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tobeafangirl · 2 days ago

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this one right here is for the soul sisters

if you’re taking requests!! niall x reader smut oral (m receiving) would be sooo hot 🤭 keep up the fantastic work

Jealousy, Jealousy

honestly the filthiest thing i've written, you're welcome 😘

Synopsis: at a charity gala, everyone's eyes are on you, and Niall doesn't like it one bit. Lucky for you, you know just how to remind him you're all his... Tags: established relationship, jealous!Niall x Reader, smut, softdom!Niall, oral (m!receiving), mid-care (or that's what I call it ig) and aftercare Words: 1.9k CW: smut, gagging, minor choking/breathplay (non-kink), tears/overstimulation, possessive behavior

A/N: big thanks to anon for suggesting this, its new territory for me but I had a blast writing it! i hope it lives up to expectations! feel free to like, reblog, comment, tell me what you think!

18+ / NSFW content!!! Reader's discretion is advised!

Taglist: @pawmpkinnn @lndlvnvdsjl @little-things-larry @illicitloves @tobeafangirl @andraslife @moonshine1d @proudravenclawbird @take-a-cchonce @xaansthings @twpk-1d @kateluvshaz click here to join my taglist!

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The event was gorgeous.

It’s not often you get to join Niall in red-carpet charity events, but this one was a beautiful gala, and he was given a plus one, so of course he was gonna take you.

He’s regretting that choice now, though. Not because of you. Because of everyone else.

You looked stunning. Some gorgeous designer dress from a brand you’ve been obsessed with lately. It hugged your form perfectly, showing off your features that genuinely made you look like a goddess. But Niall wasn’t the only one who noticed.

The whole time, he swears, everyone was staring at you. Whenever they’d be in a group, talking with people he vaguely knew, he noticed lots of their gazes landing on you too often. And no, he wasn’t just imagining it. Every time someone looked at you, his hand tightened its hold on your waist, pulling you in just a bit closer.

You noticed. Of course you did. The way his jaw clenched often throughout the night, his grip on your waist, the way he seemed to always be touching some part of you. Yeah, he can be possessive, but usually not to this extent.

It was kinda hot.

The car ride home was almost deafeningly silent. You could sense something stirring behind Niall’s eyes. He drove you two straight home, eyes locked on the road, his hand still on your thigh, like even now you’re alone, he still needs to be touching you.

When you pull into the driveway, the car is parked, turned off, and Niall is already out of the car before you can even process that you’ve arrived. You quickly unbuckle as he’s already at your door, still opening it up for you and helping you out like a gentleman, but that might just be the last ‘gentleman’ act of the night.

He’s practically pulling you inside the house, and the second the door is shut behind you two, he’s all over you. His hands find your hips, and he quickly presses you into the nearest wall, looking down at you, pupils already blown out.

“I saw all of it. The way everyone was looking at you. Like they had any right to even look in your direction, let alone like that.” He says, his voice low and deep, a bit gravely, hands squeezing your hips a bit. “What gives them the right to do that? Everyone there knows you’re mine, and I didn’t bring you just for them to all gawk at you like some kind of eye-candy.”

You’re caught off-guard and flustered, never having seen him this possessive before. Your eyes are wide, cheeks flushed, staring back up at him.

“Baby, I swear, I didn’t mean to bring attention to myself, it just happened-”

“Don’t even try blaming it on yourself.” He cuts you off, his eyes practically boring into yours. “It was all them. They’re pigs, every one of them. You’re mine.”

Before you can even think of what to say next, his lips are crashing into yours, making sure you know he means what he says. You grab the lapels of his suit jacket, trying to stabilize yourself in the moment, but Niall seems far from stable. One of his hands moves up into your hair, gently holding onto it as his other fingers dig into your waist, pulling you directly into him, where you can already feel a noticeable tent growing in his dress pants.

Oh, he’s really bothered by this. He’s genuinely jealous. And that knowledge gives you just the idea of how to ‘make up’ for it…

Niall was about to start trailing his lips towards your neck, but you beat him to it. He’s confused, but the moment your teeth sink into that sensitive spot on his neck, he moans, hands tightening their grip on you.

“Christ, petal… what’re you doing?” He mumbles, his voice raspy, breathing heavily as you push off his suit jacket and unbutton his dress shirt.

As you work open his shirt, you sink down to your knees, your hands move to the waistline of his dress pants. You look up at him from the floor, all doe-eyed and innocent looking as your hands slide their way down to the button of his dress pants, slowly working them open. “I want to prove to you that I’m all yours, baby. Remind you that only you get to have me at the end of the day.”

You don't pull his pants off yet, waiting for his reaction, but he’s stunned, just staring down at you.

He finally breathes after a moment, reaching down and running a hand through your hair.

“Oh fuckin’ hell, baby… You’ve no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

That’s all the encouragement you need to tell you to keep going. You sweetly smile before letting his dress pants fall and pool at his ankles, leaning in and planting kisses at the waistband of his briefs, nails gently running up and down his legs, giving him goosebumps. When your lips move lower and start mouthing over his bulge, that does him in with a long, desperate groan escaping his lips.

“God, if you keep teasin’ me like this, I fuckin’ swear I won’t be able to hold back.” He mutters, his hand tightening its hold in your hair.

You hum at the sensation, finally hooking your fingers in the elastic of his briefs and pulling them down, his cock springing out, tip already red and leaking precum.

You swear you’ve never wanted anything more.

You don’t waste a second before leaning in, needing to taste him. You run your tongue from his base, up along the underside of his cock, right up to the tip. You flatten your tongue to gather the precum before wrapping your lips around the tip, sucking and swirling your tongue around him in the way you know he likes.

He lets out an almost pathetic, desperate whimper as he watches your ministrations, breathing heavily as he tries to hold himself back. “Fuck yes, just like that, baby… feels so good…”

As much as you love teasing him, you need this as much as he does, and you don’t want to hold back anymore. You lean in more, hands bracing yourself against his thighs as you take in more of him, starting a rhythm of bobbing your head. Your eyes glance up to find his locked on you, moaning again as he takes both of his hands and pulls your hair back.

“That’s it… Taking me so fuckin’ good… You’re all mine, yeah? Only get down on your knees for me…”

You hum around him, the vibration making him groan as he pulls on your hair a bit, starting to guide your head to his own rhythm.

“Such a good girl, letting me do this to you… Look at you, so desperate for me. Desperate to suck on my cock. Christ, I love you..”

He’s practically muttering nonsensical praises and curses, fully lost in the moment. You take control back for a moment and push your head forward, all the way until he’s buried deep in your mouth, his pubes tickling your nose. You sit there, throat constricting due to his size, eyes starting to prickle with tears as you try your hardest not to gag.

“Holy shit, babe-” He chokes out before groaning, deep and low, clearly very affected by you. His eyes are pinched shut, one of his hands leaving your hair to press against the wall behind you, stabilizing himself.

He tries to slowly grind his hips, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat – though that doesn’t last long. You gag around him, needing to finally pull back fully, coughing a bit with spit around your lips, coating his cock as well.

Niall looks down when you start gagging and coughing, immediately focusing on your wellbeing, his hands moving to brush through your hair and cup your cheek.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. Breathe, baby, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, thumb rubbing your cheek as you catch your breath again.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m okay… Maybe pushed myself too far, but I’m okay.” You rasp out when your breathing is back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“No, ‘M sorry, I lost control a bit. Shouldn’t have tried moving.” He says, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can take a break if you need, I’ll get you some water-”

You cut him off by turning your head and kissing his wrist, bringing his attention back to you. “I swear, I’m fine, Ni. Besides, I’m not done with you yet…” You say, a small smirk on your face as your hand moves up and grasps his member, slowly stroking him. He moans softly in response, his grip on your face tightening a fraction.

“J-Jesus, alright… I’ll keep myself under control this time, though. Show me you’re mine, princess.”

You lean in and instead of taking him in right away, you run your lips along his shaft, sucking and kissing occasionally as your hand keeps pumping him, slowly speeding up.

He moans and groans, his eyebrows furrowed as he watches you work him, holding back, but enjoying every second of watching you wreck him, his hands holding your hair out of your face.

You take him fully in your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him off, continuing the pace your hand was pumping him at. You can tell he’s getting close to finishing, the way his grunts are sounding more strained, his grip in your hair tightening, the pure focus on his face.

“Fuck, petal… can’t last much longer… gonna cum… and you’re gonna take it all, yeah? Every last drop…”

You hum in response, eagerly bobbing your head, wanting to push him over the edge and take everything he has to give you.

Niall curses and grunts, unable to hold back from a few small thrusts as he presses his hips forward, moaning your name as he spills inside your mouth. You feel the warm, salty substance pour into the back of your throat, and you happily take it all. Once he’s finished, you slowly pull your head back, your hand taking the place of your mouth and gently working him down as you swallow his seed.

He just looks at you with pure awe and exhaustion, practically panting as he rests his hand on the wall again, holding himself up.

“Baby, c’mere…” He mumbles, reaching with his free hand to pull at your arm so you’d get up off the floor. You chuckle softly and stand up, letting him pull you into his arms. He leans his back against the wall and pulls you flush into him, cradling your head under his chin as his hand rubs up and down your back.

“You’re so good t’me… don’t know what I did to deserve you, but you’re all mine…” He murmurs into your ear, kissing your temple.

“Do you feel a bit better now, baby?” you ask quietly, pulling your head back so you can look up at him.

He looks back at you, his eyes droopy, but a blissed-out, happy smile on his face. “Yeah, you definitely did, love… Even though I still hate those twats. Wanna keep you all to m’self…”He leans in and kisses you softly, still that hint of possessiveness there, but more love than anything else. Now you know just how jealous your boyfriend can really get, but you also know exactly how to remind him that you’re all his.

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#I need him #mom pls

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tobeafangirl · 2 days ago

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Words: 3,575 Rating: M | fluff (more worried Niall, this has a lot of medical jargon in it, my apologies, nothing too crazy in this, nervous/scared y/n) Pairing: Niall Horan x Reader Type: Chapter (2/5?) Taglist: @infinityxlovers @puzio19 @emlovesniallhoran Previous ❀ Masterlist ❀ Requests ❀ Taglist

Dr. Y/L/N was a name whispered with a mixture of respect and awe among the medical community. Her journey to becoming a physician wasn't born out of a fleeting interest, but a deep-seated, almost innate, fascination with the intricate machinery of the human body. From the moment she could understand the rudimentary diagrams in her father’s old medical textbooks, Y/N was hooked. She spent her adolescence devouring every piece of scientific literature she could get her hands on, her nights often illuminated by the glow of a desk lamp as she poured over anatomy charts and physiological processes.

Medical school was a crucible, testing her limits both intellectually and emotionally, but Y/N thrived. She excelled in every rotation, her dedication unwavering, her thirst for knowledge insatiable. The day she walked across that stage, a newly minted physician with a hard-earned medical degree in her hand, was a culmination of years of relentless pursuit, a testament to her unyielding ambition to heal, to make a profound difference in the lives of others. The weight of the Hippocratic Oath settled on her shoulders, not as a burden, but as a solemn, sacred promise she was more than ready to uphold.

So, why did she feel so bad? She had been putting herself out there her whole life, she was beginning to wonder if she ever thought about pumping the brakes for a moment. Take a break, enjoy the little things in life, but alas, that was something that had never crossed her mind and it wasn’t going to stop now. Because the things she filled her life with, she loved. The books, the learning, even the slight stress. It kept her going, putting a smile on her face. Always staying professional in her line of work.

Her professional life, however, was about to intersect with a vibrant, unexpected chapter of her personal life. It happened during a particularly frenetic shift in the emergency room, the kind where the air buzzed with urgency and every second felt like a race against time. A cascade of minor injuries and illnesses had flooded the department, and amidst the organized chaos, a rather disheveled, but undeniably charming, doctor came in to help her with consulting with a patient.

It was Niall. He was a whirlwind of easy smiles and self-deprecating humor. While in his white coat nonetheless. Their initial exchange, a blend of professional assessment and genuine banter, sparked an immediate, almost palpable, connection. They shared a few laughs, a brief respite from the demanding reality of the ER. By the time Niall was done with helping her identify some needed tests, he had, with a surprising amount of boldness, asked for her number. To Y/N’s own astonishment, she found herself not only giving it to him but feeling a flutter of anticipation.

Their first date, surprisingly low-key given their high-octane professions, was a revelation. A quiet dinner, away from the sterile hum of the hospital, allowed for an easy, flowing conversation that lasted for hours. The spark was undeniable, a vibrant current that promised something truly special. Soon after, they became inseparable, their lives weaving together in a comfortable, supportive rhythm. Niall, with an understanding that only someone truly empathetic could possess, he understood because it was his lifestyle as well. He never questioned her long hours or the emotional toll her work often took. He became her anchor, her safe harbor in the relentless storm of her medical career, a welcome escape from the often-heavy realities of life and death that permeated the hospital corridors and in turn, she became his.

Yet, despite her unwavering commitment to her patients, Y/N had recently found herself increasingly concerned with the alarming signals her own body was sending. It began subtly, an insidious creep of discomfort that she, ever the pragmatist, initially dismissed as the inevitable consequence of an exhausting schedule. A dull, persistent ache in her chest after a particularly grueling night shift was easily attributed to fatigue, a minor protest from an overworked heart.

But then, the symptoms escalated, becoming more insistent, harder to ignore. High fevers, sudden and unannounced, would sweep over her, leaving her shivering violently. Her muscles aching with a profound weakness that belied her usual resilience. Breathing, once an unconscious, effortless act, had become a conscious struggle, especially when she was navigating the stairwells of the hospital or rushing between critical patients. Each breath felt like an uphill battle, a shallow, unsatisfactory gasp for air.

Then there was the dizziness – a terrifying, disorienting lurch that would send the world spinning into a dizzying kaleidoscope of blurred colors and uncertain ground. It was more than just lightheadedness; it was a profound sense of instability. A visceral reminder that something was profoundly, alarmingly wrong. Every medical fiber of her being, every diagnostic instinct honed through years of training, screamed at her to acknowledge the truth.

She knew the signs, she understood the implications, but an ironclad stubbornness, a deeply ingrained professional pride, prevented her from admitting her vulnerability. She was Dr. Y/L/N, the healer, the one who fixed others, she couldn't possibly be the one who was sick, the one who needed fixing. To acknowledge her own illness felt like a betrayal of her identity, a failure of the very principles she lived by.

The façade, however, was destined to crack. The breaking point arrived during a routine, albeit emotionally charged, consultation. Y/N was explaining a complex diagnosis to a worried family, her voice steady and reassuring, when the familiar sensation of vertigo washed over her with a devastating intensity. The room began to tilt, the faces of the family blurring into indistinct shapes. Her words caught in her throat, a silent scream of alarm trapped within her own failing body.

The next sensation was the hard, cold floor against her cheek, and then, as she blinked her eyes open slowly, Niall’s face swam into her vision, his features etched with a mixture of fear and urgent concern. She didn’t know how long she had fainted. Maybe a few minutes? The family around her looked panicked as well but her focus was on Niall. Oh, this wasn’t good.

His voice, usually so gentle and melodic, was uncharacteristically firm, cutting through the lingering haze of unconsciousness. "Y/N," he said, his eyes unwavering, "that’s it. No more arguments. We’re getting labs done. Now." And in that moment, stripped of her professional armor, her stubbornness finally shattered by the undeniable reality of her collapsing body, Y/N didn't argue. She simply nodded, a silent surrender to the truth she had so fiercely resisted.

She stood with Niall's help, a nervous chuckle left her as she turned her attention back on the family in the room. “My apologies, it seems I’ve overdone myself today.” She tried to play it off and it was a good effort, but her eyes were sunken and if she didn’t have a headache before, she did now. She excused herself with Niall and quickly went to her attending to let them know someone needed to cover her rounds momentarily while Niall ran a few tests on her.

Niall stayed by her side the whole time, refusing to leave for even a moment. She felt like he would even follow her into the restroom at this moment, just to make sure she was okay. He also remained silent, and if you knew Niall, well, he didn’t do that often. Niall loved to talk. He could have a proper conversation with a wall if someone let him, she could tell this was eating him up more than her.

“Come on.” Niall finally spoke as he placed his hand on her lower back and led her to one of the empty patient rooms where Harry was standing waiting. Niall must have texted him. She paused at the door when she saw him with an EKG monitor waiting. Harry and her got along just fine. In fact, she admired the level of work Harry did. Takes a lot to work with trauma patients, have to be on call and yet he was always professional. A man of few words but you listened when he spoke.

“Alright, let’s get you hooked up.” Niall tried to give a faint smile as he worked his way around her body and toward the machine. He was on eggshells around her like she was going to break. It was just an EKG, she didn’t know why she was so nervous. She shrugged off her coat and went to have a seat. She took a few hard and slightly painful breaths, but she didn’t mention that, and Harry gave her a look. One that told her that he knew she didn’t want to do this, but it was necessary.

Niall methodically placed the electrodes on her chest, his touch gentle, his expression a mask of professional composure that barely concealed the turmoil churning beneath. Y/N watched his hands, noting the slight tremor that ran through them as he pressed each pad into place. The familiar hum of the EKG machine filled the quiet room, a stark counterpoint to the rapid, anxious thrumming of her own heart. She focused on the rhythmic beeps, attempting to find a steady rhythm within them, but even that felt erratic, a discordant melody mirroring the disquiet in her chest. Harry, observing from a respectful distance, scribbled notes on a chart, his presence a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation.

As the EKG printed its jagged lines across the paper, Niall leaned in, his brow furrowed in concentration. His gaze, sharp and analytical, swept across the strip, his eyes tracking the peaks and valleys of her cardiac activity. Y/N held her breath, an unspoken question hanging in the air between them. The silence stretched, thick with anticipation, broken only by the continuous, unnerving beeping of the machine. Harry moved closer, his own eyes now fixed on the readout, his hand hovering over the paper.

A subtle shift in Niall’s posture, a tightening of his jaw, was the first sign. He didn't speak, but his eyes, when they met hers, conveyed a dawning concern that sent a chill down her spine. He then took a pen and ruler, measuring intervals, his movements precise and deliberate. "Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice low, "I'm seeing something here... the PR interval is a little prolonged, and the QRS complex seems... wider than it should be." His words, spoken with the calm detachment of a physician, still landed with the weight of a diagnosis.

He pointed to specific sections on the EKG strip, tracing the irregular patterns with his pen. "See here?" he continued, his voice gaining a slightly more urgent edge. "The time it takes for the electrical impulse to travel from the atria to the ventricles... It's taking too long. And the ventricular depolarization is also extended." He paused, looking up at her, his concern now unmasked. "It's subtle, but it's consistent. This isn't just fatigue, Y/N."

Harry stepped forward, his gaze scanning the EKG with a rapid, expert assessment. He nodded slowly, his expression mirroring Niall's. "He's right, Y/N," Harry confirmed, his deep voice resonating with a quiet authority. "There's a definite anomaly in the conduction. We need to run further tests, get a clearer picture." The rhythmic beeping of the EKG continued, each pulse now carrying the ominous weight of a truth she could no longer deny.

She could feel it. The overwhelming feeling behind her eyes, burning. She had cried since her residency, since she learned the hard way that sometimes there was nothing she could do and she felt that in this moment. Existential dread mixed with failure. Failure to take care of her own body. Her heart of all things. The meaning and the weight of it all hitting her like a freight train. A tear escaped but it was quickly wiped away. She started pulling censors off her chest.

“I have patients.” She said softly, moving to stand up and Niall and Harry exchanged a look with each other. She heard Harry groan but was unsure why until she watched him go to stand in front of the door. Arms crossed. Eyes pointed. They weren’t going to let her leave.

“Y/N, please. We could catch it early–” Niall started, his voice was pleading in a way she had never heard it but she abruptly stopped him because she didn’t want to listen. She didn’t want this to be real and she didn’t want there to be something to catch. “It could just be an anomaly.” She started to walk toward Harry to give him a piece of her mind, but he just stood tall, unwavering as Niall gripped Y/N’s arm to keep her from walking further.

Niall normally has gentle hands, soft and she had never felt his grip so tight out of the confines of their personal lives when they were intimate. “Then let me rule it out.” He tried again and Y/N’s eyes kept going from Niall to Harry. She was cornered. It was weak but she agreed with a soft nod. “Okay.”

The quiet of the patient room, usually a place of sterile observation, was now a buzzing hub of activity, focused entirely on Y/N. Niall, his earlier sternness replaced by a comforting determination, meticulously prepared for a battery of blood tests. He explained each step, his voice a steady reassurance, even as he drew vial after vial of her blood, the crimson liquid a stark contrast to the pale clarity of her skin. Harry, ever the silent sentinel, set up a portable echocardiogram machine, its whirring motor a soft counterpoint to the quiet intensity in the room. He prepped the gel, his movements precise and efficient, preparing to delve deeper into the mysteries of her ailing heart.

As the tests continued, the atmosphere in the room shifted from quiet concern to a more focused urgency. Niall carefully labeled each blood sample, his brow furrowed in concentration as he prepared them for the lab. Harry, now positioned beside Y/N, began the echocardiogram, the transducer gliding across her chest, transmitting the rhythmic thump of her heart onto the screen in a kaleidoscope of grays and blacks. He murmured technical observations, his voice low and professional, while Niall hovered, his gaze fixed on the monitor, searching for answers in the intricate dance of her heart’s chambers. The unspoken fear, a palpable presence, hung in the air, but was met with the unwavering resolve of her colleagues.

Just as Harry adjusted the angle of the transducer, the door creaked open, and two more familiar faces appeared: Liam and Zayn.Their sharp eyes taking in the scene with a quick, assessing glance. The room, already a sanctuary of professional concern, now felt complete, a circle of trusted colleagues united in their mission to unravel the truth of Y/N’s condition. Their presence, though silent for a moment, offered a powerful, unspoken comfort.

Liam immediately gravitated towards the EKG strip, his gaze intense as he analyzed the previously recorded data, occasionally conferring in hushed tones with Niall and Harry. Zayn, meanwhile, set up his ultrasound machine, ready to contribute his expertise to the diagnostic puzzle. The air thickened with a shared sense of purpose, a collective focus on the intricate workings of Y/N’s body. She watched them, a strange mix of apprehension and gratitude swirling within her. To be on the receiving end of such concentrated medical attention, from those she respected so deeply, was a disorienting experience, yet undeniably comforting.

The hours that followed blurred into a series of images, measurements, and hushed consultations. Liam examined her heart from every conceivable angle with the echocardiogram, his brow furrowed in concentration. Zayn added his own layer of analysis with the ultrasound, seeking any further anomalies in her cardiac structure or function. Niall, ever the diligent advocate, ensured all samples were processed swiftly and that every single detail, no matter how small, was documented. The room, once a place of hesitant surrender, had transformed into a command center, each man playing a vital role in the tireless pursuit of a diagnosis, for a colleague they deeply cared for.

It was at hour three when she couldn’t take it anymore. She now knew what it was like to be poked and examined with no sort of answer and it was giving her a whole new perspective for her own patients. She gave Niall a look, catching his arm as he walked past her to get to Zayn. “Hey – can we have a minute? Please? Just us.”

Niall nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at her. He spoke quietly to Liam, Harry and Zayn, who, with a shared understanding, gathered their equipment and exited the room, leaving the door ajar but giving them privacy. The sudden quiet felt heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the hospital. Y/N looked at him, her carefully constructed composure finally crumbling. The fear she had been battling, the one she had so staunchly denied, now flooded her eyes.

"Niall," she began, her voice barely a whisper, thick with unshed tears, "I'm scared. Really scared." She gestured vaguely to her chest, her hand trembling slightly. "I'm a doctor. I see this every day. I know what these symptoms could mean, and the thought of it... the thought of not being able to do what I love, of being on the other side of this, it's terrifying." She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on him, pleading for reassurance she wasn't sure he could give.

He moved closer, taking her hands in his, his touch warm and firm. "I know, love. I know it's terrifying. But you're not alone in this. We're going to get through this, whatever it is. And no matter what, you're still Y/N, the brilliant doctor, the amazing woman I fell in love with. Your identity isn't defined by this, and we'll face it together." He squeezed her hands gently, his eyes full of unwavering support, a silent promise that he would be her rock, just as she had been his.

Y/N leaned into his embrace, her forehead resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart – a stark contrast to the chaotic rhythm of her own. She felt the warmth of his hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers gently threading through her hair. The fear, though still present, began to recede, replaced by a profound sense of comfort and safety in his arms.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice muffled against his scrub top. "For everything. For not letting me run away."

Niall pulled back just enough to tilt her chin up, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear from her cheek. His eyes, usually bright with playful mischief, were now soft with a tenderness that made her heart ache. "There's nowhere you could run that I wouldn't follow, Y/N. Not when you're hurting."

He leaned in slowly, giving her time to react, to pull away if she wanted. But she didn't. Instead, she met him halfway, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips met hers. It wasn't a desperate or passionate kiss, but a soft, reassuring press. A promise. It was a kiss that spoke of understanding, of unwavering support, and of a love that could weather any storm. His lips were warm and gentle, moving with a quiet certainty that mirrored the strength she found in him. She felt the subtle shift of his hand from her chin to her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheekbone in a comforting rhythm. In that moment, surrounded by the sterile white walls of the patient room, his kiss was an anchor, grounding her in the present, reminding her that even in the face of uncertainty, she was loved, and she was not alone.

The soft intimacy of their embrace was abruptly shattered by the sound of the door creaking open again. Both Y/N and Niall pulled apart, turning to see Harry standing in the doorway, his usual stoic expression replaced by a look of grim determination. He held a stack of papers, his gaze sweeping over them both before settling on Y/N, his eyes conveying a mix of concern and professional gravity.

"We have the results," Harry stated, his voice a low rumble that seemed to fill the suddenly quiet room. "All the tests are back. We've got a diagnosis."

Y/N felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. The moment she had dreaded, yet desperately needed, had arrived. She looked at Niall, then back at Harry, her breath catching in her throat as she waited for him to speak the words that would define her future. Harry took a step into the room, the papers held tightly in his hand, and before he could utter another syllable, a sharp, piercing alarm began to blare from the monitor next to Y/N’s bed. Her heart rate, displayed in erratic spikes on the screen, plummeted, and then surged, the rhythmic beeping escalating into a frantic, sustained shriek that echoed ominously through the room.

She was determined at that moment. Something had to be done, and as efficiently as possible. Not just for her, but the man who was clutching onto her like she was his lifeline.

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