One Directon Preferences

Pregnancy tests

Liam: "No, no way, this one’s faulty too." He shook his head as he held the stick with both of his hands. Exhausted, you sighed, flopping on the bed next to him. "Liam, I’ve taken four, I’ve peed more now than I have in all of this week. I’m not pregnant." You groaned, exasperated. "You’re right," He sighed, nodding, throwing the stick in the trash. "Wanna try again?" He winked, rolling on top of you.

Zayn: ”What does it mean if there’s a smiley face?” He yelled over his shoulder to where you were in the bathroom, staring down at the pink little stick in his hands. “Has it got a happy face on it?” You whispered, sticking your head out to look at him. “Yeah, it’s such a cute little—” “Zayn.” You whispered, sucking in your cheeks. “That means positive.” He stopped for a moment to look at the smiley face once more. “Oh, Baby.” He sighed, relieved, dropping the stick and rushing to you.

Louis: ”Well, this one’s a negative.” You pointed out, matter-of-factly. “Well that one’s mine.” He shrugged, as if it was nothing, taking it out of your hands and throwing it in the bin. “Where’s mine?” You asked over your giggles, and he pulled it off of the windowsill where he had hidden it. “What does it say?” You sighed, finally subsiding your laugh. “It’s a plus.” He smiled, looking down at the stick. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

Niall: "You’ve taken one of these before?" He asked you from his spot on the bathroom counter, the tension rising as you two waited for the result of the test. "Niall, relax, once in a while a sexually active girl will miss her period and get a little nervous." You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Jesus, it’s not like I’m hiding kids from you or anything." You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Fuck I’m sorry." He sighed, shaking his head, "This was supposed to be a happy moment for us and I’m being an idiot. But uhm…" He trailed off looking down at the stick next to where he sat. "We’re gonna have a baby."

Harry: ”All this of you weeing makes me have to wee. Hurry up, I drank too much.” He paced aimlessly around the bathtub in the middle of the bathroom, waiting for you to finish peeing so he could go. “Hey! I had a whole giant carton of milk and you had a glass, so you don’t even know pain, Styles.” You defended, holding the stick between your legs. “Don’t you even care about this test?” You asked, and he froze. “Of course, I do.” His gaze softened as he looked down at you. “I want this so bad.” He smiled, taking your free hand in his. “But if I don’t get a toilet soon, I’m afraid for that bathtub.”