One Direction | Preferences

He Hears You Sing

He Hears You Sing

A/N: I really, really do apologise for the state of my blog at the moment, it’s a bit of a mess. It should be back to normal soon! You can complain about it all here, or, just give me feedback, or whatever you want really :) x

Niall: It’s when Rosie’s just months old, and refusing to sleep, letting out watery sobs into your shoulder as you gently sway with her against your chest. It’s in the blurry hours of the night when you’re not sure whether to define it as night or day, and the nursery is a dimly lit mess of shadows and furniture that jumps out of nowhere. Niall wakes, rolling over, his heart rate jumping up when the space beside him is empty, but then sound of your socked footsteps reaches him, and he sinks back into the mattress. Your voice starts up then, various verses and chorus and melody’s mixed together, and Niall can’t believe he’s never heard you sing before, because it’s beautiful and soft and warm, the sound lulling both your husband and child back to sleep.

Harry: “Sing for me,” Harry whispers, voice curling through the air as he fiddles with a strand of your hair, curls smushed against the pillow while he smiles, lit up by the moonlight falling over him like a blessing. “I can’t sing.” “I heard you in the shower before, sing for me. Please.” You blink, slow and soft like the mood, everything feels like time could last forever, the night ticking slowly on, but nothing matters except for this beautiful boy smiling at you. “Why?” “I sing for you all the time, you sing for me.” His smile slips into a grin. You clear your throat, and his grin moulds into something different, something even better, warm and kind and loving, his eyes shimmering in the silver light. You breathe a few times, letting your chest rise and fall, before mumbling a quiet, ‘Sorry if I’m bad’, and beginning, letting your voice effortlessly hit the required notes for a few verses and a chorus, before stopping, laughing sheepishly, waiting for Harry’s reaction. “You’re incredible.”

Liam: You’re not even aware he’s in the house, as he’d come home early and letting himself in with a key while you washed the dishes, murmuring the words quietly, before twirling around and putting the bowls away, the song that’s been stuck in your head all day finally escaping, the words filling the room with the fullness of your voice. He peeks into the room, where you’re swaying to the beat of the music in your head, piling the clean cutlery into the drying rack as you hit a note that send shivers down Liam’s back. He crosses the floor in quick strides, tugging you back against his chest and ignoring your little shriek of surprise to plant a kiss on your lips, murmuring compliments against your skin.

Louis: The bathroom provides good acoustics of course, but even Louis is struck by the tone to your voice as he wakes up, sunlight filtering through the curtains, the chorus of ‘Sweater Weather’ mixing with the sound of your shower. He rolls onto his back, the sheets rustling around him, and simply listens as you move through the song, a soft smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, your voice seemingly effortless as you soar through notes and pitch. It’s not until you emerge, wet hair hanging down your back, towel wrapped tightly around you, that you realise he’s heard, immediately blushing as he rolls his head to look at you. “You’re good.” You shake your head, “No, I’m really not.” “Yeah, you really are.” There’s an edge of laughter to his voice, and he smiles at you, eyes glittering, “Seems as though you’re a wonderkid who can do anything.”  

Zayn: It’s a One Direction song, actually, and you hum the tune absentmindedly as you tidy up a bit, Zayn napping after the hectic European tour, but he’s dozing in and out, and listening to you is pretty much as good as sleeping, reassured by the fact that he’s here and home with you. But soon, your humming escalates to murmuring the lyrics under your breath, and then full on singing, the words echoing around the quiet flat as you pick up various pieces of laundry. Zayn rolls over a bit onto his stomach, so that he can use both his ears to pick up the lovely sound, smiling into his pillow as you turn the washing machine on, a warm feeling settling into his stomach as he continues to listen, discovering a new talent of yours.