One-Shots + Drabbles → Narry

stolen

DESCRIPTION: In which Niall is a robber to famous celebrities and Harry is one of those (un)lucky victims.

WORD COUNT: 1405

Harry sat in the gaming room of his gigantic mansion playing GTA 5 with his best friend and fellow model, Zayn Malik. They aggressively pressed their sore fingers against the buttons of the controllers as they chanted meaningless nothings to each other. “C’mon, Malik, you gonna lose to me? You could do so much better.” Harry spat, sending a small smirk Zayn’s way without having to look away from Harry’s large plasma screen TV.

Zayn chuckled lowly, “Wouldn’t dream of such mediocracy, Styles.” They didn’t dare turn away from the screen as they shot relentlessly at one another, in the least violent way possible. Harry began to whine, “No, no, no! I wanted the drugs! I hate you, Malik!” He shoved Zayn off the couch with his controller, and in response, Zayn simply stuck out his tongue. “Drug addict,” Harry smirked, “Says the smoker.”

As they cleaned up the basement, not by much though, they heard rustling coming from upstairs as they were downstairs, whatever was up there couldn’t see the lights that were turned on. Upstairs, it was pure darkness, and the two were planning for a friendly sleepover. Looks like they were going to have an unplanned visit from whatever was popping the back door.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Harry whisper-shouted, turning off the game, and pushing Zayn into the nearest closet he saw, and shoved him underneath all of the empty cardboard boxes. Harry placed his trembling finger over his soft puckered lips, “Don’t say a fucking word, Malik, or die.” Zayn was quivering slightly, barely managing a vigorous nod. Harry sauntered off to the other side of the room, shutting off the light.

Before he could manage to cross to the closet again, Harry heard footsteps somewhere above him. He looked up, noticing the ladder to the basement completely open. Fucking shit! This meant whoever was upstairs had to have noticed the basement lights on. Harry hesitated on what to do, but when he heard the footsteps walking closer in the darkness, it became clear: run up those god damned steps.

He whispered good luck to Zayn before lightly placing his foot on the first step followed by light running sounds. Harry speed-walked through the darkness, waving his hands in front of him because of the dark room. He couldn’t even see: this person could be anywhere. Watching him right now, laughing at Harry’s pathetic attempt to live, survive.

The only sounds Harry could hear were his rapidly beating heart, the pulse of his nerves echoing through his skulls walls, and his heavy breathing. He finally found himself in his valuables closet, or so he guessed. His baby blanket was in there, and as it was set in his DNA, he cuddled up into the corner after closing the door, and began to cry into it.

His blanket was a pastel green fleece-like material with yellow rubber duckies on it, and regardless of how famous Harry got, his best friend was that blanket. It knew the amount of tears Harry’s cried, and now, it was a record amount. As his sobs died down, he began to think about who decided to come into Harry’s house in the first place. He mentally face-palmed himself, and just as he was about to cuddle into the blanket again, he heard footsteps and what looked like the wavering of a flashlight coming from the hallway.

“Crap,” Harry murmured, barely audible. But in his delusional mindset, it was much too loud for his liking. He clutched onto the blanket in his sweating hands, his tight black shirt sticking to his abdomen. The footsteps became even closer to the closet door, and Harry attempted to duck underneath the blanket, intended for a baby. To say the least, it was one of Harry’s least intellectual moves.

The door opened, a small, deep chuckle came from the doorframe, and as Harry clutched onto his last breath, the mystery man ripped Harry of his protection. Thinking of it now, he should’ve grabbed a controller or something to defend himself, as dumb as it sounds. Harry glanced up, surprisingly entranced by the beautiful blue eyes he was staring up into. They were absolutely gorgeous to be blatantly honest.

“The Harry Styles? It’s an honor to be robbing your house.” The blonde smirk, extending his right hand, waiting patiently for the trembling brunette to do the same. When Harry didn’t, Niall decided to start his game. “My name is Niall, and I have request for you. I won’t kill you if you do whatever I say. No one will find out who did it, because Malik down there will die and is currently tied up. There are no more witnesses.” Harry gave in, nodding vigorously. “What exactly do I have to do?”

Niall smiled, and a glint of happiness rang through his eyes, before being replaced by lust. “I just want to cuddle with my favorite celebrity, s’all. And a couple thousand pounds.” Harry reluctantly agreed, it wasn’t too bad. It’s not like it was rape or anything.

Niall pounced at Harry, grabbing him and launching towards the nearest bedroom. Harry’s eyes widened, before remembering what Niall wanted. Cuddles. “Who the hell goes to Harry Styles’ house for cuddles, anyways? There’s such thing a prostitute, she’s more than willing to do the dirty work and more.” Niall chuckled, “You’re mine for tonight, cuddle-wise.” Harry rolled his eyes, getting over the fact that he was practically just called a male whore.

Niall laid down in the bed, took off his shirt, shuffled underneath the covers and motioned with his index finger for Harry to get closer to him. Harry ablodged and took of his shirt, settling next to the blonde with eyes that he couldn’t simply get over, regardless of his current position in Harry’s life. That’s when something scary happened.

Niall began to trail his light fingertips up and down Harry’s bare arms, causing Harry’s breath to hitch in his throat and goosebumps to raise. “It’s nice to know I have such an effect on you,” Niall murmured, smiling a little bit, innocently even.

And for a second there, Niall had Harry fooled to think he was actually liking this guy. This guy he didn’t even know (besides the fact that his name was Niall and his favourite celebrity is apparently Harry Styles), and the one who is stealing cuddles from him to save his life. Pathetic to think, really. But in all honesty, he was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever met, and he has Zayn, Louis and Liam! (He’s still prettier, though.)

“Can I do something I’ve always wanted to do?” Niall asked breathlessly, bringing Harry out of his trance. “Uh, I, sure.” Harry whispered, and before he could properly ask what, Niall’s soft pink lips crashed into his. Niall tugged at Harry’s voluminous hair, desperately wanting some sort of response. Harry barely nudged his lips when Niall’s hand went flying for Harry’s crotch.

“S-stop!” Harry demanded, taking Niall’s touchy hand off of Harry’s already hard member. “I’m not going to pay you for sex, especially not several thousand. If you want that, you can kill me now. I will not become your sex slave, bastard.” Niall had an expression of pure shock, because 1.) Harry’s demanding voice was so sexy and 2.) He had to agree. Niall did say he only wanted to cuddle. Or did he?

Niall immediately leaped up, throwing a small piece of paper on his nightstand. He shook his head back and forth and in the darkness embracing both of them, Niall muttered in a weak less-demanding voice, “You still owe me those pounds, Harry Styles.” before leaping straight of the door without looking back. Harry scrunched his eyebrows together, a puzzled expression never leaving his face for the remainder of the night. The note read, just in case you’re wondering:

don’t tell me i didn’t warn you {call xxx-xxx-xxxx}

On that line, Harry found the hotline for people who are deeply depressed, and there, someone was waiting for an appointment. That person was Niall, who ran away to Harry’s house that night, and Harry was paying the bill until he got better. So far, it was several thousand pounds.

“Fuck it, the guy needs it, anyways.” But maybe Harry gave the guy the money for different reasons, reasons he didn’t want anyone knowing.

Because really, who would end up liking an insane criminal?