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writersdrug · 2 months ago

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I NEED waitress!reader accidentally letting it slip that she’s got a date after her shift and so when bartender!simon overhears, he suddenly has a list of things she needs to do after work, causing her get to stay late ))): missing her date ))):

ANGST TIME

He's been watching you like a hawk for the past two hours - and rightfully so. You've been rushing through your tasks, rolling more than enough silverware, keeping your tables happy and stocked - you somehow managed to convince Soap to mop front of house for you. He doesn't like it. Why are you trying to get away?

"Got a date tonight." You tell him, skimming through your receipts as you sit at the bar and calculate your tips. You're not off the clock yet - you still have thirty minutes left. But the restaurant's empty, and all your tasks are done. Your makeup is a little nicer today, softer and less "morning after a deftones concert".

Simon's thankful for the mask, or else his frown would be impossible to miss. Is he dumb? Haven't you been flirting with him all week? Was this another one of your games, pretending to act innocent and coy, messing with him, then announcing you're going out with someone else?!

He feels his shoulders tensing as he watches you tap away at your phone's calculator. He shouldn't be so bothered by this - some things just need to be let go. But he can't. He wants to keep you in his back pocket, or in an empty whiskey bottle on his liquor shelf - not the one behind the bar, but the personal collection in his room on the third floor.

"That's nice," he grumbles, slicing through a lime. "Jus' make sure you finish your chores 'fore you head out."

"Already did!" You chirp at him with a smile. "Just need to do my tips, and I'll be done."

"Did ya clean the ice bins?" He asks.

You furrow your brow. "Huh?"

He jerks his head to the whiteboard on the wine fridge - sure enough, your name is scribbled in, right next to "drain and wash/sanitize ice bins + buckets", along with today's date.

You look back at Simon, your expression now crestfallen. Your date is in an hour, and you still have twenty minutes on your shift. "Don't you usually do it?"

Truthfully, he does. He could do it today, in fact. But his brain is acting on thoughts before he has the chance to consider the consequences. "Can't today, luv. Preppin' for a bigger crowd tomorrow."

Your shoulders slump. "How long does it take?"

"Well, you got to turn 'em off - one by one, I can't have two empty ice bins durin' a shift - then ya dump the ice, wait for 'em to warm up, then ya go in there with soap n' a rag, rinse 'em out, then-"

"God, can this please wait until tomorrow? I'll come in early and do it, I promise."

He looks at you sternly, and you suddenly feel ashamed for asking. "Wot, so I can pay you overtime?"

"Simon, please - if you do them, I'll give you half my tips for today."

"Now y' dumpin' your work on me?"

"I've got a date!"

"I've got my own shit too!"

You snap your mouth shut. He's never been this stern with you, but you know it's well deserved. It's your chore, after all. You'd been wrong to assume he would do it himself, despite that being the usual. You quickly hop out of the barstool and make your way behind the bar, unplugging the first icebin.

Simon watches as you scurry around, running to and from the ice bin into the kitchen, filling up bucket after bucket of ice and dumping it into the sink in the back. You pace as the machine warms up, glancing at your phone every few minutes, then touching the inside of the ice maker to check the temperature. After a few minutes, you're scrubbing the machine as fast as you can with a soapy rag and a bucket of sanitizer eater next to you.

Twenty minutes have gone by. You're supposed to be on your way to your date, but you're biting your lip, staring angrily at the ice machine as it cools down again. You need to wait for it to be cold before you refill it with ice, and only then can you start on the other machine.

You make another attempt towards Simon. "If I just do one tonight and do the other in the morning-"

"No." Simon snaps, his eyes angry as he drops a container of sliced fruit onto the bar. "This is part of havin' a job."

You look away from him, tears stinging your eyes now. You're so frustrated you want to snap back at him - but he's right, isn't he? Maybe you could ask him if you could just call Max and let him know you'll be running late - but the thought of asking Simon for anything right now (other than more chores) makes you queasy.

Simon doesn't know where the anger came from, but it's still simmering. He watches as you continue to run back and forth, filling up the old ice bin, unplugging the second one, dumping the ice in the back... he's refilling the bloody Mary mix and restocking the bitters. Simple things. He's got nothing to do after this besides go up to his flat and sit in front of the telly, or maybe chat with Soap before he heads home. Why didn't he just do it? Because you had a date, and that was a problem for him. Why? Now you're upset, and it's that knowledge that makes him finally feel the shame that he'd been swallowing down.

You finish dumping the last bucket of ice into the second machine. It's forty minutes after your shift ended. You still have to get to the restaurant you and Max were meeting at, which is a twenty minute walk. You were supposed to be there ten minutes early - now you're going to be an hour late. Frustration mingles with anxiety and burns in the forefront of your mind. But you can't be mad. You should've done your job.

Simon doesn't say anything when you run to the back, your phone pressed to your ear and tears in your eyes. You barely manage a wave to Soap as you grab your bag and jacket and flounder back into the restaraunt. You don't look at Simon.

"I'm leaving now, I'm so sorry- I had to finish up at work and it too longer than I-" you slowed to a walk, then a stop, standing in the middle of the floor. Simon was frozen, watching your shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had-... it's not an excuse, I promise I'm-... listen, we can go for a walk or something, right? Or go get fast food, someplace still open, just you and me, and we can try again another-"

His eyes burn in his skull as he watches you stand there for a few more seconds, staring at your phone as the call disappears from the screen. He wants to say something - but what can he say? He's already fucked you over. And he doesn't feel any better than when he first discovered your little date. He feels worse.

You stuff your phone in your back pocket, unable to hide the single, choked sob that escapes your throat. You shoulder your bag and stomp your way out of the restaurant, door clanging behind you. Your bike is still in the alley out back, and your unfinished tips are still on the bartop. He wouldn't be surprised if you never come back to collect them.

Soap emerges from the kitchen breaking Simon from his thoughts and wiping his hands on a rag. "Real feckin' kind of ye, Ghost. Never seen such a right cunt." He glares at Simon, before slapping the rag on the table and heading back into the kitchen. His shift was over, too.

Simon has three more hours left to deal with himself before the bar closes.

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader

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rosy-blossoms · 1 year ago

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Bedroom Wainscoting in Perth Large elegant master light wood floor and wainscoting bedroom photo with white walls and no fireplace

#high ceiling #hamptons style #lime wash timber floors #timber wall panelling #limewashed floor boards

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kirstenrenz · 1 year ago

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Wainscoting - Traditional Bedroom An illustration of a large, traditional master bedroom with a light wood floor, wainscoting, and no fireplace

#white duck #coloured glass fanlight #nood basin #lime wash timber floors #wall panelling #timber flooring #teal basin

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latiaranthrod · 2 years ago

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Enclosed Family Room Inspiration for a large rustic enclosed dark wood floor and gray floor family room remodel

#herringbone pattern #wood floors #lime wash #hardwood flooring #gray hardwood floor #hand rubbed oiled finish #wire brush

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sydneybusinessblog · 2 years ago

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SK Floor Sanding provides professional floor sanding, floor polishing, floor lime wash and floor staining services in Sydney. Our experienced team can also help you to repair the damaged floors. Contact us now for a free quote if you are looking for a reliable floor sanding team in Sydney.

#floor lime wash and floor stain sydney

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coupsiedaisee · 6 days ago

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pulse | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader

genre: smut, just smut alksjfdkgjhh

warnings: fingering, exhibitionism, kissing, drinking, like two mentions of weed lol sex?, i've never done warnings before ahh, fingering, voyeurism (sort of? not really?), kissing (is this a warning?), there's no p in v omg, so how do i tag this 😭, this is really short omg, i think fingering covers it, ohi! some drinking? neither of them are inibriated though. imo, would that make this dubcon? feel implicit to me. god sorry, im posting this when im drunk, v will wake up tmrw and tell me if this is dumb or not omg.

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: happy friend anniversary to the second love of my life 🥺v!!!! @hannieween, i love u so much so here's the first smut thing i've fully finished writing and also the first time i've published smut omg. i love you and i love cheol and i really hope this makes u both horny and happy and would love nothing more than if u feel anger (horny anger) after reading this, yay!! target demographic met! to everyone else reading this, pease let me know what u think! even if u hated it omg 🥺i want to know both what u liked and didn't like so my writing can become better. uwu ily all <3 also, again, im drunk, so if there's any grammar mistakes, ima fix it tmrw alksjdhkflhgbksdfgkjd. okay byeeee, enjoy!!!!

"Baby, are you done yet? She just texted that they parked," Seungcheol shouts from the living room.

"Coming!" You yell back, swiping the last bit of lipstick on and giving yourself a once over in the mirror.

Seungcheol's standing by the front door, looking up from his phone when you walk in. He rakes his eyes over you, the clear skin of your neck, down your collar bones, to the cleavage disappearing into your shirt. The sliver of skin between your tight shirt and mini skirt. The bare skin of your plush thighs.

You fidget under his gaze, "Is there something wrong? Do I need to go change?"

"God, no baby. You look—" he swallows hard, running a hand through his blond hair, "—you look hot."

A fierce blush blooms across your cheeks and you tuck you hair behind your ear. "Oh. I—thanks?" You clear your throat, "Y-you do too babe."

And he did. A tight black polo stretched across his pecs, its short sleeves snug around his biceps. Light wash jeans barely holding his thick thighs in.

You want to drop down to your knees, right then and there.

Seungcheol reaches his hand out and you take it. He pulls you in for a kiss, letting his free hand roam down your body, pushing your skirt up to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze.

You pull away first, smacking him lightly on the chest, "Seungcheol!"

He's got no shame though, as he pulls you out the door, laughing.

The two of your were not going far tonight. Just two floors down, to the apartment of a Joshua Hong. Long time friend of Seungcheol's, Joshua was having some friends over to look at the new vaccum he bought.

"It's got even better suction than the last one and the battery life lasts forever," says Joshua, showing off the lime green vaccum in the middle of his living room. Seungcheol's standing next to him with their other friend, Jeonghan. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, and his eyebrows furrowed as Joshua talks. Momo, Josh's next door neighbor, is crouched by the vaccum, eyeing its different attachments.

"How is it with pet hair?" She asks, and you feel that this is your cue to go grab another drink.

In the kitchen, Jeonghan's girlfriend is mixing some sort of concoction in a big punch bowl. She whips around at the sound of your footsteps, "There you are! Where have you been? I texted Seungcheol when we parked."

You send her a sheepish smile, "Got caught up on the new technology."

She rolls her eyes, "You lot are so boring."

"Trust me, you'll be the same once you're in the work force like us boring adults." You go to grab a cider from the fridge.

She scoffs waving her ladle in your direction, "Oi, pipe down Grandma. We're nearly the same age! You'll be sorry when I'm a professor. Don't make me give you detention."

You laugh, "Alright, alright. Don't fail me professor, clearly I was wrong. " You duck just as she swings the ladle at your head.

It doesn't take long until nearly everyone at the apartment is either drunk or baked. You don't know what she put in that bowl, but after seeing Momo passed out on the pool table, you were glad you stuck to your ciders.

You head back into the living room after cleaning up a spill in the hallway (whoever gave Jeonghan jaegerbombs, why?). Dino and Mingyu, Seungcheol's friends from school, are sprawled on the ground in front of the TV, Mario Kart forgotten, passing a lit joint between each other.

Seungcheol's sat back on the sofa, manspreading, and showing off his deliciously thick thighs, taking periodic sips of a Corona. He spots you across the room and you send him a shy smile.

Seungcheol motions at something with his eyes and you tilt your head at him, confused. He snaps his chin in a quick motion but you still don't understand and he lets out an exasperated breath. Settling further into the sofa, he pats his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, looking around the room, but no one's paying you all any attention.

Slowly you make you way to him and, once at his feet, he swiftly gets rid of the cider in your hand, pulling you into his lap with a low, "Come here, baby girl."

Your body heats up as his hands sit on your hips, fingertips grazing the sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt. Your skirt.

When you chose your outfit for today, you had felt good, confident even. You made a choice, to wear a new lingerie set you'd bought the other day. The thought was that, maybe, you and and your boyfriend would get up to some fun when you got back home.

But now, you'd never regretted something more. As Seungcheol adjusts you over his thighs, slotting one in between your legs, the fabric of his jeans rub against your delicate lace panties.

Your pussy pulsates and you've never been more embarassed. You will it to stop, but Seungcheol chooses that moment to dig his fingers into your hips, tensing his thigh, and your pussy throbs.

Little campfires breakout across your cheeks and you find yourself sinking back into Seungcheol's chest in shame. His breath fans across your ear, "Baby, why didn't you tell me you missed me." You can hear the smirk he's probably wearing, but even worse, you're sure he can feel the dampness pooling between your legs.

You should get up. But you know you can't. You know your wetness has seeped onto his jeans, leaving a dark spot, evidence of your need. Everyone would know.

His hands feel like they're burning into your hips, and he leans to press a sweet kiss to your exposed shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

You feel Seungcheol move, and then a blanket is draped over your lap, covering your entire bottom half from any onlookers. Though one look across the room told you not a single person was paying you two any mind.

Seungcheol rubs his hand back and forth over your tummy, the touch feeling like hot coals dragging across your skin. Back. Forth. Back. Forth

Then, his fingers slip past the waistband of your skirt.

You don't say anything as you feel his fingers skate across your clothed mound. When he finds your lips, he pushes down with two fingers. You suck in a breath and hold, mind going completely blank.

You should push his hand away. Scold him with a serious, Seungcheol!

But you don't.

Arousal flows out of you, staining his jeans. Evidence of your want, no, your need for your boyfriend.

Seungcheol, the devil he is, starts rubbing the slowest, most languid, circles, smirking into your neck when you start squirming in his lap.

"If you don't like it, you can just get up and leave baby," he whispers, nipping at your ear lobe.

You subtly shake your head no, worried that if you open your mouth, the most obscene sound would come out.

Seungcheol uses his other hand to pull at your thigh, spreading your legs further apart. He pushes your barely there panty aside and plunges a finger in. Your breath hitches at the sensation and your eyes flit around the room, but no one is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol starts to pump his finger at a torturous pace and you try to keep your breathing even. He ghosts his lips up your neck, whispering, "Can you handle one more baby?" You shake your head with a quick no, biting down on your bottom lip.

Seungcheol's finger freezes and a low whine escapes your lips.

You move your hips just a little bit, chasing what little friction you could find, but Seungcheol tightens the hold on your thigh. "Seungcheol," You mean it to come out stern, but your voice is breathy and light.

"One more baby," Seungcheol nudges your neck with his nose and lets his teeth graze your skin. A shudder rolls through you as your pussy clenches around his single, slender finger.

You already know you've lost. You need Seungcheol to make you feel as full as possible. You nod shyly.

"Hmm?" Seungcheol says quietly, "I need to hear you baby." You can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yes," You breathe out, looking around again to see not a single person paying attention. Seungcheol pushes his second finger in and you bite your lip again to stop the moan that nearly comes out.

Your breathing gets heavier as he curls his fingers just how you like it and your thighs start to tremble as you near your peak. "Are you close baby?" You nod as your fingers grab at the blanket in your lap. He continues to curl his fingers, a little faster now.

Your breathing turns into little whimpers that you try to keep down, but to no avail.

Seungcheol whispers one last, sweet, "Let go for me love," and you're cumming, releasing all over his fingers as he lets you ride them through your high before pulling out.

You hear the pop! of him sucking the taste of you off his fingers and you feel your juices leaking out, soaking into his jeans. You lean your head back onto him, eyes squeezed shut, out of embarrassment or pleasure you don't know.

"Good girl," Seungcheol whispers, rubbing a warm hand over your tummy, and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. "You did so well for me, baby."

a/n: omg okay. this whole this was started because my lovely lovely v asked me do you think he'd be the type to sit you down on his lap to feel your pulse through your pussy? so this is really ur fault love sldjfsldfgldkzfgjdzfgkjdzfklhgb. let me know ur thoughts lovies!!!!!!!!!

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #title: pulse #daisee.writes #band: seventeen #member: seungcheol #joshua #jeonghan #dino #mingyu #seungcheol smut

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stardust-swan · 6 months ago

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Secrets to the Arabian Princess Scent 💐🧴🪷

So with Arab perfumes becoming popular in the West due to their strong projection and beautiful smell, and the Arab world becoming known for our knowledge on how to smell good af, I (a half Moroccan) am going to reveal some other ways we ensure we smell amazing to the girlies on Tumblr who are interested in Arab perfumes or just in generally smelling amazing 😍 Most tips are Moroccan but many apply to the Arab world in general (under the cut because this turned into a long post) ✨💞💐

1) Good Eating Habits: When my mother moved here to Europe, she was immediately struck by how the people seemed to smell like "pig." And that's no coincidence. You are what you eat, so coming from a country where nobody eats pig to one where everyone eats it, of course you're going to be struck by people smelling like it from the inside out. Not just that, but in the Arab world, it's also way less common for people to eat takeout and drink alcohol, whereas in many parts of the West, these things are a normal part of many people's diets and affects their natural scent. A lot of Arabs have also talked about how Westerners smell like "milk," and this is because Westerners tend to consume more dairy products than people in the East do. It's also common for Arabs to eat fruit as dessert instead of having cakes or cookies all the time (although speaking of cookies and cakes, the scents of rosewater, orange blossom water, almonds, honey, vanilla, oranges and lemons commonly used in Arab baking fill up the house with a wonderful smell while they're baking). Teas made from various herbal infusions are popular throughout the Arab world. Spearmint, peppermint, sage, cardamom, cinnamon, hibiscus, chamomile, anise, and thyme are commonly used to flavor tea in MENA. Dried lime tea is drunk in the Arabian Peninsula. Coffee flavoured with cardamom is also common. I especially like Turkish coffee. Spices like cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves are commonly used in cooking, and the scent of them can cling to your clothes and hair. Herbs like mint and parsley, which have natural deodorising properties, are often used in meals.

I'm not saying that you need to cut any foods out in order to smell good, but you should consider reducing the amounts of unhealthy foods and red meats you eat, and make sure to drink plenty of water and eat veggies and fruit daily.

2) Keeping a Clean House: Here in Ireland, a lot of people don't clean their houses every day. I know multiple people that only clean their floor once a week, and have a couple of neighbours who don't do much cleaning themselves and just have a housekeeper visit to clean once a week. But in Morocco, people clean daily. The home is also deep cleaned once a week, we even wash the walls. We don't wear shoes inside, and not just that, but we also have different slippers specifically for wearing inside the bathroom. Living in a clean space is important for smelling good, because no matter what you do, you'll always end up smelling like wherever you live due to spending so much time there. The scent will cling to your clothes and hair. Which means if your house smells dirty, you will also smell dirty.

As well as making sure the house is clean, Arabs also make it smell pretty with extras. For example, in Morocco it's common to burn incense or bakhour (perfumed wood chips), and the scent permeates your clothes. People also keep pieces of musk in their wardrobes (wrapped in a handkerchief). It come in scents like orange blossom, jasmine, amber, sandalwood, chamomile and lavender. An unused bar of soap or a sachet of potpourri in your wardrobe will do the same job though if you can't or don't want to buy musk. The musk can also be used as a scented wax melt, a home scent (you just leave it in a bowl), a body perfume (rub it on your skin), a hair perfume (rub on your palms and run through the hair), or to scent bathwater. Solid perfume made from natural ingredients has the same effect. I like Lush Rose Jam solid perfume, as it smells like sweet roses and Turkish delight, and a little goes a long way.

Specific to Marrakech, you can buy jasmine balls which you just leave around the house (if you're not in Marrakech, you can just leave potpourri or dried flowers and herbs in sachets on your desk, bedside table, etc). The Marrakech herbal shops also sell sandalwood bark which you burn. Oud and amber are also burned. Herbs like lavender are sprinkled under carpets and rugs so the scent rises as they're stepped on. Room sprays from brands like Nabeel are used, which come in a range of lovely scents (like the warm vanilla and oud Kanz or the rich floral Raunaq).

3) Personal Hygiene: In the Arab world, people shower daily. In Morocco, we also go to the hammam (public bath) once a week, and we sit in the sauna room, and then rub our bodies with sabon beldi (black soap), a natural soap made from olive oil and black olives, leaving it on for a few minutes before rinsing it off. Then we scrub our skin with a kessa glove after it's marinated. Exfoliating dead skin regularly makes perfume cling to you better (if you order Korean bath towels from Amazon, they're very similar to Moroccan kessa gloves and you use them in a similar way). Then after washing our hair, we use a ghassoul clay mask (some people also rub henna into their skin). After washing the clay off, many people rub rosewater or argan oil into their skin before heading to the relaxation area to enjoy refreshments. As well as helping us smell good, it also makes our skin incomparably soft. When my parents were newlyweds, my father remarked on how he'd never felt a woman with such soft skin in his life before. My mother attributes it to regularly using the hammams before moving here.

Obviously not everyone has access to a hammam, but you can create a similar experience at home. Just sit in a steamy hot shower for 10-15 minutes, wash your skin with a natural soap and leave it on for a few minutes before rinsing off and exfoliating with a glove. Then tone with rosewater and apply oil to your body.

Dukhan treatments (smoke baths) are practiced in Sudan. Married women and brides anoint themselves with oil, before sitting over a chair with a hole in the centre. Under the seat, there is a pit, in which acacia wood, frankincense, or other aromatic woods and resins are burned in a clay vessel.

As well as showering daily (and using the hammam regularly if you're Maghrebi), many people in the Arab world also perform wudu (ritual cleansing) five times a day before praying.

Women commonly apply Musk Al Tahara (white musk), an attar that smells like vanilla, flowers and soft musk on the external parts of their vulva after periods.

Alum was commonly used as a natural deodorant in the Arab world in the past, and some still use it today.

Bidets are also common in the Arab world. In the Anglosphere they're uncommon, but it's easy to get a portable bidet (a small squeezable bottle with a nozzle) online.

We also wash our hands before meals, with a pitcher of water which is passed around the room. In Turkey, they use kolonya, made from fig blossoms, jasmine, rose, or citrus to disinfect their hands. In Morocco, it's common for women to scent their hands with rosewater or orange blossom water after meals.

4) Fragrances, Lotions and Potions: In the Arab world, perfumes are incredible. They're oil-based, so they have excellent projection and longevity. The olfactory notes commonly used in them are beautiful too: delicate rosewater and orange blossom water, exotic oud, sweet amber, vibrant roses and jasmine. In Morocco, gardenia scents are popular, even among men.

Emirati perfumes are the most well known in the West and are super good. Some personal favourites of mine include Oud Mood by Lattafa (Caramel, rose, saffron, and oud), Fatima Pink by Zimaya (Sweet rose that smells like a bit like Turkish delight. it's a dupe of the French Parfums De Marly Delina, however, the actual Delina smells very similar to generic rose oil perfumes you can get in the Arab world to begin with so Zimaya was basically able to dupe it to a T. Their version lasts really long too), Ameerat Al Arab by Lattafa (jasmine, a hint of oud, slightly citrusy. Also the name means "Arabian Princess" in English), Fakhar Rose by Lattafa (sweet, fruity, and very floral) and Yara by Lattafa (floral, amber, vanilla and strawberry). I buy my perfumes from Dubai Perfume Shop in Dublin, but they can be easily found online. Some well-known Arab perfume houses include Lattafa, Al Rehab, Zimaya, Al Qurashi, Amouage, Afnan, Ajmal, Asdaaf, Al Haramain, Armaf, Kayali, Maison Alhambra, and Swiss Arabian, but there are hundreds more.

As well as sprayable perfume, perfume oil is also used. It usually comes in rollerballs or small containers, is inexpensive, and lasts for ages. Like spray perfume, it comes in a huge variety of scents. You can also put it in diffusers or add some to cotton balls and leave in your wardrobe to scent clothes and linens.

Arabs know when to wear perfumes. For example, a rich, sweet, strong oud and vanilla scent will be beautiful in colder weather. But in warm weather, it will become cloying and sickly. Musk, amber and saffron are popular in winter, while rose, orange blossom and jasmine are popular in summer.

In the Arab world, many stalls in the Medina sell gorgeous oils, fragrances and soaps that are inexpensive. For example, the musk I mentioned above. As well as making your home smell incredible, you can also rub it on your body and you'll smell good for days.

Rosewater is commonly used as a toner and to remove makeup. In the town of Skoura, where my great grandparents were from, men even use it to shave with! Orange blossom water is also used in Arab beauty routines in a similar way to rosewater. You can apply either to a bath for extra luxury.

Argan oil is commonly used in Morocco on both skin and hair, as well as the less well-known but just as good prickly pear oil (which is very high in vitamin E). Pure argan oil actually smells mild and not fragrant (similar to olive oil), but for beauty, things like rose oil and menthol are commonly added, so it smells pretty good. Throughout the Middle East and North Africa, jasmine hair oil, castor oil and sweet almond oil (I like putting it in my baths and on my body) are easy to find. Usually Middle Eastern and South Asian shops in the West sell them too.

Honey and almond masks have been used since ancient times, and to this day are still popular. You can buy them basically anywhere. Homemade face masks made from honey and yoghurt or crushed figs and yoghurt are also used.

Aloe Vera is used to treat dry skin, acne, and sunburns. It has a cool and refreshing scent, perfect for the hot climate in many parts of the Arabian world. I like applying it after shaving as it's soothing, natural, and absorbs easily.

Frankincense, a resin used in the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years, was traditionally used as a natural perfume. It's commonly used in incense. Frankincense oil is also good for the skin.

There are many beautiful scented soaps available in the Arab world. If you go to Turkish or Arab supermarkets, a lot of them will have a section where they sell hygiene products, including soaps with ingredients like argan, rose and oud, and olive oil. I've even found Syrian Aleppo soap before. You can just buy soaps from regular stores in scents like rose, jasmine, honey and almond, orange blossom and sandalwood for achieving that exotic scent though.

As well as using various oils, perfumes, and fragrant beauty treatments, Arab women also know how to layer these different scents to add dimension to them and avoid clashing. For example, a rose perfume over a vanilla lotion will always smell good. Other combinations that are good include almond and vanilla, rose and oud, rose and jasmine, lavender and lemon, rose and orange blossom, and orange blossom and vanilla. But there are many different combinations you can use to achieve a delicious scent that's unique to you.

I hope this was helpful, stay pretty ✨

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flemingsfreckles · 9 months ago

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Officially Off-Season

Jessie Fleming x Chelsea!Reader

Preview: The team goes out to celebrate winning the Super League and the beginning of the off season, you decide it’s time to follow up on a comment Jessie made earlier in the season.

Warnings: alludes to smut, suggestive, some cursing and drinking

WC: 4.3k

You hated this environment, the loud music and smell of sweat and how your shoes would stick to the floor, but this is the result of Chelsea winning the league. The girls went out and there was no getting out of this one. Normally after a big win you’d join in the celebrations then make an excuse, an early physio appointment the next morning, not wanting to drink due to being in the middle of the season, a headache, you had used every excuse in the book. Your teammates knew most of the time that your excuses were full of shit but they'd let you leave anyway.

You had only been at the bar for 20 minutes and were ready to bid everyone a goodnight. The first 10 minutes were spent running around trying to show face to your fellow teammates in hopes it would maybe get you out of here sooner. The next 10 had been spent in line at the bar. You ordered yourself a beer when Guro came up behind you grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, jostling you and shouting your name as if she hadn't seen you at the stadium shortly before.

“We’ll take two shots!” She hollered at the bartender. She waved a finger between you indicating one was for her the other was for you.

“Guro no!” Quick to protest, you had planned to stick to beer for the night, never being a huge fan of liquor and not wanting to wake up with regrets in the morning.

“Come on, we won the league, it's officially the off season. Just the one to make up for all the times you bailed on us during the season.” She looked at you, giving her best puppy dog eyes.

The bartender returned, placing the beer you had ordered down followed by the clinking of the two shot glasses and he held out two lime slices to you and Guro. “They're tequila, I hope that’s okay, that's what your teammates seemed to be ordering.”

“Perfect, thanks!” Guro grinned at the man, grabbing both of the lime slices, handing one to you before she picked up both shots forcing it into your open hand.

“I hate you.” You half heartedly told her. In reality, she was one of your best friends on the team and you loved her but she drove you crazy at the same time.

“Here’s to you, maybe you’ll finally get a certain someone to take you home.” She winked at the end of her sentence before clinking her glass to yours and bringing the shot to her mouth, taking it and following it up with the lime.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” You did, you knew exactly who she meant. “Plus that certain someone has a roommate, I’m not doing that with her home.” You threw back your shot, cringing at the burn and as you put the lime in your mouth you were once again aggressively grabbed by the back of the neck, this time Niamh shouting your last name at you.

“Are we finally getting you to go all out? Taking shots and all?” You turn and in front of you now stands Niamh, her girlfriend, and they're both followed by, ironically, Jessie. You felt Guro’s stare on you as she realized that had they shown up a few seconds earlier, Niamh and Jessie would have overheard the conversation you were having.

Niamh and Jessie’s apartment not being far from the bar you had agreed to, they had run home to change. What caught your eye was Jessie’s outfit. She was dressed in all black, a pair of nice slacks and a button up shirt up top. Her hair was neatly pulled back. She was easily one of the best dressed people here, you and the rest of your teammates in some variation of sweatpants and sweatshirts. You had opted to put on the clothes that you wore into Stamford Bridge that morning. You stood wearing a pair of light wash jeans with a simple blue shirt. You suddenly felt underdressed despite standing next to Guro who was wearing her travel sweats and a t-shirt.

“Just the one.” You say sternly.

“Boo! I just got here and didn’t get to do one with you.” Niamh protests. She turns, pointing to her girlfriend and Jessie, “They want to do one with you too, right Jess?” You look over Niamh’s shoulder to look at Jessie. She’s looking around the bar completing a whole circle of the room before her eyes meet yours back in front of her as she hears Niamh mention her name. You give her a smile and she returns it.

“Uh, yeah sure.” By the look of confusion on her face you can tell she was just agreeing with Niamh, not really sure what she had just agreed to.

“We’ll take 5 more.” Guro is quick to holler at the bartender. You see Jessie’s eyes widen and her lips make an O as she realizes what she had said yes to. She mouths “sorry” and gives you an apologetic look.

The glass and lime are once again shoved into your hands along with the rest of the group. Niamh puts her shot in the middle of the 5 of you. “Here’s to winning the league and to finally getting these two,” she tips her head in your direction followed quickly in Jessie’s direction, “to finally join in on our hijinx.”

The second shot goes down smoother than the first, you finish off your lime and turn to the bar grabbing the beer that was supposed to be your first drink, not your third.

“Let's go dance.” Guro grabs your hand pulling you away from the person you actually wanted to talk to. You entertained Guro for a couple songs, dancing with her, letting the warmth from the two shots ease your nerves you normally would be feeling about dancing in public.

“Are you going to talk to her?” You hear Guro shout over the music into your ear. Guro was pressed up against your back dancing with you. To an outside eye it would’ve looked like you and Guro were together, the reality was you both just didn’t care, just having a good time dancing with the music. You turned around so you were face to face.

Leaning in, you shouted into her ear “I was going to, but youre the one who dragged me over here to dance with you instead.”

“Okay you're free to go,” She threw her arms back in an over dramatic fashion. “But I expect you to not fuck this up.” Her hand comes down giving you a pat and a shove on the back in the direction of a table in the corner. “You know she wants this too, don't forget that.”

It was a gentle reminder to you that Guro knew a secret of yours that no one else on the team, let alone anyone else in the world, knew.

It was many months ago, early in the season and you had stayed late getting in some extra practice and some recovery done. Jessie had joined you, you both were close, both secretly infatuated with each other, too shy to make a move. Instead you opted for subtle flirting with each other, gaining both of you nothing besides an increased tension between you. The flirting was so subtle that not even your teammates had picked up on it, the only reason Guro had figured out what was happening between the two of you was she had witnessed it with her own eyes.

Guro had also stayed late, up in the film room watching over some plays with the coaching staff. When she was done she ran down to the changing room to grab her bag and head home. Assuming everyone else was long gone, she had not expected anyone to be in the room so she was startled when she saw you and Jessie. She had been even more startled when she saw you both, sitting side by side in the cubbies, Jessie with a hand on your thigh and your hand cupping Jessie’s chin as your lips locked with hers. The sound of the door opening hadn’t alerted you and Jessie but the sound of it slamming shut did. You both split apart, whipping your heads around with wide eyes. You both saw Guro who was standing in the doorway mouth open, unable to look away from you and Jessie.

Thankfully in that moment, Guro agreed to pretend she didn’t see anything, you and Jessie both talking over each other to explain to her it's not what it looks like. Guro had stuck to that promise, never mentioning the kiss she witnessed to anyone, and hardly mentioning it to you. She had teased you for a bit about it in private but stopped once you let her know that Jessie had told you she wasn’t interested in starting any relationships in the middle of the season. She claimed she just was just too busy, and couldn’t even think about relationships until the off season. It had upset you, but it also led to you counting the days until the season was over. Your flirting had continued, the kiss and rejection not changing anything, giving you hope for the day the season ended. And now it is officially off-season as Guro had said earlier in the evening.

“Go!” Guro shoved you again in the direction of Jessie who sat at a table. You stumbled as her force caused you to bump into a few people on the dance floor. You excused yourself as you made your move over to the brown haired, brown eyed girl. As you walked up to the table, Niamh and her girlfriend got up from their seats, waving in the direction of the dance floor. You turned to see Guro waving back at them, she shot you a wink to which you rolled your eyes.

“No dancing for you?” You questioned Jessie as she had remained in her chair, picking at the label on the bottle in front of her.

“No, I’m alright here, there's no need for me to embarrass myself.” She looked up at you. “You seemed like you were having a good time out there though.”

“I mean, the two shots I was peer pressured into taking, no thanks to you by the way,” you joked with her “helped me get out there, I’m sure I looked silly, I just cared less.”

“You didn’t look silly, you looked good.” Jessie’s words ring in your ears. You look down to her to see she's back to watching her nails pick at the bottle in front of her. Her cheeks have a pink color creeping up them.

Not sure how to respond to her comment, you finally decide to sit down across from her, placing your own empty bottle on the table. You sit with her in a silence that borders on being uncomfortable, without the noise of the bar it would be fully uncomfortable. Your mind races through thoughts. Do you tell her you want to kiss her? Do you ask her what her plans are for the offseason? Maybe ask if she’s seeing anyone? Ask her if she’s looking forward to being back with the Canadian team? See if she’s visiting family? Despite the many options that you could have gone, your brain takes a different route.

“So it's the off season now.” Those were the words that came out of your mouth. Jessie looks across to you, a blank expression on her face. She’s not sure if you're asking a question or just stating facts. She can't tell if you are expecting a response from her either.

Letting your brain catch up to the sentence that you had just said, you clarified, “I just mean that, back when we kissed,” the latter half of that sentence coming out as nearly a whisper. “You said you didn’t want to start anything in the middle of the season. And now it's not.” You mentally smack yourself, clenching your eyes shut quickly, hoping it’ll take away the embarrassment that you're feeling. This is the least smooth way you could have brought this up.

“Right,” Jessie starts, her eyes dart around the room quickly, avoiding your stare, a smirk creeps up on her lips before she speaks again. “I’m going to step outside for a second, just get some fresh air, it's kind of hot in here.” Her eyes look intensely into yours as she glances over at the door, then back to you and to the door again.

You read that as rejection, feeling your heart deflate a bit you nod to her and you let her walk away without another word to her. When you hear the door close behind her you let your forehead fall to the table with a quiet “fuck” coming out from your lips. You’re jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of your phone vibrating on the table next to your head.

Sitting back up you grab it, seeing 9 new messages. Only caring about the most recent 3.

JFlem: are you joining me or what?

JFlem: apparently you don't know that the eye contact meant you were supposed to follow me

JFlem: I now see how maybe that wasn't clear enough

Not even bothering to finish reading the other messages you had received, most likely family and friends congratulating you on the league. You stood up quickly, nearly knocking your chair down behind you, pushed it in and headed toward the door you had seen Jessie go out just a few minutes prior. You walk out to an empty quiet street, streetlights lining the roadway.

“There she is.” Jessie calls to you. You turn to her, she's leaning against the brick wall arms crossed in front of her. She’s smiling at you as she watches you turn around. Her appearance slightly changed since you last took note. Her hair was now down resting against her cheeks and just above her shoulders. The top two buttons on her shirt now undone, letting you see more of her neck and chest. “Sorry about that, I thought you could understand what I was getting at.”

“No, I couldn't.” You walk over to her standing in front of her, giving her an eye roll for dramatic affect. “Sorry I’m not fluent in eye movements.” The comment makes her laugh, her face lighting up. Her laugh was one of your favorite sounds and watching her laugh was one of your favorite sights, the way her eyes would squint shut, the smile on her face, the way her shoulders shook, all of it.

“Come on.” Jessie grabs your hand, moving to the side to begin pulling you down the street. You took the second to interlace your fingers, her hands slightly bigger than yours, yours warmer than hers.

You decided it best not to ask questions on what was happening or where you were going, letting her lead you down the sidewalk. Her pace picks up slightly at first, making you speed walk to keep her from physically dragging you behind her. She eventually sped up to the point of the two of you both running, side by side down the street. The roads began to look familiar when you put two and two together. Jessie was taking you back to her place.

You walked up to the door of her building, having been there many times already you knew it well. She dropped your hand and you watched as she entered a security code, a beep occurred and she pulled the door back, swinging her arm to motion for you to walk through. You followed her direction, now you are grabbing her hand, pulling her toward her own apartment, nearly running out of excitement. You move out of the way as you watch her fumble with the keys, feeling like she takes hours to unlock the door. With this door, she walks in first, pulling you in behind her.

The door closes behind you and you find your back coming into contact with it seconds later as Jessie’s hands have found your hips and are pushing you backward. Her hands are firm in her grasp and yet soft in their force holding you to the door. She had you pinned against the door, but not moving any further.

Not sure if Jessie had sensed the question pop up in your head or maybe she had seen your eyes dart over to Niamh’s bedroom door. “Niamh said she is spending the night at her girlfriend’s, no one is home.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, wanting to be able to finish what you and Jessie were about to start. Your own arms are holding her, one on her shoulder and the other on her forearm. You’re both slightly panting, you could smell the faint traces of tequila and beer between you. Yes you were professional athletes but something about finally being in this position with each other, makes you lose your breath.

Jessie’s brown eyes rake over your face, looking everywhere before settling on your lips, glancing up to your eyes and then back to your lips.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing this.” With those words giving you final confirmation that this is what you both wanted, your hand that was previously on her shoulder moves to the collar of her shirt, grabbing a handful and pulling her into you, your lips finally meeting again after many months apart. You taste the drinks on her lips with a hint of vanilla, a chapstick she was known for carrying with her everywhere.

It starts sweet, like your first kiss but you can't help but move your hand from her collar to the back of her neck, pulling her in harder against you, not wanting this to stay sweet. You feel Jessie’s tongue against your bottom lip and you return the action against her lips to allow the kiss to deepen. The kiss has your head buzzing, all of your senses being consumed by Jessie. The taste of her lips, the smell of her hair and perfume, the feeling of her skin under your hands, the end of her hair tickling your hand that rested on her neck. All aspects of Jessie were consuming your thoughts.

One of her hands wanders from your hip to your stomach, sliding under your shirt. The coldness of her hands sends a jolt through your body and you pull back from the kiss. You rest your head back on the door for a second before looking back at her. Your heart pounding in your ears as you watch her open her eyes, pupils down large as she looks back at you. Her flushed cheeks made it look like she just played a full 90.

“Jess,” name is the only word that you manage to get out your voice sounding strained, taking another deep breath she finishes your thought for you.

“Bedroom?” She cocks an eyebrow up asking.

“How much have you had to drink?” You couldn’t help but ask, her new found confidence seeming out of the normal for her. The last thing you wanted was for her to regret this in the morning due to the shot and other drinks your teammates had handed her the night.

“Enough to give me a little confidence to make a move but also not enough so I’m still levelheaded and clear in this decision.” She answers, looking into your eyes, knowing you just were looking out for her. “I want this and I’ve wanted this.” She reassures you.

Not needing to hear much more, you gently push Jessie back, “Bedroom.” Nodding your head in the direction of her bedroom.

You follow her down the hall and through her bedroom door. It was now your turn to take control of your movements, you grab Jessie’s wrist tugging her close to you. Reconnecting your lips, your hands now on her hips you walk her backward, pushing her in the direction of her bed. The back of her legs hit the mattress and she sits down, parting her legs so that you can stand between them. Placing your hands on either side of her face, you lean down to kiss her softly. Jessie, wanting to speed things up, slides her hands along the top of your pants. Her hands find the bottom of your shirt pulling at it gently hoping you'll get the hint. You do, pulling back from kissing her to help her pull it over her head. Jessie slides further up the bed extending a hand to you which you gladly take. She pulled you up onto the bed and on top of her. You situate your hips between her thighs and the midfielder below you wraps her legs around your waist, your upper body hovers above her. Her arm comes up to your neck and she pulls you down onto her into a sloppy kiss, feeling your body weight on top of her, she lets out a sighing moan against your lips.

You wake up to the bright light of the sun coming in through the blinds. You quickly realize this is not your bedroom with your blackout curtains, it is Jessie’s bedroom. You have woken up in Jessie’s bedroom, in her bed. Rolling over when you see her back, the blanket sitting just above her hips. It stands out to you that she has no shirt on, bringing you to the realization that you also do not have a shirt on, or pants. Jessie still appears to be asleep, the rise and fall of her chest is slow and relaxed. Your eyes wander across her back, admiring the muscle definition and also admiring some of the pink marks that you had a hand in making last night from your nails and mouth.

Pushing the covers off, you move to get out of the bed, grabbing Jessie’s shirt from last night off the floor and putting it on.

“Are you running out on me already?” A sleepy voice from the bed says. Jessie is sitting up, rubbing her eyes as she looks at you. She’s now covering her chest with the blanket. Her hair is crazy, partly from sleeping and partly from last night's activities. She looked absolutely beautiful to you.

“No, I was just going to use the bathroom and put on some clothes.” Looking down at the fact that you still had no pants on, you see Jessie quickly glance down following your eyes, a small blush coming across her face. She nods and you head into Jessie’s ensuite closing the door behind you.

“I have some clothes you can wear if you want.” Jessie's voice comes through the door. You walk out grabbing the shirt and sweatpants from her hands. She had thrown on some clothes while you were in the bathroom, her free hand was in the process of trying to tame her hair. You quickly throw on the clean clothes, smoothing down your own hair and then sit on the edge of the bed.

Jessie moves toward the door of her bedroom, grabbing the handle, you jump up follow shortly behind her but are quickly stopped as Jessie lets out a gasp and slams the door shut behind her before you have a chance to get through. Left face to face with the door you are confused until you hear Jessie start talking.

“Niamh. Hi. I thought you were, where's your girlfriend, weren't you staying there? Not here last night?” The shake and panic in Jessie’s voice is noticeable as she stutters her way through the shock of seeing her roommate, who explicitly said she wouldn’t be home, standing in front of her.

“We ended up coming here, we drank too much and didn’t want to make the trip. She’s still sleeping on account of we weren’t able to get much sleep last night. But I guess neither did you.” Your eyes widened as you heard Niamh’s words through the door. She had heard you and Jessie last night.

“You might as well tell her to come out here, instead of in your bedroom. No point in hiding when I had the torture of listening to you both yelling each other’s names all night.”

Cringing at the thought of Niamh overhearing your night, you pinched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath and reached for the door handle. The longer you waited, the more awkward it was going to become.

You opened the door, Jessie turning back to look at you, her face a deep red. Niamh is sitting at the counter, a smug look on her face as she watches you and the Canadian look at each other, both mortified. You look quickly at Niamh before glancing away. The eye contact with her is deeply uncomfortable, you can't help but think about all of the things she may have heard between you and Jess last night

“You owe me earplugs and probably some therapy.” The smile on Niamh’s face told you that she was kidding but also l that you wouldn’t be escaping these jokes for a long time. Unable to form words, your brain is still overwhelmed by being essentially walked in on by one of your teammates last night, you just lifted your hand in a thumbs up in her direction. You moved behind Jessie putting your forehead on the back of her shoulder blade to hide your face. “So embarrassing.” You mumble into Jessie’s back, unsure if Niamh could hear or not.

“I’m surprised you both have voices left after everything you were saying last night-”

“NIAMH!”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #chelsea fcw #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine

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entwnii · 5 months ago

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it was supposed to be a short trip.

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔 keeps telling himself those eight words as he steps out of his convertible car, making his way towards your shared house’s front porch, arms filled with a bunch of vegetables, fruits and argentinan food.

what is he gonna tell you ?

tooru sighs, ruffling a hand through his chestnut locks, looking over at the large wooden crates sitting on the back seat. he lifts two of the crates, placing them under his left arm and grabbing the last crate with his right hand, making his way to the house’s front door.

the brunet manages to find his keys in the back pocket of his pants, opening the front door and stepping inside of your shared residence. tooru place his keys inside of the light-pink, ceramic, hibiscus-shaped trinket bowl you made at very start of your pregnancy, a few months ago. the chestnut-haired man smiles as he remembers the day you came up to him, a bright smile on your plump lips as you showed off the small object you had just made.

tooru kicks his shoes off, sweeping them somewhere towards the front door, before walking over to the kitchen.

he places the three crates on the soapstone countertop of the kitchen island, the white gold metal of his engagement ring tapping against the counter. he sighs, putting his hand on the side of his neck, cracking his neck, a breath escaping his slightly chapped lips. he places his arms behind his back, cracking the bones of his arms and back.

he grabs a large wooden bowl, placing it next to the sink. he takes the lemons off the fruit crate, rinsing them under the sink’s water and drying them before placing them into the wooden bowl. he does the same with the apples, limes, mangos, passion fruits and the other citrus before onto the vegetables : avocados, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomatoes and spinash. he grabs the freshly washed vegetables, opening the fidge to stock them into one the fridge’s drawer.

tooru turns on the water, washing his hands in the kitchen sink when his ears perk up at the sound of bare footsteps against the laminate floor of your shared house, which makes a smile appears on his slightly chapped lips.

“g’morning, princess.” your fiancé greets you when he feels your arms wrap his torso, turning off the water, drying his hands with a towel. you mutter a small ‘morning’, snuggling your head deeper against tooru’s back, which makes him laugh.

he loosens your grip from his muscular torso, earning a whine of protest from you — which makes him chuckle. he turns his body around, now facing you, gently resting his arms on each side of your neck, his hands resting on the back of your shoulders — fingertips drawing random patterns against your skin.

“how did ya sleep ?” he asks you softly, watching as you tilt your head upwards, your eyelashes fluttering open as you look up at him, slightly scrunching your nose as he places a kiss on the tip of it.

“good until i woke up to a cold bed.” you answer your fiancé’s question, a subtle pout on your plump lips, still annoyed with the fact that he left you, his five months pregnant fiancée, all alone in your king-sized bed.

the chestnut-haired man laughs at your words, muttering a small ‘sorry about that’ as he presses a small peck on your forehead. “ya smell s’ nice. . . ” he mutters, closing his eyes as he snuggles his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent. “ya took a shower ?”

you nod your head ‘yes’, opening your mouth in order to answer him when you spot the large wooden bowl placed next to the sink, the fruits almost falling on the countertop. “tooru.” your fiancé cringes at the tone of your voice, knowing damn well that he’s in trouble. “what the hell is all this ?”

“just— listen to me, ‘kay ?” he sighs, placing his left hand on the soapstone countertop, watching as you let go of him, taking a red apple in one of your hands. he tubs the back of his neck with his right hand. “i went to the market downtown this morning, y’know the small local market that ya love.” he starts, glancing a you. “the locals were sweet, as always, and kept asking me pictures about ya, how ya were nd all. when i told ‘em that there was only four months left before our little girl comes they shoved a bunch of products in my arms.”

you can’t help but smile as tooru explains the whole story, your heart swelling with deep fondness at the thought of the locals’ sweet actions.

the chestnut-haired man chuckles as he watches a timid smile appearing on your plump lips, noticing how the red apple is still in your hand. “want me to cut it for ya ?” he suggests, moving closer to you. “so that ya can have it for breakfast.”

“i want. . .” you think out loud, glacing downwards at the large apple in your hand. “. . .cheesy apple swaddles.”

a weird silence settles between the two of you right after those words left your lips. a stunned expression appears on tooru’s face, visibly at a loss for words. “cheesy apple swa— baby, the hell is that ?!” he asks, not believing your words, which makes a subtle pout appearing on your lips.

“cheesy apple swaddles.” you repeat, insisting on each syllables of the three words before sighing. “canned croissant dough, apple slice, brie cheese slice, honey. you swaddle it up, like a baby, butter, cinnamon sugar and bake it.”

“bake it ?” tooru repeats, one of his eyebrows raised as he rubs his chin with his right hand, glancing down at you. “then eat it.” you add, nodding your head as you speak.

“sometimes i wonder what’s happening in that silly head of yer.” he says before sighing, a small smile appearing on his slightly chapped lips. “but i’ll make that for ya.”

the subtle pout on your lips disappears as the last words leves his lips, the corner of your lips turning into a bright smile. you place your hands on each side of his face, the white gold metal of your engagement cold against his warm skin, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, muttering a small ‘thanks, you’re the best !’ before moving over to the large couch in the living room.

tooru lets out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances down at the red apple you placed on the soapstone countertop. He moves over to the fridge, opening it with his free hand. he grabs a can of pre-made croissant dough, a stick of butter along with some brie cheese. he closes the fridge, opening one of the kitchen’s drawers, taking the small jar of cinnamon sugar and the pot of honey.

the chestnut-haired man opens the canned croissant, unfolding the pre-made dough and cutting it in five small triangles. he cuts the red apple in ten slices, along with the brie cheese. he places a slice on apple on one of the dough triangles, followed with one of the cheese slices and a trail of honey before rolling the swaddle up. he does that for more times, putting a bit of butter in the microwave, just enough time for it to melt, before covering the five swaddles in melted butter and cinnamon sugar and placing the in the oven.

while waiting for your craving to bake tooru decides to make the both of your your favorite morning drinks : a lungo for him and a mocha for you. right after adding some whipped cream on top of your drink, the chestnu-haired man walks towards you, placing his drink on the coffee table and handing you the mocha, smiling as he sees the home decor mag on your lap, your new obsession of the moment.

“thanks, tooru.” you say as you grab the mug he’s handing you.

just as your fiancé leans down to sit next to you, the time alarm rings, making him groan in annoyance. you chuckle as you watch tooru make his way to the kitchen, opening the oven and placing the five swaddles on a plate, cutting the rest of the apple for him. he then walks back to you, a plate in each of his hands.

the chestnut-haired man places the two plates on the coffe table, grabbing the television’s remote, turning it on to watch the news. as he leans back into the couch, tooru wraps an arm around your shoulders, watching as you take a small bite out of one of the swaddles, a pleased hum leaving your lips as you nod your head.

“it’s good ?” tooru asks you as he turns his head towards you. “so good !” you exclaim, licking the tip of your fingers. suddenly, he leans down, taking a large bite out of the snack in your hands, to which you shout a protest, hitting his chest with your fist.

“it’s kinda weird but not bad.” your fiancé declares, shrugging his shoulders, unfazed by the light hit on his chest. “guess that‘s cuz i’m the one who made it.”

you slap the back of his head at his cocky words. “shut up.”

#＿〆(ˊᗜˋ*)#oikawa’s version is finally DONE !!#2nd pregnancy carving #6 more to go :3 #tbh the canned croissant part really pained me to write #as a french person :(#timeskip! oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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floorstanding312 · 4 days ago

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Ten Reasons to Consider Floor Sanding in Frenchs Forest for Your Home Renovation

Renovating your home is an exciting opportunity to breathe new life into your living space. Among the many considerations, the condition of your floors plays a crucial role in the overall aesthetics and functionality of your home. If you have timber floors that have lost their shine or show signs of wear, floor sanding in Frenchs Forest can be a game-changer. This article explores ten compelling reasons why you should consider floor sanding as part of your home renovation.

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When you choose to sand your floors, you also have the opportunity to select a finish that aligns with your personal style. From matte to glossy, or even coloured finishes, the options are endless. This customisation allows you to create a unique look that complements your interior design.

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Over time, dust, dirt, and allergens can accumulate in the grooves of your timber floors. Sanding them not only removes these particles but also allows for a fresh start. Applying a new finish can further enhance air quality, making your home a healthier environment for your family.

5. Long-Term Durability

Sanding and refinishing your floors creates a protective layer that helps prevent future damage. This extra durability means your floors will withstand daily wear and tear, making them last longer and saving you money on future repairs or replacements.

6. Environmentally Friendly

Opting for floor sanding is an eco-friendly choice. Instead of replacing your existing timber floors, sanding allows you to revive and reuse the wood you already have. This practice reduces waste and supports sustainable living, making it a responsible choice for environmentally conscious homeowners.

7. Enhances Acoustics

Timber floors have excellent acoustic properties, but worn or damaged surfaces can negatively impact sound quality. By sanding your floors, you can enhance their acoustic properties, making your home more pleasant and comfortable.

8. Expertise in Frenchs Forest

Choosing local professionals for your floor sanding ensures that you benefit from their expertise and understanding of the specific needs of homes in the Frenchs Forest area. Local experts can provide tailored services that suit the unique characteristics of your floors.

9. Quick Transformation

One of the most appealing aspects of floor sanding is the speed at which you can transform your space. Professional services can often complete the job in a few days, allowing you to enjoy your revitalised floors without a lengthy renovation process.

10. Increases Comfort

Finally, newly sanded floors enhance the overall comfort of your home. Smooth, polished timber feels better underfoot and adds a touch of elegance to your living space. The investment in floor sanding pays off not just in aesthetics but also in the comfort and enjoyment of your home.

Conclusion

Floor sanding in Frenchs Forest is an excellent choice for homeowners looking to revitalise their living spaces. From restoring the natural beauty of your timber floors to increasing property value and improving indoor air quality, the benefits are numerous. By investing in professional floor sanding, you not only enhance the aesthetics of your home but also create a more comfortable and inviting environment for you and your family.

#Floor Sanding Frenchs Forest #floor sanding #sydney #floor sanding western sydney #timber floor lime wash

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wynnyfryd · 1 year ago

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Trailer park Steve AU part 34

part 1 | part 33 | ao3

Steve ducks his head against the flurries falling outside The Hideout as he makes his way for the entrance and tries really, really hard to not to feel totally out of place.

He agreed to meet Robin and her friends here separately because he was coming straight from a shift, but he��s kind of regretting that now. The only black thing he had in his wardrobe that was at all weather appropriate was a tight-fitting black knit pullover with a high collar and a silver zipper down the front, and he feels like some dorky, supportive golf dad coming to cheer on his rebellious son after a long day out on the green. The light wash jeans and silver wristwatch aren’t really helping matters.

Jesus. He should have let Robin dress him.

The guy at the ticket counter seems to agree because he gives Steve a weird look when he approaches and asks, “Are you lost?”

“Uh, no.” And if it comes out slightly more bitchy than he intended, well—

“Five dollars,” the guy scowls.

Strike that. Maybe it didn’t come out nearly bitchy enough. “The flyer says it’s two.”

The guy eyes him up with a tight, sarcastic smile and pops his chewing gum. “For you it’s five.”

Oh, my god. Operation Woo Your Man might be dead before it starts, because Steve’s about to smash the ticket booth window and pummel this fucking guy.

“I already got yours!” Robin calls brightly, jogging up behind him on the sidewalk and waving a lime green wristband. “He’s good,” she tells the guy, then tells Steve, “Eddie said to give you this.”

Ticket guy frowns, and Steve gloats as Robin fixes the bracelet to his wrist. Yeah, buddy, you heard that right; I'm with the band.

Robin drags him into the bar, and he stops her just inside the door, hugging her tight enough to lift her up on tiptoe, smacking a kiss to the side of her head. He jostles her around until something in her neck pops, and when he lets her go she groans, “Oh, my god, do that again.”

She spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. Steve grabs her by the elbows; shakes her like a piggy bank until her spine goes crack-crack-crack.

“Wow,” she sighs dreamily when he sets her down. “Marry me.”

“You can’t just marry me for my massage services.”

“I know; it’s tragic. Anyway, come on.” She takes his hand. “Everyone’s already at the table.”

“Who’s everyone?”

Robin doesn’t answer — probably can’t hear him over the loud rock music pouring through the speakers — but she weaves them through the venue, skirting the edge of the main floor.

Steve’s never actually been in here, but it’s pretty much what he expected: black walls, black floor, black leather jackets on the handful of regulars. The stage is off to their left, already set up with Eddie’s band’s gear by the looks of it, though he doesn’t see them anywhere. Must be backstage getting ready.

In front of the stage is a small, empty dance floor, flanked by rickety tables with mismatched chairs, and overhead there’s a balcony with a sound booth and more seats. To their right, the main bar: a long, ancient dark wood counter that’s been graffitied to absolute shit, covered in band stickers and beer labels and ‘so and so wuz here’s, and just up ahead, lining the far wall, Steve spots a row of wraparound booths.

Dark red leather, the stuffing spilling out through time-worn splits. Only one of them is occupied. Steve can’t make out much from this distance beyond the vague shape of the people sitting there, but considering it’s the only table with any chicks at it, he figures that’s their group.

Suddenly, Robin stops. Turns around to look at him; drops his hand and bites her lip. “Okay, so. Don’t get mad…”

Steve narrows his eyes. He knows that guilty grimace. Whatever it is, he’s definitely about to get mad about it, or at very least annoyed. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Robin.”

“Okay!” She steps to the side, and he marches toward the table to try and get a better view, Robin trailing after him, rambling, “For the record, I really didn’t do it, I swear! But, like— well, Beth is friends with Fred, and Fred is on the school paper, so I guess he just—”

The details shift into focus: tiny frame, rigid posture. Big, curly dark brown hair.

Oh, son of a bitch. No. No.

Nancy Wheeler’s here.

—

part 35

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #my writing #my fic #jk about no part today i got bored at work

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iyamaggies-blog · 11 months ago

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Bubble bath

A Mahito Drabble I think I did a pretty good job avoiding gendered language. A lil suggestive but a lime if anything. Maybe I’ll do a smutty part two eventually. Half proof read enjoy! @sdr2lovemail this doin it for you or nah?

You’ve never seen a bath this bubbly before. Mass clumps of bubbles towering over the tub and overflowing onto the floor.

After loosing games against Mahito all morning he had left you alone only briefly before returning and wordlessly hiking you over his shoulder to move you into the bathroom, yanking your clothes off and dropping you unceremoniously into the tub smiling and giggling to himself as you sputtered out confused noises before managing to spit out a “what are you doing?!”

“Oh cmon you know! Humans bathe their pets all the time! Good owners keep their pets nice and clean.”

He strips his clothes and plops in the tub in front of you. “I hear some pets don’t like baths.” Grabbing your foot out of the water and using the overflowing bubbles to suds up your leg with his hands. “But I think grooming you is gonna such a fun bonding experience for us!” His hands change texture as he scrubs your leg with a gentle abrasion placing it back into the water once he’s finished. He repeats the action with your other leg pulling your foot out of the water and working his way up your leg while quietly humming to himself. He looks so content. He smiles softly to himself while concentrating on the task in front of him. Your skin feels so soft and warm and your being so good and pliant for him! To think he’s found you, his treasured pet, among the masses of inferior humans.

You expect him to place your leg in the water but instead his hands grip down tight and yank you forward. You let out a surprise gasp as your upper body is pulled into the water. Now settled between your thighs Mahito reaches into the bubbly abyss to pull you upright against him. Your coughing and trying to wipe your face while Mahito laughs boisterously, pressing you tight against him to speak directly in your ear. “See isn’t this so much fun! We should do all our baths together!” You feel his fingers take on a more slender boney shape as he runs his one hand through your hair wrapping the other around your waist to anchor you flush against him. It’s relaxing the way he detangles your hair. He keeps running his comb like fingers over your scalp long after the last tangle has been vanquished.

Mahito washes you with a surprisingly gentle touch. Thoroughly cleaning every inch of your body. You leave your head tilted against his with your chin resting on his shoulder as his hands roam every curve and crevice of your body. Your breaths are slow and even as you relax against him. It’s strange to feel so at ease around such a fearsome curse. You’ve witnessed the those hands torment and mangle countless others with just a fleeting touch, those same hands that are now gliding across your soapy body, lulling you to shut your eyes and-

“Awww are you sleepy?”

Mahito pushes you forward to look at your face as he begins washing the front of your body. His one arm still around your waist to steady you while the other washes up your stomach slowing to a stop at your chest directly over your heart. Their heartbeat is so relaxed, the bath is working! A wide toothy grin decorating his face while stroking over your chest lightly before groping at the flesh then moving back to his more cleansing ministrations. Working his way up your shoulders and neck until his eyes dart up to meet yours and his hands cradle your face with a powerful firmness

“I could do anything I want to you right now.”

Staring down at your wide eyes and wet face he’s suddenly overcome with an overwhelming urge to…..attack you?

He dives forward to press his lips to yours in a series on forceful pecks before smashing your mouths together again to shove his tounge past your lips. You try to keep up with the aggressive pace but his tounge completely over powers yours. You surrender and allow him to explore every crevice of your mouth before he pulls away, a trail of spit connecting you. Your eyes meet for a moment before he’s pushing you back against the edge of the tub. Splashing water everywhere as he twirls around and plops back against you. His back against your chest as he beams up at you with a closed eyed smile and claps his hands enthusiastically.

“Ok your gonna wash me now!”

#finger lickin good #jjk season 2 #jjk #jujitsu kaisen #jjk thirsts #mahito x reader #mahito #mahito simp #mahito fanfiction #mahito drabbble #mahito x you #mahito jjk #jjk mahito #mahito fluff #mahito lime

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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for anyone else who needs comfort in the form of a sick fic. but written specially for @coloursofyen🩵

there for you

Jamie’s alarm goes off at precisely 3:26am, which is what he says is the optimal time to wake up for training with Roy. He rolls over and feels for your warm body on the other side of the bed, frowning when he feels nothing but the cold covers next to him. You’ve been out of bed for a while, then.

He sits up, and as he wipes the sleep from his eyes he notices a light coming from the en suite. Jamie hops out of bed and taps on the door.

“Babe? You alright?” he asks.

He’s met by a retching sound so he pushes open the door to find you kneeling in front of the toilet. Sweat makes strands of hair stick to your face, and your face is unnaturally pale. You blink blearily at him as he sits against the doorframe.

“I think I have a stomach bug,” you croak.

Jamie’s unable to stop a grin. “What makes you think that?”

You’re too tired and nauseous to flip him off. You’ve been awake for more than an hour, thinking first it might be something you ate.

Then you remembered one of your coworkers called out sick earlier in the week, followed by your supervisor two days later. Seems like it’s your turn now.

You manage to get out, “It’s going around the office,” before turning your face back to the bowl.

Jamie makes a sympathetic face and moves to rub your back.

“I’m gonna get you some water, babe. You want anything else? Crackers? Toast? I think we have shit for soup later today, if you think you can keep it down,” he says.

“Roy,” you say, sticking to easy words.

Jamie gently pats your back. “Nah, don’t worry about him. He’ll be glad to have the morning off.”

“You have a match on Sunday,” you remind him. “You can’t catch this.”

Jamie disregards this and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “The lads’ll be fine without me. Give some second-teamer a chance to be on the pitch. Besides, it’s against Bournemouth.”

You make a face. Bournemouth is at the bottom of the league, and at the moment a match against them is essentially free points.

“It feels awful,” you rasp.

Jamie readjusts his position on the floor. “Babe, I’m a fucking… specimen. I’m like, so fucking healthy that viruses bounce right off me. I’m not gonna catch it.”

You shake your head and retch again. That’s what you had thought.

“Let me text Coach,” Jamie says. “I’ll sit here as longs as you need, or I can grab a bowl so you can go back to bed. Actually, let’s go to the guest room while I change the sheets in here, yeah? All hygienic, like. I can make mum’s special soup, think we’ve got everything for it. Can order it if not. Just don’t worry about it, alright? Your body’s a temple, or whatever fucking Lasso says.”

You crack a half-smile at that. For as much as Jamie loves football, he loves you more. Only slightly more, but you’ll take it.

He says, “Come on, up you get,” and half-lifts you to a standing position. Once you’re settled in the guest bed with the tv on and a lime soda, he heads downstairs to figure out what you might be able to eat. He ends up bringing you toast, a banana, and a sleeve of crackers, then getting into bed next to you.

“Sheets are in the wash,” he says.

“Don’t get too close to me,” you warn. “You’re going to catch this fucking bug.”

“Won’t,” he responds smugly.

“Will,” you argue.

“Won’t,” he repeats with such confidence that you wish Roy were still coming over to smack him down a little bit.

Will, you silently mouth.

—

That fucker doesn’t even get so much as a sneeze.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 7 months ago

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The Fig & The Lime (The Surprise, Part 5)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, vague references to sex, church times and references to religious trauma Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: As your risk of a miscarriage goes down, you and Emily decide it's time to start telling people about the baby. You decide to start with the hardest person: Emily's mom. And her reaction prompts you both to make your first major parenting decision together.

Week 11: The Fig

You couldn't remember sleeping more in your entire life. You felt like you’d reverted to infancy: eat, sleep, repeat. No matter how long you slept, it was never enough. By 10:00 AM, you needed a nap. Then again at 2:00. Maybe 4:00 as well. And at night? You were lucky to make it ‘til 8:00.

So Emily wasn’t surprised when she got back from her week-long case and found you fast asleep, curled up on your side of the bed, your glasses crooked on your nose and your thumb stuck in a book. She smiled lovingly at you, pausing just to stare at you for a minute, just to watch your chest move up and down, to listen to your little huffs of breath.

Emily set her go-bag down, removed the dirty clothes, and threw them in the closet hamper basketball-style. One missed and landed nearby on the floor. She shrugged, stupidly relieved that you’d been asleep for it. You would’ve made fun of her for missing.

She crept over to you, trying not to make a sound, and leaned down to brush your hair out of your face. She gently removed your glasses and set them on your nightstand, then slid the book out of your hands, careful to hold your place. Emily leaned down to place a soft kiss on your head, standing back to stare at you again.

She shook her head and smiled. How many years had you been together? Was it five now? Six? And she still got butterflies every time she saw you sleeping in her bed. There was just something so vulnerable about you when you were asleep, something precious and rare and beautiful. For Emily, sleeping around someone meant incredible trust, it meant believing that you were safe when you could do nothing to protect yourself. Emily didn’t feel that kind of safe around anyone except you. So it made her heart melt every time she found you sleeping, every time you let yourself drift off, every time she came home and you didn’t wake up because your body and mind felt so safe with her. Emily loved making you feel safe. And, to her, moments like this were the physical manifestation of a mission accomplished.

Emily took a quick shower, washing away the grime–physical and mental–of a week spent hunting a gang of serial killers. She put on a soft t-shirt and sweatpants and crawled into bed, calm flooding her body knowing that it was Saturday afternoon. She’d have the rest of today and all of tomorrow to do nothing but be with you.

As she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you to her, you breathed in sharply and blinked. For a moment, Emily felt guilty for waking you, but the guilt disappeared when you turned your head around, bleary-eyed and beaming.

“You’re home,” you breathed, voice raspy. You turned around so you could face her, then wrapping your body around hers and holding her as tightly as a snake, your head nestled in the crook of her neck. "You smell good," you mumbled.

Emily smiled. Half-awake, half-asleep you was her favorite because you were less self-conscious than usual. All-awake Y/N would feel a little embarrassed about wanting to be so, so close to her. All-asleep Y/N would have been, well, asleep. But halfway Y/N… Emily loved the way you pressed your body into hers, like you were making yourself a nest, a home, right there in her arms.

She kissed the top of your head, running her hands through your hair.

“I missed you,” Emily whispered. “Go back to sleep, love.”

“Wait, I have to show you something,” you groaned, stretching a bit and turning to lie on your back.

You took her hand and guided it down your body.

Emily raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Y/N, I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen this, but I’m happy to take another look if you want.”

You whacked her playfully, still not quite awake.

“No, you perv,” you grumbled. You pressed her hand down just above your pelvic bone. “Do you feel that?”

“It’s kind of hard, like a… like a bouncy ball or something.”

You nodded, smiling, your eyes drifting shut again. “It’s the womb.”

“It is!?” Emily sat up and crouched down above your belly, eager to see–though there wasn’t really much to see yet. She pressed on the spot gently with her fingers, staring at it wonderingly.

The baby’s in there, she thought, giddily. My baby’s right there! She placed a kiss there, for you and for the baby.

“Does it feel weird?” she asked, glancing up at you when you didn’t answer. Your mouth hung open and you snored softly. She smiled; you’d fallen back asleep.

She kissed the spot where the baby was one more time, then kissed your shoulder, your cheek, your forehead. She manhandled you a bit so that you were snug in her arms, the way she knew you liked to be, even if you didn’t like admitting it. Emily wrapped one arm around you, and with the other, placed her hand over your womb, feeling the little rubber ball like it was magic and might disappear at any moment. But she knew the real magic was you, your body knitting together a child right there, right below her hand.

Week 12: The Lime

You glared at yourself in front of the mirror, tugging on your maxi skirt.

“You look beautiful, honey,” Emily said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Zip me up?”

You sighed and zipped up Emily’s dress, a red-and-white floral number, momentarily distracted from your own outfit by how truly stunning Emily looked.

“I wanted to wear a suit,” you grumbled. “You know I like suits better.”

“Well, Little Lime disagreed,” Emily replied, trying to hide a smile.

You weren’t showing yet, not really, but your custom suits didn’t fit anymore, and you were furious. It was Easter Sunday. You were going to Mass with Emily’s mom.

Neither of you were religious, but it was important to Elizabeth and, while Emily and her mom weren’t very close, Emily figured that once or twice a year, she didn’t mind seeing her mom–and she actually kind of liked going to Mass.

“You know I like to look extra gay when we go to church,” you complained as Emily pulled on a pair of heels. “What if they think we’re just friends?”

Emily chuckled, taking your hand and kissing the side of your head. “Baby, I’m pretty sure no one’s gonna think we’re just friends.”

You locked the apartment door behind you, still not entirely convinced.

“I mean, I can make out with you during the homily if it’ll make you feel better,” Emily teased.

“No.” You shook your head. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“You’re still okay with telling my mom about the baby?”

“Yeah,” you decided. “It’s time. Plus, when would we see her again?”

Emily shrugged. “I don’t know… New Year’s?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t think we should show up at Christmas Eve Mass with a surprise three-month-old.”

And with that, you headed to the one place you’d always assumed you’d never return to: church.

Elizabeth hugged Emily stiffly as you slid into the pew, then hugged you a little less stiffly. It wasn’t that she was homophobic exactly, it’s that she would have preferred Emily settle down with a man instead of a woman. But she liked you. You had a hard time with her, mostly because you knew that Emily, despite growing up with enough money to support about eight of your family, hadn’t had a happy childhood with her mom. But you did your best to be kind and gracious, for Emily’s sake. Emily didn’t want to be close to her mom, but she did want her in her life, and that was enough for you to try your best.

Emily had a complicated relationship with church. You’d grown up Baptist, not Catholic, so the solemnity and tradition of Catholicism was foreign to you. Despite being an atheist, Emily still found comfort in attending the occasional Mass. It was the repetition, she told you. The familiarity of it. You didn’t understand, not really. When you’d left religion, you had never wanted to step foot in a church again. But Emily was not you. There were parts of it that were home to her–as much of a home as she’d ever known moving around so much. And even though you didn’t understand, you honored and respected it.

You wondered, as the sounds of Latin and the smell of incense mingled around you, if Emily would want the baby to be baptized. You hadn’t discussed it. Religion wasn’t something you discussed often. You guessed you’d be okay with it, but you were adamantly opposed to raising a child to believe in God. Your own childhood had been filled with fiery stories of hell, tales of martyrdom that venerated toxic self-sacrifice, and the crushing, shameful, pervasive belief that something was inherently wrong with you–something that God had to fix.

You would never, never let your child believe that something was fundamentally wrong with her. Never. You wanted her to grow up believing that she was fundamentally right just the way she was. You made a mental note to discuss all this with Emily later. You assumed you’d be on the same page, since neither of you believed in God, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

After the service, Elizabeth took you out to eat at a very nice Italian restaurant. She ordered a bottle of wine for the table, and as the waiter leaned down to pour your glass, you tapped his arm.

“Just water for me, thank you,” you told him.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, looking back and forth between you and Emily.

“Something to share?” she asked.

Emily exhaled deeply and smiled at you. She was nervous, you could tell. She took your hand and looked at her mom.

“Yes, Mom. We are… having a baby. Y/N’s pregnant!”

“Well,” her mom responded, taking a sip of wine. Emily’s face fell. You could have slapped Elizabeth. “That’s… that’s excellent, dear. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Emily mumbled, and you squeezed her leg under the table. Most of the time she was so good at predicting her mom’s reactions. She was used to being let down and sidelined, used to her mom being disappointed in her. But sometimes, like anyone would, she let hope get the best of her, and got hurt all over again. Of course, Elizabeth had been lukewarm about your pregnancy. She’d been lukewarm about your marriage, lukewarm about your relationship. Hell, she was lukewarm about Emily in general.

You were glad that the baby–and Emily–had one side of the family that was truly over the moon about all of it. Your parents, you knew, would be giddy at the prospect of another grandchild. And your siblings would be thrilled to have a new niece or nephew. And Emily had told you before, often, that your family felt more family to her than hers ever had.

Later, when you came home, you cuddled up to Emily on the couch, leaning back into her chest. She had a faraway look in her eyes, absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

She sighed. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“You expected your mom to be happy you’re having a baby. That’s a reasonable expectation.”

“Not with her.”

You turned your head back to look at her, placing a hand on her cheek. “Emily. You deserve a family who celebrates with you. It’s not fair that she doesn’t do that. It’s okay to be upset.”

She seemed lost in thought for a while. You took one of her hands and played with her fingers.

“I don’t think we should go to Mass anymore.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I don’t want him growing up in that.”

You felt your heart unclench a bit. All those earlier anxieties, unfounded.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing something though," you told her. "You always said Mass felt like home.”

She pressed her face into your neck, kissing your shoulder. “It did for a long time. But I have other things that feel like home now. Like you. And Little Lime. And the BAU.”

Your heart surged. It was an honor to be the place where Emily felt at home. “No Mass then,” you said.

“No Mass.”

And just like that, your first big parenting decision together had been made.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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