#scent machine air freshener

[coralaroma5]

Coral Aroma - Leading Scent Diffuser System in Dubai, UAE.

Visit: https://www.coralaroma.com/

[amber-aromadiffusermachine]

Now you can make your home smell just like your favorite 5-star hotel. Meet the perfect stand-alone diffuser, which harnesses the power of scent and fills your space with an even, beautiful, healthy fragrance.

Utilizing cold-air diffusion technology, the Scent Diffuser turns fragrance oil into a dry nano-mist. With this method, scent stays suspended in the air longer and has better coverage. Using no heat or water, the Scent Diffuser preserves the therapeutic properties of our fragrance oils without altering their smell.

Key Features:

- Scents up to 500 M3

- Pairs with 100ml oil bottle

- User can customize fragrance intensity

- Sleek, compact and portable

- Waterless, heatless technology

- No residue

- Safe for pets, children, artwork and furniture

- Dimensions: 103*238 mm

[johnypage95]

[p0orbaby]

Dancing in the Dark

summary: a tactics coach and a vice captain walk into a bar… have a not so secret relationship

warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

a/n: i asked for requests and someone sent me this gem

word count: 3.1k

-

Leah texts you at exactly 12:02 a.m., a time she insists is “late enough to avoid suspicion but early enough that we’re not knackered in the morning.” The precision of it is very Leah—practical, calculated, with just the faintest whisper of rebellion. It’s always the same text—Room 308—as if she’s writing it for a stranger who might need the address for their sat nav. She never adds punctuation. You think that’s intentional, a way of keeping it casual, devoid of any intimacy that could be misconstrued.

You’ve stopped bothering to reply. It’s not that you don’t want to see her—want isn’t the word for what you feel when you see her name flash on your screen, but it’s close enough. It’s that typing on my way feels excessive when the answer’s already obvious. She knows you’ll come. You know she knows. And there’s something about that silent agreement that feels like the only part of this whole arrangement that makes sense.

The desk lamp casts a faint yellow glow across the room as you pack up. Your laptop goes into the bag first, followed by the notepad you’ve been using to scribble ideas for tomorrow’s strategy meeting. You pause to carefully align its corner with the edge of the desk—a habit you’ve had since you were a child, though you’re not sure if it’s a quirk of personality or a learned behaviour from years of Catholic school and its draconian rules about neatness.

Your hoodie is next, slung over the back of the chair like it’s been waiting for this exact moment. It’s an old one from university, the logo cracked and peeling, the sleeves stretched from too many washes. It smells faintly of your laundry detergent—a scent marketed as “ocean breeze,” though you’ve always thought it smells more like cheap fabric softener and an overactive imagination. Nothing about it suggests the ocean, or even a breeze. It’s more akin to the air freshener in a Southend-on-Sea rental cottage, the kind with faded floral curtains and a broken kettle. You wonder, briefly, if Leah would find this thought amusing. Probably. She has a way of laughing at things that don’t seem funny until she does.

The hotel corridor is silent, save for the distant hum of a vending machine and the occasional creak of overused floorboards. You walk quickly, your trainers barely making a sound on the patterned carpet—a gaudy, swirling design in shades of burgundy and gold that seems to scream corporate retreat. You keep your eyes trained forward, as if avoiding eye contact with the carpet will somehow render you invisible to anyone who might happen to step out of their room.

You’ve mapped out every staff member’s room, memorised the most efficient route, and calculated the probability of running into someone based on their known habits. Karen from PR always goes to bed early, probably still jet-lagged from the US tour. The physio, Jamie, is a night owl, but he’s more likely to be glued to Netflix than wandering the halls. Leah finds this level of detail ridiculous.

“You’re acting like MI5 is going to raid the place,” she’d said once, sprawled on her bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Her hair was still damp from the shower, a faint halo of gold catching the light as she turned her head to look at you. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know”

She’d been peeling off your shirt as she said it, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder, her eyes glittering with amusement. You wanted to argue, to tell her that fun is precisely what you’re having, in the only way you know how to have it: meticulously planned, risk-assessed, and executed with the precision of a military operation. But then her hands had moved lower, and the argument had dissolved into something else entirely. Something much harder to put into words.

-

Room 308. You knock twice—firm, precise knocks that betray none of the absurd nervousness bubbling under the surface. The kind that makes your palms clammy and your chest feel like it’s trying to audition for a drum solo. The knocks are part of a ritual now, as familiar as tying your boots before a match or double-checking the pitch markings. Three sharp raps, never four, because three would seem impatient, and two would feel too casual, as though you’re dropping by to borrow sugar or ask for her Netflix password.

The door opens almost instantly, as if she’s been standing on the other side, waiting for you. Leah’s dressed in one of those oversized T-shirts she always wears off the pitch, the kind that blur the line between effortless and lazy. This one is black, or it might have been once, but it’s faded now, the fabric soft and worn thin at the seams. The logo across the chest is barely legible—AC__ME—as though it’s been through the wash one too many times. You can’t tell if it’s a nod to Arsenal, a subtle homage to Wile E. Coyote’s endless misfortunes, or one of those niche designer brands that only appear on people with a six-figure salary and a curated Instagram aesthetic. It’s probably the latter. Leah strikes you as the kind of person who’d know what Vetements is and pretend she doesn’t care about it while secretly owning three pieces.

“Hey,” she says, stepping aside to let you in. Her voice has this easy warmth to it, like she’s just woken up from the kind of nap that makes you forget what year it is. There’s a hint of amusement in her tone, the faint lilt of someone who’s just thought of something funny but isn’t planning to share it with the group. You’ve always liked that about her—how she can hold a joke in her mouth like a secret, like it’s something she doesn’t owe to anyone else.

“Hi,” you reply, because what else is there to say? Hello feels too formal, like you’ve shown up for a job interview, and anything else—anything softer, more intimate—feels dangerous. Like stepping too close to the edge of a cliff just to see how far you can lean before gravity kicks in.

Her room is a mirror image of yours, down to the garish burgundy carpet and beige curtains that don’t quite close properly. It’s a symphony of stereotypical hotel design, where the furniture all looks like it’s been bolted down as a precaution against theft. But there’s something different about hers, something distinctly Leah. It smells faintly of her perfume, a citrusy Chanel scent you’d once looked for in John Lewis out of curiosity. You’d sprayed it onto one of those paper tester strips, only to feel your lungs contract at the price tag. It smells like sunshine and sharp edges, and now it’s permanently tangled up in your memory of her.

The bed is unmade, the covers thrown haphazardly across the mattress like they’ve been caught mid-escape. One pillow teeters on the edge, a casualty of her apparent inability to sleep neatly. There’s a half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand, its label peeling from condensation. A pair of socks—crew-length, white with a small Nike tick—lie abandoned on the floor near the foot of the bed, one inside out. The room is messy in a way that surprises you. Leah, who is precise and meticulous on the pitch, leaves her personal space in a state of mild chaos. And for some reason, it makes you smile. It’s humanising, like finding out that superheroes still get toothpaste on their shirts.

You step inside, careful not to trip over her trainers—Adidas Sambas in a muted beige tone, scuffed at the edges but somehow still immaculate in their coolness. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound punctuating the silence like a full stop. You turn to face her, and she’s leaning against the dresser now, her hands resting in the pockets of her shorts. She’s watching you, her eyes half-lidded and impossibly blue, the kind of blue that makes you think of open skies and lost afternoons.

“What?” you ask, because the weight of her gaze always makes you self-conscious, like you’ve walked into a room wearing mismatched socks.

“Nothing,” she says, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You just look…” She pauses, letting the sentence hang in the air like an unfinished melody.

“What?” you repeat, a little sharper this time, though you’re smiling too.

“Like you’re trying not to smile,” she finishes, pushing off the dresser and moving closer.

And maybe you are. Maybe you’re trying not to give away how much you like this—the quiet intimacy of it, the way she looks at you like you’re the only person in the world who knows what this feels like. Maybe you’re trying not to admit how much you want to reach out and touch her, to close the space between you with a single step. But you don’t. Not yet.

-

The sex is unhurried, languid. Leah moves with the same precision she does on the pitch, her hands mapping the curve of your waist, the line of your jaw, like she’s planning her next move three steps in advance. It’s the same deliberation you’ve seen in her during matches—the way she reads the game like it’s written in a language only she understands. But this isn’t a match. There are no spectators, no whistles, no rules, just her and you and the slow, deliberate way she’s undoing you, piece by piece.

Her kisses are deep, focused. They land with intent, the kind that makes you forget your own name, let alone the fragile, tenuous boundaries of this arrangement. Her mouth lingers on yours, then moves to your neck, her lips brushing just beneath your ear. She doesn’t bite, not yet, but you can feel her teeth graze your skin, an unspoken promise that leaves you gasping, your fingers curling into the rough fabric of the hotel sheets.

Her fingertips press into your skin—not hard enough to hurt but just firm enough to leave the ghost of her touch behind, as though she’s marking her territory. They trace the length of your back, down your spine, to your hips. Her thumbs skim over the waistband of your joggers before she tugs them down with a kind of casual confidence that feels maddeningly unfair. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She always does.

“You’re so quiet,” she murmurs, her voice low, teasing. She presses a kiss to your collarbone, her hands slipping beneath your shirt to push it up, her palms warm against your ribs. “That’s not like you”

“I’m—” You try to respond, but her mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and the words catch in your throat.

“Exactly,” she says, her voice smug as she moves lower, her lips trailing down your chest, your stomach, her pace agonisingly slow. She hooks her fingers under the waistband of your underwear, and you lift your hips instinctively, barely registering the soft laugh she lets out, the sound dark and smooth like melted chocolate.

There’s no rush. Leah’s always like this—methodical, unhurried. She knows how to take her time, how to keep you teetering on the edge until your body feels like it’s no longer your own. She kisses her way back up, pausing to nip at your jaw, your shoulder, the place where your pulse beats just beneath your skin. Her hand slips between your thighs, her touch deliberate, controlled. And you’re gone.

It’s like a tidal wave, slow to build but devastating when it crashes over you. You’re not sure when you start begging—if it even counts as begging, the broken sounds spilling from your lips without your consent—but Leah doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seems pleased, her smirk pressing against the hollow of your throat as she mutters something you’re too far gone to catch.

At some point, she presses her forehead to yours, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. She murmurs something—low, unintelligible, a slurred mix of swear words and your name. Or maybe it’s not your name. Maybe it’s a prayer. Maybe it’s both. You don’t ask her to repeat it. You’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe, your hands clutching at her back, pulling her closer like you can merge into her, like you can stop time if you just hold on tightly enough.

By the time you collapse onto the mattress, tangled in the hotel’s suspiciously rough sheets, you’re vaguely aware of how loud you’ve been. The walls are thin. The kind of thing where you can hear your neighbour’s TV murmuring away or the occasional flush of a toilet. It’s almost comedic, really, the way you’d tried so hard to avoid being seen earlier, only to make it painfully obvious now. You half expect a knock on the door, some irate teammate demanding silence.

Leah doesn’t seem to care. Of course she doesn’t. She lies beside you, her face flushed, her hair falling loose from the ponytail she’d barely tried to secure. She’s smirking, the way she always does after these nights, like she’s just scored the winning goal and nobody else on the team noticed. Her arm brushes against yours as she stretches out, her skin warm and damp, her breathing slow and even.

-

The next morning, you arrive at breakfast twenty minutes late, a record even for you. You’ve spent the better part of that time in front of the mirror, tilting your head at impossible angles to assess the carnage Leah left on your neck. Hickeys, in various stages of bruise-like blossoming, dot your skin like a battlefield casualty report. You try concealer—two layers, then three—but it only makes you look like you’ve dipped your neck in cake batter. After an extensive wardrobe evaluation, you settle on a jumper with a collar just high enough to obscure the worst of it, but not so high that it screams I’ve made several poor life choices and am now concealing the evidence.

You enter the dining area cautiously, your eyes scanning for witnesses like you’re in the opening sequence of Casino Royale. The room is loud with the sound of clinking cutlery, chairs scraping against linoleum, and conversations overlapping in a way that is both chaotic and oddly comforting. You spot Katie McCabe first, standing by the buffet with a bowl of cereal that is more milk than anything resembling a solid. Her spoon hovers mid-air as she glances at you, then swivels her head in Leah’s direction, who is seated at a corner table, scrolling through her phone like she has never made a suspicious noise in her life.

Katie’s eyes narrow, and her mouth stretches into a grin so wicked it should be trademarked. She sets her cereal down and makes a beeline for you, walking with the kind of determination that belongs exclusively to people with too much time on their hands and absolutely no regard for personal boundaries.

“Well, well,” she says, stepping closer. Her eyes dart to your neck, then back up to your face. “Someone had a busy night.”

You freeze. Instinctively, your hand twitches toward the collar of your jumper, but you stop yourself. Guilty behaviour. Act normal. Be cool. You shrug in what you hope is a convincing display of nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Katie tilts her head, her grin widening. “Oh, don’t play dumb,” she says, gesturing vaguely toward your neck. “What’s that, then? Tactical bruising? Working on a new game plan?”

“I slipped in the shower,” you deadpan. It’s a lie so bad it physically hurts to say, but the alternative is giving Katie McCabe ammunition, and you’d rather die than give her the satisfaction.

She snorts. “Jesus, you’ve got to at least try with these excuses”

You glare at her, but it’s useless. Katie is like a shark in open water—she can smell blood, and she’s circling. She follows you to the table, sliding into the chair next to yours without so much as an invitation. Her cereal sloshes precariously in her bowl, milk dripping onto the edge of the table. She doesn’t notice. Or doesn’t care.

Leah, of course, is completely unbothered. She’s leaned back in her chair, scrolling through her phone like she’s reading the football section of The Guardian and not actively trying to avoid eye contact with you. Her hair is still slightly damp from her morning shower, and she’s wearing a hoodie that looks suspiciously like yours. Katie clocks the hoodie immediately and raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Not yet.

“Just to clarify,” Katie says, her voice loud enough to carry to the next table, “are we calling this a team-building exercise or…?”

Leah doesn’t even flinch. Without looking up from her phone, she says, “Mind your business, McCabe”

Katie lets out a delighted laugh, stealing a slice of toast from your plate like she’s earned it. “Oh, it is my business,” she says, buttering the toast with an enthusiasm that borders on offensive. “You lot kept me up all night. Thought someone was being murdered in the next room. Turns out it was just—”

“Katie,” you interrupt, your voice sharp enough to cut through her sentence. Your face is burning, your ears hot enough to fry an egg on.

Katie leans back in her chair, utterly unrepentant. “Relax,” she says, taking a bite of the toast she stole. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now”

She winks at you, a gesture so insufferable you consider lobbing a teaspoon at her head. Instead, you glance at Leah, whose lips are twitching at the edges, betraying the smirk she’s desperately trying to suppress.

You shoot her a glare that you hope translates to I will kill you later, but she only raises an eyebrow, as if to say go ahead, make my day.

Katie’s still watching you, her grin as infuriating as ever. “You’re lucky it was me who heard you,” she says, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Imagine if it had been Beth. She’d have the whole squad doing impressions by now”

Leah finally looks up from her phone, her expression cool, but there’s a dangerous glint in her eye. “You done?”

Katie holds up her hands in mock surrender, her grin never faltering. “I’m just saying. Maybe next time, try keeping it down. Or don’t. Makes for great entertainment”

You slump in your chair, burying your face in your hands. You can feel Leah’s gaze on you, and when you finally peek through your fingers, she’s smiling. Not smirking, not teasing, but actually smiling, like this is the most fun she’s had in weeks.

You make a mental note to kill her later. Or maybe kiss her. You haven’t decided yet.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

heyyy. Just had a thought about what would tan would be like on reader's birthday but they aren't together. So readeranf the twins are friends so what kind of stuff would they get her. Feel like tan would get something really meaningful and sweet that is something that he must really listen to what reader says in general to know. And when he gives her it he's reaally awkward and a blushing mess cyz he's worried she won't like it and he's saying stuff like'you can return it if u don't like it' 'its a stupid gift so u probably won't like it'. Love ur stuff recently :))

my baby hi!! sorry this has taken me longer to reply to than I usually would. been a little busy last couple days!! I got a little carried away and I couldn’t stop coming up with things😭💌

TAN GIVING READER BIRTHDAY GIFTS.

but

this guy is so thoughtful that no one can tell me otherwise!! he's a good listener, especially when you think he's not paying attention AND he's got cash to flunk which helps aid his gift-giving abilities so so so...

he's a bit of a snooper, so if he sees a tab open on your laptop or computer and it's a shopping website, he'd quickly click on it and take a picture so that he can remember what it is. maybe he deletes the items from your cart so you can't buy them for yourself

if you and the twins are shopping, and tan sees you eye up something, he'd make a note to pick it up (he's come back in a few hours or next day)

it depends on what things you like - ie flashy designer gifts or gifts for things you need/ can't buy. but he doesn't want to disappoint you so he'd get you something within that category (in that safe sweet spot)

maybe he mistakes things, so if he thinks you like a certain candle scent, he'd get it for you in air freshener form, not knowing that you know there's a difference in the smells (hence why you've never bought it for yourself) so he thinks he's being sweet (he is) but you don't really like the smell, but he's so thoughtful that you say you love the scent name (that makes sense right?)

he goes overboard and definitely puts lem's gifts to shame (even though he got you perfect gifts (I feel like lem just knows what you want and like, and the presents have funny inside jokes))

he tries hard to find the balance between a friendly and romantic gift - not wanting to overstep that line 

maybe your washing machine broke? so he buys you a new one, but a model better than your one before. maybe you mention how your floor seems empty? so he buys you a rug to match your space (would probs ask lem for advice) maybe you mention how you're running low on a lip gloss you like? but he doesn't know the shade name, so he gets you all the shades in that brand/ line so you can pick and choose when you want (it's your go-to one and you have it out often, hence why he knows the brand - he can read the logo) clear, pinks, purples, reds, browns, oranges - he'd get them all 

maybe you mention how you want to liven up your bedroom to match the season? so he buys you new bedding with colours to match your room (again, he asks lem to help) maybe you had your eye on a pair of shoes or boots but they're way out of your price range? guess what? he's had them boxed up and in his wardrobe the whole time (ready to give you on your bday) maybe there's a foreign snack you like but it's near impossible to find? so you bet when he's away for work he hunts around the shops to see if he can find any. ALSO!!!!! if he can, he'd buy loads, like I mean loads and pay to mail them back home so he can give it to you for your bday (dying)

and when it comes to actually giving them to you, he's all nervy and anxious bc he doesn't want you to hate them, so he puts it out there that he's uncertain about what he got you (even though he knows he did a good job) ALSO he really really values your opinion!!! so he says things like "I got the receipt at home if you don't like it" "that one's stupid. I thought it was alright in the shop, but I dunno" "you're hard to buy for (lie) I'll get you better stuff at christmas (or whatever it is you do or don't celebrate)" “I won’t be offended if you swap it” (or return/ refund)

and the reason you have a slight scowl is not bc of the gifts, but bc of what he's saying. like they're PERFECT gifts and he's saying that they're not 

so you're like "how did you even know I wanted that?" and he says how he has his sources yadayada

he's such a cutie pie <3

[thescarlettbitch]

Modern witch tips ✨️

Vehicle edition!

I know it's hard to connect with nature when you're in urban/densely populated areas, or in a big man made machine, but here are some tips that have helped me.

But first, please, please, please if you are feminine/fem presenting, know the dangers of having your car too feminine looking!

Your car is an extension of yourself! Keep it clean, to the best of your abilities. Go through a car wash and imagine it washing away the negativity as well.

Protective stones/spell bottles/sigils. If you're in the broom closet or are worried about the people who frequent your car being weirded out, stick them in the glove compartment, the console, the little door compartments. Use things meant to protect travelers, or just generic protection things.

Air fresheners can be witchy! You can find a hundred shops on Etsy or TikTok that make special air fresheners (for star signs, deities, fictional characters, manifestation, etc), and you can charge them with certain intent or whatever, or make your own!

Playlists that embody the feeling you want for the day. Have a bad bitch Playlist to manifest confidence and play it on your drive. Make a deity playlist and play that to feel them with you as you drive.

Roll down those windows (if safe)! Let the fresh wind wash away your negativity and breathe in the scent of the earth (if it's safe!)

Take backroads, stay off main drags, take in the natural surroundings. (Again, if safe) don't be afraid to use a GPS so you don't get lost

Park your car in a park, if possible, as often as you can. Visit parks, they can help you reconnect.

Go for a litter drive, as I call it, don protective clothing (like gloves) and pick up bits of litter you find SAFELY and dispose of it correctly.

Key chains made with protective crystals, rear view mirror hanging witches ladder, Decals with sigils, stickers on the dash, etc. (Remember, it can be dangerous to have your car be clearly owned by a woman, so be careful, I personally take my overly fem seeming decorations down when I am parking in urban areas.

Lock your mirrors! Make sure no bad energy can get trapped in there and that nothing can come out.

And I think that's all I got! Feel free to drop more. Stay safe, drive safe, be witchy, blessed be <3

[loungeact-143]

Let Me Help You(Part 2)

Description: Y/n had been depressed and didn't clean her room for a while, She kept it from chan. Chan found out about Y/n's state of her depression, and helped Y/n clean her room.

Part 1

"What's wrong, baby? Come on, let's go to your room, yeah?

Y/n's brain froze at his words, that's what she was trying to hide for so long. She realized that Chan wasn't going to leave, and she couldn't just push him out, physically speaking. There was no point of trying to be vague with him anymore. Y/n meekly nodded and walked to her room. Chan held her hand as they went to her bedroom. He noticed her body odor but didn't say anything, he was just happy that he got to see his girlfriend.

Y/n just opened the door, wanting to get it over with. Chan's mouth opened at the sight of her room, he held Y/n's hand tighter, his heart breaking that she was living like this for so long. Tears threatened to fall down his face, Y/n was still looking down. "Y/n *sniffles* baby...why didn't you tell me that you were living like this?" Chan's lips quivered.

"I-I was afraid that you would judge me, I'm sorry." tears fell down her face. She hugged Chan, Chan held the back of her head.

"No, baby...I want you to be okay. I would never judge you for something like this."

"It's gotten so bad, Chan *sniffles*"

"Let me help you, baby. Go take a shower and I'll go get some trash bags."

He kissed her forehead and rubbed the back of her head. Y/n nodded and wiped her tears. She went to go turn on the shower, feeling the water temperature. Chan handed her a new change of comfy clothes, he then went to the kitchen to get some trash bags, tears starting to fall down his face. Thinking about how tired and lost Y/n looked.

This was the first time in a few weeks that Y/n took a shower, it felt refreshing to wash off the guilt and shame. She continued wiping her tears as she cleaned herself with coconut scented body wash.

15 minutes later....

Y/n dried herself off and put her clothes on. She had on pink fuzzy shorts and a old t-shirt with a cute print on it. She brushed all the built up knots and kinks out her hair, finally being able to run her fingers through her hair. She walked out the bathroom and looked for Chan. Chan smiled as she saw Y/n in a much healthier looking state, she had light in her eyes again. He walked towards Y/n and gave her a hug and a kiss on the lips, Y/n's ears turning red from the interaction. He smiled at Y/n and gave her a trash bag. "Let's get started" Chan said, his gaze softening at Y/n's blushed face.

They walked to her room, they started picking up the empty cup bottles, ones that she had, and ones from fast food places. All of the smelly drinks were poured down the drain, they put Y/n's empty cups in the dishwasher. They then worked on separating Y/n's clean and dirty clothes, which took 30 minutes, Chan was there the entire way. Y/n put her dirty clothes, bed sheets, and bath towels in the washer machine. It then came time to clean the surfaces of her room. Chan grabbed some bleach wipes and handed some to Y/n. They wiped her nightstands, her dresser, and the surfaces in her bathroom. They placed all of her decorations and accessories back where they belonged, Y/n's personality was starting to show in her room again. They finished the last final touches, like mopping the floors, cleaning the mirrors, windows and putting air freshener clips in her room, getting rid of the smell of expired drinks.

Hours later

It was about 2:00 am and Chan had put Y/n's now clean dishes in the cupboards. He then took Y/n's stuff out the dryer. They placed her light blue bedsheets back on her bed, then they placed her towels in her bathroom, and they spent time hanging her clothes up in her closet. Y/n sat on her bed and wiped the sweat off her forehead, Chan sat down behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder.

"I can actually sleep on my bed now" Y/n chuckled

Chan laughed at her words, he looked around Y/n's room. Comparing it now, to how it looked when he first came in a few hours ago. It was night and day. "Thank you....for helping me *sniffles*"

Chan noticed Y/n's tone and walked to kneel in front of Y/n, grabbing her face, making her look at him.

"You don't have to thank me, baby. I'm your boyfriend, I'm supposed to help you. Can you promise me something though?" Y/n nodded. "If you're feeling depressed like that again, please don't shut me out. I knew something wasn't right with you, that's why I came over your place unannounced. I love you and I want to know what you're feeling"

Y/n saw the tears in Chan's eyes and her heart broke, feeling guilty that she was the reason for his tears.

"Okay Chan, I won't hide from you anymore, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize baby, I love you."

"I love you too, Channie."

———

An: Y’all omg I love how this story came out. It’s definitely top 3 of my favorites so far. 🤧🫶🏽

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

I think It's canon that transformation can smell scents. At least in the bayverse. I mean, they can have car scent air fresheners or sprays that they can use 🤔 so can I get which scents are the favorites of bee, Optimus, hotrod, hound, and wreckers in general? It doesn't have to be just car scents. It can be things in nature that they enjoy the scent of. Like a flower or the beach or a freshwater lake.

So I did what air fresheners they would have. I will put the link here.

But I will do what smells they like other than air fresheners.

~

Bumblebee:

He enjoys the smell of workshops, fresh oil, and antifreeze.

He also likes the smell of popcorn, from every time he went to a drive-in theater.

Optimus:

He liked the smell of cleaning products. The NEST base was always kept clean and sterile and he enjoyed the clean smell of it.

He also enjoys the musty smell of old human books. And the smell of summer.

Hot Rod:

He loves the smell of the ocean, the saltiness. Being surrounded by it while living in England he has gotten so used to it.

He also likes the smell of fresh flowers from Burton's garden, and the tea/coffee Vivian likes to drink on the way to work.

Hound:

He loves the smell of gunpowder and explosive putty. He likes the smell of smoke, whether it comes from campfires, cigars, or from his overused machine gun.

Though he has a soft spot for Vanilla scents. And lemon, since they are such a contrast to his usual scents. He finds them very pleasant.

The Wreckers:

They love the smell of oil and grease. They also like the smell of burning metal as they weld things together. They like the smell of jet fuel.

They also quite like the smell of freshly cut grass. While building their ship out, they were surrounded by fields that would regularly get cut and they came to enjoy the smell.

[esoteric-space]

The Loveland Pit Stop

The night of Christmas Eve had worn thin enough to see Christmas morning threatening on the horizon when I spotted the Loveland Pit Stop sign floating in the dark. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed with a peculiar frequency, a sound somewhere between electricity and insect wings. It was an unusual stop on a routine trip. The coffee from three states ago had worn off, leaving behind a metallic taste and a tremor in my hands. I looked around at the parking lot full of cars as I pumped gas into my car.

In the fogged windows of the convenience store, Christmas lights hung unevenly across the dusty frames, their strands drooping where the tape had surrendered to gravity. A few bulbs flickered reluctantly, their dull hues lingering just a moment too long before fading, while others stayed stubbornly dark, leaving gaps in the rhythm. The fog on the glass softened the glow into muted pastels, blending reds, greens, and blues into a lethargic kaleidoscope, as if the lights themselves bore the weight of the empty hours.

Mom's kitchen light would be on, even this early. She’d wake up before dawn to bake, the smell of sugar and cinnamon curling through the house like a warm embrace, spilling out into the frosty air when she opened the door to greet me. It was a ritual as constant as the seasons, her way of holding onto something in a world that kept changing. 

The pump clicked at $14.08. The automatic doors parted with a whisper.

Inside, the fluorescent lights took on a pallid hue, casting a stark glare over the scuffed grey linoleum floor, amplifying the wear on every surface. The store's air was thick, almost syrupy with the artificial pine scent of holiday air fresheners mixed with something older and sweeter, like decades of coffee spilled in places no one had looked. Shelves line the narrow aisles, their contents arranged in a haphazard attempt at abundance: bags of chips with crinkled, faded packaging lean against each other, off-brand candies sit under a faint sheen of dust, and energy drinks in mismatched rows add a pop of color to the otherwise muted display. A whirring cooler hums faintly from the back, where pre-made sandwiches and cartons of milk crowd under a dim light that flickers intermittently. 

I grabbed a basket, its metal edges cold and rough, and moved through the aisles to begin my routine: powdered donuts that Mom pretends to hate but always snags from my bag, a bottle of Advil to stave off the headache crawling steadily behind my eyes, and coffee to fill the hollow ache left by hours of highway monotony. My footsteps echoed oddly, the sound arriving a fraction too late as I moved through the store grabbing the items. 

As I reached for the coffee station at the back, a row of cheap Santa plush toys loomed on a nearby shelf, their beady plastic eyes locked on me as I stood in front of the coffee machine. The digital display didn’t greet me with the usual cheerful prompts for dark roast or decaf but instead cycled through an erratic cascade of random numbers, each flickering with unsettling speed. I tapped the screen once, then again, harder, but it didn’t respond, the numbers continuing their frantic, nonsensical dance. A faint hum came from the machine, a sound that seemed to rise and fall in uneven waves, as if the display itself were breathing.

Turning toward the counter to look for help, I paused as I noticed that the cash register sat unattended. I slowly walked to the front, the air near the register felt heavier, cooler somehow. I froze, my fingers curling tighter around the handle of the basket until the metal bit into my skin. My breath caught in my throat, the faintest puff of it visible in the suddenly cool air. The chair’s slow, almost deliberate sway pulled my gaze, each creak of its movement stretching the silence into something alive. The radio sputtered, a warped voice crooning half a line of a carol before dissolving into static that sounded like someone trying to whisper in my ear. The chair behind it, slightly askew, swayed just barely as if someone had vacated it a moment too soon.

My eyes drifted to the counter, where an abandoned name tag glimmered faintly under the flickering fluorescent lights. The letters blurred and twisted, rearranging themselves into shapes that looked familiar but meant nothing, like the remnants of a dream slipping through my fingers. My pulse thudded in my ears, louder than the soft hum of the cooler or the faint ticking of the coffee machine behind me. I took a step back, my sneakers catching on the sticky floor, the sound echoing loudly in the empty store. 

"Hello?" My voice fell flat, absorbed by the dense, peppermint-saturated air, leaving behind an unnatural stillness that prickled at the edges of my senses. No hum of the cooler or the faint ticking of the coffee machine.

From somewhere in the back came a faint, unsettling sound—a dry, deliberate scrape, like paper being torn one agonizing fiber at a time. The coffee machine sputtered and gurgled, breaking the silence in uneven, wet gasps. My eyes darted toward its polished stainless-steel surface, catching the faint shimmer of my reflection. It was there, but wrong. Its head tilted slightly, almost curiously, dark eyes narrowing with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. The stare was unyielding, searching, as though it were peeling back layers I didn’t even know were there. Then, it smiled.

My chest tightened, and my breath hitched as I stumbled back, the basket slipping from my trembling hands. Powdered donuts rolled across the linoleum, leaving trails of sugar-white dust that seemed stark against the dingy floor. The reflection didn’t flinch as I did. It stopped smiling, leaning closer to the polished metal surface, its hand raising slowly as though reaching for me. My own hand twitched in response, drawn by an inexplicable pull toward the gesture.

Behind the reflection, something shifted. Other faces began to appear—versions of me, emerging one after the other, their features faint and fragmented, like sketches left unfinished. Their presence was a ripple, each one more translucent, more fractured than the last.

"Hello?" I said again, my voice thin and wavering. The word felt hollow, swallowed by the thick air pressing in around me.

The reflection’s lips moved silently, mouthing words I couldn’t hear. My heart hammered as I instinctively stepped closer, the movement automatic, detached from any conscious choice. It leaned in, its hand sliding down the coffee machine’s surface, leaving streaks in the condensation like tears trailing down glass.

Then its head snapped up, the motion sudden and sharp, locking its gaze onto mine. The air seemed to collapse, crushing and heavy, as the faces behind it stirred. One by one, they pressed their hands against the invisible walls of their prisons, their eyes wide with recognition—and terror. Their mouths opened, straining in silent screams that I couldn’t hear but could feel, reverberating like static deep in my chest. I wanted to scream too, to break the suffocating silence, but my voice stayed buried, trapped beneath the weight of a truth I couldn’t name.

I turned and ran toward the exit, but the automatic doors didn’t budge. Their glass panes remained sealed, fogging over as though something outside was breathing heavily against them. Panic surged as I banged against the doors, the dull thud of my fists swallowed by the dense air. I grabbed a magazine rack and swung it against the glass, desperation driving my arms. The rack clattered to the floor, its metal legs bending uselessly, but the doors didn’t even crack.

Gasping, I turned back to the coffee machine, my heart pounding in my ears. Its surface reflected only the dimly lit store now, empty and still, as if nothing had ever been wrong. But the silence wasn’t clean; it carried an edge, a tension strung tight like an invisible wire.

The radio crackled suddenly, the static from earlier flipping through fractured bursts of sound. Voices rose and fell, overlapping incoherently until they steadied, just for a moment. A smooth, familiar voice emerged mid-line, carrying a haunting resonance that prickled along my spine.

“You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

In that moment, the store stretched around me, aisles elongating into infinite corridors of fluorescent-lit limbo. My reflection watched with patient understanding as reality peeled away like old wallpaper, revealing the void beneath. The last thing I saw before the world inverted was my own face, watching from behind the glass, eyes filled with a horror I would soon learn to understand.

Then I was nothing. Not darkness - darkness requires eyes to perceive it. Not silence - silence needs ears to notice its weight. I became an absence, a space between thoughts in a mind that no longer existed. Perhaps I floated there for eons, or for the length of a single heartbeat. Perhaps I had always been there, would always be there, in that infinite moment between being and becoming. Time has no meaning here. Until it does. 

—

Reality flickered back like a fluorescent bulb catching current, starting with the soft whisper of automatic doors. And suddenly there I was, watching myself walk in with tired eyes and trembling hands, moving with hesitation. Christmas lights hung in the same uneven pattern, their strands drooping where tape had surrendered to gravity. The same burnt out bulbs. The fog on the windows softened their glow into the same muted pastels I remembered. The magazine rack I'd hurled at the glass lay undisturbed in its place, metal legs unbent, covers glossy under the fluorescent lights. The windows showed no sign of my desperate attempts to break them. It was as if none of it had happened.

Or perhaps it hadn't happened yet…

I looked toward the counter where I’d seen the abandoned name tag, the swaying chair. There had never been anyone there, I realized now—not tonight. Not any night. I watched myself scan the empty store, remembering how wrong everything felt in that first moment. My hands pressed against the cold surface of the coffee machine, desperate to warn, to prevent what was coming. But like all the others trapped here, I could only follow the script written in time itself. Powdered donuts, Advil, coffee.

I tilted my head, intrigued by the figure approaching, the way her movements carried the weight of something unresolved. I’d seen myself countless times in reflections, but this was different. It was me—my face, my body—alive and moving, untethered from the glass. A rush of fascination gripped me, a strange, giddy curiosity at seeing myself from this side. My breath caught as our eyes met, and for a moment, I simply stared, taking in the contours of a face I knew so intimately yet had never truly seen. I couldn’t help it—I smiled, a quiet, absurd acknowledgment of the moment. The ridiculousness of seeing myself, real and tangible, yet out of reach, tugged at the corners of my mouth like a private joke only I could understand.

The basket slipped, powdered donuts rolling across the linoleum, leaving trails of dust. I pressed closer to my side of the surface, my palm trailing against the cold, smooth barrier as I leaned in.

I watched as I took an involuntary step forward, my movement mirroring mine, both of us caught in the same gravitational pull I remembered all too well. Desperation tingled at the edges of my thoughts—I wanted to warn myself, to break through the glass with something louder than my helpless smile. But the absurdity of it lingered, that same hollow truth whispering that I’d already tried—and failed—before.

A whispered "Hello?" vibrated through the metal between us. I tried to speak, to warn, but my words dissolved into nothingness. When I dragged my fingers across the surface, they left trails in the condensation—proof that I existed here, in this impossible space behind the glass, where warm breath could still meet cold metal. I looked at how the droplets floated against an invisible barrier from my new perspective. Then I looked up sharply, meeting eyes that still held questions I now knew the answers to.

Behind me, countless versions of myself pressed against the boundaries of their reflections; their presence hummed like static electricity against my skin. Their horror, fascination, and acceptance rippled through me like emotions I had already felt or was yet to feel. The air grew thick as reality folded around me. The fluorescent lights above flickered in a rhythm that felt like language, shadows bending and twisting against the edges of the store. Soon, I would join the reflections again, another fragment in the endless choreography of fractured time.

I wondered if anything truly existed beyond these doors anymore. If somewhere, beyond this pocket of frozen time, Mom's kitchen light actually burned—its warm glow cutting through the predawn darkness like it always had, like it always should. If she was still waiting, moving between window and oven in an eternal rhythm, for a Christmas morning that would never quite reach dawn. If any morning still existed at all.

[obscure-imaginations]

Part 2 of vamps at the grocery store!

Turel:

-The one pushing the cart.

-Complains when someone is taking too long looking at items.

-Will snap at rude people who don't get out of the way.

-Stops the others from causing too much mayhem.

-Threatens to put Zephon in the cart if he doesn't quiet down

Dumah:

-Always asked to get things from the top shelf

-Loads the cart with cereal instead of actual food

-Practically takes up the whole aisle with the cart on accident

-Gets to hold the coupons

-The only one in the household that prefers orange juice over apple juice, he can be very upset when the others don't get him some.

Rahab:

-Complains about the amount of plastic used as packaging

-Only buys fresh herbs, he'll dry them at home if they need to be dry

-Gets several water flavorings

-Gazes longingly at the frozen pies, disappointed when Kain says no

-If allowed to push a cart, he will ride it down an aisle and almost hit someone.

Zephon:

-Puts things in the cart just to anger Kain.

-He's not allowed to push the cart.

-Buys brown sugar just to eat it out of the bag

-Always asks for duct tape, his only response is laughter when asked why

-He wants to make sure any medicine he buys doesn't have the seal broken, but he struggles with the child safety caps.

Melchiah:

-Wears earbuds to drown out the others

-Wastes money at the claw machines

-Somehow gets lost and ends up in the scented stuff aisle (candles, air fresheners, etc)

-Cools an aisle by opening a freezer door and staring blankly at the products within

-He knows it's basically a waste of money, but he likes looking at the designs on paper plates.

[coralaroma5]

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At Coral Aroma, customers have the luxury to select the most suitable scent from a wide variety of natural fragrances, to be used in the most modern fragrance diffusers we have come up with. Owning a signature scent will help you promote brand identity with considerable efficiency.  Incorporating these scents as a tool of scent marketing, they have come up with a wide range of scent marketing solutions for hotels, bars, offices, fitness centers, malls, spas, and massage parlors

[amber-aromadiffusermachine]

Nowadays, more and more people choose a high quality of life, and the aromatherapy diffuser, is an embodiment of improving the quality of life. For example, a buyer commented:

-I had been looking for some way to make my home smell like those high end hotels that always smell so good and came across this. I decided to give it a try. I was so excited to get it set up and opened it as soon as I received it. I did have a few questions but the seller was so friendly and quick to reply and I got it set up in no time. Instantly, the smell filled my two story home and it smelled phenomenal. Every time someone enters my home they immediately tell me it smells amazing and ask what I’m using. A few have even gone and purchased this diffuser and love it just as much as I do! This really is awesome and better than those plug ins or candles. I love that I can set it all up on the app and set schedules for when I want it to turn off and on and to control the amount and strength of the scent. Couldn’t be happier with this product!

-This model worked pretty well on spreading the essential oil smell without needing extra water and using surprisingly little oil in itself.  It works for a decent size room and honestly it did not require me to do very much.  I did not have to refill too often.  I just had to do some initial adjustment and it was good to go on its own.  This is a fairly big device.  It is not something you can mount.  It does have grip on the bottom so it does not slide and it also balances well.  Short of knocking it over like a glass of water, this will have no issues with falling.  One thing I will say is that it does require certain oils and they are not the cheapest.  That being said, it does not use up the oil quickly at all.  If you were to use essential oils with water, you would actually run out quicker than if you use this which is surprising.  You essentially save money in the long run with this device.  This device is nice in that everything is easily automated and programmed to your liking.  I can actually control the device with my phone which is nice.  It will tell me if I need to do anything such as add more oil.  This device is not battery powered and it does need to be plugged in to work.  The on board screen is nice.  It gives you the basic information while you phone will give you additional information.  It is not noisy at all which is great.  You can even program days where you want it to be more active.  The scent is not extremely strong so it is not over using the oils.  It is prone to scratches though on the glossy front.  There are controls on the device itself if you do not want to use your phone.  Please note that it is only connected to your device via bluetooth.  It is not a wifi device.  The instructions are not bad.  Overall this device does a good job in utilize the essential oils without burning through the oil or causing it to be too strong.  It is VERY low maintenance and easy to setup for the most part.  You really only have to do the initial setup but once you are done it is good to go.  It is not a smart device where you can connect it to your alexa but it honestly would not really need to.  You set it up how you want and can adjust accordingly.  It also disperses really well.  The sides are prone to scratching but it looks pretty nice.  You could place it anywhere in the room but it just needs to be near and outlet.

-

I am all about scent in my home. I have 2 dogs as well and I have and do everything to make my home smell good...candles, wallflowers, reed defusers, airwick you name it. This was easy to put a small amount into the container. Set the amount you want to blow out. It blows out a long puff of smell that lingers for quite a while, then re-puffs at the set time.

I was going to buy the Hotel collection but did this instead. I just bought 3 more to place in my bridal shop- it works really well!

[johnypage95]

Velux air diffuser diffuser:-

Discover the refreshing and invigorating scents of Lime Scent, a premium fragrance brand that offers a wide range of products to elevate your everyday routine. Made with high-quality ingredients, Lime Scent products are perfect for creating a welcoming atmosphere in your home or office. Explore our collection today and experience the uplifting power of lime. https://www.lime-scent.com/product/velux-air-diffuser/

[mindfulbrat]

What sounds or scents calm you down? (From the 50 questions post)

Ooooo ok so I’m very sound and scent oriented & could just list smells and sounds I like forever but I’m going to try to keep this to just the really comforting stuff.

Scents:

petrichor (basic I know)

orange blossoms

sulfur (there’s a lot of sulfur in the water where I’m from so you can just kinda smell it ambiently sometimes)

sunscreen

the smell that lingers in bars and clubs that employ the heavy use of fog machines

that train smell. like the metallic electric ambient heat smell that wafts through train stations and roller coaster loading areas

The way Club Cool used to smell at EPCOT when it was in that igloo

Weed

Any smell that becomes strongly associated with a close friend or family member or loved one; eg: a specific laundry detergent, bath soap, perfume, cologne, deodorant; if their car has a specific scent—whether that’s just “hot car” or an air freshener they keep in the car; even some body odors. I’m in my 30s and still think of my childhood bestie from elementary school every time I smell whatever laundry product his mom used to use.

Cigarettes but only outside and only as they’re burning. Cannot stand the way they smell indoors and never aquired a taste for the residual smell they leave on your fingers and clothes despite having been a social smoker for a several years in my 20s

Sounds:

mourning doves

Thunder

Heavy rain

Distant fireworks

Distant engine and tire sounds from street racers

Muffled and bass boosted reggaetón coming from a modded car stereo. Bonus points if they’re driving past you and you get Doppler effect reggaetón.

living room conversation / kitchen noises that just barely reach your room while you’re resting (this one only works if you actually like the people in the kitchen/having the conversation lmao)

My friends’ voices (see previous bullet point)

Pet sounds (like the actual sounds animals that live with us make. I don’t care about The Beach Boys)

[the-goose-caboose]

Cool summer night elegy

The fan whirring

The crickets chirping

The scent of air conditioner freshening the room

My laptop the loudest thing in my whole world

It’s gentle guiding music

Allowing me to create

My lap heated by the machine

But my top half comfortably cool

I long for another day

Where I do not fret about each detail and bit

But instead I just create

Without worry

The light sip of a drink

A room temperature lemonade

Tasty as ever

This strange simple comfort

This is what dreams are made of

[survey--s]

533.

What can you smell right now?    My scented candle, which apparently smells like “smoked roses”.

What was the last thing you bought online?   A cooling blanket and some air freshener for my car.

If you drink coffee, when was the last time you went a day without having one?   Whenever I had that horrendous flu/bug thing - it must have been back in February, I think?

Do you have any appointments coming up?   I have two jobs to do in a couple of hours. I have to go and feed Monty and then pop in on Charley the cat.

Do you put appointments in your phone’s calendar app to remember them?   Yeah.

Will you be visiting anyone’s house in the next week or so?   Yeah, my job involves going in/out of people’s houses lol. I also see my in-laws most days as they look after the dog for us while we work.

Have you ever been to a petting zoo? What animals did you pet?   Yeah, loads of times - goats, lambs, pigs, calves, hamsters, rabbits, guinea pigs, chicks, ducklings - all sorts.

What was the last movie you saw in theatres?   I haven’t been to the movies since before COVID lol.

Do you know anyone who has done a PhD?   Yeah, quite a few people.

How many unread emails are in your inbox right now?   Zero, I check/delete my e-mails as they come in.

What four apps do you keep on the home bar on your iPhone? (Sorry, I’m not sure if Android has an equivalent!) Phone, Spotify, Safari, Messages.

Have you ever used Tumblr? Do you still use it today?   No, this is all a figment of your imagination.

Are you tired right now?   A little bit, but not full-on exhausted or anything like that.

What’s your favourite day of the week and why?   It depends on the week and what I have planned, but generally weekends are the best for obvious reasons lol.

How far away is the nearest major city?   About two hours away.

Do you own an electric kettle?   Sure.

Are your eyebrows wispy or bushy?   Both lol.

Have you ever lost your wallet or purse? Did you have to replace a bunch of things?   I’ve lost my bank card a few times but I just froze it via the app and ordered a new one.

Where are you right now? Describe the room or place to me.   I’m in the living room as it’s bloody roasting outside. There are windows at each end - the front door is at one end, the kitchen door at the other and the upstairs door on far left as you come in. The walls are painted a mix of red and grey, the carpets are grey and so is the sofa, with red blankets/cushions to match the walls. All the furniture is white. There are fairylights all around the room and a scented candle burning above the fireplace.

Do you prefer big dogs or small dogs?   Medium sized dogs - around 15-25kg is perfect for me. Anything bigger and they’re generally too strong for me to handle safely, and any smaller and they’re just not really my thing, I guess.

Are you good at understanding heavy accents? Which accents would you say you’re the best at understanding?   For the most part I manage fine. I guess British accents.

Have you ever played on a real life pinball machine, or just on the computer?   Both.

Do you have a lot of word documents or notes on your computer?   No, I don’t think there any saved on here actually.

What’s your favourite Ben & Jerry’s flavour?   I’m not a fan of Ben & Jerry’s anymore. I loved it as a teenager but now it all tastes really sweet and artificial,.

Have you ever been to a school reunion? How was it?   No, and I have no interest in going to one.

How many nights a week do you generally cook at home?   I eat at home pretty much every night but I don’t always cook.

What colour are the street signs in your neighbourhood? Are they the same all over town or do they vary?   Like, the signs with street names on them? White with black lettering. That’s the same everywhere in the UK.

Do you have good grammar and punctuation skills?   Yes.

Have you ever tried vegan chicken? Did you like it? Yeah, I used to love Quorn stuff but now it makes me sick lol.