One Direction Preferences Part 2

he's embarrassed

he’s embarrassed

Liam: Liam was sitting at your desk when you walked in, your laptop propped open in front of him. “Liam, what are you doing?” you asked urgently, fearing for your long worked-on English paper that was saved on the computer. Liam spun around in the chair and beamed at you. “Proofreading!” he exclaimed, grinning like a fool. You felt your stomach drop but smiled nonetheless. Liam wasn’t exactly the best proofreader. That is to say, his “editing” often left you with more work to do than before he started. You began to read the paper, wincing and making mental notes to change and delete things. It got to be too much and you sighed, hands flying to the keyboard to rearrange what used to be a perfectly good sentence. “I screwed up your paper, didn’t I?” he asked softly, hiding his eyes. His face was flushed red. “Yeah,” you said, quickly adding on, “but it’s alright. You did help me, actually,” you said, desperately trying to make Liam feel less embarrassed. “This sentence was completely wrong and since you changed it, it’s much better! Thank you so much, babe,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Zayn: The first thing you heard as you shut the door was a loud string of curses. Concerned, you hurried to the main room, where you determined Zayn was located. You peeked around the doorway, seeing his back facing you as he sat, frustrated, at the piano. His body shuddered as he took a deep breath, hands pressing with a forced lightness on the keys. He plucked out a melody, comprised of minor tonality and a luxurious meter. He played for around thirty seconds before he hit a wrong key, and the cursing came again. “Hey, I thought it was beautiful,” you remarked, pushing yourself around the doorway. Zayn stiffened but didn’t turn to you. “Yeah?” he asked glumly, his gaze lowering towards the keys. “Yeah,” you murmured, standing behind him. You laid a hand on his bicep “There’s no need to be embarrassed, my love,” you said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his shoulder. Zayn’s head turned to the side, his lips making contact with the side of your head. “I love you,” he mumbled against your skin.

Louis: Louis, always the joker, could laugh at himself. It wasn’t often you had to console the confident man, so when you walked into the bedroom to find Louis sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands and face red, you knew something drastic must have happened. “We had an interview today,” he explained after you coaxed him downstairs with the prospect of tea. “And I normally make jokes, often with Haz and Liam at the butt of them, but today I kept making a fool out of myself.” He took a deep drink of his tea, putting down the cup with a calmer look about him. “I mean, I normally come off as pretty insane, but today it was just stupid little things,” he sighed, laughing humorlessly at himself. “I tripped as we walked onto set, my fly was undone, I continued to mishear the interviewer - and I couldn’t come up with any witty comments, which is completely abnormal for me,” he let out a loud sigh. “I’m just embarrassed,” he admitted, meekly finishing of his tea. You pushed your unfinished cup towards him. He happily picked it up, toasting you before drowning the dark liquid.

Niall: You and Niall were walking down the street in Mullingar, smiling at the people who smiled at you, stopping every now and then for a picture or an autograph. You didn’t mind so much; the townspeople were generally very nice to you. As you shuffled along the sidewalk, the winter breeze causing your hair to fly behind you, Niall chattered about the next album. “I think the fans will really like it,” he said happily. “A lot of them are older than the projected audience, which is awesome, so they’ll appreciate the mature fe-aohmygodaggh!” Some sort of embarrassing noise escaped Niall’s lips as he tumbled to the sidewalk, your body falling, too, on instinct. “Oh, my God,” he groaned. “I’m such a loser.” You giggled, sitting up and kissing his nose. “You’re perfect. Shut up.”

Harry: “OH MY GOD!” You heard Harry scream from the kitchen. Alarmed, you sat up in the arm chair you had occupied, book falling out of your hands as your grip slackened. “Harry?” you questioned, sitting up as if your posture would clarify his scream. “It’s freaking huge, oh my God,” he shouted. You pushed yourself out of the cushy chair, walking briskly to the kitchen. Harry was seated on a barstool, legs pulled as close to his chest as possible. His gaze was locked on a little black spider. It seemed to be frozen under Harry’s petrified stare. “Hazza,” you said slowly. “That thing is tiny. You’re fine,” you laughed, going to kiss his temple. He didn’t react, wide eyes still staring at the spider. You rolled your own eyes and gathered a piece of paper and a cup, proceeding to use them to capture the little arachnid and put him outside. When you came back inside, Harry was blushing furiously and rubbing the back of his neck. “The big bad spider is gone,” you teased him. He pouted and turned away. “I’m just teasing, love,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around him from behind. You laid your cheek against his back, smiling as his hands found yours in front of him.