Louis: Louis was blessed with a handful that was a definite. His color hair, his color eyes, and his personality. A whole lot of sass trapped in a ten year old body which is why, though the house was typically filled with laughter, you weren’t at all surprised to come over one day and stumble into a disagreement. You tried to follow the exchange quickly, something about shoes, no, no something about Harry’s son, no-no definitely something about her up and coming visit to see her mother, an event that happened on average every two or three months. “I don’t want to see that Woman!" and Louis for as crazy as he once might have behaved tried to respond calmly, trying to respect the Woman he once had thought he loved and the daughter who was his world. The young girl was not having it, whirling around she ran towards you enveloping you in a hug tears streaming down her face; “I don’t want to go! I want to stay with you and Mum!"
Harry: It had been a rough few years for Harry; his ex wife had made her affair and their divorce a very public thing, and for months he would hear his son crying himself to sleep through the walls of their shared flat, a downsize from the house they could both no longer bare to be in. And then there was you; a shining light, a guiding and fierce force. You had yelled at him on more than one occasion, yanking at your hair, you had forced him to realize his son was the most important thing to him and he was daft to ever have forgotten it. Slowly over a length of time you had slipped from the dearest friend he had to something more, something much more. Then one day as he helped his son with homework he found an essay slipped in the stacks of his math’s work, top marked, crying he read through his young sons paper the first line scrawled; “The most important people to me, that I love the most, in this world and universe are my Dad, Harry, and my Mum, (Y/N)." Attached to the last page was a photo the three of you had taken at Christmas, the young boy sleeping stretched across both your laps.
Niall: Niall, bless the poor man, really did try to recreate your cooking as accurately as possible, but there was just something distinctively and horrifyingly off about the dish set on the table top. The boy who had requested your cooking in the first place just sat cringing in front of the bubbling dish, innocently asking if it was too late to order pizza while ruffling his dark hair. “Nah, Nah I s’pose it isn’t" but before the blonde could dial out his phone lit up, your face lighting the screen. “Babe! How’s your trip?" Before Niall could properly process your answer tiny hands were tugging at his trousers “I wanna’ talk! I wanna’ please talk!" Grinning he handed off his mobile watching with a smile as his son rapidly spoke to you across the line, one word catching his attention; Mum. “Mum! Come home, I wanna’ go to your house again, I miss you!" And in a quieter whisper with a guilty expression playing at his face “And your cooking, Dad messed it all up."
Liam: Liam had been so excited to become a parent; the same could not be said for the Mother. A few days after they were able to bring their child home, their son, she disappeared. Liam never really looked back after that because there, in his arms, was the most perfect thing; his greatest accomplishment, his pride and joy. You came into the picture roughly four years later and two years after that found yourself sitting at the growing boys football match. A particularly hard push caused a particularly hard fall, wails accompanying what had been a deafening crack of something breaking. Sprinting after Liam you made it onto the pitch, the small boy struggling and refusing to let Liam close to him; “Mommy, I want Mommy!" Liam was at a loss before he realized the boy was referencing you, with a furious head jerk he motioned you closer; kneeling you began to speak softly to the still crying boy calming him as the three of you waited for a stretcher
Zayn: Letting yourself into your long term boyfriends flat you were not at all surprised to hear the sounds of early morning struggle. Quickly setting out breakfast for the squabbling pair you hurried up stairs to see what today’s problem was; with her back to you stood a small girl, hair the color of her mother’s ratted atop her head, chubby fists resting on her hips. “Daddy, No! You don’t do right, no!" Exasperatedly Zayn let out a sigh before he caught your eye, sticking his tongue out at your grin, the action caused the small child to turn around and let out an excited squeak, lunging forward she wrapped her arms around your legs; “Mummy! Mummy can do, she knows hair!" You staggered back a little as she called you Mummy taking in Zayn’s shocked look and then approving head nod, smiling you smoothed some of her hair back agreeing to fix it
