One Direction | Preferences

Street Lights

Street Lights

Niall: They flash through the car windows, dragging bright light across the dashboard and throwing shadows against Niall’s face. The car is warm and safe against the darkness of night outside, and you’re bundled up in one of Niall’s hoodies, curled up on the passenger seat, half asleep and watching Niall drive through heavy eyelids. One of his hands is on your jean clad knee, tapping out patterns and drawing swirling patterns, occasionally sending you happy smiles. You never thought a car ride could be quite so perfect, but this one you wish would last forever.

Harry: It’s beginning to snow and your nose is red and starting to sting from how could it is, your hands shoved deep in the pockets of your coat, but Harry’s pulled you up short, the two of you stopping on the pavement, in the circle of warm, golden light coming from an old fashioned street light. There’s tiny snowflakes in his hair and you just have time to notice how wonderfully green his eyes are before he starts kissing you. You’re still cold but there are delightful sparks of heat that are shooting through your bloodstream, his hands on your waist and in your hair, everywhere at once, here to hold you safe and warm.

Liam: You’re counting the streetlights as you walk home, each one you pass, to try and take your mind off how sore your feet are in these stupid heels and how the wind seems to blow right through your jacket. You’ve just reached the twenty seventh one, glancing up at it, when a heavy weight crashes against you, making you trip and begin to fall forward. But there are warm hands closing around your arm and waist, yanking you back up. And then there are warm brown eyes looking down at you and a man smiling, a voice asking you whether you’re alright. “I – yes.” “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you.” “No it was my fault,” you explain, although you’re not sure how you’re managing to speak normal sentences when there’s this beautiful boy smiling down at you. “Oh no, it was definitely mine. I’m Liam, by the way.” “(Y/N.)”

Louis: They illuminate the patch of dark street where Louis’ got down on one knee, grinning up at you even though his eyes are nervous and he’s fumbling in his pocket for the little velvet box that he’s been fiddling with all through dinner. You know what’s happening, heart beat speeding up and cheeks flushing as he pulls out a gorgeous silver ring, speaking the words that are only meant for you, and only ever will be said to you. “Will you marry me?” You’re crying and blushing and grabbing for him, pulling him up to hug him and kiss him and murmur out, “Of course, yes, of course.”

Zayn: Zayn’s hand is warm in yours and the city seems to stretch out all around you, the hugeness of New York making it simple for even Zayn to successfully blend in, a hood thrown over his head. And he’s laughing and beaming and keeps kissing your hair and you just want to hug him right there in the middle of the street and tell him that you love him. So you do, a couple embracing beneath a streetlight, seemingly in their own little patch of heaven, mumbling words of absolute adoration.