Author's Note: Hello and welcome to Captured Beauty! I decided to add a story to the TON fandom because they are pretty scarce and I'm always one to write for smaller fandoms and whatnot. All I ask is to respect one another in the comment section, be nice, sit back and giggle like a little school girl because this is gonna be a fun journey! Enjoy! <3
~coffinpuppy
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The year is 1993 and the world calls for an artistic eye in the booming streamline of photography. You've held onto your Kodak DCS 200 digital camera ever since you got it for Christmas last year.
Ever since you were little, you always had some sort of camera in your hands. You loved to take pictures, even if they were random. Your parents called you a film hog and chastised you incessantly on minding about the film usage. It was always the film. You couldn't help it though as you found everything snapshot worthy. The Midwest gifted you some of the most beautiful greenery and hot summer seasons. You'd chase bees, sneak up on butterflies and carefully step over ants just to see if the lens could capture them. Nothing was out of your reach. Not even for your eight year old little self.
It's inevitable that your childhood pictures came back to haunt you years down the line.
Every family get together, your close-knit relatives gathered around a table as your mother showcased a ginormous tacky photobook. All of it was filled with pictures of you and what you ended up catching. The photobook itself was lined with garish plaid stitching and golden cursive letters written in shimmery puffy paint.
Y/N L/N
The ink from the old laminated photos become unstuck as your mother flipped through the photobook agonizingly slow, leaving you to drown in utter embarrassment as laughter from your aunts, uncles and grandparents filled the room. Despite your overflowing awkwardness, you knew deep down in your heart that photography was what you wanted to pursue in.
You pulled through your school years well. After what seemed like a million years in college, inundated with extra curriculars, credits and hoping to god that you hadn't wasted your money on a useless degree, you did it.
You were officially a Fine Arts Photographer.
It was a momentous occasion and you were sure that your late father was proud of you. You missed him. You wished you took more photos of him.
It's February 1st and after three months of searching for an apartment, you found one and finally are living in it. It's nothing fancy. It's a cramped one bedroom, bathroom and a graciously gifted small corner kitchen that is connected to the small living area.
It smells a bit like water damage and the occasional thumps of your neighbors can be heard but you genuinely couldn't be happier.
You begin to slowly unpack your life into your apartment. It's a therapeutic process as you start to make your surroundings more homelike. Your decorations and belongings breath a new life into the air and suddenly, everything becomes a bit brighter.
It's dark out now in the city and it's quickly discovered upon arriving that it's not gifted the quiet the Midwest has. Living in a densely populated area, that was expected and it was going to take some time to adjust. Many things required sacrifice and you hoped soon enough that all this new information would grow to be second nature. It was scary thinking how far you were away from your close knit family. You suddenly missed their jovial laughter tangling together as they all flipped through your childhood photo album. Without the sound of that, at least, was deathly quiet. Right now, your heart panged as you finished setting up your apartment, putting the last spoon in the silverware drawer.
Some things were still in a few boxes which included pots, pans and glass bowls. Others were small knickknacks, bedding and small lamps. Since it grew to be in the later hours, you figured to gift the rest of the tenants some peace even though they were pretty free about making their own ruckus. In fear of making too much noise, hearing an unexpected knock on the door made you jump in place. Maybe it was the landlord.
Upon opening the door, you were immediately taken aback by an insanely tall statured man. By the suit he wore and the patch on his chest, he worked for the NYC Department of Parks and Recreation. He shifted a bit in place, some papers in hand.
''Hi, can I help you?'' You ask, a small polite smile curving your lips as you very much looked up at him. You noticed he had green eyes, was stoic and his gaze was intent. He must have really loved this job, whatever that he did anyways.
''I have this months trash pickup schedule for you. '' He says, a very distinct New York accent twirling his words. His voice is a deep rich baritone and he flashes you a small smile to show he was kind. He hands you the schedule which you take and briefly look over.
''Oh, thank you very much. Do these schedules usually come this late?'' You'd ask, feeling like you'd have to make some sort of schedule around getting them. He shakes his head and his thick brows flicked up as he may have been recalling some sort of story. You guessed for your sake and time on the clock, he had to condense it.
''No. The guy that I'm workin' with is a bit 'in his own world' so to speak. Guy thought we had to set these out at eight at night rather than eight in the morning.'' He'd explain and then momentarily flicked his wrist to check the time. You took that as a sign you were holding him up. You started to take a small step back into your apartment about to gift him your thanks until he speaks up again.
''Are you new to Brooklyn? You don't sound like you're from around here and then again, not many people do, so..''
''Yeah, I am. New, I mean-'' You nodded with a light smile. ''I just actually moved here from Minnesota and got settled in today. Now that I got this trash pick up thing, maybe I can start getting into some sort of routine.'' You snickered and earned a small smile from the worker.
''Well, I hope you like it here. It ain't all shiny bells and whistles but it's got character.''
If he meant a lot of the odd panhandlers and corner folk outside on the main streets as character, it sure does.
''Yeah.'' You laughed lightly. ''Character is definitely the word to use. Thank you, um--''
''Peter.'' He introduces and he takes his large hand out for you to shake. You accept the gesture, your small hand swallowed by his very gentle touch. ''What's your name, sweetheart?''
''Y/n.'' You blush and beam. ''It's nice to meet you, Peter. Thank you.''
''Of course. Have a good night now, Y/n.'' Peter takes a small step back with a polite smile, creating some distance to end your conversation. You wondered if you did that 'Midwestern goodbye' to him as you slinked into your apartment.
''You too, Peter.'' You wave before shutting the door with a small click. You could hear the thump of his work boots echo further and further away, cleaning up the mess his work partner made by the misread.
You'd put the schedule on the front of your fridge, held by a magnet and for a moment you really had to process all the different colors, dates...it almost looked chaotic. Regular trash, Tuesdays and Thursdays every other week. Monday and Wednesday for the first and last week of each month. Wednesdays were also recyclable days.
Just looking at the grids in front of you made you tired, so you opted to change and settle in front the night in front of the tv.
You'd turn on MTV, remembering how much you watched it back in Minnesota. You knew a good majority of the bands that played, gifting you a sense of familiarity. It quietly filled the void spaces in your thoughts and your apartment. The soft glow of your tv lulled you to sleep, Alice in Chains the last thing you heard to drown out the noise of the city.
---
The next morning, you awoke to blaring horns outside the street. Rubbing your eyes, you slowly got up and stretched your limbs to investigate. You shuffled across cold wooden flooring and peeked outside, peeling back your white blinds. From the looks of it, there was an altercation and a fight of whose horn was the loudest.
Yeah, that's definitely character.
You started your day as you'd normally would. You jump in the small shower, washing away the sweat and long travels you've had as of late. Today, your spirits were high and you were to head down to your new job. You officially started next week, however you thought it would be nice to get a better glimpse of the town now that it was daytime while on the way there.
You threw on a nice outfit that had combatted the cool days of February. Most of your wardrobe was still a mess, not having been organized to your liking so you grabbed whatever had been of reach. You slipped on a nice f/c turtleneck sweater, paired with a puffer coat. Around your waist was a thick black belt that held up your blue cuffed stonewashed jeans and to finish the look of the day, chunky skate shoes. You dressed like the it girl when in reality, most of your clothing finds were in thrift shops. There was no way you were gonna spend heaps of money that you didn't have on a fast trend, so you were okay with just wearing whatever you thought looked nice.
Maybe that was another place you could find today.
You wrapped a Baby-G watch around your wrist along with putting on some layered jewelry around your neck before digging through a few of your unpacked belongings to find your camera. Didn't hurt to take a few pictures of your new home, right?
After a good hour of preening up for the day, you finally set out into the streets of Brooklyn, New York. The streets were a bit more peaceful than what you initially woke up to. People walked along the sidewalks with their well behaved dogs and you could feel the sunshine through the slightly cloudy skies. The streets were lined up with parked cars, belonging to those who lived in the neighborhood.
You'd make it more into town, map in hand. Oh man, all these streets are oddly numbered. Then again, not every street was going to be named after some kind of tree or iron.
Your mission was to simply get to 64th street and somehow by one turn, you were on 68th. Every road you looked at were weird forks and dead ends.
Great Y/n.
You wanted to bury your face in embarrassment, now pretty much lost. You'd ask around but most people thought you were a tourist. They weren't very kind to you, to say the least.
''Jesus Christ- really..?'' You huffed and pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to remain composed.
''Hey, you look a little lost. Need any help?''
Your head lifted from your hand, searching for the guide who wished to assist you. You felt oddly relieved to see a semi-familiar face and smiled, grateful.
It was Peter and you could tell by his unmistakable height. He'd look both ways before crossing and as he made his way over to you, you eyed him a bit closer than the other day. He wore a soft green t-shirt with a matching military cap, leather jacket, dark blue jeans and a pair of regular work boots. You also noticed that his hair was tied back, seeing stray strands catch the wind. He must have loved the color green. His long strides made the crosswalk short as he made it over to you, a gentle smile curving his lips. You couldn't help but smile back, feeling his gaze set on you. He looked very attractive and once that thought hit you, you fiddled a bit with the map in your hands.
''Hey Peter and yeah, I could definitely use some help.'' You say, feeling like you could use any help that you could get. You show him the road you're trying to get to and he leans down ever so slightly.
''Hm. Let me see that.'' He says and you hand it over to him. His brows furrowed as he was quick to find the solution.
Peter rotates the map around and hands it over to you.
''Map was upside down.'' Peter laughs lightly as you blush a deep pink, feeling absolutely dumb.
''Oh. Well, guess it would help me a lot if I looked at it the right way, huh?'' You chuckle a bit at yourself, earning a small laugh from Peter beside you. He nods, snickering.
''Yeah, that would absolutely help. Looks like from the road you circled, it's on the other side of town and that's a bit aways. Want me to give you a lift?'' He offers and you immediately wave it off, not wanting to burden him.
''Oh, no no that's okay! You don't gotta do that or anything.''
''I know I don't have to, Y/n. I want to- err, would like to. It's up to you.'' He says, quickly correcting himself as to not sound so forward. There's a moment where he grows bashful and you weigh your options. You even look over your shoulder to see where you came from, then to Peter who looks at you awaiting your answer.
''Okay, I'll take you up on that offer then.''
You swore you saw his eyes light up from you accepting his offer.
''Sounds good. Wouldn't want you to walk all that way or potentially get even more lost.'' He'd say chuckling and motioning you to follow him. As you accompany him, you feel like he won't let you live that down for a while.
As Peter guided you, the two of you shared some nice conversation. Having tagged along with him, it made the new city to you less daunting. His company made the swarms of random pedestrians completely walk around the two of you rather than getting shoved and called mean names. You took an educated guess that it was because of Peter. His long strides are cut in half, walking alongside you and making sure you wouldn't get pulled away by the tide of city folk.
''Everything is so fast here.'' You commented, already feeling the speedy current of life slipping you by.
''It is. Wish I could say the same for the damn traffic. Takes about three to five business days to get four blocks down.'' He jested and that made you chuckle. He was pretty funny, whether he knew it or not. ''How are you liking it so far?'' He questions you, a small amused grin on his face. You looked a bit different than first leaving your apartment. The new city tore you to shreds. Although, it was to be expected on the first day.
''It's definitely got a lot of fuckin' character.'' You quipped, earning a small laugh from your guide.
After another solid ten minutes of bantering, you arrive at what looked like a small club. A carbon copy of every other old brick building, you hadn't noticed it until you slowed down, seeing the sign up above.
L'amour.
Peter notices you're no longer by his side and stops in his tracks going to his parked vehicle.
''Something catch your eye?'' He asks and you can feel his eyes on you and hear his boots scrape the concrete as he makes his way over to you. You turn over and he opts to look at the building instead, wanting to avoid his bashfulness best he could.
''Kind of. Is this place like a club or something?'' You ask curiously and he nods. You begin to take out your small camera and suddenly he feels dread fill his stomach. His shoulders tense and he clears his throat, ridding that uncomfortable feeling quick.
''Sort of. It's a music venue more than anything. A few buddies of mine get together and play a few gigs. You paparazzi or somethin'? Photographer?'' He starts to pry and from the way your expression lightens up just holding the small digital camera, he can't help but smile too. He doesn't feel so afraid that you're a crazy woman, trying to snatch photos of him.
''Yeah! Recently just became a Fine Arts Photographer. It's sorta the reason why I moved all the way out here.'' You explain and tear your gaze away from the camera to him. You'd never thought some garbageman would be part of a band.
''You play in a band?'' You ask, a bit surprised and he shrugs with a nod.
''Bass and vocals. You ever play anything?'' He asks, wanting the subject to be on you more than himself. He watches you take a few steps back, assuming to take a few pictures of the club. You're focused on the task at hand and Peter is slightly afraid you'll forget him in your little world. You pull him in with your light laugh.
''Me play an instrument? No. I'm not all that musically talented.'' You reply and begin taking a few photos.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Peter adjusts his green military cap, letting you snap whatever angle you need. He even watched in quiet admiration. It was nice to see someone passionate about their job. Who was he to say anything quippy at this very moment? He felt happy working for the city, helping people. It was always something he wanted to do. Peter wondered why you wanted to take a picture of this run down hole in the wall. Maybe it was just the pure excitement of living somewhere new? Then again, he was used to this place and although he dreaded the attention on him, it gave him extra cash.
''Alright, I'm done. Sorry about that.'' You apologize as you put your camera away. He waves off your apology dismissively as the two of you head to his car.
''Don't apologize. Actually, don't let me stop you. If you see something that catches your attention, take a couple photos.''
Peter's car was anything but normal. It looked to be a custom made 1985 Grand Prix Pontiac. A cautionary tale dressed in all black, adorned with thick yellow stripes on the sides and metal bumpers. You climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in, now taking the map out and looking more closely.
He gets into the driver's seat and starts up the engine. It roars and dulls down to a low rumble. From the corner of your eye, you can tell he's pretty proud of his car. Folding up the neighborhood map, you ask about it.
''So, did you make this car yourself? It looks pretty interesting.'' You say, not sure how to compliment someone's car. He snickers and nods, beginning to back out of the parking space. His face falls to more of a concentrated expression as he makes his way out onto the roads.
''I built it up from swamp tires. Thirty-threes in the back, thirty-ones in the front, stuff like that. Wouldn't want to bore you with all the logistics and parts.'' His smile is faint as he drives, continuing on.
''Whenever I do an oil change, I dump the oil all over the car and spray paint it flat black.''
''So that's the smell.'' You comment and his brows furrow.
''I swore I took my monthly shower today.''
You both laugh and you start to feel a bit more comfortable knowing he was here. Permanent or not, you knew just by the banter the two of you shared his presence would make a huge impact.
This was a better and warmer welcome to Brooklyn, New York.