1D Preference

Forgets your birthday

zayn: you whine and shield your eyes from the strip of daylight peeking through the blinds in your bedroom. remembering its your birthday, your lips transform into a smile. you roll over to face your snoring boyfriend zayn. your fingertips dance along his spine, waiting for him to awake. "y/n, stop. i just want to sleep," he grumbles. you frown and disappear into the living room. three episodes of pretty little liars later, zayn emerges from the bedroom. you knew he was quite the late sleeper, but on your birthday, really? "good morning, babe. whoa, 3 pm already?" his morning voice says. you don't reply. "somethin' wrong?" he cocks a brow. "nope, i just love spending my birthday watching tv by myself," you retort. he freezes for a moment in realization before slapping his forehead. "oh my god, i'm such an idiot," he sighs. "i'm gonna make this up, i promise." he walks off to make a phone call, soon returning with the orders for you to get ready. you choose a dark purple dress that wraps your curves in a bear hug. you two then hop in a taxi on your way to a mystery location. when you exit, you find yourself at the venue of ed sheeran's concert of the night.

niall: "work was exhausting today," a tired niall groans. the minute he had walked in the door, he splayed himself on the couch. "sorry to hear that babe," you say from the kitchen. "you think you could give me a back massage?" he gives you a puppy face that you can't resist. with a sigh, you sit on the edge of the couch, rubbing your hands over niall's muscular back. when he's satisfied with that, he asks for a milkshake, your specialty. you blend him up one and he sips it while texting. "you wanna catch a movie?" you suggest full of hope. "oh no way, i'm so tired," he says. "but you said we would this morning," you remind him. in response to this, he lets out a throaty yawn. having enough of this, you slide on your coat and head for the door. "where you goin'?" "i'll just call a friend to accompany me or something. they all wanted to do something with me on my birthday, but you know, i thought my caring boy friend would have something planned," you snap, slamming the door behind you. niall catches up to you when you reach the elevator in your apartment building, "y/n, i'm so sorry, baby. i can't believe i forgot. let's go see whatever movie you want and ice cream, my treat afterwards. it's your special day and i ruined it." you decide to forgive him, placing a kiss on his cheek. he smiles, finding your hand and escorting you through the opening elevator doors.

harry: "your toast is the best, my love. what's your secret?" harry mock-interviews at the kitchen table in your shared flat. "well, i have a top-secret source called the grocery store where i have a guy who smuggles the bread for me and from there, i put it into a one-of-a-kind device called the toaster 9000 and voila!" you play along earning a giggle from the green eyed boy. you had hoped harry would have prepared you a birthday breakfast in bed, but it wasn't too big of a deal. "oh shit, i gotta get to work. and nick's show is about to start," he says after glancing at his expensive wristwatch. your hopes are high that he'll sneak in a "happy birthday" to confirm your crazy thoughts that he just might've forgotten, but you're gutted when he leaves with a quick goodbye and kiss. ten minutes later, your phone rings from an unknown number. "hello?" you answer glumly. "happy birthday to ya, happy birthday to ya, (y/n)! have a great day!" a familiar voice sings on the other end of the line. "thank you, grimmy," you laugh. "what?! how did you know it was me?" he asks, live on his morning bbc radio 1 show. "i recognized your voice and recall you doing the same thing to my rubbish boyfriend on his birthday," you explain. "rubbish?" he questions, that being the only thing he seemed to pick up from the explanation. "oh, he just forgot my birthday is all," you say. "ouch. next time i see him, i'll be sure to pour coffee over his curls. sound good?" he replies. "sounds great." your conversation ends and right away a call comes from harry. "(y/n) i'm a fuck-up happy birthday," he shouts first thing. you sigh. "yeah, you are, but you're my fuck up," you reply cheesily.

liam: you smile as you scroll through your twitter mentions, favoriting the happy birthday twets from fans. liam was on tour in germany and a call hadn't come from him quite yet, but you knew he hadn't forgotten. or at least that's what you clung onto until 11 pm. you went back online and saw liam was doing a twitcam. with the click of a link, his buzzcut head appeared before you on a small screen. you missed him and wanted to slap him all at the same time. "liam what did you get (y/n) for her birthday?" he read aloud. a smug look formed on your face, sensing he'd realize now. to your surprise, he replied, "um, her birthday isn't until exactly one month from now. i think i'll be getting her a jumper she's had her eye on for a while now..." just then, you typed a tweet saying "thank you for all the kind birthday wishes! xx had a great day celebrating with my family" his phone beeped and he read the message on his iphone. "shit," he whispered. although it was adorable he got your tweets sent to his phone, you were still pissed at him. "i'm a horrible boyfriend. you wanna help save my butt and trend #happybirthdayliamslovely(y/n)? go go go!" he says aloud while tweeting the exact same thing. within minutes, he's got it trending worldwide and a skype call from user liam payne appears on your monitor.

louis: "lou, i'm going to get a drink with (y/f/n) at the bar down the street. you want to join?" you offer while applying mascara in front of the bathroom mirror. from the couch, louis dismisses, "nah, the footie game is on." a burp escapes his throat after another sip of his beer. "gross." he answers this with another burp. sometimes you felt louis & yourself had been married 30 years rather than dating for one. normally, he was wonderful, but today on your birthday he had chosen to be an ass. fifteen minutes later you arrive at the club and your friend notices your glum mood. "where's louis?" she asks immediately. "developing a beer belly while watching the football game," you roll your eyes. a few cocktails later, the dj grabs the microphone while stopping the song. he speaks into it, "this next song is dedicated to (y/n). louis says 'happy birthday, baby. i'm sorry for being a jerk'." your off the stool and out searching the crowd for louis. you find him in the middle of the dance floor, awaiting you with open arms and an expression on his face that says forgive me? of course, you do and greet him with a kiss as his arms wrap around your waist, swaying you back and forth to your favorite song of all time.

-Muskaan