8000 n

Signs in my experience
  • Aries: either death metal or cinnamon roll there is no in between
  • Taurus: beautiful but doesn't know it
  • Gemini: friendly like literally so fun to be with
  • Cancer: (idk any sry fam)
  • Leo: sass master 8000
  • Virgo: quiet n hardworking but lazy also it's weird
  • Libra: yooo copycat (sorrynotsorry) but fun to be with if you ignore the copy cat thing I guess??
  • Scorpio: (idk any sry fam)
  • Sagittarius: gets along with everyone and so funny freaking marshmallows
  • Capricorn (me and a few other friends): STreSsED sO StRESseD Oh mY FReaKiNG RacCooN BuTThoLes sO stREsSed
  • Aquarius: (idk any sry fam)
  • Pisces: quiet but hella cool once you talk to them
One Direction Preference- He Calls You A Gold Digger To The Boys (Zayn)

“I really just feel like the marble tiles would look nicer, that’s all,” you flipped through a booklet from the flooring place you’d visited earlier, “They would even out how dark the countertops are.”

“They’re also over £100 per square foot,” he was frustrated with you already, “And in case you haven’t noticed, the house is pretty damn big and has a lot of floors to cover.”

"Zayn,” you shrugged, “We have the money, we might as well indulge.”

“I have the money,” he raised his eyebrows, “And I’m not spending it on designer tiles for your brand new kitchen—that is way bigger than what we originally wanted, I might add.”

You clenched your jaw. Buying a house together was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to bring you closer, but somehow, it always lead to fighting. It wasn’t your fault that you had expensive taste, and he could always say no—but he’d rather say yes then keep it as weaponry to use in arguments later on.

“Whatever,” you tossed the booklet back on the coffee table, the rustling sound echoing through the naked rooms around you. Everything smelled like fresh paint and dry wall and it nearly suffocated you, but that was the price of remodeling a home, and you were willing to pay it, “Forget the floor. What about the sofa? I really liked that leather one from the Morson Collection…”

“The black one?”

“Yeah,” you said eagerly, rustling through the pile of catalogs grabbing the Minotti booklet, flipping to the dog-eared page, “This one.”

“This one,” his lips pulled into a thin line, “Is £8000, Y/N. Not happening.

"Zayn,” you were getting frustrated, “You’re a world famous popstar, for Christ’s sake. Spend a little money.”

You knew you’d taken a step too far as he grabbed the booklet from your hand, leaping to his feet, “Spend a little money? Are you really saying that to me after I just bought you a £1.6 million house?”

“Zayn, calm down,” you brushed him off, climbing to your feet and quickly snatching the catalog from his hand, “I didn’t make you buy it.”

“You begged for it for 3 months, screamed at me about my money, threw a fit when I said no,” the anger was building, “If that’s not making me buy you a house, then I don’t know what is.”

You narrowed your eyes, your words flying from your lips like bullets, “You’re supposed to want to buy a house with me, Zayn. You’re supposed to want to live with me and love me and want to do this. It’s sad that I have to make you.”

“Are you really saying that I don’t love you because I don’t want to spend all my fucking money on kitchen tiles?” he leaned over, throwing all the pamphlets from the table in one sweep of his arm, “Because that’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Do you even love me?” you felt tears welling in your eyes.

“What the fuck kind of question is that? Of course I love you, I do everything for you,” he spat, “The real question is do you even love me? Because it sure seems like you love those goddamn marble tiles a whole lot more.”

“That’s not fair,” your jaw set, arms crossing over your chest.

“You know, I’ve been worried about this for awhile,” he motioned to the empty house, “Even talked to the guys about it. About whether it was a good idea, whether I should really throw this much money away on some girl whose such a fucking gold digger.”

His words sliced your chest open, leaving you to bleed as you squeaked, “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” he spat, his voice coming down from a yell, morphing into something dark and low that you had’t heard before, “They all agree that you’re a little too needy, a little too expensive—I always told them they were wrong, that you’re just a shit budgeter, that you don’t understand boundaries—but now, I’m starting to agree with them.”

“Is that really what you think this is?” you were crying now, withdrawn away from him.

“I don’t know what this is,” he shook his head, “But I know that it’s not what I want.”


BAM. Talk about some drama am I right? Hope you liked it! Part 2 is here.

Other boys here:

xoxo B