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peachscribe · 3 years

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peach’s summer book list

i had a lot of fun compiling the list of books i read during the 20-21 winter, so i decided i would do a summer one as well! i still have a lot of books i own but haven’t read, so im definitely not lacking in material

if you didn’t see my winter list, how my book list works is basically like this: i read a book that i own but have not previously read, write a short summary immediately after finishing the book, write down my thoughts on the book, and then provide a rating for the book. i also might include background info on why i read this particular book/feelings about the author, but that depends on the book. that’s how each entry works

without further ado, let’s get started!

1. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

okay so i absolutely adore another book by andrew smith (written after grasshopper jungle) called the alex crow. it’s one of my favorite books of all time, so naturally i wanted to see if grasshopper jungle would make me feel similarly. just like the alex crow, grasshopper jungle’s plot is. so fucking weird. it stars austin szerba, a teenage polish kid who lives in ealing, iowa, and is often sexually confused regarding his girlfriend shann and his best friend robby. and in ealing, iowa, austin and robby accidentally and unknowingly unleash an unstoppable army of huge six-foot-tall praying mantis bugs that only want to do two things: fuck and eat. and i just have to say: andrew smith’s got an absolutely dynamo writing style. alex crow is similar, where it’s a book about kind of everything all at once, framed in a moment centering around teenage boys. it’s fantastic, and it’s more than a little gross, and i love it. this book made me feel so many things, and i thought austin was such an amazing narrator and main character to identify with. this book has it all: shitty teenage boy humor, fucked up science experiments, and poetic imagery that will make you want to cry. and explicit lgbt characters.

412/10 andrew smith what do you put in your water i just want to know

2. Burn by Patrick Ness

patrick ness has written a plethora of some of my favorite books (such as a monster calls, the chaos walking trilogy, and the rest of us just live here) so when i saw this one in the store i knew it would be a great one. burn is an alternate history fantasy that takes place in 1957 frome, washington, during the height of the cold war, and it begins with a girl named sarah and her father hiring a dragon to help out on their farm. but there’s not just dragons, farm living, and cold war tensions; there’s also a really shitty small town cop, a cult of dragon worshippers and their deadly teenage assassin, a pair of fbi agents, and a prophecy that sarah’s newly hired dragon claims she’s a part of. i think eoin colfer’s highfire was on my winter list, which also featured a story that included dragons and shitty cops, so when i first began burn i thought it was funny to have two books that had both things. you know, if you had a nickel etc etc. but that’s really where the similarities end because burn is entirely it’s own monster (dragon). burn is entirely invested in its world, and its fascinating. not only that, i had no clue where the book would take me next. there were so many surprises and amazing twists that honestly just blew me away. this book also includes beautifully written complicated discussions on family, race, and love - it features interracial and queer romances as the two most prominent romance plots which was such a nice surprise from a book i wasn’t expecting to have that kind of representation. this book is witty, fast-paced, and a very heartening read - i absolutely adored it.

9/10 dragons and becoming motivated by the power of love and friendship are so fucking cool

3. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

i hate this book! as meat loves salt is a historical fiction novel which takes place in seventeenth century england, which is going through a grisly civil war. the protagonist, jacob cullen, is a servant for a wealthy household and is engaged to another servant in the house. but due to certain events that are almost entirely jacob’s fault, he flees the house and is separated from his wife. from there, he joins the royal army and meets a kind soldier, ferris, and the two become fast friends. jacob and ferris’s relationship begins to bridge past friendly, and jacob struggles with his homoerotic feelings as well as the growing obsession and violence inside him. also, they try to start a colony. listen, i don’t know how to describe the book because so much happens, but it basically just follows jacob and all the terrible decisions he makes because he is, truly, a terrible person. ferris is kind and good, and jacob is scum of the earth. he sucks so bad. the entire time i was reading this book (which took absolutely so long), all i wanted was for jacob to just get his ass handed to him. i wanted to see him suffer. and it’s not like i just personally don’t like him - i believe the book purposefully depicts him as unsympathetic even though he is the narrator. i did enjoy the very in depth and accurate portrayal of what life would’ve been like in seventeenth century england, and i think it was interesting to read a character that is just the absolute worst person you’ve ever encountered and see him try and justify his actions, so if you enjoy that kind of thorough writing, then this book would be perfect for you. however, i did not see that bitch ass motherfucker jacob cullen suffer enough. i’d kill him with my bare hands.

2/10 diversity win! the worst man on earth is mlm!

4. This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab

i know ive had a friend tell me how great one of schwab’s other book series is, but truthfully i bought this book because the cover is sick as hell and it was on a table in the store that advertised for buy two get one free, i think. something like that. anyway, this savage song takes place in a future in which monsters, for whatever reason, suddenly became real and out for blood in a mysterious event nicknamed the phenomenon. august flynn is one of these monsters, but he takes no pride in that fact and only wants to feel human. kate harker is the daughter of a ruthless man and is trying her hardest to be ruthless, too, but deep down she knows it’s just an act. their city, verity, stands divided, and kate and august stand on either side - but when august is sent on a mission to befriend kate in the hopes of stopping an all out war, the lines begin to blur. this book rules. august and kate are such interesting and dynamic characters, and the narrative is familiar while still being capable of twisting the story around and taking the feet out from under you in really compelling ways. this savage song is part of the monsters of verity duology, and i can’t wait to dive into how the story continues and finishes.

11/10 sometimes you can judge a book by it’s cover

4a. Our Dark Duet by Victorian Schwab

this is the sequel and finale for this savage song and i’d figure i’d update everyone: fantastic ending, beautiful, showstopping, painful.

12/10 loved it and will definitely be keeping an eye out for schwab’s other books

5. White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

oh boy. okay. white is for witching is about a house, and it is about the women who have lived inside of it. when her mother dies abroad, miranda silver begins to act strangely, and there’s nothing her father or her twin brother seem to be able to do about it. she develops an eating disorder and begins to hear voices in the silver family house, converted to a bed and breakfast by miranda’s dad; and she begins to lose herself in the house and the persistent presence of her family legacy. white is for witching switches perspective dizzingly and disorientingly between miranda, her twin eliot, miranda’s friend from school named ore, and the house itself. this story is a horror story as much as it as a tragedy as much as it is a romance as much as it is a bunch of other things. oyeyemi brings race, sexuality, nationality, and family into this story and forces you not to look away. this book is poetry.

(like i mentioned briefly, this book heavily deals with topics of race and closely follows miranda’s eating disorder. read responsibly, and take care of yourselves)

15/10 this book consumed me and i think i’ll have to read it another 10 more times to feel it properly

6. These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

okay. okay. strap in for a ride. these violent delights is a romeo and juliet style story, taking place in glittering 1920’s shanghai. the city stands divided - not only between the foreign powers encroaching on chinese land, but also between the scarlet gang and the white flowers, who are at the height of a generations-long blood feud. juliette cai, heir to the scarlets, has recently returned from four years abroad and is determined to prove herself ruthless enough to lead. roma montagov, heir to the white flowers, is standing strenuously on his place as next in line due to a slip up four years prior and is desperate to keep hold of his title. and in the midst of juliette and roma’s burning history with each other threatening to combust, an unnatural monster lurks in the waters of shanghai, loosing a madness on scarlets and white flowers alike. this book has it all - scorned ex lovers, political intrigue, deadly monsters, and all set on a glamorous backdrop of the roaring twenties. i absolutely was enraptured by this book and the way it plays around the story of romeo and juliet so well that it easily became it’s own monster, but with the punches and embraces of something classically shakespearan. gong does just an absolutely breathtaking job of fitting this fantastical story amid the larger world of shanghai and the real life historical events that had shaken the city to its core. completely immersive and outstandingly heart racing.

17/10 i was chewing on my fingernails for the last thirty pages and will continue to do so until the sequel is released (our violent ends, 16 nov 21)

7. The Antiques by Kris D’Agostino

you ever heard of the american dysfunctional family story? this is most definitely that. at the same time george westfall’s cancer takes a turn for the worse, a hurricane hits the east coast, and suddenly all at once the issues of his health, the hurricane, and all three of his children’s achingly dysfunctional adult lives are crashing into each other. reunited by george’s death, the westfall siblings have to face their grief, each other, and the problems in their own lives they attempted to put on hold while planning their father’s memorial. this is a nice story about grief and loss and love and somehow finding the humor amidst it all.

(this book does include a depiction of an autistic child who does experience several pretty bad meltdowns due to ignorant people around him not understanding how to cater to his needs. im not an authority on what depictions are or are not harmful, but i do believe this depiction is ultimately loving and well-intended.)

7/10 it made me laugh and cry and was generally one of those books that somehow hit you close to home

8. Fierce Fairytales by Nikita Gill

fierce fairytales is a poetry anthology that reimagines classic fairytales from a modern, feminist viewpoint, acknowledging that the line between hero and villain, monster and damsel, are not as clear cut as the classics try to make you believe. this book also includes illustrations done by the author herself, which i think is really cool. my personal favorite story reimagining was the story of peter pan and captain hook, called ‘boy lost’ which looked at how peter and hook’s relationship began and rotted. all in all, i think this collection of stories had a lot of important things to say and said them in frank, easy to understand poetry and prose.

7/10 beautiful message and pretty prose, but at times a little cliche

and that’s all from the summer! my fall semester starts tomorrow, and overall i feel very good about all the reading i did this summer. i even read four other books not on this list for work! so i definitely feel like i made the most out of my time, and im really glad i was able to read so many stories that made me feel a variety of different things

thanks so much for reading this list, and let me know if you read or have read any of these books and tell me what you think of them!

happy reading<3

#book recs #book rec #book rec list #grasshopper jungle #burn #as meat loves salt #this savage song #monsters of verity #white is for witching #these violent delights #the antiques #fierce fairytales #just like my winter list i did write ever review immediately after finishing the book and i think.#i think here you can really tell what my immediate reactions were based on how the review is written fbfjfjd

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summersun4youforever · 3 years

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✨ Tag 9 people to learn more about their interests!

tagged by my fav @loulovehome thank you pu hope that this quells your curiosity!

MUSIC

fav genre? not to be that person but i think i have a toe in most genres, i suppose my favorites have got to be anything taylor swift does, pop punk, r&b pop/new age r&b, and bluegrass

fav artist? again, not to be that person but i love so many artists! let’s do this based off of genre: taylor swift, 1D, 5sos, massive focus on ZAYN, the Avett brothers, and counting crows

fav song? fav song of all time (since i was young) is going to be come around by rhett miller but more currently i’d say you are in love by taylor swift and dRuNk by ZAYN

song currently stuck in your head? i have no idea how it got there but i have stressed out by 21 pilots stuck in my head??

5 fav lyrics? ok let’s do this kids. edit: this went in a “fav love song lyrics” way so sorry in advance.

1) I hope that I don't sound to insane when I say / There is darkness all around us / I don't feel weak but I do need sometimes for her to protect me / And reconnect me to the beauty that I'm missin' (January Wedding - The Avett Brothers)

2) Hands around my waist / You're counting up the hills across the sheets / And I'm a falling star / A glimmer lighting up these cotton streets / I admit I'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules / But I've found my sweet escape when I'm alone with you (Disconnected - 5sos)

3) This is the worthwhile fight / Love is a ruthless game / Unless you play it good and right / These are the hands of fate / You're my Achilles heel / This is the golden age of something good / And right and real (State of Grace - Taylor Swift)

4) What if I changed my mind / What if I said it's over / I been flying so long / Can't remember what it was like to be sober / What if I lost my lives? / What if I said "Game over"? / What if I forget my lies? / And I lose all my composure (Back to Life - ZAYN)

5) I never said I was perfect / Or you don't deserve a good person to carry your baggage / I know a few girls that can handle it / I ain't that kind of chick, but I can call 'em for you if you want / I never said that you wasn't attractive / Your style and that beard, ooh, don't get me distracted / I'm tryna be patient, and patience takes practice / The fact is I'm leaving, so just let me have this (Jerome - Lizzo)

BOOKS

fav book genre? murder mystery and young love!

fav writer? jane austen, lisa jewell, and rick riordan (nostalgia ok?!)

fav book? the way i used to be my amber smith, rebecca by daphane du maurier, and then she was gone OR watching you (both by Lisa Jewell)

fav book series? i guess the whole percy jackson situations? i have everything RR every wrote, and i liked it all but i havent touched the older ones in ages

comfort book? not one specifically but the nancy drew books

perfect book to read on a rainy day? bird summons by leila aboulela

5 quotes from your fav book that you know by heart? i hope i can name five...

1) “The point is, life has to be endured, and lived. But how to live it is the problem.” “I am no traveller, you are my world.” (both are My Cousin Rachel by Daphne Du Maurier)

2) “And I’m terrified he’ll see through the tough iceberg layer, and he’ll discover not a soft, sweet girl, but an ugly fucking disaster underneath.” (The Way I Used to Be by Amber Smith)

3) "I cannot make speeches, Emma," he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover. But you understand me. Yes, you see, you understand my feelings and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.” (Emma by Jane Austen) (sorry for the length, the shortened versions were not cutting it for me)

4) “Read, read, read. That's all I can say.” (The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene)

5) “...amazing how boring you can get away with being when you’re pretty. No one seems to notice. When you’re pretty everyone just assumes you must have a great life. People are so short-sighted, sometimes. People are so stupid. I have a dark past and I have dark thoughts. I do dark things and I scare myself sometimes.” (Invisible Girl by Lisa Jewell)

TV AND MOVIES

fav tv/movie genre? i like dramedies, mockumentaries, and procedurals

fav movie? ive got a massive list on my phone but ill pick Doob (No Bed of Roses) and 3-Iron as my favs for today

comfort movie? 2000s romcoms, im talking clueless, 13 going on 30, how to loe a guy in ten days, ten things i hate abt you, legally blonde

movie you watch every year? mamma mia and all listed in prev question

fav tv show? too many, currently im rewatching arrested development

comfort tv show? new girl

most rewatched tv show? new girl

ultimate otp? shawn and jules from psych (ultimate bc ive been watching since diapers literally)

5 fav characters? winston bishop, stiles stilinski, bellamy blake, clarke griffin, lydia martin

super fun even though it took me an hour lmao, I'm tagging @technosoot @hometothecanyonmoon @sassylilnoodle @sushiniall @rosegold-thorns no pressure and sorry if youve already been tagged!

edit: i somehow managed to forget what i consider to be one of the greatest opening verses ever???? so bonus lyrics:

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog / Where no one notices the contrast of white on white / And in between the moon and you / The angels get a better view / Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right (Round Here - Counting Crows)

#lei te night thoughts #personal #tagged

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atlafan · 4 years

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The Real Him - One Shot

a/n: I’m not sure where this came from...a lot of this is sort of how I feel about writing, and reading, and how my brain works???? Hope you enjoy cause it’s fun! Book Writer!Harry x Y/N (not proofread)

Words: 9.6K

Warnings: Fluff, wee bit of angst, and smut

Books weren’t things Y/N found interesting. She hated reading the assigned books in high school for whatever English classes she had to take. She often would just read what she needed on Sparknotes, and that was enough. Then, in college, even if she wanted to read for leisure, she didn’t have the time. She had to read articles and academic journals constantly. By the time she was done for the day, the last thing she wanted to do was read.

Now, as a young adult living in the city, she noticed her anxiety was always worse at night. She lived alone in a little studio apartment, it had a wonderful view. She would watch TV or scroll on her phone until she fell asleep, but the screens were too much for her eyes. She knew it wasn’t good for her. Much to her friends’ shock, she texted them asking them for book recommendations. Y/N didn’t want to think too hard, she didn’t like scary stories, but she also liked a little bit of world building and romance. Fuck, if there was anything she loved, it was a good romance. Her friends told her about this young author they discovered whose stories were enthralling.

She took their word for it, and ordered one of his books off his website. He was self-published, which she found to be interesting. How good could he be if a major publication didn’t want him? She trusted her friends’ opinions though, so she went with it. He had this series called, The Unicorn in the Farmer’s Pool, that they raved about. She told herself she’d start with the first one and see how it goes. Sometimes Y/N had a hard time concentrating to even read a book, so she didn’t want to buy too many.

The title of the book itself was odd, but when she read the description she understood. Apparently, it was about this young woman, new to town, who was going for a walk with her younger sister, and one day they come across this beautiful old home and large farm. There was a pool in the back with one of those big unicorn floats, which they both found odd. They see the farmer outside, and the woman inquires about it. He explains that it’s his daughter’s. He and his wife were divorced, and she moved out to the city. Unfortunately, she passed away, so his little girl came home to live with him.

It was a certified slow burn, so when it came in the mail, Y/N couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. There was only one picture of the author, Harry Styles, on his website. The book, however, had a lovely picture of him on it. He even named his publication company after himself, trademarking HES Books. He was handsome, there was no denying that.

“Alright, let’s see how well this guy knows how to write thing from the perspective of a woman.” She says as she settles into her bed with the book.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N found a book that she just couldn’t put down. Sure, she passed out with it on her chest, but she’d get right back to it the next night. She was ripping through it. Her heart would race anytime the farmer and the woman had a scene together. She cried when he spoke about his divorce, and how he never slept knowing his daughter was so far away. He’d never wish his ex-wife ill, but he felt like it was fate to have his daughter home. He’d give her anything she wanted, even a giant unicorn float for the pool. Something she couldn’t have in the city. His daughter would paint his nails glittery colors, and he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought of it. Y/N could feel her heart pounding as the woman slowly fell for him. They became fast friends but it was clear they wanted more, but they were both so scared.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” She says to herself when she gets to the end of the book, it was a cliffhanger. They hadn’t even gotten together yet. They were caught in a rain storm, about to kiss, but they were interrupted. “Goddammit.” She groans and grabs her laptop to buy the rest of the series. “Welp, Mr. Styles, you now own my ass, I hope you’re happy.” She sticks her tongue out at his picture on his website.

By the time she finished the third book, she was inconsolable. It thrilling, but she knew it couldn’t be the end for the two who were now so in love with each other. She also couldn’t believe how well written their love scenes were, a little shocked there was a small dash of smut. She looked on his website and saw he was set to release the fourth and final book of the series soon, and there would be a big release for it. He would do a reading and signing. Y/N texted her friends and they all agreed they needed to go. They still couldn’t believe how much Y/N liked the series. It consumed her soul, she couldn’t get enough. She even bought his other standalone novels to read until the release.

Eliza: hey! HES just released the first book on audio, and he narrates it! Should hold us over until the release ;)

Y/N: holy fucking shit! Literally about to go download it, thanks!!!

Now this was a way to fall asleep, she thought. She plugged her earbuds into her phone, turned her light off, and hit play. She gasps the second she hears his voice.

“He’s British?!” She says to herself. “Dear god.”

His voice was deep and sultry, and sounded incredibly crisp through the audio. Each night for the rest of that week, she fell asleep to the sound of Harry’s voice; it was euphoric. She felt sort of weird for becoming as big of a fan of him that she was. It was like she was in high school again having a crush on some unattainable celebrity. She couldn’t even talk about him to anyone at work. It was like this big secret between her and her friends. Instead of listening to music in her office, she started listening to interviews or podcasts he was involved in. Anything to just get a better understanding for who he was or how his mind worked. She found that he was incredibly private, only tweeting or posting on Instagram from promotional purposes. A PR person most likely running the sites for him.

“Okay, I think I’m obsessed with him, like, it’s bad.” She tells her friends at brunch one Saturday morning. They would all try their best to get together a couple times a month.

“Welcome to the dark side.” Eliza says.

“I knew if we didn’t push you that you’d come around at some point to ask us for a book rec.” Melinda says.

“You could have just showed me his picture, he’s so handsome! I can’t wait to go to the signing. I wonder what type of suit he’ll wear. Maybe all black?”

“I heard he’s into florals lately.” Eliza says. “I’m glad we got our tickets when we did, it’s going to be packed.”

“Yeah, like, at least we’ll have seats for the reading.” Melinda says.

“I can’t believe we’re going to hear his voice in person. That audio book? Oh my god.” She pretends to fan herself. “I’ve been enjoying his other novels too. He has such a way with words, I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed a book this much. Maybe The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?” She chuckles.

“Didn’t you read that in high school?!” Eliza laughs.

“Yeah!” Y/N laughs, and Melinda joins in. “I fucking hate reading. I wonder if he’ll ever sell the rights and have it turned into a movie or TV series.”

“People have been begging him. He said maybe once the fourth book has been out for a bit. He didn’t want to feel pressured, like, you know how with Game of Thrones the books didn’t come out fast enough for the series?” Melinda says.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. I think a TV show would be good. Then they could take their time with it. The only thing is I can’t picture someone playing the farmer other than him.” Y/N sighs.

“Agreed.” Eliza says. “I can really only see him.”

“So, how are we dressing for the signing? I don’t wanna look desperate by dressing up too much.” Melinda says.

“Melinda…” Y/N starts chuckling. “You have a girlfriend.”

“I’m aware.” She swats a hand at Y/N. “But damn, Harry is too fine.”

Y/N curls the ends of her hair on the day of the signing. It was finally here, and she couldn’t be more excited. She found a cute yellow top to wear with some high waist jeans. She does some simple makeup, but makes sure to have her eyes pop. The rules were that people could only bring one book with them, so she grabs the first in the Unicorn series. She fully intended to buy the new book as well, and they said he would sign all new purchases too.

She meets Melinda and Eliza outside the bookstore where it would all be happening. They get in line to buy their new books, and head to their seats. They were able to snag tickets for the second row. He would be reading the first few chapters of the first book, and then would spend the rest of the time signing books.

“I’m so excited.” Y/N whispers to both of her friends.

A man comes out shortly to check the crowd of people waiting, and soon it’s announced that Harry would be coming out. Everyone stands up and claps for him. He was wearing a sleek black suit, and his hair was pushed back off his face. He looked bashful as he smiled out to everyone, and stood at the podium provided. Everyone sits back down as he clears his throat.

“Thank you all so much for being here. Whether you’re a new fan or if you’ve been with me for years, I appreciate your support. It feels surreal for this series to be over. I’ve loved these characters so much, and when I finished the final edits, it felt weird saying goodbye. I also want to say thanks for all the support with the first audio book. I fully intend to do one for the rest, it just takes a lot of time and editing, so hold tight for me, alright?” The crowd giggles, and his dimple grows deeper. He takes a sip of the water provided, and opens the book. “Let’s get started shall we?” He looks up at the audience who was waiting patiently. He makes eye contact with Y/N. It’s brief, but he looked at her…or at least she told herself he did.

His voice was just as smooth in person as it was on the audio. Y/N was swooning, barely paying attention to the words, but more so watching the way his lips moved. The way he’d lick his lips after getting a sip of water, and watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down. It all felt like a dream. He ended up reading five chapters instead of three, as a treat, until his manager came out to remind him to wrap it up.

“Right, well, I’ve been told I’m done speaking.” He chuckles. “I just need about ten minutes and I’ll be able to sign all your books. Thanks so much!”

He leaves as everyone claps for him again. Everyone gets in line and waits for him to return. There was a table waiting for him to sit at and a ton of markers.

“I wonder how long we’ll get with him. Like, a minute, right?” Eliza asks.

“Make every second count.” Y/N says.

“I’m gonna try to take a selfie.” Melinda says. “Then I’ll really remember it forever.”

As the girls got closer to the front of the line, Y/N felt herself getting nervous, and her palms were starting to sweat. She tries to wipe them on her jeans before she gets to him.

“Hello, love.” He smiles at her. “Whatcha bring f’me?”

“Huh?” She was so taken aback.

“Well, I know you didn’t come here to have me sign a body part…unless you did.” He shrugs. “Although, I don’t think my manager would appreciate that.” He winks at her and it makes her giggle.

“I have the first back, and the newest one.” She hands them both to him. “I have to say, I’m not really a big reader, but this really drew me in. I think I’ve fallen in love with reading for the first time in my life.”

“That’s like…I mean…wow, what a compliment, thanks.” He signs both of the books. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeats as he continues to leave a nice note in both of her books. “You know pictures aren’t allowed, but if you turn around and happen to take a selfie they can’t stop you.” He points to the few guards.

Y/N turns around and takes a selfie with Harry. She turns back around and chuckles as she takes her books back.

“Thank you so much. I can’t wait for the next audio books.”

“You liked the first one?”

“Loved it.”

“So, it wasn’t weird listening to me for that long?”

“Not at all…” She starts blushing. “Your voice is sort of, um, soothing…I have a lot of anxiety at night, and, well, reading, and evening listening has helped me sleep a lot better. So, thanks again.” She smiles at him and he smiles back.

He wished he could hug her. He looks back at his manager, who just sighs at him and nods. Harry stands up from the table and walks around. Before she knew it, his arms were being wrapped around her. She got a whiff of his cologne, and she swore it was her new favorite smell in the world. She barely got a chance to put her hands on him before his manager said it was enough and Harry needed to get back to it.

“Sorry, that was just so endearing.” He lets go of her and sits back down. “Thanks for your support.”

Y/N steps aside and looks at her friends who were waiting for her to finish up. She looks back at Harry who was already talking to the next person. She sighs, knowing she was long forgotten already.

“Oh my god, I took a picture of him hugging you.” Eliza says. “What was it like? All he did was shake my hand.”

“He smelled so good.” Y/N whines. “Girls, let’s go out for drinks tonight. I need to get some energy out.”

“Great idea! We can drink and then dance the night away.” Melinda says. “What did he write in your books?”

“I don’t wanna look yet, I wanna save it.” Y/N smiles and holds her books close to her.

After grabbing dinner and dropping their books off at Y/N’s place, they all head to their favorite dance bar. They all get their drinks and stand near the bar to drink them. Y/N was happily sucking on her straw, swaying along to the fast beat of the music.

“Look, they actually roped off the VIP section.” Eliza points out. Y/N and Melinda turn to look.

“I wonder who’s here. Once in a while someone cool shows up.” Melinda says.

The group in the VIP section erupts into laughter, and the girls’ eyes grow wide. Harry was standing up from the booth, looking much more casual. He still had his dress pants and button up on, but his sleeves were pushed up, revealing his tattoos. He strides up to the bar as he shakes his head back at his friends. He brushes right by the girls, bumping into Y/N, causing her to spill her drink.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, love.” He says to her, and then he looks her up and down. “Do I know you?” He slurs slightly.

“Um…we…we met earlier today. You signed my books.”

“I signed your what?!” The music was really loud, he must have thought she said something else.

“Books, books!” She really enunciates the k sound.

“Oh!” He bursts out laughing, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I was gonna say, that sorta thing isn’t really my style. What are you drinking, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. There’s still plenty in here.”

“Don’t be silly, I feel terrible. In fact,” He looks at Melinda and Eliza, and then to the bar tender. “Their next round’s on me. I also need another bottle of Patron for my table.”

“Coming right up!”

“Lost a bet with ‘em.” He rolls his eyes. “So the next bottle’s on me.” He shrugs.

“We’ll bring it over to you.” The bar tender says as she puts up three new drinks for you and your friends.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“S’the least I can do. Your support is the only reason why I can afford what I have. I should buy your drinks all night.” He smirks.

“Y/N.” Melinds grabs her shoulders and whispers in her ear. “Go for it, bitch, go for it. He’s hitting on you. We’ll be over there.”

She lets Y/N go and drags Eliza with her over to another part of the bar. Y/N grabs her drink and smiles at Harry.

“Your name’s Y/N, right?”

“You must have seen hundreds of people today, how’d you remember?”

“I’m really good with names.” He grins. “Do you want to join me and my friends?”

“What?!”

“Come on, seems like your friends are busy anyways.” He nods over to Melinda and Eliza where Melinda was working as a wing-man for Eliza. “They’re bringing over the Patron, you’ll love it.” He grabs her wrist and brings her over. One of the body guards raises his eyebrows. “I’m baacckk, let us in Mike.” Mike lifts the rope up and lets Harry and Y/N in. “Everyone this is Y/N, she’s got to be one of my biggest fans, so she’s joining us.” He pulls her down into the booth with him and puts his arm around her shoulders.

He was drunk, this was very clear. No one seemed bothered by her presence. Everyone was just happy to have refills for their drinks. Harry takes a shot of the Patron along with everyone else as Y/N sips on her drink. She felt bad, Eliza had to be a bigger fan of Harry, or at least she had been a fan longer…

“So, how’d you know he’d be here?” Harry’s manager, Jeff, asks.

“I didn’t.” She blushes. “My friends and I come here all the time.”

“Right, like we haven’t heard that one before.” Jeff smirks. “Some of you fangirls-“

“Oi! Don’t make fun, she’s cool.” Harry defends her.

“I can prove I’ve been here plenty of times.” Y/N takes her phone out and shows them her Facebook page. “There, you can see how many times I’ve checked in here. I only live a block away, so this tends to be the spot.”

“See, Jess, this is the spot.” Harry smirks, and knocks back another shot. “We’re being rude, here.” He slides a shot over to her. “Have as much as you like.”

“That’s okay, I have this.” She points to her glass.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, you’re so nice.” He pulls her a little closer to him. “But really, if you want any, you can have as much as you want, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Y/N sort of just sits there and tries to listen as each person talks, but the music was so loud, and she was itching to dance, especially now that she had a couple of drinks in her. She was drumming her fingers mindlessly on the table.

“Do you want to dance?” He whispers in her ear. A shiver goes up her spine. She looks up at him and nods. “Alright, let’s hit it then.”

She gets out of the booth and he quickly follows her out to the dance floor. At first it’s just light and playful, he keeps one hand in hers, but keeps a respectable distance. If Y/N was dancing with her friends right now she’d probably be popping her ass no problem. She sort of wished they were still around. She couldn’t remember the last time she danced with a guy. She looks at him and feels a little bold, so she hooks an arm around his neck and dances close to him. His hands move to her hips as she essentially grinds on his thigh. When the next song starts, she turns around to grind her ass against his pelvis. He presses forward against her and she can tell he’s very happy to be dancing with her.

“You said your place was only a block away?” He says into her ear, and she nods. “Wanna head there?”

She stops dancing and turns around to face him.

“Are you serious?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, too forward?”

“No…I just…um…yeah, let’s go back to mine.”

He smiles and throws his arm around her shoulders. He looks over at Jeff who was still sitting with their friends. He waves off to him, and heads out side with Y/N. Harry whistles for a cab, and one pulls up almost right away. They both get into the backseat, and Y/N gives the driver her address. Harry rubs circles into her shoulder. She rests her hand on his knee, as her leg shakes with nerves.

“You alright, love?”

“Mhm, yeah.” She doesn’t look at him.

“No need to be nervous, babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She looks up at him now and smiles. She wanted to do everything with him. It was like every fantasy she had was coming to life. She had dreams about this, but never thought it would come true. The cab pulls up in front of Y/N’s building and they both get out of the cab. She keys into the front door and she leads him to the elevator.

“I’m surprised you’re not exhausted, must be draining to meet so many people.”

“Caught a second wind.” He winks at her. She giggles as they get off at her floor.

She leads him inside as she flips the lights on.

“It’s just a studio.”

“It’s nice, just enough space. You’ve got a great view.” He says as he walks over to the window.

“Yeah, I got really lucky.”

“Mind if I pull the curtains?”

“Not at all.”

She watches the muscles in his back flex as he reaches to pull the curtains closed. He turns to face her and walks over to where she is. He cups one of her cheeks and she leans into his touch.

“I have to be honest, I don’t usually do this.” He says.

“Do what? Hook up with a girl from a bar?” She smirks.

“No, hook up with a fan…” He sighs. “But what you said to me earlier about your anxiety and how my books have helped you, it stuck with me all day. I’m really glad I ran back into you. I got kinda nervous when you didn’t message me.”

“What? Why would I have?”

“I wrote my number in your book.” He lets go of her and steps back. “You didn’t read my notes?”

“No, I…I was saving them for when I was feeling down.” She admits, a little embarrassed. “Why did you put your number in it?”

“In case you ever needed someone to talk to…if you ever got sick of listening to the same story over and over. It was a little impulsive, but no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

“I’m surprised by that.”

“Usually people just tell me that they enjoyed it, or they try to flirt or something. It’s usually pretty hollow.” He shrugs. “But you…” He takes her hands in his. “Well…if you noticed, I didn’t really hug anyone else.”

“I did notice. You made me feel really special, Harry.”

“I’d like to keep making you feel that way…”

He releases her hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands slide up through his curls, and she gets up on her tip toes while his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close. His lips brush over hers, and she pulls his face closer to hers to deepen the kiss. She smiles against his lips which makes him smile and pull back.

“What is it?”

“I just…I can’t believe this is happening…” She presses her hips closer to his.

“You’ve thought about this before, with me?”

She nods her head yes and he smirks.

“Is that weird?” She asks, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“Who am I to judge what helps someone fall asleep at night?” His voice was low now, eyes darker than they were moments before.

Maybe this wasn’t something either of them should be doing while inebriated. But from lack of better judgement they start kissing again. His hands slide down to cup her ass, and his large hands give her a squeeze. She groans into his mouth, giving him the perfect excuse to lick into her. Her tongue molds to his, and she starts pushing him to walk back towards her bed. He happily lets her lead the way.

The back of his calves hit the bed, and he almost loses his balance. He sits down and brings her with him so she’s straddling his lap. Lips only breaking for a moment to get some air until they’re on each other again. Her hands lace through his hair and he groans when she tugs on him. His lips move to her jaw and then to just under her ear. She gasps when she feels him suck on the tender skin. Her hips roll down over his, and he smirks against her. He licks over the spot he was sucking on, and goes back for more. She grinds herself against him, feeling his bulge press up against where she needs it most. His lips move back to hers so he can nip at her bottom lip before looking at her.

“You want this?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t have said yes to coming back here if I didn’t.”

“You could have changed your mind between the bar and now.” He tucks some loose strands of hair behind her hair. “I meant what I said earlier, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to, do you?”

“I certainly didn’t change my mind.”

She smiles and leans in to kiss him again before getting off him. She reaches behind him quickly to snag one of her throw pillows to put on the floor. She sits up on her knees before him and reaches for his for the button on his dress pants. She looks up at him as he widens his legs for her. He wasn’t expecting a blow job, but he wasn’t one to turn it down. She pops the button and undoes his zipper. She reaches into his pants and palms him through his boxers first. His palms were flat on the bed, his arms keeping him up, but he can’t help but let his head fall back from her touch.

“Harry, look at me.”

He immediately does as she says so he can make eye contact with her.

“Is this okay? Can I take it out?”

“Yeah, please.”

She smiles and tugs his pants and boxers down slightly, he lifts his hips up to help her. He unbuttons his shirt while his dick slaps up against his lower stomach. She gazes up at him. Once his shirt is off, she can’t help but look over all his tattoos.

“You’re so…pretty.” She chuckles.

“Not as pretty as you.” He runs his hands through her hair, giving her a little encouragement to get started.

She blushes as her eyes fall to his hard cock, tip swollen and ready to go. She licks her right hand and gives him a few pumps first. He grunts as he watches her. She licks a stripe up from his base to his tip before she wraps her lips around him. His eyes flutter closed for a second, but he didn’t want to miss anything so he does his best to keep his eyes open to watch her work on him. She already had small droplets of spit rolling down her chin. Sloppy, he thinks to himself and he smirks. She sinks a little further down on him, testing herself to see how much she can take. He thrusts up slightly to meet her halfway and she gags on him, needing to pop off for a moment.

“Sorry, been a while.” She mumbles, and gets back on him.

“No worries, doing great, love.”

He helps keep her hair back as she starts to bob up and down on him. Her warm mouth felt so fucking good around him. She swallows around him before really hollowing her cheeks to suck on him. Her mouth moves up to his tip so she can lick away at his slit. She wraps a hand around him to pump him as she does this.

“Baby, baby, hold on.” He pants, and moves her face away from him. She looks up at him with big, innocent eyes that were slightly watery now. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.” He sounded almost out of the breath. She nods and stands up. His hands grips her hips and then slide to the button on her own jeans. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She says, taking off her shirt. He looks up at her and kisses on her chest as he undoes her pants.

He yanks them down her legs. He smiles at her mismatched set of underwear. She had worn a white bra with her yellow shirt, and a simple pair of blue panties with her jeans.

“I didn’t think, um, I would be…it was a girl’s night, and-“

“Do you really think I care about your underwear not matching?” He raises an eyebrow at her as he smirks.

She smiles and rests her hands on his shoulders as he kisses on her lower tummy. He stands up to kick his pants away, and lets her get on the bed. She lays on her back, propping herself up with her elbows. He crawls onto the bed and settles between her legs. His lips find hers as he grinds himself against her covered center. She bites her bottom lip, just wanting her underwear gone. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra. After a few seconds of fumbling he gets it, and watches the bra loosen around her. She pushes it off her shoulders, and tosses it to the ground. His hands cup her full breasts immediately. He kneads them and tweaks her nipples. She grinds her hips up towards his as they continue to move against each other. He dips his head down to kiss on her chest, and he rolls a nipple between his teeth. He works his way down her body and slides her underwear down her legs, tossing them aside where he feels like. She parts her legs for him.

He dips his down and licks from her center to her clit. He does this slowly but with precision. Her hips buck up towards him, encouraging him to keep going, so he does. He licks all around her until his lips are around her throbbing clit. He nibbles and sucks and flicks his tongue while his fingers explore her folds. Her hands were in his hair. She kept thinking she was going to wake up. Any minute now she would snap out of her dream. She would pinch her eyes closed and expect to see the morning sun creeping through her windows, but not this time. When she opened her eyes there he was, head between her legs, lapping away at her. The clouds covering the moon and night sky. He had her whimpering and tugging at his hair. He wanted her to come, but not yet, just get her to the brink. She pouts at him when he lifts his head. He licks his lips and smiles at her.

“Got any rubbers?”

“Mhm, in the bathroom, I can-“

“I got it, just tell me where.”

“The box in the cabinet below the sink.”

He pecks her lips before going into her little bathroom. He smirked to himself wondering how he might shower the next morning. He was taller than the showerhead. He bends down to open up the cabinet and spots the box of condoms. It was opened, but not many were missing. Not the he was one to judge. Harry hooked up a lot. He grabs a couple, just in case they feel like getting frisky again later on, and heads back out. He rips the foil packet open and slides it on over his length. She bites her bottom lip in anticipation.

“Tell me something,” He starts as he gets back on the bed, between her legs, hovering over her body. “When you had me in your thoughts was it ever like this?”

He rubs his tip against her clit, getting her to moan out. He pushes into her entrance but doesn’t go much further until he gets his answer. His eyebrows were raised, looking at her.

“This is usually the part when I’d wake up.” She whispers. “Before anything good could really happen.” She cups his cheek and runs her thumb over his cheekbone. “Please.”

He kisses her as he pushes the rest of the way inside her. They both groan. She was so wet, even with the condom on, it still felt amazing. He was nice and snug inside her. He moves slowly at first to not hurt her. He hooks an arm under one of her legs to bring it up a little higher. He wanted to get in as deep as possible. She clutches at his shoulders as he drives it in.

“Oh my god.” She gasps as his tip brushes her g-spot. “Jesus Christ.” She grits her teeth.

“Ever had anyone like this before?” He says into her ear.

“Never this deep, shit.”

He sits up and puts both of her legs over his shoulders. His fingers press bruises into her thighs as he holds onto her. She looks up at him as her mouth falls open. He was ramming into her and it felt so good to fuck like this. She didn’t want to be treated delicately. What he was doing was amazing, but her clit was missing the friction, so her hand slides down to rub at it.

“Fuck.” He breathes as he watches her touch herself. He lets go of one of her thighs and moves her hand aside so he can rub it for her. Her head rolls back the second she feels his thumb on her.

“Just like that.” She pants. “Don’t stop.”

He grunts his response as he continues to fuck her. He could feel her tightening around his cock and he knew she was close. He rubs her a little faster, and watches as her body contorts under his.

“Let go, come on, show me how you do it, Y/N.”

That pushes her over the edge. She cries out as she comes around him. He rubs her still, but slows his pace to help her through it. She tightens around him again as she comes down from her bliss. He drops her legs and pulls out. He sits up against her headboard and pulls her into his lap. He doesn’t have her face him, though, he has her sit on him facing away. Her head rolls back against his shoulder once she sinks down on him. She uses her knees to push herself up and down on his cock. He bites down on her shoulder, licks up to just under her ear to suck on the tender skin again. His hands find her bouncing breasts, and he kneads them.

“Harry.” She groans.

“Feels good, love?”

“So good.” She turns her head and sticks her tongue out slightly so he’ll kiss her. His tongue meets hers and they practically slobber all over each other as her pace quickens on him.

His hands slide down to her hips to help her. He thrusts up into her to get into a rhythm. He could feel his orgasm bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He moans, which makes her moan. She tightens around him. He wanted her to come again, to come with him, so he rubs her clit while she continues to bounce him.

“Shit, fuck, Harry!”

They come at the same time, both of them crying out form the intensity. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he lifts her off of him. She gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom to clean herself up. He goes in after her to rid himself of the condom. She was about to throw on a t-shirt when he comes back out.

“Don’t bother.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll just come off again.”

“Oh.” She blushes and puts it back into her dresser.

He gets on the bed with her and pulls her close to his chest. His fingers run up and down her back lightly, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. She rests one of her legs on top of his, and wraps her arm around his torso. She wasn’t sure if she’d have the energy to fuck him again so soon, especially when the rhythm of his heart beat was lulling her to sleep. Her eyes flutter closed. He looks down at her and smiles when he sees her lips parted. He kisses the top of her head, and slowly falls asleep himself.

The next morning, Y/N wakes up cozy, head stuffed into her pillow, blankets wrapped around her. It was darker than usual. Her eyes flutter open and see the rain falling down. She hears it tapping delicately against her windows. It was a normal Sunday morning, or it would have been if she hadn’t completely forgotten there was a warm body wrapped around her. She rolls over slowly not to disturb the stranger. She gasps to herself when she sees it really is Harry Styles, not just some guy that looked like him. She really took him home with her and she really fucked him. He pulls her closer to her and she sighs.

“Your bed’s comfy.” He mutters.

“Thanks, I’ve got one of those foam pads under the sheets. Makes a world of difference.”

She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles. She feels him press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling away slightly.

“Mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all.” She smiles up at him. “If you don’t mind smelling like my fruity shampoo, that is.”

“You’re funny.” He chuckles again and stretches as he sits up. He rubs his eyes, and gets out of the bed. Y/N couldn’t help but ogle his naked body as he walks away. He pops his head out of the door frame to look at her. “Are you coming?”

“Oh…you wanted me to-“

“Obviously.” He scoffs. “Wouldn’t mind fucking you again, either.”

Normally she’d wrap herself in a blanket, but if he was going to be bold, then so was she. So she gets out of bed and struts over towards him. She brushes her teeth quickly as he uses some mouth wash. She gets the water in the shower going.

“Does that head detach? I don’t know if I can crouch for that long.” He laughs.

“Yeah, it comes right off, don’t worry.” She pulls back the curtain and they both get in.

She helps him wash up, scrubs her nails over his head as she washes out the shampoo, and once they’re both clean, he hoists her up against the wall, and kisses her. She was plenty wet for him, and he smiles against her as he slips a finger inside her.

“You were ready f’me, hm?”

“Guess so.” She nips at his bottom lip, which delights him.

“Mind if I just slip it in like this and pull out after?”

“That’s fine.” She smiles. “Wouldn’t mind actually being able to feel you.”

“Christ.” He groans, and then pushes his hard cock inside her. Her head rolls back against the tile as his lips attack to her throat.

It was a nice, passionate morning fuck. When they’re done she gets him a towel, and wraps one around herself. He watches as she runs around to make her bed back up. It was a small apartment, so any clutter just made it look even smaller. He grabs his phone out of his pants pocket, and sighs.

“Alright?” She asks, sitting on the edge of her bed. He comes to sit down next to her.

“Yeah, just a ton of missed calls and texts. Thought I made it pretty clear to Jeff I wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel last night.”

“Do you have a plane to catch or anything?”

“Not today, tomorrow though.”

She watches as he types away to respond to the dozen or so texts he had form various people.

“Would you like any coffee or anything? Juice?”

“Just a black coffee would be perfect if it’s not too much trouble, love.”

“Coming right up.”

His eyes flicker up to watch her bum and hips sway as she walks into the kitchen area. She fills up her Keurig to get his coffee going.

“No cream or sugar, just black?”

“Please.” He smiles. “Thanks.”

She nods and gets a mug down from her cabinet to place under the machine. She thinks he’s talking to her for a moment, but when she looks over she can see he’s on the phone.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’m well aware, thanks.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m allowed to go out and have some fun.” He crosses a leg over the other so he can rest his elbow on his thigh, propping his chin up with his palm. “She’s making me a cup of coffee, is that alright? No, I don’t just carry those in my back pocket…” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Alright, bye.”

She comes over to him with a mug for him, and one for herself. She added a bit of cream to hers. She just couldn’t do black coffee.

“Thank you so much, feel like I’m about to get a headache.” He says, taking the mug from her, smacking his lips after he takes a sip.

“I have some aspirin if you need some.”

“Caffeine should work just fine, but thank you.”

“So, uh, not that I was listening in or anything, just, small space and all, but what don’t you carry around in your back pocket?”

“Oh.” He chuckles. “An NDA, that’s all. Jeff’s gonna email one over to me any second I’m sure.”

“What do you need an NDA for?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.” She looks at him deeply confused. “I’m a very private person, and not that I think you’re the type to go around spouting your business, it’s just, well, you’re a fan and…”

“You need me to sign an NDA so I won’t tell anyone we fucked?”

“Basically, yeah. Sorry if that makes things a little awkward. It’s just to keep my personal life personal, that’s all.” He takes another sip of the coffee. “This is really good, what brand is this?”

“Green Mountain Coffee…it comes from Vermont.”

“It’s delicious, I’ll have to look into it.” He smiles, although she can tell she’s starting to feel uneasy. She’s painfully aware that this was just a drunk hookup, a one night stand. “Are you alright?” He puts a hand on her knee.

“M’fine, just a bit groggy.” She sips her own coffee.

“Well, I’m starved, you’ve gotta be too, right? What a good place to grab some breakfast around here?” He stands up and starts looking for his clothes.

“Um…there’s a place right down the street.”

“We’ll have to take a cab unless you have a really big umbrella.” He smirks as he pulls his boxers on.

“Do I have to sign an agreement saying I won’t talk about breakfast too, or?”

Harry sighs as he pulls his pants on. She looks at him as she sips her coffee.

“Guess I’ll find out when I read the fine print.” She stands up and walks back over to her kitchen area. He follows her there with his mug and sticks it in the sink.

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“It’s not, I just…I mean…what do you think I’m going to do? Go onto a blog and spill every detail about last night? As if I could remember every little thing.” She scoffs and rinses out her mug.

“You easily could. You have to understand, sometimes when stories slip or people feel like they know things about you, it’s harder to get deals or make business decisions. I want to be taken seriously, so I don’t post personal things on social media, and I have the people I hook up with sign NDA’s.”

“Well, maybe I should have you sign one for me then.” She says, crossing her arms. He raises an eyebrow at her. “How do I know our night together won’t be inspiration for your next love scenes? You’re quite descriptive in your works. You must take from real life when you’re writing those things.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll text Jeff and have him email me two, one for each of us. I won’t talk about you and you won’t talk about me. Now, can we please go get some breakfast?”

“Why do you even want to go anywhere with me if you’re so scared of people finding out?” She walks over to her dresser to pick out an outfit she wouldn’t mind getting wet in the rain.

“It’s one thing to be seen with someone at a diner, it’s another to have what you’re like in the bedroom aired out to millions of people.”

“It’ll be obvious we slept together. My neck is littered with kiss marks.” She taps over one of the spots. He watches as she wriggles a pair of panties up her legs, and then a pair of jeans. “You’re also wearing your clothes from last night.” She tosses him his button up.

“I don’t suppose you have a large t-shirt I could throw on?”

“I’m sure I could find one.” She find a bra and t-shirt of her own, and then rummages through her pajama drawer for one of her larger bed shirts. “Here.” She hands him the shirt. He puts it on and looks down at it.

“Cute.” He smiles. “You can keep mine, and I’ll keep this one, how’s that sound?”

“Guess I’m just glad that’s not my favorite one.” She grabs her raincoat and umbrella. She furrows her brows and then remembers where her rubber boots on. “Could you order an uber or something?”

“Sure.”

They get down to the street, and head into the car he ordered. The diner was busy when they got there, but since it was just the two of them, they didn’t have to wait long to be seated. Harry’s phone pings with the email from Jeff.

“So…I just need to digitally sign it?”

“Mhm.” He hands his phone over to her so she can read over everything. He rests his chin on his palm. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone read over it so diligently before.”

“I’m a lawyer.” She mumbles.

“No shit.” He sits up, suddenly even more intrigued with her. “Good for you.”

“Well, I’m in law school, and I work as a para at a law firm, but I’m getting there.” She says as she uses her finger to sign her life away. “I’d like to read the one he sent to you for me.”

“Just swipe to the next email.”

She nods and looks it over. It was the same as her. She hands him back his phone and watches him sign it.

“I’d like both copies emailed over to me.”

“Alright, what’s your email?”

“I’ll put it in.” She takes his phone back and puts her information in, sending herself the copies. “There.” She crosses her arms. “Happy?”

“Yes, actually.”

A waitress comes over to them, and they both order scrambled eggs with bacon, potatoes, and toast. It’s quiet between them for a few moments. She looks out the window to watch the rain fall, and then looks back at him. He was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looks up at her.

“What am I doing here with you? You could have easily slipped out this morning, even last night…”

“I’m not that kind of guy.”

“So…what is this, a consolation before we never see each other again?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?! I feel like I’m not even looking at a real person. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and I would have killed for the opportunity to sit down and have breakfast with you. I have so many questions about your work, and-“

“So, ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me all your questions. What can I answer that I haven’t already in an interview? You wanna know my thought process? Where and what I get inspired by? How long it takes me to write a book, a chapter even? I only have bullshit answers, to be honest. I keep notes on my phone for when I get inspired, and then when I’m able to be at my computer I’ll type for hours without stopping. It’s like I blackout or something. It feels like I didn’t even take a second to blink. I’ll work on multiple projects at the same time too. I have three other books I’m currently working, all with completely different topics and characters. I can’t shut my brain off, ever. I don’t know why I’m like this. Even when I go on a vacation to unplug, I have to keep a notebook with me to write things down. I started writing because I just needed to get everything out of my head. I feel a huge sense of relief when I’m done with a piece so I can just move on from it. I had to start my own publication because my content was going to be put in the same category as Fifty Shades, and I didn’t want that. Luckily, Jeff went to school for PR, and he helped me out, and now he’s my manager. He’s the best there is, but sometimes it would be nice to fuck a pretty girl and take her to breakfast without having to worry about every little thing.”

Before Y/N can respond their food is brought over. They both thank the waitress. She picks her for up and plays with her potatoes before looking at him.

“Not to mention, said pretty girl told me how much my work means to her, how it helps her sleep at night. Fuck, I mean, I thought I was going to melt into a fucking puddle right there. My anxiety gets bad at night too, I knew exactly where you were coming from, babe. I can’t tell you how many nights I try to go to sleep and can’t, so I just get up and go back to my computer until I pass out in my chair.” He blinks at her, as she still says nothing. “Are you…not going to say anything?”

“I’m not sure what to say, I’m trying to take in everything you said and match it to the person you were yesterday at that signing. It’s an act, right? Your cool demeanor?”

“I have a stage presence for sure.” He sighs, and takes a bite of his bacon. “What am I gonna do, get up there and tell everyone that the fourth book took so long because I had to have surgery for carpal tunnel?”

“For someone who likes to be so private, you’re sure telling me a lot of personal things.”

“You signed something saying you wouldn’t discuss any of this, so I feel a little freer to explain myself. Have I totally ruined your perception of me? Is this a never meet your hero sort of moment?”

“Not at all.” She smiles. “You seem comfortable with me, which is nice. I like that I’m seeing this side of you, you’re more than just the suave guy I’ve seen in interviews, or listening to on podcasts. You’re a person, just like me.”

“Exactly, so you understand why I might want some privacy.”

“I do.” She nods and finally takes a bite of her food. “I’m sorry if I got a little pissy about it.”

“Don’t be, it’s always an awkward conversation to have.”

“So, how many women do you hook up with exactly? You’re making yourself sound like a player.” She chuckles.

“I mean…I’m a guy who has needs. I’m not gonna lie, I probably do it a little too much, but I don’t usually spend this much time with the person, or if I do…well…it’s not usually like this.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to actually have a conversation with you.” He shrugs. “You peaked my interest.”

“Clearly.” She smirks.

“At least I’ve never rubbed one out to the thought of a famous person.” He smirks back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you consider yourself famous?” She grins at him. “And I haven’t rubbed one out, it’s usually just a dream. Don’t flatter yourself, Harry.” She shakes her head.

“My bad, so I’ll just assume you get that wet for every guy you hook up with?”

Where was this conversation going, and why was it happening in such a public place? Was he trying to rile her up?

“I don’t think this is appropriate to talk about right now.” She whispers harshly.

He smirks and continues eating. They look at each other occasionally as they eat. The waitress comes over with the bill, and Harry throws some cash down on the table.

“Let me pay the tip at least.” She says, reaching for her purse.

“Don’t be silly, I put plenty down for the tip. I’ve got it.” He puts his hand over hers. “Seems like the rain’s stopped, wanna walk back?”

“Do you not need to be anywhere?”

“Nope.” He smiles. “Today’s my free day, isn’t that nice? I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and that’s all I have to worry about. So, I’m more than happy to walk you back home.”

She nods and follows him out of the diner.

“So, do I only get your email, or do I get your number too?”

“Why, so you can hit me up whenever you’re in the city?”

“Precisely.” He nudges her as she laughs. “Come on, I gave you mine.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even look…I would have been so embarrassed, you would have forgotten all about me. I don’t even know if I would have even had the courage to message you.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

“Did you manager know you just gave your number out like that?”

“God no, he’d murder me.” Harry chuckles. “Jeff’s great, but he’s way too serious.”

“So, maybe I’ll message you sometime.”

“I prefer chatting on the phone, to be honest.”

“Why’s that?”

“Anyone can send a text, but a phone is, like, I don’t know, it’s romantic.”

“Romantic?��

“Yeah, like, a phone is something you really need to make time for.”

She pouts at him and looks at him with big eyes. They stop once they’re in front of her building.

“I come back to the city in two weeks, I really would like to see you again.”

“What are you coming back for?”

“Another signing. This one sold out, and I felt bad. I think anyone who wants to see me should.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have anything that I do if it weren’t for the people who supported me.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles. “Okay, I guess we could see each other again.”

“Great, just make sure you call me, okay? Then I can call you, and we’ll just be two people calling each other sometimes.” He blushes.

“Why are you so romantic?” She laughs and wraps her arms around his waist.

“I wish I knew. It’s a blessing and a curse, I think.” He sighs and cups her cheeks. He leans in and kisses her, she happily kisses him back and pulls him closer.

“Do you, um, need to go back to your hotel now?”

“Not necessarily, what’d you have in mind?” He raises an eyebrow at her. She leans up and whispers in his ear, making his cheeks grow hotter. He looks at her, a little stunned. “I definitely have time for that.”

“I figured you would.” She winks at him and yanks him into her building.

She wasn’t ready to let go of him just yet. Everything still felt like a dream, only better. Even when Harry had to go off to his next signing, she slept better than she ever had. She called him late one night, much to his surprise, and they spoke for hours. She didn’t have to listen to the same words over and over to fall asleep, she had him, the real him.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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pepperpills · 3 years

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The Harvest - RE8 Fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: heey, so here is Part III, hope you all enjoy it! i'm thinking of starting a new story soon, once this is ended, probably focusing more on world building and Karl and reader relationship hehe

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2) Part II - The Lord

Part III – The Hunt

Getting to know the factory turned out to be a fantastic experience. You had never seem so many different paraphernalia in your live, the closer you had ever got to that was when you were a child poking around your dad’s storeroom, but there were only some tools, agriculture products and inherited ornaments from your cabin family – these last ones were your absolute favourite.

Heisenberg’s factory, on the other hand, was full of interesting things, some of them you had no idea what were used for. You even found a suspicious “torture” room, but couldn’t dig into it, once he was nearby. Still, you found his journals narrating his experiments, his audio reports and some guide books on mechanics that had you intrigued for a long time while reading them. He was a madman, you were convinced, but at the same time, that secluded part of you was growing a little each day you explored his life.

Lord Heisenberg was nicer and quieter than you would imagine. He basically lived in his various offices across the factory, mostly he would be trying new mechanisms on bodies and seeing how they reacted with the Cadou, the strange parasite the villagers mentioned only on rare and veiled conversations. As far as it wasn’t you, or your family, lying cold on one of the stretchers, you didn’t care. As a matter of fact, you felt tempted to try some things with the gears yourself as you deepen your studies in his books.

At your first days there, you got worried you would have to share the bed with him, which would be much more proximity than you had ever had with another person. The man had already seen your half naked and that was enough. However, he didn’t sleep there with you and you wondered why, once he so enthusiastically mocked you about it when you arrived. Actually, you started doubting he ever slept at all.

You were still a bit scared, though, never knowing if he would play a prank on you, so you were very careful to avoid him for a while - that didn’t endure –, believing you should give him space to get used to your presence after the mood he got into after your reception.

He was disturbed, indeed. His work was getting closer to a crucial point that involved Mother Miranda. He musted be discreet, but it was proving to be a real trial with Soldats activating and running around as lost beasts. Also, having you around actually gave him a new problem.

Lord Heisenberg would walk around the factory looking for material, testing the Soldats and cursing a lot, some of these swearwords you didn’t even know, but started liking how he used them, almost cartoonish. It was never directed to you, of course. He acted like you weren’t there most of the time, in others, when he was more chilled, with less work to do, he asked “how is the mess at the wing, buttercup?” laughing at you blushing at his indiscreet platonic flirts.

You had to find your way around the factory. That place was a labyrinth and a map would come handy, so you drew it on some clean papers you found lying around, loving not to get lost anymore. You hadn’t been face-to-face to one of his creations yet, just saw them on the production lines on the overview of the factory and on some specific rooms. You also avoided it due to fear.

He told you where the wing to be cleaned was and you found it after an hour. It was so incredibly packed with mechanical parts that you could barely come inside to take a look. Huffing, you thought that he could solve that without moving a muscle. It made you mad, but also made you wonder what you were doing there. You cleaned it anyway, as it was your duty and used that waste to build some minor projects.

At the end of your expedient, your hands were orange because of the rusty irons you were moving all day long and you had little cuts here and there, but nothing really bad. As it was going, it wouldn’t take long for you to finish cleaning and could even decorate it for him, making it feel more like home to you too.

You were liking it there. Of course, it was dusty, grey, sometimes rusty and hot all the time, but it was also very different from everything. Once you said goodbye to the cabins, then to the Village and maybe being away from Miranda’s dominance made you feel lighter.

You found some red fabric lying around somewhere, appearing to be forgotten, made some nature sketches on blank papers and put yellow lights on the bedroom and on Karl’s soon-to-be new working room. It looked cosy. You hoped he would appreciate it when he met the reformed wing, until then, you would keep quiet not to bother him.

Though, shortly after you finished decorating the bedroom, an event destroyed your plans of avoiding Heisenberg. On your daily route to what you would now call your wing, you crossed the kitchen and found an overcoat-less Karl trying to prepare a sandwich. He had any chef’s nightmare happening in that place. There were blunt knives flying around, a metal cup chasing the kettle spilling hot coffee all over the floor as he tried to open a bottle of whiskey and, finally, hot coffee hit Heisenberg’s chest and he screamed and cursed like a sore animal.

“FUCK!” He thundered, his word echoing in the corridor where you stood.

You couldn’t ignore that scene even if you tried. You were getting tired of not talking to him, you lived together now and all your few friends were slowly becoming distant memories. You would be happy to hear his voice, something else than gears rumble, even if it was cursing your predecessors.

As a powerful person, he would try to use his powers to do simple things and do a real mess instead. You felt compelled to give him some support, maybe it was a part of your mother’s care for others that lived in you too. You entered the kitchen headstrong, holding a laugh at his misery looks. Now he was stroking his shirt with a cloth and only noticed you when you were getting around the island.

You didn’t know, however, he never “never noticed” you. He felt your presence at the corridor before you saw him and he felt ashamed of you seeing him failing at a stupid task, and so forth his reaction was to be boorish.

“What?” He asked in a rude tone.

“Just let me help.” You offered, placing your hand in the air between you two. It wasn’t really an offer, you were just being polite, you would help him one way or another, you would have your small talk, but he wouldn’t give up so easily. “Please.” You asked, making the sweeter voice you could.

He huffed and threw the wet cloth on the sink. You took another cloth from one of the drawers – you were getting used to the utensils’ places –, wet it a little with water and looked at him, your head slightly tilted to the right.

“What is it, kitten?” Heisenberg questioned, roughly playful then.

“It is your shirt.” You pointed.

“Yes, it is dirty. Weren’t you trying to help?” He started to lose patience.

“Yeah, I am. It is just… You will have to take it off.” You let it out unpretentiously, although in your mind you were revengeful.

“Oh.” He understood and immediately took it off with so much easiness you wondered how many times he did that when you were so uncertain of it at your first day.

You had never seem him shirtless. To be quite sincere, you hadn’t seen many shirtless men in your life. The Village was a very cold town, once it was deep into a forest in the mountains, so even in the summer there wasn’t a hot weather, so people tended to keep their clothes on. Because of this, when he took it off you instantly blushed at his scarred chest.

He has what you would call a dad body. It isn’t really sinewy, although still very strong with thick arms and defined muscles. He has some belly, which means he isn’t a skinny person, but he isn’t fat also. And maybe you took too long looking at him like that and feeling weird feelings you would think about later that night.

“You’re almost drooling there, buttercup.” He teased you and when you quickly, but gently, started cleaning his chest with the cloth, so you wouldn’t have to answer, he gave up a deliciously loud laugh.

You laughed with him, making him laugh even harder. You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked it, this casual connection between you two. The laugh died a gradual death and you started moving you hand on his chest, feeling its warmth below the cloth. You could almost swear his breathing was getting faster and you saw he was biting his lips, maybe because you were taking too long. You didn’t want to finish, but you both know there wasn’t much coffee on him anyway.

You put the cloth with the other one in the sink and as you watered them, you saw him going to get his shirt that had been laying on the island.

“No, no, no.” You said, taking it from his hands kind brusquely, making him confused. “I need to wash these.”

“I see.” He said, raising his hands to show he wouldn’t try again, as a peace offer that made you grin.

“I can finish your sandwich for you, it will only take a minute.” You added, embarrassed to be so bossy with him.

“I will be at my office.” He told you and left without looking back.

You thought he got mad at you because of the shirt situation. It made you sad, you started having a nice approach. To compensate you made him a really good sandwich with the meat and vegetables you found in the refrigerator. Searching for food there you considered asking him to go see the Duke and buy supplies, maybe even hunt, because you didn’t have enough provisions. Anyway, you also prepared the coffee, poured a glass of cowboy whisky – sipped one, two or three times yourself – and cleaned what was there to be cleaned. It took more than one minute, but less than teen.

You were heading to his office when you heard a muffled noise. It sounded guttural and made you shiver. Electricity running through your body, making you feel hopelessly exposed, only that countered by the alcohol it felt good. You stepped carefully as you got closer to the door. You considered not knocking, but the noise made you knock.

“Just…” He gasped. “Leave it at the door, please.” Heisenberg was painting, but he asking “please” was what made up your mind, that politeness wasn’t usual, so you did what he requested.

You wanted to be around him on that day, but chose to respect his privacy. You didn’t imagine that his mind was blowing with you, he desperately wanted to continue the kitchen talk, but couldn’t give himself the chance once he was so close to perfecting the Soldats.

To ease your thoughts, as you were no longer requested at the factory, you tested your stealth skills and slipped to the forest behind it, caring your bow and arrows determinedly.

You were familiar with that area as you have hunted all around the Village, thus, you knew where to go to find good preys. It was by the lake were the deer stopped to drink water. It was far from the factory entrance, but again, you knew exactly what you were doing. When approaching the lake, you climbed a tree and waited.

It didn’t take long until a lonely deer appeared, unsuspicious. It leaned its head so it could reach the water level and started drinking it. You positioned one arrow, held your breath and did the physics magic. The arrow nailed its left eye. It didn’t scream, it was over very quickly.

You climbed the tree down, came closer to the body and tied it with the rope you brough from the factory. Your way back wasn’t effortless, you were slower due to the extra weight and the lycans sensed its blood, their sounds were all around you. They wouldn’t hurt your, though, somehow, they knew you were with Heisenberg.

It was past four in the afternoon when you reached the factory, panting with the effort of bringing the deer. Heisenberg was poking around for something in his front yard. He noticed you just as you appeared in his peripherical vision. He walked towards you, with an intrigued expression that transformed into an impressed one when he saw the deer.

“Some gifts you have there, kitten, ain’t gonna lie.” He commented, squatting to take a good look at the animal. “How did you do that?” It was clear he didn’t mean to offend, quite the opposite, he was genuinely curious.

“A girl has her secrets.” You answered, when you finally stop panting, shrugging when internally you are fulfilled someone knew about you hunting and didn’t seem mad at you.

He wasn’t even angry you left the factory without his permission, which made you happier. He stood below you with the animal for a few seconds more, than got up on his feed, laid his hands on your shoulders, well, on your skin hunting jacket, and said “You are really something, kitten.”

You fell for his words. You never wanted to feel that dependant on someone’s appreciation for you, but with him it was lighter. Karl took the weight of the world off your shoulders by bringing you there and kind off supporting you even though you had only spent little more than a month together.

“Thank you, my lord.” You spoke.

“Stop it. Call me Karl.” He said roughly, but good hearted. “Now, do you know how to clean this deer?” Heisenberg asked.

Usually, Duke would do it for you, although you knew the theory, you hadn’t much practice.

“I was hoping you could help me with it, Karl.” You suggested, toasting him a malicious smile.

“For fuck’s sake.” But he cursed laughing.

He cleaned this table at the garage and disposed the deer there. You helped him doing the messy job, learning with him what you only saw the Duke doing. It wasn’t pretty, but you were comforted by his presence and obstinacy. He probably did it often as it showed, but didn’t bother to take it slower so he could teach you.

Heisenberg enjoyed that night more than you could imagine. He didn’t care for the Soldats, they could wait, it was nice being around you for a change, not running away from your hair, your smile, your presence. For the first time in his life, he actually had someone who wanted to be around him.

Later your prepared venison, demi-glace, potatoes, a fresh arugula salad and both of your enjoyed dinner at the kitchen island with bottles of dark beer. He was funny, he was tripping over words a little, due to the alcohol, but his stories, oh man… He was a real brat. You told him about the cabins and the hunting. He listened carefully, never judging you and laughed at your silly manners, at your etiquette and, over all, loved your cook.

He slept in the bed with you, tired, amused and drunk, he sunk in his dreams. You stayed up a bit longer, resisting your lazy eyes temptations just to appreciate his scent, it would smell like burned wood.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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philliamwrites · 3 years

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One Fool’s Heart [Rank 4]

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira / Reader, later: Akira / Akechi (one-sided)

Warnings: age difference, consensual underage romance, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, references to depression, unreliable narrator, angst, hurt & comfort, p3 cameos, p4 cameos, no persona 5 royal spoilers

Summary: All you wanted was a nice part time job to scrape by. But if you had known how much of a smug sass-master Akira Kurusu would turn out to be, you’d have thought twice about agreeing to tutor him.

Notes: Rank 3 | Rank 5 Masterlist

[Rank 4]

[you]: We still need to talk about what happened.

[you]: I can see you’re reading this.

[you]: You can’t just ignore me.

The clear lack of response is evidence enough that yes, your dad can ignore you, and he is very motivated to do so. Even a whole month after the incident, he’s still avoiding you like a contagious disease, the exact opposite from your mother who clings to you like a very persistent octopus, demanding you to call her every day. It does the exact opposite from calming your nerves, and unlike anything before it draws Narukami’s suspicion like a beacon. You didn’t want to, but to redirect his attention, you used the only strategy you knew would hit him critically: You called him Yuu. Hearing his first name for the very first time, Narukami looked like you were trying to sell him drugs.

“Who are you, and where is the real one?” he’d asked, face blank of expression, but his eyes had betrayed him, lighting up with joy that had squeezed your heart to walnut size. After four years, it’s long due, especially when it took you only a couple of weeks to reach that level of closeness with Akira. Though Akira shouldn’t be the touchstone for a delicate business like this. You’ve learnt Akira is someone people open up to dangerously quickly. His little, honest smiles are keys unlocking every door; whenever he throws his head back and laughs, people stop breathing for the tiniest seconds and stare, mesmerised and with a world full of possibilities opening up before them. It leaves you with a very strange feeling, one that warms your chest, but at the same time scares you to inspect it more closely, because the answer will surely lead to forbidden territory. Already you know that what you feel towards Akira isn’t something you can easily look past or ignore. The realisation came slowly, but in the end inevitable like sand running down in an hourglass. The fact that you can relax around him in ways you don’t even dare to do while hanging out with other friends has become very suspicious to you. Especially since you’ve started hanging out in his attic a couple of weeks ago. The puzzled look Boss sends your way whenever you pass him before heading upstairs weighs just as much as the demanding one of the young fortune telling lady in Shinjuku trying to guilt trip you into buying more of her self made lucky soaps you really don’t need more of as one of your drawers is already close to bursting with how many you’ve squeezed inside. You’re pretty sure Boss is onto you, but for some reason he hasn’t called the Child Protective Service yet, and stupid as you are, you’re pushing your luck further. Which of course doesn’t solve your problem at all.

Learning little personal things about Akira feels like opening the Pandora’s box. You’ve learnt he has this weird habit of asking Morgana questions and looking at him with a serious face expecting an answer before he remembers you’re in the same room and talking to a cat isn’t considered a normal thing— and still, that doesn’t leave him flustered; you’re not sure Akira even knows that word, because he just laughs, shakes his head, and then proceeds like nothing happened. According to his book shelf, he’s quite well-read. You spy cultural magazines about movies and theatres, books about language of flowers, efficient time management and fishing. Novels by authors from different countries build a wall on the highest rack, their familiar names and titles a welcome distraction from whenever Akira does something that requires you intensely staring at his face. Breathing for example. His room is littered with little discreet secrets you try not to dwell on too long like the tools on his work desk or all the dirty laundry covered in strange black goo. All those things don’t change the fact that his room still doesn’t look anything like a place a teenager should occupy. It doesn’t bother Akira, but even so, you occasionally sneak in basic living necessities like a small garbage bin, a pot with tulips, a white piggy bank and a desk lamp. Either Akira accepts everything without commenting or he thinks all this stuff has been there all this time.

Another thing you’ve learnt about Akira is that he does not speak about his past and all the circumstances that lead up to him living in the attic above Leblanc. Once you tried to ask indirectly about that, but he immediately saw through you and for the rest of the study session you were rewarded with a cool, tight-lipped smile. It’s just as much of a delicate topic as the relationship with your family, and sometimes you can imagine the baggage you both are carrying with every secret weighing on your shoulders, clearly visible and yet both of you refuse to talk about it and choose to ignore the blatant obstacles you both stumble over rather than work together to put them away. Ignoring problems has always been one of your special traits you’re unrivalled at, so it’s no surprise that this is your tactics of approach regarding the budding feelings for Akira. And just like that, a chance to put you miles away from facing what exactly you feel towards him comes sooner than expected. Talk about an upcoming party has slithered around the campus for a couple of days and you’ve planned your complete week just around it so you can go and get mindlessly drunk. You leave the dormitory around 8. After a day spent going through your texts and revising notes, you depart without a guilty conscious, especially with exams approaching steadily. On your way to Ginza you get some additional booze, scrolling through messages from Narukami who tells you to come around if you miss the last train. It’s so sweet, especially because you know he isn’t a big fan of those parties. He probably knows what you’re up to and yes, one-night stands certainly don’t belong to your proudest moments, but right now you want to think of anything but Akira or that your dad still owes you an explanation you know he will give you wrapped up nicely in lies.

The location this time is inside a shared apartment of two of your fellow students. Atsui and Samui, prodigy twins known for their mean serves, finally celebrate their birthday and oh boy, it is going to be a wild one. As kids from two highly esteemed doctors, their apartment is everything you wish for, and if you wouldn’t have dignity, you’d probably leech off your parents’ money as well. Their entrance area is bigger than your kitchen. Someone pushes a plastic cup with beer in your hand, then sends you into the lion’s den with an encouraging, little push. A gigantic table in the middle of the room is already surrounded by students playing beer pong, screaming at each other. The majority of the assembled already has had a few drinks judging from the hollering. The music blasts with a deep bass vibrating through your whole body as you slither around groups of people, receiving greeting claps on your shoulder here and bone braking hugs there.

The superficiality of it all is the appeal, the sole motivation driving you to join these gatherings. Empty promises and half felt concerns are exactly what you crave right now, the sheer lack of emotional responsibility towards these people that will forget everything you say the next morning. It fills you with a strange feeling, like you’re floating in a bubble, separated from everyone without fearing they’ll pop it and expose you. It’s safe and easy, maybe lazy but exactly what you need right now.

You look for familiar faces, and find one immediately, though it doesn’t exactly make you jump in joy. On the other end of the room you notice Tadashi, a guy you’ve met during one of your very rare visits to a college sport course in your first semester. Somehow you managed to stay in contact after all those years, and now he greets you by throwing a chicken wing in your direction. It lands with a splat at the wall behind you. You flip him off.

Unsurprisingly, after too many rounds of drinking games, you end up in his apartment somewhere in Akihabara. You’ve barely passed the door when Tadashi’s hands find their way on your hips and in your hair, his mouth draws a hot path from your lips to your neck where they find a spot to settle and mark. Caged between a wall and his warm body, your fingers impatiently tug at his shirt until it’s off, landing forgotten somewhere on the ground. Tadashi’s training pays off, he easily swipes you up, pulling your legs around his waist. Seconds later you land on his bed, bouncing and giggling. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the intimate warmth of another body, every nerve is on fire and tense with expectation. Once things really go down, it becomes difficult to focus on him when your mind is occupied with something— someone else. The body on you changes into a dead weight pressing down on you, lips scrapping your skin. Fingers inside you try to bring you over the edge only to let you fall alone, alone and what usually feels like an exciting trip is suddenly a rollercoaster ride you want to get over with as soon as possible.

His fingers travel from your neck to your chin, your cheeks and he conducts your face to the side to plaster kisses all over your jaw and that moment changes everything. You notice his slender, long fingers caressing your skin, working you apart from inside and they remind you of a different set of fingers, just as long and slender— and that’s your breaking point.

The sound of a water boiler wakes you from a foggy dream. It takes a moment to remember where you are, the dozen faces of American musicians in posters on unfamiliar walls watching your every move as you get up and throw a blanket around your body. An off key hum lures you into the kitchen, where slim rays of sunshine draw blurry lines on the ground. It’s enough to make you squint and groan, the light too much for your eyes and hangover mind still trying to put together the images from last night.

In front of the counter top, Tadashi is standing barefoot, preparing coffee. When he notices your frowning face, he offers you a cigarette with a crooked grin. Usually, you’d decline, but since everything has been going downhill lately, you succumb and indulge in one. The nicotine soothes your nerves to a straight line, allowing to hold up an easy conversation despite how awkward you expected it to be.

“You really thought the plot line was good?” Tadashi raises an eyebrow at you, thumbing on his iPhone in search for a summary of the TV show you’ve both seen. The ash hangs dangerously at the tip of his cigarette, but you can’t find an ashtray. “It feels like there are a thousand plot holes.”

“Well, it’s not like it has to make lots of sense? It’s a kid’s show?” The lack of immediate response tells you he thinks differently, but somehow you still feel smug about it, and take another sip from your coffee. That is until Tadashi, way too casually, asks, “By the way, who’s Akira?”

You stare at him. Tadashi stares back. The only thing you manage is a stupid, “Huh?”

The corners of Tadashi’s mouth jump. He leans back against the counter, his slim hips resting against the edge as he slurps his coffee unnecessarily loud like he wants to prove something. “Hey, I’m not judging. Just curious about the lucky fella.”

“You mean—,” you start, but no matter how you think about continuing, you know it’ll just get worse. “You’re not saying I—”

Tadashi’s grin widens. “Oh, you did. It was like—,” he curls his fingers into a fist and then snaps them open like an explosion, “you became a lot more excited, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh God, this isn’t really happening,” you groan, pressing your palms against your eyes. If you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and you’re saved from an embarrassing conversation. But Tadashi has the complete opposite in mind and instead of remaining silent during your mental breakdown, he probes further, “So, do I know him?”

God, you hope he doesn’t. Anything else would mean the end of you. But you can’t say it’s impossible for him to know Akira because he’s still in high school, so instead you settle on a vague truth. “No, he’s someone from work. By the way, did you read Lahey’s text? Can I get your notes? Cool, thanks!” You flee to his room, ignoring the blank expression he throws at you that clearly shows how bad you are at changing topics. Inside, you quickly dress even though you’re in desperate need of a shower. Judging from how hot you feel, your face must be on fire.

Thousand thoughts stumble through your brain, each full of knots and no loose threads in sight, so you don’t even know where to start. Thinking about Akira is one thing. Imagining having sex with him should put you in prison. Hypothetically speaking, if this is a crush, and here you shudder because crushes are for teenagers, how can it escalate so quickly? To be fair, yes you were drunk, so maybe that shouldn’t count, but the images of him towering above you, his grey sly eyes eating you up while his mouth maps your body— it’s all too clear, the lines too sharp. This can’t happen again, you won’t allow it.

Thankfully, Tadashi doesn’t say anything else when you return. You exchange goodbyes, mentioning meeting up some time again soon, but you both know that won’t happen, and that’s fine. The foundation of your relationship is based on on and off meetings that are just perfect because there is no expectations, no promises to keep. It’s easy because you both avoid complications, and that somehow makes Tadashi the perfect boyfriend candidate. Well, not for you, but there’s certainly someone out there for him.

On your way home, you still think about the night and what it might mean for the future. How are you supposed to look Akira in the eyes and not be reminded of how you shamelessly moaned his name. The challenge becomes unexpectedly harder when your phone vibrates with a message. Akira’s name blinks in white letters, leaving you with a dreadful feeling in your stomach.

[Akira]: this is an emergency

[Akira]: mayday, mayday

[Akira]: call 911

[you]: What

[Akira]: help, send help! i got two cards for cake knight rises! someone has to go with me!

You stare at the message, failing to see the problem. Why doesn’t he ask Ryuji or Ann?

[you]: So ask your friends?

[Akira]: i'm asking u? u r a friend?

He really shouldn’t be able to make your heart jump with such simple sentences, and yet it stumbles in your chest like a hiker on foreign terrain.

[you]: When?

[Akira]: is that a yes??

[you]: Depending on when. I’m supposed to teach you stuff, or did you forget?

[Akira]: let’s consider it a field trip

[you]: How about we don’t and just go about it the same as always?

[Akira]: objection

[you]: Denied.

[Akira]: :(

[Akira]: why so mean? i deserve a reward after nailing my finals.

[you]: And I deserve a pay raise, but we don’t always get what we want.

[Akira]: as the gentleman that i am, i'll even pay for your popcorn

[you]: Sold. As long as we don’t end up in one of those late night screenings and the police make me responsible for dragging a minor around at this hour.

[Akira]: sounds illegal. i'm in.

[you]: Akira, no.

[Akira]: akira yes

Saying No to Akira is harder than backflipping from the second floor without breaking your ankles, and you’re sure he knows you can’t resist him any longer judging from how he’s spamming please for the next thirty seconds, and after that an additional twenty more with thanks after you finally agree. After deciding where to meet, you hurry home to take a shower and change into new clothes. There’s still some time left, so you check your messages. Apart from the usual suspects, a.k.a your mom, some fellow students and Narukami, Iori also send you a notification with a link, urging you to check out a fan page of a big cosplay group. But when the site finally loads, it’s the actual Phan-Site of the Phantom Thieves, filled with dozens discussion forums and comments. Right at the top is a red bar, above a question that makes you frown: [Are the Phantom Thieves just?]

Now that you think about it, you haven’t heard from them since the incident with Madarame back in May. Two months have passed, and they feel more like a distant childhood memory rather than the latest breaking news covered by every TV channel. You wonder what they’re up to, or if they’re still around, and judging from some users, they’re also unsure about their whereabouts. At least one question you can answer pretty easily, and that is a big No on them being just. Whatever tricks they pull to make the people confess, it doesn’t put them above the law or allow them to go on with their unorthodox methods. Hopefully the police can get some leads on them and things will settle down once they’re locked up.

Once it’s finally time to go, you’re actually relieved to get outside again and take a break from your readings, the black letters starting to merge into one indistinguishable shape in front of you.

Shibuya is surprisingly calm for the evening hour, ignoring all the students gathering after school. The slowly approaching heat wave the weather forecasts warn about starts showing in shorter skirts, thinner clothes and dozens of pony tails bouncing from left to right. You wait at the meeting point, a small alley leading to an airsoft shop, when someone calls your name, and you look up, expecting to see Akira. He either went through a facial surgery during the last couple of days you haven’t seen him, or that man dressed in a cheap suit with a slim chin and sunken in cheeks approaching you right now is someone entirely different. Your brain fails to see how or why this guy knows your name, when he reaches you and grins like a maniac salesman trying to get rid of some shady goods.

“Interested in making easy money? No questions asked, no names. Lots of cash.” A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing. It feels like a noose around your neck.

This isn’t really happening, is it? Dumbfounded, you stare at his hand, then his face, outweighing the benefits of either punching or kicking him. Hookers offering girls jobs isn’t a rare thing in Shibuya, but in broad daylight? He’s either really desperate or really full of himself, but the little detail that makes everything a lot more absurd is that he knows your name and it sends cold shivers down your spine.

“Okay, I’ll give you two seconds to take your hands off me, or I will put my shoe through your face,” you warn him, succeeding to sound a lot braver than you feel. Warning bells go off in your head when he doesn’t move. You shrug his hand off, and take one nice big step away, but he follows you and closes the distance like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole.

“How the fuck do you know me,” you say, now unable to stop the panic from seeping into your voice. The man laughs; a sharp, unpleasant sound easily drowned in the buzzing chatter of people walking past the alley, totally unaware of what’s happening in there.

“We know everything about you,” he says with a lazy smile, digging a bony finger just under your collarbone. “Your name, where you live. Unlucky for you, you’re all buddy buddy with the wrong people.”

You don’t even know that many, and from those you call friends none strike you as people acquainted with the dark side of Tokyo. Which really makes you wonder how they even know about your existence in the first place.

The man drags his eyes to a spot behind you, and when he leans in, you smell the sour odour of booze and nicotine. “Tell Kurusu he better has our Boss’s money ready due or he’ll find his friends’ numbers in our booking register.” With a greasy smile, he vanishes in the shadows between the skyscrapers, leaving you with spinning thoughts of What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck, until someone grabs your arm and yanks you out of the back alley. The worst scenarios run in high speed resolution through your head, but you gasp in relieve when you see it’s just Akira’s familiar face looming over you, quickly followed by a screeching “What the fuck?!” and a punch to his arm.

At least Akira doesn’t look like he’s offended; no, it seems that he’s anticipated something like that, and you realise he must have seen you with the hooker.

“What was that? What money? In what shady business are you involved?” There are too many questions, but Akira per usual talks too little to give you all the answers. Right now, he just looks over your head to where the man disappeared, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t read because it’s something you’ve never associated with Akira before: Danger. A shadow jumps across his eyes, dark enough to dim the grey, smooth surface and turn it into a charcoal storm. Somewhere in the back of your head you register his finger tips still pushing too hard into your skin, but the pain is swallowed by this intense feeling of anxiety and worry. Akira remains silent and pulls you deeper into the light flooded streets of Shibuya, where people laugh and enjoy their time regardless of what you’ve just been through.

“Hey, can you talk to me?” you call to Akira, but he keeps his eyes trained on an invisible path before him, his mouth pressed into a thin, white line. “Hey, Kurusu.” You pull your arm back, he tightens his grip in return, and for the first time you wonder if he is choking on his secrets just as much as you are.

“Kurusu,” you try again, then softer, “Akira.”

Finally, he slows down and turns around. The fire in his eyes is gone, replaced by a dim light that is lost in the reflection of his glasses.

“Come on.” It’s your turn to guide him now, gently pulling at his hand. You find a narrow alleyway with vending machines standing side by side like colourful soldiers. Armed with two canned coffees, you sit beside Akira on a narrow railing, and place the cool can on his thigh until he finally takes it from you. The silence grows into a palpable entity with fangs ready to strike, so you wait until Akira is ready to face it, lying to yourself that whatever he is going to tell you, it won't be that bad.

After what feels like an eternity, Akira shifts slightly so his knees face towards you, and just like his body opens up to you, so does his mouth. “I kind of got into trouble with the yakuza,” he says with a suspicious lack of emotions. “And now they want three million yen until July 7th.”

Somewhere behind you the beast growls, snarling how much better the silence has been in contrast to whatever this is. But then you realise it’s just a dog barking somewhere on the main street and you exhale slowly.

“Okay, that is…” Insane, suicidal. “That’s crazy. What happened exactly?”

Slowly, Akira raises his eyes. They’re hollow and send a shudder down your spine. “You have your secrets, and I have mine,” he declares.

The way he’s staring at you, guarded and with a raised chin, his shoulders stiff like brittle marble ready to crumble at the tiniest collision, you can see he’s eagerly waiting for you to push him away. The only thing coming to your mind though is, “What kind of an answer is that? And no, don’t turn away from me!” You snatch his chin before he turns his head, digging a thumb into his skin just below his lower lip. Akira parts his lips in a little, silent O. “This is serious, so talk to me.”

Akira considers you for a long moment, somehow perfectly holding still. The only movement comes from his tongue, quickly darting out to lick his lower lip, and you swallow a strange sound threatening to escape your throat.

“You mean just like you talk to me?” he quietly shoots back, blowing a perfect hole in your composed mask. For a second, you’re speechless and your brain is completely void of any decent arguments to show him how those things are completely unrelated. But you’ve waited too long.

The water named reason evaporated and now there’s no way to stop the fuse from burning down.

“If you really think that this is the same as me—” you start, your heart throbbing painfully like a bird trying to escape; too loud, too hard, too much. Just faintly, you’re aware that it isn’t the tip of your thumb against his skin anymore, but your nail digging a sharp, crescent curve into his chin because your fingers are trembling. “— that this is really the same as me refusing to tell you about my parents abusing my brother, then you are wrong. Wrong, and very, very cruel, Akira.”

All your breath leaves your lungs, while Akira’s becomes stuck in his throat. You pull your hand back like he’s burnt you, and on a metaphoric level, he has. You hate him for that, and you hate your body even more because after this, it doesn’t move. The anger overshadows your flight instinct and stays rooted like it wants to fight. You feel like throwing up.

After a whole minute of silence, Akira finally manages a small, dreadful, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Tell me what you did to make the yakuza go after you.”

“I don’t want you getting involved,” he tries and fails to save the situation.

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but judging from what happened there, I am involved already. So, well done.”

Akira pulls his face into a grimace close to a kicked man, left in his burning house without any means to extinguish the fire. It’s so typical for you to turn the play around, to become the one hurting others after being hurt. The feeling of guilt settling inside you isn’t unfamiliar, somehow even sharper this time. Akira leans away and breaks from your hold, running a free hand through his unruly hair. The soft tap tap tap of his foot against the pavement drives you insane.

“That’s why I shouldn’t tell you more. I don’t want things to become worse,” he says and avoids looking at you.

You cross your arms and lean against the cool wall, soaking in the feeling of some sort of grounding and security. “Well, it’s not like I’ll dive head first into some sort of rescue mission. I’m not a cop, and I certainly don’t have any means to get that much money.”

Suddenly, Akira barks a horrible, humourless laugh. It’s like a jagged cut through the image you have of him as the boy you know at the moment. “And here goes my hope that you might be one of the Phantom Thieves, capable of helping me.”

“Akira, stop joking about that,” you say, feeling your irritation return. “They’re not even real.” He shoots you a quick, strange glance, one you doubt you’d be able to decipher even if you had a dictionary solely dedicated to him. “So, are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

You count until ten. Akira keeps staring at a crack on the ground in front of him, its junctions looking much like hands with claws. Just when you made peace with the fact that he won’t answer, Akira finally says, “Our Student Council President is my friend. In trying to do the right thing and help the school’s students, she got into trouble.” You swear if he’s going to say I just wanted to help, you will scream and rip his hair off. “And I just wanted to help,” he closes his vague story, but it’s still enough for you to get the broad picture. You’ve heard about the rumours regarding shady businesses involving high school students around Shibuya, but that the Shujin Academy might be one of the targeted schools hasn’t occurred to you at all— a very naive thought, now that you think about it.

“I hope you do realise now that kindness is a double-edged sword,” you manage, working hard on controlling your breath. It’s just the perfect story fit for someone like Akira; for someone who gives too much and ends up ripped apart. Something that could just as easily happen to Narukami, now that you realise how alike they are, how they both put everyone else above them. Behaviour like this makes you so mad, you want to cry from frustration.

Akira answers with a thoughtful hum. “Is it though?”

“You’re not seriously trying to argue with me about that.”

“I’m not. Maybe you’re right, but I don’t regret it.”

You try to see the crack in his expression, just like the one on the ground. But Akira’s confidence is a solid wall unaffected by your prodding, and something about that positivity robs you of air.

“Why am I not surprised,” you murmur, and to your surprise, Akira gives something close to a little earnest laugh.

“Well, it isn’t the worst that happened to me because I was being nosy,” he admits, leaning back as well now. “But the yakuza, hm … I’m pretty sure that will look great on my resume.”

“Please don’t even think about putting that in it.”

Akira grins, but it’s short lived. He sits straighter, now looking very sternly at you, and you don’t like that look on his face. “Until it’s settled, maybe it would be best for you to avoid Shibuya. Also … maybe we … shouldn’t …” His voice gets quieter and quieter, and you know what he’s going to say next, but before Akira can finish his sentence, you quickly move on.

“What exactly are you going to do?” you ask, the canned coffee long forgotten on the ground beside your feet and only brought back to your attention after you accidentally kick it when you lean forward. “Last time I checked, three million yen don’t just grow on trees.”

“I have a plan,” Akira immediately replies, which makes warning bells go off in your head.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to rob a bank.”

He gives you a crooked grin, part mirth, part malice, but it looks so fake and forced, it makes you cringe. “I would never.”

“Oh, Akira. What the hell is going on.”

Akira answers with a heartbreaking smile. Moments like these make you forget how young Akira actually is. There’s something in his eyes that speaks of experience; in the straight line his mouth tightens into that speaks of hardship. It’s unfair, and you wish whatever happened to him could have waited a couple of years until he’d been ready for it. The ignorance towards a youth’s suffering should be a crime.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be alright,” he offers you at last, though it sounds more like he’s talking to himself. Your arms burn with the desire to give him a nice, tight hug, but you’re not sure if you’ve unlocked that ability in your confidant level yet, so instead you grab his hand and pull him to his feet.

“Okay. You know what, I’m just going to trust you on this,” you say. At least the easiness of lying is something you’ve inherited from your dad. “But if you need a hand, you can give me a call.”

Akira stares at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Yeah, just don’t think you’ll get rid of me that easily,” you say, stretching until your back pops. As weird as it is, somehow you feel a lot better than you maybe should. Akira looks at you with a strange expression, a mix between awe and horror.

“Not gonna lie, I was ready to bet five thousand yen that you’d block my number and never talk to me again,” he says, sheepishly pulling at this bangs.

“Bet?” Your eyebrows go up. “Who lost?”

“Mor—,” he starts, but then shakes his head. “No, it’s just a figure of speech.”

“Huh.” If you knew better, you’d think he was going to say— But no, that’s impossible.

A quick glance down at your watch tells you that the movie has started already, and to be honest, you’re not really motivated to watch it anyway with all the incidents today. Actually, you’d really rather go home and sleep a night on everything you’ve just heard. Just as you want to say that to Akira, he’s suddenly looming above you, and you flinch back, trying to remember if you heard the tiniest sound of him approaching.

“By the way, you got something on your neck,” Akira says, and before you can react, he’s leaning right into your personal space and rubs just above the spot where your turtleneck shirt barely covers the hickey Tadashi oh so graciously left the previous night, that prick. Your eyes widen and you give a pathetic sounds just as he notices that it’s not just some smudge, and slowly his hand falls back to his side.

“Oh,” he says weakly, the sound strangely hollow. “It’s not a—”

“No,” you say, uselessly covering it with a hand and turning your head away from him. The previous night drops down on you like a crushing waterfall, the phantom feeling of Akira's hands on your body and his piercing eyes telling silent stories you can only dream about. “It’s uhm …”

“It’s a—,” Akira starts, but doesn’t finish. Instead he takes a step away from you and kneads the back of his neck. “I think I have to go.”

“Oh.” Now you feel really stupid. “Yeah, I think me too.”

“Okay.” Akira exhales slowly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah,” you offer, but Akira has already turned around and left, his long legs carrying him with the speed of light out of the alley. You remain there a couple of seconds, just starring at the place he’s just been standing, trying not to think too hard about how your skin burns where his fingers just touched you. Your way home you label Walk of Shame.

The door to your apartment is already unlocked. Which could mean means two things: Either Iori is broke again and is scavenging your fridge, or someone is desperate enough trying to rob a student’s place. With your phone in your hand ready to call the cops, like that’s something you needed additionally to today’s revelations, you open the door and carefully enter your apartment. The light is on. No sound comes from your kitchen, so it can’t be Iori, but once you’re inside and stand on the threshold to your living room, you wish it were him instead of the person sitting on your couch.

“You wanted to talk?” your father says instead of a greeting. “Then let’s talk.”

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #reader insert #persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #persona 5 joker #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya x reader #persona 5 joker x reader #reader

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chaoschaoswriting · 2 years

Note

I don't know what POV to use for my new story - is 3rd person always best? can I switch between them for different characters?

Hey!

I'm going to be honest, Nonny, this is something I often struggle with too. I've got a blog post that generally sums up the different POVs used in writing fiction, as well as posts about the pros and cons of each individual POV (they're linked in the over-arching blog post). So if you want a more in-depth consideration, I'd recommend you check them out!

However, if you just want a general overview of my opinion here it is. I'm going to break up the answer into two parts, one for each question.

Is 3rd Person Always Best?

No - I don't think 3rd person is always the best choice, nor is it the only choice. What I will say is that it is generally the most popular POV and it's often treated as the POV that 'serious' writers use by literary snobs.

I don't think that's fair.

If I had to summarize my thoughts it would be this: 3rd person is best for stories where you have a whole mess of characters and a complex plot structure. This is because it's a little easier to note when you're changing character (without doing the whole named chapter thing) and because it's very easy to thread in details about the wider story.

However, if your story focuses entirely or mostly on one character and is centred around their feelings, 1st person could be the POV for you.

2nd person is a viable choice, no matter what anyone says, but you will have to fight against the prevailing opinion if you use it; many people are not a fan of it and will go so far as to avoid reading books that use it.

Can You Switch POVs When Writing?

I see no reason why you can't.

Like so much in writing, there are those who will tell you that you should never do this and those who say there are no hard and fast rules. I'm in the latter camp. I don't care what you do, as long as its done well - and I think many readers are the same.

Switching POVs between characters could be a good way to distinguish them or highlight the unique nature of their personal experience.

A few words of caution; be consistent in your switching, avoid switching midchapter/scene, and ask yourself if you're doing it because it's effective or because you think it's different. There's no right reason to write a certain way, but don't let aesthetics undermine what you're trying to create.

Side Note: How to Decide What POV to Use

This is a real doozy for some people, me included. If you're stuck, I would suggest asking yourself these questions:

Do I want readers to focus on the character or the plot?

How important is the wider world to telling this story?

How many characters do I need to hear from to tell the full story?

Do I want to create an unreliable narrator?

Which POV appeals to me most?

Hope this helps!

My ask box is currently open - if you found this post helpful you can support me by reblogging or liking this post, subscribing to my Vocal Media channel, or buying me a KoFi.

#answered #pov #writing tips #writing advice #1st person pov #3rd person

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heckyeahponyscans · 3 years

Video

youtube

Yeloli Watch Party!

Season 1, Episode 5: Solitary Shelly

English translation

We start with Shelly heading down the alley, following the magic flower petals to the Yeloli Doll Shop.

The end of the alley is incredibly narrow and the shop is in a cul-de-sac. I love this little detail. A cut off, quiet space in an urban environment--now that is how you set up magic.

Shelly is drawn to the doll shop, which still has Loli in the window, whoops. (Maybe she’s just visiting.)

Heading into the shop, Shelly meets Evelyn and tells her the dolls are beautiful.

Shelly also talks about how lonely she is; her studies and extra lessons mean she has no time to make friends and her parents are rarely home. She has quite a lot of dolls at home, but they aren’t the same as a friend.

Evelyn says these dolls can be a friend. But a doll and owner much mutually choose each other before leaving the shop.

Then Evelyn uses her magic to open the doll cabinets. This lady is not circumspect, but I guess she doesn’t have to be.

So when I first saw this scene I thought it was weird how unsettling it was, instead of being a magic moment of awe for Shelly. Then I translated the subtitles and you won’t believe what happened next (not clickbait).

What you are seeing here is a bunch of dolls rejecting Shelly.

“She’s rich, I’ll bet she’s a spoiled girl.”

“She’s proud and indifferent, not my choice.”

“Didn’t she say she had some dolls already? She would ignore me.”

And Shelly can hear all this, mind you. Like, wow dolls. You could just say “no thanks”, you don’t have to roast the poor girl.

So after all that Evelyn says, “I’m sorry, no one chose you.” and Shelly says, “Even dolls don’t want to be my friend. :( “

But then, just as Shelly is resigning herself to a life of loneliness, a mysterious voices says, “I will be your friend! Only a perfect girl like you is allowed to be my owner. I will make you happy!”

The voice is coming from a magic peacock feather, which leads Shelly down the hall. (The animation on the peacock feather is phenomenal.)

Following the feather, Shelly enters a room full of more dolls, including a peacock themed one, who Evelyn introduces as . . . Peacock!

This doll is significant in that it’s the only that really got me interested in Yeloli dolls. What a beautiful design.

Anyway, Shelly and Peacock have a conversation--like, astrally, in a floaty magical liminal space--and Peacock kicks it off by saying, “Hi. I choose you.” If only Ash had had it this easy with Pikachu.

Evelyn brings Shelly back to reality and tells her, “Peacock is stubborn and arrogant at times. The other dolls think she is proud and indifferent, but actually she is very lonely.”

Of course Shelly immediately identifies with this.

Unlike Mary, Shelly has plenty of money so she asks to buy Peacock. But Evelyn doesn’t sell dolls. Evelyn makes magic contracts from magic books.

Books that already have your personal info in them! (Shelly asks how Evelyn knew her name and Evelyn says, “A doll told me.” Nice.)

I think the Yeloli contract thing is supposed to tie-in to the brochure that comes with the dolls, which has a space for kids to write their names, like the adoption certificate that used to come with Pound Puppies.

Anyway, Shelly agrees to the terms (being sole owner of the doll and never giving it away) and she happily leaves the store with Peacock.

At least she’s happy until she gets back to the car, where the driver frets that she missed her piano lesson. Give the kid a break, she was getting a magic doll.

Shelly returns home, where she is sad to find she is returning to an empty house . . . again. Her workaholic parents are never home, and she dreams of returning to the simpler days where they . . . ate whole turkeys together.

It’s especially devastating that they’re missing today . . . on her BIRTHDAY! Dun dun dun!

So Shelly is crying on her bed, sobbing “I wish my parents would come home”, and oh hey there’s a wish-granting fairy in earshot.

Almost instantly there’s the sound of the front door--it’s Shelly’s Dad! Followed a minute later by Shelly’s Mom!

A couple things about this scene:

At first I was nervous that Peacock had magicked up fake replacement parents but no, they’re Shelly’s real mom and dad.

Peacock cancelled Dad’s meeting and Mom’s rehearsal to get them to come home. Which is, uh, very utilitarian but kind of depressing that the parents weren’t motivated by suddenly remembering their daughter’s birthday or something.

Finally, I’m picking up some tension in the marriage.

Like, when Mom comes through the door this is Shelly’s expression.

And this is dad’s expression.

Then Shelly happily grabs them by the hands, but I can’t help but notice the parents are physically distant from each other and there’s a painting in the background that symbolically makes it look like there’s a big rift between them.

Time will tell if I’m reading too much into this!

For now, they are going to enjoy the cake that Shelly’s mom picked up. You can tell China has different copyright laws because they sing the entirety of “Happy Birthday” (in Chinese, but same tune).

Shelly’s mom tells her to make a wish, and Shelly does. For being a rich kid, her wish is quite modest and attainable: “I would like to make friends at school with my classmates, and also to be able to have ice cream after class.”

Oh wait, it’s not attainable at all because Shelly’s mom is fucking furious. How DAAAARE Shelly want to socialize and have a life?? Her destiny is to practice the piano at all waking hours so she can become a famous concert pianist like her mother.

Shelly immediately capitulates because she’s clearly used to having her dreams crushed.

Is the dad going to challenge this viewpoint? No, he also wants Shelly to become a famous concert pianist and he gives her a piano music box for her birthday. Go to hell, Shelly’s dad.

Shelly at least likes the music box and takes it to her bedroom where she reflects that she’s very happy that her parents came home early.

“But how did they get home so quickly? It's as if a fairy had granted my wish.”

From her box Peacock says, “Yes, it was me”, to which Shelly’s like “HWHAAAT? I hear a VOICE??”

I really don’t get this; Peacock has talked to Shelly multiple times already.

We finish off with the narrator asking us, the audience, who’s talking to Shelly. We know who’s talking to Shelly, narrator!! Get it together!

#Yeloli Watch Party #night lolita #dolls #Yeloli #Yeluoli #Shelly #Peacock #long post

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trashboatprince · 3 years

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I finished the audiobook for Good Omens!

Here’s some stuff about it, if you wanna know, along with things I enjoyed about it.

-Crowley sounds both tired and jumpy through the majority of this, and that’s very fitting of how he is in the book. He’s a snarky snake, but he also is anxiety-ridden and we all know how we sound when like that

-However, maybe it’s because I’ve listened to a number of David’s Tenth Doctor audio adventures over the past few months, but there are moments where Crowley doesn’t quite sound like Crowley, he sounds more like Ten. I mean, yeah, same actor and all, and sort of the same accent, but Crowley always sounds different to me compared to Ten, but there are a few moments in here where I feel like I’m listening to Doctor Who adventure then Good Omens.

-What the fuck is up with how he says his final line? Boy, did you lean in and whisper-hiss that into your husband’s ear??? Is that the mood???

-(I might draw this later.)

-The bookshop burning scene was... a weird mix of emotions. He’s still panicked, but it’s an angry panicked, not like how he was in the show, but more of ‘holy fuck, this can’t be real’ kinda angry panic. A bit better than how Radio!Crowley sounded, but the TV version will always be the best version in my opinion.

-tbh I still don’t really know what the feeling is in that scene in the book. It’s hard to get a grasp of Crowley’s emotions about it. I mean, I’ve seen some really good fanart where he is in that unsettling state of panic where he’s blank-faced, or he’s putting on a front but he’s broken, but reading the book makes it really hard to tell. I guess it’s up to how you wanna read it.

-That Fucking Bastard Michael Sheen (affectionate) pulls off ‘I work in customer service, don’t test me’ Aziraphale very well. This is the voice of someone who owns his own business but doesn’t want anyone to buy anything from him ever. He nailed it perfectly, and the bastard tone of book!Aziraphale is brought to life. I think Musical!Aziraphale is still the most bastard, but Michael did a great job.

-His absolute, astonished glee when he finds out he’s on TV after possessing that evangelist is a straight-up highlight of the whole recording

-His ‘oh fuck’ is really funny

-Shadwell sounds like a pirate and it seems very fitting

-I don’t like how The Them sound, they sound too much like adults, so it’s weird. Well, Pepper was fine, but the others sounded much older than 11 year olds should sound. Still, great acting, wrong voices

-Anathema and Newt sound fine, but I especially like Newt because he’s played by Arthur Darvill! Rory Williams! Actually, this isn’t the only audio thing he’s in that involves Michael and David in the cast, he’s Shakespeare in The Sandman, with Michael as Lucifer and David as Loki!

-Madam Tracy continues to be amazing, no matter who plays her

-I LOVE how the Four Horsepersons sound, all of them are fantastic

-The narrator doing the sound effects is just... *chef’s kiss*

-We finally get to hear how ‘Ngk’ sounds, and it’s the sound of someone who just realized he is royally fucked for all eternity and has no way to truly express this, so he just makes a sound.

(David pulled it off because this guy just knows how to make sounds that are keyboard smashes)

-Michael sounded horribly pained and annoyed when he read Aziraphale’s reaction to Crowley pointing out all the things he can’t get in Heaven is beautiful

-This is the third time I get to hear David do the infamous, drunken bookshop scene, and while I personally like his live reading of it the best out of the three, this one sounded hilarious in its own right, mainly because Michael makes it sound like Aziraphale is drunk on the floor while David sounds drunk on the ceiling rather than them sitting across from one another

-David’s ‘Hm!’ when Hell is talking to Crowley after he escaped Hastur and Ligur killed me, I don’t know why

-NANNY AND FRANCIS!!! David and Michael played them again, they didn’t have to, but they did! This is straight-up my favorite moment in the whole recording because I was allowed just a little more content of my favorites! (Yeah, I know it’s just Crowley and Aziraphale, but let me have this..! You all know that my wife is Nanny and I love her husband nearly as much).

-Also, they left in a mistake David made as Nanny.

-The adult playing Warlock as a tiny child will send you for a loop

-The footnotes are read aloud, it’s beautiful

-Aziraphale ending up in other people’s bodies being read out loud is a highlight. It’s already a fun chunk of the book, but to hear Michael be snippy about not being in the right area is hilarious to hear.

-We get to hear David shout at the plants again

-Neil reads the forward!

-I forgot how much of the book sounds like something by Douglas Adams, and I mean that as a compliment.

-The whole Tadfield Manor scene is wonderful, I LOVE how Michael and David sound as Aziraphale and Crowley in this scene

-The Other Four Horsemen! We got them again!

-Angel!

-My dear!!!

-Season two, please, can we have one ‘my dear’??? As a treat???

-Over all, this was a delight, glad I got it! But I’d rate it as a 7/10, same rating I give to the book itself (TV is a 8/10, but the Radio version is a 9/10, still my favorite).

#john's commentary

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Never Satisfied [Teaser]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language (possibly more?)

Collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“this criminal is stealing my fires, what the fuck?!“

Life is a rollercoaster, it always has been. One moment he feels at the top of the world and the very next he’s upside down at the bottom, wishing the ride would come to a stop as soon as possible. Things that shouldn’t be difficult, things average people would consider the norm to him were the equivalent of walking on glass, each step sending shocks of pain throughout his body, anxiety pumping his blood with adrenaline that provoked his fight or flight response. And after choosing ‘fight’ so many times, he’s more than prepared to choose ‘flight’.

But as he sits in the Walmart parking lot, he’s talking himself out of that habit of running from discomfort. He doesn’t want to battle it either, he just wants to face it and prove he’s strong enough to defeat it if he tried. Well, anxiety is laughing in his face right now, mocking him by the shaking of his hands and the tight sensation in his gut and throat. He’s here for what’s supposed to be just a quick shopping trip. Just to buy a few things! That’s all he has to do. However, he can’t bring himself to get out of his beige Subaru and walk into the store.

I’m just hungry, right? Or maybe tired, he thought to himself.

That’s what everyone told him - that anxiety was caused by something simple to solve but hard to realize when your mind is in a frenzy. He’s planning on getting something to eat to calm his nerves. If that doesn’t work, to hell with it. He has been improvising plan B’s all his life, this wouldn’t be anything new.

With a shaky sigh Corpse looks at his radio, switching stations until his luck smiles at him when he comes across a BONES song and turns it up just enough to not overwhelm his senses. He has been needing some kind of a distraction all day, why not gravitate to the one thing that felt real, as if sent to save him from the mess within his head. Putting the car into drive, he pulls out of the parking lot and into the nearest fast food drive thru. A plain burger with cheese so his stomach doesn’t act up, fries and an unsweetened tea.

This will have to do. He isn’t even hungry, and the thought of the greasy food only made his stomach churn worse but he knew he needed to eat something in hopes of it having the effects he was told it would have - magically cure his overwhelmingly hard to handle anxiety.

Once he got his food, he returned to the department store lot and parked in a far back spot. He has opened the paper bag to dig his food out, grimacing at all the grease and the smell of the cheap meal that wasted no time invading his car. He really isn’t hungry, but he hasn’t eaten all day and he’s aware of the toll the lack of food is taking on his system. He knows better than to work against himself in a moment like this when his mind is already working against him.

Chomping down on a fry, Corpse savors the salt as it hits his tongue and takes a moment to let his shoulders loosen and hang low. Something about the salt and fat seemed to make his body feel better. He tosses his head back slightly as he flicks a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes, reaching into the bag and grabbing another fry.

He’s been content with sitting in his car, eating and trying to quell the anxiety bubbling up under his ribs and in his throat. There’s a sense of peace to it and to the loneliness of it. He doesn’t mind being alone, though. That’s how he prefers to be actually. Dwelling on that thought too long has had the tendency to kill even the smallest spec of a positive energy he possessed in the past so he avoids it for his own peace of mind. The feeling of his heart thundering in his chest to nothing more than his own unconscious is being muffled by the soft rap music coming from the car speakers, him having chosen to pay attention to that instead.

Corpse is so engrossed in his attempts of maintaining this peace that he fails to notice the person approaching his car at a rapid pace. He’s left completely unbothered until one of the backseat doors is yanked open and someone is diving inside, shaking the vehicle.

“What th-..” He shouts, startled out of the peaceful bubble he had created around himself.

“Hey, how's it going? Sorry to interrupt your dinner. I'm just avoiding somebody, so don’t mind me!” A slightly out of breath female voice answers from the backseat. But before he could bring himself to turn around and demand this girl get out of his car, fear takes hold of him, closing his throat and drowning his words in the sea of questions and anxiety rising from deep within his chest.

Ok, breathe. This is weird. There’s a stranger in my car, but she doesn’t appear harmful. Just breathe, stay calm. Fuck, is that a fucking cop car?!

His shaky hand is barely capable of holding the burger as his wide eyes follow the movements of the vehicle. The patrol car in question slowly drives through each aisle of the parking lot, seemingly searching for something. Or someone. He feels himself unable to blink nor breath as the car creeps closer and closer. He has already broken into a nervous sweat, head spinning with all the possible outcomes - none of which bode well for him.

How am I gonna explain this shit?! There’s no way they’ll believe that she just dove into my car. They’ll think I’m an accomplice. I’ll go to jail. God knows if I’ll get out. I’ll die in there. Oh fuck, I’ll die in there.

He inhales sharply, trying not to hyperventilate, all his muscles tensing before a slap to his arm shook him out of it, “Could you look any more suspicious?! Fuckin’ act cool!”

He nods automatically and looks down at his lap, like he’s trying to find a napkin before taking a quick sip of his tea in attempts to look natural. The liquid promptly went down the wrong pipe, causing him to choke and go in a fit of coughs which he suppressed with his baggy hoodie sleeve.

The cop passed by, eyeing the man in the car before making a turn to go down another row of parking spots, allowing Corpse to finally peek his gaze upwards to check if the guy was finally gone when the voice in the back seat spoke up again. “Thanks dude, you saved my ass.”

He hadn’t noticed at first but as he turned to look behind him he saw a bare arm reaching from the back seat, dipping into the paper bag and taking one of his fries. Before he could comprehend it, the girl had climbed up over the center console as the police car pulled out of the parking lot and left.

Only now is he able to get a real look at the woman who is a potential criminal and went into his car. She isn’t tall but not short either. She’s wearing a pair of jeans that are ripped around her knees and upper thighs and have little occult symbols drawn on them, peace signs and even an occasional tiny dinosaur - the majority, if not all, probably a DIY project of hers by the looks of it. She’s also sporting a sleeveless top with the sides cut open to show most of her waist. Under that, a black sports bra and a tattoo are visible - the tattoo extending from her back to her ribs just slightly. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a loose and rather messy hairdo, every strand going in its own direction as if she couldn’t be bothered by it. Looking down he sees the pair of black combat boots she has on. They look to be well taken care of and loved. A glint of a septum piercing attracts his attention when he notices it reflecting the ugly yellow light of the parking lot street lamps.

She’s pretty.

His cheeks flush a little in the darkness as he dumps the remainder of his food back into the bag, noting she was taking another one of his fries before he looked away, swallowing nervously when he feels her gaze on him.

Before he could speak, however, she had already taken another one of his fries, leaning back in the passenger seat.

“W-why...are you in my car?” His voice showed off his confusion as well as the rising levels of his anxiety, his brow furrowed as he tries to remain cool and calm.

“Hiding from the police...obviously.” She responds in a ‘duh’ tone as if she were pointing out something very simple and ordinary.

“Bu-...Alright...I guess. You should stop stealing my food though.” He finally mumbles, putting the paper bag into the back seat and catching a brief whiff of the perfume she has on as he turns to do so.

He’s been alone so long, people have grown to terrify him. Public places terrify him, so it’s no surprise he stays inside for as long as he can. He hasn’t been this close to someone in months. Not since his ex left. She was just...another human being. Another one to leave. Nothing new to him. It shouldn’t have been a surprise nor a disappointment to him but he couldn’t not feel distraught over it for a while after it happened. He couldn’t help but hope she would….nevermind.

She grins - her smile a little spark of light in this lonely little world that is his life. Everyone around him always looked so damn happy. How come he never felt the happiness for himself?

He shifts back into his seat, fingers fiddling with the zipper on his black hoodie, avoiding her gaze as much as possible while still trying to take subtle glances at her. He feels uncomfortably like a teenager at that moment, stumbling his way through a conversation with a girl way too pretty to be talking to him.

“I bet you hear this all the time, but you should do like, audio books or voice acting or somethin’. You’ve got a rad voice to narrate some Steven King or Dean Koontz. Bram Stoker's Dracula would be sick, or some kind of devil or demon character.” She offers, grinning again as she steals another fry despite the bag now being in the back and shifts to reach into her back pocket, the sound of her wallet chain hitting the side of his car door echoes throughout the enclosed space of the car. She pulls out a couple dollars and slaps them onto his dashboard, “anyway, for the fries. Annnd for letting me hide in your car. Don’t go spending it all in one place.” She pushes the door of the Subaru open, winking at him and sliding one leg out. “Thanks for keepin’ the fuzz off of me, see ya Hades!” She jokes teasingly, slapping the roof of his car before closing the door and practically skipping off in the opposite direction of the one the cop went in.

Corpse parts his lips, blinking slowly before looking at the department store and back towards the slowly shrinking figure of the girl. His head is spinning again, for different reasons now.

“What the hell just happened....?” He pauses for a lingering second before his voice turns sharp and a distressed look crosses his face, “Fuck, what did I need from the store?!”

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