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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years ago

Text

SLEEPLESS

a/n: omg! it's been so long since i last wrote something for harry so it feels a bit weird but in a good way to be back. i've been spending more time offline so writing hasn't been going that fast like before, but im working on a few other stuff too! just please be patient with me, im trying my besti swear! so now enjoy this oneshot of two oblivious and stupid roommates who start sharing a bed...

pairing: Roommate!Harry x reader

word count: 8.1k

masterlist

Living with three boys has its perks but also a lot of downsides too. It’s not how you planned, you were set to move in with one of your friends from second year, but she bailed on you last minute, leaving you with no place to live when most of the houses were already taken for the next at least one year. You were bracing yourself to sleep under a bridge or something already when your heroes came along.

You went to high school with Harry Niall and Louis, but you weren’t exactly in the same friend group, just knew about each other. Then you ended up in the same Lit class freshman year with Harry and he was basically your pass into their little group. You hit it off pretty easily and you always wondered why you didn’t become friends before college. Later you had two more classes with him in the second semester and it was just all a coincidence that he found out about your living situation.

“Why don’t you move in with us?” he prompted one afternoon when you were studying together in the library.

“I’m not sharing a room with any of you, Harry,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“You wouldn’t have to. We had a fourth mate living with us but he dropped out about a month ago. You could take his bedroom.”

“Are for real? You should talk about it with the boys first, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind it. They like you too and if I’m being honest, the place could use the touch of a woman,” he smirked and you just rolled your eyes, but you were incredibly thankful for the offer.

So after talking with Niall and Louis about it and once they gave their amens on the situation, you officially moved in with the three of them.

You’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been times when you thought about choosing the bridge, living with boys is not exactly a dream. They are messy, sometimes loud and oblivious about certain things women do and need. You’ll never forget Niall’s face when you packed the shelf above the toilet with your tampons and pads. The horror in his eyes as he examined all the different sizes and types.

“But why so many? I don’t get it why you need the large ones and the mini ones too,” he huffed.

“Because I vary them according to the strength of my flow.”

“Bless you,” he scoffed and just walked away.

They tend to leave their clothes around the house and they don’t always realize when it’s time to let some fresh air into the place either. Harry has a sixth sense wanting to use the bathroom when you’re in and Louis always forgets to get rid of his spoiled food from the fridge. Tini things that surely got you thinking if it was a good idea to move in with them. But then there are times when you can’t even imagine sharing a home with anyone else than these three idiots.

The way Harry always leaves you a cup of coffee on the counter when he has an early class on mondays and wednesdays, how Niall always waits for you to get home after your night shifts at the restaurant you’ve been working at, but he always just says he was watching Supernatural on TV. You love that Louis goes out of his way to get you your favorite pastry for breakfast on sundays when he goes for his morning runs. But the absolute best is that you never feel alone or bored with these three around. Something is always happening and they make sure to involve you in everything, making you feel like part of their little pack.

Tonight is Thursday and Thursdays are movie nights in your home. It’s been a tradition since the first week and you haven’t missed any of them. Sitting on the couch at your usual spot, you laugh as Niall growls in annoyance when you suggest to watch another rom-com.

“Not again!” he protests, sitting on the floor by the coffee table you and Harry thrifted a few months ago after the previous one was broken at a smaller party held in the house.

“Why? I bet Harry would love it!” you grin, glancing at the guy in talk who is now entering the room with a big bowl of popcorn.

“Of course he would, because he is a pussy! And the two of you always team up, dragging Louis with you so I can never watch something I enjoy!” Niall whines as Harry sits next to you, not too bothered by his friend’s cries.

“Come on, I bet you enjoyed Crazy, Stupid Love last week!” you laugh, remembering how he whined for the first part, then fell asleep at the end.

“Love, if you think that was enjoyment, I wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend,” Niall scoffs and you gasp at his reply.

“Hey!” you snap at him, but can’t help laughing. This is how it always goes with you and Niall, the non-stop bickering can sometimes drive Harry and Lou insane.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” Harry asks, throwing some popcorn into his mouth as he gets comfortable, an arm resting on the back of the couch behind you, the other one busy with the snack in his lap.

“There is this new horror I’ve been dying to see!” Niall’s blue eyes light up right away, but you’re fast to break that shine.

“Nah, no way. I’m not watching a horror movie.”

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking hate them and they scare the shit out of me.”

“That’s like the whole point!” he protests, but you shake your head no again.

“What are you fighting about again?” Louis asks, walking into the room after his quick shower, the smell of his body wash filling the room for a few moments.

“I want to watch a horror movie, but Y/N is a little baby and she doesn’t want to.”

“I’m not a baby! I just don’t enjoy watching people get killed or demons sucking the life out of someone!” Niall just rolls his eyes at your response.

“But it’s always what you or Harry wants to watch, why can’t I choose just this once?”

“That’s not true, we watch movies you like too!” you retort, but Niall gives you an unimpressed look. “We watched that crime thing, that was your choice!”

“That was three months ago, Y/N,” he sighs and as you do some quick math you realize that he is right.

“Hey, he has a point. Let’s just watch what he wants this one time, yeah?” Harry curls his arm that’s been on the back of the couch around your shoulder and he pulls you to his side, squeezing you gently.

“But I hate horrors,” you pout, knowing well that it’s already kind of settled, you lost this battle.

“It’s just a movie. And if you get scared in the night, you can sleep at mine,” he offers with a wink that surely makes your heartbeat fasten a bit.

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a tiny crush on Harry, even back in high school, when you didn’t really know him. He was the cool guy, but not the douchebag type, more like the one that was nice to everyone and earned their respect and liking. Getting to know him just proved that he really is a great guy, but you figured he would never feel the same way about you. These three guys only saw you as their sister and that was in a way kinda worse than being friend zoned, but there’s nothing you can do about it, so you just decided to come to peace with your situation. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered when you see him wander around the house in just his boxers or when he gets a little touchy with you, which happens a lot, because that’s just how he is. Hands on your shoulders, a little squeeze on your hips, the gentle touch of his fingers on your back, they happen all the time and they get your pulse up every time. You can only hope it’s not that noticeable.

Niall finally gets what he wants and you agree to watch that stupid horror movie. It doesn’t start off too bad, but it quickly escalates and makes you shudder every time the screen gets a little darker or the music is foreshadowing that something is about to happen.

“Jesus fuck!” you jump a little when the killer appears out of nowhere in the scene.

“You alright?” Harry asks, peeking down at you.

“I fucking hate this dude,” you mumble, rubbing your face with your hands, to get your shit together. Harry chuckles lightly next to you, his arm pulling you to his side close and you gladly sink against him, the warmth of his body giving you some comfort and a sense of safety.

Your eyes are on the screen, but your mind is dancing around how his fingers are delicately running up and down your arm, drawing circles and little shapes on your skin. It could put you to sleep easily, even with the woman screaming on the screen after seeing her husband get killed.

“Just imagine the guy with a funny mustache,” Harry murmurs, leaning closer to you so he doesn’t bother the other two guys with his comment. “Or maybe in a ridiculous outfit.”

“Like… in a onsie?” you ask, squinting your eyes at the screen.

“Could be, yeah,” he chuckles quietly. “Just imagine him running through the woods in a onsie with bunnies all over it.”

You can’t push your laughter down, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t bother the others. Harry just smirks, giving you a squeeze as you’re still melted against his side on the couch, legs pulled up to your chest, while his are spread out in front of him.

“Definitely not that scary,” you giggle and Harry hums in agreement.

“Would you mind getting a fucking room, you guys? You have two, in fact!” Niall snaps at you playfully, when you start laughing again.

“Sorry, sorry!” you clear your throat, your cheeks heating up at the comment, but luckily it’s dark enough to hide your embarrassment. Niall is always quick to make dirty jokes and tease you in a way that makes you nervous, especially when it involves Harry as well. He has made plenty of comments about you and Harry since you’ve moved in, implying that the two of you sometimes act like a couple or that you should hook up. Harry is always quick to shake them off, that’s how you know he couldn’t even take the thought seriously.

At the end of the movie you feel like it wasn’t bad, not with Harry holding you close at least.

“Will you be screaming tonight, Y/N?” Niall teases you, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Either way it’s gonna be your fault.”

“I can live with that!” he laughs, bidding his goodbye before he shuts the door of his bedroom behind him.

You do your usual evening routine, get ready to bed and by the time you’re done in the bathroom all the boys have retired into their rooms. The hallway stands dark in front of you, only a tiny bit of light coming from your bedroom since you left your bedside lamp on in there, but you still can’t help the eerie feeling that washes over you. That movie didn’t sit right with you and now you have to face the aftermath of it.

Switching the lights in the bathroom off you sprint into your bedroom, pictures from the movie flashing in your mind of the killer just jumping out of nowhere. You shut the door and lean your back against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. Tonight is going to be long.

No matter how hard you try, you just can’t fall asleep. You’re way too alerted, opening your eyes at the tiniest of sounds around you, which is unfortunate, because your window is looking over the main street, unlike two other rooms in the house, that are facing the small backyard. Harry and Louis have the luck to have those rooms.

Every time you’re about to fall asleep something from the movie sneaks into your thoughts and you get scared to death. Soon, you realize you won’t be able to sleep on your own tonight.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you wonder if Harry really meant that offer that you can sleep with him or not. Part of you is convinced it was just a joke, but when you hear someone shouting down the street you push your doubts aside and you quickly find yourself making your way to Harry’s room.

You knock on the room lightly, not wanting to wake anyone else up. The last thing you need is Niall seeing you go into Harry’s room in the middle of the night.

No answer comes from inside, but you won’t just leave it at that. Opening the door you’re facing another dark room, barely making out the furniture, but you already know the route by heart. Making it to the bed your eyes finally adjust to the darkness and you can see Harry lying on his side, sleeping peacefully. Squatting down you place a hand to his shoulder and give him a tiny shake.

“Harry?” you call out quietly, but his answer is just a huff. “Harry, it’s me,” you try again, squeezing his arm. He furrows his eyebrows before slowly blinking his eyes open, finding you in his sight.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks in that groggy, low voice you love hearing in the morning so much.

“I can’t… Did you mean that I can sleep here if I’m scared?” you ask, afraid that he might just have a good laugh and send you back to your room. For a long moment, he just blinks at you before nodding his head and you feel relief washing over you.

“Sure,” he hums.

“O-okay then I’ll bring a blanket and take the floor and--”

“Shut up, you are not sleeping on the floor,” he growls, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into bed with him as he scoots over, making you space on the mattress.

It’s a bit weird at first, lying in bed with Harry, especially because it’s just queen sized, so there’s not much space between the two of you, but it seems like Harry doesn’t mind it so why should you?

Your nerves are a lot calmer with Harry next to you, but maybe it’s still because of the movie or because you’re a bit anxious about the whole situation, you just still can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

“Y/N, no one is gonna kill you here,” Harry speaks up surprising you because you thought he has already fallen back asleep.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, trying to sound convincing, but you can’t fool anyone, especially not him.

He huffs deeply and before you could realize what’s happening, Harry’s arm is curled around your waist, pulling you against him, spooning you from behind, the warmth of his body wrapping your figure almost entirely.

“If a murderer comes, they will have to fight me first, alright? Now sleep,” he mumbles against your hair, squeezing you gently. All at once, you couldn’t care about killers and dark shadows around you, because Harry was right there, holding you tight and there was nowhere you wanted to be more than right there.

You slept like a baby. Harry’s closeness kept every nightmare away from you and the morning came with ease. Harry’s phone wakes the two of you up at eight, because he has a morning class at 9.30. The two of you are completely tangled up in each other, lying on your side facing each other, Harry’s arms are wrapped around you, while yours are hugging his waist. Groaning at the sound of his alarm, he rolls to his back to reach for the phone on the nightstand and then he finally turns it off. It’s bright outside, the darkness of the night finally long gone. You’re still groggy when Harry rolls back, his arm coming back around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world and in a sense, it feels like that. But as you both slowly wake up, you realize that you might be a little too close. Slowly but surely you let go of each other, rolling to your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hope I didn’t kick you in my sleep,” you smile at him, peeking over at him, hoping to break the awkwardness of the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, rubbing his eyes, before pushing himself up and off the bed. You follow him with your gaze as he steps to his dresser and grabs a pair of clean underwear. “I’ll put on a coffee while I shower, want one too?” he asks, though you know he could make one for you anyway.

“Sure, thank you,” you nod and he nods back, yawning as he walks out of the room, leaving you lying in his bed, a bit confused and kind of aching to be held by him again.

Two days pass by, everything is going as per usual, neither you nor Harry brings up that you spent the night in his bed that one particular time. Now it’s saturday and you all were planning to go out, but a sudden storm has cancelled your plans, so the evening turned into a cozy, lazy hangout instead of a wild party at some frat house.

Louis decided to work on a paper that’s due in two weeks, Niall has been relentlessly swiping on Tinder while you and Harry are spawled out on the couch, watching some shitty action movie that was on TV, since you both were too lazy to choose one and put it on. Deep down you’re a little happy you don’t have to spend the evening in a crowded, smelly house, drinking cheap alcohol.

Harry gets up from his seat to grab himself a drink just when Niall growls in annoyance.

“What is it?” you ask.

“They keep unmatching with me after we’ve talked a little!”

“Have you thought about the reason?” you smirk at him, knowing well that Niall probably isn’t the easiest to talk to, he surely takes it too far too soon.

“Well they probably don’t like that I ask them if I can go over,” he shrugs, making you laugh.

“You’d go over in the pouring rain?” Harry asks, returning to his spot on the couch. He puts his drink to the coffee table and instead of sitting into his previous position, leaning against the arm of the couch, he lies down, laying his head to your thigh, making your breath hitch for a moment.

“Of course not!” Niall rolls his eyes. “But I thought it would make them think I would do anything for them.”

“It makes you seem desperate,” Harry retorts, earning a questioning look from his friend. “What? It does!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does,” you nod in agreement. “Going over in the middle of a storm just to fuck? Sounds like you’re having a hard time finding someone.”

“Women are so fucking complicated, and for what?!” he growls, before storming off to his bedroom, like an angsty teenager, leaving you and Harry alone.

He doesn’t move, his head stays on your thigh using it as a pillow. His curls are tickling the soft skin on your thigh and you have to fight the urge to play with his hair or scratch his scalp. You stay like this for the rest of the movie and when he gets up you almost want to pull him back.

“Alright, I’m fucked, I’m gonna go to bed,” he yawns, stretching his arms out into the air as he heads into his bedroom. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Harry!” you call after him as you watch his frame disappear down the hallway.

Sighing, you slide down on the couch, cursing under your breath that you’re still so hung up on Harry. You really thought that you had it under control, but lately those damn butterflies are acting up in your stomach at everything he does.

“I’m pathetic,” you mumble under your breath just as the sky rumbles outside with a blinding lightning, making you jump with a squeak. “Shit,” you huff, already knowing that falling asleep will be a pain in the ass. Again.

You’ve always hated storms, they make you think that something bad is about to happen, a tree is about to fall into the window or a lightning will blow up the building. It’s kind of stupid, you know it, but you just can’t help it.

Tossing and turning, you jump every time a lightning flashes somewhere outside and a few seconds later the thunder rips through your whole body, almost making you fall off the bed.

“Oh God,” you let out a shaky breath. You have no idea how long it is until the Storm finally stops and you’d really like to have a good night's sleep. So pushing your anxious thoughts to the side, you get out of bed and head over to Harry’s room once again.

It’s such a deja vu from a few nights ago, as you gently knock on the door you wait again, but this time you actually get an answer.

“Yeah?” you hear him call out from inside and you slowly open the door, peeking your head inside. Harry is lying in bed, his head propped up against the headboard as he is scrolling through his phone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks, putting the phone aside as he sits up.

“I just, I-I know it’s stupid, but I was thinking… I don’t know--”

“Y/N, just tell me, alright? Come on in,” he gestures for you and you slip into the room, closing the door behind you before sitting to the edge of the bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep during storms…” you admit, looking into his eyes, hoping he gets the hint where you want to head with it. He stares back at you for a moment before he scoots over, lifting the covers up, giving you the green light to join him.

Relieved, you climb over to him, making yourself comfortable as he wraps the blanket over you, his arm immediately coming to cradle you, this time pulling you to his chest so your head is laid upon his shoulder, a hand gently placed onto his hard chest, probably right above where his butterfly tattoo is adorning his abdomen.

This is now easily your favorite place. Safe and tight in Harry’s arms, protected from anything and everything, like you’re in a little bubble as soon as you get on his bed.

Lightning strikes outside again and you shiver a little. Harry probably notices it, because he tightens his hold around you, as if it’s his way telling you that he is here and nothing bad is gonna happen. Eventually, you’re able to shut the outside out and only focus on Harry’s warmth, the touch of his hand on your arm and his even breathing. And then finally, you drift off to sleep.

This morning is different from the previous one you spent here. There’s no alarm since it’s Sunday, neither of you have anything in particular to do, so you wake up feeling rested, the Sun shining through his half drawn in curtains, no trace of last night’s storm can be noticed from where you’re lying in bed, the sky is as clear as ever. Sometime during the night you got tangled in a way where Harry is the one now cuddling you, his head lying on your chest, hugging you as if you were a giant teddy bear, his leg thrown between yours, lightly snoring against your sleep shirt. You can only see his mop of hair and the urge to play with them is back, but this time, you give in.

Leaving one hand on his back, you move the other one to his unruly locks, gently playing with one before you comb your fingers through it, lightly scratching his scalp. Harry hums in pleasure, shifting from his dreams back to reality, but he doesn’t move, just keeps humming as you massage his scalp.

“It’s not a good morning, it’s the best,” he mumbles groggily, making you chuckle at his words.

One of his hands is flat against your ribcage and the damned butterflies start dancing when you feel his fingers gently stroke your side as you keep playing with his curls. This feels so idyllic, as if you’ve been like this forever. You wish that was true.

Groaning as he stretches, Harry rolls to his back, making you instantly miss his body pressed against yours. He rubs his eyes, sighing deep as he blinks up at the ceiling a few times, then he turns his head to the side, looking at you.

Just when he is about to say something, outside his door it sounds like someone just broke a pile of plates and it’s followed by Niall’s usual annoyed growl. You both get out of bed to go and check what happened, not even thinking about how it might appear that you both are coming from Harry’s room in the morning.

Harry flings the door open and there is Niall, collecting pieces of a plate from the floor, his breakfast scattered down the hallway as well while he curses under his breath.

“What happened?” Harry asks, picking up a bigger piece from the plate.

“Fucking tripped,” he growls back, glancing up just for a moment, then back down, but then he processes that you’re standing behind Harry, in his room, in the morning. “What the fuck are you doing in Harry’s room?” he bluntly asks, quickly forgetting about the mess he just made.

“What?” you ask nervously, your pulse quickening in an instant. Harry stands up, seemingly not too bothered by Niall’s question.

“You slept in his room?!”

“She did,” Harry answers, leaning against the doorframe.

“Wait, are you two fucking?” Niall’s eyes widen, snapping back and forth between you and Harry.

“Just because two people sleep in the same bed, doesn’t mean they are fucking, Niall,” Harry chuckles, seemingly amused by the situation that’s got your stomach knotted. Louis’ door opens and he walks out, his hair a little messy, but already dressed, a mug halfway filled with coffee in his hand.

“Wha’s this circus out here?” he asks, looking around, his eyes scanning over the mess on the floor.

“Did you know these two are fucking?” Niall asks him and Harry lets his head drop back at his words.

“Are you?” Louis simply questions and you shake your head no.

“We are not. Y/N can’t sleep in a storm so she came over to mine.”

“Funny, she doesn’t come to me when she’s scared,” Niall scoffs.

“I never came to you because you don’t understand that sleeping together doesn’t mean sex,” you retort, though your ears are practically burning from the rising anxiety inside you.

“Wait, whoa. This wasn’t the first time you two slept together?”

“She was scared after your stupid horror movie too,” Harry shrugs.

“Wow, so are you guys a thing now or what?”

“Niall!” Harry growls and you’re not entirely sure what bothers you more. Niall’s shock and interrogation or the way Harry seems so cool and unbothered, like it’s no big deal. Maybe because for him it really isn’t, it’s only about the sleeping, nothing else, even though the cuddles are a little beyond the lines of friendship.

“What? I’m just asking the important stuff! Am I not allowed to tell dirty jokes to Y/N because you’ll cut my prick off?”

“You shouldn’t tell those anyway,” Louis chimes in and you nod in agreement.

Seeing that the conversation is just getting more and more awkward with each passing moment you decide to pull yourself out of it. Pushing yourself past Harry you mumble an excuse me before rushing back into your room, the three boys eyeing you curiously as you shut the door behind you, finally putting a physical barrier between you and them.

You shouldn’t be this offended, it’s not like any promises were made and you should have known better and not fall for him more than you already did. It was silly of you to think that there was anything more behind these nights spent curled up against each other, or when you woke up tangled and melted together. It was never what you hoped it to be.

Then and there you decide it’s better if you distanced yourself from him, or at least go back to how it was before. No bed sharing, no cuddling and preferably no bitter feelings.

It all goes well, because you have a pretty busy week after that day, you always have something to do and it’s not like you spent the night with Harry randomly, so it was evident that you stayed in your room so far.

But about a week later another storm was threatening to strike. The sky was gradually darkening all afternoon and now it’s only five o’clock, but it feels like eight. It’s Sunday, you’re quite exhausted since you were working until three. Niall was out somewhere with some of his coursemates and Louis went home for the weekend, won’t be back until Tuesday. It’s just you and Harry, who’s been sprawled out on the couch in only his sweatpants while you’re making yourself an early dinner so you can go to bed soon and have a good night’s sleep.

It doesn’t take long for the rain to start pouring, you’ve just gotten out of the shower when the first thunder rips through the place, making you gasp in fear. Harry’s head snaps around, looking in your way where you’re standing at the bathroom door, a questioning look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say a word. Ignoring his gaze, you just make your way into your bedroom, not even thinking about what could be on his mind. Is he thinking about whether you’ll ask to sleep with him again or he doesn’t care about it at all?

By the time you are ready to go to bed, the storm is fully raging outside, making your insides tremble every time you see a lightning or the thunder breaks the quietness in the house. You make one last trip to the kitchen, finding Harry leaned against the counter as he eats an apple.

“Going to bed early?” he asks as you pour yourself some water.

“Mhm,” you nod, avoiding looking at him.

“Everything alright?”

“Sure, I’m just tired,” you force a small smile onto your face just when a thunder rumbles outside, making you jump. Harry is watching you curiously and kind of expectantly, but you’re doing your best ignoring it. Instead, you just grab your water and head back to your room. “Good night.”

“Night, Y/N,” he calls after you, and you can feel his burning gaze on your back right until you close the door behind you.

Your plan to sleep a good ten hours goes right out the window. It doesn’t seem like the storm is about to calm anytime soon, so you’re stuck to suffer through it on your own. You’ll be damned to go to Harry’s, that would be an instant heart break and you just can’t take that right now. Long, torturous hours pass by with you lying awake in bed and part of you wants to go running over to Harry, but you force yourself to stay. It’s not happening tonight.

You fall asleep sometime after two in the morning when the thunder and lightning have stopped. Unfortunately, you need to wake up early in the morning, so when your phone’s alarm shakes you out of your sleep, you feel like absolute shit. Dragging yourself out of bed appears to be the hardest thing right now. As you make your way out, you are met with an all too familiar figure sitting at the small dining table, two cups of coffees in front of him, one obviously made for you.

Harry’s eyes snap up at you curiously, taking in your terrible looks as you head to the bathroom.

“Morning,” you mumble under your breath.

“Good morning’,” he nods in your way and though he doesn’t say anything else, you can tell he has a few thoughts about your current state.

Once you’re done with your morning business in there you join him at the table, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Rough night?” he asks, eyes examining your face.

“Kinda.”

“The storm?”

You don’t answer, just nod your head. He remains silent, but you can feel that he is dying to ask another question.

Why didn’t you come over?

You’re glad he doesn’t actually asks you, because you wouldn’t be able to give either a normal answer or say anything without starting to cry. Instead, you just grab your coffee and head back into your bedroom to get ready for the day.

That week on Friday all four of you are invited to a party. At first you want to cancel, but some of your friends from classes will be there too and it’s been ages since you’ve been to a great party, so you decide to tag along with the boys.

For the first half of the evening you go your separate way, spending time with people you don’t actually live with and see every day. One drink follows the other, though you make sure you don’t go farther than getting tipsy. You’re not in the mood to deal with a nasty hangover in the morning.

Sometime after your third or fourth drink you run into Niall and he pulls you into their little circle that also involves Harry. When he sees that you’ve joined them, his eyes light up and goes out of his way to get next to you.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” he whines, slurring his words as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you at his side. He is definitely drunk, that you’re sure of.

“It’s been just about two hours, Harry,” you roll your eyes, but can’t push your smile down. You’d be lying if you said you’re not enjoying having him so close. Your dynamic hasn’t been the same since you stopped sleeping in his bed. Not that it was such a regular activity, it only happened two times.

“But I missed you, I feel like we haven’t… haven’t talked in so long!” he huffs, knitting his eyebrows together. “Have you been avoiding me?” he asks leaning closer, so your conversation can somewhat be private.

“That’s silly. Of course I haven’t!”

“But it feels like that,” he pouts with glossy eyes. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Sure,” you nod, the bitter taste of lying filling your mouth.

“Alright, cool,” he smirks and pulling closer he kisses into your hair before he engages with the rest of the group again, keeping his arm around you as if it wasn’t a big deal.

For the rest of the evening you simply don’t leave his side and not because he doesn’t let you, but because you don’t want to. Harry is not the only one missing the other, this week you’ve noticed that even though you’ve been keeping yourself busy, your thoughts always took you back to one particular, curly haired boy. Despite everything that’s been going on, he is your friend first and foremost who you love spending time with and talking about anything and everything.

Both of you are intoxicated, Harry a bit more than you, but you’re having a blast playing beerpong or ruining Niall’s chances with girls he is trying to pick up. You’re genuinely having an amazing time and it wouldn’t be the same without Harry.

Arriving back home your little group splits, everyone using the bathroom after the other and you’re the last one in line, because you always take the longest. By the time you’re finished, Louis and Niall are both locked up in their rooms, but Harry’s door is still open, some dim lighting illuminating the hallway. As you approach it, you find him throwing his dirty clothes into the hamper, but his head perks up when he sees you.

“Good night, H,” you sigh, quite tired and in need of a good sleep, but before you could head into your own bedroom, Harry grabs your wrist and pulls you into his. “What is it?”

“Sleep here,” he simply prompts, already leading you to the bed.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“I-I… I don’t--” you stutter, feeling flustered from his offer.

“Come on, you can’t say no,” he tells you, already crawling under his covers and then he holds them up as the invitation.

Taking a deep breath you follow him and make yourself comfortable in your almost usual spot. Harry’s arm falls over your waist in an instant, spooning you from behind as he hums pleased. But a few moments later he lifts his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“You know you can say no, right? I was just joking.” Looking back at him you give him a small smile. Even drunk he makes sure you aren’t doing anything you don’t want to, but how could you not want it? You’ve been aching to sleep next to him all week, especially after the last storm when you suffered alone in your room.

“I know, Harry.”

“Alright, okay,” he nods, his head dropping back to the pillow. “I missed this,” he mumbles with a sigh.

“Yeah?”

“Mm, sleeping alone sucks,” he hums and in a split second, your heart breaks.

Harry didn’t want to sleep with you, he just wanted to sleep with someone and you were the one there. It has nothing to do with you.

You want to blame him, you want it to be his fault that your chest is now aching, knowing that it truly doesn’t mean the same thing to him it does to you, but you know you can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, so once again, you’re left with a sinking heart wrapped up into Harry’s embrace that suddenly feels burning.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

When the morning comes Harry is still sleeping deep beside you, an arm thrown over your waist, puffing warm air against the side of your head with every breath he exhales. Seeing him so peaceful warms your heart, but then you realize everything that happened last night, how he only used you because you were available and not because he wanted you.

You don’t want to wait for him to wake up and face him, your emotions would surely bring the best out of you. So carefully, you unwrap yourself from his hold and sneak out of his room, back into yours.

There’s no way you can face Harry right now, so before he could wake up you leave, planning on spending the day in the library, working on your assignments, hoping the school work will take your mind off of how badly you’ve been friendzoned.

Sometime after eleven Harry actually texts you asking where you went and you just tell him you have a shitload of school stuff to deal with. He asks if he can join you, but you tell him you’re with a group of your classmates, even though you’re sitting in an almost entirely empty library. He luckily doesn’t push it and leaves you to be. Hopefully he’ll be fine when you take another step away from him for a while to get your head straight and sort your emotions out.

You get home quite late, but not late enough, apparently. Because walking into the house you find the boys clearly getting ready to watch a movie.

“Just in time!” Niall beams. “Join us, Princess!” he laughs, grabbing himself a cola from the fridge.

“Oh, no, I have some things to work on--”

“Come on, you’ve been in the library all day, you can have a break!” Louis tells you and you know you won’t be left alone, they are just so persistent.

So you join them in your usual spot, which is of course next to Harry, though you’re trying to avoid his gaze that hasn’t left you since you arrived and by now you’re certain he knows you’re avoiding him. There’s a reason why he asked you last night if you’ve been doing it lately, he is not stupid, but this is not the time to deal with it.

With your inner crisis bubbling inside you, you completely forget to ask what you’re watching. A few minutes into the movie it becomes quite clear however.

“Is this a fucking horror movie again?” you ask, snapping at Niall, who just starts laughing.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Harry will gladly let you sleep in his bed tonight,” he teases, making your whole face heat up at his comment. Harry slaps his chest before he turns to you with concern filled eyes, but you pretend like you see nothing, turning back to the screen with your jaw clenched.

You’re fucked.

The movie is a fucking shitshow and leaves you traumatized. When it’s over, you think about why didn’t you just stand up and go into your room when you realized it’s another horror. For a change, this one was filled with demons and monsters that hide in the shadows, just what you need before going to bed. In the night. In a totally dark room.

Exiting the bathroom you’re already planning on watching something lighthearted and cheerful in your room, hoping that would make you forget the movie you just saw and give you the chance to actually sleep.

Walking past Harry’s room you see that it’s still open and you catch him expectantly looking at you when you appear in the doorway as you walk down the hallway, your eyes meeting for just a split second before you disappear from his sight and shut your bedroom door without a word behind you.

No matter how many random videos you watch on YouTube, some scenes from the movie are just imprinted into your mind and they have you trembling in fear. Every shadow looks like a demon or ghost, hiding in your room, ready to haunt and kill you and you’re on the verge of actually crying. It might not be only because of the movie, more like everything else that’s been bottled up inside you, added to the fear the movie has brought to you.

Shutting your eyes closed you try to take deep breaths and for a bit it actually seems to help, but that is until you hear the door opening. It gives you an instant heart attack and you can’t keep your tears back anymore.

A whimper leaves your mouth as the door opens and you can only see a shadow entering the room, totally not recognizing Harry in the dark.

“Y/N, hey, it’s just me! It’s okay!” he quickly clears, seeing how shaken up you are. He rushes over to the bed, one hand cupping your cheek, the other one finding your hand and before you could think, you grip it hard.

“You scared the living hell out of me!” you cry out, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on you.”

Silence sets between the two of you that’s only momentarily broken by your shaky breaths as you try to calm yourself down.

“Why didn’t you come to mine after the movie if you were so scared?” he then asks, surprising you with how straightforward he is.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you mumble, blinking the remaining of the tears away as Harry stares down at you intently.

“Why would you think you’d bother me? I like having you there.”

“But it’s… Doesn’t matter,” you sigh in defeat, but it just concerns him even more.

“No, tell me!”

“Harry, just go back to your room. I’ll be fine.”

“You definitely won’t and I’m not leaving until you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he protests firmly and you lose your patience to keep lying to him.

“You just wanted someone to sleep with yesterday, okay? You didn’t need me. And… I don’t want to depend on you more than I should.”

Harry stares back at you with a blank expression and you feel like this is going to be the end of your friendship. You have to come clean about your feelings and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way. But then he speaks up and the tables turn faster than ever.

“Y/N, I wanted you to sleep with me last night. Not just anyone. You.”

“What?”

“I really thought we have been on the same page, but apparently, we’re not even in the same book,” he sighs, confusing you even more. “Wasn’t it suspicious how things have been between us lately? The way we slept, the mornings, did you think these are normal things to do?”

“I-I thought that… it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Well it did,” he replies and you breath hitches in your throat. “I was trying to take it slow, see how you’d react to everything and I thought you were feeling the same way. But then last time you didn’t come to my room when there was a storm and I thought that was your way of telling me that you want to pause whatever’s been going on.”

You’re just blinking in shock, listening to his words. This is nothing you expected.

“But then you seemed like you opened back up last night and you agreed to sleep with me, thought we were back on track, but then you were nowhere to be found in the morning, avoided me all day and now you would have rather spent the night crying here alone than to come over to me. What did I do? Just tell me, because quite frankly, I have no idea what we are doing anymore, Y/N,” he sighs, clearly tired of this insane game you’ve been playing without even knowing.

“So… you did all of this, because… you…”

“Because I like you, Y/N. But there’s a possibility it’s already way more than just a strong liking,” he admits with a soft chuckle that melts you in an instant.

“Oh god, I could cry again, but not out of fear this time,” you tell him, making him laugh as you scoot closer to him on the mattress. “I feel the same way, Harry,” you softly tell him, your hands finding the base of his neck while his hands have wandered to your waist so now he is pulling you towards him until he ends up in his lap. His face is now so close, and even in the dark, you can see the cheesy smile on his pink lips.

“You’re not saying this just to keep me here because you’re scared to be alone, right?” he asks, clearly joking, earning a wholehearted laugh from you.

“No, but I guess that would be a major benefit of it.”

“I’ll protect you from all the demons and killers under one condition,” he smirks, his face already inching closer, his nose is already touching yours.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“I get to kiss you.”

“Deal.”

You barely say this one little word, his lips are already on yours, kissing you in a way that almost knocks all the air out of your lungs. You press yourself up against him, his arms curling around you, holding you tight as if he is already protecting you from everything that scares you, though you can’t really think about the stupid horror movies now that you’re kissing Harry.

He pulls you down with himself making you lie on your back as he holds himself up above you, his lips parting from your just enough so he can look into your eyes.

“How about I kiss you every time you feel scared?” he prompts, pecking your lips gently as you pull your legs up and his hips settle between your thighs, while your hands dance down his back.

“Alright, I’m in,” you smirk at him and for a moment he just stares back at you, smiling wide, in complete awe that it’s finally happening. Then he cocks his head to the side before speaking up.

“Are you still scared?”

“Very,” you nod. “I’m shaking.”

“Good,” he grins before his lips press onto yours again.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles oneshots #harry styles one shots #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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sergiovinazzi · 3 years ago

Text

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

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sakurashell · 3 years ago

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Hello hello, I haven’t been active in the past few days and I used the time offline to take a final decision. Hopefully this doesn’t come off as a surprise, but I’ve been pondering over it for a while, so now I can finally bid you guys a proper (and ultimate, unlike the last time) goodbye. I, in all honesty, didn’t even want to bother you all with a long ass post —so I hope I won’t fall yet again in my bad habit of explaining myself too much— but leaving so suddenly felt odd, so here I am.

There’s really no specific explanation to this, I just don’t feel like staying and for as much as I try, I realize that playing this kind of role in the community isn’t for me, and I want to focus on different things now. Having a writing blog is so much more than just writing, and with the way readers tend to consume content these days, I find myself uncomfortable with sharing things on this platform. Mind you, there’s nothing wrong with it, it just isn’t my cup of tea! I struggle to write most of the time, I have a limited amount of time to indulge in this hobby in the first place as of now, and unfortunately, I usually feel pressured even when no one is actively pressuring me into doing something, and tumblr would just be another source of stress I don’t feel like putting on my shoulders (especially when it should be something I purely enjoy). Of course, this is no one’s fault.

Tumblr is, after all, a social media, and with the way I want to keep things —that is, merely writing a fic instead of, you know, blogging and sharing stuff along with it— it goes without saying that having a blog is not something that particularly fits my personality and intentions when it comes to writing. I will continue to post updates on ao3, when I feel like it and I have time, but that’s about it! I’m grateful for every person I’ve had the opportunity to interact with on this app, as it really made the experience tenfold better. I loved seeing you on my dash, talking to you, complimenting your beautiful works, and overall just having the opportunity to interact with such beautiful people. To everyone who liked, reblogged, followed me or commented on one of my stories even once, thank you. If you’ve ever left a nice message in my inbox, thank you.

@lacheri, @astridthevalkyrie, @bibblelevi, @junibugs, @oh-katsuki, @heich0e, @princess-jaeger, @ficsforeren, @coyloves, @bokebelle, @iinumaki, @yandereshingeki, @httpjaeg, @peace-for-levi, @sintiva, @levmada, @novaresque, @jeanslove, @eldiandiablo, @ryukatters, @starryenigma, @j0livi0ni and to all my mutuals I didn’t have the chance to interact with more (or the ones I forgot, because I’m sure I missed someone), I love you all and I wish you the best. You are all —each one of you in their unique way— amazing writers and extremely talented people, I really wish I could thoroughly pay back the kindness you guys have shown me, because coming back here wouldn’t have been the same without you. I hope you know that, in spite of my limited presence on the app and the screens separating us, you partook in making my days better sometimes. It’s the little things :)

I can’t promise a quick reply (I often spend days without looking at my texts, especially on discord), but if you ever want to leave a message, then you’re all more than welcome to text me on discord. If you don’t already have it, I’ll gladly give it to you. I still have to decide what to do with this blog, as I’m torn between deactivating or leaving it as an archive, but either way I felt like informing you of my decision before going ahead and just disappearing. I’m about to start a new chapter of my life and closing this one so roughly just didn’t seem right. Thank you for reading and enduring my rambling, it was nice while it lasted!

Ben :)

#ben speaks ☆

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olderthannetfic · 3 years ago

Note

TY for your post on m/m ships, as it really gave me perspective I didn’t know I needed. I assumed or thought that the criticism of women writing (“fetishizing”) m/m came from the queer community itself. The equivalent of a bunch of girls going to a gay bar for a bachelorette party. I didn’t see the exclusionist propaganda behind that train of thought until reading your post. Thanks.

You are most welcome!

My experience has been that the vast, vast majority of cis gay men have no clue about m/m fanfic (which is produced overwhelmingly by women and even more overwhelmingly by AFABs, who contain a lot more than just women).

When cis gay dudes are told about it in a "girls write this stuff" kind of way, they usually respond that women deserve porn too, and isn't that nice. You do you, largely irrelevant person.

Cis gay men are the dominant force in queer media that's not self-published romance novels, indie games, and so on. While I'd never say they have a fair deal as compared to straight men, if you look at queer presses and film festival films such, it's the cis gay men who get the lion's share of the attention, content, and money. I think that's why some rando making even more niche queer content just doesn't bug them much. (On average. Obviously, no group is a monolith.)

To the extent that I've seen complaints, it's generally a few dudes whining in amazon reviews that some romance novel had men crying and not having enough casual sex. Real Men Don't Cry™ yadda yadda.

Only in places like tumblr do I see a ton of pushback from queer men... and it should surprise exactly no one that the queer men in question are often trans, very young, and are getting misgendered pretty badly in their offline lives.

I see the same kind of "I am the queerest one! Only I have a special license to ship!" behavior from nbs and bi women and gnc straight women and basically anyone else who's doing some combo of having a traumatized reaction to their offline life and pulling a Not Like The Other Girls Others. There's a dash of white knighting in the pattern and a dash of people not quite getting that they've found their people. They're not the only one anymore!

(I really cannot emphasize enough how much of this I think is a trauma response where people need to be The Only Valid Man or The Queerest or something because m/m fanfic is their thing that proves their often-contested identity, and they're still carving out a place for themselves in the world. Except then they end up trying to take that space away from others like themselves, and that's not cool.)

The older trans guys I know facepalm over this stuff and are like "Buddy, no."

I mean, there's variety in any demographic. Groups are not a monolith, yadda yadda. But fanfic "fetishizing" discourse does tend to track with being young and having your main queer community contact be online and/or with having a strong strain of radfem in your ideas about queerness and art.

People liken fandom (and BL/danmei pro media) to the bachelorette party thing--through cluelessness or disingenuousness--but the more relevant comparison is probably drag queens.

I really liked David Halperin's academic doorstop How to be Gay where he talks about queens "appropriating" from women (he uses the term more neutrally than we usually do) and how drag can be empowering and meaningful to gay men in its intended context yet still feel sexist, offensive, and alienating to a woman stumbling across it.

He spends a lot of time talking about literal representation vs. art that speaks to your insides instead of your outsides and why a lot of cis gay men still love things like The Golden Girls and various female icons or camp and allegorical media more than art that depicts men like themselves. Interesting stuff.

For free and online stuff, an oft-cited example is this dude, Jamie Fessenden's blog post about women writing "m/m romance" (i.e. indie selfpub romance novels like you see on Amazon, which are the US and a lot of the West's answer to BL/danmei). It's interesting to see this guy's perspective as an older cis gay man. (Well, I assume. Plenty of authors turn out to be liars, but he passes a sniff test, IMO.) I have a couple of points where I disagree with him, but I think he has some solid ideas overall, and he's putting his desire for more media of type X into practice by making said media himself.

Anyway, I do think the criticism often comes from "our own community" (with its many, many meanings). It's just laced with lack of historical perspective at best and ulterior motives at worst.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

hey steph! how long would you say you spent on sorting out fic recs and tagging them and all that stuff? just curious because i really wanna start a fic rec blog too

Hey Nonny!

UGGGHHHH Tumblr deleted my entire response, so I’m going to just jot out what I remember.

Depending upon how long you’re willing to spend, a LONG time. You guys have NO idea how much work it is, and how much off-tumblr time I spend doing it. When I keep saying “it’s a full time job” it really is. The blogging you guys actually see takes about 2 hours, from filing my blog to answering a few asks here and there, but the rest is ALL filing my fics and creating lists.

Now, mine is “perfected to my liking” after two years of trial and error and headaches, but yeah, if you’re serious about becoming strictly a fic rec blog, prepare to put in a lot of time and effort. BUT to be fair, I’m ridiculous in my sorting and organizing... I have a weird OCD thing where I need stuff sorted in a certain way, and it takes longer than it probably should. But it works for me and it has become very streamlined now that almost all of my Ao3 bookmarks are finally sorted. In the beginning, when I decided I would start reccing fics, it was only meant to be a here and there thing, but then people kept coming to me more and more and that’s when I decided I needed to keep an offline list. So here’s some tips from me to you:

Keep offline lists. Tumblr fucks up enough that you WILL lose interest in redoing a big 50-fic list if tumblr decides that nope, today I don’t feel like posting your file because you didn’t refresh your page BEFORE typing it out.

Going along with the above, keep an offline masterlist of your read-and-tagged fics. All the recs I give you guys? They’re all on one of three list masterlists I have offline: GO Recs, FFNet Recs, and Ao3 Recs. This will be SO much easier for searching for topics when making new lists.

Do the lists WAY ahead of time. This has given me back many-a-Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights because I prep my lists ahead of time.

Develop the “public” system of filing for your things, and use that for your Masterlist, so you don’t have to redo it every time (so like don’t have just Ficname by author if that’s not what you want to do for your recs). For example, my system is this, emphasis included: Fic Name by Author (Rating, wordcount, Chapter count || WIP/AU if applicable || PODFIC LINK if applicable || list of personal and/or author tags here, even if they spoil the story; i’ve found some people with triggers appreciate that I tag EVERYTHING I find in the stories) – Author’s description or personal description if there isn’t one. Series link if it’s part of one. This way, all I have to do is copy-paste it into new documents for each list, and then copy-paste the whole list into the Tumblr doc.

Also, re: the above, do the layout in Tumblr if you’re doing a Tumblr rec blog. It keeps the formatting consistent and I don’t have to fix it between Ao3 and FFnet if I just copy-paste everything into a blank Tumblr doc, and then copy paste THAT onto the masterlist. Trust me on this one.

Draft everything. This goes along with all the above. I always “start” a list and put a big header so that I can find it in my drafts (that’s why they have the big bold H1 headers on them) and then hit “draft”. Then keep a list of your drafted fics in your preferred method of organization. I keep everything in Text Edit RTF files. I believe Alexx told me once she did spreadsheets. Either way, develop a system BEFORE jumping into this thing, because you will EASILY get overwhelmed if you aren’t used to high-stress levels.

Tag fics as you read them. Trust me on this one. Because it will save you MONTHS of re-reading every single bookmark so you can properly file fics. I do this on my Notes App with the story title, and then all the tags I know are popular requests or are for lists I know Nonnies have asked for.

Keep CONSISTENT in your tags. Don’t tag one thing O!verse but another Omegaverse. I had to redo a lot of my older tags because CMD+F was pointless on a document I purposely made to streamline the process.

USE Ao3′s TAGGING FEATURE for your bookmarks. Just make sure that if any of your tags are spoilerific, make sure you keep the rec private.

File EVERYTHING as soon as you bookmark it. It will save you a LOT of hours of going through all your recent bookmarks to file them.

That said, HAVE A FILING SYSTEM if you’re keeping everything offline. Keep separate documents for each list... Trust me on this. I used to just have one document each for Fluff fics, for example, and put subheaders in them, and it just got messy and annoying as my fic reccing became more common and plentiful. Instead, have a nice list like this, for instance:

The grey dots next to some of them are old filing methods that I need to fix and pull out. Also, as you can see, every time I finish a list, I file it into Posted and start a new list appended with a Pt number. It just keeps the system moving smoothly. I also have a system for the coloured dots; Grey is Old and refile, Orange is drafted on Tumblr, and Orange and Green means it’s drafted and ready-to-post.

I also have an offline “drafted posts document”:

That also has a system as you can see, but it keeps me knowing what I’ve already got drafted on Tumblr if I forget to tag the files with the colour dots.

It looks tedious and complicated, but I promise you, it’s really simple once you’re familiar with my method. Which is why I’m saying, you need to develop this kind of system REALLY early rather than 2 years later like I did. This drafted posts list is only recent as of... February I believe is when I started it.

Hmmm. Ah, yeah, so you can see it’s a lot of work, and this is why I absolutely dislike HateAnons negatively criticizing my lists, because it IS a lot of MY free time, between 8 and 48 hours a week. But if you truly enjoy sorting and organizing like I do, it’s a bit easier to cope with. So, yeah, whenever I tell you guys “I need some time away” this is why, and usually I switch to playing video games or doing art, both of which I miss doing on the weekends. I’m trying to keep the Tumblr stuff to mostly Weeknights these days, so that it’s an extension of my day job. Funny how I have less free time working at home than I did when I wasn’t; because I feel obligated to always be on my computer now, and I hate that. Like right now, I just bought 2 new games to play and I haven’t tried them yet because I’m always working both day-job stuff AND Tumblr stuff on weekends.

So yes, that’s another tip: Don’t let it consume you, and set a schedule. Don’t feel obligated to answer every request. When I am tired and I just genuinely don’t have the energy to dig through 1000+ fics to find 2 or three for an obscure ask, I usually make it an interactive ask – not only does it encourage community involvement and a sense of belonging for everyone, but I also discover new fics to read too! I am IMMENSELY proud and happy that my fic lists have essentially become “fic exchange” grounds. Before it was only on one or two lists, some timid new authors added their fics to my big lists, but now, since people SEE that I add their fics hidden in the notes to the main post, now everyone is happy to share their faves on the main lists AS WELL AS the smaller single asks. I like to think of myself of a “curator of happy things” so that’s what I like to do with these.

That said, you have to also decide if you’re going to be this interactive as well. Because that adds an ADDITIONAL hour or so as you make a separate “MFL” document and file those too. It’s time consuming, but totally worth it because if I’ve read the fic, all I have to do to that post in my MFL list is add my tags and file that block of text :)

I hope I helped you out a bit, Nonny, and I hope you guys enjoyed seeing a bit of my process. If I can get OBS to work on my laptop, maybe I’ll do a short video so you guys can see me doing it live.

Anyway, sorry this got long. :P

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #about me #my blog #tutorials #my advice

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years ago

Text

Georgia Anne Muldrow Interview: Rhythm Is A Form of Gravity

Photo by Antoinette A. Brock

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“The people keep you fresh. They keep you on your toes,” Georgia Anne Muldrow told me over the phone last month. The prolific L.A. musician, whose output ranges from experimental hip-hop to neo soul to jazz and everything in between, is releasing her fifth record in four years on Friday, and the third overall in her beats series. VWETO III (FORESEEN + Epistrophik Peach Sound) follows last year’s Mama, You Can Bet! (released under the name Jyoti), 2019′s collaboration with Dudley Perkins and VWETO II, and 2018′s acclaimed, Grammy-nominated Overload. Unlike any of the previous albums, it was put together with some “calls to action” in mind.

Thought some of the songs were around for longer, VWETO III as an entity was made last year, “over a course of time where things were changing in terms of different recording techniques I was trying,” said Muldrow, harking back to techniques and inspirations from her early years of music making. The record was also, obviously, formed during a global pandemic that caused folks to lock down, and Muldrow is conscious to giving listeners opportunities to reach out on her very active Instagram account. Each of the album’s singles have been paired with those aforementioned calls to action. “Unforgettable”, which combines 80′s-sounding synths with 90′s G-funk, calls for vocalists to submit performances to go along with Muldrow’s vocals on the song. “Mufaro’s Garden”, inspired by an illustrated folktale book called Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters, asks for visual artist submissions. On the day of the album’s release, Muldrow will ask for dance submissions to “Slow Drag”, a throwback Hammond-guitar-piano ditty named after the juke joint dance of the same name. Next month, it’ll be “Action Groove”, with calls for turntable scratch ‘n’ sampling remixes from DJs. And it’s not just the singles that exemplify Muldrow’s desire to connect with listeners on a granular level. Many of the songs on VWETO III refer to or are inspired by specific eras, from the Afrofuturist jazz of “Afro AF” to the genre tribute “Boom Bap Is My Homegirl”. That the titles are clearly referential, too, like “Old Jack Swing” or “Synthmania Rock”, shows that Muldrow’s not winking and nodding or trying to fool us, earnestly inviting us to dive in.

Moreover, VWETO III is coinciding with what Muldrow’s calling the Teacherie, classes she’s trying to develop to spread knowledge of what she’s learned throughout her own career, everything from philosophy to instrumental-specific classes. Right now, from her saved Instagram story called “Teacherie!,” you can take an assessment to fill out what you’re interested in. “It helps me to see what skill levels people have and what they want to learn in the class,” Muldrow said. “I seek to continue to stay open enough to make relevant music and have relevant things to share with people.” Overall, Muldrow is the type of artist that uses online platforms the way they’d be used in an ideal world. Her use of NFTs, too, is noble; the album art by Cape Town-based Breeze Yoko is being auctioned off, with 50% of proceeds going to prison abolitionist organization Critical Resistance. Even when the offline world returns--Muldrow’s slated to play Pitchfork Music Festival on Saturday, September 11th--Muldrow’s created a blueprint for navigating an increasingly isolating digital world, by seeking out real connections.

Below, read my conversation with Muldrow, edited for length and clarity, as she discusses making the record, being inspired by African rhythms, the influence of Digital Underground, and why her work logically extends into prison abolition. You can also catch her tomorrow on Bandcamp Live at 8 PM CST.

Since I Left You: Why did you decide this was a good time to revisit your beats album series?

Georgia Anne Muldrow: The people love it, you know? I always like to post beats on Instagram and share my poetry or state of mind of what’s going on in the world according to my people, and provide a place of joy and uplift. The voice of the people kind of determined what songs were on there. There are some songs that nobody’s ever heard. Different ideas, something a little bit more energized.

Something for the people. It’s really great that I have direct contact with them. Some of the songs are things I like to try based on the vibes I get from their feedback. It’s great; it’s a beautiful thing for me. I’ve gone through phases where critics love me, but the voice of the people that really support your work is really cool to hear. It’s like a little focus group. I just like sharing my music with folks because it’s my way of contributing love energy to the world in a direct, immediate way.

SILY: A lot of folks are still staying home and needing that connection. You’re connecting with them but also providing a platform for them to connect with each other.

GAM: Yes. I’m way into that and seek to be expanding that in an even more literal sense with my classroom project [Teacherie], like a live webinar sort of thing, that enables folks to speak amongst themselves. A more extended form of what I do on social media. An intimate look at what’s really going on in music. They can see where my emotions end and the music begins and try to make things seamless within their own music. Teach what I’ve picked up along the way, because I won’t be here forever. Spreading the love but the knowledge, too, with the music that I share. There’s a certain quality that you can achieve if you have patience.

SILY: Did you always know you wanted to do these calls for action, like for vocalists on “Unforgettable”? And how did you decide which tracks you wanted to do them for?

GAM: It’s definitely my way of trying to promote some sort of hip hop jam in lieu of the isolation that folks are weathering...I’m really inspired by the early age of hip hop where everyone had different dances. They brought their art books to the hip hop jams. The jackets with the art on it, the MCs rapping. The breakdancing, the DJs. All of the different things in place for it to be complete. That’s part of what got me hooked on production. One night years ago, [when I first played] my stuff, and folks started to dance, it got me hooked--to make somebody move. Somebody can rap over this, somebody can dance to this or draw to this. That’s the reason for the calls to action. Opening up a hip hop jam all over the world. I hope it gains some momentum. That would be nice, for more people to put themselves out there. But I do understand we live in different times right now and people are trying to get by. I still have to post some of the artists from “Mufaro’s Garden” and these rap videos from “Unforgettable”.

SILY: You’re giving people an opportunity, even if they’re just trying to get through the day, to take a break or have a beneficial creative exercise.

GAM: Yeah. Being creative together, and togetherness. The thinking that the songs aren’t complete without dance. Lyrics are a certain kind of fulfillment of music. But the movement of the body is another one. [It] goes back to gravity. Drummers harness the power of gravity and manipulate it so things can fall at a certain time. Same thing with dance--[dancers] don’t manipulate gravity, but interact with it and create an interdependence with it. When somebody’s dancing, they come back down to the ground, and you could let that go and let gravity guide what your dance looks like. Rhythm is a form of gravity--a form of gravity engaging with life. I feel like movement is the fulfillment of all the arts. I just seek to do my part.

SILY: You mentioned being inspired by a specific early era in hip hop, and there’s a lot on here inspired by genre or era-specific trends, like the G-funk in “Unforgettable” and “Boom Bap Is My Homegirl”.

GAM: [Boom bap] is one of the things that I specialize in. It’s a home base for me. In my experience, it’s a very African point of access. A lot of the boom bap rhythms are straight from Africa. Most of them are. Off the shores of West Africa. I heard so many of them, from The Gambia, Senegal, Mali. Over there, you hear so much of it. I want to be part of that. At the same time, I might wake up and make a free jazz record. I don’t feel like a traditionalist; I just want to preserve the culture of Black music from this hemisphere. I love traditional ideas, but it’s not like I’m gonna do this one idea for the sake of staying in a lane. There’s no place that Black music hasn’t influenced, molded, shaped, nurtured.

SILY: When was the last time you were able to perform in Africa?

GAM: I believe it might have been 2017. These years have started to run together. I don’t mind it, though. Keeps me young. [laughs]

VWETO III cover art by Breeze Yoko

SILY: How did the songs on here with vocals come together, whether the ones with your singing or the ones with featured artists? Did the words or beats/melodies come first?

GAM: The beats came first except for “Shana’s Back”. Shana Jensen is my sister; she’s the mother of my niece. Every time she’d come over and I had an idea to compose songs around her, they’d end up being huge songs. She’d be like, “Bye!” [laughs] I guess she wanted something a little more understated. I’d always end up doing big Motown sounds. There’s a song on The Blackhouse called “Shana’s Groove”. It’s a like a reoccurring situation and character. It’s kind of funny at this point.

The other ones, like “Unforgettable”, I’m very much matching the vibe, the punk-funk aesthetic. Sometimes a little hook just pushes it over the edge and gets them into the mindset I was in when thinking about it. Other songs like “Love Call” I just wanted to sound like it was in an arena. Arena rock, funk, Digital Underground-inspired, all the way.

SILY: Are you a big Digital Underground fan?

GAM: I think it shows in a lot of the music I make. I don’t think I can hide it. This record has so many examples of that. I love Shock G so much. He was so bad, as a thinker, a philosopher, a community builder, artist, pianist, maestro. The “Love Call” groove, “Unforgettable”, “[Old] Jack Swing”, you can hear it. I was raised with that kind of music in my head as a child. Unashamed to be funky and make a groove have extra grease on it. That’s what distinguished our sound from other region’s sounds. Getting greasy. While still doing the boom bap and all that other stuff. For me, it was always a goal to represent where I’m from in my music in a non-traditional way. Bringing what I love about the West Coast to whatever I was working on.

Shock G lives in all of us. He brought so many different vibes. A rhythmic pocket that breathes. Somewhat right under "Atomic Dog”. It keeps you moving. It has a breath of life in it. I’m so thankful to have lived in an era where I could hear and experience his work.

SILY: How did “Ayun Vegas” come together?

GAM: Ayun is my little brother. I think I’ve known him since 2014 or ‘15. He’s quite a talent. I love his style. He’s from [New] Jersey. I love his sense of rhythmic dynamic. His use of metaphor, double entendre. I feel like he’s really a gifted poet. He can do all types of different things. He’s an amazing MC--he just released a project with Jacob Rochester called Slaps & Hugs. I’m gonna lean towards people who are creative themselves and insert themselves into everything they do.

Ayun is very secure in being different. He came out to Vegas, and I had this song. Usually, when I play leftfield stuff, MCs want that beat they can crush and not feel challenged by. This song is really old. I feel like it was made in 2016. I feel like that was the first time when somebody was willing to rap on an idea that was out of the ordinary. It’s not just in your face. It’s something different, but I want you to rap for your life on this. Something more like a movie score, where you find your character. He did it! He didn’t leave one beat behind.

He’s rhythmically gifted and quite the poet. He almost went into pro football but he chose music. He’s a very enterprising brother, doing all types of apparel. He was working in the visual artist community, in the videographer community. Any time I can showcase what it is that he got to share, I’m there. He’s not afraid to speak the truth. This verse is impressionistic. It’s like somebody is taking a really big brush and making a beautiful image, strong-arming it. It’s dope. I love it.

We did another song together on the Overload album, but it didn’t make the cut. The Japanese version of Overload has a song called “What Can We Do Now”, and it has Ambrose Akinmusire, Ayun, and me. I’d love for that to be heard stateside, because it’s definitely about what’s happening over here.

SILY: Why did you choose to have the proceeds for this record go to Critical Resistance?

GAM: I’ve always wanted my music to be a tool for the motion of people. It doesn’t stop with dance and rapping and singing and drawing. It begins with that. Where it ends up, the movement of people coming into their powers, truths that in order to have a more humane society, we are going to have to throw some of this bullshit away. The spoils of enslavement. We’ve got to get rid of those spoils so we can get to a more realistic place of folks being cognizant of the activities that they take a part in. Jails ain’t gonna help people feel like they’re part of the community. They cage people and endanger their lives and run the risk of ruining somebody’s mental, emotional, and spiritual state even if they did commit the crime they’re in there for.

There’s a sense that all crime is committed from a place of fear. Many crimes people are locked up for is just folks trying to find a way. I don’t see how more fear is going to rehabilitate. The idea that punishment leads to enlightenment. People in the public school system are taught about some of the baddest people that ever lived--mass murders. But they’re not the type of people held accountable. They’re who brought over the imprisonment systems from their failed nations.

I don’t believe in reform at all. Critical Resistance seeks to abolish prisons as we know them. I love that their resolve is so sure and bold.

Photo by Antoinette A. Brock

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heartofether · 3 years ago

Text

Bonus Episode #4 - Irene's Inauguration TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Please state your message.

[INTRO MUSIC PLAYS FOR SOME TIME BEFORE FADING OUT.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. THE BREAK ROOM, MIDDAY, AROUND LUNCH.]

[IRENE IS SITTING DOWN AT THE TABLE, WHILE ADEN IS LEANING OVER HER SHOULDER. THERE ARE VARIOUS OFFICE AMBIANCE NOISES HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.]

IRENE

I don’t think I need your help setting it up, you know. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to use an app.

ADEN

Sorry, sorry, I’m just—excited, you know? It feels like you’re about to take a big step, and I get to be the one to watch it happen.

IRENE

[SHE SCOFFS.] As if this is a major life milestone.

ADEN

Hey, I think it is! In a way. You know? It’s not common for someone your age to not be active on social media—

IRENE

Hey.

ADEN

Not that that’s a bad thing! You’re like, joining the masses though. It’s like an inauguration.

IRENE

Yeah, sure. Whatever.

ADEN

And, I’d also like to witness the outcome of my months of pestering you.

IRENE

Hey! I kept saying I was going to—

ADEN

So have you come up with a username yet?

IRENE

Um, not really? I’m guessing just irenegray is taken.

ADEN

Mmmm, probably. If it helps at all, I added a word to my username that I thought sounded nice. Kind of like, something cool and aesthetic, you know?

IRENE

See, that’s part of the problem. You actively have an aesthetic you’re trying to maintain. I’m just kind of, you know. [SHE VAGUELY MOTIONS.]

ADEN

Hey, I think that’s great that you're authentically yourself and you don’t adhere to any restrictive subcultures.

IRENE

If you wanna call it that… honestly though I just hadn’t thought about it. I mean, you know I’m mostly doing this for you, right?

ADEN

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just pick a word you like and pair it with your name to see if it sounds nice! Maybe, like, an adjective?

IRENE

Hm. [SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN] I kind of like the idea of it being something forest-themed.

ADEN

That would be cute! What if you did, like, the name of a tree? [BEAT] Ooh! You could do something like cedarirene, as in red cedars, you like those, right?

IRENE

[THINKING] I kind of like that, they’re pretty… [beat]

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS AT HIS OWN JOKE] Or you could do, like, irenefir, as in Douglas-fir? Those are pretty common in this part of the states.

IRENE

[SHE CHUCKLES, THEN, HUMS IN THOUGHT.] Yeah, I’m not sure I’m going for the Christmas tree route today.

ADEN

Hey, if you end up deciding you don’t like it, you can always change it later.

IRENE

That’s a good point. [BEAT] But I think cedarirene is good.

ADEN

I like it, too.

[A PAUSE AS SHE TYPES.]

ADEN

Then just add your email and password—don’t worry, I’ll look away for this part… [KEEPS TRAILING ON AS AN AFTERTHOUGHT WHILE IRENE TYPES] Even though I’m fairly certain it’s the same login info you use for everything… which you should really work on by the way, you know that really isn’t the most secure—

[MORE PHONE TYPING.]

IRENE

Got it.

ADEN

Then you’re done!

[A BEAT.]

IRENE

What do I do now?

ADEN

Now, you get to customize your profile. You know, add your name, your bio, a profile picture—oh, actually hold on, give me your phone real quick.

IRENE

Why?

ADEN

I want you to follow me! Here, just let me search for my username.

IRENE

[SHE CHUCKLES.] Sure. Go wild.

[ADEN IS HEARD TYPING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

ADEN

…and done. Oh, actually, while I’m here, I should have you follow Carol and Julia. [HE STARTS TYPING THEIR USERNAMES IN.]

IRENE

[IN SHOCK] Carol has Instagram?

ADEN

Uh, yeah.[beat] You seriously don’t understand just how behind you are, do you?

IRENE

[SHE GAPES IN FAUX-OFFENSE] You act like I’m withering away into a pile of dust just for not using social media.

ADEN

[GIGGLING] I’m kidding, Irene! I know lots of reasons why someone may want to go off the grid. I mean, social media can be kind of, er…

IRENE

A cruel and unjust place full of corporate marketing and unattainable standards?

ADEN

Yeah. Also, it can be kind of addicting for some people. So just, I mean I doubt you’ll have that problem since you don’t really seem to care, but just—be careful.

IRENE

Don’t worry, I doubt I’ll even use it that much.

ADEN

You better at least open the app every now and then. I want to send you stuff.

IRENE

[SHE LAUGHS.] I’ll keep notifications on for you, bud… If nothing else.

ADEN

Right, so, back to your profile. I’ll let you do whatever you want for this part. Oh, you should put your pronouns in your bio, though.

IRENE

Got it. [A PAUSE, THEN] Uh, what else should I put?

ADEN

Anything you want, really. Some people like to put their age, their job, sexuality, a fun fact about themselves.

IRENE

I mean, I don’t really want to share my entire personal life with the internet.

ADEN

Then don’t. Just put some totally random fun fact.

IRENE

Hm. Okay.

[A PAUSE AS IRENE TYPES.]

ADEN

Is that… did you actually drink three cups of coffee in less than one hour before?

IRENE

It was finals season.

ADEN

[CONCERNED] I can only drink one cup, and that still makes me shaky. Were you okay?

IRENE

Gonna be totally honest, I don’t remember a damn thing from those twenty-four hours.

[THERE’S A BRIEF PAUSE BEFORE THEY BOTH LAUGH FOR A FEW SECONDS.]

ADEN

[THROUGH FADING LAUGHTER] Okay, okay. Now you just need to set a profile pic.

IRENE

I mean, I don’t really take selfies ever.

ADEN

It doesn’t have to be a photo of your face. Do you have any pets?

IRENE

Not unless my dead betta fish from three years ago counts.

ADEN

Hm, okay. Some people just make it a color they like, or if you just have a nice photo in your camera roll you want to use, you could do that. Some people use characters they like, art pieces, pictures of buildings, yada, yada, yada. Just pick something.

IRENE

Where do you get all of your info about Instagram accounts, anyways?

ADEN

Oh, it was actually my minor in college. “Aesthetically Pleasing Profiles 101.”

[THEY BOTH LAUGH.]

ADEN

I’m joking, of course. It’s just…I don’t know, the internet was kind of a safe space for me for a while? When I first moved to Daughtler, I didn’t have many friends, and my constant state of anxiety was far from helpful. Online, I could be myself and find people with similar interests way easier than I could around town, without ever having to worry about my weird real-life mannerisms that might drive people away.

IRENE

[SINCERE] That makes a lot of sense. It’s good to have support like that. I, uh, probably could have used something like that in college, honestly. I just got kind of used to isolating myself after a while, I guess. [A BEAT.] Though, if it helps at all, I think you’re pretty cool offline, too.

ADEN

Thanks, Irene. [A BEAT.] So, about your profile pic.

IRENE

Do you think Carol would mind if I made it a picture of Mothman?

ADEN

I— [HE GIGGLES.] You know what? I think she’d think it’s cute. Do it.

[IRENE GIGGLES. SHE SETS THE PROFILE PIC.]

ADEN

Welcome to the digital world, Irene Gray.

IRENE

Please, I’m not a grandpa. I know how the internet works.

ADEN

I know, I know. I’m excited to see what you post, though.

IRENE

[THINKING] I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. I guess we’ll find out… if I remember to.

ADEN

Don’t think about it too hard, alright? Just be your authentic self.

IRENE

I’ll certainly try my best.

[PHONE BEEP.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Love is a leash that goes both ways."

Becca De La Rosa in Mabel, Episode 36, 2019.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

#heart of ether transcripts

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bondsmagii · 4 years ago

Note

5,15,20,28,38,54,80 👀 (nosy but also bored on a long ass bus trip, pls entertain)

> questions to ask at 4:02am meme 🌕🌃

ahh thank you! please feel free to be nosy I love it 👀

5: Do you have to be related to be family?

absolutely not. in fact in my personal experience I’ve found more success in not being related to a person, lol. there’s precisely one member of my family who I’m proud to be related to and who I love in the expected way you’re supposed to love family -- the rest of my blood relatives are, to put it as gently and diplomatically as possible, dead to me.

as well as friends (both online and offline) who I consider my family, I’m not ashamed to say that there’s a lot of fictional characters in there, too. before the internet was a big thing, before I had the close friends I have now, I always had books and I always had my imagination. I didn’t have anyone else growing up, so the characters I loved provided the blueprints for how to be a person. even now, I’ve learned more about myself through books than any conversation I’ve ever had with any of the adults or the people who were supposed to be my guidance, and my friends and my partner have done more for me in one year than my entire family did from birth to age 18, when I left them all behind.

absolutely you do not need to be related to be family, and I’m of the opinion that a lot of people could meet their parents on the street as strangers and probably not think much of them.

15: Do you think you’re special, or just another person amongst billions? Can you be both?

I’m very special and I’m also super sexy. like. in all seriousness, I don’t mean this in a conceited way but I really do hold the belief that I’m special but also that I am just another person. this is something I think about everyone, though. no two people are the same, and every single person has an entire world in their head. we can’t even comprehend the depths of someone else’s collective experience and thoughts; it’s absolutely fascinating to know that everyone you pass by, glimpse, meet... everyone has that kind of entire universe in there. even if we picked one single person and studied them for our entire lives, we would never, ever get to the bottom of them. I think that’s brilliant, and it certainly makes everyone special in their own way.

at the same time, humans all have enough in common that we are a collective in some respects. I think it’s important to remember those things you have in common with humanity as a whole, and just because you are unique doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk, basically. personally for me it makes me want to share things with people and hear what they think in return; it makes me want to exchange ideas and give people things to think about. I don’t have any desire to blend in, but I also don’t see myself as inherently better than anyone else, if that makes sense. I don’t know -- some people seem to view a person wanting to define themselves as different or unique in some way as the person being arrogant or an attention seeker or whatever, but that’s not why I draw attention to these things. I draw attention to my differences because I think they’re cool and I think it’s very awesome and sexy of me. I’m not saying that makes me better than anyone; in fact the opposite. I’m really hoping you’ll share some stuff that makes you cool and sexy too.

20: Do you want a grand adventure?

fuck yeah I want a grand adventure

I’m very lucky to have already had a few grand adventures in my time -- the road trip I went on in 2013, for example, and I suppose growing up in the North of Ireland was an adventure in itself (albeit a very different kind of one) -- but I am always looking for more adventures. this doesn’t have to necessarily be a physical trip, either -- I love to learn new things, I love to teach myself new skills, I love to sneak into abandoned buildings to rummage through what’s left, I love to fuck around and find out, baby! I’m always looking for adventures. I’m always trying new things, or stopping randomly in the car to check out something cool I saw, or embarking on new projects. I’m of the firm believe that with the right attitude and some decent nosiness, you can turn pretty much everything into an adventure.

28: Would you want to live forever? How about for a billion years, a million, a millennium, a century?

I already have this planned out. immortality, but with the following conditions:

I remain in perfect health;

I can regenerate quickly from any serious injury inflicted on me;

in strenuous circumstances (such as trapped in a place where escape is impossible) I can teleport the fuck outta there;

some supernatural ability allows me to constantly remake my identity as needed with no issue;

if I do so with clear, informed intent, and the universe knows I Mean It™, I can kill myself.

this last one is to avoid floating around after the heat death of the universe, or any other situation where life is genuinely unbearable. got to have an out, you know?

anyway, with these conditions met, I would absolutely want to live for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. there’s not enough time to learn everything I want to learn, and I have so many books to read. I’m only 587 years old, you know? that’s no time at all.

38: Is your life what you expected it would be five years ago?

answered!

54: Can human really understand the complete nature of the universe, space and time?

god, no way. I would love to go off all intelligently on this question but like... just no. I don’t think there’s an argument for this at all, because everything is just far too complex. we can’t even understand the complete nature of our own planet, or our own species -- or even ourselves. I mean, not to get too deep, but who actually understands the complete nature of their own mind? I don’t think that’s even possible, so to be able to understand not just the universe, but space and time as well? come on. we fucked up so much that we have to slap an extra day on the year every four years to keep things adding up. twice a year the clocks jump forward or backwards. we haven’t even decided on a universal calendar. understand the complete nature of the universe, space, and time? please. let’s agree on a universal system of measurement first.

80: Is your music organised by mood or sensation or do you just listen to everything at any time?

I hit shuffle and let chaos reign, baby!

if I’m feeling a certain mood there’s usually a particular song that I’m thinking of, so I might listen to that on repeat for a couple of hundred times or some other totally normal number. I do also have a sort of unofficial Night Driving Playlist, because driving around for a few hours in the middle of the night is a way I like to unwind, especially in the winter when it’s too cold to wander around on a walk (and especially so now, with all the quarantine nonsense). I’m thinking about making it an Official Playlist like I had on my old music player, but at the moment I’ll kind of just have Vestris swap until we find one that matches the aesthetic 😂

generally, though, I’ll just pick a song and let shuffle play. I have a very impeccable and righteous taste in music and sometimes it’s nice to just let the emotional whiplash play out. you cannot beat hearing Numb -- Linkin Park -- 80s Remix followed by The Night We Met followed by Dancing Queen followed by Come Out Ye Black and Tans. absolutely unrivalled. unparalleled.

#4:02am meme #long post #about me #filippa-kosta #asks

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nekojitachan · 5 years ago

Text

How to Steal a Million (part 4?)

I think it’s part 4. We’re going with part 4

Find previous part here

This is really along the ratings of ‘T’. Mentions of forgery, stealing, threats of bodily harm (it IS Neil and Andrew, after all) but nothing serious. Lots of snark.

*******

Neil pressed against one of the doorways which led into the main gallery of the Kleber-Lafayette Museum, where the Cellini Venus was currently on display; he’d heard so much talk about it at the party he’d attended with Allison that he couldn’t resist coming to see the exhibit. After a minute of surveilling the room (checking the exits, any signs of cameras, the position of the guards, etc.) he stepped away the room… only to bump into someone a moment later due to the crowd of people.

Only to bump into L.A.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Neil hissed as he recoiled in surprise (and forced himself not to pull a knife).

“Huh, funny how we only meet under the most ‘artistic’ of circumstances’,” L.A. remarked as he gestured to the artworks hung on the walls around them, his deep voice sarcastic yet expression impassive; he was dressed in black pants and a black dress shirt which actually looked expensive and showed off his muscular build.

“Funny how I always feel the urge to stab you when we meet,” Neil muttered as he smoothed down the front of his dark blue jumper; Allison had dressed him before he’d left her house that day, so at least he appeared presentable.

Why did he suddenly care if he appeared presentable?

There was the tiniest twitch to the left corner of L.A’s mouth before he stepped forward. “You might want to look into that.” While Neil glared at the asshole’s back, the American nodded toward the crowd. “Lot of people here to see your statue, seems it’s famous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Neil accused the man as he reconsidered the whole ‘no stabbing’ thing.

L.A. held up his hands and shook his head. “I’m off duty at the moment. What about you?”

Before Neil could question why the asshole had asked that, someone called out his name; he turned with a fake smile and nodded to Aldritch, who held out his hand to be shook.

“I’m fine, how are you?” he asked in return, then motioned to L.A. “Uhm, Monsieur Aldritch, the director of the museum and….” Well, he couldn’t exactly say ‘Larcenous Asshole, semi-decent thief’, could he?

“Minyard,” L.A. said without missing a beat as he gave Aldritch’s extended hand a very brief shake. “Josten and I are old friends, we used to spar together.” He leaned in as if to share a secret. “I usually won,” he said in a mock whisper.

While Neil glared at the asshole and Aldritch chuckled, L.A. continued. “Beautiful exhibit you have here, lots of valuable things.”

“Oh yes,” Aldritch agreed as he turned to Neil. “Please notice all of the security precautions we’ve taken with your family’s statue.” Then he turned back to L.A., who somehow managed a semi-interested expression on his usually impassive face. “Are you interested in art, Mr. Minyard?” When L.A. nodded, Aldritch smiled. “And are you interested in security?” the middle-aged man asked.

“Oh yes, very much so,” Minyard assured him while Neil wondered if there was a suitable place to hide the asshole’s body (after it was perforated to his heart’s content).

“Wonderful, let me show the two of you around.” Aldritch didn’t wait for their agreement before he walked away; since L.A. followed, Neil gritted his teeth together and did the same.

Aldritch headed straight for the Cellini Venus; L.A. made a mocking bow then held out his left arm in a clear sign for Neil to take it. At first he was about to ignore it, then Neil ‘smiled’ and accepted it, just so he could ram his elbow into the bastard’s ribs.

L.A. stumbled but otherwise remained on his feet and didn’t make a sound, but gave Neil a narrow look as they reached the pedestal which housed the Cellini Venus. Aldritch, oblivious to what had just happened, smiled at them and motioned to the blue lights which circled the base of the pedestal. “These are infrared beams which surround the Venus.” When L.A., acting like a proper idiot, went to touch the Venus, Aldritch gasped and swatted at his hand. “No, don’t touch it! That will trigger an alarm if the beams are broken, it’s an E.E.D.A. system.”

“That’s so impressive.” L.A. somehow managed to put a little emotion in his voice while Neil fought not to roll his eyes over what was really a common security protocol. “What happens if a thief somehow manages to turn off the system?”

“No, not possible,” Aldritch insisted with a slight frown. “There’s guards here all the time, and only myself and two other people can disable the system. We have back-up generators in case there’s a power outage, and it’s offline to prevent anyone from hacking into it.”

“Amazing,” L.A. drawled. “You’ve truly thought of everything.”

“Yes, I feel that my family’s statue is in perfectly safe hands,” Neil said with a slight inclination of his head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve an appointment I can’t be late for.”

“Oh, of course! I’m pleased you were able to stop by.” Aldritch wished him well, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when L.A. followed him out of the museum.

“Look, stay the hell away from this place or I’ll report you to the cops, whoever you are,” he insisted as he went over to where he’d parked the MG. “Go find something else to ‘liberate’.”

“Minyard, Andrew Minyard,” L.A. said with an offending sniff. “It’s like you don’t trust me or something.”

“Might have something to do with you breaking into my house,” Neil muttered as he climbed into the MG.

“That was us meeting cute.”

Neil stared at the insane American for a couple seconds before he shook his head. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Despite Andrew’s (was that his real name?) curious tone, there was a hint of wariness in his hazel eyes.

“Stand in front of my car,” Neil asked as he motioned at the hood of the MG.

“Why?” Now there definitely was a gleam of wariness in Andrew’s eyes.

“So I can run you over and not have to worry about you bothering me anymore.”

The American radiated disapproval as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “As much as I find this flirting routine somewhat amusing, I need to talk to you about-“

Once Neil heard the ‘f’ word, he started the car’s engine then took off, unfortunately without hitting the asshole.

*******

Andrew collapsed on the bed in Kevin’s hotel room and sighed.

“If you’re about to rant about the coffee again, I don’t want to hear it,” Kevin said as he henpecked at the keyboard, his attention focused on the monitor.

“As if you’re bundle of joy until you get a few shots of espresso in you,” Andrew muttered while he scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands.

“I don’t need ten spoonfuls of sugar and a pint of milk to go along with them,” Kevin argued before he turned to look at Andrew. “Now tell me you did something today other than haunt several bakeries.”

“Fuck you.” Andrew gave his partner the finger as he sat up. “Only two bakeries today, and yes, I did.” When Kevin gave him an expectant look, he rolled his eyes. “I talked to one Bernard Grammont, who is certain that Stuart Josten is a forger though he lacks any concrete proof. Also, I ran into Neil Josten again, who was checking out the display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.” He did his best not to wince as he felt a twinge in his ribs from where the sneaky bastard had hit him. “Didn’t seem to want to run into anyone there, which was rather odd.”

“Hmm, it does seem suspicious, but remember we’re not being paid to prove anything with Josten, at least not yet.”

Grammont would have hired Andrew to investigate Josten… but for some reason he didn’t want to work for the man. Maybe there was something to Renee warning him about the family… or maybe the game he’d started with Neil Josten would be ruined if money was involved.

Whatever the reason, for once Andrew found himself interested in something other than cracking a case or catching a bad guy. The more he interacted with Neil Josten, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about the enigmatic young man with the pale blue eyes and sharp tongue.

He’d most likely be disappointed once he got to the bottom of the mystery, but until then… until then he’d let things play out as a rare break from boredom. What could it cost him? Other than some bruises and a bit of blood loss, that was.

He might want to stop by the nearest pharmacy the next time he was out.

*******

Neil took a sip of the red wine he’d barely drank all night and managed one of his ‘fake’ smiles everyone except those who knew him (a rare few) fell for. “It’s a very nice wine.”

Riko grinned and tapped a finger against the base of his own wine glass. “My family owns the vineyard.”

“Oh really?” Neil managed to look impressed by that declaration, even though he knew very well what all the Moriyamas owned (and that the Hatfords owned a vineyard or two as well). “But it doesn’t have the Moriyama name on it.”

“It’s under one of our subsidiary holdings,” Riko explained, as if he held any real power when it came to the Stone Mountain corporation.

“It’s always good to diversify.” Or so Neil had been told – that’s why Stuart did his art forgery thing, Uncle Will and Henry oversaw the main business, Jamie was expanding into online money laundering and had offered for Neil to help (something he was considering, if he could extract Stuart out of this most recent mess), and Ally… eh, Ally was Ally.

Riko beamed at Neil as if he was a pet which had done a particularly clever trick. “See, you’re different from the others, I can be myself with you and not have to talk about silly stuff.”

No, not really; Riko hadn’t started screaming and throwing a temper tantrum yet, which was his ‘real self’ by all accounts, but Neil merely ‘smiled’ and had another minute sip of the wine (which was so-so) while Riko rambled on (more like bragged) about how rich and powerful his family was. All the while, Neil glanced around to make sure that Matt and Dan were seated on the other side of the room, his ‘back-up’ for the night.

As soon as Riko paused for breath, Neil ‘smiled’ and poured him more wine. “I’ve a feeling that there’s something you’re holding back.” When Riko stared at him in interest, he tilted his head to the side. “Something… something to do with my uncle, perhaps?”

He knew that Riko had bought a painting from Stuart a few years ago, and was renowned for his own collection; the Moriyamas were famous patrons of the arts, and Riko had believed himself to be something of an artist while growing up – him and his foster brother, Kevin Day. From what Stuart had told Neil, Kevin was the one with the real talent, but there had been some sort of accident which had left the young man unable to paint anymore, and Riko had eventually gone to work for his uncle, Tetsuji.

Yet Riko had said nothing to Neil when they’d met at the party the other night, had done his best to flirt with Neil until he’d agreed to a date. That behavior had made Neil suspicious as hell, made him want to figure out what was going on with a scumbag like Riko Moriyama.

Well, and it was always nice to get on Renee’s good side, which would happen if he and Allison could figure out some way to get Riko in trouble while helping out the man’s assistant, Jean Moreau, whom Renee had somehow befriended….

Riko appeared startled for a moment, and then tried some sort of shy act which Neil could see through with ease. “Well… to be honest… yes, there is something I wanted to talk to you about in regard to your uncle – your uncle and his collection.”

Neil managed to retain the mild smile while he braced himself for what might come next, if it had anything to do with Stuart’s ‘little hobby’ or not (had Riko figured out that the Monet he’d bought was a fake?).

“That is, I-“

One of the servers approached the table and gave a short bow. “My apologies, Mr. Moriyama, but there’s an urgent call for you.”

Riko frowned as he patted his right thigh as if to check his phone, which hadn’t rung or vibrated during their meal. “That’s odd, I shouldn’t be interrupted tonight.” He then gave an apologetic smile to Neil. “I’m sorry, but it has to be important if they tracked me down here.”

“That’s okay.” Neil watched him leave before he slumped back into the velvet-covered booth… only to jerk upright when Andrew slid into it a few seconds later. “Oh for fuck’s sake, really?”

The slightest of frowns tugged at the corners of Andrew’s full lips. “Is that any way to greet me after the trouble I went through to arrange a few minutes alone with you?”

Neil’s smile took on a sharp edge. “Well, I can do the usual way when you startle me.” His hand crept toward the butter knife on the table while he spoke.

“I thought you French people weren’t supposed to be so violent,” Andrew said as he leaned away a little.

“You’re certainly living up to Americans being rude cliché, now go away.” Neil made a shooing motion with his napkin. “My, uhm, dinner partner isn’t known for his even temper.”

“Your ‘dinner partner’ is a known psycho. Nice taste in dates there,” Andrew said with blatant disapproval.

“He’s not my date and I’m not interested in the opinion of a barely competent thief, now go away before you need more than a simple bandage,” Neil hissed out.

For some reason, Andrew’s left eyebrow raised the slightest amount. “I’ve something important to tell you, if you’ll stop trying to kill me for five minutes.”

“Where’s the fun in that, and leave before he returns!” As annoying as the American could be, Neil didn’t want to deal with the mess Riko could leave if he returned and found someone sitting at his table with the person he’d asked out for the night.

“I will, if you agree to meet me tomorrow afternoon. Suite 136, the Ritz.”

Andrew showed no sign of leaving, while Neil could see Riko across the room; luckily, Matt had gotten up and currently was running interference. “Fine,” he gritted out, conceding that Andrew had won for the moment with ill grace. “Now go before you really do get stabbed.”

“Tomorrow,” Andrew said before he grabbed Neil’s wineglass, managed to gulp down its contents in a couple seconds then slipped away.

Neil really should stab the bastard, he thought as he fought not to grin.

His amusement vanished when a scowling Riko sat down beside him. “I think it was a prank call, there was nothing but gibberish on the line,” Riko muttered as he pulled out his phone and typed something on it. “I’m going to have someone look into it.”

Neil hoped that Andrew had done a good job of covering his tracks and mumbled something soothing until Riko was finished. “Now where were we… ah yes, your uncle’s collection.” Riko summoned what he probably thought was a friendly smile but was ‘off’ enough to make Neil want to shiver. “I have to admit, I’ve always admired it, especially one piece in particular.”

“And that is?” Neil asked, no longer certain that Riko had realized that he’d bought a fake.

“The Cellini Venus.” Riko’s gaze grew unfocused as he discussed the statue. “There’s something about it, something that haunts me. I admit, I was happy to meet you since I’d hoped you might be able to intervene with your uncle on my behalf since he’s refused all offers to buy the statue before now, but I’m enjoying our time together.”

Ah, that’s what it was – another person enraptured with the Venus. Neil gave him a sympathetic smile and dared a slight pat on the hand. “I understand, it is a true masterpiece and I wish I could offer it to you, but my uncle is adamant about it remaining in the family. If that ever changes, I’ll reach out to you first.” Not that it ever would.

“It was worth a try, wasn’t it? And at least I’ve you as a consolation prize.” Riko grinned as he twisted his hand around to capture Neil’s.

Not quite, but Neil was still for a couple of seconds since he noticed the server returning to the table and used the young man asking if there was anything they needed as an excuse to tug his hand free and order a cup of tea rather than jab the assuming asshole with a fork. That was the signal for Dan to call him soon after the drink arrived so he’d have an excuse to end ‘the date’.

Unfortunately, he had to agree to see Riko again, but he was free of the man’s presence for the night. After thanking Dan and Matt via text and assuring Allison that he was safely on his way home, he ensured that he wasn’t followed to the small mansion he shared with Stuart and Davis, where he gladly collapsed into his own bed.

He wasn’t in the mood to leave his home the next day, but he’d promised Andrew to meet up with him, as well as brunch with Matt and tea with Renee. After lounging around for part of the morning, he finally got up and dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt of Matt’s then went downstairs. Davis shook his head at his appearance and handed him a cup of tea before Neil went into Stuart’s study.

“There you are, interested in some breakfast?” Stuart asked as he motioned to the plates of food set out on the small table.

“I don’t have much time, I’ll eat something at Matt’s,” Neil said as he grabbed a small croissant to hold him over until then. “You’ll be happy to know that you can keep selling your artwork to Riko Moriyama since he has no clue about them being fakes. He asked me out because he was hoping I could get you to sell him the Cellini Venus.”

A predatory grin spread across Stuart’s face. “That’s a relief, he’s terrible at bargaining.”

“He’s terrible at a lot of things,” Neil muttered; during their conversation, the doorbell rang and Davis admitted the guest.

Stuart put aside his own cup of tea to go see who it was and Neil followed; there was an older gentleman dressed in a suit who nodded when Stuart greeted him, then pulled out a notepad to ask him about being the owner of one ‘twenty-nine inch marble statue named Venus by the artist Benevento Cellini’.

“Yes, that’s my statue, on loan to the museum,” Stuart agreed with a hint of suspicion. “What is this about?”

“It’s in regard to the insurance loan,” the man responded as he tapped the thick folder held beneath his left arm.

“What loan? I’ve never insured it since it’s priceless,” Stuart insisted while dread grew inside of Neil, thick and cold and slimy.

“It’s a precaution that the museum has taken for all the pieces in the exhibit,” the man explained, “except somehow your signature was overlooked on the Venus’ document.” He glanced around went over to the nearest table (18th century French) so he could pull it out, the intent clear for Stuart to sign it. “There’s no cost to you, it means that the work of art is covered until it’s returned to your possession in good order.”

Stuart approached the man with his hands clasped behind his back; Neil could tell that his uncle did his best to appear unruffled by this sudden complication. “That’s it? I just have to sign the paper?”

“Yes, and the statue will be fully insured for one million. It’s required of all the items for them to be in the exhibit and really should have been done weeks ago.” The man held out a pen for Stuart to use to sign the document.

It would look odd if Stuart refused and suddenly pulled out the Venus, especially when the exhibit already started. Still, Neil felt that sensation of dread grow as his uncle signed the paper. “Is there anything else? Any other requirements?” he asked as he approached his uncle.

The man nodded as he folded up the signed document. “As part of the insurance verification, the statue will be examined to ensure its authenticity. The company will send someone to do that on Friday, if you’d like to be there when it happens. This should have been explained already.”

Neil could barely nod, the same for Stuart, as the man promised to send them details before he left and apologized for the confusion. As soon as the door closed behind him, Stuart started to curse up a storm while Neil slumped against the wall.

“I can’t believe this, they told me nothing about authenticating it! How dare they not trust me!” Stuart ranted once he stopped cursing.

It was on the tip of Neil’s tongue to say ‘I told you so’, but how would that help the situation? Instead, he went back for his unfinished cup of tea then put on his shoes so he could leave.

“Where are you going at a time like this? We need to figure something out, to come up with a plan!” Stuart called out from the salon, where he was busy pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“I have,” Neil said as he stood up. “I’m going to steal the damn thing back.”

*******

#nekojitachanfics #mumbling into the void #how to steal a million fic #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #stuart hatford #andreil #aftg au #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #riko moriyama #more snark #kevin day

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