#Showroom Floor Coverings

[morefloor12]

Showroom Floor Coverings

When it comes to creating an inviting and functional showroom, the choice of floor coverings plays a crucial role. A well-designed floor not only enhances the aesthetic appeal but also supports the overall brand image and functionality of the space. At More Floor, we understand the importance of selecting the right flooring solution for your showroom. This blog will explore various types of showroom floor coverings, their benefits, and tips for choosing the best option for your specific needs.

The Importance of Showroom Floor Coverings

Aesthetic Appeal

Showroom floor coverings set the tone for the entire space. They can create a welcoming atmosphere that showcases products effectively. The right flooring can enhance colors, textures, and designs, making products stand out and encouraging customer engagement.

Durability and Longevity

Showrooms experience high foot traffic, which means flooring must withstand wear and tear. Durable floor coverings not only maintain their appearance over time but also save costs associated with replacements and repairs.

Maintenance

Selecting floor coverings that are easy to clean and maintain is essential for showrooms. A clean and well-maintained floor reflects professionalism and attention to detail, which can influence customer perceptions.

Types of Showroom Floor Coverings

1. Carpet Tiles

Carpet tiles offer versatility and comfort. They can be easily installed, replaced, and rearranged, allowing for creativity in design. Available in various colors and patterns, carpet tiles can create a cozy atmosphere while providing sound insulation.

Benefits:

Easy to install and maintain

Comfortable underfoot

Variety of design options

2. Vinyl Flooring

Vinyl flooring, including PVC options, is known for its durability and water resistance. It comes in various styles, mimicking wood, stone, or tile, making it suitable for any showroom aesthetic.

Benefits:

Water-resistant and easy to clean

Wide range of design options

Cost-effective and durable

3. Laminate Flooring

Laminate flooring is a popular choice for showrooms due to its affordability and realistic wood appearance. It is scratch-resistant and easy to maintain, making it ideal for high-traffic areas.

Benefits:

Budget-friendly

Easy installation

Resistant to scratches and dents

4. Hardwood Flooring

Hardwood flooring exudes elegance and sophistication. While it requires more maintenance than other options, its timeless appeal can enhance the overall look of a showroom.

Benefits:

Natural beauty and warmth

Long-lasting and durable

Can increase property value

5. Tile Flooring

Tile flooring is another durable option, especially for showrooms displaying products like ceramics or home improvement materials. It is available in various materials, including porcelain and ceramic, and can withstand heavy foot traffic.

Benefits:

Highly durable and water-resistant

Easy to clean

Available in numerous designs and finishes

6. Concrete Flooring

Concrete flooring is versatile and can be polished or stained to achieve a modern look. It is incredibly durable and can withstand heavy loads, making it suitable for industrial-style showrooms.

Benefits:

Extremely durable and low maintenance

Can be customized with stains and finishes

Eco-friendly options available

Factors to Consider When Choosing Showroom Floor Coverings

1. Foot Traffic

Evaluate the amount of foot traffic your showroom receives. High-traffic areas will require more durable flooring options, while lower-traffic zones may allow for more delicate materials.

2. Aesthetic Goals

Consider the overall design theme of your showroom. Choose flooring that complements your brand colors and enhances product displays.

3. Maintenance Requirements

Think about how much time and effort you can dedicate to maintaining your showroom floor. Some materials require more upkeep than others, so select one that fits your maintenance capabilities.

4. Budget

Establish a budget for your flooring project. There are options available at every price point, so it’s essential to balance quality with cost.

5. Comfort

If customers will be spending considerable time in your showroom, comfort is key. Soft flooring options like carpet tiles may provide a more comfortable experience than harder surfaces.

Installation Tips for Showroom Floor Coverings

1. Professional Installation

Consider hiring professionals for installation, especially for more complex flooring types like hardwood or tile. Proper installation ensures longevity and enhances the overall appearance.

2. Preparation and Planning

Before installation, prepare the subfloor by ensuring it is clean, dry, and level. This step is crucial for the longevity of your flooring.

3. Acclimation

Allow materials like hardwood to acclimate to the showroom environment before installation. This helps prevent issues related to expansion or contraction.

4. Layout Planning

Plan your layout carefully, particularly for tile and carpet patterns. A well-thought-out design can create visual interest and flow within the showroom.

Maintenance Tips for Showroom Floor Coverings

1. Regular Cleaning

Establish a regular cleaning routine to keep your showroom floor looking its best. This may include sweeping, vacuuming, and mopping, depending on the flooring type.

2. Use Appropriate Cleaning Products

Always use cleaning products that are suitable for your specific flooring material. Harsh chemicals can damage certain surfaces, so it’s essential to follow manufacturer recommendations.

3. Protective Measures

Implement protective measures such as mats at entrances to reduce dirt and debris entering the showroom. Additionally, consider using furniture pads to prevent scratches on the floor.

4. Repair and Maintenance

Address any damage promptly to prevent further issues. For instance, replace damaged carpet tiles or re-seal hardwood floors as needed.

Conclusion

Choosing the right showroom floor coverings is vital for creating a functional and inviting space that showcases your products effectively. At More Floor, we offer a wide range of high-quality flooring options tailored to meet the unique needs of your showroom. Whether you prefer the elegance of hardwood, the versatility of vinyl, or the comfort of carpet tiles, we have the perfect solution for you. With careful consideration and the right choice, your showroom can leave a lasting impression on customers, enhancing their overall experience.

For more information or to explore our extensive collection of floor coverings, contact us today!

Visit: https://www.morefloor.ch/

[mcluxurybangalore]

Enhance Bathroom Ambience with Luxurious Flooring & Tiles

1. Marble Opulence Marble is synonymous with luxury and is a popular choice for high-end bathrooms. Its natural elegance, unique veining patterns, and smooth surface bring an undeniable sense of grandeur. Consider Carrara marble for a classic, timeless look with delicate gray veins, or opt for Calacatta marble for a more dramatic effect with bolder, contrasting veins. The best tile showroom in Bangalore will offer an extensive selection of premium marble tiles to cater to your specific style preferences.

2. Sophisticated Mosaics

Mosaic tiles are a fantastic option for adding a touch of sophistication to your bathroom. These small, intricately designed tiles come in a variety of materials, such as glass, stone, or metal, and can be arranged in captivating patterns. Opt for shimmering glass mosaic tiles to create a glamorous focal point, or choose natural stone mosaics for a more organic and earthy ambiance. Best tile showroo in Bangalore will have an impressive collection of mosaic tiles to suit your taste and elevate your bathroom’s elegance.

3. Luxury Porcelain and Ceramic

Porcelain and ceramic tiles offer a wide range of luxurious options for bathroom flooring and wall coverings. With advancements in technology, these tiles can replicate the look of natural materials, such as marble or hardwood, while providing exceptional durability and easy maintenance. Choose large-format porcelain tiles with a marble-inspired design to create a seamless, opulent look, or explore textured ceramic tiles with intricate patterns for a visually captivating wall covering.

4. Timeless Wood-Effect Tiles If you desire the warmth and elegance of wood but prefer the durability and moisture resistance of tiles, luxury wood-effect tiles are the perfect solution. These porcelain or ceramic tiles beautifully mimic the natural grains and textures of various wood species. From rich mahogany to rustic oak, you can create a luxurious bathroom floor that exudes warmth and sophistication.

[woso-dreamzzz]

IKEA

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Sam Kerr x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You go to IKEA

It was Guro's fault.

Everyone could agree on that, though Guro insisted it was actually Millie's fault for bringing up the idea of a trip to IKEA in the first place.

Everyone else disagreed because Guro was the one that was meant to be holding your hand before you disappeared.

Either way, you were gone and they were fucked.

"I mean," Erin says as they wander through the winding halls of IKEA," She's Swedish so this place must be a second home. She's probably not lost."

"She's practically a baby," Millie replies bluntly, dipping into one of the showrooms to check you're not hiding there," I think we should be more worried about someone kidnapping her."

"You don't think she's been kidnapped, right?" Guro asks, gnawing on her bottom lip as she glances around," I mean, no one actually kidnaps kids, nowadays? Right? I thought we've moved past that."

"No one's kidnapped her!" Sam insists," She's somewhere around this place. We'll grab her and not let Magda and Pernille know she even got lost."

The others nod in agreement before Millie makes the choice to split everyone up. They'd cover more ground by themselves and hopefully find you a bit quicker.

IKEA is already a maze for normal people. She doesn't want to think about how confusing it must be for such a little kid.

Although, you don't think you're lost at all. It's not your fault that Guro got distracted by something and told you that you were free to wander for a little bit. You didn't mean to go so far and out of sight but this shop is exciting.

It got even more exciting when you hit the toy section. There's lots of toys for you to choose from so you're not quite sure which one you would like.

All of them would be a good choice but Momma only gave you a little bit of money to spend and you're just learning your numbers but you know that it's not enough to buy everything.

That's a little sad but Morsa's always told you that you can't have everything so this must be one of those times.

You keep staring at them though, eyes wide as you try to decide which one you want to take home with you.

You can hear movement behind you, footsteps pounding on the shiny floor. You don't turn around though.

This shop is busy so it must be someone trying to find something. You don't want to get in their way so you press a bit closer towards the toys.

Sam doesn't want to let you remain lost any longer and she certainly doesn't want to call Magda and Pernille to let them know.

Her feet pound against the linoleum as she tries to find you.

Erin's stayed behind to check where they've lost you while Sam, Millie and Guro have moved forward to check in the other areas you could have wandered to, peeling off from each other to cover more ground.

Sam's hoping she can sprint to the exit before you can get there with your little legs. Even if she can't, she's sure none of the staff will ignore a little girl wandering around by herself so hopefully, one of them can nab you and announce your disappearance through the tannoy system.

Sam's sprinting so fast that she almost misses you.

Almost.

Before she got to take you out for the day, Magda and Pernille made her memorise what you're wearing, just in case you wandered off a bit like now. She'd been made to stand on their doorstep with her eyes closed as she recited exactly what you wearing, straight down to your sock colour and pattern.

It comes in handy now as, out of the corner of her eye, Sam catches sight of the exact same colour of your shirt and leggings.

She skids to a stop, turning around to look properly.

You're right there, head tilted up to study the big bear toy in the crate in front of you.

"Hey!"

You recognise the sound of Sam's voice behind you and turn to look at her.

"Sam!" You say," I have enough?"

You hold out your fistful of money out to her to inspect.

"W-What?!"

"I have enough money for the bear?" You elaborate, pointing at the toy you want and shaking your hand to draw her attention back from your face to your money.

"You scared us!" Sam says instead," Why did you leave?"

You frown. "I didn't leave. Guro said I could walk by myself for a bit."

Sam's just about to tear her hair out at your clear misinterpretation of Guro's words. "Okay, well-"

"Sam!" Guro comes sprinting up behind her. "Pernille's calling! What do I do?!"

You tilt your head to the side in confusion. "Why are you scared of Momma calling?"

"Oh my god! We found you!"

"I found her," Sam replies, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't hide!" You say stubbornly, stamping your foot on the ground," Making a new friend!" You point at the big bear you want to buy.

"That's nice," Guro says before her phone is pressed against your ear," Talk to Pernille."

"Hi Momma!" You chirp," I'm buying a bear!"

"Hi, princesse," Pernille coos in your ear, finally feeling settled and calm now that Guro finally picked up her fifth call," Are you having fun?"

You nod before realising this is a phone call and Momma can't see you so you speak again," Yes! Sam was running to find-"

Sam's hand covers your mouth and she hurries to speak. "To find a new lamp! Helen broke my last one."

At home, Pernille frowns, waving over Magda and putting the phone on speaker.

"You were running to find a new lamp?"

Sam chuckles awkwardly. "Er...yeah...I'm really into lamps. Did I not tell you?"

It's clear this is the first time Magda's hearing of it too, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Sam?" She asks.

Sam squeaks hearing Magda's voice and her own goes very high pitched as she replies. "Yes, Magda?"

"What kind of lamp do you recommend?" Magda asks," I've been thinking of getting a new one."

"Er...One that fits next to your bed?"

"Uh-huh. What about decoration? Just plain or pattern?"

"Er...I think...Erm...You can get patterned lamps?"

Magda rolls her eyes. "Put my daughter on the phone, Sam." There's a rustle. "Princesse, can you tell me what Sam was searching for?"

"She thought I was hiding!" You giggle and Magda can hear squabbling in the background. "Which is silly because I wasn't! I think she thought I was lost!"

You keep giggling and Pernille takes a very deep breath.

"Princesse," She says," Please put Sam and Guro back on the phone, please. Morsa and I need to talk to them."

"Okay, Momma!"

"Sam, Guro," Magda says through clenched teeth," You get Erin and Millie and you get back to this house within the hour."

"Do-Do we have to?"

"Yes!"

[vexwerewolf]

Showrooms of LANCER Manufacturers

IPS-N

IPS-N showrooms are what you'd get if you slammed a truck dealership, a hardware store, a camping gear shop and a sports bar together in the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid. We're talking row upon row of shelves stocked with the most precision-engineered engine parts you can print on one side of the floor, and on the other, durable, hard-wearing survival gear. Camping stoves you can run off of your mech's coldcore, sleeping bags that'll survive a HEX charge, automatic camo cloth, the works.

Right down the middle, you've got the mech floor. They've got the Tortuga. They've got the Blackbeard. They've got the Drake. They've got the Lancaster and the Kidd. They've got the Vlad (they put a chain-link fence covered in DO NOT TOUCH signs around that one after the infamous CFO's 10-year-old Incident). They've even got the Raleigh, kinda tucked away a little bit behind the water feature, but it's there!

Everything on the shop floor is ruggedized to the point that you could take a mech's fist to it without leaving a dent - and they sometimes do that to demonstrate the engineering quality. There's a giant screen hanging from the ceiling displaying constant advertising for the mechs and IPS-N in general, usually striding purposefully through idyllic Diasporan wilderness or doing hard, honest work like starship loading or construction. There's a mixtape of the most famous bro-country hits playing 24/7.

Smith-Shimano Corpro

In a word: bespoke. Everything in this place is custom. Each and every desk is individually built according to the height of the salesperson who sits behind it, and manages to be a unique art piece without disrupting the overarching aesthetic of the showroom. Whenever there's a change of staff on the sales floor, they rearrange every single desk so that they're still in ascending order.

All of the salespeople are inhumanly pretty, by the way. This atelier has its own fully-staffed makeup and wardrobe team. You're part of a work of art when you work for SSC. Everything and everyone gleams. Even the most chic visitors might feel underdressed in the midst of all this splendour.

The mechs aren't just there to be sold, they're there to be part of the experience. You might see a Monarch holding up the ceiling like the titan Atlas himself. A Mourning Cloak might be posed provocatively like a nude statue. That Swallowtail - is it in a slightly different position every time you see it, or is that just its camouflage decals? How does it always manage to be just inside your line of sight, even when you're looking somewhere else?

They have a catwalk, like you'd see at a fashion show, but it's sized for mechs. If they really think you might make a purchase, they'll queue up the entire performance for you, and you'll get to see a Viceroy strut.

The mix tape for this showroom is a seamless mixture of complex jazz, psychedelic ambient and classical piano music. It's sophisticated and mysterious.

Harrison Armory

Imagine if America could be a showroom. Harrison Armory mech outlets are part dealership, part museum. Every mech is in its own diorama, depicting some heroic event in the Armory's glorious history. A phalanx of Sherman Mk. Is holds the line against some Diasporan slaver-tyrant's army. A Saladin fends off Karrakin hordes during the Interest War. The Genghis Mk. II? Oh, that diorama isn't open right now, it had to be closed for *coughcoughcough* and *coughcoughcough* but let's move on shall we heh heh

Everyone who works here has been in the Colonial Legion at some point, and knows every specification of the mechs they sell off by heart without even looking at their slate. If possible, the Armory tries to employ people who have actual combat experience with the mechs they're selling; people who can speak to the efficacy of their technology first-hand. It's one of the many programs which the Armory has open for retired veterans; it's easy work for decent pay, good benefits and it looks great on your Social.

The music here is a constant loop of patriotic Armory anthems. If you've ever heard the music from Starship Troopers, or the Outbreak of War from Star Ocean, you'll know what I'm talking about.

HORUS

Being a decentralized omninet collective with no official branding or even consistent manufacturing standards, it should come as no surprise that HORUS has no showrooms.

ERR:CONNECTION_INTERRUPT

CartesianWhisper: P55555t CartesianWhisper: Ignore that 5hithead CartesianWhisper: They don't have any idea what they're talking about CartesianWhisper: You want a mech, kid? CartesianWhisper: And I'm not talking the tra5h the Purv5 try to 5ell you CartesianWhisper: Or that overpriced garbage 55C want5 you to mortgage your genetic5 for CartesianWhisper: Or the macho trucker bull5hit IP5-N i5 trying to hawk CartesianWhisper: I'm talking about the REAL DEAL CartesianWhisper: The PROPER 5TUFF CartesianWhisper: Log on to rgx0582.node-7.c4l.omni CartesianWhisper: I'll 5how you what true power mean5 >:]

[scarletssienna]

Beggin' for Footnotes

Summary - Some things aren’t meant to last forever. And despite you and Wanda loving each other you’re not sure if it’s going to work out anymore. 4.0k word count

Warnings - Hurt (not much comfort), heavy angst, swearing, mommy Wanda, oral, fingering, face slapping, sub!reader, degradation, praise, begging, dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, hair pulling, mean Wanda, edging, face-sitting, thigh riding

AN - This is my first post on here! I’ve done writings in the past but I thought I’d try a new format and space to post it! :)) I plan on continuing this if I can find the energy lol!

Part 2

18+, minors + men dni

Not every love was supposed to last. No matter how great, how wonderful, sometimes things still end. You knew Wanda like the back of your hand. And she knows you all the same. So when one of her vices came up after one of your worst fights, you could only watch. Wanda stood out on the back porch. Cigarette between her two fingers as she stared off into the darkness. There was this empty sickening in both of your stomachs that this may be the end. At this point, all options and solutions had been exhausted. You knew it was time. You watched out the kitchen window, unable to tear your eyes away as she slowly inhaled before a large cloud of smoke dissipated into the air, the cold temperatures enhancing it. Your fingers squeezed the sponge from the sink as soapy water flooded between your fingers. The dishes had been long forgotten lately as neither of you had had the energy to wash them. This was unusual for Wanda as she liked to keep the house showroom ready at all times. You forcefully ripped your eyes away from her as you began to wash the dishes, trying to make up for anything you could. To fix what you could in this messy situation. 

The house that had once been so loud with laughter and joy now lingered in empty silence. Your playlist of every song you two had loved played softly over the speakers around the house. If it had been several months ago you would have pulled her closely in your arms, dancing around the kitchen despite her laughs and teases about how cheesy it was. Her nose would crinkle as you sang along in Sokovian to one of her favorite songs. You butchered the pronunciation, but you would try, she could tell. She would have given in eventually and threaded her hands in your hair as she rested her forehead against yours. You would have kissed her, kissed her as if she was going to leave the second you let go. In this reality, she very well might.

You watched out the window again for a moment before getting distracted by the dish you were washing. The knife in your hands harshly tore against your flesh and you quickly dropped the knife into the sink, a soft yelp leaving your lips. You backed away quickly as blood began to drip down your hand. It was a quick scramble for the kitchen towel as you tried to stop the bleeding. Wanda had always been there to comfort you when you were injured in the past. You bit the inside of your cheek trying to stop it as tears quickly began to fall on your face. You let off a soft sob as you abandoned the dishes, heading upstairs to your shared bedroom. Hurrying into the bathroom you discarded the bloodied towel onto the sink countertops and washed the wound before messily bandaging it up. You had never been very good at doing it yourself so Wanda had always insisted on caring for you but you didn't think that was very well an option at this point. 

Tears flooded down your face as the events from the night tore your heart into shreds. You were no longer crying due to the injury. It was a different kind of pain. You stumbled over to the bed and threw your pants onto the floor before climbing into your side of the bed. The sheets were quickly pulled up to your chin as your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs. Quickly, you drifted off into a tired and pained sleep. 

When Wanda returned inside she hadn't expected to see dishes washed especially as she investigated further and saw the drops of blood on the floor and a bloody knife in the sink. Despite the fight, she still cared and loved you. She quickly rushed upstairs in an attempt to find you. When she noticed the door slightly ajar and silence in the room she quietly peaked her head in. She sighed relieved when she saw you asleep in bed, seemingly uninjured from her view. The smell of cigarettes covered her and she wandered quietly off to the bathroom to take a shower, shutting the bathroom door behind her. For everyone but you her walls were high. She hardly let anyone in. and when she did, it felt as if it always ended this way. The feeling of being cursed towards relationships had set in. She washed her hair, going over the fight in her head as she wondered what could have gone differently, how she could save it. If it was even worth it at this point. 

Tensions had been rising over the past couple of weeks. You both had been working too much recently and had hardly had time for one another. It seemed as if every day was the same. Wake up, go to work, sleep, repeat. It had been killing you both. The littlest things set you both off. It would end up in screaming matches and sleeping alone every time. What set you both over the edge this time was not so little. Natasha, your mutual friend, had begun flirting with you. While she respected your relationship, she had always believed you two were not good for each other. So when you fought last week and you ended up at her house she had done nothing but comfort you. You thought nothing of Natashas' intentions but Wanda knew otherwise. This had sent her into a fit of rage when Natasha dropped you off this morning and kissed your cheek goodbye. 

You both fought for hours, arguing about anything that came to mind, but mainly Natasha. Had you understood and been able to read her mind as well, you would have understood her intentions and sided with Wanda, not seeing Natasha anymore. But you couldn't and this frustrated Wanda. When she attempted to control your mind you quickly noticed and this sent you two further down the line of fighting. You hated it when she used her powers on you. When you thought to yourself that you wished you could just forget everything that had happened Wanda broke. She had misunderstood. Thinking you had meant forgetting her. Silence fell over the fight and she went outside to have a cigarette. Her thoughts consumed her as her heart hurt. 

With how often the fights had been recently as well as how busy you've been, you'd not been intimate in weeks. The tension begins to tear you both apart. When she finished her shower she pulled on an old t-shirt and shorts before popping her head out the bathroom door to check if you were still sleeping. When she saw you, she had to determine what to do. Did she sleep with you? Or did she go to the guest room? She decided that you wouldn't want her in bed and quietly tip-toed to the guest room based on what she had misunderstood. That night she cried herself to sleep as well. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

When you woke up the next morning you sat up groggily and sighed to yourself as you didn't see Wanda in bed, the memories of the night prior sinking in. Despite your anger you went to see where she had slept for the night, mostly just wanting to make sure she hadn't ended up locked out on the porch freezing to death. You saw her asleep in the guest room, her makeup smudged and muddled from tears, and her shower. You sighed and went back to your room to get ready for the day. It was unusual for you to be up first and you made use of it, quietly leaving for work before she awoke. 

You returned home late that night, having gone to the bar after work with a few co-workers to unwind and relax. All you could think about was Wanda and the ache between your legs grew. You were mad, but maybe you needed that. You quietly entered the house, making a note to lock the door behind you before heading to find Wanda. You weren't extremely intoxicated, but the anger, lack of quality sleep, stress, and tequila were having a bit of an impact. You could tell she had been home for a couple of hours, the discarded takeout garbage by the trash. Suddenly she caught your eye outside on the back porch. Of course, she was smoking again. You thought to yourself before acting on impulse. You went to the door and harshly pulled the sliding door open. She let out a startled gasp that didn't happen often as she always seemed aware of your presence. 

“Get inside.” You said firmly in a tone that had been unusual for you to take on with her. You had always been the more submissive in the relationship. The words shocked you both a little. She obliged anyway, out of more surprise than anything. She put the cigarette out before coming inside. You shut the door behind her, looking into her eyes before quickly pressing her against the door in a bruising kiss. She yelped out of surprise before kissing back, her hands tangling into your hair. She ignored the taste of tequila on your lips as she knew she tasted like cigarettes and couldn't defend herself for that. 

You made quick work of snaking your hand underneath her shirt, groping her chest as your tongues began to fight. She had never seen this level of dominance out of you. While it surprised and intrigued her, she couldn't have it. You both knew you were just trying to get a reaction out of her as it had been entirely too long since you two had done anything together. Her hand tightened with a grip of your hair as she roughly pulled your head back, quickly beginning to kiss and nip at your neck. You let out a moan as she tugged at your hair, stumbling backward slightly as she pushed you off of her. 

“Upstairs. “ She muttered firmly. You could see the darkness in her eyes and did not question it, quickly moving upstairs to your room. The past few weeks your dynamic had been shallow and lacking. You both needed rules in life. You need a guideline to follow, and she needs an outlet of control. When you got upstairs you looked around the room, taking several deep breaths before going to crack a window to get some airflow. Your jaw clenched as you took a few deep breaths trying to focus on relaxing. You closed the curtains forcefully, a little too forcefully perhaps as they, along with the curtain rod came tumbling down. Your heart sank as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall as you knew Wanda would be mad. As you heard her footsteps approach you quickly tugged off your shirt, tossing it in a pile alongside your discarded pants. You had already dug your grave and it was getting deeper. Thoughts raced through your head about what punishment would come. The more you thought the more your legs pressed together for any kind of release you could gain. Just as you sat down on the bed the door swung open. “What the hell was that?” She asked. Her voice was angry and her accent began to peak through her words as she spoke. Her head quickly turned and noticed the window. “Did you do this?” she asked in almost a patronizing tone. She knew you did it, the guilt on your face was obvious. 

You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth as she spoke, gnawing on it nervously as you considered your options. Slowly, you shook your head, the hesitation clear as tears brimmed your eyes. She walked over to you, one eyebrow raised in a way that she knew made you weak in the knees. She raised her hand before a loud echoing slap hit your cheek. You let out a moan and pressed your legs together harder as tears finally fell.  “Lying gets you nowhere. I'll ask you again, Detka.” she paused, faining tenderness as she wiped a tear away from your face. “Did you do this?” every word she spoke was drawn out and stern as she raised her eyebrow and held your chin in place, forcing you to look into her eyes. Slowly you began to nod, bracing yourself for the slap you knew was about to come. When she raised her hand a slap did not come. Instead, she giggled at your flinch and reached down, snapping your bra snap on your shoulder. “This is what happens when little girls try to do things that are too big for them,” she spoke slowly, making sure each word sunk in. “You didn't even have time to fully undress for Mommy.” she shook her head and snapped your bra strap once again before pushing you to lay back on the bed. She climbed on top of you, straddling one of your thighs as she ground her hips, working herself up. 

“Please Mommy,” you whined out softly as your hips raised into her, begging for any amount of pleasure you could get. Another slap fell hard across your cheek and you felt your thoughts slowly drift further into a fuzzy headspace. You moaned at the feeling. Her hand was wet from the tears that had fallen down your face and she made it a point to wipe her hand on your bare stomach. 

“I didn’t permit you to speak. Did I?” She asked firmly as she leaned down, kissing and nipping at your neck. You shook your head frantically as you struggled to keep your hands by your sides.  She slid her hands back up your stomach and muttered under her breath. “Good girl.” Before pulling your bra down to reveal your breasts. She wasted no time as she quickly kissed down towards your chest, taking the small bud into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around your nipple as her hand snaked down into your panties, finally touching you where you needed it most. She gasped dramatically and pulled her head up, locking eyes with you when she felt your wetness. Your face turned a deep shade of red as she proceeded to tease and taunt you for how wet you had been at her from only just slapping and teasing you. All of your thoughts were consumed by her in a fuzzy bliss. 

Without warning she slipped two fingers inside of you easily. Her fingers made quick work of pumping in and out, stretching and curling them just where you needed it most. You moaned loudly and wrapped your arms around her back, pulling her body closer to you as you hid your face in her shoulder, biting down softly on the tender flesh. This depicted a soft moan from Wanda as her hips jerked slowly against your thigh. She pulled her body back with a grin as she began to bite softly across your jaw. 

“Let me see your pretty face baby. I want to see you while I fuck you.” She said her fingers worked faster, her thumb reaching up to touch your throbbing clit. You blushed red as you looked into her eyes. The moon was shining through the window casting a moonlit glow across her face, a smirk forming across it. Just as quickly as she worked you up to an orgasm, she stopped. She pulled her hand away quickly and you found yourself frantically reaching for her wrist as your hips jerked underneath her.

“No! Mommy!” You yelled out exasperated as tears fell quickly from your eyes at the loss of sensation. She smirked down at you, her tongue slowly licking her lips. 

“You didn't think I'd let you cum that quickly after what a brat you've been the past few weeks little girl?” She asked in a patronizing manner as she pulled her hand out of your panties and brought her fingers to her lips. You moaned at the sight, her tongue licking her fingers clean, making a show of the process. Her fingers then slid into your mouth and you groaned at the taste of your arousal mixed with her. Your tongue swirled around her fingers as you proceeded to suck her fingers. 

“Please Mommy.” was all you could seem to muster out after she pulled her fingers out of your mouth. Your mind was clouded and fogged and just where Wanda wanted it. 

“Silly me,” she smiled as she looked down. “Mommy has been giving you all the pleasure, she completely forgot to undress.” she motioned towards her clothes before standing up. You groaned and reached for her when she stood, no longer touching you. You let out a soft murmur as your hands grabbed at her shirt, pressing your legs together. She stripped before walking back towards you. She tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them towards the pile of clothes before doing the same with your bra. You couldn't help but notice the wetness that had soaked Wanda's panties and now glistened her thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight as all you wanted to do was taste her. 

You knew how often you had fought lately and how the arguments left you due for punishment. You just weren't exactly sure what form it would take. Anticipation flooded through your body as you looked up into her eyes, your eyes wide and innocent. 

“You're going to eat me out until I cum, maybe then I'll give you what you want,” she stated firmly as she squeezed at your hips. Her touches were not gentle. Her fingers dug into your tender flesh, all of her anger, stress, and tension coming out onto you. You moaned at the touch, more sensitive and aware with each touch and mark she left across your body. She let go with a slap to your thigh and you groaned at the loss of her. You sat up and watched as she moved around the room, sitting on the bed in the middle, spreading her legs for you as she watched with dark eyes. “Come make Mommy feel good.” Her voice dripped with arousal as her words of encouragement enticed you further, not that it took much at this point though.

Quickly you moved and settled yourself between her legs. You slowly began kissing up her thighs, licking the path of arousal she had left for you. She grumbled impatiently above you, clearly already ready for attention where she needed it. Her hand snaked through your hair, gently at first as it stroked your scalp. She then grabbed a fistful, tugging your hair harshly as she forced you up higher, pushing your head between her legs. At the tug, you let out a loud moan as you cursed under your breath. You got the hint and stuck out your tongue quickly getting work between her legs. Your tongue licked up her slit before it brought fast attention to her clit. You brought your fingers up and slipped two fingers inside of her. You were kinder than Wanda had been to you, moving your fingers less harshly and aggressively. It worked nonetheless as she quickly rose to an orgasm with the combination of both your fingers and tongue. Her grip on your hair did not loosen as her hips began to jerk against your face. As she reached her peak she let out a loud moan, her hips moving frantically as she tugged harshly at your hair. The taste that hit your tongue made you moan as you quickly lapped up as much as she would allow before pulling your head away. 

Her chest rose and fell heavily as she caught her breath, a gentler hand moving to your neck. You leaned up her body as you kissed her passionately. When her tongue slid across your bottom lip and your mouth you eagerly allowed it entrance. A smile grew across her face as she pulled away. You whined at the loss but it was quickly relieved when she pressed a singular finger to your lips. 

“Mommy.” You moaned out as your hips began to grind against her stomach. Her hand snaked down her stomach to touch you, her fingers ghosting over your clit. 

“Come sit on my face Detka.” She said firmly as she adjusted her positioning, letting your thighs rest next to her head. You were hesitant yet eager as you slowly lowered yourself down, moaning loudly as her tongue finally made contact. Your hips jerked against her face as you ground against her tongue. You were worked up quickly, faster than ever as she seemed to know exactly where you needed it. She mumbled out from underneath you as she worked you up towards an orgasm. “Beg for it, Malyshka.”

Quickly words began to tumble out of your mouth as desperation to cum was needed. “Please, Mommy. Please!” You practically yelled as your hips jerked more, her nails digging into your thighs. “Please let me cum.” You begged. She complied with a grin.

“Cum for Mommy, Detka.” She said as her tongue moved rapidly beneath you. Instantly you reached your peak, reaching for the bead frame in front of you to steady yourself as you moaned loudly. When Wanda felt you had settled enough she gently pulled you down next to her and into her arms. You shook a little in Wanda's arms as she held you for the first time in weeks. Her fingers tangled in your hair as she slowly combed through the mess she had made, taking time to massage your scalp. All the thoughts of your fights had completely melted away and you were consumed by her and her embrace. 

“Mommy.” You murmured as tears began to fall on your cheeks again, your face nuzzling closely in the crook of her neck.

“You did so good baby, so good.” She praised quietly as she kissed behind your ear. Her fingertips found a gentle pattern of scratching up and down your back with one hand while the other massaged where she pulled your hair. Praise was whispered into your ear as she held you closely, not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Slowly your sobs calmed and you settled into her embrace, slowly lifting your head to leave soft kisses across her jaw and neck. 

“I love you, Wanda.” The words left your mouth for the first time in weeks and a soft smile crept across your lips. Wandas' face glimmered with love as she pulled you into a kiss. 

“I love you too, Detka.” She whispered through kisses as she could only hold you closer. After a while of the silent embraces Wanda's thoughts of the fights crept back into memory. “We’re going to be okay.” She hesitated and looked towards you. “Right?” She spoke softly, her voice filled with fear at the thought of losing you. You nodded and kissed her softly, your mind foggy and cloudy as all you wanted was to be close to her. That night you slept close, tangled up in each other's love, neither wanting to pull away.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning when you woke up snuggled up in Wanda's arms felt different. The bliss that usually followed had dissipated and all you could think about was the pain of being with her. You gained a sinking pit in your stomach as guilt and fear coursed through your body. The flight response kicked in. You couldn't be with her, not now. Tears began to fall as you quickly but carefully left the bed and Wanda's embrace. Hurriedly you moved for some clothes as you threw on the closest things you could find without waking her. You reached for the door handle but paused. One glance back to Wanda confirmed it. You couldn't be here. So where did you go? Who greeted you with open arms? Natasha.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒 , various !

synopsis: when you bring your friend to ikea to help you pick furniture for your new apartment. Pinning ensues amongst other flustering events.

including: zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya, thoma,

side comments: pure fluff! also, please buy your furniture second-hand and support small businesses! avoid fast furniture when you can (ikea) and make mindful purchases. let's briefly imagine a perfect world where ikea is ethical and sustainable.

extra: mentions and implications of marriage, gn reader, favourites: zhongli & kaeya word count: 1,784

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

Being the friend he is, Zhongli would happily accompany you.

He is the type to have his hands behind his back as he follows you around. Lingering close yet respectfully enough.

If you ask him for consolation, he will be honest in the most tender way possible:

"Ah... perhaps this colour will be more suitable considering the lighting."

"You did need a new couch, right? I believe you will like this one."

You blink and then your cart is full.

Zhongli's advice is acutely precise, however, expect to exceed your original budget by another ghastly $500.

Not that he suggests buying unnecessary items, rather, he suggests quality, material and construction.

Begins speaking a tad excessively about colour coordination and lightning.

He will help you lift any furniture parts if need be!

Gradually, the trip would become a joint effort by the two of you. As if you've been shopping and living together for years.

"Look at the dining table ( Name )," Zhongli commented. The lighting of the room glittered above, illuminating your face slightly as your hands glide over the wood varnish. "It's wonderful, isn't it? You'd be able to hold all the dinner parties you wanted."

You smile gingerly, and soon you are standing next to him by the kitchen sink. "Definitely, Childe would no longer have to sit on the floor."

Zhongli chuckles and you share a teasing grin. "At least we picked out a table already- much cheaper."

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, "Oh? Perhaps we can consider this one instead?"

"Personally, I think you should agree with him," spoke an employee- a soft-spoken elderly woman- "I remember when I first bought my fiancee's dining table- fun times!"

"Oh ma'am we're not-"

"Yes, my fiancee and I do agree," Zhongli gazes towards you're slightly flushed figure and smiles gently, "Yes dear?"

You blink for a few moments; gaining your footing before replying smoothly, "Why of course, how could I not love?"

You don't notice it, however, Zhongli shares a faint blush as he later pretends to cough in his fist.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

Childe has zero taste in furniture.

His mom would choose the furniture while he used his card.

Browsing through the showrooms and picking furniture is not how he would choose to spend his afternoon, however, he'll try for you!

In this case- it's the thought that counts.

If you need help reaching or lifting anything he'll do it readily.

Don't have a cart or bag? (There were lots) Childe will hold it all for you!

It becomes an inner competition to some extent to cover up for his obvious lack of skill in furniture and home design in hopes of impressing you.

“Excuse me young man, can you please reach the duvet covers for me up top?” asks a elderly man, an embarrassed smile gently plastered on his lips.

Childe turns his head towards the man and flashes a hearty grin, “Of course.”

With ease, Childe grabs the duvet set and hands it to him, “Ah, thank you,” the man pauses before speaking, his eyes in thought, “might I ask something?”

Childe blinks and replies, subtle curiosity beneath his lighthearted tone, “Go on.”

“Have you asked your partner out yet?

Childe fumbles a bit and the elderly man heaves a near boisterous laugh. "I'm taking that as a no, ay? Ah, young couples! I might not have the sharpest eyes anymore, but you've been lookin' at them since the kitchen showroom!"

Before Childe could express a response, the man pats his back and smiles. "Best of luck! I'm sure they'll say yes."

The man then ambles away and from a distance, Childe can see his small figure fade into the throng.

"Hey Childe! Are you alright?"

"Oh... um yeah!" prompted Childe, "Is there anything else you need?"

You shake your head, your fingers scrolling through the list you made, "That should be it. Are you sure you're okay? If you'd like I could hold the vase?"

Childe smiles while his bright blue eyes pool into yours, "No I'm good, let's head to check out."

The two of you saunter to the check-out counter side by side; bantering with each other. Childe's gaze never leaving yours.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑

Diluc is not well-versed in design and colour. However, he has a keen eye for both style, price and functionality, unbeknownst to him.

You were hesitant to ask him if he could accompany you as it is without a doubt that Diluc Ragnvindr is a busy man.

Diluc himself shared hesitancy for opposing reasons.

Diluc has lived with himself and has found his dwelling to be dull in comparison to the liveliness and hospitality your former apartment held. Thus, Diluc wondered if he could be of any help.

Nevertheless, you reassured him that you wanted company regardless of his skills.

Contrary to his words, Diluc was quite valuable, especially when navigating the place.

"I found the blanket you were interested in earlier, do you still want it?"

"The colour is rather flattering... but it is your choice! Um... please don't mind me."

"Do you need help?"

Diluc doubted his opinion, however, you found yourself agreeing with him several times.

You and Diluc were currently sitting by the opposite edge of a bed, your hands inches apart.

"A comfortable bed isn't it?" you bounce on the bed a little, a smile reaching your lips, "And the mattress is only $200, a king too! I can't believe you found this deal-"

Diluc does not hear your voice, it faded just as the lights mellowed and the sensations of the blanket against his calloused hands grew fuzzy.

"... Hey Diluc?"

"Ah, yes," Diluc coughs before asking, "I'm sorry what were you saying?

You smile, "It's all good! I was just explaining how I wouldn't need such a large bed for myself."

Diluc conveys a slightly puzzled expression, "How so? If you're worried about how to carry it into the apartment then you do know that I'll assist you-"

You shake your head fervently before replying, "Well thank you Diluc! But really you don't have to-"

"Oh no, I insist."

You smile winsomely before carefully replying, "It's just... me in the apartment. I'd understand if I was living with someone- but it's not worth it in my opinion."

Diluc pauses, contemplating before replying steadily, "I believe you deserve the mattress..." There is a tentative gap between his words before he follows up, "Perhaps I... ah never mind, let's get going. You wanted to eat at Chef Xianling's restaurant for dinner right? My treat."

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇

So you invited Kaeya?

Expect relentless teasing and a carefree-complacent attitude.

However, as much as Kaeya is there for fun, he will readily assist you- not without a tease, however.

"Oh ho? Need my help?"

In regards to style and class... Kaeya can pull himself together.

However, similar to Diluc, there is a dullness to his home.

In fact, Kaeya rarely spends time in his own home: he bounces from place to place. Never lingering longer than is needed or comfortable. It is like an ever-present itch.

Yet, your home has become Kaeya's home too. Unbeknownst to you however.

It is natural for both of you.

Your home has become the longest place he has spent in. He has his space in your home, he even has a toothbrush holder and resident blanket; removing Kaeya from your home would cause an ineffable void.

Regardless of the previous facts, you genuinely invited Kaeya to come for help and company.

Kaeya makes the process entertaining! Instead of contemplating the price tags incessantly, Kaeya will smoothly subdue your worries by toying with the utensils and playing hide-and-seek in the mirror section all while slipping the item you wanted in the bag.

The two of you let loose; unwinding like children who innocently play in the kid's bedroom showhome despite being strangers to each other.

"Kaeya... do we really need this mirror?" you question dubiously.

Kaeya shares a winsome grin. "Why of course," he then gingerly places his hands on your shoulders and leans in slightly, "It holds a rather charming reflection, does it not?"

You gaze at him and sigh, "Charming? You always find ways to flatter yourself."

Kaeya merely smiles. The two of you peer into the mirror: the reflection of two souls gazing back all while Kaeya surmises.

It wasn't himself that he was referring to.

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀

You're in for a treat!

You will (quite literally) get ice cream afterwards.

Thoma possesses all the skills in the "art of making a home."

Need deals or a lower price? Thoma already has a list. What about colour and style? He has a magazine and Pinterest board ready. What about functionality and material? Don't fret! He knows all the washing labels and what goes best with your lifestyle.

Tell him the night before and he is packed and loaded.

Thoma is absolutely thrilled that you invited him.

Shopping for any household items is delightful for Thoma, even more so when the two of you are browsing through all the showrooms and inspecting each countertop.

His favourite section is the kitchen.

If you have a specific budget in mind, Thoma will ensure that not a dollar goes beyond it and he will keep you accountable as well!

However, staying within the budget while scouring the store takes a significant amount of time.

Hence, instead of another $100 added to the receipt, expect another three hours.

The two of you will heave a big sigh when you finally sit down in the car.

Nevertheless, it is all lighthearted and relaxing as the two of you reenacting imagining a space together.

"We'd set the tables over there-" remarked Thoma as he pointed his finger towards the dining table, "And we can house our pans here- it would be so since to have them hanging instead of in the cabinet."

"Browsing through the kitchens is always fun," added a mother, her arms cradling her baby, "Are the two of you living together?"

You chuckle and Thoma's cheeks grow rosy. You then reply amused, "Oh no, he's a friend of mine who I asked to come along."

The mother then shares an embarrassed smile, "Oh I'm so sorry! That was so wrong of me... if the two of you are looking for a hanging pan rack then I remember seeing an installation piece down in the marketplace."

"Thank you," replied Thoma, a smile pressed on his lips, "We'll be sure to check it out!"

As the mother saunters ambles away, Thoma mutters under his breath, "Maybe we should live together..."

"What was that?"

"Oh ah! Nothing," Thoma scratches the back of his neck before responding brightly, "Do you want me to write the rack on the list now?"

masterlist

[vintagelasvegas]

Golden Nugget Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas.

The original casino was built from the ground up, except for the “Fine Liquors” section (far right) the former Martin-Ferron building, 123 Fremont. Photo: 1946, by Burton Frasher Sr.

'45: Golden Nugget announced (RJ 8/3/45). The casino will replace the E. W. Griffith building, and occupy the Martin-Ferron building (123 Fremont).

'46: Golden Nugget opens the evening of 8/30/46. G.McAfee, T. Lucey & partners (RJ 8/27/46, 8/31/46).

'48: Rooftop sign constructed by YESCO in Sep. (RJ 9/24/48). Golden Nugget expands into the Eagles lodge (117 Fremont), later extending the “Lounge/Saloon” marquee, with the “Eagles Bldg” still visible in through '55.

'56: Facade and marquee remodel circa early ’56. Attraction boards mounted on the sides of the building by Fall ’56.

'60: McAffee dies, B. Blaine becomes president of the corp.

'61: Facade remodel with bullnose corner and neon exterior, by YESCO, in Apr.

'68: Expansion into former Lucky Casino (115 Fremont) in Fall.

'69: Expansion into former Nevada Club (111-113 Fremont) some time after Sep.

'71: Expansion info former California Club (101-105 Fremont). Bullnose sign on Fremont & 1st installed in Mar.

'73: Steve Wynn becomes president (RJ 8/2/73).

'77: 19-story, 576-room “Golden Nugget Rooming House” aka Gold tower started 6/76, and begins opening 5/77 (RJ 10/3/76, 5/22/77); parking garage addition, Casino Center & Carson.

'78: Golden Nugget vacates 101 Fremont after lease is ended (RJ 2/24/78). 101 Fremont becomes Friendly Club, a separate entity, until '83.

'80: Golden Nugget Inc. public stock sale.

'83: “Casino” on bullnose sign covered with electronic display. Golden Nugget expands back to 101 Fremont and demolishes the original Mesquite Grocer on the corner of Fremont & 1st; expansion on South 1st to Carson includes the former New Thomas Building (107-111 S. 1st St.).

'84: Spa tower (extension of Rooming House) 18 floors, with two showrooms, 23 duplex townhouses and four deluxe 2-bedroom apartments (RJ 5/25/84); Facade remodel in Oct-Nov (RJ 10/24/84, 11/27/84); Rooftop sign removed early Dec (RJ 12/30/84).

'86: South/Carson tower. 17-floor, 816 rooms, Carson between 1st & Casino Center (RJ 1/28/86).

'89: Second half of the South tower, 500 rooms. Total 1930 rooms. Golden Nugget Inc. becomes part of Mirage Resorts.

'00: Mirage Resorts sold to MGM Mirage.

'03: Golden Nugget sold to Poster Financial Group.

'05: Golden Nugget sold to Landry’s Inc.

'07: Expansion across South 1st St and opening of the Rush tower completed in ’09.

Photos of Golden Nugget, Las Vegas

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Since their dynamic is never explained in Cutie Pie or Naughty Babe and you have to wonder if Diao was kidnapped by Yi when he got off the plane:

As far as Diao remembers, he grew up in the UK, alone, with all expenses covered by the extravagantly wealthy Chen family. Everything he owns was bought with Chen money. Every class or extracurricular was done with the blessings of the Chen family. All with the understanding that he is the future son-in-law of the family.

Diao comes back to Thailand for University along with Kuea. He gets off the plane in a country he hasn't seen since he was 6 years old and is immediately taken to a formal engagement ceremony and that is the first time he ever even sees Hia Yi.

Diao tries to be good, tries to be polite, but Phayak won't speak to him unless absolutely necessary. That night, he is taken not to the mansion, not to a nice apartment, but to the Chen's car showroom. There is an apartment above it with windows that look down into the sales floor, his luggage is placed there, and Yi basically says "Okay bye".

For seven years.

So at this point, Diao and Yi are actually engaged already.

[hey-its-roseaurum]

Guilty Until Proven Innocent: Part II

A/N: Hello again everyone, it's been a minute. I couldn't post this part until @lainiespicewrites finished her part. This part was fun and extremely difficult to write, so if it ends up being a dumpster fire, then I'm sorry. Hopefully not. Anyway hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts.

Synopsis: After the agreement to work with Sherlock, Olivia was given an address to meet and discuss the plan. Once she arrives, she discovers something about Sherlock that not a lot of people get to see.

“221 Baker’s Street.  You didn’t mention that it would be on the second floor Sherlock”  I huffed to myself as I made my way up the stairs.  The night before Sherlock had briefly explained that I had to meet him at a specific location tomorrow.  He said he would give me all the information I needed.  When asked why he couldn’t mention it here, he mentioned he wanted to be safe before revealing crucial details about a case. 

So here I am, trudging up the stairs.  

And I hate every second of it.

But I push through my heavy breathing until I make it to the final step.  It wasn’t until I could breathe evenly that I knocked on the door.

A heavy pause lingered in the air before the door creaked open.

“You’re late.”  A gruff voice sliced the air.  Sherlock stood right in front of me, one hand on the door, the other holding a pipe.  

“Sorry.  I had a hard time finding this place.”  He stepped aside, leaving a glimpse of inside his flat.  A silent invitation.  “You never mentioned that this place was on the second floor.  Those stairs were brutal.”

“One should always have steps, to avoid people stepping on you.”  Sherlock merely stated, his eyes tracking my movements as I passed the threshold into his place.

“Umm…I’m not sure I entirely follow.  But I’m pretty sure-”  I stopped suddenly as my brain caught up with what was happening around me.  The hairs on my neck stood up as I felt my breath catch in my throat.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Everything, even parts of the floor was consumed by documents of varying sizes.  Some were folded, some were ripped.  There were even some with tea stains.  Not one seat, save for one in the middle of the flat, wasn’t covered by some degree.

How can someone live, let alone work, in a place like this?

One of my main pet peeves is cleanliness.  It’s been instilled in me ever since I was able to move.  My mother always said that a clean house is a clear mind.  I tried my best to make my home as clean and decluttered as I could; even when I was at the small cottage.

But to see someone as put together on the outside live in such a state, especially someone like Sherlock Holmes,   says something about their mind…

I bit my bottom lip and drew my attention away from the mess and towards the smoke trailing behind Sherlock.  It took everything in my power to distract myself

“So…what is it that you need me to do exactly?”

Sherlock had traveled to the other side of the flat, completely avoiding the papers.  He puffed on his pipe, his face strained in thought. 

“There is a performance at The Reform tonight.  It appears to be a central location that the suspect likes to visit.  His latest victim had been a showgirl.  I need you to go in and see if you can retrieve any belongings of the two victims.”  My eyebrows creased together in question.

“Pardon?  Two questions.  You mentioned ‘latest victim’.  There’s more than one victim.  Why has it not been mentioned in the newspapers?  Two, if I go in, how do we know that their belongings are still there?  They could be gone by now.”  

“Due to the budget of the showroom and the amount of performers it takes to run a show, the items won’t be touched.  The show requires six performers to perform without any hindrance.  So far the show has five currently.  It will not run unless they have the right number of people to perform all of the acts.  The police haven’t connected the string of murders to one suspect yet.  They believe that there is no connection and no motive between the two.”  So there has been another murder, but it hasn’t been revealed to the public.  Why?  

It doesn’t make sense.  There was only one mention of a death that had claimed to be murder, at least from what I can recall.  The only other thing that has been repeatedly mentioned is about a new entertainment business coming to London.  It had been on the front page three consecutive times.  But the murders and the entertainment show can’t be connected, can they? 

“Olivia, have I lost you?”  Sherlock’s voice grew in my ears like thunder in a growing storm, shocking me out of my thoughts.

“NO!….no.”  I jerked my gaze to meet his.  My eyes trailed back to the ground and focused on each paper.  It took most of my attention to avoid stepping on any of the documents on the ground.  “Please continue.”  Sherlock stared at me momentarily, taking a puff of his pipe before continuing.

“I’ll need you to pose as one of the new dancers hired for the show.  You will be given access to their belongings.  Look for any personal belongings related to the victim, acquire them, and exit before the show begins.  Do you have any questions?”

“One question actually, um…if there are five performers and I’m posing as the sixth one, what is stopping the showrunner from putting me in the actual performance?”  I felt a slight quiver in my voice when the question left my lips.  My nerves felt like they were beginning to light on fire, and my breathing quickened with each passing thought of having to go on a stage.  

“Because there is a sixth performer.  You are to get in and leave before they arrive. Try not to run into them before you get what you need.”

“Oh…ok, great.”  I swallowed hard, feeling my anxiety growing.  How am I supposed to know what I’m supposed to grab?  I don’t know anything about the victim.  What if I take the wrong item?  What if I can’t even make it inside?  Even if I make it inside, there’s no guarantee that I won’t get caught.  If I did then everything would be for naught.  I’d end up in jail with no money to get bailed out.  I would let the victims’ families down, and let the murderer have another chance to strike.  Worst of all, I’d have the greatest detective in the world disappointed in me and regret ever allowing me to work with him.  

Keep it together Olivia.

“You look troubled.  What is it?”  His words sounded far away with the ringing in my ears.  I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure.

“It’s nothing.  It’s not pertaining to the case.”  My voice felt out of place like it wasn’t me talking.  I felt like I wasn’t in my own body. I didn’t want Sherlock to know my doubts about this task.  We weren’t as close as I would like to be.  And the last thing I want is to show Sherlock how much of a mess I am inside.  He’d label me as just another person possessed by their own emotions.

I mean I sort of am but I didn’t want to divulge that with him.  It would just add to the list of things he’d be disappointed in.

Stop it

“I don’t want this to affect you when you are out there.  So please get it off your chest.”  There was a slight tilt to his head, his gaze analyzing me.  I could feel him already concluding that I was not cut out for something like this.

“It’s just…”  I trailed off.  How could I tell him that what I was about to do was crazy?  Everything I said when I was back at Edith’s place was completely spur of the moment.  At the time I genuinely thought that I would be able to pull something like this off.  Having it mere hours away from happening felt like I had been dowsed in ice water.

“Olivia.”  Just one word, my name, stilled my thoughts and pulled my attention to Sherlock.  His face had less of an edge to it like his demeanor had shifted and began to morph into something else.  I don’t know what it was but he almost appeared gentle and patient.  It was a complete contrast to what I saw several moments ago.  This was not the same Sherlock that had asked for help a fortnight ago.

This made it almost harder to speak.

“Okay, okay It’s just….” I bit my bottom lip, “why is your place so messy?”  I blurted out, completely changing the topic.  Maybe if I talk about something else I won’t have to show my doubts.

“It’s not messy.  Everything is where it needs to be.”  Sherlock appeared slightly taken aback by my sudden question.

“Right…that’s not what I’m seeing here.  It looks like you’ve just thrown around-”

“You’re changing the topic, Olivia.”  Shit…he knew what I was doing.  I guess I don’t have a choice…

“Okay fine.  I’m just worried about tonight, that’s all.”  A long sigh escaped my lips, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t look like showgirl material.  I mean LOOK at me.”  I stretched out my arms showcasing all the bumps, dips, and curves of my body.  “There’s no way I would pass as one, let alone be able to get through the door.  People like me are the ones who listen to the music and the cheering outside the building.  I don’t want to let the victim's family down, or especially you.”  A heavy presence filled the air, choking the silence.  Sherlock just stared at me.  I don’t know if it was out of shock or if he was reconsidering his decision to bring me into this.  

I don’t care anymore.  I let my insecurity out and hung it up to dry for him to see.  

All he has to do is say the words and I’ll be on my way back to my little damp cottage.

“You know Olivia…”  Sherlock cleared his throat, saying, “It’s normal to feel anxious about an uncertain situation.”  He paused, taking a moment to place his pipe on a nearby table.  “I’m going to give you a piece of advice.  Out there, feelings and being emotional poses a risk.  It is understandable for you, given the danger you may face.  However if you feel like this is too difficult for you, then I won’t force you to do this.  I can find other routes to get what I acquire.  All you have to do is say the word.”

He’s giving me a choice. 

He knows that the situation can be dangerous.  He knows that I’m feeling overwhelmed, but isn’t forcing me to commit.  There’s still a chance to back out, and yet he’s still giving me the option, however much that hurts him.  And if I don’t do this, it’s another chance to be another victim.

I can’t let myself back out.  

“No,”  I paused, collecting myself.    “No, I can do this.  I won’t let my emotions get in the way.”  A pleased look crossed his face, a small smirk threatening to reveal itself.

“Good.  I’ll see you tonight.”

A/N: Thank you to the following people who wanted to see this part happen. Stay tuned for part 3!!

Tag List:

@lainiespicewrites

@shellyshellshell

@xblueriddlex

@rosecentury

[mysimsloveaffair]

At the crack of dawn on a blizzardy New Year’s Eve, Dwight Echols arrives at his shop in Copperdale, just as he’s done numerous times over the last few months since purchasing it. Dwight started his shop, D’s Flowers & Jewelry, with only 589 simoleons left in his pocket after buying the building and covering the shop’s build-out. 

Since then, Dwight has been relying on the proceeds from his early, less skillful creations to cover the costs of building up inventory for his shop. As a level 8 gemologist, he now can craft more valuable pieces, translating to increased revenue for reinvestment in his business. After much effort, he has finally created enough inventory to open his shop, although it’s still approximately a week away from becoming a reality.

During this period, Dwight perseveres by making sacrifices and trimming expenses wherever possible. His meals consist of inexpensive cold cuts and sandwiches, and every waking moment is devoted to his entrepreneurial dream. The lack of a social life drives him to seek companionship online, engaging in conversations through internet forums. And when it comes to rest, he forgoes the travel time back to his apartment, opting instead to sleep on the showroom floor, in a sleeping bag. 

[iknowsescapingjourneys]

(A/N: I have literally never written a fan fiction in my life so this is going to be an adventure. I have an eighteen chapter series planned for this if things go well. I am a white girl that grew up in the middle of nowhere, USA, so if I get any British slang wrong or accidentally mess up something when it comes to his culture, please correct me! I am completely open to concrit.

Other than that, there’s not many triggers in this chapter. Kinda new to Tumblr, I was an embarrassing teenager the last time, pls don’t look at my posts, so I don’t know what needs to be tagged. There’s some fighting, but nothing graphic or gory. Mentions of theft. That’s about it. I am going off of the interview with the directors that say that he is an adult, and there will be smut in later chapters.

Please let me know what you think! I will also do requests for one-shots if anyone has anything in particular they’d like to see.)

Reckless Driving

Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Chapter 1

The crunch of glass beneath the PVC of Doc Martins seems to become an increasingly familiar sound. The stretch and curl of fingers in her gloves causes the sound of metal claws scraping together to echo through the showroom of the commercial jewelry store, barely audible as an alarm blares heavily above her head. The night vision equipped in her helmet makes it easy to see the glass case she’s peering down at, and with a slam of a gloved, clawed fist, the barrier shatters into a hundred sharp, sparkling pieces that fall to the floor and the display below. Claws curl easily around necklaces and rings, dropping them into the cargo pockets of her pants.

She knows how long it takes the police to show up, and she knows that she has three minutes left, if she’s lucky. She’s been here longer than she usually prefers to be, having had a difficult time busting the first display open. The police scanner in her ear chatters away, reports of her misconduct and theft a hot topic. She scoots to her left, repeating her earlier process, and zipping up the pocket when it feels heavy against her thigh.

She turns on her heel to dash to the employee exit in the back, but finds herself colliding with something, a mix of blue and red and black. She stumbles back, eyes widening beneath her masked helmet. Her first instinct is Spiderman, who she is more than well acquainted with, and not in any way that could be deemed positive. Her fist flies through the air without thought, stopped short when it’s grabbed mid trajectory and used to push her back into the broken display case. Her back arches to avoid sharp shrapnel, and she kicks a leg up, outsole colliding with a denim clad knee.

Denim? She pauses her onslaught long enough to get a good look at who exactly has wandered into her crime scene. An eyebrow raises beneath the LEDs of her helmet as she takes him in. This, this was not Spiderman. What looked to be heavy liner circled the mask’s eyes, dripping down below the eye holes. The suit was covered in spikes, both built into it and adorned with bracelets, and belts, and even protruding from the leather jacket that hung loosely on his frame. A guitar was strapped across his back, strings messily sprouting from string trees.

She was pulled from her analysis when a heavy boot made contact with her chest, sending her flying back into the cash register of the jewelry store. She could hear sirens approaching over the sound of the alarm screaming, and she knew flashing lights were only moments away. Her eyes flickered back up to the man encroaching on her space like a predator stalking its prey.

“Man, look at the time,” She spouts, notes of sarcasm and nervousness sprinkled throughout her otherwise surprisingly even tone. “Guess I should probably head out.” She continues, throwing her upper body to the side to avoid another well aimed kick. This time she notices the yellow and blue of ladder laced cords.

“Blue laces, huh? Seems like an odd color for someone working with the cops.” She taunts, managing to pull herself over the counter of the cash register, shoving open the door to the back room with her own boot as she backs herself up.

The man seems to pause for a moment, running his eyes over her figure with a look of confused conflict. “Y’know lace code?” He asks, and she can’t help the laugh that bubbles from her throat.

His accent is thick, and it’s immediately apparent to her that he is not from around here, though New York was known to have a melting pot of people. His voice is deep, but not intimidatingly so, and she finds she actually quite likes it, even from the small sampling she’s heard so far. Her eyes glance down to her own laces, strung up in a similar fashion. One side yellow, the other side purple.

“I might,” She finally answers with a grin, knowing that the duration between the question and her answer was probably long enough that he knows she was taken aback by his accent.

She turns the lock to the back exit with clawed fingers, being as delicate and quiet as possible as she continues to attempt to distract him long enough to get herself out the door.

The heel of her palm presses against the metal lever of the doorknob, her eyes locking on a shelving unit just a leg’s distance away.

“I like the pin,” She mentions, gesturing with her head towards the large A of the anarchy symbol adorned on his jacket. When he glances down in an effort to see which one her eyes have locked on, she kicks her leg out, sending the shelf crashing between them, creating a makeshift barrier.

She knows if he’s anything like the Spiderman she’s used to, he’ll make quick work of throwing it to the side, but it’s a divider long enough for her to slam her hand down and barrel out of the metal door keeping her from her motorcycle.

The pads of her non-gloved fingers press down hard on a button strapped to her thigh and the bike roars to life in a brilliant light show, greens and purples illuminating the dark alley. She throws a leg over the seat, straddling across the leather as her foot slams into the gas, lurching forward as the metal door flies open again to reveal the lanky frame of the man she’d fought with moments prior.

By that point though, she was practically a bat out of hell, motorcycle weaving through alleys so fast that she wasn’t much more than a blur. To be fair, she’s well aware that he could probably catch up to her if he wanted to, using the webs to leap from building to building. Track her down, wrap her up, deliver her to the police.

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise her when he doesn’t.

______________________________

He couldn’t be arsed to chase after you, if he was being honest. First of all, this was a chain, and the markups on the shit they sold was enough to make his anarchist blood boil. Combined with the fact that the cops were out to get her, (and he would rather die than be seen working in collaboration with pigs), it seemed less than important to go swinging through a city he wasn’t entirely familiar with to repossess some cliché engagement rings and some overly gaudy necklaces.

So he knew it wasn’t guilt about letting her get away that rattled around in his head a day later. That conclusion lead him to where he was now: staring down at his boots as they moved him through the night, barely cognizant of what was going on around him as he shifted through thoughts that seemed to pop up faster than he could shoo them away, akin to pop-ups on a shady website.

His tongue ran back and forth over the metal of his lip ring, feeling the shift of piercing to flesh with each passing movement. A stem he often found himself utilizing when he was overwhelmed with his own mind.

He’s only pulled from his thoughts when a familiar sound erupts through the silent air from across the park he’s meandering through. His head snaps in the direction of the noise, pierced brows furrowing slightly. The rumble of a bass guitar, clearly played by someone with experienced fingers, because the tune sounded incredible.

Through the light foliage, definitely planted by a city council in order to make the area look more ‘organic’, he was just capable of making out a feminine frame propped on the black plastic playground border. He couldn’t say he recognized the song, but it definitely had an edge to it. A bite. He liked it.

She didn’t seem to notice him as he made his way over, eyes locked on the way her fingers caressed four thick strings, and the way they reverberated as she pulled away from each one, the timbre of each note filling the air.

“A little late to be putting on a show, innit?”

He can’t choke back the laugh that climbs from his chest when her head swings up to make eye contact with him, her fingers stuttering on strings that release a roar upon her mis-strum. He makes note of the way her eyes widen, akin to a deer stuck in the headlights of a car. Clearly she wasn’t used to people stumbling upon her little solo jams.

“Not much of a show.”

The woman in front of him mumbles, her eyes downcast once again in embarrassment, though he was just capable of making out the dusting of blush that adorned the apples of her cheeks. He settled himself on the plastic divider next to her, brushing off a piece of mulch that threatened to fall to the grass outside of its designated area.

“Not sure about that, princess. Can’t say I wasn’t enjoying it.”

He watches her blink a few times, face twisting in confusion a little as she glances up at him. He takes the chance to let his eyes wander the details of her complexion: the little laugh lines on the corners of her lips and nose, the way her eyes shimmer in the dim light of the lamp post, the gloss applied to her lips.

“Princess?”

She asks, and he realizes that she thinks he’s some prat trying to harass her in the middle of the night. He gives an apologetic smile, his lip ring reflecting the lighting and enunciating the gesture.

“Seems like I’m about to make a total cock-up of this whole situation.”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead, warm flesh brushing cold metal bumps of thick metal captive beads.

“Promise I’m not tryna chat you up. It’s just a ‘abit.”

He watches her frame deflate from the bristled posture it held moments prior, and he relaxes slightly as well, leaning back as palms dig into rough wood shavings. His eyes wander her before he gets to her shirt and the back of his large, ringed hand hits her shoulder.

“You like R&B?”

He asks, fingers gripping on the hem of the black material and pulling it slightly to flatten the material so he can get a better look at it. Her lips twitch in discomfort for a moment, an action he doesn’t miss, and he pulls his hands away, not embarrassed but feeling a little bad for what definitely seemed like harassing this girl now.

“Erykah Badu is the background track to just about every trip I’ve been on.”

She says softly after an extended silence, and the little grin that climbs the corner of her lips is not lost on him. Maybe she wasn’t completely under the impression he’d lost the plot. He pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at the time.

Then he glances at it again, eyes widening. How had he managed to fuck around until two in the morning? If people weren’t pissed because they were looking for him, they’d be pissed the next morning when he couldn’t drag his arse out of bed.

He was honestly a little disheartened by the fact that he’d managed to absolutely flounder the entire conversation, just to pick himself up right as he had to leave.

“Really should get going. I’m absolutely gutted I couldn’t ‘ear you play more of that bass.”

He says with a grin, long legs pulling to a stand as he tried to remember what direction he’d come from and how to get back. His spidey-senses tingle right before his hand wraps around his wrist, and he yanks it away at the last second out of instinct. She seems dissuaded by the rejection, and he does his best to soothe the burn with a grin.

“Sorry, doll. Just not used to being touched.”

He apologizes, raising horizontally pierced brows as an invitation for her to speak her mind. It’s the least he could do for harassing her and then fucking off right as they started to actually have a conversation.

“Do you think I could have your number?”

He’s no stranger to being hit on. He’s no stranger to being the one to hit on others, either. And he can’t deny that she’s a very beautiful woman. Still, he knows better. This isn’t his universe, and he’s not here to make friends, and especially not here to shag around whatever version of New York this was.

“I’m flattered, really. Can’t say I think that’s the brightest idea though. I could be mad, y’know?”

The woman’s shoulders drop slightly at being pied off, and he reaches out to set a hand on the pewter gray of the shoulder of her shirt.

“Don’t take it personal though, princess. I’ve just got a lot on my shoulders at the moment.”

He reassures, letting his hand drop back down to his side and turning on his heel before he stared at her too long and changed his mind. The last thing he needed to do was find himself attached to a civilian, especially one that he’d have to dimension hop for. The cons far outweighed the pros.

Hobie Brown was a rebel, but he wasn’t daft.

[msbigredmachine]

TARGETS - 33 - Armageddon

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted.  (AU Espionage Story)

TARGETS MASTERLIST

Thick, putrid black smoke clouded over the entire vicinity in record time thanks to the fast-burning whiskey, providing precious cover for Jasmine and Roman. Several of the agents zoomed in frantically for any sight of the two rogue agents, but it was difficult to see through the smoke and Lily's burning body. On closer inspection, they spotted Jasmine and Roman's jackets laying on the floor. Throwing caution to the wind, the fully armed team began to open fire.

Having ducked behind a Five Guys counter, Roman aimed at a man shooting at him and blew him backwards off his feet. Jasmine found her first target, Lotus, and swiftly put a bullet between her former colleague's eyes. As they ducked out of the restaurant, she managed to rid the dead woman of her grenade belt. From there, Jasmine and Roman smashed through the Dulux store, toppling over a large pyramid stack of paint cans and hiding behind a massive shelving unit to reload ammunition. Jasmine spotted the duffel bag full of money that Lily had given her. With a regrettable sigh, she tucked Lotus's grenade into the bag just as assassins swarmed the area. The grenade went off with a flash and a loud BANG, taking out the four nearest guys and spraying hundred dollar bills in the air like confetti.

Roman and Jasmine were now inside the shelving unit, crouch-running behind the paint cans as the shots rained in, spattering both of them with multiple colors of paint. Rolling out into the aisle across from them, Roman skidded across the floor on his back, firing continuously. Two Authority agents with rifles dropped to the ground, dead. Jasmine seized both of the rifles, tossing one to Roman before turning around and covering his back, shooting at multiple targets pouring into her own end of the aisle. Luckily, the aisles worked in their favor as they only had two directions to cover. With their backs to each other, the couple blasted their way through an oak wardrobe into another shelving unit where they fluidly reloaded their weapons, spinning into the next aisle simultaneously. The swap of directions was just as graceful as the couple covered opposite angles, their fingers on the trigger the whole time.

Assassins filed into each end of the aisle and realized too late that they had no cover of their own. Jasmine and Roman worked through them methodically, their weapons spewing hot lead and brass casings. They stayed observant, reacting to the smallest movements. Quickly realizing that they were at a disadvantage, the agents hung back, taking more caution. Jasmine and Roman seized on that little slip and refused to slow down their rhythm for a second – covering each other, reloading under shelves, crossing into aisle after aisle, covering each other again and again; working perfectly together.

They burst out of the shelving units and into a showroom. They glided through mock-ups of living rooms, kitchens, stalking through studies and immaculate bedrooms like a maze. Rounding corner after corner, they intercepted Agents that fired at them from their vantage points. Still, they came pouring in. It almost seemed as though all of the Authority and F.L.O.R.A. had gathered at this shopping mall. Jasmine and Roman's progress was slowed by the antique furniture, each one blown to pieces by bullets, the fragments cutting into their skin. The shoot-out was relentless, and it wasn't long before they were running out of ammunition. Two Agents advanced towards the blonde woman from the left. Roman went low, grabbing a cable wire from the ground and whipped it out, sweeping the Agents off their feet. As they fell, he snatched their AR-15s in midair and tossed the reinforcements to Jasmine. 

He suddenly grunted with pain when a bullet tore through his right leg. He stumbled to the ground, and Jasmine went down with him. 

"Roman!"

"Fuck!" he shouted, clutching his leg. Jasmine grabbed his arm and pulled him with her. "Come on." Together, they hit the deck and started military-crawling through numerous beds in rows. Jasmine popped up from behind one bed and took out a shooter emerging from a nearby wardrobe. As another came in full speed towards their direction, Roman popped up and blew his head away. Jasmine looked behind her to find no less than five agents coming into the section after them on both sides. They couldn't take these guys out without splitting up. She looked at Roman. "Can you manage?"

He nodded, his thoughts in sync with hers. With a quick count to three, the two separated, stalking through the beds, popping up and taking agents out, and despite his injury, Roman proved too quick for the agents. More shooters spilled in. Jasmine knew they couldn't hold out for much longer. She shot and weaved her way back to her boyfriend’s location. "We've got to get into the warehouse!" she said, "It's through that door over here."

"Go ahead of me," Roman said, limping towards her. "I'm only going to slow you down."

Jasmine eyed him like he was crazy. "I'm not leaving you," she hissed. She wound his huge arm around her shoulder, locked her own arm around his waist and guided him towards the door. With his free hand, Roman shot at the agents coming to his left. Just as they neared the door to the warehouse, there was a rapid beeping sound from behind them. Roman glanced down at the C4 blinking on the ground, and his eyes widened. "Jasmine! Look out-"

The explosion knocked them both off their feet.

---------------------------

Leona jumped backwards out of Hunter's reach just as he slashed at her with the knife, nearly missing her stomach. She slid away from him, grabbed another knife and aimed for his face, once, twice. He blocked her arm the third time, and with lightning speed, he dodged the other arm she swung at him. Grabbing her by the hair, he drove her face right into the refrigerator, denting the surface. Yanking her back just as viciously, he smashed the heel of his palm into her face and swung her bodily into the kitchen drawers. Knocking back-first into an open one, Leona collapsed like a rag doll, her flailing arm dragging the drawer and all its contents to the ground with her.

Straightening himself up, Hunter wiped the blood in his mouth with the back of his hand. His necktie was gone, his shirt was torn and stained with his blood and hers. He stood over Leona's prone body, his eyes wild and a maniacal grin on his face. Leona remained still on the ground, but her mind was moving, thinking. Out of Hunter's sight, a rolling pin had fallen to the ground. With her arm outstretched, her fingertips closed around it. Above her, Hunter raised his leg, about to deliver the death blow with a slam of his boot onto her face.

With one last burst of adrenaline, Leona swung the rolling pin. The utensil connected viciously with Hunter's other shin, the bone shattering with a loud, ugly CRACK. Hunter screamed in sheer agony and fell to the floor. But Leona let no move go to waste. Pushing herself to her knees, she seized the knife she'd dropped on the floor, straddled Hunter and drove it through the middle of his throat and back out in one brutal thrust, his blood splattering all over her face.

Hunter's eyes popped wide with anger and surprise, eyeing her as though unable to believe she had the balls to finish him off. His mouth moved, attempting to speak, but only a gurgling sound emanated, along with a gush of blood from his lips, the thick red blotches splashing against his paling skin. Leona watched the light in his eyes dim, allowed herself the pleasure of watching the body of the great Hunter Helmsley jerk and tremble before it finally stilled.

Breathing hard, Leona let the knife clatter to the floor and pushed herself away from the body. Suddenly, she let out a loud cry, and collapsed back to the floor and landed awkwardly on her butt, grimacing from two different sources of pain. The adrenaline was quickly wearing off, and the agony that was spreading through her was indescribable. One look down at herself detected the cause of her agony.

Sometime during the fight, she had been stabbed. Blood poured freely from the right side of her abdomen, soaking her shirt and seeping through her hand as she attempted to stem the blood flow. When Hunter drove the knife into her, she had ignored it, kept fighting, her thirst for vengeance overshadowing every other emotion and rational thought she owned. Taking in a ragged breath of dread, she slowly lifted up her t-shirt and winced at what she saw. The wound was deep, much too deep, and Leona knew that her chances of survival were very slim indeed.

With what little strength she had left, she crawled towards the gas stove. Pulling it from its place against the wall, she yanked out the gas hose that was connected to the back of the appliance and immediately, gas came gushing out in a loud hissing sound, filling the entire kitchen with the putrid smell of carbon monoxide. Her body grew weaker with each movement she made, her breaths shorter and more ragged. She wasn't going to last long. Leona propped her back up against the wall, looking over at Hunter's prone, lifeless body. She lit a match and stared at the little stick with warped fascination. She didn't want her body to be found. If she was going to disappear for good, this was the only way it was going to happen.

A serene, content smile spread across her wounded face. She was dying, but everything felt better than it was supposed to be. She had avenged Dwayne, just like she had promised all that time ago. It was all she ever wanted for three years and now she'd done it. Now he would rest easy, and so would she.

I'll see you soon, my love.

And with that, the former Director of The Authority extended her arm, holding the match to the gas pipe. The explosion that followed consumed the entire house in a gargantuan ball of fire.

---------------------

Roman collapsed behind the massive wooden crate, taking in big gulps of air. "Shit..." he gasped. His leg throbbed painfully and he was exhausted. His hair was matted to his face by sweat and blood. Leaning back, he turned his head to see Jasmine sitting next to him, looking as bruised and beat up as he was. "You good?" he asked.

Her reponse was a breathless nod. "Yeah," she breathed, glancing down at his leg. "Jesus."

"Yep. First my shoulder, now my damn leg. I guess I make a great target practice," he quipped, a small, pained chuckle escaping his lips.

With a grunt, Jasmine lifted her shirt, spotting the bullet lodged in her bulletproof vest, where her heart was meant to be. She could sense the dilemma they were in as well. They had barely avoided catastrophe with the explosion. Barely. They could hear pounding through the door of the warehouse as the surviving assassins tried to break it down. They had done all they could, but as expected, the numbers were starting to weigh much too heavily on them.

Looking up, she met Roman's eyes, her heart sinking because she knew what he was about to say. "No," she immediately said, shaking her head. "No! Don't say it!"

"Jasmine, you have to get outta here.” Roman knew that she could still escape, that she could still save herself. She had to. "I’m only gonna slow you down. You can make it outta here and head to Jamaica-"

"I told your punk ass, don’t gimme that bullshit!" she cut him off sternly, "I said what I said; I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you." Her gaze bored into his own. "It’s you and me, okay? Ain’t nowhere I'd rather be than right here, with you, Roman. As long as I'm by your side, I don't give a damn if I don't make it.”

“Baby, please,” he pleaded, “I promised Rose you would make it out of this alive.”

“And guess what? I will make it out alive. And so will you,” she continued, her lip trembling even when she didn't want it to. “We’ve come this far, and we owe it to each other to make it. I owe Leona. I still have the debit card right here. We’ll head out to Jamaica. We’ll find a cute little house by the beach, we’ll go fishing and yachting, I’ll learn how to make good ackee and codfish, and damn it, you’re gonna fuck me senseless and make sweet love to me every single day, on every single surface imaginable when we’re there. Do you understand me, Reigns?”

Her jaw was locked and her expression was full of resolve, and he realized she meant every word. Even in the chaos and on the brink of doom, he had never been more in love with her than in that moment.

“God, you so fuckin’ sexy, babe,” he smirked, “Come here.”

Pulling her to him, he seized her mouth in an intense, desperate kiss. Jasmine reciprocated with equal intensity, both very much aware that despite her rallying cry, this would probably be the last time they would ever get to share such an intimate moment. Right now, the destruction around them didn't matter. Right now, all they saw, all that mattered, was each other.

"I love you, Roman Reigns," Jasmine whispered, kissing him one more time. "I love you until my last breath. I will love you even more after that." 

"I love you too, Jasmine. I’ll still love you long after I’m gone," he answered, reluctantly pulling away to cock his AK-47. "So, how we gonna do this shit?"

Jasmine did the same with her own AR-15. "Aim and fire." Being outnumbered didn't change anything. They had vowed to take as many people as possible down with them, and they would, if it was the last thing they ever did.

"You ready?" he asked her. The door to the warehouse was caving in. They could hear the metal bending, succumbing to the pressure.

Taking one final deep breath, she nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready."

"On my signal." There was the most intense expression on his face. "See you in the next life, Jasmine."

Jasmine returned the look. "Likewise, Roman."

The door to the warehouse burst open. A few tense, timed seconds passed before the Samoan gave his lover and partner a quick but firm nod. Together, they leapt out from each side of the wooden crate, trained their weapons on their adversaries, and opened fire.

---------------

One final chapter left. This story has taken so long to finish, lol.

Thoughts?

Credit to the owners of the gifs.

[wondernus]

˗ˋˏ When We Meet Chapter 3 ˎˊ˗

synopsis: there is only so much forgiving and forgetting you can do when you end up getting stood up by your date over and over again. so when you're stuck between the best friend, the first crush, and their mysterious roommate whose existence seemed like a myth, you can only hope the decision you've been making is the right one.

pairing: kmg x reader

chapter tags: food mention, present-day, mingyu's first appearance

wc: 2k

message from nu: :-) mingoo finally here but also not really. - nu

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A crash sounds from the floor above you, and a muffled voice yelling he’s okay quickly follows. The crash isn’t big enough to cause a reverberation large enough to wobble one of the paintings hanging above the television in front of you, so you ignore it and continue vacuuming the thin red textile rug under your feet.

The living room space is tiny, but it feels like the interior came straight out of an Ikea showroom — and to be fair, most of the interior did thanks to Minghao’s job at a commercial bank. There is the grey sleeper sofa with the outstretched chaise that ends so close to the white lacquer television storage cabinet that you could reach over for the remote instead of standing up. Framed photos and paintings form a gallery wall above the television, the photos picturing memories made since university. There is a photo of DK, Minghao, and you grinning together at graduation, each clutching empty diploma books in your hands. Cast off to the side is a paid photo from an amusement park rollercoaster ride with the fourth person’s face — an ex —covered and replaced with a picture of a famous actor that the three of you all agree to be charming. A blue fortune teller and two origami frogs sit on the windowsill next to the row of fake plants in their pots and vases.

Maneuvering the vacuum back to its corner, you’re careful not to knock over the two rolled yoga mats leaning against the wall when you pull its plug. While looping and retracting the long vacuum cord, your eyes wander to the hanging calendar to the side of the staircase. It’s a calendar of some random family that made it to the shelves of a nearby thrift store that the guys thought was funny enough to buy and hang in their home as if they were a part of the photographed family. Important dates are marked with red permanent marker: utility bill due, rent due, Wi-Fi bill due, company dinner… Then there’s a date circled many times over and then crossed out and drawn on the correct date. Mingyu is coming back.

It’s been about two years since graduation. You’ve managed to not fall out of contact with your college friends — even regularly grabbing brunch at fancy hotels with those who stayed in the area. Work is near your childhood home. The only thing that seemed to change is DK — or at least his name.

DK, or rather Seokmin now as stated on his business cards, thumps down the stairs with a giant cardboard box in his arms. He sets it on the sofa and collapses on open the spot next to it, sighing loudly with his arms stretched out like he’s making a snow angel.

If it hadn’t hit you then, then it surely hits you now: Mingyu is coming back. All this preparatory work for someone whom you don’t know, for someone whose humidifier sits in the corner of the hallway closet collecting dust, for someone who clearly makes your friends happy…you can’t help but feel excited for your friends. And you can’t help but feel excited yourself.

Kim Mingyu’s stuff sits in their tiny townhouse like the objects on display in a museum after only being used for about a month or two. The owner, who couldn’t give up an opportunity for working abroad after graduation, is finally able to transfer back. For good this time. You’re sure you’ve memorized every single photo in that household, especially those of Mingyu and the stories behind them. How he towers over his two roommates, holding up bunny ears behind his friends’ heads. How his shiny silver braces catch the light when he stops what he’s doing to smile for a photo. How he made them take a picture together that first day they met in the dorms. In just a few days you’ll be able to meet him in person. And maybe tell him sorry for accidentally breaking one of his ceramic plates.

Minghao quickly follows after his friend, bounding down the stairs, car keys jingling in his pockets. He stops in front of Seokmin and pulls his keys out of his pocket, waving them in front of his face.

“Let’s go.” He lightly slaps his friend’s knee twice. “I’m driving.”

Seokmin groans in response, letting his body slide down the sofa like a piece of butter on a hot skillet. He lands with a thud in between his friend’s legs, and the friend simply crosses over his friend’s body to make his way to the kitchen where you’re standing behind the island sink with an amused look on your face.  

Minghao places his arm on your right shoulder and leans into you, his floral cologne engulfing your senses, “Promise me your next boyfriend won’t be as lazy as he is.”

“I heard that,” Seokmin calls from the floor. “You can’t hide anything in our place. Not even your snacks that your friend brought back from China for you. It’s too small.”

The man standing next to you sighs and pats you on the shoulder twice before making his way to the front door. He tells you to text him your lunch order. Lunch will be on him today.

“Are you going to tell him he’s still wearing his froggy headband?” you ask Seokmin after Minghao closes the front door behind him.

“No.” Seokmin finally pushes himself off the floor and stares downwards at his old stained t-shirt. He frowns while lifting up the hem up his large tee past his bellybutton, inspecting all of his various stains, kind of embarrassed to venture in public wearing old clothes next to Minghao (even while he’s sporting the bright green cartoon froggy headband). Turning to you, he tells you that he’s going to run upstairs to quickly change before heading out. “Answer my phone on the counter if Mingyu calls. Hang up if Hao calls,” he instructs you from the top of the bannisters.

The sound of Seokmin’s soon to be shared bedroom door closing rings throughout the townhouse, and you are alone to yourself. Picking up his abandoned cellphone, you bring it to the living room area so you can look through the box of unwanted items the guys are thinking about donating. You know you wouldn’t mind taking a couple of Minghao’s old clothes — he would probably even give you styling tips if he had time. However, in the cardboard box are old second-hand college textbooks that they bought from a friend of a friend of a friend and a couple of hand-made tie blankets and gifts from exes. To be honest, the thought of throwing away that paid amusement park rollercoaster photo is extremely tempting, but the guys insist that the memories that the three of you share (and the price of that photo…amusement park items are heavily overpriced, but it works because people will pay for them) heavily overweigh a stupid ex whose face could easily be taped over by someone better looking.

Plus, the guys reassure you, your self-worth is much higher than whatever you lowered yourself to with that last ex. It’s about a year since you last dated anybody and even you know to never settle for less.

Fingers gloss over the knots and fringes on the fleece tie blankets, feeling the smooth fabric that’s slowly falling apart at its hand-tied knots. It’s a shame the guys are throwing away the projects, but the blankets don’t, as Marie Kondo says, spark joy. And to be honest, you don’t think the guys ever enjoyed receiving the blankets with the tacky and bright patterns. It was a weird time: both Seokmin and Minghao coincidentally dated best friends.

A familiar marimba ringtone plays from the phone in your lap and you bring the phone up to your face. Mingyu’s name flashes on the phone owner’s lockscreen and there’s a picture of him from probably his first year to go along with it. Freshman Mingyu, baby-faced and only eighteen, smiles back at you, awkward and thin-lipped, waiting for somebody to answer the video call.

It’s exhilarating thinking about meeting Mingyu for the first time. It would be no worries at all, a chill call. At least that’s what you assume from your fragmented idea of Mingyu composed of the different stories you’ve heard about him. You were also pretty sure you could recognize that man anywhere because of all of the pictures and videos of him that you’ve seen over the course of the last few years. And with a large breath in, you answer the call.

“Seok,” a deep and tired voice immediately mumbles from offscreen. There’s a slight lisp present, just as the guys have described. “Did you double-check to see if my humidifier still works? If it doesn’t then I have to find a way to ship the one I’m currently using over to our place within the next few days. Or do you think if I bought an extra checked luggage it would be cheaper?”

The room is dark, most likely because the owner lives on the other side of the world. You can assume his phone is leaning against something on his desk. There’s not a lot to see — most of Mingyu’s stuff is already being shipped back home on a plane or a boat. A lit table lamp sits on the floor next to his bed, the nightstand probably sold or gifted to somebody else. You hear the familiar rumble of a closing desk drawer and then see a hand reach for the phone.

“Seok?” The audio crackles when Mingyu picks up the phone and brings the phone up to his face.

Then you see him for the first time. Kim Mingyu. His tanned face glows under his dimmed bedroom lights. Black hair damp, dripping, and pushed back from his shower. The man who wears a navy blue silk top with a pearly white trim, who quickly adjusts his thick wire glasses to see you better, looks nothing like the young man from Seokmin’s Mingyu contact photo.

“Oh? Hi, you must be-”

You instinctively end the call before he could greet you, slamming the phone onto the couch like you’re using a fly swatter, feeling like you accidentally stumbled upon something you weren’t supposed to see. Heart beating fast, you sit there wide-eyed in shock.

If this Mingyu is the same person Seokmin and Minghao have been referencing to for years, then they have some serious explaining to do.

Seokmin walks into the living room while adjusting the baseball cap on his head, asking if Gyu called. He trades places with his cellphone, sitting down where you slammed it on the couch and unlocks his phone to look at the follow-up text that Mingyu sent.

“You hung up on him?” your friend snorts while reading his friend’s message. “Did he say something stupid?”

“No,” you mumble to nobody in particular, “just stupidly handsome.”

“Hmm.” Seokmin tilts his head side-by-side as if he’s weighing his options. “Not sure about the handsome part. But ‘stupid’ I can agree with.”

You see him again when Seokmin returns his call, clearly this time. Plump rosy pink lips and deep smile lines that dimple his cheeks even with the laziest smile. Eyes are always looking at the center of his screen, never in the corner. They widen then shrink into comfortable semi-circles when Seokmin casually adds that you’re single after suggesting that the two of you meet when Mingyu comes back.

“Great.” Mingyu smiles while waving goodbye to the two of you. “It’s a date.”

You, awfully dumbfounded after the call and who is now stumbling towards a fuming Minghao’s car, cannot comprehend how that man is single. You just can’t.

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[expatesque]

Perhaps too broad a question but I’ve moved into a new place and I don’t know where to begin with decorating. The actual features of the space are uninspiring, there’s some dark brown leather sofas I’m unsure of how to style etc, where do I start!

Hm. Okay so if you have no obvious architectural features to work with, then I would start with making some. I'm assuming this is a rental, so that means you'll have to use furniture. This got long so under the cut...

My absolute favorite thing to do with a meh space is make a wall of bookcases - Ikea Billy's in a variety of widths + an interesting combination of shelves (mix up the heights and mix glass and wood) can look amazing. Don't forget the lighting - buy the super thin wire down lights (from ikea or Amazon or elsewhere) and stick them in the top of each bookcase (you can slip the wire between the back and the frame), add lamps and spotlights actually in the bookcase (you'll have to cut holes in the back of the bookcases to get the plug through but an exacto knife will sort you out, just do your cutting before you attach the back). Put all the lights into one multi plug and put that into a smart plug and voila, you've got an amazing feature that you can pack up and take with you. Below is my old bookshelf wall, ignore the mess on the table.

Other ideas: get some statement furniture, like a coffee table or vintage sideboard or something and make that the feature. Set up the room so that piece is where your attention is drawn. You can also do a gallery wall - there's a million tutorials online but that's a really easy way to fill space and upgrade a bland area. If you have good windows, make them more of a statement with curtains - you can get reasonably priced ones from ikea and Etsy. Make sure to put the rod close to the ceiling and ideally get curtains long enough to touch the floor, it's an instant way to make your ceilings look higher. Do NOT cover the windows with the curtains, they should hang to the side to make the window appear larger.

But my overall, biggest piece of advice: to avoid the sad, made.com showroom effect, you've got to mix vintage and modern. Get out to auction houses, antique stores, car boot sales, Etsy, eBay, Facebook marketplace, etc and get hunting. This is by far the easiest and most versatile way to solve your problem - when your furniture has personality, it can do a lot of heavy lifting for bland features. Find a piece you love and let that inspire the space for you. For me, it was my French 1930s coffee table with the swan legs (an Etsy find). That set the tone for the whole room (1930s! Feminine! Frivolous!).

Good luck, this is going to be fun! (Below, a photo of the coffee table for posterity).

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