#i woke up this morning feeling so dizzy and lightheaded and all i want is to be carried out into the garden to see the sun one last time

[r7inyz]

im not at school today because i feel like a victorian child dying from scarlet fever so have my art class doodles from the past few weeks 😁😁😁😁😁😁

[salty-autistic-writer]

Snippet in which Tommy wakes up with his head on Evan's chest.

~

Warm.

Eyes closed, Tommy still vacillates between sleep and awareness but he does notice that he’s warm. He’s always hated being cold so waking up like this is nice. The sensation doesn’t stem from the sunbeams falling through the windows and brightening up the room though. No, he’s basking in the warmth of another body. His boyfriend’s body.

His boyfriend. Who is in bed with him, running his fingers through Tommy’s hair in a gentle steady rhythm. It feels so good, it gives Tommy tingles and a part of him wants to lean into the caress like an oversized touch-starved cat.

For a hazy confused moment, he doesn’t even want to open his eyes at all. What if this is just the remnant of a dream? Wishful thinking? Is his imagination playing tricks on his mind?

But with sleep fading, Tommy starts to feel more. Vague blurry sensations form into something concrete. Something real.

Evan’s warmth and familiar scent are all around him. Tommy can hear the vibrating echo of his steady heartbeat and realizes he has his head on Evan’s chest. That’s definitely a new way of waking up. He opens his eyes and blinks into the bright light of the late morning sun. Right. It’s a free weekend. No alarm clock. No work. No calls. Just them.

Evan is laying on his back, head propped up against a pillow, staring at something on his phone while he continues to play with Tommy’s hair. His own curls are tousled and his mouth is slightly open, his eyes having that laser-focused expression that they always get when Evan discovers something captivating.

“What are you looking at?” Tommy mutters and clears his throat, voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

“Hey, morning to you,” Evan says, smiling down at him. “I was trying to find the best hill for what we planned for tomorrow.”

Right. The hike. A hike with a picnic. Tommy's heart jumps through another enthusiastic loop.

“I want a nice hill,” Evan explains seriously. “With a nice view. And I still have to make a list of what we have to bring. Sunscreen, mosquito spray, bandaids and bandages just in case, hiking socks … Wait. Do you even have proper hiking socks? They prevent your feet from getting sweaty and developing blisters.”

“Yeah, I do have proper hiking socks,” Tommy says, mildly amused. He loves it when Evan goes into full organizing mode.

Tommy raises his head a little, blinking at the dark wet spot he left on Evan’s shirt. “I drooled on your chest,” he states, a bit embarrassed.

Evan chuckles. “Yeah, you woke up like an hour ago, muttered something about too cold, then snuggled up against me, pressed your cold toes into my legs and put your head on my chest. After that, you went back to sleep and started to snore. It was cute.”

Tommy’s breath hitches.

Cute.

Huh.

Evan just called him cute. No one called him cute before. Tommy doesn’t know what to say. Or how to breathe. He’s drowning in the fuzzy sensation of being in love. God. He really got it bad. This man stumbled into his life and into his helicopter out of nowhere and managed to steal Tommy’s whole damn damaged heart in the process.

“Babe. Are you okay?” Evan asks, still smiling, but his brows creasing into a subtle frown.

Tommy’s breath starts to run away from him.

Babe. Cute. Are you okay. Waking up on Evan’s chest. Evan’s fingers playing with his hair. Evan watching him sleep.

It’s so much. It’s too much. It’s too good. Good things don’t last. People leave. They leave and all that stays is the cold. Tommy can’t breathe. It’s almost as if the air got sucked out of the room.

He starts to feel lightheaded and lost. A boat on the ocean, thrown around by invisible forces. But then, Evan is there, wrapping his arms around Tommy and whispering, “Breathe. You got to breathe, babe.”

Tommy tries. He inhales shakily, listens to Evan’s breaths and tries to match them. It works. He can breathe again and the dizziness fades. But now he’s embarrassed … Why can’t he spend a morning in bed with his boyfriend without having some kind of panic attack about stupid abandonment issues?

Evan puts his hand on Tommy’s chest, feeling for his heart. “You want to tell me what this was about?”

Tommy sighs. “I was just a little overwhelmed. This is … It’s nice. I like it. It makes me happy. But my stupid mind starts to overthink and I end up being scared I will lose this. You.”

Because you could disappear in so many different ways … A fight. A breakup. An accident. A call gone bad. An illness. Something we can't fight. Something we can’t defeat.

“I have those overthink-moments too,” Evan says quietly. “We’ve been through a lot of loss. Guess our minds are so used to losing people and things, that they hesitate to trust this. I can’t promise you that nothing will ever happen to any of us. But I promise you I will always try my best to come back here. Come back to you. And since we are not able to know the future, maybe we can focus on the moment. Because this morning is a moment I really love.”

“I love it too,” Tommy says, turning to face Evan, and meeting his beautiful eyes. He can see himself inside them. Maybe he can allow himself to be like Evan sees him. He definitely can ask for something he wants. “Can we stay in bed a little longer?”

“Oh, don't worry, I’m not getting up any time soon,” Evan says with a chuckle. “I sent you like 30 Instagram Reels while you were snoring and drooling on my chest. You want to watch them now?”

Tommy smiles. “Yeah, sure.”

He puts his head back on Evan’s chest and they watch the Reels, laughing together. Later, they shower together, have breakfast together, and go to buy a picnic blanket together. When they look around in the shop, Evan takes Tommy's hand and it's such a subtle yet heart-rate-elevating thing. An anchor. It soothes Tommy's stormy mind and makes it trust the happiness a little more. Piece by piece. Step by step.

They do find and buy their own picnic blanket. It makes them ridiculously happy.

A moment saved in their memories.

[mortiskiller]

Midnight Snack: Funnel Feeding

The text for my latest audio, it's fun to heat what I leave out or add in 🤣

My eyes opened as my belly grumbled and shook me awake. My arms felt heavy as I reached for my phone screen down on my belly, my fingers stopped just short. My back ached from holding my body up this long. With one more grunt I grabbed my phone, sending shock waves through my belly. In the dim moonlight of the bedroom, I could see how immense I was. A literal ocean of lard, rolling and dipping as I took each breath. My stomach rumbled again, pain winced across my face as hunger pains shoot through my abdomen. Pudgy fingers unlocked my phone and typed a message to my feeder. U up? I need a midnight snack. 

I waited for a response, my heart racing with anticipation. My feeder was the only one who truly understood me and my insatiable hunger. He knew how to push my body to its limits and how to satisfy my every craving. I lay there in the darkness, feeling my belly rumble and grumble with hunger. The minutes ticked by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity as I waited for his response.

Finally, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was him. My heart skipped a beat as I read his response. "I'm up, baby. What do you want to eat?" I grinned to myself, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Anything but a lot, so hungry."

After a little while he arrived. He turned on the bedroom light on its lowest setting. I can see four large pitchers filled with thick shake on a trolley. No words are said as he brings the trolley over to my side of the bed. He grabs the funnel and moves closer to put it on me. “Thanks.” I whisper. He reacts by smiling. He puts a finger on my chin and slightly pushes down to signal for me to open my mouth. The mouthpiece enters my mouth and secures the funnel at the back of my head. I barely get room to adjust before the first mouthfuls of shake flow into my mouth and straight down my throat. I chug, not even getting time to breath. Pitcher after pitcher steadily yet quickly empty into my ever-growing body. It filled me up to where my stomach started to churn and scream from being pumped full of nothing but pure fat and sugar.

I moaned in pleasure as the thick shake flowed into my mouth and down my throat. My feeder knew just how to satisfy my insatiable appetite. The sweet, creamy liquid filled me up quickly, but I couldn't stop. Each gulp sent waves of pleasure through my body, and I felt myself getting more and more turned on by the idea of being fed like this.

As the fourth pitcher emptied into my mouth, I felt my stomach start to churn and scream in protest. But even the pain couldn't stop me from taking in more of the delicious shake. My feeder leaned in closer, watching as I drank and drank until I was beyond full.

Finally, he pulled away the funnel and set it back on the trolley. I gasped for breath, feeling dizzy and lightheaded from the rush of sugar and fat. My belly was stretched beyond belief, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to move for hours. But even with the pain and discomfort,

As silent as he came, he left. Wishing I could have gotten more, to feel that blissful feeling of being overstuffed to the point of fighting my stomach not to throw up, I close my eyes. Dozing of quite quickly.

The sound of my feeder locking the door and the jingle of the keys, the soft steps on the floor, turning on the bedroom light, and his footsteps coming closer to me, all these sounds woke me up.

I sat up on the bed as he walked over to my bedside, a large glass of milk in his hands. With a grin, he set the glass on the nightstand and started to rub my belly. The glass of milk was steaming hot and it made my belly expand even further. “Good morning, my little fatty.” Said my feeder with a grin. “Mhm...” was all I was able to say, as usual. I felt his hands travel from my belly to my breasts. He took one of my nipples in his mouth, using his tongue to lick and suck. His other hand grabbed the glass of milk and moved it closer to me, as if he wants me to drink it. I was still full from my midnight snack, but I could eat.

[0-r-a-y-0]

Sick Day— Romantic #8/Brotherly Love #1

In which: Nick is sick and Jasper comes over to take care of him

Holy shit I love Jasper he’s so pookie wookie

I’m also thinking of also writing platonic Nick x reader and brotherly love oneshots (NOT incest, that’s weird) but idk so lmk what you think and give requests on my pinned post :)

I don’t know how I feel about this one ngl…

Warnings: Passing out/Fainting, Nausea

Today hasn’t been good so far. Nick woke up with a migraine and stuffy nose; his throat oddly sore. He stirs in his bed for a moment, not caring to even get out of bed. But knowing today being Thursday, they would have to film…and Nick would have to edit it.

The thought of doing anything seemed dreadful, painful almost. He felt like shit. Maybe worse than that. Also Jasper, his boyfriend, was supposed to be coming over today and would be in the car video with him. Fuck, Nick didn’t think he would survive.

He sits up, feeling lightheaded and dizzy, he squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose in attempt to wash the dizziness away.

Eventually, he gets up, nausea finding it’s way to the pit of his stomach. Now he feels like he can’t move. His stomach aches and he suddenly feels like everything left in him will be forcefully pushed out of him by vomit. Still, he makes his way out the room and into the living room and kitchen. Usually he would be the first awake but knowing the condition he’s in currently, he’s not surprised to see both his brothers up and running in the kitchen.

“Morning Nick.” Chris greets.

“Morning.” He mumbled in reply.

“You don’t look so good, Nick. You okay?” Matt asked.

The boy nods, looking down to avoid the light and giving him more of a migraine. “I’m fine, just have a headache.” He half-lied, his voice coming out hoarse due to his sore, dry throat.

Nick sneezed into his arm, almost toppling over, Chris holding his shoulder. “What are your symptoms?” Matt wondered.

“Headache, sore throat, stuffed nose, and nausea.” Nick listed, he couldn’t tell them about the dizzy and lightheadedness; they’d probably freak, and that’s the last thing he wanted to hear today.

“Okay, it’s probably just a normal cold. Have you taken your temperature yet?” He asked.

Nick shakes his head, Chris guiding him to the couch. “Okay, well let’s do that real quick, then we can find out if you got a fever.” The boy replied, comfortingly rubbing his shoulder before heading to the bathroom.

Nick pulls his hood over his head and lays on Chris’s shoulder, feeling lightheaded once again. Matt comes back with some medicine and the thermometer and sits on the opposite side of Nick.

“Hey, open your mouth.” Matt instructs. Nick slightly parts his mouth, letting Matt slip in the thermometer.

After he takes the thermometer out, Nick gets up. “Okay, I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait, you need to take medicine first. You got a fever, and you’re walking all funny.” Chris claimed.

“No, no. I hate that medicine, and the thought of putting anything in my mouth makes me gag.” Nick sassily replied. “So, if you want me to take anything, then you’ll have to melt it and inject it into my bloodstream because I’m not taking jack-shit.”

“Okay, just get some rest. Let us know how you feel when you wake back up.” Matt says.

And with that, Nick closes his door and lays back down onto his bed. It was unbelievably comfy, Nick couldn’t help but drift off and fall back asleep within seconds; and not even caring to cover himself up with his comforter.

All morning Jasper has been texting Nick. Not a single reply. He didn’t even open them or read them. Which, had Jasper worried. He didn’t do anything to make Nick upset, and even if he was mad, he always read his text messages. He needed to know what time to go over to their place so they could film. Jasper didn’t have Matt or Chris’s number either so he couldn’t just message them.

Quickly, Jasper grabs his keys and hurried to his car, trying to get to the Sturniolo’s as fast as possible. To say he was worried would be the understatement of the century. This behavior was so unlike Nick and he needed to know what was wrong with his boyfriend.

He gripped onto the wheel as tight as possible in attempt to keep his nerves down. He hands sweated, biting his nails whenever he would be at a stop sign or red light.

Finally, he makes it to his destination. Practically leaping out his car, he urgently knocks on the door. Chris answers.

“Hey Jasper, wassup?” He greets.

“Is Nick okay? I was supposed to come over today to film with you guys but he hasn’t even read any of my text messages!” He vented, panic in his voice.

“Hey, he’s alright. He’s just sick.” Chris answers.

“He was pretty rough though. He was all out of it and he wasn’t walking right.” Matt added, moving out the way to let Jasper in. “He’s been sleeping for the past couple hours, I think he’d be happy to see you when he wakes up.”

“Okay, thanks.” Jasper responded, rushing to Nick’s room.

Nick wakes up to the sound of someone closing his door. He shifts, not wanting to wake up quite yet. But nonetheless, he opens his eyes and sees his boyfriend standing beside him.

“Hey bae.” Nick muttered, lazily waving and closing his eyes again.

“Hey hun, how you feeling?” Jasper asked.

“Not good.” He answered, slowly shaking his head.

“Yeah I can tell. Here, let’s sleep for a little longer alright?” The other suggested, sitting beside him on the bed and running his hand down Nick’s pale skin.

“No, no. Don’t wanna go back to sleep.” Nick mumbled, sitting up and laying his head on Jasper’s shoulder.

“Did you take any medicine?” Jasper wondered.

He shakes his head again, feeling the other pull the blanket over him. “Maybe you should do that then.”

“No. That medicine is nasty.” Nick complained.

“But it’ll make you feel better, and that’s all that matters.” Jasper said, getting off the bed. Nick gets up the follow but stops in his tracks due to the room spinning and feeling lightheaded.

“You okay, hun?” He asked.

Nick nods, his hand being pressed up to his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

“Maybe you should lay down, I’ll make you soup and bring you the medicine.” Jasper persuaded.

“No, I’m fine.” Nick mustered out.

“Alright, but you’re at least going to lay down on the couch. You’re going to get your brothers sick if you go around touching things.” He scolded.

“I could get you sick too, you know.” The redhead replied.

“We can rot in bed together if I get sick as well.” Jasper excused. “Now go lay down on the couch while I make you some soup.”

Nick didn’t respond, only doing what he was told. He was still really dizzy, his head feeling heavy and not being able to hold it up any longer. As he makes his way to the couch, if he’s even walking in the right direction, everything goes black.

“NICK?!” Jasper screamed, rushing to his side and dragging him onto the couch.

“What happened?!” Matt asked, rushing in when he heard the scream.

“I was going to make him soup but he didn’t want to be left alone in the bedroom so I told him he could go lay on the couch and he just fainted before he could make it.” He explained in harsh breaths.

“Hey, he’s going to be alright. Breathe with me.” The boy calmly responds, taking slow, deep breaths. Jasper follows along when Chris walks in.

“What’s the screaming about?” He wondered.

“Nick fainted.” Matt simple answers, getting up when Jasper was calm.

“WHAT?!” Chris yelled. “You seem oddly calm about this.”

“I’m freaking out, dude.” Matt says. “Let’s try shaking him, someone go get him a water.”

Chris goes to the kitchen and grabs water out the fridge, bringing it back as fast as possible. “Hey, Nick wake up.” He demanded, shaking him lightly.

After a bit more of calling his name and shaking, his eyes finally open. They all sigh in relief.

Nick tries to get up but Jasper only lightly pushes him back down. “No, you just fainted. You’re going to lay here while I make you soup and get some medicine in you.” Jasper commands. “Here, drink some water.”

Matt grabs the medicine and gives it to him. “Take it.” He demands.

“You know I can grab my own medicine and take care of myself, right?” Nick asked, still taking the pills. “I don’t need you guys to baby me.”

“Nobody is babying you. You just passed out, we don’t want you getting up and having the same thing happen.” Chris explained.

“I’m fine. I’m just a little sick. You act like I don’t get sick literally all the time.” He replied, swallowing the pill and chugging water afterwards.

“We just want to make sure you’re okay. We don’t want to baby you, hun.” Jasper claimed.

Nick yawns. “I’m going back to sleep.” He states, sitting up and getting off the couch. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to faint again.”

He coughs into his arm, he throat aching as he sniffled. He walks back into his bedroom, Jasper following behind and closing the door once he entered the room.

“Want to cuddle while you nap again?” Jasper asked.

“I’m a little warm but sure.” Nick mumbled, somehow shivering before he pulled the covers over himself and the boy next to him.

“Just relax babe, you’re going to be okay.” Jasper comforts, holding Nick close.

With the care of Jasper and his brothers throughout the rest of the day, he was almost fully recovered the next morning. But, when he was getting ready for the day, he heard harsh coughs coming from the boy still in bed. Nick sighs, knowing that he would have to take care of his boyfriend. Though, he doesn’t mind, after all, Jasper took care of him yesterday.

“I’ll go get the thermometer and medicine.” He said to himself, knowing that today would be filled with coughing, sneezing, and staying in bed.

[hypnotisinglatex]

When Chris thought back on how he got in this pleasurable position, he questioned himself on why he struggled so hard.

[EARLIER THAT NIGHT]

Chris was tired of all the crap his manager was giving him about how he should behave in public, he knew how to do that, he has been an actor for 20 some years. So instead of being a reasonable adult he went to a pub to drink his problems away, he wasn't the type to drink much, but he thought he deserved to relax once in a while.

The time flew by so quickly that he didn't notice it was almost 3 am in the morning until a guy stumbled and fell right with his face on his crotch. His dick was fully erect and his bladder was totally full by the alcohol.

He quickly looked at his watch and was shocked to see that is was almost 3am.

"Shit, I need to go home." He mumbled drunkenly to himself, laying 2 bills of $100 on the counter and quickly leaving to go to his house by foot. He didn't notice two pairs of eyes following him out, with a matching pair of smirks on the men's faces.

Chris tried to make it home but failed because he couldn't hold in his piss. Quickly searching and finding a dark alley to relieve himself, he pulled down his pants revealing his faux leather boxer, which were smooth and turned him on every time he moved with his legs, he took out his dick and instantly there was a yellowish stream of smelly piss.

He wasn't really focused on his surroundings, only feeling the pleasure of his hand around his cock and filling the alley with his smelly piss. it wasn't a big surprise when he stumbled back when he felt a cloth was pressed against his mouth and nose, filling his airways and lungs with chemicals, making him dizzy and lightheaded. All of this happened with his pants around his ankles and his hand around his cock sticking out of the leather underwear.

[LATER]

Chris woke up naked to the feeling and sound of metal shackles being closed around his wrists, making him unable to move his arms. He also noticed he couldn't move his legs because thy were trapped in wood, the same as his waist.

He felt that his ass was filled with a cold, thick substance. "Lube?" He mumbled "What... where am I?!" He shouted, he could only see that's he was in a dark room, and some beefy guys walking around him, not paying him any attention whatsoever.

"Help, can anyone free me?!" He was absolutely terrified. To his own horror he suddenly felt hands on his ass, squeezing his cheeks. He heard a zipper being opened and a guy breathing heavily, he let oud a moan filled with incredible pain and pleasure when he felt a huge bottle like shape fill his hole.

The old dirty man that was at Chris's glory hole began to thrust and pound into the actor's cunt, felling himself moan at the tight and wet heat of Evans' hole sucking his cock in. The other truck drivers cheering him on and calling degrading names at Chris.

The, what he assumed was a dick, began to thrust in and out of his hole. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying the sick pleasure of being fucked by a men without his permission but he did. So without a further thought, he began to shout what he wanted. "Please daddy fuck me hard, please Sir I want you to fuck me so hard...! Hmmpfffhhh! Aaaah"

{CHRIS EVANS WAS NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN}

[mambo-by-a-mile]

story time + 😷

😷-Sick

'Oh, boy.'

'Upside to having a cold and fever; not having to do any work while you watch a princess hook up with would be prince frog for the trillionth time. Downside: just about everything else.'

'Let me explain. Neither me or Munk actually get sick a lot or easily. We have way too long lifespans with strong immune systems to show all those average weaknesses humans do-eh, if you are a human I meant no offense. But....for some reason it can still happen once in a blue star. Don't ask me how. And of course it jus HAD to happen to me. A hot minute ago during fall I decided to try my luck at gathering some pumpkin for potions, pies, spices-mostly pies and wicked decorating. Anyway mission was a success but my counting on it being not to chilly or wet from the rainstorm the the day before? Admittedly, not so much. Not like I felt sick right away. I just did my chores for the rest of the day after Mister Senior Assistant complained enough when I got back-man did I really want to start smashing and carving some of those pumpkin babies though but you know Munk. Fun is like poison to him. So I slaved away watching over the same fairy tales in this boring tower room, I began to feel a little lightheaded, and my nose was beginning to stuff up-ya know, that gross stuff. Guess Munk knew something was up because in his 'wise' words he told me I was 'pleasantly quiet' for me and 'I hadn't been driving him up the palace walls with my wisecracks, pranks, and troublemaking all afternoon' as if that's all I ever do around here. But no guess I didn't-not that I noticed. I was too beat at that point. The next morning was when things really got bad.'

'Felt as awful as Sleeping Beauty must have felt after being cursed or Snow White after biting into that poisoned apple when I woke up. Felt like that for the next few days to week. There was the shivering, the sweating, the sniffling, the dizziness. Geez. How in the name of whatever great Wizard came before the boss can you feel so hot and so cold at the same time? Sure, it seemed nice to get to lie around all day and sleep a lot but even a cozy bed with a silk blanket feels like a prison cell when you're forced to stay in it all day without being allowed to get up or do anything else. Not that I always felt halfway decent enough to even stand up during that time until my fever and cold were gone but point still stands.'

'Going further down Jack and Jill's steep hill some genius decided to build a water well on top of, all I was allowed to eat and drink was soup this, green tea that, more water here and porridge there. I never want to eat another bowl of chicken and potato soup for as long as I live. At least I got to sip it through a straw. Then there was the medicine the boss made me. Disgusting stuff that Munk of course said he would pour down my throat if I didn't take. Guy would also check in every couple hours just to make sure I was still in bed as if he couldn't trust me to stay still...bored...sniffling and coughing...shivering, sweating, and flushing for a whole day. Well, when he didn't come to bring soup, water, or tea and check my temperature as if I was some five year old who needed a nanny. And that's only from what I remember as I spent the other half sleeping or at least slipping in and out of sleep. I swear it honestly felt I was gonna MAKE like Sleeping Beauty and slip into a coma at times. Naturally, though, being the tough guy I am, I struggled through.'

'Speaking of remembering, there were times I must have been so beat from that dang fever I was half-conscious because there were a couple times I woke up feeling cold water against my cheek or forehead-not sure if it might have been Munk or the boss doing that-, my face or wrist being touched, and even a few times where I think I was being fed that soup, tea, and water. And you know what, the last one I know for sure because I decided to test it out. I even ended up making a fun little prank out of it. The next time after that heard someone come in I pretended to be out of it even though I was wide awake. I can one hundred percent confirm it was Munk because I did catch a teensy weensy peak. Bottom line, it was actually kinda nice to be spoon fed so I just didn't say anything. And I know he thought I wasn't fully awake because I heard him say that he actually kinda missed my jokes and wisecracks while he worked alone. Gotta say though, I think he must have been catching my own cold and becoming delirious himself because he is almost never that nice to me! For all my bellyaching about it, at least I made some fun out of it in the end and don't tell Munk but I guess it was kinda sweet to know I was at least well cared for. And especially don't tell him that I was awake for any of that.'

[jenthebug]

ouch

I have this big ass to-do list today, and most of it involves running errands out of the house.

I woke up this morning with a headache, a stuffy head, and dizziness (vertigo, not lightheaded). I took DayQuil, Advil, and I’ve had water and coffee, and I still feel bad.

This is not good.

The next logical step is a long, hot shower with lots of steam to clear the sinuses. Too bad the last thing I want to do is shower lol (what is it about this current round of depression that has made me so averse to showers? quit it, self!)

I got the official okay to wear ~scrubs~ at work! It’s a hell of a lot easier to wear thermals under scrubs than under business casual, so I’m stoked. One of my many errands is a trip to the thrift shop to get those thermals and scrubs. I don’t even want to do that, because I feel sick and lazy. But I’m so stoked about the scrubs thing.

Just called Jay, he’s sleeping over at a friend’s house. Bad news: He doesn’t want to go thrifting with me :( Good news: That means I can go anytime or not at all.

My couch is so, so very comfy right now.

[missjanjie]

Rosenali 🎶

Changing My Major - Fun Home

I don’t know who I am I’ve become someone new Nothing I just did is anything I would do Overnight, everything changed. I am not prepared I’m dizzy. I’m nauseous. I’m shaky I’m scared Am I falling in to nothingness Or flying into something so sublime? I don’t know, but I’m changing my major to Joan

When Denali woke up, there was barely a moment of calm before her mind started reeling and her heart started racing. All it took was a look to her right, at the woman still fast asleep in her bed and the memories from the night before came flooding back and sent sparks throughout her body. She still couldn’t believe it was real. 

[Last Night]

Rosé rushed inside Denali’s dorm room as soon as she was let in. “What’s going on? Your text seemed kinda frantic.” 

“I did it!” Denali beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I called my parents, well, I left them a voicemail, but I came out! I came out to them!” she announced, only for her eyes to widen and her face to drop just as quickly. “Oh my god, I came out to them. Fuck, maybe I should’ve waited to do it in person. I mean, I feel relieved, but–”

The taller woman cut her off when she cupped her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Hey, it’s okay. You did it, I’m so proud of you.” 

Any anxiety that started to bubble up dissipated the moment Rosé kissed her, leaving her stunned into silence for a moment until softly asking, “you’re proud of me?” 

“Of course I am, baby, coming out is never easy. I did it when I was fifteen, I was terrified. I’ve just had five years to feel comfortable in my own skin,” she explained. “Maybe now our dates can start feeling a little more like dates, yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Denali readily agreed, though she wasn’t quite sure what Rosé meant by that. 

At least, she didn’t until they were on her bed, their clothes coming off as their hands explored each other’s bodies. She was so pleasantly overwhelmed, trying to find the balance between savoring every moment and wanting as much as she could get, as much as Rosé was willing to give.

“Are you okay?” Rosé asked, raising her eyebrow when she noticed what she assumed to be a mix of nerves and enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m totally cool. Except I might lose consciousness, I think. But I’m fine,” Denali replied breathlessly, then went right back to kissing down her neck.

Rosé chuckled softly and ran her fingers through her hair. “You’re adorable,” she cooed. 

And Denali just had to trust that she meant it and didn’t think she was some clueless baby gay that had no idea what she was doing. Even if it was partially true. But when she had her head between Rosé’s thighs, she let her instinct take over, and she did end up getting her off, so she must have done something right.

“Now,” Rosé purred, pulling her up into a kiss, “let me take care of you.”

[The Next Morning]

Denali had spent a few minutes calming herself down, lest she wake Rosé up with her frenetic energy. She still felt lightheaded, pleasantly delirious. She would’ve happily spent the rest of the day, even longer, in bed with Rosé, having sex until their bodies gave out. 

Rosé let out a vague grumble to signify that she was awake, though her face was still buried in the pillow and her body was still tangled up in the bedsheets. Slowly but surely, she shifted onto her side and sleepily pulled Denali into her arms. “Morning,” she mumbled, her face now buried in her hair instead of the pillow. 

“Morning,” she chirped, trying not to seem too excited, or that she’d been awake and reliving the night before in as vivid detail as her brain would allow, all while barely taking her eyes off of her. “You, um, sleep okay?” 

She smiled softly and held her tighter. “You’re so fucking cute,” she murmured. “Yeah, I did, though it doesn’t seem like you slept at all,” she teased, then added, “guess I just have to tire you back out, hm?”

[cheriepiie]

TW : weight loss / starving

yesterday was so hard to ⭐️tarve myself all i ate was an apple and that was already 90 something calories and thats a lot so thats all i ate + a bottle of diet coke but i ate the apple right in the morning bc i was so hungry and i drunk the diet coke throughout the day but i drunk it all by 7pm so for the rest of the night i didnt eat anything and water didnt really help so i didnt drink it that much but it was so hard to sleep last night all i can think abt was food once i woke up i felt so dizzy and my stomach was hurting so i was going to let myself eat bc i couldnt take it anymore but when i got out my bed i felt so lightheaded and when i was walking to the kitchen my legs felt weak i felt like i js need to eat to get the feeling away so i got some cereal but it was honestly hard to take the first bite bc my stomach was hurting so bad i felt nauseous i was so scared of throwing up but eventually i still took a bite i took 2 but i felt like i was going to past out i hate the feeling u get when ur abt to past out with a passion my anxiety levels was high so thats what also probably made it worse but i felt hot and i couldnt see for a few minutes uhh yea but im sure this is bc i literally been ⭐️tarving myself for a few month and it js keeps going on and off so my body couldnt take it anymore but its so annoying bc my anxiety is telling me that i have to eat now bc now theres a chance that i might pass out again but im LITERALLY not even that bad like no one has noice i been losing weight and my bones werent even showing yet i want to keep on going but my anxiety is stopping me from wanting to go anymore forward but i WANT to continue ⭐️tarving myself idk what to do

[brandnewhuman]

Hello! I really like your blog! What about friday 13? Did you have any bad luck?

Well, I would like to ask if the requirements are open? (I'm new to tumbler, so I don't know much here yet, so if there are no open requirements, I'm sorry) I would really like Leatherface (I prefer Tommy more), Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Brahms Heelshire with S / O, who often faints due to lowering blood pressure and can't affect it in any way.

SLASHER X READER WHO SUFFERS OF LOW PRESSURE.

Includes:

Thomas Hewitt - Jason Voorhees - Michael Myers - Brahms Heelshire

TW: canon violence, mention of cannibalism, fainting, mature language. If I've missed something just tell me!

A/N: hiya! Lucky for me, Fridays the 13th are never bad days for me lmao. The request are open ^^ I will always put in my bio whether they are or not!. Now onto the fun stuff, thank you for the request ^^. I love this kind of request, they're like super fun to write. Okay I'll shut up now, hope you enjoy it^^

THOMAS HEWITT:

Chances are that you have fainted in front of Thomas before, probably when you were still meant to be dinner

That doesn't stop Tommy from going through all the 5 stages of grief everytime you faint now

Y/N is really out there being a menace to this poor man peace

Listen, Texas is really beautiful and all but the heat? Sucks fuckin ass when you're a person with this type of health problems

You were probably helping Luda Mae in the kitchen, today has been hotter than usual outside 

You already woke up this morning not feeling all that great so that, you not remembering to drink your freaking water and the heat, you were bound to faint at any moment. 

Mama Luda has been asking you all day if you were sure you're alright.

Being the good s/o you are, you didn't want to worry anyone. You were used to living your life feeling dizzy as fuck. 

And then you bent down to pick up something from the floor

That's when Tommy walks in, just in fucking time to catch you before you bang your head against the counter while fainting.

You folded like a piece of paper and Thomas is losing his marbles, worry to death that you might have died of something 

Worry not cause Mama Luda doesn't let the panic take control and tells Thomas to carry to your room while she brings some water for you and a wet cloth to put on your forehead 

When you do wake up Thomas is going to be smothering you in affection, frantically patting you everywhere to check if you got hurt and looking at you with those puppy dog eyes filled with concern

Please tell him you just fainted for low pressure cause he can and will just assume the worst otherwise. 

"Tommy, hun please stop worrying I'm okay. I was just feeling dizzy" as soon as you say that Thomas is going to shush you

No, you were dying and now he's going to keep a close eye on you. He's having none of this 'I just feel dizzy'  fuckery 

From that day he's going to always remind you to drink plenty of water and take small breaks. 

You can use this to force him to take some breaks too cause baby boy is worse than you in taking care of himself

He would always carry around some sort of candy or any snack to give to you when he sees you're feeling dizzy

Lets you lean on him when you feel lightheaded. 

Oh yeah, that pulling your weight thing where you have to have to overwork yourself? You're not allowed anymore

In fact he almost tried to keep you in bed all day but when you told him it would only be worse if you did that then he settles for you doing light house chores

You're allowed in the basement only if the victims are all dead. He's not gonna take the risk of someone trying to hurt you or you fainting in front of a victim

He agrees to have you in only because is cooler down there and he has been told that helps

He's so worried about you, poor guy thought you just dropped dead in front of him

When you feel so dizzy that you can feel you're about to faint He's gonna pick you up and hold you close to him until you don't feel better.

Don't worry y/n you can faint now, Tommy's got you.

He's so careful with you,  I'm gonna cry. Best chonky man ever

JASON VOORHEES:

Jason should be suing your low pressure for attempting at his life, scaring him like this. 

Everytime you faint he's going to assume you have just died. I'm talking about tears, holding you close to his chest, shaking and all that jazz

So you'd probably wake up seeing the behemoth of a man holding you like a fucking human Teddy bear, rocking back and forwards and sobbing like a baby

"Baby are you okay?? Why are you crying? Why are we on the floor??" Leave me suffer for I have lost my- oh you're alive y/n!!! Oh god!!

Bro is going to squeeze you so tight you'll feel dizzy all over again. 

He lets you dry his tears while he, in his own way, tries to explain that you just dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He thought you've died y/n!! Don't laugh!

What do you mean you've already told him that you don't die, you just faint? You can't be 100% sure!! 

You fainting will mean three or four days of Jason not letting you as much as lift a single finger. 

Obviously going out without him is forbidden. He just doesn't want you to get hurt! 

Will even consider going with you when you need to run errands far from the camp. He has literally nightmares about you being away, fainting and hitting your head on something without him there to help you.  

Since you would probably actually love for him to come with you always, you can be naughty and play the "I feel a little dizzy" card before going out so he has to tag along. 

If he's zombie Jason that's…well, that's not going to work. He would love to but he just can't. Probably try to convince you to stay instead. 

When normal jason comes with you, he's going to make you get plenty of snacks and things that could help with low pressure

When has to leave you alone in the cabin he makes sure to leave near you a glass of water, something to eat ecc. Makes you promise you will stay on bed until he comes back (you won't but he doesn't have to know)

Both versions of Jason are gonna panic when anything happens to you cause you're the only light of their lives. He has to see the only other person who loved him die in front of him so it's perfectly reasonable for him to be fussing about any little thing. 

He just doesn't want you to go where he can't follow you y/n, let the big guy take care of you ♡ 

MICHAEL MYERS:

I made a post about Michael being anaemic and not only people have agreed with me (as they should cause I'm right) but they pointed out mikey here might have low pressure too

I know you all think Michael is an emotional constipated bastard, and he is. BUT  I just know he falls into that trope of "mean to anyone but them" 

Only difference is that mean for Michael is disrespectfully stabbing people 

Now, you've managed to make the shape of haddonfield fall in love with you.

That means that your low pressure is now his problem too.

You're both two lightheaded babes living your best life feeling dizzy as fuck

The first time you actually fainted was while making dinner for him. You were cutting something and Michael was right beside you, watching you cook. He finds it relaxing y/n, he doesn't mean to be creepy. 

When you suddenly stopped  he looked at you, tilting his head slightly as if he was asking what's wrong. 

You didn't open your mouth when you already started passing out. 

When i tell you Michael has never moved so fast in his life you have to fucking believe me

She's a runner She's track star kinda moment 

Congratulations, now you are both seated on the floor, you're out and he has the world fucking spinning at the speed of light while he holds you tight 

How dare you make him feel dizzy too?

While Michael is having the time of his life trying to not throw up and pass out too simultaneously, he's petting your head awkwardly trying to wake you up

If he didn't happen to feel dizzy he would've shaken the shit out of you as worried as he can get. 

When you finally wake up he forces himself to focus on how you feel and what happen to you

If you tell him you suffer from low pressure then he's going to be relieved but annoyed

Couldn't you, like I don't know, before so he didn't have to almost faint too catching you? 

When you both feel better (after you gave him a sweet to help him with the dizziness and he brought you a glass of water, holding it out towards you with his arm awkwardly stiff) he's going to pretend nothing had happen and is going to ignore you for making him worry so much

Hey, at least now you know he's capable of getting dizzy. 

After that Michael will always keep an eye on you. 

Making you drink water, forcing you to walk slowly and avoid sudden movements, even keeping a spare piece of candy for you in his pocket just in case

He's giving you all his tricks y/n, just because he doesn't want to have to carry you around if you faint again certainly not because he cares about you and your wellbeing nono

The point is, he is emotionally constipated but that doesn't mean he doesn't give a flying fuck about his s/o getting hurt ecc. He acts tough but he really loves you, more than what he would like to admit. 

I repeat, he's the living trope of mean to everyone but them and you can't fucking change my mind. 

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE:

Funnily enough you having low pressure that leads you to faint is what made brahms come out of the wall. 

You were doing your chorus, Brahms was spying on you like the wall gremlin he is. 

Then you  just..plopped on the ground. 

Mate chose violence and just busted out the fucking wall right there right now. 

He got scared about how still and pale you seemed. 

He just holds you until you wake up, cradling you against his chest and trying to calm himself. 

Needless to say you almost fainted again when you saw him

Now however, you've been together for months but he still worries a lot about your health. 

He tries to spend less time inside the wall cause he doesn't want to risk not being able to reach you on time if you don't feel well

Ah, that wall he so nicely decided to bust? You had to fix it. Obviously he helped (well at least with things that were too heavy for you) 

He tries to learn as much as he can reading about low blood pressure and how to prevent it.

He puts little notes all over the house with cutesy little reminders of drinking water or taking a break 

When you're too tired or feel too weak he's the one doing the chores 

He's going to treat you like you're made of glass. 

He just can't allow his dear y/n to get hurt, how are they going to take care of him otherwise? 

He cares okay? He's not just a selfish stinky man who needs attention 

You're his to love and care for after all

[blushedarmybunny]

At His Mercy | Min Yoongi One Shot

☽ Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem reader

☽ Summary: You have been captive, but he had to make sure that it stays that way forever.

☽ Word count:  800

☽ Genre: yandere, angst.

☽ Warnings: drug use, kidnapping, abuse, manipulation.

You woke up in a different room than usual.

Seated in a chair, well to be more precise it looked more like abandoned medical equipment.

What he would do now? to yn it was a mystery, both for her horror and her curiosity.

But thinking hurts, everything hurt.

You were immobilized too, so tight that your blood stream was slowing, leaving your feet numb.

Some steps, confusion and dizziness when you turn your head to look at him, slurring and a mumbling trying to say his name.

Then a burning sensation in your arm, it was a I.V.

More drugs, you thought, as your weak body pleads for a break from harsh treatments.

You had remained doped with something that made you feel so good that you could imagine yourself in a galaxy far away from the hell you were living, you don’t remember much, he kept supplying that stuff for a few days, you could dare to say an exact period of time, you honestly had lost count since he had taken you away.

Maybe he gave you a little too much this time, but the fact that he saved your life felt more like a punishment than a reward.

Soon you realized that he was draining your blood.

“Its too tight” you said to him weak and pathetic exactly how he wanted you.

He looked at you as if he didn’t expect you to speak.

“Wake up already, little one? It’s almost finished, I know you are uncomfortable you’d been a good girl” his cat like eyes curled up in a supposed to be comforting smile, from a stranger’s perspective the young man can be considered a trustworthy and handsome guy, after all nobody could doubt his cover, behind closed doors he resembles more like a calculated beast.

Deranged, crazy, mad.

But he called that love.

He was a sick, sick man, and he already tried every trick in the book to break you.

And he did.

And to be honest you preferred his delicate touch than his aggressive grab, his soft lips than his cruel treatment, sweet nicknames than degradation.

It made your nightmare more bearable.

The boy didn’t look like a creepy sweaty old man like the media usually portrayed guys like him, he had delicate features, a not so big frame and jet black hair parted in the middle, eyes small and feline like, pink fine lips, fair perfect skin, he was the opposite of what anyone would expect, it made your job of getting repulsed at him more difficult, because when he really tried he could be the sweetest person alive, treating you with such care and love that made you doubt yourself.

But things like this, what he was doing to you right now serve as a quick reality check of his monstruous nature.

When he collected what he wanted, he untied you and put you on the bed, you felt so dizzy and lightheaded, it wasn’t a small amount of blood.

“P.J. will take care of you, I’ll be out but don’t worry it would be only for a night, I promise” he kissed your lips softly.

“Yoongi, what did you do to me?” you asked him looking at his eyes, his soulless eyes.

“I explain you latter, please behave, ok?” he couldn’t resist to kiss you again.

P.J. the creep that was as unhinged as your captor, you could only guess he was severely codependent to Yoongi, so he does as he says, in exchange you don’t know exactly what Yoongi does to make that pest his minion.

He usually doesn’t talk to you much, nor he looks like he gives two shits about you but he follows Yoongi’s instructions very carefully. So he bathed you and feed you, he also detangled your hair not so carefully plucking enough strands to made you complain, he just slapped you hard on the cheek, you stayed silent after that.

Yoongi came next morning, P.J. left immediately.

Soon the fresh showered pair of arms embraced you from behind, his face on your neck.

“Now we can be together without anyone disturbing us ever again” Yoongi said, his voice exited.

“What do you mean?” you tried to sound innocent, he liked that.

“I fixed it, honey, don’t make a lot of questions, since I fixed it we can do a lot of stuff we couldn’t do before” he said leaving small kisses in your neck.

“what stuff?”

“We can go on dates outside, for example, if P.J. finish your new identity we can even get legally married!” he couldn’t contain his joy, he was elated.

You cringed and recoiled at the mention of his plans, you could not bear the thought of belonging to him forever, but he seamed like it was already decided, and you didn’t have any option really. You were at his mercy.

[leighsartworks216]

Breakfast

Yancy x gn!reader

Can probably be read as a sequel to Parole, but it's also a stand-alone fic so you don't have to. You won't be missing any context I promise <3

Warnings: swearing, slight paranoia (?), slight abandonment issues

Word Count: 747 (nice)

Masterlist

The sheets hugged Yancy in a way he was certainly not used to. But, as he woke up, to the distant sound of songbirds outside and the warmth of the sun peeking around the curtains, he found that he really wanted to get used to it.

What he didn't want to get used to was opening his eyes to an empty bed.

His heart was beating out a samba. He reached over on instinct, to really make sure the bed was empty. Sure enough, his hand only made contact with your cold sheets. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, confused. Was it all a dream? Was his parole a lie? But, no. How did he get here if that was the case?

Calm down, he told himself. He just needed to take a deep breath and figure this out.  Just a deep breath in and- Was that humming?

Feeling exposed without a shirt on, he found a baggy white shirt thrown carelessly on the floor and slipped it on. It wasn’t much, but he found it was better if an enemy couldn’t see how bad your wounds were in a fight… Not that he was going to fight anyone. He just got off on parole, after all.

Slowly creaking open the bedroom door, he poked his head out. The humming was louder without the wooden barrier. The door opened wider, and he took a cautious step out, ready to be attacked at any moment.

But, nothing happened. He was safe, after all. This was your apartment. It held all the knicknacks you’d collected over the years, photos of family and friends. It felt like home. It was home. And as long as you breathed, you swore, the most dangerous thing that could happen to Yancy here was a pillow to the face.

Sizzling sounded like music from the kitchen, singing directly to his empty stomach. The threat of danger lessened the more his stomach growled. His feet moved silently across the faux wood floor. He leaned around the corner, peeked into the kitchen, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Standing in the kitchen was you. You were quietly humming and speaking to yourself as you cooked breakfast - a simple but loving meal of eggs and bacon. Real bacon, too. Not the shitty mystery meat stuff Happy Trails used to make. He hadn’t smelled it in so long, he honestly forgot that’s what bacon smelled like. His mouth was watering at the thought of how it tasted.

“Doll?”

The sudden voice behind you made you jump. The plate you were holding roughly clattered onto the counter, but, thankfully, it didn’t shatter. “Jesus, Yance!” You turned to face him with a hand over your heart, as if you could stop it from doing jumping jacks in your ribcage. “You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing up?”

“I could ask the same of youse.” He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. It reminded you of your first encounter with the prisoner, right before you fought to prove yourself to him. “You think it’s funny to jus’ leave me alone in bed like dat?”

“What? No!” Your eyes widened, realization washing over you. “I wanted to do something to surprise you, I didn’t think-” You sighed. You looked like such an asshole right now. Yancy stood there, stern and solid, waiting for you to find the words to explain yourself. “It’s your first morning away from prison,” you started over, “and I wanted to make it special by bringing breakfast in bed.”

Yancy followed your movement as you gestured over to a large plate, already piled high with bacon, sausage, eggs, and toast. His shoulders fell a little at the sight of something so… thoughtful. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nah, I’m sorry, darlin’. I shoulda trusted you more,” he apologized. He offered a small, lopsided grin. “I know you wouldn’t leave me like dat.”

You smiled back. With just a couple steps, you’d easily crossed your small kitchen and wrapped your arms around his midsection. He almost automatically pulled you in closer, squishing him against his body.

“Never ever,” you promised.

“Neva eva?”

You laughed at his ‘accent’, but nodded into his chest anyway. “Neva eva,” you teased. His own chuckle rumbled through him before you heard it sound into the kitchen.

“Alright, alright.” He pulled you back, and his gaze was immediately enraptured by the large breakfast you’d prepared. “Can we’s eat now?”

[spunkpunx]

Slush Puppy - Part 2

George Daniel x Reader x (Slight) Matty Healy

Chapter 2: Man of Oil

"I find it so hard to tell you I'm afraid to forget the smell of you"

Warnings: Smoking, Drinking, Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Vomiting, Marmite

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @emo-milk

A/N: I’m so sorry this has taken so long but I had to rewrite big parts of it because I really wasn’t happy with it. On a positive; I made a video trailer for the series that you can watch here. I love you all for putting up with my slack timings xxx

It was early in the morning when I woke up. The light soaked lazily through the gap in the curtains that hid the french doors to the balcony. I could just about see a slither of slate grey sky from where I was lying. Matty was asleep, arm draped over my bare waist. I reached for my phone on the side table to check the time. It was almost 9 o'clock. I’d had maybe three hours sleep.

Carefully, I slipped out of Matty's grasp, trying to allow him some more time in bed. My throat was sore, scratchy from the cigarettes and spliffs yesterday, and my head felt weighed down as if it had been filled with sand.

I padded quietly to the bathroom and got a glass of hotel room water, gulping it down almost desperately, ignoring the unsatisfying taste. Somehow I'd remembered to take my makeup off last night, so at least I didn't have clumpy mascara crusting up my tired eyes. I turned the shower on, stripping and stepping in, hoping to attempt to wash away the weary feeling that seemed to linger in my bones.

The water rushed over me came as a slight release, running across my skin in hot little trails that warmed me through. I wished I hadn't drank so much wine. My brain was muggy and throbbing. My heart palpitated in my chest, and I felt a sharp pang, making me lean forward in distress. My vision swam for a moment and I was suddenly lightheaded, placing my hand flat against the wet tiles to steady myself while I waited for the feeling to pass. At least I knew I wasn't an alcoholic. The thought of drinking anything stronger than coffee almost made my stomach turn. There was no chance of trying the hair of the dog approach. As I regained my balance I felt a little worried about my sudden dizzy spell, but then I realised it was probably due to getting in a very hot shower with very little sleep and a bad hangover.

After washing my hair and drying myself off I returned to the bedroom, not bothering to cover up. Matty groaned and rolled over in the bed, but remained asleep, letting out quiet, soft snores. I went into my suitcase and put on a soft bra and underwear, then rummaged around until I found my trusty brown slacks, comfortable but relatively smart looking. I pulled on a black lace cami top and colourful mohair cardigan and brushed out my hair before going to the balcony again for the last cigarette in my crumpled pack, my heart still racing. The breeze made the hairs on my skin raise, and I shivered slightly as I looked out across the city, puffing on my fag. By the time I'd smoked it down to the last quarter I already regretted not saving it for later because I didn't really want to go out and get more.

I returned to the room and sat myself on the bed next to Matty, pulling my knees up and propping some pillows against the headboard so I could recline slightly as I attempted to re-read the only other book I'd brought with me; Last Exit To Brooklyn. After the first couple of chapters I got distracted by my phone and the book lay forgotten as I scrolled through all the mindless shit on Instagram and then Twitter. When social media became slightly too heavy for my brain and the nausea had sort of faded away I got up to make a cup of tea. The hissing rumble of the kettle woke Matty, and he sat up, rolling his shoulders and yawning dramatically in an almost cartoonish way. He stretched his arms up with a groan, and as his hands came back down one of them landed on my discarded book. He picked it up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Whattya reading?" he asked me, despite being able to read the title himself. The water bubbled loudly in the kettle, and it clicked itself off.

"Selby Jr," I replied, offhand. I poured the hot water into one of the teacups I'd found in the drawer below, wondering why they couldn't just have proper mugs. Who in their right mind wanted a saucer with their tea in the morning? I imagined some kind of Downton Abbey, Maggie Smith type character sitting in the bland chain hotel room, sipping on a china cup.

"What are your thoughts so far?" Matty inquired, flicking through the dog eared pages. I wondered if he had read it, then quickly realised that of course he had. An obscene novel about suffering deviants in the underbelly of 1950s New York? It was exactly his kind of niche.

"Well considering this is the fifth time I've read it, there's not been a shocking revelation this time round," I joked, adding sugar into my cuppa.

"It's a good book. A bit distressing in places," he pointed out, and I agreed pensively.

"Tea?" I offered. He shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm feeling a bit sick."

"You can go back to sleep if you want," I told him. "You don't have to get up because I have." I sat down cross legged on the mattress, taking a mouthful of still very hot tea. It seared my tongue but I swallowed it down quickly, trying not to pull a face.

"It's okay, I can't sleep with you bumbling around the room anyway," he teased, and I gave him a disapproving glare.

"Hey," I defended myself. "This is my hotel room, you know." Matty looked around as if he was just realising where he was.

"Really?" he said. "I thought we were in mine."

"Oh god. You do remember last night don't you?" I asked, a sudden wave of guilt and panic twisting in my gut. He laughed at my reaction.

"Yes I remember last night you idiot. Stop worrying that you sexually assaulted me." He paused. "Unless you did something naughty to me while I was asleep," he quipped, wiggling his eyebrows. I tossed a pillow at his head.

"Not funny," I scolded him, but I could't suppress my smile. He grinned back at me. "Have you got any spare fags?"

"Nah, they all got cained last night. By me, admittedly, but cained nonetheless."

"Shit, I really can't be bothered going to the offy," I sighed, checking the empty packet again in case I'd somehow not looked properly, then I tossed it toward the bin. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor.

"If I can get a shower I'll come with you," he offered, and I thought that sounded slightly better than going on my own.

"Yeah, alright," I agreed. I stood up again, going to my suitcase to try and find some socks. As I pulled them out I realised they were all dirty beyond a passable level, so I made Matty wait for his shower while I washed a pair in the sink with a slither of hotel soap. He washed and while he did I used the hotel hairdryer to dry my wet socks, slipping each one over the end of the appliance and switching them until they weren't as damp. Matty laughed at me when he came back in, and I laughed at him because his towel was tied under his armpits as opposed to at his waist. Matty got dressed back in last night's clothes and I put on my socks and chunky loafers, chucking my purse and phone and stuff into a LUSH tote bag. We decided to swing by his room so he could put on some fresh clothes.

"How come you look so good even when you're hungover?" he grumbled as we walked down the halls.

"If it makes you feel better, I feel fucking shit," I heartened. I glanced over at him, his hair wet, looking scruffy in his rumpled shirt. "It suits you, though. That kind of tired bedraggled look."

He pulled a V sign at me with his fingers, falsely affronted, and we got into the lift, pressing the button up. I got my phone out of my bag, tapping Matty on the arm as I pointed my camera at the mirror. We both struck a pose, me going for a miserable pout and a middle finger, and Matty mirroring me, except with a cheesy grin.

When Matty disappeared into his hotel room I decided to wait by the lift, checking through my phone while he went and got changed. Instagram had blown up. Hann had posted the photo of me and Matty in the dressing room before the show yesterday, tagging me. I had almost 700 new followers already. I refreshed the comments, reading some of them as they flooded in.

maaria.04 Matty looks so hot!!

wayeen._ Drunk teenager x 1975 collab? <3

1975stann.0 MATTY NEW GIRLFRIEND???!!?

ingadefort he looks so moody i love it

kiria._l0ve OMG I LOVE DRUNK TEENAGER U GUYS HANG OUT!!!!???

102matty Bisexual's dream fml

mis3ry_busin3ss Idk who she is but I ship it

I double tapped, liking the post. It was a little insane, in the photograph we were just sat next to each other, not even looking in each other's direction. Just by simply being in his presence I had been linked to him romantically. His fans were so dedicated to him, which was a beautiful thing, but I still wondered quite how he managed to stay sane when every move he made was so public.

"(Y/n)?" Came a recognisable voice from behind me. I turned to see George coming around the corner and I smiled.

"Hey, if it isn't my knight in shining armour," I greeted him with a tight hug, and his arms snaked around my waist again, his chin resting on the top of my head.

"How are you doing today, damsel in distress?" he grinned, rocking me slightly before he let me go and we returned to a comfortable closeness.

"Like someone has replaced my brain with worms and Polyfilla," I complained, rubbing my temple. He laughed a sweet laugh and I smiled again in spite of myself.

"I'm not sure what your knight in shining armour can do about that," he joked, and against my will my heart fluttered slightly in my chest.

"You're a real life St George," I told him, grinning.

"Does that make you the princess?" he asked, a keen glint in his eye. He was definitely flirting now, I was sure I could tell. His tone had changed slightly, his eyes watching me and making me look at the ground almost shyly.

"Definitely not, I'm too much of a fuckwit," I replied tactlessly, immediately dissuading any romantic tensions. "Fucksake, " I muttered, my eyes glancing at the time reflected back at me by my phone screen. "What on earth is taking Matty so long?" George raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised.

"Oh. You're with Matty," he said, a little dryly. I shrugged, somehow feeling like I'd put my foot in it.

"Yeah, funnily enough I'm not just hanging around by the lifts for fun. We're going to the offy for fags." I hesitated. "Do you want to come with?" George raised his eyebrows and I realised it was probably a strange thing to ask. After all, who wanted to be invited round the corner to buy cigarettes.

"Yeah, I might as well," he replied, running his hand through his hair and smiling at me. I fiddled with a loose thread on my bag.

"Cool, sorry it's not something a bit more interesting. I'm too hungover to go for a walk. The weathers a bit too grey for it as well. Scotland is quite cold," I apologised. He shook his head and we stood for a moment. I wished I had something more interesting to say, but my head was banging and I felt delayed off of two odd hours of sleep. Instead I'd resigned my words to inefficacious small talk about the weather. How fucking British. The conversation dissolved into a stagnant silence, until he broke it.

"Hey, princess." George quickly fumbled in the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out his own box of cigarettes. He took one from the cardboard packet and placed it between his own lips then offered me them, and I mirrored his actions silently, our eyes locking as I rested the filter in my mouth and my heart jumped slightly as I noticed his gaze linger. George had such expressive eyes. They were dark, but in the light the reflected the idea of warm mahogany or something equally as predictable. There was reason Danny handled the lyrics. 'Show me a brown eye and I will show you my idea of heaven' came to mind.

He broke first, grinning at me. "Matty will be fucking ages, let's wait out the front," he suggested, and I agreed.

We waited outside for twenty minutes, chain smoking George's cigarettes while I scuffed my nice shoes against the grubby pavement and George threaded his thumb through the hole in his sleeve, conversation flowing better after the fresh air had shifted my brain's mugginess somewhat. The off-license was in view at the bottom of the road. We could have gone and been back several times already. I let out an annoyed sigh.

"For fuck sake, let's just go already," I complained. "He's clearly not coming down. As if he was going to just leave me waiting for him," I complained. I moved to cross the road.

"Careful, princess," George warned me, pulling me back from the road as a car came past. If I hadn't been so caught off guard by the nickname that was beginning to stick then I would have gone off about how I wasn't a total idiot and that I was going to wait for the car to go first. Instead, I just sort of stood there, trying to form a coherent thought, George's protective hand on my arm. He let go of me, hands returning to his pockets as he crossed over to the other pavement. He looked over his shoulder at me.

"Are you coming then?" he asked and I nodded, hurrying after him with unusual urgency.

When we got inside the shop George and I had a mini exploration of the shelves, laughing at a load of off brand products with funny names until out throats hurt. George suggested we buy a load and then get high and eat them, so he filled his arms with rip off crisps and chocolate and biscuits. We queued and paid the hostile Scottish man at the till, who seemed displeased with our giggling and English accents, a lot more than anyone else in Glasgow had been. I got a box of fags for Matty as well as myself, then George and I stepped out the door into the street, grey clouds still mugging up the sky. As we began to walk back down the street I spotted a head shop, smiling to myself. In the glass doorway was a neon sign reading Ali's Vapes. I turned to George, who was swinging the plastic bag from the last shop by his side.

"Let's go in there," I suggested, stopping by the door. He grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"They're funny to look around, shops like that. Plus, who knows how long they'll last after the Psychoactive Substance Ban. C'mon, it could be our last opportunity to buy Spice," I encouraged, and he gave me a look.

"We can go in, but I swear to god you are not buying any legal highs," he relented, turning to give me a stern look as he pushed the door open, holding it for me. I curtseyed mockingly and he scoffed, rolling his eyes. We walked through the glass cabinets full of skins and vapes and grinders. "Remind me why we're here," George complained.

"Because, dear George, somewhere around here... Ah! There it is. The mega-bong," I announced enthusiastically, pointing at a cabinet towards the back of the shop. Flanked by a wide selection of other bongs and shishas and pipes, the mega-bong in this particular shop was more spectacular than I'd expected, so much so that even the stoner beside me seemed impressed. It was around a meter tall, made out of both clear and red glass. The base was held by a small model of a stereotypical Jamaican Rasta with sunglasses and a joint hanging from his smiling mouth and the pipe itself included a complex and frankly over-the-top amount of percolators. We looked at it through the glass.

"Fucking hell, you're right," George laughed. "That's bloody ridiculous."

"Yeah, I know," I grinned back. "Hey, look! This one is shaped like Eric Cartman. Fuck, it's so cute," I cooed, looking at the little ceramic South Park figure. George chuckled at me. "Do you remember all those headshops back in Manc? Danny bought some Spice once, but that was like..." I tried to do the maths in my head. "2005, maybe? I think it's a whole different drug now."

"Yeah, me and Matty used to fuck about with dabs a lot more frequently back in the day."

"I remember," I cackled, recalling coming across the two of them a few times when they were so high they were almost astral projecting. The memory made me smile, two dopey boys tangled up on a sofa, grinning at me with half lidded eyes as I tried to shift them on to another lame party. It was always more fun when all of us went. "You and Matty have always been the dream team," I added, simply.

"He's my other half," George explained.

"I swear to God, promise me nothing will ever come between you, 'cause if you and Matty can't make it then where's hope for the rest of us?"

"Fucking hell, you make it sound like we're married."

"Has the wedding not happened yet?"

"Shut up," he dismissed, giving me a little shove. I shoved him back, laughing, before noticing a face watching through the glass at the front of the shop. She was hard to spot from the distance we were at, but undeniably there. A starstruck teenage girl with chestnut hair.

"Hey, Georgie," I pointed out. "You have an admirer." He looked up, spotting the same girl I'd seen and waved at her in a friendly manner. She looked surprised, then moved away from the glass. A moment later the shop door opened and she came in, shyly making her way towards George.

"Are you George Daniel?" she asked meekly, as though she'd somehow made a mistake. She looked around fifteen, with big, watery blue eyes.

"Yeah," replied George kindly. "Nice to meet you."

The girl paused for a second, totally awestruck. Her eyes flickered toward me inquisitively, trying to figure out my part in this interaction.

"Is this your girlfriend?" she asked, and I found myself taken aback by how blunt even the most demure of the band's fans could be. Much to my surprise, George didn't respond how I'd expected.

"Yeah, this is my girlfriend," he said, turning back to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. I pouted in disapproval. "Isn't that right, baby?"

The nickname made me do a double take. He'd said it so casually, but it still made my stomach twist pleasantly and heat rush to my cheeks. I wasn't sure what to say for a moment. I did't know why he'd said we were going out, except maybe to deliberately wind me up, which wasn't totally out of character. I decided to roll with it, after all, it would be weird to deny.

"Yeah, that's right,” I agreed. The girl asked George for a photo, and I took my cue to slink off to give her a chance to talk to her idol without me hanging around.

When George came outside where I had been waiting for him I immediately narrowed my eyes at him.

"You bastard," I cursed, and another grin stretched across his face.

"What?" he looked at me indignantly.

"Don't act like you don't know," I scoffed, and he chuckled.

"It was funny, I didn't expect you to get so flustered," he admitted.

"I don't know, I could get in a lot of shit if that came out," I explained.

"Why would we get in shit for dating?"

"Because we aren't dating. You lied about it," I laughed.

"Wanna go back in?" he teased, and I shook my head.

"Absolutely not."

---

There was a loud knock at the door of my hotel room. I groaned, getting George to move his head from my lap as I handed him the spliff. I clambered awkwardly over the back of the sofa. We had moved it from it's space by the wall and forced it out onto the balcony. It was a small sofa, but it took up all the available space between the doors and the railings and the door wouldn't shut properly so we had to leave them open. It had made the hotel room cold, but we'd wrapped up warm to sit outside. Whoever was at the door knocked again.

"One minute," I shouted at them, unlocking the door.

"Hey, Mopsy, are you ready to go?" asked Leon, stood in the hall.

"Go where?" I asked, confused. He looked at me in surprise.

"To the airport! Mops! The plane is in a fucking hour," he scolded me, and then it clicked in my head.

"Shit!" I swore, quickly spinning around and frantically shoving shit into my suitcase, leaving Leon to follow me into the room. "George," I said. He lifted his head, peeking over the side of the sofa. "Did you pack your stuff?"

"Yeah I did it this morning," he replied. I rolled my eyes. So it was only me who had forgotten.

"Apparently we're leaving, I haven't even packed," I groaned. He checked his watch.

"Oh, I didn't even realise it was that time already," he said simply, taking another toke on the spliff.

"Wait, George is here?" Leon asked, apparently a few steps behind on the conversation. I didn't reply, too busy grabbing all my stuff from the bathroom. I went back into the bedroom, pushing all of my stuff into my suitcase so I could zip it shut. I moved around to the side table, picking up my phone charger and the book from the side of the table and shoving them into my bag. I looked round, seeing Leon now sat on the balcony toking the spliff. George was sat up now, his knees pulled up to his chest because the railings were pushed right against the edge of the sofa.

"Fucksake, I muttered, checking all the drawers to make sure I hadn't left anything behind.

"Hey, princess," George teased, tilting his head back to look at me over the back of the sofa. "Stop stressing."

I bristled, tutting slightly and continued to pack, aware that George was now watching me do so.

I was glad to be leaving the hotel room finally. I didn't like staying in hotels because it always made me feel like I was stuck in limbo, like a halfway point between where I had started and where I was supposed to be. The liminal nature of hotels unnerved me more than planes and trains and tour buses, because at least then I knew I was actively going somewhere. I tended to try my best not to think about it, but waiting didn't suit me and I was generally prone to existentialism.

I got my stuff together quickly and after moving the sofa back to its place (we may have been on tour but that wasn't the cleaners fault) and going past George's to get his bag we headed down to the lobby to meet the others. Andy, acting tour manager at least for now, looked like he was on the brink of blowing his fuse. He was pacing around, checking his watch, and his cheeks were flushed the same shade they always went right before he flew off the handle. I recognised it immediately. He spun around as we approached, his eyes wide with frustration. He huffed twice, composing himself.

"What took you so long?” Andy asked Leon with a slightly pained expression. We weren’t late, but we almost had been. Andy had no tolerance for bad punctuality; he wanted everyone ready to go at least an hour in advance and got stressed quite quickly when things didn't work out that way. I wondered why he'd chosen this career.

"(Y/n) was just getting her shit together," Leon replied flippantly. Andy nodded once, wringing his hands. He didn't speak again for a moment, like he was talking himself out of killing someone, but then inhaled deeply and snapped back into action.

"Right, there's three taxis outside. Let's go," he ordered sternly, and like a group of tired out school kids we meandered outside to leave for the airport. I ended up in the middle seat between Danny and Kirsten, with Leon in the front. As the taxi moved, she sighed, tilting her head back.

"I'm never taking drugs again," she complained, putting on a pair of sunglasses and arranging her hair around her face. "I can't even shit properly."

"Fucking nice to know, Kirst," Danny groaned, not pleased at the visual image we all had to imagine.

"It's true though," she argued back. "I'm fucking clogged up."

"Ugh, I was fine with the first part but you're getting a bit graphic now," I laughed. She rested her forehead on the glass of the window, but changed her mind when her head kept banging against the glass as the vehicle moved along the road.

"My head hurts," she whined, looking particularly self-pitying. I put my arm around her, letting her rest her head on my shoulder while I patted her soothingly.

"Just fuck already," Danny joked, immediately ruining the peaceful moment. I pulled the middle finger at him.

---

After a pretty boring check in and a slightly chaotic trip through airport security, the group made it onto the plane. Matty had of course taken a load of Valium so that he wouldn't be conscious for the flight. I understood exactly why he hated flying. I was usually okay if I sat next to the window, because at least I was able to see I was going somewhere. It wasn't a long flight, just an hour and a half.

I swapped with Danny to make sure I was able to see out of the plane. Being in the sky didn't bother me as much as it should have, maybe because I never really dropped my teenage invincibility fable. Danny was on the aisle seat. Matty had panned almost immediately, in the middle seat.

"What's his issue with planes?" Danny asked me, nodding towards the sleeping man between us. "He's not scared of flying. I don't get why he doesn't just enjoy doing nothing for a bit."

"He just doesn't like having to sit still for ages without the option of being able to leave," I explained briefly, pulling my headphones down.

"I don't get that at all. I fucking love a bit of peace," Danny said. I smiled. Danny had always been like that, patient. When we were kids any punishment involving him being sent to his room or grounded was totally pointless. He could sit for hours, calmly waiting until he was allowed out again, drawing or even just thinking, and when he was back he would be just as badly behaved as before.

"I get it," I replied, considering for a moment. "It's kind of like being put to bed when you're a kid. You don't hear 'go to bed', you just hear 'go lie down in the dark and don't get up until I say so'."

"Doesn't sound that bad to me," he shrugged.

"Yeah, I bet you'd fucking love it to be fair," I scoffed. "How do you not get bored?"

"I just think, you know. Contemplate shit. I don't know when my next chance to just do nothing will be," he described, while I nodded.

“I wish I could do that, I don’t think I’ve ever just done nothing without my brain going crazy.” I paused. “What time are we supposed to be meeting Julian?”

“Shit, I forgot about that. We have that fucking interview thing afterwards as well,” Danny swore. He got his phone out and checked the time. “It’s at quarter to four. I’m not going to have time to go home first, do you mind if I just drop my stuff off at yours?” he asked.

“Yeah mate, go for it,” I told him. Danny knew me, and he wouldn’t outstay his welcome. I needed my own space, especially after being around so many people for the last few days. I got stressed without a break, it made me slightly more emotionally fragile.

Julian Pace was our manager. He had noticed us at a gig in Leeds and signed us immediately to Dirty Hit, the same label that Jamie Oborne had began just a year prior. I did worry at first that we may have been signed simply through our friendship with the 1975, but after a frank discussion with Jamie, he assured me that although Matty had suggested Julian go and see us play, Julian was very picky and would not sign any band unless they were very good.

Julian could be stubbornly specific sometimes, but he generally allowed us the creative freedom we needed and we we’re never put under pressure to write music without warning. Julian was broad shouldered with a greying beard despite the fact he was quite young. He had a tendency to be blunt, but in my experience any creative practice involved bearing your soul and being told to go fuck yourself afterwards, so it never bothered me. He was tremendously good at what he did.

I leaned back into my seat, pulling my headphones back over my ears and looking out the window at the wispy clouds outside the window. They drifted below the plane like smudges of smoke, marked out against the green below. I listened to a Leonard Cohen song, and then afterwards Bonkers by Dizzee Rascal came on and I considered I might need to organise my playlists better. I noticed Danny scrawling something down in the little red notebook which he took everywhere and, unable to resist, pulled my headphones back down to speak to him again.

"Another song?" I enquired. He looked up at me, distracted.

"Nah. Well, potentially, but I haven't got much to write about at the minute," he explained. He scribbled something out and chewed the end of his pen.

"Write another Holden Caulfield song, I liked the last one," I told him uselessly. Danny rolled his eyes, smiling in amusement.

"Yeah, somehow I think one was enough."

I stopped myself from telling him that everything he wrote was good because it wasn't helpful.

"Well maybe if you can't write anything we'll just have to do an album without you, something instrumental," I teased. He scoffed, shutting the notebook and chucking it back in his bag.

"Piss off. I'm a guitarist too."

"Could replace you with a loop pedal to be honest."

"You're a prick," he laughed.

---

Danny and I dropped our stuff off at mine and I whacked my clothes in the wash. Tomorrow we were driving up to Birmingham, then two days afterwards it would be Dublin and then Switzerland to kick off the European tour. Between Birmingham and Dublin was George's birthday, so I wasn't sure when else I would find time to do my laundry. I resolved to buy him a present after our interview.

Danny walked across Finsbury Park, way ahead of me, rushing. He was worried about being late because of my faffing around at the flat. Danny's legs were a lot longer than mine, though, so I was a few paces behind already. The clouds were out but small patches of sun were shining through. I pulled my sunglasses down over my face, watching the back of his brown corduroy jacket get further away. I wasn't bothered about when we got to the cafe to talk to Julian. Danny turned around, walking backwards and urging me to hurry up.

We got to the tube station and I patted my pockets down, looking for my Oyster card. Danny watched me in exasperation, checking his watch.

"Fuck me, will you fucking hurry up?" he complained, glancing over his shoulder almost as if to check the station was still there.

"Yeah, one sec. It's here somewhere, I swear. Unless I left it at the flat..." I trailed off. Danny's face dropped in despair. "Oh, wait, found it," I announced, producing it from my bag.

"You are a fucking nightmare," Danny said simply, before turning around and striding away again. I grinned to myself, then followed.

We were due to meet Julian on in a nice, relatively quiet little cafe on The Angel. To Danny's ultimate frustration we were ten minutes late, so as retribution I paid for our coffee and we sat down at the table Julian was sat at.

"Where are the other two?" he asked immediately, his blue eyes analysing us.

"They couldn't make it, they said they'll go with whatever we decide," Danny explained, and Julian sucked on his teeth.

"So they're hungover?"

"Most probably."

"Right." Julian turned to me with a still expression and a steely gaze. He tapped his pen on the table top. "I hear that you and Kirsten were approached for an interview in Glasgow. Would that be correct?" he asked me. I looked down at my coffee, feeling a little bit like a child being told off at school.

"Err... Yeah we were," I replied vaguely. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I elected to ignore it.

"Apparently you were both useless," he continued.

"We were both drunk," I reasoned, but was cut off.

"You wasted a good press opportunity," Julian scolded. "I don't want that happening again, okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," I agreed, definitely feeling like I was in the headmasters office. Julian nodded curtly, and I took it as a sign that that conversation was done.

"What did you want to talk about?" Danny questioned him.

"The single release. I'm pushing it back."

"What?" I asked, confused as to why on earth Julian would want to hold the release.

"Hear me out," he countered. "I want to push Carousel as the single still, and save Modern Man for the album. One Thirty/6AM can be the b-side, and most importantly I suggest you perform those songs at Coachella before the release."

I considered his words. The initial plan was to release the single two weeks before Coachella, a date now fast approaching, and then hope that the release would draw people in to see us live. Julian's new plan made sense, though. People would see us at Coachella and then check us out just as the single dropped. I glanced at Danny, wanting to know what he thought. He looked contemplative, not willingly giving anything away while he thought it over. After a long pause, he spoke.

"If (Y/n) is happy with it then I don't see a problem," he announced, and both men turned to me.

"I suppose we're pushing the release back then."

After that and a quick discussion about the tour dates we wrapped things up early, so I had time to drag Danny around the shops before we were due to go to our interview. We went down to Shoreditch because the studio we were supposed to be filmed in was there and honestly it was a nice place to shop with all the vintage markets and such.

Danny didn't really mind going shopping with me, he never had. It was a stereotype bloke thing to hate shopping, but he tended to spend longer in shops than I did, looking at everything while my attention wandered to the next destination. We wandered through the stands, browsing records and clothes. A man offered me a 'special discount' on his perfume because of my 'lovely smile'.

I had absolutely no idea what to get George for his birthday. There seemed to be obvious options, like weed stuff or drum stuff, but that seemed unoriginal and to be honest he had everything he needed. Danny had picked out a particularly nice wine, and as we walked down some steps into a basement shop I almost scoffed at him with his sky blue trousers and bright shirt, sunglasses down over his eyes and looking particularly French and aloof with the bottle in his hand. In his other hand he held a paper bag with a few clothes he'd bought already.

I browsed the rails and shelves, conscious of time running out. There was a couple of things I thought were cool, but nothing that I knew George would also like. I settled finally on a good quality black shirt covered in red poppies. I could see him wearing it, although I didn't know if it would fit him right.

We began walking back to the studio but as we passed a small stall I hesitated, a rack of postcards having caught my eye. One had stood out to me, although I wasn't sure why.

"Hey, come on," Danny urged, probably sick of waiting for me. I stepped closer, picking up the card to look at it closer.

"Just a minute," I protested. The postcard depicted a painting of a woman in a green dress, knelt and cleaning the blood from the hands of a saint, her head resting tenderly against his stomach as he gazed out the window at what looked like a crowd of celebrating people. I wondered what had drawn me to it in the first place, although I knew what I liked about it on a closer inspection. There was definitely something in the intimacy of it, the troubled look on the saint's face framed by a gold halo. I turned the postcard over, reading the painting's title. St George and Princess Sabra, Dante Gabriel Rosetti. How fitting.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked, reluctantly coming over to see what was keeping me up. I smiled, holding up the postcard.

"A present has got to have a card," I told him, grabbing another few postcards I liked and paying the woman for them. Danny checked his watch again.

"Fuck you, we're gonna be late to this as well."

---

I stood in front of the mirror in my flat, feeling an unusual urge to dress up nicely. It had been George who had texted me when I was at the cafe, asking if the band and I wanted to come around the boys shared apartment for some drinks. I wasn't entirely convinced that I should go out tonight, due to the fact we were all due to go on tour very soon, but it was George and I knew my weaknesses. I pulled the mid-length purple slip over my head, regarding my reflection. I sighed. It was lovely, but it felt too dressy. I took it back off and grabbed some jeans off my bed and pulled a long sleeved stripey t shirt on. I'd already done my makeup, smudgy black eyeliner and mascara that made me feel less bare faced, not that I cared too much.

The interview had gone decently. They set me and Danny up on this strange white settee in front of an entirely white set, contrasting with our colourful clothes. It reminded me of that Yayoi Kusama piece with the white living room where all the visitors put coloured spots everywhere, except in this situation I was the coloured spots, which was a thought I wished I'd saved until after the interview because I functioned better when I wasn't comparing myself to abstracted forms. I supposed the set up would make for a good visual at least, although the white surfaces made me a bit paranoid that I'd accidentally leave some muddy footprints from traipsing around London.

Danny had taken most of the questions with a usual calm wisdom, and I mainly made a fool of myself fidgeting and making crap jokes. I didn't sit still for longer than a minute, so while Danny stayed relaxed, refined and elegant on one side of the sofa, I constantly kept changing my position. At one point the interviewer asked us the standard 'if you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life' question and I said Chillin' Wiv Da Mandem because I'd listened to it on the plane and I couldn't think of anything else, and Danny showed me up by picking Ain't No Sunshine by Bill Withers, which was arguably the greatest song ever written. Later in the interview I'd tried to change my answer but I knew it would be cut because I'd moved to sit on the back of the settee by the time I decided to mention it and it would be impossible to splice it in at the relevant point. Besides that embarrassment, the rest of the interview was pretty unmemorable. Afterwards Danny came back to mine, we had a spliff and he left again.

I checked the time on my phone. It was seven. I wondered if it was cooler for me to be on time or late to the boys' shared flat. I decided to hang up my wet washing before I left, so that if I was late it was because of that and not because I'd chosen to be. It was a vague theory because by choosing to do my laundry I'd already decided I was going to be late, I was just deferring the blame.

---

By the time I'd actually managed to get the tube into East London I was almost an hour later than the late I'd aimed for, and I cursed my own time keeping abilities. I knocked on the door, clutching a bottle of vodka in my other hand. It had been in my freezer, but after my commute it had warmed up a bit. I could hear voices inside. A shadow appeared on the other side of the frosted glass, illuminated by a warm hall light. The door opened and I smiled. George smiled back.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," I apologised, stepping into the hallway and into his warm embrace. He gave me a squeeze.

"Not at all, princess," he assured me, letting me go so I could take my coat off. "Come on in, get a drink," he offered, leading me down the hall and into the kitchen. I could hear the others laughing next door, and it reminded of house parties years ago. I went over to the glasses cupboard, already knowing my way around. George leaned back against the counter next to me, his tattooed arms resting on the work surface. I reached up for a glass, confused as to why they were so ridiculously high up. I supposed George, Ross and Hann were all tall enough for it to make sense. Stretching my arm out above me I pushed myself onto my toes, my t-shirt riding up. I felt George move behind me, his chest against my back as he reached the glass down for me, his fingers brushing mine.

"Fucking stupid place to put glasses," I deflected, ignoring the feeling that stirred when George pressed against me. "Does Matty just have to climb on the counter or does he get you to help him too?" I asked, and George laughed.

"Nah, there's usually some on the lower shelf. Think they've been nicked by the others," he explained. I poured a slosh of vodka into the bottom of my glass, eyeballing what I hoped was a double shot or something roughly near it.

"Got any mix in? I could do neat vodka ten years ago but now my liver wouldn't forgive me for it," I chuckled. George nodded, getting me some cranberry juice.

"I thought you would be drinking wine to be honest," he pointed out, and I shrugged.

"Maybe I just wanted to relive my teenage years. I'm not sure. Remember when me, you and Matty went to that ridiculous party at Kerys Joughin's house?"

"I remember being sick in her garden and Matty getting off with the girl I fancied" George recalled, making me snicker.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe that night didn't go as well as I remembered," I admitted as I sipped on my drink. "I thought it was funny though."

"Probably because I made a fucking idiot of myself. You ended up looking after me." He rubbed his hand over his face, cringing. "I'm sorry about that night by the way."

"What? For getting really drunk and trying to kiss me," I laughed. "G, we were 16, and for the record I probably would have let you if I hadn't just watched you yakking on the pavement." He hid his face in his hands, mortified.

"Why are you trying to relive teenage parties again? I really fucking hope tonight doesn't go like that," he groaned.

"Hopefully it won't, besides, when we were that age it was like you had some insane motivation to be the drunkest person in the room every single time," I reminisced, drumming my fingers on the side of my glass before drinking some more of it.

"At least I didn't take every single stimulant like I had a personal vendetta against sleep," he jabbed, giving me a light elbow. "What kind of 15 year old drinks Buckfast?"

"What kind of man gets found headfirst in a bin?" I retorted.

"It makes for a good story," he maintained, and I was somewhat inclined to agree. I finished my drink and refilled it, moving towards the doorway.

"I better go next door, you coming?” I asked, looking at him over my shoulder. He nodded, pushing himself away from the side. Together we walked into the living room. Leon grinned as I walked in, standing up from his seat on the floor next to the settee and giving me a hug.

“Better late than never, eh?” he joked. I stuck my tongue out at him childishly and he ruffled my hair.

“Hey,” I scolded. “Don’t do that, I’m not a dog.”

“Not a dog, but definitely a bitch,” Kirsten piped up from the sofa where she sat, sandwiched between Danny and Hann. She winked, a big smile stretching across her face.

“Fucking hell, I didn’t come here to get bullied,” I complained.

“Aww, babe, do you want a hug from Matty,” Matty cooed, opening his arms to me from his seat on the sofa. Ross rolled his eyes, moving over to make space for me to sit. I fell down onto the couch next to Matty and he squeezed me into his side before letting me go as he reached to refill his wine glass.

“George, sit down, you’re making me nervous,” I told the drummer, who was still stood in the doorway. “Come on, there’s room. Squidge over Ross,” I instructed, gesturing with my hand. I shuffled towards Matty, allowing George to occupy the space between myself and Ross.

As the drink flowed and joints were passed from hand to hand, the conversation became lighthearted and full of banter. I leaned into George with my legs pulled up onto the seat, knees resting on his thigh and his arm resting along the back of the settee. He toked on the spliff, tipping his head back and exhaling, the passed it to me, his fingertips just brushing over mine. I took a few drags, inhaling the smoke into my nose in a little plume. George’s arm brushed the back of my neck as I leaned into the cushions and the contact made my skin flush hot in response. I felt pretty crossfaded, the vodka and weed had hit me both in equal measures. Matty stood up from his seat quickly like a jolt of electric had run through him, grinning widely.

“Everybody,” he announced, swinging his wine glass round precariously to gesture the group. “Let’s do smash or pass.” I groaned.

“Fucksake, Matty. Can’t we just talk like adults?” I protested, but he shook his head.

“Nah, boring. Smash or pass, except it’s people in the group. Right, Kirsten, would you smash or pass… Hann?” Matty asked her, steamrollering ahead with his plan. She giggled, tilting her head to the side as she looked over the sandy haired man next to her. Trust Kirsten to indulge in the game.

"Adam would get it, to be fair," she admitted coyly, and Hann looked slightly awestruck for a moment, making me chuckle. "Right, my turn to pick. (Y/n), thoughts on Matty?"

"He's alright," I replied facetiously, making her scoff at me.

"That's not the game and you know it," she pushed, and I could see her motivation clearly. She was trying to set me up with him. I glanced at Matty, who was stood waiting for my response with a self assured smirk.

"I'd pass," I said simply, unable to hide my smile when Matty's face dropped, having been ready for me to sing his praises. He looked at me in disbelief.

"You're such a liar, babe," he joked, already teasing.

"You're just not my type," I told him stubbornly. He took a couple of steps closer to the sofa and bent down over me, his dark eyes imploring as he grinned, waiting for me to admit. His arm rested on the back next to George's hand, trapping me in. I set my gaze, meeting him with cool indifference, and he leaned down further, trapping my lips in an unexpected kiss and catching me totally off guard. As his tongue worked to part my lips I heard Kirsten squeal in excitement and suddenly became conscious of our audience and rested a hand on his face, pushing him away. He looked at me smugly.

"The truth?" he prompted, and I sighed exasperatedly.

"You're mental. If it matters that much to you then fine, smash," I relented.

"Thought so," he responded audaciously, and I heard Ross audibly groan.

"You're an absolute pest, mate," he told his curly haired friend, who just shrugged and turned his attention to George.

"George, fuck, marry, kill: me, (Y/n), Kirsten," Matty quizzed. I turned my head to look at George, who had a kind of pained expression.

"I thought we were doing smash or pass," he protested.

"I changed my mind," explained Matty. "Now, fuck, marry, kill?"

"Fuck (Y/n)," responded George with surprising conviction. Apparently it hadn't taken that much time for him to make his decision there. "Then I have to marry Matty, because we pretty much spend every second together anyway. I'm sorry Kirsten, I'm going have to kill you," he said apologetically. She tutted in mock offense.

"Aww, Georgie" cooed Matty. "Is this a proposal? Mum always said we were gonna tie the knot one day." George rolled his eyes at the singer's antics, unable to hide his smile.

"Yeah, Matty, that's how the game works. I'll give you the ring after I've shot Kirsten and fucked (Y/n)" he joked, making my eyes widen slightly. He caught my eye and winked.

"(Y/n)," said Kirsten from the other sofa, making me look at her. "Your turn. Fuck, marry, kill: George, Danny and Ross?" I glowered at her, but she didn't seem to notice.

"That's not fair, I don't wanna kill Ross, I love him," I complained.

"Great, thanks," said Ross sarcastically, making the group laugh.

"I've obviously got to marry Danny because he's my best mate and also a domestic god," I explained. Danny blew me a kiss across the room which I pretended to catch and pocket. "Then fuck George and kill Ross." I turned to Ross. "I'm sorry darling."

"Ha, Mopsy. You and George said each other for fuck, that means you have to do it," teased Leon, a childish grin on his face. I scoffed, hoping the heat on my face wasn't visible.

"What? And if two people say each other for kill they have to fight to the death?" I rebutted, making him laugh. "I swear to god Leon, can we not play one game without you writing your own rules?"

"Do you remember trying to play Birdseye potato waffles with Leon?" recalled Danny. "You added the rule that you couldn't say a food containing gluten, it was fucking impossible."

"Birdseye potato waffles are waffley versatile they go with;" began Matty, and I shot him a look.

"Gammon," shouted Leon.

"Curry," went Matty.

"Come on, we aren't seriously-" I protested, cut off by George.

"Rice Krispies," he added in, and I looked at him betrayed.

"Tomatoes," said Kirsten. I sighed, giving in.

"Baklawa."

"That's got gluten in!" Leon interrupted.

"We're not playing the gluten version!" I argued back.

"Keep going! Keep going!" Matty prompted, insistent on persisting.

"Sourdough," Danny piped up.

"That's also got gluten," said Leon, causing the rest of the group to go mental at him.

---

A few hours later everyone was quite drunk, and after doing some silly dancing with Matty I ended up sat at the table in the garden with Hann discussing cameras and tours and everything in between. He'd brought his new Leica out from his room for me to look at properly.

I lined him up in the view finder and he grinned, holding up the bottle we'd been sharing, and I snapped a photo, the flash lighting him up. I handed him back his camera and he turned the lens round on me.

"Hang on a minute," I stopped him, pulling myself up from my seat and standing on it instead, pulling the hood of the 1975 tour hoodie over my head and lighting my cigarette. It could have belonged to any of the boys but Hann reckoned I'd be cold so he got it for me. "Right, Hann, you're creative director now. What pose am I doing?" I asked him.

"I thought it was going to be a bit more candid to be honest," he replied, and I shook my head.

"Nah, not my style."

"Just stay like that then for a second," he instructed, and I toked my cigarette and looked down the camera, trying not to blink when the light hit my eyes. He took another couple photos of me doing silly poses, then snapped a sneaky one after I had sat down, as I looked back over at the doors to the bottom floor of the flat. Hann turned the camera screen to me, showing me the image.

"That's actually pretty cool, send me them please," I told him, surprised that I actually liked how I looked in the photograph.

"Of course I will. I can go in and put them on my computer now if you like. It's fucking freezing out here," he said, pulling his jacket around himself.

"It's no rush. You can go back in, you know. I'm just going to finish this cig," I smiled, and he nodded, standing from his seat.

"Don't freeze to death out here then," he warned me, bending down to give me a quick hug.

"Don't worry, I'll be in in a minute."

Hann went inside and I finished my cigarette before heading in after him. I walked towards to kitchen to get another drink, but something made me stop outside the door as I heard Matty and Ross' voices.

"Yeah mate, it's mental. She just fucks and fucks and fucks, and her tits are just amazing," I heard Matty tell Ross, allowing myself to eavesdrop in the doorway. "It's great as well, because it's totally no strings, no feelings. It's just mindless sex," he continued, sounding proud. My heart dropped, frustration rising up inside of me, hoping to all hell he wasn't talking about me.

"Who is she then?" Ross asked, and I listened as closely as I could, my breath held. Please, Matty, I thought, please be talking about someone else.

"Shouldn't really tell you mate."

"Fucking hell, man. It's someone we know isn't it?" Ross figured out. Matty's next words were to quiet for me too decipher, and I couldn't see his face so I didn't know what was going on. I tried to tune into it, but the next words Ross said I heard fully well, and they made my blood boil. “It’s (y/n)? Fucking hell man, how did you swing that?”

I stood in shock, hovering behind the door. I didn’t want anyone to know I was sleeping with Matty, and he was fully aware of that. I didn’t want anyone to think there were any feelings between us, or that either of us were off limits, or that maybe somehow that was how I managed to get us on this tour. He'd already pushed things with the kiss tonight. The band had worked hard to get here. If Matty was telling Ross, then I had no idea who else he’d shared the same sordid details with. For the first time since Matty and I had started having sex, I felt a deep shame in the pit of my stomach.

I stepped around the door into the room, furious, but keeping it suppressed. Matty immediately looked mortified when he saw me, clearly having been caught out. His mouth opened and shut a couple of times, as though he was some kind of guilty goldfish. He was trying to think of something to say, but he wasn’t certain how much I’d heard. He looked at Ross as if for help, but Ross stood there next to him, looking slightly ashamed. I glared at both of them, walking round the table to them and taking the vodka bottle they were quite clearly drinking from.

“Do you mind if I take this?” I asked, my voice laced.

“Nah not at all,” Ross replied, giving me an apologetic look, which I ignored. I was too angry to forgive him just yet, although I knew deep down he hadn’t really done anything wrong. Matty, on the other hand, was watching me like a sad puppy. I almost scowled, ready to bite his head off, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, so instead I just kept glaring, trying to express my opinion through eye contact alone. It seemed to be working. Matty almost cowered away from me. I took a swig from the bottle, drunk enough to not mind the burning taste. Matty looked almost wounded, and that made me even more furious at him. I turned and left the kitchen, and when I was in the corridor I could hear Ross speak to him, and I could almost see the self-pitying expression on his face.

"Go after her," Ross hissed, and I quickly walked down the corridor, hoping Matty would ignore his friends advice. I took the second door, going into the bathroom. Head swimming with booze, I opened the window a crack and sat myself in the bath, dragging one fag out of the packet in the pocket of my jeans and sparking it, taking two desperate drags before I had another swig of vodka. My heart was thundering in my chest, pounding in my ears like it did before I went on stage. I took three deep breaths and then I couldn't hold back the tears spilling out of my eyes, feeling myself choke up, the horrible kind of crying which made my throat ache. I ran my fingers in a square shape on my thigh, counting all four sides and inhaling with each line until I could breathe properly again. It unsettled me, how quickly things had got out of hand. I heard Matty's footsteps along the hall, hoping to god he would just go back to the living room without seeing me.

I had no such luck. The door pushed open with a creak and I regretted not locking it. Matty stood in the doorway, giving me a guilty look. I wiped under my eyes with the back of my wrist unsubtly, sniffing.

"Babe," he began. I cut him off.

"Piss off, Matty," I spat, taking another drag of my cigarette and avoiding looking at him.

"No," he replied obstinately. He moved to sit on the toilet seat, next to the bathtub, leaning on his elbows with his face turned in my direction. "You shouldn't drink all that vodka, even if you are mad at me. It'll make you sick."

I turned to him, making direct eye contact and a taking a few gulps from the bottle out of spite. It made my eyes brim with tears again, but I held a good poker face, simply driven by proving a point. He sighed, putting his head in his hand, and I resented him being exasperated by me. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"You know that I'm sorry, right?" he said, and I bristled at his not-apology.

"You don't seem it," I responded finally. "Who did you tell?"

"Just Ross, what about you?" he asked me back. I couldn't believe his audacity.

"Fucking no one," I snapped, and he raised his hands in indignation. "I said I didn't want you to tell anyone."

"Why though? I thought we were fucking because you're distracting yourself with sex and physical affection so you can continue to pretend that love doesn't exist and distance yourself from your emotions."

I looked at him in shock, wondering why he felt the need to psychoanalyse me so bluntly.

"You don't know anything about me, Matty," I mumbled, feeling vulnerable.

"Bollocks, I've known you since we were both in high school back in Wilmslow. Anyway, it's not like we've been hiding it," he reasoned.

"People finding out and you telling them in explicit detail are two different things," I hissed back. I took another big swig of alcohol, leaning my head back against the porcelain. We weren't getting anywhere with this conversation drunk. He knew he'd done something wrong, that's why he was so defensive. I pulled myself up by the metal handles on the inside of the bath, stubbing my cigarette out on the side of the bath and keeping the bottle clutched in my left hand. My head spun slightly and I wobbled a little as I stepped out of the tub. "I'm going next door," I told him.

Hann, Ross, Kirsten, Leon and Danny were all sat around the coffee table. Danny smiled when he saw me, pulling me down to the seat next to him on the sofa and putting his arm around my shoulders. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and I couldn't help but grin. He was quite drunk, I could tell, but I squeezed him back.

"She's back!" he announced, just loud enough to be heard over the music. "This is my best friend everyone, not sure if you know her," he continued to tease me as I shied from the attention. He continued, ruffling my hair and making me smile at his enthusiasm. Drunk Danny was a different person. "We have been friends since we were 12 years old, and now," he checked his watch, making everyone laugh. "15 years later we're here." I gave him a grateful hug and a kiss on the cheek in return for his.

Matty came in a couple of minutes later, and sitting awkwardly in the group became a bit too awkward for me. I excused myself to get another drink, and as I stood up from the sofa my head swam again, heart racing and almost constricting in my chest as I left the room. I went over to the sink, wanting to rid myself of the too drunk, queasy feeling. I leaned over the sink and after retching once my stomach emptied into the basin. I spluttered a couple of times, then lifted my head, jumping when I saw Ross looking at me alarmed. I realise how the situation might have looked.

"Don't worry, I'm not having a mental breakdown," I clarified, and he looked at me concerned. "This was tactical. I’m not actually that drunk, my stomach was just protesting the neat vodka," I tried to explain. He didn't look convinced, but moved on.

"I'm sorry about before, I know you were upset," he began, his apology already better than Matty's. I shook my head, stopping him.

"You're alright Ross, I don't mind. You didn't do anything, and besides, I trust you," I reassured him, and he gave me a thankful nod.

"How long has that been going on for?" he asked, out of genuine curiousity.

"On and off since 2013," I told him honestly, and he spluttered in surprise.

"Fuck, really? That long?"

"Yeah, now Ross?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep your mouth shut about it," I instructed him sternly. He crossed his heart and nodded solemnly, making me smile. "I'm sorry for killing you in fuck, marry, kill," I added, and he chuckled.

"It's okay. You're forgiven," he replied.

"I wish it was fuck, marry, hug instead," I continued.

"You can have a hug now if you want," he offered, and I nodded, stepping into his open arms for a big Ross squeeze. I tried not to let my emotions overcome me again.

"Thanks Ross, is George about? I don't wanna bother him."

"He's in his room probably, you won't bother him," Ross told me and I nodded. Ross gave me another squeeze and left to join the others and I walked down the corridor to George's room.

I knocked on George’s door. It was impossible to sit with Matty and the others. I was angry still, but that had subsided slightly after talking to Ross, just leaving me embarrassed and feeling quite betrayed. There was no response, so cautiously I pushed open the door, hoping he was awake still.

He looked up when I came in. He was sat in the dark, almost, his face lit up by his laptop screen and a spliff in his hand. He placed it in his mouth as he pulled his headphones down so they sat around his neck. He was sat on top of the duvet, wearing just a t-shirt and boxers, laptop balanced on his lap. I could see the Apple logo glowing on the back of it.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Hey," he replied, removing the spliff from his mouth and resting it on the edge of the ashtray. "What's up?"

"Sorry, am I bothering you?" I asked sheepishly. He smiled at something to himself, shaking his head.

"No, not at all. Well, I was messing around on Logic but to be honest I got distracted watching YouTube videos," he admitted, and I smiled a little wanly. I hovered in the doorway for a moment, then ultimately decided to step in the room, shutting the door gently behind me.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't handle being downstairs, I..." I hesitated, unsure of how to explain myself. "I'm in a bit of a mood. You know. Men."

George chuckled.

"Yeah. Men," he agreed. He shuffled over, patting the bed beside him. "Come have a seat, princess. You can tell me all about it." He paused, seeing my expression. "Or we can just have a spliff," he offered instead. I nodded.

"Sounds good," I told him.

"I can put some trackies or something on if you want," he suggested, but I shook my head.

"Nah, it's hot in here, and you look comfy," I responded.

"It's a bit weird if only one of us is wearing trousers though." I rolled my eyes dramatically.

"Fine. Fuck it. Underpants party," I announced, unbuttoning my jeans and taking them off clumsily. I was drunker than I thought, and George was in a fit of giggles as my feet kept getting caught in the denim and tripping me up. I pulled them off with a flourish, dropping them to the floor and plonking myself on the bed next to him as he recovered from his hysterics, wiping the water from his eye.

"You're a riot, princess." He reached over to his side table, turning on the lamp so we weren't sat in the total darkness, then passed me the ashtray with the spliff resting in it. "There, have that. I'm pretty baked already."

"Cheers," I said, taking it from him. "Is there a lighter there? I'd use mine but..."

"But what?"

"It's in my jeans," I confessed, and he started laughing again, so infectiously that I joined in. Eventually, I regained composure, lighting the spliff again and taking a few long drags. George watched me do so.

"What's happened with this guy then?" he asked, looking at me condolingly.

"Oh, well, it's nothing serious," I immediately clarified, hoping George wasn't rapidly slipping into the imaginary 'friend zone'. "I just can't be arsed with it right now. Put me in a bit of a bad mood you know."

"Aww, princess," he sympathized. I rested my head on his shoulder and he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.

"Everyone probably thinks that we're fucking," I stated, aware that by disappearing to George's room I probably hadn't done myself any favours.

"We aren't though, are we?" he replied. I chuckled slightly.

"Not the last time I checked," I joked, sitting up again. George looped his arm over my shoulder so that we were both more comfortable, leaning against the headboard. His thumb ran little circles on my shoulder as I toked the spliff.

"They'd know if we were fucking. They'd hear," George pointed out, and I wondered if he knew how fucking dirty those words sounded in his low timbre. He shifted his weight, seemingly oblivious.

"You're quite confident," I teased, baiting him slightly.

"You wouldn't be quiet if I was fucking you," he said, making my breath hitch. I turned my head to look at him but he appeared casual despite his lewd words, looking more sleepy than horny. He looked back at me through half lidded eyes. I glanced at his lips momentarily, and there was a tension palpable in the air, but I was drunk and high and I didn't know how much of the moment was conceptualised by my inebriated mind. I looked away again, picking at a hangnail before placing the spliff between my lips once more.

"I believe you," I responded, finally, trying desperately to hide the reaction he had caused in me. I checked the time on my phone. "It's your birthday tomorrow," I noted, and George nodded.

"26. Not far off your 27th either, then it's Matty's," he added.

"Fuck, yeah. I'm gonna have to go visit my parents if we're going back to Manchester for your birthday," I sighed, then paused. "God, that's really ungrateful. I love them, I really do. It's just... Well, yeah. I'm a twat."

"You're not a twat," George reassured me. "Your parents are lovely, but I get why it's not that simple." I smiled, glad he didn't think I was being ridiculous.

"They're brilliant people, just not always the best parents. I don't resent them for it. They do amazing things, and I've turned out fine in the end," I admitted.

"More than fine," George complimented, and I grinned.

"You're such a charmer, G."

---

I didn't remember falling asleep but when I woke up I was facing away from George. His arms were wrapped around me, holding me against his chest with his head buried in the crook of my neck. At first I tensed up, but the feeling of closeness and security and the reassuring warmth radiating off him made me relax into his embrace. I wondered what it would be like to wake up this way every day before I caught myself.

Matty’s words from last night lingered in my mind. Was I using sex as a distraction? My mind filled with self doubt. I knew deep down why I was so scared of getting closer to George. It was the fear that we might start dating and then he’d gradually realise that I wasn’t as great as he hoped I was. George held more risk than any other person I had fancied in my life, because if George stopped liking me then I didn’t know if I could cope. He was my friend. We were close. We were around each other all the time.

We must have talked for hours last night. The ashtray by the side of the bed was full of joint roaches, and I remembered laughing so hard my cheeks hurt. I checked the time and realised that this might be the longest I'd slept through in weeks. Despite my urge to flee as fast as possible, I gave into the desire to sink back into George’s embrace, letting my eyes flutter shut again and enjoying his soft, warm breath on the back of my neck. Without even realising I slipped into sleep again, comfortable and content.

I’m not sure how much longer we slept for, but we both woke up when Hann burst through the door, not bothering to knock.

“George, I need to borrow your laptop charger… Oh, hello (Y/n),” he said, noticing me. I sat upright, rolling my shoulders to loosen the stiffness in them.

“Morning Hann,” I smiled.

“I didn’t think you were still here, I can do those photos for you this morning if you want,” he offered.

“Yeah, thank you. You’re a sweetheart,” I told him sincerely, and he smiled.

"Anything for you." He turned his attention to the sleepy drummer, addressing him less politely. "George! Laptop charger, where is it?"

George groaned, rolling himself over and resting his hand across my bare leg, not opening his eyes.

"By the bed," he murmured, pointing vaguely across at the floor. Hann retrieved it, stopping to give George a punch through the duvet before he returned to the doorway.

“Get up you lazy lump, (Y/n) is here,” he instructed, making me laugh.

“Piss off Hann, we’ll be up soon,” George grumbled into the pillow, rubbing his thumb in a circle on my thigh absentmindedly.

“Kettle’s on downstairs, don’t wait on him,” Hann told me firmly, and I nodded.

“It’s alright, mum. I’ll be down for brekkie,” I teased, and Hann took that as confirmation enough to go. I placed my hand over George’s. “G, you’re gonna have to let me go,” I told him, and he ignored me, instead just moving closer and resting his head on top of my thighs as if to prove a point. I ran my fingers through his hair for a minute, happy with how content he looked. “Georgie, I’ll roll a spliff if you get up,” I bartered, and I was surprised when he didn’t immediately sit up, but even after his hesitation between being comfy and weed, his heart won and he shifted himself upright. He stretched his arms out, groaning, and yawned.

"What time is it?" he asked me, and I showed him my phone screen displaying the time. "It's not even quarter to ten yet?" George pointed out, baffled.

"Yeah, well we have Birmingham today, then Wilmslow, then tour. It's a better sleep routine, I guess."

"Yeah, you'd know everything about a better sleep routine,” he ribbed.

“How’d you know that?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Because every time I wake up on the bus, you’re still awake having a spliff,” he shared, and I chuckled.

“Not much room for you in those bunks, is there?” I teased, making him roll his eyes in mock exasperation.

“I get it, I’m tall.”

“Ever think about becoming a basketball player?”

“Funny,” he responded dryly. “You making a spliff then?”

“Fucking hell, give me a minute.” I pulled myself up and out of bed, stripping the t-shirt I’d slept off in an overtly provocative way and pretending I didn’t feel George’s gaze across my turned back as I did so. I pulled on the hoodie Hann had given me to wear last night, large as it was, then pulled on my jeans. I turned back to George, raising an eyebrow at him. “Enjoying the view?”

“There’s certainly worse things to wake up to,” he replied cockily, not bothering to hide the fact he’d pretty much been checking me out. My skin burned warmly at the idea.

I rolled the spliff and we both smoked it, with me resting my head against George’s stomach as we lay across the bed. Conversation continued, then lulled into quiet, sleepy companionship driven by the residual tiredness from last night and the fact that whatever weed I made the joint from was considerably stronger than I’d expected. As I felt like I was melding into George, I chuckled to myself.

“What?” he asked, curious as to what had amused me.

“Jesus, G. That green was a bit strong,” I grinned, and he laughed as well.

“Yeah, it is a bit, to be fair,” he admitted, absentmindedly running his fingers over my shoulder. “I could murder some breakfast though.”

“Let’s get up then,” I suggested. Neither of us made an effort to move. "George, we can't stay like this forever."

"We can try," he tempted, his touch trailing along my collarbone and brushing my neck. I let my eyes flutter shut, enjoying the feeling. It was a tender and reassuringly intimate gesture. After a moment though, my mind drifted to Hann making coffee in the kitchen and my stoned desire for food. I reluctantly sat up, pulling myself off of George's bed like I had been glued to it. He sighed as I slipped out of his reach.

"Come on, darling," I encouraged breezily, picking up his hand in both of mine and attempting to pull him out of bed with little success. Eventually he caved, pulling himself upright. He got up and pulled on some jeans and changed the t-shirt he’d accidentally fell asleep in. I tried my hardest not to look at his toned body, which was hard because he looked amazing with all his tattoos. Once he was dressed, I came up to him and went on my tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, having to place my hand on the back of his neck to guide him closer. He looked at me in surprise and I smiled, embarrassed.

“What?” he asked, wondering what he had done to earn my affection and why it seemed to amuse me.

“Thank you for everything last night. I really needed cheering up.”

He grinned, pulling me into a gentle hug, which I held for a little longer than normal. We went to the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Adam offered as I walked in. “I sent those photos in an email to you, I thought it would be better quality.”

“Thanks Hann, you absolute angel,” I told him gratefully, accepting the hot drink off him. Matty was sat at the table watching me guiltily. I ignored him, sitting down in the seat across from him and placing my phone on the table. George settled himself next to me. “Where’s Ross got to?”

“He’s in the shower, out in a minute if you want it?” Adam suggested.

“It’s okay, I’ll get one at mine when I grab my stuff.”

Matty stood up from his seat, going to the toaster and filling all four slots with bread. I tried not to watch him too much, still annoyed with him. It wasn’t so much what he’d done, but the way he’d acted afterwards towards me.

“What’s up with you this morning?” George asked him, reaching to poke him in the ribcage from his seat. Matty squirmed out of the way.

“Nothing. The plane,” he lied unconvincingly.

“The plane isn’t till the day after tomorrow,” George pointed out, and Matty bristled.

“Fine, I’m just being existential then,” he covered, giving me another look. I tsked.

“Right,” replied George. Ross walked in, drying his hair with a towel. He smiled when he saw me.

“I take it you stayed, then?” he grinned, looking between me and George. I shot him a warning look.

“Yeah, I got too stoned and fell asleep,” I informed him. George chuckled.

Matty placed a plate of Marmite on toast in front of me; a peace offering. He patted my shoulder and discreetly dropped a note into my lap.

“Brekkie for you, babe.” He picked up his coffee. “I’m going to check some of those fucking emails.”

“That’s weirdly organised for you, Matty,” Hann pointed out. Matty shrugged.

“Got to be done.” He left the room.

I looked down at the plate of food in front of me. Marmite on toast was tour food, so it came at a fitting time. It was also the food that Matty and I ate almost constantly when we were travelling. A shared passion, if you will. It was a very deliberate choice. I fiddled with the note he’d slipped me. The other boys were distracted talking about set up and rigs for the tour. I quietly unfolded the paper. It had been typed on his typewriter.

I’m sorry for being a dickhead, but I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.

I sighed. The small gestures were admittedly softening my frustration, but I hadn’t forgiven him just yet.

My phone buzzed loudly against the table top, making everyone look round. I lifted it up, checking the name. I declined the call. Not two seconds later it rang again and I sighed, reluctantly standing up.

“I’m sorry, I have to get this,” I explained weakly. George nodded understandingly, although I was sure he didn’t understand, and I stepped out into the hallway, finally bringing the phone to my ear.

“What do you want?” I demanded down the phone, keeping my voice level so that George, Hann and Ross couldn’t accidentally overhear me.

“Fucking hell, (Y/n). Settle down, like. Am I not allowed to call my own sister?”

“Fionn, I can’t handle you anymore. Not since christmas,” I explained through gritted teeth. I heard my brother chuckle infuriatingly. Every time he rang brewed up a new sense of worry and anger and confusion.

“I heard you were coming up to Wilmslow again tomorrow, I’ll meet you there. It would be good to see you again. You’re my sister and I don’t see you enough,” he rattled off his same old spiel calmly, completely ignoring everything I had just said. I took a deep breath.

“Please don’t tell me you’re coming because of me.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t ignoring me,” he argued, his tone changing. I tensed the muscles in my hand, attempting to dissuade my increasing frustration with his flippant nature.

“Mum and dad can’t handle this shit any more, Fionn,” I reasoned, but I should have realised that mentioning our parents would be an inflammatory move.

“Oh, darling fucking mum and dad. Jesus, (Y/n), what did they ever do for us?”

“They really aren’t as terrible as you like to convince yourself, Fionn. They’re good people.” I heard him scoff down the phone, then noticed Matty, hovering in the hallway. He watched me with sympathy that I resented. “Matty, piss off,” I hissed at him. He shook his head stubbornly, and I wondered why on earth I was surrounded by obstinate fuckwits.

“Fucking hell, (Y/n). You aren’t still hanging around with that Matty prick are you?” Fionn goaded from the other end of the line. I gestured Matty to leave again with a series of blunt hand gestures, but he just looked at me coolly, refusing.

“Yes, I’m still hanging around with that Matty prick. He won’t fucking piss off,” I emphasised, shooting him a look which he ignored again. “You are okay though, Fionn, right?”

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow about it, yeah?”

“No, you can speak to me now. Don’t fucking go to Cheshire. Tell me you’re fine,” I interrogated, conscious of Matty listening to the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded finally, and I ignored the agonising urge that told me to push him further on it. I couldn’t spent any more time fretting over him. It was doing me in.

“Then we have no reason to meet, so don’t fucking bother mum and dad again.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sis,” he replied in a tone in which I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He definitely wasn't sober. Before I had time to re-emphasise that he mustn’t go back to Cheshire, he’d hung up on me. I glanced at my phone screen in disbelief at his nerve. Anger rose up inside of me I let out a frustrated groan.

“You alright?” asked Matty, still hovering.

“I told you to piss off,” I snapped. He came closer to me, placing a hand on my arm.

“Yeah, and I ignored you because you look like you could do with some help.”

“It’s just my dickhead brother doing what he normally does. You know Fionn, he’s a prick.”

“He’s…” Matty paused, choosing his words. “He’s your brother.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” I sighed. “I wish he’d go to therapy or something, he needs it.”

“Get him to go,” Matty suggested, and I shook my head.

“He can’t afford it, and neither can I with the flat in London.”

“I can afford it.”

“Matty,” I warned him sternly. “Don’t you dare.”

“The money is just sitting there,” he protested, and I pulled a face.

“I don’t need you to pay for my stupid brother’s therapy. I just… I just need you to let me vent my frustrations,” I told him. To my relief he nodded an understanding. He pulled me into a hug, and I let him. “I still haven’t forgiven you for last night,” I pointed out as he released me.

“I’m sorry, I was a total twat,” he replied honestly.

“Yeah, you were.”

“But we can move past it?” he added, hopefully.

“I’m sure we can.”

[cuddlepilefics]

I know you can

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Seungmin

Caregivers: Minho, Felix, Jeongin

Seungmin likes to be independent. He doesn't need help when he's sick, he can handle himself.

No one’s POV.:

Minho gasped in shock when Seungmin joined them for breakfast. The vocalist was pale as a ghost but didn’t say anything, so the older frowned: “Are you okay, Seungmin-ah?” Seungmin sleepily looked up from his plate, seeming genuinely confused. “Yeah?”, he hummed, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Minho, Felix and Jeongin stared at him in disbelief before the maknae stated: “Have you looked into a mirror? You’re white as a sheet.” – “I am?”, Seungmin frowned, patting his cheeks, “Probably because I just woke up. My blood pressure is always a little low after sleeping. I just need to get moving and maybe have some coffee, then it should be fine.” His friends accepted that explanation because the vocalist had seemed so surprised by the question. If he was feeling unwell, he would’ve expected someone to point it out but he hadn’t looked like he had expected the question, so he must be feeling alright.

Seungmin did feel alright, so he didn’t understand why his friends eyed him worriedly. Yeah, he had gotten a bit lightheaded when he stood up from his bed too fast but that was easily explained with his blood pressure and the blood dropping to his feet. It might also have been the reason his face had paled for a moment but it should go back to normal once his body had adjusted to the change in position. Though Minho trusted his dongsaeng’s sincerity, he still kept a close eye on the other when they left their dorm and joined the other half of the group for their schedule. Chan too, shot Seungmin a worried look before making eye contact with Minho. Had something happened since they went home last night. The dancer only shrugged. He didn’t know what was up with their dongsaeng, only that he looked off. Seungmin didn’t act off though. He got himself a cup of coffee at some point, still feeling a bit lightheaded and getting dizzy if he moved too fast, so he figured some caffeine would help and for the time being, it did.

They had an interview in the morning, the makeup artist also pointing out his pale face. Seungmin assured her that he was fine and she accepted it, using some blush to make him look a little more alive. There was a low growling noise, but with how crowded and noisy the dressing room was, only Seungmin and the makeup artist tending to him were able to hear it. Still feeling pretty normal, the vocalist assumed that the coffee was messing with his digestion, which was why it felt like his breakfast wasn’t settling properly but since there was nothing he could do about it, he just hoped he wouldn’t look too bloated in front of the cameras. He also tried to stay as far from any microphone as possible, while he wasn’t speaking, to avoid it picking up the sounds of his still noisy tummy.

Once the interview was over, the group headed back to the company building for a dance practice and Seungmin looked almost well, though that was mostly due to the thick layer of makeup covering his skin. It took him no time at all to sweat through his shirt, which surprised him but he was well able to keep up with the rest of the group, so he brushed it off. The only disgusting part was that his makeup had started to run down his face and the sharp dance moves seemed to upset his stomach a bit. Seungmin could feel the organ churn and eventually had to admit to himself that something wasn’t right. His friends had been right this morning, something was up with him but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Minho was truly impressed at how well his dongsaeng kept up. He had watched Seungmin closely since that morning, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right with the boy. Though the younger kept up alright, Minho granted the group more breaks, not wanting the other to strain himself if he ended up not being on top of his game after all.

The group had lunch together after their dance practice but Seungmin barely had an appetite at all. His stomach was bubbling and he excused himself to the bathroom. Once there, he splashed cold water on his face and used the opportunity to wash off the smeared makeup. He was surprised by how sickly pale he looked under all the paint but what could he do? Seungmin was certainly glad that the rest of the afternoon consisted of only vocal practice with Jeongin. No more dancing. Sure, he had handled it but it hadn’t been pleasant and his stomach was still in knots. That was also why he only forced down a few bites, every time either Chan or Minho glanced at him with worry in their eyes. He could handle himself, he didn’t need his hyungs to worry about him. Jeongin too shot him one of those annoyingly concerned glances as they made their way to an empty studio to practice in, asking quietly: “Are you sure, you’re alright, hyung? You don’t look any better than you did this morning.” – “Are you calling me ugly?”, Seungmin gasped, pretending to be offended. “Always”, the maknae laughed before growing serious, “You know what I mean though.” Giving the younger a reassuring smile, Seungmin promised: “I’m just a little tired, Innie. Let’s just get this practice over with, yeah?”

They did but the exhaustion had been evident in Seungmin’s voice throughout and he was glad when they could finally go home. By now, his stomach had really started to hurt but he convinced himself that it was only because he hadn’t eaten much that day. Yet, he still had no appetite. His stomach rumbled loudly and the vocalist winced in pain as it cramped. Jeongin noticed it, asking again if the older was alright but Seungmin insisted, it was just hunger pains because he hadn’t eaten enough at lunch. What he hadn’t considered, was that the maknae would drag him to a small diner on the way back to the dorm, insisting they ate now. Seungmin cursed himself, of course his dongsaeng would try to help though he could handle himself. Not wanting to worry Jeongin further, the older forced down his food, despite feeling it sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach. He broke into a cold sweat as he swallowed the last few bites before pushing his plate away. Still, he was glad he had pushed himself to eat because Jeongin seemed reassured now and they quietly made their way back to the dorm.

The motion of walking hadn’t helped his stomach to settle like Seungmin had hoped it would and he felt queasier with every passing second. He was relieved when they arrived at the dorm and hurriedly kicked off his shoes. Pretending to head to his room to change into something comfortable, Seungmin took a detour to the bathroom, rushing to lock the door before he rushed over to the toilet, hunching over the clear water with a strained gag. He could still taste his dinner and felt it right there at the back of his throat but nothing happened. Until he forced a cough, that is. Within seconds, he felt the food he had just forced down shoot up his throat and strained to be quiet but there was no use. Now that it had started, his stomach couldn’t wait to expel everything he had ever eaten and soon being quiet was the least of his concerns as he barely managed to draw a breath between the waves.

Seungmin heard someone knock on the bathroom door but couldn’t answer, instead lurching forward again with another forceful retch. He didn’t even notice how the door clicked and startled when a hand appeared on his back. Though he wanted to check who was there with him, he didn’t get a chance to look up as he continued to be sick but Minho calmly rubbed his back through it all. When Seungmin sat back panting, he felt sweat run down his temple but didn’t care. His throat felt torn to shreds, while his abs had gotten incredibly sore within only a few minutes. Minho helped the younger sit back against the tub, frowning: “What’s going on?” Too exhausted to speak, the vocalist only shrugged and looked up at his hyung, when Felix appeared behind Minho, carrying a glass of water. Seungmin accepted the drink but his hands shook too hard not to spill it, so Minho had to steady his grip. Though feeling humiliated, the younger was grateful as he sipped the water, relieved that the cool liquid soothed his throat a little.

His relief was short lived as the few sips unsettled his stomach further, leaving him to scramble back over the toilet. Aside from the water, there wasn’t much for Seungmin to throw up anymore but he was unable to stop the dry heaves tearing at his throat. In between he choked out a plea for his hyungs to leave, to not look. While Felix resign to giving the younger some privacy, Minho stayed, promising: “I’m not looking. I’ll get you a cold cloth for your neck. You’re running quite a fever.” After draping the cold washcloth over the back of his dongsaeng’s neck, he sat back on the floor rubbing the other’s back. Seungmin shook from the strain but still struggled to calm his stomach until Minho reached around his waist and lightly traced circles over his tense middle. When the younger sat back, there were tears of exhaustion and pain on his cheeks, mixing with the sweat. “Do you think you’re done?”, Minho asked softly, tearing off a wad of toilet paper. Seungmin nodded, wincing a little when the older cleaned him up, making sure to also dab the sweat off his forehead. losing his eyes, Seungmin breathed: “You should’ve left, hyung. I can handle myself.” – “I know you can”, Minho agreed quietly, “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve support while handling yourself though.”

As Seungmin caught his breath, the other sensations finally got through to him. Not only was his stomach still cramping and his throat on fire, there was also a constant pounding in his head, either from the strain or the fever, probably both. His muscles ached, exhausted from the effort of being sick and he felt so weak. Minho gave the vocalist some time, moving the washcloth from his neck to his forehead. At some point, Jeongin poked his head into the bathroom informing: “We set up his room with a bucket and some towels. Hyung, why did you lie and say it was hunger pains? I wouldn’t have made you eat had I known you felt sick.” Seungmin only shrugged. He didn’t know either. Things would’ve probably been easier had he just owned up to how he felt but it had taken himself so long to figure out that something might actually be wrong, hiding it had just seemed like the logical thing to do.

When his stomach had mostly calmed down, Seungmin hesitantly mumbled: “I-I’d really like to go to bed but… I think I need help.” He still felt weak and could already predict the dizziness that would hit him once he stood up. “That’s perfectly fine”, Minho smiled, making eye contact with Jeongin, “We’ll help you get there, yeah? You can hold onto us, just tell us if you feel sick or faint.” Seungmin nodded, taking his hyung’s hands, so the older could pull him to his feet. His head spun and he anxiously tightened his grip, Jeongin rushing to his side to steady him. “It’s okay to take your time, just try to breathe deeply and once you’re ready to move, we’re taking you to bed”, Minho promised, his grip secure on the younger in case he should end up fainting. After a minute, Seungmin nodded, rasping: “I think, I’m okay now.” Not wanting to torture the boy longer than necessary, Minho and Jeongin quickly walked him to his room, so he could sit down on his bed.

Felix joined them with a cup of steaming ginger tea, hoping it’d ease the nausea a little and keep his friend from getting too dehydrated. “Can I get you anything else?”, the Aussie asked lowly. Seungmin shrugged hesitantly before humming: “My shirt is completely sweat through. There’s a really soft sweater onto of the left stack in my closet.” Felix knew exactly when sweater the younger meant. It was an old and washed out piece of clothing, yet it always brought the boy great comfort. While his dongsaeng went to retrieve the requested sweater, Minho helped Seungmin out of his sticky shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off the vocalist’s back and chest, so the sweater wouldn’t cling to him right away. When he was changed, Seungmin took a few careful sips of his tea and relaxed. He checked for the bucket next to his bed and felt safe enough to lay down for now. Felix and Jeongin told him to feel better and left, so their friend could get some sleep. When they were alone, Minho sat down on the edge of the mattress, humming: “I know you can handle yourself but should you want company or feel worse during the night, don’t hesitate to wake me, yeah? Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.” – “Thank you, hyung”, Seungmin breathed. Maybe having some support wasn’t so bad.

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. sugawara and kuroo

part 1 with bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima here!

genre: fluff!

synopsis: y/n, the manager of her school’s volleyball team, finds herself sick after days of hard  work, yet she still goes to school to support her team~ 

warnings: the reader is sick, and she passes out in kuroo’s scenario :))

pairings: sugawara x reader, kuroo x reader (separate!!)

total word count: 1.5k

a/n: OKAY SO HAHHSLKDFJ RIGHT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS CHAPTER I GOT SICK W/ A FEVER- I THINK I JINXED MYSELF OMG

i tried to make the scenario KINDA different, but with the same idea hehe

anYWAYS i’m so sorry if this makes like zero sense AHSLDKF- i wrote a lot while i was sick SO ill blame it on fever delusion if it flops 😌

OH AND THIS IS FOR @haikyuuheartsclub ty for reading the first one and asking for a part 2 hehe <33

You getting sick was inevitable.

You knew that you were bound to get sick with all of the work you had been doing and all of the late nights you spent preparing volleyball strategies, planning practice tournaments for your team, or studying until your eyesight blurred.

Being your school's volleyball team manager was not only hard, but it was ridiculously time consuming. Not to mention that you were bombarded with schoolwork, and you had exams coming up. Your stress levels had never been higher, and you were practically living off of caffeine with the amount of sleep you were always lacking.

So when you woke up with a sick feeling and the worst headache, you weren't completely surprised. Annoyed would have been a better word.

You knew that your team was getting ready for an important tournament, so you would have to stay extra long for practice. Groaning as you got ready, you weren't sure you could make it through the day.

You sluggishly pulled on a hoodie and brushed your teeth, taking note of how warm you felt as you washed your face. Grabbing a thermometer, you quickly measured your temperature.

100.4 Fahrenheit. Not too bad... just a low-grade fever. You tried to shrug it off and ignored how disgusting your body felt. You slung a backpack over your shoulder and walked out the door, heading to school.

You waited at the bus stop, shaking your head to try and make the sickness go away. When the bus arrived a while later, you plopped down onto the closest seat and you couldn’t stop your eyes from closing. You were just so... tired...

You drifted off to sleep, the soft sound of the bus driving across the road comforting you.

...

“Uh, Y/N?” Someone was shaking your side, and you immediately lifted your head from the bus window you were leaning on. It seemed like you just closed your eyes a second ago... where were you now?

"Mm?" you hummed sleepily, blinking slowly. You rubbed your eyes as the sunlight filtered through the window, and it made you feel warmer than you already felt.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but we’re already at school." You looked outside, and he was right; you saw Karasuno in the near distance. 

Your brain processed the fact that Sugawara, a third year from Karasuno’s volleyball team, was sitting next to you. You saw his blurred figure lean next to you, and he brushed some hair out of your face. His fingers grazed against your forehead, but he quickly froze. 

"Y/N- Y/N! Why is your forehead so hot?" He studied your face with concerned eyes, noticing how tired you looked.

"Hm? No, it’s not. It wasn’t that high when I checked... probably the sunlight..." you mumbled, leaning on the back of your bus seat behind you. You put a hand on your forehead, and it confirmed that you were indeed burning up; it was considerably warmer than earlier in the morning. You groaned and got up.

"You don’t look too good, don't you think you should go home-" Sugawara started, but you interrupted him.

"No, you need your manager today, you guys have a game soon," you said, your tone tired but strict. Sugawara eyed you anxiously, but you waved him off. "I'll be fine," you reassured him. Grabbing your backpack, you got up from your seat, heading for the bus’ exit.

Woah.

You knew you were sick, but you didn't think you would be this dizzy. Everything seemed to sway to one side, and you put one arm on the seat of the bus, leaning on it for support. You rested your head on your arm, and you felt Sugawara’s arm wrapping around you for support.

“Alright, now you have no choice. You’re taking a break, whether you like it or not, clearly something’s not okay,” he told you, and you were too lightheaded to argue. You just nodded along and he helped you back into your seat. 

You clutched your head as you tried to make everything go away. Sugawara went to talk to the bus driver in the background, and miraculously, the driver made an exception for you.

“We’re ahead of schedule anyways,” the bus driver reasoned. He turned the bus around, heading back towards your house.

“Okay, now that that’s done, you can sleep if you want to. You could probably use the rest, I can only imagine how tired you are...” Sugawara said softly, and you gave a small nod. You scooted further down into the seats, making enough space for the boy to sit next to you. He gladly obliged, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you drifting off to sleep. Your head subconsciously drifted onto his shoulder, but he didn’t mind.

“Hey, Koushi?” you mumbled, your voice coated with sleepiness.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing... I just wanted to thank you.” Your eyes remained closed, and Sugawara couldn’t tell if the blush on your face was from your fever... or something else? 

“You need to take breaks, you know. You work really hard, it’s a wonder you haven’t dropped dead yet,” he said, half jokingly. “Thank you.” You smiled, and finally fell asleep.

Kuroo found you in the classrooms; your head was down, and your headache was terrible. You were almost asleep; you were trying your best to stay awake, and you weren't sure how long you could keep it up.

He was walking down the halls, casually glancing into your classroom to see if you were finished, and he softly smiled at the sight of you.

"Tired, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, smirking as he tapped your shoulder.

"Hm?" You lifted your head up, surprised at the unexpected touch. "Oh- Kuroo, shut up," you replied, rolling your eyes as you stretched. He laughed and grabbed your backpack for you, slinging it over his own shoulder.

“Ready for practice?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, and the two of you walked to the gym.

Your head was killing you with every step you took, but you had no choice but to ignore it. You looked to the distance, trying to ease your headache. Kuroo’s voice was slowly melting into background noise. 

Suddenly you froze and stopped walking, earning a curious glance from Kuroo. You were forgetting something...

“Wait- where’s my... backpack?” You spotted it on the boy next to you, and you shook your head. “Sorry, forgot that you had it,” you said, with a sheepish laugh.

“Something wrong?” he frowned. “You’re acting distracted... more distracted than usual, anyways.” You shook your head, deciding to keep your sickness to yourself.

“I’m good, just tired,” you assured him. He nodded slowly, and walked into the gym, you following close behind.

Only you, Kuroo, and the coaches were in the gym; you were early. You flashed a quick smile as you waved hello.

"Great, you guys are early. I have a couple strategies to discuss," the coach said, gesturing to a whiteboard in front of him. The two of you nodded, and he began to explain.

"Alright... if we're going to win this next match..." he started, but you couldn't make yourself pay attention. The only thing on your mind was how your head wouldn't stop hurting, everything seemed to echo, and just overall how sick you felt.

"What do you think, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You snapped out of your sleepy state at the sound of your name.

“Wha-” You blinked, looking around at all of the eyes on you. You tried to remember what the others were talking about... oh. Strategies. Right. "I just think we... we need to..." You looked at thr whiteboard, but you couldn't focus. You swayed to one side, blinking hard. The world really seemed like it was tilting to one side... "Woah, sorry-" you tried to say.

"Y/N?" You saw Kuroo reach out towards you as you slowly lowered down into a fetal position, resting your head on your knees. "Hey, Y/N? You okay?" You swallowed.

"Yea- yeah. Just... give me a second," you breathed. You felt Kuroo kneel down next to you, and you were right; someone's arm wrapped around you for support, and you knew it was Kuroo's. You knew you were safe as you lost consciousness, falling further into his arms.

...

You awoke, and the first thought was how bright the gym lights were... they weren't this bright before...

"Oh- Y/N! You're awake," Kuroo said, rushing over to you. He put the back of his hand on your forehead. "You're still burning..." he said with a frown.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I don't know, I've been sick all day and I guess I couldn’t handle it..."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren’t feeling well?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. You smiled softly.

"It wasn't important... besides I have manager duties to take care of," you said with a sigh.

"Not if I can help it." He picked you up in one swift motion bridal-style, smirking as you struggled to get down. "I'm not letting you down; I'm taking you home and getting you some proper medicine for this fever of yours. Health is more important than volleyball." You huffed and flopped into his arms in defeat.

"Fine." You leaned closer into Kuroo's chest, and he smiled, satisfied with your surrender.

"That's my girl." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile.

A/N: THESE WERE NOT THE BEST- I ADMIT BDHDDJNDJEW

hopefully these weren't too bad though-

haikyuu taglist: (send an ask to get added hehe) @floralkawa <3

MWAHH THANK YOU FOR READING!!

[stoneworldsimp]

the dying poet

senku x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of food/water deprivation, swearing

day seven.

fuck, fuck, FUCK!

it felt like you had been running for hours, trying to shake this wild animal off. you made sharp turns behind large bushes in hopes of losing it, you’d hold as still as possible behind large roots on the ground, but the animal kept finding you in one way or another.

“please go away,”you panted. “c’mon. you’ve been chasing me fucking forever, can’t you just give up?!”

you were tired; your legs were about to buckle in on themselves. dinner one night was suddenly ruined when you realized the fucker was watching you eat. in the beginning you thought it was only after your food, not you; you threw a random ration away from your camp in hopes to get it away from you. in hindsight, it only worked until you fell asleep.

you were lucky to wake up the next morning alive; your set up had been ripped to shreds, and footprints were on the ground around your body. it was painstakingly slow and nerve wracking to escape your position, but once you had everything you absolutely needed, you booked it.

sprinting for miles after miles proved to be very difficult for quite some time now.

the phone...it’s weighing me down. my bag of food isn’t even half as heavy as the phone.

looking down at the call button in your hand, you thought about tossing the phone. maybe i can fix it.. no, i don’t have any tools, the fucking animal chewed on them like dog bones. is there any way to put the wire back together...?

“FUCK my life!”

you took the phone off your back and threw it to you left, careful not to trip yourself in the process. immediately, you and your body felt the difference. with your new found energy, the run away was becoming easier, and helped you see a large cave just over the horizon. using the last of your energy, you took as large of steps as you can, and practically threw your body into the cave. the animal’s footsteps were nowhere to be heard, but you figured you didn’t want to take any chances and look behind you. you were finally breaking free from being chased, just a little deeper into this cave, and if i can find specific markings then i can backtrack—

a deep, loud rumble took you away from your thoughts. in no time, you were engulfed in dust and thick particles you didn’t know of.

the caved had closed in.

day one.

“i can do it.”

“are you sure? its a pretty perilous trip—“

“you should at least bring one other person with you—“

you sighed, exasperated that you had to defend your case once again. it had been days since the decision was made; you were going to make a trip to another part of the island in hopes to find extremely specific materials for one of senku’s projects... and it was far, far away.

quite frankly, you were the only one fit for the adventure. you were known to travel well on foot, had an exceptional sense of direction and you had a good eye for natural elements, as well as food; you also were unintentionally the least helpful when staying in the village. you didn’t have the crafting skills to successfully make glass or metal components for his experiments, and you never trusted your brain when helping senku with calculations and blueprints.

hearing senku and gen talk about this long trip to another part of the island was almost a dream come true. it was perfect for someone with your skillset, and kept you from being in the way of everybody else.

“it’ll be fine. c’mon, you guys have SOME faith in our traveler, right?”

you turned around, a smile on your face as you caught senku walking out of his lab. thank you, you mouthed.

once senku reached you and the group of villagers crowding near you, he spoke up again. “this trip is a straight shot from the bridge, the only problem would be that it’s going to take some time. possibly a month just to get there. but you,” he turned to face you,”have excellent outdoorsy-type skills that will make it really easy for you to spot what we need right away. everyone needs to stop worrying, because you’ll be there and back in no time. two months will pass like nothing.”

as the rest of the group walked away, mumbling their skepticisms, senku took your hand and tugged you back to the lab.

“what’re you taking me here for? oh wait,”you planted your feet at the front of the lab curtains, keeping the both of you from entering. “are you making me help you with your math again? because—”

“no, you’re pretty terrible at calculations,”he replied. “i have something for you.”

you puffed out your cheeks in embarrassment, but your expression completely changed once the curtain was opened.

on the table, there was a telephone. if was the size of a backpack, but it still had a speaker, a microphone, and a call button.

“i made it for you to take on the trip, in case you have any emergencies. i fully trust you in your own survival skills, but you never know if something extreme happens.”

you gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. as you walked closer to the table, you touched the outer fabric. you turned back to senku. “thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me. i’m only making something that’s essential to your travels.”

“even still,” you trailed off. “i appreciate it.”

you turned back around and beamed at senku. “i’m not going to call you until i get there. i want to make sure that no enemies try to tail me if they hear me, as much as i’d want to give in right away and hear your voice. something like that...”

“how corny.” senku smiled and pulled you close while you laughed. you jumped a bit when his hands made their way around your waist.

“a bit touchy today,” you asked, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “but i’m not complaining.”

“i’m stockpiling the feeling of you for the weeks to come. we’ve never spent this much time apart before; it’s only logical.”

“i guess you’re right.”

he kissed you, multiple times; each one was deeper than the last.

day eleven.

he brought me a flower every morning, because i always slept in later than him. he’d wake up at the asscrack of dawn, just to have more time to jot ideas down. i used to try and pull him back to sleep with me, but he was so overflowing with plans, i didn’t want to stop him.

you turned on your side.

i remember he went to explore with chrome really early one morning, and apparently they found some huge meadow with a bunch of plants. ever since then, he would bring me a different kind; it was always a single flower, too. they were different colors and shapes, and some were enormous and some were smaller than my finger. he never woke me up for it, though. he would just leave it for me when i woke up on my own. it was always a surprise, almost startling when i’d open my eyes. it was my own pick-me-up for the day, in a sense.. no matter what happened the night before, waking up to a new type of flower would put me in a good mood every time. it was better than a coffee in the morning.

i wonder if he’s looking at the flowers with chrome everyday while i’m gone. man, i still wake up hoping to see a new one in front of me.

sure, reminiscing was fun and felt good, but what’s the point? you had eaten all of your food approximately two days ago, you only had about a teaspoon of water left, and there was no getting out of there. the way you came in had been covered in a dam of rocks. you couldn’t even dig yourself out.

you furiously wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. “senku...why did i think i could go alone?”

day fifteen.

poke, poke—

something was touching you. no, someone was touching you. your head bobbed side to side, in an attempt to shake them off.

damn, that’s persistent.

opening your eyes, you woke up to senku smiling. he was knelt beside your form. “wake up, sleeping beauty! it’s been almost three hours.”

it’s only been three hours?!

you sat up way too fast, and felt lightheaded as you tried to ask,”but...why didn’t you.. wake me up earlier? did everybody...did everyone eat already?”

he laughed. “yeah, sorry. we all thought you were out doing something with chrome. but,” he turned around, to grab something behind him,”i saved some in case you got hungry when you came back.”

you took the food in a dizzy haze. was it even food? you didn’t care too much, it felt like you hadn’t eaten for a long time. any food at this point was good food.

you couldn’t even swallow the first bite. “do you- is there..any water?”

“what?” senku pulled away from you, a look of disbelief painted across his face. it was clear as day.

you hesitated, feeling more lightheaded than before. “w- water?”

“don’t you remember?” he asked. he turned away from you. “there hasn’t been any water in days.”

it’s been days.

your body jolted from its spot, and harsh reality hit you square in the face.

yes, right. you shakily rubbed your eyes to make sure they weren’t cemented shut.

in the cave, finished your food, no water to be found. making yourself walk around was no use, either; without the fuel, your body was essentially just a trembling mess.

you scowled at yourself; unsure of what to do, what to even think.

day eighteen.

you remembered how he kissed you. the first kisses the most; you always had to tell him to not look so terrified. you also had to remind him to not stand like a statue when you kissed. pretty soon, after some reassurance, he got comfortable. there was nothing but confidence in the way he caressed your face in his hands. usually he was the one to pull away; you were so mesmerized, it felt as if the world completely stopped.

they were always quick and out of the way in public. usually, it was on your forehead or your one of your cheeks. the deep kisses you felt when you two were alone were incomparable. soft lips remained on yours for what felt like centuries. he tasted sweet, in his own way—

wait, who?

you licked your lips slowly, trying to think.

it was no use; you couldn’t even remember what he looked like. you lolled your head to the side and stared at the outline of a rock a couple of feet away.

once i get out of here, i’ll kiss him. whoever it was. it won’t matter if it’s just us, or more people. i’ll kiss him forever.

maybe if i go to sleep.. i can see him again.