One Direction Prefrences

He hurts you infront of the kids

Niall: “Don’t say that word. That’s a bad word.” Why could grownups say words that got James into trouble? Why couldn’t he say those words? He was seven years old, and pushing eight. He was smart, and very bright in class. Why did he always get in trouble for using the bad words? Why were those words so much worse than other words? Daddy says them all of the time. It had taken him so long to figure it out… it had always been such a mystery, but one day it made sense. James was sat at the dinner table with his mother and father. He picked at his carrots as he listened closely to the little argument his parents were having. He didn’t know what they were fighting about, but it didn’t seem too bad. Mom was mad about dad being late to dinner? Or was she mad about that other thing too? She always went in circles when she argued, and even at age seven, James knew that. “I’m fucking done arguing about this.” Dad muttered, standing up from the table and throwing his napkin down. That was one of the bad words. That word got James in trouble. Why? Dad stormed out of the room, swearing to himself as he went. Mom turned her head and watched him before calling after, “If you walk out of the room, I win.” She almost sang, finding a little bit of humor in whatever had made dad so red in the face. He stopped walking when she said that, and he turned around, starting to shout at her again. “You fucking bitch, I told you!” He screamed, walking toward her again. “I didn’t fucking do anything, and if you would pay some damn attention you’d fucking know that, you stupid cunt, but you don’t!” Those are bad words too. Why are those bad words? James looked back at mom, and his little heart pounded in his chest when he saw tears slip down her face.  It all made sense now… they’re bad words because they make mommies cry. That made sense now… that’s what a bad word is. In that moment, James promised himself never to use those words again… not even when he was really mad, or sad. He wouldn’t make mommy cry like that. “You call me a jerk, but that’s because I deal with you every damned day!” He cried, “So quit acting like you’re so self righteous! You and I both know you’re just a dumb brainless slut. You’re worthless without me, and you fucking know it.” Mom put her head in her hands. There were so many tears from her sad eyes that James could see them leaking through her fingers. That worthless word must have been the biggest curse word. That one made her cry the most. Don’t say that one either, James. Don’t make mommy cry.

Louis: “Sometimes daddy gets mad, baby.” Little Scarlett had heard that sentence a thousand times, and she knew what to do in the situation. “When daddy is upset, you go to your room, Scar.” Her mother would warn, hoping the little seven year old would heed her warnings. “You go to your room, and close the door, and get in your bed, sweetheart, and don’t listen.” It was routine at this point. Scarlet was used to doing just what her mother would ask, because she was scared to see him angry. She didn’t like it one bit. But that wasn’t always an option either. Scarlett had been playing with her Barbie’s on a Friday afternoon when her father had gotten home earlier than usual. He and mom were fighting again, and though she didn’t know why, Scarlett didn’t think it looked like he was too upset yet. She didn’t want to abandon her Barbie’s in the middle of the living room, so she kept on playing with them, dressing one up in bright pink go-go boots. “I said don’t ask.” Her dad shouted. Scarlett looked up in confusion, not knowing what they would say next. What was going on? “I SAID DON’T ASK!” Dad screamed that time, lunging toward mommy. She cowered away from him, and put her hands in front of her face. Why would she do that? Was she scared of daddy too? “Come here.” He spat, lunging toward her again too late as mom was already running out of the kitchen. She was crying again. Mommy always cries. Daddy turned around, and started to chase her through the house. They were acting like the kids on the playground, but they weren’t laughing in the same way. Mommy ran around the couch near where I was playing, and daddy ran behind her, nearly stepping on one of her Ken doll’s heads. Scarlett knew it was time to go to her room, so she grabbed what few toys she could carry, and ran down the same hallway her parents had gone. Looking up, she saw daddy push their room’s door opened, and he grabbed mommy, pushing her down onto the bed, and screaming in her face. He had her pinned down like she couldn’t move, like maybe he was going to tickle her, but he didn’t. He pulled back, and hit her face, doing it a second time when she cried. Scarlett dropped her toys on the floor, and she felt her little heart throbbing in her chest. It hurt to see this, and she knew she wasn't supposed to. Quickly, the little girl ran into her room, jumping onto her bed, and covering her head with pillows. She wasn’t supposed to see that. “You go to your room, and close the door, and get in your bed, sweetheart, and don’t listen.” She remembered her mother always saying. “Don’t listen.”

Harry: “Mom, I’m hungry.” Jeremy groaned, walking in with his skateboard in hand. Now that the boy was thirteen, his appetite was much bigger, and his metabolism was working as quickly as a whistle. His mother smiled at him, and nodded. “It’s twenty minutes.” She had told him. “Go play video games, or something, babe.” Jeremy rolled his eyes, shrugging and starting toward the living room to do just that. “I’m hungry.” He complained, plopping down onto the couch. It wasn’t long before Harry was walking into the house too, kicking his shoes off and taking his cigarette from between his lips, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. “Harry, please don’t smoke in the house.” Y/N whined, stirring her pot of soup, and looking back at Jeremy who had caught his mother’s glance. “I’m tired, Y/N.” Harry argued, putting the cigarette between his lips again, and inhaling as he walked to the kitchen. “Harry, please. I don’t want you smoking in front of Jeremy.” She whispered, stepping closer to her husband. Harry rolled his eyes, “He’s thirteen, not an infant, Y/N.” He commented, looking back toward the boy in the living room. “Harry-“ She started, watching as he pushed himself up from the counter where he leaned, and grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the alcohol cabinet. “ He didn’t reply, expecting her to just continue. “Harry.” She said again, not knowing how to even ask the question without upsetting him. “Spit it out.” He said, leaning up against the counter opposite her again, and taking a sip of whiskey. “Harry, please… I don’t want him doing things like that.” She whispered, scared to even continue.  He glared back at her, and his arms crossed in front of his chest. Y/N took an instinctive step back, leaning up against the counter opposite him. “You don’t want your boy acting like your husband?” Harry asked, snickering a little bit and taking another sip from the bottle. “Good luck.” Y/N frowned, looking back into the living room where her son sat, watching the television and not paying them any attention. “Could you at least smoke outside?” She asked, “Please?” Harry had already started toward the bedroom when she spoke, and his shoulders flexed in frustration as he turned around and glared at her. Shaking off the anger, he took a deep breath and started toward the bedroom again. “Harry!” Y/N shouted angrily, finally having had enough. “What?” He yelled right back. The rumble of his voice made her jump back, and her eyes met with Jeremy’s as he had turned to see what they were shouting about. Harry scoffed, finally having enough, and crossing into the kitchen again, grabbing Y/N’s hand, and pushing her back up against the counter. “You really wanna piss me off right now?” He asked, squeezing her wrist his hand that was shaking in anger. She didn’t even know why he was so upset, but it wasn’t uncommon. He was upset all of the time. “Dad,” Jeremy called from the living room, hopping off of the couch, and jogging into the kitchen. “Dad, let her go.” He spoke in a quiet voice, not demanding, but reasoning. Harry squeezed her wrist tighter, and pushed her further against the counter, exhaling smoke from his lips into her face. “Dad!” Jeremy shouted, “Let her go, come on.” At that, he stepped back. Harry scoffed to himself, putting the cigarette between his lips and inhaling again, blowing it into his wife’s face. “You cross me again, I’ll fix the problem.” He threatened, “I mean both of you.”

sorry this is a violant one felt bad but...