Liam: You snap a picture in the mirror, showing off your nonexistent arm muscle. Liam is in the background on the bench press. “Working hard there, babe?” He grunts his words out. “You’re just jealous I’m stronger than you,” You stick your tongue out at him. “Oh really?” He sets the weights back on the rack and comes up behind you. You’re flush against his sweaty chest, and his arms keep squeezing you tighter. “I know a much better workout you could try,” His lips are nipping at your earlobe, his suggestion clear in the husky tone of his voice. “It burns lots of calories.” “Liam Payne!” You try to wiggle alway. “We are in a public weight room!”
Zayn: “C’mon, Y/N.” He shakes your shoulder. “We’re home.” You mumble something incoherent, making no move to exit the car. Zayn sighs, and gets out of the car. He’s careful when opening your door so you don’t fall out onto the concrete. He leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt, “Up you go.” He reaches an arm under your knee and another one around your shoulder blades before lifting. “Zayn no!” You’re instantly awake. “I’m way too heavy!” He snorts out a laugh, “Babe. You are not.” He kicks the door closed. You watch his face, but you see no visible signs of a struggle. You turn your head to kiss his collarbone before drifting back to sleep in his arms.
Louis: You’re both lying in bed, discussing each other’s day and what not when he brings it up. He doesn’t look at you when he says, “Just out of curiosity, do you think I’m a bit too chubby?” You instantly sit up, “What? No! Louis, why would you even think that?” He shrugs, “I know I’m not skinny like Harry or super muscular like Liam…” “Louis, you have a great body!” You slide your hand up under his shirt to trace the abs sticking up. “Not that it matters because you’re a great, amazing person. The body is just a bonus…”
Niall: “What in the hell!” He says as he carries your suitcase out to the waiting car. “We’re going to America for a few days not years, babe!” Mr. Lightest Packer in the world says this every single time you go anywhere. “Here,” You try to take it from him. “Let me carry it if it’s too heavy.” Of course he doesn’t let you, Niall Horan is way too chivalrous to allow that. “Oh Jesus,” He mutters after hurling the suitcase into the trunk. “I think I’ve pulled a muscle.” He comes up beside you, mischief flashing in those blue eyes. “I think it’s me groin. Care to rub it out for me?”
Harry: You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, so still you could be made from stone. And Harry is leaning against the bedroom doorway, long limbs trembling with emotions. “I just want you to know,” His voice is raspy with how upset he really is. “That you’re not only hurting yourself. Every pound you lose, each time that damages your body just know it hurts me a hundred million times over. Baby-” He can’t get any more words out around the sobs. He falls to his knees on the floor, and you hurry to hold him. It’s finally your turn to be the strong one. “Please Y/N. Please stop hurting yourself,” He begs. “Do it for me…”