everybody that dragged you here

I Would Never Hurt You

Request: can I have an imagine where Nate and Y/N have a huge argument and Nate almost hits Y/N but realizes what he’s doing before he does it and they talk it through and they end up apologizing and cuddling.

A/N: I think this may be my first time taking a request and writing it out. Like I said before, I am not at that point yet where I feel comfortable and confident enough to do people’s request, but will still my best to try to do the ones I feel like I can. To the person who requested: I’m sorry if it’s not the way you wanted it, but I still hope you enjoyed it! To everyone: Please hit my ask box with anything if you want - questions, confessions, discussions, your opinions of the imagines I write, or criticism. Anything is much appreciated. ☺️ | MASTER LIST


It was nearing 3:40 a.m. in the morning and, as per usual, Nate wasn’t home. You laid in bed wide awake with nothing but bad thoughts running through your mind. It was always a constant struggle to fall asleep with all the worrying you would do when Nate was out partying and coming home late. Of course you were always invited to come, but rarely would you attend seeing as you weren’t much of the “stay out late til the morning, getting high, drunk, and shit" party type of person. You thought it’d be best if you gave him space to be with his friends anyways in fear that you were constricting him from having any fun with them, but that was far from what you were doing. If anything, you were a bit too free with Nate, and you finally had it up to here with him. “Once he comes through that door, I’m gonna say something,” you thought to yourself, confident in your decision. But then you had to remind yourself, “… when he’s sober and not high….” because that was how he usually came home - drunk and high.

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You were awaken by a loud commotion coming from the front doors of your house. It was the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling around, loud grunting, keys jangling, and slight incoherent mumblings. Squinting your eyes from the light that was peering brightly through the bedroom, you turn to look at the clock and saw that it was 4:17 AM. You sat up and focused your eyes outside the door that was kept open for Nate’s purposes and you waited until you saw either Nate or any of the boys come walking in the living room. You didn’t have a bird’s eye view of the front doors but the living room instead so you still had yet to know who took Nate home. However, once in the house, it didn’t take long for the stench of alcohol and weed to travel to your room and into your nose, but you were used to the smell - never fond of it, but used to it. Then two bodies presented itself, struggling to make their way to the couch. That’s when you know it was the tipping point for Nate, when he couldn’t make it to the bedroom and had to knock out on the couch. It was Gilinsky who was assisting Nate. Once he had successfully put Nate down, Jack stood and saw your dimly lit silhouette sitting up from the bed. He gives you a look of sadness because he knew how much it hurt you to have Nate come home in this state of mind. You gave him a “what can I do” shrug and smiled at him, thanking him for his help. He smiled back and left your house.

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The afternoon had hit and Nate was finally waking up. You were in the kitchen cooking up some lunch for the both of you as you saw him rub his eyes; he had an obvious hangover. He moaned and sat up to a glass of water and 2 pills of advils by his side. “Thanks, lil mama.” No response came from you, instead you just kept cooking. He didn’t think much of it as he moaned some more, frustrated with his aching headache, and asked with his eyes closed and fingers rubbing his temples, “So what’s for lunch?” Still no reply. You knew that if you opened your mouth, it wouldn’t be to answer his question rather the start of an endless array of arguing with an already irritated at his hangover Nate. You wanted to wait until he was able to function properly to say anything.

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It’s late at night and the both of you are getting ready for bed. Nate recovered from his hangover hours ago and became in a much better mood; therefore, making you contemplate on whether or not if it was the best time to bring up the topic of his nightly ritual habits. You stood alongside your bed with your arms raised behind your head and rubbing the back of your neck. Then comes Nate from behind and his arms snake around your waist. “You’ve been quiet the whole day. Is everything okay?”

No. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” You wiggle your way out of Nate’s arms and jump into bed while he still remains standing.

He continues to badger you. “Are you sure?”

No. “Yeah. I’m sure,” you blatantly reply.

“No you’re not. What’s wrong?” he asks. At this point, he begins to get annoyed with your short responses and rolls his eyes.

You look at him first with confusion of the fact that he just rolled his eyes at you, then you look at him with disgust and annoyance. “Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? Okay. I’m tired. I’m tired of this and I’m tired of that. I hate how you come home late almost every single night, high and shit, and you can’t even care to say sorry or anything else for that matter the next damn day. You just wanna continue on like you did nothing wrong, like you actually believe you did nothing wrong.” You stare and wait for his response.

He was taken aback by your sudden outburst, but angrily replies back. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t come home late all the time. And even if I did, you’re lucky I come back home at all after nights like those!”

You gasped, surprised at his dumb response. He did not just go there. “Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?! Then don’t even come back!“

“Yeah, it is! You know how many times I’m too tired to go home? How many times I want to stay back and sleep there, but I don’t?! I come back home to you!!” he gestures his whole hand and points to you. “But you know what? Next time I won’t.”

“You’re too tired?!” you yelled back. You pause in words and take the moment to get off the bed and stand directly in front of Nate. “What about the people that have to take you home, huh?! You act like it’s such a big inconvenience for you to come home when you don’t even have to do anything because everybody else has to drag your drunk ass back here. You literally don’t have to put any effort into anything, Nate!”

Nate scoffs at your statement and ignores the whole situation. He proceeds out the bedroom door and slams it shut behind him. What the hell? Having not finished with the argument, you open the door back up and follow closely behind. “We’re not done yet!” you scream and pull his arm to make him turn back around. 

Then an unexpected move is made by Nate. “Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?!” He retorts as he raises his hand in a fist and lunges it midway towards yourself. You gasp and majorly flinch back, bringing your head down as you take cover under your arms. Nate’s eyes go wide open as he realized what he was about to do. His fist opens up and he slowly brings it down to his side and cups your face between your armored arms. “I-I… I am so fucking sorry, (Y/N)….” His breathing becomes faster and his words struggle to escape his lips. “(Y/N), (Y/N), please look at me. Please, (Y/N),” he desperately begs. You cautiously bring your arms down and look at him with fear visible in your eyes. He never hurt you before, let alone tried, so to think he was close to doing so scared the living soul out of you. He’s much bigger than you, much stronger, and you don’t know what would have happened if he did hit you. With his mouth slightly opened and eyes wide, still in shock of his actions, he lets go and takes a step back. “I am so sorry, (Y/N). You know I would never hurt you. Never. Please believe me (Y/N).” You didn’t know how to respond; you were still in shock. But then you remembered: this is the same guy who secretly tears up when a sad part comes on in the movies, this is the same guy who is so loving to little children and animals, this is the same guy who loves and cares for you and never laid a hand on you before, and no matter his mistakes, he knows how to control himself and his anger. You weren’t gonna let one honest to God mistake come in between your whole relationship.

“I know you wouldn’t…” You take a step forward. You look into his eyes and reassured him, “It’s okay. I’m okay, Nate.” But you knew it was gonna take a lot more than your forgiveness to make him forgive himself.

“I promise, no more coming home late, no more getting drunk, no more getting high, no more parties. But (Y/N), please know that I will never, ever, ever hit you. Ever. Please know that, (Y/N). I love you too fucking much to ever do that to you. I’m so sorry…”

You held his hands. “Nate. I’m not saying stop it all. I’m just saying to limit yourself. That’s all. And I know you would never hit me, I know you, Nate.” His face was still flustered so you decided to call everything a night just as long as he knew where you stood on the whole situation. “Can we go to bed now?” He doesn’t reply because of how scared he is still, but he walks with you anyways to bed. Too scared to even touch you, you grab his hand and bring it over you in a spooning position. “Nate,” you whispered. “It’s okay.” You knew how sorry he was.

After a minute, he loosens up and kisses the back of your head. “I love you, (Y/N). I’m so sorry, I would never hurt you.”

You hold his hands and rub circles on the back of it. “I know, Nate, I know.” You place a kiss on his hand. “I love you, too.”