Niall:
Even though they were calloused from years of playing the guitar, you still loved the feeling of Niall’s fingertips against yours. So when you woke up to the feeling of his fingers running up and down your sides, you instantly smiled. “Morning.” Niall looked over at you, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, “Morning, darling.” You nuzzled your head in the crook of his neck, placing small kisses to it. He laughed, lazily running his fingers across your back, “Can we just stay here forever?” “But there’s no bathroom in our bed.” “We’ll improvise.” You smiled, you always savored these moments with Niall; just you two, skin-to-skin, off in your own little worlds. “Your skin is so soft,” he muttered, “So beautiful.”
Louis:
“Please, (Y/N)? Please?” You sighed, “Louis, I already told you, no.” He pouted, “But why?” You looked up from your book, “Well, for starters, I don’t want to watch football with you because you scream like a little girl or an old man, and I want to read this book.” Louis whined, “Why do you hate me?” You grinned, “There’s a lot of reasons.” He narrowed his eyes, “Fine,” he ran his fingertips up and down your sides, tickling you. You laughed, “Louis, stop!” “Watch the game with me!” You shook your head, “Louis, please!” He smiled, “Not until you wa-” He fell to the ground, “Did you just kick me?” You shrugged, “Oh god, sorry, Lou, but that’s what you get for tickling me.” Louis stood up, “What if you crippled me and I ended up like Niall?” You laughed, “You’re fine.” “But what if I’m not? Will you watch the game with me then?” You leaned over and kissed him, “No.”
Liam:
“Liam, what are you doing?” He looked up from playing with your hair, “Being a hair stylist.” You smiled as he ran his fingers through your hair, “Why?” “Because your hair is so soft and smells so nice.” You frowned, touching some split ends, “My hair feels like a tree.” He smiled and shook his head. You never understood it, but Liam had a weird fetish with your hair; he always ran his fingers through it, and played with it. “You look beautiful when your hair is like this.” You cocked your brow, “My hair always looks like this.” Liam smiled, brushing away a few stray hairs with the tips of his fingers, “I know.”
Zayn:
While you were at work, you left Zayn to take care of your 3 year-old daughter. “What do you wanna do next, daddy?” Zayn smiled, “How about you go draw a picture while I go make us some lunch?” She nodded and happily ran to her room to grab markers; she loved art just as much as Zayn did. Zayn was about to finish making lunch when your daughter ran in, crying, “Daddy, the paper cut me!” She held out her finger, a small red cut on the tip. He cooed, “Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. Here, I’ll make it better,” he pressed multiple kisses to her little finger, sending her into a fit of giggles. “Is that better?” She nodded, and Zayn grabbed her hand, “Good, now let’s go eat lunch, okay?” “Okay. After lunch will you yell at the paper for hurting me?” He laughed, “Anything for you.”
Harry:
Dropping his bag, he looked around the room, confused; you were always there to greet him whenever he came home. “(Y/N)?” He walked into your shared bedroom and smiled, there you were, sleeping on his side of the bed, cuddling his pillow. You woke up, the bed sinking in, and Harry removing his pillow, replacing it with his torso, “Hi, baby.” You smiled, over the past few months of him being on tour, you forgot the familiar feeling of him being so close to you, “Hi.” His hand went under the back of your shirt, fingertips gliding across your back, “You’re on my side of the bed.” Slowly, you fell back asleep, the feeling of Harry’s finger on your back soothing you to sleep. Harry looked over at you and chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your temple, “Missed you too.”
