Harry: You can feel your mother's glare at your back, the hard glare sending shivers down your spine. Harry's at your side, beer bottle in hand, as he converses with your friend's husband and you can tell he feels more at home this time around. You're back in Manhattan for your sorority sisters wedding and while Harry had been reluctant to join, your pout had made him sigh before he rearranged his schedule. The kisses he'd received in thanks were enough to tell him he'd made the right decision. "I hope you aren't attached to that boy," you hear your mother tut, her perfectly manicured nails entering your line of vision as she pulls the towel from your hands and tosses it into the bathroom sink. "And why not mother?" You question while resisting the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes at her remark. "Have you really become that stupid? He is... deplorable, and the fact that you brought him here with you is unacceptable!" She screeches, eyes wide and angry and this was exactly what you had expected. "He is more than capable of taking care of me mother. The tattoo's are just ink on his skin," you try to defend, attempting to sidestep her but she pushes you back into the sink. "I will not allow you to degrade this family! Your father and I have worked hard to be at the top of the social ladder and this, boy will not ruin the life we planned for you! You will stop this ridiculous game you are playing, you are too old for rebelling," she hisses, long nail pointing in your face and you feel tears welling in your eyes. "You're being ridiculous! He's my boyfriend and I love him! He treats me better than any boyfriend has ever treated me. I'm not ending things just because you don't approve!" you scream, shoving past her to push the door open. You stumble into the wall across from you once your mother attempted to grip your wrist, tripping over your high-healed pumps. "Stop this, right now!" your mother screeches, unaware of the fact that two of you had stumbled into the kitchen where your family has gathered. "Let me go!" You demand, wrenching your wrist away from her before you gasp. The room falls silent after the sound of your mother's hand colliding with your cheek and Harry is the first to step forward. "I think it's best we leave now," he says tensely, wrapping you in the safety of his arms before ushering you from the kitchen. "She looks like a whore now Eric, she is ruining the family name!" you hear your mother hissing to your father, referencing the champagne colored sequenced skirt and sheer white top. "You look like a big sparkly tiara," Harry whispers against your temple, lips kissing away the tears that had fallen from your eyes and you sigh. "I knew that's how she'd react... she's, such a bitch! She's always so keen on appearances and they've had me engaged to Aaron Larue since we were babies. I hate coming home, I hate her!" You cried in frustration, covering your makeup stained face with your hands and Harry chuckles softly. "She's your mother, you don't hate her. She's uptight and a bitch, I'll give you that but... you don't hate her. I know that and you know that. So she doesn't approve, our relationship isn't about her is it?" Harry questioned, taking your hand at the red light to press warm kisses to your knuckles until you sigh in agreement. "No," you affirm, turning your head to look at him and he gives you a bright smile. "Then that's settled. If she never approves then that's alright, my mom practically assumes you came from her own vagina so," Harry teased, relived when you laughed at his words. Smiling at the feeling of your lips against his cheek, he turned into the gentle kiss as you nuzzled his jaw with your nose. "I love you," you whispered with a smile, determined not to let your disapproving mother ruin the rest of your trip.

Liam: It's a normal day at home, Liam is at work and you have the day off. Liam's schedule is more than hectic now that's he opened another music store in Manchester, it's normal to find that he's either on the road by car or by train. He's in the process of planning the opening party for the store, most of his time spent on the phone with bands and caterers rather than him actually working. "Hello," you answer, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear while gathering the things for your makeup bag. "Y/N... I'm disappointed in you," you hear the harsh tone of your father state in laments term and you stop immediately. "What'd I do daddy?" You question, searching your brain for all the things you've ever done that could have your father disappointed in you. "This boy you're seeing... you should know better," he snaps, papers rustling in the background and you assume he's at the office. "Daddy... he's a good guy, he's good to me," you immediately defend, voice high pitched in despair because you're fathers disapproval is more than you can handle. "You know I'll never accept him... these pictures of you are, unacceptable!" he yells, voice lowering at the end once he's reminded that he's in a law office and not at home. "What pictures?" You cry, spinning to sit at the end of the bed you share with Liam. The blue and purple paisley sheets still unmade from your lazy start and this is your home. This is where you live, the place you share with Liam; the boy your father would've accepted in a perfect world. "Lacy sent me pictures of the two of you from some music event... he's covered in tattoos! And, the skirt you were wearing was way too short. You are not the girl I raised and I don't know where she is, but I'd like you to return her at once! I will not stand for this any longer!" you father demands, leaving no room for discussion as he usually does. Tears spill down your cheeks and no matter how hard you fight him, your father refuses to budge on the subject. "I could give two shits about what this boy has done for your brother. All he's done is feed this rebellious streak Abram has going and if that's how you're going to care for him then I will bring Abram home tomorrow. He was supposed to come to London with you so you could guide him, put him on the right path and now he's more determined than ever to live out some ridiculous fantasy about being in a band! You are not the daughter I raised and don't think I won't hesitate to cut you off if you continue this nonsense!" Your father is harsh and serious, hanging up before you have the chance to respond. "What... happened? Are you alright?" Liam questions in a rushed voice, stepping over your expensive and extensive makeup collection that is scattered across the hardwood of the bedroom floor. Everything from your vanity is overturned and scattered across the floor, your priced possession of makeup is shattered and broken. "My dad told me he was going to cut me off," you whisper softly, knees bent with your face buried against the kneecaps. Liam steps over smashed lipstick to take a seat beside you against the bed, legs sprawling out in front of him as he questions your conversation with your father. "He told me I was being a child and that he'd never approve of you. He said if I continue to be with you, he'll pull Abram home and cut me off!" you cry in despair, swiping the mixture of tears and black eye makeup away from your cheeks and Liam is momentarily speechless. "I'm sorry," Liam finally says and he knows there's nothing else he can say. "I don't even need him or his money but... he's always been the one to support me. I'm 22 years old and I'm terrified of growing up and not needing my daddy's money," you cry in a laugh, burying your face in Liam's neck once he's pulled you into his arms. "I can support you now," Liam assures you, pressing kisses to your temple before you push him away. "I don't need anyone to support me, it's just..." "You've always had someone to support you," Liam finishes and you nod. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and lets his lips linger there as he talks. "He'll come around and if not, then fuck him. I love you and I know you love your father but like you said, you're 22 now. It's time to grow up and start doing things for yourself... and it's time to clean this mess up, all these smells are giving me a headache," Liam states, pulling you to your feet. You spend the rest of the night going through your makeup and throwing out what is ruined and making lists of what you need to replace.

Niall: "Why can't you be more like your sister?" Your mother demands, scoffing as you cradle her newborn granddaughter against your chest. Megan looks away at the comment, opting to watch her husband struggle to put the playpen together with Niall because she can tell; this is going to be awful. "I... why can't I ever be enough for you? I'm a nurse, I help save lives. I have a boyfriend who has a good job and he supports me... I'm not on drugs, I've never been to jail, I graduated high school and I don't have a baby... why isn't that enough?" You cry, years of inadequacy bubbling to the surface at your mothers words and she roles her eyes. "Because being a nurse is so fabulous. Your sister is married to a lawyer, she doesn't have to worry about a thing. She isn't with some... hoodlum," your mother scoffs, gesturing to Niall who you know can hear her words but is choosing to ignore her. "He's not, that. He's successful, he's the most successful tattoo artist in London. All the stars want him to tattoo them... how is that not successful or lucrative. I wouldn't have to worry about anything with him if we got married," you defend, passing your sister the wailing baby to set your hands on your hips. Your mother laughs, actually laughs in your face. "That's hilarious... you're not going to marry him, I won't allow it" She states with finality, narrowing her gaze when Niall comes to stand at your side in a show of support. "You aren't the boss of me anymore, I'm a grown woman. I make my own decisions, you can't tell me what to do anymore!" You cry out, resisting the urge to stomp your foot and goad your mother further. "Don't you dare speak to me in that tone. I am your mother and I will continue to tell you what to do if you continue to act like a child!" She screeches, snapping at your sister when she tries to step in between the two of you. "Don't talk to her like that!" You scream, shoving your mother away from your sister before stumbling back into Niall's hold when your mothers palm makes contact with your face. "You are worthless, you've always been worthless. You are nothing like your sister and that's why she's the golden child! You were a mistake, a byproduct of an affair and you're the sole reason why your father left! I will not let you ruin the life I had to struggle for you to have!" She screams, eyes wild and angry and Niall is quick to step between the two of you. "Don't you ever speak to her like that again! You have put her down enough and I'll not stand for it anymore. You don't like me? I could give two fucks about you. You're possibly the worst mother ever and the fact that you're standing here trying to tell her what to do is ludicrous," Niall seethes, eyes wide and shoulders stiff and you've never seen him this angry. "Don't ever put your hands on my woman again or her sister. Don't you ever tell her she's worthless. I'm sorry that your life went to hell because you were a whore but don't blame your misgivings on my woman. We're done here, we're leaving," Niall snaps, arms flailing with his words before he grips your hand tightly. He drags you from the home, slamming the door loudly before practically carrying you to the car and shoving your inside the rented land rover. You realize, when the door shuts and Niall runs around to the drivers side, that you're not crying. Usually tears and insecurity would be bubbling over after a fight with our mother but Niall had stood up to her, stood up for you when your sister wouldn't. You're pulling out of the driveway when you see your brother-in-law kicking your mother from his house, door slamming angrily in her face and you find satisfaction in that. "Your mother takes the cake... she's way worse than my piece of shit brother," Niall teases, pressing kisses to your knuckles and you find yourself giving a small chuckle at his words. "Finally, I beat you at something!" You mock in excitement, clapping your hands like a child and he shakes his head with a smile. "Can we go home now? I know you want to see your niece but come on, there are babies in London we could pretend are kin... I hate this place," Niall sighs, gesturing to the big city of LA and you smile. "There's a red eye at midnight," you offer after checking flights on your phone. Niall runs into the hotel to get your belongings before driving you to the airport and you've never been more excited to return to the dreary weather of London.

Louis: "I found you in another magazine," your mom begins the conversation. This wasn't going to be good. Every time she comes across your picture in one of the magazines at the grocery store she never hesitates to call you and complain. She wasn't impressed with the lifestyle Louis was now providing you with. "I didn't raise you to be dependent on someone else," she scolded. Her voice was calm, but you were well aware of her disappointment. She never had anything good to say about him or your relationship with him even though she had no control over it. "I don't see anything wrong with enjoying the life he wants me to have," you counter, knowing your words were hopeless against her closed mind. Being a single mother, she had taught you independence, but independence was far from how you were living now. The lavish lifestyle Louis was providing for you upset your mom and the only reason you could figure as to why was because you hadn't worked for a life like this yourself."You shouldn't even be with him. His reputation is horrible, what with being in and out of court and those parties. (Y/N) those parties he has always cause negative attention. The neighbors complain and the police are called in. It's just a mess. Why would you want to be associated with someone like that?" Her words were irrelevant to you. "Mom that doesn't even happen. Those are all false stories from people who have nothing better to do. The cops have never been called to our house..." "'Our' house? What do you mean 'our' house?" You pause at her interruption, your head falling into your chest. You hadn't told her about moving in with Louis yet, even though if she paid the attention to the media she thought she did it would have been more than obvious. You sigh loudly over the line and reveal the truth. "Yeah, our house. He asked me to move in a few months ago." There was no pause after your explanation. "A FEW MONTHS AGO! (Y/F/N) what the hell are you thinking?" Her anger wasn't helping your emotions. You were upset with yourself for not telling her the truth when it happened and now her reaction made everything worse. You fall silent on your end of the phone, your emotions not allowing you to explain yourself any further. "Honestly (Y/N) I taught you better than this. I taught you to do things for yourself. I certainly didn't raise you to go and find some bigshot football club owner and mooch off of him for the rest of your life." "Mom, I love him," you respond quietly. "You love his money (Y/N)." "That's not true," you respond, your tone still soft. "You cannot tell me that you aren't with him for his money? Since when is completely covered in tattoos the guy you pick out of a crowd?" "I thought the same thing but he's actually really amazing." "Really amazing with a lot of money." "IT'S NOT HIS FUCKING MONEY MOM! GOD CAN'T YOU JUST BE HAPPY FOR ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?" You immediately wish you hadn't yelled, after all you were the one disappointing your mom. You just didn't understand why she was so close minded about moving beyond the life she thought you should have. Silence is all you hear but you can't find the will to apologize. It wasn't fair that she couldn't see your side. "I've got to go mom," you eventually say after a long moment of silence. "I love you (Y/N), I just need you to think about the situation you are putting yourself in." "Alright mom," you respond, completely defeated by her words. You would never say anything about Louis that would make her approve of his lifestyle.

Zayn: "Is this your new place or something?" Your father inquires as the two of you take the elevator ride up to Zayn's apartment. "No," you begin, his confusion lingering, "this is where Zayn lives." "Can't he install his own dishwasher then?" "He's out of town at the moment." You hadn't told your dad a lot about Zayn, just how you met and a little bit about his artwork. "Is this it?" He asks, looking around, once you open the door. "Are you sure someone lives here? There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of stuff in here." "He travels around the country showing his artwork at galleries so he doesn't spend a whole lot of time here." He falls silent at your explanation, seemingly unimpressed with Zayn's line of work. "So this is the replacement?" He questions from the kitchen, pointing at the unopened box sitting beside the dinner table. You nod and take a seat on the counter top to wait until he needed your help. "So how much do these galleries pay him for his art?" He asks as he begins to pull out the old dishwasher. "They don't." "They don't what?" "They don't pay him." "How does he make money then?" His question was heavy with concern, not for Zayn but for you. "He gets paid if people buy his paintings." "So how often does that happen?" "Usually every time he goes to a show. He's really talented Dad." "I'm sure he is." His sarcasm bugged you. You had dated enough deadbeats in your time and he was very aware of that so he didn't mind putting Zayn in that same category. "Dad," you scold. "What? I can't help it the boy doesn't have a real job. You were probably the one that bought this dishwasher." You get quiet. "Please tell me you aren't buying things like this for him." "Sophie and I spend a lot of time over here anyways." "(Y/N) you can't be serious?" His tone was more serious than before. "I didn't mind doing it. I will use it more than he will." "This is his apartment (Y/N)! You shouldn't have to be buying things for it. If he has a legitimate job let him take care of himself." "Can you just not yell," you say, your eyes starting to water. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I just don't understand how the two of you even found each other. And finding out he doesn't really do a whole lot to support himself doesn't help either." "I don't understand how it happened either. But he is a really nice guy and no matter how much or how little money he has I know he is always going to take care of me." "I hope you're right." You slide off the counter, setting the dishwasher pieces you had in your lap on the floor beside him. The last thing you needed to do was cry in front of your already angry father. "Come on babygirl," you tell Sophie, finding a spot on the couch to spend the afternoon watching television away from the kitchen.