why not?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

He hesitates, his eyes fixed on his hands. For a moment, you think he’s going to drop it, but then he lifts his gaze to meet yours, and the vulnerability there takes your breath away.

“Because every time I’m around you,” he says, his voice shaking just slightly, “it gets harder to pretend I don’t feel this. That I don’t want this.”

You swallow hard, the words sinking into you like the weight of a long-held secret finally exposed. The air feels heavier now, charged, and you can’t seem to find the right words.

“Niall…” You trail off, unsure how to start, unsure how to hold onto this moment without shattering it.

He shifts closer, the couch dipping under his weight. “Tell me I’m not mad,” he pleads softly, his Irish accent wrapping around the words. “Tell me I’m not the only one who feels this.”

Your breath catches. You want to say something, to reassure him, but all you can do is nod. His expression softens, his lips curving into the faintest smile, like he’s relieved and terrified all at once.

“I’ve liked you for years,” you admit, the words tumbling out like they’ve been waiting to escape. “But I didn’t think—”

Before you can finish, he moves. His hand brushes against your cheek, tentative and warm, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “I’ve liked you just as long,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, and when he leans in, you meet him halfway. The moment your lips touch, it’s like the world shifts on its axis.

His lips are soft, moving against yours with a mixture of hesitation and hunger, like he’s been imagining this as long as you have. You can taste the faint sweetness of the tea he had earlier and feel the slight scratch of his stubble against your skin. The warmth of his hand spreads along your cheek, grounding you in the moment as his other hand rests lightly on your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

Your fingers tangle in his hoodie, gripping tightly as the kiss deepens. Time seems to stretch and blur until it’s just him, the press of his lips, the scent of his cologne—something woodsy and clean—and the dizzying heat building in your chest.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless. His forehead rests against yours, and his hand lingers on your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

“This is… dangerous,” you whisper, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his lips brushing against your temple in a way that makes your stomach flip. “But I don’t care. Not anymore.”

You lean back just enough to look at him, your fingers still gripping his hoodie. “Louis will kill us. Both of us.”

He chuckles softly, though there’s a seriousness in his eyes. “He might. But we can keep it quiet—for now, at least. Just you and me.”

You hesitate, the weight of his words settling over you. It’s a risk, a huge one, but when you look at him, the way he’s watching you like you’re the only thing that matters, you know it’s worth it.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice firm. “Just us.”

He grins then, that boyish, heart-melting smile that makes you feel like you’re the luckiest person in the world. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, his hand slipping down to entwine with yours. “Sneak around, keep it low-key. We’ve got this.”

You nod, a matching smile tugging at your lips. “We’ve got this.”

And as you sit there, your hands clasped and the weight of the secret pressing against your chest, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. It’s dangerous, yes, but for the first time in years, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—with him.

...

The days following your and Niall’s decision to date in secret are a mix of exhilaration and anxiety. Every glance, every touch feels like it carries more weight, and the constant balancing act between sneaking moments together and keeping Louis in the dark makes your heart race for all the right—and wrong—reasons.

It starts with little things. A lingering touch when the others aren’t looking. A whispered joke that only the two of you understand. One day, you and Niall manage to steal a quick moment alone in the hallway when Louis and Harry are busy arguing over a video game.

“Do you ever get tired of being sneaky?” you whisper, glancing toward the living room to make sure no one’s coming.

Niall grins, his blue eyes twinkling as he steps closer. “Not when it means I get to do this.” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss that leaves you breathless.

Before you can respond, Louis shouts your name from the other room, and you both jump apart like guilty kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Niall laughs softly, his breath warm against your cheek. “The things I do for you.”

Keeping your relationship a secret is harder than either of you anticipated. Louis’s protectiveness borders on paranoia at times, and the others are observant in ways you hadn’t counted on.

One afternoon, everyone’s sprawled out in the living room. You’re sitting on the couch with your legs tucked under you, trying not to laugh too hard at something Niall says. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, but the way his head tilts back when he laughs makes your heart flutter.

Louis notices the way your gaze lingers a little too long. “Why are you staring at Niall like that?” he asks, his tone light but with an edge of suspicion.

You freeze, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I wasn’t staring,” you say quickly, reaching for a nearby throw pillow and hugging it to your chest.

“Yeah, she was,” Harry chimes in, smirking as he stretches out on the floor. “What’s going on there?”

“Nothing!” you and Niall say at the same time, your voices a little too loud.

The room falls quiet for a beat before Louis narrows his eyes. “Right. Nothing. Just keep it that way.”

The tension hangs in the air even after the conversation moves on, and later, when you and Niall find yourselves alone in the kitchen, you can’t help but sigh.

“He’s going to figure it out,” you say, pressing your hands to your face.

Niall steps closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Not if we’re careful. He’s suspicious, but he’s not a mind reader.”

“Yet,” you mutter, making him laugh.

...

The night is quiet, the kind of silence that makes everything feel softer and more intimate. Niall’s room is dimly lit by the faint glow of his bedside lamp, casting golden light across the space. You’re lying in his arms, your head nestled against his chest as his hand draws lazy circles on your back.

His hoodie, oversized and smelling like him, drapes over your shoulders, and you feel utterly at peace in this stolen moment. His heartbeat thuds steadily under your ear, a soothing rhythm that makes you forget, even briefly, about the world outside the four walls of his room.

“This feels too perfect,” you whisper, tilting your head to look up at him.

Niall’s lips curve into that boyish grin that always melts your heart. “Because it is perfect,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. “Even if we’re sneaking around.”

You laugh quietly, your breath warm against his chest. “Especially because we’re sneaking around.”

His fingers gently tilt your chin up, his blue eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that makes your stomach flutter. “You’re worth all of it, you know. The sneaking, the risk, everything.”

Your chest tightens with emotion as his lips meet yours, soft and unhurried. It’s not the kind of kiss filled with urgency or passion but something deeper, sweeter—a promise. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as his other arm pulls you closer.

Time seems to stand still until you realize how late it’s gotten. You sigh reluctantly, pulling back just enough to rest your forehead against his. “I should go. Louis will start getting suspicious if I’m gone too long in the mornings.”

Niall groans softly, his hand trailing down your arm to tangle with your fingers. “Do you really have to?”

You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Yes. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, you slip out of bed, smoothing down the hoodie you borrowed and quietly padding toward the door. You glance back once to see him watching you, his head propped up on one hand, and he shoots you a wink that makes your cheeks warm.

The hallway is dark and silent, the rest of the house seemingly asleep. You take careful steps, doing your best to avoid the creaky spots in the floor. You’re halfway down the hall, a victorious smile forming on your lips, when you turn a corner and bump straight into someone.

The sound of a sloshing mug and a soft curse break the silence, and you freeze, your heart plummeting. Liam stands before you, wearing pajama bottoms and a sleepy frown, a mug of tea in one hand.

“Oh,” you whisper, panic tightening your throat. “Hi.”

His eyes drift from you to the hoodie you’re wearing—Niall’s hoodie—and then back toward the hallway where you’d just come from. His brow furrows slightly as the pieces fall into place.

“Were you just in Niall’s room?” His voice is low but calm, more curious than accusatory.

You open your mouth to deny it, but the look on his face stops you. Liam has always been the dad of the group—the reasonable one, the one you can’t lie to even if you tried. “I… yeah. I was.”

He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “So, it’s true then. You and Niall?”

Your cheeks burn as you glance down, nodding. “We’ve been… seeing each other. But you can’t say anything, Liam. Please. Especially not to Louis.”

Liam sighs, his expression softening. He leans against the wall, setting his mug on the nearby table. “I had a feeling. Niall’s been head over heels for you for ages.”

You blink, caught off guard. “He told you?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “He didn’t have to. I’ve known him long enough to see it. The way he looks at you… it’s pretty obvious. I think it’s great, really.”

Relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived when Liam’s face grows more serious. “But Louis… you know how protective he is. How do you think he’s going to take this?”

Your stomach twists. “Not well,” you admit. “That’s why we’re keeping it quiet. We’re not trying to hurt him or anything.”

“I know you’re not,” Liam says, his voice steady. “But this won’t stay a secret forever. Louis isn’t clueless, and when he finds out, it’s going to hit him hard.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you say, though the words sound hollow even to your own ears. “We just need more time.”

Liam studies you for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. I won’t say anything. But you two need to be careful, yeah? The last thing we need is Louis losing it.”

“Thank you, Liam,” you whisper, the weight of his understanding bringing tears to your eyes.

He smiles, patting your shoulder. “Just remember—you owe me. And if this blows up, don’t expect me to mediate.”

You laugh quietly, the tension easing just a little. “Deal.”

As Liam heads back toward his room, you exhale deeply, your heart still racing. You slip back into your own room, climbing into bed with a mixture of relief and nerves swirling in your chest.

When your phone buzzes with a text from Niall—“Miss you already. Was it smooth?”—you can’t help but smile. Not exactly, you reply, but we’re safe.

For now.

...

It’s late, and the house is buzzing with laughter and chatter from the movie still playing in the other room. The group is in the living room, engaged in a heated debate over what to watch next, but you and Niall have quietly slipped away, seeking refuge in the kitchen. Your excuse is simple: you’re getting more snacks.

But the real reason is that the need to be near Niall, even for a few moments, has grown too strong to ignore. It’s been a long week of stolen glances and fleeting touches, and tonight, you both decided to take advantage of the quiet moments when the others are distracted.

You’re standing by the fridge, your hand brushing against Niall’s as you reach for the chips on the top shelf. You both laugh quietly at something, the shared secret between you two making every stolen moment feel precious, almost fragile. The weight of the quiet intimacy between you is a heady mix of excitement and fear, the knowledge that at any moment someone could walk in on you making this all the more thrilling.

You turn to face Niall, and his eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense and warm. You lean in just a bit, his breath mingling with yours, the space between you narrowing until you can feel his heartbeat against your chest. It’s as though the outside world has fallen away, and there’s only this moment, only the two of you.

Then, you hear it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps, followed by the faintest of door creaks.

You pull back quickly, heart pounding, but it’s too late. Zayn steps into the kitchen, his eyes immediately flicking between you and Niall with that knowing, calm gaze of his. He doesn’t look surprised—he’s always been perceptive, the one who reads between the lines, who notices the little details others miss.

For a moment, no one speaks. The air feels thick, heavy with the weight of being caught. You try to stammer out an explanation, but Zayn holds up a hand, his expression serene, the faintest of smirks playing at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t say anything,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper, as if to avoid drawing attention. “I’m not here to make a big deal out of it.”

You exchange a quick look with Niall, and relief floods through you. Zayn isn’t angry—he’s calm, understanding, the kind of person who always knows how to diffuse a tense moment.

“I had a feeling,” Zayn continues, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.” His gaze softens, and there’s a brief, knowing smile on his face. “And honestly? I’m not surprised. You two have been dancing around each other for ages.”

You swallow nervously, trying to steady your breathing. “We’re...we’re just being careful, Zayn. Louis—he’d—”

Zayn cuts you off with a nod. “I know. Louis wouldn’t take kindly to this.” He pauses, his eyes thoughtful. “I get it. You don’t want to hurt him.”

His tone is understanding, and it’s a relief to hear someone say it out loud, to have someone who understands the situation, the delicate balance you’re trying to maintain. The last thing you want is to hurt Louis, but you’ve known for a while that your feelings for Niall are something you can’t just ignore.

“We’re not telling anyone,” Niall says, his voice steady despite the nerves still lingering in the air. “We’ll keep it between us for now.”

Zayn’s eyes flicker to Niall, then back to you, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Good. Keep it that way. Just… be careful. Louis is protective, and if he finds out before you’re ready…” He trails off, letting the unspoken words hang in the air.

You nod, the weight of Zayn’s words settling deep in your chest. “We will. We just need a little more time.”

Zayn gives a small smile, one that’s calm but reassuring. “I’ll keep your secret. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t let anyone else find out, and don’t put yourselves in a position where Louis might catch on.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and Niall shoots Zayn a grateful look. “Thanks, man. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Zayn says, his voice low and sincere. “I know you two are good for each other. Just… don’t make things harder than they need to be.”

With that, Zayn turns to leave, pausing just long enough to glance back over his shoulder with a wink. “And hey, try not to get caught next time.”

As he walks out of the kitchen, you and Niall exchange a silent look, both of you processing the encounter. Zayn, as always, has been the calm in the storm, and though the situation is still tense, you can’t help but feel a little lighter now that the secret is out between the two of you. Zayn has given his blessing without making a fuss, and for that, you’re thankful.

But the fear lingers. Louis doesn’t know. And he can never find out.

...

It’s a quiet evening, and the house is filled with the low hum of the others hanging out downstairs. You and Niall, however, have managed to slip away from the group, sneaking into his room under the guise of needing a little privacy. It's been a long week of playing it cool, keeping your relationship a secret, but tonight, the need to be close to Niall is overwhelming.

The door clicks softly behind you, and before you even think about it, Niall’s hands are gently guiding you toward the bed. There’s a new intensity in his gaze, the kind of look that makes your pulse race, as if he can’t wait another moment.

You crawl onto the bed, and Niall follows, the space between you growing smaller with each passing second. His breath brushes against your neck, sending a wave of shivers down your spine. There’s something electric about the way he looks at you—like he’s seeing you for the first time, even though this has been going on for weeks now.

You meet his lips halfway, the kiss soft at first, tentative. But soon, the pressure deepens, and you can feel Niall’s body pressing closer, his hands finding their way to your back, pulling you into him. You can’t help but melt into the kiss, the sweetness of it, the urgency of it, filling the air between you two. It’s a stolen moment, a piece of heaven you’re both willing to hold onto for as long as possible.

You barely notice the time passing, the rest of the world fading as you get lost in him, in the way his lips move against yours, in the way his touch sends warmth spreading through your body. It’s just the two of you, and it feels perfect, like everything has finally fallen into place.

But then, just as the kiss deepens, the sound of a knock at the door jolts you both into reality.

“Oi, Niall. You in there?”

Your eyes snap open in panic. It’s Harry.

Niall freezes, pulling back from the kiss so quickly that it almost feels like the world has stopped. You both stare at the door, heartbeats syncing in a frantic rhythm, unsure whether to answer or stay completely silent. You hear the sound of footsteps, and for a moment, you hope that maybe—just maybe—Harry will walk away.

But then the door swings open, and there he is.

Harry stands in the doorway, his eyes immediately widening as he takes in the sight before him: you and Niall, sitting close on the bed, faces flushed and breathless from the kiss.

For a moment, Harry doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you both, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. His eyes flick between you and Niall, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

“Ah,” he says, his voice filled with amusement. “So this is what’s been going on, huh?”

You feel your face heat up, your hands fumbling to straighten your clothes, and Niall lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Harry, it’s—” Niall starts, but Harry holds up a hand to stop him.

“No need to explain. I get it,” Harry says, a teasing grin on his lips. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with an exaggerated click, like he’s fully committed to this new discovery. “You two have been sneaky little things, huh?”

You glance at Niall, his expression a mix of embarrassment and guilt, but there’s a sense of relief in his eyes, too. It’s like the tension that’s been building between the two of you for weeks has finally burst open, and there’s no going back now.

Harry leans against the doorframe, his grin never faltering. “I had a feeling about you two. Honestly, it was only a matter of time before you couldn’t hide it anymore.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you both with a more thoughtful expression. “But hey, I’m not gonna tell anyone. It’s not my place.”

You blink, surprised by how calm Harry is about this whole situation. It’s almost like he’s been waiting for this moment, and it doesn’t faze him at all.

“You’re not mad?” you ask, your voice small.

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “Mad? Nah. You two aren’t hurting anyone.” He shrugs, clearly unbothered by the discovery. “But... Louis is another story.” He gives you both a pointed look. “You know how he is.”

Niall rubs his face, letting out a sigh. “We know, mate. We don’t want to hurt him. We just... wanted to keep it quiet for a bit.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, a bit of playful sarcasm creeping into his tone. “Yeah, well, you’ve been keeping it quiet for longer than I thought you would.” He steps further into the room, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The way you two have been eyeing each other for weeks now—kind of obvious, don’t you think?”

You cringe slightly, but Harry’s teasing tone softens. He’s not mocking you, just stating the obvious.

“I’m not gonna tell Louis,” Harry says with a casual smile. “But you better be careful. He’s protective, and if he finds out before you’re ready...” He lets the warning hang in the air, knowing full well the consequences that would follow.

“We will. We’re being careful,” Niall says, his voice a little firmer now. “We just don’t want to hurt him, Harry.”

Harry’s expression softens, and for the first time since entering the room, his teasing grin disappears. “I know you don’t. Just... keep it under wraps, yeah? I’m not trying to get dragged into this, but I’m not going to spill the beans either.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Harry’s got your back, even if he’s making jokes about it. But the seriousness in his voice reminds you of what’s at stake.

“Thanks, Harry,” Niall says quietly, his tone sincere.

“Anytime, mate,” Harry says with a wink, his grin returning. “Just try not to get caught again, alright? I don’t want to be the one who has to explain this to Louis.”

You laugh softly, relieved that Harry isn’t going to make this any harder than it already is. As he leaves, you and Niall share a quiet look, the weight of the secret still pressing on your shoulders but feeling a little lighter now that one more person knows.

But deep down, you both know the inevitable is coming. Louis will find out, and when he does... things are going to get complicated.

For now, though, you steal one last glance at Niall, the warmth of his presence still lingering as Harry’s footsteps echo down the hallway. You can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips, because despite everything, it feels worth it. It’s not perfect, not yet, but you have each other—and that’s enough for now.

...

It’s been a few weeks since Niall and you decided to start your secret relationship, and so far, it’s been surprisingly easy to maintain the ruse. The three boys—Liam, Zayn, and Harry—have kept your secret, offering quiet support whenever you need it, but also teasing you relentlessly, as if they were all in on a game that only you and Niall didn’t know how to play. They’ve all made it clear that they won’t tell Louis, but the weight of keeping this hidden is starting to grow heavier with each passing day.

Things between you and Niall have become more comfortable. When you’re around the boys, there’s an easy familiarity that comes with being together in secret. You find yourselves stealing little touches and fleeting glances without thinking. A hand brushing across Niall’s leg under the table during dinner, a quick kiss on the cheek when no one’s looking. You’re still careful—always aware of the eyes around you—but the thrill of being together in such a small, subtle way feels exhilarating.

But as you start to act more casually around the bandmates who know, the teasing becomes harder to avoid.

One afternoon, you’re all sitting in the living room, the familiar sound of movie chatter filling the space as everyone winds down after a long day. Louis has gone to the bathroom for a moment, the perfect opportunity. You sit next to Niall, your leg brushing against his as you both sink into the couch. It’s second nature now, these little moments of closeness—something so simple, but so intimate.

Liam glances over at the two of you, his eyes narrowing as if he’s catching onto something. You freeze for a second, wondering if he’s about to call you out, but instead, he just chuckles softly to himself.

“Alright, lovebirds,” he says, leaning back in his chair, clearly amused. “I’ve seen enough now.”

You and Niall share a quick look, both of you feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You know Liam isn’t really angry, just teasing, but the constant reminders of your secret are beginning to feel suffocating.

“You two are practically joined at the hip these days,” Liam continues, his grin widening. “It’s cute, really, but maybe not so much when you’re doing it right under my nose.”

Niall laughs nervously, shifting slightly in his seat. “We’re just comfortable, mate. Nothing wrong with that.”

Zayn, sitting on the other side of the room, raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile. “Comfortable? Is that what we’re calling it now?” He leans forward slightly, his voice low and teasing. “I’m starting to think you two are a bit too comfortable. You’ve been all over each other lately.”

You feel your face flush, your heart beating faster as the weight of their teasing settles in. Zayn might not be as overt about it as Liam, but his sharp, observant gaze doesn’t miss a thing.

“Come on, it’s fine,” Harry pipes up from the other side of the room, grinning like he’s been waiting for this moment. “We all know about the secret. You don’t need to keep pretending like it’s some big mystery.”

You bite your lip, trying to hide your nervousness. It’s not that you mind the teasing, but it’s starting to feel like it’s more than just playful fun. There’s an edge to it now, a hint of something more serious.

“I don’t know,” Harry continues, his grin growing mischievous. “I think it’s kind of adorable, watching you two try so hard to keep it under wraps. You’ve been sneaking around for weeks now. How’s it feel, huh?”

Niall runs a hand through his hair, his nerves visible. He’s always been good at handling teasing, but this is different. This feels like pressure, like everyone is waiting for you both to slip up.

“It’s... fine,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice comes out a little too high-pitched. You catch Niall’s eye, and you can both feel the underlying tension building. This is no longer just about playful teasing—it’s a reminder of how precarious the whole situation is.

Liam leans forward, his tone suddenly more serious. “But seriously, you guys need to be careful. Louis doesn’t know, and if he finds out before you’re ready...” He trails off, letting the warning hang in the air.

You stiffen, the weight of his words settling heavily in your stomach. It’s been a constant undercurrent since the beginning—Louis. The one person you don’t want to hurt. But despite all the warnings, the teasing, the subtle jabs, it feels like the pressure is building.

“We know,” Niall says, his voice firm, though you can hear the anxiety behind it. “We’re being careful. We just... don’t want to lie to Louis. But we’re also not ready to tell him yet.”

Zayn, who’s been quiet up until this point, looks over at you both, his expression unreadable. “You can’t keep this a secret forever. It’s already becoming obvious to everyone, and sooner or later, someone’s going to slip. And when that happens, it’s gonna be a lot worse than just a few teasing comments.”

The room falls silent, the weight of Zayn’s words sinking in. You can feel the air shift, the once-casual banter taking on a more serious tone.

“We’re just trying to figure things out,” you finally say, your voice quiet, trying to keep calm. “We know it’s not going to be easy, but we’re doing what we can.”

Liam nods slowly, his eyes softening. “I get it. But just... think about Louis. He’s not gonna take this lightly if he finds out. You know how he is.”

You nod, your chest tightening. Every conversation like this feels like another reminder of the risk you’re taking. Keeping the secret from Louis has been hard, and as the weeks pass, it’s only becoming harder to keep up the facade.

But the idea of telling him makes your stomach churn. Louis is your brother, and you know he cares about Niall, but he’s protective. He’d never want to see you hurt, and the thought of his reaction—of the tension it could cause between you, Niall, and him—feels like too much to bear.

“We’re trying,” Niall says again, his voice quieter now, but firm. “We don’t want to hurt Louis. We just need more time.”

Harry gives a short, understanding nod, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Just don’t make it too obvious, alright? I’m happy for you two, really, but I’m starting to think even I don’t want to watch you two play footsie under the table again.”

The room erupts into laughter, but you can’t shake the tight knot in your stomach. The teasing has started to feel less like fun and more like a warning. The pressure is building, and no matter how much you try to enjoy the time you have with Niall, the inevitable truth remains—you can’t keep hiding this forever.

...

The day you’ve dreaded finally arrives.

It’s another quiet evening. The house is filled with the hum of conversation and the soft sounds of the television. Everyone is winding down, and you and Niall take the opportunity to slip away to his room. The door clicks shut behind you, and the moment it does, you both relax, the weight of the day momentarily forgotten. You sit beside each other on the bed, sharing a stolen kiss—one of those kisses that, despite the danger of being caught, always feels so right.

You close your eyes, savoring the softness of his lips, the warmth of his touch, when suddenly, the door swings open.

Louis stands in the doorway, his expression one of sheer disbelief, his chest heaving as his eyes flick from you to Niall. You freeze, your heart hammering in your chest. Niall pulls away, his face pale, as both of you scramble for words, but none come.

Louis’s voice breaks the silence, low but filled with pure rage. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

You try to speak, to explain, but the words stick in your throat. His eyes flash with anger and hurt, the weight of betrayal heavy in the room. "You—" he points to Niall, his hands trembling with fury. "You’ve been lying to me this whole time? My fucking sister?"

There’s no chance to reply before Louis steps into the room, his voice rising with every syllable. "I trusted you! I thought you were my mate, Niall, and you—" His words cut deep, the betrayal thick in the air. "And you—" His gaze turns to you, his expression faltering for just a second. "You’re my sister, (Y/N). My little sister. How could you do this to me?"

You scramble to your feet, panic setting in as you try to form an explanation, but Louis’s fury overwhelms any attempt you make. Niall stands up quickly, stepping between you and Louis, his face set in grim determination. "Louis, I’m so sorry, but I never meant to hurt you," Niall says, his voice calm but filled with emotion. "I love her. I always have."

Louis doesn’t seem to hear the words. His eyes are dark with anger as he steps forward, fists clenched, but before he can move further, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes down the hall. The other boys—Liam, Zayn, and Harry—rush in, their faces a mix of confusion and concern. They’re too late, though. The damage has already been done.

Louis’s eyes snap to them, narrowing as he takes in their calm expressions. "You all knew?" he spits, his voice hoarse with rage. "You knew about this? And you didn’t tell me?" His chest heaves with each breath, the realization dawning on him. He connects the dots with shocking clarity, his gaze shifting between Niall and the others. "You were all in on this? And you didn’t say anything? How could you let me look like a fucking idiot?"

Liam, his voice low and steady, tries to step forward, but Louis cuts him off with a sharp, dismissive motion. "Don’t," he snaps. "Don’t fucking touch me." His eyes burn with fury, and it’s clear that he’s no longer able to keep his emotions in check. "I trusted all of you. You were supposed to be my friends! My family!"

Zayn, who’s been silent up until now, speaks softly but with an edge in his tone. "Louis, mate, calm down. This isn’t the way to handle it." But Louis is beyond listening. His eyes are fixed on Niall, who stands tall, ready to face whatever’s coming his way.

But Niall doesn’t move to fight back. He doesn’t raise his fists. Instead, he stands his ground, his voice firm and calm as he looks Louis dead in the eye. "Louis, I get it. You’re angry. I’d be angry too. But I love her. And I always have. This isn’t just some fling for me. This is real, and I’m not going to lie about it. Not to you, not to anyone."

Louis’s face twists with disgust, the raw emotion on display. "You think I’ll just let you get away with this? You think I’ll just let you fucking be with my sister, behind my back? What the hell’s wrong with you?" His hands curl into fists again, shaking with the force of his anger, and he takes another step toward Niall.

But Niall doesn’t back down. He doesn’t flinch. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and his gaze never wavers from Louis. "You want to hit me, Louis? You want to beat the shit out of me? Go ahead. I’ll take it. I’ll let you. I’ll take every punch, every hit. Because I’m not going anywhere. I love her, and I always will. Nothing you do will change that."

Louis’s jaw clenches, his fists shaking, but there’s a hesitation now. A moment of doubt. For a split second, it feels like he’s going to break. That he might finally step back, finally process what Niall is saying. But then, something in him snaps, and he lunges forward, throwing a punch that catches Niall off guard.

The blow lands hard, and Niall stumbles back, but he doesn’t retaliate. He doesn’t throw a punch back. He stands there, his face showing no signs of backing down, even as the blood begins to trickle down from his lip where Louis hit him.

The other boys are in motion immediately, trying to intervene. Liam grabs Louis by the shoulders, his grip firm but not aggressive. "Louis, stop!" he says, his voice a mix of authority and concern. "This isn’t you. This isn’t how you handle this."

But Louis is furious, his body trembling with rage as he pushes Liam away. "No!" he roars. "He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to take her from me. I’m her brother. I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her, and he—" His voice cracks with emotion, but the anger still burns in his eyes.

Zayn steps forward, trying to calm Louis, his hand on his shoulder. "Louis, listen to us," Zayn says, his tone softer than the others. "We’re all in this together. Niall didn’t mean to hurt you, and neither did (Y/N). You’re family. But you need to stop before things get worse."

Louis turns to face Zayn, his eyes wild, his breathing erratic. "I don’t care!" he spits. "I don’t care what any of you think! She’s my sister, and he doesn’t get to—"

Harry, finally stepping up from the back, catches Louis’s arm before he can lunge again. "Enough, Lou!" he says, his voice filled with urgency. "You’re making this worse! Stop!"

Louis’s rage is so palpable, so intense, that it seems like the entire room is holding its breath. The space between the five of you is charged with tension, thick with unspoken words and emotions that no one knows how to deal with.

But then, as if all at once, Louis’s shoulders slump, the anger dissipating, replaced by an overwhelming sense of hurt. He looks from Niall to you, his expression faltering. "I don’t know what to do with this," he says, his voice quiet now, breaking. "I don’t know what to do with you two."

The silence that follows feels heavy, suffocating. You stand there, unsure of what to say, the weight of Louis’s words crushing down on you. But you can’t make him understand right now—not when everything is so raw and fresh.

Louis turns and storms out, leaving the room in stunned silence, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

And that's when the anger that's been bubbling inside you erupts. You're standing there, breathless, heart pounding, frustration and hurt flooding your chest. The boys—Liam, Zayn, and Harry—are still standing in the room, their expressions a mixture of concern and hesitation, not sure how to respond to the whirlwind of emotions you’re now releasing.

“Are you all just going to stand there?” you snap, spinning on them, your voice sharp with anger. “You’re okay with this? With him treating Niall like that? Like he’s nothing? Just because he’s my brother doesn’t mean he gets to make decisions for me, and it sure as hell doesn’t give him the right to hurt Niall!”

Liam steps forward, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. “(Y/N), I know you're angry, but—”

“Calm down?” you shout, voice rising higher. “How am I supposed to calm down? He’s acting like I don’t know what I’m doing! Like I’m some child who can’t make my own decisions! I’m not a little girl anymore, Liam! I’m an adult! I get to choose who I love, and I love Niall! But he—” You point toward the door where Louis just stormed out, your voice trembling with rage. “—he doesn’t get that, does he? He doesn't care that I’m happy, or that Niall's been nothing but good to me.”

Niall, who had been standing quietly off to the side, takes a hesitant step forward. You can see the concern in his eyes, but it’s mixed with pain, knowing he’s the one who’s been caught in the middle of all this. He gently places a hand on your shoulder, trying to steady you. "Hey, (Y/N), I know you're upset. But we need to stay calm, alright?"

You spin around, your chest heaving as you face him, but there’s a softness in his eyes that cuts through your fury. “Calm? After that?” you snap, the words feeling heavy as they leave your mouth. "Niall, he’s not listening to me! And he’s hurting you! I can’t just stand there and let him get away with it. I—"

Niall gently squeezes your shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “I know you’re angry, love, but this isn’t helping. Louis is hurt too. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. He doesn’t want to see you hurt. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get through this together.”

You’re not sure whether to punch something or break down in tears. Your hands ball into fists, frustration still bubbling up inside you. "I’m not a little girl anymore, Niall," you say, your voice quieter now but still filled with hurt. "I shouldn’t have to fight for this. I shouldn’t have to fight for us."

Liam steps in, looking between you and Niall, clearly struggling to find the right words. “We just don’t want things to get worse, (Y/N). We know Louis can be a lot, but you need to take a step back. You need to think about how we can fix this, not make it worse.”

Zayn adds in, his calm voice like a balm to your raw emotions. “You know Louis doesn’t mean it like that. He’s just... scared. He’s protective, especially with you.”

“Protective?” you mutter bitterly. “He’s smothering me! He’s treating me like I can’t make my own decisions, like I’m incapable of understanding what’s best for me! I’m not a child anymore!”

“I know, love,” Niall says again, his voice gentle but full of compassion. “But we can’t force him to change overnight. Just... give him time. It’ll work out, I promise.”

Your chest tightens, but something about Niall’s words, his touch, begins to soothe you. You're still angry, but a part of you starts to realize that this fight is bigger than just you and Louis. It's about family, about understanding, and about finding a way to navigate these difficult emotions.

You take a deep breath, letting the tension out slowly, and give Niall a nod. “I’m just so tired, Niall... I’m tired of fighting for what feels right.”

Harry puts a hand on your shoulder, his voice full of empathy. “You’re not alone, (Y/N). We’ve got your back. We’re here for you.”

You nod again, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Thanks, guys."

The room falls into a somber silence for a moment, everyone absorbing the weight of the situation. The tension hangs in the air, but at least for now, you're not alone in it.

...

You stand outside Niall’s door, your heart twisting with guilt and worry. It’s late, and the house is silent, but sleep feels impossible after everything that happened. All you can think about is the hurt look in Niall’s eyes as Louis lashed out, the split lip, the bruise forming along his jaw. You hadn’t even stayed to check on him after the argument, too caught up in your own anger at Louis. Now, the weight of it feels unbearable.

You knock softly, barely a whisper of sound. “Niall?”

There’s a pause, and then his voice comes, quiet but warm. “Come in.”

When you open the door, you find him sitting on the edge of his bed, still in his clothes from earlier, his elbows resting on his knees. The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting shadows over his tired face. The sight of the cut on his lip and the purple blooming along his jaw makes your heart ache.

“Niall…” you whisper, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you.

He looks up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours, and despite the bruises, he smiles softly. “Hey, love. You okay?”

His concern for you, even now, only deepens your guilt. You shake your head, crossing the room quickly to stand in front of him. “I should be asking you that. I’m so sorry, Niall. I should’ve stayed with you. I was so angry at Louis, and I just—”

“Shh.” He reaches out, his hands finding yours and pulling you closer. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I get it. Louis was out of line, but so was I, pushing him like that. Don’t blame yourself.”

You shake your head again, tears threatening to spill. “No, it’s not okay. He hurt you, Niall. And I feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says firmly, his voice steady. “He’ll come around. And honestly, I’d take a hundred punches from Louis if it meant I got to be with you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the love and devotion in his voice so palpable it makes your chest ache. You kneel in front of him, your hands gently cradling his face. “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Your fingers trace softly along his bruised jawline, and his eyes flutter closed at your touch. You lean forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to the edge of the bruise, your lips barely brushing his skin. He exhales a shaky breath, his hands resting on your waist as you continue to kiss along the tender spots, trailing up to the corner of his mouth.

When you pull back slightly, your eyes meet his. There’s a moment of stillness, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. Then, like a magnet, you’re drawn back together, your lips finding his in a kiss that’s slow and deep, filled with all the emotions you can’t put into words.

He kisses you back just as passionately, his hands sliding up your sides to pull you onto his lap. His lips are warm and soft, though you can feel the slight sting of his split lip against yours. But he doesn’t seem to care, and neither do you.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you press your forehead to his, your fingers gently brushing over his cheek. “Did I hurt you?” you ask softly, your voice laced with worry. “Your lip… Does it hurt?”

He smiles, his eyes shining with affection. “Yeah, it does a bit.” Then, his grin widens. “But it’s worth it.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the night. “You’re impossible,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek, just below the bruise.

“I’m in love with you, you know,” he says suddenly, his voice low but certain.

Your heart skips a beat, and you pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “I know,” you say softly, a smile spreading across your lips. “And I love you too, Niall. So much.”

His smile is radiant despite the bruises, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. You curl up beside him on the bed, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrap around you securely.

As the minutes pass, the tension of the day melts away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. His fingers trace soothing patterns along your back, and you feel yourself drifting, the warmth of his embrace grounding you.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs sleepily, his voice a soft promise.

You nod against his chest, your eyes closing as you whisper, “As long as we have each other.”

And with that, you fall asleep in his arms, the world outside fading away, leaving only the love you share to carry you through whatever comes next.

...

It’s been a few weeks since the confrontation, and the tension in the house has been palpable. Louis has kept mostly to himself, barely speaking to anyone, giving them all the silent treatment. It’s like he’s built a wall around himself, and no one knows how to break through. The other boys have tried reaching out, but Louis has kept his distance, holding onto his hurt like a shield.

It’s obvious that Louis is still deeply upset—hurt by what happened between him and Niall, and especially by you. He’s not angry anymore, but you can feel the coldness in the air whenever he’s around. No more playful teasing, no more family banter. Just silence.

It doesn’t help that Niall has been trying to give him space, staying quiet and respectful, understanding that Louis needs time to process everything. You’ve tried talking to him, but Louis is still so distant. It feels like there’s a gap that can’t be bridged, and it’s heartbreaking. You’re stuck in a limbo, unsure of how to move forward.

But eventually, something shifts.

Louis begins talking to Liam, Harry, and Zayn again—slowly at first, and then more naturally, like the old days. He gives them brief apologies, especially to Liam, who was on the receiving end of his anger that night. Harry and Zayn, ever the mediators, do their best to make things right. You can tell Louis is trying, even if his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But when it comes to you and Niall, he stays quiet. He doesn't seek you out. The space between you and him remains, even as he’s mending his relationships with the others. It stings, but you can understand why. He’s still hurt by what happened. He doesn’t know how to look at you without remembering the anger and the hurt.

Then, one evening, it happens. Louis finally comes to you.

You’re sitting in the living room, curled up on the couch with Niall, the two of you quietly chatting, just enjoying the calm of the evening. You’ve both been trying to keep things as normal as possible, but the tension with Louis has been suffocating.

Suddenly, the door to the living room creaks open, and you look up to see Louis standing there. He’s not angry, but the sadness in his eyes is unmistakable. You and Niall exchange a look, both unsure of what to say or how to act.

Louis stands there for a moment, his gaze flickering between the two of you. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and his posture is stiff. It’s clear that whatever he’s about to say has been weighing on him.

Finally, he speaks, his voice quiet but steady. “Can we talk?”

You nod, your stomach flipping. “Of course, Louis. We... we need to talk.”

He walks further into the room, sitting down at the other end of the couch. It’s an awkward silence for a few seconds, the tension thick.

Louis takes a deep breath, as though gathering the courage to say something that’s been weighing on him for a long time. His voice is calm, quieter now, as he looks between you and Niall. "I’ve been angry, and I’ve been hurt. But I also know I’ve been holding onto that anger for too long. And it’s not doing any of us any good." His gaze softens as he looks at Niall, then back to you. "I see how much you care about each other, and I know I can’t stand in the way of that. I was just trying to protect you."

You feel a lump form in your throat, and Niall’s hand finds yours, giving you a gentle squeeze. Louis’s words—his genuine, heartfelt apology—are all you needed to hear.

"You’ve always been my protector, Lou," you say softly, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "But Niall’s always had my back too. He loves me, and I love him. We didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry we kept it from you. But we couldn’t keep hiding it."

Louis looks down at the floor for a moment, and when he speaks again, it’s with a deep sigh, his voice calmer, almost resigned. "I know, (Y/N). I know. I was just being... selfish, I guess." He looks at Niall now, his tone sincere. "You’ve always been there for her, Niall. And you... you proved something to me that night. That you love her enough to take whatever comes your way for her." His eyes meet yours again, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "If anyone’s good enough for you, it’s him."

Your heart swells at the words, and you see the sincerity in Louis’s eyes. The tension between you all seems to melt away, replaced by something softer—an understanding, a shared love, and a bond that no argument could break.

Niall gives Louis a small nod, his voice steady. "I’ll always protect her. No matter what." He gives you a reassuring smile, the warmth in his eyes reflecting his promise.

Louis exhales, rubbing a hand over his face as though releasing all the weight of the past few weeks. "I don’t like that it’s been this way," he admits, a chuckle escaping his lips. "But I want you two to be happy. Just promise me you’ll talk to me next time. No more secrets, okay?"

You nod, a small smile breaking through as you feel a sense of relief wash over you. "I promise, Lou."

Without warning, Louis moves toward you and Niall, his arms open wide. "Come here," he says, pulling both of you into a group hug. It’s tight, and you feel the sincerity in his embrace. You wrap your arms around him, feeling the love of your big brother who’s finally accepted what he couldn’t for so long.

Niall hugs you both, his hand on the back of Louis’s shoulder, the three of you holding on to each other in a quiet moment of understanding. The tension is gone. The walls are down. And in that moment, everything feels right again.

Louis pulls back just a little, looking at you both with a genuine, if still somewhat amused, smile. "I don’t know what’s next, but at least we’re all in this together now, yeah?"

You nod, your heart full as you look at Niall, then back at Louis. "Yeah. Together."

And with that, the air feels lighter, the weight of the past lifted. You’ve made it through the storm. There’s still work to do, but with the love and support of both your brother and Niall, you know you can face anything together.

[ev3rwh0re]

After Midnight - (frat boy Niall x reader) - Fic Request

Anonymous request: I love Niall frat boy's fics Who asked this is a queen. Following this line could you do something similar too with the theme 6th member of 1D but they trying to escape to bed from each other at night on the tour bus at night, something cute but smut too

Tags: Smut, fluff

The hum of the tour bus engine is the only sound filling the small, dimly lit space as you quietly make your way to the bunk section. The rest of the band is already fast asleep, their soft snores and rustling blankets proof of how tiring the day had been. But your heart races—not from exhaustion, but anticipation.

You reach Niall’s bunk and pull back the curtain just enough to peek inside. He’s already waiting for you, a smirk playing on his lips as he shifts over to make room. “Took you long enough,” he teases in a hushed whisper, his Irish accent curling around the words like silk.

Rolling your eyes, you climb in beside him, careful not to make any noise. The space is impossibly small, forcing your bodies close. His arm snakes around your waist immediately, pulling you snug against him. “Missed me?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

“You saw me twenty minutes ago,” you reply, your voice barely audible as you try to stifle a laugh.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you,” he shoots back, his tone equal parts cheeky and sincere.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that comes naturally after weeks of sneaking moments like this. His hand lazily traces patterns on your back, and you find yourself relaxing against him, your head resting on his chest.

But it’s not always this easy. Sneaking into his bunk every night has become a careful dance of timing and silence. The other boys aren’t stupid—they’ve noticed how you and Niall seem to disappear at the same time, how you’re both always the last to emerge in the morning.

Louis, especially, has made a game out of trying to catch you. Just last week, he’d pretended to sleepwalk, yanking back random curtains in the middle of the night, claiming he was “looking for snacks.” You’d barely had time to duck under Niall’s blanket, and his hand had clamped over your mouth to stifle your giggles.

“I swear, one of these days Louis is going to catch us,” you whisper now, thinking of how close the near-miss had been.

Niall chuckles softly, the vibration rumbling through his chest. “Let him,” he says, his voice low and cocky. “He’d just be jealous he doesn’t have someone to keep him warm.”

You swat at him lightly, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“And yet, here you are,” he counters, his grin audible in his voice.

Despite the risk, there’s something thrilling about these stolen moments—the way you have to tiptoe past the others, the whispered conversations, the shared warmth in the tiny bunk. It’s become your haven, your shared secret.

As the bus rounds a sharp corner, you both instinctively shift to keep from falling out of the bunk. Niall tightens his grip on you, his nose brushing against your temple. “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispers, his voice softer now, almost protective.

The dim light filtering through the edges of the curtain casts shadows over Niall’s face, but you can still see the mischief in his eyes as he shifts against you. His hand slides slowly from your back, trailing along your hip and settling on your thigh.

“Niall,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, a mix of warning and anticipation.

“Shh, love,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips just graze your ear. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod instinctively, your breath hitching as his fingers start to move, teasing along the edge of your sleep shorts. The sensation sends a rush of heat through you, your body already responding to his touch.

“Good,” he whispers, his voice low and confident. “Then let me take care of you.”

His hand slips beneath the fabric, his touch firm yet teasing as he explores the sensitive skin there. You bite your lip hard, trying to suppress the gasp that threatens to escape when his fingers dip lower, finding exactly where you want him most.

“Jesus, you’re already so ready for me,” he mutters, his voice full of that cocky edge you know so well. He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with himself, as his fingers begin to work, slow and deliberate.

You can’t help the small sound that escapes your lips, and Niall’s free hand moves quickly, covering your mouth before you can make another noise. His palm is warm and firm against your skin, and the dominance of the gesture only heightens the intensity of what he’s doing to you.

“Quiet, love,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “Unless you want the whole bus to know what I’m doing to you.”

The idea of being caught sends a jolt of adrenaline through you, making every touch feel even more electric. You grip his arm tightly, your nails digging into his skin as his fingers find a rhythm that drives you closer to the edge.

“Feel good?” he asks, his voice a smug whisper. You nod against his hand, your breath coming in shallow pants as the pleasure builds, overwhelming and impossible to fight.

He leans in, his lips ghosting over your neck as he murmurs, “That’s my girl. Let go for me.”

His words, his touch, the way he’s watching you with that cocky, self-satisfied grin—it’s all too much. Your body shudders as the tension inside you snaps, waves of pleasure crashing over you. You press your face into his chest, muffling the soft cries you can’t hold back as he works you through every second of it, his hand never faltering.

When the last tremors subside, you collapse against him, your body spent and your heart pounding. He finally moves his hand from your mouth, brushing a thumb over your cheek with surprising tenderness.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You can barely find the words to respond, still caught in the haze of what just happened. But Niall doesn’t need an answer—his grin says it all. “Told you I’d take care of you,” he says smugly, pulling you closer as if nothing in the world could pry you apart.

You’re still catching your breath, your body nestled against Niall’s when the thought strikes you—a surge of boldness you didn’t know you had. His arm is draped lazily around your waist, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin as he smirks down at you, that cocky grin impossible to ignore.

“You look smug,” you whisper, your voice hushed but teasing.

“Shouldn’t I be?” he replies, his grin widening. “Didn’t hear you complaining a second ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you shift in his arms, turning to face him fully. “You think you’ve got all the control, don’t you?”

He chuckles softly, leaning in until your noses almost touch. “That’s because I do, love.”

The challenge in his voice is all it takes. Your hand moves under the blanket, sliding over his chest and down his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. His breath hitches, barely perceptible, but enough to tell you you’re on the right track.

His smirk falters for a moment, his cocky confidence giving way to something more primal as your hand slips lower, brushing against the waistband of his shorts. “What are you doing?” he whispers, his voice low and full of heat.

“Returning the favor,” you reply simply, your lips quirking in a smile as your fingers dip under the fabric, finding him already hard and warm against your palm.

Niall swears softly under his breath, his hips twitching involuntarily as you wrap your hand around him. “Jesus,” he mutters, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Shh,” you tease, leaning in to press your lips against his. The kiss is slow and deliberate, a perfect contrast to the steady rhythm of your hand. Every movement draws a quiet sound from him—a muffled groan, a sharp intake of breath—and you can feel his resolve slipping with every second.

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he fights to stay quiet. “You’re gonna get us caught,” he mutters, though there’s no real conviction in his voice.

“Then be quiet,” you whisper against his lips, your tone full of playful defiance.

His laugh is strained, but his cocky demeanor hasn’t faded entirely. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice ragged as your hand moves faster, more deliberate now.

You don’t answer, letting your actions speak for you. Instead, you kiss him again, your mouth capturing his to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. His hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to maintain control.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers against your lips, his voice cracking with tension. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You can feel him trembling beneath you, his breathing shallow and uneven as he teeters on the edge. His forehead presses against yours again, his eyes squeezing shut as a quiet, broken groan escapes him. “That’s it,” you murmur, your voice soft but commanding. “Let go.”

His release is silent but intense, his body shuddering against yours as he gives in completely. His grip on your hips tightens for a moment before loosening as he slumps back against the mattress, utterly spent.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the soft hum of the bus engine and your mingled breaths as you come down from the moment.

Finally, Niall breaks the silence, his cocky grin slowly returning. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he says, his voice rough but full of humor.

“Is that a complaint?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” he replies, pulling you into his arms again. “But don’t think for a second I’m letting you get the last word.”

His words are a promise, one that sends a thrill through you as you settle against him, your heart still racing from the thrill of what you’ve just done.

...

The early morning sun filters through the cracks in the curtains, casting soft light onto the otherwise still tour bus. You stir awake, feeling the warmth of Niall’s arm draped over your waist. He’s still asleep, his face relaxed, his lips slightly parted as a faint snore escapes him.

For a moment, you let yourself bask in the warmth of him, the way his body molds so perfectly against yours in the tiny bunk. But that calm is short-lived as you hear the faint shuffle of footsteps moving around the bus.

“Niall,” you whisper sharply, shaking him lightly. “Someone’s awake.”

He groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Relax,” he mumbles, his voice low and rough with sleep. “They’re not gonna look in here.”

But before you can argue, the curtain is yanked back with absolutely no warning.

“Oi! What the—” Louis’s voice cuts through the quiet, loud and unmistakably delighted.

Your eyes widen in horror as he stares at the two of you, tangled together under the blanket. His gaze flicks between Niall, still half-asleep and shirtless, and you, desperately trying to pull the covers up to hide yourself.

“Louis!” you hiss, your voice high-pitched and panicked. “Ever heard of knocking?”

Louis blinks once, then bursts into uncontrollable laughter. He leans against the side of the bunk for support, tears forming in his eyes. “Oh, this is brilliant. I knew it! I bloody knew it!”

“Louis, shut it,” Niall grumbles, his voice thick with irritation but still laced with that unmistakable cocky edge. He sits up slightly, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “Not like it’s your business.”

“Not my business?” Louis wheezes, still laughing. “Mate, you’ve been sneaking her into your bunk for weeks, haven’t you? Don’t deny it.”

By now, the commotion has woken everyone else. Harry pokes his head out from his bunk, his curls sticking up in every direction. “What’s going on?” he asks groggily, his eyes squinting against the light.

“Caught the lovebirds,” Louis announces proudly, gesturing dramatically to you and Niall.

Harry blinks at the two of you, then grins, stretching lazily. “Finally,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Zayn appears next, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking far too amused. “Honestly, I’m just glad it’s out in the open,” he says casually, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep with you two carrying on right below me? That bunk isn’t soundproof, you know.”

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face. “Oh my god, Zayn!”

“Just saying,” he adds with a shrug, clearly enjoying your mortification.

You bury your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear, but Niall? He’s completely unbothered. “Can’t help it if she gets a little carried away,” he says, flashing Zayn a cocky grin.

Zayn snorts. “Right, sure, blame her.”

“Alright, what’s going on?” Liam’s voice cuts through the chaos as he steps into the scene, looking far more awake than anyone else. His eyes flick to you and Niall, still crammed together in the tiny bunk, and he raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Louis says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “They’ve been sneaking around for weeks, apparently.”

Liam sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already tired of the drama. But when he glances at you, his expression softens. “Well… at least it’s not some random stranger,” he mutters, almost to himself.

The teasing continues as the boys start listing all the “obvious” signs they’d apparently noticed—Niall’s lingering looks, your mysterious disappearances, the times you both emerged from the bunk area looking suspiciously disheveled.

“Could’ve been sneakier,” Liam points out with a shrug.

“Could’ve been louder,” Zayn quips with a smirk, earning a collective groan from everyone.

“Alright, enough,” Niall says, his grin firmly in place. He leans back against the bunk wall, pulling you closer with an arm around your shoulders. “You’re all just jealous I’ve got her and you don’t.”

“Jealous?” Louis says, his voice high-pitched with mock offense. “As if! I just can’t believe she puts up with you.”

“She doesn’t mind,” Niall says smugly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The boys groan again, their complaints drowned out by Louis declaring this his new favorite thing to tease you about.

You sigh, hiding your face in Niall’s shoulder as he chuckles softly, clearly enjoying every second of it. Life on tour just got a lot more complicated—but judging by the way Niall’s holding you close, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ev3rwh0re]

art donaldson headcannons

summary: art donaldson is my gf (confirmed)

warnings/content: gn!reader, non-tennis!reader, fluff, cursing

word count: 370

masterlist a. d. masterlist

- its pretty much written on the wall.

- this man is quite clingy. he really likes you</3

- not the type of clingy that is unhealthy; the type of clingy where he always asks about your day and has to sit next to you all the time

- he notices when you need space, though.

- BUT- when he has a shitty day, he immediately wants to tell you about it.

- “honey, the my coach said the worst fuckin’ thing to me today i-“

- he just likes hearing you talk. he’s so dialed in when you speak to him.

- his love language is a mix of quality time and physical touch

- holds your hand whenever possible

- will lowkey pout if you pull your hand away for whatever reason

- pays. all the time. will fight you for it.

- oh, you liked something? it’s yours now lol

- “this is kinda cute”

- “yeah? you want it?”

- “i did not say that”

- hugs from behind (corny:/)

- kisses your shoulder and neck when he hugs from behind

- “why’d you get out of bed?”

- “i woke up when you left. i got cold.”

- will personally invite you to every one of his tennis games. even though you were already planning on going.

- waves at you between sets and blows kisses

- biggest bear hugs after games 😩

- speaking of hugs, his hugs are very long. he specifically puts his arms around your waist (so that yours are around his shoulders/neck) and has his face in your neck

- makes sure he’s giving the majority of the time

- has your order memorized at like every restaurant

- this is oddly specific, but if you’re at a movie, he puts up the arm rest so you two can sit really close together.

- talks shit with you.

- “she’s SUCH a bitch. i CANNOT believe she’d say that to you”

- touchy out of adoration

- hand on the waist, hand on the thigh, etc. bro has literal heart eyes

- asks to do little things together

- INSISTS on going grocery shopping together, even if you don’t live together.

[ev3rwh0re]

[ev3rwh0re]

Zendaya & Mike Faist CHALLENGERS (2024), dir. Luca Guadagnino

[ev3rwh0re]

scrolling through the challengers tag on here is so fun because you never know what youre gonna get. one second it’s “ughhh guys he’s so cute i need to pinch his cheeks” and the next it’s like “i need him to take complete control over my body and soul. would fuck for hours. my thoughts on this later.” and i love it

[ev3rwh0re]

Boyfriend Art going to a boys night out and getting drunk and Patrick calling you to go get your boyfriend because he's been talking about you the whole time and talking about how much he is in love with you and all and when you go back home things lead to a hot makeout session while he's telling how much he's so lucky to be your boyfriend and how he is so obsessed with you

this is so cute omg.. i need bf art in my life so bad!!!

all you wanted was a chill night in, no parties, no loud neighbors, and no hangovers. when art said that patrick invited him to a frat party on the other side of campus, sitting at the foot of your bed with puppy dog eyes, you couldn't say no. but, you made him promise not to come back too drunk or too late. art agreed, letting patrick drag him to the party around 10.

it was almost 1 now, and you were cuddled up in your blankets binge watching your favorite show when you felt your phone vibrate from under the mountain of fuzzy fabric. patricks caller id flashed on the screen as you accepted the call.

"patrick? what's up, are you guys okay?"

"hey um.. art got pretty wasted tonight.. he got a hold of some pink whitney and you know how he gets so.."

you sigh, shaking your head, before you hear some rustling on the other end of the line.

"'s this her?" you hear a little hiccup from the voice you now recognize as arts. "'m sorry baby i didn't know it was g'nna get m' drunk.." another hiccup "feels like the room is spinning.." another rustle.

"yeah well.. you heard him.. can you come pick him up? ill send you our location"

you agree to drive over, pulling on one of arts old hoodies and driving over as quick as you can. pulling up at the frat house, you see a scattering of red solo cups on the lawn, along with some beer cans. you wait in your car for a minute before you see patrick helping art down the front steps, and you open your door when patrick helps strap art in. patrick pokes his head through the window, "again, sorry about this, he just kept asking for you.." patrick sighs, looking at art, whose gaze is fixed only on you. arts watery blue eyes look at you like you've hung the stars themselves, and it isn't even only because he's drunk, he looks at you that way always.

the drive home is quiet, with arts occasional hiccups disrupting the silence. art leans over when you're at a stoplight, the red lights illuminating his face, "'m really sorry.. i didn't wan' you to be angry at me" he says, pouting at you as you continue the drive home. you shake your head, "im not mad at you art, i just always want you to be safe okay? i don't want to have to worry about you so much.." art hangs his head and nods, falling quiet again.

by the time you arrive at your dorm, arts still hiccuping, stumbling over his own feet as you usher him into your room, not keen of waking anyone up at the early hour of the morning. art flops onto your bed, his head bouncing on your pillow, the movement causing a groan to erupt from his lips.

you root around in your drawers, trying to find an old pair of his boxers and a shirt. suddenly, you feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, a head presses against your neck and you feel a sigh of warm air against you. "art.. go sit on the bed" you sigh, pulling some clothes out for him. art presses wet kisses along your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your skin. "'m sorry.. please f'give me.. didn't mean to make you angry" he whines, squeezing your waist. you shake you head, turning around in his arms, "im not angry art.. please go sit down so you can change.." you sigh, breaking away from his arms and leading him to the bed. art sits on the edge of the bed, his alcohol-muddled brain causing him to stare off into space. you tap art's arms, silently asking him to raise them, pulling his stained shirt off of his body with ease.

you can't deny it.. any anger that was in your body when you drove art home is gone now, seeing his slightly messy hair and pale skin glowing in the moonlight only makes you want to take care of him more. once his shirt is off you hand him an older t-shirt he left at your place, watching him put it on before handing him some pajama pants. you get art situated in bed, walking to the kitchen and filling up a glass of water and walking back.

art looks up at you blearily, tucked into the corner of your bed and where it meets the wall. you slide into bed next to him, feeling his body slump into yours once again, his face smushed into your shoulder. his hiccups have gone now, just soft breaths against your skin. it's completely silent, until art takes a sharp breath in. "i- i don' think patrick told you but everyone at the party was so annoyed with me.. couldn't stop talking about you.." that catches your attention, making your heart thump in your chest. "i swear patrick wanted to kill me, i know he's just jealous though.." you can't help but fall for the bait, "whys he jealous?" you ask. art presses closer to you, his nose almost touching yours, "cuz you're perfect.. 'n sweet 'n amazing.." he presses a small peck on your lips for each word, a tipsy smile emerging on his face. his smile is infectious, and you can't help but kiss him back, smiling against his lips, "is that so?" you add. he huffs against you, letting you take the lead against his clumsy lips. you can still taste the sweet liquor on his lips, almost making you feel intoxicated yourself. art leans into you more, placing his hands on your knees and moving further. "'s true.. 'm fuckin' obsessed with you.." he groans out, now growing more confident in his movements.

you let the kiss grow more heated until you feel arts hands starting to creep under your shirt, and you pull away slowly, letting a string of drool connect you. art blinks at you, confused. "why'd you stop?" he practically pouts. "you're drunk art, you know i love you but you gotta sleep this off" you say, sweeping a thumb on his cheek. as if on cue, art yawns, only proving your point. he slumps into bed, pulling up a blanket from the foot of your bed. "fine.. but we continue this tomorrow, yeah?" he asks, one last request before falling asleep. "sure, sure art" you reply, running your fingers through his soft blond hair. you're sure art won't remember all of this in the morning, but you sure as hell won't let him forget it <3

[ev3rwh0re]

need that art fic right neowwwwww !!!!! miss that man like no other 😞😞😞

ok fine!!! here you go!!! i hope you're happy!!! (based on this blurb)

art is a very sensitive person that's a fact, sometimes it's cute but sometimes it gets on your nerves because it's so easy for him to sulk over the smallest things. you didn't even mean to get mad at him, you were on your period and he was being very clingy that it was all just too much. you told him to leave you alone for a bit, tone harsher than intended, and he took it to heart. he left your dorm without saying anything else.

you know he'd come back sooner or later, he can't last a day without seeing you and touching you. so you decided to have fun with it. he comes by your dorm everyday after practice and while waiting, you borrowed your roommate's pheromone perfume that she bought to seduce her crush or something, which according to her worked but with the wrong person. you rolled it on everywhere, your neck, wrists, collarbones– everywhere you knew art loved to nuzzle his pretty nose in.

you were snuggled in your bed when the door opened, you knew it was him without even turning around, by the sound of his duffle bag dropping onto the floor and heavy footsteps towards your bed. the bed dips behind you and his body is immediately attached to yours, he's nuzzling into your neck and arms tightly around your waist. "baby, i'm sorry" he mutters.

you hum, trying to hide your smile as you wait for him to notice. it didn't take long for him to sniff your skin. "you smell good, what is that?"

you turn around in his arms, eyes soft as you see his puppy like expression. "got a new perfume" you smile at him, resting your hand on his cheek. he doesn't respond, instead nuzzling his face deeper into your neck and leaving kisses everywhere, making you giggle.

"you ready for dinner?" you ask, scratching his head. you feel him shake his head no, "dinner can wait" he pulls the cover up to slide in beside you, trapping you under his body. you don't miss the way he's getting harder and harder against your thighs. maybe you accidentally put on too much but oh well, now you know it definitely works.

[ev3rwh0re]

reader trying to convince mike to take a day off of work ‘cause he’s sick and then taking care of him?? 😉

Hope i delivered well!!!

She woke up early to make breakfast that morning and she was soon followed by Mike, who approached her by wrapping his arms around her and muffling a "Good morning" into her hair.

"Morning" she says smiling.

He helps her out with breakfast. Before sitting down he turns around to cough. After that he goes to take the coffee pot to put in on the table and another cough comes out, which he covers with his elbow. It's a heavy cough and you can tell it scratched his throat by the look on his face.

"Woah... are you okay?" she asks him. Before he can answer, he sneezes.

"Okay, eat something and then you're going back to bed, alright?" she tells him.

"What? No, no, no, I have to go to work" he says back.

"I don't think so if you're going to sneeze and cough around everybody, finish your breakfast and go to bed"

"Baby, I can't call in sick at work last minute..."he insists but another cough betrays him.

"Baby, you can't go to work like that. They'll survive one day without you"

That's her final say and she wins. After breakfast he goes back to bed. The coughs keep getting worse and then he says that his stomach starts to hurt too.

"You need to rest, okay? Relax, now..." she caresses his hair because that's something that helps him drift off to sleep.

By later in the morning, a little fever started to run up so she prepared a bowl with cold water and a cloth.

While he was asleep, she rubbed his forehead with the fresh cloth. And then his cheeks, tapping lightly on his face. She felt so close to him in that moment, so protective of him. It just felt so good being able to take care of him while he wasn't feeling well.

"It's nice..." he says with closed eyes.

"Yeah? They don't do this at work..." she responds.

"No, they don't... You shouldn't stay this close to me, you'll take a fever too" he says not avoiding her touch at all but adjusting his body next to hers.

"Well you slept in this bed anyway and you touched all the things I had breakfast with so I think I'm gonna take it anyway" she says.

"Mmh, makes sense" he takes her hand and kisses it.

He sits up to blow his nose, very loudly.

"Woah" she says, "That was not very pretty of you"

He hums back to her and puts the tissue on his side table. She notices his red nose and smiles at him.

"You're still very cute tho"

"I don't feel cute at all" he says with a very nasal voice.

"You are, I swear" she then gets up from the bed, "I'm gonna bring you some water, you have to drink a lot"

She goes downstairs to bring him some water and then sits on the bed to refresh the wet cloth and put it back on his forehead.

He looks at her lovingly. She looks back at him almost unable to hold that gaze for much longer, so she downs her gaze and smiles.

"I'm gonna run you a warm bath..."

"Ok..." he answers.

Before going to the bathroom she caresses his face.

[ev3rwh0re]

HUHHHHH wait mike getting lowkey seriously hurt on set (like falling doing stunts/practice/shooting a physical scene) and reader heading over to the place the set is at (or like a hospital depending on how serious the injury is) worried as hell, then maybe taking care of him and sharing fluffy moments together but also being kind of angry at him for stressing her out so much and not being careful enough 😕<3

You got a call from one of Mike's costars telling you he broke his foot during a dancing routine. You got so scared when they told you to rush on set as soon as possible cause he got injured.

And that's what you did, you rushed there and asked for Mike. He was in his trailer, surrounded by a lot of people and a doctor that was stabilizing his foot.

"Hi, honey" he says when he sees you.

You look at him, panting from running so fast.

"What happened?" you ask him, getting beside him.

"Nothing, really... I didn't put my foot right and I slipped. I'm fine" he explains.

You sigh. You're mad at him for making you run to his work place but you're also worried about his foot and you also want to laugh at him for being so unfocused to slip and you're curious cause you would have loved to see him fall to the ground.

"Okay, so the foot is now stabilized, you're gonna have to keep your leg up for the first few weeks and not put your weight on it for any reason. We'll get it checked in 3 weeks" the doctor says.

She's a beautiful woman with very kind eyes.

He smiles at her, "Thank you, doctor"

The other people in the trailer start to get out and the doctor is the last person to get out.

"Take care of yourself, Mike" she says, and this time she smiles at him too.

"I will" he greets her.

She gets out too.

You look at him, "I'm sorry, should have I got out and left you two alone?" you tell him, visibly irritated.

He looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Baby... come on...," he starts.

"No, it's okay... How should I get you out of here?" you ask him, given that he can't jump his way on one foot to your car.

"You can call Zack and he'll get me to the car" he says.

So you do and you get him home.

There, you get him on the couch and lift his leg up. You get up and look at him with your hands on your hips. You don't even know what to say. You don't want to be mad at him cause he didn't fall on purpose but you are anyway.

You sit next to him and sigh.

You feel him looking at you. His gaze on you is heavy so you turn your head to look at him and he smiles a little.

"Don't make that face" you say pushing his face away.

"I'm sorry, baby... I don't want to be a burden for you..." he starts.

"I know you didn't do it on purpose but I just wish you were a little more careful with yourself. I love to take care of you but I can't just do that"

"I promise I'll take care of you when I'm healed" he says.

"Oh yeah? And how?" you ask. He smirks a little, insinuating on a very specific activity. You try not to smile and turn your head away.

"Shut up... not after your little exchanging gazes with that doctor..." you say, becoming serious all of a sudden.

"Come on..." he reaches out for your hand but you get away from his grip.

"Uh uh... no"

"Baby" he says firmly and reaches further so that he's able to take your hand and pull you to his side, "I just want you..."

You look up at him and find his lips in a tender kiss, then you pinch his chin.

"We're changing doctor to check on your foot in 3 weeks" you say firmly.

He laughs, "Fine"

You get on top of him, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, you're not on my foot..."

"Shh..." you kiss him again.

[ev3rwh0re]

got inspired by these pics!! mike and reader throwing a cute little cooking/board game party and inviting a close knit group of friends then their social batteries being completely drained once it’s over and everyone leaves, trying to finally enjoy some peace and quiet while being exhausted together!! don’t get them wrong, they had so much fun playing and getting drunk with their buddies but they’re both introverts so they do love their time away from everything & everyone and their personal moments together.

"Bye, thank you so much for coming" you say greeting goodbye the last few people to leave the apartment. Mike says goodbye from the couch, his eyes already closed.

You reach him and literally throw yourself on the couch. You look around the apartment. It's a mess: red solo cups everywhere, empty bottles on every surface and left over food on the table.

"We should clean this up before going to bed" you say.

Mike lets out a growl, signaling he doesn't want to. You tap his shoulder, "Come on, just five minutes, we just have to throw everything in the garbage and get that good in the fridge" you encourage him, even if you're not moving yourself.

He looks at you, "How do you have the power to make me get up from the couch when I'm this wasted?" he says.

"Well, that's the power of love" you slap his leg lightly and finally get up.

Both of you clean up the apartment just enough not to find a mess when you wake up in a few hours.

"Ok... let's go to bed"

You get in your bedroom and Mike tries to take off his shirt to change into his Pj shirt but somehow he drops his arms and huffs.

"What are you doing?"

"Can I just get in bed like this?" he says referring to the clothes he's been wearing the whole day.

"Absolutely not!" you say and help him out taking off his shirt.

"Oh and see how you took that possibility..." he says smirking.

"Just hurry, idiot"

You get in bed. He gets in too and he reaches for you waist and hides his head in the crook of your neck. You hold his head.

"Finally some peace and quiet" he says, his voice muffled as he speaks into your neck.

"I know, right?" you say back.

You had a really fun night with just the right people but after a bit you just get enough and can't wait to go back to the two of you alone in your quiet apartment.

You guys cuddle up in your bed laughing about the fun moments that happened during the night so now the apartment isn't so quiet anymore but it's filled with loud laughs.

Then Austin joined you two on the bed and the peace was yet restored. You, Mike and your dog together.

You kiss his head. He caresses the skin of your arms with his fingers.

You kiss his lips.

"Goodnight, baby" you say.

"Goodnight" he says kissing your head.

[ev3rwh0re]

LORD HAVE MERCY.

📸: @/markgmeadows (mark supremacy!)

[ev3rwh0re]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BJ1OpDAgjMQ/?igsh=ZW5jZnZvYXF2ZDdr

That one 1.5 minute performance of Close Every Door has very quickly become my top comfort BG song so this new video just made me break down crying thank you for this (I will say, it does still feel wrong to be watching it 😭)

[ev3rwh0re]

CHAPPELL ROAN performing at the 2024 MTV VMAs | via COSMOPOLITAN (september 11th, 2024)