#white washed oak floor

[shes-the-latest-it-girl]

Flat Panel Closet in DC Metro Large modern dressing room design with a light wood floor that is gender-neutral, flat-panel cabinets, and gray cabinets.

[dakaria-ktp]

New York Formal Large danish formal and enclosed light wood floor and beige floor living room photo with white walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and no tv

[iamthelorenzo]

Home Bar Seattle Image of a mid-sized cottage with a single-wall light wood floor and beige floor wet bar, a shaker cabinet, a gray cabinet, a quartz backsplash, marble countertops in various colors, and a green backsplash.

[dearbluebmw]

Open in New York Mid-sized coastal open concept light wood floor family room idea with beige walls, a two-sided fireplace, a stone fireplace, and a wall-mounted tv.

[hellosaidthemoonisafangirl]

Family Room in Boston

Mid-sized enclosed 1950s game room with blue walls and a medium tone wood floor.

[willqraharn]

Dining Room in New York

Design ideas for a sizable, enclosed, Scandinavian light-wood and beige-floored dining room with gray walls and no fireplace.

[cassandra-jade-gray]

Living Room Denver Inspiration for a small coastal open concept light wood floor, white floor, vaulted ceiling and shiplap wall living room remodel with a music area, white walls, a two-sided fireplace, a wood fireplace surround and a wall-mounted tv

[90days-90reasons]

Modern Living Room - Living Room

Mid-sized minimalist living room with white walls, an open concept, a light wood floor, and a brown floor. There is no fireplace or television in this room.

[lovatobostinha]

Laundry - Farmhouse Laundry Room Inspiration for a large farmhouse utility room remodel featuring a multicolored floor, l-shaped ceramic tile, shaker cabinets, quartz countertops, white backsplash, and quartz backsplash. The room's other features include gray walls, white countertops, and an undermount sink.

[chelseafcazul]

Family Room Enclosed New York With white walls, a standard fireplace, and a stone fireplace, this large Danish enclosed family room photograph has light wood floors and beige floors.

[newmas]

Family Room New York With white walls, a standard fireplace, and a stone fireplace, this large Danish enclosed family room photograph has light wood floors and beige floors.

[idealfitnessdublin]

Dublin Living Room Home Bar Inspiration for a large contemporary open concept medium tone wood floor living room remodel with a bar, white walls and a wall-mounted tv

[queerkataguiri]

Home Bar Seattle Image of a mid-sized cottage with a single-wall light wood floor and beige floor wet bar, a shaker cabinet, a gray cabinet, a quartz backsplash, marble countertops in various colors, and a green backsplash.

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Thirteen

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Allusions to panic attacks, excessive gore, fluff with Simon at the end <3

Taglist: @waves-against-a-cliff @echo9821 @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan @dlishus05

Masterlist

I HATE THIS CHAPTER LIKE USUAL BUT I HOPE U ALL ENJOY IT

All you could feel was burning.

Your lungs were aflame, sucked into your ribs with every gruelling indent. Your thighs were worn down, almost skinned to the bone, oozing wounds of blood and puss pooling at your knees as you heaved, scraping past thorned bushes.

The trees felt alive, clawing at you with pointed wooden talons, the prickle of sharpened sticks tearing at exposed flesh. Swollen feet met tar, the eldritch smell of a metallic tang consumed you, rotting away in every sense as you panted.

Your skin was like leather, worn down and bleak as your body collided against the abandoned roads, the slaughtered sound of the walking dead nearing with every passing frame. The sight of them was familiar, only mangled now.

You weren’t sure what had happened.

All you remember is how it started.

The day was darker than usual, consumed by an epiphany of greying clouds. The rumble of thunder stalked your every move as you committed to your daily rounds, your heart smouldered by the grief that had caught up to you.

They had all smiled at you as they welcomed you with breakfast. Why did Gaz seem different? Was he ill? You shook it off with a smile.

Why did you shake it off with a smile?

Your stomach was hot now, a building sensation of nausea washing over you as you tended to your garden. You locked eyes with Soap, his own staring back with a darkened hue of blue, any surrounding white slowly turning into a bleak red. Was he tired? You would lecture him about sleeping earlier later.

You felt caged in as you entered the house once more, kicking off your over-worked shoes with a grunt as you headed for the sink, desperate to scrub off the caking dirt that stuck to your fingers.

Gaz was sweating now, droplets of milky residue working down his forehead as he coughed, spluttering into the palms of his hands. His skin turned a ghastlier shade by the time you faced him, his hands shaking before the rest of him followed suit, his body convulsing as it clattered onto the floor.

Your voice was mousy as you called out, your limbs plastered together as you overwatched Ghost press two fingers to his neck, chasing a pulse that wouldn’t come.

The timber that held the house felt weaker now, almost rotten, as it clattered under your feet.  It was crumbly, squeaking under you with every step as you heaved in what felt like mould.

Where was your gun?

You could hear Soap calling out to you, his voice nasally, almost inaudible as he choked on his accent before it turned to blood, his uvula dangling at the back of his throat with every metallic form of discharge from his lungs.

You were in your bathroom now, the tap running with what seemed like extra force as the drain clogged, murky water soon flooding the kitchen as you pounded at the door, rattling with the rusted knob. Your feet were drenched as you kicked in the wilted timber, the frame clattering under you as you climbed through the formed hole you had made, a wooden shard catching onto your forearm with a drag, a pained wince leaving your mouth as you clutched onto the wound.

Everything felt blurred, almost like you were stuck in slow-mo. You could feel Price’s shoulder under your fingers, his skin cold. Why was his neck bleeding? Your touch was soggy now, a familiar squelch sounding from under you as greying eyes met yours.

His grip was strong, holding you onto the breaking floorboards with every snarl, your skin tearing as you were pulled along wilted frames, the oak crumbling under your shoes as you cried. Price’s hands were at your stomach, clawing at the breaking skin with rotting claws.

You could hear your blood thumping as you kicked at his drooping frame, the bones in his legs tumbling into his ligaments as he clattered to the floor. You were dragging yourself to the door now, the grumble of corroding mouths swarming you as you trailed a bloodied path to your frame.

How did you make it to the forest?

The grass mocked you as you watched it die, the blades sphacelating with every step you took. Your hands were on your abdomen, clutching onto the open wound as blood spluttered, your grip pushing against the seeping organs that writhed against you.

Your vision had turned orange now, any welcoming colours forgotten as you pushed against a shrub with your shoulder. The sweet berries you used to eat now turned poisonous as you mewled into the air.

Your throat was closing in now, curling against your oesophagus as your hands pushed into your mouth, pressing into the back of it as you gagged, forcing bile across the ground as you heaved.

Why did you stop clutching your stomach?

You were on the road again. Your trail had gotten stronger as you skinned your knee against the blackened pavement. You felt your eyes close, fluttering to an abnormal silence as your lids ceased any light.

Everything was static now. Why couldn’t you open your eyes? Greedy hands pulled at your flesh, a searing pain moulting into your chest as festering digits tore at your insides, digging through your organs with a tug before holding them to degraded teeth.

You could feel them at your neck, tapping against your skin with uncertainty. Your mouth was parted open, the skin from your lips torn as you attempted to scream only to be consumed by one’s hand.

They were pushing down your throat now, scraping along sensitive walls. Your lungs were drowning, your nose heaving as you attempted to breathe before infested fingers held them closed.

Your eyes were open now, looking down in desperation. There was a strange indent against your chest, tugging and pulling at the veins that penetrated beneath the surface. You could see fingers now poking from inside you, rotting talons digging through the flesh before they pierced the exterior.

How were you still alive?

Greedy hands ripped at your ribcage, snapping your bones like measly twigs. It was red-hot pain everywhere. Your brain stopped thinking, overwritten by the intense agony that writhed through you.

You weren’t breathing. Your lungs were empty. They were mouthing something to you now, their lips consumed by gore. Why can’t you speak? Why can’t you hear? Hands were by your head, pressing along your scalp tenderly as bloodied fingers dyed your hair. Your eyes were wide, begging for sanity.

Your body was emptied now, the residue of beating organs trailed along the road. Your heart was spluttering inside someone’s stomach. Fingers toyed at your scalp, dragging along your forehead with a permanent indent.

You mourned the last of you, your brain repeating the words ‘you’re dead’ in a constant stream. Or was that your own voice? The faces around you were a blur now, their bodies melting into the tar as a swarm crowded you. Your eyes blurred as you took in the faces around you.

They were all you.

Your body was writhing against the sheets, a strum of sobs tearing through you as your teeth tucked into your lips, drawing blood. Simon was fast, his hands resting against the side of your head as he guided you back to reality.

Your voice cracked as you screamed out, shoving him away as you sucked in a breath.

“Sweet’art, you were having a nightmare, you’re okay. It’s just me.”

“S-Simon?”

Your voice was hoarse, stripped from all moisture as you pressed against your stomach, looking down at your perfectly fine frame.

“I’m sorry,” you mewled, finding your voice as you swiped the sweat against your forehead. The Lieutenant was harder to see in the dark, but you could make out the softness in his eyes.

“Don’t have to apologise. I get them too.”

Your brows raised momentarily before you smiled at him, holding your hand out as he grasped onto it. He paused for a moment before he held it to his chest. He was warm.

It was subtle but you could feel it. He could feel it too.

“When they used to get bad, I used to search for my heart and feel the beat. Reminded me that I was okay.”

“I can feel it,” you whispered, trailing your hand up his chest before it met with the apple of his cheek.

“I can feel you too.”

[a-major-love]

Night Fever

Pairing - Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader

Summary - Of all people you could have met that fateful night, it had to be him.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - MDNI, fem pronouns, mentions of smoking & alcohol, no use of y/n

A/N - I always imagined dancing with Michael was incredibly fun but also probably intimidating. Enjoy!

1977

Spotlights pierced through the haze of smoke filtering the air, beaming down on the partygoers. Sweat rolled off their skin, mingling with the overpowering stench of perfume and cigarettes. The men and women’s eyes twinkled at you, sparkling from pressed glitter. Their bright, painted lips mouthed along to the stream of ABBA lyrics filling the crowded space. The music pouring from the speakers vibrated under your feet. Studio 54 was lively, and terrifying all at once. 

“Friday nights are always the busiest,” your friend – Alicia –  mentioned from beside you. Her stark black hair was pulled into a tight bun, revealing her teal colored eyeshadow. The sequined dress she wore hung off her bronzed shoulders, flecks of glitter dotted her skin. 

You glanced down at the denim jumpsuit you wore, with a thick belt secured around the waist. Somehow, despite the pumps digging into the soles of your feet, you felt mildly underdressed. You scanned the crowd, biting your lip as your eyes swept over the other dancers. 

“Let’s go, birthday girl,” Alicia said, nudging you towards the center of the room. 

You giggled. “I’m just trying to appreciate the atmosphere.” 

“Well, you can go appreciate it out on the dancefloor.” 

She grasped onto your forearm, pushing through the cluster of hot bodies that brushed against you two. You could feel the men’s gazes pass over you, their heavy eyes glancing over your form before looking away. Glasses with golden liquid, and pierced olives swung around you as the people got lost in the music. 

You finally approached the middle of the dance floor, where a bright, glowing disco ball hung above your heads. Alicia broke out into a grin, her pearly white teeth pointed to the ceiling. Her dangled hearings whipped around her face as she began swaying to the music.  

It was initially her idea, at first, to celebrate your birthday at Studio 54. All you knew about the nightclub was that the entrance fee was too expensive, and the line never seemed to ease up. As much as you adored Alicia, you couldn’t find a good reason to stand outside all night – in New York during the spring – hoping to make it inside before the place closed. If there’s one thing you understood about spring in New York, it was how cold the nights could be. 

So, how in the hell she pulled this off, you were sure she would take to her grave. 

You laughed, watching her bounce around, throwing her head back. Acting as if a plethora of eyes weren’t on her. You swayed your hips, letting your eyes close as the sweet sounding harmonies of the Bee Gees washed over you. It felt as if everybody on the dance floor was in sync, breathing and moving in time with each other. 

Sharing one heart, one pulse to the music. 

Your body moved and rocked, becoming bewitched by the entrancing tune. 

“Excuse me-

You suddenly bumped into someone, startling both you and the stranger. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, whipping around to face them. A pair of oak, brown eyes crinkled at you as the strange man chuckled to himself. 

“It’s alright,” he assured, adjusting his blazer. “You’re not a bad dancer, you know.” 

You playfully grinned at him, “Have you been watching me dance?”

“I – uh didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered.

You scanned the man, taking in his wide doe eyes and large afro currently dusted with glossy confetti. A gold pendant rested between the dip of his chest, a sliver of deep brown skin peaking through the few undone buttons.

Somewhere, in the back corners of your mind, familiarity tugged at your brain. 

“Have we met before?” you inquired, furrowing your brows. 

“No, we haven’t,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly. 

You opened your mouth to reply, when he stuck his hand out. 

“Is it alright if we danced together?” he asked.

Heat creeped up your face, as you took his inviting hand – his skin was silky smooth and warm in your grasp. He softly smiled at you, as he tugged your form closer to him. Swiftly, he twirled you around, giggling at your reaction as you nearly stumbled from the sudden movement. You caught yourself in time, taking both his hands as you grooved to the deep bass coming from the speakers. 

His eyes remained trained on you, as if analyzing every motion and gesture you made. The music enveloped you two, as the dance floor fell away, along with the people surrounding it. The club was nothing but a blur of color, as the hot white lights radiated down on you two. The music pulsed through your skin, reverberating against your ribcage. The sweet, lingering scent of nicotine floated through the air. It was as if the dancefloor came alive from under your feet suddenly, a pulsating heartbeat belonging to the untamable beast known as music. His hands never left yours, as he pulled you into his side, before going into a spin. 

You watched, in fascination. “You’re not a bad dancer yourself.”

He bashfully smiled. “Well, I’ve been dancing for most of my life.”

“Do you do it for a career, or something?” “...You could say that.”

He twirled you again, interrupting whatever train of thought you were processing. 

The night went on endlessly it seemed, as if time had temporarily stopped. Yet, the crowd of Studio 54 never broke off. A stream of guests revolved in and out of the space, some dressed in dripping jewels that outshined the hanging disco ball or extravagant outfits that felt expensive to even look at. It felt as if you were in a lion's mouth, a wet, breathing cage waiting to clamp down on you. 

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around your frame.

“Let’s get going, my feet are killing me,” Alicia groaned, already tugging you away. 

“Wait!” The man called out, feeling your hand loosen in his grip. Alicia squinted at him, trying to make out his features through the alcohol induced brain fog. 

“You look a little familiar...” she muttered.

“I’ll meet you outside,” you explained, nudging your friend back. Alicia glanced over at you, glossy lips pouting at your urgency. She finally caved, rolling her eyes as she knowingly nodded and began to maneuver her way through the crowd. 

You turned to face him. “I had a really great time, uh-

“Michael,” he introduced, squeezing your hand. 

Had he been holding it the entire time?

“Well, it was really fun dancing with you, Michael.”

His eyes flickered between yours, as if weighing something in his mind. Michael eventually sighed, reluctantly loosening his grip and letting your hand fall to your side. 

“I hope we get to do it again, sometime,” he said. With wistful smile growing on his lips. 

You returned the smile, clenching your hand from the sudden loss of warmth. Without another word, you turned and made your way to the exit. 

The bumping music followed you out the double doors and onto the bustling street of New York City’s nightlife. A breeze brushed against your bare arms, biting at your skin. Alicia was leaning against a car, impatiently tapping her foot. Her eyes finally landed on you, wearing a strange expression you couldn’t quite place. 

“Girl, I have several questions,” she started, opening the car door for you. 

You snorted. “Ask me when it’s not past midnight.” 

She sidled into the passenger seat, as you started up the engine. The bright, white lights of Studio 54 reflected off the hood of your car. 

You could still feel his presence, even during the drive home. 

[nayziiz]

Forever | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (she her)

Author's note: Very short, but very soft.

Masterlist

The sun began to set, casting a warm golden tint over the sprawling vineyard that stretched out like a lush, green ocean. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses and lavender, mingling with the rich aroma of oak barrels from the nearby winery. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, strung between the towering olive trees, creating a canopy of stars that shimmered against the dusky sky. 

Guests mingled and laughed, their voices a pleasant hum that blended with the gentle strumming of a guitar from the live band positioned near the rustic, wooden dance floor. The band, dressed in casual, bohemian attire, played a melodic tune that invited everyone to sway and move to its rhythm, including the bridal pair, Pierre and Kika. Elegant tables draped in crisp white linens were scattered around, each adorned with delicate floral centrepieces and flickering candles. A long, beautifully decorated table stood at the heart of the venue, laden with an array of gourmet dishes and fine wines, reflecting the celebratory spirit of the occasion.

Charles stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes fixed on the centre of the activity. There, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the lights, was his partner, dancing with carefree abandon. The music seemed to flow through her, her movements fluid and graceful, her laughter a bright, contagious melody that added to the joy of the evening. She wore a flowing, navy dress with a slight glitter to it that caught the light with every twirl, the fabric rippling like water. Her hair, adorned with a wreath of wildflowers, cascaded down her back in loose waves. There was a radiance about her, a pure, unfiltered joy that made her stand out to him among the other guests. Her smile, wide and genuine, was the kind that made anyone who saw it smile too, spreading happiness like ripples in a pond.

Charles watched her, his heart swelling with love and pride. She moved effortlessly from dance partner to dance partner, drawing everyone into her orbit, making them feel like they were the only person in the world at that moment. Her energy was infectious, her spirit indomitable. It was moments like these that reminded him why he had fallen in love with her – her ability to find joy in the simplest of things and to share that joy with everyone around her, even at their friends’ wedding.

He took a sip of his champagne, savouring the crisp, bubbly liquid as he continued to observe her. She caught his eye and her face lit up even more, if that was possible. She beckoned him with a playful wave, her eyes sparkling with mischief and love. Charles couldn’t help but grin back, feeling the warmth of her gaze wash over him. He set down his glass and made his way towards her, weaving through the clusters of guests. As he reached her, she took his hand and pulled him into the dance, her laughter ringing out like music to his ears. He spun her around, the world narrowing to just the two of them amidst the joyful chaos of the wedding celebration.

They moved together, in perfect harmony, their steps synchronised like a practised dance. Charles held her close, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest, matching his own. The world faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them under the canopy of stars and fairy lights.

“How long is forever?” he wondered aloud, his voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of laughter and music.

“Huh?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion. She had been so lost in the moment, twirling in his arms, that his sudden question caught her off guard.

“How long do you think forever is?” he repeated, his gaze drifting towards a newlywed couple dancing nearby. “They promised to love each other forever, so how long is forever?” 

His eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability, returned to hers. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she studied his face.

“Are you having some existential crisis, baby?” she teased. There was a playful glint in her eyes, but she could see that his question was genuine, not just a passing thought.

“I'm just curious,” he said, a slight shrug accompanying his words. He looked down, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.

“I think forever is everything and more,” she began, her voice thoughtful and tender. “It's not just a timeframe, but all the small moments in between. The laughter, the tears, the joy, the sadness, the anger, the patience, the kindness, the forgiveness. It's how even when you're both long gone, your story will still be told and sung, swept away in the wind, etched in the Milky Way, so no one could ever forget it.”

He listened intently, her words resonating deep within him.

“Mmh,” he murmured, letting the weight of her words settle in his heart.

“What? Is that too philosophical for you?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.  He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I think that's exactly what forever is for us,” he replied, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “You know I'd love you forever and a day.”

“And I'd love you forever and a day, too, baby,” she whispered, her eyes shining with love. She leaned in, their foreheads touching, and in that intimate space, the promise of forever felt as real and as tangible as the stars twinkling above them.

As the song came to an end, she rested her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. Charles kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes, letting the moment etch itself into his memory. It was a beautiful evening, a perfect celebration of love, and as he held her in his arms, he knew that this was just the beginning of their lifelong dance together.