#I usually sound like a pre-pubescent teenage boy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

age-of-flower-power · 3 years ago

Text

The Art of it All (series)

The Beginning (Part 1)

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x female!Reader

Word Count: 7.1k (okay get it I guess)

Summary: Through the many stages of your life there had always been one constant. Here’s a story of your progression through time with that constant, and the internal battle with yourself to get things just right. After all, life imitates art, right?

Warnings: underage drinking, mentions of high school, mentions of drug usage. Part one takes place in high school incase that can be triggering for anyone, but it’s purely fluff in this part.

Authors Note: Hey! So i’ve been around for a minute, but never thought to post any of my writings for this fanbase yet... so here it is! The first fic for gvf, from me to you! This is purely fictional, I clearly do not know the boys and this work is just out of pure enjoyment of the art of storytelling. This will be a series of chapters/parts posted through the eyes of one of Josh’s closest friends. This part, The Beginning, takes place in high school.

Not everyone has a hobby, some aren’t too sure what they really want to do with their spare time outside of whatever else surrounds them, but you were lucky enough that from a young age, one thing had always made sense to you. Your mother had introduced you to the world of theatre as a young child, and from then on, you seemed to grow fonder of the whole “acting” charade.

Seemingly enough, theatre is an art form like any other, such as dance, music, and sometimes even crew work. The thing is, when it came to theatre, everyone involved always had at least something to do. From lights, costumes, acting, dancing, etc etc. It was a department that you found often included the likes of everyone no matter how they fit into the mismatched puzzle that the world of theatre presented.

So, it was no surprise to you that when you had moved to Frankenmuth during middle school, you had joined the town's community of theatre shortly after. It wasn’t really anything special, not what you had been used to in your old city of living, but when it came to theatre the same personalities could usually be found no matter what city or state you resided in. The theatre you first joined was more community oriented, seeing that high school was the only truly private theatre group in small towns like this.

Although theatre had always been something that you relied quite heavily on within the more pre-stage years of life, high school had brought an entirely different side to the art itself. Transitioning from a pubescent to a full on teenager brought a lot of terrible quirks. Acne, hormone filled drama, stupid boy and girl crushes, and stress about grades did not help the rough adjustments from middle school to high school, and to top it all off… high school was a battlefield shaped to eat and tear apart even the toughest of kids.

Well, it wasn’t all bad. When you first came to Frankenmuth, you hadn’t been anything older than thirteen. They say the hardest year for middle schoolers will be the seventh year, and with your luck, you had also been the new kid in a town where everybody knew everybody. That being said, it meant that when you had arrived in the midst of the first semester, anxious and tired from your move, it was of little shock to see that no one was interested in talking with you on your first day.

You remembered sitting down at your desk after being escorted to your first class, shuffling in awkwardly as you interrupted whatever lecture the teacher had been going on about, and immediately wished your parents hadn’t moved away from home at all. That, maybe if things had been different, you would’ve been at your old school where you knew everyone; maybe if things had been different, you would’ve actually made a friend on your first day.

That is, middle school was tragic, but as always, you had found your voice through a local community theatre production of The Sound of Music. You had already been at Frankenmuth for about a month when your mother had walked into your school and set a flyer down on your bed and asked if you felt like auditioning. She had explained that she knew the move had been hard, but she wanted to see you act again on stage, even if you were unsure about knowing anybody and a little nervous about putting yourself out there to a town that (at the time) had deemed you unwelcome.

That production had actually changed the course of your year. Through the time of casting and actually broadening your horizons in a new town, you had met Hayley. Who in turn, later turned out to be one of your closest friends, and probably the reason you had survived middle school in the first place. She was the complete opposite of whatever you had going on, which warranted a lot of attention for the two of you when you had inevitably become best friends after the production. She was tall, but not in a way that seemed lanky and awkward, and had a smile that could’ve probably melted the hearts of thousands. Her bright and cheery looks directly acquainted her quick sarcastic way of speaking. She had stunning hazel eyes, and although she was probably the epitome of beauty, you never felt as though she was shallow or vain. It was nice, you had thought at the time, to know someone who could flaunt her looks but yet be void of any arrogance.

From then on, you two had stuck together like glue. She helped you through middle school, you had starred in two other musicals as ensemble members and a play together as background characters for the remainder of middle school, and by the time you were freshmen in high school, the only logical option for you two seemed to be joining the drama club… that was when you met, him. Josh Kiszka.

Not only had you seemingly neglected the idea of boys when in middle school, but you had never been directly affected in any way upon the years up to this point by any boy. Sure, you had occasionally seen a cute boy in class, or passed one in town and let your eyes linger for longer than you probably should have, but never like this.

It sort of went like this: your first week of high school. Hayley and you had signed up for your classes that summer, opting to take a few of them together, and the first week you both had also opted to do theatre together. On the first day of the club itself meeting, Hayley had wound up sick meaning you went alone. It was alright, you tried never to rely on her too heavily in social situations, but of course when you spend that much time with someone you feel a little lost without them around to guide you further.

Well, anyway, you had sat down in the old theatre of the high school after saying ‘hello’ to some other freshmen you knew, but alone to that you wouldn’t interrupt whatever conversations some groups were already having as they made their way into their own seats. In the back, alone and ready to fill in Hayley on the details later, you sat and watched as the meeting started. The officers of the club introduced themselves, droning on about policies they valued in their club, and just as you were zoning out to the information they were feeding you about the different requirements for members of the club, a voice had whispered behind you into your ear.

“Am I super late?” The voice had asked. You couldn’t help but jump as the words had been spoken, then immediately heard a follow up of, “Oh geez! Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” You were just about to turn and face whoever was speaking when suddenly you came face to face with the owner of the voice as another young freshman, around your age, plopped down in the dusted seat next to you and flashed a beautiful grin. “I'm Josh. Can I sit here? Sorry I kinda already did-” He was whispering but he already sort of talked a mile a minute and you steeled yourself to shake out of whatever funk you had put yourself under as you flashed a smile back and replied.

“No, uhm, it’s okay! Really.” You said simply, snorting as he made a quizzical face as if he was unsure whether or not you were saying that for his comfort or to just be polite, but either way he nodded and turned for a fraction of a second to look towards the stage as the meeting rolled on while you had become quietly acquainted. He turned back to you after a moment.

“Did I miss anything important or have they just been lecturing this entire time?” He whispered, leaning in slightly like he didn’t want to get caught by those around. You snorted and shook your head, glancing around the cramped theatre before leaning in after him.

“To be honest, I think this entire meeting could have been in an email or on a sheet of paper, so not really. They literally are just going over the club rules.” Your response to his question had gotten a light chuckle out of him.

“Really? That’s unfortunate. I think I skipped my brother’s soccer practice for this, but I really probably could have just hunted down someone tomorrow to quiz them on whatever they’re going over, huh?” That raised a lot of questions for you in your head, but for later, you had reminded yourself. Later, because for some odd reason, you felt like the person sitting next to you in this dusty old theatre was going to be heavily involved in your life.

After the meeting was over as you two had basically whispered back and forth the entire time, you had made your way to leave, slinging your backpack over one shoulder and thanking Josh for his company, you were stopped by his hand gripping your bag.

“Wait, I didn't catch your name!” He exclaimed, worrying his brows as you turned back to him to laugh, holding a hand out as a more formal way of greeting your newly acquired friend.

“It’s (Y/N).” You told him. He had muttered the name under his breath as a way of taking in the information and you watched as his face lit up bright in that heart throbbing-ly beautiful smile you were just now getting used to.

From that day on, Josh was at your side almost as often as Hayley had been all those years prior. Well, your small world was expanding rapidly and you were quite certain that the change was more than welcome.

- - - - - - - -

For the years that followed, your friendship with Josh had bloomed into a wholesome constant in your life. Of course, Hayley had been there the entire time, the three of you making quite the staple in your high school. By the time Junior year rolled around and fall was settling into the small town in Michigan, you were antsy to start the newest production your high school was putting on. It was a week into school, your classes already taking off into directions that busied you with a workload fit for a college kid , but you still found time to hang around with your best friends after school.

Today was no different. Josh (establishing Freshman year that he was not going to leave your side after that fateful day you two met anytime soon) walked with you to your house afterschool alongside Hayley. The two had been joking about something, but you paid them no mind as your thoughts filled with ideas for monologues to recite for the upcoming auditions.

See, the thing is, from Freshman year to now, you had pretty much spent most of your time with those two when you could. They were your closest friends. Everyday after class you all would walk each other home, or on school vacations you would find whatever free-time you all had to roam the best hiking spots near town, drive hours away to listen to music and look at the beautiful scenery Michigan had to offer. However, because of this, you also had spent quite a lot of time at the Kiszka household too.

Your parents were often busy with work, leaving you to your own devices most days. Hayley’s parents were around a bit more, but even still she seemed to enjoy being in your company more than the comfort of her own home. It was easy to say you two were attached at the hip, Josh being a welcome third-party starting Freshman year. You remembered introducing Hayley and Josh the week after you had met him all about two years ago, the two hitting it off as well as any two extroverts could.

“(Y/n)? Hello?” You were called back to the present upon hearing Hayley’s soft voice, stopping your stride to turn and face them from where you had apparently walked far ahead. “Were you listening to me?” She asked with a quirk in her brow, her manicured hand resting on her hip from where she stood.

Hayley was like that. Her and Josh were eyesores to look at, both in radiance and in sheer unadulterated god-like beauty. It was quite refreshing for others to probably see you next to them, you said to yourself. You came off as rather plain compared to Hayley’s Hollywood-worthy beauty and Josh’s front-man personality and looks.

You steeled yourself, taking in your surroundings now. You realized after glancing around that you were standing on the sidewalk just outside her quaint home. When did you get here? You wondered to yourself, watching as Josh smirked at you from beside her, backpack slung over both shoulders, his hands looped through the straps lazily.

“Uhm, yes…?” You said with a sheepish smile, replying to her earlier remarks. She rolled her eyes with a huff, Josh chuckling after her quietly. As serious as she could be, Josh always broke the tension with the playful air about him. While she could scold you in all her glory, Josh could ground you with a joke or a smile.

“She’s probably just considering the fall play or something- You know how she gets into her head and then immediately forgets the rest of us exist.” He said, ever knowing of your habits. He was easy like that, quick to figure people out like he just understood everyone and everything. Maybe it was because he was always so grounded into the earth and the world around him, but as carefree as he came off, he had never actually figured out half of your grade’s crush on him. Foolish boy, you thought.

“Look, (Y/n),” Hayley started, her manicured hand reaching for your own calloused hand that had been resting at your side, “You should really worry less about the play that’s a week away,” she rolled her eyes, “and focus more on the now.” She swung your hands together, taking one of Josh’s hands in her other hand, “Like how Josh’s party is tonight, which is important to you, like now.” Hayley’s nose crinkled as she smiled at you, it was probably cute to all the boys in your grade, but you knew that smile. It meant mischief, and considering the information she just told you, it meant no good as well.

You stared at them for a second, pausing to really take in the information. “Huh?” Was all that had come out of your mouth, backtracking your thoughts yet again as your mind raced to catch up with what she just spewed at you. Hayley rolled her eyes again, a habit she really needed to fix, and Josh snorted beside you both.

“See! She’s got her mind in the clouds!” Josh exclaimed, dramatic as ever. He released Hayley’s hand to drape it delicately over his forehead, all woe is me. “(Y/n), I’ve been talking about the party the entire walk home from school!” You would’ve flinched at his volume if you weren’t used to it by now.

“Well I kept tuning in and out, I'm sorry-”

“Babe, don’t be sorry just be better.” Hayley joked lovingly as ever. She gave you a knowing look when you just stared back at her all confused. Before you could defend yourself further she seemed bored already of your antics, poking your shoulder as she turned to walk about the steps to her house.

Hayley turned to wave you both off. “I’ll pick you up at 7 o’clock, mkay?” And just like that she left you both, leaving you standing on the sidewalk alone with Josh. You turned to Josh after Hayley entered her house, waiting for her front door to close before you dared to utter another word. When you looked at him with a raised brow he looked back, unbothered.

“Okay, fill me in on the details and I promise this time I won’t space off.” You sighed out. He shrugged non-committal and started walking with you again, side-by-side, routine as always.

You couldn’t remember really when the three of you started walking home together from school, well you could remember Hayley tagging along in middle school, but Josh had always gone home with his twin brother. Sometime during Freshman year he really just started to show up around you a lot more, and you figured from then and there he had made himself home with the idea that you needed a buddy to be with after he realized Hayley’s stop was much closer to the school than your own.

“Well for starters,” He began, taking your hand which in turn caused a slight flush to briefly appear, “I invited like half the grade.” You immediately gaped at his words, nearly tripping over a crack in the cement under your worn out sneakers.

“You did not!” You squawked. He smiled.

“I did! But don’t worry, it’s not going to be anything crazy! Just a little way to kickoff the year and celebrate how cool I am.” He wiggled his brows at you. He was always like this. Josh knew everyone and anyone and vice versa. He was one of those kids that would begin to speak and others could shut up and listen, hence why he was probably so good on stage as he was off. It also didn’t help that his brother, Jake, was the epitome of ‘I'm also super cool and ladies love me, but I'd rather play guitar than look their way’ kinda stuff. You shook your head at Josh, biting your cheek.

“How did your parents even agree to something like this?” You pondered aloud. He swung your hands back and forth with each step, humming. Usually when Josh spoke, he always seemed to make direct eye-contact with the person he was talking to. Well, more like, talking at. That was okay, you said in your head, because Josh filled the space between the pauses you never spoke in.

“Well, the thing is, they didn’t.” He said it casually, with a click of his tongue to the roof of his mouth. You stared at him from the side of your eye, your walking pace still steady along-side him. “But they’re at a lake house this weekend, and they aren’t coming back for a few days so, of course they left Jake and I in charge.”

“A grand idea.” You rasped out sarcastically. He glanced over at you with a smirk but you deflected by looking away before his gaze could make you flush further.

“Well, as long as we clean up after ourselves, there shouldn’t be a problem.” You supposed that was true, but teenagers are almost always disrespectful to spaces that aren’t their own, even in a small town like Frankenmuth. This caused some mild anxiety to creep up from your belly to your head. You could say you were nervous for the party, only ever having been to one actual large party so far in your high school career. Of course, it had been with Hayley and Josh, but this was different. You hadn’t known anyone there, and it was over the summer a town or two away… but now? You would practically know everyone. Maybe that should’ve made you feel safe, but it uneased your gut.

“Hey,” Josh brought you back from your thoughts gently, squeezing your hand in his own, “I won’t leave your side tonight, you can trust me.” Josh, oh sweet Josh, you said in your head. He could faintly look at you and tell something was up. How was that even possible? Maybe he had a third eye, you considered. Anyway, he promised this to you. “Plus, you’ll have Hayley too. She’s pretty good at staying by your side, right?” He squeezed your hand again as a way to ground you further into the conversation.

You nodded, remembering the party from over the summer. Drunk teens dancing around a fire outside some kid’s lake house, Hayley laughing with Jake about something he had said. She had technically stayed with you the entire night, and even if you ended up being the DD that night, she was at least kind enough to not leave your side.

So you replied, “I know, I just-” You shrugged then, pausing your steps. He stopped alongside you, turning to gauge your reaction. You heaved a sigh, concluding it was a terrible habit in yourself as you had concluded a terrible habit in Hayley earlier. “I dunno why it’s making me nervous.” You chewed your cheek again, dropping your hand from his to scratch at your wrist, suddenly uncomfortable with this conversation. “You kinda are too cool for me sometimes.” You admitted, and although it was a joke when you had said it, it was hard not to believe it.

Now, Josh usually kept a positive and fun air about him, never being too serious or ever being too up-front whenever he would speak, however now he seemed to shift slightly in character. His usual smile fell and he straightened up a tad, staring at you like he was staring at the most important art piece the world had ever seen. It was unnerving to say the least.

“(Y/n).” He said, no longer playful. “You have got to be one of the coolest chicks out here. You realize that, right?” He waited a beat for you to reply. “Right?” He repeated, to which to shake your head, chuckling at the new-found seriousness about him to ease the nerves building up. “No because- I'm not kidding listen-” He took your hand as he always seemed to do, stopping the incessant scratching you had been doing out of anxiety, and brought the hand to his heart for you to feel. Your mouth gaped, the flush furious upon your cheeks. When you tried to pull your hand back out of shock from the touch, he kept it in place. Sturdy just like how sturdy his gaze was upon you in this moment.

“You’re smart,” He stared into your eyes, making you shrink under the intensity of the gaze itself, “You’re talented,” You assumed your cheeks were turning red as the trees were turning, “And you are so unbelievably kind, (Y/n).” He dropped your hand from his chest, running his own hands through his curls as he fidgeted while he tried to come up with more honest words to speak to you.

“I will never, ever, be too cool for the coolest girl in school.” And alright, that was a pretty cheesy line, but your heart soared at his honesty anyway, because by looking at him you could tell he meant all of it.

Even after knowing Josh for a couple years now, you were always still surprised that he could make you feel like no one else could. Wasn’t it silly, to walk into a room or rehearsal and know he still only had eyes for you? Seeing him now, all bothered by you believing deep down he was way too good for you, you still found yourself thankful to have a friend like him in your life. Afterall, he was like the sun, and everyone in this town orbited around him.

“Josh, you have to save a speech like that for a girlfriend or lover, seriously.” You broke the tension in the air with a mild joke, deflecting with humor was safe. He smiled at you again, flashing those terribly beautiful pearly whites at you.

“I guess I'll just have to repeat them to her when the time is right.”

The rest of the walk home was easy, you both decided to take the long way to your house through town for a little more time together. By the time he dropped you off at your own home, neither of you wanted to utter goodbye. It always seemed to get like that when both of you had to depart, even if it was only a few hours till you’d see each other again. Maybe it was the autumn air setting in, or the way Josh looked against the fading autumn sun, but you could’ve sworn he seemed different when he dropped you off today.

Whatever was going on in his mind during your walk home, you thought, it would have to wait till later.

----------------

The thing about going to high school in a small town was, there was never anything crazy to go out and do on a Friday night, which meant that if there was a party to be had, anyone and everyone would likely be in attendance. Well, especially with the amount of people Josh Kiszka knew- scratch that- invited personally. You would definitely have to fight for dominance if you wanted his attention tonight, you concluded to yourself.

Hayley pulled up to your house around 7 pm like she had promised and you had walked out to her beat up Camry, sliding into the passenger’s seat. She was wearing some old band t-shirt with a flannel and jeans to bring it all together, her outrageous blonde curls pulled into a bun on top of her head. She was effortless, making you shrink a little in the seat when you noticed you two had similar tastes in outfit choice. You had thrown on some high waisted pants, tucking in a band shirt as well, your white shoes piecing together something casual about the way you dressed. It was just a high school party, you concluded, knowing you hadn’t the means to wear anything nicer for the occasion.

As you two drove to Josh’s house you listened along to some classic rock station on the radio, both singing along to whatever played, Hayley laughing as you faked a terrible air guitar. When you had arrived, you both had to park a significant block away, cars already piling up outside the road to the Kiszka house. You seriously began to hope no one from the neighborhood would dare say anything later to Mama and Papa Kiszka, knowing how awful of a scolding the oldest brothers would get.

By the time both of you had gotten out of the car and walked up the front steps of the house, your anxiety eased by Hayley taking your hand as a guide once the door flew open. Immediately you recoiled at the sheer amount of people from your school littering the interior of the house, having to dodge and weave bodies to even make it to the living room area.

Outside, the house had seemed quiet enough, but now inside it was hard to hear anything over the talking, singing, dancing, and drunk teens having the time of their lives. You made a mental note to offer to help Josh clean up once everyone had left.

Hayley only dropped your hand once you came to a beaten up couch in the living room, seeing Josh standing behind it talking to his twin Jake about something, a cup of liquor in his hand as he dramatically flailed the other as he spoke. Hayley patted your shoulder as she left to go make a drink for the both of you.

“I’ll be back, just stay here for a sec, kay?” She muttered into your ear, sauntering off. You stood awkwardly for a moment before finally grabbing Josh’s attention from the other side of the living room. His face, already smiling, seemed to light up even more if possible. Wait- was that possible? Well Josh always did seem to surprise you, you said internally. He said something to Jake who turned to you as well with a relaxed smile on his face. Josh eased over some other part of their conversation they had been having, leaving Jake’s side to walk over to you, arms outstretched to greet you with a hug.

You knew Josh was a physical person, and growing up with a family like his, it made sense. However, that never meant you were ever prepared for when he actually did pull you into his arms on occasion.

“You made it!” He exclaimed, releasing you from the hug to face you now. You pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, smiling back at him.

“Yeah, great turnout, right?” You replied, watching from the corner of your eye all the people flooding in from the kitchen to dance in the living room. You unconsciously took a step closer to Josh, and if he noticed he didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, a little more than I was expecting to be honest, but great nonetheless!” Josh always flourished in social situations, which you admired. No matter where Josh was, the mall, school, a funeral, he seemed to always be so sure of the room and the environment he was in.

He took your hand, grounding you from your thoughts once again. He placed his cup down after he took a final swig of whatever liquid and liquor he had mixed before. “C’mon, I have something to show you!” You didn’t protest as he took your hand to lead you out of the room and through the carpeted halls of his house to a much quieter hallway. It was blocked off from the rest of the party with tape and a shitty ‘do not enter’ sign made from paper and sharpie taped over it. He had to drop your hand to bob and weave through the tape with you, leading you back to the door to Jake and his shared room.

“Aren’t you missing your party for this, mister host?” You teased as you both stepped through the door to his space. He shrugged at you, walking over to a desk in the corner of the room. You had only ever been in his room a handful of times, usually when you two would smoke or share a pre-roll. It was messier now than you were used to, clothes and papers littering the floor. It was much quieter here than the other rooms of his packed house, but you appreciated the escape.

“Aha!” You heard him mutter. You looked over his space as he rummaged around the desk looking for something. Looking out at the sheer mess of everything on that desk, you were surprised he was able to find absolutely anything, but he looked determined so you watched his efforts as he turned to you, a book in his hands.

You raised a brow as he passed it over, your hands brushing subtly as your eyes raked over the cover. The book was hardcover and made from a worn red leather, the title stamped into the front in gold being titled, ‘Monologues for the Aspiring Actor’. You fingered over the imprint of the lettering, looking up at Josh in confusion. He seemed excited rather than nervous about his gift, waiting for you to look through it.

“What is this?” You pondered, flipping it open to see pages upon pages of famous monologues littering the inside. The manila paper was soft against your fingertips with every page you turned. He was sheepishly smiling now, scratching his chin as you thumbed through the majority of the book.

“I got it a while ago, for you.” Josh waited for you to finish looking through it before he spoke again. “My brothers and I were out thrifting and I kinda, sorta, stumbled upon it- and since you are always looking for more material to use, I got it!” It was a sweet gesture, actually really sweet. Not only had you gotten a gift from Josh, but you were touched because you had actually never received anything from a boy before, especially not to this magnitude.

To know, even out and about with his family, he was thinking of you. It was the small things that always stuck with you, and at this party here and now, you were soulfully touched. You let a loud and mean blush rush to your cheeks now, looking back up at Josh.

“Josh that’s… so sweet, actually. Thank you.” He looked beyond pleased with himself, it meant everything to him to see you liked his gift. “I love it.” You told him, pulling him into a hug as thanks. He squeezes you tight now, only pulling away when the hug seemed a little too long to be friendly.

“Yeah of course!” He cleared his throat. “Well uhm, do you want to get back to the party? I know Jake can handle himself, but I probably should make a few more appearances throughout the night, right?” He chided, making you remember that, right, you and Josh weren’t the only ones in the world and that you had definitely not stayed where Hayley had told you to.

You set the book down on his bed, delicately, staring at it for a second longer like it could vanish at any point in time. Josh was… considerate. It made your stomach do something weird, but you pushed the thought off. He was a good friend, and he thought highly of you. That was all.

After a beat you both shuffled out of his room and back to the party, Josh not leaving your side until you reached the living room. You noticed Hayley, two drinks in her hand, talking to some tall boy in denim as you approached. She noticed you almost immediately, ditching the conversation she was in the middle of to saunter over and hand you a drink, the boy forgotten about as she wiggled her perfect eyebrows at you.

“What?” You inquired, taking a sip from what tasted like sheer gasoline, to study her features. She rolled her eyes, then turned to Josh who was still at your side.

“Where did you two run off to?” She asked, pursing her lips, ever knowing of something you seemed unaware of. Josh just smiled at her.

“I don’t kiss and tell.” He remarking, dramatically turning away and starting up a conversation with someone random and close enough to his proximity to torture. You mourned his leave mentally but kept your focus on Hayley beside you.

“He just had to show me something in the back, nothing happened.” You told her, gulping down another drink of the awful liquid in your cup. She seemed unfazed by your hesitance but all was quickly forgotten after a song she liked began to play over the speakers in the house, taking your hand and dragging you to dance. Whatever Hayley and Josh knew together that they always seemed to telepathically connect on, you had no idea.

- - - - - - - -

The rest of the night was honestly pretty fun. It was good to know that your fears and doubts of how the night could’ve gone seemed so far away now. Josh and Hayley were social creatures, sure, but they made sure to stick by your side. It meant a lot, and because of how dedicated they seemed to be to the idea of you having fun as well, you were glad you came.

It was around one in the morning when the other teens began to grow tired and people started to filter out. You and Hayley stayed to help Josh and Jake clean up, doing a good job at cleaning up the big messes like cups, cans, and trash. It was the smaller details you all regretfully saved for later, such as cigarette butts in the front lawn, or things the boy’s parents would clearly notice like a moved table, etc.

When you inquired later about their siblings being away Jake mentioned that their younger brother Samuel was off at his friend Danny’s house, and that their sister Ronnie was also away with a friend. By the time everyone was gone and a majority of the house was cleaned, you were mentally checked out.

So, with only a few empty bottles and some trash bags lining the kitchen floor, the four decided to migrate and sit on the living room, spread out amongst yourselves, all of you drunk enough to not want to clean anymore but awake enough that you didn’t feel like going to sleep just yet. Josh offered before all of you sat down that it would probably be smartest for you and Hayley to stay the night, so no one had to drive home. You agreed, knowing that even if you were pretty drunk, Hayley was worse off than you.

While you all sat, chatting about the night and whatever fun stories transpired around the house, you noticed how Jake would lull his head occasionally to the side from where he sat. You, Hayley, and Josh had taken up the space beside each other on the living room couch, Jake awkwardly lounging in a recliner near the three of you. Josh snickered about something Hayley had said, but you focused on the air conditioner across the room as it buzzed loudly, filling the silence left between your best friends speaking.

You only came back to your thoughts when Hayley yawned dramatically, taking her curls out of the near-ruined bun to fix it sloppily.

“Yeah, I think I'm ready to call it a night.” Jake muttered after her yawn, smirking when Hayley frowned at him, even if he sunk deeper into the corner of the recliner, elbow resting on the arm, his cheek lazily resting against his palm.

“Aw, so soon? Didn’t you have fun?” She asked, but her body language betrayed how awake she tried to sound. Jake stood up from his chair, reaching his arms up to stretch.

“Uh-huh, totally.” He muttered. Josh sat up a bit straighter from beside you, ready to wish Jake goodnight, but your body felt hyper aware as he shifted closer and your knees brushed ever so slightly. He was on the other end of the couch, opposite from Hayley, leaving you in the middle between your two friends. Somehow you always ended up in the middle.

Hayley waved Jake off as he left the room and you watched as he muttered a ‘goodnight’, nodding to Josh before he bounded down the hall to the comfort of his bed in their shared room.

Hayley turned to you two now, grabbing a throw blanket from the back of the couch and throwing it over her lean legs. She snuggled up rather fast, making herself at home on the sticky leather material the old couch was made of.

“Okay so, I'm super tired… so I might pass out.” She said into her hand, yawning dramatically again to get her point across further. Josh raised a brow at her, leaning forward from his sitting position.

“Aw, so soon?” He mimicked her earlier comment at Jake. She simply flipped him off, snuggling deeper into the arm of the couch.

“Duh,” she huffed, “I couldn’t act all tired in front of your cool brother. It’s a power move.”

“That makes no sense.” Josh said. He shifted back to a resting position now that it seemed the life of the party and his brother were mellowed out. You felt his knees leave from where they had been faintly touching and you mourned the loss of Josh for a second time that night. Josh shifted his body again, this time facing you, legs thrown over your lap. You rested your hands over them, fiddling with the material his pant legs were made out of, the denim stiff.

“I say we sleep in Sam’s room after she falls asleep.” Josh jutted his chin when he talked about Hayley, you flicked your gaze over at her. She was pretty much already out cold, her breathing evening out. You giggled to yourself at how sleepy she was, looking back over at Josh again.

“Why don’t you just sleep with Jake in your guy’s room? I can stay here with her incase she needs me.” You said it to be polite but that didn’t stop you from catching the way Josh slightly frowned, however he shrugged it off quickly, leaning back into the arm of the couch.

“(Y/n),” he said, “We are the only two people left awake in my house, after throwing a high school party, and you don’t want to cuddle?” He teased to which you replied with rolling your eyes.

“First of all, you threw a high school party. Second of all, how do I know you aren’t too drunk to remember in the morning?” You inquired. Josh crossed his arms over his chest, pouting slightly. He was always smiling, but the pout seemed to suit his features a little too much.

“I'm practically sober right now,” that was a lie, “and plus, the couch can barely hold two people sleeping comfortably. Can you blame me for looking out for you?” Ever the gentleman he was, you remarked to yourself internally.

It was a lot for your inebriated brain to take in however. You had never actually stayed over at Josh’s place before, one because he was a boy and girls didn't sleep over at guy’s houses, right? And two, because he had never made a big deal of asking. The three of you were always together anyway, like how most days at midnight the three of you would make an effort to sneak out and drive around doing whatever shenanigans you could, but Josh would always be outside next morning to pick you up from your house and walk to school with you…

So sleeping over wasn’t something you ever thought about, because you were together every hour of the day anyway it seemed.

As your thoughts came and went, you concluded your internal monolog and got off the couch with Josh to walk to Sam’s unused room. It definitely smelled like incense and axe body spray in there, but Josh explained that Sam wouldn’t mind the both of you using his room as he cracked a window open to air the place out.

“He won’t be back till after dinner, Danny’s family will feed and water him.” He joked.

The both of you hardly wanted time, tired selves sinking into the bed next to each other, suddenly realizing just actually how tired and fuzzy you were feeling. Maybe all those drinks, dancing, and socializing truly did take a toll on you. You hardly noticed as Josh pulled you close, eyes too heavy and body too tired. You hardly thought anything of it when his breath ghosted over your neck, letting yourselves rest together in the tranquil peace that always surrounded the both of you in your moments. Could you call them moments? You didn’t let yourself think any harder of it.

You were content to slip into your dream cycle with him there, close. You surmised you had never been this comfortable before.

The party had been a success, sure, and you had a lot of fun with Hayley, sure, but something about Josh had changed in your stupid hormonal teenage brain.

**** End of Part 1 ****

Taglist (ask if you want to be added!): @feeeeeettttt

#greta van fleet fic #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet x reader #josh kiszka #gvf #gvf fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fanfiction #josh kiszka fic #jake kiszka #the art of it all #my fic #slow burn babey #we die like men #idk what else to really put here

66 notes · View notes

akakeiiji · 4 years ago

Note

sjfksks omg, i was the one who sent the shy-around-his-crush!akaashi hc and i just wanted to say THAT YOUR LITTLE IMAGINE WAS TOO CUTE! ugh, my heart, i can’t handle it 🥺😩 if it’s possible can you make that like a hc or a little drabble? like you portrayed my bby so well, now i can’t help it but want more! anyways, I hope you have an amazing day, lots of love! 😚

NONNIE I LITERALLY CAN’T FIND THE POST THAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT BWEBVUEBE I’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR HALF AN HOUR NOW WTF!! But I still vaguely remember the prompt so some things may be different from the original imagine

-`,✎ Akaashi being shy around his crush

Out of all the things Akaashi could use to summarize his current predicament, the only thing that came to mind was a cliche pop culture reference; Everyone has their own kryptonite. Their own weakness. The one thing in the world that could make them crumble and fall.

Naturally, one would want to avoid said kryptonite at all cause, stay away from it, run from it but as much as Akaashi tries to do just that, he always finds himself running back to you.

How many times has he tried distancing himself from you now? Three, four times? Regardless, it always ended the same: with you slithering back into his life like a snake catching its prey in its grips. Except Akaashi was always willing and never fought back to your advances.

How could he though? How could he insist to be apart from you? Apart from your smile that never fails to make him do the same, your laugh that sends jolts of electricity through his skin when he hears it, your very existence that seems to bring so much warmth and light into his day.

Nothing has been able to penetrate through his core so violently and suddenly as you have, you crumble his defenses, and tear down walls he’s so expertly put up over the years.

There was no doubt about it: You were his weakness. You were his kryptonite.

Your effect on him was instantaneous. When you were near, all the calmness and passiveness Akaashi was known for would suddenly dissipate into thin air.

Whenever you spoke to him—or merely smiled at his general direction—it would be as if the torrent of thoughts that always rushed through his mind would still and be replaced with an overwhelming rush of panic and disorder. His stoic facade would crumble; he’d stammer and blabber, he’d turn red, cheeks burning the longer he stayed near you and your bright disposition, and his heart would hammer against his chest so violently it would almost overpower the sound of your voice.

He hated the feeling so much, hated the way you made him feel this way. But he still craved your attention, to be near you.

At first, he resented you for it. How could you have such an effect on him? How could you render him a fool, a pre-pubescent teenage boy once more? He avoided you, stayed away from you any chance he could hoping and praying that some time apart could bring him back to his senses, anchor him back down, but instead the feeling of wanting to be with you only intensified the longer he was away from you until it was the only thing left on his mind.

That was when Akaashi realized why this was happening, he was honestly embarrassed with himself for not realizing it sooner since it was as clear as day; he was hopelessly and madly in love with you.

He sighed slightly as he tore his head away from the window next to him and directed his gaze back on their teacher who was explaining something that Akaashi did not understand in the slightest. This was another reason why his feelings for you were so cumbersome, they distracted him during times he was meant to be focused; when he’s in class or in training, and even when he’s trying to sleep, you’d just pop up in his head and he’s suddenly off in some faraway place in his mind.

He tried not to, he really did, but he gave in to the little devil on his shoulder and turned his head towards you. You were seated a few desks away from him but you were close enough that he could see the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled or hear your laugh when you found something funny.

You were slouching down on your desk, scrunching your eyebrows at the writing on the board as you scribbled them down on your notebook. You were doing that thing where you bite the insides of your cheek when you were confused.

Akaashi’s own pen stilled, his hand stopping as he was jotting down notes in hopes that he can make some sense of the lesson once he gets back home. As usual, he lost himself in his own thoughts, thoughts that were about you as they always have been these days.

His mind wandered to ways he could possibly spend more time with you. Perhaps he could offer to tutor you on the lesson if you didn't understand it—no that wouldn’t work, he could barely understand it himself. If he just had the guts to actually confess to you then maybe he wouldn’t have to think up elaborate plans to spend even just an hour with you.

And besides, even if he were blessed enough to be granted that, he’d probably spend the entirety of the time with you behaving like a fool; unable to utter a word, make eye contact, or make his blushing cheeks fade.

He closed his eyes as one of his intrusive embarrassing memories surfaced in his mind—it was when you passed by the gym while he was training causing him to set the ball in the opposite direction from Konoha, subsequently hitting their coach in the face, Bokuto laughed for so long he almost passed out.

When he removed his hands from his eyes and he was surprised to see your own staring back at him.

He froze like a deer in headlights, shoulders stiffening and lips parting in shock. You smiled at him and he swears his heart skipped a beat.

You pointed at your teacher who was writing down details for a project on the board. It was by pair.

Do you want to be partners? You mouthed at him as you gestured towards the both of you.

His mind blanked, how utterly typical of him. He weighed his options: partner up with you and risk exposing his feelings and embarrassing himself, but be able to be with you? Or run away like a coward?

As much as his mind was screaming for him to refuse, not to give in to this offer, as tempting as it, was because he knew for a fact that he’d just fall even deeper the more he’s around you, your pleading eyes were far stronger than his common sense.

Who even listens to their common sense these days anyway? Definitely not Akaashi because he nodded after a few seconds, making you break into an even wider grin that may or may not have made the second year choke on his saliva.

That night as he struggled to understand his lesson from earlier, his phone chimed loudly tearing his attention away from his incomplete notes. He grabbed the device and was met with a text notification from you.

Hey! Are you free tomorrow?

I was thinking that we could meet up and discuss the project! We can get some lunch somewhere too if you want

Akaashi reread your text for the dozenth time now. He pondered before typing out a response that wasn’t too eager but not aloof as well.

That’s a good idea, I’m free tomorrow

And I wouldn’t say no to lunch

You replied right away.

Great! Let’s meet at the school at 12

The typing symbol appeared and disappeared a few times after that and Akaashi waited in anticipation before you sent:

Consider it a date hehe

He only realized then that he was grinning the entire time, his face warm and cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling. He dropped his phone on his desk and covered his face with his hands in silent glee.

You were definitely going to be the end of him but he wasn’t really complaining now that he thought about it.

292 notes · View notes

bauslut · 3 years ago

Text

ii. what makes a man?

pairing: aaron hotchner x rowan rivers

word count: 3.840k

warnings: canon typical violence -- blood, gore, mentions of murder, discussion of murder, discussion of weapons, cursing, trauma, dealing with trauma, death of children

prev. | next

“here you are,” jj bore a kind smile as she slid a manila folder towards the brunette, “here’s your official welcome to the bau. i’m sorry it wasn’t on more.. positive terms.”

“oh,.it’s quite all right,” rowan’s eyes widened, “this is what we’re here--”

“she’s sitting in my spot,” rossi chuckled, “but i don’t mind.”

“are you sure?” rowan stammered, a rosy blush painting her cheeks, “i-i can get up and move--”

“don’t sweat it,” rossi nodded curtly, “there are plenty of open seats.”

“hey baby girl,” a wide, jovial, grin painted morgan’s lips as a woman entered the room, her blonde locks intricately woven into an up-do, “don’t you look delicious today?”

“as always,” the woman scrunched her nose, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “how are you this morning baby-cakes?”

“hey there!” a chirp startled rowan, sounding from her left, “i’m emily, but around here, i’m referred to as prentiss.”

she was met with kind eyes, a warm mocha hue. they were bright, glimmering as they followed every minute movement as rowan studied her features. the woman was gorgeous without a doubt, with full lips and an oblong face. her hair was luscious, parted down the middle, styled into bouncy curls.

“hi,” rowan breathed, sticking out a hand, “i’m rowan riv--”

“i am afraid we do not have time for introductions,” a stern voice echoed through the space, “we are fbi agents, not kindergartners. we can have icebreakers or whatever it is you’re doing on the jet.”

rowan choked back a sharp retort as hotch strode towards a whiteboard, his spine straightened, chest puffed out slightly. sliding into her seat, her hands settled on the armrests, a puff of air exhaling from her lips. she was sandwiched between two seasoned agents, as morgan was munching on a bag of cookies on her left, prentiss sifting through papers to her right.

maybe if she just shut her mouth, she would blend in and he wouldn’t pay any sort of attention to her. which, wasn’t such a bad idea in the moment. the less he focused on her and berated her, the better.

“cookie?” morgan rattled the bag.

“not right now. thank you though,” rowan whispered, lips curving into a small smile.

“i’m about to begin discussing the case,” hotch shot rowan a glare, words barbed with venom, “so listen up.”

he pinned several images on the board, bile rising in rowan’s throat as her focus transitioned to the pictures. prentiss sucked in a shaky breath, while morgan muttered a strand of incoherent sentences.

the images progressively became more grotesque as they spanned across the board. mangled, beaten, and bloodied corpses were presented, the bile approaching the back of her mouth as she realized the age range.

the bodies were children, their jugulars slashed, lacerations and bruises littering their tiny frames.

“there has been a surge of murders in the rural farm town of homer, illinois. in the past week, there have been a total of five. all of the victims were children, with no specific physical attributes,” hotch cleared his throat, “however, all of them bear one aspect in common.”

“they’re all boys,” reid murmured, “from the images it appears as if they’re about ages eleven or twelve.”

“then they are pre-pubescent boys,” rowan’s voice was clear, pairs of eyes falling on her as she spoke, “i’ve seen something like this before, when i was working in columbus. we had a ring of traffickers who preferred this age range.”

“and?” morgan arched a brow, “why pre-pubescent boys?”

“hotch,” rowan nearly trembled as the supervisor’s cold gaze shifted on her, “i-if i may ask, were there any signs of assault or rape?”

“the severity of sexual assault varied on each victim.”

“you said that they have no physical attributes in common but looking at these photos,” reid shook his head slightly, “the brunettes are the only ones who have lacerations covering their entire bodies. the blondes, the only sign of violence demonstrated is the murder itself, the incision along the jugular.”

“could it be that our unsub has something against brunettes?” morgan inquired.

“potentially,” rowan blinked, scanning over the text, “it also says here in the autospies that the only boys who were sexually assaulted were the brunettes. i may be going on a whim here, but i think our unsub is lashing out on the brunettes for a reason. it could be power, dominance, you name it. perhaps the hair color is a stressor, or was the initial stressor. he might be reliving a traumatic event from his childhood.”

rossi whistled, “look at you, rivers. already building a profile and we’ve only met for five minutes.”

“sadly i’ve seen a lot of this before,” rowan let out a sigh, rustling through papers, “it also says here that the bodies were all found at homer lake forest preserve. i have a strong premonition that our unsub is male.”

“and what makes you say that?” hotch countered.

“by the way the bodies were handled,” rowan shrugged, “they were beaten, mutilated, and dragged through the woods. the amount of physical strength to do that is just an inherent trait males have."

“how were the bodies discovered?” jj bit her lip, a trace of fear glimmering in her icy blue depths.

“they were found by a new fisherman every morning around dawn, in the same location. they were located about half a mile from the entrance of the preserve,” hotch tossed the file onto the table, “our unsub is bold.”

“he wanted the bodies to be found,” rossi added, “he’s arrogant.”

“or he’s sloppy,” rowan remarked, “he’s devolving. he could be killing just on that need burning within him, with no remorse or any sort of emotion within him at all--”

“we need to get to homer as soon as possible,” hotch interrupted, glancing at his phone, “it’s ten o’clock in the morning. it’s only a matter of time before another body is found.”

“where’s the closest airport?” jj folded her arms across her chest.

“willard airport in champaign-urbana,” reid piped up, “other than that, the other closest one is in bloomington-normal.”

“and how do you know that?” morgan’s eyes widened.

“champaign-urbana is the home of the university of illinois,” reid swallowed thickly, “i’ve been there a few times. it’s an exceptional school for engineering, truly one of the greatest in the country--”

“all right, all right,” morgan stuck out a hand, “you answered my question.”

“wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced, plucking the file off the shiny wood.

rowan followed the others in suit, filing out of the space. trailing reid, she was the second last to leave the room, hotch right behind her, deep, smooth, voice filling her ears.

“i need to speak with you agent rivers.”

“yes?” she swiveled on her heel, facing the supervisor, folding her arms across her chest.

“i hope you’re aware that i do not tolerate any sort of childlike behavior. we’re not teenagers reuniting on the first day of class. i did not appreciate the interruptions in my conference room. you can socialize on your own time.”

“you’ve never once interrupted anything in your entire life? wow, you really must be mr. perfect. i mean look at you, all put together. i doubt you’ve even done anything wrong in your life you’re so per--”

“you realize you’re speaking to your boss with this tone, right?”

“i don’t fucking care,” tears brimmed rowan’s eyes, “this is my first day and it’s even worse than i could have ever imagined.”

“excuse me?”

“you’ve really made sure i’ve had a warm welcome to the bau, mr. perfect,” rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes, “it’s been an amazing first day, i’ll tell you that.”

for just a moment, hotch’s tough exterior cracked, a flicker of sympathy flashing in his gaze, “i’m sorry.”

“‘i’m sorry’?”

hotch paused, inhaling a deep breath, “i was going to write you up. however, i may have been a little too harsh on you. after all, this is your first day. strauss put in a good word for you, and i want to see your skill set out in the field. come on, we’re going to be left behind.”

******

“gotta love the midwest,” morgan placed his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling.

“you love it?” reid’s lips curled in disgust, “it smells like manure.”

“it smells like home,” rowan giggled, shouldering her way through the men, “c’mon, let’s go.”

“well she’s eager,” rossi chuckled, turning to hotch, “where are we setting up?”

“there’s the local p.d. in homer,” hotch slung his bag over his shoulder, “the station is only about four miles from the forest preserve.”

“i was doing some reading on the village of homer,” reid stated, “there’s only about one thousand people who live there. it’s such a tiny place, and as hotch mentioned, it’s only four miles from the preserve, surely the unsub lives there.”

“or he lives close to the lake,” rowan pointed out, “there are so many homes out there surrounding the lake in the countryside. with these rural communities, your neighbors could be a mile down the road, or miles away. it gives him the perfect opportunity to make frequent trips to the lake without being noticed.”

“you make a good point rivers,” hotch remarked, “we’ll have to keep that in mind when we investigate the lake and the surrounding woods.”

“this murder isn’t going to solve itself,” rossi cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the cluster of suvs, “we need to get to the police department and we’re losing time.”

stepping into the vehicle, rowan slid into the back seats, figuring that hotch would take the wheel, while rossi would sit shotgun. yet, curiosity buzzed in her mind as rossi took the wheel, while reid settled into the passenger seat.

“you’ve got to be shitting me,” she muttered as hotch thrust open the door, “rossi, are you usually the one who drives?”

“typically, no,” in the rearview mirror, rowan snorted when she noticed the shit-eating grin plastered on the agent’s face, “but i figured that you and hotch would love to get to know one another on the way there.”

“can i pick the station?” reid bounced in the seat, hands flying to the knobs and levers.

“pick something good, find an oldies station or something. maybe they’ll play back in black,” within seconds, the suburban was in motion, rossi revving the engine, “i plan on racing morgan, jj, and prentiss to the station. whoever loses has to buy dinner.”

“this is ridiculous,” hotch rolled his eyes, the vibration of his phone piquing rowan’s curiosity.

“by the way,” reid turned in his seat, facing hotch, “who’s been calling you so frequently today?”

“haley,” rowan tilted her head as the name spat from hotch’s mouth, “it’s not important.”

haley. from the sound of it, she was hotch’s significant other, girlfriend, fiancee, even a spouse, maybe. rowan’s eyes drifted downwards to his lap, where his hands rested on his knees. in the light, a golden band gleamed on his left ring finger.

so, hotch was married. he had a wife.

but there was something in his tone that was unsettling. were they fighting? having the typical lover’s quarrel? maybe that’s why hotch was so distant and cruel, he was constantly dealing with his marriage.

“so tell us a little about you, rowan,” rossi was far ahead of the other suburban, shades resting on the bridge of his nose, “i never got an icebreaker.”

rowan scoffed, fidgeting in the leather seat, “there’s not anything too riveting, i can spare you guys the details.”

in the corner of her eye, rowan felt his eyes pierce through her, digging deeps within the confines of her psyche. he was profiling her, desperate to get some sort of read. perhaps he was well aware of how uncomfortable she was by rossi’s query. the way her palms were slick against her pants, sweat prints clinging to the fabric. the way her cheeks were tainted pink, her jaw tightened, throat dry.

“didn’t you go to ohio state for undergrad?” reid licked his thumb, scouring through some novel or book.

“yeah,” she nodded, “i’m from a tiny town in ohio, called tiffin. i went to ohio state for an undergrad in psychology, along with a few minors in criminal justice, linguistics, spanish, so on. i stayed there for grad school since i loved the city, and the university. from there, the bureau picked me up from the academy, and i was thrown into the infamous case.”

“the child sex-trafficking bust,” hotch murmured, “i remember glancing over that in your file.”

“how long did that case go on?” rossi turned the radio dial, lowering the volume.

“longer than it should’ve been,” rowan brought a hand to her temple, a dull pain seeping into her skull, “hey, does anyone have ibuprofen?”

hotch’s eyes softened, concern painting his features, “i think i have some in my briefcase. hang on.”

rowan brought a bottle of water to her lips, sipping as hotch placed a couple of pills in her open palm. as he set them in her hand, skin grazed skin, her heart skipping a beat.

for someone as rough and callused as hotch, his hands were so utterly soft.

“thank you,” she whispered, “i appreciate it.”

“of course,” he murmured, “do you usually get frequent headaches?”

“yeah,” rowan admitted, a new wave of blush spreading, “i’m just prone to them i guess.”

“the humidity is also high today,” reid remarked, “and from the way the wind just picked up, along with the darkness of the clouds, i think it’s going to storm. your headache could be from the low pressure.”

“fantastic,” rowan threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, “you know reid, that’s kinda a myth.”

“actually research has been inconclusive.”

“how many did you take?” hotch nudged rowan, inflections of concern within his inquisition.

“six.”

“jesus christ,” rossi’s lips pursed, “are you trying to kill your liver?”

“we’ll see about that,” a giggle bubbled up in rowan’s throat.

as the suburban sailed down the interstate, her lashes fluttered, sleep threatening to pull her into its clutches. she blinked, rubbing soothing circles onto her temple, lips falling to a frown as a dull pain seeped into her forehead.

biting her lip, she fought back tears, inhaling a shaky breath. this was no place to show any weakness.

not with him around.

*****

“good afternoon, chief sellers. i’m supervisory special agent hotchner with the fbi,” hotch stated, his voice ringing with authority as he shook an officer’s hand, “and these are my colleagues.”

“thank god you’re here,” the officer’s voice was hoarse, wavering as he spoke, “it’s been a living nightmare these past few days.”

“i can only imagine,” jj murmured under her breath, “there’s someone out there killing little boys.”

“he looks so shaken up,” prentiss exhaled, folding her arms across her chest.

“we had most of the state p.d. flock out here once the second body was discovered,” chief sellers cleared his throat, his focus directed on hotch, “we’re all doing the best we can, but of course, as other duties call, we tend to be short-handed at times.”

“we’re going to do everything in our power to help,” rossi’s words were warm, brimmed with sincerity, “we’ll catch this guy, i promise.”

“and we’ll help you all in every way we can,” chief sellers nodded curtly, “anything you folks need, let us know.”

“should we start by heading out to the crime scene?” hotch inquired, “it might also be best to split some of us up.”

“of course,” chief sellers strode over to a pair of state officers, “these men will escort you to the scene. what else do you need?”

hotch’s eyes flickered over to his team, “i want morgan, reid, and rossi to go investigate the scene. prentiss and jj, would you speak with some of the locals? we need to gather as much information as possible in order to rule out anyone or gain essential details about our unsub.”

“what about me?” rowan coughed.

“you’re staying with me here at the station,” he commanded, “and you’re going to answer every phone call we get from garcia.”

“good luck newbie,” rowan rolled her eyes as morgan teased her, his breath hot against her ear.

“you might want to listen to morgan,” rossi shot her a wink, “you’re going to need it.”

“thanks,” the reply was a deadpan, the agent’s shoulders slumping as hotch approached her, “putting me on a short leash, are we?”

“you’re the one who understands the profile of our unsub the best,” he retorted, “and before you fire back with another verbal assault, think before you speak. this is your big girl job now. act like it.”

“don’t you think it’s interesting that the unsub stopped killing?” hotch murmured a few words of gratitude to an officer who handed him a coffee, cocking his head as he took a sip.

“do you think that there’s a reason behind that?”

“possibly,” rowan shrugged, denying the same styrofoam cup, “hey, where’s the closest gas station?”

“about half a mile away,” the officer replied coolly, “would you like a ride? a few of the guys and i are going to pick up pizzas for lunch.”

“i’m okay,” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “thank you, though.’

“you don’t like hot coffee?”

“i prefer iced,” the agent muttered, surveying the empty desks, “i assume they cleared some space for us?”

“indeed,” hotch huffed, “if your phone rings, assume it’s garcia.”

“i feel like i’m at columbus p.d. all over again,” the brunette slid into the seat, rolling a few inches as she plucked the file out of her briefcase.

“well this is nowhere near that,” hotch rolled his eyes, leaning against the wooden surface.

“well it sure feels like it,” his throat tightened as her eyes drifted upwards, locking with his, “it sure fucking feels like it. now, if you don’t mind, i’m going to look over the file.”

“would you like some company, agent rivers?”

“i’m sure you have ‘unit chief’ matters to tend to,” the words were barbed, hot and venomous as she spat them out, “hovering around your new recruit like she’s some child is quite ridiculous don’t you think?”

“i should have you turn in your badge right now.”

“you seem like you’re all bark and no bite. you scolded me only only hours ago about the conference room, threatening to write me up. that tough exterior of yours is only an act. or at least, i think it is. you’re not going to write me up until you have a valid reason to. also, like you claimed earlier, ‘strauss put in a good word for me.’ i know you won’t terminate me. plus, you just went through all of that paperwork to get me here. do you really want to go through all of that again?”

“you piss me off.”

“good,” she puckered her lips, “maybe you should chat about that with strauss hmm? she’d probably just tell you to suck it up and that i’m here to stay.”

hotch’s jaw clenched, prepared to retaliate, yet the vibration in his pocket distracted him momentarily, the shrill ringtone piercing through the air, “yes?”

biting her tongue, rowan glanced back at the file, bringing her hand to her cheek. part of her was wailing, screaming and kicking, fighting the urge to study those horrid images. but the other part was driven, adrenaline coursing through her veins, pumping into her body.

even the slightest detail that she hadn’t noticed initially would be immensely helpful to building the profile, piecing together who this deranged individual was. flipping through the photos, rowan’s eyes narrowed.

although the team held a short briefing before departing from headquarters, there was one minor aspect about the way the bodies were laying in the shrubbery. the boys were all on their backs, dried blood coating sliced flesh. not a single article of clothing framed their bodies, just the thin layer of briefs or boxers.

her heart lurched as one arm was pressed tightly against their sides, while the other was raised. right hands pointed upwards, three fingers: the index, middle, and ring. yet, the pinky connected with the thumb, almost as if the children were purposely holding up three fingers.

“garcia called with an update,” his voice floated into her ears, “with the bits and pieces fed to her from jj and prentiss, we still have a lot of ground to cover. are you up for a drive?”

“wait,” rowan held up a hand, “hotch, were you ever a member of the boy scouts?”

his brow furrowed, confusion settling across his features, “what?”

“just look,” she huffed, gesturing to the images, “look at the way the unsub left their bodies. it’s a clear message, almost like how he dumped the bodies in clear sight. his arrogance blinded him, goading him to taunt us. but little did he know i would see right through his bluff. i think he stopped the killing spree because he knew we’d be looking for him. it’s like he wants us to find him.”

leaning over, hotch’s chest hovered above her shoulder blade, a hand settling on the desk. the ghost of his badge hung over her cheek, a speck of white in her peripheral vision. a hum rose in his throat, “you’re onto something here. let me call garcia.”

“did i make a break in the case?”

“perhaps, but don’t let that get to your head,” the supervisor brought his phone to his ear, “hey, garcia, i need you to run something for me. how many boy scout troops are in champaign county?”

*****

“you up for some drinks tonight?” prentiss giggled, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders, “it’s all on me, especially since we should be celebrating your first case with the bau!”

“i’m fine,but thank you,” rowan beamed, “i still have a forty minute drive ahead of me. i shouldn’t stay out too late.”

“oh come on,” jj groaned, “we won’t be out for long. just a couple rounds.”

“pleaseeee?” garcia practically pranced over to rowan, jutting her bottom lip out, “we don’t know a single thing about you. hotch had you under his watch all day.”

“okay,” she exhaled, “a few drinks, and then i need to get to my apartment. i’ve barely finished unpacking so i’ll have to rummage for my towels and pajamas when i get back.”

“you have an apartment?” prentiss queried, “do you have a roommate or do you live alone? did you bring a boyfriend with you, by chance?”

rowan blinked, “uh, no. i live alone.”

“good thing you’re a fbi agent huh?” garcia winked, “c’mon, we know the perfect bar.”

“maybe we’ll get you loosened up and you can spill some secrets,” jj chuckled, the sound airy and light.

“sometimes,” rowan felt the corner of her lips tug into a wide grin, “sometimes i truly wonder what i’m getting myself into working with all these other profilers.”

*****

{feel free to ask for a tag or let me know what you think! :))}

tagging: @tempus-ut-luceant @daffodin @kleinbluu @inlovewithaaronhotchner @spencerreidsbitch @art-and-thoughts @criminallminds @ethade3

#hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #cm

16 notes · View notes

3arzal · 4 years ago

Text

sincerity is scary (part 1)

nathan mackinnon / reader

3,200+ words (for this part at least)

friends to lovers. this turned out angstier than i originally planned in my head um...

warning for swearing

author’s note: many months ago, i said i was done with writing, then i clowned myself. this is the first time i’m writing an x reader type of fic because i used to write kpop bg pairings so idk how decent this will be lol. anyway, this is a highly personal and self-indulgent fic and something i’ve wanted to write for a very long time. to all my fellow hopeless-romantic tomboys out there waiting for their turn in love, this one goes to you. i said i was content with reading fics because i’m too lazy to write but oh well fucking shit.

Your first memory including Nate was his fourth birthday party. It was a memory that makes you smile come a time that you think about it while spacing out. You remember it vaguely, but all the details don’t even matter. You remember sitting next to him at the big table as he blows his cake. There’s a picture of that somewhere in the photo albums in your parents’ house. You remember being the new kid in the neighbourhood, but you lived next to the MacKinnon’s. Even if Nate had a few friends from nursery, you eventually became his best friend. You were a shout away from him and all the details don’t matter, because until now that you’re both twenty five, you’re still the bestest of friends even if you lived in different American states--him in Colorado and you finally landing your dream job in New York City.

It was a special friendship that had been rock solid for twenty one years. You know he has a lot of people in his life now being the NHL superstar that he is. You know he considers some of the guys and some of his teammates as his best friends as well. All of that did not bother you to say the least. It was okay, because he was meant for great things and you were there to witness him achieve everything he longed and wished for since you were kids. You know you will always have a place in his heart, and him in yours, because that’s what best friends do, right? They’re each other’s biggest support system, away or together.

You were there in all of his home games, you spent almost all of your childhood with him in the rink, he gladly participated in any hobby you had at the time, and most of all, he made sure that if he had free time, it was all yours. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend and neither can he.

Now, as you sit in front of him in a hotel restaurant in the middle of Aspen at his birthday dinner on a trip he insisted you two take before the pre-season starts, you stare at him in part-shock-part-confusion as he lays his heart out on the table with a confession you did not see coming at all: “I guess I’ve been in love with you all this time.”

Now, see, you have always been Nate’s tomboy best friend. You were the girl who played hockey with him when you were kids and the girl who skateboarded all throughout middle school. You were the girl no guy has ever looked at like that, because you were different from all the pretty blondes and skinny girls and conventionally female specimen that boys would usually like. It didn’t bother you, not until high school anyway, when you finally crushed on some other guy that wasn’t in yours and Nate’s friend group. It was the biggest infatuation of your life so far, and when you realized he’ll never look at you like how he looks at the girls who wear skirts and tank tops, you gave up on even trying to feel.

“Are you seriously looking at skirts?” You remember Nate asking you one time you were both in the mall and he caught you lingering around skirts. You were both sixteen at the time, and he just got back from his morning hockey practice. You looked down on your usual oversized tee and baggy pants and your favorite pair of tattered Vans and thought, yeah, how can you even choose to wear a skirt willingly? It didn’t offend you or anything, his question was purely out of curiosity and not one of judgment.

You shrugged at him, “Don’t you think it’s about time I dress more girly? I’m turning seventeen soon, and I still haven’t had a boyfriend.”

“I dunno, you dress fine to me.” Nathan said then, and then it hit you--if Nate says you look fine then other people’s opinion shouldn’t even matter. He was your bestest friend, and you trust him because you have to. You should. But he’s still a guy, and you’re a teenage girl who’s becoming more self-conscious as the days go by because that’s how life goes when you’re sixteen and hormonal. You shrug it off, though, because looking pretty was the least of your concerns anyway.

The following year, you get asked out on a date by one of the guys you went to middle school with. He was decent, and you were consistently talking to him and hanging out the past summer. He made you laugh and he became such a charmer since you last met him when you were pre-pubescent kids. It was your first date ever, and a week before you were highly stressing out on what you should wear, on what you should do, because you were seventeen and had no experience being with someone other than, lo and behold, Nathan.

He was away from you now, doing his hockey thing and being great, but phone calls were still consistent between the two of you, and after stressing out for two whole hours trying to rummage the internet for Tips On How To Nail Your First Date, you finally give up and whine to him over the phone.

“Him? You’re going on a date with him? Wasn’t he like...a wimpy kid back then or something?” His voice is tired on the other line. His team lost tonight, and you know he’s frustrated about it, but he doesn’t really talk to you about it because he chooses not to. You’re going to change that soon because you know he’s too hard on himself when he loses. He knows you’re there to listen if he wants to whine, but for some reason he never talks about a loss with you anymore. Not like he used to back when you were younger and you still lived near each other.

“Nathan, be nice.” You rarely call him Nathan because to you he has always been Nate. It means you’re dead serious right now. You mess up your short hair and stare at all the possible clothing options you’ve laid out on your bed. It’s mostly t-shirts, the ones that are close to your actual size, and then you realized you have no jeans that actually fit because all of them are baggy ones.

“Wow, she’s calling me Nathan. Who’s that guy?” He calls from the other line. His speech is turning more slurry, like he’s already falling asleep but trying hard to fight it. “But seriously, why do you need to dress up, anyway? Your clothes are fine.”

“You’re not a girl, you wouldn’t understand.” You tell him in a moment of miniscule irritation--not with him, but with yourself, because it then hits you: you want to impress this guy. You want to appear different for him, because it’s your first ever date, and finally someone’s looking at you and making you feel pretty--like a girl. “Oh my god…” You croak after spacing out, and you jump a bit when you hear Nate through the speaker phone, forgetting that he’s still on the other line.

“What’s wrong?”

“Holy shit. I just realized I’m finally trying to get in touch with my girly side. Seventeen years too late for that.” You snort at how ridiculous you’re being, at how silly this whole situation is because you’ve never tried to change who you were before attraction came in the way. You realized you were turning into a woman without knowing it, and it’s not really bothersome because you are a woman. It’s just something different from what you’re used to growing up even if you were no stranger to it having an older sister who is undeniably more female than you. Nate didn’t have any problem that you have a vagina but can also beat up any guy who picks on you for being such a tomboy. Nate loved it when you played hockey with him even if he beat you every time. He loved watching you skate, cackles when you fall down, but gets concerned as he should when you get scrapes and bruises. He’s fine with what you are--with the way you dress, the way you project yourself to people, the way you’re not just any other girl. You’re his best friend and he loves you just as you are.

You remember that time at the mall last year when you were looking at those skirts, you remember what he told you back then, and then you remember why it doesn’t matter what you wear on a date. If any other people can’t handle you the way that you are then they don’t really have to matter to you, too.

The date approaches and you give up, thinking if this guy talks to you and even ended up asking you out he should accept you as you are, right?

You’re wrong, because three dates in all he ever did was subtly criticize everything you did. He was trying to groom you into the girlfriend you can never be for him, and that appalled you so much and hurt you at the same time. You think he’d be one of the few guys who’ll understand that as much as you want to, you can’t really change who you are for someone else.

Nathan was livid. “Fuck that guy. He’s nuts.” He crackles through one of your nightly phone calls. “He’s ugly, he sounds like a rat, and I bet he smells like--”

“Okay, enough.” You chuckle at his frustration despite feeling down the past few days post ‘break-up’. “It’s okay, really, but I’m not that girl for him.”

“You’re not. You’re like leagues cooler than him, anyway.”

“Damn right I am.”

In the following years as he started his NHL career in Colorado, and with you moving to New York for your job, you’ve only seen him a handful of times although the Facetimes were still consistent. The time difference was there, and even if your calls only lasted about ten minutes or so as you both caught up with your lives, it was enough. You didn’t need two hours with him on the phone, because yours and Nate’s friendship was as solid as an asteroid crater on land. It could be two years since you’ve last spoken to one another and when you do see each other again it’s like nothing has changed. You’re grateful for it, because with you having a new life in NYC and him making a home out of Denver, he’s still the one piece of Cole Harbour you have anywhere you go.

You forget about dating as you focus on your job. You love it, and you love living in New York. You’ve made friends that you can already consider as family. You have a great life ahead of you and you know it. You watch Nate’s games when he’s in town. You meet him back home in Canada when you managed to get a week off from work. Life is good and steady. For a while you thought that the happiness you managed to find will last a long time, and it did...until it didn’t. That’s when you realized.

Nate gets a girlfriend. Her name is incredibly girly and she’s fucking beautiful.

The Facetimes and phone calls were less now, has been for the last couple of months, really, but that did not bother you at all because they were having a fantastic season and you understand his job comes first.

What hurt you though was how he just dropped the news like a bomb through text. And you two never ever texted. You didn’t even get a scoop that he was seeing someone, never even mentioned anyone when you two manage to sneak in calls in between your busy schedules. It’s on a sad and dull Friday night when you were sulking on your couch because nobody was available to hang out with you to get a drink when the text comes.

‘Guess I have a gf now lol. Her name’s __’ Attached is a picture of her seated across from Nate on what appears to be a restaurant.

You sit up in alarm, your heart beating a mile per second, followed by a heavy ache in your chest. You don’t know what to feel yet you’re feeling everything all at once--surprise, confusion, anger. The happiness is questionable. You sit there for a whole five minutes staring at the very random text when the text bubble appears on the screen.

‘You know it says when you’ve read my message ryt’

You don’t really know and you don’t really care right now. You want to yell at him and demand details, but you’re really confused as to why he’s texting when he usually just calls you. It was eight in the evening when you decided to sleep away the dull ache in your chest and that heavy heart of yours. You turn your phone on silent as you put it inside the drawer of your bedside table.

The following day you wake up at noon. You instinctively reach for your phone on the bedside table when your hands come up with nothing--and then you remember where you put it the previous night. You didn’t dare check it, though, because the moment you wake up you know the ache is still there. You remember those damn texts, you remember everything you’ve felt as you lie in your bed for hours when your mind and body refuses to shut down.

You skip breakfast because you weren’t really hungry, so you do your laundry instead. It leads to you cleaning your bathroom, and then that leads to cleaning your entire apartment, and when you managed to finish it was almost four in the afternoon. You were too tired to cook, so you munch on cereal. You chug several bottles of water after when you realize you haven’t had any the entire day. You take a quick shower. You switched on Netflix on your flatscreen and you managed to finish two movies. You stare blankly on the rolling credits as you feel your mind shut down. You’ve managed to avoid thinking about Nate and his new girlfriend for the entire day, and now that it’s evening again you feel every damn feeling come back. You finally decide to check on your phone.

Fifteen messages and ten phone calls all from Nate. Funny how that turned out. You check some more and there were texts and a few calls from your sister and from a few friends from back home. You check that out first, and you were surprised that they all seem to ask you the same damn thing: You okay? Where are you? Nate texted me saying you weren’t answering your phone.

Ten phone calls left unanswered.

Then you finally get to his messages:

‘Why you leaving me on read?’

‘Heyyyyyy’

‘y/n…..!!!!!!!!!’

‘I’m getting worried wtf’

‘Y u aint answering meeeee’

‘I’ve called five times!!’

‘TEN times!’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Holy shit where the hell are you’

‘Don’t joke with me like this I’m fucking serious answer your phone’

‘Even your sister can’t reach you’

‘What’s happening? Are you at a party and drunk off your ass in some dark alley in nyc?’

‘Jesus i don’t even know your friends there i can’t contact anyone to check on you’

‘Just please call me back asap. I’m fucking worried bc you always have your phone with u’

‘Hope you’re okay’

It’s kinda funny how he stopped trying, because you haven’t been on your phone the entire day as well and there weren’t any follow up texts or calls this day. You don’t know when the bitterness settled in but now you finally know what you feel and you feel bad that you’re feeling that way. Why are you reacting this badly? You don’t even know, but to calm his dramatic ass down you finally reply to him.

‘Sorry lol im sick i’ve been asleep and weak the whole day’

You jump on the call that lights up your screen immediately and you panic while thinking of ways to sound sick.

“Hey…”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Is how he greets you. “I’ve been worried sick the whole day.” You suppress a snort because you don’t know how true that is. “You okay?”

“Not really…” You try to croak. “Got a raging fever.”

“How long? Maybe you should go to the hospital. Don’t you have someone who can drive you?”

“Unlike you, I don’t have someone.” Is what slips out of your mouth before you can even think about it. You gasp at your own display of bitterness because that sounded harsher than you intended. You know he means well, and of course you know that he knows you have many friends in the city. He wasn’t specifically pointing out a boyfriend, but you sure are making things big. Stupid fucking bitterness. Stupid fucking jealousy. You tried to deny it, but when you’re close to crying over your best friend getting a girlfriend that he apparently hid from you, then you know what it really is after all.

His silence is deafening and it’s the first time you’ve ever felt awkward with him and you’re not even together in the same damn place.

As the silence stretches on, you hear a voice in the background call out. “Nate? You coming to bed?”

And you beat him before he can voice out a reply to her, or to you. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself. You should go, I’m hanging up. Catch ya later.”

You don’t ‘catch up’ with him, not for another three days, and even then it’s still through text. Your last phone call had been two weeks prior to his girlfriend revelation. You tell him you’ve recovered from your (fake) fever and that you’ve been busy with work you missed. He tells you about his schedules and games and the new guy who’s recently traded to the Avs. There wasn’t another phone call for weeks to come and it’s weird not hearing his voice for more than a month.

You’ve finally managed to put your jealousy aside as you try to ignore that, yes, you’re probably in love with Nate without you even knowing. Over the weeks that passed you’ve come to a very, very annoying realization that the reason why you don’t and can’t date is because no one will even compare to Nate. You’ve managed to put him on a pedestal when you really shouldn’t have but it’s hard when he’s the best guy you’ve ever known. He’s the only guy who understands you and knows you inside out. He has no judgement for who you are. He was the one you shared your entire life with and no one of the opposite gender will probably solidify himself on you as Nate did. You think life has been okay because it’s you and him against the world even if you’ve been long distance for a long time now. Him not telling you about this girl from the beginning really, really hurt you more than it should, but you will come to realize it’s the wake-up call you badly needed.

You’re fucking in love with Nathan MacKinnon and that scares you.

#nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #oh look she tried to fucking write #nhl fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #the word realize has been in this things too many times im so fucking sorry #nhl fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

lovelystarlings · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Five - Neville’s Very Clumsy

——————————————————————————

The next morning was, eventful, to say the least. Camille had always been an early riser, her parents had insisted on her and sisters waking up at 5 am on the dot every morning, they had said it was to prepare them for when they themselves had families to wake up for but Camille knew it was just to torture them more then her parents already did. So when she woke up the next morning, wrapped in the velvety covers that they were provided, she felt a sense of tranquillity wash over her. There was no nagging mum leaning over her, no crying Gabrielle in the bed next to her and no annoying perfect Fleur singing in the shower for everyone to hear. It was quiet.

Just how she liked it.

Spinning her legs over the edge carefully, trying not to wake up the sleeping Hermione next to her, Camille walked over to the bathroom door that was left open on the opposite side of the strangely large dormitory.

Picking up her uniform on the way, Camille entered the bathroom quietly, looking around in awe at the extravagant manner of the simple room. On the wall facing the door stood four separate sinks, each having a mirror on the wall above and a small chest of drawers underneath them. Seeing as no one had claimed one yet, Camille chose the one closest to the shower, for once getting first choice of something. Placing her wash bag next to the sink, she carefully hung her uniform over the railing by the shower, not wanting to crease it straight away.

Grabbing her hairbrush out of her bag, she began to run it through her hair gently. Having slept with it in plaits had done her a huge favour, the usual straight and thick mess had been tamed into ringlets that now sat elegantly on her shoulders. Pinning her hair back with a clip, leaving the bottom layer down, Camille felt at peace with how she looked today. Sure, she wasn't as beautiful, after all she was only young, but she wasn't necessarily ugly (dear god did she hate that word), and that was enough.

Hearing movement from the room next her, and the familiarity of the other girls voices, she quickly pulled her shirt over her head and her skirt quickly over her hips, Camille turned to the door smiling at Hermione, who seemed shocked that someone was up before her.

"How are you up so early?" She spoke, her hand running through the bundle of curls that sat on top of her head. She walked over to the sink beside the French girl, placing her own stuff down gently.

"You know what they say," spoke Camille, brushing past Hermione with a smirk. "The early bird gets the worm."

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. It also didn't help that Camille knew where none of her classes were. And neither did Hermione, Or Ron. Or Harry.

Though after fumbling about the school for a long time they had managed to find most of their classes. And Camille had discovered a lot about her teachers.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Camille had noticed that Neville particularly enjoyed this one.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up, which didn't help Camille in the slightest considering she had no idea who either of them were.

Professor McGonagall had to be Camille's favourite, however. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Camille had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione and Camille a rare smile, both girls giving each other a proud look as they linked arms and skipped off to the next lesson , leaving the boys and their matches far behind.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. Camille vaguely remembered her father telling Fleur (and Fleur told her) about an encounter he had with a vampire once, a very lovely vampire he had told her. His name was Carlisle, and he was a doctor. Camille had been shocked that a vampire could be a doctor, but her father had never lied to Fleur once.

Professor Quirrell's turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Camille had befriended the Weasley Twins then and there, she thought they were charming and funny, and rather attractive if she was honest. They could well be veela, she thought, despite knowing that they were pure blood. She wondered what their mother and father looked like.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Camille and Hermione had been lucky enough to grab seats at the front, neither girls wanting to miss a thing. However, if Camille had known who their Professor was, she would've sat at the back, or even better out of the classroom.

His name was Professor Snape, and he was a tall man, who always seemed to be dressed in a black coat that billowed behind him like the wind itself followed him. His hair was pitch black and greasy, like it hadn't been watched in months, years even.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, Hermione scribbling down most of it, the sound of her quill annoying Camille slightly, though she didn't say anything. She'd hate to insult the girl. Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sit," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Camille heard a loud noise behind her, and turned round to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, shaking with laughter, and she had to hide a snicker herself. The three looked like utter pillocks.

"I don't know, sir."

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling, despite Camille's attempts to calm her down, not wanting her friend to embarrass herself more than she had. She had the feeling someone was gonna snap, whether it be Harry or Snape.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Camille laughed harmoniously at the sass Harry held in his voice, drawing the attention of the class to her. She had forgotten that most of them had probably never heard veela laugh before, and hers probably had a strange effect on the bunch, considering the majority of them were pre-pubescent teenage boys.

"Sorry," she squeaked, and slumped down in her chair. Hermione patting her head patronisingly. Though she too felt strange at the heavenly sound that had escaped the French girl's mouth.

"Sit down and be quiet," he snapped at Camille. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, though Camille had already been making her notes during the commotion. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Idiote, thought Camille. The poor boy had been living with muggles his whole life, how could Snape thing he'd know the simplest thing about potions. Idiote, she repeated.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Camille who had been paired with the blonde boy, the only two whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Camille flinched, seeing the hurt look on the poor boy's face, unlike Malfoy, or rather Draco as he had asked her to call him, who had laughed.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

Camille and Hermione left the dungeon as soon as they could, both wanting to avoid the catastrophe of cleaning up the spilled potion.

#harry #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hermione #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #fluff #hogwarts #veela #fleur delacour

8 notes · View notes

clansayeed · 5 years ago

Text

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 5: Every Elite

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

When the Pack refuses to help them Taylor and Ryder turn to the lone wolf Cal as a last resort. He’s happy to provide for a simple favor: break into New Orleans’ most exclusive supernatural club to save his little brother from a fate worse than death. Easy, right? If only.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Taylor’s craft is made to be seen. He’s never been one of those types of actors who needs to imagine the entire audience empty to perform at his best. In fact, the larger the crowd the more he feels like they’re a mass of bodies and heartbeats than individuals he’s there to perform for.

The audience swells and becomes one single, solid beating heart — one mind and one capacity for emotion that he’s there to bring out. That’s his talent.

But he has a great respect for those who prefer the silence and solitude to hone their skills. They aren’t performing for anyone but themselves — improving despite the temptation to stay stagnant for their own sakes.

The piano player is one such artist. He’s no performer — no showman. Taylor’s pretty sure the man doesn’t even know he has a sole audience. Yet he keeps playing; rapid keystrokes never faltering to break the miasma of humidity that hangs over them.

He cuts into the world with his playing and knows the spaces left aren’t empty, but rather filled with melody.

Either the song — not one he recognizes — ends or the man simply decides to stop playing. Either way the tune ends abruptly; a life cut short. And he’s so taken by how it resonates in his chest that he does the only logical thing and applauds.

The piano player swings a denim-clad leg over the stool; stares at Taylor like a startled animal.

He probably shouldn’t have announced himself so loudly.

“S-Sorry if I scared you.”

The look he’s given — the threat assessed and deemed non-threatening — is definitely unimpressed.

“Yeah that’s… definitely not what happened.” Like the rest of the wolves the man inhales deeply through his nostrils. Unlike the rest of them he manages a bit of tact and doesn’t noticeably recoil. “Jesus, you smell like…”

“A hot mess, yeah I’ve been told.”

That gets a laugh and the man’s full attention — long legs swinging around away from the piano with elbows resting on jeans that have definitely seen better days. He’s the polar opposite of everything in the trophy room; nothing fancy about him except for his obvious skill with the piano.

It’s kind of nice for someone else to stick out like a sore thumb for a change.

“Nah, that ain’t it — well not all the way.” He sniffs again with his face tilted up into the air and Taylor really really tries not to laugh. Doesn’t know if he’ll somehow offend the entire Pack or something if he does. Ryder really should have given him the low-down…

“You smell like…”

Taylor waits for an answer but none comes. Sees the way the working man’s tan seems to drain from his face and leave behind something strange; almost haunted in his eyes.

Suddenly he really wishes he’d just gone with Ryder.

“Never mind.” Taylor tries to back track — moves to get up and hang out by the bottom of the stairs instead. But there’s a hand that stops just short of grabbing him that makes them both tense up.

Now he looks like the frightened animal.

“I offended you.” It’s not a question.

“What’s there to be offended about?”

The piano player brushes aside one of his mousy brown curls; looks Taylor in the eyes with such a startling honesty that he’s pretty sure his heart stops beating for a second.

“I don’t know,” is the measured reply, “you tell me.”

Well that isn’t happening, so… “Tell me what you were gonna say.”

The wolf leans back — gives them both some space. Shrugs and seems almost sheepish instead.

“A-ha… well I was gonna say you smell like my little brother. Then I realized how weird that sounded since, y’know, I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before. One of those ‘quit while you’re ahead’ things.”

He rubs the back of his head. Shoulders hunched and a measly half-smile that’s disarmingly charming. Sure Taylor’s still confused (even more so now) but it’s better than the assumed alternative.

But he does turn away from the door at the very least.

“Gonna tell me exactly how that works?”

“What d’you mean?”

“How I, uh, smell like your little brother?”

“Well puberty ain’t exactly a science to the nose.”

Puberty. God, he actually laughs. Feels even more ashamed about the obvious sweat stains on his underarms but given where they are it’s not the worst of the multiple stenches in the air.

The man continues on a borderline ramble; “And I’m gonna go ahead and assume most people wouldn’t want to be compared to a pre-pubescent teenager, you know? So then I really didn’t wanna say anything.”

It’s the most genuine interaction he’s had since all of this began — and he didn’t know how much he needed it until now. Ivy, Garrus, Krom; they were all so so great but they loved talking about it all; loved delving into the things weird and strange that Taylor was still trying to wrap his head around.

But sniffing put aside there’s nothing more casual than not knowing what to say in front of a cute guy. Talk about your ordinary problems.

“Cal — by the way — Cal Lowell.”

Taylor takes Cal’s offered hand in that usual way — pressing just a little too hard to affirm his masculinity that he’s so often okay with shrugging away from the surface. It’s how men — and Southern men especially — interact. He’s kind of an expert on the matter.

But Cal’s grip is stronger than other men. Something Taylor just accepts along with the almost sizzling heat of his body radiating from just the palm. Must be a werewolf thing.

“Taylor Hunter.”

“Who brought you along for the party, Taylor?”

Man it’s nice to hear his name instead of ‘kid.’ “Oh, actually —”

His reply is drowned out by the sudden slam of a door above them; followed by thundering footsteps and shouts that were quickly becoming not-so-muffled.

“I knew you were stupid, Ryder, but if you think I’m just gonna push all you done aside and let you come onto my territory demandin’ favors you’ve got less brain in ya than I thought!”

“Christ, Kristof, tuck your damn tail and listen to me, will ya?!”

Cal squeezes a little too hard — makes Taylor yank his hand away. But when he goes to ask the guy what the hell it looks like he’s staring straight through him.

“Shit,” hisses Cal under his breath; and swerves around Taylor rather than pushing him aside to join the argument quickly approaching them.

The man who must be Kristof is hairy. That’s all Taylor can really think of him at first glance. He’s tall but not Krom-level of tall (his new measurement standard) and wide-set in the shoulders with muscle and scars both old and new criss-crossing one another down his exposed arms.

Add a little white to his bushy beard and he could be a budget-mall Santa, Taylor thinks.

Then he catches Ryder leaping down the steps two at a time to catch up.

“If you weren’t gonna hear me out then why agree to meet with me in the first place?” snaps the Nighthunter; teeth grit and knuckles white on the banister.

He’s got height on Kristof, being a few steps higher and all, but he might as well be facing down a charging bull with the way the Pack Alpha rounds on him in red-faced fury.

“Figured it was about time you apologized for what you did to poor Jimbo,” and the fact he isn’t shouting definitely dials the tension up to eleven, “but what’s a lit’le more blood on yer hands?”

Taylor doesn’t have to ask who ‘poor Jimbo’ was. Can get enough from the context. And while he doesn’t want to get involved in something that was before he came along he’s be remiss if he didn’t feel uneasy at the thought of his bodyguard as a killer.

But didn’t that mean he’d kill to keep Taylor safe?

Ryder recoils enough for Kristof to gain the advantage; come up a step so they’re eye-to-eye.

“Don’t you gimme that fake remorse. Not in my home. Ain’t a word in Jimbo’s mem’ry — ‘stead you waltz up in here demandin’ favors?! When you ain’t even got the balls —!”

“Whoa whoa — hey!”

Cal realizes it’s a bad move just a moment too late. Octavia settles her grip on the second floor railing and looks down with a jaw set and proverbial hackles raised. But that’s nothing compared to how Kristof looks at him — goes from red to purple in the face at the mere sight of Cal.

“You stay outta this, boy.”

“Kristof — I just think —”

His reaction has to be purely werewolf. Something real wolves can’t imitate but humans could never understand. Keeps Taylor enraptured as he starts to realize he’s been thinking about them all wrong; that there is no place where the man ends and the wolf begins — but rather that they’re one in the same.

Kristof’s muscles ripple under thick skin. Something shifts on the stale air like a breeze and in less time than it takes a heart to beat Cal’s backing down with his head to the floor.

Baring the back of his neck.

He’s given Kristof an inch and the Alpha takes a mile. Advances a step just to make sure Cal backs off in a strange and unspoken dance.

“I’d say given your predicament, Lowell, challengin’ your Alpha is the last thing you wanna be doin’.”

Cal doesn’t have to say anything to agree. Even when he raises his head he won’t — or can’t — meet Kristof’s eyes.

Before he does something (else) stupid, Taylor grabs the cuff of Cal’s flannel and pulls him back.

“Best you and your pup leave now, Ryder,” Octavia calls from above, “before you overstay your welcome.”

And Nik, literally a dumbass, looks like he’s about to argue. “Ryder,” Taylor calls — practically pleads, “let’s just go. We’ll find what we need somewhere else.” That doesn’t even matter, he wants to say, but we’re not safe here anymore.

It takes him a second to move around the wall of tension named Kristof; looks like he’s about to call the Alpha out on the power move until Taylor manages to grab hold of him, too, and makes it easy on them both.

Kristof stands silent save his breathing — husky, heavy breaths that fill his lungs and puff out his chest.

“Show ‘em out, Lowell.” Octavia calls when the three of them are already halfway to the front of the cabin. “Then go for a run — clear ya head.”

Not like they’ve already forgotten the way out but it is what it is; a way to diffuse the situation. Judging by the looks of things it’s a role Octavia plays quite often.

Cal’s brought them all the way to the pergola at the property entrance before he finally seems to calm down enough to speak. Looks at Taylor with an apologetic gaze.

“Thanks for that — gettin’ me outta there.”

“Wasn’t any trouble,” though he does throw a look back to Ryder; already busy on his phone and taking out his frustration with every punch to the keys, “thanks for trying to help. I figured out he had history with, uh, the pack, but…”

Cal nods. “Guess you’ve just met him, then?”

“How’d you know?”

“Ryder’s a bit infamous around New Orleans.”

“For being a Nighthunter?”

“For being a dick about being a Nighthunter.”

Like he’s psychic, Ryder barks for Taylor not a moment later; “Come on, kid! We gotta get back to the Shift. It’s gonna be a steep price to pay but Ivy thinks she can get what we need.”

“Coming!” He calls — offers Cal what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, might go for that run…”

But there’s a distracted distance in his reply. He watches Cal’s focus flicker between him and Ryder behind. “‘Get what you need,’ what’s that mean? You needed somethin’ from Kristof?”

“Oh — yeah. We’re putting together a protection spell I guess.”

“Then you came here for Hunter’s Sage.”

It’s enough to catch Ryder’s ear and haul him over to their conversation. Not that he looks at Cal with any less suspicion but it seems to be a mutual thing.

“What d’you know about Hunter’s Sage?”

“I know it’s a standard ingredient for protection magic,” answers the werewolf, “and I also know it’s one of the few things the Pack keeps locked up tight. Whoever your friend is sayin’ they’ve got access to some — it can’t be local. And we both know if that stuff ain’t fresh your spell’ll be about as protective as a house pet.”

Ryder’s teeth grind audibly. “I’ve seen my share of scary pets.”

“But do you really wanna take that chance?”

Judging by the way he looks at Taylor; Cal wants to help. Might even know a way to do so — but if it means going against his Alpha…

“I don’t want to risk getting you in more trouble,” Taylor says, “especially after what happened back there.”

“Ain’t a risk if there’s a big enough reward.”

And much to Taylor’s surprise — and Ryder’s lack thereof — Cal gives a curt nod. “If I wasn’t in the situation I’m in… I’d offer it to you for the sake of keeping the peace. The Lowell’s have always been in good with the Alpha — he’d huff and puff for a few weeks but eventually forget about it.

“But that ain’t the case at the moment. So if you’re desperate enough for the Sage I’m more than willing to provide it as a payment.”

The hunter and the wolf mirror one another; puff out their chests and cross their arms tight. The fragility of their combined masculinity is so thick Taylor’s at risk of choking on it.

“All right — I’ll bite,” Ryder quirks a brow, “‘payment’ for what?”

Even though the Nighthunter would be the one doing said job it’s Taylor that Cal turns to. The nearest torch flame reflects like a burning passion in his eyes.

“Payment for rescuing my little brother before Kristof has him killed.”

The door is already open on Cal’s side and that’s the one closest to the curb; so it’s logical for Taylor to follow the tall werewolf out of the cab instead of joining Nik in the middle of the street.

So why does it look like for a brief second Ryder’s irritated that he didn’t?

But the look fades away; goes through Ryder’s barely-expressive version of the five stages of grief as he sees where Cal’s had the cab take them.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

Cal isn’t kidding anyone. “Now you see what I mean.”

From Taylor’s vague mental memory of those first tours he took of the new city he called home they have to be somewhere in the Upper Garden District. Usually the houses are closer together — though no less grand — but the place they’ve been dropped off in front of has its own lot cleared. As if to heighten its importance.

Or its value.

A roundabout of freshly-paved drive circles a fountain made of black iron. Lights reflect on the water and change from the soft yellow of liquid sunlight to deep emerald green and a blue he’s only seen in pictures of the ocean on a cloudless day.

The manor is no less splendid, either. Filled with the old-world charm of New Orleans; her vines of ivy climbing and spreading fingers of foliage across the vast wings and around windows both large and small. But there’s nothing run-down about it. This place is well-kept; well-loved, well-visited.

“All right — run this whole thing by me again now that I know what shit we’re steppin’ in.” Ryder demands without taking his eyes off of the estate.

Cal, on the other hand, can’t bear to look at it.

“Donny’s a good kid. Came into his wolf on time just like everyone else. He’s a whiz at math, too. Maybe that’s why he thought he could gamble — like there aren’t any card-counting hexes on any place of Smoke’s.

“He was just tryin’ to help. If I hadn’t lost my job at the building site…”

When he trails off Taylor reaches out and rests what he hopes is a reassuring hand on a broad shoulder. Cal leans into it — throws back a small but no-less grateful smile. It’s enough for him to continue.

“Whatever happened, he got in deep. One night he’s digging around the trailer for every spare nickel and dime and the next day he’s not waiting for me outside school like he’s supposed to. I went to Kristof about it and — y’know, he’s a good Alpha temper aside; takes care of his Pack — and he put some feelers out. Only they led him to…”

“They led him to Persephone.” answers Ryder, who gives a jerk of his head to the glamorous mansion.

Taylor looks between them. “Anyone gonna explain what Persephone is?”

The gesture Ryder gives at the building isn’t subtle. Nor is the look Taylor gives him because no, really?

“It’s a high-end club for high-end supernatural folks.” Cal tries only to end up getting corrected anyway.

“It’s the club, more like. You can only get in with a signet membership and people have killed for less in this town. It’s no place we wanna go sticking our noses.”

Taylor frowns. “But Donny…”

“Whatever debts he racked up ain’t somethin’ that can go away just as easy. The people who own this place aren’t exactly known for their forgiving nature.”

Beside Taylor, Cal’s knuckles crack one by one as he balls his hands into fists. Ryder shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. It’s a lost cause.”

“Then so will gettin’ your hands on any Hunter’s Sage.” Cal immediately regrets his words when he sees the way Taylor’s face falls; tries to backtrack. “I don’t — I want to help — really I do. You seem like a good guy, Taylor, and if I can help…”

But Taylor isn’t mad at Cal. “I get it. Your family comes first.”

“Exactly.”

“So why’s Kristof gonna maul him?” Ryder asks.

“For mixing the Pack up with the Smoke? He’d put him down just to make an example out of him for anyone else who might try something similar. It’ll be hard to do but being the Alpha isn’t an easy job. Even if he doesn’t kill him outright, the thought of Donny being banished…

“He’s the only family I have.” He’s trying not to seem vulnerable as best he can but his eyes betray him.

Never has there been a more apt time to think the expression looking like a kicked puppy.

Sage or no Sage, Taylor wants to help. Doesn’t know a thing about what he’s getting himself into but when has he ever made consciously smart choices? Ryder, however, seems to be heavily weighing on the pros and cons.

Well, fuck that.

“So how do we get in?”

Nik scoffs in disbelief. “Was I talking to myself when I said —”

“I’m sorry,” he rounds on his bodyguard with hands on hips and spite in his soul, “did I suggest walking in the front door? No. But there’s gotta be another way in. There always is in the movies.”

“This ain’t a movie, Taylor.”

“Well maybe we should start pretending it is.”

At least Cal looks like he’s starting to get on board with the plan. “What did you have in mind?”

It’s like one of the fountain’s color-changing lights sparks atop his head.

As someone who has never seen a goblin before, Taylor would like to point out what he’s keeping his cool very well. Like, well enough to earn whatever crazy non-alcoholic mixology madness Garrus is no doubt cooking up in his and Ryder’s absence.

Because freaking out wouldn’t help them, now would it? And they could really use all the help they can get.

“I didn’t send out no order for some Bayou filth,” the goblin woman continues on her rampage of scorn, “you must have the wrong address! As if I would serve my guests anything that grew in a local swamp.”

Taylor adjusts the small stack of crates he’s carrying — feels his fingers go numb and quickly moves them back to their aching spot. Better in pain than no feeling at all.

He’s definitely more than a little jealous at how easy Ryder makes his haul look.

“I’ll try not to take offense, ma’am, and for both our sakes I won’t go mentionin’ to my Alpha your little snipe and question of the quality of our goods. But how about you cut a guy some slack? I’m just the delivery.”

Cal’s either done this before or is a natural; lets his accent draw out his words while he oh-so-casually leans in the doorway of Persephone’s delivery entrance. He’s two heads taller than the goblin head chef but that doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

She curls back a green lip in a snarl; reveals a row of large yellow teeth like blunted knives.

“Oh, you’re wantin’ me to cut you slack? When you’re the mangy hound keeping me from finishing a very specific order for a very specific client?”

“Well I can’t go about the rest of my drop-offs until this one is done!”

“And how is that my problem?!”

“I’m making it your problem!” There’s definitely no pretending the ire in Cal’s voice is fake. He pulls a random piece of folded paper out of his back pocket and starts waving it around without actually unfurling it — conveniently right out of the chef’s gnarled green grasp.

“I got a dozen more orders to fill tonight and no room on my truck —” —Cal jerks his thumb behind them but stays right in the goblin’s way; keeps her from looking for what definitely isn’t there— “— for this crap! So let me and my guys drop it off and we’re done!”

“I told you I won’t serve —”

“Christ, woman! You don’t gotta serve it; hell, burn the shit for all I care! I don’t get paid unless I got an empty truck at the end of my route. And you sure as hell ain’t gettin’ paid while arguin’ with me.”

She opens her mouth to argue but the sound of breaking glass and porcelain is the only thing that comes out. Makes her whirl around with a high-pitched and gravelly shriek as she takes in whatever mess as been made.

“You rotten-toothed fools,” she howls, “not the Ming china!”

Thank god for the broken Ming china because any longer arguing and they might have drawn unwanted attention. Well, more unwanted attention.

It’s enough of a tragedy to get the head chef to rush inside without bothering to scold them, send them off, or even shut the door properly. Easily propped open with Cal’s boot.

He holds a hand back to keep them from rushing in — Taylor’s about to very loudly protest when the noise inside starts growing into a full-blown cacophony.

“Now!” He shoulders open the door with just enough space for Nik and Taylor to rush inside, then keeps it from slamming shut as he comes in last.

Only now Taylor’s plan is done and he’s at a loss for how to go forward. Until Cal practically shoves him to follow Ryder along a side hallway out of the kitchen staff — and head chef’s — sights.

Lucky for them that must have been some expensive china because staff of all types, sizes, and goblin-shades rush by them without so much as a ‘hello.’ They test every door in the hallway until they find one unlocked and dump their cargo haul without ceremony.

“So we’re in,” Cal huffs, no doubt heart beating with the same thrill of almost-not-quite-caught that Taylor’s is, “now what?”

“Now we find your brother and get the hell out.”

When he finally catches his breath the werewolf takes a deep breath in — nostrils flaring and eyelids fluttering closed. His nose crinkles slightly, catches the scent of something foul.

“What, what is it?” asks Taylor with worry.

Cal shakes his head. “Someone burned a catfish back there.”

“Focus, Fido.”

If he wants to bite Nik’s head off for the comment he holds it in well. So Taylor smacks a leather-clad arm for him.

They wait — and wait — and wait… but Cal’s shoulders sag in frustration and disappointment. “It’s no use. The kitchen’s messing with my nose. I thought I had him, but…”

“So we just go further in, right?” Taylor grabs for the door but a broad palm stops him in his tracks. Ryder glowers down at him.

“No. We wait until he can catch the scent from back here.”

“What? That’s stupid!”

“Yeah, about as stupid as going out into the ranks of Persephone during Mardi Gras. No signets, no threads; we’ll stick out like sore thumbs.”

“Some of us more than others…” mutters Cal under his breath; not quite soft enough for Nik not to hear.

“We’re not turning back.” And just in case the hunter might be in doubt Taylor yanks the door open; sends him staggering. “Or I’m not, at the very least. So are you gonna come be my body guard or what?”

Not that he gives Nik the chance to answer. Turns on his heel and marches straight out in all his raggedy un-refined glory with Cal the flannel-clad werewolf at his heels.

“I can’t believe this is the job that’s gonna kill me.” Mutters the Nighthunter under his breath — just before he jogs to catch up.

So far everything he’s come into contact with in this strange new world hasn’t been on the best side of friendly. Why should Persephone be any different?

And for the first time Taylor isn’t let down in the slightest. Not when they manage to slip their way out of the back rooms and onto what must be the main show floor.

The ceiling is all four stories high with a large glowing chandelier shining iridescent gemstone reflections down on every inch of the place. Two winding staircases branch off in different directions with velvet-encased landings on every floor.

All around them bodies lean on railings and various balconies. The floor is an addict’s paradise; no matter the vice. A large circular bar rotates in the middle of the sunken floor while around them dice roll, chips are collected, and cards are thrown down to mixed reactions of cheers and disappointed groans.

But it’s not even the physics-breaking space that’s the most interesting part. It’s the people. Well — if some of them are people, that is.

The collective net worth of the civilized world (and then some) has to be gathered on the diamond-studded (actual. fucking. diamonds) carpeting. They titter along, absorbed in their drinks and wealth and company just like Taylor would expect of an entirely mortal clientele.

Some of them look mortal, too — though he has to remind himself that might not hold true. A woman with bright blue scales for skin brushes past with a giggled “pardonnez-moi!” as she heads to catch a waitress and her tray of mini-somethings.

Some have tails, others talons, and just when he thinks he’s seen it all a bellowing call comes from the top floor and he looks up to see a snow-white swan dive off of the landing and turn into an obsidian crow mid-flight without so much as a fallen feather.

There’s a sudden warmth a this back and Taylor jumps, ready to shove off the offender, only to find Ryder there; leading him through the crowd to a shadowed corner of booths with curtains strung around them.

“You feeling okay?” He asks under his breath.

Taylor nods. “Yeah, why?”

He inches in the round booth until Ryder can comfortably sit beside him — finds himself looking around for any sign of Cal until he spots the wolf’s messy curls shadowing a group of fanged flappers on their way to the floor bar.

The most surprising sight — even with all the magic and delight — is turning to see Nik with concern creased in his forehead. The wrinkles overlapping on his scar awkwardly.

“Ryder, what’s wrong?”

“All this ain’t givin’ you a head-splitting ache?”

It’s such an out-there question — actually succeeds to pull Taylor’s attention away from each new bewildering sight to the very-average and very-mortal face of the man before him.

The bravado’s gone from Nik’s voice; replaced instead with… with some sort of sincerity he’s not used to. Not from him, anyway. Even back at the Graveyard Shift he still found a way to make light of Taylor’s situation and the hard, dark truths he had to learn.

If he didn’t know better, Taylor would dare say the man in front of him isn’t Nik Ryder. But because he hesitates in answering, because he instead chooses to take in the sight before him rather than brush it aside, that openness closes up real quick.

Which version was the real Nik Ryder? Now he wants to know.

“No,” and he places a hand over Ryder’s arm on the tabletop to keep him from letting that be all that’s said, “it’s like you said back at Garrus’, you know? I stopped resisting it and now… I don’t see anything but the truth. Like there isn’t a glamour at all.”

It makes Nik give a soft — almost fond — chuckle.

“‘Course there ain’t. Not in here at least. I may hate the lot of ‘em for their vulgar hoards of cash but even I’ll admit they deserve a place not to have to hide.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” And when he looks back out to the revelry it’s with a different eye.

After all he knows exactly how hard it is to go through life wearing a mask that can’t even come close to capturing the person underneath it.

“Doesn’t stop the majority of ‘em from being assholes, though.”

“When did Ryder start referring to himself in the third person?”

Cal slides in on Taylor’s opposite side, cocks a half-smirk at Ryder who only manages a grumbled and incoherent (probably for everyone’s benefit) response.

“Did you catch Donny’s scent by the bar?”

The wolf shakes his head no. Pinches the bridge of his nose with eyes squeezed shut. “For a second it was there — like he was right beside me — but just like that it was lost in the herbs they got in the drinks.”

“At least we know that means he’s here.”

“Or was, at least.”

Cal looks up when Taylor nudges his side. “Come on, don’t think like that now. We’re on the right path and, hey, knock on wood but no one’s kicking us out just yet.”

“They should with duds like those. Or didn’t you see the dress code on your way in?”

Nik tenses up beside him; mutters “shit” under his breath but doesn’t have to look around like his companions for the owner of the lilting laugh.

She emerges from around the drawn-back velvet curtain with dark blue gems for skin. No — it takes Taylor a second to realize the dress she wears just clings to her in all the right places before cascading down her legs like a waterfall.

She brushes her hair aside, lets it reveal her face as if parted from a violet veil. There’s nothing inherently inhuman about the woman at first glance — but if anyone could be the definition of deceiving looks its her.

From the looks of things she’s been taking them in with the same level of scrutiny. All but Ryder, whom she doesn’t even spare a passing glance. He leans back in the booth — suddenly far more at ease — and throws an arm around the back.

Her eyes linger on the worn state of Cal’s flannel collar and the wrinkles in Taylor’s tee. “Though I can’t tell if it’s just sad or actually a little genius on your part. One sore thumb is a nuisance but three, well… that’s a statement.”

Ryder’s brow twitches. “What can I say? I live to disappoint.”

“If only you were as good at your job as you were at getting dirt on everything you own.”

“Now that’s funny — since I seem to recall you singin’ my praises when you were butterin’ me up on the Raines job.”

“Compliments get pretty girls like me everything and everywhere, Nik. Or have you forgotten that you did come help me?”

“Problem with you Kathy,” Ryder starts up; looks like he’s ready to tell their new friend all the problems he has with her there and then, “is you always say you’ll split the fare after the job’s done but you’re too busy chasin’ your next lead to actually do it.”

‘Kathy’ rolls her eyes and turns to leave — no, not leave — to flag down a server carrying a full tray of champagne flutes filled with fuzzy pink liquid. “You can just leave that here, thanks.” She croons and waves the girl off like it never happened.

“I’ll admit I got… caught up in a few things once we split. But I give you my word the money will be in your account by tomorrow.”

The look Nik gives her is dangerously shy of ‘why wait, let’s go now’ but he doesn’t. Taylor tries to be an optimist and pretends it’s for Cal’s sake — for his little brother’s sake.

“You’re lucky I’m already on a job,” growls the hunter instead, “or I’d be pushin’ it.”

“And you’d end up waiting regardless. You’re not the only one working here.”

“I don’t even wanna ask what job you’re on in that getup.”

“It’s called blending in.”

The likelihood of their bickering lasting until the end of time, if left to their own devices, is a little too high. They have things to do — a little brother to find. And Cal’s getting antsy in his seat.

“Ryder,” Taylor tries — and fails — to be subtle; what with the wide eyes and the way he keeps jerking his head towards the depths of the lobby, “we gotta. get. going.”

Nik actually waves him off. “Yeah yeah, just a minute.” Then to Kathy; “I can’t figure why it’s takin’ you so long when you’re the one who ended up with the better end of the bargain.”

She scoffs — stops grabbing for one of the drinks on the tray and fixes him with a glare that’s gonna start Trouble with a capital ‘T.’

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Ryder puffs out his chest, huffs through his nostrils. “Just don’t think you gettin’ Raines to do you a favor measures up when I did most of the work.”

“That’s debatable, from what Kathy’s told me.”

The voice from behind them wouldn’t be nearly as startling if it didn’t come from the woman’s open mouth in a deep baritone.

Their new guest is a tall man in sleek black finery. The silk of his shirt ripples like liquid and when he walks around them to Katherine’s side there’s the tinkle of metal on the tile floor; the silver tips of his shoes make him decorated — quite literally — head to toe.

He crooks his elbow and Katherine slides herself onto his arm like she’s just another piece to his fancy ensemble. “Took you long enough…” She mutters aside.

Instead of apologizing, though, the stranger focuses on the ragtag trio in the booth. “Of course we all know there’s three sides to every argument: his, hers,” he looks away from the bristling Nighthunters to stare at Taylor; to penetrate his soul with bright red eyes, “and the truth.”

Definitely not mortal.

Everything about the way Ryder addresses the man screams recognition. Important, but not important enough to warrant an introduction.

“Cadence,” he almost sneers the name, “didn’t figure Persephone to be your kind of scene.” I thought you were better than that; that’s what hangs unsaid in the air packed to the brim with tension.

Taylor’s eyes travel down to the taller man’s hand where, indeed, the same kind of heavy golden ring rests on his finger. Cadence notices and slyly tucks his hand into his trouser pockets; as if he’s embarrassed by it. When they lock eyes again the red is gone; replaced by dark honey.

But if Nik’s remark is a trap, he doesn’t fall into it. Instead does the opposite of his companion and regards Taylor and Cal like they’re actually a part of the conversation.

“I’ll assume you didn’t come in through the front door; kudos to whatever you did that worked.”

“It was surprisingly easy.” Taylor replies.

“And dangerous — but some things are worth the danger.” The man looks down his nose — at his height it’s impossible to do anything else — and squeezes Kathy’s arm. “We should get going. We need to catch Isadora before the show starts.”

She nods curtly; all business now. Throws a look back to her—friend? rival?—Ryder.

“Well it’s been fun, but —”

“‘Isadora’ as in Izzy-Isadora? Carlo’s daughter?”

Kathy’s not the only one taken by surprise at Cal’s interruption but she does seem to notice him for the first time.

“Maybe.”

“Ain’t no other Isadora we’d know by name.” Nik cuts in.

“What’s it to you?”

“Her dad just died — what’s she doin’ here?”

Cal raises a good point. Leaves the collective group in an awkward silence. The gears turning in Kathy’s head are near visible — like the steam coming out of her ears.

“She’s here to pay off her father’s debt to the Smoke.” Cadence finally answers. Judging by the way Kathy looks at him, too, he’s not lying. “What?” He asks her in defense of her silent accusation. “What did I say?”

Only Nik acts like he’s just been shot. “Wait — Smoke’s here tonight?”

“No — Katherine stop — but her collector is. He’s leading the matches in the underground.”

“What matches?”

“The cage fights.”

Cal makes a desperate, choking noise beside him and Taylor immediately tries to see what he can do — he doesn’t have to know much about this new world to understand what they’re talking about. ‘Cage fights’ is a pretty universal term with only so many interpretations.

“That’s where they have Donny.”

Taylor doesn’t have to question him. Not with how sure, how terrified he sounds. And it makes sense — mobsters are mobsters.

“Well… we’ll just be going now…” Katherine starts tugging her partner away — actually has to tug since he seems suddenly taken by Cal’s reaction. “Cade — come on.”

Nik leans over Taylor — is personal space a concept to anyone around here? — to look Cal dead in the eyes.

“You sure?”

“Has to be.” Cal chokes out.

“Would you like to join us?”

Katherine stops tugging only to pick her jaw up off the ground. Even Taylor’s surprised by the man’s abrupt invitation. Checks his face again for any sign of cruel teasing but there’s nothing in those golden eyes.

Nothing but curiosity. Not even sincerity. He wants to see what will happen.

“Bad idea, Cadence.” Katherine warns.

“Nope!” Taylor’s shoved by Ryder — accidentally shoves the still sheet-white Cal as a result — out of the booth in haste. “Can’t take it back now.”

The Nighthunter adjusts his shirt and coat sleeves like he’s wearing something bought on the same rack as every other bespoke suit and outfit there. When he speaks he’s looking straight at Katherine — now fuming — and has to be getting his kicks judging by the look on her face.

“We’d love to.”

All it takes is a gesture for their new guides to turn and start walking. Too far ahead and too fast for Taylor to catch any of the whispers Katherine hisses under her breath. But he’s more focused on Cal.

“We’re gonna find him — don’t worry.”

Cal swallows audibly.

“Cage fights, Taylor. They’ve got him in cage fights.”

“And we’re gonna get him out before anything happens.”

Nik passes them; offers him grim two cents.

“If it ain’t happened already.”

#nightbound #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #nik ryder x mc #cal lowell #nik ryder #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

2 notes · View notes

whatthewalt · 5 years ago

Text

Newsies (1992)

Young Bruce Wayne Jack Kelly is a charming paper boy singing and dancing his way through late 19th century New York in Newsies. He leads an army of underage workers who go on strike when the newspaper mongols cut wages, which is an interesting plot for a movie coming from a studio that was notorious for its low wages in the 1990s. Will pubescent boys performing an overly choreographed dance number with the aid of Vinnie from Doogie Howser, MD be able to solve the problems of the working class?

Nostalgia Alert

Here’s the thing - until recent years, I had no idea this movie existed. Which is curious. Because it was released at a time where I was hyper aware of movie releases. My obsession with movies was well in play by the time 1992 rolled around. Every week I would pour over the entertainment section of the newspaper, reading reviews, checking screening times. Even more so when it came to the video store (Hey Kids! Remember video stores?) - I knew the release date of every movie hitting the new release section. Even the movies that went straight to VHS. Especially the movies that went straight to VHS. But I never heard of Newsies. I asked on Facebook and none of my friends remembered this movie ever coming out. It’s my suspicion that this movie has never been released in Australia… until Disney+. If you have any information to help me in working this out, I’d love to hear from you.

So no, never seen Newsies before. I had heard it in passing over the years, usually as a pop culture aside from a snarky character in a comic book. Which these days is at least 45% of characters in comic books. So let’s see what I’ve been missing out on.

Showtime!

Newsies is based on real life events that happened in New York in 1899. I’m assuming with a lot less singing and dancing. Seriously, there are so many teenage boys dancing in this movie that if you were a young lad who could dance and lived near Hollywood in 1992 and you didn’t get cast in this movie, then you’d seriously have to reconsider your life goals. I would not have doubted you for a single moment if you told me that they had to pause rehearsals half way through so they could hire another fifty dancers to fill in every available gap of the sound stage. Fair warning - the singing and dancing aren’t particularly great. The dancing always feels a little over done. I feel like it’s trying to be a throwback to an earlier era of movies, but it just doesn’t cut in 1992. If this had been a high school theatre production, I would have kept my mouth shut to be polite, but inside my head being really critical for trying too hard. And the singing? Nothing to write home about. None of the songs are memorable. No show stopping numbers here.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the plot. I think this movie had one. Hovering around somewhere while a pre-Batman Christian Bale rides a horse through New York for some reason. Where was I again? That’s right, the plot. Poor teenagers barely survive in New York city by selling newspapers (the Newsies of the title). Newspaper owners are not making a bajillion dollars, so instead of improving the quality of the papers or increasing the cover price, they charge the Newsies more for their papers, effectively giving them a massive pay cut. The working class heroes won’t be put down by the man any longer and go on strike. The movie goes on for about another 2 hours before something actually happens. Every underpaid, underage worker in New York gathers together for a massive protest strike. At this point I’m starting to get my hopes up. What will happen next? Will we get a Les Miserables style barricade with medleys, gunshots and drama? Of course not. They fill the sound stage with extras and that’s it. The. Movie. Just. Ends.

Sigh.

Was It Any Good?

It’s not a bad movie. But it’s not a great one either. Clocking in at 2 hours, it’s at least 30 minutes too long. At least. This movie needed more time before going into production, either to improve the quality of the music and throw in at least one song that everyone will be singing as they exit the cinema, or to tighten up the plot and make that final act strike actually mean something. Seriously, this strike would have been a big deal. If it wasn’t a big deal, why would someone be making a movie about it nearly 100 years later? But at no stage do you feel like any of the main characters are in danger. Or that they have anything to lose. Disney animation was going through a Renaissance during the early 90s. Shame the same thing wasn’t happening with this live action production.

I hear the stage production of Newsies is better. I might give it a shot. Can’t see how it could be much worse.

#Disney #Disney+#Disney Plus #Movie Review #Newsies #Christian Bale #Musicals

6 notes · View notes

irronstarkss · 7 years ago

Text

upside down.

pairing | peter parker x reader

word count | 2212

warnings | none

NOTE: *Set pre Infinity War cause ya girl (mel) STILL hasn’t seen it so no spoilers please and thank you very much*. Hi I guess I’m back again. I need to stop floating back and forth between blog and life but ugh I’ve been busy anywho forgive the messiness of the post there’s a lot of dialogue

avengers masterlist | request

____

You had become intrigued by the sensation that was sweeping YouTube. ‘Spider-Man’, as he called himself, often took care of the minor crime that happened around his city, helping out the citizens in any way that he could. The buzz after what had happened during homecoming with Vulture was still pretty new, and everyone at Midtown was claiming that they were saved by or had spoken to the bug.

Yet, you hadn’t even seen Spider-Man, let alone talked to him. Although, maybe that was a good thing. You weren’t one known for getting into trouble, and besides, he was a superhero- poking his head where trouble thrived. While there were many upsides to having someone protecting Queens, there was one major downside- Peter seemed to be roped into his life more than anyone. Always reporting on him, always claiming that he knew him personally, using Spidey’s status to get Flash to leave him alone.

You missed your best friend. Not to mention your massive crush on the boy. Without Peter around to distract you from the stares and teasing glances from your classmates, you felt alone. Even Ned seemed to always be busy. You had two theories: 1. That Peter was Spider-Man or 2. They were avoiding you for the sake of avoiding you. At this point, you thought either could be probable, but you didn’t have evidence for either. You knew that if he were Spider-Man, then he’d tell you when or if he were ready to trust you with that information. But… surely Ned knew didn’t, he?

One day after school, you made your way to Peter’s apartment to do homework like you always did, even if no one was going to be home. You didn’t see Peter on the train there, so you assumed he had something going on as usual. You opened the door and May smiled at you, chatting away at something you were only half paying attention to. You opened up messenger on your phone, about to text Peter, but decided against it. You guessed that he wouldn’t reply until the early morning and you weren’t in the mood to hear his excuses as to why he wouldn’t answer you.

You moped in his room, flopping on his bed and beginning your homework, pushing the worry that he might not be okay out of your mind, and not stopping until it was dark out. You sighed and packed your things, upset that it was almost eleven and he still wasn’t home. You said goodbye to May and began walking home. Slipping your earbuds in, you stuffed your hands in your pockets and hoped that music would drown out your insecurities.

You didn’t hear or see the man hiding in the shadows behind you as you walked through an alley. He pushed you against a building and held a knife to your throat, about to start rifling through your stuff. A scream bubbles through your throat and faster than you could think, a masked hero came to your rescue. You yelped as you watched the scene unfold and the robber ran, webs clinging to his back tightly.

“And stay away!” Spider-Man called. You were too stunned to move, gripping your chest to steady your breathing. He seemed to notice your presence once more and walked up to you slowly. “Are you alright miss?”

You nodded quickly. “Y-yeah. Thanks.”

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be walking home this late.”

“I always walk home from my friend’s place, but I’ve been waiting for him to get home, and he never does until late. Hence, the giving up waiting for him and walking in a dark alley at eleven at night.”

“W-well, I’m sure he feels bad about leaving you alone at his apartment. And I’m sure he misses hanging out with you, but he’s probably busy.”

“He always seems to be busy nowadays… thanks again Spider-Man. Maybe I’ll see you around someday.”

“D-do you want me to take you home? Like I said, it isn’t safe to be walking this late.”

“Why not? It’s probably faster.”

You walked over to him and thanked the heavens silently that the darkness was hiding your blush. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he swung around neighborhoods and between buildings. The world seemed different from this high up. He landed you carefully in front of your apartment building and you gave him a pointed look.

“How do you know where I live?” You asked carefully. He sputtered for a few moments before coming up with an obviously fake excuse.

“Just a hunch. Most houses are in this complex coming from the way you were walking.”

You were too tired to question it, and thanked him once again, waving and turning your back as you headed inside. Your parents lectured you about time and curfew, but you didn’t care enough to pay attention. You kept thinking back to the Spidey, and how his voice seemed awfully familiar.

The next morning, you were walking through the halls of Midtown, when you heard someone calling your name.

“Y/N! Hey Y/N wait up!!” You turned around, and there was Peter Parker himself, running to catch up with you. “Hey! It’s been a while.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be angry or annoyed with him for ignoring you. He seemed genuinely happy to see you now. You gave a small smile and continued walking with him by your side. “Hey, Pete.”

“How are you? I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve talked.”

“Well, it kind of has. You’ve been so busy it feels like you’ve forgotten I’m your friend.”

“Y-yeah. About that… I’m really sorry. There’s just been a lot happening and I haven’t had time to say anything to you. But I’m here now! So tell me, anything new happen?”

“I ran into Spider-Man last night. Although, he’s more of a Spider-Boy if you ask me. I was walking home from your place last night and he gave me a lift home.”

“I-I’d say he’s definitely manly. You just gotta give him the chance.”

“Sure Peter. Whatever you say.”

The two of you talked all the way to class, and throughout the rest of the day. He even came back to his apartment with you after school. Things were finally beginning to feel normal again until the evening hit. You were reading out on your fire escape when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You glanced up and yelped, almost dropping your book as you saw Spider-Man staring back at you, perched on the railing in front of you.

“Geeze. Stalking me now, are you?” You joked. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“No, no, nothing like that. I thought we could talk. If that’s alright with you. Also just wanted to make sure you got home safe again today.”

“Oh, well, thank you. Here I am. Safe and sound. So, no bad guys to take down today?”

“Surprisingly. It’s a slow day.”

“Well then, Spider-Man, tell me about yourself. Are you really a man or are you just parading as one?”

“How come no one thinks I’m a man?”

“Because you sound like a pubescent teenage boy. A voice modulator might do the trick.”

“So I’ve been told…”

You giggled and Peter was glad that you couldn’t see his blush beneath his mask. He had begun to develop a crush on you, another reason he had been avoiding you besides superhero obligations. He couldn’t help but want to hold your hand in school or kiss you at your locker, but he couldn’t find the right words to say to you. Luckily, that’s what Spidey was for.

You didn’t know his secret identity- even though he really wanted to tell you- which meant he could talk and attempt to flirt with you without you knowing it was him. Which brings us back to the present. Here he was, sitting on the railing of your fire escape, talking to you with the confidence he wish he had with the mask off.

“Alright, I’ve gotta ask. What made you become Spider-Man to begin with?”

“It’s a long story… but I’m happy that I get to help those around me. Anything that I can do to help keep Queens a little safer.”

“That’s really brave of you Spidey.”

The two of you talked through the evening, laughing as if you were old friends. Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you, and you talked late into the night. You didn’t realize how late it had become until you yawned mid-sentence.

“You should head home Spider-Man,” you began, “I gotta get to sleep, and Peter’s gonna kill me if he finds out I didn’t sleep again.”

“Peter?” He tried to sound as if he didn’t know who she was talking about.

“Peter Parker. Some say he knows you? Either way, he’s my best friend and the last thing I need is to be falling asleep during class again.” You giggled again thinking about him. He made you happier than anyone had in a long time. You gathered your thoughts and turned back to the web-slinger. “Will I see you again?”

“Definitely. Oh- and this Peter guy, he seems pretty great.”

“He is. He really, really is.”

You met up with Spider-Man every evening on your fire escape from that day on. Sure, Peter could have just hung out with you like a normal person, or he could entertain this a little longer. He settled on the latter but began to worry when you weren’t at your place one night. He swung around until he found you walking through the same alley he met you in as Spidey. You seemed to be walking toward his apartment this time. He swung down and latched onto a roof, lowering himself upside down to get your attention. You smiled when you saw him.

“How’s it going?”

“Good good… I was looking for you but you weren’t at your place.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry I’m headed to Peter’s- movie night Fridays. An old tradition.”

‘Of course, I can’t believe I forgot.’ Peter mentally kicked himself. He was about to say something when he heard collective screams and he knew he was needed elsewhere.

“Looks like the city needs their Spider-Man.”

“Y-yeah,” he thought for a moment before speaking again. “Kiss for good luck?” He was scared that you’d laugh and run off but instead, you walked closer to him, lowering his mask just above his nose. Peter couldn’t believe this was actually happening. You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, the both of you a giggling mess considering kissing upside down was very awkward. You weren’t really able to kiss him properly, but you both were smiling during it all the same. You stepped away from him, smiling and blushing brightly. He smiled just as widely and pulled his mask down, turning himself upright and swinging away to save his city.

You continued your walk to Peter’s apartment reeling. You had just kissed Spider-Man. Why though? Why would you kiss someone who was basically a stranger? But he didn’t feel like a stranger. When the two of you talked conversation was easy, you were able to bounce back and forth between topics quickly and happily. Kissing him didn’t feel wrong- in fact, it felt like the exact opposite of wrong. But it’s not like you could date a superhero and not know who he was beneath the mask.

Sighing quietly, you stepped inside his apartment, calling a hello to May and wondering where on earth Peter was. It was about time you told him about your little “meetings” with Spider-Man. As you stepped into his room, you couldn’t believe the sight you saw.

There Peter was, crawling on the ceiling. Your jaw dropped, you couldn’t believe the small hunch you had was right. Not to mention, everything else seemed to make sense now: the easiness of talking to him, how he knew where to find you, the kiss… holy mother of- you kissed Peter Parker!!

“P-Pete?” He fell from the ceiling the second he heard your voice. He tugged his mask off and closed the door quickly.

“Y-Y/N!! Hi! Okay, so I know this looks bad but-” You hugged him tightly, stopping the words that were tumbling out of his mouth.

“I can’t believe it’s you…” you whispered. Once the initial shock wore off, he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long,” he mumbled against your temple. You smiled but not before pulling away and smacking his chest.

“I can’t believe you!! This whole time I thought you were lying or avoiding me! You- you got me to kiss you!!! I can’t-”

He cut you off with another kiss, right side up this time. “It wasn’t bad though, was it?” He asked cheekily. You were dazed, still a little upset, but overall still extremely excited.

“So you’re telling me that my boyfriend is Spider-Man?”

“If you’ll have him.”

“I don’t know, I mean, he’s pretty weird. He kissed me upside down.”

“Says the girl who let him.”

You giggled and slipped your arms around his shoulders, placing one final kiss on his lips.

“Touché.”

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #marvel x reader #marvel mcu imagine #mel #mel's writings #spider-man: homecoming #*m #*marvel

78 notes · View notes

seventeen-central · 8 years ago

Text

Catch Me If I Fall - Dino Angst/Fluff (Gang!AU)

Request: Okay so I got this idea but I'm not very good at writing! Can you do like a gang AU? With maybe either Jun or Dino? (Whoever you would think would be more protective) And just have a rival gang someone try to take the reader or hurt her and they will just be hella protective and make it angsty? (Its okay if you don't do this kind of thing)

Word Count: 2898

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Member/ Group: Lee Chan (Dino) of SEVENTEEN

Warnings: Mentions of rape, violence, and death

A/N: Part 2? Tell me if you guys want it. EDIT: You guys asked, I answered. Part two is on my masterlist for all of you that sent me messages requesting it!

Curls of smoke rose into the air and disappeared into the atmosphere. Fourteen chairs were lined against the wall and wrappers littered the entirety of the room. Each chair was occupied by a warm body, except for two. A man with a fierce expression let out a breathy sigh before tossing his cigarette onto the dirty, cracked floor.

“Where is he? He said he would be here an hour ago, that fucking liar...”

“Coups! Calm your tits, bro. He’s bringing the lady today, so he probably got caught in traffic from wherever she lives. Just lay off his case a bit.”

When anybody decided to join the ruthless gang that simply went by ‘SEVENTEEN’, their name became a secret. They would choose a nickname to go by in case the cops ever caught up with them, though a few brave souls just went by their real ones. Each member never pried for the other’s real names, because the unspoken rule was always that ‘if what we’re doing is a secret, our identities should be too.’

Outside the only entrance to the room, the boys heard multiple pair of footsteps echoing. They all got ready to run incase it was a police officer, but their worries were resolved when they heard the familiar pattern of knocks on the door. Woozi, the most aggressive member among them, stepped forward and picked up his phone to check the camera they had planted outside the door. Just as he thought, it was the hooded figure they had come to know as ‘Dino’ and a female.

Woozi hurriedly opened the door and pulled the couple inside and went to go sit back down.

“Hyung, I brought food.” Dino pulled a bag from behind his back and laid each steaming box of food on the table in the center of the room. As the other twelve boys ravenously began to devour each morsel of food, Dino laid back in his chair with you sat in his lap. He was stroking your hair as you both looked at each other.

“You guys gonna eat? Because I’m telling you now, the foods gonna be gone in the next 5 minutes.” Dino shook his head and motioned for you to stand up so you could formally introduce yourself.

“You guys can call me (Nickname). I hope to be helpful to all of you, and I hope you accept me and Dino’s relationship.” Your fidgeting hand was brought to a stop by the solid build of Dino’s, and he wrapped his arm around your waist. He nuzzled his chin into your shoulder and a few of the boys let out exaggerated groans.

“Well, (Nickname), my name is Jeonghan. S. Coups is the leader around here, so if you have any questions. I am not even going to bother introducing the rest of my annoying kids the boys, you’ll get to know them eventually.” He flicked a stray hair over his shoulder and walked away to go sleep on the couch in the corner of the room.

The rest of the boys introduced themselves one by one, then left you and your boyfriend to your own devices. Dino sat you on a chair and began to play with your hair as you both whispered sweet nothings to each other.

Dino, or Chan as you knew him, was anything but a tough boy. His image may have began to finally show signs of his allegiance to the night-life and criminal underground, but you still thought of him as the awkward pre-pubescent teenage boy that had saved you from falling down a staircase on your high school campus.

“Jagi, what do you think of the boys? I’ve been so nervous about you all meeting.”

“Channie, don’t worry. I’m pretty sure they don’t dislike me and won’t lay a finger on me unless I hurt their precious maknae.” He laughed and pecked your cheek before a loud ‘ding!’ broke through the air. You pulled away from him and pressed the home button on your phone, and realized you had a text from your brother asking where on Earth you had disappeared to. You shot him a quick reply and said you were apartment hunting (which you and Dino had been doing before you had gotten launched into his now lavish lifestyle) and told him not to expect you home for tonight.

“Is (B/N) upset that we were planning on moving in together? I mean, now it’s a bit late considering that S. Coups will most likely want us to move into the HQ so we aren’t in much danger...” Rolling your eyes, you pecked him on the lips before shaking your head.

“He actually really likes you, and he told me a few days ago that he wouldn’t mind you as a brother in law in a few years.”

For the past 6 months, you had been living at the headquarters with the rest of SEVENTEEN. They had all basically accepted you as ‘one of the guys’, and continually loved to poke fun at you and Dino when they saw you together. More specifically, they liked to highlight anything they believed was so mature that you ‘young kids’ had been up to. (Keep in mind, Dino had just turned 23 and you were 21.) Sometimes, it would lead to small fights between all the boys, but everybody would forgive and forget by the next day.

The elder 12 boys had left to infiltrate another groups dealings with a certain ring of illegal jewelry dealers, and they had left you and Dino completely and utterly alone.

“Jagiya~ Can we cuddle?~” Chan tried his best to do some sort of aegyo, and was not shocked in the least when the cushion you had been laying on suddenly whipped him across the face.

“As long as you never do whatever that was again, sure.” You patted the empty spot on your small twin sized bed and he practically dived into the sea of billowy sheets. No words were needed, and you both quickly fell asleep in the warm embrace of each others arms.

For a few hours, the sleep that hung n the air went completely undisturbed. That was, until Vernon decided that they all should go back and try to be as loud walking in as possible.

“Aish! You bastards are the only thing standing between me and my precious beauty sleep!” Your groans broke through the air as you untangled your legs from your still asleep boyfriend’s.

“Don’t worry, (Nickname). You need a lot more than beauty sleep to look like a normal human being.” That remark brought everybody to a pause, and Seungkwan realized his mistake in saying so when he felt the burn of a throw pillow being struck against his face.

“I’m going to go to the convenience store. Anybody want anything?” You slipped on your shoes nonchalantly.

“Banana milk please!” The look of complete disgust that crossed your face made everybody in the room laugh, as you hated banana milk as much as Seungkwan hated bad selfie lighting. Nonetheless, you nodded and stepped out the door, footsteps ringing through the whole corridor.

On your way back from the convenience store, you couldn’t help but notice how eerily quiet it was. The alleyway that you needed to walk through to reach the entrance to the HQ was so silent that the only sounds were your footsteps and the dripping of water off the rusty pipes.

“M’am? Please, help me with something.” A deep voice shook the Earth from behind you, and scared you to the point of you dropping your freshly bought goodies on the ground. When you mustered up the courage to turn around, a man with a intimidating expression stood before you.

“Uh, what do you need, exactly?”

“For you to shut up and let it happen. Thanks for the help, sweetheart.” You shuffled backwards just to feel yourself collide into a solid frame behind you. Before you even had a chance to scream, they slipped a small cloth over your mouth that smelled distinctly of a certain chemical. As you drifted off, the man grabbed your arm and began to launch you forwards to what could only be their large, black van.

“Wasn’t (Nickname) supposed to be back a while ago?” S. Coup’s finally got off his chair and began to look on the security cameras at Dino’s question.

“Well, how long does it usually take to go grab some stuff and come back?” He snapped, carefully scrolling through each camera. “How about you and Vernon go to look for her? Something doesn’t feel right, and I need to go hack into the security cameras at the Seven-Eleven she went to.” Vernon nodded and pulled Dino to his feet before speed-walking forward.

They were welcomed to a completely empty alleyway, which they carefully stepped through. The occasional trashcan would clatter and cause them to jump, but nothing made them more scared than what they discovered just around the corner.

“Hey, isn’t that the stuff that (Nickname) was supposed to be bringing home to us?” The now trampled plastic bag was ripped wide open, and a puddle of milk had spread across the majority of the pavement.

“Looks like it... Don’t worry too much Dino, she may have just gotten scared by something and run off.” Vernon patted him on the back as they stepped over the puddle. A sudden ringing erupted from Vernon’s phone, and the boys both grabbed their chests with shock before chuckling and picking up the phone.

“Come back. Now. We know where she is.” S. Coups speech was extremely short, and he simply hung up the phone and left the two boys extremely confused.

“So, we know for sure that the Bangtan Boys have her?” Dino wrung his hands nervously as they waited for any attempt of contact from the well known gang.

“For sure. If you look here, you can see that the leader, Rap Monster , was following her all the way out of the store. And if you look here, you can see Jin driving their van into our territory earlier today.” All the boys nodded. Suddenly, a video call message popped onto the screen with the distinct contact name of ‘BTS. Before anybody could stop him, Dino thrust himself forward past the group of boys and clicked on the green button.

After the webcam loaded, all that was visible to the boys was a dark room with a chair in the center. Garbage and grime covered the floor, and everything was completely silent.

“Where is she?...” Jeonghan muttered, looking over to check on Dino.

“Hello, SEVENTEEN. How nice to speak to you boys again? Wasn’t the last time when we found you on our turf, stealing our profits?”

“Shut up, Suga. Where’s the girl?” The male, now identified as ‘Suga’, chuckled and switched on the lights.

“She’s right here. Don’t worry Rap Monster will be here in a second to clear everything up for you.” The door on the right side of the camera slammed, and only confirmed what they had been told.

“Ah, how nice to see everybody together once again! I know what you’re talking to us for, and I’m sorry to say the girl is ours for now. Consider it payment for the trouble you caused us.”

“HOW IS THIS PAYMENT? You are sick, fucking sick.” Rap Monster simply laughed at the worried Dino’s words before stepping towards the chair. Instead of sitting like they thought he would, he snapped his fingers and swiped his hand over the seat to wipe off the accumulated dust and dirt. Two boys, one with narrowed eyes and another that seemed to be a bit too happy in the situation, stepped into the room with your limp body hanging from their arms. They placed you in the chair before making their way over the wall where they would end up standing on for the next 5 minutes.

“it was so nice of you all to send this lady to us! I bet she's gonna love it here, and all the boys love her. She’s got a nice ass, too.” At that comment, it took both The8 and Jun to hold Dino back. “Aw, how cute! Lover-boy is upset that we have his pretty little girlfriend! Don’t worry, I won’t let the boys be too rough with her, unless she’s into that.”

S. Coups had a look in his eyes that was vengeful. All the boys were a bit scared, as both the eldest and the maknae had never looked this scary before.

“What do we need to do to get her back?” Dino clenched his teeth and Rap Monster seemed to think for a second.

“$100,000 in cash. That should be about the price of the cargo you all ruined. Anyway, I must go so I can get a bit more familiar with our new Lady here. Get the cash by tonight, and I’ll consider giving her back untouched.” The call blanked out, and S. Coups swiveled his chair to look at the rest of the boys.

“Jeonghan, take Mingyu and Wonwoo to get the money. Dino, you and me are gonna pack some guns in the van incase the deal goes south. The rest of you, get as much info on BTS as possible. We leave in 3 hours.”

The boys all piled into the back of the van, some holding guns, others cradling laptops with all the information pulled up. Dino was in the passengers seat when his phone went off. He looked up at the other boys, who all nodded and told him to open it and put it on speaker.

As the video played, the screen was just a camera facing a closed door. From within the door, audible gasps and male groans could be heard before a woman started screaming and movement could be heard. Fire erupted in Dino’s eyes, and the other members all became deathly serious. “I’m not gonna let that bastard live, so lets hope he rots in hell for what he’s done.”

You groaned as the boy you had come to know as V groped at your body.

“The boss said I get first chance with you, so how do you like it?” He struggled to hold down your arms as he clicked the chains onto your arms that officially marked you as a captive.

“I would like to do nothing, if thats good with you...” You spat at him, venom seeping through each word.

“That’s not how it works, Princess. If you aren’t gonna tell me, I’ll just do it how I like; raw and rough.”

For the next hour, your deafening screams echoed through the halls. By the time that V was done, you had put up the mental block that would get you through this experience. You felt trapped, but that didn’t matter anymore. Even as the cell door slammed shut and left you with no company, you couldn't help but curl up into a ball and just sit there blankly, hoping that a savior would arrive soon.

Dino stepped towards the entrance of BTS’s hideout. He cracked his fingers and lifted the briefcase that held the key to your freedom, and the boys joined him near the door one by one. A single know was all that was needed for the door to be opened, and the boys piled into the room one by one.

“Where’s my money?” Dino lifted the briefcase and shot a spiteful look towards Rap Monster.

“You get your money when I get my girlfriend back. Bring her here before you end up with a bullet in your skull.” Rap Monster lifted his hands in a defensive way before snapping his fingers, and the two young boys from earlier dragged you in. Blood was encrusted on your arms and thighs, and you had nothing but a pair of boxers and a tank top on. The one thing that chilled all the boys to the bone was the dead look in your eyes as you were dragged forward.

Dino threw the case forward, and Jin stepped past his husband hyung to inspect the items inside.

“It’s all here.” The boys nodded and pushed you forward, and Dino ran forward to hold you in his embrace. You gave no effort to hug him back but limply hung in his arms.

“Now leave, before I change my mind.” The entirety of SEVENTEEN walked out of the building with you in tow. Nobody said anything until they arrived back in the van.

When you sat on the cool, leather seats of the car the tears finally came.

“Dino, he... he did things to me! I’ve never wanted to die so bad before...” Dino patted your back and let you cry into his shirt.

“It’ll be okay, (Nickname). They’ll figure out why they shouldn’t have done that soon enough, believe me.” The van disappeared into the maze of roads and alleys, just like the potential of peace between the rival gangs.

#dino #lee chan #lee chan angst #dino angst #dino imagines #dino scenarios #lee chan imagines #lee chan scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #gang au #x reader #reader insert #requests are open

153 notes · View notes