Scribbles (A Niall Horan fan...

By bangaz

4.8K 26 10

Let me break this down for you, Diary, because I think you'll take my side on this one. In which Bailey discu... More

Scribbles (A Niall Horan fan fiction)
1) September 1: Under The Radar
2) September 2: Viewing Pleasure
3) September 5: Fridge Raiding and Nie-Ull
4) September 6: Granny Panties and The Favor
5) September 7 & 8: Foxy Five Panty Droppers
6) September 9 & 10: Shrek and Exorcist Offspring [The Party]
7) Sep. 12 - Oct. 1: Womanly Urges
8) October 3 & 4: The Lasy Sebra
9) October 8: Bellybutton Plug
10) October 9: Bat Shit Crazy
11) October 10: Just A Hot Mess
12) October 11: Yes! Boobs!
14) November 20 &21: Hagrid and Stripping Police
15) December 17: Ice Luge
16) December 18: Shark Whisperer
17) December 19: Llama Farm
18) December 20, 21, & 22: I Spy
19) December 26-28: Florence Nightingale
20) January 1: Troll On Acid
21) January 2-6: Try Their Darndest
22) January 8-13: An Ugly Sheep
23) An Ugly Sheep: Part Deux
25) Jan. 15 - March 3: Eye Candy
26) April 13: Simon Says
27) Simon Says: Part Deux
28) April 14: Minor Setbacks
29) April 16 - May 24: Sharks On Motorbikes
30) May 25 - June 10: I Mean DAMN
31) I Mean DAMN: Part Deux
32) I Mean DAMN: Part Tres
33) June 12 - July 7: Pluto (RIP)
34) Pluto (RIP): Part Deux
35) August 18: Tooting Fairy Princess
36) Tooting Fairy Princess: Part Deux
37) August 30: Priorities and Wrath
38) Sep. 15 - Oct. 9: Butterball
39) Butterball: Part Deux
40) Butterball: Part Tres
41) Butterball: Part Vier
42) Oct. 15 - Dec. 20: Snow White Neanderthal
43) Snow White Neanderthal: Part Deux
44) Snow White Neanderthal: Part Tres
45) Epilogue

24) January 14 & 15: Warlocks and Stage Five Clinger

88 0 1
By bangaz

This chapter is a bit mature

******************************************************************************************************

14 January, 2012

            It has come to my attention that I really need to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.  College works pretty differently in the UK than in America so I’m basically lost.  There are things called A-Levels that I don’t understand but they sound pretty important.  And there’s the college/university situation that I also don’t understand. 

            To be honest, I always imagined myself going back to the States for college.  It never occurred to me I would have a hunk of a man to keep me firmly planted in England.  And I do want to stay in England.

            Yet…

            America really is my home.  One roller coaster of a year in England doesn’t change that.  And now that my mom and I are kind of chatting again, there’s nothing holding me back from America.  Maybe…maybe Niall would be willing to look at schools in America, also.

14 January, 2012, later

            So I casually brought up the idea of college to Niall in the subtle way that I have mastered.

            “So what are your plans for college?” I asked as I leaned against his headboard and fiddled with a Rubik’s Cube.

            “A-Levels and then university,” he recited.  “If music doesn’t work out.”

            I stared at him blankly.  He was sitting on the end of his bed restringing his guitar.  Niall had explained the A-Level thing to me but it went right over my head.

            “So…What does that mean exactly?”

            “Sixth form,” he said.  I rolled my eyes.  Of course, sixth form.  Love that sixth form.  Brilliant.  “It’s pretty difficult, though, so I’m hoping Warren calls me real soon.”

            “Yeah,” I said.  “Definitely.”

            So that answered absolutely nothing.  He might as well have told me his plans in Russian for all the good his explanation did me.  What the poop is sixth form?  And why does everyone keep telling me college and university are two different things?  And why is everyone rambling on about something called GCSE’s?  Are they important?  Should I be worried about them?  It’s a test right?  Wait, shit, should I have been studying for them this whole time?  Wait…am I even eligible to take GCSEs? 

            I’m confused.  I’m going to go look up American colleges because that is far more simple.  Aaaaaand break!

14 January, 2012, laterer

            You know, I started on about this whole college thing as a means to distract me from the craziness that is my life, but now I’m raising valid concerns. 

            Maybe I should email Warren again and see what he’s up to.  I don’t particularly want to be a musician, but Niall does.  Maybe Niall can become famous and I can just live off of him.

            No wait, that’s a terrible plan.

            I am a strong, independent woman.  I don’t need no man!

14 January, 2012, two minutes later

            But I mean if he has extra spending money anyway—

            No!  Bad Bailey. 

14 January, 2012, even later

            Oh my god.

            I think I’m a warlock.  I am a summoner!  I summon things!

            So I was thinking about Warren Davis and how he was the solution to all of our problems but he was a selfish prat for denying me of my dream to marry a famous musician.  And then—and then—I get a frantic call from Niall telling me that Warren emailed him and the boys back! 

            I did it!  I am totally responsible for this! 

            I can’t take all the credit, but my summoning skills can absolutely take most of the credit!

            I don’t believe it.

            The boys are meeting with him Monday after school.

            I can’t even…oh my god.

            I’m a little hurt he deemed me unworthy of meeting with, but I mean, whatever.  It’s not like I wanted to be a singer anyway.  It just would have been nice to be appreciated, you know?

14 January, 2012, few minutes later

            …does this mean I need to worry about college anymore?

14 January, 2012, later

            Okay. Okay this is happening.

            The boys are having a celebratory kickback at Niall’s.  Not sure if Jessica and Karen are coming yet but they were invited. 

            I’m pissing myself.  It’s one thing to have an epic showdown outside of a bus but it’s another thing to be in the same house with each other. 

            Oh god I hope they’re not there. 

15 January, 2012

            Holy shit.  Holy balls on a warm summer day.

            I have huge news but I feel like I should lead into it slowly.  Okay.  Oh my god.

            Okay, so, I went to Niall’s as planned.  Karen and Jessica were not present which was a massive relief, let me tell you.  I waited for things to be a little awkward with everyone because I know it’s just natural for it to be a little awkward.  But maybe it’s justme that’s awkward because everyone else acted like nothing ever happened.  Camilla and Fi ran up to me and took me into a massive hug.  Fiona had already nicknamed us the Girlfriend Crew.  The name could use some work, but it was cool nonetheless. 

            I gave all of the boys a big hug.  Everyone kept reminding each other that a meeting didn’t really mean anything and they shouldn’t get their hopes up but everyone had a perma-smile the entire night.  We knew in our soul that this was the start to something big.

            And, naturally, to celebrate, we forced the guys to sing us something.  Niall ran upstairs to grab his freshly restrung guitar.  They sang three songs for us—not More Than This, thankfully—and I got that animalistic urge to jump Niall yet again.  I restrained those urges as best I could.

            After the songs, we all just sat around and drank.  It was all very classy.  And it felt like old times which was even better.

            “We should get going,” Louis said.  He wrapped an arm around Fiona and kissed her temple.

            “Yeah,” she agreed.  “Congratulations, boys.”

            “We should go, too,” Camilla sighed.  She looked at Liam and he nodded.

            “My mum is still freaking out,” he chuckled. 

            So the four walked out together. 

            I sat with Niall, Harry, and Zayn for awhile as we drank some more and talked.  Then Zayn and Harry excused themselves.  I curled up with Niall on the couch as soon as the door closed. 

            “Can you believe it?” he breathed. 

            “Yes,” I said.

            “I can’t,” he laughed lightly.  “We’re just five normal guys.”

            “That sing like choirboys that have hit puberty,” I added.

            “What?” Niall asked blankly.  Then he seemed to think better of receiving a clarification.  “I don’t believe it.”

            “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” I sighed.

            “I think I give myself credit,” he countered.  “It’s just…do you know how competitive the music industry is?”

            “And do you know how talented you guys are?”

            “Bee…”

            “Would you stop trying to convince me that you don’t deserve this?  It’s not going to work.  You guys do deserve this.  You’re everything the music industry needs right now.  You’re talented, fun, and handsome.  What more could you want?”

            “Why are you so good to me?” he smiled fondly which made me blush.

            “Why do you put up with me?” I asked.

            “Because I love you, that’s why.”

            Niall let out a short laugh and stopped suddenly when he realized what he had said.  His alarmed blue eyes met my astonished blue eyes.  I mean, I know that in today’s world people use the “I love you” phrase a bit too loosely, but this didn’t feel like a half-assed “love ya!” kind of situation.  At least not on my end. 

            “What?” I asked breathlessly.

            “What?” he asked quickly.

            “Niall, you just said…”

            “No, I didn’t.  I said nothing.”

            “You did, too.  You said it.”

            “Said what?” his voice rose with panic. 

            “If you don’t want to have said it,” I said slowly, staring into his eyes to try and figure out what was running through his head, “then you didn’t say it.”

            I had given him an out.  A way to take it back.  Clearly he had not consciously made this declaration.  And, if I’m not mistaken, he was freaking out about it.  Big time.   I was using his discomfort to avoid my on feelings and thinking process.  If he didn’t want to acknowledge it, then I wasn’t about to over analyze it.

            His face contorted into that of deep thought.  His eyes were wide as he stared at the arm of the couch.  He twiddled his thumbs and leaned his elbows on his knees.  He bit his lip and let out a long sigh.  It was rather disconcerting to have your boyfriend go into such a spaz attack after telling you he loves you.  It doesn’t do much for the ego.

            “I don’t want to scare you off,” Niall said tentatively.

            “Scare me off?” I scoffed.  “Puh-lease.  I’m holding onto you like a stage five clinger for the rest of my life.”

            The amplitude of his words hit me as he smiled at the ground.  He hadn’t taken it back.  He hadn’t denied it.  Did that mean…Wait…What?  He didn’t let me agonize over it very long.

            “In that case,” he said softly, “I do love you.”

            I felt like my heart had simultaneously jumped into my throat and plummeted into my stomach all at once.  Then it slammed against my ribs as if trying to escape. 

            Love?  Love

            I don’t even know what love is!  I don’t…What the hell do I know about love?! What do I know about relationships in general for that matter?  Nothing!  Nothing!  People should know that I’m a complete novice at anything involving human romance.  Why do people keep putting me in these positions like I should know what to do?  Why?  They’re just setting themselves up for failure and heartache.  They really are.  Because I’m a tiny little fish, floundering in the middle of the ocean with a broken fin.  Or maybe one of my tiny little fish eyes is missing.  Or maybe a shark took a chunk out of me.  I’m not equipped to surf these waters!  Why would the world allow such a fish to swim freely?  It should always have a mentor fish.  Always

            I think I looked ten kinds of hysterical because Niall put a hand on mine and his eyes were full of concern.

            “Bee, I’m not expecting anything back.  I just wanted to tell you how I feel,” he explained.  I nodded about fifty times in thirty seconds.  I remembered what Harry said about Niall falling in love with girls too easily.  Is that what was happening?  Had the poor boy stooped so low as to think he’s in love with me.  Because I don’t care what the boys of England think of me, I do not have enough redeeming qualities for someone to fall inlove with me.  That totally goes against the balance of the world. 

            What does he mean he doesn’t expect anything back?  What would I give back to—oh.  Oh

            I had been so worried about the improbability of someone loving me that I had forgotten there was a certain phrase that most people responded with to such a declaration.  Hadn’t given that much thought.  Well, since I was already a frantic mute, I figured that was a good a time as any to assess my feelings.

            Did I love Niall?

            Honest answer, I have no fucking clue. 

            Did I really like Niall?  Of course.  Is he my best friend as well as my boyfriend?  Absolutely.  Is he one of the most important people in my life?  Well, yeah.  But so is Hagrid.  And yes, Hagrid counts as a person. 

            Okay, no.  I cannot compare Niall to Hagrid.  That is just not…just no. 

            Niall made me feel better about myself than anyone.  He’s supportive, kind, funny, smart, talented, adorable, forgiving, and just all around perfect.  Does perfection equal love?  This isn’t some deep rhetorical question that English teachers have us contemplate in class.  It’s a real question.  Does perfection equal love?  People always say that loving someone doesn’t mean their perfection means their flawless, it means you find their flaws perfect.  Or something like that.  I’m a bit rusty on the lovey dovey sayings.  But I guess it makes sense.  As far as I’m concerned, Niall has zero flaws.  I mean, he’s way too forgiving and kind to me, but where would we be if that weren’t the case?

            I tried to think about the way I feel when I’m with Niall.  Or the way I feel after hearing his voice.  I feel light and carefree and capable of anything. He makes me feel like I’m worth something.  And even though we’ve only been dating a couple of months, I really do see a future with him.  I saw a future with him the first time I laid eyes on him.  And, apparently, the feeling was mutual.

            So, what does that mean exactly?

            And before I could overanalyze everything, I heard myself saying, “I love you, too.”

            The words came as much of a shock to me as they did to Niall.

            Shut up, mouth!  I did not allow you to speak! Now look at what you’ve done!

            Niall’s face turned from concern, to doubt, to bliss.  And even though my heart was pounding and my palms were clammy, a smile took over my face that I could hardly contain.  And I didn’t want to contain it.  Niall’s smile was radiant and contagious and it felt good. 

            Granted, I still had no idea whether or not I loved him, but seeing him so happy made all the confusion worth it. 

            Then he took my head between his hands and gave me the most incredible kiss I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing.  It was everything put into one.  Passion, sweetness, hunger, romance.  I can’t tell you how it was all those at once, but I can tell you it turned me into jello.

            “Everything is perfect right now,” Niall murmured as he pulled away.  “Perfect girl.  Perfect friends.  Perfect career opportunity.  I wish I could capture this moment and save it forever.  With you.”

            That’s when I lost my mind.  Like, “Oh, shit.  Where did my mind go?”

            “Let’s go upstairs,” I heard myself telling him rather firmly.  Very assertive, Bailey.  That’s a new one.

            “Okay,” Niall said eagerly, though there was a question in his eyes.  If he was looking for answers through me, he was going to be sorely disappointed.  Because—you know my mind?—yeah I lost it. 

            Still in my aggressive state, I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs.  He was right on my heels as we poured into his room.  He slammed the door behind him, which could have posed a problem, but his aunt was blissfully absent once again.  Aggressive me pushed Niall onto the bed and then crawled conveniently gracefully on top of him.  Assertive me started to kiss him passionately while normal me seemed to be watching from a distance.  I admired the fact that I was taking control for once but I was also aware that I still had no fucking clue what I was doing. 

            Assertive me does not seem to care about such foolish things as experience and quickly started on the removal of Niall’s shirt.  I doubt Niall had a fucking clue what came over me but he was a willing participant, which was useful because I fumbled with his shirt.  And since Niall is too much of a gentleman to do so himself, I initiated the removal of my own shirt.  And since assertive me is a whore, I also may have reached around to take off my bra.

            I know!  I know

            Niall had copped a feel before because I’m not that big of a prude but this was the big unveiling.  Normal me was glad it was dark.

            I won’t go into too much detail, but let’s just say Niall knew exactly what to do with a topless girl.  And he did it quite well.  Even assertive me was not prepared for the teenage hormones that kick in during such a steamy time.  But assertive me was not done yet.  Oooooh, no!  Assertive me was feeling frisky.  But normal me was still reserved enough to at least take caution.

            I allowed normal me to talk some sense into assertive me as I continued to kiss Niall.  Kissing him allowed me time to think somewhat rationally.  So I made a quick break down of the situation in my head.  Niall and I were hot and heavy alone in a house with both of us topless.  Okay, those were the facts.  Now time to analyze it. 

            I loved Niall.  At least, my mouth claimed to love Niall, therefore, there must be a grain of truth to it.  Or I’m just a liar.  Either is plausible.  Now, Niall loves me.  Or he thinks he does.  I really do feel comfortable with him and I trust him completely.  He respects me and yadda yadda yadda. 

            The real question was: Do I want to have sex with him?

            Yes, my brain told me right away.

            But do I really?

            Yes, you really do.

            Is this a bad idea?

            No.

            Are you sure?

            Well, no.

            Very helpful.

            You know you want to.

            I also want to become a shark whisperer.

            That’s a good idea.  You’d be good at it.

            Shut up brain and focus!

            I am focused.  You need to focus.  Start by taking off his pants.

            I remove you from all plan making from henceforth on.

            I’m your fucking brain, stupid.

            Okay, you’re right!  I want to do this. But I don’t want it to be a wild hormonal adventure.  I want it to be special.

            Then make it special.

            How?

            Talk to him.

            Wouldn’t that ruin the moment?

            Isn’t that the point?  To not make it wild and hormonal?

            Excellent point.

            Okay, so this conversation with myself happened within a manner of seconds.  And I had a point.  I wanted this to be special.  If this was really going to happen, it had to be something more than a lapse in my sanity. 

            I pulled away from Niall’s lips and sighed.

            “You okay?” he asked.  His perfection made me want to throw caution to the wind and just rip off his clothes.

            “I love you,” I said quietly.  Even though I knowingly used it to manipulate the situation, it still warmed my heart when his eyes softened and he brushed hair out of my face.  He kissed me gently.

            “I love you, too.”

            I only felt slightly guilty when my plan worked.  The mood changed.  I think it says a lot about Niall as a person that he went from a girl literally throwing herself at him to a girl that was being sentimental and he didn’t even flinch.

            “I want to, Niall,” I said.  I gave him a look that I hoped was sweet and coy.  I wanted him to understand what I meant but I also wanted to ensure I maintained our new loving atmosphere.

            “But…” he prodded.

            “No but,” I shook my head.  “I want to.”

            He pursed his lips but his eyes lit up.  He kissed me gently again.

            “You don’t have to,” he reminded me.

            “I know.”

            “And we can stop whenever.”

            Do you see the perfect specimen of a man I deal with!?  How can any girl resist that?

            “Okay,” I smiled shyly.

            “Okay,” he whispered.  He started to kiss me very slowly and he turned us around so he was on top.  I waited for the panic to set in, for me to become so nervous that I fled the room shouting nonsense.  Instead I just felt…ready.  I felt appreciated and respected and loved.

            Every movement Niall made was slow and delicate.  Every touch was done expertly but with caution.  He didn’t want to make me uncomfortable but he also wanted me to enjoy every minute.

            Once again, I’m not going to go into too much detail.  At least not explicit detail.  But I will say that he made the entire experience about me.  He knew exactly how to get me ready, which is the nicest way I can put it.  He was generous and patient.  And after he got me ready, he reached somewhere behind my head and seemed to have conjured a condom out of thin air.  I’m not kidding.  I keep thinking about what was behind my head at the time and all I can think of is a headboard.  So…riddle me that. 

            Once I saw the condom, I waited for the panic again.  I was so far beyond the point of becoming panicked.  I was turned on and I was with a guy I loved and trusted.  If that’s not the perfect combination then I just don’t know what is. 

            Just so we’re clear, it hurt.  A lot.  It wasn’t like I felt like I was dying or I had to stop, but it did hurt.  I winced and Niall froze.

            “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah,” I gasped.  “Just…just go slow.”

            And he did.  After the initial shock of pain wore off, I distantly realized I was no longer a virgin. How weird is that?  How fucking weird is that?  There was a penis inside of me.  Can you believe that?  I can’t even believe that.  And since we’re discussing penises, it should be put on record that Niall is well endowed, which didn’t really help my first time.  But I’m sure I won’t be complaining after a few times.

            Okay, whoa.  TMI much?  Calm down, Bailey. 

            Besides, I am getting way off topic.

            Niall did all of the work.  Mostly because he had to.  What the hell did I know about sex?  And even though it hurt and my mind kept focusing in on specific points on Niall’s body—his glistening forehead, his cloudy eyes, the muscles in his back, his delectable mouth—I understood this whole sex in relationships thing.  I always imagined it just to be some release of sexual frustration that is fun and feels good.  And while that probably is the case a lot of the time, first and foremost, it really is an experience that brings you closer on an emotional level.  It was personal and romantic and everything I honestly thought sex would ever be.  I always assumed my first time would be awkward, taking after the rest of my life.  It wasn’t though.  It was just…just perfect.  Like Niall.

            I’m not sure how long we were at it—well, if we’re being fair, how long he was at it—before he let a particularly meaningful moan/grunt combination.  He gave me a long, lingering kiss before pulling out and lying down beside me.

            “How are you?” he asked.

            “Good,” I answered after a quick assessment.  “Great even.”  He smiled and reached out his hand to brush hair out of my face.  “How are you?”

            He laughed and kissed me again.

            “I’m fantastic,” he said.  He looked at me closely.  “So you’re okay?”

            “Yes,” I promised him.  “Perfect.  Just…just perfect.”

            “Me, too.”

            I could have melted into his bed right then.  I don’t care what I was thinking earlier, I definitely loved him.  How could I not?

            I was aware that I was one of those girls that is all like, “No, I won’t sleep with you.  I’m waiting for something special.  I’m waiting for the right guy,” and then as soon as a guy tells me he loves me I’m like, “Take me now.”

            And while, yes, it’s true that it just so happened I lost my virginity to Niall within an hour of him telling me he loves me, it’s not the same.  I feel like he does love me.  And I do love him.  And even though I have no fucking clue what love is and I could very well be kidding myself, I do know that sleeping with Niall was special.  And most of all, I didn’t regret it one bit.

            “Tired,” I mumbled, suddenly hit with the vast amount of overwhelming occurrences that day. I was emotionally and physically drained.

            “Let’s get some sleep,” Niall agreed.

            He pulled me closer to him so our naked bodies were cuddling.  I should have known that Niall was a cuddler.  You know, you’d think it would be kind of weird to cuddle naked, but it’s really not.  At least, not with Niall.

            So I fell asleep in his arms, perfectly content with my life.

            I woke up the next morning before he did.  I knew his aunt wasn’t home yet so I decided to be a perfect girlfriend and make him some breakfast.  Assertive me tossed my clothes haphazardly throughout the room so some key items of clothing were missing.  I was resourceful by slipping into my own underwear and pulling Niall’s shirt over my head.  I deemed myself the perfect ‘morning after’ girlfriend depicted in movies and headed downstairs.  I looked around in the pantry and fridge and decided nothing was safe enough to cook.  Instead I opted to make cereal.  I pulled out the box, bowl, milk, and spoon just as Niall was pattering downstairs.  And even though I knew exactly what I was doing when I got dressed, I still blushed when Niall whistled.

            “Breakfast awaits,” I said dramatically.

            Niall took one look at the cereal and burst out laughing.      

            “You shouldn’t have,” he beamed.

            “Hey, you’re worth it.”

            “You flatter me.”

            It was all very strategic.  I learned in the Notebook that men need to rejuvenate before going again and I was rather eager to, well, go again.  That’s probably why I stared at him the entire time he ate.

            “Jesus, would you eat faster?” I laughed.

            Niall was startled which I can understand.

            “Why?” he asked.

            I made a face that I hoped was suggestive and frisky.  I’m not sure I managed those exact expressions but it worked regardless because Niall pushed his unfinished cereal aside and jumped out of his chair. 

            We raced each other upstairs and laughed the whole way.

            The second time was just as perfect as the first. 

            Perfect, perfect, perfect.

            Perfect.

            After that, I told him my dad was probably worried about me.  He helped me locate my own clothes and then we spent about ten minutes kissing each other and telling each other we would see the other soon and smiling stupidly.  I finally forced myself out of the door and walked joyfully home.

            I half expected my dad to see right through me, like he would someone know his little girl had lost her virginity.  But as far as I could tell, he was just as oblivious as ever.

            So now I’m showered and on cloud nine.  I think I might call Camilla and Fiona soon.  They would love to hear this.  And I would love to talk about it with someone.  Maybe even get advice.

            Oh my god, I feel so grown up.  Sex advice from my friends.  And a boyfriend that I love (possibly) and lost my virginity to.

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