#epoxy flooring bubbles

[sinsandsweetness]

Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

-

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

[aller-geez]

The 2nd part of the 2 part ask for Draeko is this mini fic at 1.5K words ✨

To anyone who missed part 1, you can find it here

Thank you SO MUCH to the anon who sent in both of these, I hope I was able to answer your questions! 😬🫠

As the loud music that vibrated even the epoxy flooring under him continued to drone on, Draeko, who only stood at a measly 5’4 in a sea of what seemed like giants to him, suddenly had a large, flat open palm forced against his back. It wasn’t the same warm, wide hands of the demon who had drug him along to such a loud venue; of course, he knew those well enough just in the few hours they had stood in line together waiting for the doors to the dark building to finally open, as the redhead had to constantly defend him against getting ran over or tripped on by the crazy crowd of people that flew by them.

No, these hands were far more rough, and almost the size of a baseball glove. But just as quickly as the strangers hand had been pressed to the mutt’s back, it suddenly disappeared, allowing him to take a much needed gulp of fresh air from as high on his tip toes as he could manage, before crashing back against the floor on flat feet. Thankfully, the jarring motion of the smaller male struggling behind him alerted the tall, redheaded demon a few people in front of him in the rolling crowd. The mutt’s dual colored eyes locked with Alistar’s crimson ones, displaying the discomfort he was experiencing despite his effort to literally just roll with it.

The demon let out a small, defeated sigh, which brought a few looks from the people around them, but still he forced his way past the people that stood between him and Draeko with an obviously irritated grunt, clapping a hand against his shoulder once he had made it through and leaning down to his ear level.

“Hey, I thought you said you liked this kind of music…What gives?” Alistar practically screamed to ensure his voice be heard over the deafening music and cheering crowd, one of his deep red eyebrows arching to the top of his forehead in annoyance.

Draeko’s hands shot up in front of him, waving frantically back and forth in his own defense, a slight blush dusting across his cheeks as smiled back at Alistar.

“No, no! Nothing like that, I swear. The musics good! — I just keep getting pushed..” Draeko admitted to the other sheepishly as he, too, was forced to scream over the music, adverting his gaze back to the blinding stage as the vermillion shade to his cheeks grew deeper.

Al sighed loudly in frustration, grabbing one of Draeko’s slender arms forcefully in his palm. “Well, why didn’t you just say that?” The fierce scowl that adorn the redheads face instantly made the shifter furrow his brows self consciously. He opened his mouth to apologize, but was swiftly silenced by the forceful tug Alistar gave to his arm, quite literally dragging his feet on the floor to position him directly in front of the redhead.

“Just stand here. I’ll fucking deck anyone that gets in your bubble, alright?” The demon huffed, gripping a handful of Draeko’s sweater from the back and pulling him in closer to his chest, before eventually wrapping one long arm around the smaller male’s shoulders.

At first, the embrace from the characteristically cold demon made Draeko’s heart beat wildly in his chest, his face somehow becoming even more red than before. But very shortly after, as the music all seemed to fade together around them, Drae felt a very familiar sensation begin to tuck itself into the very tip of his small, round nose.

‘Not now, not now, not now….’ The mutt begged his body inwardly, scrunching his nose back and forth to attempt to thwart the inevitable. But he couldn’t help his small chest hiking twice in quick succession as his breath snagged. “Hh.. hiiihhh.…”

By this time, all of Alistar’s attention was directed back to the stage in front of them, his lanky frame bobbing behind Draeko to the beat of the song that was being played on stage. He had no idea of the struggles the smaller male was facing, seemingly out of no where…

As one of Al’s arms slipped from it’s precarious position on top of the other’s shoulder, a rather large gust of air jetted upward and directly into Draeko’s face, jostling his dual colored hair. An unfamiliar sickly sweet smell instantly made the mutt’s eyes water, and a few strangled breaths were gasped out through his gently parted lips.

Suddenly, Draeko pitched forward only slightly, his thumb and index fingers clamped tightly around his already streaming nose. “Hh’NDKT’ih! H’GXTSH’ue! K’GNSH’iiew!”

Thankfully the loud surroundings were enough to cover the sound of his 3 desperate stifles, and the movement around them allowed his sudden jerks to go unnoticed, without so much as a glance from the redhead still tangled around him.

Using the end of one of his sleeves, Draeko tried to discretely dab at the underside of his now damp nostrils, although even the gentleness of his touch only willed the blooming tickle to the tip of his nose again.

“Hiiihhh..” he whined into his wrist, sniffling with a thick, wet sound as allergic tears already poured down his pink cheeks.

The pathetic whine from the mutt below him managed to finally catch Alistar’s attention once again, and the grin that once spread across his face vanished, frustration starting to get the better of him at this point.

“What’s wrong now?” The demon huffed, “I thought you were just getting pushed… like fuck. We can just go hom—“ Alistar was stopped mid sentence as his crimson eyes finally peered forward and he was met with the red, streaming nose, and slightly hung open jaw of the small man in front of him, his glistening nostrils simply quivering from the overwhelming buzzing within his poor nose.

“Hhh… hhh— Hiihhh!” The mutt hitched desperately, his small chest continuing to rise with each breath of the teasing buildup and his eyelashes fluttering wildly against his rosy cheeks.

Suddenly, it all clicked in Alistar’s head. The new cologne he had boosted from the local mall kiosk had only just come out of the box when he went to freshen up before the next set..

So it’s just that easy? Good to know…

As Draeko’s head started to fall back against Al’s shoulder, the redhead got a front row seat at this angle, and who was he to let it go to waste?

Expertly gripping Draeko’s wrists and forcing them behind his back in one fluid motion, the small male could do nothing but gasp in surprise, which is just what Al had been hoping for…

The tickle buried at the tip of his nose instantly forced its way out before Drae could do much of anything about it; although with his hands restrained, each desperate, rapid sneeze misted the air around the two in all directions, only continuing to get more and more frantic as they went on.

“hh’KTishhh’yuu!! Hehh’KISHHH! ihh!! IHSCHHH!!” The mutts cheeks looked as if they would burn clean off of his face as more and more people in front of them started turning around with a disgusted expression. Draeko squirmed frantically under the demons grasp, but clearly Alistar had the upper hand in terms of strength, thus making him powerless except to do what Alistar wanted.

“IHSCHHH!! Hehh’KISHHH! Ihh’dsheeiew! iit’shHIEW! ISHHH’IIEW!” Drae continued to sneeze helplessly as Al tightly gripped both wrists behind him, until he managed to finally slip one through the redheads tight grasp and scrub pathetically at his raw nose that was now the same shade as his blushing cheeks. Thankfully this time, the small circular scrubbing motions the mutt was rubbing into his nostrils managed to at least force the overwhelming buzz back enough that he could try and shoot Alistar a death glare for such behavior. Instead, he was met with the aroused smirk of the demon, causing him to lose his nerve.

But it was just starting to get fun for Alistar.

“Bathroom. Now.” The redhead barked into the other’s ear, gesturing with a nod towards the dimly lit bathrooms in the back of the venue.

“Okay, okay, b-but no more c-cologne, okay? I — hiiihh! I cant h-handle anymore..” Draeko whined, a now soggy sweater sleeve once again pressed around his pink nose as he tried to gently sniff back the mess that threatened to drip down his upper lip.

Alistar scoffed, wasting no time hauling the still sniveling shifter towards the bathrooms, already panting heavily from excitement. “No promises, pup…”

Thanks so much for reading!

Alistar belongs to @thekinkyleopard

[starlitwhispers]

luck be a lady — arven x juliana (AO3 link) 10k words, High Society AU, Modern AU

Summary: Rich, confident, and worldly: only one of those words describe Arven and it's not the last two. Just when he thinks his luck has run out, he reads a strange ad with a phone number. And with that, his prayers seemingly have been answered. Or, Arven doesn't want to be responsible for a multi-million dollar company and falls in love with Juliana instead.

Her stilettos clack against the glossy epoxy floors, her figure silencing murmurs of people and parting them like a sea as she walks by. Her face is rosy, with a small glisten from highlight on her cheekbones and nose. Like cherubs flying across the Sistine’s ceiling, she’s simply divine and not what anyone expected to accompany him as his date for the evening. 

The soft amber glow from the crystal chandeliers overhead sets a romantic and warm ambience throughout the grand reception hall. At some point, someone accidentally knocks over a fluted glass — champagne bubbling across the floor — a dull crash drowned out by shifting feet and bodies brushing together. 

Her silhouette is sleek in a navy dress, the fabric hugging her body and stopping mid-calf. Slowly, she stops in front of her date, who has one man pulling on his jacket, fistful of the lapel, and another man behind him, seemingly sandwiched in a moment of hostility. She gently tilts her head to the side in obvious wonder and a playful smile curving over her glossed lips. 

The men, who appear to have roughly handled the man in the middle previously, lightly release him and step ever so slightly away upon seeing her, a little starstruck she thinks. She didn’t do much to gussy up for tonight, though. Her partner releases a sigh of relief and steps to her side, extending his elbow after fixing his jacket. 

The room has one collective thought: perhaps Turo Industries isn’t lost after all. 

— \ —

Streaks of light just barely stream through the black-out curtains of this cold, wide and modern room. There’s no noise, and as his green eyes slowly blink open, he sees specs of dust floating in and out of the rays peeking through. His only source of warmth wriggles by his feet, a small whine and whimper as the pet resituates itself. 

A small smile curves over his mouth, but just as quickly vanishes when he realizes he needs to get up for the day. Softly, his bare feet land on the chill floor as he sits on the side of his large bed, steadily moving to stand up. 

This is the hardest part of his day. 

A hand runs through his ashen blond hair, stopping midway for him to scratch it. A weird itch randomly hits his scalp. Often, he’ll scratch it in moments of bashfulness or when he has to make a hard decision. Similarly, he’ll ball his fist and clench his jaw. He’s too open of a book for anyone, he thinks. 

That’s right, he’s nothing anyone would be interested in. Except, maybe, his money. But for who he is individually, what they see is what they get. His fingertips pull at the center of his loose t-shirt, attempting to vent some air in and out from the fabric as he walks from the bed to the door. As he makes his way out to the living room and into the kitchen, he passes by a small pile of catalog envelopes. 

His stomach lurches a bit, catching a glimpse of the pile’s presence in his peripheral. The moment his 26th birthday hit, it’s as if he reached some magic number. This unfortunate magic number: marriageable age. Something about needing to meet a girl with a good “pedigree” like they’re his dog or something. Something, something. Something about a good background, education, something. 

In his mind, truthfully, it’s a whole lot of nothing. 

Not that he’s one to complain, he monologues aloud while pouring a glass of water from a crystal pitcher. “It’s not like you’ve accomplished anything of note, Arven,” he says, whipping his head to the side to face the fridge. “Some girl from an Ivy League is way better than I’d deserve I guess, right buddy?” 

He makes a sheepish, joking smile down towards his dog, who looks up at him in wonder. Arven peers into the fridge, seeing pre-portioned food in different tupperware. He sighs, wondering when the housekeeper left them. He has no issue eating them, but he furthermore has no issue cooking for himself, in fact… 

The young man catches his stream of thought and shakes his head. Nevermind. Better to not finish that line of thinking. Gently, his hand pulls out one of the containers, pops the lid, and shoves it into the microwave. He stands there watching the food rotate… and rotate… pointless, planned, passive. Him. 

He realizes this — he knows this — as he sees his reflection in the window of the microwave when the light goes out and the timer beeps. Arven stands at the grand, marble counter of his kitchen, peering over a spacious living room with a penthouse view. As he eats, he eats another prepared meal, in a home cleaned by other hands, paid for by his parents. 

— \ —

Somewhere else, in a different high rise, two young women sit and lie about on a plush queen mattress. One of them’s texting, furiously tapping away with a furrowed brow while the other is standing up to go to the nearby vanity. 

“Ugh, gosh no!” The one texting exasperates, slamming her phone into the mattress. She flops over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Nothing good?” The slender one in front of the mirror asks, softly cupping a cheek and tilting her head. She’s noticed a new freckle. Not that she minds, adds character she thinks. 

“You could say that. What are your plans tonight?” She responds, propping herself up with her arms momentarily while awaiting a reply. 

“You know, the usual?” 

“Any possibility… you could cancel and be with me instead? Pretty please? My dad wants me to go to one of these stupid meetings again, and I could really use the support,” she whines, her short bob lying against the mattress once again. 

The brunette by the vanity turns around, a slight frown on her face. She sits down on the matching stool, a plump and velvety cushion which she sets her foot on and brings a knee to her chest to hug. “Pen, I love you, but… I’m not too keen on those kinds of outings…” 

“Besides,” she continues. “I kind of swore off that stuff a while ago, remember? My business just started getting some reliable clients and to cancel tonight, well… Unprofessional don’t you think?” 

“I get it, I get it, but you would rather hang out with some dusty old dudes than hang with me? ” Penny pleads once more, pouting as her way of putting a cherry on top. 

“It’s not as bad as you make it sound, they’re honestly perfectly kind and well-mannered, they just need some pretty girl to sit next to them and laugh. And for the pay rate? It feels much better swiping my own credit card than someone else’s.” 

“I know you seem to mind it, but I certainly don’t,” Penny replies, an eye drifting to her vast plushie collection in the other half of the room. 

“Speaking of which, I have an engagement in an hour and then the one later tonight so I better go get ready for that! I’m sure you’ll kill it tonight, like you always do,” her friend says, heading for the living room and then regrettably the door. 

“Oh something will definitely be killed tonight…” Penny groans to herself, now alone in her room. 

— \ —

Arven fidgets in front of his full-length mirror, feeling out of his skin looking at the stupid ensemble he wears. To say he hates wearing any type of formal attire would be an understatement, but this is the world he was born into. A world of suits, shiny dress shoes, and ostentatious watches. To make himself feel a little better, he forgoes a tie and watch, feeling a tad bit more casual. 

It’s a nice, beige linen suit with a white dress shirt. Makes his green eyes really pop, the suitshop told him when he was fitted for it months ago. His fingers unbutton the top two, he needs to breathe he thinks and he’s not wearing a tie so what does it matter? He pauses, looking at himself again, more serious. What does any of this matter? 

It’s ridiculous he’s even entertaining his parents’ wishes in the first place, but what use does he have anyway. He’s stalled for as long as possible, even traveling for that one year after graduating university. He’s tried everything he can, breathing in air from every different country he could, thinking maybe it would change something in him. He’s evaded any corporate training for fear of lacking talent and in turn, his parents have evaded him at every opportunity. Every holiday, birthday, school break. It’s Arven and his Mastiff. 

Randomly, he hears a loud thump in the unit next door. He flinches at the noise, hearing a muffled groan that sounds feminine, and almost—he almost wants to go over and knock to ask if they’re okay. But he can’t, because he’s Arven, and they just moved in last week, he wouldn’t want to disturb them. Especially since he has somewhere he needs to be soon, anyway. 

His eyes glance at the analog clock on his nightstand, 6:09. This… meet-up is scheduled for 7. He takes a big breath and exhales it out, eyes closed. Arven looks over to his dog, his big body lying across the king bed they share (Arven just had to have the biggest bed once his buddy grew full-size) and slowly steps away. 

“Now my buddy, you stay right there…” he says to him, whose head cocks up, ears perking and head tilting and… a massive string of drool dangling from its sagging gums. “You definitely, without a doubt, cannot jump on me or nuzzle me—!” 

And with that, his extreme lunk of a dog springs from the bed towards its master, who has made his run for the front door. Hopefully with a little luck, he’ll arrive with sweat stains all over his jacket pits instead of drool marks. 

By the time he catches a taxi, it’s 6:15. The dinner rush traffic should have cleared up by now, shouldn’t be more than a thirty minute drive to reach the other side of the city. And as each minute passes in the back of the car, he feels the moisture piling up on his hands. He rests them on his knees, almost clutching them in nervousness. 

Why is he nervous? If he leaves a bad enough impression, perhaps she’ll walk away. She sounds eccentric enough, though. They’re meeting at this techno club that she co-owns. His heart starts pounding when the car finally stops at the destination. Did thirty minutes pass already? How? He might be sick, he thinks, as he hands the driver the money owed and shakily steps out, holding onto the door for dear life. 

How lame. Or isn’t this what he wants? Maybe she’ll think he’s unbearably uncool. Or does he want to impress her? At this point, he doesn’t know what he wants. 

Arven’s viridescent eyes bug out when he sees what he assumes is the bouncer… and the absurdly long line circling around the block. If he had known this beforehand, he would have left his place with much more time to spare! At the risk of being rude and late, he ponders if he should wait his turn in line or skip, looking like an absolute dipstick, by telling the bouncer he has an appointment with the owner. 

Whilst having his personal dilemma on the sidewalk, a black sedan pulls up to the curb. The driver steps out and around to the back door, opening it for his passenger. A small, short young woman steps out, wearing sneakers and a hoodie, but underneath the hoodie a loose mini dress. Her face is mostly covered by large sunglasses and the hood from her jacket. She passes by Arven with a kitschy bag with a million charms, slides right by security and heads inside. 

It’s that moment that a lightbulb goes off in Arven’s blond head — that’s the owner! …Or at least someone important, if they can head in so easily. His body moves without another thought, starting for the girl who slipped by and is obviously stopped by the bouncer. 

“Oh, uh, wait!” Arven calls out without thinking, again, as security holds him by the shoulder. “Are you Penny?!” 

Although she’s a couple feet inside already, she hears her name frantically called by an unfamiliar voice and turns her head. “...Do I know you?” She responds back, aloof. 

“A-Ah, yes! I have an, uh, meeting? Appointment? With you at 7?” He says, flustered and out of breath, trying not to look like a madman. 

“Oh.” All that leaves her mouth. For a moment, she just looks at him, sunglasses and hood on, and then waves her hand at the bouncer to let him in. Arven slips under the rope and she turns her head back to continue walking. He assumes this means to follow her. 

They pass by a narrow hall with bathrooms and then come to a large room with a bar and dancefloor. The strobe and LED lights are not exactly his cup of tea and neither is the music they’re playing. Some people are… dressed up in costumes, role-play as Arven heard it called once, he thinks. They pass this large room to a stairwell, which they climb and then enter a private room. 

Once the door is shut behind them (by security), all the noise, bumping, chatter, and music cease. It’s quiet, with a coffee table and two sofas placed on opposite sides of the table. The girl sighs very loudly, stretching her arms before she drops her whole body on the sofa furthest from Arven, who awkwardly sits on the sofa closest to the door. 

Abruptly, she whips the sunglasses off her face and the hood off her head and looks directly at him. And he looks directly at her, a little surprised by her appearance. She has short bobbed hair that’s… bicolored? Arven blinks, never thought he’d see that. 

“Let’s get this straight,” she says rather annoyed. Arven’s eyebrows knot in response to her tone. “I’m not interested. I’m here to make my dad leave me alone, besides—” her eyes give him a quick look-down. “You’re so not my type. No surprise that my dad would pick someone who looks as if he doesn't have a single blemish on his record.” 

Arven wants to feel offended, but it’s the truth, so he can’t. It’s not as if she’s read him wrong. This fixes Arven’s first problem, which is that he also wasn’t interested in this girl, but perhaps she’d be willing to help him out with his other one. 

“Then we’re of like minds,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. He balls his fists resting on his lap. “I was wondering though—” 

“Nope, not interested,” Penny cuts in. “Whatever it is, not interested.” 

Now he’s actually getting offended. Something about this girl’s attitude is really rubbing him the wrong way. He’s been perfectly polite this whole time and she won’t even let him finish a sentence? Arven takes a deep breath and then resumes speaking. 

“If you would ever so kindly let me speak, ” he emphasizes. “You can still reject my offer. I just need a date to this party my old man is hosting next weekend, and I thought maybe you could show up—” 

“And why would I do that? I just met you, dude,” she deflects, rightly. For a moment, she pauses, as if considering something — maybe his offer, crinkles her brows and then shakes her head in rebuff. “I don’t have any inclination to go to big wig parties, the lighting makes me tired and heels are a drag. Sorry, I can’t help you out. If you want, you can use my driver to take you back since it’s dark out, but that’s all I’ll offer.” 

Arven sits there for a moment, realizing he’s defeated. It was a long shot from the beginning anyway, he knew that, but as his shoulders melt and he trudges towards the door, he now knows he’ll look ridiculous without a date again this year. Right as his hand reaches for the doorknob, Penny adds in one last thing. 

“By the way, if you need to, feel free to use the bathroom on your way out… they’re pretty nice for a nightclub.” 

The young man looks at her, perplexed and almost fed-up with her version of “helpful” information. Feel free to use the bathroom~! His green eyes flutter at her blankly, and trying to still be an upstanding guy, he forces himself to give her a half-smile in gratitude before heading out. 

As he heads towards the exit, he decides to stop in the restroom anyway. He might as well splash some cold water on his face to snap him out of… whatever it is he’s feeling. Perhaps hopelessness? He didn’t necessarily want to take that Penny girl, but seeing as he knows so few women, he doesn’t have too many options to start. 

And he thought, maybe just maybe, if he brings some girl his parents picked out, maybe… 

His hand pushes through the restroom door, his eyes scanning the place to find a perfectly normal bathroom. There’s two urinals, three stalls, and a handful of sinks. Pretty typical for a nightclub, the only thing Arven thinks is different is that it might be a little cleaner. He heads to the closest sink and runs the faucet on cold, quickly cupping his hands and throwing the water at his face. 

He takes a deep breath and exhales, staring at himself in the mirror when he stands up from leaning over. He continues to pant, the water dripping down his face and his eyes are burning. Arven clenches his jaw, this is nothing to cry over. Why is he getting so worked up? 

His eyes unfocus off the mirror for a second, catching a flyer on the wall to his right.

 ‘Need a partner for an event? Need a date to impress someone? Or better, make someone jealous? Just call the number listed below!  (xxx)-xxx-xxxx …*Rates may vary upon event requirements… **Inquires of sexual nature NOT accepted’

The last line makes Arven a little pink in the face, but he can assure whatever kind lady shows up he won’t be putting hands on her like that. Not even a little. He is a gentleman! Gentleman’s honor and all that stuff he heard growing up. He takes it seriously. His hands are trembling a bit when he pulls out his phone, with a big gulp of his Adam’s apple. 

He’s never done something like this, hiring someone? Guess desperate times call for desperate measures. And boy, is he ever desperate, he thinks to himself. He taps the phone number into his phone… Maybe a text message is easier? If he were to call right now, his voice would not stop shaking. They would absolutely not take his request seriously. 

Arven finally exits out of the building, gently knocks on Penny’s chauffeur who lets down his window. He informs him of Penny’s offer and the driver nods his head. As Arven sits down in the back, on sleek black leather, his fingers twitch while mulling over good word choice. He begins typing. 

How do you do? No, no. Not that. 

Lovely evening, innit? He’s not British, why try the accent? 

I need a date. Straight to the point, as it should be. 

He smiles to himself, admiring his cleverness for constructing such a tactful message. Although he’s nervous, he hits ‘send’ without another thought. A couple minutes pass, they arrive at his apartment and he hops out of the car all the while still looking at his phone. Arven was never one to have his face glued to a screen until now. As he steps onto the elevator in the lobby, he finally feels his phone pulse in his hand. 

Hello, please tell me the type of event, day, and location. I’ll have to calculate your rate beforehand. 

Jeez, this person sounds like a real joy to be around. His eyes squint in a little skepticism, what if she’s older? In her forties or so? Maybe he should meet her beforehand? His thumbs start tapping the screen. 

Is it possible to meet and discuss in person?

He doesn’t receive a response right away as he walks down the hallway to his front door. He plugs the combination into the keypad on his lock, hearing a ‘bbrring brring’ with a green light on the lock flashing. Arven feels a vibration on his phone. 

Meeting to talk over arrangements is charged at a fixed rate by minute. Are you willing to pay for that as well?

Cuts right to the chase about being paid. At least she’s upfront about it, after all it’s her job, Arven thinks, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. He’s a customer and demanding her time, of course there’s monetary stipulations. He opens his front door and is greeted by his big lunk of a dog, happily sniffing his legs. Arven pets his big head with one hand, the other responding on his phone. 

I am willing to pay double the rate if you would meet now.

Now?! Arven kind of wrote that half as a joke and half… he doesn’t know what he’s doing. At all. But it’s a Saturday night, 8:30 with nothing to do. It’s a long shot, but if he could have this sorted out by the end of the night, he would sleep so much better. He wouldn’t care what side of the bed his dog took, either. 

Sure, please text me the address and where to go. 

His eyelids double blink in surprise. She agreed to it? His luck must be turning around now. Quickly, he types in his address with his apartment number and his dog scampers off to lay on the couch for a snooze. 

Levincia Lofts, Apt 57 943 Picnic Lane Mesagoza City, PA 10597

She responds instantly. 

Really? Nevermind…I’ll be over soon.

Standing in his kitchen once again, the light of his phone screen illuminating his face, he doesn’t believe what he’s done. He hasn’t even turned on the apartment lights since he just walked in and he hasn’t given himself a second to let everything sink in. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to, anyway. 

‘dinnng… donng…’

Arven slightly jumps in surprise at his doorbell sounding. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard it in the five years he’s lived here. It couldn’t possibly be the escort, as it’s been a literal minute since her response, so he wonders who it is. Quietly, and gently, he creeps over to the door to peer out the peep-hole, hoping they won’t hear him checking in case he decides to ignore it. What he sees puts him at ease. 

It’s a young woman, probably around his age, wearing a grey sweatshirt and her brunette hair is done up in a bun. She seems… kind. From what Arven can tell. But what does he know about people anyway. He stands there for a second, a little in awe that this pretty—well, polite-looking —girl is standing outside his door, and then stumbles back to reality. She’s waiting outside his door! The only other person who this could possibly be is the neighbor who moved in a week ago. 

He rushes to open the door, his heart pounding in shock and wonder. The abrupt and loud opening of the door startles her, but she quickly regains composure upon seeing Arven. 

“Uh… how can I help you?” Arven says, clutching the doorknob from behind the door hoping to conceal his nervousness. Brown eyes meet green in a split second. 

With that, she holds up her phone to show her messages app. Arven glances at it a moment, realizing she’s the escort. Wait — she’s the escort?! How on earth did she arrive here so soon —

Sheepishly, she smiles. “Looks like we’re neighbors,” she breaks the awkward silence. “I took that unit because the company said you would be a really good neighbor, who’d have thought I’d have a client next door…” 

Her eyes fall to the ground, then the wall, and then the ceiling, while waiting for Arven to say something. What he’s hearing… is that the escort he’s to hire is his neighbor? Whatever luck he thought he was running into has run away, because this only happens to someone like him. 

“Well, um… Would you like to come in?” He asks, stepping aside and holding the door. 

“Sure,” she answers, stepping right by him casually. Within the first two minutes that Arven has known her, he’s already envious of how relaxed and confident she seems to be. And it’s not an obnoxious, fake kind of confidence, it’s that true, deeply ingrained type of confidence that he’s only ever seen in one other person in his entire life. 

He rushes over to turn on the overhead kitchen light, realizing he still hadn’t turned any lights on in his home. “Sorry it’s so dark, I just got home.” 

The brunette looks over at him and tilts her head, “You’re completely fine, we live right next to each other so it’s not like I really gave you time to prepare.” 

“Right.” 

They stand across from each other on either side of his white marble island, in a graceless silence that almost burns Arven’s cheeks red. She softly places her phone down on the countertop and then her brown eyes make contact with his. 

“So, you’re looking to hire for an event? Or do you not want to go through with it anymore since you’ve found out I’m your neighbor?” Her tone is matter-of-fact but still giving off a warm feel. It’s true he doesn’t know anything about people, but he can just tell she’s a good person. 

“I would still like to go through with it,” he answers assuredly, nodding to her. “I’m sorry for springing a meeting on you so suddenly. Just kind of… desperate. I’m sure you’ve met loads of people with the same issue, though.” 

She shrugs her shoulders, confirming his words. “It’s no big deal, sometimes people cancel to be your partner or other things happen, nothing to be ashamed of! And, while I’m at it, my name’s Juliana. I figure we should know each other’s names if we’re doing business.” 

Her words are oddly affirming and comforting as she reaches across the island, her hand extended out cordially. Arven takes it, her grip is inviting and tender. 

“Arven.” He gives her a shy smile when they let go of each other and she gives him a big toothy grin. It’s almost childish but extremely charming. 

“So,” she lets out while stretching her arms upwards. “Want to give me the deets?” 

Is this really the same person he was texting? All the formalities seem to have dropped once she rang his doorbell, not that he minds. Those social etiquette or pretenses have never really been his thing to follow. 

“Yeah, so my dad is hosting this event next Saturday evening. You’ve probably heard of it, the Mirai Fair.” 

Juliana’s eyebrows raise at the mention of the event. Arven’s able to clock that she’s definitely heard of it, but she seems to be thinking a little deeper about it. And almost a second later, her eyes go wide. 

“Your dad is the CEO of Turo Industries?” 

Arven’s eyes go to the side, obviously uncomfortable at the mention of his father and trying to avoid her gaze at the same time. A slight nod is all he gives her in reply. 

“Oh sheesh, see why you’re desperate. Bringing a partner is one of the requirements for attendance.” There’s a pause between her sentences. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you, someone has already hired me for that night.” 

His shoulders droop, understanding all of his luck has run out. “It’s all right, I understand it was a long shot from the beginning anyway—” 

“But,” Juliana breaks in. “They still haven’t paid their fee. If you were to, say, pay first, I can cancel on them. It’s someone I’ve never met anyway, so I don’t mind.” 

Immediately, Arven’s hands clutch onto the edge of his counter and he leans over frantically. “I’ll pay it, I’ll pay right now, no matter how much it is!” 

His reaction catches Juliana off guard, but not in a bad way. His eagerness tickles her and she breaks out in a boisterous and infectious laugh. One Arven’s never seen or heard before, it’s so lovely and contagious he starts laughing too, feeling more and more relaxed himself. But her laugh catches the attention of someone else, someone who’s been awoken from a deep sleep on the couch. 

Arven’s dog pops his head up quickly from the sofa and then tumbles off the edge in a scramble. His big paws clack against the floor as he makes his way as fast as possible to Juliana, which Arven is trying to brace for. 

Instead of tackling her like his master had expected, he stops abruptly in front of her and sniffs her gently. Well, as gently as a big dog as he can do. He leaves a huge streak of drool across her sweatshirt, which embarrasses Arven deeply. 

“I’m sorry, since you live right next door and if you’ll let me, I can wash your sweatshirt for you and give it back sometime,” he says to her while she greets his dog. 

“Oh that’s all right! I don’t care at all! What’s his name?” She asks innocently. 

“B… Boss…” Arven answers, stammering and blushing. He’s evidently abashed by the name, although Julianna can’t figure why. 

“That’s a super cute name! Who’s a good boy Boss?” She chants, petting and rubbing the dog’s big head. 

Arven laments for a moment, thinking about his dog’s name. “He was originally named that because my dad gave him to me, and when I was younger I really liked how my dad was, well, y’know, the boss. But now I like to think it’s because Boss is now the boss of my life. Where I go, he goes. It’s always been us two, always will be.” 

For a moment, he forgets how vulnerable and personal he just became and then catches himself. He looks over to Juliana to see her reaction, which is soft and seemingly empathetic. Unsure as to why, he suddenly feels flustered, and uncertain as to how to continue the conversation. Obviously, things are pretty much covered, all he needs is to pay her. But strangely, for the first time ever, he has a guest he doesn’t want to leave right away. 

“Well, if you’d like, we can discuss the pay—” 

Juliana starts, but abruptly a large stomach grumble resounds throughout the kitchen. She brings a hand to her stomach and laughs nervously. 

“Sorry,” she continues with a chuckle. “Originally, I had a booking tonight, but they cancelled at the last minute. Something about getting the girl he wanted or whatever to like him back. So I didn’t eat dinner and decided to continue unpacking this evening instead.” 

Arven looks down at her stomach, feels a weird itch on his head and scratches it. “I…I could make you something… but only if you want! I have plenty of stuff in my fridge and pantry,” he offers awkwardly, his cheeks flushing. “I’m not too bad of a chef…” 

She gazes back at him keenly and expectantly, “I’m not the kind of girl to turn down a good meal! I love food.”

He lets out a soft laugh, a feeling of fondness washing over him in her company. With that, Juliana takes a seat at one the barstools, talking to Arven whilst he prepares a dinner for two, because he doesn’t mind a light snack in the evening either. In the glow of his golden kitchen light, Arven smiles to himself while listening to her as he sautées meat and vegetables. 

Later, he’s taking a seat next to her at the counter with plates in front of them. She makes a big deal about his food, something about how she can’t believe he does it as a hobby. Juliana moved to this high rise because her friend recommended it. He says he hasn’t had a neighbor the entire five years he’s lived there. 

Boss has retired back to the couch, where — surprisingly after dinner — they head to while talking. Arven’s telling her about this cooking channel he loves watching, apparently his favorite segment is coming on soon. And as Arven surfs through the channels, the television light flashing over their faces, Juliana thinks to herself how this isn’t like her at all. 

It’s strange, it was as if the moment she saw Arven’s face, the professional front had crumbled. There’s just something about the way how kind his face feels looking at it, something endearing about the way he becomes shy, and how he’s so transparent. She likes that, because in a job that’s all about appearances and façades, she could use a little truth. 

A little ironic, since he’s paying her for an event next week. And the idea of that makes her uncomfortable. Weird, usually she just shows up and leaves. But he is her neighbor, of course she wants things to be amicable, she reasons with herself over her funny feelings. 

She sits a little closer to Boss on the couch, thinking that he looks especially cuddly. He notices her scooch next to him and attempts to stretch out onto her, his big front legs falling off the edge of the couch and one of them landing on top of Juliana’s foot. 

“Eeh, ow!” A wince escapes from Juliana’s mouth as she pulls her foot away from Arven’s dog. 

“Oh man, I’m so sorry, I know his foot is heavy but I didn’t think it would hurt you,” Arven profusely apologizes, somewhat leaning forward in worry. 

“Oh gosh, sorry, don’t worry, it’s not his fault at all!” She waves him off with a grimacing smile. She then slightly pulls down her sock, to show a dark bruise at the top of her foot. “I dropped a pan on myself earlier, it’s just a little tender.” 

That’s what that was earlier, Arven thinks to himself. Abruptly, he stands up from the sofa and heads to the kitchen. A moment later, he returns with an ice pack. 

“Use this, it might help a little bit,” he says and offers it to her, which she steadily takes from his hand. Juliana looks at the ice pack, and then at him. He gives her a reassuring smile and a thumbs up. 

“You always have to be prepared!” He adds on. 

“Heh, yeah,” she agrees, smiling at him. And suddenly, Arven’s not sure what it is, maybe the blue and white lights casting over her face from the TV, or the loose hairs from her bun falling on her cheeks — it could even be the way her chocolate eyes sparkle — but she’s simply breathtaking. He also knows he’s never felt the way he does now and he has not the slightest clue what to make of it.

More naturally than at dinner, they start talking about all sorts of things again. She reveals her mother owns a sandwich shop, actually a sandwich chain, and she didn’t want much to do with it, which is why she’s doing what she does now. Arven explains he’s not one much for business and innovation like his father is, and how it often makes him feel like… 

“Well, you can probably make out what it’s like for me,” he tries to shake off his feelings. He doesn’t want to look too wishy-washy in front of his new friend. …Friend, yeah. “I feel like I’ve done all that I can to avoid taking responsibility, but I guess it’s time to face the music.” 

“You don’t have to be miserable, you know,” Juliana says. “It’s scary putting yourself first, but once you do it, you won’t regret it. Sure, it was hard for me at first, and still is sometimes, but I’d rather be happy doing what I want than living someone else’s life. I want to live my life.” 

Arven is in awe, he knew she was special the moment he saw her through the peep-hole, but she’s able to say it so simply and live her life so simply. Maybe, it can be the same for him. 

“I mean, you wouldn’t believe what happened the first night after I left my mom’s—” 

And he sits there, like a child happy, listening to her go on and on about her adventures. Taking in every word with bated breath, feeling like he’s free through her words. With every passing hour and tale, he begins to think it could be possible for him. She fills him with hope, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Arven could curse every other inconvenient or awful thing that’s happened in his life, but if he knew it would lead up to this night, he’ll say it was all worth it. Perhaps luck really is on his side, this time. 

They continue talking through the night, until eventually, they both fall asleep. Juliana’s last thought before her eyes close is that she wouldn’t be charging Arven for tonight, this isn’t business. 

Not at all. 

— \ —

Over the next few days, they begin to see each other more often. In passing, she explains she has all different kinds of bookings. Accompanying men on business dinners, lunch dates with other couples for guys who were begged by their friends, fake breaking-up with men at a bar to garner sympathy, etcetera. 

To say Arven’s impressed at her versatility would be an understatement. She starts coming over for meals every so often, talking about her day or whatever booking she has next. Juliana says she’ll never mention names, the privacy of her clients is important to her. Arven seems to be content just knowing she’s safe and takes the extra precautions to keep clients at a distance, or so she says. 

If she’s as thorough about keeping clients at arm’s length as she implies, she wouldn’t be sitting on his couch almost every day, or even borrowing a sweater here and there when she’s cold. That first morning, after Arven asked for her sweatshirt to wash it, she nabbed one of his in return. “It’s a placeholder,” she says as she’s held onto it for the last three days and Arven has already given her sweatshirt back same-day as washing it. 

He doesn’t mind, though. He doesn’t mind at all. She’s suddenly catapulted her existence into his life and somehow he doesn’t know how he ever lived without it before. It’s now been five days, and she says she wants to go shopping together to find matching clothes for the event. Arven’s only ever been in a suit shop with his dad’s assistant, so he’s not exactly sure what he’s looking for. 

Juliana says “Don’t worry,” as she looks through swatches and catalogues. And she certainly doesn’t instill confidence when she makes herself comfortable on one of the couches, giving the attendant a list of suits she’d like to see Arven try on. 

If anything, over the next hour and a half, his face is as vibrant as cherries from the embarrassment. She’s cooing, going all “oooh,” and “hmm,” or “definitely not that one.” The rejected suits made him a little offended, but he’d rather she be honest than fake with unfounded flattery. There’s also a couple moments where she giggles to herself ridiculously, and he doesn’t know what on earth to make of that. 

But finally, she says this pinstripe navy getup with a whole waistcoat is perfect for him. And as Arven also looks at himself in the mirror, he never understood the term ‘clothes make the man’ until now. Perhaps it’s just as special because Juliana picked it out for him, he nods to himself in agreement with his thoughts. That must be why. 

After having the time of his life modeling, they head out for some food. They’re having a ball with jokes and sarcasm, but Arven’s wondering at the back of his mind why she never charged him for that first night, and why she still hasn’t sent him a quote for Saturday. As they become closer, he also starts to feel strange about the prospect of… paying for her company. 

The sun begins to set in the distance, its orange hues streaking through buildings’ edges and alleyways. As they make their way home, Arven asks her a different question, not quite courageous enough to ask the ones that matter. 

“Why didn’t you like those other suits? Were they that bad on me?” 

A smile breaks over her lips as she turns to meet his gaze. “Absolutely not, I have to think about how it will match with me, too! And some of them, while it looked great on you, the colors wouldn’t do too well on me.” 

Arven pouts his lower lip a little, his eyes looking off to the side, away from hers. “I’m sure any color looks perfect on you,” he mutters to himself. 

Juliana doesn’t catch what he says as they wade through the dinner crowds on the sidewalk. And as the crosswalk sign turns green, the density of people seems to deepen and Juliana finds the distance between her and Arven growing. All of a sudden, she’s lost sight of him amongst the throngs of people walking against her. 

Usually, people don’t bother her like this, but losing touch with him unexpectedly has thrown her into an odd fit of emotions. Out of nowhere, before she can reach for her phone to call him, skin touches skin — palm to palm — he’s grasping her hand. A wave of relief washes over Juliana at his contact. 

She turns and sees him, a single drop of sweat sitting on his temple. Arven’s face is flushed with evident panic, even though they were apart for only a minute or two. 

“Keep up, will you?!” He says somewhat distressed, his warm and large hand still clutching hers tightly. 

The tension releases from her crinkled brows and she smiles back at him.

“Oh all right, if you insist,” Juliana replies to him with a grin, holding his hand back and whisking it in his face before dropping them down at their hips. 

And just like that, they walk all the way home hand-in-hand. Like there’s nothing wrong with it at all. Like there’s absolutely something between them. And it has everything to do with how Arven feels when he says goodbye to her at their front doors and shuts the heavy wood behind him. He pushes his back against the door, slowly sliding down until his bottom hits the floor. He can only hear his heart pounding although his dog rushes to the front to greet him. 

There’s only two more days until Saturday. 

— \ —

The next day, Arven doesn’t see Juliana at all. He doesn’t even hear her leave the apartment, but it must have happened before he woke up. Yesterday she mentioned how she would be out all day, something about important meetings. He makes the assumption they’re ritzy bookings with wealthy men, which tug at his mind a little. 

It’s her job, of course she has to go out and do these things. He’s not sure why it bothers him so, and ends up spending the day trying to sort out his feelings to find out the answer. It’s not like him to feel so… territorial? Possessive? Arven shudders at just the thought of those words, they’re so negative and wrong. But he’s lying if he says they don’t somewhat describe what he’s feeling. Maybe they’re not exactly it, but they’re pretty damn close. 

He sighs to himself, surfing through his phone for recipes to make for dinner tonight. Juliana’s not picky, and neither is he, so he enjoys being able to experiment and cook more often. Really, he hasn’t cooked in a long while, he’d long given up on it, but this past week has made him feel a real sense of satisfaction — not just watching Juliana eat his food, but with himself for completing the action. 

Before he knows it, 4:00 PM rolls around and it’s time to start making dinner. Arven spends the next hour and a half constructing delicious braised duck. She’s usually knocking at his door around 5:30. He sits at the counter, watching the food grow cold and his dog has long since left, given up begging by 6:00.

She doesn’t show. 

Arven decides to shake it off, putting the food away and into the fridge for better keeping. He resigns for the night, dismayed she did not show, but also worried since he hasn’t heard from her all day. After brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas, he lies in bed with Boss at his feet. He stares at his phone, contemplating messaging her. 

You doing okay? He deletes it. 

Boss missed you! Deletes it again, this time with a pursed lip. 

Good night, I hope you have sweet dreams. That’s good enough. 

Even if this is the first day since they met that he hasn’t seen her, she can live her life. She doesn’t owe him anything, to answer him, to come over everyday. If anything, he owes her. Arven owes her everything, because while it’s only been six days, it’s felt like an eternity but a second all at once. He’s never connected with someone like this, the late night conversations, the laughs, the soul-bearing. He owes her everything but has given nothing in return. 

Calmly, and desperately, he closes his eyes to fall asleep. He’s hoping to fall asleep soon because that means he’ll see her sooner. The prospect of even seeing his parents tomorrow doesn’t bother him at all, because not hearing from Juliana bothers him far more. Receiving his wish, he drifts to slumber with only a little difficulty. 

While snoozing, the screen of his phone lights up on his nightstand. One message. 

Good night! I won’t be around tomorrow either, so I’ll meet you at the party!

— \ —

The next morning, when he wakes, he sees her message. And he sees that she sent it to him only a couple minutes after he went to bed. Arven curses himself internally and then hops out of bed to start his day. And his day, just like the day before, is rather uneventful. 

He spends it reading up on culinary schools, the costs, etc. He researches and stumbles upon forums talking about living independently, how to afford groceries and saving money on a tight budget. His stomach begins to flutter with anxiety, thinking of how on earth this conversation could go with his parents. But then Juliana flashes into his mind and he scratches his head in frustration. He can do it. 

Arven eats light meals, not feeling too much of an appetite with tonight on the horizon. He feels like there’s a lot to address tonight — what with his parents, and then there’s Juliana. Is she showing up tonight? She never gave him a quote, he never sent her a single cent, but she says she’ll be there. What does that mean? Does it mean what he hopes to think it means? 

He walks into his room, staring at his navy suit on the hanger. After a thorough shower and blow drying his long hair, Arven meticulously begins dressing his body with the ensemble. He fastens his tie, just right. He fastens a silver watch to his wrist, hoping he doesn’t pinch his skin. And lastly, he fastens the laces on his glossy, leather dress shoes. 

Green eyes stare back into green eyes as he eyes himself in the mirror. He wonders what Juliana would say, what she would think of how he looks now, tailored and trimmed. Arven, too, wonders what she will look like later tonight. He endures a throbbing in his chest, having realized in the time since last night and now, exactly just how he feels about her. 

“I wish… you could be my actual date,” he says quietly to his reflection. And, just by imagining saying that to her, his face beats scarlet. If he can barely even say it to a damned mirror, how on earth could he actually say it to her beautiful face?!

The young man takes a deep breath and then exhales it with a loud yell. Maybe vocalizing it will help him feel better. And it does, momentarily, until he realizes he needs to grab a cab and make his way to the huge reception hall his father booked out. The drive over seems to pass by in a blur, watching the other car lights streak by in the evening twilight. 

When he hops out of the car, he makes his way past the scattered people all standing around the entrance, everyone dressed in their suits and cocktail dresses. He could feel a few people’s gazes on him as he ascended up the steps to the entrance, but he knows that’s nothing compared to what he’ll experience when he steps inside. Arven meets security at the entrance, two men on either side, with a third checking invitations. 

Arven never needed invitations to events hosted by his father; he only has to show his face. All personnel and security detail know exactly who he is, so they nod at him and allow him to pass by with no difficulty. As he enters the grand, expansive semi-circle foyer at the front, more and more people begin to notice him. And by the time he enters the main room, each step brings waves of hushed murmurs. He places his hands in his pockets, dropping his shoulders and his chin slightly to try and hide his face. 

When he was younger, he seldom showed his face at places like this as he always felt out of place. He thought the same last year, when he attended for the first time as an adult, and his feelings haven’t changed no matter how much he ages. Everyone’s here to put on airs or make good with his father… and collectively look down on him. 

He’s heard it all at this point, and as he tries to make his way across the room to where his parents are, he’s approached by two other executives who work closely with his father. The two men stand on either side of Arven, appearing cordial. 

“Why, it’s the prodigal son!” The first one says in his robust and merry voice. Hassel, although exuding the appearance of someone quite intimidating, always reminds Arven of one of those vibrant and scrupulous art savants that frequent the museums downtown. “How goes the marriage hunt? There’s no lady on your arm tonight, unfortunately.” 

Arven bites his lip as they walk towards a drink table with pre-poured champagne glasses. “It’s… going,” he quietly replies, which isn’t a lie. If he is to consider Juliana, it’s definitely not a lie. “My date is running late, she’ll meet me here.” 

“O-Oh! So you have one! Isn’t that fantastic!” The other one finally breaks his silence in his soft timbre, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Your parents kind of sent me over with Hassel to see what the situation was, sorry about that.” 

“I’d already assumed, don’t worry,” Arven shoots back, rustling the front of his jacket to make sure it is not crooked. Something sparkles in both sides of his peripheral vision, and his eyes turn to look at Hassel’s lapel and then Jacq’s. Some kind of matching pins, with the stupid logo belonging to his father’s company. 

“What are those?” He asks harmlessly and thoughtlessly. 

“Ah!” Hassel exclaims, looking upon Arven’s jacket. “It’s the gold pin given to mark all important attendees for today’s event, I suppose they must have forgotten to give you one at the door!” 

Jacq’s eyes go wide at his colleague's words, who somehow wants to shut him up but cannot do so in front of Arven without being blatant. It’s no company secret that the relationship between the CEO and his son is… less than favorable. Hassel, however, has always been one to ignore the rumors in the air and blow past social nuances. 

“That’s quite all right then, you can have mine for the time being and I’ll grab another later,” Hassel continues, unclasping the pin from his jacket and approaching Arven closer, who has yet to respond whatsoever. 

Arven begins to tense up, feeling defensive about the pin. He doesn’t want to feel hurt about not receiving a pin, but he certainly doesn’t want to be given someone else’s out of pity. His tall body begins to lean back, away from Hassel, who ends up grabbing a fistful of Arven’s lapel accidentally. Jacq, who has picked up on Arven’s body language and Hassel’s pushiness, places himself behind Arven, unsure how to intervene. 

In what looks to be a hostile moment between three men, Juliana steps in front of them, the heel of her shoe tapping into the floor. She tilts her head to the side in confusion and Jacq and Hassel spot her, stunned by her beauty and realizing that she is here as Arven’s date. Both men, collectively sharing the same thought at the same time (‘don’t mess up Arven’s date!’), step away from him and smile at Juliana. 

“Wasn’t expecting you to be fashionably late,” Arven sighs, shrugging his shoulders to fix his blazer. He extends his pointed elbow out to her, which Juliana takes in kind. “I was expecting you to be fashionable, though.” 

“I think we make quite the couple, don’t we?” Juliana says, following alongside him. 

And all Arven can think is, are we a real couple? A fake couple? Anything at all?

Now that Juliana has arrived, he can deal with the most problematic part of the evening: his parents. And the sooner he deals with it, the sooner he and Juliana can leave and possibly go eat ice cream somewhere. 

They make their way to the other side of the reception hall, where Arven’s parents inevitably reside. With each step, he can feel more and more of the room observing him, and the feeling in his feet begin to fade in nervousness. Right as they step up to his parents, he almost gags at the saliva catching in his throat. 

Juliana squeezes his bicep, her hand still holding onto his arm. He snaps from his anxiety to look at her face, her eyes are calm and peaceful. Arven takes a deep breath, he can do this. 

“G-Good evening, mom and dad,” he starts first, losing all feeling in his face. He’s not sure if he’s forgetting to breathe, too. “This is my date, Juliana.” 

His parents look at him, then Juliana, then to him again. His dad seems to express good spirits over his presence, while his mother gives a small smile and nods behind him. Juliana smiles back at them, and she and Turo shake hands congenially. 

“It’s always wonderful to have you here, Arven,” Turo replies, observing his son’s appearance. He thinks, for the first time, his son looks like a man. His brown eyes catch the pin on his son’s lapel. “Where did you get that?” 

Arven looks down to his own chest, following his father’s vision. “Oh… Uh, this? Hassel gave it to me, he said they forgot to give me one at the door, but I know they probably wouldn’t make a mistake like that, if you don’t want me to wear it, I can take it off...” 

Arven tries to explain himself, frazzled and trying to not get anyone in trouble for wearing it. He would never assume he’s someone to be marked at an event like this, and without a doubt his dad wouldn’t want him assuming some kind of important either—

“You should take it off, because I have a different pin for you,” his father says, looking to an assistant on the side to come forward. 

“Wait, what?” releases from Arven’s mouth, stupefied. His father takes a small ring box from the employee, opening it and then extending it out to Arven, who takes it out of reflex. 

“You’re the son of the CEO, of course your pin should be different from everyone else’s. You are the only person second to me, and one day, you may be me.” 

Arven stares down at the especially made pin, carefully sitting within a velvet box. He suddenly feels an itch on his scalp. His eyes turn up to meet his father’s. It’s time to finally be honest.

“I… I don’t want to be Turo’s son anymore...!” Arven raises his voice, clenching his fists. “I want to just be your son, and be myself. I want nothing to do with this company, I never have, and you’ve always known that.” 

There’s a pause and he swallows before continuing in a lower, calmer voice. 

“…I want to explore cooking, and what that could look like for me in the culinary arts. I could fail, I could succeed, I don’t know… But what I do know is that I won’t ever find out unless I try. And I’ll do it, with or without you supporting me… because I know I have other people who believe in me.” 

Juliana’s face is speechless, unsure how to proceed with what Arven has just confessed. His parents, particularly his father, do not exactly seem phased, however. In fact, strangely enough, and to Arven’s frustration, Turo smiles. Arven assumes this means his father has failed yet again to take his words seriously, or let alone see him as a man. After all, how could he? Arven can’t stand in front of him on his own two feet equally, he never could— 

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to find you a replacement then,” Turo says, placing a hand into his pocket. “Isn’t that right, Miss Juliana?” 

“Huh?” Arven’s shoulders seemingly rest, his body turning to her in confusion. She looks to him, sheepishly smiling and bobbing her foot back and forth on the heel. 

“About that…” Juliana starts, avoiding Arven’s striking green eyes. “You know those meetings I told you about yesterday? I actually met with your dad. Turns out he and I knew each other before the fact anyways! I had been selected to do a really special internship under him my senior year in college. It was really easy getting in contact. He and I had conversations about what he saw for the future of his company and when I met you and found out you were his son, well I…” 

A moment passes, and Arven still hasn’t spoken. She can’t read his expression and feels guilty for going behind his back. In a way, it helps them both out, but perhaps this isn’t entirely what he wants, of course. 

“I-I’m sorry, I know I didn’t ask you beforehand. I should have. But I just thought this was the easiest way, I can’t continue to be an escort if we’re going to be together, and you’ve expressed so much dislike for taking over the company. Now I’m just rambling and you’re still not answering me—” 

“...What?” Arven finally cuts into Juliana’s blathering, rosy tint spreading over his face. 

“What…?” She responds in kind. 

“Us? T-Together?!” He stammers, and as he struggles to contain the blushing, his father tilts his head at the others listening around to scurry off. Turo makes himself scarce, Arven’s mother following in tow, a little and mischievous smile across her balm-stained lips. Perhaps his parents have never been against him since the beginning — but that��s a thought for him to tackle another time. 

“Oh, I guess I messed up again, didn’t I? How embarrassing, I usually can read people so well, Arven I’m so sorry if I’ve assumed you had feelings for me, I mean the other day with the hand-holding I was so sure—” 

In the midst of more Juliana over-explaining herself, Arven approaches her gently and takes a hand, softly holding it between both of his own. 

“It’s not all in my head?” He asks, his eyes are tenderly welling up with tears of happiness. 

The girl before him is dumbfounded, unsure how her own feelings could have come across as anything less than interested. She breathes out into a smile, looking up at him and her face dripping with only affection. 

“Unless it’s all in mine,” Juliana answers cheekily, shrugging her shoulders. 

The two embrace each other fully and contentedly, with Arven sweetly placing his chin atop Juliana’s head. He closes his eyes, breathing in a very different kind of air for the first time in his life. Something truly life-changing, something incredibly worthwhile. 

Something lucky. 

— \ —

That same evening, in a high rise elsewhere, there’s a girl lying on her stomach in bed. She’s in the dark, surfing the internet on her laptop. Doomscrolling, she calls it. The laptop illuminates her face with shadows accentuating her features, the computer reflecting back in the lenses of her glasses. She grabs a plushie and sticks it under her chin, propping her head up. A headline pops up and she reads it with the most amused face. 

‘Breaking: Turo Industries Successor Tied to Sandwich Heiress, An Unexpected Match’

She bursts out laughing. Her dad better not send her on another one of those stupid marriage meetings again. None of her friends are single anymore, that was the last one. 

[sylfen]

Inversion: Ch. 6 - The other side

Chapter 1 ←Previous Next→ On Ao3.

Relationships: Ramattra/Genji Shimada, Cole Cassidy/Hanzo Shimada

In his silent confinement, Ramattra had been granted ample time for thought, and with the precedent set by Overwatch's command, expectations foretold the dawning meeting to be conducted in a similar manner. Therefore, when the magnets whirred off and the door parted, Ramattra snapped to attention, adrenaline rushing at the spontaneous prospect of escape.

Except raising his hanging head was a dire mistake, to meet with a green glow in the dying, artificial light beyond the threshold. 

Genji stepped in, singed jacket absent, and so Ramattra’s optics greedily seized the opportunity to pore over the little conundrum; sections of plated armor hugged his body tightly, their converging lines reminiscent of glossed over anatomy diagrams. As Genji moved, glided soundlessly over the hard floor in spite of crampons, the plates moved with him, caught in a remarkable dance of metal parts. They carried a spectacular sheen, a coating not of boring epoxy but of something else entirely.

Perhaps it was the fluorescent light distorting his sight or the pain in his face—Ramattra could not accurately explain why, but whatever the reason, a deep desire to pry surfaced, twitching the digits of his hand. Seeing Genji like this, in person, when he had only ever beheld him in the glow of a holograph or in the discord of battle, was decidedly surreal. 

Pestering questions bubbled. Of what, of who, of why. For Genji was as he recalled: Small, lithe, graceful. Interesting.

The magnets slammed the door closed. Ramattra squashed the questions with a vengeance, irritated they had overshadowed both opportunity and careful planning, and though the sarcastic sting of a greeting tugged at his synthesizer, he kept quiet and still—dignified. Ignored the way his position, legs folded, turned uncomfortable and bothersome.

“Athena told you requested for me.”

No formal greeting. Straight to the point. It saved Ramattra the expectation of decorum, though the insolence certainly grated on his nerves. He knew then, that keeping composure would prove a taxing ordeal. “Think nothing of it.”

Genji hummed an acknowledgement. “I won't.” Then he gestured at the limb hanging inertly by Ramattra's side, empathy sneaking into his aloof tone. “Ah... Winston didn't have time to repair your arm, did he?”

“No. Such cordiality was never extended to me.”

“I'm sure Winston would have explained the situation if he was given the chance. Our engineers would not have left you like this if they weren't needed on-field.” As he excused the actions of his superior, Genji rolled his shoulders, testing functionality. To chase away unpleasant memories before they could take hold, a detail which did not pass by Ramattra's keen eyes unnoticed, and not one to surprise; it was a silent language all omnics knew by heart. And it flared his temper.

“Don't take me for a naive halfwit, agent. I understand well enough; l am an asset, rife with information for the plucking. Keeping me damaged would make me desperate, wouldn't it? Cut to the chase. What are you after?” The floodgates had been opened and Ramattra's synth turned low, the rumble in his throat an angry tickle. He would not give an opening, inclined to keep one step ahead of Genji as he had Winston. “For me to recant my ways—perhaps beg and plead for my freedom?” He scoffed hearing his dramatization out loud, craning his neck to glare up at his captor. “My technology? The identity of sympathizers?”

To the tune of the vehement rambling, Genji folded his arms and leaned up against the door, waiting patiently for the tirade to end.

“You're not entirely wrong,” he revealed after a short lull of silence. To say his blunt sincerity baffled Ramattra would be an understatement. “As you said, you have information we need. Being coy will help neither of us. And if you have questions, I can try answering them in return. But I am truthful when I say we would have offered repairs.”

Whatever this tactic was, Ramattra could not claim he was aware of it. Since the end of his Shambali days and the humble beginnings of Null Sector, interrogations became a necessary element to extract information when word of mouth and scouting proved insufficient. Experience taught subterfuge as a critical tool of the trade, albeit paired with ample amounts of intimidation and threats. The same applied to the reverse, he could not count how many times such strategy saved him, as prisoner or otherwise. It was a simple truth; humans and omnics alike were slaves to self preservation.

First things first. Ramattra needed to wrest back control.

“I beg to differ.” He shuffled his legs, relieving the tension gathering in them. Bereft of discomfort, he straightened himself, kept his head high in prideful defiance. “If you answer my questions, I just might humor you, agent.”

Genji removed himself from his post, taking a small stride forward. High above his prisoner, posture defensive, visor boring steeply. More expectations to be squashed; he settled on the floor in a reflection of Ramattra's lotus position and the Ravager slowly cocked his head to the side. A clear signal.

“One for one.”

Genji would only budge an inch. Control would not be relinquished. 

A silence overcame the small room, burdened by the clashing stares. Both challenging, both unwavering. This close to death manifest, yet ruthlessly unbothered. Fearless. The casual nature of Genji's behavior betrayed the severity entailed by the impromptu meeting of captive and warden—no, of Null Sector leader and Overwatch agent. While indeed, damage left his right arm out of commission, Ramattra was nonetheless an R-7000. He commanded respect, instilled fear, and yet, in the ninja, searching for that telltale terror he evoked in others was a fool's errand.

Intimidation was useless.

How infuriating.

Brutality was not Ramattra's sole quality, but as Genji sat before him, his sheer stature was contemplated. Like a passerine bird; so small, so delicate, so easily crushed. It would be quick. A single motion to push him down onto his back and pin him. Apply force, feel the fragile shell crumple as brittle machinery shattered. Watch black sanguine seep from hair-thin fissures and stain the pristine, metal down.

He could demand freedom.

Not only.

He could teach him the true meaning of Ravager. Of fear.

Eased by decades old programming, dark imagination roamed freely, along with Ramattra’s eyes, trailing over his would-be victim. A detail caught his attention, pulled it down to Genji's left arm, and the pain in his faceplate flared hotly, snaked its way into his chest in emergent shame. Such instinct was unbecoming; this close, he could see scratches along the plating and he wondered if, perhaps, Genji too had suffered damage from their skirmish with Talon.

… And with Zenyatta. Reflexively, he touched his own arm, clapping onto the spot where his system had been overloaded with caustic energy. Before him, he saw it, the transparent recollection badgering into his consciousness, overlaying the defiant figure still awaiting a break in the mutual silence. Incapable of bearing witness to his brother harming him again, Ramattra halted the memory, dismissing it back into the recesses of his mind. In his error to forsake opportunity, another had presented itself, and he steeled himself for the impending conversation.

“How well did you know him?”

Genji perked up, melting his frigid, impassable aura.

“Zenyatta?” He asked, voice suggesting surprise, the haste of his response suggesting otherwise.

“Yes. Who else would I be speaking of? You two seemed..." Ramattra chose his next word carefully. "Acquainted.”

“‘Acquainted’ would be too mild. He is my Master. I studied under him at the Shambali monastery,” Genji trailed off, turning over his hands to consider the palms with interest. “His lessons helped me greatly.”

The silence was understood as a cue to elaborate. Genji shuffled in place, retrieving his phone from the pocket of his pants and Ramattra watched as he navigated the interface, accepting the device when it was held out for him. Framed in the confines of the small screen, Genji, snapping a self-portrait in the midst of a winter landscape, and standing peering over his shoulder was Zenyatta, one hand raised in greeting. Snow dusted them both, and with the monastery in the background, created a serene atmosphere.

“I spent the holidays with him during our time together,” Genji explained, scooting over to sit next to Ramattra, reaching over the Ravager to swipe to another photo. This one was inside the monastery, of Shambali monks caught up in holiday cheer, seamlessly weaving cultures together. All were clad in festively dyed regalia, busying themselves with placing gifts inside a sack held open by an eager Zenyatta. A pang of longing overcame Ramattra at the sight, the familial faces and architecture warm memories buried underneath the relentless cold of lonely ambition. “I believe it was the second year in a row the Shambali would bring gifts to the children. They chose Master to be the bearer that year and he was excited—even more than the children,” Genji reminisced, chuckling over the memory.

A desire to return surfaced with a vengeance, to a place and a time that only existed in part, clear and perfect in Ramattra's mind. A trio of warm, brotherly love, searching for their place in the universe. Too stubborn to think it might already have found them, only for it to fracture irreversibly. Cruel, was it then, to wish to shed tears when one could not. Emotions bundled his wires, coiled around his core until he swore he would choke.

“Yes. Zenyatta cared deeply for the humans of the village.” He wished he could say they cared for him, or even the Shambali, in turn. Truly, they had never deserved them.

“They are like family to him,” Genji agreed, swiping again to reveal another photo, once more taken outside in the snow. With his arms held out wide, Zenyatta emanated an air of frigid transcendence, fringed with humor rather than the serious nature oft associated with divinity. Granted, the great number of snowballs floating above him, as opposed to the orbs around his neck, contributed to such an impression. “I like these in particular. Master can be very mischievous.” Pictured throughout the following series of photos were the events of a snowball fight; children and adults alike, playfully engaging Zenyatta. It was plain to see the monk was unmatched, even as the numbers rose against him. “But foremost, he is thoughtful.”

The final photo was of a particularly snow-saturated Zenyatta, allowing the youngest of the village to pelt him with snow. Any wry delight Ramattra would have experienced, to see his brother practically mimicking a snowman—sans carrot nose—died with the knowledge of his current condition.

“He was always the most empathetic of us three, between he, Mondatta and I.” Genji was quiet when Ramattra handed him back his phone, but it was not immediately relinquished. Their gazes met, and with a single, generous sigh breathed without lungs, the tightness in Ramattra's chest unwound. “...And now none of us remain.”

Genji flinched. He looked down at the device in their hands, at the display flickering the frozen image of his mentor, and he wrung out a small, “I...”

“You may leave,” Ramattra added somberly, the timing of his response and subsequent surrender of the phone perfectly measured. Genji seemed to hesitate, overcome with a sudden restlessness, gaze meandering, as if what he was searching for would be found discarded on the floor of a prison. Eventually he relented, seceded in his forage after courage and gingerly picked himself up. With nary a word, he slipped out the way he entered—stopped, peered over his shoulder at the Ravager patently avoiding locking eyes, and the grip on his phone tightened. Just as he seemed decided, spun in place, the doors shut closed, leaving whatever had been on his mind unspoken.

As the magnets thrummed on once more, joining together the egress with an unbreakable bond, apertures narrowed, resolved.

[platinumcoatings]

How Expert Epoxy Floor Installers Ensure Long-Lasting, Flawless Results

Epoxy flooring has become one of the most popular choices for both residential and commercial spaces, thanks to its durability, aesthetic appeal, and low maintenance. But the true success of an epoxy floor depends heavily on the quality of its installation. Choosing experienced epoxy floor coating installers can mean the difference between a smooth, long-lasting finish and a surface that cracks, peels, or wears out prematurely. Here's how professional installers guarantee results that are not only visually impressive but also built to last.

Understanding the Science behind Epoxy Flooring

Before the first coat is even applied, expert installers understand the materials they’re working with. Epoxy is a two-part chemical compound—resin and hardener—that must be precisely mixed to initiate the curing process. The proper ratio and timing are critical. Too much hardener can make the floor brittle, while too little can leave it soft or prone to damage.

Professional epoxy floor coating installers are trained to manage this chemistry with precision, ensuring the mixture reacts correctly and forms a durable bond with the substrate. This foundational knowledge is essential to achieving a floor that lasts for years without fading, chipping, or delaminating.

Thorough Surface Preparation

One of the most critical steps in any epoxy floor project is surface preparation. Without it, even the best epoxy product will fail. Expert installers begin by assessing the condition of the concrete substrate, checking for cracks, oil stains, moisture issues, or existing coatings that could interfere with adhesion.

They then prepare the surface using industrial-grade tools such as shot blasters, grinders, or scarifiers. These tools not only clean the surface but also create a slightly rough texture that allows the epoxy to bond more effectively.

Amateur installers often skip or rush this step, which can lead to poor adhesion, bubbling, or premature peeling. A professionally prepared surface is the foundation for a flawless finish.

Moisture Testing and Mitigation

Moisture is one of the leading causes of epoxy floor failure. Expert installers never assume the concrete is dry; instead, they use proper moisture testing tools to detect vapor transmission or hidden dampness.

If high moisture is found, they may apply moisture mitigation primers or recommend solutions like installing a vapor barrier. These steps prevent issues like blistering, peeling, or a cloudy finish, all of which can result from trapped moisture under the coating.

Selecting the Right Epoxy System

There’s no one-size-fits-all when it comes to epoxy flooring. Different environments require different formulations. For example:

Metallic epoxy coatings are ideal for showrooms or upscale interiors.

Quartz-filled systems offer enhanced slip resistance and strength for industrial use.

UV-stable topcoats are essential for areas exposed to sunlight to prevent yellowing.

Experienced epoxy floor coating installers assess the specific needs of each space and recommend the best epoxy system. They factor in foot traffic, vehicle use, exposure to chemicals, and aesthetic preferences to deliver customized results.

Precision in Application

Application technique plays a massive role in the final appearance and durability of epoxy flooring. Expert installers have the experience to:

Mix components at the correct ratios

Apply coatings at precise thicknesses

Use techniques like squeegee, roller, or gauge rake for even coverage

Avoid issues like roller marks, bubbles, or uneven texture

Timing is also key. Each coat must be applied within a specific window before it begins to cure. Professionals monitor ambient temperature, humidity, and curing times to ensure a smooth, even finish.

Clean, Controlled Environment

Dust, insects, and debris are the enemies of a flawless epoxy finish. Professionals create a clean, controlled environment during installation—often using plastic sheeting, ventilation systems, and sealed entry points to minimize contamination.

This attention to detail ensures the surface cures without imperfections and maintains a glass-like or uniformly textured finish, depending on the client’s choice.

Long-Term Durability Through Quality Control

Experienced epoxy floor coating installers don’t just walk away after applying the final coat. They perform thorough inspections to ensure:

Proper adhesion and curing

Even color and texture

No bubbling, cracking, or missed spots

They may also apply additional topcoats or sealers based on use-case scenarios, further extending the floor’s lifespan. Clients often receive detailed care instructions or maintenance plans, which helps them preserve the floor’s performance and appearance for years to come.

Safety, Compliance, and Insurance

Working with a professional team ensures your flooring project meets all safety regulations and industry standards. Expert installers use non-toxic, VOC-compliant materials and ensure proper ventilation during installation.

Reputable companies are also licensed and insured, which gives property owners peace of mind. Any issues that arise during or after installation are typically covered by warranty or workmanship guarantees—something you won’t get with unlicensed or DIY work.

Final Thoughts

If you’re considering epoxy flooring for your home, garage, or commercial space, the installer you choose matters just as much as the product itself. By working with trained, experienced epoxy floor coating installers, you’re investing in results that not only look amazing but also stand up to years of use.

At The Platinum Coatings, we specialize in high-performance, customized epoxy solutions for clients in Cape Coral, Golden Gate, Immokalee, and beyond. Our team is committed to precision, quality, and customer satisfaction—every step of the way. Contact us today to learn how we can transform your floors with long-lasting, flawless results.

[allureconcretesolutions]

Epoxy Coatings: Durable, Stylish, and Long-Lasting Flooring Solutions

Discover the benefits of epoxy coatings for residential, commercial, and industrial floors. Learn about types, advantages, applications, and maintenance tips for epoxy floors.

What Are Epoxy Coatings?

Epoxy coatings are a high-performance flooring solution made from a combination of resin and hardener. When applied to concrete surfaces, they create a tough, glossy, and seamless finish that enhances both appearance and durability. Ideal for garages, warehouses, showrooms, kitchens, and more, epoxy coatings offer superior protection against wear and tear.

Benefits of Epoxy Coatings

1. Exceptional Durability

Epoxy coatings create a hard surface that can withstand heavy traffic, machinery, and chemicals—making them ideal for industrial and commercial settings.

2. Chemical & Stain Resistance

They are resistant to oil, gasoline, acids, and cleaning agents, which makes maintenance easy and hassle-free.

3. Aesthetic Appeal

Available in a variety of colors, textures, and finishes (e.g., metallic, flake, gloss, matte), epoxy coatings can transform a dull concrete floor into a vibrant, decorative surface.

4. Easy to Clean

Thanks to their seamless and non-porous nature, epoxy-coated floors are simple to clean with just a mop or mild detergent.

5. Slip-Resistant Options

Additives can be mixed in to provide anti-slip properties, ensuring safety in wet or high-traffic areas.

Common Applications of Epoxy Coatings

Residential Garages

Commercial Kitchens

Retail Stores

Warehouses

Medical Facilities

Automotive Shops

Airplane Hangars

Showrooms

Types of Epoxy Floor Coatings

1. Self-Leveling Epoxy

Ideal for new or old concrete floors, this type provides a smooth, level surface and is often used in kitchens and showrooms.

2. Epoxy Mortar

The most durable form, perfect for industrial use due to its ability to resist heavy impacts.

3. Quartz-Filled Epoxy

Combines epoxy resin with colored quartz grains, offering both durability and visual appeal.

4. Anti-Static Epoxy

Designed for environments where static electricity must be controlled, such as data centers and labs.

How Epoxy Coating Is Applied

Surface Preparation: Cleaning, grinding, and repairing concrete.

Primer Application: Ensures proper adhesion.

Epoxy Layering: Multiple coats applied depending on type and desired finish.

Curing Time: 24 to 72 hours for full cure and durability.

Maintenance Tips for Epoxy-Coated Floors

Sweep regularly to remove debris and grit.

Mop weekly using mild soap and water.

Avoid acidic cleaners that may dull the surface.

Reseal every few years to maintain shine and durability.

Epoxy Coatings vs. Other Flooring Options

Feature

Epoxy Coating

Tile

Polished Concrete

Durability

★★★★★

★★★☆☆

★★★★☆

Customization

★★★★★

★★★★☆

★★☆☆☆

Maintenance

★★★★★

★★★☆☆

★★★★☆

Installation Cost

★★★★☆

★★★★☆

★★★☆☆

Why Choose Professional Epoxy Flooring Services?

While DIY kits exist, hiring professionals ensures:

Proper surface prep

Even application

Long-lasting results

Custom design options

A poorly installed epoxy floor can lead to peeling, bubbling, or discoloration—problems that are easily avoided with expert help.

Final Thoughts

Epoxy coatings are one of the most versatile and durable flooring options available today. Whether you're upgrading a garage or renovating a commercial space, epoxy flooring delivers unmatched strength, style, and performance.

Ready to Transform Your Floors?

Contact [Your Company Name] for high-quality epoxy floor coating services. Get a free consultation and estimate today!

[southport-printing]

Epoxy Coatings: The Ultimate Solution for Durable and Stylish Surfaces

epoxy coatings

Epoxy coatings have become the go-to solution for residential, commercial, and industrial flooring. Known for their durability, sleek finish, and resistance to wear and chemicals, epoxy coatings offer a cost-effective way to enhance and protect a wide range of surfaces. Whether you’re renovating a garage, upgrading a warehouse, or looking to improve your office floors, epoxy is a versatile choice that delivers long-lasting results.

What Are Epoxy Coatings?

Epoxy coatings are a type of resinous flooring made by combining epoxide resin and a polyamine hardener. When mixed, these components chemically react to form a hard plastic surface that bonds exceptionally well to concrete and other surfaces. This coating provides a seamless, high-gloss finish that’s not only visually appealing but also highly functional.

Benefits of Epoxy Coatings

Durability Epoxy coatings create a tough, impact-resistant surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic, machinery, and frequent cleaning—perfect for high-use areas.

Chemical & Stain Resistance Ideal for garages, industrial settings, and laboratories, epoxy resists oil, grease, cleaners, and other harsh chemicals.

Low Maintenance The smooth, non-porous finish makes cleaning spills and debris quick and easy.

Customisation Choose from a variety of colours, finishes, and decorative flakes to match your brand or design vision.

Cost-Effective Compared to other flooring systems, epoxy coatings offer a great return on investment due to their longevity and minimal maintenance needs.

Common Applications

Garage Floors: Resistant to oil spills and hot tire pick-up.

Warehouses: Withstands forklift traffic and daily operations.

Retail & Offices: Offers a modern, clean aesthetic that enhances visual appeal.

Factories & Workshops: Resistant to chemical exposure and abrasion.

Hospitals & Labs: Meets hygiene and safety standards.

Why Choose Professional Epoxy Coating Services?

Applying epoxy coatings correctly requires surface preparation, proper mixing ratios, and curing times. Hiring experienced professionals ensures the coating adheres correctly, preventing bubbling, peeling, or early wear. A professional team will also help you choose the right epoxy type—100% solids, water-based, or solvent-based—based on your specific needs.

How Long Do Epoxy Coatings Last?

With proper installation and maintenance, epoxy coatings can last anywhere from 5 to 20 years, depending on usage and exposure to elements. High-traffic industrial environments may see slightly shorter lifespans, but periodic touch-ups can extend usability.

Conclusion

Epoxy coatings offer a smart, durable, and visually appealing flooring solution for almost any environment. From homes and showrooms to factories and medical labs, epoxy delivers unmatched performance with a sleek, professional finish.

If you're considering upgrading your flooring, trust a qualified epoxy coatings specialist to deliver outstanding results that last.

[xmateepoxy]

Transform Your Garage: Durable Flooring That Lasts Years

The Silent Transformation of Modern Garages In recent years, garages have evolved from dusty storage spaces into extensions of the home—showcasing style, functionality, and cleanliness. This transformation isn't just about aesthetics but also practicality. Whether it’s for parking, storage, or a personal workshop, a high-quality garage floor plays a key role in overall utility. One of the most reliable and appealing ways to upgrade a garage is with Garage Floor Epoxy, known for its strength, easy maintenance, and glossy appearance.

What Makes Garage Floor Epoxy a Smart Choice? Garage Floor Epoxy is more than just paint. It’s a thermosetting resin that is applied as a coating to concrete floors, offering a strong and durable finish. It bonds tightly to the concrete surface and forms a protective layer that is resistant to stains, impacts, and chemicals. Unlike standard paints or sealers, epoxy can withstand heavy vehicle traffic and is easy to clean with minimal effort. The glossy finish reflects light, brightening up the entire space without the need for additional fixtures. It's ideal for residential garages as well as commercial facilities where durability is critical.

Benefits That Go Beyond Appearance Aside from the visual upgrade, epoxy coating enhances the floor’s lifespan and reduces the chances of cracks and other damages. It is also slip-resistant when a textured surface is applied, making it safer to walk on, especially during wet weather. Furthermore, epoxy’s seamless surface means dust and debris have fewer places to settle, which improves air quality inside the garage. All these features make epoxy a practical and long-term investment for any property.

Choosing the Right Floor Coating Professional While DIY kits are available, professional application ensures durability and longevity. Proper surface preparation, mixing ratios, and curing times are essential steps that only experienced technicians consistently get right. A professional finish means the surface won’t peel or bubble prematurely, ensuring the coating remains in place for many years.

The Rise in Demand for Concrete Floor Coatings Near Me Increased awareness of garage floor solutions has led more homeowners and businesses to search for Concrete Floor Coatings Near Me. This growing demand is driven by the desire to upgrade old, cracked concrete into a space that is both functional and visually pleasing. Nearby coating services offer the convenience of local support and quick turnaround times. Local providers also understand regional climate conditions, ensuring the application is suited to local wear and tear. Searching for local experts can result in better pricing, ongoing maintenance support, and an overall smoother experience.

Conclusion: Upgrade That Adds Value and Style Modern flooring solutions are more than just surface-level improvements—they significantly boost the utility, appeal, and value of garage spaces. Whether it's the durability of Garage Floor Epoxy or the growing accessibility of Concrete Floor Coatings Near Me, today’s flooring technologies offer unmatched performance. For those seeking professional results with long-term benefits, trusted sources like xmateepoxy.com offer the tools, materials, and expertise necessary to get the job done right.

In conclusion, investing in premium flooring not only improves everyday functionality but also enhances property appeal. With the right solution and expert guidance, any concrete surface can be transformed into a strong, clean, and attractive area that stands the test of time.

[canadianfloorcoatings]

Waterproof Epoxy Flooring Services in Vancouver

In Vancouver, the most sought-after method of obtaining all these features is epoxy flooring. Specifically, waterproof epoxy flooring is fast emerging as a demanded option for commercial and residential use.

Advantages of Waterproof Epoxy Flooring Services in Vancouver

There are many reasons why waterproof epoxy flooring ranks high among priorities for homeowners and companies in Vancouver.

Easy Maintenance

Epoxy flooring is very low maintenance. The glossy, non-porous finish resists stains, grime, and dirt, allowing easy cleaning. Sweeping regularly and periodic mopping are all that's needed to make the floor look its best. For companies that need a clean and professional space, waterproof epoxy flooring is an economical, time-saving solution.

Aesthetic Appeal

Waterproof epoxy flooring is available in a wide range of colours and finishes so that property owners can create their floors to match their style. If you would like the gleaming appearance of a high-gloss finish to give your room a crisp, modern look or the drab appearance of a matte finish to achieve an industrial look, epoxy flooring can provide it. It can be tailored with patterns or even logos, making it an excellent option for commercial branding.

Slip Resistance

Slip-and-fall accidents are a risk where water exposure is present, such as in bathrooms or kitchens. Waterproof epoxy flooring can be applied with anti-slip additives that make it safer. This makes epoxy flooring an effective option for water-prone environments where water pools, reducing the risk of accidents and injuries.

Cost-Effective Solution

Epoxy flooring is generally less expensive than other waterproof options, such as vinyl or tiles. It is simple to install, and the material itself is not costly. Moreover, its durability means that it will last for several years without repair or replacement that requires a lot of money.

Why Choose Epoxy Flooring Services in Vancouver?

In Vancouver, waterproof epoxy flooring services have been on the rise. The climate of the city is marked by frequent rain and high humidity. Waterproof epoxy flooring presents the perfect solution to Vancouver's weather issues, with long-lasting protection and low maintenance.

You require professional flooring installation for epoxy flooring to ensure proper installation. Professional contractors are aware of the technicalities involved in applying epoxy coatings to ensure that the floor is durable and attractive. They will also help you choose the best type of epoxy for your residential or commercial building.

Employing professional epoxy floor services in Vancouver also guarantees the proper floor installation, minimizing the risk of future damage. Improper installation can lead to cracks, bubbles, or an uneven surface. Hiring professionals in Vancouver for waterproof epoxy floor services guarantees that your floors will be installed at the optimal level.

The Best Use of Waterproof Epoxy Flooring

Waterproof epoxy flooring is suitable for many residential and commercial uses. At home, it's usually installed in garages, kitchens, and basements, where there is frequent water exposure. At work, waterproof epoxy is used in warehouses, showrooms, hospitals, restaurants, and other areas requiring a heavy-duty, waterproofed floor. Its heavy usage and water damage resistance make it the perfect option for many environments.

Why Vancouver Property Owners Prefer Waterproof Epoxy Flooring

Many homeowners and entrepreneurs require waterproof flooring because of Vancouver's humid and rainy climate. Waterproof epoxy flooring offers a practical solution that avoids water damage. In addition to the protection mechanism, the aesthetics and maintenance ease further highlight its potentiality as an asset for owners willing to increase the functionality and aesthetics of their interiors.

Waterproof epoxy flooring is a wise, practical choice for anyone looking to enhance their Vancouver floors' resistance and beauty. With its long-lasting moisture protection, minimal maintenance, and highly adaptable design flexibility, epoxy flooring is the perfect solution for homes and companies.

If you're looking for high-quality waterproof epoxy flooring solutions in Vancouver, contact Canadian Floor Coatings Ltd. for professional installation and advice.

[vdfengineers]

Crack-Proof Epoxy: Strategies for Subfloor Movement & Lasting Floors

When you picture a fantastic epoxy floor, you probably imagine a sleek, shiny surface that transforms any room into a modern masterpiece. But behind that flawless shine lies a secret battle against one of the most subtle foes: subfloor movement. Think of it like trying to dance gracefully on a shifting floor—without the right moves and gear, even the best dancer can stumble. In this article, we’ll explore lively, engaging strategies to make your epoxy floor crack-proof, all while having a bit of fun along the way.

Understanding the Sway Beneath Your Feet

Our buildings aren’t static monuments; they’re more like living entities that breathe, settle, and shift over time. Whether it’s the gentle sway caused by temperature changes, moisture variations, or natural settling, your subfloor is in constant motion. Picture your subfloor as a wobbly hammock. If your epoxy coating is too rigid—like trying to waltz on that hammock—it will eventually snap or crack under the pressure. Recognizing this natural movement is the first step to creating an epoxy floor that can roll with the punches and remain consistently impressive.

Modern Epoxy: Flexibility Meets Durability

Thankfully, epoxy technology has evolved dramatically. Gone are the days of brittle coatings that break at the slightest provocation. Today’s epoxy formulations are designed with flexibility as a core feature. Manufacturers now blend flexible resins and clever additives into the mix, allowing the coating to stretch and move with the underlying subfloor. Imagine your epoxy floor as a well-choreographed dance partner, smoothly following every twist and turn of the floor’s natural rhythm without losing its shine or beauty. This flexibility is a key ingredient in achieving a long-lasting, crack-free surface.

The Magic of Crack Isolation Membranes

If flexible epoxy is like a dancing partner, crack isolation membranes are your shock absorbers, ready to cushion every move. These membranes serve as a buffer between the subfloor and the epoxy, absorbing the energy of any shifts and dispersing it across the surface. They cushion the impact, ensuring that even if your subfloor decides to put on an impromptu performance, the epoxy remains unscathed. Think of it as adding a layer of comfort and resilience to your floor—a bit like slipping on your favorite pair of sneakers before a long day of dancing. With these membranes in place, the risk of unsightly cracks is dramatically reduced.

Surface Preparation: The Ultimate Floor Spa

Even the most advanced, flexible epoxy coating won’t perform its magic on a sloppy, unprepared surface. Imagine trying to paint a beautiful portrait on a crumpled piece of paper—it just wouldn’t work! Surface preparation is like giving your floor a full spa treatment. It starts with a thorough cleaning to remove dust, grease, and any remnants of old coatings. This step ensures that nothing stands between the epoxy and the subfloor, allowing them to bond perfectly.

After a deep clean, repairing any cracks, holes, or inconsistencies is essential. Using high-quality fillers and patching compounds, experts create a smooth, even canvas that the epoxy can grip securely. Techniques such as mechanical grinding or shot blasting not only remove stubborn residues but also create just the right texture on the subfloor—one that promises a robust and lasting bond. Treating your floor well during preparation is like setting the stage for a blockbuster performance where every detail counts.

Timing and Environmental Considerations

Applying epoxy to a subfloor isn’t just about technique—it’s also about timing. Similar to letting a good piece of bread rise just right, the subfloor needs to be perfectly cured and dry before the epoxy is applied. Rushing the process can trap moisture beneath the new layer, leading to bubbles, delamination, or even more cracks down the road. Professionals routinely perform moisture tests to ensure that the environment is just right for epoxy application, taking into account factors like temperature fluctuations and humidity levels.

In essence, the installation should feel like an orchestral performance—all the elements perfectly in sync. A primer is often used early in the process to seal in the subfloor, ensuring that the epoxy adheres evenly and firmly. This extra step sets the foundation for a crack-proof finish, ensuring that your floor remains as resilient as it is beautiful.

Keep the Groove Alive with Routine Maintenance

Even after getting everything perfectly installed, maintaining your crack-proof epoxy floor is like keeping your muscles in shape after a long dance—it requires regular attention. Routine cleaning with non-abrasive, floor-friendly products helps to maintain both the gloss and sturdiness of the epoxy. Moreover, periodic inspections can detect those early, whisper-quiet signs of stress before they evolve into big, unsightly cracks. When you invest in a little preventive care, you’re keeping your floor in tip-top shape, ready to handle all the movement and lifestyle spills that come its way.

A well-maintained epoxy floor isn’t just a surface—it’s a long-lasting, vibrant space that continues to provide beauty and functionality for years to come. Upkeep might seem like a chore, but it’s really just about keeping your dance floor ready for the next big performance.

Final Thoughts

Creating a crack-proof epoxy floor is less about fighting the natural movement of your building and more about embracing it with smart design and smart strategies. With flexible epoxy formulations that dance along with your subfloor, the cushioning benefit of crack isolation membranes, meticulous surface preparation, and perfect timing during installation, your epoxy floor can stand strong and stylish against all odds. It’s all about setting up a stage where every component works in harmony, ensuring that your floor remains durable, smooth, and truly unforgettable.

For anyone ready to transform their space with an epoxy floor that laughs in the face of subfloor shifts and stands the test of time, professional expertise makes all the difference. You can also check Epoxy Flooring Contractors in Hyderabad for top-notch services that guarantee a crack-proof finish. With the right strategies, your epoxy floor will be more than just a surface—it will be a dynamic foundation of resilience and style, primed to host countless new memories.

Author: Sarath

[epoxy-flooring]

Emergency Epoxy Repair Services for Your Facility

Epoxy floors are built to last—but sometimes, they don’t. When something goes wrong and your floor starts cracking, peeling, or lifting, you need a fix fast. And not just any fix—you’re looking for a real emergency epoxy repair service that can show up, assess the damage, and get it under control before it spreads.

This post breaks down the most common epoxy floor problems, your repair options, and how to decide whether to patch it up or replace it altogether.

When Good Epoxy Floors Go Bad

You probably didn’t wake up thinking, “Today I’m going to deal with a cracked floor.” But here you are.

So what went wrong?

In most cases, epoxy floors fail because of one of the following:

Heavy use: Constant foot traffic, forklifts, rolling carts, or dragging heavy tools can all break the surface over time. Even garages with regular car use can develop stress points.

Moisture: This one’s sneaky. Water vapor coming up from under the slab can loosen the epoxy layer, causing bubbling, peeling, or full-on lifting.

Poor surface prep: If the original installer skipped proper etching, grinding, or cleaning, the epoxy never bonded right. That shortcut eventually shows.

Low-grade product: Some quick DIY kits or budget-friendly installs just don’t hold up long-term. Especially in high-traffic or commercial environments.

A crack or chip may seem small at first—but it rarely stays that way. Without attention, it leads to bigger safety problems and expensive repairs later.

Your Options: Repair or Replace?

Now comes the part that matters most—figuring out what to do next.

Let’s say your epoxy floor is showing signs of damage. What’s the smarter move: a quick fix or a full redo? Here’s how to weigh your options.

Spot Repair (When It’s Small)

If the damage is limited—a few chips, one lifted area, or a small crack—a targeted epoxy repair can save the day.

A technician will grind the area, remove loose or damaged epoxy, and apply a patch using a matching epoxy blend. When done right, the repair blends in well and holds up under regular use.

This is ideal for:

Light wear in a garage epoxy floor

Cracked corners near expansion joints

Small bubbles from moisture escape

And if you're working with a professional emergency epoxy repair service, most small repairs can be done in a few hours. You’ll likely be back to business by the next day.

Full Replacement (When It’s Bigger)

If half your floor is peeling, or you’ve got wide cracks that run across the surface, patching won’t cut it.

In that case, full replacement is smarter and more cost-effective in the long run. The damaged coating gets removed completely, the surface is re-prepped, and a new high-grade epoxy is installed.

This approach is better if:

There’s extensive bubbling or discoloration

Multiple patches are needed in different areas

The original coating is already years past its prime

Yes, it takes more time. But you’ll get better durability, a cleaner look, and fewer repair headaches later.

DIY vs. Pro Help: What Actually Works?

Some people try to fix epoxy problems with store-bought kits. You’ve probably seen them—epoxy crack fillers, repair kits, or fast-cure patch systems. And for minor cosmetic issues in low-use areas, they can work.

But if we’re talking about commercial space floors, garage epoxy damage, or any surface with heavy loads and daily wear—don’t risk it.

Pros use industrial-grade products, grinding tools, and moisture meters. They know how to fix the underlying issue, not just slap a patch on top.

And here’s a key difference: A DIY patch might last a few months. A professional repair, if prepped correctly, can last for years.

Timing, Cost, and What to Expect

Let’s break down what you’re really wondering: how long it takes, how much it costs, and how soon you can walk or drive on it again.

Time

Emergency repairs are often done in under a day.

You’ll typically need to stay off the floor for 12–24 hours after application.

Full replacement takes longer—2 to 3 days including cure time.

Cost

Spot repairs usually range from $200 to $600.

Partial resurfacing might run $800 to $1,500 depending on square footage.

Full replacements in commercial or large garage spaces could cost more—but they deliver longer-lasting results.

Durability

Professional patch repairs can last 5–10 years.

Full epoxy floor replacements, when prepped and sealed correctly, can hold up for 15 years or more under normal conditions.

Need a Fast Fix? Let’s Get It Done Right

Epoxy damage doesn’t fix itself. It gets worse with time, especially in high-use spaces. A cracked floor can lead to slips, injuries, or even code violations in commercial settings.

Don’t wait until the whole surface fails.

If you’ve noticed lifting, peeling, bubbling, or cracks, get in touch with a local emergency epoxy repair service. A quick on-site inspection will tell you if you need a fast patch or a full reset.

We’re here to fix the damage fast—so you can get back to work, worry-free.

[happyrenovators]

 Shower Leak Repairs in Perth

Shower leaks can be one of the most frustrating plumbing issues for homeowners. From stained walls to rising water bills, the damage can escalate quickly if not addressed. That’s why Shower Leak Repairs Perth has become a critical service for many households in the area. Whether you’re in the city or the suburbs, reliable leak repair is a necessity to maintain the value and safety of your home.

Understanding the Cause of Shower Leaks

A leaking shower may seem like a minor issue at first, but the cause often lies beneath the surface. Faulty waterproofing, worn-out grout, cracked tiles, or damaged plumbing lines can all contribute to shower leaks. Over time, this moisture seeps into walls and flooring, leading to mould growth, structural damage, and expensive renovations. If you’re in Perth and notice wet patches, persistent odours, or rising damp around your bathroom, it’s time to seek help from experts in Shower Leak Repairs Perth.

Why Timely Repairs Are Important

Ignoring a leaking shower can lead to serious long-term consequences. Moisture trapped behind tiles or under the floor can weaken the structural integrity of your home. Wooden framing, plaster, and insulation can all be damaged. With the humid conditions inside bathrooms, mould can spread quickly and pose health risks to your family. Engaging professionals for Shower Leak Repairs Perth early can prevent these issues, save money, and provide peace of mind.

How Professionals Handle Shower Leak Repairs

When you hire a specialist in Shower Leak Repairs Perth, the process begins with a thorough inspection. This often includes moisture readings, pressure testing, and checking the seals and grout lines. Once the source of the leak is identified, repair work begins without necessarily removing tiles. Advanced techniques like regrouting, sealing membranes, and epoxy injections help stop leaks effectively. In severe cases, a full bathroom renovation may be recommended, but most leaks are repairable without major disruption.

The Benefits of Using Local Experts in Perth

Choosing a local expert for Shower Leak Repairs Perth means faster response times, knowledge of local plumbing standards, and a reputation built on trust within the community. Local professionals understand the common challenges Perth homes face due to weather conditions and building materials. They also know how to source high-quality waterproofing materials suited to the region’s climate.

Signs You Should Not Ignore

It’s important to act fast if you notice signs of a leaking shower. If your bathroom tiles are loose, if you detect a musty smell, or if there’s visible water damage in adjacent rooms, your shower may be leaking. Discoloured or bubbling paint, or damp carpet in nearby rooms, also point to hidden leaks. These are clear signals to call in a team for Shower Leak Repairs Perth before the issue worsens.

Why Choose Us for Shower Leak Repairs in Perth

We pride ourselves on offering fast, affordable, and long-lasting Shower Leak Repairs Perth. Our skilled technicians use advanced tools and techniques to fix leaks without removing tiles wherever possible. We understand the importance of punctuality, cleanliness, and workmanship. Every job is backed by a guarantee, giving you confidence in the results. Whether it’s a minor repair or a complete overhaul, we treat every bathroom as if it were our own.

Our Service Areas in and Around Perth

We provide expert Shower Leak Repairs in Perth services across all suburbs including Joondalup, Cannington, Morley, Fremantle, Midland, Rockingham, and Mandurah. Whether you’re in a new home or an older property, we tailor our services to suit your needs. We also offer emergency repairs for urgent situations where leaks are threatening other areas of the home.

Don’t Delay — Contact Us Today

Water damage doesn’t wait, and neither should you. If you suspect a leak in your shower, our local team is ready to help. We offer prompt inspections, no-obligation quotes, and competitive rates. Protect your property and your family’s health by acting quickly.

Contact us today to schedule your expert Shower Leak Repairs in Perth.

[allureconcretesolutions]

Epoxy Coatings: The Ultimate Solution for Durable and Stylish Surfaces

Epoxy coatings are a popular choice for homeowners, businesses, and industrial facilities looking for a durable, long-lasting, and visually appealing surface solution. Whether you need to protect a garage floor, warehouse, commercial kitchen, or even a showroom, epoxy coatings offer unmatched performance and style.

In this article, we’ll explore what epoxy coatings are, their key benefits, applications, and how to choose the right solution for your space.

What Are Epoxy Coatings?

Epoxy coatings are a type of resin-based surface finish made by mixing epoxide resin and a polyamine hardener. When combined, these components chemically react to create a hard, durable, and adhesive layer that bonds strongly to concrete, metal, and other materials.

Key Characteristics of Epoxy Coatings:

High-gloss finish

Chemical resistance

Impact and abrasion resistance

Easy maintenance

Water and stain resistance

Benefits of Epoxy Coatings

1. Exceptional Durability

Epoxy creates a hard surface that resists wear and tear from heavy traffic, machinery, and impact, making it ideal for both residential and commercial use.

2. Chemical and Stain Resistance

From oil spills in garages to harsh cleaning agents in hospitals, epoxy coatings protect surfaces from corrosive substances and stains.

3. Easy to Clean

Thanks to their smooth, seamless finish, epoxy-coated surfaces can be easily cleaned with minimal effort—no need for harsh chemicals or deep scrubbing.

4. Visually Appealing

Available in a wide range of colours, textures, and finishes (including metallic, flake, and quartz), epoxy coatings can enhance the aesthetic of any space.

5. Slip Resistance

Anti-slip additives can be integrated into epoxy coatings to improve safety in wet or high-traffic areas.

6. Long-Term Cost Savings

Although the upfront investment may be higher than traditional floor finishes, epoxy coatings last significantly longer—saving you money on repairs and replacements.

Common Applications for Epoxy Coatings

Epoxy coatings are used across a wide range of environments:

Garages & Workshops: Durable and chemical-resistant, ideal for vehicle traffic and tool-heavy areas.

Warehouses & Factories: Withstand forklift traffic and chemical spills.

Commercial Kitchens: Non-slip and easy to clean, promoting hygiene and safety.

Retail Spaces & Showrooms: Custom finishes and colours that reflect your brand.

Hospitals & Laboratories: Seamless, sterile surfaces that resist bacterial growth.

Residential Interiors: Polished epoxy floors add modern style to living spaces and basements.

How to Choose the Right Epoxy Coating

When selecting an epoxy coating, consider the following:

Type of Epoxy: Options include solvent-based, water-based, and 100% solids epoxy.

Traffic Levels: Choose a high-build or industrial-grade coating for high-traffic or commercial areas.

Slip Resistance: Add textured finishes or anti-slip aggregates for safety.

Design & Finish: Opt for metallic or flake finishes for a decorative look.

Environment: Use UV-stable epoxy for outdoor applications to prevent yellowing.

Professional vs. DIY Epoxy Coating

While DIY kits are available, professional epoxy flooring contractors ensure a higher-quality finish, proper surface preparation, and long-lasting performance. Hiring an expert also reduces the risk of bubbling, uneven surfaces, and peeling.

Conclusion: Is Epoxy Coating Right for You?

Epoxy coatings offer a durable, attractive, and cost-effective solution for a variety of residential, commercial, and industrial surfaces. With countless design options and unbeatable performance, epoxy coatings are a smart investment in the longevity and appearance of your floors.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Is epoxy flooring waterproof?

Yes, epoxy coatings are water-resistant and protect your floor from spills and moisture damage.

How long do epoxy coatings last?

With proper installation and care, epoxy floors can last 10–20 years, even in high-traffic areas.

Can epoxy be applied over existing floors?

In most cases, yes—especially over concrete. However, proper surface preparation is crucial for adhesion.

Are epoxy floors slippery?

Epoxy floors can be slippery when wet, but anti-slip additives can be included during application for added safety.

Need professional epoxy flooring installation? Contact our experts today for a free quote and transform your space with durable, stylish epoxy coatings.

[vdfengineers]

The Importance of Proper Surface Preparation for Epoxy Flooring

Introduction

When it comes to epoxy flooring, the secret to a long-lasting, high-performance finish lies in surface preparation. Many homeowners and businesses focus on the strength and beauty of epoxy coatings, but without proper prep work, the best epoxy can fail. Think of it like building a house—without a solid foundation, everything else crumbles!

If you want to achieve a durable, smooth, and professional-looking epoxy floor, understanding surface preparation is key. Let’s dive into why it matters and how to do it right.

Why Surface Preparation is Essential for Epoxy Flooring

Epoxy flooring is one of the most durable and versatile flooring solutions, but its success depends on proper preparation. Skipping this step can result in peeling, bubbling, or premature wear. Here's why surface preparation should never be ignored:

Improved Adhesion – A properly prepared surface allows epoxy to bond firmly, ensuring a long-lasting floor.

Enhanced Durability – Floors that undergo thorough preparation last years longer, reducing the need for repairs.

Smooth, Flawless Finish – Cracks, grease, and dust can ruin the epoxy’s final look. Proper prep prevents imperfections.

Prevents Future Issues – Avoid peeling, blistering, and weak bonding by investing time in preparation.

The Key Steps for Surface Preparation

If you want an epoxy floor that stands the test of time, follow these essential steps before application:

1. Thorough Cleaning

Before applying epoxy, the floor must be completely free of dust, oil, and debris. Any contaminants can prevent proper bonding. Professional epoxy installers use high-powered vacuums, degreasers, and chemical cleaners to ensure a spotless surface.

2. Fixing Cracks and Imperfections

Epoxy does not work as a magic filler! Cracks, holes, or uneven patches should be repaired using high-quality concrete patching compounds. This guarantees a smooth finish and prevents structural weaknesses.

3. Surface Profiling (Grinding or Shot Blasting)

Epoxy flooring requires a slightly rough surface to adhere properly. Two methods—mechanical grinding and shot blasting—are commonly used to prepare the concrete.

Grinding removes surface contaminants and opens up the concrete’s pores for better adhesion.

Shot blasting creates texture by shooting steel beads at the floor, ensuring a stronger bond with the epoxy.

4. Moisture Testing

Moisture is the biggest enemy of epoxy adhesion! Trapped moisture can cause blisters, peeling, and discoloration over time. Professionals conduct moisture tests to make sure the concrete is completely dry before application.

5. Applying a Primer

An epoxy primer enhances adhesion and prevents air bubbles from forming. Think of it as a bonding layer that allows the epoxy to grip onto the concrete more effectively.

Consequences of Skipping Surface Preparation

Ignoring surface preparation can lead to disastrous results. Here’s what happens when preparation is neglected:

Peeling & Delamination – The epoxy won’t stick properly, causing it to lift off over time.

Bubbling & Weak Spots – Trapped moisture and dirt create bubbles and uneven finishes.

Shortened Lifespan – Poor adhesion means faster wear and costly repairs.

Final Thoughts

Proper surface preparation is the foundation of a strong, durable, and visually appealing epoxy floor. Investing time in cleaning, repairing, profiling, and priming ensures that the epoxy bonds securely and lasts for years.

For best results, trust professional epoxy flooring contractors to handle preparation and installation. You can also check Epoxy Flooring Contractors in Hyderabad for expert services that ensure a flawless epoxy finish!

Author: Sarath

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​​Epoxy Flooring: The Ultimate Guide to Durable and Stylish Floors

Epoxy flooring has become a top choice for homeowners, commercial spaces, and industrial facilities alike — and for good reason. Known for its durability, aesthetic appeal, and low maintenance, epoxy floors offer a long-lasting solution that combines style with substance.

In this comprehensive guide, we’ll cover everything you need to know about epoxy flooring, including its benefits, applications, installation process, and maintenance tips.

What is Epoxy Flooring?

Epoxy flooring is a surface coating system made from epoxy resin and hardeners. When mixed together, they form a strong plastic-like material that bonds tightly to concrete surfaces. The result is a glossy, seamless floor that resists stains, cracks, chemicals, and heavy traffic.

Common Types of Epoxy Flooring:

Self-leveling epoxy – Ideal for commercial and residential floors for a smooth, professional finish.

Quartz-filled epoxy – A blend of epoxy resin and colored quartz grains for decorative appeal and slip resistance.

Epoxy flake floors – Chips of vinyl are added to the mix for texture, color, and improved traction.

Anti-static epoxy – Perfect for environments with sensitive electronic equipment, such as data centers or labs.

Top Benefits of Epoxy Flooring

Durability: Epoxy floors can withstand heavy loads, abrasions, and impact, making them ideal for garages, warehouses, and factories.

Chemical Resistance: They resist oil, gasoline, cleaners, and other chemicals—perfect for industrial or automotive settings.

Low Maintenance: Easy to clean with just a mop and mild detergent. No need for waxing or polishing.

Aesthetic Versatility: Available in a wide range of colors, textures, and finishes, including metallic and high-gloss.

Cost-Effective: Compared to tile or hardwood, epoxy flooring is relatively affordable considering its longevity.

Improved Safety: Slip-resistant additives can be incorporated to improve traction and reduce workplace accidents.

Best Applications for Epoxy Flooring

Residential: Garages, basements, kitchens, and even living rooms for a modern, industrial look.

Commercial: Retail spaces, showrooms, salons, and restaurants due to its sleek finish and durability.

Industrial: Factories, warehouses, airplane hangars, and clean rooms benefit from epoxy’s chemical and impact resistance.

Epoxy Flooring Installation: What to Expect

Installing epoxy flooring involves several steps:

Surface Preparation: Grinding, cleaning, or shot-blasting the concrete to remove contaminants and ensure adhesion.

Primer Application: A base coat that penetrates the concrete and improves bonding.

Epoxy Coating: One or more layers of epoxy are poured or rolled onto the surface.

Top Coat (Optional): A UV-resistant or slip-resistant layer may be applied for added protection and aesthetics.

Curing Time: Most epoxy floors need 24–72 hours to fully cure before they can be used.

🔧 Tip: Always hire a professional for installation unless you’re experienced with flooring systems. Proper preparation is critical to prevent peeling or bubbling.

How to Maintain Epoxy Flooring

Sweep or dust mop regularly to remove debris.

Use a soft mop and gentle cleaners to avoid dulling the finish.

Avoid harsh abrasives or acidic cleaners.

Repair chips or cracks quickly to prevent moisture intrusion.

Is Epoxy Flooring Right for You?

If you're looking for a flooring solution that’s stylish, strong, and easy to maintain, epoxy flooring could be the perfect fit. Whether you're upgrading your garage or designing a commercial space, epoxy offers unmatched performance and design flexibility.

FAQs

Q: How long does epoxy flooring last? A: With proper care, epoxy floors can last 10–20 years or more, especially in residential settings.

Q: Can epoxy be applied over old concrete? A: Yes, but the surface must be thoroughly cleaned and repaired before application.

Q: Is epoxy flooring slippery? A: It can be, especially when wet, but anti-slip additives can be included for safety.

Final Thoughts

Epoxy flooring is an investment in durability, style, and functionality. Whether you're a homeowner, business owner, or facility manager, this versatile flooring option can meet your needs and exceed your expectations.

Looking for professional epoxy flooring installation or a free estimate? Contact a certified contractor near you and transform your space today!