PERIODS — harry lewis
pairing: harry lewis x fem!reader
warnings: periods… NOT REALLY A WARNING BUT YKKK, swearing, suggestive-ness, medication
Whoever said people your age couldn’t have sleepovers, could go and do one—because you absolutely fucking could, you and Talia proving said notion right now; your boys were off again, somewhere abroad for a sidemen shoot and leaving you and your best friend alone. Instead of getting all weepy and mopey (over a boy, never you) you and her decided to make the most out of the lack of testosterone—after you’d dropped your boyfriend off at the airport, all innocent smiles and pretty fluttering lashes, you’d zoomed off (probably breaking several speed limits) to get to your best friends new home.
When you got there, she’d opened the door with an excited screech despite expecting you and you returned it despite knowing she’d been the one to open the door. After of long embrace where she didn’t wanna let you go, you finally convinced her with the promised of pizza and brownies. Hauling your overnight bag in, you’d began your girly night—music booming, comfy clothes on, gossip upon gossip and so many laughs your whole body was in tatters as you made pizzas and brownies (admittedly, hers were better but she was literally Mario’s second cousin, it’s to be expected)
Food in hands and smiles never leaving your faces, you’d taken off into a race into a race for the living room (you won, obviously) and began your evening of movie watching—from 10 things i hate about you to It, then legally blonde and Tangled, and many more, . . .you had quite the night. However both of your highlights was when you discovered you both started your cycles on that particular day—before your boyfriends had left and around basically the same times: it had you both in tear inducing laughter for two minutes. You’d ended up taking a Polaroid of you both grinning while holding up Flow (the period tracker app) and showing you both having the exact same cycles.
Twins.
That was yesterday—now you were both lying in a miserable heap of pain and exhaustion in Talia’s king size bed, hot water bottles on your abdomens and remaining snacks being shovelled into your mouths as you both snuggled and occupied yourselves on your phones.
You smiled slightly when your boyfriends name popped up over TikTok but grimaced afterwards as your stomach turned horribly.
harry🤍
gd mornin xx yu okay luv ?
me
you’re actually illiterate
harry🤍
and you can’t punctuate, we all have are own flaws. anyway i hope ur good, we’re landing at 3, want me to pick u up anything?
You grinned wider, deciding to piss about.
me
yeah actually can you get me some jumbo tampons!! thank youuu x
harry🤍
what. they do JUMBO? i mean thats, at least their being inclusive. good on em 👍 wait bloody hell love, you’re on again already? swear i don’t know how you still have blood in ya
me
yeah it happens to be a monthly thing, harry. 😄😄😄😄😄 also im with my gf so you might have to whisk me away before me elope xxxxx
harry🤍
she’d get you a shitty ring anyway i’ll get in simons lift home then and you can drop us off. … i love you, gotta go, see you soon gorgeous
me
love you too smelly 😜
You looked over at Talia at, miraculously, the same time she looked up at you and when she wordlessly showed you her phone, showcasing messages of her asking Simon for XXL pads, you gasped laughingly and showed her your messages to Harry. She made a shocked face before meeting your eye and you both burst out laughing, only to groan as you ached all fucking over.
“I hate being a women.”
It was now half two and while Talia was effectively making your day better—you both were still in immense pain. You’d migrated to every living room (you loved it so much, you could cry) and both had a sofa to yourself, Mushu (their adorable dog) was nipping at some toy from where he was sat by the telly. You both were on your phones for the most part, last nights episode of Love Island that you’d absently recorded now playing on the TV as you both munched away on the breakfast Talia got delivered—McDonald’s breakfast for you and she had a spiced cheesy omelette from this little breakfast place.
“When do you think Harrys gonna ask. .?” Talia looked at you from her place on the sofa, wiggling her ringed finger mischievously with a glittering smile, one hand still firmly against her stomach.
“Probably never.”
“Bullshit!” She shot back instantly, sitting up and pointing firmly in your direction as she ignored the pain she was in in favour of reassuring you. “Babe, you have not seen the way that man looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. Like, seriously, he has literal heart eyes for you and don’t even get me started on how he speaks about you. It’s like your the best thing in this entire world to him, really. Like you’re some kinda goddess or somethin’ he always looks so awestruck by you.”
“. .probably cause I cook him dinner.” You offered with a shrug, smiling lopsidedly, and Talia snorted with a head shake.
“Or you are his dinner.”
“I mean, he does—“
“Ah! WAIT, NO. Stop, no more, please.”
You grinned at her, sparing a wink before cooing at Mushu happily and urging him to jump up on you, which he did. Your entire demeanour seemed to soften as you wrapped your arms around the large grey ball of fluff.
“He’ll probably ask you soon.”
“Natalia.” You threw her a mock serious look and she put her hands up in a surrender motion, finding herself all too funny.
“What—have you seen you?” Talia retorted, faking a dreamy sigh as she readjusted herself on the plush material of her sofa. “I’d kiss you, marry you and fuck you. Repeatedly.”
“Miss Mar. . .” You jokingly trailed off.
“Have my babies?”
“I thought you’d never ask!”
“We should really do this more often.” Talia pouted at you, friendly love bright in her irises as she pulled her blanket more around her body. “I miss hanging with you, sexy bum.”
“Miss you more, baby cakes.” You winked at her dramatically, mouth falling open just like Fred Weasley and she giggled back at you, snapping a candid photo.
“Speaking of babies—“
“NATALIA HADDOCK.”
Approaching four o’clock was when your boyfriends finally rolled up—you and Talia didn’t actually notice at first, you were both laying down on the living room floor with Mushu next to you and a mediation video on the large screen, giggles slipping past your lips even as you attempted to be quiet. You would’ve sat up but considering your cramps. . .‘twas a no go.
“Keep your fake lips shut, Cruella.”
Talia squawked in offence at your comment but kept her eyes shut for the purpose of mediation, blindly lifting a manicured hand to swat at you.
In that moment, your boyfriends both walked through the door, trading odd looks at the silence in the home (if there was anything you and Talia were together, it was not silent). Simon lead Harry through the house, more confused than anything to where his fiancé was but when they heard whooshing sounds from the living room, they both stopped uncertainly.
Harry quickly picked up a random umbrella from where they were sat, just in case.
However, when you hesitantly stalked into the living room they didn’t expect to see both of their girlfriends laying sprawled across the floor in starfish position with a mediation video playing on the large TV. They both paused, trying to repress their amusement and Harry instantly got out his phone—zooming into you to take some photos.
“Feeling zen, yet?” Simon inquired.
“So zen.” You both confirmed, simultaneously.
There was silence for no more than a second before you and Talia both let out startled exclamations and sat up straight—immediately groaning out in pain after as your stomach cramped and ached (day 2 was your personal worst day for pain/cramps).
“Woah. Woah, woah.” Simon paused at the in sync groans of pain, “listen. . .I know you both have like, interlinked emotions but please don’t tell me you can feel what the other feels?!”
“Boy.” Talia gave him a deadpan stare.
“Help.” You urged your boyfriend, reaching out your hands expectantly and he rolled his eyes fondly as he walked over to you, large hands taking your smaller ones in his own and he tugged you up from the ground, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “Hey stranger.”
“Hey.” Harry mumbled back, grinning widely as he pulled you flush against him, digging his head endearingly into the crook of your neck and leaving two swift kisses, your sweet aroma surrounding him and clouding his thoughts as you hummed, running your fingers through his short hair.
“No PDA in my house!” Simon exclaimed.
“Shush,” Talia tutted—unimpressed with her fiancé, “don’t listen to him. Harry, kiss my girl all you want just. . nothing more, preferably.”
“She’s not your girl.”
“Am I not?” You played clueless, faking a confused look at him before going to step over to your best friend, only for him to tug you back against him, large, muscled arms wrapping around your front to hold you back.
“Disgusting.” Simon blanched. “Do that in your own home, please.”
You and Talia both rolled your eyes in sync: you turned your head to smile up at your boyfriend, pressing a loving peck to his soft lips and then his bicep before gently tugging his arms off you, getting ready to say bye to your friends.
“Bye beautiful.” Talia grinned, her arms coming to wrap around you with a careful tightness. “I love you, let me know if you need anything—also, we should really really do this again soon. I love spending time with you.”
Feeling your heart warm, you smiled back at her genuinely. “I love spending time with you too, Lia. Next time we can make lasagna and cupcakes. . .the Tom and Jerry ones.”
Talia squealed slightly, pulling away from your hug to press kisses to both your cheeks and then your forehead.
“You’re the best. Miss ya’ already.”
“Missing you more.”
A few minutes later, you and Harry were finally out of the mini-mar household. Your boyfriend had finally resigned to carrying you when you had fully stopped walking and hunched over slightly in pain from your cramps—he’d sighed, like the tired boyfriend he was, then gently picked you up bridal style and ignored Talia’s obnoxious awes and how she took several pictures.
(She totally didn’t put them on her story)
“Spoiled princess, ‘s what you are.” Harry shook his head jokingly as he carefully put you down in the passenger side of your own car that he was driving cause you were in pain.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
He grinned at you, looking up through his lashes as he did your seatbelt for you, one of his large arms caging you in and the the other free arm reaching over your lower half to tug the seatbelt tighter. He looked similar to an angel in that moment—sun illuminating his features, those fucking blue eyes you were a sucker for and you felt a trail of sparks on the skin his hand purposefully brushed over.
“That tight enough?” Harry inquired, cheekily.
“So tight.” You responded with a snicker of your own and he rolled his eyes at you, tugging a strand of your hair briefly and you feigned a dramatic wince as he left you, shutting the door to your side and climbing in the drivers side.
You looked over, rolling down your window readily as you knew what was coming—when your car started to take off, Talia opened up the window closest to the driveway, popping out her head with a gorgeous gleaming smile.
“BYE BYE BEAUTIFUL, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON!”
“BYE GORGEOUS—SAME GOES FOR YOU, CALL ME!”
As you did the ‘call me’ symbol with your hand and gave her a dramatic wink, she giggled before ducking her head back indoors.
“Might as well date her.”
“Might just, y’know.” You smiled at him sweetly, turning on the radio for background noise like you always did, “Smells a lot than my current partner anyway?”
“He can’t be that bad!”
“No, really, he stinks of piss.”
“I beg you fu—“
He cut himself off, grin faltering as he heard you wince in pain, frowning softly as he looked over at you.
“Hanging in there alright?”
“Mhm.” You hummed, smiling tensely.
“I got you something.” Harry mentioned, peering over at you and when he saw you looking him with that adorably confused look, he nudged his head backwards and your eyes followed—landing on the Tesco bag in the backseat.
“My jumbo tampons?” You cackled to yourself.
“No—I did look though—“ Your laughter increased in volume, ignoring the aching pain overcoming you as best you could, “Oh—Oh. I see now, they aren’t a thing. You played me.”
“What? No, never.”
“I smell deceit.”
“I smell piss. Oh, wait, it’s just you.”
You giggled at yourself and while he tried to playfully glare at you, he couldn’t quite keep his smile at bay as he stared at you.
Curiously, you reach behind you and tug the Tesco bag from its space in the back, lugging it into your lap and opening it up—your mouth immediately pops open in an awww when you take in the two sets of cupcakes, your favourite chocolate bars, the sanitary products and some pain medication.
“Harry. .”
“Don’t mention it, I beg.” A sheepish crimson blush coats his pale cheeks at your tone and your evident heart eyes. Jesus Christ, were you pretty. He was so lucky to be able to call you his, that much he knew for sure.
“Thanks, handsome.”
“Yeah, yeah anytime man.”
You arch a brow.
“Anytime, love.” Harry corrects, flashing you an equal parts amused and sarcastic smile as you nod your approval to the changing pet name.
When you finally arrive back at your apartment complex—Harry’s already out of his side of the car as soon as it stops, and then he goes over to you, opening your door and looking down at you. He lets at a dramatic heaving sigh at your doe eyed look, scolding his skin for flushing and heart for picking up.
Effortlessly, he takes the bag off your hands with one hand and pulls you from the car with the other, once you’re out the car he lifts you up easily with one arm and you wrap your legs around his hips, arms around his neck.
“Hi.” You mumble, grinning mischievously as your acrylics scratch at his beard.
“My pretty troublemaker.” Harry huffs affectionately, squinting down at your bright smile fuelled by mischief. “Don’t you dare bring attention to us, this is embarrassing enough.” He nearly whines.
You merely smile, a kiss to his cheek to tide over his anxieties.
The walk was going pretty smoothly, but as soon as Harry stepped foot into the elevator, another set of footsteps followed and his eyes shut miserably, leaning down and sighing into your neck hopelessly.
“Hi Effie!” You immediately perk up at the sight of the older woman—Effie was this sweetheart fifty six year old who lived on the floor below you and Harry, a vast lover of plants and animals with a hatred for men (you loved her, Harry was scared of her).
Harry barely refrains for niping at the soft skin of your neck in reprimand. Of bloody course.
“Hello dearie.” The older woman, hair a dyed purple shade and silver septum hanging from her button nose, greets you with a calm smile. Effie was evidently unfazed by the scene in front of her—if anything, she was proud that you were putting your man to work. “How are you today?”
“Oh I’m grand, Ef.” You smiled so charmingly that as Harry stared down at you, he almost forgot he was even supposed to be annoyed. “How are you? How’s Tia, I miss her!”
“I’m well, thank you, dearie. Tia misses you too, I assure you. Perhaps you come down tonight, I can bake us some cookies just how you like them.”
Harry paused, bewildered. Did his girlfriend just get hit on by a grandma?!
“I—“
Before you could even get a word out, the elevator dinged open to your floor and Harry wasted now time practically sprinting out with his arms possessively entangled around your frame; you quickly exclaimed a startled ‘bye Effie’ over your boyfriends shoulder before the elevator doors shut.
You quickly distracted yourself with how you could feel your boyfriends muscular biceps as he held you up, your acrylics took to touching and tracing them as he bounced you up further on his hip. You closed your eyes, leaning further into him and humming at the delightful scent of his cologne, the soothing vibrations of his body as he quietly chatted away helping to dull the aches in your own body.
“You alright there, y/n?”
“Never been better.” You smiled up at him and he gives you an amused one back, kissing your forehead softly as he finally opens the door to your shared apartment—once inside, he readily manoeuvres the both of you to the sofa where he carefully places you down, handing you the bag of food and your favourite blanket he spots on the lone armchair. “Thank youuu.”
“Spoiled princess.” He names again, but the smile on his face is enough to melt you despite his words.
Harry then goes into the kitchen as you try and adjust on the sofa more comfortably, face screwing up as a particularly harsh pain washes through you—your abdomen clenching. To distract yourself, you search through the Tesco bag and smile to yourself as you take out the first batch of muffins.
You mindlessly click onto WhatsApp, taking a photo of the bag of goodies and sending it to the girls groupchat with a little ‘make your men do this for you, pretty ladies’ and instantly being met with gushing from them all.
“Showing off my expert shopping skills?”
You startle—gaze flickering to your boyfriend who smiles at you, that smile he saves just for you and it makes you feel so special and warm every time. Your eyes dart over him, noticing the hot water bottle he now clutches (you love that hot water bottle—it’s got this absolutely adorable cover of a lama).
Fucking hormones, you think, as you feel a wave of emotion hit you at how much he’s done for you.
“Hey,” Harry noticed the quivering frown you now adopted and internally panicked, did I do something? Hot water bottle in hand, he hurried towards you, kneeling down on the floor beside where you were laying and twirling a pierce of your hair around his finger. “Hey. What’s wrong, love, hm? You in pain?”
“Yeah.” You answer him shakily, that’s not why your suddenly upset. “I love you.”
If he’s confused—he doesn’t show it, he merely smiles at you comfortingly, leaning in to gently press a kiss to your lips.
“I love you more.”
You smile up at him and his face softens completely at you—he’s so fucking in love. And yes, these thoughts of his are incredibly soppy, but, he couldn’t help it. The girl of his dreams, the love of his life, the prettiest person in the world, was currently staring at him like he hung the moon and the stars. . . he’d never tire of your beautiful face, your radiant smile that flustered him every damn time.
When you move so he can slide in behind you, he eagerly takes the invitation. He slots in behind you on the sofa, pulling you atop him with your back against his chest; he takes the hot water bottle, your favourite one, and carefully moves up your shirt before pressing it against your lower stomach and keeping his hands there to hold it in place, pressing a thoughtless yet meaningful kiss to the side of your head and you snuggle back into him.
“Oi, give me a bite.”
“Fuck off, it’s my scran.”
“Yeah—and who’s card did it make a dent in?”
“Our card, handsome.”
“. . . Spoiled princess.”
And that’s how you spend most of the rest of your day—intertwined limbs, goofy grins, soft kisses and joking insults.
(He’s never been more in love)
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