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niallerspayno · 2 days ago

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Black and White - Part 3

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

Part 1 | Part 2

...

The day unfolds in a blur, and you do your best to avoid Niall. It’s not that you don’t want to see him—it’s that you’re scared of what might happen when you do. The morning’s kiss lingers in your mind like a ghost, haunting you with its sweetness and the vulnerability it demanded.

You stick to the crew, throwing yourself into the tasks of the day: managing schedules, prepping supplies, and assisting with the stage setup. Every time you catch sight of Niall, he’s looking for you. His eyes scan the room with a focus that makes your heart race, but you always manage to duck behind someone or slip out of sight.

Niall, however, isn’t making it easy.

When lunch is delivered, you find your favorite sandwich waiting for you at the catering table with a small note in Niall’s handwriting: Don’t forget to eat, love. -N.

Your cheeks burn, and though you try to ignore the flutter in your chest, you find yourself clutching the note tighter than you should.

Later, during the soundcheck, you linger in the shadows at the side of the stage, watching the boys run through their songs. Niall’s voice rings clear and confident, his presence on stage magnetic as always. But between verses, he glances toward where you’re standing. His eyes meet yours, and the smile that spreads across his face is enough to make you duck your head and retreat further into the wings.

By the time the concert rolls around, you’re emotionally exhausted from dodging him all day. You station yourself behind the mixing desk, far from the stage where Niall’s charm feels almost weaponized against you.

But you can’t avoid him forever.

Midway through the set, Niall’s voice comes through the speakers, quiet but purposeful. “Alright, this next one’s special.”

The crowd cheers wildly, and Niall steps closer to the mic, his guitar hanging loosely around his neck. “I want to dedicate this song to someone who’s been with me through thick and thin. She’s smart, funny, and way too good at avoiding me, but I think she knows how much she means to me.”

Your heart stops.

Liam shoots you a knowing smile from his spot on stage, and Louis, ever the instigator, points right in your direction. The fans pick up on it immediately, and a wave of cheers and screams ripple through the arena.

Niall chuckles, his eyes locking with yours across the distance. “This one’s for you, love,” he says, his voice low and earnest.

As the opening chords of Little Things fill the air, your chest tightens. Every lyric feels like a confession, a quiet declaration of everything he hasn’t yet said out loud. Tears sting your eyes, and you turn away, suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment shared with thousands of strangers watching.

When the concert ends, you slip out before Niall can corner you. But back at the hotel, you know you can’t avoid him forever.

...

Back at the hotel, you pace outside the door to your shared room with Niall, your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t face him, not after the dedication, not after dodging him all day. The sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes had found yours even among the chaos of the crowd—it was too much.

Without thinking, you turn on your heel and make your way down the hall to Lottie’s room. She opens the door almost immediately, her brows furrowing in concern when she sees your face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, stepping aside to let you in.

“I can’t…” you begin, your voice cracking as you slump onto the edge of her bed. “I can’t stay in that room with him tonight.”

Lottie closes the door and crosses her arms, leaning against the wall. “Why not?”

You bury your face in your hands, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because I’m a mess, Lottie. He’s… perfect, and I’m…”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Lottie says sharply, moving to sit beside you. She places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You need to stop tearing yourself down like this.”

You shake your head, unable to meet her gaze. “You don’t understand. Niall deserves someone who—”

“Stop,” Lottie interrupts, her tone firm but kind. “What Niall deserves is someone who makes him happy. And that’s you. You’re so caught up in your insecurities that you can’t see how much he loves you.”

Your stomach twists, her words hitting too close to home. “He doesn’t love me,” you mumble, though the words feel hollow even as you say them.

Lottie scoffs, standing up and pacing the small space. “Oh, come on. You heard him tonight. He dedicated Little Things to you. Do you think he does that for just anyone?”

“He was just trying to—”

“To what?” Lottie cuts in, turning to face you. “Embarrass you? Show off? No, he was trying to tell you how he feels because you’re too stubborn to listen when he says it outright.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” Lottie says softly, sitting back down and taking your hands in hers. “You’re the one making it complicated.”

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes on the bedside table. You glance at the screen, your heart skipping a beat when you see Niall’s name.

Goodnight, love. Wherever you are, I hope you’re okay. I’m here when you’re ready to talk.

Your throat tightens as you stare at the message. The simplicity of his words, the patience and care behind them, is enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Lottie leans over, reading the message, and lets out a soft sigh. “See? He’s not giving up on you. And you shouldn’t give up on him—or yourself.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling in your chest. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” Lottie says firmly. “And you will. But maybe you need to stop running long enough to let him show you how much he cares.”

As you lay down on Lottie’s spare bed that night, Niall’s message still glowing on your screen, you can’t help but wonder if she’s right.

...

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, and you stir awake in Lottie’s room, stretching against the unfamiliar sheets. A glance at the bedside table reveals your phone buzzing incessantly with notifications.

Groaning, you reach for it, only to see your lock screen flooded with mentions and retweets. Your stomach twists with unease as you swipe to unlock it.

Your heart sinks as you spot the culprit: Lottie’s tweet, sitting proudly at the top of your feed.

“Couldn’t be happier for these two❤️ Congrats to Mr. & Mrs. Horan! 🥂 #CoupleGoals”

Beneath the caption is a photo. You blink in surprise when you realize it’s from months ago—a candid of you working on Niall’s hair in the dressing room. You’re mid-concentration, a comb in one hand and a bottle of spray in the other, while Niall sits relaxed in the chair. But it’s not the act of you doing his hair that catches your attention—it’s the way Niall is looking at you.

His blue eyes are soft and adoring, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips, as though you’re the only person in the world. The sheer intensity of the expression makes your breath hitch.

“Lottie!” you exclaim, sitting up abruptly.

She groans from her bed, half-buried in pillows. “What?”

“This,” you say, holding up your phone. “What the hell is this?”

She cracks an eye open, smirking when she sees the screen. “Oh, that? Just a little public service announcement.”

You glare at her, your face heating. “A public announcement? Lottie, this is—”

“Beautiful,” she interrupts, sitting up and stretching. “It’s beautiful, and so is the way he looks at you in that photo. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Your protests falter as you glance at the picture again. The comments are filled with excitement and positivity:

“They’re so cute together!” “Honestly, this is the most wholesome thing I’ve seen all day.” “Niall looks like he’s totally smitten.”

A lump forms in your throat when you see that Harry has retweeted it with, “Finally. #TeamNiallAndY/N” Liam’s retweet simply reads, “Told you it was true love.”

Even Zayn, who rarely gets involved, has chimed in with a single heart emoji comment.

Your heart aches as you lower the phone, the reality of the situation settling heavily on your chest.

“I thought you wanted people to think the marriage is real,” Lottie teases, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“This isn’t about that,” you mumble, clutching the phone.

“No,” she agrees, her tone softening. “This is about you finally realizing that maybe the rest of us aren’t crazy for thinking you two are perfect for each other.”

You don’t respond, staring down at the photo again. The way Niall looks at you is overwhelming, like he sees something in you that you can’t bring yourself to see in yourself.

“Do you hate it?” Lottie asks gently.

You shake your head slowly, your thumb brushing against the screen. “No. I don’t hate it.”

“Good,” she says with a smile. “Because neither does Niall.”

Your chest tightens as her words sink in, and for the first time, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he’s right about you being enough.

The room feels quieter than usual as you gather your things from Lottie’s bed, trying to ignore the way your heart is fluttering at the thought of Niall. You’re grateful for the space you’ve had overnight, but now that it’s time to pack, you can’t help but feel the weight of the conversation still hanging between you. It’s been a difficult few days, but the photo Lottie posted earlier has somehow shifted something inside you. You can’t put your finger on it yet, but something feels different.

You take a deep breath and finish packing your bag, taking your time so you don’t have to face Niall just yet. You know you can’t keep avoiding him, but part of you is terrified of what will happen when you do finally face him.

When you walk into the hallway, you spot Niall just outside the door to your shared room. He’s standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, looking down at his phone. His hair is messy, as if he’s just woken up, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as soon as he spots you.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice warm and a little too hopeful for your liking. You feel your heart race, and you can tell he’s trying so hard to close the distance that’s been between you these past few days.

“Hey,” you reply quietly, avoiding his gaze as you make your way past him to the elevator. You feel the subtle pull of his presence, and though you don’t look at him, you can sense how close he’s standing.

He catches up to you before you can escape, placing a hand gently on your arm. “Listen, I wanted to talk,” he begins, but you cut him off before he can say anything more.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, still avoiding his eyes. “Just… let me get to the airport.”

Niall looks at you for a moment, his hand lingering on your arm as if he’s searching for something in your eyes. Then, with a deep sigh, he lets go and nods, his voice quieter than usual. “Okay, yeah. I just… I’m glad you’re back with us today.” He hesitates, as if trying to find the right words. “You’re coming with me and the boys on the jet today, by the way.”

You pause mid-step, confused. “What? I’m not—”

“You are,” he interrupts, smiling at the disbelief in your voice. “You’re flying with us. This time, it’s not commercial. I’ve been thinking about it, and I just… I want you around. I’m tired of not being able to see you.”

You blink, trying to process the change. You’ve always flown commercial with the crew, a quiet observer of the chaos that comes with touring. But now? Now, Niall’s pulling you into his world—his world with the boys, a private jet, and the kind of attention you’d never expected.

“I—Niall, I didn’t expect—”

He cuts you off with a gentle grin. “I know. But I’ve missed you, and I figured you deserved a little upgrade. You’ve been working so hard, and I just want you to be a part of everything. I don’t want you to be so far away.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes your chest tighten. “Niall, you don’t have to do this,” you say softly, still unsure of your place in all of this.

But Niall shakes his head. “I want to. I need you there, Y/N. You’ve been an important part of all of this for so long, and I don’t want to make you feel like an outsider.”

You’re caught in the warmth of his words, the weight of his care settling around you like a blanket. You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you nod, and that’s enough for Niall.

“Great,” he says, his smile widening. “It’s settled, then. I’m just happy you’ll be with us.”

He steps closer, brushing a hand over your shoulder briefly. The touch is gentle, filled with a tenderness that leaves you breathless. Niall’s always been this way—open, kind, and unafraid to show you how much you mean to him. But the way you’ve been pulling away has left a gap that you’re not sure how to close.

“Ready for the flight?” he asks as you walk together toward the door. “We’re gonna have a blast.”

You nod, but you can’t help the swirling uncertainty that still tugs at your insides. You know Niall’s trying to break down your walls, but your fears still hold you back. He may be right about how much he cares, but you’re still struggling to believe that you deserve it.

...

The private jet hums softly, the engines a steady purr beneath the gentle chatter of the boys. You sit next to Niall, the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours as he gently rubs soothing circles over your knuckles. The soft pressure of his touch helps ease some of the tension in your shoulders, though you still feel the storm brewing inside.

The boys are scattered around the cabin, talking easily amongst themselves. Harry and Liam are in the seats across from you, joking around with Zayn, who’s sitting by the window with his headphones on, looking like he’s trying to shut out the noise. Paul, ever the calming presence, is chatting with Louis at the back, but you can tell he’s observing everything with a quiet, watchful eye.

Even with all the noise and chaos of the tour life, it’s peaceful here. The small, intimate setting of the jet feels like a little world unto itself, one where it’s just you and them, removed from the constant spotlight. And for the first time in days, you let yourself breathe a little easier, the weight of everyone’s teasing and attention putting you at ease.

Liam, leans over and gives you a teasing smile. “So, is it official yet? You two going public or are we still keeping the mystery alive?” he says, his eyes flicking between you and Niall.

“Lottie already let the cat out of the bag,” Zayn adds with a smirk, nodding toward his phone. “Her tweet’s all over the place now. I’m surprised you two didn’t already do the big reveal.”

You look down at your hands, your stomach flipping. The tweet. The photo of you and Niall from months ago, when you were working on his hair in the dressing room, and the way Niall was looking at you in that moment… like you were the only person in the world. The comments were all filled with warmth and support, even from the boys. Still, you felt exposed, like something too private had slipped out into the world too soon.

Niall’s thumb traces your skin gently, grounding you in the present. “You okay?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern as he notices your discomfort.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, trying to push away the unease, “just... a lot to take in.”

Harry leans forward, grinning. “The fans are loving it though. Lottie’s tweet got so many likes, it’s almost like she’s made you two official.”

“You two are the worst,” you mutter, giving them a small smile, though the teasing only heightens the feeling of everything being just a bit too real.

Niall chuckles beside you, but there’s a softness in his gaze when he meets your eyes. “I don’t care about the fans, love,” he says gently, his hand squeezing yours. “I just care about you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache, but you can’t bring yourself to respond right away. Instead, you turn your head toward the window, trying to find something to focus on outside, anything to distract yourself from the weight of his words.

After a few minutes, Niall shifts a little, his voice low and a little hesitant. “I miss us,” he says quietly. “I miss the way we used to joke around, you know? You always kept me on my toes, and now... I feel like you’re pulling away.”

His words are like a gentle tug at your heart. You glance at him, meeting his blue eyes that are full of warmth but also a trace of concern. “I’m not pulling away,” you whisper, though even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice. “I just... I don’t know how to handle everything now that it’s... real.”

Niall leans in closer, his hand still holding yours. “What do you mean by that?”

You swallow, suddenly feeling very small under his gaze. You’re afraid to say it out loud, but the words spill from your lips before you can stop them. “It feels like... we’ve crossed a line, Niall. It’s not just fun and games anymore. It’s real. And I’m scared.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, just holds you in that steady gaze, his thumb continuing to trace circles on your skin as if he’s trying to calm the whirlwind inside of you.

“It’s always been real for me,” he says quietly. “But I get it. Things change when you stop pretending, when you stop playing around. But just ‘cause it’s real doesn’t mean it’s something to be afraid of. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You close your eyes, the warmth of his words sinking into you like a balm. You want to believe him, really, you do. But all the doubts that have plagued you still linger, and you’re not sure how to let them go.

The conversation is interrupted when Louis, who’s been watching the two of you with a mischievous grin, pipes up from the back. “I still don’t get why you two are so quiet. Just kiss already, for God’s sake. You’re making me uncomfortable!”

The boys all laugh, and even you can’t help but chuckle, though the laughter feels a little strained.

Niall grins at Louis, “You’re incorrigible,” he mutters, but his hand squeezes yours again, bringing you back to the quiet, intimate moment you’re sharing with him.

As the plane begins its descent, you find yourself looking at Niall in a new light—still scared, still unsure, but also hopeful in a way you haven’t been in a long time.

Maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to take a step forward.

...

The dressing room is buzzing with the usual chaos as the boys get ready for the night’s performance. Lottie is finishing up Liam’s hair while Harry cracks jokes with Zayn about their latest tour antics, and Louis pretends to choreograph a full-on dance routine in the corner. The atmosphere is lighthearted, the easy camaraderie that’s always existed between you, Lottie, and the boys filling the air once again.

You're moving between them, carefully applying makeup, adjusting hair, and adding finishing touches to their outfits. Your hands feel steady as you work, but you can’t ignore how much it means to be surrounded by all this laughter and warmth. Things feel more normal now, the distance between you and Niall beginning to melt away. You find yourself joking along with the boys, teasing them like you used to, and for the first time in what feels like ages, your heart feels lighter.

“I’m telling you, Louis,” you tease, “you’ve got the best moves out of anyone here. But, you know, the world’s not ready for all that talent just yet.”

Louis strikes a ridiculous pose, causing the entire room to burst into laughter. "You're just jealous,” he jokes, putting on an exaggerated pout.

You roll your eyes, and Zayn smirks, chiming in, “Someone better tell Louis he can’t dance in the front row during the show. It’s too distracting.”

The playful teasing continues, and in the middle of the laughter, Niall suddenly catches your eye from across the room. He’s sitting in the makeup chair, a content smile tugging at his lips as he watches the chaos around him.

You glance at him, a small smile of your own creeping up as you go back to touching up Harry’s hair. Niall’s expression softens, his eyes warming as he catches your gaze, the fondness in them unmistakable. You know the moment he speaks, his words will be full of that open, heartfelt honesty he’s always had.

“Oi,” Niall calls from his seat, his voice light but full of affection. “When are you gonna stop making everyone else look so good and give me some attention, eh? You’ve already got half of us looking like movie stars.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Someone’s feeling a little too confident today.”

Before you can say anything else, he pats the chair next to him. “Come here,” he says, but instead of waiting for you to sit, he reaches out, gently pulling you into his lap. It’s so natural, so easy, and you can’t help but melt into the warmth of his embrace. “I missed you.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, and you feel a rush of emotions you’ve been trying to avoid. You've been putting distance between you, but here he is—pulling you into his arms, not letting you pull away.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond, but then you give in, leaning in to kiss him softly on the cheek. It's quick, but the tenderness of the moment makes your heart flutter.

“You alright?” Niall asks, his blue eyes locking onto yours. His voice is quiet, like he’s afraid to push you too much.

You nod quickly, offering a faint smile. “Yeah, just... it’s been a long day, you know?”

He nods in understanding, his hand resting lightly on your waist, keeping you close. For a moment, the noise and chaos of the room fade away, and it’s just the two of you in the space between the teasing and laughter.

Louis, noticing the exchange, gives you a mischievous grin, waggling his eyebrows. “Aww, look at that. Mrs. Horan making Niall blush,” he teases, causing everyone to pause and look your way.

Your breath catches, your cheeks flushing at the playful remark. But there’s no malice in it—just warmth, just lighthearted teasing. And you can’t help but smile, even though the idea of being “Mrs. Horan” feels foreign and suddenly so real.

“Stop it,” you mutter, feeling your heart race. “We’re just friends.”

Niall, ever open with his feelings, flashes you a playful grin and says, “Not for long, Mrs. Horan. You’ll see.”

The room bursts into laughter, but it's not mocking—it’s full of warmth and affection. The teasing doesn’t bother you, not anymore. For the first time, you let yourself enjoy the moment, the connection you share with Niall and the boys.

As the laughter dies down, Niall gets up to leave with the others, already heading toward the stage. Before he goes, he pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. His voice is low and sincere as he whispers, “See you out there. I’ll be looking for you.”

You watch him walk away, your hand instinctively going to the spot where his lips lingered, and your heart skips a beat. You’re not sure what the future holds, but for the first time in a long while, you feel hopeful.

Lottie catches your eye from across the room, a knowing smirk on her face. “You two,” she says softly, teasingly. “It’s so obvious, you know?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays the way your heart is fluttering. “Not a word,” you warn, though deep down, you’re starting to accept what’s been right in front of you all along.

...

The concert has ended, and the buzz of excitement is still thick in the air as everyone begins packing up. Roadies move efficiently, coiling wires and dismantling equipment, while the rest of the boys joke around and take selfies with crew members. You hang back near the edge of the stage, watching the scene unfold with a soft smile.

“You alright there, love?” Niall’s voice cuts through the hum of activity, gentle and warm.

You turn to find him standing a few feet away, his guitar slung casually over his shoulder. There’s something easy in his posture, like he belongs exactly where he is, but the glint in his eye is entirely focused on you.

“Yeah, just… soaking it all in,” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding toward the center of the stage. “Stay with me for a bit.”

You hesitate, but the way he holds out his hand—steady, patient, and inviting—makes it impossible to say no. Slowly, you make your way toward him, your fingers brushing his as he helps you up onto the platform.

The stage feels vast and quiet now, the crowd long gone, the energy of the night lingering like a distant echo. Niall settles onto one of the stools left behind, patting the one beside him.

“Sit,” he says, his tone light but his eyes serious. “I’ve got somethin’ for you.”

You sit, curiosity flickering to life. “What are you up to, Horan?”

He grins, adjusting the guitar in his lap. “You’ll see.”

The first few chords are familiar, soft and aching, and as he begins to play, your heart skips a beat. It’s Irresistible.

His voice is low and smooth as he starts to sing, the words weaving through the air like a spell.

“Don’t try to make me stay, or ask if I’m okay

I don’t have the answer…”

There’s something different in the way he sings, something intimate, like each lyric is meant for you and no one else. You can’t help but watch him—his fingers dancing over the strings, the way his lashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks, the way his voice carries every ounce of emotion in his heart.

When he reaches the chorus, your breath catches.

“I find your lips so kissable

And your kiss unmissable

Your fingertips so touchable…”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world feels impossibly small, just the two of you in this vast, empty space. The words seem to hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and you wonder if he’s trying to tell you something he can’t quite say out loud.

“Niall,” you murmur as the song fades, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sets the guitar aside, leaning forward just slightly, his blue eyes searching yours. “Yeah?”

“That was… beautiful.” You can feel your cheeks warming under his gaze.

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his smile. “Felt like the right song to play.”

Your stomach twists in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. “You sang that like it meant something,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Niall doesn’t hesitate. “It does.”

The silence that follows is electric, charged with all the things neither of you is saying but both of you are feeling. His hand moves, just a little, brushing against yours where it rests on your knee. The touch is light but deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’re irresistible, you know that?” he says softly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart race.

You laugh nervously, trying to break the tension, but it doesn’t work. “You’re just saying that because I let you drag me up here.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. And I think… you’re startin’ to believe it too.”

The vulnerability in his words is disarming, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel the need to run from it. Instead, you let yourself lean into it, even just a little.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

Niall’s smile grows, and for a moment, you think he might close the distance between you. But instead, he just leans back, picking up his guitar again.

“Alright, love. Your turn,” he says, strumming a playful chord.

You raise an eyebrow. “My turn for what?”

“Tell me your favorite song, and I’ll play it for you. Consider it my way of keepin’ you here a bit longer.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but you can’t help the way your heart swells. As you sit there, watching him wait for your answer, you realize that maybe—just maybe—you don’t mind staying.

“You & I.” You respond.

Niall tilts his head at your request, his brows raising slightly. “You & I? Proper classic that, isn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip. “It’s one of my favorites. Please?”

His smile softens, and without another word, he adjusts the guitar in his lap and begins to play the familiar opening notes. The sound is achingly beautiful, filling the quiet stage with a gentle melody that feels like it’s wrapping around you both.

His voice, smooth and rich, carries the lyrics effortlessly.

“I figured it out

I figured it out from black and white

Seconds and hours

Maybe they had to take some time…”

The way he sings feels personal, each word dripping with quiet emotion, as if he’s speaking to you and you alone. His eyes flick up to meet yours occasionally, and every time they do, it feels like the floor beneath you shifts.

The boys, who had been lingering further back on the stage, grow quiet. Louis leans against a stack of amps, his arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face. Harry nudges Liam, who just shakes his head with a soft smile, while Zayn raises an eyebrow at the scene unfolding.

“Would you look at that,” Louis whispers, pulling his phone out silently.

The camera clicks, capturing the image of you perched on the stool beside Niall, your expression a mix of awe and affection as you watch him sing. Niall’s focus is entirely on you, the guitar cradled in his hands as the stage lights cast a golden glow around you both. Louis grins, opening Twitter.

“Look at these two. My heart can’t take it. 🎶💙 #YouAndI #UnmissableMoments”

He hits post, shoving his phone back into his pocket as the song builds to its crescendo.

“You and I

We don’t wanna be like them

We can make it ’til the end

Nothing can come between

You and I…”

Niall’s voice is steady, strong, yet tender, and you can feel the emotion swell in your chest. By the time he reaches the final note, the room feels heavy with unspoken words.

The applause is soft but heartfelt as the boys clap quietly in the background. Niall gives a small, bashful smile, his fingers still resting on the strings.

“Didn’t butcher it, did I?” he teases, his voice low, a hint of nervousness lacing the question.

You shake your head, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “No. It was perfect.”

For a moment, you just look at him, the air thick with something unspoken. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, and you’re almost certain he can hear it.

“Niall,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can see the surprise flash in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something deeper, warmer.

“You sure about that?” he asks, his voice gentle, his tone teasing just enough to make you smile.

You nod, your pulse quickening. “I’ve never been more sure.”

“Alright,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “C’mere.”

He shifts the guitar off his lap, placing it gently to the side. His hand moves to your cheek, the pad of his thumb grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you. His touch is light, careful, like he’s afraid you might break if he holds on too tightly.

The world around you seems to fade, the faint hum of the stage lights the only sound as he leans in. Your breath catches when his lips brush yours, feather-light at first, testing, as though he’s giving you one last chance to pull away.

But you don’t.

You lean in, meeting him halfway, and the kiss deepens. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a mix of confidence and tenderness that leaves your knees weak, even though you’re sitting down. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you just a little closer.

There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s slow, deliberate—like he’s savoring every second. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, woodsy and fresh, mingling with the warmth radiating from his skin. His thumb strokes your neck absently, sending tiny sparks of electricity through you, and it feels as though he’s memorizing the moment, etching it into his bones.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, the rhythm echoing in your ears, but it’s not the frantic kind of beat you were expecting. It’s steady, like a quiet reassurance that this—whatever this is—is exactly where you’re meant to be.

When he finally pulls back, it’s gradual, like he’s reluctant to let the moment end. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he lingers close. His thumb makes one final pass over your skin before his hand drops to your lap, where it stays, his fingers brushing lightly against yours.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The air between you hums with something unspoken, something fragile and new, and yet somehow ancient, like it’s always been there, waiting for you to find it.

“You alright?” he asks softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nod, your lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his thumb tracing idle circles over the back of your hand. “Good. That’s all I want.”

The stage feels impossibly small now, like the only two people in the world are you and him. You don’t know what this means—what happens next—but for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel the need to figure it out.

You lean back slightly, your gaze locked on his. “That song,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady. “It felt like you meant it for me.”

Niall smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he squeezes your hand gently. “Maybe I did.”

Your chest tightens at the quiet honesty in his voice, but instead of retreating, you let it settle over you like a warm blanket.

For now, that’s enough.

…

The walk back to your shared hotel room is wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled with words. Niall stays close, his hand brushing against yours now and then, the occasional touch sending a flutter through your chest. The air is cool, but his presence beside you is a steady warmth, grounding you in the moment.

When you reach the room, you slip inside together, greeted by the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp. The room feels cozy, a quiet sanctuary from the emotions of the evening. You kick off your shoes and let out a deep sigh, the kind that comes from both relief and exhaustion.

Niall lingers by the bed, watching you with a small smile as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom. The mirror reflects a version of yourself you haven’t seen in a while—your cheeks have a faint flush, your eyes softer, lighter. There’s something there, a little glow you hadn’t expected, and it makes you pause.

When you emerge, changed into your soft cotton pajamas, Niall’s already under the covers. His hair is mussed, and the dim lighting casts a golden halo over his features. He looks so effortlessly himself, so inviting, that it takes no second thought for you to climb in beside him.

The bed is warm, and the moment you settle, Niall pulls you into his side, his arm wrapping securely around your waist. You rest your head on his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat greets you. It’s a soft, grounding sound, steady and constant like him.

“Long day,” he murmurs, his voice low and honeyed, the vibration of it resonating through his chest beneath your cheek.

You hum in agreement, nuzzling into him a little closer. His body radiates warmth, and the faint scent of his cologne—woodsy and clean—lingers on his shirt.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his hand beginning to move in slow, soothing circles over your back.

“Yeah,” you whisper, the word coming easier than you expected. “I think I am.”

A soft smile curves his lips. You feel it more than see it, his chin brushing lightly against the top of your head.

The quiet stretches out, comfortable and full of something unspoken but deeply understood. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your back—circles, swirls, lazy lines that melt the last bits of tension from your body. The motion is hypnotic, your muscles relaxing one by one as you sink deeper into the warmth of him.

He shifts slightly, just enough to press his lips to your forehead. The kiss is feather-light, but it’s enough to send a wave of warmth through you, pooling low in your chest.

“I meant it,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp in the quiet room. “I’ll wait as long as you need. No rush. No pressure. Just… us.”

His words settle over you like a blanket, warm and reassuring. You shift against him, your nose brushing the curve of his neck as you let out a quiet, contented sigh.

“Thank you,” you mumble sleepily, your voice barely audible against his skin.

His hand pauses on your back for a moment before resuming its slow, rhythmic movements. “Always,” he whispers, his breath warm against your hair.

He tugs the blanket higher around you both, cocooning you in the shared warmth of the bed. His fingers trace over your shoulder now, up to your collarbone, and back down again in a soothing, lulling rhythm. The sound of his breathing, steady and calm, blends with the faint hum of the city outside, and you let yourself relax fully, cocooned in his care.

As sleep pulls you under, you feel his lips brush your temple one last time, a quiet promise etched into the night. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe in the safety of this moment, in the warmth of him, and in the possibility of something beautiful waiting just ahead.

...

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, bathing the hotel room in a warm, golden glow. You wake slowly, your senses gradually piecing the world together—the crisp scent of the linens, the weight of the blanket over you, and the steady rise and fall of Niall’s chest beneath your cheek.

His arm is still draped around you, holding you close even in sleep. His face is serene, every line and feature softened by the quiet vulnerability of slumber. His lashes rest against his cheek, and his lips are slightly parted, his breath slow and even.

You don’t move at first, content to simply watch him, the peace of the moment wrapping around you like a second blanket. But as your gaze lingers, an ache stirs in your chest—a deep, quiet longing that feels equal parts terrifying and wonderful.

Before you can think too much about it, your hand moves on its own, reaching out to gently trace the curve of his jaw. Your fingers barely skim his skin, hesitant at first, but the warmth of him pulls you in. You let your thumb glide over the rough stubble on his chin, the texture grounding you in the reality of him.

He stirs under your touch, a soft sound escaping his lips as his eyes flutter open. For a moment, he looks disoriented, his gaze hazy as it settles on you. But then he sees the way you’re looking at him, and a soft, sleepy smile curves his lips.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep, the Irish lilt more pronounced in its drowsiness.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your fingers stilling on his cheek.

He shifts slightly, his arm tightening around your waist as he blinks himself further awake. His gaze searches yours, his eyes warm and curious. “What are you doing?”

“Just… looking at you,” you admit, your voice quieter than usual, as though the moment might shatter if you speak too loudly.

His smile grows, softer and more genuine, and he turns his head slightly so your palm rests fully against his cheek. He leans into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours. “Like what you see?” he teases gently, though there’s an undercurrent of sincerity in his tone.

You nod, the weight of your emotions catching in your throat for a moment before you manage to speak. “Yeah. I do.”

His expression shifts then, his teasing giving way to something deeper, something quieter. His free hand comes up to cover yours, holding it against his face as he watches you, waiting.

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, your voice soft but steady. “About everything. About you and me and…” You trail off, searching for the right words.

“And?” he prompts, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“I’m ready,” you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m ready to really try with you. A real relationship—not just this… married-on-paper thing we’ve got going.”

His breath hitches slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and your heart starts to race. But then his lips part, and his voice comes out soft, almost disbelieving.

“You mean that?”

“I mean it,” you say, your hand pressing a little firmer against his cheek. “I’m scared, but I don’t want to be anymore. I want this. I want you.”

The smile that spreads across his face is slow and radiant, like the sun breaking through a storm. He shifts, propping himself up slightly so he can look at you properly, his hands framing your face now.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll take it slow. However you need. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe with me.”

“You already do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Niall’s gaze flickers down to your lips, and the air between you grows thick with an unspoken tension. His hands remain gentle on your face, his thumbs brushing over your skin as though you’re something precious. You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, your lips meet in a kiss that starts soft and sweet but deepens quickly.

It’s a release, a culmination of all the quiet moments and tentative steps between you. His lips are warm and soft, and the way he kisses you is unhurried, like he’s savoring every second. You sigh into it, your hands sliding from his face into his hair, tangling in the messy blond strands as he shifts to pull you closer.

When his arms wrap around your waist, you take the opportunity to move, pushing yourself onto your knees and leaning over him. He lets out a soft, surprised laugh against your lips as you settle yourself on top of him, straddling his lap, but it’s quickly swallowed by another kiss.

“Niall,” you murmur between breaths, your forehead resting against his for a moment.

“Yeah, love?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, his hands steadying you at your waist.

“You’re…” You pause, trying to find the words, but instead of finishing the sentence, you kiss him again, pouring every ounce of feeling you can’t quite articulate into the way your lips move against his.

The room is alive with tension as you straddle Niall, your legs on either side of his hips, his hands warm and firm on your waist. His touch lingers, teasingly possessive, as though he’s making up for years of restraint all in one moment. Your lips meet again, a fire igniting between you that has you completely consumed.

His kisses are deep, unrelenting, and filled with everything unsaid between you. His tongue brushes against yours in a way that has your breath hitching, your fingers tangling in his hair as if anchoring yourself to this moment. His stubble grazes your skin as his lips move to your jawline, then trail down the column of your neck, leaving a path of warmth that makes you shiver.

“Niall,” you murmur, your voice soft but laden with need.

He groans at the sound of his name, his grip on your waist tightening as his lips return to yours. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispers against your mouth, his breath warm and uneven. “Every damn day.”

You smile against his lips, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “So have I,” you admit, the honesty spilling out of you as naturally as your next kiss.

His hands move to your back, his touch slow and deliberate as he presses you closer, your bodies flush against one another. The heat between you is electric, every small movement fanning the flames of desire that have been building for far too long.

You shift slightly, your thighs tightening around him as his hands slide beneath your shirt, his touch searing against your bare skin. The intimacy of it, the sheer closeness, makes your heart race.

But you’re so lost in each other—so completely consumed—that neither of you hears the faint creak of the door opening.

“Oi, seriously?”

The familiar voice has you freezing mid-kiss, your eyes flying open as you turn toward the doorway. Standing there, arms crossed with an expression that can only be described as both amused and exasperated, is Louis.

“Oh my God,” you mutter, quickly burying your face in Niall’s shoulder as mortification floods through you.

Niall lets out a low groan, his hands still resting on your hips as he turns his head toward Louis. “Really, mate? Timing’s impeccable.”

Louis raises a brow, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back a grin. “Well, excuse me for trying to check if you two were alive. Didn’t realize I’d walked into... that.”

Your cheeks burn, and you try to move off Niall’s lap, but his hands hold you firmly in place. “Don’t,” he murmurs softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “It’s okay.”

Louis, however, is already pulling his phone out of his pocket, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “I mean, I could just leave...” he starts, but the way his thumb hovers over the screen makes it clear he’s not going anywhere.

“Louis,” Niall warns, his tone a mix of irritation and amusement.

“What?” Louis says, feigning innocence as he snaps a photo. “For posterity.”

“Delete that!” you exclaim, finally finding your voice as you glare at him from over Niall’s shoulder.

Louis smirks. “Too late. Already in the cloud.” He pockets his phone with a shrug before turning toward the door. “Don’t take too long. The lads are placing bets on how red your faces are when you finally come out.”

With that, he disappears, leaving you and Niall in stunned silence.

After a beat, Niall chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath you. “Well, that’s one way to break the tension.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never leaving this room again.”

He gently tugs your hands away, his eyes soft as they meet yours. “Hey,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I don’t care who knows. Let them tease all they want. I’m right where I want to be.”

Your heart swells at his words, and despite your embarrassment, you lean in to kiss him again—soft, slow, and filled with the promise of everything still to come.

Niall’s fingers linger on your waist as you slide off his lap, both of you still breathless and flushed. His lips are swollen from your kisses, and the look in his eyes is a mix of heat and tenderness. He grins, his voice low and teasing as he murmurs, “Guess we’ll call this... to be continued, yeah?”

You laugh softly, brushing a hand over his chest. “Definitely to be continued.”

Niall leans down, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead before pulling you close, his hands warm on your back. “We should head downstairs before Louis sends a search party—and probably a few humiliating tweets.”

You groan, already dreading what awaits. “He already took that photo. What else could he possibly do?”

Niall chuckles, grabbing your hand as he opens the door. “Love, it’s Louis. He’ll have spun an entire story by now.”

The two of you make your way to the hotel dining area, the sound of laughter hitting your ears before you even step inside. As you round the corner, the boys and Lottie are already gathered at a table, plates of food spread out, the atmosphere lively. But the moment you and Niall walk in, the room falls silent.

“Well, well, well,” Louis starts, standing dramatically as if presenting the two of you to an imaginary audience. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!”

“Oh no,” you mutter under your breath, already bracing yourself.

Louis picks up his phone from the table, holding it up like a trophy. “For those of you who missed it—and by that, I mean no one, because this photo’s gone viral—behold!”

He turns the screen toward you and Niall. It’s the blurry photo he took upstairs, the one of you straddling Niall on the bed, his hands firmly on your hips, your faces just inches apart.

“Oh my god, Louis!” You cover your face with your hands, mortified.

Lottie bursts into laughter, nearly choking on her orange juice. “Louis, you are the worst, but also, this is incredible.”

“I mean, if this isn’t a wedding night moment,” Louis says, smirking as he puts his phone back down, “then I don’t know what is.”

“Delete it,” Niall says, though he’s clearly amused, his arm slipping casually around your waist.

“Absolutely not,” Louis fires back, leaning back in his chair. “It’s art. The world deserves to see it.”

Harry, sitting across the table, grins as he sips his coffee. “Honestly, though, we were all wondering how long it’d take you two. Years of pining, and then you go and get married before anything happens?”

Liam shakes his head, a teasing sigh escaping his lips. “Seriously. You two could’ve saved us all the trouble by just admitting it back in the day.”

“It’s about time,” Zayn adds, his tone cool but the glint in his eyes giving him away. “The tension was unbearable.”

“And exhausting,” Lottie chimes in, her smile genuine as she looks between the two of you. “But honestly, I’m just happy you’re finally happy. It’s about damn time.”

Niall squeezes your waist gently, pulling you closer as he presses a quick kiss to your temple. “For the record,” he says, glancing at the group, “we’ve decided to start a real relationship. Officially.”

There’s a beat of silence before Louis dramatically claps his hands together. “Finally! Took you long enough! Honestly, I was about to write the vows myself.”

“You would write the vows,” you say, rolling your eyes but laughing despite yourself.

“Better me than Niall,” Louis quips. “He’d just sing them to you.”

“Not a bad idea,” Harry says, grinning. “Actually, Niall, got anything prepared? A little ‘She’s the One’ serenade for the table?”

“Alright, alright, enough,” Niall says, laughing as he pulls out your chair for you. He sits beside you, his hand staying firmly on your knee under the table. “Let the lady eat in peace.”

“Fine,” Louis says, a sly grin on his face. “But just so you know, this isn’t the last you’ve heard of it.”

Breakfast continues in the same lighthearted tone, with jokes flying across the table and occasional references to the infamous photo. But through it all, Niall stays close, his touches gentle and constant—his hand brushing against yours, his knee bumping yours under the table.

And for the first time in a long time, surrounded by laughter and warmth, you feel truly at ease. It’s as if the walls you built around yourself are finally crumbling, and you realise you don’t mind one bit.

#niall horan x reader #niall horan x y/n #niall horan fanfiction #niall x reader #niall horan x you

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a-spes · 1 day ago

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Can I request a Kate Bishop fic with a fem reader where they're dating and the reader finally opened up about their mental health struggles and past attempts and shows Kate the scars that formed from self harm and they have a serious conversation and the fic is very fluffy? If this is too dark or triggering I completely understand.

Down A Dangerous Road. — One-Shot. (4,344 words).

" The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love. "

| Tags & Warnings — Kate Bishop x Reader. Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic. One-shot. Comforting and Happy Ending. Crying, Depression, Healing, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Implied Past Self-Harm, Self-Harm Ideations (No Act Is Described Or Happen), Suicidal Ideations. Please, read carefully, and take care <3

| MAIN MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES.

You can't recognize your face.

And it doesn't matter for how long you've been starring at your reflection, because the image returned by the mirror still feels foreign.

You looked at it until the details became blurry, until it became a shapless form that blends in with the rest of the room. You looked at it until you could not tell what you were looking at anymore.

Your gaze lost in emptiness, you wonder where did your smile go. And you may have been watching yourself in the mirror for hours, but you still haven't found it.

At some point, you tried to forcefully bring the smile back on your face, forcing the edges of your lips to rise again. Yet, it looked wrong. It was ridiculous, and painfully fake.

It was the eyes.

Because they never lie, and there was no chance that Kate wouldn't see past the act you were trying to put up. The woman knows you too well to fall into your traps, and as soon as she enters the appartment you share, she will know something is wrong. Without asking any questions, without speaking, just by looking into your eyes, she will know, and that is the last thing you want.

Kate Bishop may be your girlfriend, but she also is a hero, and you know how demanding her job can be. Every day, she puts her life in danger to save thousand of strangers — Something for which you deeply admire her. The last thing you want is to add your problems to the weight she is already carrying.

After a day spent in your bed, thinking about all the things that needed to be done, blaming yourself for not being able to complete the tasks,

You wish you could give your girlfriend the comfort she deserves. Usually, by the time she is back home, you would have taken care of most of the chores.

But not today.

Today, you have been unable to achieve anything. You spent the day in your bed, and if you were unable to move, your thoughts were racing the whole time, not giving you a moment to rest — How could you, when you had so much to do?

The dirty laundry was still in the basket, despite your promise to do it. The bed was undone, exactly how she left it this morning. And there was no warm meal waiting for her on her return, you didn't even have the energy to cook yourself anything, too busy drowning in your guilt, and shame.

When you woke up this morning, you tried to ignore it.

You tried to get up, and go about your day, as if your body didn't weight ten times what it usually does, as if every breath you took wasn't stealing all your energy.

It is a feeling you knew all too well, one you thought you would never know again. That's why you had ignored the signs that appeared in the previous days, fooling yourself into thinking that everything was fine when it was not.

It is your fault, you thought.

It is your fault because you preferred to pretend that you were just tired, even though it quickly became obvious that it wasn't the cause of your torments.

Soon, the few more hours of sleep became a day spent in bed, unable to leave the comfort of your sheets. Suddenly, everything was overwhelming, even the idea of getting up, and so you just kept putting off the moment when you'll have to do it, until the day was already coming to an end — It is too late, now.

You had tried to pretend that everything was fine. You had tried to push these feelings away because you didn't want to face the truth — That you were slowly going back to the state you were in months ago, when you were at you lowest. You wanted to ignore the signs of your distress, not wanting to go back to the days when you were so hopeless, in such agony, that you've resorted to drastic measures.

It has been months — fifteen exactly, and three days — since you last did it, a bit less than a year since you last thought about doing it.

Fifteen months.

Almost a year, and a half.

It is a lot of time, and so you thought your struggles were behind you. You may never forget the things you have done, the scars on your arms being a constant reminder of where you come from, but it felt like those things happened ages ago.

How could you have imagined that, fifteen months later, you would suddenly be back where you started, feeling as distraught as the day you decided to stop? You couldn't, because you never thought that life would be cruel enough to try to tear you away from your newly acquired peace.

Now that you had tasted how sweet life could be, you didn't want to give up this privilege, knowing you wouldn't be strong enough to survive losing everything for the second time. It is a battle you barely survived the first time, one that left permanent scars on your soul and body, and you have spent years trying to rebuild yourself after that — Something you recently achieved, or so you thought.

Everything has been so perfect since you met Kate.

One day, you bumped into each other, and since, you have been unable to pull apart. Your lives became entangled, creating a mess you didn't want to get rid of.

She gave you a reason to stay. Not only for her, but for yourself. She gave you something you have been missing all your life, something you couldn't find on your own — Hope. She gifted with you the most important thing in someone's life.

At first, you were staying because you wanted to read her next messages, because you were waiting for your next encounters, eager to see her smile and hear her laugh at least one more time.

But then, you stayed because you have learned how it felt to be loved, and seen. When you were by her side, it was as if everything became clear, and the future you have long refused to imagine, thinking that you would never live to see it, suddenly became a reality. One that was filled with the best this world had to offer, things that you always thought you didn't deserve.

And so you stayed.

The path to recovery hasn't been easy, but you made it, and thought that it was eventually behind you — You wanted it to be, because you felt ready to move on.

Until today.

Today, you are standing in the bathroom, seconds away from doing something wrong — Really wrong.

Today, your hands are gripping so tightly the rim of the porcelain basin that your knuckles are turning white, because you are scared of the things you might do if you free your hands.

Today, you can't let go of these ideas that poison your mind, you can't silence those vicious voices.

Today, you went back two years, and you are powerless again as you try to fight the same demons than the ones that used to haunt you. You have tried to ignore them, but instead of making them go away, it made them stronger.

Your breath is erratic, and your chest rising quickly, as you feel the panic rising up inside you. You are doing everything you can to ignore the aching feeling in your arms, fighting against yourself to not draw more blood out of them, to not break the promise you made yourself sixteen months ago — To never do it again. Ever. To prove them that you could be stronger than they thought, that you could be a lot more than just a disappointment, a failure.

You refuse to draw new lines along the old ones.

But your determination alone was not enough to save you from this situation, and you felt like you were merely postponing the inevitable. The whole day, you have tried to ignore these thoughts, but your mind was restless, and your thhoughts always returned, invitably, those dark scenarios.

You were consumed by this sense of hopelessness. It was blinding you, preventing you from seeing anything but the worst — What was the point of trying if you were doomed to fall back every time? There is nothing more frustrating than your inability to get better despite your attempts.

You want to be fine, more than anything, because Kate deserves the best, and because now that she is by your side, you are no longer sure you want to leave this life.

But when you look at yourself in the mirror, all you see is a girl that You have dark circles so pronounced that no amount of concealer could hide them. Your eyes were puffy, and red, because you spent most of your day crying in frustration.

But even the tears hasn't been enough to ease your mind, and you eventually ran out of them before you feel any better. On the contrary, it was even worse.

You wanted to cry, to get rid of the emotions that have settled in your body, those that were too much, but you couldn't, and nothing seemed to bring you comfort.

Your favorite food tasted strange, and the characters of your comfort were only getting on your nerves. Today, everything was too much, nothing felt right, and the things that were supposed to bring you comfort, only elicit cries of frustration for you.

You have tossed in bed most of the day, unable to rest, or to do anything else. And, as the hours went by, the thoughts you first tried to ignore, became obsessive. They looped in your mind, like a music that would play a little too loud, but that you couldn't stop.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't hear when the door clicked, nor the footsteps that followed. Even when the woman swore, because her keys slipped out of her hands, you didn't react. Yet, usually you would have reprimanded her, shouting from the other end of the apartment.

But not today. Today it remained silent.

Yours ears were ringing, and you couldn't quite make the difference between the noises in your surroundings, and the things that were in your head. You were enveloped in a kind of mist that blended everything.

It was only when she entered the room that you realized she was home — Already? But you had so much to do, and barely time to do anything. She could not be home already, it is impossible.

Kate has been cautious, trying to not startle you because she noticed that you seemed.. absent. But, despite the gentleness of her gesture, you jumped when her hand came to rest on your shoulder.

A gesture that was supposed to be gentle, and tender, but which simply accentuated your confusion — She couldn't be home, not yet. She couldn't see the evidences of your inability. Yet, before you get a chance to say something, to try to find an excuse, the woman spoke.

"Love, what's wrong?" she whispered, the concern evident in her voice as she talks.

She is not asking if you are okay, already knowing that you would lie, brushing away the question. You always do this, you always tell her you are fine when you are not.

In addition, it seemed like an unnecessary question to ask. Even if she wasn't your girlfriend, she could have seen it, the sorrow on your face. It was written on every feature of your face — And that made her feel terrible.

It had been a long time since she has seen you in such a state, and in the past, the woman had hope that it would be the last every time because she couldn't stand to see your suffering. In these moments, Kate wished she could take it all, and replace your pained expression by a smile. But she can't work miracles. She is not a witch, only an archer, and her weapons were of no use to her in such a situation.

There was nothing she hated more than this feeling of helplessness. She is a hero. If she can save the world, if she can fight villain, then she should be able to make your demons go away — Right? What was the point of being strong, if she wasn't strong enough to help the only person that really matters?

But your problems couldn't be solved with a fist.

It was something invisible, something more vicious. A battle against yourself, and whatever dark thoughts the voices in your head came up with this time. It was a battle she couldn't fight for you, one you had to win on your own.

But you weren't sure you are strong enough to fight it, and you would rather run away — After all, it is your specialty, isn't it? You had this bad habit of burrying all the things you didn't want to feel deep down, where they could not bother you anymore — At least, until they eventually became too much to be kept hidden.

And that's exactly what you wanted to do, when Kate asked this question — "What's wrong?" The second the question crossed her lips, you wanted to answer it with a lie — "Nothing, I am fine."

But you knew better than to lie to Kate.

The woman is not dumb enough to believe anything else than the truth. She could already read the reasons for your torments on your face, and strange attitude.

Usually, when she comes home, you wait impatiently for her return, throwing yourself into her arms as soon as she walks through the door, and never you have hidden as you did today.

You were torn between two opposite needs, and while a part of you demanded that you remain strong, another part whispered to you to accept the comfort Kate was offering. You were craving for it, wanting nothing more than to throw yourself in her arms, but for that you needed to admit your weaknesses first, to share your darkest thoughts with her despite the fear that knotted your throat.

What if she leaves? One of the little voices says.

What if she eventually realizes that she deserves better? Someone that is not a complete mess. Someone she could build a future with.

But when she saw the tears in your eyes, when saw your hesitation to accept the comfort she was trying to provide, none of these thoughts crossed her mind, not even for an instant, because Kate could never see you as weak.

On the contrary, she was amazed by your strenght, and resilence, witnessing all the battles you have fought in silence, believing it was your burden, and only yours, to carry.

That is what was worrying Kate the most, your silences. She always made sure to keep an eye on you from afar, and even when you tought she was unaware of your mal-being, she was providing small, and almost invisible, acts of reassurance, waiting for the moment you would be ready to talk about it soon.

But she might have forgotten how stubborn you are.

When she came home that day, she feared that she had given you too much space, that she waited too long. The relief she felt when she saw you were fine came with the promise that she won't allow you to hide in silence anymore.

However, it seemed that you were eventually ready to accept a bit of the comfort the woman could provide. In fact, you came to the same conclusions — You waited too long, and it almost led you to make a big mistake.

When you walked up to her, the woman immediately opened her arms to you, a silent encouragement to chase away your last hesitations.

It is when you eventually find comfort in her embrace that your last barriers collapse, and then you can't hide your tears anymore. Your face may be burried into her neck, but she knows that you are crying. The woman does not need to see your face to reach this conclusion, your body being shaken by each of your loud sobs.

For the next few dozens of minutes, your cries are the only thing that break the silence. You desperately want to explain yourself, but you can't stop the tears long enough to say a few words — What could you say, anyway? How could you admit your darkest thoughts to the person you love the most?

You can't, because the urge not to worry her is surpassing all of your fears. You are ready to fight this battle alone, and to lose it alone, if it means not dragging the archer into it.

Kate is so gentle. She always finds time for you despite her hero obligations. She shows a patience with you that no one has ever shown before. She made you feel loved, and seen, even in the toughest moments.

Sometimes, you feel like you do not deserve her sweetness, the woman having given you more than you will ever be able to give her back — She gave you hope, a reason to stay, to try again.

She cradles you, pressing soft kisses on your forehead from time to time. Kate provides reassurance, but she doesn't try once to make your tears stop, or to force the words out of your mouth.

The archer simply waits.

She waits until your tears dry on their own, until you feel ready to speak, because that is not her decision to make.

But, when you eventually felt ready to pull away, and to leave the comfort of her embrace to meet her gaze, the words didn't come, still stuck in your knotted throat. You looked at her, your eyes puffy from your intense crying, and you really wanted to say something — you had to — and yet you remained silent.

Your thoughts were a mess that you couldn't make sense of, partially because of a headache, coupled with the excessive emotions you were feeling at the moment. Everything was so overwhelming, and you knew that, the second you would try to speak, you would cry again, and that's the last thing you want.

Fortunately, Kate seemed to understand your silent pleas for help. Of the entire evening, if she hasn't broached the subject again, waiting for you to do it first, she has been keeping an eye on you at all time — The woman was scared of what you might do in her back.

It is only later in the evening, when you were both in the living room, lying on the couch, that the words suddenly came back.

Kate was sitting with her legs crossed, and you were lying down with your head resting on her thigh. One of her hands was unconsciouly stroking your hair, a gesture that was enough to take all your worries away. You were supposed to watch a movie, but you weren't able to stay focused for more than a few minutes, your thoughts being louder that the voices of your comfort characters.

"I was thinking about harming myself," you bluntly admitted, and the woman didn't reply — not yet, because she could feel that you were not done, that more words wanted to escape your lips, but they were heavy, and not easy to pronounce.

The last thing she wanted was to pressure you, fearing that it would push you further into silence. However, despite her apparent lack of reaction, you can feel that the news trouble her, her hand halting its movement for a moment before resuming.

When you spoke, you were cautious, afraid that the woman would scream, but the anger never came to replace the tenderness of her gesture, and so, despite your initial hesitation, you eventually found the courage to continue your explanations.

"Earlier, in the bathroom, that is what was wrong," you explained further, "but I didn't do it, I promise," you immediately added, feeling a sudden need to justify yourself, probably because you didn't want Kate to worry too much. "It has been months since I last did it, and I haven't even thought about doing it since. But tonight, it was.. different.. and when I saw my old scars, I- I don't know, I felt so desperate. It is as if there is no point in trying, as if I could never get better, and these scars will always be there to remind me that I am a mess," you paused for a second before sharing the last few words that were on your mind, the hardest. "Tonight, I almost gave in to those urges," you said, eventually admitting the darkest thoughts that crossed your mind earlier that day.

"Love, you are not a mess," she whispers softly, trying to not show how touched she is by your confession. Kate has seen the scars before, but she never mentioned the subject, waiting for the day you would be comfortable enough to open up on your own. "Do you know what I see in these lines?" She asked, as her hand stop stroking your hair and move towards your arm, where she traces your scars with a tenderness that no one has ever shown you before.

You shake your head — No, you don't know.

"I see all your strenght," she softly answered the question, "because you've come a long way, and you did it on your own. You never gave up, even when the world was against you," she added, and that is when your gazes eventually met.

"What if next time I can't stop myself?" You mumbled the question after a silence of several minutes. You were hesitant, and your words were carrying all your fears.

"Then I'll be here to stop you," she promised, and her hands cupped your face, preventing you from looking away as she talks. "I won't let that happen, I will catch you before you hit rock bottom, and we'll get through this together as many times as it takes, okay?" She added, but despite the confidence in her voice, the woman is worried — What if you decide to remain silent once more, and she can't see the signs of your distress before it is too late? The thought that she might loose you was consuming her from the inside.

And you believed her, and every of her words, because when you looked in her eyes, you only saw the promise of a better future — You saw hope, and determination,something you have been desperatly lacking the past few days.

"I know it is bad," you confessed, "I know that I shouldn't do that, but.. you know, sometimes, it's.. the pain, it won't go away, and these voices won't shut up..," you took a break to take a deep breath that will give you the courage to go on.

You know the woman will tell you that you do not need to explain yourself, but you still feel like you need to, as if the explanations could make the situation less embarrasing.

The woman would never judge you for the things you have done when you were at you lowest, but some had in the past, and sometimes you could still hear their voices in the back of your mind. You were a disapointment to everyone. Everyone, but Kate. The archer was able to see past the darkness that stained your heart. She saw the person behind the pain, and gave you a chance to feel love.

"I don't want to go back to it, Kate," you said, almost begging, and she could see the tears that filled your eyes, she could hear the way your voice broke on the last words despite your attempt to stay strong.

"I know, baby, and I won't let you," she promised again, "we will figure it out together, you don't have to face it alone anymore, okay? I am here for you, now," she soflty said in your ear, right before she lays a comforting kiss on your forehead.

When she thinks about the things you had to endure in silence, about the ones the battle you fought alone, her heart breaks. She can't accept that you had no one to take care of you when you were at your lowest, and she is determined to make things different this time.

If the archer had to take a step back from saving the world to save you, she would not hesitate, not even for an instant — What was the point in being a hero if she couldn't save the only person that really matter, the one she loves?

"I am proud of you, for telling me," she later whispered, when you were already in bed, entangled in each other. She was holding you firmly in her arms, as if she was scared that you would disapear if she wasn't careful enough.

Kate was aware of how difficult it was for you to accept being vulnetable to others, and the praise meant more to you than she could have imagined when she said those words.

You knew that the next weeks wouldn't be easy, because healing never is. It was a constant battle against oneself. Yet, this time, you feel ready, and sure of yourself, because Kate is by your side. She said it, she promised it, and knowing that you wouldn't have to face your demons alone made them less scary.

She is your reason.

Your reason to stay, your light, your everything.

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