One direction and 5 Seconds of Summer preferences and images

AT the beach

Harry: He rented a tiny beach cottage every year for your anniversary. Hidden far from the usual barrage of paparazzi and drunk college kids, you stayed in a one stoplight town where the only noise was waves kissing the sand and the occasional seagull cry. Harry dragged two ratty lawn chairs down the boardwalk while you followed behind with a basket stuffed with towels, sandwiches, and the bottle of wine you’d been saving for four months. Of course, by the time the bottle was half-empty (the rest of the picnic forgotten), the chairs were abandoned by the dunes, and you were tangled together in the surf. You giggled into Harry’s mouth, and he muttered something about getting sand everywhere. But you really didn’t care because you were together and deliriously happy, drunk on summer wine and high off each other.

Liam: Beer bottle in hand, he smiles up at you lazily. His skin’s turned pink from a full day spent in the sun, a few more freckles appearing on the back of his neck. It’s approaching sunset now, and the entire horizon blazes with reds and pinks and oranges that make your eyes hurt. Liam lightly runs a hand up and down your arm, leaving a wave of goose bumps in its wake. But he’s radiating warmth, and you burrow further into his side, pressing your lips to his neck where he tastes a bit like sand and salt and lime. One his massive hands reaches over and tilts your chin up so you’re looking into his pink face that might be even more blinding than the sunrise in front of you.

Louis: You might as well be supervising a giant five-year-old for all of uncontrolled, suddenly expelled energy that shoots through Louis once you step onto the beach. He runs off with quick steps that toss sand all over you and the towels you spent fifteen minutes trying to lay flat. And the next time you look from your light doze, Louis’s easily spotted running up and down the shoreline trying to skim board. Parents are pulling their children out of his way and shooting him dirty looks, but he ignores them all, not stopping until the board slips away and Louis finds himself eating sand. Of course, he’s not fazed by the whole thing and runs back up to you with a blazing smile and a bloody knee. All you can do is shake your head and laugh a little as he grabs your hand and drags you all around the beach to check out the tide pool and the pick-up football game he’s thinking about joining and the group of little kids trying to learn body surf. He’s got that wild look in his eye again when he presses a burning kiss to your lips before rushing off to jump through the waves.

Niall: “No, Daddy!” “Daddy, we’re scared.” Chloe and Isabelle stand by the shore, tiny toes just out of reach of the waves. They yell louder as Niall walks farther into the water and motions for them to follow. “Daddy, come on. You know we don’t like it.” And you see that playful gleam light up in his eyes as he starts making his way back to the girls giggling on the sand. “Not even if a big sea monster came to get you?” he says, reaching towards them with wiggling fingers dripping with seaweed. Your two daughters shriek and giggle as Niall scoops them up, one under each arm, and starts stomping farther into the water. Chloe ends up on his shoulders, and Isabelle’s attached to one of his legs, and he’s grinning so wide it makes your stomach hurt a little bit.

Zayn: Zayn doesn’t like the water, so you only make it to the beach after much begging and pleading and pouting on your part. But eventually, Zayn gives in like he always does (because how he can deny those beautiful, begging eyes). The two of you spend most of your time under the umbrella he always brings, occasionally stretching out on the sand for a little nap. He’s quiet here, quieter than usual, content to watch you with a sleepy smile as he traces lazy patterns into your arm and lets the sand slip between his fingers like time in an hourglass. And like always, you end up getting too much sun, so it’s his job to run aloe into your aching shoulders. But the new freckles are too much a distraction, and he finds himself running his lips over them instead of the lotion.