One Direction | Preferences

'Best Song Ever' by One Direction

‘Best Song Ever’ by One Direction

A/N: I don’t even know how this happened.

Niall: (But I know that I won’t forget her) You stick in Niall’s mind even weeks later, this haze of a pretty girl with intelligent eyes and who wasn’t a mess of emotions as soon she worked out who he was. Your personality didn’t change one bit the whole night, you were warm and nice but not going to hop into bed with him at the first suggestion of it. So now he has these memories burned into his brain and the reminder of your lips against his, but no phone number, no address, not even a last name. He keeps an eye out though, hoping somehow you’ll turn up again, and it turns out fate dealt him an even better hand then he thought, guiding you right back to him.

Harry: (Said I had a dirty mouth but she kissed me like she meant it) Harry’s mouth is just begging to be kissed really, pink and full, with a red tongue that flickers out occasionally to wet his lips as he smiles down at you. He’s dirty and cheeky and makes crude jokes, but makes up for it all with a winning smile and big green eyes, and an underlying goodness to him. So when you reach up, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss him, yeah, it’s because he’s dirty and charming, his hands holding you steady, kissing you just right, but it’s also because you feel safe with him.

Liam: (Maybe it’s the way she walked) Afterwards, in a dressing room crowded with four other boys, Liam tries to pinpoint exactly where he noticed you. Maybe it was when you smiled at him, or when Zayn pointed you out, but he thinks he’d been aware of your presence the whole time, knowing that you were somewhere, and as he rewinds through his memories, he finally picks it, when you came through the door for the first time, and it was just you. Shining and bright, shy almost, hovering behind your confident friend, and maybe he should have noticed her first, in that tiny skirt and even smaller top, but no, it was definitely you and your down cast eyes and fidgety hands, and he knows it was for a reason.

Louis: (Said her name was Georgia Rose) “What’s your name, babe?” You raise an eyebrow at the band member, astounded that he actually thinks he’s going to be able to pick you up. “Georgia Rose,” you mock, and he grins, “I know you’re lying, but I don’t really care.” You’re not sure how it happens, or why you even let it happen, but somehow you end up pressed against him on the dance floor, his lips at your ear, fingers digging into your hips. It’s not as unpleasant as you thought it would be with this cocky pop star, he’s charming and has pretty eyes, so the next morning when your head hurts and you wander into a kitchen you don’t recognise to be welcomed with coffee and a fry up, as well as a sleepy, scruffy Louis Tomlinson that looks a lot more like a ‘Lou’ at nine a.m., you’re happy to smile at him as you sit down at the table, finding him grinning at you over the top of his newspaper. “My name’s actually (Y/N).” “Well,” he reaches across, grabbing your hand and shaking it slowly, “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Zayn: (And we danced all night to the best song ever) It’s not like it’s a one night stand thing, you’ve been with Zayn for well over a year now, know his habits off by heart, his sister’s middle names, what makes him tick, and you love him, you love the calm nights in watching television and kissing lazily, but these parties still give you a rush, make you feel like you’re meeting him for the first time, handsome and glowing under the lights, with scruff and dangerous eyes. It’s exhilarating and you can wrap your arms around his neck and feel his body pressed against yours, his lips dragging over your jaw as he whispers things that only you can hear. But the thing that stays with the whole time, is that it’s Zayn, he’s safe and warm and he’s home, and no matter how much you switch it up and spend nights at parties, you’ll always be able to fall into a bed with him and be held and loved.