One Direction Prefrences and Imagines

Prefrence #80 "you get in a fight and your kid gets scared"

Harry: He was never the one to scream and rarely raised his voice, but when you didn't have his back the fuel inside him grew stronger and stronger, within a matter of minutes the plates where shattered on the floor, "Why .. You're never.. I just want you to support me!!" He yelled out in exhaustion . " I'm always here!!! I'm always here!" you yelled out trying to keep your voice from  braking. You heard some low weeps in the other side of the room  and immediately you  stopped. Your heart broke when you heard Darcy crying, you tried to ge4t closer to get but she would move closer to the couch behind her. You waited for an hour until you spoke to her "Darcy.. I'm sorry .. look daddy and I had a little fight but I love him very much.... we..daddy and mummy don't like to fight.. Darcy daddy and I love each other.." she started to  wipe the tears fro m her eyes with the sleeves of her pajamas. " If that's true then kiss daddy!" she said with a tone of disappointment in  her voice. You kneeled up and walked over to your husband he stood still and watched your every move, you slowly warped you arms around his fit torso and whispered " I love you.. I'll be there.. I never want Darcy to see us fighting again.. ever again!" he let out a sigh and some tears fell  from  his eyes " Me too (y/n)" you slowly kissed him letting some tears fall from  your eyes.

Liam: "No, Liam, that's not what I meant," You sigh, exhausted and beyond fed up with this argument. It's been ongoing for about an hour, and Liam's volume gradually increases with every desperate plea from you to drop it. It all started when you accidentally said something about how he's never around, and that he's missing out on pinnacle moments in his son's life. You didn't mean it in a vicious way, you were simply stating a fact and expressing that it upsets you, because you know how much he loves Eli. It must have hit a nerve because he simply lost it. You misspoke, you admitted it, but he still refuses to let it go. "Well that's not how it sounded to me, don't you think I'm trying?" He shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration, clearly missing the point of what you're trying to say. You know that it's not his fault and you're not blaming him for going out and living his dream, but he has to understand that it's just as hard on you as it is for him. You bury your face in your hands and fight back the urge to scream for him to shut his damn mouth. "Liam, seriously drop it, I can't argue with you anymore," You finalize, flitting your hands about your face in a frazzled manner and stepping past him. You start to make your way to the bedroom, huffing yet another sigh when you hear his thundering footsteps and protests behind you that this fight is far from over. Ignoring him, you slam the bedroom door in his face, locking and leaning against it, hoping that he'll just go away. You jump about ten feet in the air when he starts trying to beat it down, shouting that you have no right to lock him out of his own room. His language is foul, and you pray that he doesn't wake up your young son. Right on cue, you hear the faint whimpering of the little boy, hiding somewhere in your room. "Mommy?" He whines, revealing his head from under your bed with tears in his big brown eyes, "Mommy, why is Daddy so mad?" You bite your lip and shake your head, opening your arms for your son and allowing him to fall into them. You don't know how to explain it in a way that the three year old will understand, so you just pet his head and whisper comforting words. "Daddy's just frustrated right now, honey," You say, knowing in your heart that it's true, "he's going through a lot right now. He's not mad at you, don't worry." You wish that your son didn't have to be exposed to this, but at the same time, you're glad that you have him to keep you strong when things like this happen. Louis: "Does everything always have to be a war with you?" You snap, caught up in yet another fight with your hotheaded husband, "Does it make you feel better to annihilate me and make me feel about this big?" You lift your hand and display the small distance between your thumb and forefinger. He rolls his eyes at your accusation and scowls, tired of being made out to be the bad guy though in this particular situation, he is. Louis has a bit of a complex in which he does not like to be ordered around, especially after a long night in the studio and he's already a bit cranky. So that's why asking him to do the dishes resulted in World War III. "Oh, would you stop playing victim?" He says as he stalks off, only to have you grab his arm and pull him back seconds later. It's a big mistake on your part, and you can feel the muscles in his arm tense while you continue to hold your ground. You're not about to let him see how much he intimidates you. "Get your hands off me. Now." He growls, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to keep himself in check. When you don't budge, he rips his arm out of your grasp and closes in on you with clenched teeth and fists, "You're pushing it, (Y/N)." Off in the distance, you can see your little Wendy lurking in the doorway, wide-eyed and terrified. She clutches her stuffed bunny rabbit tightly to her chest, staring at her father as if she doesn't even know who he is. At first he doesn't notice her, too heated and angry with you to bother with his surroundings. She shakes her head in disbelief that he would talk to you like that, and be so rough with you, her mother, the woman he's supposed to love. "Daddy, stop!" She cries, allowing the tears to slip down her flushed cheeks. Louis freezes upon hearing her tiny voice and presses his lips into a thin line, causing you to feel bad for him regardless of how much of an asshole he can be. He slowly turns his head to face her and his crystal blue eyes soften immediately, praying that his daughter didn't see too much. However, you're fairly certain that she saw enough. Wendy says nothing else, focusing all of her attention on standing tall and brave before her father, ready to defend you if she needs to. You've never seen this side of her, and you hate that her own father had to bring this out in her. Niall: "I just don't understand why you found it funny, but whatever, it's fine," You say, crossing your arms over your chest and staring out the window at the city lights whizzing by. Pursing your lips, you clear your throat and make it very clear that you're angry with your husband. It was your father-in-law's birthday, and the three of you, your two year old daughter included, ventured out to Niall's childhood home for the day. It was a fun time, and you love seeing Felicity interact with her grandparents and her cousin Theo, who she just adores. However, you had to deal with the snooty comments from Greg's wife, who just never seemed to take a liking to you. Today it was a remark about how you appeared to have a few leftover pounds of baby fat in your torso area, her words conveyed in such a way that would go undetected by the male brain. Your husband had laughed, smiled at you, and continued listening to a story being told by his brother while his wife just smirked and sipped on her champagne. You said nothing until you got in the car and drove away, eager to hear his excuse for this one when he knows your distaste for the woman. "Oh, honey, stop. I wasn't laughing at what she said, I was laughing because it's not true at all," He said, shaking his head at the fact that you'd think he'd be insensitive enough to laugh at a comment about your weight. He's pretty dense, but he's not that stupid. You still don't buy it, and you whirl around to face him, eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on your lips. "Well, you should have said that instead of allowing her to think that you agree with her," You lecture, reaching out to slap his shoulder, which causes him to flinch and veer to the left. The car slides into the other lane, earning shrieks in terror from your part as your eyes fall upon a car coming right for you. The headlights shine on both of your faces and you can hear Felicity's tiny screams coming from the backseat, "Mommy stop!" You glance back at her, watching the way her blue eyes widen and how she curls in on herself. "Jesus Christ!" Niall shouts, turning the wheel in the nick of time as the other car blares their horn, "Are you fucking nuts, (Y/N)?" He hollers, glancing in the rear-view mirror at your distraught daughter, who's clearly too young to understand what's going on, but can feel the tense atmosphere in the car. Mommy's afraid, so she should be too. You instantly burst into tears, blubbering apologies and declaring that you're a world class idiot. The only thing you succeeded in doing while fighting with your husband is traumatizing Felicity, and that's far from okay. Zayn: You watch from the couch as your husband stumbles through the front door, clumsily slipping out of his jacket and tossing it onto the coat hanger in the foyer. You're furious, so sick of waiting up for him until ungodly hours of the night, just so you're sure that he's home safe. Since the birth of your daughter a little over a year ago, the two of you have been fighting a lot more and he copes with that by finding comfort at the bottom of a bottle. For the longest time you just let it happen, hoping that it was simply a phase that he'd grow out of, and that someday he'd come through the door completely sober and act like the same man that you fell in love with. So far, you've come up a bit short, barely able to recognize him anymore. "Zayn," You start, waiting until his glazed over caramel eyes fall on you before continuing. You mean business this time, "I'm done with this. No more, Zayn, I can't do it anymore." He scowls at you, waving you off with a lazy flick of his hand, not about to listen to what you have to say. That's not going to fly with you: he's going to listen, or else he'll regret it. You step right into his path with your child in your arms and look him up in down, breathing in the scent of pure alcohol and cigarette smoke that's forever embedded into his leather jacket. "Zayn, you have a daughter now, you can't keep doing this. What kind of example are you setting for her? You're not some deadbeat dad, you're better than this," You scold, hoping to hit a nerve, especially with Willow right there in front of him. When he finally decides to acknowledge you, staring down at the both of you with such vengeful eyes, you can't help but take an involuntary step back. He's frightening when he's angry, and you fear that you've just awoken the sleeping giant. "What the fuck do I care about an example? I didn't even fucking want the kid in the first place," He seethes, his tone causing the little girl to look up at her father with confused eyes. Not thinking clearly, he completely loses it, screaming in Willow's face, "You hear that? You were a fucking mistake." Though she can't understand his words completely, she knows that he's upset and that she's afraid of his tone of voice. You cradle her against your chest, beyond disgusted with your husband, wondering how in God's name he could ever say that to his own daughter, his own flesh in blood. Willow begins to wail into the crook of your neck, and that just about does it for you. "Get out," You say, shaking your head to let him know that you're not about to put up with an argument, "Get out of this goddamn house before I call the cops, Zayn. Come back when you grow the fuck up." He stares at you for what seems like forever, debating whether or not to fight you on this, or if you really mean it or not. When he finally realizes that you're serious, he turns on his heel and stumbles back out the way he came, slamming the door behind him. Nobody talks that way to your daughter, especially her father.