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explicit-tae · 1 year

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Contagious

An alternate world in which at the age of 25, your true soulmate is revealed. Some choose to defy the soulmate tie - but you refuse; especially when it’s revealed to be your sisters boyfriend.

Warning; cheating, sweating, begging, gagging, nipple play, breast play, nipple sucking, oral (f & m receiving), face sitting, porn with little plot lol, dirty talk, swallowing,

Word Count: 4,104

Alternate Universe

Not everyone enjoyed the idea of soulmates. Who the hell did the universe think they were supplying a human being to be your soulmate - someone you could never know until the day came? It was comical, truly, that at the age of 25 you were deemed "ready enough" to encounter your soulmate. You could be in a relationship or vice versa and suddenly, poof - the person you adored is no longer the one you wish to be with.

Of course, some choose to ignore their soulmates all together. It was easier said than done. If you never met your soulmate face to face made things easier. Eye contact was a guarantee give away and to deny the soul tie would be difficult for both parties, but not impossible. You've read many stories of soulmates ignoring their birth right - it caused scarring and sickness, even paranoia; but it wasn't impossible.

Ignoring your birth right wasn't something you were choosing to do yourself. Your 25th birthday was a day you were jumping with joy at the idea of finding your soulmate. You felt hot and heavy, a sign in which your soulmate was nearby. It frightened you - who was he or she and why were they close? Did your soulmate not wish to be with you? If they were close, that meant you knew of them, and they knew of you. If so, it could only mean they knew of you and didn't wish to follow their birth right.

You were correct when your eyes met Min Yoongi the same day. The fluttering feeling of your heart beating faster, the way your palms begin to sweat, and your legs quivered. The chattering around you died down, coming to complete silence and all your eyes could focus on was his and his presence only. His scent nearly made you intoxicated - manly and woody; it causes your mouth to water.

The problem was nearby - and it caused for you to break your trance away from Yoongi. You watched as arms embraced Yoongi and brought him into a tight hug. His eyes doesn't break from yours when your elder sister hugs him close, oblivious to connection radiating from the two of you. You felt sickened to your stomach at the sight, and it also causes your heart to ache, but you had no reason to be upset. He wasn't yours - officially - and your sister had him first. She was one of the many women to ignore her birth right and declared that she would choose her soulmate instead of having it be chosen for her.

Your stomach churns at the sight once more. Yoongi was older than you and your sister, which meant he knew of your soul tie to him for just as long. You pondered if he cares - if he was similar to your sister in ignoring soul ties. Your sister and you were opposites when it came to the universe - though you weren't completely untouched. You weren't opposed to dating or hooking up; however, you were adamant on never settling for anyone who wasn't your soul mate.

"I'm going to be late." you hear your sister's voice pipe up.

"Where are you going?" you murmur, fingers picking at the skin of your hand. "I thought we were going to brunch."

It was your sister's idea, after all, to spend the night at her place and get brunch the next day in celebration of your birthday - and not to celebrate the day you'd find your soul tie.

"I doubled booked." Your sister giggles, but you don't find anything amusing, especially when it came to a special day such as this. "I forgot I told Yui I'd meet her for brunch last week. We can definitely do dinner."

Your cheeks flushes in embarrassment. You can feel the eyes of Yoongi on you, possibly the same pity eyes he always sent you when it came to your sister's carelessness. It wasn't the first time she brushed you off completely and it'd never be the last.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. "Okay." you agreed. "I'll just..."

"Why doesn't she go with you?" Yoongi's voice is deep and raspy, and you swear you can feel your clit pulsing at the sound of it. "You see Yui every other day." he murmurs to her, annoyance evident in his tone.

Your sister sucks her teeth.

"It's fine." you assure, shaking your head. Your sister and you weren't close, nor did the two of you fight constantly. There wasn't much of a sisterhood between the both of you. She was the elder sister who excelled in whatever she did and went against the norm. You were the quiet younger sister who decided to live in tradition more than anything.

"See? She's fine." Your sister brushes Yoongi's concerns off with a tap on the shoulder. "I'll be back later. It's happy hour."

Yoongi scoffs lowly, eyes trailing as your sister strolls off with her purse. The front door open and closes and it's soon silence between the two of you. He wasn't surprised by your sister's ignorance; she's done this time and time again. However, a birthday was sacred and personal - not a happy hour brunch with a friend.

"I gotta-"

"We should talk." Yoongi interrupts. Your 25th birthday was the day he was dreading ever since he began dating your sister. He passed the age of soul ties and once realized that he has yet met his destined soulmate, he decided to settle with your sister. They moved in with one another after a year and by the second, he had met you - his soul mate. It made his life extremely complicated.

"I don't think-"

Yoongi reaches out for you - a mistake - once you're turning away to walk down the hall to the guest bedroom. A shock runs through his veins at your touch; goosebumps erupting his skin. He flinches away from you as if you burned him, eyes wide. He never felt such a sensation - never felt the need to touch anyone until now.

Shit.

Your smell was intoxicating now more than ever. Your scent forever lingeried in his presence upon meeting you years ago. Your sister's scent being fruitier, it was easier to hide your scent. Now, he's unsure if he could ever get the scent out of his mind.

"I'm sorry." Yoongi chokes out. He understands you - he can feel your sorrow. He chose to ignore his soul tie to you and continue being one with your sister. It was selfish of him, he understood; especially how your sister told him how traditional you were when it came to the universe. Yoongi hated conflict and breaking apart a family isn't something he wished to do.

"Don't be." You managed to choke out, throat tight. You couldn't be upset at Yoongi. You were upset with yourself more than anything. The universe could choose your soulmate, but they couldn't make the person consent into loving you. While you brushed all of your love interests away to be with yours, it wasn't guaranteed your soulmate would do the same. "Why didn't you...tell me?"

'Why would he?' You ask yourself. Yoongi and you weren't friends, only cordial. He has been with your sister for years and the thought of him being your soulmate now makes you sick at the universe for how foolish you truly were.

"I love her." Yoongi's words come out as a whisper and his heart churns at the way your face falls. He was hurting himself along with you. Soul ties did this to you. He could feel your pain and confusion; betrayal.

"I got to go." you cough, vision blurring. The years you studied soul ties, they never told you love would hurt like this. Being denied by your soulmate felt worse than any pain you felt before.

"I don't love you any less." Yoongi hurries to stop you, hands curling around your wrist. "I love you, Y/N, but I cannot betray your sister. Not now." Yoongi shakes his head.

He loves you.

Yoongi loves you.

Yoongi loves you?

"I thought if I," Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat. "helped you that it would be enough."

You furrow a brow. "Help...me?"

"I was the one who paid your tuition. Not fully," Yoongi gulps. "I had help but-"

"You." Your eyes widen. You were swimming in debt after college and the office job helped pay the bills, but it wasn't enough to cover such a hefty bill such as tuition. You told yourself after you finished writing your book (that you haven't even began) that you could be the next big author of the decade.

"I recommended you to Hobi-ah. Said you'd be a good addition to his company."

You blinked your eyes several times. "That's how I got hired to a job I never applied to." you scoff, knitting your brows. You swore that your boss, Hoseok, gaslit you into working for him. He gave you a call and stated that he went through your resume and thought you were the perfect match. After several minutes of speaking, you had a job and left yourself confused, but willing to work.

"I told myself that if I couldn't be with you that at least you'll be alright. That you'd write the book you've been struggling on for years and publish it. That you'll become a big time author and maybe move on from me-"

Yoongi's stunned when he feels your lips on his - soft and inviting. Your hands wrap around his neck and your body pushes against his.

'This is wrong.' he tells himself. 'I'm not a single man.'

But kissing you felt right. He felt alive - his body electrifying with each passing second. His mind screamed at him to stop - your sister was who be loved. Yes, he admitted long ago that he couldn't truly love her the way he wanted to; not with you around. But he could never cause your relationship with her to crumble because of fate.

"Tell me to stop." Your lips say against his lips, so inviting that it's painful at the thought of you halting your actions.

'Stop.' Yoongi's mind demands, but his words don't register. Instead, his tongue dips inside your mouth and marvels at how warm and savory your tongue feels against his.

'Tell her to stop.'

Yoongi's hands find your body and he wastes no time in trailing his hands upwards to grope your breast. His breath hitches at the sensation of your clothed against the palm of his hands.

'Tell her to stop.'

Your moans are sweet melodies his ears are blessed to hear. His hands are large massaging your breast, fingers pinching your nipples between massages.

'Tell her to stop!'

"Don't stop." You moan, a string of saliva connecting your tongue to his and it was enough for Yoongi to be fully consumed by you.

"I never knew you cook." Your sister giggles after taking a bite of her food, more like a nibble. She wasn't going to eat it, she wasn't much of a pork eater.

But Yoongi was, the soul tie telling you.

Speaking of the man, he appears as though he's being tortured. The last he seen of you was a month prior on your birthday - the same birthday he cheated on his longtime girlfriend.

It was difficult for Yoongi to sit across from you when he seen you naked below (and on top) of him. It plagued his mind for the entirety of the days to come, but the guilty he experienced ate him alive. He couldn't look his girlfriend i the eye. He couldn't touch her, either. All her sexual advances had been rejected and he could only guess how horrible she feels.

Yoongi wasn't the only individual who had their mind clouded. Your mind never removed Yoongi from them. The animalistic side he displayed while fucking you - how needy and hard he was, how passionate the sex was between true soulmates.

Minutes felt like seconds when you were with Yoongi, a blur. You laid naked before him on the very bed he shared with your sister. Your mind yells at you to stop - to not be a homewrecker. But your heart and lust tell you to continue - that you were doing nothing wrong. Yoongi may be your sister's boyfriend, but he was your soul mate.

Yoongi's hands engulf your naked breasts, massaging until your nipples stiffen. He licks his lips, head dipping down to wrap his tongue around it. It's savory, causing not only for you to moan at the sensation, but for him as well. Yoongi's breathing quickens as he gets caught into the act of suckling your breast.

Yoongi shivers, goosebumps covering his skin. He could suck every inch of your body for hours - he could orgasm by just doing so. He was leaking, his cock feeling moist against his boxer briefs. Foreplay with your sister wasn't as amazing as this - but she wasn't his soulmate. You were, and sex with your soulmate was far more intense than with anyone else.

"I need to taste you." Yoongi pops a nipple from his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it. "You want to ride my face, baby?"

You melt against the bed, fingers clenching against Yoongi's shirt. You tug at it, nodding your head. You couldn't imagine not sitting on Yoongi's face while his tongue pleasures you.

Yoongi grunts and removes his shirt. His briefs were tight against his bulge, but he ignores it. He needed you on his tongue now more than ever.

You yelp when Yoongi flips you, your dripping pussy against his lips. His tongue pokes out to lick a savory lick against your clit, eyes staring right into yours.

"S-shit." you hiss, thighs buckling. You slowly grind against his tongue, your eyes fluttering.

You were in bliss. This is all you ever desired - to be one with your soulmate. Sex wasn't as good as this - it never would be if it wasn't with Yoongi.

Your breathing quickens when Yoongi's hands place them on your hips and encourages you to grind against him roughly. His eyes doesn't leave you, completely satisfied that he gets to please you in such a way. Your taste causes his mind to spin, and he determines that you were the best pussy he's ever tasted.

Yoongi was addicted.

Yoongi's right hand reaches up to clench your breast. You're twitching against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. But Yoongi doesn't halt - no, he doesn't dare. He's slurping your clit aggressively as if his life depended on it, and in a way it did. You were his soul mate. He could feel what you felt - and you were cumming.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you moan out, body twitching against Yoongi's tongue licking up your juices.

You clench your legs just thinking about it. The way you came on Yoongi's tongue was a first in a lifetime orgasm that you couldn't give up. The weeks leading up to today was torture. You couldn't stop touching yourself at the memory of Yoongi in bed with you. But it wasn't enough. Nor was the vibrator and even the dildo you recently purchased.

You lick your lips at Yoongi, heart content that he's enjoying your cooking. You were positive he would, soul ties have several benefits in and outside of sex.

"I'm going to go make a sandwich." your sister stands from her seat, placing the pork contents onto Yoongi's plate. "And rummage through your cabinets."

Your sister rounds the corner to your kitchen. You can hear her doing as she said she would, opening and closing your fridge and cabinets.

Your eyes glance at Yoongi from across of you. He's finishing up his plate as you watch him. The sounds your sister is making was what caused you to act in such a way.

Yoongi yelps when something pinches his thigh. His head snaps up to survey his surroundings, not finding you. He dips his head underneath the table and gulps when he witnesses you.

"Y/N-"

"I need you." you begged, eyes pleading him. It makes him weak, but his brain allows him to shake his head.

"Y/N, not now." Yoongi hisses, eyes wide with shock. You're so beautiful kneeling before him, but your sister was in the next room.

Yoongi doesn't stop your hands from inching towards his (hardened) length.

"She won't hear if you're quiet." You lick your lips. Your own judgment was clouding you. Never in a million years would you have done this, but you'll blame your soul tie (and lust) for Yoongi. "Don't you want me?"

Fuck.

Yoongi finds himself nodding. His eyes glance to the doorway where your sister stood behind, making her sandwich.

The things his soulmate was making him do.

But he couldn't fully blame you. His heart ached for you while he laid next to your sister at night. His mind often played flashbacks of his night with you, and it drove him insane.

"I need you, Yoongi." you begged, falling back against the bed. "I need you inside of me."

"Yeah, baby?" Yoongi slithers on top of you. His lips kiss along your jaw. "You want me to fuck you?"

Yoongi shivers, biting his lips. His hands rub along your thighs. He wished nothing more than to be deep inside of you - to coat every inch of your walls with his cum until you were dripping.

Yoongi's thoughts were filthy. He managed to keep his thoughts of you at ease, but now that the both of you were together and fully aware of the soul tie, his mind couldn't help but crave you.

Yoongi manages to release his cock. He couldn't wait a second longer - not while you laid beneath him begging to be fucked.

Yoongi positions his cock at your entrance, gently rubbing against your clit. He grunts - you were the wettest pussy he's encountered. He ponders how in the world he was going to get you out of his mind once the deed was done.

"Shiiiit." Yoongi grunts as he enters you. You're warm and wet and he regrets not doing this with you sooner.

Yoongi was but a man, but he tries. He tries to be gentle and slow, but your soft moans mixed with the tightness of your pussy sends him over the edge. He couldn't help but fuck into you, snapping his hips to get deeper inside of you.

Your eyes snap shut. You never felt complete such as this. His cock was made for you, truly. Your pussy was made for him, the way it squelches was just one way of knowing.

"This pussy was made for me, baby." Yoongi grumbles, nails digging into your skin. He wraps your legs around his waist and snaps his hips inside of you. "You're so wet and tight for me."

Neither of you cared at the mess you were making on his bed, nor the ruckus that echoed across the room. Skin slapping, heavy breathing and moans - it was sickening truly at how comfortable the two of them felt when at any given moment they could be caught. But at this moment, neither of you bothered to care. It was just the two of you in this moment - and you couldn't ask for anything else.

Yoongi was a man and no matter how hard he tried to not be filthy, he couldn't control himself. He fucked you on your back with your knees behind your ears. He fucked you from behind, hands slapping your ass while you pleaded for more. He flipped and even managed to fuck you while you rode him - and yet and still he could never be tired of the way your pussy felt heavenly for him - just for him.

Yoongi hurryingly pushed down his pants, eyes darting to the doorway.

Your hands wrap around his cock hungrily, mouthwatering. This would be your first-time blowing Yoongi and you couldn't wait.

You wasted no time in licking the tip of Yoongi's cock like your favorite lollipop. Your hands thrust and rub against the base while you suck the tip of his cock.

Yoongi bites his lip to hide the moans. Your mouther was amazing, almost as amazing as your pussy. The adrenaline rushing through him excites him. The thought of almost being caught with your lips wrapped around his cock brings the excitement he never knew he desired.

You bring Yoongi's cock deeper into your mouth. You feel his fingers tangle into your hair, bringing his cock deeper and deeper.

"Y/N!" your sister calls, but Yoongi couldn't stop himself from thrusting into you. "I'm going to use the last of this mayonnaise."

Your eyes watered as you peered up at a grunting Yoongi. Saliva slides down the corner of your mouth and you could no longer help the low gagging noises when Yoongi reaches your throat.

"Fuck baby." Yoongi grunts. He slaps your cheeks, eyes dark. There was something sinister in him that desired to do every and anything filthy to you. You were more than willing. "You want us to get caught, don't you?"

You do, as fucked up as it was. You wished nothing more than your sister to see you and your soulmate doing what you were destined to. It was terrible, but it was what she deserved. If she would have agreed to be with her own soulmate you wouldn't have to sneak to be with yours.

Yoongi slides the chair back. If he was going to cum before your sister returned, he'd need to be his usually rough self. He thrusts deeper into your throat. Your sister opens and closes the fridge a few more times, but no footsteps could be heard.

Your eyes catch Yoongi's, though blurry and teary eyed.

"You're so beautiful for me, baby." Yoongi murmurs, cock twitching inside of you. "My beautiful soulmate. So dirty...all for me."

Yoongi thrusts a few more times before he cums deep inside of your mouth. It hits the back of your throat, and you swore you'd choke.

"I love you." Yoongi hisses, legs giving out and he falls back into the chair.

Your eyes widen, swallowing the cum inside your mouth. Yoongi is breathing heavily but manages to lift his pants up while you wipe your mouth. Your sister is finishing up, you can hear her footsteps come closer.

Your lips place themselves onto Yoongi's in a quick kiss. "I love you, too." you murmur against his lips and push yourself back to your seat.

"Are you sure this is something you'd want to publish?" your editor snickers, but she's overly amused.

Months had since passed, and Yoongi and you were left a secret. Everything between the two of you weren't sexual. You two went out on dates, but in the next town over. Your sister had several friends and being caught would only assure that your sister would know.

Yoongi insisted that he and your sister weren't together anymore sexually, but the titled as his girlfriend still remained to her. It upset you, but he wasn't lying about not touching her. She has ranted how the sex was nonexistent and she was not only sexually frustrated, but physically and emotionally.

"Yes." you nod your head.

You managed to finish the book you were writing. The original plot had since changed into the new one, a memoir of your time as a mistress to your soulmate. Your editor insisted that it would be a best-seller, but your reputation would be rooted as a homewrecker.

It was a risk you were willing to take, however, in order to have Yoongi be yours fully. It was a risk that your sister would come to despise you, but that was what you were willing to endure.

Yoongi was a man that hated conflict. He couldn't hurt your sister more than what he already was. He thought if he became emotionally (and physically) unavailable that she would eventually leave him.

But you knew your sister. She was stubborn - persistent.

But so were you.

"What's the title?" your editor raises her brow. In a short few weeks, the book would be published, and no doubt would it be a best-seller amongst young adults. You'll be on your book tour with promoting your book and then will be rolling in cash - all about you cheating with your sister's boyfriend.

"Contagious." You respond, heart beating rapidly. You couldn't believe you were doing this - but it needed to be done. For you and Yoongi's relationship. He was your soulmate, after all, and he could never remain upset with you for long.

@juju-227592 @iheartsvt @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632

#contagious #yoongi x reader #soulmates #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #btsmasterlist2023 #explicit-tae #alternate universe #bts au #yoongi soulmate #bangtanwritershq #bangtan smut #yoongi smut

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cinnabons-treasure-trove · 15 days

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Consort Merlin: [shining Arthur's armour]

King Arthur: [staring at his consort] You know you're not my manservant anymore, right love?

Consort Merlin: [humming] I know, but your safety is still my priority, that includes making sure your armour and weapons aren't rusted or tampered with.

King Arthur: [smiling fondly] Of course sweetheart.

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eyebagshawty · 3 months

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Is It Really You? (Part 3)

Pairing: Astarion x Spawn!Reader

Summary: While Astarion is roaming the streets for Cazador's next meal, he stumbles upon someone crying near the edge of the lower city. Turns out, you wouldn't be a worthy victim, and you're a lot closer to him than you may imagine.

Song Inspo: Is It Really You? By Loathe

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/cruelty, mentions of abuse, mentions of trauma, NSFW (18+ ONLY), Cazador is his own warning

Other Tags: Slow burn, eventual smut, fem!Reader, soulmates

A/N: Hello! As no surprise to anyone, I’ve been pretty down and out lately. However, here’s a new chapter in an attempt to get back in the swing of things! I see everyone’s request and love them, and they’ll be written (reliably) in a week or so as I push through them. N e ways sorry I’ve been away I’ve missed you guys :,)

Part 1 Part 2

Leon shook your shoulders in the confines of your quarters, his expression one of protective fury. “What the hell were you thinking? Hmm? Going to see him and doing… hells… this!” He hissed, wiggling your wrist in front of your eyes. Because the bond had been sealed, the entire room smelled like Astarion. You frantically wiped at the tears streaming down your face in a futile attempt.

“Please Leon… I need you to be quiet about this. I don’t want him to be hurt. Please,” you pleaded with him, wiping the excess blood from your wrist onto his arm as you grasped for them to get his attention.

His face contorted even further. “Quiet. Quiet?! I have a daughter. A child. The only reason I do the things I do for him is for her. Nobody else.” He watched as you pulled away, hurt and surprise flashing across your eyes. “Fine,” he sighed, “but if I even sniff anything else, which master surely will, you’re done for darling.”

You let out another sob but nodded. You would never see Astarion again for everybody’s safety. As Leon undressed you and stuck you in the bathtub to begin scrubbing the scent out of your skin, your chest tugged and a thought clouded your senses. Elfsong. You tried not to show any difference in expression, and tried your damndest to transmit a yes.

Once you smelled a little more like yourself, Leon gathered you into a robe and began bandaging your wrist. “He can’t see it, darling. Not if you want to keep your lips,” he whispered in a morbid sense of comfort. You shook your head clear, in the need of making a plan for the first time in centuries.

“Please Leon. Go see him and make sure he’s okay. Tell him I’m okay,” you held his fingers in a gentle plea. Cazador would be back any minute and if he saw Astarion looking like he did when you parted, his rage would know no bounds.

Leon stroked your knuckles and squeezed them as he stood. “Your bed clothes are on the masters bed. Change. Quickly.” He heard scrambling feet and caught Cazador’s scent at the entrance of the castle. He pushed you to your feet. “Go,” he whispered, giving you the faintest nod as he made his way to the dormitory.

Astarion felt nauseous. From being away from his mate? Maybe. From the thought of his possible impending death? Surely. Dal and the others had pelted him with questions when he arrived back at the dormitory, to which he spat venomous words and crawled into his bunk away from everyone.

He kept thinking about the Elfsong tavern, how he needed to see you again, despite what his disgusting master commanded. He wanted to cherish you, become one with you, body and soul. He wanted to take you to the edges of Faerǔn, away from all the dangers that lurked this side of the river Chionthar.

He bolted upright as he smelled rose and vanilla soap, eyes darting around the room in search of you. His search was blocked by Leon in front of him, with a furious glare in his glowing red eyes. “You. With me. Now.”

Leon dragged Astarion out of the spawn dormitory and into the favored spawn room. Victoria sat reading in one of the faux luxurious beds. When she saw Astarion her book slammed closed. “Papa? What’s going on?”

“Darling, why don’t you go visit the gardens, the moon looks beautiful tonight. Don’t forget your dictionary,” Leon said, his voice thick with urgency. Victoria scrambled out of the room, and as soon as the door creaked shut Leon’s hands were on Astarion’s neck. “What were you thinking? If you find out someone is your mate in this fucking family you keep your godsdamned mouth shut. This is destroying everything. Hells, I might have to convince Vic to escape if Cazador finds out about this.”

“We aren’t family,” Astarion choked out. Leon sighed and released his grip. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had one, but it’s harder than it looks to just let her go.”

“Regardless, you need to stay away from each other. I mean fuck Astarion her quarters are dripping with that stench Cazador makes you wear around,” Leon muttered. Despite the circumstance, Astarion’s heart wanted to sing at the thought of his mark being left. Of having one thing in his godsforsaken life be his.

“How is she?” He whispered.

“Not well, but she’s managing. She wanted me to check on you, even though this is your fault,” Leon spat.

“Oh come off it, Leon,” Astarion hissed.

“You know what? I don’t care. Bath is over there, scrub out the scent she left on you. The bite is simply the struggle of a rat if anyone asks,” Leon huffed and turned to leave. He stopped at the door and looked back to Astarion with a glimmer of worry. “He’s back.”

Cazador’s eyes shot to your wrist as he entered his quarters. Leon had bandaged it well enough, but it looked out of place with your pastel blue and pretty much translucent nightgown. He sat down on the bed and dragged you into his lap, his hands having a bruising grip on your arms as he lifted your wrist to his nose. “Tch. My treasure, what have I told you about suicide attempts? They’re futile. And you’ve made poor Leon take time out of his day to remedy you.”

“I’m sorry my lord… I just-“ he yanked you closer and you had to hold back a panicked yelp.

“Just what? After everything I give you. Privileges to the grounds, privileges to me, a luxurious room to sleep in. And what do I get in return? Another case to cover up for the Grand Duke? I won’t stand for it.” He pushed your face down into the bed with the palm of his hand. With a snap of his fingers, Godey entered the room within 30 seconds flat. “Have your fun with her, I need to speak with Leon about why he didn’t tell me sooner,” he spat. He leaned down and placed a tender yet warning kiss under your ear that made your stomach turn, “I’ll be back later toy. Hopefully this proves to be a good lesson,” he whispered. He gave your hair a few more sickeningly thoughtful strokes and exited the room, locking the door behind him.

“You never learn do you, girl. That’s alright, Godey will help with that,” you could hear his awful excitement. And with the first blow to your ribs, you could only think one word. Help.

Astarion finished his scrubbing; something which actually always felt kind of good after centuries of feeling filthy. He eyed the bite mark on his wrist and his lips formed into a small smile. He wasn’t lying when he said he would live for you now, something that surprised even him. He traced his thumb over the puckered wounds and felt a shiver run through him.

After getting dressed he touched up his unpulsing points with his perfume, glancing around the ‘favored spawn quarters’. He scowled to himself. Some lot they think they are, he thought. He whirled around at the slamming open of the door to see Cazador, a fury blazing unmatched in his glowing blood red eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing in here boy?” Cazador growled. He roughly grabbed Astarion’s shoulders to straighten his back. “And I’ve told you for years to stop slou-“ his voice cut off as he made eye contact with Astarion’s wrist. The same spot your injury was in. Astarion did his best to look indifferent.

“One of the rats got extra frisky last night,” he mumbled. Cazador yanked his jaw up to look at him.

“Only speak when spoken to.” The words sounded deathly calm, as if the man — monster rather — would snap in two at a moment’s notice. He pushed Astarion’s jaw to the side on release to push him off balance. “I don’t have time for this.” And just like that, Cazador had unusually left without punishment.

That’s when Astarion felt it. The thought. Help. His senses became fully alert, where could you be? Should he even help or would he make it worse? After years and years of self survival, of selfishness, he made up his mind and thundered through the castle and up the stairs. Upon reaching your bedroom door he started shouting, “There once was a cleric of Gond, who was cursed with a very small wand…”

After quite a few health potions and 3 days, Astarion’s ankles finally felt good enough to walk around and work again. If one could even call it work. He was sat at a table with half elf named Daimond (Why does he even remember the names anymore? He asked himself.), twirling his silver locks and speaking in low sultry tones.

“I actually work over at Sorcerous Sundries. I’m trying to get a spot next to Lorroakan himself,” the half-elf smiled, a blush dusting his cheeks.

“Ah, a wizard. Not often that I see a particularly talented one in the heart of the city,” Astarion said as he took a sip of his wine, wiping a stray dribble with his thumb, forming his lips into a pout, “A spot next to Lorroakan you say? I guess that means you should be very good with your wand?”

The half-elf’s eyes widened, a bashful laugh echoing throughout Astarion’s ears. “Maybe later tonight I could show you.”

Astarion held back a gag and a grimace, breaking eye contact for a fraction of a second. In that fraction, he could swear he saw wine red eyes and a navy blue gown. He regained his composure quickly and whispered, “Sounds like a deal, darling.” He pressed a kiss to Dammon’s? Demon’s? No that can’t be right. Damien’s neck, which made him elicit a giggle.

Okay he was definitely going crazy. His chest lurched as he smelled roses and vanilla, and saw you sitting at a secluded table away from the crowd, your navy blue gown cascading onto the floor as you drank a small goblet of wine. He felt a tug at his fingers.

“Well get up silly, we don’t have all night,” Diamond (?) said with a soft grin, angling his head towards the entrance. Astarion placed a hand over his.

“I just remembered, a good friend of mine needs to meet with me for a case. Typical magistrate work,” he smiled, every one of his limbs screaming to go to you.

“Oh…. Well, how about in 3 days time we meet back here? I enjoy your company Astarion,” the half-elf said, his smile outweighing the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“We will make it so my sweet,” Astarion chirped, “I’m afraid I must go. Good luck with your position!” He bolted up and practically ran to you, grabbing your cheeks and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

His veins sang, his heart felt like it was beating, everything felt right. You were back in his arms once more. You pulled away after releasing a soft moan, taking his pale hands in yours and squeezing them.

“I want to leave, Astarion. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Astarion uttered; he wasn’t ready. You couldn’t possibly be ready.

You pressed a kiss to each of his cheekbones and then one more to the bite mark on his wrist.

“Tonight.”

Taglist:

@amefuyuu @simpytheshrimpy69 @savagemickey03 @axolotl-of-evil @skittleabyss

@strangerfansxlpr @gobbodoggo

#fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #bg3 #18+ content #astarion ancunin #alternate universe #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 smut #soulmates #slow burn #bg3 romance #18+ only

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the-really-lonely-mountain · 4 months

Text

Along for The Ride - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. With this first installment, we are following the first movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling in love with Kili on the way! Slow burn with this one y'all, nothing spicy till the next work I'm afraid.

Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), wrote this while I had covid, in like 4 days lol, implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien)

Word Count: 6,292

A/N: I was utterly appalled by the lack of Kili writers on here and Ao3. Y'all who write for Kili, I've been eating your crumbs like it's the shit (cause it is) for weeks, but one can't be sustained on crumbs alone so I've prepared a feast!! This is the first fic I've ever wanted to post, please be gentle. Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are loved and treasured!!

Tagging the amazing Kili writers I've been living off of for the past few weeks and who have inspired me so they might share in the feast as well lol go check out their stuff too: @mikathemonster, @cowboybeepboop, @littleenglishfangirl, @ethereal-inquisitor, @sweetpeakili

Photo credit: @immawriteyouthings

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

You were having one of those days that made you want to run away from everything. Instead, you walked on the golf course behind your house after hours; no phone, no umbrella, no bag this time, just you. You had what you could fit from your hands in your jean pockets as you walked the grassy field. Something twinkled and caught your eye on the far side of the fairway, there was a sparkle in the ferns. You walked over and began looking through the underbrush. Your hand grazed a smooth stick with a mangled end that encased a gem. You picked it up hoping for a better look but were transported to another world instead!

You appeared in the new world holding the staff. You were standing beside an older fellow with a pointy hat and long grey beard. You looked around and saw many other gruff, burly-looking men sitting in an encampment. They looked as confused as you. You did the only thing you could think of doing at that moment.

You turned around and took off running as fast as you could.

The wizard whose staff you were running away with asked the younger dwarves in his company to fetch you for him. They ran after you as quick as the wind. You dodged trees and hurdled bushes, making an all-around great effort. You were slowing down though. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and plan. A twig snapped in the distance; quick footsteps closed in on you. You took off again. You needed a place to hide, a moment to think for God's sake. You were afforded no such luxuries. They were gaining, you were tiring. In your drained haste, you tripped on a bush which sent you stumbling and struggling to regain your footing given your momentum. You finally fell and scampered to take cover behind the roots of a great tree. Their footfalls grew slower and drew nearer. They were so close you could hear their words now.

“…She’s hiding, Fili,” one said much closer than you expected them to be.

You tried your best to steady your breathing. Your heartbeat was so loud you knew they could hear it.

“Stop scaring her Kili,” The other chastised. “You know she’s got to be scared half to death”. He walked past you, studying the ground. The other came up the other side of the tree doing the same.

You gripped the staff preparing yourself to be found. They turned in unison following the same tracks and looked up at you simultaneously. They were both panting but not as hard as you. Fili, the elder and more experienced of the two knelt where he stood a few yards from your curled trembling form.

“My name is Fili” He put his hand on his chest and motioned to the man next to him, “This is my brother Kili. We mean no harm to you.” He kept his distance and showed his empty hands. You stayed firmly pressed against the tree trunk, your chest heaving rapidly and your eyes as large as saucers. They could have tackled you, beaten you, or done any number of terrible violating things, but they kept their distance and spoke softly.

“What’s your name?” Kili asked, with a charming smile as he crouched beside his brother.

“Y/N,” you said in a shaky freaked-out tone.

“Y/N, that’s our friend wizard’s staff,” Fili said, “If anyone can figure out how you got here, he can.”

“But you gotta come back to camp with us,” Kili said reaching out his hand as a peace offering. So many horrible things could happen to you in the wild of this new world, but even more on top of that could if you didn’t go with them.

“How can I trust you?” You asked them. They looked at each other.

“How can we trust you?” Kili threw back at you with a suspicious look and recoiled his hand.

“Touche” you nodded returning his look.

“Seems we are at an impasse then,” Fili huffed at his brother, “You want to get home, and our wizard can do that. The only way that can happen is if you come with us back to our camp. We can only offer you our word and promise on our honor as dwarven princes that you will not be harmed by any in our company.”

You thought for a moment and nibbled at your lip, “You promise?” you looked up at Kili this time.

Kili looked you deep in the eyes, and very seriously said: “No harm will ever come to you, on my honor as a prince.”

You nodded at this, “Very well”, and tried to stand up but were stuck against the tree. The 2 men easily lifted you back to your feet. You followed them back to the camp.

You tried your best to hide behind Kili as you approached the wizard smoking a pipe. You peeked from around his shoulder at the other men in the camp. They were looking at you.

“Please sit, my dear,” The wizard said to you, motioning to the rest of the long log beside him “We have much to discuss.”

Your legs wouldn’t move you from behind the dwarf. You were still quite afraid.

“She seems to have taken a liking to you Kili,” the wizard said to him. The rest of the company let out a soft chuckle of agreement. You couldn’t see it from your angle, but Kili smiled and nodded.

“Sit down child, we aren’t going to hurt you,” One of the dwarves sitting across the fire said. You took a deep breath to gather your courage. One false move by any of the others would have you bolting again.

You moved from behind Kili and sat beside the wizard still clutching the staff.

“May I take that from you?” the wizard politely asked. You handed it to him. He explained how this type of thing had happened to a couple of his wizard friends before, but he didn’t know the remedy or spell to undo it or how to prevent it from happening again. You sat quietly listening and nodding. He explained to you and the rest of the company that he was leaving to travel to his friend and inquire about your predicament. In the meantime, he convinced the company and its leader, Thorin you came to know, to keep you in the company as an innocent bystander to help around the camp and whatnot till Gandalf (the wizard) could figure out what to do with you. Gandalf gave you a small sack of coins, instructing you to get a bag, a bedroll, clothes, and any other necessities you’ll need at the next town.

As the fire died down so did the company. They got out their bedrolls and sleeping gear like a synchronized unit and as quickly as they started, they were all asleep snoring softly. Kili had first watch and was sitting on the ground next to you leaning against the log you were on. You slid onto the ground next to him curled with your knees to your chest. He looked over at you. You looked over at him.

“I don’t know what to do now,” you said not hiding the waver in your voice very well, “I’m so scared.” You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You cried into your hands as quietly as possible, so you didn’t disturb and anger the others. If you had looked at Kili, you would have seen him in a slight panic and at a loss for what to do, he didn’t know how to console crying women. You sobbed into your hands knowing you just needed to let it all out then you’d be fine. Kili looked at the fire and put his hand on your back. Physical contact of any kind back home was next to nonexistent, it felt nice to know he was trying his best to comfort you. After a few minutes of uncontrollable sobbing and hiccups wracking through you, you began calming down. When you were able to breathe properly, you wiped your face even though tears kept falling. You sniffled and rested your chin on your knees letting the tears fall silently now.

“Do you feel better?” Kili guessed in a soft tone and rubbed his hand on your back.

You nodded at him, “Yes” You took a deep breath and wiped the tears from your eyes as best you could, “Thank you” You looked at him and smiled a little. He smiled and nodded too, still concerned but returned his hand to his lap. You sniffled and looked at the fire.

“Really though I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said. “I’ve never been camping before,” you paused to think. “I don’t know how to fight or use a sword or make a fire or hunt or-or—” You were working yourself up and starting to cry again. Kili cut you off before you could start sobbing hysterically again.

“WOAH! Woah!!” alarmed, he put his hand on your back again, “It’s ok. Calm down.” he said harshly, “Take a deep breath, that seemed to help last time,” He mumbled the last part under his breath. That made you smile despite yourself.

“You don’t know how to console someone, do you?” You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes. He shook his head and took his hand from you. “Seems we’re both out of our depth then,” you said making the mood a bit lighter.

“In my defense, I was raised in a pack of manly men,” He smiled fondly “It’s a wonder my mother got through to me at all.”

“So, you do have a mother,” you said, making him look at you quizzically “I assumed you were raised by wolves,” You shrugged. He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re not completely wrong about that,” He smiled, looking over at the men across the fire. There was a momentary silence. “We’ll teach you those things, how to fight, how to make a fire, all that,” He looked over at you, “I mean who knows how long Gandalf will be, and you’d have to be pretty stupid not to pick up a thing or two even from this bunch.” You smiled and nodded; this calmed your nerves a little. A moment of silence fell between you again.

“Is it ok if I stay up with you?” you innocently asked, “I’m not very tired.”

“Sure,” he said casually, “May I ask about your life back in your world?”

“OK,” You nodded.

“What do you do?” he asked, you gave him a weird look. “Like for a living, how do you make money, how do you spend your days?”

“I’m a student at university at the moment.” He looked at you confused this time. “I spend my days studying at a desk, it’s boring and dull” You quickly summed up.

“Ooohh,” He said, “No wonder you couldn’t run for shit,” He laughed.

You scoffed, “So rude,” You huffed, failing to hide your smile. He was glad you were cheering up a bit.

“If it’s so boring and dull, why don’t you do something else?” He asked, naive to your world and its ways.

“It’s…complicated” you sighed “I have to study to do what I want to do for work even though I don’t want to work or study or do any of that, but I have to make money somehow because I need money to do stuff and buy things because the world I live in is shitty that way and it’s so frustrating sometimes,” you gritted your teeth to make your point.

“Well, what do you want to do then?” he asked, trying to understand your strange world.

“Sit on the beach,” You said without hesitation “…Listen to the waves…sleep on a blanket in the sun,” you sighed wistfully. “Die happy and rich.”

“That does sound nice” He agreed “I’ve never seen a tropical ocean before, the seas near the Blue Mountains are all frozen over.”

“Surely there’s a beach somewhere in this world,” You refused to believe the universe sent you to a world without a beach.

“There is! I’ve heard stories of Southern Gondor, where the sun makes the sand hotter than forges, and the water falls over the horizon in every direction.”

“That sounds like the beaches from back home,” You felt a little bad for him. You’d been practically raised at the beach because it was the only free thing to do in your hometown.

“May I ask a question?” you asked this time.

“Of course,” He shifted to lean against the log and face you.

“What are you guys doing?” you gestured to the camp around you.

“We are on a quest!” He said proudly, “A quest to take back our ancestral home from the dread dragon Smaug,” he said in a sinister voice. He explained about Erebor and the dragon and Thorin to catch you up. You listened, nodded, and took it all in, asking questions and giggling at his jokes. He was a decent storyteller.

“And I’m just along for the ride I guess,” you said deflated about your role in all this.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re quite good company,” He indulged; Kili always got so lonely on watch.

“Yay!” you said over a yawn, “I’d hate to bore any of you,” you replied, genuinely fearing your stories may never measure up to theirs. You leaned over and laid on the soft grass, curled in a ball with your arm as a pillow. You tried not to shiver from the cool evening breeze. You heard some shuffling of fabric, and then a blanket fluttered on top of you. You looked at Kili who smiled and said: “I’m quite the furnace at night, I’ll be fine without it,” he reassured.

“Thank you,” you said over another yawn. You didn’t expect to fall asleep but the next thing you knew it was early morning and you were awoken by the clanging of pots and spoons. You sat up and looked around to get your bearings.

‘Still in the same strange world’ you thought not fully awake. Kili appeared, greeted you good morning, and handed you a bowl of white goo he called porridge. You thanked him and ate your breakfast in silence like the rest of the company. While the men packed up the camp you were tasked with washing the dishes in a nearby stream. You were struck by the beauty of the incredible woods around you even in the dim morning light. You returned to camp and put the dishes in their bag, which was taken by one of your new companions. You felt out of place without a task among everyone who knew what to do. Balin saw you standing in the middle of the camp looking lost. He asked Thorin what they were to do about their lack of an extra pony for you. They decided you could ride with Kili seeing as he was the lightest (next to Bilbo) and his pony could take the weight and because you seemed the most comfortable with him. The old dwarf with a white-grey beard curled up at the ends approached you with as much of a nonthreatening air as he could muster.

“Good morning, my dear!” He greeted you with a chipper smile. “My name is Balin”

“Good morning,” you replied. “I don't quite know what I’m to be doing,” you said sheepishly.

“That’s ok lass, it’ll come with time,” he reassured, “For now, you’ll ride with Kili so you can see if he needs help getting ready.”

“Ok,” You nodded and started walking in Kili’s direction. You stopped in front of his pony and petted its nose and down its neck. “I’ve been told that I’m to ride with you,” you said timidly looking at him adjust his saddle. Kili looked at you and nodded.

“I’ll be happy to have a lovely conversation again” He smiled and looked back at his saddle, making the final arrangements.

He turned to you and said, “I’ll give you a leg up,” And jabbed a thumb at his pony. You nodded and approached the animal. You put your hands on the ponies back and bent your leg waiting for him to help. He leaned forward so he could whisper in your ear: “Wrong leg”. You blushed quite profusely at that and switched legs. He heaved you with such strength he nearly threw you over the other side of the pony. You made yourself comfortable behind the saddle before he hooked his foot in the stirrup and carefully mounted so he didn’t knock you off.

“You ok?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yep!” you smiled. He nodded. You were excited to see new lands even though you feared what they harbored.

“If you need to hold on to me when we get going you can,” he said, making you both blush despite yourselves.

A few moments later Thorin called out: “Company ready?” in a deep booming voice, “Aye!” They all replied in unison. “Company, move out!” He bellowed and urged his pony forward. The rest followed behind him one by one. When your animal lurched forward you grabbed Kili's waist for dear life. The company was silent till they got to the end of the forest. You had your cheek pressed against Kili’s shoulder and your chest against his back. The fur of his coat was very soft against your face as you turned your head to look over his other shoulder. You yawned but didn’t realize you did it right next to his ear and breathed down his neck. He determinedly kept his eyes on the pony ahead of him to keep the blush rising in his chest at bay.

“You can take a nap if you need to,” he said over his shoulder in a soft voice for only you to hear.

“That sounds like a good idea,” You yawned again. You buried your face in the soft spare fabric of the hood on his back and cuddled closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and sleep swiftly took you. He knew this because he could feel your breathing slow on the back of his neck. He was happy you could sleep and couldn’t help his smile. You shifted now and then, turning your head one way then a while later turning it the other. Kili tried not to talk or move too much in fear of waking your delicate slumber. By midday, you felt very well rested. You took a deep breath and released your grasp on Kili to stretch your arms above your head, arching your back to wake yourself up. You quickly slipped your arms around him again, so you didn’t fall.

“Good morning!” He chirped, “Well afternoon really,” he corrected with a smile, “Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” You hummed against his shoulder “I haven’t slept that well in a long time,” you said thinking back on the restless weeks before your arrival in Middle Earth.

“Good,” He nodded. “Happy I could be of service.”

“Yes, you make quite the comfortable bed,” you replied.

An easy silence settled between you for a while. You contentedly watched the landscape pass by while he kept the pony on the path.

“What’s a good weapon for a beginner?” You asked knowing you needed to start wrapping your head around the fact that you could be stuck here forever and needed to protect yourself. He thought about that for a few moments.

“I’d have to say a bow,” He shrugged, “I don’t know honestly, lemme ask Fili,” he kicked up his pony to walk faster to be next to his brother. “What is the best weapon for a beginner?” He asked him. Fili glanced at you and thought for a moment.

“Hmm I think a sword would be easiest,” He replied, contradicting his brother.

“A sword?!” Kili said incredulously “No that’s one of the harder ones,” He swatted his hand as if to swipe the words from the air.

Fili scoffed “For you maybe,” he said barely keeping his teasing smile under control “But not to the rest of us, my weapon-challenged brother.” That made you giggle. Kili huffed and pulled his horse back, so he wasn’t beside his brother anymore.

“Are you that bad with a sword?” you asked, trying not to laugh too much.

“No!” he exclaimed, “I’m just better with a bow and arrows,” he pouted.

‘Awe he’s so cute when he pouts’ Your thought took you by surprise.

“Perhaps you can teach me, Archer,” Your voice was lower than you intended, making you both blush. Your breath ghosted over his ear making him shiver just a little. He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, his face so close to yours. He looked at your lips then deep into your eyes holding eye contact.

“Maybe I will,” he said in a deep gruff whisper that made you gasp and goosebumps rush over your skin. He turned back and smiled; proud he could get a rise out of you. You huffed and distanced yourself from him by leaning back, needing the space to calm down.

As night drew closer, Thorin led the company to the edge of a forest and found a shallow cave, more like a cliff overhang to make camp for the night. He told Fili and Kili to take care of the ponies and Oin and Gloin to make the fire. After the meals had been handed out Thorin told you to take Fili and Kili a bowl. You walked through the forest and found them looking at a downed tree in panicked awe.

“Something took 4 of the ponies,” Fili said to you, hoping you’d have the answer to their predicament.

“Yes, and…” you nodded at them trying not to panic yourself “What are you going to do about it since it’s your problem?”

The brothers decided to see what took the ponies and if they could handle it themselves, no need to worry Thorin, right? You followed them as they tracked the pony-nappers. Kili hid behind a tree and peeked around, you hid behind him and peeked over his shoulder. 3 large trolls were something to worry about, and a sight that made that dreadful feeling drop from your chest into your stomach. Your grip on Kili’s coat tightened.

He turned to you and said in barely a whisper, “Go back to camp and tell Thorin”.

Fili was immediately against it, huffing and puffing from behind his tree. Kili shrugged and motioned with hands as if to say, ‘What else would you have us do?!’ Fili huffed again and snuck around the tree. He tried to cut the rope fence with his sword, but he took too long. The trolls caught him. They were deciding ways to eat him when Kili looked at you in alarm and told you to go back to camp. You ran as fast as you could.

“Ponies! Big grey troll things took the ponies!” You said out of breath pointing the way you just came “Fili…in…danger”. Thorin cursed in dwarfish and rallied the company. Balin told you to keep your distance, so you didn’t get caught in the fight.

The dwarves fought bravely but were captured. Bilbo bid for more time while you thought of a plan. You heard the trolls complain about daylight coming and that gave you an idea. You saw the trolls had made camp in the shade cast by a large boulder. You wedged a branch under the rock and used the leverage to try to roll it. It was very heavy, and you were not. It took everything in your power to push the branch to roll the boulder down the ditch edge it rested on. The trolls were washed in sunlight, turning them to stone and freeing the company. They cheered when you stepped over the branch and into the clearing. You helped them from their confines and smiled and blushed when they praised your good job.

Back at camp the company gathered their things and discussed what to do now. Fili suddenly hushed the company.

“Warg howls in the distance,” He whispered to Thorin “They are coming!”

“RUN!” Thorin yelled at the company. Following Thorin everyone started running. You all ran as fast as you could onto a hilly plane sprinkled with trees and boulders. You ran and ran till the Wargs finally caught up. They began to encircle you. The company fought the beasts, taking them down as still more came at them. You went to hide behind the rock formation but fell into it instead. You climbed out as the Wargs were closing in.

“Down here!” you called “There’s a passage this way!” you slid down to make room for the others. Thorin was the last one, as he slid down a horn was blown near the entrance to the passage.

“I can’t see where it leads, do we follow?” One of the dwarves asked.

“Yes! We follow!” Thorin barged through the dwarves and led the company through the narrow pass. You all walked for a few minutes, but then Thorin rounded a corner and slowed as he realized where he’d unwittingly led the company. The rest kept walking around him, but Bilbo stopped and said in admiration: “Rivendell”. You stopped as well to take in the view before you. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. A small town on the side of a mountain with water flowing from beneath some of the glittering structures.

As Thorin led the company over a bridge, you grabbed Kili’s arm to steady yourself as you looked around and took in the ornate statues and architecture of the front steps of a large building. A man much taller than you or the dwarves approached the group.

“We would like to speak to Lord Elrond,” Thorin said through gritted teeth. He was swallowing his pride for the betterment of the quest, that much was clear through his clenched fists and tense shoulders.

“Lord Elrond isn’t here,” The elf said regretfully.

“Then where is he?” Thorin’s patience was growing thin. A horn was sounded on the other side of the bridge you’d just crossed. Everyone turned to see a group of horses galloping towards them. The dwarves began shouting in dwarfish and closing ranks with their weapons ready for battle. You were pushed into the very center of the circle as tall horses and riders circled you. They stopped suddenly and the one on a black horse dismounted.

“My Lord Elrond,” The elf who first approached you said with a bow.

“Lindir” Elrond bowed his head at him then turned to the leader of your group, “Welcome Thorin son of Thrain,” He looked over the dwarf “You have your grandfather's bearings.”

“I’m afraid I know you only from the stories my grandfather told me,” Thorin was doing his best to be polite. (You were later informed that the stories were mostly about him being a ninny.)

“I’d like to offer you and your company a taste of our elfish hospitality,” Elrond said with a warm smile.

“Does that mean we’ll eat?!” Bombur called from the back. The company chuckled at him.

“Yes Bombur, that means we’ll eat” Dori replied. The company cheered at the prospect of a full belly and a warm hearth.

Not long after, you were sat next to Bilbo and Kili at a large table. The salad appetizers were very good despite the dwarves not liking green food very much. You giggled at their jokes about how bad the music was or how they wanted chips and meat. Thorin was sat at another table across from Elrond discussing something you couldn’t hear, but you could tell it pained Thorin to be in the other man's presence.

You turned to Kili beside you. “Thorin looks constipated,” you said in a low voice barely containing your laughter “He can’t even pretend to be enjoying this”. Kili looked over at his uncle and laughed with you.

When the meals were served there was boisterous laughter and general dwarfish shenanigans, the usual at any merry dwarfish gathering. Bilbo looked like he was having PTSD from when they were doing the same at his house at the beginning of the quest. At the end of the meal, Thorin and Balin disappeared with Elrond to discuss a map. You asked Kili if he would escort you to the markets with as much innocent girlish need as you could muster to solidify your security. He agreed and walked with you through the corridors and to the market. He helped you get a fair price on a bag, a blanket, and a bedroll. The next thing you needed was clothes to blend in.

“What do the women around here wear exactly?” You asked him. He shrugged.

“It depends, I guess” He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he followed you around the clothing stalls like a puppy.

“Gee, that’s a big help.” You teased.

After some more wandering you found a stall selling clothes that looked your size. You purchased a dark blue form-fitting tunic that stopped above your knees and had slits on the sides that went up to your hips. It paired very nicely with the brown pants and brown coat with dark blue highlights you bought as well. Kili helped barter with the merchants since you didn’t know the fair price of things here. In another section of the market, you bought spools of black, blue, and pink thread. You put your belongings in your new bag.

“Are we done?” Kili asked, sounding slightly annoyed. He was ready to go back to the others and be away from so many elves. You sighed and rolled your eyes playfully and nodded. He led you through the busy crowded markets by holding your hand. You were thankful he was in front of you so he couldn’t see your blush. You made it back to the group, who had set up camp in a courtyard garden at the end of a hallway. Just as you arrived two female and two male elves came down the hallway.

One of the males stepped forward, “The bathhouse is ready for you now” he said to the group.

“Bath?! We don’t need no stinkin’ bath!” Exclaimed a dwarf from behind the fire. The rest heartily agreed, not ready to drop their pants on elvish soil it seemed.

“I’d like a bath” you timidly said, not wanting to make a fuss but very much wanting to be clean.

“Very good mistress dwarf, if you’ll follow us,” one of the female elves said. You were tense as you followed the four elves down the corridor, not sure what you were doing.

“You best go with her lad,” Dori said to Kili, “You never know what an elf might try to pull.” He glared at the back of the elves as they walked away. Kili nodded and ran after you.

“Y/N!” He called making you and the elves stop.

“Oh, change your mind, Kili?” You asked with an innocent smile, happy to have his company.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He smiled too.

You were led to a large door that opened into a covered hot spring that flowed over the balcony to create an assumably gorgeous waterfall. Columns lined the outer edge of the room which was split down the middle by a cloth partition. The male elves walked to one side of the divider with Kili in tow, while the females walked to the other. The elves asked that you wash under the heated shower of water off to the side before entering the hot springs. They left you to your own devices.

“I’ve never seen anything like this have you?” You asked Kili across the large room.

“No” He smiled at the wonder in your voice from seeing new things and making discoveries. He thought it was very cute.

You placed your bag and new clothes on the vanity in the corner. You undressed and stepped under the warm shower. You used the bar of soap you found to wash your hair and body. It was the best-smelling soap you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“Hey, Kee?” You hollered.

“Yeah?” He yelled back.

“Do you plan on keeping your soap?”

“No…Why?”

“I’ll take it then. I’ll need extra anyway,” And you were so happy you did. That soap made your hair silky smooth and stronger than ever. You rinsed the suds away then stepped into the hot springs.

It felt luxurious. You couldn’t help but moan a little as the heat pulled every knot and tense muscle from you. Relaxed, you floated in the steamy water.

“You still there Kili?” you asked suddenly nervous he’d left you.

“Yeah, I’m here” He replied, “We shouldn’t take too much longer though, Thorin could be back any minute and who knows what kind of a mood he’ll be in.”

That made you enjoy the bath a little faster. Not long after you began drying off and getting dressed. You took the hairbrush and beads and other miscellaneous hair trinkets that were on the vanity. You looked in the mirror at your new outfit. It fit as you thought, though a little snugger in some places than others, hugging your curves to allow for movement yet still baggy for breathability and insulation. Overall, a nice ensemble.

“Ready Y/N?” Kili asked from across the partition.

“Yeah, you can come over, I’m just packing my things.” You replied, folding your old clothes, and putting them in your bag with the rest of your things.

“Here’s the soap” He handed it to you.

“Thanks!” You smiled at him; you simply wrote his flushed cheeks off to the hot water. When you stood, he was able to get a much better look at you in your new clothes.

“A perfect fit I see” He smiled, looking you up and down. He couldn’t help but imagine what you’d look like wearing nothing but his tunic. A line of thought he blushed at and quickly willed away.

“Does it look alright? I don’t know how it’s supposed to fit” You fussed with the hems and the folds trying to make them lay better. He grabbed your hand to make you stop fidgeting.

“You look great,” he said with a genuine smile. You smiled and nodded your appreciation.

You walked back to camp, making moneyless bets on what mood Thorin would be in when he returned.

As you approached Fili saw you in your new outfit and said, “Well look at this…” Making the rest of the company look at you too, “Our wee lass looks like a bona fide middle earther now!” They cheered at your near-complete indoctrination.

“Now she just needs to learn how to fight like one.” Bofur quipped from beside the fire.

“Then I wouldn’t need any of you to protect me!” You put the back of your hand to your forehead feigning a damsel in distress, making the company laugh. You sat on the ground beside the long chair Kili was now examining his weapons in and leaned against it. You held out a stone fish figurine to him.

“As a thank you for helping me” you cleared your throat “…And for being my friend.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you knew he was smiling a little around his reed pipe. He took it from your open hands. You know it wasn’t much but it’s all you could offer.

“Maybe one day you can return it to the ocean,” you said, referring to your previous conversation.

“Maybe I will,” he smiled down at you with genuine fondness.

“Bombur!” Bofur called before throwing a sausage to his cousin. The table, which took skilled elfin craftsman months, even years to craft and carve out of solid wood, collapsed under the massive weight of Bombur. Everyone erupted in laughter, it was nice to be part of the group and share in the merriment.

Thorin stopped Balin on their way back to the camp, “We should leave her here,” He said, “She is a liability.”

Balin had a terrible sinking feeling in his round tummy when he thought of splitting you up.

“So what if she is, Thorin?” Balin said near pleading. “Have you ever seen your nephew that happy or open with a girl that quick before? I’ve never seen the lad so engaged in a conversation that didn’t have to do with weapons before last night. So what if she dies on our quest, at least we gave them a chance to happen, and if fate finds their pairing favorable it will all work out!” Balin was desperate to keep you and the young prince together if only to keep the sinking feeling at bay.

Thorin huffed, “Very well, but her blood is not on my hands,” He walked away and into the camp.

Thorin and Balin returned, and the tone became slightly more serious—slightly. The company settled and laid their bedrolls in the grassy parts of the garden. You laid yours out as well and prepped for sleep by removing your shoes and coat. The night was warm enough that your blanket would suffice. You looked up at the stars wondering if any of the constellations were the same as back home. You cuddled your coat to your chest relishing the feel of the soft fabric. The low conversation between Fili and Kili, while they sat on watch across the fire, lulled you to sleep.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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bendeddicksssss · 18 days

Text

The Ghost of Family Video

The first chapter of one of my fanfics on ao3 just to give a little sneak peak.

Summary in the shortest amount of words: Steve died after the events of Starcourt, and Eddie is a psychic who can see ghosts. I think you can guess what the fic is about ;)

Chapter 1: Steve Harrington is Dead

Robin Buckley started working at Scoops Ahoy for the same reason every other teen gets a job; she wanted money. Her parents were never the type to ask her to help with the bills, nor did they ever ask her to get a job, but she enjoyed having money stored up for college and emergencies. It was cushioning for both her and her parents if they ever needed it, and, with her brother at college, they needed all the help they could get. She had a job before–started working the ticket stand at Hawkins old theater when she was 15. She was 17, however, when she started working at Scoops Ahoy—working with Steve Harrington.

Robin never had a job that didn’t include a coworker, but Steve was an entirely different concept. He didn’t feel like a coworker, even if they did work together. He felt like an entity more elusive than Bigfoot. She hated Steve, but she didn’t hate him in a normal sense. She hated him because he made her heart grow heavy with comfort, despite the fact that he was a homophobic, dick-bag of a jock. At least, that’s what Robin assumed when they started working together. Steve proved her assumptions wrong within the first week of working together. He brought back coffee whenever he went on his break. He offered his extra breaks to Robin if she looked tired. He insisted on taking in all the heavy stock, and he never let Robin pay for her own dinner or lunch if she forgot to pack one. Even then, she hated him.

She hated him like the ocean hates the beach. They were stuck in a constant battle of one metaphorically crashing into the other, but, in a strange way, it worked. Each crash of a wave chipped at the other person’s sandy shore, letting out pieces of shells and hidden creatures in the tide pools. Each wave was a new discovery about who the other person really was. They were the ocean against the beach. Waves in the sand. Forever connected. Steve and Robin.

That feeling within their “friendship” was even before all hell broke loose and before Robin knew Russian spies hid beneath the mall and monsters worse than the ones under her bed were real. Even with their mutual teasing and stormy beaches, no one could deny that Steve and Robin were connected. No one could deny that they were, at least, friends. Robin tried to deny it. If anyone asked, she’d tell them that Steve was just another schmuck she was stuck slinging ice cream with. A rich kid who was forced into a job by his snooty parents. He was nothing to her, but she was only lying when she said that. Steve wasn’t nothing. He wasn’t nothing at all.

Steve was a walking puzzle missing half the pieces and the guiding picture, yet Robin tried her hardest to figure him out. It was impossible. He was a mystery confusing enough to stump Sherlock. He flinched at flickering lights and dissociated in the cold freezer where they stored ice cream. He kept a baseball bat in the trunk of his car that Robin had only ever seen the handle of, which had a small brown stain on it—one that looked suspiciously like blood. In an expected fashion, he teased Robin about still being in high school, calling her “Freshman” with every other sentence despite the fact that she was on her way to her senior year. Strangest of all, he refused to let Robin ride her bike home after the closing shift; she rode with him nearly every day with her bike in the backseat of his car. Eventually, he started picking her up to be taken to work too. It wasn’t even a conversation between them; he just showed up while Robin was dragging her bike down her driveway. She didn’t try to argue, seeing the dark bags under his eyes and the silent begging within them—a look built more of fear than desperation. She couldn’t have said no even if she tried. Besides, who was she to turn down a free ride?

Steve also had a pack of kids who followed him like ducklings to their imprinted mother. “I babysit them.” He always used it as an excuse, but that never made sense to Robin. To start off, she knew for a fact that Scoops was Steve’s first job. He never mentioned being a babysitter until they started showing up. She also knew that most of the kids have older siblings. Growing up with an older brother, Robin knew that older siblings are usually stuck with the babysitting job. Max Mayfield, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler–they all had older siblings. Why would their parents waste the money in hiring Steve? Moreso, why, out of all the high school students in Hawkins, would they choose Steve to babysit? He was a jock known for getting drunk at parties and flirting with everything with boobs. He didn’t exactly scream babysitting material.

Outside of his role as “Mama Duck”, Steve was also friends with Jonathan Byers, even though the man was known around school for stealing ‘King Steve’s’ girlfriend. In fact, Steve’s face lit up like a Christmas tree the few times Jon came into shop, even when the boy was there without his younger brother or any of the other children.

Despite her initial shock, Robin could handle these discoveries and odd traits. She could handle Steve being friends with a few kids and with Jonathan Byers, but there was a fact about Steve Harrington that stood out above the rest. The most surprising thing about Steve was that he wasn’t, at all, what Robin thought he’d be. He wasn’t a douchebag. He wasn’t a ‘womanizer’, like her friend, Kate, would always call him. Sure, Steve flirted with everything and anyone that breathed, but he was always respectful. He made eye contact and complemented their hair or their smile. He was even nicer with the customers without boobs, complimenting them even if he wasn’t trying to get laid. Steve Harrington wasn’t Steve Harrington. He was just… Steve. Her coworker. Her friend. Her puzzle that she spent the first half of that summer trying to figure out.

It wasn’t until she saw a monster bigger than her house that she discovered all the missing pieces of Steve. Why he flinched at flickering lights and why the cold always bothered him. She figured why he prefers cats and smaller dogs to bigger ones. She figured out he was smarter than he let on, having intelligence in things besides books and school. She figured out he was selfless. He threw himself headfirst into danger to try and save a couple of kids, one of whom she was pretty sure he hated because Erica Sinclair was an asshole of a child, but he saved them. He tried to save Robin too, but Scoop's captains stick together, right? She wasn’t gonna leave him alone, and that idea scared her more than anything. Just one traumatic experience together and she was already codependent of a man whose head was more hairspray than brains.

She doesn’t know how long they were in the bunker for. All she knew was that Steve was nice to talk to. He listened, and he asked questions. She would try and urge him to talk, and he would, but she could tell he was holding back. Sure, she had all the pieces to the puzzle of Steve, but she still needed the bigger picture.

“You think they’d buy it if I pretended I could only speak French?” Robin asked when they were left alone. The guard's voices were muffled just outside the door, so she talked to drown out the few Russian words she understood– “The boy… blue… spies… bleed.”

“What?” Steve asked a few seconds after her statement.

Robin shrugged, her shoulders brushing against Steve’s, “I don’t know; it could work. I am fluent in French!” she sighed dejectedly, “I’m sorry. I’m just talking to not freak myself out. I’ll shut up.” she cleared her throat and looked to the ground, deciding that it probably wasn’t the best time to make jokes.

“Talk.” Steve suddenly urged. She looked at him. This was before they were tied back-to-back, so she could still look at him. “You don’t have to talk about them. Talk about anything… you’re gonna be a senior, right?” Robin nodded. “You want to go to college?”

Robin tilted her head. This wasn’t the first time they had talked about college, but it was the first time the focus was on Robin. In past conversations, talks about school was usually Steve making fun of Robin being in high school and Robin making fun about Steve for not going to college. “I want to go to Chicago.” Robin answered.

“The university?” Robin nodded.

“I always wanted to live in a big city; Chicago is at the top of my list.” In all honesty, ever since Robin was young, she dreamed about living in a city, but she dreamed about going west to California–Hollywood. She wanted to be a director or a writer, but Chicago seemed like an easier option. A steppingstone to get to her dream. “Honestly, I don’t want to go to college, but I think a degree would be nice to fall back on.”

“What do you want to do?”

Robin smiled, “I want to write.”

“Books? Articles?”

“Movies.” she corrected. Steve went on to ask about what kind of movies, and she talked about a few ideas she had for a romantic period piece (leaving out the sapphic details) until the door burst open. Robin had almost forgotten she was in a nightmare. She was grateful for his distraction.

When they got separated, it was like time stood still. It could’ve been hours–days–weeks–minutes–seconds, and all Robin experienced was an empty mind and a racing heart. There were no clocks and no windows. Just her tied to a chair, and Steve… Steve being tortured. Robin heard Steve’s screams from all the way down the hall. She tried humming Blondie or Queen to drown them out but each one was louder than the last. Robin liked horror movies, sure. She watched thrillers with friends and would challenge herself to not chicken out, but the actors in those films never even came close to the screams Steve was making. They were blood curdling and garbling, as he begged for his life. For a break from the pain. Robin wished she could rip her ears off. Worst of all, she felt useless! Robin heard punches and Russian voices shouting at her friend, and all she could do was listen and hope that he was still breathing. Her parents never really forced any specific religion growing up. She wasn’t sure how prayers were supposed to work, but she tried her best: Please, God, let Steve be alive. I know I don’t believe in you. You probably hate me right now, but please let this scream not be his last. Please bring him back.

Steve came back bruised and bloodied and unconscious, and Robin tried to feel for a pulse, screaming at the guards for answers. What happened? Fuck… She couldn’t find his heartbeat. Robin always sucked in anatomy class—got too grossed out by the dissections, but she knew it was somewhere on his neck… maybe the wrist? She just had to loosen her binds enough to feel for his heartbeat. She tried to reassure herself that she just had to keep looking, but she couldn’t find it! She couldn’t find his pulse and the guards were watching them, and she knew that she would be next in their sadistic crusade. They tied them back-to-back all while Robin was still panicking. When Steve took a gasp of air, she nearly added her own punch into the mix for scaring her, but the Russian guards were already moving on to the next form of torture. But, hey, Steve was alive. She wasn’t alone.

Later, they sat beside a once-empty toilet. The stench and taste of vomit lingered in Robin’s nose and throat. The Starcourt bathroom tiles were sticky and covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust. The custodians must’ve not cleaned yet, as the theater was still open and, thus, the mall was open. Her heart stopped when she heard silence coming from Steve’s stall, but he was only thinking and resting. They’d been awake for nearly 48 hours now, and Robin was just waiting for the right moment to pass out.

Coming out to Steve was almost as terrifying as the entirety of the Russian base. He had just told her he found someone for himself (implied it was her), and she told him she liked girls. It was the truth, but you can’t just tell people that! Sure, Steve was miraculously not a douchebag, but straight guys don’t always take rejection well, and people, in general, don’t always take queer people well. But she was high and scared, and she wanted someone to know before she died. Robin should’ve learned by that point to not underestimate Steve Harrington. She should’ve figured out that Steve was as far from a bad person as someone could be. Steve Harrington wasn’t a bad person at all, though his Kermit impression was kind of shit.

“I’m like you.” He told her when they had another chance alone. It was when they were driving back to the mall to help their friends, leaving Dustin and Erica on the hill.

“What?” she asked.

“When I said I found someone better for me—better than Nancy; I was talking about…” he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I was talking about a guy. His name’s Eddie.”

Robin smiled, “Oh…”

Steve’s face regained its color, and he laughed. “Yeah,” he snorted, “oh…”

Yeah, Steve wasn’t a bad person in the slightest…

He held her hand when they were hiding from the guards. He reached his arm out to hold her when he crashed into Billy Hargrove, so she wouldn’t hit the dashboard. He gave her his last firework to throw at the Flayer. He gave her a stick of gum he found hiding in his pocket when she complained about still tasting vomit. He gave her his shock blanket when she was still shaking beneath hers. He denied medical treatment and insisted they check on Robin and Dustin first. He snuck a few Band-Aids and an ice pack from the ambulance to take care of himself; Robin saw him do it, but she just assumed he had already been checked and was just grabbing extra supplies. Afterall, he told everyone that he was already checked on, “Go help someone else; I’m fine.” he insisted anytime a paramedic asked him. Ever the selfless hero… Steve.

After they were all debriefed and lightly threatened by the US government to keep their mouths shut and sign NDAs, Steve asked Jonathan if he’d be willing to drive them. “My head just hurts.” and Jonathan said sure. On the drive home, Steve was fighting off sleep in the backseat, leaning his head against Robin’s. No one could even fathom resting. Their bodies were still in fight or flight mode, ready to fight a monster that was already dead or guards that were buried beneath tons of dirt, ash, and debris. No one really questioned Steve’s exhaustion, though. They didn’t know the full story, but they knew Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Erica were trapped in that bunker for nearly days. No food. No water. No rest. Dustin and Erica passed out, afterall. Steve wasn’t the odd one out. If anything, Robin was, but she didn’t want to sleep. She just let Steve use her as a pillow.

Perhaps, she should’ve known something was wrong by him fighting off sleep so much. Robin’s not an idiot; she knows the signs of head trauma, but she was so tired. Perhaps, if she had been stronger and fought harder against the guards, she wouldn’t have gotten drugged. She would have had the mental clarity to notice one of Steve’s pupils was bigger than the other. She would’ve noticed him squinting and flinching at every light, flickering or not, and limping. Would’ve noticed he had to lean against the wall at every other step. Granted, she didn’t know if any of those things happened, but there must have been something she could’ve noticed! Something Robin could’ve seen, so she would know Steve needed help, but the man’s stubbornness was bigger than his hair, so, of course, she didn’t know.

Steve died not long after they left the mall. They had all gone to his house afterwards. No one wanted to be alone, and he had the most available space for everyone in the party. He also had a stockpile of extra clothes, blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags. Apparently, Steve really was a babysitter, or, at the very least, the kids’ honorary mother. After helping everyone find some supplies to go to sleep and some PJ’s, he went to bed early, saying he had a headache and was just going to take some Tylenol. Robin tried to go with him, but he insisted she stay and hang out with everyone. They were watching The Fox and the Hound because it was the only animated ("comforting") movie Steve had. “I know it’s for kids, but it’s one of my favorites.” He explained with a shrug, leaning against the railing for support.

“Are you sure you’re, okay?” Robin asked. “Did the paramedics give you all clear?”

Steve only laughed, “Yeah, Rob. I’ll be fine. Go watch the movie. I’ll see you in the morning.” He insisted, waving a dismissive hand.

Steve’s voice broke when he said that sentence and, after watching him hopelessly lie to impress girls, Robin knew Steve’s voice broke when he lied. Yet, she didn’t say anything. She just assumed it was because he was tired. Surely, Steve wouldn’t turn down medical help. Surely, he wasn’t that careless about himself. Robin wished she knew this would be their last conversation, so she could think of something better to say.

“Okay. Love you, dingus.” She would’ve said, if she knew he wouldn’t actually see her in the morning.

Steve would’ve rolled his eyes. “Love you too, freshman.” She would punch his arm, making him wince and call her an ass. That’s how she likes to imagine their last conversation, but that’s not at all what they said. He still dismissed her and lied about his own health, but she didn’t tell him she loved him like she wishes she did. No, instead she said, “I’m surprised they could hurt your head so much beneath all that hairspray.” She stuck her tongue out between her teeth teasingly, “It’s like your own helmet, Harrington.”

“Ha, ha.” Steve blanched while rolling his eyes. “You’re just jealous that I came prepared with protection.” he ran a hand through his hair for emphasis, making the sweat coated streaks fall around his forehead. Robin laughed and sent him off to bed with a promise that they’d spend all of tomorrow together, just to talk and heal.

Nobody knows the exact time of death, as everyone was asleep, but the doctors believe it was shortly after their conversation—a bit past midnight. As it turns out, Steve went to sleep with one of those head injuries you’re not supposed to sleep with. Something got hit too hard beneath all that hair, and Steve simply stopped breathing. “It can happen in patients who have suffered from concussions or untreated head traumas. It’s common in those who have experienced a hemorrhage or aneurysm of some kind.” Nancy had explained, but, truly, there were a number of other variables that could’ve caused that. A bad reaction to that Russian drug, his concussion, a hole in his lung, internal bleeding, or even a really bad fever. In any case, Robin should’ve never let him go to bed alone.

Another thing she wishes she could change is something she’ll forever be guilty for. Robin wishes more than anything that it was her who found the body. She wishes she wasn’t dealing with a hangover from that weird drug Steve and her were given and that coffee wasn’t the most important thing in the world. Coffee wasn’t the most important thing, but, at that moment, Robin would’ve traded her soul for a mug. Ms. Byers had made breakfast for everyone, and Steve was thought to be sleeping in, even though he was the first one to go to sleep. “I’ll get him.” Dustin volunteered, rolling his eyes and groaning like it was a chore.

The boy walked up the stairs and went to Steve’s bedroom. The door was open a bit, so Dustin didn’t feel the need to knock before he walked in. The first thing he noticed was that Steve’s bed sheets were messy, like he had moved around a lot in his sleep. The next thing he noticed was a Tylenol bottle on the floor; the cap was off, and the contents were spilled across the carpet. Dustin figured Steve had a nightmare and knocked the bottle and his sheets over, knowing nightmares were common for everyone in the party. Hell, there were quite a few nightmares during that night. Dustin had one. It was about Steve not making it back from the bunker. It was about Steve dead on a concrete floor.

At least, a bed is more comfortable than concrete.

“Hey, Steve, wake up.” Dustin nudged Steve’s foot, which was covered by his blanket. He was still wearing his Scoops uniform, being too tired to take it off, Robin supposed, or he passed out. “Steve, come on.” Dustin spoke louder and nudged him harder.

Dustin moved forward and clapped his hands above Steve’s body. “Steve!” He nearly shouted. He reached forward to grab Steve’s arm with a roll of his eyes, and gasped when he felt how cold it was. His heart jumped to his throat and choked him like a noose. “S-Steve…?” his voice was shaking. Steve’s house always had great air conditioning. He was just cold from the AC; that was what Dustin told himself. It was cold in the house, and all of Steve's blankets fell off of him in the night, so he was cold. “Steve, this isn’t funny!” Dustin grabbed Steve’s arm and shook it. Steve felt stiff, like he was a mannequin and not a person. “Steve!” Dustin screamed this time. His voice echoed out into the hallway and downstairs, alerting the others. “Steve! Please, you gotta wake up!” He grabbed both shoulders, shaking him vigorously. “Steve!”

Robin was the first person up the stairs despite her headache and poor coordination. The blinds were closed, and the room was gray, so she flicked on the overheads to find a man just as gray as before the lights were turned on. He was pale and his eyes were shut. His lips looked blue, and his veins were prominent beneath ghostly skin. “Steve…?” Robin didn’t scream like Dustin, but her voice cracked. She didn’t run to his side or shake him. She merely stepped out of the way as Joyce and Jonathan ran into the room. “Steve…” she couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Dreaming or having a nightmare. Awake or asleep. Dead or alive. In that moment, there was no difference.

“Steve—get off of me!” Dustin elbowed at Jonathan, as the boy tried to pry Dustin away from his friend. “Steve! Wake up!” Robin felt tears streaming down her face, but she was confused why they were flowing. She wasn’t there. Her mind was still at Scoops. She was still watching Steve being a dingus and badly flirting with girls. She was in the backroom with him listening to a Russian code. She was tied to his back, and they were laying on the ground talking about where they would be if they became friends earlier. Steve would be in college, and Robin wouldn’t be in a Russian bunker. She was in the mall bathroom talking with him about Tammy Thompson’s bad singing voice. They were in the “Todd-father” discussing the possibilities of going to gay bars in Indianapolis. They were standing on the stairs wishing each other goodnight. They weren’t… he wasn’t… This couldn’t be happening! Steve… Steve was just here.

Dustin screamed and kicked when Murray entered the scene and picked the boy up from beneath his arms. “Let go of me! — Steve!” Dustin screamed. It was the kind of scream that vibrated the walls and shook Robin to her core. A kind of scream she’s only ever heard come out of movies. The boy was pushing at Murray’s arms, trying his best to escape and return to his friend’s side. Tears were streaming down Dustin’s face, and Robin glanced into the hallway at the sound of a thud. Max had reached the top of the stairs, having had to fight her way through a now sobbing Lucas. She was sitting on her knees with her hands covering her mouth. Robin could tell she was screaming, based on her stretched jaw and narrowed eyes, but she couldn’t hear it. Everything was suddenly muffled. Her headache from that hangover switched into a stabbing pain, and the ringing in her ears drowned everything out. “Steve!” Dustin shouted—barely heard. Murray set the boy down besides Max and blocked them both from the room. Max threw herself into Lucas’s arms. Robin looked on as Jonathan started doing chest compressions. She glanced over the balcony to see Mike with his hands cradling the back of his head, covering his ears. His hands were clenched so tightly, that Robin was sure his nails were digging into his scalp. Will was hugging Jane, who was sobbing and clinging to him, shaking her head in denial.

Joyce suddenly walked out of the room. She was gasping and choking on her own tears. “Ms. Byers…?” Robin didn’t know what she was going to say or ask. She just needed confirmation that this wasn’t real. That this was just a Russian drug-induced dream. That this was all some sick nightmare or cruel joke from the universe, and she was gonna wake up to Steve sitting at the kitchen counter with an ice pack to his swollen eye and a coffee mug in hand. “’Bout time you woke up, Buckley.” He’d say with a smile despite the split in his lip, because Steve had the best smile, and he loved to show it. He smiled in the Russian bunker and smiled through tears. He smiled in every picture no matter the context, and Robin used to say he was too happy. He’d just shrug and say, “Better than being miserable.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Joyce whispered instead of disproving reality. She wrapped her arms around Robin’s shoulders. It was then that the younger girl felt her knees buckle, like she was made of broken glass and poorly glued back together, and all it took was Ms. Byer’s touch to make her break once more. A scream wrenched its way from her throat, loud and painful. It vibrated the walls and left her vocal cords burning. Joyce caught her as she fell, but Robin collapsed to the ground anyway. Joyce came with her, never releasing Robin from her arms.

Downstairs, Nancy had called 911. In Steve’s room, Jonathan was still desperately doing CPR, singing Bee Gees beneath his breath and looking at his friend through a teary, blurred vision. Jonathan didn’t tell anyone what happened until after the autopsy had shown that Steve had a broken sternum and broken ribs. Jonathan explained that he heard and felt the man’s chest crack and cave, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He couldn’t let Steve die. “I can’t get Stayin’ Alive out of my head…” he joked with a wet laugh, but everyone knew it wasn’t a joke. Everyone knew he now hated that song more than anything else.

It was Joyce that had read them the autopsy report. She was friends with the doctor who ran them. It was her that read from the doctor’s note that it was strange Steve died. It was that doctor who predicted that Steve had lied and hadn’t seen any of the paramedics, because even a first-day trainee would’ve seen the obvious head trauma from a mile away.

“That’s ridiculous!” Mike had scoffed, “Why would anyone refuse help from paramedics?”

“Because he didn’t want any.” Max answered. The way they talked about Steve’s death changed after that. No longer was it talking of a friend who died. They were talking about a friend who committed suicide. At least, that’s how Robin interpreted it—the change in everyone’s tone and the anger shown at the funeral. If a friend dies, they get mourned. If a friend kills themselves, especially one as important and relied upon as Steve, they get yelled at.

They had Chief Hopper’s funeral on Tuesday, Billy Hargrove’s was on Thursday, and Steve’s was on Monday. They tried to postpone Steve’s funeral until August for when his parents would be back, but, when Joyce called the Harringtons, they forwarded money and told her to go on with the funeral without them. Joyce ended up breaking that phone after giving Steve’s mother a piece of her mind, which mostly contained curse words and heavy insults. The plastic shattered in her hands after she slammed the phone on the hook repeatedly, cursing Steve’s parents and sobbing about a son that wasn’t really hers.

At Hopper’s funeral, nearly the whole town showed up. There were a lot of funerals the following weeks for a lot of Hawkins citizens, but Hopper was the chief and considered the hero of the fire, so it made sense that he had the biggest crowd to show up. It was so crowded that Robin was forced to stay in the outskirts of the pack with Erica and Lucas beside her. She ended up leaving early. She didn’t know the man that well, anyway.

Billy’s funeral wasn’t as crowded, but a few people from school showed up, including some from the old basketball and swim team. Billy’s dad left early, muttering something about “a waste.” Mrs. Wheeler was there, and she was crying, which Robin found strange. Sure, the woman could’ve been there because Nancy and Mike were, but that didn’t excuse her crying. Max was standing by the lowering casket with her arms crossed, refusing to cry, but she did. Her jaw clenched and her hands turned to fists, as if she was angry at herself for tearing up. Robin was just observant enough to notice these things, and she placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. Max leaned into her touch without a word. In fact, they didn’t speak at all that day. Robin wonders if she should’ve said something—anything—to comfort the girl more than a touch could, but Steve’s funeral was coming up. Robin couldn’t be bothered to comfort anyone past a touch. How could she when she, herself, was ripping at the seams?

Steve’s funeral had the least amount of people to show up. Tommy and Carol showed up to the ceremony, but they left before the burial. There was exactly 13 in attendance at the burial once the preacher and the graveyard men left. There was Robin, Dustin, his mom, Lucas and Erica, Mrs. Sinclair, Mike and Nancy, the Byers, Jane, and Max, who caught a ride from Lucas’s mom because her mom was working that day.

Steve’s gravestone was tall but simple, with little flowers carved into the border and floral vases at the sides. Everyone pitched in to add to the stone what Steve’s parents weren’t willing to pay for.

Steve Harrington

April 12th, 1967 — July 5th, 1985

Beloved Friend, Hero, Babysitter

“Anyone want to say a few words?” Joyce asked once the dirt was place over their friend. The woman’s face was red, and tissues were clenched in her fists. Thinking back, Robin realized that Joyce hadn’t cried at a single funeral, not really. At Hopper’s, she teared up, but she was so busy comforting Jane that she didn’t allow herself the breakdown she probably needed. At Billy’s, she comforted Max, taking over for Robin when the older girl had to leave early. At Steve’s funeral, Joyce Byers didn’t cry, because she had to be there for the kids, but it proved difficult. The tissues in her hand had little splotches of blood from her nails digging into her palms. It took Robin a long time to figure out why Ms. Byers was torturing herself, but the answer hit her like a train. Joyce is a mom; moms can’t cry. Never in front of the kids. They keep themselves together and cry when the lights in the house are off and the work for the day is finally finished. They let their tears build up inside of them until they explode. Robin wonders if any dishes were broken in the Byers’ household that week. No one, not even Joyce Byers, could survive that long with that many bottled tears without breaking some glass.

Robin liked Joyce, but she was too busy staring down at the patch of dirt that was once her friend to really hear Ms. Byer’s question. The small crowd stayed silent when it was asked, save for a few sobs, sniffs, and gasps for air. Max stepped forward, staring down at Steve’s grave with a red face and swollen lips. “Fuck you.” She gasped through a sob. Robin was surprised she didn’t bite her bottom lip clean off when she used it as a method to stop her tears.

Max then leaned down to drop a bracelet on the grave. It’s one of those braided ones, made with string, beads, and yarn. “El and I made you this at our sleepover. We were gonna give it to you, but I didn’t have it with me at Starcourt. I-I guess it’s useless now. What kind of friend are you? Y-you fucking asshole.” She spoke only after her sobs were subsided into small cries. She wiped her eyes and looked at the rest of her friends before walking off. She went and sat at her brother’s grave, and everyone knew it wasn’t because she loved Billy more. It was because she hated people seeing her cry, so they looked away once her shoulders began to shake, and her hand flew to her mouth to deafen the sobs and gasps. Her hair was pulled over her as a curtain to hide her own disgust—her emotions. Robin leaned over to look at the bracelet. “#1 Babysitter” it read in those little lettered beads. The string was blue and yellow–Steve’s favorite colors. The colors were recently poisoned for Robin.

Mike went up next. “I, uh, still think you’re a dumb jock, but you’re a good person. Y-you saved our lives more times than I can count. You saved my life more times than I can count. Thank you…” Mike stepped back and stared at the sky, anywhere but the ground. “I wish you were still here, so you could tell Dustin to stop being an asshole. You were always the one to keep his ego in check.” Mike laughed wetly, “He’s gonna be awful to deal with now that you’re… now that you’re gone…” Mike took another step back, like Steve’s grave was suddenly a demodog ready to pounce instead of a mound of dirt and stone. “Why’d you have to leave us, man? You were supposed to lead us—teach us about surviving high school and dealing with other dumb jocks. You—you’re a fucking jerk, you know that!?” Nancy grabbed his arm before he could storm forward. Mike leaned against his sister and turned his eyes away from Steve’s grave completely. Perhaps, he believed that, as long as he didn’t see the newly dug dirt, it wouldn’t be real. Nancy wrapped her arms around her brother, as he hid his crying face in her black dress. To Robin’s surprise, the girl owned three, and she wore a different one to each funeral. This dress was Robin’s personal favorite, as it was mostly tool with a tight waistline and a small shawl, like a 50’s prom dress. Steve would’ve liked it.

“He was supposed to teach me basketball.” Lucas spoke so quietly that Robin was sure only she heard it, as she was the only one to look his way. “We were supposed to practice all Summer, man. You still haven’t taught me how to properly do a lay-up.” He laughed until he cried, and then he laughed some more, “I promise you; I’ll get on the team. Hell, I’ll make it to varsity—the big leagues, the NBA. I don’t care if they don’t let freshmen on V; I’ll find a way. I’ll practice every day, and I’m getting your old jersey number, okay? You better come to my games. I’ll be looking out for you, got it?” he was smiling through his tears, and Robin had to look away. Lucas was always the type to put on a brave face, but Robin saw the way his smile cracked his façade. It was too forced; it was disturbing to watch. She could hear the slow transition of his laugh turning into painful sobs. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard a noise other than a sob.

Lucas dropped something on Steve’s grave, and she looked down to see his old jersey folded and placed neatly on the dirt. Lucas wiped at his eyes and glanced around at his friends. He clenched his jaw and tried to stop the tears from falling, but they wouldn’t stop. “I-I’m sorry.” he walked away to join Max, stopping at his mom to grab tissues from her purse. The mothers, besides Joyce, were sitting far away on a bench to give everyone space to say goodbye. Robin realized as she watched Lucas walk over to them, that, technically speaking, only 11 people attended Steve Harrington’s burial. They were just bystanders.

Lucas approached Max like a wild animal, but she merely patted the ground beside her. It made sense. They had matching wounds. Both lost a brother, and Robin is not including Billy in that statement.

“You saved us.” Erica spoke next. “I was so scared, and you protected us, like a knight. You’re an idiot for doing it, but you did it. And now you…” Erica furrowed her brow before reaching into her skirt’s pocket. She pulled out a My Little Pony figurine. Robin didn’t know which one it was, but it must’ve meant a lot to Erica. The girl sobbed as she placed it beside Max’s bracelet. “You better not lose this. It’s my favorite, okay?” she pointed to the grave like she was giving Steve a lecture. Robin couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

“What pony is that?” It was Will who asked, talking for the first time since they lowered Steve's casket.

“Twilight Sparkle.” Erica answered quietly, embarrassingly. It wouldn’t be for another three months that Erica would explain why she chose Twilight Sparkle. It was when the girl had wandered into Family Video to rent The Last Unicorn. Robin asked why she chose that character, and she told the older teen that it was because Twilight was a leader who valued friendship and loyalty. Robin sobbed after Erica left the store. She sobbed so hard that she nearly threw up her lunch and had to go home early. She doesn’t know why she cried so hard. Steve talked about being forced to watch My Little Pony with Erica, so she knew that Steve knew who Twilight Sparkle is. She laughs at the thought, because he would surely insist, he was a different character, but Erica’s right. Steve was a leader. He loved his friends, and he was as loyal as a dog to its owner.

Erica and Lucas left after that, bringing Max along because she didn’t want to stay, even if she was supposed to ride home with Nancy. Nancy dropped a teddy bear and a rose off at Steve’s grave. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” She sobbed through a tight mouth. Steve used to say that Nancy would call him an idiot the same way Robin calls him a dingus. “It’s affectionate.” he said, but Nancy’s tone was dripping with venom. The girl walked away, shaking her head and clenching her fists. Mike and she left, and she peeled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Anger fueled the vehicle more than gasoline, in that instance.

“When it rains, this will be destroyed, but you’re a real barbarian, Steve. Even if you don’t know what that is.” Will placed a drawing of Steve in a suit of leather armor that looked suspiciously like a Scoops Ahoy uniform. His weapon was a spiked bat, and he was smiling and looking at the sun. The next day, Robin stole that drawing to make a copy at the library’s printer. She returned the drawing the same day, but she had the copy hanging up in her room next to a polaroid Jonathan took of the ‘Scoops Troop’, as Dustin called them: Steve’s bloody yet smiling face, Erica’s tired eyes, Dustin’s bright smile, and Robin in her vomit and blood-stained uniform.

“I forgive you, Steve.” Jonathan said next. “I know I told you that a long time ago, but I don’t think you ever stopped blaming yourself for what you did. You’re not a bad person. You never were. I don’t hate you. I would never hate you. You’re… you’re my best friend.” His voice was shaking with his hands. He had nothing to give but a small photo of him, Steve, and Nancy on the Byers’ couch. Steve’s face was bloody and bruised (not from the Russians—apparently Jonathan throws a powerful punch), but he was smiling the brightest. Always the optimist, Robin supposed.

Joyce didn’t say anything. She was too busy comforting Jane, who kept trying to speak but came up short every time. The Byers and Jane left, leaving Dustin and Robin.

“I thought he was asleep…” Dustin whispered. He removed his ‘Camp Knowhere’ cap and placed it on the corner of Steve’s grave. “Sorry, it’s not Farrah Fawcett, but I don’t think they let hair spray into the afterlife.” Dustin joked. He laughed before he suddenly broke into sobs. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “You…” his voice broke, and he bit his quivering lip. “I hate… I hate you so, so much, Steve.” He shook his head. “Our deal was you die, I die. Not you die, I keep on living without you. What made you think I could do this without you?! Why would you leave me like this?! All you had to do was let them look at you! They were going to get to all of us eventually! They were paramedics Steve. It was their job to help you, and you sent them away! You insisted you were fine, you, fucking asshole. Why was it so hard to let someone else take care of you for once?! Why are you such a “hero” that you couldn’t… you…” his voice cracked, “you may think that was selfless, but this is the worst thing you’ve ever done. You weren’t helping us; you fucking killed yourself, and now I’m alone, Steve! Who’s going to drive me around? Who’s going to teach me how to talk to girls and do my hair? Who–Who’s supposed to be my dad now? Did you hear that? You were my dad, Steve. You weren’t my brother. You weren’t my babysitter or mom, Steve; you were my dad, and now you’ve gone up and left me too. You should’ve—you should’ve let them look at you! How hard was it to get help, you, fucking asshole!” Robin rushed forward to stop Dustin from kicking the dirt, grabbing his arms and yanking him back. “Let go of me!” Dustin shouted, shoving Robin away.

“Dustin, this isn’t what Steve would’ve wanted— “

“Don’t tell me what he wanted!” Dustin snapped. “You knew him, for what? A few months?!” He pushed forward, gesturing to himself. “I’ve known him for years, Buckley. He saved my life more times than I can count. We have been through hell together; you don’t get to tell me what he would or wouldn’t want!” He pointed an accusing finger to Robin, who held her hands up in surrender. “You didn’t even know him.”

“Dustin, I— “

“Just forget it.” He spat. He left before Robin could say another word. She watched him storm past his mom, who offered a comforting hand, but he just ignored her and shoved his way past. He marched to her car and yanked at the door to get in. They drove off with nothing but a sparing, apologetic glance at Robin from Ms. Henderson. She smiled back and waved.

Robin turned back to Steve’s grave and sighed. “Hey, Dingus…” she greeted with an awkward smile, “I hate wearing dresses, you know.” She looked down at the black dress her mom forced her into, as dad’s suit was just on the side of too big. She looked back up at Steve… Steve’s grave. “I tried to convince them to let me write Dingus on your grave, but they weren’t having it. They said something about insulting the dead, but they don’t understand what it means to us.” She licked her lips. “I’m surprised Tammy Thompson didn’t show up. I bet her singing would have woken you right up.” Robin snapped her fingers and began singing a “Kermit'' rendition of ‘Candle in the Wind’. She laughed and snorted, before she frowned and paused. “I should’ve woken you up. I shouldn't have let you sleep. Fuck, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.” She took a shuddering inhale. “I fucking hate The Fox and the Hound, Steve! You call that shit comforting? That movie’s your favorite? It’s depressing as shit, Dingus, and it makes me cry every time I watch it! A-A-And we were both scared. I should’ve forced you to sleep on the couch or-or gone with you. We should’ve been there for each other! I should’ve…” Robin interrupted herself with a gasp, like she was in pain. Then again, she was in pain. The kind of pain where there’s a stab in your chest from a knife that you can’t get out. No matter how much you claw at your skin and rip away your clothing, that knife stays. It’s not heartbreak. It’s not jealousy. It’s not rage. It’s guilt. It starts in your chest, and it spreads to the rest of your body like a slow building wildfire. And similar to a slow wildfire, you don’t notice it until the trees are all burning and there’s more smoke than clouds in the sky. “I should’ve saved you.” she glanced at the word ‘hero’ carved into his stone. “It should’ve been me.”

Robin went home after talking to Steve’s grave for another hour. She talked until the faucets in her eyes went dry and the numbness felt like a lump of burning coal in her throat. “I’m not hungry.” She muttered to her mom on the way to the bathroom. They had one bathroom in the house, but Robin didn’t give a shit. She spent nearly three hours there, staring at the mirror. Staring at her bruises. Staring at the dark circles and large, purple mark on her neck from where they pressed that needle into her skin. Staring at someone living. Someone who didn’t deserve to be.

In movies, it always rains at funerals. It didn’t rain. Of course, it didn’t. Steve hated the rain. “It ruins my hair, and it’s miserable and gray.” Instead, it was a cloudless day and hotter than the fireworks that burned the Mind Flayer. Robin was left sweating in her funeral outfit, so she got into the shower sometime during hour two of crying. She sat down in the tub instead of standing and cried with the water. Turns out, she hadn’t run dry, she just ran out of excuses to cry at Steve’s grave instead of going home where her parents would do nothing but pity her and care for her. She didn’t want pity; she wanted Steve. “I wish you were here, Steve.” She whimpered, calling out to her lost friend.

Her friend, who was sitting outside the bathroom door. Steve, who was still in his Scoops uniform and wishing he changed his clothes before he went to sleep. Steve, who had his elbows resting on either knee as he held his head in his hands. Steve, who was sobbing and crying along with Robin. “I’m right here…” he repeated. He lost how many times he had said the sentiment, but he was sure it was in the thousands by now.

“I’m right here.”

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