One Directon Preferences

You're famous and he gets you pregnant (Zayn)

Zayn: You were at an after party, talking with one of your good friends, Emma Stone. It was late, and everyone had been drinking, so you were far past drunk. You laughed at something Emma said, you mumble “I’m gonna go get a drink,” Before stumbling up to the bar and ordering a drink. While waiting, you felt as if someone was staring at you, so you turned your head, noticing the hazel eyes of Zayn Malik, he smirked once chatching your gaze. Turning back around, you took your drink from the barman and turned, walking towards the black haired popstar. “Hey.” You smiled, taking a sip from the glass in your hand. “Hey.” He repeated, his eyes scanning over your body, “You look, hot.” His bottom lip caught between his teeth as you giggled. “Let’s dance!” You happily say, grabbing his hand and tugging him further from the bar, letting his hand fall as you started dancing, Zayn joining in. His hands landed on your waist, sliding down to your bum every so often. The time went by quickly, and before you knew it, it was two in the morning and Zayn had your hand in his pulling you towards a car, paparazzi continuing to snap pictures as you both climbed in the back. His hand rested on your bare knee, slowly creeping up your thigh towards the end of your dress. When the car stopped, Zayn helped you out of the car, both of you stumbling up to his flat. As soon as the door closed, he had you pinned against the wall, his lips on yours, his hands roaming your body. Lifting you, he carried you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut. Later that morning, you woke up with a killer headache. Realising you were in a different bedroom, you almost had a heart attack when you saw someone lying next to you. Quickly peeking under the sheet and discovering you were naked, and groaned. Slipping out of the bed carefully, you put on what you had been wearing the night before, lifting your heels and walking to the bathroom, splashing water on your face before walking to the kitchen where you slipped your heels on and looked for a pen and paper, quickly and messily scribbling ‘Zayn? Thanks for last night, I think. I left before you woke, see you around - Y/N xx’ leaving the paper on his kitchen counter, you quickly left, calling a taxi to take you back to your flat, once home, you took some pain killers and lay in bed, trying to remember the previous night, but failing. You must have been really drunk. You never noticed anything was off, carrying on with your life, going to interviews, going to auditions, you were cast as lead for a horror. But around five weeks later, when you were sick, all day, for the next week, your friend insisted on taking you to the doctor to see what was wrong with you, and you agreed. After having some tests done, your doctor told you she would call within the next week, so you went back to life again, waiting on the phone call from your doctor. “Your phone!” You heard your friend yell. “Got it!” You called back, running and grabbing your phone. “Hi.” You answered. “Hey, it’s Zayn.” You heard through the phone. “Oh, right. Hey.” You mumbled. You heard him clear his throat before continuing to talk, “I was, um wondering if you’d want to go on a date sometime?” “Really?” You asked. “Yeah. I mean, what happened and everything, and i do like you, so yeah.” “Well, then yeah.” You both agreed on a date and time before hanging up. The date was next saturday. A few days later, you recieved a call from your doctor, telling you the answer as to why you were being sick, “You are pregnant.” You hung up, not answering her. How could you be pregnant? You were only twenty! Twenty! And what made things a whole lot more complicated was, the dad is Zayn Malik. And it won’t be long until the press find out when your belly starts growing, oh what fun they’re going to have.