One Direction Preferences Book 2

156. Youre the sixth member of one direction

Liam: Liam wasn't really opposed to a girl entering their world, sharing their fans, and getting some of the crazy. He did, however, mind when the whole world took you in their arms and practically pushed him out of the picture.

He despised you for it. He hated that you were so attractive, fit and didn't mind running around on stage to their flat choreography. He hated how gorgeous you were, and he hated that he loved you so much that he couldn't look at you without wanting to haul you up into his arms and kiss you.

And by God did he let you know how much he hated you for it. He pushed you around, made you feel weak, but in the end had to exit the room himself, unable to take it anymore.

Liam wasn't just mean, he was terrifyingly attracted to you and it shone in his eyes as he stared at you across the room during interviews, watching your lips move around words, casually bringing up your love life (too frequent) and your happiness in your relationship (another blow).

Liam would stare at you from a distance for a little longer, still, until he could finally pull you into a closet and confidently kiss you. For now, though, he would settle for admiring you, confusing you with his staggeringly different speeds of emotion.

Niall: "You know what, I think that we should date," Niall said, looking up at you. You look down at him, staring into his blue eyes, and you can tell he means it.

"Niall, twenty minutes ago, you were telling me how much you wanted me to jump off of something," You said, pulling on the blankets that were settled over top of you. He was laying on his side, staring up at you, hands playing with your own.

"Yeah, and then..." Niall winked, and you felt your heart clench a little, but you pushed his head away.

"Stop, you are so cheesy," you said, sliding down the bed until you were laying under him, and it was his turn to look down at you. He reached forward, taking your bottom lip in his fingers, running his tips over it with his callused skin.

"I really mean it. I like you," Niall said.

"When I first entered this band, you could've watched me die and never felt a thing."

"Yeah, but you were good and I was embarrassed that I got a boner every time you moved a pinky."

You couldn't help but laugh, snuggling into his chest, "We can try, but you have got to stop calling me sugar tits in front of the boys."

Zayn: "Zayn, did you steal all of my Marlboros?" You called from your shared dressing room.

"Why would I steal that shit? I hate those things," Zayn muttered from the couch in the middle of the room. You rooted through your bag, groaning as the need for a smoke rose up in you.

"I know you took them. I'm not an idiot," you said, turning to look at him. Ever since you two had to start sharing a dressing room, he'd gotten crabbier and crabbier.

"I didn't take any of your fucking cigarettes, (Y/N)."

"Then can I get a loan? I'm dying here," You pushed your bag away from you to feel a smack at the back of your head. You turn around to see your empty pack of cigarettes laying at your feet, and a smug looking Zayn staring back at you.

"You are such an asshole. I hate you. Why do you have to make my life hell?" You said, tears running down your cheeks from a day too long and with too much stress.

"Because I don't want you here. I don't want you to be in this band," Zayn said, standing up and slowly staggering over to you, "I don't want you to stand in this room with me, and take up my space."

You looked down, wiping your eyes as he towered over you. You could smell your cigarettes on his black shirt, and it made you so angry that you pushed on his chest weakly. He grabbed your hand, holding it to his chest as he leaned over you.

"Do you know how hard it's been for me? Having to watch you stand there in your tiny outfits and not want to bend you over like I want to right now?"

The air was changed immediately at his revelation. He let go of your arm, grabbing your chin and kissing you so that all you could feel was his tongue and teeth. You moaned against his mouth in pain, but grabbed onto the back of his hair as he threw you up onto counter, standing between your thighs. His mouth tugged on your lips, teeth biting and hands roughly tied into your hair so that you felt a sting through your whole body.

Just as quickly as he had taken your mouth he had let go, reaching into his back pocket and sticking up a single cigarette. You opened your mouth, letting him place it against your lips before lighting it up.

"Feel better?" He whispered, and all you could do was nod, grabbing at his hand.

Louis: It wasn't often that you guys got to go out while on tour, and it was even less often that Louis actually sought out your company. So when Louis popped his head into your bunk, nearly giving you an aneurism, and asked you to accompany him to the tattoo shop you'd happily said yes.

Louis didn't exactly hate you, per say, but he didn't enjoy your presence either. It was even weirder now that he had wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, showing you off down the street like you were his girlfriend.

"How's your girlfriend?" You asked, but he shrugged.

"We broke up."

"Oh, sorry," you said, looking at your converse to avoid the awkwardness.

"Nah, don't care," Louis muttered. He led you into the shop and dropped a few hundreds on the table. The guy must have known him, because he gave him a pat on the back and walked him back to a chair. Louis waved you over to sit in the chair next to him, which you did quietly.

"Why did you bring me?" You asked, watching as the guy got the ink ready for Louis.

"I wanted you to be there when I added you to my body," Louis said, and just as nonchalantly as he'd brought it up, the artist started tattooing him. Louis didn't even blink.

"What?"

"I'm adding you in. All the boys have a bit of them on me, and I decided I love you, so I'm going to put you in too," Louis said, reaching out to hold your hand, "Hurts like a bitch."

You were stunned. Louis had never even come close to expressing an interest in you and now he was getting your, from what you'd seen as you peered over his shoulder, actual fucking name written on his tricep like it wasn't a hug deal.

"I'm taking you to dinner tonight too, okay?" You just nodded, unable to even comprehend what was going on in his mind.

Harry: "Hey, want to catch some lunch?"

Harry had never spoken to you before. He avoided your presence, your name, even in concerts he avoided you. You were a plague to him, blackening his lungs, filling his soul with putrid hate.

His question caught you off guard, but he was holding up a bag of McDonald's and you were the only person left on the tour bus, so he must have been talking to you.

Harry had already settled himself next to you, thigh to thigh, on the couch before pulling out your favorite: the six piece chicken nuggets from Chik Fil 'A and the waffle fries. He had his McDonald's on his lap too, but you couldn't stop staring at him.

"You know my favorite food?"

"Yeah?"

Harry was eating easily, seemingly unbothered by the fact that you hadn't taken your eyes off of him, and that you seemed utterly bewildered by his presence and his actions.

"Harry, excuse me for interrupting, but what the actual fuck? You never talk to me, practically act like I don't exist and you just waltz in today and hand me food and sit by me as if you'd known me all your life," You said, dropping the food at your feet before turning to look at him more fully.

Harry wiped his mouth with a napkin, a task that was ordinary in others but incredibly attractive when he did it.

"I love you," another nonchalant statement that should have had a groundbreaking effect on you, but made you even more confused.

"Are you serious?" You said, running your hands through your hair.

"Yeah?" Harry looked confused at your confusion, "Babe, don't stress out, okay? We'll figure it out in a second, just let me eat, and you eat too. I haven't seen you touch food all day."