One Direction Imagines and Preferences

Thunderstorms

Niall: It was his idea to dance in the rain. He was the one who dumped his wallet and phone on the counter and tugged you out the back door and into the puddles. The rain was freezing as it kissed your faces, but neither of you minded as he spun you in circles, his blue eyes bright. When he was done and soaked to the bone, jeans clinging to his legs and shirt transparent, he tugged you back inside. You shivered as soon as you stepped into the room, wrapping your arms around your soaking wet body. Your shoes squeaked and you toed them off, the kitchen floor cool under your wet socks. “We’re a mess,” he laughed, brushing your wet hair out of your face. Thunder boomed over head, shaking the windows. “I don’t know, I think I look pretty cute,” you teased. He grinned,scooping you up over his shoulder and swatting your bum. “Let’s get you dry,” he carried you upstairs and into your shared bedroom. He sat you down, hands skimming down your shoulders. The light was muted, the heavy curtains blocking out the grayish sky outside. You lifted your arms above your head and he grinned, pulling the soaking shirt over your head. Immediately, his mouth dropped to your shoulder, the smell of rain and flowers mixing in the air. Your eyes closed as his fingers stripped away the rest of your clothing, his mouth still on your skin, “So beautiful,” he whispered softly. You grinned, tugging his wet clothes off as you fell back onto the mattress, his hands still tracing each inch of your skin. “Let’s stay here forever, okay? I just want to listen to the rain with you for the rest of my life.”

Harry: The power went out. Harry scrambled for candles and you grabbed flashlights and you met back up in the living room. Thunder roared again, the house shaking until the force. The storm wasn’t supposed to be this bad, but luckily enough you were with Harry. “This is insane,” he muttered, lighting the candles he brought. The room glowed gold, shadows dancing across the wall and across his jaw. “Wasn’t supposed to be this bad. Hey, maybe you’ll get stuck with me for a few days,” he wiggled his eyebrows and you laughed, settling back into the couch. You were supposed to make dinner tonight, but obviously that wasn’t happening now. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You asked cheekily. His eyes darkened, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “You have,” he said slowly, “no idea.” You gulped, the huskiness of his voice making you shiver. Rain slammed into the windows and you both hunkered down, curling up under blankets and watching the shadows move around the room. “Tell me a secret,” he said suddenly, the boyish gleam back in his eye. “I’m an open book,” you scoffed with a wave of your hand. “Hardly,” Harry grumbled. “Okay, a secret…” you thought for a moment, finger tapping against your lips. “You’re the only man whose ever loved me,” you confessed, eyes to the blanket. He froze, eyes blinking in surprise. “What? That can’t be true,” he took your hand, thumb tracing your palm. “It is,” you shrugged. “But I’m glad it’s you,” you admitted. He grinned, pressing a kiss to your fingers. “I’ll be the first, and I’ll be the last. There’s no way I’m ever letting you go.”

Zayn: He loved a good thunderstorm. There was nothing like it for him. He loved knowing that he didn’t have to do anything or go anywhere, he could stay huddled up inside and draw. But tonight he had you with him, and you did not like thunderstorms. You didn’t like the way the house shook, or the way lightening looked as it pierced the sky. You’d called him more than once when a storm hit, but luckily enough this time, Zayn had been prepared. He knew the storm was supposed to be bad and he came to get you, grabbing snacks and holing up in his house. You seemed more relaxed this way. “What are you doing?” You asked from your spot on the couch. He was turning the lights off one by one, lighting candles in their place. “The power is fine.” He grinned, shaking his head as he lit the last of them. The roof shook again and you shrank down, pulling the blanket to your chin. “I’m making the best of a situation,” he said coyly, his hand out for yours. “Um,” you blinked at him as he tugged you to your feet. He pressed a button on the stereo, the soft hums of music filling the room. “I want to dance with you, and I don’t like to dance. But since I met you, I wanted a moment like this. Wanted this memory,” he spun you once under his arm and brought you back into his chest, his cheek pressed against yours. Thunder rumbled again and you gripped him tighter, fingers digging into his back. “Shhh,” he hushed you, lips by your ear, “you’re safe with me, nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m here. I promise. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.”

Liam: “Look, I don’t know how to play poker,” you said for the eighteenth time. He grinned, shuffling the deck with expert grace. “You might not, but I do,” he winked, dealing you out your cards. “I don’t know why we have to play this, you know you’re going to win,” you growled, picking up your cards. It’d been raining all day and hadn’t stopped once. Not that you minded; you could think of worse things than dealing with a thunderstorm and being stuck in Liam’s flat. “But seriously, does it have to be strip poker?” You blushed, cheeks flaming red. “Yes,” he grinned wickedly, eyes glinting in the light. He explained the rules as best he could, showing you how to draw and what to look for. You had no idea. You sipped your drink while he made his move, eyes skimming his shoulders. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t get through the first game,” he said without lifting his eyes from his hand. You grinned saying, “you don’t need to play strip poker to get me to take my clothes off,” you said breathily. His eyes flicked to yours, his lips parted as he took a shaky breath. “No, but it creates tension, can’t you feel it?” He whispered. Thunder rumbled, lighting flashed and the rain beat harder against the windows. The air turned thicker making it harder to breathe as you looked at each other. “Yes,” you said huskily. He laid down his hand and you laid down yours. He won, of course. “Shirt, off,” he commanded, watching you tug the material away. You were left in your black bra, the one he loved so much and he growled. “You wanted tension, right?” you asked coyly, “so let’s play.”

Louis: He’s like a toddler. He doesn’t like being confined in small spaces for long periods of time. He needs to move, needs to stay active or else he’s horrid to be around. He was laying upside down on the couch, feet in the air. “I’m so bored,” he growled again. You laughed, looking over the top of your book at him. “So do something,” you suggestion dryly. He glared at you, blue eyes full of mischief. “Like what? It’s going to rain forever. Might as well build another arc,” he groaned, rolling to stand up. His head spun as he looked at you, utterly content with tea and your book. “What are you reading?” He asked, standing behind you. He rested his hands on your shoulder as he squinted at the text. “New book,” you said, flipping the page. “Want to read it to me?” he asked. You blinked up at him in surprise. “Um, sure.” He grabbed your tea and your hand and dragged you up and into his bedroom. He flopped down on the bed and patted the space beside him. He didn’t like being still, but if he was going to lay around, he was glad it was with you. You lay beside him and immediately he put his head on your shoulder, one arm slung across your tummy. There was nothing quite as relaxing as your voice, nothing that soothed him in the same way. He closed his eyes as your voice filled the room and every once in a while, he’d press a kiss to your shoulder or neck, wherever his lips could reach. “I love you,” he whispered as you read. You paused, turning your head to look at your half sleeping boyfriend. He nuzzled up into you, and you closed your book, rolling to your side and wrapping your arms around him. “I love you too.”