#obviously i know it’s more nuanced than this but let’s all share a giggle please

[grimoireguardian]

river song saying « an archaeologist /is/just a thief! » in dr who was soooo real of her like yeah absolutely

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

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

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22

[kumkaniudaku]

Rock the Boat

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Sexual Content (18+)

Written By: @kumkaniudaku

ANYWHERE MASTER POST

Recommended Listening: Rock the Boat x Aaliyah

A second wake up didn’t result in another round, but it did provide needed rest for the busy wife and mother. Chadwick had crawled out of bed long before Tasha for a run along the island’s beach, leaving his lover to wake on her own time. For months on end, she was up at the first sign of daybreak, leading the charge to have everyone dressed and prepared for the day’s events before taking a second to compose herself. The need for relaxation was obviously present in the days leading up to the trip when she would trudge to bed and pass out in a heap at night. So for as long as she needed to sleep, he was willing to grant her that space.

By the time she sauntered out of the villa into the patio space, she was buzzing with renewed energy and a faint glow of sexual satisfaction.

“Well damn, if I’d have known you’d come out looking like that, I would’ve decided to have you for breakfast instead.”

Chadwick took in Tasha’s multicolor monokini and all it’s cutouts through her sheer cover-up as she made her way to his spot at the small table beside the pool. The front of her bathing suit presented her stomach to the world, still soft from carrying two children, but featuring more definition than she’d been accustomed to since Noah was born. In the back, the high cut design got a run for its money against her wide hips, becoming more of a thong than its original intention.

With his arms outstretched, Chadwick welcomed Tasha into his lap to pull her against his clothed chest and press kisses wherever bare skin greeted him. His lips against her shoulders sent a chill through her body that starkly contrasted the tropical heat around them.

“You heard what Micah said last night,” she giggled as she squirmed in his arms. “Don’t bring home any more babies.”

Chadwick chuckled at CoCo’s spot-on imitation of their oldest, “Where does she get this stuff from?”

“Probably my mama and aunties. They don’t make her go to sleep over there and she soaks in everything they say like a sponge.”

“Is that why she calls everybody honey now like she’s 65?”

“More than likely,” she laughed, recalling the time Micah calmly asked for more oatmeal in her bowl one morning before adding a southern ‘honey’ to the sentence for emphasis. At nearly seven years old, she’d only lived in Southern California, yet carried around the grace of a Southern Belle several years her senior.

“Anyway, what’s all this? I am starving!”

“This, my love, is the honeymoon special. That’s not what Niha called it, but I can’t remember so I renamed it.”

“Clever,” she laughed before sneaking a kiss to his cheek.

Peeling back the plate covers unleashed the perfect aromas of local delicacies and American fusions of traditional breakfast items that had Tasha’s mouth watering at first glance. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was while she was being treated to orgasm after orgasm. Now she was almost ravenous as she scrambled to find a fork and knife to dig in.

In the alone time, they’d been granted, Chadwick was able to take in the scope of his wife. It wasn’t that he didn’t know she was beautiful. That was obvious. It was the little nuances of her movements that kept him intrigued.

While he watched the apples of her cheeks rise in satisfaction as she enjoyed her meal, he contemplated sharing a piece of life-altering information that he had been sitting on.

“I talked to Angelique,” he casually introduced, causing his wife to slow down long enough to look at him over her shoulder. “She gave me some advice about our plan if you wanna hear it.”

Chadwick was met with silence before Tasha stood to transition from his lap to the seat across from him.

“Mmmkay. Go ahead.”

“Well, she said that it’s great that we want to do this and thinks we have a great chance of being approved.”

“But,” CoCo interjected. There had been nothing but good news followed by caveats from the moment they decided to embark on this journey. A ‘but’ was always expected at this point.

“But, we’ll need to seriously consider a few things.”

“We’ve been considering things for months. What else is there to consider?”

“Nothing major, baby. Just a few details like the size of the house, whether we want to do an open or closed situation, or if we should foster instead.”

“Let’s start with the size of the house.” The mood had clearly begun to sour as Tasha placed her utensils down in front of her to clasp her fingers and place them underneath her chin.

“She recommends shifting the kids around to make space for one more, but I recommend us moving altogether. Wait,” he interjected just as she opened her mouth to counter. “Hear me out. We can afford to move to somewhere down South. It’s cheaper, we’d be closer to our parents as they get up in age, and both of us are still able to work with no interruption to what we do now.”

“Okay, I can’t argue with you there. I still would rather adopt a small child though.”

“And we can do that. But, please, give fostering some thought. We could really help a kid. Not too old of course, but maybe around 8 or 9?”

“Aaron…”

“Think about it, baby. We don’t need to answer right now. Enjoy paradise and we’ll talk about it later. Deal?”

Finding it counterintuitive to further the touchy conversation while so much beauty and wonder surrounded them, CoCo used the napkin in her lap as her literal white flag and surrendered. There were still three days left to enjoy each other with no distractions and neither Chad or CoCo was willing to spoil it with problems from life back home.

“Alright, Pookie, you have complete control of my body and my time for the next three days. What we gettin’ into?”

“Complete control of your body and your time, huh?”

Their eyes met in equally provocative glances that still carried the embers of the flame ignited mere inches from their current positions.

Biting her lip, CoCo made a of show leaning across the table to address her husband. Her arms purposely pressed against her breasts to give Chadwick a full view of her cleavage spilling out of her bathing suit. Restraint kept his hands planted around his glass of orange juice, but his eyes were given permission to roam as they saw fit.

“Especially my body. Wherever…”

“Whenever,” he finished before letting his eyes travel to meet her dark brown orbs directly. “I’ll hold you to that. Until then, Niha will be back in a few to take us around the other islands. How you feel about snorkeling and jet skiing before lunch?”

“I feel like you just wanna see me wet and half naked all day.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I can get you wet and completely naked right now if I need to.” The confidence in his matter of fact statement and half smirk made CoCo’s face heat up as she turned her head to hide a smile. Chadwick took notice and let out a full belly laugh.

“Don’t hide that pretty smile from me, girl. You know I’m right.”

“Where is this new level of nasty coming from, Mr. Boseman? I like it.”

Leaning across the table, Chadwick pulled Tasha’s hands into his to graze his lips across her knuckles. “You want me to be honest? I’m living out all the things I wanted to do with and to you when we talked about this all those years ago. Believe me when I say we’ve only scratched the surface.”

In CoCo’s mind, it seemed impossible to go any further than they had already gone. They’d had more sex in 16 hours than they’d had in 16 days in their own private corner of the world. If it all had to end right then, their half a day in the Maldives would still be heralded as their best excursion to date. What more was there to do?

When Niha returned to lay out the full itinerary, CoCo was worried that they would need an extra hour or two in the day to enjoy everything.

Every step of the way, they became drawn to each other like magnets. As the snorkeling guide gave rules and tips at the top of their session, Chadwick kept a hand at the small of Tasha’s back to make the occasional rub across her behind as inconspicuous as possible. A request for more sunscreen became CoCo’s excuse to run her hands across Chadwick’s back and chest more times than necessary. A warning from Niha about the legality of public displays of affection kept them from going too far, creating tension that would be useful for their time back at the villa.

With her body secure in his hold against the back loveseat of their passenger boat, CoCo allowed her eyes to close and her mind to truly take in the scope of what was happening around her. Chadwick felt her shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh and tightened his grip around her.

“What you thinkin’,” he asked before placing a kiss on top of her head.

“I’m thinking that I am the luckiest girl in the world right now. You have made every one of my dreams come true.”

“You deserve it, baby.” In their first public show of affection that day, their lips came together in rapid sweet kisses and carefree giggles.

“So, you know,” CoCo started as she pulled away to lean against Chadwick. “I gotta step up my game for you this year. If you pull out any more surprises we may have to go to the Moon.”

“Maybe wait until this next one before you make the final decision.”

“What?”

Finally taking the time to pay attention to their route, Tasha noticed that they weren’t in the vicinity of their villa. Open water gave way to an unpopulated boating dock and a boat that carried two waving captains.

“We’re here, Mr. and Mrs. Boseman,” Niha smiled over her shoulders. Your captains for the night are Kyle and Aisar. They’ll take great care of you.”

“Uh, Niha, where exactly is here?”

Niha looked to Chadwick for permission to answer CoCo’s question which he granted with a lazy nod and smile.

“You are about to embark on a Kuoni sunset cruise. Your husband has requested total privacy for your evening. This is the perfect time to watch the sunset and spot a few dolphins during your outing.”

Tasha never got the chance to express her shock or gratitude. Niha’s boat came to a stop at the dock before they were carefully escorted from one mode of transportation to the next. The traditional dhoni, covered in exquisite handcrafted wood and billowing lateen sails, was covered in white roses in the section set aside for Chadwick and Tasha to enjoy alone. Glasses of sparkling wine were presented as gifts to pair a general rundown of the trip before they were left to enjoy the view alone.

Their tour took them past picturesque islands, unaffected and uninhabited, able to exist in gorgeous peace. Conversation flowed as easily as the drinks and, soon, the decision to relax against the plush pallet and pillows followed/

The gentle rock of the boat added serenity to the moment between husband and wife and sat side by side to watch the sun take its final resting spot beyond the horizon. A dolphin jumping out of the ocean for a brief hello made CoCo smile, as she stared into the distance. A gesture so tiny would’ve been overlooked by most, but Chadwick couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

If he had to choose, the moments when his wife was absorbed in her thoughts and with no concept of the world around her were his favorites. Her sunkissed skin absorbed the dwindling rays of sunshine and reflected them tenfold. Flecks of her college self still remained to mesh expertly with the more refined aspects of the beauty acquired through maturation. Chadwick would argue with anyone foolish enough to engage that his wife was the most stunning woman on Earth. But, instead of debating what needed no defense, he took her chin between his index and thumb to command her full attention.

“Can I get you anything else? More wine?”

“No, I think I’m good, babe. Thank you. For everything.”

Smiling, CoCo leaned in for a kiss filled with equal parts love and lust. With no one around,  the risk of offense lessened and she jumped at the opportunity to push the envelope. That simple mantra of whenever, wherever rolled around the corners of her mind as she leveraged her position to straddle Chadwick’s lap. His hands took their time on the journey to her hips before settling in their preferred position.

“Okay, so we’re going to Mars for your birthday. I’ll start booking as soon as we get back.”

Chadwick laughed and shook his head, “You don’t have to go that far. I trust we’ll have a good time either way.”

Both of them could feel the heat of the other through the thin material of their swimsuits as the shared another kiss, this time more intense than the soft pecks throughout the day. Chadwick’s fingertips pressed into the soft skin of CoCo’s waist and hips to guide her movements. He could feel and hear the excitement building as her breathing became shallow. This was the whenever and wherever they’d be searching for.  

At the swivel of her hips in his lap, Chadwick and Tasha shared a moan. Slow grinding was perfect for a night in, but time was waning.  was a sense of urgency in the way that CoCo slid her bathing suit to the side, prompting Chadwick to follow her lead and push his shorts down his thighs. He helped her lift to her knees before using his fingertips to work her pearl in slow circles. Tasha quickly reached down to take him in her palm, forming a half circle around his length to assist him in reaching the peak of his arousal.

“If we’re gonna do this,” Chadwick spoke as he exhaled. “You gotta promise you’ll be quiet.”

Laughing, she bent down to nip at his earlobe, “I was gonna say the same thing to you.”

Their hushed giggles were cut short by simultaneous and different curses. Knowing that time was of the essence, CoCo braced herself with both hands planted on Chadwick’s chest as he adjusted his angle beneath her. Audible sighs of pleasure were lost in the sounds around them while they watched him disappear inside of her inch by inch.

Tasha’s body readily accommodated the stinging stretch of him, hugging and massaging his dick with every rotation of her hips. Satisfied with the honey coating her thighs and his, CoCo planted her knees on either side of her husband’s hips to start a moderate bounce in his lap.

Chadwick was relegated to breathless moaning as Tasha took control. Her face screwed in acute focus, eyes clamped shut, head thrown back and her bottom lipped trapped beneath her teeth. The setting sun cast erotic shadows against the aged wood to transform their bodies into one being.

Her fluid motions became entrancing in the pinks and purples of the impending nightfall. The graceful rise and fall of her breasts matched the rhythmic roll of her hips, adding a visual to the sensation that never seemed to get old when they were together.

“Look at you,” Chadwick whispered into the crook of CoCo’s neck. “So pretty ridin’ daddy’s dick. You gon’ come like this?”

“Yessss!”

“Show me, baby. Don’t stop ‘til you come.”

A dull burn in her thighs did little deter the chase of her approaching orgasm as Tasha went into overdrive. Shifting back to a grinding motion gave her the range to satisfy the throbbing ache within while her clit repeatedly grazed his pelvis. Any extra coaxing would’ve sent her to take her place amongst the stars, which Chadwick knew and used to his advantage.

Firm pressure to her clit with the pad of his thumb gave her the final piece of the puzzle as she came undone in one tremor after the other. Finishing was no longer a priority for Chadwick. His chief concern was getting his wife to the crest of her wave in her favorite position.

Tasha dug her nails into her husband’s back to control the scream bubbling in her chest. At the height of her release, the faint sound of hooping and hollering in the distance felt like an odd hallucination.

“Yeaaaah! That’s how you enjoy the ocean!”

“Get it, girl! Nice moves!”

Tasha rushed to hide her face from the lively group of spectators as their dhoni’s passed in the night. Chadwick held her close to shield her from embarrassment though he found humor in the situation. The lack of light in the immediate area kept their identities concealed, removing the worry of ending up on the front page of a tabloid.

“Y’all have a nice night now,” Chadwick hollered back in the midst of his laughter.

“Same to you, buddy! Enjoy the honeymoon! Don’t do nothin’ we wouldn’t do!”

Chadwick accepted the unsolicited advice with a wave of his hand and a thank you until the visitors were no longer in sight. Collapsing on top of each other in a heap, Chadwick set off a string of laughs at the absurdity of the situation.

“I can not believe that just happened. We fucked on a boat and got caught by the only other tourists for miles. What is life right now?”

“You put on a damn good show though, baby. Maybe we can get some of that on camera later tonight?”

“On camera you say,” she asked with a playful glint in her eye. “Good. I think I’m ready for my close up.”

                                      ____________

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[colorofmymindposts]

Roaming the Greenwood

Fandom: Maurice — E.M. Forster, Maurice (1914), Maurice (1987) Pairing: Kitty Hall/Violet Tonks, Maurice Hall/Alec Scudder Rating: Gen Status: Complete Word Count: 949 Summary: Kitty discovers two men so very similar to herself and her friend, but their differences cannot be reconciled. Tags: Slight Canon Divergence, Social Commentary, Intersectionality Issues, Gays in Love But They Don’t Know How to Support Their Community, Set in 1934, My Version of an Epilogue  Story: 

The sanguine greenwood, unkempt, looming, and ancient in its prowess reminded Kitty very little of the pristine and bordered Domestic Institute she once attended as a girl. She said as much to her Violet, with whom she walked arm in arm.

“That’s why I suggested we take our walk here. There’s a privacy to this place unlike any other in England,” her friend said intelligently.

Always a fanatic for learning, Kitty never minded the way in which she was continually reeducated by Violet. Goodness knows their heads were filled with nothing but rubbish at that girls’ school where they met so long ago.

“I should think that would be ideal for our purposes, don’t you think?”

Needing no further prompting, Kitty took Violet’s face in her hands and kissed her sweetly, her pert, soft lips melting into Kitty’s own. Their kisses were languid and unhurried, neither passion or fear of discovery propelling them forward. Their bodies were comfortable and attuned to each other, and Kitty began to stroke Violet’s cheek gently with her fingers while her lover’s arms circled round Kitty’s waist. Their love was practically palpable in the air, chorused by birdsong.

Of course, it would only be when Kitty was contemplating leaving daring violet marks upon Violet’s neck that a thwack! noise unidentifiable in the deep woods startled them and had them apart immediately, smoothing down their skirts consciously.

“Couldn’t have been an animal, I suppose,” Kitty surmised, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it to calm her nerves. All her friend had to do was extend her hand, and Kitty placed one between her proffered fingers, cupping the lighter as it set the cigarette alight before Violet brought it to her deliciously wet, swollen lips.

“It’s likely a hunter,” Violet said after taking a long drag. “Although they shouldn’t be this close to town. We really ought to tell them off before they kill one of us by accident.”

“Really Violet, you say the most morbid things,” she admonished lightly even though she liked it.

Her friend rebutted her firmly still. “I say the most morbid things about men, you should note. I radiate perfect pleasantness when I speak of any other subject, especially you, my dear.”

Kitty scoffed, knowing this was meant to mollify her. A teasing remark came to mind, and she could not help but pursue it. “The hunter could be a woman. You don’t know.”

“As if! A gentle lady or a woman of lower rank in our society would never. I doubt even if we Socialists were to have our way women and men would all occupy the same positions. Besides, it goes against our teachings at the Domestic Institute. I think Miss Forster would have a conniption if women were to take the traditional places of men.”

“We did in the Great War,” Kitty contested. “I think anyway that Miss Forster would have a conniption if she saw what we’ve shared in the woods. And in dormitories, and our bedroom…”

Kitty was unable to finish this thought as they both burst into giggles unceremoniously at the thought of the red-nosed, severe, Christian-suffering school marm discovering they were disciples of Sappho and Radclyffe Hall.

Twigs snapping in the near distance sobered their newfound mirth, however, and again they were on guard. The sounds were closer than before, and the women sought out each others’ hands for reassurance, choosing to hide behind some towering shrubs. Once the figures could be seen through a small parting in the bushes, Kitty realized they hardly had any need to be worried. Two woodcutters lumbered through the greenwood, and somehow it seemed as though the men belonged there and always had, like the trees that shrouded the four of them, herself, Violet, and the woodcutters, altogether from the prying eyes of society. There was something so familiar in the gait of the one man, perhaps the color of his hair as well, but Kitty simply could not place it in that peculiar moment. Transfixed as she was, she was equally disgusted. It was very rare that she had to encounter anyone outside of clean-cut suburbs, and the result produced in this instance had her distressed at how unabashedly dirt and filth clung to their clothes, how they were so uncaring of how they were perceived. It seemed simultaneously a great mistake and privilege they held unlike a woman of her upbringing.

The one man with curiously curly hair turned to his companion in confusion. “I could’ve sworn I’s smelt smoke in bout these parts.”

“Well, I see no fire or any indication of one. I think we’re in no danger today, Alec,” the other replied, in a voice much more polished and well-bred, finishing with an endearing smile.

“If there’s was someone or other, I’d chase ‘em out. This place belongs to you and me alone, sir,” the last word placed with some kind of emphasis, an inside joke or tell Kitty could not understand. The fair-haired man threw back his head and laughed mirthfully. He wrapped an arm around his shorter fellow’s shoulders and staggered on out of the clearing deeper into the green.

It was clear the nature of their relationship, a friendship tinged with illicit intimacy, a dynamic she knew all too well. But there was something about the two, of their status (or lack thereof) and immediate call to seek out and identify, as though the greenwood was theirs alone. It did not settle well in her stomach at all. Silently, she turned to Violet, pressing a finger to her own lips to indicate they should leave this place quietly. It was evidently never meant for them in more ways than one. 

Author Notes: This idea obviously comes from Forster's concept for a potential epilogue with Kitty, Maurice, and Alec; while I am aware that there is an existing version of this epilogue, I wanted to explore some of the nuances of Maurice's and Kitty's characters, especially Kitty since we see/read so little of her in the film/novel.

This also serves as some steaming hot commentary on class privilege with lesbians who identify as sapphic versus those who are more comfortable with dyke and less intellectual terminology. I also try to address early gatekeeping in the mlm community, which you will hopefully see what I mean in a bit. I feel like Forster's oversimplification of the female characters in his novel (like saying Kitty would immediately disapprove of Maurice/Alec, which serves no other purpose than being a mouthpiece for society rather than being her own character) stems from his misogyny, and I wanted to address that through this fic. 

While this novel was Way ahead of its time and so important, it's exclusively focused on a gay male narrative and thoroughly assumes all women are attracted to men; plus my lesbian brain couldn't help but ship Kitty and Violet after Kitty *brought her friend home* in chapter 29 much like Maurice had many times with Clive, no? And Kitty never marries in the novel so this could totally happen. I am aware Violet is not a character in the film and that she was not mentioned in Forster's epilogue, but I added her anyways. Please let me know what you think of my version! 

[gb-fics]

On Tour (B-side)

A fanfiction with the pairing:

Darvish Kenji x Utahiroba Jun (Golden Bomber)

Note: There is an A-side featuring Kirisho and Kyan. You don’t have to know it, but it might make some things clearer.

If it had been possible to get degrees for personal talents, Jun would have gotten a MA on fanboying. He would also have gotten a PhD on denial.

There were several things he had to be in constant denial of to make his life bearable. Although he was living the fanboy’s dream to play in a band and meet long-admired artists, he also had to deal with the fact, that his band members were complete idiots 50% and naked 99% of the time. He had to focus on the respect he felt for their band leader and on how much he loved the cheering of the crowd. It was worth ignoring every other aspect of his current lifestyle and it was this philosophy of denial that had steered him through the last years safely.

What Jun was denying this very moment, however, was how nice Kenji’s arm felt around his waist.

“I can walk on my own, really”, he said again, although he had said it at least three times since leaving the hotel without any result.

He himself had suggested to just stay in the lobby while waiting for whatever was going on in their hotel room – a closer definition was not allowed by Jun’s philosophy, because the possibilities all felt highly unsettling to him – to end. But Kenji had insisted on walking to the park they had been able to see from their window.

“You should go easy on your foot. Even if it doesn’t feel too bad now, you shouldn’t strain your ankle too much”, Kenji said.

Jun was leaning onto him heavily and even through all those untypical lairs of clothes he could feel how lean and strong Kenji’s body was. The sensation made him feel even weaker in a way that had nothing to do with his ankle, but was all about his stomach and his knees.

“That’s why I wanted to stay in the lobby”, he pointed out huffily, partly to convince himself that he was annoyed with Kenji and nothing else.

“But it’s much nicer here, isn’t it?”, Kenji returned.

Jun had to admit that he was right. The park around them was green and neatly trimmed in spite of the weather that wasn’t quite spring yet. The low temperature had caused most people to stay at home today and the only strollers in sight were a young mother pushing a buggy in front of her and an old man with full, grey hair. The atmosphere was calm and peaceful and for a place in the middle of the city it was surprisingly quiet as well.

“It’s nice”, Jun admitted.

“Want to sit down?”, Kenji suggested and led him over to a park bench nearby.

His warm body vanished from Jun’s side and he suddenly felt cold.

“Here, careful”, Kenji said and waited for Jun to sit down, before he placed himself next to him.

Jun hated it when Kenji put on that caring attitude. He hated it when he spoke so friendly and when his touch was so gentle. It was far easier to deal with him, when he was being silly or annoying. Jun could just be angry at him then. But when he was acting so nice and mature, his feelings were a lot more nuanced than that. Jun didn’t like nuanced. He preferred angry.

Jun cast a side glance at Kenji.

He also hated his bare face, that was only covered by a large pair of sunglasses right now.

Jun loved ikemen. He loved them to a point that was almost questionable. But why did Kenji – that stupid, silly and stupid man driving him crazy all the time – have to be so goddamn handsome? The lines of his face were perfect and clean. No one should have such a symmetric face. Or such a well-shaped body, for the matter.

“What?”, Kenji asked. Obviously, he had caught him staring.

Hastily Jun licked his lips, trying to look somewhere else. All ikemen made him nervous. Unfortunately, Kenji was no exception, even if he knew him so well.

“I’m just wondering when we will be able to go back”, he lied.

“From what I have seen, it might take a while. Yutaka and Shou are probably just …”

Jun pretended to cover his ears when really, he tried to hide that he was starting to blush.

“Don’t say it, I don’t want to think about it”, he begged.

“Are you embarrassed to think of two adult men …”, Kenji started, but Jun interrupted him, before he could finish the dreadful sentence.

He had used the same voice that he always used when he was teasing Jun, trying to shock him with explicit statements.

“Kenji!”, Jun shouted, his voice breaking off at the edges. It always happened to him when he felt that certain panic rising up inside of him as if his carefully build wall of denial was about to be crushed. He knew he sounded hysteric. “They are our friends. And we are sharing rooms with them. I’m just worried the dynamics of the band will get weird.”

Kenji waved it off. He was wearing a light black sport jacket and the fabric crumpled at his arms as he moved.

“It won’t be weird. We’re all professionals.”

Jun decided not to discuss that statement.

What really bothered him wasn’t what was going on between Shou and Yutaka up in that hotel room. There had always been looks between the two of them, hidden glances when they thought no one would notice and touches that lasted just a little bit too long to be entirely friendly. But now, Jun was worried for himself. Before, they had been four dudes hanging out, more or less. Now it would be a couple and Jun and Kenji hanging out. Probably a lot of just Jun and Kenji, too. Separate rooms with double beds. Jun wasn’t sure he would manage to be angry at Kenji all the time. In the end, he wasn’t sure how solid his protecting wall of denial really was.

“Hey, maybe we need to get a room for ourselves tonight”, Kenji said and raised his eyebrows over his sunglasses.

Jun felt his cheeks heating up and cursed himself for his own girly behaviour. Surely, he hadn’t meant what Jun was thinking of. Not that Jun was thinking of anything specific. In fact, he was denying any thought at all right now.

“I’m not sure what Shou would hate more”, Jun said. “If we disturbed them again, or if we wasted money for an additional room.”

“Ah.” Kenji furrowed his forehead thoughtfully. Through the tinted glasses Jun could make out his dark eyes, but only just so. “Probably the waste of money.”

The seriousness with which he had spoken made Jun laugh. It came out as a wet snorting.

“Then we really shouldn’t”, he said.

He wished they could go back to the hotel, though. He had forgotten to take his jacket and there was a chilly wind going now and then. The bench underneath was also cold and his butt started to freeze. He crossed the arms in front of his chest, but it hardly helped.

“But I would really love to be alone in a hotel room with you, Jun”, Kenji sing-songed. “Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

“Stop it!”, Jun scolded and cast him a stern look.

It was exactly due to this kind of teasing that he didn’t want to spend more time alone with Kenji in the future. He never knew how to react to it. He was pretty sure it was just teasing, but not entirely sure. He was also pretty sure that he wanted it to be just teasing. But not entirely sure.

“Let’s go back. I’m cold”, he changed the topic, before Kenji could continue his jokes.

“Don’t worry, I can warm you with my body!”, Kenji said and without warning wrapped his arms around him.

Jun screamed.

It was situations like these that had gotten his ankle turned.

“Let go of me!”, he protested, trying to wriggle himself free from Kenji’s embrace.

His arms were extremely strong and his chest was hard as he pushed against it with his hands. His body seemed to be made out of iron, but warm and smooth and with just of the right amount of soft anyway.

Jun felt his knees going weak again.

Kenji was breathing down his neck. The warm sensation made Jun shiver. Even when he was not wearing make-up, Kenji always smelled a little of paint as if it was a scent you couldn’t wash off entirely. Jun really liked this smell. The temple of Kenji’s sunglasses was digging into his cheek.

“Let go now!”, he repeated.

“I’m glad you turned your ankle. You can’t run away now”, Kenji chuckled and placed a kiss on Jun’s cheek.

His lips were soft and a little dry, but very warm. Jun felt his ears turn hot as Kenji kissed his cheek again.

“Stop!”, he squealed.

He didn’t want people to see him like this. It made him feel embarrassed. And he was embarrassed in front of Kenji for blushing and nonetheless, he also liked the feeling of his lips. He didn’t know how to behave and that made him feel nervous and awkward. Weirdly enough, it also made him feel good and happy, which resulted in his clamour being mixed with awkward giggles.

Finally, Kenji let go, looking him over. The sunglasses sat on his nose lopsided now. Combined with his goofy grin it made him look boyish; in a very charming and handsome way.

“You get flustered so easy”, he observed. “It’s so cute. I’m sorry, I can’t stop teasing you.”

“You are so annoying”, Jun said.

“I’m sorry”, Kenji said; all calm again as if nothing had happened just now. “Here, take my jacket.”

He unzipped it and stripped it off with practiced motions. He was wearing a simple grey shirt underneath and for a moment Jun could do nothing but stare at his muscular arms with the veins showing beneath the skin.

“No, it’s okay, really”, Jun said hastily.

Kenji held the jacket out to him.

“Please, take it. You said you are cold. I’m fine.”

The silly tone of his voice had vanished now.

Hesitantly Jun took the jacket, putting it on himself. It smelled like Kenji and still felt warm from his body. It was almost as if he was still hugging him.

“Thanks”, Jun said.

Kenji leaned back on the bench, watching the lady with the buggy who was now heading towards the exit of the park. The old man from earlier was nowhere to be seen.

Jun studied Kenji. He seemed relaxed and from one moment to the next completely indifferent. It was this indifference that sent Jun reeling.

It was always like this. One minute, Kenji was hugging him, teasing him, in a way that made Jun’s knees go weak and his face heat up and his stomach drop; and the next he was chatting with Yutaka about some baseball thing. Sometimes Jun was convinced that his flirting was serious, and other times Kenji seemed to fool around with him as if he was nothing but a cute pet.

It made Jun feel insecure, flattered and disappointed at once. Of course, he did not want Kenji to mean it. But the thought of him not meaning it at all was somewhat hurtful. He was confused, about Kenji’s behaviour and about being bothered by it so much. Most of all, he was angry.

Although it was true, that Jun tended to be a little girly – he was the first one to admit so himself – it did not mean he was shy or hesitant. One did not last long with Golden Bomber that way. Their main activity was to get crazy and naked in public. Being shy or hesitant would have disqualified him long ago. In fact, Jun could get quite aggressive. Being angry made him aggressive for example.

And boy, Kenji’s carefree expression right now managed to get him angry for sure.

He leaned over and took hold of Kenji’s face. He held it between his palms, the plastic of the sunglasses against his fingertips. It felt cold compared to Kenji’s cheeks and Jun got close to him so fast, he didn’t even have time to put on a surprised expression.

Jun kissed him on the lips, holding the position as long as he dared to. He wanted to defend himself and decided that attacking was the best way to do it.

By now, he knew what kissing Kenji felt like. He was prepared for his soft, warm lips and prepared for the feeling of holding his face like this. But he was not prepared for the leap his stomach took and not for the warmth inside his chest that wanted him to go further, to push Kenji down on this very park bench and kiss him with closed eyes and opened mouth, with teeth and tongue and hunger.

Overwhelmed by his own greed, Jun pulled back.

Kenji had lost his balance a little and had to sit up straight again.

Jun looked out onto the park.

“What was that?”, Kenji asked with a laugh.

“I just wanted you to know what it feels like when you suddenly harass me like that”, Jun defended himself, still not looking over at Kenji.

“So it feels that good?”, Kenji assured.

His answer was so smooth, Jun couldn’t help laughing at it. He snorted and turned his head towards Kenji.

“I really don’t get you”, he said.

Kenji was grinning. It was incredible how a man could look so silly and so handsome at the same time.

“Sorry, if I got something wrong”, he said. “You just have to show me again. Let’s go back to the hotel. We’ll ask for another room at the reception.”

Indeed, Kenji got up and suddenly Jun felt insecure again. He couldn’t tell if Kenji was joking, or if he really wanted to kiss Jun again in a private hotel room. Maybe he had misread Jun’s behaviour. Maybe he had gotten it right. Jun didn’t know what it had meant himself.

“I don’t want to go. My foot hurts again”, he lied, just to stay on this park bench and avoid any possible consequences of leaving it.

“No, come on”, Kenji insisted and extended his hand.

For some reason, Jun could never resist when Kenji asked him to do something. It wasn’t logical, but just a general feeling of not wanting to let him down.

He took his hand and allowed Kenji to pull him to his feet.

“My ankle …”, he started again to make up an excuse.

But Kenji didn’t give him the time to protest. He bended his knees and swapped Jun of the ground.

Jun squealed.

He wasn’t exactly fragile and not used to someone picking him up like a picknick basket. For a very silly moment, it felt as if he was flying.

Startled but laughing he clung to Kenji’s chest. He felt surprisingly save like this. It was a good feeling – not even Jun could deny that.

“Please, ask for separate rooms”, he said anyway.

“Are you kidding?”, Kenji chuckled without letting him down. “I’m going to ask for the wedding suite.”

[lonelypond]

PhotoJazz, Chapter 4

Love Live, NicoMaki, 6.6K, 4/5

Summary: Nico and Maki invade LA for a photoshoot.

A Fine Romance

Maki was not a morning person. Not going to bed was the only way she was ever up early enough to see the sun rise. And that usually only happened if she was near a beach. Or caught by an idea. And yes, Maki, was caught at the moment, but it was more like tripped up by circumstances beyond her control and snared by a semi-scenic view while bothered by bitey gnats, rather than calmly enjoying the horizon. Sunglasses, coat, 2 cameras, a laptop, and a change of clothes shoved into one bag, plus the sweat pants, t-shirt, and a hoodie comfortable enough to sleep on the plane in she was wearing. Nico was bright eyed, impossibly bright eyed behind large sunglasses, and practically merry, dressed in a svelte black knit dress with a gray shawl thrown over her hair and shoulders. She waved at Maki, pulling her bag behind her as she approached with a chirped, “Good morning.”

Maki glared over her sliding sunglasses, “Not until I sleep it’s not.”

“You look terrible.” Nico frowned, pushing Maki’s sunglasses back up the redhead’s nose. Maki was too tired to startle at the encroachment.

“Flattery, how kind.” Sarcasm before noon was a given, Yazawa might as well get used to it. “It’s your fault.

A smirk, of course it was a smirk, “Oh, did thinking about Nico keep you up all night?”

“Researching your photo shoot did.” Maki followed Nico to the gate.

Nico waved her free hand airily, speeding along, “Nico has it all under control.”

“No, I took a look at the venue on line last night. And Houdini. I have some really good ideas.” Maki raced a bit to catch up to Nico, cursing herself for sounding eager.

Nico stopped, turning to face the photographer, “Nico knows what works.”

Maki was beginning to believe half of her conversations with Nico were hallucinations. Unacceptable. Maki was not going to get dragged around LA like Nico had dragged her around Evanston and Chicago. Maki pulled her phone out her pocket, showing Nico the message stream, “You sent me this: ‘She redid Garbo’s image like Nico needs you to do with hers.’”

“That was last night. Now Nico has a plan.” Nico frowned at Maki’s vibrating with censure.

“A plan you didn’t ask me about? That’s like having a Ferrari and only taking it out to go to the grocery store.” Maki was shouting, people were staring, “Did you even research what I can do?”

“Ferrari?” Nico snorted, dodging Maki’s question. “Curvy and fast and driveable?”

“Expensive, a fucking work of art, and extremely temperamental.” Maki caught herself before a glass window met her phone, shoving it deep in her coat pocket.

“Do you do your own PR?”

“Yes.” Maki began speed walking toward the gate again. “Why did you even call me?”

“We worked together well. You were nice to my little brother. You’re cute.” Nico smiled as she matched Maki’s pace.

“We did not work together well. It was only going to be one time so I just bit my lip to get it over with.” Maki glared down at the speedy speck keeping up with her too easily.

Nico’s look was a carefully nuanced take on ‘who’s fault was that?” and Maki felt like spitting. Then her brain threw up on the word “cute.”

“I am not cute.”

Nico giggled, “I beg to differ. You’re adorable.”

“I am not.” Maki huffed, changing the shoulder she had her bag slung over . “You just said you were ‘a fucking work of art’ so obviously you’re not into being modest. Nico knows cute.”

Maki stopped. “Cute is for little kids and puppies.” She stared at Nico, “Is all this an attempt to...are you trying to…” Maki felt a shiver, “date me? Is that why you...the flowers...” Maki had been trying not to let a suspicion form in her mind but the ROSES had kept staring at her from her studio work table.

Nico doubled over, with laughter or potential cramp, Maki wasn’t sure. Then she heard the sniggering. “See. Adorable. No, Nico is not trying to date or drive you, Ms. NishiCARno. Nico really really needs a photographer and Nozomi is being a really really terrible friend, leaving me like this, right when people are interested in Nico’s next step.” Nico blinked, her eyes soft, deep and hopeful, “But Nico needs people to pay attention so if I have to be out of my comfort zone, being associated with someone stylish, hot, intriguing, high class, and talented doesn’t hurt my image.”

It was all plotted out, emotionless, practical, rapacious, their interactions designed to boost Nico’s profile and image. Maki respected the thought process while swallowing the hurt at being revealed to be as much of a tool to Yazawa as her camera.

Nico’s next statement was softer, “Nico has no time for personal, right now.” She rested her hand quickly on Maki’s, “But I don’t mind the eye candy.”

Oh gods, somehow that made it worse. Not only was Maki a tool, she was practically a pinup. How very impersonal. Maki pulled her hand back, inhaling, forcing her voice not to quaver. No one was walking over her, certainly not this tiny template of terror, “I ordered props. For part of this, we will be doing things my way.” She stood as tall as she could, eyes narrowed, jaw set. “Or I don’t get on the plane.”

Nico shrugged casually, as if Maki were being silly about which ice cream flavor to choose, and vroomed down the corridor leading to their plane, Maki struggling to keep up as adrenaline drained from her system.

Fancy hotel, penthouse suite. 2 rooms and shared spaces. The entire floor. Private elevator. When Maki travelled, it was usually to a family holding, the beach house, the mountain cabin, the friend’s barely off Broadway loft. This much space was...disconcerting. Strange. It made her want to be close to someone, but the only person to be close to was Nico and that wasn’t happening. Maki missed Eli and Umi, even Alisa. They were always good for pointing out a new side of things, of finding amusing quirks to tease at, there was a comfortable level of banter, honed over college studies and joint travels. With Nico, it was like Maki had been swept up in a hurricane of extroverted celebrity status with a steady rain of charming and washed ashore someplace she’d never even seen on a map. Disorienting. Plus, the eye candy thing...how did you even respond to someone who dismisses you so thoroughly, then compliments you in the same sentence.

Nico and Maki barely spoken on the flight (Nico had taken the time to inform Maki about the decibel levels of her snoring when they landed) or the limo ride here. No comfort level, no banter or patter or...Maki sighed, threw herself on divan number 3 and started carefully examining the nearly 10 pounds of wood and brass and leather bellows of the camera in front of her. She had a page up on her laptop that demonstrated all the ways the lens could be angled and modified. It was fascinating. And a little scary. But Nico had said the camera was hers so Maki was more confident than she might have been in how much fun she could have. The hardest part would be not seeing the pictures until she got to a darkroom. And figuring out how to use a darkroom again. Maki had taken many photos on film and gone through the basics at school, but she’d focused so much on digital and animated manipulations that physical ones would have to be forcibly remembered. An interesting challenge. Nico seemed to present them.

Maki lifted up the film holders, choosing one to slide in. Now what would make an interesting test picture? Nico came out of the bathroom, in the very definition of a little black dress, shiny metallic heels adding to her height, hair swept up in a bun, eyelashes lengthened, eyes, well, the eyes, they were judging, Maki could tell.

“Nerd.” Nico pursed her lips, “Go get changed.”

“Huh?” Maki glanced up from where she was cautiously trying to slide the frame into the camera without scratching any of the carefully ground glass necessary for operating the contraption.

Nico rested a hand on her hip, “We are attending a party. You have people to meet. Nico is helping you extend your social circle.”

Maki shook her head, pointing to the camera, “This is the only company I need.”

Nico pouted, “There’s food. Don’t you want dinner? It’s in the ballroom downstairs so you can always wander back here.”

“What’s the party for?”

Nico shrugged, “Thursday? I don’t know. Someone’s premiering something, some company brought several cases of champagnes, lots of actresses are wandering around looking for someone to compliment their choice of designer charity. And shoes. Always pay attention to the shoes. Dates have been ruined over the clash between Louboutin fans and my Brian Atwoods.”

Maki slowly finished sliding in the negative, “You sound jaded. And are shoes really that important?”

Nico’s laugh was harsh and throaty as she sat primly on the edge of the couch, not quite near Maki, “You should see Nico in her Georgia Vic boots. They lace up to here.” Nico traced a line midway up her thigh with a finger. “Your inner Mapplethorpe would drool.” Nico stared thoughtfully at her current shoes, sleek, stiletto and silver gold leather, “Nico has been doing this for a long time. I thought it might be fun to bring new eyes.” Nico leaned in toward Maki, lengthy eyelashes fluttering as Maki’s fought her tendency to focus on the color variations of Nico’s lips. Tonight the pink had a touch of gray. Nico continued, almost wistful. “Such pretty eyes too. Would you prefer lovely lavender or amazing amethyst when I TWIG about you?” She pulled out her phone and prepared to take a photo of Maki.

Flushing, Maki knocked away the phone as the camera clicked, her hand briefly brushing Nico’s. “Vexed violet if you post that shot. Please stop with the compliments. They don’t work on me.” Maki hefted the Century Universal between them, “You wouldn’t get any closeups from here with this thing.”

Another pout, “That’s a not subtle way to get Nico to back off. Isn’t it? Pretty camera though, they took good care of it.” Nico stroked the cherry and mahogany as Maki put the camera back on the table. “Come to the Gala with me. Nico needs a wingwoman.”

“I didn’t bring anything formal.” Maki slouched, still in her sweats. “All working clothes. And I thought you weren’t interested in dating.”

“There’s dating and there’s…” Nico winked, stretching a hand out, neatly trimmed nails painted silver catching the light, “flirting with possibilities.”

Maki refused to acknowledge Nico, back to fidgeting with the camera as Nico watched her, amused at Maki’s discomfort at the subtext.

“Hmmmm….” Nico started entering numbers into her phone, “I’m sure the concierge can scrounge up a tuxedo jacket.” Nico glanced at Maki speculatively, “And I’m betting you packed at least one impressive street art inspired t-shirt. Just tell me you have something that isn’t sweats.”

“Black jeans.” Maki admitted.

Nico flashed the okay sign as she spoke into her phone, “Hi, this is Nico Yazawa in the penthouse suite. Do you think you could scrounge me up a tuxedo jacket in a medium-ish size, decent shoulders, tapered at the waist, and some kind of street style fashion forward hat….Yes, it’s for the Gala...Half an hour would be perfect. Thank you!”

Maki couldn’t remember agreeing to go with Nico. That seemed to be happening near daily since Eli’s marriage. But then Nico was shoving her playfully off the couch with a laugh and Maki went to change into the only respectable piece of clothing she’d packed.

My Funny Valentine

The band was good. That seemed to be a feature of parties where Maki and Nico’s paths crossed. Jazz again, with a singer. Nico rolled her eyes and pulled Maki to the bar, grabbing them both champagne flutes.

“Here’s to taking Hollywood by storm, Imogen.” Nico’s eyes fizzed with daring as champagne bubbles tickled Maki’s nose.

“Imogen?” Maki wiggled her nose to hold back a sneeze, then tilted her glass to tap Nico’s.

“Imogen Cunningham, nudes and flowers.” Nico puffed her chest out like a feathered show off about to strut and crow. “Nico now knows more about photographers than you do.Want to know why Berenice Abbott used black and white in her photos of New York City? Nico can tell you.”

Maki giggled, a little stunned by Nico’s sudden desire to be an encyclopedia of photographers. “Do you want a camera for Christmas too? I’ll let Santa know.”

Nico pouted, “Nico is fine. What does Maki want to talk about?”

Maki glanced around the ballroom, the quartet at the front breaking into a lively rendition of “My Funny Valentine.” She poked Nico with her empty flute, suddenly giddy and wondering if she shouldn’t have just gotten some rest or food first, “Name the composer.” Maki swept her arm out to point to the band, Nico ducking under.

“Hey watch it.” Nico confiscated the glass, “Let’s get you some food.”

“Composer.” Maki was going to continue stubborn, no matter how much her stomach rumbled at the thought of tasting anything solid enough to chew.

“Rodgers and Hart. Nico was in a production of Babes in Arms in a community theatre in high school. Want me to sing ‘The Lady is A Tramp”’ for you? You seem too hungry to wait for dinner this late.” Nico’s smile bumped up several notches and she reached out to pull someone into a hug, “Ags! I haven’t seen you in forever.“

‘NICO!” A tiny blonde screamed and leapt into Nico’s embrace. “You’re back!!???!?!”

“With two degrees.” Nico announced proudly as most of the room focused temporarily on this reunion.

“I’m so impressed. Everyone was saying you’d get bored and Northwestern would be too hard.”

Maki noticed Nico’s jaw tighten, but her smile only got brighter, “Studying lines is good practice for college.”

Ags giggled, “It would be. Maybe I’ll find someplace with cute fraternity guys.”

“Go for it.” Nico raised her hands to her temples, “Nico Ni recommends it.”

Ags lost it, giggles pouring out of her, “Oh, Nico, it’s been years. You’re still so...Nico.”

Again, a tightening of Nico’s jaw. Ags’s brown eyes finally noticed Maki, “Who’s your date?”

“This is my friend, Maki Nishikino. She’s a photographer. Had a show at the Annenberg two years ago.”

“Ooh, good looking and distinguished. You could always pick ‘em.” Ags extended a hand, “I’m Agnes Villeneuve, Nico and I did a few shows together.”

Maki shook Agnes’s hand, unimpressed with how lightly it rested in hers. Wouldn’t trust that grip with any of her cameras. She wondered what other facts Nico had filed away about her career, right alongside Harriet Ruth Louise’s, Martha Cooper’s, and Berenice Abbott’s. Maki started twirling her hair as Nico filled Agnes in on the plans for her LA visit. When Agnes started to dish gossip from her latest job, Maki excused herself to grab some food.

Ah, everything was better and more bearable with half a tray worth of savory smoked salmon vol-au-vents, Maki realized, surveying the party again, calmer, not sure where Nico had gotten to. Then she was stumbled into with a giggle. She glanced down to find her arms full of a woman filling out a slip of a scarlet dress.

“Are you all right?” Maki asked politely as she assisted the woman to her feet as rapidly as possible.

“Are you Maki Nishikino? My friends and I were wondering. I’m Amy, hi!” Blue eyes in too pale skin blinked at Maki.

Maki smoothed her hair back over her ear, “I am. Did you…”

“OH MY GOD! So what were Anju and Erena like? Did you have a threesome?” A grab of her arm and Maki found herself stumbling backwards, “I’d pose naked for you. Do you like bubble baths?”

Maki thought as often as she heard some variation on that, she’d be used to it. But no, her whole body went to ‘avoid apocalypse’ mode while her face turned as red as biologically possible and her brain refused to provide anything that could qualify as conversation, or even syllables. It was a little like scat singing with only the empty, creaky passage of air through her vocal chords. “Drink” came out eventually as Maki picked an adjacent clump of partygoers to dive into, nodding at one, inadvertently elbowing another, escaping as quickly as possible. She picked up another flute of champagne at the bar, wondering if she should just retreat upstairs and get a bottle of Laphroig from room service.

“What the hell did that woman say to you? Offer to pose nude?” Nico’s voice barked, loud enough that everyone nearby turned to stare. Maki felt the flute slide out of her fingers. It tilted when it hit the bar, spilling. “Really? Wow. You have it worse than Nico.”

Maki gulped, not making eye contact with ANYONE and mouthing “Water” at the bartender. He popped the lid on a small bottle of Limonata San Pellegrino and handed it over. Maki took a swallow, hissing a little at the citrus bite.

“Hand me a champagne, please.” A smooth voice slid into Maki’s hearing. She turned. A tall, elegant woman in a black and gold suit, with matching stacked bracelets, smiled at her, “Maki Nishikino, right? I’m honored to meet you.” Maki picked up a flute and handed it to the new person, feeling Nico lean into the bar on the other side of her. After a sip, the conversation continued, “I’m Jada Jefferson. I saw your work at the Annenberg, but what I really loved was how you worked mythology into your Tsubasa Kira shoot. She said it impacted the songs she wrote for her next album.” A slow smile, a toasty welcome to match the warm brown of Jada’s skin tone, “Impressive to have that much of an effect.” Jada tilted her glass toward Maki, who could feel Nico vibrating next to her.

Then Nico’s hand reached across Maki to grab her own glass of champagne. “We were having a conversation.”

The smile got broader, “Nico, right? My little cousin loved your show. My aunty used to buy her your albums for her birthday and Christmas. Fun stuff for kids. She cried when you retired.”

Nico spluttered. Maki was a little fascinated and found herself half turning to watch. Jada continued, cutting off any response from Nico. “What brings you to LA, Maki?”

“Nico.” Nico and Maki both spoke at the same moment, with completely different intonations. Nico huffed as Maki continued, “She dragged me out here because one of my best friends eloped with her pet photographer. They’re on their honeymoon in Australia right now.”

“Ah, that explains it. You seem more panther than tabby.” Jada sipped her champagne.

Maki was only watching Nico out of her peripheral vision but she swore the tiny tantrum went white with rage, “Nope. Just a favor for a friend. Temping.” Maki laughed, “Haven’t done that since college. It’s nice to be flown first class though.” Maki admitted.

“Well, if you want a tour of LA’s...” Jada paused, “Of anything LA, really, nightspots, museums, statuary, here’s my card. My schedule’s fairly flexible. I have my own law firm.” Jada’s fingers lingered on Maki’s hand, gold and onyx bangles jingling on her wrist.

“Thanks!” Maki pocketed the card with a nod.

“You won’t have time.” Nico muttered, nudging Maki with a sharp elbow, as Jada moved to a group of people she was obviously friendly with.

Maki raised an eyebrow, “I don’t have a personal assistant for many reasons, one is that so no one tells me my schedule.” Maki’s grin was provocative, “Plus, after I’m done with you…” Maki shrugged.

“Classy, Nishikino. Nico has friends to find.” Nico whirled away, her mood stormy. Amused, Maki wondered if she should try a test photo with the Century, but she didn’t want to waste the negatives. Did Nico have anything to wear for the Houdini part of the photoshoot? Maybe the concierge could help out again, if Maki asked for something channelling the Debbie Ocean at the end of Oceans 8 vibe. She should go upstairs, look over her Houdini research and plan her shots. She would save a dozen negatives for that and keep the Fuji handy. How far into Houdini mode would Nico be willing to go? Obviously, actually escaping required practice Nico didn’t have, but Maki had ideas to make it look like Nico had without endangering her. Getting Nico in the water tank would probably take some persuading. Maki finished her water and headed to the elevator. Time to write it all down and sketch out the best angles. The Century Universal and the limited film at hand made her choices more weighted.

The More I See You

Maki stumbled out of her bedroom. Too early again, two days in a row. Nico was already awake, with variety breakfast options spread out on the table.

“Sit and eat. The limo’s due in a half an hour.” Nico tilted her head at Maki as she picked at a fruit salad, “Your hair’s standing up. Have a nightmare?”

“Right now.” Maki grumbled, grabbing a scone.

“Rude.” Nico stuck out her tongue and pushed a mug in Maki’s direction, “I made coffee.”

Maki grunted, chewing through the scone, “Donuts are nice.”

“Not healthy.”

“Morale is important.” Maki inhaled coffee, leaning over the mug, waking up brain cell by brain cell.

Nico leaned back, laced her fingers together and stretched. A few more of Maki’s brain cells woke up. Nico bopped to her feet. “Nico is going to change. We’ll pack up what you don’t eat. Don’t need you getting silly from hunger again, like last night.”

“There won’t be champagne.” Maki pointed out.

Nico stopped by the couch, picking up a garment bag, “The concierge had this delivered. What is it?”

“For the Houdini part. I told her Sandra Bullock with the martini at the end of Oceans 8.” Nico didn’t say anything and Maki wondered if she’d gone too far, picking out a look, “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Nico nodded, unzipping the bag halfway, but black and white formal isn’t terribly gripping without a frame to drape over, “It’s fine.” Nico licked her lips, thoughtful, “Nico is just surprised by your attention to detail.”

Maki shrugged and grabbed a strawberry, “I don’t want to waste your time. I planned out a few shots. We can discuss them on the ride over. It shouldn’t be anything too difficult.” Maki was beginning to doubt the wisdom of the water tank, by late afternoon, it might be chilly. “If anything makes you uncomfortable, we’ll skip it.”

Nico seemed surprised by the concern in Maki’s voice and took a minute to zip the bag back up. Her reply was hesitant, almost deferential. “Nico wants to know how you see this. I can manage whatever you have in mind.”

Maki nodded, digging out more berries, both straw and blue, and skipping on to the next topic in her head, would the chains drape well? And would the linen fabric of Nico’s shirt get caught or dragged?

I Don’t Know Enough About You

The morning had gone fairly well. The Century Universal had proven surprisingly cooperative to work with, as had Nico. Maki was impressed by Nico’s professionalism. There was no flirting, no patter, just some questions about poses and locations, a few smiles for the assistants helping with lighting and props, the initial conversation about the charms of the grounds. Nico hadn’t even blinked when she’d seen the water tank...or the chains. There might have been a sharp glint in the ruby deeps, sparked off the Mapplethorpe jibe Nico swallowed as she twirled handcuffs around her finger, but no actual cutting remark.

“Nothing locks. I made sure. We can test it on me first.” Maki hurried to reassure Nico that she had taken proper safety precautions.

“That’s quite an offer, Maaaki,” Nico dragged out her name with a wink; Maki rolled her eyes and went back to looking for the tripod in the collection of gear they’d had the assistants carry onto the grounds. “I have to get changed and do makeup.” Ignored, Nico put the handcuffs back in their place, “Will you be ready in 20 minutes?”

Maki found the tripod, set it up, and crouched to push at the legs to see how securely it was going to sit.

“Maki?” Nico prodded Maki on the shoulder and the redhead glanced up, not paying full attention, “20 minutes?”

“Sure.” Back to the tripod. Now to check the connections between camera and base. Then Maki could work on sliding in the frames without jostling the camera. What had Nico said?

When Nico returned, in a long black and white gown, hair loosely gathered at the back of her neck to fall gracefully down her back, agile lips a dark pink, sparkling eyes framed by dark lashes, expressive eyebrows raised for comment, cheekbones carved with exquisite and subtle strokes, Maki just stopped, struck by a Nico stripped down to her roots, caught by the stark beauty of Nico’s profile, the pull of the star’s focused glance, the drive and dash that came through with each flicker of a change of expression. Holy fuck, Maki thought, this was what drew moviegoers into the dream realms captured on the screen, this distilled power, this fascination. Maki found herself getting excited, eager to see what a vintage classic could capture of a modern one.

It was relaxing Maki realized, as the shoot progressed, to just be this focused on her camera and her work and trust Nico to be where, what and who she needed. Nico didn’t need coaxing or compliments, if Maki happened to blurt out a genuine appreciation for Nico’s eyes at that angle or the way the star’s smile teased between fire and flirt, Nico barely acknowledged the photographer had spoken. No attention drawn, Maki happily working in a cocoon of obliviousness. Then one of the assistants spoke quickly to Nico, pointing to something on her phone while Maki was making a position change for the camera. They were shooting by the Waterfall and the Grand Stairway, Nico bravely scrambling over rocks for the angles Maki wanted, careful only for her gown.

Nico frowned. “Security says someone is here for you.”

Maki was confused, Eli didn’t even know where they planned to shoot. “Nope. Can’t be. Nobody knows I’m here.”

Nico crossed her arms as Tsubasa Kira appeared at the top of the stairway, in a chic, green crushed velvet suit, waving, her voice echoing, “Maki! You should have told me you were in LA. We could have had dinner last night.”

“Oh, hi, Tsubasa!” Maki stepped out from behind the Century, grimacing apologetically at Nico.

Tsubasa took her time descending the staircase, heading immediately to Maki and sliding her arm through the photographer’s, “Introduce me.” Tsubasa raised an eyebrow at Nico, “Although I know who you are, Nico. Your TWIG feed told me where to find my favorite photographer.”

Tsubasa gleamed at Maki, who shook off her arm, hands going to her pockets. “Tsubasa Kira, Nico Yazawa.”

“I’m a performer as well.” Tsubasa extended a hand to Nico, who watched the action warily before a quick, hard shake.

“I know. Mermaid, right.” Nico gritted, “You’ll enjoy the grotto. It’s damp. There’s a koi pond up there you can dip your fins in.”

“I’m so glad that picture is pulled so often when someone is doing an article about the genius of Maki Nishikino. I’m glad to have been a humble help.” Tsubasa bowed, smiling in Maki’s direction.

Nico snorted and Maki stared at her. Nico winked, causing a blush and a turnaway, then flipped her attention back to Tsubasa, “Yeah, Kendrick’s def rapping about you.”

Tsubasa decided to stop clashing with Nico and check out what Maki was doing. With quick steps she moved to the Century, hands out, curious. Nico leaned against a railing.

“Don’t touch it.” Maki snapped at Tsubasa, who made a big show of leaping back.

“Is it that unsteady?” The singer wondered, unbuttoning her jacket.

Maki bobbed her head back and forth for a few seconds, “You just have to approach it with respect.” She checked the tripod again, and glanced at Nico. “I have to adjust the bellows. Nico, didn’t you need a gown change?”

Nico had her arms crossed and shook her head, “I’m only adding a shawl. Ben can help me.”

“Ok.” Maki started stretching the bellows out, changing the angle of the lens while one of the more eager assistants carefully sorted through the clothes on the hanging rack.

“You really do look 16.” Tsubasa, having taking steps to the left, was now back in Nico range and taking the time for a thorough once over, “No wonder no one takes you seriously.”

Nico bit her lip, Maki thought she saw a fist clench on the side of Nico turned away from the conversation. But Nico’s voice was confident and calm, her shrug exquisite, bare shoulders rolling confidently through disdain and dismissal, “Their mistake.”

Tsubasa glanced back to Maki, “Do you mind if I hang around and watch?”

Maki shook her head, frowning, “We need to catch all the natural light we can. And there’s a few stunts I want Nico to do after this batch of poses, so no, I really don’t have the time for company.”

“We really don’t.” Nico repeated, her tone mild, her pose tolerant.

Tsubasa moved in closer to Maki, reaching to caress the photographer’s forearm, “Maybe we can meet for dinner somewhere with a view of the ocean. I’ve missed your perspective on art and music. I’m finishing a new album.”

Maki stood, hands on her hips, glancing quickly at a very still Nico, still biting her lip, eyes staring off to the side, disinterest too obviously a performance choice to be a clue to Nico’s real thoughts. Maki smiled down at Tsubasa, “Thanks for the visit, Tsubasa. Call me if you’re in Chicago and we can catch dinner and a view of Lake Michigan. My treat.”

Tsubasa tried for delighted at the prospect, but her mood had wilted, “It was good to see you, Maki.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss Maki on the cheek. “I’ll send you concert tickets when I tour the Midwest this February.”

“Thanks.” Maki waved, then went immediately back to her camera, ignoring Nico, who chuckled, waved grandly at Tsubasa, and let Ben hand her the shawl.

“Where do you want me, O Unwerth-y one?”

I’m Beginning To See The Light

Maki was surprised. Somehow a Nico who looked so girly and frilly and perfect in pink was also pulling off a disconcertingly dashing level of ‘wow’ with an undone tie, open at the collar linen shirt, black pants, sable hair falling soft and silky below her shoulders, eyes sharp and shrewd. Then came the shots of Nico bold in a hidden, shadowed archway, chains wrapped around Nico’s arms, neck, and torso. They’d started with locks, arrayed as Houdini usually had them, but leaving them off made for a better visual. Nico easily handled the added weight of the chains as she moved, as if she worked with them every day. Then came the water tank, set up in the late afternoon sun in front of the lower entrance to the Clock Tower, lion guardians vigilant.

It had been a long day and the stretches of silence lengthened. There’d been a quick break for lunch, but Nico had been telling entertaining on set stories to the assistants, keeping them amused while Maki ate enough to fuel her for the rest of the day. She’d been happy with the lighting and the poses from the Garbo part of the shoot, Nico alternating between staring aslant the camera with an almost ethereal intensity to challenging the lens with a winsome, smirky smile. Somehow a fishing rod had been briefly involved, which led to snarl when Maki mistook Nico’s intent, thinking she was going to cast in the direction of the camera. No koi were tempted by the shiny lure.

And then they came to the moment. Nico and Maki, standing practically hip to hip, staring at the tank. Nico subdued.

“He really did it, huh?” Nico stared, watching the water move as a breeze blew over the open tank.

“In two minutes. Hanging upside down from stocks. There were tricks, of course.” Maki stared down at Nico, who was still watching the water.

“So I go in, float for a minute to give you time to take that picture and change out the negative, and then drop the chains and push myself out of the water while you take that picture with every camera you have.”

“Exactly.” Maki thought she might have sounded nervous, while Nico just seemed as calm as if she were asking about their dinner plans.

Nico smiled, “You asked for it.” Big inhale, “Take a great picture or Nico will never forgive you.”

Maki nodded, her hand resting briefly on Nico’s shoulder. Nico climbed the step ladder, letting two of the assistants help her reposition the chains and place her in the handcuffs, which were designed, as the shackles for her feet were, to break apart when Nico tugged. Nico sat on the edge of the square, six foot high tank, her feet in the water. Maki was starting to feel a bit dizzy and then she remembered breathing. Nico would have to hold her breath, Maki would have to manage her cameras as best and rapidly as she ever had.

Nico’s eyes, wide and worried, caught her, through the camera, as Maki, dark cloth over her head, focused the cocked lens, and prepared to slide in the film holder and press the cable release. Maki stepped back, letting the fabric fall.

“You okay, Nico? We don’t have to do this.” Maki knelt to check the timer on her digital set up; it would take a flurry of photos once she hit go. No time like now. Maki took a deep breath. Go.

“Nico never disappoints a lady.” Nico winked and blew a kiss that the camera managed to catch.

“Noted.” Maki walked over to the tank, eyes serious, “I’ll give you a signal and once you drop in, I’ll take the pic, then I’ll need about 20 seconds to switch out the film frame. I’ll have to recock the lens. The digital camera will be taking pics the whole time. If you’re having trouble, knock on the tank and we’ll pull you out.”

“Got it.” Nico gave two thumbs up, carefully tilting the handcuffs. Maki thought she caught a shiver. Nico had had her lower legs in the water for a few minutes. Maki racewalked back to the camera, doublechecked the lens, positioned the film frame, and draped the fabric over her head again. As she grabbed the cable release, she shouted, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

Nico dropped into the tank, bending her knees as she hit the bottom, hair and tie buoyant in the water. She stared straight at the camera, determination flaring in her eyes as she yanked apart her bonds, and started to slip out of the chains. Maki took the shot, slide the shutter back in, ripped out the holder and replaced it, raising her hand as a signal. Nico dropped to the bottom again, water and motion distorting her slightly, bent her knees and sprang to the top, arms catching the front of the tank, wiry muscles taut, linen shirt half open and see through and sliding off her shoulders and torso, eyes flaming and defiant, her gaze blasting through the camera to Maki, daring Maki to make a choice as bold as this, shirt plastered against every shivery, exquisite detail of...Maki pulled the shutter open, clicked the release and tried to keep breathing, stunned by the raw energy of this wild, unfiltered moment.

A shaking Nico, shrunken, changed into her own clothes but still drenched, wrapped loosely in a blanket watched from a camping chair as Maki treated the film she was locking away in a light proof case as gently as if it were a kitten. Maki noticed the scrutiny and smiled gently at Nico. “Are you cold?”

“Duh.” Nico sniggered, trying not to cough.

“We’d better warm you up.” Maki reached into her duffle and grabbed her hoodie, wrapping it around Nico as she pulled the smaller woman to her feet. Maki was proud of herself. Her voice didn’t quaver, her hand didn’t shake, and she met Nico’s glance as if there weren’t seismic shocks shuddering through her at what the water had revealed about both of them. Maki did let concern warm her tone and her hands lingered on Nico’s shoulders, settling the hoodie. “They’re nearly finished loading. The tank’ll get picked up tomorrow. Let’s go you find something warm to drink.”

Maki couldn’t sleep. After they got back to the hotel, Nico, with a half hearted jokes about ‘Maki getting Nico so wet,’ had collapsed in her own bed.. Maki had stayed on the couch, transferring digital files from her cameras to her laptop. She wasn’t going to sleep. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ‘til exhaustion overtook the images racing through her mind, reacting with her body. Nico’s appeal, Nico’s strength, Nico’s drive...she’d seen them in their most primitive form today, as much of a shock as when Nico had come out of the water, and Maki realized the tiny...temptation had chosen to leave off the tank top, nipples dark and pressing through the transparent linen, breasts small but...Maki groaned. She had it all on film and filed away digitally, not to mention the indelible images now etched in her mind, right next to the audio of Nico saying “no, Nico is not trying to date or drive you.” Maki wondered how fine the details would be when she saw the exposed film, how much cropping would she need to do, did Nico realize that would happen? Maki closed her eyes, massaging her scalp, knees drawn up to her chest. What could she possibly say to Nico in the morning? How could she possibly sleep when Venus rising from the sea had been replaced with Nico rising from the tank. And did that final shot look as good as Maki hoped it did? She was terrible, truly terrible at suspense. It was another reason she preferred digital photography. Instant gratification. You always knew right away if things turned out the way you planned.

Eli. Maki picked up her phone, and hit “Call.” Eli answered.

“FInd me a darkroom.” Maki demanded, “I’m in LA.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Call someone. Get me a darkroom. I have to know.”

“Maki, what’s goi…” Eli paused, probably reminding herself of Maki’s inarticulateness in the face of inspiration, “You’ll tell me later.”

“Just get me…”

“A darkroom.” Eli sighed. “I’ll call you as soon as I know. Remember to eat.”

Eli knew better than to urge sleep. Now to leave Nico a note. Then head to the darkroom and end the suspense. And avoid an awkward flight home where Maki was too self conscious to look Nico in the eye.

A/N: Howdy. Jazz is still taking over my brain. Much thanks to my buddy @KristynBurtt (and her autocorrect) for the "hideous Houdini mansion" inspiration. If you're interested in dance and/or entertainment news, she's a great resource.Hope this finds you well. Now for lunch and Casual Lunacy progress. Take care!

[moiraineswife]

Autistic Jasnah

Okay, but autistic!jasnah is is important to me.

 (apart from being like...super likely. Jasnah has poor social skills, special interests in her research projects, black and white thinking, comes off as emotionless/very withdrawn, very logical patterns of thinking and reasoning, and she’s related to Renarin as well, who is autistic in canon, making it more likely she is as well, since there appears to be some kind of genetic link with autism)   

But it’s also important because: we definitely, definitely need more lady autistics in fiction.  

We definitely need more older/adult autistics represented in fiction. 

We definitely need more nuanced, flawed, complex autistic characters. 

She’s effectively an autistic superhero. Can we take a moment to appreciate how fucking badass that is? Okay. Thanks. 

But her being autistic presents another wonderful opportunity: autistic representation where more than one autistic character is actually presented, and there are two autistic characters who actually, like, interact with one another. What a concept. 

But also, like....the possibilities with Jasnah and young!Renarin. (IF Jasnah is the only other autistic Kholin...and I’d, like, aggressively volunteer Navani as another, but, for the purpose of this hc, I won’t be greedy atm)  

But, okay, Jasnah interacting with little!Renarin and everyone else is...a little bit....unsure of what to do with him, to put it frankly. He’s SO unlike Adolin, boisterous and loud, and constantly giggling at everything, and talking non-stop. Renarin is quiet, and withdrawn, and doesn’t seem particularly interested in playing with, or in the same ways, his brother does. 

Adolin is a good brother, even at that age, and he tries to include Renarin, share his toys with him, let him join in on his games, and introduce him to other kids to play with. But it’s pretty obvious pretty quickly that Renarin is just like nopenopenopenopenope not here for this, and Adolin, who is a considerate soul, even at a young age, lets him sit by himself somewhere quiet, and peaceful, with a few little toys Adolin doesn’t really understand as being fun (little puzzles and cubes and boxes, and stones that are shiny and smooth and feel nice, that can also be Organised) because it seems to make his brother happy. 

He does feel quite bad, though, because even though Renarin is happy, he worries that he’s excluding him. So he has words with Aunt Jasnah because something in his smol, wise brain informs him she’s the one to talk to. She’s like a giant lady version of Renarin, he gets the same Vibes from them. 

Jasnah is a little startled that she’s being sought out to provide this advice. But after about 0.5 seconds of Adolin talking she’s...Pretty sure she understands what’s going on. 

She gets up and goes to Renarin who is, as is his wont, huddled in a little corner somewhere chilling and spends about....a minute with him and then she just...Knows. She knows that this little dude is like her. And she smiles, because she can help him. 

First off, she takes Adolin aside, and she talks to him. He’s pretty young at this point, and she’s not very good at watering things down for kids, but he understands it’s important, and does his best, and understands most things. She explains about autism, what it is, just the basics, really. And then she explains to him that she is autistic, which he knows, in the sense that someone has said the words ‘Jasnah is autistic’ to him before, but he’s never really understood. So she explains. 

Adolin’s eyes widen and before Jasnah has said it, he’s put two and two together and is asking in a soft, hushed voice, if Renarin is autistic took. Jasnah smiles at him. She tells him that yes, she suspects that he is. Adolin asks lots and lots of questions, which Jasnah answers. He wants to know how he can help his brother, and how he can make him happy and safe and comfortable.

 Jasnah explains about not overwhelming him with his friends, even though she knows he wants him to feel included, he has to let him decide for himself if that’s what he wants. Same with playing with his brother vs playing on his own. She explains about meltdowns, and shutdowns, being non, or semi-verbal, and stimming. 

Adolin absorbs it all like a very eager, dutiful little sponge, and she sends him on his way. (He definitely comes home one day with like...a million stim toys he’s gotten for Renarin to try. He definitely gave him the box he has in canon, it’s his favourite and he loves it. Adolin is v proud) 

As Renarin gets older, and becomes more aware of his autism, and his differences, he gravitates naturally towards Jasnah. There’s an understanding between them. Even though they’re obviously different people, they have this one central similarity that builds this little foundation between them, and they get quite close. 

Jasnah is obviously quite a few years older than Renarin is, and has various tried and tested methods of dealing with things, coping mechanisms, and helps him spot sensory issues, as well as providing scripts for dealing with social encounters.

 Oh, and they definitely, definitely talk to each other about their special interests.

 Renarin is someone Jasnah can ALWAYS tell all of the details about her research too (because he understands that all of the details are important to know, and that none can be missed out, in case it was vital, even when everyone else insists that a good 60% of what she’s saying is ‘unnecessary’ Renarin gets it) 

And Renarin does the same thing with her. Seeks her out whenever he’s discovered something new about his current special interest and just Has to tell someone all about it, and of course she patiently listens to him. And definitely gives him the tools to further research it efficiently and accurately. 

Renarin will also seek Jasnah out when he’s non-verbal. Even though Dalinar and Adolin sort of understand, or at least recognise what’s happening, and both refuse to push him into talking...He just feels more comfortable with Jasnah. Because she Understands, in a way that the others just can’t. 

I JUST. 

LET ME HAVE JASNAH AS AN OLDER AUTISTIC TAKING SMOL!AUTISTIC RENARIN UNDER HER WING AND HELPING HIM NAVIGATE AND UNDERSTAND THEIR WORLD IN A POSITIVE, PRODUCTIVE WAY. PLEASE.  I have a lot of feelings abt this. 

[straane]

tidus/yuna post x-2 headcanons vol.2

pt. 1   

pt. 3

- previously on keeping up with the besaidians: Gippal plays pranks on Tidus . so anyway. Gippal's respect for Tidus and general opinion on the guy improves tenfold when he finds out he's at least somewhat handy with machina (having grown up in the machina city of Zanarkand). kinda like not every one of us is a computer technician but say we were suddenly whisked into a foreign world with basic technology only recently legalized and a general majority of population afraid to use it – we'd have something to contribute. (also this is canonically plausible – see the machina boss battle on the Al Bhed ship in Luca, where Tidus saves the day by pointing out that they can utilize the crane) like I don't see Gippal offering him a job with the Machine Faction anytime soon, more like Tidus travels with Yuna and sometimes they visit Djose and he'll notice something the workers missed (like in some ‘new’ type of machina freshly salvaged from the bottom of the ocean) or maybe even casually fixes something that's everyday in Zanarkand. (Tidus also knows like anyone who's dealt with a computer ever that sometimes they just need a good keyboard-smash. also see proof in canon.) 

- Gippal's opinion on Tidus improves hundredfold when he, through small details and tidbits Rikku/Cid/....Brother I guess just kinda casually mention, finds out about his history with them and other Al Bhed starting with his very first day in Spira and how he always defended them and treated them like everyone else (of course there's the fact that he was not brought up a Yevonite and thus never brainwashed to hate them but idk if Gippal cares about nuance all that much. but this is one thing that technically earns Lulu the greater credit! altho they shoulda just told wakka about yuna from the very beginning argh)

- also remind me to draw Gippal & Tidus unlikely brotp/teamup art

- let's talk kids. first I gotta acknowledge @leviathkandy ‘s absolutely amazing  headcanon that they might adopt, bc for some reason that never crossed my mind and it's so perfect actually!!! I could very well see some kids orphaned by Sin just kinda starting to hang around them in Besaid (like that cockblocking kid at the campfire that a certain legendary lady obviously sent Yuna's way EXCEPT BETTER. that’s right BETTER. BETTER KIDS.) or maybe they even pick one up on their various travels buuuut point is I could see it happening kinda in a half-accidental/organic fashion? and then developing into a Cloud/Tifa in AC sort of situation without the leaving and terminal illness and angst (sry Cloud you hang in there-bud) 

-  also here 's some highly hypothetical biological Tuna offspring I drew up 

- (in any case all their 25 kids grow up to be amazing and nothing bad ever happens in their lives ever. they always in every situation heed their flawless parents' spot-on advice and respect and adore them 124,7% 24/7. tidus and yuna never age yet grow wiser every-year-and-also-nothing-bad-ever-happens-to-them-either. the end-except-not-bc-they-never-die

- OKAY fine. they do get older. and this silly doodle aside...I kinda see them both retaining their youthful spirits but perhaps in slightly different ways. Tidus of course keeps active well, well beyond middle age and even tho that certainly keeps him vigorous in body & soul, he kinda has a hard time dealing with the inevitable effects of aging and from time to time ends up hurting himself due to constant gross overestimation of his physical condition & capability (I feel like I'm again heavily influenced by if not straight-up copying @leviathkand's  post here BUT IT'S TOO REAL THO). whenever this happens, somehow, inexplicably, defying all laws of physics and likelihood Lulu of all people is always there (while Yuna is always far off somewhere, also bafflingly and against all odds). and so the task of providing first aid (= healing incantations... and sometimes just a bandaid/good scolding) falls on her begrudging shoulders. the pattern repeats so often is sorta becomes a running gag between the Besaid gang (except when he gets seriously injured, which happens a couple of times, then no one jokes around except Tidus) also, imagine middle-aged/elderly Lulu. just imagine. if u dare lol.  

- Yuna, growing into adulthood, after that teen rebel phase important character development sooorta mellows back into her X personality with added wisdom and outspokenness and attention to her own needs. what I mean with "mellowing" is going back to a more poised and... sophisticated presence, I guess? I feel like I'm wording this all wrong, but yeah. basically a combo of her X and X-2 personas, best of both worlds adsdsaf. however when she's pushing 80-90 she regresses (or evolves???) riiiight back to her spherehunter days and starts spouting stuff like "your plan sucks and so does your face" and "oh poopie" while still somehow being the most elegant and well-spoken woman in the whole wide Spira. 

- aaand back to their young and hot selves. there's lots of theories going around about Tidus's identity and origins because of course there would be. literally a nobody out of frekking nowhere who’s somehow both former guardian and s.o. to their beloved High Summoner and a stellar blitzball player to boot? missing for a while? weirdly clueless about mundane everyday stuff yet comfortable with machina? (he’s a sheltered Bikanel-native Al Bhed obvi) some people of course remember him from the pilgrimage but like, did anyone actually pay attention to him back then lol. of course Tidus & Yuna can't just go public with the truth because the story is as bizarre as it is tragic and highly personal to them in many ways too, so they both kinda dance around the subject and make punny inside jokes under their breath that sometimes get quoted as actual answers and the speculation gets wilder. 

- however once it comes out that he's actually Sir Jecht's son (idk why I feel either Cid or Brother would let it slip. or maybe Brother is just anonymously calling up tabloids out of jealousy lol)  everybody just EXPLODES and forgets about everything else. the power couple's popularity instantly climbs to an all-time high, and it’s all anyone talks about for a good few months and then some. howeverrr Tidus is less than pleased. he may have made his peace with Jecht but is still not quite over the man’s former monstrous alter ego and all the suffering he brought upon Spira (if unwillingly). again, their real story is in large part simply too traumatic and too intimate to share

- they totally re-enacted the laughing scene. you know they did. (obviously on that very same balcony in luca) it was an embarrassing failure tho, as they almost immediately started laughing for real and nobody even batted an eye or noticed anything unusual given that not a day passes by that the two don't have at least one shared giggle fit (and at really random stuff too, like the wind when it's nice) also, they were about 50 when this took place. for the 15th time.