⁠☞ narry one-shots

✎ tired eyes are the death me

a/n :  niall's pregnant in this one and I understand that might make people uncomfortable.

if you are uncomfortable please don't hesitate to skip this chapter ❤️

basic summary (for the skippers) : Niall's exhausted and loses track of narry's 3 year old son who runs on stage {very basic plotline and is elaborated}

°°°

"Niall. Niall, sweetheart. Wake up baby," a gentle voice called out softly into my ears and I startled awake.

What the fuck?

"I swear I didn't get the orders mixed up!" were the first words blurted out of my mouth before I banged my head on a lamp.

Lamp?

Quickly scanning my surroundings I almost slapped myself at my stupidness.

Falling asleep while trying to bulldoze through mountains of urgent work was not ideal - I would definitely not recommend it.

My cheek was squished against the smooth wooden desk, which was covered in all sorts of documents and stationery.

As I gently lifted my head, a paper that rested beneath my face stuck to my flushed cheeks and I swiped it away in embarrassment.

"Princess," my husband, Harry, spoke behind me and I slightly flinched in my spot, "God, baby, you're so jumpy!"

His warm hands ran up and down my freezing arms, tickling the goosebumps that lined my cool skin.

I tilted my head in his direction and immediately regretted it.

A searing burst of pain shot through my neck and I froze, face scrunching up.

A sigh.

"Darling, this isn't healthy," he perched his chin on my shoulder and planted a kiss on nape of my neck, "Slow down, baby. Take some time off. You're overworking yourself."

This time it was my turn to sigh.

"I know. But there's so much to do!" I shrilled, verging on the edge of frantic, "I need to pick out the new merch designs and select the new colour, promote my new album on twitter, Instagram, YouTube and Tiktok, write the obituary for Aunt Paris, review the music for Louis before he releases his album, help Jonas with a letter to management, plan the baby's nursery bluprint and buy more toys, binkies and clothes, all while Jesse is asleep!"

I tugged on my hair in exasperation and threw open the lid to my Macbook.

My whole body trembled with an overwhelming burst of awareness and I felt Harry wrap his arms around my body as he buried his face into my hair and took a calming breath.

His gentle touch then travelled to my neck Using his index finger and thumb he kneaded into my skin, loosening the tight knots within my muscles.

"God, honey, you're so tense. I should have fucking realised," he mumbled sadly.

I ignored him and opened my email, my breath quickening as I realised that my design approval for the Lover's hoodie was there minutes late.

Suddenly, Harry's gentle hand engulfed my shaky one and slowly closed the laptop lid.

He gently spun my chair around and crouched at my knees, eyes pooling with worry.

"Honey, you need to rest. You've been overworking yourself too much and-"

"-but-"

"-usually, baby, when the hyper-active three year old son falls asleep, the mum who was tending to the child for hours, sleeps too! But here you are doing even more work and stressing yourself out-

"-i know, but-"

"Niall," Harry stated firmly, gingerly grabbing my drooping shoulders, "You know that stress isn't good for you in this condition."

He rests a warm, loving hand on my round stomach, eyes flitting there fondly before locking back with my eyes, "Honey, I just don't want to lose you or the baby simply because your manager doesn't have an ounce of empathy in him. You are almost 8 months pregnant for godsake!"

"I understand, I just-"

For the thousandth time, I was interrupted.

This time, by a kick from the baby. An extremely hard and painful kick.

I squeezed my eyes shut as my breath hitched. My hand flew to grip my stomach and tears gathered in my eyes.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong!" Immediately my husband started to panic, his hands flitting over my body before landing on my stomach again.

Realisation dawned on his face as another PAINFUL kick slammed from my stomach.

My face had contorted with pain and tears had collected on the edges of my eyes, glistening sorrowfully.

"My poor darling. The little one is being so mean today! Don't cry baby, it makes me wanna cry too," Harry's voice cooed, but I could tell his voice was one step away from cracking.

That, I would never get.

Harry Edward Styles was a tough man, and even though he insists it's - I quote - 'quite manly for men to cry', he refuses to shed his tears around people.

The only occasions that he would ever so show his vulnerability through tears would be if it involved me.

I knew he couldn't stand if I got hurt...but, come on, no need to cry about it.

"Harold, if you start crying on me I swear i'll-oomph!"

I unsuccessful stifled a pained groan, doubling over as another kick hit me.

I knew that the baby was telling me that we both needed to relax...and I think Harry knew too.

"Alright, that's it!" He declared, an authority and firmness pressed into his tone, daring me to challenge him one more time.

He abruptly stood up and scooped my quaking form in his arms, bridal-style, before striding away.

He slowly lowered me onto the backstage bed and gently pulled the sheets over my body.

"If you get out of that bed, mister...no sex for a week!" Harry demanded and I couldn't tell if there was a teasing tone to his voice.

"Whyyyy?" I whined, but burrowed deeper into the warmth and comfort of the covers.

Struggling, I tried to prop myself up and create a more comfortable space to sleep in, but the torment of my swollen huge stomach fulfilled it's expectations to harass me.

After a few minutes of trying to get comfortable, I innocently looked up and into my husband's amused eyes, "Cuddle?"

Harry tapped his chin, playfully as if in thought, "Hmm...I don't know, baby? I'M not the one on bed rest."

What a teasing fucker.

I grumbled at his smart ass comment and turned away in a flurry of sass.

Fine, if he didn't want me, he could leave.

A deep chuckle bounced off the walls and soon a rustle of movement behind me and the dipping of the bed, indicated that he had finally succumbed to my sulky mood.

A bare arm suddenly snaked over my belly and another one under my torso, and I felt myself being pulled into the hold of a very NAKED chest that radiated a comforting heat.

The hand on my stomach moved in soothing circles and the activity within immediately calmed down.

Two, sweat-pant clad legs then wrapped around my thighs and I felt myself snuggling deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

Usually, Harry loved being the little spoon and I loved being the big spoon.

It gave me some sort of masculine power in our relationship that I subtly craved.

But after I became pregnant, my husband had gone wildly mad with overprotection and hovered over me every second, even at night.

I didn't mind...somehow.

I blame it on my hormones being all over the place and how having a safe haven in Harry's arms made me feel secure and loved.

However, I think that this 'bad habit' will have a lasting impact, because he had confessed to me a couple of days ago that he was quite enjoying being the big spoon.

At least I was able beat Harry in the masculinity factor being on stage...even if it was my only chonce.

Just as I sighed contentedly and closed my eyes, a piercing wail shrieked from the backstage nursery, startling the adrenaline back into my veins.

Harry's grip on me tightened before loosening as he climbed out of bed. A firm hand was pressed against my spine and I could tell he didn't want me to get up.

"Sweetheart..." He spoke in a warning tone,"I will tend to the little man, don't move."

I almost nodded, lazily and went finally to sleep.

But I didn't, because the curse of maternal love does that to you.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress, I could feed Harry's glare of daggers burn through the back of my head.

Wobbling to my feet, I sighed in disappointment, "I know, I know. I wanted to sleep too. But, Harold, usually around this time Jesse is hungry. And after his sleepy time, he wouldn't touch his food, unless the both of us danced to Cocomelon."

"Can't I do it with him?" Harry pleaded, his voice desperate.

I wish, my dear.

"No. Last week I was at a doctor's appointment and Louis tried to get him to eat by dancing, but all he did was scream and cry until I came home an hour later." Rubbing my stomach, subconsciously, I turned to face my husband, whose eyes were widened and glazed over.

"But, you're exhausted..." The meek reply was the last thing I heard from my husband before we both trailed tiredly into our son's room.

I could only weakly smile and try to hype myself up.

It's fine, I didn't need that nap anyway.

°°°
God, I really fucking needed that nap.

I literally felt like passing out, and I knew Harry could tell.

During soundcheck, every time I looked up from my exhausted mood, my husbands worried eyes were staring back at me with no shame.

And whenever I went to scoop up Jesse in my arms, he would clear his throat really loudly and it would force me to return him to the floor.

We were now an hour away from his LA concert and had just finished setting up, signalling to allow the people to come in.

"Mama! Mama! Up! Up!" My son whined, hands reaching out for the sky and up to me.

I leaned down once again to pick him up - because who can seriously say no to their baby boy's eyes?

But just as I had gripped him from the armpits, that clamber of heavy feet grew louder.

Suddenly, an out of breath Harry swooped in and gracefully snatched our son from my arms.

"Hey JJ, my little man," he exclaimed, still puffing out a heavy breaths from sprinting across the stadium.

He lifted Jesse higher with his long, buff arms and dipped him around the air, as if he was an aeroplane.

"Dadee! Zoooom!"My son burst into giggles and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, giving him sloppy kiss.

My husband's cheeks flushed and he made a face, as if trying to contain a girly squeal of cuteness.

With one more fond look at Jesse, he turned to stare at me, eyes hardened before softening at my slumped form.

My hands were gripping my stomach in an almost death grip and the material of my shirt was fully scrunched under my hands.

I was leaning against the wall, afraid that if I stood up straight, I would collapse.

My eyes kept drooping shut, until I realised and tried to shake the sleep off.

I was in no condition to attend a concert, but I had to, because Jesse had been waiting ages for the moment he could see his Daddy on stage.

"Niall, my baby,"Harry muttered sadly, setting Jesse on the floor to envelope me in a warm hug.

Harry always gave the best hugs and he somehow managed to work around my pregnant belly without it getting awkward or uncomfortable.

"Hey Haz," my words slurred together and I had lean myself against Harry's body.

I knew this worried him even more, but there was nothing I could physically do.

"Sunshine," he started, stepping back to examine me properly before tucking a limp strand of hair behind my ear, "You are exhausted!"

I slumped more into his body, and he graciously welcomed me, gently pressing a kiss to my flushed forehead.

I sullenly fiddled with his stage outfit - a bright white and red shirt, tucked into some modified khaki pants.

Suddenly, my knees buckled from underneath me and I felt myself crashing to the floor.

"Baby!" Harry gasped out, catching me in his embrace and sinking the both of us to the floor.

He peppered my face in frantic kisses and I leant my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken from the shock.

After a while of waiting in a comfortable silence, Harry finally spoke up, voice shaky, "Niall, you need to lie down. Please. Please. Please, listen to me, honey. You almost fucking passed out just then and if I wasn't here to catch you would've badly hurt yourself and the baby and it would be all my fault because..."

"Harry," I croaked out, and he fixed his teary eyes on me, "Can you carry me and Jay to your dressing room? I don't feel so...good."

My husband let out a relieved sigh and nodded, scooping me up and carrying me away once again.

I could only press my head against his shoulder and think about how I always seem disappoint these days.

°°°
Harry's pov :

"Sing along with me if you know the words!" I hollered into the microphone as my band quickly switched the instrumentals.

"Taste like strawberries!" The stadium of people screamed out with me and I grinned.

This job would never get old. Literally never.

Except maybe tonight.

Tonight, where I had to dance around like the fruitman I am while my husband literally fought back exhaustion.

I furrowed my eyebrows and then abruptly plastered a smile on my face, remembering how I couldn't let those idiots of reporters and paps see through me.

If I burst into tears on stage right now, there would be so many articles about 'scandals', it would be ridiculous.

Suddenly the audience cooed unanimously and I snapped my head up, just finishing the song.

As the 'aweing' continued, I flitted my gaze across the stage, trying to scout the source of all this uproar.

"Styles, bro, your little man be on stage and stealing all the ladies hearts!" Paulie subtly whispered to me.

Immediately I was alerted, not even trying to disguise the panic etched on my face.

Jesse was on stage?  God, he could fall over, or crash into something or start crying at all the noise!

I rushed around stage frantically and then sighed in relief as I spotted Sarah bent down and playing with my giggling son.

In one gracious swoop I collected him in my arms, shot a grateful look to my drummer and skipped away, heart lightened.

Now that Jesse was safe in my arms, I was more comfortable with showing him to my fans.

My son giggled at me and then squished my cheeks together before waving at the crowd with a quiet babble.

I planted a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and drew him closer to my chest.

The fans went absolutely crazy and starting screeching at the top of his lungs.

Thank god for Sarah who had already placed a pair of noise cancelling headphones on my the boy.

Suddenly my earpiece crackled and Jeff, my manager started to talk directly to me.

"Harry, listen carefully, your husband passed out a few moments ago and is now seeking and being provided medical attention-"

I cut him off, immediately dashing for the backstage entry only to be stopped again.

"-you don't need to be here! He's going to be fine-"

I heaved a breath trying to contain my growing anger and frustration.

"-but he's my fucking husband Jeffery. Not to mention he is carrying my fucking baby right now!" My voice was low and I had inched out of sight, switching off my microphone.

There was a pregnant silence before he started talking again, "Look, just trust me and stay on stage with your son Harry. If something is deathly wrong and you should've been there, then you have full permission to maul me."

Trust me, I wouldn't hesitate.

"Oh yeah, I have another question...why the fuck is my son left alone on stage."

I rocked Jesse in my arms soothingly and found comfort in the way he rested his head on my shoulder.

Poor baby must be tuckered out too.

Jeff sighed, "That's what I want to talk about. The person who was supposed to look after your son has gone MIA - and will, of course, be fired "

Of course, no one ever puts my son in danger only to get away scott free.

"I am going to come down from the sound booth to look after the lad but you'll need to keep him safe on stage for the next couple of minutes until I reach the backstage area, okay?"

Thank god for people like Jeffery.

"Yep, now hurry your ass up!" I growled impatiently, walking back on stage, uncomfortable with how exposed my son was to everyone.

"Will do," was his short reply before my earpieces cut off.

"Dada!" Jesse squealed, lifting his head to admire all the bright colours and people, "Boo-teeful!"

The audience cooed even more and I couldn't even help myself from joining them.

Niall and I made really fucking cute kids.

"Ladies and Gents and Everything in-between..." I declare into the microphone, "... introducing my son, Jesse Lukas Styles!"

The arena went ballistic and Jesse just clapped his hands together contentedly.

I smiled fondly at my son as he rambled into the microphone, trying to ignore the nagging thought of my poor tired husband.

God, he really did it this time.

I swear, the first thing I was going to do when I saw him was give him a whole lecture on sleeping properly, balancing work and taking care of his body.

Jesse suddenly let out a yawn before dropping his head back on my should and cuddling into my bicep.

The crowd hushed, as if they knew that all my son wanted was a bit of peace and quiet.

I softly peppered his sweaty face with kisses as I watched him drift off.

Actually scratch all that scolding the shit.

The first thing I was going to do when I saw Niall was protect him in my arms and tell him how fucking amazing he was.

Because my husband deserved the word, and if the least I could do was give him some sort of courage and hope of a light at the end of the tunnel , he could count on me to do exactly that.

 I loved him with all my heart...just as much as when we were young lovesick teenagers who were absolutely smitten for each other.

Tired eyes would have to keep fighting, if they wanted to try and knock this family down.

my space: 

how are you guys?

it's been a while since i've update, sorry :)))

what are y'all up to these days?

I'm just relaxing a bunch because I got holidays a few weeks ago.

are there an 5sos fans reading this? Because if yes, go check out my new book Easy for You to Say which is in insta format and mainly focuses on Ashton :)).

all the love,

tal xx