#shaven kiwis

[kiwiplaetzchen]

no thoughts, just kiwis 🩷🥝💚

They look adorable!! 💚

Thank you so much!!! 💚💕🥹

#esolean #🥝🍪 #ask #kiwis with kiwis for a Kiwi #!!!!! #they look so cute! #🥺💚 #I want to boop them #even the kiwis #shaven kiwis #they look shaven #and they look happy #happy shaven kiwis #you still shouldn't bite them just like that #I don't care if every part is edible #no #stick with your nuts

[aflo]

i waxed for the first time today and it was awesome but i don't think i grew my hair out all the way bc it only took like 80% of my leg hair. also i burned the fuck out of myself on the inner thigh

#gonna try again next week when the remaining hairs grow out more #in the meantime i look like a mostly shaven kiwi

[celestial-thoughts]

stocking stuffers day 5: feather + edge

Fluff prompt: feather || Smut prompt: edge

Pairing: Rhea x Dakota

Word count: 1.2k (once again, got a little carried away)

"You won't be needing anything from in there just yet," Rhea says, her hand wrapping around Dakota's wrist and stopping her girlfriend from opening the dresser drawer.

Dakota looks up at Rhea, a shy smile on her face. Rhea had texted her earlier, telling her to shower and clean herself up after her workout. Her way of telling Dakota that she has something planned. As Dakota looks at Rhea's outfit, she can't help the small gasp of excitement that escapes her lips.

Rhea is dressed in a pair of black fishnets, and a bra that looks like it's made of black leather. She's not wearing underwear beneath her fishnets, and Dakota's cheeks flush as Rhea lifts her head up towards the Aussie woman's face. "Like what you see, princess?" Rhea asks, a teasing smirk on her face.

"Yes," Dakota breathes, letting Rhea pull her into a kiss. Dakota is wearing nothing but a light pink robe, her hair freshly washed and dried. "So, what exactly do you have in mind?" Dakota asks, running her fingers through Rhea's dark hair.

"Well first things first," Rhea begins, sliding her hands down to Dakota's waist. "Let's get this out of the way." Rhea slowly slides the robe off Dakota's body, letting it fall to the floor. "Beautiful," Rhea whispers, eyes taking in every inch of Dakota's body.

Dakota blushes, squirming under Rhea's gaze. "Really?" she asks, peaking up at Rhea with a shy expression on her face.

"Really," Rhea says, her voice firm as she tilts Dakota's head upward. "You're absolutely gorgeous, princess." Dakota smiles, a shy flush on her cheeks as she lets Rhea lead her to the bed. "Now, are you going to be a good girl for me today?" Rhea asks, as she guides Dakota to sit down, her back against the mountain of pillows by the headboard.

Dakota nods, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yes Rhea, I promise I'll be good," she says, squirming with anticipation.

Rhea smiles. "Good. Because I have something new for us to try, that I think you'll really enjoy." As she speaks, she crawls up towards Dakota, placing her hands firmly on the Kiwi girl's thighs. Slowly, Rhea pushes Dakota's legs apart, spreading them wide open and tracing a finger around the outer edge of Dakota's cleanly shaven slit.

"Rhea," Dakota moans softly, shivering under Rhea's touch.

Rhea stops her tracing, instead leaning up to kiss Dakota, long and slow. "Patience, kitten," she says. "Now, are you ready?" she asks.

"Yes Rhea," Dakota replies quickly, an excited smile on her face.

Rhea smiles, standing up and retrieving something from a nightstand drawer. "So, we're going to play a little game," she says, returning to the bed with her hands behind her back. "And there's only one rule you need to follow." She looks into Dakota's eyes, a mischievous smirk on her face. "You're not allowed to cum until I give you permission."

Dakota's eyes widen. "What?" she manages to squeak out.

"You heard me kitten," Rhea says, teasing Dakota's nipples with one hand while the other one remains behind her back. "I'm going to edge you, over and over and over, until you're begging me for release."

Dakota's cheeks flush as she moans softly. "And what if I don't?" she asks, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

Rhea smirks, playfully pinching one of Dakota's nipples. "I'm not going to tell you that just yet," she says.

A shiver runs up Dakota's spine. "What do you have behind your back?" she asks.

Rhea takes the smaller girl's chin in her hand, looking into her brown eyes. "In a moment," she promises. "First, what's your safeword?"

"Eevee," Dakota recites, suddenly feeling shy under Rhea's intense gaze.

"Good girl," Rhea praises. She slides down on the bed, kneeling between Dakota's legs. "Now, as for what I have here," she begins, moving her hand from behind her back. "I figured I would make things a little more interesting."

Dakota's eyes widen as Rhea holds up a long, fluffy black feather. "Rhea," she squeaks. "You know how-" she stammers, unable to finish her sentence as she squirms beneath Rhea's teasing gaze.

"How ticklish you are?" Rhea asks, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, I do know." She sets the feather down on the mattress, laying down on her stomach, her hands on Dakota's hips. "Now, are you going to be a good girl?" she asks again.

Dakota's breath hitches, but she nods. "Yes Rhea, I'll be a good girl," she promises.

Rhea smiles. "Good," she says. Slowly, she spreads Dakota's lips open with one hand, using the other one to trace shapes around her quivering pussy. "You're so pretty like this," Rhea says, reaching for the feather. "All needy and helpless for me."

"Rhea!" Dakota whines, cheeks flushing pink. "Don't tease!"

Rhea's smile turns into a smirk. "But you're so cute when you blush," she replies. Slowly, she begins to stroke the feather up and down Dakota's dripping slit. "How does this feel kitten?" she asks, moving the feather faster with each stroke, feeling Dakota's thighs begin to shake.

"So good," Dakota moans, squirming as the soft feather teases her sensitive pussy. Suddenly, Rhea begins to flick the feather back and forth over her clit, making her gasp. "Rhea!" she moans, her pussy growing hot and slick.

"Yes princess?" Rhea asks, continuing to tease Dakota's clit with the feather, her other hand toying with her wet slit.

Dakota lets out another moan. "Rhea, please!" she manages to say, her cheeks growing red as her legs tremble.

"What is it baby? Are you close?" Rhea asks.

Dakota gasps, breathing heavily. "Yes Rhea," she manages to say. "Please, I need to cum."

Rhea removes her fingers from Dakota's slit, continuing to tease her clit with the feather. "I'll tell you what," she says, reaching under the bed with her free hand and pulling out a timer, which she hands to Dakota. "Set this for five minutes. If you can last five minutes of me edging you, I'll let you cum. Deal?"

Dakota nods eagerly, quickly setting the timer. "Promise you'll be nice?" she asks, handing the timer back to Rhea.

A smirk forms on Rhea's lips. "I make no promises," she says, pressing a button and starting the timer.

The next five minutes feel like hours. Dakota is incoherent, cheeks flushed as she moans and gasps with every brush of the feather against her clit. "Rhea!" she moans, blushing at the sound of her wet pussy around Rhea's fingers. "Rhea, please!"

Finally, the timer goes off. Rhea begins rapidly curling and uncurling her fingers inside Dakota, the feather still teasing her swollen clit. "Alright princess, let it all out," she says.

That's all it takes for Dakota to hit her climax, releasing hard, a desperate moan tearing from her lips. When she finishes, Rhea slides her fingers out and slowly licks them clean. Then she sets the feather aside and scoops Dakota into her arms. "Did you like that?" she asks.

Dakota nods, a shy blush on her face. "Thank you," she says, smiling at Rhea.

Rhea holds Dakota close. "Anything for you, my princess."

#my writing #wwe #rhea x dakota #rhea ripley #nightmare brutality #dakota kai #king kota kai

[undlewear]

I said i didnt wanna see weird shaven kiwis and coconuts anymore from manscaped and what do they give me…pumpkins….

#I DO NOT WANNA SEE THESE BALL RAZORS NO MOREEEEE

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Lavender Steve at a photoshoot (maybe for his future daddy? Pre-subby bby Steve, just model Steve for now). He’s got on a nice soft lavender set that goes perfectly with his soft pink blush. And they’re having him eat fruit. Strawberries. Kiwi. Pineapple. Mango. Dragonfruit. Anything juicy and sweet that drips down his fingers and face and makes a certain daddy in the background drop his jaw 🍓🥝🍍🥭

Okay okay okay as much as I love love love love the idea lavender Steve being a model before he meets his Daddy I just-

I have to cling to the origin of lavender Steve because he lives so viciously rent free in my mind...

(btw if anyone wants to read the backlog then you can find it here -> 1 2 3 4 5 )

And in origin, this Steve was Captian America. However, at the time of his hedonism (affectionate) with pretty purple things he's somewhere after CA:TWS but before Infinity War and nomad Steve. He's clean shaven, sun-bleached blonde, and soft and subby and pretty. Completely ready for change after the portion of life he's just been dragged, kicking and screaming, through.

Lavender Steve retired after Bucky re-surfaced. In my head, I assumed that part of the appeal for them in this dynamic was that Bucky got to take control again, healing from HYDRA that way, whereas Steve got to finally give over control after spending years as team leader being Captain America. Hyper masculine, admitting no weaknesses, emotional or physical.

Anyway though-

I have to run with this idea though. The mental image of Steve doing a teasing, sensual photoshoot with lingerie and fruit? Too. Good. I'm in love and have heart palpitations.

Jesus.

Lemme just bend this a little.

Steve doing this for Bucky, getting professional photographs done (the photos from a photographer they can both trust, a woman who owes Nat a favor... the why of the owed favor is shaky and shady but so's a lot of things Nat does. Unfortunately and fortunately. Natasha's only request is that she be allowed to see some of the photos... she says she can't believe Steve dresses himself up so easily judging by how much he blushes at the most mundane compliments. She saw one of his outfits drying, hanged gently up in their bathroom once.) just so Bucky can blow the photos up and literally hang them over the hearth in their house. Proud at the artwork that is Steve. His submissive. His.

Also-

Think how fucking sexy those photos would be in general. Even if it weren't a wish granted for Bucky. Like, Bucky, opens the zip-file their very trustworthy and low-key photograoher sends them and...

(Chaotic formatting ahead, beware:)

At first, they're just photos of Steve in another glorious set of lavender lingerie, several different sets because Steve has so many he can just bring with him from home but he also bought more just for this, with a simple background- a white drop back with smoothly painted white boxes/crates to allow for more shapes and poses than if he was only standing or sitting on the floor unassisted.

(Obligatory example lingerie sets: 1 2 3 4 5)

But then the boxes and such are swapped out...

Posing with just the white background, lying in the void of white- the only color his blush and that pretty lingerie.

And maybe in the next burst of photos he's resting on a baby pink and incredibly fluffy rug. Lying back luxuriously, arching his back with his arms over his head to stick his tits out and show off that teeny tiny waist. His dick tucked back so there's nothing actually being revealed. Just a tease. Shot from the side then from overhead, the photographer straddling him to take the shot and making him blush gorgeously. Then he's on his side on the carpet, the difference between his shoulders and lil waist on full display. After, he's on his tummy with his back arched again and his head resting on his forearms looking to the side where the camera is. Sitting on a stool on the carpet too. Legs spread to either side and his hands resting on the seat of the stool, hiding what his little panties aren't. He poses leaning over the stool too, bent at the waist, with his forearms braced on the stool, looking to the side at the camera for a few shots. Also, there's more shots from behind with his ass shown off in full glory as he looks shyly over his shoulder to the lense.

They rotate through several sets of lingerie that way. Getting creative, getting Steve more comfortable for later...

Not that much later though, he's got other props around him. A white satin robe to tease that breathy purple lingerie against a black background instead of white. The contrast calling all attention to him. The photographer brought a sweet stuffed animal to hide the naughtiness of one of his littlest pairs, holding it in front of him, demure as he stares up through heavy lashes. They brought some flowers too maybe... just for some more creativity.

They change back to the white background eventually.

They also get Steve sitting on a bed (the mattress has a cover over it) with white satin/silk sheets. (You know the vibe...)

And with those two things in place (and another of Steve's outfit of course) then comes the fruit.

Bucky's favorites are the last ones with the fruit. It gets wild...

But his favorites of the last ones are any of the ones where Steve is tearing into the fruit with his mouth. That luscious mouth. Lips and teeth getting sticky and shiny and stained. Fruit juice dripping down his hands and chin as he sinks his teeth in...

Bucky isn't sure he's ever seen anything more erotic than Steve's eyes shut in pleasure at tasting the sweet flesh of the fruit after his fast and purposeful dehydration to look his Best for the photos. Enjoying himself in such a beautiful, teasing way.

Looking at the photos makes Bucky lick his own lips as if he might be able to taste some of the juice dripping from Steve's just by staring so hard at the final photos.

Steve just has a 🍑 at one point. He's just taking a bite of a peach and the photo has been taken mid-bite. Then chewing- there's a photo of that too, his jaw clenched and eyes locked with the camera. All of him bared for it. Exposed and put perfectly in the spotlight where he belongs. The camera loves him. He looks unbearably salacious and ripe.

But as more photos are taken, they swapped the fruit. There's more than just peaches.

There's 🍇 that Steve dangles over his own face, plucking them from the vine with his teeth. Elegant and yet dangerous.

There's an up close shot of his mouth full of raspberries, blueberries and blackberries, arranged to look like they're overflowing from his mouth. He's on his back for that shot, his blonde hair swept softly out. Eyes heavily lidded. Ment to allude to the fucked-out look he gets when Daddy paints his cumshot over his parted lips, half on his face, half down his throat. It's more sexual than it has any goddamn right to be. It's just fucking fruit.

Next, there's some of Steve holding 🍓🍓 tight in his fist and dripping the juice down over his open mouth, over his chin and chest, dripping down. And another group of shots of Steve wiping his face with the back of his other hand, peaking up at the camera through his thick lashes, sheepish and indescribably pretty.

Goddamn.

At one point there's also a shot of Steve's ass, his legs folded under him, ankles against the backs of his thighs, but his knees are still spread. He has one hand down to the ground, steadying him, on his fingertips between his legs but he peers back over his shoulder, there's a bite taken out of the 🍑 he's holding just in front of his face. Leaning towards it like he might kiss it- looking fuck drunk. There's also a perfect bite mark from Bucky on his ass... bruised from the last time they had sex. The imprint of his teeth on his ass mirrors the peach.

(Also... they have a joke shot of Steve with a 🍌 too, deep throating it, then using the banana to bulge his cheek. It feels like... low hanging fruit to use such an obvious, phallus fruit. Besides. Steve can hardly keep a straight face while doing it. The same with another joke shot of two 🥝🥝 between his legs like fuzzy balls. Those few frames are not super sexy but actually sweet. The stupid GRIN on his face makes him glow. Full of boyish charm, never growing too old for dick jokes.)

Later, in a new set of panties, no bra this time, Steve arches his back with a 🍍 resting up against his erection, between his legs. There's pineapple rings in a line up his abs, dripping with juice and rolling in a few rivers down his skin. Daddy wants to lick him clean.

Steve with 🍒 happens too. One of the cherries between his teeth and the other still held delicately between his fingers. Eyes heavily staring down the camera. Suggestive as all hell.

Shots of only Steve's hands exist too, ripping into softer fruit, a grapefruit or 🍊 suggestive in placement, as if he's fingering the fruit. Daddy doesn't bottom often, almost not at all, but seeing that... it makes him want to. He wants to direct Steve on just how to tear into him.

The last, last shot it the most unbelievable. It's a reused pose from earlier in the shoot but...

Oh god.

Just thinking about it gets Bucky hot. Even after he's stared at it for too long. Even after he's thought about it while jerking off- Steve gone for the weekend. Maybe it gets him so hot because its taboo. Maybe because it's different. Maybe because it's, it's complete fantasy but-

The last shot is of Steve, without ANY panties and no bra, just miles of pale, flushed skin, with his legs spread as wide as he can get them. Hiding his dick, so it's not just straight porn and retains some air of class, is a cantaloupe that's been sliced in half. The fruit is resting between his legs and his fingers are resting on/in the fruit like he's pleasuring himself... like he's pleasuring himself if he had a pussy. His unoccupied hand is then playing with his own tits- alluding even more to the feminization. It gives Daddy a really confusing but unavoidable surge of arousal. (Lightly inspired by this photo now that I think about it.) His little toy turned his pretty girl with a pretty cunt and touching it himself-? Touching it himself so unashamedly? Fuck. Consider Daddy done for.

#asks #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #lavender steve #fruit #food #uhhhh #have this

[songwings]

(Drake) while i was in the shower i came up with a wandersong AU idea: the delphi band and the rgb trio swap roles in the story!

the delphi band

manny is the bard, and now lives in langtree

ash is the witch (and their mom is alive)

viola is the hero

the rgb trio

kiwi is the recruiter, and now lives in delphi

miriam is the accordian player with a dead grandma saphy (...sorry)

audrey is the violin player but replace her violin with a guitar

if i manage to get a document together of my thoughts on how the storyline would progress like this, or on their dynamics, i’ll be sure to post it here. also @wandersong-brainrot came up with the wonderful name Delphiswap for this AU!

Image descriptions: Three sketches.

Image 1: Manny, a short, mustached stocky man, excitedly jumping up into the air with a rainbow circle around himself. He is wearing round sunglasses, a robin hood hat with a large, elaborate fluffy feather stuck into it, a capelet, a longsleeve top, fingerless gloves, a belt, a pair of pants, and boots.

Image 2: Ash, a witch with lopsided pink hair of medium length, wearing a witch hat, scarf, sweater, a belt, and a pair of pants. They are nervously twirling the air with their wind spells, as their mother stands behind them, encouraging them by saying “Try to have hope, Ash!”. She is dressed in a longsleeve dress and scarf.

Image 3: Viola, a thin woman with half-shaven green hair and pointy ears. She’s dressed with a nicely tied neckscarf, black gloves that extend over her elbows, and a tank top dress that has a long skirt of fabric flowing behind herself. Viola is very confidently holding a flaming sword with her other hand on her hip.

#wandersong #wandersong au #manny wandersong #manny #ash wandersong #ash #viola wandersong #viola #drakeposts #ash gets wind spells! #and viola gets WICKED COOL FLAMING SWORD #manny gets: nothing but love #delphiswap

[elitehiddleston]

Since I’ve been working on the Loki TV show, I’ve had to go clean shaven for the first time in a good few years, and... it feels very weird. I never thought I’d miss having a beard so much, but here we are. I sort of can’t wait for it all to be over so I can grow the beard back. When I first grew it, some fans in China referred to it as “kiwi fruit-like”, which, I suppose, is quite a compliment. Anyway, hello, darlings. If you didn’t already know - which is totally fine - I’m Tom. Or Thomas, as my mother still frequently calls me. Or Tommo, or Tommy, or Tomothy, or Tom-Tom, or… I have a lot of nicknames, and those are just the ones that have evolved from my first name. @elitehqstarters​

#elitehqstart #//enjoy this angel #//replies will be slow bc Unus Annus livestream

[wsstandsfor]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

Shout out to the following who let this guy tagalong with Jakob and Bucky. @cordeliabarton @griim @khakerskayavdova @murder-popsicle​​

Logan Shroyer is a bit young to be the FC for Alek so sometimes I’ll still use Cillian Murphy

NAME. Aleksander Golubev NICKNAME(S). Alek TITLE(S). N/A AGE. 30s SPECIES. Human SEX. Male ALIGNMENT. Neutral Good INTERESTS. Water, boats, mountains, rock-climbing, law. PROFESSION. Hander. Attorney. BODY TYPE. Runner/swimmer body, going soft around the middle. Later, he’s probably got a handful of medical problems from being in a gulag.​ EYES. Blue. Far-sighted. Has reading glasses. Cold. HAIR. Blond, styled in a slicked back classic taper. Curls when long. Later, it’s prematurely gray.  SKIN. Pale. Some freckles. Will burn in the sun. A few birthmark/freckles/moles. American!Alec has a gay pink triangle tattoo on his left pec.  FACE. Heart shape. Some freckles. Clean shaven. Prefers to keep his cards close to his chest and not emote. HEIGHT. 5′8 [Not sure why Jakob and Alek are the same height but okay] VOICE: Overly formal. Enunciates. Crisp. Not a lot of tone (Vulcan-y). If he’s stressed or mad, he’ll tend to drop contractions.  SIGNIFICANT OTHER? “Hmm.” Closeted gay man working in a Soviet Throwback. That’s a no. Had a few flings. A steady boyfriend. Then, an arranged married fiancé. Then the Red Room recruited him. COMPANIONS. His brother, assortment of coworkers and higher ups. ANTAGONISTS. Assortment of coworkers and higher ups. COLORS. Navy, cream, burgundy.  FRUITS. Kiwi. Apples. Oranges. DRINKS. Tea, coffee, water. ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES. Vodka, wine, scotch, whiskey. SMOKES? Occasionally DRUGS? Occasionally, in the past. In the ‘rich kids have access to a higher class of product.’ Plus attorneys have a higher percentage rate of addiction. He mostly stays away from it since his brother is an addict. DRIVERS LICENSE? Yes.

FUN FACTS.

Hates being messy. Such as, having his hands dirty, food touching, jeans.

To focus, he’ll tap each finger to his thumb.

Workaholic. Forgets to eat, sleep.

Can sing; would rather not. 

Quiet observer type. Some friends who he hasn’t seen in years.

If you get a tone or an expression out of him, something big’s happening.

He fucking tries. The deck is stacked against him. Bad family, corrupt job. He’s profoundly unhappy most of his life. 

Bogdan is his half brother. Same father, different mothers. Alek was born when his father was 40.

While he says his brother was practically another parent, the truth is more complicated. Most of the time, Alek is his brother’s keeper. 

He accepts that he’s his father’s son. Has the capacity to do terrible things. I mean, look at his work. Hell, he even looks like his father (FC is Jeff Bridges; Alek could be a young Jeff Bridges).

Father just has all the Jeff Bridges charm.

#alek golubev #//fun fact! i can't find an fc for alec's adult self XD

[skinks]

mr wentworth yes i help my son with his goofy voices yes i am a dilf tozier has the salt n pepper hair of god (oscar isaac) and the sexy librarian glasses to match

god I had never even considered that... the range of this...

Went starts going gray at 32 when Richie is 5 and it’s all the church women’s group can talk about... indirectly, of course. Oh, but he’s so young. Oh, he’ll be balding next. Oh I don’t know, doesn’t he look... distinguished? Mrs Nash from just down their street sees him doing rock-paper-scissors with his son Richard in the grocery store to determine whether or not Richard is allowed ice cream, and Dr Tozier is laughing because he’s winning, and he’s winning because Richard doesn’t know his father can see his little hidden hand reflected in the freezer cabinet, tucked behind his back. Richard’s laughing too, even though he’s losing, and bleats, “Again! Dad again,” eyes shining big as planets with coke-bottle rings.

“Don’t you know what best two out of three means? That was four draws ago.”

“No! No, I’ll win!” The boy shakes his head so hard his whole body rocks from side to side, then clings up at Dr Tozier’s middle with sticky hands. His very... trim middle. Helen’s own Rory, God love him, he enjoys a sudsy six-pack too much these days to keep a middle like that. “Two outta three! Three ice creams please Dad please please Dad please watch I can count to a hundred—”

“Well, we’re not playing hide-and-go-seek right now, Rich. And I beat you, didnt I?”

“Yeah!”

“Right. So why don’t you go get Dad six apples instead, alright? If you can do a hundred, six’ll be pie.” Dr Tozier claps his big hands gentle to the boy’s round cheeks, until they goldfish.

“Easy as,” they chant together. Helen props herself up with the handles of her own cart, the can of little hotdogs going slack in her hand.

“Six apples, then come right back. You got that, doc? You pick the color.”

Richard nods like he’s trying to detach his own head. Dr Tozier puts one hand just briefly on Richard’s dark mophead hair, like he’s giving the boy a blessing for his apple adventure. His hand is really quite broad, thinks Helen, popped out square at the thumb-joint. Matches that jawline of his, something whispers darkly in her stomach. Then the boy’s off, tearing down the aisle on a squeaking chariot of scuffed-gray sneakers and babbling what sounds like a Bugs Bunny impression, repeated on a loop. What’s up doc what’s up doc what’s up doc, fading around the corner to the fruit. Peculiar. Helen once saw the Tozier boy eat a worm at the park while pushing her youngest on the swings, after another solemn-eyed little boy with a faceful of freckles had carefully presented it to him in the sand box. Most peculiar.

Dr Tozier watches him go, then turns back to the freezer cabinet, and sticks two cartons of ice cream into his shopping cart—the very sugary kind. And the man is a dentist!

Helen puts her hand on her chest to calm the trilling schoolgirl rush of her heart, and then stops herself at the sight of her own wedding ring. Get a hold of yourself, Mrs Nash! For Pete’s sake! She trundles her cart over for some chit-chat. Afternoon, Doctor, she says, lovely weather. A perfect neighbourly opener. It is lovely; bright and warm and clear and golden, like honey outside. She’s quietly smug about her new blowout. Dr Tozier is wearing a crisp shirt with buttons like neat soldiers and short sleeves, exposing lean forearms. Yes, a lovely day. Helen swallows.

“Yes, good for the lawn,” replies Dr Tozier.

“We missed Margaret at book club this week,” Helen hedges.

“Oh, that’s right,” says Dr Tozier, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes when he grins are even more distracting without the facemask he’s usually wearing, when Helen drops in for her check-ups. He pushes his spectacles up the strong slope of his nose. They’re wiry like him, steely gray to match his eyes. “She meant for me to tell you, or Diana. Maggie’s been in Skowhegan for the week at her mother’s. My mother-in-law is a woman of... nervous disposition, shall we say. Maggie didn’t think she’d cope with two Tozier men at once, now that Richie’s started losing his teeth.”

“Ohhh,” Helen coos. That must explain the ice cream. She puts her hand near to Dr Tozier’s arm, then away, then near, then away again for good. A neighbourly distance. Margaret is a lovely, lucky woman, even if she does wear flared pants. Hippie to yuppie pipeline’s alive ‘n’ flowin’, Rory always grunts whenever the Toziers come up in conversation. Helen imagines a picket fence between their bodies, and calms. “My Wendy was the same, I’m sure you remember.”

“Yes,” says Dr Tozier mildly. “You brought her in six times as I recall it, Mrs Nash.”

Mrs Nash. Honestly, like she’s his schoolteacher. It’s a little rude. Admittedly he does look quite, quite young with his faintly curling weekend-hair, if not for the new gray blazing a trail back from his temples like virgin snow. Helen is undeterred, even if something quivers inside at the thought of the word virgin in conversation with Dr Tozier. Music tinkles tinny through the ceiling speakers, and it puts Helen in mind of potted plants, or elevators. This is a lovely chat. “Well, you hate to see them suffer, don’t you? I’m sure Richard’s the same, lots of tears—”

“No, actually, Richie keeps on finding things to hit himself in the face with and knock out more teeth,” Dr Tozier interjects. He raises his eyebrows and speaks hushed, as if this is a secret for Helen’s ears alone. The thought makes her dizzy. “It’s my fault, I made the mistake of giving him a quarter for the first one. That’s why he’s not invited to Grandma’s. Lot of antiques.”

“Oh,” says Helen, taken aback. She has three girls; little boy behavior is as yet mystifying. “Well.”

“I’m joking, Helen,” Dr Tozier says cheerfully.

“Oh. I—I see. What a relief.”

He opens a freezer chest to examine a bag of frozen peas. “Maggie’s mom is deaf as white cat, she’d never notice.”

Helen tries to wipe her clammy hands on her dress without being obvious. Her face is hot, but she hopes her cardigan conceals the effect that the chill of the freezer aisle is having under her bra. She also hopes that it doesn’t.

He really does have such a slender, pleasant face, always with an air of casual, amused expectancy hanging around him. Haloing him, like that bright yellow light above the chair in his practice, blocked out when he leans over and slips his fingers inside. Helen supposes that’s what graduating medical school must do to a man, what marrying and fathering young and having one’s own practice by the end of such a turbulent decade as the nineteen-seventies must elicit. The ability to put people at ease, to—to say open wide and know the people of Derry trust him enough to comply. To open themselves. Helen’s breathing catches. Dr Tozier idly checks his sensible watch, still smiling the unhurried smile of a man who very rarely does his own grocery shopping anymore. Everyone knows you pick up the ice-cream last.

Helen gathers herself. This is the longest conversation she has entertained with Dr Tozier without children or the squeaking of latex gloves between them, and she’s gripped by the terribly silly need to be interesting. “Speaking of white cats, I couldn’t help noticing your hair, Wentworth—”

“DADDY!”

Dr Tozier blanches, whipping around to scan the end of the aisle. He is a long line of tense instinct tuned to thrum into action at one specific frequency, knuckles white on the cart handle. His cart bumps into Helen’s. It is thrilling.

“Fuck,” Dr Tozier mutters, and that’s thrilling too, he swore, oh, the boy’s probably fine Wentworth, don’t go, why don’t we just stay right here with the frozen goods and—

Then Richard comes barrelling back down the aisle like a colt on new legs covered in old Band-aids, with his arms full. The fluorescent strip-lights gleam white on Dr Tozier’s broad shoulders and he sags, like snow dropping from a branch, with relief.

“Hey, lunkhead,” he says, sounding shaky, but Richard is only five and would never know it. He’s babbling again. Seems to Helen like the boy’s as a hydrant overflowing on a hot day; entertaining and welcomed at first, until it becomes a nuisance when you begin to understand it won’t shut off, and have to call the firemen.

“Nyyeeeeeah,” Richard greets his father, tousled and bug-eyed with clear adoration, breathing hard from his Supermarket Sweep. Then he makes the carrot-noise. Looks like Bugs, Helen thinks of the boy’s new adult front teeth, the beaverish jut of them exacerbated by his missing canines on either side. Then she feels abruptly un-neighbourlike for being jealous of a child for his father’s attention, good grief.

Dr Tozier regards his son for a long moment. Then says, “What’s up, doc?” in a spot-on Mel Blanc whine. Richard giggles so hard his too-big glasses start slipping. “How many apples is that?”

“Gotta apples and I was gonna put ‘em in a bag but I forgot and Dad, Daddy look, s’a dinosaur on the box for my dinner when Mommy’s at Grandma’s—”

Dr Tozier sighs, putting one hand on his hip and dragging the other over his clean-shaven mouth, watching Richard drop his armfuls everywhere, scattering the linoleum. He has two apples, four boxes of brightly colored cereal, a handful of pencils topped with cartoon-character erasers, and a kiwi fruit. For a moment, Helen sees the shining enamel of Dr Tozier’s everything-will-work-out-with-another-cup-of-coffee amusement slip, wear away to worry underneath.

“Rich,” he says, interrupting Richard’s blabbermouth, firm and patient. Helen’s thighs burn suddenly under her skirts at the tone of his voice, and she looks down, rearranging her own groceries. She should leave them to get on. She could offer to help. Margaret’s out of town, poor things, they probably haven’t eaten a cooked meal all week!

“Richie,” Dr Tozier says again. “Listen and pay attention when Mom or me ask you to do something, remember? How many apples did I ask you to get?”

Richard has to crane his neck to meet his father’s eyes. Dr Tozier is one of the tallest fathers in the Derry Elementary catchment zone, Helen has checked. “Six!”

“And how many’ve you got, Elmer Fudd?”

“Um.” Richard’s pale little face creases in thought, then brightens. When he speaks again his voice is strange, accented. “Twooo.”

“Some apple hunter you are, huh.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“That’s fine.” Dr Tozier stoops to gather Richard’s detritus, and Helen knows she has something to contribute, watching the boy stick one of the pencils up his nose.

“You know, apples are very good for you,” she says. Richard turns to her, slack-jawed, as if seeing her for the first time. “You should listen to your Daddy, Richard, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

Richard stares for another few seconds. Then he bites down on his boogery pencil so that it threads through the gaps in his teeth, and hollers, “MY FRIEND BILL SAID THAT’S A PILE OF BULLSHIT.”

“No shouting indoors, Rich,” says Dr Tozier, still gathering. Helen rocks a step backwards, clinging to her cart like a life-preserver.

“Bill and my’s friend Eddie eats a thousand apples and sees the doctor all the time though Dad, and Miss Spiegel said if we eat apples we don’t have to see the doctors but Eddie eats them and—Bill said—”

“Pile of bullshit, yeah, I liked it. Bill’s an eloquent guy,” says Dr Tozier. This is the second time Helen has ever heard him curse in as many minutes. It comes out easy and amused as everything else does in his pleasant tenor. His legs and his jaw are so lean and angular that Helen can see the suggestion, the shadow of the shape of his perfect, swearing teeth through his cheek as he grins helplessly at his son, the fruit of his loins and someone else’s loins who isn’t Helen, and all of a sudden she feels a slick pulse of wet heat, up between her thighs.

She squeaks. Flutters her hand to her face without knowing why, perhaps to catch the noise before Dr Tozier notices, just another quivering Derry leaf tossed along by his breezy manner. He looks up anyway, with a frown.

“Everything alright, Helen?”

“Just—fine, yes,” she manages. Dr Tozier is still down on one knee, kindly face level with her skirts. She can see right down under his starched collar from this angle, a slivering glimpse of smooth, dark hair. No undershirt. Helen has lain naked against Rory’s nakedness before without feeling this alive, in every part of her body. She feels like a heart, beating.

“Oh, hang on.” Dr Tozier says, eyes widening, and turns Richard by the shoulders to face her. One pencil for each nostril, now. “Apologize to Mrs Nash for cussing, Richie.”

“Sorry!” Richard shouts, sounding less like he’s apologizing and more like he’s just deemed Helen it during a game of tag.

Helen is still floating in a dazed state of mild panic. Like a prey-mouse, bewitched into slack compliance by her own body’s snaking desires. “That’s alright, dear.”

F-word, Dr Tozier had said. Maybe cussing could be quite neighbourly when applied in the right context, thinks Helen.

“You mentioned my hair, earlier,” says Dr Tozier, straightening back up with a knowing sort of arch to his eyebrow as he smiles genially at Helen. He tilts his head down at Richard. “There’s the reason. Every last one, sprinkled onto my head at the tender age of thirty-two by the great salt-and-pepper shaker of fatherhood. Especially this week, with Maggie on sabbatical. Had to bring you to work with me, didn’t I, buckaroo?”

Richard bites and swings and tugs on his father’s long arm, a tearaway kitten with a much obliging scratching post. Dr Tozier hardly seems to notice. “Yeah! Daddy’s got fishes at work!”

Dr Tozier grimaces slightly at Helen, but also as if he’s seeing right through her to some past unnamable horror. “I liked those fish. Calmed down the nervy patients.” He sighs again.

Helen wonders briefly whether or not the residents of Dr Tozier’s waiting-room fish tank suffered the same fate as that worm in the park, and decides she’d rather not know.

“Well, you needn’t worry about it,” she says, gamely. She watches her hand reach towards Dr Tozier’s silver-black brindle, then snatches it back from his bland expression to brush the tips of her own feathered-out hair. “The gray, I mean.”

Dr Tozier blinks.

“It’s very—that is to say, you look, it makes you look, I mean, I think it’s—”

Dr Tozier’s left eyebrow joins his right, raised up high.

A tidy little jet of hysteria shoots up from Helen’s knotting stomach to spin like a top in her chest. She hears herself stutter out the word, “Dashing,” and immediately wishes to flee the store, leaving her cart abandoned like so much collateral damage.

But Dr Tozier only barks a laugh, a short, smooth hah like everything else he says. Entirely unperturbed. “Well, thank you.”

Too unperturbed. Helen is struck by a sudden bolt of terror, at the thought of the things Dr Tozier must surely hear every day, when people are lulled by the hypnotically intimate environment of a dentist’s chair and a touch of the laughing gas. Oh, this is terrible. Her face is on fire.

“But they—they make products for men now,” she says, and why, oh why can’t she stop talking? “Hair dyes, I mean, if it really does bother you? I’ve seen them in Keene’s.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” says Dr Tozier, looking down at Richard then with a soft edge, at his bouncing noise and scabbed knees and gently curling hair like a black spaniel’s. Like his father’s. “I find I’m rather grateful for it, truth be told.”

“Plus,” he continues, as if Helen wasn’t already melting harder than the Tozier’s ice-cream, as if Johnny Kitchener the shop-boy isn’t going to have to come along with a mop and bucket to clean up on aisle seven, “Maggie’d kill me if I got rid of it.”

Then Dr Tozier winks.

Oh Lord, oh Lord, Helen’s whole ribcage is so tight she can’t squeeze out a reply, because who could blame dear, pretty, annoyingly friendly, lucky, lucky, lucky Margaret for that when Dr Wentworth Tozier DMD is so—

So f—

So fffffff—

So fiddlesticksing handsome!

“Well, we’d best not keep you, Helen. This one is in dire need of a bath before his mother sees him, and hands me a divorce on the spot,” Dr Tozier says, when another few moments have passed and all Helen can do is try to desperately smooth the creases from her breathing. He’s humming mild interest at something Richard is saying, knelt back down to the linoleum to tie the boy’s loose-worm laces presumably before he gives himself any more skinned knees, and they’re leaving. Dr Tozier is leaving, and Helen hasn’t done anything but act like a ninny this entire time. She doesn’t want him to think her a ninny, a simpleton. She wants him to leave this bright, liminal church of bold colors and jazzy waiting-room music and return to his lemon-yellow two-storey house thinking my, what a lovely chat I had with Helen Nash.

She wants to linger, as he lingers. Like an amiable spirit hanging over the women’s group at church, waiting to be summoned at a moment’s eager notice. I bumped into Dr Tozier at Palmer’s on Saturday, she’ll say to the other jealous ladies, with triumph, and we had such a nice talk. He called me Helen.

“And when—when does Margaret get home?” she blurts. A very secret part of Helen wants Dr Tozier to leave this conversation with Helen and his wife both, entwined by association in his mind. She tries very hard not to think about the Toziers divorcing, because that is un-neighbourly, and feels least neighbourly of all when a dopey, dreamy look crosses Dr Tozier’s face like a brief sunbeam at her question.

“Ah. Tonight. Not too late, hopefully.” He jerks one of his knuckley thumbs at his shopping cart, licking the other to wipe something unidentifiable from Richard’s grubby face. “That’s why we’re here, stocking up for her miraculous return. Like a couple of noble emperor penguins in Antarctica, eh Rich?”

“Penguins like from Batman! Ka-pow.”

Helen takes a peek into their cart, curiosity getting the better of her now that permission is granted. Dr Tozier might not know it, but looking into another person’s cart is bad grocery etiquette, especially in a town like Derry, where gossip grows like a fungus in every sweaty and close little huddle of people. Not that Helen would know about that. Anyway, there isn’t much to gossip about besides the unfortunately liquefied ice-cream, the severe lack of crunchy vegetables characteristic of a young man in 1981 trying to provide for a tooth-shedding son, and—

A little cardboard box. Tossed unashamedly between the Wonderbread and a magazine about sports. Prophylactics. Rubbers.

36-pack. XL

Helen knows her jaw is hanging open and strains to close it, the back of her neck and her shoulders feeling hot and tight and shuddery. She kneads a fist into her skirts. Crosses her legs at the ankles as demurely as she knows how, because the very last thing she needs is for frank, sensible Dr Tozier to see right through her with that easy doctor-patient-confidentiality smile, and know she’s soaking through her underwear at the sight of his Saturday grocery run, and all it implies.

Dr Tozier is laughing, nudging Richard in the direction of the register, or perhaps the apples. “Ka-pow is right. I’ll make sure to use that on Mom, thanks. Say hello to Rory for us, Helen. Have a nice day,” he says from over his shoulder, startling her. Holds up one long hand in a wave with a grin, and is gone, shadowing the boy’s haphazard attempts to push the cart despite not being able to see where he’s going.

Helen stands amongst the humming freezers, trembling. “You too,” she rasps, but Dr Tozier has rounded the corner, and is evidently going to have a nice day and a much nicer night, regardless of whether Helen wishes it for him or not.

All the bright little branded characters are watching her from their shelves, a silent jury. Helen Nash opens a freezer cabinet with a weak arm, and stands there for a while, staring at a leg of ham and thinking cooling, neighbourly thoughts.

#long post #idk how to do readmores on mobile soz not soz #wentworth tozier #richie tozier #poor sexually unsatisfied helen nash #sometimes you just have to write the DILF went tozier fic you want to see in the world #stephen king: he was a pleasant looking man with a rather thin face #me cracking my knuckles: a l r i g h t #but what if... big dick richie was hereditary... what then 😳🤔👀🤔👀😳😳👀 #ficlet

[puroresu-musings]

NJPW G1 CLIMAX 30 Day 1 Review (Sept 19th, 2020, Osaka EDION Arena)

Yota Tsuji vs. Yuya Uemura  ***

A BLOCK

Will Ospreay vs. Yujiro Takahashi  ***1/4

Jeff Cobb vs. Taichi  ***1/4

Tomohiro Ishii vs. Minoru Suzuki  ****1/2

Shingo Takagi vs. Jay White  ****

Kazuchika Okada vs. Kota Ibushi  ****1/4

photos.

The 30th annual G1 Climax kicked off in fine fashion with a great show from the always lively Osaka EDION Arena. Even when it’s 2/3rds full thanks to this pandemic. The night started with a battle of Young Lions, as Yuya Uemura submitted a freshly clean-shaven Yota Tsuji with a high angle crab after 6:57 of good, solid combat. 

The G1 began with a returning Will Ospreay battling the odd-man-out in the Block (and tournament), Yujiro. This was was a brief (7:44), all-action outing, that was a showcase for the Ariel Assassin, if nothing else. After Yujiro scored a near fall with Miami Shine, he tried Pimp Juice, but Ospreay flipped out, hit Hidden Blade, then Storm Breaker to take the two points. The fast pace and short runtime really enhanced this, and if all of Yujiro’s G1 matches are this sort of time, that’s fine with me. Ospreay cut one of his excruciating promos in the post match. Taichi and Jeff Cobb, a guy who hasn’t been in New Japan in forever, squared off next. This only went 12:47, but the first two thirds felt double that, as Taichi heeled it up in interminable fashion (hitting Cobb’s knee with the hammer from the gong, walking around doing nothing for a while), but picked up into a really good match once that was out of the way. Once those trousers come off, Taichi matches get good, so keep them off I say. Cobb catches a superkick attempt and hits a Death Valley Bomb, and follows up with a standing moonsault for 2. Taichi escaped a Spin Cycle attempt, and goes to the Kawada well, hitting a Dangerous High Kick and Dangerous Backdrop, but Cobb counters a Black Mephisto into the rolling gutwrenches. Taichi escaped a Tour Of The Islands attempt, hit another gamengiri, a Superkick, then successfully hits Black Mephisto to take the win.

After a brief intermission for cleaning, Ishii and Suzuki went to war in a hard-hitting bout, which was probably the best match on the show. They clobbered each other with super stiff forearms, slaps and headbutts in glorious fashion for exactly 13 minutes. After stunning Ishii, Suzuki tries the Gotch, but The Stone Pitbull lifts him up and counters into a dangerous looking reverse piledriver. An exchange of Lariats and strikes finally sees Suzuki floor Ishii with a huge elbow, then get a near fall with a sliding front kick. Ishii hits a big headbutt, then tries for the Vertical Drop Brainbuster, but Suzuki escapes and quickly hits the Gotch Style Piledriver to take the two points. This was tremendous and really, these hard-hitting wars have been the highlight of this whole pandemic era. While most other matches have failed to reach the heights they would ordinarily have pre-COVID, these stiff, strike based matches have almost always delivered, just on their intensity alone. Jay White made his first New Japan appearance in 6 months against Shingo Takagi next. This was an excellent match that, despite it devolving into (shock) a Jay White match, had the crowd going absolutely crazy in a manner we’ve rarely seen in this environment. They were stomping their feet on near falls like it was 1985, and were completely behind Shingo. After a prerequisite ref bump, Gedo hit the ring with brass knucks, but way laid out with a super casual back elbow from Takagi. Jay ducks a Pumping Bomber, then hits the Sleeper Suplex and Kiwi Krusher for a near fall. Shingo escapes a Blade Runner attempt and hoists White up into Last Of The Dragon, but Jay’s feet send Red Shoes down again. Shingo hits LOTD, but no ref! As Shingo goes to investigate just what the hell is going on, Switchblade hits a low blow, a Regalplex and Blade Runner to take the win at 19:28.

The main event between Okada and Ibushi was something of a disappointment. It was a great match, no doubt, but just missed something these two usually have together, and it couldn’t touch either the WK14 match, or last years G1 outing, and was ultimately the weakest match these guys have had together since their 2013 match in DDT. To be fair, neither guy has looked like their usual selves since coming back from the lockdown, so I’ve no idea whats happening here. This started off a bit ropey, but really picked up when Ibushi hit a massive Asai Moonsault to the floor. Okada tried a top rope Tombstone, but Ibushi turns it into a (rather messy) springboard Frankensteiner. Kota tries the Bastard Driver, but Okada reverses into a short Tombstone for the double down. They exchange forearms from the knees which really had the crowd going, then Okada kept trying with this modified Cobra Clutch. I admire his dedication to getting this thing over, but its just not happening. Okada hits a big spinning Tombstone... then locks the Clutch on again. Ibushi makes the ropes. The Golden Star hits a jumping knee, them tries Kamigoye, but Okada dropkicks his way free. Rainmaker seemingly tries a dropkick version of Kamigoye, but Ibushi catches him into a big Liger Bomb, another jumping knee, and Kamigoye to take the “upset” win at 21:35. I say upset, but New Japan love their 50/50 booking as much as the next promotion, so with Ibushi losing at the Dome, I could see him getting his win back here. Which he did. All in all, a really great show that was action packed, and at around 2 hours sans intermission, it was a breeze to sit through. This G1, whilst unlikely to hit the highs of the last few years, is on track to being quite the tournament.

NDT

#njpw #g1 climax 30 #review #g130 #kazuchika okada #kota ibushi #jay white #shingo takagi #tomohiro ishii #minoru suzuki #taichi #jeff cobb #will ospreay #yujiro takahashi #new japan pro wrestling #puroresu #wrestling review

[cranehusbands]

null and voided

Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Wraith | Renee Blasey; voidwalker timeline; hurt/comfort; voidwalker/whitelisted; apex rarepair week; 1563 words

a/n: and here’s where i show you just how unhinged i am.

SO. FOR CONTEXT. me and a friend (it’s mr tumblr user the-goolings, nate) have an au/plotline for the voidwalker timeline seen in wraith’s original story short, with voidwalker being... voidwalker, and her guy in the chair helping her out is crypto, who is originally in his hired gun skin variant before being captured by the syndicate and like... half-cyborged? before he escaped to wait for her while she went about with her revenge. it’s fucked! but anyways they make me feel and they’re in LOVE. please ask me more about this au if you’re so inclined i have. a lot

a very late day 6 for @apex-rarepairweek, hurt/comfort! 

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: Renee pushed away some of the schematics for the parts in his chest cavity, folding her arms across the dining table and resting her head on top of him, turning to keep an eye on him as he was sleeping… no, as he was shut off. He was hardly human, he’d said so himself, he didn’t sleep. ...But that wasn’t right, was it. He still lived, and felt, just as she did, and although he didn’t breathe and eat he still existed by her side like he always did, and that was as human as it got, right? [...] “God, Tae, how did this happen?” 

The only sounds echoing through the apartment were the loud contact of metal on metal, small curses and larger ones, and electricity crackling between two loose wires with a frustrated grumble. Old Chinese food boxes laid strewn around the apartment, old clothes discarded without a second thought, a blanket thrown over the couch like a makeshift bed, and the dining table taken over with tools and schematics, first person pronouns littering the notes of parts and functions. The radio at one end of the table quietly played the news, news of wars and violence that was just white noise against the gentle scraping of metal.

 Renee cursed to herself again, slamming the screwdriver back down on the table as she sat up and rolled her shoulder, scowling a little. She was learning this as she was going along, which was hard when the handwriting on your only guide was illegible most of the time. Running a hand down her face, her fingers parted for a moment, and she dared to steal a glance down at the body resting on the sofa that she’d dragged into the dining room, at the way the metal reflected the synthetic lights, how peaceful he looked, like a… fucked up, cyborg sleeping beauty, eyes closed and chest wide open, exposing the wires and components that kept him alive. How her friend, her partner, her lover, Taejoon Park, was sitting there, half human and half machine, and how she was repairing him for the third time that week.

 Getting back to their timeline had been a mess. She’d done what they’d been fighting for all this time, saving herself from another dimension in her place, barely surviving by the skin of her teeth. Sometimes she could still feel the blood of the man who had ruined her life splashing onto her face, remembering the feeling of his skull as it marbled in her grip with every bash against the wall, and she couldn’t tell if that felt good or not. But what didn’t feel good was stumbling back into their own quiet, secluded apartment, practically tripping through a portal, delirious from blood loss, leaning a shoulder up against the wall as she shook off the heavy gear and dragged her blood along the paint, and seeing a man who seemed so familiar but still so strange rushing to meet her, staring at her as if he was an illusion. She wondered if that was just what he was - he looked like Taejoon, looked at her like he used to, lips parting in the same way as he brought a hand up to her face to hold her, but his touch was cold, metallic and unwelcoming, but all the same, it was him, surely?

 The way his nightmares haunted him, and the way he gripped for her in his sleep as if she would leave him, all but confirmed it.

 It was the Syndicate, he’d said. Got to him when he was gone. Tortured him, barely kept him alive, involuntarily entered him into a simulacrum program, where he escaped with the last of his humanity and had been living in isolation for months before she’d gotten home. He didn’t sleep, or eat - he didn’t need to, not anymore. He just listened to the sounds of his own parts functioning, and wondered what it would be like to hear them stop. He’d taken down all the mirrors, covered the windows and any other reflections, making sure that he didn’t have to see himself, and what he was forced to become. Tried to find Mila by himself, he’d said, but he kept flipping between hopelessness and sheer mania, trashing the apartment before fixing it again to trash it again. All while she was dimensions away, totally unaware that the man who helped her get this far was barely hanging on, waiting for her to come home.

 It wasn’t her fault. Not by any means, and Taejoon had told her as much. But now that what she’d made her life’s purpose was just another page in the book of her personal history, it was all she could think about. Renee pushed away some of the schematics for the parts in his chest cavity, folding her arms across the dining table and resting her head on top of him, turning to keep an eye on him as he was sleeping… no, as he was shut off. He was hardly human, he’d said so himself, he didn’t sleep. ...But that wasn’t right, was it. He still lived, and felt, just as she did, and although he didn’t breathe and eat he still existed by her side like he always did, and that was as human as it got, right? She let out a sigh, shaking as she did so, biting her lip as her eyes started to well with tears, continuing to watch him and remembering the times he’d fall asleep, just like this, at his desk, working for hours for her sake and his own, as she’d wrap a blanket over his shoulder and ruffle his hair with a gentle kiss to the temple-

“God, Tae, how did this happen?” She whispered to herself, breaking down and turning her head away to sob against her forearm, unable to stop herself, her whole body shaking with the force of it, bottled up day in and day out of repairs. Had she let him down? What had they become? Zombies, searching for truth and revenge, the syndicate one step in front with a knife behind their back. She’d gotten revenge in one dimension, but what about the countless others she saw in her sleep, the voices that followed her everywhere and the void that beckoned for soulless company-

 She held in a breath at the familiar whining sound of servo’s releasing locked up air, fans kicking in as a single robotic eye looked around, making noise with every movement. Renee rubbed her eyes against her arm before she sat up, forcing a light smirk. “Hey. I’m not finished, why’d you-”

“Forced startup. Syndicate slave code.” Even now, it was hard to get used to the slight crackle in his voice as he spoke, as he moved his hand to point to the back of his neck.

“We gotta get that fixed.”

“...Have you been crying?”

She froze. “I- no, it’s nothing-”

“Renee…”

“Don’t ‘Renee’ me, Tae.” She almost snapped, not wanting the pity, before she felt herself deflate. “I said it’s nothing, OK?”

She listened to the way his cybernetic eye moved to look her up and down, moving his hands to support himself as he slowly sat up. “Wait, no, I’m not-”

“Quiet.”

“What- no, let me finish my work first.”

He closed up his ribcage with a light click, looking up to her as she rolled her eyes. “There. No more work.”

“That’s only going to wreck itself later, and you’re going to complain, you know that, right?”

“I don’t matter right now. All that matters is you.”

Though she slightly softened, Renee opened her mouth to speak again, only cutting herself off as he put a hand against her cheek - it was cold, but still so warm, and full of love, as he ran a hand across her cheek.

Taejoon moved his hand up to across her freshly shaven (another bad episode with the void, instinctive) head - the metal was cold against her skin, enough to make her flinch a little, but she stayed, almost leaning into it like a cat would, as he gave her a tired smile, moving his hand to hold her face, fingers still stroking what little hair was above her ears. “Kiwi…”

Renee paused, opening her eyes and cocking an eyebrow as she held onto his wrist. “Did… you just call me a kiwi?”

“Mhm… you’re soft and fuzzy.”

She looked at him, chuckling and scoffing a little, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you. Remind me never to cry about you again.”

“Noted. I would never want you to, regardless.”

“But you know I will. We’re just made that way.”

Taejoon hummed, looking down, almost defeated. 

She sighed and pressed her forehead against his, touching what little of his skin was left, listening to the way his eyes closed and gears kicked into overdrive at the soft physical contact, chuckling to herself. ���I love you, Tae.”

“Yeah… yeah. I love you too.”.

 “We’re gonna be OK, I promise.” Her voice was quieter now, only for her entire world, as she opened her eyes to look at him, almost blinded by his as he looked back at her.

“As long as we’re together, I don’t think we’ll ever be OK.” Despite himself, Taejoon laughed, her voice gaining that familiar crackle to it as he moved his hand down from her head to her shoulder. “But I suppose… that’s just fine with me.”

Renee moved herself back a little to go in again, moving in to plant a kiss against his lips, slow and deliberate. He was cold to the touch but warm with the love and care for her he felt with every fiber of his being, both what little of him remained and everything that had been replaced, as he returned the kiss, the bells and whistles all going off in harmony as she chuckled into the kiss they shared, feeling a gentle slap against her arm.

#apex legends #apex rarepair week #cryptwraith #crypto #wraith #apex legends tag #dahl.doc

[dvrkprinces]

&&. ( dimitri valentina ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( he ) is a ( 27 ) year old ( alpha werewolf ) who resembles ( sean o’pry ). ( he ) has been said to be ( intelligent & resilient ) but also quite ( proud & deceitful ). with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, he has chosen to align with ( no one / the russian bratva ). ( he ) is currently serving as��( the russian bratva mafia prince ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole.

— ❝ do you know where the wicked go after death?❞

( hi there, kiwi here! this is the official intro for  the pensive, brooding, and darkly sarcastic russian mafia prince, dimitri valentina. i’m excited to see how he fits in with everyone else’s characters and would love to establish connections with him! please let me know if you’d like to plot; i’m available through both the group’s discord and tumblr ims. ♡ )

name: dimitri nikolai valentina

birthplace: saint petersburg, russia

birthday: december 14th | sagittarius

scent: white ginger, basil flower, bergamot, cedar, violet leaves, haiti vetiver, coconut, and hibiscus + ( signature cologne: l’homme - yves saint laurent )

appearance: standing 6′3″ with a chiseled jawline, thick, swept-back black hair, steely eyes, and a fit frame, dimitri valentina is like something directly out of a stoic and classical portrait. dimitri’s beauty is dark and sinister, and that coupled with his brooding personality can make him come across as a deeply sinister and intimidating young man. he prefers to stay clean-shaven and well-groomed.

growing up wealthy, as the son of a mafia family and as a privileged alpha werewolf, dimitri has known luxury and wealth for the entirety of his life. as such, he dresses in the finest clothes, has a fondness for cloaks, pea coats, and gloves, and even his sweaters are designer cashmere. he prefers high end fragrances and watches and loves shades of deep emerald and cranberry paired with black or dark grey pants or accents.

personality: intelligent, resilient, proud, deceitful, haughty, pretentious, cunning, ambitious, stubborn.

biography: dimitri valentina is the middle child of the valentina children, and as such, he has always felt particularly stuck. doomed to fall in the shadows of his strong, intelligent, and ambitious elder brother, viktor, and under the bright-eyed popularity and adoration of his baby sister, tatiana, dimitri felt he was always particularly underwhelming compared to his two siblings. as an adult, dimitri often feels that he has to overcompensate to prove he is not only worthy of his bloodline, but that he is as important as either of his siblings. he was born in saint petersburg, the glittering jewel of russia, to a loving and protective family. the valentinas were mafia royalty, and as such, dimitri was born into a lap of opulence and luxury.

dimitri grew up loved, well-educated, and finely-clothed. as far as material possessions went, he was never in want of anything. as a werewolf in a clan that treasured alpha wolves, as well, he was particularly graced and endowed. but while some, like his brother or his “uncle” ronan weren’t particularly inclined to learn about life outside of russia, dimitri craved the world. a naturally curious and inquisitive child, dimitri had read about the world beyond the motherland in illicit history textbooks and works of fiction. though he was born and raised in russia, dimitri’s high marks in school and family connections got him accepted into study abroad. as a result, his fluency in english is more articulate than that of either of his siblings.

dimitri attended elite private boarding schools growing up, eventually attending cambridge university to double major in history and english literature with a minor in russian language and literature. dimitri has a decided interest in academia, architecture, fashion, and the arts; as he was never intended to become the pakhan of the russian mafia or the pack leader, he allowed viktor to shoulder much of the responsibility that comes with the job, offering his support and opinions as a younger brother.

despite the fact that viktor was raised to take the crown after his father stepped down, dimitri has never resented his brother. on the contrary, viktor and tatiana are his closest friends; tatiana in particular was his nearest and dearest companion growing up, and he wanted to always support and protect her. so when tatiana was taken by the fallen angels and kidnapped, dimitri felt useless and beyond himself. he felt useless and restless without her and, though he would never admit this out loud, partially blames viktor for tatiana being taken. his feelings were irrational and based out of grief and anger, but now that time has cooled and passed, dimitri has to learn to atone with his anger, frustration, and guilt. between grieving sister’s kidnapping and his mother falling ill, dimitri has suppressed a lot of feelings in order to appear as though he is stoic and unfeeling to the trauma that has threatened to tear his family apart.

in a bid to form an alliance with other popular werewolf families and procure a spot of royalty for the valentinas that spread across the entirety of europe, viktor has agreed to a political marriage union between the daughter of another werewolf family on dimitri’s behalf. dimitri does not consent or envision the relationship as being profitable to him; on the contrary, he believes he is being shown off as little more than chattel to be bred and auctioned off. he has no desire to marry, particularly not to a woman he doesn’t even know, but feels that this is the sacrifice his family expects him to pay for viktor taking the responsibilities of a leader.

perhaps what dimitri most strongly opposes in thoughts of marrying against his will is his freedom to rut with whomever she wants. the woman who has become his confidant these long years is one such concern for the alpha wolf. she is indentured to him, a servant meant to serve his family, and dimitri is not entirely sure what his future as a forcibly married man will mean for himself and the life he knew before.

however, as he arrives in amsterdam alongside tatiana’s guardian angel, belen, and the valentinas’ indentured servant, dimitri is determined to win his sister back and escort his family back to russia. with that being said, dimitri has a feeling that any and all opinions he may have regarding his future will be deemed inconsequential. after all, he is just the middle child.

( tldr; dimitri is a brat but loves his family unconditionally )

#DIMITRI // #the lost prince: ( intro ) #nhqintro

[all-the-love-harold]

Chapter 9 - Everything Begins with a Heartbeat

Chapter 9 is here! @lovesmelikebrandnewstarlight deserves a special shoutout for helping me out with the title this time and for being the most supportive friend ever. Let me know what you think about what’s going on with Harry and Poppy! 

Chapter 8 

Master Post 

May 12th 2017 – 5 Weeks

5:00am

“Poppy wake up, it’s album day, wake up” Harry said softly into her ear as she stirred a little, hiding her head under the pillow. “Come on love, you’ve got work today,” she lifted her head, and looked at Harry

“Fuck you for releasing your album on a Friday and making me go into work” she said in a croaky sleep ridden voice

“Soz” he pulled the blankets off both of them and jumped out of bed “I’m going to make us coffee, you can get dressed”

He walked out of the room and Poppy rolled back over, groaning loudly and pulling the covers up over her head. She was excited for Harry, she really was, but it was early and she wasn’t supposed to be working on Friday’s any more. She heard Harry’s careful footsteps heading towards the bedroom and she slowly sat herself on the edge on the bed, moving her hand towards her stomach.

“Everything alright love?” Harry said as he walked back in the room, seeing her holding onto her pregnant belly

“Yeah” she said, ever since her doctor’s appointment last week, every little symptom stressed her out, from morning sickness to headaches. She was paranoid that  she was  going to lose the baby and she wanted to do everything she could to make sure that didn’t happen, and so did Harry. “It still doesn’t feel like this is real H”

“It will feel real after your scan next week” he handed her a cup of tea “drink this”

“Thanks” she said grabbing the cup and taking a sip “Oooh” she remembered the gift she bought for Harry “I have a present for you”

“For me?” he said surprised “Why?”

“Because you made a killer album and I’m proud of you” she stood up and opened her wardrobe, leaning down to find where she’d hidden the gift. It wasn’t much, a new journal because she was sick of the sight of the old one, and she thought a new era for Harry deserved a new Journal to write things down in, and a kiwi fruit, because that song had taken on a new meaning since she found out she was having a baby. Poppy handed him the gift bag and he unwrapped the journal first, untying the string and opening it, reading the message she wrote him on the inside cover.

“There’s always more songs to be written H, can’t wait to hear them”

“Thanks Pop, can’t wait to play them for you” he smiled

“There’s more in the bag” she gestured towards the bag as he opened it again

“No there’s not?” he handed her the bag and she looked inside, she must have forgotten to put the Kiwi in there when she got back from doing her groceries

“Stay there” she said, running out to the kitchen and grabbing one out of the fruit bowl, heading straight back to the bedroom “Catch” she said throwing it to him “Baby Brain”

He let out a full body laugh “you got me kiwi” he chuckled “that’s amazing”

“I thought you’d like it” she hugged him “Now go and shave and I’ll drop you home on my way to work”

“Who said I had to shave”

“Lou, and her and Harry will be waiting for you back at your place, so off you go.”

There was no way Harry could go to the studios with Poppy, aside from the fact that his suit was back at his place and he couldn’t turn up in nothing but his boxers, there would be hundreds of fans waiting for his arrival and she knew that he needed security with him. Not only was this a big day for Harry, but it was a big day for Radio 1, it was rare for them to have artists as big as Harry live in the studio, they usually pre-recorded interviews or they were done over the phone, so she needed to be there, to make sure things ran smoothly.

 Poppy got dressed, throwing on a pair of leggings and a long jumper, she’d started to gain a bit of weight with the pregnancy, not enough to make it obvious but enough for people to notice, so she stuck with baggy clothes that hung loose around her body. No one at work knew she was expecting  yet, she’d told Ben that she needed to take Friday’s for a few weeks to help Harry with a few things, so that she could reduce her stress levels, and when she finally reached 12 weeks, she would tell him the real reason.

Harry came out of the bathroom, clean shaven and dressed in an old shirt of his and a pair of track suit pants.

“You ready?” he asked as she put the final touches on her simple makeup look

“Yah” she nodded, turning around and grabbing her bag and car keys “Are you?”

“No” he admitted, referring not to his physical readiness to leave the flat, but to his readiness for the world to hear the album.

“You know it’s already out back home, it’s been out for a few hours”

“I know, it’s already out here too love, came out at midnight”

“Oh yeah” she said, opening the front door “I might listen to it at some point.” He let out a breathy laugh and followed her out and down the stairs to her car which lived in the basement. The trip to Harry’s house was mostly silent, his nerves evident already, until she remembered her morning sickness.

“You’re going to need to cover for me H”

“What do you mean”

“I don’t usually start work until 9 and by then the morning sickness is usually gone, or at least the vomiting part of it has, but there’s no way I’m going to make it through this morning without puking, so you’re going to have to cover for me, if someone asks you what’s going on”

He chucked a little “I’ll tell them you ate something bad”

“Thanks” she said pulling into his driveway, as he opened the door and punched the code into the gate to open it, she drove in so she could turn her car around and drop him closer to the door. “I’ll see you there H.” He smiled and closed the door behind him, making his way inside.

Harry’s house wasn’t far from the BBC Broadcasting house, and it only took her ten minutes to get there this early in the morning. It was almost 6 am when she walked into the building, the queasy feeling setting in.

“Morning everyone” she said, walking through the door to nick’s studio, handing them a cup of coffee that she’d picked up from the early bird café downstairs

“Hiya” Nick said, taking the coffee from her “Not used to seeing you this early”

“Big Boss Ben’s here, I’m here” Poppy laughed

“He’s not here yet” Nick laughed “But thanks for the coffee”

“Well, we’re supposed to be treating Harry like a celebrity, so I had to come in earlier to prepare myself for that.”

“Big day, guys big day” Ben walked in, plate of ham and cheese croissants in hand, the smell of which made Poppy gag, strong smells were really starting to get to her. “Right” he said “Poppy, is everything organised in the green room?”

“Not yet, but Harry’s requests were very little, just water, tea and fresh fruit”

“Great” Ben said “Alright, you two are live in three minutes” he pointed at Grimmy and Tina, “get yourselves organised and we’ll keep you posted on Harry’s arrival”

Poppy walked out of the room and rushed into the bathroom, locking the stall, and throwing up straight into the bowl of the toilet. Letting out a large sigh, hoping that nothing else was going to come up, she stood and flushed the toilet, using the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead and leaving the stall, finding Ella, the receptionist looking at her with concern.

“Everything alright?”

She nodded, taking a mint out of her bag and popped it in her mouth “I think I ate something funny last night”

“You’ve been looking like shit in the mornings for a few weeks now, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

She laughed nervously “No, not possible” she lied.

“I don’t believe you, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready” she walked out of the room, and Poppy looked at herself in the mirror, holding onto her stomach, and taking a deep breath before exiting the bathroom. Ella was her work wife, she knew most things about her and she could tell when things weren’t right, and if this wasn’t such a high-risk pregnancy, she would have told her about the baby, but she couldn’t risk it.

Poppy made her way to the green room to get everything set up for Harry, placing a bowl of his favourite fruits and a pot of tea on the table, leaving the water in the mini fridge, because she knew he liked it cold. As weird as treating Harry like a celebrity felt, she knew she had to keep this professional for the sake of Radio One. Harry’s people were also responsible for other high-profile people, and she couldn’t be seen treating Harry differently to them.

The morning ran smoothly, Harry arrived at 6:30, taking photos with Fans outside the building before coming into the green room, where she had his album displayed next to the fruit bowl. The interview with Grimmy ran smoothly too and by the time it was finished, Harry was feeling much more relaxed about the release of the album. Poppy had to duck out of  the room a few times, when the morning sickness became too much, and a few people noticed, but she was  able to play it off as food poisoning until Grimmy asked.

“You ok hun?” he asked once Harry had left. Poppy and Grimmy had become quite close since she  started working for Ben, spending time together in her lunch breaks and outside of work too, usually with Harry around.

“Yeah, just got a bit of food poisoning” she said shyly “Good job at keeping that professional, I know it’s hard when you know all the answers to the questions you’ve got to ask”

“Gotta treat it like work” he nodded “You sticking around today? Or are you out for the day?”

“I’ve got a few emails to respond to and phone calls to make, and then I’m outta here”

“Leave em for Monday babes, go home and get better”

“I second that” Ben called out “You’ve been puking all morning, you had Harry’s team worried for you, and every time you left it looked like Harry wanted to run after you”

“Surprised he doesn’t have food poisoning too, he’s been living in your flat for the last week”  Grimmy chimed in

“He gets lonely in his big house” she laughed “refuses to eat what I cook him though”

“I’m still not convinced that you’ve never slept with him” Grimmy said

“I promise you we haven’t”

“Don’t believe ya, you’re too close with each other”

“Swear on my Life”

“Whatever, just make sure he makes me best man at the wedding”

Poppy rolled her eyes and walked away, making her way towards her desk, which sat adjacent to Ella’s, looking out the window. When she sat down, she took a moment, to take a breath and try to settle her stomach. After a few minutes the urge to vomit passed and she got to work, hoping to be out of the office by lunch time. By 11:30 she’d responded to all her emails, scheduled a few guests for the coming months, and worked out Ben’s dairy for the next week, so she decided to call it a day. She packed up her desk and locked her laptop in its cabinet, saying goodbye Ella and Ben before going to find Grimmy.

“I’m out for the day Grim, I’ll see you tomorrow night?” she stuck her head around the corner, where his desk sat

“I think I’m going to head off too, Friday innit” he stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair “Shall we grab some lunch, if you’re feeling up to it?”

“Lunch sounds wonderful”

***

May 13th 2017, 8:00pm

This was Harry’s first full show as a solo artist, and he was nervous about it. He’d spent most of the day rehearsing and being a Saturday, Poppy had been at home relaxing, doing some research about her condition, to try and ease her mind. It didn’t work, she’d only stressed herself out even more. That’s why she was glad to be here at the garage, to take her mind off things for a while. She was standing next to Nick and Gemma when Harry walked out on stage with the band. Opening with Ever Since New York had been her idea, because it was an easy song for the crowd to sing along to.

“Oh tell me something I don’t already know” he sang, a smile spread across his face “Sing it” he grabbed the mic off it’s stand and held it out to the audience and they all sang it back to him. Watching Harry perform had always been something she loved, he truly was born for it, but standing there, in a crowd, largely filled with his closest friends and family, singing his songs back to him, was a special moment, there was a sense of solidarity with everyone in that room. They were all in this together, friend, family or fan, they  were here for Harry, no matter what.

“Hello” he said into the mic after singing Carolina “I’m Harry, nice to meet you, thank you very much for having me, how are you?” the crowd cheered and Harry spotted Poppy, tears forming in her eyes “Good! Poppy are you crying already?” she laughed, refusing to respond to his mockery, sending him a thumbs up instead “alright, she’s crying already” the crowd laughed and she hid her face in Nicks shoulder “So, my album came out yesterday, and uh,  I wanted to do a show, and uh, I’m going to play those songs, for you I hope you enjoy them, and uh, this is my first show in a long time, my first show ever, so it’s a night I won’t forget and I thank you very much for being here with me, this is Meet Me in the Hallway”

Throughout the show, every time Harry made eye contact with Poppy, he’d smile and wave, or make a silly face at her if she wasn’t singing along. Poppy and Nick spent most of the evening dancing along and beaming proudly at their best friend while he had the time of his life on stage.  After Harry finished his cover of Ultra Lightbeam, Nick turned to Poppy, with teary eyes “Pretty shit isn’t he”

“Awful, dunno why all these people like him” she joked, tears filling her eyes as well.

“That was not my song, uh thank you so much, uh, it’s uh always a little strange performing after not doing anything for a long time and I uh I’m a little rusty in the joints, I’m overwhelmed, since I put out the single, by your support your continued support, I couldn’t ask for a better group of friends to share this with”

“That’s us” Poppy and Nick said, jumping up and down pointing at themselves

“Yes, I can see you two idiots over there, I like you, you’re my friends” he said looking at them as they both high-fived

“We’ve made it” nick said sarcastically, as Harry introduced the crowd to his band.

The ‘Whoo hoo’s’ from Only Angel, echoed around the room and as Poppy and Nick danced he leant over to her “He’s never going to admit this, but I swear this song is about you”

“It’s just not” she gently pushed nick “he wouldn’t do that”

“He would” he said, yelling out a whoohoo with the crowd.

“I feel very lucky to have some friends and family in the audience tonight, I’d like give a special shout out, to my best friend in the whole wide world Poppy, without her, this album would not have happened, so if you’re near her, uh, I don’t know, maybe give her hug, but uh, be gentle because she’s pre – uh fragile, she’s fragile, uh this is Sweet Creature” he blushed smiling towards Poppy

Gemma turned and gave her a curious look, as a fan tapped Poppy on the shoulder and offered her a hug. She was lovely, asking her a few questions about Harry, while he sang Sweet Creature, a song that she knew was about her for sure.  For the rest of the show, Gemma kept a close eye on Poppy, watching as her hands occasionally brushed over her belly while she was dancing.

After the show, Poppy Nick and Gemma, made their way backstage to see Harry. Jeff and Tommy were standing in the corner, trying to find the bottle of champagne that they brought to make a toast with and muster enough glasses for everyone in the room. As they walked in Poppy shot Harry a look, telling him that she noticed his slip up and he mouthed a quiet “sorry” at her, while he continued his conversation with Sarah.

“Great show H” she said to him when he had a free moment. The room was so full of his friends and family that it was hard to move around in such a small space, but it was heart warming to see all these people here to support him.

“Thanks” he smiled “and sorry, about the slip up”

“It’s alright, Gemma may have noticed, but I don’t think anyone else did” she admitted “she might think it’s yours though”

He shrugged “we’ll clear that up when the time comes, let her think it for now if she wants.” Tommy came around and handed them both a glass of champagne and before Poppy even thought about not being able to drink it Jeff was standing on the table trying to get everyone’s attention.

“Guys” he shouted “Can I have your attention for a minute” the room went silent and everyone turned their attention to Jeff “Thanks, I’d just like to give a quick toast to Harry, we’re all proud of you H, it’s a great album, and I’m sure I speak for everyone in this room when I say that we’re excited to see where it takes you, you did a great job tonight and I’m sure that’s the first of many great shows, so” he raised his glass “to Harry”

The room erupted in a toast “To Harry” everyone responded and took a sip of their drinks. Poppy noticed Gemma look at her in that moment, so she brought the glass to her lips, making sure none of the liquid passed throughand handed the glass to Harry as soon as she looked away

“Drink this so Gemma doesn’t get suspicious of my full glass” he nodded, looking over to where Gemma was standing with Anne and downing it like a shot “Christ, I didn’t say skull it”

He shrugged “Didn’t want her to see.”

The venue only allowed everyone to stay for an hour after the show, so Harry invited everyone who was left to go back to his place for a few more drinks, but Poppy was tired, and she decided to call it night.

“I’m going to call it night H, I’m exhausted”

“Alright love, that’s probably a good idea, I’ll call in tomorrow, before I head off to L.A” he said slurring his words a little.

“Thanks” she wrapped her arms around him bringing him in for a hug “I’m proud of you”

“Wouldn’t be here without you love” he smiled “can I call you cab to get you home?”

“I’ll get the tube, it’s fine” she said searching her wallet for her oyster card

“Please” he said “it’s safer”

“Fine” she said, knowing that he wouldn’t give up until she agreed, especially if he was a little drunk.  

Poppy got home half an hour later and headed straight to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Pregnancy was really starting to tire her out, it was rare that she was awake past 10pm anymore and she usually took an afternoon nap. It was strange sleeping without Harry next to her, but she knew she would have to get used it, he was going to be away for the next two weeks and after that he would be constantly going back and forth, getting ready for the tour.

***

June 2nd 2017 – 8 weeks

Poppy sat next to Harry in the waiting room of her Midwife’s offices, waiting for her second scan. The  first one had  happened at 6 weeks, while Harry was in L.A, filming the Late Late show, and everything had gone well. It looked the baby had positioned itself so that herr condition wouldn’t affect it until later in the pregnancy, which meant that she probably wouldn’t carry until full term, but it wouldn’t cause a miscarriage. None the less, her midwife had suggested she has a scan every two weeks, just to make sure everything stayed on track.

“Poppy” the midwife called, and both her and Harry stood and followed her into an examination room. “This must be Dad?” she said looking at Harry

“No” she shook her head “He’s just here for support, Dad’s not in the picture”

Harry held his hand out to shake her hand “I’m Harry” he said

“Julie” she said, shaking his hand, doing a double take when she recognised his face “Harry Styles?” she questioned

“That’s me” he nodded

“Sorry, Mr Styles, this is very unprofessional of me, but I’m a big fan of your album”

“No you’re fine” he said, smiling “Thank you”

“Alright Poppy, since bubba is still very tiny, today’s scan is going to have to be another internal one,  so I’ll give you a second to strip your bottom half down, there’s a gown on the table there that you can put on” she motioned towards the hospital gown that sat folded in plastic wrapping on the bed “and Mr Styles, you’re welcome to stay, but if either of you are uncomfortable, you can sit in the waiting room until we’re finished with the scan”

“He can stay” Poppy said, to smiling at both of them. Julie smiled back and left the room, letting her get changed.

“When she says internal, does she mean, like” he moved his two fingers in an upwards motion “Inside?”

“Up my Vagina Harry” she said bluntly unbuttoning her jeans while he blinked at her bluntness

“Yeah good” he said, voice more high pitched than normal “I’ll stay up here then” he moved towards the head of the examination table

“Good move” she nodded, slipping the gown on and taking her jeans and panties off, laying down on the bed, feet up on the stirrups.

Julie knocked on the door, checking that she was ready and walked back in the room, sitting on the stool at the foot of the bed.

“We ready?” she asked, slipping a pair of gloves on. Poppy nodded and Harry reached down and grabbed her hand. The procedure was a little uncomfortable, like getting a pap smear, but it was worth it when she saw her baby up on the screen.

“Everything’s looking good Poppy” Julie said, turning the screen towards her, “Bubba’s sitting there on the left still, which is where want them to be, we’ve grown quite a bit since last time too, which is a wonderful sign” she felt Harry let out a sigh of relief “Shall we hear the heart beat?” both Poppy and Harry nodded

“Yes please” she said softly, trying to hold back tears

Julie pressed a few buttons on the ultrasound machine, and within seconds she could hear the sound of her baby’s heart for the first time. The  last scan was too early for that, the baby was too small, and the technology wasn’t good enough to be able to hear such a small heartbeat. Poppy’s eyes filled with tears and sher felt Harry’s grip on her hand tighten as his other had reached down and started rubbing her shoulder.

“It’s the most beautiful sound in the world isn’t it?” Julie said smiling, “I’ve taken a recording of that for you to take home, I’ll give you two a second, and you can get changed, and when I come back we’ll go through a few things, ok?”

“Great” Poppy  said, “Thank you”

She walked out of the room and she sat listening to the heartbeat for a few seconds. “It’s real Harry” the tears were streaming down her face now “There’s a baby in there”

“There’s a baby in there,Pop” he said, wiping her tears away and helping her sit up “I can’t see it, but I can hear it”

Poppy laughed “It’s right there H” she said pointing to the tiny white dot on the screen “Like a little potato.”

“Your little spud” he smiled at her

“Our little spud H” she smiled back “I know it’s not yours, but you’re the closest thing it's got to a Dad”

“Our little spud” he said helping her sit up, and hugging her “Now put some pants on would ya?”

Poppy giggled and climbed down off the bed, picking up her jeans and panties and slipping them back on, discarding the gown onto the table, and taking a seat in the chair next to the desk. A few minutes later Julie walked back into the room, with another woman, who Poppy  assumed was her obstetrician.

“Miss Thomas, Mr Styles, this is Doctor Miller, she’s going to be your obstetrician, she specialises in pregnancies like yours and she’s got a few things to talk to you about”

“It’s lovely to meet you both” Dr Miller said, taking a seat at the desk “thanks Julie”

Julie smiled and left the room, leaving them with the doctor.

“Now, I don’t want either of you to be worrying about anything, I’ve taken a quick look at your scan and everything is looking very healthy, baby is growing at the normal rate and your placenta looks healthy too”

“Great” Harry said, placing his hand on Poppy’s thigh

“As I’m sure Julie mentioned last time, pregnancies like this often don’t make it full term, and natural births are rare, so normal procedure is to schedule two different C-section dates, one at 35 weeks, and one at 38 weeks, and throughout the pregnancy we will monitor the growth of the baby and decide what needs to happen when the time comes – are you ok with that?”

“Of course” Poppy  nodded

“Great, so 35 weeks would put us at November 17th and 38 weeks would put us at December 8th” Poppy saw the look on Harry’s face, knowing that he was still on tour for both of those dates, and there was no way he could cancel it at this stage. “Now obviously we try our best to let you get to full term, so just because these are booked in doesn’t mean they’re set in stone, what will probably happen in the last few weeks is that you’ll be put on bed rest, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it”

“Good” she nodded

“For now though, you still need to be taking it easy, make sure you’re taking your vitamins and getting enough rest”

Poppy continued nodding along with what she was saying “Has Julie spoken to you about the Harmony test?”

“She mentioned it briefly last time”

“Great, well all it is, is a simple blood test that screens for any genetic abnormalities, and we’re able to tell the sex much earlier than we would be with just scans”

“Cool” Harry said

“It’s not a part of the NHS though, so it’s completely up to you weather you have it or not, it’s quite expensive”

“That’s not a problem” Harry said, looking at Poppy

“I’ll let you two decide if that’s something you want, if you decide to do it, all you have to do is ring up and book in a blood test”

“Wonderful” Poppy  smiled

“Alright, I think that’s everything we needed to talk about for this appointment. We’ll continue with the scans every two weeks for the rest of your first trimester, and we’ll reassess from there.”

“Great” she said, picking up her bag “It was lovely to meet you”

“You too” she smiled, opening the door for them.

Poppy and Harry made their way out of the practice and back to his car, ducking theirr heads to avoid being seen. Once they got in the car and they were headed back to Poppy’s flat, Harry spoke.

“I don’t want you to worry about money with this Pop, if you want that test, please book it in, I’ll pay for it, it’s the least I can do, if I’m not going to be here for the birth”

“Me and little spud are going to do everything we can to keep him in there for an extra week until you get back”

“Him?” Harry smiled at her

“It feels like a boy.”

#imagine #imagines #harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #harry imagine #fluff #one direction fluff #harry fluff #harry styles fluff #solo harry #harry styles x ofc #ofc imagine #harry ofc #ofc fan fiction #fan fiction #fanfic #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #one shot #one direction one shot #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #one direction blurbs #drabble #harry styles drabble #harry styles drabbles

[enby-jetstar]

shameless capri sun squad req: cupie kiwimonster, kiwi's beard gets outta control and monster refuses to give him ANY smooches until he shaves !!!

u know i can't resist the siren call of queerplatonic shenanigans 👀

-----

Kiwi’s climbing down from his art loft, an old metal bucket full of chalk in one hand, when he sees Monster come inside. 

Grinning, Kiwi sets the bucket on the floor with a clang and hurries toward her. “Monster!” he exclaims. He hasn’t seen her in a few days, since she’d gone off to a nearby stronghold to pick up some supplies. “Hey, how was your trip?” 

Monster grins back at him, showing off that chipped tooth of hers that Kiwi loves so much. “Pretty fuckin’ good,” she says, opening her arms for a hug. Kiwi throws himself into the embrace, wrapping his own arms around her and squeezing her tight. They’re rarely apart from each other for more than a few days at a time, so being away from his cupie for days has been torture. “Got that generator we needed,” she continues, “an’ found a fuckton of old fabric scraps, Fruitsy oughta find somethin’ to do with ‘em.”

“Didja have fun?” Kiwi asks, giving her one more, extra-tight squeeze before releasing her to straighten up. “And where’s my ‘hello-I-missed-you-so-much’ kiss?”

Monster laughs. “I had fun,” she says. “Woulda been better with you an’ the others there, though.” She leans forward to press her lips against his cheek, but stops before she actually gets there.

Kiwi waits patiently, but instead of giving him a big ol’ smooch on the cheek, she pulls back, her face contorted with disgust. “Ugh,” she huffs. “I leave for, like, three days, and ya don’t even bother to take care’a yer basic goddamn hygiene in that time?”

Kiwi purses his lips at her. “I showered the day before you left,” he says. He lifts one arm and takes a deep sniff of his armpit. “I don’t even smell as bad as usual!”

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout your odor,” Monster says, scowl deepening. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout your scruff!” She points dramatically at his face.

Kiwi lifts his hand to his face and runs his fingers over his cheek. And, yeah, okay: he’s scraggier than usual. But so what? Shaving in the desert is hard when you don’t have a lot of water or much shaving cream! So maybe he’s been slacking, especially without Monster here to make him shave.

“It’s not that bad,” he says, rubbing his hand over his face. “Feels kinda nice, actually.” A thought strikes him, and he grins mischievously as her. “Hell, maybe I’ll grow it into a full beard, y’know?”

Monster’s expression shifts into one of horror, and then she socks him hard in the shoulder. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” she says. “I’d never kiss ya again.”

He just keeps smiling at her. “You’d have to eventually,” he says, leaning closer. “Ya know y'can’t resist your cupie for long!”

Monster grunts at him, shoving at his chest. “I can resist ya as long as I need to,” she says. “Y’know what? Yeah. I’m not gonna kiss ya at all ‘til ya shave that scruff off!”

Kiwi waggles his eyebrows at her. She glares at him. 

He leans in closer. She turns her head away, looking pointedly away from him.

Seeing his chance, Kiwi grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her in close, rubbing his scraggly cheeks all over her face.

Monster squeals and punches at him, and though she’s clearly trying not to show it, Kiwi can feel her suppressed laughter. He rubs his cheek against hers one last time and then releases her, grinning.

She socks him in the arm again, and, okay, ow. That one really hurt. Okay, yeah, he deserves that.

Kiwi laughs. “Is it really that bad?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “Feels nasty! All scratchy an'...ugh!”

“Okay, okay,” he says, still grinning. “I’ll shave it off. Promise you’ll gimme that ‘hello-I-missed-you-so-much’ kiss after?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says dismissively, but she’s smiling too, her posture relaxed. “If it means so much to ya.”

“It really does,” he says.

💖

Fifteen minutes later, Kiwi stands before his cupie, “freshly shaven an’ ready for smoochin’,” as he tells her.

Monster rolls her eyes, a fond expression on her face. “C’mere, then,” she says.

Kiwi steps forward, and Monster leans in and plants a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. “Missed ya, Kiwi,” she murmurs.

“Missed you too, Monster,” he says, and gives her a kiss on the cheek in return.

-----

send me a danger days prompt! :)

#danger days #killjoys #ttlotfk #answers #funkobraofficial #Too Much Hairy = Bad #Just A Little Hairy = Good #kiwi doesn't actually mind shaving he just forgot to do it while monster was gone aslkdmf #fic #fanfic #capri sun squad #kiwi blast #monster alarm #mine #my zucchini

[teatimewithhiddles]

Kiwi - One Shot

*Warning - language only*

"Fuck! Bloody wanker!" I heard Tom shout from upstairs as I prepped my lunch for work the next day.

"Umm...Tom? I thought you were alone up there. Who are you calling a wanker?" I laughed as I walked up the stairs. "Where are you?"

"Shaving! My razor is the bloody wanker!" he grumbled.

"Are you bleeding?" I asked as I walked in. "OH!" I stumbled as I saw what happened. A large patch of beard was now missing from his left cheek and chin.

"Oh is right! I was trying to trim the fucking thing and the guard slipped. Can't exactly go on Graham Norton tomorrow looking like this now can I?"

"The look for a new character?" I tried. "One no one knows about yet?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "No?" I laughed.

"No. Do you think I could pull off just a moustache?"

"You can pull off a lot of things but please no. Goatee or a full beard, yes please. Just a moustache? No. Afraid it'll have to be a clean shave. I'll miss nuzzling my kiwi fruit" I grinned, running my fingers through what was left.

"You read Tumblr just to get me going don't you?" he laughed.

"They give me some fun ideas. Nothing like a little Hiddlesmut" I winked.

"Oh for fuck's sake. I don't want to know!" he blushed.

"Some of them are surprisingly accurate" I grinned.

"Stop" he laughed as he prepped to shave the rest of his beard off. I sighed as I sat there on the edge of the tub watching him. "What?"

"I just enjoy the professor look with the full beard, curls and glasses. You'll still be handsome as hell but it will be odd to see you clean shaven with the curls and glasses."

"Are you telling me I need a haircut if I shave?" he pondered as he began the process.

"NO! Absolutely not! I can't lose both at the same time!" I laughed, winking at him.

"I see how it is! You only love me for my looks!" he teased.

"They're a ridiculously handsome bonus that came with the most amazing heart and soul I've ever had the pleasure of meeting and a sense of humor that is just as random and ridiculous as mine."

He blushed as he moved to the other side of his face. "I'm not so sure about all that."

"I am. As much as I love that face, it was your personality that kept me around. If you were a douche canoe, even those eyes couldn't have kept me around."

He burst out laughing. "Douche canoe? That's a new one. Glad to know I'm not one! Almost done."

I got up and stood next to him in the mirror. "Goodbye kiwi fruit! I'll see you again some day!" I grinned and kissed the last patch of beard.

"You're too much" he chuckled as he took off the rest of his beard and swiped a warm towel over his face.

"Mmmm smooth as a silk" I smiled, rubbing against his cheek like a cat.

He turned his head and captured my lips with his. "Still miss the kiwi fruit?" he murmured against my smile.

"Not at the moment."

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic

[dimitrivalentina]

&&. word has it ( dimitri valentina ) was just spotted around the city. ( he ) is a ( 27 ) year old affiliated with ( the russian mafia ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( sean o'pry ). ( he ) has been said to be ( intelligent & resilient ) but also quite ( proud & deceitful ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( the russian mafia prince ).

— ❝ do you know where the wicked go after death?❞

( hi there, kiwi here! this is the official intro for  the pensive, brooding, and darkly sarcastic russian mafia prince, dimitri valentina. i’m excite to see how he fits in with everyone else’s characters and would love to establish connections with him! please let me know if you’d like to plot; i’m available through both the group’s discord and tumblr ims. ♡ )

name: dimitri nikolai valentina

birthplace: saint petersburg, russia

birthday: december 14th | twenty-seven | sagittarius

scent: coconut and hibiscus

appearance: standing 6′3″ with a chiseled jawline, thick, swept-back black hair, steely eyes, and a fit frame, dimitri valentina is like something directly out of a stoic and classical portrait. dimitri’s beauty is dark and sinister, and that coupled with his brooding personality can make him come across as a deeply sinister and intimidating young man. he prefers to stay clean-shaven and well-groomed.

growing up wealthy, as the son of a mafia family, dimitri has known luxury and wealth for the entirety of his life. as such, he dresses in the finest clothes, has a fondness for cloaks, pea coats, and gloves, and even his sweaters are designer cashmere. he prefers high end fragrances and watches and loves shades of deep emerald and cranberry paired with black or dark grey pants or accents.

personality: intelligent, resilient, proud, deceitful, haughty, pretentious, cunning, ambitious, stubborn.

biography: dimitri valentina is the middle child of the valentina children, and as such, he has always felt particularly stuck. doomed to fall in the shadows of his strong, intelligent, and ambitious elder brother, viktor, and under the bright-eyed popularity and adoration of his baby sister, tatiana, dimitri felt he was always particularly underwhelming compared to his two siblings. as an adult, dimitri often feels that he has to overcompensate to prove he is not only worthy of his bloodline, but that he is as important as either of his siblings. he was born in saint petersburg, the glittering jewel of russia, to a loving and protective family. the valentinas were mafia royalty, and as such, dimitri was born into a lap of opulence and luxury.

dimitri grew up loved, well-educated, and finely-clothed. as far as material possessions went, he was never in want of anything. when his family made themselves known in new york city, he was perhaps the most eager about the move. a naturally curious and inquisitive child, dimitri had read about the world beyond the motherland in illicit history textbooks and works of fiction and couldn’t wait to see what the continent of north america had to offer to him. he spent a great deal of time between new york city and russia as he grew up, but his fluency in english is far more articulate than that of his younger sister, tatiana.

dimitri attended elite private boarding schools growing up, eventually attending the melbourne institute to double major in history and english literature with a minor in the russian language. dimitri has a decided interest in academia, architecture, fashion, and the arts; as he was never intended to become the pakhan of the russian mafia, he allowed viktor to shoulder much of the responsibility that comes with the job, offering his support and opinions as a younger brother.

despite the fact that viktor was raised to take the crown after the passing of his parents, dimitri has never resented his brother. on the contrary, viktor and tatiana are his closest friends; tatiana in particular was his nearest and dearest companion growing up, and he wanted to always support and protect her. so when tatiana was taken by the irish mafia and held for months, dimitri felt useless and beyond himself. he felt useless and restless without her and, in a sad sense, blamed viktor for tatiana being taken. his feelings were irrational and based out of grief and anger, but now that tatiana is back and safe with them once again, dimitri has to learn to atone with his anger, frustration, and guilt. between grieving the death of his parents and his sister’s kidnapping, dimitri has suppressed a lot of feelings in order to appear as though he is stoic and unfeeling to the trauma that has threatened to tear his family apart.

in a bid to form an alliance with the corsicans against the italians and the irish, viktor and the corsicans’ don, damien olivier, agreed to a political marriage union between dimitri and a corsican heiress by the name of margaux olivier. dimitri does not consent or envision the relationship as being profitable to him; on the contrary, he believes he is being shown off as little more than chattel to be bred and auctioned off. he has no desire to marry, particularly not to a woman he doesn’t even know, but feels that this is the sacrifice his family expects him to pay for viktor taking the responsibilities of a leader. 

perhaps what most strongly upsets dimitri about the thought of marrying against his will is his nearest and dearest friend--arielle starling. arielle, though a sister to a low-ranking mafia member indentured to his family--is the brightest spot of dimitri’s day. she has become his nearest and dearest friend in the past few years, and for reasons he cannot begin to comprehend, the thought of being married to someone and not seeing her every day fills him with a strange and complicated series of emotions, but none greater than sorrow and regret.

but with the war for diamonds on the horizon and mafias scrambling to gain control and influence over each other, dimitri has a feeling that any and all opinions he may have regarding his future will be deemed inconsequential. after all, he is just the middle child.

( dimitri basically appears to care about himself first and foremost, but his family and his closest friends are always his ride or dies )

#tdrintro #the lost prince: ( bio ) #ptsd tw