#just relaxing and dinner and maybe a bunch of Tumblr scrolling

[izzy-b-hands]

To Do for tomorrow (in theory at least, if the spoons are there to let me manage all of it)

-One last load of laundry (that idk where im gonna put bc im outta room but. I'll figure it out)

-clean bathroom sink

-swiffer all the floors (that are safely swifferable)

-double check my room and hide any sex toys still sitting out (in my defence, my toys my room my choice where they go, but also, i think a dildo can be a nice centerpiece on a desk or shelving unit top. Ties my whole room together!)

-pause the Oh God Mum's Visiting cleaning/prepping to try and gif Tyler's part in last night's concert (I fucking*screamed* when i heard the intro to his first song and saw him run out, poor Housemate was v chill abt me losing my shit in excitement lol)

-dishes, bc that's just a thing i like doing daily now. put on music, zone out for an hour and half, come back to conscious thought to a bunch of clean dishes. what more could a man ask for (I have ideas but I'll take dishes for now)

I'm writing this out, here, so when my forgetful ass is scrolling thru things tomorrow, I'll see this and won't forget to do anything

hopefully (Tomorrow Me pls don't fuck this up)

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦  ღ  ◦∘  Harrison Osterfield - Quarantine  ∘◦  ღ  ◦∘

A/N - I wrote this during the first lockdown that Britain were in. ow we’re in the third, and almost a year later, I’m uploading this onto my Tumblr from my Wattpad. And yes, before everyone says it, I am fully aware that the Holland’s and Haz were isolating in two different houses and haven’t been living together for months, but this makes it more amusing, and as I say, it was written a while ago. I do not know Harrison, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - cursing, smut, detailed sex, cockwarming, oral, kinky names, mentions of sleeping around... you know the drill by now.

Summary - Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

YOU AREN’T SURE HOW, but in some strange twist of fate, you’ve ended up in self isolation with the Holland’s. But it doesn’t end there, no, not just the Holland’s, but Harrison and Tuwaine too.

You have a bed in the attic, the other side of Harrison’s room, but you’re hardly sleeping in it. Seeing as you’re the only girl among an entire collection of (ahem, horny) and barely adult boys, you were most certainly on their beckon call. You didn’t mind being called to Sam, Harry’s, even Tom’s rooms late at night; you simply wished that you'd be asked to sleep with the one you actually wanted. Harrison.

You and he had been friends as long as you could remember, neighbours from age 4 and friends ever since. Even through uni when you studied a double major and you had zero free time, he was still constant in your life. You’d met Tom and the boys, the twins being closer to your age, and gotten on with them all as well. It just so happened that you ended up on a job with Mr Holland, and that’s what brought all of you closer together with you being in their house often to work on this project it also just so happened that you’d been hanging around with them all when lockdown was announced, leaving you to be in trouble if you drove halfway across London to your own home, so they invited you to stay and had any and all necessary items mailed to you by your roommate. You were only trusted to stay with Harrison after your history together and nothing ever having come of you two, though Mrs Holland did not trust the other boys enough with you and therefore did a bed check every night and every morning to make sure you were alone, though it was always a deceitful check on everyone’s behalf. 

You didn’t thank Tom, Sam or Harry post-sex since you’d always have to return to your own cold bed, next to a sleeping Harrison, a sleeping Harrison who wouldn’t dare use you as a booty call like the other three did. It was safe to say that Harrison also had no idea of your truancies since he slept like a light and no one would discuss your actions at the dinner table to save your dignity, and their own necks.

Tonight though, you have other plans. Harrison has some papers to look through and will therefore be sitting at his desk, procrastinating before his computer for hours, only to be left to flick through the contract at an utterly ungodly hour, and he’d proceed to sleep tomorrow, all throughout the day. You were going to help him relax: maybe a massage, a cuddle, a blunt. Or you’d sit on his lap, watch to see whether he’d tense or relax beneath your bare legs, or whether he’d pick up on whose shirt you were to wear. That was the only tell: you’d steal a shirt from each brother to wear as a mark the next day, but you’d simply claim they were more comfortable than your own tight fitting button downs and crop tops. Harrison hadn’t noticed, not yet though as far as you knew, but each brother wore a slight smirk every day that you wore their shirt.

It hurt that Harrison wouldn’t be able to tell with his usual obliviousness, but you’d shower before seeing to him tonight, and wear one of his shirts so that when he got it back it might smell like you, a scent he claimed to enjoy.

As soon as dinner finishes, you leap away from the three boys all vying for your attention.

“I have work to do, and a shower to have. Plus, I’m tired.” You respond to all three on your journey up the stairs, hearing Harrison groan very loudly from the attic, followed by his head hitting the keyboard of his laptop. You smile sadly to yourself, a mix of nervous anticipation and excitement expelling from your body while the water lashes at your skin, soothing any pain or fear you may be feeling. You increase the heat, allowing the steam to fill your pores as you lean your head forwards to keep your hair dry, held in a messy bun.

You imagine his touch all over your bare body, his finger tracing your jaw, but a knock on the door and a yell to hurry up snaps you from your trance, making you turn off the water and wrap a soft towel (that you know to be Harrison’s) around yourself. You scowl at Harry on your way out, in response to which he sticks his tongue out childishly. 

You end up mostly dry after taking a longer than usual walk up the steps to the attic, lingering on each one until the balls of your feet become sore. You peek your head around the door, only to see Harrison in a hoodie and boxers, a grimace on his lips while attacking his keyboard with a ferocity that you’ve scarcely seen. His anger causes you to furrow your brows, silently wishing that you succeed in calming him instead of making him feel worse. 

You slip into a pair of panties and grab your favourite of his shirts off one of the hangers. You pull out your phone under a guise if he spots you, absentmindedly scrolling through your feed while eyeing Harrison. He slows his typing and begins clicking his mouse at the screen slowly, intently reading the reams of white on his laptop. 

It’s time, you tell yourself, standing up from the bed and walking behind him. You place your hands on his shoulders, splaying your fingers and digging your thumbs in. Harrison’s body goes lax, his hands falling from the laptop to the desk, laying his hands flat on the wood. He lets out a groan and rolls his head back, falling right onto the pillow of your chest. You continue to rub his shoulders, enjoying the way he’s slowly relaxing under your therapeutic touch, that is until he swats you away with a small, sad smile. You sigh, having none of it, and crawl your hands down to the hem of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his tone dripping with boredom. “I have this contract to read, you know I do.”

“Exactly.” You reply after thinking for a moment. You want to say the right thing, you want this to go seamlessly, so every word has to be perfect, not to mention every action.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t battle against your bid to remove his hoodie, and obligingly lifts his arms up over his head so that you can pull his jumper off. You toss it to the side and hear something fall to the floor, but that’s somehow the least of your concerns. You reward Harrison with a kiss to the soft, unblemished skin of his neck - but it won’t stay that way, not for much longer. 

You thread your fingers into his beautiful brown locks and tug a little, just to let him know that you mean business. His lips part as though intending to let out a groan of some kind, but it doesn’t come, so with disappointment you continue to play with his hair the way you love to. He doesn’t stop you, so that’s something, right?

When he hasn’t given you attention for too long, albeit about five minutes, you walk around in front of him. His eyes are forced to retrain from his screen to where your breasts show in his top. Apparently, going braless in one of his tops has its perks, not talking about your nipples.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs. He pushes his chair out and gestures for you to drape yourself over his legs and lap, which you do more than willingly while wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging at the wonderfully soft curls at the nape.

“I know this isn’t ideal, you need to do proper work and be having contact with your girls, but I’ll get you out soon, I know the boys are a lot.”

You simply hum in acknowledgement, adjusting your seat on his bare legs. Skin on skin, electrifying in every sense of the word. 

“That is why you’re doing this, right?” He asks, nervously almost, and you instantly feel as though you’re molesting him, until he wraps his strong arms around your back. You could moan at the contact, his muscles tensing all around you, the feel of Harrison and his smell radiating around you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You move your hands to his shoulders and begin to massage again, just from the front this time, a feeble attempt to procrastinate against your goal. Harrison’s gone back to reading his screen, so while he’s still gathering what he’s reading, it’s your only shot.

You twist on his lap until you’re completely straddling him, your forehead pressed to his. The beautiful blue-green of his eyes sends you into a trance, melting your insides. You can swear that you see him nod a little, so you begin to move your hips. You grind and swirl on his lap, undulating your hips in a perfect figure of eight when you feel him harden beneath you.

With your ministrations paused momentarily, you take a sharp intake of breath and say, “This was never about attention because I’ve been stuck with the boys, this is because I want you.”

Harrison’s face instantly melts into an expression of relief, a goofy smile on his (what you hope to be) soft lips.

“I thought you didn’t want me because you were sleeping with the others,” he says, and you shake your head, tears of relief and happiness almost spilling from your eyes. You feel warm and fuzzy despite the guilt, shame and anger bubbling from your truancies with the Holland boys. 

“You knew then?”

“How couldn’t I?” He remarks, “you’re all they talk about when there’s no adults and no Paddy in the room. What they did to you, how many times they made you cry out their names, the marks they tried to leave on you until your own dominant side came out. Every conversation I had to excuse myself out of mainly respect from you, because what they said upset me but I just couldn’t say so, but then I just came up here and imagined what you’d be doing to me.” Your heart hitches in your throat, butterflies filling your stomach and travelling into your every limb, making your skin tingle. Your stomach rises in goosebumps, as does the skin of your thighs, and you notice that it’s because Harrison has his hands underneath your (his) shirt, and he’s skimming over your waist and legs, holding you and savouring the feel of your skin beneath him. He kisses your neck, once, twice, and it’s gone.

He turns back to his computer and continues his work, looking over your shoulder and letting his eyes train every tiny black line of script on his screen. Your neediness is at an all time high, one hand resting absently on your hip, just above your bum while his other hand clicks at his keyboard and mouse like it’s second nature. The speed of his fingers makes you even needier, craving for him to be inside you already, so you climb onto his bare thigh and trap it between your own. 

You dig your hips down into his leg, grinding and aching for friction, and you already know that you’re dripping onto his skin. The fine hair on his thighs gives a delicious amount of friction - not too much but not too little. As you go further, your mouth parts a little more, allowing you to let out a strangled whimper. Your thigh brushes Harrison’s cock through his boxers, and you feel his hand grip your waist tighter, almost painfully.

Your pussy starts throbbing, aching for more of him, while your hands rake his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Your head falls to the crook of Harrison’s neck as you approach your high, moving your hips more fervently and letting out moans is anticipation. You wonder if Harrison is even able to pay attention to his contract anymore with what you’re doing to him, but that thought is set to rest when you’re right on the edge, but both of his hands grip your hips and move you off his thigh, the skin glistening with your essence. 

For a minute, you think he’ll be angry, make you clean it up, but instead he just kisses you. His lips catch yours more desperately than you could’ve dreamt, immediately biting down on your lower lip, trapped inside his mouth. You let out the loudest moan you could in the moment, but Harrison finds it heavenly, delving his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss while his hands grip your ass. He pulls away, looking at you with those puppy eyes that he knows you can’t resist. 

“Sit on my cock? Just ‘til I finish this section, then I’ll take you as hard as you want.” 

You look sceptical, and Harrison can tell, you know because he kissed you again and moves his hands from your bum to wrap his arms around your whole body and keep you close to him. His lips pressed against your own is enough convincing, so you move your panties aside and accommodate while Harrison takes his boxers off.

When he does, you’re surprised at how big he is, bigger than any of the lads you’ve been with before. Long and substantial, you want to drool just looking at his dick standing proud against his stomach. Nervously, you slide down on him. His girth stretches your every wall and his tip hits new spots until finally you’re balls deep. He groans and exhales, eyes closed while trying to gather his bearings. 

“Fuck.” He says. “Your cunt bottomed out on my cock, keeping me warm and hard, you’re an angel.”

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and involuntarily clench around him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, craving to have as much skin to skin contact as is possible. Your head lays on his chest to stay out of his way, and he seems thankful to be able to see the screen but also feel you. 

You stay seated on Harrison for no more than ten minutes as he taps away at his keyboard and scrolls through the pages. Occasionally he moves, stimulating you enough for you to gasp or tighten around him, and in those instances he kisses behind your ear. 

You listen to his heart, slowing or increasing its speed depending on your movements. The steady heave of his chest moving with his breathing is strangely calming, making you feel closer to him, more stimulated and comforted, something like love.

Suddenly, his laptop slams shut and he thrusts up into you. You yelp a little and snap your head up, nose nudging with his and your lips grazing. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy, and you’ve done it on purpose. Were you sleeping with the others to get my attention? Am I better than them already? Bigger?” You whimper, his words building a fire inside you. “You don’t have to answer, love, I can already tell by your body.”

You cling to him even tighter than before as he clears everything off his desk, breaking a pencil pot while he’s at it, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You choose a desk to fuck me on when we have two beds up here, both of which will make a lot less noise?” 

He looks downcast and releases a giggle. “Yeah, didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, cupping his jaw and caressing his stubbled cheek, “you can fuck me harder on this and let the boys know who I belong to tonight.”

He places you down beneath him on the desk, still hard inside you, but instead of attacking you again in a ferocious kiss, he looks down at you and marvels in your beauty just for a moment, his scrutiny surprisingly doesn’t phase you, it only makes you feel treasured, so as your eyes follow the movements of his rippling muscles, he smiles faintly and kisses you softly. 

“Fuck me Haz,” you whisper, those simple words being all the motivation needed, because he pulls out, leaving you whining at the emptiness of only his twitching tip inside your core, but within seconds he pushes all the way back in. 

He feels heavenly, your eyes rolling back into your head and a surprised moan leaving your lips. He smiles down at you before pulling out and thrusting back inside you, setting a steady pace. Every move feels like paradise, every jolt of his hips swindling shockwaves of pleasure through your craving body, having been desperate for him for a good while.

He feels heavenly inside you, his tip grazing that special spot inside you. “Harrison!” You cry, as quietly as you can. He leans down and pulls the neck of your (his) shirt down so that he can get access to your breast, immediately latching his lips onto your nipple, biting at it viciously while pressing his hands onto your spread thighs. You feel yourself approaching an edge, a timed coil curling inside your stomach as his ministrations continue. 

He’s so much better than the others - not that they weren’t good, they have a basic idea of what to do with you and how to use you, and they’re decently sized, but they can’t make you feel the way Harrison can. 

“I’m close...” you whisper between incoherent murmurs. He’s not too noisy, which may or may not be a blessing paired with the slamming and squeaking of the desk beneath your bodies, it’s mostly just breathy grunts and occasional curses.

“Me too, beautiful.” He dances his forefinger up your thigh and rubs circles around your wetness, allowing you to let go.

The coil within springs open, and you feel your body fall loose, vision blurring with stars in your eyes and core clenching around Harrison - it feels like heaven. Feeling this, he climaxes soon after you and to save from screaming, kisses you in a messy fight of teeth and tongues, half muffling the pornographic moans that would otherwise be bound to spill.

Harrison falls down onto you, chest heaving and breathless, but nonetheless he still places open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“I’ll wait for you to get your breath, shall I?” You tease while running your finger up and down his spine. He chuckles and climbs fully on top of you, cuddling you into his chest. “Well, now I can see why you don’t have a girlfriend yet. Can’t even go for one round without ending up flustered. Lucky that I’ll have you no matter.”

He hums into you, holding you and savouring the silence filled with only your breathing and a few sounds from downstairs, but soon the wood becomes too uncomfortable.

Harrison slips an arm beneath you and carries you across the room to his unmade bed, as opposed to your neatly tucked in one with your entire collection of clothes and makeup on top of the sheets, but his bed is probably comfier since he’s always in it. 

“Round two?”

Your heart rate increases, a burning blush rising to the tips of your ears as well as a shy smile snaking its way across your lips, still swollen from Harrison’s attack, not to mention the swollen parts of your skin where he paid a little more attention, leaving marks and memories for days to come.

“I’d like to see you try.” You tease, keeping your cool resolve despite feeling anxious straddling him, his eyes flitting between your chest, eyes and lips, unsure of what to do or how to use his mouth, a definite rarity for someone like him.

He seems desperate, putting his hands on your hips and thirstily jolting his hips upwards - if you’d been a few inches further down, he would’ve been straight back inside you, and maybe that’s what he was hoping for.

“Any hole’s a goal, isn’t that what Tom says?” 

He loves it when you tease him, that much you’re learnt over the years. Every girl he’s been with you’ve found a way to tease him about it, anything he says, anything he does, and he loves it since it usually ends in a play fight and him surrendering control of the tv remote to you. This time however, it ends in something far different.

He tugs the shirt up further and pulls you roughly so that your calves are either side of his neck, your once again dripping core hovering above his face and awaiting tongue. 

“Only if it’s yours.” He says, his breath sending shockwaves through your body straight from your core.

His tongue deftly finds its way through your folds and inside your tensing cavern, and it feels heavenly. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue laps up all around you, his lips working in tandem while his tongue dances inside you. The moans leaving your mouth are otherworldly noises that you’ve never quite made before, maybe because you’ve never sat on anyone’s face, never mind someone as experienced as Harrison, something that you’re now learning is far from a bad thing. 

“Harrison!” You cry when he delves a little deeper. His eyes remain between your own and the way your boobs bounce inside his shirt while you squirm on top of him. Every noise the pair of you make masks the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the attic, and muffle the sound of knocking on the door.

Harrison’s mouth continues its assault on your needy heat, your one hand weaving into his hair while the other massages your breast through your shirt, bringing stimulation to your nipple and bringing your climax closer and closer...

“Haz, we get that you hate work but you really don’t have to make so much noise- OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

You freeze, your recently shut eyes shooting open and darting over to the door, ajar with Tom standing just over the threshold, staring right at the two of you with a face of horror and disgust. Harrison however, bites down on your sensitive nub in his state of shock, and your second orgasm washes over you in such a state of unexpected euphoria that you lose all your bearings. 

You cry out Harrison’s name like a prayer, chanting it while he cleans you up, and it’s not for a solid minute after your climax ends that you realise Tom is still in the room with you, rendered speechless, mouth agape and dumbfounded. 

When you clock what’s happening, you grasp Harrison’s duvet and yank it up to cover you both while you climb off Harrison’s face, his lips still glistening with your cum. He seems lost for words, too, blanching more and more with every passing second. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. No one moves, except for Harrison’s cock twitching under the duvet.

“It’s not what it looks like...” you say, your words getting lost in the thick tension of the room, like a rubber band pulled so tightly that it could snap at any given moment.

“Really? Because it looks like Harrison was just eating you out!”

You can’t fault Tom's logic, it is exactly what it looks like, so you just blush and pull the duvet up to your chin while wishing for a black hole to swallow you up. 

You can’t help but notice how beautiful Harrison looks though, plump lips and that wonderful glint in his eyes, messy hair and no top. 

“Ok, so it’s exactly what it looks like, surprise?” You can’t figure out what to say to him in the current situation, but instantly feel relaxed when Harrison begins to rub his palm up and down your thigh beneath the duvet .

“What- oh, this is why you called?” Sam now makes an appearance, folding his arms and standing next to a resolute Tom. You can’t decipher if he’s angry, amused or something else. “Our plan worked!” He suddenly shouts, and within seconds, Harry arrives beside the pair, a smirk on his lips.

“Really? So shagging Y/N and talking about it in front of me was all a ploy to get us together? And if so, why does Mr Fancy Pants here look so angry?” Harrison asks, and you can feel him willing his boner to wilt while in the presence of the brothers.

“Yes!” Comes paddy’s voice from the doorway, swiftly standing in front of Tom. 

You smirk, but Harrison scowls, unable to accommodate this situation within his mind.

“He’s probably shocked because he walked in on you two... you know. But yeah, it was all a plan, sorry by the way.” Harry says, you just wave it off but Harrison’s grip on your leg tightens.

“Don’t be angry, it worked didn’t it?” Sam chimes in, patting Paddy on the back before making his way out.

Tom has to have the last word, you can see it on the settling lines on his forehead, so you brace yourself closer to Haz. “And don’t I bloody know that it worked!”

Maybe the drama was worth it for the laugh out of Tom’s reaction, though Harrison would argue with you there.

[ubernoxa]

The Sip: A GNR Modern Day AU

Chapter 6: Just Friends

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Chapter Summary: Alanah gets a call from her manager and Duff surprises her with some help.

Warning: Fluff

I sat on the couch in Sandy’s and my apartment wishing I was anywhere else.

Declan had surprised Sandy for dinner and they were currently out eating at some fancy restaurant.

A couple hours earlier, Declan showed up at our door with a dozen roses dresses in a full suit. Apparently it was their six month anniversary, but you wouldn’t know that if you saw Sandy at the party last night. There are times I wonder if she knows what the definition of committed relationship is. I can’t judge though, my last relationships was borderline fake.

Originally we were supposed to record, but they both looked so excited to go. Before Sandy could break the news to him on how she couldn’t go, I told her we could reschedule. We had some prerecorded stuff, so we could just post that instead. She was still hesitant, so I added on that I could livestream cooking. Eventually she caved and left for her dinner with Declan. I hope she didn’t cheat on him, but the way that stranger’s arm was wrapped around her led me to believe the worst. She was supposed to be the smart one out of the two of us. She didn’t leave without making a comment on how I should invite Duff over for the stream. I swear she just wanted me to get in a relationship again, so we could go on double dates and couples vacations.

I continued to stare in the mirror as I finished applying my foundation. My heart skipped a beat as the sound of my phone ringing echoed through my apartment. Duff?

To my disappointment, it was only my media manager..well both Sandy’s and my media manager. We hired her a while back to help us with the legal side of YouTube and to help with our social presence.

“Hey Alanah, hows it going?”

“Good, Good...preparing to do the livestream I just texted you about,” I began to begin working on my eyes as I spoke.

“Okay well...you know how I hate getting into your personal life Alanah, but...” God I wish she would just spit it out. I knew she was going to ask about if I was dating Duff or not. I know we’re not, but I....I don’t know. After this morning’s bathroom event, I needed to know what that meant to him. No way that was just two friends hanging out, or maybe that’s how a rockstar hangs out with girls? Fuck.

“Are you dating Duff,” I let a fake laugh escape me once she finally got around to asking the question.

“No, just friends.” Yup, just friends would had sex multiple times in the past 24 hours and then relaxed in a jacuzzi together. Just casual friend things.

My manager went silent for a couple seconds. Was she expecting me to say yes?

“Things just ended with Mark, and I just want to enjoy being single. I won’t lie, I shed a couple tears when I heard he said Alanah who....but I’ve heard worst things. Why are you asking?” I stopped applying my makeup and focused on my manager. She went silent again, and that wasn’t ever a good sign.

“Well, you were tagged in some social media posts.....” she once again paused causing my patience to go extinct. SPIT IT OUT.

“There was a video from the paparazzi, Ill send it your way. I know Mark is a celebrity, but he wasn’t a household name like Duff. If you two do start dating you are aware that you are going to lose your sense of privacy right? You’ll be added to his list of ex’s. That’s what you will be known for,” I let out a sigh as she finished talking. Jesus Christ, we aren’t even dating and I was already getting this talk.

“Just friends,” I faked the confidence in my voice before I heard her mumble something.

“Well I’m glad you’re doing well, I’ll send you a link to the video I was referencing. If you and Duff are JUST FRIENDS you should ask him to help cook for your stream tonight,”

“Really?” I sounded like a nervous middle schooler as I spoke. Why was I nervous?

“Yeah, could be fun. Have a good one Alanah,” she hung up before I could even say goodbye...typical.

I opened up Instagram and was immediately met with a bunch of notifications. Whoever ran the Gun’s Instagram page had tagged me in a couple of photos. Most of them consisted of photos from earlier in the night of us around the BBQ. I was surprised to see that I looked decent in most of them, and in a couple...only a couple of the photos...Duff and I did look like we were dating. He had is arm wrapped around my waist or I was sitting on his lap. We aren’t dating though just friends.

I went over to his page to message him, and that’s when I froze. I immediately clicked on the most recent post and scrolled through the photos. There was one photo that caught my attention. It was from when we were eating dinner last night. It must have been cropped because it was just the two of us, but I remembered this moment. He had just made a joke that was so stupid I couldn’t help, but laugh. Yesterday I didn’t notice it, but he was smiling down at me as I giggled in the photo and he had his hand wrapped around my waist. I couldn’t read into that much more. We are just friends. We are nothing more than friends. FRIENDS.

I logged into the Instagram account specifically for Sandy’s and my YouTube channel and began to record a video.

“Hey guy! Hope you’re haveing a great Tuesday. Sandy is out celebrating an anniversary so you’re stuck with me tonight!”

“Tonight I will be live-streaming me attempting to cook something you guys comment below! So comment your ideas and hopefully I won’t burn them!”

I then when to share the video on twitter and Tumblr to try to gain traction.

I put some music on and began to scroll through the comments trying to find an idea of what to cook. The comments started out as helpful but after some scrolling a lot of the comment were about Duff....I placed my phone out and let out a sigh.

“Are you and Duff dating?”

“Wow, talk about a rebound”

“Duff + Alanah... #upgrade”

Why did I have to deal with this bull shit? Not that I wouldn’t mind being his girlfriend....but he was a rockstar and we were JUST FRIENDS.

I was pulled from my thoughts as my phone began to ring. Speaking of the devil, it was Duff.

“Hey, what’s up?” I smiled as I looked at my screen. His hair was all over the place and he looked exhausted. It must had been a long practice.

“I’m about 30 seconds away from killing my bandmates, you?”

“Well I’m currently trying to chose what to cook for my livestream,” I quickly checked what I looked like on the screen. I was thankful that I put makeup on and did my hair, I looked pretty good..not to toot my own horn or anything.

“How about Thai Salmon?” I was caught off guard by his recommendation.

“Ohhh uhhh I don’t know how to bake that.....and umm...I don’t want to look like a fool on livestream,” I was tripping over my words, unable to cease talking.

“Well if you need help, I’m actually a decent cook. I could even show you some stuff if you want,” he wanted to help me cook?

“Yeah sure!” I could feel a smile growing on my cheek from ear to ear as I spoke. I watched a smile flash on his face as I answered.

“Great! So I’ll bring the ingredients we need and we also have to soak the salmon for two hours before it’s cooked!”

My stomach was performing backflips as Duff talked. He was excited. He was excited to hang out with me. Holy shit.

Time flew by as I began to setup the two cameras. The first was on a rather large tripod allowing you to see the entire kitchen, which wasn’t much, and the second was a small camera that would be used for more close up shots.

***Buzz***

I practically jumped out of my skin when I heard my apartment’s doorbell ring. I bolted towards my intercom to the lobby, “Hello?”

“Hey Alanah, it’s Duff I got the stuff, wanna let me in or we can try to cook in the lobby?” I chuckled as I hit a button on my intercom and buzzed in. What if he thinks less of me because of my small apartment? What if he thinks I’m below him? Is my apartment too dirty? Is it too clean?

A knock at the door pulled me out of my chaotic merry-go-round of thoughts.

I took a deep breath and opened my door.

“So this is what your apartment looks like,” he had a small smile on his face as he walked around looking at the photos that hung on the wall.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” I shrugged leaning against the table for support.

“Its cozy! I got the food, shall we begin?”

“Umm...yeah..uhhh..yeah..so since the salmon needs to marinate I’m doing a little prerecording for the video to post later in the week if that’s fine,” I wanted to kick myself repeatedly for stumbling over my words. God! I felt like such a baffoon.

“How can I help?” I watched as he looked at my camera positioned to look at the entire room.

“You can do whatever you want! If you wanna help with the cameras it’s up to you. If you want to sit on the couch and be on your phone that’s fine too,” I shrugged watching his body language as I spoke. He actually wanted to help....the rockstar was looking to help..weird okay.

“So that camera there is for overall shots while this one is for like close up,” I held up the second camera showing him how to properly hold it.

“So this first part isn’t live?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to make everyone wait two hours. I usually take live-streams and create highlight videos,” I began to pull the items out of Duff’s cloth bag.

I looked over to see Duff fiddling with the second camera and eventually turning it on. Out of the corner of my eye I then watched as he turned on the second one. Maybe he wasn’t as unfamiliar with cameras as I expected him to be.

I then felt him wrap his arms around my waist.

“Hey...Duff,” I could feel my heart rate about to explode through my chest. I’ve had sex with him before, why was I nervous around him? Why the hell was him being so close to me making my stomach become an Olympic gymnast?

“Don’t mind me, I’m just turning on your mic,” and with that I hear a faint click from a small switch that turned my mic on. He then clapped once and went to pick up the second camera.

“I’m ready when you are,” I could feel my cheeks turning red as he spoke. His damn smirk never leaving his stupid face. He knew what he was doing.

“Alright, welcome to another cooking with Alanah and Sandy, but this time there is no Sandy so we will see what happens! My current goal is to not burn the food,” before I could continue Duff’s laughter echoed through my apartment.

“What? Also cameramen should be quiet!” I teased back pointing at the camera, only making his laugh harder.

“Alanah, babe, I’ve seen your previous cooking videos and I think your goal should be to not burn down your apartment,” I froze as I tried to make out what he said between laughing.

Babe?

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t get rid of the smile that had grown on my face.

“Alright so tonight we are making teriyaki salmon! The first step is to create the marinate!” I pulled out the cooking instructions I had made Duff write before he came over.

“Alright so for the sweet chili sauce we will combine water, white vinegar, cornstach, garlic clove, and.......maple syrup,” I looked over at Duff as I read the last ingredient.

“Are you messing with me Duff?” His laughter filled the room once again and I couldn’t help but join him. His laugh was contagious.

“If I was messing with you I would have either been more subtle or more outlandish,” I watched as he placed the camera on my mini tripod infornt of the bowls I had setup for mixing.

We spent the next thirty minutes preparing the sauce together, and I loved every second of it.

“And now we wait for two hours while the salmon soaks,” Duff said into the camera before smirking at me. He was good in front of a camera and he knew it.

“So now we have two hours,” I finished turning off the cameras and my mic as he spoke.

“Do you have anything in mind in how to spend the time?” This time I couldn’t help but let a smirk wander into my face.

Without hesitation, Duff pulled me in and we began to kiss as he dragged me to my bedroom.

[littlemisslovelovelove3]

If this comes across your dashboard, just ignore it. I’m stressing out but it’s 4am and everyone I could normally talk to is sleeping, so I’m basically using this as a digital venting session/journal entry because it’s easier than digging out all my actual journaling stuff.

I don’t know what’s going on with me tonight but I’m feeling very off. I’m feeling an intense urge to cry like I haven’t felt in years despite nothing of importance happening. And not like “aww I’m a little sad” but like “I want to sob like the love of my life just died” cry. The ugly, splotchy face, runny nose, can’t catch your breath kind of crying session that dominated my childhood. (I had a very good childhood- I was just hella dramatic and still am. I was never a weeper, I was an all out crier)

My sleep schedule has been fucked up for like the 300th time this year where I am wide awake all night and sleeping all day, or at least some variation of that. I’m so tired all the time but there have been more nights this year than any other year in recent memory that I’ve struggled this much with sleep. I used to be out almost as soon as my head hit the pillow and now it’s not uncommon for me to be wide awake at 8am having not gone to sleep at all. And I’m sure not seeing a decent amount of sunshine isn’t helping, but once I finally manage to pass out, I’m out. It’s not always restful, but it’s better than no sleep at all.

I’m struggling to focus on anything for a decent length of time- I’ve bought an ~obscene~ number of books, started half a dozen of them and none of them are holding my interest. I used to be able to fly through 800 page books in under 2 days and now I can’t even read a 472 page book in 3 weeks. I’ve read some fan fiction to see if that will help my reading slump but it’s been touch and go on those too.

I’ve tried watching tv and with the exception of the few shows I watch at night with my mother, I’ve been unable to get through any new or currently started shows. I restarted Rizzoli & Isles and haven’t been able to make it through the first season of a whopping 10 episodes. I’m beyond behind on Doctor Who, I lost interest in my favorite show of all time Buffy the Vampire Slayer, stopped Angel and haven’t been able to get through episode 2 of The Queen’s Gambit. Even picking a tv show has been hard. I was never good at making simple decisions before but now I’m hopeless.

The only movies I’ve watched lately are with my mom or the kids movies I watch with my friend’s son that I nanny for part time. He’s a great kid and I live him like he was my own, but I can’t watch The Addams Family one more time. It’s great but damn kid pick one of the other 50,000 available options.

I scroll through social media a lot but even that bores me. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, tumblr, tiktok, Snapchat- none hold my attention for very long. Except maybe tiktok because I’m pretty sure it’s digital crack but sometimes even it bores me.

I’ve been awful about going to the gym. I used to go 4-6 times a week and lately it’s been once a week and only because I pay for a group session with a trainer. It’s literally me and 1-3 other women depending on the day. And I can feel myself losing endurance, muscle and strength.

We aren’t going home for Christmas and while I absolutely understand why, I’m incredibly devastated that I won’t see my sisters, their families and my extended family this year. Sure I saw my one sister and her family in June but there’s something about going home for Christmas that is always extra special to me. We’re (my parents, brother and I) are going to miss out on my nephew’s second Christmas and the first one he’ll be able to really enjoy. He was 4 weeks at his first Christmas so he basically slept the whole time. We already missed his first birthday and while we’ve FaceTimed a bunch, it’s not the same.

And I was really hoping to see my grandpa, but he’s 91 and I could never forgive myself if I exposed him to covid. But I’m also scared about the very real possibility of never getting to see him again. His wife, my grandmother died 2 years ago and if I had known that the last time I saw her was the last time, I would’ve hugged her a little tighter and told her how much I love her. I miss her every day. I catch myself still calling the house “their home” or “grandma and grandpa’s”. Calling it “grandpa’s” still feels foreign to me. The idea that I’ll be missing Christmas with my dad’s family for the first time in my life is not sitting well with me.

My head gets it- there’s a fucking pandemic raging and traveling is ill advised but my heart doesn’t care, as melodramatic as it sounds. It’s like my body wants to go home to my hometown and back to where I grew up like it’s somehow going to be a source of comfort. Even though it’s not the same as it was when I lived there. I moved away 5 years ago and it kept on growing and changing despite my naïve belief it would stay the same.

So basically I’m feeling incredibly nostalgic and stressed. My anxiety is raging and I’m pretty sure the antidepressant my psychiatrist prescribed me isn’t doing much. I’m not having dark thoughts like I was in the spring when I first started seeing him, but I still don’t feel like myself. I’m also unemployed which is definitely not helping matters. I have savings and live with family but that’s not a long term solution. But my family is all high risk for covid and there aren’t many jobs around me right now that a) pay enough and b) can limit exposure.

If it weren’t wildly inappropriate I’d drive myself to my friend’s house right now and go snuggle his dog and/or cat right now, because honestly I feel like that would help. But I’ll wait until the morning when he’s at work so I don’t scare the shit out of him. Full disclosure if you’ve actually been reading this and made it this far- I’ve been given a key and explicit permission to go to his house and squeeze his pets. Tomorrow I might actually take him up on the offer. I may even bring the dog back to my place, which again, I’ve been given permission to do.

Adult friendships are weird y’all. My friends and I all have keys or security codes to each other’s homes and using them happens on a more frequent basis than I would’ve anticipated. My house has become the Friday night landing zone for after work (for them) drinks, relaxation and occasionally dinner. Which is so foreign to me because for the last couple years all my friends lived in other cities and/or states, so actually being even somewhat social again has been jarring. Between not having friends nearby and the damn pandemic it’s been really really fucking weird.

I’m sure the pandemic is a major reason I’m feeling so out of sorts, but it’s not going away any time soon and I feel like I need to figure out some of my shit or at least find some healthy ways of coping to survive. Not anything crazy- I’m not suicidal- I’m just super dramatic and also realize that I don’t want my anxiety and depression to keep controlling me like it feels like it has been. I’m big on needing to feel like I’m in control even the littlest bit, so this whole situation is making me feel very unbalanced and I’m not a fan.

And now that I’ve at least written this out I’m actually feeling somewhat better. The stress is still here but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming as it did earlier. It helped I cried while writing about my grandmother. One day I hope I won’t get overly emotional when thinking about or talking about her, but I’m ok with that being not today.

It’s kinda cliché but the whole “it’s ok to not be ok” mantra is really accurate for me right now. I’m sure I’m not the only person in the world feeling overwhelmed right now with everything going on and I certainly won’t be the last.

[whydoesfireburn]

The first chapter of Why Does Fire Burn? now on Tumblr

There are spelling and grammar mistakes but enjoy anyway.

 “Shoto wake your ass up,” Dabi yelled at his little brother, banging on the door.

    “Screw off,” Shoto muttered back, hiding his face in his pillow. The morning was too evil to wake for. Then there was a quieter, much more gentle knock.

    “Come on, Shoto,” Fuyumi said, opening the door and walking in, “You have the entrance exam today. You don’t want to be late.”

    He groaned but got up when Fuyumi ran a hand through his hair. Shoto got dressed in his school uniform after his sister left and then came out for breakfast.

    Fuyumi was making eggs, bacon, and rice, and Dabi was scrolling through his phone at the table. Shouto sat down next to him, and without looking, his older brother messed up his hair in a playful manner.

    “Stop it,” he says, hitting at his hand. Dabi smirks and puts his phone down. Fuyumi, bless her soul, placed our plates in front of them, and they began eating.

    “Natsu’s coming home tonight for dinner,” their sister said halfway through.

    “Cool,” the youngest said with his mouth full of food.

    “What do you guys want for dinner?” she asked.

    “Soba,” Shoto said.

    “Was that even a question?” Dabi asked. 

    Soon it’s time for Shoto to go. Dabi and Fuyumi were watching as Shoto put his shoes and jacket on.

    “You’re going to do great,” Fuyumi reassured, straightening her brother's jacket, “And if not, it’s okay. We’ll find something else. Don’t worry.”

    “I’m not worried,” he said.

    “She was talking to herself,” Dabi said. Fuyumi then smacked his shoulder.

    “Come to the shop after the exam,” Dabi said.

    “Got it,” Shoto said before opening the door, “Bye,” he said, stepping out of our apartment. Shoto sucked in a breath and said, “Let's do this.”

    XXX

Shoto Yukitomo was 15 years old when he went to take the UA entrance exam. He had almost blinding snow-white hair that was long but didn’t go past his neck. He had mismatched heterochromia eyes. One stark gray, and other burning turquoise. Over his left eye was a large burn scar. His papers said that his Quirk was named Cryokinesis. It allowed him to control the ice he made.

    Yukitomo did well in the exam. Using his ice to freeze robots before they could strike him. In the end, he had close to 78 points. But then the ground began to shake and rumble. And then there was the faux villain worth 0 points. He made a massive ice wall. Stopping the thing in its path.

    XXX

After the exam was over, Shoto headed to Dabi’s shop. Dabi ran a tattoo parlor called Cremation Ink. It was a pretty good size and had a nice setup. Music was always playing, and the place was warm and bright. It smelled like ink, burnt wood, and coffee. Dabi seemed to really love running the place, but the business could be slow sometimes. Dabi had to work a part-time job at the record store down the street just to make sure that he could run this place and keep the apartment the siblings lived in. Sure Fuyumi worked too, but, a preschool teacher doesn’t make all that much.

    Shoto walked in and heard the sound so the old American bands Dabi liked to play. Along with that was a buzzing noise that came from a tattoo gun. Shoto walked in further and saw that my brother was in the middle of work.

    Knowing it to be a while before they’d go, Shoto moved over to the large leather couch back at the front of the shop and pulled out his book and read. An hour and a half later, the two come in the front of the store. The customer was a guy with a bright blue mohawk with the sides of his head shaved. The tattoo he had gotten was of a blue dragon running down his arm.

    “You sure you like it?” Dabi asked as they reached the door.

    “Man, I freaking love it,” the guys said, “It’s sick as fuck.”

    “I’m glad,” Dabi said, “So, you’re good with me putting it on my site, social media pages, right?”

    “Yeah, man, go nuts.”

    “Alright, come back soon,” Dabi said, holding the door open for the other guy.

    “Will do Dabi,” the guy said before leaving.

    “How was your day?” Shoto asked, not looking up.

    “Fine, yours?”

    “Fine,” he said, “You talking to that guy you met last month?”

    “Don’t,” his brother warned, walking towards the back.

    “What?”

    “Shoto, I am serious.”

    “Is that hard for you?”

    “Do you want to die brat?” he asked, “Because I can make that happen.”

    “You wouldn’t hurt me. Fuyumi won’t let you,” Shoto said, eyes still glued to the pages.

    It’s another half an hour before the brothers lock up and head home. On their way back to the small apartment, Dabi asked,” So how was it?”

    “Fine, I guess,” the white-haired boy said. 

The two brothers couldn’t look more different as they walked down the street. Dabi was a good couple inches taller even though he has been on the short side most of the time. Shoto was tall, too, but not his brother’s height. Shoto had snow-white hair, and Dabi had jet black. Both of them had pale skin, but Dabi’s arms and torso were covered in ink. Images of flames, snowflakes and monsters, flowers, and other symbols. His ears and nose were pierced in several places.

When they got home, they found that their other two siblings were back. Fuyumi was working on dinner, and Natsuo was in the living room, TV blaring. Shoto plopped down next to his older brother, and Natsuo ruffled his hair.

“Hey, Sho, how the exam?” he asked.

“Good, I think.”

“I’m going to go look over some calls,” Dabi said, shrugging his jacket off. 

“Then you go and shower,” Fuyumi said, “You too, Shoto.”

Shouto just sat, leaning against his other brother as they watched the news. For a split second, the was flash of the number two hero on the screen, but before anything on the TV could be said, the channel was changed to a volleyball game that was on.

“Who the hell used all my shampoo?” Shoto asked, coming out of the bathroom, shaking the empty bottle.

“Shouto,” Fuyumi said, “You use too much of it.”

“No, I don’t,” he said.

“Yes, you do. And so does Natsu.”

“Leave me out of this,” the older boy said.

“Did you use it?” Shoto asked.

“ I will not confirm or deny anything.”

Shoto threw the empty bottle at his brother, but Natsuo caught it. Shoto growled.

Later Dabi came out of the shower, and they ate dinner. The four siblings talked about their day. Dabi spoke about people who went into the shop. Fuyumi shared stories about her class. Natsuo talked about his professors and classes. And Shoto talked about his entrance exam.

“They made you fight robots?” Natsu asked.

“Yep.”

“Huh, well that something.”

“Speaking of school,” Dabi said, “Have you picked a major?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe physical therapy,” Natsuo said, “You know so I can help people.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Fuyumi said, smiling.

As they got more into the meal, Shoto’s brows knitted together for a moment. “What am I going to do if I don’t get into UA?” his tone wasn’t one of despair or dread. It was one born out of pure curiosity.

All three of his siblings looked at him for a moment and thought. What would Shoto do?

“You become a hoodlum like your brother,” Natsu tested. Dabi hit him up the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“Don’t worry, Shoto,” Fuyumi said, resting her hand on top of her brothers, “If UA doesn’t work, we could find another hero school. Or we can find something else for you to do if you want. We just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” Shoto said.

         If you were to look at Yukitomo siblings, you would see that they were closer than anything. That they were loyal and relied on each other. The neighbors thought they were all delightful children. They truly didn’t deserve what happened to them. It was horrible luck for such sweet children. To have their father horribly, painfully killed in a home invasion, which left poor Shoto scared, and their mother insane. Poor Dabi had been tasked with keeping all of his siblings safe at such a young age. All four of them worked so hard to stay together. Truly lovely children, with terrible luck.

After dinner, the four cleaned up dinner and sat in the living room and watched action movies.

XXX 

Later that night, while the younger two of the siblings were asleep, Fuyumi and Dabi stayed up talking.

“I’m get worried,” Fuyumi said, pacing the kitchen floor, “We’re running out of money. I’ve been looking over the bills and checks, and we only have enough for maybe the first third of the year. And we can’t just have Shoto and Natsuo go out and get jobs with them both going to school,” she ran a hand threw her long white hair.

Dabi didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was getting worried too. She was right. Money was growing thin, and their brothers couldn’t get jobs like they did. Natsuo would be in college, and Shoto was going to going to a hero school of all things. He wasn’t going to put the stress of getting a job on them.

“Yumi,” he said after a minute, his voice sounding more confident than he felt, “Don’t worry. I have a bunch of appointments scheduled over these next few months. It will be more than enough.”

“But will it?” She asked, worried, “Dabi, you know how hard it is to support all of us. You know sometimes, a fully booked month is hardly enough.”

“Relax,” he told her, “I have a plan if things start getting bumpy.”

“What?!” she cried a little too loud. She had stopped pacing, “Join a gang and sell drugs? Rob a bank? Sell off all of our things?”

“No,” he said, trying not to get upset with her worry. She was much more open with emotion in times of stress when it was just them.

“Then what?” she asked, “And if you say Taijo, I swear to the gods-”

“I promise it’s not Taijo,” he whispered, “And keep your voice down, you’ll wake Natsu and Sho.”

“What is it then?” she asked, more softly, her hands shaking.

“We draw some cash from our funds,” Dabi said plainly.

“Touya!” Fuyumi cried before she was hushed. Dabi cringed at the sound of the name. It was strange and bitter after so long. Even though it was the dead of night there was no one else, but them were up, Dabi looked around. Checking to make sure no one heard. After a minute, he let out a sigh, and his shoulders dropped.

Dabi looked at his sister, and placed his hands on her shoulders carefully, “Yumi, listen to me. I know it’s risky, but we’ve gotten away with it before. No one knows they’re there, and no one will know that the money’s gone. And it is just a little bit. Just a little bit of cash, that’s ours anyway. We’ll wait for a few more months. And if the business at the shop keeps doing well, then we won’t. Please, Yumi, trust me on this.”

Fuyumi looked down at the ground. She was shaking a little bit, and tears were welling up in her eyes. She didn’t want to look at her brother. Her older brother, who always made sure she was safe and okay. Who would hold her when she cried. Who took on all the problems Fuyumi couldn't figure out on her own. She felt weak next to him. Dabi pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded.

“Okay,” she sobbed, “but only in a few months. Promise me.”

“Okay,” he said, rocking her, “I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, “I’m sorry I’m not stronger-”

“Fuyumi, you’re stronger than any of us,” Dabi said, in a gentle voice, “You do things that I never could. You handle all our finances, you cook and take care of us when we’re sick, you help Shoto and Natsuo with homework when the world knows I couldn’t have. You are so strong, Fuyumi. I never want you to think otherwise.”

She nodded. For the longest time, Dabi just stood there holding his little sister. It was moments like this; they both remembered how much they need each other to get through things. How they had to work together to make sure their little brothers could have it better than they did.

 “It’s okay,” Dabi promised, “It’ll be okay, Yumi. Only five more years of the hard stuff. Five more years,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Five more years. Then they could finally make a move and not worry about as much about losing each other.

XXX

(Two Weeks Later)

Two weeks later, the four Yukitomo siblings were in the kitchen. Fuyumi was grading some papers, and Dabi and Natsuo were talking about work and school. Shoto was looking through the mail. There were six pieces of it. Three of them were bills. One was a postcard from one of Fuyumi’s friends. The other was a magazine. Finally, there was a letter to Shoto. From UA.

Shoto slowly opened it without saying anything. Then a small dice dropped out. Then a holographic image popped out of All Might. The other siblings turn their heads, and their jaws dropped.

They all sat and listen to the results. In the end, tears ran down the siblings' faces, and there was the tightest group hug of their lives. They all smiled and laughed for a good long while. Once all the crying and laughing stopped, and they all let go of each other, Shoto said, “I’m going to UA.”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Dabi said, hugging him, “You are.”

Shoto was going to UA, and he was going to be a hero. A hero who helps people, like his siblings, helped him, and he was going to a better hero than he ever was.

[orkestrations]

Pronouns

Warnings: None

Pairings: Platonic LAMP/CALM

Summary:  Logan decides to switch things up, pronouns-wise.

Gender is Hard ‘verse 6

Word Count: 1,345

Brave || Influenza

Fic Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

Read under the cut, or, read on AO3

The only light in the room came from a string of soft white fairy lights and the yellow-tinted laptop screen. They illuminated Logan, who was curled up on his bed, his back in a corner and laptop open as he scrolled through tumblr. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, and he held it together over his chest, fabric bunching in his fist. His knuckles were white and he was curled in on himself in a position that was uncharacteristic for the straight-backed (if not actually straight) teen.

If Logan wasn’t wearing headphones and listening to math rock, he’d be able to hear the sounds of his parents working together in the kitchen to cook dinner. It looked like any other night in the Lehrer household, even if it didn’t feel like any other night.

“I can just tell them,” Logan muttered to himself. “This is irrational. They’ve been accepting so far, they’ve been accepting of Roman, I can tell them this and they will accept me.” The statements were a small balm on the knot of anxious energy in his chest. Normally, whispering his mantras to himself removed those emotions, however, that night it didn’t seem to be working.

There was something else he could try… He wasn’t short on friends, anymore.

Glasses Gay Young: I am feeling irrationally anxious

The Themeless: mood.

any idea why?

Glasses Gay Young: ….yes

The Discord was quiet for a few moments before Roman chimed in.

Extra Prince Enby: Well, are you going to tell us or do we have to guess?

Glasses Gay Young: I am getting there.

Weirdly enough, or maybe not-so-weirdly, Logan was already feeling calmer just messaging his friends. And the fact that he could call them his friends was, well, simply astounding. The nerd, the teacher’s pet, the weirdo, had friends?

Extra Prince Enby: Well get there faster!

Glasses Gay Old: Now, Roman, Logan can take as much time as he needs

The Themeless: yeah prince cat, chill

Extra Prince Enby: You chill

The Themeless: i’m physically incapable of chilling but okay

Logan stifled a snicker at their antics. At least his friends- no matter how novel a concept that still felt, months later- could make him laugh, even if that wasn’t their intention.

Glasses Gay Young: I’ve been thinking

The Themeless: like that’s new? you think a lot

Glasses Gay Old: Let him talk

The Themeless: we’re typing, we can’t actually talk over each other but i’ll shut up

Glasses Gay Young: ANYWAYS I have been thinking about pronouns

Extra Prince Enby: Oh worm? Me too!

The Themeless: you can think?

Extra Prince Enby: asdkgjhkjhsdkvjn

YES

Glasses Gay Old: Logan is trying to tell us something, please get along

The Themeless: this is??? how?? we get along???

Glasses Gay Young: I hate the both of you.

The Themeless: anyways sorry please continue

Glasses Gay Young: I don’t think I want to keep using he/him

Glasses Gay Old: Okay! What would you prefer?

Glasses Gay Young: I was thinking… I might try xe/xir?

The Themeless: ooooh neopronouns, look how edgy logan’s being, xe’s the edgiest

Extra Prince Enby: That’s how easy it is to make you give up being The Edgiest?!!!??

Glasses Gay Old: Whatever you want, Logan! Look at xir new pronouns!

Extra Prince Enby: How is Logan even edgy?!!!?! Answer me, Emo Nightmare! How is xe edgy?

The Themeless: xe’s the only one with neopronouns

Glasses Gay Young: Thank you for the validation. Both of you are absolutely awful.

The anxiety that had been in Logan’s chest had faded. Instead, xe was… warm. The blanket was still wrapped around xir shoulders, but instead being clutched tight, xe had let it just rest there. It was like, with xir friends helping, xe didn’t have to hold on for dear life anymore. Xe was relaxing.

Of course, that was the moment xir parents announced that it was dinner time.

Glasses Gay Young: Okay it’s dinner time and I’m going to tell my parents

The Themeless: oh shit good luck

Glasses Gay Old: Virgil!

Extra Prince Enby: No cursing in my Good Christian Minecraft Server, you jackass!

Logan set xir laptop down and, saddeningly, left xir blanket. Maybe xe could get a hoodie for when xe couldn’t hide in the blanket…

Xir parents had made broccoli-cheddar soup that night which was, to be honest, a family favorite. Maybe one of xir parents had a bad day with the students, or administration, or whatever. Or maybe xir dad had picked up on xir stress. It could be either one.

“So how’s the online world faring these days?” xir mom asked, ladling soup into bowls for the three members of the family. Her hair, released from its normal braid, was instead pulled back by a headband.

“It’s doing fine,” Logan replied, accepting xir bowl when xir mom handed over. Xir dad was blowing on his soup, attempting to cool it down. “Well, as fine as the internet can do.”

“Well, I suppose that’s all we can ask for,” xir dad said, seemingly giving up on his hot soup for the moment.

“How were your classes today?” Logan asked. Xe stirred xir soup and took a drink of xir milk.

“Oh, well, there was only a grand total of two breakdowns in my office today, which is a surprisingly low number considering how close we are to finals,” xir mom replied.

“Kingsley gave me another dragon comic,” Logan’s dad said.

“How many do you have now?” xir mom asked, leaning towards her husband. “That’s at least fifteen, right?”

Logan’s dad made a clicking noise with his mouth and raised his eyebrows. “That was number seventeen.”

Logan’s mom whistled. “Wow.”

“Also Kiera declared that she’s writing a novel now and Latonya and Gabriel have declared archenemyhood on each other,” he added.

She sighed. “I love my job, but some days I wish I had decided to teach elementary school instead.”

It was quiet for a few moments- Logan’s dad discovered his soup had cooled off enough for him to eat it, so for a bit they focused on eating. Logan though xe should maybe just… speak up and get it over with. In Virgil’s words, like a band-aid, just ripping it off.

“So, uh, hey,” Logan said. Both xir parents looked up, immediately cued into xir discomfort. That had not been the best way xe could’ve started this conversation.

“Yes?” xir mom said.

Logan fiddled with xir spoon. “You know how I’m non-binary…”

“Neither of us missed that conversation,” xir dad said.

“Well,” Logan said, looking down at xir hands, “what if I wanted to use different pronouns?”

“Which pronouns do you want?” xir mom asked.

“Uh, xe/xir,” Logan replied, and she frowned.

“Spelled how?” she asked. “I mean, there are multiple different ways you could spell that, I’ve read some stories where it’s spelled z-i-e and z-i-r I’m just… curious.” She blushed as she ran out of steam. Her husband was making the biggest heart eyes in her direction.

“Aw, Maria,” he said. “You stopped babbling.”

“Not all of us think babbling is cute, Evan,” she said. She was blushing harder. “Anyways, Logan, how would you prefer we spell your pronouns?”

“Uh,” Logan said. “X-e and x-i-r.”

“While we’re on the topic,” Evan said. “What words would you rather we use for you? Like, instead of introducing you as our son, how would you rather be introduced? Kid? Child? Offspring? Spawn?”

Logan held back a laugh when xir dad said ‘spawn’. Xe’d have to tell Virgil about that option later… Was Virgil even still on speaking terms with their parents? Xe might have to ask.

“Child would be fine,” Logan replied.

“I dunno,” Maria said. “I think I prefer spawn, myself. Logan Lehrer the Introverted, Spawn of Evan the Gregarious. It has a nice ring to it.”

Once they had (mostly) stopped laughing, Logan turned to xir mom.

“Never, ever, call me that in front of Roman,” xe said.

From the look on her face, Maria was probably going to end up doing that.

a/n: i am an evan and maria stan first and a person second

taglist: @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @awesomelissawho @pixieprincess14 @sanders-trash-4ever @ethereal-lullabies