zayn malik imagines

fighter zayn

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The click of your heels echoes softly as you walk. Your legs bump against Zayn's, your arms circled around his waist, his arm over your shoulder, and your cheek pressed against his leather jacket. You smile up at him as he speaks, making sure you had as good a time as you say you did.

"Yes, Zayn, I told you," you start with a sigh, shaking your head at him. "Don't ever doubt that any night I spend with you is anything less than..."

"Perfect?" he teases, smiling down at you.

"Perfect," you agree, whispering the word against his lips as you lean up slightly to brush your lips gently over his. He tastes faintly of alcohol and cigarettes, a bittersweet combination that only tastes good on his lips.

His smile breaks the kiss and you peck his lips once more before lowering yourself back to normal height, keeping yourself tucked into his side as you take a familiar shortcut to get back to his place. You're in the middle of laughing about a story of a very friendly, very drunk young woman in the bathroom who you'd had to help wash her hands, barely aware of your surroundings when a man in a hoodie brushes passed Zayn, bumping his shoulder against him harshly as he rushes passed. Zayn looks over his shoulder the man who looks back at him and you follow his stare, quickly looking back to your boyfriend when the man sneers at you. Zayn's gaze remains fixated on the man until another pushes passed him, bumping into his shoulder.

"Fuck off!" Zayn calls to the two men, still looking over his shoulder.

"Zayn," you hiss, shoving your shoulder softly into his side. "Just leave it, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, looking down at you apologetically. "Sorry."

You glance over your shoulder at the two men standing together as you walk off.

"Headed home so soon?" a voice calls from behind you.

Zayn ignores the man and keeps walking, but stops when the man calls out again, demanding to not be ignored. He turns slowly, his arm tightening around you protectively.

"That's better," the man says, a dark grin on his face. "Zayn Malik, is it?" he questions, moving towards where you and Zayn stand, the two from before, his henchmen maybe, following close behind.

"Yeah what of it?" Zayn growls at the man, earning a look from you.

"Ay, play nice," the man says, waving his hands in surrender, Zayn's eyes rolling in response. "And who's this?" he adds, nodding towards you.

Zayn takes a step in front of you narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Nobody you need to know," he says. The man simply waves his hands again, mumbling "Pretty little thing," under his breath.

The creep smiles when Zayn takes a step forward, threatened by his comment about you.

"I've heard your name around, mate, been seeing your face. You've got quite the punching arm there," he says with a nod towards Zayn. "Coming up rather quickly, eh?"

"If you're here to pick a fight then just-"

"I think I'd rather see you in the ring."

"Then what in bloody hell are you messing around for?"

You tug at Zayn's jacket when he raises his voice, trying unsuccessfully to get his attention.

"It's my friend that couldn't wait," he says darkly as fourth figure steps seemingly out of the darkness, joining the other three. "See, I'm all for a fair fight," he starts, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "But that doesn't mean I won't watch one that isn't."