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pedroscurls · 10 days

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secret crushes (one-shot)

summary: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 4.5k warnings: this is complete filth bc how can you not look at that first photo and just be fine??? anyway - porn with little plot, unprotected p in v, public beach sex, seated cowgirl, oral - m receiving, light dirty talk, no use of y/n. a/n: this is for the anon who requested this spicy idea! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it. i haven't opened up my requests since 2017 (i think), but ya know, that might change after this lol. i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.

“All expenses paid,” you hear Ryan say over the phone. “You deserve a vacation. Even Blake agrees.”

“Ryan, no,” you protest, beginning to clean up your small coffee shop for the day. When you opened your own coffee shop so many years ago, you didn’t expect that not only would it be great business, but that you’d be very close friends with Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman.

“Oh, come on!” he says. “When was the last time you took time for yourself, hm?”

There’s a silence that engulfs the two of you.

Before you can even speak, Ryan chimes in. “Exactly. You’ll have your own hotel room. You don’t have to spend the entire trip with us, though, we will be hurt if you don’t hang out with us, and–” he teases.

“Okay, fine! Fine,” you huff. “I’m sure after Deadpool & Wolverine, you need some time for you and your family too.”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “I feel like I can be a good dad now.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve always been a good dad.”

“Eh,” he chuckles. “So, we’ll see you at the airport this weekend?”

“Sure.”

“Actually, we’re going to pick you up.” Ryan decides. “That way, I know for sure you’ll be coming with us.”

“God, you’re annoying!” you laugh. “Fine. I’ll see you and the family this Friday night. After I close up.”

“No, no. We’re leaving in the morning. Your coffee shop will be fine.”

“I know, it’s just–” you sigh, resting the phone between your ear and shoulder as you rearrange the bags of coffee on the display. Your mind drifts momentarily when you see the Laughing Man coffee beans, thinking about Hugh. “Nevermind.”

“You think too much,” Ryan points out then his voice turns serious for a moment. “You’ll be okay. Your shop will be okay. In the time we’ve known you – Hugh and I – you’ve always been working, busting your ass.”

“I know,” you then move your gaze to the amount of photographs on your wall behind the counter. They are photographs that you’ve taken, candid ones of your employees, landscape portraits of the trips you’ve taken to find the best coffee beans, even personal photos of you and your family and friends, including Hugh, Ryan, and Blake.

“So…” he says. “Pick you up Friday morning?”

“Yes, Ryan. You can pick me up Friday morning. You’re very convincing, do you know that? You just never quit until you get your way.”

“What can I say? I’m very persuasive.” He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll see you Friday. Have a good rest of your week. Call me if you need anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you and Hugh before then,” you tease. “At this rate, all this free coffee I give you does amount to a free trip.”

“Exactly! Talk to you later.”

—

You hadn’t spoken to Hugh in weeks, knowing that he and Ryan had been doing constant press conferences and interviews after Deadpool & Wolverine came out. You’d never admit it to either of them, but you did go out to watch the movie and it only fueled the crush that you had on Hugh. Especially that final scene. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t go home that night with thoughts filled of him. Shirtless and glistening. It was rather inappropriate, really. Not only did you and Hugh start out as friends, but you also had a partnership with him where he sells his brand of coffee at your coffee shop and takes a cut of what the sales make. It’s worked for years now and you never really looked at him in a way that was more than a friend or partner. You knew he was good looking, so sweet and funny, but it wasn’t until months after his divorce that you started to look at him differently. You had to wonder if he looked at you the same way because you started to notice how often he would come by when you were closing up to help you clean, or how his gaze on you would linger, his touches seemingly becoming more and more less friendly and more intimate.

You’re already on the plane with Ryan, Blake, and the rest of their family. It never felt like you were the odd one out. Both Ryan and Blake always made you feel like you were part of their family. There were plenty of times where you and Hugh would babysit Ryan and Blake’s children while they were busy and always, they’d ask for Uncle Hugh to sing songs from The Greatest Showman. You were always right there next to him, singing and performing alongside him to entertain the kids.

When you moved to New York, it was a big leap of faith. It wasn’t always easy, but Hugh, Ryan, and Blake made you feel less alone when there were times you weren’t sure you were ever going to make it out here. Now, you can’t even think of leaving New York. It has become your home. These people… They have become your family.

You look up from your notebook to see Blake and Ryan staring at you, both with big grins on their faces. You can tell they were hiding something, so you shut your notebook and point at them.

“Okay, spill.”

Ryan feigns a gasp, palms raising up in surrender. “Can’t my beautiful wife and I stare at you lovingly?”

Blake lets out a quiet laugh and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re both really bad liars,” you point out. “What is it? Why are you both smiling at me like that?”

“We’re just happy that you’re finally taking some time to yourself,” Blake replies, moving to sit next to you.

“You’re much more convincing than your husband,” you say loud enough for Ryan to hear.

“I take offense to that,” Ryan says.

Blake turns to you and looks down at your notebook, tilting her head in amusement. “Even away from your coffee shop, all you can think about is how to improve it. Don’t you ever stop working?”

“Never,” you laugh, opening your notebook for her to look through. “Fall is right around the corner, so I’m just thinking of a few specialty drinks that I can introduce for a limited time. I hear pumpkin spice is very popular.”

You and Blake stare at each other and then erupt into a fit of laughter, both of you shaking your heads. “Can you promise me one thing on this trip?” she asks.

“I can try.”

“Try to have some fun, don’t think so much about work. It’ll be there when you get back. We’re in Hawaii for two weeks. Just–” Blake shrugs. “Be open and let loose.”

You arch an eyebrow. “I feel like there’s a hidden meaning there somewhere.”

“Oh, there is!” Ryan nods, a grin lining his lips. “Or is there?”

“The both of you,” you shake your head. “Are ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you love us,” Blake grins.

“Unfortunately,” you tease. “But okay, I’ll do my best. No work. No thinking about work. I’ll try and focus on being in the present.”

“Maybe you can meditate,” Ryan calls out. “You know, Hugh swears by it.”

Hugh. The mere mention of his name makes your heart flutter and you subconsciously bite your lower lip. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Blake who tries to bite back a smile.

“Yeah, maybe.” You stand up and then motion towards the bathroom, excusing yourself from both Blake, Ryan, and their kids.

Blake then turns to Ryan and grins. She whispers very quietly. “I think it’s going to work.”

“I sure hope so. Neither of them have any clue what we’re trying to do.”

“You’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. They’re the only ones who haven’t seen it,” Blake says.

“Oh, Hugh’s seen it,” Ryan winks.

Blake chuckles. “Well, let’s see how this trip goes.”

“If it all goes well, they’ll be leaving together,” Ryan replies.

—

You’ve been in Hawaii for three days now. You’ve possibly spent every moment with Ryan and his family since arriving. You didn’t mind though. Being in their company helped keep your mind away from work, away from the responsibilities that await you at home, away from Hugh. Today, though, Ryan and Blake want to spend the day at a secluded beach to allow their kids to roam free and have fun without worrying about possible paparazzi.

You look at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a deep blue bikini set – a halter triangle top tied at the base of your neck and back, and a cheeky bottom with side ties that rest on the side of your hips – with a white, long sleeve cover-up. You take a few pictures of yourself, wanting to send it to Hugh or even post it on social media, but you don’t. Instead, you turn off your phone and set it inside your bag before you leave your room to meet Ryan and the family.

Throughout the entire ride to the island, Ryan and Blake can’t keep their eyes off of you. You busy yourself, though, with playing with their kids, hearing their laughter fill the car. You can tell they’re excited, jumping up and down in their seats as they talk amongst one another about the things they’ll do once they get to the beach.

It isn’t until you all arrive at the beach and climb out that you notice another car in the lot. Ryan had mentioned before that it would just be his family and you, so you had to wonder if maybe he had gotten something wrong along the way of planning this. But if you were concerned about it, he certainly didn’t show it himself. Instead, he climbs out of the car and grabs the kids’ bags from the trunk before he and Blake motion for you to follow them onto the beach. Your toes hit the sand as you slide your sunglasses on your face. You tell Ryan and Blake that you’ll be at a distance, allowing them at least some time to spend with their kids without you and it gives you enough time to try and meditate. Maybe it will work, you tell yourself.

You don’t see anyone else nearby and you’re at a good distance from Ryan and Blake, so you set down your towel and bag, removing your cover-up and sunglasses. You make sure to reapply more sunscreen before you walk towards the water. It’s cold and it causes a shiver to run down your spine, so you force yourself to dive in to get acclimated to the temperature of the water.

The beach had always calmed you down, kept you grounded. It was one of the reasons why you had been so hesitant to leave your hometown of California. From one side of the coast to another. Once you come back up, you run your hands through your wet hair, slicking it back away from your face as you stand, the water only reaching your upper thighs. When you open your eyes, though, your jaw drops.

Hugh is within a few arms reach as his eyes meet yours. The surprise look on his face tells you all that you need to know.

He had no idea you would be here.

And neither did you.

You can’t help but let your eyes take in his frame. His broad chest, water trickling down his frame, disappearing into the waistband of his black board shorts. He’s pulling his shorts up just a bit, but it gives you a good view of the v-cut he has and immediately, you’re aware of the feeling between your legs.

But just like you’re checking him out, Hugh’s also allowing his eyes to roam over your frame. The bikini you’re wearing is so tiny and tight around your frame. He tries to tell himself not to get excited at the mere sight of you, but it’s hard. He’s getting hard, so he does his best to think of other things that could lessen his excitement.

Since his divorce, Hugh had taken comfort in your presence. What started out as a friendship turned partnership had blossomed into something else. Surely, you felt it too. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hello, you,” he calls out.

The both of you begin walking towards each other, meeting in the middle as the waves crash around you.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say softly. Out of instinct, you reach out to give him a hug, warms snaking around his shoulders. This feels good, hugging him like this feels fucking great. You feel his hard chest and hair against you. He’s so wet, so slick and you just want to–

“I think Ryan may have forgotten to tell us both,” Hugh says, voice deep and husky against your ear as his arms wrap around your waist. Hugh shuts his eyes as he feels your breasts against him, his fingertips resting just above your backside and he feels his manhood stir awake.

Quickly, Hugh pulls away, slowly lowering himself in the water to cover the growing erection between his legs and also to keep some distance between your bodies. You do the same, swimming further into the water as you both continue to float.

“And Blake,” you add. “You think it was intentional? You ask, turning to look over your shoulder to see both Ryan and Blake staring at the both of you.

Hugh looks over at them and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Dunno,” he answers. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you blush, heat rising in your cheeks. “How long– How long have you been here?”

“Three days.”

“Those fuckers,” you chuckle. “They totally set this up.”

Hugh laughs alongside you and tilts his head in amusement. He watches you closely, seeing you gnaw at your lower lip nervously (it’s something he’s noticed about you very early on). You bring your hand up to stroke your hair back away from your face and Hugh can’t help but smile to himself. He likes you. Really likes you and he knows that he shouldn’t act on it, knows that there should be some boundary, but he can’t help himself.

“You nervous?” he asks quietly.

“What?” you answer, looking up at him. “No…”

“You’re doin’ that thing you do,” Hugh points out. He gently reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, causing you to release it between your teeth.

“What thing?”

“You know what thing,” he chuckles, slowly swimming closer to you. “You bite your lower lip a lot when you get nervous or when you’re deep in thought. So, you’re either nervous or you’re thinkin’ about somethin’. Which is it?”

“Neither,” you lie.

Hugh narrows his eyes slowly and drags his thumb at the center of your lower lip and down to your chin until he hooks it in his grasp. “Now, I know you’re not someone who lies,” he begins, moving his thumb across your jawline. “Don’t tell me you’re lying now.”

“I’m both,” you blurt out, leaning against his touch. “I’m nervous and I’m thinking about something.”

“You’re always thinking about something,” Hugh points out. “Do I…” he asks hesitantly and drops his hand back into the water. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Right now you are.”

“Why?”

“Because…” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes. “One, we’re both basically half naked.”

“We’re at a beach,” he says with a small smile. “We’re in our bathing suits.”

“Half naked,” you correct. “And two, you’re just–” you stop yourself and drop your eyes to his lips then back up to gaze into his eyes. You then remember what Blake told you. Try to have some fun. Be open. Let loose. Now, you understand exactly what she meant by that. So, you let out a shaky breath and continue. “You’re just so fucking hot, Hugh, and yes, you’re making me nervous because you’re literally shirtless and wet, and you’re muscular and it’s just–”

Hugh’s laughter interrupts your rambling. You notice the way his nose crinkles upwards when the laughter comes deep within the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you’re very aware that you just made a fool out of yourself and you gently shove him.

“It’s not funny! You asked and so I told you. I was being honest!”

“I’m not–” he sighs, his laughter dying down. “I’m not laughing at you, baby.” The term slips past his lips so effortlessly and he reaches out from underneath the water to grab a hold of your hip, pulling you to him. “I’m laughing because you think I’m hot to a point that you’re stuttering over your words. Have you seen yourself?” The smile remains on his lips and his thumb begins to rub circles at your hip. “Because if anyone should be nervous, it’s me.”

“You?”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that I’ve got the biggest crush on ya.”

“Wait, you what?” your eyes slightly widen in surprise, but you can’t help the way your stomach flips in excitement.

“I’ve got a crush on ya,” he whispers. “And I shouldn’t even be having crushes at this age,” Hugh chuckles nervously. “But I do. I like you.”

“You’re not joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because you can have literally anyone you want and–”

“I want you.” Hugh says, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “Do you want me to?”

“More than you fucking know, Hugh.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips against him. You sigh against him moving your legs to wrap around his waist underneath the water as you move your lips against his own.

Hugh growls against you, both hands moving to your hips as he leans further into you, tilting his head to get a better angle of your lips. He didn’t realize this was how his trip was going to go. After Ryan convinced him to take some time off, especially after the success of their movie together, he was hesitant. He didn’t want to take time off. He was used to being busy, especially after his divorce, but Hugh had only agreed to come on the trip to figure out his feelings for you.

He just didn’t realize that you’d be here too.

In the distance, you and Hugh can hear a faint clapping and hollering. You both pull away to look over at the noise and see Blake, Ryan, and their kids jump up in excitement, cheering for the both of you. You see them wave in your direction before they begin to grab their things, making their way back to the parking lot. You then look at Hugh and gaze into his eyes.

“Are they leaving us? Leaving me?” You ask.

“I can take you back,” Hugh says softly.

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Only if it isn’t–”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if our hotel rooms are right next to each other,” Hugh chuckles, slowly then moving his hands down as he grasps your backside in his large hands, pulling you flush against him. His gaze darkens as he stares into your eyes. He thinks maybe he might have moved too fast, but when you roll your hips against him, he knows exactly what’s going to happen next.

You want him just as bad as he does.

“Hugh,” you whisper, voice laced with desire. “Please.”

“Tell me, baby.”

“I need you.” You bury your face in the side of his neck and gently nip at his skin, feeling his hands move under you, his long fingers brushing against your core as it causes you to gasp.

Hugh’s painfully hard against his board shorts and he lets out a low groan when he feels your teeth scrape against the skin at his neck. He feels you squirming against him, moaning into his ear and he has to pull away briefly to look into your eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“If I have to say please one more time…”

“I don’t mind hearin’ you beg,” he winks. “Come on.” Hugh leads you out of the water and towards his towel in a much more secluded area. You drift from him for a moment to grab your things before following him, watching him lay out his towel before he takes a seat on it, legs spread wide.

You bite your lower lip and lay out your towel in front of him, dropping to your knees as you crawl towards him until you're seated on your knees between his legs. “We won’t get in trouble, will we?”

Hugh shrugs, reaching down to cup your cheek. “Don’t think so. Ryan made sure that no one but us should be here and–”

“That’s good enough for me.” You lean down and move your hands to the waistband of his board shorts. He’s dripping wet from the water and you can see the outline of his length perfectly due to his shorts sticking to him. You hook your fingers into the waistband and slowly pull it down enough to see his length spring free. Hugh lets out a low groan of relief and reaches behind you to undo the knot at the base of your neck. Once loose, he watches your top fall open to reveal your breasts. He doesn’t have enough time to take in your newly exposed chest because your hand wraps around his base, soft lips grazing the head of his manhood.

“Ah, baby,” he growls, moving a hand to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as your mouth wraps around his tip. Hugh shuts his eyes and tosses his head back, moving one hand to rest on the towel while the other remains on your shoulder.

You look up at him, feeling an immediate possessiveness wash over you. He looks so beautiful like this, eyes shut, chest heaving, and at your mercy.

You begin to stroke his base as your tongue swirls around his tip, lapping at his precum. His groans slowly become louder as you lower your head to take more of him, stroking his base when you realize you can’t take him whole. He’s larger than you expected, girthy and long, and it excites you. As you continue to stroke him in time with sucking his length, you feel Hugh’s hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head as his hips slightly lift itself. He pushes himself further into your mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes opening to look down at you. God, Hugh can just come at the sight of you. Tears slightly stinging the corners of your eyes and your mouth stuffed full of him. What a beautiful fucking sight, he thinks.

Slowly, Hugh has to pull away from you because he feels the pit of his stomach tightening, searching for release. He lets out a low growl that reverberates through his chest and you lean up on your knees, licking your lips. Hugh reaches out for you and pulls you on his lap, hurriedly moving your bikini bottom to the side. He grasps his manhood and runs his tip along your length, feeling your wetness coat him with each movement.

“You’re wet for me?” he asks, eyes staring up at you.

“Only for you.” you reply, eyes fluttering as you feel his tip slowly push into you. He releases his hold on his length and rests his hand on your hip, leaning down to press soft kisses against your chest before he moves onto a breast, flicking his tongue against your nipple repeatedly before he wraps his lips around it.

You let out a loud moan, moving your hands to his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your walls tight and wet sliding down his cock. You feel so full of him and he’s not yet fully in the hilt. The stretch is almost painful, but you’re so wet and throbbing that you have to stop yourself from slamming down onto him.

“Oh god, Hugh,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders as you move along his length, not yet allowing him to fill you to the hilt as your walls begin to make way for him.

Hugh moves his lips to your other breast, eyes staring up at you. He wants more of you, needs more of you so he slowly lifts his hips, inching further within your depths.

“Shit,” he groans, watching as his cock disappears into you completely. Hugh’s hands rest over your hips as you pull him closer to you, chests pressed against one another as you slowly roll your hips against his. “So fucking tight, baby,” he whispers against you, forehead resting on yours.

“You’re–” you gasp, feeling his hair at the base brush against your clit as you continue your movements. “So big,” you moan, eyes falling shut.

Hugh gently pecks your lips and takes a hold of your hips to guide you along his length. He watches you reach for his cowboy hat, placing it on top of your head and Hugh has to force himself to hold back his release.

“You’re so hot,” he moans, allowing you to take control of your movements. Hugh can’t help the way your walls tighten around his cock – you’re so warm and wet, so inviting and tight. He knows he’s close, but he can’t– he can’t finish without you finishing first.

“Baby,” Hugh whimpers, holding you flush against him in a tight grip. “Don’t– Fuck, baby, don’t move.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, hands moving to link at the base of his neck. “You can come, Hugh.”

“No,” he shakes his head, losing his resolve as your hips move forward and backward slowly. “You have to be first– Shit…”

“This won’t be the only time,” you say reassuringly, lightly pecking his lips. You then increase your movements, hips moving forward and backward at a faster pace. Hugh’s so deep in this position and you know you’re close, but you’re determined to have Hugh finish before you.

“Sweetheart,” Hugh grunts. “Baby, I’m–” His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a loud groan, mouth slightly agape as his fingertips dig almost painfully into your hips. His release shoots inside of you, painting your walls as his manhood throbs within your depths.

He’s still half hard and you take this moment to begin bouncing along his length, using your hand to reach down between you to rub your clit and Hugh’s eyes narrow. He pushes your hand away and rubs your clit with his thumb in a circular motion.

Hugh feels possessive and almost animalistic at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. He can feel your walls begin to tremble and he’s still a bit sensitive, but you just feel so fucking good.

“Come on, baby,” he coos, applying pressure to your clit. “I know you’re there. Come for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all it took. Your walls tighten around his length as your body trembles against him. Hugh moves his hand to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning up to press his lips against yours. He’s still inside of you, his length softening as the moment passes.

You move your lips lazily against his, heavy breaths passing through the both of you as Hugh pulls back slowly. “Wanna head back to the hotel?” he grins.

“Oh, hell yeah.”

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfic #real person fanfiction #real person fanfic #real person fiction #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x f!reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman oneshot #hugh jackman one shot

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octuscle · 1 year

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Being a photographer is awesome! I work around the world with a lot of people - some of them are famous, most of them are not. But it's my mission to let them shine like stars. Well in my past I had the chance to become a model myself but I wasn't enough self-confident to say yes. I chose the place behind the camera and not infront of it. Looking back I sometimes ask myself 'what if...'. It's silly because I'm not unhappy but there is this curiosity. So I'd like to try the Chronivac Programm changing the past and the present. Please activate it

I'd like to try something out there. An Instagram add-in that I made. Post a selfie of yourself. Then with each comment from you, the next younger picture also changes to a portrait of you. And with every new follower you live on the pictures and also in real life already one day longer not the life of the photographer. But the life of a model. And you yourself become one day younger. I'll start with a comment of your selfie. "Dude, great pic! Who will you be in front of the camera for next time?" And at the same moment, your last picture turns into a shot of you on the beach.

It's still pretty early in the morning in Paris. Nevertheless, the first comments and likes come in pretty quickly. I have limited the activity of the add-in to twelve hours at first. No idea what will happen in that time. First of all, you don't notice anything yet. Off to the shower. But when you're done, your bathroom has already changed quite a bit. A veritable armada of creams and lotions is ready and waiting. You take a look in the mirror fogged up by the shower. Everything is normal. For once, you've been modeling yourself for the last three weeks, so you just have to take care of yourself a little more than usual.

While packing your bag for the next shoot, you take a look at your cell phone. Wow, 40 new followers. While you were in the bathroom… Cool thing. Just as cool as the fact that you can leave your photo equipment at home and only need your toilet bag and a change of clothes. You got to keep the racing bike from one of the last shootings. Helmet on, quick selfie posted and then off into the morning rush hour. With the bike you are simply the fastest. And you look the best. And keep yourself fit. In the last three months, you've often had to make do with just one hour at the gym. Your schedule is full. You were a great photographer, but you have yet to prove yourself as a model.

You arrive at the photo studio and because it just looks cooler, you shoulder your racing bike and carry it up to the studio. You are not the only model waiting here. But one of the older ones. You check Instagram. A good day! 400 new followers since breakfast. But there are also really great pictures of you in your profile. Both your selfies. As well as the pictures of your ex-colleagues. For over a year you are rarely behind the camera. But in front of the camera you are appreciated, because you are not only photogenic, but also think like a photographer.

On Instagram, it's now blow by blow. The more comments you get, the faster you get new followers. You look younger and younger and more athletic in the pictures. And your account is overflowing with crisp pictures of you. There is already a first fan account. When the photographer's assistant arrives at noon with a few boxes of sushi, you have an incredible 2,000 new followers. Not bad for a model who is already quite mature. You are now 32 years old. With over five years of experience as a model. You used to study to be a photographer. You still like to take pictures. But professionally you don't want to do that anymore. In your Instagram account, one has to scroll really far into the history to find pictures of you that were not selfies. But even those are richly commented by male and female groupies.

Phew, that was a really exhausting day. But some of the shots turned out really cool. And there was good money. Of course, you've been in the business for over ten years now. You had your first model jobs when you were not yet 16 years old. But now you are a real brand. Today you got an incredible 4,000 new followers. In one day. On a day when you could hardly post anything yourself. You started the day with a selfie on your road bike.

You ended the day with a selfie in front of the mirror in the bathroom of your hotel room. "It was a great day, tomorrow we'll continue bright and early. Good night to all of you". Ten likes before you even put your phone down.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #age reduction

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fabrickind · 7 months

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📸Want to do cosplay photoshoots but don't know how to find that perfect place to shoot? This tutorial covers how to brainstorm a location for your shoot, logistical and cost concerns with shoot locations, and how to actually find your dream location.

📸This tutorial can be applied to shoots of all types, including but not limited to self shoots, shoots with friends, and shoots with hired photographers. Self shooting or shooting with friends only requires a camera (a phone works!) and possibly a tripod.

Part 2: Finding Locations

Now that you have a shoot concept in mind, it's time to find the location itself. If you don't already have a location in mind, you will need to do some searching to find one.

The Detective Work

Whether you have a type of location in mind or not, you can poke around online to find the ideal place. If you have a type of location in mind, Google Maps or similar can help you find locations if you search for your location type, such as "beach." If you don't have a location type in mind, you can look around at websites like Atlas Obscura or at your local parks district websites. If looking to rent a location or use an indoor location, Peerspace is a site where you can rent photography studios and event spaces, often with equipment of their own for you to borrow, and you can usually shoot in hotel rooms or Airbnbs if that suits your character. If you are out of ideas, look around at what other people in your area use. Other cosplayers are a great resource, but I also recommend looking for engagement photos or graduation photos in your area for ideas on where non-cosplay photographers shoot. Finally, there's a tool called Cos-Map that contains user-submitted locations and detailed discovery tools; it doesn't have a lot of use yet because it is still in beta, so if you have locations to submit, please do so and help other cosplayers!

Cos-Map link: https://experience.arcgis.com/experience/556b7aba7e984c94b7054c405d640635/

Brainstorming

When brainstorming your location types, think of all aspects of the character, series, and your shoot goals and try to match these aspects to real-life locations. I've also worked backwards a few times and chosen one character over another on my list of possible cosplays because I had a shoot location already in mind! Knowing who the character is, what genre of series and shoot you want, and where the series takes place can help you to find somewhere that your character looks good in.

I also have here a list of location types that you may find helpful, and hopefully it includes types of locations you hadn't thought of. This isn't exhaustive, and not all these location types exist in all areas, but this is to give you a jumping off point for thinking of your cosplay shoot locations. Locations like studio shoots, a beach, or a forest may seem obvious, but also look at places like local tourist attractions, areas with graffiti on the walls, and keep an eye out for any selfie museums in your area or touring pop-up museums for unique cosplay shoot locations.

As always, check the rules of anywhere you shoot, and be sure to get permission to shoot there. Part 4 covers this process in more depth.

Getting Creative

If you really can't find a location that suits your character, get creative! You can do anything from a printed backdrop or solid color drape shoot in your own home to a shoot against a cool-looking wall. Often, tighter framing works best with this type of shoot, as you only want to showcase the area directly around you and not the full area that may not be suitable. A wall or some hedges work well for medium shot distance portraits, and some ground or a piece of furniture work well for reclining shots. You may only be able to get a few photos with this type of background, depending on what the background and cosplay are, but if you want to show off a costume now and get a different type of photoshoot later, you can.

Links to other parts: 1 Location Types, 2 Discovering Locations, 3 Indoor vs Outdoor Locations, 4 Location Permissions, 5 Location Logistics

#cosplay photography #cosplay tutorial #cosplay help #cosplay tips #cosplay advice #cosplay #helpful things

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thatrickmcginnis · 1 year

Text

These photos of Robert Smith of The Cure sat forgotten in a negative binder for over 35 years until I rediscovered them last fall while looking for something else. I had, in fact, done my level best to forget about them, as they were evidence of what I remembered as a massive fail made during my earliest years working as a photographer. They were a major stumble on a steep learning curve, and I was sure all evidence had been lost. But let's start at the beginning, when I was assigned to interview Robert Smith and The Cure when they were passing through town on what was apparently called the Beach Party Tour, playing the Kingswood Music Theatre just outside Toronto on July 13, 1986 with 10,000 Maniacs opening.

Another writer at the magazine, Perry Stern, was a huge Cure fan and phoned begging me to let him do the interview; I agreed, provided I still got to take the photos. (I also asked if he could give me a ride to and from the venue.) I had an idea: I'd seen an article in a photography magazine showing how you could get interesting colour washes on your backgrounds by putting complimentary coloured filters in front of your lens and flash. This might have produced interesting results if I bothered doing a test shoot, but I was too cheap/rushed/arrogant for that sort of thing, so I showed up with green and red filters on my Pentax Spotmatic and my Vivitar flash and shot away in a fenced-off grassy area beside the stage.

It's worth talking about the unusual look Robert Smith was rocking during at least part of 1986 - trainers and golf shirts and jeans and short hair. If I still had the transparencies I shot that day including the rest of the band I'd be able to tell you if the Cure as a whole were taking a vacation from their Goth image and dressed down similarly, and if this was one of the few artifacts attesting to a brief sportswear period in the band's history. But the results were awful - overexposed, with a greenish tint, mostly because I had no clue what the ideal ratio between the bright sunlight and the flash strength should have been. The magazine might have reluctantly printed one remotely salvageable frame but my ambition had definitely overstripped my skill and I tried to forget about this shoot.

But at some point a few months after my disastrous Cure shoot I thought I might be able to salvage the results by converting the slides to black and white negatives. I either found someone who could produce an internegative or borrowed the gear to do it myself, but inexperience won again and the four portraits of Robert Smith that I produced were too overexposed for me to work with all those years ago, so I filed them at the bottom of a negative sheet and forgot about them.

Until last fall when I found them again and decided to see if they could be saved with scanning and the neural filters that were recently added to Photoshop. The film grain that was so hard to deal with back in 1986 suddenly became a feature, adding to the retro feel the shots had acquired either with time or in my own mind. With some judicious application of the restoration filter these frames cleaned up nicely, but I decided to push things one stop further by using the colorizing filter as well - making sure Smith's signature smeared lipstick wasn't just retained but highlighted. Now I like to imagine that these shots were taken in 1937 with an old Kodak folding camera like my Jiffy Six-20, and hand-coloured by some underpaid darkroom assistant working for a developing lab in a building down in the warehouse district of town. It's certainly a better story than the one about the kid photographer who screwed up on a big job nearly forty years ago.

#robert smith #the cure #1986 #portrait photography #portrait #photography #photographer #film photography #portraiture #black and white #old photos #early work #adobe photoshop #ai filter

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antennaed-shidou · 5 months

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Who is he

✎ Rin Itoshi x f! reader

✎ Warning: not proofread

✎ Portrait Series Tape 004

✎ Extras: Work count 500+

As the two were making their way to his locker the female bumped into someone, “Oh sorry are you ok–” As she was backing away, the person's features came into view. She could tell he was tall and was of course wearing the school uniform, but she could tell she had toned muscles underneath. Before she got too carried away, her [e/c] eyes made contact with his teal eyes. It was like a bunch of things were running through her mind at the time, but she paid no attention to them.

“You’re that girl who was taking a picture of me at the beach a few days ago, right?” As he spoke a familiar feeling was wrapped around {Y/n} head. It was Rin Itoshi yet again with a puzzled look on his face.

“Who is this, {Y/n}?” Gen asked, getting closer to her side.

“You know the football team my step-brother is in. This is one of his teammates, the best player, well beside his brother.” {Y/n} leans closer to Gen, “His name is Itoshi Rin, you know, Itoshis’ Sae younger brother.”

Gen nodded his head standing straight and a little ahead of his friend. “Who do you think you're talking to,” Gen spoke up pointing at {Y/n}, “{Y/n} is the best photograph to ever step on this planet, heck even the whole world. And you are talking to her like she is nothing, meanwhile, you are nothing and have nothing to contribute to the world.”

The female hand subconsciously hit the back of Gen's head making him stop talking and rub his head. As he had a free hand she grabbed it dragging him along to his class. Before she completely left {Y/n} turned back to Rin, “Sorry about him, Rin. He just says things that are on his mind, whether it’s good or bad.”

She pulled his arm down hard which made him look at her. “Don’t say things like that again,” She whispers loudly.

“He disrespected you, {Y/n}. What was I supposed to do?” Gen yanks his hand away from her, regaining his balance.

{Y/n} pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing it slightly and letting out a sigh, “Look.” She took her hand off her nose holding it in front of her face, “I know that you are trying to help me and defend me, but this is going too far. It makes me happy to know that you are trying and that you are looking after me.” She pauses seeing that Gen is looking down at the floor embarrassed by his previous, “Gen look at me,” He slightly moves his head upward to look at her. “I know you do your best and I really do appreciate it, but some people really don’t care about me and what I do. So next time don’t go through the trouble or embarrass yourself or anyone for that matter.

Gen moves his black-to-silver hair out of his face revealing his red eyes that were now staring head-on with [e/c] soft eyes, “I’m sorry {Y/n}. You’re right, I’ll promise not to do such a thing again.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” The female pulled him in for a hug. He hugged her tighter. As soon as they let go the bell rang and the two friends went their separate ways.

a/n: honestly I don't know what to say

#blue lock #fanfic #bllk #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #mk. stories #mk. portrait #sneak peek #x y/n #blue lock rin #rin x reader #rin itoshi

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ambiguouspuzuma · 4 months

Text

The Allergologist

They found Giuliana first and last. There had been one guest missing when the others sat down to eat, a welcome dinner apparently laid on by their host, but she seemed to have been laid out at the same time. They almost stumbled across her, heading out to the veranda with their drinks. Nearly stepped over her fallen body, as the sun set out over the sea. But they'd had to come across each other first.

"I'm the photographer," Tarcisio announced to the entrance hall, returning from his brief search of the villa. "And I do so look forward to working with you all tomorrow. I know we have a few days here, but I already have plenty of ideas for each of you. This scenery will make for some wonderful backdrops."

They'd arrived separately, ferried in on small dinghies with a single set of oars. Their boatman had explained that the seas around the island were strewn with jagged rocks, as deadly as they were beautiful, and there was no chance of risking a larger vessel, let alone one with an engine. He'd dropped them on a white sand beach on the far side of the island, with a promise to return at the end of the week when their work was complete.

"Is everyone else here a model?" Mona asked, eyeing up her competition. "Forgive me, I'm not familiar with any of your work. I mostly do solo shoots."

There had been small talk, beforehand: exchanged names and kisses, complaints about the journey, offers of the lemon-water on a stand by the door. But that had been in pairs - soon broken up to take their luggage to their allocated rooms, to change out of their travelling clothes, to wipe their brows and cleanse their pores. This was the first time they'd all gathered together. The whole crew, or so they'd thought.

"Yes," Davide said, meeting her appraisal with one of his own. "Likewise."

He was beautiful in the old fashioned sense of coming from great wealth. High cheekbones were the legacy of generations of good breeding, and so were the monthly spa retreats, the minor surgeries, the best treatments money could buy. In the past, he might have commissioned an artist to create a flattering portrait; now he paid them to paint it directly onto his face. Muses had always come from money. The right background could make any foreground work.

Hers seemed more of a natural beauty, in the sense of a thresher shark or distant meteor shower. She was sleek, dark, angular, what the magazines called striking - a stiletto wrapped in fondant, a light dusting of skin across cartilage and bone, as sweet as sharpened sugar cane. Davide had learnt to mistrust competitors on sight. Theirs was a cut-throat industry. They might occupy different role today, but the next shoot might only call for one model, and she wouldn't hesitate to take over his role; any more than he would pause to do the same.

"I'm not." Luisa broke that eye contact before it could turn deadly. "I'm a writer. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, to be perfectly honest. I just received the letter of commission, but it didn't mention anything about a shoot, or that anybody else would be joining me. I thought this was for a piece of travel writing."

"They'll probably run some quotes with the images," Tarcisio explained. "Just write a few lines of poetic description about the island. You can accompany me, if you like. Then you'll capture the same view, the same light, as the camera does."

"Do we know who they are?" Davide asked. "My letters were from a Signor Angelo Cauriani, but I couldn't find out who he represents. Not a major publication, that's for sure."

They all nodded at the name. It was familiar, and not just from the correspondence that had brought them here: an initial approach, an offer, an invitation to this island, their travel already arranged. Mona ventured that it rang a distant bell; Luisa agreed that she might have heard of him before, but couldn't quite place where.

"Everyone needs photographs." Tarcisio shrugged. "It could be a trade magazine. Any kind of company, looking for some filler for their brochures. Household appliances. Accountancy. All I know is that he represents a cheque that cashed. Whatever line of work he's in, I'm not in the business of turning down a well-paid job."

There were more nods at that. None of them wanted to share their individual offers, although Mona and Davide locked eyes again. The money had been enough to bring them all here. All expenses paid, and what an expense it must have been: what seemed to be an island all their own, complete with this villa at its heart. Tarcisio showed them what he'd discovered on his tour of the inside: a grand library, well-stocked with dusty classics; a solarium, replete with a minor jungle of tropical plants; a marble dining room, with a table laid for five.

"It's set for us," he said, pointing to the name plates between each knife and fork. Mona Musso and Luisa Donadoni. Davide Guglielmi and Tarcisio Minotti. The fifth name, Giuliana Nocera, they assumed to represent their host - there was no mention of Signor Cauriani, but no doubt he had a personal assistant, a hostess who dealt with these logistics on the ground. Their paymasters rarely attended shoots in person, and they certainly didn't supervise the catering.

The centre of the table was arranged with silver cloches of differing sizes, like a modernist sculpture, or a future colony on Mars. With nothing else to do but wait, Tarcisio dared to take a peek, and revealed the sight - and more alluring scent - of several delicious meals, apparently left here for their arrival. They were warm, but cooling quickly, and eventually hunger overcame etiquette: Signora Nocera, when she arrived, would surely understand. Talent had to be taken care of first.

"You should try the risotto," Mona addressed Davide to her right, helping herself to the smallest possible portion. "Set food isn't normally this good - although you seem like you're used to fine dining otherwise."

"What's in it?" he asked, with more than his usual suspicion. There were two ways he might take her comment, and neither was appreciated. "I can't have anything with tree nuts in."

"I haven't heard of that diet."

"It's an allergy," he replied, with a look that might have been withering were she not already so reduced. "I could die, so I'd appreciate a little more sensitivity."

"Of course." Mona flashed a smile as bleached and empty as a dying coral reef. "Just pumpkin and parmesan, to my uneducated palette - no pesto or pistachio, if that's what you're worried about."

"The arancini seem to just be mushroom," Luisa said, proffering the dish across from him. "But I'd understand if you don't want to take the risk. I might not, if I were in your position. There's no shame in being cautious."

They navigated the main course safely, and retired to an adjoining room, where they found a dessert trolley before a small cabinet of drinks. As in the dining room, five glasses had been laid out for them to use, and Luisa poured them each a small sherry to celebrate their mutual good fortune. "To new friends," she led a toast, and let the others follow with their own.

"To absent hostesses."

"To a successful shoot."

"To Signor Cauriani, wherever he may be."

They assessed the desserts on offer, but the models didn't like to eat much on a job, and a room temperature affogato did little to entice them otherwise. Davide was out of luck in any case: he reeled away from the sight of hazelnut zabagliones, amaretti semifreddo and pistachio cheesecake. Tarcisio tried a slice of the latter, whilst Luisa had a single bite of baklava.

"Speaking of allergies, here's an interesting twist for you." As a novice writer, it seemed she felt compelled to draw attention to all and any sources of irony. "I'm deathly allergic to bee stings, and yet I adore honey on everything."

"Then by all means, the rest are yours," Davide said, almost diplomatically, hoping that the sticky treats might seal her mouth shut.

The room had been set out with reading chairs, around a table with a deck of cards, but they decided to take their drinks outside instead. It was a warm evening, and it seemed a waste to spend it cooped up inside, even in a place as beautiful as this - the alternative was an ocean view, and no amount of décor could compete with a sunset out at sea. The villa backed onto a veranda, and they flowed out through vast French doors, topping up their drinks along the way.

"You weren't wrong about the scenery," Davide said to their photographer, once he'd caught his breath. The waves sparkled in the evening light, each ripple perfect from above, as if the sea was dancing for their audience. "They couldn't have picked a better spot."

"It's hard to find a bad one," Tarcisio agreed. "I've barely explored this side of this island, but what I saw on the walk up from the boat was magical. I can't wait to see how it wears the sunlight in the morning, when the front of the villa will have its chance to shine. Forgive me if I wake you at the break of dawn!"

"Oh, so the harbour's on the other side?" Luisa, who usually charged by the word, didn't stay quiet for long. "Silly me, I was just looking for our boat."

"Would you call it a harbour?" Mona's tone made her own feelings clear, including some disdain for her mistake. The writer clearly moved in different circles in her usual professional life - smaller ones, and until now apparently landlocked. "I counted one small boat and a length of rope."

"Let's walk round and see, shall we?" Tarcisio took his turn as peacemaker. Models were often highly strung, and he'd learnt the power of distraction long ago. "Come on, there's nothing like an after-dinner stroll."

He almost tripped over the body. A woman, of a similar age to the rest of them. Attractive, if it wasn't for the pool of blood concealing half her face. It looked like she'd done something similar, coming around the side of the house: taking the corner at speed, judging from the way she'd sprawled across the patio, before stumbling on an uneven paving slab. A heavy landing, with her head taking the worst of the impact. Slender arms not raised in time.

"Oh fuck," said Luisa, the wordsmith. "Is she... you know?"

"Dead?" Mona wore the same scathing tone, as if the circles she frequented also saw plenty of head wounds. "It looks like it, wouldn't you say?"

"But for how long?" Tarcisio wondered. "I certainly didn't hear anything. Was I the first to arrive?"

Davide vomited. He'd been lagging behind the others as they walked around the house, but reacted to the corpse with far more enthusiasm.

"Charming," Mona said, stepping closer to the body, as if preferring blood to bile. "Signora Nocera, we presume?"

"That would make sense. I just don't know why she's here, when the rest of us met in the entrance hall. Maybe she wasn't our hostess, after all - just the first of us to get here. Although I still don't know why she didn't wait inside."

"A pre-dinner stroll has just as much appeal. You went on your own little tour, when you thought you were the only one here." She peered closer at the wound. "Are we thinking that she fell? There's not much sign of other wounds, defensive or otherwise."

"I don't think she was walking," Luisa said, looking ahead of them. "There are footprints, if you see - coming from the front of the house. Wet sand from the beach."

"And you can tell she was running from the way they're spaced?" Mona had been born cynical, and this glorified pen-for-hire had hardly earnt her trust.

"Something like that," Luisa agreed, but in a far-off sort of voice. "But I do think you should look at them. You see... there are two sets of tracks. I think that she was being chased."

There was a soft thud and a lighter tinkle behind them. They all jumped, Tarcisio actually clearing the body in a bid to use it as a human shield - but if anything they had gained another. Davide had been red in the face since his arrival on the scene, bent double, as if the short walk around the corner had given him a stitch. Now he had collapsed, landing in a miserable pool of his own ejecta.

"Has he actually fainted?" Mona was losing patience with her colleagues. "I know it's awful, but seriously? Some people need to get a grip. You don't see me keeling over at the first sight of blood."

Luisa went to check his pulse, tried doing so again, and then looked back up at the others - she didn't actually say it, for once lost for words, but the look on her face told them everything they needed to know. Mona had to check for herself, and then Tarcisio tried for good measure, but none of find it - not in his wrist, his palm, his neck, and nor could Luisa hear a beating heart, when she put an ear to his well-muscled chest.

"Another one of us dead," she said, in that same, distant way, as if in her mind she was still at home in bed, and all of this was a dream from which she would shortly wake.

"Do we think it was shock?" An element of hope had crept into Mona's voice.

Tarcisio set his own glass down on the flagstones, and prized the shattered stem from the dead man's fingers. He sniffed the remnants of the glass, then the bile on the floor, and delivered the verdict like a death sentence.

"There's a faint smell of almonds."

"As in cyanide?" asked Luisa, who clearly read too many novels.

"As in amaretto," he said. "Or anything with orgeat in it. I'm not a mixologist."

"Does it matter?" she said. "It could have been an almond milk substitute, and his allergy would have made that just as deadly. Cyanide or not, are we saying he was poisoned?"

"Why don't you tell us?" Mona interjected. "Didn't you pour the sherry?"

"The same bottle for all of us, remember." Luisa took a sip from her own drink, and tried to discern any frangipane perfume. "We each picked up a glass. I can't taste any almond in mine."

"Nor mine," Tarcisio said, reclaiming it from the ground - although he only sampled the bouquet, reluctant to keep drinking from a potential murder weapon. "It could have equally been something he ate. Did you get him to try your risotto, in the end?"

"It wasn't mine, just in front of me," Mona said - although she didn't have an answer to the rest.

"Two deaths in one evening," Luisa repeated, as if needing someone else to confirm this was real. "That can't be a coincidence, right? What do we do?"

"We keep walking." Tarcisio straightened up, back in charge. "We have to contact the mainland. Let's find the boat, and get out of here."

"Are we sure it's safe?" Mona asked. "There are two bodies on this path already."

"Right now, I think it's just about the safest place on this island."

"Just because you scouted it this afternoon?" Her natural scepticism was back.

He shook his head, and pointed to what Luisa had seen before: two sets of tracks, leading up to presumably-Giuliana's corpse. They'd grown fainter as they went, and been disturbed by their own sortie from the rear, but they did seem to continue on behind them.

"Because the footprints lead the other way."

They walked on, three where they had been four, where they should have been five. The survivors kept close together, but at least an arm's length apart. None wanted to be first, with the others behind them - but neither did they want to be last, with nobody watching their back. They rotated as a pack, like a peloton of cyclists, or a phalanx of soldiers: eyes open, looking all around, and ready to run at the second sign of trouble.

They found the harbour, or length of rope, or where it used to be. Their gondolier was gone. They retraced the path down from the villa approach, hoping that they'd somehow missed it behind the sparse vegetation, but there was no mistaken. The boat had gone, or been sunk, and the mooring with it: there was no sign that it had ever been here. If a search party came looking for them, they wouldn't find much of a trail.

"We've been abandoned." Luisa breathed, as if the realisation had winded her.

"Or something happened to him." Tarcisio told her, his face equally pale. He made to sit down on the trail back to the house, but reconsidered, on inspecting the state of the ground. His trousers were expensive.

"There's a third option." There was no panic in Mona's voice, only a sort of grim recognition of the facts.

"That the boatman is our killer?" He nodded. "I considered that as well. Not that it changes much, from our perspective."

"But I've never seen that man before in my life!" Luisa protested. "Why lure us all the way out here, just to kill us one-by-one? Why would a stranger ferry us to our deaths?"

"None of us claim to have met each other," Mona reminded her. "And yet here we are. Two dead. Someone has to have had a grudge. It could be a third party, someone who knows all of us separately. Our work must have its overlaps."

"You think they'll be coming for all of us?" She seemed horrified, as if she hadn't considered that she might be a target too. As if the others must have done something to deserve it. "Why?"

"I can't see why we'd be any safer. Davide was a stranger to each of us, as far as we know. Perhaps someone who resents models. A writer or photographer, say."

"Or a model wanting to eliminate her competition," Tarcisio shot back. "Do we know anything about Signora Nocera?"

"She didn't look like a model," said Mona, uncharitably. "Maybe she really was here to welcome us, and arrived before us to set up. She might have even cooked the meal, before someone did for her. Who was the first to arrive? It certainly wasn't me."

"You know that I was here," he sighed. "But I told you, I didn't see anyone else. Signora Nocera, or otherwise. Not that I was particularly looking. We can check the cupboards when we're back."

"What about Signor Cauriani?" Luisa shuddered. "Do you think he could be hiding somewhere in the house?"

"He could have been the boatman, for as much as we know," Tarcisio said. "But we're not going to learn any more here. Come on, let's take another look at the house. I don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood to be hunted. I don't want to wait for them to find us."

"I agree," Mona said. "Let's go back via the kitchen. I want a knife."

"To kill them?" Tarcisio didn't seem as sure about that. "From the evidence to date, it doesn't seem like they've used force, or felt comfortable attacking us as a group. We'd be better off keeping alive to traps, and sticking together. Knives don't make that quite so tempting."

"For you, perhaps." She shrugged. "I'd certainly feel more comfortable."

They walked back up the slope, but with less enthusiasm than when they'd first arrived. The island was still beautiful, but the sun was beginning to set, and they wouldn't have much longer in the light. Nobody said it aloud, but they wanted to have the house secured before it got dark. Fears could be faced in the daytime. Trust, and the alliance they would need to build on its foundations, could survive in plain sight. But at night, they would only see the shadows in each others' eyes.

"We must be able to work it out," Luisa said. "Somebody lured us here. There must be a reason."

"We have our work in common." Tarcisio gave her a sideways glance. "More or less. Creative industries. That's how they found us, after all."

"It can't just be a hatred for our professions," she countered. "There would be better ways. Sabotage a fashion show. Invite even more of us, and sink our boat on the way here. We're being hunted one by one. That feels far more personal."

"Perhaps Signor Cauriani isn't the first to work with all of us. Or, rather, perhaps we've all brushed paths with him before. Not together, but at different times. We must have some mutual clients."

"Or colleagues," Mona offered. "Our world is a small one. There has to be some overlap."

"So we could mark it out. Share a list of every job we've ever done, every place we've ever worked."

"For what?" She seemed exhausted by the thought. "How does that help us survive tonight? If there's a killer, they must be on this island, and I'm not sitting down to let them catch me playing at puzzles. We won't find them on paper. We'll find them in the flesh."

She took the lead on their search. First the kitchen, where she snatched a knife. For all his protests, Tarcisio didn't hesitate to follow suit. Only Luisa seemed reluctant, as if holding the proffered knife would make this somehow real; an escalation of what had been a thought experiment, one of the stories she wrote in her own time, into a brutal, grisly truth.

The next stop was Giuliana's room. Dusk had fallen against the tall windows, and Mona drew the curtains on the inside to match. Luisa flicked the light switch back and forth, but her efforts only earnt her a telling-off from Tarcisio.

"You'll blow the bulb," he said, striding to examine it; the shade was a scalloped design, the same lilac as the curtain. "Oh. Or not."

"What's wrong?"

"There isn't one." He turned back to face her. "Either the venue failed to provide one, or..."

"Somebody's removed it," she finished. "Before or after we were here."

Mona hadn't waited for the light, pouncing on an unpacked suitcase on the far side of the bed. The curtains were a lightweight fabric, and only added a purple hue to the last light of the day: that twilight gloom was just enough to work by, and she had spilled Giuliana's belonging out across the floor.

"She had an inhaler." It was held up as evidence. "Two inhalers, and some kind of breathing tube."

"She was asthmatic?"

"It seems so." Mona straightened up. "Strange to go on a run without them, right?"

"Unless it wasn't by choice." Tarcisio went over to survey the evidence for himself. "I'm assuming this is what killed her, right? Somebody startles her unawares, then chases her around the island until she has an asthma attack and dies. Hitting her head on the fall would just have been a bonus."

"They wouldn't even have needed to touch her," she agreed. "Isn't that how early humans used to hunt? I read something about that once. Persistence predators? Luisa, you must know this kind of-"

They turned to the author, but she had her eyes closed; a look of intense focus on her face.

"Oh, get a grip," Mona continued. "You've already seen her body. This is hardly worse than that."

"Not that - hang on." A raised hand appealed for silence. "Do you hear buzzing?"

They stood quietly for a moment, but the other two shook their heads.

"Maybe you've fried the electrical system," Tarcisio said. "I told you to go easy on that switch."

They headed on into an even darker corridor, which had been reclaimed by the shadows even as they lingered in Giuliana's room - eyes adjusting to the gloom, ears pricked for any sound of movement. But Luisa's appeal for silence had clearly passed, because she returned to her questioning of the killer's motive.

"It's not for money, that's for sure; for me, anyway. I don't think I have any ghosts in my past - and I'd know if I did, right? Is it possible to make somebody hate you, and not even know what you've done?"

"I add beauty to the world," Tarcisio said. "I can't think why anyone would want to hurt me. I certainly haven't hurt them."

"Ghosts are invisible," Mona added. "I'm sure I make a lot of people mad - jealous, mostly, including plenty of my so-called peers. But it's impossible to say who. They're the ones looking at me, not the other way around.

"Can we narrow it down, do you think? We're looking for someone who would want to hurt all of us; Davide and Giuliana too. For example, I grew up in Umbria."

"Tuscany."

"Palermo," Mona said. "But I studied in Milano, so I've been there from a pretty young age."

"Me too." They both looked to Luisa.

"Firenze," she said. "Never lived in Milano, sorry. That feels quite general, anyway; you must have met hundreds of people there. We need to find a smaller intersection."

"What if there's no motive at all?" Tarcisio suggested. "Like I said, I can't see why I would have been targeted. Who's to say I was?"

"Congratulations on leading such a perfect life," Mona replied, her tone making clear that she could definitely see why someone would wish him harm. "But you're here, the same as us, no better or worse. We're all in the same boat. We all came here in it."

"But what if that's because I'm vulnerable?" he asked. "Giuliana was an easy victim, as we've just found out. Davide had his allergy. I'm... well, I didn't mention this earlier, but I have severe photosensitive epilepsy."

"As a photographer?"

"Yes, yes, I've heard all the comments. How ironic, etcetera. No, I don't use the flash. That's why I always shoot in daylight. Yes, I'm sure it's very amusing for you, but this is my passion. Why shouldn't I get to follow my dreams?"

"And you didn't think to mention this earlier?" Luisa asked.

"It wasn't relevant, was it? We spoke about allergies at dinner, you and Davide, but it wasn't until we found the inhalers..."

"I have allergies too," Mona said, her voice as quiet as it had been since arrival.

"You?" As if attached to some counterbalance, Luisa had never been more incredulous. "After all you mocked Davide earlier..."

"Not to food, idiot. To aspirin. You don't need to check for that in ingredients."

"You might here," Tarcisio said, stepping between them. He seemed like he'd resolved more than a few conflicts on set. "So what now?"

"I'm not staying here for the corridors to fill with bees," Luisa resolved. "Especially not in the dark. Why don't we lock the doors, barricade ourselves in our respective rooms, and regroup in the morning, or until the search party arrives. In fact, let's swap rooms, in case of any tailored traps."

"Sounds good to me," Mona said, for once in agreement. They each moved as if to walk away, but Tarcisio remained in the middle.

"It's not the dark I'm afraid of," he reminded them, raising his knife. "Can somebody help me fashion a blindfold? If they've taken the bulbs from some of the rooms, who knows what they've done with them. I don't want to wake to strobe lights against my window."

"I'd just be happy to wake at all." Luisa turned to Mona. "You studied fashion, right? Can you rustle something up? I don't want to stay here a moment more than we have to."

"Sure, it's not exactly hard to tie a knot. You run off to bed."

"Tarcisio, are you okay with that?" She gave a pointed glance to the even pointier knives. "Being left alone?"

"I think I'm going to have to trust her" he said, catching her meaning. Being alone wasn't the problem. He waited for Luisa to head on back up the corridor, then addressed Mona directly. "Do you want me to return the favour? I can keep my eyes closed together, but you'll need to eat at some point. Or drink, given that's what did it for Davide. Who knows what they can put in the water."

"You want to be me poison taster?" She seemed to find the idea amusing. "I'll be your eyes, you be my mouth?"

"That would seem a sensible arrangement - even if it is a bit like the blind leading the... is there a word for people without taste?"

"Men?"

Mona affixed the rudimentary blindfold, and guided Tarcisio towards the rooms. If Luisa had mixed it up by taking his, disco lights or not, Mona figured she would take the room assigned to Luisa, interested to look through her clothes, and let him have hers. That would be enough to scramble any of the killer's preparations - although if one of them was guilty, they'd all know the new layout by now.

"It's funny," he said. "Now I hear the buzzing. Maybe it's something to do with the eyes being covered, you know? Other senses compensating."

"No, I hear it too." It seemed to be coming from Luisa's old room. A constant humming sound. Mona stepped forward to crack open the door, but Tarcisio grasped for her arm.

"Don't. What if that's part of the trap for one of us?" He let go as she did. "No more exploring, please. We just need to hole up somewhere safe, and wait there for our rescue."

"What about Luisa?" Her concern was almost surprising. "Do you think this means she's safe - or could they have more bees elsewhere?"

"We can't know until the morning, but hopefully she'll just stay holed up too. No doubt making a list of everyone she's every met, for us to cross-check over breakfast."

"Do you want me to take you to my room? I assume they can't pump aspirin into the air, so I shouldn't be as prone to traps as the two of you. Until that breakfast, anyway."

"That sounds good," Tarcisio said, although his voice didn't. With the blindfold on, he was wholly reliant on her, and entirely at her mercy. Heading to the room with all of her luggage would only make that imbalance worse. But what could he say? "Anywhere out of these corridors."

They kept walking, making slow progress with the occasional nudge of his arm as a guide. It may have just been because she'd mentioned something in the air, but his mouth felt dry with nerves. Even Mona had to stop and cough at times, once quite badly, and he felt the need to ask if she was okay.

"All fine," she said, after a pause, although her voice sounded affected. It might have been an irritated throat, but the accent was more like Luisa's. "In fact, the coast is clear, if you want to take your blindfold off. I can help you with that."

"Mona?" he asked, taking a step back.

"She's here," Luisa said. "On the floor. To your right."

"Dead?"

"Yes, but don't worry - I gave her a little something for the pain."

"You're the killer." The accusation felt redundant, given that he was very nearly a witness to the latest death, but she denied it anyway.

"Oh, no, that was poor Giuliana. She set this whole thing up, you see. Angelo Cauriana is an anagram for her name, Giuliana Nocera, as none of you seemed to notice. And here I thought models liked looking at reflections."

"An anagram?" There was too much to get his head round.

"Just about. Her parents could have chosen an easier name for me. So many vowels! I almost copped out with an initial, Raoul A. Cengiani, but that rather gives the game away."

"But, if it was Giuliana - she was the first to die?"

"We found her first, that's true, but the police will see her as the last. Fleeing the scene of her crimes, you see. That's if they even solve that little puzzle - it's a shame Mona didn't want to try working this out, I was intrigued to see how you'd both get on. Ideally they'd write all of this off as a series of tragic accidents, but I suspect they'd rather have a murderer to take the fall. So to speak."

She walked away as she spoke, and he paced towards her, not wanting to lose his sense of where she was. In front of him, he'd have a chance: a knife in his hand, and better reach. But if he lost her, she could appear behind him at any point, or flicker a torch at him from a distance. He'd been able to tell her off with the light switch, but he didn't think she'd listen anymore.

As promised, there was a shape by his right foot. Tarcisio risked a peek: he was cautious of potential traps, but knew he was just as vulnerable blind, and Luisa wouldn't expect him to be looking now. They seemed to be heading back out towards the French doors; to where Giuliana's body was. To where Luisa had seen her die.

"But she was innocent," he protested.

"Oh yes. Tragically so. The best patsies often are." Blindfold back in place, he kept following her voice - and it kept getting fainter. "The real blame goes to your friend Mona Musso. She took something from me, you see - in one night she's probably forgotten. My partner of five years. My happiness. My life."

Tarcisio's mind fell to the body on the floor. It looked like Luisa had taken Mona's life, not the other way around. "So this was all about her? Why the rest of us? I had nothing to do with any affair."

"I wanted to even things out," she continued, not acknowledging the question. "But I knew people like Mona never hurt just once. She would have other victims, a trail of lives ruined in her self-absorbed wake. Enter poor Giuliana. She was a runner, ironically. Mona got her fired from a set."

"I've never worked with Mona before. Believe me, I'd remember."

"Yes - you would, wouldn't you?" She seemed to have paused, so Tarcisio stopped as well. He didn't dare to lift the blindfold for another peek, but he could feel the evening air on the rest of his face. "Giuliana, on the other hand... who remembers the runners? They only exist to keep the talent happy. You've worked with her; all of you had. That was easy enough for me to find out. I'm sure that the police won't find it too challenging."

"So that's our connection. A colleague in common." There had been nothing to link him to Mona, or Davide. Their other similarities had just been like filling a line-up, to hide the true target. Luisa had found a single link with Giuliana, and just fanned out on that axis. "What if one of us had recognised her?"

"I doubted it. She seemed the type to fade into the backdrop - and you're all about backdrops, aren't you?" Luisa spoke with venom, as if she'd been looked over in the same way. They'd probably done that on this trip. "But even if you did, you'd have assumed what you guessed anyway: that she was working as a runner again, for Signor Cauriani, here to feed you and make you comfortable."

"So that's my crime? Overlooking her?"

"I have no idea what passed between you," Luisa said. "Only that she'd worked for you. But if this was going to be Giuliana's grand revenge, I needed to spread the weight. We can't leave all the focus on Mona, much as she might like that. I might be the prime suspect there, if our link came to light. But have her take down a group of you, all with the same connection to her? It's the only explanation."

"But why me, specifically? I don't think I did her any harm. She must have worked with hundreds of people."

"Oh, you worked that one out for yourself! You're epileptic, remember. That was the one thing I found out about Mona. Her allergies. A murder weapon, gifted just like that. That was the seed of this entire plan. If I could find other people I could kill without touch, Giuliana would have the chance to build her trap."

"And invite only the vulnerable prey?"

"Exactly. No suggestion that you all hurt her, so I wouldn't worry about your reputation for adding beauty to the world. They'll probably say she snapped, turned against the whole industry, and just wanted to take down whoever she could. An equal and opposite allergic reaction."

Tarcisio's head was spinning. So he and Davide hadn't been targeted at all: just chosen for having something shared with the victim. A piece of rotten luck. They'd been searching for a victim demographic, a reason they'd be targeted together, but it had been Mona all along. She was the demographic, and they shared this overlap. Although Luisa had as well. "And where do you fit in, with the bee allergy? Is this to be a murder-suicide?"

"Bee allergy? I just said that to fit in, silly. I'm not really allergic to anything; except models, I'm learning. Just as I never received an invitation, and arrived here on my own steam; a dinghy I stashed down on the other side of the island. I have no part in Giuliana's plot, I'm sorry to say. The boatman she hired will be back for her in the morning, but I'll be long gone by then."

"After inducing a seizure, I take it." He knew they were outside. How quickly could he run to the shoreline? If he got ahead of her, it didn't matter if she had the brightest torch in the world, short of a flash-bang grenade to throw. The darkness wouldn't help him find the boat, but if he could... "But tell me more about-"

He sank to his knees, which only made the pain worse. A knife - Mona's knife - had gone through the back of his leg, and the muscle had crumpled under his weight.

"Oh do try to run, please," Luisa said, as she removed the blindfold carefully from his eyes. "That would sell the story so well, limping on to the coast. You can even use this as a tourniquet, if you like. Not that it will do enough to stop the blood. Arteries are so very fragile."

"I don't understand," Tarcisio whimpered, blinking up at her. Her face was a silhouette against the night. "I thought- you said-"

"That you would die by your vulnerabilities?" He nodded, biting back the pain. She had been right: the blood was flowing thick and fast. It was pooled on the paving slaps beneath him; there was another mound not far away, with another pool beneath it. He wondered if they would merge. "Ah, but that would have been far too neat. Giuliana had to die as well, remember! She couldn't have carried this off without a hitch. Somebody had to defy her, and try to escape."

"You've made it look like she stabbed me? From behind?"

"Exactly. You thought she'd fallen, at first, right? Or been pushed? That she was being chased?"

"Right. But then we found her medication..."

"Which I'll clean away, the same as yours," Luisa said smoothly. "Better not to link her to the victim pool. But it's funny how things work out, isn't it? Just this afternoon, you were following the tracks, wondering who had chased her from the beach. But it turns out she was chasing you."

#writing #original writing #creative writing #short story #prose

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phoenix-joy · 5 months

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Author & Timestamp: Margaret Talbot October 22, 2018 (almost 6 years old as of May 2, 2024)

Polychromy refers to "decoration in many colours, esp in architecture or sculpture". - Collins Dictionary. Extract of a much longer article (please note: I have shortened some sentences where possible and broken up some paragraphs by added spacing. I did this to try to make it a little easier for other neurodivergent people to read):

Researchers demonstrate the process of applying color to the Treu Head, from a Roman sculpture of a goddess, made in the second century A.D. Ancient sculptures were often painted with vibrant hair colors and skin tones. - Photograph by Mark Peckmezian for The New Yorker

For Abbe, [...] a professor of ancient art at the University of Georgia, the idea that the ancients disdained bright color “is the most common misconception about Western aesthetics in the history of Western art.” It is, he said, “a lie we all hold dear.”

[...]

[...] Marco Leona, who runs the scientific-research department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art [...] said, of polychromy, “It’s like the best-kept secret that’s not even a secret.”

Jan Stubbe Østergaard, a former curator at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek museum, in Copenhagen, and the founder of an international research network on polychromy, told me, “Saying you’ve seen these sculptures when you’ve seen only the white marble is comparable to somebody coming from the beach and saying they’ve seen a whale because there was a skeleton on the beach.”

[...]

[...] debate about ancient sculpture has taken on an unexpected moral and political urgency. [In 2017], a University of Iowa classics professor, Sarah Bond, published two essays [...] arguing that it was time we all accepted that ancient sculpture was not pure white—and neither were the people of the ancient world. One false notion, she said, had reinforced the other.

For classical scholars, it is a given that the Roman Empire—which, at its height, stretched from North Africa to Scotland—was ethnically diverse. In the Forbes essay, Bond notes, “Although Romans generally differentiated people on their cultural and ethnic background rather than the color of their skin, ancient sources do occasionally mention skin tone and artists tried to convey the color of their flesh.”

Depictions of darker skin can be seen on ancient vases, in small terra-cotta figures, and in the Fayum portraits, a remarkable trove of naturalistic paintings from the imperial Roman province of Egypt, which are among the few paintings on wood that survive from that period. These near-life-size portraits, which were painted on funerary objects, present their subjects with an array of skin tones, from olive green to deep brown, testifying to a complex intermingling of Greek, Roman, and local Egyptian populations. (The Fayum portraits have been widely dispersed among museums.)

Bond [had] been moved to write her essays when a racist group, Identity Evropa, started putting up posters on college campuses, including Iowa’s, that presented classical white marble statues as emblems of white nationalism. After the publication of her essays, she received a stream of hate messages online. She is not the only classicist who has been targeted by the so-called alt-right. Some white supremacists have been drawn to classical studies out of a desire to affirm what they imagine to be an unblemished lineage of white Western culture extending back to ancient Greece. When they are told that their understanding of classical history is flawed, they often get testy.

[In early 2018], the BBC and Netflix broadcast “Troy: Fall of a City,” a miniseries in which the Homeric hero Achilles is played by a British actor of Ghanaian descent. The casting decision elicited a backlash in right-wing publications. Online commenters insisted that the “real” Achilles was blond-haired and blue-eyed, and that someone with skin as dark as the actor’s surely would have been a slave.

It’s true that Homer describes the hair of Achilles as xanthos, a word often used to characterize objects that we would call yellow, but Achilles is [mythological], so imaginative license in casting seems perfectly acceptable. Moreover, several scholars explained online that, though ancient Greeks and Romans certainly noticed skin color, they did not practice systematic racism. They owned slaves, but this population was drawn from a wide range of conquered peoples, including Gauls and Germans.

Nor did the Greeks conceive of race the way we do. [...] Rebecca Futo Kennedy, a classicist at Denison University, who writes on race and ethnicity, told me, “Cold weather made you stupid but also courageous, so that was what people from the Far North were supposed to be like. And the people they called Ethiopians were thought of as very smart but cowardly. It comes out of the medical tradition [of the Hippocratic humours]. In the North, you have plenty of thick blood. Whereas, in the South, you’re being desiccated by the sun, and you have to think about how to conserve your blood.”

Pale skin on a woman was considered a sign of beauty and refinement, because it showed that she was privileged enough not to have to work outdoors. But a man with pale skin was considered unmasculine: bronzed skin was associated with the heroes who fought on battlefields and competed as athletes, naked, in amphitheatres.

[...] Tim Whitmarsh, a professor of Greek culture at the University of Cambridge, writes that the Greeks “would have been staggered” by the suggestion that they were “white.” Not only do our modern notions of race clash with the thinking of the ancient past; so do our terms for colors, as is clear to anyone who has tried to conceive what a “wine-dark sea” actually looked like.

[...]

On the website Pharos, which was founded [...] in part to counter white-supremacist interpretations of the ancient world, a recent essay notes, “Although there is a persistent, racist preference for lighter skin over darker skin in the contemporary world, the ancient Greeks considered darker skin” for men to be “more beautiful and a sign of physical and moral superiority.”

[In 2017], high-school students participating in a summer program at the RISD Museum, in Providence, were so fascinated to learn about polychromy in classical statuary that they made a coloring book allowing gallery visitors to create brightly hued versions of the objects on display.

Christina Alderman, who runs the program, told me, “The moment they found out that the statues were originally painted, I just lost them to that idea. They were, like, ‘Wait, are you serious? I’ve played video games set in ancient times, and all I see are white sculptures. I watch movies and that’s all I see.’ It was a real human response—they kind of felt they’d been lied to.”

A marble head of a deity wearing a Dionysiac fillet, from the first century A.D. Traces of red pigment remain on the lips, eyes, and fillet. Marco Leona, who runs the scientific-research department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, said the fact that ancient statues were once painted is “like the best-kept secret that’s not even a secret.” - Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art

A bust of a young African boy, sculpted in the first century B.C. Ancient sculptures of African people were often made of basalt and painted with reddish-brown layers to create a lifelike effect. Mahogany-colored paint is still visible on the boy’s face. - Courtesy Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg

/endofextract

[I edited this blog post to provide a definition of polychromy and fix a couple of typos. - May 3, 2024]

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konstantin-resch-fanpage · 1 year

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𝐦𝟎𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

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Beach day with @konstantin.i.am

Show some love!

#model #malemodel #malebeauty #body #muscle #physique #abs #sixpack #stavroschristodoulou #portrait #gym #nature #legs #muscles #fitness

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- Age: 35 (25/04/88)

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𝘽𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨:

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the fan page of Konstantin Resch (here; The Boss) @konstantin.i.am Model, photographer, trainer and Brutally perfect

This is the fan page for @konstantin.i.am

He is not responsible for the comments, opinions etc .. of this page that is subject to @konstantin.i.am and will retract, act or apologize if @Konstantin.i.am considers it so

This page will always respect, abide by and obey the decisions, orders and directives of @konstantin.i.am

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You have all the links and information of the Boss in the link of the biography of his fan page: @konstantin.resch.fanpage

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styles-harriet · 4 months

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Will be available on ao3 soon

Uptight fashion photographer Aven Roberts prides herself on staying professional.

Until she meets model Jin Nakamura for a shoot.

His smoldering looks and endless charm instantly get under her skin in ways she can't shake.

Unexpectedly pulled into his world of reckless indulgence, the blazing chemistry between them combusts.

But was this just a random attraction ? Or the spark of something dangerously addictive?

Part 1

"Snap out of it, Aven. This is just another shoot, just another model," I muttered to myself as I arranged the camera equipment. But even as I said the words, I knew this particular booking was going to test my professionalism.

Jin Nakamura was the latest internet sensation in the fashion world. The Japanese-British model had been explosively signed after some candid beach shots of his ripped physique made the rounds online and his appearance on Love Island dating show had made quite the impact. People shipped him hard with the girl he was dating on the show but when their breakups were announced and he was on the market, it somehow raised the demand for him.Now every apparel brand wanted a piece of him on their campaigns and mainstream success seemed inevitable.

I took a steadying breath as I saw him enter the studio, trying not to gawk like a fangirl. The photos and videos didn't lie - Jin was a true specimen in the flesh. His warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he flashed a bright, welcoming smile. Tousled dark locks fell across his forehead in that perfectly imperfect way. The tight vintage rock t-shirt he wore struggled to contain his broad, muscular chest and shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and slim hips.

"Aven Roberts?The photographer?" he asked as he approached, extending his hand. I nodded dumbly for a moment before finding my words.

"Y-Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jin. I'm a big..." I cringed internally at what I'd almost blurted out. "That is, I've admired your work."

He let out a rich chuckle that danced delightfully across my nerves. "The pleasure is all mine, trust me. I requested you personally for this shoot after seeing your previous work. Your photographs have such an effortless cool vibe to them."

I felt my cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. Get it together, Av. "Well, thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. I'll do my best to capture your...essence today."

"I have no doubt," he replied easily with a wink.

Just then, Dana from the modeling agency arrived to go over the plan for the day's swimwear shoot. As the lead producer, she outlined the different looks and settings we'd be doing - from few formal suits to casual beachwear looks to athletic action shots and even some figure studies and portraits mixed in. Jin would be the solo talent but the agency hoped to highlight his versatility across different active scenarios and environments.

"Sounds like my kind of workout," Jin quipped with a roguish grin. "Bringing the heat in every sense of the word."

I rolled my eyes in what I hoped was a premature rebuff to any inappropriate thoughts. "Just make sure to hydrate well, Mr. Nakamura. It's going to be a grueling day."

The shoot began with Jin doing some simple warmup moves while I grabbed some candids during the initial stretching and prep. My camera clicked away as I tried to remain focused despite his physique being even more impressively cut than I'd imagined. Toned pectorals shaped by deep grooves, cobblestone abdominals that could have been used as a washboard, and sinewy limbs covered in a paper-thin sheen of perspiration - this man's body was undeniably built for ogling.

But I was a professional, damn it. I'd worked with ripped fitness models before, plenty of times over my decade-plus career. There was nothing new here that should be phasing me, no matter how...cut...this particular specimen happened to be.

"How're those pipes treating you, Aven?" Dana's voice broke into my thoughts. "Getting some killer frames?"

I realized I'd been a bit too zoned out and quickly checked my camera's display, hoping she couldn't read the look on my face.

"Uhh, yep, all good here," I replied, a little flustered. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jin's knowing smirk and fought the urge to visibly squirm. Get. It. Together.

We started with a couple of formal shoots, his tanned complexion contrasting with the dark teal blazer and black T shirt and black trousers, or was it a turquoise blazer ? I don’t know, all I could focus on was how good he looked. The fit suit him, formal with a dash of casual, just like him, professional but also a bit cheeky and humorous.

From there, we transitioned into the main set where the swimwear looks would be captured. The studio had been artfully dressed to mimic a high-end beach club scene - stylized wicker furniture, plush cabana lounge setups, sunken fire pits, and even a small tiled pool for setting effects.

Jin emerged for his first look decked out in a pair of classic navy swim trunks that contrasted strikingly against his lightly tanned skin. The cut was minimal but still leaving just enough to the imagination. Paired with the casual unbuttoned shirt left open to reveal his chiseled torso, it made for an ensemble that was both clean and coverable yet still utterly smoldering.

"Lookin' good, Nakamura," Dana nodded in approval. "Giving off major Bali resort vibes with that whole laid-back but luxury feel."

Jin responded with an easy laugh and casual shrug of his broad shoulders. "What can I say? It's an inherent talent to look this criminally vacationy at all times."

I cleared my throat to prevent myself from visibly reacting to his playful banter. Focus, Aven, .You're the consummate professional here.

As Jin got situated on the wicker framed daybed, I began walking through potential angles and poses for the setup. "For these first ones, I want you to almost look like you've just woken up at the cabana. Relaxed, a bit disheveled but still smoldering, if you catch my drift?"

He gave me a roguish wink. "Oh, I've got smoldering bedhead down to an art form, just you wait."

I felt my cheeks warm slightly at his teasing tone but pressed on. "Maybe have one knee cocked up, an arm behind your head, really make those ab lines pop..."

Without missing a beat, Jin arranged himself into the pose, drawing one knee up and letting the other leg extend out long. He propped an elbow up on the plush cushion and ran his free hand through his perfectly tousled hair in an exaggerated motion.

"How's this, Aven? Giving you pangs of thirst already?"

I could sense Dana stifling a laugh nearby at Jin's brazen flirtation, but I wasn't going to take the bait that easily. Two could play at this game.

"Hmm, not quite," I replied, keeping my tone even and unaffected. I stepped up close to adjust the angle of his arm slightly, letting my arm graze against the warm skin of his bicep and shoulder as I did so. "Maybe lose the smart-ass pout and give me something a little more...hungry?"

Jin's eyes widened somewhat at my return barb but he didn't break character, merely letting his lips part slightly and dragging his gaze slowly up and down my body for a heated moment before turning his face back towards the camera with a sultry look that made my mouth go dry.

Yeah...that's the stuff, I admitted inwardly. Suddenly feeling almost dizzy, I retreated a few steps and ducked behind my viewfinder to prevent him from seeing any hint of a blush creeping into my cheeks.

"Okay awesome, let's get a few like that," I managed in a level tone. "Then we'll reset for the next vignette."

For the next couple of hours, Jin and I danced back and forth in our roles, him amping up the smolder and seductive attitude while I struggled to maintained a professional detachment that was growing more difficult by the moment. We captured him lounging by the poolside, faux-sipping margaritas and mimicking playful splashes. We moved into an athlete's workout room set where he donned skintight compression shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top for action poses and physique figure studies that left little to the imagination. At one point, he even shed his shirt and flexed shirtless, per my direction, before the fan blowing on him to create movement and make those defined abdominals absolutely pop off the camera sensor.

To his credit, Jin stayed locked in and brought an impressive level of focus to each setup and change of wardrobe. But the longer we worked together, the more he seemed to consciously push me with his little teasing quips and heated looks that made me feel like I was melting behind the safety of my lens. By the time we got to the athletic action poses that had him dripping with simulated sweat and moisture, I was struggling to formulate coherent thoughts.

"You're looking pretty flushed there, Av," Dana observed with a bemused expression. "Need to take a quick break and... cool off?"

I shot her a warning glare, knowing she was reveling in watching me get so frazzled. Taking a beat, I composed myself before looking back towards Jin.

"Five minutes, big guy? Get a drink, dry off, then we'll power through that athletic series."

Jin dragged a towel slowly across his forehead and snaked it down over the ridges of his neck and shoulders, leaving his tanned skin glistening. "Anything for you, Aven. Though I have to admit, the heat is rather...intense," Jin remarked, dragging the towel tantalizingly down his sculpted abdomen.

I felt my breath catch in my throat at his blatantly suggestive words and movements. Clearly he knew exactly what he was doing to push my buttons at this point. Taking a steadying breath, I raised an eyebrow in an attempt to maintain my unflustered exterior.

"I'm sure you're more than capable of handling yourself, Mr. Nakamura," I replied evenly. "But if not, I can arrange for a bucket of ice water to be dumped over you."

The smug look on his face morphed into one of surprised respect at my retort. Rather than firing back, he merely gave an acknowledging dip of his chin before turning away to grab his water bottle, the muscles of his back rippling enticingly.

Get a grip, Av, I chided myself. You're acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, not a professional. This kind of charged back-and-forth was all part of Jin's game, and I couldn't let myself get so easily flustered.

When he rejoined me a few minutes later, I was determined to reassert control over the situation and dynamic. Directing him into a staggered series of high-intensity athletic poses - lunging, air kicks and punches, dynamic abdominal twists - I pushed Jin hard to capture the raw power and aggression beneath that skillfully toned exterior.

"Give me more intensity! I want to see that fire!" I called out, circling him to capture every angle. "You're a warrior out here, an unstoppable force of nature! Don't hold anything back!"

Jin's eyes narrowed to laser-like focus, sweat already beading across his brow and shoulders as he executed each movement with rigid precision and coiled strength. The muscles of his arms, chest and abs clenched and flexed like a panther ready to strike as he heated up into the routine.

Growling out ragged breaths with each successive lunge and strike, Jin fully embodied the ferocious energy of a primal hunter that I demanded of him in that moment. And I was devouring every explosive second of it through my viewfinder, feeling my own body temperature spiking higher.

"Yes! That's it!" I heard myself cry out uncharacteristically amid a series of shutter bursts. "Gimme that raw, savage power! Show me your true animal!"

Jin's nostrils flared as he met my commanding words with a fiery look of determined intensity. Pushing himself into a handstand, he launched into a series of staggeringly chiseled one-armed push-ups, the corded tension of his biceps, shoulders, and abdomen pulling taut like an uncoiled panther.

I felt an involuntary whimper escape my lips at the sheer virile display, scarcely able to tear my eyes away from the camera lens that strained to capture every explosive muscle convulsion, every bulging sinew under glistening skin.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I had circled around to where Jin was still furiously working through the push-up set. Saying nothing, I extended one foot and pressed it against his sculpted abs, testing their rigid tensile strength as he powered up and down with each rep.

Jin's eyes snapped up towards the sudden pressure, scorching me with a look of searing intensity. Rather than falter at the intimate contact, he merely held my gaze with that burning look and redoubled his exertion with a guttural growl that seemed to reverberate through his entire body.

I bit my lower lip hard, practically panting now at the exhilarating sight and feeling of his unleashed masculinity, all that coiled power and pent-up ferocity roiling so viscerally against my sole. Sweat stung my eyes as I drank in every heaving muscle contraction.

"Aven! Hey Av!" Dana's distant-sounding voice finally cut through the trance-like haze that had fallen over me.

Blinking hard, I turned to see her and the rest of the crew staring at me with bemused expressions. Blood rushed to my face as the realization hit me at what I'd been doing - actually restraining and challenging Jin with my foot against his body during that athletic flurry.

I practically leapt back as if burned, sputtering for words amidst the crimson flush of embarrassment now encompassing me down to my chest. "Oh my god...I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me!" I stammered out.

Jin, breathing hard but a self-satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, merely flexed his glistening abdominals once more before pushing himself up to stand. He took a long, deliberate swig of water, letting his eyes roam over me boldly.

"No need to apologize,"

The next couple of setups were even more strenuous tests of my rapidly fraying composure. We transitioned to a faux marine environment, where Jin wore a pair of obscenely tiny, clinging swim briefs as he splashed around shirtless in the waist-deep water tank. Capturing his taut physique glistening with rivulets of water as he whipped his hair back was like crafting living sculptures of heroic masculine beauty.

At one point he locked eyes with me, skimming his hands up over his drenched torso and giving an exaggerated stretch that made his abdominal muscles ripple and contort. The smirk he wore made it clear he knew exactly how he was affecting me behind the camera lens.

"You sure you've got enough... material here, Aven?" he asked, voice dripping with faux innocence. "Maybe take a few steps closer for some tighter framing?"

Struggling to keep my countenance, I simply raised an eyebrow at his transparent attempt to fluster me yet again. Two could play at that game.

"Oh, I'm quite satisfied with my angles, Jin," I replied calmly. "Though if you need motivation to give me some bigger... movements and extensions, I could have the crew hose you down more thoroughly?"

His mouth curved into an impressed grin at my brazen pushback before giving a small shake of his head. Spinning around, he launched into an explosive series of high-kicking actions that made his powerful legs slice through the water in slow-motion cuts and arcs.

The final looks of the day involved Jin modeling the latest line of athletic boxer-briefs that strained against his powerful musculature. Clinging sheaths of Performance fabric sculpting every crevice and ridge of his body, leaving little to the imagination. At one point he was directed to mime a series of calisthenic movements - crunches, leg raises, etc - his member straining against the confines of the fabric with each contraction.

To my credit, I managed to maintain filmmaking focus and direct Jin through each movement without turning into a total flustered mess. Though by the time we wrapped for the day, I was undoubtedly flushed and likely in need of a long, cold beverage.

"And that's a wrap folks, incredible work today!" Dana called out to the team. "Jin, you were simply stupendous as always.Aven, I think you broke a new record for most ... artistic devotion I've ever seen from you!"

I shot her a withering look, making a mental note to stop sharing any personal details or gossip with my longtime friend and producer. If I was being honest with myself, I knew full well she was taking immense pleasure in watching me get so delightfully riled up and flustered during this particular shoot

As the crew began striking the set and packing up gear, I busied myself with downloading and backing up my footage cards while trying to steady my thoughts. Despite my arguably distracted demeanor, I knew I'd gotten a incredibly strong batch of images and video to work with. Jin's modeling prowess was even more impressive and captivating in person.

"Need a hand, Aven?"

The rich timbre of that distinctive voice made me jump slightly. I turned to see Jin standing beside my workstation, clad in a simple white tank and athletic shorts with a towel draped around his neck. His tousled hair was still slightly damp and the fabric of his shirt did little to hide the contours of his physique.

"Oh, um, no thanks," I replied quickly, trying not to stare. "I'm just about wrapped up on my end. Incredible work today, by the way. You have an amazing...presence in front of the camera."

He flashed me that sparkling smile that no doubt melted hearts across the globe. "Well, I had an amazing photographer helping me tap into those...primal instincts we wanted to capture."

I felt heat rushing to my cheeks at his words, instantly replaying the memory of pressing my foot against his tensed abdominals during that intensely physical photoshoot sequence. Of all the stupid, unprofessional things I could have done...

"Also, I wanted to see if you'd maybe like to grab a drink?" Jin continued in an almost casual tone. "I could use someone to rundown the Lightroom processing tips for these shots. You know, eke out every last...contour and detail possible." He punctuated the statement with a weighted pause and meaningful look.

I felt my cheeks flush even hotter at his blatantly suggestive double meaning. He really wasn't being subtle at all with his intentions now. Part of me wanted to fire back some sort of quick, dismissive remark to deflect his forwardness. But another part, one I was fighting harder and harder to suppress, felt an undeniable spark of thrilled excitement at his probing flirtations.

Regaining my composure, I let out a small laugh and shook my head. "While I appreciate you wanting to...extract every ounce of potential from this shoot, I think I'll be able to achieve that just fine on my own, Jin."

He gave an impressed dip of his chin, not even attempting to hide the admiring look he was giving me. "You're one tough nut to crack, Aven Roberts.”

"Well, I do pride myself on being a consummate professional," I replied evenly, holding his gaze. "But I also know how to loosen up and have fun when the job is done."

One corner of his mouth quirked up knowingly. "Is that so? Do tell..."

I opened my mouth to respond but was interrupted by Dana calling out from across the studio. "Av, You need any help finished breaking things down?"

Grateful for the interruption, I waved her off. "No, I'm just about wrapped up over here. Go ahead and take off!

Looking back at Jin, I gave an exaggerated stretch and groaned loudly, letting my arms extend up over my head which inadvertently made my snug t-shirt ride up and expose a tight strip of toned midriff.

"You know, all this studio work has me feeling pretty cooped up," I remarked, feigning nonchalance. "I could actually go for some fresh air and a walk around the neighborhood when I'm done."

Jin visibly perked up at this, running an appreciative look over the newly exposed sliver of my abdomen before meeting my gaze again. "Well, I'd be more than happy to provide a...personal escort and guided tour if you'd like? Make sure you burn off all those excessive energies properly?"

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning at his laughably unsubtle attempt to prolong our time together. Though I had to admit, the thought of spending more casual, unstructured time with this devilishly charming model was an undeniably tantalizing prospect.

"You know what?" I said, unable to keep a faint smile from playing across my lips now. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, Jin. It would be rude of me to reject such a gracious tour guide, wouldn't it?"

The brilliant smile he flashed made it clear I'd given him exactly the response he'd been angling for. "It would be my absolute pleasure, Aven, I'll go grab us a couple of waters for the journey."

As he turned and headed off to locate some bottled waters, I felt my gaze linger perhaps a bit too longingly on the backside view of his snug athletic shorts stretched tightly over his toned glutes. Giving an inward shake of my head, I quickly refocused on packing up the last of my equipment.

What was I getting myself into here? This was so unlike my typical boundaries of professionalism. But there was just something effortlessly magnetic about Jin's presence, that captivating blend of exotic good looks, easy charm and confidence. Getting flustered on set was one thing, but actually agreeing to spend extra one-on-one time with him felt like wading into dangerous territory.

Then again, when was the last time I'd allowed myself to truly let loose and have fun with shameless flirtation? It had been far too long since I'd experienced that giddy thrill of potential chemistry and seeing where it could lead.

By the time Jin returned with the waters, my gear was securely packed away. He gave a small whistle as he extended one of the bottles towards me.

"Well don't you look ready to hit the town? All recharged and replenished I'd say..."

I laughed and shook my head as I accepted the bottle from his grasp, riding a small tingle at the light brushing of his fingertips. "Hardly. Just awaiting my guided neighborhood tour as promised."

"Then let's be on our way," Jin replied with a roguish grin, gesturing towards the studio's exit. "The evening is young and there's so much of the city I want to show you, Aven."

Fighting a fresh blush at his suggestive choice of words, I gave him a playful nudge with my elbow and strode ahead, forcing him to follow my lead. Something told me that with Jin, I'd be needing to stay one step ahead whenever possible...

———— Short part 1 just to set the plot but part 2 which is MUCH longer and will have the actual date scene will be released tomorrow! It’s a two shot fanfic ———-

A/N - AHHHH my first ever Litg fanfic one shot is finally here !!! I had this plot on the drafts for so long but I wanted to finish the art for cover page and then post it!!

Ngl, my mind is being taken up by that LITG pride month fanfic challenge, I immediately knew who i want as my lovers, i have the plot in mind. It might exceed a three shot, it's definitely exceeding the word limit tbh.

Two hints. Bradford meets Bath

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