Louis Tomlinson Imagines And Or Preference

Imagine 1

  All credit goes to the rightful owner.

        The music was loud. You loved it loud. Louis had just gotten back from tour and tonight was the night to go out. You were ready. Ready to be with him and in this environment. This scene was perfect for you two. Your eyes scan the floor from the private loft Louis had reserved. You're looking for him. He had been gone for longer than it took to get more drinks. Your eyes continue to focus on each individual hoping his familiar face would show up. It doesn't though and you continue to scan. Your focus is brought from the bar to the commotion happening just underneath you. The music is so loud so you have no idea what is being said and why it's such an issue. You squint to better your vision and notice that Louis is beneath you. You can tell he's pissed. The guy in front of him obviously having said something to royally upset him. He looks up at you, his mouth moving and Louis follows suit before turning back to him, his fist connecting with the guy's face. Your eyes grow wide at the site. "Louis, no!" You shout helplessly, quickly running to the stairs to get down to the main floor. By the time you reach him, he is being escorted out of the club, the bouncer's grip tight on his arms. "I don't care who the hell you are, you aren't going to fight in my club!" He says as he shoves Louis out the entrance. You stand at the door, starring as Louis wipes the blood from his lip. You shake your head. Of course he had to fight. He had to get better control of his temper. You walk back inside and up to the loft to get your clutch and Louis's jacket before heading back down to the floor. You walk over to the bouncer that had just thrown your boyfriend out. "I'm so sorry about that," you apologize to him. "Tell him he better get his shit together if he wants to come back. I can't have him fighting the promoter." Shit. Of course he would fight the most important man in the building. You nod and head out to confront the trouble maker. You hand him his jacket as the two of you get into the cab he had obviously called while you were back inside. "What the hell was that all about?" You question not making any accusations just yet. He's silent. He knows you're disappointed. "Louis..." He looks at you and you are forced to see the severity of his injuries. You shake your head at his cut lip, bruising right eye, and the gash on his forehead. "You're going to need stitches," you tell him and he shakes his head. "Uh, yeah. That's really deep," you comment, scooting closer and pushing his hair back to see the cut more clearly. "We need to go to the hospital," you say to the driver and he nods his head, slowing down to change his route. "I don't need to go to the fucking hospital," Louis spits. You take your hand out of his hair and sit back. "We're going to the hospital, you need stitches." The ride is silent all the way to Royal London. You ask the taxi to wait for you outside, promising to pay the extra fair for however long you and Louis are inside. He is taken straight back into a room and you follow closely behind. "You going to tell me what happened?" You inquire as the nurse leaves the room to get the doctor who will stitch Louis's head back together. "He was just running his mouth," he responds, not looking at you. "About what?" If you didn't press him, he wouldn't tell you anything. "Just shit." "Louis." "He was just talking shit about me and the lads. Said he didn't want me in his club." "So you punched him for that?" You didn't understand where his anger had come from. "He also said you were too good for me, that I could leave you there for him to fuck you the way you deserve." Oh. That's why he had looked up at you. You understood him now. His reaction was justified.