Take Care of Her

WELCOME! The following work is very very very VERY adult and contains both M/F and F/F expressions of sexuality. While Niall & Zayn are in it, Niall is *QUITE* straight & the boys don't interact sexually.

Please don't read if you're underage - and be sure to vote and comment! If this story gets enough love, we are definitely considering adding extra chapters or writing sequels :-)

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Zayn Malik, the sole tattoo artist & owner of the shoppe, was busy closing up when he saw her for the first time. He took his work seriously - something to be proud of - and was spraying down and sanitizing the black leather chair when she knocked on the glass door.

He looked up, the lights mounted on the outside highlighting her hair, so blonde it was almost white. She was short and reminded him of fairies he'd read about in children's books, shimmering and petite - and imaginary.

But it was after eleven, and rules were rules.

"I'm sorry!" He shouted at her through the door and the words VIBEZ SKIN ART printed on the glass, appearing backwards to him and obscuring her face. "Only do afterhours work with an appointment!"

"I'm not here for a tattoo!" The girl shouted back, accent distinctly American. He sighed before taking a few steps closer.

"What can I do for you then?" He barked and the girl looked frustrated. More desperate than annoyed, she pinched her nose between her manicured fingernails.

"Do you know a man named Harry Styles? He told me to find him if I ever needed him but I only have his work number and he's not answering-" She began to prattle on before he unlocked the door.

"Come on in. Give me a second. What's your name?"

"Harper Monroe. Do you know him?"

"He's a neighbor of mine, yes."

She looked disappointed. "Fuck." Zayn arched a confused eyebrow. "I was hoping he lived here."

Zayn lived directly above the tattoo shop, in a renovated old building that used to be a firehouse, complete with the firepole installed to transport him directly from his bedroom to his workplace.

"Let me give him a call, yeh?" He asked, stepping away and dialing Harry.

It rang just a few moments before Harry answered on the other end.

"Hello," he spoke, slow and steady as always - and unknown to Harper, less than fifty feet away, upstairs. "What's going on, Z?"

"Do you know a bird named Harper Monroe?" Zayn asked. Harry did live in the bedroom next to Zayn's, but after a stalker or two had gotten a little too close, the roommates had all agreed to never tell anyone where they lived.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because she's standing in the shoppe asking for you."

"Are you...?" A grumpy sigh. "Bollocks. I'll be right down."

Harry hung up and he spun around to smile at her. She was beautiful, but looked understandably awkward and uncomfortable.

"I'm Zayn," he offered, holding out his substantially tattooed hand for a shake. She accepted, smiling.

"I know." A giggle.

"Excuse me?"

"Harry owes me a favor. I needed to get in touch with him but he's incredibly hard to find, but he did mention his roommate Zayn owned a tattoo shop. So I Googled - and found you. Not a lot of Zayn's that own their own business. Read the article you did for Texas Tattoo and it mentioned you lived above the shop so you could work whenever you wanted, so I was just hoping..."