...we'll be counting stars
Free Imagine


It was a rainy night, big cold drops banged on your windows and in the distance a great bright lightning broke through dark clouds in the middle of the night sky followed by the loud rumbling of the thunder that made the windows of your room shake almost as scared.
“I want you to listen to this song I downloaded last night.” You selected the song on your iTunes library, making the light sound fill the room. You walked closer to the window to watch drops fall like moving in a sad dance. You never liked rainy days, it made you feel sad.
He came closer to you. His arms slowly from behind enveloped you pulling you into his chest.
“Your heart’s beating fast.” You observed. Your heart wasn’t much different, his touch always gave you butterflies.
“Sorry.” His warm breath cherished your skin, as his chin rested on your shoulder while the song kept playing its melody in the background but the only sound you could hear was the violent pumping of your blood as he, with a gentle move of his hand, pushed away your hair, exposing your neck to his warm pinkish lips, which left wet kisses from your ear, to your neck, then your collarbones. With your eyes closed, you enjoyed every single one of them.
“So what you wanna do?” Suddenly he asked in his husky voice but you just couldn’t formulate a proper sentence or ever let out a word, completely paralyzed by his sweetness.
“Well.. ehm there’s some pizza. Are you hungry?” You couldn’t even open your eyes, not ready to be thrown back into the real world.
“Are you?” He replied with a questioned, his lips whispering against your ear.
“No.” A small smirk crossed your lips
“Me neither.”
You turned to face him but his eyes left you breathless, your mouth dry, in need of his sweetness.
“We could ehm.. We.. We could watch a movie.” Somehow you let out. Your faces were so close, his lips just inches away but his mint breath on your lips.
“I’ve seen all movies.” He said resting his forehead on yours, biting his lower lip
“I’m pretty sure there’s one you missed.” You smiled.
“Pretty sure I’ve seen them all.” He gave you a small sympathetic smile as his hand stroked gently your cheek, while tugging your hair behind your ear.
“Well.. okay then.” You smiled, not knowing what else to say because your attention was only on his lips. Soon they reached yours into a passionate and rough kiss, as he grabbed your thighs so you could wrap them around his waist. Your hands travelled around his neck and into his hair, while his roamed from your thighs, squeezing your bum, to your waist and under your shirt, giving goosebumps to your skin. He set you carefully on the small creaking table.
“We can go for a ride.” He moaned into the kiss, not having any intention of breaking it, just deepened it as his tongue twirled fighting with yours.
“We could… Yeah.. We could definitely go or..-” His lips went back to your neck interrupting what you were saying, completely mind blown -” or maybe not because we would come back here.”
“Right, it doesn’t make any sense.” He said and your felt his coldish hands travel slowly but needly up to your breast just grazing on its sides.
“We could play -” You moaned, biting slightly his lower lip -“like boggle?!”
“No, I’d win in a second-” his lips pulled you for another quick kiss- “Seriously, I’m amazing”- You smirked -” I’d be a professional if I hadn’t blown out my knee.” His lips gazed yours. You needed them and you were already tired of his little games, so you pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss while your hands went under his shirt stroking his rock abs and pulled off his shirt right after. Your lips attached to his strong neck biting it slightly here and there causing him to moan.
“I don’t like playing table games.” You broke away for a second, just enough to travel to his soft lips.
“Me neither.” He whispered.
“Ok. So what we gonna -” He pulled you into another hungry kiss, interrupting you in the middle of the sentence, probably having something interesting on his mind.
“I have an idea.” He looked into your eyes with a mischievous grin before attacking your collarbones with kisses. His strong arms lifted you from the creaking table to lay you on the soft bed and tossing away your top, giving you almost a paralyzing feeling as his tongue played with your nipples.

Hey gorgeous, would you mind making me an Imagine with Niall, one where we are like playing around and we start play fighting and something bad happens by accident? If its too much of a hassle don't worry about it... Please and thank you, have a nice day/night where ever you are :) xx

Here you go, darling


During a Friday night you and Niall were having a lazy night as you both decided to stay home, actually you just found yourselves without anything to do. So you laid lazily on the couch switching through channels not paying attention to any of them, while Niall, who sat across from you, was doing something on his phone, probably twitting. Soon he got bored and started to throw at you small paper balls.
“Niall, would you stop?” You asked annoyed.
“I’m bored.” He whined throwing at you another paper ball.
“So what I’m supposed to do about it?” You questioned and got up slightly so you could face him. “Hey, is that my book you’re rolling the balls out of?”
“Maybe..” He mumbled and quickly put away the book but you just shook your head, rolling your eyes.
“Let’s do something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…Play FIFA.” You shook you head vigorously as you knew that Niall would win while you just get bored of seeing him show off his victory dance over and over again.
“Cook something together?!”
“No.” You turned him down. Too much mess.
“You’re so boring.” Niall groaned and threw a pillow at you, but he caught you off guard so your confused and shocked expression of a pillow hitting you out of nowhere, made Niall burst out laughing.
“Game on, Horan.” You took the same pillow and threw it in Niall’s direction, but failed miserably causing Niall to laugh even more. While he was bust at making fun of you, you took another pillow that was near you and threw it at him. This time you got him straight in the face.
“Who’s laughing now?” You asked with a little grin across your lips, happy of Niall’s surprised expression. But he didn’t waist any time, he got up from the armchair and calmly said:” Well you asked for it.” Your eyes widened knowing where he was aiming: tickling. He knew how much you were ticklish and all the time he got advantage of it.
“You wouldn’t.” You stated almost as challenging him but inside you knew he would. In fact, as soon as you said that, he ran towards you ready to tickle you to death but you ran away so he started chasing after you around the house until he caught you.
“No, no, no.” You yelled trying to free yourself from Niall’s arms, tightly around your waist. As his long fingers reached your ribs, your laughing and screams filled the room while you squirmed and tried to get away. You fought in every possible way, foot, hands, everything just to free yourself from Niall. Even if you were getting exhausted and out of breath, somehow you got a way to escape.
“Break! I’m… Out.. Of.. Breath.” You said catching a breath, so Niall did from across the room, even if he still had that mischievous smile of his across those pink lips; in fact not a minute passed that he playfully ran towards you, surprising you with an attack. Trying to defend yourself, still not ready to go back to your playful fight, you ended up hitting him right in the family jewels. His hands went there immediately as he dropped to his knees dramatically.
“Oh my God!” you gasped as Niall groaned. You shouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop the little giggle that were escaping through your lips.
“This is not funny!” Niall let out in a girlish voice.
“This is revenge!” you said smugly and laughed slightly as Niall moaned on the floor but then decided to help him.
“Do you need me to get you some ice?” you offered.
“Yeah..” Niall groaned shaking his head in response, causing you to laugh even more.
“Don’t be a drama queen, everything’s gonna be okay.” You told him sympathetically before leaving for the kitchen. In reply you got another groan.

Hope you like it:) xoxo

asked by thatiswhatlifeis



Don’t we all..

The Diary of a Killer

DAY 2 

"I don’t know what you have done, but you’re fucked. Maybe it’ll comfort you knowing that you gonna die and the weirdest thing is that I envy you because as soon as you’ve gotten some bullets in your body for you it’s gonna be the end, while I will have to live."
I wanted to ask that man what kind of person he was and if he was already waiting for me, when the buzzing sound of the telephone interrupted my dialogue with the picture. Before picking up, I opened the curtains and the windows so some fresh air could clear my mind. It was already day and the bright morning sun was hurting my eyes.
“Slept well?” The man of tasks greeted me.
“Have anything for me?” I replied.
“Problems. A lot of problems. Too many problems.” He sighed.
“Don’t overload my suitcase. Today I have to leave, remember?” I said.
“Sure. But before you have a meeting with a bellhop down at the bar of the hotel. He’ll be there at 10AM asking for the translator of the Central Bank, as we know you are the one. Then I’ll call you at 10:15.”
“Okay.” I said simply.
I looked at the clock. It was just 9 in the morning. So I went to take a shower, where I stayed for a bit under the cold water.

“Sooner or late it was supposed to happen. You’re never home and he needs someone’s attention, cure, hugs. You don’t deserve him.” From the mirror in front of me told the girl, who looked exactly like me.

“I’m not complaining. I know how to lose but I can’t stand disloyalty.” I replied while we were sharing the same comb.

“A killer who talks about loyalty. Interesting.” She laughed slightly at me.

At ten o’clock I was down at the bar ordering a coffee. The bellhop was on time. He was a boy about 18 years old, who came in holding up a sign, on which was written Central Bank translator, almost as it was the prize of Tour de France. 

He gave me an envelop and left, so did I, bringing my coffee and a muffin to my room. There, while waiting for the phone call from the man of tasks, I opened the envelop. There were 5 photos of the man, who I monologued to all night long. The first one showed him as he was walking out of a luxurious hotel and talking to a man. He had dark chocolate curls, much longer than in the photo I already knew. In the second he was about to hit the ball on a golf field. A caddie was showing him something in the distance, but the view of woods wasn’t telling me anything. The third photo was about him walking in a street, that looked really familiar, yet I had no idea of where it was. In the corner there was a sign, but the photographer couldn’t manage to take a complete view of it, I could read only “boulevard”. The forth was almost a duplicate of the one in my possession, only written part on the card changed:”second encounter of N.G.O.”. In the last one I could barely recognize him. His hair was darker and he was wearing a bandana, completely different from his usual suits and ties dressing. Something bothered me in that photo so I walked closer to the window to observe it more carefully. The man was driving on a motorbike in place that I immediately recognized, because the photographer took the photo of him right in front of the El Pendulo library in Mexico City, but this wasn’t what bothered me but something was swelling his clothes at his waist. He was wearing a grayish pullover and tight jeans, probably under those clothes he had a gun.

Right in that moment buzzed the phone.
“Have you received the photos?” The man of tasks asked.
“Yes, and I think I’m ready.” I said.
“The contractors want a perfect work, at the same time unforgettable.” He explained.
“Good. When I’m gonna leave?”
“You’ll have to wait few days more because we still don’t have our precious prey.”
“Okay. Today I’m leaving for Paris. Call me there.” I said and hung up.
So our man disappeared. Where have you gone? They want for him a death that nobody will ever forget. Damn! It wasn’t a task that I accepted with pleasure. The last time I completed something like that was in Los Angeles, with a man who had forgotten to pay his debts. To enter his house, I had to knock out two security guards, extra work that doesn’t appear on the reward check, and after tying him and placing a fake bomb on his chest I called the police, firemen, ambulance and before going away I left seven bullets in his left thigh. He had bled yelling for help, but nobody had the courage to come closer to him because of the bomb.
I felt sorry for the man in the photo. It looked like his sins were big but he was clever. The man of tasks called me just when the prey were perfectly available, because I simply went to kill them. To find them wasn’t my task.
One photo in Mexico, another in Miami. Thinking of drugs was too simple and chores like those were of the assassins of traffickers, unless he was a “VIP”.
“Damn, dude”, I said looking at the photo,”what were you looking for in Mexico and Miami? Or what have you found in those two? Then why pretending to be a philanthropist in two councils of N.G.O.? Maybe you’ll explain better when it’s gonna be your time. I’ll make sure we’ll have enough time to talk a little.”
I was paying the bill when at the reception they told me I had an incoming call. I immediately recognized the voice of my ex.
“How are you?” The insecure voice asked.
“Good.” Replied.
“Have you slept?” He continued in a worried tone.
“Yes. Haven’t you?”I asked ironically.
“It’s been three days that I can’t even close an eye.” He confessed, his voice breaking a little.
“I’m sorry for you. Maybe your Mexican slut can help you.” I advised him before hanging up angrily.
During all the way to the airport, again I had to bear the stupid talking of the taxi driver. Once again I cried the absence of a forty-five in my right hand.
In the airport, before going to the check in, I went to the restroom to wash my face as the unusual warm weather was blurting my mind. In the mirror, a girl who was really similar to me was drying her face with tissues given to her by an thin and silent man similar to the one I had by me.
“You’re exaggerating.” The girl in the mirror said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I replied.
“Excuse me?” The thin tissue man mumbled.
“It’s not your business.” I spat out, shoving him off.
“See? Calm down. He’s not the only guy on the earth. Listen, you still have a lot of time. Send the suitcase to Paris and relax.” The girl said. She was right. I always followed her advices, especially the professional ones. I remember a task where I had to eliminate an industrial in Austin, Texas. He was very clever and he found a way to protect himself on the road to his office: he travelled on a school bus full of kids, sitting in between of them. Texan news talked with admiration about him, the benefactor who gave up his limousine and financed instead scholastic transport. They didn’t know that he was using those kids as human shield.
“I don’t want to kill kids, but I don’t have any other choice, his office is impregnable.” I said to the girl in the mirror.
“Use your brain. The man is a Yankee, synonym to patriot. Got it?”
“Not even a bit. I don’t like when you talk as an oracle.”
“The 4th of July is near and he won’t lose a chance to show off his patriotism. It is where you have to aim.” So I aimed there. I came to know that before the feast he would have shown some of his patriotism, so the morning of 3rd of July I put a costume of one of the seven dwarfs, the dumb one with big ears, and between Mickey mouses, Minnie mouses, wolves and other monsters who were waiting for the school bus to give kids candies, Stars and Stripes flags and free meals in McDonalds. The bus stopped at perfect timing and we, the dwarfs, came closer to the small windows through which small curious faces were looking. The prey, was accompanied by two gorillas of men, who still probably are wondering what happened, because I went into action as soon as I saw him and at the distance of two meters I shoot into him an expansive bullet of caliber forty-five. In between the happy screaming kids, the click of the silencer sounded lighter than a sigh and the prey fell down with a hole in the middle of his forehead. It was a clean job, even if I hate using expansive bullets because they damage the striations of the barrel.
I was having a coffee at the mini bar near the check in area when unconsciously glanced at the newspaper of the man who was sitting next to me. It was a Turkish newspaper, I had no idea what was written on, but on it there was my prey, the man of the photo, smiling in between some men and women.
“Excuse me, do you speak English?” I asked to the reader of the newspaper.
“English, Spanish, French and Dutch. It’s not easy sell carpets nowadays.” He replied wiggling his great mustache.
“That man, the third in the photo, he’s a friend of mine. Can you tell me what’s written under the photo?”
“It says that the group take part at a convention of architecture. Megalopolis and migration problems are the main topic. It started yesterday and ends in three days. That’s it.”
“Where’s the convention?”
“Istanbul. It’s a beautiful city. I’m from there.” The carpets seller explained smiling.
After few minutes I surprised with a call the man of tasks.
“Istanbul? Are you sure?”
“He’s at a conversion of architecture that’ll end in three days.”
“Stay where you are and phone me in an hour.” I did what he said. I heard the speaker calling somebody with my same name several times, inviting her to board as soon as possible, and I realized that my suitcase was about to leave without me and it would do laps and laps on the continuous strip of the Parisian airport, alone and abandoned, while I was waiting for the sixty minutes to pass, that probably would take me to Istanbul, to my prey, the man who I had to take off the market in an exemplary manner.

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