#Niall horan x reader

[niallerspayno]

How they react to getting caught under the mistletoe with you

A little drabble about how each of the boys would react to being caught under the mistletoe with you🎄

…

Niall

You’re laughing with the group, enjoying the cozy holiday atmosphere, when Niall’s gaze flicks up to the mistletoe hanging just above you. His eyes widen slightly, and he glances down at the ground, as if debating whether he should say something. But the teasing whispers of the others quickly bring his attention back to you.

The room falls into a quiet anticipation as Niall steps closer, his usual easy smile a little more nervous now. He clears his throat, his face turning a shade redder than usual. “Uh… I think we’re supposed to…” He trails off, his voice a little uncertain, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that betrays his shyness.

You can’t help but smile at how awkwardly adorable he looks. “Yeah, I guess we are,” you reply, your voice soft and teasing as you look up at the mistletoe, then back at him.

Niall chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m not sure what I’m doing, but… guess we’ll find out.” He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours with that familiar warmth that always makes you feel at ease. He leans in, his breath mixing with yours, and for a moment, everything else seems to fade away.

His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, like he’s testing the waters. The kiss is soft, slow, the kind of first kiss that feels like it’s been waiting to happen for a long time. Niall’s hand finds the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he deepens the kiss just slightly, a little more confident now.

You can feel the tenderness in his touch, the quiet reassurance that this moment, this kiss, means more than just a tradition—it’s the beginning of something real, something special.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, a soft smile curling on Niall’s lips. He looks at you, his eyes shining with something unreadable but full of warmth. “Wow,” he says softly, his voice almost in awe. “I didn’t expect that to feel like… that.”

You laugh quietly, your heart racing in the best way. “Yeah, me neither.”

Niall chuckles, a little embarrassed but still glowing. “Merry Christmas, love,” he says, his hand still gently holding yours. And even though the teasing from the others begins, you’re both lost in the soft afterglow of that first kiss, your hearts in sync.

Liam

Liam notices the mistletoe hanging above you both almost immediately. He pauses mid-conversation, his gaze flicking to the leafy sprig before his eyes shift back to you. There’s a quiet moment, and you catch the brief hesitation in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything right away, just stands still for a second, as if considering the situation carefully.

The others begin to notice the shift, teasing whispers filling the air. But Liam stays calm, his expression thoughtful. He steps closer, his movements deliberate, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, and when he speaks, his voice is low and soft, almost as if he’s just sharing a secret with you. “Looks like we’re under the mistletoe,” he says, his tone both playful and sincere.

You nod, your heart beating a little faster, and before you can even respond, Liam’s hand gently reaches out to touch the side of your arm, his touch warm and comforting. “I’ve… been waiting for this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words catch you off guard, but before you can process them fully, Liam leans in. His lips brush yours with careful, deliberate tenderness. It’s the kind of kiss that feels so familiar, like it’s been building for far longer than just this moment. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, the kiss deepening with a quiet intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Liam’s kiss isn’t rushed or uncertain—there’s a surety to it, like he’s been waiting for the right moment to finally close the gap between you. His lips move gently against yours, a mix of sweetness and something more powerful that sends a flutter through your chest. When he pulls back just a fraction, his forehead rests gently against yours, both of you breathless but content.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, as if the kiss had meant something more than just a holiday tradition. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, his hand still resting on your neck, as if grounding himself in the moment.

When you open your eyes, you find him looking at you with a mix of admiration and something deeper, something unspoken but clear. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits, his voice soft but sincere.

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words settling in your chest. “Me too.”

The others tease you both, but Liam simply holds your gaze, a small, content smile tugging at the corners of his lips. For once, it doesn’t matter what anyone else is saying. In this moment, you’re both just there, lost in each other’s presence.

Zayn

Zayn’s eyes flicker upward when he spots the mistletoe hanging above the two of you. For a split second, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his gaze—his usual calm, collected demeanor momentarily faltering. He seems to gather himself before offering a small, knowing smirk, the kind of expression that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Well, this is unexpected,” he says, his voice smooth and low, with that signature coolness you’ve come to admire. He steps toward you slowly, his movements deliberate, and for a moment, the teasing of the others fades into the background. It’s just the two of you now, and Zayn’s intensity is palpable.

You feel the air between you shift as Zayn leans in slightly, his face close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. He’s not rushing this—he takes his time, studying you with that steady, almost magnetic gaze. His hand finds the small of your back, his fingers grazing your skin through the fabric of your sweater, sending a shiver up your spine.

There’s a quiet tension in the air, the kind that makes your heart race. “I didn’t think I’d be here, doing this tonight,” Zayn admits, his voice hushed but earnest. “But I guess I’m not complaining.”

Before you can respond, he’s gently cupping your face with his free hand, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. You can feel your breath catch in your throat, and when his lips finally meet yours, it’s not rushed or tentative. It’s deep, slow, and filled with something undeniable, as though he’s been wanting this for longer than either of you realized.

Zayn’s kiss is intense, almost magnetic, and it pulls you into him like gravity. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you a little closer, and there’s an urgency in the way his lips move against yours, as if he’s been holding back a tidal wave of emotions that finally crash over both of you in this kiss.

It’s not playful like Louis, or tender like Liam—it’s raw, passionate, and completely consuming, leaving you breathless when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. You both stand there for a moment, eyes closed, sharing the quiet aftershock of the kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” Zayn murmurs, his voice rough and low, his thumb brushing against your lips as though savoring the taste of the moment. He doesn’t say anything more, but the quiet smile that tugs at his lips says everything—there’s a depth to his gaze now, something soft but filled with a quiet intensity that lingers even as the others tease in the background.

When he looks at you again, his gaze is softer, almost playful. “Guess I’ll be counting down the days until the next time,” he adds, with a small, knowing smirk.

Louis

Louis notices the mistletoe before anyone else does, and the second he spots it, he flashes a mischievous grin in your direction. His eyes twinkle with a playful energy, and you can already tell he’s up to something.

“Well, well, well…” Louis says with a dramatic flourish, his voice filled with exaggerated excitement. He steps closer to you, clearly relishing the moment. “Looks like someone’s gonna have to kiss me,” he says, his grin widening. “Don’t worry, love, I promise I’m a gentleman.”

You can’t help but laugh at how confident he is, but there’s an undeniable warmth in his eyes that lets you know he’s being sincere, despite his playful banter. He stands directly in front of you now, a mischievous glint still in his gaze.

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, “Are you sure you’re ready for that, Louis?”

“Oh, I’m more than ready,” he says with a wink, taking a step closer until there’s hardly any space between you. He lowers his voice, his tone softer now. “But I think it’ll be worth the wait.”

Before you can respond, Louis leans in, his hand brushing against your cheek as his lips hover just inches from yours. There’s a moment of quiet anticipation, and then, with a sudden burst of confidence, he presses his lips to yours.

His kiss is bold, filled with energy and laughter, but there’s a depth to it that takes you by surprise. It’s not rushed—though he’s the playful one, there’s a sincerity to the way he kisses you, a moment where the teasing fades and all that’s left is the simple connection between you two.

As he pulls back, a wide grin spreads across his face, and he looks at you with that familiar, mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Told you I was a gentleman,” he says with a wink, his voice playful but soft.

You laugh, a little breathless from the kiss, but the moment feels easy, lighthearted, and somehow… perfect. Louis doesn’t let the teasing stop, but the energy between you two is different now, and there’s a warmth in his gaze that matches the glow of the Christmas lights around you.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he adds, his voice still light and teasing, but his smile now a little softer, a little more sincere.

Harry

When Harry spots the mistletoe hanging above you, a small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. His usual calm and collected demeanor remains, but there’s something different in the way he looks at you—a softness that wasn’t there before. He takes a small step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Well, this is convenient,” he says, his voice low and smooth, with a hint of playfulness. There’s no teasing in his words, just a quiet acknowledgment that the moment is here. He steps into your space, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background. It’s just the two of you, standing under the mistletoe with the world softly humming around you.

Harry gently reaches for your hand, his touch warm and gentle. The space between you feels charged, and you can see the unspoken emotions reflected in his eyes. It’s clear he’s thought about this, and now that the moment is finally here, there’s a sense of quiet certainty in his movements.

“Guess this is the part where I kiss you, then,” he says, his voice soft but confident.

You nod, your heart fluttering at the way he’s looking at you, his gaze tender and filled with something deeper. He leans in slowly, as if savoring every second of the moment. His lips meet yours in a soft, careful kiss, and it’s like everything slows down—his warmth, the gentleness of his touch, the feeling of his lips against yours is everything you’ve wanted in a first kiss and more.

The kiss is gentle, tender, and yet there’s something undeniable about it—a connection that goes beyond the mistletoe, beyond the holiday tradition. It’s as if all the words you couldn’t say are being expressed through this one quiet, meaningful kiss.

When Harry pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, and he smiles softly, a little shy but still radiating that familiar warmth.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

You smile, your heart racing from the intensity of the kiss. “Me too,” you reply softly.

Harry chuckles, the sound low and rich, before he pulls back just slightly, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. His gaze is full of something unspoken, something more than just a holiday kiss—it’s the beginning of something deeper.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he adds with a smile, before he leans in again, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your forehead, leaving you feeling warm and entirely content.

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Not Like Him

Prompt: Because of your past, you hate confrontation. One day, Niall comes home particularly grumpy.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: anxiety, past verbal abuse mention

A/N: hi all!!! continuing to try and post on here. please feel free to send any niall x reader prompts / ideas my way :)

You’re in the midst of putting a dish you just washed away when you hear the front door open, then suddenly slam shut. The pictures hanging on the wall rattle as you peer around the corner anxiously. The first thing you see is Niall bustling through the door. Normally, having Niall home would cause a surge of warmth and excitement to rush through you– but today, instantly, you recognize that something about his demeanor is off. 

He throws his flannel on the chair and with his back facing you, runs his hand through his hair. When he turns to you, there’s no warm smile or cheerful greeting. Instead, he takes a few steps then tosses his keys on the counter, letting them slide carelessly across the surface. He makes no effort to even acknowledge your existence. 

Instantly, a lump forms in your throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. You hate tension… Or any sort of confrontation, really. Your parent’s entire marriage was built off tension and confrontation– passive aggressive comments and slamming doors leading to screaming, which then led to shattered dishes or dented walls. 

Your father had a temper. And it didn't matter how well behaved or helpful or unseen you were. Something always managed to spark his anger. The nights he drank were worse, and as the years went on, the sober version of himself made less and less of an appearance. 

Although you didn't recognize it at the time, looking back, you knew that you spent the vast majority of your childhood living on edge– always waiting for the yelling or the screaming. You were afraid more often than not. And that wasn't something you could just unlearn when you were old enough to leave– no matter how far away you were.  

In fact, it took years of hard work to heal from the trauma you'd experienced. But for so long, it felt like no matter how much therapy you attended or self-help books you read, there was always a part of you that was just stuck. 

Until you met Niall. 

Niall was the missing piece. His presence alone was healing. He was calm and safe and consistent. He was patient and gentle and kind. And when you finally got up enough courage to tell him about your childhood, he listened carefully, his brows furrowed somberly. It was like your trauma caused him physical pain– that's how much he loved you– how much he felt with you. 

With Niall, you could safely work on communicating without screaming matches or slamming doors. It had taken time, but slowly, piece by piece, you started to rebuild, until you actually felt like you could trust someone again. 

And of course, even now, in the midst of whatever this unknown territory was, you trust him. But despite that, tension is radiating off from him. It’s almost palpable in the air– suffocating you. 

You have to say something– Niall will understand. 

“How was your day?” You ask nervously, already knowing the answer. 

Niall walks right past you to the fridge, pulling the door open and ignoring your question.  

You bite your lower lip, your anxiety settling like a rock in your stomach. This feeling felt too familiar… 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. He pulls out a beer, showing no sign that he even heard you. He cracks it open, the sound alone sending shivers down your spine as you’re instantly reminded of all the nights your father would drink five beers before even recognizing you were home. But Niall is not your dad, you remind yourself. Niall is gentle. Niall is kind. 

He takes a long swig before walking towards the stairs.

“Niall?” you say, worry evident in your tone. 

He doesn’t stop. 

Niall isn't like him. Niall cares about your feelings. Niall loves you.

You follow him a few steps, knowing that you can’t let him just go to bed this… angry? Upset? Whatever he is– 

“Niall, what’s going on–”

“Oh my God!” He bellows suddenly, waving his arms and spinning in his tracks to finally look at you. “Can you leave me alone for one goddamn second?!”

Before you can quiet down your brain or repeat all the ways Niall was different from your father, your body reacts as if they are one and the same. You flinch harshly from his sudden movements and loud tone, like your body remembered exactly how it felt to live in your house twenty years ago. And before you can help it, the glass cup in your hand falls to the floor, shattering around your feet. 

The noise makes you snap out of your trance. Looking down at the mess you made, your mouth goes dry. Your whole body has already begun shaking and you can feel the tears fighting their way to your eyes. 

“I’m sorry–” you whisper, choking back a sob. Then you brace for the screaming– the berating. Clumsy, stupid, idiot. 

Nervously, you kneel down, tucking your hair behind your ear while you try to pick up the broken glass. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s obvious Niall had a bad day. So why couldn’t you just leave him alone? The last thing he needs is you making and being a mess. 

“Sorry–“ you mutter, it’s so quiet though, you doubt he hears. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. You’re so anxious you don’t even grab a dustpan, you just start collecting pieces of shattered glass in your hand. Your vision quickly becomes blurry with tears as they streak down your cheeks. 

“Shit,” you vaguely hear, but you don’t stop trying to clean up. You’re frantic, grabbing whatever you can off the floor before he can get more upset about it. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Through your clouded vision, you can’t see what you’re collecting off the floor– all you know is that you have to keep cleaning it up.

“Baby, stop–”  

The voice is distant.

“I promise I’ll clean it up,” you say, hands shaking so violently, you wonder how no pieces have sliced open your skin yet. 

“Baby–” 

It’s just background noise. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” 

You vaguely see a figure kneel beside you and before you can wave him away, Niall reaches out– hand cupping yours before forcing open your fingers. As soon as the glass is out of your hand, you see him reach up to toss it on the counter before kneeling back down to be on your level. 

All it takes is one arm wrapping around your shoulders for you to break. Suddenly, you can’t hold back the sob that’s been sitting in your throat. The second it escapes from your lips, Niall pulls you into his chest tightly. 

“C’mere,” he exhales, chin resting on your head while he slides the both of you back against the cupboard. You let out a choked gasp and cling to him. 

His arm winds tightly around you, locking you in place. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes.  

“I have to clean it up–” you cry.  

“Shh,” he soothes. He rocks you on the floor like that, his arms wrapped around you securely.  Your breathing is choppy as you shake against him. Niall grabs your bicep with his hand, holding you steady while his thumb rubs up and down your bare skin gently, trying to calm you down. 

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to feel like you can think again. Time stands still as you settle into his embrace. Niall’s embrace– you remind yourself. Not your father’s. Because your father wouldn’t embrace you after yelling like that. And he certainly wouldn’t embrace you after you broke a dish. 

After a while, your breathing gradually returns to normal again. Moments later, you feel him shift. “Did you cut yourself?” he asks carefully. 

He supports the majority of your weight, all but lifting you off the floor before scanning the length of you. 

You shake your head. At least you didn’t think you did. 

Niall nods before reaching his hand out. “C’mon, let’s get away from the glass.”

You take it willingly, sighing as you feel the warmth from his palm spread through your hand. He guides you away from the pile of glass and towards the kitchen island. He helps you settle into one of the tall stools. 

“Hey,” you hear him whisper. But you’re still staring at the mess, so worried about cleaning it up. Until you feel firm, but careful hands cupping each side of your face– forcing your attention to shift towards him. “Hey,” he repeats. 

His calloused thumb trails along your cheek. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re leaning into his touch, craving his comfort. 

“Did you cut yourself?” he asks again, clearly not trusting your earlier response. 

To be fair– you’re not even sure that you trust your earlier response. By now, you feel like you’re actually back in your own body, and feel no pain. So you shake your head, this time more convincingly.  

As soon as you give the confirmation that you’re alright, Niall takes a step forward and wraps his arms around your shoulders, crashing his body against yours.  

“I’m so sorry,” he says, lips ghosting against the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

You nod into his shirt, pinching the fabric between your fingers and breathing in the smell of him. Niall is not your dad, you repeat. Niall apologizes. Niall loves you. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, you were slightly more calm. “I’m sorry I was so annoying– I’m sorry I broke the glass.”

You feel Niall shake his head above you. “No–” he says firmly. “I don’t give a shit about the glass. I had a shitty day,” he sighs. “A really shitty day. But that’s not your fault.”

“I should have just given you space.”

He shakes his head again, pulling back from his embrace to look at you earnestly. “No– We’re supposed to talk about things. I promised you I’d always talk to you about things, and I broke that today.”

He brushes a few loose strands of hair from your face, before wiping some stray tears stuck under your eyes. “I know how much yelling activates you– I know it sets you off, and I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re allowed to get annoyed,” you remind him. “And angry. You’re allowed to yell.” 

“That’s not how you and I communicate,” he says. “That’s not ever how I want to communicate, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time”

Squeezing him tighter, you nod against his chest. 

Because Niall is not your father and you believe him.

[merrybloomwrites]

When You're Lost, Just Look For Me

Summary: You’re not always good at asking for what you need. Luckily your bandmates know when you need a little extra love and are there to support you.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: mentions of: neglectful family, periods, little bit of online hate

This story is set in the 1D days, and therefore Liam is a main character just like the other boys. Wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wants to avoid stories with him in it.

AN: When the news broke last week I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue writing, and really didn’t know what I would write about if I did. But then Passing Contact doubled in notes so I took that as a hint that it’s what people might want to read right now. So I decided to write a part 2 in hopes that it can help people in any way.

I have a couple other ideas for stories of reader x one direction that would also take place back when they were touring, but if you have any requests please let me know

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It’s a day off in a random hotel room in a random city in the United States. Of that you’re sure. But you're not sure of much else at the moment. 

You’re thinking back to the past few days. You’d messed up your backing vocals on stage, and had to re-record your parts for the next album because you just could not get it right. Numerous rumors were being spread about you being spotted with random boys, leading to renewed comments calling you all kinds of nasty things. 

You’re still in your pajamas, which you realize somehow consist of a pair of Louis’ sweatpants, one of Zayn's t-shirts, and a sweatshirt Liam had given you a week ago that you have yet to return. You think about texting one of them to come hang out, but you don’t want your glum mood to bring them down. Instead you turn on the TV and wrap yourself in all your blankets. 

It’s what you always did as a child when you were sad. Your family was never open with their emotions, and affection made them uncomfortable. From a young age you knew that going to your parents for comfort would end with rejection. So you’d learned how to comfort yourself. 

The blanket nest barely does its job today, and you’re still lost in your thoughts of self doubt when a knock at the door startles you. 

For a second you think about ignoring it, but odds are the person knocking wouldn’t just go away. So you pull yourself up and open the door, seeing Niall there waiting for you. 

“Hey, haven’t heard from you today, wanted to see what you’re up to,” he says. 

You’re hit with a wave of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that you've been wallowing all day. 

“Just taking it easy,” you reply, “Catching up on sleep.” It’s believable enough, none of you sleep too well on the bus and this is your first hotel bed in over a week. 

“I hear ya, think I slept twelve hours straight,” Niall says with a laugh. 

Knowing that he’s hoping for an invitation you step aside and motion your arm, silently asking him to join you in your room. You glance around quickly, glad to see everything is neat except the bed. You hope that he doesn’t judge the mess of blankets, and considering he just kicks off his shoes and climbs into your bed, you assume he’s fine with it. 

“What are we watching?” Is his next question so you sit on the other side of the bed and pass him the remote, allowing him to scroll through the channels until he finds some nature show that looks mildly interesting. 

You stare at the screen but you’re not focusing on it. You’re more focused on Niall just a couple feet away from you. 

During a celebration after the first tour, where you’d all indulged a bit with some drinks, you’d let slip about your family and your reluctance when it comes to physical affection. They listened and then made it a goal to help you be more comfortable with hugs, and hand holding, and all kinds of friendly contact. 

And it was nice. You’d always known that babies could be touch deprived, but you’d learned that adults can be starved for human touch as well. There was no doubt that you fell into this category, so getting random bouts of touch and affection from your band members had been healing in a way.

But lately things have been so crazy that everyone has been focusing on themselves. Plus you’re older now, not the teens that you were when you started the band. As people in your early twenties, the casual physical affection has dwindled. 

The boys seem to be coping with this, as though they haven’t even realized that the group hugs and cuddle piles have stopped. But you’ve noticed. And you’ll be the first to admit that you miss it. 

Now especially, with all this stress and disappointment weighing you down, you can’t help but desire a hug, one so tight that you can just burrow into one of the boys for a little while and feel safe and loved. 

But even though Niall is right there, you can’t bring yourself to ask. You can’t even move closer and get rid of the space between you. Because it was always the boys initiating the contact. You’re nervous to try, terrified that you might get rejected. 

Niall can tell something is going on with you, but he’s not sure what. He’s never been the best at navigating other people’s emotions so he calls in backup by sending a text to Harry who arrives a little bit later. He brings lunch with him, and you’re grateful for that since you’ve barely eaten all day. 

The three of you sit together at the table to eat. The food is good, and you’re grateful that Niall and Harry are talking to each other because you don’t have much to add right now. You don’t realize the way they’re watching you, communicating their worry through pointed looks. 

When lunch is done you all head back to the bed and put on a movie. You’re sitting against the headboard, Niall on your left and Harry on your right. And somehow, they’re still not touching you. At this point you’d take a brush of their arm against yours. Anything to help you feel less alone. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to lean closer to either of them. It’s maddening. 

“Y/N,” Harry says, catching your attention.

“Yea?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, not even sure why you’re lying to him.

“We know something is bothering you,” Niall adds. 

You take a breath before spilling everything that’s been going on. They listen and reassure you and while you do feel better after talking with them, there’s still that part of you that’s so on edge.

“What do you need?” Harry asks.

You think about it for a moment and say, “What I need is for people to stop judging me.”

“That’s a fair point. But I want to know what you need right now. From us.” Harry says.

The thing is, he knows the answer. He’s already aware of what would make you feel better. But he wants you to say it. He wants you to be comfortable to voice your needs with him and the other boys. 

Finally you blurt out, “I just need a hug.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says.

Now you’re confused. It’s what you want. You tapped into all your bravery to even say that. And now he’s telling you that’s not right?

“You want something more than that. Need something more than that,” he adds. 

You think about it for a moment and you realize that he’s right. A little hug isn’t going to cut it.

“I need someone to hold me,” you say quietly. “I need to be held.”

Neither boy hesitates now, and you end up tucking into Harry's side with Niall wrapping around you. They hold you tight, hands gently rubbing your back or arms to soothe you. 

It’s not often that you allow yourself to cry, but you do now. You heave out a sob and feel their arms tighten around you. They stay like that until your sobs turn into tears before finally drying up. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you’ve calmed down fully. 

“Of course, YN,” Niall says. “We’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”

“We’re in this together,” Harry adds. “And we take care of each other. Always.”

Their kindness, and comfort has you feeling so much better, but you remain in their hold just a bit longer. It feels so nice to have this type of physical contact after so long without it. 

The three of you eventually get cleaned up and join the rest of the boys for dinner. You end the day feeling so much better than you did at the start, and you know it’s thanks to these boys you call family. 

But despite how nice it felt to be held, thoughts of doubt and embarrassment fill your mind in the weeks that follow. When you look back at that afternoon you first think about how good it felt. And then you begin to feel weak that you even needed to be babied in the first place. 

You vow to be stronger in the future and not ask for that again. They have their own things, they don’t need to be taking care of you too. At least, that’s what your parents had always said. 

Tour continues, and one night you all have to stay at the venue for a while after the show. Security said something about it being unsafe to travel just yet, but you were too tired to listen to the details. 

After more than an hour of hanging out backstage you finally get the all clear to head out. But in that time you’d practically fallen asleep on the sofa. You have zero desire to get up so you sleepily raise your arms and look at Liam who’s standing before you and say, “Carry me.”

He chuckles, and a sweet smile appears on his face. Without even saying a word he leans down and slides an arm behind your back, the other under your knees to scoop you up bridal style. You sling one arm around his neck and hold on as he adjusts his grip to make sure you are secure. 

Once back on the bus he tucks you in, straightening your extra blanket and placing your stuffed cat in your arms. He runs a gentle hand through your hair until you fall asleep, once again feeling so safe and loved. 

A couple weeks later your period hits, and for some reason this month is especially bad. It’s day two of non stop cramps, and as much as you try to keep this a secret from the boys, they always know when you’re feeling particularly bad. 

Louis is the one to find you curled up on the couch. He brings chocolate, pain relievers, and some tea that’s supposed to help. You’d never heard of it before, but apparently his sisters swear by it. 

When nothing helps right away he lays down with you. His hand goes to your stomach and begins to rub, somehow soothing more than just the pain. Once your cramps finally go away you turn so that you're facing Louis. You tuck your head under his chin and he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close. 

It should be strange, being so close to him. But it just feels right, just like it does with the other boys. You let yourself enjoy the comfort as Louis’ hand rubs gentle circles on your back. 

Not only are your cramps gone, but the feelings of sadness and anxiety that usually come with your period are gone too, all thanks to Louis’ compassion and gentleness. 

A few days later you're sleeping in your bunk when a nightmare hits. It’s one that you used to get all the time, but now only comes when you’re extra exhausted or stressed. And with it being the last couple weeks of tour, you’re both of those things. 

You wake up gasping, adrenaline coursing through your body. You hoped that you were quiet and didn’t wake anyone else, but a moment later Zayn appears and asks if you’re alright. 

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Just a dream. I’m good now.”

But of course these boys can read you like a book. And Zayn immediately knows you’re not fine. 

“Scooch over,” he says, and you listen. As soon as there’s room he climbs in the bunk with you. He lays on his back and pulls you so your head is resting on his chest. 

You get comfy but you can’t help but feel bad. These bunks are small, uncomfortable for just one person. Definitely cramped with two.  

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine,” you say. 

“Nonsense. No one should be alone when they don’t have to,” he replies. 

You can't argue with that. The two of you hold each other close and fall into a peaceful sleep. He’s still there when you wake up in the morning and you snuggle closer, taking advantage of his comforting touch. 

When tour ends you’re a weird mixture of relieved and sad. It had been exhausting, but so wonderful. 

And you have to admit to yourself that you’re going to miss the boys. It’s only a couple of weeks apart before you come back together, but you’ll be back home with your family during that time. 

And you’re realizing that they’re not really family to you. 

Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam, and Harry are your family. They care for you in ways your own parents never did. And you’re going to miss that while you’re all back home. 

The boys know how you feel about going to stay with your family. That’s why they plan a night in rather than going out to party. You have some drinks and pizza, and spend the evening reminiscing about the past months you had together. 

The later it gets, the more glum you feel. You know the goodbyes are coming soon, and that puts a damper on your mood. 

Liam’s the first to notice how quiet you’ve gotten. He sits next to you on the couch and gently nudges you with his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

You don’t want to bring down the party, but you can’t ignore his pleading eyes so you reply, “I’m just going to miss you guys.”

He nods but continues to look at you, knowing there’s more to it. Sighing you add, “And you guys are so happy and so warm. At home everyone’s cold and distant.”

“What can we do to help?” He asks. A memory pops into your head. Another hotel room when you were feeling down. You know exactly what you need. And you’re no longer scared or embarrassed to ask for it. 

“I need to be held,” you say. 

“I think we can do that,” Liam says before once again picking you up and announcing, “Cuddle party on the bed!”

He gently tosses you onto the plush king bed and in no time you’re surrounded by your boys. That’s how the six of you sleep that night, all snuggled together in one big pile. 

You’ve never before felt so safe, so loved. And you’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity you received that brought you close to these boys. Because they are the ones who taught you what love truly feels like.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: While I was working on this a butterfly landed next to me and stuck around for a while. Brought me a bit of peace.

To my readers, I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you need someone to talk to know that I’m here and willing to talk!

[ameliora-j]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO ROUGH DOM NIALL. i’m actually begging. maybe the reader acts up on purpose for attention because niall is busy with his new album and he has to put her in her place 🫢 btw i love ur work, your like my fav author on this app xx

pls ur gonna make me cry :’) thank u angel ♡

content: mean dom!niall, fem!reader, brat!reader, edging, cumplay, impact play (flogging, slapping), spitting, humiliation, degradation, tummy bulge, creampie, breeding kink, lots of pet names, dominant/submissive themes, no aftercare written but it happens!, THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG I’M SO SORRY BAE DODOWNEN, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI !

you’re grumpy—and you have been for the last week and a half. had niall been paying any attention to you at all, he’d have realized as such earlier. however, he is deep into the finalization stage of his new album. you’re proud of him—more than proud of him. niall turns your world that much is obvious. you praise any and everything he does. so of course you’re overjoyed he has a new album coming, and so proud of all his hard work.

you just can’t help but feel a little… jealous? neglected? you’re not a hundred percent sure exactly what you would call it in truth. it feels like a big dark cloud of grump is sitting above your head and you can’t do anything about it. niall is your boyfriend, the love of your life… but first and foremost he is your dominant. he keeps you in check, makes sure you’re always on track, and fucks you into oblivion every night.

the problem is that with his new album, he hadn’t fucked you in almost two weeks. to go from having sex every day—multiple times a day—to none at all for a whole two weeks was really taking a toll on you. it’s niall’s own fault, anyway—your sex drive wasn’t nearly this high before you’d met him. you don’t realize that your sexual frustration is building up until you’re already on the brink of an explosion. waking up in the morning with only one thing on your to-do list: be the biggest brat known to mankind.

unbeknownst to you, niall had taken the day off. he realized that he was neglecting you a bit—it’d been too long since he saw your pretty face when you were awake. you’re surprised to see niall still laying in bed beside you, sleeping peacefully when your eyes flutter open. you look to the bedside table and read the numbers on the alarm clock before pushing his shoulder.

niall wakes with a grunt, gasping a bit as he turns to look at you. “wha’s a’matter?” he mumbles tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“you’re late” you mumble grumpily as you move to get out of bed. “wouldn’t wanna keep the love of your life waiting” you slightly grumble as you walk to the bathroom.

“love of my life? what’re you on about, pet? you’re right here” he chuckles softly, shaking his head as he sits up. “come back to bed, i took the day off. wanna cuddle.”

your heart flutters at the statement, nearly blowing the grump-cloud away, but it’s already hard-set on remaining there for the rest of the day. “i can’t i have things to do.” you say simply as you move to walk downstairs.

niall frowns a bit, clambering out of bed to follow you. “hey wait a second, where are you going?” he asks. you’re never out of bed this quick—even if you do have plans for the day. furthermore, no matter if you’re late, you’re always keen to lay down and have a cuddle with niall.

“since when does my life interest you?” you snark. niall’s jaw clenches. it’s barely been fifteen minutes and he’s already fed up with your attitude. he takes a breath to calm himself, wanting to get to the root of the issue before taking things too far.

“your life always interests me. you’re my girl, don’t be ridiculous” he shakes his head. you simply scoff, rolling your eyes and shoving past him and going to take a shower.

niall is quick to grab your wrist, dragging you back to his chest and squeezing your jaw. “listen here you little brat. i took the day off to spend quality time with you but i can just as easily spend it beating the brat out of you. so what will it be?” he growls lowly. you seal your fate when you suck in your cheeks, pursing your lips and spitting on him.

his eyes go dark and he chuckles lowly, slapping his palm against your cheek roughly. “i’m gonna make you regret that” he murmurs.

niall all but drags you back to the bedroom, shoving you roughly onto the bed. you whimper a bit, squirming in anticipation as he walks over to the closet, grabbing his duffel bag full of toys, ropes, and all of his ‘dom essentials.’ “what are you doing?” niall asks when he turns around—noting you hadn’t moved from where he put you.

“sitting” you hum, snark still lacing your tone. niall chuckles, shaking his head a bit as he walks over to you. he grabs you by your neck, forcing you to stand before tearing your nightgown from your body—practically tearing the flimsy fabric in two.

you squeak as niall spins you, forcing you down onto the bed before pulling your hips up so you were on your hands and knees. you hear rummaging before one of niall’s hands rubs over your ass. “pick a number between one and five.”

he’s angry—really angry—he usually always adds a pet name even if you’re in trouble. you bite your lip, thinking hard about what number to pick. you knew how niall’s spankings worked. you would pick a number, and if you got it right then that’s how many spanks you got. if you got it wrong, then he’d double whatever number he was thinking of. you squeeze your eyes shut tight, going with the safest option smack dab in the middle. “three?” you say hesitantly.

niall smirks, rubbing his hands over your ass. “oh, princess” he hums in a sickly sweet tone—and you nearly smile before realizing that you’re being mocked as his hand strikes your ass cheek. “it was five” he says lowly.

the number is the only warning that you get before niall winds up his flogger and slams it down on your ass. you practically scream into the comforter, tears already pricking the corners of your eyes. he doesn’t start off gentle or work his way up, and he gives you no respite as he continuously whips his flogger on different areas of your backside.

you make sure to call out numbers clear and concise—not wanting to start over with niall in this mood. by the time he’s finished with you, you’re a wet mess—in more ways than one. tears spilling down your cheeks, drool falling from your lips, and cunt sticky with arousal.

“okay okay okay” niall hums as he turns you around. “i know baby, i know. you’re okay… you’re fine” he coos tauntingly as he pulls you to his chest. “‘s okay, i’ll give y’what y’want… quit y’tears” he mumbles as he tugs his sweats down. he lays you back on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable on top of the pillows before kissing your head.

“oh there’s my girl” he smirks as he runs his cock through your sticky folds. you whine softly, arching towards him before he pushes your hips down. “stay still, y’brat” he grunts, slapping your cunt a few times. you shriek with each hit, your legs wiggling in an attempt to get away as you look at him tearily. “jus’ lay there and take my cock.” he mumbles as he slowly pushes into you.

the both of you moan as he bottoms out, you gripping niall’s shoulders as he holds your hips tightly. “fuckin shit babydoll” he groans, pressing down on the bulge of his cock your tummy. “forgot how goddamn tight you were” he gasps a bit, slowly pulling his cock out before thrusting back in.

niall is in heaven… he’s practically pussy drunk off one stroke alone. his head falls back and his eyes roll as he feels your gummy walls gripping him. you’re like a vice, almost as if you wouldn’t let go even if he begged you to. your pussy is sucking him in, leaking around him like a fountain of eternal youth and he’s so close to busting that he has to take a deep breath and distract himself. “this what you needed baby?” he mocks. “just a big cock to fill up your tight little cunt?” he hums.

“ni…” you whine softly and he simply chuckles before setting a pace. once he’s adjusted to your tightness and calmed himself down, he’s able to fuck you how he wants. he holds your hips down against the mattress setting a brutal and punishing pace in your cunt.

“that why you had an attitude? haven’t fucked you properly lately?” he laughs at you. actually laughs at you, and you can’t even bring yourself to care. “you’re so pathetic” he mumbles, spanking your clit. “all it takes is some dick n you’re all smiles again.”

“yeah daddy” you moan in agreement, nodding dumbly as your eyes fluttered closed. you barely even register the words niall is saying to you—all you know is that they’re mocking and unkind. but, this is all you wanted—what you’d been dreaming of for so long so you had not a care in the world. not a thought bouncing around your skull other than more more more.

more love. more affection. more close. more cock. more niall. he engulfed you, not just due to his much larger stature. he had you pinned between the bed, your bodies so close that you could feel the beads of sweat dripping off of his forehead and onto you. he was everywhere—on top of you, inside of you, touching you, his scent engulfing your nostrils as you lay on his pillow.

your head was swimming in a pool of niall and you were content to drown in it until niall forces your leg up over his shoulder. he reangles his hips and slams his cock back directly into your gspot. “daddy!” you shriek out loudly, your back arching high off the bed.

“yeah baby, daddy’s here” he mumbles, reaching to rub your clit. “daddy’s right here baby. jus’ lay pretty and take my cock, yeah?” he flashes a bright smile your way, winking at you—his hips never breaking rhythm as he punishes your cunt with his cock.

you can barely choke out a response your cunt pulsing around him as your orgasm dangles so close, yet so far away. “are you gonna cum baby? i can feel you squeezing me” he hums, fucking you faster. “do you want to cum princess?” he mocks.

“yeah! yeah, yeah, yeah!” you chant, nodding rapidly as your hips begin stuttering against his. “oh fuck yeah!” you whine.

“awh… ‘s too bad i didn’t say you could then, isn’t it?” he hums, slapping your clit once more and laughing meanly. you whine in frustration, tears wetting your lashes as you force your orgasm back. “jus hold it baby, you can do it” he teases, but begins rubbing your clit in small, deliberate circles. “right? for daddy?” he smirks.

you gasp, nodding dumbly as your eyes roll. “f-f’daddy” you nod, your legs beginning to shake. you feel niall’s cock give a twitch at that, his hips stuttering a few times before he finds his pace once more.

“daddy’s gonna cum baby” niall moans in your ear, beginning to nip and suck the skin of your neck. “gonna fill this tight cunt… give you m’babies you want that?” he smirks.

“yeah daddy… yeah gimme your babies please” you whine, beginning to rock your hips in time with his.

“then cum with me, princess” he whispers, squeezing your throat just as your orgasm starts. you moan loudly, unable to stop the spasming of your body as you cream around niall’s cock. you distantly register his slew of swears through loud moans as you feel his seed painting your walls. you moan softly as he pulls you into a hot and heavy kiss—filled with love and passion.

niall pulls away breathlessly, smiling down at you in adoration as he gently pushes your hair from your face. “is my good girl back yet?” he hums softly, gently peppering kisses over your face.

the airy giggle you let out is enough to let niall know he’d fucked you nine ways from sunday and you were now deeply submerged in a submissive headspace. if that wasn’t enough for him, then your soft: “yeah daddy” as you nose against his neck seals the deal for him.

he hums a bit in relief—pride maybe?—before kissing your neck again. “good… you keen for a cuddle now?” he smirks softly at you.

[rebelelegance]

Stars and Scars

Planet drummer!reader Part two - of Back to You

Summary: It’s been 8 months. You’re on tour and Zayn finally decides to talk to you. TW: Toxic/abusive parents and slight mentions of self harm Pairing: One direction boys x fem!reader A/N: I guess it’s time we bring this baby back up! I do not own any of the characters except reader and her parents. These are fake scenarios and certain things will be tweaked a little to fit the story line. Tags: @st-ev-ie @lovecarsgoingvroom @exclusiverinaa

—-----------------------------------

Your phone was buzzing, over and over, the name flashing on your screen. The room was dead silent as the boys watched your face. You hadn’t been home in 8 months. You’d ignored all the angry texts and calls for the first couple of months. After your first show, you’d finally answered their call. Only to be yelled at and hung up on. And now they were calling you again. You didn’t go back home that night. You’d caught on to the beat pretty quick and after practicing for a few hours, you had decided you wanted to stay. Not just because you were excited to go on tour with the boys, but because you felt…normal around them. And safe. And wanted. So you stayed. You went back the next day when you knew your parents were at work, packed everything that you thought was important, and never looked back.

And now here you were. Staring at the screen as “Mom” flashed on it, nervously wringing your hands and bouncing your leg. “Y/N-” Zayn whispered, watching your face carefully. “Love, you should answer it. We’re right here. We’ll drag you out if it goes south. We promise,” Harry soothed, the other boys humming in agreement. You looked at them, then back at your screen, breathing out slowly as you reached for your phone. Hands shaking, you answered it, placing it on speaker and leaving it on the table. “Hello?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N. When are you coming back home?” your mother asked. Her voice was rigid, and too calm and collected for your comfort. No ‘how are you’ or ‘where are you’. “Why?” you asked, anger and pain building up inside you. You felt Zayn put his hand on your thigh, and rub it gently. You put your hand on his, and he took it into both hands, rubbing his finger over your knuckles. It was something he used to do for you before he left for the X-Factor. He still remembered.

“What do you mean why? We are your family. You better be back tomorrow. I don’t care if you’ve found your calling or whatever quote you’re gonna throw at me. We will not allow this. Get your mind out of the gutter and get back, and maybe we’ll forgive you for being so selflish.”

And the line disconnected.

You froze. Staring at the phone. Zayn’s grip on your hand tightened, gently pulling you towards him, until your head was resting on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around you as the other held on to your hand, his head leaning on yours gently. Before you even understood what was happening, the boys had gotten up from their seats, surrounding you. Harry hugged you from the other side, his head resting on your shoulder, Liam and Louis sat in front of you, hands and chins resting on your knees, as Niall hugged you from behind, pulling Harry and Zayn even closer to you in the process.

And for the first time in months, your tears overflowed. As empty as you felt because of your parents. Your friends made you feel more at home than you ever had. After a few minutes of quiet comfort, you started to sit up right, the boys moving away a little bit, to give you some space. “They can do whatever they want. I’m not going back.” You declared. No one said a word. You stood up. “Excuse me. I need a minute.”

—----------------------------------------- Harry was worried about you. He knew the others were too but he just couldn’t get himself to do anything. You hadn’t eaten, and no one even knew where you were. Except him. On a particularly rough night of the tour, he’d snuck away to the hotel balcony to gaze up at the stars. And you’d been there. You both had laughed and talked for hours. And ever since, when something was wrong, he’d meet you outside, gazing at the stars. So when it was almost midnight and you still hadn’t come back to your room, and all the boys started visibly panicking, Harry said he knew where you were and that he’d check on you. Did he notice the way Zayn’s face dropped? Perhaps. Did he know why? No. He was too worried about you to care. He made his way outside the shared apartment, walking all the way to the back to see you sitting on the grass, gazing up at the dark sky.

“Hey Star,” he called. The five of them had given you that nickname after realizing how obsessed you were with those tiny balls of light. “Hi Harry,” you called back softly, turning to him as he sat down next to you.

You both sat there for a few minutes in silence, as Harry just looked at you, trying to read into your eyes. “My scars are starting to fade,” you whispered, looking down at your arms. Harry followed your gaze, a slight pain in his chest at the mention of them. Your scars had indeed started to get lighter. “Are you happy then?” he asked, eyes back to searching your face. You didn’t say anything for a minute, before slowly nodding your head. “Yeah, I am. I don’t want to let them affect how I see myself anymore,” you cleared your throat, looking back up at the sky.

Harry didn’t know for sure if you meant your scars, or your parents by them. But he has a feeling it was both.

“So…to a new chapter then?” Harry asked, looking up at the sky.

Just as the light on your watch lit up to signal midnight, you nodded, “To a new chapter.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Now....

[justmeinatree]

06 - ‘Cause I Want You Bad

Summary : Part 6 to Let Passion Get Too Much … niall x louis x reader threesome

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, edging, subspace, pussy spanking

Word Count : 4.5k

GIFs : unknown, msg for credit

louis knew he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t have you on his lap, shouldn’t have his hands gripped into your bum, shouldn’t have you slowly grinding on him, shouldn’t have his tongue in your mouth. but when you came down the stairs wearing his grey sweat pants, louis just about lost his mind. 

“where’s niall ?” louis groans, something that makes your eyebrows furrow. not that you didn’t love niall, not that you didn’t always want him around, just, right in this exact moment, you weren’t exactly thinking about him. 

“’s saturday,” you mumbled against louis’ lips, as if that explained everything. but when you feel louis’ face contort into confusion, you explain between kisses, refusing to ever fully remove your mouth from his. “when we’re both home on saturday mornings,” you start, pausing to kiss louis deeply, your grip in his hair tightening, teeth sinking into the plushness of his bottom lip. “we take some time for each other,” kiss, “we like this cafe a few blocks away,” kiss, “he’s gone to pick up scones, muffins, coffee,” kiss, “s’tradition.”

and suddenly louis felt like such an intruder. you two had a saturday morning tradition, and here he was, getting in the way. he pulls away from the kiss, hand pressed on your chest, keeping you far enough to be just out of reach of his lips, eliciting the sweetest little whimper from you. “i can leave, darling.”

“wha- no,” you shake your head, pulling his hand from your chest, back down to your hip, mouth attaching to his neck, “he’s getting breakfast for three,” you explain, taking a moment to suck a small bruise behind his ear, smiling as you dip back into his lips. “s’about all of us now, remember ?” you murmur, not giving him a chance to really answer, too caught up in his mouth.

louis swears he can feel his heart swell at the thought. he was being included into a long standing tradition. if he’d ever felt insecure about his position in this relationship, it was definitely waning. the only problem now, is that louis’ desperate to get inside you, and niall’s on his way with breakfast, dammit. “how long until niall’s back ?” louis finds himself asking, most of it coming out as an incoherent mumble, one that he has to repeat when you give him enough time in between kisses. 

you groan in frustration, eyebrows furrowed, “why are you so preoccupied with niall right now ?” seriously, the question may have come off bitchy, especially if your name was niall, but truthfully, you were having the most incredible moment with louis. him being all you could clearly focus on, and here he is, asking about someone else.

“isn’t this kind of pushing the cheating line ?” louis asks, remembering the night, a while ago now, where the three of you came up with one rule, only including louis if you were all present. and although louis’ quite sure that having a very heated makeout session won’t really bother niall, he can’t be so sure that the same could be said about putting his entire cock inside you. 

you were still momentarily confused, until the rule floated back into your mind, when realization of louis’ apprehension made complete sense. you sit back on louis’ thighs, shoulders slumping, looking at him in pure adoration, “things have changed, significantly since then,” you chuckle softly. honestly, the opportunity just hadn’t presented itself for you and louis to have a moment alone like this, and therefore the rule lay far down in your memory, almost forgotten. especially by now, when you were pretty certain that niall would not mind one bit. he’d probably find it incredibly hot to walk in on louis’ cock buried deep inside you. “niall won’t mind at all,” you add for good measure, leaning forward to dip back in for more kisses, hips grinding down harder on him.

louis groans, whining slightly. fuck, he wanted to, wanted you, so badly. but he couldn’t bring himself to it without expressly hearing from niall that it was okay. he needed to be certain that the rules had changed for everybody. and so louis’ grip on your hips tighten, holding you in place, ceasing your movements, “not until niall gets back,” louis warns softly. 

well fine, you think to yourself, but you didn’t have to make it easy. your hand grips into louis’ hair, tipping his head back, exposing his neck. your mouth works its way over his stubbly skin, tracing feather soft kisses, and teeny nipping bites. you take your time, slowly working over his entire neck, paying close attention to spots that made his breathing hitch. 

louis kept his hands gripped into your hips, not allowing you the satisfaction of grinding down on him. but he was losing his resolve quickly. it was so easy to get lost in you, so easy to give into anything you wanted. and the moment your mouth closed around his earlobe, sucking and biting softly, as you breathe out a groan, one that reverberates right into his ear, shooting down his spine, going straight to his cock, louis was sure he’d lost complete control of himself for a moment. his body reacting on its own, hips bucking up into you, hard.

it pulled a moan from you, again, landing right in his ear, as your forehead rested against his temple. “again,” you whine breathily in his ear, figuring the trick to getting louis doing whatever you pleased. it seemed to go hand in hand with how much he loves and gets off on hearing niall speak.

louis can’t help himself, hips lifting again, groaning as he feels you, still wearing his sweats, surely sticky with your arousal by now. another thought that swirls through his mind, not helping the situation he’s put himself in. louis turns his head, catching your lips with his own, pulling your mouth from his ear, kissing you deep. kissing you hard. he needed a grounding distraction, and it was the best thing he could think of. plus, it kept your mouth busy from bringing him right to the edge.

it was a few minutes later, that you both recognize the thwacking sound of niall’s shoes being thrown off unceremoniously, followed by the trudging of his footsteps. “finally,” louis breathes, pulling away from your mouth, hips rolling hard into yours.

niall rounds the corner into the living room, right as you whimper, eyes locked on louis’. a smirk pulls at niall’s lips, dropping the coffees and treats on the end table, “guess the coffees are going cold this morning,” he laughs. 

“fuck yes,” louis groans, head falling back on the couch, eyes closing, “i’ll get us more later, but for now, please just get over here.”

niall looks at you in slight confusion at the snippiness of louis’ tone. he’s met with your rolling eyes, and the word “rules,” as the only explanation you give. you can see that niall takes a moment, much like you did at first, just to remember what that was, eyes flicking over fondly to louis’ when he realizes. “since when do you follow the rules, anyway ?” niall asks, chuckling, even more confusion etched in his features.

louis groans loudly, laughing, as he shakes his head. he lifts his head from the back of the couch, cheeks turning a slight red as he looks back and forth between you and niall for a moment, gaze filled with adoration. “since i really don’t want to fuck up,” louis admits.

niall flops himself on the couch next to louis, pulling him in for a quick kiss. he almost couldn’t believe the surge of emotions at louis’ confession. “y’not fucking up, mate,” niall murmurs, eyes locked on louis’ as he says it, wanting him to understand the seriousness of what he was saying.

“we want you here, louis,” you murmur, reaching out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it. “in all the ways,” you add, meaning that it wasn’t just sex anymore. 

louis knew. he knew this. you’d both been so sweet, and so patient, always reassuring him. truthfully, he just needed to get out of his own head. needed to let himself live this, be in it fully. “i know,” louis nods, his eyes holding so much truth, so much love. “i’m sorry, i’m getting there yeah ?” he admits with a soft sigh.

“remind ya every fuckin day if i have to,” niall chuckles playfully. although the statement stood, he happily would remind louis every day if he needed. still, lightening the mood was his strong suit, especially in moments like this, when you were both so clearly right into each other, bodies craving. it was no time to be having this talk.

both you and louis know what that meant. you both know niall well enough. the little joke was his way of ending the conversation, of tabling it until later when the time would be more appropriate. “now, it seems i’ve interrupted something,” niall smirks at the two of you, sitting back against the couch, making himself comfortable, taking his coffee and muffin, raising his eyebrow as he looks back at the both of you. “don’t stop on my account,” he smiles, taking a tiny bite of the chocolate chip muffin, and a small slurpy sip of his coffee for emphasis. 

you bite your lip, looking back at louis, gentle smile pulling at your lips. louis looked so soft, so cozy. you couldn’t help but reach out and cup his jaw, pulling his face to yours, kissing him deeply again. you could feel how much more laidback he was now that niall was here. you hadn’t realized before, but now that he’s so much calmer, his entire demeanour looser, it clicks in your mind that he may have been a bit nervous earlier. you just aren’t sure why. 

although it had been over a year since the first time you brought up the idea of a threesome in that hotel room, louis still relied heavily on niall’s cues for just about everything. not that he didn’t think he couldn’t, more that it felt tried and true, and he couldn’t fuck up since niall never fucked up. niall knew you so well, he just always knew. and louis’ still learning, so really, it just felt easier, and much less stressful, to feed off of niall’s cues. 

so now that he was here, watching and savouring his breakfast, slowly growing a stiffy, enjoying this way too much, louis’ grip into you tightened significantly, his entire behaviour shifting. 

niall though, wanting the show to move along, tuts softly, “get naked already,” he laughs around his mouthful of food. but still, it worked, as he watches you slowly raise to your feet, standing between louis’ legs, gripping the base of your tank top and pulling it off over your head. it was still much too early in the day for a bra, your chest instantly exposed to them. louis’ hands cup the sides of your breast, groaning softly, as his thumbs reach out to flick over your nipples, “beautiful girl,” he breathes, before his palms slide down your sides to the hem of his pants that you were wearing. louis slowly pulls them down, watching a strand of arousal connect your centre with his pants, watching it snap as the material falls down your legs.

louis groans, gripping your hips, pulling you up to him. his mouth instantly falls on your pussy, sucking up any arousal that he can. a loud groany moan falls from your lips, head tilting back, louis pulling one of your legs, bending it at the knee, and resting your foot on the couch next to him. the position gives him better access to your cunt, mouth working tirelessly, hands gripping into your bum, holding you in place. 

you gripped into louis’ hair, centring yourself, as your eyes roll back, the messiness of louis’ technique always sending you reeling. he was everywhere you didn’t even know you needed. shifting from his tongue to his lips to his teeth, licking, sucking, nipping, from your clit to your entrance to inside you, pressed on your sweet spot. you’ll have to remember to ask if he has a technique, or if he just goes for it. either way, you were already so heated, breathing laboured, coming out in soft breathy pants.

with all the work that louis had put in before niall even got home, and the extra work right now, your cunt finally getting direct contact with the man you’ve been craving for the last half hour, you could feel yourself approaching your first high. could feel the heat start to spread through your body, could feel your muscles start twitching. 

louis could feel it too. your tummy was spasming, legs trembling, moans more desperate. he brought you right to the edge, right to where the coil was about to snap, and he pulled away, looking up at you with a smirk, “not yet, love.”

his mouth, his chin were soaked, tongue licking over his lips, just waiting for your reaction. it took your brain a quick moment to catch up to the fact that your pleasure had ended so abruptly, a groan grumbling from the depths of your chest, falling forward, forehead resting against louis’, a look of desperation on your features.

all louis does, however, is press his mouth to yours, invading your senses with your own taste, licking into your mouth, depositing more of your arousal onto your tongue. 

niall was watching on, desperate for a taste of you, his breakfast long forgotten, pants pulled down halfway to his knees, shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. he hadn’t given in by touching himself yet, but his hand was gripped into his upper, inner thigh, and he was losing resolve. something about watching the two of you was so hot to niall. he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but he thinks he could do this for the rest of his life. watch you two until he’s so worked up that he needs to join. 

your hips drop to louis’, his cock perfectly nestled between your folds, rolling yourself on him. the tip of his prick was hitting your clit so deliciously, then catching on your entrance with every sway of your hips. you were picking up speed, teased right to the edge just moments ago, now furiously in search of the high you’d been denied.

“makin yourself feel good, pet ?” niall asks, his eyes roaming both your bodies, entranced in the glistening pool of arousal you’ve left behind on louis’ skin, the little red fingerprint indents in your hips and your bum from the strength of louis’ grasp. it was a miracle niall had been able to hold out so long, and still somehow finding the composure to not jump in just yet.

louis’ eyes were trained on your centres, watching you use him to pleasure yourself. with every backwards glide of your hips, he could see just how wet you were making him, feeling your arousal pool below his cock. he could feel your clenches whenever he’d hit a more sensitive spot, could hear your moans getting breathier, your urgency becoming greater. you were close again. that much, louis was good at reading. and just as you were about to scream out, he was pulling your hips clean off of his, leaving you with no friction, and no means to reach your peak.

you do end up screaming out, although not as erotically as you’d planned. it was just about the most frustrating thing you could think of, making your entire body twitch as it came down from nothing. “please,” you find yourself begging, “please louis, please,” you add whinier, whimpering as you grip into him.

niall catches the moment that louis’ eyes flicked to his. louis was checking in, making sure that this wasn’t pushing you too far. he thinks that so far, he’s only witnessed you revelling in multiple orgasms. he’s never been a part of a scene that involved edging with you. by niall’s reaction though, louis knows you’re alright, that this isn’t your first time, that your whines hadn’t reached any thresholds as of yet. 

and so, without hesitation, louis slides his cock inside you, angling his tip right for your sweet spot, something else he’s learned, and gotten quite pro at. it knocks the air straight out of your lungs, gasping for a breath, as louis keeps up a slow, hard pace. 

your head rolled forward, looking down at louis desperately, unshed tears pooling in your eyes, pleading gaze hitting him. for the first time, he held all the cards. he could see that you were on the edge of tipping into floatiness. and no matter how much power your gaze held, louis needed to see where he could push you. as soon as your cunt started to flutter on him, tremors almost overlapping, louis pulls out, “not yet, darling,” he groans, watching the shift in your eyes. 

louis only felt fully comfortable doing so with niall watching so attentively. he knew that if anything, niall had the situation under control. it appeased louis. and little did he know, it appeased you as well. 

your body falls forward again, being left on the peak, just to fall once again. your mouth crashes onto louis’, needing an anchor for a moment, gripping his hair for balance. you were a whimpery, panting mess, your hips flailing, trying to escape louis’ grasp. 

niall couldn’t hold back anymore. his cock was so hard, he was growing more and more needy, and he was desperate to have an opportunity at bringing you to the edge as well. so he comes to a stand behind you, fingers reaching out for your hole. 

the added touch made you jump slightly, not having realized that niall had gotten up and was now right there. he’s quick to reassuringly shush you, murmuring, “y’still stretched from last night ?” his fingertips dance around your ring of muscles, index slowly breaching. you were so mellow, muscles still relaxed from last night, niall would have no trouble joining the scene. it makes him reach over to the drawer in the end table by the couch, pulling out a small bottle of lube. 

louis looks on with a playful smirk and raised eyebrow, “dirty, the two of you,” he laughs, incredulously shaking his head. although, really, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point. obviously you two would have lube within easy reach, always at the ready. 

niall slowly eased his way inside you, your muscles giving way easily, eyes fluttering shut, mouth parting as you moan out. your face was buried in louis’ chest, back arched, hips straight up. louis gently coaxed your head up a tiny bit, enough for him to kiss you deeply. you were so tingly, so buzzy, egged on by the moans niall was echoing out from behind you. 

you were so close to the edge, brought closer and closer each time, almost permanently trembling. “please,” you whimper, needing to cum, needing it so badly. you were so hot, so desperate for a release. but niall didn’t allow it, pulled out a moment later, making you bite into louis’ lip, hard. your body trying to curl in on itself, unable to in the position you were in. “need to beg a lot more if you’re that desperate,” niall tuts with a smirk.

niall takes it upon himself to not allow you the break they’d been allowing you up until now, reaching below you to grip at louis’ prick, pulling a gasp from him, placing his cock right at your entrance, pressing you down to sit on him. both you and louis moan out loudly, bucking up into you, making you rise entirely, lifted by his hips, cock empaled into you. 

they were taking their turns, bringing you right to the edge, pulling out and letting the other have a turn. it was constant, keeping you right there, unable to attain your peak. your body was limply being shuffled from straight up against niall’s chest, to folded over louis’ body. you were gasping for air, pleading with loud whines. the back and forth and back and forth feeling of switching holes and switching cocks, you could barely keep up, not with the way you were floating now, so far gone. you felt so properly used, like a doll for them to fuck. and you loved it. the best release.

you’d lost count of how many times they alternated being inside you. all you knew was that you were about to lose any resolve. you were teetering on the peak, and niall had started recognizing that their time inside you was getting shorter and shorter. but really, niall wasn’t ready to give you what you wanted. he and louis, however-

niall decides to keep your hips floating, above louis and a bit too far from himself. he reaches down below you, gripping louis’ cock and tugging quickly. it pokes a hard breath from his lungs, head falling back and baring his throat, “fuck, niall, fuck,” louis whines out, the sudden contrast from the slowness of his thrusts inside you, to the quickness of niall’s hand threw him in a bit of a frenzy. 

as floaty as you were, you recognized that niall was working louis now, was bringing him to his own edge, while still denying you yours. it made you whine more desperately, crying out pleads, tears streaming down your cheeks as you realize that they’ll be letting themselves cum. without you. something they both manage quickly with all of their own edging in the process.

louis moans out, cum painting both your pussy and his own stomach, back arching as he does. niall uses the cum on his hand to stroke himself, cumming moments later, also painting your sopping cunt. it was so dirty, the image that niall was privy to. your heat leaking a mixture of arousal and multiple loads of cum, right down onto louis’ cock. without much thought, niall leaves an open palm smack right over your centre.

you cry out loudly, muscles spasming, gush of liquid erupting from your cunt. the spanking wouldn’t make you cum, niall knew that. but it sure could make your squirt. “colour,” niall’s quick to ask, quicker than louis even thought of it, another testament as to why he likes to have niall around for these moments. and as soon as a quiet “green” spilled from your lips, louis had shuffled down, head between your legs, taking a turn in landing his own smack to your cunt. 

with another loud cry, you gushed some more liquid, louis’ mouth awaiting to catch as much as he could, happily humming as he swallowed. “want a taste, tommo,” niall grunted, landing another spank himself, louis ready to collect. he slithered from his spot between your legs, gripping into niall’s hair to tip his head back. louis pinched niall’s chin, making his mouth open, depositing your squirt into his mouth. niall moaned out, swallowing, mouth suctioning to louis’ in an intense kiss. their first one of the day. and they were indulging. full of tongue and teeth clattering, groaning right next to your ear, you whimpered, trying to get their attention, desperate for them. 

once louis pulled away breathlessly, noting how blissed out you looked, leaned back against niall, head tipped over his shoulder, gasping for small breaths, body trembling, tear stains on your cheeks. you looked beautiful. louis kisses his way back down your body, figuring he could give into you just a tiny bit, before smacking your abused cunt once again, needing to taste more. 

you were so far gone, you couldn’t think, your brain too prickly. the pleasure that had taken over your body was so intense, skin heated like it was being burned, electric zaps coursing through your veins. you’d long lost count of how many spanks your poor pussy had taken, revelling in the gushing pleasure it allowed you each time.

“make her cum,” niall speaks out to louis, starting to note just how far you’d fallen. no longer able to answer the question he’d been asking for a good minute. a question that you hadn’t even heard due to the ringing in your ears. nor had you registered the fact that he told louis to make you cum.

so a surprised squeak left your lips as his mouth closed around your puffy clit, suctioning it into his mouth, flicking his tongue quickly. “cum, petal,” niall murmurs against your ear, knowing that the words would reach your subconscious, trembling so hard as your high finally peaked. it was so strong, body wracking, you fell through niall’s arms, louis’ hands quickly reaching up to catch you. he slithered from under you again, letting you rest against his chest as you gasped and panted for breath, far out of consciousness.

you weren’t sure how long you’d been using louis to recover, but his hand was gently stroking your hair, niall sitting next to him, playing with your fingers, stroking your palm. 

it was the soft shuffle of your head, burying yourself more into louis, that makes him realize you’d come to. his other hand reaches around you to squeeze you lightly, niall smiling at you, “welcome back, petal.”

you hum, nodding, smiling at them, still too exhausted and weak to lift your head. “be here all day if y’need, darling,” louis murmurs quietly, ready to give you the comfort needed after the intensity of the scene. your heart melting at his willingness, humming breathily, leaving a soft kiss against his skin. 

niall can really see how good louis is with you, but also realizes that he’s leaning a little too much on his experience. he remembers the early days with you, when he could learn you and test with you. it’s those moments that brought you two as close as you are now. the opportunity to make safe mistakes and learn from them, getting to know each other intimately by trying and by getting messy. and he trusts louis, knows that you do too. it was just time for louis to trust himself, niall thinks. “we’re gonna need another talk, rethink those rules,” niall hums, watching you nod, and a fond smirk pull at louis’ lips. things had changed, it was time that the rules and the dynamic did as well.

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

tags : @acesofspadess @mar1posita @gorlsinmultifandoms @emmaarenstarr @slutforcoffein

@blondedmgc @daphnesutton @hslt-2809 @louischasesniall @take-a-cchonce

[harrywavycurly]

Texting Boyfriend Niall Horan Part 9: Dates

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @blckburd @fanboysfangirl

Side Note: I know some of y’all don’t like how snippy these two are with each other but just know these two are sickeningly in love, they just talk a lot of shit to each other(out of love lol)

A/N: Niall thinks he takes you on dates all the time, but you just want him to admit he’s a little afraid of you. Enjoy✨

[amorchai]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐆𝐅.

niall horan x girlfriend!reader.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[burningred1989]

UNDERDOG

A/N: First ever Niall fic,, hope y’all like it <33

Niall feels down when he sees the other boys’ lines are full of fans wanting to meet them but there are barely any fans lined up for him, until he sees a girl holding a photo album.

MASTERLIST

<<<<<

The meet-and-greet was in full swing, the buzzing energy of the crowd filling the room with excitement. Niall Horan sat at his designated spot, his heart pounding a little harder than usual. Fans were lining up, eagerly waiting to meet the boys, but as he glanced around, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. The line for Harry, Liam, Louis, and Zayn was growing longer by the minute, while his section remained almost empty. He tried to smile, tried to keep his spirits up for his bandmates, but the loneliness of the moment was almost overwhelming.

Niall had always been the supportive one, the easy-going guy who would never let his insecurities show. But today, they seemed to creep in uninvited. He knew he shouldn’t feel like this; after all, he was part of the most famous boy band in the world. Yet, as he watched the other boys interact with their fans, he felt a sense of being overlooked, like an underdog in the shadows of the others.

He let out a quiet sigh, his hand resting on the table in front of him, his gaze wandering across the room. That’s when he saw her.

A girl, no more than 2 or 3 years younger than him, stood at the edge of the line. Her long hair framed her face perfectly, and she had an aura of quiet confidence that immediately caught his attention. She wasn’t like the others—she wasn’t screaming or jumping with excitement—but there was something about her that stood out. She smiled shyly, her eyes locking with his for a brief moment, and Niall felt something stir inside him. It was as if she had snapped him out of his trance.

"Hi, Niall," she said softly, her voice warm and kind. "Do you mind signing this?"

She handed him a picture, one of him playing his guitar on stage, his face lit up with passion as he strummed. Niall’s heart skipped a beat as he took the photo, his eyes scanning it. "Where’d you get this?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

The girl laughed softly, a sound that made Niall’s chest tighten. "Oh, I took it when I went to your guys’ show. I brought an album too, if you want to see?"

Niall’s eyes lit up. "You brought an album?" He looked at her with genuine excitement, his earlier worries momentarily forgotten. "Of course, I’d love to see it."

She handed him a small, worn album, and Niall’s hands shook slightly as he flipped it open. Each page was filled with photos from the tour—some of him on stage, some of the other boys, and many of the band together. But as he turned the pages, it became clear that the majority of the photos were of him. His heart swelled in his chest, a lump forming in his throat. It was overwhelming to see how much effort she had put into capturing moments of him, moments that he often thought went unnoticed.

"If you couldn’t tell, you’re my favorite member," she said with a playful grin, her voice light and teasing.

Niall chuckled, his heart racing. "Really?" he asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I’m glad to hear that."

He paused for a moment, then looked up at her, his expression sincere. "Can I keep this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "It means a lot to me."

The girl’s face softened, and she nodded. "Of course, you can. It’s yours."

Niall felt a warmth spread through him. He had always been the one to encourage his fans, to make them feel special, but this moment was different. This girl, this fan, had made him feel seen in a way he never expected. She had made him feel important, like he wasn’t just the guy who played guitar in the background. He was more than that to her.

"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "This really means a lot to me."

She smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling. "No problem, Niall. It’s the least I can do."

She then hesitated for a moment, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Can we take a photo?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

Niall’s heart skipped another beat, and without thinking, he slid his arm around her shoulders. The moment their bodies touched, a strange fluttering sensation filled his chest. He hadn’t expected it, but it was there—this rush of warmth and excitement, like a thousand butterflies had suddenly taken flight in his stomach.

Y/N leaned into him, her head resting gently against his shoulder as the photo was taken. Niall’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at her, the softness of the moment making his heart race even faster. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something about her that made him feel alive, something about the way she fit perfectly against him that made him feel like he mattered.

When the photo was done, Y/N pulled away, her smile wide and bright. "Thanks, Niall. I’ll see you around," she said, waving as she turned to leave.

Niall watched her walk away, his gaze lingering on her even as she disappeared into the crowd. She was the first fan who had made him feel like more than just a background member of the band, the first to make him feel like he truly mattered. The butterflies in his stomach didn’t fade as she left, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he wasn’t just the underdog.

As he looked down at the album in his hands, he realized that this moment, this one small interaction, had changed everything for him. Y/N had made him feel seen, and he would never forget it.

PART 2

[moodymarie]

Reading fanfics with y/l/n is such a struggle as a european

Like they would never be able to pronounce my last name 😭😭😭

[strawnarrries]

Can you please please do some kind of smut with Niall body worship. He would be single in this scenario. And maybe it's after a show and one of the venue workers does not care for him for whatever reason, but she ends up alone with him, and he's all sweaty in his tank top, and he seduces her and gets her to feel all his arms and then his chest. And then he has her take his clothes off and he's super patronizing and condescending, and then he has her suck him off, and he's laughing because she can't take it all. AHHHHH!!!

"Who is performing tonight? Why is everybody freaking out?" you asked your coworker as you helped set up the buffet for the musician and their team arriving soon.

You worked as a runner backstage during music concerts for the Bridgestone Arena in Nashville, TN. It wasn't the best-paying job but you liked it. Nights usually go pretty smoothly but for some reason, the air was tense tonight. Everybody was frantic and your managers were extra particular about everything being perfect. You felt like you were constantly being pulled in every direction.

"Y/N, you don't know? It's Niall freaking Horan! He's literally gonna be here in like an hour!" she replied excitedly.

"Oh," you replied, not impressed.

"You don't like Niall Horan?"

"Eh, I've never really liked him. I've heard he's super cocky and kind of an asshole."

"Oh my gosh, don't even say that! I never fangirl over artists but I'm so excited about tonight. He's literally so hot!"

"I guess," you replied with a shrug.

"There's a rumor Noah Kahan is making a guest appearance too."

"Who?"

"Y/N!" she scolded and you giggled before she added, "For someone who works backstage at concerts, you'd think you'd be more into music."

Your workload tonight picked up even more once Niall and his team arrived. You were assigned to work with his team to help set everything up, make sure sound production was working, as well as doing little things to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Niall was actually quite pleasant to be around. Although you could definitely tell he had his cocky side, he was friendly and had a great sense of humor. The concert itself was magnificent. With all the shows you've worked for, this crowd was one of the loudest you have ever witnessed. They adored him and you now understood why. He was insanely attractive and so talented. You hadn't ever noticed until tonight.

It was after the show and everybody had started the cleanup process. You were instructed to go to Niall's room and double-check that he was okay and to get him anything he needed. You knocked on the door, nervously awaiting his response.

"Come in," he yelled.

Opening the door, you walked through and was met face to face with him. A man has never looked so good packing up his belongings after doing a show. He had taken off his leather vest and was just wearing his jeans and his black tank top. He was still sweaty from the show, slightly breathless. His biceps looked huge, glittering with sweat and you couldn't help but stare a little bit, wanting so badly to feel those muscles.

"Hey, I was told to come check on you and see if you need anything from us."

"Uh, I think I'm okay, thanks." His accent was so thick, it made your thighs involuntarily clench together.

"Okay, let me know if you need anything then," you replied, getting ready to walk back out the door before he stopped you.

"Wait," he called.

"What?"

"C'mere, I wanna talk to you."

"You wanna talk to me?" you asked, slightly shocked by his words.

"Yeah, close the door."

You closed the door behind you, taking a couple steps closer to him. Butterflies were swarming violently in your stomach, nervous that you were alone with Niall and even more nervous that he wanted to be alone with you.

"Did you like the show?" he asked, sitting down on a stool near the counter in his room. He crossed his arms over his chest, and you couldn't help but let your eyes flick down to his biceps.

"I did actually. You're really talented," you complimented.

"Did you notice me watching you?" he added.

"You were watching me?" you asked surprisingly.

"Yeah. I know you were working but I could see how badly you wanted to dance, to sway those pretty little hips to my songs."

"O-oh," you replied, feeling embarrassed.

"What's your favorite song of mine?" he asked.

"Not sure. I've never really listened to your music."

"Ouch, love," he feigned being hurt, placing a hand over his heart, "Why not?

You giggled softly at his reaction, "I don't know, I've always thought you were a little cocky."

"Ouch again!

"Well, now that I've met you I understand why," you explained.

"Oh really? Elaborate for me."

"Well, you're very attractive and a great performer. Plus if I was a guy and had all those girls screaming for me, I'd be the same way."

You felt your eyes continuing to stray from his and land on his arms. His biceps were flexing with each movement of his arm, the veins on his forearm peeking out and causing your mouth to water.

"Oh you think I'm attractive," he smirked.

"Stop, that's not the point of what I was saying," you giggled shyly.

"If it makes you feel better, I can tell you think I'm attractive."

"What? How?"

"Well for one thing, you haven't stopped staring at my arms this entire conversation," he grinned.

"O-oh, no, I-I didn't," your heart fell into your stomach; you were completely shocked and embarrassed you got caught ogling.

"You wanna feel them?" he asked, throwing you for a complete other loop.

"I-I don't-." You didn't know what to do. Of course, you wanted to feel them. But this was Niall Horan and you were on the clock. You felt like you were dreaming honestly.

"Come on, come feel them," he smirked, cocking his head.

This was never something you ever imagined you'd be doing, especially on the clock at work, but you soon found yourself moving towards him, your palms wrapping around his thick bicep. His skin was warm to the touch and his muscles were strong as you squeezed them. The next thing you knew, your hands mindlessly traveled towards his torso, his damp tank top clinging to his abs and outlining them perfectly for you. You traced them, fingers soon traveling down to the hem of his top and teasing it, wanting to badly to feel what was underneath.

Your dreams came true when you heard the words, "take it off."

But you didn't believe it. There's no way he just told you to take his shirt off, "W-what?"

"Go on, take off my tank top."

You didn't respond, just slowly slipped your hands under his top and pulled it up, over his head and oh my gosh it was so much better than you could have imagined. His chest was glistening with sweat, hair lining every inch, making him look so sexy and manly. And you didn't even want to get started on his muscles. His pecs and abs were so clearly defined, that it was obvious that this man spent a lot of time in the gym. You have never felt so turned on so quickly.

You ran your hand over his damp skin. You could feel every ridge of his muscles, the coarse chest hair slightly rough against your soft skin. You watched in awe as your hands explored his body, your mouth watering at the sight.

"Close that mouth, pretty girl, you'll catch flies."

You hadn't even noticed that your mouth had fallen open. Your cheeks immediately reddened in embarrassment as your jaw closed and he chuckled at you, "You like what you see?"

"Mhm," you hummed, nodding your head.

Lifting his hand, he used his curled index finger to lift your chin up to look at him. You stared into his gorgeous blue eyes that were covered by lust. You traced every inch of his face with your eyes, landing on his lips looking so soft and kissable. It was taking everything in your power not to kiss him.

"I can tell you wanna kiss me."

Were you being that obvious?

You didn't even reply this time, just in complete awe of the man standing in front of you. He was so cocky but ugh he had every right to be.

"Go on. Kiss me."

You smirked softly, not giving in just yet.

"You better kiss me first because, in a couple seconds, I'm not gonna be able to resist not kissing you."

"Maybe I want you to kiss me first," you challenged.

His lips immediately covered yours and oh my gosh you could not believe you were kissing Niall Horan. His lips were so soft and fuck, he was such a good kisser. You parted your lips and allowed him to lick into you, tasting you and asserting his dominance over you. You grabbed onto his waist, holding him to your chest as your lips moved in sync with his. The kisses were hot, deep, passionate, sexy, all of the above. You melted against him, feeling your abdomen clench and your panties dampen as he angled his head, kissing you deeper.

"Fuck," he mumbled against your lips.

You continued to kiss, his hands beginning to roam your entire body and you let him. He reached down and cupped both of your ass cheeks in his large palms, squeezing roughly. You whimpered slightly against his lips, chills running up your spine as he nipped softly on your lower lip.

"Get on your knees," he demanded, "Wanna feel those sexy lips wrapped around my cock."

You have never been on your knees so fast for a guy before. Your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to undo it so you could free him from his pants. You were frenzied and nervous and excited, so much that you could not get it unbuckled for the life of you.

Niall began laughing, "I got you so flustered that you can't even do a simple task like unbuckle my belt. Do I make you that nervous?"

You didn't reply, your hands getting even shakier as the seconds went by.

"Come on, sweet girl, let me help you." he hummed, reaching down and messing with his belt, easily unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops in his jeans.

"See how easy that was?" he commented and you were just glad you could finally get your hands on what you've wanted this whole time.

Unzipping his pants, you wasted no time and pulled them down his legs, letting his pants and briefs pool at his feet. His hard member was revealed to you and oh my gosh it was so much bigger than you had ever expected.

He laughed at you as you grabbed onto his member; he was so thick you just barely were able to wrap your entire palm around him, "You look scared."

"No, I just wasn't expecting you to be so big," you hummed, hating yourself for inflating his ego even more than it already was.

He was so hard. His red, swollen tip was peaking out from under his foreskin, precum oozing from his slit, practically screaming at you to do something. You began to pump him, squeezing slightly once you got to the tip, running your thumb over it and using his precum as a lubricant as you mentally prepared yourself for what was to come.

"Stop stalling. Go on and wrap those pretty little lips around my big cock."

Obeying him, you wasted no more time and took him in until he hit the back of your throat. You barely had half of him in your mouth before you began gagging, eyes watering in response.

You heard him rumble with laughter, amusement written all over his face, "Can't take it all, huh?"

"Fucking hell," you muttered mostly to yourself as you came off of him, a string of spit following you.

He smirked at your response as you took a deep breath before taking him in your mouth again. He gathered all your hair in his palms, pulling it up into a ponytail to hold it out of your face. You innocently looked up at him through your lashes, watching as his body reacted to your warm mouth wrapped around his most sensitive area. You bobbed your head up and down, your palm wrapped around what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

He pressed both hands against the side of your head and added pressure to stop your movements. Relaxing your throat, you let him take control, thrusting his hips so his member slid in and out of your warm mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged with each thrust. His balls slapped against the underside of your chin and he grunted with each thrust of his hips.

"Fuck, this is so fucking sexy. Look at you actually taking it all," he grunted.

Tears began to slowly slide down your cheeks the more you gagged on him. You looked up at him through blurry eyes and felt your panties dampen at the sight above you. He was so sexy. A thicker layer of sweat was glittering across his skin, enhancing the look of his muscles. Chest hair was sprinkled throughout his torso, his happy trail leading down to the patch of hair tickling your nose every time he bottomed out. His face was scrunched in pleasure, eyes crinkled and mouth ajar as he watched in awe as his member was soaked in your saliva, your throat constricting around him and bringing him closer to the edge by the second.

His thrusts began to get sloppy and you could tell he was close to finishing, his words soon confirming your belief, "Jesus christ, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard. Gonna swallow it all? Like the good girl you are?"

You hummed in response, preparing yourself for his load. It was only seconds later when he left his balls contracting and his orgasm ripping throughout his entire body. He grunted in pleasure as his load shot down your throat, warming your insides. Pulling out, he stroked himself a couple times to finish off his orgasm, tugging the last spurts of his load onto your tongue. Once he had come down from his high, he let out a heavy breath and watched as you swallowed every last drop of him.

"Jesus," he breathed, running a hand through his sweaty hair, "fuck, I think that was one of the best blowjobs I've ever had."

Your confidence rose as you stood on your feet in front of him, smirking at him, "Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed as he placed his hands on your hips, eyes trailing down to your lips, "you're really sexy."

"So are you," you grinned, letting his lips engulf yours before pushing him off, "As much as I wanna continue this, I am still on the clock."

He giggled at your statement before bending down and pulling his pants back up, "Give me your number and maybe we can meet up next time I'm in town."

You smiled, "Okay."

What the hell just happened?

[niallerspayno]

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

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Worth Fighting For

Prompt: The distance while he's on tour is difficult, you and Niall try to make it work.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi all!! So excited to be writing again. Please enjoy this slightly angsty, short fic. And please feel free to send any / all Niall requests my way :)

Niall’s contact photo pops up on your phone. The ringer interrupts the song you were playing through your car speakers, but before you even slide to answer, you already know the sound of his voice is going to be way better than whatever poppy tune had been on.  

“Hey babe,” you smile widely, trying to balance your phone between your ear and shoulder as you drive home from work. The fact that you would be seeing Niall tonight has been the only thing keeping you smiling throughout the day. Not even the heavy traffic can interfere with your good mood.  

Since you’ve been together, you’ve dealt with Niall spending long hours at the studio– and occasionally taking long weekend trips to Ireland or New York. But this tour was so much more difficult than any of that. 

When Niall left for his latest tour, you both were dedicated to making things work. You planned FaceTimes and phone calls and flew in to see him whenever you could. However, the last few months had been harder than you could have ever anticipated, and the distance had definitely taken a toll on your relationship. 

But right now, none of that mattered, because Niall would be home tonight.  

“Hey there,” Niall says back. You can hear chatter in the background and briefly wonder if he’s landed yet.  

“Are you almost home?” You ask, hopeful.

There’s a brief pause, then Niall sighs. “That’s actually what I was calling about—“

“Oh no,” you interrupt. “Was the flight delayed?”

“No…” he clears his throat, “I’m actually still in New York.”

The moment he says the words, your coffee canister slips from your hands, spilling over your lap and car. The heat immediately seeps through your skirt. You’re lucky you don’t crash as you try to wipe it up with the napkins stuffed in your cup holder.  

“Shit,” you gasp, your thighs burning from the hot beverage. “Shit, shit, shit—“  

“Baby?” You hear his worried voice through the line. 

You flip your blinker on and pull over on the side of the road. You wipe up the remainder of the coffee, ignoring Niall asking if everything was okay on the other end of the line.  

Once your legs no longer feel like they’re on fire, you pick your phone back up, and already on the verge of tears resume your conversation.

“Are you serious?” You ask. “I thought you had three nights off.”

“I know– I do, but we got the opportunity to play on Fallon, my agent booked it–“ 

You can tell he’s trying to dodge a fight, which you’ve been doing a lot of lately. Last week you were mad when he canceled your FaceTime date to go out with bandmates instead. The week before that, he was frustrated that you declined his offer to fly you out to Denver with less than a day's notice.

Seeing each other today has been what you were both holding onto. Or at least that’s what you thought.

“Why do you have to play Fallon, Niall? It’s not like you���re desperate to grow your image–”

“I know, but it’s a good opportunity to expand to other listeners–”

You sigh, and without raising your voice say,  “I just… We’ve had these dinner plans for so long— I mean my parents have been talking about this for weeks.“

“I know, I know, I know—“ he says frantically, “I’m so sorry, believe me, I’d much rather be there than here… this place is nuts.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, and close your eyes, listening to the sound of traffic rushing by your parked vehicle.  

“Okay,” you sigh, feeling so defeated and drained all of a sudden. “Okay, well, we’ll miss you.”

“I know, tell everyone I say I’m sorry for not being there.”

“Yeah, alright,” you agree.  

“So we’ll just talk later then?” He asks, the noise in the background getting louder.  

“Okay,” you say before hanging up. 

You can’t help but notice that the “I love you’s” were skipped.  

You drive the rest of the way home with your fingers tightly clutching the steering wheel. Your knuckles are white by the time you pull into the driveway. You drag your bag and coffee-stained self into the house to change and get ready for dinner with your family.  

You try convincing yourself that the night will be fun, regardless of the fact that Niall bailed.  But the moment you sit around the table at the restaurant and count that you are in fact the ninth wheel of the family, you know things are doomed. Plus you can’t shake the achy feeling inside your chest that makes you fear for your relationship with Niall. You’d been holding onto this weekend together with everything you had. It’s kept you grounded, and reminded you that this distance between you and Niall won’t last forever– that this tour will eventually end. 

Except now, you have nothing to hold on to.  

“Where’s Niall?” Your mother immediately asked. Of course she does– because your family loves Niall. 

Without even thinking, you lie, “His flight got delayed. Bad weather. Tornadoes, I think—“  you’re not sure why you don’t tell the truth. Denial, maybe. Embarrassment that his job would always come before you.

“Bad weather?” Your brother asks, “Where is he?”

“New York,“ you say quickly. 

Your brother pulls out his phone. After a moment his brows furrow. “Huh, weird. The weather app says it’s sunny and clear there.”

Instantly you feel your face turning red. “Yeah… weird,” you say. 

Your brother opens his mouth– probably to ask more questions, but his girlfriend elbows him, indicating for him to shut his mouth. You give her a soft smile in appreciation.

You stay quiet for the majority of the meal, and you don’t feel much like eating. You try to listen to your dad talk about golf, but all you can focus on is how Niall might chime into the conversation. You try to listen to your older brother when he complains about his meal, but all you can imagine is how Niall would nudge your leg and offer you a sly smile, knowing how much that annoyed you. 

You can’t be present because all you can do is think about how much you miss him– you miss his laugh, and the smell of his aftershave. You miss how warm hands always are, and how they’re always touching you– every chance he can get. You miss the way he can always lighten the mood, and how safe you feel just knowing he’s around. You miss him with everything inside of you– and his absence tonight only makes you miss him more. 

All-in-all, you’re relieved when everyone is ready to head home.  

“Hey,” your brother’s girlfriend catches up to you before you can head to your car.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Is everything okay? I just— I wanted to make sure, because you do know New York doesn’t really have tornados, right?”

You nod and let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I know. And Niall’s flight never got delayed,” you take a deep breath, “I guess that just sounded better than the fact that he didn’t even get on his flight. Got caught up at work,” you explain.

She sighs empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just—“ you feel the tears starting to fill your eyes and you wipe them away, embarrassed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh no,” she says empathetically.

“The distance is just, really, really hard. Way harder than I ever thought—“ Even you can tell how choked up your voice sounds. “And I just don’t see it ending anytime soon. I mean, sure, this tour will end. But he loves his job, so I know there will just be another one. And another. And can’t ask him to give that up. But I can’t compete with it. I just don’t know if I can do it—”

“Maybe you should talk to him about this,” she suggests, as she soothingly rubs your shoulder. “Tell him how much it’s bothering you. Be honest.”

You nod. “Yeah you’re probably right.” You wipe your runny nose on your sleeve.  

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod, thanking her and hugging her goodbye. She’s right. You do need to talk to Niall. But that’s a conversation you wish you could just keep on the back burner, ignoring until everything ignited. You dreaded it the whole way home.  

When you did finally arrive home, you puttered around the house– put the dishes away, washed your face, got into your pajamas, all as an effort to stall. Finally, you curled up on the couch. With no more excuses to delay the inevitable, you pulled out your phone and clicked on Niall’s contact. You hated this– everything about it. You hated that you hated it– hated that you were dreading calling your favorite person in the entire world… the only person who made you feel whole. 

The phone rang three times before Niall answered. “Hey baby,” he said cheerfully. “How’re you?”

“Okay,” you said quietly. “How was Fallon?” 

“Not bad– that guy from the TV show you like… the one on HBO? God, I can’t remember the name of it now. But he was there. Made me think of you. The crowd was fun– a few people actually knew the words. How was dinner?” He asks.  

“It was fine—“ you lie, not really wanting to fake small talk. “Everyone missed you.”

“Yeah, I wish I could’ve been there.”

You clear your throat as you anxiously pick at the skin around your thumb.  

“Listen, Niall. We need to talk—“

“Babe,” he protests, like he knows where this is going. “I already apologized for not being there— I wanted to, but I couldn’t say no after they booked the gig–”

You don’t want another fight. You’re too tired, too drained, too sad to fight. You love Niall– so much so that you wanted him around all the time– needed him. And you know Niall loves you too. But Niall also loves music, and touring. One was always going to interfere with the other, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. And suddenly, the realization that this just isn’t going to work hits you like a ton of bricks.

“I know…” you say as non-confrontational as possible, “I know it’s your job, I understand that, but I— I need you here, Niall. And maybe that’s selfish of me, or whatever, but it’s true. I need you here. And I don’t know if I can do this distance thing, I thought I could, but I don’t think I can. It’s… Honestly, it’s killing me.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Niall asks. “I mean, what do you want me to do? Quit? Do you want me to quit the tour?”

You squeeze your eyes shut in anticipation of what’s about to happen.  

“No, I don’t want that,” you say, your voice becoming thick with tears. You could never take performing away from Niall– you wouldn’t be the thing that came between him and his passion. “I hate that this is through the phone, but I don’t think we should do this anymore. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

A long, heavy silence settles over the air. It sends waves of blood pumping to your ears. It’s deafening. 

You begin wondering if you should provide more of an explanation, but then Niall speaks. 

“Baby—“ he pleads, his voice suddenly full of desperation. “Please, I know you’re mad about tonight but I can fix this—“

“I’m not mad,” you tell him honestly, pushing the emotion in your voice down and trying to muscle through. “I understand that you couldn’t say no. I know you wanted to be here but couldn’t. But I come second to your job, Niall. And I always will. And that’s not your fault. But it’s not my fault either. And I– I just think that I need more than that.”

He’s stammering incoherently on the other end, and you imagine what his face looks like right now. Is he crying? Are his eyebrows all scrunched up?

He tries protesting again, but you can’t think about anything other than getting off the phone.  

“I’m really sorry this isn’t in person, you deserve that. But I just can’t keep doing this,” you explain. “When you’re back in LA, shoot me a text and I can get your stuff together.”

“Baby–” he pleads. 

But you cut him off. “Goodbye,” you whisper, hitting the end button before he can convince you to change your mind. As soon as the line goes dead, you break out into uncontrollable sobs.  The weight on your shoulders that you thought would be lifted only felt heavier as you let yourself fall back against the cushions of the couch you bought together.

Your chest aches. Desperately, you clutch your arm around yourself, trying to hold everything together. 

It hurts like fucking hell. 

It’s the kind of pain you know will leave lasting scars– the kind you know you’ll carry with you forever. And the only person you’d ever want to call to help you through it is the one you just broke up with. 

Broke up. 

You and Niall broke up. 

You cry harder. 

You cry and cry and cry– until there’s nothing left inside of you, until you’re pretty sure if you cried anymore, you’d need an IV to replace all the fluids. You cry until finally, you drift off into an uneasy sleep, curled up on the couch with Netflix playing on the TV, the screen lighting up the otherwise dark living room. 

The clock below the TV reads 7 am when you wake to the sound of the front door opening.  

Your first instinct is to scream, but you catch a glimpse of the familiar, dark haired man crossing the room before that can happen.

“Niall?” You say groggily, rubbing your tired eyes. “What are you doing?” You feel like you might still be dreaming.

“I know you probably don’t want me here,” he says, he’s out of breath, panting, even– like he ran across the country overnight to be here. That’s when it hits you that Niall is really here– not across the country in New York, but standing in your shared living room in LA. 

“Just hear me out—” He begs. When you don’t protest, he continues. “I love my job,” he states. “Playing music has always been my dream, and then that dream came true. I love touring– I love performing.I love being able travel around so much—“

You let your eyes wander to the floor, wondering where this all is going.

“But none of that compares to how much I love you,” he says, his shoulders finally deflating.  “And I’ll quit in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes. Please, please don’t be mad– I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, I swear.”

It had been so long since Niall had told you he loved you, that you feared it might no longer be true. But as soon as he says the words with such honesty and passion, your face scrunches up and the tears start to fall, because you immediately believe him. For a moment, you forget that you’d practically broken up with him over the phone.

All you care about is that he’s here. Niall is here, standing in front of you in real life for the first time in so long. As soon as he sees your face crumple, he’s crossing the room in two quick strides. Before you can protest, he’s kneeling in front of you on the couch. 

Your knees– you think. But then one of Niall’s hands is cradling your cheek softly while the other rests on your thigh, and all you can think about is how grateful you are that he’s home. 

“I’m not mad, I just… I– I miss you–” you sob before leaning forward, arms winding around his neck while you crash into him. “I miss you so much, all the time.” 

His arms wind around you tightly. He smells so familiar, and when he tightens his grip around you, you immediately feel safe and secure and whole again– the way only Niall can make you feel.   

You’re not sure how long you stay like that. But you’re afraid that the minute you let go, things will fall apart again.  

“I miss you too,” he whispers, hand coming up to stroke through your hair. “God, I missed you so much.”

You lean into his touch, try to memorize the feel of it. Then, you sigh into his neck. “I could never ask you to quit your job. You love your job more than anything. You’d be so unhappy and I’d hate myself for making you unhappy.”

Niall pulls you away from himself– holding you out in front of him. “You come before my job, okay? It’s not even close. If I quit music, I’d miss it. Of course I would. But I can write songs here– play my guitar here. Eventually, it’d feel okay. But if I lost you–” Niall shakes his head, like the thought alone is too unbearable. “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to be happy again. You come first, okay? Always.” 

You give Niall the best attempt at a smile that you can come up with, enough to show him that you appreciate his gesture. It’s nice actually hearing how much Niall cares for you. He smiles back, it’s weak and doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s a smile all the same. And it’s Niall’s. 

But then it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a slight frown before he says, “What if you came with me?”

Taken aback, you immediately shake your head. “What? On tour?”

He nods, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Yeah, why not?”  

You open your mouth, presumably to list the reasons why that would be such a bad idea. But your mind is blank. 

“You can bring your laptop– work from the bus, or hotel or whatever. We could travel around, see things. Just be together.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’d get sick of me–”

“Are you kidding? I’m sick of being away from you.”

“Niall– there’s no way. I have work– what about the apartment?”

“It’s an apartment, not a dog. It doesn’t need food or water. Plus, I won’t be touring all the time. Just for a few more months. We’d get through it, then figure out what to do next. But we’d be together.”

The more he talked, the more you realize that maybe it isn’t such a bad idea. Like he said, it’s only a few months. Maybe it really could work. 

And in that moment, on top of admiration and love and endearment, you feel hopeful– hopeful for the first time in a long time. Because even though things between you and Niall are far from perfect, you love him and he loves you. And that’s worth fighting for.  

[merrybloomwrites]

Passing Contact - 1D x Reader

Summary: Y/N's not a fan of physical touch, but that changes when she meets the boys of One Direction.

Word Count: 860

AN: Welcome to the first of 9 weeks of ficlets! Come back every Monday for a little fic of Reader x One Direction! There will be 2 more Reader x full band, as well as a fic or two for each of the individual boys.

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From the beginning, the boys of One Direction were very comfortable being close to one another physically. Harry was the one to start the group hugs and big cuddle sessions on the couch, but eventually all five had grown used to it, and had even begun to initiate. Maybe it was being away from their homes and families, maybe it was the stress of the competition, but sharing physical touch was never weird between them. 

When One Direction was planning for their first ever tour, you’d auditioned to be their drummer, never thinking you’d hear back after submitting your reel to them. You were young, you were a girl, and you had no real experience touring on such a large scale. You later learned that all those things had counted against you, but then management realized it wouldn’t be the worst to have a young girl in the band. Something about being even more marketable, appealing to even more people.

Yes, you were there to catch the eye of teenage boys and make them fans. You don’t love that, but hey, you’re in the band. They wouldn’t have hired you if you couldn’t play, so you take it as a compliment.

Louis, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Harry quickly became your friends. You spent as much time with them as you could, often hanging in their dressing room instead of with the rest of the backing band. Within a month of tour, there had been rumors of you being in a relationship with each one of them. Of course, none of these rumors had any validity to them.

Not only were there rules in place forbidding you to date any of them, but the boys respected you as a band mate too much to make a move. They also noticed how you often shied away from any physical contact, so they always made sure to respect your personal space as well. Plus, you were all too exhausted from concerts nearly every day to even think about starting any kind of relationship.

The day after the first leg of the tour ended with a show in Belfast, the six of you made your way south again, to stay in a vacation house owned by Niall’s uncle. While you would have preferred a warm tropical destination rather than Ireland in January, no one was up to travel more than an hour at the moment. 

That first night everyone went to bed early, completely exhausted.

The second night, however, saw everyone well rested and ready to party. While you and Harry technically weren’t of age, that didn’t matter. The other four could easily supply the party with more alcohol than you could possibly consume.

You guys went through the many stages of partying, starting with the loud singing and laughter, followed by dancing on tables and thinking drinking games would be a good idea, finally ending with all of you piled together on the living room floor telling deep dark secrets. 

Which leads to you spilling more about your family life than you’d ever planned to tell, including how you basically raised yourself and learned how to play instruments to find a way out as soon as possible. You mentioned how you never really received physical comfort as a child and that’s why it feels so foreign to you now.

Of course you regretted your verbal diarrhea the next day, and you hoped maybe the boys had drank too much to remember.

But they did remember. And slowly, over the next few weeks, things began to shift. It started with Harry, as these things always did. He began wrapping his arm around you, lightly to give you space to move away, but you found yourself drifting closer instead. 

Next was Niall, always giving high fives and fist bumps, even the occasional hair ruffle. 

Then Liam began giving you piggy back rides around the venues, effortlessly carrying you around, his arms holding you tight to make sure he didn’t drop you.

Zayn, the most quiet of the group, was often found hanging on the couch watching videos on his phone during downtime. You’d seek him out when the others were being too much. He slowly drifted closer to you as you watched his phone together, and eventually you found that you’d be pressed close together, often with his arm around your shoulders. 

Louis was the last, but definitely not the most subtle. By the time he caught on, he noticed how you were now accepting of these gentle touches, the reminders that there are people who care about you. So he went all in, hugging you at least once a day, resting his chin on your shoulder, even pressing quick kisses to the top of your head like you’d seen him do with his sisters.

Each of these little touches warmed you up inside, healed something you didn’t know was broken.

The first time you got pulled into a cuddle pile was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It was on that bed, surrounded by this group of boys you call your brothers, that you finally felt whole. And finally learned what familial love should feel like.

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Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and I can't wait to share the rest with you!

An: part 2 here!

[planet-mabel]

book thief - niall horan

an: hellooo!!!! i was reading at the beach and could not get this idea out of my head so HERE WE ARE!! i hope you enjoy :) I'm cooking up part two right now

summary: a trip to bora bora leads to bumping into niall horan by the pool and accidentally swapping books!

wc: 1.8k

what i was listening to:

As I disembark from the plane, weary from the long flight and craving a good meal, I step into the Bora Bora airport. I've treated myself to a solo stay at a delightful resort here for the week, and the anticipation of this moment has been a beacon of joy during my busy days back in NYC. I yearn for some well-deserved relaxation, as the incessant bustle of New York's streets and blaring car horns can be overwhelming at times. As I make my way towards the baggage claim area, I take a moment to savor the view from the airport windows. Though it's just a glimpse, I can see fragments of swaying palm trees, and a sense of tranquility washes over me. Leaning against the baggage trolley, I pause, eagerly awaiting the familiar "beep" that signals the arrival of our luggage.

I catch sight of my obnoxious purple suitcase as it comes around the conveyor belt and quickly snatch it before heading over to the shuttle bus waiting to take me to the resort. After stowing my suitcase in the overhead compartment, I sink into the luxurious seat on the bus. While waiting for the other passengers to board, I take a moment to text my friends and family to let them know I've arrived. The bus engine roars to life as we set off down the road. I glance up from my phone and out of the window, cranking up the music in my headphones. I take in the beautiful scenery as we wind our way toward the resort. Looking around at my fellow passengers, I notice that they are all families and couples. A faint feeling of loneliness creeps in as I realize I'm traveling alone.

I let out a deep sigh, gazing out of the window at the serene, azure skies and the gentle, rhythmic dance of the palm trees swaying in the breeze, attempting to distract myself from the overwhelming sense of isolation.

As the shuttle comes to a stop at the resort, the passengers begin to disembark, and I patiently wait for my turn. Once off the shuttle, I make my way to the front desk with my bags, eagerly anticipating some rest and relaxation in my room. I provide my name and reservation to the woman at the front desk, and the concierge swiftly arranges for my bags to be taken up to my room. The humidity of the Polynesian air causes my t-shirt to cling to my skin as I wait. 

While the woman prepares my room key, I glance at a man nearby who is also checking in. His accent intrigues me, and I find myself admiring his appearance. I'm momentarily lost in thought until the woman's clearing of her throat brings me back to the present. After receiving the room key, I exchange a tight smile with the woman and mutter a quiet 'thank you.' As I head towards the elevator, I briefly meet the man's gaze before pressing the button and entering the elevator. I select the third floor, my hand tightening around the room key as the elevator ascends.

I stumble into my room, weary from the day's travel, and collapse onto the plush duvet covering the bed. Propping myself up on my elbows, I take in the surroundings. The TV faces the foot of the bed, and a familiar mini fridge rests beneath it. To the side, a closet is built into the wall, and opposite that, a sleek desk catches my eye. Across from the entrance, a sliding glass door beckons me to venture out onto the petite balcony. I rise to my feet and make my way to the small mezzanine, stepping outside to be embraced by a balmy breeze and a mesmerizing vista. I pause, closing my eyes, letting the scenery wash over me.

After re-entering the room, I gently closed the door and made my way to the luxurious en suite bathroom. I marveled at the elegant plumbing and the spacious, extravagant shower. I couldn't help but let out a whistle of admiration, feeling impressed by the lavish amenities, almost forgetting that I had only booked this place for a week but paid the equivalent of a month's rent.

I let out a contented sigh and realized that I deserved to unwind by the pool for the rest of the day. Without bothering to unpack, I quickly slip into the first bikini I lay my eyes on - a vibrant, eye-catching pink one. After ensuring that I'm thoroughly coated in sunscreen and throwing on a comfortable t-shirt for extra coverage, I grab my purse and the book I've been meaning to read. As I make my way out, I return to the elevator and descend back down to the lobby.

I hurry downstairs and make a beeline for the pool, scanning for an unoccupied, plush reclining chair. As soon as I find one, I eagerly lay down my belongings beside it, exhaling contentedly. After slipping on my sunglasses and discarding my t-shirt, I settle back, flipping through the pages of my book to pick up where I left off during the plane ride. The book in my hands is 'Violet Bent Backwards over the Grass' by Lana Del Rey. It may seem a bit unexpected for a beach trip, but I have a fondness for poetry and adore Lana Del Rey, so I thought it was worth a chance. Immersing myself back into the pages, I lose track of time, captured by the words on the pages.

I slowly rise from my lounge chair, feeling the stickiness on my back from the sun's rays. Deciding it's time to take a break from tanning, I toss my book onto my chair and head towards the glistening pool to cool off. As I settle by the water's edge, I take in the mesmerizing sight of the swirling pool while dipping my toes into the refreshing water. Surprisingly, the area is deserted, giving me the perfect opportunity to submerge myself in the pool. I resurface, gently wiping my eyes before reclining on my back and savoring a tranquil moment, finding relief from the intense heat of the island air.

I emerge from the water, climbing the steps in the shallow end. The droplets slide off my glistening skin as I make my way to my chair. As I approach, I notice a man sitting in the chair next to mine. I recognize him as the guy I saw in the lobby, engrossed in a book. I glance around at the empty seats on the pool deck, wondering why he chose the one next to me, and furrow my brow in mild irritation. Despite my annoyance, I take a moment to study his appearance. His unkempt brown hair and pointed nose catch my attention, as does the way his scruffy stubble complements his deep blue eyes. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I finally reach for my towel. I clear my throat to catch his attention and he looks up from his book, smiling softly. He gestures to the book in his hand and I immediately clock it as ‘Violet Bent Backwards over the Grass', the same one I’m reading. I glance down at my chair in search of my copy, not completely sure he didn’t swipe mine. I clear my throat to capture his attention before speaking.

"Excuse me?" I managed to pipe up, my voice a blend of nervousness and amusement. "I think that might be my book." With my towel wrapped tightly around me, I glanced down at him. He met my gaze and then looked down at the book in his hands before responding.

"Oops, my mistake," he chuckled and handed the book back to me. "I noticed it here and thought someone must have left it behind. The title seemed intriguing." I reclaimed the book and settled back into my chair. "I didn't even realize you were here, geez. If I had known, I wouldn't have sat so close." His over-apologetic tone made me chuckle softly.

"No, it's okay. I'm traveling alone, so I appreciate the company," I assured him, readjusting in my seat. "Have you read it? It's a good book, isn't it?" I say enthusiastically as I glance back at him, thumbing through the pages again. He nods before replying.

"Absolutely! I can't resist a well-crafted poem," he responds with a nod, gesturing toward the book of poems resting on the arm of his lounge chair. I let out a soft chuckle in response. 

"Ah, cool. Nice to meet another poetry enthusiast," I say with a smile before returning my attention to my book. I sense his persistent gaze on me before he speaks again.

"You mentioned you're traveling alone?" he inquires. "So am I." I look up from my book, slightly puzzled. 

"You? Why's that?" I ask, marking my place in the book and placing it on my lap. 

"You first," he counter-challenges. 

I shrug before responding, "Just needed a break. New York can be overwhelming at times, and none of my friends were up for splurging on a vacation," I explain, gesturing dramatically. "So, here I am, flying solo." I give a somewhat forced grin, and he chuckles. 

"Same here," he remarks, leaning back in his beach chair. "You mentioned New York City? Sounds exciting," he comments. I nod slightly.

"Yeah, mostly. How about you?" I inquired, curious to confirm my suspicion about his distinct accent. 

"Dublin," he declares proudly. "Dublin, Ireland." I raise an eyebrow. 

"So that's where the accent comes from," I remark slowly, raising an eyebrow. 

"I don't have an accent; you have an accent," he retorts playfully, feigning a scowl, which elicits a soft giggle from me. He grins at me, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

"Well, I should head back to my room. The chlorine always does weird things to my hair," I say with a soft chuckle as I pick up my bag and wrap my towel around my waist. He sits up in his beach chair to look at me.

"Hey, let me buy you a drink later," he suggests, gazing up at me. I take in his shirtless form reclining on the chair in front of me and for a moment, I struggle to find my words.

"Um, well, okay," I say hesitantly before regaining my composure. "Yes, that sounds good." I offer a soft smile, trying to conceal my unease. 

He nods and continues, "I'll see you at eight at the hotel bar." He stands up and I nod in response. 

an"I'll see you, book thief," before giving a small chuckle and walking from the pool deck back into the lobby. As I leisurely make my way back to the door, I hear his quiet laughter echoing behind me. A grin spreads across my face, and in that moment, I feel as lighthearted and carefree as I did in my teenage years.

[rebelelegance]

Back to You Masterlist

Planet drummer!reader x Zayn Malik One direction x platonic!reader This fic is reader driven. If there's anything you would like to see feel free to send it to my ask box! Plot

Part one: Sneaking a chance Part two: Stars and Scars