joseph kavinsky
fancast: ash stymest- He was unmistakable: the sort of raven boy who was clearly an import from elsewhere. Everything about his facial structure — the long nose; the hollowed-out, heavy-lidded eyes; the dark arch of his eyebrows — was completely unlike the valley faces she’d grown up with. Like many of the other raven boys, he sported massive sunglasses, spiked hair, a small earring, a chain around his neck, and a white tank top.
- He was always moving. There was something erratic and vulgar about the full line of his lips, like he’d swallow her if he got close enough.
- Kavinsky himself stood near it, bottle in hand, shirtless, the floodlights erasing the ribs from his concave torso. [...] Pressing one hand to his concave chest, he fetched his white sunglasses from his back pocket with the other. He put them on, hiding his eyes. The lenses mirrored the furnace around them.
series: maggie stiefvater's the raven cycle
shipping: - m/m preferred, but i wouldn't mind finding my kitty kowalski
- 15-25 yo preferred, character will be aged up to 18 for 18+ partners
- no non-con, we can talk about everything else
warnings: spoilers, language, violence, misogyny. per the canon, the character generally also carries warnings for substance abuse, child abuse, and a variety of felonious behaviors (including b&e, kidnapping, unsolicited groping, assault) but i will warn beforehand |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perf
The night air is cool but welcoming with how hot and flushed he feels like he is, and he swears Kavinsky almost touches him, enough for him to feel how warm the other is despite looking like a statue, jaggedly cut and pristine.
Sure, Kavinsky is called a gutter rat by everyone else, but to Credence, walking just a few steps behind him like a shadow and murmuring apologies as he makes his way through the crowd that seems to swallow him up after Kavinsky parts it. Like a God. No--like a wizard. So full of magic, he's put a spell on all of them.
Credence finds himself smiling, his daydreams cut off only as he's jarred by the other's voice. Right. Right--door. He opens it and slides in, feeling unworthy of the leather beneath him. He's trying to take it all in. ]
Mr. Kavinsky, sir, this is absolutely thrilling. [ And, before he can stop his mouth: ] It's like when I dream about it but it's real.
[ They haven't even gone anywhere. That's the most exciting part. ]
tw suicidal ideation
little does he know. little does he know!
clunk. he shuts the door, and suddenly the noise of outside muffles out to near-nothing. strapping in, he puts key to the ignition, and the car starts with a deep-throated rumble that shivers through every bone in credence's body, fucks with the cadence of his heart. kavinsky pulls the car out of park, and rolls her gently through the other kids as they move aside to let him get to the starting line. a couple other cars are there already. in here, the melody of the music is loud.] 'Mr. Kavinsky,' [he says,] is my fucking dad.
[there's so much disdain in his voice. there has to be a story there. one that he isn't going to tell. they roll up to a stop beside the other two cars. there's a girl strutting up in front of the headlights, all exposed leg and tawny tummy.] Put your seatbelt on unless you wanna die, [kavinsky says.] No difference to me, sweetheart. Last good advice I ever give you.
no subject
He can feel it, though, and he can see why the other races so much. The car comes to life, and not just the music, but Credence feels like the whole world suddenly does, his ribcage rattling like his heart may just tumble out from the sheer noise alone.
His pulse is racing. It's the same feeling he gets when he looks at Kavinsky through the windows, the same nervous energy he gets when he's not sure what tomorrow will bring. It's thrilling. Thrilling, and terrifying, and once he clips that seatbelt on he doesn't realize he's trying not to smile. ]
I hope you win!
[ He has to shout it through the music, and he's not even sure he's been this loud his entire life. This is Kavinsky's world, though, isn't it? Boys and girls and sweetheart just thrown around casually like that. ]
no subject
the car smells densely of fresh leather, kavinsky's cologne. the space feels even closer with the reverberations roaring through it. through the windshield, credence can see a girl in a tiny skirt starting to walk up to the starting line, a pair of panties in one hand, a beer in the other. but kavinsky's looking at him. his pupils are as big as full moons, and there seems like an incipient movement in the hand he has over the gearshift, like he's this close to reaching across for the boy next to him. but he doesn't.
his hand, the veins braided over his bent knuckles, all of him is as still as a corpse when he remarks,] What'll you give me if I do?
no subject
[ He says it without meaning to, the words tumbling from his lips in a delightful tizzy. The engine is practically rocking him, soothing in a way that's almost dangerous, and Credence isn't sure how it's possible to be so exhilarated and terrified and soothed at the exact same time.
His Friend, the one beneath the surface, the one that whispers to him--it's gone.It's gone, replaced by adrenaline and fear and euphoria, and they haven't even properly started. He can't even wipe that smile off of his face, sitting on the edge of the seat in anticipation. ]