#Is What Does Toner Do For Skin And Hair

[29121996]

.

[katsukistofu]

ikea meatballs before marriage?

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ touya todoroki x fem reader. fluff. cursing. slightly suggestive. ⭑ your fiancé and you get a little too into playing house when you’re supposed to be furniture shopping for your new apartment.

“you’re home early.” touya smirks. an apron you’re ninety-nine percent sure he stole from the aisle showcasing the ovens with ‘i cook as good as i look’ printed on it is tied around his waist.

“i’m home!” you say cheerfully, playing along with him. 

you take a moment to study “your” kitchen and droop in disappointment. 

it was a bit too dim for your liking, the lighting.

there’s no way you could read the recipe books rei had gifted you without touya having to stand there and hold a flashlight while you did.

but the deep forest green accented cabinets, reaching all the way to the ceiling, were beautiful.

perfect for storing fuyumi’s leftover snacks that her students gifted her yesterday.

she had complained to you over the phone about how there was no space at home since all the cupboards were full of soba noodles, courtesy of your fiancé and little brother-in-law.

touya nervously watches, until he sees as you visibly brighten up, and he lets a little huff out, half in pride, half in relief. 

he knew his pick couldn’t be that bad.

then you spot the fake plant hanging from overhead, and grimace as you see a cluster of even more potted plants under it near the toaster. 

cute in theory, but definitely a fire hazard.

touya notices the little way your eyebrows furrow with doubt, and casually leans against the edge of the sink to distract you from making any more keen observations. 

you giggle at the way he almost knocks off the price tag on it in the process, too busy staring at you to bother noticing. 

“how was work?” your favorite fire hazard asks, reaching out a hand to gently brush a stray lash you didn’t notice from your cheek. 

your face always feels hotter than usual when touya pulls away, even after all this time.

“ugh, so exhausting,” you fan yourself a bit, let out an exaggerated sigh. “the printer blew up and got toner all over my clothes, can you believe it?”

“aw.” there’s a playful sparkle in his eyes as touya innocently frowns in sugary sweet sympathy. “want me to run a bath for you later?”

you can feel your cheeks start to burn. you just took one with him yesterday!

but of course you find yourself stuttering out, “oh, um sure.” 

the memory of his fingers softly massaging your scalp as he helped you wash your hair. the gentlest of touches on your skin as he lathered you in suds, pressing a kiss to your forehead between rinses flood back to you. 

you remember trying to wash his hair one time, but he quickly stopped you by trapping you in his lap, insisting that he wanted to do yours first. like he does during every bath he runs for you when you stay over at the todoroki house.

and he would take just as good care of you, your heart knows, in your cozy new apartment that was waiting for you back in shizuoka too. 

not too far from home, so that everyone could still visit, but not too close either, so the both of you had your own space.

touya grins as a shy expression suddenly crosses over your face, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about. 

with amusement, he watches as you reach over to set your purse on the white marble counter. 

a pair of strong hands claim their usual spot on your waist, holding you in place, and then you’re pulled away until your back bumps against a familiar, firm chest.

“uh-uh, mrs. todoroki.” he murmurs softly in your ear. “i just cleaned that for you before you got home.”

your breath catches. mrs. todoroki?  

“my bad,” is all you can manage to squeak out.

his nose tickles your cheek in response and you giggle at the feeling of his piercings, cold and soothing against your warm skin.

“so. what do you want for dinner today?” touya says, leaning over you to open the fridge. he scans its empty contents with a face so serious that you have to bite back a laugh. 

“what do we have?”

“stale air—i mean,” touya coughs. “uh, salad.”

“that’s it? just salad?” you point an accusatory finger at him, and he snorts at the way you force your eyebrows to scrunch together to make an angry face. so cute.

“oh, you think this is funny? take that apron off right now, you big phony.” 

“yes ma’am.” he laughs airily, reaching behind him to undo the tie when his hands stop. 

touya turns to you with a pout. “can you do it for me? my fingers hurt from cooking and cleaning all day.”

he makes it so hard to stay mad at him, even as a joke. 

you bite your lip to suppress the fond grin growing on your face, but it's too late, touya’s already seen it and he knows you’ll give into him soon enough.

“aw, my poor husband all alone in the house, cooking air and salad. it must’ve been so hard for you.”

he pouts even more. “it really was.”

the giggle you’ve been holding back finally spills from your mouth. he was ridiculous, and you loved him for it. “okay you big baby, i’ll untie it for you.” you move to stand behind him, hands reaching for the back of his waist to untie the neat bow he did for himself earlier.

“i think you mean your big strong husband.” touya leans his weight back into you. 

not enough to hurt you or make you fall, but just enough to give you a hard time undoing the knot of his apron. 

“sewing machine was acting up like crazy today, had to teach it some manners.”

“i’m sure you did.” you fight back another laugh, which turns into a whine as his broad back leans into your face even more. 

“touya stop it! do you want this apron off of you or not?”

you can practically hear him smirk from in front of you.

“i’m okay with anything as long as it keeps your hands on me.”

you step away from him and he lets out a ‘oof!’ as his back thuds against the hard floor of the ikea showroom, taking down a fake plant with him.

touya is donning a new apron when the two of you find yourselves outside of another kitchen showroom. 

“‘relax, i’ll feed you bitches.’ it read in bold. 

you giggle hysterically as he stands there, hands on his hips and looking way too proud of his find, as you snap a pic to send to the groupchat with his siblings.

i’d rather eat poison, natsuo texts back. 

his message is hearted by fuyumi and shoto a few moments later. 

a miffed touya reaches over your shoulder to steal your phone, which you easily let go of and surrender like usual with a laugh.

 his chin rests on your head, your back pressed to his chest as he perches his upper arms on your shoulders to text back. 

after he hits send with a satisfied smirk, the both of you walk onto the set.

the kitchen this time was one with a less colorful theme, yet you hear a sharp intake of breath from touya and you feel your own breath catch in your throat.

the tall windows and generous lighting more than made up for it. 

framed paintings of cranes were hung on the slate gray wall behind the dining table, and the refrigerator was much, much larger than the one you saw touya open before.

familiar indigo petals catch your eye. there was a beautiful painting of rindou flowers next to the window in the kitchen, and you can’t help but stare.

“mom would love those.” touya murmurs from beside you. your fingers lace through his as you smile softly in agreement. 

“she would.”

still in the second showroom, touya’s rummaging inside the cabinets while you study the spice rack. 

imagine all the goodies you could fit in there, from sesame seeds to shichimi togarashi.

you drool thinking about all the miso soups and sweet potatoes you could put them on when he suddenly turns to you.

“i’ve been working on my cocktails while you were at work, by the way.” touya grins, handing you an empty, plastic wine glass from where you’re perched on the granite countertop. “wanna try?”

you raise it to your lips and take a delicate sip of nothing. 

“oh yum! what’d you put in it?”

“kale juice.” he snickers behind his hand. “your favorite.”

you make a disgusted face. “well that’d explain the kick to it.”

“right? i really, really think fuyumi and natsuo would like it.”

“touya todoroki, don’t you dare.”

“hey.” he raises both hands in innocence. “a little kale never hurt anyone.”

“you say that but you hate kale.”

“a little kale never hurt anyone unless it’s me.”

you roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck. touya’s hands smoothly guide your legs to hug his waist, bringing you closer to him from where you’re sitting on the counter. he stays standing, towering over you. 

“can’t believe i’m marrying a hypocrite.” your voice is muffled against his shoulder, and he laughs.

suddenly, you gasp and point at the sink. “touya!”

his eyes widen at your raised voice, instinctively looking behind him for bugs to kill because that’s the only time your tone would sound that alarmed.

touya hugs you closer to him protectively. 

you can’t help but melt as his arms wrap even tighter around you, his serious turquoise eyes still scanning around the kitchen for any threats to you.

no bugs. 

no tacky “live, laugh, love”-esque sayings framed on the wall.

which he knows is your biggest interior design pet peeve after binging an insane amount of those house flipping shows with you.

“...what is it?” touya finally asks after a moment of hesitation. 

you giggle at the ticklish feeling of the cold silver of his lip piercing brushing against your forehead as he speaks.

“the dishes aren’t in alphabetical order!”

touya breathes a sigh of relief, then laughs into your neck. 

he pulls away to roll his eyes at you. “you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“what, why?” you laugh, fluttering your lashes at him. so utterly adorable, that he resists the urge to bite you.

touya fights back a blush and averts his eyes from your face, remembering his protective actions. they had been purely instinctive. he reaches up to cover his face with one hand.

“touuu!” you can’t help but laugh harder, reaching up to pry his fingers away from his face. “come on, look at me!”

touya shyly slides his gaze back to you, and lets you take his hand away from his face. 

you lace your fingers through his and lean in to give him a sweet kiss on the lips, which only makes him blush even harder. the chill of the ikea air conditioning did nothing to help.

his eyes trail in the direction of the spice rack you were dreamily looking at earlier.

“why is this crooked?” he frowns, reaching behind you to straighten it.

“pfft is it bothering you?” you take a glance at it. looked okay enough to you.

“yeah it is.” touya’s hands are on the shelf, trying to readjust it into the right position when suddenly—

snap!

the both of your eyes widen at the sound. 

the shelf was upright and more centered than before. 

except now it had a clean split down the middle of it.

of course, touya chooses to focus on the most important part.

“well at least it looks better now.”

and all he can think about as you laugh into his shoulder is that he can’t wait to stand hip to hip with you in your actual kitchen. 

sunshine peeking through the curtains as the two of you make soups, bake each other’s favorite pastries, and indulge in your random middle of the night cravings.

from now until forever.

after lunch in the restaurant, touya adds ikea meatballs to his list of favorite foods. 

you’re pretty sure that’s only because you fed them to him. 

because while you adore him to pieces, he is an unbelievably picky eater, much to fuyumi’s chagrin. 

luckily, he’ll eat anything as long as you’re the one giving it to him.

your sister-in-law thanks you for her lack of headaches when she makes dinner.

in the third kitchen showroom of today, you squint out the window behind the sink.

“i don’t know if i like it.”

“don’t know if you like what?” touya’s still washing his hand in the imaginary water under the faucet that’s clearly never going to start running. his silly self has been there for the past five minutes, at least. 

you hold back a laugh at how meticulous he is about it.

“the view.” 

he looks up and snorts at the wistful gaze you throw out the obviously fake window. 

it had a picture of city scenery taped on the wall outside of it, and the circular shape of a familiar building catches his eye. he recognizes it.

the meguro sky garden in tokyo.

the first place he ever took you out on a date to.

with a fond twitch of his lips, he remembers the way he almost tripped over his feet under the cherry blossom trees when you had suddenly pecked him on the cheek. all those years ago.

touya turns the faucet off, and comes up behind you to lean his head on your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. his eyes soften as you nuzzle against his chin. 

he knows that you know he can’t feel any sensations there anymore. 

but god, does touya love that you still touch him in the places where he can’t feel. 

the way you litter soft kisses under his eyes, stroke his forearms as you guide them to your waist. like they’re still a part of him, like he’s not broken.

like he’s always been whole to you, never any less. 

“but sweetheart,” touya muses. “think about how close it's close to the best schools.”

your face heats up as you realize what he’s talking about. like you haven’t thought about it a million times before.

a kid. with him.

his and your kid.

as if the universe read your mind, a very chubby baby being pushed in a cart passes by the opposite side of the window, covering the picture of tokyo’s scenery.

and it stares at touya and you with the judgiest look you’ve ever seen in your life.

the two of you glance sideways at each other and burst out laughing. 

“nevermind,” you giggle, feeling small and safe tucked in his strong arms. “maybe the view isn’t so bad.”

looking softly down at you, the beautiful color of your eyes meets his, and his heartbeat quickens.

touya can’t help but agree.

a familiar weight softly rests on your shoulder when you groggily open your eyes, and your fiancé is close to follow as he stirs beside you.

you flip around to face him from where he was spooning you, giggling at the little trail of drool coming from the corner of his mouth as you watch his eyes flutter open.

you feel your breath catch in your throat as you gaze upon him.

his hair is starlight in the morning.

touya, still half-asleep, snuggles against you, completely drunk on your warmth. the soft feeling of your skin against his. 

he doesn’t even try to resist it.

the little giddy smile that tugs at his lips whenever the cool feeling silver of your sapphire embedded ring sparkles under the sunlight pooling through the curtains of your shared bedroom as he laces his fingers through yours.

his own ring softly clinking against the one he gave you.

after moving into the privacy of the apartment, with no prying eyes or nosy siblings randomly bursting into his room, touya loves to sleep with his lips just barely grazing your neck.

whenever you wake up from a  nightmare, he’s already kissing the nape of it, the protective hand he has on your hip smoothing circles into your bare skin.

when he wakes from his, you’re already quietly cradling him in your arms, running your hands through his midnight black hair. 

you really have no idea how hard you make it for him to get up.

but the idea of seeing you happily smile because of him is what gives him the final push to wriggle out of your embrace, and the adorable little pout you give him  almost breaks his heart.

“where you going, tou?”

he grins cheekily, placing a finger on his lips. “it’s a secret.”

there's a grumble from you in response and he smooths the crinkle between your furrowed brows with a gentle kiss.

“i’'ll be back soon, i promise.”

“you better or i’m eating your last pocky.”

he laughs at your threat, as if he wouldn’t give it up to you the moment you asked.

at the sight of your eyes already starting to droop, touya presses another kiss to your forehead. “go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“no.” you pout as his socks pad against the floor when he leaves the room with another laugh. 

huddled up in your floral patterned blankets, you drink in the faint scent of sweet cologne that lingers on them. 

it still smells like him. warm like him, too.

there’s an old photo of touya framed on your nightstand. you love to look at when you fold his and your clothes. 

rei had slipped it out of the family album for you to keep the moment she saw how much you liked it. 

it’s the one where he’s holding a baby shoto like a football in his arms. there’s an easy grin on his face.

you look at it for a little longer, letting a sleepy, content smile spread across your lips. 

until five more minutes pass, and you’re starting to feel impatient.

“shoto!” you call out the doorway in the direction of the guest room you set up for him the day before he came to visit. “what’s your brother doing?”

“cooking.” comes shoto’s soft voice floating down the hallway.

and that’s all it takes for you to get up and rush to the kitchen at lightning speed.

thankfully, the fire alarm hasn’t gone off yet by the time you get there. 

you find touya slicing peaches on the counter, in front of the painting of rindou flowers. there’s a plate of neatly assorted fruit next to him, and your eyes widen as you admire the rose-shaped strawberries. how’d he do that?

“hey.” touya’s eyes narrow playfully when he notices you, putting down the knife. “you’re supposed to be in bed.”

you place your hands on your hips. 

“and you’re supposed to not be burning our new apartment down.” 

throwing a cautious glance at the unmanned pancakes sizzling in the pan beside you, you add on. “with your little brother in it.”

he breathes a laugh and saunters over where you’re standing by the fridge, cornering you to the counter. 

your fiancé grins at your stammers when he leans closer. he can practically feel the heat from your cheeks from here, and touya thinks the tiny house plant overhead grows an inch taller from the sheer warmth you’re radiating.

“stove’s off, sweetheart. they’re not gonna burn.”

“o-oh.” you sigh in relief.

“you worry too much.” touya murmurs softly as holds you in place by the waist to hold up a spoonful of blueberries he forgot to add to the batter. 

your lips reluctantly part to let him feed you, and his heart skips a beat at the hint of a smile on your face.

“mmph!”

suddenly, touya’s lips are on yours and you taste the sweet tartness of the peach he must’ve had before you came over. 

the cold piercing of his tongue teases your mouth and he corners you even further against the cool marble of the counter to make out, just as you hear a pot start to boil and your eyes snap open. 

you’re breathless as you muster all your willpower and break away from him.

“touya, the pot!” 

“oops.” he glances at it, still caging you against the counter with his arms. 

“forgot about that.”

“found your necklace that fell behind the bed last week.” touya says later after breakfast. you’re both sitting on cushions fuyumi and natsuo gifted you at the coffee table in front of the tv, watching ponyo as sunlight seeps into the living room.

it swings it back and forth on his finger and your eyes widen in relief.

“i was looking everywhere for that to wear to shoto’s class party!” 

“i know.” he grins, and you sigh as he presses a soft kiss to your neck. of course he did. 

touya reaches around your neck to securely clasp the back of the necklace’s chain, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“i think i deserve a little reward.”

you giggle, he was so cute.

“thanks touya.” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he pouts.

“not there.” 

“where then?” you smooth your hands against his bedhead and he almost whines when this time, you press a kiss to his forehead. “here?” 

always such a tease, and he adores you for it. 

touya looks like a desperate puppy as he huffs, nudging your nose with his. 

like you didn’t spoil him with kisses yesterday when he fixed the washing machine that was acting up.

you’re still not totally sure how he did it, but that was probably because you zoned out while he was explaining it to you. 

too busy watching the way his forearms flexed as he fixed the pipes behind it and when he’d take whatever wrench or screwdriver he asked you to hand him from the toolbox.

finally, finally your lips find his and you kiss him, soft and sweet.

a cool breeze blows through the open window, and the both of you breathe it in, smelling dewdrops on grass from the rain last night and hints of sunshine. 

touya smiles against your mouth, arms pulling you into his lap so he can taste you better.

you’re stuck with him. 

from now until forever.

“or maybe home is just two arms wrapped around you when you’re at your worst.”

— danagray

[strawberry-lychee]

self-care night w/ simon

self-care, charcuterie, and movie night with simon <3 he literally doesn't care what for dinner as long as you're for dessert!! tags: a little nsfw, but mostly fluff and loving on simon, i wanna appreciate the quiet moments you get with him <333 a/n: i dont think i've written fanfic since i was 17/18 but my current hyper fixation is ghost and so the brain worms need to come out

'girl dinner~ girl dinner~~~ giiiiirlll dinner~~~~' you sing to yourself, laying out slices of a freshly baked baguette, prosciutto, brie, strawberries, and other delectable little treats along the long cutting board.

youre at simon's flat right now since he's on leave and you both want to spend every second together that you can!! while simon was at the gym, you went to go get snacks for a movie night in together!! you had big plans to stay in and do nothing!! you weren't sure if everything you had planned was really simon's thing but you loveddd a little self-care night and you know that if you love it, simon's always game to play along (he's so sweet to you like that!!)

simon comes out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower. his hair's still a bit wet and he's wearing a soft worn black t shirt and matching black boxer briefs. it takes all your willpower to not be a horny little shit and start something right now. "'m ready," he tells you.

"ooo yay!!" you cheered, excited. you had specially requested that simon let you do his skincare after showering.

he watches you gingerly setting the charcuterie board on the coffee table. he notices that there's already a glass of whiskey waiting for him. there were also two wine glasses sitting on the table adjacent to a pink wine bottle. and everything was sitting on top of these ceramic coasters you picked out and painted as a surprise for him during one of your first dates <3

simon watches you bounce over to him. you've already changed into one of his shirts and some little shorts. he's undressing you in his head as you take his hand and guide him back into the bathroom.

the corner of his lip quirks upwards as he lifts you by your waist onto the bathroom counter so you can have easy access to his face. you slide to sit closer to the edge so simon can stand right in between your legs.

your toiletry bag was already sitting on the counter. you dig through it pulling out tiny bottles of toners and serums and moisturizer. simon listens intently as you explain what each one does. you shake some toner onto your plans and massage it into simon's face. he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, content and safe. sometimes his mind wanders off to other things -- chores he still needs to get done, if his mom and dad were ever like this, flashbacks to the mission he just completed -- but your soft touch brings him back to the present. simon sits and revels as you work through each step, gently and lovingly massaging the potion you've brewed especially for him into his face. into the scars lining his jaw and cheeks. into the wrinkles of his skin from hours of stress, of laying in the sun, scoping out his target, of fretting about why you're still here, with him.

simon's resting his hands on your thighs, and he gives them the gentlest squeeze. it's a silent reassurance to himself -- that you're really there. with him. the prettiest bird he's ever met is in his little flat welcoming him home from deployment. he still doesn't understand how or why there's a soft spot in your heart for a brute like him, but he's learning to stop questioning it. he's learning that maybe he does deserve you after all. maybe simon does get to be happy.

"almost done~, just gotta do some lip balm next" you chime. simon grunts in acknowledge, his eyes still closed. he can't see anything, but he hears you pull out something else from your toiletries bag. you unscrew it, a moment passes, and simon barely registers the scent of strawberries before feeling your lips press up against his.

simon contently moans into the kiss, thinking about the passionate sex you two had last night... and this morning and right before he went to the gym. he raises his hands to firmly brace your hips against his. before simon has the chance to start nipping at your lips, you pull away and say, "all done!"

you even take a finger to swipe some excess lip balm off the corner of his mouth before you giggle and slip off the bathroom counter, absolutely aware of the effect you have on him. you love being his little minx <3

you walk over plop down on the couch and smile at simon, patting on the seat next to you, inviting him to join. for now, he ignores the growing tent in his boxers.

as soon as he sits down, you scooch up against his side and he raises his arm to wrap it around your shoulders. as you rest your cheek on him, simon feels a warmth creep up inside. you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle. before meeting you, what did he even do while he was on leave? this is the most at ease he's felt in a long time. the long lonely nights of sitting by himself on his couch, trying to figure out what to do next are in the past.

you turn to plant a kiss on his shoulder. there's a part of simon that preens under the ample attention you shower him with.

"you wanna try a bite of all this?" you asked. simon knows you're talking about the charcuterie board you put together, but he's thinking about something else he'd like a bite of 👀 👀

simon doesn't even have to give you a verbal response, he just opens his mouth and you slide in a delicate little bite of baguette and brie with a drizzle of honey on top into his mouth. he chews and chews, and relishes it. simon's never been one for 'fancy' food like this, but the fact that you prepared it for him warms his heart. it's been a long time since someone's made food for him. simon nods thoughtfully and takes a sip of his whiskey. "that's fuckin' gourmet right there," he says.

you giggle again. "im so glad you like it!!" you say. it sends a chill down simon's back.

oh, he could get used to this.

[onmykneesformatt]

vanilla - c.s.

requested: yes!!

synopsis: after a lengthy relationship, chris decides to try and surprise you on your 7 month anniversary. it doesn’t go how he planned, and he feels bad.

warnings: SMUT OH MY FUCK. just very aggressive (no major abuse or violence), degrading, choking, hair-pulling, overstimulation, use of safe word, aftercare, angst (happy ending tho!!), i don’t think anything else but lmk!!

a/n: i think it’s about time i write smth about chris and feed y’all. so, eat up!! (also i tried to put a picture and it literally wouldn’t let me😭)

you and chris never really thought about kinks or anything like that. you had talked about it, but the furthest you two ever went was just filming it once or twice. even then, it was still very vanilla. it was soft, enjoyable, and not very rough.

chris wanted to change that.

“so, wait. are we going somewhere?”

“we can, but that’s not the surprise.”

chris kind of smirked, knowing that his surprise was not something you expected.

“can you just tell me? it almost dark out and we’be barely done anything all day except for you making me a nice breakfast. which, i did appreciate by the way.”

“you’re welcome, and no. i’m not telling you.”

he tapped his fingertips together and chuckled lightly. he liked surprising you. he’d done it multiple times before. a bouquet on your door step, a new pair of expensive heels, even flying home early from boston and not telling you. it was his thing.

and tonight was a surprise.

-

at 9:30 pm, you started to get ready for bed. you almost did it in protest for how you and chris barely did anything today.

“oooh, what’s this? toner? replace the t with a b.”

he giggled. how dare he? after not giving you a major day like he does every other anniversary?

you kept a straight face, not breaking eye contact with your face in the mirror as you kept applying serums and creams.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, chris.”

he knew that whenver you ended a sentence with his name, you were mad.

“look, how about i meet you in the bedroom in five minutes, and make it up to you?”

you let a little smile show, remembering that your surprise to him was a peachy-orange lingerie set that hugged you in all the right places and showed all the right skin.

“fine.”

-

it started slow and sweet, like always.

but it slowly turned into more.

he went from having you on your back with him lightly laying on you to flipping you onto all fours and ripping the new lingerie set off— literally.

“chris-“

“shut up and take it. i know you can, slut.”

it felt good, the way he was pounding into you.

what didn’t feel good was him calling you the one word you didn’t like. after he started pulling your hair, it all felt real.

were you really just some toy he used? was this his breaking point where he realized he didn’t actually like or respect you like he pretended?

“chris, i don’t-“

he pushed your face into the pillow, tightening his grip on your hair.

“i said shut the fuck up. god, you really are just some slut who thinks she can do anything she wants.”

tears started welling in your eyes. they only strengthened when he started swatting your ass and digging his free hand into your back.

it hurt. like, actually hurt. but he wouldn’t listen.

he was never like this. chris? be aggressive? especially in such a vulnerable moment? never. until now.

after almost suffocating with your face in the pillow for what felt like hours, you tried to shift your face over just enough to be able to breathe. it was hard, with his grip on your hair pushing your head down into it.

eventually, you were able to properly breathe. you started breathing heavier and heavier. not from pleasure, but from overstimulation. from pain.

“i- i can’t! chris!”

he could barely hear you over his grunts and the sounds of skin slapping loudly.

“cant.. can’t what? slut can’t use her words now?”

you tried, but he was causing you so much pain that the tears were taking over. so much so, that you just broke.

what he thought were breaths and tears of pleasure started to settle in, and he finally realized. your pillow and face wet with a taste of salt, and your heart pounding so bad you started shaking.

he slowed down, moving your messy, wet hair out of your face.

“vanilla! vanilla!”

your safe word. you never needed it before, but you guys thought of it after having sex the first or second time. he always wanted you to know you were in control of what was happening too. in a sort of inside joke/mockery, he made it “vanilla”.

“hey- hey.”

he took a second to gather himself and pull out, sitting next to you on the bed. your body fell limp on the sheets.

“what’s wrong-“

“no!”

he tried to rub your shoulder, but your yelling frightened him. it should’ve. the way he caused you the pain he did was horrible.

“hey-“

“just- stop! what-“

your crying intensified, leaving him with a concerned look.

“what made you think that was okay?!”

you tried to stand, stabling yourself with a hand on the bed and the other holding a throw blanket to cover your body.

“what do you mean-“

“what do i mean? chris- you just.. started going crazy! it felt good at first, but you pulled my hair, you dug your nails into my back! you- you called me a slut!”

“i thought-“

“no you didn’t! you didn’t think at all!”

it finally hit him.

that word.

the one word he promised to never use.

“baby- i didn’t mean any of it!”

“then why’d you do it!”

tears turning into anger at his stupidity slowly dried up.

“i thought it would be a nice surprise for our anniversary! but, i’m sorry. i forgot about that word.”

that word was used against you everyday in highschool, ever since you gave some kid a handjob at the park. anytime you wore something even slightly revealing. it opened a floodgate for name-calling.

the tears started up again once silence filled the bedroom.

again, chris was never like this. you always thought he would provide the comfort you so desperately needed in your life. however, it seemed like he thought otherwise.

chris stood up, walked around the bed, and engulfed you in his arms. after realizing that he truly didn’t mean it (doesn’t make it okay, but it’s good he realized he was in the wrong), you hugged him back.

“how about we clean up. can i help you with that?”

you sniffled while stepping back from him. you dropped the blanket and wiped your eyes.

“yeah.”

you spoke softly, still trying to catch light breaths.

he grabbed your hand, leading you the bathroom.

he started the shower, grabbing your coconut body wash out of the bathroom closet along with a soft, white towel.

after getting you into the perfectly-warm shower, he started to clean you up. he didn’t let you move a muscle. he made sure you were fully clean and taken care of before even thinking about himself. he grazed your body with the loofah, making sure every inch was perfectly covered.

“i really am sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to take it that far. i think i just got too excited. i’ll never do it again, i can promise you that.”

“a warning would’ve been nice. i get why you did it. throw in a little variety, or whatever. but that word really set me off.”

“i know, i know.”

he kissed the back of your damp head, making sure you knew he meant his sorrow.

“i forgot. but, no excuse. how about now i dry you off and get you into some comfy clothes, hm?”

his tone was low but sweet. your heart stopped racing, your breath caught up, and your mind was at ease.

“okay.”

after he dried you off, still not letting you do it yourself, he grabbed your hand to lead back into the bedroom. while you were sat patiently on the edge of the bed, he rummaged through drawers and shelves looking for your favorite sleep shirt and a pair of under wear with comfortable shorts.

“this good?”

“yes. thank you.”

“stand up, please.”

you dropped your towel, letting him glide the extra large graphic tee over your head. you lifted each leg as he slid the underwear up, then doing the same with the loose shorts.

“get comfy in bed, i got some treats for you earlier.”

“really? thank you, chris.”

“anything for my girl. she deserves nothing but the best, so i try all for her.”

he kissed your forehead before you slid into the bed, pulling the thick comforter over your body and turning on your favorite show.

-

you fell asleep in eachothers arms, but not until he gave you a lengthy apology.

you know he didn’t mean it, but he needed you to remember he wouldn’t do it again.

his heartbeat under your head lulled you into a deep slumber. a soft, orange light coming from the lamp in the corner of the bedroom mixed with the tv still playing your favorite show made just enough light for you to not have any other worries that night. an open bag of the tastiest chocolate on the nightstand next to two open soda cans had filled your stomach and your heart. the soft laugh tracks in the background and fan lightly blowing on you gave you the comfort you needed.

the biggest comfort was chris’ concern.

he loves you.

you love him.

that’s all you need.

-

AHHHH ITS DONEEEEEEE!!!!! i pray that this is as good as y’all are expecting 😭😭 but seriously though, i thank y’all for the support. i’m at 300 followers already (WHAT THE FUCK) and i couldn’t have done it without you guys. love y’all!! mwah!!💋❣️🌺

taglist: @sleepysturniolo @suyqa @jessie-essie @sturnsobsessed

sorry if i missed anyone that wanted to be tagged!!

[daenysx]

imagine giving james a skincare sesh where reader is seated comfortably (on his lap ehm) and he lets her put all sorts of moisturizers, face masks and even lip balm on him and he secretly LOVES it and after they eat homemade cookies and watch their comfort show

thank you for requesting!! i had so much fun writing this, it's my skincare routine applied to james. i guess that means he's literally my boyfriend now (support my delusions please <3333) you can send me requests for james!

james potter x fem!reader, fluff

"are you ready?" you say, grinning. you carried most of your skincare essentials to living room, ready to give your tired boyfriend a nice spa day.

"yes." james walks out of the bathroom. "i washed my face."

"with the cleansing jel?"

"yes, baby." he sits on the couch next to you. you place yourself on his lap expertly, his face looks dry and clean. you lean to give him a kiss on his cheek, james settles down on couch with his back to pillows.

"okay." you say, clapping your hands. you're excited to give him a nice treating, he deserves all the best. you've never understood how boys have clear and smooth skin naturally, james certainly doesn't use as many products as you do, but he lets you do anything you want to him. skincare is like a therapy for you, quality minutes you spend on yourself. it's relaxing, taking care of your body without a single thought in your mind, you want james to experience it, too.

"let me just pull your hair back first." you say quietly, using tiny hairclips to secure his curls.

"why are you whispering?" he asks, whispering.

"i wanna create a relaxing ambience for you." you answer. "whispering is a part of it."

"oh." he teases. "okay."

you take your face toner in your hand, pouring some of it on a cotton pad. "close your eyes, jamie." you say, start applying it on his skin.

james relaxes into the pillow, his hands keep you balanced on his thighs. he likes how excited you get to take care of him, he likes being spoiled by you. your fingers are gentle on his face, almost invisible.

"now i'm gonna put on a face mask, handsome." you say, tearing the package of the mask. "it can feel a bit cold."

"that's okay." he mumbles. you place the mask on his skin carefully, adjusting the sides to cover his entire face. "what does this do?"

"um," you read the package. "it's for hydration mostly, and it has vitamin c in it."

"cool." he has no idea what vitamin c does for skin.

"we're gonna wait for 15 minutes." you say. "can i massage your hands while we wait?"

this must be some kind of special heaven for james. he gives you his hands blindly, you put on hand cream on the back of his hands and start rubbing it nicely on his skin.

james sometimes complains about how rough his hands feel, he washes them a lot and always neglects applying moisturizer. the cream feels good, like he has the skin of a baby now. you're being really sweet on him, he likes the way his muscles loosen up under your fingers.

"you're an angel." he says, a deep sound coming from his throat when you press a tight spot between his thumb and forefinger. "my fucking angel."

you smile, giving the same care to his other hand. james feels his hands go numb when you're finished. you clean the remnants of the cream on your hands before taking the mask off his face. "there you go." you put the used mask aside. "feels good?"

"i feel like a baby."

you laugh. "you're gonna be like a baby when i'm done."

it's a nice promise, james likes it very much. "i'm gonna apply some under eye cream now." you whisper. "you have no dark circles, i'm so jealous."

"it's because i actually have a sleeping schedule, lovely girl." he smiles. "something you lack, you know."

"hmm."

you massage his face a little bit before applying some moisturizer. you don't think any more products are needed for james, his skin is already perfect and the mask takes care of a lot of things. you want his face to be relaxed, so you keep your fingers on his cheeks. he smiles a lot, there are little lines on the corners of his lips and eyes that start forming. you can't help yourself, you kiss his lips softly. he immediately reacts but you pull yourself back, focusing on your work.

"what's the point of relaxing if i'm not gonna get a kiss?" james frowns.

"you'll get your kisses." you promise. "when i'm done."

applying moisturizer is so easy, his skin is glowing now. you make sure you cover every little spot on his face. "it smells good." he says. you nod even though his eyes are closed. "it really does." you say.

"and now," you put the cream away. "lip mask."

"lip mask?" james opens his eyes. "how will i kiss you if i have something on my lips?"

you laugh at his dramatics. "it never stopped you before. you always ruin my lipstick, remember?"

"not the same thing."

"come on, be a good boy for once." you tease. james parts his lips in shock. "once? this is a vile accusation."

you stop him, putting on a tiny bit of lip mask on his lips. he presses his lips together clumsily. "it tastes nice. is that strawberry?"

"you're not supposed to eat it!" you laugh. "leave some of it at least."

"mm, okay." he says. you fix his hair, and put a kiss on his cheek. you hand him the remote before leaving his lap. "i'm gonna bring you some cookies, can you pick a show?"

james nods, watches you clean up the mess through sleepy eyes. his skin has never felt this soft, he wants to pinch his own cheeks. he opens up the show you both like as he waits for you.

you come back with a plate full of cookies. james pulls you into his lap again. "i'm gonna eat just one." he says smugly. "i can't ruin my lip mask and i don't want crumbs on my face."

you laugh. "you're getting really good at this skincare thing."

"thanks to my angel." he says, he kisses your cheek three times. "i love you so much."

"i love you, too, baby." you say, your hand in his curls. "i can do it anytime you want."

"good, because i don't think i can go on without this anymore." he says like it's so obvious. "now, i remember i was promised kisses."

you settle down on his lap. "i don't wanna ruin your lip mask."

"it's not ruining, babe." he disagrees. "i'm willingly sharing my lip mask with you."

you laugh until your chest hurts.

[ddarker-dreams]

Worthy Motivator.

Blade x Reader.

Warnings: Typical Blade morbidity, Blade's slightly yan because I can never write him as Normal, and not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

Author notes are at the end of the story!

Washcloth in hand, you wipe away the perspiration clinging to your skin. 

While doing so, you squint, an act your reflection obediently mimics, confirming that yes; this disheveled figure is indeed you. You smooth out your hair, moisturize your face, then apply a light layer of toner. The process is completed in a timely fashion. A few hand motions made midair dim the bathroom’s lights.

Yawning, the door slides open at your behest, retreating into the wall like a turtle does its shell. The room is dome-shaped and customized to your liking. A light birch wood floor, pale pink walls, and windows showcasing scenery of a tulip field stretching on for miles. Windmills dot the distance, turning at their leisure. Gentle orange hues from two rising suns envelop the room in a cozy glow. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d believe you were actually on the planet Ethos, not traversing the cold, unforgiving space between galaxies.

While playing with the settings to change the time being depicted to twilight, it finally dawns on you that you’re not alone. 

Blazing eyes freeze you in place and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Blade,” you greet, wincing at how gracelessly the word rolls from your tongue, “I didn’t expect…” 

You cut yourself off, figuring that finishing the sentence will strengthen the bizarre atmosphere. What can be said, anyway? ‘Thanks for that,’ or ‘couldn’t have done it without you,’ maybe? Both options seem equally terrible. To make matters worse, he doesn’t explain why he’s stuck around. He continues to stand beside your nightstand, arms crossed over his chest, his lips drawn in a straight line. 

You’re the only one boasting signs of your previous tryst, the most obvious being your unsteady gait. Hoping to convey some decorum, you clasp your hands behind your back and straighten your posture. Surely, he’ll spill whatever’s on his mind and then make himself scarce. That’s been his modus operandi ever since this undefined relationship stumbled into existence. You tried not to take it personally. You’re both adults, if he doesn’t want to stick around for pillow talk, you won’t fault him for it. 

His eyes sear through your being. 

“You’re going to Illij.” 

You blink, thrown off by the flat delivery and the intentions it conceals. He’s either painfully blunt or cryptic in his word choice. It’d be nice if he could find a middle ground between both extremes, but that’s wishful thinking. 

With unusual impatience, he adds, “Alone.” 

Ah. 

A certain magenta-haired beauty’s previous words resurface in your mind. 

“—Alone? Not taking Bladie along for the ride?” she had tutted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.” 

You thought she was teasing, as she’s wont to do, yet your developing dilemma proves otherwise. That, or you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the truth in her words. 

Whilst shifting your weight from one foot to another, you meekly reply, “Kafka gave me permission.” 

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. 

“Permission, huh?” 

The condescension corrodes your former sheepishness. 

Placing a hand on your hips, you reply, “That’s the word I used, yes.” 

Your room pulsates with palpable tension. He stands to his full height — having been seated on your bed’s edge — sauntering over like a cat poised to pounce. You cross your arms over your chest as the distance shrinks. He’s yet to fully dress himself, wearing only his signature gray pants. His bare torso is marred with innumerable scars that vary in length and angle. Every time you both succumb to the heat of passion, his bandages occupy a new spot, depending on the circumstances of his latest battles. Presently, the cloth coils around his midsection and upper left arm. 

He’s close enough now for you to notice the latter unraveling. 

It isn’t anything logical that urges you forward. The sentiment resides deep in the recesses of your psyche, unsuccessfully shoved down by denial and trepidation. This formless substance takes shape as you meet him halfway. Blade towers over you. Given the massive gap in your abilities, you should fear him, but you know your pounding heart isn’t spurred by negative emotion. 

Much to his perplexity, you set aside the nascent quarrel, focusing your attention elsewhere. Nimble fingers resecure the rebellious cloth. 

“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” you mutter. “Honestly, what am I s’posed to do with you…?” 

It’s subtle, but this shift in tone relaxes his muscles. That is, until you admit: 

“I don’t like you being my bodyguard.”

Confusion contorts his countenance, then something more raw; something dangerously intimate. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt because of me,” you continue, lowering both your voice and head. “It’s… it’s awful and— and then— you don’t even care!” 

Hoping to avoid further humiliation, you stop there, taking deep breaths to prevent tears from flowing. This wasn’t the direction you wanted the evening to take. You wanted to take a bath, dip into a game Silver Wolf wouldn’t stop raving about, and then prepare for your imminent trip. The trip that’d put thousands of lightyears between you and a man whose blood spilled for your sake could rival an ocean. 

“I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve got Silv’s disguise software and she knows how to track me. So — I don’t know — take it easy, or something. You’ve got the month off.” 

His response is immediate. “I can’t.”

“Wh— did you not hear anything I just said?” you sputter. 

“I heard,” he confirms. He raises his hand to the bandage you rewrapped, as if trying to savor your lingering warmth. “When you’re gone, I cannot ‘take it easy.’” 

Blade uses your stupefaction to his advantage. He takes your much smaller hand into his and places it over his heart. It thumps at a slow, steady pace, like it hasn’t been obliterated and formed anew thousands of times. Your fingers twitch. His body, though colder than the average person’s, emits just enough warmth to indicate life. You feel the raised, textured skin that’s present above his every vital organ. It speaks of untold horrors; untold suffering. 

His chest rumbles as he says, “If I’ve no choice but to live… you’d make for a worthwhile reason.” 

You rest your forehead against his chest and squeeze your eyes shut. 

Kafka… are you sure it isn’t my feelings that’re in the most danger? 

A/N: owing to mental illness, aside from nexus, i devised another storyline for (slightly) less unhinged blade, this time with a stellaron hunter reader. while it has the material to make a series, i don't plan on starting up another multi-chaptered work until i make further progress into my current project 😭 still, i'm happy to talk about it if anyone's curious! here are some tidbits that give additional story context for this universe:

reader isn't super thrilled to be a stellaron hunter. a desperate situation ended in them joining the ranks. they're the emanator of the aeon of illumination, whose name i'm still undecided on. essentially, they're a 'consumer of stars,' capable of absorbing + storing well. you guessed it. stars. as you can imagine, this ability can provide immeasurable energy or devastation depending on its usage.

as a consequence, when reader's performing the sealing process, they're extremely vulnerable. it isn't exactly subtle, people tend to notice when their nearby sun is going cyaaaaaa ✌ and try to stop them. that's where bladie comes in. he kills anything and anyone that threatens them.

ethos is a pretty meadow planet that's known for harvesting clean energy (hydro, solar, wind) and using minimum technology. most of its inhabitants go their entire lives without ever seeing a computer. long distance communication is carried out through a dedicated fleet of carrier pigeons.

illij is a laissez-faire paradise. consumerism galore. ads projected in the night sky, ads projected in your dreams in certain low income areas where people can't afford space adblock™. it's a lot but sometimes reader appreciates the distraction.

[barefoothighlander]

sweet creature

summary: simon needs help with his hair

simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: yea full brainrot at the idea of simon being on leave and bleaching his hair even though no one sees it😭 just a lil one shot, not proofread

“What is that smell?” You scrunch your face as the scent wafts through the air, turning you attention from your book.

You follow it to the washroom, the smell growing stronger as you approach,

“Are you using that weird cleaning stuff again?” The question coming from you before your eyes land on Simon, his arms awkwardly contorted around his head as he applies product to his hair.

He catches your eyes in the mirror, huffing a small breathe, “Can’t reach the back”

“You’re dying your hair” It comes out as a statement, confusion written on your face.

“I always do”

“But this is like, really blonde”

“Think it’s bad?” He drops his arms, placing the small brush into a bowl on the counter.

You shake your head, moving closer to him, “Not bad just, different I guess”

“You don’t like it?”

“Haven’t seen it, just used to your darker hair”

You shift your gaze to the products on the counter, “S’alot of bleach Si”

“Not really a professional”

Smiling lightly you press your palms to his bare back, his muscles loosening under your touch as you lean in, pressing a small kiss to his lower shoulder.

“C’mere”

You nudge his body away from the mirror, turning him to sit near the edge of the tub, scooting the chair in the corner closer.

He sits, resting his back against it and drawing a heavy breath,

“You know what you’re doin love?”

“Nope, but it can’t be worse than you slapping bleach on your neck”

He parts his legs for you to stand between them, your body settling close to his as his hands hold at your waist, he tilts his head to look up at you before you use your hand to set it forward, a small laugh from his chest.

Painting the product on his hair and running it through the strands you apply a semi even layer of bleach to it.

Even sitting he’s tall, his head resting at the same height as your chest, your body having to contort around him as you reach to apply product, careful to avoid bleach on your shirt.

“Just take it off”

“Huh?”

“Your shirt”

“Oh”

Well it’s only logical, handing him the bowl you lift your shirt from your chest, tossing it to the side, leaning back over him.

“M’sorry don’t mean to hit you” Apologizing at his face comes into contact with the skin of your chest.

“More than happy to stay like this” His words are muffled against your skin, his lips pressed to your flesh as you work.

his hands grip your waist, tugging you closer to him as you reach for his shoulders, steadying yourself,

“Y’know I can’t work in these conditions” Scolding him as he presses light kisses to your exposed skin.

“Shame”

Your stomach tenses as you giggle, placing down the bowl and shifting your body to straddle his lap, his arms wrap around your back holding you as his dark eyes come into your sight.

“All done”

“Does it look alright?”

“Won’t know till we wash it out”

“Right”

He leans in to kiss you but you pull back, “You smell like chemicals”

“And in my time of need you deny me kisses?”

“Time of need?” You laugh

“Yes, I need them” Smiling as he closes the distance between you two, his lips pressed to yours as your hands settle on his chest, the thrum of his heart steady under your touch.

“Hand me that washcloth” You smile against his lips as he reaches for the small cloth, you run it along his skin, cleaning any mess of bleach from the flesh as he watches you.

“So why bleach it if no one sees”

“Just something I’ve always done”

“Does it have to do with being ghost, or being simon?”

“Simon”

You nod, “Much better” Wiping the newly clean skin with your thumb and settling back into his lap.

“How long does it stay on?”

“We’ll your hair was already blondish, just a little longer I think”

“All right”

“You bought toner right?”

“Toner?”

“Oh my god”

“What? Do I need that?”

“If you don’t want orange hair, yes”

“Orange?”

You bite back a small laugh as his eyes widen, “It’s fine, we’ll get some”

“I have to go out like this?”

“You wear a mask”

“But I’ll know”

You lightly push his face to the side laughing, he turns his head back to you with a smile, “C’mon, let’s rinse this”

You push off him, standing in front of his body as you turn the shower on, grabbing the smaller handle and letting the water run over his hair.

“Christ!”

“What? Did it get in your eyes? Are you okay?”

“S’cold” He looks up at you as you scoff, twisting the shower head to let some water hit his body, “Hey woah”

“Stop being a baby”

“A baby?”

You rinse the bleach from his hair with your hands as he reaches up, grabbing it from you and turning it on you, effectively drenching you in water as you yelp.

“Simon!”

He just laughs in response as you reach for the shower head, throwing it into the tub and turning it off, staring at him as water drops fall from your skin, forming a puddle beneath your feet.

“Totally not cool”

“Hey paybacks a bitch”

“Yeah? Tell that to your orange hair”

“Oi wait, c’mon you can’t let me walk around like that”

“Can’t I?”

“Please love, m’sorry” His apology comes through his laughs, his arms reaching for you, tugging your hips closer as he pulls you onto his lap, reaching for another kiss.

You oblige, connecting your lips again as his hands run over your wet skin, “C’mon dry off”

You reach for the stack of towels beside you, tossing one to him before drying your own body, throwing it on the hook, “I’m gonna change, then we’ll go to the shop”

He nods in response, standing from his chair and stretching his back before glancing at himself in the mirror, worried eyes staring back as the less than blonde hair on his head comes into view, running a hand through it and huffing a breath.

“Promise this toner stuff will fix it?”

“I make no promises” You yell from the bedroom

“S’not what I want to hear”

He meets you in the room, pulling off his wet pants to change into dry clothes as you tug one his shirts onto you.

“Okay, ready?”

He rugs his mask over his face, covering his hair as he nods, “Let’s go fix this” he says, gesturing to his head before slicing an arm around your shoulder and walking through the door by your side.

[shitsndgiggs]

Hi!! Could you make a fic of Hector interested in your skincare routine and you teaching him and explaining everything to him? 🙏

SKINCARE - HÉCTOR FORT

Doing skincare with Héctor

Héctor Fort x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The bathroom was softly illuminated, the warm light creating a tranquil environment. I was in the middle of my nightly skincare routine, my face covered in a green face mask that felt soothing and cooling.

As I prepared to rinse it off, Hector walked in, his curiosity piqued.

“Hey,” Hector said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe. “You look like you’re ready for a spa day.”

I laughed, adjusting the mask slightly. “Just doing my skincare routine. It’s my favorite way to wind down.”

Hector stepped closer, intrigued. “Mind if I watch?”

“Not at all,” I replied, finishing up with the mask and rinsing it off. “You might even enjoy it. It’s pretty relaxing.”

I dried my face and reached for the toner, dabbing it onto a cotton pad. Hector watched intently as I applied it, his eyes following my every move.

“So, what’s the deal with all these products?” Hector asked, genuinely interested. “Do they all have a special purpose?”

“Yeah, each one does something different,” I explained as I gently patted the toner onto my face. “They work together to keep my skin healthy and balanced.”

Hector nodded, still watching as I moved on to the serum. “And this one?”

“This is serum,” I said, applying a few drops to my face. “It’s like a concentrated boost for your skin, targeting specific concerns.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sounds fancy. And then you finish up with moisturizer?”

“Exactly,” I said, reaching for the moisturizer. “It locks everything in and keeps my skin soft and hydrated.”

Once I finished my routine, I turned to Hector with a mischievous smile. “How about I give you a little skincare treatment too? You’ve been so curious.”

Hector’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? Okay!.”

I patted the toilet seat, inviting him to sit down. Hector took a seat, and I stood between his legs, feeling the comforting closeness.

I began by applying a gentle cleanser to his face, using soft, circular motions.

Hector closed his eyes, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. “This feels amazing,” he murmured. “I could get used to this.”

I chuckled softly as I continued to massage the cleanser into his skin. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I’ll make sure to give you the full experience.”

After rinsing off the cleanser, I reached for the toner. I poured a small amount onto a cotton pad and gently swiped it across his face. Hector’s expression was one of pure contentment, his eyes still closed.

I applied the serum with care, gently patting it into his skin. Hector’s breathing grew slower, his body relaxing completely as I worked. His head tilted slightly back, and I could tell he was on the verge of drifting off.

“You’re so relaxed,” I said softly, brushing a stray hair away from his face. “It’s nice to see you like this.”

Hector let out a contented sigh. “It’s like a mini spa day. I’m almost falling asleep.”

I smiled, continuing to work the serum into his skin. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Almost done with the routine.”

Finally, I reached for the moisturizer. I scooped out a small amount and began to apply it, gently massaging it into his skin. Hector’s eyes remained closed, his expression one of pure bliss.

“This is the best,” Hector murmured. “You’re a skincare expert.”

I laughed softly, finishing up with the moisturizer. “Thanks. I’m just glad you’re enjoying it.”

I stepped back, looking at his relaxed face with a satisfied smile. “All done. How do you feel?”

Hector slowly opened his eyes, a dreamy smile on his face. “Amazing. I think I could fall asleep right here.”

I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make this a regular thing.”

Hector grinned, his eyes twinkling with happiness. “I’d like that.”

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

How they react to you having a thorough night skin care routine.

[ because my partner has a thorough night skincare routine and it blows me away every time I see them do it. ]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Luffy

•He comes and goes constantly. If it takes longer than five minutes, his attention is gone. He'll come back in a few minutes to see if you're done. If you aren't? Gone again. And then back again. This time with snacks.

( He will feed you. )

•HOWEVER, if you offer to do it on HIM? He's sitting on the edge of the tub excitedly. Asks to smell everything first. But he'll sit, head tilted back, and let you wash his face, then prep his skin, and put on a mask, and remove the mask, and put on moisturizer…

•Is amazed at how soft his skin feels the next morning. Asks if you can do that “weird skin magic stuff” again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Zoro

•Does not care. I'm so sorry, y'all, this man does not give a flying fuck.

•He'll wash his face and leave. You are on your own. No, you can't put anything on his face. ( He has oddly reactive skin to certain creams?? Sir why is your body like This. )

•He'll go on to your bedroom while you do your routine. ( which is sort of nice. You can hear him fixing the bed. )

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Nami

•Will join you, no hesitation. She has her own routine, so why don't you two just combine them? Do them together!

•She'll help pin your hair back when it gets in the way of your mask. She'll ask for help with her bangs, too.

•Wants to trade tips. (“LUKEwarm water, not hot! Not cold, either! LUKE WARM.”)

•She'll laugh if a sheet mask doesn't fit right on either of you.

•Is the type to sit on the toilet lid and paint her nails while her mask sits. She'll do yours for you, too.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Usopp

•Oh my god he is so excited. He's into hair care himself, so this is right up his alley. Happily sets up the bathroom for you before you even come in.

•He'll let you do your routine on him, too. Just like Luffy, he'll ask to smell everything.

•He has a few items of his own? A few good face washes, toners, and moisturizers.

•He's just happy to spend this time with you, really. Cannot stop looking at you when you aren't paying attention.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sanji

•Have you seen his skin? He takes ridiculous care of it. ( It's a North Blue thing. They all have such good skin… )

•He'll gladly join you. He does his big routine in the mornings; at night, it's a only a few small things aside from washing.

•He'll apply things for you, even. Make you sit down and relax, it's what you deserve! Let him spoil you, chér.

•He'll light candles. Make it nice and a little romantic.

[ashasdiary]

Glass Skin Gojo

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader Synopsis: you talk skincare with Gojo. Contains: fluff, crack, ⚠️use of 5 in 1 shampoo⚠️, sexual themes WC: 555 A/N: Anyone know where I can get a Gojo Satoru special?

“This is not fair,” you huff as you stand between his legs and inspect his face. There was not one pore in sight. “What products do you use, hm? Tell me your secrets right now.”

He chuckles and gives you a smug grin, “I use the 5 in 1 thing. Can’t remember the brand. But it’s convenient and it works for—”

He was interrupted by your scream of horror at the unveiling of this information. “Why would you do that?! Oh my goodness, I have so much to teach you.”

He blinks at you, wide eyed, but then your last sentence registers in his mind and he smirks, reaching over to caress your outer thigh. “Oh yeah? You gonna teach me some things, are you? I’d quite like that…”

“Satoru!” You chide him, trying to stay serious but the corner of your lips curl into a smile; you look away so that he doesn’t see, which makes him laugh, because he obviously did.

“Anyway, you have to use a cleanser, not one that’s too stripping on the skin. You can keep it simple with 3 steps, since your skin is so good, I don’t think you even need to use a toner, to be honest…” you sigh as your gaze darts around his perfect face as you continue to inspect his perfect skin.

Your voice quietens a little as if you’re speaking to yourself now, “but toning is good, it makes the skin ready for moisturiser. Then again, you don’t freaking need it because it’s so plump and flawless already,” you poke his cheek and his brows raise a little as he keeps staring at you in awe.

All the while you continue on, “as I was saying, I think you can just do a cleanser, moisturiser, and then a sunscreen, the latter of which is the most important especially for you because you’re floating up in the air and getting close to the sun’s UV rays — actually, wait, does infinity stop UV rays? I know rain doesn’t touch you but… oh, you lucky bastard,” you whine, and he lets out a hearty laugh at your reaction.

“Never mind. Just continue to use your 5 in 1 shampoo and I will be here. Suffering. With my 8 step skincare routine just to make my skin half as pretty as yours,” you huff and cross your arms and he chuckles softly, both his hands cupping the back of your thighs and guiding your legs up over his so that you could sit on his lap.

He pushes your hair behind your ear and cups your jaw, gazing at you lovingly, “Baby, you’re so damn beautiful even without all of that skincare stuff, I promise you. But contrary to popular belief, I actually know a few things about skincare! I heard there was a new brand that uh…released a new moisturiser. I know you’re going to want to try it. It’s the best kind there is.”

There was a playful look in his eyes, you noted, but this was nothing out of the ordinary. “Really? What’s the brand called, where do I get it?”

He gave you the most shit eating grin as he took your hand and pressed it to his groin, “It’s called the Gojo Satoru Special and you can get it right here.”

~

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

[arminsumi]

i’ve had this dumb idea in my head for weeks where you really wanna dye ur hair blonde so you ask gojo what toner he uses to get his hair so perfectly white & how many times a month he has to bleach his roots and he’s like 🤨 wtf do u mean? and then he shows you his eyes for the first time and you see his white eyelashes and ur like HUH?

if this request is dumb don’t worry abt writing it 😭

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱

GOJO x gn.reader

A/N: I THOUGHT ABT THIS REQ ALL DAY and just gave in and wrote it at 1 am instead of sleeping lol😭❤️ tysm anon bb i love ur mind

Wc: >700

Content; cheesy-ish fluff

Warnings; some flirting, nickname sweetheart used, a little suggestive at the end

arminsumi's library

He was in his office, making it seem like he was dedicated to his hard work by shuffling around important-looking documents across his desk. He totally wasn't doing a crossword puzzle out of boredom. He totally wasn't ecstatic to see his favorite student stop by his office.

"Gojo!"

"Nuh-uh, address me properly, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes, not realizing that he could see right through that silken black fabric wrapped around his head. But because you were his favorite, he let your cute little eyeroll slide.

"Gojo-sensei." you corrected.

"Mmm?" he hummed as if to ask: what is it?

"So, I wanna dye my hair — and before I do, I wanna talk to you about it."

Awww, that flattered him so much. His heart lurched. "Oh? What color?"

"Blond — maybe platinum."

He imagined it for a moment, then replied. "Blond would look good on you, but I like your hair as it is..."

"Yeah yeah!" you waved dismissively at his compliment, not registering it as such. "so, what toner should I use?"

"Uhhh — I don't know?"

"Well what toner do you use? Your hair always looks pristinely white, seems like you know how to maintain the color right. Does it cost a lot? And, can bleaching make my hair fall out? Oh, do you use special shampoos too? And, how often do you have to bleach your roots?"

Through this flood of confusing questions that you dumped on him all at once, his face just said... what are you on about lol

"I don't dye my hair..."

"What...?"

He let out a little chuckle.

"Come here. Lemme show you something."

You confusedly drew closer to where he sat with his one leg crossed over the other. The noon light illuminated the drifting dust behind him, backlighting his fluffy mess of hair.

"Closer, closer — don't be shy now." he encouraged with a playful sultriness.

This was definitely the closest you had been to him. Excepting that one time he engulfed you in a welcome-back hug at the airport.

"Lift my blindfold up." he commanded simply.

"What?" You blushed. You blushed WILDLY.

He chuckled as if he was a cheeky high school boy playing a prank.

"Just lift it up."

So you slowly — very slowly — slipped a timid finger under his blindfold, your skin feeling ignited as it glided across the soft, warm skin of his cheekbones.

Taking his blindfold off felt like... well, it's an inappropriate comparison, but it felt like you were undressing him. He could feel your energy flowing more turbulently — ahem, in other words, he could feel you getting more nervous because of this situation that he threw you into.

It was laughable how dramatically everything stopped when you peeled up his blindfold.

Blue. No, an infinite blue. You felt like you fell into his irises. Oh... and also, you noticed... white lashes and white brow hairs. Huh.

"Woah... woah that's..."

"All natural, baby." he grinned like a jackass.

It was hard to form a coherent thought because of those eyes.

"I see... so... 'guess I'll just go ask someone else about toner and stuff." you said laughingly.

"Mhm."

You had a question on the tip of your tongue. One obvious and stupid, but you surprisingly hadn't asked it before.

"Can you see through your blindfold...?"

"Obviously. You didn't know that?" He chuckled.

You felt your cheeks sear with blush. The heat reached your jawline and ears. That was so embarrassing for some reason.

"I'm so sorry about the eyerolls."

"I'll let it slide, 'cause you're my favorite student." he winked.

Whatever mush was left of your brain completely evaporated when he winked at you. Your teacher just giggled like a cheeky teenager and lowered his blindfold again.

When you were about to leave his office for the store before closing time, you stopped at the door and looked back at him.

"So... wait a minute..."

"Hm?" he hummed.

"If you can see through your blindfold... then can you see through my — never mind!"

You stopped mid sentence and scampered away like a mouse. Gojo just roared with a hearty laugh and lightly blushed. He never did answer that question.

[slvttyplum]

Hii, can you add onto your sleeping hdcs of the JJK men and write about their night routines and what they usually wear to bed?

Also I am obsessed with how you write the JJK men and how you describe the reader!

₊˚⊹⋆ jjk men and their night routines!

thank you! your wish is my command.

also trying out a new format.

nanami

he’s a simple man.

goes to take a quick shower after work, washes his face for extra clarity in the sink, then head to pillow.

once he’s on that bed he’s passing out, you’ll be lucky to get a kiss out of him.

he wears a plain white tee and some old sweatpants.

satoru

surprisingly doesn’t have a skincare routine or anything

he washes up in the sink when he’s feeling lazy and just uses your face wash

you scold him for it but he’s defiant, he claims that’s what makes his skin smooth and glowy

very false, man just has good genes

he’s either in a plain shirt and sweats or just fully naked, no in between.

suguru

has a three step face routine, how do you think he looks so good?

just a basic foam wash, toner and moisturizer

also HAS to do a weekly hair mask and brush through it for a couple of mintues.

you do it for him sometimes, too much of a hassle to do it every night.

he wears sweats and a wife beater or shirt

choso

this man will come home from a long night and get into bed

no washing of his face or anything

the days he does shower he doesn’t really focus on his face

throws water on it and calls it a day

he’s for sure sleeping naked

cannot stand anything clinging onto him for too long

(i think that’s why he wears baggy clothing.)

toji

he’ll wash sometimes before going to bed but most of the time no.

uses your body wash and slaps on your face wash and doesn’t care.

hair wash day is his favorite though actually.

uses a lot of it actually and you curse him out.

wears nothing to bed, down to his boxers and barely that.

would sleep butt ass naked if he could, but you won’t allow it.

higuruma

has a classy two step routine, nothing too fancy.

the both of you share the same face wash, surprisingly lasts a long time between the both of you.

puts on eye cream then heads to bed.

wears a shirt and boxers, nice.

[luna-the-moth]

Styling Deuce's hair has awaken something in me :)

Just hear me out...Deuce tries so hard to remember + take part in your self care stuff. He has a whole note section on his phone dedicated to what kind of face cleanser you use, the type of face cream you are picky about, what eye mask branch you like, any makeup you like, nail care oils, etc. He doesn't quite understand feminine care, but he tries hard for you! Also asks his mother about the different types of face toner, cleanser, serum, jade roller, etc. Oddly, but genuinely, finds face masks relaxing. Boy studies a lot, he needs it!

YESSSSS deuce is sooo boyfriend coded and him being invested in your self care routine is the cherry on top <33

SFW, GN! reader but mildly spicy at the end for my fellow period-havers lol

he has photos of all of your cosmetics and whatnot in a folder on his phone in case you ever ask him to pick up refills from the store <3 tbh the first time u take him into the beauty section/a beauty store he's in awe at the variety but also gagged at the prices LMAOO. he did Not know that snail secretion was a thing that can be good for ur skin but he does now ! definitely will be like a lost puppy at first but he's got the spirit! if he notices a product similar to one you use that's at a better value he'll bring it to you and ask your thoughts on it <3

but also if u have sensitive skin he's so sweet about it , , , sending you magicam reels about new products for sensitive skin that might suit you , , , sending you photos of fragrance-free lotions and moisturizers if you mention you want to branch out and try new ones , , , making sure you don't run out of the lotion you rely on , , ,

also i hc he has skin with minimal acne but it's a bit Dry and he has a bad habit of scratching at it here and there using more hydrating products will be a huge help!! also he does enjoy a skincare regimen a Lot once you've introduced it to him bc he enjoys feeling his best and it wakes him up nicely in the morning!

self care nights Will be a thing once u bring them up . generally i hc deuce prefers the milder, cleaner scents for his skin (cucumber, honey, etc) and avoids things like heavy florals/heavier scents in general (orange, rose, etc) simply bc they overwhelm him a bit and his skin's a tad sensitive :( but he does enjoy face masks like you mentioned- they make him feel refreshed and pampered <33

and if you want to do your nails he likes to watch you paint your nails <3 deuce isn't a gossipy bitch but he LIVESSS for spilling tea over painted nails and drinks , , , will ask you to do clear coats on his nails or solid dark blue on his nails but if you want to experiment who is he to say no , , , he can't deny his partner if they want to treat him and put so much care into him , , (just no acrylics or extensions pls they feel so heavy and they Will break by accident within 24 hours) , , , also gets sooo lovesick if you ever wear dark blue on your nails because they remind you of him , ,, hes such a sentimental loverboy i love him .

if you're someone who has periods he has a period tracker on his phone 100%. puts in little reminders on his calendar to get your favorite snacks/charge up the heating blanket the day before it start , , , he would get you a heated waterbottle too if you asked and it'd have little chicks on it too , , , also eats you out like a man starved on ur period if ur into that . he didn't think about it before but now...

thank you for sending in this ask i did Not realize how much self care/cosmetics mean to me in terms of love aksdihf. PLEASE feel free to send asks if you would like to hear my thoughts on the other boys/more detail on deuce re: self care <3

[aloysiavirgata]

Fisher King prompt: dark crescendoing to light. Daniel Waterson and his baggage come back into her now-married life; maybe by way of the autopsy table. A dark case comes across Mulder’s desk. You pick. A happy surprise at the end to bring them both out of it?

Thanks, lady.

It is the dead nurse that catches his attention. Two days back from his honeymoon, attaboys and filthy jokes and cigars and a stack of manila folders on his dust-rimed desk.

Pendrell whistles when he sees Mulder, makes a predictable playing-doctor joke. He leers as though it obscures the soulful puppy wetness of his face. As though he hasn’t noticed Dana at crime scenes before, the autumn bonfire of her hair. Her tourmaline eyes.

Mulder thumbs the band on his left ring finger, spins it a little in the cool morning light. Flips them all off with good-natured grouchiness as he makes his way to the elevator. He thinks it might be fun to be an old man, to listen to the slap of his bedroom slippers on the grocery store linoleum.

The air in his office smells like cardboard boxes, like ghosts of lo mein and forgotten pizza. Copier toner. Pencil shavings.

His wife says, “Honestly, Mulder,” and makes chicken sandwiches from dinner leftovers, makes him salads with salmon and almonds and avocados and says he needs to gain eight pounds. He’s taken to her demands like a stray cat adjusting to life indoors. He’s growing glossy and sleek, full of essential amino acids.

Full of life.

***

There is no congestion in any of the organs. No petechiae in her eyes, no blood clots in the fragile slices of brain. Lips, mouth, esophagus free of corrosion, not an aneurysm the size of a poppy seed. The bruises and claw marks on her gray throat are her own doing. There are over a dozen witnesses.

Her nails are clotted with her own crumpled skin.

Dana pokes her finger into the aorta, sniffs the dead, butcher-shop air of Ludovica’s mouth. She prods at the lungs and hunts for lesions and surfactant. The nurse’s stomach contains a half-digested bagel and tuna salad. The muscular walls are in the very pink of health. She has lungs like freshly chewed bubblegum.

Dana huffs a strand of hair off her lip. She does not want to call him.

***

“What killed her?” Mulder asks, around a mouthful leftover quiche. God it’s good. She caramelized the onions, used two semesters of organic chemistry on the pastry and can declaim on the Maillard Reaction in a voice fit for Showtime.

“I’m working on it,” his wife says, brisk. “Thus far it seems to be nothing, which is a bit of a problem, medically speaking.”

“How embarrassing,” Mulder says, hunting around for another chunk of broccoli. “To die of nothing. You talk to this Waterston chappie yet?

Silence.

“Dr. Scully?”

A sigh.

Mulder’s brow furrows. “Dana Katherine, what gives?”

She sighs again. “You remember that med school professor I told you about? Funny story…”

***

He gazes at her the way tourists gawp at the Mona Lisa; not with a particular appreciation, just a bit awed that they can check it off their bucket lists.

Twice, for Daniel. A certain chumminess. A hint of inside jokes and favorite restaurants and that-lovely-inn-we-stayed-at. Of possessiveness. Territoriality.

Mulder shakes his head, just a twitch. Just enough to clear Daniel’s smug carnal knowledge of his wife away. Mulder’s fucked people’s daughters as well. People’s wives. There was one at Oxford, Honora, her husband a full professor and he -

Mulder doesn’t say this. He doesn’t say anything as Daniel stares at his Rossetti wife, undoubtedly thinks about the determined twitch of her twenty-one year old ponytail and her scuffed Keds and her slipshod Navy brat graces and her body like Artemis bathing by moonlight.

But Daniel’s alone and Mulder isn’t.

Dana isn’t alone either because, against all reason and karma, she’s married him, married Fox Mulder, like it was an absolutely sane thing to do, and her family simply went along with it.

“Tell me what you saw,” says Mulder, with the gentle absolution of a priest. “No judgement here,” he lies. She was hardly more than a girl, she was an innocent, she trusted you, you fucking asshole, you predator, you-

Daniel looks at Dana. Looks down at his surgeon’s hands. No ring on any of his fingers.

Daniel closes his eyes and looks at nothing.

“We began a midline sternotomy, absolutely routine, Suddenly Ludovica - Nurse Giordano - grabbed her throat and said she couldn’t breathe. She…she screamed Diavola! Said there was sulfur, said it was mustard gas, but none of the rest of us smelled a damn thing. But she was thrashing on the floor of the OR and our patient was-“

He looks around then, catches Dana’s eye, shyness in his expression. Shyness in his fatherly face. Dana had looked up at it for approval, no doubt. In what she probably thought was passion. Maybe even love.

Dana nods encouragingly and Mulder feels it then, the weight of years. He understands in that moment that time really is the fourth dimension; that it has a hot, heavy plasticity into which you can sink. He understands the realness of an event horizon, that they are all being pulled towards the unfinished thing between Daniel and his wife, Ludovica Giordano’s corpse included.

His wife was a physics major, his wife rewrote Einstein with the ebullient narcissism of the young.

He understands that his wife and Daniel speak the same primal, arcane language of science. He is a lowly psychologist, the major you pick when you can’t get into dental school but still want to Help Others.

Kepler’s Third Law tells us that intensity equals the inverse of the square of the distance from the source.

And he’s brought Daniel back into her orbit.

***

“I can’t believe you fucked him,” Mulder gasps into her tender seashell ear. An inch from her extraordinary brain.

“I was a child,” she hisses back. “Essentially. Don’t stop, Christ, don’t - I was a child, I-“

She was, she was, she was Eos newly born, she was radiant and young, she was Persephone to Daniel’s Hades, she was fresh milk at Ostara, and a sunrise over the Atlantic.

“Did you love him?”

Her thighs so taut and pale and quivering. Her wedding dress, her misty veil. Her palimpsest skin, on which he can rewrite himself.

“I thought I did but but it wasn’t this, it was never this, it was never you, I-“

Mulder comes in her, groaning, feels the tiniest sting of shame at how good it is to reclaim her from this other man.

***

“Dana,” Daniel says, heavy-tongued for Mulder’s consecrated, Catholic wife. He is hard; he shifts in the uncomfortable chair.

Mulder knows and Dana knows and the air is thick with this knowledge but strangely not unpleasant. The air is July just before a thunderstorm. The air is dense and verging. Primal, fecund, cataclysmic.

Hot.

Green.

Alive.

The air tastes like a 9-volt battery. He wants to put a baby into his wife.

“You were there,” Mulder says, his buckskin hands woven and laced. “What did you see?”

Daniel looks at Dana, Daniel is here for Dana, because he believes she is cold and lonely and alone in the way of the outer planets. He still thinks only he can warm her.

(He doesn’t know, Daniel, not really, that there is a solid core beneath the icy mist.)

She’s too distant and abstruse and Daniel doesn’t know.

***

Daniel smirks at Mulder, this old man who felt briefly alive in the hot juncture of his wife’s thighs; smirks as though he’s done anything real at all. They view the human heart so differently, he and Daniel.

Dana - Dr. Scully - rests her palms against her sharp tweed knee. She only wants to know what stops any human heart from beating. What shuts the brain down, from prefrontal cortex in a cascade to the lowly lizard stem.

“What did you see, Daniel?” She is poised and tensed. She is waiting. She is untouchable.

Mulder - Fox - is disarmed by the chill of her haughty face. Her Plutonian eyes are so very, very cold . So very, very far.

Ice could never be so warm.

***

“‘Maggie,” he breathes, into her amber light. Into her aura, in her husband’s office, after Mulder went out for their lunch order.

“No,” Dana says. “I don’t care. Tell me about the nurse.”

Daniel huffs. “I don’t know, it was nothing, Dana, Maggie said-“

“I don’t care,” Dana says, crisp. “I don’t care about your daughter. You certainly didn’t, when you brought me to your bed.

Daniel is appalled. “Dana, you were-“

“I know what I was,” she replies. “I knew what I was doing and I don’t regret it, not really. But I didn’t understand what you were, not then. And you should regret me, Daniel.”

He looks at her, his brows drawn.

He looks away, back through the years. Dana, all sharpened Ticonderogas and her mouth an unplucked apricot. Skin like fresh-churned butter.

“She was…she was gasping,” he says to the wall of of clippings. To the Flatwoods Monster and wendigos and little lost girls and stills from the Zapruder Footage. “She was clawing at her throat, she…diavola.”

Diavola.

Daniel looks at the ceiling. “She clawed her throat to ribbons,” he says. “She said our patient was full of demons, she said…” He shakes his head and looks at Dana again.

Dana knows. Dana has seen. Has read and wondered and wondered, considered the Gerasene demoniac in the synoptic gospels. Tooms at her belly on the chilly tile of her bathroom…

It will do no good. Whatever her husband says, the truth is not always a panacea. The patient has lived and Ludovica has died and all anyone wants is official paper with Dana’s name at the bottom.

A reckoning, now. A choice.

“Anaphylaxis?” Dana murmurs, in the perfume and cashmere of a different rich man’s wife. She puts a little throatiness in her voice now, like she did after Dr. Waterston spoke to her in private about Starling’s Law. She can give him this. She can give Ludovica’s family this.

Diavola.

Mulder is right, Mulder is almost always right. But Mulder is right in his own time and Ludovica’s family needs her home.

Daniel catches the lifeline she throws, grateful.

Humbled.

Daniel, when his gaze returns, is a bit smaller in her eyes. “Yes,” he says. “It must have been.”

***

They’re eating dinner at the Peruvian chicken place on the corner because Dana is hollow and Mulder has moderately weaponized his own culinary incompetence.

“Ansel died today,” she says, poking at her rice.

Mulder nearly chokes on a mouthful of black beans. “What?!”

“Died. Massive coronary at his desk. Dead within seconds.”

Mulder gapes. Ansel Jordan, Chief Medical Examiner in DC; the alpha and omega of the unexpectedly dead in the District. “He ran marathons.”

Dana nods into the middle distance. “He ran marathons. He had a treadmill in his office. He was 57 and he was my boss and I split his chest apart with a Stryker before his body had even cooled this morning. My god, I forgot what warm tissue feels like.”

She looks up with her wide, delphinium eyes. “They asked me, Mulder.”

They asked? He is appalled. “They asked you to autopsy him? That’s really fu-“

She shakes her head. “No, nobody asked me that. No one would ever. I volunteered, it was the right thing to do, for my colleagues. For Ansel. We were hardly close but I had tremendous respect for the man.”

Ansel was a runner. He ate well and drank in moderation. He cared for his body like a classic car; starting to slow down but with lots of miles left.

The human body is strange and unpredictable.

“Are you okay?” How do you cut open a man you know? He cannot believe she didn’t call this morning but also of course she didn’t call this morning. She is an eternal riddle, a beautiful enigma.

“I’m surprisingly fine,” she says. “I mean, it’s horrible and pointless and tragic. But the process of an autopsy…it soothed me. I knew what to do and there was a…a checklist.”

He smiles, soft. “You’re always a doctor first.”

Dana shrugs, fluid and dismissive. “I guess.”

He realizes then, awed. Adoring. “They want you to… to step in, to be Chief. Dana, that’s incredible, that’s a huge honor. I’m sorry it’s come at the cost of Ansel, but Christ. It’s tremendous.”

He will never achieve this in his own career and is delighted that she can.

Dana nods slowly, a blush creeping up her fine, pale cheeks. She spears a plantain and examines it on the end of her fork. “It’s obviously not a formal offer yet, my god, he’s only just been released to the family, but yes. It’s tremendous.” She bites into the plantain.

He thinks back to that feeling of wanting a baby, wanting her to have it, and knows that the new Chief Medical Examiner of DC will have other pressures, other concerns.

She’s expressed interest in babies in a vague sort of way, but doesn’t want them like he does. Dana grew up with hand-me-downs and home haircuts and spaghetti the last week of every month. She knows that babies grow into scraped-kneed children who need lunch money and trombones and French tutors and football uniforms.

He’s rich enough for it all, for night nurses and nannies, but he knows her body is not a rental property. He wants a baby, he does, but he also doesn’t care if it means this for her. He doesn’t care if her star can rise.

“I love you,” he says, raising his plastic cup of horchata. “And I’m so goddamn sorry about Ansel.”

She lifts hers back, his wife, her old-master face and her slapdash smile. “Thank you,” she says, still pained. “And slaínte.”

“L’chaim,” he replies. To life.

[foreverisntenough]

A cute blurb idea, teddy seeing her mom taking a wig off for the first time and being scared. Or trent doing his skin care routine and teddy is watching and getting upset. Trent is confused to why teddy is upset so he calls y/n who laughs and tells him the ladies have a skincare routine themselves and teddy is upset because trent isn't pampering her too. Teddy skincare routine could be like when y/n uses a makeup wipe, she uses a baby wipe on teddy or something.

I love this! Omg the hair! I can’t 😂 idk why I just imagine Teddy having looser curls but idk it’s besides the fact! Anyways this was so cute 🥺 like perfect dad Trent op.

I hope you like it 🥰

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

‘Pretty’ - 990 words |

↳ Trent isn’t doing his skincare the way you do and your daughter, Teddy isn’t having it.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

“Dada! Doing wrong. Stop!” Teddy whined sitting on the counter of your bathroom kicking her feet gingerly as Trent washed his face, dried it, and began to concluding his entire routine picking one singular product after to moisturize. Truly, it is unfair the genetics he got to have perfect skin with such minimal effort. “Not like mama, dada! Stop!” She yelped shuffling on the counter reaching her hands up to grab at him.

“What, baby? What does mama do that I’m not? I’m doing what dada does. That okay or no?” Trent laughed very confused because despite his minimal routine you had very early on in the relationship gotten him good products specific for him that were quality and it was approved but apparently not so much to Teddy. On the odd chance Teddy didn’t inherit his genes for perfect skin you wanted to make sure that it was something she enjoyed and she thought was a fun so more often than not you’d have her sit with you and do your skincare routine with you. It was a nice time for the two of you to spend alone together and work on affirmations and self love as well that you needed to learn just as much as she did.

“Is wrong, dada!” She yelled grabbing for his hand to put down the very evidently clear male facial cream he’d picked up. That was not what her or more specifically you used and therefore it was wrong. “Need to make pwetty like mama and me, tay?” Teddy chirped on wiggling herself back more on the big countertop to look for your things.

“Oh okay. Sorry I didn’t know. Can you show me then or should I call mama and ask?” Trent continued to laugh a little because it was funny to watch Teddy give him such a judgmental scowl over ‘skincare’ that wasn’t all that different from the one you had given him when you first saw his original ‘routine’ if you could even call it that.

“Here dada, wash pleabs!” Teddy cooed handing him a face wash she knew was the first step. She didn’t read the name on the bottle per se but she knew that was the first one. She knew that because you’d always ask her to reach it for her first thing.

“Ahh okay. Alright, gimme, baby.” Trent reached out to her to grab it. “And you promise this will make daddy pretty like you and mummy because that’s all tall order.” He gave her a wink.

“Yeah, like mama.” She giggled as Trent went to grab the bottle from her tiny hand but Teddy snatched it back holding it tight to her chest quicker. “Wait! Wait! I blue… you pink, tay, dada?” She looked around curiously for something. Trent raised his brow confused what she was talking about. Teddy gestured to her head and pushed her little curls back with her hands. Trent hummed understanding that she was looking for the headband you always used. You usually wore the blue which was cute that Teddy now wanted to have that color.

“All good?” Trent cooed after he had grabbed the headbands out from a drawer of yours, putting one on her, allowing for her adorable face to be more on display. Trent did so after her. Teddy naturally laughed at him in the pink headband. She got through a few steps like ‘wash,’ ‘rounds’ meaning a toner pad you had which Trent did not enjoy but knew was ultimately fine as you had made him use one before, ‘goo’ was her word for serums which always made you laugh the same way it just had Trent, and concluding with ‘losh’ her word for moisturizer but as you had been able to explain it to her, lotion but then she paused in a panic.

“Don’t knows next…” She quivered. Her eyes pooling like a puppy’s, her identical pout to his rolling into a sad frown. Her eyes welled before she broke into tears.

“Baby bear… that’s okay. You did so good, beautiful. Look, doesn’t daddy look pretty now?” He cooed and she shook her head ‘no’ and Trent tried not to be offended. “Okay, you think there’s more to be done? Let’s call mama, okay? We can ask her.” He softly spoke to her, wiping her falling tears. He kissed her forehead a few times before grabbing his phone. He FaceTimed you and sat himself on an ottoman in the en suite. He plopped Teddy on his lap and wrapped his arms around her, holding the phone out in front of them.

“Hi mummy! Don’t I look so pretty?” Trent cooed with a cheeky grin that made your heart break. You assessed the situation quickly. A tearful Teddy, a goofy Trent, and two skincare headbands you knew well. You hummed with a smile. “Ted is teaching me how to get pretty like her and mummy so she has a question for you.” Trent spoke to you before pushing a kiss to Teddy’s cheek in encouragement.

“Mama, next after losh?” Teddy sadly sniffled, grabbing the phone for herself. She adjusted her position in Trent’s lap, leaning her face against his strong bicep, squishing her plump cheek into his muscle.

“That’s it, Teddy girl! All done! Good memory, baby… Daddy looks so pretty now.” You started to laugh. Trent shook his head at you. It was really sweet. You definitely had more steps post moisturizer you could’ve tacked on for him but for her, you just wanted her to smile. That beautiful smile started to grow after your confirmation.

“See, baby bear. Gotta believe in yourself. I knew you made me look prettier than mummy.” Trent cooed with a wink to you. You bit your lip as your heart ached a little missing them.

“No! Dada. No pwetty mama. Erm… mama then dada.” She corrected him at first with some vigor and then tailed off into feeling a little guilty about saying he wasn’t as so.

“Oh I see. I agree, Ted, I agree. I’m not as pretty as mummy but my Teddy is right?” He comforted her, kissing her cheek a few hundred times falling into just raspberries, Teddy falling into a hiccuped giggle.

“I definitely think so.” You assured her. “I heard Alexander-Arnold girls are the most beautiful.” You continued on. Trent nodded, Teddy quick to follow his motions with her own nod and a ‘tay,’ appreciating the compliments.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough work here!

[pablitogavii]

can you do something when the reader is doing her skincare routine and then gavi comes and wants to try her products on his skin please ?🤍

Skin Care

"Amor! What's taking you so long!!??" Gavi was whining while waiting for you in the bed impatient to hold you now that you were finally with him.

You came to LA with Aurora and his parents last night wanting to support your boy in his first game of the tour. He hates the distance especially with such a crazy time change and was very excited for you to join him in US.

"I'm doing my skincare cariño!" you yelled back after washing off your cleanser and Pablo came into the bathroom looking curiously at all your products laid out in front of you.

"You put all of that??" he asks looking at the bottles and you giggle shaking your head explaining that each thing has its own function.

"And that makes your skin so soft always??" he says and you blush a little nodding your head getting an idea.

"Do you want to try it cariño?" you ask and he was unsure but you told him it's alright and if he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to do it again.

"Okay..but only because I love you so much!" he smirks and you blush nodding your head and kissing his lips before helping him apply the cleanser onto his face.

"Smells like coconut?" he says while rubbing it into his skin and you giggle nodding your head while applying your face cream.

"Would you die if you eat it?" he asks a typical boy question and you burst out in laughter telling him a simple 'yes' and turning on the water for him to wash it off.

"How does it feel now?" you ask and he touched his skin looking into the mirror for any kind of change.

"Um..clean?" he says and you giggle putting some toner on your hands and asking him to turn towards you and he does. You rub some of it into his skin and he closes his eyes while his hands rest on your hips.

"There..that's a toner..and now the face cream. Do you want to do it or me?" you ask and he opens his eyes leaning down and kissing your lips lovingly.

"My hands are busy right now..so you do it please princesa" he smirked rubbing your hips and you smile blushing a little while putting some of the cream onto his face.

"You have a bit of facial hair growing amor.." you say touching his chin and he nods looking in the mirror and telling you he had no time to shave but was planning on it.

"Mm good..cause you know I love your babyface" you smile and he blushes when you kissed his lips. Despite refusing it, Pablo LOVED to be babied by you.

"I'm a man!" he says and you both laugh loudly while going to bed and cuddling close to each other.

"Mm I really like how my skin feels..maybe I'll do it again" Pablo says and you smile nodding your head and kissing his cheek, then his lips and finally his nose before nuzzling your face into his neck and you both fell asleep.

A day later during training..

"Hermano, your skin looks really good" Pedri was the first one to notice and Pablo smiled remembering the cute moment he shared with you while you were helping him learn about skin care.

"What's your secret chico??" Kounde joked but Pablo proudly answered "Skin care tío!" and everyone laughed including him.

I hope you enjoyed! Also, Visça Barça tomorrow!!