#njh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buck-nialled · 2 years

Text

Bedhead - N. Horan Imagine

NOTE: more niall fluff! woot woot! also a swear word, maybe two? yeah, definitley two.

TAGLIST: NEW TAGLIST FORM HAS BEEN CREATED, CLICK HERE TO FILL IT OUT!

SUMMARY: you spend the night and niall’s house for the first time. bedhead and thoughts of the future ensue...

When Niall offered the invitation to spend the night at his flat yesterday, it wasn’t a surprising request. With your hectic schedules clashing the past couple of weeks, meeting for lunch on your work break or squeezing into his studio for a couple of minutes wasn’t cutting it. It was turning you feral to go a day without seeing him, especially because these are days you should be cherishing with him before his next tour begins.

And Niall?

Niall was itching just as much to get his daily dose of your laugh, and special hug you only give him, and delicious cooking that never fails to linger on his taste buds like each kiss you press to his lips. He finally sent you the fateful text offering you to come over later and not leave till morning in the midst of trying to write a stubborn chorus. Each time his mind traveled away from possible lyrics and instead imagined how your workday was treating you, his pencil would slide hopelessly off of the paper of his journal. Needless to say, working on the song came to be fruitless since he hasn’t felt the presence of his muse—you, always you—for some time.

As soon as his phone chimed with your response—can I bring my own blanket? I’m picky—Niall was bustling out of the building to straighten up his place before your visit. It was impossible to wipe the growing smile from his face, his mom would be proud to see him grinning like mad whilst hanging up clothes he’d been neglecting and vacuuming his rug. By the time he hand washed the final plate speckled with remnants of last night’s dinner, the doorbell rang.

It was quite a talent, how the man could walk out and sing to sold-out venues packed with thousands of strangers. But when his favorite human alerted their presence at his front door, he lost footing on his venture there and felt knots tightening in his stomach. As soon as the door swung ajar and he saw you standing there, already adorned in sweats and a throw blanket in hand, the knots faded. All the nerves from earlier weren’t as prominent and when you brought him in for his special hug, he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate the tight embrace for a second.

He sucks in a sharp breath, inhaling your shampoo that always gets him wobbly in the knees. “Gods, I’ve missed you.” He admits as you dig your nose into the crook of his neck.

“That’s a relief because I’ve also missed you,” your mumble is near incoherent with your lips pressed below his ear, but with your proximity, he makes out most of it. “Umm…” when you two finally separate, you raise your Sherpa throw to be in his view. “You never replied to my text, but I brought it anyway.”

“Of course, lover. That’s fine. Come on in, I was just about to start dinner.” You trailed behind him inside, already bundling yourself with the blanket.

“Oh, you’re cooking?” Niall eyes you suspiciously at the inquiry, not that you had much reason to be judgemental of his average culinary skill.

“Did you have something else in mind?” You wiggle your body in the midst of climbing up onto his kitchen island. Carefully, he approaches you, humming for an answer to his question.

“Would it be selfish of me to ask for a cheat day from you? We can order Nando’s and watch that new true-crime documentary—“ you gasp as Niall’s lips collide with yours instantaneously. You relish in the feeling of the smooth pair gliding with yours like a well-rehearsed dance.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a fuck yes.” Niall corrects, before reattaching his lips with yours.

Halfway through your chicken bowl and the true-crime documentary you swore you would stay awake until the end for—-despite your extensive workday—Niall found you in a deep slumber against his chest and blanketed with your throw and his arm. As soon as he discovered you snoozing, he made it his mission to pause the documentary so you would not miss anything, and escort you to his bed. In his endeavor to be unnoticed when picking you up and laying you on his duvet, you still stirred awake to find him swearing under his breath and trying to exit.

“Where are you going?” You ask lowly, barely making out his figure in the dim light.

“Heading to the couch, you need a good night's sleep.”

“Not without you.” Niall turns his attention back to your half-lidded stare and desperate pout. “Come here.” You plead, lifting the covers and scooting over to make a spot for him beside you. With this née invitation, Niall wasted no time shedding his sweatpants and old band t-shirt before shuffling beside you. You turn to face one another, admiring what you could in the minimal light.

Out of curiosity, you whisper. “Who do you think is gonna have the worst bedhead tomorrow?”

“Definitley me.” He snorts, roping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You’re underestimating me then, petal. My roots have a mind of their own.” He argues.

“Just wait till the morning, you’ll be regretting those words.” Your slur causes a smirk to climb onto Niall’s face and has him now imagining what he might wake up to. He simply leaves you with a murmur of, “g’night lover” and a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before allowing himself to fully sink into his mattress.

Out of all the images he dreamt of last night depicting what your “bedhead” might consist of, the last thing Niall expected to wake up to was cold sheets and a pillow tucked beneath his arm. The genius you were, disguised it with your throw blanket to radiate the scent of you and lull Niall back to sleep in case he stirred. After willing himself out of bed and emerging into the kitchen, he discovered you at his table built for two with last night’s leftovers and the daily newsprint in your hand.

Once spotting him still bare-chested with his unruly hair matted somewhat to his forehead, you spoke in between bites of your chicken. “Oh good, you’re up. What’s a five-letter word meaning…score of one over par on any hole?”

Niall could only muster a chuckle, as he admired the golden light peeking through the windows–allowing you to bask in it like a goddess. He languidly approaches the table to bend down and press a chaste kiss to your lips. “That’s a bogey, love.” Your eyes continuously flickered back up to his as you filled in the crossword with the proper term. Niall felt drowned in serotonin by the sight of you in his house, at his table, with no motivation to do anything but finish the daily crossword and keep him company. However, when his eyes traveled up to perceive your hair tied up and out of view, he felt…betrayed.

“Oi…what’s all that for?” His accent, still thick and raspy from sleep, interrogated you as he twirled a finger around his head.

“What? My bun?” Your pupils glanced up, though it did not aid you in seeing the messy up-do you attempted earlier in the morning. “It’s keeping my hair out of my face.”

“Uh-uh. Unacceptable.” Niall shook his head firmly while softly planting a fist on the table.

“Excuse me?” you inquired with a teasing smile.

“Last night, you promised me bedhead. Even said I’ll be regretting my words after I said I’d have the worst.” You recall last night clearly and nod your head through his explanation.

“That I did…”

“Well, I held up my end of the bargain.” He states, going as far as to “flip” some imaginary locks over his shoulders. “Now it’s your turn.”

With a sigh, you relinquish your hair from the elastic-band trap you planted earlier and allowed the locks to fall and frame your face wildly. Some pieces were knotted and awaiting service from a good brush, others were sticking wildly about in every direction. And despite the grease in your roots and sight of dead ends severely in need of a trim, you and Niall couldn’t help but grin at one another.

“Well?” Niall scoffs.

“Wow…you were right. The worst bedhead.” He confirms, admiring the silky strands.

“Told you.” You giggle, returning your gaze to the next crossword clue while Niall continues to admire your hair. And as he finally takes a seat across from you, stealing bites of your leftovers while you aren’t looking, and looking forward to the future where there will hopefully be more mornings with the daily crossword, and you correcting him with your beadhead, and more Nando’s sat between you–he also thinks about the spare key stowed away in his bedside drawer. He thinks of how good it would look next to your car keys, or next to his own set of keys on the table by his front door.

But he’s already asked to see your bedhead. And you both agreed to take things slow from the start. So, all he will have to do is wait a few more mornings.

“What are you staring at me for?” Shyly, you bringh the newspaper up to shield most of your face. With your eyes still peering over the paper, you observe Niall’s reddening cheeks. I guess now works too, he thinks to himself before drawinhg a deep breath.

“Will you move in with me?” You ponder his question for a few moments, leaving space for a noticable tension to fill the room. Niall can feel his muscles tightening as you slowly fold the newspaper up and place it gently on the table, before sitting up from your seat. Niall gulps, fearing the worst until you are grappling his shoulders across the table to meet you in the middle for a searing kiss.

“Is that a yes?” He beckons in between several more kisses. You shudder beneath his lips, ones you never wanted to spend another morning without.

“It’s a fuck yes.”

#niall horan #niall james horan #nh #njh #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan imagine #niall horan imagines #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan angst #niall horan oneshot #niall horan story #niall horan au #niall horan x reader #niall horan x you #niall horan x y/n

1K notes · View notes