One Direction Imagines and Preferences

Song Writing

Niall:

Sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, back resting comfortably against the base of the sofa, the house was quiet. The only sound heard comes from the guitar propped expertly in Niall’s lap, as he strums along to the song he’s been working on diligently, from the moment he woke up. Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, you watched happily as he plucked each string between his calloused fingers. Stopping every now and again to scribble something on a piece of paper, his face was screwed up in intense concentration. Crossing silently to his side, you sat on the coffee table, extending a cup of steaming coffee out to him. “It’s really coming along,” you say with an encouraging smile. “Thanks, princess,” he winks, taking a quick sip of the hot brown liquid, “let me play it for you.” Patting the space next to him on the floor, you curl up against him, head on his shoulder. With a soft kiss to your lips, his fingers begin moving swiftly over the strings as he quietly begins to sing, “Been a lot of places, I’ve been all around the world…” his heavenly voice filling the quaint room, you listen to his tireless work.

Louis:

You slip quietly into the practice room, and find Louis sitting at the grand piano. His back his facing the door as he runs his fingers skillfully over the black and white keys. “The song’s really coming together,” you murmur, smiling as he whips around to face you. The sound of your voice catches him off guard, but the second his sea blue eyes find you his face breaks into a million dollar grin. “Oh my god, (Y/N)?” he whispers, stunned to see you standing before him in the doorway, “what are you doing here?” Rushing to his side, you throw your arms around his neck, hugging tight to one another. “I’m on spring break. I thought I’d come see my favorite boy band members,” you tease, shrugging nonchalantly. Sitting beside him on the sleek wooden bench, you nudge his shoulder playfully. “Well, show me what you’ve been working on.” Shaking his head with a smirk, he places his fingers to the keys once more filling your ears with his sweet melody. “My hands, your hands, tied up like two ships…” he sang, returning the nudge. Fingers slowing the tiniest bit, he leans in without hesitation, and presses his lips seamlessly with yours.

Liam:

Pulling Liam’s baggy, grey sweatshirt over your head, you strolled past the closed bathroom door. Stopping, you suddenly hear his voice floating to you from the shower. He’s singing the lyrics to a new song he’d been spending every waking hour perfecting. You couldn’t help but smile, his voice never failing to put you in a happier mood. Ear pressed flat to the frosted glass door you could hear every note flawlessly as it mixed together with the running water. “Oh I will, carry you over, fire and water for your love…” Sliding with your back against the wall, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, enjoying your very own private concert. Suddenly, his singing stopped, and the rushing water came to an abrupt stop. Eyes popping open, you heard Liam turn the knob on the other side of the door. Gazing down at you, there was a spark of amusement in his coffee eyes when he saw you sitting on the floor. “Hey, babe,” he chuckled, “did ya enjoy the show?” Gripping his towel securely around his waist, he squatted down beside you and covered your lips in smiling kisses.

Harry:

He sat alone in the grass, back leaning against the trunk of an old elm tree. With a guitar cradled in his lap he plucked away at the strings, each chord floating away with the breeze. The park was quiet, expect for the occasional passerby walking their dog. He’d chosen this secluded spot in hopes of cranking out the last few lines of the song that seemed to elude him. Eyes glossed over in thought, the words finally came to him. Hurriedly, he scribbled them down in his sloppy scrawl across the pages of his tattered notebook. Playing back the words he’d written, you walk quietly over to him. “It sounds amazing, Harry,” you whisper, a shy smile pulling at your lips. Emerald eyes meeting your gaze, he gave you a dimpled smile. “Oh hey, thanks (Y/N). Been struggling with it for over a week now,” he grumbles tiredly, “you wanna hear the rest?” Running a hand through his chocolate curls, you take his offer and sit down to listen as he softly sings to you. “You don’t understand, you don’t understand, what you do to me when you hold his hand…” After he’s finished, you feel your heart begin to race. Making a bold move, you lean in close, and crash your lips with your life long, best friend’s.

Zayn:

You sat alone in the spacious arena, the rows and rows of empty seats surrounding you suddenly made you feel small and inconsequential. From your seat, you watched as Zayn stood on stage, pacing anxiously back and forth. You could tell he was racking his brain for the next lyric in the song he’d been working on. Singing faintly to himself, he ran a hand roughly across the scruffy beard growing on his jaw. “…And I’ll be gone, gone tonight, the fire beneath my feet is open wide.” He had a pencil tucked behind one ear, his inky black hair falling messily over his forehead, hiding his warm chocolate eyes. Eyebrows pulled together in frustration, he let out an agonizing groan. “Song writing not going so well today?” you murmured sympathetically, making your way over to the sprawling stage. Startled, he glanced out at you, lips momentarily curling into a smile once he saw you. “Yeah, not so much,” he muttered, hopping down to meet you. “Can I help?” you asked, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “Hmm,” he sighed, “you already are.” Cupping your face in his strong hands, he lowered his lips to yours, dissolving his frustration in your soft kisses.