One Direction | Preferences

He Feels The Baby Kick For The First Time

He Feels The Baby Kick For The First Time

A/N: I love pregnancy bumps. They’re so sweet. Nina in Offspring is pregnant at the moment. If anyone else watches that show please come and tell me, I need to freak out with you over that. Love you guys xx

Niall: Your stomach is Niall’s favourite part of your body at the moment, his fingers constantly trailing across it as he passes you, wrapping his arms around your waist, hands splaying over the bump. So when your baby kicks for the first time, a gentle fluttering against the inside of your belly, Niall’s within reaching distance as you jerk up from where you’re lying on the couch. “Niall! Look, come here, feel it. I think it’s kicking!” His palms are warm, lip trapped between his teeth as the two of you wait, “There, did you feel it?” “Yeah,” he breathes, grinning at you, “Yeah, I can feel it.” 

Harry: Harry’s absentmindedly rubbing your stomach while you watch TV, dragging his knuckles over the curve, kneading it gently, tracing words and patterns as the program plays on, flashing light around the dark living room. “Hey,” you murmur, voice slightly muffled by the pillow your face is pressed against, “She’s kicking.” “What?” You grab his hand, guiding it into place at the top of your abdomen where your baby is currently pummelling the inside of your body. “There, just, press in, like that. Yeah. Feel it?” His mouth falls open, face tilting up to look at you, his cheeks flushed with happiness as he feels his daughter move for the first time.

Liam: Liam’s singing quietly to you, a soothing, slow melody that manages to distract you from your aching back, his chest rising and falling beneath your hand, matching his even breaths with your own as you slowly fall asleep. “Hey,” you breathe, lips against his shoulder, “Hey, Liam.” “Yeah?” You fumble for his hand, guiding it down to to your stomach and pressing his palm in, “He’s kicking. Can you feel that? He’s kicking, he likes your voice.” You feel Liam’s intake of breath, his fingers digging gently into your abdomen, before your child moves again, pressing back into Liam’s hand. He laughs, heavy and breathless, grinning at you as he rolls onto his side, “Hey little baby, I love you very much.” 

Louis: You’re half asleep, eyelids heavy as you watch Louis sleep, the occasional light from a passing car falling through the window and dragging over his face, throwing shadows and highlighting features. Your hand is resting at the bottom of your bump, cupped around the curve, and your muscles are just relaxing, sinking further into the mattress, Louis’ slow, even breathing lulling you into sleep, when there’s a soft pressure against the inside of your stomach, gone as quick as it comes. Your lips part, sucking in a sharp breath, and then it happens again, and again, the realisation that your baby is kicking and moving around in you shocking you into silence, before you quickly shake Louis awake. “Louis, Lou. Wake up. Babe, Tomlinson, Louis.” He’s bleary and groggy, but as soon as you begin pressing his hands into your abdomen, he’s wide awake, eyes blinking open, a grin splitting his face as the small kicks vibrate up to his palm. “Oh, wow,” he breathes, and you smile at him, happy tears sparkling in your eyes, “That’s – That’s our baby,” he mumbles, leaning down to press his lips to your stomach, “Hi, baby. It’s Daddy.”

Zayn: You get up one morning, groaning quietly as you stretch, padding quietly across the floor so as not to wake Zayn, who’s still wrapped up  in the covers snoozing away, the morning sunlight splashing over his skin. You’re barely a metre from the bathroom when you freeze, both hands immediately moving to clutch the small bump protruding from your torso. You hold your breath, pressing your hands in, and there it is again, a light thud against you, the gentle fluttering of your child moving around. “Zayn, Zayn! Wake up!” You can hear him stirring, there’s a muffled ‘whazgoinon’ and then his footsteps are hurrying across the floorboards towards you. “What, what happened? Are you in pain? Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital?” “No, Zayn, look, come here.” You grab his hands, pressing them against your stomach, your shirt rolled up, “Can you feel that?” “Feel what?” You wait a second. “There, right there, can you feel it?” “Yeah,” he grins, big hands smoothing over your abdomen, “Yeah, I can feel it, oh my god, (Y/N), I can feel it.”