Band Imagines and Preferences cx

Preference#21- He hits you

Band:One direction

Harry: Four hours. He said he'd be home four hours ago. That was it; you'd had enough. That night, as he stumbled into the flat at two-thirty in the morning, you finally snapped.

"Were you planning on lying to me when you got home too?" you said, startling him as he had obviously thought you were asleep.

He whipped around, his eyes blood shot and his hair a mess. He had been doing this a lot lately; coming home late, with his collar scuffed up now and then, or what he swore to be a wine stain on his tie, though you knew it was red lipstick.

"Babe, you're awake," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I am. And I'm also confused, Harry."

"What about?" He tried to act innocent by pretending to be stuck trying to unbutton his shirt, but you could see the way his hands slightly shook as he avoided direct eye contact.

"About why my boyfriend has been lying to me for who knows how long! You told me you were at Niall's tonight, Harry, but when I called him he had no idea what I was talking about. Don't tell me you think I can't smell the cheep perfume, either, because we both know every night you wreak of it!" you said, venom laced delicately within your words.

"Wait, are you accusing me of cheating, (Y/N)?" he gaped, eyes narrowing and his face turning red as anger began to course through his veins.

"Oh, of course not! No, actually, I'm accusing you of being a manwhore, Harry! A lying, cheating, selfish, fucking—"

You were cut off with a fierce slap to the cheek, causing you to stumble back a few feet. Your eyes watered with tears as you looked up to find him just as shocked as you. Grabbing your jacket and slipping on you shoes, you tried desperately to hold in tears.

Harry quickly tried to find the right words, but found them stuck in his throat. "(Y/N), wait!"

"Too fucking late, Harry," you spat, then slammed the door behind you as you left.

Liam: "Babe," Liam slurred, suddenly entering your bedroom where you sat on the bed, reading a book.

You looked up, finding Liam's eyes bloodshot; he was obviously drunk. You stood, making your way towards him and resting your hands on his shoulders. Laughing, you said, "let's get you ready for bed, mister."

Liam suddenly took a hold of your wrists and back you up to the bed where you both fell, him lying on top of you. "No," he said, leaning down to kiss your neck.

"Liam, you're so wasted, you need rest." You tried to push him off of you, but it was no use; he only tightened his grip on you. "Liam, stop," you said, a little more frantically this time, but he only continued to kiss your skin.

He slipped his hands up your shirt, groping your breasts, as you struggled to get away from him. "Stop fighting me," he said darkly.

You began to get scared and yelled, "Get off!"

Then he was angry, and he picked you up by the shoulders, brought you up from the bed, and threw you back against the wall. You slid to the floor and sat in the fetal position, where you cried as the bedroom door was slammed shut.

Louis: "(Y/N)!" your boyfriend's voice suddenly boomed through the flat. You remained on the couch as you heard the front door slam shut and heavy footsteps echoed through the halls.

"Louis?" you worriedly asked in a small voice. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Don't fucking call me that," he spat, angrily walking into view. He looked angry; his eyes were dark and fiery, his hands were balled in fists at his sides, and his jaw was clenched.

"W-What happened?" you whimpered, suddenly overcome with fear. Standing and walking toward him, you reached out to touch him with a shaking hand.

He swatted your hand away violently, taking a step closer to you, causer you to cower in fear. "You're cheating on me, you slut!" he yelled.

"Louis, what are you talking about? I'm not— I-I never—"

Then he hit you, right across the cheek. You stumbled backward, shocked.

You tried to quickly make a break for the bathroom, running around him into the room and locking the door behind you. You leaned against it, sobbing and choking on tears, as silence filled the flat.

Niall: Niall was drunk again. You always hated when he drank too much; he was a completely different person. Still, he would never hurt you; the worst he'd do was make fun of your hair maybe, but soon enough he'd apologize, guilt taking over and the alcohol wearing thin.

Tonight, however, was not one of those nights.

You were at the bar with Niall, watching as he downed his eighth pint of the hour. You grew tired, and pulled on his sleeve. "Can we go? I'm really tired," you yawned.

He didn't so much as look at you as he mumbled, "We just got here. Don't be a killjoy, (Y/N)."

"Excuse me?" you quipped. "We've been here for almost four hours now, Niall. Please, can we go?"

"No," he snapped, taking another swig of beer.

"Niall, you do this every night. I mean, God, you drunk," you mumbled.

"What did you just call me?" he hissed, finally turning to look at you with dark eyes.

"I called you a drunk, Niall. You're a lazy, selfish drunk who—"

Suddenly you felt a coursing pain through your cheek. Niall had just hit you.

You looked up with wide eyes to find him gaping right back at you. It was as if every ounce of alcohol left his body, and worry and pain filled his veins. "(Y/N), I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

"You just hit me," you wispered.

"I swear, I didn't— I mean, I was— I'm sorry." Tears filled his eyes and you looked away, grabbing your purse and running as far away from him as you could get.

Zayn: "Zayn, he was only trying to buy me a drink! Not to mention, my boyfriend left me at the bar to go do God knows what!" you yelled, trying to catch up to him on the sidewalk as he took large, fast steps, trying to get home as quick as possible. You watched your breath fill the cold nightly air as you folded your arms over your chest to keep yourself warm.

"So? I was gone for two minutes, and you were all over him, (Y/N)!" He yelled back, not bothering to slow down enough for you to catch up to him.

"Uh, try two hours, Zayn! And that doesn't give you the right to beat someone up! The poor boy probably has a set of broken ribs now, thanks to your fucking uncontrollable jealously! Seriously, Zayn, that's a problem!"

At that he stopped, turning around to face you and taking a firm grip of your wrists. "You don't get to tell me about my problems, (Y/N)," he darkly said, tightening his grip on you.

You winced, knowing there would be bruises on your skin tomorrow. You began to tremble with fear at Zayn's sudden abuse. "Zayn," you quietly whimpered, "you're hurting me."

Taking one look at the tears welling up in your eyes, he dropped your hands. You backed up a few feet, cowering away from him.

All of the sudden he looked sad as he tried to reach out for you.

You whimpered, stumbling away from him. "D-Don't touch me!"

"Please don't be afraid of me," he whispered. But you only began to cry harder, dodging him and sprinting all the way to your flat

I know i said i wouldn't do one direction but i couldn't help it I have some lil 1D feels as of rn