based off the Artic Monkeys song, Do I wanna know? Enjoy - m
Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? ‘Cause I always do.
He was drunk. Off his ass, eating shit in the pavement because he was unable to walk. When his friends had offered to take him home, he had said he would walk. Said the cold London air help clear his lungs and sober him up so he wasn’t such a wreck the next morning. For some odd reason they had let him saunter off, not exactly in the best decision making state of mind either. The world was a constant blur of colors and sounds as he stumbled through the bustling streets of Central London. It was a Friday night, or well, an early Saturday morning he figured it was now. Niall took a glance at his watch, opening his bloodshot blue eyes open wide as he held the watch far away from him, before narrowing his eyes and pulling it up so it touched his nose. Three in the morning. They had left the bar around two thirty, so that meant he had been stumbling around in a drunken stupor for nearly a half hour. An obnoxious drunken laugh bubbled past his throat, and he doubled over, slapping his knee. What in the hell was he doing out so late? He had an interview with the other lads to promote their new 2015 tour at eight in the morning.
Niall looked around, trying to decipher exactly where he was. Left, right, behind, and straight ahead. As he looked forward, a sudden pit opened up in his stomach, swallowing whatever alcohol had sloshed around. Somehow, his feet had walked him all the way over to your side of London, right smack in front of your flat. Niall swallowed, clenching his fists that had started to sweat. He was a nervous wreck ever since you two had broken up. After all, management had set him up with you, an up and coming actress, as a publicity stunt. One Direction’s new album had dropped and shortly after, the relationship between you had ended. But the thing that got Niall, and he was sure had gotten you as well, was that feelings had actually developed. Most publicity stunt relationships occur with as little communication as possible, only really going out on one or two dates that went out in big style. But Niall had liked to think that he had treated you like a princess, because in the early weeks of your relationship, his perception of you had quickly changed to that.
It was in the way that he kissed you, your lips so soft and tasting like cherry chapstick. In the way you giggled at a joke that he had told you that wasn’t even remotely funny. How you managed to carry yourself so beautifully, like the world couldn’t scathe your beauty. Niall Horan had been completely wrecked by you, and he was a mess despite the brave face he put on for pictures and interviews. He pulled out his phone, dialing your number which he had practically memorized by heart, calling you for the first time in months. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the blondish brown as he waited for you to pick up. If you were going to pick up at all.
Niall closed his eyes in bliss at hearing your groggy voice, a voice that he had gotten so much when he called you up in the morning to take you out for breakfast every so often. “[Y/N], please, I’m outside and I need ta see ya.”
“Niall, it’s three in the morning, why aren’t you asleep?”
“I was out with the lads, but that doesn’t matter. Please [Y/N], just let me up, yeah? I need ta see ya. I need to hold ya again, just please.”
“Niall you’re drunk, go home.”
He grabbed at his hair in frustration, letting out a strangled sounding groan. “No, I’m fine [Y/N], please ya gotta let me come up, I’m going crazy thinkin’ about ya. I’m gonna haveta check meself inta a fuckin’ hospital. Please, I’ll get down on my hands and knees if I haveta. Look outside yer curtains darlin’, I’m right here.”
Awkwardly dropping to his knees, phone still connected to his ear, he waited for you to pull back those beautiful lilac curtains that he remembered standing in front of from this spot months ago, making sure you got in safe when the lights turned on. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he waited for that same lamp to turn on that little curtain to illuminate your beautiful figure. He let out a screech of excitement when it did exactly that. Surely enough you peeled back the curtain, poking just your head around the corner, hair in a messy bun and glasses framing your face.
“There ya are darlin’,” he breathed out, a cloud of cold breathe lifting into the air. “Darlin’ I think I’m in love with ya, ya gotta let me come up, please. If you tell me no this time, I’ll go home and won’t bother ya ever again.” It was a last attempt to get you to let him up. Though Niall was almost completely obliterated by alcohol, he knew what he felt and knew it was more real than anything else he had ever felt in your life.
Moments of silence passed as you stared down at him, chewing on your lower lip, not knowing that the little nervous twitch drove Niall practically insane. You fumbled with a necklace around your neck, thinking over what to do. In the end you gave a soft sigh, knowing that Niall was good to you and for you. Publicity stunt or not, you two just fit together like pieces of a puzzle. “Okay Niall…I’ll buzz you up.” you said softly, hanging up the phone but watching him as he scampered into your building.
'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you.
You had been dating the famous pop star Liam Payne for two years now, a steady relationship that had its shares of ups and downs, but never something that you two couldn’t seem to work out. Ironically enough, you had met at his favorite club, Funky Buddha. An electric song that had come on, some kind of Far East Movement song that just got bodies naturally grinding was sounding through the speakers, and like two magnets, you smacked right into each other. Or well, you had accidentally knocked Liam in the back of the head, jumping up and down and swiveling your hips to the beat with a couple of girlfriends with you. Liam was a level headed lad for the most part, but a sleeping bear when it came to his anger.
He had turned on you, ready to ask you just what the fuck you thought you were doing, when he met your wide eyes scared of what exactly was about to come out of this transaction between two drunk people. “I’m sorry!” you blurted out, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat, makeup smeared slightly but not in a way that came off as scary. To him, it was like you had walked out clouds from Heaven to descend and lead him to the path of happy living.
“No, no it was my entire fault,” he chuckled, sticking out his hand to you, using it to pull you close as you took it. “I’m Liam.”
“I know,” you replied.
And the rest, as they say, was history. Two years later and you were currently cruising down a long strip in Vegas, a personal vacation for just the two of you, courtesy of Liam for your anniversary. Since you couldn’t do a lot of things special during your actual anniversary due to them being on tour, he swore he’d make it up to you by taking you on a nice two week vacation in Vegas. And who were you to argue, Vegas was as beautiful and enticing as Funky Buddha. Windows were down, hair blowing freely in the wind. You were staring out the window at all the different attractions, all the different casinos and exciting little things you wanted to try during your stay. Liam’s hand was holding yours, thumb stroking your hand lovingly as you drove.
When suddenly, a beat that was all too familiar spilled through the radio. Liam pulled his hand from yours, causing you to look over as a Cheshire Cat’s grin spread over his face. “This is our song!” he said, turning the song up so loud that it mirrored how it sounded that fateful night two years ago. A smile crept over yours as he placed his hand back in yours, kissing it before it came to rest back on the console.
You pulled it back up to the kiss the same spot, only this time on his hand. “I love you Liam,” you said before reciting a part of the song, causing Liam to laugh like he was a child all over again.
“And I love you baby girl, forever and always, you wanna know something?”
"I want this song played at our wedding," your heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of marriage. Now while you and Liam had jokingly spoke of marriage, it was never something that could be taken out and planned properly.
You smiled before looking out the window, your eyes widening beneath your sunglasses. “Well, well, there’s a little wedding chapel right there.”
Liam didn’t need to be told twice as he pulled into the parking lot. “You know what they say doll, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”
That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.
He thrust into you wildly, his hips slamming into your pelvis, spreading your legs wider if possible. Your moans filled the room as he leaned down to trail kisses down your neck, quick to finishing as his thrusts became more erratic, sloppier with the need to hit that high and hit it hard. Zayn buried his head in your chest as you cried out, reaching your own orgasm with Zayn following just a few minutes after. Rolling his hips in and out slowly to ride it out at its entirety, did he fall beside you in bed afterwards, both your breaths labored as you entered a recovery stage of the most raucous sex of your life.
Or well, to be truthfully just today.
Zayn and you had been fuck buddies for a couple weeks now. Mutual friends for years now, an accidental kiss between the two of you had started this whole thing. And now here you both lay, sexual frustrations satisfied.
When you had gotten your breathing under control, you went to roll out of his bed, rummaging for your panties among the clothes the two of you had managed to shed in seconds. “Where are yuh going?” Zayn asked to your back. You heard him roll over the bed, his fingertips massaging your hips, his swollen lips trailing lazy kisses down your spine.
The sensation of his lips on your back was something new, and it sent a shudder through your spine, closing your eyes to relish in the intimacy of it all before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Home?”
“I was kinda thinking, yuh could I don know, stay the night mayhbe?” your body froze up, despite his ethereal fingertips, soft kisses, and warm breath on your exposed flesh. This was the first time Zayn had asked you to even stay more than a minute after orgasm. It made you feel weird, like you were crossing a boundary that hadn’t been set in definitive lines. But still. You and Zayn fucked, remained friends. That was it. There weren’t any feelings, or there weren’t supposed to be at least. You caught Zayn looking at you sometimes, when the group went out to a bar or to dinner. And despite you telling your heart to knock it the fuck off, you caught yourself staring at him too. Just taking in his features, the way his eyelashes brushed his cheekbones, how his eyes crinkled up and sparkled with laughter. In your mind, you could fight this feeling; in your mind you could fight the fact that you were developing a crush on the one and only Zayn Malik.
“I mean, yuh don haveta, I just think it’d be nice to have a littleh company, ya?” Zayn noticed the frigidness in your back, taking away his lips and his hands.
“I liked that,” you murmured, falling back into bed beside him, your exposed body turned to face him.
“When you were kissing me, it felt nice.”
If you hadn’t known any better, you could have sworn that Zayn was blushing. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against his tattooed body, head burying into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. Moments passed as he breathed out a lot sigh before kissing along that area with the same tenderness that had been used on your spine. You closed your eyes again as his fingers started to knead the flesh around your hips in the same motion as before. It felt nice, being held by someone. Someone that knew you emotionally and physically inside out. Zayn’s teeth grazed the soft spot on your neck, a soft gasp coming from you as you felt his smile on your skin.
“I like this,” he said into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you now, holding you closer to him than you ever thought possible.
“I like this too,” you said quietly, looking at his beautiful eyes, looking for some sort of sign that he was going to break your heart in just a matter of minutes. But all you saw was a secret affection bursting through his eyes, wanting to give you the world and more. You decided not to fight anymore, and nestled your body against his, feet intertwining and bodies becoming one.
Been wondering if you heart’s still open and if so I wanna know what time it shuts.
To say you were livid was an understatement. Harry had been out for the fourth night in a row later than he had told you. The first two nights were okay with you, you had expected so much. Harry was a popular topic of discussion, and having him around to promote something or take pictures with fans was something you had come to terms with. After all, this was his life, and he had come to you wanting to form a relationship in it. But the fourth time, tonight, was your breaking point. Harry had said he would be home quarter past ten, still enough time for you guys to have a late dinner and maybe a movie and some sex. But now it was half past one in the morning, and the pizza was all eaten. But surprise, surprise, still no Harry. You were sat on the sofa of your home, a bottle of beer in your hand as you scrolled through your phone, texts, and eventually playing some games.
Closer to two, did Harry stumble into the house, smelling and looking like a tall black bottle of vodka. His cheeks were a ruddy pink, eyes unable to focus on anything until they came to rest on your pissed off looking face. “Hey baby, s’up?” His voice was thick with the tinge of alcohol, slurred to the point of almost being incomprehensible. You shook your head, standing up and heading towards your bedroom.
You had a whole spiel planned out, ripping into him with the accusations that he no longer cared about you or your marriage, and at this point it would be best for you to just sleep in different beds for the night. You loved Harry, more than you thought humanly possible, but there were certain things you just couldn’t excuse. Broken promises were one of them.
“I had dinner for us, y’know? Nice little takeout pizza from your favorite place, y’know. Nothing special or anything, not like I have barely seen you these last couple days.” Your words were as cold as you had intended them to be, and you heard his footsteps stop behind you. But you didn’t stop walking, shutting the bedroom door behind you and stalking into the bathroom to take your makeup off and finally get ready for bed.
The bedroom door creaked open, and just as you had expected, Harry’s head of long and beautiful curls popped itself around the corner. You paused with the makeup remover smudged with your makeup still held up to your face. “[Y/N]…” he started, speech still incredibly slurred.
“Did I do something Harry? I mean, we’ve been married for a year now, and it’s only been recent that you started going out and partying. If I did something, please, tell me. When did you become so closed off from me?” you chewed on the inside of your lip, trying the best to keep your composure. It bothered you to no end when you cried in front of Harry, not that he wasn’t incapable of comforting you; it was just the idea of someone seeing you other than composed.
He closed the distance between you in a matter of strides, wrapping his arms around your body, smelling strongly of vodka. “No, no, no, you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong love. It’s just….work is so stressful, and I know it’s not the proper way to deal with things. I just…I don’t know. There’s nothing to excuse how much of an ass I’ve been lately, I had no idea it was hurting you this bad. I’m so sorry love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t….I didn’t realize. Please, forgive me?”
It was hard to stay mad at those emerald eyes, and you gave into his warmth, your own body igniting into a flame as you remembered that home was in Harry’s arms, no matter what you two did and no matter if you two fought. “It’s okay Haz, come on, you’re drunk and I’m tired. We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay?” you gave him a soft smile, kissing his knuckles as you locked eyes in the mirror. Harry nodded, eyes already half asleep as he rested his chin on the top of your head.
I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s just I’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you.
He was an enigma. Some sort of creature that you knew you wanted to touch, wanted to feel on the pads of your fingertips, but you knew if you so much as came within an inch of him, he was going to burn you. So instead of risking bodily harm, you just stayed away from him, watching him as he was sat at the bar, tipping back a glass of dark liquor. You had your own drink, and it stayed pressed against your jaw as you stared at him, the mystery that was Louis Tomlinson. It wasn’t a secret of who exactly he was after all, his face was only plastered on every cover of teenage magazines, their songs popping up on the radio every round. You were a fan of the band, yes, at this stage in the game it was weird not to be.
This had been a bar you frequented weekly with your girls, and this wasn’t the first time you had seen Louis here either. Ever since moving out to London, you had begun to see quite a bit of the pop star, but had never once mustered the courage to even say hello and ask for a picture. You twirled a lock of your hair around your finger, taking a sip from your drink as someone nudged the scruffy lad and pointed in your general direction. Shit. Surely they couldn’t see you staring from all the way over here, there was no way in hell. The club was packed, there was absolutely no chance in hell you were seen. But sure enough, as the color drained from your cheeks, did you meet the eyes of Louis Tomlinson. At first his expression was one of annoyance, why had someone tapped him on the shoulder? But as his eyes registered yours and your facial features, did that little frown make its way in an upright direction.
“Fucking shit,” you swore under your breath, the air leaving your lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“What?” a friend chirped next to you, her beer sloshing all over her dress.
“Louis Tomlinson is looking at me.”
It was as if the world had narrowed in on that particular person, everything else fading into the background. He was smiling at you as if he knew all your secrets, as if he was the one person to make everything in your life unravel at the drop of a pin and he knew it. And you would be damned if it wasn’t the hottest most single thing you had ever see in your life. You knew what you needed to do. Mustering up some of that liquid courage, you hopped out of the barstool you had been sat on, praying that your knees didn’t give out from underneath you in your attempt to make your way to Louis.
The club was packed, bodies sausaged in like a can of sardines, but it didn’t stop your beeline to Louis. Once you were stood in front of him, he stood up to let you into the booth he was sat at, that same smirk even wilder up close than from across the club. You slid in, unsure of what to make of this scenario. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would even meet Louis Tomlinson, let alone share a booth in a club with him.
“I was wondering when you were going to make the trip over her love, I’ve been waiting on it for quite some time.” He placed an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in so that your head was closer to his. It made talking easier over the loud music, and you loved the way he smelled of fresh aftershave and the hint of cigarettes.
“I could say the same about you,” you replied back, looking up at him with those bewitching eyes that had you trapped in their spell. When he caught your eye, you couldn’t help but bite down on your lower lip, his eyes widening at the site as he ducked his head to whisper in your ear.
“Forgive me love, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about what those damned lips must taste like,” His voice was husky, and it sent an electric bolt to your belly. There was no way this was actually happening, surely you were dreaming. Or this was just some guy who looked like Louis, not actually the real thing. But as you felt his warmed skin against your neck, the hair, and the voice all matched up.
“Well then Louis, why don’t you find out?”