Harry - ”Harryyyyy…” you groaned, as he swathed you in one of his big sweaters, the one that smells like him on a Sunday afternoon. You had little choice but to let him carry you downstairs to the couch, and wrap you in a cocoon of blankets. He ignored your insistence as he put on your favourite movie, and rushed into the kitchen to make you a cup of tea.
When he returned, he settled behind you on the couch and took you in his arms. “What can I do to make it better, baby girl?”
"You’re doing it," you murmured in reply, too proud to admit just how much he was helping. He dotted your forehead and hairline with soft kisses, murmuring sweet nothing against the feverish heat below the surface of your skin. Eventually, you drifted off, exhausted. He watched you carefully, ready to do anything to make you feel better. Unfortunately, peppering kisses isn’t quite as effective as Panadol and a glass of water.
Liam - he was on the phone to your doctor within the first five minutes of evolution, from a clear-your-throat tickle to a gravelly scratch, to a hoarse cough you couldn’t keep under wraps even if you tried. He set you down at the foot of the bed and searched the room for appropriate attire. He flung a scarf up and a few jackets before he found the one with deep pockets and a hood. He dressed you himself, a wince clouding his features every time you coughed up another lung.
"I’m okay," you tried to convince him, coughing halfway through your words as he led you out to the car, "really, babe, it’s just a… just a l-little cough…"
"Nice try, babe," he smirked as he drove you, one hand clasping yours protectively, "but we’re going to the doctors and that’s that."
Louis - the supermarket ran out of packets of chicken noodle soup within the first day of your fever. The entire world knew what was wrong with you after Louis’s fifth trip to the supermarket for various items he knew you didn’t need but wanted to buy you anyway.
When he returned home again, he immediately rushed to you, fretting over every little thing from the temperature of your forehead to the circulation in your ankles. “Let me run you a bath,” he pleaded, rubbing your flaming cheeks with his thumbs.
"Lou," you groaned, when he patted you into the bathroom to the sound of running water, "it’s just a little fever. Seriously, babe, I love you, but you don’t need to do all of this."
"Yes, I do," he amended with a little cheek, helping you undress. He took your limbs like they were made of glass and helped you into the warm water, perching himself on the edge of the tub and tipping water from a cup over your head, massaging your scalp and rolling his palms around your shoulders soothingly.
Zayn - he wanted you to fall asleep, so that time could elapse like a blink or a click, and you could wake up on the other side of feeling like crap as a result of hammering menstrual cramps. You curled into a ball against his chest and let him carry you up the stairs, his heart beat your own personal soundtrack as he took you to the bedroom. He placed you down and fished for some more Panadol in the nightstand.
"Damn, I left it downstairs," he groaned, leaning down and smiling in the dull light to you. He wrapped the covers around your body, tight enough to make a casing out of you. He shushed your hair back with quiet sounds that only you could hear.
"Go to sleep, love," he murmured to you gently, "I promise, you’ll feel better when you wake up."
Niall - he didn’t quite know what to do when he spun awake in the middle of the night to the sounds of you retching in the ensuite. He groaned at the time it read on his phone before he eased himself out of bed, padding the floor to where you were, hunched and shaking over the toilet bowl. “Oh, shit, babe,” he gasped, leaning down and wrapping himself around you, tugging until you leant back and rested sorely against his chest.
"Sorry," you shook, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "I think it was that chicken at the place we went… isn’t exactly agreeing with me…"
"No, no," Niall brushed your hair back with the tips of his fingers, "don’t be sorry, babe. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Hey, I’m here for you. I’ll make it all better, okay? I’ll make it all better for you."
You tried nodding but another lurch in your stomach brought you to the rim of the toilet again, where you threw up more contents of your innards. Niall reached forwards and held you hair back, rubbing your shoulders and calming you each time you hurled again.
(Hope you guys like this one. If you have any requests, please let me know, guys, and I’ll write them for you!
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One Direction Prefrences and Imagines
FanfictionIf you ever need to escape your life then this is the right place to be! My name is holland and I'll write what you think is cool and want to hear, Have fun and don't forget that maybe one day this could happen!
