One Direction Preferences

#50 He confesses a big insecurity to you...

#50 He confesses a big insecurity to you...




Harry: You walk into the apartment to find Harry sat on his laptop. You take note that he doesn't greet you as he usually would, something must be wrong. "Hey babe," you lean over the back of the settee to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sick of it," he snaps, making you jump, but his attention is still on the screen, "Harry Styles: ladies man, cougar killer, dating this person and that person," he looks at you desperately, and it makes your heart break, "But i'm not any of those things,". You jump over the back of the settee and wrap your arms around him as he starts to cry. "I know your not Harry, I know," you try to reassure him, "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, because you know, and I know that it's not you," you're close to tears yourself as you pull apart. He stares straight at you with watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he finally speaks, "I'm scared (Y/N),". "Why?" you hold his hands tightly in yours, "Why are you scared?". "The media, everyone, god even my own management, they all want me portrayed as the flirt, the heart throb or whatever," he pulls his hands out of your grasp to hide his face, "I'm scared it's going to get drilled into me so much that it actually becomes me. That I become this guy who sleeps around, who cheats, who hurts you..." he breaks down into tears again, as do you. You fight hard to move his hands away from his face so he can see you, and you hold his face there, "That's not you Harry, and it'll never be you. You're so much stronger than you realise," your voice cracks, it physically hurts to see him in this state, so unsure of himself, "And i'm here, and the boys too, we're here every single day to remind you that that person they write about isn't you. I know you'd never do any of that to me. I know you Harry, and I trust you,". He pulls you to him, holding you close, and slowly but surely, it helps put him back together. He looks deep into your eyes, his hands caressing your cheeks, "I love you (Y/N)," he whispers, "I love you so much. You have no idea how much I care about you, I could never hurt you,". He wipes away a stray tear that had escaped from your eye and smiles weakly, "Your way too good and perfect for me,". You lean forward and press your lips to his in a passionate frenzy. When break for air, you lean your foreheads against one anothers, and you whisper breathlessly, "I love you Harry Styles. I'd trust you with my life,".












Niall: "I'm home love," you call as you step through the door of your apartment, "I got you some chicken soup,". "I, uh, you, um, you're home early," he mumbles, sniffing. You follow the sound of the familiar, but bunged up voice into the living room, "Are you feeling OK babe?" you ask quietly. "What, me? Never better," he answers, a lot chirpier than necessary, avoiding looking you in the eye. "Niall, you're ill, you should -" you notice that his eyes look red and puffy, "Have you been crying?? Are you ok?". "What, me? Crying? Pfft... no, pfft..." he gets up and makes to leave but you catch his hand, and as he looks at you properly for the first time since you got home, he slowly nods. The two of you sit back down on the settee in silence, holding hands, you waiting for him to hopefully open up. "I think they're going to kick me out of One Direction,". Your jaw literally drops to the floor as you stare at your boyfriend incredulously, that was the last thing you expected to hear come out of his mouth. "Well look at it this way," he tries to explain, seeing your stunned expression, "Well i've not been able to go to the recording studio, and i've missed two shows. And there's the fact that i'm crap -". You press a finger gently to his lips, stopping him right there, and this close up, you can see tears forming in his eyes again. "One, you're ill Niall, you lost your voice and it's only just started to come back," you squeeze his hand again, "You're having a week off to get better, that's all. Everyone just wants you to get better,". "But -". "Did they kick Zayn out when he had three weeks off a couple of months back because of tonsilitus?" you ask, eyebrow raised. "No, but Zayn's better than me," he looks down, fiddling with your hand thats entwined with his own, "Even fans think i'm rubbish and that I don't deserve to be in the band. They're right,". "Well whoever it is you've been listening to, they certainly aren't fans," you laugh lightly, "You're just as good as Zayn - you both got chosen to be in One Direction didn't you? Heck, I think you're even better,". You place a hand under his chin so he looks at you properly, "You're going nowhere Horan. Thos two shows you've missed? They were Harry, Liam, Louis and Zayn - not One Direction. It's not One Direction without you there,". He smiles finally, leaning forward to kiss each of your cheeks and then your lips, pulling you down so you're lying side by side on the settee, your head resting against his chest. "Thank you (Y/N)," he smiles, twisting your hair between his fingers, "I think I just needed someone to tell me that,". "No problem, I love you too,".












Liam: "Do you think I should get a new hairstyle? Like dye it or something?". You look up from your book and throw your boyfriend a puzzled expression, "I like your hair as it is,". He brushes off your compliment easily, "Well what about my clothes then? I was thinking about getting a new style?". You look him over in his jeans and checked shirt, "What's wrong with the style you have now?" you raise an eyebrow, "What's brought all this on Liam?". "What do you mean?" he asks, not looking at you, and you notice his neck going slightly pink. "All this scrutinising yourself," you explain. He still doesn't meet your gaze, "Maybe I just want to shake things up a bit, whats wrong with that?". You drop your book to one side and sit up more, resting your head on your hands watching as Liam starts to pace, "Well nothing I guess, but why? What's made you think it's necessary?". He takes a deep breath and finally turns to look at you, "The fans are forgetting about me or something. Some fans today, they came up to me and asked me to find the other boys and had pictures and autographs from them but not me. They actually said they didn't want me in the picture," he sighs, smiling sadly, "I'm too boring. The other lads, they all have these, personas, that the fans love," he counts them off on his hand, "Harry's the charmer, Zayn's mysterious, Louis' funny, Niall's a carefree mofo, and then i'm just... nothing,". You grab the hand he'd been tallying the lads off with and point to the final finger, "And you're Daddy Directioner," you smile, "They love your kindness and your sensibleness. And they absolutely adore your twitcams - trust me, I have a tumblr,". Your last comment manages to pull a laugh from him, as he drops down next to you on the settee, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You don't need to change at all Liam, not unless you really want to. But it has to be for you, and only you," you insist, stroking the edge of his hand with your thumb. "But those girls today..." he sighs. "Those girls today were incredibly rude and ungrateful and didn't deserve anything from any of you," you kiss his hand gently, "Please don't think you have to change for anyone, especially not for people like that. I think you're perfect,". He smiles, and rests his head against yours, breathing in deeply, "I think your pretty damn perfect too babe, I love you,".













Louis: *Bang!* "Woah!" you run into the bedroom to find a slight dint in the wall and Louis clutching his fist, "What the hell? Did you just punch the wall? Are you ok?". You rush to his side and he shows you his bleeding knuckles. You sit him down on the bed, grabbing the mini first aid kit from the kitchen before returning to sit next to him. "Can I ask what the wall did to you to deserve a punch?" you ask seriously, tending to his cuts. "You know I love you right?" he winces as you clean out the wounds. "That doesn't exactly answer my question,". "I was angry," you look up at him and roll your eyes as if to say 'no shit sherlock', and he continues, "I just read another article insisting that i'm gay and that Larry Stylinson is real,". You roll your eyes again, you can't help it, you'd had this conversation a number of times before, "Well you shouldn't read them then if it bothers you so much," you answer plainly. "But don't they bother you?" Louis all but begs. You look at him for a moment before slowly nodding, but then add, "It's just something i've had to get used to. It's not a big deal,". You go to bandage his knuckles, but a hand resting atop of your own stops your movements, and you look up to meet Louis gaze. "I'm terrified i'm going to lose you," he almost whimpers, "I've never loved anyone like I do you, and i'm so scared i'm going to lose you because of all the rumours. You know none of it's true right? That I love you?". You nod, "I know," you kiss his injured hand delicately, "You're not going to lose me Lou, especially not to those stupid rumours,". The smile that crosses his face when he knows you know absolutely warms your heart, and you can't help the smile spreading across your face too.













Zayn: "Zayn, no one here gives a damn that you're even famous, they're certainly not going to care about going to the store literally next door for a loaf of bread and popcorn without your hair done and in joggy bums," you sigh impatiently. You looked even more of a state than he did with no make up on and a massive spot right on your chin, but you didn't care at all. "Don't (Y/N)," he snaps, "For once can we not get into an argument about this?". "Well for once, can you just not care?" you snap right back, annoyed. Something in him snaps, you can see it in the way his neck muscles strain before he shouts, "How am I meant to not care about the fact i'm an ugly son of a bitch!". You stare at him at a complete loss for words, taking a few tentaive step forward to touch his arm, but he pulls away, out of your reach. "Zayn -" you start, but he interupts, "Just go get the stuff yourself yea? Save us both the trouble,". He's stood facing the wall, his back to you, but you can tell by the way his shoulders shake that he's crying. You move so you're right behind him, and it's then that you wrap your ars around his waist, holding tightly as he tries to puch you away, but you don't let go. Eventualy, he turns in your arms and cries onto your shoulder. "You don't really believe you're ugly do you?" you ask quietly, unsure as to how he might react - your scared he might block you out. You feel him nod against your neck. "But, but why?" you can't get your head around the outburst. He pulls away to look at you seriously as he explains, "Every girlfriend i've ever had, every one of them dumped me," he sniffs, "One of the main reasons they gave me for ending it was that I wasn't good looking enough for them - one of them even put it as bluntly that I was dog ugly," your silence clearly unnerves him as he laughs awkwardly, adding "Guess you could say it gave me a bit of a complex maybe?". You touch your hands gently to his face, taking him in, "How could anyone say you're ugly?" you ask, stunned, "You're the most beautiful person i've ever met. I feel like a baboons backside in comparison," you laugh. He shakes his head, "But you're beautiful, you're stunning, how could you even think that?" he looks down at you, upset. "You," you kiss his nose quickly, "You make me feel like the most beautiful person in the world every second i'm with you. Don't I make you feel the same?". "Every second i'm with you I feel like the luckiest person in the world," he counters, not quite able to bring himself to answer your question. You look down at your feet for a oment, taking a deep breath, before looking back up at you boyfriend smiling, "Ok, what do you say to going down to the shop, just as we are now?" you raise an eyebrow, "Consider it hurdle one to you acknowledging your sex god looks,". He laughs, but you can tell that underneath the amusement that he is still terrified. You take his hand and squeeze it tightly, "I'll be with you all the time," you reassure him, "And I don't plan on leaving you, ever, especially not because you're supposedly ugly," you scoff, "So looks as if you're stuck with me. So... to the shops?". After a moment, he nods determinedly, squeezing your hand tightly in return. Hurdle one, here we go.