One Direction: Imagine you find out he's ticklish

Harry: It’s been a long day, and you finally give in to your fatigue, resting your head on his shoulder. You feel him squirm slightly, but think nothing of it, and nestle further into the crook of his neck. “Ahahaha d-don’t,” he protests, pushing your head off his shoulder. “But I’m tired,” you whine, giving him the puppy eyes that you know he can’t resist. “But I’m really ticklish there,” he murmurs. “What was that,” you ask him. “I’m ticklish.” “What was that Styles?” “I’m ti- you heard me the first time!” You smirk. “Guilty as charged; I just wanted to make sure that I heard you right, so that I could do this,” Before he gets a chance to react, you launch yourself onto him, rapidly tickling his neck. “You know Haz, I’m not so tired anymore,” you tell him, grinning as he tries to bat your hands away unsuccessfully, and his face turns an adorable shade of pink.

Liam: “You sure you want me to do this.” “For the third time yes!” You sigh and press down harder on his back until you hear the crack he wanted. “OW- oh god that’s better.” You smirk and rub his shoulder blades and feel him relax. “Thanks,” he sighs happily. Smirking, you move down and absentmindedly stray a bit too close to his sides, feeling him jump. “No don’t tickle me,” he pleads almost instantly. “I didn’t know you were ticklish,” you say, beginning to walk your fingers up and down his sides. “Ahahahaha stahahahahahap,” he shouts, squirming around, but not hitting your hands away for fear of hurting you. “Where are you the worst LiLi,” you ask. “Mihihi rihihibs,” he answers you truthfully. You stop, and ask, “Why the hell would you tell me that?” He blushes and replies, “Because I don’t want to lie to you. And you would have found out soon enough anyway.” Smirking, you move, guilt free, up to his rib cage and listen to him laugh louder and higher than before. “Well it’s good that you tell the truth. So now would be a good time to say that I don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

Louis: “Get up!” No response, for the twenty-fourth time. Sighing, you check your phone for ways to wake someone up, as you’re already screamed, made plenty of noise, and opened the drapes. Scrolling through the entries, you come across one that says to tickle the person’s feet. Though you never thought of him as ticklish, you figured it would be worth a try, and push the blanket up, revealing his bare feet on the edge of the bed. “Wakie wakie Lou,” you taunt him, lightly scribbling over his soles, watching his face for his reaction. His lips twitch and you see him tense, so you speed up, digging in under his toes. You see his chest rise and not fall and can tell that he’s holding his breath. “You’re going to have to breathe soon Lou,” you say, raking your nails under his digits. Squeaking, you see his eyes shoot open, as the previously silent room is suddenly filled with his high-pitched, uncontrollable laughter.

Niall: “INCOMING!” You have enough time to turn around before your insane Irish boyfriend crashes into you, knocking you both onto the ground. “HORAN HUG,” he screams, and you wince at his volume, but laugh despite yourself, even though he is crushing you. Smirking, you two wrestle on the ground for a minute before he lets you pin his arms down over his head. “You let me win, didn’t you,” you ask, holding down his wrists with one hand, which you knew he could easily escape if he wanted to. “Maybe,” he replies cheekily. “Well since I’m stronger than you, you wouldn’t be able to escape if I did this then,” you say wriggling your fingers up and down his side. He squeaks and breaks into laughter, but miraculously keeps his arms up. Grinning, you edge up his side further and further until you feel him pull at his wrists. Looking down, you see your fingertips on the edge of his underarms and smirk. “Well if you’re about to break free, then I have nothing to lose.” You shoot the hand keeping his arms up down to his other underarm and tickle him ruthlessly. He shoots his arms down in defense and laughs hysterically, thrashing uncontrollably under your power. “You know that you’re basically locking me in your worst spot, right,” you ask, watching his face turn red.

Zayn: You’ve been trying to get his attention for five minutes now, but with his headphones on loudly, it’s been rather difficult. You know that you have his attention, and he knows you know, but he’s not letting on. “Zayn!” He starts humming the tune of whatever song he’s listening to, and you groan loudly. “Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn,” you complain, poking his side each time you say his name. He flinches away each time you do and you smirk, finally figuring out how to get to him. You push up his shirt over his stomach and dig into his hips. He jumps as though he has been electrocuted and starts laughing uncontrollably, bucking his hips in all directions to try and get you off.  “IHIHIHI”M LIHIHIHIHISTEHEHENIHIHIHNG,” he shouts, yanking off his headphones. You smirk and slow down. “I forgot what I was trying to tell you. So,” you say, scribbling over his sides, “I’ll just keep tickling you until I remember.”