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#861: He can tell when it's been a bad day.
- Louis: You get fidgety and louder than normal, voice seeming higher so you sound and seem to be happy, cheerful, but he can tell behind your eyes that you want to cry, not be talking so loudly and fiddling with your fingers to get your mind off things. "Want to talk about it?" he asks softly, curling his fingers in your hair and staring into your eyes. Sometimes you'll say yes, the other times you'll say no, and that's okay, because he doesn't have to talk if you don't want to. But he will make you a cup of tea and wrap you up in a blanket and let you steal his favorite sweater. And he will pull you close to his side and kiss your forehead and say, "How about we make it a good day tomorrow? Start fresh."
- Niall: You immediately fling yourself into his arms (and though on normal days you'll do this too, it's a lot different when you're upset about something) and nuzzle your face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent deeply and needing that sense of comfort to calm down. "Okay," he murmurs, and he won't even ask what's wrong for the first few moments because he knows you need to calm down and lose yourself into him, "Okay, shh, shh, it's fine. Catch your breath. I love you." Something as casual as though three words makes you melt, being able to breathe through your mouth and nose and wipe your tears onto his sweater. He laughs a little and pulls back, staring at you. "Hey, pretty girl. There you are."
- Liam: You aren't as vocal as you usually would be, your eyes cast down low to the floor or your one-worded answers driving him nuts to the point where he has to grab the tops of your arms and drag you near him gently, slowly, trying to gauge your expression. "What's a matter?" he mumbles close to your ear, hugging you to his chest with his breath fanning some of your hair out of the way, "What can I do?" He's there for you like an anchor, holding you up and keeping you afloat in the same, easy spot that is your comfort zone. And sometimes he can't really do anything but hold you and whisper nice things in your ears, rocking you back and forth until you're above water, breathing in the ocean.
- Zayn: You just want to sleep it off, limbs heavy and heart hurting and your eyes drooped down low, and he can tell when someone is tired and when someone is sad... and when you're sad, he'll lie with you, but his chest will get that uncomfortable pang. "Close your eyes," he whispers, stroking the hair back from your forehead, "Just close them. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. I'll sleep with you, baby, and I'll be here when you wake up." You'll close your eyes and cuddle closer into his chest, feeling his other hand drop down to the back of your neck to work at the tense muscles there. And it's the simplest gestures that work on you; the brush of his lips in your hair and the feeling of his fingers.
- Harry: You get a little teary-eyed, trying to brush it off by not looking at him directly or by saying that "everything's fine", "everything is okay", "I'm just tired." But he's not budging nor is he buying it, and he traps your wrists in one hand gently to stop your wild hand gestures and presses his forehead against yours, speaking in a hushed tone that only you are accustomed to. "Hey," he murmurs, hand dropping your wrists to snake up behind your neck, "Hey, look at me. Everything will be fine if you just breathe. Look at me. Don't worry, don't cry. Just look at me. Focus on your breathing. Don't look away... don't look away... right here, I'm here, you're going to be fine. It was just a bad day. I'll make it better, baby."
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#858: You wake up in his bed.
- Louis: It smells of boy next to you. A real boy, scented heavily with cologne and sweat and sleep and laundry. It's hard not to notice, to be honest, and it's maybe one of the best sleeps you've ever gotten in the long time -- even though you're naked beneath the sheets... even though you know you've done something your mother would never approve of... even though you know you're still a little drunk, hungover from the rendezvous from the night before. But you're smiling, clutching the covers to your chest and whispering to yourself, "God, what have I done?", but it's the most amazing high you've ever felt. Your thighs are still tingling, your legs are still deliciously sore and there are bites and scratches along your back and neck. And the boy next to you is really pretty; scruff a few days old, body curled up underneath the sheets, his arm pressed against yours, skin warm. You should be mad for sleeping with a stranger, but you want to know this stranger.
- Niall: The bed is not like yours. It's smaller, a bit more uncomfortable, and the floor beneath it is covered in jerseys and socks and soccer cleats. You know that it's his room the moment you wake up, and you stretch out your arms and reach for his mess of hair. There's nothing better than waking up in his bed -- and even though it's a bit smaller and nothing like the one at your house, it's safe and warm and the sheets smell of him and the pillows are where he lays his head and his covers are soft. There's no yelling coming from downstairs and no mean monsters that dare to get you in the middle of the night; it's just him, with his hand running up and down your stomach and your arms and other places that he dares to uncover, and it's lovely and warm and nothing like any other bed. "Good morning," he whispers, blue eyes shining when the sun peaks through the curtains, "Did you get a good sleep?" Yeah, you did, and it's because he was there, holding you through the night.
- Liam: Your eyes are still swollen from the tears, red and ghastly looking from the hours of crying. Your body is aching; cold and shivering and sore and everything hurts. But he's lying next to you and it's alright, you're not going to hurt anymore, you're safe. You're with someone you have put all of your trust in, someone who hasn't broken that trust ever. "It's alright, you're alright," the voice murmurs, breaking through your thoughts as a gentle hand scoops over your hip and brings you into his warm side, "Everything is alright." No more tears, no more hurt. It feels nice to lay with someone like this without having to be forced to do anything. Without having to kiss or touch someone intimately in even more intimate places. That doesn't mean you're a prude, it just means you like the chaste feeling of what it's like to be in Liam's arms. He's warm and careful with you, delicately holding you in his arms while he strokes your back and your hair. You're with him, safe, finally.
- Zayn: A naked chest is pressed against your back and that is the main reason why you can't sleep. You feel him everywhere, pressed up against you and rubbing his thighs against the back of yours and his cold feet jolting your warm ones to a wake. You see the tattoos running up and down his arms and you look down and concentrate on his hands where they rest on your stomach, fingers absentmindedly stroking your skin, even as he's in a deep sleep. You can't help but to whisper a small, "oh," because this is weird and it should feel weird with the hot and cold differences, but it feels... nice. Being with him is nice and different and it sort of fills in the missing pieces. Though you know you two didn't do anything -- because you're still dressed in his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, and that kind of makes you sad -- it's nothing that shocks you for once. You're happy that you're just laying here with somebody for once, no strings attached; just embraces of tranquility and melodies.
- Harry: Which is odd, because you don't remember how you got there in the first place; the night was a blur, sort of hazy behind your eyes, and no matter how hard you rack your brain to find out the clues to piece it all back together, it's scary because you can't seem to remember anything. "Don't worry," a soft voice comes from above you when you wake up at a late hour, blinking the headache away, "We didn't do anything. I just brought you home because you were too drunk to be alone. You're fine." And a strong, muscular hand places a glass of water and two pills on the side of the bed. And you know that it's Harry and you know that Harry is taking you and you know that those are Harry's fingers pulling the covers back up to your neck so you don't get cold while he's sleeping out on the couch to respect your privacy. And you know you love Harry... and you know you kind of do wish you had done something with him; you wish Harry wasn't so chivalrous sometimes.
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smileforstyles reblogged fuckyesliampaynePlay
Talking to your parents on the phone
I AM FUCKIGN CRYING I DID NOT EXPECT THIS AT ALL I AM LAUGHING OUT LOUD OH Y FUCKIGNG FOD
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louvanity reblogged horanshirePlay
There’s nothing there.
I had no luck.
I don’t miss it all that much.
There’s just so many things,
that I can touch I’m torn.Loading... -
The Do-Lo-Rez rug by Ron Arad connects handmade square wool piles of similar shades into free-form, space invaderesque shapes; $3000.
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