One Direction and 5 Seconds of Summer Preferences

1D Punk: First Fight

Harry: “Pull over,” you demand, Harry scoffs, continuing down the road and you’re seething. “I said, pull over!” You shout but Harry cuts you off with an “I know,” like he doesn’t care. “You’re such an asshole,” you cry, sinking down in your seat while crossing your arms over your chest. “Stop being a baby,” Harry snaps, fingers tightening over the steering wheel beneath them and you sniff. “You’re so, mean” you cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks against your will and Harry laughs at your weakness. “I’m sorry that I don’t take too kindly to my woman acting like a striper,” Harry seethes, taking a left at the light to head home and you smack him.

“I’m driving,” Harry shouts, ducking as you pull yourself to your knees to hit him again and again and again. “Fine, fucking walk!” Harry shakes, pulling to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty street. He reaches across you and flings the door open before he’s unbuckling you and pushing you from the car. “Fuck you Harry,” you cry, stumbling against the curb in your sky-high black stilettos while tugging the black bodycon Harry had begged you to wear back down your thighs. The dress was more trouble than it was worth and it wasn’t entirely your fault that you had gotten hammered and wanted to dance; Harry stayed in his seat at the booth of the VIP lounge, so you took your hot outfit to the dance floor. It also wasn’t entirely your fault that guys thought you looked amazing and were more than willing to dance with you when your boyfriend wasn’t. Harry rolls his eyes at your comment before he speeds off, slamming on the brakes so the car door slams shut before he continues down the road leaving you alone in the middle of the street. “Can you pick me up?” you cry into the phone before plopping down on the curb and wait.

A shiny black Mercedes pulls up and Ed Sheeran jumps out of the driver’s side to help you up. He gives you a sad smile and you notice that Louis Tomlinson is in the car and if you weren’t mortified before, the fact that Man U’s high profile owner has to see you in such a state is enough to make you want to die of embarrassment. Instead, the football owner just shrugs out of his jacket so you can cover up and leaves it at that. You cry the whole way back to your apartment and Ed is helpless to help ease your pain at the blowout fight between you and Harry.

“He called me a stripper,” you say quietly once Ed’s helped you from the car and walked you to the front door of your building. Louis is seated in the car, staring straight ahead to give you and the ginger musician a few private moments. “He didn’t mean it love, you know how he gets when you dress like a ten,” Ed tries to defend and you scoff through your tears. “He begged me to wear this dress and he called me a stripper. He wouldn’t even dance with me and the guy was gay!”

You mumble and Ed pulls you into his chest for a comforting hug. Neither of you notice the black Land Rover down the street, Harry seated behind the wheel to assure you had made it home because no matter how made he was, leaving you in the middle of the street was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

Liam: “And I’m just saying, Liam, that if that slut doesn’t keep her hands off you I’ll end her life, Harry Potter style,” you threaten, angrily tossing your dirty clothes into the washing machine of Liam’s apartment and he sighs. “She’s harmless and lonely, her husband left her and she has to raise the kids alone. It doesn’t mean anything, she can flirt all she wants to but I still come home to you, don’t I?” Liam asks with a disapproving glare at your insensitivity to the Jillian’s loneliness. “What do you do all day before coming home to me?”

You demand, picking up the laundry basket and set it against you hip as you stare him down. “You’re fuckin kidding me?” Liam demands with a scoff, standing to his full height and your jaw sets at the movement. “Clearly, I fuck Jillian then come here and fuck you,” Liam says dryly, walking around you to end the conversation but you’re not done with him. “I bet you do, I bet you just want to bend her over one of your drum sets and fuck her,” you accuse and Liam turns around and has your wrist in a vice grip so quickly, you stumble back and fall against him. “Don’t you ever fucking accuse me of cheating or wanting to cheat! I would never, ever do that to you,” he seethes, nostrils flaring in anger and for a moment you reconsider starting this fight.