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monster-bait · 3 years

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Soooo 👀 you got anymore HCs up your sleeve on Rukh? He has been living rent free in my brain for a while now (like a lot of your OCs!)😅🤩😍

Here are some HCs for Rukh, our favorite gruff bartender in the GW universe. (I've already started writing a small one-shot of Rukh's job interview with Tate, because once I started writing these, I couldn't get the idea out of my head! That will be posting to Patreon shortly!)

If you're interested in learning more about any of my existing characters, all ko-fi contributions earn a headcanon! (Higher amounts will be more detailed!)

Previous Rukh headcanons, including the extremely memorable moment of IvyMemnoch finding a Celtic flute version of Despacito (my fav Tumblr moment of the year, by far! 😂) can be found here

RUKH

Had never heard of the tiny resort town where the Pixie is located before responding to the job listing, despite the fact that he lives in neighboring Starling Heights. He’d been working in one of those quick-service garages before then—an embarrassing waste of his skills, but he figured with his prison record, he was lucky to find a job at all. He’d not been planning on leaving his position, was only looking for a part-time gig, but the job post for the Pixie was too intriguing to scroll past—it was written in Orcish, practically unheard in a mixed-species society, catching his eye immediately. Unlike the other half-a-dozen bartender help wanted ads he’d looked at, the Pixie’s post said nothing about requiring an “upbeat personality” or his “smile being part of the dress code,” all descriptors that made him cringe. Punctuality, accountability, and an authoritative presence were the expectations, experience a plus but not required...it was straightforward and direct., it was clearly directed at orcs...he fit the bill, he thought. He considered himself to have a finely-tuned bullshit meter, and the Pixie’s ad didn’t set it off at all

He has since admitted to himself that he has fallen for Tate’s particular brand of bullshit repeatedly over the years

Rukh is a very tightly closed book. He’s definitely the strong silent type and is not at all comfortable talking about himself. (Despite that, he spilled his guts and told Tate his whole life story during his job interview—falling for the bullshit instance #1)

He discovered a love of reading during his incarceration, one he didn’t possess in his younger days. When he moved to Starling Heights, he was low-key delighted to find his apartment was on the same block as the library. He prefers mysteries and crime novels to anything overly literary, doesn’t have the patience for the endless world-building of high fantasy, and enjoys a wide spectrum of non-fiction. It’s become a game of sorts, engaging Ainsley in conversation and being able to not only keep up, but add his own insights and facts.

Another mental game he likes to play is trying to pinpoint Tate’s actual age. He’d never come right out and ask but sometimes Tate will chime into conversations knowing things he just...shouldn’t, or else will make references to things that Rukh can barely remember from his *own* childhood, things he remembers his parents reminiscing over. He’s added some Celtic history books to his rotation and surreptitiously jots down notes on the random head-scratchers Tate will casually drop and follows rabbit holes looking into said notes...as a result, he’s even more spooked by Tate than he was before he started snooping 😂

When Rukh first started at the Pixie, he thought they would fail. He was positive about it. Too small, in the middle of nowhere, an owner who very quickly made enemies with most of the people in town...he was shocked when the old girl's business plan actually fell into place. Shocked and thrilled, of course. He loves having a routine, loves having a reason to get up and feel energized every day, likes the clientele and takes his job of overseeing the “sightseers” during tourist season seriously. Since the bar turns a respectable profit, they're constantly receiving promotional odds and ends, which is how Rukh wound up with a Bourbon of the Month club subscription for a free year. (Tate hissed like a cat and shooed the offending pamphlet away as though it might bite.) He continued the subscription once the free year ended, and looks forward to his monthly ritual—he waits until his night off, puts on some moody jazz, cracks open the month’s bottle, and enjoys it with a cigar. Thessa referred to it as a self-care routine once, after asking him about his plans for the night, and he nearly turned inside out in mortification.

He doesn’t talk about his time in prison, nor the crime he committed to wind up there. Tate is the only one who knows, and Rukh is happy to keep it that way. It’s not that he regrets the act itself all that much—he has no remorse for his brother, but rather the way it fractured their family, upended his life, and had branded him as someone to be wary of since his release.

That being said...things he did pick up during his incarceration—the ability to keep his head down and just get by, the knowledge that sometimes you simply need to kick someone’s ass, and the value of tidiness—are assets at the Pixie.

Loves nothing more than his solitary days at the Pixie during the off-season. The night-time regulars, while they consistently fill the cash till, are still a handful. He loves the quiet of the daytime, the handful of day drinkers, the time to hear himself think without needing to watch over every aspect of the business. Speaking of which—he knows how to do everything in the Pixie. The ordering, the inventory, the budgets, the schedules, the upkeep...he's not entirely sure why, as Tate very much micro-manages every bit of the day-to-day management, but it was something the boy insisted on and Rukh wasn't about to argue. "Someone needs to be able to take care of her if I'm not here anymore," was the only answer he got, and he decided it was easier not to ask questions. Since Silva has been on the scene, Rukh has been left to his own devices more often and it is *bliss.*

He thought he'd left his days of vice behind him. He drank, he smoked, he dabbled in recreational drugs, he worked on souped-up hot rods and bet on drag racing...prison changed all that and his life afterward left little room for any of it...but Tate and Ainsley are terrible terrible influences. Gamblers and hustlers, he has someone to talk cars with again, to trade intel on illegal street racing with, the chance to get his hands just a littttle bit dirty again, and he loves it

Smokey blues, soulful R&B, moody rock

Sloooow dancing

He is *incredibly* protective of Elshona. He’s the first person who meets her once she arrives in her new home, and he recognizes the fear in her eyes. He’s the only one who understands what it means to be cast out of one’s community, he knows what it means to have to start over again. He doesn’t understand the relationship she has with Tate, doesn’t know all of the details of her expulsion and shunning from her clan, but he’s made a quiet promise to himself that she’ll never be left to flounder completely alone again.

Has a FWB relationship with a half-troll woman in his building. Single mom, splits custody with her ex, so has several nights a week free, and she’ll spend one of them in his bed. It’s casual and neither of them is interested in pursuing more, but it’s occasional companionship and scratches an itch.

He's not immune to the plethora of easy sex the commune attracts. There would be hell to pay if the staff acted on anything beyond mild flirtation at the Pixie, but he'd be a liar if he said he hadn't drifted down to the parties and pool-side bar before to check things out. He's been on the receiving end of more than one edge of the party blowjob to know how addictive that sort of access to easy sex could be; he sees the commune residents and the reckless way they behave and knows how easy it would be to slip into that lust-crazed mindset, and makes a point of only indulging in visiting that side of the resort occasionally

He much prefers to find his partners the old fashioned way: closer to home, in one of the dimly lit little pubs around his neighborhood. He loves the adrenaline rush of a flirtation turning into close talking and lingering hands, that first heat-filled kiss. He doesn't mind the evening ending back at his or her place, he's not picky, and prefers to savor the night (as opposed to the fast, anonymous sex at the commune parties.) Ladies on top or old-fashioned missionary, any position that lets him see their faces: heads dropped back, faces screwed up in ecstasy, that moment when they come...he'll take that over a blow job in the dark any day of the week

A skill that Tate possesses that Rukh greatly admires and strives to emulate: easy banter which leads to confidences shared. They were talking about cars one minute, and in the next Rukh was revealing the details of the day he killed his brother, the shunning of his clan which followed, and his incarceration. He left that initial interview feeling shaken, positive that he'd been the victim of fae magic...but he's come to realize that there is truth in the old adage of hairstylists and barkeeps being the keepers of the whole town's secrets. Tate knows everything about everyone, is able to tease out information as casually as pouring the next drink, and Rukh has begun to employ the same tactics. He was shocked to find that it actually works. As the years have gone on, he's improved his game and knows much about all of the Pixie's regulars, hears the commune gossip and news from town, and is gleeful with the power of being able to pass on information that the Pixie can use to leverage her business.

There is very little that scares him in this world. Possessions are just things and things can be replaced, he's been in fights with bigger, meaner dudes than the Pixie's roughest patrons, and he's not afraid to meet his maker. He's let go of the past and the people in it and tries to live life one day at a time, and that's not a mindset that lends itself to fear much. Tate is a wholly different story. Rukh knew his type in prison: those who viewed other people as pawns, who traded and secrets gossip to advance their own positions; had a minotaur cellmate who was that sort and he got his ass kicked on the regular for it. He knew a lizardman who was as slippery, who contorted himself in and out of trouble, ingratiating himself with the guards and the inmates of the upper echelons to hold himself out of real hot water...but he's never met anyone with the same capacity for mischief and spite as his current employer, has never met anyone so terrifyingly adept at causing trouble while staying out of it. The boy isn't overly concerned about making enemies or worrying about his own hide and wreaks havoc for havoc's sake, and Rukh might be impressed if he didn't actually care about him. Silva is, in Rukh's opinion, Tate's perfect match. A sweet little angel, an absolute beauty, wide-eyed and innocent looking and, Rukh (rightly) suspects, just as shrewd and self-preserving as Tate. He has a feeling the entire town will be set ablaze if/when their relationship consumes itself, and only hopes it happens on his day off.

I hope you enjoyed this little peek into a character who doesn't get as much page time as some of his peers! If you'd like a headcanon of your own, visit my ko-fi! Thanks so much, IvyMemnoch!

#monsterbait answers #ko-fi #girls weekend #the plundered pixie #rukh #ivymemnoch

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stopforamoment · 6 years

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Domestic Bliss—Bastien and Rinda Drabbles

Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Parks Word Count: 5,459 Rating: M for Language Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 for always being my sounding board! Thank you @cora-nova @silviasutton1989 @bobasheebaby @riseandshinelittleblossom for still being a part of the journey!

Summary: Just some drabbles of everyday life with Bastien, Rinda, and Henry.

Laundry Rinda was searching for a dish towel to dry her hands. Bastien smirked but he didn’t say anything, and Rinda rolled her eyes. “I know. There’s a batch of laundry still sitting in the dryer. That’s where all the dish towels are. Guess I should fold laundry and put it away, huh?” Bastien shrugged. “I would think it’s easier to keep the clean towels in the kitchen. Unless you don’t mind walking over to the dryer to grab a towel when you need to dry your hands?” Rinda calmly reached around Bastien and used the front of his shorts to dry her hands, purposely taking her time to rub her hands very dry. Bastien sucked in his breath and gripped the counter as Rinda deliberately cupped his balls and stroked his shaft as she dried her hands. He spun around and grabbed Rinda before she could turn away, pulling her close for a passionate kiss. When Rinda leaned into him she wrapped her arms around his waist and reached down to give his ass a squeeze. Bastien grinned as he took Rinda’s hand to lead her out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, but suddenly Rinda pulled away. “Tria?” “Yes, Tiger?” “Where are you going, sweetheart?” Rinda gave Bastien an innocent look. “To the dryer. I have to fold dish towels.” Band Geek

Now that they were staying in Cordonia, Rinda insisted that Henry continue with at least some of the activities he did back home. In Wisconsin he was in rec baseball, swim club and cub scouts. He also took trumpet lessons through school. In Cordonia there wasn’t a baseball team and he didn’t want to play football on a team. Rinda breathed a small sigh of relief and ignored Bastien’s smirk. He didn’t mind doing a swim club here, and he wanted to be in Scouts of Cordonia because Phillip was too. He also definitely wanted to keep taking trumpet lessons and Rinda gave her enthusiastic approval, although she did give Bastien a discreet wink. Henry was still a beginner, so at times it was painful to hear him play. But that was all part of it. And Rinda remembered all too well how her parents would tease her squeaky solos when she practiced the violin as a child, and how much that hurt her feelings. But she had Grandma Lorinda to encourage her. And now it was Rinda’s turn to give encouragement to her son. And she did, to the point that back home she would go out of her way to make sure Henry never practiced in front of his grandparents. They went to his band concerts and Rinda would squirm with embarrassment as her dad commented on the overall quality of the performance—forgetting these were fourth and fifth graders who were beginner students. And forgetting that everyone else sitting around them were proud of their children and were scowling at Rinda’s dad for his insensitive commentary. Rinda would always provide that encouragement to Henry, to do his best no matter what. And of course Bonk would do the same for his Knuddelbär. And he did. Sometimes Henry would come in the living room and play a few songs for them. He would usually start laughing, which meant he’d be laughing spit into his mouthpiece, which made him (and Rinda and Bastien) laugh even more. Sometimes he’d remove the mouth piece and purposely make duck quacking noises when he blew through it. But then there were times they heard him practicing a part over and over, and they heard Henry get frustrated with himself. Bastien smiled, knowing Rinda was the same way when she was upset with herself. Then he’d knock on the door, waiting for Henry’s permission before going in his room. He’d tousle Henry’s hair and tell him that he was doing a good job, but could he stop practicing that piece just long enough to play a quick song for his Bonk? And Henry would smile and play a song that he knew really well. Then Bastien would hug his Knuddelbär and thank him for playing that song. And that song he was practicing earlier? He couldn’t wait until Henry was ready to play that song for him too.

Henry’s Shoes “Mom, where are my shoes?” “I don’t know. Where did you leave them last? Henry rolled his eyes and stormed back into his room. “They’re not in here.” Rinda calmly ignored Henry. “Mom!” “Yes?” “Where are my shoes?” “Henry, I wasn’t the last one to wear them. You were. Check by the door. Or the couch. And while you’re at it, find your coat.” “Bonk? Have you seen my shoes?” No answer. “Bonk? BONK! Are my shoes in your bedroom?” Bastien walked out of the bedroom, straightening his tie. “Knuddelbär, why don’t you retrace your steps. You came home from school and did homework. Were you still wearing your shoes?”

Henry scrunched his nose. “Yes.” “Okay, then what?” “We went outside, and when we were about to come back in you said my shoes were too muddy and I was supposed to take them off and hit them together to get the mud off.” “Then what?” Henry blushed. “Knuddelbär, then what?” He rolled his eyes. I didn’t do a very good job, so you told me that I had to leave them outside if I wasn’t going to clean them properly.” “And?” Henry was getting flustered. “And you told me it was going to rain, and that I should just take the time to clean them. But I didn’t want to, because the dirt will just come off when I’m walking around.” Shit. It rained last night. “Bonk? Are my shoes still outside?” Bastien looked at Rinda. “Did you bring Henry’s shoes inside?” Rinda shook her head. “And I didn’t bring them inside. Henry, did you bring your shoes inside?” Henry glared at Bastien as he went outside to grab his dripping wet shoes. “Mom, they’re soaked.” “Yup. So your options are to stand there with wet shoes or wear another pair. You have five minutes before we leave.”

Henry was grumbling as he went into his room to find another pair of shoes. “Mom, my other pair is too small. And it’s too cold to wear sandals and I’m not wearing boots.” “Four minutes, Henry. Wet shoes, tight shoes, sandals, or boots. Make a choice.” Henry threw his shoes in the dryer and then huffed off to his room. Rinda just shook her head. “Should we let him know that life just gets worse as you get older?” Bastien grinned. “No. He won’t listen, anyways.” Rinda laughed and gave him a loving kiss. “Well, it’s another thing to tell his therapist. And horror stories to tell his own kids. How we walked to school uphill both ways, in soaking wet shoes because he didn’t listen to his Bonk’s advice. Henry came out of his room with several pairs of socks. He put on two layers of socks before getting his shoes out of the dryer and putting them on, and then he put a couple extra pairs in his backpack to change into throughout the day. Bastien smiled, proud of his ingenuity. “Do you want a plastic bag to put the wet socks in?” Henry nodded and Bastien tousled his hair before putting the plastic bag in his backpack. “Have a good day, Knuddelbär. I love you.” Henry grumbled that it wasn’t going to be a good day because of his wet shoes, and Bastien cheerfully repeated that he loved him. Henry rolled his eyes. “Love you too, Bonk.” Rinda was waiting by the door, chuckling as she made eye contact with Bastien. “Okay Knuddelbär. Grab your coat and backpack. We gotta get going.” Henry froze, unsure of where his coat was. Shit. Did I leave that outside too? Rinda smirked and pointed to the kitchen table. It was sitting on one of the chairs. Rinda walked over to Bastien, both of them trying not to laugh. He leaned down so he could wrap his arms around her and lift her up. “I love you, Tria. Have a good day.” Rinda leaned in for a kiss and then nuzzled his nose. “I love you too, Tiger. And I hope you have a good day too.” The Man Cold Rinda wasn’t afraid of the Man Cold—unless she was sick or Henry was sick. Then there was nothing worse than a grown-ass man grumbling for something when she had other shit to deal with. Fortunately for Bastien, his first Man Cold came when Rinda and Henry were healthy, and she was happy to nurse her poor, sick, Tiger back to health. It actually made Rinda chuckle that a man who took a bullet for his king and was buried in rubble could be taken down by the common cold—and be such a pathetic snuggle bug about it. “Tria? I can’t breathe. I feel awful.” “I know, poor sick Tiger. Do you want me to help you take a hot shower? That might help.” Bastien gave her a pathetic nod so Rinda helped him out of bed and into the shower, reassuring him that it was okay to cough up yuck and blow snot down the drain if that helped him decongest. When he was done Rinda dried him off and helped him put on some snuggly lounge pants and a shirt. While he was in the shower she had changed the sheets, adding some eucalyptus essential oils. “Sweetheart, I’m going to rub Vicks on you and make you drink Grandma Lorinda’s cold remedy. It really does help.” Then she got the Vicks vapor rub and first rubbed some on his feet, careful not to tickle him too much, and put a pair of snuggy socks on him. Then she rubbed it on his chest, gently massaging him. It helped. A little. He was now able to breathe out of one nostril. He sighed with bliss as Rinda fluffed his pillows so he could sleep upright and she tucked the blankets around him. Then she gave him the box of extra-soft Kleenex that she bought just for him. But then she also forced him to drink Grandma Lorinda’s awful-tasting cold remedy. Fortunately Bastien’s taste buds were numbed from his cold and his nose was plugged enough that he couldn’t smell it. It was an old-world remedy that Rinda claimed would work wonders. And it did. Bastien was feeling much better the next morning, although he wouldn’t mind if Rinda still wanted to cuddle in bed with him for awhile and run her fingers through his hair. Rinda smiled. “As you wish, Schmusetiger.” Cuddly Tiger. And then when Henry got sick, Rinda patiently repeated the entire process for him.

The Flu Bug

Rinda usually managed to stay healthy when Jameson and Henry were sick, but once they felt better she went down. Hard. Last year, however, she was lucky. It was like her body knew she couldn’t get sick because she didn’t have Jameson to pick up the slack if she couldn’t function. But this year it was payback. Her body knew that Rinda had Bastien to help her, so once he and Henry were healthy again, Rinda got sick. Really, really sick. And she was even more pathetic than Henry and Bastien combined. “Tiger? It’s not fair. You guys just had a cold. I have the flu.” She was curled up on the bathroom floor, enjoying a brief moment when the room wasn’t spinning and she wasn’t feeling queasy. But then it happened again, and she was crying. “I hate dry heaving . . . Oh, God . . . There’s nothing left . . . Why . . .” Poor Bastien tried to help by holding back her troll doll curls, but Rinda moaned for him to stop touching her. “Everything hurts, Bastien. Even my hair hurts. Sweetheart, there’s nothing anyone can do. Just leave me here to die. Take care of Henry and live your best lives.” Bastien would have laughed at how dramatic she was--if he didn’t feel so horrible for his poor Tria. He gave her some water to drink, but it didn’t stay down. Now Rinda was like a stubborn child, pushing her face away and clamping her mouth shut, refusing to drink any more of the water Bastien was patiently trying to give her. “Tria, you’ll get dehydrated. Just try a smaller sip this time. I even got you a straw. Please, sweetheart. Just try? For me?” An hour later Bastien checked the bathroom to see if Rinda wanted him to carry her to bed. He could see she was shaking and miserable on the cold tile floor, but she wanted to stay put. She barely made it to the bathroom when everything started hours ago. Plus she was just so sore. And her muscles hurt from all of the dry heaving. Bastien brought her a pillow and blanket, helping her get as comfortable as possible on the floor. He wanted to sleep on the floor with her, but Rinda told him to please stay away from her. She still loved him and loved that he was willing to sleep on the bathroom floor with her. But she just wanted to be alone and not touched when she was this sick. Bastien and Henry woke up in the middle of the night to more of Rinda’s retching and sobbing. Henry went to get another glass of water and a tropical punch Fla-Vor-Ice popsicle. That sometimes helped her feel better. Bastien tried to open the bathroom door, but Rinda wouldn’t let him in. “Tria, please? I need to help you, Sweetheart.” He couldn’t fully understand what Rinda was trying to say through her crying, but he assured her that no matter how disgusting it was, he didn’t care. Eventually she let him in and she was sniffling like a child, covered in . . . Bastien didn’t even want to know. It was pretty awful—she obviously didn’t make it to the toilet on time, but he calmly turned on the shower. He got some towels and gently undressed Rinda and wiped her off. Then got undressed and picked her up and set her down in the shower, softly rubbing the washcloth over her body as he hummed a Debussy tune to help sooth her. When Bastien realized she was too weak to sit upright any longer, he sat down behind her and leaned her body against him. He began to wash her hair, gently scrubbed the disgusting crust out of her hair, still softly humming, soothing her. When he added conditioner he asked if he should massage her head, and Tria shook her head no. Her body was shaking and Bastien could see she was cold, so he quickly rinsed her hair one last time and got out of the shower. Then he helped Rinda out and wrapped her in a large towel and carried her to bed. He quickly helped Rinda get into clean pajamas before he got dressed. Then he towel-dried her hair, not even bothering to comb through her curls. Bastien smiled, thinking about the amazing troll doll glory that he would wake up to. Henry brought in the water and popsicle. He already cut the top off the plastic sleeve and pushed up the popsicle so it was ready to go. She gratefully took it from Henry and began sucking on it. “Bonk?” “Yes, Knuddelbär?” “I’ll wash the towels and bedding, and I’ll use a lot of bleach, but I can’t handle cleaning anything else.” Henry was a sympathy puker, just like his mom. Bastien nodded. “It’s okay. I can take care of the rest. But thank you for helping, and be sure to wash your hands really, really well when you’re done. We don’t want you getting this sick.” Henry solemnly nodded. Bastien slowly climbed into bed next to Rinda, being careful not to shift the mattress too much. He smiled when he saw Rinda had fallen asleep sitting up, the popsicle still clutched in her hand. Bastien gently released the popsicle from her grip, fluffed up some pillows to help wedge her into bed so she wouldn’t fall over, and put some extra blankets over her. Then he curled up next to her. He wasn’t touching her, but he was there if she needed him.

Rinda and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Bastien stopped home before going to his next appointment, and he saw Rinda’s travel mug of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter. He shook his head, knowing it had to be a rough morning if she forgot her coffee. After grabbing her coffee he quickly made a phone call to reschedule his next appointment and drove to the university to surprise her. Rinda was able to buy a coffee at school, but she was just having an off day. Her students were having problems making a connection with that day’s reading, and she knew it was because she was approaching it too much like an American. That was her intention, but it wasn’t working and she wasn’t thinking on her feet to fix it as well as she normally could. She made handouts for an important meeting—handouts that she left sitting on her desk. She was able to share the document electronically and the meeting probably went fine, but not as well as it could have. She always felt more comfortable when she had a paper copy in front of her when she needed to speak at a meeting and to take notes of what other people said. Now she was getting a tension headache, and she had 20 papers to grade in the next 24 hours. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Until she started walking back to her office and saw her Tiger waiting for her outside. Her face lit up as she ran over and hugged him. Then Bastien slid her bookbag off her shoulder to carry it for her, and he handed her the travel mug of coffee. “Rough day, Tria?” “It was, until now. You don’t know how much I needed this. Thank you, Tiger.” “The coffee?” “No, you goof. Seeing you.” Rinda grinned and leaned into him. “You muppet gobshite.”

Bastien and the Very Long Day

It was almost midnight and Mr. Ariti couldn’t sleep, so he sat on his porch to enjoy the cool evening when he saw Bastien finally come home from work. Mr. Ariti was going to shout out a hello to Bastien, but he saw Rinda come running from their house, laughing as she jumped into Bastien’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and giving him a long, loving kiss. Mr. Ariti quietly went back into his house, not wanting to disturb the couple. But he smiled, remembering how his wife would come running to him when he came home from work. And she would do the same thing—come running into his arms to kiss him, not caring who saw. That starter house had so many joyful memories for him, and he was happy to see Bastien and Rinda bringing that kind of love back into that home. . . . . . Tria was in her Tiger’s arms, her legs wrapped around him as she gave him the most loving kiss. Then she nuzzled into his neck and kissed his cheek, both of them laughing as he carried her into the house. Henry was already asleep, so Bastien went in to kiss him goodnight while Rinda heated up dinner. And when he was done eating, Rinda got him snuggled into bed and booped his nose before she got ready to give him a foot massage. But before she started, Bastien gave her a wicked grin and used his big toe to boop her breasts. He snickered when Rinda started laughing at him. “What? I’m just saying hello to Kenna and Val.” Rinda reached over and gave him a loving kiss. “You are such a silly goof. And I love you so, so much.” “I love you too, Tria. So, so much.” Then he leaned back into the pillows and soon fell asleep as Rinda massaged his feet. Troll Doll Curls and the Midnight Fondler

Bastien groaned with pleasure. “Tria . . .” He slowly started waking up, enjoying the sensation, until he realized Rinda was still asleep. Her arm had shifted below his stomach, and her hand was brushing against him. Now Bastien groaned with frustration and muttered under his breath as he moved her hand. Rinda stirred in her sleep and started mumbling. “I’m sorry, am I snoring?” And she rolled away from him, taking half of the covers with her. Bastien shook his head and tugged on the covers, rolling her back into him. He secured his blankets and brushed back her troll doll hair before wrapping his arms around her. He smiled as he kissed her head. “It’s fine, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

. . . . .

When Bastien woke up in the middle of the night, Rinda’s back was cuddled against him and his arm was around her. She had most of the blankets and her amazing troll doll hair was tickling his nose. That’s what woke him up. Little Spoon. He smiled as he quickly brushed her crazy curls aside and grabbed another blanket to cover himself. Then he put his arm back around her before she could move away from him, and he heard her contented sigh. Bastien fell back asleep nuzzling the curls he just pushed out of his face.

Oreos

Month One Bastien knew that Rinda was hard down the first day of her period, so he would always get her a heating pad and gently massage her back. However, it wasn’t until he was living with her that he realized the full extent of her PMS. “Tria? What happened to the container of Oreos you bought?” “I ate them, Tiger.” “No. The pack you just bought yesterday.” “Yes, I know. And I ate them. Those are my PMS Oreos, and yes. I took down the entire container in less than 12 hours. If I buy two containers, you’ll have to hide one where I can’t find it. Otherwise, I’ll eat two containers of Oreos.” Calm hazel eyes met his shocked grey eyes.

Month Two

Bastien chuckled when he saw Rinda’s PMS Oreos were gone, but it didn’t matter. He had his secret stash that he hid . . . Fuck. Where did they go? “Knuddelbär? Where are our Oreos?” “The ones you tried to hide from mom?” Henry was chuckling. “What do you mean, tried to hide from mom?” Rinda walked out of the bedroom holding an almost empty container of Oreos. “You have to do a better job hiding Oreos, Tiger. It’s my PMS Spidey sense. I can smell chocolate ANYWHERE. Henry already grabbed some from me, but I managed to save you couple cookies . . .” Month Three “Knuddelbär? Do you want to run some errands with me?” “Sure Bonk.” Rinda heard giggling and the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing, and the sound of the cupboard door opening and closing. Henry and Bastien were running to the car with the carton of milk and two cups, and they were driving to the nearest park. Bastien now kept his stash of Oreos in his car, where PMS Rinda couldn’t find them.

Dinner Bastien was an excellent cook, and he often made traditional Greek and Cordonian meals for Rinda and Henry. However, Bastien was in awe of Rinda’s culinary skills. She was a server for several years and learned some tips from the chefs she worked with, and she knew several of their famous recipes. But it was her “mom” cooking that really impressed Bastien, even though she thought he was teasing her when he said that. But it was true. Grandma Lorinda lived during World War II, and no one in her family ever took food for granted. She didn’t expect anyone to be a member of “the clean plate club,” but you put your leftovers in the refrigerator to finish when you were ready. Leftovers could be turned into tomorrow’s lunch sandwiches, or a casserole, or a soup. She taught these values to her children, and she taught them to her grandchildren—especially her dear Rinda. Rinda also learned how to cook from her maternal grandma. That grandma knew how to prepare game animals like squirrels, rabbits, or even snapping turtles (tastes like chicken!). She also knew how to prepare the less than desirable cuts of meat—tough meat. Offal. Hocks. Tongues. It wasn’t Rinda’s favorite food to eat, but she respected what her grandma did to feed her children when her husband went on a drinking bender and left them with nothing until he decided to come home again. As a police officer’s wife, Rinda also learned how to make meals that would hold up if she needed to push back dinner if Jameson worked late, or food that could be quickly packed up and eaten cold, if necessary, if he suddenly got called in to work. Then as local and state budget cuts pushed them from comfortable middle class to a much lower middle class, Rinda worked even harder to create healthy meals for her family on a tight budget. Bastien would laugh when he saw how excited Rinda would get when something went on sale, and he’d raise his eyebrows in shock when he saw how much she would stock up on certain items. There would be something in a container at the back of the fridge that he’d want to throw away, but he saw Rinda had it labeled and dated. Then when a hoard of hungry children showed up at their door for supper, Rinda would grab some of those containers and the food she stocked up on, and she’d miraculously stretch their dinner for three into a dinner that fed eight. Or there would somehow be leftovers that Rinda would send home with a child. At first Bastien raised his eyebrows. Rinda always found a way to use leftovers. Then he realized that was Rinda’s way of helping the families she knew were struggling, making sure that child’s parents and siblings also ate good a meal that night. But it was her American “comfort food” dinners that Bastien loved the best. Those meals that made him work out a little harder at the gym the next day, but they were worth it. Rinda would just laugh at him. Really? He wanted her to make that again? Meatloaf. Bastien loved her meatloaf with mashed potatoes and peas.

Grocery Shopping

Bride and Groom Dancing to Olly Murs “Dance with Me Tonight”

They were in the grocery store and the store’s music was actually pretty good. Bastien was laughing at Rinda when they started playing “Manic Monday” by the Bangles and she began singing along. She grabbed a cucumber, using it as a microphone as she bopped to the music. Henry rolled his eyes and walked to another aisle so he could pretend he didn’t know them. The next song was Olly Murs “Dance with Me Tonight” and Bastien twirled Rinda and pulled her closer. She threw back her head, laughing, eyes turning luminous green as he started swing dancing with her in the aisle. A few couples joined in and other people began to clap and cheer them on. When the song ended he eased Rinda into a low dip, capturing her lips in a playful kiss that she happily returned. When he pulled her back up she wrapped her arms around him, and Bastien gently lifted her up and kissed her nose before setting her back down. Henry came back, rolling his eyes. “Ugh. You guys are so mushy and gross. Knock it off.”

Extended Warranty

The weather was changing, and Bastien could feel it in his bones. His injured leg ached more than usual, and he was having a hard time getting out of bed. Rinda planted a kiss on his forehead. “I know you’re in rough shape when I’m the first one to get out of bed!” It was true. Bastien was the morning person who had to roll Rinda out of bed every morning. Rinda got him some Motrin and a heating pad. Then she massaged his hip, and when he was finally able to get out of bed they did some yoga stretches together. Now Bastien was feeling better and finally ready to start his regular morning routine. “Thank you, Tria. I’m such a piece of shit this morning.” Rinda laughed and booped his nose. “But you’re MY piece of shit, Tiger. Although I might have to look into getting an extended warranty if I’m going to be stuck with you.” Bastien gave her a loving kiss. “Get the lifetime warranty, my dearest Tria.”

Braces

Henry needed braces, and he wasn’t happy about it. “Mom, none of my friends have braces and I’ll look like an idiot.” Rinda sighed. She wasn’t expecting him to need braces for a couple more years, and it seemed like braces were more normalized in the United States than they were in Cordonia. Still, she knew he’d appreciate it when he was older. “I know, Knuddelbär. But you need them. We can talk to friends back home who have braces if you want to. The days you have your braces tightened we’ll go for ice cream. That will be a special treat, okay?” Henry wasn’t buying it, and Rinda wasn’t ready to bring out the big guns—pictures of her when she had braces as a kid. Nothing would be as bad as that, and she knew it would make Henry laugh. Still, she hated the reminder of how she looked back then. Instead, she tried asking Bastien first. “Bastien, you had braces as a kid, right?” He shook his head and Rinda started at him in disbelief. “What is with you Cordonians and your perfect teeth? Seriously? Your teeth are perfectly straight. And white. And perfect. Did I mention ‘perfect’ enough? What the hell?” “Why, Tria? Did you have braces?” Rinda nodded. “Yeah. Four long years and I was a total dork. I needed spacers, rubber bands, and a retainer. Ugh.” “But did you also need headgear? Because that’s really bad.” Henry started giggling, but Rinda winced and Bastien could tell he hit a nerve. “Oh, Tria. I’m sorry.” “No, it’s okay. I was a total dork in school. Chubby, acne, glasses with thick lenses, full metal mouth of braces, non-athletic, shy orchestra nerd. Seriously, not even cool enough to be a band geek. It started to get better by the time it was my junior and senior year in high school, but yeah. It was rough.” She looked at Henry. “Look, I know it isn’t fun to have braces. And if we were back home there would be more people with braces, but there aren’t here in Cordonia. I know it sucks, but you’ll be so glad when your teeth are straight. I’m still a dork, but at least my teeth are straight.” Henry snorted and looked at Bastien. “Grandma always said Mom was a late bloomer, and Grandpa still jokes that Mom’s the Desrosiers who is still waiting to bloom. He always thought that was pretty funny because their last name means ‘Rose Bush.’” Rinda gave a half-hearted smile and followed up with her canned response that her dad “needed to nip that joke in the bud,” but Bastien knew she was spiraling. “Knuddelbär, your mom has perfect teeth now and a beautiful smile. You are getting braces, and for tonight we’re done talking about it. Why don’t you go outside for awhile and we’ll be outside in a bit.” After Henry went outside, Bastien cupped Rinda’s face and nuzzled her nose. Then he started giving her sweet kissed across her forehead, on her nose, down her cheeks. He knew that Rinda had periods of intense self-doubt and insecurity, and he also knew that her parents’ brutal honesty and tough-love parenting approach only made it worse. Sometimes Bastien would speak to Rinda in German because he knew how “Gemütlichkeit-ed” that made her feel. It represented a feeling of comfort, closeness, and belonging for her. But other times, when it was an intimate moment between the two of them, Bastien spoke to her in Greek. “Είστε το όμορφο τριαντάφυλλο μου.” You are my beautiful Rose. Rinda blushed, suddenly shy. There were so many times she couldn’t believe Bastien chose her. But he did. “Και είσαι η πιο γλυκιά τίγρη μου.” And you are my sweetest Tiger.

#long post #really long post #bastien lykel #choices trr #rinda parks ofc

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