Preferences/Imagines w/ one direction.

Some preferences/imagines with One Direction for you ;) I'd be happy if you would leave some feedback - thank you !

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52. *She Looks So Perfect (HIS POV)

52# *She Looks So Perfect (HIS POV)

Note: I just heard 5SOS' new song in the radio, and when the song ended this idea just came into my mind like a airplane

Harry: I’ve got your named tattooed in an arrow heart. 

"Is this too cheesy?" I asked her. She laughed, her thumb rubbing over my knuckles affectionately, my palm slightly sweaty in hers. "Not cheesy, just risky." She thought it would be too permanent of me to get a tattoo of her name on myself. She was flattered, yes, but was afraid to see our relationship fall apart yet for me to remain marked by her. "Hey. We’ve been over this. Nothing’s going to happen to us. This tattoo is as permanent as that ring on your finger." I pointed to the wedding ring that I had placed on her only a week ago. She exhaled and kissed me. "I love you." She whispered. Before I could repeat her words, the artist walked over, the needle in his hand buzzing. He disinfected the patch of skin near my heart and began to draw. The squeezes I gave to [Y/N]’s hand told her exactly how I felt. Pain is needed to keep a love strong enough for a lifetime.

Liam: She looks so perfect standing there, in my American Apparel underwear. 

The morning light was bright as I squinted awake. I let out a groan, beginning to lift my head to see [Y/N] standing in front of me. Her hair was still messy from last night, her eye makeup smudged. She bit her lip, something she did when she was nervous but happy. She was wearing my shirt, only 3 of the buttons buttoned, and my underwear. I couldn’t understand how someone could look so sexy yet stunning simultaneously. “Hi.” I breathed, my mouth’s corners turning upward. Even though it had been our first night together, I would never be able to get tired of a sight like this. True beauty isn’t something you get used to, it’s something you stay in awe of for eternity. She began to move toward me, pecking my lips quickly, then taking my hand. “You’re perfect.” I spoke. She laughed nervously and said, “Shut up.” “I love you.” It wasn’t the first time I said it, but it felt like the first time it actually mattered. She wore the words, embraced them. They somehow made her brighter. “I love you, too.” And then we were perfect.

Louis: I’ve got your ripped skinny jeans lying on the floor.

"Wait [Y/N]. Don’t go, please." I was begging, but she wasn’t listening. She just kept repeating this is a mistake, and we’re a mistake. But I wouldn’t believe her, I couldn’t. Not after last night. She rushed by, searching for her shirt. “You don’t want to talk about this? About what happened?” She didn’t answer me. Instead, she asked, “Where are my jeans?” I looked around, and saw them behind me on the floor. There was a rip in them, reminding me of how rushed we were to unclothe ourselves last night. I smiled at the ground, but she saw them and swiftly moved to pick them up. I stopped her though, grabbing her wrist. “I want to talk.” I said. “You don’t want me.” She replied. “Yes, I do.” My voice came out soft, wanting to reason, not fight. But I would fight. I would fight for her if I had to, because she would be worth it.

Niall: If I showed up with a plane ticket, and a shiny diamond ring with your name on it, would you wanna run away, too?

And this would be the final moment. The moment where I would stop breathing until she responded. The moment that could break me and everything in my life. I couldn’t stay away from her anymore. I couldn’t think about not being with her anymore. I wanted to leave with her, even if that meant we had nothing else. We were the only thing that mattered to me. So I opened the door, and she was sitting on her couch. She was surprised to see me, considering how I had been forbidden to see her again. But she was happy. I could tell. I could see it in her face, in her eyes. “Niall, what are you doing here? You really shouldn’t-,” I cut her off, “Listen [Y/N]. This is too hard for me. I was thinking about what we have and what I want, and I realized, everything I’ve done these past months have been for you. Every decision I’ve made, everything. So please. Consider this,” I dug the tiny box out of my pocket, and opened it to her puzzled face, “this isn’t romantic, and I’m sorry. You deserve romantic. But please, I have two plane tickets for tomorrow morning. I want you. I need you. If you feel the same way, please come with me. You can wear this ring, and it’ll be you and me forever. Just say yes. That’s it.” She was clearly in shock. She stared at the ring, then me, then the ring again. She took a few steps forward, then kissed me. It was passionate, it was real. It was us. When she pulled away, the ring was on her finger. “Yes.” She whispered. I let out my breath.

Zayn: You’re lipstick stain is a work of art.

[Y/N] was gone when I woke up, but she wasn’t. She was everywhere in my flat. A pair of her shoes was on the floor in the foyer. Her hairbrush was in my bathroom. An extra pair of underwear was in the dresser. But most importantly, her presence lingered on me. I remember how she felt she nuzzled into my side, how she kissed me, how she would hold my hand if we weren’t already touching. I got out of bed and looked in the mirror once I was in the bathroom. And there it was. My favorite thing to see after a night with [Y/N]. Her lipstick was stained down my neck. This morning it was more coral than red. Harder to see, but still reminded me of her. They say it’s the little things that mattered, and that was a phrase that never made sense to me until [Y/N]. I sometimes wish her lipstick was a tattoo on me, but then I remember it’s not the lipstick I want. It’s her. Would you rather have the art or know the artist? It’s a personal preference, but the person holds the emotion in each masterpiece. The masterpiece is just a reminder of their emotion. 

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