#niall horan series

[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✨

[stellatekintsugi]

Niall Horan

[itscoucouharry]

Falling slowly- part 3

Trigger warning: body image issues, angst, mean Niall

It’s now the 5th day at Willow Ridge. Y/n and Niall have become quite friendly with each other. Until Niall has a bad day.

The day started off unremarkable, though you couldn’t help but notice how quiet Niall had been at breakfast. He sat across from you, staring at his plate, barely touching his food. You’d asked him if he was okay, and he’d only given you a half-hearted nod before retreating into silence.

By now, you’d learned to give him space when he needed it. Everyone had their moments at Willow Ridge, yourself included, and you understood the importance of letting someone breathe. But as the day wore on, his silence grew heavier, and you couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong.

Group therapy was when it became clear. He sat slouched in his chair, his hood pulled up, arms crossed. When it was his turn to share, his tone was clipped, almost dismissive.

“I’ve been sleeping better, I guess,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean much, though, does it? Not when everything else still feels like shit.”

Rick, the counselor, tried to guide him, asking gentle questions, but Niall didn’t engage. He just shrugged off every prompt until Rick eventually moved on.

You glanced at him a few times, hoping for some kind of silent reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. It left you feeling uneasy, like you were waiting for a storm to break.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the tension was unbearable. You found him in the common room, sprawled out on the couch with his headphones in, staring at the ceiling. You hovered in the doorway for a moment, debating whether to approach him. Finally, you worked up the courage to cross the room and sit down in the armchair nearby.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been really quiet today.”

Niall didn’t respond right away. He pulled out one earbud and looked at you, his expression cold. “What do you want, Y/N?”

The tone of his voice made your stomach drop. “I just… wanted to check on you,” you said carefully. “You’ve seemed off, and I—”

“Maybe don’t,” he interrupted, sitting up now and fixing you with a hard stare. “I don’t need you to ‘check on me’ every time I have a bad day. Christ, you act like it’s your job or something.”

His words were sharp, but you tried to stay calm. “I’m not trying to upset you. I just care about you, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe stop,” he snapped, his voice rising. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you to care about me. And honestly, it’s exhausting. You hover over me like I’m some kind of broken project you’re trying to fix.”

The breath caught in your throat. “I’m not trying to fix you,” you said, your voice shaking. “I just want to help—”

“Help? How are you gonna help me when you can’t even help yourself?” he shot back, his words laced with venom. “You walk around here like a ghost, all sad eyes and apologies, acting like the world’s against you. Maybe it is, but that’s not my problem.”

Your heart sank, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a wave. “I thought we were friends,” you said quietly.

“Friends?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You think this is friendship? Us sitting around talking about how miserable we are? Newsflash, Y/N, you’re not my therapist. You’re not even close. So stop acting like it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Niall rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, you’re always sorry. Sorry for existing, sorry for breathing too loud, sorry for taking up space. Maybe if you stopped apologizing and started actually doing something about your life, you wouldn’t feel so goddamn sorry all the time.”

That was it. You stood abruptly, clutching your Hello Kitty notebook to your chest like a shield. Your hands trembled as you tried to find the words to respond, but they wouldn’t come. His words had cut too deep, slicing into the parts of yourself you tried so hard to protect.

“Don’t worry,” you managed to say, your voice breaking. “I won’t bother you again.”

He didn’t stop you as you walked away. He didn’t call after you, didn’t try to apologize or explain himself. And that hurt more than anything he’d said.

You ended up in the garden, the one place that felt even remotely safe. The air was cool, the sun dipping low in the sky, and you sank onto a bench, trying to catch your breath.

But no matter how hard you tried, his words wouldn’t stop echoing in your mind. You can’t even help yourself… You’re not my therapist… Stop apologizing.

Your chest tightened as the familiar voice in your head joined in. He’s right, you know. You’re too much. You’ve always been too much. That’s why people leave. That’s why he’s pushing you away.

The tears came then, hot and fast, spilling down your cheeks as you hugged your knees to your chest. You wanted to disappear, to melt into the ground and leave all the pain behind.

For what felt like hours, you sat there, your sobs muffled by the sleeve of your hoodie. No one came looking for you, and a small, bitter part of you was glad for it.

You didn’t know how to face Niall again—or if you even wanted to. All you knew was that his words had opened a wound you weren’t sure would ever heal.

[daisyblog]

Niall Horan Series

Based on this request to write for Niall. Just a couple of ideas, please feel free to send me your own✨🩵

[narrycherries]

(1) how’s one to know..

harry is just an ass and she is just a stranger — series introduction, bit of angst

(2) an incandescent glow

She just wanted to have a fun night out, but Harry has a tendency to ruin things.. — angst and sadness filled

(3) putting roots in my dreamland

Despite wishing he didn’t exist, she had no choice but to be around him.. — short but necessary angst for the story

(4) and now I’m covered in you..

She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble and it irritates him more than it should. — a scary situation creates a lot of conflicting thoughts for both characters.. angst

this series is loosely inspired by the song ivy by taylor swift

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ playlist *ੈ✩‧₊˚

(just a few songs that inspired this series & what I listen to while writing it :: these are my music preferences so if you don’t like them.. don’t listen) •••slight spoilers so be aware/you can skip over this•••

ivy - taylor swift

lie to girls - sabrina carpenter

my boy only breaks his favorite toys - taylor swift

norman fucking rockwell- lana del rey

right now - one direction

souvenir - selena gomez

something in the way - nirvana

fine line - harry styles

guilty as sin - taylor swift

cinnamon girl - lana del rey

brain stew- greenday

the next best american record - lana del rey

dancing with our hands tied - taylor swift

lips of an angel - hinder

tonight - zayn

small talk - niall horan

iris - goo goo dolls

so it goes - taylor swift

stay over - tove lo

love is a wild thing - kacey musgraves

false god - taylor swift

little freak - harry styles

crimson and clover - joan jett (& the blackhearts)

I can fix him (no really I can) - taylor swift

get stoned - hinder

angel - kacey musgraves

there you are - zayn

nobody gets me - sza

alone - heart

cardigan - taylor swift

lover of mine - 5sos

mateo- tove lo

strong - one direction

[jezebelblues]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 | 𝐇.𝐒 ݁ᛪ༙ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭.

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.

pt. i, pt. ii

𝐂𝐖: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 7.3k

❏ yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.” 

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN  frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower’s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant. 

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

[tpwkmadeline]

the downfall of liam payne will actually be talked about for centuries

like what do you MEAN he said he preys on one direction fans specifically because “they will always be loyal to him and won’t tell on him”

HELLOOOOOO?

10/16 edit: please refer to this post.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Guitar Strings of Joy - Harry Styles

Word Count: 1702

Summary: Big moments, yet small ones are rather special to share with the people who support you through it all aren't they?

You stood backstage, your fingers running across the familiar strings of your guitar.

The hum of the crowd vibrated through the floor beneath your feet, and you could hear the murmur of excitement building as the lights dimmed in the arena.

It was one of those nights—one of those moments—that made your heart race, even after years of touring with Harry.

As one of his guitarists, you had played in some of the biggest venues worldwide, but tonight was different.

Tonight, you weren't just his guitarist, you were also his girlfriend and the soon-to-be mother of your first child.

A flutter of nervous excitement mingled with your anticipation.

In just a few minutes, your secret would no longer be yours.

Harry had insisted on making this night special, and you had agreed. You'd been planning it for weeks, keeping your little secret close.

The gender reveal of your baby would happen right here, on stage, in front of thousands of fans.

And it would be you who would announce it with the iconic guitar solo of Harry's song, 'Adore You'.

The thought made your stomach flip with both nerves and excitement.

Harry's voice came through the speakers as he greeted the crowd, his tone warm and familiar, like a friend welcoming everyone into his home.

He had that effect on people, a natural ease that made even the largest of crowds feel intimate.

"Hey, everybody! How are we feeling tonight?" Harry's voice boomed through the arena, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

You could almost see him in your mind, smiling that boyish grin that had captured hearts all over the world.

You listened as Harry went through the opening set, your fingers moving instinctively over your guitar strings, getting in sync with the rhythm of the band.

You had played these songs a hundred times, but tonight there was an added weight to every note.

Then, it was time.

The moment you had both been waiting for.

Harry paused after finishing the previous song, letting the last note fade into the electric buzz of the crowd.

He looked over at you, his eyes sparkling with something that made your heart skip.

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to build anticipation.

“So, before we go on,” Harry began, his voice suddenly quieter, more intimate, “I want to share something special with you all. Tonight isn’t just another concert for us. It’s also a really special night for me and someone you all know pretty well.”

The crowd murmured in curiosity, a wave of whispers rippling through the sea of people.

You felt your pulse quicken. You knew this was it.

Harry's eyes met yours again, and for a second, it was just the two of you.

You smiled, trying to steady your breathing.

“For those of you who don’t know, the amazing guitarist who’s been up here with me every night is also the love of my life, y/n.” Harry's words sent a surge of applause and cheers through the crowd.

You felt your cheeks flush, both from the warmth of the spotlight and the love that emanated from the audience.

“And we’ve got a little surprise for you all tonight,” Harry continued, his voice tinged with excitement. “You see, y/n and I are expecting a baby!”

The cheers grew louder, and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

The audience’s energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider.

Harry waited for the noise to die down before speaking again. “Now, we thought long and hard about how we wanted to reveal the gender of our baby, and we decided there was no better place to do it than right here, with all of you."

"So, during the next song, when y/n plays the guitar solo, you’re going to see some fireworks. And when you do, the color of those fireworks will tell you if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

The crowd erupted again, this time with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

This was it.

You nodded at Harry, who gave you a reassuring smile, and then he turned back to the crowd.

“This is ‘Adore You,’” Harry announced, and the familiar notes began to fill the arena.

Your fingers moved over the strings, finding the melody with ease.

The song had always been special to you and Harry.

It was one of the first songs you had worked on together, back when your relationship was still new, still fragile.

Now, it felt like a full-circle moment, standing here with him, about to share the biggest news of your lives with thousands of people.

As the song built towards the solo, your nerves returned, but so did a deep sense of calm.

This was your moment.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, grounding yourself, and then you stepped forward, into the spotlight.

The world seemed to hold its breath as you played the opening notes of the solo.

The sound of your guitar echoed through the arena, each note carrying with it the weight of the moment.

The crowd fell silent, waiting, watching.

And then, as the solo reached its peak, the arena exploded in a dazzling display of color.

Fireworks shot into the sky, bursting into a shower of brilliant blue.

The crowd gasped in unison, and then the cheers began, louder than ever before.

You felt a wave of emotion crash over you, tears springing to your eyes as you played the final notes of the solo.

A boy.

You were having a boy.

Harry was beside you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you as the crowd continued to cheer.

You could feel him shaking, overwhelmed with emotion, just as you were.

You held onto each other, sharing the moment, as the blue fireworks continued to light up the sky above you.

Harry took the microphone again, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, his words directed both to the audience and to you. “We can’t wait to meet our little fella, and we’re so grateful to have you all here with us tonight to share this moment.”

The crowd roared in response, and you felt another wave of tears threaten to spill over.

You glanced at Harry, who was looking at you with a mixture of love and awe.

It was a look you would never tire of.

As the final notes of "Adore You" faded into the night, Harry turned back to the audience.

��I think we’re going to need to play one more song after that,” he said with a laugh, and the crowd cheered in agreement.

But before you started the next song, Harry leaned in close to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes shining.

You smiled, your heart full. “I love you too,” you replied, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

It was just you, standing on stage, under a sky filled with blue fireworks, ready to welcome the next chapter of your lives together.

Harry turned back to the microphone, and the band launched into the next song, the energy in the arena electric.

You picked up the melody, your fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, but your mind was still on what had just happened.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Harry's face when the fireworks had exploded in blue.

The pure, unfiltered joy, mixed with a touch of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was all real.

As you played through the set, you found yourself sneaking glances at Harry, catching his eye whenever you could.

Each time, he would smile at you, that same look of love and awe in his eyes.

It was a look that told you everything you needed to know about your future.

You were going to be just fine.

More than fine—you were going to be a family.

The rest of the concert flew by in a blur of music and lights.

The crowd was more alive than ever, feeding off the energy of the night.

When the final notes of the last song echoed through the arena, the applause was deafening.

Harry and you stood side by side, looking out at the sea of faces, each one filled with love and joy.

It was a moment neither of you would ever forget.

As the band left the stage, Harry grabbed your hand, pulling you close.

“We did it,” he whispered in your ear, his voice filled with pride.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “We did,” you agreed. “And now, we get to do the next part.”

Harry grinned, his hand resting on your belly. “I can’t wait.”

Backstage, the rest of the band and crew congratulated you, the air filled with hugs and laughter.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement, still riding the high of the reveal.

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart full to bursting.

Later that night, after the arena had emptied and the crew had packed up, Harry and you found yourselves alone in your dressing room.

The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a warm, contented glow.

Harry sat down on the couch, pulling you down beside him.

“I still can’t believe it,” Harry said, his voice soft as he rested his hand on your belly. “A boy.”

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I know,” you said, your voice equally soft. “It feels like a dream.”

Harry kissed the top of your head, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your stomach. “It’s a dream I never want to wake up from,” he whispered.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the excitement of the night giving way to a peaceful calm.

The future stretched out before you, bright and full of possibilities.

And as you sat there, in the quiet of the night, you knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together, as a family.

And that was all you needed.

[myimaginarymary]

If I had a nickel for every time a movie is totally not Harry Styles fanfiction, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

This man btw…

(Harry Styles not Dr. Doofenshmirtz for clarification)

[justmeinatree]

Let Passion Get Too Much

Summary : niall x louis x reader threesome. with a sprinkle of feelings.

Series TW : it's a smut fic and it's full of filth !! each chapter will have it's appropriate warnings.

01. Let Passion Get Too Much

02. Together, We're The Greatest

03. Just Wanna Stay In The Moment

04. How Good We Have It Though

-Extra : Saturdays Take The Pain Away

05. Woke Up Still Dreaming

06. ‘Cause I Want You Bad

-Extra : Put A Little Love On Me

07. Touch Is Made Of Something

08. Get It Out Of My System

09. We Still Dance

10. Everything I Waited For

-Extra : Tell Each Other What We Dream About

11. When I’m Alone With You

12.

......

Masterlist

[harrywavycurly]

Texting Boyfriend Niall Horan Part 6: Ten Minutes

Masterlist: Here

CW: None

Tag List: @blckburd @fanboysfangirl

A/N: I got asked for Niall thinking you’re with him but you’re not and also for him just wanting a “quickie” in the bathroom😂 so enjoy✨

[itscoucouharry]

Rewritten Scars- Ch. 2

This took all day for me to finish and post 😭I’m still so unsure about it so let me know how yall feel. As always enjoy!!:)

Chapter Two: Fractured Foundations

The elevator doors slid shut behind you, sealing off the opulence of Styles Enterprises. You clutched the strap of your bag so hard your knuckles ached, trying to steady the rush of emotions clawing their way to the surface. Pride, unease, and something darker—a smoldering anger that had lain dormant for years.

Harry fucking Styles. The name alone churned your stomach. You thought you’d buried the pain he caused, but seeing him again had cracked open the wounds you’d spent years stitching together.

The city streets were loud and chaotic as usual, but you barely registered the noise. Your thoughts were elsewhere, back in high school hallways that reeked of stale sweat and teenage cruelty.

“Move it, piggy.”

Harry’s voice had been loud, cutting through the chatter like a blade. You froze in the crowded hallway, clutching your books to your chest, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

You turned to see him leaning against his locker, flanked by his group of equally smug friends. His piercing green eyes sparkled with amusement, the dimpled grin on his face belying the venom in his words.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” he continued, louder this time. “Oh wait, maybe you couldn’t over all the wheezing. That gym class really kicked your ass, huh?”

Laughter erupted around you. Your face burned as you tried to push past them, but Harry stepped in your way, blocking your path with his lanky frame.

“Where are you going?” he asked, feigning concern. “You mad? Don’t cry now. We’re just having a laugh.”

The sting of humiliation was unbearable. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“Fuck off, Harry,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

“What was that?” he said, leaning closer. “Speak up, piggy.”

“Fuck. Off.” This time, your voice was louder, trembling with fury and embarrassment.

For a moment, his smirk faltered, replaced by something harder, meaner. But then it was back, even wider than before.

“Relax,” he said, stepping aside with a mock bow. “Don’t trip over your own feet on the way out.”

You shoved past him, the sound of their laughter following you down the hallway.

The memory hit you like a freight train, stopping you in your tracks on the sidewalk. Your breathing was shallow, your chest tight. It had been years, but the sting of his words and the weight of his ridicule felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

And now, that same boy—the one who made you feel like you were nothing—was sitting in a corner office, wearing a tailored suit and acting like he didn’t have blood on his hands.

Fuck him, you thought, your jaw clenching. Fuck him and the fancy office he rode in on.

The next day, an email arrived in your inbox.

Subject: Job Offer – Marketing Position

You stared at the screen, your chest tight. The offer was incredible—better than you’d dreamed. But the idea of working under him made your stomach churn. Still, you weren’t the same girl he used to tear down. You were stronger now, tougher. And if life had thrown him back in your path, maybe it was for a reason.

You hit “Reply” before you could second-guess yourself.

Subject: Acceptance of Job Offer

“Thank you for this opportunity. I accept the position and look forward to contributing to the success of Styles Enterprises.”

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the screen. This wasn’t just about a job anymore. This was about proving to yourself—and to him—that you weren’t that scared, humiliated teenager anymore.

Your first day at Styles Enterprises started smoothly enough. The HR team was efficient, your new colleagues seemed friendly, and the office itself was breathtaking. But no amount of modern architecture or designer furniture could distract you from the heavy knot of anticipation in your stomach.

By midday, the inevitable happened.

“Y/N,” a voice called behind you.

You turned to see Harry Styles standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets and a guarded expression on his face. His green eyes flickered with something unreadable—nervousness, maybe.

“Mr. Styles,” you said flatly.

“Can I have a word?” he asked, gesturing toward a nearby conference room.

You hesitated but nodded. “Sure.”

The room was small, with glass walls that offered a partial view of the bustling office. Harry closed the door behind you, leaning against the table with his arms crossed.

“Look,” he began, his voice low. “I know we didn’t exactly… get along back in the day.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s a fucking understatement.”

He winced at your words, his jaw tightening. “I was an asshole,” he admitted. “A complete dick. And I know an apology doesn’t erase what I did, but I am sorry, Y/N. I was a stupid kid, and I didn’t realize how much damage I was doing.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. Part of you wanted to accept the apology, to believe that people could change. But another part of you, the part still carrying the scars of his cruelty, wasn’t ready to let him off the hook.

“An apology doesn’t fix shit,” you said, your voice cold. “You don’t just get to say sorry and expect everything to be fine.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect that. I just… I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here. If you ever need anything—”

“I won’t,” you cut him off. “I’m here to work, Harry. Not to revisit the past.”

His shoulders sagged slightly, and for the first time, he looked genuinely ashamed. “Understood,” he said.

You nodded, turning to leave the room. But before you opened the door, you paused.

“For what it’s worth,” you said without looking back, “I’ve changed too. I’m not the girl you used to push around.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I can see that.”

You didn’t respond, walking out of the room with your head held high. You’d faced him once again, and this time, you were the one in control.

But as you sat back at your desk, your heart still pounding, one thought lingered in the back of your mind: This is far from over.

[daisyblog]

would you write for niall?

Yes I definitely would! If this is something you’d like, let me know✨🫶🏼🤍

[narrycherries]

ivy: how’s one to know..

Harry is just an ass and she’s just a stranger.

masterlist // ivy series

word count: 8.6k

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, harry x fem oc, angst

[before you start: i edited this bc i ended up giving her name back to her, it’s no longer (y/n) but of course feel free to read it however you want and change the descriptors to whatever you prefer!]

The holiday season had wrapped up a handful of days ago and things were slowly starting to go back to normal. The sparkling strings of lights decorating neighborhoods and businesses all around the city were being taken down and shoved back in their storage boxes until the last month of the year circled around again. The weather was staying consistent, though. The gloomy overcast skies and chilly wind that whipped through the streets were enough to keep people bundled up and wishing for spring to arrive.

Most people she knew enjoyed the holidays a lot more than she did. Sure, she loved to see the colorful lights lining roofs and windows of boutiques and restaurants along the main strip. There was something so juvenile, so innocent about the giddy feeling that would fill her stomach as she saw a pile of fake presents and a decorated tree in a shop window. Somewhere deep down inside of her heart, she still had that spark that a child would have.

When she was growing up, she sought happiness during the holidays by admiring other people’s outdoor decorations or gazing in awe at the displays put up in her schools. She didn’t have what most people had that she went to school with, but she tried to be grateful, even as a young chlid, and appreciate what surrounded her.

A strong sadness was building in her chest as she slid the ceramic Santa Claus into his box to pack him away with the other Christmas decorations. She thought about the many years she questioned if Santa was real. There were so many nights when she’d squeeze her eyes shut and whisper out loud, her knees on the floor as she put her elbows into the mattress. There was so much hope in her. She believed that if she wished and prayed and dreamed enough, Santa would leave a present or two on the coffee table next to her dad’s stained coffee mug. There wasn’t a tree most of the years of her childhood, but her dad give gift her things (there was no magical Santa though). There were no twinkling lights outside of her window, hanging down from the roof with a clumsy droop. There were no ornaments to place on the branches of a fake tree, lined with a dusty skirt that would be covered with presents. There were no fresh baked cookies and steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The television never displayed joyful Christmas movies and specials. The radio on the kitchen counter never once sang a tune of a wintery song about snow and ice. No, none of that. It was just her dad, her brother, and herself for a while.

“Did you keep the box for this guy?” Emma’s curious voice snapped her from her trance.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her spot on the living room rug. Her ‘new’ roommate was holding a ceramic snowman who’s decorated style matched the Santa she just put away. She reached into the plastic storage container and grabbed the box, passing it up to Emma.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, Ivy.” She smiled back, noticing that there was a glimmer of disappoint on her face, but she didn’t mention it to her. “You didn’t have to put everything away so fast. I would’ve been fine with it for a few more weeks.”

Emma had just moved in before Christmas. Her things were half way unpacked throughout the small house they now shared.

“I didn’t want it to crowd you. Besides, Christmas is over.” Ivy’s tone was partially rough as she began to pack away the miniature houses placed across the console table that the television hung above.

“I’m so excited to actually be here, like, full time. Niall’s a bit upset.. but I told him he’d survive.” She said with a laugh as she started to collect the small figurines that went with the village.

“I’m excited, too. I’m glad you’re actually up for decorating the space and not just.. letting me do it all. My last roommate was not particularly outgoing.” Ivy snickered at the thought, knowing she wouldn’t be missing that person at all. The girl was nice and all, but she was quite boring.

“Oh, totally! I’ve already got some stuff I want to show you in my room. Maybe we could put it out here or something.”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it’s cute.” She shot her friend a grin.

Emma wasn’t a new friend by any means. They met early on while they were both at university. Emma was actually her first partner for a project in one of their biology classes. They met on the third day of class and became friends very quickly. Their chemistry went far beyond the confines of the science lab. Emma was joyful and adventurous and offered Ivy that motivating spark to actually go out and have fun. Not that Ivy couldn’t match Emma’s energy once her veins were filled with alcohol, she just didn’t go out as much.

“Speaking of Niall, I haven’t seen him a while. How’s he doing?”

A proud smile crept to Emma’s lips. “He’s been good. But he’s been super busy with the store.. almost never get to spend time during the actual day with him.”

“But it’s going well, the store, I mean? Like he’s having success?”

Emma nodded. “It’s been great. I told him it would do good around here, especially with the college students. And besides, people are always looking for music lessons. I’m glad he took my advice and decided to offer those through the business.”

Niall was an excellent musician, or so Ivy has been told. She hadn’t actually seen him play anything in person, only through recordings and videos Emma had shown her. She knew Niall was talented, though. He played the guitar and the bass, both of which seemed entirely too complicated in Ivy’s mind. When they started dating last year, Niall was in the midst of finalizing a business plan and opening his music store. Emma told her all about it, including her fears and anxiety about the situation - but only because she was afraid Niall would get so caught up in the store that he would abandon their relationship. Niall ended up not doing that, obviously, and was able to balance everything in his life. He and Emma would be celebrating their one year anniversary on Valentine’s Day - which Ivy thought was particularly sweet and romantic.

“I’m glad everything’s working out.”

The store opened back in the summer, and Ivy had only gone by once to see the place. It was in a part of town she didn’t frequent very often, so the opportunity to casually stroll in was rare. It wasn’t like it was Emma’s store. While she did know Niall well enough to refer to him as a friend, she wasn’t close with him. She was supportive, of course, but not overly involved.

“He’s coming by later to help me put together the dresser. Well.. he’s going to do it for me, not help me.” She snickered as she joined Ivy on the floor to start gently laying the mini figurines in a small cardboard box they knew as home.

“I can make dinner if you’d like. Niall likes that pasta I make, right?”

“Yeah! He actually asked me about that a few weeks ago. He said I have to get your recipe.” She grinned back, rolling her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend’s obsession with food.

“He’s only had it like twice.. but it’s flattering to know I’m such a good chef.” Ivy laughed under her breath. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on putting away the last of the decorations and moving them into the hallway closet. The box fit perfectly in the bottom of the closet. Emma disappeared into her room to continue unboxing her belongings. Ivy was mostly occupied with dusting the wood furniture and wiping down the kitchen. She liked a neat, tidy home and she was very glad to know that Emma did as well. She checked the cabinets to make sure she had the ingredients required for the pasta she’ll be making later on.

Every now and then, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor come from the hallway, presumably from Emma’s room. She would just giggle to herself as Emma’s dramatic cries of curses and sighs would fill the small home. Despite being friends for a handful of years, they had never lived in the same space before. Even while at university when it was mandatory for them to live on campus, they lived in different dorm buildings. Emma was in a sorority and definitely more comfortable with herself than Ivy was. She kept to her small dorm with her roommate, whom she didn’t have anything in common with but she was kind to her. If she were being honest, she thought Emma would try to move in with Niall once her old lease had expired. But, Niall was comfortable where he was in his apartment and he already had a roommate. As much as Emma wanted to live with him, it was just too soon anyway. They tossed around the idea, but Ivy mentioned to her that perhaps she needed to wait, just in case. Niall wasn’t upset with Emma’s decision to move elsewhere, as long as she was in the city close to him. Ivy was also informed that Niall’s roommate wasn’t too keen on letting someone else share their space. She had never met him before, didn’t even know his name, but she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her house to be permanently crowded either. Niall let Emma stay over there a lot, though, but spending the night for the weekend or on a random weekday when it was too late to drive back home was different than staying full time. And of course, Niall was allowed over whenever he wanted and she made that clear to Emma before she signed the lease. As long as he respected their home and didn’t leave a mess behind, he was welcomed.

A gentle sigh slipped past her thick lips as she trailed back to the living room. The open concept of the front of the home meant the living room was attached to the kitchen with no barrier other than the island. She sat down on the end of the couch, the damp kitchen towel she used to wipe down the furniture sat on the side table. She picked it up, along with the framed photo that was next to the pretty gold lamp. The gold of the frame didn’t quite match the lamp, but it was still beautiful to her. The ornate metal that decorated the frame was cold as she carefully rubbed the pads of her fingers over it. She stared at the photograph locked behind the glass, the speed of her heart beating increased only slightly.

The image was of her and her mother when she was around three years old. It was Halloween, she was dressed in a pink dress that was modeled after Princess Aurora, and her hair was curled and a little makeup playfully swept over her features. Her mother was dressed in a Cinderella themed costume, her matching golden blonde hair curled, too, and pinned up. It wasn’t the last holiday they spent together, but it was one of the only ones Ivy remembered. She doubted herself at times about the memory - she was only three and a half, did she actually remember it or was she imagining it? Despite always doubting herself, she knew too well that the memory was burned into her brain. She can remember the smell of the burning iron as her mom curled her hair. She remembers getting tickled by the fluffy makeup brush as a bit was applied to her face just to add to the illusion. She remembers the taste of the mini chocolate bar her mom unwrapped for her in the car in between neighborhoods - the night was full of trick or treating and giggles and squeals. She even remembered the way her mom’s hand carefully adjusted her curls when they got caught in the zip of Ivy’s costume. It was a memory she held dear to her heart, one she prayed she’d never lose. Ivy had always tried her hardest to find things to fill in the void of not having her mother around. But no matter how determined she was, nothing ever seemed to be enough. She found joy in little things, like collecting whatnots and trinkets that reminded her of the ones that littered her house when her mom was alive. She enjoyed searching for squirrels and birds in the park, collecting odd looking rocks during her walks, listening to her favorite songs on repeat, and a plethora of other things. But nothing could really fill the space in her heart.. It was quite a big space, after all.

That evening, after the sun nestled below the horizon and stars littered the dark winter sky, Emma invited Niall over for dinner. It was third day of actually staying here, since she opted to spend two weeks with Niall for Christmas between her parent’s place and his. Ivy was working on preparing the ingridents for the pasta when Niall knocked and was let in with a grinning Emma planting a kiss to his mouth. He laughed and brushed her off, not a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, even though he knew Ivy wasn’t watching.

“Hey, long time no see!” Niall said with a smile as he followed Emma into the kitchen.

Ivy’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Niall. It’s been a while, yeah?”

“I think you guys haven’t seen each other since the day we moved my crap in.” Emma said with a slight unsure tone.

“Your crap that still isn’t unpacked.” Niall sighed as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing on his chest.

Ivy chuckled to herself as Emma began to give him excuses for why her things weren’t put away and in their new spots yet. The list included things like being busy with work, having errands to run, and of course ‘spending all my time with you’ that made Niall smack his lips and give her a sarcastic ‘okay, sure’.

They kept up their banter for a bit while (Y/n) rinsed her hands at the sink. She had finished everything she needed to do before actually cooking the food. When she turned towards them, Niall was peering his eyes into the pot of boiling water, frowning as he saw it was empty.

“She’s making the pasta you said you like.” Emma said as she grabbed his forearm to tug him away from the oven.

“Oh, really? That stuff was so good.” Niall’s eyes shot to Ivy’s. “I want a whole pot of it for my birthday, please and thanks.”

She shook her head in disbelief as a laugh rolled out of her mouth. “Isn’t your birthday in September?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t want ya to forget.”

“C’mon, let's start with the dresser, Niall. Let Ivy cook.” Emma said after checking the time on her phone. “We’ll clean up the kitchen after dinner, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when it's done.”

And just like that, she was alone in the kitchen again. It didn’t bother her to be alone, she had been for most of her life, especially her late teenage and adult years. Finding something to occupy her bored mind was not a new task for her to learn. She opted for sitting at the small dining table after setting the timer on the oven in case she forgot to check the time.

Ivy pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants and started to maneuver through the notifications that had come through since she last checked. One was a message from a random company that was offering a sale this coming weekend, there were two texts from Niall - the first asking if he needed to bring anything, the second saying Emma told him not to and to just ignore the text - the rest were random notifications from different apps.

Her attention went to her photo app as she scrolled to a few days ago, just a day or so after the New Year began. She went for a walk in the park close by one day during lunch when she had nothing else to do. She snapped a few photos of little random things, like a wild flower that had somehow managed to survive the low temperature, a bird that was perched on top of the black metal fence that lined the park, and a snapshot of the sky with the clouds parting in such a way that made it look like heaven. After having lost so much in life, she learned and forced herself to appreciate the little things that were around. Details of daily life, like the fall of a leaf to the ground or the chirp of a bird in a tree, were almost therapeutic for her.

Dinner didn’t take too long to cook, but the dresser was seeming to take much longer than Emma had expected it to. When Ivy knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in, she grinned as she saw Niall sitting on the floor with his head thrown back and Emma pacing the room with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her once neatly fixed dark hair was messily tied in a bun on the back of her head. The instruction booklet for the dresser was laid out in between Niall’s legs, along with a torn bag of hardwear.

“Food’s ready.” She said with a singsong voice that made Niall pop his head up.

“Finally.” He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Emma’s wrist, tugging her behind him as they followed Ivy down the hall and towards the kitchen.

“Eat as much as you want, I made plenty.” She said as she let them make a bowl first.

“Don’t have to tell him twice.” Emma’s mouth shaped to a smile as Niall practically pushed her aside to be first.

“Guests eat first, right?” He joked as he gave them both a quick glance, a smirk on his face as he grabbed the serving utensil.

Once the three of them had fixed what they wanted and claimed a spot at the table, Ivy offered to grab everyone something to drink. Emma and herself chose a glass of ice water while Niall requested a Coke. Emma had just brought home a box this morning after her quick run to the grocery store. The food appeared to be a big hit as Niall scarfed it down, spitting out compliments and satisfied hums that made the girls giggle and roll their eyes jokingly at him.

“Em told me the store is doing great.”

Niall nodded as he sipped his drink. “Yeah, it’s been good, actually. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you do the lessons. I told her that people are coming in pretty much all day long.” Emma said.

“Yeah, if it’s not someone who’s into music already or just curiously out shopping.. The sign about the lessons really brings people in. And even if they don’t go through with it, they end up looking around and finding something.” Niall told them with a pleased smile, he was relieved his business was staying crowded and people actually enjoyed coming to the store.

“Did you end up finding someone to teach the guitar lessons? I know Emma said something about you were looking for someone else, since you got so busy with your bookings.”

“Yeah, my roommate actually. He’s decent at guitar and he’s just working with the beginners. I’m sticking to the people who sorta know how to play around that just wanna get better.”

Ivy nodded as she took another bite. “That’s good.”

The cooking had made the kitchen a bit warmer than it was before, so she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. The exposure of the small tattoo on the inside of Ivy’s elbow caught Emma’s eye.

“Oh!” She chirped suddenly, making Niall flinch. “I forgot to tell you, Ivy, I’m getting a tattoo in a few weeks. Already got my appointment.”

“Oh, really? Where at this time?” Ivy asked with genuine curiosity.

“On my foot. Just a cute little flower. Niall says it's going to hurt.”

Ivy squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Niall chuckled. “No, but I’ve been told the foot is terrible.”

“I’m not a baby, Niall. It’s not my first one. Besides, Zayn said it would be fine since I’m used to the feeling.”

“Zayn is lying to you to spare your feelings and get your money. He is my friend, I think I'd know when he lies.” Niall was only teasing her, but it brought a flush to Emma’s cheeks.

“Shut up.” She mumbled through a pout.

Ivy was amused by their interaction, but she chose to move on with the conversation so Emma wouldn’t get too sensitive. She wasn’t over emotional or anything, but sometimes she would get embarrassed if Niall playfully taunted her in front of other people.

“Zayn.. is that the guy I met that time at the bar?” Ivy couldn’t remember the person’s name, but she was sort of sure that it was the same person they’re referring to.

Niall nodded to her. “Yeah. The one with all the tattoos.. I would say the one with the black hair but right now it’s platinum blonde.” The lift of Niall’s brows made her think that maybe he didn’t approve of the look, but he had no choice but to accept it.

“I thought that was the same guy. I’m pretty sure he told me he owned a shop.”

“He’s the best around.” Emma said with a laugh. “Plus.. he gives me a discount.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Niall puckered his lips and leaned her direction, demanding a kiss that he knew he wouldn’t get.

“Hush.” She pushed her fingers to his mouth and gently shoved his head back.

He laughed at her reaction. “Just saying, Em. He’s my friend.. like I said before.”

Emma ignored him and turned her eyes to Ivy. “Anyway, Niall can’t come with me.. so I was going to see if you wanted to go.”

“I can see if I can.. just let me know the date and time.”

“Alright. I will. Niall, don’t be a pig.” She groaned as she saw he had slipped from the table and was at the stove, piling his bowl full again.

“Let him eat it. That way we won’t have to worry about leftovers.”

Emma shook her head. “He’d eat the actual house if you’d let him.”

—•—

Ivy was puckering her lips in the mirror of the car visor as she applied her lip balm. It was chilly outside and the weather wasn’t being kind to her skin at all. She huffed as she saw the patch of dry skin right in the middle of her forehead. She had just applied her moisturizer before they loaded in the car to drive to the tattoo shop. Emma was driving, and every now and then she’d glance Ivy’s way and notice she was still staring in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asked as Ivy slid the cover over the mirror and flipped the visor up, her back hitting the seat as she felt defeated.

“My skin is horrible right now.” She rolled her eyes to herself, upset that it was bothering her this much. It was just a bit of dry skin and chapped lips, she shouldn’t be so affected by it.. but she was. “Even my lips are dying.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure lots of people are struggling right now. I’ve got a dry spot on my cheek. It’s been there for a few days. Just the weather.”

“But it's annoying. Y’know my hormones are whacky sometimes.. feel like as soon as I get it under control, I break out or have something like this happen.”

“When we get home, we can look up some different products. Maybe we can find something better for seasonal dryness. My cream isn’t working either.”

Ivy shrugged and took out her phone to mindlessly look through one of her social media apps. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the shop wasn’t too far from where they lived, Emma didn’t want to walk in the cold and she didn’t want to have to cover the tattoo with thick, tight shoes afterwards. So, Ivy agreed to drive back after they left, and after they grabbed some food. The shop was right around the corner, and it caught Ivy’s attention as they turned onto the street. It was just off the main road of the downtown area. The street was lined with different restaurants, stores, thrifting spots, boutiques, and a few law firm offices and an emergency clinic that stayed open during the weekend. She was familiar with the area, and had actually looked towards the tattoo shop’s sign plenty of times. They pulled into a spot and Emma took in a deep breath before pulling the keys out.

“Are you nervous?” Ivy said with an amused grin plastered over her lips as she opened the car door.

“What if Niall’s right? What if it hurts real bad?”

“You’ll be fine. You got one on your ribs and your spine. You can take it.”

Emma was still nervous as she followed Ivy to the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing Emma to slip into the building first. It was warm in the small lobby of the tattoo shop. She was unfamiliar with the specific shop, but not the reality of one. It looked like the others she had been to and the place she got her tattoos done at. The walls were dark grey and decorated with interesting pieces of artwork and posters. There were rock band posters, most of which she recognized, on the wall behind the dark wood desk that acted as a check in counter. Nobody was at the counter, though. There was a small sleek, black leather couch pressed against the side wall, above it hung a large canvas with what appeared to be an original artwork painted on to it. She saw the signature in the lower left corner and smiled as she read over the name she had heard Niall use a few weeks ago during dinner. So this Zayn character was more than just a tattoo artist? She was intrigued by the brush work on the canvas, the beauty of the image was breathtaking. The muted colors stood out oddly bold against the stark white and midnight black areas. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Although she didn’t partake in any form of art herself, she was an admirer. She enjoyed frequenting art galleries and museums and contributing to artists as much as she could. She once got a commissioned painting of a bouquet of flowers from an older woman in the area who was a somewhat known artist. The piece lives on the wall near the hall closet.

“Zayn?” Emma called out suddenly as she grew impatient with standing in the middle of the lobby.

Ivy sighed to herself as Emma disappeared through a door. It lead to the main tattoo room, with three different stations placed in it. The back room was Zayn’s private room that his clients were able to be secluded in. Emma knocked on that closed door and waited patiently. A few moments later, Zayn opened the door with a smile, happy to see her.

“Hi, Em.” He said, his accent thick as it rang through the small building.

Ivy heard them chatting, so she decided to peek through the door, a nervous smile on her face. Zayn’s eyes caught hers as he towered over Emma. He offered a friendly wave and gestured for her to join them. She nervously stepped over the threshold and swallowed gently.

“Zayn, do you remember Ivy? You guys met a while back.” Emma said with a gesture of her hand as Ivy approached them.

Immediately, she recognized his features - from his dark eyes to his nearly fully inked arms. His tattooed sleeves wrapped over his shoulders, around his neck, crept over each wrist and wiggled around his fingers. He was covered, to say the least. She could only presume the rest of him looked like that. Colorful tattoos mixed with jet black ones littered his skin. And she noticed, of course, that his hair was blond now like Niall had mentioned.

“I think so, yeah. You’re the chick Niall said could outdrink me, right?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“I don’t drink that much.. but yeah, that’s me.”

Emma gave her a nudge of her elbow. “She can out drink anyone when she actually lets loose.”

Her eyes rolled as a smile toyed on her lips, still slick from the lip balm. “Yeah yeah.”

“Let me get my chair cleaned off and you ladies can come back here.” Zayn said just as he grabbed the knob to his private room.

They heard something hit the floor and then a shuffle of shoes moving against the tile. Emma furrowed her brows and gave Zayn a curious look.

“Someone in there?”

“Yeah, I just finished a piece.”

He opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind him again. Ivy turned towards Emma and gave her a smile, unsure of what to do next. Emma grabbed her hand and nodded towards the open lobby door.

“We can wait in here.”

They returned to the lobby, where Ivy was easily distracted by the art on the walls again. There was a print of a skull near the door. It had flowers pouring over the crown of it, which then melted to puddles as they hit the imaginary ground. She thought it was interesting and quite cool. From what she could tell about Zayn’s vibe, it fit it well. The music playing from the speakers in the ceiling was loud enough to be heard but not too invasive. She could tell it was a curated playlist going, because the song that just begun seemed to be sung by the same person as the one before.

“Zayn just texted me.. he said we can come back.”

“I thought someone was-“ Ivy stopped speaking the second a body appeared in the doorway. “Oh.”

“Hey, Harry.” Emma said with a friendly tone as she stood up, motioning for Ivy to follow her.

“Hey, Emma.” The stranger replied with a quick lift of one corner of his mouth.

Ivy was slightly confused because it obviously appeared that the two knew each other. She had never heard Emma refer to anyone by the name of Harry, at least not that she could recall. She licked her lips and let her eyes fall down his tall, broad frame.

“What did you get?” Emma asked with her usual curious voice.

Ivy was listening, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by the appearance of the person in front of them. He was tall, much taller than Niall but probably close to Zayn’s height. He looked like a sky scraper standing in front of Emma and herself, both of which were shorter than average. His long, dark hair shaped into curls that were messily laying on his shoulders. He suddenly swept his hand through his roots the second she realized he had such long hair. The motion caused the lights above them to ricochet off the rings covering his fingers.

“This.” He said as he extended his right arm to them, well mainly to Emma.

There was a freshly inked snake curling around his forearm, each scale placed perfectly on his tanned skin. There were remenents of blood speckled across his skin, and a deep redness that hazed over the entire tattoo.

“Wow! That’s so good.” Emma beamed at the delicate work.

“Yeah, took two sessions. Zayn got a bit tired last time.” He smirked gently at the girl he knew, completely ignoring the one he didn’t.

“Well, it was cool seeing you! Are you headed home?”

He shook his head. “Gonna sit here for a while. I’ve got to be at the store in an hour to help Niall.”

She checked the time. “Yeah, he said he was the only one closing tonight.”

“Emma?” Zayn called from the back room, his head looking around the doorframe searching for her.

“Coming!” She hollered back, taking one last look at Harry’s freshly inked arm. “It was good seeing you. If you leave before I get out of here, I’ll see you later.”

Ivy didn’t even realize she was tracing her eyes over his body. His arms were like tree trunks, muscles taut under his skin and veins popping out, rolling around as he moved. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of dark jeans, she could tell through the fabric that they were toned as well. It wasn’t until he suddenly walked past her, not even sparing her a glance, that she realized she had been standing frozen.

Emma started towards the back room, Ivy in tow as she felt an embarrassed blush cover her cheeks. She didn’t know this Harry guy, but she hoped she wasn’t staring too hard at him. It definitely wasnt polite to just stare at a stranger, especially when she was blanking out. What if she was making a face at him? Something nasty, or something rude looking? She was unsure, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t seem bothered by anything as he took a spot on the couch.

Zayn’s office was just as she expected it to be. It was a deep shade of green, the walls coated in framed prints and a few smaller canvases of what she figured was his work. There was a small accent chair placed in the corner for guests. She sat down and started darting her eyes around the room. The type of work that Zayn had pinned to a board on the back wall caught her eye. He seemed to be good at everything, but most of it was bold color work or extremely detailed realism, sort of like the snake she saw on Harry’s arm moments ago. She wondered if Zayn had given himself any of his own tattoos or if he went to someone else. Surely, not every place on his body was accessible by his own hands, but maybe some of them were done by him. She felt like an amateur compared to him. She had a few tattoos placed on her body, but nothing quite as big or detailed as what she saw on the board or on Zayn’s skin.

“Ivy is your new house mate, right?” Zayn asked Emma as she got comfortable on the chair.

“Yeah. I moved in before Christmas.”

“But.. you’ve known each other for a while, right? I can’t exactly remember.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, since we were in college together.”

“Zayn.. do you mind if I look through this?” Ivy asked politely as she picked up the small binder off the console table next to the chair. A few figurines of characters she recognized, an hour glass with black sand, and a plant lived on the table as well.

“Of course not, that’s why it’s there.” He gave her a chuckle, but kept his response nice.

She opened the book and started to slowly flick through the pages. She saw his signature on the bottom of the designs. They were all so perfect. Some were executed with such detail and precision that she could've sworn they were fake, others were more loose drawn in a free handed style or just more whimsical in nature. She saw a sketch of a few bees on one of the pages. They were in black and grey, mostly realistic with subtle, soft shading and delicate lines. The drawing was pretty and neat. She glanced to the corner, searching for his signature, but she didn’t find it. Instead, in the corner opposite of where Zayn favored to sign his name was a small H. She hummed to herself, curious to know why Zayn had someone else’s drawing in his book. She quickly shook the thought out and reminded herself that there three other stations in the front. They were not abandoned by any means, she could tell people worked at them based on the different things displayed and the personal trinkets and objects adnoring the areas. Maybe this was one of his college’s work or maybe it was random.

For the most part, the book was filled with things Zayn did. Some of them were his own creations while others were common tattoo designs just drawn by his own hand instead of being pulled from the internet. She liked the way he had a bunch of his own things offered in styles that were more popular. He appeared to be a well versed artist with the talent to create just about anything.

As Zayn prepped Emma’s skin for her tattoo, he was talking to her about Niall’s store. He asked how it was going and if she had heard any horror stories yet of Niall messing up payroll or forgetting to stock an item. She only laughed and said she was surprised he was staying so calm and organized. Everything about the store was going more than according to plan, as at least as much as Ivy could tell from what she’s heard. She was still so happy for Niall. His hobby had turned into a passion and a business and he was able to share it with others, it was like a dream come true she bet.

“Alright, are y’ready?” Zayn said with a deep breath of his own as Emma grew more and more nervous in the chair.

“I think so.”

“You’ll do fine, Em.” Ivy encouraged from the corner, her eyes now focused on her friend.

“Just take some deep breaths. Tell me if it’s too much.” Zayn told her as he pulled the stencil paper off her foot. The flower wasn’t that big, but there were lots of tiny details that Zayn knew would probably hurt her more than anything else she’s gotten. “Just a tattoo.”

“If I cry, you can’t tell Niall. I told him I could handle this.” Emma mumbled out with a frown as she stared at her foot.

Zayn smiled and leaned back, the gun still buzzing in his hand. “Before I start, is it in the spot you want?”

“What do you think? Is it good?” She asked him, twisting her foot to a different pose.

“It’s not my foot, love.”

She groaned and looked over towards Ivy. “Can you check?”

Ivy laughed a little but nodded as she stood up. Just as she was about to step towards them, Emma called for someone else to take a peek at the design.

“Harry? Are you still in there?” Her voice echoed through the room, she hoped that it spilled into the lobby so he could hear her. After a few seconds, she grunted and pulled her phone out to shoot him a text. “I’m so nervous.”

“It looks fine to me.. but it’s your decision.” Zayn told her with a gentle sigh.

Ivy looked down at the placement of the tattoo, her arms behind her back with her hands locked. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

She gave Emma a hopeful smile before turning around. The door opened just as she moved her body, the stranger that wasn’t a stranger to anyone but her, walked in the room, chuckling as he saw Emma fanning her face, the heat swelling her skin with sweat and her eyes with tears - she was nervous.

“You always do this.” Zayn couldn’t resist laughing as Harry walked to them.

Ivy was back in her seat now, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waited for Emma to decide her fate. She could hear snickers coming from Zayn and Harry as they talked about the tattoo and Emma’s apparent hesitation that always came out when she was in Zayn’s chair.

“It’s fine, Emma.” Harry said, giving her a smile before looking to Zayn. “Make sure it hurts.”

“Harry, shut up!” Emma groaned and tried to kick at him. He laughed and took a step back. “You guys are bullies.”

“You’ll be alright, Em. It’s not like it's your first.” Zayn reminded her.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. Go ahead, then. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome.” He said lightly before disappearing out of the door again.

Ivy wondered why he didn’t stay in the room with them. Was he not interesting in hearing the painful grunts Emma would sure be letting out soon or watching Zayn draw his design perfected for Emma into her skin? Maybe he was tired of being near the tattoo gun since he spent however long getting his own. She pushed the thought aside entirely the moment she heard Emma groan, curses falling form her lips but not directly towards anyone.

Zayn leaned over her foot, his fingers pulling her skin tight as he worked the needle into it. It didn’t look like it was much fun, and Ivy became grateful that she had no intention of ever inking anything onto her foot.

—•—

There was a freshness in the air as she looked around Niall’s music store. It smelt like freshly picked lemons, probably because he had just sprayed down the counter before she came in following behind Emma. Niall was in one of his usual band tees and a pair of jeans as he sat on a stool with a guitar resting on his thigh. He was talking with a customer, comparing the similarities of two different guitar brands. Emma found herself busy with the items on the checkout counter - dropping loose pens back into their cup and adjusting the pile of papers Niall had pushed to the side.

Ivy stayed curious as she looked around the store. It was very easy to get caught up in the different items, especially since she had little to no idea what some of the accessories were for. Niall provided more than just items for guitars. She didn’t try to decipher every thing on the shelves, just simply moved her eyes across the packages, curiosity settling in her instead of blurting out questions to Niall. The girls came by to bring him some lunch before they did some grocery shopping for the week. Niall was appreciative, but he was unable to entertainment right away.

Emma smiled as the customer approached the counter, the one Niall had been chatting with. She stepped aside and let Niall take over the register. He had another employee here, but he was in the back room looking for a specific thing they needed to restock on one of the shelves. Ivy waited near by as Niall scanned the guitar music book the customer wanted to get and told him that he’d see him when he returned for the guitar - the customer hadn’t made his decision just yet.

When it was just the three of them at the counter, a few customers were lingering around the store just browsing, Niall gave them both a warm smile before wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll eat it when Josh gets off his break.” He said with a sigh, folding his arms and leaning them on the counter.

“The store is so nice, Niall.” Ivy complimented as she glanced around.

“Thanks.”

Emma walked from behind the counter to where Ivy was standing. She was about to ask her something about their plans for the day when her eyes fell on the few pieces of paper taped to the front edge of the counter. One was the refund policy, one was about the instrument lessons, and the other was new since the last time she was here.

“Oh, a flyer? That’s unusual.” Emma suddenly said as she pressed her finger against the pink dyed paper. “For the show?”

“The show?’’ Ivy asked with a drop of her brows as she read over the words printed in bold black letters.

“Yeah, Niall’s band. They play at a bar across town every couple of weeks.” Emma told her.

Ivy remembered as soon as she heard it. Emma had told her before, long ago when she first started dating Niall, that he was in a cover band. It wasn’t anything serious, not trying to search for record deals or gain stardom, it was just him and his friends having a good time. They got decent money for it, including tips from audiences, and it allowed them to play the instruments each member enjoyed. She wasn’t sure who was in the band as Emma never got to that detail before.

“Oh, right.” She nodded as the memory returned to her brain. “That’s cool.”

“Can’t believe Emma’s never brought you to a show.” Niall said with a somewhat surprised expression.

“I invited her a few times but she’s usually busy with work stuff.” Emma defended herself, even though there was no issue with it.

Ivy smiled at her and shrugged. “I remember you asking a couple times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to attend if you’d like.” Niall offered as he pushed himself off the counter the moment the bell jingled above the entrance door.

He went to greet the customer, someone he actually was used to seeing come in the store, leaving the girls alone again.

“Yeah, it would be fun if you came! You could finally meet Alyssa. She’s usually just home with her and Zayn’s kid.. she doesn’t go out much anymore, but she loves the shows.” Emma exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye.

“I dunno.. when is it?” She asked, glancing at the flyer.

“Next Saturday night. It would be cool, Ivy! We haven’t went out since Halloween.”

The stress building up at work during the holidays definitely set her back from enjoying a lot of things, including several invitations from Emma to join her and Niall at a bar or go out for dinner with just the two of them. It truly felt like forever since she got to have fun with her friend. She thought about it for a moment, but only lifted her shoulder at the idea. The mention of meeting Zayn’s fiancé was intriguing since she had heard so much about her from Emma, but she doubted that would be enough to pull her out for the night.

“Maybe.. depends on how the week goes.”

Emma gave her a partial smile. “Okay. I really hope you can go with me.”

“Yeah, you should definitely come, Ivy.” Niall said as he appeared next to them, the customer gone to look for the item they asked him about.

Once again, she let out a small sigh and faked a smile for them. “I said I’ll see how the week goes, but no promises.”

He gave her a fake, dramatic frown. “C’mon! Live a little!”

“I live a lot.. at work.”

Emma grabbed her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll convince you before the week ends.”

“M’sure you will, Em.”

After spending a few more minutes talking to Niall, and then waiting in the car as he and Emma disappeared into his office to say a private goodbye, Ivy was ready to get the grocery shopping over with. The store they frequented was near by, so the drive was short and easy. It wasn’t close to their shared house, but the prices were better than anywhere else. Emma offered to take her car, so that left Ivy in the passenger seat with her eyes glued to whatever passed by the window.

“Are you okay, Ivy?” Emma asked as they strolled through the fruit section in search for the items on their list.

She gulped gently, distracting herself by collecting a few apples for the cart. “M’fine, just tired.”

Emma watched as she walked towards the basket of lemons and grabbed two, she’d need them for a receipe she was going to try later in the week. Ivy was normally not this quiet. She enjoyed the task of grabbing their groceries and checking things off their combined list while Emma pushed the cart and double checked everything. Something about doing such a mundane thing made her feel content and comfortable, even if they decided randomly to try a new store they’d never been in. But today was different, Emma was growing concerned with her unusually quiet friend.

“If you’re irritated with me and Niall pushing you about the show.. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.” Emma said with a soft frown as Ivy returned to the cart with a handful of bananas.

She sat them down and lifted her hesitant gaze to meet her closest friend’s. “I’m fine, Emma. Just tired.”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“You and Niall didn’t bother me, I swear. The bar thing is.. whatever. I’ll think about it, I promise. It’s just.. one of those days.”

Emma wasn’t believing it all the way. Sure, maybe Ivy was being truthful about the role her and Niall played in her newfound mood, or didn’t play - but something else was up. She licked her lips and decided to stay quiet as Ivy busied herself with grabbing the rest of the fruits before moving onto the fresh vegetables.

Although she didn’t want to press it any further, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened at the music shop or on the way to the grocery store. Her worry was growing quickly and it wasn’t very long before she was asking another question.

“Ivy, please tell me. Are you alright?”

She received a sigh as a response, a couple of tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots joined the cart. “Emma, please.. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong with you. I don’t want to see you so down.”

Ivy walked towards the next section of the store, knowing that Emma would follow her with the cart no matter if they were talking or not. She held her breath as she thought about what was bothering her. She was too caught up with her racing mind to realize she was actually expressing her emotions on the outside. Emma noticed everything, so clearly she wasn't doing well at hiding it. There was no real issue, really, nothing that anyone caused by saying or doing anything. A lump slid down her throat, Emma was her friend - there was no need to keep anything from her.

Just as they turned down the aisle where the bread was, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the cart, her hand reaching out to stop it. Emma froze, a lift of her brows offering confidence like a good friend should.

“The guy that walked through the door right before we left.. at Niall’s store..” She started with a strong voice, but it slowly faded to almost a whisper.

Emma nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked down to the floor as the moment replayed in her memory. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to experience, in fact it was more common than not. One little thing, one random glance from a passerby, one glimpse of someone with a similar shade of hair as her own, one note from a list of songs she knew were special..

“He reminded me of my brother. I.. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her response made Emma’s stomach turn to knots. She knew that the conversation was over then, and there wasn’t anything else she could try that would break Ivy. The forbidden topic had been brought up, and quickly dropped back to the vault she kept it locked away in. Emma didn’t mention it again..

[a/n: this is a series! It’s a lot longer per part than my other stuff so I hope you enjoy! This is just the intro so it will be more interesting and exciting as it goes on! reblog, like, do all that lovely stuff!!] ** I did change this from y/n to an actual character but feel free to read her name as whatever you’d like

taglist: (notified for all // if you want to join a taglist for this series, lmk in a comment or message and I’ll start one)

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden

[justmeinatree]

05 - Woke Up Still Dreaming

Summary : Part 5 to Let Passion Get Too Much … niall x louis x reader threesome

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, choking, double penetration, spitting, spanking, subspace

Word Count : 7k

A/N : this chapter takes place hours after THIS EXTRA - it’s not absolutely necessary to read although it may answer a few questions as to how their relationship seemed to jump so quickly !

GIFs : unknown - msg for credit

louis isn’t sure the exact thing that woke him up. whether it be the soft pecks of your lips against his, or the quiet, melodic calling of his name, or your nails gently scratching at his scalp. what ever it was, he couldn’t complain in the slightest. 

that is, until he cracks his eyes open, the soft golden glow of early morning streaming through niall’s sheer white curtains. it was much too early. too fucking early for people that didn’t get to sleep until sometime past 4am. “time s’it, love,” louis croaks, his eyes fluttering shut again.

a small giggle leaves your lips, a happy, playful, sweetness to it, one that’s reserved for those early hours, one that louis is tucking away as a core memory because it was just so damn cute. “just about 7am,” you whisper, pecking over his bottom lip again.

“christ, darling, ya couldn’t wait a bit ?” he groans quietly, his hands scrubbing at his eyes, almost painfully, pulling himself from sleep.

“i really hope you like morning sex,” you murmur, nibbling against his lip now, pulling his mouth open just enough for your tongue to slip through, and lick against his own, pulling a quiet breathy moan from him.

“you have full permission to smack me if i ever turn down an offer from you,” he hums, as you throw your thigh over his waist, his hands falling on your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“you’re sappy in the morning,” you giggle, breathing against his lips, before dipping back in for more kisses. 

he breathes a laugh against your lips, letting himself get lost in the kiss, his hands exploring your body, finding that you’d stripped down your pants at some point, currently only wearing panties and a thin tank top. 

one hand rounds down your hip, over your bum, and up your thigh to your knee, holding your leg in place over his hips, his other hand settled right on your ass, squeezing.

you groan, shuffling impossibly closer to him, in search of any sort of friction. “and you’re needy in the morning,” louis hums, trying to hold you down, trying to wake up, trying to keep up. but his brain was always a little fuzzy with you, and well he’s barely slept, and throw in last night’s admissions, and your cunt is dangerously close to finding out that he’s already quite hard. and really, he just needs to breathe.

“c’mon, darling, slow down,” louis whispers against your lips, “we have all the time in the world,” he adds, hoping that the prospect of lengthy, lazy, slow early morning sex would win you over. 

but instead, he’s met with a disgruntled groan, and a shake of your head, teeth sinking into the plushness of his bottom lip, “m’already going slow,” you speak, actions contradicting your words as your hips grind down again, harder, a bit faster, your clit colliding with the hard tip of his prick.

a smirk pulls at your lips, shaking your head again, although more playfully this time, pulling away from his mouth to lock eyes with him, a silent conversation between the two of you. 

and a moment later, your thigh was off his hips, your hands on the waistband of his pants, pulling them clean off his legs, boxers following suit just as quickly. in your rush to get onto him, you’d almost forgotten your panties, something you’re thankful that louis catches. his hands fall delicately on your hips, thumbs tickling your skin, still making any sort of effort to slow you down, even if just a little bit.

louis slowly glides his hands, fingers splayed out, selfishly trying to touch as much of you as possible, bringing your thin panties down your legs in the process. he notices the tremor run through your body, following his hands, an eruption of goosebumps left behind in their wake. he watches the sticky line of your arousal still attached from your pussy to your panties, thinning out the more he pulls them down. he feels like he’s looking at someone almost ethereal, with the way the golden glimmer of morning sun makes your skin glow, makes your arousal glisten, it takes his breath away. he really doesn’t think he’s ever been this lucky.

as soon as your panties were off, you threw yourself onto him, louis landing back onto the mattress with a soft thud, your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him, elbows supporting yourself on the mattress, above louis’ shoulders, your hands buried in his hair. 

instantly, your lips are back on his, grinding yourself down over his bare length. your cunt was soaked, slit spread over his cock, gliding effortlessly with every roll of your hips.

your fingers were wrapped tightly into louis’ hair, gripping at the roots, his nails leaving deep indents in the skin of your hips, as a particular roll of your hips made the tip of his cock press up into your clit one moment, getting caught on your entrance the next. 

neither of you were quite sure how it happened, especially without the use of hands, but louis’ hips had lifted clean off the bed, taking you along with him, cock pressed snuggly against you, and with your pussy absolutely drenched, his length painfully hard, the angle just right, he was sinking inside you.

your mouth falls open, breath knocked clean out of your lungs, forehead falling forward onto louis’, eyes rolled back as you struggle to catch your breath. 

a soft groan grumbles deep in his chest, his hands pressing into your hips, holding you, trapping you down onto him, his prick seethed deep inside you, not letting you move an inch. he could feel you splitting open for him, could feel you spasming around his cock, could feel you desperately trying to move. and if he let you, he was instantly going to cum. and he was not about to let that happen. not when he’d just gotten you back onto him. 

in an effort to distract himself, one of his hands leaves you, blindly swatting in the space occupied by niall, eventually colliding with his head, leaving a series of small smacks.

but he’s met with nothing more than an annoyed grumble from niall, and a few laughable swats back in his sleepy state. louis rolls his eyes, gripping hard into niall’s hair, giving a sharp tug.

“fuckin hell,” niall quips, “what do you wan-“ he cuts himself off as he finally turns his head, eyes peaking open, taking in the scene in front of him, a soft, sleepy, sighing chuckle escaping his lips.

“one of those mornings, pet ?” niall murmurs, every bit of malice in his tone completely wiped away, giving louis the impression that morning sex is clearly a definite regular occurence. 

niall’s fingertips reach out for your arm, gliding up and down softly, soothingly. you whimper against louis’ lips, nodding your head to niall’s question, your pussy clenching particularly hard at the tickling smoothness of his fingers on your warmed skin. louis lets out a whimpery moan, one he couldn’t hold in, even if he’d tried, the grip on his prick so unexpected, his teeth biting into your lip.

niall eyes the both of you, unable to see your hips under the blanket, his eyes settling on you, “y’already sitting on him, petal ?” he asks softly, hooking his finger under your chin, making louis’ teeth slip from its grip on your lip, forcing you to look up at him.

“mhmm,” you nod, as best you can with a finger holding your chin, feeling the soft press of niall’s lips against the tip of your nose, breathing quietly, “really missed him didn’t you ?”

you were nodding again, tilting your head back to reach for niall’s lips, his falling on yours effortlessly. almost like the pull of magnets. his large hand falls on your jaw, thumb spread out to rub on the apple of your cheek, right below your eye, his pinky splayed out on your neck.

he takes his time enjoying the kiss, before pulling away from you slightly, eyes flicking over to louis, nodding his head for him to lift himself from the mattress, which he does swiftly, connecting their lips as well. 

you watch them take a moment for themselves, niall’s hand holding louis from the nape of his neck, before pulling away, and sitting himself back on his calves. you and louis could both see that he had a plan working in his brain, one that you were both about to question when you feel the press of niall’s hand against the middle of your back, forcing you and louis back into your original position. and then, he disappears under the blankets. 

you were left more confused, until niall grips onto louis’ hands, placing them on your bum, his fingers reaching down to where your ass met your thighs, niall making him grip into you, spreading you open. 

the next thing louis is made aware of, is a loud moan breathed onto his lips, your cunt spasming around him, “christ, what’s he doing to you, darling ?”

but you couldn’t answer, your head was spinning, niall’s tongue flicking hard against your hole, exposed to him thanks to louis’ grip. and just as quickly as he’d started, he was pulling away. you whined, stuffing your face into louis’ neck, noting the breath leaving him, his head tipping back, breathy “oh fuck,” leaving his parted lips as his back curls slightly. your eyebrows furrow, lifting your head from the comfort of louis’ neck, giving him a questioning glance, “what’s he doing ?”

“he’s got-“ louis starts, cutting himself off, niall giving a particularly hard suck around the testicle sitting in his mouth. louis is panting, his head absolutely swimming, the feeling intensifying when niall’s hands join louis’ on your lower bum, forcing you to start riding him. slowly. so fucking slowly. he felt borderline delirious, and he fucking loved it. christ, maybe he was going to regret wanting things slow. 

the way louis’ cock was rolling into you, the way it was so fucking smooth, the way it felt like he was impaling you, his tip pressing into your sweet spot deliciously, steadily, heavily. your brain was flying, body trembling from the languid strokes of his dick along your inner walls, unable to move much more than what niall was controlling.

niall pops off louis, flattening his tongue, timing his actions just as he makes you slowly rise, thrusts still deliriously paced, taking a long lick from the base of louis’ cock, up to your hole, flicking your ring of muscles again.

both you and louis moan out loudly, his fingers digging into your bum harder, your face picking itself up from the comforts of his neck to smash your lips against his, panting against his mouth. you were a whimpery, whiny, trembling mess. louis struggling not to buck up hard into you, fighting within himself since the scene was just so fucking good as is. 

it’s a rhythm niall’s taken an obvious liking to, his tongue working in tandem with the thrusts he was implementing, licking up louis’ cock just as you pull up, tongue falling onto your sensitive hole as you sit back down on louis’ prick. 

he was losing his fucking mind. louis was sure of it. he’s not sure he’s ever felt such, such- christ even he’s not so sure there’s a word for it. but it’s got his toes curling, and his fingers gripping, and his back arching, and his head tipping back, even his fucking eyes were rolling. 

and niall noticed. was not about to let this happen so soon. not when he was enjoying this so fucking much. loved all the noises he was able to pull from the two of you. loved all the body tremors. the pure neediness seeping out of the both of you. 

so on the next lift of your hips, niall pulls you clean off louis’ prick, hearing the sharp inhale from you, and the loudly desperate groan from louis, his fingers almost ripping at your skin. your nails dug deep into louis’ scalp, cunt clenching over nothing, a small spurt of liquid squirting from your pussy, getting both louis’ cock and niall’s face.

niall never, in a million years, thought he’d be lunging mouth first at someone’s cock, but he guesses life is meant to surprise you. watching louis’ length dripping with both your arousal and your squirt was all he needed for his brain to go blank, and for his body to take over without thought. 

his mouth sinks down on louis’ dick, as best he can considering he’s never done anything remotely close to this before, sucking up as much of your taste as he can, revelling in the heady, musty mix of louis’ flavour. 

one of louis’ hands shoots out to grip niall’s hair, tugging hard, “fuckin christ, this isn’t gonna stop me cumming, mate.”

niall breathes a chuckle as he slides off of louis’ prick, “know i love to taste, can’t help myself,” he hums, feigning innocence, taking a few more licks and another bob of his mouth for good measure. and with his eyes zeroed in on your dripping entrance, he helps himself to a quick lap of his tongue, before sliding louis’ cock back inside you. 

you moan out loud, your face falling into louis’ neck again, mouthing at his stubbly jaw, his head tipping back to give you more access. he was panting, his hand leaving niall’s hair, falling back onto your bum.

niall catches the small twitches in louis’ fingers, the restlessness of his legs, somehow understanding exactly what he’s silently asking, niall tapping his fingers against the back of louis’ hand, something they both seem to understand. like a code they’ve never even discussed.

and so louis’ hand leaves the swell of your ass, landing a hard smack, your mouth instantly falling open, breath knocked clear from your lungs, your body curling up slightly, as best as it could in the position you were being held in. 

it seemed to calm louis a bit, the edge taken off, as he fights to release. to hold off. to fucking anything. “kiss me, darling, please” he breathes, trying to reach your mouth, needing something to tether himself to, especially since niall’s started the languid lapping of his tongue again. up and down and up and down, a rhythmic flow that’s driving him absolutely mental, timed with the trusts, and fucking hell he’s never felt so prickly, so tingly, so god damn heated. 

you were trying to kiss him, trying to suckle at his lips, but your jaw kept slacking on its own accord, the kiss somehow turning into more of a panting in each other’s mouths, and you think you were revelling in it. both of you were. in the intimacy of random pecks wherever they may land, sharing breath, sharing moans, and then louis was itching again. needed to do something. needed, needed.

he doesn’t know what kind of primal reaction came over him, he doesn’t even know if his brain was in on it, but your mouth was hanging open, and it was right fucking there, and he just needed to have some kind of control. some kind of something.

the next thing he knew, his head was lifting just slightly to have a more direct angle at you. your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to how he even has the power to lift his head at the moment. that is until his eyes locked on your mouth, spit flying onto your tongue. 

your eyes flutter shut, whimpery moan breathed out, pulling his head closer to yours, foreheads resting together. you swallow quickly, panting quietly, “again,” your jaw slacking, tongue sticking out, another dribble of saliva smacking onto your tongue. and you were cumming.

louis’ eyes roll back, his body falling onto the mattress, fingernails dug so deep into your ass, the clench of your orgasm so tight. too tight. fuck, he can’t. he’s not sure this was exactly his plan, but his grip was so rough, he pulled you clean off of him, another rush of liquid gushing from you. 

and when louis feels it splashing over his prick, he can’t help but cum as well.

niall’s eyes go wide, mouth falling on louis’ prick instantly, sucking and swallowing down every spurt enthusiastically. he’s really always loved to taste. 

louis moans loudly, back arching, lifting you with him, his hands finally leaving your poor bruised bum, gliding up your back, holding you to him tightly, hips lifting in a quick thrust, tip hitting the back of niall’s throat. 

the gagging. fuck, it’s so tight around his prick again. from your clenching cunt to niall’s spasming throat. louis is seriously going to lose his mind. very soon. he needed to calm down, needed to ground himself somehow. christ, he felt like he was high. high on nothing but the two of you.

niall pops off louis’ cock, taking another smooth lick at your weepy cunt, before wiggling his way out of the blankets, taking in the state of both of you since he’d started his ministrations. 

he’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t quite this level of fucked out for the both of you. a smirk can’t help but pull at his lips, almost proud of himself for being able to render you both into a puddle of goo in the middle of his bed. a scene he’ll definitely store under lock and key, the golden streams of sunlight filtering through his billowing curtains, the window cracked from last night. goosebumps littering both you and louis, the glimmering rays making you both glisten with sweat, chests panting, eyes heavy. he’s never seen something so beautiful.

he reaches out to run his fingertips along your exposed back, up and over louis’ arm, to his shoulder. “feeling good ?” he murmurs quietly, the moment feeling incredibly soft, not wanting to disrupt the fairly soundless moment. 

louis smiles, his head rolling heavily towards niall, nodding, breathing out a “yeah,” his eyes shining. fucking shining at him. and niall thinks his heart actually bursts.

and then he catches the soft crinkles by your eyes, telltale sign that you were smiling, something he could tell even if your face was mostly hidden in louis’ shoulder. that is, until you raise your head to properly look at niall, and god fucking christ, he’s not sure what he’s done to have his two favourite people look at him like he’s actually hung each star in the sky, one by one, just for them, but he’s soaking this moment in. has to. his eyes flicking from yours to louis’, drinking you both in. 

he leans down on his elbow, laying sideways next to the both of you, pecking oh so gently over your lips, revelling in the softness of the moment. niall spends a moment getting lost in your mouth, before turning his attention to a very patient louis, landing a deep, slow kiss to his lips as well. 

it’s when niall stretches a bit to go from your mouth to louis’, that his rock hard prick bumps into your hip, and you realize how neglected his cock must feel.

you sit yourself up, your bum rested against louis’ thighs, looking down at niall’s tented boxers. you bite your lip when you note the wet patch, dribbles of precum staining a small spot right at his tip. he looked painfully hard. so much so, that you really feel bad for him. 

niall pulls away from louis when he’s noticed that you’ve shifted, both of them looking over at you questioningly. that is, until louis notes that you’re staring right at the tent in niall’s briefs, “we’re not done,” he chuckles, taking a long look himself, before smirking up at niall.

“can take a break if ya need,” niall hums, “both look tired.”

but there’s some sort of awakening, some sort of adrenaline running through your veins, as you and louis lock eyes with a mischievous glint in your gazes. so louis decides to follow niall’s lead from earlier, landing his hand in the middle of his chest, making niall lay back onto the bed, stripping him of his boxers, spreading his thighs open wide.

you and louis get yourselves situated between niall’s legs, louis going in for the first lick, his tongue flat, almost slightly wrapped around niall’s girth, stroking its way up his shaft, flicking over the tip. 

the moment louis’ tongue lost contact with niall’s cock, your tongue was on him, doing the same thing louis was, taking a long lick from base to tip. 

you kept trading off, treating niall’s prick like a popsicle, licking up the dribbles on a hot summer day, swirling around, sucking along, nipping lightly, flicking expertly. and niall was losing himself. not just in the feel, but in the opportunity to watch the both of you between his legs, watch you both licking over his length like you were fuckin starved for it. it had him panting, groaning, whining, toes curling, struggling to keep his eyes from falling, not wanting to miss a single second, reaching down to grip each of you, tugging on your roots.

“fuckin luckiest guy in the world,” he breathes quietly, more to himself, but it doesn’t go unnoticed to either of you, louis’ gaze flicking up to niall’s with a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“let me have a minute, love ?” louis murmurs, gaze returned to you, having a silent conversation, something he was getting good at with both you and niall, assuming the inclined physical and emotional contact having a hand in the matter. 

he waits until your tongue’s flicked over niall’s tip, his mouth opening wide and sliding down his length, throat giving way effortlessly until his nose is pressed tight around niall’s lower belly. 

“fuckin hell,” niall hisses, his grasp on louis’ hair tightening exponentially, back curling, panting along with the sucking of his mouth, the stroking of his tongue, the constricting of his throat. 

louis lets himself enjoy a few bobs of his head, pulling off niall’s cock, watching you lick up the mix of spit and dribbles of precum, dripping their way down his shaft.

“can’t tell me it’s your first time,” niall breathes a chuckle, blinking back to reality as he catches his breath, enjoying the soft licks you were providing as a way to calm himself a bit. 

“no idea what you were missing on bus one, mate,” louis laughs, his breath hitting niall’s prick, making a shiver run through him.

“wha-“ niall’s head shoots up to look at louis properly, watch him take a few licks himself, “never told me that, ya fucker. you and-“ he’s cut off by louis’ hand smacking over his mouth, with a shake of his head, a small smile pulling at his lips, “s’like 8 lifetimes ago, ni. just glad the practice paid off,” he giggles, pulling his hand away, joining you again. 

niall hums quietly, letting his head fall back, letting himself get lost in the feel of both of you again. the scene in front of him was like one from a dream. the best fucking dream he’s ever had. it’s an image he’d never get tired of, that he knows for sure. his prick standing tall, tongues fighting for a chance to stroke him impossibly harder, mouths falling onto him, sucking his cock down. he was in heaven, he was sure of it. he’d never felt better, more satiated, more powerful, more blessed. 

hell, there was even something about just watching the two of you, the connection you both seemed to have, the little glances you’d steal, the way your tongues would mend together whenever the opportunity arises.

even the moments where you and louis would get a little too lost in each other, tongues too busy stroking over one another, sucking on each other, had niall in a chokehold. it made his heart burst in ways he could never explain. almost like something clicking in his brain. like adding louis to the mix somehow made everything even better. christ, he never thought it could get better, it was already perfect. he doesn’t quite know what’s better than perfect, but he’s sure he’s standing in it right now.

but the more he was watching, the more his skin began prickling, itching for more. he was heated, held on the edge of blissful pleasure, never quite enough to bring him right to where he was so desperately craving. 

“petal,” niall whispers, his fingers leaving your hair to stroke down the side of your face, down your cheek to your jaw, giving a little rub along your chin to really grab your attention.

when your gaze flicks from louis’ to look up at niall, you can see it. see the desperation seeping out of him. it also seemed like the moment that your brain kicked in, noting that he’s been getting increasingly fidgety, something that made you crawl up his body, letting louis take the reigns again, his mouth sinking down on niall’s length.

“what’s wrong, ni ?” you hum softly, nose bumping against his, as he gasps, louis obviously taking great care of him as you check in.

his mouth closes around your bottom lip, whimpering quietly, nipping at your skin, “how are you feeling, love ?” he questions breathily, holding you tightly against him. 

and you knew exactly what he wanted, what he was truly asking with that question, something that made your lips quirk up into a smile, nodding happily. you knew he wanted your cunt, wanted to check that you were okay to do so. wanted to be wrapped by your smooth inner walls, tight and absolutely drenched, just for him. “want to, want you,” you clarify, pressing your body closer to his, tongues mingling together, a loud groan echoing in your mouth, shooting straight down to your pussy, silently thanking louis and whatever he was doing.

“c’mere you,” niall mumbles, tugging on louis’ hair, growing ever more desperate for more. just fucking more. he’s kept the pace slow all this time, and although morning sex usually screams this type of momentum, he’s fucking breaking.

with a loud, wet pop, louis’ mouth leaves niall’s dick, coming up to press a chaste kiss to niall’s jaw as he lays next to him, “feeling good there nialler ?” 

“too good,” niall laughs softly, “need mo-“ he cuts himself off with a hiss, feeling your pussy open up and slide right down his length, hands shooting out to grip your hips bruisingly. “fucking hell, pet,” he gasps, back arching off the bed, “warn a lad, will ya ?”

he’s met with nothing more than a giggle from you, followed by a satisfied hum, biting on your bottom lip, hips starting to grind back and forth, forward and backwards.

niall groans loudly, his eyes fluttering shut, helping you keep up the rhythm you’ve created, “that’s it, pretty girl. fuck, that’s it,” he mewls, breathing deeply, almost purring as he does so. the spasming of your cunt, squeezing his cock tightly, almost sucking him in, dripping down his thighs with your arousal, it was enough to send niall spinning. this is exactly what he’d been waiting for.

watching your head tip back, your jaw slack, feeling his prick bob heavily back and forth inside you, pressing into your sweet spot with every rut of your hips, sensitive little button grinding over his lower abdomen, you were blissed out as well. you could feel both of their eyes on you, brain too fuzzy to really care, your hips keeping up their rhythm, panting into the air, hands gripped into niall’s forearms.

his head slowly turns to the side, eyes blinking up at louis, “c’mon, don’t be shy.”

louis’ not sure he’s ever seen niall look quite so fucked out. his eyes were heavy, breathing shallowed, muscles jittering. a stark contrast for the lad that usually has everything under control. and you. fuck, you were like something right out of a movie. you were glowing in the morning light, face tipped back in pure ecstasy, beads of sweat running down in the valley of your breasts. he was in awe of you. both of you. plus, he’s always been fascinated by your connection…

“s’it weird if i just watch for a bit ?” he finds himself asking, figuring if there’s anyone he knows that won’t look at him like he’s actually a sick fuck, it’s the two of you. and it’s not that sick really, is the frustrating part, but anyways.

thankfully, he’s met with a large smile spreading across your face, niall’s breath hitching, groaning, “think she likes that idea,” having felt the clench of your cunt at the mere thought of a spectator. 

“yeah ?” louis coos, tongue darting out for a quick lick between your breasts, unable to help himself at a little taste of you again. 

“mhmm,” you shudder, a shiver running through your body, niall’s grip on you tightening, pussy trembling on him, in time with your tremors. 

“and what about you ?” louis asks, turning his attention to niall, face hovering a bit over his, looking over his features.

“just don’t want you feeling weird about any of it,” niall whispers, wanting to check in on him. he knows how jealous louis can get, and he’s been kicking himself for not checking on him more. he’s not going to let it happen again. with one hand leaving your hip, his fingertips gently stroke over louis’ forearm in comfort.

but louis’ shaking his head, and leaning down to peck at niall’s lips, “i want this, want to see how strong you two are, how fucking hot you two are without me,” he chuckles, “seriously, just wanna see how it is, what it is i’m striving for with you guys.”

and niall thinks for a moment, that something’s clicked in louis’ brain as well. without much of a second thought beyond that, his fingers are leaving louis’ arm, reaching out for his jaw, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

you watch them interact, feeling the twitches in niall’s hips as you notice louis’ tongue stroking his, notice the flutters in niall’s stomach muscles as louis grips his hair tighter. hear the little grunts leaving louis’ chest as niall sucks on his tongue. fuck, it was getting you off. 

niall could feel it, could feel the telltale way your cunt started clenching. instantly his mouth was pulled away from louis’, hand darting out for your throat, fingers pressing into your skin tightly, “don’t you fucking dare.”

your eyes open wide, fixated on niall’s, as you start panting, trying to calm yourself. you were already going fuzzy, but with the sheer command in niall’s voice, the lack of oxygen to your brain, the complete exhaustion of a sleepless night, your mind was floating, skin was prickling, and you needed to do as he said. another option didn’t seem to exist at the moment.

your hips stilled, as you focus on breathing, body trembling, muscles twitching, slowly regulating yourself, pushing your orgasm at bay, eyes locked on niall’s the entire time, like a form of pure grounding, one that could calm you right down, no matter how commanding the tone was. 

“s’a good girl,” he praises, smiling at you, fingers loosening their grip, index stroking the column of your throat, “such a fuckin good girl,” he coos quietly.

louis was once again, absolutely rock hard, cock standing tall, and christ, he’s only been watching you two for a couple of minutes. he’d never seen something so god damn hot. he’s watched his fair share of porn, but nothing came close to being privy to this.  

niall could tell the moment your eyes opened, the moment the shift happened, with his hand wrapped around your throat, could tell how far you were floating. he pushes himself up into a sitting position, pecking along the side of your neck, your jaw, your ear, murmuring, “m’gonna take over, pet. can you give me a colour ?”

he was patient about it, coaxing an answer out of you with every delicate kiss, until he heard the breathy, satiated, comfortable puff, “green.”

and there was the shift in niall, quickly pulling you off your comfortable seat that is his prick, positioning you like a rag doll. your pliancy in these moments was something niall was always grateful for, folding you over so that your face and chest were pressed into the mattress, lifting your hips high into the air.

instantly, his cock was nestled back into you, making you gasp loudly, arms stretching out above you, hands gripped tightly into the sheets, tugging as niall’s hips pull back slowly, impaling you the next moment, feeling his dick so fucking deep inside you. he does it a few more times, before picking up the pace, hands holding onto your hips to keep you in place.

your ears were ringing so loudly, you weren’t all too sure what sounds were coming out of you, nor did you have half the mind to care, but if you focus enough, you can pick up your whiny moans, and breathy gasps. your face was being pressed into the sheets below you, niall’s palms pressed into the swell of your ass, fingers gripping, using it as a hold on you, hips held in place.

“left some marks, tommo,” niall grunts between thrusts, your bum pulled up by his hold, splatter of bruises all over the underside of your cheeks, a mix of fingerprints and scratches littering your skin.

louis turns over on the bed, feet now aimed up above your head, laying on his side, supported by his elbow, peeking over and noticing the dark blue and purple pattern, bright red, slightly raised scratches. he’s not sure how to feel. his hand reaches out instinctually, fingertips delicately lining up with some of the bruises, almost as if needing to confirm for himself that it was, indeed, his own hand. 

he feels the pure hot heat coming off of your skin, making him flinch lightly, pulling his hand away, “fuck, m’sorry, darling. did i hurt you ?”

but he’s met with nothing more than niall’s hand falling on his shoulder, shaking his head, “ask her that later,” he groans, biting his lip, your cunt squeezing him like a vice, “she- fuck, she can’t answer that right now.”

it’s moments like these that louis’ learned to make a solid mental note about. he’s learning. learning you. how to be with you, how to care for you, how to grow the bond. 

“she’s fine though,” niall fills in, swatting fairly hard, right where louis left the worst of the bruises, a loud guttural groan punctured from your lungs, grip in the sheets tightening, nails close to ripping through the fabric. your chest presses harder against the bed, bum lifting on its own accord, in an effort to search for more, pushing itself into niall’s hand, almost obediently so.

niall chuckles breathily, biting his lip for a moment as he takes a deep breath through his nose, “fuckin perfect girl,” he curses, landing another spank, on the same side, over the same spot. 

you mewled, your back arching impossibly more, surely a move that would cause you pain later, right as another quick smack falls on your bum, this time on the other side. a move that makes you almost purr, legs trembling, one of your hands pulling down, tucking your arm under your face in comfort, elbow bumping into louis on the way.

it’s the first time you realize he’s so close, eyes blinking open, noting his thighs, his prick fairly close to your face, still watching where niall’s cock is disappearing inside you. without much thought, your mouth opens, taking his tip in your mouth, tongue swirling.

louis gasps loudly, a quick moan following his initial shock, niall’s eyes opening and falling on your mouth, wrapped around louis’ cock. niall quickly lands a hard smack against your ass, your jaw slackening, wailing around louis’ length.

“did i fuckin tell you to do that ?” niall growls, watching you instantly slide off his shaft, mouth leaving with a pop, and a small whine.

he reaches down, grasping your hair, pulling you up onto your knees, back pressed to his chest, head falling to his shoulder. it was too heavy for you to hold up anyway. 

niall’s arms wrap themselves around you, tucking his face against your shoulder, holding you tightly to him, hands grasping your breasts, your hips, your arms, unable to get enough of you, taking a moment to drink you in. he takes a big breath in your neck, leaving a series of pecks, eyes flicking over to meet louis’, “c’mere.”

and louis can see it in his eyes, sees that the scene is about to come to an end, something he’s always cued from niall, something he just seems to know, always. so louis slides himself under the two of you, his cock so painfully hard, standing tall right below your entrance, hands falling onto your thighs, silently letting you know that he’s right there too.

one of your hands leaves it’s grip in niall’s arm, falling to grip onto louis’ hand. when louis’ eyes flick to your entwined fingers, he swears he can almost see your tummy jumping softly in time with niall’s thrusts. 

with your hand in his, he slides over to that spot on your lower abdomen, his palm pressed to the back of your hand, and you could both feel it, feel the steady bomp, bomp, bomp of niall’s cock. it sent your mind reeling even more, something so fucking intimate about feeling someone inside you like that.

“fuck, fuck,” niall groans loudly, feeling your cunt squeeze down on him, orgasm rippling through you, the grip on him bringing on his own high quickly. too quickly. niall was not ready. he pulls you off of his prick, mid-high, pussy spasming around nothing, strong gush leaving your centre.

just as quickly as you’re pulled off of niall’s cock, you were being seated on louis’, a loud groan leaving him, your still cumming cunt sucking him in, constricting around him tightly. the move makes you fall forward, hands landing on either side of louis’ head, forehead dipped to his, panting against his mouth, jaw slacked open, still trembling from your high without any time to recover.

niall’s panting, holding off his high, hand delicately falling on your back, “colour, pet,” he whispers, his other hand against louis’ thigh, silent warning not to move yet. no matter how hard it may be. and then, there it was, the hushed breath, “green.”

louis’ hips instantly buck into you, feet planted on the mattress, hips picking up right where niall had left off, a blinding pace, something that louis was silently grateful for. the slowness he was searching for, however many hours ago, had been long satiated. 

the harsh pace, switched up angle of louis being below you, you could feel the warmth spreading from your belly to your extremities, prickling, tingly heat, and for a moment, you’re not even sure your last orgasm even really finished as this one starts to come on.

a drawn-out groan from louis, tightening grip of his fingertips into your hip, was all niall needed to know that you were cumming again, wailing mewl leaving the both of you as he pulls you off of louis’ cock, too fast for louis to quite get where he wanted to be, feet kicking out in frustration. a long spurt of liquid gushed from you again, barely having time to finish before niall’s cock glides right into you, sharp gasp coming from niall’s lungs.

he grips you from your throat, lifting you up to rest against him again, niall a panting mess against your shoulder. he reaches over your hip, lining up louis’ cock with your entrance, alongside his, “colour,” he sighs, trying to catch his breath, trying to hold himself back, but fuck your cunt was absolutely screaming at him, squeezing him, sucking on him. fuck.

“green.”

louis bucks up immediately, your cunt so fucking soaked, he had no issues sliding right in, stuffed deep alongside niall, all three of you with your jaws slackened, panting, mewling, gasping, whining, fuck no one was really sure anymore. and then when niall’s hand tightens around your throat, your pussy clenches hard, a sob leaving your lips as you tremble through another orgasm, constant stream of clear liquid leaving you, milking their orgasms with the squeezing of your centre.

niall’s hold on you tightens as he comes down from his high, pecking delicately over your shoulder, murmuring loud enough for louis to head, “we’re gonna pull out, petal. get you cozy, perfect girl.”

and you assume they do just that, as by the time that you float back to proper consciousness, you were sandwiched between them, their hands gently stroking your skin, both taking turns telling you how perfect you are, how much they love you, how happy they are with all of you here together. it was sweet, it was soft, it was filled with kisses and sweet licks. you could feel the warmth of the day lulling you back, the sunlight having shifted long ago from the early morning glow, to the mid morning brightness. 

you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering open, niall smiling up at you, noting the telltale puff of air, “hello beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, not wanting to startle you. he’s met with a beautifully soft, content smile, and a ruffle of his hair. louis smiling at you as well, offering a small, lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

with your return to the real world, the promise that you were okay, comfortably placed between them, the sleepiness returns quickly, adrenaline of the moment having worn off. nobody’s sure who it was that nodded off first, but the gentle rubs were dwindling down to nothing, all of your limbs touching in some way, tangled together, in a soothing pile on niall’s bed, louis breathing out quietly, “m’definitely gonna get used to this.”

Part 6

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tags : @cc-horan28 @acesofspadess @slutforcoffein @blondedmgc @daphnesutton