One Direction | Preferences

He Coaxes You Into When He Knows You Need It

He Coaxes You Into Crying When He Knows You Need It

A/N: I think I like this one *shrug* It’d love it if you told me what you thought though? I hope you like it! You can give me feedbackhere x

Niall: “Babe? Everything okay?” You nod, turning away from the bathroom mirror, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His expression kind of crumbles a little at that, crossing the room to cup your face in his hands. “You don’t look fine.” “Well, I am.” “Baby…,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours, “It’s okay to be upset sometimes.” “I’m not upset,” you insist, even though just talking is making your eyes well up, sparkling tears threatening to spill over. Niall waits, arms wrapped around you, keeping you safe and warm, pressed against him as you try to push back the sobs, but before you know it the telltale warmth is slipping down your cheeks, and you’re leaning forward to bury your head in Niall’s shoulder, back shaking as you cry into his t-shirt, but it’s okay, because Niall’s here, and he’s holding you tight. 

Harry: “Hey, you don’t need to be brave, baby. There’s no one here but me. It’s okay to cry.” Harry’s voice is soft and slow and calming, hands warm and big as they travel up and down your arms, smiling gently down at you, but still you shake your head, sucking in a shaky breath, “I’m fine.” “No, you’re not. I promise you’ll feel better if you just cry.” You bite your bottom lip, hard. “M’okay.” “Babe…,” he murmurs, and the quiet sympathy finally pushes you over the edge, the first tear rising up and slipping silently down your cheek. “There we go, let it out, it’ll be okay.” He pulls you forward, his body completely sheltering yours, tucking your head into the crook of his neck while you cry into his skin, Harry whispering comfort the whole way through.

Liam: “(Y/N)?” Liam coos, rolling over in bed to drag you across the mattress lightly, curling his body around yours, his chest pressed to your back, which was, until a few seconds ago, shuddering with silent sobs. “What’s wrong, baby?” You suck in a slow, deep breath, “Nothing, I’m fine.” “No, you’re not. Please tell me what’s wrong.” “Nothing’s wrong, Liam,” you whisper, voice thick and crackly, and the whole talking this is really straining your composure, throat aching with the pressure of holding back tears. “It’s okay to cry,” he mumbles, lips resting against your shoulder as his hand rubs soothing circles on your hip, finally tipping you over the edge, a steady drip of tears slipping from your eyes and falling off your face onto the pillow. Liam holds you throughout your crying jag, your body protected by his, giving you safety to weep undisturbed.

Louis: You’re sitting quietly in the empty hospital corridor, waiting for Louis to come pick you up, your head bowed, hair falling to make some sort of shield either side of your face as your life spins out of focus, everything coming crashing down around you, plans and goals and hopes, shattered by a simple diagnosis. Footsteps invade your silence, and you look up to find Louis smiling at you as he walks over, although the happy expression quickly drops at your face, blank and tired and sad. “Babe? What did the doctor say?” You shake your head, and he sits down beside you, a hand on your thigh. “(Y/N)? Is everything okay?” You lick your lips, rasping out the word you hadn’t dared say yet. “Cancer. It’s cancer.” “What?” Louis breathes, already shifting closer, guiding your body into his, face buried in his shoulder, arms wrapping tight around you. “(Y/N)? Are they sure?” “Positive,” you whisper, and his muscles flex, his throat working for a few seconds before he regains control, blinking back the tears threatening to appear and re concentrating on you. “I’m so sorry, baby.” “It’s okay.” “No, it’s not.” Your eyelashes brush against his neck as you squeeze your eyes shut, holding back the desperate watery sobs. “You can cry, darling, it’s okay.” You shake your head, and his hands smooth over your back, “No, it’s fine. Cry. No one’s here.” You swallow once more, before completely shattering against his chest, gripping his sweater in your fingers as you try to make sense of everythings that happened.

Zayn: There’s a familiar sing song of ‘welcome home, baby!’ as you come through the front door, Zayn’s head appearing through the kitchen doorway, and you let out a long breath, before plastering on a smile, dropping your bag on the hall table. “Hi.” “Is everything okay?” Zayn asks, abandoning whatever he was making to walk over to you, hooking his thumbs into your belt loops, brow furrowed with concern. “Yeah, I just had a long day.” “A bad one?” You shrug, avoiding his gaze, “You could say that.” “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, “S’not your fault.” Your voice cracks on the last syllable, that awfully familiar feeling of your throat closing up and starting to ache, blinking furiously to banish the tears. “Are you crying?” he mumbles, and you give him a watery smile. “No. What’s for dinner?” “Babe, hey, you’re crying. It’s okay. Don’t worry, let it out.” He tugs your closer, wrapping you up in a hug, and he smells like pasta and clean laundry and Zayn, so you cling to him, probably ruining his sweater with all the tears and snot, but he just holds you tight, rubbing your back and murmuring love.