One Direction | Preferences

You're on your period

You’re on your period

A/N: I still don’t understand why this has to happen every month.

Niall: Niall doesn’t have any sisters, and so he’s a bit awkward when it comes to periods, he tends to over compensate, but it’s quite lovely when he turns up on your doorstep with blocks of chocolate and pads and some cheesy movie he picked up in the sales. You’re cramping and in sweatpants and haven’t washed your hair in a while, but he still kisses you and makes you tea and lies on the couch with for hours, playing with your hair and rewarming the heat pack, and it’s quite reassuring to be able to curl into his body and feel him breathe while Mean Girls plays in the background.

Harry: You get it in the middle of the night, and immediately know what’s happened when you wake up, the awful stickiness on your thighs, and roll further into your pillow, close to just bursting into tears. A warm hand slides up your back and Harry’s nose nudges against the back of your neck, “Morning.”  “Harry, I’m so sorry.” “What’s wrong?” “I’ve… got it.” “Got what?” Your words are slightly smothered by the pillow which you’ve completely buried your face in, but in the quiet bedroom they’re very, very audible. “My period.” “Okay?” “Right now.” He kisses your hair, “I’ll get the sheets while you get in the shower.” You relax back against him, “I love you.”

Liam: You’re fidgeting the whole movie, completely paranoid, constantly shifting in your seat and pulling at your jeans until Liam leans over and whispers in your ear. “Is everything okay, babe?” “Yeah, I’m fine, just… uh. Doesn’t matter.” His eyes are illuminated in the light from the screen, and they’re rather concerned. “What is it?” “I’m just, y’know, on my period.” You expect him to shrug and turn back to the film, but instead he leans closer, tangling his fingers with yours, “Do you need to go?” “No, no, I’m fine.” “Nah, come on, we can get this out on DVD later, let’s go home, we’ll get burgers on the way.” You beam at him.

Louis: You’ve managed to stand with your back to a wall in the room, even though you’ve already convinced yourself that everyone knows you’ve bled through and that there’s a stain on your jeans. Louis loops a finger into your belt loop, lips at your ear as he hands you his black hoodie. “Tie that around your waist and I’ll walk behind you.” You grab the jacket like it’s going to save your life and knot it around your hips before looking up to find him smiling at you, holding a bar of chocolate. “There’s a vending machine in the hallway.” “You’re amazing.” He grins, “I know.”

Zayn: Zayn rubs your stomach and makes peppermint tea and Google’s yoga that will ease your cramps. You just end up kissing him over and over again because he’s too lovely for his own good and he looks gorgeous in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, peering at his laptop screen while researching tips to help the cramping.  He listens to your complaining and warms you up with his own body, curled around you on the couch and running his hands through your hair, sitting through Keeping Up With Kardashians just because he wants you to feel better.