Niall: "So (Y/N), are you coming to the MTV music awards tomorrow night too?" Liam smiles over at you. You were mentally high fiving Liam - this provided Niall with the perfect oppurtunity to ask you to go with him. You really wanted to go, and knew he could take a guest, and despite you dropping massive hints, Niall still aparently remained clueless. You tutrn to smile at Niall, who wraps an arm around you before answering Liam, "ah, you don't like that stuff do ya? Not into all the dressing up and stuff are you? Too fussy. Can't say I disagree," he laughs, squeezing your arm. Liam smiles sadly at you, "Aw, thats a shame, it would've been great if you'd come along too,". "Yeah," you smile awkwardly, excusing yourself. Later that night when Niall returns home he finds you sat on the settee, staring at the TV. "Babe, why didn't you say you were leaving? I've been looking everywhere for you, you weren't picking up your phone," he frowns, moving to sit by you, "I was worried,". "Sorry," you shrug, indifferent, "Didn't think you'd mind," you don't pull your eyes away from the screen. "Course I mind," he gently throws his arm over your shoulders, "What are you watching that's so interesting anyway?". "Last years MTV awards," you reply, "You're going to have such a great time,". You see him frown out of the corner of your eye, not quite sure what to make of your behaviour. "All those girls getting all dressed up - I hear Demi Lovato's going to be there this year, she'll look amazing all dressed up i'm sure," you turn to him and smile, somewhat sarcastically. "Yeah, I guess..." he looks at you for a second, "What's up with you? What's all this about? Do you want to go tomorrow, is that it?". "I did, but not now I know i'm an embarassment, and i'd look silly dressed up," tears start to form in your eyes, as you admit your insecurities to both yourself and Niall, "I know i've never been good enough for you, pretty enough, but I never thought it bothered you that much,". He wipes away a tear from your cheek, "Hey, don't be daft," he wraps his arms around you to hug you, "You should know I think you're the prettiest girl in the world. And i'm sure, no I know that you'd look just as fantastic all dressed up," he reassures you, stroking your arm, "If you'd wanted to go so much, why didn't you just say?". You shrug, mumbling, "It wasn't my place to invite myself,". You tense as he starts to laugh, "You think i'd want anyone but you by my side?" he shakes his head, "I only didn't ask because I thought you hated that type of thing,". "Sorry," you kiss his neck gently, "For overreacting,". "Nah, i'm sorry for being a useless boyfriend," he laughs, and you nudge his side, "Now, would you (Y/N), my beautiful girlfriend and love of my life, do me the honour of accompanying me to the award show tomorrow evening?".
Louis: "... and here, meet my pretend girlfriend, Carrie. Carrie, this is my real girlfriend, (Y/N)," Louis introduces as Carrie smiles at you warmly, "It's great to finally meet you, Louis' told me a lot of great things about you,". Louis had brought you onto the set of the bands newest music video, and insisted on showing you everything and introducing you to everyone. You stood awkwardly with Louis' arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder as he held an animated conversation with Carrie. Looking down, you notice Louis' hands slowly stroking your stomach - why was he doing that? You weren't pregnant. Your stomach wasn't that big was it? Ok, it was no way near as flat as Carrie's, but that didn't mean he had to stroke it. As the week went on, you became increasingly more paranoid about your stomach, pushing Louis away and making up excuses to get away everytime his hands went near your abdomen. "Ok, what's up?" he cracks one day, and you raise an eyebrow in his direction, "You won't even let me near you with a barge pole these days. What's going on?" he stares down at you, hands on hips. "You've always got your hands on my stomach," you confess, knowing it's no use lying to him, "And I know it's big, a lot bigger than Carries but -" the expression on Louis' face cuts you off. "One, your stomachs not big, it never has been, it's perfect. Two, what does Carrie have to do with your stomach?". "Well, she's slim, and pretty, and you get on well, and I thought," you mumble, sighing, "I don't know what I thought,". "Carrie hasn't even got a penny on you love," he reaches out to pull you in for a hug, "And as for resting my hand on your stomach, I've always done it. When we first started dating you said you liked it. That it made you feel relaxed and protected," he moves a strand of hair out of your face, "If you want me to stop, I will. I didn't realise it bothered you,". You shake your head before resting it on his chest, hugging him a bit tighter, "No, it was just me being silly and jealous,".
Harry: The two of you had been cuddling on the sofa watching a film. You lean over him to reach for the cookie packet but stop when Harry scoffs, "Really? Another? You've already had four,". You smile embarassedly, and settle back down into his side - without a cookie. You couldn't concentrate on the film anymore though, too wound up over what Harry could've meant by that comment. Did he think you were putting on weight? Or could he think you were already fat? As soon as the end credits roll, you excuse yourself for a shower. "Ok babe, I'll make a start on tea," he calls after you. Once in the shower you start prodding and poking yourself - maybe you were putting on weight? You end up spending more time identifying your wobbly bits than actually showering. Once out, you throw on the baggiest pyjamas you could find (and old pair of Harry's) and settle down on the bed with a book. About half an hour later, Harry sticks his head around the corner of the bedroom door grinning, "Foods done babe,". You look back down at your book as you answer, "I'm not hungry, I've had enough to eat today,". "What're you talking about? We didn't even have time for breakfast this morning," he steps fully into the room, "Come on, I made your favourite,". You stare at him pointedly, "I've had too much to eat today,". He stares at you for a few seconds, and you watch as eventually his expression changes from one of confusion to realisation. "The cookies?" he barely whispers, and you nod, still staring at him expressionlessly. "No no no no no no," he jumps beside you on the bed, "No no no no no. Please don't stop eating, I didn't mean that you were fat, not at all,". You stroke his hair, trying to calm him down, he was almost going into a full on panic attack, "It's fine, don't worry. You were just being honest with me,". He shakes his head, "No, not at all! I only stopped you because the last time you had loads of those stupid cookies you were ill after because they were really sickly," he cries. You blush as you remember, embarassed and ashamed at yourself that you could have taken Harry's comment for anything but caring and considerate. "You're not fat at all, your perfect. Please don't starve yourself, this is all my fault," he begs. "Oh i'm so sorry Harry! Of course I won't. How could I be so stupid," you stress. He takes your hand and kisses each knuckle, "I'm so sorry (Y/N),". You shake your head, "Don't be, that was all my fault. Now," you smile weakly, "Where's this food, because i'm starving?".
Zayn: "So... what do you think?" you ask as you twirl slowly in front of him, showing off the dress you'd brought for the film premiere that night. "Yeah," Zayn mumbled indifferently, "It's alright,". "Oh!" Zayn was usually full of compliments, even when you were just in a vest and trackies. That must mean the dress looked really bad then, you wonder if it made you look lumpy? Zayn would be far too polite to point that out. Later on that night, Zayn walks into the apartment to find you in your comfies, eating straight out of a tub of ice cream, "Sorry I was late - what are you wearing? We're already running late!" he stares at you in sheer disbelief, you'd been so excited about tonight. "i'm not going," you explain calmly, stirring the chocolate ice cream. "What? Why?". "Because I have nothing to wear," you answer, holding back the 'duh' that threatened to spill out. "What about that great dress you showed me earlier?" he asks confused. "Great?" you scoff, "You made it perfectly clear you didn't like it,". "That," he pulls you up off the sofa, "Is because I am an incredibly protective boyfriend and was already getting jealous just thinking about the looks all the guys were going to be giving you. You look seriously fit babe,". You can't help it as a grin spreads across your face, "Really?". "Really really," he assures you, "Now hurry up and get ready before we end up even later than fashionably late!" he calls after you as you run into the bedroom.
Liam: You hated washing the dishes with a passion. So every time it was your turn to do them (you and Liam took it in turns) you used to sing as a way of distraction. "You always have to sing when you're doing that?" Liam points out one day from where he sat on his laptop, his tone kind of annoyed. It surprised you. You knew you weren't a great singer, but you weren't that bad were you? You laugh off the comment, but secretly you take it to heart, and you stop singing while you're doing the dishes. A couple of weeks later while you're stood at the sink, Liam comes up behind you and places his hands on your hips, "You don't sing anymore," his voice sounds sad. You shrug, "I didn't want to annoy anyone,". "But who would you annoy?" he twists your hips slightly so he can see you better. "Well, you said a couple of weeks ago...". He spins you around so fast that you trip and catch yourself on his chest, "What? No, I love you singing. It reminds me of home," you smile weakly at his comment, "I only said something before because i'd just got back from tour, and because i'd gone so long without it,", he kisses your forehead, "I miss it, I miss you,". You smile at eachother for a short while, and as you look down at his chest you laugh. "Oops," you smirk, moving your hands off his chest to reveal two wet hand prints on his shirt.