#polished leather upholstery. the like.

[caracello]

dukie is so fucking cute i need to see her car. i think she has a bunch, but her favorite is probably some sports car with fuzzy dice on the rearview.

[darkshelbyfiction]

The Nanny Diaries (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Innocent Reader

Warning: Dark Cillian has an innocence kink...Smut...Infidelity...Dub Con

It had been three months since you started working for Cillian and Lorna Murphy, looking after their two young children Sienna and Mitch.

You had recently turned eighteen and left your small town in America, eager to see the world beyond your front door so, moving to Dublin, was the perfect opportunity for you.

Through a family friend, who was an actor as well, you were given the chance to work as an Au Pair for the famous Irish actor who, with his wife and children, lived in a beautiful country estate just outside Dublin city, surrounded by vast gardens filled with flowers and trees.

Their home was like a sanctuary where nature merged seamlessly into luxury - wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with original works of art and large bay windows which looked out onto acres of greenery.

Their children were absolutely adorable.

Little Sienna was full of energy, running all over the place, whilst little Mitch would be curled up watching cartoons quietly. At first, it seemed strange, but gradually you found yourself enjoying every moment spent playing games, reading bedtime stories and preparing meals for them.

The only person whose company made you feel slightly nervous, however, was Cillian himself. You felt a strange and somewhat forbidden attraction towards this 45 year old man, something no one could quite understand considering how close he was to your father’s age.

However, being strictly catholic and engaged to young man back home, you brushed this off as simply being star struck and though Cillian wasn't exactly flirtatious, there was something undeniably captivating about him.

Cillian soon noticed the way you looked at him, the subtle flush of excitement that crossed your face when he walked into the room, and despite his own marriage status, he began making excuses to get closer to you. His constant praise made you blush, while the lingering glances gave you butterflies in your stomach.

One evening after Lorna had gone to bed, Cillian invited you to listen to some music with him in the dimly lit living room.

There was a comforting familiarity in the scent of leather, polished wood and roaring embers in the fireplace as you sat down beside him on the plump sofa. For some reason, your heart skipped a beat as you sank deeper into the soft upholstery and Cillian silently handed you a glass of wine and smiled.  

"You did well today. Thanks for looking after them so diligently," Cillian acknowledged just as you traced the contours of his strong jaw line with your eyes.

"They are good kids. Despite, looking after them, is my job," you stammered in response. You couldn't help feeling nervous around this man, even more now since it was just the two of you.

"Still, it's nice not having to worry. So, thank you," Cillian said while leaning back into the couch, crossing one leg over another. "It can be quite draining sometimes looking after them."

"It can be," you smiled while your cheeks reddened as you tried not to stare at him openly. For a moment silence enveloped the space before you continued speaking softly, barely audible enough for him to hear properly.

"So you like Portishead, huh?" you asked, changing the topic to music as their album "Glorybox" was playing in the background. His face shifted to curiosity briefly, then turned serious again as he reached out slowly to brush his hand over your knee. 

"I do. How about you? he asked, turning his head towards you.  "Do you like their music?" he then asked and you felt a mix of fear and excitement surging through your body upon the sudden contact - your heart raced faster, and a warmth seemed to rise up inside you as his fingers caressed gently along your thigh. Trying hard to maintain composure, you responded casually yet uneasily.

"I do," you managed to utter softly as his fingers traced higher along your inner thigh. As his hand lingered there uninvited, your breath quickened involuntarily – a mixture of panic and arousal coursing through your veins. It wasn't right, what he was doing, but still, deep within you, a primal urge took hold.

"How is your boyfriend? Are things good between you?" Cillian prodded, leaning closer as he spoke. You could feel his breath tickling your ear as he whispered these words, sending chills down your spine despite yourself. Your hands trembled lightly, unsure whether to push him away or surrender to his advances, caught somewhere between terror and thrilling anticipation.

"He...uhm...yes... he is good," you stammered as his fingers dipped deeper beneath your skirt, brushing against your underwear teasingly, causing a wave of heat to ripple throughout your core.

Aware of the danger you were in, a part of you wanted to resist, while another desperately desired to succumb to his touch, craving the sensuality he offered with such intensity. 

"Do you miss him?" Cillian asked quietly, almost tenderly while his fingers ran circles over your moistening panties.

Unable to think clearly due to the intensity of his advances, you struggled to find your voice. Involuntarily, your mouth hung open, dazed by the sensations that flowed through your body.

"I do miss him, yes," you finally murmured, unable to meet his eyes, as you fought to quell the desire rising up inside you. This was wrong, terribly wrong, but why did it feel so right?

"Do you miss him touching you like this?" Cillian asked huskily as, finally, he pushed aside the wet fabric of your knickers, allowing his finger to slide tantalisingly over your wet slit.

"He never..." you mumbled hesitantly, trying to regain control of both your mind and body, struggling to ignore the growing sense of guilt mixed with exhilaration that consumed you. 

"He never what?" Cillian challenged, his tone darkening as his finger continued to explore the sensitive folds between your legs. One of his fingers began to push its way inside you, penetrating your tight entrance gently yet firmly, eliciting gasps and whimpers from you as pleasure ricocheted through your body. 

"He never touched me down there before," you admitted reluctantly, knowing it wouldn't matter anyway because you knew deep down that this went far beyond mere physical exploration.

"Really?" Cillian queried with disbelief, pulling his fingers free from your quivering passage before pushing it in again, harder this time, his thumb pressing rhythmically against your clitoris. You let out a strangled cry, lost in the throes of ecstasy as your entire body writhed in pleasure.

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" Cillian questioned deeply, his tone laced with raw passion, drawing a sharp intake of air from you. You didn't answer immediately, too absorbed in the exquisite sensations consuming your body. But eventually, the truth emerged haltingly from your lips.

"No. It's not allowed," you confessed seeing that you were strictly catholic, ashamed of admitting the fact aloud, wishing to sink into the floor beneath you.

"Do you want me to stop?" Cillian asked softly, lifting his hand away from your drenched crotch to rest it once more on the armrest of the couch. Your mind reeled as the erotic spell broke, leaving you feeling bewildered and confused.

Despite the intensity of the encounter, you shook your head defiantly, determined not to allow yourself to be further enticed.

"Alright. Can you take off your panties for me then?" Cillian commanded authoritatively, breaking the momentary awkwardness. His eyes bore into yours, demanding obedience. Reluctantly, you nodded, sliding your skirt lower until your knickers slipped off easily, exposing your naked thighs and pussy. The bold act sent shockwaves through your system, filling you with a potent cocktail of shame and arousal. Cillian observed you hungrily, appreciating the sight of your supple curves and smooth skin.

With determination in his eyes, he reached for your exposed thighs, rubbing his palms alluringly up and down them until his fingers found your wet labia. Gently cupping your sex, he teased you playfully, watching closely as your breath caught in your throat and your pupils widened with desire. 

His erection strained against his jeans, making your nipples perk up in response.

He then inserted not one but two of his thick digits into your dripping core gently, feeling the resistance of your virginity as he thrust them in and out as small streak of blood trickled onto his fingers.

There was some discomfort in your expression, partly due to the pain caused by your first sexual experience but also fueled by anxiety and confusion regarding the situation.

Inside you, your mind wavered between feelings of remorse and yearning satisfaction as his powerful hands controlled your movements, taking command of your pleasure.

As he moved inside you, his touch became firmer, his pace picking up speed, creating a sensation unlike anything you had ever known before. Your whole body ached, your muscles twitching with the force of the waves crashing through you.

"You are incredibly tight," Cillian remarked approvingly, withdrawing his fingers momentarily only to plunge them back in again with greater fervor. His rough hands expertly navigated your insides, working you mercilessly, ignoring the protest of your uninitiated flesh. Each penetration drove a fresh wave of pleasure through your body, your nerves firing rapidly, setting every inch of your skin ablaze until, suddenly, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud moan escaping your lips, you eventually came undone and Cillian covered your mouth with the palm of his free hand as your body  began convulsing violently in orgasm.

"Sssh, we don't want to wake up Lorna," he chuckled quietly as your vision swam as your world turned upside down, your entire focus narrowed down to the sensations washing over you. Aftershocks radiated through your limbs, causing tiny tremors to run up and down your body as if electric currents surged through your very soul.

Breathless and flushed, you collapsed back into the embrace of the couch, exhausted and invigorated simultaneously as Cillian carefully withdrew his fingers from inside your body. 

Wetness and a tiny amount of blood tickled down onto the leather fabric on which you were sitting as your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

Cillian smiled devilishly at you, amused by how quickly he had brought you to climax, and you felt both grateful and somewhat shocked.

Your stomach squirmed with a strange mix of emotions: gratitude, humiliation, and embarrassment battled furiously amongst themselves. Your cheeks reddened with a combination of both physical stimulation and shame.

"I shouldn't have done that," you muttered, attempting to make sense of your own behaviour. You had committed a sin against God and your morals, and now, here you were - wanting more of it.

The thought scared you, but something stirred deep within you, telling you it would be foolish to dismiss it entirely. There was a power to this darkness that held an addictive quality, like the forbidden fruit you had just sampled.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it though," Cillian smirked. His statement carried undertones that left no doubt as to what he meant just as you both were startled by Lorna who came walking down the stairs to fetch herself a drink from the fridge.

Quickly, you adjusted your skirt to cover your slightly bruised and still wet entrance before hastily grabbing your discarded knickers. Cillian, without missing a beat, made himself appear nonchalant, leaning casually against the armrest beside you.

Lorna looked curiously at the both of you, remarking "It seems quite late. You should come to bed Cillian", unaware of the recent events transpiring.

"I will be up in just a minute love". Cillian lied, hoping to prolong the interaction with you for just a little bit longer but, unfortunately for him, you decided to head to your room instead, claiming tiredness.

After you closed the door behind you, the tension dissolved slightly and Cillian sighed audibly, running his hand through his messy locks, visibly conflicted, pondering on about what happened. 

Even as he prepared for sleep later that evening, right next to his wife, he couldn't help but dwell upon the enchanting image of you submitting to his touch, succumbing under his influence. Something about your innocence intrigued him even more than other women had. Perhaps it was the challenge you presented—the thrill of dominance over someone who belonged to another man.

Or maybe it was the sweet, lingering aftertaste of guilt you left on his tongue whenever he took liberties with your pure body. Whatever the reason, he simply could not resist pursuing you further despite the danger it posed to his marriage.

Meanwhile, you too, were laying in bed, thinking about what had transpired. 

Your mind raced through memories of your earlier interactions with Cillian – his confidence, his touch, his mannerisms. There was that secret part of you that craved more contact, regardless of where it might lead. This newfound curiosity frightened you almost as much as it excited you. 

You wondered what it would be like to touch him the way he had touched you, whether his experienced body would respond to you as you did to him. For so long, the idea of intimacy had been taboo for you, yet somehow, those strict boundaries seemed to shift when it came to Cillian. 

Your core ached from the intrusion, and your cheeks burned with indignation, but there was a spark of excitement that lit up deep within you as well. 

You wanted him to do this again and you knew that this was wrong and so did he. 

[tinydefector]

Hey man just wanted to let you know that I LOVE the idea you made up for the rust section in this post (https://www.tumblr.com/tinydefector/755501675977097216/every-single-day-i-think-about-your-post-about) is there any chance you could expand on the idea more? I’m just so curious about it

Ps just did my 3 month ask box clear out. Only got a few ask left in there now. Read rules before submitting.

Oh I definitely can. There is actually quite a few different things humans consume or use cosmetically that the bots would have a lot of questions over.

Here's a list of a few human made things that Cybertronians seem to very much enjoy for cosmetic, medical or as luxurious products.

1. Coconut oil

They happen to really enjoy it for their upholstery. Especially when they weren't able to get their hands on proper car products. (Cough cough TFP bots) I can definitely see Jack using it because he's a broke teenager and just adds a nice essential oil in with it and he's got himself a large jar of leather conditioner. It's only after Miko and Ralph see him using it on his shoes at one point they are like o0o. And begin stealing it to do bulkheads and bumblebee's seats.

Another one that would work similar is the same mix I actually use for horse saddles, which is rendered down. Beef or Lambs fat with Kerosene, so it doesn't go off. It's an amazing leather conditioner, and I tend to make a lot of it and store it in old powerade powder jars. Would recommend adding scented oil into it tho.

And I can totally see Malto's doing this. After Dot has one of her cows or sheep butchered, she renders down the fat to use for all sorts of different things, hand creams, soap, and leather conditioner. I can very much see her standing there with her hands on her hips, telling her bot kids it's time to do their leather, very similar to telling her kids it's hair day.

2. Corn starch

corn starch is a cleaning genius that is effective for many different purposes. Clean your car windows with a mixture of 120g cornstarch and 1L water and then dry with newspaper. Corn starch can deodorise smells too when sprinkled and left to work its magic for about half an hour, I have used this so much after getting water in my car to get ride of the wet car smell. Bots love it almost like a facial mask and floor cleaner.

Corn starch is also good for removing excess car polish and wax. The last thing you need after giving your car a good polish is residue that will attract dirt more than it did before. This is definitely one of Knockouts' favourite things after he learns about it. And with a buff it can also help remove swirl marks on black cars.

3. Toothpaste

toothpaste can be applied to make our headlights shine brighter. When headlights start to get foggy, or get the yellow stain to them, it helps remove all the excess dirt and grime with warm soapy water and a cloth, then apply any cheap toothpaste and rub.

Don't get it on your cars paintwork!!, Apply tape or plastic around it or toy can make your paint bubble, chip or fade off.

4. Most Soda/Soft drink, Energy drinks and a few other drinks.

It's no secret humans have a large collection of flavoured drinks that many of us love. And it happens that many of them are actually very good at removing rust. Nearly every type of soda and Energy drink can be used for this purpose but so can Black tea.

Brew a Strong Cup of Black Tea: Soak a tea bag or loose tea leaves in water to create a brew, than soak what you want in it for a while then scrub it with some steal wool. So many of these things honestly scare the bots. How can a fleshy human body withstand drinking a rust removing agent.

_________________

"Jack, can I borrow some money?" Miko asked while hanging upside down on the couch as she watched him work. "No Miko I'm low on funds as it is, just brought some stuff" he calls back to her as he works over the small burner stove.

She lets out a groan before rolling off the couch to walk over to watch him. "What are you doing?, science experiment, cooking, drugs?" She shot off a collection of questions. "No I'm making some leather conditioner. Mom got given a whole lot of old bees wax and I'm using it with coconut oil and some scented oil" he hums back, not paying to much attention to her.

"Oh like that stuff you uses for your shoes and your mom uses in her car." Ralph asked peaking up from his computer. "Yea, I running low and well they had coconut oil on special so I'm making alot of it so I can store it" Jack calls back giving Ralph a smile.

"Oh that's so cool, wait do you think the bots would use it, oh. Do you think they have anyway of getting thinks like seat polish or stuff like that?" She asked before her mouth hangs open at the thought, she hadn't ever seen any of the bots do maintenance like that. Yes they had decontamination sprays and small work from Ratchet when things weren't working but they had never seen the bots really take care of themselves.

"Jack, do you think [Name] would be able to get some things for us, I have an idea, we have never seen the bots every actually look after themselves, we could do them a little spar day" she exclaims excitedly.

"Miko, maybe the bots haven't because they don't need it," Jack hisses under his breath. Before sighing. "OK, yes, they do, Arcee want admit it, but I do leave her a jar of the mix." He mumbles.

Miko punches the air in excitement. "Oh this is awesome just you wait!" She runs out of the small room to the rails as her eyes search for the person she was looking for. "[Name!] Your a mechanic Right?" She yells to get their attention.

They look up from their own car they had been doing maintenance on. "Ah I would say that but I know some stuff why?" They call back.

"Got an idea for when the bots get back but need your help." She smiles at them while skipping down the stairs.

The drive back out of Jasper towards the base is one filled with loud music and chatter from the young girl as she looks through the different items in the bags. "Wait what's all the energy drinks for?" She asked while looking up at them. "Well I remember hearing Ratchet complain able getting low on his rust removing agent and these bad boys work just as well, plus I drink them" they explain.

"OK... and the other stuff?" She questions. "It's all stuff I use normally for car maintenance, that way I don't have to spend a fortune on expensive stuff. You wanna get the bots a bit of a spa day, these are the things you need" they hum as they egt closer to base.

By the time they make it back inside the bots are chatting about and mingling with each other again, only looking over to see who had driven in. "Autobot may I please have your Attention" they call out. All of them pause their conversation as they turn to look and wait.

"Yes what can we do for you?" Optimus asked a slight rumble echoing from him. They hold up the bags of stuff. "I know you guys are undercover and technically don't exist, and I doubt Fowler gets you stuff for maintenance, so I've got some stuff to help out," they explain.

"SPA DAY!!!" Miko shouts, it catches Jack and Ralph's attention as they look over the guard rails. It earns looks form the collection of bots.

"Turst me" they hum while grabbing out a can of energy drink and cracking it. They take a large mouth fuel. "You guys haven't had a chance to really relax and have something outside of medical from Ratchet and I know you guys are now carting us around and your interior isnt as clean as you want it. So I have supplies." They state while pulling out the different things and explaining what they do.

When they get to the last two bags filled with cheap soda and energy drinks, a wicked smile crosses their face. "And these are for Ratchet and myself." They hum. "And why is that?" Arcee tilts her head slightly while her optics narrow, trying to figure out their purpose.

"They are for me because they have caffeine and Taurine in them and it keeps me awake and working for when Ratchet needs an extra hand for welding your wounds. They are for Ratchet becuase they are great rust removing agent" the moment they finish that sentence all the bots go quiet. Jack and Miko are trying not to laugh and Ralph just looks on in awe.

"Spit it out right now!" Ratchet nearly shouts as he moves to scoop them up, panic written across his face as the other autobots move out of his way. "Are you draft! Why woudl you drink Rust remover!" He nearly shouts panic over taking him.

"Easy Ratch! I ain't dying!" They shout, laughing over the panic in all their optics. "Ratchet, will they be OK?" Optimus asked, worried. Arcee shoots a glare at the kids who are now laughing so hard over the situation. Bulkhead is pacing back and forth. "This isn't good, what do we tell Fowler if they off-line!"

"Do you have any idea what that will do to your internal organs" Ratchet hisses and he begins fussing over them. "Uh yea, removes the rust" they state, trying their hardest not to laugh. They got to make the joke and they couldn't be prouder of themself.

"You don't have Fragging rust your an Organic!" He nearly snarls. "Ratchet fuck, settle down, it hasn't killed me yet and I've been drinking it longer than I've known you guys exist. Alot of our drinks can remove rust it's just something they do" they try to settle him down.

"No, absolutely no, you will not be drinking this in my presence ever. Do I make myself clear!" It has nearly the whole base stiff from how worked up he is. "Guess this would be a bad time to tell you about how everything we consume has the potential to kill us?"

_____________________

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You wring your hands as you watch Steve drift along the other wall. The white tee shirt makes the ink on his arms seem starker as he has a thumb hook in his jean pocket, the other reaching to take an oval frame from the console table. 

You squeeze your fingers tight, until they might crack, then release the tension along with your breath. He sets the picture back down and stands straight, looking around emphatically.

“Nice place,” he remarks as he faces you, “lots of space for you… and your… boyfriend?”

You watch him dully, “it’s nice.”

He is unfazed by your blunt deflection, “these old century townhouses, there’s not many of those left. I remember my mother lived in one. A few streets away.” He nears you and you brace yourself. He angles his arm towards you and shows you a banner that reads, ‘Brooklyn strong’.

“Oh, that’s very nice,” you lean back on your heel and pivot. “We should probably get started, we’re already behind.”

“You’re from Brooklyn too?” He asks as he goes to the bench.

“Grandparents lived here. They left me the place.” You take out a folder, the typical package you have ready for beginners, “we’ll start by tracing your hands.”

“Alright,” he stands close as you open the folder on the back of the piano. You turn and pluck a pencil from the jar on the shelf.

“It’s just… an exercise,” you explain as you hand him the pencil, “trace left then right and label them left and right.”

“Oh, wow,” he accepts the pencil, “this feels like grade school.”

“Hmm, well, yeah, my students are typically younger… my older students have a little more experience.”

“No, no, I’m excited,” he says as he spreads out his hand on the paper. His hand is huge. 

You spin again and slip out another looseleaf and hand it over, “for your other hand.”

You set it down on the polished wood and he thanks you quietly as he focuses on following the outline of his long fingers. Looking at his hand makes you feel tiny. Your eyes scan the small stars on each knuckle, red, white, and blue. The ring finger is untouched.

He finishes the exercise and you go over the five-finger system with him. It feels so ridiculous. He’s not a child but you find it simple and easy. When you have that all done, you fold up the file and put it aside.

“Sit,” you gesture to the upholstery.

He obeys, looking down at the keys as he rests his hands on his jeans. You think about grabbing a stool as you consider the limited expanse left beside him. You can fit. You lower yourself and hit a key.

“We’ll go over the musical alphabet now, low to high.”

You sense his gaze, intent on you as you go through the usual introduction. You pause and have him repeat what you just did on the keys. He does it slowly as his arm presses to yours.

“Now from middle C,” you instruct and demonstrate. “You want your hands at middle C.” You raise your hands, “left: F-G-A-B-C, right: C-D-E-F-G. Thumbs together.”

“Right,” he does exactly as you say. He has good form as he keeps his hands on the keys but not heavy.

“Good,” you get up and take the metal TV tray from the small rack tucked beside the shelf. You unfold one and bring it around to his elbow. Your grandfather always had one open beside his leather chair. The paint shows the wear. “Now, we will go through a warm up and have you write it out.”

“Okay,” he watches you. His blue eyes are so brilliant and intense. You realise, he’s been looking at you for longer than you knew. You take the folder and open it up again. “I appreciate the patience.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” you spread out a blank sheet, “you’re much less fidgety than a six-year old.”

“I hope so,” he chuckles.

“So, our goal by the end is for you to play one song. Does that sound good?”

“A whole song?” He echoes, “uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Nothing too complicated,” you turn the folder to him and put the pencil across it, “so as we learn, we’ll write down what we play and this will help you learn to read music.”

“Right, let’s do the spider song as our warm-up,” you stand beside the piano. You can’t bear to sit next to him, not as you feel the sweat still speckling on your neck and beading under your hairline. 

“Spider song?” He grins, “that’d be a good tat, huh? A spider?”

“Um, I guess, I…”

“You’re not spider girl, though,” he says, “flowers.” He glances over at the window sill then back to you. His eyes descend slowly and you struggle not to wilt. You feel like he’s looking right through you, “poppies.”

You nod and shift your feet closer together, “I appreciate the simplicity.”

“Ha, I can never keep a plant alive,” he snorts, “you must just have that gentle touch that helps them thrive.”

“Well, um, I think we should get started,” you cross your arms and stride behind him, going to the other side of the piano. “Middle C.”

🎹

The lesson is as successful as any other. You stand at the corner of the piano as Steve keys out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. He hits the last note with the same pride shown by the bouncing seven-year olds that perch in that very spot daily. 

“Great. You got your first song,” you say, “there’s a print-out in the folder,” you point beyond him, “it shows the keys, I know it’s not the same but it’s a good way to practice position. You can use that if you want to practice between lessons.”

“Between lessons,” he pulls his hands into his lap, “does that mean I passed? I get to come back?”

“That’s up to you. If you really want to learn, you’re going to need to keep at it. Older students tend to take a little longer. Um, sorry, not to… I hope that isn’t insulting.”

“Nope,” he claps his legs and turns, standing from the bench. He pushes his head side to side and cracks his neck, “I’ve always needed a little extra love, you know? I can be a bit bullheaded. Sam says I got a thick skull.”

You know he’s trying to be friendly. There’s just something off. You still can’t believe he’s really there or that you let him in. To that point, you’ve been going through a routine, letting the steps guide you through. Now, you’re at a loss. There is no parent coming to usher him out of your home.

“I got the fee,” he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, “I guess I should’ve paid at the start.”

“No, uh, that’s fine,” you eke out.

“So uh, same time next week? Do you think maybe I could come back sooner?”

“Um, I’d have to look at my schedule. I’ll call–”

He holds out several bills and you accept them quietly. You always find the payment is awkward, even if it’s the whole point. You are offering a service, you deserve everything you earn. 

“Great, I’ll keep my phone close.”

The silence rises to strangle you. You peer around, grasping the bills tightly. What do you say to make him go? It’ll be easier to tell him you’re at capacity over the phone but you can’t then. Not to his face.

“You know, I still didn’t get a good look at your piece. Do you mind?”

“What?” You look at him.

“Your ink,” he nods at your feet, “do you mind if–”

He doesn't finish his question as he bends to look at your legs. You sway uncertainly and turn, pointing your toe to present your ankle to him. You don’t know what else to do. He examines it and you wince as he reaches to touch the skin beside it.

“Sam’s a talented guy,” he drags his fingertips away and stands, “helps when you have a great canvas. It suits you, sweetheart.”

Your brows rise as you gape at him. You quickly snap your mouth shut and fold your hands together. Your heart is pulsing behind your ears. You need him gone. This is your space and he’s intruded for long enough. The lesson is over.

“Don’t forget your folder,” you flit away from him and fold up the file, “here.” You face him again and push it against his chest, “I have to clean up for my next lesson.”

“Clean– this place is immaculate,” he looks around as he clutches the folder by the edges, “I don’t think–”

“Please, I have a lesson to prepare. Don’t forget to practice.”

You take a step back as he gazes at you. Unmoving. You might be telling him to go but it’s entirely his decision. Your nerves ping at the thought that you could not make him go. That if he stays long enough, he’ll realise your lie. Your excuse. He is your only lesson that day.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he relents at last as he tucks the folder under his arm, “see ya next week.”

You’re paralysed as you watch him cross the room. He disappears down the stairs and you listen to the creak of each step. At the bottom, you hear him shuffling around and when you find the courage to go look down, the door closes behind him.

You hurry down the stairs and quickly twist the lock. You let out your breath and lean into the wind as you let out a shuddery breath. His scent lingers. You’ll have to open some windows and light some incense. Hopefully, you can forget all about him.

[lorei-writes]

Upholstery

Cyran x Maid!Reader Fluff/Comfort ~1k

The three times Cyran comes back, all the same yet different.

Content Warnings: injury, blood (implied)

The settee near sighed, surprised by the weight it was so forced to accept; nevertheless, it still embraced its duty and the weary knight it came to serve, plush cushions lulling tired limbs. Cyran closed his eyes. His throat bobbed as it swallowed another thick complaint. He let it go, however, released his aching arms from the clutches of mandatory unrest – the velvet curtains were thicker than any armour, any shield, and he felt safe while enveloped in their shade.

The settee near sighed, surprised by the weight it was so forced to accept; nevertheless, it still embraced its duty and the weary knight it came to serve, plush cushions lulling tired limbs. Cyran closed his eyes. His throat bobbed as it swallowed another thick complaint. He let it go, however, released his aching arms from the clutches of mandatory unrest – the velvet curtains were thicker than any armour, any shield, and he felt safe while enveloped in their shade.

The door opened soundlessly.

Cyran did not leave his post.

A click and a clack, a servant’s shoes tapped away at the floor. The carpet briefly muffled their steps, only for the sound to return with ringing of a regiment of rings dragged along the curtain rod. Cyran’s brow creased.

“Five more minutes?”

“Not a minute more,” you replied, hands propped at your hips. “You reek, Sir Rose. Stay there any longer and the stench will penetrate the upholstery so thoroughly I will not be able to remove it, not even in a hundred of years.”

“But —”

The tapping intensified to cease in a blink of an eye. As lithe as you were, you faced him with all of your maid-ly might. It was only becoming of the headservant in service of the Third Prince of Rhodolite, Clavis Lelouch. “Should I hold it against you? Until the end of my – or your – days?”

No arguments could have been made. As fatigued as a caravan horse at the brink of its destination, Cyran ran his hand across his face to then brush back his dishevelled hair. He stretched out his arms and kicked his legs, red lights of the setting sun tainting the black leather of his boots. Cyran towered above you as he stood, yet as calloused as his palms were, as heavy as the sword at his hip was… there was no threat to him, those mellowed eyes that stared at you so incessantly betraying no signs of aggravation either.

“Well then.”

“Then —”

A clack and a click, and you couldn’t help but watch him leave, to notice the lightness to his step, some innate nimbleness that he possessed even in this state. You pursed your lips.

“Sir Rose!”

A hand at the door knob, Cyran looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“That purple…”

He rubbed at the stain on his cheek, neither exasperated nor amused, or much rather, locked somewhere perfectly between the two. “Prince Clavis,” he not-explained.

“… it looks good on you,” you whispered, but that he hadn’t heard. Footfall marched on down the corridor and you were left alone, the settee unharmed

***

Another day came, another night fell. The sun and the moon remained the same, however, as did the drawing room and the settee, and at least superficially, you and Sir Rose too. You lit a candle before setting it down on the table. Armed in soft cloth, you approached the window, a basin waiting at the sill your ammunition.

“It’s the first time I’m seeing a palace maid wash windows after the dark.”

You drew the breath in. Sharply. “Your eyes must not be working properly then, Sir Rose. It is most ordinary.”

“If you say so.”

When against the pitch black darkness of the night, glass can become mirror-like, provided that a bit of light lends it a hand. Water splashed as you wrung the excess out of the cloth. A shiver skipped along your spine and you begun your polishing, strange hesitation shackling your hands. It was unthinkable, most incomprehensible… so you pressed the cloth to the pane, dabbed the sweat off the reflection of Cyran’s brow. The knight reclined in his seat. He closed his eyes, as if merely squinted to let them rest, and took a deep breath. Wide shoulders lowered evenly at a long exhale and his hair seemed more brown rather than red, almost as if extinguished by the hurdles of the long day.

“Sir Rose?” you inquired, your hand frozen mid-caressing the glass.

“What is it?”

“Ashen shades do not suit you too well.”

“Am I offending your sense of aesthetic again?” Cyran laughed. “This will not ruin the upholstery.”

“You’d be wise to rest properly. Go and sleep,” you insisted.

“I refuse to be lectured by the only maid working the night shift.”

Water splashed as you let go of the cloth. “So you will go if I go? Then go! Go!”

Why did you scream? You did not know.

***

Cyran sat in the settee again, although it was also as if it had never happened before. As if you had never seen him before… Although perhaps you hadn’t. Not like this.

“You should be in the infirmary now, not here. That’s too much red for your complexion to look healthy.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t been through. I’ve got treated already.”

“But you’re still hurting!” you shouted despite your best intentions to remain calm.

“Then don’t throw me off the settee this time,” Cyran laughed. He laughed, and there was fire in his eyes, smouldering and longing, and a hint of fear in his voice, and even the blood that refused to leave the trenches of his nails seemed to ignite and —

And you yourself felt so cold as you cradled his head against your chest, perhaps taking on some of the frost that threatened to take him away. His hair hung lose over his shoulder and you brushed it away, coiled the strands around you fingers like copper wire. He was there in flesh and bones, real and physical unlike the reflection you’d nearly lost.

“I have one request to ask of you, Cyran,” you uttered after a moment of thought.

“Not ‘Sir Rose’?”

“No. Just Cyran.”

“Then ask away.”

“Never cease trying to ruin the upholstery, I beseech you,” you whispered, his good arm raising to embrace you by the waist the sole reply.

--

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[chasingbluebirds]

Something Lively

Written for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial theme, "Empty House"!

Word count: 996

--

Lish coughed a little as he entered the room, the combination of musty air and floating dust an assault on his nose and throat. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air from his eyes so he could look for a window to vent the decaying smell of the room with whatever wind could potentially make its way inside. There were three lining the wall at the opposite end of the room, tall and imposing with heavy, moth-eaten curtains hanging in front.

From what he could tell, they also looked decayed shut.

Sighing internally, he made his way over. His muscles were most generously described as pitifully lacking, but he didn't want to give up on the room just yet. Something in him, some sense of adventure gained from his folly books of fairy tales, whispered excited that this was surely the room he'd find it in — even if he wasn't yet sure what "it" even was. Something that would make his life more lively and interesting, at least.

That was the whole reason he was in this strange, empty house. He could have ignored the old mansion. It would have been safer to stay out. But an abandoned manse like this, hidden away in the woods — there was a mystery here just waiting to be found, and he was damn well going to find it.

With that determination settling back in his gut, he reached for the first window, and with a bit of struggle, he managed to heave it open a crack, then wider still with the new purchase his fingers found underneath. He stuck his head out feverishly as he pulled it up to his shoulders, taking a deep breath of the surrounding forest air to clear the feeling of bile threatening to rise up out of him after such effort in the must.

When he felt finally able to breathe, he looked around again, taking in the room more properly now that his eyes weren't stinging from the dust.

Grand bookshelves lined one of the walls, crammed full with spines of all shapes and sizes. Most of them were brown or black, though a handful interspersed among them boasted gold trim or red leather covers. He could see creases in their fabric, indicating where any given book had been especially well studied.

Across from the shelves sat a desk made of a polished mahogany wood, richly dark with the barest hint of a reflective sheen. Like everything else, it too was covered in dust and its edges told of decades of decay, but he could tell by the ink-stained surface and scratched floorboards under its seat that it had been a frequent place of study. Beyond that, a matching chair curved elegantly upwards, the worn upholstery of the seat and back whispering hints of how its former owner must have sat. A tall, heavy-set individual, from the looks of it.

Lish plopped down into the chair himself, running his fingers curiously over the smoothly curved armrests. It was a surprisingly comfortable seat, despite its looks. He looked out from its spot, trying to imagine what it must have been like to live in this place.

From this vantage, he felt like it would be so natural to take a book from the shelves. He even knew exactly what book he'd take. A thin ray of sunshine through the trees outside shone right on it, the curling golden shape embossed on its spine beckoning to him with its gleam. Sucking in an excited breath, he hopped up and snatched it from its place, running his hand over its soft cover before flipping it wide open.

The pages landed on one of those heavy creases in the spine, to a curious diagram of something wispy moving over an injured person surrounded by plants, then the injury gone but the plants wilting. Written underneath in a messy scrawl were the words "loop vine" and a few words that he didn't recognize. Plant names, maybe? He flipped to the next page, where there was what appeared to be a carefully drawn symbol, a looping shape that looked vaguely like a kind of shield but wider and simpler. There was a circle loosely drawn around it, with what looked like the tip of a sword caught in the edge of it, and around that, more words he didn't quite recognize. A page of text seemed to accompany it, and transfixed by the curious images, Lish wandered back over to the chair to read.

Soon, he was filled with a sense of wonder at what he seemed to have found. He'd heard stories and legends about magic, and the rare traveler would always ignite gossip of such practices in other places. In town, however, it was quite taboo to even speak of it as anything more than that. It wasn't something that was supposed to be real. This, book, however…well, the writing was hard to read, and it had many words he'd never heard before, but it seemed to speak not only to magic's existence but even of how to perform it. Page by page, he started feeling an urge to try something out. Could it be possible? Could he perform magic, if he figured out one of the spells seemingly detailed in this book?

He flipped back to the page with the sigil, staring intently at it. He could draw that, he was pretty sure. He skimmed over the opposite page again, looking for the words it had said to encant.

"Draw the sigil in the air with one hand…and…cust dire ab nocere."

For just a second, out of the corner of his eye, Lish caught a blink of something at the edges of his vision, a flash of some kind of energy. He couldn't tell clearly what it was. But from that moment, he knew he'd been right. There was something lively to be found in this house.

[crimson-phantom-designs]

Like What You See?

A reflection shows much more than what's on the outside but what is going on beneath the gaze regarding the one who's staring back.

Is it disdain of seeing a stranger from what time lost familiarity to or the watchful gaze of a lover to reunite the reflection with its bearer?

Written off the prompt "Like What You See?"

This story is mature content! 18+ only! It contains lots of descriptive spice, crazed passion and self loathing. You have been properly warned!

I spent way too much time on this to get it close to satisfactory as I could! Story is under the cut, wordcount is roughly 8400. It's a thorough story but worth it I promise. 😅👀😏

After coming through the door and offloading his hat and cane on the hook, Ebenezer took notice by short glance the inhabitant's garments were not already hung indicating he was still gone. Ebenezer groaned as he rubbed the back of his neck, forlorned in the emptiness that brought but steadfast in his persuit to the bedroom regardless. His tired, weary eyes tracked their way across the the grandeur spanse of his lover's flat to the bedroom looking forward to a moment to destress the long day away of closing accounts, offsetting others and the consistent griping of interests that accrued off debts he came to collect.

Maintaining his hardened, stoic decorum to put on a portrayal of strict modest severity waned heavily on his body and mind over time, where now he just wanted to shed that armor and unguard himself without the worry of social scrutiny. To let himself be *him* personally, what he was so careful no one caught notice of and dared thought him be weak.

Well, almost no one...

That thought made him tug a small smile as his guarded walls caved while he mentally shed the heavy armor letting his eyes soften to a dull sweetness as he took in the atmosphere.

Scrooge wasn't a man to be impressed by flaunted luxury dangled about to gain someone's attention, he found it disdainful infact, but his lover wasn't like that. This was his personal space he was allowed access to and was his lover's to spend his money how he pleased. He never tried to win Ebenezer over by it in a flashy style, the doctor certainly would see that as cheap and tasteless. For him it was a persuit of a different kind, one of wit. Ebenezer found that quite humbling in a way which made the opportunities when his lover did press gifts on him, what he shuttered at the price of, truly meaningful. It was something done out of special attention to his interest rather than to gain influence.

Regardless to the sophisticated air he wasn't used to, it felt nice coming here on ocassion as it was admittedly much more cosy than his own home. It was a space that proclaimed intellectualistic elegance and scholarly charm yet in an intimate fashion meant to bring one at ease, it was a far cry from Ebenezer's dusty emptiness of the massive space he called his own.

No detail here was gone unattended to in the meticulous doctor's abode. Highly polished, lavished furnishings of mahogany and rosewood decorated the space covered with plush upholstery and fine leather, anything one could ever dream of wanting. It was always so invitingly warm inside with a soft scent of whatever was in season, currently it was apples and cherries with an aroma of fresh lavender. It was a fragrancy that encouraged relaxation, what he readily looked forward to rewarding himself with.

Yet it also felt equally rewarding that he was finally given his own key in order to do so... He rolled the piece of brass, strung to his pocket by a chaitlaine, about his fingers like a keepsake in deep thought as his passive stare regard it warmly sentimental.

It was an act that took a monumental level of trust and showed much garnered appreciation he never thought he would have again, or ever in this aspect, from another person -particularly one as scrupulous as the doctor. The little gesture of both having exchanged pieces of metal was deeply signifying to him, it was far more than a door opener. It demonstrated an unbreakable bond and commitment between two people, as much as they could represent. One that was hard earned but that made it deeply gratifying to possess now as he dropped the heavily embellished mortise key in his welt pocket for safe keeping.

Not that Francis Osman really gave him the same approach. He had come inside his dwelling when he damn well pleased to deliver a passionate rousting,

not that Ebenezer tried to stop him... but it was getting abit much...

Ebenezer simply gave him a key to save on the stress of it. Yet it took an endeavor to get the same in return, something that upset him at first, but he also understood the sensitive nature of value in both monetary and the research held inside the man's personal quarters that would spell devastation if it was misappropriated by a turncoat. Ebenezer knew what was free to access and what was to be kept off limits, his personal study being the only limit, and he was trusted to respect that.

Yet the most rewarding factor was the fact the man being who he was and how closely he monitored others in his private spaces, trust him in this way without his presence. It felt lovingly validating as he knew the man never confer that to anyone before. It made that piece of brass the most valuable thing he owned.

Entering the bedroom, the first article of clothing to liberate himself of was a small but impactful one. He thread his fingers through the satin loops of the cravat that held his high color snugly about his neck. He loosened the knot absent-mindedly and pulled the constricting garment away to toss over the bedside chair as he welcomed the rush of crisp air against his throat with a small sigh. He popped the top button of his high collar to allow more relief.

He closed his eyes as he tugged the next confining layer off his shoulders and down his arms as he tossed the heavy tailcoat onto the bedside chair as well. Already feeling at ease, he went to unbutton the waistcoat as he opened his eyes to look down at himself in his own regard feeling modestly confident to do so.

He undone the four buttons as he peeled the form fitted, thick piece of clothing away and off his shoulders with a deep sigh of relief as fresh air reached through the thin linen shirt he was only wearing now, allowing his skin underneath to breathe.

He did enjoy how this layered attire tucked away some of his features he knew used to be firm and tight what no longer were. The wear of his age progressed and wore on him bitterly cruel to his mind but there was nothing to be done against time lost but try to conceal and not focus on it. He would just reliesh in the refreshing feeling to be free in the private comforts of such a privileged personal space.

As his next objective was to free his feet of his tightly laced spat boots his next following this was the ornate, mahogany marble poster bed in the center of this room. One he spent many an intimate moment in, but now simply craved languishing in the contentment of its soft, lush sheets. Yet as he kicked off his heeled shoes and passed the large mirror atop the dresser in this process of self relishment, he stopped in his tracks. He gave himself a hard, long look as his restful ready smile began to fade the more he looked in the mirror, scrutinizing himself without sympathy as he turned at all angles. Not appreciating the man he saw in the reflection without the image imagined as his ideal form.

He was drawn in further like a hare to a baited snare as he approached the reflection to lean forward and thread a worried hand through his hair then down the side of his face with a heavy sigh.

He had been feeling good about himself at least until now but he also couldn't stop looking no matter the want to as he held in place while the snare tightened.

Internally dwealing, he waned on all the years he lost just coasting through life, taking time for granted so carelessly, until the day he looked up to ready himself in the mirror one day and saw a man no longer youthful but aging what almost felt overnight. Grey hair had replaced his almond brown locks with a recede as it consumed the color all down his body. His vibrant blue eyes had dulled to pale slate and the hair along his face had started turning white, mercilessly draining even the grey along his temples, ever slowly consuming what color was left at all.

Ebenezer made a soft noise with a somber stare. He looked about like Marley now when he first started working for him just... tirder... Heavier circles under his eyes with more stress marks along their crevices and deep frown lines.

He couldn't understand how this could be a picture of appeal...

Which was why he tried to avoid regards in mirrors, outside of his focused preening. Particularly long ones such as this, because he knew where his thought patterns would lead as the person staring back at him felt like a stranger.

The outside didn’t match the way he felt inside and he found it depressing each time.

Even the hand that was examining his features hadn't escaped time as he glanced down at it through the reflection with an expression like it wasnt his own. Deep palm lines cut into his skin and along the back with wrinkles forming along the skin of his grip.

"Like what you see as much as I do?" The sharp raspy tone of Francis Osman cut the silence so close it made Ebenezer jump. He hated the soft natured talent the man had to almost manifest into a room without sound, he would never get used to it. Taking a quick gander at his well dressed attire, he assumed the man had just arrived home, saw his things by the door and went stealth as a fox on the hunt to purposely stir a fluster out of him. He was successful.

"Not particularly... nor do I necessarily understand how." Ebenezer's brow wrinkled at the disturbance to his self scrutiny but did allow a soft sideways gaze conveying his welcome more than language could. Something they both found mutually at ease to do with another, transfer conversation through expression alone.

"Are you saying I don't have good taste then?" Francis cocked a high brow yet shot a warned expression that he knew what the man was doing in here as he went so quiet.

Scrooge gave a bemused stare before scowling at him as he snipped defensively. "What does that have anything to do with my God given right to be critical about myself?"

"It's good to be attentive but sometimes one can be too critical in doing it..." Francis raised both brows with a heedful exchange. He slipped behind him, regarding an intense stare through the reflection as Ebenezer tried to ignore him and continued to examine himself, his hairline, the sides of his face. It was a through inspection, yet not completely in vain as Francis remarked observantly with a flat tone. "Your dysmorphic preoccupation is obsessed with perceived flaws in your appearance. It is such a repetitive behavior of yours to a point you don't know how you truly look, just what you think you see..."

Ebenezer huffed deeply with a sardonic glare. "Thank you Francis, I am aware. I don't need an analyzation of my frets right now..." He expelled a frustrated sigh as he returned to his inspection.

"Do you think I would have moved half way around the world for any old thing?"

Ebenezer cut a hard stare to him with a pause. "Well... You did..."

The fox moved to break the hare from a snare of its own mind as Francis tsked. "Ebenezer, you are your worst enemy..." He moved closer to rub Ebenezer's shoulders as his hands slip over his chest to pull at the remaining buttons of his shirt. Clearly to illicit a distraction, which was accomplished.

Ebenezer huffed annoyed as he tried to brush them away. "Francis, what are you doing? Quit that. What?-...No..." He finished with a whine at the realization of his undressing as his shoulders went slack. He only exchanged a very expressive pleading look though their reflection to stop yet doesn't try to halt him as Francis continued to unbutton the shirt.

"Why?" Francis chimed whimsically only looking up briefly from his task.

"I just want don't want you to..." Ebenezer exhaled pitifully.

"Want me to what?..."

"You know what..." Ebenezer spoke flat lowering his brows with a stare that conveyed all he needed to explain.

Francis hummed. "You don't like looking at yourself yet you can't hardly be pulled away when you do... I find that hard to believe you can't see what I do..." The side of his mouth twist a smirk, Ebenezer's reflection shot a petulant stare to that.

"There is a big difference in perspective of what I see and you see. I'm realistic in my appearance, you just see something to get perverted with..." He heard Francis chuckle not denying that fact as he felt fingers surround his neck to trace the legnth as they dipped under the stiff material, pulling it back. Ebenezer tried to ignore this as he half shrugged, giving himself a quick glance, before looking away with a knit brow. "So it troubles me sometimes... we all have our faults... its... more than just vanity... alot goes through my mind when I see myself..."

Ebenezer sighed roughly with a frown as he snapped himself out of his thoughts. He tried to slap away the hands that returned to undoing the shirt.

"...I also don't want to watch whatever you're planning on doing infront of this mirror to try and convince me agains't what my eyes see just fine." He glanced back through their reflection resistently yet his cheeks reddened slightly. "That's obscenely uncomfortable..."

"I never said anything about sex..."

Ebenezer barked a laugh with a cynical stare. "If I take my clothes off anywhere around you, I have learned too damn well to know what to expect. You can't control yourself."

"Have you ever complained before?"

"Yes!"

"Mm, fair enough... Well, if you were not so stunningly attractive, do you think that would be such a problem?" He shot an alluring glare to his reflection, one that was dangerously seductive and Ebenezer knew it all too well. It was one he found himself held captive to break free from as his mind twist in conflictions.

"...I... don't know... You... You're twisting my words, stop it." Ebenezer exchanged a heated stare before looking away, still uncomfortable with the whole idea.

Francis undone the final button of the linen shirt, resting just over Ebenezer's sternum, as he tugged the material to the side and over his shoulder. Revealing an expanse of pale skin and part of his chest, he rubbed a hand along the warm flesh of Ebenezer's bare shoulder to dip into the wide split V of his stretched collar. Artful fingers brushed through the soft dusting of chest hair underneath as they came around his pectoral form to tease the nipple making Ebenezer flinch from that with a soft, irritated grunt.

"I'm not hearing any complaining." Francis purred through a low rasp.

Ebenezer exchanged a depressive look with troubled brows though the reflection towards him. "When you're this determined, would it matter if I did?"

"My, my what a face... I'm not forcing you just... giving you a little encouragement..." Francis purred behind him as he applied a reassuring kiss to the back of his neck.

Ebenezer swallowed hard, only staring off into the reflection as Francis gathered the material up and pulled it over his head, then forward past his broad shoulders then arms, exposing more and more smooth, pale flesh. Yet as he popped the cuffs and slid them off the man's wrists to pull it away completely, Ebenezer gathered the material to his chest signaling resistance, the same somber look on his face.

"Oh, come on...." Francis spoke with a sedative lull to his tone as he kissed along Ebenezer's neck from back to side with a cunning stare. "Let me show you how beautiful you are..."

Ebenezer stared into the reflection uncomfortably but after a moment of tug a war with the garment, he sighed softly, looking away and let it go. "I can't believe you're making me do this... this is embarrassing..." He barely murmured over a soft breath, brows tensing in resentment.

"It's your body, there's nothing to be embarrassed by it, especially one as lovely as yours." Ebenezer made a small scoff to that looking away as he felt an insisting squeeze to his shoulders. "Now... What do you see?"

Ebenezer huffed a hard sigh through his nostrils, not wanting to look at first, as he rocked his head back to the mirror and gave himself a judgemental regard before rocking his head back to the man behind him. "Do want me to be honest or say what you want me to?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

Ebenezer sighed with an eye roll as he looked back with a languid stare, slate eyes fluttering over his naked torso with a frown. "I see a worn down 50 year old man who should really put a shirt back on..."

"Something positive..." Francis voice went flatly unamused.

Ebenezer's head snapped back as he groused. "What? That wasn't negative, its simply a fact!"

"You know what I meant..." Francis gave him a gentle push from behind.

Scrooge exhaled another sigh as he examined himself again for a moment. "...I'm thin." He half shrugged.

"A bit too thin because you refuse to eat regularly but it's a start."

"I gave it an effort, now who's being critical?" He turned to glare venom over his shoulder.

"No, that was honestly." Francis retort as Ebenezer grunt with a hard stare trying not to show the scathed vulnerability that remark caused as he knit a deep scowl. With a huff he went to move away from the mirror as he was seized quickly. "Ah ah, get back here." Ebenezer gave a pout but complied as Francis even tone spoke affirmed. "That was out of concern for your health, not a scrutinal one. I much adore your figure actually... I just wish you would care more for yourself is all." Fingertips flutter along his sides making Ebenezer twitch as Francis purred with a growing smile, studying him. "I could name all the things I like about what I see if you cannot... hmm... infact..." He hummed warmly nipping Ebenezer's earlobe what the man visibly expressed a sneer as he tried to pull away. Yet as he tried, Francis pinned his thighs between the dresser and himself as he slipped his hands over Ebenezer's wrists to hold him in place. There was a mild protest to that as Ebenezer cut his eyes away from the reflection, his face resentful but he didn't attempt to fight back as his shoulders dropped in defeat. Francis smiled as he studied this, his chin resting in the bend of Ebenezer's neck and shoulder. "How about... you let me do that and we go from there?"

"Go from there?..." Ebenezer parroted the words as his eyes stared off into the reflection with a discerning gaze back to him. "I do believe I am being set up..."

"Now you're being facetious." Francis grinned as he gave Ebenezer's frame a squeese, the man's expression still not swayed as he continued. "Now... hmm..." Francis hummed thoughtfully, keen eyes flicker over the man infront of him for a moment. "I see a beautiful set of slate blue, very expressive, eyes... Do you like your eyes?"

"Other than they seem to betray my very thoughts, I suppose..." Ebenezer glanced up, a soft sparkle in their centers revealing his delight to that compliment. He seemed to realize this and shield them away quickly, knowing this to be a fact.

Feeling himself being regarded with fine detail, Ebenezer's hands broke free to cross over his chest bashfully yet Francis pulled them back down agains't Ebenezer's objection but he relented, huffing a sigh with a stern glare but nothing else. The man's intense gaze bore a considerable weight, enough Ebenezer felt it burning into his skin. It was one he wouldn't dare meet knowing it would be his undoing as he swallowed hard and cut his eyes away.

"I see a squared face shape accented nicely with a wide jawline sculpted by soft, silky hair that frames your lips and strong chin... It makes those eyes quite prominent and emphasizes your smile... when you allow yourself to show one, that is..." He brushed the back of his hand along the sharp curve of Ebenezer's face as he brushed through the hair chiseling his jawline. He passed a finger over his lips making Ebenezer recoil slightly but he did offer a faint smile to it, Francis continued. "Hmm, I also see sharp, high cheekbones that accent your Roman nose very handsomly and soft, dense heavy silk that crowns your face. It's slicked back with a clean scent of pomade creating an arch of bangs forming a swooping, crashing wave..." Francis fingertips brushed along these features as he explained them like a medium to a canvas, pulling a small smile from the man as he grinned shyly, his face reddening. Francis finished his trail by threading his hand through the back of Ebenezer's heavy locks, relishing the texture and the way Ebenezer hummed to his hair being played with. "Don't you agree?"

"I don't know..." Ebenezer barely spoke, only stealing quick glances from his now very flushed face. "Maybe..."

"Alright, well clearly you need more convincing...." Francis hands trailed the elements as he explained further. "I see a slender but strong neck with pronounced muscles within it. A sharp set of clavicle bones that connect your chest creating the platform for a set of firm, square shoulders. A slim but toned torso with an ideal curved chest and soft dusting of hair that decorates it. It is firm, with subtle glandular tissue under two pale, pink areolas..." Francis hands slipped down his form as he teased the curly hair and gave his chest a squeese making Ebenezer grunt stiffly with an uncomfortable squirm to the odd sensation yet he kept quiet as Francis continued. "I see a smooth abdomen with a soft hint of a happy trail that darkens the lower it goes..." His fingers traveled down the soft path of hair that became more coarse the lower they descend making Ebenezer's muscles ripple there as the sensation sent a warm stir down his belly the closer they got to his core. He took a deep breath while the man persisted exploring. "This is paired nicely with a narrow, svelte waist that's sharply accented by hips covered in solid thigh muscles..." Francis fingers rest along the dips in Ebenezer's pelvic bones with a fluttering tease making him jump from the hypersensitivity that skin had. The sensation forced a loppy smile to twist with a small snicker as Ebenezer squirmed making himself all the more blood-red. A mischievous simper grew on Francis face as he rest over his shoulder watching that. "I know of more ample features southward but you're still wearing trousers..." One hand fell back to slide down the curve of Ebenezer's backside with a cupping motion as his voice turns sharply metallic. "Do you need more convincing?"

"Mm, so you want my trousers off just so you can keep describing me?..." Ebenezer hummed staring into the mirror thoughtfully, now with much softer eyes.

"Do you want me to stop? Perhaps you have something positive to say now to take over..."

"No, no keep going..." He teased a small smile with eyes that tempted devilry. "You're far better at it than I would be..."

Francis smiled with a leer as he released a husky hot breath along Ebenezer's neck that gave the man a stir in his chest. "Very well... though that could land you in some trouble..."

"Oh dear, would it? How dreadful..." Ebenezer hummed warmly, staring through the reflection and playing alarm with a rebellious smile that teased teeth.

There was a heavy handed squeeze to his ass in response to such leaking sarcasm, making Ebenezer lerch forward with a sharp inhale. The hand resting on his hip then snaked down his inner thighs, teasing the form between them causing a grunt to expell out of the man who was trying hard to remain resistant. Lips brush against his throat line feeling the pulse beneath with a purr into his ear. "Or I can just show you..." Francis cut a predatory stare at him through the mirror that gave Ebenezer chills in a most raw way.

"Hmm, I don't know..." Scrooge grinned as he leaned back into his lover, his head resting in the bend of his shoulder as he revealed the full legnth of his neck. He applied a soft grind of friction against the warm body behind him as he stared the man down through the reflection behind him with sultry bedroom eyes. "I might be convinced if you keep going..."

Francis growled, lowering his head to inhale the sweetly spiced scent trails along the exposed legnth of neck made vulnerable to him. "Mm, is that so.. Who's the one who can't contol themselves now?..."

"Oh that's still you, I'm not doing a damn thing. You're the one who's getting handsy..." Ebenezer grinned with a chiding tone as he continued to ever so slighly grind into him. "I simply asked for compliments..." He cut his eyes through the reflection with a demure exchange.

"Mmm, you dirty tease... Don't play innocent..." Francis growled, his deep blue eyes darkening as his head dipped forward, his metallic voice deepening. He nipped the legnth of his neck making Ebenezer stifle out a groan he tried to hold in.

Francis paused to give the heat of Ebenezer's neckline a soft inhale again, rolling the sweetly spiced scent of his natural musk through his olfactories, his eyes sharpened from the chemistry detected. Its naturally sweet, vanilla-spiced redolence was permiating the air around him with seasoned vigor and strong eros, an enticing signal to come satisfy. What Francis, in his animalistic reaction to it, responded with his equally wanting signal back.

"The scent of your erotic carnality is melting off of you with a warm ardor." He growled while exhaling the intoxicating scent slowly through his lips to savor it again through taste. "I could decimate you, see what you've done?..." He pulled Ebenezer's hips hard against his loins to let the man feel the tented arousal pulse agains't him. Like Ebenezer already didn't know. "You've been grinding yourself agains't me wanting to be railed like an animal in heat and you're about to make me give it to you like one."

"Mmm, all that from a smell?" Ebenezer hummed amused with a chuckle and snarky grin. "You already are an animal, nose and all. That is simply another fact-"

His voice cracked; however, as the little nips along the tender flesh of his neck turned to a hard bite. Ebenezer cried out, yet not necessarily in pain, as his body limply caved. If not for the hands holding his weight about his axis prone, he would have went to the floor.

Ebenezer crashed forward onto the dresser with a wet gasp as Francis bent forward to follow him, not letting go, making the furniture rock from the impact as Ebenezer held onto its edge for dear life. He felt his knees buckling from the latching drawl to his throat that sent shivers down him in a wild, warming rush of heat to spark fire in his nethers.

"Bloody hell..." He gasped out barely through a despirate breath of air to cool his heating core.

Ebenezer looked up to his reflection seeing how red faced he was now and breaking sweat across his forehead and chest. His bangs had broke loose from the hard motion forward and swung in his face. He watched as his lover staked a claim to his neck so ferverously wild like the man was attempting to consume him. Ebenezer cut his eyes away and simply breathed, his own trousers having become uncomfortably tight. This action alone had sent his state of semi-firm arousal from teasing, to rock solid with the skin pulling back to its full legnth within seconds.

The more it persisted so feverently commanding him, Ebenezer felt himself boiling to a throbbing ache as he swallowed hard and tried to keep the noise this exploit from him to a minimum. He was slightly resentful how well this move entrapped him into immediate subdual and made him so pliable to a level he felt he would bend to any wish wanted while it was being done to him. It was as lethal as a gun to his head but worse, this took all his sensibilities away and left him lost in a fog of euphoric wantonness...

It was also definitely going to leave a smarting mark he would struggle to hide yet he was in no means capable of, or wanting, to stop it. Ebenezer's body yield into the declaration entirely as he rocked agains't the rolling of hips that pressed the hardened length agains't his backside. Its legnthy form throbbed, craving the friction he could provide.

This luring draw of motion caused him to cut his eyes back to their reflection again as Ebenezer watched the hand that had been teasing his loins now slip up his stomach and dip into his trousers while the other made quick work of the buttons to drop the clothing to the floor. It was damn near impressive to watch, the man was skilled with his hands, there was no denying that.

It was also sensual just to see him work with his fingers in such an artful way. Powerful hands that showed great dexterity of a surgeon capable of malice to carve through flesh with such brutality yet could be so skillfully smooth on a lover. It was exciting to watch in fact, the anticipation his spectatation caused set fire to his arousal all the more as he observed the final bit of clothing drop off his hips.

The hand slipped around and firmly grasped the base of his freed member as Ebenezer bit his tongue to keep from screaming from the firey energy that action pulsed through him. Instead he bucked back into the hard form behind him with a wounded groan, and by the motion of fabric being undone about it, he knew was being freed for him.

Once freed, Ebenezer felt the pronounced shaft pulse a burning heat between his thighs that transfered to his own as he held his breath in anxious anticipation. Those same fingers are the only thing to touch him; however, as they return to caress his curves from behind and gently trail up his thighs to dip between his legs. Two broad digits slip up inside him unforgivingly but with great ease.

He had to admit the sight of this happening to him in this reflection did excite him wildly but he would never utter such a shameful admittance. Yet it was becoming ever difficult to rip his eyes away from the regard, the more intense it got. What more as he saw Francis produce a small vile of oil from his personage and dip his fingers into it. The subtle action made Ebenezer shiver at the intimate signal it declared as he heard fabric jostle loose behind him.

Ebenezer's eyes widened with a gasp and a frail cry but he spread his thighs further apart, invitingly. His heart pound like a war drum in his chest as the erotic pain ebbed away to a burning ache. A bolt of pleasure surged through him as the digits drove deeper, past the knuckles to collide across his prostate, sending him rocking forward with a wail of platitudes.

Seeing his pupils dilate to a wild carnality in his reflection while he rode this pleasure, sent Ebenezer to bend his head downward and let out a low, rolling growl, staring himself down with feral intensity.

"Mmm... what a wild thing you are... You're loving this, aren't you..." He heard purred in his ear with a tone of sheer raw venery as Francis released his neck to nip at his lobe, capturing every moment. "You sound like you need a demon let out of you..."

"I got a devil trying to get in is more like it." Ebenezer stifled out through a sharp, wounded noise as he took in a breath, still shivering from the unforgiving assault to his sensitive organ that persisted. He redirect that same ferine stare through the reflection toward him as he was being worked over.

Francis chuckled with a sinister grin that rivaled Luicifer himself. "Perhaps it's that you like seeing me fuck you." His eyes cut at him through the mirror with a knowing glare. "It excites you. You're leaping in my hand and your pulse is like wild horses." He lapped his tongue across his neck to taste the wound he left behind making Ebenezer whimper. With the fingers deep in their punishing rythym, Francis tugged the two digits forward inside him in a calling way, making Ebenezer almost choke as he shuttered in response. "I'm right, aren't I? Just say it..."

Scrooge grunt with a hardened expression, looking away. "Of course I am! You got half your hand up my ass tempting me and my bodies reacting to it!" He growled out, his entire self quivering in his churning boil.

"Do you not like it? You're riding my fingers like an animal. These digits are skilled but damn... its not even my cock yet." He twitched his fingers inside Ebenezer again making him shiver with a shaky cry as the man's wild eyes dart back to their reflection while Francis observed him further. "You seem enamored with your reflection watching me do this to you... Just can't take your eyes away just as before, but now, you find pleasure in looking at yourself, excited by the sight of your aroused nakedness being ravished..." His eyes leered piercing into him like the devil himself read his mind, so much so Ebenezer had to look away as he grunt under such a gaze.

"Just don't stop..." He barely request, a deeply mortified look on his face from the accusation but he didn't deny it.

Just then, the fingers that were causing such fire removed as Ebenezer whined in protest for them to be replaced. Yet with an adjust and a hard thrust as those fingers firmly grasped his hips, they were as his lover's solid shaft drove straight into him.

Ebenezer yelped out from the startling pressure of his channel being filled so quickly as he wretched, quivering uncontrollably. He clenched his eyes shut as hot tears sprung to his eyes against the sudden overcrowding invasion, yet he arched his back and thrust backward, further impaling himself. The burning pain warped to an erotic one as the member filling him rammed his prostate hard sending him throwing forward again, now spinning in a flurry of blazing euphoria.

"God!..." Ebenezer wailed out through a gasp of air that ended in a broken cry.

"Yes?" Francis purred behind him in a seductive lull.

Ebenezer glared dazed bewilderment into the reflection as he struggled to stay coherent. "...That was horrid..." He choked out. "If anything, you're the true devil incarnate." He snipped, his voice quite high in his distress.

Francis smiled viciously pleased by that. "Well at this current moment, am I not your God?... Though I suppose if you wish... worship such as this fits the devil quite nicely, it's practiced even..." With another hard thrust he fully entered him as Ebenezer whined out caught between rapture and misery. He felt his cock leap in the tight grip that offered no friction, his precum held inside by tight fisted denial as the rocking motion continued deep inside his viscera endlessly stimulating him. The aching pulse intensified, setting his core to blaze in bridled agony as he felt himself boiling over, threatening to destroy his grip on reality if denied any further. All the while, Francis continued humming temptations in his ear. "So be it God or Devil of your choosing, I can give you all the pleasure you want, all you have to do is pray to me for it..."

"I'm going to... please..." Ebenezer barely managed to whimper out through a long drawl. His head lulled dizzily as he gasp for air staring back into the reflection pleading, his face blood red and in tears. His hair clung to his face and mingled with sweat and saliva.

"Hmm... I believe that was a combination of both an acknowledgement and a request, please be more specific..." Francis lulled with an edge of amusement.

Scrooge groaned out in frustration as he spoke between despirate gasps for air. "Hard to- talk with you -buried up my ass!" He cried out again as the shaft pulled half way out to rammed hard over his spot stimulating him over and over until the reflection he was looking at started to blur dizzily. The constraining force built to intolerable duress as he felt he might faint from the maddeningly, pressurized need for release that was held captive. "I can't take it anymore! Please!" Ebenezer rocked agains't the hand that held his member so tightly, not allowed even his own devoted friction to slide the skin between it and escape the erotic torture.

None was given as only fingertips began to relentlessly tease the nerves under the head, taking full advantage in the knowledge being uncut these nerves were wildly sensitive. He was just edged along a hairbreadth from climax over and over for what felt like an eternity in hell as his whole body shook violently.

Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped from his soaked hair across his face as he pant heavy breaths, despirate for relief from the fire incinerating his core as the licking lusty flames became agonizing in his roused state what felt a brush away from despirate relief. He could barely take in a breath as he swallowed hard to form words he knew was demanded.

"Your taunting is burning me alive!... Please, I'm right on the cusp...Please, I need it... Please, give me relief..." He managed more submissively as his slate eyes cut through the reflection expressively pleading for release.

"Mmm, how I love the sight of you begging..." Francis eyes sharpened dangerously with a carnal growl. One deep enough it rumbled through the man beneath him as the hand along his hip gripped tightly, nails digging into the tender flesh.

"Stop..." Ebenezer groaned out loudly with a wail while panting his breath, writhing in his need.

"Stop?" Francis tilt his head curiously as his rythym slowed and the hand about Ebenezer's cock started to pulled away with a fluttering tease of fingers. "You want me to stop?..."

"NO!!! Don't, please!- Ugh..." Ebenezer whined out pitifully, wild eyes dart about in delirium for a moment, terrified at the thought of being left like this. "You're confusing me - stop torturing me, please!..." He plead out with a loud whimper.

"Please what?" Francis coerced as Ebenezer grunt uneasily, writhing about in his conflagration like he was truly burning. "Look at the reflection and tell me exactly what you need..." Francis purred as he leaned down to kiss a trail at his heated neckline and intake his despirate lustfulled redolence. He paused a moment to admire the sweat slickened back muscles ripple as Ebenezer's spine twist in his internal battle.

"Francis, please..." Ebenezer whined pitifully, utter humiliation on his face making him flush more, if it were even possible.

"Say it or you're not getting it..." Francis tone spoke through a metallic rasp. "My endurance can roll you across coals for the next hour if necessary."

Ebenezer whimpered resistently with a brief struggle, gasping his breath as he blinked back tears from his blood-rushed face. Reluctantly, he shot his eyes into their reflection with a sigh. Sheepishly cutting his eyes to him, he surrendered to despirately plead with demeaning language that made him knowingly uncomfortable. "...Please let me cum...."

Mildly pacified Francis hummed with a raised brow. "Do you like the sight of yourself in the mirror now?"

"Yes!" Ebenezer wailed.

"How about you tell the reflection what you like..." His smile grew with a hard stare.

Ebenezer grunt out miserably at the insistence of more but he was despirate as he continued with a subdued stare and said whatever he thought would get him past this hurdle. "I love it when you finger fuck me, it s-stimulates me wild. I love it when you edge me senseless and fuck my ass hard."

Francis chortled with an expression of suprise through the reflection. "Mmm, my my. I would have settled for you simply complimenting yourself but that is satisfyingly relishing to hear..." He licked his lips with a lusty grin.

Ebenezer whined out loudly, despirately whimpering from his humiliation and scorching, roused confusion. "Please, please let me cum now..." He plead hard, writhing needful. "I did what you wanted. Please..." He whimpered into nonsensical frailties.

A lecherous grin grew. "Of course, my sweet little pet who loves getting his ass fucked hard..."

Ebenezer snarled a venomous exchange with a bitter growl in response to that but felt his member squeezed hard as he shivered, losing all sense of anger as he was slammed forward and drove into even harder by quick sucessions until his vision was violently spinning. Ebenezer rocked his hips against the motion as he felt his shaft being stroked now, a thumb massaging the delicate nerves of his swelled, throbbing head as built up precum was allowed to pool out as the skin rocked past it in quick, violent rythyms.

Shamefully lured, Ebenezer glanced up to watch this spectacle, to see himself being manipulated and being ground hard into. The observation of that was all it took to send him over the edge in a flash of vibrant colors.

He cried out with a quiver, doubling forward as his abdomen muscles clenched to a point they quaked. White, erotic agony rushed hot causing pure blazing energy to flood over him like a crushing heatwave as he released copious amounts in the hand and across the surface below him intensely.

After spending the last dregs he could out of his debilitating climax, Ebenezer collapsed forward, gasping air as his woosy lust-crazed mind absently dissappeared into dazed beatitude. His body now limp in the man's grip as he continued to drive into him, both hands now latched on his hips.

The still rapid convulsions of his internal muscles spasming wildly through his channel finished off his lover as Francis growled with a low purr as he leaned over Ebenezer, emptying heat into him. Thrusting deep inside his vitals to ensure it stayed there as Ebenezer yelped weakly to the roughness in his sensitive state while he was still being fed off the crests of his fierce orgasm.

Laying there Ebenezer felt the hot viscous, fluid pour into him as he only breathed and tried to come back from the foggy haze what held him helplessly interned in its depths. In this state of limbo, he rest his cheek along the refreshingly cool, hardwood surface, still seeing stars.

After his final thrusts ensuring he had fully inundated his deep insides, Francis finally took in a recouping breath as he leaned forward to kiss the back of Ebenezer's neck. He continued to hold the man up by his hips as he doubt Ebenezer could stay upright on his own now.

Weakly shaking, Ebenezer gasped out as Francis straightened causing the member still resting inside him to move about his insides as Francis gave him a soft pat to his rump. He pulled out with a slick noise making Ebenezer groan gutturally, partly in relief and partly feeling oddly empty inside now.

Leaning over the man, Francis stared into their reflection as he mussed his fingers through Ebenezer's soaked hair. He slipped his hand down the man's face to lift his head off the hardwood by fingers nestled under his chin to force eye contact through the mirror. All the while Ebenezer whined to being moved at all.

"See how well sexed you look in that reflection? Tell me that's not a thing of beauty." Francis voice lulled warmly seductive.

Ebenezer's lids barely open, still trying to catch his breath but he gave the reflection a serious regard. He saw the soft afterglow of sweat along his skin, his redden blood-rushed face, damp hair in strands about his head and in his face mingled with sweat, saliva and tears from the sheer exertion his body just ruptured. He huffed weakly with laced sarcasm but he tugged a faint smile. "That is an outright mess, that is what I see."

"Mm, well I see beauty. Perhaps a messy one but one I'm proud to have made love to such a state." Francis brushed his own shambled hair back over his ear as he leaned over Ebenezer again to trail his hand along his spine, following the twitching muscles under the skin. His hand then slipped around Ebenezer's side and underneath to hold his chest, feeling the strong heart pounding inside. "Now... Do you need me to carry you?" He grinned as he brushed the messy hair out of the man's face to regard him further. "Or are you going to try and walk to the bed like a newborn fawn?"

Ebenezer pant his breath, still weakly quivering, but he managed a disheveled, seething glare as his tone rolled husky gravel. "Do shut up..." He stared bitterly resentful the man above him was damn near unphazed by the same activity. "You're really proud of this, aren't you... tormenting me to such a state..." He weakly spoke between asthenic breaths.

"Particularly so, yes." Francis flashed an arrogant smile as his breathing was much more controlled. "You seem to enjoy it... Afterall, you yourself said you love being edged along and fucked hard." His grin grew still relishing in that admittance he would adoringly weaponize as an upset look of regret twist Ebenezer's face. "You love begging for it and being tormented along because it gives you such an intense moment like this, you can't deny it..."

"Ridiculous..." Ebenezer scoffed with a hard stare, not exactly refuting his avow. With a sore groan, he went to try and upright himself. Soon as he does so; however, his knees buckle, sending him jerking forward as ready hands quickly caught him about the waist. Ebenezer hesitated any further movement, his arms quivering as he gripped onto the wood surface with wide eyes as he thought a moment, panting softly.

It would be far more embarrassing to fall trying to be stubbornly independent so he conceded.

"On second thought... You did this to me, so yes, you carry me." He spoke masking his prostration with lofty arrogance.

"Of course..."

In one fluid swoop, Francis snagged him in a hoist, one hand caught under his knees as the other support his back to hold tight onto his side. Ebenezer startled a yelp to being lifted off the floor so unexpectedly quick as he clung onto Francis shoulders despirate for grounding balance. Ebenezer then gave him a stern side eye.

"You did that a little too well..." He stared at him, again resentfully. "I seem to hardly weight anything to you, I'm not that thin... I'm larger than the average man."

"Mm... You are quite light, I'm sorry to tell you hight doesn't add much in terms to body mass." Francis wavered with a smirk as Ebenezer frowned bitterly. "Though I am used to lifting dead weight bodies in the ward for my lecture preparations, it keeps me quite fit in between exercise."

Ebenezer stared at him queasily uneasy. "Please don't share something like that while you're holding me in a likewise manner..."

Francis huffed a chuckle but agreed as they continued across the room. When they moved past the desired bed; however, Ebenezer started to stir warily in his grip.

"Wait, the bed is over there- Francis! Where are you taking me-?!" He started to squirm, looking about frantically.

"The bath..."

"OH!" Scrooge groaned out with a growl and a hard shove. "You tricked me! I thought you were taking me to bed!"

Francis smirked, flashing teeth. "I did not, I never said I was taking you to the bed. I just assumed you would have taken yourself there."

"Obviously yes, I would have! Francis put me down now!" Ebenezer whined with a pout and a wriggling squirm, yet with the grip Francis had on him, he wasn't going anywhere. Too exhausted and physically spent to continue fighting, he surrendered but he didn't stop protesting. "Not right now, Francis please! Let me have a moment to recover from all that for God's sake!"

"You think I'm putting your sweaty, sordid mess on my good sheets? I think not." Francis retorted with a high brow side eyeing him.

Scrooge gasped with an icy stare. "How rude, you did this! Besides... I thought you were going on about how beautiful it was moments ago, now it's not?" He cocked a brow side eyeing him back.

"Not as far as cleanliness is concerned and I'm taking one with you. Come now, you'll enjoy it."

"I already have..." Ebenezer cut his eyes up to him smartly with a wicked grin.

"Now you're being cheeky."

"Hm... so... were taking a bath together?" His eyes narrowed with a hum rumbling in his throat. "Why do I feel like this is going to be more than a wash..." Francis grinned as Ebenezer groaned with a hard eye roll. "Christ, HOW?... No Francis please, I cannot..."

"We can take a nap afterward and I'll fix dinner when we wake up, you can enjoy a nice nightcap while you wait. How does that sound?" He spoke in a tantalizing lull Ebenezer always found so dangerously enticing.

Both brows raised at that offer as Ebenezer craned his head back slightly surprised. "A midday nap AND your cooking?" Ebenezer's eyes perked up immediately with excitement as he nulled his thoughts with a hum, bouncing a single leg in consideration. "Now that I could negotiate for..."

Francis chuckled with a tsk. "You are gratified by the most simplest things, Ebenezer. It's quite charming..." He kissed Ebenezer's forehead while they dissappeared into the wash room to draw a bath, luckily Francis home wasn't in short supply of ample hot water.

[cvt2dvm]

Buy This, Buy That, "Less than a coffee now!" It seems like every time we're on social media, we're bombarded with products, fashion trends, advertisements, and new "aesthetics" that, conveniently for drop shippers and fast fashion empires, require us to buy a whole new wardrobe and interior design scheme. So, here are my top 10 tips for breaking the cycle.

Figure out who you are. Rather than the you the advertising algorithms tell you that you are.

Go through your current closet, jewelry box, vanity, and decor. Keep what makes you happy, and toss, sell, or donate what doesn't anymore. Yes, this includes those impulse dopamine-seeking purchases and the "little treats."

Make a list of things you realistically do in your day-to-day life that may need closet supplementation from what a standard "capsule" wardrobe would offer you. Church clothes? Sport-specific clothing? Officewear? Do you do a lot of formal events that require attire for certain dress codes? Do you do date night and girl's night outfits? For example: I need dependable workwear for after-hours farm calls so I keep about 5 items in my wardrobe that fit that function. I also keep a bit more workout clothing than some would since I work out 6 days a week.

In the same vein as number 3, are there places where you can increase cross-over between categories in your wardrobe? For example, choosing well-fitted tees that can be worn as under-scrubs and as casual tops around town?

Figure out if there are colors and shades that you look best in/feel the most confident in. There isn't a need to do the one-size-fits-all color analysis that TikTok and Instagram are constantly trying to sell you on reels based on the seasons. Figure out which colors you are complimented the most in, that you feel the best in, and that inspire the most positivity for you. Narrow it down to 4 or 5 colors for both colors and neutrals (blacks, grays, whites, nudes). I did 2-3 colors per season, plus my standard neutrals.

Figure out your style. Personally, I tend to have a fashion that draws inspiration from American traditional, southern prep, English country attire, and the fashions of foxhunting. Think Orvis, LL Bean, Cordings, Dubarry, Talbots, Tory Burch, Ted Baker, and Lily Pulitzer. In decor, I tend to be drawn toward colonial era antiques, leather upholstery, campaign furniture, heavy fabric drapes, ox tongue wood finishes over cherry, oil paintings, black marble, gray field stone, and polished brass. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but I found it by perusing fashions, furniture, decor, even TV and movies for things I adored.

Quality over Quantity: This is a big one. Rather than buying a new outfit every time I wanted to do something, or buying each cute accessory I saw and wanted to buy on impulse, I started getting really picky about the materials and workmanship in the things I purchased. Cheap may look good for a brief time, but it fades quickly. The things I buy now need to fit well, be of good material, be tailorable, have finished seams and edges, and be of substantial enough material that I trust that it will last me 2-10 years depending on the item, with some items being things I intend to only buy once in the cases of jewelry and scarves.

Cool off: This product looks like it would solve XYZ problem for me! Will it? Put it on a wish list and save it for later. If you still think it's going to revolutionize your life a month later, work it into the budget.

Quit buying from TikTok Shop, the majority of the stuff on there is drop-shipped junk made to capitalize on a quick trend, which is also part of why there's always pressure added to the pitch "before it sells out" "For less than the price of a coffee" "While the sale is on" if a product can be sold for $9 when it's usually $100, the deal is too good to be true, and the product won't last. Same goes for Shien and Forever 21 if I'm honest.

Focus on 1-2 items per season, an accessory, a cute top or a fun dress. Reducing my consumption to replacement levels plus 1 or 2 items has drastically cut my spending on fashion and decor. I also check second-hand stores first.

I went ahead and included some inspiration boards for you, one with pretty typical accessories for me, one to help better visualize my fashion sense, and then 2 palettes, my colors and my neutrals. I hope you all liked this, I'll also be doing a breakdown of my jewelry, vanity, and closet here soon.

Love,

[uniqueinteriordesignbd]

The Art of Layering: Mastering Textures in Interior Design

Layering textures in interior design is a powerful technique that adds depth, warmth, and visual interest to any space. By thoughtfully combining various materials, you can create a harmonious and inviting atmosphere. Here’s how to master the art of layering textures in your home.

1. Understand Texture Basics

Before diving into layering, it’s essential to understand the different types of textures:

Tactile Texture: This refers to how a surface feels, such as smooth, rough, soft, or hard. Materials like velvet, leather, wood, and metal all contribute to tactile texture.

Visual Texture: This is about the visual appearance of surfaces, which can create the illusion of texture. Patterns in fabrics, wallpaper, and art can enhance the visual texture of a room.

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2. Start with a Base Layer

Begin by establishing a base layer to anchor your design.

Choose a Neutral Foundation: Walls, flooring, and large furniture pieces should start with neutral tones and simple textures. This allows other textures to stand out without overwhelming the space.

Consider Materials: Opt for durable materials like wood, stone, or neutral upholstery that provide a solid foundation for layering.

3. Incorporate Fabrics

Fabrics are one of the easiest ways to add texture to your space.

Mix Textiles: Combine different fabrics, such as cotton, linen, wool, and silk. Use a variety of patterns and weaves to create interest.

Layering Textiles: Use throw pillows, blankets, and area rugs to add softness and warmth. Don’t hesitate to mix patterns—stripes, florals, and geometric designs can all work together.

4. Add Natural Elements

Natural materials can bring a sense of tranquility and grounding to your design.

Incorporate Wood: Wooden furniture, beams, or accents add warmth and organic texture. Consider different finishes, from polished to reclaimed.

Use Stone and Plants: Incorporate stone elements like countertops or decorative pieces, and add greenery with plants to introduce life and texture.

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5. Play with Shapes and Forms

Varying shapes and forms can enhance the texture of a room.

Curved vs. Angular: Mix furniture with soft curves (like a rounded chair) alongside more angular pieces (like a square coffee table) to create a dynamic look.

Layered Decor: Use decorative objects of different shapes, such as bowls, vases, and sculptures, to add layers of interest.

6. Consider Lighting

Lighting can dramatically affect the perception of texture in a space.

Use Soft Lighting: Warm, soft lighting creates a cozy atmosphere that enhances the textures around it. Use lamps, sconces, and candles to create layers of light.

Highlight Textures: Focus on lighting that draws attention to textured walls, fabrics, or decor. Spotlights and up-lighting can create dramatic effects.

7. Incorporate Artwork and Decor

Art and decor are essential for adding personality and texture.

Choose Textured Art: Look for pieces with dimensional qualities, such as canvas paintings, sculptures, or textile wall hangings.

Layer Decor: Use shelves or mantels to display a mix of framed art, books, and decorative objects, varying the heights and arrangements for visual interest.

8. Maintain Balance

While layering is about variety, balance is crucial.

Avoid Overcrowding: Too many textures can overwhelm a space. Aim for a balanced mix of soft and hard, light and dark textures.

Create Focal Points: Use textured elements to draw the eye to a specific area, like a beautifully upholstered chair or a striking piece of art.

9. Experiment and Adapt

Interior design is an evolving process.

Test Combinations: Don’t be afraid to experiment with different textures and materials. Swap out pillows, rugs, or decor pieces to see what works best.

Seasonal Changes: Consider seasonal adjustments—light fabrics and bright colors for summer, and heavier textures and warmer hues for winter.

Conclusion

Mastering the art of layering textures can transform your home into a rich, inviting environment that reflects your style and personality. By thoughtfully combining materials, colors, and shapes, you can create a harmonious and dynamic space that feels both comfortable and visually appealing. Embrace the layering process, and watch your interiors come to life!

Related Post:  interior design company in dhaka

[lunasohma]

timepiece

[ ao3 / ff.net ]

Natori has an appointment.

to go with my headcanon

—

Natori is in a bit of a hurry, but what's new?

He takes the few steps down to the shop, then he's through the door, leaving the street’s noise behind. Whatever comes with him is soundly dampened, sinking into upholstery and wood.

The maze of furniture has shifted, even from last week. A sign of good business, right? Today, it's a hard right toward the familiar sound of the radio skipping in and out of frequency. Being just below ground level has more of an effect than he would expect.

The sights are new as Natori makes his way through. A set of high-backed dining chairs. Ornately carved end tables. A slightly imposing, towering armoire. Miraculously dust-free as usual, the low light catches on the polished wood.

In contrast, the wide plank of the floor has long since lost its varnished shine, its creaks and groans. The past couple of times Natori was here, Mori-san mentioned that it would soon need to be redone or replaced. Natori thinks it a shame but can understand the danger of old wood in a place like this, with glass cabinetry and ancient furniture.

Still, not yet, as these kinds of projects go. Time will tell, he’d said, and the irony is hardly lost here.

Natori ducks through the chandeliers. Brushing by the hanging crystals sets off a soft, tinkling song. Near the back of the shop, things start to shrink. After all, they must fit neatly into glass cases and displays, along narrow velvet-lined shelves.

“Natori-san. Just in time.”

The small, charming thought takes root in his mind. “A pun?”

The watchmaker’s smile is always easily given, and his response is playfully rueful. “I don’t think I, of all people, have any right to deny it.”

Natori laughs.

—

Antique furniture evaluation and restoration, watch and jewelry repair too. Natori suspects that Mori-san wears many hats as he has yet to meet his business partner.

He’s honored that Natori thinks so but says he’s happier dealing with the fine and finicky. With hooks, eyes, and chains. With miniature mechanism and tiny ticking gears. Better him than Natori, who would sooner lose patience with such little things.

An offer of tea is made though he has come to expect Natori’s answer.

“Unfortunately, I’ve got to run.”

“Keeping busy as usual.” Mori-san nods approvingly, then brightens. “That reminds me, I’ve just seen your latest drama!”

In short order, Natori’s modesty and a slight embarrassment flare up and Mori-san heeds none of it, going on to highlight all his favorite parts. Natori can only let his enthusiasm wash over him and finds that he is comfortable.

—

There are some vague stresses in the leather band that Mori-san diligently points out. Nothing major yet, no worries. Simply something to keep in mind for the future. Everything else is running just fine.

“So, there we are.” Natori’s left wrist regains the familiar weight. He’s missed it.

“Thank you, it’s always good to see you.”

“And to have your watch back, of course.”

“Only since you do such a good job.” And so, Mori-san is summarily humbled and they are even.

—

He doesn’t have much more time to linger so he retraces his path back to the front. The chandeliers sing their goodbye and the doorbell chimes its farewell.

Until next time, they say.

Natori looks forward to it.

[kmp-modernfurniture]

@hannespeer encapsulated the organic essence of an elegant European mountain retreat within the natural materials like walnut flooring, marble surfaces. and leather upholstery. The same materials create an exciting combination of colors and patterns that give this interior a modernist appeal.

In the midst of the warm, earthy tones of the brick walls and polished wooden accents we also have a sharp play of contrasts thanks to the bright golden motifs, rugged glass pendants, and mustard yellow rug. These elements also introduce a variety of textures from sleek metal and irregular glass to plush textile that keeps our senses alert.

[detailingbulls]

Detailing of Cars

Title: "Revitalize Your Ride: The Ultimate Guide to Car Detailing"

Introduction: Your car is more than just a means of transportation—it's an extension of your personality and style. Whether you're cruising down the highway or parked at the curb, your vehicle should shine inside and out. That's where car detailing comes in. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the world of car detailing, exploring everything from basic maintenance to advanced techniques that will leave your ride looking showroom ready.

Chapter 1: Understanding the Basics of Car Detailing

What is car detailing?

The importance of regular detailing

Basic tools and products you'll need

Chapter 2: Exterior Detailing Techniques

Washing and drying: The foundation of a clean car

Clay bar treatment: Removing embedded contaminants for a smooth finish

Polishing and waxing: Restoring shine and protecting the paint

Tire and wheel care: Making your wheels sparkle

Chapter 3: Interior Detailing Secrets

Vacuuming and steam cleaning: Banishing dirt and grime from carpets and upholstery

Leather care: Keeping your leather seats supple and luxurious

Dashboard and trim restoration: Bringing faded surfaces back to life

Odor elimination: Say goodbye to unpleasant smells for good

Chapter 4: Advanced Detailing Techniques

Paint correction: Removing swirls, scratches, and other imperfections for a flawless finish

Ceramic coating: Providing long-lasting protection and hydrophobic properties

Engine bay detailing: Making your engine shine like new

Chapter 5: Specialty Services and Add-Ons

Headlight restoration: Enhancing visibility and aesthetics

Glass polishing: Improving clarity and visibility

Paint protection film (PPF) installation: Shielding your paint from rock chips and scratches

Chapter 6: DIY vs. Professional Detailing

Pros and cons of each approach

When to DIY and when to leave it to the pros

Finding a reputable detailing service near you

Conclusion: Car detailing isn't just about making your vehicle look good—it's about preserving its value and ensuring it performs at its best for years to come. By following the tips and techniques outlined in this guide, you'll be well on your way to maintaining a car that turns heads wherever you go. So, roll up your sleeves, grab your detailing supplies, and get ready to revitalize your ride!

[inglenookinhabitants]

Untitled - Chapter 1

I lifted my right arm to adjust the wire frames slipping down my nose, nudging them back into their supposed natural resting spot on my bridge; supposed, as if it was, would they not stay put? Moisture clung to the thin skin of my face, beading into a layer of sweat, no matter how much I soaked it up with my sleeve. Crusted with a dark maroon substance, the thin, creamy linen of the foreign tunic I’m clothed in quickly became saturated rapidly by the slightest touch of liquid. As soon as I’ve dropped my right arm, a light itch begins to grow on the back of my left ear. I dare not raise my left arm to scratch it, directly after putting down my right; that would be too many large movements, and I’ve an overwhelmingly wary sense that drawing unwanted attention, for reasoning I can’t decipher myself, is prohibited; so I let it fester into an unbearable intolerance. I stared out the window instead, sheets of rain pouring down onto the steamy pavement, pounding the asphalt like a rhythmic drum. The humidity, now tangible, hangs like an obstruction of thickly woven tapestries under the midnight moon and the hope of a breath of a cool breeze was nothing more than an absurd idea concocted by wishful dreamers. No wind that even attempted to cut through the smog of the thick, wet atmosphere could withstand morphing into a furnace blast of heat and a perpetual icky dampness.

 Gargantuan windows, with cloudy glass panes held together by darkened steel framing, aged from neglect, that could have potentially allowed washes of golden sunlight to dance along the hundreds of leather-bound spines that rested in haphazardly unorganized defiance to proper alphabetical arrangement upon thick, dark, wooden shelving, sprawling throughout the quaintly sized space, were the only deviations from the uniformly similar dark, wooden walls of the building. My fate was seemingly to be suffocated by the very air I breathe; the smell of ageing paper, warm and wet leather, and moist, practically rotting, wood mingled together in a waltz, each one threatening to usurp the other in potency and offense, as they hopped through the damp stagnancy of the room and invaded my nostrils.

I don’t remember when I entered the library, or when I sat in the corner of the west wing in silence, atop a dilapidated, brown leather loveseat. Tears in the seat cushion suggested a dully serrated blade had been drug through the fabric, haphazardly and violently from the lack of precision and awkwardly inconsistent depth in the incisions below me. It was as if my consciousness began from the point in which my glasses began to slip down the trickling waterslide that is my face, I have no memory of entering this space, nor why I am perched atop such scraggly upholstery.

 I raised my left arm, enough time has lapsed between the last time I moved more than a considerable inch, rendering it permissible for me to take care of that itch. A crack from the east side of the building echoed through the narrow halls, a sickening impression, dripping with the notion that it was intentionally created, not accidentally occurred, that shot fear straight through to my bones. It’s officially time to go, I’m up and on my feet before I can even finish scratching that itch. Something primal is moving me forward, I know nothing of what made the sound, or why it’s jarred my subconscious to the point in which I feel like fleeing, but my footsteps intentionally light, unwittingly avoiding visibly weakened boards underneath me to not make a single sound. I have no possessions to collect, my hands free to grasp the edge of the roughly splintered banister, appearing to be part of what might have once been the staircase to the basement, except for the lack of an abundance of actual steps. Rather than smooth, polished mahogany as they once could have been, around two and a half of the steps are left at the very top, now worn and warped, with thick, steel nails jutting upwards from them. The basement is not an option anymore, I don’t want to know why the staircase has been torn up starting from the bottom, rather than the top, nor would I survive the leap down. Another crack, followed by a disgustingly wet squelch resounded throughout the building, and I have no choice but to exit onto the street.

My skin was soaked through within minutes of being underneath such a torrential downpour, the blackened clouds above remained static, overly plump and surging uncontrollably onto the earth. A heavy slam followed behind me as the hefty Roman doors, splintered through from the top and down to the midway point of their structure and sprinkled with the remnants of stripped dark burgundy paint, slammed the entrance to the library shut. A sliver of that midnight moon peeked through in the form of a dull, fading light behind the thick cover of the shadows, casting a dim illumination that proved just enough for my eyes to discern a path. I did not stand still, nor meander tranquilly underneath the night sky, rather I scrambled forward. The air was far more potent with viscous humidity out here than it ever was indoors, which in itself is a dubious claim, rendering it difficult to move swiftly. My legs felt weighted, as if I was trying to walk through the ocean’s waves. I couldn’t have been more than a hundred metres away from the library I came from, the first and last place I could remember occupying entirely, when a nauseating thud caused me to turn my head back.

Grotesquely thin, with pasty white skin pulled taught over its sharply elongated bones, a crouched form leaned laboriously against the windowpane of the library, the very one I was gazing out of in a feeble attempt to elicit a reason as to why I was here. Its curved spine heaved up and down stiffly, as if it took a great effort to execute each breath. Its elliptical skull was cradled between its gaunt knees, nodding back and forth ever so slightly. What it is so fascinatingly fixated on, I haven’t a clue as of now. I do not want to find out, and it hasn’t seen me yet, it would be best to keep moving forward, wouldn’t it?

Whatever it was that’s cradling itself on the floor of the library, I was fixated on, as if I’d entered a trance, coercing me to find a winsome attraction to the malformed organism in front of me. I was being beckoned to follow the intrigue that has blossomed out of such a sublime manifestation of all things wretched. Titillatingly offensive slurping noises continued to emanate from the building, at an outstanding volume. This thing was consuming something. After quite some time of being deluged by the rain, the thin, creamy linen draped across my shoulders and chest, covering my arms and up to just past the middle of my thighs, was plastered to my skin like a soaked film; a puddle of crystal-clear rainfall was beginning to pool around my bare feet and ankles. My concentration remained fixated upon this fanatical display of desperate famine. It had somehow robbed me of my movement, not even a twitch could exude from my muscles as I held my stance; though, unbeknownst to me, it was almost finished with its task at hand.

“Run.”

As if being funnelled directly into my ear canal, a bright, clear voice resounded through my head and jarred me from this trance I’d fallen into.

“Run. Run. Run. RUN. RUN. RUN.”

The warning sounds of a repetitive omnipotence was urging me ceaselessly to get on my way, and hastily; as if by sorcery, my focus became no longer entrapped on the creature before me, and my muscles no longer felt as though they’ve been atrophied in place. How silly would I be to ignore this censure towards my fascination? Without fail, the voice continued in my head, a broken record urging me to sprint fast and far away.

Achingly, the creature raised its awkwardly oblong skull from between its gnarled knees. “RUN,” echoed louder than the last. A spattering of some glistening red substance coated its gaunt ribs, dripping from its sunken chin, and coating the area around a cavernous opening on its supposed face, lined with a singular row of barbed teeth. “RUN,” the incessant voice called out again, a desperate waver powering it forward, as if it couldn’t muster anymore urgency than it already is. The fingers adorning this creature were long and willowy, double the length of its little palms in comparison, and they were clutching what could have once been a bone of sorts, fissured along its oblong shape and leaking the same red substance that the creature was drenched in. It raised its snack to those horrific jaws, elongated a blackened snake of a tongue, and began to messily slobber upon the bone, just as fixated as I was on it. This was not a meal I reckon I would want to be a part of under usual circumstances. “RUN,” the voice incessantly nattered at me, broken through the sound of strained sobs.

 The wire frames of my lenses had slipped too far down my face. Before I could reach to save them, they ceremoniously leapt from the tip of my nose and clattered to the pavement in a spectacular clamor. I no longer had a choice in whether I wanted to continue watching or not, for the show was over. The creature’s head whipped in my direction at such speed, the red slobber from its lips splattered against the windowpane in a dramatic fling. Now would likely be a good time to run.

[halechief]

grip, platonic, obviously. maybe even ... when she's ... y'know.... almost bleeding out : )

send “grip” to grip my muse’s jaw in your muse’s hand. @newsworth.

claire is not terribly familiar with the sound of gunshots.

or, maybe that's inaccurate. there is a memory tangled at the back of her mind, slotted somewhere before coming into her own, but after losing the last of her innocence - it sounds like the sharp single remark of a 1950 colt revolver, silence, and then a thud. the ringing of her own ears. further toward the front, there's the memory of lucas goodwin's attempt on her husband's life. five ear - splitting rounds, if she remembers right, ( she does. she's watched the footage over and over. two from lucas, not in succession, the second while being grappled to the ground. three from edward after he'd fallen. ) but over the cacophony of shouting, the chanting of no more wars, of f. u. underwood, and then the curdled, nauseating screaming, she couldn't say that of everything, it was the sound of the shots that stuck in her mind.

further still to the forefront, there is the sound of a lone bullet colliding with the ballistic glass of a motorcade, the crystalline shatter, the webbing crack that bloomed before she'd flattened against the leather upholstery. the furious beating of her own heart, the oceanic chorus of blood in her ears. stay down. stay down! shots fired. a hand at the side of her head, not quite touching, just preceding the weight of a body settling over her own. shielding her own. are you okay, madam president? are you alright? ( yes, she'd lied, with a vigorous shake of her head. ) and finally : lone star is safe.

( that time, the officer had lied. she never would be. she knows it, now. )

there is a level of familiarity, yes. but it still takes until the second shot, for her to recognize the sound for what it is.

pain emerges first, and quite vividly through the confusion of her delayed thoughts, radiating from her shoulder into her collarbone and throat, the reserved grey of her blouse darkening rapidly. the third catches her as she turns, an instant before her detail completes the convergence around her, searing along the side of her neck, and she distantly registers the sound of glass shattering somewhere behind her after the fact, muffled as though through layers of cotton. her hand lifts to her throat, and she is confused to find it already slick with blood, hotter than expected, dripping down her throat and disappearing into the open neck of her shirt. the fabric itself has been torn aside slightly, cool november air stealing along the spaces left bared, and as her vision finds the wavering image of her hand held up before her, stained red, redder by far than the paint she thinks to compare it to, she notes the thin tendrils of steam that rise from it, matching the mist of her exhaled breath.

she sways on her feet, and as the steps underfoot begin to rise rapidly to meet her, so too does she feel the pressure of several hands pressing her downward, their voices joined together with the noise of the crowd, only one left distinguishable above the din, for how close it is to her.

"claire." his fingers are not trembling when they try to grasp her face, turning her gaze to him, his body hunched, the two of them crammed together underneath the bodies that move to shield her again, that shield both of them. what does it take, claire wonders dimly, to value your life beneath another's? she wants to live. she knows it distinctly, feels the fact of it beating incessantly against the closing of her throat. christopher. she tries to say it, and cannot manage, her stained hand instead lifting to grasp his wrist as his fingers move to her throat, aided in the slide by the blood that wets them, and he is . . . so calm. so incredibly calm. she would have smiled, but in her periphery, she sees another body lying prone, polished shoes pointing up to the sky, and she doesn't know who they belong to. they could be edward's. they could be scott's. "claire, you're going to be fine. don't move. don't close your eyes. just look at me."

she does, until the moment that she can't. until the moment his quiet directions begin to fall on deaf ears. until her body goes weightless, grasping hands lifting her into the back of a vehicle, and her eyes blink, slowly, too slowly, and finally an edge of hysteria slithers into his voice. "claire. claire, no. keep your eyes open . . . stay with me. please."

[vishnuvardhankummetha]

Indulge Your Vehicle with a Luxurious Bubble Bath Experience

Welcome to City2City Mobile Detailing, where we take car care to the next level. Our team of professionals is dedicated to providing top-notch services that will leave your vehicle looking and feeling its best. In this blog post, we're excited to introduce you to our exclusive Bubble Bath service, designed to pamper your vehicle from top to bottom. So sit back, relax, and prepare to give your car the spa treatment it deserves.

Vacuum Carpets, Mats, and Seats:

The first step in our Bubble Bath service is to give your vehicle's interior a thorough vacuuming. Our team meticulously removes dirt, debris, and dust from the carpets, mats, and seats, leaving them fresh and revitalized. By eliminating unwanted particles, we create a clean foundation for the subsequent steps.

Shampoo Mats:

Next, we take care of your mats with our specialized mat shampooing. Our high-quality cleaning products are designed to penetrate deep into the fibers, effectively removing stains, dirt, and odors. We'll leave your mats looking pristine, enhancing the overall cleanliness of your vehicle's interior.

Bubble Bath Vehicle:

Now comes the exciting part – the Bubble Bath itself! Using our premium car wash products, we create a luxurious and foamy bath for your vehicle. This step not only cleans the exterior but also adds a layer of fun to the detailing process. The gentle bubbles work their magic, lifting away grime and leaving your car sparkling clean.

Wipe Leather or Vinyl:

After the Bubble Bath, we focus on the interior surfaces, specifically leather or vinyl components. Our detailers use gentle yet effective cleaning agents to wipe away dirt and dust, ensuring that your vehicle's upholstery retains its supple feel and attractive appearance. We pay close attention to detail to achieve impeccable results.

Dust & Clean Wipe the Dash, Console & Door Panels:

The next step involves dusting and cleaning the dash, console, and door panels. We employ specialized tools and products to remove dust particles and fingerprints, leaving these surfaces looking polished and immaculate. Our meticulous approach guarantees a flawless finish that you'll be proud to showcase to your passengers.

Clean & Dress Wheels & Tires:

Your vehicle's wheels and tires deserve some extra attention too. Our experts will diligently clean and degrease the wheels, removing brake dust, dirt, and grime. Once cleaned, we apply a premium tire dressing to give your tires a deep, rich shine, making them look as good as new.

Clean Windows & Door Jambs:

Crystal clear windows and spotless door jambs are essential for a truly pristine vehicle. Our team ensures that every window is cleaned to perfection, eliminating streaks and smudges. Additionally, we pay attention to the door jambs, removing dirt and grime that tend to accumulate in those hard-to-reach areas.

Wax With Our Exclusive #MagnificentWax:

To provide long-lasting protection and a stunning finish, we conclude our Bubble Bath service with our exclusive #MagnificentWax. Our premium wax not only enhances the shine of your vehicle's exterior but also acts as a barrier against environmental elements. The result is a glossy and protected finish that will make heads turn wherever you go.

In Conclusion, At City2City Mobile Detailing, we believe that every vehicle deserves a little indulgence. Our Bubble Bath service goes beyond the ordinary car wash, elevating the experience to a luxurious spa-like treatment. From vacuuming and shampooing to the exclusive #MagnificentWax, we take care of every detail to ensure your vehicle looks and feels its absolute best. So why wait? Treat your car to a pampering session today and enjoy the benefits of a clean, refreshed, and protected vehicle. Contact us now to schedule an appointment and let us transform your ride into a true masterpiece.

[mintcardetailing]

Car Interior Detailing Melbourne

Car interior detailing in Melbourne offers a premium service to rejuvenate your vehicle's interior, ensuring a clean, fresh, and like-new appearance. These services include deep cleaning of carpets, seats, and upholstery, leather conditioning, dashboard polishing, and odor removal. Skilled professionals use high-quality products and advanced techniques to eliminate dirt, stains, and allergens. Whether you want to maintain your car's value or simply enjoy a pristine driving experience, interior detailing is essential. Melbourne's detailing experts cater to various needs, from basic clean-ups to comprehensive interior makeovers, leaving your car spotless and comfortable. Experience exceptional care for your vehicle’s interior today!