Nobody Compares

When Addison Selley's family is killed in a car crash, she's forced to live with her new guardian until she turns eighteen- her cousin Harry Styles. Yes, that Harry Styles.
However, a distraction arises in the form of a blonde Irishman.
Right. There's just one foreseen problem. And that problem is Niall Horan.

*WARNING* coarse language, sexual scenes, violence. :)


9. kiss my fist bitch

"You should visit some time," I said, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. It was just past midnight, and the boys had just returned from their night at the club, which by the sounds of it, had been quite successful. Either that, or those girls needed a noise plug to shut them up. I was on the phone, as though that were some sort of pathetic excuse for an escape from the sexual escapades happening down the hallway.

"Is that an offer?" asked Sawyer. "I thought you'd be too busy banging some of that Irish ass." I made a gagging noise, before adding loudly,

"I'd rather SIT ON A SCREWDRIVER." I heard Sawyer laugh, but I really hoped Niall had heard me. Then again, judging by those noises, he was probably preoccupied. That was me, not so long ago.

"So what are you multiple boyfriends doing?" he asked.

"Ew. Just a reminder that one of them is my cousin," I retorted, with a sigh, before adding, "And I don't want to think about what they're doing."

"Why not?"

"They got back from the club and I seriously think they might be having some communal orgy or something, it's repulsive," I scowled. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET ANY SLEEP?" Sawyer sniggered.

"On the other hand, you could make your own noise," he pointed out. I scrunched up my face in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have any like, you know- like a vibrator or something?"

"OK, no," I choked, "Goodnight Sawyer, I'd truly rather listen to some chick moaning than talk with you about this."

"You didn't answer me slut!"

"BYE!" I hung up on him again, and groaned as I dumped my phone on to the bedside table. I flicked the light off and rolled over, trying to get some sleep. How the hell was I supposed to block out those sounds? I screwed my eyes shut, grabbed my pillow and pulled it frustratedly over my ears. I was tempted to bash down their doors and stomp into all their rooms with a chainsaw. I needed to sleep.

Tomorrow, or rather today, the boys and I were getting up ridiculously early to head out on their next UK tour. I certainly hoped we got time to sleep on their tour bus, or I'd be in the worst mood. Then again, I was always in a bad mood around them, mostly because of Niall.

I flung my pillow frustratedly to the opposite of the room and screamed into my mattress. No, I definitely wasn't sleeping any time soon.


I stumbled outside down the hallway blindly, rubbing my swollen eyes. It was four in the morning, oh my god. I think the noises finally stopped about half an hour ago when I started crying really loudly. I flicked the light on the kitchen and shuffled around, my bare feet on the cold floor. I was wearing my trackpants and a loose t-shirt, but I was a little chilly. With bloodshot eyes, I moved around, making a coffee.

A noise behind me made me start violently and I whipped around, holding my teaspoon out like a weapon. There was a girl, with so much make up on that I couldn't tell where her nose was, wearing probably the exact same clothes from the night before, messy hair with her heels in her hand. I really hoped that wasn't how I looked after my disastrous nights out. I narrowed my eyes at her, and jabbed the spoon towards the door.

"Bye," I growled, before turning back around and pouring my coffee. The quite snap of the door told me she was gone, and probably the last one too seeing as I could hear the sound of rhythmic snores. I sat down at the kitchen counter, and sipped my coffee silently, my eyes dropping slightly but I forced them to remain open. Next thing I knew, my head was on the table and I was fast asleep. It must have only been for a merciful few minutes, before I stirred wearily. Something was jabbing my cheek.

I grunted and nearly fell off my chair. I flung my arms out wildly, nearly tipping my coffee over. I gazed up to see Niall, his hair messy, in a white t-shirt and his boxers. I scowled immediately. No doubt, that girl must have been with him all night. I wondered if he wanted to mess up the agreement by blowing our cover. Then again, that slut was probably the only one doing the blowing.

"What do you want?" I snapped groggily, with the angriest glare I could manage without falling asleep again.

"You snored," he commented plainly, staring at me. The balls on this one!

"Well, I'm fucking sorry!" I snapped, banging my cup on the counter top, causing the liquid to spill over my hand. I was past even caring. "It's not my fault you man whores spent the entire night pimping out girls and I couldn't get a minute of fucking silence!" He looked furious at me and for a moment, towering over me on my stool, I thought he was going to hit me.

Instead, he grabbed my hair and pulled on it. Hard.

I gasped, trying to wrench myself out of his grasp. What the fuck was he doing? How old were we- eight? But no, he was pulling me up by my scraggly hair. I let a weak whimper escape me, making him smirk.

"You'd make a great girlfriend," he sneered, pushing his face right infront of mine. I was repulsed. Suddenly, he pushed his lips on to mine. I would literally have thrown up into his mouth if I wasn't so shocked. His lips rammed against mine so hard I was sure they'd bruise, his hand still on my hair, knotting his fingers through it and pulling me closer to him. I started to struggle a little, but he held on, his probing tongue forcing my lips apart. Mercilessly, he pushed his tongue into my mouth. Dominated.

Finally, he let go off me and stepped back.

"What the fuck was that?" I gasped, eyes wide and staggering back, as far away from him as possible. He merely smirked.

"Just practicing," he leered at me, "Better get used to that, Addie." Tears stung at my eyes and I was angry at myself. I'd learnt slowly over time to put up a protective wall around me. Nothing went in, and no emotions ever came out. That included for Niall Horan. But damn it, everything he did was to hurt me in some way. I couldn't complain, or go and dob on him because we weren't little kids. It was as though I had been asking for it.

"Son of a bitch."

"What was that?"

"Don't come near me," I warned shakily, trying to push past him. He grabbed me fiercely.

"What?" he hissed venomously.

"What's your problem?" I demanded, but he shot back,

"You! You are my fucking problem!"

"Well maybe you should have thought about your problem before you went to the club and pulled back some London whore!" I snarled, trying to yank myself away. I didn't want to be close to him, but he wouldn't let go.

"Trust me, if I could then I would," he said in a dangerously low voice, "But of all my luck, the first free fuck I get is the Manchester whore!" I swallowed heavily, trying not to show how much it hurt. I managed a weak,

"Watch it, Horan." He laughed, and I didn't like it. Not one bit. It wasn't his I'm-very-amused laugh, which he'd never done around me. It was his biting, bitter laugh full of mockery. He let go of me, clearly in disgust.

"Go back to sleep," he ordered, turning his back on me. I was almost bothered to retaliate, but I was too tired. Hating him, but hating myself more, I turned and stormed off. I climbed in bed for a few more minutes of peace, but I knew now I couldn't sleep.

All I could see were those blue eyes, right before my lips were stinging and his tongue was in my mouth.









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