#can I put this on my resume? Like as impressive things in my life

[xxxcertifiednerdxxx]

I am normal about this.

[madelynraemunson]

Bonus scene 𓆩♡𓆪

from the CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT universe (18+)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

timeline: 015, THIS SCENE, 016** | ** = smut

Eddie has an important question to ask you on your birthday.

contains: fluff, physical touch, flirting, loverboy!eddie, romantic eddie, implied history of abuse from billy

wc: 1k words

*play this while you read to really be immersed in st nostalgia* 🥹 (if you want)

♡

“Oh no,” you breathe.

Everything starts to make more sense when you see Steve waiting for you at Hellfire’s doors. He’s got the smuggest look on his face. You quickly try to turn and run the other way, already embarrassed. But the former Star Athlete is faster, immediately lunging at you to drag you into the club.

“Nope!” Harrington protests.

“Steve-” you begin.

“No no no no,” he shakes his head. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

They’re all gonna see you like this. You hate to admit it, but you had just spent your entire commute crying — evident by your raccoon eyes — because you thought everyone (except for Billy) had forgotten your birthday.

Robin and Vicky were already out of the house by the time you woke up. Max, you assumed, got a ride from Steve to their new barista job. Chrissy turned down a pre-shift ‘Hot Girl Walk’, and Eddie never called. It was starting to feel like the most Adult birthday ever, but by a long shot not the worst.

“Put me down!” you persist.

Birthdays suck. Especially when you share one with your abuser. But you’re in a new era now. An era where you are loved, celebrated, and protected.

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHY GIRL!”

You’re bombarded by obnoxious kazoos and party hats, streamers and confetti in all shapes and colors, and what looks like a homemade birthday cake in Jane (Mike’s girlfriend)’s hands, decorated with funky, florescent candles, and crafty red hearts that overpowered every inch of the thick white fondant.

“Oh my god,” you beam.

Max, Robin and Vicky. Chrissy, Argyle, Nancy, Jonathan, and Henry. Will, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Jane, and Erica who also just had a birthday (she turned 18 last week). Steve. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. All the faces you’ve grown to know and love since moving to Hawkins, all together in one room to celebrate YOU.

“We were trying so hard to keep this a secret,” Steve explains as he gives you a hug. “I’d say we did a pretty good job.”

“Yeah sorry we couldn’t get a better location,” Mike adds. “Chuck E Cheese was fully booked so Hellfire was the next best thing.”

“You guyssss,” you begin to sob. “This is oddly perfect. Thank you.”

“Well,” Jane says. She holds the cake up to your face. “There's no sense in waiting any longer. Make a wish!”

You close your eyes. I wish for life to always be this peaceful.

And when you open your eyes, you see Eddie in front of you, with a beautiful rose bouquet and a bag in his hands.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

His eyes are twinkling like a kid who woke up early on Christmas morning. You greet him with a warm hug to which he uses that opportunity to affectionately rub your back. You hear some soft “aww”s in the background, but you’re too infatuated with the man in front of you to jokingly scorn at whoever said it.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” you ask him.

“You can find out lot of stuff from paperwork,” Eddie winks at you. “Specifically your resume. Which, might I say, is very impressive.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” you giggle.

You can tell the sir made Eddie’s stomach do somersaults. Completely blushing now, he hands you your gift in the form of a bag, ushering you to open it — right here — in front of everybody.

"You didn't have to..." you mutter quietly.

You take the bag from him.

"Yet… I did," Eddie spews confidently. He watches as you unwrap your gift. “I’d get you strippers but then it’d feel like work. And your bday should never feel like work.”

You nudge him as you roll your eyes. Such a fucking cornball.

But then you become the cornball. A tear begins to form in your eyes when you look at all your gifts. The roses. A custom metalhead Build-A-Bear with a leather jacket and jeans whose certificate reads “Eddie Bear”, and a gold plated charm bracelet from Everlasting Memories with your name engraved on it. But just when you think you had everything, Eddie scoops up the last one from the bottom. It’s a small wooden sign with a message on it.

CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?

“Oh my god…” is all you can say.

His voice is as gentle as the fingers he uses to patiently graze your arm. "So can I?"

The tear that formed in your eye finally trickles its way down your rosy red cheeks. "Of course you can."

Then you two share a kiss, eliciting an even louder swarm of “aww”s than the ones before, and generating a reaction from nearby, a very curious dancers.

“I hope you know how special you are to each and every one of us,” Eddie says to you. “Especially me, haha.”

You wipe the happy tears away from your eyes.

“It sure feels like it.”

Eddie gives you the day off and you use it to stuff your face and play board games with all your friends. Eventually after the short festivities you stay behind to chill with everyone for a bit. Then you go your own way to start making dinner, which you insisted on, at home.

When you get home, you’re surprised with another text message from Billy.

Billy Hargrove

I’d say the move has helped us a lot. I have room to miss you 🤣

You smile as you answer back.

To be better days ❤️ Happy birthday, brother. I miss you tons.

Billy Hargrove loved “To better days ❤️ Happy birthday, brother. I miss you tons.”

After your convo with Billy, you make your way over to the freezer to grab and defrost the chicken. Tonight’s menu consists of chicken, greens, and potatoes for dinner, followed by some birthday muffins Bob Newby had his bakers make at his coffee shop (courtesy of Max and Steve) for dessert.

Next, you begin to set the table, making sure to make seven settings for tonight: you, Max, Robin, Vicky, one for Eddie, and one for Wayne.

And when you’re finally done, you take a look around your house that you have made a home with your sister and best friends. You’re finally home. Hawkins is home. And for the first time in a really long time, you can truly say you’ve had… a happy birthday.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[thisismeracing]

babe can i pls get a headcannon of Mick dating a Latina💌❣️

Here you go, honey! I hope you like it <3 *mwah*

headcanon requests are closed

MICK DATING A LATINA | MS47

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds when it comes to latinos and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

I just know this man would have the time of his life whenever you guys decide to travel to visit your family/friends/home.

We saw how Mick likes spicy/Mexican food, so he would totally try every available dish with your family and they would be like "Isn't it too spicy for you, boy?" to which Mick would grin, puffing his red face, and shake his head, "it's too good, I can take it! Just- just need a bit of water." You would find it funny, and tell him you wouldn't take care of him if he ends up sick, of course, this is a lie because you're the first person beside him when his body decides it's time to slow down for a bit.

South America is really diverse, you can find just about everything there, and Mick will love to explore all the countries with you. You'll hike in Machu Pichu, enjoy the winter in Argentina and Uruguay, visit all the beaches, and art expos in Brazil, go around Colombia, and so on. Mick will register everything with his camera, and by the end of the month, he'll put everything together in an album and gift you. You'll tear up a bit because you look so good through his lenses, and he seems to have captured most of the special moments.

Your family will love to see it.

This man will try to learn Spanish/Portuguese before meeting your family. He'll casually throw a word here and there and then finally ask you if you can help him, but it's just training with him because he strikes me as someone who'll be quick to sign up for online classes just to get everything right.

His Spanish/Portuguese has so much accent, and it's just so cute how he'll still want to order and talk to people using their native language. You'll find it endearing.

It won't be hard for him to get used to all the traditions and cultural things. Mick will just love how people are warm and friendly with him, and how he doesn't have to worry about doing things wrong and getting away with it, because people are not afraid of being honest/sincere/forward about things. It's a nice atmosphere to be in.

I can totally see him letting a word or two slip in your idiom during an interview and fans go crazy because you're together for less than a year, and this man is already perfecting his language skills to impress you and your family/friends.

He's just enchanted with your culture and even more in love with you after discovering all the layers and history behind who you are.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I hope you guys liked it! Let me know your thoughts, it means a lot to me <3 *mwah*

taligst: @sachaa-ff @kenanlotus0 @dalsuwaha @mellowpizzapuppy @crimeshowjunkie @mickslover @iloveyou3000morgan @mishaandthebrits @formulakay3 @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @saintslewis @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @f1kota @babyiscrying @smiithys @shhhchriss @lunnnix @leclercsluv @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando

[detectivereads]

Delicious in Dungeon vol 7 by Ryoko Kui

#$!@/5 (my heart was ripped out; the volume is great.)

This post is for fan entertainment, I’m not being paid.

This volume is thicc! Dungeon Meshi Thursday!!!!!!

Ok there is a lot of tension between Chilchuck and Izutsumi, I am hoping in the future they will get along better but for now I can see them butting heads more. But during the fight with the Ice Golem, they do know how to put their differences aside and work together to get the job done.

At first, I felt sorry for Izutsumi, they wanted to be change back to their normal form. Also, I was reading more in The Adventurer’s Bible, understanding their back story a bit more, and I was shocked on what I found out on the part of who placed the curse on Izutsumi. (I will do a separate post on The Adventurer’s Bible; I highly recommend the book.)

Izutsumi seems to have a hard life that leads to major trust issues and will only help if it benefits her and her goals. But she has the pallet of a child that refuses to try new things and will throw a fit if she doesn’t get what she wants.

It also makes me wonder what her life was when she was with Shuro’s group, I mean we do see Izutsumi and the other ladies interact and it does seem that Izutsumi pushes stuff she doesn’t want to do/want on too Tade (even though when Tade fell off the roof, no one asked her to go up and do that chore, she just wanted to be useful.)

Now some of the middle chapters, I am now greatly worried about the group The Canaries. This group seems to have an impressive resume that even Kabru knows and has deeply affected him.

This whole group is elves, and from previous volumes they are looking for the secret of eternal life. That it seems that elves take over dungeons when they get out of hand, and from what Tansu has said that the elves want this dungeon back.

When I got the village part of the volume, I was surprised to see how a village managed to survive in this dungeon for so long. (I know that it’s Sissel magic that is keeping them alive.) But I pity them when they just farm to farm and do not really enjoy the product of their work. Like their sense of taste is so dull and with magic they have no reason to eat.

(Good lord if I couldn’t taste food I would be devastated, I love food and seeing something that you love like sushi or pizza and not being able to taste the cheese sauce and crust and spices, I would be beyond depressed.)

With that aside, these chapters we got a lot of information about Sissel, how he came to Degal kingdom, how he got into magic. How dedicated he is to try to find King Degal.

When Laois’s group got into the village, we meet Yaad, the grandson of King Degal and he is ruling the village they are in currently. Ever since Degal left for the surface, there has been a rift between the surviving Degal family and Sissel.

Yaad explains a prophecy about a person with a winged sword who would come and stop the mad mage and become the ruler of the dungeon. However, they need the help of a winged lion (that is their god that Degal’s people worshipped). But, Sissel has it locked away in the lower levels of the dungeon.

So, Laois has a choice to make.

At end of this chapter after Yaad helps the group leave, we see Sissel asking in a very scary way who was Yaad talking too.

This part makes me worried for Yaad.

The last chapters of the book…. *cue hysterical crying* POOOR SENSHI!!!!!!!!!!!! *uncontrollable sobbing* Oh lord his back story!!! His fear!!!! My god this must have tortured him for so long!!!!

You never see Senshi cry!!!!

Now (*Dries tears*) I do have some conflicted feelings with Laois in this chapter.

I can see where he is coming from, (and maybe its just me being overprotective of Senshi) but when discussing the death of Senshi’s old group, I do wish both Chilchuck and Laois exercised some tact, like talking in private out of ear shot of Senshi.

Laois is thinking is hard to follow sometimes, let’s eat the griffin and see if it tasted like the one from your past, if does yay you didn’t eat your teammates or oh no this doesn’t taste like that meal so that means I ate a team-mate.

However, I did like what Chilchuck said to Laois, that he really needs to stop. This was what I was talking about in my last post with Shuro and communication skills.

Chilchuck has good communication skills, he will not hesitate to call Laois on things that are delicate.

Though when re-reading the chapter again, I am glad that Senshi had such a great teammate to put Senshi who was at the time the youngest in the group. 

DON’T MAKE SENSHI CRY!!!!!!! My poor heart can’t take it!!!!!!!!

[flower1622]

A red haired girl is crying seated on the sand of the beach, with her head hidden on her knees and under the rain. Someone with black clothes sits next to her.

The person: Why a young girl like you is crying?

The red haired girl lifts her head in shock and looks at the person next to her. She sees a guy wearing black clothes and a black leather jacket. She also noticed he was strong. She holds her legs and puts her head down. She was all wet from the rain

The red haired girl: It's complicated...

The guy: You can tell me everything. I know how to keep secrets.

The red haired girl looks at the guy and stares at his eyes for a few seconds. For some reason, she feels like she could trust him.

The red haired girl: Alright...how do i begin...?

The guy: How about the beginning?

The red haired girl: Well... to resume the story...it started when i was at school and met a nice and beautiful guy. He saved my life from some horrible people and i tried to help him in the best way i could too. He presented me his friends. We became friends at the same time i discovered a secret about me. I was so lost and he helped me to understand things... we got closer... and i fell in love with him. For a moment i thought he felt the same way about me after we kissed each other. But, weeks later he treated me as if was just an known person of his...our relationship wasn't the same anymore. The guy that i like used to like normal stuffs...like spending his time in the beach, ride bicycle under the sunset, go somewhere to relax...and do many other things. Now...he turned into a numb person. He doesn't smile like he used to...he doesn't notice me anymore...he is more sarcastic and acts cold sometimes...i don't even recognize him anymore.

The girl cries, puts her hands in her face and sobs. The man only pats her in the back, feeling a little bad for the girl. Still crying, the girl looks at the man and stares at his eyes.

The red haired girl: When a girl loves a guy, she would do anything for him. She tries to impress the guy with her look, she worries about his safety, she gets jealous of other girls, she feels very insecure and depressed when a guy doesn't notice her. To give all that you have for that guy that you admire and consider special...not to give you any attention...it can break a girl's heart. I don't remember if we met before...but if you have someone waiting for you... please don't give up on this person. You have no ideia how much a person in love denies many things just to make the other happy. You are or... would be everything for that person.

The man gets a thoughtful expression on his face and thinks about what the girl said.

The man stands up and pats the girl in the back one more time and walks away. He turns to the girl. He shouts "Hey" and the girl turns to look at him.

The man: You are a nice girl. One day you'll find someone that really values you. So, don't waste your tears under this rain for an idiot. You are much better than him.

The man leaves. The girl only continues staring at the place where the man was seconds before...totally shocked.

.....................................................................................

A blonde woman was crying and sobbing on her bed with her head in the pillow. The same man with black clothes appears behind her and leans to kiss her head.

The man: Why the most beautiful goddess in this entire world is crying?

The woman stops crying and turns around to face her partner, who only gives her a sweet smile. He shows her the box of chocolates in his hand.

The man: Hey, sweetie! Would you like some chocolates? And go somewhere to spend some time alone? Only me and you?

The woman jumps from the bed and hugs the man tight.

The woman: Yes! Yes, Ares!

Ares puts his hand on her face and leans to kiss his woman on the lips.

...................................

Hours later

A blonde girl was on her bed doing her homework, but a blonde woman appears in front of her bed with a happy expression on her face.

The blonde girl looks up at the blonde woman confused.

The blonde girl: Aphrodite? What are you doing here?

Aphrodite: Ares is being romantic to me! You did it, Annabeth! Thank you so much, Annabeth!

Aphrodite runs to hug Annabeth. Then, she steps away and says happy:

I already had helped you before with Percy's memories of Rachel. But, now that you helped me, i'm gonna take away his feelings for her too. Then, he'll be yours forever.

Annabeth gets very happy hearing this and thinks:

'Finally, Percy will be completely mine. I think Aphrodite may have misunderstood something, but i won't tell her. She's gonna help me and that's all i need. Say goodbye to your relationship with Percy, Rachel Elizabeth Dare.'

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 1

Chokehold Masterlist

Tagging @roundroald, since they asked so nicely.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3,574

Summary: After stumbling your way into the boys crew, you quickly realize you're a little out of your depth when it comes to protecting yourself. You thought you could be sly and take some self-defense classes without telling the others. But Butcher has a nose for secrets and demands to take over your lessons. Learning a bit of jiu jitsu from one Billy Butcher can't be that terrible...can it?

Warning: Mentions of injuries and The Boys level of violence, swearing, slight implication of domestic violence. Smut to come in future chapters.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but my brain kept adding to it. Just this part alone took longer for me to write than I wanted, so this may be slow going. But it is in motion! Takes place in some vague space between end of S2 and early half of S3. This is the first fic I've shared in years, first attempt at writing Butcher, and my very first fic in 'x reader' format. It's not the most creative title but it's what my brain can manage right now. I'm open to constructive criticism, but please be kind. I hope you guys enjoy!

Sometimes, you questioned your decision-making skills. If the last few months were any indication, it was a skill you didn't have, period. After all, who goes from a normal, anonymous life to joining your old friend Hughie and his weird, motley gang of former vigilantes? Originally, you had only joined Neuman's team as a project to fill holes in your resume and to reconnect with Hughie. You'd heard he had gone AWOL after Robin's untimely death, but what a shock it'd been when you finally met for coffee and caught up on his new life. Maybe it'd been that sense of shock and awe over his stories, or maybe your innate slight distrust of supes and Vought that he had once teased you about in your younger years. But you'd been curious. And that adorable puppy dog look he gave you when he asked for a little help on one of his group's missions hadn't hurt either.

It was supposed to be a little favor, a one-time thing for an old pal. But then you'd met the boys, this rag-tag lot he was with now, and for all their dysfunctionality, you'd been oddly charmed by them. You'd been swayed by their mission, to finally hold those super-roided celebrities accountable, and the adrenaline of an unexpected car chase during your favor must've jolted something loose in your brain. Pushing flyers and setting up calls in Neuman's call-center wasn't nearly enough after that. You wanted to be part of the growth that had altered Hughie so much. To watch the quirky banter of MM and Frenchie, to get to know the woman Kimiko was, and give her the friend she'd been denied growing up.

And then there was Butcher.

You would have been a liar if you had said that you didn't have mixed impressions about him in the beginning. To say you found him attractive would have been an understatement, though you'd be damned if you'd ever let anyone know that. While his brusque sarcasm and biting temper had been slightly off-putting, it was his smarmy charm, flashes of quicksilver intelligence, and that indomitable will that kept you from walking away altogether. Ever since you had joined the crew, you had given up counting the number of times he irritated the shit out of you. And the number of times you'd caught yourself a little too drawn to Butcher in those briefest glimpses of a softie in him. Like when you'd fallen asleep in the flatiron office and woke with that battered coat draped over you. Or he'd given you the last of his food with a grumble when your stomach protested loudly at you for working too long on a lead.

Hughie had always said that your favorite color was "red-on-a-flagpole". And for your sanity, you'd deny as stubbornly as the day was long that you liked the bastard.

But the new eventually wears off, and the deeper you dove into their world, the darker the waters became. You learned quickly that adrenaline wasn't just a fun little rush in this life - it was a necessity. A lifeline when dealing with supes and their equally narcissistic associates. You learned the hard way how easily you could drown…

Now, leaning against the cool wall of the elevator as it rose to the flatiron office, you were certain your decision-making skills were poor. Well-intentioned but poor. You wiggled the fingers of your right hand slowly, wincing at the jolts it sent in your arm. Trying to bend it per usual sent pain in either direction out from your elbow. It was far from broken but it wasn't comfortable either.

"Damn," you cursed under your breath. This was going to be a lot harder to hide than your previous injuries. If your assumptions were correct though, the others had long left the office and were out about minding their own little businesses. Hughie with Annie, MM had his daughter for the night, Frenchie and Kimiko out for whatever little pleasantry that would make her smile for a while, and Butcher…Well, probably still sniffing out a lead on a supe, tirelessly plotting.

When the elevator announced its arrival, you shrugged the bag on your left shoulder back up from a slouch and stepped out. You would touch up on some paperwork you had left behind earlier to "run your errands", then head back to your place. The evening plans consisted of a hot shower, some leftovers for dinner, and tossing the items in your bag into the laundry. If you were lucky, you would get a full five hours sleep before rolling out of bed again for another long day of supe hunting. Or convincing Hughie and Victoria to let you back out in the field again after your mishap a while back.

A couple of the desk lamps had been left on in the office space, and some of the city backdrop bounced rays off the walls, but it was still a little dim for your liking. You switched your own desk lamp on, perusing over the files of most recent cases now cast in the amber glow. So much damn paperwork.

"Who winged ya, little birdy?"

You manage to only slightly jump at the voice just in front of you. Instead of out plotting, Butcher sat at the desk on the other side of yours, arms crossed and an inquisitive curl at his lip. His eyes, however, screamed interrogation. How had you not seen him in that audacious Hawaiian shirt, even in the dark?

"Christ, Butcher," you groaned. "You normally just sit in the dark like that? You could have given me a heart attack."

"Like we'd be rid of you so easily," he chuffed, rising from his seat. "Now don't avoid the question. It'd be terribly rude if you did that, wouldn't it?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." You shrugged, feigning ignorance. You had a strong feeling he wasn't buying it. "I'm good."

"Oh? Really?" He quirked a brow at you as he picked up one of the files from your desk. "Just here for a little light reading then. Don't let me keep you waiting." He held it out to you with a nod. You slid the bag off your shoulder onto the floor and reached with your left hand. He snatched it back just out of reach, then extended it to your right hand with a pointed look.

You tried to play along, even managed to lift your arm without a wince. But the shock in your elbow made your reach noticeably slower, and the twitch in your fingers brought that all too familiar smirk to his face. You sighed in defeat, dropping the file back on the desk. "It's nothing," you muttered.

"And the bruises on your legs? Or the ones on your arms? Those all nothing?" When you blinked at him in surprise he continued, "C'mon, Y/N. Hughie sees you everyday at Neuman's and he ain't blind. Even if he was, you've walked into this place stiff as arthritis for a while. So…" Butcher's smirk faded as he took a step forward, just enough to fill your space. "...Who did it? There a heavy-handed Romeo you ain't told us about?"

"What? No! Butcher, it's not like that," you sputtered, nearly laughing at the idea of him hunting down said imaginary Romeo. But the look on his face killed whatever humor you had. "I'm either working at this office with all of you, or I'm at the other one with Hughie. Like I have time for anything else."

"But for weeks now you got time to run supposed errands and slink back here long after hours? Conveniently when everybody would be gone?" Before you could blink he yanked your bag off the floor. "You gonna tell me this ain't an overnight bag? That you're not avoiding your place?"

"No, it's not. I don't have a - HEY!" He ignored your protest as he quickly unzipped the bag and dove a hand in to pull out some of the contents. Butcher's face quickly shifted from a scowl to confusion when he pulled out not regular clothes or toiletries, but a thick white belt with a black tail. Pulling it open further, a white gi stared at you both. He wagged the black tail of the belt at you. 

"You gonna tell me the fuck this is about? Karate, really?"

"It's not karate. It's jiu jitsu," you replied, trying not to grit your teeth at how he rolled his eyes. "Now can I have my stuff back, or are you suddenly into my sweaty clothes?"

"What you doing this for?" He tossed the bag to you and you glared in response. "You gonna grapple those bloody files into writing themselves, eh? Maybe turn Hughie into a pretzel for a laugh at the bureau?," he leers.

"I'm trying to get out of here!," you snapped, surprised at how loud your voice echoed back. You took a deep breath before gingerly shoving your stuff back into your bag. "I'm trying to get out of both offices. I want back out there. Out in the field with you and the rest of the boys. I'm cooped up here but Hughie won't even think of talking Neuman into assigning me to an operation. Not since…" You stopped, swallowing back frustration.

"Since that cunt got the drop on you and took you hostage," Butcher finished flatly.

As he nodded in realization you knew he was remembering it as much as you. You'd ignored Hughie's orders and went in as backup when bringing in a supe and their accomplice on human trafficking allegations. It had gone sour and you had tried to sneak into the warehouse to help. Instead of saving them, the accomplice had snuck up on you, nearly resulting in a trade off for the arrested supe. You had been so sure you could handle your own, save the day. The only thing that had saved the day was Butcher dropping from a balcony onto you both…and promptly emptying several rounds into your captor's screaming mouth. Sometimes you wondered if there was still one of their teeth hiding in your hair.

"So what?," he asked, tearing you from the memory. "You thought a few hours at a gym and you'd just skip back out there?"

"You know Hughie will never let me on another operation unless I can prove that I can handle myself."

"Little shit would wrap your ass in bubble wrap if he knew he could get away with it, and roll you out the door from it all!," he snapped. "For starters, what the hell is jiu jitsu - or any self-defense combat form - gonna do you when a supe get their hands on you? Like A-Train? Black Noir? Or that star-spangled cunt?"

"Like we're even close to going after any of the Seven right now! We're stuck with B, C, and D list assholes and you know it! And how would it be any different than the rest of you with all your training?"

"Which brings me to my other point, " he cuts you off. "The lot of us are knee deep in experience, at least. Military, terrorism, gang shit. We all have gotten our hands bloody. We're killers, love. Even Hughie, or did you forget? So why the fuck would you stroll into a dojo that's probably sponsored by Vought anyway, instead of coming to one of us, eh?"

You scoffed, couldn't help it. "Right. I'm supposed to just assume that Mr. Billy Badass is gonna have the will or time of day to teach me self-defense?"

"Now that hurt me feelings, " Butcher replied, holding a mocking hand over his heart. "Oh ye of little faith. I suppose whatever bloke you rolled with tonight is far safer than yours truly. Oh wait." Here he glanced at your arm with a jeer and a nod. "Lemme guess - sparred with someone who likes it a little rough?"

You rolled your eyes. "My rolling partner was fine," you grumbled before admitting, "I did it to myself. He…He caught me in an armbar and I thought I'd try toughing it out a little longer before I'd tap."

He made a tsking noise of disapproval. "Stupid, wasn't it? Is he white belt or color belt?"

"White, four stripes. I think he tests for blue soon."

"Then you're fucking lucky. There's a reason they say spazzy ass white belts cause the most injuries. If you ignore your limits in a safe, cozy class setting, why the fuck would any bad guy out there hesitate on your behalf?" He steps forward to lift your bad arm up, not too fast but it still smarts.

"Straighten your arm all the way out. Slow." You try to do so but hiss in pain just shy of the mark, leaving your forearm at a slight angle. "You'll live. Strained, maybe a slight sprain, that's all." He shuffles past you to the mini-fridge tucked in the corner and tosses you a half empty bag of pizza rolls. You almost laugh at the impromptu ice bag and apply it to the protesting joint.

"You're not going back," he says, as if commenting on the weather. And before you can say anything he's herding you across the room to the couch by the TV. "Keep that on for about fifteen minutes and we'll get started right after." He gives an unceremonious push and you plop onto the cushions with a huff.

"I'm sorry, wha-? Butcher, I'm not quitting! I need to-!"

"I didn't say quit," he answered over his shoulder with a slight grunt as he begins shifting a couple of the desks outwards. "What I said was you're not going back to that bleeding dojo. But knowing your stubborn, annoying ass-" He shifts the coffee table past the TV. "-you're just gonna find another bastard ready to take your money and give you a false sense of security. You really wanna roll that bad..?" He slides the rug out far enough to his liking before sitting back on his heels with a little nod. Then looks up at you with that trademark, crooked smirk.

"You're rolling with me now, love."

You blink at him, your stomach doing a little flip at his words. Sure, when you started jiu jitsu it had been a bit uncomfortable having strangers literally on top of you. In your face, up in your little bubble. After awhile though, you adjusted and you had actually started looking forward to class. But the implication of what Butcher had just said, realizing that he was going to be the one up in your personal space, shifting and heavy and pinning -

You immediately cut off that line of thought. "I-I-I've already rolled. And I don't wanna make my arm worse."

"You're right. You've caught me in a rather generous mood. We're not rolling together now. But you…" He moved and stood over you with a grin. "You're going to drill tonight. Nothing that requires your arm and I'll see exactly what I'm working with. From here on out, I'll be the one to train you, teach you the kinda shit you can actually use when shit goes sideways. If I'm lucky, as short a time you've been training, I won't have to do too much de-programming of whatever the fuck they taught you."

"Butcher-" You go to stand but when you reach your feet he gives you a look that almost has you wobble back on your heels.

"I ain't asking. It's me or nothing." It comes out as a low rumble that will not be questioned. "Do you want back out there or not?"

It's immediately clear that this situation isn't going to be backtracked now. The cat was out of the bag and you had to choose. Spend your days in mind-numbing paper stacks, shoved off on the sidelines but relatively safe. Or try to mold yourself into something more self-reliant and capable…by putting yourself at the mercy of one Billy Butcher.

There's a heavy beat, as he still stares at you, unblinking. Then finally you nod. "Teach me."

The heavy, steely look finally slides off his face. "Good choice. Now come over here." He waves at the open floor space he's created and uses the other hand to steer you into it. "Sit your ass down here and pay attention. It's a simple mobility drill. I'll show you only once. I'm not here to do fucking jazzercise. You'll start once we're done icing your arm."

Butcher settles down to sit straight legged on the hardwood floor, a heavy hand on your good shoulder bringing you with him. You barely manage to not fall on your ass and mimic his stance. "Make a figure four." He pulls in his left leg so his foot is next to his right knee and you do the same. "We'll change your arm position later but tonight you're gonna cradle that wing of yours to your chest. Point is to not use your arms to get up, but your hips. Shift your ass forward." He crosses his arms and moves up into a kneeling position, left shin and knee posted under him, right foot flat in front, his knee just past a 90-degree angle. "See?"

You mimic him again, cradling your elbow like he said and stop once up off the floor. A small pat - almost a swat - on your back startles you, and at your look of confusion he says, "Up straight, don't roll your back. If your back ain't straight, you're not using your hips." When you straighten up he settles the same hand into the small of your back and slowly pushes you forward. "And that's about as far as you should be putting yourself on that front foot. Combat stance. If I tell you to hold that position, you hold it till I say so. Got it?"

You nod. Seemingly satisfied, he continues. "Alright. Now go in reverse back the way you started." He rewinds, sitting back, straightens his legs and you follow suit. It dawns on you as you do so that moving on bare, hardwood floors is nothing like moving on the padded mats in class.

"Then switch legs and do the same thing." This time he doesn't move, just watches you slowly follow his instruction. You mind your posture this time, pause for a second and glance at him before reversing back to sitting on the floor again.

Butcher stands, taking the bag of pizza rolls out of the cradle of your elbow as he does. "When I tell you to do combat hip drill, this is what you're doing. Understand?" You give another nod and he walks to the mini-fridge to shove the bag back into the freezer. When you shift to stand up he shakes his head. "Nuh uh. You start now. Go."

He moves past you, back to the couch behind you as you start to go through the motions of the mobility drill. "Pick up your pace, move," he says as he sinks down onto the cushions. You pause at the top of the move to look back at him with a bit of a scowl.

"How many am I supposed to do?," you ask, already noting the protest in your tailbone, knees and shins from the contact on the floor.

"Till I tell you to stop," he grins, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. "And I didn't say that yet, now did I? Chop, chop!"

You glared at his too-happy grin before rolling your eyes and continuing the drill. Back down, switch legs, up. Back down, switch legs, up. Once or twice he has you pause, hold the pose. But the drill continues. Back down, switch legs, up. After only a few short minutes, feeling his eyes on you the whole time, you begin to notice that you're already feeling some fatigue. Clearly, you hadn't fully recovered from class earlier. You feel a little embarrassed that you're already starting to huff. And you can't help but wonder just what the hell did you sign up for?

After another moment or two, you sit up once again, not quite as forward, not as high. You start to sag back down when there's a sudden pressure just between the small of your back and your tailbone, almost throwing you forward and off balance. You totter over the forward knee for a brief second before restabilizing and whirling round with wide eyes. Surely he did not-! 

Oh but he did. Butcher's boot is at your belt line, keeping you posted up. "Hold. When you start again, you keep the pace and move all the way through. You better not half-ass or slouch again. Otherwise…" He taps his toes on your lower back and smirks.

For a brief moment you consider grabbing that damn boot and giving it a good, friendly twist. But the ache in your elbow, and the look in his eye that says he's pretty much read your mind, tells you it's a no-go. You dampen down the urge and he pulls it back as you face forward and hold the up position. A few moments pass before he finally tells you to resume the drill. It's in that moment you know you have your answer.

Hell. You're pretty sure you just signed up for hell.

[likecastle]

Prompt “oh shit” “ I told you not to touch it!”

Thank you, anon! I forgot my own advice from the first one of these and wrote something (kinda) angsty. No serious warnings for this one--just misunderstandings, and some classic Nancy Wheeler passive aggression.

“Oh, shit!” Robin looks on in horror as the precarious stack of books Nancy had so carefully piled on her study carrel comes toppling down. The noise it makes, Robin is fairly certain, can be heard all across the Boston metropolitan area. Possibly she’s just triggered a sonic boom. Heads whip in their direction, and a great round of sanctimonious shushing rises up like a tidal wave.

“Robin!” Nancy hisses. “I told you not to touch that!”

“Well, they do say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” she jokes, trying to cover her chagrin. The look of exasperation on Nancy’s face makes Robin snap her mouth shut and start picking up the fallen books in silence.

Nancy is gathering up heaps of notecards that took the chance to spring free of the plastic box Nancy was storing them in, scattering all the way into the stacks. “Everything’s always a joke with you,” she mutters under her breath.

Robin feels herself flush—kind of impressive, given that she’s already humiliated herself so thoroughly—and dips her head to focus on the books she’s stacking. She’s starting to think coming here was a mistake—not just accompanying Nancy to the library, but coming to visit at all. It’s midterms, after all, and she could have just waited to see Nancy at home over spring break, but her semester ended a few days earlier than Nancy’s, and she’d thought it would be fun to drive back to Hawkins together. Nancy had sounded enthusiastic when Robin pitched the idea of a road trip—at least, Robin had thought she did. But now that Robin’s actually here, it feels like her presence is more of a nuisance than a welcome distraction.

Robin’s been trying to tell herself it’s just exam stress, but it’s getting harder and harder to convince herself that's true. After last night, Robin’s seriously considering just shelling out for a bus ticket back to Hawkins. And now, of course, she’s gone and made things worse.

Once she’s stacked the fallen books back on the desk again—probably not in the right order, but at least they’re not sprawled on the floor—she takes a careful step back and says, “I’m gonna go get a cup of tea from that place we went yesterday. D’you want anything?”

“I’m fine,” Nancy huffs. Then, thinking better of it, “Coffee—”

“—black,” Robin finishes, “I know. Promise you won’t leave before I get back?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, which Robin figures is as much reassurance as she’s going to get.

It doesn’t take her long to make her way out of the library and get in line at the little café around the corner. It’s sort of a relief, actually, to be out in the fresh air, away from the anxious silence of the library and Nancy’s own inexplicable bad mood. If only Robin knew what she’d done wrong—before she caused a massive book avalanche, that is. Nancy’s mood has been sour ever since they left the party last night, and Robin can’t for the life of her figure out why.

She’s trying to decide whether she wants Mystic Mint or Calming Chamomile when someone taps her on the shoulder. She turns to find a fresh-faced girl standing behind her. Robin knows they were introduced at the party last night, but she can’t quite recall the girl's name. Rebecca or Regina or Ramona, something like that.

“Robin, right?” the girl says.

“At your service,” Robin says, and then, for some totally unknown reason, she gives a little dramatic twirl of her hand like a Victorian gentleman doffing his cap. No wonder Nancy's so sick of her.

The girl quirks a bemused, almost pitying smile. “How’s Nancy doing this morning?”

“Annoyed at me, mostly,” Robin says, trying to be sanguine about it. “What can I tell you? I’m just really good at getting on Nancy Wheeler’s nerves. It’s a talent, honestly. I should put it on my resume.”

The girl—Renata? Romilda?—laughs incredulously. “I mean, I’d be pissed, too, if my date spent the whole night talking to someone else.”

Everything around Robin goes silent. All she can hear is the ringing in her ears. “Uh—what?” she croaks.

Roberta-or-Roxanna says is saying something, but Robin isn’t listening. It feels like that single word has replaced the sound of her pulse in her ears—date date date. Is that what last night was? Is that why Nancy was so weird about asking if she wanted to go to the party, assuring Robin over and over that they didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to? Is that why she’d worn her dressy shoes, the black ones that pinch her toes?

Now that she thinks of it, the place they had dinner before-hand was a little nicer than she’d expected it to be. And their table had been kind of secluded in the back, with those fancy candles. Maybe that would explain why Nancy had been so irritated when Robin started toasting her breadstick over the open flame.

She thinks back to how Nancy had introduced her to her friends at the party. She hadn’t said, “This is Robin, my friend from home,” or, “Robin and I went to high school together.” She’d just said, “This is Robin,” and Robin remembers thinking how strange it was that all of Nancy’s friends had glanced at each other like they knew exactly what that meant. She’d thought at the time they must have heard some embarrassing stories about her from their time in Hawkins. Only maybe that hadn’t been it at all.

She realizes, absently, that she’s holding up the line. The barista is staring at her, waiting for her to order, and the other people behind her in line are starting to get impatient, and Roseanna-or-Rowena is looking at her like maybe she’s left the planet.

“I’ve gotta go,” Robin says, to nobody in particular, before peeling out of the line and running out of the café without a second look back.

[airplanned]

Castletown Academy 2

Zelda produces an overwhelming amount of legal paperwork to make this happen.

--

Zelda passed a thick binder across the table at the coffee shop.  "The first section is my proposed prenuptial agreement--it should be straight forward, since we will not have any joint marital assets.  The second section is a lease for the mother-in-law unit behind my house.  It's set up like a rental unit, so it's self contained.  I've never used it for anything other than storage.  You'll be able to have privacy and autonomy while we share a mailing address.  It will also be easy to car pool.  I don't expect rent, but you would be responsible for your utilities."

Link's eyebrows hiked as he looked over the pictures she'd put in at the back.  His friend leaned in over his shoulder to look too.  Supposedly, this man was a lawyer, but it was clear from the look on his face that he had not been prepared for the full force of Zelda's paperwork.  The man had a bushy mustache, spoke even less than Link did, and looked as if he might start sweating.

Maybe this was a bit overkill.  Maybe this was a bad first impression on Link's friend.

She hurried to say, "The details are in there.  You can come and look at it first, of course.  The lease is a formality, just to protect us both if things go wrong.  If there's anything in there you would like adjusted--"

"You don't want rent?" Link asked.

Oh.  "You're going to be my husband.  That would be strange."

He snorted and then tried to act like it was a cough.  The friend hummed.

"The next section is a draft of an addendum I'll be adding to my will once we're married.  It will set up a trust fund for Flora to use for school in the case of my death."

Link nodded, but the lawyer hummed again in disapproval.

Zelda was about to bristle and explain that they had an understanding, but Link cut in first.  "I don't need to be in her will."

"Okay," he said.  Then, "Most husbands are in their wives' wills."

"We're doing things differently."

"Okay," he said.  Then, "Just seems kinda weird."

Link rolled his eyes.  "You knew your wife for two weeks before you proposed."

The man shrugged.  "Knew her last name before I did."

"That's--"

"And now I get to kiss on her."

"Do you have anything helpful to add?" Link asked.

"...Nope."

"Okay then."

"...Just seems like a bad idea."

"Your official lawyer advice is that it seems like a bad idea?"

"...No, that's friend advice.  I'll have to read first to give you lawyer advice."

"That's--Great.  Thanks, Hudson."

The lawyer friend nodded and hummed to tell Link he was welcome.

Link's eyes darted up to hers in apology, and she bit her lip and took a deep breath.

"The last section is information that might be useful about me and Ralphie.  Contact information for his doctor and baby sitters and piano teacher.  He's allergic to amoxicillin.  That kind of thing."

"Oh, that's a good idea," Link said.  "I should type something up about me and--"

He flipped to the section, and his words died in his mouth.

Yes, she had definitely gone overboard.  But it all seemed like things he would need to know if he became a part of their lives.  Overviews of their schedules--when she left for work and what day Ralphie had therapy and how he was expected to do homework and piano before he played any video games.  Some house rules.  Some information about what she did for a living, which people tended to not understand.  A family tree in case one of her cousins dropped by.  Information about the house.  Medical histories.  Some background information about where she grew up and went to college and work history (Goddesses, it looked like a resume).  Some background about Ralphie's anxiety and the timeline she'd drawn up about the bullying he'd faced at school.  A copy of the restraining order they have against Ralphie's father and a copy of the paperwork terminating parental rights.

Her whole life laid bare and handed over to someone she barely knew.

And it was a lot.

She cleared her throat.  "I--"

The lawyer leaned in again to read over Link's shoulder, and Link flipped to the front of the binder, popped open the metal rings, and removed the sections the lawyer would need to look over.  He took the papers, and Link closed the notebook, quietly protecting her privacy.

"Are you okay with getting married at town hall?" he asked.  "We could do a party later.  A temple service if--"

She hurriedly agreed, "Town hall is fine.  I think the children should be there, but beyond that..."

"Exactly.  I have a black suit and Flora has a pink dress and a green dress.  They're from Malo Mart.  The dresses, not the suit.  But I can get us something nicer, if you want."

"I'm sure they're cute.  Ralphie has a button up shirt and a bow tie."

"That sounds adorable."

"It is."

"Flowers?" he asked.  "I can get flowers."

"Do you want to get flowers?"

"Yeah.  What's your favorite kind?"  He'd had a note pad in front of him the whole time, but he had yet to write anything down.  Now he reached for his pen.

"Silent princesses," she said.

He nodded, writing it down. "Do you want to go eat afterwards?  There's that Tabanthan place nearby.  The food is really good.  It's nice. But not so nice the kids couldn't come."

"That would be excellent."

"Would Friday work for you?  We could go after I pick up Flora from school."

"About 4:30?  That sounds good as long as all the contracts are signed by then."

Link turned to his lawyer friend, who shrugged.  "I'll see what I can do."

"Good."  

Link pulled a folded sheet of paper from the back of his note pad, but hesitated before handing it over.  "These are some ring designs I thought were nice, but now...maybe I should read your packet and see if I can find something that's more you?"  The tips of his ears pinkened as he passed it across. 

"You don't have to--"

The perfect ring looked up at her.  One round diamond with two little ones on either side set flush in a simple band.

There were eight other rings on the page, all in a variety of styles--geometric and swirling, clunky and delicate, different cuts and different sizes, some with additional colored stones.  He was giving her options.  But he'd found the perfect one.

She lay the paper down between them and pointed.  "That one."

A smile twitched across his face, and he circled the ring in a haphazard circle with his pen.  "What's your ring size?"

"Six.  Yellow gold, please.  I do get hives with other metals."

"Gotchya.  Does tomorrow work for Flora and I to come over to see your mother-in-law suite?"

"Yes."  She shook herself and pulled out her slate to check her schedule.  "I won't be home until six."

"Is 6:30 too late?"

"Not at all."

He wanted to get her a ring.  He wanted to get flowers.  He wanted to take her to dinner.  Her heart shouldn't flutter so much.  She should put a pause on the conversation and make sure they were on the same page that there wouldn't be any romantic entanglement.

She should.  But she didn't. He was just being kind, trying to make this process as pleasant as possible.  He'd been married before, and was probably well aware that this could scarcely be called a wedding.  The rings were just to keep up pretenses with the school.  Surely, they didn't give tenants and roommates sibling benefits.

"Awesome," Link said, finishing his note to himself.  "Flora will still have another week of school after we go to the court house.  I don't want to be too disruptive, so once school's over, we can pack up the apartment and move the week after."

"I can hire movers if you'd like.  They can pack for you."

He looked up at her in confusion.  "They would...pack my stuff for me?"

"If you'd like."

He blinked at her.  "Let me think about it."

"Alright."

"Okay."

They stared at each other.

"Are we good?" he asked.

She straightened her spine and gave a relieved sigh.  "I think so."

Link smiled at her.

The lawyer friend mumbled, "Fastest wedding planning I've ever seen."

[damistrolls]

A Very Long Time Ago

hellooooo

a few days ago i started a fic about nobody and maledict as kids and ive finally finished it <3

i hope u enjoy

(google doc link)

---

Thump thump thump CRASH–

Volare watched out of the corner of his eye as the white-haired troll bounded across the leafy forest floor after something, occasionally plowing into trees and then hastily scrambling back to his feet to resume the chase. He only had mild interest in the situation, too busy with his carving knife and bit of bone in his hands to pay his acquaintance too much mind. 

“Almost…!”

Volare looked over to see the troll practically launching himself off of the tree he had just collided with. 

“You’ll lose another tooth, Mith,” he warned. It would fall on deaf ears, of course. He’s never seen another troll so wild and untamed. Volare would compare him to an animal, but that would be an insult to animals. Animals aren’t depraved like he is. 

Thump thump LEAP– 

Mithyt suddenly launched himself over Volare’s legs, startling him enough to make him suddenly nick the head off of the charm he was carving. 

“Mith!” Volere gasped, scrabbling for the bit of bone that’s almost definitely lost in the leaves now. He looked sharply at the feral troll, who was crouched over something on the ground, tail swishing. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Mithyt got a better grip of whatever was in his hands, and stood up, turning to shove it in Volere’s direction. The young clown leaned back just in time to avoid kissing a huge toad. 

“Ugh, get that out of my face! You ruined my charm.”

“That?” Mithyt gestured towards the poor, beheaded squirrel charm in his hands. “It looks bad.” 

“Yeah, because you made me screw it up.” 

“No, not the headlessness, it just sucks. You’re not very good at that, are you?” 

“What do you know? You couldn’t even carve a cube if your dumb life depended on it.” 

“Well I can still tell when things look a bit shit!”

Volare held a hand out to put a barrier between himself and Mithyt’s mouth. Between him whistling his S’s and spitting his T’s, it wasn’t really something he wanted so close to his face. He’s far from a germaphobe, but that missing tooth gave Mithyt a splash zone, and he’d rather not be in it. 

“What do you want with that thing anyways?” Volare asked, gesturing towards the frog with his carving knife. “You’re always out catching things. Bugs, lizards, and other little creatures… It’s weird.” 

“What? This? I’m gonna eat it, obviously,” he replied, as though Volare should have known already. Volare grimaced. 

“That’s really gross.” 

“Well I’m gonna cook it.” 

“That’s not the point. Why can’t you be normal and go to a restaurant, or cook real food from the store?” 

“You know this is as close to the city as I go. Why would I go out there when the forest’s got everything I need?” he asked, plopping down on the ground so he could retrieve a jar from his bag and open it with one hand. He ended up holding the jar with his filthy gremlin feet while he unscrewed it, and Volare didn’t know whether to be impressed by his ingenuity, or disgusted by his… well, his everything else. 

Volare looked at the other purple for a few moments, before he got distracted by his mutilated charm again, looking down and turning it over in his fingers with a frown. 

“I guess I don’t blame you. There isn’t much for me out there. It’s like every single person expects something different of you… If I don’t show up for church, they bother me about it the next time I come, as if it’s something I have to do. I mean, I’m almost five sweeps, I think I can decide for myself whether to come or not.” 

“Pshh… Why do you even go back to the city?” Mithyt asked, dropping the toad into the jar, and then the jar into his old leather side bag. 

“Well, unlike you, I like my creature comforts. I want a real hive, with a nice bed and an AC. Plus, I can only handle so much of you.” 

Mithyt shrugged it off, and grinned that big, incomplete grin of his. He looked like such a doofus. It would almost be charming if the guy wasn’t such a shit. 

“Oh hey!” Mithyt practically jumped up, pushing his scruffy, unkempt bangs back, allowing Volare a glance of his eyes. “When are you turning five?” 

“Next perigee. Why?” 

“I don’t really keep track of my own, but I know it’s three perigees after yours, so you gotta remind me!” 

“Remember for yourself. How do you know I’ll even come back to remind you of anything?” 

“You’ll come back.” Mithyt laid against a tree opposite to Volare, and pointed a finger at him. Or more like pointed a long, disgusting nail at him. “You like me!” 

“I hate you less than everyone else. There’s a difference.” 

“Nuh uh. You totally like me.” 

“I like that you don’t expect anything of me. I like that I can have company that doesn’t care what I do. But you? I could live without you. If anything, you’re the one who likes me.” 

Mithyt laughed. Volare could feel his face grow hot with rage, and he was glad his paint concealed the purple running to it. 

“Don’t laugh at me! If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t always be trying to get me to stay.” 

“What if I’m just trying to trick you?” Mithyt got on all fours and crept up towards Volare, grinning wickedly. “What if I’m trying to lure you to my hut, so I can cook you up in a stew with frogs and bugs?” 

“… I wouldn’t put it past you.” Volare eyed him cautiously. 

That wasn’t the kind of trick Volare was afraid of, though. It was rather that… he didn’t want to find out that Mith was toying with him. He hated to admit it, but Mith was the only person he really talked to. As frustrating as the other boy is, he would hate to find out one day that it was all just some big joke at his expense. Worst of all, he could genuinely see it happening. 

Volare chucked his mutilated charm into the woods, and then stood, brushing the leaf litter off of his pants. 

“Whatever. Dad’s expecting me back soon.” 

“Boo.” 

“Like you care.” Volare tossed his bag over his shoulder, and returned his carving knife to its casing at his hip. 

Mithyt didn’t have any further comments, and simply began digging at the dirt with his nails as if the clown wasn’t even there. Volare wanted to reassure himself that Mith cared and was just putting up a front like he was, but… The distance felt tangible today. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he brought it up, he’d get laughed at. 

Volare tightened his grip on his bag strap, and left. 

[navyismycolor]

Unpopular but True Opinion

Nobody likes hearing these things these days, but I believe there are still women out there who will see this as an opportunity to recognize and correct themselves, so here goes.

Some of you ladies out there stating that you are looking for a good man, and seeking a healthy long term relationship with a responsible leader who knows how to take charge, are unfortunately putting out signals which is driving away those same good men, and keeping you from achieving what you wish to make your own. Here are some of the most common ones.

Inconsistency

Just like you do not like inconsistency on part of a man, a good man also does not appreciate inconsistency. It is quite plainly visible to us (older, mature) men which women are actuallly busy or have a legitimate reason for being away for gaps of time, and which ones are merely playing a game. Texting rapidly and frequency for one or two days and then going off the radar with no clear communication is not the way to build up a "getting to know each other" phase of a connection. Such behaviors will make you appear as emotionally immature at best, and "attention seeking when bored" at worst - neither of them an image you want to create before a good man.

Unclear priorities

Stating that you wish to find a good relationship, and then going about your day to day prioritizing everything else but that in your life, is akin to wanting to be a millionaire but putting in none of the ethic and effort that goes into that achievement. You may have very legitimate reasons for considering your career, your next promotion, your friends, your "social detox weekend" as extremely important - and I am sure some of these truly are. But if you consistently put these ahead and over a growing connection with a good man, he will rightfully interpret that maybe building a relationship is actually pretty low down in your priorities, no matter what your words claim.

Online flirting

This one is for you social media butterflies - be it Tumblr / Instagram / ... Look, there is nothing wrong in sharing a couple beautiful pictures of yourself, or a few spicy posts from your favorite smut blogger. Its fun, its exciting - we get it. But if what you are putting out there are provocative pictures of yourself with tell-tale captions like "who wants to make me his toy" or "I need your hands around my throat", dont expect a good man to take you seriously. If all your feed does is send out an invitation for cheapness, that is exactly what you will be seen as - someone who will put out for just about anybody - and there is no reason to believe you arent playing this flirting game with 10 other boys in your inbox. There is nothing special about that, and a good man will not stay or stand for this.

Pettiness of Prettiness

Harsh as it might sound, today we have entered an era where an unfortunate number of women (even young girls) are being told that if you are pretty and attractive, you can have anything. Of course, there are plenty of boys who will simp over looks, which reinforces this sense of entitlement in young ladies, as well as makes it fun and validating. But, this is not the kind of behavior that attracts and keeps a good man. A pretty face and a beautiful physique is tantamount to having a crisp resume and a cover letter in fancy font for a job - it will get you an interview, but if you have nothing else to show beyond this, you will not get much further. Believe me when we say this, older successful men (in their 30s or 40s) are neither phased nor impressed by prettiness, it accounts for less than 10% of the reasons why we would actually choose someone to invest in.

In summary,

the catch of wanting to be with an emotionally mature, stable, good man is that you will also have to deserve to be with him. He is going to push you to upgarde your own standards and hold you accountable for your own actions to be worthy of that (potential) relationship. And if you dont have it in you, if you want the shortcut, a good man will not hestiate to move on with a kind & condescending word.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil, Jade: Wanting to Shine

Schoenheit mama lore 👁️ Mmm, somehow TWST keeps managing to impress me with just how diverse its families are. There are characters with bad relationships with their guardians, characters with good relationships with their guardians, and then… non-existent relationships altogether. Ruggie is one such example (since his mom died before he had the chance to know her), and now we have Vil as well… I wonder why he feels so impersonal toward his mother?? 🤔I hope we can find out more details someday.

Aaanyway, sorry that this is so late, I got super busy with irl things 😅 but happy belated birthday, Vil!! (xbjsvsjwnz Right as Ruggie’s Broomquet art was revealed too lol) ***WARNING: spoilers for episode 6 of the main story!!***

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What would you like to do this next year?”

Jade glanced up from his clipboard. “If the answer is to come from someone as tenacious as yourself, Vil-san… Your goals must be ambitious indeed.”

“Ara, is that so? Sharp, aren’t you?” Vil tucked a finger under his chin. “You would be correct in your assumption.”

“You’re but 18 years of age, and one age my senior—yet you’ve already accomplished a great many things, much of which the common man can only dream of. “Modeling for the top fashion brands, playing the lead roles in a number of feature films… Many, many accolades,” Jade chuckled, his voice dropping to a gentle purr. “What more do you hope to do?”

“My, you’ve got quite the grasp on my resume.” Vil’s brows pinched slightly. “However, you misunderstand one key point.”

“Oya? And what might that be?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vil laughed, tipping his head back with a smirk. “This is nowhere near the pinnacle of my career. No—there is much more that I will achieve.

“For starters, I wish to expand the scope of my presence on set. I’ve dabbled in directing and producing my own modest works through my Film Research Club, but there is still much more for me to learn. Before I graduate, I would like to leave my mark in that area.”

His lips pulled into a smile—small but proud and genuine. “At present, we are working on a short film. The plan is to submit it to a contest and to take home the grand prize.

“Everyone is putting forth their best effort to make that dream into reality." Vil's deep-set amethyst eyes twinkled with fire. "Life makes no promises, so we must seize our stories and write our own fates."

"Spoken like a true leader--how commendable. We underclassmen truly have a wonderful senpai to look up to."

Vil allowed his broom to lean into the crook of an elbow. "I'm no stranger to compliments, but I shudder to hear it coming from you. It's far more benign coming from Rook or Ortho."

"Ah, that reminds me. Ortho-san recently joined the Film Research Club, yes? How does he fare under your tutelage?"

“Need you even ask? Of course I've welcomed him with open arms. He is proving himself to be an excellent asset for our productions. There are many things that only Ortho is capable of doing, from special effects and audio to getting clear aerial shots.

"His acting has also improved considerably. A bit clumsy at first, but with time and observation he has quickly learned. It's impressive just how much Ortho's 'heart' comes through in his performances."

"Oya, such high praise. Idia-san must be a proud big brother."

"Indeed, Ortho is a star on set." Vil tossed his hair over a shoulder. He still smiled, but there was now a cold, lethal beauty edging his lips. "He's setting a high bar for the other spudlings--but I won't be outdone by him, nor by anyone else.

There was a hesitance, the soft sucking of breath through teeth, and then... "Do you recall when I returned from Styx? The state that I was in?"

"How could I forget? Why, you were so old and withered, we barely recognized you as the same glamorous Vil Schoenheit that graces magazine covers and TV screens. It was very memorable, fufufu."

"Stop that grinning before I smack that smirk right off of your face," Vil snapped. (Jade immediately obliged.) "As I was saying, that experience... it opened my eyes to a great number of realizations."

"Oh? You don't say."

Vil nodded. "It was like my life was flashing before my eyes. A full 18 years of memories and feelings colliding at once, and the chilling thought that I would soon be robbed of what little life I had remaining, my future stolen from me... It was terrifying.

"But you know what? I'm glad for having gone through it. Unpleasant as it was... I looked into that mirror and walked away with a glimpse of what lies far ahead for me--and I am here now, able to make the most of the present.

Vil lifted a hand, cupping the stars above in his fingers. "When I live, I want to shine. I want to put my best effort into every piece, every production, that I am a part of. With my name and face out to the public, I can reach more hearts, inspire more people. Then..."

He lowered his hand, fingers closed in a fist--as though he had fished a precious piece of starlight right out of the sky. Vil's lashes were heavy, fluttering like petals in the wind upon his cheeks.

"... That would most definitely carry on into the future. Not just into my future, but into the futures of all I have impacted through my acting. My spirit has become a part of them--and through the lives I have touched, my spirit is alive, and I will continue to shine. That is the power of art and media: it persists long after the creators are no longer with us."

“I see." Jade spoke delicately, as though he, too, were bewitched by the beauty before him.

Such raw, overwhelming charisma and determination. Such… power.

The eel suppressed his mirth.

“In that way, you would be leaving a piece of yourself with the organization. Long after you have graduated, your legacy will still live on in the Film Research Club and through your countless fans."

"You understand."

Vil held his interviewer's gaze. There was a solidarity to their silence, a knowingness, a mutual agreement, between the two. The night, its moon, and the stars, were their audience upon that shared stage.

"My 'beauty' will be eternal, no matter the age I am. I'm certain of it."

His declaration was loud and resolute against the night.

Above the duo, the hands of a grand clock tower turned, locking them--and Vil's promise--into place. Bells roared to life, ringing in a new hour with their deep, reverberating song.

Bing-bong, ding-dong! Ding-dong, bing-bong!

The time of reckoning had arrived.

"I believe that's my signal to exit stage left." Vil swept his broom in an elegant arc. Pink, violet, and maroon particles fell from the bouquet affixed to one end.

"Yes, we wouldn’t want you to keep your beloved fanbase waiting.” Jade took a step back and dipped into a bow. His eyes humbly lowered to the ground, he said, “I wish you safe travels—and the best of luck with your endeavors.”

“Hmph, just who do you take me for?” Vil planted himself on the handle of his broom. He folded his arms, assuming a haughty stance. “I don’t need luck, I’m confident in my own abilities to see my goal through to the very end.

“Now then… Be sure to sear this image into your memories. There won’t be many opportunities for you to witness me at the height of bloom.”

“As you wish.”

With that, Vil departed, his broom rising steadily before sailing off into the darkened sky. Poised, and as close to perfection as he could manage.

A wayward spring breeze tousled his flaxen locks. Silver moonlight wove itself into the gold of his hair, seeping into the cream of his skin.

Petals scattered around him, swarming the birthday boy in a storm of flowers. Vil caught one between his thumb and forefinger—a petal so rose-red it was like blood upon freshly fallen snow. He planted a tender kiss upon it before releasing it back to the wind.

The illuminated face of the clock tower cast him in a heavenly glow. His silhouette, sharp.

A beautiful promise for the future.

Jade smiled after him. Not warmly, but not coldly either.

I’ve learned many things about Vil-san today. Yes… many, many interesting things.

[lazysublimeengineer]

you are in love

Summary: And you knew what it was, he is in love.

Characters: Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness & Noel Noa

(A/N: Spoilers ahead. Please be mindful of the tags as I will not tolerate unnecessary complaints nor comments when sufficient tags and warnings are provided ahead of time. Some scenes of this fic are excerpts from the latest chapter of the manga hence the spoiler tags and warnings. I don’t own anything from this franchise. Respective ownership belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura for this wonderful manga and Taylor Swift for this lovely song in her 1989 TV album which is also inspired this one-shot fic of mine).

One look, dark room Meant just for you Time moved too fast You play it back Buttons on a coat Light-hearted joke No proof, not much But you saw enough

“Huh? Are you gonna drink your milk?” Ness asked as he stared at the untouched bottle of milk beside Kaiser’s tray.

The cafeteria was bustling with festive noises and chatter amongst the other players in the middle of their morning breakfast.

“I hate milk. I can’t stand any white-colored drinks.” Kaiser groused as he stuffed the food right into his mouth.

‘Seriously this guy...’ Ness thought wryly with a sigh leaving his lips. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed by his display of high maintenance attitude towards food.

“Well, then just give it to me if you don’t want it.” Ness replied.

“Huh? Why would I give this if it’s for me?” Kaiser asked dully as he arched a brow at him.

Ness’ brows twitched slightly. “We can’t waste food in here you dumbass. So, either you drink it or just give it to me if you don’t want it.” Ness grumbled out in annoyance.

“Don’t call me a dumbass you loser.” Kaiser scoffed lightly.

“And what makes you think it’s okay for you to call me a loser?” Ness shot back.

“It’s nice to see the two of you getting along quickly. Although I prefer if you cease your bickering in front of your breakfast.” Noa commented in a monotone voice as he stared at them blandly from behind while holding his tray of food.

“He’s got a different breed of humor and I like him.” Kaiser replied plainly as he handed him his bottle of milk.

Ness blinked a few times as he accepted it in silence.

What does that even mean?

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you You can feel it on the way home, way home, you You can see it with the lights out, lights out You are in love, true love You are in love

He was in the middle of cutting his hair when Kaiser’s voice caught his attention.

“Hey Ness. I was originally a mentally weak person.”

His words made him pause for a moment. “Huh?”

“I constantly gave up when I faced things, I believed to be impossible. That’s why to remind myself to never again fall into that weak mindset. I got a blue rose on my neck.” Kaiser stated as he stared plainly at himself into the mirror.

“I see...” Ness uttered as he resumed snipping at the end of his hair.

“A blue rose symbolizes the achievement of the impossible. Artificially created, its unique blue color was not initially seen in nature. An impossibility turned to reality. When I first saw a blue rose, I saw it as an example of turning the impossible into reality. I want to become someone who can’t be defined. A symbol of defiance. A sign of defying the natural order of things. The impossible.” Kaiser carried on their conversation with a blank yet resolute look on his face.

“That’s awesome...” Ness couldn’t help but to listen in awe and amazement at Kaiser’s ideals in life and how he was opening to him about his thoughts and the symbol of his blue rose tattoo in his life.

It made him genuinely happy.

For Kaiser to trust him not only in the field but outside of the field as well.

“I’ll win the champions league and the world cup. And then... I want to cast down the rest of the football world into despair.”

His words made Ness chuckle softly under his breath. “That sounds like you. There. How’s that?” He put the scissors down onto the table.

Kaiser inspected his newly cut hair in front of the mirror. “It’s fine. I just wanted to cut it short cuz it was getting in the way.”

Ness smiled softly at the sight.

He realized that he wanted to be beside Kaiser when he fulfills his dream in the future.

When the rose blooms into a beautiful shade of blue, he wanted to be there to witness it.

Kaiser’s dream became his dream as well.

Morning, his place Burnt toast, Sunday You keep his shirt He keeps his word And for once you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much, but it said enough You kiss on sidewalks You fight and you talk One night he wakes, strange look on his face Pauses, then says, "You're my best friend" And you knew what it was, he is in love

“Good morning... It’s still Sunday y’know? You can still sleep some more, and I’ll just wake you up again once breakfast is done.” Ness greeted Kaiser when he spotted him going inside his kitchen.

“Fuck. Feels like my head is going to split apart...” Kaiser grumbled as he reached for a glass of water and drank it.

Ness hummed softly in silence as he placed the French toasts in a plate and started to brew some coffee.

“What even happened yesterday?” Kaiser finally asked.

Ness paused for a moment before he resumed what he was doing.

“Well, you passed out in the monitoring room yesterday and we brought you here in my place after examining you in the infirmary over the weekend seeing that we were given a break as Noa advised.” Ness replied quietly. Kaiser couldn’t see his face as his back was turned on him, but he could only imagine the thinly veiled hint of concern and panic dancing in his eyes as he was clear as a book to his eyes when it came to his emotions.

“Huh? I overdid it again yesterday. But the good thing about it is that I already know of a way on how to defeat that clown Yoichi in the upcoming match against PxG.” A triumphant grin etched on his face at the thought alone.

“Of course, you are. I never doubted for a second that you will come up with something amazing Kaiser!” Ness finally faced him with a cheerful smile on his face as he started to walk past him.

It made Kaiser frown.

“Since I’m done doing cooking the breakfast we can start—.”

Ness stopped midway as Kaiser caught his wrist and spun him around.

“Is there a problem?” He asked quietly.

Ness swallowed thickly and tried to steady the erratic beat of his heart inside his chest.

“No there isn’t... Why would you—.”

“Bullshit Ness! I can see miles away your forced smile from here!” His voice rose before Kaiser tried to calm himself down.

Ness wavered slightly before looking away. “Does it even matter...?” He whispered faintly.

Kaiser looked bewildered for a moment. “About what...?”

He tried to push the feeling of loss and resentment but a look from Kaiser’s confounded expression brought it back and his buried emotions and unsaid words came spilling out from his lips.

“Why would you care about what I feel now huh? Aren’t you more focus on defeating Yoichi instead of noticing me and how I got worried yesterday when you fucking choke yourself in front of the monitor room?! I still believe in you... but fuck! When you passed out after delivering your speech of finally knowing on how to defeat Yoichi... I don’t know what to do... I just feel like I couldn’t breathe for a fucking second... I... I... I—.”

His words died on his throat when one of Kaiser’s hands reached out to his nape and pulled him closer towards his face to claim his lips in a deep kiss that created a havoc within himself.

Ness could only grip the lapels of his shirt for support and leverage as he felt weak on his knees, and he might collapse on the ground if he suddenly let go of Kaiser.

All he could do was to close his eyes and return his kiss fervently as if his remaining suppressed emotions came pouring out from that kiss alone.

One of Kaiser’s hands had slipped around his waist and pulled him closer towards his frame to remove the remaining gap between the two of them while the other one had cradled his head gently as he kissed him passionately.

“Please... Don’t do that again... I got worried...” He whimpered against his mouth as Ness couldn’t stop the stream of tears escaping his eyes.

“You really have a little faith in me that I’ll be done for with just a simple suffocation?” He murmured against his lips as his tongue licked on the roof of his mouth which made the other moan softly.

“No... It’s just that... I love you... that’s why...” The admission slipped past Ness’ lips before he could stop himself.

“I know Ness. I know...” Kaiser finally scooped him up on his arms and brought him upstairs towards his bedroom.

Ness didn’t even protest as he surrendered to the whispers of his heart and let his downfall within Kaiser’s arms happened, ensconced in the blanket of blinding ecstasy and pleasure throughout the day.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you You can feel it on the way home, way home, you You can see it with the lights out, lights out You are in love, true love

(A/N: Reviews are amusing so let me hear them from you).

[liminalpebble]

Blood in the Cut (Eddie Munson, One Shot)

MINORS DNI

A/N: Sorry y'all I've been going through some things so this is a big, fat, 4000 world, smutty cathartic scream of a one shot. Older Eddie Munson x POC she/her reader. Title is based on a song by K. Flay that's been bouncing around my head lately.

CW: Rough unprotected sex (consentual), violence (bar fight), racial slur towards reader from a bigot, allusions of past suicide attempt, mental illness, trauma, and wounds, blood play (sort of?)

Summary: For years now Eddie's put the traumatic year of 1986 behind him by living an uneventful life and running The Hideout. Now a gruff but good-hearted middle-aged Munson has hired you (a young lady with a sad past of your own) as a bartender. One night a brawl breaks out and you become collateral damage in the violence. Only then does the prickly Eddie open up all the way to comfort you.

Blood in the Cut

The place was a shithole, but goddamit, it had become your shithole. It was a godsend when you rolled into the little town of Hawkins. You felt crusty, cramped and drowsy from hours on the Greyhound, but you made it. 1000 miles from your hometown, from the overbearing family who branded you a failure early on for being born with the wrong genitalia but expected perfection nonetheless. 1000 miles from the psych ward you ended up in when the pressure became too much. You tried not to think about the past anymore. Scars are easy enough to cover with make up or long sleeves, and nobody cares about the career you broke yourself trying to get when you just wind up opening beer bottles and mopping floors for a living.

Well, Eddie cared, but he hid it well. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have given you a chance that day. You had walked right into his bar and gestured to the shabby “help wanted” sign, shyly offering him a dog-eared resume. He gave you a long, unnerving, inscrutable stare from those big dark eyes.

You fidgeted as he nonchalantly scanned the paper over the haze of his cigarette. As the silence became too awkward for you, you piped up. “Uh...sorry it's...um...crinkled. I didn't have anywhere to print new ones.”

His face cracked into an amused grin suddenly, and it shocked you how quickly the grizzled guy could go from intimidating to disarming once his dimples came out to play.

“You...um...you do realized that this isn't exactly a place requiring a resume, right?”, he said, a cocky, teasing tone to his lazy voice.

You finally let out an exhale, “Yeah...yeah. I mean. I figured. But I already had it with me so you know...It's a little quicker than chatting to tell you my credentials. And as you can probably already tell, small talk isn't something I'm great at.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully, “ Well, bartenders do have to chit chat a little generally, but you're in luck, because not many customers come around here to talk.” He gestured a lanky tattooed arm to the tattered, dark, dive bar, the drunks having their liquid breakfast, and the ramshackle stage, as if to sarcastically say, behold, my kingdom.

“But anyway...impressive degree. Ivy League shit. Guess you're a long way from home. So, if you don't mind me asking, what is a young bright-eyed bushy-tailed little scholar like you doing in a shit town like this?” As he asked, his perceptive eyes darted down to your long sleeves; a bit unexpected in the warm spring air. He had an idea of what your answer would be, and it softened his heart more than usual.

You shrugged. Any attempt at pretense just dissolved in his presence. This man possessed a perfect radar for bullshit. You could tell. And besides, you'd relinquished any pride you had left at the hospital. There was no face left to save. “Well...Mr...”

“Munson...and just call me Eddie. Everyone does,” he clarified, grinding his spent filter in the ashtray.

“Eddie...Well, Eddie, I'm $70,000 deep in student loan debt from this impressive and apparently useless degree, and another $10,000 as the cherry on top for landing in the psych ward because of how I almost killed myself making sure I got it. Or rather, I tried to save my parents from their sunk investment in me, because the co-signer doesn't have to repay loans when the borrower kicks the bucket...or so I've been told. I'm 1000 miles away from it because I can't deal with my family reminding me that I'm an expensive disappointment every day of my life. But mom still calls me to shame me about how much it cost them to keep me alive...so there's that. And uh...these are more words than I've spoken in the last 5 months to anyone...so...sorry if I'm rusty at saying anything nicely.

Finally, you took a breath. Eddie just stared for a moment (that same inscrutable evaluation), nodded pensively then stood up from the bar stool. He simply reached out a calloused hand full of rings to shake yours. With a little grin he said, “Welcome to The Hideout.”

And that was that. You were here for 40 hours and 5 days a week. You tried to get overtime but Eddie always refused to let you, explaining, “you're a recovering workaholic and I don't want a relapse on my hands.” He always said it matter-of-factly with a flat expression until he turned his head just slightly from you to relieve himself of the smirk crawling across his plush lips.

Working side-by-side with him so much meant you got to observe him. You got the idea that in his youth he was probably rebellious, squirrely and bombastic, but he was taciturn and guarded now. Something had clearly pummeled that youthful anarchy out of him. The thought of it broke your heart a little. These days he kept his head down and hid under that mop of wild brown-sugar-colored curls. When he slid by you in the small space of the bar you noticed the little silver coils running through the strands, here and there. Your boss was still squirrely though; always tapping his fingers or feet in time with the soundtrack. He always seemed primed to run.

When you got a chance to look at him (really look at him) you couldn't help but wonder if Eddie knew he was a damn fine-looking man. He lived above the bar, but never once had you seen him take anyone home with him, or leave with anyone. Running this place seemed to be his life. What a waste, you thought, considering that nobody got to see that beautiful, tattooed, body without any clothes.

On slow days you'd usually hang out quietly behind the bar; both reading, and occasionally breaking the silence to talk about your books, or about the music Eddie had chosen, or about art or movies or languages or history or science. He was a bright guy and you treasured those chances to flex your academic muscles. In fact, you wondered if he hired you just to have someone to talk to like this. Hawkins wasn't exactly crawling with intellectuals and forward thinkers. Most of the local truckers, factory workers, farmers, and deputies who stopped by the Hideout would narrow their eyes in suspicion or confusion when they clocked your dark hair and tan skin. If they seemed about to say something stupid, Eddie would always nip it in the bud, giving them a warning glare that told them in no uncertain terms, not to fuck with you. Eddie felt a slowly building swell of protective impulse for you. You seemed so young and small and soft, even thought he knew you were tougher than you seemed...in some ways, tougher than him.

Once, only once, did some pea-brained idiot dare to snap at you and call you a “camel jockey”. That was the day Eddie broke a beer bottle on the counter, pointed it to the guy's beefy neck and hauled him outside, muttering quietly that if he ever showed his face here again he would end up in an ambulance. After that, word spread quickly that no one talked shit about Eddie's mysterious new bartender if they valued their lives. That was the day you began to realize you were becoming truly smitten with this man; his humble decency and thoughtful nature and even the pain behind those big brown eyes...but...he was your boss. So you weeded the idea out as soon as it began to sprout. You settled on simply saying, “Thank you,” and giving a relieved exhale.

He nodded and said, “Don't mention it. Fucking idiots. My friend Lucas and his family had the same problems. It wasn't easy for them, being the only black family in this hick town. Jesus Christ. I hoped it had gotten a lot better than this. That's a shame...they should be ashamed. Shit. I'm ashamed!” You chuckled and assured him he had nothing to be ashamed of, but he was embarrassed by proxy anyway. It was so scorching hot when he defended you like that, getting rough around the edges with righteous anger and a willingness to fight dirty. It didn't make the crush any easier to kill.

Much like dandelions, crushes have a way of popping back up, but you stayed removed and kept your interpersonal walls at a height matching his, though you would occasionally enjoy a chat from open windows in warm lamplight. You really treasured those chats and glimpses, when both of you reached out carefully from your barricades. You couldn't know that Eddie lived for those moments just as much. He'd been alone for so long, and now this fascinating young lady walked right through his door like a godsend. He was grateful for this friendship, and he would never dare to hope for it to become more. What use would an incredible young lady like you have for grumpy old Eddie Munson?, he thought.

-------

It was a Saturday night, rowdy as hell. Some shitty local band had just closed their set and packed their van, and the audience was worked up. You and Eddie and taken turns hauling keg after keg of cheap beer from the basement as they were swiftly emptied. It was an annoying crowd, but Eddie was proud of how well you kept up and you were happy for how well business was booming for him tonight.

You two were in the homestretch, but your nerves were fraying after a long night of drunken idiots. Eddie put a little ditty on the sound system called “The Closing Time Song” with the charming refrain of “get the fuck out” as he did every night to playfully alert the clients that it was time to leave. Everyone was gone aside from two knuckleheads who began screaming at each other for no apparent reason while you had begun sweeping.

You both knew the drill for this; get them outside to mitigate property damage and make their little scuffle the concern of Hawkins' finest rather than yours. Eddie was afraid to let you handle this at first, but after a few times he realized you're a lot stronger and tougher than you looked. At this point you manhandled jerks out the door with ease as often as he did. You huffed and set your broom aside. Eddie was in the back counting out the till, so you stepped up, walking swiftly towards them, grateful that it was still just verbal.

As you moved to shove the big galoots out the door, they suddenly began throwing punches, not seeing you underfoot, you got an elbow and a smack right in the face. You yelled every expletive in every language you knew as you kicked them out the door and slammed it shut, locking it behind behind them. As you turned around and strode back to the bar, you realized the noise had summoned Eddie from the back. He looked at you wide-eyed and concerned.

Through the buzz of adrenaline you didn't realize how badly you were hurt until you held your sleeve to your face and it came away soaked with blood. “Fuck,” you hissed, grabbing a bar rag and holding it to your face. Suddenly, you felt like crying. You hadn't been able to cry in months, even though you wished you could let it out. It was like the physical hit, the blood, the adrenaline, the anger, unraveled the dissociation choke-holding your emotions. You were horrified and decided Eddie would not see you cry. He'd mostly seen you being smart and tough and you'd be damned if you let him see you weep like a child.

You muttered, “I'll gonna go clean this up and grab another vodka for the speed rack. I'll be right back.” You heard him call your name after you as you flew down the hallway and down into the basement storage room. You closed the door behind you, found the janitor sink between the stock shelves. You bled and sobbed into the stained square basin, wondering what the fuck your life had come to. You prayed to a god you didn't believe in that Eddie would keep his distance. When the minutes passed without interruption, you heaved a sigh of relief, bending more deeply at the waist and resting your arms on the ledge.

You didn't hear him coming. All you saw was big hand holding out a clean bar towel neatly wrapped around ice cubes as he said in a quiet deadpan, “We don't need another vodka in the speed rack.”

“Thanks,” you huffed, wiping away the tears and blood with the old towel then pressing the ice pack to your face.

Deflect. You thought, picking up one of the bottles of Ketel One and grimacing to your boss. “Well, really, nobody need this shit, Eddie. Jesus, can't even spring for one that doesn't come in a plastic bottle?”

Eddie shrugged. He was standing with his arms crossed, leaning beside the sink. “We obviously don't have the most discerning clientele. Come here. You're doing that wrong,” he snipped, pulling out two folding chairs to face each other and ordering, “Sit. Lean forward, not back. And let me check it.”

You gingerly took the pack off of your face and he touched it, feather-lightly, to inspect it. “Huh, well, it doesn't seem broken. Just a hell of a nosebleed and probably a nasty bruise for a few days.”

You nodded, returning the pack to your aching skin. “Sounds like your know your way around getting hit in the face.”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a chuckle as he prepped another fresh towel for you. “I was bully target number 1 most of my youth. 'Hunt the freak,' they called it. My punishment for being a weird loud ugly little gremlin who played DnD.”

You shook your head, too rattled to watch your words “Idiots. Ugly little gremlin! What the fuck. Eddie, you're gorgeous. Don't pretend you don't know that.”

Eddie smiled wider than you'd ever seen him smile. His cheeks turned bright pink. His dark eyes sparkled. “What? Do you have a concussion or something?”

Oh god. I shouldn't have said that...uh deflect. “Well shit...I hope not. My insurance is shit.”

“Hey!” Eddie whined in mock-offense, “it's the same insurance I have.”

“Yeah, and I can't help but notice you never go to the doctor either.”

They both chuckled awkwardly, and an even more pregnant silence settled until Eddie said, “you know, you're lucky. When I would cry after being beat up, you could see it all over my face, my eyes would be red and puffy and my face and neck would be all red like I just ran a marathon. You don't even look like you've been crying.”

You shrugged, “One up-side of darker skin...I don't get red. Blushing, bruises, crying...scars...none of it shows up as much. I can hide my feelings pretty well.”

Eddie gazed at you, eyes full of bittersweet compassion. “I wish you wouldn't though.” He reached his hands out to yours.

You looked down and noticed your sleeves were pushed up from your attempt to clean up the blood. Now the ruddy splotches decorated your arms and cuffs, and beneath them, the scars on your wrist were clearly exposed in the florescent lights. You rushed to pull the sleeves over your scars, but Eddies calloused fingers stopped you, as he ran them gently up and down the slightly darker, rougher skin running up your forearms. “Please. Please don't hide it. Not with me at least. I know the story, after all, and I don't judge you.”

Deflect. God, his face is so close. His pretty pretty face. “Ah...well...you can judge me for being an idiot tonight.”

Eddie averted his eyes, sat back and then stood up. He was hoping for a more intimate moment, but you just made it clear that he shouldn't, so he played along. “Yeah....totally. What the fuck were you thinking, huh?...All 5'2 of you gonna take on a couple of meat slabs like that?”

“Hey I'm 5'4, and don't tease me about being short. The hobbits saved Middle Earth, remember?”

He turned so suddenly that you almost ran directly into his chest and you dropped the ice pack. He caught it between you. You, once again, found you were close...so very close.

You forced out a chuckle, “Nice reflexes.”

He shrugged and said absentmindedly, “well...you know...guitarist.” But he hardly knew what he was saying. He was staring at your lips.

“Yeah,” you sighed out then pointed to the ice pack. “ I don't think I need that now. The bleeding stopped.”

Eddie said quietly, “Okay, just let me check.” He gently held your face in his hands again, looking around it for any cuts or swelling. There were a few small splotches, but none serious. Before long he realized he was no longer noticing the wounds, too wrapped up in the feeling of his hands cradling your soft tawny skin as his fingertips fanned teasingly into your dark hair. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing, as he tentatively stroked down the side of your face. “Does...does it hurt there?”

“No,” you said in a whisper.

“What about here?” he asked, quietly brushing hair from your temples.

“No,” you repeated.

His pointer finger ran lightly over the curve of your lips. The bottom one had a tiny cut where your teeth had grazed it. His eyes followed his finger as he asked even more quietly, “What about here?”. He took a step closer.

“No,” you repeated, mirroring his step in with your own.

“Good,” he said as he leaned in, closing the distance. Eddie kissed you with those plush delicious lips you wanted to taste for so long. He was shy at first, still cradling your face like you were made of fine china, but when you opened your mouth inviting him in, he pushed harder into you, smelling and tasting the coppery blood on your skin. Eddie's warm wet tongue met yours and explored, thirsty for you. When you pulled away you bit lightly on his lower lip before releasing him and he groaned in delight.

You looked up to meet his big sweet eyes with yours. With desperation in your voice, you confessed, “Eddie...I want you to touch me. I want it to hurt. I want to cry. I just want to feel something...let something, anything out.”

Eddie was breathing deeply. He was already growing hard and hot against you. Groaning, he said, “God, sweetheart, you don't know what you're asking for. Fuck...I want it. I want you.”

“Fight me,” you growled. And he grunted back as he lifted you onto a shelf, slotting his skinny hips between your plush thighs. He grabbed one of your wrists and licked up your inner forearm where your old scars and new blood mingled together under his hot, wet, tongue. You'd never let anyone touch you there before, and it was so intimate, so arousing, it made you limp in his arms. If this was a fight, he was already winning, and you couldn't have that.

You gripped your greedy hands into those gorgeous curls and tugged to see how he liked it. Judging by how loudly he groaned and the way his thick erection twitched against his jeans, he loved it.

You giggled. “Oh Eddie, you moan like a whore.”

He muttered, “Come on, you love it.” from where his mouth was now latched to your jugular vein, no doubt raising blossoms of blood under the tender skin. His harsh sucking and the light scratch of his teeth set off dynamite in your bloodstream

You whimpered and confessed, “Mmmm! I do. I fucking love it.”

He gripped your ass and growled into your ear, “Open wider for me, sweetheart...atta girl”. You obeyed. His arm snaked around you waist as he pulled you tight against his chest. He rubbed the cleft of your cunt over the seam of your jeans. You whimpered and melted, head lolling on his shoulder as you panted.

“These gotta go,” he said, hooking his fingers in your belt loops and grazing the button of your fly. “That okay, honey?”

You begged, “Yes...yes, Eddie. Jesus fucking Christ, yes. Do whatever you want with me.”

Eddie let out a surprised breathy chuckle and you felt it reverberate against you. “Fuck, baby, now who's moaning like a whore?” he teased, with a shit-eating grin.

You had no words, you were too rapt watching his clever hands easily undo your pants; hastily tearing away anything keeping his mouth from immediately tasting your pussy.

You shrieked at the sensation of his long tongue dancing around your wet velvety folds. After a few unhurried laps he came up for air with a gasp of awe. “God, you have the prettiest pussy,” he said, slowly teasing his fingertips along where your brown skin became a deeper, more saturated hue, like the center of a flower; rich and lovely and soft, like fine dark silk. Eddie slid a finger on either side of your clit, pinching and coaxing the little jewel to the surface. The rough callous against your most sensitive skin scratched a little, hurt a little, and the ache felt so good. He stared at where his fingers moved as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, then continued worshiping at it, like a shrine, saying his devoted prayers in mumbles as he consumed.

He sucked your clit, nestling it between his full lips, while two rough fingers moved in and out of you. You panted as he found a rhythm, demanding, “More....more please. Harder...”

Suddenly he withdrew his fingers and watched your confusion with amusement. He stared menacingly and stepped back, making a show of taking off his layers. His chains clattered against the concrete floor as he stripped for you until he was completely naked; unguarded. Despite the confident posture, his puppy eyes pleaded for approval in his vulnerability, and you were only too happy to give it to him.

You gasped out, “Jesus Eddie, you're incredible...you're so pretty. I've wanted you like this for so long.”

He came closer again and pressed an unexpectedly gentle kiss to your temple as his hands worked at your shirt and bra. He noticed your hands shaking; how nervous you were to be bare with him.

He kissed you under your ear then whispered into it. “I know you're scared, sweetheart, but you don't need to be. I want to see all of you. Let me see all of you, huh? You're so pretty.”

He stroked your now-bare shoulder. Eddie loved the hue of his pale skin against yours, the different flesh tones winding together, perfectly complimenting...meant to be.

You bit Eddie's earlobe and buried your greedy hand into his hair as you said, “I need it rough, Eddie, please. Don't be gentle.”

“Anything you want, baby. Anything,” he groaned out as he pushed into you, in one hard thrust.

Your breath caught for a moment as the ache volleyed through your body. You felt yourself crack open..shatter, finally shatter, finally release. You felt hot tears and hot arousal pulse through you in a cascade. Eddie met your eyes, concerned.

You nodded and smiled through the blood and tears “I'm fine. Eddie, I'm fine. I need this. I love this.”

Eddie loved it too. He felt a little guilty about how much he loved it, but that just made him even harder. He felt like a hungry animal gorging himself on your sweet broken body, licking at your tears and cuts as your tangled weight hit the shelf again and again. The clanging tempo built until you both came in a crescendo of shuttering, gripping, biting and grunting.

As you both caught your breath, slumped against each other, Eddie rubbed sweet little circles on your back and kissed your forehead. He pulled out gently and his eyes grew wide with shock and fear as he noticed blood mingled with his cum and your wetness.

He gasped in surprise and concern, “Oh, sweetheart...fuck...I...I didn't know or I would have been more careful with you....would...would have made it special. Shit..I...I'm so sorry.”

You grabbed his face, smiling broadly, drunk with afterglow and shaking your head, “Shhh shhh. No, no please don't apologize. I wanted it like this. Needed it like this. I had to let it all out. Thank you, Eddie....thank you.

You nuzzled into his chest and he held you tightly, kissing the top of your head protectively. He said quietly, “Okay, honey. But for now, we're gonna go upstairs and take a nice hot bath and curl up in bed together...that alright with you? I...I liked it like that too, but I want to take care of you after something like that. No hiding, got it?”

“Yeah...yeah I got it.”

“Good,” he said, smiling and kissing you. You noticed you'd left a little collection of bruises on Eddie, just as he left some wounds on you. Noticing your worried look, he held your face and met your eyes with a satisfied smile. “Hey...don't worry. I loved it. Now let's go play hospital.”

@hellfirenacht @fairyysoup @take-everything-you-can @sweetsigyn @elegantkoalapaper @veemoon @slutty-thevampireslayer @little-wormwood @leelei1980 @ladyofthestayingpower

[mimilind]

Stranger of the Falls - Part 4

Pairing: Boromir x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 2400

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

※※※

4. Convalescence

From then on, Lord Främling steadily improved. It was as if when he agreed not to starve himself, he also decided to get well as soon as possible. Already the next day he was sitting up, propped against a pillow, and spent every waking moment exercising his legs, arms, hands and fingers, stretching and lifting them without respite, forcing the unwilling limbs to cooperate. Especially his weaker side. 

One of the first things he wanted to do, apart from eating without being spoon fed, was to get rid of the bedpan and use a cane to limp to the outhouse. The first time he nearly fainted, and when you had to help him back he looked so mortified you thought he was going to hide under the blanket in shame.

But he did not, insead he resumed his exercises with renewed frenzy.

The arrow wounds began to heal, and so did the gash in his forehead. It would leave a scar, but his long hair covered most of it. 

His left side was soon almost back to normal mobility and strength, but his right side was far behind. He explained it felt like he was a baby learning to walk for the first time, as if his right limbs had forgotten how to do things.

His speech became clear and he no longer slurred on the words, but he still did not say much. You thought that he probably had been a quiet person even before the accident.

Instead of talking he worked out, limped around the room, did pushups, practiced fine motor skills. He mended his shirt and tunic, painstakingly sewing neat hems and pulling up the thread to start over whenever he wasn’t satisfied.

When he was done you could hardly see where the rift had been.

The pure doggedness he demonstrated was both impressive and a bit frightening. Was he in such a hurry to heal because he wanted to be released from your care so he could end his life? You wanted to ask him, but did not know how to bring it up.

Your house was too small for an extra bed, so he still shared yours. At least it was wide and comfortable, and it was easy to get used to the added warmth of an extra person. Though spring was on its way, nights were still cold.

One night you decided to be blunt and just ask what was on your mind, using humor to make it seem less serious. “So… It is true we agreed that as soon as you are healed, you are free to choose death, but how will you go about it?”

Unsurprisingly he appeared a bit baffled over your choice of topic. “Pardon?” 

“Will you fall on a sword, perhaps? It could be just like Túrin in the legend…”

“Too untidy. Very rude to whomever found my corpse.”

You smiled, relieved that he had replied, and in the same flippant tone. “I forget what a gentleman you are.” 

“Also, I have no sword.” You could almost hear the silent ‘…anymore’ he left out.

“Can you swim?”

“Yes.”

“That is unfortunate. You could have leapt into the river. Hm… Maybe charge headfirst into a band of orcs?”

“I already tried that.” He no longer sounded amused.

You drew a sharp breath. Was that how it all happened? “You tried to kill yourself that time? You paddled your boat to a group of orcs and then ran it down the falls because you wanted to die?”

“No,” he snapped. “Absolutely not! I tried to save… someone.” The anger ran off him and he sounded very tired. “I failed.”

“I am sorry. I should not have brought it up.” You put a soothing hand on his shoulder. 

He stiffened at first, but then relaxed, allowing you to softly stroke him over his shirt. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” you asked.

“No.”

“Oh. Well then, let us return to the previous topic. You could… go to Mordor and challenge the Dark Lord? I am certain it would get you slayed swiftly and efficiently.”

“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” he mumbled, but you could hear he was smiling.

“I am aware. That is the idea: you try and fail and hence you die.”

He put his hand over yours and gave it a light squeeze. “Truly, I understand and appreciate what you are trying to do,” he said softly. “But it is pointless.”

You felt a strange fluttering in the pit of your stomach. His hand was much bigger than yours and felt strong.

“I am not doing anything,” you replied a bit breathlessly.

“You endeavor to talk me out of it.”

The flutter vanished, replaced with a sinking feeling. “Well, I suppose I am,” you admitted. Your voice became pleading. “Please stay.”

“Why?”

Because I like you, you thought, but of course you could not say that. “I just feel this world is already so full of monsters and evildoers. We need good men like you for balance.”

“I am not good.” He removed his hand. You felt cold where it had been.

“I think you are.”

“You do not know me.”

“I feel like I do.”

He did not reply, just turned his back on you and was silent.

※

As if your talk of Mordor had brought the war closer, the next day dire news reached you – old news, which was often the case this far east. Théoden King’s only son and heir had been killed, caught in a trap by the river Isen in the west. Saruman of Isengard was said to have been behind it, but the king had avenged his son and defeated the wizard’s army at Helm’s Deep, and later turned Isengard into ruins.

Now there was to be a great muster of riders. All able men were to gather at Dunharrow for further instructions.

The news affected your patient in a strange way. When the young men left the village he became increasingly more restless. He would take walks around it, limping surprisingly fast, and often stopped to look at the sullen crimson tint on the clouded sky that marked the border to Mordor, his fists helplessly opening and clenching.

As if he wanted to join the riders and lamented that he was still not able to do so.

He slept fitfully, and one night he woke you up with a strangled cry.

“Dark dream?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“Will you share it?”

“No.”

“Please, I am curious.” 

He was silent briefly, then turned toward you. You felt his thigh press lightly against yours and stopped breathing. You hoped he wouldn’t pull it back.

He did not.

“I dreamt I had a mighty weapon. A magical weapon that was the most powerful in the world. I became invincible. I used it to defeat Mordor. Sauron. All his underlings. Everybody fell before me… I slayed them effortlessly.”

“That does not sound like a nightmare.”

“It was.” He took your hand and put it over his chest. You felt how hard his heart was beating. “For, after I won… I sat myself on his throne and everyone bowed to me, did my bidding. On my orders people were either killed or enslaved. I took his place. I became him.” He drew a shaky breath. “It was appalling.”

For once, you lacked words. He had never shared anything even remotely personal with you before. And he was so close, the moment so intimate. His hand over yours felt burning hot.

Your heart was beating faster too now, but for a very different reason.

“I am not like that,” he continued. ”I never sought such power – or any power. All I ever wanted was for my people to be safe. My friends. My family. My home where I grew up.” His voice cracked and he drew a few breaths. “But I failed. How can I continue living when I am so weak? A failure, easily led astray by… my lack of restraint.”

“You are not weak! How can you even think that? I have never seen anyone with your strength. You were almost completely paralyzed only weeks ago and now you are up and walking, regaining more function every day. And as for restraint, you nearly starved yourself out of pure obstinacy. It was impressive. Foolish, but impressive.” You forced yourself to sound calm. Most of all you wanted to hug him but you did not know if he would appreciate that.

Besides, it would be highly inappropriate.

“That had nothing to do with strength. I merely realized everything was lost and I might as well–” He sighed. “What will happen if Mordor prevails? To my home… to a peaceful village like this? To you? What would you do?” 

His skin was warm and soft under your hand. His heart had slowed down into a steady beat.

The feeling made it hard to think. “I… I do not think Mordor will gain victory, but if so, I reckon I would… continue healing people, carry on with my life? Perhaps join a rebel force.”

“You sound very calm about it.”

“Well, why burden yourself with speculations about the future? Neither of us knows what it will be like.”

He did not reply to that. 

“Thank you,” he said at last. He was still pressing your palm against his heart, now he slid his thumb over your hand, back and forth in a gentle caress.

“You are welcome. But… but for what?” 

“For being there. Listening to my midnight ramblings.”

His touch filled you with butterflies. You wished you knew what he meant with it, if it was just his way to say thank you – or something more. 

“Do not kill yourself,” you blurted. ”Even though you can, please… do not.”

His thumb stilled. “I will not.” 

Relief filled you like a tidal wave. You were certain Främling was a man of his word; had he said he would continue living then he would do so.

He released your hand and turned away. Only partly. His thigh still touched yours. “Good night.”

But you could not sleep, not after that. Your palm tingled where it had been resting on his chest, and you still felt the ghost of his thumb on top of it. He would live. Your work had not been in vain.

※

You were a bit awkward around Främling the morning after his nightmare, but he did not mention it and acted normal, as if nothing special had happened. You didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed over that.

In the afternoon, more news reached you. A band of unusually big and strong orcs that had been sighted running across the plains a while back. You guessed it must have been them the shepherdesses saw the night before you found Främling, and you wondered if it was they who nearly killed him.

All talk of war made everyone nervous and careful. The village was badly protected with only Vidar left to guard the palisade gate, and a few other old men to protect the rest of it. All younger men had rode to join the king. The shepherdesses kept their herds within sight of home, ready to run back to safety at short notice, and the farmers hesitated to begin plowing the fields.

When Främling heard the news, he expanded his exercise and began doing weapon routines, using a long stick for a sword. He held it in his left hand and supported himself on a cane, yet managed to appear strong and fearful. You wouldn’t want to meet him in battle.

The next day he went out after breakfast, and when he returned a couple of hours later he told you he had bought Svarten, Vidar’s malicious black, and a rusty sword that looked to be about the same age as Rohan itself.

“You did what?” you asked incredulously. “Why?”

“I needed a weapon and a horse.”

“What for?” 

In the brief, frightening moment before he replied you thought it was so he could ride away. Leave you.

“To fight. I am too slow on foot. When the war is upon us, you require more men to protect the village. After your kindness to me, it is the least I can do.”

His words frightened you almost as much as the thought of him leaving. He had said ’when’ as if it was a certainty the war would come. 

“You are not yet strong enough.”

He frowned. “You need not remind me of that. But even in this state I can best a few orcs, particularly on horseback. I am fairly decent with my left hand too now.” He speculatively flexed his fingers.

“They will not come this far. There are no hiding places out in the plains and they are afraid of sunlight,” you reminded him.

“Not all orcs,” he said bitterly.

The rest of the morning he spent sharpening and polishing the old sword until it shone. Then he commenced to train Svarten with the same stubborn grit that had driven him for as long as you had known him. Aided by young Kalle, he mounted the vicious animal and rode him around a small paddock, round and round and round until the stallion was so exhausted he did not even have the energy to bite his rider when he dismounted at last.

“How did you pay for it?” you asked when he returned to you, weary and sweaty and ravenously hungry.

“I gave him my belt.”

“You what? But it must be worth a fortune! Yet you only obtained a mangy, evil horse and a rusty sword! That damn, greedy old–”

A very unusual sound interrupted your indignant speech. Främling was laughing heartily. 

“War draws near and all you can think of is whether I paid too much for my horse?” He was still chuckling.

His rumbling laughter and warm smile melted your heart into a puddle. His smile was slightly lopsided from the accident, and you adored it. You wanted to tell him he should laugh more often, for he had the most wonderful laugh, but he was right, these were bleak times. When the war came, all smiles would wane and all laughter silence.

His face grew serious. “I will protect you as best I can,” he promised.

That night you were afraid of the future for the first time and you crept closer to him, letting his strong, large form comfort you. 

As if he understood how you felt he put an arm around you, just holding you. 

When you woke up he had not removed his arm.

※※※

A/N:

The golden belt mentioned in this chapter was a gift the stranger had previously received from a certain elf Lady in Lothlórien (book canon).

※※※

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[copingbrainrot]

𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝘽𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡

Chapter 1: Hello Richmond

Summary: Embarking on a new job as a Richmond PT, you’ve experienced an interesting reunion with an old friend, as well as welcoming new faces and new beginnings.

Canon Rewrite starting from s2. Eventual Ted Lasso x Reader, but we will be focusing on friendships for now :))

Warnings: Swearing, no y/n usage

Word count: 2k

***

Funny how the universe works sometimes, coincidences that accumulate, points of entwining fates in the web of life. It’s a fascinating and scary notion to experience. Case in point, Doctor Sharon Fieldstone is standing beside you in the Office of the Richmond Head Coach for introductions. Who would’ve thought that the job you accepted at London would reunite you with your ex-therapist after years? 

She has not changed since the last time you saw her. 

“I just wanted to introduce you to Dr. Sharon Fieldstone. She’s going to be looking after Dani. And here’s Ms. Reader. She’s the new PT, replacing Dr. Salsbury after that incident.” Wincing, Leslie Higgins introduced you to the group. Despite the curiosity, you don’t dare ask what exactly happened. 

“This is Nathan, Coach Beard, and Ted Lasso.”

You looked around the group of men, familiarizing their faces. Notably, you observed Nathan's bashful wave, Coach Beard's pensive and analytical gaze, and the amiable expression on the mustachioed face of Ted Lasso, the head coach whose demeanor exuded warmth and friendliness. You see him stand.

“Oh, you don’t need to stand,” Fieldstone protests.

“But it makes it a lot easier to do this.” 

The head coach of Richmond is twirling in circles, singing a spontaneous song as a unique way of welcoming you. The other two men enthusiastically join their boss with improvised vocals and thumps, in a display, which is, honestly, quite impressive.

“Consider this song our way to greet you. Hey!” The three shouted.

A beat passed. 

“So I understand that Dani has developed a case of the yips?” You laugh internally as Dr. Sharon just ignored their antics.

“Hey!” The three physically winced loudly.

“Okay, that’s two weird things in a row. What’s going on?” 

Failing to suppress your laugh, you covered your mouth, prompting all of them to direct their attention toward you.

"Apologies, had a little something in my throat," you interjected, feigning a cough for added effect. "Please, go on," you continued, waving your hand in a gesture to encourage them to resume.

“Well, Doc, we don’t like using that word around here,” Coach Lasso says.

“Why?” 

Hesitancy is seen in the head coach as he glanced around at his co-workers to try, silently urging one of them to take charge of the conversation.

“Uhm… How do I? Why y’all looking at me? He’s the one who knows everyth—” pointing at Coach Beard, “Oh okay, all right. Well, Doc–”

“Doctor.” Doctor Sharon interjected. 

"Right, yes, of course. Sorry. Doctor, it’s a superstition?" he concluded the sentence with a hint of uncertainty.

The therapist nodded in understanding, as if to say here we go again. “I see. Well, the yips…”

You find it amusing to witness grown men react so strongly to the word "yips," and can't help but laugh internally that you've seen it happen three times in the last five minutes.

“... are not a superstition. They are a mental condition, one that can be fixed with discipline, not denial.” 

“So, then, you’re pretty confident that you can help us out with Dani?”

What a strange thing to ask, Coach Lasso. Is he doubting her capabilities as a therapist? It's akin to asking, "How can you be certain that you’ll be making a difference?"

“Are you good at your job?” It seemed Doctor Sharon also had the same interpretation. The tension in the room was palpable. The tension in the room became palpable as the coach glanced around, uncertain if the question was a bait to demonstrate his competence or an expression of arrogance.

“Don’t worry about them. Put all bullshit humility aside and be honest with me. Are you good at your job? Yes or no?” The sharp-tongued Doctor Sharon strikes again. She had always been efficient, swift to discern the underlying causes of people's issues. It’s fascinating to see. You’ve missed your old friend… while it may be unprofessional to view her as a close confidante given your previous client relationship, she played a significant role in your mental journey, especially in years past. You always regretted not keeping in contact with her after she left. And, now that you have the chance, you yearn to be more than just her former client and co-worker – you want to be her friend.

Coach Lasso finally replied, “Yes.”

“I believe you. Well, as good as you are at your job, I’m twice as good at mine.” All are shocked at her words and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling under your breath at their faces. 

A beat passed.

In unison, the men chimed in with expressions of gratitude, "We're very lucky to have you," "Thank you very much," "That's good to know," and "Thank you for coming here" were all spoken in a synchronized display of thanks. 

“Right, so where should I be conducting my sessions?” 

You finally cracked and laughed aloud. All eyes on you. It was the first time you’ve met eyes with Doc Sharon, looking at you strangely. “I– I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help it. That was rude of me. But seeing as we are all now acquainted with each other, I will have to step out to go begin talking with the players, if you all don’t mind.”

“Oh sure. Yes, yes. Nice meeting you, Doc Reader.” Coach Lasso was first to react.

Waving, you remembered leaving the office with a tiny smile thinking, “They seem fun.”

***

Having just completed interviews with the first half of the team for your preliminary checks, you decided to grab some lunch. On your way to the dining facility, you spotted Doc Sharon walking.

"Hey Doc, you still don’t take shit from anybody. Just as fun as I remember," you said with a grin, attempting to engage in conversation with your former co-worker. Your intention was to glean some comments on the morning’s events. Seems like a safe topic to start with.

"Please refrain from addressing me so casually in the workplace. It's unprofessional," her tone was cold. You were taken aback by her sentence. 

"I’m sorry, Doc Sharon, I—" you started, only to be abruptly interrupted.

"It's Doctor."

"Doctor Sharon, I was just thinking that because we’ve shared the same workplace for a few years, I assumed we'd built a rapport. Why the sudden hostility?" you asked, attempting to understand the shift in her demeanor. 

"I prefer maintaining a clear boundary between my professional and personal life." 

That does not explain the hostility. But you tried to give it one more chance. 

Tone soft, you attempted to invite her to chat, "Alright. I just thought we could catch up a bit after work." 

"There’s no need for that, Reader. Although, I appreciate your offer. If you'd excuse me, I have some work to attend to," she curtly responded, signaling the end of the conversation.

What the actual fuck was that?

***

After completing the update for the player database, filled with your comments suggesting potential modifications to their training regime, your initial plan was to head home. You’ve decided to put your conversation with Doctor Sharon on the back burner, for now. The first priority is the job. 

Mr. Higgins had introduced you to the entire medical team before extending introductions to the higher-ups and coaches. Everyone was welcoming, and it was remarkable how quickly you had grown comfortable in the space within a day—comfortable enough to confidently ask questions about their systems and set-up shop in one of the offices. 

Your thoughts drifted back to a conversation with the players earlier, prompting you to take a detour. You rapped on the door, finding Coach Lasso alone in his office.

“Hey Coach, Sam told me you were rear-ended by a football this week. Mind popping back to the treatment room real quick so I can take a look?”

“Oh, no need for that, Doc. I wouldn’t want to make a fuss.” You scowled internally with his reaction.  

You dislike it when people deny care when injured. They do have their reasons, but in your years of service, it’s better to have injuries checked out especially as athletes, no matter how minor. People are entitled to healthcare and to deny it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You were hired exactly for this reason, for god’s sake. 

"Well, I believe it wouldn't set a great example for the players if their own head coach refuses medical care when injured, wouldn't you agree?"

Stilling, he looked at you like a deer in headlights. You have half a mind to stop yourself from chuckling. After a brief pause, he slowly nodded and admitted, "You got me there, Doc. My bad. Yeah, okay. I'm free now if that works for you?"

At the treatment room, he was lying face down on one of the beds while you took a look at his lower back and saw nasty bruising, prodding softly to gauge how much pain it registers on the coach. 

"So, how's the new gig treating you?" Coach inquired, seemingly steering the conversation to cut through the lingering awkwardness. You can handle conversation. 

“I think it’s going well. I had a chance to meet with the boys earlier– how’s the pain here? – conducted their preliminary checks, and had the chance to talk to them. They’re all quite polite.” You reply, moving to a different region on his sizable bruise. Coach Lasso let out a tiny sigh.

“"Hmm... still tender there– That’s good to hear. Some days, them lot are wilder than cattle escaped but they’re good kids. If you need any help rounding them up, you can count on me.”

Chucking, you replied, “I'll definitely take you up on that offer sometime, Coach. I’m looking forward to working with all of them — You can sit up now if it’s not too painful — Doctor Sharon should be able to assist with that too. I heard what happened to Dani and the dog, Earl? It’s a tragic thing to happen.”

After a brief pause, you rummaged through the storage to get an ice pack.

“Yes, we’ll do anything to bring Dani back to his chipper self.," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of strain and uncertainty. Curious of his reactions and his question from earlier, you decided to probe further.

“Do you think she can’t do it?” Coach Lasso's response was quick to deny it, exclaiming a series of "nos" with growing intensity. "No, no, no. Nothing like that. I just—I just wish I knew how to help Dani as well."

Despite Doctor Sharon’s demeanor in your interaction, you've never harbored any doubt on her abilities. She is an incredible therapist, one who truly cares for her patients and genuinely invested in their well-being. And you know it better than anyone, as you've sat on the other side of the table as one of her patients.

"Well, if there's anyone who can handle it, it's her. Healing is not linear nor does it rely on one person. I think it always takes a collective effort. It's sort of a trio deal—soul, body, and mind, I suppose. You take care of the soul, I handle the body, and Doctor Sharon tends to the mind." Handing the ice pack to the coach, you continue, "Here you go... I'd recommend applying an ice pack for the next 24 hours. No more than 15 minutes at a time, and repeat throughout the day. Once the swelling subsides, we can transition to warm compress. If the pain becomes unbearable, let me know, and I'll provide you with some painkillers."

The head coach fixed his gaze on you for a moment. “I appreciate your words, doc. Thanks for that. And thank you, too, for the check up. I’ll be pretty as a peach come tomorrow. And hey, If you even need some help, for anything at all, just holler down the hall.” 

Chuckling, you nodded. “Alright then, Coach. Thanks for your time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

____________________________________________

Hi everyone!

This fic is follows the POV of Reader (who is honestly more of an OC without the name). This fic is cross-posted to AO3 with the same title.

Anyways, some notes to consider:

1. Reader is closer to an OC without a name. She has a past and personality. Probably asking why not just give her a name? I could not commit to it; thus, Reader will be used. No y/n usage.

2. Reader is upwards of 30 :))

3. Author is not a football fan nor a PT. All of it came from internet research. Feel free to comment if I got something *horrendously* bad.

4. The idea just came because I really wanted to befriend Dr. Sharon.

With that being said, let's have fun!

[middleearthpixie]

Living Proof ~ Chapter Fifteen

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen.  She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia 

Warnings: Unprotected, kind of angry sex :)

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.3k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell @emrfangirl @emmanuellececchi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Something fluttered against her cheek. Kaia moved away from the soft tickle along her cheekbone, but it followed her insistently. 

She tried to brush it away, but rough fingers tightened about hers and she opened her eyes to find Boromir at her bedside, looking utterly exhausted and a bit disheveled, his cheeks scruffy and unshaven. Even so, her eyes stung at the sight of him, at the sight she thought she’d not see again. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

His low voice made the stinging in her eyes even worse and without thinking, she tightened her fingers about his as she shook her head. “It’s a bit of a blur.”

“I found you out on Pelennor Fields.” His free hand came to rest on her hair, then moved lightly along it. “How did Faramir impress you into service?”

“He did no such thing. I offered.” She managed a smile despite the throbbing ache in her right arm. “I don't know how effective I was, but—”

“You’re here,” he interrupted softly, his hand going still on her hair, “so I’d said you were fairly effective as a warrior.”

“Where did you go? When I saw you at Osgiliath?”

“I tried to find the halflings who’d been there.”

“Sam and Frodo? Why?”

“It is a long story and one I’d take no pride in telling.”

She scowled up at him. “Boromir.”

“I will tell you when I return.”

“Return from where?”

“Osgiliath.”

“What?” She shook her head. “No, it was overrun by orcs. You’d have to be mad to return.”

“I have no choice.”

“What do you mean, you have no choice?”

He resumed his stroking of her hair. “We will talk about that when I return as well. We have a few more important things we need discuss before I leave, though.”

She swallowed hard, the stinging in her eyes even worse now. “Boromir…”

His thumb brushed along her forehead. “Why did you leave?” 

She pulled away from him with a scowl and sat up. “Must we discuss this now?”

“Why not now? What point is there in putting it off longer?”

She looked about. “Well, there are others here, for starters.”

He glanced about at the infirmary. “No one is paying the slightest bit of attention to us.”

“Still. I’d rather not be the entertainment, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Fine.”

“Boromir, I know you’re angry, but—”

“Now, why would I have cause to be angry?” 

His droll tone earned him a glare as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Is there somewhere else we might have this discussion? Because this room is far too full for my liking.”

“Very well.” He stepped back to allow her the room to stand, which she did slowly. Her legs were uninjured, but as she moved, a hot sting erupted in her shoulder, the slow burn that began there slowly slide down her arm, toward her wrist. An icy sweat prickled across her back, across her chest. A wave of nausea rose, one she swallowed hard against as she came completely upright. The last thing she wanted to do was faint in front of him.

Ioreth had given her a clean, simple linen gown to wear, the sleeves short enough for her to tend to Kaia’s wounds, which were two ugly slashes, one running the length of her upper arm to her elbow, the other curved over the top of her shoulder, deep enough that she could barely move her arm more than a few inches in either direction. Even something as simple as moving her fingers caused that hot sting to race through her, although Ioreth assured her that it would heal in time and with the proper care, she should regain full use of her arm. 

Still, standing made her somewhat dizzy and Boromir must’ve seen her sway, for he reached for her. 

Despite the pain and dizziness, she jerked away from him. “I’m fine.”

He withdrew his hand. “Suit yourself.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They glared at one another for a long moment and Kaia grew increasingly aware of the eyes now trained in their direction. “Must we do this here?” she growled.

“Where would you like to do this, then?”

She glared up at him. “This is not my home. And I know I’m asking much, but I would like a whit of privacy, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“Then follow me and I will find a place that will hopefully be more to your liking.”

He didn't wait for her to reply, but spun about and strode off. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at his retreating figure, and then, when she was certain she would neither throw up nor faint, she went after him.

He left the infirmary and turned left around the corner, and as she came around that corner, she found him waiting. “Where are we going?”

“Where you will need not worry about prying eyes or listening ears.”

“And where might that be.”

He resumed his stride. “My flat.”

Kaia stopped dead in her tracks. “Your flat?”

“Aye.” He neither stopped nor slowed, but keep walking.

“But I—” She caught sight of several of the healer’s assistants coming from the infirmary and so hurried to catch up to Boromir. “I cannot go to your flat.”

“It is here or there, lady,” he growled, still not slowing. “So, take your pick.”

“Stubborn goat,” she grumbled, hurrying behind him once more.

He led her down along the sun-drenched corridor, made even brighter by the white stone that made up the walls. But she paid little heed to the walls or to the white stone floor, or anything, really, but his broad shoulders and back, and the way the light danced along his honey-gold hair. He had every right to be angry with her, she had little right to be angry back, but she was afraid of what he was going to say and her fear made fighting back her first instinct.

Still, her belly was alive with butterflies and twisted knots at the same time as he led her up to the level where she assumed his flat was located. As he paused before a white door, her mouth went dry and she thought she might actually be sick.

He unlocked that door and held it open with one hand, gesturing with his other. “After you.”

She marched by him was if her gut didn't churn and her head didn't feel as if it might burst from the force of her blood pounding through her temples when she stepped into the sitting room. His flat was exactly as she would expect it to be—tidy and minimally decorated, more functional than cozy. A far cry from the home she’d tried to create in her small, ramshackle cabin in the woods. But, it suited him.

The door banged shut behind her and she winced as he said, “Any time you wish to explain yourself, I’m all ears.”

“I owe you nothing,” she told him, turning to face him. His face bore no expression, but his eyes swirled dark gray with fury to give him away. Even so, she shrugged. “We are not a couple.”

“No, we aren’t. But do I ask so much?”

“I only did what men have done since the dawn of time,” she told him, biting back a wince as she folded her arms and stared up at him without blinking. The burn in her shoulder started slow, but quickly gained steam as it rolled down toward her elbow and back up again. Still, she ignored it, fighting to keep her focus on him.

Those dark gray eyes widened. “So, that is your reason? A payback of sorts? Have many men been gone from your bed with the sunrise?”

Her gut kinked sharply. “How dare you? I am no whore!”

“I never said you were!”

“You implied it!”

“I implied nothing. I but asked a question.”

Kaia narrowed her eyes at him, the urge to just haul off and punch him tightening within her. Her hands curled into fists, but remained at tucked into the crooks of her arms. “You are a jackass, Boromir.”

“Tell me something I don't already know.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I’m not. I’m agreeing with you there. But, I just want an answer and I do not think it too much to ask.” He stepped closer, his eyes hard and filled with anger. “Why did you run? You owe me at least that much of an explanation.”

“Because I had to,” she snapped, shaking her head. “I couldn’t risk it.”

“Risk what?”

She met his gaze, her cheeks growing warm as he arched one brow ever so slightly. Swallowing hard, she tried to force the words past her lips. “I—I just—”

“You just what? Say it, Kaia. Just tell me.”

“I just couldn't risk it.”

“Risk what? Stop dancing about it and just be honest with me.”

“This! I couldn't risk this because you were going to leave and I just couldn’t—”

He didn't let her finish, but bent to capture her lips with his in a kiss so filled with fire and passion, that those butterflies in her belly went wild and her blood went smoking through her veins. No one ever kissed her with this much hunger and desire and anger and lust and it all combined to make her melt into him, her hands coming to rest on his hips, tightening when his lips parted. Her heart skipped a beat as his tongue touched hers, as it swept along hers in a silken caress that caused her fingers to tightened further on him. But then the fire faded, his kiss growing soft and sweet and lingering when he broke away slowly, and pressed his forehead to hers as he whispered, “Will you risk it now?”

“Will you?”

“For you?” He nodded. “Yes.”

She pressed her lips together at the low growling purr of his voice and her throat tightened. “You—you would?”

“Without hesitation.” He bent to her once more. She melted against him once more, parting her lips, welcoming the sensual invasion of his tongue as it caressed hers. His hands came up to cradle her face, while her fingers curved about his thick wrists, tightening, her fingernails biting into his skin and her heart picked up its pace to thunder against her ribs, to send her blood whooshing through her veins. 

His fingers moved gently along her cheeks, stretched up into her hair, slipping through it to gather it in his fists and hold her still as he slowly, thoroughly explored her mouth.

He released her then, sliding his arms about her waist to lift her against him, sighing into her mouth as she curved her legs about his hips. He pulled her hard against him, and it was her turn to sigh at the tingly rush of fire he sent streaking through her. 

It was her turn to cup his face in her hands, the bristly scruff of beard scratchy against her palms, against her fingertips. So this was what it felt like to be held by him when he was whole, when she could feel the steely strength in his warrior’s body, holding her as if she weighed nothing. His reaction to her was as swift and powerful as hers was to him, as the thick ridge of his erection pressed ever so sweetly into the growing dampness of the ache at the apex of her thighs. She tightened her legs about him, smiling at the low moan that rose in his throat in response. His fingers tightened on the backs of her thighs, and she shivered as he shifted her slightly to free one hand, which slid along her outer thigh, dragging the smooth linen gown up in his wake. 

He pressed her back against the door, his lips hot and furious and teasing as they seized hers again. The fiery passion in his kiss sliced through her, made her blood almost boil from the heat scorching her from the inside out. Kaia shoved her fingers into his hair, gripping it in tight fists to keep him from pulling away from her. 

Not that he tried to do anything of the sort. If anything, her reaction seemed to inflame his passion even more. He pressed harder against her, giving a powerful thrust that had her shivering against him, her body humming with desire, tight knots of desire twisting deep inside her. She ached for him already, her head falling back against the door with a soft thunk as he broke the kiss to sweep another fiery one down over her chin, along her bowed neck. Down into the vee of her neckline.

The skirt rode higher, guided by his hand until he’d pushed it up above her hips and his fingers came warm and teasing along the back of her thigh, into the damp curls between them.

“Oh!” Her gasp broke free of its own as he slipped a finger inside her and stroked. She shivered around him, tugging on his hair as a breathless, “Boromir!” rose to her lips.

He teased her with no little gentleness, each stroke making her ache for him grow steadily worse and impossible to ignore. Her head spun wildly, her eyes closing of their own as he slid his finger free and his hand disappeared.

Then, her eyes snapped open as he positioned himself and offered up a powerful thrust that had her clinging to him, her fingers twisting harder in his hair as he filled her. She slid smoothly along the door, her thighs clamping against his sides, her body throbbing all around him as he brought her to the edge of madness and held her there, pulling away to offer up a slow, teasing smile and murmured, “I’ve missed you.”

She couldn't hold back a smile of her own. “I’ve missed you to—oh!”

He surged hard, and that was it. The knots burst. The pleasure erupted into a fiery rush of tingles that tore through her. She tightened around him, desperate for him to feel even an ounce of what he made her feel and when he moaned low in his through, she whispered, “Oh, yes…”

“Kaia!” His deep voice reverberated around them as he went over the edge, surrendering to her as he drove deep, shuddered hard, and came, crushing her between him and the door.

Kaia clung to him, let the wave wash over her, hot and sweet, and when he went still against her, she brushed his ear with her lips, laughing softly as he moaned and shivered from the sensation. His head fell forward, into the curve of her shoulder, his breath short and sharp as he whispered, “Oh… love… I need to sit…”

“Are you all right?”

He staggered back, sinking into the chair the corner beyond the door. His arms tightened about her as he sighed softly. “I’m fine. A bit tired, is all.”

She drew back to gaze down at him, smiling as she caught his face in her hands once more. “I missed you.”

A sleepy smile played at his lips. “As I missed you. Perhaps against my better judgment, but I did.”

“I went back,” she told him, tracing along the edge of his goatee along his chin. “But you’d already gone. I didn't think you’d return, so I moved on as well.” She let her fingers trail down along the side of his neck, along the embroidered collar of his tunic, smiling as he let out a soft sigh.

He opened his eyes then, and to her relief they were soft, more gray than blue as they met hers. “How did Faramir find you?”

“He snuck up on me in the woods. Not far from Osgiliath, actually. I almost ended up his prisoner, but managed to talk him into giving me the chance to prove myself.”

“Which I’ve no doubt you did,” he murmured, wincing as he slowly slipped from her.

She also winced at the trickle of his spend along the inside of her thighs. Carefully easing from his lap, she stood and looked about for something she could use to clean up. Boromir rose from the chair with a low groan and moved toward the door at the far end of the room. A bathing chamber, she supposed, as he emerged with a folded towel that he held out to her. 

She accepted it, smiling as she said, “This is so messy.”

“It is, but it is so worth it.” 

As he passed by her, he pressed a kiss into the top of her head. It was the simplest of gestures, and yet she felt it clear through to the center of her being as she watching him sink into the chair once more. “Boromir?”

“What?”

“What happens now?”

He glanced toward the window on the far side of the room. Twilight had set in, the darkness softly purple beyond the panes. “I know not, to be honest. Faramir and I will be heading out in the morning, returning to Osgiliath.”

She froze, the damp towel going still as she stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“We’ve been ordered to retake it.”

“It was overrun with orcs, though. I cannot say how many, maybe thousands. And yet you’re going back?”

“I’ve no choice,” he told her softly. Then, he held out a hand. “May I, if you’re finished?”

“Oh, of—of course.” She pressed the towel into his waiting hand and stood there, not exactly certain where she should sit. “But, who ordered you do this?”

“My father.” He made use of the towel, then rose to bring it back into the bathing chamber and as he returned, he was fastening his trousers as he strode back to her. “He ordered me and Faramir to retake it, so we will leave at sunrise.”

“Boromir, no… you cannot mean—”

“I was not given the choice, Kaia. I was given the order and I will see it done.”

“Let me go with you.”

“Absolutely not.” He caught her face in his hands, his thumbs slow as they swept along her cheeks. “You will remain here, where it’s safe for now.”

She shook her head, her eyes stinging once more. “If something should happen to you—” 

“I will be fine,” he told her, his voice a low purring growl. 

“You don’t know that.”

“It isn’t up for discussion,” he replied softly. “Now, we can either fight about it some more and then go to bed or we can skip the fighting altogether and just get naked this time and go to bed. Which would you prefer?”

“Boromir!”

Her belly fluttered as he offered up a boyish grin and, without warning, swept her up into his arms and spirited her into his bedchamber, where he bent to press her down into the soft, comfortable mattress even as he murmured, “You are impossible, do you know this?”

Kaia wound her arms about his neck to pull him down flush against her. “Why? Because I’d rather keep you here?”

“Then why did you really run?”

He asked it softly, without a hint of anger, only wisps of confusion curling about his words. Reaching up, she tucked a loose lock of honey-gold hair behind his ear and shrugged as she replied, “I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“No. I think… I’ve been on my own for so long, I’m not so certain I know how to be with anyone else.”

“Tell me something.” He held her gaze. “Was there someone else in your village? A husband? A lover?”

“No,” she shook her head, “there wasn’t. At least, not entirely. But, this is hardly the place to discuss that, don't you think?”

“Only if you’re thinking of him while you’re with me.”

“There is no him, Boromir. It was—it hadn’t gotten to that stage yet.” She smiled up at him, her fingers lingering along his scruffy cheek. “What about you? How is it no woman has laid claim to you yet? Or, is there something you haven’t told me?”

To her relief, he chuckled. Chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never felt the need to settle down. Wife. Children. They weren’t for me. And I’ve found that with most women, they are fine with that, until they change their minds and assume they will change mine.”

“I imagine they see you as quite the catch. The steward’s handsome son, the brave warrior. I image you break hearts on a daily basis. All of them hoping they’ll be the one to win the heir’s noble heart.”

To her surprise a hint of darkness crept into his eyes. “I’d not use those words to describe me.”

“Which words?”

“Brave. Noble. They do not describe me at all.”

“Well, that is because you are humble as well.”

“Kaia,” he eased off her, shifted to grip the hem of the staid blue and gray quilt folded at the bed’s foot, and drew it up over them as he stretched out alongside her, “I am not the man you seem to think me to be and while I’d rather not think about why, it isn’t fair to you to pretend otherwise.”

She eased onto her side, wincing at the hot sting that crept up her arm as she tried to brace on it. At first, she thought she’d simply power through the pain and forget about it, but the pain wouldn’t allow itself to be forgotten. Her arm trembled. The sting worsened and left her with no choice but to sink back into the pillows and their sweet-smelling, clean linen cases. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I am neither noble nor brave and modesty has nothing to do with it, either.”

“What happened? Does it have to do with the halflings? Is that why you were so desperate to find them?”

He said nothing, but just stared up at the ceiling. Kaia turned from him to do the same, looking up at the clean white stone, a far cry from the dingy stone of Osgiliath. Stained beams stretched across the ceiling, and the windowpanes in the windows along the eastern wall were intact, small rippled squares that let sunlight spill across the stone floor. Across from Boromir’s bed, a hearth, large enough for her to stand up in, was dark and above it, on the white stone mantel, stood a scattering of miniatures in oval gilt frames. 

She turned back to him just as he said, “Yes. But not the halflings you think I mean. There were four of them, when we started out. And the Uruk-hai grabbed two of them.” 

“They were the ones I saw in the clearing, weren’t they?”

He nodded slowly. “Merry and Pippin, yes. I got on with them, had taught them the basics of defending themselves, only I never though the time would come when I would fail to protect them.”

“But, why would you need protect them? Any of them? That’s what I’m confused about. Why was a soldier in the company of four halflings?”

“There were nine of us to begin with. The hobbits, an elf, a dwarf, a Ranger, and a wizard.”

“It sounds like an interesting group.”

 “It was, and we all had a single purpose. But, they did not know what I was planning to do.” He looked over at her, his eyes pained and added, “I was tasked by my father with going to Rivendell in order to find the Ring of Sauron and return here, to give it to my father and let Gondor have the glory of defeating Sauron with it.

“One of the hobbits was in possession of it, though, and so my task became to see him to Mordor, to Mount Doom, where the Ring would be destroyed. And I was fine with that. I gave my word that I’d see it done. And I would have. I fully intended to see it through. 

“But, the Ring… it would not let me be, would not leave me in peace. It whispered to me, and little by little, the whisper grew louder.”

“The whisper?”

He nodded slowly. “There is no other way to describe it. A soft, dark, malicious whisper that was as seductive as it was evil. All I’d hear in my head was that voice telling me the Ring should be mine. That the honor of restoring Gondor and all of Middle Earth to its glory should be mine. And I tried to ignore it, tried to keep in mind what I was supposed to do. But that whisper grew louder and louder… until it simply would not let me be at peace.”

His voice trailed off and an uneasy silence settled about them. Kaia wanted to urge him to go on, but had the feeling it wouldn’t make him tell his story any faster. Instead, she reached for his hand, resting against his stomach, and slid hers over it, smiling as he linked his fingers with hers and they tightened gently about hers.

“And I gave in,” he finally whispered.

“Gave in?”

“Yes. I could resist the lure no longer. I wanted the glory. I wanted all of it. And when I tried to convince him that I should have the Ring, he would not give it to me. So,” he shifted onto his side, propping his head on his fist, “I tried to take it. I tried to overpower someone half my size in order to take the Ring for myself. And had he not gotten away from me, I’ve no doubt I’d have harmed him in order to take it.”

Although she knew where his tale would lead, it still surprised her to a certain degree, for the Boromir she’d come to know what neither treacherous nor duplicitous. He was the image of honor. So, for him to fall prey to the seduction of the Ring meant it had to beyond powerful, beyond the realm of resistance, no matter how great a man’s honor might be.

She met his gaze. “Frodo?”

He nodded. “Frodo.”

“And is that why you went after him at Osgiliath? To take it again?”

“No. I’ve done nothing that caused me as much as shame as my actions at Amon Hen have. And aside from Frodo, you are the only one who knows the truth about me, about what I did. And I would not fault you in the slightest if you wanted only to walk out of this flat and never speak to me again.”

She remembered Sam’s taunt to Faramir about what happened to Boromir. He knew. Frodo must have told him. She kept that to herself as she gaze back at Boromir. He looked like a man in agony at that moment, knowing full well the what the consequences of his actions could be, and perfectly willing to accept them, no matter what.

But, she also knew him and knew that, when not under the spell of the powerful Ring, Boromir was every bit as noble and honorable as she described him. He was a good man, despite his flaws, and having his father put the pressure on him to begin with must have weighed every bit as heavily upon him as the task itself had.

“That’s a bit much,” she told him, reaching up to curve her hand against his cheek. “The draw must have been so very strong, for you to try to overpower him, for the Boromir I’ve come to know would not look to harm someone who did not deserve it.”

His hand came up to cover hers. “Kaia, don’t make excuses for what I did.”

“I’m not. I simply do not believe that you would fall prey to it again.”

“I felt its pull,” he confessed softly, his thumb grazing along her hand. “Before I even saw Frodo in the tunnel. I knew he was still there, for the Ring whispered to me. It was low and almost unintelligible, but I heard it and it beckoned me.”

“And did you try to take it again?”

He shook his head slowly. “I did not. I turned and made my way back before he even knew I was there. And it’s probably for the best, as I doubt he’d want to see me again.”

“So, you were stronger than the pull.”

A hint of a smile came to his lips. “I was this time.”

“Tell me, if you were trying to take the Ring, how did you come across the Uruk-hai?”

“I heard them. Frodo had run and I assume he came across the others—Sam and Merry and Pippin—and I cannot say where he ran after that. I heard the orcs and knew the others were in danger so I came to their aid.”

“Their aid?”

He nodded. “Despite what I’d taught them, which was only the basics, really, Merry and Pippin weren’t fighters. None of the halflings are—or were—and I knew they would not stand a chance alone. So, I jumped between them and the orcs and held the Uruk-hai off as best I could.” A wry smile curved his lips. “And you know what happened after that.”

“Wait,” she rose onto her elbow again, this time ignoring the pain as she met his gaze steadily, “you mean you intentionally put yourself in that danger?”

“I had to, Kaia. I’d almost killed Frodo. I had to do something, had to keep the other two safe. But, they felled me and I have no idea what happened to them, so I suppose I failed them as well.”

“If Sam and Frodo got away safely, perhaps the others did as well.”

“I have no way of knowing. I only know if there were too many for me to fight off and I don’t know how I didn't die there. I imagine Aragorn and the others must’ve heard the horn and come to my aid, but I cannot recall it. All I remember is crawling over to that tree where you found me and then, I heard you.”

He shifted then, coming over her once more, easing her onto her back again. “Why were you there?” he whispered as he came flush against her, his lips brushing hers lightly. 

“I was hunting, stalking a deer. I heard the orcs’ footsteps and ducked into the brush. Then, I was curious, so I moved closer and as I did, I saw you come bounding through the trees with your sword drawn and you threw yourself into battle. Then,” a soft laugh bubbled to her lips, “you grabbed your horn and the first blast startled me and I lost my footing. I went tumbling ass over teakettle down the embankment. By the time I’d gotten all of my things gathered, they’d grabbed Merry and Pippin and were going off in the opposite direction. 

“I thought perhaps you’d gone after them, but in the quiet, I heard something.” She reached up to tuck that same wayward lock of hair behind his ear. “It was you. Against the trunk of that tree.”

“They could’ve come back for you.”

“They didn't know I was there and even if they had, I cared not. You were still alive, so, I grabbed you and dragged you back to the cabin. And I apologize now for the number of times I dropped you. You are far heavier than I thought you’d be.”

He grinned. “I cannot even recall it, so there is no need to apologize. I am only thankful you were selfless enough to do it.”

“You were cute.”

“I must have looked like a porcupine.”

“You did. But a very handsome one.”

“Well, that’s something.” 

He dipped to her, his lips soft and teasing as they moved against hers. She wound her arms about his neck, tugging him closer still. “I am glad I heard you,” she murmured.

“As am I,” he whispered back as his lips claimed hers and all further conversation was forgotten.