Niall Horan Imagines and Preferences

You Get Mobbed

Palm resting of your lower back, Niall guided you through the narrow break of fans that caved in as they forcefully rammed past the limited security. 

"Move back", the security continued to firmly instruct the growing crowd, however the security's strength could not match. As the fans abruptly tugged at his body insensitively, Niall's hands made an attempt to link into yours. Losing your touch, he desperately called out over the screams 

"(y/n)? Are you okay?" Your vocal cords were tightening as you could feel the fear swallowing your words. 

"(y/n)?" The back of phones and illuminated lights narrowed in within inches of your face. Anguish graveled Niall's hoarse tone,

 "Can someone help her out?!" Paul's strength rescued your trembling body from the hundreds of teenagers. Anxiously realigning the dark shades that covered your glassy eyes, you could feel Paul's grip protectively enthralling your shoulders, "I've got her Niall."