#Curtain and upholstery cleaning service
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Couch Cleaner offers professional lounge chair cleaning in Auckland, including pre-spray, steam, and fabric cleaning. Trust our experienced specialists for affordable and fast sofa cleaning services in Auckland. Elevate your outdoor living experience with Couch Cleaner's top-tier outdoor furniture cleaning services across Auckland.
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adipolicleaners · 2 months ago
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Haha, Here is the answer for you! We are the leading best cleaning services in Queensland! Come hurry up and book your online appointments now!
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diamondsteamcleaning · 13 days ago
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Cleaning Services Melbourne | 0426 105 106
Diamond Steam Cleaning understands that every home is unique, so we provide a personalised treatment plan for every clean. We are Steam Cleaning Specialists, and our commitment is to provide exceptional service at reasonable prices. Please call us on 0426 105 106 to see how we can help.
Find our most popular packages below: https://www.diamondsteamcleaning.com.au/
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plushcleaningza · 4 months ago
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Upholstery Cleaning in Pretoria: Plush Cleaning’s Expertise
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When it comes to maintaining the beauty and longevity of your furniture, professional upholstery cleaning is essential. In Pretoria, one name stands out for exceptional service and impeccable results: Plush Cleaning. Our specialized approach to upholstery cleaning ensures that your furniture looks its best, providing a fresh, clean, and healthy environment for you and your family.
The Importance of Upholstery Cleaning Upholstery cleaning goes beyond simple aesthetics. Over time, dirt, dust, allergens, and even bacteria accumulate within the fibers of your furniture. Regular cleaning not only enhances the appearance of your upholstery but also contributes to a healthier indoor environment. Especially in a bustling city like Pretoria, where dust and pollutants can easily make their way into homes, maintaining clean upholstery is vital for the well-being of your household.
Why Choose Plush Cleaning? Plush Cleaning has established itself as a leading provider of upholstery cleaning services in Pretoria. Our team is equipped with advanced tools and eco-friendly cleaning solutions that effectively remove dirt and stains without causing damage to your furniture. Here are some reasons why you should consider Plush Cleaning for your upholstery cleaning needs:
Expertise and Experience: With years of experience in the industry, our technicians are skilled in handling various types of upholstery fabrics. Whether it’s delicate silk, sturdy leather, or everyday synthetic blends, we have the expertise to clean them all.
Advanced Cleaning Techniques: We employ state-of-the-art cleaning techniques that are both effective and gentle. Our hot water extraction method, also known as steam cleaning, is particularly effective in removing deep-seated dirt and allergens, ensuring a thorough clean.
Eco-Friendly Solutions: At Plush Cleaning, we prioritize the health of our clients and the environment. Our cleaning solutions are non-toxic and biodegradable, making them safe for children, pets, and allergy sufferers.
Customer-Centric Approach: We believe in delivering personalized services tailored to meet the unique needs of each client. From the initial consultation to the final inspection, our focus is on ensuring complete customer satisfaction.
Our Upholstery Cleaning Process At Plush Cleaning, we follow a meticulous cleaning process designed to deliver optimal results. Here’s what you can expect when you choose our services:
Inspection and Assessment: Our process begins with a thorough inspection of your furniture. We assess the type of fabric, the level of soiling, and any specific areas that need special attention.
Pre-Treatment: Based on our assessment, we apply a pre-treatment solution to loosen dirt and stains. This step is crucial for breaking down tough stains and preparing the upholstery for deep cleaning.
Deep Cleaning: Using our advanced hot water extraction equipment, we deep clean the upholstery. This method injects hot water and cleaning solution into the fabric and then extracts it along with dirt, allergens, and bacteria, leaving your furniture clean and refreshed.
Spot Treatment: For any remaining stubborn stains, we use specialized spot treatments. Our technicians are trained to identify and treat different types of stains effectively.
Deodorizing and Sanitizing: To ensure your furniture not only looks clean but also smells fresh, we offer deodorizing and sanitizing services. This step helps eliminate any lingering odors and ensures a hygienic finish.
Final Inspection: We conduct a final inspection to ensure that every part of your upholstery has been thoroughly cleaned and meets our high standards of quality.
Benefits of Professional Upholstery Cleaning Opting for professional upholstery cleaning with Plush Cleaning comes with numerous benefits:
Enhanced Appearance: Regular professional cleaning keeps your furniture looking new and vibrant, preserving the original color and texture of the fabric.
Extended Lifespan: By removing dirt and debris that can cause wear and tear, professional cleaning helps extend the lifespan of your upholstery.
Improved Indoor Air Quality: Clean upholstery contributes to better indoor air quality by reducing allergens and pollutants trapped in the fabric.
Healthier Environment: Removing bacteria and allergens from your furniture helps create a healthier living environment, especially for individuals with allergies or respiratory conditions.
Upholstery Cleaning Tips for Homeowners While professional cleaning is essential, there are steps you can take to maintain your upholstery between professional cleanings:
Regular Vacuuming: Vacuum your upholstery regularly to remove surface dust and prevent it from settling deep into the fabric.
Immediate Stain Treatment: Address spills and stains promptly to prevent them from setting. Use a clean cloth to blot (not rub) the stain and follow the manufacturer’s cleaning recommendations.
Avoid Sunlight Exposure: Prolonged exposure to direct sunlight can cause fading and damage to your upholstery. Use curtains or blinds to protect your furniture from UV rays.
Conclusion In Pretoria, Plush Cleaning is your trusted partner for top-notch upholstery cleaning services. Our commitment to quality, combined with our expertise and customer-centric approach, ensures that your furniture receives the best care possible. By choosing Plush Cleaning, you are investing in the longevity and beauty of your upholstery, as well as the health and well-being of your household. Contact us today to schedule your professional upholstery cleaning and experience the Plush Cleaning difference.
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carpetcleaningecopower · 7 months ago
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Mastering Drapery Maintenance: Professional Insights for Immaculate Curtains
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Sophisticated draperies can elevate the ambiance of any space, yet they often attract dust, allergens, and various stains. From accidental coffee spills to marks left by greasy fingers, maintaining the elegance of your curtains demands expertise and diligence. This guide delivers professional insights into drapery cleaning, aimed at preserving the flawless appearance of your window dressings from the outset.
https://ecopowersteamcarpetcleaning.com/drapery-cleaning/
Routine Care Practices
Initiating an effective drapery cleaning regime begins with consistent care. Employing an upholstery brush attachment to vacuum your draperies on a weekly basis can drastically minimize dust build-up. For more delicate fabrics, a light shake may suffice to free the dust without the necessity of vacuuming.
Fabric Type Consideration
Prioritizing stain removal entails a thorough understanding of your drapery's material. It's imperative to consult the care label for tailored drapery cleaning directions. Depending on the fabric, some curtains may require professional dry cleaning, whereas others are suitable for careful machine or hand washing.
Prompt Spill Management
In the event of a spill, swift action is essential to avert lasting stains. Lightly blotting the affected area with a clean, absorbent cloth is advisable—vigorous rubbing might further ingrain the stain. For stains soluble in water, applying a diluted detergent solution gently to the spot, followed by dabbing with a moist cloth to eliminate soap traces, is recommended.
Addressing Oil-Based Marks
Oil-based blemishes, including grease or cosmetic stains, demand a distinct approach. Lightly tap the stain with a clean cloth dampened with a bit of dry cleaning solution, working inward to deter spreading. Conduct a preliminary test of the solvent on a less visible section to verify its safety for the fabric's color.
Identifying When Expertise is Needed
In cases of extensively soiled, fragile, or costly draperies, seeking professional drapery cleaning services is wise. Specialists possess the means to eradicate stubborn stains, such as those from wine or ink, employing fabric-appropriate techniques and cleaning agents.
Advantages of Expert Cleaning Services
Professional drapery cleaning not only assures thorough stain removal but also can prolong the lifespan of your curtains, restoring their original splendor without jeopardizing the fabric. Moreover, many professional services conveniently offer to pick up and deliver, simplifying the process.
Ensuring your draperies remain pristine is key to both the visual and healthful quality of your living space. Adhering to these professional drapery cleaning recommendations and recognizing when to involve experts allows you to maintain your curtains in an impeccable state, contributing to the overall beauty and ambiance of your home.
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furryunknowntree · 1 year ago
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Carpet Cleaning in Long Island
Discover the best carpet cleaning services near you. Find professional providers to refresh your carpets today With over 20 years of experience, we’re the best in the business. Trust us for expert, eco-friendly cleaning that revitalizes your carpets and enhances your home.
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markkelvin89 · 1 year ago
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cleaningclaphamuk · 1 year ago
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There Are A Number Of Factors You Should Consider When Choosing A Sofa Cleaning Service Here Is A List Of These Factors
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We, as homeowners, have an obligation to keep our sofas clean and free of dust and dirt, which can accumulate over time on our sofas as they age. When cleaning a sofa, it can be time-consuming, and the results might not be satisfactory if it is not done properly, if you do not pay attention. It is at this point that professional sofa cleaning services can come to the rescue. It is important for you to consider the following factors when you are picking the right sofa cleaning company.
Reputation and experience are important factors in your career
There are a number of factors to consider when choosing a sofa upholstery and rug cleaning service, such as their experience and reputation. As long as a professional cleaning service has years of experience in the cleaning business, they will possess the skills, knowledge, and equipment required to effectively clean any furniture. It is a good idea to check online reviews and ratings or speak with friends and family if they have any recommendations so that you ensure you choose a reputable company.
An overview of the services we offer
Also, the range of services that a sofa cleaning company offers should be taken into account in order to choose the right service. Choose a sofa cleaning service that offers a broad range of services to meet all of your sofa cleaning needs in one place.
The following are certifications and licenses we hold
If you want to hire a sofa cleaning service in your area, ensure that they have all the necessary certifications and licenses required to operate in that area. The fact that they have met the standards and are legitimate business shows that they are a legitimate company and are capable of providing quality services.
Flexibility and availability are key aspects of the service
It is important to consider the availability as well as the flexibility of the sofa cleaning service. You should choose a service that can work within your schedule and is available when you need it.
Price list
Also, make sure that you consider the pricing of the sofa cleaning service before making a decision. It is tempting for you to go for the cheapest option, but make sure that you are receiving the best value for your money by choosing the cheapest option. Make sure that the service you choose provides the best quality services at a reasonable price.
There are several factors to consider when choosing the right velvet upholstery cleaning service, but if you follow these tips, you can make an informed choice. You should make sure that the service you hire is reputable, experienced, and licensed, and offers a wide range of services at a reasonable price, is available and flexible enough to work with your schedule, and will make sure that your needs are met. If you do this, your sofa will thank you for it.
Revitalise Your Sofas with Clapham Junction Dry Cleaning & Garment Care DROPLET's Professional Cleaning Services
Don't let accumulated dust, stains, and dirt compromise the aesthetics and hygienic quality of the most dynamic piece of furniture in your home. For exceptional sofa cleaning services in the United Kingdom, rely on Clapham Junction Dry Cleaning & Garment Care DROPLET - your go-to destination for exceptional dry cleaning service. It is our team's expertise and cutting-edge equipment that guarantee a thorough, safe, and fast cleaning process that will maintain the integrity and comfortable feel of your beloved sofas for years to come.
Our competitive prices and flexible scheduling options can be taken advantage of by contacting us today on 0208 109 9132 or emailing us at [email protected] within the next 24 hours.
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melbournecleanmastersau · 2 years ago
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The Best Mattress steam cleaning services are provided by Melbourne Clean Masters. They have mattress-cleaning experts in the fields of mattress dry cleaning, mattress steam cleaning, foam mattress cleaning, mattress sanitization services and, mattress deodorization services. Call us (0422151318) to get our professional carpet cleaning experts right to your doorstep.
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dwcleaning · 2 years ago
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DW Cleaning Group Singapore
Address : 1090 Lower Delta Road #03-07K, Singapore 169201
Phone : +65 6797 8787
Website : https://dwcleaning.com
Description : DW Cleaning Group Singapore offers you a one-stop solution for your cleaning needs in Singapore. Our professional and reliable services include aircon cleaning, mattress cleaning, mattress deep cleaning, mattress steam cleaning, mattress vacuuming, as well as mattress stain removal. In addition, we also provide sofa cleaning, upholstery cleaning, couch cleaning, carpet cleaning, rug cleaning, and curtain steam cleaning. Our team of experienced cleaning specialists will ensure that the cleaning services will be done professionally. Check out our articles to have a wider view of our services and cleaning hacks. Do not hesitate to call us or contact us via Whatsapp at +65 8241 0032 to solve your cleaning needs!
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khuzena · 17 days ago
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Fable
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Pairing: Sunday x gn!reader
cw: themes of religion, emotional turmoil, mental health struggles, sin and redemption.
Synopsis: In a world engulfed with sin, Sunday feels as if there's no difference between him and the lowly sinners he preaches to. A stark irony in his thoughts and the cross that lay heavy on his chest, a preacher of Aeon Xipe, yet a damned fool that longs for a sinner. He offers redemption as if it's cheap since it only asks faith as its payment. However, the sinner he longs for has no ounce of faith in their soul. In the end, he could only sing praises— if only attaining salvation was so easy.
A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK (no one remembers me) but I'm here to deliver angst anyways bc fuck this shit. My writing is shitty so bear with me. :(((
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“Repent, sinner.” Sunday whispered as he held your hand, “Repent.”
"Sunday— let go” you drawled, voice dripping with shame. You leaned against the wall, the smoke from your cigarette curling lazily through the dim air, mingling with the stale scent of cheap perfume and old upholstery. The brothel was alive with murmured laughter and low music, the worn-out couches and faded curtains casting long shadows in the flickering amber light. Your skin was drenched in sweat, your head riddled in shame as your clothes lay bare on the floor. You've just finished servicing a client yet Sunday's invaded unknown territory; to save you, maybe.
The priest’s eyes swept the room, narrowing as if each detail confirmed his worst suspicions. His mouth twisted in a thin line of disgust as he clutched his Bible close to his chest, as if bracing himself against the "unclean" aura around him. The expression in his eyes was soft, painful—a thousand sermons held back by a single withering look.
“Please,” he said, voice clipped. “You know this isn't the answer— it's never too late.”
“Just go,” you replied, frowning without your usual certain devil-may-care charm. You let sin consume you, as it's all you've ever known. “But you’re right, Father. It's never too late for others but I'm a lost cause.”
You trail off, the musky aroma of carnal desire in the room intoxicating his ‘pure’ soul, “You're gonna save me? With what, exactly? A sermon? A confession?”
“Redemption.” He said the word as if it could wash the room clean. “Even someone like you—someone who parades their sin as if it’s a crown—you could still be saved. Even now.”
You laughed, the sound echoing off the peeling walls, more haunting than humorous. “Saved? By what, exactly? A few Hail Marys and a scolding?” You looked him up and down, that faint amusement never leaving your eyes. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs saving. Ever thought of that?”
Sunday's face darkened, his fingers tracing the edge of his Bible like it was a weapon rather than a shield. “You speak of kindness, yet you live without a shred of humility or grace. Do you really think there’s peace in… in this?” He gestured around the room, lips curling in contempt. “All I see is emptiness masquerading as freedom.”
Your eyes narrowed, your smile fading. “Freedom?” You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching it drift to the floor like grey snowflakes. “Tell me, Father, when was the last time you felt free?” You crawled to him as he sat on the stained sheets, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath, the faint scent of smoke and cheap perfume mixing with the cold edge of his cologne. “You clutch that Bible like it’s a cage, not a comfort. You come here, looking down on us from your self-righteous mountain, but you’re the one running. From what, exactly?”
He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if you’d struck a nerve. “I serve the Lord,” he said, voice quivering with a mixture of conviction and something darker, something unsettled. “I bring light to places that have forgotten it. I offer hope to the lost.”
You smirked, unbothered. “Hope, is it? Funny, you seem more scared than hopeful. You think that because I don’t kneel and grovel that I must be empty, but I don’t need your god to tell me right from wrong. I may be a ‘sinner’ in your eyes, but I don’t preach peace and then threaten damnation. I help the lost here, too, in my own way—without the guilt. And without shame.”
For a moment, his composure slipped, a crack appearing in the stone-cold mask he wore. He looked at you—really looked at you—as if seeing past the lipstick and the smoke to something rawer, something he couldn’t name.
“Kindness without repentance is hollow,” he muttered, almost to himself, fingers ghosting over the cross around his neck. His eyes betray his actions, he can't admit that he loves a sinner like you.
“And blind faith without understanding is cruelty,” you shot back, your voice like a knife through the heavy air. “You think kindness is something you hand down from on high, something earned by prayers and purity. But look around, Father. These people don’t need sermons. They need food, a place to sleep—a little mercy, not lectures.”
He opened his mouth, as if to counter, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, his face twisted, half pity, half frustration. “I’ll… pray for you.”
A dry laugh escapes you, a hollow sound in the oppressive quiet. “Pray for yourself, Father. You’re the one who seems lost here.”
“I just want to save you,” He reiterates, his eyes gleaming with desperation, “Please, just repent. There's always a place for you in the church”
An airy scoff escapes your lips as you smack his hand away, “A place for me? A place for a sin laden person like me?”
A pregnant silence filled the room, he clutched the cross on his neck. There must be an answer, and if there isn't, he'll make you one. His free hand reaches into his pocket, you feel a beaded bracelet rest onto your wrist. It's heavy, so heavy.
“What are you doing to me?”
“I just want to save you,” his hands trembled in sync with the flickering candle light, “Just listen to me.”
“Stop, stop—” no matter how many times you plead him to stop acting so pathetic, he implores mercy for you. The sacred bracelet on your wrist is a testament to his love and his faith— one you could never share.
Sunday vowed himself to never step into the walls of pleasure as they're the home to lust, they're home to fools who seek salvation in sex. Yet, he's here. He's here to seek salvation for you. He brought Xipe’s presence into the home of the devil, in hopes to coerce you to the brighter side.
His presence in this brothel feels like an enigma, he doesn't belong here.
“I don't want you to rot in hell,” he trails off, kissing your knuckles, “I’ve never felt this before— Xipe owns my body, my soul.”
Why does his touch feel so addicting compared to the touches of far fairer men than him?
His wings droop onto his shoulders, your clothes on the floor reflecting on his shiny halo but he doesn't budge. He doesn't want to leave you here, he knows your heart is kind, yet your body's defiled— he’s determined that he'll cleanse you, he'll cleanse you of this sin.
He presses his lips again to your knuckles, “Why do you have to be so difficult?” He mutters to himself as his sacred tears paint your tainted skin.
Xipe may own every fibre of his being, but you've taken his very soul, you've stolen it with every scornful laugh, every unrepentant sin. THEY have save you, THEY need to save you—
However, when he stares back into the abyss in your eyes, he knows you're long forsaken by their blessings.
When you don't recite the verses escaping his lips, he realises you're a lost cause.
Please, Xipe. Please do something about them—
If that's not enough, he's brought jar filled with ash.
“That's enough Sunday—”
“It's not.”
His words sunk low as he turned more desperate than a man faced with death. For you to die and rot in hell is death in itself.
You should run away, you should push him away.
You should throw him back to the cathedral he preaches in.
But a part of you wants saving.
A part of you long to be in the same world he is, in body and soul and in every prayer recited.
But you can’t.
With trembling hands, Sunday brought his fingers to the jar of ash he'd clutched as if it held the very essence of Xipe himself. His touch was reverent, fingers dipping into the blackened dust as he leaned forward, his face a mask of fevered determination. His breath was ragged, each exhale brushing against your skin like a ghost's touch, hovering close as he traced the symbol of harmony on your forehead.
The ash was cold and heavy against your skin, spreading like a dark stain over the sweat still clinging to you from moments before. Sunday’s fingers shook as he sketched each line, each curve, his brows furrowing as if with each stroke he could carve Xipe’s mercy into your very soul. His lips moved soundlessly, chanting prayers, pleading with his god to see you—to reach you. His eyes glistened, holding a desperation so raw it felt as though he were laying his soul bare with every brush of his fingers.
"Please," he whispered, voice breaking as he drew the final stroke, his forehead pressed against yours, the rough ash between you a stark reminder of the worlds that kept you apart. "Please, let this save you." His eyes searched yours, wild with a hope he couldn’t contain, pleading with a faith that was beginning to crumble as he realized that even this sacred act, this final attempt to offer you salvation, might still leave you beyond his reach.
You're still a sinner through and through.
Sunday’s fingers lingered, almost frozen against your skin as he stared at the dark symbol he’d left, the weight of it so heavy it felt like it would pull you both under. His breaths came uneven, shallow, as he fought against the reality sinking in—that his desperate plea might not reach you, that this sacred symbol he’d etched might be nothing more than a stain.
His hand drifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the faint smudge of ash, as though hoping to rub it deeper, to make it part of you in some way that went beyond flesh and bone. His eyes were wet, glistening with the weight of unspoken prayers, with the terror of a man standing on the brink of faith and despair.
“I love you— I want you.”
“Then want me.”
‘Want me without fear’ - what you should've said.
He shakes his head, swallowing. “I can’t. To want you… to touch you? I’d lose everything.” Each word is a knife, cutting through the heavy air between you.
“Then why are you here?” you murmur, your voice laced with disbelief, the irony palpable in the dim light. A saint in sacred clothing before a madonna whore.
“Because you’re worth saving.” His eyes are fierce, but they tremble.
You laugh bitterly. “Even if I don’t want it?”
“It’s not just for you!” His grip tightens around your hands, desperation bleeding into his voice. “I need to believe… that you can be saved, that I can—” He falters, his eyes darkening. “What if I’m here because I’m as damned as you?”
“Then maybe you should let go of salvation.”
His wings flutter as sobs wreck his soul. Why can't THEY save you too? Why does he have to live with the idea that you'll rot— that he can't do anything about it?
And as he kneels before you, his lips brushing over your knuckles in a final, desperate kiss, he prays—more for himself than for you.
"I’ve seen hell, and it’s not the one you think," you murmur, voice low, yet biting. "It’s in the way you look at me—like I’m nothing but a sin."
A flash of pain crosses his face, mingling with the flicker of understanding that never quite settles. Anxiety tightens his grip on your hand as he absorbs your words, though he’ll never truly understand them. He opens his mouth, but only silence falls—a prayer unsaid, a salvation he’s not even sure he can give.
His gaze drops, lingering on the thin sheet covering you like a veil over desecration, and he looks away, ashamed yet bound.
He leans in, lips hovering just above yours—a kiss he tells himself is selfless.
“I'll pray for you."
I'll forgive you.
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Note: BYE BER MONTHS HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK— I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED PROGRESS OF MY WIP FICS AND I WAS IN TEARS AND JS CRASHED OUT. IM BACK BC GIGI PEREZ JS MADE ME WRIT EGAIAN
special mention: @whyiseveryname-taken bro I'm still ariting abt that angst jing yuan fic btw if u still remember 😈
Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 
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vickyvicarious · 6 months ago
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There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old, though in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but there they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is there a mirror.
These fabrics being in really good shape has an interesting implication about the castle layout. Like, it's obvious that there are Jonathan-approved spaces which are cleaned up and nice, unlike the majority of the building which is in ruins.
But despite Dracula's own bedroom (treasure room, really) being dusty and dirty, along with the chapel area where all the vampires actually sleep, the upholstery being in good condition implies ongoing care. He couldn't undo fraying and moth-eaten holes so easily. And it's not just his library, it's his guest room too.
This doesn't change much necessarily, though it takes away the humorous 'he spent the last three weeks doing a deep clean' joke a bit. But I think it adds an extra layer of creepiness, when you consider that he has been taking excellent care of a guest room and assorted areas for probably a long time now, even while allowing the rest of the castle to crumble in disrepair and gather dust.
It's very... welcoming spiderweb. A trap that has perhaps been sprung several times before. Perhaps only the plan to leave himself this time is new.
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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago
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Operation Apollo | 2.5 | Jake Seresin x reader
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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.
Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents
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Five year olds rarely understand politics. The weaving webs of deceit — all for the greater good — it quite simply doesn’t match up to the daily right from wrong lessons that they’re receiving. It never made sense to you back then. But, five year olds also rarely understand chess, and yet, you did.
Sitting in your father’s study whilst he was still governor of that teeny tiny state, in that small seeming house that you barely remember these days, brows furrowed and lips pursed as he asked you if you understood the move you had just made.
Being quick to adapt was always one of your strong suits. Your daddy hadn’t wanted to play dress up and tea parties like the other girls’. So, you had learned to play chess. In tow, you had learned to understand politics. Each move had a consequence and so, had to be carefully thought out, just like in chess.
You sit now, in a different office, feeling very much just as small, and think of the three moves in which you have ruined Jake’s life. Truthfully, when you had kissed him for that first time on the couch a few months ago, you hadn’t been thinking of where it would land him. You had thought about it before that, toying with the idea of having him do something to get him fired.
But, when it had come down to it, all that you’d really wanted was for him to be around all of the time. He had been so kind to you that night, and you had wanted that feeling to last forever.
That had been the first move, it hadn’t been definite — there was still room for recovery back then. With the other two, it’s more difficult to distinguish. Had the option for redemption disappeared when you had come crawling into his bed that first night in Texas, or had it still been there until you had let him tell you that he loved you?
Either way, it’s long gone now.
Worst of all, the last thing you had told Jake was that you hated him.
He stands six feet to your right now, and there’s not a single thing that you could do or say that could fix the things that you’ve done to each other. Your father, sitting suited and powerful behind that big desk, is going to make sure of that.
Sitting here, yourself and Allen on the couch. Your mother, opposite with the press secretary to her right and your father’s lawyer, Owen, on her left. When he had called this meeting, demanding everyone to be dressed and prepared, you had known that your time with Jake was over.
Now, the second of his careers is in tatters and this time, there’s no coming back from it. There’s no amount of time that can heal the damage that you’ve done to Jake’s life, your father can make sure of that. The leading candidate is a friend of your father’s from law school — his power is going to extend far beyond the expiry date on his title as president.
Brushed velvet, freshly cleaned but not for this occasion, navy blue under your fingertips. Baited breath, shoulders tense, colours faded, you pick at the upholstery to keep from crying.
“You have to think of the family right now, Princess,” He’s still reclined back in that chair, those white walls and heavy gold curtains behind his head. It looks fantastic in pictures, the white, gold and blue of the office, that’s why he had picked it. “This isn’t the kind of publicity we want on our names as we leave office.”
Mid-morning — such a strange time for the end to occur. It doesn’t seem right. You’re far from done fighting.
“The only mark on our name right now is that six people died at an event in your honor less than two weeks ago.” You bite. Standing at the back, his arms folded in front of his waist, a muscle in Jake’s jaw ticks. He wants to butt in and tell you to just stop talking, but he can’t. Speaking is just going to make things worse.
“I know you aren’t stupid, so do us all a favour and stop acting like you are,” Your father’s voice hardens, growing more stern as he leans forwards, hands clasped together. It’s all very formal. The security, the suits, the tone. “You know what a scandal like this can do. You’ll ruin your life before you’ve even had an opportunity to live it.”
Jake’s teeth press into his tongue until his mouth is all copper-tasting and numb. It’s interesting. Maybe if he had gone to college, he’d know the word for it — the talent that your father has for passing on the blame. It’s your life at the risk, it’s your fault. Jake can’t help but wonder what exactly it is that does manage to fall under the scope of your father’s personal responsibility.
More recently, it’s been feeling like that has kind of already happened. The question has always been at the back of your mind. How anyone expects you to move on from this, to live a normal life after everything you’ve been through. Back in highschool, you’d joked about one day sharing your memoirs. How terrifyingly suffocating it had been to grow up in the shadow of the White House.
“I will not let you throw away every opportunity that I’ve given you.” The ‘for him’ isn’t a necessary addition; Jake isn’t good enough, he’s not the right kind and he never would have been. He went to Naval Academy right out of highschool and has only set foot on an Ivy League campus once in his life. Even in the right circumstances, your parents never would have accepted him.
Your mother shakes her head, picking anxiously at her nails from the couch opposite you. Her glare has been searing through you since she had sit down. That jagged, red, puffy scar peeking out from under her sweater. Her crutches at the side of the couch.
“I can’t believe that you could even be this selfish,” She speaks up finally. You know that she has been wanting to for a while. Briefly, you glance to your right and you meet Jake’s gaze. Then, you look back to her. “You’ve completely disregarded everything that this family stands for, you’ve made fools of your father and I — and for what? — Was this to punish us for something? — Have we truly been such awful parents?”
Biting your tongue, you just stare back at her. It’s hard to decide which would be more childish: to fold your arms over your chest and outright refuse to answer, or to finally scream like you’ve been wanting to. Your arms cross calmly, you inhale and keep her gaze.
Jake turns his attention towards the floor. Allen looks across at the younger agent, taking his time to study him. In all of his years with you, he knew that something like this would happen eventually. The way you used to taunt those poor sons of bitches until they broke and quit or got reassigned. Not one of them had ever given into your teasing, but Allen knew that it was going to happen.
He hadn’t, however, ever thought that he would feel bad for the guy who fell for it. In his heart, he feels that Jake isn’t a bad guy. Different time, different circumstances, maybe things could have been different between the two of you. It’s a little late for that kind of wishful thinking now, that decisions already been made. It’s why Allen got called down here at the ass-crack of dawn to sit in on this meeting.
Jake’s out. Everyone in this room knows it already.
“Jake goes back to his home, you go back to yours and start grad school as we had planned,” It’s clearly not a suggestion, and it’s a better offer than Manny had been expecting. Your father’s gaze hardens as he looks towards Jake, “You’ll both sign a non-disclosure agreement, we’ll forget that this little indiscretion ever happened.”
“No.”
Jake swallows, curling his hands into fists and uncurling them again, willing you to just stop talking— just this once. His heart throbs at the sadness in your voice. He’s glad, now, that you let him fall asleep still holding you last night.
“I’m not signing anything, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Your other option is that we pursue criminal charges.” Owen speaks up finally. A weedy little redhead that your father has known for decades. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and straightens out his suit. He looks across at Jake, who doesn’t seem too bothered by that.
Manny slowly inhales, his fingertips brushing the cotton of his pants as he braces himself for what comes next. No one else seems quite as prepared for it as the three men who know you the best.
“Were you dropped on your head as a child or something?” Voice raised, nostrils flared, taking a step forwards like you’re just about ready to vault over that nice little coffee table separating you from the lawyer. “Criminal charges? — For what?”
Allen reaches out and rests his hand against your knee, like it will do something to keep you tethered down to that blue, velvet couch.
Owen’s mouth curls up, an amused snarl as he leans forwards and reaches into his expensive, embossed book bag and pulls a manual from it. It lands unceremoniously on the coffee table before you, spinning so that the words are facing you. Professionalism within the workforce handbook. Homeland Security Fiscal Year 2021 to Congress.
“I think it might be beneficial for you to familiarize yourself with this book, Miss.” He sneers.
Jake has been saying since he arrived that Allen’s too slow to still be in the service. All of his suspicions are confirmed as you lurch forwards, fingers curling around the book before Allen has even clocked the way that your expression has changed. Jake closes his eyes, exhaling slowly as the book sends Owen’s fragile, wire frames clattering to the floor.
“Fuck you.” All of those years of training, all of those expensive schools — everything that your mother has done to turn you into a well-mannered young lady, shattering faster than those cheap lenses in those wire-framed glasses. Jake’s lips quirk at the corners, just slightly, as he looks past you to study your father. There’s a look of almost confusion on his face. He doesn’t recognize you.
Four different people call you by your name at once. Your parents, Allen, and then Jake. An argument could be made that it’s the difference in Jake’s tone that makes you look to him first. Everyone else is shocked, appalled by your behavior. Jake’s uncharacteristically calm in a way that makes your heart throb.
Short hair, clean-shaven, every freckle and frown line painfully familiar. He’s standing close enough that you could reach him in a few small steps. Jake gives you a soft nod, a barely-there ghost of a smile.
“It’s alright.”
“Don’t you dare—“ Your mother’s on her feet in an instant, rounding towards him with her eyes wide.
Jake still hasn’t moved an inch from where he had been told to stand at the beginning of this whole circus. He’s calm as he looks towards your mother. Calmer than he thought he would be in the event of this happening.
“You won’t press charges,” You look towards your father. He quirks a brow at you. “If you want to keep this quiet, you won’t press charges.”
“Either we keep this civil, and you sign the agreement — or you’ll leave me with no other choice.”
There’s a moment’s pause. Briefly, Jake thinks you’re about to find another projectile to launch across the room. Matthew interjects before you get a chance to make this worse.
“We’ll give you two a moment to discuss.” Matthew decides. You don’t dare to look away from him, your glare burning into him as he clears the room for you.
Jake waits until all the doors are shut before he moves, turning you silently to face him and wrapping his arms tightly around your middle.
“I can — I’ll fix this,” You mumble into his shoulder, fingers curling into the jacket of his suit. Jake squeezes you closer to him. “You can’t leave.”
“A few more months and then this is all over,” Jake whispers, breathing in your smell, pressing his lips softly to your neck. “You’re out, I’m out. Just a few months, and we’ll figure something out.”
A quick shake of your head and you tug yourself closer to him. “Please don’t leave me here.”
“Look at me,” His palms hug your cheeks, keeping your attention on him. His eyes look especially green when he wears black. “You’re going to listen to Manny, and you’re going to be good for a couple of months, and then we’ll figure this whole mess out. Alright?”
“No,” You breathe out, voice trembling. “Fuck, this is all your fault.”
“My fault?”
It’s difficult. Knowing that this moment is fleeting, not wanting to spend it arguing, but just reeling with this anger that makes you want to rip down those heavy, gold curtains and set them on fucking fire.
You’re still holding on to Jake, hands curled around his shoulders, vice-like. He presses his lips once, gently, to your temple, then closes his eyes.
“If you hadn’t lied to me, if you hadn’t just listened to that fucking asshole then we wouldn’t be in this mess!”
“I know, I know,” Jake whispers, squeezing you tighter against him, resting his chin against the top of your head. His palm smooths along your spine. “We’re going to sign the NDA, you’re going to go back to school. I’ll figure something out — once you’re out of office, I’ll come back.”
“I can’t go back to that house if you’re not there,” You mumble into his shoulder, hot and cold at the same time, on the verge of tearing up or screaming your lungs out at the end of every syllable. “What if something happens again?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Jake doesn’t know that for sure. He doesn’t know how this began, or how it’ll end. He knows that the safest place for you is by his side. He lies to you anyway. “You just listen to everything Manny says and you’ll be fine.”
Swallowing, the only thing that your brain can conjure is his name. Lips trembling, you give a small shake of your head, “Jake…”
“I love you, and I’ll see you in a little bit, alright?” Jake squeezes at your biceps, trying to meet your gaze until finally you give in and look at him. Your throat squeezes in protest, trying to bring forth another sob. You can’t keep crying. It’s all you’ve done for days. “Just promise me that you aren’t going to do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
The silence that follows makes Jake sigh. He knots his brows together sternly. “Promise me.”
“I don’t want you to go.” You say quietly.
“I don’t want to either, but it’s going to take the heat off of both of us — I’m not leaving here if you’re going to put yourself in danger to get back at your father.” Jake frowns at you.
“I promise.” You mutter finally.
“Alright,” Jake nods slowly, smoothing his hands along your arms. He takes his time in looking you over before he finally cups your jaw and tilts your head back. “I love you.”
You’re still furious. With him, with them, with this whole fucking situation. Most of all, with your powerlessness to it. But, you love Jake. You press your face into his chest and murmur it begrudgingly.
Jake glances towards the door and knows that you’re probably being listened to. His hand curls gently around the nape of your neck as he tugs you back from his chest and presses his lips to yours. He can still taste the salt on your lips from this morning’s tears.
He has half of a story about how this morning had played out — snippets of details that Manny had been able to give him. It was going to happen sooner or later. You still won’t sleep, you’re restless and agitated — you don’t trust anyone around you. He wishes that he didn’t have to leave now.
Reluctant to let you go, Jake squeezes your hand softly and walks over to the closed file on the desk with his name on it. He nudges it open with his index finger, lips quirking immediately at what’s before him.
It’s a screencap of a security tape. From a few months ago, when you’d gotten shitfaced and he had thrown you over his shoulder to take you to your room. Followed by a picture of him leaving your room hours later, the time stamps circled. On the next page, there’s a screencap from a security tape again. This time it’s from your house. The balcony between your room and his. Jake sitting on his chair, you sitting with your foot on the seat between his legs and a big grin on your face — just slightly, your underwear is visible between your parted legs.
Admittedly, Jake’s pleased that this is as scandalous as it gets. The mustn’t have dug too deep — he knows that they could have found much more if they had.
Swiftly, he turns back to you and wraps his arms loosely around your hips. “I’m not sorry for us. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Promise me.” You squeak out, throat dry and tight.
“I promise.” Jake confirms, pressing his lips to your temple once more, then nudging your jaw back so that he can kiss your lips. Confirming his suspicions that they had been being listened to, the door opens. He takes his time in withdrawing from you, letting the security see that he had been holding you.
It’s tough. Biting your tongue as Jake’s given an already drawn up agreement and a pen, as he signs away these past few months. He leaves first, heading back to collect his things with two details tailing him. You won’t see him again before he leaves, they’ll make sure of that.
Then, your parents, Owen, the other staff — they watch intently as you’re given your own agreement and the same pen. You lean forwards and study the page, taking your time to go through every word. You’ve signed these before. Hell, some of the parties you had been to with other politicians’ kids had these to sign at the door before you were allowed entry. This is different.
You’ve never felt the urge to break every clause on the page before in the same way that you do today. Scrawling your signature on the dotted line, it feels like you’re just about signing away the right to say his name. To think of his smile.
Glancing up briefly, the ink isn’t even dry, and there’s something on your father’s face that makes your gut tense up. He changes his face immediately, gracing you with something that resembles sympathy.
It lingers on your mind, that expression, as you turn to study the relief on your mother’s face. For her, this problem is solved — you’ll stay away from Jake, you’ll be with someone that she likes instead. For your father, it’s something evidently different. Equally pleasing.
Once the ink has dried, you’re certain now more than ever. His reason for hiring Jake, one person, rather than expanding your team from the beginning — calling you to and from D.C. like a lapdog — the secrecy and arms’ length relationship. Not only did he know about the danger you were in, he knew from the beginning that these plots were more than just displeased voters.
He sits back in his seat as you squint your eyes at him from across the room. Jake’s gone, in a couple of weeks, he’ll take the hit as a mole — this will all blow over. Maybe if your father had spent a little more time playing tea parties with you instead of chess, he’d have a better insight into the way your mind really works.
The room empties slowly, people filtering out — security staff sticking to you like glue. You don’t mind their presence one bit. Shoes tapping delicately across those hardwood floors, you lean forwards and rest your palms on the desk.
Matthew raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.
Lowering your voice to an almost whisper, loud enough for it to remain undoubtedly sincere, you speak finally. His own eyes, down to the very flecks of lighter colour, staring right back at him. Playing his very own game of bullshit. “I know what you did. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”
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busybeeslaundry · 2 years ago
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markkelvin89 · 1 year ago
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cleansepro · 1 year ago
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