5 Seconds Of Summer Preferences

He Finds Out You're Pregnant

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(( A/N: aloha, this is the first preference, so hollah if you wanna, coz im gonna stay up for three more hours sitting at my computer. ))

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Luke:

Your hands shake as you turn over the digital pregnancy test in your hands. You bite your lip when your met with the word 'pregnant,' feeling your body quiver with fear. You hear the door front door close and Luke call out, "I'm home!" You open the cabinet under the basin, and hastily toss the packaging and the test into Luke's shaving things. You quickly flush your urine down the toilet and toss the cup into the trash and exit the bathroom. "Hi," He grins, and places a kiss on your temple. "I'm going to shower, I stink." He says, scrunching his nose. "Take a quick shower, we'll go out to dinner." You tell him, putting your hands on his chest and hoping he wouldn't shave. He notices that you're not making eye contact with him. "Baby, what's wrong?" He softly asks, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. "Nothing, my head just hurts a bit." You lie, forcing a smile. His lip curls up slightly before he leaves you alone in your bedroom and enter the bathroom. You sit down onto your bed, your hands immediately flying to your stomach. You were responsible for another life. You hear the door to under the basin close with a thud, making you cringe. You cradle your head in your hands, knowing he found the piece of plastic that could make or break your relationship. You clench your hair in your hands as you hear the lock of the door click, and the whoosh of air when the door opens. "Y/N," Luke stutters, and you can feel your face heat up. He kneels in front of you, and takes and your hands into his, your head still hanging down. He lets go of one of your hands and pulls out the rest, it looking small in his hands. "A-Are you?" He trips over his words. "Yeah." You whisper quietly, tears flowing down your face. "Baby girl, look at me," He breathes, and you lift up your head, meeting his shocked eyes. "I know you're scared, but I'm going to be here for you and our baby, because I love the both of you. I know we've only been married for a month, but we can handle this. We'll raise this baby together." He assures you, and you can't help but smile. "We are a family now."

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Michael:

You tuck the small black Converse into the tissue paper, and slip it into the lilac gift bag, the size of an Xbox controller. You place it on top of the coffee table and place the bright piece of paper that read, 'Open me, daddy!' Knowing Michael, he'd probably think it was a kink. You grab your hot cup of tea and open the back door and settle into the porch swing. Almost every night, you and Michael would sit on it and look up at the stars while talking about anything and everything. You slip one leg under you and use the other one to rock you back and forth. You hear Michael's car lock in the driveway, the beep filling up the secluded neighborhood, as his key slides into the lock and the door swings open. Through the sliding door screen, you hear the front door slam and Michael call out, "Y/N, I want to cuddle!" You bite your lip, giggling, while you imagine Michael walking through the empty house, peeking in the kitchen for you, then moving onto the living room, to turn the television on so the house wouldn't be silent. But instead of the soft click of the TV, you hear Michael call out, "Y/N, I swear to God, if there's handcuffs in here," He warns, and you have to clamp your hand over your mouth to keep you from exploding with laughter. You hear the rustle of the paper, and a small gasp, whist, presumably, the two shoes and the positive pregnancy test tumble out of the bag and into his lap. Your nervously bite on your nail beds, steadying yourself with your foot, and listening as a load of shuffling comes from inside the house. You lean back into the cushions, the metal creaking, and you watch Michael emerge from behind the screen. His figure awkwardly moves around, and he attempts to open the door. It gets jammed, and he frustratingly yanks it open, a small piece of white glittery tissue in his hand. He walks over to you, and you place the mug onto the ground by your feet, him grabbing your hand and forcing you to stand up, and wrapping his arms around you. He buries his face into your neck, and you can feel his ridiculously wide grin against your skin. You snake your arms around his shoulders, and hold him tightly. He pulls away from you, and sweetly kisses you, his hands cupping your face. He pulls away, breathlessly, and leans his forehead against yours. "I'm gonna be a dad."

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 Ashton:

Sooner or later you'd have to tell Ashton you were pregnant, so you came up with an idea. It was Ashton's turn to do the dishes, so you sneak some small plastic spoons, sippy cup and bowls under the heavy pile of plates and cups. You make sure you can't see the colorful dishes, unless you've lifted almost all of the dishes off. After a messy dinner of lasagna, you pile your dishes into your sink. "I washed them last night, it's your turn today," You tell him, and he groans. "As long as get to cuddle afterwards," He states, and turns the basin on. You tug on his man bun, making him whine. You lean against the counter, wiping at the same spot, as you watch Ashton clean the pots and treys you used to make dinner. His face grimaces when he cleans the sauce off of the dishes. You grab a broom from the closet and begin to sweep, waiting patiently for him to get to the bottom of the pile. He rinses off a plate and places it in the drying rack, as he lifts up the plate that was concealing the baby dishes. He sets the plate onto the other side, and pulls out a sippy cup in one hand, and a handful of spoons in the other. "Y/N, what are these?" He carefully asks, his eyebrows creasing. One of your hands flies to your belly while you say, "You never know when you'll need them," You state, and his eyes widen. You lean the broom against the wall as his lips part, his muscles ripple under his black shirt. "You're, you're," He tries to form a coherent sentence. "I'm pregnant," You blurt, a grin spreading across your face. "You're pregnant?" He murmurs, turning to face you entirely. You eagerly nod, and his face breaks into a smile. "You're pregnant?" He asks, in disbelief. You laugh and nod again. "You're pregnant?" He can't help but repeat himself, as his hands frantically run over his head, smoothing down the pieces of hair that had escaped. "We're gonna have a baby?" He whispers, his eyes glassy, as you looks at you. You swallow the happy lump in your throat and nod. He grabs your hips, and lifts you up, twirling in circles in the spacious kitchen. You both laugh as tears of joy run down your faces. He gently sets you down on your feet, and peppers kisses all over your face. "At least you bought some dishes."

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Calum:

You snuggle into the afghan as you watch TV on the couch. Calum had been a bit distanced from you that day, since it had been 6 months since your miscarriage. He enters the living room and bends down to place a kiss on your forehead as he picks up his phone and keys from the coffee table. "I'm gonna get some take-out, baby, what do you want?" He asks, shoving his belongings into his pocket, while you switch the channels. "Indian," You reply, and his eyebrows furrow. "But you only like Indian when you're pregnant." He says, clearly confused. "I know," You reply, and switch to the Food Network. His eyes widen with the realization, of what you are. "Are you pregnant?" He casually asks, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "Yup," You say, popping the 'p,' like it's no big deal. "Cool, I'll take the crib out of the storage," He says, grabbing his wallet. "Y/N, YOU'RE PREGNANT!" He screams, jumping onto the couch, as you throw the blanket off of your body and jump onto the couch in front of him. "I KNOW!" You yell back, as he grabs your hands. "We have another chance to have a little Hood running around!" He exclaims, running his finger tips through his hair. "I'm so excited!" He squeals, hugging you. "Wow," He breathes pulling away, pure excitement shimmering in his eyes. He places his hands on your small 3 week bump, the baby barely even there. "Y/N, I love you so much," He says, like you don't know it. "I love you too," You grin, and he engulfs you into another hug. He pulls away again, and kisses your cheek. "I can't believe it!" He tells you, his hands placed gently, but firmly on your shoulders. "I can't either," You smile, and he envelopes you into yet another hug. "This baby, will be bugging you shitless, in three years, I promise you," He says, into your hair. Your miscarriage had affected Calum the most. You were 6 months along when you had gotten into a car accident, killing your child. He hadn't let you out of his sights for an entire month, and when you'd gone over to your parents' place, he texted you every five minutes. He was absolutely heartbroken when he put the crib and the changing table into the storage, since he had insisted on not selling them. Then he had gone out, and came back at two in the morning, crying to you at how much he missed your baby. "This baby'll be perfect."

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(( A/N: My mom told me from my and my siblings, I would be the  most likely to lock themselves in their room for a month. ))

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