#two tiered coffee table

[alexandrastafford]

Open in Dallas An example of a formal, open-concept, mid-sized cottage Design for a living room in terra cotta tile and orange flooring with white walls, no fireplace, and a television stand

[psycholydia]

Traditional Family Room Large elegant open concept dark wood floor and brown floor family room photo with a bar, beige walls, no fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[exo-plushie]

Open Family Room Inspiration for a large timeless open concept light wood floor and brown floor family room remodel with gray walls, a standard fireplace, a tile fireplace and no tv

[benconradart]

Traditional Family Room Example of a large classic open concept dark wood floor and brown floor family room design with a bar, beige walls, no fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[fyeahhyolyn]

Living Room Open

Mid-sized, country-style, open-concept living room Idea for a living room with terra-cotta tile and an orange floor, white walls, no fireplace, and a tv stand.

[nicohayes]

Open in Dallas An example of a formal, open-concept, mid-sized cottage Design for a living room in terra cotta tile and orange flooring with white walls, no fireplace, and a television stand

[charlierises]

Transitional Family Room in Edmonton Example of a large transitional open concept medium tone wood floor and brown floor family room design with a bar, gray walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[nomaishuttle]

making my sillay little apartment checklist

[celebritieswithno-teeth]

Contemporary Family Room Design ideas for a mid-sized, enclosed, contemporary family room with white walls, no fireplace, and a wall-mounted TV. It will also have a light wood floor and a brown floor.

[justinrodgers]

Contemporary Family Room in Miami

Design ideas for a mid-sized, enclosed, contemporary family room with white walls, no fireplace, and a wall-mounted TV. It will also have a light wood floor and a brown floor.

[burreauxsworld]

Ours To Keep (2) | Joe Burrow

Angst/Fluff

Summary: Joe doesn’t have the best reaction to your news, and it causes some tension between the two of you.

••••••

You stared at Joe in confusion as he laughed.

“Good one, Y/N” he says, still laughing. “But if you’re going to play a prank on me, at least come up with a better joke” he adds as he calms down. “Joe, I’m not joking” you tell him quietly. “The acting was seriously top tier. How have you never shown that to me before? I mean the tears looked so real-“

“Joe I’m not kidding. I’m not trying to play a prank on you” you cut him off. “I’ve been nauseous all week, my boobs are incredibly sore, and I missed my period over a week ago” you explain, and he lets out a sigh. “There’s no possible way you could be pregnant. You’re on birth control. You have that thing in your arm” he reminds you, smiling again. “I think you’re being paranoid” he says causing you to scoff.

“Joe, this is serious-“

“You’re not pregnant. You sound crazy” he says pulling back from you. “Have I been working you too hard? Maybe it’s stress. Take the rest of the day off-“

“That doesn’t explain the positive pregnancy test on my bathroom counter” you argue starting to get aggravated. “I’ve been ignoring it for weeks. Hoping maybe I was a little bit crazy. But we weren’t exactly the most careful-“

“So you’re turning this around on me?” Joe asks, his jaw clenched. “No, I’m not-“

“That’s how it sounds. You were irresponsible and now you’re paying the price for it and taking it out on me” he spits with his eyes full of anger. “Last time I checked it takes two people for something like this to happen. I didn’t have sex with myself” you retort and he scoffs. “How could you let this happen? Do you know how much shit this is going to cause? I don’t need this right now. I have to go back to practice, and to be honest I’m not sure I even want you here right now. You’re dismissed for the day” Joe walked out of the office leaving you stunned.

You knew he might not have the best reaction but you didn’t think it would be like this. Joe has never spoken to you that way, even when he was at his worst. With tears in your eyes, you gathered your bag and slowly began to make your way toward the parking lot.

You had a lot of things running through your head, but one rash thought lingered and it made you sick to your stomach. It was going to be a long night.

•••

Later that night, you’re sitting on your couch with your laptop open in your lap. You decided to throw yourself into work, and Joe had a foundation event coming up that Robin asked you to help organize. Even mad at him you couldn’t let this go undone. His foundation was one of the most important things to him, and you kept telling yourself you were more so doing this for his parents. You’re about halfway through editing the announcement picture that would eventually be posted to the foundations instagram, when you heard a knock at your door.

Furrowing your brows, and setting your laptop on the glass coffee table, you walked over to the door and looked through the peep-hole. Your heart lurched at the sight of him. You open the door, and the two of you stare at each other for about a minute.

“You’re not here to throw me down the stairs, are you?” You ask, half joking.

Joe rolls his eyes, “can I come in?”

You move to the side and let him into your home. He kicks his shoes off, knowing you don’t like shoes on your light colored carpet. “What’s up? Why’d you stop by?” You ask, a sigh escaping your lips. You know exactly why he’s here, but you wanted to see what he had to say for himself. “I went home today after practice and had some time to think. The way I treated you was wrong and just absolutely disgusting” he says, stepping toward you, and you take a step back.

“I deserve that.” He says running his hand through his hair. “I never should have blamed you for this. This is just as much my fault, if not more. You did your part being safe, I’m the one that decided not to use condoms. That’s on me. I want you to know how sorry I am about today,” Joe says. You guys never breaking eye contact.

“You’re probably terrified, and I didn’t make it any easier-“

“That’s for sure.” You mutter. “Joe, I never meant for this to happen. And I’ve done a lot of thinking myself. I’m going to keep this baby. I’m not asking you for any help, I’m not asking you for any money. I’m fully prepared to do this by myself. I’ve started looking for another job-“

“Hang on a second-“

“You can sign your rights away. We don’t even have to tell anyone that the baby is yours. You’ll have no ties to it” you ramble, and he shakes his head. “That’s not what I want.” He states, his voice firm. “This is my kid, Y/N. Not just something I can pretend doesn’t exist. I want to do this with you, if you’ll let me” he pleads, reaching out to grab your hand.

“You really hurt me today, Joe.” You told him. “You made me feel like I ruined your life”

“I know, and I regret everything I said to you. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am. You didn’t ruin my life. Neither one of us could have anticipated this happening” he assures you. “I am so so sorry” he says, pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug. “I’m still very upset with you. It’s going to take some time to fully forgive you” you tell him, and he frowns, but he understands.

“I have a doctors appointment in the morning, if you’d like to come” you offer. “It’s just to confirm everything and get a due date and all that fun stuff”

“I’ll drive and buy you breakfast” he says, looking down at you. “Speaking of food, I’m starving” you groan, and he lets out a laugh. “Alright, I guess I’ll feed you” he jokes, making his way to your kitchen. “Ooh, can you make that pasta that I like? I’m pretty sure I have all of the ingredients” you ask with pleading eyes.

“Yes, I can make you the pasta. Pick a movie, and shut that laptop. Work is over for the day” he orders.

“Sir, yes, sir”

•••

The Next Day

“Well congratulations, Y/N. You are indeed pregnant,” the doctor says, entering the room after your test results finally come back. “Both the urine and blood test came back positive. Judging by the numbers on your results it’s looking like you’re around 8 or 9 weeks pregnant, that’s around 2 months and a week.. Which would make your due date sometime in February, but we can’t be sure until we do an ultrasound” the doctor explains.

“The next course of action is going to be removing your nexplanon and doing an ultrasound” she explains.

You look over at Joe, who’s listening intently. He hasn’t said much since the two of you got here, but you’re giving him time. He wants to be involved, but he processes things a different way. You respect that.

“We can schedule the ultrasound for about a week from now. I don’t have any available ultrasound techs today. So I have a list of appointments, and you can choose what works best for you and your schedule. All of them are on Monday. There’s a 9am, 10am, 12pm, 3pm, and 4pm-“

“We can do Monday at 9am” Joe says, and you look over at him. “You have practice on Monday” you remind him. He shrugs. “We only watch film for the first two hours on Monday, you know that. They’ll be fine without me for an hour” he assures you. “We’ll do Monday at 9am” you tell the doctor, knowing Joe wasn’t going to let up.

“Perfect. Stop at the front desk to check out on your way back out. See you Monday. Congratulations, again” she smiles as she leaves the room. You look back over at Joe. “You okay?” You ask, and he nods. “I’m good. Now let’s go get you guys some breakfast,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads through your chest. You slip your hand in his and he leads you out of the room.

•••

“What can I get you guys to drink?”

“I’ll take a coffee with extra cream and sugar” you say, and Joe protests. “You can’t have coffee. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby” he says, and you shoot him a glare that’s strong enough to cut. The waitress looks between the two of you hesitantly. . “I can have a little bit of caffeine,” you argue, and look back at waitress. “Ignore him. I’ll have a coffee” you say with a smile. It’s Joe’s turn to roll his eyes, as he orders a water for himself.

Once the waitress walks away, you kick Joe’s shin under the table. “You’re not going to be one of those overprotective fathers who dictates what I eat, drink, and do. I’m an adult. I can handle myself”

He lets out a sigh, knowing not to argue because your hormones are high right now. “Please do your research before acting like a control freak. I can have up to 200 grams of caffeine a day,” you tell him, and he sighs. “I just want to keep the two of you safe,” he admits, and you start to feel bad for going off on him.

“I appreciate that, Joey, but we’re good. We can handle a little bit of caffeine” you assure him, a slight smile on your face. The waitress returns with your drinks, and the proceeds to ask if you’re ready to order your food. “Can I have two over medium eggs, with hash browns, and toast?” The waitress writes down your order, Joe looks confused, but orders his blueberry pancakes and the waitress goes to put the order in.

“You hate eggs,” Joe comments.

“The baby wants them.”

Joe laughs, tossing his head back. ���What the baby wants, the baby gets”

~~~~~~~

Ahhh our guys won yesterday!! I’m so proud of them :)

[acamouflage]

Open Living Room Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary formal and open concept light wood floor living room remodel with white walls, a ribbon fireplace, a stone fireplace and a media wall

[bigpoppadean]

Transitional Family Room in Edmonton

[p0orbaby]

Could you do a blurb for alexia and reader and their daughters first bday? so fluffy it rottens my teeth

-

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the cake. It’s a two-tier monstrosity with pink icing and miniature elephants, because apparently, your daughter loves elephants. This is an assumption since she’s only one and her favourite activity seems to be slamming her tiny fists against the table and screaming at the Peppa Pig theme song. You glance over at Alexia, who’s meticulously arranging balloons into some sort of Pinterest-inspired arch. It’s tragic, really, because the balloons are deflating faster than her patience.

“You know she won’t remember any of this, right?” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching her struggle with a particularly rebellious balloon.

Alexia doesn’t look up. “It’s not for her,” she mutters, teeth gritted, “it’s for us. And the photos. For the grandparents. You know”

You do know. The grandparents, who’ll scrutinise every detail, subtly implying that the cake should’ve been homemade and the balloons should’ve been organic or something. You glance at the clock. Two hours until the guests arrive. Two hours until you’re knee-deep in small talk with people you barely tolerate, discussing the milestones of babies that are all the same. They roll over, they laugh, they scream, and then they eat something they shouldn’t.

Speaking of, the baby—your baby—is currently sitting in her high chair, aggressively smearing mashed banana across her face like it’s avant-garde war paint. You sigh. At least she’s quiet for once. There’s a moment of eerie calm, like you’re in the eye of a storm. It won’t last. You sip your coffee, which is lukewarm and bitter, and stare at the pile of gifts in the corner of the room.

“Why do people insist on wrapping things for a one-year-old?” you ask, more to yourself than Alexia. “She’s going to eat the paper. And cry. In that order”

Alexia finally gives up on the balloon arch. “You’re right,” she says, walking over and inspecting the cake like it might explode. “But they want to feel like they contributed something. Everyone’s desperate to be relevant in a baby’s life”

You nod, because that’s exactly it. The party isn’t for the baby, or for you, or even Alexia. It’s for all these people who want to feel like they’ve done something. Like attending a one-year-old’s birthday party is some kind of moral achievement. A gold star for being a functional human.

The doorbell rings, far too early for guests, which means it’s probably your neighbour, Carol, who always shows up with unsolicited advice on baby care, as though she invented parenting. You open the door, and sure enough, it’s Carol, holding a gift bag that screams I bought this on sale at El Corte Inglés.

“Thought I’d come early to help,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan the room, resting on the cake. “Oh, you didn’t make it yourself?”

“Bought it,” you say, deadpan. “From the shop. With money”

Carol doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even blink. “Ah, well, the important thing is she’ll enjoy it. At this age, it’s all about the memories”

You glance at your daughter, now vigorously attempting to fling the banana off her high chair.

“She won’t remember this,” you say, but Carol’s already unpacking her baby advice, Alexia’s gone back to fighting with the balloons, and you’re suddenly wondering why you didn’t just fake an illness and cancel the entire thing.

“Happy birthday,” you mutter, to no one in particular.

[sobbingscripter]

DAY 2: Two Turtle Doves

☃️A Holly Jolly Wayne Gala☃️

Tags: [aged up!][semi-public][mommy kink][subby Tim Drake][m4f][handjob][fem!reader][whiny][twink][he's 19][mdni?]

❄️☃️❄️

Tinsel strung along each wall of the ridiculously lavish venue.

But that's exactly what to expect from a Wayne gala. Extravagance and luxurious.

A plethora of waiters carry different trays, with festive treats and holiday-themed cocktails. You remain near the bar, nursing a Shirley Santa, which is just a regular, rosy Shirley Temple, with salt around the rim to represent the fluff on Santa Clause's hat.

The live band continues to play music, low and festive that seems to drown out in the presence of the chatter between social elites, various red dresses, tailored suits and expensive scents seem to blend together.

At least when compared to that smell of strong, Moroccan coffee that seems to cling to one of Bruce Wayne's wards, particularly the twink one.

Inky hair in an undercut, unsually shaky hands and the ghosts of eyebags below cerulean pools. An almost girlishly pretty face, as he grabs what looks like his third mug of coffee for the evening.

"You know, coffee's not good for a growing boy."

Tim glances at you, maybe an inch or two taller, not by much, and from this distance, you can see glimpses of his lean physique.

Top. Tier. Twink.

"I'm 19." Tim speaks softly, his voice a refreshing, boyish timbre in the cacophony of nasally, and the occasional faux British accent tossed in to imitate class and decorum.

"Men stop growing at like... 21." You chide him gently, before taking the mug from his hand and setting it down beside him, on the table he's leaning against.

He simply stares up at you, big blue eyes locked on your face.

He's not entirely unfamiliar to you, especially since he has a penchant of staring at you whenever he's in the same room as you. Which, seeing as you're interning at Wayne Enterprises, is surprisingly a lot.

In the cafeteria, in the elevator. Almost everywhere. Except the women's bathroom.

Which... now, is kind of crossed out.

"Oh.... shit, please...please... please.... mommy.."

Tim's whines are muffled by your palm, your other hand wrapped around his pretty cock, leaky pink tip occasionally peeking out from your fisted hand with each tentative stroke you give him.

His eyes are half-lidded, hands fisting the fabric of your dress as you press and feather numerous kisses to the curve of his neck, the collar of his shirt untidy and unbuttoned.

"Faster...—please, go faster."

Tim begs, lashes fluttering as your palm glides against the sensitive skin of his shaft, his muscular hips rocking into your hand in a poor attempt to gain more friction, more feeling.

Desperate for that release, that pace you've been denying him.

"You're asking me to go faster but your knees are buckling." You tease him, teeth nipping at his pierced lobe before you pull away, looking down at his slumped form, back pressed against the door of the bathroom stall.

"So pretty." You croon quietly, before capturing his lips in a deep, somewhat sloppy kiss which he immediately returns. Messy, uncoordinated and his hands grasp at your waist,

One of Tim's hands shakily grip the back of your thigh, raising your leg to bracket his hip and he ruts against your hand, eyes fluttered shut as he imagines himself fucking you, rather than your hand.

Your dress rides up, a generous sliver of thigh and a glimpse of your panties visible, a sight that has him moaning into the kiss.

God, he's so pretty.

Fluttering lashes, tears brimming in his pretty blue eyes, a messy undercut and biting his bottm lip each time you pull away to kiss along his jaw.

"Please..." Tim whines softly, the crown of his head falling back against the stall door and he feels his pretty cock twitch needily, beads of precum running down his shaft and dropping down from his tightly drawn balls. "Oh... fuck.."

Your hand clamps tighter over his mouth when the bathroom door opens, and two sets of heels collide with the marble tiles and Tim stares at you, wide-eyed and nervous.

And you can't help it, as your fist slowly continues to move, pumping him and watching the way his face gets warmer and his eyes roll back in his head.

A muffled whimper slips out from behind your hand, stifled by the sound of a tap being opened and Tim jets onto the soft, cottony fabric of your panties, hot cum soaking through the already sodden material and he whines.

"That's it, baby..." You croon sweetly, pressing soft kisses to the side of his face and his neck, his tie a limp ghost of his decency, his knees buckling and his body limp, and lax against the door.

You can feel the way your cum drips from your inner thighs, and Tim's eyes lower to the sight, running his pink tongue along his bottom lip.

"You...— can I clean you up..?" He breathes out. "Please mommy?"

His voice is hoarse, and before you can even answer, he drops to his knees, his hands bracketing your thighs and his nose brushes against your clothed clit, before his tongue darts tentatively.

Licking and smearing his tongue in the cum that coats your panties, dragging his tongue along your soaked folds, cleaning it up and sucking on your folds through the panties.

With each pass of his tongue, dragging up your plush thighs, a shaky breath leaves him.

"You taste so good..." Looking up at you through bleary eyes, his soft cock still twitching, dribbles of cum staining his already inky suit pants and you card your fingers through his silky strands.

And he shudders at the sensation, eyes nearly rolling back in his head when he feels your thigh rest on one of his lean shoulders, watching with wide eyes as you slowly peel your panties to the side, slippery folds just in front of him.

And God, does it feel like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey.

"I think you missed a spot, honey."

[fyeahhyolyn]

Open Living Room