#uk bathroom furniture

[elegantshowersuk]

The Ultimate Guide to Buying UK Bathroom Furniture

Are you looking for the perfect UK bathroom furniture to complete your home? With so many options available, it can be overwhelming to find the right pieces. That’s why we’ve created this comprehensive guide to buying UK bathroom furniture. Here, you’ll find all the information you need to make an informed decision and find the perfect furniture for your bathroom. From tips on what to look for in a quality piece to a detailed overview of the various styles of UK bathroom furniture, this guide will help you make the perfect purchase. So, let’s get started!

II. Choosing Quality UK bathroom furniture When shopping for UK bathroom furniture, it is important to consider quality. There are several factors to consider when evaluating the quality of any bathroom furniture. Here are a few of the most important:

A. Durability: Durability is key when it comes to UK bathroom furniture. Look for pieces that are made of quality materials that can withstand moisture and other elements. Solid wood furniture is a great choice for bathroom furniture as it is both durable and stylish.

B. Comfort: Comfort is also an important factor to consider. Look for furniture that is comfortable to sit on and use. Consider the size, shape, and material of the furniture to ensure it is comfortable for you and anyone else who may use it.

C. Style: Style is also an important factor to consider when shopping for UK bathroom furniture. There are a variety of styles available, from traditional to modern to contemporary. Think about the style of your bathroom and the other pieces of furniture you have. This will help you find the perfect piece of bathroom furniture that will fit in with the rest of your décor.

III. Types of UK bathroom furniture Once you have considered the quality and comfort of the pieces, you can start looking at the various types of UK bathroom furniture available. Here are a few of the most popular styles:

A. Traditional: Traditional UK bathroom furniture is often made of wood and has a classic, timeless look. It is usually quite traditional in design, with ornate details and intricate carvings. This type of furniture is perfect for those who want a classic look in their bathroom.

B. Modern: Modern UK bathroom furnitureis often made of metal and has a sleek, contemporary look. This type of furniture is perfect for those who want a modern and stylish look in their bathroom.

C. Contemporary: Contemporary bathroom furniture is usually made of a combination of materials, such as wood, metal, and glass. This type of furniture is perfect for those who want a unique and stylish look in their bathroom.

IV. Finding the Right Bathroom Furniture Once you have narrowed down the type of bathroom furniture you are looking for, you can start shopping around. Look for pieces that offer quality, comfort, and style. When shopping for UK bathroom furniture, it is important to consider your budget as well. To get the most for your money, look for pieces that are within your price range but still offer quality.

Once you have found the perfect piece of furniture, you can start thinking about how to best place it in your bathroom. Consider the size and shape of the piece and the other pieces of furniture in the room. This will help you create a cohesive and stylish look in your bathroom.

V. Conclusion Buying UK bathroom furniture can be a daunting task, but with the right information, it can be a breeze. By considering the quality, comfort, and style of the pieces, as well as your budget, you can find the perfect piece of furniture to complete your bathroom. With this guide, you are now ready to begin your search for the perfect UK bathroom furniture

[bathroomforless]

Discover premium quality bathroom products at Bathroom4less, where affordability meets durability. We proudly offer our own branded products across the UK, ensuring top-notch quality and longevity. Transform your bathroom with our cheap bathroom vanity units, comprehensive bathroom suites, and stylish bathroom furniture sets. Our collection includes everything from freestanding vanity units and bathroom vanity units with sinks to floor standing vanity units and elegant vanity units with basins. At Bathroom4less, we provide a wide range of bathroom furniture designed to meet your needs and budget, all backed by our quality guarantee. Upgrade your bathroom with Bathroom4less and enjoy the perfect blend of style, functionality, and affordability.

[ukbathroomshoponline]

Elevate Your Bathroom with the Elegance of Vitra Bathroom Furniture

When it comes to transforming your bathroom into a space of unmatched luxury and style, Vitra is a name that should be on your radar. With an array of collections and designs, Vitra Bathroom Furniture offers a wide range of options to suit every taste and preference. Let's delve into the world of Vitra bathrooms, from the Designer M-Line to the S50 series, and discover how you can create a bathroom that exudes sophistication and functionality.

Vitra Designer M-Line: Minimalist Elegance

The VitrA Designer M-Line collection is the epitome of minimalist elegance. Its clean lines and sleek design make it a perfect choice for those who appreciate simplicity and sophistication in their bathroom. From toilets and basins to vanity units, this collection offers a seamless blend of form and function.

Vitra Designer Nest: Contemporary Chic

If you prefer a more contemporary look, the VitrA Designer Nest collection has you covered. With its modern and chic design, this collection combines functionality with aesthetics seamlessly. From vanity units to bathroom sinks, the Nest collection is all about contemporary sophistication.

Vitra Milton and Layton: Versatile Options

Vitra's Milton and Layton series offer versatile options for your bathroom. Whether you need a space-saving solution or a complete bathroom suite, these collections provide a wide range of choices to cater to your needs.

The VitrA Designer Collection: Ultimate Luxury

For the ultimate in luxury, explore The VitrA Designer Collection. This exclusive range features premium bathroom furniture, including vanity units and basins, that are designed to make a statement in your bathroom.

Shop Vitra Bathrooms UK Collection Online

Shopping for Vitra Bathroom Furniture in the UK has never been easier. As a leading online bathroom retailer in the UK, we offer a comprehensive selection of Vitra products for you to explore. From Vitra toilets and basins to bathtubs, suites, and basins, you can find everything you need to create the bathroom of your dreams.

Vitra Acquacare Bidets: Hygiene and Innovation

Experience innovation and hygiene with Vitra Acquacare bidets. These smart additions to your bathroom provide the highest level of cleanliness and comfort.

Vitra Wall Hung Toilets and Sento Vanity Units: Space-Saving Solutions

If you're working with limited space, consider Vitra's wall-hung toilets and Sento vanity units. These space-saving solutions help you maximize the functionality of your bathroom without compromising on style.

Conclusion: Elevate Your Bathroom with Vitra

In conclusion, Vitra Bathroom Furniture offers a wide range of options to cater to your unique style and requirements. Whether you prefer minimalist elegance, timeless beauty, contemporary chic, or affordable luxury, Vitra has a collection that will suit your taste. Shop the Vitra Bathroom Range online today and create a bathroom that not only meets your needs but also reflects your sense of style and sophistication. Your dream bathroom is just a few clicks away! Call us at 01924 267717 Or email us on sales@bathroomshopuk.co.uk

[starkwlkr]

beautiful boy | cillian murphy

do I know anything about labor and the process? no 😭 pls remember this is fanfiction and idk anything about childbirth

barbenheimer series

The day Y/n began to feel ill, she had an idea of what was going on. Of course she did some math and realized her period was late. Cillian was still filming in the uk so she was alone in their cottage. A little family owned market was close by so she decided to walk there to buy a pregnancy test just to make sure. The owners already knew her and Cillian, they were nice people that brought great comfort to her.

While she was there, she figured she might as well get some groceries that she needed. As she browsed the aisles for spices and other items, she got a text from Cillian.

C ❤️

i should be done filming soon. i miss you.

She quickly replied.

Okay, I’ll pick you up from the airport. I love you more ❤️

After she payed for her items, Y/n walked back to her cottage. She put away her groceries rather than immediately take the test. She didn’t want to get her hopes up so she occupied her mind with something else.

It wasn’t until she thought about Cillian, that’s when she decided that it was time to take it. She grabbed the small box from the bag and walked to her bathroom. She read the instructions over and over again until she ripped open the box.

“It’s going to be fine, you’re going to be fine.” Y/n whispered to herself.

Y/n was early to the airport the day Cillian was scheduled to come back home. She couldn’t contain her excitement. It had been months since they last saw each other and she desperately wanted to feel him close to her.

She finally spotted him wearing sunglasses and a hat, his outfit reminded her of the crappy disguises superheroes wore when they were under cover.

“Well hello Tommy Shelby.” She said in a flirty voice.

“You’re hilarious.” Cillian replied. He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her on the lips. “Let’s go home, I’ve missed you too much.”

Cillian wanted to drive, but Y/n wouldn’t let him. After all he did come back from a long flights and months of filming, he needed the rest. Eventually Y/n and Cillian made it back home. He quickly took notice of the garden she had made while he was gone.

“You’ve been busy.” Cillian got out of the car. He opened the trunk and got his luggage out. “Are those red poppies?” He pointed out.

“Yeah. I also planted tulips and daisies.” Y/n pointed to the flowers that decorated her front porch.

Cillian then saw the light blue flowers next to the poppies. “Forget me nots, your favorite.” He smiled.

“You remember?” Y/n asked. She had told him about her favorite flower many dates ago.

“I never forgot.” Cillian replied. “Ha, forget me not, I never forgot.” He tried to joke.

“Funny.” Y/n chuckled lightly. “Come in, I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not what you think.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

Cillian opened the door allowing Y/n to walk in first. He saw their home completely normal so it wasn’t something like a new furniture piece or art work that she had bought.

“Okay, wait here.” Y/n instructed. She walked to their shared bedroom and came back with something in her hands, Cillian wasn’t sure what it was. “I never told you I was feeling sick when you were away, I didn’t want you to worry and i most certainly didn’t want you to leave your work and fly back just for me. I had an idea of what was wrong with me so I went to the market and got a pregnancy test and it’s positive.” She nervously said. That’s when she showed Cillian the pregnancy test.

Cillian immediately pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, burying his face in her shoulder. “Oh, I love you so much.”

“We’re going to be parents.” Y/n whispered as her eyes filled with tears.

As they held each other, Cillian knew that his life would never be the same. But he also knew that with Y/n by his side, he was ready to embrace the journey of fatherhood.

MONTH 3

“People are starting to ask questions. What do I say to them?”

“Tell them you don’t know me.”

Her assistant, Joli, had been on the phone with her for the past hour. Y/n had finally told Joli about the pregnancy. Only a few people knew, obviously both of the parents’ families and close friends, but apart from them, no one knew that Cillian and Y/n were going to be parents and they liked it that way.

“You know I can’t do that. Listen, I love you and I’m happy for you and Cillian, but are you really going to step away for good?” Joli asked.

“Not entirely. I’ll just take a break.”

“Y/n, no one has seen you for a while.” Joli stated. “But when you decide to come back, I’ll be here. If you or Cillian ever need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Joli.” Y/n smiled. Joli was always her biggest supporter.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

MONTH 7

Y/n loved her quiet life. She was living in a cottage starting her family with the love of her life. What more could she want?

Her stomach was growing everyday and it amazed her every time. The gender was going to be a surprise so all the baby clothes and furniture was gender neutral. She even wrote down some gender neutral names that her and Cillian might like.

“Here,” Cillian came back from the kitchen with a glass of cold lemonade. “Let me know if you want a refill.”

Y/n and Cillian were enjoying some time in their garden. All this time at home, Y/n picked up a new hobby and in no time, the couple had their own garden.

“Thank you, my love.” Y/n replied as she grabbed the glass from Cillian’s hands. “I’ve been thinking about the name Rowan, cute or not?”

“Rowan, Rowan . . . Rowan Murphy-L/N.” Cillian tested it out. “Not sure. Can you imagine yourself yelling the name Rowan like what if our child is running and you have to yell their name for them to stop. Rowan! Hmm, I don’t know.”

Y/n began to laugh at Cillian’s words. “That’s how you decide if the name is good or not?”

“It’s a good way, just try it.” Cillian encouraged.

Y/n hesitated a bit, but cleared her throat. “Rowan! Rowannnn!”

“See? Now what’s the verdict?”

“The verdict is . . . We have to find another name.”

JULY 21ST, 2013

Cillian was thankful that he didn’t have to work that day. It was all going good. Y/n was in the final days of pregnancy and everything was ready for the arrival of baby murphy. Around 2PM was when Cillian’s driving skills were put to the test.

“Fuck! Fuck! I hate this! I’m never having kids again!” Y/n groaned. “Hey, did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“Not recent-” Cillian said as he kept his eyes on the road. They were only two minutes from the hospital.

“I hate you right now! But I love you so so much, but I fucking hate you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

Soon, Y/n was being taken by nurses to labor and delivery. Cillian made sure to call both of the families to let them know that in a matter of minutes, he would be a father and Y/n would be a mother.

“Are you Mr. Murphy?” A nurse asked. “Your wife is calling for you.”

Wife. He loved the sound of that.

Cillian quickly ended the call with his mother and ran to Y/n’s room. “Hey, I’m here.” He grabbed her hand, placing gentle kisses on it.

“Do our parents know?” Y/n asked.

“I just got off the phone with them. They’re so happy for us.” He smiled.

Thankfully, a C-section wasn’t needed. Baby Murphy entered the world crying. He was perfect in the eyes of his parents.

“Congratulations, it’s a beautiful boy.” The nurse announced.

“A boy.” Cillian whispered to Y/n. “Our beautiful boy.”

“Alex. His name is Alexander or Alex. I like it.” Y/n said, completely out of breath.

“Alexander Murphy-L/N. That sounds perfect.” Cillian smiled.

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @equallyshaw @agustdpeach @celesteablack @hnybitches @ietss @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekileypage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 12)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: Minors DNI - threats, mentions of violence, swearing, morally gray decision making, smoking

Summary: Rory and Price get their chance to interrogate Zorokov

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

October 21, 2017 07:36 - Safehouse

The awkward tension between them was thick. Murky and deep. A confused jumble of emotions that neither had made a concerted effort of facing. Rory decided to fall back on her old trick of sweeping it all under the rug, ignoring the uncomfortable gnawing inside by turning her attention to her mission. Focusing on what she could control, burying herself neck deep in what she had power over rather than feeling like she was stuck in a current leading her astray. While Price, on the other hand, seemed to remain set on the idea of keeping her under his protection. Unwavering and absolute as he was with all decisions he made. He knew what was best, even if she wasn’t willing to recognize that for herself – yet . The elephant in the room had only doubled in size, each having spilled their guts as best they could at the other's feet. Painfully aware of where they each stood on the issue. A brief hiatus put on the debate as they tried to go about their day as normal, despite being trapped in a hotel room together. 

While the sound of shower water battered the stall in the bathroom, Rory did her best to maintain professional distance in the bedroom. Cleaning her weapon while sitting on her double bed, meticulous as she slid each section of the gun apart and swabbed and wiped it down. The cigarette dangled from the corner of her lip, smoke trailing along the side of her face as a section of dark hair hung in front of her eyes, her gun oil stained fingertips drifting through the strands to brush it back behind her ear. Tapping her cigarette into the ashtray sat beside her on the bed, her fingers shook, the hand they belonged to absentmindedly drifting to her neck, rubbing at the tender bruising that circled it – covering them with makeup, burying them below the collar of her sweater – she did everything possible not to look at the discolored patches of skin where the blood had bloomed under the surface. 

It was all still too raw, too real. 

Her thoughts went to dark places as the constant stream of shower water helped provide the white noise to slip into a state of near hypnosis. She knew she was still in the safehouse even as the burning sensation of cold marble crept over her back, the smell of leather furniture filling her nostrils and then the bleach…Her nails dug at her chest, feeling her breath catch in her throat. She had always wondered how long she could hold her breath for – it was certainly never one of her strengths before, especially not as a smoker – but she supposed she had received her answer: Two minutes . Two excruciating, long minutes. 

Deep in her work and in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed her mobile had begun vibrating on the nightstand, having returned to dragging the wiry cleaning brush through the barrel of her pistol, pulling it back and forth, scraping out the old flakes of debris that had accumulated. She wasn’t aware the shower water had stopped either. Deaf to the world around her, numb to it, as if it had become entirely dull and grayed out just like it had been that morning. Lackluster, just like she felt. 

The loud buzzing of her phone finally grabbed her attention as her eyes rose to meet the bathroom door opening. Price entered the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist, hair lying flat and damp, the freckles and body hair of his torso on show as his hard muscle flexed under the soft flesh that covered it, feet padding in full strides across the carpet. She still hadn’t entirely left the confines of her head even as their gaze locked, his piercing stare narrowing beneath his furrowed brow the longer he looked at her. Saying nothing, he glanced over at her phone on the table, and then back at her. His jaw flexed, a little tic slipping through the cracks of the stoic soldier’s wall. There was no heat to the look he gave her, more a survey of her reactions, realizing something wasn’t adding up. 

Rory quickly gave him a sheepish grin, pretending she was perfectly alright despite knowing he had already read her like a book. Putting her tools down and grabbing her cigarette, she placed it back to her lips. No longer stuck in the act of repetition, broken free of the cycle, the spiral pulled taut once more. Reaching behind her and collecting the still ringing phone from the table, the call display informed her it was Andrew. She placed the phone on the bed and returned to cleaning her gun. “Andy, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh, thank Christ. It’s a miracle hearing your voice, Sinclair. Do you know how bloody worried I've been?”

She rubbed at her brow, her finger gently trailing over the scabbed over gash that cut through it. “Enough to not call until now?”

Price gave a low chuckle on the other side of the room, a smirk pulling at his lips as he cinched the waist of his pants together to button it. She gave him a sideways look, taking a drag from her cigarette and a brief moment to appreciate the captain’s form. He shook his head, rubbing the towel through his hair to dry it, leaving his short hair haphazard before he’d return the beanie to its place on top of his head.

“Oi, be nice. I come bearing news.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Smoke streamed past her lips as she spoke, starting to slot her gun back together. 

The smile in Andrew’s voice faded as he continued, "Thought  you should know, Zorokov’s lucid. Have him under guard detail at HSCT Centre hospital. I know it's no interrogation room, but if you want to get your answers, now’s the time to do it.”

Heart rate increasing, a cold sweat made Rory’s hands instantly clammy. She knew she would have to face him down eventually, look him in those cold, dark eyes once again, but there was no denying it was likely too soon. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to steel herself as she took another long drag of her cigarette.

“What room?” Price’s low, gravelly voice near her ear caused her to open her eyes and find his hand coming to press to the back of her neck, squeezing it softly. She wasn’t alone. He wasn’t going to leave her alone. 

-----

October 21, 2017 – HSCT Centre Hospital, Moscow

“I thought Laswell didn't want us starting a war?” Rory muttered as the heavy metal lift doors opened and she followed Price through the halls of the hospital, carrying their weapon for the negotiation – the laptop – under her arm. Boots thumped against the waxed linoleum floors as she kept pace with the Captain throughout the medical facility, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat as they passed by nurses and doctors, trying to appear as though they were merely any other set of visitors. 

“We won't,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, his gaze kept forward. Focused . “Leave it to me.”

“John -”

The rasping sigh he tried to let slip past did not go undetected and when he finally bothered to look at her, she could see the quick little curl of his top lip into a sneer. “Your mate got us the in. No point lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth, yeah?”

She pushed her fists deeper into the pockets of her coat, twisting the bits of fluff in between her fingertips, kneading them into miniature stress balls. “So we march in there and do what exactly? Are we actually questioning him, getting answers that we need , or is this just an excuse for you to make him suffer like you wanted to last night?”

“Gonna give ‘im a reason to talk.”

“And what's that supposed to mean, eh?”

With John Price that could be left entirely open to interpretation. From what she had gleaned in their conversations and the things he had done already, he had a moral code, but it was a loose one. One that bent and bowed with whatever came his way, whatever got him to the endgame the fastest with the least amount of resistance. He had been a soldier for longer than her, moved further up through the ranks, had more lives under his command, leading them deeper into the machine that ground up and spat most of them back out just as broken as she was, if not more so. He was drenched in the military’s wanton use of ‘the ends justifying the means'. There was no telling where the cut off was for what he was willing to do, how far he would go.  She knew that. She also knew it wasn’t a way of life most could thrive in, but he had, allowing himself to be morphed by it. It made him dangerous; it made him a threat – it made her happy he was an ally and not someone to face down herself. 

Turning to look at her once more, his slight smirk spread over his features. “It means Laswell’s helping us hit ’im where it hurts.”

Lifting her brow, she realized what he was implying. “We’re going for the jugular?”

He gave her a curt nod and continued forward. “He’s a sittin’ duck and we aren’t wastin’ this opportunity. Not when he's right there. Not after what he did. He’s going nowhere.” He paused and glanced over at her once more. “I told you, you gave us our in.”

Even if she had to bite his face off to do it. 

“Right. Well then…” she shrugged her shoulders and softly sighed. “Let's get this show on the road, eh?”

“Sure you’ll be alright goin’ in there?” The scowl reappeared on his face. Giving her the out once again. He seemed to want to give her every excuse available to turn tail and run or hide.  “I can do it on my own.”

Grabbing his arm and stopping him in his tracks, her fingers delved into the thick material of his coat, eyes boring into him, reminding him just how deadly serious she was. “I want to see what I did to him… I need to see the state I left him in.”

Tipping his head to the side, he looked at her with a cocked brow. “You’re a tough little bird, aren’t you, my girl?”

Rolling her eyes, she let go of his arm. “Christ almighty, would you stop calling me that.”

“What?”

“ Your girl.”

Price smirked as she started walking away quickly with her agitation. “Wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t at least partially agree with it, darlin’.”

Rory scoffed and looked over her shoulder back at him. “I swear to god, you just might be one of the most arrogant bastards I’ve ever met.” 

His lips downturned as she said it, tilting his head from side to side, cocking his brow, seemingly debating this fact in his head. 

“Oh, piss off.” She couldn’t help but laugh now, her footsteps slowing as she turned around to face him. “You don’t get to act like this is the first time you’ve ever heard that.”

“What if it is?” His eyes twinkled with just a hint of mischief as he looked at her. Bright and blue under the harsh fluorescent lights and darkened by his brow. 

Taking a short step forward, she gazed up at him, neck craning. “Shame on everyone else who was too scared to say it then.”

Chuckling quietly, his eyes narrowed at her. “You know why, right?”

What would be a motion that would normally put most on edge, an intimidation technique she had seen Price use several times already – his patented death glare – had little effect on her. “Because you’re the big, scary SAS captain that strikes the fear of God into people. I’m well aware, John,” she said, lifting her eyes to the ceiling.

He closed the distance between them, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned forward. “And yet here you are calling me out on it, no fear at all.”

What reason did she have to be scared? Sure he was abrasive, stern, ready to tear someone a new arsehole when needed – but he was still just a man. Willing to make the hard decisions others couldn’t at a moment’s notice, but a man, nonetheless. A man who had already clearly made his intentions known about wanting to keep her safe. Surely she could talk back a little, get a rise out of the highly decorated captain, a man well respected for his accomplishments, carrying the weight of the world and the immensity of his actions on his shoulders. In her eyes, he was more than what the military expected of him even if that was all he wanted to regard himself as. He wasn’t just the ruthless soldier he insisted on portraying. He might have been dangerous, but she had already won him over. 

“Because I still remember you as the clean-shaven Lieutenant.”

Looking down at her through his brow, his head lowered towards her. “Haven’t been him in a long time, darlin’,” he rasped.

“Did he get left behind in the stall of that loo with me?” Rory teased, her smile shifting into an incredibly self-assured smirk.

Price sighed, a little growl slipping from him with frustration.

Patting his forearm, the grin faded from her face and she returned to her professional form, readjusting the laptop under her arm. “Let’s get back to the mission, shall we?” 

------

Reaching the door to the room Zorokov was being kept in to recuperate, they were met by the guard detail organized by MI6 – definitely not police with the way they were dressed, and the assault rifles they carried, afforded the privilege of appearing frightening as hell. With the quick nod of heads, the door was opened, and Price and Rory were granted access to the room where their slumbering target awaited them.  

With the lights dimmed in the room, they moved forward, not caring one way or the other if they woke him up in the process. The thin, pale blue curtain that circled the hospital bed rustled slightly, a breeze shifting the material as the two soldiers passed by it, their shadows sweeping across with what little light there was. Price was quick to grab the two edges of the material in his fists and toss the sections open, damn near tearing the curtains right off the rings that held them. As they parted, splitting open with force, the soldiers came face to face with the Russian, now cuffed to the hospital bed, his lip sewn back together with thick black sutures, face bruised and swollen, mouth stuffed with cotton, hooked up to an IV drip for pain management. 

Rory bit down on the inside of her cheek, she hated just how lightly he seemed to come out of their struggle. Grimacing at the cold hard truth that a marred face was nothing that money couldn’t fix with plastic surgeries. Free from pain, able to sleep as though nothing at all had happened. She wished she’d left more of an indelible mark against him. Taken an eye, cut out his tongue, something to truly remember her by. 

Price couldn’t help the lopsided grin that twisted cruelly at his mouth, his hands pressed to either side of Zorokov’s feet at the end of the bed, hunching over like a guard dog ready to attack, head lowered to stare at the man in a predatory fashion. “Well, take a look at you, sunshine.” The vehement, venomous hate he held for the oligarch – for what he had done – burned behind his eyes as he maintained the cool, calm, collected demeanor of the military captain. 

Heavy eyes surrounded in puce fluttered open and locked on the mutton chopped man, widening at the sight of Rory standing in the corner, showing no sign of cowering in fear of the man who had attacked her only hours ago and in much better shape than he was. 

Stare darkening further, Price barked a command in the husky tone of a man who was used to shouting out orders on a battlefield, “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Zorokov flinched, shifting carefully in his bed. His normally well-coiffed blonde hair left greasy and unkempt. There was no fancy suit to protect him now, no air of dignity or power. He was left strung up like bait for the wolves at the door, and they were prowling. He did as he was told, his attention maintained on the brusque man at the foot of his bed. 

“You know why we’re here. So let’s not play any games, yeah?”

“What are you going to do, Captain Price ?” He emphasized the name in an attempt to regain some power, reminding the two soldiers that this wasn’t one sided, he knew them as well. “Threaten my life?” He nodded his head in Rory’s direction. “Sic your wild dog on me?”

The cold, threatening tone of the captain barely covered the growl that threatened to slip from him. “Oh, I think she had every right to do what she did to you.”

“She ripped off my fucking lip,” the Russian yelled as he shot forward, manic with fury. The IV stand nearly tipping over with the flailing movement of his arm.

“And you tried to kill her!” Price thrusted his pointed finger at Zorokov before moving around the hospital bed with a snarl, grabbing the IV tubing that connected to the Russian’s arm and tore it from the bag. “You deserved everythin’ you got and more.”

“Captain –” 

Her calm voice cut through the chaos. His hand tensed into a fist at his side. The constant stream of liquid dripping onto the floor causing everyone’s teeth in the room to grind. 

“Sir, isn’t there someone else who’s meant to be part of this conversation?”

He shifted his jaw just enough to expose his annoyance, and then flexed his shoulders, letting the broad stretch of them sit tight. Anger flared in his eyes as he tried to remain controlled, staring down at the man who he had wanted to tear asunder. 

“Price…” Rory held out the laptop towards him, trying to reel him back in. 

Glancing over his shoulder with a swallowed sigh, his nose scrunching along with a grimace as if he was swallowing back bile, he took the computer from her and continued his interrogation of the Russian. “Went to a lot of trouble to get this. Did a lot of diggin’ in your dirt. All the shit you’ve been buryin’, tryin’ to hide. But we’ve had our eyes on you for a while. Now it’s all paid off,” Price muttered, seething just being in the company of the Russian. 

“You can’t do anything to me. I’m protected.”

“You might have a lot of powerful friends. So do I. And they’ve all been looking for ways to gut you like a bloody fish.”

“Do what you will, Captain.” The Russian exuded smugness as he leaned back against his pillows, adjusting them as he settled. “I won’t see prison. I won’t be punished. There are too many hands involved and none of them want to get dirty.”

“But you’re happy to, aren’t you?” Price leaned in, gripping the side rail of the hospital bed with white knuckles.

“I’m merely a middleman. Connecting people to things they need. I’m not the villain here.”

“Oh, I think you are.” Price’s eyes narrowed, the crow’s feet by his eyes crinkling without any of the mirth that came with one of his trademark smirks. “You’re certainly not above violence, eh?”

“She seems just fine to me.” Zorokov hummed, his dark eyes landing on Rory, taking in the cuts on her face he’d left behind.

“What did I say?” Price rasped, his tone a clear threat as he gritted his teeth.

His glare returned to the captain. “So what? You have info on my business ventures? Means nothing. They’re all owned by shell companies. Nothing’ll lead back. Do you think I’m new to this?”

Price clenched his jaw once more, the tendons ready to break with the force his molars clamped down on each other, held tight like a steel trap. Opening the laptop, files and logs had been opened, unencrypted, he tossed it onto Zorokov’s lap. “CIA’s been lookin’ into your exploits. Have a whole list o’ your friends. We know exactly how you filter your dirty money. So…” His head tilted the way a canines would before it bared its teeth. “Wanna tell me how a trafficker hops into bed with terrorists?”

The Russian remained entirely self-satisfied, hardly put off by the threat he was currently under being delivered by the two soldiers. “Exploiting the market. These are countries that don’t have GDP – just war. They want freedom, their peace? Need to pay for it somehow,” he said with a shrug.

Rory’s lip curled at just the thought. The lack of humanity in taking advantage of a situation like that. Seeing human lives as a commodity. Her rage steadily boiled inside her, the blood rushing in her ears. Trying so hard to swallow it and keep her resolve. “Christ, you have no conscience at all, do you?”

A low chuckle filled the room, and her blood ran cold at the sound. “Business isn’t about conscience. It's about profit.”

Her hand curled into a fist, her nails carving crescents into the palm of her hand. “So, money’s all that matters to you then?” The anger had all faded from her voice, there was a cold defiance to it instead. Resolute in her next actions. “You must have Swiss bank accounts just spilling with rubles. Shell corporations won’t do so well without an influx of funds. A plug in the system would certainly make things difficult for you and your ilk, wouldn’t it?”

“Something like that would take you months… years to make happen.”

“Unless it's already been in the works.” Price’s smirk grew as he stood up tall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Known, suspected, and likely targets…and based on what we  know about you, well , you were pushed up that list.” He slipped the phone from his pocket and tapped on the laptop. “I suggest you keep your eyes on that screen.”

With a darkened stare, Zorokov straightened himself to sit up square in his bed. His attention turned to the computer sitting on his lap. 

Getting in contact with Laswell, Price had the phone to his ear as she answered his call. 

“ John. ” 

“In a meeting with Zorokov. You’ve got his financials available, yeah?”

“ I do .”

“Bleed the shell accounts first.”

The banking information on the laptop screen showed the drain on the account as fund blockages were accepted and transfers put on hold. 

“I have a feeling your comrades might not like that their money’s tied up with you for much longer. Might not be so safe after all. Men like that don’t take too kindly to being fucked around, eh? You’re about to owe a lot to some dangerous people. Would be a real shame if you didn’t have the funds to keep yourself alive, wouldn’t it?”

Zorokov’s eye began to twitch, his lip curling into a snarl.  “Threaten me all you want, it doesn’t change anything. War still goes on and there are those of us who will prosper.”

“Fundin’ both sides certainly helps, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’m the first to do so? Look at your precious America, Britain…you think they aren’t complicit in the same fucking thing? CIA, MI6, FSB – they are all the same. Manufacturing conflict for their own ends. War is good business.”

“And Al Ghulam…” Rory stepped into the light, looking him dead in the eye. “What’s the tie to him?” 

“Never heard of him.” Glancing away from her, his body gave her all the telltale signs of a lie. The heavy swallow, shortening of breath, the sweat on the brow. He was breaking down. And an incredibly shitty liar when he wasn’t the one in control. He had grown lazy, complacent with all that money at his fingertips. 

He stood no chance against her.

“Bullshit,” she growled. “I was the one to get him to talk. I know he was working with a European PMC group when it came to transferring human lives across from Iraq in trade for weapons, a group that was working with ISIS.” She drew closer, coming within reach of the oligarch, her eyes flaring. “Why do I get the feeling you were behind that group?”

Rory and Zorokov locked eyes, like a bull seeing red she was ready to charge and attack. Ready to gore the bastard for what he had done, for the acts he was complicit in. Striking at the jugular just as Price agreed they would. 

She decided to play chicken with the man.

Her stare never wavering, she waited for him to talk. Waiting for the lack of pain medication flowing into his system to have its desired effect. Her voice lowered to a harsh whisper as she leaned over, crowding him. “Tell me I’m right.”

Zorokov flinched first.

“You hear that?” Price spoke into his phone, giving Laswell another weak spot to exploit. “Come across any ties to PMCs in the records?”

“A few…” Laswell replied.

“How many working in Syria or Iraq?”

“ Just one. Based out of Kastovia, they’ve been in and out of the middle east region for years . Recently there was an influx of funds from a Saudi oil shell.”

“Saudis, eh?” Price’s eyes lifted to meet Rory’s across from him. “You ready for a change of scenery, Sergeant?”

They were heading to the desert, back to the sand and the beaming hot heat. It was still odd to think that she had only been back in England for the last six months, put on desk duty with the SRR, and now here she was headed back into the chaos she had been given a reprieve from. Tying up loose ends that she never thought she would get the chance to. Healing old wounds after opening them up again on this mission. However, one glaring problem still existed, sitting in the hospital bed before them.

“And him?” Rory tipped her head towards the Russian in their midst.

“He's not out of the woods yet. Intelligence is going to love to get their hooks in ‘im.”

She scowled, her fixed stare burning a hole between Zorokov’s eyes. “Protection. Really ?” Her gaze shifted back to the captain; jaw clenched tight. It felt like a punch to the gut, another of these bastards being given the last thing they deserved. A slap on the wrist and then every transgression hidden from sight once more. 

“For now. Come on, Sergeant. We got what we needed.” Price closed the laptop and scooped it under his arm. “Let's move.”

She snarled, giving the Russian one last glaring look before leaving the room. Shoving her way past the security detail, fury coiled inside her. The mission wasn’t about stopping Zorokov, nor cutting off one of the heads of the hydra. It was about his ties to the greater threat, the terrorists. It was about weapons. War . The machine she was very much a part of. Women and children be damned, it was never about them.

[separatist-apologist]

Straight To My Head

I want to be where you are

Summary: All Nesta wants is to live outside of London in peace. She would like nothing more than days filled with books and quiet- a dream made impossible by the Scotsman determined to relive past battle glories on her front lawn

Big thanks to @dustjacketmusings who gave me the idea of LARP-ing Cassian, and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant once again.

Part 1/2: I Want To Be Where You Are | Read AO3

Six months before:

“Your Uncle Rupert has died.”

Nesta didn’t bother looking up from her book, despite how terribly rude it was to read at the dinner table. Beside her, Feyre was scrolling through her phone, a frown pinching her face. It left only Elain to set her spoon neatly against a folded napkin and ask, “Uncle Rupert?”

“He was your mothers uncle,” their father replied, drawing both Nesta and Feyre’s attention toward him. He looked absurd in his polo get up, an aging man trying desperately hard to fit in. He reminded her of the girls from school and their lack of personality outside of whatever the latest trend was. It was all terribly boring. 

And so was he. 

“Oh. How terribly tragic,” Elain, ever dutiful, waited to see if there was anything else expected of her. Nesta knew Elain well, and though she was far too polite to ever show it, she cared just as little as Feyre and Nesta did. 

“He’s left you girls an inheritance,” their father continued, drawing a soft sigh of annoyance from Feyre. 

“Oh?” Elain questioned, examining her immaculate nails that held the garishly ugly diamond Graysen had given her. Nesta was biding her time, certain her younger sister would realize was a dull, preening asshole he was and call it off…but just in case, Nesta also intended to throw Elain an intervention under the guise of a bachelorette party. 

She had time. At least a year.

Maybe more, depending on what this inheritance was.

“Castles. Three castles—one for each of you.”

“Why would he do that?” Feyre asked bluntly, echoing both Nesta and Elain’s thoughts. Their father only shrugged.

“Perhaps he was hoping to elevate the three of you.”

Nesta scoffed. Of course their father would think so. All he cared about was more. More money, more power—more than they could ever need, could ever use. Nesta wanted no part of it. 

“Where are these castles, exactly?” Nesta asked, finally setting her book down to look him dead in the face. 

“I think I’ll turn mine into a bed and breakfast,” Elain murmured, eyes shining as she mentally began planning.

“You don’t even know where it is,” Feyre interrupted. “What if it's crumbling? What if it’s in the middle of nowhere or what if it’s filled with ghosts. What if—”

“Feyre,” Elain interrupted, eyes wide. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure we weren’t given the crumbling wreckage of some haunted estate.”

Now:

Famous last words. 

Nesta often thought of Elain’s certainty. While Feyre and Elain began remodeling, Nesta hadn’t needed to. Of the three, hers was in the best condition, though it needed a heating source outside of fireplaces, and she’d used the money their uncle had also left for renovations to revamp the electric.

After that, Nesta had wasted all of the rest of that obscene allowance on furniture and art, furnishings for the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the kitchen—and the library. Nesta had poured so much time and attention into her library that some nights she fell asleep in the oversized white chair just beside the window. 

She’d never imagined herself anywhere but London.

Now she was certain she’d never go back. She’d fallen in love with the solitude, with the Scottish Highlands and the town that existed at the base of the hillside her castle had been built upon. It was as old as the stones themselves, and the people were far nicer than anyone in London on their best day. 

Nesta would often walk down the steep pathway where she’d have lunch in the little tavern and buy a book at the shop, which was well-stocked with romance, before making her way to the loch where she’d fall asleep on a blanket, reading the new book she’d purchased. 

It was exactly like one of her stories.

Save for him, of course.

All books needed a romantic hero. A man who was both handsome and interesting. Cassian MacDougall was certainly the first—at least six foot five and built like a warrior of old, with dark brown hair that hung against broad shoulders, and hazel eyes that were more brown than green. 

Not that Nesta was paying that much attention. Not of the closely trimmed beard against the sharp cut of his jaw. Certainly not of his tattooed arms and chest, which were often bare, his golden brown skin gleaming with sweat given he so often forewent a shirt. He did wear a kilt—a red and blue plaid that offered a rather nice view of his muscled knees.

The problem with Cassian was his personality. Before she’d moved in, Cassian had taken to staging loud battles on her front lawn—it was, apparently, the sight of a very famous Scottish victory in some long forgotten battle against the English. 

Nesta had merely asked him to stop doing it so close to her window. She wasn’t even unreasonable the first time. 

Could you move further down the hill? She’d asked him, intimidated by his largeness, by how obscenely handsome he was.

He’d shot her a grin, and then turned to his friends. “Did ye hear that, lads?! The Englishwoman wants us to clear out!”Everyone had laughed, and Nesta had been humiliated. 

Now it was a battle of the wills between them. The nearby town of Killin was swarmed with tourists during the Spring and Summer months, and Cassian made some of his money by taking tourists on a trip through Scottish history—or so Emerie, the woman who owned the local grocery store, had told Nesta. Spring had officially arrived just that morning, and Nesta was wholly unprepared for the sounds of violence wafting through the open windows. 

She was going to kill him. It wasn’t even eight in the morning. Rising from her chair in the empty dining room table, Nesta marched through the quiet halls of her castle. Had her uncle known about this when he’d given her this cursed place? Had she angered him once when she’d been a child?

Nesta didn’t know how to reconcile her love of her home with her hatred of Cassian. He was just as willful, just as stubborn, and perhaps worst of all, determined to push her out. 

She’d embarrass him right back. She swore she would. If he’d taken money from people and led them up here, she’d ruin his reputation on Yelp, too. She’d read them—just to know how best to ruin him—and everyone liked Cassian. 

Everyone but her.

He was there, in his kilt and a sword and, mercifully, a breezy white shirt. He’d brought all his friends with him, some dressed in the stuffy red and white uniforms that had once belonged to the English. They had bayonets attached to guns, none of it sharp enough to wound, and somehow, someone had managed to roll a replica cannon onto the immaculate grass. 

She froze, heart hammering at the sheer scale of what was happening—it was fake, and yet her brain and body reacted as though it were real. Not far from her, an Englishman fell to the ground with a groan, clutching at this chest before going utterly silent. 

Nesta couldn’t take her eyes off him. Memories of her mothers death flooded through her, as vivid as the battle raging around her. No one else had been in the room when her mother took those last, rattling breaths but Nesta, who had been only eleven. Nesta had spent those six months caring for their mother while she fell victim to aggressive, incurable cancer. Back then, she hadn’t understood that it would take far more than her love and devotion to save her mother. 

Elain and Feyre had been too young to take on that burden, and their father too buried and work and grief. It left only Nesta to witness death, to be there in the final last moments. 

She’d refused to speak about it, and rarely allowed herself to even think about death. Something had solidified that day, had become hard and Nesta’s will was unbreakable.

And right then, in the early morning sun, she felt it fracture. Just a little, just enough to empty out her mind. Nesta forgot why she’d gone out in the first place, or what she was doing until warm, strong hands lifted her up in the air and began moving her.

A breath of fear wooshed out of her, palms slapping against a muscular back. Cassian—his shirt plastered to his sweat soaked skin—was carrying her across the grounds as he announced, “And we’d take any English lass for our own!” 

Revulsion flooded through her. 

“Put me down!” she ordered, afraid he was going to accidentally flash a crowd of tourists with her underwear. 

Cassian did as he was told, grinning ear to ear. “Everyone applaud for Lady Nesta. She’s a good sport, playing the part of stuffy English broad.”

Tourists in fanny packs, Hawaiian shirts, and thick socks to their knees, offered her a round of polite clapping. She’d come here to humiliate him, and as he so often did, it was Cassian who’d gained the upper hand. Nesta tried to turn, to leave him there, but his hand shot around her waist, holding her firmly against him. 

He rattled off battle facts for a solid ten minutes, fingers digging against the fabric of her blue maxi dress. It was only when he finished, and one of his friends began herding people toward the path that Cassian turned to face her.

Nesta’s heart raced. “What do ye think ye’re doing?” he demanded, dropping his hand as though she disgusted him. 

“Me?” she replied, adopting an imperiously cold tone in order to mask her own fear. “This is my home, Cassian.”

He scoffed. “For how long, Nes?”

She hated when he called her that. Hated the familiar, intimate nickname of the fact he’d given her one at all. No one had ever dared. 

“Excuse me?” she demanded.

He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “How long,” he repeated, enunciating his words with that faux British accent she hated. He was forever mocking her. “How long before you pack up and move out? Another couple months?”

“I’ll be here forever,” Nesta hissed, hoping he believed her. “I’ll be chasing your children off this lawn one day.”

Cassian’s laugh was humorless. “Oh, I believe ye will. I hope ye’re ready for that. I intend tae be prolific.”

“You’d have to find a willing woman, first,” she replied, holding his stare. “And from what I’ve seen, they don’t find you charming. I wonder why that is?”

“So concerned about my bedroom habits, are ye?”

She’d kill him. “What’s to be concerned about? A man in love with his hand is terribly common.”

Cassian took a step toward her, staring down his nose. He was terribly handsome, a brutal prince with that scar slashed over his thick eyebrow and those eyes that she swore saw right through her.

“If ye want to know what I’m like in bed, ye only have to ask.”

“I don’t fuck animals,” Nesta snapped, praying he couldn’t tell how quickly her heart was beating. She turned, not daring to continue this conversation. It was far too dangerous. 

Nesta made it all of two steps before his fingers curled around her wrist, turning her so roughly she stumbled into his chest. Nesta inhaled without thinking, drinking the scent of snow capped wind and cedar and the way the sun smelled against the salt of his skin.

She reached with her free hand and slapped him as hard as she could, right against his jaw. 

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she ordered. Cassian’s eyes widened, dropping her as he reached for the blooming mark of red against his skin. 

Nesta marched off, though it hardly felt like victory. She was certain she’d lost far more than just her side of that argument. Cassian’s booming laughter chased her back in doors, where Nesta remained even after he returned that afternoon. 

She couldn’t face him.

And she certainly couldn’t face herself—or her memories.

-*-

“I heard a rumor about ye,” Emerie called as Nesta browsed the shelves of her shop. 

“Oh?” Nesta replied, putting a bag of pasta in her little shopping basket.

“I heard Cassian made ye part of his reenactment last week.”

A groan slipped from Nesta before she could stifle it. “Bragging, is he?”

Emerie’s laugh was a pretty sound. “Of course. He’s tae stupid to realize the reason ye bother him so much is because he has a crush on ye. Like a schoolboy tugging on yer braids.”

“Gross,” Nesta responded. Though, Emerie had grown up with Cassian. Surely she could shed light on why he was so…so…Cassian? “Why is he single?”

Emerie’s brown eyes danced with delight. “Thinking about him, tae?”

“Nope. Just curious, that’s all.”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t be curious? Maybe ye should ask him. I’m sure he’d tell ye all about it…maybe over candlelight and—”

“Okay, that’s quite enough,” Nesta grumbled to more laughter. She collected the rest of her groceries while Emerie filled her in on gossip that didn’t center around Cassian, before bidding her a good day. Nesta had never had true friends, and wasn’t sure if Emerie could even be counted as one. She might have, if Nesta could muster the courage to ask her to do something—anything. 

But she couldn’t. So Nesta left knowing a little more about the people of Killin and the sense that some of her loneliness was self-imposed. She couldn’t even pretend it was her mothers death that had made her cold. Even as a child, no one had wanted to play with her. None of the other children liked her. 

“Ah, mo chridhe,” Cassian called, jogging up the path that led from the edge of the village toward the castle. “I’ve been looking for ye.”

“I can’t see why,” Nesta sniffed, even as Cassian pulled her heavy canvas bag filled with her groceries and slung it over his broad shoulder. “Do you intend to hold my groceries hostage, too?”

“I’ve come to talk with ye,” he replied, one hand thrown up in defense. “About business.”

“I have no business with you.”

“C’mon, Nes,” he pleaded, drawing her attention toward him. “I’ve been staging battles at Killin Castle for five years now.”

“There is land all around you, Cassian. Surely you can move it.”

“Aye, I could, but the castle adds a certain majesty. And it allows me tae charge more—hold on, don’t look at me like that. I’ll give ye a percentage for your trouble.”

“Fifty percent.”

“Take my fucking balls too,” he grumbled. “Thirty.”

“Thirty percent of your total profits just so you can pretend to kill the English on my lawn?” Nesta asked, arching a brow. 

“Forty if ye let me haul you off again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Thirty it is, then. In exchange, ye’ll leave me be while I’m working—”

“And you’ll stay further away from the windows,” Nesta replied, pausing to both catch her breath and stare him down. Cassian didn’t seem winded at all, lovely beneath a waning sun.

“Fine.”

“And I want a schedule,” she said, hands on her hips.

“Anything else? My fucking cock and balls on a silver tray, tae?”

“You can keep those,” she sniffed, not wanting to think of either. Cassian didn’t protest, didn’t offer her a filthy remark. He was grinning, as if he’d gotten everything he wanted. Nesta hated to see him so happy.

“This is time limited, Cassian. Just until the summer is over. And then I want you gone. Out of my life.”

“It’s a small town, Nes,” he replied with mock solemnity. “I cannae leave.”

“You can avoid me.”

“What makes ye think I’d want that?”

Having reached the top of the hill, and the end of her patience, Nesta reached for her bag. Cassian pulled just out of reach, eyes searching her own. She didn’t like the look of contemplation on his face, or how serious he’d suddenly become. 

“What about what I want, Cassian? Which is peace, and a moment free of the chaos you drag with you.”

“Ye might like it, mo chridhe.”

Nesta glared. “We could have had an amicable relationship months ago. This is all we have now, Cassian. Give me my things.”

He handed her the bag with a rueful smile. “It’s a pleasure working with ye.”

“If only I could say the same, Cassian.”

He merely grinned, which annoyed her more. She took off, daring only once to glance over her shoulder. Cassian remained at the top of the hill, his dark hair blowing around his face while he watched her. He raised a hand in a wave, one Nesta did not return. She didn’t trust this new, helpful Cassian.

Whatever angle he was working would only hurt her if she chose to believe it.

Nesta had learned that lesson with Tomas not a year before.

Nesta wasn’t going to learn it again. 

-*- 

The thing about Cassian, Nesta learned, was that he woke early. He scheduled his mock battles every day at nine am like clockwork. Nesta was rarely up that early and no matter how she tried, could not fall back asleep. He’d taped his schedule to her front door rather than knock and wake her up, which detailed a seven day schedule in which he reenacted two battles monday through friday, and four on saturday and sunday. It seemed brutal, and yet when he came by, sweaty and grinning that Sunday night with a check, Nesta stopped complaining. 

If that was thirty percent, no wonder Cassian had been adamant about continuing. Nesta tucked it away, strangely uncomfortable with taking his money. All through spring, Cassian faithfully left money in the little mailbox, and from April to June, Nesta did her very best to avoid him entirely. 

She was avoiding everyone. Even herself. Most days, Nesta left her phone uncharged so she didn’t have to see the incoming messages from Elain. Elain, planning her wedding and somehow managing to deal with what seemed like an incredibly irritable tenant of the castle she’d been left, still checked in. Still asked after her—still wanted to know what had happened to chase Nesta out of London so abruptly.

The joke about becoming a bog witch had never meant to shape her reality. Sometimes she wondered if Elain hadn’t heard. If she didn’t know about Tomas, what he’d said.

What he’d tried to do. 

As the weather warmed, and more people flooded into the town, Nesta retreated further into the castle where no one could see her. The mere idea of going out filled Nesta with trembling fear. There was too much left to chance, too much chaos and in response, Nesta found herself practically eating in the library. It was the only place that felt safe anymore.

That. And somehow, Cassian, who’d begun knocking on the front door to offer her up money.

She made her way through the open grand hall, eyeing cobwebs clinging to the overhead chandelier. She needed to find someone who could do some cleaning for her.

Nesta pulled open the old, iron handle to find Cassian, his hair half pulled off his head in a messy bun. He was in his kilt, a stable given how often he played the battle warrior, though it was paired with a plain black t-shirt that showed off both his bulging biceps and his collarbone, teased by the little vee just in the front.

“For ye,” he said, holding out an envelope. As she reached for it, Cassian ducked around her, stepping onto the stone floor. He whistled with appreciation.

“I’ve always wondered what this place looked like.” “It looks like a castle,” Nesta replied, the door still open. “Get out.”

Cassian looked her over. “Are ye eating up here?”

“How is that any of your concern?” she asked, hating how her cheeks warmed under his appraisal.

“Emerie said ye aren’t coming down as often. She’s worried about ye, asked me tae check in. I’m checking, Nes. You look tired.”

“You wake me up early,” she replied, though they both knew that wasn’t it.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”

“Nope. I’m perfectly fine. I’ll see Emerie—”

“Why not let me buy ye something tae eat?” he suggested. “At tae Ensnaring Snake. A pint and something else? Whatever ye want.”

“I don’t need your charity, Cassian. I can have a drink without your leering presence.”

“Ah, but what fun would it be without me?” he asked, a roguish grin on his face. “Come down. Even if ye ignore me the entire time.”

There was no way.

“Unless,” he added casually, unaware of how her heart thudded in her throat. “Ye’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Nesta snapped. “Now get out, Cassian!”

“Anything, mo chridhe,” he replied, all but sauntering out. She might have believed his swaggering, male bravado, had he not turned to look at her with those worried eyes. It prompted her, once the door was slammed shut in his face, to go up to the bathroom. She supposed she had gotten a little thinner…and the circles beneath her eyes had become far more pronounced. She was paler, too, though she could blame that on avoiding the sun. Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank any water.

Or eaten a vegetable.

She showered, braiding her hair in a crown around her head like she so often did. Her hands shook as she buttoned up a pale purple dress and laced up her shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to put on make-up, or do anything else that might draw attention to herself. 

You’re so fuckint hot, Nesta. You know it, don’t you, with those eyes—those tits—

Nesta wanted to scream. Hand frozen on the handle, she almost turned around. Tomas’s voice, the feel of him pressed against her, how he’d—no. She took a breath, cleared her throat, and marched out into the waning sunlight. There was no way Nesta would let Cassian think she was afraid of going outside.

Even if he was right.

It wasn’t the outdoors that made her nervous. It was all the people, it was the things she couldn’t control. 

By the time she made it down the hill and into the center of the village, Emerie had closed up for the day. A little handwritten note told Nesta exactly where she was. 

The Ensnaring Snake. 

It had Cassian written all over it. Still, despite how it made her palms sweat, Nesta very carefully made her way toward the tavern she’d once enjoyed eating in. Back when there was no one but familiar faces and the streets were mostly empty.

Now it was packed. Nesta pushed the door open just enough to see Cassian at the far end of he room, head thrown back with laughter at something someone at the table had said. His hair was loose, and he’d foregone the kilt for a pair of regular jeans. He looked so normal—and of course he had friends. She didn’t know why that surprised her. She didn’t know why the sight of a rather pretty blonde running her finger over his bare arm made Nesta back out of the doorway.

Why she suddenly felt so stupid. She hadn’t come for him. 

She didn’t care about him. 

“Hey!” 

Nesta ignored the male voices behind her—and the jarring, American accents that seemed so wildly out of place. Arms wrapped around her body, she meant to trudge back home and pretend none of this had happened. 

“Hey,” that voice called, dragging the sound of heavy steps over cobblestone with it. A moment later, a hand was on Nesta’s shoulder. She jumped nearly out of her skin, twisting to look at three unfamiliar faces. Each of them reeked of whiskey, and were likely looking for more fun than the village had to offer. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered, earning snickering laughs. 

“Or what?” the first, a bleach blonde with a pair of sunglasses clipped to his t-shirt, asked. “We’re just being nice.”

“Oh? Is this considered polite, where you’re from?”

More laughter. Nesta’s heart raced even as she told herself nothing was going to happen. They were having a laugh at her expense but they’d slink off when they realized they were getting nowhere.

“We could be much more polite,” that first step, lunging forward. Nesta stumbled back, falling to the ground and bashing her elbow against the rough cobblestone. Pain ricocheted through her while her eyes smarted. More humiliation, brought low by men she hated. 

Nesta scrambled back to her feet, turning without looking at any of them.

“Aw, sweetheart, come back,” they called, laughing loudly. Nesta started to turn for the castle, thinking she’d race up the hill and lock herself up until morning came. 

But they were still behind her, trailing after her while whistling and making other little sounds with their tongues and teeth. Cassian could crest that hill without breaking a sweat, but Nesta was slow—they’d catch her.

She sped up, trying to think of where she could go. Panic was making her clumsy, was making her stupid. She should have turned around and gone back into the tavern where anyone could see. Emerie was in there, she would have helped. 

Instead, Nesta picked up her steps, hoping they’d get tired of following her when they realized she was heading out of the village. And when they didn’t—when they tried to get closer—Nesta took off running. 

They followed, their shadows jumping ahead even as the sun vanished over the hillside. Nesta could only hear her pounding feet and her nervous heart. She was heading for the loch, the absolute worst place to be given there was unlikely to be anywhere out there. Just her, a body of water, and three very drunk tourists looking to have fun at her expense. 

Nesta slowed, trying to figure out her next move.

“Tired, babe?” One of them called.

“I can think of something else that’ll tire her out,” another replied. Nesta was inching closer and closer to the dock, wondering if she could swim far enough out that they’d finally leave. Or if that was stupid, and they’d just jump in after her where she’d be well and truly fucked. 

She couldn’t go past them. Glancing over her shoulder saw the three of them walking in a solid line. They’d catch her. 

“Please stop,” one of them called, jogging after her. Nesta surged forward, her feet touching the dock before she felt those fingers on her arm again. “Why are you running?”

She wanted to die. “You’re chasing me.”

“You don’t have to run. We don’t want to hurt you,” he lied, his eyes absolutely betraying him. She’d seen that look before, had watched another man’s gaze dip below her chin, taking in her body, wondering what it would feel like to just have her, regardless of her own feelings on the matter.

“Take your hands off me.”

The other two laughed and laughed. “Or what?”

“Or—”

“Or I’ll kill ye,” came another, familiar voice. Nesta could have sobbed at the sound, had never been happier than she was just then to see Cassian strolling up, deceptively casual. He cocked his head, dark hair spilling around him as he waited.

That first man looked from Cassian to Nesta and then, with a smile that clearly said he thought Cassian was outmatched, replied, “Oh? She’s yours?”

Cassian didn’t smile. “Find out.”

Nesta was so busy watching Cassian  that she’d stopped watching the others. She didn’t see that hand shove toward her, didn’t realize he’d decided to call Cassian’s bluff until she stumbled backwards. 

She hit the water with a choked scream. She flailed for a moment, twisting around before pushing upward. The water was dark, was colder than she’d expected, though not so cold she couldn’t still think straight. 

She broke the surface a moment before she heard a splash, and then felt him, arms around her.

“Don’t hit me,” Cassian warned breathlessly.

“Where did they go?” Nesta demanded, letting Cassian drag her back to the dock. He hoisted her up effortlessly before joining her. Water sluiced off him, though he hardly seemed to notice. His eyes burned, and when he reached for her, she saw his knuckles were bloody and had begun to swell and bruise.

“They’re gone,” he said tightly. He swallowed some unnamed emotion, looking her over.

“Unharmed,” she said, resisting the urge to draw her knees up to her chest. Instead, Nesta gingerly rose to her feet, weighed down by the heavy fabric of her dress and her wounded pride. 

“I saw ye,” he said, following her up. “In the tavern. I saw ye come in and I—”

He’d followed her. Nesta might have asked him why another night. Might have berated him for thinking she’d want his attention. Instead, Nesta forced herself to take a breath.

“Will you walk me home?”

Cassian swallowed again. “Yeah. I—is this my fault, Nes?”

“No, Cassian,” she said, suddenly exhausted. 

“I was trying to rile ye up. Get ye out of that castle. I feel like…”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. 

It’s mine, she nearly added, though she kept it behind her teeth.

“Why didnae ye run home, mo chridhe? Why’d ye come out here?”

“The hill,” she whispered, trying so hard not to let him see how rattled she was. Cassian looked down, eyebrows raised with surprise. 

“Can I show ye something?”

And right then, Nesta would have let Cassian do anything he liked so long as he didn’t leave her.

“Sure.”

“Cassian,” Nesta began when he opened the door to the Ensnaring Snake.

“Trust me,” he replied, placing a careful hand on her bruised elbow. Inside, music and laughter flooded Nesta’s senses, and for a moment she expected him to lead her back to his table. She almost wanted him to, though she was in no mood to make conversation. It might have been nice to hear him introduce her to his friends, to sit her down and buy her that pint like he’d promised.

He wove in and out of the tables, nodding when people called his name. His touch was light—careful. Like he knew better than to do any more.

Like he knew what she didn’t like about it. 

There was no way to explain to him that his touch had never bothered her. She’d have to tell him that she noticed his eyes, how they stayed on her face. How even when he’d been surveying her that morning, he’d been looking with concern—not desire. Not lewd appreciation. And how even when Cassian was manhandling her, his hands never went anywhere inappropriate, though it would have been all too easy for him to cop a feel and play it off like an accident.

She wondered if he even realized it. 

Cassian took her around the back of the bar, pulling open an old, wooden door that clearly led to a cellar.

“Cassian,” Nesta tried again.

“Trust me,” he repeated. Nesta opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t trust him at all. But she could see his swollen knuckles from the corner of her eye, and thought of how quick he must have been to hit them hard enough to hurt himself and jump into the water after her. He hadn’t had to do either. He could have left her. Could have walked away.

So Nesta followed him down into the musty dark, wishing she could grab his arm. 

“I used tae come here when I was wee,” Cassian explained, leading her around packing boxes and crates toward another, sturdier door. “You’ll still have to go uphill, but it takes ye right to the castle.”

Nesta was still sopping wet, exhausted and wrung out. She looked up at him, wanting him to go with her. She couldn’t ask.

“Thank you,” she said instead, turning toward that dark.

“I’ll see ye up,” Cassian said gruffly.

And together, they plunged into that darkness. 

-*-

“What do you mean, married?” Nesta demanded, phone to her ear as she stomped out of the bookshop. “How can she marry a fictional man?” “He’s not fictional,” came Elain’s patient voice. “I looked him up. Rhysand Campbell is a Duke. I guess that’s why she kept such a tight lid on him back home.”“A Duke? For Feyre?!” Nesta spluttered, trying to imagine wild, carefree Feyre marrying into ancient, outdated royalty. She’d always expected that of Elain, if anyone. 

“I’m going to meet him next week, so I’ll let you know. But he seems very accomplished, and he’s quite handsome.”

“Is she sure?” Nesta asked, not thinking about her path until she was already on it. “Marriage is just so…”

She trailed off, remembering that Elain was engaged. Hell. She hadn’t meant to insult her, though the tense, following silence made Nesta think she had. “How er…how is that going?”

“I called it off,” Elain finally said, her voice strange and small. “Just yesterday.”

“Did he do something?” Nesta demanded, readjusting the blanket she was caring beneath her arm. “Because I’ll kill him—”

“It’s all handled,” Elain assured her quickly. “I don’t expect him to give me any trouble.”

“What does that mean? Handled how?” Nesta demanded. Elain was so nice it practically made her a doormat. Nesta didn’t believe for a single second that Elain had truly handled anything, and wondered if the engagement had been called off for infidelity. Graysen wouldn’t give her trouble because he’d already moved on.

“Drop it, Nesta,” Elain replied firmly. 

“Fine. But if you need help—”

“I don’t. Everything here is fine. How are you doing? Did you ever get rid of that guy role playing on your lawn?”

Nesta started to say that she and Cassian had reached a truce of sorts, which wasn’t quite the truth and not exactly a lie, either. Instead, Nesta said, “Erm…let me call you back.” Because there, in the middle of the glittering water, stood a very shirtless, possibly naked Cassian. Gleaming in the sunlight, his head tipped back so the rays might warm his face. He didn’t look real and Nesta didn’t know what to do. 

He wasn’t alone. Along the shore, children splashed and kicked up water while others floated around him, oblivious to what Nesta was seeing. She wondered what the whorling, inked tattoos on his shoulders and chest meant.

And as she wondered, her eyes drifted down the packed muscles against his ribs, toward the carved vee of his hips. Nesta could scarcely breathe, had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing until her eyes came back to his face.

He was looking at her, too. Shit eating grin etched over his handsome face, one hand raised upward to beckon her to join him.

Hell.

Nesta turned, embarrassed she’d been caught ogling him. She would not submit to any of his humiliating taunts or those burning eyes that promised far more than Nesta thought she wanted. Of course, Cassian couldn’t bask in his victory, of knowing some diseased part of her was attracted to him, despite their strange push-pull between animosity and friendship. He was behind her in a pair of bright red swim trunks and nothing else, jogging up the path while Nesta tried desperately to escape him. 

“Why are ye leaving?” he asked, running a hand through his still wet hair. “Come swim.”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I just remembered—”

“Oh, bullshit, mo chridhe,” he replied. “There is nothing to do but sit up at that miserable stack of rocks. Swim with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay, then do something else with me,” he replied.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, rounding on him. That was a mistake. Cassian was far closer than she thought, and when she stopped, he kept going. He kept her from tumbling backward, wrapping a slick around her and pressing her into his chest.

She hated how good it felt to touch him. To feel him hold her, to keep her close for a moment before he let her go.

“Why not?” he asked, strangely breathless. “Ye’ve been here half a year—don’t ye want friends?”

“Is that what we are?” she asked, distracted by how close he was, by how nearly naked he was. It took no effort to try and picture what the rest of him might be like…and it would have been a lie to say she wasn’t curious if all of him was large. 

“Yes?” he asked, clearly frustrated. “I thought so.”

“I don’t want to swim,” she repeated, though in truth, Nesta didn’t want to do anything with him right now. It was too risky to be alone with him. She’d touch him, she’d get on her knees and do any number of terrible, filthy things to him. Nesta couldn’t breathe. She needed to escape him. 

“Something else?” he asked, not moving an inch. His eyes were glazed over, staring right through her. Nesta blinked.

“I er…another day, Cass.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I should—” he turned abruptly. Had she upset him? Nesta watched him for a moment before she turned, too, unwilling to get caught staring at him again. Nesta didn’t allow herself to think of him at all. For the rest of the day, every time the image of him standing in the water, Nesta banished it quickly and busied herself in some other task.

Right up until night fell, and she could crawl into bed.

Only then did Nesta allow herself to think about Cassian. 

-*-

“Rhysand is missing,” Elain whispered to Nesta. Nesta, still guarding the door where Feyre was speaking with a Duke, turned to look at her sister, eyes wide.

“I’ll kill him,” Nesta hissed, biting her bottom lip.

“His friends are here,” Elain said, running through a mental list of guests. “I’ll see if they know where he is. Don’t move,” Elain added, finger in the air.

“This whole thing is a disaster,” Nesta grumbled, hating the pitying look Elain threw her. Nesta knew, realistically, that Elain had done her best with the guest list and she was terrible at telling their father no. And Elain had called ahead of time to warn Nesta that the Mandray’s had secured an invitation.

Everyone wanted to see Feyre Archeron marry a Duke. Social parasites and other hanger-oners had flooded into the lovely castle all day, marveling over the architecture and hoping to rub elbows with real royalty.

Nesta didn’t think Elain had managed to get anyone but Duke Campbell, just as she didn’t think Feyre was aware her wedding had turned into the event of the year. Nesta was desperate to avoid the majority of London, and planned to catch a ride back with Elain in the morning. Just to the train station—she’d make the rest of the way back on her own, even if she had to walk. 

There was no way she was spending a weekend with Tomas Mandray.

Elain returned, accompanied by a familiar, grinning face. “Well, well, well,” Cassian said, running his hand down a buttoned down, black shirt. He wore that red and blue kilt and black socks that came up over his knees, a sporran around his hips.

“Do you two know each other?” Elain asked.

“This is the gentleman roleplaying on my lawn,” Nesta said. The man beside him, dressed identically, though his kilt was primarily blue plaid. 

“Role-playing, Cass?” he asked.

“This is Cassian?” Elain replied, eyebrows raised to the sky.

“Have ye been talking about me?” Cassian asked Nesta with a lopsided smile. “What else does she say?”

“That you’re exceptionally obnoxious,” Elain replied, earning a laugh from the other man.

“All true,” he murmured, before adding, “Azriel.”

They were given no more time for pleasantries before Feyre emerged, flushed and practically glowing. She didn’t seem concerned that her fiancé was missing—only annoyed. Elain ordered them to split up, which Azriel did without complaint—but Cassian did not.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said just as soon as Elain and Azriel were out of earshot. “I didnae know Feyre was yer sister. I should have guessed, I supposed, given what a hard time she’s given my brother.”

“Good for her,” Nesta replied before adding, “Brother?”

“Not in tae biblical sense. Rhys and I met when he was at a posh boarding school and trying to buy whiskey on the weekend.”

“Let me guess—you sold him the whiskey.”

“Ye know me so well, mo chridhe,” he said with a grin. “Been inseparable ever since.”

“Then why is he missing?” she demanded. Cassian pulled open a closet door, revealing a mop that fell to the floor with a loud clatter. 

There was no humor on Cassian’s face as he knelt to pick it up. “He doesn’t think he’s worthy.”

Nesta didn’t know how to take that, how to possibly respond. She didn’t know any man that had ever put a woman above himself. The idea that Rhysand would have left because he thought her sister could do? better was an anomaly. Unheard of. 

“I’ll bet they’re outside,” Nesta said after a moment. Cassian caught her by the arm, holding her still.

“Maybe they don’t want tae be found just yet,” he murmured, that burning back in his eyes.

“Cass—”

“Nesta?”

She wanted to die at the sound of that voice. Those brown eyes, that sharp, sneering face and that lean body pressed into an elegant suit. Cassian turned, looking Tomas up and down with such keen awareness on his face. She could read his every expression, the oh, I understand now. 

But he didn’t.

Nesta started to inch closer to Cassian, who, of course, immediately noticed. He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips, and ghosted a kiss against her knuckles. It was so obviously a claiming and a threat, all at once.

“Hi, Tomas.”

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“For my sister's wedding?” she asked archly. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

Cassian raised his brows.

“Of course I am,” he replied, staring her down with those dead, soulless eyes. “Your father said I was the son he never had.”

Cassian started to take a step forward, stopped only by Nesta’s vicious squeeze of his hand. 

“He’s still so terribly disappointed by how things happened. What, exactly, did you tell him?”

Nesta wanted to die. “Nothing,” she managed, her heart pounding in her throat. Cassian watched this power struggle—did he understand what was happening? 

“We should get together the next time you’re in London,” Tomas said, eyes flicking to Cassian with distaste. As if Cassian couldn’t have broken him clean in two. As if Cassian was someone beneath him. “Carter.”

Cassian offered an edged smile. “Hackit.”

Nesta snorted, pressing her hand against her lips. Tomas narrowed his eyes, but kept moving without insulting her. Nesta imagined he, too, realized the danger Cassian presented. Even without those swollen, bloodied knuckles, Cassian looked like a man who could fight. 

“Want tae tell me what that was about?” Cassian asked the second Tomas slipped down the hall.

“Of course not,” she snapped, wrenching her hand from his. “Don’t kiss me again.”

“No? Are ye sure about that? Because I saw ye at the loch—”

“You didn’t see anything,” Nesta insisted, heart hammering. Her two worlds were colliding unforgivably. Cassian and Tomas were not supposed to exist together, and seeing Cassian, in his kilt, call Tomas ugly in his suit, had managed to tie Nesta up in knots.

“Don’t go out there,” Cassian complained when Nesta stepped onto the lawn, still rain soaked from a recent storm. “Yer gonna ruin yer dress!”

“FEYRE!” she yelled, mostly to convince Cassian to stop talking. 

“Ye cannae end every conversation ye don’t like by running off. I’m not going anywhere, mo chridhe come back—”

Cassian hauled Nesta up over his shoulder before she could take another step.

“Cassian! Put me down!”

“No,” he replied easily, walking her back to the house. “They’ll return when they’re ready.”

“Cassian,” she pleaded. He set her back to her feet, catching that note of desperation in her voice before she had to beg, though his body blocked her path further into the castle. 

“What did he do to ye, Nes?” he asked, his fingers curling to fists at his side.

“Why do you care?” she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“Of course I care!” Cassian hissed, stepping closer, until Nesta was pressed against the stone wall. 

“I don’t understand you,” Nesta breathed, swallowing hard as he drew nearer. 

“Trust me, I don’t either,” he whispered. “Will ye tell me what he did to ye?”

“Why? So you can hit him, too?”

“Oh, mo chridhe, I will do far, far worse,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to her mouth. Nesta had lost control of the situation, of this man who she didn’t even like. Who would go back to reenacting battles on her lawn, who was beloved by the town and the son of a Duke and—

“If ye won’t tell me that, tell me something else.”

Nesta’s eyes went back to his. More brown than green. “What?” 

“Tell me the truth, Nesta Archeron. Tell me ye want me just as much as I want ye.”

“I—” he caught her lips before the lie could tumble out of them, kissing her softly. One hand cupped her cheek while the other braced the wall she was pressed against. His eyes fluttered shut but Nesta kept hers open, drinking him in. He looked so wrecked, like he’d been thinking about this for a long, long time and was finally realizing it was nothing like he imagined. 

And so she kissed him back, hands at her sides while she waited for the inevitable disappointment. The realization that whatever he’d imagined didn’t live up to reality. One kiss became two, became a third and yet Cassian didn’t pull back like they so often did. He didn’t sharpen. If anything, he became softer, more desperate with each passing kiss between them. The softness of his closely trimmed beard brushed over her jaw while his thumb rubbed a soft circle over her cheek.

Give in, she swore she heard him say. Nesta wanted to—oh, she wanted to take everything he was offering so badly it made her legs shake. If he didn’t know now, he’d figure it out soon enough. Nesta was not the kind of woman men fell in love with. She’d never been that woman, and never would be. No matter how badly she wanted to be, no matter how much she wanted to believe Cassian could push through walls made of iron and find the trembling softness beneath, he was still a man.

And at some point, she’d become a game for him. Something to conquer, regardless of the tactics it took. It was that thought that convinced Nesta to finally pull back, hands planted on his chest as she shoved. 

“That’s enough,” she said, another lie he immediately caught. 

Cassian pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s not,” he rumbled, reaching for the back of her neck. “Ye want me to think yer made of ice, but I know better.”

“Oh? And what am I made of, Cassian?” she demanded in that hard, imperious tone. The sort that pissed men off, that sent them running.

His eyes flashes.

“Fire.”

When he kissed her again, Nesta’s eyes slammed shut before she even realized what she was doing. This time, Nesta’s fingers raked through his neat hair, pulling him closer. She wasn’t gentle, thinking it would push him off her. She misjudged him—Nesta pulled at the strands and Cassian groaned, pressing his body hard against her. He liked this. 

Which was a fucking tragedy, because she did, too. Cassian moaned again, loud enough anyone with ears in the vicinity knew what was happening in the back hall, and Nesta, for just this once, did not care.

Her tongue swept into his mouth, tasting him like she’d wanted to the day at the loch. He tasted like whiskey and warmth and like she needed to get him out of his clothes as fast as she could, before she changed her mind. 

“Slow down, slow down,” he breathed, catching her wrist when she trailed down his chest. “Have ye done this before?”

“Does it matter?” she replied, certain it didn’t.

He huffed out a soft breath. “Of course it fucking matters.”

“I—” He was going to ruin her. He was already making a mess of things. Nesta needed the upper hand, needed a way to get what she wanted without getting hurt. If that was even possible.

There was no way to have him and remain unscathed. The smart thing to do was walk away. “This can’t mean anything, Cassian.”

His brows furrowed. “Ye don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know me–”

“Because ye make it impossible!” he replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “People care about ye, and it’s like…”

“Like what?” she asked, her throat rough and dry. She never should have stopped kissing him. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. Cassian looked down the hall, sighing a breath.

“Like ye expect us all tae leave ye, so ye leave first.”

“You don’t like me,” she said. It was a question. 

No one likes me. Why should you?

“At first,” he admitted. “I thought ye’d be like yer uncle. Stuffy…arrogant…and ye were, ye know ye were. I thought ye’d leave—hoped, I suppose. Until I started liking the sight of ye, storming out with yer braid and yer book. Fuming mad and all of it directed at me. I wanted to get tae know ye and I’ve been trying. And not just me. Emerie, tae. She thinks the world of ye. Yer sisters, tae, and probably everyone else if ye let them.”

Nesta shook her head, swallowing the wave of emotion rising. “This is all wrong. You hate me–”

“Hate,” he said, pressing both palms against the wall, caging her between his body, “is the last thing I feel for ye.”

“I wish you did,” she said.

“If all ye want is something unserious,” he began, eyes searching her own. She swore he could read her every word for the truth, that he didn’t need to hear her speak to know all the things wrong. All the secrets she held. “Then I’ll take what yer offering. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck ye in the hall.”

“Cassian—”

“Ye said, ‘I don’t fuck animals,’” he began mimicking an absurd British accent. “And I believe ye. At least, for now.” 

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, certain she was going to be picking her shattered heart up off the floor by the time they were done. Cassian brushed his lips over her own.

“When it comes tae ye, mo chridhe, I have no defenses.”

[imagine-knb]

Gom&Uk household chores that they hate doing and how they act while having to do it? I need to get my laundry together in the morning and just thinking about it is tiring me out lol

This was such an interesting ask to think about, haha! Admin Neon

Kuroko — putting clean laundry away

he doesn't mind washing the laundry because there's a machine to do that, but putting the clean laundry away is another story

he has a second hamper full of clean clothes he can wear and will only put away when his mom starts nagging

Kiyoshi — hanging the laundry to dry

his grandparents are old fashioned, so they don't own a dryer, which means he has to hang his clothes out on a line

it's the one thing he grumbles about with them, but it's all under his breath because he doesn't want them to feel bad

Kise — dusting

poor guy has a bit of a sensitive nose, so dusting the furniture always has him in a sneezing fit

every time it's his turn to dust furniture, he will beg his sisters to switch chores with him

Aomine — all of them

he's really lazy when it comes to cleaning anything and his mom (and Momoi) have gotten on his ass about it

ends up taking twice as long to finish anything because he's too busy bitching and moaning about doing it

Midorima — washing dishes by hand

while, yes, he his making the dishes clean by washing them and he is a fan of clean things, he hates how disgusting dishes can get depending on what foods were on them

swears he will have a dish washing machine in his house one day

Murasakibara — changing the bedsheets

for a guy who really loves to sleep his day away, he really hates having to remove old bedsheets and replace them with new ones

he's grumbly and pouty the entire time, but he knows it's a necessity otherwise he could get itchy

Akashi — N/A

the way he lives, with maids and butlers and all the amenities a wealthy person has, he almost never needs to do chores

he finds somewhat of a reprieve when he's made to do them, like he has some semblance of control over something so small

Mibuchi — mopping

prior to mopping the floors, he's always so convinced that his floors are clean, but when he sees how gray the water gets after cleaning, he feels absolutely disgusted

changes the mop water often to keep his delusion of pristine floors

Nebuya — cleaning the bathroom

another guy who secretly has a sensitive nose, he can't stand the smell of chemical cleaners needed to make the bathroom look spotless

cleans his bathroom in full attire of gloves, mask, and long sleeves

Hayama — sweeping

it's one of the chores he's not allowed to do quickly, because it will just make the dust and dirt fly everywhere

he still tries to do it fast and gets yelled at by his family when the dirt is just pushed around instead of cleaned up

Hanamiya — cleaning out old boxes

while not a chore that happens often, he hates when he has to help his mom clean out boxes of old stuff to throw out or keep

she will go through every little thing, telling him stories about it, and he will sit there pretending to listen while wishing he could just chuck the item at the trash already

[gg-selvish]

my favourite fics i've posted in my 3 years

hornylovesickmess - rated e - dreamnotnap

“George, what was it again you said you’d do for us? When you let us down again?” “Full reins.” George says, putting his face in his hands. “I said we could do whatever you two want.” From the sound of their voices, they know exactly what they’re going to make him do. And he’s probably gonna hate it. -- George is a dominant top, at least he's pretty sure he is.

purple hue (until my hands are clean of you) - rated e - kwt

Karl is a professional dom, and part of being a professional dom means not getting attached to his clients. Dream is a professional killer, and part of being a professional killer means not getting distracted during a hit. Those are rules of their occupations, but there’s just enough wiggle room around them for bad habits to sneak in. Maybe they're something more than bad habits, maybe they're a bit harder to curb: a vice. Karl and Dream both have an Achilles' heel, and it happens to be each other.

bad, bad, bad - rated e - dreamnotnap

George moves into a Florida duplex during the hottest month of the year. His neighbors are friendly and help him get the heavy boxes and furniture inside without him having to break his back. If George gets unhealthily attached to them and their kindness and their handsomeness and the sounds they make on the other side of their thin walls, there's no problem, right? He can be normal. He can keep it together and not do anything rash like climb through their window.

the blade series: georgenap bad end / kwt good end - rated e

maple syrup (your purple sweater)

George and Sapnap have a messy break up, but George doesn't give up until he has him again.

good luck charm

Dream’s life sucks. He’s high all of the time and has to deal with his nasty landlord taking advantage of him when they’re short on rent. The only light at the end of the tunnel is a relatively charming guy in his grade who he’s heard nothing but bad things about. It all starts when Sapnap says Karl’s asked about him. Dream’s never been asked about before.

kiss me kiss me / gay chicken au - rated e - knf / dn / dnkn

catching fire (kerosene)

George and Karl play gay chicken. (UK trip)

halfway there

Dream and Sapnap play gay chicken. (pre-George Florida)

never say goodbye

Karl’s hands on George, George’s hands on Karl. Another sharp blindside: Karl touching him every time he went to North Carolina, that one time he and George bumped into each other in the bathroom and their chests brushed. Dream’s hands over his naked body, that next level of touch that takes his breath away. Will George ever touch him like that? For the sake of the argument, nothing else, would Karl? Because when Sapnap and Karl were together, there was something there too. Is this just what friendship is? Sharing space with people and wanting to be small and inside of them instead of next to them? How can he feel this way, so deeply and so wanting, for three other people at once? -- Sapnap is deadly in love with three people who might not love him and just can’t keep their hands to themselves.

out of focus, eye to eye - sfw - dreamnap /r to dnn /qp

two headlights shine through the sleepless night (and i will get you alone)

Sapnap has been in love with Dream for a long time, but he's also his best friend. He drives halfway across the country to move in with him on an overnight notice, but didn't count on the night they meet feeling quite so magical.

treacherous

Dream and Sapnap live alone together for two years. One house, one kiss shared between them, and many feelings surrounding that.

friction

George reflects on how Dream and Sapnap got together romantically, and comes out to them as aroace.

quicksand

George gets to Florida and watches Dream and Sapnap fall deeper in love. He doesn't want to be in love, but he wants to be something more.

[amazingarchitecturewebsite]

Queen's Park House by RISE Design Studio @rise_d_s: Renovated Victorian Terrace celebrates the beauty of reclaimed bricks and biophilic design Read more: Link in bio! Photography: French & Tye @frenchandtye. RISE Design Studio has completed a striking refurbishment and extension of a mid terrace Victorian house in Queen's Park, NW London, comprised of two additional brick volumes and a lightwell. The architects rose to the challenge of modernising a home to make it spacious and open, while creating separate zones and pockets of privacy for the family members. Featuring four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a home office, open living and kitchen, a lightwell and front and rear gardens, RISE Design Studio have balanced modern living with the traditional idea of a home… #uk #london #архитектура www.amazingarchitecture.com ✔ A collection of the best contemporary architecture to inspire you. #design #architecture #amazingarchitecture #architect #arquitectura #luxury #realestate #life #cute #architettura #interiordesign #photooftheday #love #travel #construction #furniture #instagood #fashion #beautiful #archilovers #home #house ‎#amazing #picoftheday #architecturephotography ‎#معماری (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp8MT_6LqII/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[pebblysand]

not to get political on main but brexit is like the absolute fucking worse thing that's happened to ireland in terms of online deliveries. uk companies don't ship to ROI anymore because it's not worth the customs fees and continental companies don't ship either because getting goods to ireland without going through the uk is a hassle and the irish market is too small to make it worth their while. been trying to order bathroom storage furniture for two weeks now and i just want to burn david cameron, as well as boris and his fucking bus thank you.

[uksresort]

The Reason you should Always Choose Resorts with a Swimming Pool

Swimming pools are always one of your guests' favorite amenities, regardless of where your Resort is located. The Best Resort in Khopoli provides the best Swimming pools that will always be a refuge for visitors and the place where they will begin or end their days, even if you are within walking distance of some of the best beaches in the world. And why not, it is where they will decide to spend a whole day relaxing.

Benefits of Swimming Pool

1. Flexibility

Swimming makes your body more flexible. Helps loosen ligaments and tendons. This reduces pressure and makes it more resistant to sudden shocks and stresses. To continue with the routine, choose an accommodation with a swimming pool.

2. The Pool is Cleaned Regularly

The sea is not going to be cleaned, is it? Even if you take a dip there, be sure to share the waters with plenty of others. A swim in the pool is going to be much more hygienic, don't you think? Therefore, always choose a hotel with a swimming pool in Khopoli.

Here are Reasons to Choose a UK’s Resort 

#1 Privacy

While looking for accommodation, one of the most difficult points to ensure is your privacy. Resorts often let you down with limited access to all of their amenities. If you book a resort, no more disappointment because of the crowded lawn or restaurant. You will have your private garden along with dining rooms to enjoy every moment during your stay.

#2 Hygiene

It is essential to maintain hygiene during the holidays. From furniture to toiletries, everything in the resort is more likely to be more hygienic than in hotels. If you book a resort in Phuket instead of a hotel room, the professionals will take care of everything, including your hygiene.

#3 Private Pool

It is perhaps the best amenity found in UK’s resorts. The effort of getting up early and putting a towel on the perfect lounger around the pool before another guest takes it can't ruin your vacation. There can be no alternative to stepping out into your own private pool and enjoying yourself for hours.

#4 Convenience

If you compare the comfort of staying in resorts with that of hotels, the difference will always make you choose a One Day Picnic Resort in Khopoli. In most hotels, breakfast ends at 10:30. At your own resort, you choose the breakfast time. The same applies to any other service, be it a late-night arrival or a personalized kitchen.

#5 Spacious

There can be no comparison between the number of spaces that hotels and resorts provide. Even if you book an executive suite, the space is smaller than a private resort. In resorts, there are usually several bedrooms, separate kitchens, and bathrooms that allow you to relax comfortably.

#6. Increase Property Value

You never know when it will be time to move from your home to a new property, but confidence in increasing value is always a plus. A swimming pool adds a touch of luxury to your property to help it stand out from the crowd when in the real estate market by increasing its overall value. You may not want to sell now, but when you do, a pool could make a big difference to the bottom line.

#7. Relax

Spending time in the water helps your body relax, relieves stress, and improves sleep. After a long day at work, or when you feel like you need a little break from the stresses of life, a pool makes a world of difference. It's not just for kids, a swimming pool can be a very effective tool in promoting a stress-free lifestyle.

[elegantshowersuk]

Finding the Perfect Bathroom Furniture for Sale in the UK

Are you looking for the perfect bathroom furniture for sale UK? You’ve come to the right place! This guide will help you find the perfect pieces for your bathroom, whether you’re looking for a full set or just a few pieces to spruce up your space. We’ll discuss the types of bathroom furniture available, the different styles of bathroom furniture available, and tips for making sure you get the perfect pieces for your home. By the end of this guide, you’ll be sure to have the perfect bathroom furniture for sale in the UK.

Table of Contents: I. Types of Bathroom Furniture II. Styles of Bathroom Furniture III. Tips for Buying Bathroom Furniture IV. Conclusion

I. Types of Bathroom Furniture When it comes to bathroom furniture for sale UK, there are a variety of different pieces you can choose from. From vanities and cabinets to shelves and mirrors, there’s something to suit every taste and budget. Vanities come in a variety of sizes and styles, from traditional to modern. They provide the perfect place to store all of your bathroom essentials, while still keeping the space looking neat and tidy. Cabinets are also a great option if you’re looking for storage space, as they provide plenty of room for storing items like towels and toiletries. Shelves are also a great way to add storage to any bathroom space, as they can be used to store items like extra toiletries and linens. Mirrors are also a great addition to any bathroom, as they provide the perfect place to get ready in the morning and evening.

II. Styles of Bathroom Furniture When it comes to styles of bathroom furniture for sale UK, there are an array of different options to choose from. From traditional to modern, you can find a style that fits your home perfectly. Traditional styles often feature ornate detailing and are perfect for creating a classic and timeless look. Modern styles are usually more streamlined and can help to create a more contemporary look. There are also plenty of transitional styles available, which combine elements of both traditional and modern designs.

III. Tips for Buying Bathroom Furniture When it comes to buying bathroom furniture for sale UK, it’s important to take a few things into consideration. Firstly, you should think about the size of the pieces you’re looking for, as this will determine the size of the bathroom space you’ll need to accommodate them. It’s also important to consider the materials the furniture is made from, as this will determine its durability and how easy it is to maintain. Finally, it’s important to look at the overall design of the pieces and make sure they fit in with the style of your bathroom.

IV. Conclusion Buying bathroom furniture for sale UK can be a daunting task, but it doesn’t have to be. By taking the time to consider the types, styles, and tips for buying bathroom furniture for sale UK, you can be sure to find the perfect pieces for your home. Whether you’re looking for a full set or just a few pieces to spruce up your space, you’re sure to find the perfect pieces for your bathroom with this guide.

[bathroomforless]

Discover the perfect blend of functionality and style with Bathroom4Less' extensive bathroom furniture collection. Explore a wide range of bathroom furniture, from elegant vanity units to storage cabinets, all designed to elevate your bathroom decor. Our high-quality and affordable options provide solutions for any space, ensuring your bathroom remains organized, attractive, and practical. Transform your UK bathroom with Bathroom4less in the luxurious one.

[gcdblood]

Looking For the Best Architect Furniture?

Assuming you need the most recent modern decisions in creator furniture, London has the best determination to browse in the UK. One of a kind living spaces this website require the right furniture and assistants to improve and supplement them. Whether you live in a vanguard space, a trendy level or a changed over distribution center, extravagance brand furniture can truly set off a space.

Item Flexibility

For creator furniture, London store choices ought to have various product offerings to fill all regions in the home from a living or family room to bedrooms, libraries, kitchens, bathrooms, workplaces or even garden regions. This flexibility, the capacity to thoroughly furnish your whole house, assists you with guaranteeing that the style streams easily starting with one room then onto the next.

Smooth lines are the sign of architect furniture. Search for stylish choices that give the contemporary, modern look you are seeking. For dining tables, you should seriously mull over a table top produced using safety glass or even dyed wood or an enamel finish alongside hardened steel rounded upholds. Coffee tables for your living room could integrate a hazily finished wood top with sparkly chrome legs.

Sofas and chairs shrouded in 100 percent leather in your number one shade frequently conjure modern styles albeit different materials would likewise work. Racking, armoires, diversion units and even sideboards ordinarily look smooth and measured with creator furniture and works perfectly with trendy, open spaces.

The capacity to buy a full room idea is an appealing one in spite of the fact that you might prefer looking for each remarkable planner piece in turn. The full room idea is perfect on the off chance that you are working with a fresh start, basically an unfilled home. In any case, on the off chance that you are watching your financial plan and can manage the cost of just a piece of furniture or two all at once, there are furniture store choices in London accessible as well.

At the point when Cash is no Article

At the point when you have an unlimited free pass and cash is no item, you should consider working with a furniture creator who can carry your trendy dreams to completion. Or on the other hand, you can put money on a creator's creative mind and capacity to peruse your own beautifying style to concoct some plan ideas custom fitted to your specific preferences. You might peruse different furniture showrooms of planners and pick one in light of their past work.

[johnalexcooper]

Selling Property in Edinburgh: Expert Insights for a Smooth Transaction

Edinburgh is a city steeped in history, culture, and architectural beauty, making it an attractive place to live and invest in property. If you're looking to sell property in Edinburgh, you’ll want to ensure the process is smooth, efficient, and profitable. Selling a property, whether it's your primary residence, a second home, or an investment property, can be a complex process filled with legal, financial, and practical considerations. To help you navigate this process, we have compiled expert insights into how to sell property in Edinburgh successfully.

1. Understand the Edinburgh Property Market

Before you embark on selling your property in Edinburgh, it's crucial to have a good understanding of the current state of the local property market. Edinburgh has consistently been a hot spot for property transactions, attracting buyers from across Scotland, the UK, and even internationally.

The city's real estate market has unique trends. For instance, areas like New Town, Stockbridge, and Morningside are typically in high demand due to their historic charm, proximity to top schools, and vibrant communities. Other neighbourhoods, such as Leith and Portobello, are increasingly popular with younger buyers and investors.

The average property prices in Edinburgh can fluctuate based on the time of year, market conditions, and external economic factors like interest rates. Keeping an eye on property trends can assist you in determining the optimal time to put your home on the market. While spring and early autumn are traditionally the busiest times for property sales, the Edinburgh market can experience activity year-round.

2. Set the Right Asking Price

Pricing your property correctly is crucial when looking to sell property in Edinburgh. Setting the price too high may deter potential buyers, while pricing too low could mean you lose out on potential profit. It's essential to strike a balance that reflects the true value of your property.

Various elements affect the valuation of a property, such as its location, dimensions, state of repair, and distinctive characteristics. You can get an accurate estimate by comparing your property with similar ones in the local market.

It is frequently advised to obtain a professional property valuation to establish a reasonable asking price. These assessments take into account not only the physical aspects of the property but also recent sale prices of comparable homes and current market trends in Edinburgh.

3. Prepare Your Property for Sale

First impressions are vital when selling property. To attract the right buyers and secure the best offer, ensure your Edinburgh property is in excellent condition. Begin by organizing and thoroughly cleaning each room. This helps potential buyers envision themselves living in the space and can make rooms appear more spacious.

Consider minor repairs or renovations that could increase the appeal of your property. Simple updates like repainting walls, fixing broken fixtures, or modernising kitchens and bathrooms can go a long way in boosting your property’s value.

Staging your home is another useful tactic. Professional home stagers or interior decorators can arrange furniture and décor in a way that enhances your property’s best features. If you have a garden or outdoor space, ensure it is well-maintained, as Edinburgh buyers tend to appreciate outdoor areas due to the city's stunning natural surroundings.

4. Marketing Your Edinburgh Property

Once your property is ready for the market, creating a comprehensive marketing strategy is essential. Potential buyers should know your property exists, and the more interest you generate, the higher your chances of getting the best possible offer.

Good-quality photographs and detailed descriptions are key for online listings. As the majority of buyers now search for homes online, your property should stand out with professional photography and virtual tours. Highlight the property’s unique selling points, such as period features, modern upgrades, or proximity to key Edinburgh landmarks like Edinburgh Castle, Princes Street, or Holyrood Park.

In addition to online listings, explore other marketing options such as placing ads in local newspapers, distributing leaflets in desirable areas, or holding open house events.

5. Legal Requirements When Selling Property in Edinburgh

When you sell property in Edinburgh, there are several legal processes you must complete. One of the key legal documents is the Home Report, which is a legal requirement in Scotland for most property sales. The Home Report consists of three parts: a Property Questionnaire, a Single Survey (which assesses the condition of the property), and an Energy Report (which rates the property's energy efficiency).

The Home Report must be available to potential buyers when your property goes on the market, and it provides transparency for both you and the buyers regarding the property's condition.

In addition, a solicitor will need to be involved in the transaction to handle the conveyancing process. This involves preparing the sale contract, handling offers, and completing the legal transfer of ownership. Working with an experienced solicitor can ensure that the transaction progresses smoothly and that all legal obligations are met.

6. Handling Offers and Negotiations

Once your property is on the market, the next step is dealing with offers from potential buyers. In Edinburgh, properties often go to a closing date, especially in high-demand areas. A closing date is set when there are multiple interested parties, allowing all potential buyers to submit their best offers.

If you receive a good offer, consider it carefully before accepting. It's not just about the price but also the buyer’s position. For example, a cash buyer or a buyer who has already sold their home may be in a stronger position than one who needs to sell their property first.

Negotiations can also come into play. Buyers may request repairs or ask for a price reduction based on the results of the Home Report. A good solicitor will guide you through the negotiation process and help you make decisions that protect your interests.

7. Closing the Deal

Once you've accepted an offer, the final stage of the process begins. Your solicitor will work with the buyer’s solicitor to complete the conveyancing, which involves finalizing the legal aspects of the sale. At this point, you’ll need to sign the sale contract, and once everything is in place, the keys can be handed over, and the funds will be transferred.

On the day of completion, the buyer will receive the keys, and you will receive the sale proceeds. It's advisable to make sure your solicitor provides a full breakdown of costs and fees involved in the sale so there are no surprises at the end.

Conclusion

Selling property in Edinburgh can be a rewarding experience, but it requires careful planning, preparation, and knowledge of the local market. By understanding the Edinburgh property landscape, setting the right price, preparing your property, and working with the right professionals, you can achieve a smooth and successful sale.

Whether you’re selling a family home or an investment property, Edinburgh’s vibrant property market offers excellent opportunities for sellers looking to maximize their returns. With the right approach, selling property in Edinburgh can be a streamlined and profitable venture.

[incer]

Understanding Property Inventory Reports: A Guide by Incer.co.uk

When renting or letting a property, one of the most crucial documents involved is the Property Inventory Report. At Incer.co.uk, we understand that whether you're a landlord or tenant, this report is essential in safeguarding your interests and ensuring a smooth tenancy process.

.

What is a Property Inventory Report?

A Property Inventory Report is a detailed document that records the condition and contents of a rental property at the start of a tenancy. This report typically includes a comprehensive list of the property’s fixtures, fittings, and furnishings, along with detailed notes on their condition. Photographs often accompany the written descriptions to provide visual evidence of the property’s state.

Why is a Property Inventory Report Important?

Protects Both Parties: For landlords, the report acts as a safeguard against potential disputes over damages or missing items at the end of a tenancy. For tenants, it ensures that they are not unfairly charged for damages or loss that they did not cause.

Minimizes Disputes: One of the most common causes of disputes between landlords and tenants is disagreements over the condition of the property when the tenancy ends. A well-prepared Property Inventory Report provides a clear, unbiased record that can help resolve such disputes quickly and fairly.

Supports Legal Compliance: In the UK, tenancy deposit schemes require evidence to resolve disputes over deposits. A thorough Property Inventory Report can serve as this evidence, ensuring compliance with legal standards and protecting both the landlord’s and tenant’s rights.

What Should a Comprehensive Property Inventory Report Include?

A detailed Property Inventory Report should cover the following aspects:

General Condition: The overall state of the property, including walls, floors, ceilings, and windows.

Fixtures and Fittings: This includes items such as light fittings, door handles, kitchen units, and bathroom fixtures.

Furniture and Appliances: If the property is furnished, the report should list all items and their condition, from sofas and beds to kitchen appliances.

Cleanliness: The cleanliness of the property at the start of the tenancy is also recorded, which is particularly important for ensuring the property is returned in the same condition.

Photographic Evidence: High-quality images should be included to visually document the condition of the property and its contents.

The Process of Creating a Property Inventory Report

At Incer.co.uk, we follow a meticulous process to create a Property Inventory Report:

Initial Inspection: Our team of professionals conducts a thorough inspection of the property, documenting every detail with written notes and photographs.

Compilation of the Report: The collected data is then compiled into a comprehensive report, which includes detailed descriptions and corresponding images.

Review and Agreement: Both the landlord and tenant are given the opportunity to review the report. Any discrepancies can be discussed and resolved before the report is finalized.

Sign-Off: Once both parties agree, the report is signed off and serves as a legally binding document for the duration of the tenancy.

The Role of Technology in Property Inventory Reports

Incer.co.uk leverages modern technology to enhance the accuracy and efficiency of our Property Inventory Reports. Digital reporting tools allow us to create detailed and precise documents quickly, while cloud storage ensures that these reports are easily accessible to both landlords and tenants throughout the tenancy.

 

A Property Inventory Report is more than just a checklist—it's a critical tool for protecting the interests of both landlords and tenants. At Fire Risk Assessment we pride ourselves on delivering comprehensive, accurate, and unbiased inventory reports that help prevent disputes and ensure a fair tenancy process. Whether you’re a landlord looking to safeguard your property or a tenant aiming to protect your deposit, our team is here to provide you with the professional support you need.

For more information about our Property Inventory Report services or to schedule an inspection, visit Incer.co.uk.