Note
This part comes specifically from a review @Bouncerok gave me
You wanted more couple moments, especially Niall and Amelia and I've tried my best to deliver
I hope you like this and leave me those lovely reviews
I love hearing from everyone and I'd take your wants of things you all would like to read in the story if possible with the plot
reviews please ;-;
xx enjoy xx
Where Love Lives
The villa's backyard was quiet under the blanket of night, the faint glow of the firepit casting flickering shadows on the group gathered around it. The earlier laughter and conversation had faded into a comfortable stillness as exhaustion claimed them one by one.
Harry and Louis were curled up together on a shared lounger, Louis's head tucked against Harry's chest. Niall had an arm draped over Amelia's shoulders as they leaned into each other, their quiet breaths syncing. Zayn and Liam sat side by side, Liam's head resting against Zayn's shoulder, their hands loosely intertwined.
The warmth of the fire kept the crisp Alpine air at bay, but the tranquility was deceptive—Zayn's mind refused to let him rest.
Zayn's Nightmare
The dream was vivid, pulling Zayn back into a memory he had buried deep.
They were in a cold, sterile room, seated across from each other at a long table. Liam's face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief as the sharp voices of the executives filled the space between them.
"This stops now," one of them said, their tone icy. "You're jeopardizing the brand, the image we've worked so hard to build."
"You can't do this," Liam said, his voice shaking. His fists clenched on the table, his knuckles white. "You can't control our lives like this."
"Oh, but we can," another voice replied smoothly. "We own the contracts. And if you don't comply, there will be consequences. For both of you. And for your families."
Zayn's heart pounded as he glanced at Liam, the anguish in his eyes tearing through him. "Liam," he started, his voice breaking, "I... I don't know what to do."
"You don't have to do anything," Liam said firmly, his voice louder now. "We'll fight this. Together."
"No, you won't," one of the executives snapped. "If this relationship doesn't end immediately, we'll destroy everything you care about. The band. Your careers. Your families. Is that what you want?"
Liam froze, his breath hitching as the weight of the threat sank in. He turned to Zayn, his voice barely a whisper. "They can't mean it. They wouldn't—"
"They would," Zayn said, his voice hollow.
The scene shifted, the cold room blurring into a hotel hallway. Zayn was standing at Liam's door, his hands trembling as he knocked. Liam opened it almost immediately, his face lighting up before falling as he took in Zayn's expression.
"What's wrong?" Liam asked, stepping forward.
Zayn couldn't look at him. "I can't do this anymore," he said, the words tumbling out like stones.
"What?" Liam's voice cracked. "What are you talking about?"
"They're right," Zayn said, forcing himself to meet Liam's eyes, even as his heart shattered. "This... us... it's not working. It's too much. We have to stop."
"Zayn, don't do this," Liam pleaded, his voice desperate. "Please. Don't let them win."
"I'm sorry," Zayn whispered, stepping back as Liam reached for him. "I'm so sorry."
"Zayn!"
The sound of his name echoed in the stillness, and Zayn jolted awake. His chest heaved, his breaths coming fast and shallow, and his hands clutched at the blanket covering him. The flickering firepit cast dancing shadows across his face, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his forehead. His dark eyes darted wildly around the group, struggling to separate the memory from the reality.
"Zayn," Liam's voice came again, softer now but still urgent. He had shifted closer, his hand firmly on Zayn's shoulder. His face was etched with concern, his brows drawn tight as he tried to catch Zayn's gaze. "Hey, it's me. You're okay. You're here. Just breathe."
Zayn's eyes finally locked onto Liam's, and something in his frantic breathing eased, though his chest still rose and fell rapidly. The world came into sharper focus—Liam's face, filled with worry; the gentle warmth of the firepit; the soft sounds of the others stirring nearby.
Liam leaned in closer, his voice calm but steady. "You're safe, Zee. It was just a dream. You're safe."
Zayn swallowed hard, his hands falling to his lap as he tried to ground himself. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "It wasn't... It wasn't just a dream. It was that day. That room."
Zayn's trembling voice and Liam's murmurs of reassurance stirred the others.
Louis blinked awake first, his tousled hair a chaotic mess as he sat up with a groggy groan. "What's going on?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. When his gaze landed on Zayn, his usual sharpness gave way to something softer. "Hey, mate, what's wrong?"
Harry stirred beside Louis, his hand brushing against his partner's arm as he pushed himself upright. His green eyes softened as they took in Zayn's state—his hunched shoulders, the way his hands clenched tightly around the blanket. "Zayn?" he asked gently, his voice low and careful. "Are you all right?"
On the other side of the firepit, Niall shifted, his arm slipping from Amelia's shoulders. She stirred as well, her gaze landing on Zayn and Liam. "What happened?" she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.
Liam glanced over his shoulder, his hand still firmly on Zayn's shoulder. "It was a nightmare," he explained quietly.
Harry frowned, leaning forward slightly. "Nightmare about what?"
Zayn didn't answer immediately. His hands trembled slightly as he clenched them together in his lap, his head bowed.
"It wasn't just a nightmare," Zayn finally said, his voice trembling. He lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed as he glanced around the group. "It was... everything. That day. That room. The things they said to us."
Liam tensed beside him, his own face pale. His hand tightened on Zayn's shoulder, his fingers curling slightly. "They didn't just say things," Liam murmured. "They gave us an ultimatum."
Louis, now fully awake, frowned deeply, his usual wit absent. "Wait," he said, his voice sharp. "What ultimatum?"
Zayn hesitated, his throat working as he swallowed hard. "They told us... that we had to end it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Or they'd end everything else."
"What do you mean, 'everything else'?" Niall asked, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.
"They threatened the band," Liam said quietly, his voice tight. "Our careers. Our families. They said if we didn't... if we didn't break it off, they'd take it all away."
Louis stared at them, his frown deepening as he tried to process their words. "You're telling me they forced you to break up?"
"They didn't leave us a choice," Zayn said, his voice cracking.
Harry glanced at Liam, his green eyes darkening. "You mean... they threatened you both?"
Liam nodded, his voice grim. "It wasn't just Zayn. They sat us both down and made it clear. If we didn't end it, they'd ruin everything. They made us feel like... like staying together would destroy the band. Like it would destroy everyone."
The weight of Zayn and Liam's revelation hung heavy in the air, the firepit crackling softly in the background. The words "forced to break up" and "threatened everything" echoed in everyone's minds, sparking waves of disbelief, anger, and sorrow.
Louis sat upright, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he tried to process what he had just heard. His usual sharp wit and quick tongue were nowhere to be found. Instead, his mind raced, replaying every interaction he'd had with Zayn and Liam back then—every fight, every cold glance, every awkward silence that he'd dismissed as "just Zayn being Zayn" or Liam overthinking things again.
They were dealing with this, and I didn't even see it* he thought, his jaw clenching so tightly it ached.
The firelight danced in his blue eyes as anger began to burn through the disbelief. Anger at the faceless executives who had used Zayn and Liam's love against them. Anger at himself for not noticing sooner. *How could I not have known? How could I not have fought harder for them?*
He glanced at Zayn, who was still leaning into Liam, his shoulders trembling. The vulnerability on Zayn's face was almost too much to bear. Louis swallowed hard, his voice breaking the silence. "This whole time," he said quietly, his tone laced with anger. "You two were going through this, and we just... carried on like nothing was wrong."
He shook his head, his voice tightening. "They took everything from you—your love, your trust—and we didn't even notice. We just let it happen."
Harry sat beside Louis, his usually bright green eyes dark and distant. He stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in his gaze as he tried to reconcile the two people he knew so well—Zayn, the guarded artist with a soft heart, and Liam, the ever-reliable glue of their group—with the broken, fragile versions of themselves they had revealed tonight.
He thought about the endless interviews, the carefully curated public image, the smiles that always seemed a little too perfect in hindsight. *They were falling apart, and we just played along like everything was fine* he realized, his stomach twisting.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket draped over his lap. He wanted to say something—to apologize, to offer comfort—but the words felt hollow in his throat. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on Zayn's knee, his voice soft but firm. "They did this to all of us," he said. "But what they did to you two... it's unforgivable."
Niall's usual lighthearted demeanor had vanished, replaced by a stunned, almost numb silence. He stared at Zayn and Liam, his brows furrowed deeply as the full weight of their words settled over him.
They threatened them. They threatened their families. They tore them apart* he thought, his chest tightening with a mix of disbelief and sorrow.
He replayed countless memories in his head—Zayn's sudden withdrawal during late-night sessions, Liam's strained smiles during interviews. He'd chalked it up to the pressure of fame, never imagining the depths of what they were enduring.
"They didn't leave you with a choice," he said finally, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "They didn't give you a way out."
His hand tightened around Amelia's as he continued. "I hate that we didn't see it. That we didn't fight for you when you couldn't fight for yourselves."
Amelia sat frozen beside Niall, her hand gripping his like a lifeline as she listened to Zayn and Liam's halting, tearful explanations. The sheer horror of what she was hearing sent chills down her spine.
They were just boys* she thought, her stomach twisting. *Barely out of their teens, and these people threatened their entire lives—everything they cared about—just to maintain some perfect image.*
She glanced around the group, her heart sinking further as she realized how calmly everyone else was taking the revelation. Not because they weren't affected, but because they had grown so used to this kind of manipulation. *They've normalized it* she realized, her throat tightening. *They've spent so long in this world that they don't even question how wrong it is.*
Her voice broke through the silence, trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "This is... this is horrific," she said, her eyes darting between Zayn and Liam. "And the fact that you're all just... taking it in stride—it's not normal. None of this is normal."
The boys glanced at her, their expressions a mix of guilt and understanding.
"It's not normal," she repeated, her tone firm despite the tears in her eyes. "What they did to you—it's cruel. It's... inhumane." She turned to Niall, her voice cracking. "How did they live with this for so long without breaking?"
Niall reached for her hand again, his own trembling slightly as he laced their fingers together. "We didn't have a choice," he said softly. "We just... kept going. It was the only thing we could do."
Zayn's voice broke the silence that followed, quiet but resolute. "We broke," he said simply, glancing at Liam. "We just didn't let anyone see it."
Amelia's chest ached at the rawness of his words, but before she could speak, Liam turned to Zayn, cupping the back of his neck gently.
"You don't have to hide it anymore," Liam said, his voice thick with emotion. "Not from me. Not from any of us."
Zayn exhaled shakily, leaning into Liam's touch. The firelight caught the tears that slipped down his cheeks as he nodded, his voice trembling. "I know."
The group fell into a heavy silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. Harry reached over and placed a hand on Louis's, grounding him. Niall squeezed Amelia's hand, his gaze flicking between Zayn and Liam with quiet determination.
"They don't control the story anymore," Harry said finally, his voice steady.
"They don't control us," Louis added, his blue eyes blazing.
Amelia, still reeling, let out a shaky breath. "And they never will again," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
The words settled over the group like a promise, unspoken but deeply felt.
The sunlight streamed through the villa's wide windows, illuminating the living room with a soft golden hue. The faint smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the muffled sounds of breakfast preparation from the kitchen.
Harry sat on the couch, his curls still slightly tousled from sleep. A loose T-shirt draped over his broad shoulders, the neckline slipping slightly to reveal his collarbone. His long legs were propped up casually, one ankle resting over the other, and in his hands was a newspaper. He read quietly, his brow furrowed as he scanned the headlines.
Louis entered the room barefoot, wearing a hoodie that was obviously Harry's, given the way it hung loose on his smaller frame. He yawned, stretching dramatically before sauntering over to the couch. With his hands shoved in the hoodie's front pocket, he leaned over Harry's shoulder, peering at the newspaper.
"God, you're such an old man," Louis teased, his voice still slightly husky from sleep. "Who even reads newspapers anymore?"
Harry didn't look up, though a small smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Some of us like to stay informed," he replied coolly. "Not everyone's morning revolves around Twitter conspiracy theories."
Louis gasped theatrically and pulled back, his hand pressed over his heart. "Conspiracy theories? Excuse you, Harold. My Twitter habit is what keeps us culturally relevant."
Finally, Harry glanced up from the paper, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Culturally relevant, is it? How's that working out for you?"
"Oh, better than whatever this is," Louis retorted, gesturing to the newspaper. "You're not even reading it properly, are you? Just staring at it to look intelligent."
Harry raised a brow, setting the paper down on his lap. "Do you have a point, or are you just here to distract me?"
Louis grinned, climbing onto the couch and settling himself beside Harry. "Distracting you *is* the point," he said smugly, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder.
--
The teasing quickly escalated as Louis reached over and plucked the newspaper from Harry's lap, tossing it onto the floor.
"Oi!" Harry protested, though his lips twitched upward.
"Better things to focus on," Louis said, leaning closer. His breath was warm against Harry's neck, and when he nipped lightly at his ear, Harry sighed, his resolve crumbling.
"Louis," Harry murmured, his voice half a warning, half a plea.
"Shutting you up," Louis quipped, his grin widening before he pressed their mouths together in a firm kiss.
Harry melted into it almost immediately, his hands sliding to Louis's waist as the kiss deepened. Louis shifted, swinging a leg over Harry's lap to straddle him. His hands moved to tangle in Harry's curls, pulling him closer as the kiss grew hungrier.
Harry groaned softly, tilting his head to give Louis better access. "You're ridiculous," he muttered against Louis's lips.
"And you love it," Louis whispered back, his voice breathy as he nipped at Harry's bottom lip.
Harry's grip on Louis's waist tightened, pulling him flush against him. Louis smirked into the kiss, his hips rolling slightly, eliciting a low sound from Harry that sent heat flooding through the room.
"Louis," Harry said again, his tone more urgent this time, though his hands betrayed him as they slid under the hem of Louis's hoodie to splay against the bare skin of his back.
Louis leaned back slightly, his cheeks flushed and his blue eyes dark with mischief. "What? Can't handle it, Styles?" he teased, his lips brushing against Harry's as he spoke.
"Cheeky," Harry murmured, pulling him back in for another kiss.
The heat between them escalated, their movements becoming more insistent. Louis's hips moved against Harry's, and Harry's head tilted back against the couch as a soft groan escaped him. The kiss turned messier, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other.
--
"Really?"
The sharp voice cut through the haze, and Harry froze instantly, his eyes wide with horror. Louis, still seated firmly in his lap, turned his head toward the doorway, his lips red and slightly swollen from the intensity of their kiss.
Anne stood there, a tray of tea in her hands and a raised brow on her face. Her expression was a perfect mixture of exasperation and amusement.
"On the couch?" she said, her voice dripping with dry humor. "Where people *sit*?"
Harry groaned, his face going beet red as he buried it in Louis's shoulder. "Mum," he muttered, his voice muffled and mortified.
Louis, in stark contrast, grinned cheekily, making no effort to move from his spot. "Morning, Anne," he said brightly. "Tea smells lovely."
Anne set the tray down on the coffee table, shaking her head. "You'd think I raised you with better manners," she said, her tone scolding but light.
Harry peeked out from behind Louis, his cheeks still flaming. "We were just—"
"Don't," Anne interrupted, holding up a hand. "Whatever you were doing, I don't want to know. But kindly refrain from traumatizing the furniture."
Louis snickered, finally sliding off Harry's lap. He leaned over to straighten Harry's T-shirt, his grin never wavering. "We'll behave," he said, though the glint in his eye suggested otherwise.
"Behave somewhere else," Anne replied, picking up her tea with a sigh.
As Harry and Louis left the room, Anne shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Boys," she muttered to herself, taking a sip of tea.
The Alpine morning was still, the crisp air carrying the faint scent of pine. Sunlight bathed the villa's balcony in a soft, golden glow, but the beauty of the view was lost on Liam. He stood at the railing, staring out over the mountains, his thoughts a jumbled mess. His tea had long gone cold in his hands, the steam vanishing along with any sense of peace from the previous night.
The creak of the balcony door pulled him from his reverie. Bare feet padded softly across the wood until familiar arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back into a solid warmth.
Zayn rested his chin on Liam's shoulder, his voice husky from sleep. "You're brooding again."
Liam exhaled softly, leaning back into Zayn's embrace. "Not brooding. Thinking."
"You think too much," Zayn murmured, brushing a light kiss to the curve of Liam's neck.
Liam tilted his head instinctively, giving Zayn more access. "I can't help it," he admitted quietly. "It's all just... too much sometimes."
Zayn's lips lingered on Liam's skin as his arms tightened around him. "You don't have to figure it out all at once," he said softly. "And you don't have to do it alone."
Liam turned in Zayn's arms, his gaze meeting his with a vulnerability that made Zayn's chest ache. "I don't know what I'd do without you," Liam admitted, his voice raw.
Zayn reached up, brushing his fingers along Liam's cheek. "You'll never have to find out," he replied, his voice low and steady.
--
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions, until Liam leaned forward, capturing Zayn's lips in a kiss that started slowly but quickly deepened. Zayn responded immediately, his fingers sliding into Liam's hair as their mouths moved together with increasing urgency.
Liam pressed Zayn back against the balcony railing, his hands traveling under Zayn's T-shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. Zayn gasped softly into the kiss, his grip tightening on Liam's shoulders. "Liam," he breathed, his voice trembling as their bodies pressed closer.
"You don't know how much I've missed this," Liam murmured, his lips trailing along Zayn's jaw before finding the sensitive spot below his ear. Zayn's head tipped back, a low moan escaping him as Liam kissed and nipped at his neck.
Zayn tugged at the hem of Liam's shirt, his fingers trembling as he worked to pull it over his head. Liam helped, the fabric quickly discarded onto the floor of the balcony. Zayn's eyes roved over him, darkened with desire as his hands moved to trace the lines of Liam's chest.
Liam smirked, his hands slipping under Zayn's T-shirt to pull it off in one swift motion. The cool morning air kissed their bare skin, but the heat between them burned hotter. Liam pressed their bodies flush together, groaning softly as the friction sent sparks racing through him.
Zayn's hands found their way to Liam's waist, pulling him closer as his lips captured Liam's again. The kiss was wild now—messy, desperate, filled with unspoken need. Zayn's nails scraped lightly against Liam's back, drawing a low growl from him that sent a shiver down Zayn's spine.
Their hips moved in sync, the intensity growing with each passing second. Liam's hand slid down to Zayn's thigh, gripping it firmly as he pressed him harder against the railing. "God, I've wanted this," Liam muttered against Zayn's lips.
Zayn's breath hitched, his voice trembling. "Then don't stop."
--
"Wow. Don't mind me."
The voice broke through the haze like a cold slap, and both men froze mid-kiss. Their heavy breathing filled the silence as they turned toward the doorway, still pressed closely together.
Gigi stood there, leaning against the frame with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. Her brow was raised, and her lips twitched with poorly concealed amusement.
"Do I need to get a spray bottle?" she teased, her gaze flicking to their discarded shirts on the balcony floor. "You know there's a whole villa with actual rooms, right?"
Zayn groaned, his head dropping onto Liam's shoulder. "Really, Gigi?" he muttered, his voice muffled.
"Yes, really," she shot back, smirking. "I mean, I've seen a lot, but this might be the first time I've walked in on you trying to recreate a *romance novel cover* at nine in the morning."
Liam flushed deeply, his hands fumbling to grab their discarded shirts. "We didn't think anyone was up yet," he mumbled, his voice mortified.
Gigi sipped her coffee leisurely, her smirk never fading. "Clearly. Just... maybe think about the poor furniture next time?"
Zayn finally lifted his head, glaring at her half-heartedly. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Not really," she said breezily. "But I'll leave you two lovebirds to... whatever this is." She waved her coffee mug at them before turning back inside. "Oh, and Zayn? Maybe put a shirt on before Anne walks out here. I'd hate to see her faint."
--
As the door clicked shut behind her, Liam let out a breathy laugh, still clutching their shirts. "That's one way to kill the mood."
Zayn ran a hand through his hair, his lips twitching into a reluctant smirk. "She's never going to let this go."
"Nope," Liam agreed, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Zayn's temple. "But worth it."
Zayn's smile softened as he tugged his shirt back on, his gaze lingering on Liam. "Yeah. Definitely worth it."
The frustration of being interrupted lingered in the air, but as their eyes met again, a silent promise passed between them: there would be other moments.
"Come on," Liam said, his voice warm. "Let's head inside before someone else catches us."
"Or Gigi comes back with an actual spray bottle," Zayn muttered, making Liam laugh as they gathered their things and headed back into the villa, hand in hand.
—--
The kitchen was alive with the warmth of morning sunlight streaming through the large windows, casting golden patterns on the countertops. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the faint aroma of batter and sizzling bacon, setting the perfect domestic scene. But for Niall and Amelia, the air crackled with something far less serene.
Amelia stood at the counter, rolling out pancake batter with precise, practiced movements. Flour dusted her cheeks and hair, a faint smudge marking her forehead. Across from her, Niall attempted to manage the stovetop, balancing a pan of eggs in one hand and flipping bacon with the other. His smile was irrepressible, the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes growing brighter every time Amelia glanced his way.
"You know," Amelia said, her voice teasing, "you're terrible at this. How are you managing to spill salt and flip bacon at the same time?"
Niall smirked, setting down the pan with an exaggerated flourish. "Ah, but that's my charm, love. Chaos and a sprinkle of magic." He crossed to her side, leaning casually against the counter as he inspected her work. "And you've got a bit of flour there," he added, his fingers reaching out to brush at her temple.
"Here?" Amelia asked, brushing at the wrong spot.
"No, no," Niall murmured, his grin fading into something softer as his hand lingered against her cheek. "Here."
He stepped closer, brushing the flour from her face before cupping her jaw, his thumb lightly grazing her skin. Amelia froze, her breath catching as their eyes met, the teasing air between them shifting into something heavier, more electric.
--
Niall's gaze flicked to her lips, and before either of them could think twice, he leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. Amelia sighed into it, her hands bracing against his chest before sliding upward, clutching at his shirt to pull him closer.
The kiss turned frantic, their movements losing all pretense of restraint. Niall backed her against the counter, his hands finding her waist as his lips moved insistently against hers. "God," he muttered between kisses, his voice low and rough, "you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this."
Amelia let out a breathy laugh, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Pretty sure I do," she replied, her voice trembling slightly.
Niall's lips moved to her jawline, trailing kisses down the column of her neck. Amelia tilted her head back, giving him better access as a soft moan escaped her. "Niall," she murmured, her grip on him tightening.
He hummed against her skin, his teeth grazing lightly before sucking at the sensitive spot just below her ear. Amelia shivered as he worked, the sensation sending heat pooling low in her stomach. "Missed this," Niall murmured, his voice muffled against her neck.
His hands slid down to her hips, gripping them firmly as he pressed her against the counter. The hard edge bit into her back, but the ache was overshadowed by the fire coursing through her veins. Amelia tugged at his shirt, her nails scraping lightly against his skin as his kisses grew hungrier, more desperate.
When Niall pulled back slightly, it was only to inspect the faint mark blooming on her neck. A smirk tugged at his lips before he dove back in, leaving another, darker hickey just below the first.
"Niall," Amelia gasped, half-protest, half-encouragement.
"What?" he teased, his voice low and breathless. "Looks good on you."
"You're impossible," she replied, her voice trembling as his lips found her collarbone.
"And you love it," he shot back, his hands slipping under her shirt to rest against the bare skin of her waist.
--
The moment shattered as the kitchen door burst open. Daisy and Phoebe stumbled in, their giggles breaking the charged silence.
"Aww," Daisy sing-songed, her grin wide as she took in the scene. "Are we interrupting something?"
Phoebe snickered, leaning against the doorframe. "You call this cooking?"
Amelia flushed a deep crimson, her hands flying up to her neck to cover the blooming marks as she scrambled to slide off the counter. "We were just—uh—making pancakes," she stammered, her voice cracking slightly.
"Sure you were," Daisy teased, her tone dripping with mischief. "And what's that? A new recipe for... hickeys?"
Niall groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he turned to face the twins. "You've ruined the moment. Again," he muttered, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.
Phoebe shrugged, her grin unrepentant. "You're the one who keeps getting caught."
--
As Daisy and Phoebe retreated, still giggling, Amelia let out a groan, burying her face in her hands. "I'm never going to hear the end of this," she muttered.
Niall chuckled, stepping closer to wrap his arms around her waist. "Don't worry about them," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "They're just jealous."
"Jealous of what?" Amelia asked, her voice muffled as she peeked up at him through her fingers. "Your inability to focus on breakfast?"
"Jealous of how ridiculously good-looking I am," Niall replied with a wink, earning a laugh from Amelia despite her lingering embarrassment.
He returned to the stove, grabbing a spatula and flipping the neglected pancakes with exaggerated precision. "There," he said, turning to her with a smirk. "Crisis averted. Sort of."
Amelia rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "You're lucky I love you," she said, brushing flour off her hands.
"Luckiest man alive," Niall replied, his grin softening as he leaned in to kiss her again. This time, it was brief and sweet—a quiet promise for later.
The morning sun cast a warm glow over the villa's sprawling backyard, the crisp air carrying the sound of laughter and the soft crunch of footsteps on grass. The group had spilled out into the open space after breakfast, drawn into Freddie's enthusiastic mission to stage a football match.
Freddie darted ahead of everyone, a small football tucked under his arm like a seasoned captain ready to lead his team. "Dad! Uncle Harry! You're on my team!" he declared, his grin wide and confident.
Louis crouched slightly, meeting his son's eager gaze with a mock-serious nod. "You got it, Captain Freddie. What's the plan?"
Freddie tilted his head in thought before pointing at Harry. "Uncle Harry distracts the other team by being bad, and you score all the goals!"
Harry groaned, slinging an arm around Louis's shoulders. "Why am I always the distraction?" he muttered, though his green eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Because you're terrible at football," Louis quipped, smirking as Harry shoved him lightly.
"I'll show you terrible," Harry replied, laughing as he ruffled Freddie's hair.
Freddie placed the ball in the center of the makeshift field and kicked off with a dramatic flourish. Louis immediately seized control of the ball, dribbling around Freddie with exaggerated skill.
"Tomlinson's got the ball!" Louis narrated loudly, weaving around Freddie as the boy giggled and tried to tackle him. "He's unstoppable! He's... *oh no!*"
Freddie dove in, stealing the ball and sending it rolling toward the makeshift goal. "Goal!" he shouted, throwing his arms in the air.
Harry clapped, pretending to look defeated. "Well done, mate. That was all you," he said, earning a beaming grin from Freddie.
"You let him score!" Louis accused, planting his hands on his hips.
Harry shrugged, grinning. "What can I say? I'm a team player."
--
Zayn and Liam wandered out from the patio, drawn by the sound of Freddie's triumphant cheers. Zayn had Khai balanced on his hip, the toddler babbling happily as she pointed at the ball. Liam, holding Bear's hand, walked a bit slower, his gait still cautious as he recovered.
Freddie spotted them immediately and waved. "Uncle Zayn! Uncle Liam! Come play!"
Zayn hesitated, glancing at Liam. "Maybe we'll just watch," he said, his gaze flicking to Liam's injured leg.
Liam smiled down at Bear, ruffling his hair. "Not a chance. We're joining."
"Dad, are you sure?" Bear asked, his small face scrunching in concern.
Liam crouched down to meet his son's eyes. "I'm sure, buddy. I'll be the goalie. That's an easy job, right?"
Bear nodded hesitantly, clutching Liam's hand tighter.
Zayn sighed, shaking his head but smiling as he set Khai down gently. "Fine, but I'm taking these two," he said, gesturing to Bear and Khai. "We're forming our own dream team."
--
Bear and Khai teamed up with Zayn, who crouched down to guide their kicks. "Nice and easy," he said, showing Khai how to position her foot. "Just tap it toward the goal."
Khai's first kick sent the ball rolling toward Liam, who dove dramatically to block it, earning cheers from Freddie and laughter from the adults on the sidelines. "She's a natural!" Liam exclaimed, pretending to shake his fists in defeat.
Bear tried next, his little legs swinging hard at the ball. It moved barely an inch, but Zayn clapped enthusiastically. "That's it, mate! You've got a killer kick!"
Freddie, meanwhile, was determined to score again. He raced past Harry, who made an exaggerated show of tripping over nothing. "Oh no! Freddie's too fast!" Harry cried, collapsing onto the grass as Freddie scored another goal.
Louis scooped Freddie into his arms, spinning him around. "You're unstoppable!" he declared, peppering kisses on his son's cheeks as Freddie giggled uncontrollably.
--
From the patio, Cheryl and Gigi sat side by side, sipping coffee and watching the chaos with fond smiles.
"Liam looks... different, doesn't he?" Cheryl murmured, her gaze lingering on her co-parent as he played goalie.
Gigi nodded, her own eyes fixed on Zayn, who was holding Khai's hands as she tried to kick the ball. "He does," she agreed softly. "And Zayn... I haven't seen him this lighthearted in years."
Anne joined them, chuckling as she watched Harry pretend to faint when Freddie ran circles around him. "They're like big kids themselves," she said, shaking her head.
Karen smiled warmly as she leaned back in her chair. "I think that's why the kids love them so much. There's no wall between them. They just... fit."
--
The game came to an end when Freddie scored the final goal, darting past a dramatically flailing Liam.
"You win, mate!" Liam declared, clutching his chest as he fell to the ground. "You've defeated me!"
Freddie laughed triumphantly, raising his arms in victory as Louis swept him up again. "That's my boy," Louis said, kissing the top of his head.
Zayn picked up Khai, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she clapped her hands excitedly. Bear clung to Liam's arm, babbling about his favorite part of the game.
As the group collapsed onto the grass, breathless and grinning, the joy of the moment settled over them like a warm blanket. It wasn't just a game—it was a reminder of the love and connection that had brought them all here, and the family they'd built together.
As the football game wound down, the group migrated toward the villa's sun-drenched patio. The air buzzed with the lingering excitement of Freddie's victory, but it wasn't long before the younger kids turned their attention to something else entirely: a colorful array of art supplies laid out on a large table.
Gigi and Cheryl had set up the station earlier in the morning—bright pots of paint, sheets of paper, brushes, and even a few smocks for the children. The promise of creativity quickly lured Bear and Khai to the table, their eyes lighting up at the prospect of making a mess.
"Come on, let's paint!" Bear exclaimed, tugging Liam's hand eagerly.
Khai toddled up to the table, reaching for a brush before Gigi gently intercepted. "Hold on, love," Gigi said, her tone warm. "Let's get you a smock first. Don't want to ruin your pretty dress."
--
Bear, wearing a bright blue smock, immediately dipped his brush into the closest pot of paint—an intense red—and began swirling it on the paper with a determined expression. "Look, Mum!" he said, holding up his masterpiece-in-progress to Cheryl, who smiled warmly.
"It's beautiful, darling," Cheryl said, crouching down to his level. "What's it going to be?"
"A dragon," Bear replied confidently, even though the paper looked more like a collection of colorful blobs.
Khai, meanwhile, focused intently as Zayn helped her with handprint art. "Okay, ready?" Zayn said, gently guiding her tiny hand into a pot of yellow paint. She giggled as the cool, gooey texture spread across her palm.
"Now press it here," Zayn said, guiding her hand onto the paper. She squealed with delight when she lifted her hand to reveal the bright print.
"You're a natural, Khai," Zayn said, smiling as he kissed the top of her head.
--
Niall wandered over from the kitchen, munching on a piece of toast. "What's going on here?" he asked, his grin widening as he took in the colorful mess.
"Art," Cheryl replied, gesturing to the table. "Want to join in?"
"Don't mind if I do," Niall said, dropping into a chair. He reached for a brush, but Bear immediately handed him a pot of green paint instead. "Use this one. It's the best color."
"Yes, sir," Niall replied with a mock salute. He dipped his finger into the paint and smeared it across the paper in a zigzag, earning giggles from Bear and Khai.
Within minutes, Niall had abandoned the brushes entirely, opting to use his hands instead. "This is how real artists do it," he said, smearing streaks of orange and blue across the paper. A streak of paint ended up on his cheek when Bear mimicked him, and before long, it was clear the painting session had devolved into a free-for-all.
--
Zayn, still guiding Khai with her handprints, watched the chaos unfold with a bemused expression. He turned back to his daughter just in time to catch her smearing green paint across her own cheek.
"You're supposed to paint the paper, not yourself, love," Zayn said, chuckling softly as he wiped her face with a cloth.
Liam, standing nearby, seized the moment. Grabbing a brush, he dipped it into a pot of red paint and leaned over, dabbing a streak onto Zayn's nose.
Zayn blinked, startled, before narrowing his eyes at Liam. "Oh, you think you're funny, do you?" he asked, his voice dry but laced with amusement.
Liam smirked, his brown eyes twinkling. "A little bit, yeah."
Khai clapped her hands, clearly approving of the playful exchange. Zayn sighed dramatically before reaching for a nearby brush. "Two can play at that game, Payne."
With a quick flick, Zayn left a smear of blue paint across Liam's cheek, earning a rare laugh from him.
--
From the sidelines, Gigi and Cheryl watched the scene unfold with fond smiles.
"Look at them," Gigi said, her voice soft. "He's so good with her. With all of them, really."
Cheryl nodded, her gaze lingering on Liam as he laughed. "I've never seen him like this before," she admitted. "It's... it's good to see him letting himself enjoy the moment."
Anne, joining them with a cup of tea in hand, chuckled as she watched Niall end up with streaks of paint across his arms and hair. "They're just as messy as the kids," she said.
Karen, seated beside her, smiled warmly. "That's what makes it fun."
--
By the time the painting session wound down, the table was covered in colorful creations—and the participants were covered in paint. Bear proudly held up his finished "dragon," while Khai waved her sheet of yellow and blue handprints like a flag.
Zayn and Liam exchanged paint-smeared smiles, the earlier tension between them now replaced with lightness. Niall, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, grinning as Amelia appeared with a wet cloth. "What happened to you?" she asked, laughing as she wiped paint from his face.
"Art," Niall replied dramatically, earning another laugh.
As the group gathered their messy masterpieces and headed inside, the patio was left in a state of beautiful chaos—a colorful reminder of the joy they'd shared that morning.
The garden was bathed in golden sunlight, a serene contrast to the electricity crackling between Zayn and Liam as they walked toward a quiet corner near the stone wall. The faint hum of conversation from inside the villa faded into the background, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds to fill the silence.
Liam leaned back against the wall, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked out at the sprawling greenery. Zayn followed, his dark eyes never leaving Liam's face. There was something simmering just beneath the surface—an unspoken tension that had been building all day.
"You're quiet," Zayn said softly, stepping closer.
Liam tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Just... thinking."
Zayn reached out, brushing his fingers against Liam's jaw. "Still carrying it all, aren't you?"
Liam's smile faded slightly, and he nodded. "Old habits die hard."
Zayn's thumb traced the line of Liam's jaw, his touch grounding. "Let me help, then," he murmured.
Liam looked at him, his brown eyes softening. "You always do."
--
Zayn closed the remaining distance between them, his hand sliding to the back of Liam's neck as he leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss that started slow, but the weight of the past weeks and the simmering frustration between them quickly turned it into something deeper.
Liam responded eagerly, his hands gripping Zayn's waist and pulling him closer. The warmth of Zayn's body against his own sent a shiver down his spine, and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss as his fingers bunched in the fabric of Zayn's shirt.
Zayn groaned softly, his hands moving to Liam's chest before sliding up to cup his face. "You drive me mad, you know that?" he muttered against Liam's lips, his voice rough.
Liam chuckled, his breath hitching as Zayn nipped at his bottom lip. "Me? You're the one who's been teasing me all day."
Zayn's lips trailed from Liam's mouth to his jaw, then down to the sensitive spot just below his ear. "Teasing you?" Zayn whispered, his breath warm against Liam's skin. "You've got it backward, love."
Liam let out a quiet moan as Zayn sucked lightly at his neck, his knees nearly buckling when Zayn bit down just enough to leave a mark.
"Zayn," Liam murmured, his voice trembling. "We shouldn't—"
"Shouldn't what?" Zayn cut him off, his hands slipping under Liam's shirt to splay against the bare skin of his back. "This?" He pressed closer, their hips aligning, drawing a soft gasp from Liam. "Or this?"
Liam couldn't answer. His head fell back against the wall as Zayn's lips returned to his neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to his collarbone. His hands clutched at Zayn's shoulders, his breathing uneven as Zayn's touch ignited every nerve in his body.
--
Zayn tugged at Liam's shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one swift motion. He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as they roved over Liam's chest.
"You're gorgeous," Zayn said, his voice low and almost reverent.
Liam flushed under the intensity of Zayn's gaze, but he didn't have time to respond before Zayn was on him again, their mouths colliding in a kiss that was all heat and desperation.
Liam's hands found the hem of Zayn's shirt, pulling it up and discarding it carelessly to the side. The cool air kissed their exposed skin, but the heat between them burned hotter.
Zayn pressed Liam harder against the wall, his lips returning to the sensitive spots he knew would make Liam shudder. His hands roamed freely, tracing the lines of Liam's body with a mix of familiarity and rediscovery.
Liam's fingers tangled in Zayn's hair, pulling him closer as their hips moved together in a rhythm that left them both breathless.
--
"Wow. Should we come back later?"
The voice startled them both, breaking through the haze like a bucket of cold water. Liam's head snapped up, his face flushed and his chest heaving. Zayn froze, his lips still hovering over Liam's collarbone as they turned toward the sound.
Harry stood a few feet away, one hand over his eyes while the other rested on Louis's shoulder. Louis, of course, was grinning unabashedly.
"Don't stop on our account," Louis said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Really, it's quite the show."
"Or, you know," Harry added, peeking through his fingers, "maybe get a room?"
Zayn groaned, his forehead dropping to Liam's shoulder. "This is a joke," he muttered, his voice muffled.
Liam laughed breathlessly, his hands still resting on Zayn's waist. "You did say we'd get caught," he reminded him.
"Shut up," Zayn grumbled, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward.
—-
As Harry and Louis turned to leave, Louis called over his shoulder, "Try the pantry next time. It's more private."
Harry added with a grin, "But maybe leave the shirts on."
—-
The garden felt like its own world—isolated and cocooned in the warm sunlight, the perfect cover for the heat building between Zayn and Liam. Despite the interruption, neither man moved to leave. Instead, they stayed locked in the charged bubble of their moment, breaths mingling, hearts pounding.
Zayn met Liam's gaze, a smirk playing on his lips as his fingers traced a lazy path down Liam's chest. "Think we should stop?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Liam's eyes darkened, his hands sliding up Zayn's bare arms to rest on his shoulders. "Not a chance," he replied, his voice rough. He tugged Zayn back in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was even more desperate than before.
--
Zayn growled softly as their mouths collided, his hands gripping Liam's hips and pulling him flush against him. Their bodies aligned perfectly, the friction igniting a fire that neither seemed willing to extinguish. Liam gasped against Zayn's lips, his fingers fisting in Zayn's hair as he tried to pull him even closer.
Zayn's lips trailed from Liam's mouth to his jawline, then down his neck. "You're too perfect," he murmured against Liam's skin, his breath hot as he pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive column of Liam's throat.
"Zayn," Liam groaned, his head falling back against the stone wall as Zayn's teeth grazed the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. The soft scrape sent a jolt of pleasure through him, and his hands slid down to Zayn's waist, gripping tightly.
Zayn smirked against Liam's neck, his tongue flicking over the spot he'd just bitten. "Told you I'd leave marks," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction.
Liam let out a breathless laugh, his hands tugging Zayn even closer. "Fair's fair," he muttered before leaning in, his lips finding Zayn's neck. He sucked lightly at first, testing, until Zayn's soft groan urged him to go further.
Liam nipped at Zayn's skin, his kisses turning rougher as he left his own trail of marks along Zayn's neck and collarbone. Zayn shivered, his hands sliding down to Liam's thighs as their bodies rocked together in perfect sync.
--
Zayn's hands wandered lower, gripping Liam's hips and guiding him into a slow grind that made both of them gasp. Liam's head fell forward, his forehead pressing against Zayn's as he muttered a string of curses under his breath.
"Zayn," he groaned, his hands clutching at Zayn's back. The friction between them was maddening, the slow roll of their hips leaving Liam breathless.
"Feel good?" Zayn asked, his voice husky as he ground against Liam again.
"Too good," Liam admitted, his tone raw. "God, you're driving me crazy."
Zayn chuckled, though the sound was shaky. "Right back at you, love."
They moved together, the intensity of their grinding leaving both of them trembling. Liam's hands roamed Zayn's body, memorizing every muscle, every curve, as if he couldn't get enough. Zayn's fingers dug into Liam's waist, leaving faint impressions on his skin as their movements grew more frantic.
--
Liam pulled back slightly, his chest heaving as he surveyed Zayn. His dark hair was a mess, his lips were swollen, and his neck and collarbone were dotted with red marks. "You look ruined," Liam said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips despite his ragged breathing.
"Speak for yourself," Zayn shot back, his eyes gleaming. He ran his thumb along the fresh hickey blooming at the base of Liam's throat, smirking when Liam shivered. "You're going to have a hard time covering that up."
Liam grinned, leaning in to brush his lips against Zayn's. "I don't care," he murmured. "Let them see."
Zayn's lips twitched into a satisfied smile, but the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment.
--
"Not again," Liam muttered, his head dropping against Zayn's shoulder as Harry and Louis rounded the corner once more.
"Seriously?" Harry said, his hand flying to cover his eyes. "Do you two ever stop?"
Louis, grinning wickedly, stepped closer, ignoring Liam's glare. "Quite the show," he quipped, his blue eyes twinkling. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted to be caught."
"Go away, Louis," Zayn said flatly, though the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed him.
Harry peeked through his fingers, his grin widening. "I mean, I'm impressed. But yeah, maybe take it inside next time?"
Louis wagged his brows, smirking. "Unless you're trying to one-up us, in which case, good luck."
--
As Harry and Louis walked off, still laughing, Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're never going to hear the end of this, are we?"
"Nope," Zayn replied, his smirk returning as he tugged Liam close for one final kiss. "Worth it, though."
Liam's grin softened, his fingers brushing Zayn's cheek. "Always."
With their hands intertwined and faint smirks playing on their lips, they finally made their way back toward the villa, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.
The villa had quieted into the soft hum, but Harry's steps were purposeful as he led Louis toward the pantry. There was a mischievous glint in his green eyes, and Louis followed, his brow raised skeptically.
"You're up to something," Louis said, his lips twitching into a smirk.
Harry glanced over his shoulder, his curls falling into his eyes as he grinned. "Maybe. You'll find out soon enough."
Louis snorted, leaning casually against the pantry doorframe. "You're terrible at being mysterious, you know that?"
Harry didn't reply. Instead, as soon as Louis stepped inside, he grabbed him by the waist and spun him around, pressing him against the shelves. His hands settled firmly on Louis's hips, and his grin turned wicked.
"Harry—" Louis started, but Harry cut him off with a kiss.
--
The kiss started slow, Harry's lips brushing against Louis's as if testing. Louis responded immediately, his hands moving to grip Harry's shirt, pulling him closer. The moment escalated quickly as Harry deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up to tangle in Louis's hair.
"You've been driving me mad all morning," Harry murmured against Louis's lips, his voice rough.
"Me?" Louis replied, his breath hitching as Harry's teeth grazed his bottom lip. "You're the one dragging me into cupboards like a lovesick teenager."
Harry grinned, his hands slipping under Louis's shirt to splay against the bare skin of his back. "And you love it."
Louis let out a breathless laugh, his head falling back against the shelves as Harry's lips trailed to his jawline, then down to his neck.
"God, Harry," Louis groaned as Harry sucked lightly at the sensitive spot just below his ear.
"Too much?" Harry asked, his voice low and teasing as his hands roamed lower.
"Not enough," Louis shot back, his tone daring as he tugged Harry even closer.
--
The kiss turned frantic, their bodies pressing together as Harry leaned in further, trapping Louis against the shelves. Louis hooked his fingers into Harry's belt loops, pulling him flush against him and earning a low groan from Harry.
"You're going to ruin me," Harry muttered, his hands gripping Louis's hips tightly.
"That's the plan," Louis quipped, his voice breathless.
Harry's lips returned to Louis's neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. His teeth grazed the skin, followed by his tongue, and Louis shivered under the attention. "Harry," he gasped, his nails digging into Harry's shoulders.
Their movements grew more desperate, their breathing uneven as Harry's hand moved to the hem of Louis's shirt, tugging it up to reveal the smooth expanse of his stomach. He pressed a kiss just above Louis's navel, grinning when Louis let out a sharp intake of breath.
Louis tugged Harry's shirt up in response, his fingers brushing against the warm skin of his chest. "You're a menace," Louis muttered, though the way his hands wandered betrayed his words.
"And you love it," Harry replied, his grin widening as he kissed his way back up to Louis's lips.
--
Harry's hands found Louis's thighs, lifting him slightly to press him harder against the shelves. Louis gasped, his legs wrapping instinctively around Harry's waist as their bodies aligned.
"You're insufferable," Louis muttered, though his voice was shaky with want.
"And you're loud," Harry teased, his lips brushing against Louis's ear before biting down gently.
Louis retaliated by tugging Harry's head back and diving into another kiss, his teeth scraping Harry's bottom lip before deepening the connection. Their hips moved together, the friction sending sparks through both of them.
Harry groaned, his grip on Louis tightening as he pressed him even harder against the shelves. "God, Lou," he muttered.
Louis let out a breathless laugh, his hands sliding down Harry's chest. "Keep going," he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and demand.
--
"Well, isn't this cozy."
The voice shattered the haze, and both men froze mid-movement. Harry's head snapped up, his lips still red and swollen, while Louis groaned, his forehead dropping against Harry's shoulder.
Anne stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression a perfect blend of exasperation and amusement.
"You two," she started, shaking her head. "In the pantry. Again."
Before either Harry or Louis could respond, another voice chimed in.
"Seriously? You're just asking to get caught," Zayn said, leaning casually against the doorframe with Liam at his side.
Liam, trying and failing to hide his grin, added, "Do you not know how to lock a door?"
Harry groaned, stepping back slightly as Louis slid down from the shelves. "You're all the worst," Harry muttered, running a hand through his curls.
Anne raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to their disheveled state. "Am I going to have to start chaperoning you?" she asked dryly.
Zayn smirked, crossing his arms. "Please don't. I don't think I could take it."
Louis straightened his shirt, shooting Zayn a glare. "Like you're any better," he shot back.
"Touché," Zayn replied with a grin.
--
As Anne shooed them out of the pantry, muttering about "boys with no shame," Louis turned to Harry with a smirk. "Caught again," he said, his voice low and teasing.
Harry sighed, his hand sliding to Louis's waist as they walked away. "Still worth it," he murmured, his lips brushing against Louis's temple.
Zayn and Liam exchanged a knowing look, their laughter trailing behind as they followed the pair out of the kitchen.
—--
The living room was warm and sunlit, the soft light pooling over the plush couch where Niall guided Amelia with an air of playful mischief. The tray of snacks he'd set up on the coffee table was forgotten the moment she sat down, her curious expression quickly melting into a knowing smile.
"A secret lunch date, huh?" Amelia teased, crossing her legs and tilting her head at him.
Niall grinned as he dropped onto the couch beside her, his blue eyes gleaming with boyish charm. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're something, all right."
"You mean irresistible," he quipped, his voice low as he leaned in, one hand resting lightly on her knee.
Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but Niall closed the distance, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that started soft but quickly gained urgency.
--
Niall's hand slid up her thigh, his fingers tracing a teasing path as he deepened the kiss. Amelia sighed against his mouth, her hands moving to grip his shirt, pulling him closer.
His lips moved with a quiet desperation, his hands finding her waist and tugging her into his lap. Amelia straddled him instinctively, her arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss grew hungrier.
"Niall," she murmured against his lips, her voice trembling as he trailed kisses down her jawline to her neck.
"Hmm?" he replied, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear.
"You're..." Her words faltered as his hands slid under her top, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin of her waist.
"What?" Niall teased, his voice husky as he leaned back slightly to look at her. His grin was sharp, his breath coming in short gasps. "You can't even finish your sentence now?"
Amelia let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tugging at his shirt in retaliation. "You're impossible," she managed, though her tone lacked any real conviction.
"And you love it," he shot back, leaning forward to capture her lips again.
--
Niall's hands roamed higher, sliding up Amelia's back as their kiss turned frantic. Her fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer as his lips returned to her neck. This time, he didn't stop at gentle kisses—he sucked lightly at her skin, earning a soft gasp from her.
"Niall," she whispered, her voice trembling as he pulled her even closer, their bodies pressed tightly together.
"Yeah, love?" he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.
"You're leaving marks," she said, though the shiver in her voice betrayed her lack of concern.
"Good," Niall replied, his smirk evident even as his lips found another spot to kiss, sucking just hard enough to make her squirm. "Let everyone know you're mine."
Amelia's cheeks burned at his words, but she didn't stop him. Instead, she tugged his shirt up and over his head, her hands moving to trace the warm expanse of his chest.
"You're ridiculous," she said softly, though the way her hands wandered betrayed her.
"And you're beautiful," Niall replied, his voice low as his fingers brushed against the hem of her top. "This okay?"
Amelia nodded, her breath hitching as he lifted her shirt, discarding it beside his. His eyes roved over her, darkened with desire as his hands found her waist again, pulling her flush against him.
Their movements grew more desperate, the tension of the past weeks bubbling over as Niall's lips found hers again. He kissed her like he couldn't get enough, his hands gripping her hips as their bodies moved in perfect sync.
--
Amelia let out a soft moan as Niall's lips traveled lower, his teeth scraping lightly against her collarbone. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as he continued his path.
"Niall," she breathed, her voice a mix of encouragement and plea.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. "What?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Nothing," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.
Niall chuckled softly, his hands sliding down to her thighs. "You're gonna kill me, love," he muttered, though the grin on his face said otherwise.
--
The sound of the living room door creaking open broke through their haze.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Cheryl's voice rang out, sharp and filled with exasperation.
Amelia froze, her eyes going wide as she turned to see Cheryl standing in the doorway, flanked by Trisha and the twins. Daisy and Phoebe both burst into laughter, their grins wide as they took in the scene—Amelia straddling a shirtless Niall, their faces flushed and their hair thoroughly mussed.
"Seriously?" Daisy said, her tone teasing. "Right here in the living room?"
"Classy," Phoebe added, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Niall groaned, covering his face with his hands. "You're all terrible," he muttered, though the redness creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.
Cheryl crossed her arms, her brow raised. "I don't know whether to laugh or lecture," she said dryly. "Do I need to start putting locks on the doors?"
--
As the group retreated, still laughing and muttering comments under their breath, Amelia buried her face in Niall's shoulder. "This is mortifying," she mumbled.
Niall sighed, wrapping his arms around her. "Could've been worse," he said lightly.
"How?" Amelia asked, her voice muffled.
"They could've had cameras," Niall quipped, earning a soft laugh from her despite her embarrassment.
"You're ridiculous," she muttered, lifting her head to glare at him half-heartedly.
"And you love it," he replied, leaning in to kiss her temple. "Now, come on. Let's finish our 'secret date' somewhere more private."
Amelia shook her head, laughing softly as she reached for her shirt. Despite the interruption, the warmth between them lingered, promising that the moment wasn't entirely over yet.
—--
The patio was bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, its soft light filtering through the trees and casting long shadows across the villa's peaceful garden. The air was crisp but inviting, carrying the faint scent of pine and freshly brewed coffee. The round table on the patio was set simply but warmly—a steaming pot of coffee, an array of mismatched mugs, and a small plate of biscuits arranged neatly by Gigi.
The women gathered around, sinking into cushioned chairs with a shared sense of relief. Cheryl poured coffee for Trisha, handing her the mug with a quiet smile.
"I think we've earned this," Cheryl said as she leaned back, her hands cradling her own mug.
Trisha chuckled softly, her eyes flicking toward the garden. "After today? We deserve more than coffee. Maybe a medal."
Anne, seated across from them, smiled fondly as she glanced toward the patio door. Through the glass, faint laughter and movement could be seen as the boys lingered inside. "They've been keeping us on our toes for years. Some things never change."
Amelia, still adjusting to the whirlwind of the villa, laughed quietly. "I don't know how you all survived it back then. Today alone has been... a lot."
"You get used to it," Gigi said with a grin, taking a sip of her coffee. "Well, sort of."
Cheryl glanced toward the horizon, her expression softening. "It's strange, isn't it?" she murmured. "Seeing Liam like this again... it's like he's letting himself be loved for the first time in years."
Gigi turned toward her, tilting her head curiously. "What do you mean?"
"For so long, he's been so focused on everyone else," Cheryl said, her voice tinged with emotion. "Bear, his family, even me... He never let anyone take care of him. It's like he didn't think he deserved it. But since Zayn came back..." She trailed off, a faint smile curving her lips. "It's like he's finally giving himself permission to let go."
Gigi nodded slowly, her own expression softening. "I've seen it, too," she admitted. "Zayn's different around him. He's... lighter. Happier." She hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. "I didn't think I'd ever see this side of him again."
"What side?" Cheryl asked gently.
"The Zayn I knew before everything got so complicated," Gigi said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The one who smiled freely, who laughed without holding back. It's like Liam's reminded him how to be himself again."
Cheryl smiled, her gaze flicking back toward the villa. "Funny, isn't it? They're both so good at giving, but it took each other to teach them how to take."
Across the table, Anne and Karen sat in quiet conversation, their mugs resting between their hands. Anne's eyes softened as she glanced through the open door, catching a glimpse of Harry and Louis leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing at something only they could understand.
"They're so... open now," Anne remarked, her voice filled with quiet wonder. "Not just with each other, but with all of us. It's like they've stopped holding back."
Karen nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It's like they've finally realized they don't have to hide anymore. That they're allowed to just... be."
Anne smiled warmly. "Harry's always been himself, but with Louis, it's effortless. I always knew they were happiest together."
Karen leaned back, her gaze drifting to the horizon. "And Liam," she said softly. "He's always carried so much. Even as a boy, he shouldered the world. But now? Now, he looks like he's finally found peace."
Anne's smile deepened, her voice soft. "It's incredible, isn't it? How much they've grown—and how much they've reminded each other of who they are."
Trisha had been quiet, her hands clasped around her cup as she listened. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady but laced with emotion.
"Zayn's always been my quiet boy," she began, her words drawing the group's attention. "He's always felt things so deeply, but he kept it all inside. I think he thought showing too much made him weak."
Gigi reached out, placing a gentle hand over Trisha's. "He's lucky to have you," she said sincerely. "And Liam."
Trisha smiled faintly. "They're lucky to have each other. You can see it in the way Zayn looks at him—as if he's finally found his home."
The conversation softened, the group falling into a companionable silence. The sound of laughter drifted faintly from inside the villa, the boys' voices blending with the occasional giggle from the children.
"It's love," Anne said finally, her voice quiet but sure. "That's what brought them here. And it's what will carry them forward."
Cheryl nodded, her expression serene. "It's incredible to see, isn't it? How they've all come back to each other after everything."
The women exchanged warm smiles, their bond deepened by the shared experience of loving these extraordinary men. As the last rays of sunlight faded behind the mountains, the patio was filled with a quiet sense of belonging and peace.
Amelia cradled her coffee mug, the warmth seeping into her hands as she listened to the easy flow of conversation around her. The golden evening light bathed the patio, and the laughter and voices of the boys and children filtered softly through the open doors. Despite the tranquility, Amelia couldn't help but feel like an observer, standing at the edge of something extraordinary.
Her gaze shifted between the women around her—Cheryl, Gigi, Trisha, Anne, and Karen—all so effortlessly comfortable in this dynamic, as though they were pieces of a puzzle that had finally come together. Amelia's chest tightened, not with discomfort, but with awe. She had always known Niall's stories about the boys and their families painted a picture of closeness, but seeing it first hand was something else entirely.
"They're something, aren't they?" Cheryl's voice broke into her thoughts, her smile warm and knowing. "It can be a bit overwhelming at first."
Amelia chuckled softly, nodding. "A bit," she admitted. "But in the best way. I mean, I've always known how close they were, but seeing it... it's different. It's like they've built their own little world."
"They have," Gigi chimed in, her gaze flicking toward the villa. "And once you're in, there's no getting out. Not that you'd want to."
--
Cheryl set her mug down, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes. "Speaking of being in, care to explain what exactly happened with you and Niall in the living room earlier?"
Amelia's face flushed instantly, her grip tightening on her mug. "Oh, I, um—" she stammered, glancing around the table as the women's laughter bubbled up.
"Oh, don't play coy," Gigi teased, leaning forward. "You looked pretty comfortable straddling him on that couch. Very 'domestic bliss.'" She wiggled her eyebrows, earning more laughter.
"I—it wasn't like that!" Amelia protested, though the heat rising to her cheeks told a different story. "We were just... having lunch!"
"Lunch?" Cheryl echoed, her tone dripping with mock disbelief. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
Amelia buried her face in her hands, groaning. "You're all terrible."
"We're just teasing," Gigi said, her grin softening into something more genuine. "It's nice to see Niall like that—with someone who makes him happy. You fit right in, Amelia."
Amelia peeked out from behind her hands, her smile timid but genuine. "Thanks. That means a lot."
--
As the teasing subsided, Amelia found herself quietly watching the women again, marveling at how seamlessly they fit together. Cheryl and Gigi exchanged stories about the kids' antics, their laughter light and easy. Anne and Karen spoke softly, their shared admiration for the boys evident in their fond expressions. And Trisha, though quieter, added thoughtful observations, her warmth wrapping around the group like a protective embrace.
They've been through so much* Amelia thought, her chest tightening. *And yet they've built something so strong, so unshakable.*
The group's dynamic was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It wasn't just friendship—it was family. And for the first time, Amelia felt like she wasn't just an outsider looking in. She was part of it.
--
"Welcome to the chaos," Cheryl said with a grin, as though reading her thoughts.
Amelia laughed softly, lifting her mug in a mock toast. "Here's to surviving it."
"To surviving it," Gigi agreed, clinking her mug against Amelia's.
As the conversation drifted back to stories of the boys' antics, Amelia felt a sense of belonging settle over her—a quiet, comforting warmth that promised she was exactly where she was meant to be.