One Direction BSM Preferences

Insecurities

Zayn (14): Weight

        You scrolled through Twitter, not really paying attention. Loads of hate popped up, but it was most definitely less than the good things that people had to say about you, so you ignored it. At least, you ignored it until a certain tweet caught your eye.

        It was someone sending you a link to a Sugarscape article. You rolled your eyes, clicking on the link. "This should be good," you said, waiting impatiently for your ancient laptop to load the page. (You could always ask for a new one, but you didn't think it was important. You didn't need Zayn or your mother spending useless money on relatively unimportant things.)

        "(Y/N) Malik Gaining Weight?" read the healine. Your mouth dropped open as it showed pictures of the previous month and this month, highlighting the size difference in you arms, stomach, and thighs. There was even one with the same outfit, where it was obvious the shirt and pants were tighter than they had been the previous month.

        You slammed your computer shut, running to the bathroom. When you got there, you stared at your reflection, not even bothering to close the door. You didn't care that Zayn was on his way home. It didn't matter. Now that you looked closer, you were getting fat. You couldn't believe you'd ignored it for so long. 

        You slid your shirt off, standing there in your bra and jeans. You began poking and prodding at your stomach and arms, identifying the places where the fat had accumulated the most. You had just pinched the underside of your arm, when Zayn walked by on the way to his bedroom.

        "What're you doing, (Y/N)?" he asked, frowning as you jumped for your shirt. "Is everything alright?" You hesitated before answering him.

        "Am I fat?" you asked looking down. Zayn shook his head desperately, pulling you towards him. 

        "Of course not, you're beautiful. Why?" he questioned. You shrugged, and he sighed, pulling away so you could ut your shirt on. "Don't listen to whoever is telling you that, okay? You're perfect." he said, kissing your forehead before continuing on his way.

Harry (7): Curls

        You ran up to your big brother the moment you were home from school, burying your face in his torso as you cried your eyes out. He frowned, kneeling down to look you in the eyes. 

        "Kitten, what's wrong?" he asked, as you wiped your face furiously.

        "N-nothing," you said, before tearing out of his arms and up to the bathroom, where you knew someone had left a hair straighener. You found it after digging through the drawers for a few moments, and snuck it back to your room under your shirt. 

        With teary eyes, you plugged it in, waiting for it to heat up. Then you began to yank it though your hair as best you could, not entirely sure how the thing worked. Unfortunately, you weren't paying attention, and burned your arm in an effort to straighten out one of your curls. You let out a yelp, and dropped the iron to the floor, narrowly missing your toe.

        "(Y/N)?" Harry yelled, racing up the stairs and into your room. He stopped when he saw your half-straightened curls, some of them a bit kinky in places, with a red burn on your arm, and hair straightener lying on the floor, smoking a bit. Then he shook himself out of his confusion, leaping for the smoking device. He turned it off an unplugged it, then turned to you.

        "Sweetie, did you burn yourself?" he asked, eyeing your arm. You nodded. He picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom and setting you on the side of the bathtub. He took down the shower head, turning on the cold water, and then ran it over your arm.