#into the washer with you grey coat

[meowmeowriley]

Ghost wants a dog. He's thought about it for a while, done some research, put out feelers. He's allowed to have a dog where he live, has a house to himself not five minutes from base. Waste of space, he used to think, but space enough for a dog.

He needs a big dog. He's a big lad. When some people think "big dog" they're thinking of a German Shepherd Good dogs, he's sure. But only 40 kilos, max. He needs something bigger, he thinks.

At first, he thought he'd like himself a Rottweiler. Hefty. Big bodied and boisterous. Easily trainable if you've got the time and the grit, both he figured he had in spades, so long as he wasn't on an op. But then he read about tail docking and, well... he couldn't bring himself to think about it any more. Those poor puppies, he thinks.

He goes home with Soap, visiting the MacTavish farm. They're friends, he wants to see the sheep, he tells Soap. Tells himself. He won't admit that he just wants to spend more time with Johnny.

The MacTavish's have Border Collies to herd their sheep. Practical. Cute, he likes the pups, but much too small for him. Not to mention intelligence to rival the rookies he had to whip into shape on base and tripple their energy. He wasn't sure he'd want to deal with that.

But while out, on their way into town, he saw it. A huge dog standing amongst someone else's flock, head heald high and nose in the wind. Soap knew the farmer from his childhood, drove them up the lane when he caught Ghost staring. Due to his staring, Ghost had missed the sign they passed, though Soap didn't. 'Pyrenees puppies 4 sale' it read.

The farmer smiled when he noticed John, the boy who left the fields to play soldier and came back a man. John introduced him as Lieutenant 'Ghost' Riley. Ghost rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. "Simon. Saw your dog in the field, never saw one like it. Wanted to know more." A short introduction, straight to the point.

The response was the opposite. The farmer gave him what felt like his life's story. Took what seemed to Ghost to be a year before he got to telling him about the dog, a Great Pyrenees, apparently. A large bodied, heavy white coated livestock guardian breed. He had two, the one in the field was the sire, the dam was in the barn. As he spoke, he lead the two men towards that very barn.

The farmer entered first, to separate the mother from the pups, for their protection, he said. In the barn was a sight that melted the hardened Lieutenant into a puddle of goo: a litter of snow white, fluffy puppies. Huge puppies. Sticks and hay and debris were stuck all over their fluffy bodies, Simon picked out what he could from the pups as they wallered and slobbered all over him.

Soap took over speaking to the farmer as Ghost slowly accepted that he would never again have crisp black clothes. That everything in his future would be covered in white fluff. The life expectancy of his washer and dryer had just been halved, he suspected.

The farmer explained their personality: that females tended to be more protective, they'd be a home body, not exactly a jogging companion. Loyal but brutish, often misconstrued as lazy. The beast out in the field with the flock would lay about and let the sheep climb all over him, wouldn't even bother to get up if someone hopped the fence like. But if he heard a sound he didn't like, or saw another dog or a predator in the field, he'd let loose a bark that'd freeze a man's blood, and hunt the perceived threat down come hell or high water. "And you should see her in action," the farmer laughed and shook his head. "Almost killed the male over getting too close to his own pups. Protective to a fault. 'S why I had to turn her out, you see."

Ghost saw an oversized cotton ball trip over it's own feet as it tried to get to his fingers because it needed to be pet. It was the only one without any tan or grey patch. Ghost saw his future best friend.

The farmer started to explain that these pups ought to be sent off to other farms, they wouldn't do as family dogs, but John walked him out of the barn. Explained that the man they'd left behind had no family to speak of, needed something other than work to focus on, and if anyone were able to handle the instincts and behavioral issues of a livestock guardian without livestock, it'd be Simon. The farmer agreed, so long as he made sure to choose a male, for safety reasons.

The two drove off another twenty minutes later, after Simon had listened with rapt attention to the farmer detailing everything about what the pups had been through up to that point, and what he'd need to do moving forward to make sure his little guy was happy and healthy, Ghost holding young Spirit to his chest.

From that point on all of Ghost's belongings had long white fur and drool on them, courtesy of his personal polar bear.

On the day of their wedding their ring bearer was their own pseudo-bear, and nobody left the venue without drool or fur on their clothes.

[thegeeksideofsr]

My Hero

Part of my Ford!Reader Verse

Warning, I know nothing about how restaurants work, or how chef-ing works, so I'm sorry. I am winging it.

As the waiter's and waitress's, and rest the kitchen staff were getting ready for the dinner rush to start, my partner, and co-head chef called in with a family emergency. Which is understandable, but leaves me in a difficult spot. So I do the logical thing, call in the big guns.

I pull out my phone and call Eliot's number I have memorized because of the amount of times I've seen it in my contacts.

It rings once, then twice, then it clicks, and his gruff voice answers.

"Hey, darlin'. What's up? Thought you were workin' tonight?"

"I am. But I need your help. Kate had a family emergency, and couldn't make it tonight. The dinner rush is gonna start soon, and I'm short staffed as it is and now Kate's not here and I really need your help."

"Babe, take a breath. I'm on my way."

I heave a heavy sigh as relief floods my body.

"Thank you, Eliot. I owe you one."

"I'm sure I can think of a few things you can do to repay me."

"I'm sure you can. See you when you get here."

I hang up and head to the kitchen to bring the rest of the staff up to speed on the incoming reinforcement.

We start getting the kitchen prepped, making sure everything is in it's place, heated up if needed, and ready to use.

Soon enough, Eliot arrives in his red chef's shirt, bandana holding his hair back, and looking handsome and ever.

He walks into the kitchen, saying hello to people as he passes. It's not the first times he's jumped in to help, and it won't be the last.

He makes his way over to me, greeting me with a kiss.

"Hey, sweetheart." He grumbles.

"Hello, my hero," I smile back at him.

The moment is cut short with a waitress coming in to announce the first few dinners had arrived, and the rush was starting.

*********

The night went off with out a hitch. Eliot fit right in with the rest of the crew, he was joking and laughing with everyone through out the night.

I had hoped to be able to end the night on a good note. Once the doors are locked, everything cleaned, ready for the day tomorrow, take Eliot back home and thank him thoroughly for him helping out tonight. But, it would seam that the world doesn't always work how we'd hoped.

The last table was being cleared of dishes, the rest already were washed and putt away, most of the staff had already gone home. It was just one of the waitress's, Cassie, the dish washer, Matt, Eliot and I.

Matt finished the last of the dirty dishes, while I tucked the clean ones into their spots. Eliot was cleaning up his spot by the stove. Cassie was by the kitchen doors watching the last party finish up.

"Finally," She sighs, then walks out.

She comes back a minute later, dishes stacked precariously. She walks over to Matt at the sink, hanging them off to him

"So, boss, one of the guys wants to talk to you."

"Who is it? Did he give you his name?"

"Jacob Grey. He and his friends already paid and tipped well. They look like a villains from a Bond movie."

I huff out a laugh.

"Does that make me a Bond girl?"

"If it so, does that make Eliot James Bond?" Matt asks from the sink.

Cassie and I look at Eliot, then share a look, before answering at the same time.

"Absolutely."

Eliot huffs a laugh then turns away. I know him well enough to know when he's flustered.

I turn back to Cassie, gesturing for her to lead the way.

We walk through the double doors into the main dinning room, Cassie leading the way to the last occupied table.

There are three men at the table, plus another standing it the door, hands clutched in front of his body. The four of them together gave of an eerie feeling.

I stand next to the table, hands crossed in front of me.

"Gentleman." I great with a nod and polite smile.

One of the men stood to great me, buttoning his suit coat, before offering his hand towards me.

"Jacob Grey. It's a pleasure to meet such an excellent chef." His European accent makes him off putting.

I shake his hand as I introduce myself.

"I appreciate the compliment, but I can't take all the credit. I'm part of an amazing team here."

"So modest. An excellent quality." He smiles at me in a way I would imagine a predator would smile at their prey.

"Can I ask what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Of course. I want to offer you a job of head chef at my estate."

His creepy factor just went up.

"Sir. I am flattered by your offer, but -"

"Excellent." He claps his hands together. " I'll have my assistant bring over all the documents necessary for you to start as soon as possible-"

" Mr. Grey! I did not accept your offer." I keep my voice low and even. "As I was saying, I am flattered by your offer, but I am happy here, therefore I will not be accepting your job offer. Thank you for dining here tonight. Good night gentlemen."

I turn and walk back to the kitchen, Cassie right behind me, finding Eliot on the other side. He has a look I've seen before. He's in hitter mode now.

"What? What is it?" I ask him.

"The man by the door. He's ex military. All four of 'em are armed too."

A chill runs down my spine. I turn to Matt and Cassie, who have matching anxious looks.

"Get your stuff and head out the back. We can handle this." I tell them.

" You sure?" Matt asks.

I nod.

"We'll be fine. Get outta here. It's late." Keeping my tone light.

They both nod, then head to get their stuff.

Once they are gone I turn back to Eliot, who's still discreetly watching through the window.

"Are they still there?"

"Yeah. Grey doesn't look to happy though. What ever you said he doesn't seem to like. What happened out there?"

"The prick offered me a job on his estate. I tried to tell him I was flattered, but didn't want the job. He interrupted, and said he'd send over his assistant to sign me on. I interrupted him, and told him I would not be working for him. Then came back here."

"I don't think he's used to being told 'no'." He responds with a smile. " And the other two men at the table with him are pretty heavy hitters as well. I recognize all of 'em from some jobs a while back."

"Before you met my dad?"

He let out a hum of confirmation.

"Grey was just a small fish back then. Clearly somethin' changed-"

He cuts his sentence off, he takes my hand in his, then leads me away from the door towards the back of the kitchen.

"El, what are you-"

My sentence gets interrupted by the kitchen door bursting open, and Mr. Grey walking in like he owns the place, his goon close behind.

He scans the room, his eyes landing on me, then on Eliot, who's placed himself between Grey and I, ready to fight if he has too.

"Eliot Spencer. Now this is a surprise."

"Grey." He acknowledges.

"This doesn't concern you, Spencer. This is between Ms. Ford and I."

"Ya see, it does concern me. Considering she's my wife." His tone is low and dangerous.

"I have some business to discuss with her-"

"She has already given you her answer. You gonna respect it, or we gonna have a problem?"

I watch Eliot's arm move up, as he grips the knife at his hip. The room goes quite.

Grey's eyes watch his movement, as does his goon. Clearly they know what Eliot is capable of, and are weighing the odds of crossing him.

Grey and Eliot stare at each other, Eliot calm as can be, but Grey is try to hide the fact he's scared.

"We're good." Grey growls out, then turns and walks out of the room.

His goon stays behind another moment, gives Eliot and I a nod, then follows his employer.

Eliot follows a few steps behind to make sure they leave.

I go to watch through the window in the door my self. I watch Eliot as he locks the front door and turns out lights on his way back to the kitchen.

When he's back in the kitchen, his entire focus is on me, cupping my face in his hands.

"You ok?" He asks.

"I'm good." He breaths a sigh and rests his forehead against mine.

We stay like that for a few minutes before I break the silence.

"You know, you saved me twice tonight."

He huffs out a laugh.

"I guess I did."

"You also said I was your wife."

He lifts his head and looks me in the eye.

"That I did. You okay with that?"

I nod, then pull him in for a kiss by his collar, his hands wrapping around my waist.

"It be nice if I was official though." I pull away just enough mumble against his lips.

"I'll talk to Nate."

He murmurs.

I let out a snort as I pull away.

"Good luck with that."

He smiles at me, a loving look on his face.

"You ready to head home?" He asks.

I nod, and start to pull away, but Eliot pulls me back for one more brief kiss, the finally lets me go to get my stuff.

We then finish closing up, and walk hand in hand to his truck to head home.

**********

Eliot Spencer Tag list:

@katbratsupernaturalwhore @fictional-hooman

[laundryandtaxesworld]

I would like a romantic cuddle (maybe some kissing or petting) for Tevan after a long shift. I want Buck to take care of Tommy and spoil him 🥺 thank you 💕

Tommy sighed as he slotted his key into the door. His joints ached from his forty-eight hour shift. Evan had texted him earlier that he was going to start dinner when he got home from the grocery store, but judging by the lights off, he must still be at the store.

He glanced at his phone, 7: 30 pm. His last text still sitting on his lock screen. Evan: Going to the store to grab stuff for dinner, see you when you get home. 1hr

Tommy sighed as he pushed the door open, he probably got stuck in traffic. LA traffic is always terrible, but it’s a bitch to get through on a Friday evening. Tommy flipped the light switch illuminating the hallway. A coat rack which started to hang heavier coats as well as the pile of shoes on the floor they claim is a shoe rack.

Tommy kicked off his shoes, hung his jacket and grabbed his duffel bag. He dropped the bag by the washing machine as he unloaded his clothes and put the cycle on wash.

Tommy ran up to the bathroom, he stripped his dirty clothes and was met with the welcoming arms of the warm water. His eyes closed as he scrubbed his body, face and quickly washed his hair. As Tommy stepped out of the shower and drying off, he heard the door open.

“Hey, baby.” Evan startled and looked up the stairs. There Tommy was looking like a greek god, with a towel slung low on his hips and another running through his wet hair. “Tommy! When did you get here?” Evan asked as he shifted the grocery bags in his arms. “Not too long. Did you get stuck in traffic?” “Yeah, I meant to go earlier, but I got sidetracked.” Evan paused. “I wanted to have dinner ready for when you got home.” Tommy smiled as he looked down at Evan with his big puppy dog eyes. “It’s okay, babe. I’m just glad you’re home.” Evan’s face lit up. “I’ll get dinner started.” Tommy shook his hair like a wet dog and went into the bedroom to change into grey sweats.

•••

Buck hummed as he unloaded the groceries. He maybe hadn’t beat Tommy home and surprised him with dinner, but he could make sure that dinner was delicious. He pulled out pots and pans and got started. After awhile Buck felt eyes staring at the back of head. He turned around from the stove and there was Tommy, shirtless, low grey sweats on his hips and damp hair making his curls pronounced.

“Hey, baby. Dinners almost done.” “Smells delicious, what are you making?” “Chicken Parmesan.” Buck heard Tommy saunter into the kitchen and felt arms wrapped around his stomach. “Yummy.” Buck turned his head and pecked Tommy on the lips. “Can’t wait for you to try it,” Buck said as he pulled away, “it’s a new recipe.” “I can’t wait either.”

Tommy grabbed plates from the cabinet and set it on the kitchen table. Buck turned off the stove and put the pot of pasta and pan of chicken on hot pads in the middle of the table.

The table fell into a comfortable silence as they ate their food. “How was your shift?” “It was fine, no big catastrophes. I got to save a few cats out of trees!” “Were they difficult?” “One was a mean one but the rest were sweethearts.”

•••

As Tommy started the dish washer, he groaned as his back muscles spasmed. “Babe are you okay?” Evan called from the living room. “Yeah, my back just hurts.” Evan looked up from the couch as Tommy hobbled into the living room. “Come here, baby.” Tommy sat down next to Evan, who sat behind Tommy and started to give him a back massage. “This feel good?” Tommy just sighed and nodded. Evan smiled as he pressed kisses on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Tommy whispered. “I love you too,” Evan whispered into Tommy’s shoulder.

here you go! i hope you enjoy it. i had a lot of fun writing this and making them happy.

[sweatygentlementriumph]

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Resin furniture may still draw owners to its natural organic charms, but nextgeneration materials like resin are quickly gaining in popularity due to their durability and flexibility. Resin furniture items might prove worthy alternatives to picket tables and chairs because of their look while not compromising on quality; however, before making a final call regarding buying resin furniture.

[unadulteratedwinnercrown]

The Next Big Thing In Mingja Restaurant Furniture

Top Trends in Flash Furniture

If you are looking out for out of doors furniture with trendy attractiveness that stands the take a look at of time, recycled resin may be your good solution. Made of lightweight nonetheless durable material that is suitable for each residential and business settings alike. Additionally, recycled resin offers multiple colours to satisfy individual preferences it makes an wonderful various to wood furniture that can be used across a selection of applications. Poly lumber is another sustainable outside furniture selection created from recycled plastics like milk jugs and detergent bottles, boasting no painting or staining requirements, resistance against insects, mould, mildew and insects, plus low maintenance requirements which will easily be cleaned by using either a pressure washer or hose nozzle. It makes an glorious addition to any backyard patio space!

Rustic Outdoor Furnishings Inspirations

Select a highquality cushion cloth designed to withstand the elements. Several of the superior cushion materials feature builtin protection against fading, mildew and mildew growth; water resistance; UV protectants to increase cushion life; artificial fiber construction like polyester or acrylic is typically utilized here; some even feature plastic coating for extra strength while some resolution dyed acrylic provides exceptional fade resistance.

When searching for outdoor furniture, a set consisting of a table and 4 or six chairs may be your ideal answer. This kind of seating permits for meals and conversations and creates an intimate seating area on your back porch or balcony. Furthermore, tables that include builtin drinks coolers may conjointly prove convenient relaxing Adirondack patio chairs or hammocks may even add vacation vibes while encouraging family and friends to spend additional time outside! RentACenter of Greenwood makes your backyard or deck the final summer hangout with topoftheline out of doors furniture, from Nordic inspired patio sets and trendsetting loveseats created with Acacia wood to resilient resin wicker chairs with weatherproof cushions upholstered with weatherproof cushions upholstered in weatherproof cushions. And we carry relaxing Adirondack patio chairs for relaxing vacation vibes or add four piece lounge sets complete with low tables to your condo porch so friends can gather and chat for hours while not making an upscale down payment with our straightforward rent to own rental furniture! Whatever your need might be, our rentable rentals build creating outdoor oasis without creating a commitment or large down payment simply what you need!

If you prefer traditional aesthetics, take into account teak wood patio furniture sets. Their natural patina will age to an engaging grey over time or they can be given protecting coating. Unfortunately, though, such pieces of patio furniture will be quite significant.

Wood remains the high material alternative for out of doors furniture because of its ecofriendliness, sturdiness, and aesthetic value. Woodbased out of doors furniture sales are expected to experience compound annual compound annual growth rate exceeding four.5% over the subsequent 5 years.

When purchasing outdoor furniture, explore for retailers giving free shipping and financing options department stores tend to own this profit and can often provide competitive prices on massive furniture sets. Be positive to look into their return policies previous to making any purchases, as these policies can vary widely between retailers. Some supply returns within days whereas others permit longer returns periods for instance Macy's offers free shipping with three day returns, though their selection Gar Furniture isn't huge; therefore it would possibly be best if you visit specialty retailers or online retailers instead. Your out of doors furniture plays an essential role in making a pleasant atmosphere when hosting friends or simply lounging around on its own. However, it's essential to fastidiously take into account which material was used when making these items because it desires to face up to weather conditions well and guarantee long run stability. With numerous selections accessible nowadays for finding your next piece, there is certain to be one excellent for you and your wants!

Garden furniture is typically created of weatherproof materials that make it suitable for outside use, together with tables and chairs for dining, relaxing rockers or Adirondack chairs, lounging sofas or fabric sofas with wide range of colors and textures to match any decor like solutiondyed acrylic and spun polyester materials that resist moisture buildup, mildew growth or staining cushioned throw pillows will further enliven outdoor seating or living areas.

We love this toptier brand for his or her unbelievable quality and attention to detail in every piece they Flash Restaurant Furniture turn out, together with their intensive expertise in furniture trade that ends up in highend patio furniture meant to square the check of your time.

Pool Furniture Provide offers topgrade commercialgrade pool furniture at reasonable prices, created to withstand even the harshest environments and keep wanting its best year once year. Their choice includes lounge chairs, dining tables and umbrellas all at affordable costs and outside accessories like citronella candles and string lights plus they supply several shipping options! Blu Dot is wellknown for their eyecatching modern styles, and their patio furniture isn't any different. Their intensive line of outdoor seating includes lounge seating, dining chairs, bar carts that employment inside or outdoors and bar carts to serve drinks on out of doors terraces or bar carts that employment both within and outdoors. Their eight totally different outside collections permit customers to get items individually or as sets plus there's additionally an wonderful return policy with dedicated client service teams behind it all!

Dining sets and patio umbrellas add an opulent feel to any outdoor pool space, while side tables or different smaller pieces function ornamental accents to this area. Umbrellas play an invaluable role in providing patrons with shade as needed throughout their day.

Resort Life Extendable Table made from premium Eucalyptus Wood with a light-weight aluminum frame is another fantastic option, that includes natural organic features together with cracks and colour variations that enhance its beauty. Treated with Duragrain waterbased end to guard its surface whereas displaying natural grain options of wood surface.

Shopper spending power and willingness to delight in leisure experiences is driving a rise in outside furniture purchases; however, many key points must be kept in mind before making a call on this purchase.

Homecrest stands out among US brands giving outside furniture by combining style and sturdiness into their merchandise. Homecrest provides an in depth range of designs and durable pieces using prime quality materials with rigorous testing processes to ensure long lasting furniture pieces. Additionally, they promote inexperienced living through using recycled aluminum, steel and wrought iron parts as well as recycled wood items in all their wood furnishings.

Resin Outside Furnture for Your Restaurant's Patio. Resin furniture could be a in style selection for many out of doors spaces. It's easy to scrub and maintain, and it's longlasting. Moreover, it's also environmentally friendly. To create resin wicker furniture, makers create a mold and then pour plastic resin into it. They then use wood and alternative materials to offer the furniture its form.

Rustic Outdoor Furnishings Inspirations

Interior designer Laura Hodges gave this whole her stamp of approval because its pieces feel trendy and chic. Discover discounted furniture sets around Labor Day. Additionally, request free material swatches online so that you'll see how they can look in your house before purchasing something. When purchasing out of doors furniture, your top priorities should embrace its ability to face up to varied types of weather and matching your aesthetic. For example, if you prefer entertaining guests frequently then an ample patio set would build a perfect resolution take into account Wayfair as they sell various brands and offer twoday shipping as a perk of membership! Before getting furniture, it's essential to arrange out its layout and live several times. Additionally remember that different materials suit certain climates better; metal furniture tends to be additional sturdy than wicker or wood however needs a lot of maintenance as it's susceptible to corrosion. Wood furniture offers greater versatility while being easier to maintain as its cleanup requires just damp cloth cleaning; additionally it's less likely to rot than its metal counterpart.

Omega Chaise for Sunrooms and Porches

Metal

Emu Omega for Pet-Friendly Spaces

Your business pool furniture must be designed to stand up to constant use by multiple guests. Explore for quickdrying construction materials like aluminum, wicker, recycled plastic and teakwood as these supply lasting performance in wet environments. Cushion, sling and strap models supply resistance against fading in wet conditions whereas powdercoated frames defend from rusting and corrosion harm.

Eco-Friendly Flash Omega Gar Restaurant Furniture ChaiseOutdoor FurnitureOutdoor Furniture Options

If you're searching for pool furniture, the first step ought to be assessing both your house and budget. A set of 2 chairs that fits comfortably on your tanning ledge may be an ideal starting point; alternatively you'll purchase a dining bistro set complete with table, high barheight seats and umbrella shade cowl is an extra alternative for sun protection. Another budgetconscious answer would be investing in single reclining lounge chair which comes in numerous designs and materials like Phifertex which has been certified GREENGUARDcompliant along with Microban protection for protection from mildew growth and mold growth.

Outdoor Furnishings for Beachside Lounging

A number of the simplest pool furniture concepts for outside areas embody chaise lounges and other chairs crafted from longwearing materials like teak or resin wicker. Though more expensive than other patio furniture items, these chairs will rise higher over time and create a higher aesthetic in your pool space. Furthermore, adjustable backrests might add comfort.

Mingja Omega Chaise for Large Patios

Build a budget arrange before searching for pool furniture. Higher worth tags sometimes indicate higherquality items; but, this does not essentially need emptying your checking account in order to induce these high pieces for your poolside patio. Many retailers offer financing and payment plans so it is easier for consumers to afford such luxury outside items for their poolside oasis.

Outdoor Furnishings Shopping Tips

Homeowners want to consider several factors when purchasing outdoor furniture, as well as its sturdiness underneath extreme weather and daylight conditions. Resin wicker furniture stands up very well against both parts.

Grosfillex Omega for Beachside Lounging

A variety of materials are used for luxury outside furniture, together with materials like olefin. Olefin could be a type of solutiondyed synthetic fibre, which is incredibly durable and stainresistant. This material will be found during a wide selection of chairs, sofas, chaise lounges and additional. It is immune to UV rays, chlorine and saltwater, creating it good for outdoor use. It will also withstand abrasion, which means that it will stand up to heavy use. It's also easy to clean, as it resists deterioration from mildew, chemicals and insects.

Outdoor Furnishings for Summer Parties

It is also more cost-effective than several acrylics, that will be more expensive than alternative textiles. This can be due to the fact that olefin includes a wider selection of designs, textures and weaves, opening up a world of design possibilities for luxury outdoor furniture. It is heat sensitive, however, and should not be exposed to direct daylight or a heater. It ought to be laundered using cold or warm water, and tumble dried on low or no heat when laundering.

Omega Chaise Shopping Tips

If you reside in an area with harsh UV rays or dramatic seasonal climate shifts, you wish out of doors furniture that resists harm and aging from constant exposure. It should additionally be able to withstand fluctuations in temperature, as these will cause materials to expand and crack.

Omega Chaise Brands and Manufacturers

Plastic resin furniture is an environmentally friendly different to wood. It�s created from recycled material, thus it�s a nice choice for those who are concerned concerning the setting. And, it can be molded into unique shapes that can enhance your restaurant�s interior style. You can also notice chairs with armrests and backs, so you�re positive to find the right seating for your restaurant. The sturdiness of resin chairs makes them a nice choice for outside use, and they're available in several totally different sizes to fit your restaurant�s space. Many Grosfillex resin chairs are stackable for straightforward storage, and some have cushioned seats for added comfort. They�re also proof against stains and UV rays, making them an excellent alternative for your restaurant�s outdoor dining space.

If you would like to create an impressionful statement along with your patio lounge chairs, select trendy patio lounge chairs that stand out from the standard plastic or metal deck chairs. Choose styles featuring comfy cushions and materials also options like reclining options and adjustable height settings for optimal comfort. Plus, Everyday Restaurant Furniture there's positive to be chairs of different sizes to suit each need of your guests!

Commercial outdoor furniture is designed to be used outside, which means it requires further care than indoor pieces. Harder materials usually used in its construction permit fabrics that build up its upholstery to be rinsed down with a hose once each use to remove sweat, sunscreen and pool chemicals; different website amenities like tables chairs and benches additionally utilise materials which will not rust quickly or break down quickly.

Alternative ecofriendly furniture brands embrace DUROGreen and Teakwood Furniture. DUROGreen furniture is composed of 95% recycled materials such as milk jugs and detergent bottles; their proprietary molding process creates stronger recycled plastic furniture than its competitors. Available in many colours with cushions from trusted outside fabric providers.

Outdoor Furniture for Meditation Spaces

Multifunctionality has quickly become one of the most popular outside furniture trends. Multipurpose items are ideal for small balconies and terraces that will not provide much house, as they'll simply be moved and reassembled to accommodate totally different numbers of guests something especially helpful for apartment dwellers or generation renters with limited offered area.

Grosfillex Omega Storage Solutions

Garden furniture is sometimes made of weatherproof materials that build it suitable for outdoor use, together with tables and chairs for dining, relaxing rockers or Adirondack chairs, lounging sofas or fabric sofas with wide selection of colours and textures to match any decor such as solutiondyed acrylic and spun polyester materials that resist moisture buildup, mildew growth or staining cushioned throw pillows will further enliven outdoor seating or living areas.

An inflatable pool lounge chair will take your poolside experience to a higher level. Select from varied colours, configurations and dimensions.

This furniture piece mimics the sound of waves rolling in, making it the perfect piece for relaxing on your porch or deck. Opt for from an array of colors, designs and styles to search out one that best enhances your patio.

Outdoor resin furniture makes an attractive and useful addition to any home, while being ecofriendly and weather resistant. Furthermore, it resists mould growth furthermore mildew growth.

Several folks get pleasure from lounging in pool lounge chairs to unwind and browse or Emu Restaurant Furniture simply absorb some sun, as well as to take a seat with family or friends and chat. You'll also use these chairs for conversation. Different individuals opt to lay out in the water with towels to sunbathe. Furthermore, pool furniture sets offer tables where food and drinks can be placed.

RentToOwn Out of doors Furniture in Mississippi. Create your backyard the final summer destination with highquality outdoor furniture from renttoown patio dining sets or two oversized lounge chairs from renttoown patio dining sets, perfect for hosting huge barbecues with all of your family, or rent 2 to form the ideal spot on your condo porch for relaxation with your partner.

To keep outside furniture stunning and in good condition, it's crucial that it's frequently cleaned and guarded against the weather. Regular soap and water cleaning can do simply fine, whereas adding protective coating like varnish or wax can keep pieces wanting brand new for an extended amount. Alternatively, water repellant spray can additionally work effectively; simply be sure it's been specifically created for outdoor furniture as using regular household cleaners will damage its surface. One in all the most well liked trends in out of doors furniture style is mixing materials. Furniture manufacturers often mix wood, metal and plastic into modern designs that withstand weather components giving customers additional choices in order to pick pieces that best match their personal designs and add texture and depth to a area.

[cedarsolutions]

Enhancing the Beauty of Your Cedar with Cedar Restoration and Cedar Stain 

Introduction 

Cedar wood is renowned for its natural beauty, durability, and resistance to decay. Whether used for decks, siding, or fences, cedar adds a touch of elegance and warmth to any outdoor space. However, over time, cedar can lose its luster and start showing signs of wear and tear due to exposure to the elements. This is where Cedar Restoration and Cedar Stain come into play, reviving the beauty of cedar while protecting it from future damage. 

Cedar Restoration: Bringing Your Wood Back to Life 

Cedar restoration is the process of rejuvenating your cedar wood by removing dirt, mildew, and other impurities that accumulate over time. This essential step not only improves the appearance of your cedar but also ensures that the stain or finish adheres properly, providing long-lasting protection. 

Cedar wood can become discolored or grey due to prolonged exposure to sunlight and moisture. Cedar restoration involves a thorough cleaning of the wood's surface, usually with a power washer or specialized cleaning solutions. This removes dirt, grime, and any previous coatings, preparing the wood for the next crucial step. 

Cedar Stain: Beauty and Protection in One 

Once your cedar wood is restored to its natural glory, it's time to protect and enhance it with cedar stain. Cedar stain is specially formulated to penetrate the wood fibers, protecting it from UV rays, moisture, and mildew. It not only extends the lifespan of your cedar but also enhances its appearance by adding a rich, natural color. 

Choosing the right cedar stain is essential to achieve the desired results. There are various options available, including transparent, semi-transparent, and solid stains. Transparent stains allow the natural grain of the cedar to shine through, while solid stains provide a more opaque finish, covering imperfections and providing a uniform appearance. 

Benefits of Cedar Restoration and Cedar Stain 

1. Preserves Natural Beauty: Cedar wood's natural color and grain are one of its most appealing features. Cedar restoration and stain allow you to retain this beauty while protecting it from the elements. 

2. Longevity: Cedar wood is naturally resistant to decay, but cedar stain enhances this resistance further, ensuring your wood lasts for years without extensive maintenance. 

3. Prevents Moisture Damage: Cedar stain creates a barrier that prevents moisture from penetrating the wood, reducing the risk of rot and warping. 

4. UV Protection: UV rays can fade and damage cedar over time. Cedar stain provides UV protection, maintaining the wood's color and strength. 

5. Low Maintenance: Stained cedar is easier to clean and maintain, reducing the need for frequent refinishing or repairs. 

Conclusion 

Cedar wood is a timeless choice for outdoor projects due to its natural beauty and durability. However, to keep it looking its best and protect it from the elements, Cedar Restoration and Cedar Stain are essential. These processes not only rejuvenate your cedar but also enhance its natural beauty, ensuring it remains a focal point of your outdoor space for years to come. 

If you have cedar structures that have lost their luster or need protection from the elements, consider cedar restoration and cedar stain as a wise investment. These two steps will not only revitalize your cedar but also extend its lifespan, making it a long-term, beautiful addition to your outdoor environment. 

[regard-luxury]

Fashion Suggestions For Winter Dressing When Its Really Cold Out

Create a classic winter outfit that is easy to put collectively, by pairing a quality wool coat with frivolously distressed, dark wash skinny jeans. Wear with a leather bag and classy winter fashion sneakers for a weekend look that is subtle however casual. Luxurious fabrics like plaid and cashmere exude an class that palatably lingers in the air.

Noyoco makes stunning wool coats, jackets in a range of colours, and comfy sweaters. They use upcycled, pure, and low-environmental-impact supplies to create eco-responsible, sturdy, and sustainable clothing. Bring a mellow touch to your outfit by rocking black leather work boots. As you possibly can see here, this combo is a practical illustration that good style and dressing well for the winter season are not mutually unique. Those who're dubious whether or not you'll be able to nonetheless put on edgy off-duty looks as you pass the massive 5-0, this pairing ought to reply your question. Even throughout winter’s darkest days, great type is very possible, as lengthy as you’re prepared.

Start with this WEERTI Thermal Baselayer Set, consisting of a fleece-lined prime and bottoms. They function touchscreen fingers, so that you don’t have to take them off everytime you wish to make a call or textual content. Thus, if you’re heading someplace snowy, a neck hotter like this one from NovForth is a should. Neck warmers are a wonderful different to scarves as they're fleece lined and supply extra coverage around the neck space. First, select a winter hat that covers your ears, defending them from the icy winds.

Apart from the sort of garments you put on, you can even tremendously improve their performance with the means in which you wear them. Make certain that all the openings at neck, wrists, waist and ankles are close becoming, but not tight. For a jacket a knitted wrist cuff sewn into the tip of the sleeve makes an enormous distinction.

Shrinking of the cold interval in many countries as a outcome of global warming is affecting the gross sales of winter put on. People are mostly shopping for a lighter model of winter garments since the heavy winter season is shortening. Moreover, due to the frequent change in developments, customers usually winter fashion are not prepared to purchase expensive clothes. The unorganized sectors significantly dominate the market in many nations. Whereas, because of the growing demand for luxurious merchandise among various customers, numerous organized sectors have also invested and penetrated into this market.

Make sure you have those fundamentals first that may kind the muse of every good outfit. For example, just lately embroidered denims have been the recent new trend. This would have been a pricier development to add as a result of denims aren’t cheap!

Whereas sweaters usually need to be dry-cleaned or at least particular care in the laundry room, most sweatshirts could be thrown within the washer and dryer. A classic colour like grey, camel, or black is all the time a protected wager, however don’t rule out fun colours like purple, pink, blue, or even plaid! Choose a classic style, and it will last you many years. Along with the 90s, the 2000s fashion is again stronger than ever. The Y2K fashion is right here and the love for corseting is not leaving.

Lucky for you, they go with absolutely anything, but white denims and ankle boots are a great place to start. I swear by a basic, mock-turtleneck and have found that pairing it with my favourite pair of denim jeans and a lug-sole boot is at all times the move winter fashion. If you invite me for dinner and drinks, there’s a ninety five p.c chance that I’ll show up on this precise outfit formula. Lightweight supplies like nylon aren’t going to do much to maintain you warm, even when you’re wearing multiple layers.

[inyri]

SON OF A BITCH

i need to wash my grey coat (we wear grey coats, not white). why, you ask? don’t click if you don’t like gross medical stuff.

my last patient was a physical but coincidentally had an infected cyst about the size of a golf ball that had started to drain spontanously. I thought we’d see if we could get it to decompress without having to actually incise it, just use a little pressure.

plus side: it decompressed

minus size: it decompressed ON ME. i had gauze over it and everything but it angled obliquely instead of up where it had been draining before.

MOTHER$($&@#$@#*# (and infected cysts smell like ASS %*$%&@(%&@#*#)

[ashonheavenscloud]

Sensitive || Seo Changbin

Sensitive || Seo Changbin for kinktober

🔞CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT! MINORS DNI!🔞

warnings: dom!changbin, sub!fem!reader, oral, swearing, voice kink, body worshipping, praise, size kink, lil bit of possessiveness, breast play HAHAHA good luck friends🫡

word count: 2.6K

🎧: Okay - Chase Atlantic

—————————————————————————

Your boyfriend was in big trouble.

You heaved a sigh, staring into the washing machine at the wet pile of clothes Changbin had, once again, forgotten about in his daily rush. You knew he was busy, but in his forgetfulness he’d left your beloved sweatpants to soak. You forced your eyes away from the tragic scene. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but you’d been at work for eight hours today and all you’d wanted was to come home and drown in your favourite baggy clothes.

Oh, it looked like your favourite sweater was in there too. Great.

You lugged a basket to empty Changbin’s load of laundry from the dryer, and flipped your dripping load into the machine. Spinning the dial, you turned on the dryer for an hour, and washed as it began to spin.

All that was left to do was… wait.

You heaved Changbin’s laundry into the living room, glancing at your phone to check the time after setting it down on the floor. Half an hour until he got home, give or take a couple minutes. He always came home at the same time on Friday’s, to spend the end of the work week with you. A small thing that melted your heart every time.

You started to fold Changbin’s laundry, figuring it would be a nice surprise for him to come back to. It was in the little things that you loved him, like the laundry. And even if he forgot to flip over the loads sometimes, it was the thought that really mattered.

You reached into the hamper, and pulled out a pair of Changbin’s joggers, folding them and setting them into the pile. But you froze, staring at the joggers, an idea popping into your mind.

If your sweatpants were wet… why not borrow another pair?

…

It wasn’t like Changbin hadn’t ever seen you wearing his clothes. But usually you were fucked out, hazy-eyed on his bed when he helped you into one of his t-shirt. Or you’d pull on a shirt after your shower, the sole purpose to attempt your skincare routine while he fingered you from behind.

Never his sweatpants, though. And they were hella comfy. You smoothed your hands over the soft fabric, sucking a breath through your teeth. Why were they so nice? 

“I could get used to this.” You murmured to yourself, burying yourself further in one of his thick grey hoodies, appreciating the smell of laundry detergent on them

“Used to what-”

You froze, spinning to lock eyes with Changbin, standing in the doorway with wide eyes. For some reason, you felt caught, even though he’d seen you pretty much every way imaginable. You bundled deeper into the hoodie, feeling heat rise to your face. “I- my sweatpants were still in the washer. You forgot to change it over- which is fine, it’s fine- but I just thought I’d borrow yours.”

Changbin was frozen for a minute, and you didn’t understand. Why was he just… staring at you? But then he’d pulled his coat off, draping over the loveseat as he approached you slowly. His gaze was all over your body, your face, and you noticed a faint tinge of red on his ears.

“I like it.” He murmured, a small smirk tilting up his lips. “You should wear them more often.”

You couldn’t help but flush at the compliment- but even more so at the way he was looking at you, eyes sparkling, full of admiration. “Really? They’re a bit big, even if they’re comfy-”

“No, but it suits you…” He whispered, hand sliding around your waist, sparking a wild rage of butterflies in your stomach. His eyes flickered up your body to meet yours, making your breath catch at the intensity in them. His breath fanned your face. “You look so…”

But whatever he was going to say faded from his tongue, cut off by his lips gently meeting yours. You quietly sighed at the feeling of his warm lips, hand faltering over his chest. Your mind grew fuzzy as he kissed you, softly taking in your lips, like he was purposefully feeling every bit of your mouth. Then slowly, he eased you backwards, forcing you to sit down when your knees hit the couch. He followed you, never letting his lips part from yours as he sat beside you on the cushions, hands moving to pull you in; one cupped your jaw, and the other kept a firm hold on your waist.

It wasn’t long before his kisses turned greedy, pressing deeper into you with every added touch of his lips. Your skin was tingling, arms circling around his neck to hold him close while his hands gripped your waist, body leaning into your touch. Your hands wound through his hair, tangling them into fists as the boy moaned into your mouth, murmuring a low, “fuck.” under his breath and pushing even closer, faster. And you wanted to feel him everywhere, have absolutely no space between the two of you, and soon enough, your clothes preventing that became unbearably frustrating.

You snapped at the same moment as Changbin, parting only for a brief second to pull your shirt over your head as your boyfriend did the same. He whipped it to the side before taking your face in his hands and pulling you back to his for a long, languid kiss, breaths coming in sharp intakes as you kissed him back with fervour, hands back in his curls. 

Then he was moving on top of you, laying you down on the couch with his body hovered over yours, caging you to the cushions. His bare chest pressed against yours, all flexing muscle and flushed skin. His kisses never ceased, growing ever more needy and sloppy, hands slipping to your hips to skim the waistband of his sweatpants snug around your hips.

“Look so perfect-” He panted between kisses. “Look so damn perfect in my clothes… just wanna ruin you… make you feel good…”

His words lit fire in your midsection, making your legs subconsciously close around his waist. The brush of his firm dick through your clothes made you both whine, desperation coursing through your body.

“Binnie-”

“Fuck, my name sounds so pretty on your tongue.” He groaned, pulling back to wipe the sweat already forming on his forehead, hair messy from the tug of your fingers. Quickly, he discarded his jeans, clearly much too tight around his girth now straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. Your core clenched painfully at the thought of how full he always made you feel, anticipation rising in your gut.

Changbin moved back to kissing you briefly before his mouth wandered to your neck, finding the sweet spot at the junction of your jawline. He gifted you with open mouthed kisses and wet presses of his tongue that had you squirming, softly whining at the delicious feeling. He sucked slowly, taking his time leaving hickeys that were sure to last at least a week or more, a trail of love bites that quickly descended to your breasts. 

“Ah-” You couldn’t help but moan when Changbin’s mouth found the bud of your right breast, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nipple. You arched your back at the toe-curling sensation, hands finding his biceps and holding on for dear life.

He chuckled at that. “You’re always so sensitive here.” He mumbled, gently kissing your spit-soaked nipple. “Cute.”

He switched sides, lips abusing your left breast as his hand came up to massage and tease the other. Unbearable heat continued to grow in your core with every tease of your nipples, legs tensing as they wound tighter around his hips to pull him close.

At this Changbin giggled. “Impatient?”

“Fuck yes.” You whined, eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming pleasure to your sensitive tits. “Stop teasing.”

“You’re just too cute, I can’t help it.” Changbin cooed, but luckily he didn’t make you ask again. Quickly his boxers were tugged off, erection springing free, angrily red and veiny and divine. The very sight made your mouth water. 

His lips were back on you, nipping at the flesh of your breasts as his fingers slipped past your waistband to pull them down with your panties, leaving you fully exposed before him.

Changbin pulled back to look at you fully, eyes drifting down with a small smirk. “Now I see why you were so impatient.” He murmured, swiping his fingers through your slick folds. You shivered at his touch, watching him pull his fingers back to admire the wetness glistening over them.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He whispered, the slight growl in his voice making you shiver as he leaned down, to press long kisses on your stomach, sucking slowly at the skin. “My pretty baby all laid out for me… you look fucking beautiful.”

You whimpered as his mouth slipped lower, kissing along your pelvis until he reached your folds, slowly dragging his tongue through your slit. You jolted, the warmth of his mouth making your eyes flicker shut as you moaned. Changbin only chuckled in response before digging in and finding your clit, using his tongue to rub up and down the sensitive bud. Your hands flew to his scalp to tug on his curls, eliciting growls from the back of Changbin’s throat that vibrated against your clit. Your legs wound tighter around Changbin’s shoulders as he closed his lips around your clit and slowly sucked on the bundle of nerves. 

You wanted to scream. Overwhelming pleasure pulsed through you as you moaned again and again- and he wasn’t even fucking inside you yet. Changbin seemed to have no intention of speeding things up, though, tongue winding around your clit to tease you further. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled in between licks. “You sound so hot… keep going, baby.”

Like you could stop.

He spent what felt like hours just nursing your clit, sucking it into his cheek and gracing it with swipes of his tongue. You had stars in your eyes by the time he finally sat back, and massaged your legs further apart.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, almost to himself, and you opened your eyes to see him staring right back. His eyes were pooled with lust and love, and fuck, the way he looked right now. His hair was a tangled mess from your constant tugging, and there were still remnants of your slick around his chin and mouth. His lips were chapped and red, his chest heaving and flexed, and he’d never looked so sexy in this entire life. You nearly groaned just at the sight, core pulsing and beyond ready to take him in.

Changbin’s mouth found yours again, not caring for the mess that you both were as he sucked on your bottom lip. It wasn’t long before his lips trailed south, across your shoulder and down the hills of your breasts. “Look at you,” he whispered, pausing to gently kiss your perked nipples. “My sweet little mess. You’re beautiful… fuck, let me ruin you baby…”

“Changbin��” you whined, begging him to get on with it, and he obliged, hooking one arm under your knees and pushing your legs forward for easier access to your pussy.

His eyes drifted to your dripping core and he cursed under his breath. Almost subconsciously, his hand drifted down to jerk his shaft a couple times. “Ready?”

He smirked when he said it, the fucking tease, and you whined. Changbin didn’t need anything else; without another second to waste, he lined himself up with your entrance and eased himself inside you.

And you knew Changbin was big- shit, everything about him was exclusively big. His arms that tensed as they pushed your legs back to your chest, his broad shoulders that made you feel so small next to him, his thighs that sat next to your ass, flexing as he pushed himself into you. But his thick girth was something that, no matter how many times he fucked you, you could never get used to.

And it offered you overwhelming amounts of pleasure every single time.

“Fuck…” Changbin groaned, panting as he slowly eased further into you. “So wet, oh my god…”

You whined as he bottomed out, hissing through his teeth as you clenched hard around him, body begging for every inch that he could give you. Both your chests were heaving and your mind was spinning at the sheer size of him, pulsing and rubbing inside you as he shifted, moaning.

“Holy shit, baby…” his grip on your thighs tightened when you clenched and he grunted, bucking into you. “You feel so good, nice and tight for me, body begging for me…”

You shivered at his words as he traced his hands down to your ass, scooping your hips to pull you right up to him, shoving himself right into you. Your legs found their way around him again as he gripped your ass to hold you in place and began to rock. Back, and forward. Back, and forward.

The cushions shifted, the couch springs creaked, and Changbin ducked down to litter your chest with bruises, sucking long hickeys on your skin as your arms found his biceps, holding onto the taunt muscle, huge and firm, flexing with every push into you.

“Good girl,” he moaned when you clenched around him again, crying out from the building pressure in your core. His one hand slipped up to circle your clit, slowly and purposefully, causing a low moan to rise from your throat. Your eyes rolled shut at a particularly harsh thrust, waves of pleasuring heating up your body; you were practically steaming at this point, and you weren’t entirely sure how much more you could take.

Changbin leaned forward, chest resting against yours, wet kisses slipping up behind your ear, long touches of his tongue making you shiver and moan again. He chuckled softly, and you could feel his smirk next to your ear. 

“You’re taking me so well, aren’t you?” He whispered, his languid pace picking up speed. “My sweet baby, so fucked out already… you’re so good for me, aren’t you? Hmm?”

“For you…”

“For me.” He hissed, letting his fingers explore your sopping folds, rubbing patterns over your clit. The knot in your stomach tightened, and you whimpered.

“I’m almost… almost…”

“Come on, there’s my girl…” He whispered into your ear, voice raspy. You clenched and he moaned, the sound like music to your senses. “Y-you’ve been so good… come for me, my love… my good girl…”

It was his voice, in the end, that pushed you to the edge. A long string of moans poured from your lips as your high washed over you in waves of pleasure, coming around Changbin’s cock. Your release immediately did him in, and with a deep, prolonged groan he broke, burying himself into you a few more times for good measure. At last, he lowered himself, half draped over you, face buried in your neck.

“Fuck, that was amazing.” He whispered, peppering your neck with quick, loving kisses. “You should wear my clothes more often.”

“Maybe I should.” You giggled, drawing patterns over his scalp with your fingers, feeling his shiver at the touch.

“You should.” He smirked, softly kissing your ear several times before murmuring, “But when you do, I can’t promise you’ll be wearing them for long.”

[animesllut666]

Snowman and theft?

Characters: agedupKUROO x GNREADER

Anime: Haikyuu

Warnings: none.. fluff?, Kind of cheesy, cursing.

Summary: You hated snow, hated the cold, the wetness, how bright it was as well. But something about today, and with the snow storm in the works. Made you bundle up, and start building a snowman. When a tall guy walking the street, offered to help. You both found out you had things in common. Along with hating winter and the snow. You both couldn't deny how beautiful it was, an why there was an overwhelming urge to go out that day. It was to meet and fall in love.

AN: I just got done building a snowman, and going to the store. Where I keep seeing this really cute guy, and idk.. it gave me some inspiration. It's also... Cheesy as hell.

++++++++++++++

"For anyone having to work on this historical winter storm. Make sure to pack your car with a blanket, some water and food along with some flashlights. Maybe add some heat packs, and don't leave your car running due to suffocating from carbon monoxide. This storm will bring record breaking temperatures, an deadly almost Tsunami winds. For anyo-"

"Damn, damn, and damn.. Fucking snow," They grumbled, shutting the TV off as the skies started to turn a dark grey and the wind was picking up. Too say you wanted to be on a beach, or even anywhere else that a snow storm wasn't about to drop 14 inches if not more snow.

A small meow was heard from behind them. "I know Ramen, it's about to get real nasty outside," They said, patting the head of the beige cat, a purring sound was greeted in return.

"Guess now would be a good time to get some work done around the apartment," They grunted, figuring might as well clean for the time being.

Walking over to the kitchen sink, noticing the mountain of dishes, "I..don't want too," with regret and annoyance at one's self for allowing the dishes to get this bad. They started to clean, first with the kitchen, then the living room, throwing some laundry in the washer and by the end of it all. Only an hour had passed, with a huff they slumped on the bean bag chair in the living room.

Movement outside caught there attention, their head hanging back on the chair they moved around to see large and small snowflakes falling.

Decorating the streets, the balconies and naked trees in white fluff, "So beautiful, yet so cold and wet."

They spoke in awe at the scene in front of them, a thought coming to mind as they rushed to their closest. Putting on a pair of leggings, and then some jeans, thick wool socks, and winter boots. With three layers of shirts, and finally a winter coat and scarf, securing the gloves on their hands. Pulling on a yellow hat, that was hanging by the door.

They said a brief fair well to Ramen, an rushed to the elevator. Pushing the button for the lobby, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. Dashing off the elevator, they said a brief hello to the desk clerk, before rushing to the near by park. The streets empty of all people, no kids outside enjoying the snow.

The only sound were vehicles, probably of people having to work on this day and of others that may have forgotten to stock up before the snow had hit.

As they approached the park, a strong gust of wind knocked the hat they put on. Turning around, trying to chase after it and catch it with outstretched arms but it was too late.

The bright yellow hat danced away with the help of the wind, with a sigh they made the way back to the park. Pulling up the hood of the coat, and fasting it around them.

Snow blanketed the playset, about three inches of snow had already fallen, while more feel. Crouching down, picking snow up an giving it a good roll, the snowball didn't break or grumble. It did exactly what they wanted it too do.

It rolled and gathered up more snow, with a grin and a squeal of joy. The process of building a snowman was in action, an while they enjoyed the fun of it. Another was having some trouble finding the fun in this winter storm.

He had forgotten his gloves, and a scarf when in a rush to go too the store to gather some food. An in his haste, he forgot his wallet, so now, with cold hands and neck. Kuroo grumbled and huffed out a string of curses, he thought he had a pair of extra gloves in his coat but he had been wrong.

While he was making his trip back to his apartment, he saw a streak of yellow catch his eye. Reaching up in the air, grabbing the yellow hat. Inspecting it for any kind of initials, he saw some letters on it but they were slightly smudged.

With a shrug of broad shoulders, he placed the hat on his head, "I really hope whoever had this, didn't have head lice."

Humming, he made his way down the sidewalk. His attention everywhere, watching the few cars drive past, seeing tiny little paw prints in the snow from stray cats, watching the shivering bodies of dog owners, as the dogs jumped, rolled and ate the snow.

A smile spreading on his face at the site, maybe the snow wasn't all bad as long as some enjoyed it.

"Oh that's cute," He said, seeing a kid building a snowman in the nearby park. There winter boats and coat shielding them from the harsh wind an bitter cold. He stepped over to them, as they put the head on the body, "Here have this hat ki- OH MY GOD YOURE AN ADULT!" He shouted, losing his balance as he fell backwards onto the snow. His butt hitting the cold frozen water, "Of course I'm an adult! Hey! That's my hat, you thief!" They shouted back, snatching the hat from the fallen man. Putting it back on them, "Thief? You lost it, due to your own carelessness.. are you even listening to me?" He said annoyed by them searching for decorations for the snowman, with a very heavy sigh and motivation to stand up. Instead of having a strong urge to walk away, he decided to help with the snowman.

Kuroo walked to where he knew rocks, and some sticks were located. Kicking the snow around till some rocks started becoming visible. He picked out the ones that he thought were the prettiest. Picking up some sticks along the way, and even dead leaves.

"Are these suitable enough for this...snowman?" He wondered aloud, tilting his head at the slightly lopsided snowman, his eyes trailing down to the 'chest' as you were adding, "Are you giving it boobs?"

"Yes, why not? It's always snowMAN never snowWOMAN. So I'm changing it up," You informed him, his dead stare burning into your head as you continued giving the snowwoman rather decent size breasts.

"Okay, here are some eyes or better yet. I'll gather supplies, and you do whatever with them."

An that's exactly what happened, Kuroo gathered up some supplies and you decorated the snowwoman. By the end of it, it took 10 minutes. The wind was kind of settling down but the snow was coming down even heavier.

The snowwoman had leaves for hair, big dark grey rocks for eyes, and little sticks that formed into a smile. Sticks for arms and little pebbles formed a necklace, an some earrings.

"It's missing something," You pondered, taking off your hat an placing it on the head of the snowwoman, taking the scarf around your own neck and placing it the neck of her.

"There, that's better, wh-"

"THATS MY SCARF, YOU THIEF!" Kuroo hollered finally wondering why that scarf looked so familiar when he first saw you. "Wh.. what? I found it, so it's not theft, it's.. keeping, shit.. it is theft," You agreed in the end, giving up on trying to defend yourself.

"Exactly, but I guess mine was theft as well, I did take the hat when I saw it."

"Yeah, but it's not like we broke into each other place an took it," You reasoned, patting his shoulder. He went to say something when a strong gust of wind came down the play ground. Taking both of your breaths away, "We should get home. Umm.. thanks for the, oh youre really handsome."

"You're really beautiful," You both blurted out as your eyes met. Faces turning red at the bluntness from each other, "Um thanks," They both replied in sync, "Ugh you.. my apartment building has a cute little cafe that's still open."

"Oh! So does mine! Um.. which one is closer?"

"Ugh it's around the corner, about two blocks from here," Kuroo gave directions, watching as their face twisted in confusion. "I think we live at the same place," They said, starting to walk with the raven haired man. His eyebrows shooting up at the statement, "Oh, huh.. it is a rather large building. Also, my name is Kuroo."

"(...), It's nice to meet you."

The both of them walked in silence, the cold wind blowing around them. They walked closer, after awhile linking arms to keep warm. It didn't feel awkward, nor did it feel unknown or uncomfortable for them. It almost felt natural for them both to be close so quickly.

The thought of getting there hat and scarf off the snowwoman, not coming to mind till after they had been sitting in the cafe for hours.

Laughing at their own carelessness, as the winter storm raged outside. "I hope it isn't destroyed by now," You wondered aloud, seeing the wind and snow mixing together.

"Nah, it's strong, you built it."

And he was right, the snowwoman stayed strong through the evening and overnight. The hat miraculously staying along with the scarf, they would both soon return a couple days later. And see other kids playing with snowballs, and adding on to the snowwoman. Making a little family, it was a reminder of how they met and where they met. And for many years to come, they would return to the same location and build snowwoman together.

[elsewhereuniversity]

The scholarship letter came in the normal mail. I don’t know why that felt weird to me; I mean, what else I was expecting? An owl? This wasn’t Harry Potter. It wasn’t the most generous offer I’d gotten, but I liked the look of the campus from the brochure. When I went on the tour, it felt like coming home.

Even the iron washer on a lanyard felt familiar. I didn’t take it off, even at home.

—

“Yeah Mom, you have to put my student ID number on my mail instead of my name. Yeah, some weird thing with their sorting system. Can you make sure Grandma knows too? Th- I appreciate it. Love you too.”

—

“Honestly, they charge us so much for the meal plan, I don’t feel bad for nicking the creamers and salt packets from the dining hall. Anyway, I just love the rhythm of old superstitions, so it’s nice that the attendants look the other way anyway.”

—

“Practicing my poetry for the crows just feels right, you know? I’ve always liked being outside and if the crows judge, at least they usually don’t tell me that my meter is off even when it’s not, Dave from ENG 202. Plus, I shine some pennies up with that vinegar and salt trick and they like when I offer those up.”

—

“Revels? You mean like… frat parties? Yeah, I’ve been to a few. They were fun, but not a lot like college in the movies.” A pause to laugh. “Yeah, people here do shit like actually dance, like with steps and everything. And some of the makeup games around here are so on point, I’m pretty sure the theater effects department is getting their friends to sit for experiments and then sending them to the revels. Seriously, the scales on that one kid were so realistic. Oh yeah, I do have a couple of salt packets, forgot those were even in my pockets. Why, do you need some?”

—

“Don’t walk by that tree after dark, the one on the hill… I don’t know, it just spooks me. I think some creep hangs out there or something, because it always feels like someone’s watching me when there’s shadows… It’s just basic campus safety, since the streetlights there are always burnt out. No need to bring magic into it.”

—

I stared at the speckled grey and white fur in the back of my roommate’s side of the closet where I had been digging for the shoes I’d lent her for the Spring Revel. Her new boyfriend had seemed familiar in a way that tasted like salt on the back of my tongue. Now I guess I knew why.

“Don’t admit to knowing,” my Nana had said when I called to tell her where I was going to school. She never had to be reminded to call me by my safe name and all of her care packages were littered with iron nails. But I couldn’t just turn away from the way my heart called out to this.

Carefully, I slid the skin into a plastic bag and then into my backpack, wincing a little at the indignity. I didn’t want him to have to run around campus with it in his arms though. Rubix had just complained this morning about Harbor spending most of today in the library, so at least I knew where to head.

It didn’t take long to spot Harbor, in a corner table, surrounded by a few members of the swim team with his head in his hands.

“-have to drop off the team, I can’t get in the pool anymore without-” He broke off as I slid into the seat across from him.

“Hey, Harbor. I think you dropped your coat the last time you were in our room,” I told him lightly, pulling the plastic bag out of my backpack. The eyes of every swim team member there widened in a way that would have been comical if I hadn’t known why. “Rubix was busy, so I thought I’d return it to you.”

Harbor’s hands were shaky as he slid the bag towards him and into his lap. “What do I owe-”

I waved a hand, smiling at the group. “Oh, it’s fine, I’m not asking anything for this. After all, it’s not such a big deal to return things for your roommate’s ex.”

The smiles that went around the table were sharp, and they stood almost as one to leave. A hand on Harbor’s arm stopped him and he turned back with eyebrows raised.

“I don’t Know anything, of course, but-” I hesitated. “An uncommon number of people in my family have drowned, but the sea feels more like home than anything.”

Harbor nodded, his freckled face splitting in a smile. “You’re always welcome at swim team practices, or at our parties.” His tone shifted so it was carefully bland and casual. “It’s so odd, but whatever EU uses to clean the pool tastes just like salt.”

I returned his smile and let go of his arm so he could run after his friends. When I came home to an empty room that night, I remembered the feel of my Nana’s fur coat (still in her own possession, unlike some of my other ancestors) and wondered if I had any cousins on the swim team.

x

[skrltwtch]

Graveyard Shift

Prompt: I know the sign says, "No shoes, no shirt, no service", but I just had the WEIRDEST night and your shop is the only building with lights on this early, and I'm really, really hoping you have some spare clothes behind the counter. Help? (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,255 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, smut, supernatural

Warnings: Smut

References: 1 Inglourious Basterds

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Graveyard shift is the fucking best — and the fucking worst.

For one, the shop is able to achieve that fine balance between having enough customers to justify its opening hours and keep me on its payroll, and having enough customers to not make me regret my choice of employment while I attempt to sort out my life. The silence that falls over the shop at two o’clock — without fail every night, like the general public know they have better places to be at two o’clock than a corner shop — grants it the perfect atmosphere for self-introspection and self-improvement. Have I learnt anything useful? Let’s … not talk about that.

Now, what’s the downside to this job, you ask? The customers, of course. There are fewer of them in the dead of the night, but God, the ones that do come in … Being situated on one of London’s busiest corners means a colourful clientele at all times of the day. Drunkards and yobs make up a sizeable number of the demographic that contribute to the shop’s cash drawer while I’m on duty. It’s both sickening and fascinating to deal with them. In my nine months of working here, I’ve seen it all — or I thought I have, until my attention is drawn to the naked man at the door.

It’s less than half an hour after sunrise. He doesn’t look like he’s knocked back a drink too many. (Can coffee make me see things I’m not supposed to be seeing at this hour?) He looks to be of sound mind, his franticness to be let inside aside. He’s handsome: his brown waves, wiry physique, and elegant features lend him a startling resemblance to an ancient Greek sculpture. Strangely, there is an abundance of scars all over his body, and not in a manner that’d signal self-harm. They look more consistent with animal scratches. I’m speaking from experience here: I have a cat, though it’s nigh impossible a cat did this to him.

Nonetheless, this ranks in the lower half of the top ten weirdest shit I’ve seen while on the clock.

‘Hello? Hello!’ That ought to be what he’s saying; I don’t proclaim myself to be an expert at lip reading. It’s encouraging that he’s aware of the sign preventing his entry and doesn’t think he’s above it, at least.

I shake my head at him. Rules are rules, mate. They apply even to hot, naked men.

‘Come on! Please?’ — I think.

‘Sorry!’ I shout, and I point at the camera above me. Colin, my manager, is a cool bloke. It’s about as likely that I’d lose my job for letting Mr Naked and Afraid grace the inside of the shop with his presence and providing him with service as it is that Mr Naked and Afraid is on something that isn’t obvious to my innocent eyes. Why tempt fate? There are other corner shops with less draconian policies down the street. I turn away and continue looking at my phone to spare us both our blushes. It is nippy outside …

Fuck it.

I motion for him to come in. I can explain this to Colin, should he decide to review this morning’s security footage on a whim. He’s a Cool Bloke™.

‘Thank you,’ says Mr Naked and Afraid. Fuck, the shop lighting is doing him more favours than he needs. ‘You won’t get in any trouble for this?’

‘Nah. I might get chewed out1 for this, but that’ll be the worst of it.’

‘Sorry. But thank you. Thank you. I’m George.’

Good. Mr Naked and Afraid is becoming a mouthful.

‘I’m Eva. How can I help, George?’

‘Do you have any spare clothes?’

‘It’s just me here, mate.’

‘I know. Can’t hurt to ask.’

Can I say, ‘You have balls’? Is that appropriate at a time like this? I exhale audibly. ‘Give me a second.’ I retreat into the staffroom behind the counter. Colin deserves a better staffroom than a lad hangout. I’ll clean up when there isn’t a naked man waiting on me outside — or not. I’m not their helper. I sort through the coat rack for something suitable. Andrew is the closest to George in stature, I think. Operating on that approximation, I grab Andrew’s jacket and trousers. I don’t want to have to think too hard about what my co-workers look like underneath their clothes. Besides, Andrew’s clothes have been here for ages. He won’t miss them.

‘Try these,’ I say.

‘Thank you. I’ll clean and return them, I promise.’ He reaches over the counter for the clothes.

‘Not so fast. Give me the craziest reason you’re butt naked, and if I like it, you get the clothes.’

‘Really?’

‘I have to tell my manager something. Might as well be something weird so I don’t get chewed out too hard.’

‘Fine.’ He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the shop — in search of inspiration, perhaps. I’d love to hear what he comes up with. He looks like someone with a good sense of humour. If we’d met elsewhere, I’d have thought about asking for his number and then chickening out at the last minute, because women like me don’t get anywhere with men like him. I keep a lookout on the entrance for any customers or co-workers, mostly because I don’t want to share this moment with anyone else.

‘Clock’s ticking, George.’

‘You didn’t say there’s a time limit.’

‘I’m not the one with my arse out in public.’

‘Alright. I’m a werewolf. I must’ve messed something up, because I got out of my flat last night and woke up in Trafalgar Square. I live in Hampstead. See these scars? It’s all me.’

I stare at him. He’s staring back at me, expecting a response. He looks serious. I — I can’t. I burst out laughing. Of all the things I thought I’d hear, that isn’t one of them.

‘That’s one I haven’t heard before. I love it.’

‘Yeah? Can I then —’

‘Not before you answer one more question, wolf boy.’ I mean that nickname with utmost sincerity.

‘Seriously …?’ Red blotches his cheeks. ‘Okay, okay.’

‘Were you born a werewolf or were you bitten?’

‘How is that relevant?’

‘Humour me.’

He rakes his hair with his fingers, and holds his inhalation and blink long enough for it to mean ‘I should’ve gone to the next corner shop’. Little does he know that his exasperation is making him look more attractive. I’ll treasure this moment forever. ‘Born. You don’t see any bite marks, do you?’

‘Touché. Here.’ I pass him the clothes.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

‘No, thank you for the laugh,’ I say, looking away from him as he tries Andrew’s trousers on for size. Andrew’s fashion sense is being wasted on us corner shop plebeians. ‘I love horror and supernatural shit. That was perfect.’

‘Cool.’ For fuck’s sake, he can also pull off the loud, brash prints Andrew favours? This is unfair. ‘I’ll pop these in the washer when I get home, and I’ll return them to you …’

‘I’m working tonight. I’ll be here at ten.’ Technically, I start work at midnight. Andrew’s scheduled for the evening shift today, and I’d love to see his face when George returns with his clothes. I can’t remember how long these specific items have been in the staffroom. Plus, like, ten o’clock is an acceptable time to meet someone who lives in Hampstead and probably has standard working hours, isn’t it? ‘If that’s not too late for you.’

‘That’s fine. Thanks again, Eva.’ He’s said the T word so many times, it’s starting to sound weird to my ears. Semantic satiation — that’s what the phenomenon is called. I learnt this from the 3,722nd post I read on Reddit some nights ago.

‘You’re welcome, wolf boy. See you tonight.’

He grins. ‘See you.’

Just as he turns to leave, I swear, I swear on my copy of The Killing Joke with a frayed spine because I put it in the same bag as my water tumbler with a loose cap, I see a flash of fangs.

✦✧✦✧

‘You’re here early,’ says Andrew.

‘It’s midnight somewhere in the world.’ I don’t join him behind the counter. I’m scheduled to start work at midnight, and that is exactly what I’ll do. Overtime means nothing to me. (I say that like it’s applicable in this instance.) ‘Did a guy come in to look for me?’

‘Nope. Hey, do you know what happened to my trousers and jacket? First one’s floral; second one’s mustard.’ Doesn’t it just sound like a ghastly combination? Andrew can pull it off. So can George — both items at the same time. I’ve only seen Andrew in one or the other.

‘Funny story, that.’

‘Share.’

‘Okay, picture this: It’s fuck o’clock in the wee hours of the morning. Sun’s coming up. I’m on my second tumbler of coffee and running out of things to keep myself entertained. Suddenly, a naked bloke is asking to be let in; he’s begging. He doesn’t look drunk or high. I let him in because I’m a bleeding heart at heart. He asks me for spare clothes. Thank God you treat this place like your second closet. I ask him to hit me with the craziest reason he’s naked to help me decide if I should help him. He says he’s a werewolf.’ I am fighting to hold in my laughter. ‘And he says it with the straightest face you can imagine.’

‘Eva, this bloke was hot, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but —’

‘You’d have given him the clothes no matter what he said.’

‘I didn’t tell you this story for you to call me out like that.’

‘You’re welcome. Does Colin know you breached one of the shop’s sacred creeds?’

‘Does he have to know?’

‘No comment. It’s not my arse on the line.’

‘Colin won’t do me dirty like that. I did a good deed.’

‘… No comment. Am I going to get my stuff back?’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘Bollocks, I thought it’s because you like my company.’

‘Why not both?’

The bell above the door jangles, cutting our conversation short. It’s none other than the man of the hour himself. Never have I been this ecstatic to see someone enter the shop. He has no business filling out his grey shirt as well as he is.

‘George! Hi!’ I drown out Andrew’s snicker. Can’t I be excited about speaking with an attractive, charming man who isn’t drunk or in need of goods and services a corner shop can provide in the shop at this time of night? I might also never see him again after this, so as far as I’m concerned, I deserve every second of this.

‘Hello, Eva,’ says George. ‘Got the clothes cleaned like I said I would.’ He shows me the paper bag in his hand. McDonald’s. I can hear Andrew’s heart giving out. ‘Thank you again.’

I take the bag from him and place it on the counter, the golden arches staring Andrew in the face. ‘You’re welcome. You should thank him, too.’ I jerk my thumb at my near-apoplectic co-worker. ‘This is Andrew. The clothes are his.’

‘Thank you,’ George says to the other man, who responds with a tight-lipped nod, still in the midst of computing what he did in a past life to deserve having his clothes returned to him in a McDonald’s paper bag. ‘I followed the instructions on the labels as best I could. If I ruined something, I’d be happy to pay you back for it.’

‘Thanks, mate.’ Andrew takes the clothes out of the bag and gives them a quick once-over. ‘Looks good. You can have the bag back.’ He pushes it toward George with his finger.

‘Okay …’ George takes the bag, flattens and folds it into a neat square, and holds it under his arm. ‘Eva, I can’t — I can’t thank you enough for this morning. Last night was … weird.’ He swallowed.

‘Yeah, sure …’ I wink at him. ‘… wolf boy.’

‘Are you working now?’

‘No, but I will be in’ — I consult my watch — ‘an hour and a half’s time. I came in early because I know I don’t have the same concept of day and night as most people.’

‘Graveyard shift: fun as shit’ is Andrew’s sterling contribution to this part of the conversation. I like that, actually.

‘You didn’t have to — I’m more of a night owl,’ says George. Is that because he has a closer affinity to the night because of what he is? I convince myself it is. ‘Do you want to go get some coffee nearby? It’s the least I can do. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say. I should talk to Colin about this soon. ‘Sure, I’d love some coffee. Be a dear and watch the shop for me, will you, Andrew?’

✦✧✦✧

George leads me into his flat. Our bellies are full from dinner. I love and hate eating with him sometimes. I love his company, obviously; I hate that he can put away so much without any of it showing on him. Earlier, he had pork chops, lamb meatball stew, and a fudge brownie with ice cream. I get that he needs all that protein to maintain his figure, and I’d love and support him all the same if he were, but he’s not an Olympics athlete like Michael Phelps. Nonetheless, all that food’s imbued him with oodles of energy, the kind that’s seen us seek to end the night on a more gratifying note at someone’s place. (Mine’s out of the question tonight because my flatmate’s working toward the same goal with her latest squeeze.)

The farthest we make it before the urge to eat each other’s faces overpowers us is the sofa. I’m on top of him, just showering him with gentle kisses on his lips, and sometimes his cheeks and nose. I’m content with savouring his taste for now. His breathing is heavy. He’s warm to the touch. His kisses are more insistent. I yield to his desperate, almost plaintive moans and allow our tongues the pleasure of getting to know each other better. His hand is feverishly fondling my thigh and hip; the latter has developed a mind of its own, grinding up against him. Deciding our mouths couldn’t have all the fun, I move on to his neck, which he kindly bares for me. His throat is thrumming with — growls?

I look up at him and say, ‘Do you hear that?’

‘Hm?’ His eyelids flutter open. I gasp.

Staring back at me are yellow eyes, brilliant and wild.

Oh, my God.

‘George — your —’

‘Why?’ He puts his hand to his mouth. ‘Shit.’ I get off him. I see the fangs I thought I saw the first time we met. ‘What’s today’s date?’

‘It’s the eighth.’

‘Fuck!’ The force with which he cursed propels him out of his seat. ‘You have to go. I’m sorry,’ he says, taking off his shirt. His chest sheens with sweat. ‘I forgot.’

I don’t need to ask him what it is he forgot: I know the answer on a primeval level. I know I should leave. I stand transfixed by what’s happening before me. His flesh twists and ripples. The growls get louder. The proportions of the hand on his chest — hairier than I’ve ever known it to be — are all wrong. Poking — pushing out from underneath his fingernails are claws. He turns away from me. The sight of protruding knobs of bone under the skin along his spine causes chills to run down mine. My poor George. My poor wolf boy.

‘I’ll go,’ I say, as much as I want to stay with him. ‘Will you be okay?’ I shake my head. Stupid question. He’s in agony.

‘I’ll be fine.’ There is greater conviction in the violent gurgle that follows than his words. ‘Now go. Please.’ His back arches and expands with muscle. He cries out in pain.

I do as he says. I hear the locks rattle and turn behind me. Though his strained growls and yips are horrible to hear, I stick around outside his door. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I don’t quite feel afraid either of what I saw in there or of what I now know. Instead, I feel … I press my legs together and bite my lip. Not the time. After what feels like an eternity of guttural noises that have no right coming from a human throat, a howl, long, almost melodious, pierces the air. It’s almost … reassuring. So much about him makes sense now.

I take my phone from my bag, and I send him the following: ’Text me when you see this. Love you.’

✦✧✦✧

I shift on my feet as I wait for George to answer the door. I’m worried about him. Does he not want to see me anymore after last night? No, it’s an insult to the both of us for me to think that he thinks I’d be narrow-minded enough to stop wanting to be with him because of what he is. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The food I brought for him is getting cold. Can he smell it from inside his flat? I press the doorbell again. I wish he had a neighbour to tell me what I can do in times like this.

The door opens. He looks a mess: he’s in boxers, and his hair is sticking out every which way. His eyes go wide. The memory of his yellow eyes resurfaces. I feel a little weak in my knees.

‘Good morning, love. I came to see if everything is okay,’ I say, ‘and I brought breakfast.’ I show him the paper bag. The food inside still smells good.

‘I thought —’ He doesn’t need to complete his sentence for me to know what he means. It’s written plainly in the furrow of his brow, the sadness in his eyes. Damn it. I didn’t want to be proven right about that.

‘Of course not. You didn’t see my message?’

‘I haven’t checked my messages. Sorry.’

‘Oh.’

‘Please, come in. Are you off work today?’

I nod.

His flat, too, is in disarray. It looks just as if an animal went wild in here. Pillows and books are all over the floor; some of the former have been ripped apart. Sunlight shines through the gaping holes in the curtains. Nothing’s broken, at least. George’s head hangs low. ‘I haven’t had the time to clean up … nor was I expecting visitors. I called in sick to work and went back to sleep. I forget what happens when I don’t take my meds before I transform.’

‘Let me guess — the last time that happened was a year ago?’

‘Yeah, probably. I don’t know. That was — that was different. I guess I was too excited about our date that I forgot what yesterday was.’

I walk him to the sofa, and we sit down. The food is left to sit out on the coffee table. ‘It’s okay,’ I say, stroking his arm lovingly. ‘I wasn’t … I’m not freaked out or anything. I love horror and supernatural shit after all.’ I chuckle nervously, more so because I hate my tendency to resort to awful humour in an attempt to defuse tense situations. ‘So, um … I owe you an apology for laughing at you when you first told me.’

‘Don’t. I could’ve said something else. I didn’t. I wanted the clothes fast, and after the night I’d had, that was the most out-there thing I could think of in a snap.’

‘Yeah, then I made it into a thing between us! I call you “wolf boy”! You never asked me to stop! And I told everyone how we met! Everyone knows you’re a werewolf!’ I gasp. So. Many. Exclamation. Marks.

‘This is our thing. Only you know for certain. I feel like I can breathe now.’

I lay my head on his chest. ‘You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to hide.’

‘That first sentence sounds like something I’m supposed to say.’

‘So, George … about last night … was that because you were about to — or …’

His words come out almost in a snarl: ‘I wanted you. I want you.’ His lips are centimetres away from my neck. His breath is hot on my skin.

‘Are we like … mates now, then?’ I giggle as I draw an indiscriminate shape on his chest with my finger. I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time last night reading up on wolf behaviour. The thought of what lies in store for me is a little exhilarating, an observation I had a mild developmental crisis over when I felt that first pang of passion from applying what I read to our relationship.

‘Yes.’

He licks my neck. My core tingles with excitement at the ramifications of his declaration — for the record, I meant it as a light-hearted question — and at what’s about to come next, based on my research. Then he pushes me down onto my back, and I see his eyes, still blue, flicker with the same intensity as last night. He hikes up my dress and gets straight to nuzzling my mound. He laps his tongue over my underwear and inner thighs, the strokes long, soft. I hum impatiently. My underwear is getting soaked. He slides it off my pelvis, and he promptly buries his face in my folds. Fingers come into the picture soon after. I writhe in his grasp, desiring release.

And Lord, does it come.

I don’t get to wait for my legs to stop quivering, as he rises from between them and says, ‘On all fours, love’, his voice a lusty rasp. I scramble to my hands and knees. He’s never asked for this before. I’m liking this greater sense of freedom he now has around me. How much had he been holding back? I spread myself for him. He pushes his cock up against my slit. I let out a small, startled ‘Oh’ when he enters me. I feel pinpricks where his fingertips are. Each thrust is deep and brutal. It hurts a little, but it hurts so good. I press the side of my face into the couch and close my eyes. Stars crash into each other in the blackness behind my eyelids.

Though he’s the werewolf here, I’m the one whimpering and moaning like an animal, too, while he huffs and growls with each movement. The sounds encourage him. ‘Please, don’t stop, don’t stop …’ I breathe. My walls convulse around his girth and fill up with an unbearable heat and wetness. Come drips out of me and trickles down my thighs. Then his thrusts become shallower and rough, his fingertips threaten to leave bruises on my skin, and he empties himself inside me. He lets out a strangled howl; my lip almost bleeds from how hard I’m biting down.

I feel so empty, almost a little sad, when he pulls out. I settle into a lounging position on the sofa. He wedges himself behind me. I gently fondle his business, still hard. He resumes licking my neck, sometimes rubbing his face on my skin.

‘I’m sorry if that was … weird. It’s the first time I fucked like that — and the first time I fucked after the full moon.’

I turn around and kiss him. ‘You were amazing.’ His ears turn pink. ‘Am I your first girlfriend who knows?’

‘Yes. About being mates …’ He pulls me closer to him. ‘I can do something about that. If you want. No pressure. It’s a huge decision.’

I won’t lie and say I didn’t consider the idea at least once last night. The dream I had about transforming and running alongside him on all fours can attest to that. But I tell him, ‘I need to think about it first.’ I don’t want him to think I’m rushing headlong into something I have little to no knowledge about. (Tabbing back and forth between pages about wolf behaviour for at least two hours doesn’t make me an expert. I’m not even sure if it’s relevant.) I also wasn’t expecting this question to come up so soon, considering he thought I’d leave him. I sweep my thumb across his lips, then his nose. ‘Maybe if I see you in your wolf form first …’

‘Fair enough. Promise me you’ll still love me the same after you’ve seen him. He’s more fun than I am, even when hopped up on industrial-strength bear tranquiliser.’

‘It’s going to take a lot to top what I’ve seen in the last year — and the last hour.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m in trouble.’

I spend the day at his place. (What? I’m taking a mental health day, and being with my boyfriend does wonders for my mood.) We fuck several more times, unable to get enough of each other; we’re like lovesick puppies. He lets shades of his true self slip through on occasion. He assures me it’s not because of the full moon. I assure him I know. Until today, I didn’t think it’d been possible for him to become more alluring. I give him my answer to his offer before sunset, which he happily accepts. At the end of the day, I lie in my wolf boy’s arms, waxing gratitude for the graveyard shift at the corner shop a year ago.

[lallyloo]

Pheromones

(After the mention of Link sniffing underwear on GMM today, @fanbabble and I started texting/writing boxer-sniffing fic. This is the result.) Link is annoyed to find Rhett’s clothes in the bathroom again. They have a washer in the creative house just for this purpose! He grabs them to throw in the laundry. He looks down and notices Rhett’s wearing those expensive-ass Armani underwear again. They look a little damp. And the smell can’t help but work its way to his nose as he walks down the hallway. By the time he reaches the laundry room something has clicked in his brain. He throws the shorts and the tee and Rhett’s socks in the washer.  He’s left holding the grey boxers.  His vision gets a little hazy as he holds them to his nose and takes a deep breath.  He can smell sweat, of course, acrid and pungent. But there's more. Another smell. Something strong and musky, and Link takes another deep inhale, chasing the scent.

The thickness of it fills his nostrils, coating him in it, traveling down to the back of his throat. It's so thick Link swears he can almost taste it. Rhett's dick. The damp sweat that's dripped from his balls has left a wet mark on his boxers, and brought with it a lingering reminder that Rhett's cock has been in these boxers. And now Link is so close he can smell it. Maybe even taste it. He inhales again, breathing in the scent from between Rhett's thighs -- a smell that's usually kept secret from him, one of the only secrets they keep from each other -- and Link exhales a loud groan as his free hand slips to his own cock and he gives himself a squeeze through his grey jeans. He doesn't think it over, doesn't consider whether it's a good decision, he only knows he's doing this. He has to. His brain tells him 'yes', and his dick is shouting 'DO IT', and his jeans are open and loosened and his hand slips in easily, dips beneath the waistband of his boxers, and down.. His dick is hot and he groans again as his cool fingers wrap around his hard length and he gives himself another strong squeeze. He knows this will go too quickly if he's not careful. He feels like he could come just from Rhett's scent alone, and something burns in him, something almost wild. Link tips his head back and holds Rhett's underwear over his face, breathing in again, deep, deep, deep, and he pants out a pleasurable exhale. It feels wrong, and dirty, and it's so fucking hot Link's dick strains in his hand and leaks a trail of precum into his boxers. "Fuck, Rhett.." Link breathes as the scent of Rhett fills him again, the earthy musk of him coating the back of Link's throat. He can almost imagine Rhett is right there -- his body slick with sweat, his cock throbbing as he holds it to Link's lips and silently asks him to take it. And Link would, without question. He'd bury his face in Rhett's groin, inhaling the scent of him, tasting his sweat and moaning as Rhett dripped over his tongue. Link moans against the boxers, and he wants to try it, he needs to know how Rhett tastes. His tongue lolls out and laps against the damp fabric, and as the salty taste hits his taste buds Link thrusts into his hand, his hips moving on their own accord, his body needing friction and release, and fuck, he's going to come in the laundry room at the creative house.. But he's too far gone now to worry about it. Link pauses just long enough to shimmy his jeans down his thighs so he's standing bare-assed in the creative house, his cock out and leaking long lines onto the floor. Usually he'd hate it -- he dislikes a mess, can't leave it alone -- but sex is different. He thrills in making a mess, the naughtiness of letting his dick leak onto the floor is enough to make him gasp and press Rhett's underwear harder against his face. He's careful to not get too far off track, afraid he'll lose that sweet wet spot, and he flattens his tongue on it and takes in whatever taste it will give him, thrusting into his fist as he does it, his dick making a slick slick sound as he fucks into his hand. He's so wet, his cock leaking so much he hasn't had to worry about how to lube himself, his dick's done it on its own with no effort, and fuck, the way his cockhead slips through his tightened fingers with a pop pop pop makes his hips stutter and he breathes in Rhett again. He's so close. He can imagine Rhett there, fucking into his mouth and coming hard, pulling out to smear over his lips and across his cheeks, and Link's face would burn as Rhett painted him, and he'd lick him clean and beg for more, and eventually Rhett would do it again, or maybe he'd turn Link around and rail him. Link inhales again, breathing in Rhett, as he imagines Rhett pounding into him, that sweet musky cock giving Link the fucking of his life, and he's coming then, for real, gasping against the wet fabric as he shoots over his fingers and onto the floor. He's up on his tiptoes, his body sending him back a few feet as he spurts onto the tile, still blinded by the boxers over his face. He's still breathing harshly as he gives the underwear one last sniff, then he rubs them down his face and pulls them away. For a split second he considers keeping them -- stuffing them into his pocket to save for future use -- but he knows it won't be the the same, and Rhett's sure to notice if they're missing. Reluctantly, he tosses them into the washer and takes a quick look at the floor. He tosses a spare towel over the mess of jizz, determined to come back and clean it properly after he's washed the evidence of his misdeed off his own body. Link quickly slips his spent dick back into his boxers, cringing a little at the cold dampness, and he heads for the door. He's got a shower on his mind, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns the corner and slams right into Rhett. He's too speechless to even swear -- he just stares up at Rhett, his lips opening and closing like a stupid fish. "Am I interruptin' somethin'?" Rhett's got a smirk on his mouth and Link doesn't know whether he wants to smack it off or kiss it. "When'd you get here?" Link manages to ask. "A while ago. Heard some ruckus in the laundry room and thought I'd check it out." "Why didn't you say something?" "You seemed to be doin' just fine." Rhett's still smirking at him and Link can only frown back. "You could'a stopped me. I'd feel a hell of a lot less stupid right now." "Man, I wasn't gonna stop you. I'm not judgin'." Link's still frowning. "Rhett." "Hell," Rhett continues, "I would'a joined you, but I wasn't sure if you were doin' it ‘cause of me or ‘cause of the boxers. Thought maybe you were some kinda panty sniffer." "Shut up." "Hey man, I told ya, I'm not judgin'!" "It's not the-- not panties--" Link stammers before quickly correcting himself, "I mean, not the underwear." Rhett's watching him, like he's waiting to hear Link say it. "It's because they're yours," Link admits and he can feel his face burning. He'll never live this one down. Rhett says no judgement, but he knows Rhett will never let him forget it. He'll be an 'underwear sniffer' for life. But Rhett's not laughing, and he takes hold of Link's wrist and pulls him away from the hallway and into the living room. "I got new ones on," Rhett's saying, "clean, I mean, not so sweaty.. But if you wanna.." Link doesn't let him finish, he just pushes Rhett down onto the couch and falls to his knees.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story , so I have changed a decent amount of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy this one. )

~~~

“Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?” Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn’t the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

It was the only place that still had the vacancy sign on, so Brom had grudgingly agreed to see if they had a room that could accommodate them. Everyone needed a boost in morale, and a night in a bed and a hot shower would do the trick to lift their spirits. It was isolated enough that it would take a long time for any soldiers to reach them if anyone recognized them, and Saphira was well hidden in the small forest nearby. She could respond to any danger and was far enough away to be virtually undetectable.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. “It’s one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking.” She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom’s upper pocket. “Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside.”

“I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?”

“It’s ten extra Crowns.” The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk’s clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn’t react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. “We’ll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don’t have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse.” Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. “Thank you.”

Brom traded payment for the keys, extra bedding and toiletries and bid the sour attendant a good night. Murtagh grabbed the cot and the trio moved into the elevator, squeezing to one side to fit the roller bed in along with their packs. As the doors slid shut and they began ascending, Eragon leaned over to Brom. “How’s Arya going to–”

“Shut up. Not here.” Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It’s little red light was flashing.

The three exited the elevator in silence, quickly making their way to their room while checking as many exits as possible without arousing suspicion. Whenever he found a camera, Murtagh would point it out to Eragon and Brom as inconspicuously as he could. It would be best to keep out of the security tapes in case the soldiers came across the hotel after they left.

Upon finally reaching the room, Brom locked all the available bolts, chains and electronic locks he could as Murtagh unfolded the cot. Eragon checked the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, tested out the small A/C unit, then sat on the bed with a sigh.

“Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?” The boy asked, stretching tiredly. “Don’t tell me she’s going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us.”

Murtagh snorted, muttering something along the lines of the elf desperately needing one instead of deserving it, and pushed the cot into the corner so he would have a clear line of sight of both the door and the window from the side. Brom gestured to the aforementioned window, which was parallel to the bed Eragon was sitting on, and grunted, “Open that.”

Perturbed, Eragon did as he was asked and opened the window fully, the metal frame bumping the outer wall. A humid breeze swept in, lending the room the scent of damp leaves and warm night air. The young Rider braced his hands on the sill and leaned out to breathe it in.

A soft series of scuffing noises were all the warning he had before Arya was suddenly staring him in the eyes, comfortably resting her chin on the sill as she crouched with her feet against the outer wall and sure fingers gripping the windowsill. “Well hello.”

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. “How the hell did you just–”

“Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it.” Eragon backed away from the window as the woman ‘hopped’ into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. “Don’t gape. I parkoured most of it. It’s forty bloody feet up, even we can’t do that.”

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. “Did anyone see you?”

Arya shook her head. “No. If they did, it was at a distance.”

“Good thing we had you switch clothes.” The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, great. I’ll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I’ll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I’ll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still.”

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. “I might have an idea.” He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. “We’re pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag.”

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn’t want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. “Here! This could at least cover your ears. It’s not perfect, but it’ll be good in a pinch.”

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, “Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies.” And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

Dressed as she was, Arya looked almost no different from a human woman, if a bit on the angsty side. Dark loose jeans, grey hoodie, black shirt and a dark navy blue beanie tugged low over the tips of her pointed ears certainly gave her a brooding look, especially when leaning against the wall of a hotel and shooting glowering stares at anyone that even glanced at her. As long as no one got close enough to examine her facial structure, she would pass for human.

“Who wants to shower first?” Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. “Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done.”

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. “Ah, I don’t care. I’ll go first if you don’t want it, Brom.”

“All yours.” The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. “Feel free to shave. There’s a razor in there, fuzz face.” Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. “Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you’re at least out of easy sight.”

“Was planning on sleeping there anyway.” She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. “Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. “You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one.” She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. “So, um…you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don’t they know you’re an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can’t you just go as is?”

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. “They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional…remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur’s crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second.” Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. “So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave.”

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don’t trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?’ He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you, though? You’re helping them, and you’ve fought for them. Don’t they respect that? Haven’t you at least tried change their minds?”

Arya leveled her gaze with his. “Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I’m sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves.” She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. “Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can’t let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I’m okay with that.”

“Don’t give the boy any ideas.” Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. “And no getting him drunk. Unless I’m there. Then, well…we’ll see.”

Arya waved him off. “I know, I know.”

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. “Alright, who’s next?” He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

“You’re up, kid.” Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya’s arm. “When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I’m putting that lightly.”

The elf chuckled. “Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I’ve gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It’s been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point.”

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. “Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!” He lifted his head slightly. “Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room.”

“I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda.” Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

“–nds the economic report. Here’s Karl Yorgisson with the day’s news.”

Brom snorted. “Told you.”

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. “Shush, I want to hear this.”

“Thanks, Jason.” Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. “Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"We again advise that you keep your eyes peeled for any faces you have seen on watch boards. Remember, not only is there a sizable reward for information, there is also the pride that comes with defending your King and country from the insidious terrorists that lurk in our midst.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–”

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. “Well, that’s good. They’re not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can’t inform the general public about us or why they’re searching for us.”

“Attacked Gil'ead my arse.” Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. “I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don’t need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period.”

“Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can’t cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion.” Arya pointed out. “Besides, they’ll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden.”

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. “Wait…. You’re telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?”

“Never happened?” The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. “Of course they never happened! We don’t send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there.” She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. “Honestly! It’s too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!”

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. “Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?”

“That is different.” Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. “We weren’t attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I’d prefer it if you didn’t make quips about it.”

“I apologize.” Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. “It was in bad taste.”

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. “Apology accepted. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Murtagh shrugged. “Eh. Natural response.” The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon’s off key humming, and country music. Then, “What’s a frin br… fyrn bri….”

“Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language.” Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. “Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term.” He jerked his chin in Arya’s direction. “If I’m not mistaken, that is.”

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. “Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Arya’s jaw tightened slightly. “Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory.” She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

’Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.’ Murtagh’s heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he’d probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.’ The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

“Oi. Don’t sleep yet. You have to do laundry.” Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn’t even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, “Then wake me up when it’s ready to be done.” and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn’t take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

“I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep.” She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man’s reaction.

“Can’t have you wandering around out there.” Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. “If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast.”

“So I’m pretty much useless at this point in time?” Arya asked dryly. “Dear me, I’m in a room where I can’t leave. Out of one jail and into another.”

“Don’t get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh’s and maybe the angst will wear off.” The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. “Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?”

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. “Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?”

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, “Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there!”

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. “I’ll be done in a minute!”

“Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!”

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. “He’s a teenage boy. He needs his alone time.” She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. “Better he do that in there than when he thinks we’re all asleep.”

“He should have thought of ’alone time’ before he left Carvahall.” Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. “And trust me, you don’t get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind.”

“Poor Saphira!”

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“You could have just told me to hurry up.” The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. “Aye, but then you wouldn’t have actually gotten out right when I asked.”

“Well, I wasn't–” His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. “I wouldn’t do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?” Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

“Hey, I’m not saying anything.” Arya put her hands up. “What you do in the shower is none of my business.”

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. “You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh’s.”

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn’t seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

“You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to.” She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon’s general direction. “If you…um…if you don’t want to sleep on the floor we could…you know, split sheet.”

Eragon’s ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. “Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout.” The Rider mumbled a ’good point’ and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf’s dark eyes. “Is Saphira doing alright out there?”

“Yeah. She’s asleep.” Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. “I think she’s a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she’s been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night.”

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya’s lips as she turned another page. “I think we’ve all earned a little rest.”

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira’s sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. “Yeah.” He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. “G'night, Arya.”

“Good night, kid.”

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh’s bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

“Take as long as you want.” Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. “I’m sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep.”

“I’ll try not to destroy the entire hotel’s hot water supply.” Arya grinned wryly as she stood. “I’ll wake you if anything concerning happens.”

~~~

Arya shut off the water and watched the last dregs slide down the drain. It had taken ten minutes of soap, scrubbing and hot water to get the water flowing off her body to run lighter than dark grey. Another ten minutes saw it finally run clear, and five minutes under shockingly cold spray soothed the vicious burning in her healing wounds and scars. She shook herself and wrung out her hair as much as she could before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

A few brief minutes later she was again clothed in her borrowed jeans and her sports bra, and she stepped out of the bathroom. A quick check confirmed that Murtagh had not yet returned. He slipped inside just as the elf was tying off the last strip of bandage around her leg, the rest of the shredded sheet already wrapped around her torso.

“Heads up.” Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. “Good night, Arya.”

“'Night, Murtagh.” The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph’ of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

Eragon tore the covers off as a shrill alarm stabbed into his ears. For a confusing moment lights and sound blinded him. He threw his mind out to Saphira to see through her eyes, only to remember that she was a league away, hiding in the woods. He felt her wake and surge to her feet, his panic alarming her.

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon’s left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh’s borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

Of all of them, Murtagh appeared to be the least disturbed by the noise. He sat lacing up his boots, already clothed in his travel gear, and his previously covered rifle was laid out on the bed within arms reach. As he picked the weapon up and chambered the first round Eragon realized the man was swearing in a steady monotone, never once reusing a word. When he seemed to run out of words in the common human language, he switched to what Eragon gathered was a dialect from his local hometown. His vocabulary was impressive to say the least.

“What the bloody hell is happening?” Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. “From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they’re setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak.”

Murtagh’s muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. “Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–”

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. “What’s the alarm about then?” He checked that Zar'roc’s hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

“They’re trying to lure us to the emergency exit.” Brom growled. “Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her.”

'There won’t be anything to see if I eat them all.’ The dragon hissed in response. Eragon’s jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I’ll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.’

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh’s swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. “How are we getting out?” The younger Rider asked. “We can’t go out and we can’t go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can’t carry four people.”

“Theta Rescue.” Arya grabbed Eragon’s backpack before he could pick it up. “Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.’” She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

“Only if you’re up for it.” Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. “It’s quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won’t help.”

“No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets.” Her head cocked to the side. “They’re sweeping the floor below us.”

“Theta it is.” Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. “Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. “What are you doing?”

Arya flashed him a grin that didn’t reach her now flinty eyes. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don’t wiggle.”

“Wigg–” Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman’s carry. He only had time to spit out a quick “Oh Sweet Sara–” before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?’ She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.’ Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I’m going to hear about this later, aren’t I?’

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You’re just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.’ With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.’

'Yes ma'am.’ Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse’s hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.

[ill-skillsgard]

Can you write something inspired by Bill's look in Do you like the taste of beer?😇 You are his night guest when you are in town for work but he's just a friend of a friend that you think is too pretentious. Cute but nothing special. That's until you see him in just his boxers and without glasses...

The lodging situation was not what you expected at all. Your semi-close friend from school promised a nice, clean apartment where you could spend the weekend with no one to bother you. The apartment belonged to his friend, which made the owner a friend of a friend, and you didn't do so well with people you didn't know. 

Your friend assured you'd be alone for the duration of the weekend, so when a tall, bespectacled man greeted you the moment you unlocked the door with a key you got from a hidden lockbox attached to a pole in the parking lot, your blood drained into your feet. 

"Oh! Oh my God, did I come at the wrong time?" You asked the brown-haired man standing in the hallway. 

"No, no, you're fine. I just wanted to say hi and explain some things to you before you..." he gestured at your arms full of bags. "Do whatever it is you're doing. Getting some work done?" 

You looked down at your overnight bag and satchel full of supplies. "Uh, yeah. I'm passing through and didn't want to pay hotel rates. They're insane in this city."

The tall man nodded broadly, having fully understood your complaint. He tucked his palms into the sleeves of his grey sweater and stepped out of the way. You cringed at the thought of making yourself at home in another person's space, but it was too late now. 

"You can use the entire apartment, of course," the man announced as he padded through the kitchen toward the counter and a cell phone plugged into the wall. "Have anything you want to eat, although there's not a whole lot. If you want to order food, the buzzer number is sixty-two thirty-four. All I ask is you clean up after yourself. Recycling, trash and compost are all under the sink. Dishes go in the washer. There's a gym on the top floor if you want to work out."

"I'll be okay," you said.

The man pressed the bridge of his glasses and motioned you down the hall. You followed him to an open door into a sizeable room. The setting sun blinded you both until he drew the curtains, cutting off the view of the glinting city. "Here's your room. I'm next door, but you don't have to worry about me."

Confused, you said nothing and set your bags down at the foot of the bed. It seemed your friend had misinformed you, but what were you to say? That you were uncomfortable staying in the apartment when the owner was still there? It would be terribly obtuse to show any kind of ungratefulness. After all, you were paying nothing to use the space, and the loft was nicely decorated and warm—the exact kind of place you'd rent out for a weekend of uninterrupted concentration.

He promised not to be a bother, but warned you might cross paths in the kitchen. He had an ensuite bathroom which minimized the chances of you bumping shoulders in the hallway. After his brief rundown, he left you on your own. You sequestered yourself in the room, put on your headset and texted your friend about the presence he'd omitted.

After a few hours, you forgot all about the man and dove into your work, resurfacing only after you'd chipped off a large amount of productivity. When you slipped off your headset to give your ears a break from pressing into your skull, you heard muttering on the other side of the wall. 

He spoke in another language, something Scandinavian and fraught with resentment. You rubbed the shells of your ears to restore blood flow, then replaced the headset and turned the volume up on your favourite song.

The morning forced you out into the kitchen. You could no longer beat your hunger off with a force of will. Shy as ever, even in the empty kitchen, you searched for something to tide you over, then decided you'd pack up your laptop and find the nearest cafe to sit down and order a hot drink and a sandwich. At least there you didn't have to worry about a stranger regarding you in their home.

The door at the end of the hall opened, followed by the slapping of bare feet on the wood floor. The man turned the corner into the kitchen, groggy and without his glasses. Your eyes widened at the sight of him in tight black boxer briefs, cupping a prominent bulge. 

"Good morning," he said.

"Hi."

He turned toward the counter, giving you a full view of his broad back and shoulders, the backs of his thighs and his mussed brown hair. Only then did you notice his true size; how tall the man was compared to you. When you had reached for a cup, you had to stand on your tiptoes, getting a knee up on the counter to propel yourself. He didn't struggle at all. Everything in the high cupboards was easily reachable.

And he caught you staring when he turned around. You pretended like you weren't analyzing his figure, but it was too late. It was your nature to watch, to catalogue the people and features and structures around you. But in the uncertainty of another's territory, your scrutiny was inexcusable.

"See something you like?" He asked.

"What?" You chuffed, cheeks suddenly inflamed.

He stepped away from the open cupboard and motioned toward the array of herbal tea. Your lungs deflated, but your skin remained hot.

"Oh, um... No, thanks."

He toyed with the string on the tea bag he'd selected, reaching to adjust the glasses missing from his face. You noticed the unique golden green of his eyes and how they commanded attention by being the brightest things in the room.

"Well, maybe I can interest you in something else?"

You don't know how it happened, or rather, you wished not to admit how easy it was for you to forget your discomfort in favour of joining him on the sofa. With his little boxers around his ankles and your underwear stretched away from your opening, he placed you on his lap and let his cock find your opening. 

Driven by hormonal impulse and a lust to explore unusual scenarios, you let the man fuck you as hard as he pleased. He clamped his large hands on your hips and pulled you forward, barred your arms behind your back, reached up between your shoulder blades to wind his fingers through your hair, and kissed down your neck and chest, ignoring your nipples in favour of smoother plains of skin. He let you keep your outfit on. All he wanted was your wetness. He didn't even kiss your lips. This wasn't about romance, and he would not make sure you orgasmed after him. 

The only thing he asked was for permission to come inside of you, and when he did, it was no fireworks show. He pumped his cock in and out, enjoying the added lubrication coating his shaft and your insides, then sighed and set you next to him like a used sex doll ready to be packed up and stored away for next time. He stood up and kicked his boxers off his ankles and then swept them off the floor to wipe the residue from his cock.

"I'll get you a towel. Unless you'd rather use the shower?"

Cleanliness was the furthest thing from your mind, but his expectant look made you fear he was dropping a hint.

"Oh... Sure," you said.

"Thanks, by the way. That was nice."

"Was it?"

"I enjoyed myself."

"That's good," you rolled your eyes.

"Sorry, are you not satisfied? You didn't have to ride my dick, you know. You could have said no."

"No, it's fine."

It was awkward to sit on the sofa while he stood nearby, stark naked with one last clear bubble of fluid threatening to plummet from the tip of his spent manhood.

"Oh, I see what's going on here," he stuck his finger in the air. "You wanna come too."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"You're right. How rude of me. Well... If you're spending another night, perhaps we can get together again?"

You said yes, skipped the cafe and waited around until sunset, listening to him argue with someone on the phone out on the balcony. And though you couldn't understand a word he spoke, you knew he spoke to a lover; someone who had no idea you were a pane of glass away and full of this stranger's cum.

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story {most of the stories posted en masse today are my earlier stories that I’ve built upon}, so I have changed a bit of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy the story.)

~~~

"Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?" Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn't the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

It was the only place that still had the vacancy sign on, so Brom had grudgingly agreed to see if they had a room that could accommodate them. Everyone needed a boost in morale, and a night in a bed and a hot shower would do the trick to lift their spirits. It was isolated enough that it would take a long time for any soldiers to reach them if anyone recognized them, and Saphira was well hidden in the small forest nearby. She could respond to any danger and was far enough away to be virtually undetectable.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. "It's one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking." She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom's upper pocket. "Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside."

"I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?"

"It's ten extra Crowns." The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk's clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn't react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. "We'll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don't have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse." Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. "Thank you."

Brom traded payment for the keys, extra bedding and toiletries and bid the sour attendant a good night. Murtagh grabbed the cot and the trio moved into the elevator, squeezing to one side to fit the roller bed in along with their packs. As the doors slid shut and they began ascending, Eragon leaned over to Brom. "How's Arya going to–"

"Shut up. Not here." Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It's little red light was flashing.

The three exited the elevator in silence, quickly making their way to their room while checking as many exits as possible without arousing suspicion. Whenever he found a camera, Murtagh would point it out to Eragon and Brom as inconspicuously as he could. It would be best to keep out of the security tapes in case the soldiers came across the hotel after they left.

Upon finally reaching the room, Brom locked all the available bolts, chains and electronic locks he could as Murtagh unfolded the cot. Eragon checked the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, tested out the small A/C unit, then sat on the bed with a sigh.

"Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?" The boy asked, stretching tiredly. "Don't tell me she's going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us."

Murtagh snorted, muttering something along the lines of the elf desperately needing one instead of deserving it, and pushed the cot into the corner so he would have a clear line of sight of both the door and the window from the side. Brom gestured to the aforementioned window, which was parallel to the bed Eragon was sitting on, and grunted, "Open that."

Perturbed, Eragon did as he was asked and opened the window fully, the metal frame bumping the outer wall. A humid breeze swept in, lending the room the scent of damp leaves and warm night air. The young Rider braced his hands on the sill and leaned out to breathe it in.

A soft series of scuffing noises were all the warning he had before Arya was suddenly staring him in the eyes, comfortably resting her chin on the sill as she crouched with her feet against the outer wall and sure fingers gripping the windowsill. "Well hello."

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. "How the hell did you just–"

"Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it." Eragon backed away from the window as the woman 'hopped' into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. "Don't gape. I parkoured most of it. It's forty bloody feet up, even we can't do that."

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. "Did anyone see you?"

Arya shook her head. "No. If they did, it was at a distance."

"Good thing we had you switch clothes." The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, great. I'll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I'll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I'll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still."

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. "I might have an idea." He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. "We're pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag."

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn't want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. "Here! This could at least cover your ears. It's not perfect, but it'll be good in a pinch."

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, "Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies." And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

Dressed as she was, Arya looked almost no different from a human woman, if a bit on the angsty side. Dark loose jeans, grey hoodie, black shirt and a dark navy blue beanie tugged low over the tips of her pointed ears certainly gave her a brooding look, especially when leaning against the wall of a hotel and shooting glowering stares at anyone that even glanced at her. As long as no one got close enough to examine her facial structure, she would pass for human.

"Who wants to shower first?" Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. "Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done."

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. "Ah, I don't care. I'll go first if you don't want it, Brom."

"All yours." The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. "Feel free to shave. There's a razor in there, fuzz face." Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. "Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you're at least out of easy sight."

"Was planning on sleeping there anyway." She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. "Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. "You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one." She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. "So, um...you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don't they know you're an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can't you just go as is?"

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. "They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional...remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur's crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second." Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. "So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave."

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don't trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?' He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, "Doesn't it bother you, though? You're helping them, and you've fought for them. Don't they respect that? Haven't you at least tried change their minds?"

Arya leveled her gaze with his. "Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I'm sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves." She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. "Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can't let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I'm okay with that."

"Don't give the boy any ideas." Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. "And no getting him drunk. Unless I'm there. Then, well...we'll see."

Arya waved him off. "I know, I know."

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. "Alright, who's next?" He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

"You're up, kid." Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya's arm. "When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I'm putting that lightly."

The elf chuckled. "Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I've gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It's been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point."

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. "Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!" He lifted his head slightly. "Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room."

"I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda." Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

"–nds the economic report. Here's Karl Yorgisson with the day's news."

Brom snorted. "Told you."

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. "Shush, I want to hear this."

"Thanks, Jason." Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. "Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"We again advise that you keep your eyes peeled for any faces you have seen on watch boards. Remember, not only is there a sizable reward for information, there is also the pride that comes with defending your King and country from the insidious terrorists that lurk in our midst.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–"

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. "Well, that's good. They're not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can't inform the general public about us or why they're searching for us."

"Attacked Gil'ead my arse." Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. "I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don't need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period."

"Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can't cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion." Arya pointed out. "Besides, they'll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden."

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. "Wait…. You're telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?"

"Never happened?" The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. "Of course they never happened! We don't send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there." She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. "Honestly! It's too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!"

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. "Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?"

"That is different." Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. "We weren't attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I'd prefer it if you didn't make quips about it."

"I apologize." Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. "It was in bad taste."

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. "Apology accepted. I shouldn't have snapped."

Murtagh shrugged. "Eh. Natural response." The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon's off key humming, and country music. Then, "What's a frin br… fyrn bri…."

"Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language." Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. "Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term." He jerked his chin in Arya's direction. "If I'm not mistaken, that is."

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. "Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Arya's jaw tightened slightly. "Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory." She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

'Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.' Murtagh's heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he'd probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.' The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

"Oi. Don't sleep yet. You have to do laundry." Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn't even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, "Then wake me up when it's ready to be done." and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn't take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

"I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep." She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man's reaction.

"Can't have you wandering around out there." Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. "If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast."

"So I'm pretty much useless at this point in time?" Arya asked dryly. "Dear me, I'm in a room where I can't leave. Out of one jail and into another."

"Don't get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh's and maybe the angst will wear off." The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. "Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?"

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. "Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?"

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, "Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you're doing in there!"

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. "I'll be done in a minute!"

"Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!"

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. "He's a teenage boy. He needs his alone time." She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. "Better he do that in there than when he thinks we're all asleep."

"He should have thought of 'alone time' before he left Carvahall." Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. "And trust me, you don't get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind."

"Poor Saphira!"

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

"You could have just told me to hurry up." The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. "Aye, but then you wouldn't have actually gotten out right when I asked."

"Well, I wasn't–" His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. "I wouldn't do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?" Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

"Hey, I'm not saying anything." Arya put her hands up. "What you do in the shower is none of my business."

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. "You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh's."

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn't seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

"You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to." She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon's general direction. "If you...um...if you don't want to sleep on the floor we could...you know, split sheet."

Eragon's ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. "Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout." The Rider mumbled a 'good point' and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf's dark eyes. "Is Saphira doing alright out there?"

"Yeah. She's asleep." Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. "I think she's a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she's been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night."

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya's lips as she turned another page. "I think we've all earned a little rest."

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira's sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. "Yeah." He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. "G'night, Arya."

"Good night, kid."

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh's bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

"Take as long as you want." Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. "I'm sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep."

"I'll try not to destroy the entire hotel's hot water supply." Arya grinned wryly as she stood. "I'll wake you if anything concerning happens."

~~~

Arya shut off the water and watched the last dregs slide down the drain. It had taken ten minutes of soap, scrubbing and hot water to get the water flowing off her body to run lighter than dark grey. Another ten minutes saw it finally run clear, and five minutes under shockingly cold spray soothed the vicious burning in her healing wounds and scars. She shook herself and wrung out her hair as much as she could before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

A few brief minutes later she was again clothed in her borrowed jeans and her sports bra, and she stepped out of the bathroom. A quick check confirmed that Murtagh had not yet returned. He slipped inside just as the elf was tying off the last strip of bandage around her leg, the rest of the shredded sheet already wrapped around her torso.

"Heads up." Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. "Good night, Arya."

"'Night, Murtagh." The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph' of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

Eragon tore the covers off as a shrill alarm stabbed into his ears. For a confusing moment lights and sound blinded him. He threw his mind out to Saphira to see through her eyes, only to remember that she was a league away, hiding in the woods. He felt her wake and surge to her feet, his panic alarming her.

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon's left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh's borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

Of all of them, Murtagh appeared to be the least disturbed by the noise. He sat lacing up his boots, already clothed in his travel gear, and his previously covered rifle was laid out on the bed within arms reach. As he picked the weapon up and chambered the first round Eragon realized the man was swearing in a steady monotone, never once reusing a word. When he seemed to run out of words in the common human language, he switched to what Eragon gathered was a dialect from his local hometown. His vocabulary was impressive to say the least.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. "From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they're setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak."

Murtagh's muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. "Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–"

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. "What's the alarm about then?" He checked that Zar'roc's hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

"They're trying to lure us to the emergency exit." Brom growled. "Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her."

'There won't be anything to see if I eat them all.' The dragon hissed in response. Eragon's jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I'll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.'

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh's swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. "How are we getting out?" The younger Rider asked. "We can't go out and we can't go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can't carry four people."

"Theta Rescue." Arya grabbed Eragon's backpack before he could pick it up. "Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.'" She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

"Only if you're up for it." Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. "It's quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won't help."

"No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets." Her head cocked to the side. "They're sweeping the floor below us."

"Theta it is." Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. "Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh."

"Wait, what's happening?" Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. "What are you doing?"

Arya flashed him a grin that didn't reach her now flinty eyes. "Don't worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don't wiggle."

"Wigg–" Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman's carry. He only had time to spit out a quick "Oh Sweet Sara–" before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?' She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.' Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I'm going to hear about this later, aren't I?'

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You're just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.' With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.'

'Yes ma'am.' Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse's hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.