One Direction #Imagine Collection #2

The imagine collections are back. The imagine collections are back.! Okay, everyone. Get ready for more requested imagines! Same rules. I will try to update one imagine per day. No dirty imagine requests. If you request a dirty one, your request will be deleted. Sorry guys, I'm just horrible at writing dirty imagines. So request clean, sweet, adorable ones!


8. After a Fight

(Requested by sophieelovesfood:) )  [credit for this goes to shannon]


You open your eyes, the first thing you see is an empty bed, the sheets neatly done. The pillowsnever touched. You bit your lip, remembering last night and it's events.

Louis had just gotten back from the bar, the third time this week in a row for that matter. The boys had been calling and nagging you, leaving the weight on you to help him to stop. Because they needed him as serious and sober as they could get him in the mornings for meet and greets and days at the studio. Because when Louis' hungover he doesn't think straight and gets very grouchy. So you decided you'd make him dinner last night, for when he got back, and would sit him down and try to tell him to keep things still with drinking for awhile, and to focus on his job, and his mates. Hoping to click in his brain that yes, he definitely needs to stop. But when he came back, stumbling and slurring his words, you set him down and tried to feed him, but that's where it all went downhill.

"What the hell! You're not my mum, Sophie. I don't need you to make me a dinner and frickin' straightening me out!" he snapped, pushing the dining table into your stomach as he sat back up from his seat.

Your eyes glossed over with frustration and hurt. But nothing hurt worse than the words that followed.

"I need you either in my bed, or out the door. Understand, Sophie?" he slurred your name as he tried to shout it.

But you stood up. Slowly making your way upstairs, not wanting to fight with him while he's drunk. You quickly decided so it wouldn't get ugly you'd talk to him when he had gradually sobered up in the morning.

Which was what you want to do now. So you get out of bed, straighten your short bed shorts and one of Louis' t-shirts before pulling your hair up and grabbing your glasses, not wanting to bother with contacts. You slip from your room, your bare feet padding across the cool hard wood, before descending the stairs into your living room. There lays Louis, sprawled out and hanging off your couch. You frown, and you want to start crying again as his words ring through your mind.

"I need you either in my bed, or out the door. Understand, Sophie?"

You frown to the wall, remembering hearing something from a friend.

"People say stuff they are too afraid to say aloud when they are drunk."

But does that mean this whole time you were just some love toy? Here for his entertainment only? You grow angry quickly, wanting an answer more than the rational talk. You storm over to the couch, take his arm, and pull him off the couch. You step back as he scrambles up at his sudden fall, looking at you with an angry expression.

"What the hell was that for?!" Louis yells.

You cross your arms, squinting your eyes at him.

"For calling me a whore last night, when all I was trying to do was help you!" you holler as he scoffs.

"What the -- you're talking bull crap. I never once called you a whore," he reasons, giving you a nasty look.

Then, he pulls his shirt off before tossing it to the side. He walks past you and up the stairs, but you stop him, making him bum into your body. He reached his hands out to steady, pulling you against his bare chest.

"Yes you did," you whisper, looking at his tan skin. "You said, and I quote,'I want either you in my bed or out the door.' "

Your throat cracks as you feel tears and sobs well up in it. Wow, emotional much? His expression softens, and he lays his hands on your back, fingers spread wide, lightly digging into your flesh.

"No, I--" he tries to deny it, but you start crying, and he instantly kisses your tears away, rubbing his nose up your jawline, kissing your closed eyes.


After this day, or this moment, actually, Louis changes. He becomes less drunk every day. He drinks less. To be honest, only at parties does he come home drunk. And when he is drunk, he isn't complicated the way he was before.

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