Luke: You are woken up in the early hours of the morning-just as the sun is starting to rise-by your stomach twisting horribly, gasping, you stumble out of bed, but your foot gets caught in the sheets and you fall to the floor, waking up Luke, you try to stop it, but suddenly you throw up all over the hardwood floor, your eyes watering and your limbs trembling "(Y/N)!" Luke is by your side in a flash, scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom, where you kneel over the toilet, retching again "oh baby girl I'm so sorry" he murmurs, holding your hair back, his warm hands rub over your back and he kisses your shoulder "no I'm sorry-I made such a mess" you gulp, coughing into the toilet bowl "don't worry about that, I'll clean it up. But are you okay? Is the baby hurt?" He asks, his voice laced with worry "we're fine" you mumble, slowly standing up, you wash your face in the sink and rinse out your mouth "I'm really sorry Luke, I didn't mean to throw up on the floor, I just tripped a-" "baby girl I told you not to worry, I'll clean it up, I don't mind. Now let's get you back into bed okay?" He murmurs, steering you back to the bed, he lays you down a lifts up your top, running his fingers over your small bump, his blue eyes darting over your skin, you whimper as he touches your left hip and he sighs "it feels a bit swollen here-you might get a bruise" he says gently, he kisses your stomach and pulls your shirt back down "please be more careful next time, and try and wake me so I can help okay? I would much rather you stay in bed and throw up all over me than be reckless and end up hurting yourself or the baby" he whispers, kissing your forehead before standing to go and clean up the mess.
Calum: "Here babe drink this" Calum cooes, handing you a glass of water, he touches his palm to your forehead, frowning "I think your temperature is getting higher" he mumbles, you hum, enjoying the feel of his cool fingers against your boiling skin "drink up, you're dehydrated sweetie" he takes the water from you and holds it to your lips, making sure you drink all of it "okay, let's wait a bit and see if you can keep that down" he says softly, he kisses your cheek and your stomach "behave for mommy okay? She's going through a lot for you" he whispers before standing and fetching a damp dishcloth for your forehead, but as he comes back, you are overwhelmed with a wave of nausea, and you grab the bucket at your bedside, throwing up the meager glass of water as well as a cracker from earlier "I'm sorry" you croak, your head still dangling over the bucket "oh baby, this isn't your fault" Calum murmurs, sitting next to you, he sets the bucket on the floor and wraps his arms around you "it's not your fault at all" he eases you onto the bed and sets the dishcloth over your forehead, his thumb rubbing over your cheek "I'm going to call the doctor okay?" You try to get some rest" he suggests, you nod and he gives you a small smile.
Ashton: "Can you smell that? Like roses or something" you mutter, rubbing your large bump "no why?" Ashton asks, you shake your head and look down, but as the smell grows stronger, you leap to your feet and dash to the downstairs bathroom, your whole breakfast hurtling up your throat. Ashton is instantly beside you, holding your hair out of your face and rubbing your back "baby girl are you okay?" You nod, panting, and he helps you up "wanna go upstairs?" He asks, you nod again and he lifts you up gently, carrying you back to bed "thanks" you croak as he settles you under the covers, and as he heads downstairs to get you a sandwich, he spots the offending scent; the rose bush all the way at the bottom of your neighbour's garden has started blooming.
Michael: Michael has formed a little camp in the bathroom for the both of you, with sleeping bags and pillows and a stash of snacks; healthy stuff like carrot sticks for you, and junk food for him. But as he opens up a pack of cheese and onion crisps, you gag, scrambling to the toilet, a mess of carrots, bananas, yoghurt, and water coming up your throat. Michael swears under his breath and moves over to you, holding your hair out of your face "it's okay baby" he murmurs, his fingertips stroking your back "the chips-get the fucking chips out" you groan, resting your forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet rim, he jumps to his feet, grabbing the bag of crisps and taking them out of the room. Once the smell fades you sit back and sigh, exhausted; suddenly your eye catches Michael's stash of sweets, and since he's out of the room you grab an open pack of mini marshmallows, stuffing as many as you can into your mouth and moaning at the incredible flavour "hey hey hey what are you doing?" Michael laughs, snatching the pack from your hands "do you want our baby to be a cyclops or something? Cause I'm telling ya, marshmallows contain all sorts of chemicals and shit" you look up at him guiltily, unable to talk through your mouth full of marshmallows, he shakes his head, laughing to himself "crisps you can't take, but marshmallows you like?" he teases, kissing your cheek.
