#lovely1dheadcanons

[chrissysmith257]

About Preference {15}

I have decided that there will be a Part 2, but they don’t hate you to cover up the fact that they actually are in love with you. I have a feeling that it will rub some people the wrong way. I will keep the reason why they are acting mean towards Y/N a secret, and you, Lovelies, will know why he hates Y/N once the preference is posted sometime next week!

However, I will eventually be making a spin-off series based on this preference at a later date; this is for those who wanted it to become a series instead of just having a part 2. In the spin-off series, Y/N will be newly adopted (no matter the age) by the boy’s family, and he’s mean to her because he is actually in love with her.

I hope this clears up any confusion and makes everyone happy!

Please, tell me what you think! This blog is for you, Lovelies, not just for me, so I want your input!

[chrissysmith257]

5 Things I Like About Myself (In No Particular Order)

This is going to be interesting, considering I have a very low self-esteem, but thank you to the Lovely who sent me the tag. I do know who you are, but out of respect for you and because I did not know if you wanted me to post your url or not, I’m going to keep you anonymous. Thanks again and sorry it is so late, Lovely!

~ Chrissy

1. My Eyes

I’ve always received compliments for them because of their color. I don’t know why.. I do like them, however, because sometimes they look slightly more like a golden-brown, almost amber color.

2. My Eyelashes

I don’t need mascara or fake ones, so they save me time and money. Lol. I think they’re beautiful, too, though. They’re long and curl nicely.

3. My Personality

What a vain thing to say, but it’s true. Lol. There was once a time I found my ways of thinking and behaving as disgusting and selfish because a lot of people told me that...but now I don’t feel that way. I think I’m a decent person.

4. My Talents

I may not be Shakespeare or Michelangelo when it comes to writing and drawing, but I am happy with how I carry out both. I also do not have a good singing voice, but I love to sing...So yeah.

5. My Capacity for Love

This kind of goes under personality, but whatever. A lot of people say I have my head in the clouds, and I’ve been hurt before with people I thought I could trust and love...but I don’t hate these people. I love purely, naively, blindly, and to the point it is sheer agony, and I love that about myself.

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {11} AU: He's Your Brother, and While He's Away on Tour, You Commit Suicide (His POV) (Trigger Warning, Lovelies!)

Wow was this hard to write, but I still want to thank the person who requested it of me. I felt this was important because most people don't realize how much they'll be missed before they commit suicide. If you're having thoughts of this nature, I hope this helps you realize that suicide may end your suffering, but it's the beginning of someone else's. I am always available to talk, but in the end, all I can recommend is getting help. I hope you enjoy the stories. I figured it would be more of a brother/sister moment if he was talking to you after your death. If I had written your death scene, it wouldn't really have been a moment between you two because he'd be away, and you'd be alone. I also want to say that this may trigger thoughts or feelings about suicide, so proceed with caution! Enjoy, Lovelies!

- Chrissy

Master List

Harry:

                I was in France when I got the call. I was only a channel away--the fucking English Channel away--and a part of me blamed the distance. A part of me blamed the bloody tour and bastards that made up management. A part of me blamed my egotistical self.

                If I had been there to comfort you. If I had been there to tell you how beautiful you were, both inside and out, maybe it wouldn't have happened. If I had been there to take you in my arms and tell you that the words those arseholes had uttered were just a reflection of how they felt about themselves. If I had been there, you would still be alive right now.

                But I wasn't there, and you were dead, found with a gun and bullet in your head.

                Where did you even get a gun?

                I snickered, looking up at the ceiling of my hotel room as if you were here.

                Why'd you do it?

                Didn't you know that I loved you? To the moon and back and beyond?

                Their words shouldn't have gotten to you. Mine should have outshone theirs. My words of encouragement, love, and truth should have been at the forefront of your mind, fighting off their hate.

                I let out a sarcastic laugh while the tears streamed down my cheeks.

                I'm being selfish again, but I can't help it.

                They say people are selfish towards the ones they love, and God, I loved you, Y/N. You were the best sister a bloke could have. You still are.

                Don't tell Gemma that.

                I know she misses you, too. She loved you, but not nearly as much as I did and still do.

                She was always jealous of us. We were two peas in a pod, inseparable.

                You had your whole life ahead of you, and even with my new life, did you honestly think I would leave yours?

                Y/N. Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you dump your problems on me over the phone? Why didn't you cry and make me feel bad for not being there? Because now I feel worse...so much worse.

                Knock. Knock. Knock.

                "Harry?"

                I wiped my tears and sniffled, "Yeah?"

                "Do you want to be left alone...?" came Louis' voice again. "Or do you want some company."

                Don't be offended, Y/N. They don't get that you're here with me, always were and always will be.

Liam:

                So this is it.

                I can't believe this is it, Y/N.

                I knew that you would be in a coffin one day, Y/N, cold and pale, but I expected to be looking down on you in a different way. I was supposed to be gone first, Y/N. I was supposed to be the one to die first and watch over you.

                Why?

                Why did you let their hurtful words kill you? What happened to "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me?"

                I understand that each word was like a knife in your side, but you didn't have to bring one to your wrist. Why harm yourself? Why, damn it?

                I let out a sob, getting down on my knees before the black and gold coffin.

                Why didn't you come to me?

                All you had to do was call. I would've paid for the next ticket to Australia. God knows I can afford it. You didn't have to pick up at that knife.

                I could've flown you out to me.

                We could've had so much fun. You could've come with me to all the shows and fool around with the boys and I backstage. We could've stayed up late every night, watching our favorite childhood movies on the tour bus or in the hotel room. We could've met some fans, taken some pictures.

                Believe it or not, Y/N, a lot of fans loved you.

                I can't even count the number of tweets your twitter account got when the news got out. You got more tweets than I did! They all miss you, Y/N, but no one misses you as much as your big brother does.

                You and I weren't always close. I remember hating all the attention Mum and Dad gave you. I was pretty harsh towards you when we were younger, but I always loved you. Through all the mean words and teasing, I adored you. I'm sorry I couldn't admit it until I was more mature, but I tried to make up for those first ten years of your existence.

                We still had a year to go before I made it up completely.

                It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not now.

                You had your whole life ahead of you, and I was supposed to watch you grow.

                "Liam?"

                I looked up from the ground, removing my forehead from my folded hands.

                I love you, Y/N. Goodbye.

Louis:

                "And I'll be gone, gone tonight. The ground beneath my feet is burning bright. The way that I've been holdin' on so tight with nothing in between..."

                I had just finished my solo when the security guard ran out on stage to pull me aside.

                I made faces at the fans as I shuffled backstage with him.

                My happy mood disappeared, though, when I saw the grim atmosphere I had entered. Everyone was looking at me, but no one was smiling.

                "What's going on?" I asked, breathless from the sheer energy out there.

                No one answered; they just handed me a phone.

                "Hello?"

                "Louis?" our mum was on the line, and she sounded as if she were in tears. "It's Y/N."

                And that's when I learned about it. The text messages from the girls at your school. The name calling and bullying you had been subjected to. The fake friends that only wanted to meet One Direction.

                And then I learned about where they had found you, cold and gone in the middle of the road.

                It was shocking, and I had to wonder if this was all a dream.

                As Mum explained, I found myself staggering over to the sofa, trying to hold on.

                She was telling me I would never see my baby sister laugh or smile again, and I just couldn't believe it. You were always so happy, Y/N. When did it go downhill? Why didn't you tell us?

                Why didn't you tell me?

                We used to share everything. You knew when I was pulling a prank, and you also knew my deepest darkest secrets. I knew things you only wrote in your diary, and I knew how you were feeling with just one look.

                Then why couldn't I see this?

                "I'll come home, Mum. I'll get the next flight out of here."

                I had to see you one last time. I had to kiss your cheek and hold your hand one last time. I had to smile at you and tell you how beautiful you are one last time. But this wouldn't be the last "I love you."

                "What's going on?"

                It was Zayn.

                I waved at him from my spot, not realizing that the tears I had shed had given me away.

                Words were exchanged, and he left.

                On stage, they explained my absence.

                Soon the whole world would know that my little sister, my lovely Y/N, was gone.

Niall:

                We were in Barcelona when I got the news. I was just about to go on stage when the phone call came, saying that you were in the hospital in critical condition.

                I wasn't given any details. I wasn't told that you had put yourself in this condition, purposely taking too many sleeping pills. I wouldn't learn it was suicide until I arrived at the hospital, hours later, and by the time I had landed, you were gone.

                I remember running into your room at the hospital, unable to believe the words everyone had told me.

                You weren't dead. It was impossible.

                But you were.

                Your face was light, lacking the usual rose on your cheeks. Your eyes were closed, and your hand was freezing.

                I sat there, trying to give you some of my warmth, holding your hand into the early hours of the morning.

                Our mum told me that you had been having a hard time at school, being bullied. Apparently they said rude things about me, too, and it was hard on you.

                That was no excuse, though, Y/N.

                There was so much you still had to do. So many things I had to see you experience.

                You were supposed to live on and graduate from high school and university. I was supposed to congratulate you on your first job. You were supposed to meet your prince charming and fall in love. I was supposed to be there when you married him. He was supposed to take over my job protecting you, but obviously, I had been unfit for that position.

                Why, Y/N?

                Why didn't you come to me?

                I'm your big brother. I'm the one that's supposed to be looking out for you, but how would I know if you didn't make it known?

                This wasn't the plan. You weren't supposed to die.

                "Niall?"

                Mum tried to get me away from you the next morning. The hospital had to move you, now that you were pronounced dead, but I couldn't bring myself to leave you.

                "Niall. We have to go."

                And that time, I listened, knowing I had things to do, things to take care of.

                I owed an explanation to my fans, as well as an apology for leaving the tour. I'm sure there would be questions and rumors floating about that I had to clear up.

                But then I would mourn for the beautiful sister I had lost.

Zayn:

                I would never forget the last time I saw you before the incident.

                You were the definition of bliss, smiling and laughing as we drove to the airport. I was going away on tour for the next few months, and although I knew you were upset to see me go, we joked around. It was our way of forgetting.

                You were with me until the security line. You had insisted on seeing me off, despite the trouble it was to park, but who was I to deny you?

                We said our goodbyes, squeezing each other tight, and if I'd known I would be at your funeral a month later, I would've held you a little longer. Hell, I wouldn't have gotten on that damn plane if I had known.

                If I had known about those tweets from those haters and how much pain they were stirring inside of you, things would be a lot different now.

                For starters, you wouldn't be six feet underground.

                It was Dad that had called me that fateful day.

                I was laying poolside at one of the hotels we were staying at in California when I learned they had found you hanging from the ceiling of your pastel pink bedroom.

                I should've known it was coming. I should've gone home when Mum called me earlier that week, saying you had seemed off.

                But I told her you were fine like the fool I was.

                I sat there on the lounge chair for several minutes, letting Dad's words sink in.

                You had tied a rope around your neck.

                You had pulled the chair away.

                I could picture it in my head as if I was there when you did it.

                Those images would haunt me for weeks, and even now, I'll wake up some nights after seeing them.

                I had failed as a brother, and I had paid the ultimate price.

                Losing a sister is like losing a part of you. You're tied by blood, connected by the same parents. We grew up together, in the same house, happy and naive as can be.

                If only I had known. I would've stopped you.

                "Zayn?"

                I looked up, making out Niall's face in the sun.

                "Are you alright?"

                "No."

                "Care to talk about it?"

                And the words just spilled out. I told our life stories. I told him about the hate. I told him about the suicide.

                And, finally, I cried.

[chrissysmith257]

Preference Series {AU: Aboard the Titanic} Introductions

Here is Part 3 of the Titanic AU series, Lovelies! I just want to point something out to you. I learned, in my research, that back in the early 1900s, "Lunch" was called "Dinner" while the dinner we know was called "Supper." This is important because to be as historically accurate as I could be, I used "Dinner" for lunch. I hope you enjoy it, and tell me what you think!

- Chrissy

Master List

Part 2

Part 4 

Harry: You're a Nursemaid.

                You had just finished unpacking for the children, who were complaining of boredom the whole time you were doing so, when Caroline came up to you and tugged on your skirt.

                "Caroline..." you knelt down so you were eye-to-eye with her, "what did I tell you about pulling on my skirt for my attention?"

                "Not to," she said, not taking her tiny thumb out of her mouth.

                You nodded, "Use your words. Call my name. I'll answer," you stood up. "Now, what is it that you want?"

                "Can we go explore the promenade?"she asked.

                "Well, is it what your brothers want to do?" you looked over at the two boys, each sitting on the sofa with their faces in their books. "Andrew? Michael? Do you want to go explore the promenade?"

                "Now?" Andrew asked, looking up from his book. "We just traveled and settled in..."

                "I know, but your sister is bored, and I can't leave you two alone," you said, looking down at Caroline, who had taken your hand. "I'm pretty sure the First Class Lounge is up there as well as the Reading and Writing Room. You two could read there."

                "Fine..." Michael sighed, marking his place in his book before closing it.

                "Thank you, Boys," you smiled, outstretching your free hand for Michael's.

                "Why doesn't Andrew have to hold your hand?" Michael brooded, letting you grasp his small hand.

                "Andrew is nine years old. He's old enough to know that he shouldn't run off," you replied, leading them out of the room. "Andrew? Can you be a dear and close the door?"

                "Yes, Y/N."

                You turned back to Michael, "And I only have two hands to keep two children anchored."

                You all laughed at your horrible ship humor as you made your way from the First Class Staterooms to the elevator. Once you entered the First Class Lounge, Michael let go of your hand, running after his elder brother.

                "Please be careful, Boys!" you shouted, considering the room was mostly empty. "And don't wander off!"

                "We won't, Y/N," Andrew replied before entering the Reading and Writing Room.

                "Can we go now?" Caroline asked, looking up at you.

                "Yes," you let out a sigh and led her towards the doors that opened to the promenade.

                The crisp sea air hit you the moment you opened the doors to the deck, and you took a deep breath, loving how fresh it was. You were still in port, but the civilized smells of Southampton could not reach your nose. There was a cool breeze that tickled the back of your neck, and you couldn't remember a time you had felt so relaxed.

                "My bow!" you heard Caroline exclaim.

                "What?" you looked around, trying to see where the red ribbon had gone while Caroline tugged at your hand.

                She finally managed to get free of your grip, running down the promenade.

                "Caroline!" you ran after her, but she was quick on those little feet of hers.

                "My bow! My bow!" she kept shouting, and you saw the offending object floating along with the wind, just out of her reach.

                And you also saw him, a tall man who had just noticed the commotion and was right in Caroline's path.

                "Caroline! Watch out for--"

                You tried to warn her, or at least hoped that the gentleman would hear your shouting and move out of the way. Neither of which happened, and Caroline crashed into him.

                "Whoa..." he grabbed her shoulders, steadying her as he got down on his knee. "Be careful there, Love."

                Caroline, forgetting all about her bow, looked up at the man's face and immediately turned pink.

                "Caroline," you breathed, stopping in front of them, "apologize to the nice man."

                "I'm sorry, Sir..." she hung her head, trying to hide her embarrassed face.

                The man chuckled, lifting her chin, "It's okay, Love. Just try to stay with your big sister next time, okay?"

                He looked up at you after saying that, and it was your turn to be bashful. He was exceedingly handsome with beautiful green eyes and two little dimples on his cheeks when he smiled. What really threw you off, though, is the fact he called you Caroline's sister.

                "I'm not her sister, but thank you for the compliment," you said, bowing your head.

                "You're not her sister?" he asked, getting back to his full height.

                You shook your head, "I'm her nursemaid."

                "Oh..." he looked down at Caroline, who had managed to hide herself behind your skirts. He laughed at her shyness. "Well, listen to your nursemaid, Miss Caroline."

                She nodded her head slowly, putting her thumb back into her mouth.

                "And may I ask for your name?"

                You were startled by his desire to know who you were, but you gave your name anyway, "I'm Y/N, Sir."

                "Well, Y/N, you may call me Harry instead of 'Sir,'" he chuckled softly, killing you with his crooked smile.

                "I'm sorry, Sir, but considering you are of the same class as my employers--"

                "How do you know I am?" he asked, cutting you off with a smirk.

                "The way you are dressed, Sir. Your mannerisms, and considering the fact that this place is exclusively for First Class passengers only," you pointed out with a small smile.

                "Beautiful and smart," he beamed. "I like you, Y/N."

                And with that single comment, your face was as pink as Caroline's.

Liam: You're in Third Class.

                "That's all of it," you sighed, closing the second of the two empty cases and straightening.

                "Thank you, Love," your mother said from the lower bunk, where she decided to rest her aching body.

                "No problem, Mum," you replied, dusting off your hands and pushing your two cases underneath the bunk opposite hers.

                "We're lucky that there's four of us," she remarked, turning her head to look at me.

                It certainly made things easier, considering Third Class cabins were four to a room. There was hardly any elbow room, but at least we got to share it with our fellow family members. You also couldn't imagine how the stranger would cope with your two younger siblings; they were off the walls.

                "Edmund!" you scowled at him, seeing him hang off the side of the top bunk. You pushed his back up into the bed. "You could seriously hurt yourself if you do that."

                "Sorry, Y/N..." he hung his head.

                "We can't stay in the room all the time," you shook your head. "We'll go crazy if we do that."

                And you knew your mother needed her rest. She was getting bigger by the day, and it was hard to carry all that extra weight around without feeling worn out. Today's travel by train had done a number on her and, in addition to that, all the walking it took to get from the train station to your cabin.

                "Edmund? Marie?" you stepped onto the edge of the bottom bunk and looked up over the side of the top. "Do you two want to go to the middle deck with me?"

                "What's there?" Marie asked, resting her chin on her arms and peering down at you.

                You shrugged, "I don't know. That's why we have to go. It's a mystery."

                "A mystery?" Edmund's eyes sparkled. "I like mysteries!"

                He sat up, instantly becoming excited.

                "So you want to go?" you nodded with a smile.

                Marie seemed to consider it for a moment, getting up and sitting back on her knees, "I guess...but will there be food?"

                "I guess we can look for some," you said, not ready to promise anything. You knew they were starved, since you didn't have breakfast this morning, but you didn't know where there was food to be found.

                "Alright!" Edmund was sold. "Let's go!"

                "Alright..." Marie sighed, climbing down from the top bunk, followed by her brother.

                You turned to your mother once you saw them reach the floor, "Mum, if we find food, do you want me to bring back a plate?"

                "Yes, please," she whispered with a weak smile. "I'm just going to try and get some sleep."

                "Good. You should rest," you replied before turning to look at your siblings. "You two ready?"

                The both nodded, and you walked over to the cabin door, turning the handle and setting them free. The moment the door was open, the twins ran out as fast as horses.

                "Edmund! Marie!" you ran after them. "Don't take off like that! You don't even know where the middle deck is!"

                You finally caught up to them, grabbing both of their hands with an iron grip, and you made the rest of your trip that way, getting lost once or twice trying to find the damn rooms.

                A half hour or so later, you three found yourselves in the Third Class Dining Saloon. Dinner was being served, so you found three seats at one of the long, wooden tables.

                Edmund and Marie must have been hungry because the moment their plates touched the table, they were digging in. You ate, too, and you had to admit the food was better than you had thought it would be. It was one course but consisted of soup, potatoes, bread, and butter.

                "That was the best meal ever!" Edmund exclaimed as you exited the saloon.

                You laughed, "It was, wasn't it?"

                "But now we have to find our way back..." Marie's face fell, knowing it would be another lengthy walk to the room.

                "Let's not get so upset now, Marie," you said, switching your mother's plate of food from one hand to the other so you could take Marie's little fingers in your own. "We'll just ask for directions."

                You saw a man ahead of you, exiting a room off-limits to passengers. He was filthy, covered in dirt and sweat, but he seemed like he would know where to go.

                "Excuse me, Sir," you hastened forward. "Do you know how I can get to the lower deck Third Class rooms?"

                The man turned, taking in your form with deep, brown eyes, "I do," he nodded. "If you want, I can lead you there."

                He gave you and your siblings a soft smile, "I'm Liam, by the way."

                "I'm Y/N, and these are my siblings, Edmund and Marie," you said, looking down at them.

                "Do you run this ship?" Edmund asked, running up to him.

                Liam let out a hearty laugh, "No...I don't, but I help."

                "Really? What's it like?" he asked, walking beside Liam as he led you towards your cabin.

                He shrugged, "It's just a job, really. I'm used to it."

                Edmund kept firing questions while you and Marie stayed behind them. Once in a while, when he heard you laugh at something Edmund or he had said, Liam would look back at you, melting your heart with his warm smile.

Louis: You're in Second Class.

                When I entered the cabin, followed by the crewmember, he let out a low whistle that made me cringe.

                "Jesus Christ..." he murmured, looking around the room. "Are you sure this is only Second Class?"

                You were a little shocked by his words. If he was a member of the crew, wouldn't he know that this is a Second Class, single room?

                "Thank you, Sir," you turned to look at him, "for bringing my bags here."

                I started digging through the purse I held around my wrist.

                "You don't have to tip me, Miss," he said softly, putting the bags down.

                "Are you sure?" you asked, taking out your change purse. "Those bags weren't easy to carry."

                He shrugged his shoulders, smiling, "I didn't mind, but there is one thing you could do for me..."

                You frowned slightly, wondering what he was going to request, "And that would be...?"

                "Can you keep a secret?" he asked, turning to close the door and making you feel even more uncomfortable.

                "A secret?" you tilted your head to the side. "Depends on what it is, and I don't even know who you are."

                "In time, Miss. First, let me explain to you what I am doing here."

                You always did like stories, so why deny his? You sat down on the settee across from your bed and folded your gloved hands in your lap.

                "Well, I'm one of seven siblings," he began, taking his hat off to reveal unkempt, light brown locks that formed waves on the top of his head, "and we aren't exactly well off..."

                "Then why didn't you take the tip?" you asked, opening your purse once again. "I can give you a handsome sum because I'm feeling generous, but--"

                "Please don't," he pleaded, causing you to look up at him. "My parents didn't raise me to accept money from strangers, especially if they're a pretty woman."

                You hung your head, trying to hide the smile that graced your lips and the pink tinge on your cheeks, "I don't know about pretty, but..."

                He chuckled at your bashfulness, "No need to be shy, Love. You are quite the beauty. How do you think I spotted you in that crowd?"

                You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, "Please continue..."

                "Well, as I said, the money's pretty tight, and my dad and mum have been juggling two jobs each as well as taking care of the children. My sister, Lottie, and I try to help as best we can, but the only way we could survive is if I leave for America and get a job there."

                You looked up at him now, "So that's why you're on this ship..."

                "Yes," he nodded, his face turning serious, "but I am not a crewmember."

                "Then what are you...?"

                "I'm basically..." he sighed, "a stowaway."

                "A stowaway?" you stood up, furious. "You used me to get aboard this ship illegally?"

                He put up his hands, which were covered in dirt, "Calm down, please, Miss. I had no choice. I have my family to think about."

                "But couldn't you raise the money or save up for a ticket?" you asked, not caring if the whole floor could hear you. "Why did you have to be a stowaway?"

                "By the time I heard about the Titanic, it was too late for me to try and raise the money," he said, gesturing for me to quiet down. "You really need to be quiet, Miss. I can't be caught."

                "Why didn't you wait for another ship?" you ignored his pleas for you to be silent, stepping closer to him in the process.

                "My father lost one of his jobs, and my mum is home sick," he whispered. "Please, Miss. Quiet down..."

                "Quiet down? How can I quiet down? There is a man in my cabin, telling me a story that I'm not sure is fact or fiction, and he also used me to stowaway on one of the most famous ships in the--"

                You felt something cover your mouth, stopping your words, and when you saw it was one of the stowaway's filthy hands, all you saw was red.

                "Listen, Miss," his brows furrowed in frustration. "I've been polite, and I have no desire to hurt you. But I'm willing to change my behavior if it means I can safely pass to America for my family. If they catch me, I'll tell them you helped, and you'll be in just as much trouble as I will be. Your parents may be able to vouch for you, but the scandal will always be there."

                You hated this man, but you knew he spoke the truth. You would have to hide him here, in your cabin.

                "I'm going to let you go now," he whispered slowly, "and you're not going to scream anymore."

                You nodded, and he removed his hand.

                "You're honestly a despicable human being," you spat, turning towards the sink in the middle of the room.

                "I'm sorry you think that, Love, but as I said, I'm doing this for my family."

                If that was true, you might've felt better about the whole situation, but you had no reason to believe this man. He had tricked you.

                "What's your name, Miss?"

                You lifted your head and turned off the faucet, wiping your face with a towel, "Y/N."

                "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N. I'm Louis."

Niall: You're in First Class

                You were in the middle of your book, Pride and Prejudice, when your mother said three words that made your heart sing.

                "We're going out."

                You looked up from the page you were on, giving her a soft smile, "Where to?"

                "The First Class Lounge. We're supposed to meet with your future fiancé and his parents."

                Your face fell at the mention of your fiancé, "Oh..."

                Your mother beamed at your disappointment while spraying her neck with perfume, "Don't be down, Love. You'll be dining with him this evening."

                "When will you return?" you asked, marking your place in your book and resting it on your lap.

                "Well, we're having dinner all together, and then I think the men will go off to the smoking lounge. I'm also having afternoon tea with Mrs. Bentley, so I would not expect us back until it is time to get ready for supper," she said, leaning closer to the mirror to put her earrings in.

                You didn't say anything because you were so elated. This gave you the whole afternoon to explore the ship and do what you wanted to do instead of being dragged around by your parents.

                "Alright," your mother sighed, taking one last look in the mirror before taking your father's arm. "We'll be back."

                "I left you an extra key to the room," your father said, looking towards the nightstand. "If you want to go to the pool or the Turkish bath, you can always get back in here afterwards."

                "Thank you, Father," you said, getting up to kiss his cheek.

                You watched them leave the room, closing the door behind them with the happiest of smiles on your face. Once they were gone, you leaned back on the door, wondering if this freedom was too good to be true.

                Where would you go first? The promenade? The Swimming Pool? Or maybe the Turkish baths? They all sounded so appealing to you, but...exploring the ship sounded like the best idea.

                Considering you didn't feel like changing, you kept the dress you wore to board the ship on and left your hair as it was. You slipped on the shoes that matched your black and white dress and discarded your room slippers by your bed.

                After that, you grabbed the key and walked out the door.

                Now, you didn't really have a map or a plan as to where you were going to go; you decided to walk around aimlessly. You avoided going up to the next floor, knowing for a fact that that was where your parents had went. Instead, you opted to going downstairs and exploring the lower class decks.

                On the floor just below yours, there was the Second Class Library. Although you were unsure about whether or not you could pass your time in there, you made a mental note of where it was should you decide you wanted to.

                You made your way passed the library and Second Class Promenade before finding yourself among many significantly poorer people. They all stared at you as you walked by, and you knew it was because your dress was made of satin while their clothing was made of worn wool.

                Despite the jealous and menacing looks you got from some people, you felt sorry for the Third Class passengers. You scanned their grimy and tired faces, wondering what stories each one had to tell, until your eyes fell on a blond-haired man.

                The look he gave you contrasted with most in the room. His blue eyes were wide as they took in your form in utter awe. His jaw was nearly on the floor, and you couldn't help the giggle the managed to get passed your lips.

                He had heard it, and his cheeks immediately turned red while he brought his fist to his mouth, coughing into it.

                You stopped walking and turned to look at him, unable to help the smile or blush on your cheeks, "Hello."

                His eyes were the size of teacup saucers, but he managed to stammer out, "Uh...H-Hi."

                He had an Irish accent, and you knew that your mother would have your head if she saw you talking to this boy. Frankly, you didn't care.

                You walked over to him, surprising him even more, "I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

                "Niall, Milady," he bowed awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

                You frowned, "You don't need to be so formal..."

                "But you're..." he looked up at you shyly before straightening, "you're obviously of a higher class, Mila--"

                You shook your head, "It's Y/N. Not 'milady.'"

                "It wouldn't be proper..." he rubbed the back of his head before whispering to himself. "Hell, looking at you like that wasn't exactly proper either."

                You giggled softly, "You can relax, Niall. I'm not going to have you arrested for looking at me."

                He stiffened, realizing you had heard everything he had said, "I-I...didn't mean to...it's just that you're so..."

                "So...?" you took a step closer to him with a wide smile.

                "...beautiful..." he whispered, looking into your eyes.

                It was your turn to be shy, "Oh..." you shifted your gaze, "well, thank you..."

                "Just stating the truth," he replied with a small smile.

                And then you had plans for the rest of the trip. You wanted to spend every moment trying to get to know this boy, trying to get him to call you by your name.

                Class be damned.

Zayn: You're a Stowaway.

                You wandered the halls of the Third Class staterooms, trying to calm your fraying nerves. You had managed to get on board the Titanic, but you weren't in the clear until they started the voyage. Even then, if you were caught, you'd be punished the minute you docked in America.

                You also had to worry about where you were going to sleep. You were pretty sure that all the rooms were full, and even if they weren't, the chances of you finding the one with one empty bunk were slim to none.

                As you thought this through, you didn't realize that you had wandered into a Second Class hall.

                "Miss?"

                You felt your heartbeat quicken as you turned around slowly to see a crewmember hastening over to you.

                "What are you doing in here?" he asked, scowling at your form.

                Instinct told you to run, and boy, did you run down that hallway.

                "Wait, Miss!" the crewman yelled after you while you rounded the corner, crashing into someone.

                You heard a masculine groan below you and opened your eyes to see you were straddling the man you had met in the crowd earlier.

                "I'm so sorry," you gaped at him.

                "There you are, Girl!"

                You gasped, spinning around to see your pursuer glaring at you.

                He grabbed your wrist, bringing you away from the man you had knocked over, "I'm afraid you'll have to come with me, Miss."

                "I got lost, I didn't mean--"

                "Wait."

                Both you and the crewmember who had you in his grasp looked at the stranger. He was getting to his feet now, dusting off his suit.

                "This girl is traveling with me," he said grabbing your other wrist.

                "Are you sure, Sir?" your captor asked. "She looks too common to be associated with you."

                The man frowned, "She's my maid."

                Well, it was better than nothing, and he was saving you.

                "Well," the crewmember practically threw you at him, "please tell your maid to be careful when wandering the ship. There are some places she is prohibited to enter."

                "Of course," your savior steadied you, grabbing your wrists gently.

                "Have a nice afternoon, Sir," the crewman bowed his head, tipping his hat as well, before making his leave.

                "Thank you," you said, looking up at the man.

                "No problem," he smiled softly, letting go of you, "but what are you doing in the Second Class staterooms?"

                "Um..." you bit your lip, "I'll tell you why, but I'd prefer to do it somewhere private."

                "Is my room private enough for you?" he asked, gesturing to the door next to you.

                You nodded, "That'll do."

                He got out his key and unlocked the door, holding it open for you.

                When you walked in, you forgot how to breathe. The room was so much more luxurious than anything you had seen or read about before. It wasn't as large as the room you had at the orphanage, but there, you shared a room with thirty other girls.

                Your face must have shown your awe because your savior laughed, "I take it that you like it?"

                "It's gorgeous," you said, looking about the room. "How much does a room like this cost?"

                "A lot," he chuckled, closing the door behind him. "Please sit, um...I'm afraid I don't know your name."

                "Y/N," you replied, looking into his brown eyes.

                "Miss Y/N? That's a pretty name," he smiled, taking a seat on the settee. "I'm Zayn."

                "Zayn?" you arched a brow. "Is that foreign?"

                "Arabic," he nodded, watching you take a seat on the other side of the settee. "Now, tell me. What were you doing in the Second Class halls?"

                You looked down at your worn skirt, "Well...I was taking a walk around the Third Class staterooms, and I wasn't paying attention...I somehow found myself here."

                He nodded slowly, "Okay, but why did you run when the crewman only wanted to inform you that you weren't in your place?"

                You remained silent for a moment, wondering if you should share the fact you were a stowaway with him, "I...um..." you looked up at him, frowning, "I'm not exactly a passenger..."

                "But you said..." he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

                "I know, but I lied," you sighed, hanging your head in shame. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble, but by saving me, I already have."

                "What do you mean?" he leaned forward, worry evident in his chiseled features.

                "I'm a stowaway," you whispered, looking away from his intense gaze. "You helped a stowaway."

                The room was silent, deathly silent. You could hear his pocket watch ticking, and if you listened hard enough, you probably could've heard the air moving around you.

                Finally, after what seemed like eons, Zayn let out a sigh, "I'm not going to get angry."

                "You're not?" your head shot up, meeting his gaze.

                He shook his head before giving you a stern look. "I'm going to help you, since I'm already an accomplice anyway."

                "But--"

                "But you have to listen to everything I say," he said, getting up from the settee and opening his bag. "You also have to be my muse."

                "E-excuse me?" you blinked, watching him pull out a book of some sort.

                "My muse," he repeated, opening the book to reveal all sorts of sketches, some clothed and some not. "You have to let me draw you."

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {10} You're at the Hospital, and You Have an Emotional Breakdown (Trigger Warning, Lovelies!)

Hey, Lovelies! This was the first request I got after the last preference, and I didn't get to thank her for it because she reblogged a post and commented on it. So please, use my ask for requests and any questions you have! But thank you for the request, Lovely! I'm sorry it's not long...I'm not very good at writing about sad things...Writing this, though, made me feel things. I had to stop every once in a while and get my mind off it with something happy. I hope you Lovelies enjoy it, though, and I'll be posting something later tonight!

- Chrissy

Master List

Harry:

                All you could remember was all the blood. It seemed endless, like the sky and ocean, but you couldn't see the horizon. It was all over the white-tiled floor, all over the white sheets, and all over you.

                You could feel yourself being chipped away. Slowly, cracks were appearing on your surface, getting wider and deeper, but you didn't break completely until the nurse uttered the words that you'd never thought you would be unlucky enough to hear.

                "I'm sorry, Mrs. Styles, but your baby is gone."

                And the tears came. You could hear yourself screaming and feel yourself fighting to let go. The pain wracking at your heart was too much to bear.

                Around you, people begged you to calm down, but their faces were all blurry. Their words were unable to be registered.

                All you could think about was the baby you would never see. Never get to hold. Never get to touch. Never get to kiss. Never get to watch grow old.

                "Y/N."

                This voice reached you in your dark and lonely place.

                "Y/N, Love."

                It was so gentle, so calming. You couldn't help but want to hear it through all the cluttered madness in your brain.

                "Please stop, Y/N. This isn't like you."

                You looked for the blurred face, the one that was speaking to you. You wanted to get lost in their eyes, their soul.

                "I know it hurts, Love, but you're hurting all of us. You have to calm down."

                You knew why he sounded so sad. You knew that, as agonizing this was for you, it was the same for him. Your baby was his, too. You weren't alone, despite the fact you were convinced you were.

                "I love you, Y/N. Please stop."

                And you stilled your body, only moving to wipe away your tears. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, too.

                You opened your eyes to meet his green eyes, his beautiful, tear-stricken face.

                "I love you, too."

Liam:

                The room was spinning, and you tried to ignore it. You needed to focus. You needed to be strong for Liam. You couldn't breakdown here.

                "Miss Y/L/N?" you heard your voice, but for some reason you found yourself unable to react. All you could think about was whether or not he was alive.

                "Miss Y/L/N?"

                You looked up, pushing the horrifying "what ifs" to the back of your mind and forcing yourself to get up, "That's me."

                "What's your relation to Mr. Payne?" the nurse asked with a stoic face.

                "I'm his fiancée," you answered, clenching your sweaty hands.

                "Follow me."

                You did, trying not to stumble or fall. You were dizzy as hell, and your vision was getting blurry from the tears forming in your eyes.

                The nurse led you into a room and pulled back a curtain. The sight before you killed you. There he was, the love of your life, lying motionless on a bed with all these bandages and wires.

                You fell to your knees, bringing your hands up to your face as the tears spilled over. You could hear your agonizing sobs, the beeping of the heart monitor, and the nurse asking if you were okay, but you couldn't bring yourself to pay attention.

                This was all your fault.

                The words kept repeating over and over in your head.

                If you had told him to stay home tonight. If you had said "no." If you had stopped him before he walked out the door.

                He wouldn't be here, in this hospital room. He'd be home with you.

                You didn't know how long you sat there, crying out from the pain your heart was going through. You didn't know how long it was before your world finally went black.

                "Y/N?"

                "Liam?" you opened your eyes slowly to see your fiancé on the bed next to yours.

                He still looked to be in pretty bad shape, but at least he was awake and holding your hand.

Louis:

                "I don't know if I can do this, Louis," you said, shaking your head while tears streamed down your cheeks.

                "You have to, Love, and I know you can," he whispered with an assuring smile.

                Those words soothed you for the time being, but the agony was still there. When the next contraction hit, you were bending over, holding the side of your protruding stomach.

                "Louis..." you gasped before crying out, "I can't. I can't do this."

                The tears continued as another wave of pain crashed down on your body. You couldn't breathe.

                "Isn't there anything you can give her?"

                You could hear Louis frantically asking for something to give you some sort of relief, but your mind was spinning. You were trying to take deep breaths, but they came out short and raspy. In your head, all you could think about was what could go wrong.

                The epidural didn't work.

                The baby was too big to deliver vaginally.

                You could die from some birth complication.

                The baby could be born with some horrible deformity or disease, leaving you with only a few years to cherish it.

                The baby could be a stillborn.

                All these fears swirled around in your head, making you dizzy.

                "What's wrong with her?"

                It was Louis' voice again.

                "Why isn't she responding?"

                "She's having an emotional breakdown, Mr. Tomlinson."

                "Then do something," you felt Louis' strong hand around yours. "I can't stand to see her like this."

                "We have to calm her down."

                "Then do it!"

                All the yelling was not helping.

                "Y/N, Baby. You're going to be okay. You're going to be fine."

                "Baby," you managed.

                You didn't give a damn about you anymore. You just wanted the baby born healthy and safely.

                "I'm right here, Love," he gripped your hand tighter.

                "No...the baby," you tried to slow your breathing down, to calm down.

                "The baby will be fine, Y/N. We all will."

                And somehow, the words he spoke made it all possible.

Niall:

                "Niall, I can't breathe."

                And you couldn't. The knowledge of what was going on only a few doors down killed you. Your grandmother was in there; the woman who had been rightfully labeled as "Wonder Woman." She was strong and able to do anything, so how did it come to this?

                You couldn't pin point it, the moment it all began to all go downhill.

                Maybe it was because you didn't visit her enough to see that her health was declining.

                When she collapsed, your parents got the best doctors in the country to fix Wonder Woman because without her...

                You couldn't breathe.

                Niall's arms were around you within seconds, pulling you to his chest. He didn't say anything, just let you cry and pound his chest because he knew you; he's seen this before.

                He knew you were blaming yourself for everything.

                He knew you were fearing the worst.

                But no words would work until you wanted them to.

                So in the middle of the chaotic hospital, he held his broken girlfriend, keeping her pieces together in his arms. People stared, but he didn't give a damn about them.

                But he would be lying if he said it was easy sitting here with his princess like this.

                This killed him just as much as it killed you.

                So he buried his nose into your soft hair, singing words into your ear while he drew circles on your back.

                You felt his love, every bit of it, and you felt his pain.

                You knew you had to stop, not just for yourself but for him and your grandma. So you began the long and tiring process of calming down.

                Your ragged breaths turned to gasps as your heart rate slowly returned to normal. You no longer made noises with each tear that fell down your red cheeks, and your hiccups were gone.

                "Y/N Y/L/N?"

                You lifted your head from Niall's chest, sniffling, "Y-Yes?"

                "You can see your grandma now."

Zayn:

                You hadn't meant for it to happen, but then again, no one ever means for these things to happen. They just do.

                When you saw your baby boy with an oxygen mask on his beautiful face, you couldn't help breaking down.

                The impact was at your knees, making them unable to hold you up. Your head was spinning, but through it all, you couldn't take your eyes off of your son in his hospital bed.

                No one else saw it coming. No one saw you take a step forward, wobble, and fall, but Zayn had heard your agonizing sob.

                He was the one to catch you before you touched the sterile ground, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you up against him. He supported you, turning you around and pressing your face into his chest, not caring at all about the expensive shirt your tears were ruining.

                Your grasp on him hurt, your nails digging into his skin through the white fabric, but he didn't dare stop you or push you away.

                So you let out your frustrations and anguish on your husband while he rubbed your back, trying to soothe you.

                "He's alive, Love," he whispered against your cheek. "He's a fighter."

                All you could manage was a nod between the cries and tears.

                "He's going to be so happy when he wakes up. He's such a momma's boy," Zayn chuckled lightly before pressing a kiss on your temple. "He loves you so much."

                You knew he did. Your son was such a good boy, so sweet and kind, just like his father.

                And you needed to be strong for both of them right now.

                You loosened your hold on your husband, much to his relief, and wiped away your tears. Your breathing returned to normal while the room seemed to finally stay in one place.

                In the end, it was all worth it because the first thing he said when he woke up was...

                "Mummy."

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {9} You're on Tour with Him, and He's Feeling Protective

This was a request I received about two days ago, and it is also my last request on my list...so I need requests, Lovelies! I hate looking at the list and seeing everything crossed off. I like writing what you Lovelies want! So please, if you want to read something, do not hesitate to ask. Thank you for all the requests so far and the support. You are all amazing! Enjoy.

- Chrissy

Master List

Harry:

                "Harry!"

                "Harry Styles!"

                "Over here, Harry!"

                "Look at me!"

                "I love you, Harry!"

                The crowds were crazy today as you walked out your hotel, hand-in-hand with your boyfriend of seven months, Harry Styles.

                "Y/N! Smile!"

                "Y/N! What's it like dating Harry Styles?"

                You were used to this, used to the mobs of reporters, fans, and camera flashes. You and Harry often ignored them, only stopping to sign a fan's poster or take a selfie with them. It was mostly Harry who did that stuff, though, and occasionally, someone would ask you to join in the photo or add your signature.

                You took it in stride, letting Harry be your guide with your hand clasped tightly in his.

                "Y/N! Did you hear about the Harry and C/G/N scandal?"

                Harry froze, his pen no longer moving on the piece of paper a fan had handed him.

                "C/G/N and Harry were seen holding hands the other day. Any comment, Y/N?"

                "How do you feel, Y/N, finding out you aren't enough for the Harry Styles?"

                This wasn't too uncommon. You two usually ignored rumors, but you could feel Harry's fiery eyes on your face. These specific rumors were new to you, but you knew Harry would never do such a thing while dating you. He wasn't like that. Still, the last question hurt.

                You tried to show no reaction because that's what they wanted, and who knows what kind of stories they would make from this?

                "Excuse me, but where and when exactly did you see me with C/G/N?" Harry asked, finishing the signature and handing it back to the fan before walking over to the group of reporters.

                "Here, in the city," one replied.

                "Around noon."

                "That's funny," Harry smiled, "because I was with Y/N for the whole afternoon yesterday, and I'm pretty sure C/G/N left for Los Angeles yesterday morning."

                That shut them up.

                "I thought so," he whispered, bringing your hand up to his lips before leading you to the car that was waiting for you.

                Once you were in the backseat, Harry pulled you close to him, pressing a loving kiss to your lips, "Thank you, Love."

                "For what?" you breathed, looking up into his green eyes.

                He grinned before leaning in again for another kiss, "For being strong and believing in me."

Liam:

                "You're lovely, Y/N," he whispered against the column of your neck before pressing a kiss there.

                You felt his fingers draw lazy pictures on your bare back and hummed in complete bliss.

                "I don't want to leave," Liam shifted, tangling your naked legs together even more as he pulled you closer to him. "I don't want to get ready for the show."

                "But you have to," you said, opening your eyes to peer at his beautiful face. "Your fans will miss you."

                "I know..." he said, shaking his head before meeting your gaze, "but I'll miss you."

                You smiled at him, pecking his soft lips, "I'll miss you, too, but I'll be right in the audience, cheering you on."

                "What about cheering me on now?" he smirked, climbing back on top of you and pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally your lips.

                The kiss grew passionate while his hands trailed down your smooth skin, retracing the paths his fingers had taken numerous times before and creating new ones.

                "Liam," you breathed against his lips, slipping your hand up the side of his neck and into his hair. "Someone's going to come get you anytime now."

                He brought your lips into another mind-numbing kiss. "We'll make it quick...but not too quick."

                He moved his lips to your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as one of your hands made its way to the back of his head. You pressed him closer to you, wanting to feel every nook and cranny of his against your form.

                "Oh...Come on, guys!"

                Liam's face immediately disappeared from your skin, turning and looking at the source of the interruption, "Harry!"

                Liam lowered his body over yours in an effort to hide your body, the body that only he was allowed to see, "Get the fuck out, Mate!"

                "Okay. Okay," he chuckled nervously, backing out of the room. "Calm down, Liam. I was just coming to tell you that we have to go in five minutes."

                "Stop looking at her!"

                "Jeez...I wasn't!"

                Once you heard the door close with a click, you began laughing while Liam looked down at you, trying to comprehend why.

                "What's so funny?"

                "'Get the fuck out, Mate!'" you mimicked him between giggles. "'Stop looking at her!'"

                "But he was!"

Louis:

                Maybe buying tickets to your famous boyfriend's concert wasn't such a good idea. Or maybe it was the idea to hang out around the stadium and talk to his fans that wasn't such a good idea.

                The moment you walked out into the rotunda and leaned against one of the walls, you were mobbed by fans.

                "Can you give me Harry's phone number?"

                "What is it like dating Louis?"

                "Is it annoying being on tour with them?"

                "Are you really dating Louis, or did management hire you?"

                "You're so pretty, Y/N! Can you sign this? I'm your biggest fan!"

                "Can we take a picture?"

                You tried to answer all the questions being thrown at you and did as many of the requests they had for you, but it was just so overwhelming.

                "Alright, move aside!"  

                Oh, no. Here comes one of those fans. The ones that think they are entitled to whatever their little hearts' desire.

                "Number one fan coming through!"

                Wait...that voice sounded slightly familiar...

                And when the person had finally managed to push his way to the front of the crowd, you knew why.

                "What are you doing?" you hissed as the "fan" pulled you into a hug.

                "Just hugging my idol," he whispered against your ear, his sunglasses hitting the side of your head.

                "Louis...do you know how bad this will be if anyone finds out?"

                "Calm down, Love," he said, putting on an accent. "With this voice and this get up, no one can tell it's me."

                He took you by the hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pulled you through the complaining crowd.

                "Who do you think you are?"

                "You can't just drag Y/N away from us like that!"

                Louis leaned down towards your ear, "When I say 'bye', run."

                "What--"

                You didn't have time to give your boyfriend a suspicious look before he turned around, taking off his shades and snapback.

                "Well, considering she's my girlfriend, I think I have the authority. Love ya! Bye!"

                After that, you bolted into the concert hall, running down the rows to the backstage door. Once you were safe with the bodyguards, Louis pulled you into a hug.

                "Don't ever do that again, understand?" he said, breathless.

                "But..."

                "Promise."

                "Fine..."

                "That's my girl," he cooed, nuzzling your cheek.

Niall:

                "Niall, what are you doing?" you snapped.

                He stopped moving after that, realizing that he had woken you up. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and you had no idea what he was doing.

                "Nothing," he blurted out.

                "You're doing something," you shifted slightly so you could look over your shoulder at him, opening up one eye in the process.

                In the dark, you could just barely make out Niall's form under the sheets. His arm was around you and his stomach pressed into your side, as if he was slowly sliding under you.

                "Aren't you uncomfortable in that position?" you whispered.

                "No...Just go back to sleep. Don't worry about me."

                "You telling me not to worry is making me worried," you retorted, flipping over onto your back and moving your body off of his. "Why aren't you asleep?"

                He yawned, "Well...I stayed up until the boys finally went to bed, and then I got to thinking..."

                "A horrible habit, but continue your story," you chuckled softly, positioning yourself on your other side so you could snuggle into his side.

                "What if we hit a bump?"

                "A bump?" you furrowed your brows in confusion. "What kind of bump? Like a bump in our relationship? In your career?"

                "No," he shook his head, a smile growing on his face. "A literal bump in the pavement. What if the tour bus hits a bump?"

                You were silent, not quite understanding the question, before answering, "Um...we go over it?"

                "No...you fall out of the bunk and onto the floor because you're on the edge."

                That's when it all clicked, "Were you moving me so you could keep me from falling?"

                "Yeah..."

                You pulled his face to yours, kissing his nose, "Niall James Horan, you are too cute."

                "Yeah...well..."

                He was cut off when the bus shook, causing you to topple out of the bunk, but Niall saw it coming.

                When you landed, you didn't hit the floor. Niall had somehow made his way underneath you, keeping you from landing on the hardwood.

                "What the bloody hell was that?"

                A light went on, revealing you and Niall in a very compromising position.

                "On the floor, now? Is that what you kids are into these days?" Louis snorted, looking down at you two from his bunk.

Zayn:

                "We're taking a shower together."

                You looked up from your book, startled by the sudden command, to see your boyfriend of two years standing by the bathroom door, in all his naked, chiseled glory.

                "Um..." you shifted in your seat by the window of your hotel room, "okay...but what's with the sudden desire...?"

                He shrugged, not bothered at all by his lack of clothing, "I just want to. Conserving water and what not? Being good for the environment? I want to stare at your body? Take your pick."

                You giggled at his humor, closing your book and putting it on the table beside you, "Alright. Your compelling argument has convinced me."

                He grinned at you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his.

                "You're wearing too much for a shower, Love," he whispered, pulling away from you.

                You smirked at him before removing your top and pants with slow hands. His eyes followed the lines and contours of your body, taking in every bit of beautiful skin as well as every perfect imperfection.

                You took off your underwear next, taking your sweet time in doing so, and just as you were about to look up at him, he put his hand at the back of your neck, pulling your lips up to his.

                He kissed you passionately, putting his hand on your lower back. His kisses always left you breathless, but after this one...you were pretty sure you forgot how to breathe.                

                "Come on, Love. The showers running and waiting," he breathed against your lips.

                "Okay," you grinned, pecking his lips one last time before letting him lead you by the hand into the bathroom.

                You went into the tub first, him helping you keep your balance. However, as soon as your foot touched the smooth base of the tub, you found yourself falling to the floor.

                Zayn's hand was tight and bruising around your other arm, keeping you from falling.

                "I knew it..." he whispered along with a string of curses. "I should have gone in first."

                "This is why you wanted me to take a shower with you? You were afraid I'd slip?" you asked as he climbed into the tub.

                He nodded, kissing the palm of your hand, "I have to protect this precious body."

[chrissysmith257]

Could you link me to everything you've written? I can't find them.

Sure, Lovely! Here is everything I have so far.

Preferences:

Preference {1} How You Met

Preference {2} You’re His Date, But You’re Just Friends | Part 2

Preference {3} You’re a Family of…

Preference {4} Your First Fight | Part 2

Preference {5} You Have Dimples

Preference {6} AU: He’s Your Overprotective Brother Meeting Your Boyfriend for the First Time | Part 2

Preference {7} Differences Are What Makes You Beautiful (His POV)

Preference {8} He Gets Sick While Visiting Your Parents

Preference {9} You’re on Tour with Him and He’s Feeling Protective 

Preference Series

Aboard the Titanic AU

Preference Series {AU: Aboard the Titanic} Preparation (Your POV) | (His POV)

Preference Series {AU: Aboard the Titanic} Introductions

I hope this helps! I also put up the preferences that are coming out soon, so you have something to look forward to. I am still taking requests, and this was the first time I had to do this for someone. You made my day, Lovely, so thank you!

- Chrissy

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {8} He Gets Sick While Visiting Your Parents

Hey, Lovelies! Sorry it's been a while...but I'll try to have something else posted tonight or this time tomorrow morning. This was a request I had gotten (I'm running out of requests, so please give me some to add to my list), and I tried to make each boys' a little different. The range of illnesses (minor to serious), whether it was their first time visiting your parents or not, and if your parents were divorced or not were things I used to differ each story. I hope you enjoy it, Lovelies!

- Chrissy

Master List

Harry: He has the runs.

                You could tell Harry wasn't feeling well the moment he asked you to get off the highway and park in the lot of a rest stop. Your parents were only a few exits down, but he couldn't wait to use the bathroom.

                You asked if he wanted you to come and wait outside the men's room for him, but he told you to wait by the car. You respected his wishes and waited. And waited.

                You were supposed to be at your parents before eighteen o'clock, but your plane had arrived late, and now this whole thing with Harry...You knew he probably couldn't help it and was nervous about meeting your parents for the first time, but your parents had a thing about being punctual...

                For his sake, you hoped he would hurry up.

                "Sorry about that, Love," he ran over to you and pecked you on the cheek.

                "It's okay, but Harry," you watched him walk around the car to the passenger side, "are you feeling alright?"

                "Yeah," he shrugged before opening his door. "I feel fine."

                "Are you sure?" you asked, opening your door.

                "Of course!" he smiled, ducking into the car. "Now let's get going! We don't want to be late!"

                You decided not to press it further and started the car. Within fifteen minutes, you were parked outside your parents' house, helping Harry unload the car.

                "Y/N!" your mother had seen you pull up, so she was bounding out the door within seconds of the first suitcase being placed on the pavement.

                "Hey, Mum," you smiled, pulling her into a hug.

                "You're here! You're finally here!" she said, rocking you back and forth. She then turned to look at Harry, who was smiling at the reunion. "And you must be Harry. I've heard so much about you from Y/N."

                "All good I hope," his grin widened.

                Your mother walked over to him and said, "Well, don't be shy. We're a hugging family."

                Harry pulled her into a hug, smiling at you over her shoulder, but then his face fell.

                He quickly ended the hug, apologizing and asking for a bathroom.

                "Oh, well," your mother looked at bit startled. "There's one when you first enter the house, on the right side."

                "Thanks," he ran towards the house before slowing down to tell you. "I'll be right back, Babe, to help you carry the stuff in."

                "That's okay, Sweetie," you gave him an assuring smile, knowing he was really nervous about coming here today. "Take your time."

                He returned the smile before disappearing into the house.

                Your mother turned to you, chuckling softly, "He's a bit nervous, isn't he?"

                "Yeah..." you replied with a nod. "I don't think he's feeling too well either..."

                "Oh?"

                "We had to stop for a bathroom fifteen minutes ago," you told her, and she already knew what was wrong.

                "Well, I'll show you what to give him medicine-wise," she replied, leading you into the house. "I'll pretend I don't know a thing."

                "Thanks, Mom," you sighed, following her into the kitchen.

                She opened up the medicine cabinet and handed you a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, "You know where the spoons are. The dosage is on the bottle."

                You nodded, grabbing a spoon before rushing out of the room and towards the bathroom. You taped the white door lightly, just enough for him to hear you.

                "Harry?"

                "Yes, Love?"

                "Can I come in?"

                There was a bit of silence until the door opened slowly, revealing Harry on the toilet with his pants down. You gave him a small smile, ignoring the stench, before closing the door behind you and locking it.

                "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" you asked, kneeling on the white-tiled floor before him.

                He let out a sigh, running his fingers through his curls, "We've been planning this for a month now, Y/N, and I know it means a lot to you that I meet your parents..."

                "But it would be easier if you were feeling better," you frowned, pouring a spoonful of the pink liquid.

                "I know, but...honestly, I think it's from nerves," he whispered, looking into your eyes.

                "Here," you brought the spoon before his lips. "This should help."

                He let you give him the medicine, swallowing it before saying, "I'm really sorry, Y/N. I'm sure this isn't how you or your parents planned on meeting me."

                "Well, you should be feeling better before my father gets home, but he's a pretty understanding man. I doubt he'll deduct points for having the runs," you chuckled softly, getting up and kissing Harry's cheek. "And my mother's seen it all, so..."

                "But what about you? I mean...I don't want you seeing me like this..."

                "Harry," you shook your head, "it's okay. I'm your girlfriend, and if we're going to have the future we've been talking about having, there are going to be moments like this."

                "I love you," he said, finally smiling.

                "I love you, too," you grinned, opening the door. "I'll have mom make you some rice for dinner."

                "Thanks, Babe."

                And as luck would have it, Harry did feel better before your father came home. He still had rice for dinner, to be safe, but no one questioned it, even though everyone had a clue. By the end of the night, you were all in the living room, talking and laughing.

                "You know, Harry," your father said, putting his cup of coffee down on a coaster. "I had my doubts about you, but you are quite the gentleman."

                Harry beamed, rubbing you arm, "Thank you, Sir."

                "And I can see how well you and my daughter get along."

                Harry's hand froze on your arm, suddenly conscious that he was showing affection in front of your parents, but when he saw your father's approving grin, he continued his caress.

                "Thank you, Son, for making her happy."

                Those words made your heart soar, and you could feel the happiness radiating off of Harry.

                "Thank you, Sir. You have no idea how much that means to me," Harry was grinning from ear to ear, dimples out in the open.

Liam: He has the flu.

                "Are you feeling okay, Baby?" you asked from the passenger seat of the car.

                "Yeah, I'm--" he sneezed, "fine."

                You brought a tissue to his nose, "Blow."

                He did as you said, and you folded up the dirty tissue, putting it in the plastic bag by your feet. Liam has been like this since you left the hotel, so you took your heels out of the plastic bag you were carrying them in and got out your travel-size pack of tissues.

                "Are you sure you're up to this, Liam? Maybe we should head back to the hotel and take a rain check," you said, frowning as you pressed the back of your hand against his warm forehead. "You're burning up, Babe! We shouldn't be doing this."

                You unbuckled your seatbelt, telling him to pull over so you could drive back.

                "Stop making it such a big deal," Liam couldn't help but laugh at the way you were handling the situation. "We're almost there anyway."

                He then lets out a cough, making you doubt this trip even more.

                "But, Liam..."

                "I'll be fine, Babe," he said, cutting you off and taking your hand in his. "Honest."

                You rolled your eyes at him, "Fine, but you're lying down and taking some medicine as soon as we get to my moms'."

                Now it was his turn to go, "But, Y/N..."

                "No," you said, looking out the window and ending the conversation.

                Once you were parked in your mother's driveway, you got out your key while Liam took your suitcase out of the trunk.

                "Liam, are you sure you don't want me to get that?" you asked, feeling bad because most of the stuff in the case was yours.

                "No, I've got it, Babe," he smiled at you, picking up the suitcase and walking with you up to the front door.

                You unlocked the door and led him into the house, "Mum? M/BF/N?"

                "It doesn't sound like they're home," Liam pointed out from beside you before going into a fit of coughs.

                You went over to him, putting your hand on his back as he bends over, "Liam, come on. Let's go upstairs. We'll get you into a cool bath to lower your fever and then I'll get you some medicine. Okay?"

                "But I was supposed to meet your..."

                "I don't care," you shook your head. "You need to get better, and if you let me take care of you, you can spend all the time you want with them tomorrow."

                "You promise?" he asked, straightening.

                You nodded, "I promise."

                "Fine."

                After that, he let you do what you needed to do to make him feel better. You helped him upstairs, telling him to ignore the suitcase for now. Once he was in the bathroom with a bath drawn, you ran downstairs and carried your luggage up to the guest bedroom you and Liam would be staying in.

                "Babe? Where's the shampoo?" he sniffled, poking his head outside the bathroom.

                "I'll be right there, Liam," you said while putting the last of your clothes into the dresser.

                You quickly ran across the hall to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. Liam was in the tub, lying back. He watched you as you opened the linen closet and took out two towels, a sponge, and a bottle of shampoo.

                You came over to the bathtub, getting down on your knees.

                "What are you doing?" Liam asked with a cough, arching a brow.

                "Taking care of you," you whispered, using the sponge to carry the water up to his shoulders and letting it trickle down.

                "But you don't," he sneezed, "need to give me a bath."

                "Are you feeling achy?"

                "What does that have to do with--"

                "Are you feeling achy?" you repeated, washing his chest with the sponge.

                "Yes..."

                "Then you need me to give you a bath," you stated, squirting some soap onto the sponge before lathering his arm.

                "What if your mum comes home with her boyfriend and sees you giving me a bath?" he sniffled.

                "She'll freak out..."

                "See? You shouldn't be--"

                "...and then understand after I explain to her you have the flu," you grinned at him as you squeezed the sponge dry of any soap.

                "How do you know I have the flu?"

                "Just a hunch based on the symptoms," you replied, starting to wash off the bubbles on his chest.

                He was silent after that while you rinsed him off and began to wash his hair with the shampoo.

                "You're going to have to deal with smelling like lilacs and lilies for the next few days," you chuckled, running your soapy fingers through his hair.

                "Why...?" he smirked at you as you leaned over him to see what you were doing.

                "Look at the shampoo bottle."

                "Y/N..." he whined before going into another coughing fit.

                You paused in massaging his scalp to see if he was okay.

                "I'm fine..." he cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

                "Good," you said, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

                "But why couldn't you get a bottle of your mum's boyfriend's shampoo?"

                You threw your head back in laughter while he sat in a tub of bubbles, sulking.

                Your mother and M/BF/N didn't come home until you had just tucked Liam into the guestroom's bed. You were downstairs, putting away the medicine you had given him for his fever when they walked in with a bunch of groceries. They asked you about Liam and where he was. You explained the situation and told them he should be better tomorrow.

                And he was.

                Liam came downstairs to breakfast the next morning with a wide smile on his face. He was still experiencing symptoms, but he wasn't as bad as the day before.

                "I wouldn't mind waking up to that every morning," your mother chuckled in your ear, while enjoying a cup of tea with you.

                You followed her line of vision to see Liam, shirtless, sitting and chatting amicably with M/BF/N.

                "I hope you mean your boyfriend," you chuckled before taking a sip. "Because the sick one is mine."

Louis: He has bronchitis.

                It was day two of your family camping trip, and from the moment he woke up, your boyfriend would not stop coughing. It wasn't just regular coughing, either. He sounded like he was hacking up one of his lungs...or both.

                "Here's some water, Love," you said, stepping into your tent.

                Louis sat up, looking disoriented. His hair was uncombed and hanging in his face while his eyes were bloodshot.

                "Thanks, Lo--" he went to grab the cup in your hand but he was suddenly thrown into another coughing fit.

                "Oh, Louis..." you frowned, getting on your knees and shuffling over the sleeping bags to get to him.

                "Don't come near me, Y/N," he said in between coughs. "I don't want you getting sick."

                "Don't be ridiculous," you scowled, getting closer and bringing the water with you. "As soon as you stop coughing and feel that it's alright to drink a little, let me know."

                He nodded while the coughs eventually subsided. After a minute, he said, "Give it here."

                You gave him the cup and watched him gulp it all down.

                "Don't down it so fast, Louis," you said, putting your hand on the bottom of the cup. "You'll trigger another coughing fit."

                He glanced at you before doing as you say, slowing down his drinking. When he empties the cup, he winces, "My chest hurts..."

                "I'm sorry, Babe," you frowned, putting the back of your hand to his forehead.

                He watched you bring your hand to your own forehead, comparing the temperatures. You repeated the process a few times, trying to figure out if he had a fever. He felt a little colder to you...but you wanted to be sure...

                "Am I hot?" he asks.

                "I'm not sure, but there's definitely a difference in temperature," you said, getting up to your feet.

                "Where are you going?" he coughed, looking up at you.

                "I'm going to see if my mother has a thermometer."

                "Oh..."

                "I'll be right back, so stay here and relax," you said, ducking out of the tent before he could protest.

                "Mum?" you ran a bit down the campsite, looking for her. Your father was at the grill, cooking, believe it or not, pancakes along with bacon and sausages.

                "She's gone for a swim in the lake," he said, flipping a light brown pancake. "Is there something wrong?"

                "Louis isn't feeling too well," you sighed.

                "He's still coughing?"

                "Yeah, but it's gotten worse. I want to take his temperature," you replied, trying to spot your mother in the water.

                "Well, let me know if he has one. I think he may have Bronchitis."

                And he didn't have to say it for you to know that you would have to drive home and get a doctor to check him out if that was the case.

                "Would he have a fever if he has Bronchitis?" you asked, squinting at your father because of the morning light.

                "No. He may have a slightly lower temperature, though."

                "Do you, by any chance, know if we have a first aid kit with a thermometer in it?"

                "You'll have to ask your mother," he replied, filling a plate with pancakes.

                "Thanks, Dad," you kissed his cheek before running down towards the lake, keeping an eye out for your mother.

                The lake was really cold in the mornings, being without the sunlight for a while, but your mother never had a problem with it. She loved swimming before dawn, and occasionally, she would wake you up early to join her. She didn't this time for obvious reasons.

                "Mum?" you called, walking down the path to the part of the lake she usually entered and exited.

                "Yes?" she finally emerged from the water, grabbing the towel she had left on the boulder nearby. "Were you looking for me, Darling?"

                "Yes," you stopped in front of her. "Do we have a thermometer somewhere?"

                "In my tent, yes," she replied, drying her hair as you two walked back up to the campsite together. "Why? Is Louis feeling worse?"

                "He's been hacking up internal organs all night. Dad thinks its Bronchitis."

                "Oh, I hope not," she frowned as she led you over to her tent. "You two should leave, though, if he does have it. We don't want it escalating to pneumonia."

                You nodded, "I'm just going to make sure he doesn't have a fever because if he does, he might just be fine after a few days rest and medicine for the symptoms."

                "Alright," she disappeared inside her tent for a moment. "I should have it in our first aid kit..."

                 She came back out of her tent a few minutes later, holding out the instrument you had been looking for, "Here you go."

                "Thanks, Mum," you quickly pecked her cheek before running off to your tent. You stopped only once to refill Louis' cup, figuring he could use it to get better.

                "Y/N?"

                "Yeah, Baby?" you whispered, leaning down next to him.

                "Did you find one?" he asked, putting a hand on your thigh.

                You nodded, holding it up, "Open up."

                 He did as you asked, parting his lips so you could place the thermometer under his tongue.

                "Keep it in there until I say so," you told him, sitting back on your knees and pushing his hair back from his face.

                A minute later, you took it out and read the temperature.

                "Well, you don't have a fever..."

                "That's good," he sighed, lying back down and closing his eyes.

                "No. It's not, Louis," you frowned, seeing that his temperature was below average. "We're going to have to go home."

                "What?" he sat up, going into another coughing fit.

                "Calm down!" you said, rubbing his back and handing his cup.

                "But..." he coughed.

                "A low temperature means you could have Bronchitis, and if left untreated, you could contract pneumonia," you told him, kissing his temple.

                He finally stopped coughing, "But what about your parents?"

                "They'll stay here," you replied.

                "But what about spending some time with them?" he frowned, taking a sip of his water.

                "You're more important, Love," you said, squeezing his hand.

Niall: He has Strep Throat.

                "It's your fault," he groaned, rolling onto his side.

                "I'm sorry, Niall," you sighed, rubbing his back. "I didn't mean to give it to you, but you didn't listen when I told you not to kiss me."

                "I know, but your lips are so irresistible. I couldn't help myself, especially when you give me that look..."

                You chuckled at him, feeling slightly bad about the whole situation, "I'm sorry, Niall. I really am, but once we get home tomorrow, I'll take you to the doctor's."

                "We're leaving early?" he asked, flipping over to look at you. "But we were all going out for dinner tomorrow..."

                "But you have a fever, Niall," you frowned, pushing back his sweaty hair that stuck to his forehead.

                "So...?"

                "So, you probably have Strep, Love."

                "But we can't go home early tomorrow!" he shouted, sitting up.

                "Niall," you pressed against his chest lightly, telling him to lie back down, "you have to rest, and we are leaving tomorrow after breakfast for the doctor's. I don't care about dinner with my family."

                "But..."

                "No," you sighed, getting up off the bed and walking towards the light switch.

                "You're staying in here with me?" he asked, watching you turn off the light and walk towards your side of the bed, bathed in moonlight.

                "Yes," you whispered, pulling back the cover and folding it up.

                "What are you doing?" he asked, shocked by the sudden temperature change.

                "You can't sleep with this heavy thing on you if you're as hot as hell," you replied, putting the folded comforter on the chair in the corner of the room.

                "So I'm hot as hell, am I?" he smirked as you pulled back the sheets and climbed into bed next to him.

                "Yes," you giggled, kissing his flushed cheek. "Now go to sleep."

                "But...you'll get sick," he protested, still wrapping his arms around you.

                "Maybe," you said, placing your head underneath his chin and snuggling into his chest, "but if you're breathing over my head, I have less of a chance."

                He let out a light chuckle, and when his laughter faded away, he whispered, "Y/N?"

                "Hmm?"

                "If I don't have a fever tomorrow after breakfast, can we please stay for dinner?"

                You let out a sigh, "I don't understand what all the hype is about this dinner, but if it means that much to you and those conditions are met, we can stay."

                "Thanks, Babe," he said before kissing the top of your head.

                The next morning, Niall's temperature hadn't returned to normal. You weren't surprised, honestly.

                In the middle of the night, he woke you up, even though he had tried everything to make sure that didn't happen. He couldn't sleep.

                "It feels like a dagger is going down my throat," he whispered, sitting at the edge of the bed.

                You had sat up as he said that, "I'll go get you some medicine to help with that and get you to sleep."

                "Thanks, Babe," he watched you leave the room.

                When you returned, he was still sitting at the edge of the bed. You sat next to him, asking him to face you. He did as he was asked, and you pressed the back of your hand to his head. He didn't feel quite as warm as earlier, but he definitely still had a fever.

                You gave him the pill he needed for the symptoms and temperature, and he swallowed it with a bit of help from the glass of water you had given him. While he finished the water, you got up and went into the bathroom.

                "What are you doing, Princess?" Niall asked, leaning against the doorframe and trying to adjust to the blinding light.

                You didn't answer. You just did what you needed to do, which involved soaking a washcloth with cold water. He watched you wring it out and repeat the process one more time.

                "Here," you said, turning off the light and pointing towards the bedroom with the damp cloth. "Go lie down. I'll put this on your head."

                He nodded and walked back into the guest room, throwing himself onto the bed with a groan, "Why me, Y/N? Why now?"

                "I know, Babe," you frowned, hating to see him like this. "I'm sorry."

                Niall murmured something into the pillow before rolling over and letting you put the cloth on his forehead.

                He smiled once the coolness sunk in, "That feels so good..."

                "Good," you smiled, kissing his cheek before tucking you both under the sheets.

                That was the only incident that night. Niall had fallen asleep before you; you had forced yourself to stay awake to witness the slow and steady breathing.

                He was still down, though, through breakfast when he realized he would be going home early today.

                "I'm sorry, Sweetie," you said from the kitchen, washing the dishes for your stepmom. "I know you wanted to go out tonight, but I don't want to risk it..."

                "I feel like a kid being forced to go to school while I'm sick as a dog," he murmured, pushing the food on his plate around.

                "You're being forced home, Niall," you gave him a soft smile while drying your hands. "Now eat up. Dad made that specially for you."

                "I know!" he exclaimed, grabbing the syrup bottle and leaning back in his chair to see your father at the stove. "Thank you, Sir!"

                "It wasn't a problem, Niall," he replied while cleaning off the frying pan.

                "Um, Sir," Niall began to cut a piece of his French Toast, "would I be able to borrow a bit of your time before I leave?"

                "I don't see why not," he replied, looking up at Niall with a smile. "What do you need?"

                "To talk with you...in private."

                You nearly dropped a plate at that sentence.

                "Do you mind me asking what about?"

                Everyone in the kitchen stopped what they're doing, looking to Niall for an answer.

                "Your blessing." Niall said, barely audible, and you knew in an instant that he had wanted to ask for it over dinner, in front of everyone you loved.

Zayn: He has a stomach virus.

                You sat on the couch in your parents' basement, running your hands through your boyfriend's silky hair. His head was on your lap, and his eyes were closed. You didn't blame him for sleeping, though. He had had a rough afternoon.

                It all started in the morning. Zayn hadn't eaten any of his breakfast, claiming he wasn't hungry.

                "I don't know, Babe," he had shrugged when you asked him why. "I'm just not hungry this morning."

                You blamed it on nerves. Zayn always got nervous when you two were visiting your parents, so you had shrugged off the lack of appetite, being that it was a common symptom of nervousness.

                It was when he asked you to drive, though, that you knew it couldn't be nerves. Zayn hardly ever asks you to drive, but you foolishly didn't mention anything about the odd behavior, figuring that if he didn't want to tell you, he had a reason.

                Well, you found out that reason when Zayn threw up most of the previous night's dinner onto the car floor.

                The moment you saw him keel over, you pulled the car to the side of the road, parking it so you could help your sick boyfriend.

                Zayn didn't seem to be finished by the time you opened his door and began to rub his back. You didn't dare try to move him so he could finish on the grass, fearing how bad of a situation this was. Was he just sick? Was he in pain? Was this a symptom of something serious?

                All you could do was wonder and hope as your boyfriend's stomach finally calmed down, giving him a breather.

                "I'm sorry," he finally said after a few moments.

                "Oh, Babe," you lifted his head so he could look at you, "don't apologize. This wasn't your fault."

                "But..."

                "We're closer to my parents' house, so I'll take you there," you said, cutting off his protest. "Let me get you a bag, just in case."

                After you had handed him a plastic bag, you were on the road again, heading towards your parents' home. Hopefully, they had some medicine and a place they didn't mind getting throw up all over. Knowing them, they'd give you the basement.

                And sure enough, that's where you were now, sitting on the couch with your boyfriend's head resting on your lap. You had a bucket beside you, just in case, and you were prepared for the worst.

                "Honey?" your mother whispered from the top of the stairs.

                "Yeah, Mum?" you replied softly.

                "Dinner's ready, and it might be a good idea to get something in Zayn's stomach, considering it's probably empty."

                You didn't want to do that because you didn't want him going through another wave of vomiting, but you knew he couldn't take medicine if he didn't eat.

                "Alright, Mum," you sighed after a bit of deliberation. "We'll be up shortly."

                "Okay, Dear," she said before closing the door to the basement.

                You looked down at your sleeping boyfriend, continuing to play with his hair, "Zayn? Zayn, Love? I hate to wake you, but..."

                Zayn stirred, turning his head and letting out a low groan, "What's wrong?"

                "Dinner's ready," you replied, letting go of his hair to let him sit up.

                "Are you sure I should be eating?" he blinked and began to stretch his arms.

                "I really don't want to feed you because I know the chances of you being by the toilet again are high, but if you want to take any medicine, you'll have to eat a little something," you told him regretfully. "I'm pretty sure my mum made you some toast, so it won't be too hard on your stomach."

                Zayn let out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair, "I'm causing so much trouble..."

                "No, you aren't, Zayn," you shook your head at him. "You can't help it, and we're just trying to take care of you."

                "But this was supposed to be a fun weekend," he yawned.

                "I know, but I'd rather be here, taking care of you when you feel sick than anywhere else," you assured him, knowing it was the truth. Zayn meant the world to you, and seeing him like this made you feel sick.

                He stayed silent for a moment, taking in your words before giving you a small grin. He held out his hand and said, "Come on. Let's go eat."

                "Let's," you agreed, following him up the stairs and onto the main floor.

                After he ate and took some Pepto-Bismol, Zayn went right to bed in the guest bedroom. It was still early, but you, wanting to be with your boyfriend, bid your parents goodnight and headed upstairs. You got yourself in your pajamas--a T-shirt and sweatpants--brushed your teeth, and washed your face. By this time, you expected to see Zayn fast asleep in bed, but instead, he was sitting up, wide awake.

                "Zayn? What are you doing up?" you asked, closing the bedroom door behind you. "Do you need to go to the bathroom or...?"

                "I'm fine, Y/N," he chuckled. "Stop worrying so much."

                "How can I not worry when you spent most of the day emptying your stomach?" you asked, sitting on your side of the bed.

                "Because I'm feeling better now," he replied with a smile. "You took such good care of me that I'm practically cured."

                "No sex."

                "What--why do you think I want that?" he asked, his eyes widening.

                You laughed at his attempt to act innocent, "Two reasons," you lay down on your stomach."One, you're a boy. Boys usually always have it on the brain. Two, no one recovers from a twenty-four hour stomach virus after twelve hours."

                Zayn frowned at your reasoning, "But..."

                You kissed his cheek, cutting him off, "You can have your way with me tomorrow night, if I find you're feeling better. Until then..." you shifted your position and wrapped your arms around him, "you'll have to deal with cuddling."

                "I think I can handle that," he whispered and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead in the process.

[chrissysmith257]

Preference Series {AU: Aboard the Titanic} Preparations (His POV)

Hey, Lovelies! This is the second installment to the AU preference series. It is in his POV, and a few of the preferences in this series will be in his POV because...honestly, who doesn't want to know his thoughts on the situation? So, thank you for your time, and I am still taking requests in my ask, just, well, ask. Hope you enjoy this preference!

- Chrissy

Master List

Part 1

Part 3

Harry: He's in First Class.

                "There you are, Harry," my mother smiled, getting up from her chair at the dining table.

                "Good morning, Mother," I whispered, kissing her cheek.

                At the table, my father sat with my younger sister and grandparents. My grandfather had his face buried in a newspaper while my grandmother sat quietly, sipping her tea. My father was enjoying his full plate of poached eggs and toast, and my sister, Gemma, sat beside him, eating her porridge.

                "Good morning," I nodded to all of them with a smile before taking my seat in between my grandmother and mother.

                "Good morning, Harry," my grandfather folded up his newspaper and set it down. "I read something in the paper today, something I thought might interest you."

                "What is it?" I asked, putting my napkin in my lap.

                "It's an article about the ship we are going to be taking to America," he replied. "They tell a little about the ship and name some of the people who are travelling on it."

                I nodded, before turning around to get the attention of one of the waiters, "Excuse me. I'd like to order, please."

                "Of course, Sir," he bowed stiffly. "I'll be right back."

                "Our names are in the article," my grandfather passed me the paper.

                I wasn't really interested in reading about our family, but I took the paper anyway and gave it a once over. Sure enough, our names were there, but I was more interested in the vessel we were to be traveling on.

                It was quite luxurious, according to this article. Ten course meals for first class passengers, including a library and common area. Most of the rooms and luxuries listed were exclusively for first class, and they didn't mention anything about the accommodations for the lower classes.  

                "Very interesting," I said to humor my grandfather. "Did you read it, Father?"

                "No, give it here," he said after wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I have to check the stock market as well."

                "You can listen to the stock market on the radio," my grandfather frowned. "For now, read the article."

                "Sir?"

                I turned to see the waiter from earlier.

                "What would you like for breakfast this morning?" he asked, leaning forward.

                "I'll just have the scrambled eggs with bacon and sausage, please."

                "And to drink with that?"

                "Tea, please."

                "I'll be right back with your order, Sir," he bowed before walking off.

                I turned around in my chair, letting out a sigh. I didn't feel up to travel, honestly. I looked at my family around the table, each doing their own thing and ignoring the other. What a family.

                I shook my head.

                This was going to be a bore of a trip.

Liam: He's a Crewmember.

                It was an early morning for me, but then again, the last few days had been early mornings, too. Today was a special day, though. Today was the day the Titanic would begin her maiden voyage.

                "Liam!"

                I turned around to see my friend Andy running up to me.

                "Morning, Andy," I smiled at him as he slowed down to my pace. "Sleep well last night?"

                "Not a wink," he sighed regretfully. "I was too excited to sleep."

                I laughed, "Same here."

                "So you headed off to breakfast?"

                I nodded, "Then off to work in the engine room."

                "Well, I already ate, but I could put off work for a little bit," he yawned, rubbing the back of his head. "It's practically a holiday, anyway."

                "One that we're working," I reminded him.

                "Yeah, well...at least they're giving us some breaks."

                "Breaks that we're supposed to use for sleep."

                "Why do you have to be such a stick in the mud, Liam?" he chuckled as we entered the crew dining room. "We should use our break time wisely."

                "And what do you mean by 'wisely'?" I asked with a smirk, already sure of what he was going to say.

                "Chatting with some of the lady passengers, obviously!"

                I let out a chuckle, "How did I know you were going to mention women?"

                "What?" he acted as if he was wounded by my words. "I'm a man! What do you expect?"

                "I'm a man, too, but," I replied, grabbing an apple and carton of milk, "you know we're not allowed to talk to any of the passengers unless spoken to, and even then, we aren't supposed to be near them."

                "I know. I know," he grumbled as we sat down, "but who's going to say anything?"

                "Well, most of these ladies will be of a higher class than us," I said, taking a bite of my apple. "I wouldn't put it passed them to complain."

                Andy snorted, "Why should class matter?"

                "Because it does."

                "But why does it? If I fancy a woman, why can't I just have her?" he asked, leaning his elbows on the table.

                I rolled my eyes at his logic, "Women aren't meant to be had, even though that's not how most men think. Women have their wants and needs, too, and if you don't meet them, well..." I shrugged, "she won't want you."

                "And since when are you such a lady expert?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

                "It's not what you think," I shook my head. "I have two sisters at home, so I'm used to them."

                "You going for them?"

                I drank the carton of milk empty, "Yeah."

                I was going to America for my family.

Louis: He's a Stowaway.

                I walked down the busy streets of Southampton, with my bag over my shoulder and a spring in my step. This was it. Today was the day.

                Automobiles made their way through the crowds, and I watched in wonder. The rich passengers were arriving now with their expensive cases and fancy clothes.

                It was truly something to see, especially the vessel they were boarding. She was huge, reaching towards the heavens. "The Unsinkable Ship," they called her, and I hoped she lived up to her name.

                She would be leaving in two hours, giving me enough time to look for breakfast. And here it came now.

                A portly man walked towards me, a crate of apples in his hairy arms. I made my way over to him, careful to dodge the people making up the crowd. Once I was close enough, I pretended to trip, crashing into him.

                The crate of apples fell to the floor, spilling its contents on the cobblestone street.

                "I'm so sorry, Sir," I was helping him to his feet when he pushed my hands away.

                "Ge' off me ya bloody bastard!" he shouted before getting down on his knees to pick up the runaway fruit.

                I got down on the dirty street, helping him despite his horrible attitude. All I wanted was a free apple.

                I helped him collect what I could, making sure to snag one for myself. When the crate was full again, he glared at me and walked off, holding the crate to his body.

                How rude. He didn't even thank me.

                I shrugged, taking out the apple I had stored in my shirt. I wiped the red fruit on my sleeve before taking a bite of it.

                I walked back towards the ship, where people were still rushing to board. I had to finish my breakfast before I could attempt to do the same, but I had already locked eyes on my ticket.

                She was a young woman, obviously traveling alone. She carried her own cases, unloading the automobile that had brought her here. Once she had done that, she turned to a middle-aged couple, who I assumed were her parents.

                The mother seemed to be an overemotional type of gal. She had her handkerchief out, and she was crying as she hugged and kissed the woman several times. Afterwards, father and daughter shared a meaningful hug.

                Then they were looking around as if they were lost.

                I smirked, knowing exactly what they were looking for.

                "Excuse me," I said, stepping into the family's line of vision. "Would you like me to help you carry your bags?"

                The father regarded me, "You are a crew member?"

                "Yes," I nodded before grabbing her cases.

Niall: He's in Third Class.

                I sat on one of the vacant benches by the Southampton docks, taking out one of the many letters written to me by my older brother.

                The one I had pulled out of my pocket this time was the one that prompted me to travel from my little hometown in Ireland to Southampton; soon, I'd be going even further away from home.

Dear Niall,

            I know this will seem like sudden news to you, Mum, and Dad, but I got married. I wanted to invite you three to the ceremony, but I didn't know how we could afford it. I could barely afford the wedding, much less tickets for the three of you to sail to America. Don't worry, though. You didn't miss too much. The wedding was tiny. We only had a few guests, including her parents and a few drinking buddies of mine. But now we have a problem. I'm not just providing for my wife but also a newborn. Yes, my wife gave birth to a boy, and yes, he was conceived after we were wedded. What I'm basically saying is, I can't provide for the three of you anymore. I'm terribly sorry.

Love, Gregory

                I let out a sigh, folding the damned letter back up.

                My elder brother had went to America to get a better job and send back money for us to live off of until we could join him there. But now he had a new wife and son to think about. We couldn't expect him to put us over them; I just wish he would've waited until we had come over.

                Now I was being sent to finish making the money we needed to bring my parents over. It wasn't that big of a deal, really, but I knew I was going to hate this trip. Being  Irish in a sea of English people was not going to be easy; I was going to be looked down on, and I didn't take too kindly to that sort of treatment.

                I adjusted the knapsack I had on my shoulder, which carried everything I personally owned besides the clothes on my back, and got up from the bench, heading towards the large vessel that would take me to my new life.

                I wondered, as I walked towards it, what America would be like. I was going to arrive in New York City, and I was probably going to go find my brother; the least he could do was give me a roof over my head. I was also interested in meeting his wife and my little nephew.

                I guess the emotion I was feeling somewhat resembled excitement, but a part of me was anxious about something.

Zayn: He's in Second Class.

                "Now, Zayn, remember what I told you."

                "I know, Mum," I chuckled before kissing her cheek. "I won't forget."

                "Good" she nodded in approval, fixing my jacket.

                "Mum," I groaned, annoyed by her fretting. "I'm a grown man. I'm not five anymore."

                "I know. I know," she sighed, stepping back a bit to look at me. "This is just so hard. You're leaving for America without me or your sisters, and I just--"

                "Don't cry, Mum," I said, pulling her into a hug. "I promise that we'll see each other again very soon."

                "Yes, at your wedding," she remembered.

                Ah, yes. How could I forget I was getting married? This is the first time I'm allowed to go off on my own, and it's because I'm marrying some rich American woman.

                "Why do I have to marry her, again?" I murmured.

                "You've been promised to her since you were a toddler."

                "So?"

                "So? You're old enough to go and marry her!"

                She said it as if it was common sense, but to me, it wasn't. There was so much I hadn't done yet; there were so many places I hadn't seen. I wanted to travel and explore the world, but when I'm finally leaving the country, it's to go trap myself in an office with my fiancée's father. 

                "I better get going, Mum," I said, hugging her one last time. "I promise I'll write to you as soon as I get to New York."

                "I expect a long one," she smiled at me as I bent down to pick up my cases. "At least a page for each day aboard."

                What a pain...

                "Of course, Mum."

                But I loved her.

                "Goodbye, dear," she sniffled, taking out her handkerchief. "Have a safe trip."

                "Thanks, Mum," I nodded before heading into the crowd only to bump into someone."Oh, e-excuse me!"

                "Oops!" the woman stopped, turning to gaze at me with the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. "I'm so sorry!"

                She was adorable.

                "It's okay, Miss," I smiled. "It was my fault for being in the way. Are you a passenger on this ship?"

                "I am," she replied with a soft grin.

                Good. Maybe I would see her again...Wait? Why did I want to see her again? She was some common girl, probably third class! I couldn't associate with her, especially if I was going to be marrying someone within the month.

                "I wish you a safe journey, then," I tipped my hat to her before walking away.

                I had meant the words, but I was conflicted. A part of me wanted to look into those amazing eyes again while the other wished I had never met them in the first place.

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {7} Differences Are What Makes You Beautiful (His POV)

This was a request, asking for Y/N to have something different about her from the boys. The requester suggested a few differences, and I used some of them. I hope you enjoy, Lovelies! And I am still taking requests!

- Chrissy

Master List

Harry: Height.

                "Harry?"

                "Yes, Love?" I called over my shoulder, not looking up from my phone.

                There was a grunt, a scream, and then the sound of something shattering.

                I threw my phone onto the couch, swiftly getting up to go into the kitchen, "Y/N? Are you alright?"

                "Yeah...I'm fine."

                I entered the kitchen to see my girlfriend of two years backed into a corner. Glass shards were all around her bare feet, keeping her where she stood.

                "Don't move, Love," I told her. "I'll go get the Hoover."

                I ran out of the room and towards the closet by the staircase. I took out my shoes and slipped them onto my bare feet. I rolled the Hoover over to the kitchen to see my precious Y/N leaning down and picking up the pieces.

                "Y/N!" I walked over to her, discarding the wire to the Hoover. "I told you not to move."

                "I know, but--Harry!"

                I picked her up in my arms and walked into the living room, gently placing her down on the sofa.

                "What happened?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

                "I was trying to get a glass for your water--"

                "Y/N! Why didn't you ask me for help?" I frowned, knowing that this whole mess was a result of her refusal to depend on me because of her height.

                "I could've gotten it, honest," she said, sitting up and nodding her head. "I had it in reach when I..."

                "Dropped it," I finished for her with a sigh.

                "...I'm sorry, Harry," she apologized after a moment. "I don't ask for help with stuff like this because I feel like my height makes me a burden to you..."

                I shook my head, chuckling at her as I got down on my knees before her, "You're ridiculous, you know that? You could never be a burden for me, Y/N. Never."

                "But I'm so short..."

                "And I like that," I said, taking her hands in mine and brushing my lips against her knuckles. "I like holding your small frame. I like your tiny hands, and how they fit perfectly in mine. You're my contrast, Y/N, and it's because of that that we're so amazing together."

                "You really think so?" she giggled, smiling up at me.

                I nodded, grinning from ear to ear, before bringing my lips to hers, "Your height is what makes you you, the beautiful woman I fell in love with."

Liam: Ethnicity.

                "And this...?"

                "That's lahmajun," she explained to me. "It's like pizza, but it has meat and spices instead of cheese and sauce."

                "Oh..." I nodded before looking at another dish. "What's that?"

                "Tabbouleh," she replied. "It's a type of salad, but it's made of parsley."

                "What does it taste like?" I asked, looking at Y/N.

                "Kind of bitter because of the lemon juice, but it's really good. You should try it."

                My girlfriend and I were at her cousin's engagement party, which was being held at a Lebanese restaurant. Y/N had grown up with this kind of food, but I was completely lost without her. All of the dishes looked so different, and the only things I recognized were the kabobs and rice.

                After scooping a spoonful of tabbouleh onto my plate, I looked at the rice and saw little pieces of something in it, "What's the stuff in the rice?"

                "Pilaf. It's like angel hair pasta."

                I took two spoonfuls of that before adding a kabob to my plate. Y/N was behind me, sampling a bit from each dish, and when she glanced at mine...

                "Is that all you're going to eat, Liam?" she looked worried. "Are you not feeling well?"

                "No..." I felt a bit embarrassed. "I've just never seen food like this before...much less tried it, so I'm being careful."

                "But if you're careful, you'll never try anything," she pointed out as we headed back to our table.

                "That's true..."

                "Tell you what?" she smiled at me."I'll let you eat a bit off my dish. If there's anything you like, we'll get you some more."

                "Sounds good to me."

                And so we shared what was on our plates, tasting and trying. Apparently, there was food here that even Y/N had never tried before.

                In the end, we did find ourselves back at the buffet table, and we treated the desert the same way. We each sampled different foods before going back for more of our favorites.

                "You know, I never really thought about your heritage or ethnicity..." I told her as we walked towards our car, "but tonight got me thinking about it. It's cool that you're Lebanese."

                She chuckled squeezing my hand, "You're funny, Liam."

                "No," I shook my head with a grin. "I'm serious. I thought it was impossible to be in any more love with you than I already am, but after today, I managed to do just that."

Louis: Ability.

                "Y/N? What's wrong?" I shouted when I entered our shared bedroom.

                She was sitting there, her head down. When she heard me, she had looked at me for a second, revealing the tears that were running down her red cheeks.

                I went over to her, kneeling in front of her feet and taking her hands in mine, "What's wrong, Babe? Why are you crying?"

                I stopped holding one of her hands to push her beautiful hair back from her wet face. I tucked whatever strands I could behind her ears before stroking her cheek.

                "Shh..." I wiped away some tears. "Just tell me what's wrong, Love. I'll do whatever I can to fix it."

                To my dismay, my words triggered another wave of tears, but this time, she tried to speak to me, "H-How can you possibly want to be with me?"

                "What?"

                I thought I had misheard her, that those horrible words had never left her mouth.

                "Why would you say that, Y/N?" I asked, shaking my head and trying to hide how angry I was.

                "Look at me, Louis," she whispered, sniffling.

                And I did. All I saw was the most stunning woman I had ever met as well as the love of my life. What else was there besides the pain?

                "What do you see?"

                I looked up at her, meeting her teary gaze, "I see the only woman I have ever truly loved in agony, and it's killing me."

                Her eyes widened at what I had said, but the surprise soon dissipated from her features, "No, Louis. Look at me. I'm in a wheelchair. I can't walk."

                "I'm fully aware of that, Y/N," I tightened my hand around hers, realizing that this was about her handicap. "You were always in a wheelchair, and I never gave a damn."

                "But why? Don't you realize that I can never slow dance with you? I can't ever run or walk hand-in-hand with you? I can't get out of this damn thing and kiss you if I wanted to!" new tears streamed down her cheeks in her anger.

                I remained silent and just watched her. Why couldn't she see that I didn't care? We wouldn't have gotten this far if I did.

                I stood up, bringing her with me, supporting her with my strength.

                "What are you--?"

                "Go ahead, Y/N," we were almost eye-to-eye now. "Get out of the damn thing and kiss me."

Niall: Age.          

                "You should've gone," I whispered, looking up at the starry sky above us.

                "With my friends who were all bringing dates?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

                "No...you could've gone with a date," I sighed, kissing the top of her head.

                "But, Niall, you're the only one I wanted to go to prom with."

                I knew that, and it killed me that I was the reason she wouldn't go. At her school, they wouldn't allow me in because I was almost twenty-one, and she was seventeen. It was stupid, the age restriction, but what could we do? I may be the member of an internationally famous boy band, but there were some things I just couldn't do.

                So here we were, on Y/N's prom night, sitting on the balcony outside her house. I had to admit, it wasn't such a bad thing. I had her wrapped in my arms, sitting on my lap with a blanket covering us both. We had just gotten back from dinner; I took her to one of her favorite restaurants to make it up to her, but I still felt guilty.

                "I wish I was younger," I said, resting my chin on top of her head.

                "I don't," she said, twisting around in my arms so that she could see me better. She cupped my face in her soft hands and looked me in the eyes. "I love you, Niall Horan, age and all. So don't you dare wish you were any different for me."

                I stared at the girl in front of me. For her age, she was extremely mature, and maybe that's how people should truly be measured. Her mind was not that of a seventeen year old.

                "But you missed your prom for me," I said before pecking her pink lips.

                "So?" she asked when we parted. "I don't care about prom."

                "It's a once in a lifetime experience, Y/N," I pointed out, frowning at her.

                "And so is being here with you," she retorted with a smile. "We'll never exactly repeat this night. Even if we try, we'll be having different conversations, using different words."

                I didn't know what to say to the truth she had presented me with, so I just pulled her back down on my chest. It was no use. Why dwell on something that was already done? I should be enjoying this.

                "I love you, too, Y/N, age and all."

Zayn: Weight.

                I just got home from another long day at the studio to find the flat quiet. Y/N was nowhere in sight, but dinner was on the table.

                She had made my favorite chicken dish tonight, but where she usually sat, there was no plate with hot chicken. Instead, she had a bowl full of salad.

                I let out a sigh. She's been doing this for almost a week now, and it was starting to bother me. Y/N's body was perfect, so I didn't know what she was doing.

                She had also been sneaking out to the gym, telling me she was "meeting up with some friends" or "going shopping." But I knew what she was up to. We had been together for three years now; I knew her better than she knew herself, and she had no trouble admitting it.

                However, I did not know what was causing this. I never knew the actual number, but Y/N was thin enough for me. She was the ideal ratio of soft to curvy. I loved wrapping my arms around her and pulling her supple body against my hard frame. She was beautiful.

                But she had never dieted before, so I began to wonder about the sudden change.

                "Babe?" I called, walking towards the stairs.

                There was no answer, so I climbed the stairs and called again, "Y/N? Where are you, Love?"

                I heard a door slam and then her voice, "D-Don't come in! I'm...naked!"

                She sounded shaky, as if she had been crying, and I knew that I had to get in there.

                "I don't care. I've seen your body plenty of times before," I turned the doorknob to find it locked. "Let me in, Y/N."

                "No."

                "Why not?"

                "B-Because..." she sniffled, looking at the floor.

                "Because you're crying?" I guessed, and she went silent.

                The door opened a crack to reveal red, puffy eyes.

                "Y/N..." I frowned, trying to open the door more so I could pull her into my arms, "why are you doing this?"

                "Because I weigh more than you!" she blurted out.

                So fucking what? Is there a law that says the woman should weigh less than the man?

                "Come here," I whispered.

                "But--"

                "Y/N...I don't care about your weight. I think your body is perfect for me, so get over here so I can hug it."

                She opened the door and walked into my arms.

                "Perfect," I said, kissing her forehead.

[chrissysmith257]

Preference Series {AU: Aboard the Titanic} Preparations (Your POV)

Okay, Lovelies! I know I said I wasn't going to post today, but it turns out I will have wifi certain time of the day. So I will be posting today! I also figured out my queue and how it works so...you will have preferences to read tomorrow.

This is the first part to the AU series I was talking about. Please tell me what you think in my ask! Enjoy, Lovelies! I'll post another preference later, a requested one. I'm still taking requests, so please don't hesitate to ask!

- Chrissy

Master List

Part 2

Harry: You're a Nursemaid.

                "Y/N!"

                You let out a sigh, dropping the folded clothes into the suitcase before turning to see your mistress, "Yes, Milady?"

                "Did you pack Andrew's and Michael's cases yet? We can't be late," she asked, standing outside the doorway to the nursery.

                "Lucas should have put their cases in the car, Milady. I'm just finishing up Caroline's," you replied, gesturing towards the opened, but full, suitcase on her bed.

                "Good. The children will be done eating any moment. See to it that they are wearing their outdoor attire before putting them in the carriage," your mistress ordered before walking further down the hall.

                You turned back to Caroline's case, which was actually one of seven. Each child had a case for different articles of clothing, including accessories, hats, and shoes. The boys only had six cases, making their packing a little bit easier.

                You had been a nursemaid for the Abbott family for five years now. Mrs. and Mr. Abbott hired you after Caroline's birth, and according to Andrew, the oldest of the Abbott children, you were the nicest nursemaid they had ever had.

                "I've returned, Y/N," Lucas, the youngest butler, entered the room with his hands folded behind his back.

                "Alright..." you closed the last of Caroline's luggage. "These seven are Caroline's."

                He nodded his head before picking up the smallest four. You followed him downstairs but parted in the foyer. He went out the front door, and you headed into the dining room, where the children sat.

                The two boys, Andrew and Michael sat with their heads down, obediently eating their breakfast while Caroline, the youngest of the three children, sat with her arms crossed and her lips in a pout.

                "Caroline...Why aren't you eating the food Cook prepared specially for you?" you asked, looking over her shoulder at the untouched plates.

                "I'm not hungry," she muttered, refusing to look at you.

                "But you must be. You haven't eaten since yesterday evening."

                Her stomach let out a growl, informing you that you had been correct in assuming her lack of hunger wasn't the issue here.

                Her face softened when she heard her stomach's protest, knowing that her lie was revealed, "I don't want to go."

                "I know, Caroline," you sighed, leaning down next to her chair, "but your Mummy and Daddy are taking you on vacation to New York City! You should be happy..."

                "But I don't want to leave home," her lower lip quivered, signaling she was going to cry at any moment.

                "Oh, Caroline," you put your hand on her back, "don't cry. We will all have fun on the Titanic, and then once we arrive in New York, we will explore the city."

                "You promise?"

                "I promise."

Liam: You're in Third Class.

                "Mum?"

                "Oh, how I'll miss this house..." your six-month pregnant mother whispered, looking around the small room.

                "Mum?" you repeated.

                "Yes, Dear?" she turned to look at you.

                "Where are Edmund and Marie?" you asked, stuffing your nightgown into one of the cases.

                "They should be around the brook," she replied, walking towards the window above the sink. "There they are."

                "What are they doing?" you arranged the clothes in the other case you were bringing, making sure you had packed the twins' night clothes, undergarments, and clothes.

                "Just running around like little ones do," she replied, absentmindedly putting a hand to her stomach.

                You let out a sigh, "Well, I better call them in soon. We need to make sure we're on time for the train to Southampton."

                "Y/N, I know your father has been working so hard to get us over to America, but...I don't know...should we really go?"

                You looked at your mother, keeping in mind that she was currently in a delicate condition, "What do you mean? Dad paid for our tickets. We'll be in New York City next Wednesday. What's wrong?"

                Your mother was about to answer when the door to your tiny cottage hit the wall.

                "Mum! Mum! Mum!" your younger sister yelled while holding up a white wildflower. "Look! I picked this for you!"

                Your mother put her hand on her back, leaning down to take the flower in her delicate hand, "Oh, thank you, Sweetie. It's beautiful."

                "Edmund picked you a yellow one, but I thought this one was prettier!" she said excitedly.

                "Aww...you two are too cute," your mother chuckled, pushing Marie's hair back with the tips of her fingers. "Where is your brother? Hmm? We have to get going soon."

                "He's coming," she replied, dancing over to you.

                "Hello, Marie," you smiled at her before lifting her up into your arms. "Are you ready to go see Daddy?"

                "Yes!" she beamed, showing off the gap where her two front teeth were supposed to be.

                "Mum!" your brother ran into the house and up to your mother.

                "Hello, Edmund," she smiled at him. "Marie told me you picked some flowers for me..."

                "I did!" he exclaimed, holding out a bouquet of purple, yellow, and white wild flowers.

                "They're so beautiful, Edmund!" she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Thank you both so much!"

                "You're welcome!" they both shouted before running out of the house again.

                "What were you going to say earlier, Mum?" you turned to look at her.

                "Oh I was wondering what we'd do if the ship sinks..." she watched her children play.

                "It won't, Mum," you said, grabbing a case in each hand. "After all, the Titanic is considered unsinkable."

Louis: You're in Second Class.

                "Why must you go to New York?" your mother had asked for the fifth time since she woke up this morning.

                "I already told you, Mum," you sighed, handing your maid, Phyllis, another one of your dresses. "Put this one in the trunk with the rest."

                "Yes, Milady," Phyllis replied, taking the dress from you arms.

                "But there are plenty of opportunities here for you to write. Why must you go to America?" she watched you dig through your wardrobe and pull out one of your favorite hats.

                "America is the land of opportunity, Mum, and the biggest publishers are in New York City," you handed a few hats over to Phyllis.

                "But you don't need to be an author," your mother protested.

                "What's the alternative? Do what my cousin did?" you shook your head with a chuckle. "I don't think so."

                "What's wrong with what your cousin did?" your mother asked. "It's what I did and many other women your age have done. I wish you would do it, too."

                "I don't want to get married yet, Mum," you handed Phyllis another few dresses to pack in the chest.

                "But what's wrong with marriage? Your cousin is perfectly happy in the country with her husband. She is taken care of, and she doesn't have to worry about a thing..."

                "I don't want a wealthy man to take care of me," you whispered to yourself, knowing that your mother would have a hernia if she heard.

                "All you have to do is find a rich man to wed," your mother preached. "It's that simple, but you're too much like your father. You would've been better off born as a man."

                "That's what you think," you smiled at her, closing your wardrobe, "but I'll show you, Mum. I'll show you what an intelligent woman can do if she puts her mind to it."

                "Is that it, Milady?" Phyllis asked, folding her hands in front of her skirt.

                "Yes," you nodded at her. "Thank you kindly, Phyllis."

                "Not a problem, Milady," she bowed her head before excusing herself from the room.

                "Now, Mum, why don't you go ready yourself," you took her by the arm and led her out of your room, "and I'll go see what father is up to."

                Your mother huffed, "I swear I had a son," before walking down the hall to her bedroom.

                You walked towards the staircase and looked around. Seeing that no one was to witness what you were about to do, you picked up your skirts and sat on the banister, sliding your way down with a giggle.

                At the bottom, you composed yourself and set out for your father's study with a skip in your step. You couldn't wait for your new journey to start.                                                                                    

Niall: You're in First Class.

                You sat in the window seat, watching the stable boy play with his son in the pasture. They wrestled each other in the grass without a care for their clothing or skin.

                "Y/N? Are you listening?"

                "Hmm?" you looked towards your mother.

                She frowned, "I was telling you that the carriage will be here soon to take us to Southampton. Did Amelia pack all your things?"

                "She did, Mother," you nodded.

                "Did you make sure she packed that blue dress with the pearls?"

                "Yes, Mother."

                "And it's matching slippers?"

                "Yes, Mother."

                "Good," her frown disappeared. "I'll have Gregory and Fredrick bring your cases outside."

                After that, she finally left you alone, and you took it upon yourself to walk through your childhood home for the last time.

                You were traveling to America with your father and mother. You were to spend most of your time on board being courted by a man your father had chosen for your hand, without your consent, of course. You had never met the man that was to take you as his wife, but your mother promised you that he was worthy of you.

                But this wasn't what you wanted.

                You didn't want the rest of your life to be like your childhood. It would only be a matter of time, after arriving in New York City, before you would wed, and then you were condemned to whatever manor he chose for the rest of your life, having his children but never lifting a finger otherwise.

                You had no choice, being the daughter of a British aristocrat. Marriage was a binding contract, not a promise of eternal love.

                As you thought about what was to come, you sighed. In a few hours, you would be on the Titanic, sailing towards the rest of your miserable life.

                "Milady, your mother requests you ready yourself to leave," your housekeeper's, Priscilla, voice broke through your thoughts, bringing you back to reality.

                "Alright," you picked up your skirts and made your way down the stairs. At the bottom, Butler Hans was waiting for you.

                "Thank you, Hans," you whispered as helped you into your fur coat.

                "Your welcome, Milady."

                "Y/N!" your mother's voice echoed throughout the foyer.

                "Yes, Mother?"

                "Are you ready to leave?" she walked towards you in her mink coat and silk gloves.

                You nodded your head, "I am."

                "Good," the corners of her mouth curved. "The carriages are here, and your father is already waiting in one."

                With that, she went outside, bidding her staff goodbye. You followed behind, but not without thanking the people that had been with you all these years.

                "Your welcome, Milady. I wish you a safe and enjoyable journey," Hans said bowing low.

Zayn: You're a Stowaway.

                The streets of Southampton, England, were unlike anything you had ever seen before. They were busy with people doing millions of different things.

                Horse-drawn carriages transported the rich while poor peddlers roamed the cobblestone roads, holding their dingy hands out for a shilling or two.

                What were you doing here?

                You had traveled three days by foot from your orphanage in the countryside. Your feet were black and tired, but it had been worth it.

                Soon, people would be boarding the vessel you planned to sneak on, and then all you had to do was hide out. It shouldn't be too hard, considering the voyage would only take about a week's time, but you still had to have a plan.

                Your plan involved constant movement and blending in with the third class passengers, which shouldn't be too hard since you were as poor as most of them. If you just kept your mouth shut and ignored the people around you, you would be home free...in America!

                Yes, you were going to New York City to start a new life because you knew you couldn't find one here. You were never adopted by any of the couples who had come to visit the orphanage, and now that you were old enough to marry, the director of the orphanage told you that you had to leave.

                It was your second to last night at the orphanage when you had heard a janitor and a maid talking about the "unsinkable ship" that was departing for the Americas on April tenth.

                You took the conversation as a sign of some sorts, considering you had no destination in mind when you were leaving the orphanage. So, three days ago, with a small bag on your shoulder, you left your home, knowing that once you reached Southampton and boarded the Titanic, you were going to be a stowaway.

                You wished you could've bought a ticket. "Stowaway" left a bad taste in your mouth, but you didn't have time to find a job and save the money up. If you had known your new life was waiting for you an ocean away, you would have started saving years ago.

                You made your way farther and farther into the mess of people, avoiding bumping into people as best as you could.

                "Oh, e-excuse me!"

                "Oops!" you stopped, turning to look at the person you had bumped into. "I'm so sorry!"

                When he saw your face, his brown eyes lit up, "It's okay, Miss. It was my fault for being in the way. Are you a passenger on this ship?"

                "I am."

                "I wish you a safe journey, then," he said with a smile before disappearing into the sea of people. 

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {4} Your First Fight (Part 2)

Here it is, Lovelies! The Part 2 so many of you had requested! I'm still taking requests, so feel free to ask me! Hope you enjoy this one.

- Chrissy

Master List

Part 1

Harry: He Keeps Flirting.

                By the next morning, Harry had blown up your phone with messages and missed calls. You, however, were in no mood to talk to him at the moment.

                Last night was absolutely horrid. For some reason you didn't have the energy to make it upstairs once the crying had stopped. You were already a mess on the couch, so you figured you would just sleep down there. Needless to say, you would never sleep on your sofa again.

                But it wasn't the phone calls or the will to move on that woke you up the next morning. It was the damn sunlight creeping through your windows and sliding doors at the back of the house. Once the light had hit your face, you were turning over and stretching your legs. One look at the clock made you wince; it was 7 o'clock. You didn't need to be up this early.

                So you laid there a while until you heard your phone having a seizure in your purse. With a groan, you sat up and dug through your bag, which lay on the coffee table, for your phone. You knew who it was before looking at the screen, but when you saw Harry's name displayed, the pain in your chest was back again.

                Harry: Love, I'm so sorry! Can we please talk?

                Harry: I know I was a jerk yesterday, but I can't let this go.

                Harry: I can't let you go, Y/N.

                Harry: Please, Y/N. Please talk to me.

                Harry: I never slept last night. I just sat up, talking to Liam...

                Harry: He was the one who made me realize how stupid...

                Harry: Please call me, Babe.

                Harry: We really need to talk this through.

                Harry: I don't want this to be the end.

                Harry: I don't want there to be an end.

                You sat there, staring at those texts, and as you did, you realized that you couldn't stay mad at this lovable idiot for too long. But you would make him wait until lunchtime.

                With that, you turned off your phone and got up to start the day. Breakfast was a glass of milk with some french toast, a favorite of yours, and a bowl of fruit. Afterwards, you decided to go to the gym for a little while, just to keep your shape and to wake up a bit more.

                When you came home, a bit sweaty but wide awake, there was a vase of roses on your front doorstep. You turned the card over, not surprised at all when it was signed "Harry." The message was short but sweet, and it was in Harry's best cursive.

                Call me please, Love. I can't bear sitting here and not knowing if 'us' still exists.

                                                                                                                                - Harry

                You sighed and picked up the crystal vase. Maybe it wasn't right to keep him waiting until lunchtime. You were still angry, but you weren't cruel. Deciding that you would call him after your shower, you put the vase down on your kitchen table and headed upstairs.

                You had just gotten out of the shower and were slipping into your robe when the doorbell sounded through the house. Confused about who it could be at ten o'clock in the morning, you tied your sash tightly around your waist and ran down to get the door.

                "Harry?" you barely recognized him.

                "Hey, Y/N," he whispered sleepily with a small smile.

                His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep while his clothing--the clothes he had worn on your date last night--was disheveled and wrinkled from lying on it. His hair was a knotted mess and curlier than usual.

                "Sorry...I know I look hideous, but...I couldn't stop crying last night, Y/N," his eyes watered as he confessed. "At first, I was furious with you, but there was always the doubt. Maybe I had been wrong."

                You crossed your arms over your chest, showing him that he had your undivided attention.

                "So...I called Liam," he continued, sniffling. "I told him what had happened, and he told me that I was being too friendly with other women. He then went into detail, asking me how I would feel if you were giving another guy your cute smile. If you were biting your bottom lip and laughing at all his jokes. Damn, Y/N. I was jealous just thinking about it! And that's when I realized what I dick I had been to you."

                He was silent for a moment before whispering, "Then I wondered if I would ever see you smile at me again. I wondered if you would ever bite your lip when you were turned on or flattered by something I had said. I wondered if I would ever hear your beautiful laughter, and it all got to me."

                You knew he had finished when he had looked up at you, his emerald eyes pulling you in.

                "Harry," you leaned on the doorframe, looking down, "I was going to call you."

                "You were?" his whole face lit up.

                "Yes," you replied, nodding your head.

                "So this isn't...over?" he asked softly, a smile on his lips.

                You shook your head, chuckling, "No. This isn't over, Harry," you put your hand on his arm. "We just had our first fight."

                He was ecstatic, enveloping you in his arms, "You don't know how scared I was, Y/N. I thought I had lost you."

                "Harry, I'm still angry at you, and we need to talk this through," you said, resting your hands on his chest. "We'll need to make some changes, or else..."

                "Don't finish that sentence, Y/N," he pressed his forehead to yours. "Please don't. I'll try to stop flirting with other girls, but be prepared..."

                "Prepared?" you arched an eyebrow at him.

                He hummed happily, kissing your nose, "I need to flirt with someone...might as well be my girlfriend."

                You knew that this meant nonstop innuendos and suggestions, but frankly, as long as he was doing it to you and no one else, you didn't mind it so much.

Liam: You Think He's Cheating.

                You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning without limits in your empty bed. Liam's warm body wasn't there to stop you, to hold you still, and you missed him.

                He was downstairs, only a floor away, but he hadn't tried anything. He didn't come upstairs, asking to talk it through; he didn't try knocking on your door; he didn't even try texting you.

                Maybe it really was over.

                You couldn't believe it, though. You couldn't believe Liam James Payne, the sweetest boy you had ever had the pleasure of meeting, was capable of cheating.

                Unable to take much more alone, you called your best friend.

                "...Hello?"

                You had woken her up. You knew you would, but it still bothered you that you had.

                "Hi, F/N," your voice nearly cracked.

                "Y/N? Don't you know what--" she yawned, "time it is?"

                "I know...I'm sorry, but...Liam and I had a fight," you felt the tears forming in your eyes.

                "Aww...I'm sorry, Y/N. What happened?"

                "He cheated on me," you sniffled, bringing a hand up to your mouth to keep in the sob.

                "What?"

                You told her what had happened earlier that night. You told her about the texts and G/N. You told her about your suspicions, and how they had a "usual place." It had to be going on for some time now, and he had planned on meeting up with her again.

                "I'm so, so sorry, Y/N," she whispered. "I never would've dreamed that Liam would do such a thing..."

                "I-I know," you managed in between sobs. "It hurts so badly, F/N. I can't stand it."

                "I know, Girlie. I know."

                "I loved him, F/N, I thought he was the one."

                "You two were always so happy," she agreed.

                "I-I was willing to put up with it all for him. The f-fame. The hate. The rumors. All of it, but not t-this, F/N. I was never prepared for t-this."

                "No one ever is, Y/N, but at least now you know what kind of guy he is."

                "But I don't," you wiped your eyes. "I don't know who he is, F/N. He's so amazing, and he treats me like a queen. Then he goes and does this? I just can't believe it. This isn't Liam."

                "But it is, Y/N."

                You remained silent for a moment, taking in her words and letting them sink in. No. There was no way you were wrong.

                "Y/N...? You still there?"

                You took in a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears at bay for just a moment, "F/N...I think I should go, now. I'm really tired."

                You had thanked her and bid her good night before hanging up the phone, and once you did, there was a knock at your door.

                "Y/N?"

                You froze at the sound of his voice, your heart jumping into your throat from the sheer shock.

                "Y/N. Please open up," Liam said a little louder, knocking once again.

                You don't know what possessed you to do as he asked, but you soon found yourself opening the bedroom door to come face to face with a shirtless Liam.

                "What do you want?"

                "I can't sleep," he whispered, shaking his head. "Not without you."

                "Well, that's not really my problem, Liam," you began to close the door, but his hand shot out, keeping it open.

                "I came up here to talk to you, and I heard you talking to F/N," he whispered, looking down at you.

                You didn't know what you felt when he told you that. He had heard everything; your tears, your confession of love. You wanted to slap him, but at the same time, you wanted to hear what else he had to say.

                "G/N and I are only friends. We never did anything, I swear to you. The usual place? That's a restaurant we used to go to when we were kids," his eyes looked into yours as he said this, pleading with you to trust him. "If you don't believe me, I have a long list of people you can call and ask, but I'm not the kind of person to cheat on my girlfriend, as you told F/N."

                "Then why didn't you tell me about G/N?"

                "She moved away before I auditioned for the X Factor the second time. I haven't talked to her since before we started dating. I never thought I would have a reason to," he said, showing me his phone.

                He was telling the truth. The last text she had sent him before today's conversation was over a year ago, months before you had started dating him.

                "Y/N, I would never hurt you like that, and I was planning to tell you that I was meeting up with her, but you never gave me the chance. Also, I was pissed that you didn't trust me enough to stay away from my phone," he frowned.

                "I'm sorry, but your phone lit up with a text that--"

                "I know it was a misunderstanding," he said, turning off his cell, "but this wasn't just your fault. I should've told you who I was texting."

                You remained silent, looking at the floor.

                "Y/N? I don't know if this argument is resolved or not, but I would really like to stay with you, tonight, especially after what I heard...I almost broke the door down. God, the way you were crying. I wanted so badly to hold you."

                He lifted up your chin so his eyes met yours, "So can I?"

                How could you say no? This whole thing had just been a misinterpretation, and it almost tore you two apart.

                You managed a nod before you broke down, throwing yourself into his arms, "I'm so sorry, Liam, and to think I almost..."

                "Shh..." he rubbed your back, "It's not your fault, and I'm not going to leave you. I love you too much to do that."

                That was the first time he had ever said it, that he loved you, and you found yourself crying for a different reason.

                "I love you too."

Louis: He's Not Actively Helping in Wedding Planning.

                You had cried yourself to sleep that night, hugging your left hand to your heart. There was a ring on that hand that signified Louis' intentions, but the Louis that had given it to you no longer existed.

                He was gone.

                The next morning, you woke up to a pounding head. Slowly, you sat up in bed, looking at yourself in the mirror. The girl staring back at you looked sickly with red, puffy eyes and messy hair.

                Groaning, you threw back the layers that were covering you and sat at the edge of the bed, staring at your feet.

                Louis must have done one of three things last night. He either went to the guestroom to sleep, slept on the couch, or left to stay somewhere else.

                You didn't know which you would've preferred, but one thing was for sure, you didn't want to see him yet.

                With a deep sigh, you got up and walked into the bathroom. Emotionally, you had no chance of change right now, but you could always hide what was going on with a bit of care and make-up.

                Once you looked presentable, you went downstairs to have some breakfast and tea.

                Louis was nowhere in sight. You concluded he had left after your fight, considering he wasn't anywhere to be found.

                The kettle was on the stove, and your His & Hers cups were still out on the counter, untouched. You put on the kettle and opened the fridge to see what you could whip up when the doorbell rang.

                A small part of you hoped it was Louis, safe, sound, and ready to talk the whole fiasco over, but that hope was crushed once you opened the door to find his best mate, Harry.

                "Hey, Y/N," he gave you a small smile.

                "Louis isn't here."

                "I know that, Y/N," his smile disappeared. "I came to see you."

                "Me?" your eyes widened.

                "May I come in?"

                You stepped aside, letting him enter your flat before closing the door and walking passed him.

                "I was just about to make some tea," you told him. "Do you want some?"

                "I could go for a cup. Thanks," he said, walking into the living room.

                The kettle whistled, and you found yourself a little uncomfortable with giving Harry Louis' mug, even if you were pissed to high heavens with your fiancé.

                Eventually you put Louis' cup to the side and took out another one for Harry. After preparing the tea, you joined him, sitting in the armchair adjacent to the sofa.

                "So...why did you need to see me?"

                "Louis showed up at my flat last night, stinking of alcohol," he said, taking a tentative sip from the mug. "He had been crying too."

                You felt his eyes on you, but you didn't give a reaction to his words. On the inside, though, you were an emotional train wreck.

                "He told me what happened, Y/N. All of it, and he feels terrible."

                "Why isn't he here telling me that, then?" you asked.

                "He just fell asleep an hour ago, so I figured it would be best if I came over and began his explanation. Y/N, Louis wants to marry you. He adores you, but..."

                "Harry," you stopped him. "I'm sorry, and I think you are an awesome friend for trying to help Louis out. But I don't want an explanation or an apology from anyone but Louis."

                "Let me get started, then."

                Your eyes widened at the voice, and the rim of your cup froze on your lips.

                "Harry, I appreciate this, mate, but I think it's time I take over."

                You heard his boots on the hardwood floor, sounding closer and closer to you.

                Harry got up from the sofa and made his way to your front door, bidding you goodbye and good luck.

                "Y/N, Love," Louis' voice finally broke the silence, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him sit down in the spot Harry had vacated. "Y/N, look at me. Please."

                You leaned forward like a robot, placing your cooling tea on the table before twisting your body in the chair to face him.

                "I know what I did and said was inexcusable," he began, giving you a self-deprecating smile. "I was an arse hole."

                You didn't laugh at his intended bluntness.

                "But this arsehole wants to marry you. He always has, never stopped, and never will stop wanting to, but that's your choice to make," he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You may not believe what I'm about to say, but it's the truth. I'm scared to death, Y/N."

                "Why?" you whispered.

                "I want everything to be perfect for you, Y/N," he replied softly, looking up at you, "and I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to keep a wife happy. I don't know how marriage works, but I don't want to ruin it, ever. I want to be with you the rest of my life, but I don't want you to be miserable."

                "Louis."

                "I'm a celebrity, Y/N. I won't be home all the time to support you or protect you. People are going to be cruel to you; they already are. And you deserve so much more than that," he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the locks back.

                "Louis."

                "But I don't want you to leave me. I can't love anyone other than you, Y/N, and that's why I'm so worried about this wedding...I'm worried you'll marry me and realize what a huge mistake it was because, obviously, I am a total arse--"

                You shut him up by kissing him, molding your soft lips together, and when you pulled away, breathless, he just stared at you with nothing but pure, raw love.

                "I felt it on my cheek," he began to smile. "You're still wearing my ring."

                "Of course I am. I'm your future wife, after all, but talk to me before you decide to be an ass."

                Louis chuckled, "I will, Love."

Niall: He Doesn't Want to Meet Your Parents.

                No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't sleep, and no matter how hard you cried, you never felt like it was the last of your tears. They just kept coming, like waterfalls down your cheeks.

                Niall was in the next room, and the last thing you wanted was for him to hear you sobbing your heart out. You knew he would try to comfort you if he heard you crying; he hated it when you cried.

                But maybe he was beginning to be okay with it. He was willing to risk your feelings being hurt by lying to you three times.

                You buried your face into your pillow, trying to forget and praying for sleep.

                "Said I'd never leave her 'cause her hands fit like my T-shirt. Tongue-tied over three words, cursed."

                Damn him, his beautiful voice, and his guitar. You tried to block out the song, covering your ears with your hands.

                "Running over thoughts that make my feet hurt. Body's intertwined with her lips."

                You still heard him, and you fought back another wave of tears, keeping your eyes closed so tightly they hurt.

                "Now, she's feeling so low..." there was a pause before he started up again, "s-since she went solo. Hole in the middle of my heart like a Polo."

                You felt yourself at the edge. Even now, his voice could sing you to sleep; it didn't matter that you were mad.

                "But it's no joke to me," his voice cracked, "so can we do it all over again?"

                The guitar stopped, and an agonizing sound echoed through the rooms.

                "Fucking shit."

                Those pained words were the last sounds you heard before your world went dark.

                The next morning, you woke up around noon to the smell of bacon. For once, Niall was up before you. Good thing, too, because you were well-rested and ready to face him. You two needed to talk and figure out how this was going to be fixed because you weren't going to let this fight ruin your relationship.

                You got out of bed, not caring about your state of dress or whether or not your eyes still held evidence of your tears. You wanted to see what he had done to you because even though you wanted to fix things, you also wanted a genuine apology.

                Downstairs was silent except for the occasional hiss from the frying pan and sound of something being flipped over onto it. You quietly walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen, seeing Niall at the stove in the same get up he had on last night.

                "Morning," your voice was hoarse, barely audible.

                Judging by the way he froze, though, he had heard you.

                You ignored his shock, getting out a tea bag and mug from two of the cabinets near him. You felt his eyes on you, watching your every move as if you were a figment of his imagination.

                "We need to talk, Niall," you said, leaning over his arm to get the kettle.

                "No," he sighed, turning off the heat and dividing the eggs and bacon onto two plates. "I need to apologize and explain myself first."

                "Sounds good to me," you replied, pouring some of the hot water into your mug.

                Once you two were at the breakfast table, Niall cleared his throat and said, "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

                You looked up at him, noticing for the first time, the bags underneath his eyes.

                "I lied to you, and there's no excuse for that," he admitted. "I didn't know it would hurt you so badly because I didn't think when I decided to lie each time. I was so focused on getting out of the situation that I didn't worry about the consequences of my actions, but every time I was sure I got away with it...I felt terrible."

                You took a sip of tea, "You did?"

                "Yes!" he exclaimed, leaning on the table. "When I was out all day, pretending to be working, I was devastated. During those days I would bring home gifts and take you out every other night to apologize for not being able to go. I was actually apologizing for the lies."

                "If it killed you to lie to me, why did you keep doing it?" you whispered, putting your cup down.

                "My own fear, in the moment, of meeting your parents outweighed my judgment. I foolishly figured you would never find out, that there was no possibility of you leaving me, but...once the deed was done, I was so paranoid. I had trouble sleeping--"

                "Niall? I already forgave you for lying to me," you sighed, knowing you couldn't help it.

                Niall just meant too much to you, and you couldn't count the number of times you had told big lies to the people important to you. Lying was a natural thing to do, especially when it came to fear. People lied all the time, and it isn't worth breaking up over, as long as he tried to be truthful from now on.

                "Y-You did?" his blue eyes widened in happiness as a smile made its way onto his face.

                "Yes, I did," you smiled back, "but you have to promise me that the next time you feel that you need to lie to me about something, you'll talk to me first about whatever it is first. Okay?"

                He nodded, "I don't want to hurt you, Y/N. Believe me, that's the last thing I would ever want."

                "Good," you got up, taking the dirty plates with you. "Now, I better call my mother and tell her we aren't coming..."

                "No," came his voice, making you turn and look at him in shock. His serious eyes stared into yours. "We'll go. It's time I get over this fear of meeting your family. How bad can they be?"

                "Oh," you chuckled, putting your hand on his shoulder. "They can be pretty, bad."

                "Y/N, you aren't--"

                "But they'll love you," you whispered, kissing his cheek, "because I love you."

Zayn: The Hate Gets to You.

                You felt like an asshole. No. Lower than that. You felt like a piece of shit.

                You had ruined everything in your moment of weakness. You ruined your relationship, your happy life in London, and you hurt the man that meant more to you than anything.

                You were sitting at the airport, waiting for your plane when you figured all this out. You couldn't live without Zayn. Who were you kidding?

                And that's when you decided to go home, back to Zayn. You would blame your hot-cold actions on the fact that you were PMSing.

                You took out your phone and dialed Niall's number.

                "Hello?"

                "Hey, Niall. It's me," you said, walking through the crowds of people towards the exit.

                "Y/N? Where are you? Zayn just came over, saying you had left him."

                You stopped for a moment, picturing Zayn as Niall had described him, and it killed you to know that you were the one who had caused it.

                "Hey! Move it along!" some guy shouted, brushing against your shoulder.

                "Y/N? Who was that? Where are you?"

                "Calm down, Niall," you continued walking. "I'm leaving the airport now."

                "For where?"

                "For your place."

                Niall was silent for a moment, but you could feel his excitement through the phone, "Thank God, Y/N. He's a fucking mess without you."

                You sniffled, letting out a pained laugh, "Yeah. I'm the same when it comes to him."

                "Alright," Niall said. "I'll keep him here..."

                You nodded, "Thanks, Niall."

                "What are friends for?" he asked like doing this for you was nothing. "I'll see you soon, Y/N. Bye."

                "Bye, Niall," you hung up your phone, slipping it into your coat pocket as you made your way down to ground transportation.

                Once there, you waited in line for a cab. You used the wait time to think about how you would explain yourself. You couldn't exactly use your period for an excuse, but maybe if you explained that it was a combination of hormones and the hate...Maybe he would forgive you and take you back.

                While in the cab, you prayed that Zayn would see you, that he would see that you never wanted to hurt him even though you did. You hoped he would see just how much you loved him.

                "Here we are, Miss," the driver repeated the address to you.

                "Thanks," you took out your wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

                After you had paid him, he offered to carry your suitcase to the door, but you refused.

                "Thanks, but I'll be alright," you nodded at him with a smile.

                "Alright. Have a nice day, Miss."

                "You, too."

                You turned to look at Niall's flat. It was only a path away, but the pressure was still there, full force. You knew Niall would let you in, but you didn't know if Zayn would want to see you, much less talk to you.

                Sighing, you cleared your head of any negative thoughts before squaring your shoulders and striding up to the front door. You were going to knock, but the door opened before you could.

                "Thank God you're here," Niall whispered, grabbing your suitcase and pulling you into the house.

                "What's wrong, Niall?"

                "I've tried keeping his mind off it, but now..." he pointed to the couch, where Zayn sat, staring off into space. "He's been like that for ten minutes now."

                You moved silently towards him, wondering if he had noticed your presence. Once you were in his field of vision, you uttered a greeting, "Hey, Zayn."

                He blinked, shaking his head to look up at you, "Y/N? What are you doing here?"

                He didn't seem angry, but deep down, you knew he was. The surprise was just overriding it right now.

                "I went to the airport, but I couldn't bring myself to get on the plane," you got down on your knees before him, putting your hands into your lap.

                He nodded, taking in your form, "Why'd you come here?"

                "I needed to talk to you, Zayn," you whispered, looking down at your hands. "I called Niall, figuring you'd go to him first..."

                "You talked to her?"

                You looked up to see Zayn glaring at Niall.

                "Don't blame him," you put your hand on Zayn's knee. "He was just helping me."

                "To do what?" his harsh gaze was back to you.

                "To explain myself, Zayn," you met his gaze, not letting it intimidate you. "I...um...I let the hate get to me, as I told you earlier, but it wasn't just the hate I was getting."

                Zayn arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

                "My friends and family have been getting hate, too," your eyes were full of tears. "What was I supposed to do? They won't say a word, but I know they're hurting--"

                "I told you I would tweet something and take care of it, Y/N," he said softly.

                "And I told you it wouldn't work because I knew it wouldn't."

                "That doesn't explain why you left me."

                "I know, and I'm sorry," you bowed your head. "That was the biggest mistake of my life, trying to leave you, because, honestly, Zayn, I can't survive without you."

                He lifted your chin, "Then don't."

                You felt the tears rolling down your cheeks, but all you cared about was the sentence the man before you had just said. With a sob, you jumped into his arms, letting him cradle you in his lap.

                "I'm so sorry, Zayn," you cried, holding his head to your shoulder. "I'm so sorry I left. I just thought it would give all of us a break from the tweets and messages..."

                "I understand, Y/N, but," he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours, "we're in this together. Talk to me when it becomes too much. Let me be your safety net. Okay?"

                You gave him a slow nod before he pulled you into another embrace.

                "Hey, are you guys hungry? I'm thinking of ordering a pie...?"

                You and Zayn just threw your heads back and laughed.

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {4} Your First Fight

I really have to work on negative writing. These fights seem too dramatic, even though I tried to make them as realistic as possible (I've seen some where the boys hurt you, and I can't picture them ever hurting a soul.). I hope you like them anyway! Thanks for this request (requests are still open),and thank you for the support, Lovelies! I wouldn't be popping these out so quickly if it weren't for you.

- Chrissy

Master List

Part 2 

Harry: He Keeps Flirting.

                You were walking down the street with your boyfriend of a half a year, Harry Styles, when a few fans stopped to take pictures and get autographs.

                Now, you were used to this. You knew what dating a member of One Direction meant, and you had told yourself that you could handle it. For the most part, you were dealing with it very well. You had dealt with rumors at the beginning of your relationship, before Harry had publically made it clear in an interview that he was dating you.

                Once it was public, you dealt with the hate. Harry treated you well, and you were in love. You weren't going to leave him because there were people out there who didn't like you two together. You also made it a point to never complain to Harry, knowing that the last thing he needed to worry about was fan hate towards his girlfriend. You knew it would upset him greatly, considering his fans were everything to him.

                Since you had made it publically official, you had gone out of the house on dates quite a few times. A fan or five interrupting was a normal occurrence, and you didn't mind it one bit, especially when they acknowledged your existence as their idol's girlfriend. There had also been a few instances where they had asked for your autograph or to take a picture with you.

                These girls that had asked today, however, made it a point to ignore your presence, so you just waited by the shop windows and watched Harry work his charm.

                "Harry, can I have a kiss on the cheek for this one?"

                "Sure, Love, anything for you," Harry said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

                You were used to that, too, but it didn't mean it didn't hurt, especially since this girl practically looked like a model.

                "Thanks, Harry!" she smiled, throwing her arms around him. "Do you always walk around here?"

                "Occasionally," he nodded, his dimples showing on his cheek. "Do you come here often?"

                "Well, I could if you want me, too," she said, putting a hand on his chest.

                "Would you, now?" he chuckled. "I wouldn't mind seeing such a beautiful girl again."

                You rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses, grateful they were there to hide your annoyance. Harry was always a flirt; you had been subjected to it firsthand, but he still continued to be flirty towards other girls, even after you had become official.

                You knew it was his personality, a part of the man you loved, but it really made you feel insecure sometimes. And lately, he had been taking it a bit too far.

                "Bye, Harry!" the girl and her friends waved before turning to walk back down the street, talking excitedly about how she had gotten a kiss from the Harry Styles.

                "Sorry about that, Love," Harry said, coming over to you and kissing your cheek. "Shall we get going, then?"

                "It's your job, Harry," you smiled, taking his hand. "I understand. It's fine."

                "You're the best girlfriend, you know that?" he asked before pecking your cheek.

                But it wasn't fine.

                When he had dropped you off at your flat that night, you were nearly in tears. Harry had flirted with the waitress at the restaurant you were at, and, later on, he had been using some of his lines on the pretty cashier at the ice cream shop you had went to.

                Jealousy was an awful color to wear, but you couldn't take it anymore! Boyfriends aren't supposed flirt with every gorgeous girl they interact with as if they're single.

                You were at the door to your flat, and like after all of your dates, Harry began to kiss you, but you were too angry to get into it.

                Finally, noticing your lack of response, Harry pulled away, "What's wrong, Love?"

                You looked down at his hand that held yours, "Harry, are you sure we're in an exclusive relationship?"

                There was a pregnant, shocked silence before he answered, "Of course, Babe," he lifted your chin so he could look in your eyes. "Of course, we are. What would make you think otherwise?"

                "All those beautiful girls you were flirting with today," you murmured while tears spilled down your cheeks.

                "I wasn't flirting, Y/N."

                "Yes, you were, Harry Edward Styles. Don't you dare try to deny it," you were shouting now, losing yourself in the emotions that had been threatening to overflow for a long time.

                 "What's wrong with you, Y/N? I've never seen you act so..." he trailed off, looking away.

                "So...what?" you edged him on, putting your hands on your hips.

                "So jealous!" he threw his hands up.

                "Jealous? Harry, you never told any of these girls that you were in a relationship and advertised yourself as if you were single! Of course I'm going to feel jealous and insecure," you replied, turning to open your door.

                "I was not acting single!" Harry shouted, grabbing your arm.

                "Let go of me, Harry," you pulled your arm from his grasp, your eyes widening at him. "I need to be alone, now. So...just go home."

                "Fine," he said, turning away from you and walking down the path, away from your house.

  Liam: You Think He's Cheating.

                You were in the middle of watching a movie with your boyfriend of one year when you were interrupted by his phone.

                Liam removed his arm from around your waist and took his cell out. Once he saw who it was, his face lit up, and his hands immediately began texting.

                Now, you would've understood if the texting had stopped once Liam had told them he was spending time with his girlfriend, but it continued, one after the other. Why hadn't Liam told them he was busy?

                After fifteen minutes of him texting, you leaned forward and took the remote off the coffee table. You paused the movie and turned to look at Liam, who was still staring at his phone.

                "Liam, Baby?"

                "Yes, Love?" Liam looked over at you.

                "I don't mean to interrupt your conversation, but could you tell them you'll talk to them later?" you asked as politely as you could, not wanting to start a fight over something so silly.

                "Oh! I'm so sorry, Babe. I wasn't thinking."

                "It's okay," you kissed his cheek.

                "I told them that we would have to talk later because I'm spending time with my beautiful girlfriend," Liam told you with a smile before putting his phone on silent.

                "Thanks, Babe," you smiled, snuggling into his side.

                The rest of the movie went uninterrupted; well, except for a few...minor distractions. Okay, to be honest, by the time the movie had ended, you were on Liam's lap in an intense lip lock. His hands were on your hips, riding up your black nightie so that it barely covered your upper thighs.

                "Did you honestly think you could wear that nightie and get away with it without turning me on?" he whispered against your lips before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

                "You know what?" he asked, leaning down to press open-mouth kisses to your neck. "I think you wore it on purpose."

                You didn't answer him even though he was right.

                "So did you?" he asked before nipping the skin below your jaw.

                "Yes..." you moaned.

                He grinned against your skin, "You're too easy to read, Y/N."

                You scowled at him, hitting his chest playfully, "I am not!"

                "Don't even try," he pushed you down onto the couch and lowered himself over you, "to deny it."

                You pouted, looking down at him.

                He chuckled, "I like it when you pout. It makes me want to do this," he pressed his soft lips to yours.

                You don't know when it happened, but at some point, you had fallen asleep in that position. When you woke up, however, Liam's weight was gone. Wondering where he went, you got up into a sitting position and were just about to stand when you saw Liam's phone light up.

                G/N: I can't wait 2 c u!

                Who the hell was G/N? And why couldn't she wait to see Liam?

                Without thinking about how you promised yourself you would never be the girlfriend who scrolls through her boyfriend's texts, you picked up the phone and looked through their conversation.

                G/N: Hey, Liam!

                Liam: Omg, G/N! How r u?

                G/N: I'm fine. How r u?

                Liam: I'm amazing! What's up? Did u need something?

                G/N: No...well, I'm visiting for the next few weeks. I was hoping we could catch up.

                Liam: Sure! Where've u been since I last saw u?

                The conversation continued with explanations of both their lives since they last met. However, Liam conveniently didn't mention that he had a girlfriend until...

                Liam: I gtg. I'm in the middle of a date with my gf rn. I'll text u later.

                So she was the bitch he was talking to while you were supposed to be spending time together!

                You continued scrolling down until you saw that he had texted her again, while you were sleeping, no doubt.

                Liam: Sorry about that. Gf's asleep, so we can talk.

                G/N: Kk, but I was wondering if we could meet up. When r u free?

                Liam: I'm working sat, but we can hang afterwards? 6 @ the usual place?

                G/N: Kk! :)

                And then there was nothing from Liam. He must have left the room after that, but apparently the girl couldn't wait for him to reply, sending the text that prompted you to read the conversation. And you were glad you did.

                You heard the toilet flush and the sound of Liam's steps.

                "Hey, Babe, watcha lookin' at...?"

                He trailed off when he saw what was in your hands.

                "You're looking through my texts?" he growled, snatching the phone from your hands. "Why would you do such a thing, Y/N? Don't you trust me?"

                "After seeing those texts, no, I don't!" you shouted, getting up from the couch.

                "What texts?"

                "Your little conversation with G/N," you headed towards the stairs. "I knew you were a lot of things, Liam James Payne, but I never knew you were a cheater."

                "What?" he sounded shocked.

                "I'm going to bed, Liam," you told him, taking out a blanket and pillow from the hall closet and throwing it at him. "You're on the couch tonight, and I expect you gone in the morning."

                With that, you stormed upstairs while the tears finally decided to fall.

  Louis: He's Not Actively Helping in Wedding Planning.

                "So what are you thinking, Y/N? Periwinkle or Chartreuse. Or maybe Iris?" F/N asked.

                "Hmm..." you flipped through one of the many wedding magazines in front of you. "I don't know..."

                It had been a year since your boyfriend of 3 years asked you if you were ready to become Mrs. Tomlinson. Of course, you had agreed. How could you not? You were head over heels for him, and the way he proposed was just the icing on the cake.

                He had taken you to the Canary Islands, booking with one of the most luxurious hotels. However, when you got there, the bellboy had carried your luggage up to the Honeymoon suite. You were understandably confused, asking Louis, jokingly, if you had missed your wedding. He had chuckled while going down one knee, pulling out a little black box.

                It wasn't a romantic dinner on the beach, but you gave it points for originality.

                After you had embraced him, Louis had told you that this would be your suite the next time you came. All you could manage between the tears was a nod, and Louis accepted it before carrying you to your actual room.

                Now, it was crunch time. Your wedding was two months away, and you were still planning. You had no idea what you wanted, so you often asked Louis for help.

                "Louis? Periwinkle, Chartreuse, or Iris?"

                "Whatever you want, Babe."

                This was a typical response when you asked him about the wedding. At first, you had found it sweet that he wanted it to be your day, but it started to get frustrating. It was his day, too, and when he acted so passively towards it, you wondered if he even wanted a wedding...

                "What did he say?" your friend asked over the phone.

                "Nothing," you sighed.

                "I'm going to start the movie without you!" Louis shouted.

                Your friend had also started to ramble on, talking about floral arrangements.

                "Listen, F/N," you interrupted her. "I'm really sorry, but I can't anymore right now."

                "Okay. Take a break, Y/N," she replied. "You need it."

                "Thanks, F/N, for everything," you smiled, closing a magazine.

                "Hey, as maid of honor, it's my job. I'll talk to you later."

                "Bye," you hung up.

                "Finally," Louis chuckled, appearing next to you and pressing a kiss to your head. "Let's go watch that movie."

                "Okay," you said, letting him pull you over to the couch.

                The movie Louis had picked out was The Wedding Crashers, a movie you knew well, but you didn't mind watching again. You two cuddled on the couch, occasionally laughing your arses off, until the end.

                The movie reminded you of your own wedding. No, you weren't wondering if your wedding would be crashed. You were thinking about how Louis didn't seem to want to play an active role in planning it.

                "Louis?"

                "Yes, Love?"

                You shifted in his arms to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest, "Why don't you want to help me plan our wedding?"

                "That again, Y/N?" he sighed, leaning forward to get the remote. "What does it matter? Don't girls usually like to take over this sort of thing?"

                "Well, usually, but I don't," you replied, watching him turn the telly off.

                Louis sighed, "I just don't."

                "Don't what?" you asked, looking into his blue-green eyes.

                "I don't want to be a part of the planning," with those words, he got up from the couch, letting you slip off of him.

                "What?" your eyes widened. "Why not?"

                He shrugged while walking over to the kitchen, "It's not my thing, I guess, and I don't want to be bothered with it," he took out the kettle. "Do you want a cup?"

                "Please," you breathed, leaning over the back of the couch. "But why don't you want to be bothered? Louis, it's your wedding day, too."

                He rolled his eyes, "It's too much stress, Y/N, and I already have enough of that from my job."

                "I have a stressful job, too, Louis, and I'm planning our wedding," you whispered, looking down at the floor.

                "Then don't."

                You heard him close a cabinet and put down the cups, but your world seemed to be crashing down on you. You hoped he didn't mean what you thought he did...

                "What do you mean by 'don't,'" you said each word carefully, your voice shaking.

                Louis' back was all you could see when he gave you his answer, "Don't plan one if it's too stressful. We could just go and sign the papers. We don't need a party."

                "S-So you don't want to celebrate with our friends and family? You don't want to have our first dance together as husband and wife? You don't want to enjoy the one day when all the people we hold dear are gathered together for our joining?" your eyes watered.

                "Nope."

                "Don't you want to marry me, Louis Tomlinson?" you whispered as a tear trailed down your cheek.

                "Y/N--" he turned around to look at you.

                "No, Louis. I don't think you do," you wiped your cheeks. "Forget about my tea. I don't need it."

                And with that, you went upstairs, slamming the door to your shared bedroom and locking it.

                Niall: He Doesn't Want to Meet Your Parents.

                "I think he'll appreciate something familiar in a place that isn't."

                You smiled at your mother's thoughtfulness while adjusting the phone in between your cheek and shoulder, "That's sweet, Mom. I'll tell Niall."

                "Tell me what?"

                You turned around to see your boyfriend of nine months enter the room.

                "Hey, Sweetie," you welcomed him with a smile. "I was just on the phone to my mother. She's thinking of making a chicken pot pie when we visit. She said she wants you to feel at home."

                "Oh," he forced a smile. "That's nice."

                "What's wrong?"

                "Nothing. Is that lunch?"

                He looked at the sandwich you had been working on.

                "Yes, it is."

                "Honey?"

                "Oops! Sorry, Mom," you realized she was still on the phone.

                She chuckled, "I'll let you go. I can't wait to see you two! Love you!"

                "Love you, too. Bye."

                Once you hung up, Niall's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards him.

                You let him support you while pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Ready for lunch?"

                "Of course!" he replied. "It looks delicious."

                "Thanks," you grabbed two plates from the cabinet above you and put a sandwich on each.

                After lunch, you both sat at the table for a few moments, just looking at each other. A lazy smile graced Niall's lips as he slouched in his chair, relaxing.

                "I'm so excited for our trip," you smiled.

                Niall's face fell, "Yeah...about that..."

                You cocked your head to the side, and Niall sighed.

                "Management wants me to work next week. I can't take those days off to go and visit your family. I'm really sorry, Y/N."

                "But this is the third time they've done this!" you pushed your chair back angrily and picked up your plates.

                "I know, and I'm sorry, Y/N. I really am, but this is my job, you know? What can I do?" he watched you put the dishes in the sink and clear off the counter.

                "Well, I guess I'll just have to go by myself again," you sighed. "Mom's going to be so disappointed. She was really looking forward to meeting you."

                Niall looked away, "I'm sorry."

                "It's okay, Niall. I don't blame you," you gave him a soft smile. "I completely understand."

                It was later in the evening when the phone rang. You and Niall were getting ready for bed, and he was still in the bathroom, just out of the shower.

                "Could you get that, Y/N?"

                "Sure," you picked up the phone and put it to your ear. "Hello?"

                "Hey, Y/N!"

                It was Harry.

                "Oh, hello, Harry. Niall's in the bathroom, but he should be out in a moment," you told him while sitting down on your bed.

                "That's okay, Love. I'll wait," he replied.

                "So...how are you doing, Harry? How's Gemma?" you asked, realizing it had been a while since you had talked to Niall's best friend.

                "Gemma's doing fine, recovering from that nasty break up, but fine. As for me, I'm doing well, just a little tired. Can't wait for our break. What are you and Niall doing?"

                "Wait...you're all off next week?" you were confused. Niall had told you that management had changed their minds...

                "Yes, and thank God for it."

                "Niall told me that you had to work next week," you couldn't believe that Niall had lied.

                "We do? I was never informed of that, and neither were any of the other boys. They're all leaving on holiday," Harry replied, sounding genuinely put off by your words. "What did you have planned?"

                "We were supposed to go visit my parents."

                There was a long silence on the line before Harry let out a sigh, "Oh..."

                "What do you mean by 'oh?'" your stomach was in knots.

                "Has he used the same excuse before?"

                "Yes, but I don't see..."

                Then it clicked. Niall had been lying to you each time he had canceled. You didn't know why he did, but it angered you that he hadn't been honest. It was clear he did not want to visit your parents, but he didn't have to lie about it and disappoint not only you, but your family as well, three times.

                "I have to go, Harry," you tried not to sound furious. "I'll tell him to call you back."

                "Wait, Y/N--"

                "Bye, Harry," you hung up on him just as the bathroom door opened.

                Niall stepped out in his sweatpants, drying his hair with a towel, "Why'd you hang up, Princess?"

                "Niall?"

                "What's wrong?" he asked, approaching his side of the bed.

                You snapped your head in his direction, "Why did you lie to me about management wanting you to work next week?"

                His jaw dropped at your question, and it moved once or twice, trying to make words but only managing weird sounds.

                "Not only did you do it this time, but the past two times as well," you crossed your arms over your chest. "Care to explain?"

                "I-I..."

                "I? Is that all you've got to say, Niall?" you growled while getting up from the bed. "If you didn't want to meet my parents, you could've just told me."

                You walked passed him and opened the door to the hall, murmuring, "You didn't have to lie."

                Zayn: The Hate Gets to You.

                "@Y/T/N r u sure u need that donut?"

                That was comment on a picture of your Dunkin Donuts breakfast, a breakfast you didn't have often because of how unhealthy it was.

                "@Y/T/N what's wrong with ur nose? Did u break it or something?"

                That was a comment on a picture your boyfriend of five months, Zayn, had taken of your profile. You were born with a crooked nose and said no to plastic surgery.

                "@Y/T/N u do kno I'm sleeping with Zayn, right?"

                That was a comment on a tweet you had made about how amazing you thought your boyfriend was.

                "@Y/T/N y don't u go kill urself? Zayn is 2 good 4 u anyway."

                That was tweeted directly to you, among thousands of other tweets similar to it since you and Zayn had become publically official two months ago.

                You knew it was just the product of jealousy, something you would feel, too, if the man of your dreams was happy with some other girl, but you would never take it this far. The tweets seemed endless, and the hate wasn't just on your Twitter. Your Facebook, e-mail, Tumblr, Instagram, Youtube, and Vine accounts had been littered with the good and the bad messages.

                It was too much sometimes, and you found yourself scrolling through it, lost in it. Message after message. Tweet after Tweet. There were Youtube videos criticizing you, and articles in magazines helped spread rumors like wildfire.

                And it didn't end there. Your family and friends got hate, too. It was hard to look at, scrolling down your close friend's twitter to see insults and threats. It killed you inside, and it was for their sake that you wouldn't let it go on like this.

                Today would be the beginning of the end. You didn't expect the hate to disappear quickly or all together, but you expected it to lessen dramatically, especially for your dear ones and Zayn, the love of your life.

                Yes, you loved Zayn, but you hadn't exactly told him those three little words yet. And you probably never will.

                You pulled out the suitcase you kept under your bed and started filling it with your clothes. There was no way you could take everything with you, but you would take just the essentials until you returned to sell the place.

                If you were going to do this, you had to get as far away from Zayn as possible, even though you didn't want to.

                You had already booked the ticket, and within the next twenty-four hours, you would be back at your parents' house, in your old room. It would be nice to see them, considering you didn't see them too often since you moved.

                 "Y/N?"

                Crap. He wasn't supposed to be here until later tonight!

                "Y/N? Where are you?" Zayn's voice came from downstairs.

                You weren't ready to do this. You weren't ready to break your heart or his.

                "Are you up there, Y/N?"

                "Y-Yes! I'm in my bedroom!" you answered, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

                He would know the moment he walked into your room. The suitcase would tell him all, but maybe it would be easier for both of you this way.

                You heard him on the stairs and then down the hall until he was in the doorway.

                "Sorry, I'm a bit early, but I couldn't wait..." he trailed off when he saw you on the floor, kneeling over the carry on.

                Then there was a silence so thick you could cut it with a knife.

                "Where are you going?" he looked from the packed clothes to your face.

                "Home, Zayn," you slowly stood up.

                "This is home, Y/N."

                His face was so painful to look at when he was holding back tears. You had seen him this way only once before, when a close friend of his from high school had died.

                "My old home, Zayn," you breathed, trying to keep your emotions bottled.

                "Why are you doing this?" his voice rose higher with each word. "You can't do this."

                "I have to do this, Zayn, and I will," you bent down to close the suitcase.

                "I won't let you," he walked over to you, taking your wrist and effectively stopping you from zipping up the suitcase, "unless you tell me what I did wrong and how I can make it right."

                "Zayn..."

                "Tell me, please."

                You let out a sigh, "Zayn, it's the hate. I can't handle it."

                "Then I'll tell them to stop. I'll tweet it a thousand times if I have to."

                "They won't stop," you shook your head.

                "They will if I tell them--"

                "They won't, Zayn!" you shouted, silencing him.

                 "I-I think you should go," you whispered once you had gained control of your emotions.

                "Fine!" he snarled, glaring at you. "I don't need this or you. If you can't handle the hate, then...there was no way this was going to work out, anyway"

                You just listened in silence.

                "I get just as much hate as you do, and I was willing to fight for us, but now I'm seeing maybe you aren't worth my time. Goodbye, Y/N."

                And just like that, he was out of your life, but still in your broken heart.

[chrissysmith257]

Preference {2} You're His Date, but You're Just Friends

Thank you to all the people who read my first preference and for all those notes! I love you so much! And thank you to all my new followers! I hope you enjoy this one, Lovelies. And I am taking requests, so please ask away, Lovelies!

- Chrissy

Master List

Part 2

Harry: At a party.

                The sound of music coming from the celebrity's home could be heard from the street as Harry drove up to the door.

                Harry pulled up to the curb and parked the car. He got out and came around the car, handing the keys to the valet before opening the passenger door.

                "Shall we go in?" Harry asked with a smile, brushing his warm hand against yours.

                Harry had asked you to come to the party with him, seeing as he needed to bring a date and was currently single. He had asked you apologetically, as if he were inconveniencing you in some way, and he even bought the outfit, from dress to accessories, you were currently wearing to 'make it up to you.'

                You had told him, multiple times, that it was no trouble at all; you were happy to be his date. You had had feelings for Harry since you first met him, so this was a once in a lifetime chance since you were pretty sure your romantic feelings were one-sided.

                But for tonight, you were his date, and you couldn't be more happy.

                You let him intertwine his fingers with yours, smiling up at him, "If you want to."

                He chuckled, "Quite the doting date I have," he winked at you. "I'm a lucky man."

                You blushed, hitting his arm playfully, "Shut up, Harry."

                He let out a laugh before leading you through the door and into the loud brownstone.

                For most of the night, Harry was by your side, introducing you to people and dancing with you. He didn't leave your side until he went to get you a drink.

                While he was gone, you waited for him in the corner of the room, not feeling too comfortable in a house full of celebrities. Smoke from cigarettes and other items filled the air, and some people were drunk, stumbling around and sprouting nonsense.

                "Excuse me," someone tapped your shoulder.

                You turned to find yourself face to face with a boy about your age. He had a cigarette in his other hand, and his blue eyes were...off...

                "Can I help you?" you asked, trying to conceal any signs of fear.

                He took a puff of his fag before replying, "How about a dance?"

                "I'm sorry, but I'm with someone--"

                You were interrupted by a firm grasp on your wrist. You saw the dirty fingers curled around your arm, and a wave of panic crashed over your body.

                "You aren't saying no to me, are you?" he asked, leaning down so that your faces were inches apart.

                "I-I...uh..."

                "I didn't think so," he smirked, throwing his cigarette behind him as he led you towards the dance floor, but you weren't going so easily. On your way there, you jammed your heel into his foot.

                "Fuck!" he cried, his face contorted in pain. "You'll pay for that, Bitch."

                He raised his free to strike you when a voice shouted:

                "Excuse me, but that's my girl you're about to hurt!"

                Within an instant, the creep's hand was off of you, and Harry's arms were around you, holding you back against his chest and away from the jerk.

                Not wanting to get into a fight with someone bigger than him, the boy gave him a scowl walked off. Harry turned you around in his arms, holding you tightly.

                "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered in your ear.

                "It's okay, Harry," you replied with a smile, "Thanks for saving me."

                He slipped his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. Leaning down, he whispered, "Let's go."

                "But, Harry, management told you that you had to be here..." you were shocked by his sudden want to leave.

                "I showed my face," he shrugged with a grin. "I think that's enough."

                He started leading you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, towards the door, "Besides...you're my date, and I ought to take you somewhere that's actually worthy of your angelic presence."

  Liam: At the Brit Awards.

                The sounds of screaming fans and shouting reporters filled your ears as your limo pulled up to the carpet. Flashes went off everywhere as celebrities made their way down the carpet and towards the arena.

                "You ready?" Liam asked, squeezing your hand.

                You had been preparing for this day for weeks now, since he had asked you to be his date to the Brit Awards. You had agreed for two reasons. One, he was your best friend, and two, this was probably the only date you would ever go on with Liam, considering he only thought of you as a friend.

                "As I'll ever be," you responded as the door to Liam's side opened.

                He got out of the limousine first, ignoring the calls he received from the crowd. He then turned to you and helped you out. Once you were on the carpet, you stood next to him, smiling proudly as the cameras went off.

                Liam's hand was at the small of your back, gently propelling you forward and calming your nerves.

                "Liam! Over here, Liam!"

                "Who is she, Liam? A new girlfriend?"

                Liam didn't answer. He just smiled and waved with his free hand as you two made your way down the carpet.

                The arena was decorated beautifully, and you found yourself swept away with it all. This would truly be a night you would never forget.

                "Our seats are this way, Y/N" Liam said, taking your hand in his as he led you down one of the aisles.

                In the distance, you could see Harry and Niall, sitting down by themselves.

                "Where are their dates?" you asked, looking up at Liam.

                "Uh..." Liam stopped for a moment after hearing your question.

                "Didn't they have to bring dates, too?"

                Liam let out a sigh, "Well, the truth is..."

                "Liam!" Louis shouted from behind him, causing the both of you to turn. "Y/N!"

                Immediately, you were both in a bear hug, being squeezed to death. Over Louis' shoulder, you could see Eleanor, Perrie, and Zayn making their way down.

                "You both look splendid!" Louis chuckled, stepping back from the hug

                "Thank you, Louis! You're looking very handsome yourself," you replied before going to greet the others.

                The Brit Awards went by in a flash, and by the end, you were definitely star struck. You knew One Direction was famous, but until you were here, watching them with other celebrities, you only saw them as normal lads. Your best friends were winning awards and performing on television, in front of millions of people who knew their names. It was astonishing to you, even if you had been a mere fan, looking up at them two years ago...

                Though the awards went by fast, it seemed like forever before you were back in the limo, sitting beside Liam.

                "Did you have fun, Y/N?" Liam asked, still holding your hand in his.

                You nodded, "It was amazing, and it finally struck me how famous you really are."

                He chuckled, "I'm glad you had a good time."

                The conversation had died after that, and you found yourself remembering that Harry and Niall had not brought dates. Liam had told you that they had to, that management told them to, but Harry and Niall didn't.

                "Liam?"

                "Hmm?"

                "What were you saying before about Harry's and Niall's lack of dates?" you inquired, curiosity painting your features.

                Liam suddenly stiffened, "Well..." he sighed, turning to face you completely, "I haven't...exactly been...honest with you, Y/N."

                "Oh?" you raised your brows, turning to face him too.

                He took your other hand in his.

                "We didn't have to bring dates tonight..."

                "Then why ask me to be your date if you didn't need one in the first place?" you asked, trying to understand. "I'm not complaining; I had a good time, but why bring me, Liam?"

                He looked up at you this time, "Well...I thought this would be the farthest I would ever get with you."

                Louis: At a wedding.

                You entered the large, decorated hall, hand in hand with your best friend. Together, you stopped to take it all in. The lights, the flowers, and the tables were all beautifully arranged for the party that was going to take place soon.

                "Wow," you looked about the room.

                "Exactly," Louis replied with a chuckle.

                You tugged on his arm, pulling him forward with you, "Come on, we can admire everything else from our table."

                "Sounds good to me," he let you lead him to Table 5.

                Today, a close family friend of Louis' was getting married to the love of his life, and Louis, needing a date, asked you if you would like to come with him for the weekend. Of course, you had agreed. Who could resist a weekend in Australia with their crush? Yes, you had a crush on Louis, but there was no way the feelings were mutual.

                "There you are, Louis!" a woman at your table stood up and ran around it, her arms stretched open.

                "Hello, Mum," he grinned, letting go of your hand to hug her.

                "It's so good to see you!" she said, squeezing him tightly.

                "I missed you, too," he replied, pulling back to kiss her cheek.

                "And who is this?" she said, looking over his shoulder at you.

                Louis unwrapped his arm from around her and held out his hand to you. You took it as he explained, "This is my amazingly gorgeous friend, Y/N."

                "Hello, Y/N," she smiled. "I'm Louis' mum, Joahannah."

                "It's very nice to meet you," you nodded with a smile.

                "Well," she said, looking from you to Louis. "Let's get you two seated."

                It wasn't long before the bridal party was announced followed by the bride and groom. They all sat at the head table, and after the speeches, the DJ started up the music for the couple's first dance.

                "They look so happy," you whispered, grinning.

                "They really do," Louis replied, his warm breath on your ear.

                "Do you think I'll be happy like that someday?" you wish you had stopped the words before they had come out of your mouth. You sounded so insecure.

                Louis' hand found yours under the table, "I don't think, love. I know."

                You turned to look at him, giving him a smile, "Thanks, Louis."

                "Anything for you, Y/N," his grin widened.

                After the first dance, other people moved to the dance floor, including yourself and Louis. Dinner was served as well, coming out in three courses, and the cake was heavenly. By the end of the night, you were stuff, tired, and aching for the soft mattress in your hotel room.

                "Bye, Mum," Louis kissed Joahannah's cheek.

                "Be good, now," she told him with a stern finger.

                "Aren't I always?" he smirked.

                She smiled and shook her head at him before turning to look at you, "Take care of him for me, Y/N."

                "Of course," you grinned.

                "She takes very good care of me, Mum," Louis interjected, making you blush as red as the roses that decorated the room.

                "Louis!"

                Joahannah just continued to shake her head at him, "What am I going to do with you?"

                "Love me?" he smirked.

                "I already do that," she retorted. "Bye, you two. Have a good night."

                "You, too!" you exclaimed as Louis led you out of the reception hall and towards the elevators.

                While waiting, you looked up at your best friend, "I like your family. They're really nice."

                Louis' whole face lit up at your compliment, "I'm glad you think so."

                The elevator rang, telling you it had arrived before the doors slid open.

                "You know, what you said about my family probably made my day," Louis suddenly said as you walked onto the elevator.

                "Why's that?"

                He smiled at you, brushing his hand against yours before taking it in his own, "Because I was hoping I could introduce you to them as more than a friend someday..."

  Niall: At his birthday party.

                You had to wonder if you just hated yourself or if you were just plain stupid.

                Why the sudden hate? Well, you agreed to be your best friend's date to his own birthday party.

                You didn't know why you had agreed. Maybe it was because you wanted to be Niall's date, not his best friend, for once in your life.

                You let out a sigh, finally content with your appearance as you turned around in front of your mirror.

                "Y/N," Harry opened your door slightly, peeking his head in. "We're here to take you to your man..."

                And of course, Niall's best friends knew of your little crush on him.

                "I'll be right there," you replied.

                "Alright, love," he said. "We're downstairs."

                After grabbing the present you had prepared and your clutch, you made your way downstairs.

                As you entered the small foyer by your front door, woof whistles and cat calls filled the air. All four of Niall's band mates stood there, dressed for the club, with smug looks on their faces.

                This had been all their idea, and you hated them for it.

                "You look gorgeous, Y/N," Liam said, opening the door to his car for you.

                "Yeah, you really do," Louis agreed. "Niall won't know what hit him."

                When you got to the club, you were surrounded by Niall's friends and family. None of them knew of your current role, and you wanted it to stay that way. The last thing you needed was the pressure to impress them.

                The birthday boy finally arrived, swaggering in and giving hugs to all of his guests. You stayed back, watching him with a smile on your face, until you felt Zayn and Louis dragging you up to him.

                Not having much time to escape or protest at all, you were practically thrown onto the Irishman.

                "Whoa! Y/N?" Niall's eyes went up and down your form. "You look amazing!"

                "Thanks, Niall," you blushed, realizing you were still in his arms.

                "Happy birthday, Niall!" Louis exclaimed. "We hope you like your present."

                "We had her specially wrapped up, just for you," Harry chuckled.

                "Very funny, lads," Niall chuckled, removing one of his hands from your arms to wrap around your waist. He looked at you with his beautiful blue eyes. "Would you like to dance?"

                You nodded, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

                "Happy birthday, Niall," you said over the music as you moved your body to the beat.

                "What, Princess?" he put a hand on the small of your back, pushing you up against him.

                "Happy birthday, Niall!" you shouted.

                He beamed, "Thanks, Y/N. This has probably been one of the best so far."

                "I'm glad!" you smiled. "I got you a present, but I left it in Liam's car. We figured you'd be partying too hard to worry about all the presents and taking them home."

                "Oh...well, you didn't have to get me anything, Y/N."

                "What do you mean?" you furrowed your brows. "It's your birthday!"

                "I know, but having you as my date is gift enough," he replied just as the song ended.

                "This song was requested by a group of guys for all the couples in the room," the DJ announced. "This is for all you lovebirds."

                A slow song started to play, and you were about to go sit down when Niall grabbed your hand.

                "Where you going?"

                "To sit..."

                "Oh...well...uh," he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I was kinda hoping you'd dance with me..."

                Your eyes widened at the request, but you were soon wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer together.

                Both his hands moved down to your waist, holding you to him as you both swayed.

                Towards the end of the song, your head was resting on his shoulder, and you could feel his warm breath against your collar.

                "You're, by far, the best birthday present I've ever received, Y/N."

  Zayn: At an engagement party.

                You opened the front door to see Zayn leaning on his car, his eyes looking down at the phone in his hands. You feared you were going to make him late to his friend's engagement party, and that was not something you do when you want someone to like you.

                "I'm so sorry, Zayn," you frowned when you came up to him. "I didn't mean to make you wait."

                He looked up at you, his eyes widening as he took you in.

                "Zayn...is something wrong?" you asked, hoping the blush on your cheeks wasn't obvious.

                "No...Everything is perfect," he said, somewhat in a daze.

                You frowned, "Zayn? Are you okay? You just keep staring at me..."

                That seemed to snap him out of it, "Oh....sorry! You just look...amazing."

                His compliment turned your cheeks red, "Thanks, Zayn. I just hope we're not late."

                "We won't be late," he assured you, opening the door and helping you into the passenger seat.

                 And you weren't. When you arrived at the restaurant, you found that you two were among the first people there. The bride and groom had yet to arrive, and their families were still absent, despite being the ones who organized the party.

                Zayn took your hand and led you over to your assigned table, "See? We weren't late."

              �� "I know," you sighed with a lopsided smile. "I'm just really nervous."

                "Why?" he asked as he pulled out the chair for you.

                "I just..." you sighed, sitting down in the chair, "I just really want your friends to like me, you know?"

                Zayn chuckled, sitting next to you and taking your hand in his again, "They're going to love you."

                "It's good to see you, Zayn."

                You both turned around in your chairs to be face to face with a short, portly man in a tux.

                "Hey, Antonio," Zayn grinned, shaking the man's hand as he got up from his chair. "It's been a long time."

                You stood up next to Zayn, knowing it was rude to sit when being greeted, and watched the exchange.

                "Y/N," Zayn turned to you, wrapping his free arm around your waist, "this is Antonio. He's my friend's father."

                In other words, he was father of the groom.

                "It's nice to meet you, Antonio," you extended your hand.

                He took it in his enormous one, leaning down to press a kiss to it.

                "The pleasure is all mine," Antonio smiled. "I'm glad Zayn finally found someone he loves."

                Loves? You felt your face turn completely pink.

                "Antonio," Zayn looked shocked. "I'm not some heartbreaker that goes around with different girls."

                Why wasn't Zayn denying it? Didn't he know it would create a misunderstanding? Didn't he know what he was doing to your heart?

                Antonio let out a booming laugh, "I'm sorry, Zayn. It was just a joke."

                "I know, but I don't want you scaring off Y/N," Zayn said, pulling you closer to his side.

                "Antonio! Your wife is on the phone!"

                "Duty calls," he chuckled. "I hope you enjoy the party."

                "Thank you," you both said, waiting a bit before sitting down.

                The party was fun. There wasn't any dancing, but it was nice to mingle with Zayn's friends. You heard many funny and embarrassing stories about your date, to his dismay, and there were several instances where he had to pull you away, saying he was thirsty or hungry.

                It was late by the time you two got back to your house, nearly passed one in the morning. Knowing that it was dangerous for Zayn to drive home at this time, you offered to let him stay the night in your guest room.

                "Are you trying to seduce me, Y/N?" he smirked when you suggested it, pulling you close to him.

                "N-No," you suddenly felt hot. "Are you drunk, Zayn?"

                "Maybe a little," he whispered into your neck. "Or maybe I'm just wishfully thinking. Maybe I'm just that in love with you."