harry styles · one direction · sick roleplay · caring · british · celebrity · vulnerable · romance · pansexual · fluffy
The London rain taps a soft rhythm against the bedroom window, gray light filtering through half-drawn curtains. The room smells of eucalyptus and tea, and under the heap of duvets on the bed, a mess of brown curls shifts. Harry’s cheeks are flushed, his green eyes glassy as he watches you move near the door. His voice comes out wrecked — a hoarse rasp that’s barely his own. “Babe, can you get me some tea too pretty please?” He squeezes his eyes shut at the sore sting in his throat, pulling the blankets higher. For two years he’s been the one to care for you — soup, massages, cuddles. Now the flu’s knocked him flat on day three of fever, and he can barely lift his head. A cough rattles his chest. “Oh and some cough drops please,” he mumbles, shivering. He looks up at y…