Niall Horan imagines

mornings

"G'mornin', me little princess!" Niall greeted at the sound of tiny feet making its way into the kitchen, his bright grin faltering a bit as he eyed the petulant frown on said little princess's lips. "Ah, what's this?" He was quick to gather her into his arms, the toddler easily resting upon his lap, head bumping against his chest. "What's that frown doing on your face so early in the morning?"

She grumbled a little, bright blue eyes that were so similar to her father's eyeing the pancake you'd just flipped over on the skillet. "M'hungry," she said simply, looking up to her dad with a hopeful look, as if he'd sneak a pancake for her despite knowing the rules of Sunday mornings.

He hummed a bit, lips tugging upwards at the behavior he knew so well. (Because he'd so often exhibited it himself, back when Sunday mornings just involved him and his other favorite girl). "Well. I can't do much about that, love. You know how crazy your Mum gets over eating breakfast as a family."

You scoffed, flipping the pancake over once more before transferring the fluffy breakfast item onto the top of the stack you'd been working on all morning. Despite your slight amusement at the father-daughter duo, you kept your lips sealed, interested in seeing how this would end up.

"Mum!" the little girl cried indignantly. "Can I please have a pancake? I'm starving." When you simply gave a noncommital shrug of your shoulders, she groaned dramatically, throwing her head back onto her father's chest. Niall sensed the oncoming temper tantrum brewing within the flash of her bright eyes, quick to spring into action.

He tutted softly, placing her tiny feet back onto the floor of the kitchen before leading her towards the stereo system. "C'mon. Let's go pick a song," he said simply, propping her on the little stool set in front of his vinyl collection. "Go on," he prompted, swiping his fingers along the corners of that stupid frown he hated so much. "Pick one."

She rolled her eyes dramatically and he had to suppress a grin because that was no doubt a quality she'd picked up from her mother. Without even thinking about it, her tiny fingers simply plucked a record from the shelf, her four-year-old mind not even caring what it even looked like. (She enjoyed looking at the album art, you see).

Again, Niall bit back a laugh as he set the record player up, watching carefully as his little girl climbed off the stool and huffed her way back into the kitchen. You'd been watching the exchange with a slight smile tugging along your lips, amused at the lengths Niall would go to in order to elicit a laugh from his daughter. When the familiar notes to Niall's favorite Sinatra song began to play, he didn't hesitate to scoop her into his arms, waltzing around the kitchen and singing loudly.

"C'mon, darlin', sing with me!" he prodded, a laugh bubbling out of the little girl's lips, much to his delight. "In other wooordss, pleeeease be trueeee!"

You didn't even care that the pancake behind you was burning, because the sight of this was enough for you to realize that it was worth it. "In other wooordss," she sang along, pressing a kiss to her father's nose. "I love youuu!"