Zayn: You were sitting at home, in the flat you shared with your husband, Zayn. You were lying on the couch, with your swollen feet up, while you tried to get some sleep, even with your nine month inflated belly.
"When's Malik Jr. gonna get here?" Zayn whined, leaning over the couch to kiss your face.
"I don't know," you murmured sleepily, "Hopefully soon. I can't take this 'pregnant' thing much longer."
"Do you need anything, love?" Zayn stroked your hair with one hand.
"Yes," you murmured sleepily, "Do we have any of that nighttime tea left?" Zayn bit his lip quizzically.
"No, darling," he pecked your forehead, "You drank the last of it this afternoon. Do you want me to go out and get some?"
You nodded your head eagerly, half asleep already. "Then I'll be right back." Zayn started to head towards the door, but then seemingly changed his mind and came back.
"Love...," Zayn ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know. Are you going to be okay? You're about ready to pop."
"I'll be fine," you encouraged, "Please, can I have that tea? I really just need to sleep." Zayn nodded, eager to keep your aching pregnant body appeased, and then disappeared to the closest drug store.
You dozed off asleep a few moments later, only to be awoken by an intense pain shooting up your back and abdomen. You realized the couch was wet, and your water must have broken. "Zaaayn!" You shrieked out, unable to cope with the heavy and hard contractions, that were coming faster and faster. But he must have still been out getting tea.
"Please, Zayn - AGH!" You clutched your stomach and rolled off the couch onto your knees. As wave of contractions hit you, you felt your sanity chipping away. "No, no, it's not supposed to happen this way..." You let out a scream as another contraction hit you, and you felt your baby kicking around. That's all you remembered as it went black.
Nearly fourteen hours later, you woke up in a hospital bed.
"[Y/N]! [Y/N]?" You heard Zayn's raspy voice coming from somewhere in the room. He got up from a chair in the hospital room and came to you in the bed. He grabbed your hands and kissed you all over, crying.
"Oh, oh thank God you're okay," he murmured into your lips, "Oh thank God. I thought I lost you."
"But the baby...," you trailed off, eyes wide.
Zayn beamed, "Is perfectly happy and healthy, and is getting bathed by the nurses right now." Zayn gently climbed into the hospital bed with you, making for a really tight fit, but you snuggled up to him regardless.
"You're not allowed to scare me like that again, okay?" Zayn kissed your head, "I'd be a wreck if I lost you."
"I love you, Zayn," you smiled, before falling back asleep.
"I love you, too, [Y/N]. Thanks for giving me our baby."
Louis:
You were headed to see your husband, Louis Tomlinson, perform... at nine months pregnant. As much as he had tried to persuade you to stay home, the boys were performing at the O2, and you didn't want to miss it for anything. Backstage, Louis tried one more time to get you to go home and rest, and you weren't having it.
"Well...," Louis bit his lip, "Please. Just sit on a couch backstage. Low key. Just, please." Louis was running his hands through his hair and pacing almost manically. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him as close to you as you could, your bump in the way, and you kissed him.
"I'll be fine, Lou," you grinned, "Now go put on a good show for Rosie," he beamed, rubbing your belly.
"For good luck!" He yelled, his mischievous Louis ways coming back to him, "Boys!" He addressed the rest of the band, "For good luck!" You giggled and rolled your eyes as all of the boys ran over to you to rub your belly for luck.
As the concert started, you beamed, proudly, at your husband. However, only a short minute later, you felt something wet running down your legs, followed by a sharp pain. Oh god. Not now. Not labor.
"LOUIS!" You screamed desperately, but it was futile, you couldn't make a noise over the raging fans and music of the concert. You slowly went down to your knees, holding your stomach, before making eye contact with Paul.
"Paul!" You screamed, pointing to your stomach. His eyes got wide and he nodded, then turned to try and get Louis. When he finally got Louis' attention, Louis didn't know what was going on. He kept making confused, frantic gestures on stage while Paul tried to mime 'your wife is going into labor'. Finally, when he got it, he screamed... in the microphone.
"MY WIFE IS GOING INTO LABOR?!" All of the other boys stopped, the music stopped, and the fans stopped. Louis got red and looked towards Paul, who was nodding frantically.
"Uhh... okay, bye guys!" Louis yelled into the microphone, causing screams and congratulations to erupt from the fans.
Louis ran to your side, were you crying from the sharp contractions. "Hey, hey, love," he kissed your face repeatedly, "Let's go, let's go have a baby! Yay!" Louis was jumping around like an over zealous child, extremely excited to see his new baby girl.
"Lou...," you grunted through the pain, "Stop being so damn cheerful. This hurts."
Louis sobered up for a second, and grabbed your hand, kissing your face repeatedly. "Squeeze whenever it hurts, love - OUCH!"
A few hours later, you delivered a very happy and healthy baby Rosie. Louis was staring at his baby, all wrapped up in her bassinet, and he smiled at you.
You were elated at your baby girl, and happy husband, but winced a little at your soreness.
"Oh," Louis nodded sympathetically, kissing you, "Sore?" You nodded, and Louis bit his lip. "So it's a bad time for me to complain about my hand then, yea?"
Liam:
You were at home in your flat in London, that you shared with your husband, Liam Payne. Him being Liam Payne, he was away on a day of press in Paris. He was absolutely terrified to go, your due date being in a week, but you convinced him that a quick day of press away would be fine.
"You going to be okay, [Y/N]?" Liam's voice echoed through the speaker phone on your flat as you did some dishes leftover from breakfast.
"Yes, Li!" You giggled, "I'm going to be fine! I'm not even due for another week."
"Yeah...," Liam was hesitant, "But I'm pretty sure James might be eager." You could see the little happy smirk on his face when he mentioned your baby boy's name.
"You calling me fat, Payne?" You fake yelled at the phone. Liam started laughing, but quickly back tracked.
"No! No...I'm just saying! I don't want to leave you alone when you're this pregnant."
"If he's anything like he's father, Li, he'll be perfectly respectable and on time. In a week." You dropped a plate with a small crash, and Liam heard it over the phone.
"What are you doing, [Y/N]?" He asked, worry apparent in his voice.
"I'm just doing some dishes...," you muttered. Liam had warned you that he didn't want you doing any work or house chores while he was away.
"[Y/N]! What did I say? Stop the dishes. Go lay down. Now, please."
"Liam, I'm perfectly - AGH!" You were cut off as a sharp pain spread through your entire abdomen. You clutched your inflated belly and grabbed the counter top for support, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.
"[Y/N]? [Y/N]?!" Liam was yelling into the phone, "Are you okay? Are you going into labor?! [Y/N]!" He was absolutely frantic.
"Li...," your voice was quiet, "I think I'm giving birth."
"Oh god! Oh god, okay, I'm leaving right now. Just hold on. I'm going to call Eleanor. She's going to come get you. Sit down, breathe deep. I'll be there in a few hours." You cried softly and looked up at the speaker phone, suddenly feeling very alone as you heard Liam's far off voice on the phone.
"I don't want to have this baby without you, Li...," you cried while holding onto your contracting stomach.
"I know, angel," Liam cooed, "I'm going to stay on the phone with you. But if the doctor says push, you need to push okay?"
"Okay," you agreed. Ten minutes later, Eleanor burst through the door of your flat, keys in hand. She helped you up and gently lead you out of your apartment. She got you to the hospital, and they whisked you off into a delivery room, you crying for Liam the entire time. When the OB/GYN finally got there, she let out a low whistle and her lips formed a straight line.
"We're going to need to do a C-Section, [Y/N]," she curtly informed you, making motions to the nurses as they started to prep you.
"No! NO!" You were crying, "I need my husband! I need Liam! I'm not going to do this!" You were a frightened mess when they started to wheel you off, when suddenly, you heard Liam's loud voice come booming down the hallway. You looked up, and saw him dressed in scrubs, following you into the operating room. You let out a massive sigh of relief.
"Li...," you sighed contently, a grin covering your face. You held his hand tightly and drifted away under the drugs. Four hours later, you woke up, sore, but awake.
"Liam?!" You jolted up.
"Ssh, lay down, [Y/N]," Liam's soft voice filled the hospital room, and he stood up from his chair. Walking over to you, carrying a pink blanket.
"Meet Jamie," Liam was smiling so big his eyes were nearly shut, "Our little girl."
Niall:
You were just hitting nine months pregnant with your baby son, who was going to be named Greg, with your husband, Niall Horan. Ever since the Nickelodeon prank (x), you had been giving him a hard time about how he was going to act when you went into labor. You were lounging backstage at an yet another Nickelodeon interview with him, and he gave your belly a little rub for good luck before heading out there.
"Wish daddy luck, little Greg!" He kissed your belly, and looked up at you, grinning.
"You're so silly, Horan," you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. He stood up and a little bit and gave you a quick kiss on the lips.
"And you're beautiful...," he wiggled his eyebrows.
"Not when I'm this pregnant," you argued, chuckling.
"All the time," he winked, and jogged out onto the main stage to begin his interview. You watched as the boys successfully completed another interview, joking with each other and with the interviewer. When suddenly, you felt something trickling down your leg. Oh shit.
"Ni...," you whimpered out, clutching your belly as you were suddenly very afraid. You looked up and darting your eyes around, trying to make eye contact with your husband, who was out on stage.
"Niall!" You yelled a little louder. All of the boys and the interviewer turned to look at you, and you let out a little whimper as a contraction went through your abdomen.
"Princess?" Niall raised his eyebrows and looked around to the interviewers, but not leaving his chair, "If this is another prank, guys, I swear..."
"Niall," you yelled, "Please, Niall!" You looked around for something to grab onto and steady yourself, your legs threatening to fail as the contractions came sharper.
Niall gingerly stood up off the chair, studying the boys faces for any sign of an impending prank.
"NIALL," you screamed, "THIS ISN'T A DAMN PRANK, NOW PLEASE COME HELP ME I'M HAVING OUR BABY AND I'M SCARED." You were sitting on the floor at this point, absolutely terrified. Niall seemed to jump into action.
He bounded to your side in a second, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and gingerly picking you up. "It's okay, it's okay, breathe [Y/N], breathe," he whispered encouragingly into your ear.
"Ni...," you cried, "Please..."
"I know, I know," Niall led you towards the car, "We're going to get you to the hospital. And we're going to have our little baby!" He continued to encourage you as he placed you into the car. You let out a little shriek as the contractions kept coming, Niall's face contorted in worry for you - but his voice remained steady.
"It's going to be okay, Princess! We're going to go have a baby! Our little baby! Okay? You can do. Break my hand if you need to." Niall climbed into the driver's seat and sped off towards the hospital.
Fourteen hours of back breaking labor later, you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. You woke up, tired and sweaty, a few hours later. Niall was sitting next to you, cradling Greg in a blue blanket.
"Hey, [Y/N]," Niall whispered, moving over to the bed, "You did such a good job. Do you want to hold our little miracle?"
Harry:
You were currently eight months pregnant with your and your husband, Harry Styles', baby. You knew that you were having a little boy, whom you decided to name Carson. Harry had been the worlds most amazing man while you had been pregnant; being there through morning sickness, rubbing your swelling feet, getting KFC at 3am, whatever it was that you needed.
You already knew that Harry was going to be an amazing father... But you had doubts about yourself. As a mother.
It was a Friday evening, and you had decided that you and your now prominent belly were too large to go anywhere. You were snuggled up on the couch with Harry, in between his legs, back to his chest. His hands were around your stomach, rubbing it softly. You closed your eyes and were just about to fall asleep, when a piercing pain spread through your body.
You muffled a scream and sat straight up in Harry's lap. "Kitten?!" he worriedly asked, fear covering his face, "Are you okay?" "Yeah," your murmured, voice weak, "It was nothing. Small cramp." You laid back down on Harry, praying the pain would go away.
Fifteen minutes later, it came back, harder. "ARGH," you groaned, this time unable to hide your total discomfort and blinding pain.
"[Y/N]!" Harry cried, quickly moving from behind you to in front of you, cradling your face in his massive hands, rubbing your cheeks. "Is it Carson? Is it time?"
"No, no," you sighed out, your voice barely distinguishable, "It's too earl - AHHHHH," you yelled again, unbearable pain ripping through your body. Harry's face contorted in fear for you, throwing his arms around you to pull you off the couch.
"We're going to the hospital," he murmured, "Come on, baby, it's gonna be okay,"
"NO!" You protested, your body revolting and screaming in pain as you moved, "I'm not in labor-" But then your water broke. You screamed again as contractions ripped through your body.
Harry remained completely calm, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you gently towards the door. "It's gonna be okay, [Y/N], it's scary, but you can do this. I won't leave you, I got you - "
"NOOOO!" You yelled again, "IT'S TOO EARLY! IT CAN'T BE THE BABY! I can't..." You trailed off.
Harry stopped. "What?"
"IT CAN'T BE THE BABY! I can't do this! I'm not ready, Harry! I'm not! What if the baby hates me! What if I'm a terrible mother! What if you start to hate me..."
But Harry cut you off with a hard kiss, silencing you. He cupped your face in his hands and made you meet his gaze. "[Y/N], you're going to be an amazing mother. I know you. The baby will love you. And for me? Oh angel, you'll always be my first baby. Now lets go meet our son, okay?"
You nodded weakly, and Harry got you to the car. Six hours later, you delivered a healthy, baby boy named Carson.
And when you woke up, Harry in the hospital bed with you, holding your baby boy in one arm, tucking your head to his chest with the other. "Well if it isn't my strong girl," he murmured slowly, "You'll always be my baby, [Y/N]. Would you like to hold our baby?" You grinned.