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blushing-starker · 3 years

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Of sleeping angels and forgetful lovers

im back y'all, enjoy

Tony slips between the billowing curtains, careful to make his arrival as silent as possible: there is an angel slumbering just a few feet away and God help whoever awakens them with anything less than a kiss and sweet murmurs.

Not wanting to be struck down by another celestial deity twice in a millennia, he carefully maneuvers around the scattered objects on the marble floor; a low table straining under the weight of scrolls, thick manuscripts and what honestly seems to be a stone tablet; a few chests clumsily tipped over, gold, silk and fragrance oil bottles spilling from them luxuriously. Surprisingly enough, Tony has to avoid staining four lace dresses thrown on the floor.

Poor thing. Any admirer of the creature basking inside this chamber should have known better. It's an insult to even suggest a holy being should disgrace themselves by wearing anything lesser than silk or pure gossamer. Ignorant gnat is probably swimming in the underground by now.

Still. It would be rude to tarnish a gift that isn't his to rip apart and incinerate. His lover would take pleasure in doing that himself. So he moves his body to the side, inhaling sharply when the wind shifts a garment closer to his dusty lower half. Oh, he'd get back at the wind god after this.

To honestly believe he's ancient and unable to persevere under the childish attack, how ridiculous. The offending yard and a half of pink lace (angels tended to take up more space than human minds could comprehend, but the ones who liked to roam the Earth often diminished their size; his paramour would never dress in something that large with an altered body. He's self conscious of his low stature as it is.) flies overhead and he muffles a snicker. Asshole wind god can't calculate how much strength to use.

Finally, he's at the bed. Home at last. And then the wind blasts through the chamber and he picks up the smell. Dried blood, decomposing flesh, something musky and tangible in the air. After that comes the sound. A deep rasp, powerful and similarly fear inducing as a lightning storm amidst the sea. It's a warning growl Tony had ignored, once, an uncountable number of years before. He counts them now, hastily and quickly, because surely his nemesis has grown tired and. Well. Not slow, but certainly slower in that long expanse of time. Just as he had. Fuck.

The beast appears, a vengeful mass of writhing smoke and viridescent ash hovering near the side of the bed he's currently trapped against. His lover disliked it when he brought war to the chamber, said it reminded him of harsher times and a dying Tony; he had left his knives and whip with his second in command, had gone so far for his beloved as to purge the poison from his body. (Listen. Listen. A shit ton of years past, a moron tried to eat him. Actually hoisted him on a spit before he woke up and strangled the fucker. So what if he has poison coursing through his veins to defend himself, it's not that nonsensical.)

From the grey and green smoke, a dark head emerges. And another. And another. And four fucking others and why hadn't his lover mentioned anything, why hadn't he warned Tony of the very amused looking, incredibly spiteful monster currently hissing at him? He has no arms here, the chamber's strongest weapon was currently dozing on a six feet wide bed, soft snores muffled against fluffy pillows. Oh, if his father could see him now, facing death at the hands of his enemy rather than bring his partner back from the golden fields of dreams.

Technically, he's facing the many headed beast in favor of facing his darling, a much more wrathful creature, but his father need not know that.

Death looms closer, is rearing its ugly heads and flaunting the seven inch fangs that will most likely shred him to pieces. There are ruby droplets splattered on the neck of the monster and ah, there's the ignorant admirer. At least he won't be devoured hungrily. Granted, he will definitely be devoured slowly and tortuously no matter what.

As his vision is swarmed by the huge monstrosity, Tony thinks of his beloved. Of his soft, brown hair. A little long, a little curly and always brushed aside uselessly. (There is one lock he particularly enjoys playing with because it never grows enough to be tucked back. It often annoys his lover, but he adores that stray curl.) Soft cheeks, tinted rosy during the chilly winters, a healthy tan when summer sweeps in. Lips softer and more colorful than a rose. Dimples. They appear and he's tripping in love all over, stumbling after his lover's affection just to see the two indentations on the side of his mouth.

His body is a masterpiece, graceful and as elegant as a star. Tony adores subtle, enjoys the fine curve of his paramour's neck, takes pride in making shapely thighs tremble beneath his worshipful mouth, is set on fire when the sweetest sighs and loveliest moans slip from bruised lips. All he needs in this life is to bring happiness to his companion. And, he supposes, he has, so death won't be a complete tragedy. Although, Tony would have liked to see his beloved's eyes one last time. They shone like amber, like the heady drink the humans call whiskey.

Once, when he was shy and his darling was unsure of his intentions, he had blurted out a confession under an apple tree, words spilling, spilling, going so fast that breath abandoned his chest.

"Your eyes are like star fire. Like the sun left the sky to shine inside you. It's amazing, something so beautiful I can believe in life again. How could I not when someone as lovely as you exists so gracefully?"

They had stood there, tree branches creaking overhead, leaves drifting down slowly and bees sluggishly swimming through the air in search of flowers and the ichor of life. His companion had blinked at him and then smiled, slow and sweet and pure. Whatever breath remained in his lungs was stolen, vanished without a trace. Tony had been a goner ever since.

He thinks of that time now and discovers that he is not afraid of death. After all, his lover could simply visit him in the fields of the dead, what, with being the Angel of Death, and everything.

The hydra leans back, prepares the killing blow and he thinks, Peter.

A whisper of movement, the growl of the beast; he's ready, he's going to meet his fate head on and not falter and-

A warm hand scoops him up. He tentatively opens his eyes, is met by a bleary pair much prettier than those this body has. There is amusement there, tangled with fondness and love. It's such a beautiful sight that he melts, sinks deeper into the cradle holding him up to Peter's pillow marked face. He always had a thing for his lover's hands; they could kill with just a hint of touch, but they only ever brought Tony to life.

"Anthony," oh, to hear that teasing sigh, to be given the gift of that music, "did you forget you were in your snake body again?"

Embarrassed, he dips his head, agile tongue flickering into the air to taste Peter's affection as a distraction from the flush valiantly trying to survive in his cool cheeks. The angel before him giggles, grins at him before stroking his scaly head gently.

"You forgot about your body and the fact that Milos here is, like, three inches smaller than you when you stand up?" Tony grumbles, slithers across Peter's wrist and forearm. His lover just sighs, rolls over in bed and lets him travel all the way up to the base of a long neck. He loves Peter's entire body, of course, but this is the perfect spot to settle into while he's in this form. Lightly, because it's rude to tease him, goddammit, he's the fallen angel, not a stable boy, he nips at Peter's hair, pulls at a few strands until Peter halfheartedly swats at him.

"Just because I can revive you doesn't mean I won't kill you, Tones. I've got a hundred," his beloved yawns, drags a blanket over the both of them, "and fifty four souls to pick up in the afternoon. I can squeeze you in among them and nobody would know." A lie, obviously. His best friend James would know. The rest is true, Peter would kill him if he called on him again while it was nap time, even if it was an accident.

Thing is, now that Milos is brooding in the corner of the bedchamber and some good ten feet away from him, Tony has no need to call on his angel. Why would he, when he's right by his side? Just as he always has. Just as he always will.

With snake lives saved and fates changed, the first fallen angel and the Angel of Death fall into a deep slumber; tail and hands wrapped around each other, as it should be.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #angel!peter #fallen angel!tony #sweet and fluffy yall #sophie writes #i need to at least write one #snake!tony #for the giggles

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seacottons · 4 years

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uni!au with ateez — [ part one ]

—[ san - performing arts ]

ironically, you met when you helped him after a taller male shoved him down whilst in a heated argument.

he burst out laughing when you asked if he was okay.

“don’t worry, we’re just practicing our lines!”

you quickly glanced up at the building and grimaced once taking sight of the gleaming silver ‘performing arts building’ plaque.

of course.

to say you were embarrassed was only scratching the surface.

you had no regrets, because the incident was the catalyst that formed your friendship and eventual relationship.

will never let you live that moment down.

“remember when you tried to save me from mingi?”

“i thought we promised not to bring that up again-”

“why can’t i? i was saved by an angel that day?”

san invites you to both his dance and theatre shows.

will appear to be very professional on stage, but you catch his eyes frantically darting to the crowd to try and spot you.

and once he does, he will repeatedly smile and wink in your direction.

you’re always early, so you manage to snag a seat in either front two rows.

likes when you bring him bouquets as a congratulation gift after his performances.

gets very loud backstage just to let everyone know you bought him a gift.

a huge show-off.

is very good at facial expressions.

you fall for every time he pretends he’s crying or hurt when you don’t give him attention.

he will imitate different characters and repeat after actors while you two watch movies together.

“it sounded sexier when i said it, right (y/n)?”

is a very clingy cuddle bug.

and a leech.

will always have his arms around you while walking at campus.

loves to give you back hugs.

is the type to wait outside for you until you finish class.

and takes you to the cafeteria afterwards for lunch.

embarrasses you in said cafeteria by spinning the lunch tray while waiting in line.

also likes to spin your phone just to freak you out.

also the type to excitedly text you about the donuts and coffee they’re giving away at the library’s breezeway.

likes to refer to you as ‘angel’.

will beg you join the different clubs he’s in.

and then brag about you to the others once you do.

will hype your choice of attire even if he’s already seen you earlier that day.

the type to also sneak you a latte in the middle of your class.

also the type to sneak in with you during your auditorium classes.

you regret it sometimes because he leaves no room for you to pay attention to your professor.

often times, so much so that you have to lightly pinch his side in protest.

“do you want me to fail this class?”

he likes to participate in the many events held at campus.

everyone knows him.

challenges you to dance offs in the middle of campus.

you refuse and push forward a startled mingi instead.

“mingi wants to have a turn this time!”

also likes to lay in your arms whilst you play with his hair.

“were you a cat in your previous life?”

he will then proceed to meow in your ear.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

—[ hongjoong - fashion design ]

dating him would consist of always admiring his new projects.

supplying him with unhealthy amounts of coffee.

trying out new pieces he made.

offering to carry his overly large portfolio binder sometimes.

sitting down and listening to him rant about how his roomates fail to wash clothes properly.

he has a guide taped to the washing machine with the different symbols of clothing labels.

“no, san, you can’t use shampoo as detergent.”

“but seonghwa finished all the detergent!”

using seonghwa’s lint rollers to remove all the fabric fibers stuck on hongjoong’s clothes.

you scold him while cleaning the bleeding scratches on his fingers from his sewing needles and pins.

“don’t worry, it’s nothing i can’t handle.”

“but i don’t like seeing you get hurt, you bum.”

you bought him strawberry bandaids because he thought they were cute.

sometimes, when he has time, he’ll custom make clothes just for you.

he insists on having multiple matching outfits.

will ask you to model his work for his social media page.

thinks you look best in skirts.

you’ll be the source of comfort during presentation week.

he’ll be a wreck whilst making a new collection.

but you’re always there to pick him back up.

most of the time, you’re the source of his inspiration as well.

you insist he shouldn’t sit for hours writing essays or sketching numerous ideas for future work.

but he’s stubborn as a mule.

nights with him include binge watching fashion shows or cute cartoons.

or painting your nails.

you both enjoy coffee dates when you have time.

he tells you he wants to open a fashion line one day.

you’re trying to stand still as he plucks numerous pins into the dress you’re trying on.

“what do you think i should call it?”

“hj couture? does that sound too basic?”

he pauses momentarily before spooling the leftover red thread.

“(y/n). i’ll call the line (y/n).”

—[ wooyoung - culinary arts ]

invites you to his dorm and cooks for you.

his apartment always smells of warm spices and comforting meals.

pretends his roommates’ teasing doesn’t affect him, but the tips of ears always glow red.

will always bring over leftovers he made in class.

“i just thought you wanted to try this mille feuille.”

“which one is better? the salted rosemary loaf or the oregano and olive oil one?”

loves to bake and cook with you.

will make your birthday cake from scratch and will go all out decorating it.

has an annoying habit of taking pictures of you mid-bite.

“delete that right now.”

“but babe, you look so cute.”

“jung wooyoung!”

will wrestle with you as you attempt to take his phone away.

“okay, look! i swear i’ll delete it!”

he saves it in a hidden folder.

calls you his ‘cupcake’ or ‘sugarplum’.

teases you nonstop when you fail at something in the kitchen.

“babe! no! gentle folds! you pulverized those poor blueberries!”

“but the instructions say to mix!”

“the dough isn’t supposed to be blue!”

he’ll whine nonstop about how much he hates baking bread in class.

“do you know how abnoxiously long the fermentation process is!? i’m losing my mind.”

will wave and yell your name to catch your attention if he spots you nearby at campus.

you hear him every time.

he’s just that loud.

drags you to new restaurants just so you can rate them with him.

also drags you to go cutlery shopping.

accidentally dropped a plate in the store.

and when the employee came sauntering in the aisle suspiciously-

“(y/n) did it.”

once gave you food poisoning by accident.

you never wanted to eat scallops again.

you don’t mind his hands smelling like garlic or ginger most of the time.

or stained with spices.

“turmeric is a bitch.”

“woo, who wears white while cooking with turmeric anyway?”

will show off and brag about his knife skills.

demands to race with you to see who can chop the vegetables the quickest.

“you’re going down, (y/n).”

“uh- i don’t think i ever stood a chance to begin with.”

he lets you win sometimes though.

will beg you to visit him at his part time job at the cute cafe not too far by.

you always try to when you have the time.

and when he finds out you went to the rival cafe across the street one day..

“on a scale of 10 to 10, how bad is kang yeosang’s cooking?”

“what?”

“answer the question, (y/n).”

“woo, it’s 3 a.m.”

the next day, you explained that you were merely invited by your classmates to that particular cafe because one of them was a former employee there.

he childishly ignored you with crossed arms and a subtle pout.

“your jajangmyeon is much better. they didn’t even like the food there!”

he finally perks up with a large smile.

“wait, really?”

you think he looks endearing with his apron and chef’s hat.

will post cheesy captioned pictures of you after serving you delicately decorated plates of food.

‘two delicious meals for tonight, hehe.’

“gross. did you really have to say that?”

—[ jongho - kinesiology ]

you met him at the university gym and instantly clicked.

found yourself months later agreeing to go out with him.

a giant goofball.

sometimes makes faces at you while you exercise across the gym.

makes sure you watch him when he deadlifts.

loves when you hype him up.

opens all the jars for you.

and cuts all the fruit for you.

“why use a knife when you have my hands, love?”

you nearly choked on your saliva when he punched open the watermelon.

“can we ever just have a perfectly sliced watermelon!?”

“no- unless i break my arm one day.”

insists you jog with him around campus early in the morning.

likes to practice wrapping elastic tape on you.

you own half of his hoodies.

takes you to watch basketball matches.

then challenges you to a match when you go on dates to the park.

will persistently tease you about your poor aim.

and will absolutely not let you have the ball for more than a few seconds.

“stop cheating!”

“i’m not cheating! you just suck!”

joined you in some of your elective classes.

will also wear sleeveless shirts because he knows how flustered you get while his sculpted muscles are on display.

“what did professor kim just say?”

“what?” you tore your gaze from his biceps to glance at his face.

“are you staring at my arms again?” he snickers.

“no,” you say too quickly, face heating quite considerably.

despite his teasing, he’ll always baby you and take care of your needs.

has the cutest gummy smile.

you like to call him your gummy bear.

he hated the name at first, but grew to accept it over time.

likes to randomly pick you up.

sometimes will throw you over his shoulder.

has a habit of patting your thighs.

sometimes asks you to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

your eye bulged at the sight of a mop of ruby hair.

“don’t say anything.”

“you like apples so much you dyed your hair red?”

“i lost a bet.”

“you look cute though.”

you tugged at his tresses, smiling as you admired the shade against his tanned skin.

“baby?” you brushed his bangs away to display his forehead.

“hm?”

“you’re the apple of my eye.”

“i’m-,” he sucked on his teeth and pursed his lips, face scrunching in a mock grimace, “i’m going to throw up.”

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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A Thirst Like Flames

Part 6/6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Ship: Gerlion - Rated: E (for smut) - Also on AO3

Rated E - for smutty reasons.

Dandelion shivered as he wrapped his heavy burgundy red cloak around his shoulders. Kaer Morhen had some of the most beautiful views in the continent but it was bloody freezing. It was his first day at the keep and he had yet to meet the other witchers, too exhausted when he’d first arrived, barely conscious as Geralt dragged him through the gates. One bath and a good nap later, he felt more like himself again. If not a little nervous, not too dissimilar to stage fright he’d experience in his youth. His heart felt like it was racing in his chest and his fingers tugged at his clothes, needing something to do.

The sound of his footsteps reverberated in the draft halls, the acoustics just perfect for a performance. Dandelion made a note to bring his lute down to dinner once they’d settled in. Geralt’s family had probably heard of him, maybe even heard his songs through other, less talented, bards, but Geralt was the only witcher from Kaer Morhen that he’d had the pleasure to meet.

And oh it certainly was a pleasure.

The scent of cooking venison filled his nose as he drew closer to the kitchens, making his stomach rumble in anticipation, and he could hear the sounds of laughter.

“Ah, found them,” he cheered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The feathered bonnet that was usually perched on his head had been left behind in Geralt’s room, instead the thick woollen hood was keeping his ears warm, and completely messing up his hair.

Dandelion had hoped that he would look his best when meeting Geralt’s family, but alas the cold had rather scuppered that dream. So, he took a deep breath and held his head up high before entering the room. As expected the witchers fell silent, Geralt’s eyes found his across the room, and it was easy to get lost in his gorgeous golden gaze. Dandelion winked at his witcher before turning to the rest of the room. There were more witchers there than Dandelion had been anticipating. Geralt had only told him about three other remaining Wolf School witchers, Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert. The silver haired witcher resting closest to the fire with a book in his hand was most likely Vesemir. Another golden eyed witcher who bore a striking resemblance to Geralt, aside from the vicious scar that ran across his cheek and his dark brown hair, was probably Eskel. That left a third witcher with golden eyes, who he assumed to be Lambert, and two others. One had long flowing dark brown hair, and startling blue eyes, the other bald with a thick dark beard and green eyes. The latter two both had dark tanned skin that was striking in comparison the chalky white skin of the Wolf witchers.

“Greetings, I am so sorry I’m late. I do hope that Geralt wasn’t too much of a grump without me,” he flashed a charming grin at the occupants of the room.

Lambert burst into fits of laughter and stood up, pulling Dandelion into a tight hug, lifting him off the floor. The air was forced from his lungs and he squeaked as his legs were suddenly dangling in the air, but warmth bloomed in his chest. Lambert was supposed the most prickly out of Geralt’s family, and Dandelion had apparently won him over purely by teasing his own grump of a witcher.

“I like this one, Geralt. He can stay,” Lambert laughed as he dropped Dandelion back to the floor.

“Ah, why thank you, Lambert.”

“Geralt was inconsolable, pacing the floor, pulling his hair out. If he hadn’t already gone grey….”

Geralt growled from the corner which set Lambert off again. “Shut up.”

“Oh bite me,” Lambert snapped back.

“Boys!” The elder witcher, who Dandelion was sure was Vesemir, barked and the two younger wolf witchers fell silent. “We have a guest, try not to act like animals.”

“Well-” Eskel started to say with a crooked grin, “-we are wolves.”

Dandelion giggled and strutted across the room until he reached Geralt’s chair. The seat next to his witcher was vacant but it didn’t matter. Dandelion fell into Geralt’s lap, pressing his lips to his cheek. “I think it’s sweet that you were worried about me, darling. Now then, are you going to introduce me?”

“They know who you are, Dandelion.”

Dandelion scoffed and rolled his eyes, running his hands through Geralt’s hair. It was surprisingly untangled, still soft and well conditioned despite the hike up the mountain. As he carded his fingers through the silver locks, Dandelion could smell the gentle scent of chamomile, the oil that he’d bought for Geralt on their first anniversary before their journey to Kaer Morhen. His usual lavender oil was too strong for Geralt’s heightened sense of smell, but the chamomile was subtle enough and helped to calm the witcher even when he was high on those blasted potions.

He began to separate the strands of Geralt’s hair, fingers working nimbly as he continued to speak. “They may know me, but I am afraid I wasn’t quite in my right mind when I arrived. I only know of your family, dearest, and unless I’m very much mistaken. I’m not the only visitor this year?”

“Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert you know,” Geralt gestured to the golden eyed witchers in turn. “Aiden,” he pointed to the blue-eyed man who had now settled onto the seat next to Lambert and was happily draped across the man’s lap. “Coën.” The green-eyed witcher smiled back at him. “And this is Dandelion, my bard.”

“I am absolutely thrilled to finally get to meet you,” Dandelion cooed at the witchers, not bothering to look at the braid in his hands. He’d done this so many times that he could probably do all but the most complex designs in his sleep. When he wasn’t playing his lute or scribbling away in his notebooks, he often needed something to do with his hands. Otherwise he felt restless. Geralt had noticed and suggested the braids. Dandelion had tried, and was still trying, to get his witcher to let him curl his hair, but Geralt was being stubborn about it. “Geralt has told me so much about you,” he lied.

Eskel chuckled. “That would be a first.”

“And probably a last too,” Lambert agreed.

“Fuck off,” Geralt grumbled and Dandelion giggled, poking his witcher’s nose with one elegant long finger.

“Be nice to your brothers, Geralt-” he chided before brushing his lips against Geralt’s ear, “-or else we won’t get to enjoy that fantastically large bed of yours later.”

The other witchers in the room all groaned, just as Dandelion had suspected they might, but he played innocent and smiled brightly up at them all, launching into a tirade of questions to divert their attention. Kaer Morhen was fascinating and Dandelion wanted to know everything! He was particularly curious as to why there were two witchers from other schools in the keep. There was just so much potential in just this one room! Dandelion’s reputation as the White Wolf’s bard and poet was about to get a makeover, he would be the barker for witchers everywhere!

The evening passed in merriment, music and mirth. Wine and liquor were spilled, and the roast venison was simply to die for. Dandelion kept a hand on Geralt at all times, in his hair, resting on his thigh, his arm, his shoulder. After a year together, Dandelion still couldn’t quite believe that he was allowed to love this beautiful, kind and generous man, and that he was loved in return, but Geralt showed his love and devotion every day.

It wasn’t poetry and roses like Dandelion was used to, but it was Geralt’s own unique language of love that Dandelion delighted in learning, and he’d always been a quick study.

No, Geralt’s love was more heartfelt than any superficial trinkets or flowers that would die. It was woven into the very essence of Dandelion’s lute, each note the instrument played, every word that fell from his lips. The love shone in the stars above their camp as they cuddled together for warmth, Dandelion’s chest pressed to Geralt’s back as their limbs tangled together. It was in the breath of each kiss, the swing of his swords.

Geralt’s love was all encompassing and it was his.

Or perhaps he was merely a poet in love.

What did it matter? The result was the same. They were happy together, despite the darkness in the world around them, there was light, like the flames that danced in the hearth as Vesemir began to snore.

Dandelion sighed, rubbing his nose along Geralt’s jaw and kissing his neck. “Time for bed, my love?”

Geralt grunted and swept Dandelion up into his arms. The world spun and Dandelion squeaked as he hurried to fling his arms around Geralt’s neck, not that he thought Geralt would drop him, but, well, it was always better to be safe, and it gave him an excellent excuse to continue kiss the pale skin of Geralt’s neck. The bruises never lasted more than an hour but it didn’t mean that Dandelion couldn’t try. He giggled as he nipped at the skin below the witcher’s ear.

“Would you two get a room?” Lambert groaned.

“Oi,” Aiden swatted his boyfriend over the head, “don’t be a spoilsport, we could always watch.”

Dandelion winked at the Cat witcher, making Lambert flush a deep red. “Out!” he barked.

“With pleasure,” Geralt chuckled, carrying Dandelion through the halls and back up to their room.

It didn’t take them long to disrobe, lips moving in slow languid kisses as they caressed and touched and held each other close. Dandelion’s fingers hooked under the chain of Geralt’s medallion, the only item left between them, and he held the silver wolf in his hand before kissing the cold metal. The witcher shivered as the medallion once again rested on his chest and Dandelion moved on to kiss the pale pink scars that covered his shoulders.

“I love you, dearest Geralt,” Dandelion hummed, and Geralt’s finger hooked under his chin, lifting his head so their lips once again met in a soft kiss.

They’d made love before, but this was Geralt’s room, not some shit-hole of an inn, or in the exposed elements of nature’s forests. This was a home, more importantly, it was Geralt’s home, and he was honoured to finally be a part of it. There was a whole new level of intimacy which warmed Dandelion’s heart, like the sun rising over the horizon, flowers blooming in the spring and fluttering cries of the birds to bring in each new day.

Geralt lifted him up, carrying him towards the bed and Dandelion could feel the anticipation, lust and arousal begin to cloud his mind in a dizzying haze. His witcher was looking at him with the utmost adoration and oh did that make his heart sing. As his back hit the mattress, Geralt stopped and stared at him, a calloused finger brushing against his cheek. It was almost too much, burning in its intensity.

Dandelion let out a nervous giggle, leaning into his lover’s touch. “What is it, my dear?”

Geralt just shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Poppycock,” Dandelion declared, reaching up to capture Geralt’s lips in a quick kiss. “Tell me, darling.”

“You look beautiful.”

Dandelion felt himself blush. His hair was fanned out behind his head and he was sure his face was the colour of the sweetest roses but he was nothing extraordinary, certainly nothing that Geralt hadn’t seen before. Yet this fire that burned between them felt entirely new, and his witcher’s expression was so tender, so heartfelt.

“You look beautiful,” Dandelion echoed, and then because he was a poet. “Radiant as the sun, and as ethereal as the moon, my darling, my dearest, my… hmmph!”

Geralt cut off his ramblings with a kiss and Dandelion wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, pulling him closer. They had time to savour every moment, every touch, every kiss. They had forever.

#the witcher #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x dandelion #geralt/dandelion #wolfie's witcher writing

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sourbat · 3 years

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Hammertooth 43!

pool

Why I can’t have these two act normal in a darn pool?

With permission from Abigail, Magnus was allotted a brief visit during the holiday, and granted permission to enter some of the more obscure rooms in Mordhaus, albeit with Toki and at least two other klokateers to accompany him. With winter quickly approaching, it was only natural Toki would want to show off the many privileges affronted to a member of Dethklok, and took him past the sauna, to the neighboring indoor pool with its heated flooring, tanning corner and blood-red jacuzzi.

Unfortunately, Abigail failed to bring this up with the rest of Dethklok, and once Nathan mentioned the desire to take a swim, the band quickly followed suit. It was supposed to be a day of fun filled pool shenanigans, but then Nathan swung open the doubled doors, and the band was welcomed to the less than pleasing sight of Magnus and Toki at the edge of the pool, locked in a suggestive embrace. Murderface coughed loudly as the band made their entrance, alerting the two of their presence. Skwisgaar averted staring at the two as they sank deeper into the temperature controlled water before effectively parting. From there, a silent agreement was arranged between the two groups, with each keeping to their respective sides for as long as possible, and engaging in as little intermingling as possible.

The terms of agreement proved far more difficult than imagined.

Nathan wanted to do laps, but Toki achieved the impossible and had Magnus floating besides him, dipping into the warm waters to swim after a playful splash or jettison of water spewed from his clenched palms. Their pattern, though limited to one side of the pool, was so random and distracting, and the acoustics made every laugh, squeal and giggle more grating on the mind. A few splashes from Magnus hitting Nathan’s cheek was all it took for him to recline further into the deeper side of the pool, sink and angrily mull over the entire situation.

Pickles drank. He had planned to drink anyways, but figured he’d at least get a few minutes of exercise in, maybe challenge Nate and the guys to some water freeze tag, but was sure he saw someone’s hands in the other guy’s swim trunks, and wasn’t willing to take the risk. He huddled under a UV lamp, letting Klokateers fan and turn him around every few minutes to slow the unavoidable burn, only glancing in the direction of the pool whenever he heard Toki cry. His empathy was rewarded with the unsightly image of Magnus snatching Toki in the shallow water, legs kicking up and creating a massive wet scene. A second yielded Toki being pulled into the water, only to come up again with Magnus in his arms. By the third, Pickles figured he could get by if Toki actually did drown because watching Toki part Magnus’ sopping hair from his face, only to have a short jet of water spat at him, was the goddamn dumbest shit ever.

Skwisgaar and Murderface took to the jacuzzi, which was farthest from the two, and made the occasional glance rare, though both did pick up on the occasional gross remark about who looked best “soaked.”

Then the two grew bored of swimming.

“Come on, Magnus!” Toki complained, yanking Magnus from the water.

“Finally, I shought they’d never leave,” Murderface muttered under a hushed voice.

“Goods, now we cans swims without seeinks them all overs each others.”

The two eyed the deep end, spotted Nathan at the very bottom of the lapping water, and left the jacuzzi to meet with him. After wiping the red dye off their legs, the two headed to their side of the pool and signaled for Nathan to resurface. As he did, Toki led Magnus closer to where Pickles was situated. The three eyed the ensuing scene, thankful that Pickles was either too drunk or asleep to give a damn about the two, but still curious to see what Toki had in store for the older man. Magnus had never been one to easily slip into a public pool, and now Toki had him under the world’s fanciest and largest tanning bed.

“Come on, gets a load of this,” Toki said, skipping ahead of Magnus to snatch up a klokateer with towels, another holding a tray of fancy looking bottles.

“Careful,” Magnus called after him. “I don’t want you slipping.”

“Will be fines!”

Magnus caught up and took him by the hand. “Toke, slow down.”

Skwisgaar’s jaw slacked. “Dids he just–”

Murderface slammed a calm against his head. “Toke?”

Nathan said nothing. It was less the unoriginal nickname that bothered him, and more the way Magnus had said it. The guy sounded so… concerned.

Their shared distress and the ensuing drop in volume meant the three couldn’t pick up on whatever was shared next, but eventually the two found a spot a few chairs away from a roasting Pickles. Murderface made sure to remind the others that Toki and Magnus’ hands remained locked the duration of the walk, to which both Nathan and Skwisgaar grunted a reply.

“Here, relax over heres!�� Toki proclaimed, leading them to a few chairs situated under the fluorescent UV lighting. He gestured to some standing klokateers

Toki placed a towel on the seat and, with an exaggerated gesture, offered it to Magnus. “Fors you,” he said, face brightening with red that all three could detect from the edge of the pool.

“Why, thank you,” Magnus said, chuckling as he sat himself down.

“No problems.” Toki hovered over him, made a single glance at the klokateer who carried the tray of bottles, and called him over. Toki surveyed the containers of oils and lotions, picked the one that smelled the sweetest, then ordered that the lights underneath him and Magnus be brought down a “levels or twos.”

Toki knelt over Magnus. “Turns around,” he said, resting a hand on the man’s chest.

“Mhmm.”

Nathan’s eyes slowly went agape as Magnus rested on his stomach, back exposed to the hot glow above. And then to his, Skwisgaar and Murderface’s horror, Toki carefully situated himself down on that very same seat Magnus occupied.

“No fucking way,” Nathan muttered.

There was no way Toki was going to oil Magnus Hammersmith’s back.

But Toki continued to adjust himself on the lounge chair, hoisting one of his slender legs over Magnus and crawling up the man’s contours before settling on top of his upper thighs. Magnus emitted a soft groan, one only Toki could register, but the shudder of his legs was visible to their distant onlookers.

“Thinks they ams still watchins,” Toki muttered as he pressed his palms into the curve of Magnus’ lower back.

Another groan, this one detectable by the band. Even Pickles stirred in his seat.

“So?” Magnus grunted through an exhale. “They’re fucking adults.”

“No swearins.”

“Sorry.” Magnus sighed another complaint as Toki’s thumbs pressed into his spin. “Just ignore them… or, y’know, look ‘em straight in the eyes when they do.”

“Okays.” Satisfied, Toki picked up the bottle. “Lets me know if ams being roughs.”

Magnus opened his eyes, turned his head as far as he could, and just barely caught the three musicians ogling them. He snickered. “What was the safety word again? Cinnamon?”

That woke Pickles up from his sleep.

The words sent a haunting shiver down the backs of each member. Murderface made another cough, louder this time, but Toki had already uncorked the bottle and was pouring a healthy glob of scented essential oils into his cupped palm. Nathan brought a hand to cover his mouth when Toki leaned forward, back arching and rear coming to a rise as he applied a healthy coating all over Magnus’ back. Toki rolled his thumbs into Magnus’ back, warming the oil with his hands the constant heat supplied above, and it wasn’t long before all three heard what was undeniably the sound of Magnus moaning. Skwisgaar snapped a finger, calling forward a klokateer holding his guitar. He kept his eyes steady on the strings, refusing to rise and witness the affectionate scene unfolding before him.

“You ams very tight. Need to relax mores,” Toki said, bringing his hands up Magnus’ back.

“I can think of a few ideas.”

A finger pressed into a knot, and Magnus gasped a sharp sigh.

Pickles turned on his side, wincing through tight, burned skin, and caught Toki providing Magnus one of the most sensual massages an idiot like Toki could manage. He lowered his glasses, mouth parting wide at Magnus’ toes curling inwards right as Toki pushed his weight into a particularly stiff muscle. Then came the dreaded, needy whine, and Toki stopped to whisper something low that Pickles could not hear, but definitely witnessed with less than subtle body language that Toki just happened to accidentally show off as he reclined.

The three caught Pickles’ mortified expression and turned to one another.

Murderface glanced at the exit. “Maybe we should…”

“Leave?” Nathan stated, eyes glued to Toki working Magnus’ tight shoulder. Another audible hiss from Magnus sent a troubling sensation down his stomach. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

Still strumming his guitar, Skwisgaar nervously looked over to the other side of the pool at Pickles. The poor guy glanced back at the three, pointed helplessly at the two who were in the processing of turning the massage into a whole new game, and stuck out his bottom lip in a defeated pout.

“Whats about Pickle?”

“What about Picklesh?” Murderface parroted, then snapped a finger for some servants to cover him in his robes. “I’m getting outghta here before they shtart fucking.”

“You donts think?”

“I mean, how many times have we done it in front of each other?” Nathan muttered, and the question was more than enough to determine that they had at best, a minute or two before Toki finally made…whatever moves Toki had in his arsenal. The three bolted, leaving their personals behind for some servant to pick up after them. First was Murderface, then Skwisgaar second, and finally Nathan, who, despite being so affected, made one final eye roll before vanishing into Mordhaus’ halls.

“Uhh,” Pickles uttered, voice on the incline as Magnus turned and pulled Toki into a slippery hold.

“Well, would you look at that,” Magnus declared, a smile stretching into an alert grin as Toki’s oily hands slid down his chest. “We’ve scared them off.”

“Oh, we cans go plays in the water likes we dids before.” Toki pointed to the now-empty pool.

“I mean, I got you where I want you right now,” Magnus said, wrapping his arms tighter around Toki. He kissed Toki’s jaw. “And it’s pretty warm here…”

“Ams very warm.”

There came a giggle, a hand reaching for the oil, and the sounds of Toki squirming and pleading to be set free, only for Magnus to pull him back into his long, clingy grip. Magnus turned over Toki, popped open the bottle, and as Toki yelped for help, Pickles stumbled off his chair, tripping over his steps as he winced and swore his way out of the pool area.

#thank you #hammertooth #magtok #toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #ficlet ask thing #hints of citrus in the air

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bonzai-bunny · 4 years

Photo

An Incomplete Guide to Makeup featuring: The Face

So you walk into a Sephora for the first time and are, understandably, a bit lost. There are so many different brands and colors and tools, it’s all quite dizzying. I think, at its best, makeup can be a wonderful tool of artistry and self expression. I won’t get into makeup at its worst tho….

Anyway, I want to go over the basics in a way that hopefully makes sense to those who want to learn. I’m going break this into sections of face, eyebrows, eyes, and lips. And I want to preface this by saying that makeup has no rules! If you want to wear concealer as eyeshadow whomst am I to stop you? This is just a guide of how things are typically done. So let’s get started!

First things first: Skincare! I won’t pretend to be an expert in skincare, but your skin is important. Keep it moisturized with lotion/cream/gel and protected with sunscreen and please, please, please wash your makeup off before you go to bed! If you exfoliate, don’t do it everyday, no matter what Kylie Jenner says. (I can make a separate post for skincare if y'all want more detail.)

Things you typically wear on your face are primer, foundation, concealer, powder (setting and finishing), blush, bronzer, highlighter, and setting spray. You do not have to wear all of these things at once or, any at all if you don’t want to, but some people do. Just know that, unless you want it to move around your face, any liquid or cream product should be set with powder.

Primer

So you know how if you need to paint a wall, it needs a primer to help it stick to the wall and to protect the wall? Makeup primer works the same way. It protects the skin and helps the foundation stick (more on foundation later), can control oil, and can blur “imperfections” such as some texture and large pores. There are two main types: silicone based and water based. I’m told that matching the primer brand and foundation brand is good because the products are made to work together but I have never tested this myself. I’ve also been told that you should match silicone based primer and foundation and water based primer and foundation.

Silicone based primers: (If you see words ending in -cone,-methicone, or -siloxane in the first few ingredients then the primer is silicone-based). These have a smooth, kind of thick, texture and are good for blurring pores, fine lines, and texture.

Water based primers: (water is probably the first ingredients). These have a watery texture, are light, and are good for dry skin (1).

These are very Your Mileage May Vary on what works for you.

Foundation

If makeup primer is like paint primer, then foundation is the paint. It gives you a blank canvas to work with. This is your base. It evens skin tone and depending on the coverage, covers blemishes, redness, dark spots. Coverage can vary from BB/CC creams (basically sunscreen/lotion with some tint in it and also very difficult to find in darker shades) to super full cover up your past mistakes type coverage. Just like paint, it comes in a spectrum of matte (no shine) to gloss, called radiant or glow, which is all shine. What you want depends on preference and how oily your skin is. For example, if you have really dry skin, a super mattifying foundation might make your skin *too* dry.

This section primarily focuses on liquid, cream, and stick foundations as I don’t and have never worn powder foundation.

Next, we need to talk shades because the whole point of foundation is that it matches your skin. To find a good match you need to know your undertone, which can be a little complicated. Generally, when makeup says it’s “cool toned” they mean pink, reds, and blues. If they say “warm toned” they mean yellows, golds and peaches. Neutral lands somewhere in the middle. It’s not an exact science but this page may help you.

Shade ranges typically go, from lightest to darkest, Fair -> Light -> Medium -> Tan -> Dark -> Deep

Some drugstore* options with good shade ranges are: Maybelline, Nyx, Colourpop, L’Oreal Paris, Covergirl and E.L.F

Some higher end options with good shade ranges are: Nars, Too Faced, Estee Lauder, Fenty, Lancome, and MAC

Tools for foundation

You can use a brush or a sponge (or both!) to apply foundation. I like to apply with a brush and blend with a damp sponge, but that’s just personal preference. :)

(Image: A picture of 5 different types of foundations brushes that are labeled, from left to right “flat/paddle brush.” “stippling/duo-fiber brush,” “flat-top kabuki brush,” “buffing brush,” and “round-top kabuki brush (good for powder foundation).” In between the buffing brush and round-top kabuki, there is a pink, tear drop shaped sponge.)

Drugstore: Morphe, E.L.F, NYX and Real Techniques

High end: Sigma Beauty, MAC, and Sephora Brand

I think I’ll do another post some other time about techniques with each but moving on!

Concealer

Think of concealer like heavy duty foundation. It is thicker and more full coverage than foundation and more for small areas than the full face. Just like foundation, it does vary in the amount of coverage. It can go above or under foundation. There are three ways to use concealer: Spot covering, color correcting, and highlighting and contouring.

Spot covering is what it sounds like, covering small spots that the foundation might not have covered. Typically done with the same color as the foundation.

Color correcting is taking a color and that isn’t your skin tone to “correct” some blemish or darkness. So brief rundown:

Peach: Dark spots on light to medium skin tones Orange: Dark spots on tan to dark skin tones Red: Dark spots on deep skin tones Green: Persistent redness from acne Yellow: Mild redness Pink: Dark circles and overall dullness on light skin tones Purple: Dark circles and overall dullness on dark skin tones (2)

Highlighting and Contouring**

Popularized by Kim Kardashian. Highlighting is taking a color that is lighter than your skin tone and, well, using it to direct attention to certain parts of your face (or brighten up the under eye area). Common areas to highlight are under eye/above cheek bone/center forehead/chin/bridge of nose. Can also be used under an eyebrow to help shape it. Contouring is taking a color that is darker and cooler than your skin tone and using it to deepen/chisel your features or create the illusion of shadow. Common areas to contour are under the cheekbones, around perimeter of forehead, around the jawline, and the sides of the nose.

You can highlight and contour with foundation or powders, but it’s often done with concealer.

Drugstore: Maybelline, Colourpop, Milani, L’Oreal, NYX

High End: Nars, Too Faced, CoverFX, Makeup Forever

Can be applied with a sponge or a brush, like the few below. They tend to be smaller than foundation brushes because you use less concealer.

(Image: 5 small brushes shown vertically) (3)

Powders

There are two main types of powders, setting powder and finishing powder.

Setting powder, which may be loose or pressed in a pan, prevents base makeup from moving and can prevent areas of the face from getting oily and breaking up makeup. Often done with translucent powder. Despite its name, MOST white translucent powders are not actually translucent on dark skin tones. It will appear as a grey cast, but you can get “translucent” powders in tan, beige, and yellow. It can be very hard to find good translucent powder.

Drugstore: Maybelline, Morphe

High End: Laura Mercier, Beauty Bakery, and Fenty Beauty

Finishing powder is what it sounds like. You put it on after all of your makeup is done to get it all nice and airbrushed looking. These are typically are loose powder and aren’t really used as much as setting powder. Sometimes finishing and setting powders are used interchangeably (4). At the end of the day it is just powder that goes on your face.

Drugstore: Colourpop, Maybelline, Morphe, NYX

High End: Sephora Brand, MAC, Ben Nye

Setting powder is typically applied with a sponge (damp or not) and pressed into the oiliest parts or parts you want to highlight, called baking.

Finishing powder is typically dusted over the face with a big fluffy brush like this one.

(Image: A black makeup brush with a round, fluffy, white tip that is widest at its top) (5)

Blush!

This, along with lipstick, is probably one of the most well known aspects of makeup. Blush can be powder, cream, or liquid and is used to bring a bit of flush back to the cheeks (or nose for some people). Can be matte or sparkly. Not all blushes work for all people and this largely depends on skin tones. A light pink blush will look grey on me for example. And yes, blush can work on dark skin, it just depends on the color blush.

Drugstore blushes: Colourpop, NYX, Maybelline, Milani, and Morphe

High end blushes: Nars, Makeup Forever, Lancome, MAC and Bobbi Brown

Cream or liquid blush can be applied with fingers or a sponge. Powder blush is applied with a powder brush, which is also the brush above!

Bronzer

Many people confuse bronzing and contouring. The purpose of contouring is to make your face look more chiseled (or snatched as the kids say). Bronzing is to make you look a little more sun kissed and tan. It’s typically a powder (I have never seen a cream or liquid bronzer but I’m sure it exists) and can be matte or sparkly. It’s applied in about the same place as a contouring might be, but softer and more diffused.

Drugstore bronzers: NYX, Colourpop, Maybelline

High end bronzers: Anastasia Beverly Hills, Nars, Bobbi Brown

Applied with a fluffy powder brush or angle brush or short stipple brush.

(Image, a black brush with a silver hilt and black bristles. The brush is flat on top and angled to the right) (6)

((Note: You can also do a powder contour with that type of brush!))

Highlighter

And here, the shiny champion.

I don’t know how to describe it other than it’s put on certain spots to make light reflect there. It can be liquid, cream, or powder. Some people want a nice subtle glow. Some people want to look like they’re trying to flag down a plane. It might be put on the cheekbone, under the brow bone, on the tip of the nose or down the nose bridge.

Here is an example of it in use:

(Image, white woman with dark hair in makeup and wearing Stila Glitter and Glow Face Highlighter on her cheek bones, under the brown bone, on the bridge and tip of the nose, in the inner corner of the eye, and on the forehead)

I find that silvery/white highlighter tends to look washed out on dark skin, but there’s no hard and fast rule on what colors to use. You can go from more traditional colors like gold and silver or you can wear purple or green or blue highlighter. It’s all up to you!

Drugstore highlighters: Physicians Formula, Maybelline, NYX, Colourpop, and ELF

High end highlighters: Anastasia Beverly Hills, Stila, CoverFX, Hourglass, and Laura Geller

If it’s a liquid or cream it might be applied with fingers or a sponge. If it’s a powder, it can be applied with a tapered brush or fan brush like so

(Image, two makeup brushes. One has a round tip that is wider in the middle and slimmer at the top. One has a tip that is shaped like a fan.) (7)

Setting spray

Last but not least! This is spray that helps melt your makeup into your skin/reduce the appearance of powder, and helps your makeup stay put. This is the last step for the face. All you do is just spray it all over your face.

Drugstore: Morphe, E.L.F., Colourpop

High end: Too Faced, Urban Decay, MAC

More parts to come! xx

*I know Colourpop and Morphe are not sold alongside drugstore products but the prices are comparable

**I can do a post on Highlighting and Contour techniques if anyone wants

#bonzai's bullshit #long post #makeup #make up tips #beginner makeup

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love-and-anarchy-au · 4 years

Text

Love & Anarchy: Chapter 2

good morning/evening! here’s the second chapter. i loved writing the artino siblings and figuting out their aesthetics. hope you like itt <3

REMEMBER THIS AU HAPPENS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE THAT THIS ONE

Find out what this AU is about here

Masterlist

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @dawniebb @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare

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

Words:

10,227

Part 1: A boy named Alec Artino

4 years old Alec

“That's not fair, Alec!”

“Yes, yes it is.”

And they all laughed.

The three Artino siblings were mysterious, very different and identical at the same time, just like crystals. The oldest, Julieta Artino, was slender, with a smooth face and round features. Her eyes were a hug to the soul; her dark eyes were bright, as if they were filled with stars just as her soul was filled with secrets. She always wore her hair down, with a golden headband, delicate and narrow like the hair of an angel, so that her hair would not come over her face; and, also, so people’s attention would be drawn to that shiny headband instead of the greasy dirt in her hair, which could only be washed once a week. On top of that, her body smelled like cheap but fresh perfume, because the Artino family couldn't afford more than twenty showers a month, all five minutes long, so they spent a lot of their money on farmacy perfumes. Her laugh was the most angelic sound in existence and her soul held more secrets than any other one Earth. Despite knowing so much, her lips were always arched on a smile, let it be sad, happy, or repressed; it was always genuine like a pure diamond.

The second brother, David Artino, was skinny, with the most tanned skin out of all the Artinos, since he used to get tanned under the sun of the streets where he sold his metals, which bought the subsistence of the Artino family. His eyes, blue like the sky, (or like the Mediterranean, that's how Alec liked it better), were the first thing you noticed about him, since they contrasted with the sepia photo that he resembled, with his worn out beige clothes, his golden skin smelling of sand and sea, and his dusty hair. His fingers were skilled at handling metals, and that is what he did, despite being only eight years old. He was quiet, shy, introverted, and people still loved him almost as much as Julieta, (even more, Alec dared to think). He was a satellite orbiting the Artinos, isolated but bright when it received light from the sun, which was his father.

The youngest brother, Alec Artino, was pure skin and bones,scented with manly perfume. He appeared to be the same age as his brother, when, in fact, he was three years younger. His dark and turbulent eyes, with slight sparkles, were somewhat sunken (perhaps too much for his age). His hair was strictly slicked back with gel (perhaps too much for his age), repressing all his natural waves (which were to be expected for his age). While he had an easy laugh, laughing was a permitted act only when his father was not around. His father had hated him since birth (perhaps too much), and Alec didn't understand why (nobody actually did). He was a black sheep among the Artinos (perhaps too much), although his mother and sister did their best to make him feel part of the family (perhaps not enough).

At the moment, the three Artinos siblings were together playing chess on their worn out but beautiful board that had been passed down from generation to generation until it reached their hands. It was David against Alec, since Julieta was not allowed to play with them, because she had hellish luck despite being an angel; she always won all the games that could be played with wit and luck. In the face of constant protests from her brothers, Julieta had to stand aside and let Alec and David play, while she smiled mysteriously at the wooden pieces that composed the chess.

Alec was winning at the time, and David was quite outraged (his level of outrage was a soft frown, forming unnatural wrinkles on his forehead). Each movement was more calculated and more premeditated and more confusing and more and more and more. David licked his lips, hungry for knowledge; of knowing what he should do with his remaining pieces of wood. Alec especially enjoyed watching David lose, as David used to have the upper hand overall. Being able to surpass his older brother at something, even if it was in an insignificant game in their lives and the lives of others, a game of bishops and towers, kings and queens, made him feel proud of himself for once from time to time.

Julieta sighed and rested her chin on her hand, bored. Alec suspected she already knew how that game was going to end.

“Can’t we go to the beach instead? I'm bored,” said Julieta, and she shifted into a laying position with a yawn. Her skirt fell on the floor , still covering her pale and tanned legs (a textually inexplicable combination but logical when viewed) and her loafers moved from side to side, synchronized so as not to collide with each other. Julieta stared at the ceiling, her eyes lost and expectant of something to entertain her, according to what Alec saw reflected in them.

David gently denied. Everything about him was soft, subtle, wispy, like a spring breeze.

“We can't go to the beach alone, Julieta. Mamma and Papà are out doing their businesses, and Papà ordered us not to leave the house,” David said and felt one of the pieces, a tower, with his fingers. He hesitated for an instant and moved another, a bishop. Alec laughed. He had become confused, for having been so absorbed in his world full of doubts.

Alec made his last move,not hesitating for a second, and won. It was not necessary to utter the words "checkmate". A silent victory was worth as much as a loud one. David sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, as if he had just woken up from a bad dream. Julieta snorted, tired of waiting for a miracle.

Julieta stood up abrupt yet graceful way, took Alec's hand, helped him up, and led him into the hall. Two pairs of shoes collided on the floor, and the sound echoed off the adobe walls painted with yellowish paint. David stopped to keep up with them, confused but disinterested, as always. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Julieta cut him short with style:

“We’re going to the beach, you can come if you want to.”

Julieta looked for the keys of their run-down house, which were hanging from a hook on the wall, and opened the front door, which creaked when opened (it hadn't been oiled since they had bought the house and moved in). She put the keys in the pocket of her dirty white apron and looked David in the eyes. He sighed again, agreeing to go with them without saying a word; Alec choked back a snort. He would have preferred to be alone with Julieta, but David would not interfere, since he was always deeply focused on his own thoughts.

They walked through the picturesque streets of stone and dust, with drops of dried blood from time to time. Men, women, and children walked too, clad in worn out leather shoes, dirty skirts full of flour, and denim vests made of repurposed fabric. Some men wore hats; women had their hairs combed without a hair out of place, and they showed tired but active expressions at the same time; what a terrifying contradiction the world was! The voices were loud and the words were sung, not spoken, accompanied by hands, eyes, and eyebrows.

Alec enjoyed the dance that was his town. The screams, the cries, the songs, the food. The landscape, the summit that was behind the colorful brick or adobe houses, located next to the celestial Mediterranean Sea, without fear of the rising tide. He liked to go to the beaches and play with the white sand in search of colorful snails and priceless treasures, without immersing himself in the transparent and bluish marine waters, since he was very small. It was a nice place to live, if you were like him.

They arrived at the long-awaited and beautiful beach, which only the locals knew about, and the first thing Julieta did was taking off her leatherette moccasins. A sigh of pleasure escaped her throat as she touched the sand with her feet and Alec also took off his shoes, awkwardly, only to feel what Julieta was feeling. He felt the wet sand and the dry sand slipping through his little toes and sticking to his skin. Julieta rolled up his pants and David did the same with his’, so as not to get them dirty, since they only had two pairs and were washed once a week. David approached the shore, without any fear or intention, and his feet got wet from the sand and the waves that came up there (did David know that his eyes were pieces of that same sea?). Julieta took little Alec in her arms and carried him to the sea, euphoric and with her teeth exposed in a smile, shining like all the pearls they could not afford.

Alec was about to protest, he was already big and did not want to be lifted, but Julieta put him down before he even had time to even say non. Without letting go of her hand, one long and thin and the other small and plump, they walked along the shoreline, their shoes dangling from their fingers, retracted like claws, the waves crashing against the sand and their feet, and the sun beginning to go down slowly, without any rush, just like them.

The three Artino siblings were mysterious, very different and identical at the same time. Julieta was a living guardian angel, cursed to keep secrets that did not belong to her. David was a soul bottled up in a body very similar to this one, condemned to carry weights that were not his’. Alec was a fifth wheel on a four wheels car; he was the spare, he was only for non-substitute wheels purposes. And yet the siblings, being them an angel, a bottled soul, and a fifth wheel, worked well with each other. They were like a human brain: you don't understand how it works, but it does, and that's what really matters.

Juliet hummed old and romantic sonatas, David walked with his head down and his hands in his pockets. Alec sometimes asked to stop to gather a snail or stone out of place that caught his attention, and to be able to put them in his pockets and then in his collection. Even back then, he was a curious being.

When the sun began to brush the sea, changing the color of the water from turquoise to soft orange and fired at the same time, they set out to the overwhelming daily life, that they knew wasn’t so bad when they were together.

Without letting go of their hands, sibling hands, thin and fragile hands, hands full of the same genetics and one unique at a time, they returned home.

#love & anarchy #love & anarchy au #ace anarchy's backstory #ace anarchy #alec artino #julieta artino #david artino #my au #au #renegades au #read #reblog #before renegades #aestethic #whatever

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saxxxology · 4 years

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A Different Kind of Therapy - 3

When the strains of life, broken relationships, an angry boss, and other stresses get a bit too much to bear, you seek a very particular kind of treatment.

PAIRING: Sexual Therapist!Sam x Reader WARNINGS: mentions of a breakup, stress/anxiety, sexual therapy, smut, slow burn

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Seven days go by quickly. The merger draws to a close, which lightens your workload and stress level, but your boss is still as snide and cruel as usual. One time you consider calling Sam in an emergency, but you manage to calm yourself down, all the while remembering that he isn’t your friend to just call on a whim, and that you’re already paying him good money to help you out.

On Saturday morning, you stay in bed until Charlie goes to her usual gaming event. You take over an hour to shower, thoroughly washing your hair and body before shaving. You haven’t shaved down there since Caleb had left, and you find yourself repeating the steps like a zombie with your favorite electric razor until you’re bare and smooth.

You dress in a rush, only bothering with a skirt and a tee shirt. Sam hasn’t been explicit or asked you to dress a certain way, but you can’t help wanting to appeal to his eye just as much as he does yours.

When you reach his office, you sign in and wait for Ruby to give you the okay to go into Sam’s office.

It looks slightly different. He’s changed the lighting and draped a tan plush blanket over the couch, and there’s an aroma diffuser perched on the edge of his desk with a small basket of bottles next to it.

“Hi,” you murmur, cheeks turning warm as he approaches you.

“Good afternoon.” He watches you hang your purse on the hook behind the door. “You look beautiful.”

If possible, your cheeks grow even warmer. “I… I just showered, it’s not much.”

Sam lets you walk up to stand in front of him and takes your hand. “We’ll start slow,” he says softly, “are you comfortable undressing?”

You bob your head. “Yes.”

“Good.” He smiles and releases your hand. “If you want, you can use the bathroom. There’s a robe in there, too.”

“Oh.” Relieved at the option to close yourself off, you follow his hand towards the small door. It’s a private bathroom, only a toilet, sink, and small stall shower, but there’s enough room for you to take your clothes off. A white robe hangs on the back of the door, and you cover yourself in it before stepping out. Sam eyes the silhouette of your figure in the white satin and smiles appreciatively.

“Before we begin, I want to give you something to help out, a little building block for your therapy.” He leads you over to the desk, where he’s arranged the little bottles in a neat row. “Scents can link our minds to positive memories,” he explains, “a fragrance you enjoy will help you during our sessions and when you’re alone.”

There’s at least twenty bottles, all filled with top quality oils. You mull them over, examining each one and smelling a few that sound intriguing. Eventually you settle on three; orange blossom, vanilla, and musky sandalwood. It’s a sweet, pleasant combination that makes your nose tingle almost delightfully.

“These?” You hold them up and allow Sam to pull them from your fingers.

“You have a good nose,” he compliments. He unscrews the caps and lets several drops to fall into the small bowl in the diffuser before adding a cupful of water. The vapor pours from the top, rapidly filling the room with the sweet and musky aroma. Before you get too caught up, he takes your hand and leads you over towards the couch.

“May I?” he gestures to the tie of the robe. When you nod, he gently pulls it open and lets the fabric fall off your shoulders. He drapes it over the arm of the couch before turning his full attention to you. “Do you trust me?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes.” He waits for you to do so. You hear the rustle of his shirt as he moves, and you flinch when the tip of his nose grazes your skin. “Relax,” he cautions, “I’m not going to touch you yet. I want you to relax to the sound of my voice and the feeling of me around you. There is nothing else here except for you and me.”

You nod, knowing he can see it, and let your shoulders drop. He picks up from the top, letting his breath wash over your exposed skin. His lips are only centimeters from your skin, and as you slowly settle into the sensation, his presence takes over.

“Breathe.” The word is whispered against the shell of your ear, drawn out and airy. You inhale through your nose, catching the subtle whiff of the oils in the air, and then exhale through your mouth. He straightens up, slowly pacing around to stand behind you. He lets out another long, quiet sigh just above your shoulder, and you want to lean back into him.

“There,” he whispers, “that’s it.”

He moves up, pressing his chest lightly against your back. His buttons are a cold, dotted row down your spine. You press your lips together, letting your head tip back against his chest. You’re feeling the energy coursing from him into you, making you pulse warm and wet between your legs.

“Sam,” you sigh his name, unable to help yourself.

“Yes?” He draws out the ‘s’ sound against your ear.

“Just…” you shift your weight back and forth, “touch me.”

He chuckles. “You’re still tense. I want you completely relaxed before I touch you.”

He continues his ministrations, eventually brushing his fingers feather-light over your skin. He trails them down your back, over your hips, and around to your lower belly. You continue to lean against him, the wetness between your legs almost too much for you to consider normal.

After several minutes, you fall into a world of nothing but Sam and the scent of oranges and sandalwood. His fingers move in a continuous pattern, his breath stays warm on your skin, and you’re able to lean against his firm chest so that you don’t fall over in your arousal-induced delirium.

You don’t expect to get so relaxed that your legs fall out from under you. Sam catches you with an arm around your waist and holds you up until you steady yourself.

“Lie down,” he murmurs, helping you onto the couch. You’re flushed and hot, breathing heavily through your mouth.

“I didn’t,” you reply, “I’ve never—”

“Shhh…” he crawls over you, letting one palm drift down the center of your body, “that’s what we were looking for. Don’t say anything. Just relax.”

He moves down, letting a long, deep exhale sweep over your belly. When he’s resting between your legs, you don’t have the desire to stop them as he spreads you open, hooking one ankle over the back of the couch while the other rests at an angle on the cushion.

When he starts to breathe over your inner thighs, you can’t stop the desperate whine that leaves your lips. Sam makes no response to it, only skims the tips of his warm fingers over the sensitive skin. All you can do is lie there, absorbing every single sensation he’s driving through your body.

Finally, he brings his thumbs to the outer lips of your pussy and spreads them, his attention finally turned to your core, the part of your womanhood that he truly thinks is the greatest thing ever created.

He spends several minutes massaging the lips of your pussy, ghosting his breath gently over your sensitive folds and clitoris before moving one index finger to press down just to the left of the small, swollen bud.

“Oh…” you bite your lower lip, “oh... there…”

He hums, his lips pressed against the inside of your thigh as he slides his other index finger into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, and Sam doesn’t stop you. When he delivers a slow pump inside you, your pussy clenches around his finger, desperate to keep him inside. He crooks it, changing the angle to brush the soft pad against the top of your vagina, and when he finds your sweet spot he presses against it, not moving as he starts to rub his thumb in slow circles over your clit.

You cum faster than you expect. It’s the most intense sensation you’ve ever felt, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. Sam works you through it, stimulating you through the aftershocks as you come down, panting heavily into the air with one arm thrown over your eyes.

After what feels like hours, he pulls away, retreating to the bathroom to wash his hands and gather a cloth to clean you with. When he comes back you’re still lying where he left you, legs spread as you steadily recover. He cleans you steadily, making sure that every shiny spot of your arousal is gone before handing you your robe. You slip it on, slowly maneuvering yourself up until you’re sitting with him beside you.

“How did that feel?”

You sigh, closing your eyes. “It… I really don’t think I’ve felt anything like it before.”

“Do you feel better?” He turns to face you directly.

Truthfully, your legs feel like jelly and all you want to do is lie down and fall asleep right on the couch. It’s the most relieved and exhausting feeling you’ve ever had. “Yes,” you answer, “I feel much better.”

He smiles. “Good. I’ll make you some tea. Just lie back and relax.” He briefly leaves the room, allowing you to recline back on the couch, ankles crossed. The soft material contours to the curve of your spine, and you allow your eyes to flutter closed. The aroma diffuser keeps the air around you sweet and cloying.

Sam comes back in moments later, carrying a white china cup of jasmine tea. He waits for you to sit up before handing it to you and taking his seat in the armchair.

“Did that work for you?” he asks.

You take a long, grateful sip of the sweet liquid. “I think so. It was really different from what I’ve experienced in the past.”

Sam scribbles a note on his paper. “On an anxiety scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, how do you feel now?”

You take a minute to think. “Maybe… maybe a three?”

“Do you think that you can continue with this treatment?”

Nodding slowly, you sip at your tea. “Yeah.”

He smiles and closes his notebook. “I’m very glad to hear that. I’ll give you a list of the aromatherapy tools, they’re not expensive.”

“Okay.” You rise steadily, setting your empty teacup on his desk. “May I get dressed?”

“Oh, of course.” He stands and allows you to go to the bathroom to change. It takes several minutes for you to get back into your clothes, and when you finally step out of the bathroom, your appointment is over.

“I’ll see you next week,” Sam confirms without even having to ask. He hands you a slip of paper with his neat scrawl. “Here’s a list of what you can get for the aromatherapy. I’d also like for you possibly keep a small journal or notebook, it helps if you can record your day-to-day activities.”

You slip the paper into your purse and gaze up at him. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

He chuckles and leads you to the door, holding open for you. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

***

Charlie’s practically bouncing with excitement when you walk through the door, looking utterly relaxed and exhausted.

“It happened, didn’t it?” She winks knowingly and perches on the edge of the couch. “What was it like?”

You blush. “I thought you’d be at your gaming thing.”

“Called off early, two of our players were out with the flu and the other team was practically eating our ass.” She sits back, biting her lip eagerly. “Come on, I wanna know what he’s like. Is he really as good as his clients say?”

You sink down into the overstuffed armchair and stretch your legs out in front of you. “He’s… I don’t know, Charlie, I never thought a man could do that.”

“What did he do?”

“He…” your cheeks burn even warmer, “he just… stood there, around me, and kinda did this breathing thing on my skin. I forget exactly what happened, but all I know is I fell and he caught me.”

“Holy shit.” Charlie’s cheeks go scarlet. “Then what?”

“He put me on his couch and just… touched me.” You swallow, thinking of the memory of Sam’s warm breath on the insides of your thighs, the soft touch of his finger on your clit. “He did it so easily…”

Charlie shivers. “You gonna go back?”

“It helped,” you reply, “it’s not for the sex stuff, that… I mean, how long has it been since I came home from somewhere not panicking or stressed?”

She shrugs. “Months.”

“Yeah.” You stand up and adjust your skirt. “Now… I really need an epsom bath.”

Charlie holds up her hands. “Not gonna stop you. You deserve it.”

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic

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caps-lockdown · 5 years

Text

Sweater Weather Part Five

Here’s the next installment! Enjoy!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!PottsRelativeReader!

Words: 4,047

WARNING THIS CHAPTER IS PRETTY STEAMY AND IS AS CLOSE TO SMUT AS I’LL BE WRITING FOR THIS FIC. Reader discretion is advised! Warnings/Ratings: R/Possible 18+ For more flirty and sexy! Steve Rogers, mentions of booze, language, a TON of flirting/adult situations. You’ve been warned, the temperature isn’t the only thing hot in this chapter! Reader discretion is advised.

Also AU in the fact NO ONE DIED during Endgame/Steve didn’t go back. Also as much as I adore Morgan Stark, she isn’t around yet. I didn’t know where this would fit timeline wise, so just ignore the timeline. Kay? Cool.

Summary: You’ve just moved to New York after a long 3 year stint travelling the world and helping with various charities, taking a new job with Stark Industries thanks to your cousin Pepper. A trip out to surprise Tony and The Avengers for the weekend turns from good to terrible when the a/c at the compound breaks. How will you beat the heat for the record breaking weekend?

In Y/N Y/L/N format, I don’t own any gifs, outfits or characters except for the Reader and her friend Kate. No beta so I DO own all of my mistakes.

Part Five

The room was cold and the yet the first thing you noticed was the very warm arm that was draped lazily across your waist, and the heat that radiated off of whoever’s broad chest that was behind you. This isn’t right. Your eyes were too heavy with the hangover that was flooding your system to open, but you managed to force your body to turn over. You were pretty sure you were giving molasses on a cold day a run for its money with how slow you shifted your weight, finally facing the sleeping person after what felt like eons. Who the fuck is in my bed?

You swam through your memories from last night, your eyes darting behind your eyelids in panic as you couldn’t remember anything past Thor helping you to your room. Oh shit. Thor is in my bed?! You brought your shaking hands up to his chest. Wait. Hardly any chest hair. Doesn’t Thor have some? You cursed internally, not having seen most of the guys shirtless in well over three years so you couldn’t actually guess. You were going to have to just deal with the budding migraine and open your damn eyes. Sunlight be damned.

You went into cardiac arrest the minute you cracked an eye open to find Steve-Fucking-God-Damn-Captain America-Rogers sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of how his flexing arm was pulling you into him closer. This had to be a dream.

“Um….Steve?” You whispered, poking the sleeping soldier hard with your index finger, a small huff from the man who was violating your space being the only response you were given. “Steve, wake the HELL up!” A sleepy smile graced his features, the blonde snuggling you closer and putting both arms around you.

“I’m having that dream again.” Your body fully awoke at his soft statement, and you almost wanted to let him sleep, thinking it really sweet that you had plagued his sleep as much as he had yours over the time you had spent apart. “You’re so perfect. Y/N.” A beam of a smile swept over your features, allowing your hands to remain on his chest and resting your head against it, taking him in and hearing his heartbeat. This felt amazing. It just felt right.

That ended within five seconds of his large hands dropping from your waist, roughly latching onto your ass. The not polite and none too subtle squeeze of his digits into your soft flesh set you promptly the fuck off.

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You voice was shrill as you let out your loud screech. Your heart threatened to burst from its cavity as you pushed him hard, the good Captain jerking his eyes awake with a groan and staring down into your pissed off facial features.

“OH SHIT!” Steve launched himself off your bed and onto the hard floor with a loud thud, his eyes adjusting to the room and realizing he was in fact, not in his bedroom like he had thought previously the evening before when he drunkenly forced his way into it. “Y/N I can explain…”

“I DON’T WANT AN EXPLANATION, I WANT YOU OUT!” You cried, grabbing your pillows and throwing them in an assault on the equally hungover, but not quite awake blonde man, him scrambling to his feet and running a hand over his face.

“Doll I didn’t mean…”

“Rogers if you are not out of my room in the next FIVE seconds I will start screaming for Tony.” You handed him the ultimatum with clenched teeth, the target of your frustration chuckling nervously as he gave a timid nod.

“I’ll go but I want you to know something.” Your left eye twitched at the nerve of this man. Coming into YOUR room while you were asleep, and CUDDLING with you?! That you could deal with just fine. Quite willingly, actually. But you would NOT stand for being groped in your bed, no matter how much you had craved his hands on you before. It wasn’t right, and you were not an easy piece of ass. Not to mention the initial shock of him even being in your bed, shirtless, was enough to freak you out. What if you two had done something? Your mind was reeling at the thought. There is no way you would have and not remembered. “I’m not sorry.”

Your ears were burning, much like the rest of your face as you sputtered, “W….What?”

He sighed, blonde hair falling in his face. His blue eyes held a sense of insecurity in them as he stared at your figure, his own breath caught as you appeared to look breathless yourself. “Waking up next to you is something I never thought I’d get to do again, so regardless of the how,” A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before he forced it away, “I am not going to apologize for finally getting to hold you while we slept in a bed instead of a couch. I won’t apologize for having the best night of sleep I’ve had in years because for a moment it felt right having you in my arms. Not once. Not ever. I’m not sorry.”

You sat, staring at him slack jawed as he turned his back and simply walked out of your room.

Kate’s number was punched into your phone without you looking, you nearly in tears as she happily answered. “Hey beautiful! You finally get some super dick last night?”

“Kate I think I fucked up. Big time.” Your conversation was muted through the door, Steve leaning against it with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had the night on repeat in his brain, trying to gauge if he had done anything unforgivable in his drunken slumber. Not counting this morning of course. He had honest to god thought it was a dream, believing whole heartedly that your frame laying next to his was nothing more than a ghost. A vision he never got to see come true. He never would have reacted that way if he had known the truth. Steve Rogers was NOT that guy. He could sense the panic in your voice an assumed you had no idea what had happened after you had gotten to your room. Rightly so he’d imagine, with all of the drinks you had consumed. He knew you weren’t really mad at him, but all he could do was give you space. He turned his head to the right, seeing Nat’s door open. A very guilty looking James Barnes emerged, his eyes wide as if Steve had grown a third head when he looked to see the man sharing the hallway with him. Steve grinned, arms crossing over his shoulders.

“Good morning pal. Sleep well?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Punk.” The former man shook his head, his face changing into one of sadness as he tried to make out your nervous and upset sentences from between layers of wood. “Damn. Tell me on the way to breakfast?”

The two began their walk of shame towards the kitchen, filling each other in on what exactly had and hadn’t happened the night prior. You hung up with Kate, dragging your body out of bed, figuring out how (with the help from Kate of course) you would let the man who you had kicked out know you would never be doing that again.

~~After Breakfast~~

“Jesus I thought it was hot before.” Sam muttered, Bucky and Steve both nodding dumbly in agreement as they watched from the large window overlooking the expansive patch of green grass outside the compound. Nat, Pepper, and now Carol Danvers, who had brought a very adorable kid by the name of Peter Parker to the compound to ask Tony some very important questions about upgrades to his suit, had taken to sunbathing. In bikinis.

“You gonna be alright when Y/N comes out in a few?” Bucky side eyed his oldest friend, the man glaring at him as he lightly shoved his non flesh arm. “Or are we gonna have to put you back on ice to cool down?”

“I’ll be just…” His voice died in the back of his throat as he saw your figure step out onto the lawn in your very curve fitting blue bikini.

His ragged breath betrayed him to his two friends, his eyes glued to the sway of your hips barely covered in the fabric. He had to advert his gaze, but only for a second when you bent over at the waist, gladly accepting the glass of sweet tea Pepper held out for you from her chair. The curve of your backside, the very same one he had managed to literally snag handfuls of this morning taunted him as you chose to lay down on your stomach on your own lawn chair, unaware of his heated stare. When Tony lightly misted your beautiful frame with tanning oil, your body jerking at the sudden coolness he felt his throat go bone dry. This just wasn’t fair.

“You were saying Rogers?” Sam chuckled at Steve’s sudden silence, the super soldier hearing nothing but his own blood pounding in his ears. “Can’t say I blame ya though, Princess Peach is looking particularly ripe and juicy today. Right Barnes?”

The brunette gave an appreciative whistle, “Very true Wilson, I agree.” His eyes weren’t looking at you though, they were gawking at a certain red head’s tight black bikini clad body. The three men collectively groaned as Tony ruined their perving session, outing them to the four women, who in turn sat up and stared disappointedly. Your scowl turned into a smirk when the two of you locked eyes. Well shit. “I guess we better start working on our apologies fellas.”

“That requires us to feel guilty first.” Sam shot out, none of them paying attention to Peter as he rushed outside with a new pitcher of tea for the ladies. They didn’t miss Pepper barely missing Tony’s face with her palm when he attempted to untie the string holding up her bikini top on her neck. At least he would be in the dog house with them. “Let’s go, Stark is outnumbered and unarmed, time to level the playing field.”

“What are we playing?” Thor asked, sidling up to the trio who began their trek to the large door that lead outside, Sam starting to take off his shirt.

“We’re setting a thirst trap Blondie, beating the women at their own game.” He tossed his shirt carelessly to the side, the other three quickly understanding and stripping themselves of their tops. “Now act like you aren’t sorry for getting caught Rogers. Y/N has already led on she can barely restrain herself around you. She told me she feels awful for kicking you out of her bed this morning. Just turn on the charm and she’ll be on you like a koala bear.”

“Easy for you to say Sam, you didn’t shamelessly grab her ass this morning because you thought you were dreaming.” The door opened and instantly Steve wanted to crawl back into the less sticky air of the compound living room.

“True, but did she once tell you to stop?” Before he could respond to his friends query, you had taken the chance at straddling your chair, your eyes glazing over at the sight of the shirtless men as they walked, no strutted into your field of vision. Sweet Jesus three years had passed and they only managed to look even more delicious. Aged like fine wine. Steve’s abs had beads of sweat clinging to them, and you would kill to have been the reason for them instead of the hot as balls weather. He was beautiful, strong shoulders and those powerful arms you had woken up in almost daring you to wind yourself back into them. You bit your lower lip as he imitated your previous smirk with ease. This just wasn’t fair.

“Good afternoon ladies, fine weather we’re having huh?” Bucky said cheerfully, the four women sending him a mixture of mock glares and middle fingers. “Wow why the hostility?”

“You were gawking at us earlier, sorry if we aren’t happy to see you.” Carol’s voice was plain and flat, the winter soldier’s smile only widening at Nat’s eyes sweeping over him the same way he had done to her just moment before stepping outside.

“That isn’t stopping you from staring at us now, is it?” He retorted.

Carol huffed, turning to stare at the fabric of her chair instead of the four shirtless gods. Peter looked confused but chose to say nothing. Tony just chuckled at the double standard of it all. You crossed your arms under your chest, trying to keep your knowing smile at bay when Steve’s gaze dropped to your assets as they were gently lifted in your bikini top. “My eyes are up here Cap.”

“Wasn’t looking at em Doll.” Steve offered lowly, your body heating up as he brazenly continued his visual appraisal of your figure. It was like all of the blood in your body had turned into liquid fire, and you barely contained a shiver as he moved to place his hands on either side of your chair, giving you flash backs to when he had dropped you on the couch a couple of nights previously.

“Well at least you’re honest.” You whispered, swallowing as he leaned down, face in front of yours, his expression dark and god damn he was going to pay dearly for all of this teasing later. “Something on your mind Rogers?” You cooed.

“I thought I warned you about your shorts getting any shorter Sweetheart.” His voice had come out as a deep growl, the rumble from his chest making your head spin and you went to grip the metal frame of the chair in response to his seductive statement. With every word you were beginning to kick yourself even harder for not jumping his ass this morning. “Might just have to teach you a lesson about what happens when you don’t listen.”

“That a threat? Or a promise?” You whispered back, eyes never leaving his.

Tony’s gagging sounds in the background reminded the two of you that you weren’t alone.

“Seriously you two, go get a fucking room already. I think m’gonna be sick.” You rolled your eyes at your dramatic cousin in law, Peter stifling a laugh at the absurdity of his mentor’s exaggerated heaving motions. Steve leaned up from the chair, shaking his head and sitting his fine ass down on the grass.

“So, how are we going to beat this heat Mister Stark?” Peter’s question stopped the older man’s performance, Tony standing up straight and looking at his nails.

“Any bright ideas Y/N?”

You already had six by the end of breakfast.

~~Later~~

“Y/N, you are an absolute GENIUS!” Nat exclaimed happily on your right, you looking at your masterpiece of the weekend. A couple of tarps, some bungee cords and a garden hose later you had turned the bed of your truck into a redneck pool.

“Yea Short Stack, amazing job. Now move over.” You stared at your cousin as if he was crazy, Tony taking a small step backwards. “I mean…ladies first?”

“Better. You heard the man, ladies.” The four of you hurriedly climbed into the truck bed, happy sighs of contentment leaving your mouths as you sunk into the cooling liquid. The plastic from the tarp was something you’d have to get used to feeling on your skin, but otherwise you were in complete bliss. The men looked upset as they realized there was really only enough room for one more body. “Now who are we gonna let join us?”

“Well it’s my tarp.” Tony started.

“But you’ve been an asshole all weekend, Stark.” Sam cut in.

“I’d like to nominate myself, as I am the best looking male here.” Bucky added, the women laughing and forcing the man to pout.

“I think you need to get your eyes checked Pal.” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m not going to suggest any one of us, it’s entirely up to you goddesses to decide.” Thor smiled warmly at you, your heart melting only slightly. “But I might add that Bruce would not be a suitable option if you want your truck to remain intact.”

“Yea where is Banner?” Nat asked, and everyone in the group looked wrecked with guilt, having not seen the giant man since earlier that morning. “Seriously? How did we lose Bruce?”

“I’m sure he’s somewhere,” You waved away the worry, putting your eyes on Peter who stood staring at his feet. “Parker, you’re in.”

The excited teen didn’t need to be told a second time, scrambling up into the back of the truck with all the gusto raging hormones could buy. He smiled brightly, muttering “Thank you” and “You guys are so nice” repeatedly as he sat on the edge, plunging his feet into the soothing water.

“Fine. I see how it is. We’ll just make our own club and you won’t be invited!” Tony huffed, crossing his arms like a toddler and pouting. It fell on deaf ears, the five of you in the truck paying him no mind as you started splashing at each other. “Let’s go guys.”

The time flew by as you enjoyed your friend’s company, and you quickly had taken a major liking to Peter. He was like a younger brother, super sweet and engaging, and quite the amazing listener. You were a bit put off at first hearing just how he knew the team, feeling the need to protect him as he recalled stories of the battles he had been a part of. Especially during the accords situation. You heart pounded with concern as he told you about Thanos, and all of the features on his suit Tony had made him. You’d never tell but you were more than relieved to hear of the “instant kill” function your cousin had put into it.

“Well we might as well let the guys have a turn now that we’re legit becoming prunes.” Carol conceded, the rest of you agreeing and standing up from the water. It was still stupid hot outside, and truthfully you were feeling a bit bad at not allowing the guys to join you earlier. Or at the very least take turns.

“I’m thirsty, someone come with me to get some drinks from the kitchen?” You inquired, stretching your limbs before beginning your descent out of the back of your vehicle.

“I’ll go with you miss Y/N!” Peter piped up, clamoring after you. You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness to accompany you, suspecting that being someone new meant for new conversations. You’d never been happier to have your ear talked off before, but this kid was easily becoming your favorite.

“Huh, that’s weird. They aren’t in here.” Your statement came out confused upon entering the empty living room area, the fans and coolers mostly missing. “Where the hell did they all go?”

“Shh miss Y/N, you hear that?” Your eyes met Peter’s and he motioned towards the kitchen, where you could hear the faint deep laughter of Steve and Thor. Tiptoeing into the large kitchen, you were once again met with an empty room, your expression puzzled when you looked back at the teen who shrugged. “I know we heard…look!”

He moved to look at the small sign that was haphazardly taped to the large door leading to the walk in freezer of the compound, the messy writing no doubt the byproduct of your cousin.

“He-Man-Woman-Hater-Freezer. How original.” You let out an exasperated sigh at the lengths these childish men would go to. “They’ll get over it.”

You threw the door open to see the small group of men sitting among the floor of the freezer, Tony and Sam wearing a few more layers of clothes, the rest of the inhabits still shirtless and looking super pleased with themselves.

“Hey Short Stack can’t you read?!” Tony glared at you, Steve unable to keep his eyes in his head at your figure gracing his presence again. “You aren’t welcome here! Be gone! Before someone drops a house on you!”

“Stop being so damn dramatic Snark, we were just wondering where you went off to. We’ve decided to let you all take a dip in the pool I built, if any of you were still interested.”

“Well thanks but we don’t need your second rate pool…” Tony began, looking betrayed shortly after as Sam and Thor moved to join you. “What the fuck guys?”

“Hey, watch your damn mouth! There’s a teenager here!” You retorted in mock shock, moving to cover Peter’s ears who only laughed lightly. “Did you find Bruce?”

“Obviously not. Do you see him in here?” Sam asked, squeezing past you to take off his clothing in preparation to heading back into the heat wave. “I bet ten bucks he chickened out and ran off to find a/c.”

“You owe me ten bucks then Wilson.” The familiar voice of Bruce Banner boomed through the freezer, and all of your eyes came to rest upon a rather large pile of bagged and frozen vegetables. A large grin broke your face as you noticed an out of place green toe sticking out from under a bag of broccoli. “Also, you guys smell horrible. Make sure you shower before you taint Y/N’s hard work with your nasty man stench.”

“Thank you, but I’m sooooo calling you Jolly Green Giant from now on.” Laughter rose out of you when the man moved the container of carrots off his eyes to narrow them at you, you batting your eyelashes innocently.

“Alright well I don’t know about you suckers but I’m gonna go get in that pool!” Sam brought everyone back to earth, the rest of the guys clearing out and following Parker out to the grounds. Your hand went to grab Steve’s wrist, tugging him in the opposite direction once Tony was out of your sights, dragging the man with you until you were both standing in front of the door that led to your room.

“Somethin on your mind Y/N?” His voice was soft as you tried to steel your nerves, your pulse erratic. You had talked with Kate about what you were going to say when you finally got this beautiful man alone, but now that the moment was here you were back to being the uncertain mess you had been all weekend. “Sweetheart? You’re making me nervous here.”

Seeing the same insecurity in his stunning blue eyes that made your heart hurt when you kicked him out of your room that morning pushed all of your words out the nearest window.

“Oh screw it.” You admonished, quickly putting your arms around his neck and pulling Steve’s lips to yours. He was quick to the jump, arms wrapping around you and walking you backwards until you were against your door, smiling into the kiss and making your knees weak. You pushed all of your emotions into it, the years of longing and passion bruising both of your lips as he deepened the kiss, returning the mutual feelings with a reckless abandon. Kissing him was everything you had been dreaming over the years, his lips pillow soft as they nipped at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to meet yours in a languid dance. It was perfect, he was perfect.

A deep groan fell out from his throat when he detached his mouth from yours, moving along your jaw line and peppering kisses along the column of your neck. “Doll you are going to be the death of me.” You moaned at his hot whisper against your skin, feeling him smirk into your shoulder. You couldn’t agree with him more.

“We don’t have much time before I have to help Pepper with dinner. Maybe an hour, hour and a half tops.” You got out heatedly as he continued his assault on your neck, hands moving across your body and leaving a searing fire in their absence.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.” He growled, pulling on the handle behind you and pushing you through the door, your giggles fading into moans as he kicked it shut behind him.

Tag List: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more @chrisevansfanfic @yesno18 @zsuzstyina @zombiepotterfour @evanstush

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #avengers #captain america #fanfic #fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction

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elinaline · 4 years

Text

Got tagged by @mixmio thanks ! my brain does not want to focus on work these days so perfect

1. What is the colour of your hairbrush?

it’s like. black. I rarely use it though, because if I brush my hair it looks like a bomb exploded on my head fdjkfh so I untangle it after putting in conditioner and usually I just fight it with my bare hands in the morning

2. name of a food you never eat?

cucumber. fuck that vegetable it’s disgusting way too smelly and the texture is fucking horrible

3. are you typically too warm or too cold?

too warm !!!!!! and it’s only gonna get worse (: woohoo

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago?

I was being anxious lmao, and weirdly emotional because of that playlist spotify gave me. Also thinking about how to formulate the things I want on my report for my precedent internship that I still need to conclude.

5. what’s your favourite candy bar?

is it twix ? is it mars ? I never know the difference carambar good also

6. have you ever been to a professional sports event?

I used to be in the official orchestra of a professional rugby team so I’ve been to a few dozens official sports events actually !! I’ll always remember the patrouille the France oing over our head as we were playing for a France-Ireland match in Bordeaux, that was amazing, and Irish rugby fans are so fun :)

7. what is the last thing you said out loud?

“oh it’s bubbling up !” talking about a cake I’m trying to do with sourdough starter

8. what is your favourite ice cream?

fucking uuuhhhhh blueberry ? there’s no better ice cream taste than one made from wild blueberries that you went out in the moutain to pick with your family after noticing a good spot during a hike :3

9. what is the last thing you had to drink?

orange juice 5mins ago

10. do you like your wallet?

yeah ? it’s convenient I.... it’s got lots of pockets ? idk it’s sturdy wh. that’s a weird question actually

11. what was the last thing you ate?

lunch made by my roommate ! also a bit of the paste from aforementioned cake lol

12. did you buy any new clothes last week?

no I don’t intend on buying new clothes until a loooonnnngggg time I don’t particularly need any plus like. quarantine lol.

13. last sporting event you watched?

uh.

the. no wait ? no that’s it probably bits of the tour de france last summer ?

14. what’s your favourite flavour of popcorn?

there are different flavors between salt and sugar ???????????? anyways salted popcorn is absolutely disgusting so. sugar. there are different flavors ? what a wild world we live in

15. who was the last person you sent a message to?

@breadstyx I was talking to them about the cake

16. ever go camping?

rarely

we were supposed to go camping this weekend, since it’s a long one what with May 8, with my class as sort of like one last big event altogether but :) fuck us I guess lol

17. do you take vitamins?

I used to in highschool bc I had toxoplasmosis and it fucking drained me. I’ve also taken some magnesium complements this year because I had vertigo caused by stress because it was such a nice year for me (: (: (:

18. do you go to church every Sunday?

LMAOOOOO NO

19. do you have a tan?

I’ve been stuck inside for the last two months and there is basically no direct sun in my apartment. so. I’m white as fuck rn

I’ll get SO sunburnt as soon as I can go outside lol but catch me rolling in the grass as soon as they reopen the parks, I haven’t seen grass in 52 days fuck off. Like knowing we’d get out of quarantine but that the parks would still be closed for a while did a funny number on my mental health hahaaaa

20. do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

I’m not a big Chinese food fan generally :/ also what kind of pizza are we talking about ?

21. do you drink soda with a straw?

before I answer this question I need to know what you define as soda because I’ve never understood what non French people meant by that. also generally I don’t use straws apart for like milkshakes and smoothies

22. what colour socks do you wear?

right now I’m barefoot

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I haven’t driven in years my guy fdkfh but usually no I’m exactly at the speed limit I’m terrified of driving and I hate it SO

24. what terrifies you?

like, right now, or ? in general ? I’m terrified of every countries around slowly turning into authoritarian regimes and not being able to do shit, I’m terrified of the general mistrust towards science I can see in the general public, I’m terrified of the rise of fascism, I’m terrified of climate change in a very short term idea because I can’t bear many more summers above 45°C and in the long term because I’d like today’s kids to have a future, I’m terrified of never being enough and not getting a PhD funding, I’m terrified people will get bored of me or think I’m not useful anymore and leave me and I’d have to rebuild myself from zero again, I’m terrified of the general idea of losing control, I’m terrified of big empty spaces, I’m terrified of causing harm of any kind without being able to control or reduce it. You know the usual dose of existential fear and then some, and then some more for good measure haha :)

25. look to your left what do you see?

a calendar

26. what chore do you hate?

doing the dishes and getting the bin out because it hurts my back

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

":)” loved going to Melbourne would love to go back I miss my friend there

28. what’s your favourite soda?

seriously define soda first. If you mean drink with bubble I don’t like any of them basically. If you mean processed drink with an average of five sugar cubes per can I’d say Oasis ? or Ice Tea

29. do you go into fast food places or drive thru?

never been to a drive through. fast foods yeah ! there used to be a Declercq (it’s like belgian fries, v good, v greasy, perfect for a friday night with friends) near my school but they had an oil fire so it burned down :( so now the alternative for greasy fries is BK

30. who was the last person you talked to?

@breadstyx whom I sent a message to about the cake. IRL I live with my roommate so.

t31. favourite cut of beef?

one that’s tender ? you think I know perfectly which cut is what and not that I don’t buy the cheapest one when I feel like polluting a lot with what I eat ?

32. last song you listened to?

I’m currently listening to a spotify playlist. I’s currently playing hang on

Willow tree by twin wild i’ve never heard of these guys but ok

33. last book you read?

oh fuck I’m in a “unable to read” period lmao. Probably one of the October Daye series uh. The one where her mom comes to steal her fiance and her twin

34. can you say the alphabet backwards?

zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihfedcba

took a while but I think it’s correct ? It’s like. I know sequences that are easy to invert and I need to link them together that’s the tricky part

35. how do you like your coffee?

black

36. favourite pair of shoes?

Before I bought my docks I had those huge bulgy shoes that I loved because no one could step on my feet in the metro, but the insole started caving in in a weird way and it hurt my ankle so I had to stop wearing them :(

37. the time you normally go to bed?

(: NORMALLY around midnight, but rn it’s more like. between 1 and 2 am when I’m not too bad

38. the time you normally wake up?

NORMALLY around 8 but I’ve decided 9.30 would be good, and I usually am able to get up only by 10am

39. what do you prefer sunrise or sunsets?

I’m usually not awake for sunrises but both are good. I like the hour JUST after sunset best because it’s like. you can see daysky on one side and nightsky on the other, and everything is sort of blue or sort of orange

40. how many blankets are on your bed?

one

41. describe your kitchen plates?

they’re round and kinda concave so that food doesn’t get out ? I? do you have many weird questions like that

42. do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?

I’m a sucker for a good piña colada but it’s hard to get them exactly right, like the balance between too sweet and too creamy is subtle

43. do you play cards?

in highschool I used to but I’ve forgotten all the game we’d do

44. what colour is your car?

don’t have one

45. can you change a tire?

lmao

46. your favourite province?

If we’re talking french region, Aquitaine is the closest I’ve ever felt to being home I guess ? I love the Pyrenées as well, all three old regions I don’t know the new ones fdfsdhfsdf

47. favourite job you’ve had?

I’ve only ever done summer camp counselor as a summer job, and I’ve had both a traumatising experience filled with sexual harassment and a really good experience that helpes me get more self confident so.

48. how did you get your biggest scar?

it’s not really a scar it’s a bump on my head that never left, I hit my brother in the garden pool at full speed when I was 7

49. what did you do today that made someone happy?

afaik nothing but I’m about to put this cake to bake SO

I am tagging uuuuuuuuuhhh say @sunny-day-sky andddd @queerlynx but like. don’t feel pressured to do it, it’s a Lot

#tag game #long post

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fangirlfiles1 · 5 years

Text

Apocalypse and Apple Pie

Fandom: Good Omens

Summary: An angel and a demon mourn the end of the world with the last human on Earth. And some apple pie of course, for irony’s sake.

TW: Character death

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471408

Summary: An angel and a demon grieving the end of the world with the help of the last human on Earth. And a slice of apple pie, of course.

“We don’t have to stay here and watch this, Angel. We can go. Any time you like.”

But of course not. Aziraphale stayed. He watched, and he cared, and it hurt. If it had just been Crowley on his own, he would have left as soon as the first shuttles were taking people to the newly colonized Mars. He would have laid claim to one of the first homes and recreated his old flat as well as he could (which would have been perfectly, with the help of a quick demonic miracle). But it wasn’t Crowley on his own, not now, and it hadn’t been for a very long time. Aziraphale and Crowley were an inseparable pair.

So, without a single complaint, Crowley also stayed. He watched, and he tried his hardest not to care, but it still hurt.

-- They could fly there, or even appear with a snap of their fingers, but Aziraphale insisted on walking. He wanted to feel the dying Earth beneath his bare feet for as long as he could, he said. He wanted to soak her in through his heels and keep her with him somehow. So, they walked without stopping, wedging dirt between their toes and under their nails as if they could revive the planet with the touch of their divine skin.

Crowley hung back a few strides, tucking his fingertips into his pockets and watching his angel make the farewell pilgrimage. Aziraphale looked worn, frayed along the edges. His skin was tanned from the journey, a thin layer of scruff warmed his jaw, and his once bright eyes were dull and almost permanently misted. Beyond human perception, not that it mattered now, his wings drooped and his feathers lacked their usual heavenly shine. Heaven’s attention had moved elsewhere and the angel hadn’t yet followed. It was only getting worse.

“M’tired, Angel. Let’s stop. We’ll get there tomorrow either way,” Crowley complained, his hips sagging as he planted his feet on the path. He pulled his hands out from his pockets and stretched them out over his head before letting them swing loosely at his sides, making a dramatic show of his aching body. The request to stop was entirely for himself, of course. It wasn’t at all for Aziraphale (It was. Completely. They both knew it, too).

Aziraphale blinked, pulled from his thoughtful stupor as he turned to watch the performance. His expression flickered between disapproval and gratefulness, before it finally settled with a nod. “Oh, alright. But only a short break. We’re running out of time, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Crowley said as he looked around, finding an old rusted bench nearby. Perfect. He flopped himself heavily on it, his knees unfolding to the sides as he stretched his arms along the back of it.

Aziraphale blinked again. Crowley had taken up the entire bench in his sprawling. A wave of Crowley’s hand cleared up his confusion and the angel’s face softened. They had done this many times before. He settled himself on the ground in front of the bench, not minding the dirt one bit, and he let his wings unfurl over the demon’s lap.

Crowley set to work. His fingers gently ran through the soft feathers, straightening them and massaging in the natural oils to restore their sheen. Aziraphale had never been good at grooming his own wings, often finding himself coated in a thin layer of bookshop dust. Though, it had been a long while since their bookshop days. Crowley had taken it upon himself to maintain them for him. His angel should always shine.

“She’s the last of them,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley couldn’t see his face, but he knew his eyes were closed, imagining what they would see when they arrived at the home of the last human on Earth.

“Not really. They’re like cockroaches, you never can quite stomp them out.” Aziraphale bristled at the comparison and Crowley backtracked, “er, in a good way. They’ve spread to Mars and before long they’ll spread across the rest of the universe too.”

With a quiet sigh, Aziraphale leaned back more comfortably against Crowley’s knees. “I mean she’s the last one here. On Earth, their home.”

“I know what you meant, Angel.”

They fell silent as Crowley finished, turning his attention to Aziraphale’s pale curls instead. He had to be the messiest angel, always frizzy and fussed, too busy with other thoughts to focus on the state of himself (though his clothes were a different story. Those were always carefully cared for. Vintage). He turned between Crowley’s knees and rested his crossed arms on the demon’s thigh, closing his eyes. Finally, he would take a much-needed rest.

With his angel taken care of, Crowley finally let himself look at the world around them.

It was desolate and dirty. The humans as a whole had tried, at the end. When it was clear that it was beyond saving, many of them had tried to bury it to rest in the best ways that they could. But others, those with more power, tossed it aside off the rim of a metaphorical garbage bin and let it fall to the ground without a care. They didn’t seem to feel the pain of being forced away from their home through fire, flame, and rocket fuel. They should.

But their situation and his were entirely different matters, he reminded himself, of course they wouldn’t understand.

Everything was brown, nothing growing in sight here or anywhere else. Crowley would scream at the entire world to grow if he could, to turn green again for his angel who loved it so much. And for himself who loved it just as much, though admitting that would make the loss hurt more.

The buildings around them had begun to crumble, glass cracked and shimmering along the ground at the edges where dirt met brick and drywall. It had taken many years to get to this point. They watched the humans scramble for their own survival, finding hope in other planets and making it to Mars at the last moments. They had been kind, bringing more people than Crowley had expected. It wasn’t just the rich. It wasn’t just the seemingly more important. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Many had been left behind. Those who didn’t want to go, and those who did but couldn’t make the trip. They had survived for longer than they had all expected as the angels and demons observed. Crowley had wanted to leave as soon as he could, but Aziraphale wanted to stay. He wanted to help, and he wanted to say goodbye. Crowley agreed. They began to die, and Crowley ached to leave again. Aziraphale couldn’t tear himself away, especially not now. So, they journeyed instead. They walked across God’s brown Earth and stopped to visit each of the humans that remained, giving them a bit of light before they were gone. Though that was more Aziraphale’s doing than Crowley’s. He stood on the sidelines, waiting.

Now their journey was almost over.

“We should keep going,” Aziraphale whispered, a badly disguised exhaustion in his voice. He had slept for only a few minutes, but it would have to do. Crowley knew he wouldn’t get any more out of him.

“Alright.” -- The house was pristine. Well, as pristine as a house could be at the end of the world. It showed signs of a once brilliant garden that made Crowley’s heart twinge in his chest. There was a worn-out welcome mat and faded valances over the windows. It looked like a home.

Aziraphale wasted no time in stepping up to the front door, straightening himself up with a roll of his shoulders and knocking three distinct knocks. Crowley hung back with his hands in his pockets, one hip jutted out to the side. He didn’t feel like he belonged on this journey, but he was there. He would watch quietly, as he always did. This wasn’t the time or place for demonic mischief. Let it be known though, as soon as he got to Mars, he would be unleashing all of the mischief that had been building up inside of him. It would be chaos, and he would be delighted.

They waited for a few minutes before Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, unsure. They couldn’t be too late, could they? If the last human were gone, they would have felt it, just as they had increasingly felt the loss of each one as their numbers dwindled. It had gone from a subtle awareness to a punch in the gut every time. No, it was definite. There was still a life in that house.

Movement in the window caught Crowley’s eye and he pointed to the door just as it opened, revealing, dare he say it, the most cliché, kind-looking old lady that he had ever seen. With silver hair and a deeply lined face, he could see her hundreds of years in the past wearing a pink floral apron and holding a perfectly latticed apple pie in her hands. It just felt right. “Sorry boys, it takes an old woman a few minutes to get to the door these days. But if I had known that I was going to have visitors, I would have cleaned up.”

Aziraphale turned to her, shocked by the blatant and immediate trust that they had been given, then he fell into a gleeful laugh. In that moment, he was a bookshop owner in bustling Soho again, and Crowley couldn’t help the way the corner of his mouth twitched upward. That was his angel, stunning and ethereal. Every part of him seemed to brighten. This was simultaneously the best and worst part of their journey for Crowley. Seeing Aziraphale back to himself made him feel like everything was alright again, but it was also painfully performative. Every moment of his joy drained him more, and his frivolous miracles had only increased to spite it.

A bouquet of daisies appeared behind Aziraphale’s back and he brought it forward with his signature dramatic, someone help him, whooshing sound effect, holding it out to her. “Your home is lovely, as are you.”

Heaven had moved with the humans, and their power with it. Aziraphale was working with a low battery, and he wasn’t holding back. It was endearing, but Crowley wanted to grab his hands and scream at him to stop it, to save his energy for their journey off of this planet instead. He refrained. The reaction was always worth it, anyway.

Her face was stunned, staring at the bouquet with her mouth agape. “Are those real?” She carefully reached out and took them, bringing them to her nose and breathing deeply as her eyelids fluttered closed. She was inhaling a touch of Heaven, and she clearly appreciated it for all that it was worth. “Sweetheart,” she finally spoke again with a strange sort of mischief in her voice, “how on Earth did you manage this?”

Crowley felt like he should recognize the glint in her eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t place it.

“Call it a miracle.” Aziraphale was positively beaming as he held out a hand. As she reached out and shook it, her frail fingers seemed to get lost in his grip. They were slim and bonier than Crowley himself. He was all angles and she was all joints. He could only imagine how they ached. “My name is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

“Eve,” she said softly.

Crowley snorted, then immediately shook his head and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Sorry- It’s just er, a tad ironic.”

“Dear, perhaps this isn’t the time,” Aziraphale scolded lightly.

“Come on, Angel. You know it is. Just a smidge. Or more. Definitely more.” Crowley grinned and joined the two on the doorstep, shaking her hand as well with a playful bow. “As he said, the name’s Anthony J. Crowley. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He was pleased to see her cheeks turn rosy as her eyes crinkled with smile lines. He still had his charm. “Now, as lovely as all of this is,” she began, “I can’t help but feel that we’ve skipped over a very important question.”

“And what would that be?” Crowley urged. He couldn’t help but get involved with this one. Part of him, the part that he was currently entertaining, was highly amused by the irony of her name. God still had a sense of humor, it seemed. The other part, which he stomped down with a mighty aggression, was inexplicably furious. It was just a reminder of how all of this was intentional. All part of a plan. It always was. Everything that went right was thanks to the plan and everything that went wrong was just an inevitable part of it. This was another tick on the list of things that hurt that could have been avoided if God only saw him, only cared enough to ease his suffering. Just this once. Not even for him, but for all of the life that this planet had been teeming with. For Aziraphale.

He gave his fury another stomp down and returned his attention to the woman before him.

“What on Earth are two handsome boys doing on my doorstep at the end of the world?”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale gave his usual scripted response. It was enough for her to let them inside. It always was. -- Crowley surveyed the area as she guided them into the living room, poking his head unsubtly into doorways. The interior of the house was just as cliché as the exterior, with lace doilies and fake potted plants everywhere. No one could get their hands on proper plants these days, (not even Crowley without the help of a demonic miracle, and even with that it was far too much work) so the fake ones had become all the rage. She had fading pink wallpaper and a plush, rosy carpet. Crowley had no idea how she hadn’t just crawled straight out of the past and plopped herself here. It really didn’t belong in this time period.

It looked perfect at first glance, but a closer look revealed a thin layer of dust over everything. Food ration tins and wrappers were piled just out of sight in a corner of the kitchen. There was a slight stench to her and her clothing, heavily covered by a flowery perfume. She kept up appearances as well as she could, but she was clearly struggling to care for herself at this point in her life. Aging was one thing, aging alone was another.

She didn’t seem to mind his intrusive spying though, gratefully accepting Aziraphale’s help to settle down into a rocking chair with popping joints and a weary sigh. It seemed like she was just happy for the company, and maybe she knew she was close enough to the end that it didn’t matter if they were raiders come to steal everything from her.

“Thank you. Now please, do sit. Talk to me, tell me about the world.” She gestured to the couch across from her with a soft smile.

“The world is beautiful, even now,” Aziraphale said with a soft longing as he did as he was told. He looked up at Crowley, expecting him to join, but the demon pretended not to notice. He was occupying himself looking at pictures instead. Aziraphale quickly accepted his distraction and carried on alone. “I’ll tell you anything you like, but I want to hear about you and your life, too.”

Crowley only kept half of his attention on the conversation, matching up her words with the pictures on her mantle. He picked one up and held it carefully. Smiling faces stared back at him as he dusted off the glass. Two women standing on the front porch, the more proper and poised one clearly being Eve. She stood next to another who hung an arm over her shoulders with a blinding, playful grin, holding up a peace sign with her fingers. They were married, if the matching rings on their fingers had anything to say about it. Three kids, two boys and one girl, sitting on the porch step and looking like they were playfully teasing each other. It had been a while since Crowley had seen such life. He ached to join them, up there on the red planet. He had a soft spot for kids.

He could imagine them all, running around this house and filling it with noise and joy. The mischief the kids could have gotten up to, stealing cookies and fighting over toys. Screaming tantrums scattered between happy laughter. Tired parents flopping down on the couch once the kids had gone to bed, expecting a night alone but interrupted by the youngest child with a nightmare instead. Stolen sex in the moments where the kids were at school or with friends. Covering for each other when they got caught getting into trouble. All of those cliché things to fit this cliché house and its cliché resident. He longed for it. He would never admit how he longed.

“—remember the sunset, before the sky was filled with too much dust to—"

Eve was cut off by Crowley interjecting. “What happened to your family?” He held up the photo, turning to address the two that had been deep in conversation for a while now.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale warned. They were here to help them, not to hurt them by bringing up memories of the past. Crowley ignored it.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Bring it here, please,” she said, holding out a lightly trembling hand.

He brought it to her, watching her run her fingertips over each of the faces and smile. Slowly, he moved back to join Aziraphale on the couch. He sat on the very edge, leaning his elbows on his sprawled-out knees and watching her like prey, not intending to miss a single emotion that passed over her face.

Aziraphale’s fingertips trailed along his inner forearm and took his hand, pulling it into his own lap and lacing their fingers together as he leaned forward too. They watched intently together.

“This is Rose,” Eve began, with a small upward curve on her lips. Aziraphale’s fingers tightened in Crowley’s, reacting to the tangible feeling of love that had burst from her. “She was the brightest of us, the best of us. She was so smart, and such a wonderful mother…”

Crowley took note of the past tense. He had assumed, but there was the possibility that she had left with the kids, taking them to their new safe haven. The kids. That’s what he needed to hear about. Tell him about the kids.

“Charlie, the oldest… he has her smarts. He’s a scientist, you know. He helped with the plans to fit people on the rockets. He tried so hard to get me to come with him… Ada, the middle child, here,” she pointed to the girl in the photograph, holding it out so Aziraphale could see. “She does maintenance on the space station. She’s so good with her hands, she can fix everything. Used to fix the television set for me to get channels I wasn’t meant to have, little devil.” Her eyes glanced up at Crowley, who suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. He wasn’t sure what that look had meant, and the timing of it set him on edge. “And the baby, Oliver. He’s going to school. I think he still is, anyway. Last time I spoke to him he talked about dropping out… but I like to imagine that he’s still studying art…”

They were alive and thriving, it seemed. Present tense. Crowley leaned back, letting his thigh fall against Aziraphale’s in relief. He made a mental note to find Ada when they finally joined the rest of the humans. She seemed like she would be fun.

“They sound lovely,” Aziraphale said, his eyes lighting up with delight.

“Oh, they are,” Eve smiled widely, remembering more that she wasn’t saying. “They are.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Crowley asked.

She shook her head, the smile falling. “I don’t belong up there. This is my home…” Then her face hardened, and the story was over. “I’m sorry boys, but I need my rest.”

Crowley wanted to ask so many more questions, but Aziraphale nodded and stood, pulling Crowley along with him. He led them to the kitchen while she leaned back and closed her eyes. It was such an abrupt stop to the conversation. Crowley wanted to shake her until she opened her eyes and continued her story. He needed to know why she didn’t go with her family. They were hers, and she belonged with them, not with this dying shell of a planet. People aren’t supposed to shove their children out and stay behind without a word.

As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Aziraphale’s arms were around Crowley’s shoulders and wrapping him into a hug. “I’m sorry for making you do this with me, dear. I know it’s difficult.”

“I chose to stay,” Crowley muttered, staying perfectly still. He had too many things on his mind. It felt like he was being torn in two. But that wasn’t the point, they weren’t talking about him. They were supposed to be talking about her family. He wanted to charge right back in there, but Aziraphale didn’t release him.

“For me. You want to be up there. I know it’s hurting you.” Aziraphale leaned back to look at him, pressing a warm hand to his cheek. Maybe he was just an angel high off the love that he had felt from her, but his eyes were damp. “You love them all so much, I know it’s hard for you to—”

“They’re cockroaches, like I said,” Crowley hissed, trampling whatever compliments and reassurances Aziraphale was planning on giving him. “They ruin what they’re given, and they abandon it like it doesn’t even matter. They killed our planet and they’ll kill the next one too, and the next one and the one after that. They’ll kill their way through the entire galaxy if they’re allowed.”

Aziraphale let him ride out his outburst with practiced patience, his hand falling from Crowley’s cheek to his chest. He would wait until Crowley was done, until his rage had cooled from an angry boil to a simmer, and then they would talk. But that didn’t happen, not this time. Crowley squirmed out of the angel’s grip and stormed off to the porch, slamming the door behind him. Aziraphale didn’t follow.

A dust storm had kicked off outside, but it didn’t dare touch him right now. He stomped down the steps, turned, and gave them a swift kick accented by a loud growl. Then he sank down onto the lowest step and hung his head in his hands. “You just sit up there and let them destroy everything that matters,” he mumbled. “You can’t just step in for once, can’t just help them clean up their mess this one time.”

He slammed his fist down onto the wood and turned his face to the dirty sky. “You call them your children, but you don’t even bother to guide them! They pray to you! How many begged you to fix this? You could have. You could have saved everything!”

This was pointless, he knew, and he slumped down to lay on those steps and stare at the ground. Getting angry wouldn’t change anything. What was he doing having this outburst now, anyway? It was the same old thing. He should be used to it by now.

He had just wanted things to stay the same. He had finally settled into a life that he could get used to. He had planted roots and he didn’t even have to yell at them to grow. They burst up through the ground and blossomed more beautifully than he could have ever imagined. His life with Aziraphale was perfect until the world went to shit. He thought that the big one would be Heaven and Hell versus the humans, but he was wrong. It was Heaven and Hell and the humans versus Crowley and the planet. He loved them, but he also hated them. That’s where his anger lied. He had made his home with them and they betrayed him.

Maybe he wouldn’t go join them on Mars. Maybe he would just lay on this stoop until the world swallowed him up in its last dying breaths.

Aziraphale wouldn’t let that happen.

He still wanted to join them, anyway. If only to make their lives hell (he couldn’t help but love them, still). -- Eventually, he put himself back together and reentered the house. Everything had been cleaned to a shine, and Crowley cursed himself for leaving Aziraphale to his own devices. He didn’t have enough left in him to be doing all of this for her. Crowley found him after a few minutes of exploration, cleaning the bathroom sink by hand. His sleeves were rolled up, a sponge held tightly in his hands. So, it wasn’t by miracles after all. Was he unable, or did he just want to keep his hands busy? Crowley didn’t ask.

“You’re awful at that, give it to me,” Crowley muttered as he pushed Aziraphale aside and snatched the sponge.

Aziraphale looked unbothered, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and watching him. It was a familiar gaze, taking stock of the hurt and the anger and organizing it into the right places of understanding. “You and Eve have more in common than you think,” he finally said.

“Ah, the Biblical names. You caught that too. You’ve always been so clever.” It was a lazy deflection, and he really hadn’t expected it to work. It was completely ignored, and rightly so.

“She loves the world so much that she couldn’t leave it behind. You love it so much that you wanted to leave, before it made you accept that it’s dying.” His tone was gentle, making Crowley bristle down to his core as he aggressively scrubbed the porcelain sink. “I know you’re angry, dear. I hate to admit it, but so am I.”

Crowley’s hands stilled, his fingertips digging into the edge of the counter. “It has been a while since you baked, hasn’t it?”

“Er- what?” That comment had hit him like a foul ball. Where had that come from? He turned to blink at Aziraphale in confusion, met with a smug grin. That bastard of an angel was up to something. It had completely sideswiped his rage and sent it hurtling off into space.

Standing, Aziraphale rolled his sleeves back down and straightened his tartan bowtie. “I’ve heard that you can do a lot with an apple. Surely that hasn’t changed?”

It was said like a challenge, one that Crowley would definitely meet head on. Before he could respond, Aziraphale gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and disappeared from the bathroom, leaving Crowley to continue scrubbing. Wait. He suddenly realized that he had been roped into finishing the cleaning.

“Bless it,” he hissed. -- The smell of apples and cinnamon wafted through the house, and Crowley was proud to say that it was absolutely devilish. Not even Aziraphale would dare to call it heavenly. He had imagined Eve as the one with the apple pie, but now it was him. He had even found a pink floral apron, just as he had expected. He had tied that around his waist the moment he saw it, of course.

“Is that…?” Eve’s groggy voice drifted in from the living room as she woke and Crowley grinned.

“It is,” Aziraphale’s voice confirmed, that bastardly mischief still in his voice. If God wanted to be ironic, then so would Crowley. He would watch Eve take a bite and he would revel in it. The first and last women on Earth would taste the forbidden fruit under his watchful eye. It wouldn’t do much, of course. Not at this point. But for Crowley, it was just the amount of spite that he needed to get through all of this until they could leave and put it all behind them. He would pretend it never happened, and every day would bring him further away from the end of the world. Just like the 1400s.

He focused on his presentation, perfectly cutting the slices and setting them onto plates. When he brought them out, he had a sharp grin on his face, laying on the charm. He was thrilled by her hungry eyes, immediately reaching out for the plate and bringing it up to her nose just as she had done with Aziraphale’s flowers. After she had savored the scent, she looked at Crowley with a raised eyebrow, suspicious and amused. “Dare I ask where you got the apples?”

“Better not,” Crowley purred as he turned and handed Aziraphale a plate, settling onto the couch next to him with one of his own. “But I will tell you, they are sinfully delicious.”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Aziraphale sighed fondly with a roll of his eyes. The demon was playing it up too much, but he seemed to enjoy it just a little bit. Eve didn’t seem to mind the questionable sources, digging into the pie like it was the first meal she had ever eaten. It had been a while since she had eaten real food, if her ration remains were to be trusted. Crowley watched, feeling just the right amount of satisfaction to tide him over. Then he glanced to Aziraphale, and that satisfaction only grew. Take that, God. There was an angel devouring the fruit of knowledge, knowing exactly what it was. Or, what it was a descendant of at least. Apples had lost that power as soon as the first one had been bitten into, but the metaphor still stood.

They ate in silence, each savoring the taste of real food for the first time in a while. It wasn’t quite as good as the real thing, being cheated up by a demonic miracle, but it seemed even better in the current times. Finally, Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and set his plate on the coffee table in front of him.

“Eve,” he began, his shoulders back and chin up, determined. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?” She said, lowering her fork to her plate and looking at him expectantly. Then with a whoosh of air that tickled the back of Crowley’s neck, Aziraphale’s wings extended into the realm of human perception. “I am an angel, and Crowley is a demon.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He had not been given the whole ‘revealing Heaven and Hell to the human’ memo, but apparently that was a thing now. There wasn’t even any build up to it. No dramatics. He just kind of, let loose and revealed the secret like it was nothing. Aziraphale nudged him and Crowley sighed. Fine, dramatics be damned, then. He let his own black wings stretch out behind him as well with a shrug. He muttered, “the fruit of knowledge strikes again.”

There was no extreme reaction, no shock or surprise. They had never revealed themselves to a human before (well, not without the whole dramatic build-up of killing the four horsemen and stopping Satan himself. That hadn’t exactly been an intentional revelation, and the humans didn’t even remember it, so it didn’t count), but he had expected at least… well, something.

“Is that all?” She asked, taking another bite of pie.

“Er, yes. That’s… all.” Aziraphale was dumbfounded, looking at each other’s wings to make sure they were there and glancing at Crowley, who only returned the questioning look with another shrug. Until-

“Wait. You’ve known the whole time!” Crowley realized abruptly, setting his own plate down on the table with a clatter. “That’s why you trusted us. That’s why you weren’t surprised by the flowers!” He laughed with a snake-like roll of his head. “Ooh, you’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?”

Eve laughed then, a tired sound that seemed to get stuck in her chest halfway up. “When you’re as close to death as I am, and far from the rest of humanity, I think Heaven and Hell stop caring about their secrets so much.”

Aziraphale was taking a bit longer on the uptake. “But… why didn’t you say anything?”

“What would I say? It didn’t matter to me. I just enjoyed the company. Though I really wasn’t expecting you to reveal your secret. So, if it makes you feel any better, I am a little surprised.” Eve gave him a slightly apologetic smile.

“I… wanted you to know that you were being looked after. You’re the last person on Earth, and—”

Shaking his head, Crowley made a gesture for Aziraphale to shush. He hadn’t meant to tell her that part. He didn’t want to make her feel alone.

Eve set her plate down on her lap, letting out a slow breath. That was definitely news to her. “Wow. I guess…” Crowley braced himself for an influx of human emotion, but it didn’t come. “I really stuck it out then, didn’t I?”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked, surprised by this woman yet again. She had accepted all of this already, it seemed. Crowley wondered for a moment why they were even there. She had the whole moving on thing down to a science. Eve shook her head, leaning back in her rocking chair and closing her eyes. She didn’t want to discuss it further, clearly. She looked tired, and her hands hung loosely off the arms of the rocker. Crowley had another sudden realization, that she was far worse off than she seemed.

With a dismissive sigh, she changed the subject. “Tell me about the world, Aziraphale. All of it. And don’t leave out any of the parts about you two.”

Aziraphale looked completely unsure of what to do. But she had made a request, and he wasn’t about to deny it. “Well…” He looked to Crowley, seeking permission and receiving a nod in return. It was a good story to end with. “In the beginning, there was a garden. He was a wily serpent, and I was on apple tree duty…” -- It hurt, when she was gone. Crowley felt it tear at his chest, but Aziraphale was the one who had it the worst. He sat on his knees by her side for a long time, both of his hands holding one of hers. There were other humans, she wasn’t the last, but she was special.

“So,” Aziraphale finally said after a long time of mourning. It looked like he was praying, but there was nothing left to pray for. “They’ve finally left the garden.” Crowley set a hand on his shoulder, his voice soft and low. “They left the garden a long time ago.”

“I know, but… this one really felt like Eden. To me.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, tears falling from his eyes. It finally made sense then, why he had to make this journey. They had all been forced out of Eden once the humans fell. Even the angels had been sent away to Heaven, leaving the garden to die behind stone walls and locked gates. But to Aziraphale, he had found it again. He had loved it and cared for it, and despite his efforts, he was being locked out of it again. The gates would be closing soon.

“Oh, Angel.” Crowley gently took Aziraphale’s chin in his hand and pulled him up to his feet, kissing his temple. He didn’t have words of encouragement, that wasn’t his strong point, but Aziraphale could feel everything that he needed to hear rolling off of him in waves. He had done his job. He had gone above and beyond. While Heaven had moved on, he stayed to finish what had to be done. “Let’s put this garden to rest. We’ll build a new one, wherever you want to go.” -- They buried her in the dirt just off the front porch step. No miracles did it for them, just shovels, sweat, and hard work led by heart ache. When they were finished, they swept the dirt away from the porch and left the welcome mat clean. She would have wanted it ready for any potential visitors, even if they weren’t coming.

When it was done, they climbed the tallest hill around and sat at the top of it. The sun was setting, burning red behind the dust and the dirt and the crumbling atmosphere. It was horrifying, but it was also somehow beautiful.

“A long time ago, you wondered if you did the right thing,” Aziraphale said quietly, staring into the sky. “Giving them knowledge, setting them free. I think you did.”

“Don’t tell anyone else that,” Crowley sneered, staring at Aziraphale. He had seen the burning sky before. He didn’t need to say goodbye to it. It hurt too much. But looking at his angel and hearing him say that he had done the right thing all those years ago… that was what mattered. He had tried to run away from it, but he couldn’t do that this time. Crowley wasn’t one for goodbyes, but he would let Aziraphale say his.

“I wish we had more time.”

Crowley knew that tone. It was the one that Aziraphale used when he wanted something that he didn’t feel he deserved, that he couldn’t bring himself to request. His lower lip curled between his teeth, contemplating. He really couldn’t say no though, now, could he? Definitely not (It was just a stain on an old jacket, the end of the world). “A few minutes, but that’s all I can give.”

He stood, closing his eyes and lifting his hands, bringing up the last drops of Hell power remaining in this place. Time came to an abrupt stop. The dust stilled and the sun hung like a still portrait in the sky. Aziraphale inhaled deeply, lifting his chin and feeling the warmth on his face. He was beautiful, and he was sad.

Crowley stood beside him and waited, not daring to speak or touch. And maybe when he felt his power to stop time coming to an end, he looked at the sky too. And just maybe, for a second that wasn’t, he let himself feel the warmth of the sun too, the gentle burning that wasn’t Hellfire, but that gave life to the world. But he definitely managed to say goodbye, despite how it hurt. This time he would fly upward out of Eden.

Aziraphale didn’t need to say thank you, and Crowley didn’t want to hear it. When time resumed, he knew that they were finished. Their pilgrimage was finally over.

“Can we make a pit stop on the way?” The angel asked as the sun dipped down below the horizon.

“Of course, Angel. Where to?”

“Alpha Centauri.”

The demon smiled and took the angel’s hand, finally leaving the Earth behind. The gates closed and locked. Something shifted beneath the dirt of a home that held just enough love, and just enough defiance, to give life to something new.

Roots burst forth from an apple seed. Maybe it really was all part of the plan, not that Crowley would ever know that.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. This story is really special to me so I would love to hear your feedback. Please share it if it touched you in any way!

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fanfiction #Ineffable Husbands #Aziraphale #Crowley #Aziraphale/Crowley #Original Character #Ineffable Husbands Fanfiction #Good Omens Fic Rec #My Writing #Apocalypse and Apple Pie

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drpradnya-blog1 · 4 years

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Blog about Vitamin D

Vitamin D BLOG

Vitamin D is one of the most essential “vitamins” needed to support proper bodily functioning!

It is so important at this particular time with us spending more time indoors due to the way of the world that we all need to supplement our diets and bodies with this essential nutrient.

WHY WE NEED VITAMIN D

Vitamin D is a powerhouse nutrient responsible for the proper functioning of many bodily systems. For example, it:

regulates levels of calcium in the bloodstream and is essential to bone formation

strengthens immunity and protects the body from illness and infection

reduces inflammation and autoimmune response

improves mood and has been shown to improve symptoms of depression

defends cells against cancer (vitamin D deficiency is linked to numerous cancers, including some of the most common—breast, prostate, lung, colorectal, leukaemia, bladder, pancreatic and lymphoid just to name a few!)

So how does Vitamin D help support the immune system?

Vitamin D is necessary for the proper functioning of your immune system which is your body’s first line of defence against infection and disease.

This vitamin plays a critical role in promoting the immune response. It has both anti-inflammatory and immunoregulatory properties and is crucial for the activation of immune system defences which is necessary but even more crucial at this time.

Vitamin D is known to enhance the function of immune cells, including T-cells and macrophages, that protect your body against pathogens (Bacteria, fungi and viruses).

In fact, the vitamin is so important for immune function that low levels of vitamin D have been associated with an increased susceptibility to infection, disease, and immune-related disorders.

For example, low vitamin D levels are associated with an increased risk of respiratory diseases, including tuberculosis, asthma, and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), as well as viral and bacterial respiratory infections which though there is no strong evidence to support this, it is being linked to increased resistance to COVID-19.

What’s more, deficiency of Vitamin D has been linked to decreased lung function, which may affect your body’s ability to fight respiratory infections such as pneumonia and COVID-19.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF SUN EXPOSURE & VITAMIN D

Historically, the human body has synthesized vitamin D directly from sunlight. This makes sense: we’re pretty hairless and, until recently, spent significant time each day outside. Most of our human evolution occurred around the equator where there was plenty of sunlight year-round, and even after branching off to northern latitudes, a notable adaptation occurred: because melanin (the pigment in skin that gives it colour) protects skin cells from sun exposure and slows vitamin D production, early humans living in northern, less sun-intense climates developed lighter skin to maximize vitamin D production.

Very few food sources contain vitamin D, the main exception being the liver of fatty fish. It’s no coincidence that indigenous Arctic populations, living without strong sunlight much of the year, have historically consumed plenty of vitamin D-rich marine foods.

Now, modern lifestyle factors are significantly reducing our levels of vitamin D: we spend our days inside, cover ourselves in clothing and sunscreen when we do go outside, and eat a primarily Western diet that does not contain food sources rich in vitamin D.

ARE WE VITAMIN D DEFICIENT?

Chances are: yes. Vitamin D is one of the most prominent vitamin deficiencies in modern society.

Vitamin D deficiency is commonly known for causing rickets (soft bones in children), but there are many other symptoms that often go unnoticed and undiagnosed, as they can be subtle, or presumed to be caused by something else.

SYMPTOMS OF VITAMIN D DEFICIENCY INCLUDE:

Getting sick regularly or having trouble fighting off infections

Fatigue

Depression

Slow healing of wounds

Bone loss (osteoporosis) and increased risk of fractures

Hair loss

Increased reports of pain, including muscle pain and back pain

If you think your vitamin D levels may be low, ask your doctor to test them. If your levels are on the low end, there are several ways to raise them with lifestyle and nutrition.

A Daily intake of 400-800IU of Vitamin D supplements are recommended depending on age though we take more. You can take upto 4000 IU daily but not to sustain these levels for too many months.

BEST SOURCES OF VITAMIN D

SUNLIGHT

Likely the best way to get healthy doses of vitamin D is via natural sunlight.

How much sun exposure you need varies depending on your skin colour, strength of sun (location, time of year and time of day), cloud cover, pollution, and even what your diet is like. But, as a guide a light-skinned individual typically needs 20-30 minutes of midday sun to produce a requisite amount of vitamin D daily. Because more melanin = more natural sun protection, people with darker skin need more sun exposure to produce the same amount of vitamin D—up to 2-2.5 hours for the same effect.

Sun damage and skin cancer are real concerns , and sufficient sun exposure should not result in burning. People with very light skin or those not used to being in the sun regularly will need to gradually work up to the recommend exposure so there is no lasting damage to their delicate skins.

A few other notes on obtaining vitamin D from sunlight:

Vitamin D is synthesized from UVB rays, which do not penetrate glass—so while sitting in the sunlight in a sunny window certainly has other benefits (it’s good for your mood, for one!), it’s not actually resulting in vitamin D3 synthesis.

The more skin exposed to the sun, the more vitamin D3 synthesis occurs. So, if you spend time outside with only your face and hands exposed, you’ll produce less vitamin D3 than if you were laying out in a bathing suit.

UVB tanning beds are potentially a method for obtaining vitamin D, though they should only be used very carefully and minimally—it takes considerably less exposure in a tanning bed to achieve the same effect as natural sunlight.

Your body can store vitamin D3 for weeks or months at a time, so experiencing some period of time without sun may not radically reduce your blood levels.

FOOD SOURCES OF VITAMIN D

Though there are not many food sources containing sufficient levels of vitamin D, there are a few specific foods high in this nutrient, most of which have been used for centuries by populations without access to year-round sunshine. Without any sunlight you’d have to eat these foods in large quantities daily to get enough vitamin D… but occasional consumption can also supplement moderate sunlight exposure.

The best food sources of vitamin D are:

Fatty fish: salmon, sardines, herring, tuna

Oysters, shrimp

Egg yolks (Note: Eggs from pasture-raised chickens—those roaming outside in sunlight—contain 3-4 times the vitamin D as those raised indoors)

Mushrooms

Cod liver oil

Fortified foods: cow’s milk, soy milk and cereals are often fortified with vitamin D, though usually at lower levels than natural sources

There are two types of vitamin D obtained from food sources: D2, found in plants and yeasts, and D3, found in animal products. D3 is more effective at raising blood levels of vitamin D.

VITAMIN D SUPPLEMENTS

If your lifestyle and diet prevent regular, sufficient sun exposure or food sources of vitamin D, it is possible to improve your levels with a vitamin D supplement. In general we aim for up to 4,000 IU daily.

People with a heavier body mass require more Vitamin D3 and a new study suggests the more weight you carry around your waist, the lower your Vitamin D3 levels. Recent findings show that belly fat has a greater impact on Vitamin D levels than overall fat.

Skin Southwest are now offering supplements from Award Winning ZENii and these include’ Sunshine in a bottle’ which are capsules designed to take daily and equate to 2000 IU which is recommended by Public Health England.

120 Capsules cost £25.00.

Email: [email protected]

Visit www.skinsouthwest.co.uk

#vitamind #health #wellness #sunshine #drpradnya #skinsouthwest

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haruki-ya · 5 years

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Icy

Summary: Ok so, here's another self indulgent non-canon complacent aged up AU thing where Kaneda and the Capsules, who are more a gang of friends as opposed to a real gang, work with Joker at his automotive shop. Joker runs a black market parts ring under the table which brings all kinds of customers into the shop: Kei is one of them, still a prominent member of the Resistance that continues to fight against the government's unethical and unlawful treatment of it's citizens. Going into the shop, Kei naturally means business so of course, in comparison, Kaneda does not.

What follows is a tense test of wills. One icy, iron clad, seemingly impenetrable. The other aloof, arrogant, endlessly aggravating. Despite the mutual pain they cause one another, both get something out if it in the end. Even if it's not exactly what either of them really wants.

A/N: tbh it’s p much just an excuse for me to write out how I see the foundation of kaneda and kei’s relationship, who are 18 and 20 here respectively...and for me to keep everyone alive lmao. also full disclosure I know nothing about tanks and just picked some parts at random to throw in the story and this is really long i’m sorry haha ok bye

The bell ringing on the shop door as it opens catches Kaneda’s attention, makes him look up past his Shonen Jump and crossed feet on the counter.

There are a few customers wandering around the store, but they’ve been here for at least ten minutes, discouraged by his inattentive, uncaring demeanor- good. He doesn’t wanna explain to them which motor oil would be best for their shitty Honda Accords or where exactly you’re supposed to put the damn transmission fluid. It may be his job, but god damn if it isn’t annoying answering the same stupid questions day in day out. Kaneda hopes whoever entered won’t bother him with twenty useless questions, but with his luck they’ll be askin thirty-five.

The door closes softly with a tinkle and Kaneda takes a cursory glance at the woman who entered before turning his attention back to his magazine- hoping to keep up the air of “leave me the fuck alone" -but that’s before his brain really processes who exactly walked in the store. Or more like what. An angel? He does an unashamed double take.

Kaneda is drawn immediately in by her tight clothes, her straight posture, her well coiffed appearance. The coldness of her features are striking against the warmth of her yellow toned coat, the tan of her flawless skin. Her very presence is captivating, even from across the small store: his eyes are positively glued to the tall, trim figure that sticks out like a sore thumb in the dirty lobby of Joker’s Automotive Inc.

If Kaneda were any less observant, he would immediately write her off as just another flirt lookin’ for a fly to catch- for a free tune up from the eager boys in back. But her hands, while well manicured, look worn, scarred. The sweep of her head left to right is observant, but not of the products lining their isles of shelves: of the people moving between them. Calculating risks, weighing options.

Those are not qualities you find in your run of the mill city girl.

She treads softly towards Kaneda, but her gait speaks purpose. Her heels click click click steadily on the checkered linoleum floor, not asking for attention, demanding. Her eyes are covered by darkly tinted shades, but Kaneda can still see that she is looking at him…and he can’t fight a dopey smile from spreading on his face. She doesn’t smile back.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

“What can I do for ya’ miss?” She’s only about two feet away now and her approach slows as Kaneda uncrosses his feet and tosses his magazine off to the side. She stops right as Kaneda’s feet stomp on the ground and he pushes himself up to his full height, only slightly bothered by the fact that she lords over him a solid three inches. Must be the heels.

“I’m here to speak with Joker.” Her voice oh shit is sweet like honey, burns in his veins like aged whiskey. She sounds just like she looks: bold, purposeful, husky in that sensual feminine way. Ready to cut to the chase and get down to business. Kaneda idly thinks he hasn’t taken to a girl so quickly in his whole life- and that may actually be true this time.

Kaneda keeps up his wide smile and air of politeness as he spreads his hands in an apologetic manner. Her face remains coldly detached- unimpressed. Time to up the ante.

“Sorry miss, but Joker’s not in right now. What is it you’re lookin’ for? I’m sure I could be much more helpful in satisfying your needs.” Now that garners a reaction. A slight twitch of the lips, one slowly raised eyebrow. She takes a step forward, now standing more around four inches taller than Kaneda. He cocks his head to the side as her eyes narrow behind her shades.

“You misunderstood. I’m here to talk to Joker, in private.” And that garners a reaction from him.

Sure, people come in asking for Joker all the time. It is his shop after all. Kaneda and the boys just work here. But people only ask twice and in private for jobs that don’t get written into the books- not the federally taxed ones anyway.

Joker runs a black market parts ring under the table, steals and deals high demand items for a specific type of clientele: a specific high paying type of clientele. Joker meets with the customer, estimates the plausibility of their demand, Joker gets paid to complete it, the boys help make arrangements for it, Joker gets it, the boys deliver it. Simple as that.

It’s become as easy as breathing for Kaneda and co., who have no problem with the risks and dangers of such a, well, risky and dangerous job. It’s only cause the pay is borderline lucrative and Kaneda and the boys never really have been good at being good.

What is a pretty girl like her doing asking for a service like that? Kaneda is only growing more intrigued- more eager to make her lose her temper. Something in Kaneda wants so desperately to see that cool facade crack, to see her calm, poised air fall under his “charismatic” ways. He’s always been good at pushing buttons. It really is a wonder he usually gets stuck with counter duty.

“Well, I understand alright, but there’s not much I can do for you since he’s not in right now.” Her face falls back into it’s stony mask and Kaneda shoves his foot in his mouth trying to remedy the situation, wanting to keep up the progression of facial expressions, not shut them down before the real fun starts.

“I can take a name and message though no sweat...and if you’re feeling generous maybe you could throw in your number, just for me.” She crosses her arms swiftly at Kaneda’s broad smile, at his wink- worth a shot.

“When will he be back in?” She chooses not to acknowledge Kaneda’s advance, bold choice he will admit, but only because that means he has to try harder now.

Kaneda shrugs, starts picking at his nails as if he doesn’t really care- but he does, of course. Anyone coming through looking for Joker is just as important to Kaneda as to the big lard-ass himself. They’re both paying his bills after all.

“Not sure miss, I’m not his damn secretary...I’m sure he’d consider you for the job though. One look at you and you’re hired. It'd be nice to have a pretty face hangin' around for once.” Yet another twitch of the lips, a shift in her solid stance.

“Is there a manager in store aside from Joker?” There’s a hint of thinly veiled impatience in her voice and Kaneda grins to himself on the inside. Jackpot.

“Yup! You’re looking at ‘em! All special requests go through me, the right hand man.” Kaneda too crosses his arms, puffs out his chest and widens his stance a little bit to mirror her power pose. “But that’s beside the point, your number on the other hand…”

Something like a smile- more a smirk than anything holy shit -melts away her frown as she slowly, deliberately lowers her shades down the bridge of her nose to glance at Kaneda’s chest. Impressed by his buff arms, no doubt.

“You’re no manager. That much is clear.” Kaneda’s smile twitches, but holds strong. That obvious challenge of his authority, the combative look that glitters in her bright eyes, is not what he expected, but certainly isn’t enough to throw him off balance. Right?

“And what makes you say that?”

“Your name tag is upside down...Mr. Shotaro.” Kaneda flushes at her mocking tone, her confident smirk, resists the urge to fix his name tag which upon a quick glance downwards- yup, is indeed upside down. He plays it cool instead. Or tries to.

“That’s-that’s just the new style. Someone like you wouldn’t know how the working class operates anyhow!”

“Oh, and what exactly makes you say that?” There’s a real edge to her voice now as she parrots Kaneda’s words and he doesn’t miss the way her hands clench slowly into fists. As is she wants to smack him right where he stands, but is holding herself back. A real spitfire he sees. Kaneda uncrosses his arms to throw a hand on his hip and a cocky smile on his face and goes in for the kill.

“Haha really? You look like you haven’t worked a day in your whole life. Probably live off of daddy’s hard earned money. You even know what a tax refund is doll face?”

The woman’s whole demeanor seems to shift at that. There’s nothing subtle about it, like watching fast approaching thunderclouds roll quickly, all encompassing, over skyscrapers and cityscapes. Throwing the people caught underneath into a panic. Powerless against the force of Mother Nature.

Kaneda swallows hard and strains his smile in the hopes that she can’t sense his sudden discomfort. Maybe he shouldn’t have called her doll face...

“I’ll leave a message for Joker. I’d hate to run into you again were I to come back. Get a pen and paper ready, I won’t repeat myself.” Her voice has dropped an octave, entered a dangerous, very obvious territory of “try me again ”.

And so naturally, of course, Kaneda does.

“Hah, pen and paper, how hard can your order be babe? Need an oil change? A custom made paint job for your bug? Want me to show you how to properly lubricate your bearings while we’re at it?” Still, despite his nasty jest, he lazily reaches for a pad of paper and a pen. Just to humor her.

And well, to write down her order with.

He’s a jackass and a dumbass, but rarely both at the same time. Is leaning more towards the former at this particular moment.

A fierce scowl mars her pretty face and god damn how does that make her more attractive? She takes another step closer, body flush with the counter, and Kaneda gets a good whiff of her perfume: green tea leaves, bright citrus, and just a hint of earthy sandalwood. Definitely angelic then.

“You’re absolutely disgustingly insufferable.” Her eyes, like her words, are sharp, a biting amber that cut straight through Kaneda, make his knees almost feel weak. Her lashes are long, bat furiously against the rim of her shades.

“And you’re just too damn sweet.” And honestly, he does mean that. Kaneda’s certainly been called much worse.

Sighing sharply out her nose, she uncrosses her arms and leans away. Shakes her head almost imperceptibly in - disgust? disapproval? Probably both if Kaneda’s involved, but he’s confident she’ll come around. That he’ll be able to coax a smile out of her after he makes her scowl a whole bunch more first. He wants to see the calm beyond her stormy demeanor, to know what else can be found beyond her icy expressions.

Right as he’s about to try again, she jerks her head towards him and speaks lowly. Drops her crossed arms to cock her hip and place her hand on her waist, a mirror image of Kaneda's own posture. He notices the fingers of her other hand tap steadily at her thigh.

“I need one GE T700 gas turbine engine, two M1 fume extractors, four drive sprockets, two sixteen toothed the other twenty, approximately seven and a half gallons of liquid EN 1063, and maybe if you’re feeling generous you could throw in a little respect ...just for me and my high paying associates. Does that sound doable?”

Kaneda’s jaw flaps like a fish out of water, both at her deadpan tone and the order itself. Does that sound doable?

“Are you trying to build a fucking tank?!” Is what he blurts out and it’s obviously the wrong thing to say, even Kaneda knows that before seeing her face close off again and something downright unpleasant twist her features. Long gone is that pretty girl scowl, replaced in turn by pure scorn.

Man, cute but intimidating. Who knew that was his type?

“...Right, tell Joker Ryu won’t be happy. Especially not with you, Shotaro Kaneda.” The threat in her voice is just that, a threat. Very real, very pressing, and Kaneda actually does know why he’s put on counter duty so often- he’s good at weeding out potential, at differentiating between empty threats and real ones. And this bitch of a beauty is dishing out some serious, “you’re gonna regret this” vibes.

His words stumble over themselves as she turns sharply on her heel, as if to leave, because Kaneda just can’t have that, pride and joy be damned.

“Wait, wait, wait, look, I’m sorry! I, uh, I’m sorry I haven’t been taking you seriously. I just, well...don’t see a lot of pretty faces like yours 'round here. I couldn’t help myself…and that order request? Totally not what I was expecting either.” She halts suddenly, spins around once again and glowers at him before re-crossing her arms. They’re just feeding off one another’s tension at this point.

“And what were you expecting? That I’d come straight in asking for the Shotaro Special and have you take me to the break room for a good time?” God damn, she fired that one back quick as a whip, a fire in her voice that ignites so suddenly even Kaneda is weary of continuing his little game with her.

“Uh, well...if that’s what you want, I only aim to please the high paying customer.” But he’s truly sincerely never been good with self control.

“You’re arrogance has no end, does it…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll grow on ya’.” He always does.

“Who says I’ll be back?” And at this Kaneda raises a brow, smirks at her ruffled expression and leans towards it with both palms flush on the counter. There’s a newfound confidence in his words with the ball safely back in his court.

“If you’re serious about this order, no one but Joker can get what you need...I can call him up right now and toss it his way, see what he has to say about it. Or you can go try your luck elsewhere. Be my guest, miss. You won’t find service quite like ours anywhere else though.”

She stares at him intensely with those bright amber eyes of hers, unblinking, unmoving. Pensive. Kaneda thinks he broke her up until the point where she sighs out her nose and uncrosses her arms. It’s as good an invitation to continue as any. Kaneda smiles and pushes off the counter, picks up the pen by his hand and starts to twirl it.

“You mentioned the name Rua?”

“...Ryu. He’s made orders with Joker before. Shouldn’t be a problem but if he asks tell him Kei personally came in to meet with him.” The woman- no, Kei -speaks through a frown, obviously not wanting to accept his apology, but willing to work with it anyway. Smart, sassy, sexy. She just keeps getting better and better.

“Kei, huh.” Three different meanings come to mind: respect, blessing, wise. “…It suits you.”

Kei must sense the shift in his tone, the sincerity in his voice because her brows furrow in thought before she accepts the comment. “...Thank you.” Although begrudgingly, if her hesitation is anything to go by.

Kaneda sends her a smile, not sarcastic, not teasing. About as genuine as Kaneda can manage in this situation. It quickly warps into one of sheepishness though, as he begins to rub nervously at the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Uh, hey though, listen...I know you said you wouldn’t repeat yourself…” Kei sighs and holds out her hand, acting put upon by his attitude and really...it’s probably not an act at this point. Maybe he should tone it down.

“Give me that, I’ll write the order down.” With a laugh he hands over the pad of paper, stained with an aged brown coffee ring, and the pen he’s been fiddling with. Their skin brushes against one another during the exchange and Kaneda’s attention is once more drawn to the elegant shape of her hands, the scars both old and new that mar them. Her skin is soft despite the raised tissue, the callouses, and he swallows around an urge to feel her hands held fully within his own.

“I gotta know, since me and my boys will be the ones getting all this shit…are you trying to build a tank?” He diverts both their attention with that one, tries to keep his mind strictly business from here on out. Kei hums to acknowledge she heard him, but has bent low over the counter to focus on what she’s writing.

“Ultimately...yes. With some minor adjustments here and there.”

“What the ever loving hell do you need a tank for? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think that’s incredibly se-super badass of you but also uh...a bit big to be riding down the street to the grocery store with.” Nice save, Shotaro. Pet names and compliments, not compatible with Kei. Time to keep it strictly business.

Kei glances at him above the rim of her sunglasses, before turning her attention back to the paper. “...I don’t think you’re a trustworthy person to confide in with such information, Shotaro.” The finality of her tone almost makes Kaneda pout, almost, but he has appearances to uphold here.

“Awe come on! S’not like anyone would believe me if I told them some chick named Kei walked in with her heels and shades asking for parts to build a tank with.” Where Kaneda laughs, Kei scowls. Sends him another shaded glare. She’s just bursting at the seams with those isn’t she?

“So that means you would tell someone.” Not a question so much a statement and Kaneda backtracks again as her eyes stare accusingly at him. She straightens to her full height and damn, is she five inches taller than him now?

“Wha-wait, no, that was just a what if scenario-” Kei cuts him off with a clipped tone. Strictly business.

“The people I work with don’t have time for loose lipped gossip let alone what if scenarios, do you understand? There is more at stake here than you could ever understand.”

Kaneda, believe it or not, is growing tired of her cold seriousness, of her combative nature- despite himself probably being the driving cause behind it. He thinks at the very least there’s more to her than a pretty face and bitchy attitude and he's just about past the point of wanting to get a rise out of her, bored with his own tactics. He knows now that joking and flirting with her only tightens the reins on her formal cordiality, so he’s at least trying to make an effort and level with her here.

He just hopes not too late.

“Then help me understand. I got things at stake here too, this job, running parts, I like to know what I’m getting myself into beforehand. I’d be putting my ass on the line for you in this situation after all…I’ll personally accept a date as safety insurance though.” Kaneda, acting on instinct as always, is unable to keep that last bit to himself. Is sure she’ll roll her eyes at that one, maybe shoot him a scorching look, but all he gets is an exasperated sigh. A considerate head tilt.

Is that a hint of amusement he sees on her face?

“...When Joker gets in, ask him about the Resistance. I trust him to tell you more about it, about us. Ryu is a strong figurehead in the fight against government tyranny...he’s truly an inspiring man. These parts are detrimental to the success of our next plan to keep the fight in our favor. The last engine we had failed on us before we even left the compound.”

Kaneda, ever curious, can’t help but ask, “And that was?”

“Honeywell AGT1500. A little too old to keep up with our movements, I think.” Kaneda whistles lowly and crosses his arms at her response, a polar shift in their dynamics from the beginning of their fast paced back and forth banter. The tension between them is all but gone now and Kei’s words seem to flow freely and easily. That chip on her shoulder gone with Kaneda’s flirtiness- almost -in check.

“Now where the hell did you get an engine like that?”

“Probably the same place Joker will be getting this newer model.” She pauses to hold up the piece of paper with the order details written neatly on it before sliding it face down towards him.

“This city is full of surprises if you know where to look.”

“Huh…” Kaneda makes a thoughtful noise as he presses his palm flat over the paper. “I gotta say Kei, you’re not what I expected.”

And that comment, the one that usually always rubs people the wrong way, makes her lips curve into the closest thing to a true smile Kaneda has seen throughout the past ten minutes of conversation. If her scowl is hot, makes his knees weak, Kaneda can’t even begin to describe what her small little grin does to him.

Kei tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before replying and Kaneda has to hold himself back from chasing the action, from feeling the softness of her short hair between his own fingers. Damn, he’s got it bad for this girl.

“Let me guess, you thought you had me pegged the moment I walked in. You seem the type to care solely about appearances. Or should I say shallowly .” Kaneda laughs at her comment, lost on cloud nine, and opts to take it lightly despite the slight insult to her words.

Puts a spin on his response, just for her.

“I’m a simple man, can’t deny that, but you...you hold yourself in a different way. Your hands aren’t those of a good for nothin' free loader, I was lying when I said you probably haven’t worked a day in your life. You work plenty, and you work hard at that. Can see it in your eyes, the set of your shoulders too…there’s definitely more to you than just a pretty face.”

Kei is silent at that, her small smile gone. On her face is a new expression, one that almost looks frightened. For a moment Kaneda thinks he said something wrong, should have held his tongue like he’s never been good at doing. Strictly business and all that.

Kei's eyes bore into Kaneda’s own, gleaming in the fluorescent light like two firm copper coins. Her lips part slowly as if she is about to speak, but she quickly purses her lips instead and pushes her shades up to settle more firmly on the bridge of her nose. She takes a step back and...is that a flush Kaneda sees on her cheeks?

Check and mate.

“...I guess looks can be deceiving, no?” Her voice has gone low, almost soft, just shy of sweet and Kaneda very suddenly thinks he might be in love.

“You’re not wrong there.” Is what he says quietly in response and they stand, facing each other, for a long moment. It’s almost tender, their silence. Almost pleasant.

Until Kei clears her throat suddenly and clasps her hands behind her back. The moment is broken, but will be long from forgotten.

“Well...I’ve got to head out, handle a few more matters. Thank you for your help Kaneda, I hope to hear from Joker soon. Although, before I go, I must admit...I’m glad you recognize that I’m not one to mess around.”

Before Kaneda can say anything else, throw back some smart ass rebuttal or maybe just gawk at this amazingly unexpectedly enigmatic woman, Kei turns on her heel and click click clicks her way out the door just like she came in. Kaneda stares after her for a minute, caught up in the faint trace of her perfume that still lingers in the air. He’s not so sure she’s an angel anymore...maybe a devil in disguise.

But that works even better in his favor.

A loud klang from the door behind him makes Kaneda jump to attention and jerk around. Tetsuo is standing there, scowl on his face, oil smeared on his forehead, wiping a lug wrench clean(ish) with a dirty rag.

“I thought Joker said no more girls on the job.” Kaneda rolls his eyes and snags the list of items Kei wrote out from the counter. Very deliberately doesn’t correct Tetsuo and let’s him think she is his girl. No harm no foul.

“You’re just jealous that I’m not stuck doin’ oil changes.”

That seems to bowl away whatever comment Tetsuo had, because he scowls and mutters something- not kindly -under his breath. Kaneda can’t even be bothered. A goofy grin that’s been itching to surface manages to overtake his face now that Kei is gone- not for good. She’ll be frequenting his thoughts for probably the rest of the week.

“Whatever asshole, I’m off on lunch right now. Want Kai to take over and grab a bite with me since it’s slow?” Kaneda is touched by Tetsuo’s offer and expresses as much by clasping his hands over his heart, batting his eyes dramatically. He’s feeling all kinds of giddy after his talk with mysterious miss Kei.

“Oh Tetsuo! I thought you’d never ask! I’m so flattered that you feel this way for me, so strongly that you’d ask me out to lunch!” Tetsuo rolls his eyes at Kaneda’s antics and chucks the dirty rag in his hand at Kaneda, who throws his arm up to block the nasty thing from touching his face.

It’s then, when he’s face to face with her elegant scrawl, that Kaneda realizes he’s still holding the list of items that Kei wrote down. And that there’s also a phone number hastily scrawled below a separate note near the bottom. Kaneda shakes the rag off his forearm and eagerly reads Kei's elegant script.

Don’t even think of contacting me outside of business matters. This number isn’t for personal use, I have a separate phone for that. Maybe if you weren’t

Be less of an ass next time.

- Kei

Kaneda stops moving, stops thinking, stops breathing. There’s no way...He’s always been good at recognizing an opportunity when he sees one. And that hesitantly written note right there, with it’s crossed out words and clumsy scrawl in stark contrast to the rest of Kei’s neatly written list, means he has a chance.

He has a goddamn chance!

“A chance for what?” Tetsuo, once again, ruins the moment with his sour tone but Kaneda is through the roof with excitement, can’t hold back the whoop of happiness he lets out as he throws himself suddenly at Tetsuo, locks him into a bear hug. He ignores Tetsuo’s indignation, “Hey dumbass, let me go! What the hell is your problem?!”, and instead places a fat kiss on his friends grimy cheek. Laughs at the flush that colors Tetsuo’s face when he pulls away.

“Sorry Tets, rain check on lunch! I’ve got “after hours” business to discuss with Joker. Oh, but grab me a bento while you’re out!” Tetsuo scowls at him and rolls his eyes while violently wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Yeah right asshole. Don’t fuck around for too long or Yama will rip you a new one!” Tetsuo ducks quickly back through the doorway leading to the garage, probably hoping to evade another Kaneda brand affection attack, but it’s a useless gesture.

He’s only got one person in mind he wants to really share those with.

After hurling back a customary, “No promises!”, Kaneda resumes his stationary position in the chair behind the counter, kicks his feet up and reaches for the phone. Impatient to start his homework. After dialing the familiar number, it takes only a short moment for the person on the other end to pick up. Kaneda can’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Hey Joker, it’s Kaneda...had someone come in looking for you a minute ago, she went by the name Kei...yeah, she did...tell me first though, how much do you know about her?”

This is going to be fun.

#akira #kanekei #kaneda #kei #akira au #fuck me honestly #ughdbdhdj #my writing #just throw me off a cliff now #my work here is DONE #there's so much djknklnsdjcna #like where the hell did this come from......i really don't kno

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