#beard trimming kit

[magma-iron]

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[lex-the-flex]

Misty Mornings

Origins!Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: On this particular morning, Logan is in need of a shave, and you’re more than happy to take on the job.

Word Count: 650

Warning(s): None, PURE FLUFF! (Cause Logan deserves it). A tiny amount of nervousness.

A/N: If I had a man that would let me do this, I’d be his forever. (Basically a MEGA GREEN FLAG) Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

The low coo of multiple mourning doves echo across the woods lingering beyond your backyard. The strong scent of the early morning lake balances itself against the soft and subtle fog hovering over the calm water as the morning sun threatens to break the cool air. Pulling your knitted blanket closer, a calm breeze welcomes the ambiance and colors of Autumn to the secluded place you call home. 

Being fully engrossed in your novel, you don’t hear Logan walking down the dock. Turning the page, the creaking sound of the wooden deck brings you back to reality.

“Baby?” He asks. 

“Hi, Lo.” You respond. 

Closing your book, you stand up to greet Logan with a warm hug. Extending on your toes, he briefly presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“What are you doing out here? You’ll catch a cold.” Logan replies. 

“It’s not snowing yet, babe. Trust me.” You smile, before reaching down to pick up your book. 

Offering his hand to you, you close your palm around Logan’s fingers as he leads you back towards the elegant two storied cabin. Folding your blanket, you throw it on the back of an armchair along with your book. 

Following Logan into the kitchen, you hop up on the granite countertop, and he turns on the coffee pot. Gazing up at Logan, you hum to yourself at the sight before you. 

“What is it?” He asks with a sly grin. 

“Nothin’. I’m just not used to you ever being in the kitchen. It’s still strange to me.” You explain. 

“Oh, yeah? And how long have we been together?” Logan questions, walking to you. 

Placing both of his hands on either side of your hips, you tilt your head backwards and wrap your arms around his large shoulders. Smiling, the two of you just gaze at each other lovingly for a moment, silently enjoying the peace. 

Running your fingers through Logan’s thick dark hair, he lightly chuckles when you move onto his slightly overgrown beard. 

“Hmm, you need to shave.” You firmly state, tickling his scruff. 

“Is that a threat, darlin’?” He teases. 

“Maybe… Will you let me trim your beard this time? Please?” You ask. 

Determined to get an answer, Logan finally agrees, ultimately losing the never-ending battle. 

Leaving you in the kitchen, Logan shortly returns with his shaving kit. Placing it on the counter next to you, he unzips the small leather pouch and takes out a pair of scissors. Handing them to you, Logan carefully returns his hands to your hips, eager to see what you’ll do. Softly cutting off pieces of your lover’s beard, you suddenly become focused on the task at hand, unaware of Logan’s loving and intrigued stare. 

HIs light hazel eyes glance deeply along the edges of your face, studying the details of your focused state. Unconsciously wrapping your legs around Logan’s waist, he slowly pulls you closer, wanting to be more intimate. Your heart begins to pound in your chest, nearing the end of your task. 

“I”m almost done, babe.” You whisper, flicking away the remnants of his beard. 

Finishing up, you set down the scissors and wipe Logan’s freshly trimmed jawline. 

“There you go, you’re all nice and clean.” You reply. 

“Mmm, thank you, Y/N. It feels so much better already. You should imagine it.” Logan teases. 

Lowering his lips to the nape of your neck, Logan playfully kisses the soft skin of your neck. Allowing you to feel the fresh scruff tickle you, a smile creeps on his lips whilst a gentle moan escapes your mouth. 

“Okay, cowboy… le–” You try, but can’t. 

Unable to push Logan away, you find yourself craving his touch even more. Tangling your fingers in his thick hair, his mouth searches for yours. Kissing you passionately, your fingers grip Logan’s strong muscles whilst he lifts you from the counter and carries you deeper into the house. 

wolverine masterlist ~

@dreamliners

@chronicallybubbly

@dontfeedthebigbadwolf

@the-resident-vampire

@ovaryacted

@misssarcasm15

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

@the-moth-archives

@stilllivindue2spite

@wolviesgal

@mostly-marvel-musings

[muldermuse]

So I had this idea that Butcher gets into a bar fight w/ some pro-supe dudes. Then he comes to reader's place and lets her treat his wounds but her touch makes him all h0rny and smut ensues… (only if you feel comfortable the write something like this). Love your work !! xoxo :)

thanks for sending this through love! this is angst/smut with exboyfriend!butcher

he’s never an unwelcome sight at your door, even as an ex boyfriend- you can’t deny that your heart skips when you see his burly frame in your hallway. however, when his lip is busted and his eyebrow is leaking blood down his swollen face; any arousal quickly turns into concern

this isn’t the first time he’s turned up like this. it happened countless times in your relationship and somehow, you’re still his first port of call after a beating

you both understand the routine by now. he presses a kiss to your cheek (conscious not to get blood on your soft skin) and wordlessly makes his way to sit on the rim of your bathtub. you grab a bottle of whiskey and your first aid kit and follow him into the bathroom. you take off your shirt as you enter, leaving you in just a comfy bra

“no funny business, butcher” you warn “not having you cover another one of my shirts with blood”

“should start buyin’ ya scrubs” he huffs, taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle

his bloodied hand finds your outer thigh and rubs idle circles across the soft cotton of your joggers. he groans in contentment as you dab his cuts with anti-septic- butcher has a weird relationship with pain. it doesn’t escape you that it could be the longest relationship he’s ever been in- perhaps even the healthiest. he knows where he is with pain, he understands it. you loved him unconditionally and would’ve crawled through flames to save him- he never understood that

“what was it this time?” you hum

“some fuckin’ pro supe cunts. gettin’ in fuckin’ hughie’s face because they recognised annie. beat the fuck outta a cunt wearing some homelander shirt”

“how’s hughie?”

“fuckin’ fine and dandy darlin’. i took care of it” he states, proudly

“who’s taking care of you?” you question, the malice is intended and the obvious answer is what you want to hear leave his chapped lips. you take care of him- you just need to hear him say it. hear him admit that he knows what you do for him

he takes a longer swig of the whiskey allowing you to ruminate in the brief silence, “don’t need takin’ care of”

you dress the rest of his wounds in silence. you try to ignore the arousal his presence always causes you but you know how this is going to end. he follows you into the bedroom and allows the routine continue

your bedroom is illuminated through only your flickering scented candle. it smells like billy and you’ve probably got about 10 more unlit in your wardrobe- terrified that they’ll stop producing it or, more likely, terrified one day billy won’t come back to you

his cock slides into you perfectly every time as the trimmed hair at his base rubs deliciously against your clit. his kisses against your neck are desperate, you love knowing that the itch of his beard will cause irritation that should last a few days- a physical reminder of his presence. he holds off until you cum on his cock, digging your nails into his ass to pull him deeper into you whilst your walls squeeze him. he cums after a few more thrusts, licking and moaning into your mouth. he holds you against his heaving chest, a protective arm pinning your body to his

you’re on the cusp of sleep when you hear it, “you look after me love, always have…wish i could look after you”

to complete the routine- he’s gone when you wake up

and you await his return.

[starsifter]

Ford x Reader dating headcanons, some are like POTs specific and trans masc specific

When you first start dating, he has no idea what he's doing really, he starts showing physical affection in very awkward ways like ruffling your hair and just sorta grabbing your arms and giving you random hugs

He's very paranoid about Bill hurting you, so he doesn't let you sleep in his bed with him for the longest time, but he won't tell you why

Once, you fell asleep in his lap and when you woke up he was gone, but you were tucked in nice and neat. When you went looking for him, his bedroom door was locked.

He's insecure about holding your hand, especially in public, worried about what you'll say and what other people will say

His hands are nice and warm to the touch, they feel very soft

He's very insistent that you get up slow so you don't faint or fall, and he keeps you steady when you get dizzy

Normally he doesn't like to be bothered when he's working but he likes it when you sit with him and just exist near him

He's very sensitive to your dysphoria and relates to it, he makes an extra effort to ensure you don't experience it because of him

He likes to read the things he's writing out loud and narrate his research when you're around

Once, you had a very strange dream with him in it, but he won't admit that you'd somehow shared dreams because he has no idea how it happened

He mumbles a lot in his sleep, a lot of sad and confusing things, if you ask about it he just brushes it off, he doesn't want you to worry

He loves hearing about your dreams, he's very invested in whether or not a "triangle guy" features in them

Sometimes, after a rough night of no sleep, he asks you to read to him because he finds your voice very calming

He falls asleep on top of books often, and in your lap or with his head nestled on the crook of your shoulder, he's a very light sleeper

He's up late often, studying and working, you like staying up with him, to which his response is to begrudgingly go to bed just so you'll go

He has very strange hygiene habits, burns his beard off instead of shaving it, he washes his hands and uses hand sanitizer on them before he eats, he wears gloves to cook

Once you asked him to trim your hair and he just kinda burnt the excess off, he took you to a barber afterwards and paid for them to fix it, he was horrifically embarrassed when you explained what happened to the barber

Sometimes you shower together, in a nonsexual way, he helps you clean your back and hair, normally he takes scalding hot showers but he turns the heat down so you don't pass out

He takes you on a date in the alien ship and holds you while he uses the magnet gun to slide you both down

He excitedly shows you everything, including the deactivated security bots, he accidentally reactivates them while knocking on them and assuring you they're "perfectly safe"

He stands in front of you and you hide, he knows you can't control your heart rate, and you both make it out unscathed

If you get into an altercation with any anomalies he immediately jumps to take the hits for you, to his own detriment

He's embarrassed accepting help from you to treat his wounds, but he sits still, biting his tongue if anything hurts and never letting you know

He always has an extensive first aid kit on him when you're around, and he likes to keep track of your meds, but he won't bug you about them if you don't want him to

He tests out pet names on you, recording your responses to them, he called you sugar plum once, never again

He likes to call you dear and dearest (and babe, although a bit awkwardly) in public

He calls you dove, starshine, beloved, honey, and bunny in private, he slipped up once and Stanley never let it go

He teaches you how to shoot, and makes sure you're carrying protection on you whenever you go out, usually his modified bear spray

He refuses to text so you're always receiving random calls from him, they're typically never about anything important, he just likes to hear your voice and know that you're okay

He gives you his coat when you're cold and when you trip and fall or become harmed in any way he worries incessantly, he treats all your wounds very carefully and says everything he's going to do before he does it, always asking if it's okay

He smells like pine needles, smoke, pen ink, and generally has a nice outside-smelling musk about him

He has dozens of coats, turtlenecks, and sweaters, he lets you borrow them whenever you want, they always smell like him

He forgets to take his coat and boots off around the house, he wears socks with cat patterns all over them

When you argue he tends to pace a lot, he's very stubborn and has a hard time seeing when he's wrong

He can get a little possessive and protective at times, and you argue about it, eventually he concedes, knowing you're right

One time you came home very late at night and he was out looking for you, Stanley stayed behind knowing you'd come back, he tells you his brother really cares about you and he's rarely ever seen him so worried

Stan warns you not to break Ford's heart, if you ever tell Ford about this, they argue about it

Stan and Ford argue and fight a lot, but they're very close, and they try to not argue in front of you

Ford is awkward around his grandniece and grandnephew, but you can tell he cares a lot about his family and he makes an effort to make sure they like you too. Mabel is obsessed with your relationship, it gets to be a bit much at times.

The end :D

[auspicioustidings]

Ah, to be but a lady living alone in a cottage in the countryside that inadvertently becomes a military base against your will as it's in a tactically fantastic location for a very specific mission.

Ah, to be grumpily baking bread for the men who have told you that sorry they are not leaving and this isn't America babe so no 3rd amendment for you now please stop being so damn difficult we'll be out of your hair in no time.

Ah, to yell at a big scary man in a skull mask to get his damn gun off of your nice sofa and go do whatever it he is doing at the table like a civilised person and have him just fall head over heels at the bravery.

Or to keep telling Price he needs to trim his beard because he is not eating at your table looking all scruffy and have him fall head over heels at the audacity.

Or to laugh at Soap's stupid jokes and have him fall head over heels at the humour.

Or to take only a second to be shocked before grabbing the first aid kit and a sewing kit and figuring out how to knit together the knife wound Gaz has and to have him fall head over heels at the toughness.

Don't mind me I'm just in my mind palace enjoying everybody loves you and can't stand how stubborn you are in equal measures hours.

[hihhasotherfixations]

John Price headcanons sfw & nsfw

I don’t usually do headcannons so please bear with me 👉👈

I hope you enjoy them tho :3 Will I use many of these in my writing? Yes, yes I will. These are both in general as well as him with you ;3

Part 2

Sfw:

He has an entire routine for his beard. Keeps it trimmed regularly and takes very good care of it, which causes it to feel very nice and soft to the touch.

Absolutely LOVES when you’re the one doing it though. It’s a small act of love that he can never get enough of. Whether you’re the one trimming it or just putting some products in. It’s a moment where he can sit on the bath rim and have you stand between his legs - or the other way around where he props you up on the sink and stands in between your legs. He just places his hands on your hips and closes his eyes, trusting you with something so important to him. It’s a very intimate thing that he treasures.

He has reading glasses. I won’t budge on this. Square(rectangle) ones with a very thin frame. Tends to forget whenever he puts them on his head and proceeds to go searching for them for five minutes.

He is very warm blooded. Always runs hot like a furnace. A blessing in the winter, a curse in the summer. Especially because he loves to cuddle.

Has a little trinket on his desk representing each of the 141 (+ Nik, Laswell and Farah). Be it a gift they gave to him or something that reminds him of them. There’s something for everyone. It clutters the edge of his desk a bit but it’s worth it because whenever the paperwork gets too much, he can just look at the little shrine he built and smile.

His love language is physical touch and quality time. While he loves giving you gifts and being romantic too, nothing beats holding you in his arms while you cuddle on the couch or in bed.

Speaking of- this man absolutely adores you. He doesn’t think he deserves the love you give him because of the things he’s done in his life. But every day he sees you, you prove that you do love him and he wants to return that love twice over.

His biggest fear is coming home after deployment to an empty house. Finding a letter on the table stating you can’t wait for him any longer. He’d understand, of course. But it would crush him.

While we’re on the sad train already- he suffers frequent nightmares due to PTSD. Feels really guilty for waking you up but also can’t stop himself from seeking your comfort after one of them - craving it. If you allow him to (he wouldn’t bring it up unless you suggested it), he’ll call you if he’s out on deployment or at base. Give him that privilege to phone you awake just to comfort him? There is nothing that man won’t do for you anymore.

He is terrified of being the one to leave you too though. He knows that if he’s ever faced with the option to sacrifice himself for one of the 141, he would. But it also breaks his heart because it would mean he’d leave you for them. He tries not to think about it like that, but it’s a constant conflict in his mind.

While he’s probably more likely to be a dog person, I can also really see him with cats just curled up on his chest. Once again, this man is always warm. The little felines will search him out like a bloodhound, preferring him over laying by the radiator.

THIS 👏 MAN 👏 CAN 👏 COOK 👏

And he loves to do it too. His idea of a hobby is either reading, building models or cooking. You can often find him in the kitchen with a cook book, making a five star meal. Loves to see your reaction to the taste of it, makes him proud of himself.

Also, yeah, he likes building models :3. Miniatures. In his spare time you can find him on the couch, bent over the coffee table with his reading glasses perched on his nose while he’s building a ww2 bomber plane out of matchsticks from some random pattern he found online. He has very steady hands and it causes the models to always look fantastic. His best and biggest work is a ship in a bottle from a kit you gave him for an anniversary between you two. He only works on that in short increments to make sure he doesn’t screw it up - it’s about 2/3 done. You’ve repeatedly tried to get him to share his work online but he always gets bashful and refuses.

If he ever got the chance to do it together with the team though?? He’s gonna be beaming about that single evening for a week straight.

His favourite colour is dark green, like the forests :)

This is less of a headcannon and more just snippets of canon proof that I found. But he can speak English, Russian, Arabic and Spanish. Maybe even more.

He’s a tea person. Can’t stand coffee. It’s not about the taste, simply that every time he tried it, it gave him a headache.

When he first introduced you to the team, he was very nervous. Really wanted them to like you. So when Soap immediately took you into a hug and thanked you for ‘taking care of the old man’, followed by Gaz introducing himself with a warm smile and a praising regalia of the things he’d heard from Price, he couldn’t be happier. And when he at one point saw you at the kitchen table with Ghost, talking calmly and laughing with the hulking man who’s tension had dropped from his shoulders? He knew you were the one.

Loves going on double dates with Laswell and her wife too. You’re all good friends and it’s a chance to truly unwind and just catch up with Kate outside of work.

Please for the love of all that is holy, take a bath or shower with him. He ADORES them. Really wants so bad to take care of you. Will do your whole cleaning routine for you if you let him. If it’s something he’s not used to? Teach him, he’s very eager to learn.

All in all, this man just loves you so much. He finds himself so so lucky that you chose him of all people as your partner. Whether you’re civilian or military, he’ll protect you with life and limb. Literally.

So, those were the sfw thoughts bouncing in my head. I hope you liked them. Now we’re moving onto the spicy stuff. Please respect the banner, thank you and more stuff for this man is coming! ^^

Nsfw:

He is an ass man. All the way. Don’t get me wrong, he LOVES your thighs, seeing the way his fingers indent the flesh when he squeezes, being buried between them - it’s heavenly. But there is just something about your ass that he can’t get enough of. If his eyes aren’t on it, then his hands are.

He won’t randomly smack your ass - doesn’t really sit right with him, doesn’t find it proper (except for certain situations ;3). But dear god does he always have a hand on your ass to squeeze if he gets the chance. Walking somewhere together? If he can, he’ll slide his hand from your back/waist down to your ass and hold there. Sitting on his lap? You already know it, his hand is on your ass, keeping you in place. Brushing past you? One hand on your waist, one hand on your ass while he apologises and squeezes past.

A gentle over a rough lover. While he can go both ways, he prefers to go slow and deep. Watching your face contort in pleasure as he fucks you, hearing every noise you make.

This man is an absolute pleasure dom. He gets off on seeing you get off. There’s plenty of nights where he solely focuses on you and doesn’t cum himself.

Doesn’t like the word daddy but for the love of god PLEASE use honorifics. Call him captain and sir and you’ll have an entirely different man on your hands.

Prefers giving over receiving oral. There’s just something about working his tongue and mouth on you that never fails to make him groan against you - even if his mouth is otherwise occupied.

Will always properly prepare you. He doesn’t like hurting you. He’s big and he knows it so he doesn’t want to take any chances.

While he doesn’t mind quickies (in his office is a favourite), he prefers the actual thing. Like stated before, he wants to focus on you and give you all the pleasure he can and a quicky just doesn’t allow for that.

For those instances where you rile him up enough to forego his gentler side however? He knows how to work you. He can push every button you have and have you seeing stars while he fucks the life out of you. Don’t expect to be standing on strong legs the day after.

Man has stamina for DAYS. Prefers to make you cum multiple times before he cums himself. Need a moment in between orgasms to recover before you can go again? That’s okay, you can cockwarm him while he waits.

Speaking of cum. It’s thick, potent and by god he cums a lot. Properly stuffs you if you let him.

Big on marking you. Loves leaving bites, hickeys and handprints. Give him the same too. Scratch marks, bite marks, hickeys. He loves checking his body over in he morning to see what you left.

He has quite the libido on him. He can’t help it, you’re the most inviting and enticing thing in his eyes. Bend over to pick something up and his cock can already be hardening in his pants.

He’s very considerate of your wants and needs though. If you don’t want to have sex, he’ll cuddle you and hold you instead. If you’re not into a certain thing, he’ll refrain on doing it next time. Very much wants to make it a time of pure pleasure and love for you, because that’s what it is for him too.

Very into kisses. Sloppy, long kisses where you moan and whine into his mouth. Better yet if you muffle your moans in his mouth while he fucks you.

Favourite positions are missionary, mating press, doggy style, lotus and spooning sex. He loves them for different reasons.

Missionary because of how close he can be, feeling your legs wrap around his waist while all of him touches all of you.

Mating press because of how deep he can hit and keep such control. He can see your face contort in pleasure while folding your legs up and holding you down.

Doggy style is obvious as to why. But he also really loves watching the way your back arches with this one. He can hold onto your hips and just let his eyes rove your body.

Lotus he loves a lot when cuddles on the couch evolve into more, or when he’s in his office and the need arrises for you both. Just having you seated on his lap, your legs around him, body pressed so closely into his while he gently fucks up into you? Heaven.

Spooning sex? You mean cuddles + sex? Hit. Him. Up. He absolutely loves fucking you like this in the morning. Lazy, tired, properly waking each other up with pleasure.

If you’re into it and allow him to, he’d even actually wake you up like that. Big on somnophelia like that for the thought of pulling you out of your dreams and your sleep with pleasure. If he gets to the stage where he’s opened you up and his cock is filling you without you waking up until then, he’s oh so proud of himself. Would only do it if you’re comfortable though.

Very big on cockwarming. Watch a movie together on the couch and let him rest his cock in you from behind. Can evolve into spooning sex on the couch while making you try to keep your attention on the movie. His hand on your chin, keeping your face pointed to the screen while he whispers against your ear.

I said it before, he’s big. Long and thick and knows how to use it well. He’s a very hairy man all over but he keeps it neatly trimmed down there.

The h a p p y t r a i l of this man. Run your nails over it and it instantly sends blood rushing into his cock.

Overall, John will fuck you whenever he gets the chance. And by the gods he will show you what it’s like to be truly worshipped.

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to interact or send me any asks, I’d love to chat ^^

Part 2

[sequinsmile-x]

bestie bestie bestie. what if what if aaron kept his beard/facial hair when he was back from overseas and when em and aaron had kids, he’s never had it shaven off. one day, he shaves off his beard and his kids got a shock and like “i dont wike it daddy” and cries and runs to hug em. and aaron is like “its me honey, its daddy” and theyre like “no! youre not my daddy” and it hurts him a little but em also agrees with her kids, “yeah, i dont wike it daddy” 😅🥹

Hi bestie!! I love this idea, and it was exactly the fluff I needed to write today. I really hope you enjoy this <3

-x-

Transform

After a slight mishap with his razor, Aaron has to shave off his beard for the first time in years, much to the disappointment of the women in his family.

Especially his 18-month-old daughter who doesn't recognise him.

-x-

Words: 2k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’d always loved Aaron’s beard. 

It had taken her aback when she first saw it, the rugged stubble at odds with everything she’d ever known about her boss. Even when she’d visited him in the hospital after Haley and Jack had gone into hiding he’d been clean shaven, something he’d since told her had hurt like hell to do, his chest still burning from every wound Foyet had given him. 

By the time she can acknowledge the fact the beard makes him even more attractive, her concentration on Ian and Declan the moment she gets back, it’s gone. A wry smile painted across Aaron’s face as he tells her Jack didn’t like it. 

The next time she sees the beard is on their honeymoon. She convinces him to grow it out, fascinated by how it feels against her skin, the scratch of it something she finds comforting and arousing in equal measure. They end up straight back into a case the moment they get home and the airline loses his luggage and therefore his shaving kit. She’s distracted by the combination of the beard and his suit and she decides she needs to see it every day, her husband impossibly more attractive to her. 

He agrees to keep it, Jack’s distaste for it apparently long gone, and Emily’s love for the beard only increases. She loved to scratch her nails against it, to hear the rasp of it in their otherwise quiet bedroom. He mostly keeps it tidy, trimming and keeping it neat, but it gets a little more unkempt when their daughter is born. Ivy had been a fussy baby, colicky and only happy to sleep on one of her parent's chests for weeks. She’d even loved it then, loved how he looked when holding their tiny little girl, his stubble covered cheek pressed against her dark hair as he paced the bedroom to try and get her to sleep. 

She sighs sadly as she watches him from the doorway of their ensuite, her arms crossed over her chest as she leans against the wall. Aaron chuckles as he makes eye contact with her in the mirror, his attention briefly shifting from his reflection and his focus on his task. 

“You look like Ivy when she doesn’t get her way,” he quips as he looks back at himself, massaging the shaving balm into his face. 

Emily narrows her eyes at the comparison to their 18-month-old and pushes herself off the wall and walks towards him, leaning against the countertop in front of the sink, “It’s a travesty.” 

He smiles at her before he swills the razor in the sink and then starts to shave his face, “I can’t exactly walk around with a notch in my beard for the next couple of weeks, Em,” he says, tilting his head to pull the razor down his neck, “It will grow back.” 

He’d been distracted by his phone ringing when tidying up his beard, accidentally slipping and shaving a gap into it that usually wasn’t there. He’d decided, much against Emily’s protests, it was best to shave it off entirely and start again. 

“I know,” she sighs, running her fingers through his hair, her eyes fixed on what he was doing, the revealing of his skin underneath and she smiles, “And at least for the first time in three years I won’t have beard burn on my thighs.” 

He laughs and shakes his head at her, pulling the razor away from his throat, “Sweetheart, please don’t make me laugh when I’m holding a razor against my neck.”

She scrunches her nose up and nods, “Sorry, honey,” she’s cut off by Ivy crying out for her from her room and she leans in to kiss the tip of his nose, “I’ll go get her.” 

She stretches as she walks out of the master bedroom and towards the nursery, smiling as she opens the door to find Ivy standing up in her crib, her hands wrapped around the bar. Her dark hair was a mess and her pjyamas rumbled from where she’d slept, looking every bit as adorable as she always did. 

“Mama!” Ivy yells, her smile wide as she reaches for Emily, her tiny fists clenching and unclenching as she impatiently waits for her mother to cross the room.

“Good morning, sweet girl,” Emily says, lifting the toddler onto her hip, “We're going to have to get you a big girl bed soon,” she says, kissing her forehead, “I think you’re close to climbing out of the crib. Shall we go find Jack?”

Ivy snuggles against her and wraps her hand around the neckline of Emily’s t-shirt, one that used to belong to Aaron that she’d stolen for pjyamas, and she sighs, “‘Ack!” 

Emily chuckles and turns out of the nursery and heads downstairs, the sound of Jack’s cartoons letting her know exactly where he is. He’d been a morning person as long as she’d known him, often up even before Aaron these days, and he was happy to entertain himself until the rest of the family woke up. 

“Morning sweetie,” she says as she steps into the living room, putting down Ivy who was wriggling in her arms. As soon as she’s on the floor she runs over and joins Jack on the couch, practically climbing in his lap.

Jack turns and smiles at Emily, “Morning Mom,” he says, reaching for the television remote to change the channel, his attention on his little sister for a moment, “Shall we watch Dora?”

Ivy nods enthusiastically and claps her hands together, “Dora!” 

Emily ruffles Jack’s hair and smiles softly when he looks up at her, “You can carry on watching your show, Jack. You don’t have to change the channel just for her.” 

He shrugs like it was nothing, like the way he loved Ivy didn’t make her heart swell in her chest every time. When they first found out she was pregnant with Ivy, Emily had been worried about his reaction to becoming a big brother, but he’d been excited from the start - especially when they found out they were having a girl. They’d recently started trying for another baby, both of them well aware they wanted to expand their family and that they had limited time left to do so. The thought of having another baby, of having another little person to spend moments like this with made her giddy, the love she had for her family and the ordinary days she got to spend with them overwhelming. 

“It’s okay, she likes it,” Jack says, placing the remote back down, as Ivy stares at the television. 

“You’re a good big brother,” Emily replies, suppressing a yawn, “I’m going to go make some coffee, your Dad will make breakfast as soon as he’s downstairs.”

She turns to leave the room but smiles when she sees Aaron walking towards her, his face cleanly shaved and a soft smile on his face. 

“I can make your coffee, sweetheart,” he says as he makes it to her side and both Jack and Ivy turn to look at him. Before Emily can respond the kids react in unison to Aaron’s appearance. 

“Dad, you shaved!” Jack says, his words partially drowned out as Ivy bursts into tears. 

“Princess, what’s wrong?” Aaron says, moving to pick her up from the couch, but she only cries harder, scrambling out of his way and off the couch towards Emily, all but climbing up her until she lifts her.

“Baby,” Emily says, frowning as she exchanges a concerned look with Aaron as she holds Ivy close, running her hand up and down her back as the toddler buries her face in her neck, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

Ivy peeks out from Emily’s embrace and looks over at Aaron, her eyebrows furrowed as she unhooks one arm from around Emily’s neck, “Who that?” 

Emily sees it register on Aaron’s face the moment she realises what’s happened too. Ivy had never seen him without his beard and she didn’t recognise him. Emily has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing, well aware that it wasn’t appropriate to do so when her daughter was upset and her husband looked so worried that he’d caused it. 

“Ivy, that’s Daddy,” Emily says, adjusting her hold on the toddler so she’s facing Aaron. She smiles when Ivy snuggles further into her embrace as she steps towards Aaron, as if she could hide away from him in her mother’s arms. 

“Not Daddy.” 

Aaron finally moves from where he’d been frozen in place and steps towards them, swallowing thickly against the guilt that was climbing up it at the thought of upsetting his little girl, no matter how accidental it had been. 

“It’s me, I promise,” he says, reaching out for her hand and lifting it to his lips to kiss the back of it. He’s grateful when she doesn’t pull away, her gaze intense as she looks at him, an expression Emily would say is all him staring right at him whilst she tries to figure out if he’s really who he says he is. 

“It is Daddy, Ivy,” Jack says, walking over with a framed picture in his hand, a photo from their wedding in his hands, Aaron’s clean shaven face staring up at them from behind glass, “See.” 

Emily smiles gratefully at her son for trying to help before she turns her attention back to her little girl, “He looks a little different but it’s still Daddy.”

Ivy touches Aaron’s cheek, her eyebrows knitting together as she feels the soft skin, and then she rests her head on Emily’s shoulder, “I not like it.” 

Emily laughs and kisses the top of Ivy’s head, “I’ll tell you a secret, sweet girl,” she says, kissing her one more time, “Mommy doesn’t like it either,” she says, winking at her husband when he rolls his eyes, “Now,” she says, putting Ivy back down on the couch, “Why don’t you two watch Dora, and we’ll go make breakfast, okay?” 

Ivy is reluctant to let go of Emily at first, but is quickly distracted by her favourite television show and her big brother, all of her concern about Aaron and his missing beard long gone. 

Emily walks into the kitchen and smiles softly when she sees Aaron the closest he’d ever come to pouting, his shoulders slumped slightly as he starts to gather everything he needs to make their breakfast. 

“She’s okay honey,” Emily says as she walks over, wrapping her arms around him as she encourages him to turn to look at her, both of her palms on her back, “She’s just never seen you without your beard before.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I hate that I upset her.”

She hums as she runs her knuckles down his bare cheek, glancing them over his jaw before she works her way up again, “Maybe you’ll be more careful next time you shave when it’s grown back.” 

He rolls his eyes at her and pulls her in, pressing his lips against hers as he drags her in for a kiss. It feels different to what she’s used to, his skin soft against hers, the scratch of the beard that had become so normal to her gone. She sighs contentedly as she stamps his lips against hers again as they pull away.

“It’s different,” she says, kissing him again, her eyes boring into his as she pulls back, her hands on the back of his head as she holds him in place. 

“What is?” He asks, running his hand up and down her back, his palm having snuck under the large t-shirt she was wearing.

“The kissing,” she replies, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, purposely catching his cheek instead. 

“Bad different or good different?” He asks, raising his eyebrow at her and she chuckles, leaning in to kiss him properly, her tongue sweeping through his mouth. 

“Good different,” she says, barely pulling back to speak, “Never bad.” 

He smiles widely at her as he pulls back and she cups his cheek and she presses her thumbs into his dimples, the carved out dips in his skin standing out even more now he no longer has a beard.

“How hard was it not to laugh when you realised why she was crying?” He asks, turning his head to kiss her palm. 

She bursts into laughter, the sound bright and beautiful, and something he wants to listen to forever. 

“Oh honey, you have no idea.” 

-x-

Tag List:

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[newtonsheffield]

I feel for Wimbledon Kate. Having to perform mundane tasks while having a dreamy Anthony in the same room. Imagine washing dishes with that kind of distraction!

Oh Kate finds Anthony so distracting. Especially after they move in together. She can’t stop staring at Anthony while she does the most boring, basic stuff like brushes her teeth while Anthony trims his beard.

He always stands in the bathroom in just his tight boxer briefs completely unashamed of the fact he’s practically naked while he trims his beard and slowly moisturises oil into it, softening the rough hair so it feels gentle against her thighs. Kate’s still staring at him, her mouth full of toothpaste and her toothbrush hanging limply from her hand when he moves on to his hair, smoothing his hands through it, the muscles of his arms flexing deliciously.

“Everything okay?” Anthony blinked at her, noticing her staring. “Are you done brushing?”

Kate shook herself, spitting out the toothpaste and running the water under the tap. “Yep. Everything’s fine.”

Anthony kissed her cheek as he made his way around her, his hands ghosting over her hips for a second. “Love you.”

“Yeah I… Love you too.” Kate swallowed, watching him walk away towards the wardrobe they shared now. “Even if you’re so hot you could turn a Nun.”

The thing Kate hadn’t realised when she’d asked Anthony to move in with her was that he’d… be everywhere. Well, she had realised that, she wasn’t an idiot. But he was so… present.

He was there when she brushed her teeth and he slipped into the shower behind her and soothed the muscles in her shoulders and gently massaged shampoo into her hair. He was there when she slipped out the door to the tennis court outside, waving to Mary and Edwina.

“Morning, ladies!”

He was there when she ate breakfast, ducking to take a bite of her yoghurt off her spoon, smiling at her when he pressed their lips together.

“There’s more in the fridge.”

Anthony smiled at her, sipping his smoothie “I just wanted a bite. Your Mum’s here.”

Kate nodded, waving Mary into the kitchen, “Do you have classes this afternoon?”

“I do. David, his dad is very scary and thinks I’m going to turn his son into a champion overnight. David hates tennis and wants to play basketball.”

Kate nodded, kissing him gently as he snatched up his keys, “I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He smiled at Mary, “Mary, lovely to see you.”

“You as well, Anthony.”

Kate watched him leave, watched him throw his kit bag into the Range Rover he’d bought himself when he won Wimbledon. A treat, he’d called it. A treat that sat in his driveway next to her car all the time now. A matching set almost.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Kate nodded, turning back to her breakfast, “Yeah I just… I’m still getting used to Anthony… being around.”

Mary chuckled, “It’s been a while since Appa died, honey, but that’s what boyfriends did in my day. Provided emotional support, shared burdens.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “I’m not regretting us living together, I love him but… he’s too perfect? I got home yesterday and he’d pre-put my myoball in the fridge for me because he knows I like it after a weights session.”

“And this is a problem?” Mary chuckled, “That he loves you and wants to look after you?”

“No he just… he’s very distracting. And I’m trying to live my life.”

The back door slammed shut and Edwina slunk in, “Oh, poor Kate. Her little boyfriend’s a simp. Some of us can’t get a text back!”

Kate looked at their mother who shook her head mouthing “Josie Bagwell hasn’t called her back.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “He’s also too neat. Our pantry is in alphabetical order.”

Edwina blinked at her, “You are running out of sympathy babe. Big time.”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Shape-Up

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Cpt Syverson x Black!Reader

Fandom: Sand Castle

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Warnings: Daddy kink, creampie, unprotected p-in-v, pregnancy sex, wasted sandwiches

A/N: There is a really good Syverson Spotify playlist I listened to for this. It was dope. Also, this is my first time writing Sy, so please, be kind. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist

“Peaches!” 

You can hear the shout and start making your way upstairs finding your husband in the bathroom. 

“There they are!” He coos, kissing your cheek before sliding his hand across your slightly pregnant belly.

“Baby, I’m only at three months! There’s barely a baby yet,” you giggle, secretly loving how Sy has become so sweet suddenly.

“Hey, girl, you’re carrying my baby. Let me be cute, alright?” he insists, kissing your forehead, “Or if you want, I can trim my beard myself. I know you hate doing that for me,” he jests, enjoying the expression change on your face.

“Oh, come on, you know I love trimming your beard, baby,” you whine, pushing out your bottom lip and giving puppy eyes for good measure.

“Fuck, you know what that does to me, Peaches. That mouth of yours got us into this whole situation, ya know?” he jokes, gesturing to your belly. 

You feign confusion and Sy rolls his eyes, and you think he is unable to see the sly smile you are hiding as he turns away.

“You do know there is a mirror in front of you, right?” he warns, and you meet his eyes in the reflective surface, “I saw that smile. You think you slick, Peaches?”

“Daaaaaddy, come on. You know we technically were planning around this time to start a family,” you gushed, pulling him close by his beard, “Plus, how cute is this belly gonna look in all them damn sundresses you like so much?”

“What can I say? You have the curves that make a sundress a thing of beauty, Peaches. Just thinking about this lil bump adding another curve to you is doing something to me,” he flirts, his hands wandering over your hips.

“You are too much, sometimes. I love that you can’t get enough of me. But damn, I just took care of you this morning, Daddy,” you insist, trying to jog his memory of having you over the kitchen table.

You watch as the memory plays again across his face, and you can’t help but smile.

He has his beard-trimming kit out on the counter and you have him sit on the toilet and comb out his beard while he watches your face. He pauses, pulling out his phone, and suddenly ‘Just the Two of Us’ is playing.

“Our song!” you beam, smiling at your man.

“We might need a new song soon. It’s gonna be more than two of us. Us versus this lil menace,” Sy laughs, his hand going to your belly.

“I mean, this baby is half-you, so it’s gotta be at least 50% menace. You are right about that,” you agree, reaching for the clippers, “Now, hush up so I can get started, Sy.”

“You only call me Sy when you’re serious, so I’ll hush up this time,” he mutters, lifting his chin so you have better access to his neck.

Luckily, you have done this enough times that it is almost muscle memory at this point. Taking care of the neckline. Shaping up the frontline. Trimming what strays pop up from combing. It’s like an art form, beard trimming. You get lost in it every time.

“I’m almost done, can you play ‘Simple Man’?” you ask, getting in the zone.

“You got it, Peaches,” he says, leaning away to choose the song on his phone, coming back to where you are holding the smaller clippers.

You get back to work, holding his chin up so you can get any spots you missed. Turning his face this way and that, you are finally happy with your work. You were even able to work in a fade to the beard which isn’t his usual style. But when his usual style is basically human Wookie, it’s hard not to want to kick it up a notch.

You step away and let him get up to check out your work in the mirror. “So, how do you like it, Daddy?”

“I love it, Peaches. Damn, I’m looking kinda sexy,” he praised, running his hands over his beard.

“You are looking damn sexy, Daddy,” you flirt, landing a hand on his ass, “Now hit the showers and I’ll have lunch ready in no time.” You scamper out of the bathroom before he can get his arms around you. By the look of lust on his face, you’re lucky you got away.

You hear Sy’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and you hit play on the kitchen speaker. ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ starts to play as he rounds the corner and he gets a fantastic view of what you’re wearing.

The “Proud Army Brat” apron that Sy got you as a gag gift is on you, as well as nothing else. Well, nothing else but a smile, as you hold up his favorite lunch. BLT with a pickle spear and kettle chips. 

“You are so fucking perfect,” he mused, grabbing the sandwich from your hands and placing it on the dining table, “Can I have you instead of the sandwich, Peaches?”

“I’d be lying if I said ‘I thought you’d never ask’,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

You two lazily kiss and dance to the song until it ends and Sy picks you up, You wrap your legs around him. He walks to the living room and kneels in front of the couch, as to set you down to sit on the couch.

Once you are seated, his hands go to your thighs, spreading you open. ‘Kashmir’ starts to play on the kitchen speaker, and if this was pre-baby you would be lighting up a joint to share. But the kind of pleasure you are about to get makes a joint sound like a high-five.

Sy sinks right into your pussy, lips sucking your clit as one hand rests on your belly and the other finds its way through your folds. You moan and place your hands behind Sy’s head, beckoning him even closer to you. 

“Fuck, Daddy, you eat pussy like a god,” you breathed, catching his eye as he licks his lips.

“Damn right, Peaches. I love eating this pussy and you know why?” he quizzes, his thumbs running little circles around your clit.

“Because it’s yours, Daddy,” you groan, grinding your hips for any kind of friction you can get.

“Yes, Peaches. It’s all mine,” he growls, pushing his shorts down so his heavy cock pops free, “Daddy is gonna fuck this pussy now, ok baby?”

“Yes, please, Daddy, fuck me. I’m ready,” you gush, ready to be filled by him.

He takes the tip of his dick and collects some of your moisture, tapping the head against your clit so you moan for him. He lines himself up and pushes in, and you both hiss at the feeling. 

“Fuck, Peaches! This pussy is so good, almost too good, baby,” he grunts, holding on to your thighs and pounding into you. He continues to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you.

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy,” you whimper, legs shaking as your orgasm overtakes you.

“That’s my good girl, Peaches. Daddy’s right behind you, baby. Daddy’s right there. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuck,” he babbles as he empties inside you, his poor brain is pretty much gone at this point. But he still has the faculties in order to pull out and kiss up your belly, as if praising you. He picks you up easily, carrying you back up the steps and into the bedroom. He helps to wipe you down and undress you.

You are already half-asleep when you feel Sy wrapping his arms around you. “Sleep for now, Peaches, then we can try to eat again. No promises that it won’t end up exactly like breakfast and lunch but I’ll try my best.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too, Peaches.”

Follow-up to this story: My Little Strawberry

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁

[General Fanfiction (Everything), Henry Fanfiction, August Walker, Bright Like The Moon]

[sofasoap]

Come back to me.

Pairing : John Price x F!Reader ( Oc/Mini MacTavish)

summary: You share a pre-mission ritual and farewell with your husband before heading off into danger.

part of the Mini MacTavish verse.

After Little swallow

Warning: Mature. Age gap warning.

not Beta'ed. I am sick with pandemic virus. BAHHHH. brain not 100% ( it's never been 100%)

A/N : Inspired from @captainpriceslover post of Barry Sloane as Joe "Bear" Graves patting himself checking his gear.

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

“Got everything?”

Price opened his eyes, finding you standing in front of him, waiting.

You notice he always has this interesting pre mission ritual,  closing his eyes, mumbling to himself, patting up and down, making sure all the gears and equipment are in place.  

“I am not sure, why don’t you double check it for me?” he smirked.

“Gladly. Hmm. Got your boonie hat on. Can’t forget that.” Slowly from top of his head, down to his face, you gently caress his beard. “ You need to have a good trim when you come back.”

“I know love.”

Moving down towards his vest, taking extra care he has his emergency kits with him. Patting his side, silently ask him to turn around,

“Not going to check down there?”

“Hush. be patient.” You shushed him as you gave a light tap on his rear side. “ Happy?”

He chuckled. “That will be sufficient for the moment.” He turned around, pulling you as close to him as possible without making you uncomfortable with the vest. “ Until I come back.”

“You better make it back in one piece. Along with the boys.” You whispered as you lean in, resting your forehead against his.

“I will always come back to you.” He replied.

“There is no guarantee in that.” you murmured, with a hint of sorrow.

“I know, I know love.”

Taking his dog tag out from the pocket, you gave it a light kiss before putting it around his neck, tucking it safely under his top.

“Just hoping Nikolai won’t throw any of you out the halo this time round.”

“It’s hard to say. But a kiss from Lady Fortuna,” he pecked you on the mouth, “ I am sure we stay in this time.”

“Even Lady Fortuna nearly died from it.” You grumbled.

“Still holding grudges against him?”

“... No.”

Shaking his head before giving you a deep kiss, as if his life is dependent on it before pulling away.

“Ready for action, Captain Price?”

“Always, Doctor MacTavish.”

With that, both of you march out of the tent, switching into soldier and medic mode, ready for whatever the enemies throws at you.

This becomes a ritual for both of you before mission starts, if SAS/SpecGru had joint mission with KorTac until both of you retired from frontline.

and Price doesn't dare tell you how many near misses he had (aka Nikolai flying around like crazy) .

[southernbluebellereader]

Routines

Part 2

COD MW2 Taskforce 141 x F! Southern Hair Dresser Reader - Not the same as the Southern Cook Reader

Captain John Price, Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, Sergeant Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x F! Southern Hair Dresser Reader (COD MW(2))

Warnings: Suggestive actions/language. Slight bullying.

Word Count: ~2,015

Summary: Y/N opened up a little salon close to the base where the Taskforce 141 are stationed and there is now a platonic relationship between them and it's always fun bringing in rookies for their first hair cut.

Master List

Tag List At The Bottom

“Alright, y’all, line up,” Y/N beckoned the men of Taskforce 141 to enter her little salon. She’d never thought that opening up a salon close to a military base would be a good way to do business. It was always fun when the new recruits came in at the beginning of basic training. When she first opened up her salon, it was a little overwhelming for her and her two coworkers, but after a while, they got a hang of it. There was an unspoken deal between some of the higher-ups of the base that they all come to her little salon for haircuts. It was also fun seeing groups of soldiers who’d just come back from a mission - especially long ones - enter her salon in an attempt to shed the very last thing from a mission.

Soap kept rubbing his head as he raised his hand, “Can I go first, Y/N?” 

Chuckling, Y/N called him over, “C’mon, Johnny, have a seat.” Soap nearly jumped into her chair and allowed her to put the cape around him, “What we doin’ today, soldier?”

“Me usual, please.” Soap nodded as Y/N pulled out her clippers and turned them on. Price and Gaz were seated in the waiting area closest to Y/N’s booth. After a few minutes, Y/N pulled out a little fluffy brush and brushed off excess hair from Soap’s shoulders, and removed the cape from his body, “Whatchu think, big man?”

He leaned forward and examined himself in the mirror, then smiled, “Looks great! Thanks, Y/N!”

“Aight, get up on out of ‘ere,” Y/N swept some of the hair on the floor and looked over at Price and Gaz, “Who’s next?” Soap left the chair and pulled out one of Y/N’s hand mirrors, looking at himself from every other angle as he walked over and sat beside Price.

Price pointed at Gaz, who was ready to go, “Hop up Mr. Garrick and tell me whatchu want?”

“Just the sides and a little on the top, yeah?”

“You betcha!” Y/N winked at Gaz through the mirror and did as she was told.

Once it was Price’s turn, he took his hat off and hung it on one of the hair dryers as he sat down. Y/N examined his hair and bear slightly as she covered him with a cape, “You gonna tell me why you tried to cut your own beard, Captain Price?”

Price chuckled and ran his hand through his beard, “Gotta do what you gotta do in the field. Tighten things up, will ya’?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Y/N did as she was told and sent him to the sink to get his hair washed. “Where’d y’all go this time? Somewhere sandy?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Price huffed slightly as he sat down and rested his head over her sink, waiting for Y/N to make sure the water wasn’t too hot.

“I do say that because I can see all the sand in your hair. Would it kill ya to do a quick rinse before y’all came here?”

“We’d put you out of a job, Y/N.”

“Yeah yeah,” Y/N finished washing and rinsing his hair - properly - then gently dried it with a towel. “Get back on up and have a seat, Cap. I got my work cut out for me.” Chuckling, Y/N began brushing through his hair with a comb, swiftly cutting and trimming his hair. Once finished, Price attempted to make his escape once she’d turned around.

“No sir! Sit your behind back down, I’m gon’ that bird’s nest on your face.” Y/N pointed at him and stared at him sternly until he sat back down, hearing him mumble under his breath as she came back with her shaving kit. “How you gonna let me fix the hair on your head and not the hair on your face?” Y/N shook her head as she prepped her shaving brush and shaving bowl.

“Oh, you know how I am with my beard.”

“That’s the thing, I do know how you are with your beard. Which is why I shave it so well. Now hush and sit still, Cap’n.”

Doing as he was told, Price held his tongue while watching her cheekily, lifting his chin to allow her to apply shaving cream on his face, then allowing her to hold her manual beard shaver next to his skin.

After carefully shaving Price’s beard to his liking, she removed his cape and allowed him to examine himself in the mirror, “How’d I do, sir?”

“Splendid.”

Price pulled out his wallet but was stopped by Y/N, “Not today Captain. Y’all just got back.”

“You can’t possibly be serious, Y/N, let me pa-”

“I said no!” Y/N shook her head and urged him to put his wallet back, “Again, y’all just got back. This is on me.”

Price shook his head and did as he was told, “Yeah you say that every time we come up here. How are you still in business?”

“I have my ways, Captain.” Y/N watched as he rounded Gaz and Soap up and thanked her as they headed out. Price remained for her usual question at the end of every haircut they came for: “Simon coming in later?”

Price’s answer would always be the same: “No doubt in my mind.” And he’d tip his hat and wink at her before heading out.

—

A few hours later, just before closing, Simon would enter Y/N’s little salon as she was sweeping, the little bell above her door signifying his presence. Y/N would always be the one to open and the one to close her shop, to take him in and allow for privacy. The blinds would be half closed so she could still see the outside, but would cover enough so that Simon’s face would still remain a mystery. Simon Riley. It was hard getting him into the salon. Unless he done messed up his hair, real bad. Or he needed new razors to shave. It wasn’t until he came in with a pack of rookies who needed buzz cuts, scratching his face through his mask that she demand he comes back before closing so she could properly cut his hair.

“Simon! ‘Bout time you showed up,” Y/N put her broom up and watched as he took his mask off, revealing disheveled hat - or mask - hair and a scruffy jaw, “We doin’ full-service today?”

Giving her a small nod, he allowed her to usher him to the sink and gave him a towel to wrap around his shoulders as he sat down in the chair in front of the sink, leaning his head and neck down to the sink.

“I’m going to turn the water on Simon, you aight with me washing your hair?” Y/N knew to speak softly around him when he came alone. She’d never imagined that she’d be the go-to hairdresser for the military, but she was glad she could give something to look forward to in order to renew themselves from what they’d seen. With Simon, it was different though. She’d heard all sorts of stories about him - she couldn’t keep track of them all - but he was different from the rest.

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes as he heard the water turn on. Y/N felt the water and waited until it was lukewarm before she gently began to wash his hair. Sand and dirt left his hair as she rinsed his hair. Washing his hair was one of the few things that would indicate where he’d been on a mission. This time it was most likely somewhere warm and sandy.

“I’m going to shampoo your hair, Simon, you ok?” Y/N smiled slightly as he stirred, giving her a slight nod. Asleep, are we now? She pumped some shampoo into her hands and gently scrubbed his head, earning a soft groan. Must’ve been a rough mission for him to be this tired.

Once finished, she ushered him to her chair and began the silent haircut. Y/N learned quickly that Simon wasn’t much of a talker, but she was fine with that. Until she put on her radio and he’d ask her to change the channel or change the song. Or if the tv was on, he’d ask her to change the channel or put on a particular channel.

“You want a shave, today?”

“Please?” Y/N worked swiftly. He liked that. But he enjoyed the time he was there. It allowed him to almost forget himself for a moment. It made him almost forget his job. It made him almost forget the life he’s had and that he currently has. He could care less about the haircut and the shave, the simple act of having someone else wash his hair was comforting.

“All done, Lieutenant.” Y/N tapped his shoulder and removed the cape from his body and dusted the remaining hair from his shoulders. Unlike the rest of her clients, Simon would watch her instead of examining his hair. She found it awkward at first and did her best to ignore it. She eventually got used to it. For Simon to trust her to cut his hair was an honor. She doesn’t know what sort of life Simon had growing up, or even what he does as soon as he left her salon, but she felt honored still.

She took a step back and allowed the large man to stand up. “How much d’I owe you?”

“On the house, Simon.” Y/N threw the cape and the towels in a bin to be washed and dried overnight. 

“Nah.” Simon gave her a half smile and pulled out a wad of cash wrapped with a rubber band. The amount, plus tip, would cover his haircut, and the rest of his team’s haircut. He placed it on the counter by her register as he walked out. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“You bringing me them rookies up in here?”

Simon waved his hand as he walked out, ignoring her question. Y/N smiled as she finished looking up, “These men kill me.”

—

“Youse a rookie, you ain’t got a choice,” Y/N switched the end pieces of her electric razor as the next rookie looked at her cocky, demanding a particular haircut. Y/N chuckles as she turned the electric razor on, earning a gulp from the rookie in her chair.

Y/N and her two co-workers firmly enjoyed it when a fresh batch of rookies would arrive at her salon at eight in the morning - sharp.

Soap and Kyle would take turns bringing in a batch of rookies while Simon stood watch, keeping things in check. Occasionally he’d walk between Y/N and coworkers, jokingly reminding them that they missed a spot to get a rise out of the rookie in the chair.

Every so often he’d call out: “Don’t make me remind you to say your thanks once these ladies finish their job.” This caused constant repetitions of:

“Yes, sir!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Thank you, ma’am!.”

If a rookie felt bold enough to make conversation with one of the hairdressers, especially Y/N, trying to chat their way into a more stylish haircut, Simon would stand next to him, uncomfortably close to them, arms crossed, and simply tower over him.

Honestly, it scared Y/N in the beginning, until he started talking. “You sure you want that, rooks?”

Then he’d lean down and his masked face would be just about three inches away from the young soldier, rendering him still, speechless, and filled with fear.

Chuckling, Y/N began her work on the young soldier’s head, “I done told you not to say anything, sweetheart.”

Part of her felt bad, especially in the beginning. Until the same soldiers came back from basic training for a trim, coming back as changed men. And as they continued with their service, she’d gotten to know them and every hair cut would serve as a reminder of home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[corner-stories]

30, nightgown with Jean and Pieck?

September Prompts 🌻

30. Nightgown Post-Rumbling Ambassador shenanigans because why not?

The bathroom on the vessel is just like the rest of the ship — constricting, utilitarian, and made with barely any elbow room. In his time as an Ambassador, Jean has seen many rooms just like it, but this might be the first time he's seen a shower head placed nearly above the toilet.

But nonetheless, it's enough room for him to comfortably bathe, though with the caveat that he must stand completely straight and remain unflinching under a stream of cold water.

In the midst of the night he turns off the shower and steps out. After patting himself dry, Jean wraps his towel around his waist and crosses the floor of the bathroom with a single step. He wipes steam off the mirror above the sink, a surface that is barely wide enough to show him his reflection.

As he slicks his hair back, Jean gets a good look at the current state of his stubble. At the moment it looks closer to a short beard than fashionable scruff. He's unsure if it's a side-effect of all the travelling he had done in the last month alone, or a sign that he's truly gotten lazy in matters of personal grooming.

It only takes a few seconds of observing the beard on his face for Jean to reach for his shaving kit. With the puck of soap and brush, he creates a suitable lather with the frigid faucet water. After applying the suds to his face, he reaches for his safety razor — a nifty contraption that he finds much preferable to a straight blade — and goes through a process he has performed dozens of time.

Though tonight Jean finds himself deviating from his usual routine, as he finds the motivation to remove the hair on his cheeks and chin, but not that above his lips. For what reasons he doesn't know, but what he does know is that it's been a while since his beard had been this long and something inside of him feels like experimenting.

When Jean finishes perfecting his new look, he rinses his face and changes into his nightclothes. Once he's dressed he leaves the bathroom with his toiletry bag in hand, a towel slung over his shoulder, and a style of facial hair he had yet to try in his twenty-something years of life.

When Jean opens the door and steps into the ship's narrow passageway, he is abruptly met with one of his fellow Ambassadors.

Suddenly Pieck is standing in front of him, clad in a white nightgown that goes beyond her knees and holding a similar toiletry bag. It's no surprise what she's doing at this time of night, unless ghostly-looking sleepwear and little nifty washkits have suddenly become the latest fashion.

Pieck looks just as startled as he is when she sees him emerge from the bathroom.

"Oh, hey," Pieck starts, then barely a second passes before she notices something rather different about her comrade. Her eyebrow quirks up. "What the hell's on your face?"

Jean frowns, but strokes his newly-trimmed moustache rather protectively. "Thought I'd try something different."

"You thought you'd tape a dying squirrel to your upper lip?" Pieck scoffs. Judging by the look on her face she's not appalled by the 'stache, but more confused. "You look like someone named Francis."

Jean sighs. "I'm experimenting, okay?"

"Experimenting with what?" Pieck laughs. Suddenly she shifts from 'mocking mode' to 'sincerity mode,' though with someone like her those two modes tend to blur the lines.

"Come on, none of us have been on active duty in years, you don't have to look like a first lieutenant in the army anymore," Pieck says in a voice that is as sweet as it is sarcastic.

Jean grumbles. In the mirror his little moustache looked alright — he hadn't been able to make the ends twirl upwards, but he was able to make it look presentable in a way that fit with his life of suits, ties, and peace talks.

But seeing Pieck so easily mock his look makes him think otherwise.

"Okay, good night, Pieck," he ends up saying in place of anything more snappy. At this point of the evening, he only has so much energy left in his system.

He walks past Pieck, wondering if his facial hair might look a lot better in the morning.

"Good night!" Pieck repeats back at him. "Hope that moustache didn't use up all the hot water."

"Ha!" Jean guffaws, then turns around to give her a sardonic look. "Bold of you to assume we even had any in the first place."

[resowrites]

The Waves - oneshot.

Summary: Henry struggles with the concept of personal space…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, slight sexy talk, dialogue heavy, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 1537

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

The Waves - oneshot.

She was nearing the end of her magazine when a knock on the bathroom door jolted her to attention. Henry barged in without waiting for a reply. "Er, what do you think you're doing? I'm trying to have a bath here!"

"I know but you've been ages and it's getting late, I need a shave--"

"Tough shit, use the other bathroom--"

"I can't, the light doesn't work, what am I meant to do?" She sighed and closed her magazine.

"Wait till morning and use daylight? Or just shave in the dark, you look at yourself in the mirror so bloody much I'm sure you'll manage. Now get out." He plonked his shaving kit in the sink and folded his arms. The grin on his face could only be described as wicked. 

"... Why are you covering yourself?" His head gestured towards the arm pressed across her chest.

"Er, cos I'm naked?!" Henry laughed.

"So?"

"So, I feel... exposed." He laughed harder.

"Exposed?! I'm not a bloody stranger! Though I must admit, it's been a while since I got a good look at ya..." Henry tilted his head to try and get a glimpse of her lower half through the bubbles.

"Oh my God, will you please leave!"

"Why?! 

"Cos I'm trying to have a fucking bath! In peace!" 

"Yeah and you've had one, it's called compromise! Or did you skip that article in your magazine so you could look at shoes?" 

"No, but if you want I'll show you the one about finding a fucking g-spot. Now go-- wait a minute, you're not shaving off your whole beard?"

"Yeah, why?" He stood with the shaver hovering above his jawline.

"But... you'll be all scratchy." 

"I thought you wanted me to shave!" 

"Yeah but not all of it, I don't wanna be able to see your whole face..." 

"Why not? I get better looking every day..." Henry then kissed the mirror causing her to roll her eyes. "There, how's this length..." He turned and ducked slightly so she could see the square patch of trimmed hair.

"I don't care anymore, just hurry up."

"Aww, what's the matter?" She ignored him and resumed reading. "You know, there's something so mysterious about the g-spot, I just can't put my finger on it..." She held the magazine higher and bit her lip, refusing to join in Henry's laughter. "Why are you getting all arsey?! Is this about what happened earlier?" She shot daggers in his direction though he'd already resumed shaving.

"Oh, you mean when we were walking along the beach and you not only pulled me too close to the surf but then used me as a human shield so I got soaked by that massive wave instead?"

"Well you don't have a problem taking a bath for hours--"

"And how else am I supposed to prevent pneumonia?!" 

"Oh my poor little poppet, here let's make you all comfy..." Henry gathered up a hand towel and placed it carefully under her head as a pillow. "There now, would you like something to drink as well? Maybe some crisps and nuts?" He kept a straight face, which only riled her up further. "But do me a favour and free those titties, eh? Let 'em rise up to greet me--"

"That's it, out. Now."

"But I'm not finished!"

"Then spend less time tanning yourself with your own reflection and hurry up." Henry returned to the mirror and waited a beat.

"OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT SPIDER!!!" She shot up screaming, causing her to drop the magazine in the bath and send water cascading over the side.

"YOU FUCKING MORON--" she quickly fished out the magazine and chucked it straight at him. "Why did you do that?! Christ, one of these days I'll have a fucking heart attack... and what am I meant to read now?" Henry struggled to respond he was laughing so hard.

"I thought I saw a spider alright?! Here read this--" he winged a shampoo bottle towards her.

"Right, I've had enough. Piss off and go tend to my daughter - who's probably been left all alone in her pen."

"Fear not Big Ollie, Little Ollie's curled up next to Kal, fast asleep--"

"Will you stop calling us that?! This morning she went racing up the stairs when you called down to me, it's making her confused!"

"Well what else do I call her then if she's just as dopey as you?! I mean, I suppose I could abbreviate... what about Bollie and Lollie?" Henry could see her nostrils flare.

"Lollie's-- I mean Copper's," he grinned, "not dopey thank you very much. She's not even six months old and knows most of her commands as well as how to play hide and seek. So up yours." 

"Oh yeah? Well if she's that smart why does she keep hiding in the same spot behind the sofa? And how is she your daughter if Kal is our son? I bought them both--"

"Those are good questions, why don't you ponder them on your way out?" Henry smiled lovingly at her exasperated reflection in the glass and began trimming the other side of his face. A minute or two passed in peaceful silence. 

"You know... we can try for a baby if you want to?" Her head snapped toward him.

"What?! Where did that come from?"

"Nowhere, it's just... you were so thrilled with Copper I thought I'd make sure you knew the option was there." 

"Are you... telling me you wanna be a dad-dad now?" Henry could see her wheels turning and the look of worry on her face. 

"Hey don't get all in your head, I just didn't want you to miss out if you'd changed your mind, that's all." She cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly.

"Henry I... I still don't think it's a good idea. I mean besides it being a terrible thing to unleash on humanity; my body would change, our relationship would change, and you'd have to scale back on work as well. I couldn't raise a baby and carry on working mostly alone--" he shushed her gently.

"Darling, none of that matters, I promise. And of course I'd be here for you. In fact I've decided to scale back on work anyway..." His words hung in the air for a moment or so.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm just... sick of running myself into the ground, you know? And for what? I enjoy what I do but I don't have anything more to prove and I've made enough money. I want to focus more on us--"

"But we both know that's not how it works. The less you do the less you're likely to be offered, and then you'll just end up resenting me." Henry stepped over to the sink to rinse his face and then folded down the toilet lid so he could take a seat.

"Don't be daft. This last month with you here has been one of the happiest of my life," she quickly blushed, "why wouldn't I want more of that? I'm not talking about retiring, just filming over here more and not being away so much. I'll be forty this year and I'm starting to feel it, I can't keep going like a ploughhorse forever." She eyed him carefully.

"Well it's your decision, love. You know I'll support you in anything you decide to do. But please make sure you're doing this for yourself. I don't think it's likely that I'll change my mind about having kids..." Henry smiled reassuringly.

"That's fine darling, really. You already know I'd prefer not to share you. I'm now battling two Akitas for your attention, add a baby into the mix and I don't think I could cope with the neglect," she rolled her eyes again, "anyway we've got enough to do at the moment. I was gunna start writing my vows later..."

"What? Henry, we are not writing our own wedding vows--"

"Why not?!"

"Really? I have to explain that one, do I?" He smirked.

"Well what about our honeymoon? I know I've got to return to filming in the summer but we'll still have time for a decent one." Henry got up and turned on the bath's hot tap to reheat the water for her. "Any more ideas where you'd like to go? We also don't have to go home tomorrow if you're not ready?"

"Why would I not be ready?"

"I dunno... you just seem more settled here." 

"Nah, it's fine love, honestly. We need to get back." She considered him for a moment as he gently swirled the water around her ankles. "... You know I love you, don't you? Even though I can now see the arse on your chin that matches the one on your nose..." Henry grinned and ducked down beside her.

"Is that right, Bollie?" She ignored the egregious new nickname and beckoned him closer for a kiss. A load of water suddenly flew into Henry's face. He jumped to his feet coughing and spluttering.

"That's for soaking me at the beach you little shit," he then quickly whipped off his clothes, "wait, what are you doing?!"

"Well I might as well join you now--" 

"HENRY NOOO--"

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[abarbaricyalp]

Written for the @samsseptember prompt: On The Run (kind of) // Rated E CW: shaving with a straight razor, no injury but continuous mention of the razor // 3.8k words // Read on AO3

The Closest Shave (Excerpt)

Sam held the straight razor gently, examining the blade and all the familiar knicks in the wood handle.

“That thing looks older than me,” Steve said with a playful trepidation as Sam continued to fiddle with it.

“It might be,” he humored because he knew this was all a diversion tactic. He pretended to sharpen the blade on a discarded piece of Steve’s suit before he handed it over. “It was my grandpa’s. First thing he ever bought. Gave it to my dad, and I got it when I turned sixteen. Other kids got cars but…” He shrugged like the razor didn’t mean the world to him, like he hadn’t brought it with him to the end of the world. He was pretty sure none of his classmates could say that about their early aughts cars.

“Your grandpa had good taste,” Steve said. When he caught sight of the shaving cream and brush again, he attempted to worm an arm around Sam’s waist and tug him into a kiss. When that didn’t work, he begrudgingly lifted his face up to give Sam room to work. Such a drama king.

Sam pushed Steve’s hair back from his face, thought about telling him a trim was next but shelved it for another day, and instead cupped Steve’s jaw to kiss him. “I inherited it. The good taste,” he said, just to see Steve smile, which he did.

“How did I ever get this lucky?” he asked.

“I’m at a total loss,” he answered with a grin. “By all accounts, it doesn’t add up.” He dabbed out some pre-shave oil–that was new to the kit, but that didn’t matter–and slowly worked it against Steve’s beard. Sam knew the texture of Steve’s hair in and out and all the way through. He knew how it felt when it was clean and when it was wet and when it was sweaty and when it was greasy. He knew how humid it had to be before it started to curl at the nape of his neck. He knew how his beard grew in slowly and then all at once and how coarse each day was.

Truly, Steve’s beard shouldn’t be less coarse than Sam’s, but Sam took care of his facial hair and Steve decidedly did not. Which was infuriating, especially to Sam’s thighs. The oil seemed more necessary for Steve than it did for Sam some days. It was odd to brush it through a long beard too. Sam hadn’t grown his beard out to any kind of length before. He didn’t need a lot of oil to soak into it and soothe his skin. Steve’s hair felt like wading through a jungle. Not that Sam was going to say as much because he’d just gloat about it for ages.

“You know,” Steve said, when Sam leaned around him to rinse his fingers off and let the oil sit, “if you keep this up, I’ll never shave myself again.”

“I’ll shave your eyebrows off if you don’t behave,” Sam threatened lightly. He stepped between Steve’s legs and took a second to just appreciate the man in front of him, with his twinkling eyes and easy smile. A bruise was already mostly faded from around his cheekbone, just a memory and a slight line from where the cowl dug into his cheek. “Actually, maybe I won’t see this through,” he said.

“Oh?” Steve asked, rubbing circles into Sam’s hip bones with his thumbs. The simple motion alone was better than any full massage Sam had ever gotten.

“Yeah, your mouth is really pink like this.”

“How pink?” Steve asked. Then slowly licked his lips like the teasing bastard he was.

Sam pitched forward a little unsteadily, aware of the oil in Steve’s beard but completely incapable of caring about it, and pressed his mouth against Steve’s gently until Steve opened up beneath him, hooked his legs over Sam’s hips and tugged him in closer. It made Sam’s body lit up and flush to life all over again, his heart tripping in his chest at the encompassing adoration he had for the other man. And the reciprocating devotion that was pouring out of Steve too and sinking into Sam’s bones down to his very soul. In another life… God, in another life, this could be every Sunday morning.

“That pink, huh?” Steve asked when Sam pulled back again.

“Behave,” Sam warned once more. The glint in Steve’s eyes said he was well aware that Sam was the one misbehaving, but he didn’t argue.

He unhooked his legs from Sam’s waist and sat up again, tilted his head back without being asked. He even held still as Sam painted on shaving cream. It had been a while since Sam had really used the brush and thicker cream. He couldn’t remember ever shaving someone else. Certainly never like this, with his grandpa’s razor and Steve’s knees bracketing his bare hips, hands warm and grounding against his skin. He was beginning to wonder just how he’d been so lucky too.

“This is really makin’ me feel like a dumb kid again, wasting money to get shaved at a barbershop instead’a just doin’ it myself.”

“Could you even grow facial hair before the serum?” Sam teased back. “Besides–” He finished spreading the cream on the brush over Steve’s cheek and then dragged it over his bare thigh slowly. “If you were getting this kind of treatment back then, the history books need a few revisions.”

Steve laughed, smile and eyes bright as he looked at Sam. “No, sir, you do know how to make it special for a guy.”

Sam gently wiped away shaving cream that was too close to his mouth. “Keep those pearls put away, soldier,” he teased gently. “Might drive a man to distraction.” He kept working, focused on covering Steve’s beard without excess.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve continued. “Have I told you recently?”

“Not recently enough.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated. “How did I get this lucky?”

Sam brushed cream over the tip of Steve’s nose and rolled his eyes. “Eyes forward, you ain’t sweet-talkin’ your way out of this one.”

Steve obliged comically, schooling his expression forward for two/tenths of a second before he leaned over to kiss Sam’s shoulder, which got shaving cream everywhere.

[princess-of-the-corner]

You're 100% right. So now a headcannon about Hawks has invaded my mind. He's really good at sewing and always keeps a sewing kit on hand. While he's known for being fast him having a hobby all about patience and deep concentration really vibes with me. He keeps repairing his plush when he can.

see now I'm imagining it in like.

He has the plushie hidden. But it's starting to get a tear. How does he get the material to fix it?

Asking his handlers to put sewing lessons on his list of activities would be weird. Why does he need to know how to sew? Maybe eventually he can get them to agree that pretending he has hobbies outside of work will help his popularity but would they allow for something like sewing?

His first repairs are not with needle and thread meant for fabric. They're meant for surgery. Much easier to convince his handlers to teach him how to stitch himself up mid-battle. A needle and some thread goes missing(he doesn't dare take a whole spool).

It's a little off, the thread a bit scratchy. But it works well enough. Keeps the stuffing from falling out at least.

Once he's an adult, once he can sneak away a touch and have five seconds to himself without a handler scrutinizing his moves, he manages to get his hands on an actual sewing kit. Just a small, pocket-sized one. All he needs, really. He re-does the repairs he made.

He actually cries when the plushie's beard falls off. He didn't think he could cry for real anymore given all he's been through but for some reason that gets to him. He sews it back on as carefully as he can. The beard might be a touch trimmed but it's there still.

(He laughs a few days later. Having known the Real Endeavor for a bit now, and finally getting a chance to see his face when he's turned off the flames.).