Preferences and Imagines

He Insults You

Harry: "Are you really going to eat that?" your boyfriend of one year asks you while you're out at dinner. At first you think he's joking. But then he adds, "Maybe a salad instead?" You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "A salad?" "Yeah, (Y/N)." He turns to the waiter. "She'll have a salad." "Um, no, I won't," you say back. "Is there something you want to say to me?" You know you're not as skinny as you were when you first started dating Harry, but back then you were anorexic. Didn't he want you to be healthy? He looked uneasy. "It's just that... I noticed that you aren't as thin as you used to be, and I didn't want-" "What, didn't want a fat girlfriend?" you shout, drawing attention to the both of you. "(Y/N), calm down," he says in a low voice. "People are staring." "I thought you loved me, Harry! You're supposed to be helping me through this; not making me feel self-conscious!" "Babe, I-" You stand up and push your chair away from the table. "Well, you know what, Harry? Good job! I hope you're proud of yourself! I'm not even fucking hungry. I've been eating more for you! You told me that you cared about me and didn't want to see me like that, so I've been trying to make you happy! And now you have the nerve to tell me I need to watch my weight?" you scoff. You flip him off and walk out of the fancy restaurant without him and take a cab back to the flat you share, starting to pack your bags. In the middle of packing your suitcase, you collapse into tears. Didn't he love you? You sit on the bed and hang your head in your hands as you sob. How could he say something like that to you when he knew how sensitive you were about that? Suddenly, you can feel a pair of muscular arms wrap around you, and his weight presses down on the bed as he sits beside you. "Shhh... Don't cry, (Y/N). It's okay. I didn't mean it." "But you said-" "I was just worried about you because I saw some fans making rude comments about you. But I was wrong. You're perfect, love. I love you so much," he says, rubbing your back with one hand and smoothing your hair with the other. "I love you, too," you say, your voice cracking. "It's okay, baby. Don't cry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll never do it again."

Liam: "Can you stop?" Liam said with a long sigh. You jumped at the sound of his voice; you had been silent for a long while as you watched the film. "What am I doing?" you asked. "You want stop fidgeting and tapping your foot." You blushed and looked down. "Sorry." "God, you're just like a child," he muttered. That took you by surprise. He had always said that his favorite thing about you was your childish antics. So why was today any different? He knew you had ADHD and couldn't exactly sit still for long. You got up and went to the kitchen, where you could pace around for a while without bothering him. Then you decide you're thirsty, so you get a bottle of soda from the fridge. You see Liam appear in the doorway, looking annoyed. "Do you have to be so loud?" he snapped, referencing when you had shut the refrigerator door. You looked at the ground again. "I'm sorry," you mumbled. "God, you're just so fucking annoying sometimes!" Tears welled in your eyes. Why was Liam being like that? He never snapped at you or cursed. You took a deep breath, trying to stabilize yourself and get a grip, but you couldn't. As a result, you crossed your arms on the surface of the island and put your head down on them, soft sobs racking your body. "(Y/N)... Babe, I'm sorry," he sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I didn't mean it. It's just been a long day. I'm sorry." "B-but I-" He shook his head, cutting you off. "No, love, you didn't do anything. I'm just a bit snippy today. Any other day I wouldn't have done this. Please forgive me?" he says, wiping your tears away as you sniffle. You look up at those sad puppy dog eyes and know you can't be mad at him. You nod slowly, and he pulls you into his chest for a long hug.

 

Louis: "(Y/N), love, what are you even wearing?" he says skeptically as you come down the stairs. I give him an odd look. "What do you mean?" "It's just... that," he says, gesturing to your dress. "You don't like it?" you ask, confused. Louis usually compliments your outfits. "No, (Y/N), not at all." "Oh..." you say, a bit hurt, but he doesn't take the hint. "I mean, that cardigan and those shoes? What were you even thinking when you bought that bag, babe?" You swallow hard, fighting tears. You don't know why you're getting so worked up over it. If it had been anyone but Louis, you might have just laughed. But the fact that it was someone you loved as much as you did him openly insulting you made it so much worse. He kept jabbering on with his rant, and you sat down on the bottom step, hugging your knees to you. You could feel tears slipping down your cheeks. He was too oblivious, preoccupied with his criticizing, for about thirty seconds before he realized what was going on. "Please don't cry, babe," he said softly, crouching down in front of you and tilting your chin up with his finger so you were looking into his eyes. "Why are you crying?" "Because I love you so much, and I just want you to like me," you say through your tears." He wipes your tears away as he says, "Oh, love, I still like you. I could care less what you wear. It won't make me like you any less." "But you keep talking about my outfit, and you won't stop, so obviously it does matter," you sniffle. "No, it doesn't," he whispered. "You can wear whatever you want. I'm sorry, pumpkin. I didn't know I was hurting your feelings." He rests his chin on your shoulder and pulls you into a hug. "I love you so much. Please don't ever think I don't," he whispers. You just hold him for a long while. "Please don't," he repeats softly. You take his hand in yours and pull away, causing him to look up at you. You stand, and he gets an odd look on his face. "What are you doing?" he asks. You smile a little bit. "Come help me pick out something you like," you say. He smiles. "Well, I don't think you can wear that in public," he says with a wink, making you giggle. Oh, cheeky Lou... 

 

Niall: "You think you might want to lay off tonight?" he says as you down another shot. You look at him. Neither of you have work the next day. "Why?" you ask, furrowing your eyebrows. He sighs. "I don't care if you just get a buzz, but I don't want you getting drunk, okay?" "What's the problem, Ni? You never seem to mind before now." "I'm just tired of taking care of your drunk ass every weekend when you can't even walk a straight line!" You were so shocked you dropped your shot glass. You didn't even look down at it. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't know..." "You didn't know?!" he shouted. "This happens every weekend!" You swallow hard. "Sorry," you mumble, getting up from your barstool. You grab your bag and start for the door. "(Y/N), wait!" he calls after you. You ignore him. When you're about to push the door open, Niall steps in your way. "Princess-" "Look, you don't want to have to look after me while you're out trying to have a good time. I get it," you say. "I'll just go home." "Babe, please... You know I didn't mean it like that. It's just so hard to watch you and make sure you don't get hurt and-" "Well, now you don't have to! I can take care of myself, Horan; I don't need your help," you snap. His eyes are sad and pleading. "(Y/N)," he says softly. "Please don't do this. You know I love you." You sigh, knowing that he's being honest. "I know," you say, wrapping your arms around him. He buries his face in your neck and holds you tightly. "I love you, Niall," you whisper. "I'm sorry for freaking out on you." "It's okay, princess. I love you, too." 

 

Zayn: "Zayn, will you please quit smoking?" you whine for about the fortieth time since you've moved in together. He rolls his eyes. "God, (Y/N), how many times are you going to ask me that?" he snaps. You ignore his harsh tone. "As many times as it takes for you to stop!" you counter. He rolls his eyes. "You're so... ugh! You always have to be in charge of everything all the time!" "No, I don't!" you say, your voice slightly raised. "Yes you do, (Y/N)! You're so controlling of everything!" "Zayn, can't you see that I'm worried about you?! All I want is for you to be healthy! I want the rest of my life with you, and every time you light a cigarette, you're making us lose time together!" He rolls his eyes. "You're so damn dramatic! I don't even know what your huge problem is with it. You don't mind when I drink! That's not exactly healthy either!" You groan in frustration. You didn't want to have to say it because you knew it would only make him feel bad, but it was obviously going to have to be said. "I can't be around you when you've been smoking," you say, not looking at him. "I know, I know," he says, rolling his eyes. "You don't like the smell." "No, babe," you say, drawing your eyes back up to meet his. "I'm allergic to cigarette smoke."