One Year Since Tattoo Roulette:

Aka Niall’s National Nightmare & Harry Is A Cocky Bastard

Originally posted by amftzayn

Originally posted by insomnia-eyes

Originally posted by prettielou


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So this is something I’ve been working on over the weekend. It’s dirty so if you don’t like spanking and dirty talk, this isn’t for you.

WARNING: Mature content

You were being ignored and you were also extremely horny and needy which didn’t go good together. Harry was in the home office doing god knows what and you had barely seen him all day apart from the quick breakfast together this morning and then he had locked himself in those four walls. You had agreed with yourself to give him time to do what he needed and then you would interrupt after a couple hours. You had given him plenty of extra time to deal with business and now you were just growing increasingly impatient by the second. You had checked your emails, read a book, cooked- everything you could think of but nothing could take your mind off the throbbing discomfort between your legs.

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Not Me - Liam Dunbar

Request ;; liam dunbar imagine where you are haydens sister and when you ask him who he likes, he panics and says hayden when its actually you. thanks xx

A/N ;; I made hayden v bitchy in this; no hate against her character or anything i just personally think it worked better that way :)

Warnings ;; underage drinking

Words ;; 3,153

Published ;; 3rd december 2016


Stay safe + ily💫

*   *   *

“So, what are you going to do?” You questioned your best friend, Liam. A mischievous glint in your eye, a smirk written on your lips and intoxication running through your veins.

“Hm, truth,” Liam chuckled, his head turning to face you. The two of you were currently lying on your double bed at two am, various empty bottles and cans of alcohol littering your room which you had stopped trying to hide an hour and a half into the night. Liam lying on his back, his arms propping his head up from behind, which also made his muscles look so fine from where you were sitting - not that you would ever tell him that, his ego was already big enough, you thought.

He was looking up at your ceiling, whilst you were lying on your stomach, your arms propping you up as you gazed down at your best friend of years, whom you may have completely and utterly fallen in love with over the past year and a half.

You pretended to think for a minute before speaking up with a cheeky grin, “who do you like?”

Liam scoffed playfully, taking one hand out from behind his head and nudged you lightly. “What are we, ten years old?”

You feigned shock; a gasp escaping past your lips as you shoved him back. “Excuse you, I tried my best. Now answer the question, Dunbar.”

You noticed Liam’s hesitancy; a zestful smirk presented itself back on your face. “Unless it’s me,” You flipped your hair over your shoulder and blew him a kiss, accompanied with a flirty but joking wink.

Liam suddenly became profoundly flustered, his eyes darting away from yours and filtered everywhere else except towards you. “Wha- No! No, it’s not you.” He choked out, his cheeks flushing at your teasing.

Your heart dropped at his statement, the feeling strange to you. You’d never felt like that before and it scared you. Disappointed crept up in you but deep down you knew anyway; it would never be you. You knew that Liam had always seen you two as strictly platonic and it hurt because you saw him as so much more than that.

You somehow managed to keep the same grin on your face the entire time, pushing down the unwanted feelings, you picked up your half empty can and chugged the rest of it so fast that even you were surprised. 

“Who is it then?” You persisted, throwing the can over your shoulder and hearing it land somewhere behind you. 

Liam’s eyes widened considerably at your query and you sat there, painfully waiting for his response. He coughed lightly, his cheeks reddening once again and you raised your eyebrow in his direction. “Hayden,” He mumbled, his eyes resting back on your ceiling.

You inevitably sucked in a sharp breath, your mouth agape at the name that tumbled from his lips. “My sister?” You croaked out; trying not to make it obvious that you were upset was difficult as you felt your eyes stinging but you adamantly pushed the tears back down. You wouldn’t cry over something like this, and you definitely wouldn’t cry about it in front of Liam.

“Uh, yeah,” Liam gave you a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh,” You whispered with a small nod of your head. Liam took another swig of his drink and you couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from swimming around in your toxic mind. What did Hayden do differently? Why her? You weren’t even aware that your sister and your best friend had been hanging out together when you weren’t present. What did she have that you didn’t?

You knew that the sudden sadness that filled you up wasn’t the alcohol talking, you loved him and that terrified you to no extent, he was your first love but you weren’t his and that squeezed at your heart strings tortuously. And if that wasn’t a big enough kick in the face, you had even less of a chance to be with him than before. In fact, you had practically no chance at all now, because he liked your god-damn sister.

Well, shit.

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anonymous asked:

omgggg please write the firefighter prompt i need it and i love your writing 😩

I’m a firefighter and you started a fire in your kitchen but you’re still flirting with me even though you’re not wearing pants and I’m carrying you down a ladder as you compliment me on my muscles

When Zayn had first picked up the cake mix in the store, eyes lighting up, Harry’d just laughed. Shaking his head, he warned, “You’re gonna kill ‘im. Or me.”

“Shut your mouth, you dickwad.” Zayn mumbled, jabbing him in the side with his finger. “Louis’ll love it,” he’d promised before throwing the box into the cart.

And, well, Harry had almost been right. Except it’s himself he’s almost killed this time, having accidentally set fire to the now ash-stricken mass in his oven.

He hadn’t known that was possible. Not really.

Yet. Here he is, standing in the middle of his kitchen. He’s watching the thick, gray smoke swirl closer and closer to him, the deafening smoke detector beeping at least every second to tell him something he’s well aware of at this point. 

All from a fucking chocolate cake gone awry.

Zayn can’t take his eyes off of the burning orange, the flames beginning to lick up from the stove to the cabinets.

The reality only sets in when there’s a smash and his door slams open, hitting the wall with a thump. Zayn jolts at the noise, eyes widening as he begins to finally process the scene in front of him. Realizing for the first time how, just maybe, it’s getting a little bit harder to breathe with every second that passes.

“Is anybody in here?” The yell comes before he does.

But when the cause of the slamming door rushes through, all of Zayn’s worry is once again gone as he does a quick once-over of the firefighter in front of him.

It’s hard, of course, to get a really good look, considering the (at least) five bulky layers covering the man and the quick movement of his body as he takes in the area.

“We gotta get you out of here,” the man persists, stepping closer to the blaze. Closer to Zayn.

And then Zayn catches the fireman’s amber eyes, looking brighter than Zayn knew was possible, orange reflecting through them, going clear past the opaque mask. 

The man’s eyes are so golden, so trusting. And then his forehead is scrunched up, his eyebrows knitting together, and there’s a pity behind those eyes. A flash of fear.

“Time to go, uhh…” The boy moves his hand in a circle as if that will suddenly get Zayn to do something, react like he should be reacting.

But Zayn can’t get out his name, can’t even take in a breath. His mouth won’t work, his lungs won’t work, and he’s damn well sure his limbs won’t work. 

From the corner of his eye, he calmly takes note, as if from far away, that the fire has quickly eaten through all his cabinets, now quickly approaching him.

But that still doesn’t get him to actually do anything. Instead, there’s one, other small thought that sneaks up for air from the back of his mind: his pants are still in the dryer.

And there’s a concentrated heat on his legs, the smoke tickling skin where it shouldn’t be.

His eyes trail down, and it’s like all of his public speaking nightmares wrapped up into one. Because he’s standing there, surrounded by a raging fire in his own kitchen, unable to move. And he’s in his boxers. 

Not to mention they’re Superman themed, Man of Steel in big letters right in the front.

In a font you cannot miss. And. Especially a font a fit firefighter, trained to pick up the most minute details in any sort of emergency, cannot miss. 

Not only is Louis’ cake gone, his apartment in ruin. But now Zayn’ll have to live the rest of his life knowing some hot fireman had to see him in his boxers. Zayn Malik: the worst cook in the world, but also the most embarrassing man in the world. 

Louis will never let him live this down.

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