Liam leans back on the couch, phone in hand, a small grin tugging at his lips. Another tweet catches his eye: Daddy Directioner strikes again. He groans, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “They’re still calling me that,” he mutters, shaking his head.

He glances at you, sitting close, scrolling through your own phone. You don’t say anything, but he notices the way your posture stiffens, like you’ve read it too. His grin deepens, a quiet laugh slipping out. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?”

You don’t respond, but the faintest flush on your cheeks doesn’t escape him. The nickname, even tho he’d never admit it out loud, but it doesn’t really bother him. Not when he catches the way your gaze flickers to him, like maybe you don’t hate it either.