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sidekick-hero · 3 months ago

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In Loving Memory

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 4, prompt: Angst with Happy Ending

Tags: Modern AU, rockstar Eddie, plane crash, HAPPY ENDING, minor character death

words: 3.3k | AO3 | mature

“Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington. My name is Elizabeth Quinn, and I’m part of the cabin crew today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. I hope you're enjoying your flight so far.”

Steve looks up at the owner of the soft voice to his right. It’s a young woman in a stewardess uniform with big brown eyes that instantly remind him of Eddie.

“Oh, hello. Uhm, yes, everything is fine, thank you.”

The stewardess smiles warmly. “I'm glad to hear that, sir. I wanted to discuss a situation we’re currently facing. As you may know, flights can sometimes be overbooked, and today we have a few more passengers than seats available in first class. We’re looking for a volunteer to move to another section of the plane. In exchange, we’re offering a significant compensation package, including a voucher for a future flight, a complimentary upgrade on your next trip, and a gift card for our in-flight shopping.”

She looks apologetic, and he can tell she hates asking him this. It’s not a particularly long flight, and he mostly booked first class because that’s what his father’s secretary always did for him the few times his parents had him fly to wherever they were. So giving up his seat for a four-hour flight doesn’t seem too bad.

“Yes, I can move to another section of the plane. That’s okay,” he tells the stewardess and is rewarded with a bright, genuine smile adorned with dimples. Another thing that reminds him of Eddie. He pushes the ache in his chest down and returns the friendly smile with one of his own.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Mr. Harrington. If you have any specific preferences or questions, please let me know. Your understanding and cooperation greatly help us ensure everyone has a comfortable flight.”

With that, she leads him to another part of the plane, presumably Economy class.

“This one right here, Mr. Harrington. It has extra legroom and is situated next to an emergency exit. I will make sure you have a pleasant flight with us. You can call me with the call button or find me at the front or back of the plane.”

Steve nods with another smile that falls as soon as she walks away to prepare for takeoff. His thoughts wander back to the reason he’s on a flight to LA today.

Eddie.

He still wonders if this is a good idea. When he bought the ticket to LA, he was sure of it. The panic that had constricted his throat had lessened as soon as he pulled up the website of the airline and he felt like he could breathe again for the first time when he got the confirmation mail.

It’s a long shot, he knows that. Surprising Eddie in LA after everything that happened but he hopes it’s a grand enough gesture that maybe Eddie will forget how much Steve has hurt him. Robin suggested to just call Eddie and apologize, explain to him why Steve was so reluctant to take the next step with him.

The truth is, Steve doesn’t think he could handle it when Eddie didn’t pick up the phone or just hangs up on him before he can say his piece. If Eddie decides that it’s too much for him, that Steve’s too much, too damaged, then be it. But he needs to see Eddie one last time, drink in those beloved doe eyes one more time.

Steve thinks about why he and Eddie fought the last time they saw each other. Growing up in a very conservative household, Steve always suspected he might like men as well as women, but he denied any attraction toward men because of what his parents might say. He knew they wouldn’t accept him.

He was 31 when he walked into a bar in Chicago with his best friend Robin and locked eyes with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Eddie was the first man he ever kissed, ever slept with. He couldn’t help himself, not when Eddie flirted with him, wooed him, and made him laugh with his whole body. Steve always assumed what they had was strictly physical, just some fun between two single guys.

But Eddie wanted more than that. He wanted a relationship with Steve.

Eddie had asked Steve to be his date on the red carpet in LA for the Grammy Awards. Eddie was actually nominated with his band, Corroded Coffin, and he wanted to show the world who he loved. But Steve was scared. Everybody would know he was in a relationship with another man. So he declined, and Eddie left Steve’s apartment heartbroken.

Steve can still see the look on Eddie’s face, the hurt in his eyes. It had shattered something inside him, but his fear was stronger. He had watched Eddie walk away, the love of his life slipping through his fingers because he was too afraid to hold on.

Steve’s thoughts are interrupted by the plane's PA system crackling to life, announcing their imminent takeoff. He leans back in his seat, staring out the window as the plane begins to taxi down the runway. The memory of Eddie's face, the pain in his eyes, is as vivid as ever.

He had tried to justify his fear, telling himself it was about protecting Eddie, about not wanting to put him through the scrutiny and judgment that would come from being seen with another man. But deep down, Steve knew it was about protecting himself. He was scared of what his parents would think, what the world would think.

As the plane ascends, Steve closes his eyes, replaying that last conversation with Eddie in his mind.

"Steve, I love you. I want us to be together, really together," Eddie had said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want you by my side at the Grammys. I want to show the world who I love."

Steve had felt his heart pound in his chest, a mix of fear and longing. "Eddie, I can't. You know how my parents are, how everyone will react. It's not that simple."

Eddie's eyes had filled with tears. "It is that simple, Steve. Either you love me enough to be with me, openly and proudly, or you don’t. I can’t keep hiding us. I can't keep hiding you."

Steve had stood there, silent and conflicted, as Eddie walked out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him had felt like the end of everything.

The plane levels off, and Steve opens his eyes, blinking back tears. He knows this trip to LA is a long shot, but he has to try. He has to make Eddie understand how much he means to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, opening the notes app. He starts typing, trying to find the right words to say when he sees Eddie.

The flight attendants come by with the beverage cart, and Steve looks up to see Elizabeth smiling at him. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Harrington?”

“Just some water, please,” Steve says, returning her smile.

As she hands him the bottle of water, she says softly, “It looks like you have a lot on your mind, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Steve looks up at her as he accepts the cup of water and finds that he actually wants to talk with someone about what he’s about to do. He needs someone to tell him that it’s going to work out.

“I do. I’m on my way to win back the man I’m in love with.”

There, he said it. He admitted that he was in love with another man and now he’s fighting the urge to hide, scared of her reaction. But he holds her gaze, heart pounding in his chest.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes softening, “that explains the look on your face. I think you’re very brave, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve takes a moment, contemplating how much to share. But he feels a strange sense of comfort in Elizabeth’s kind eyes.

“His name is Eddie,” Steve begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s kind, talented, and makes me laugh like no one else can. But I let my fear ruin everything between us.”

Elizabeth listens intently, her expression encouraging him to continue.

“We fought because he wanted us to go public, to be together openly. He wanted me to go with him to the Grammys, to be his date. But I was too scared of what my parents would think, what people would say. So, I said no. And he left,” Steve explains, his voice cracking.

Elizabeth nods, understanding in her eyes. “That sounds really hard, Steve. But it also sounds like you care a lot about him.”

“I do,” Steve says, his eyes filling with tears. “I love him more than anything. That’s why I’m going to LA. I need to tell him how sorry I am and that I’m ready to be with him, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Elizabeth places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It takes a lot of courage to admit when you’re wrong and to fight for what you love. Eddie is a very lucky man to be loved so much by you, Steve. I hope he sees that.”

Steve smiles, feeling a bit lighter. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I really hope he does.”

Elizabeth gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next passenger. Steve watches her go, feeling a much needed sense of hope. He’s made mistakes, let fear dictate his actions, but he’s ready to make things right.

About two hours into the flight, Steve decides to stretch his legs and walks up and down the narrow aisle. He passes families with little kids, an elderly couple working on a crossword puzzle together, and two young women chatting and laughing. It’s fascinating to see so many different lives intersecting in one place.

On his fifth lap, Elizabeth appears next to him, gently touching his arm.

“Steve, could you please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt?”

He looks at her, puzzled. “But the seatbelt signs are still off.”

“That’s true, but from experience, I know the signs could come on any minute. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before the aisle gets too crowded with everyone returning to their seats.”

Steve nods, appreciating the heads-up. “Thanks for letting me know.” He heads back to his seat.

As Steve settles in and fastens his seatbelt, the plane suddenly lurches violently. The cabin shakes with a gut-wrenching turbulence, hurling passengers and their belongings through the air. Panic erupts as screams fill the cabin, and Steve clings to his seat, trying to stay calm amid the chaos.

Elizabeth dashes down the aisle, her face pale and eyes wide. She spots Steve and rushes over, her voice barely audible over the cacophony. “Steve! Call Eddie! Now!”

Heart pounding, Steve scrambles for his phone. His hands tremble uncontrollably as he dials Eddie’s number. The turbulence makes it nearly impossible to hold the phone steady, but he manages to keep a grip.

The call connects, and Eddie’s voice comes through, thick with confusion and worry. “Steve?” He asks and then he must hear the chaos in the background because he immediately adds, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice cracks as he fights back tears. “I’m so sorry. I should have been braver. I should have been all in. I’m on this plane, and it’s really bad. I wanted to come to LA to talk to you. I wish I could have done all this in person. I wish I could kiss you one last time.”

Eddie’s voice trembles with desperation. “Steve, what’s happening? Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Steve’s eyes dart around the cabin, the plane shaking violently as alarms blare and panicked voices rise. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want this to be a goodbye, but I think it might be. I needed to tell you how much I regret being so scared, and I’m sorry for hurting you. I love you, Eddie. I should’ve told you when I had the chance.”

The turbulence worsens, and the plane begins a terrifying descent. The noise in the background grows louder and more intense. Eddie’s voice, filled with panic, tries to reach him. “Steve, stay with me! Please!”

But as the plane’s descent becomes more violent, the call goes eerily silent. Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as the only sound now is the relentless, chilling dial tone. Tears stream down his face as he grips the phone tightly.

Elizabeth returns to Steve’s side, her eyes filled with kindness and urgency. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, Steve. It’s going to be okay, but I need you to fight. For Eddie, okay?”

Steve nods, trying to steady himself amidst the chaos. He closes his eyes, focusing on Eddie’s voice and the love they shared, holding onto the hope that somehow, somehow, he’ll get another chance.

The last thing he hears is the deafening roar of something massive hitting the ground way too fast.

When Steve opens his eyes, he’s immediately overwhelmed by blinding light and searing pain. He groans, wishing for unconsciousness to take him away again so the agony would stop.

“Steve?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice pulls him from the sweet embrace of nothingness. The panic in Eddie’s voice is palpable, as if he’s on the verge of breaking down.

“’ddie?” Steve mumbles, his mouth feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton and his tongue heavy.

“Yes, I’m here, Stevie. I’m here.” Suddenly, Eddie’s beloved face appears above him, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Hi, baby.”

Steve manages a smile, the pain momentarily overshadowed by the sight of Eddie’s face. How he’s missed those eyes.

The thought brings Elizabeth back to his mind, the stewardess with the same eyes. Reality crashes back, and Steve gasps with the sudden realization that he should be dead.

“What… happened?” he croaks, his voice barely audible as his strength begins to wane.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, Stevie, but first we need to get your strength back. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake.” Eddie reaches for the call button next to Steve but stops to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was terrified of losing you.”

That’s the last thing Steve hears before darkness pulls him under once more.

The next time Steve wakes up, he feels a bit better. The pain is still there, but it’s dulled by the medication, making it manageable. He’s strong enough to talk more than just a few minutes, and he uses that strength to repeat to Eddie what he had said on the phone during the crash.

Eddie is holding Steve’s hand between his, his tear-streaked cheek resting gently on the back of Steve’s hand. His eyes are still red and puffy, but he speaks with a steady voice that is thick with emotion. “Steve, I could never just walk away from you. I knew you weren’t ready, even though it hurt. I planned to talk to you when I got back to Chicago, to tell you that I would wait for you, as long as I wouldn’t lose you. But when you called and I heard all that screaming… Fuck! I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up. The crash was bad—most of the front was completely destroyed. It’s a miracle you survived.”

Steve blinks, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. “How… How did I survive?”

Eddie’s gaze is intense as he searches Steve’s eyes. “From what they told me, you were supposed to be seated in the front, but you weren’t. No one could explain why. Your seat was right next to the emergency exit, so they got you out quickly. And you had your seatbelt fastened, which probably kept you from being thrown around too much. It’s almost like fate that you survived. Only twenty-three people made it.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he absorbs Eddie’s words. The thought weighs heavily on his chest: If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth’s warning, he might not have been so lucky. He’s sure she’s the reason he’s still here.

A flicker of concern crosses Steve’s face. “Elizabeth… she was a stewardess on the flight. She moved me to this seat, told me that first class was overbooked and asked if I’d be willing to switch. And she also made sure I fastened my seatbelt just before we started going down.”

Eddie’s eyes grow wide with shock. “But… they said on the news that casualties were below a hundred because first class wasn’t as full as usual. They said no one in that section survived.”

Steve’s heart pounds as he starts to realize the gravity of Elizabeth’s actions. “I need to find out if she survived, Eddie. She saved my life, and I need to thank her.”

Eddie’s eyes brighten with resolve. “We can do that, Stevie. I need to thank this woman, who saved the man I love. What’s her name? I’ll get Chrissy on it—she’ll find out in no time.”

Feeling his love for Eddie surge, Steve lets it overflow for the first time without restraint. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They share a long, tender look, like lovesick teenagers, before Steve remembers Eddie’s question. “Her name is Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s expression changes abruptly. All color drains from his face.

“What did you say her name is?”

“Elizabeth Quinn. Why, do you know her?”

Ignoring the question, Eddie asks, “What did she look like?”

Steve describes Elizabeth, including her big brown eyes that reminded him of Eddie’s—one reason he bonded with her almost instantly.

As Steve finishes, Eddie looks even paler. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone, navigates to an article from the airline, and hands it to Steve. The headline reads: “Airline Grieves Loss of Crew Members on Flight 731.” The article features a picture of a stewardess who looks just like Elizabeth. Her name is listed below the photo: Elizabeth Quinn.

Steve’s heart sinks as he reads the name. “That’s her. Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s voice trembles as he looks at Steve. “Elizabeth Quinn was my mom. She was a stewardess, and she died in a plane crash when I was eight.”

Steve’s eyes widen in shock. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I had no idea.”

Eddie’s eyes are glassy as he looks at Steve. “She was the best person I knew. She loved her job and loved helping people. And now it seems she came back to help two more people: me and you.”

Steve reaches out weakly, placing a hand on Eddie’s. “I wish I could have thanked her in person. But I did tell her about you—how funny, smart, and amazing you are. How much I love you. And I should have known, because you look just like her. The same kind eyes and dimples when you smile.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand, his voice breaking. “I’m glad you got to meet her. God, this is so crazy. I was so angry for so long that she left me. I know it’s unfair, but that’s how I felt. I miss her so much.”

“She knew you loved her. She made sure you wouldn’t lose another person you love, because she loves you too. Even if she’s no longer here, she’s still watching over you.”

“Over us, you mean. I’m pretty sure this means you’re part of the family now.”

Eddie still asks Chrissy to check the airline's list for Steve’s savior. He’s not surprised when Chrissy reports that there was no Elizabeth Quinn on that flight.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie angst #steddieangstyaugust #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing

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buckets-and-trees · 1 month ago

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Steve Rogers Collection

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely wife @rookthornesartistry

Series & Collections

EXILED NOMAD a series of encounters that could have happened between Civil War and Infinity War SOFT DARK, explicit smut, rough sex, emotionally damaged Steve, lonely reader

↠ July 3, 2017: When He First Got Me (Steve POV) ↠ July 4, 2017: You Should've Seen Him ↠ September 28, 2017: Pull the String ↠ September 28, 2017, around midnight: Put Me Back on My Shelf ↠ March 10, 2018: It Fit Too Right ↠ March 21, 2018: Puzzle Pieces in the Dead of Night

CEDAR TREES a Royal AU historical romance King!Steve x Queen!Reader politically arranged marriage, reluctant pining to true and utter love, SMUT (rough fucking to fluffy and intimate sexual situations)

↠ Fire Burning From a Cedar Tree [3.4k] ↠ The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are [1.2k] ↠ Winter Solstice (response to an ask) ↠ Cold Hands, Warm Hearts [1.3k] ↠ A Shift in the Morning Routine [1.1k] ↠ Love That's Laid Beside Me [5k] ↠ The Silence of the Hushed Sublime [4.8k]

RED, WHITE & TRUE a Steve Stays AU Presidential Candidate!Steve x Wife!Reader politically arranged marriage, slow burn, eventual smut

↠ Prologue: Upstate New York (Steve POV) [1.3k] ↠ chapter 1: Manhattan & Brooklyn [4k] ↠ chapter 2: Las Vegas & Cleveland [4k] ↠ chapter 3: Houston [3.4k] ↠ more coming soon

WARM SHADOWS - complete post-endgame omegaverse AU Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader, Alpha!Captain Hydra x omega!reader, eventual Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader x Alpha!Steve DARK SMUT, tw: non con, tw: dub con, fluff beginning

↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: The Dawn Has Come [5.5k]

LITTLE LARK a modern mafia AU with dark elements mean Mafia!Steve x curvy Millennial Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Bucky

↠ Little Lark ↠ Bird on a Wire ↠ Bird Home in the Darkness

BUCK’S ELEVEN a snapshot series, historical AU, Ocean’s Eleven-style heist premise Steve and Bucky and many other Avenger cameos

↠ Buck's Eleven Steve & Bucky ↠ Bookings and Rings Steve x Pan Am Stewardess Reader [600 words, light smut] ↠ Good Luck the team [600 words]

THE BROOKLYN BOYS a post-endgame where Steve stays in the present rom-com drabble series, slow burn Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, eventual Stucky x reader

SERIES: ↠ 1: Bucky and the Bench ↠ 2: Steve and the Sandwich ↠ 3: Bucky and the Books ↠ 4: Steve and the Skyline ↠ 5: Bucky and the Brief Brush ↠ INTERLUDE ↠ 6: Steve and the Ballet ↠ 7: Bucky and the Shelves ↠ 8: Steve and the Blindside ↠ 9: Bucky and the Situation ↠ 10: Steve and the Best Friend ↠ EXITLUDE

MORE STORY: ↠ First Night [takes place immediately after part 10] ↠ Idle Hands [first fall/winter] ↠ Big Red Bow [a few days after their first NYE]

Double-Shots

Tiny Vessels [1.5k] + Don’t Forget You Were the One Who [1.3k] end of Endgame Steve gender neutral Reader insert, brief moments of non-graphic physical intimacy

One-Shots

Peering In My Hollow Core [2.4k] Nomad!Steve x Morally Grey f!Reader explicit smut (dubious consent re: sex pollen)

Witchview [1.3k] ignore Endgame/Steve stays, post-WandaVision, witch!reader soft!dark, smut, magic, manipulation

King [1k] mob AU

All the Pieces Fall [3.4k] unidentified male main character x female!reader modern AU, second chance, smut

Drabbles

Not Meant to Be Like This [680] omegaverse, smut, unexpected heat

Steve with a Breeding Kink [750] soft dark, smut, tw: dubious consent

Steve and a Dog [200] ignore Endgame/Steve stays gender neutral reader, fluff

With You fluff, potential future Neighbor!Steve scenario/chaptered work

Bodyguard Steve mildly smutty, modern AU

Other Chris Evans Characters...

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fan #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #forest navigation

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casuallyimagining · 8 months ago

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Selfish. || myg.

Less of Them - Two: Selfish.

NSFW. minors dni

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 5,461

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: implied domestic abuse, controlling behavior, depression, arguing, a slap, blood, discovery of a dead body, murder

Notes: thank you to @oddinary4bts for beta-ing this

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

prev. | masterlist | next

There’s a bustle in the castle that hasn’t been here for a year. It’s like the very stone–polished, whitewashed, ancient–is vibrating with excitement. After all, a royal wedding is an exciting time, and everyone must play their part. The cherry trees, hundreds of them across the property of the castle and in the castle town, are close to blossom. The merchants are busy building and sewing and crafting and baking. The stewards and keepers have cleaned the castle walls inside and out more times than can be counted.

You cannot find it in yourself to match their enthusiasm.

You stand on a pedestal facing a floor-length mirror, a seamstress on either side of you. They haven’t stopped touching you since they’d walked into the room. Slipping garments onto your body. Primping and adjusting the fabric so it lays just right. Measuring, pinning, tucking, tacking. The silk is heavy, like lead on your limbs, and they just keep layering it on. All of it is an elegant cream color–not white, despite tradition. Daniel had instructed the royal seamstresses. It was because of him, after all. White is too pure, too untouched.

Maybe, under different circumstances, worn by someone else, you would find the gown pretty. The silken fabric is soft and luxurious, a delicate floral pattern embroidered into the sleeves. The skirt is plain, but it flows well, and it’s a slightly richer color than the rest. There’s a small loop at the waist where a luck ornament will be attached. You haven’t seen it yet–the queen mother hasn’t yet presented it to you–but the handmaids have told you that it’s meant to bring many sons.

But honestly, you’ve avoided looking–really looking–at any of it, your focus solely on the leather toe of your shoe sticking out from under the fabric of your dress. You were never too mesmerized by your reflection, but now… It’s hard to reconcile what you see with what used to be there. Your hair is longer. You’ve lost weight. A bruise peeks out from under the collar of your dress. There’s a hollowness in your eyes, and worse, there’s a hollowness somewhere deeper. A meekness that you don’t recognize, but that’s been gnawing at the edges of you for nearly a year now.

You don’t recognize yourself. You don’t want to recognize yourself.

“Have you seen him yet?” You hear one of the handmaidens ask as the seamstresses pin the fabric at your sleeve.

The other handmaiden groans softly. “I’ve been stuck inside all day. Kagha asked me to shine the silver.” Kagha is the stewardess of the castle, and she’s been running around like a crazy person of late trying to prepare for the wedding.

The first handmaiden leans closer to the other. You’ve seen her around, but you have no idea what her name is. “He’s gorgeous,” she whispers, so quiet you almost can’t hear.

“Shame he’s from the forest,” the second handmaiden laments, standing. Her arms are full of linen.

You hum. It’s been a long year. A lonely year. You’ve learned a lot, and you know you’ve done a lot of growing to meet the needs of the position you find yourself in. But that doesn’t mean that the path hadn’t been lonely. And you’d finally managed to convince Daniel to allow you to send a letter to your father, asking him to send you someone to serve in the castle.

Based on the handmaidens’ reactions, he’s sent Seokjin.

It makes sense. Out of anyone your father could have sent, Seokjin is the most likely to fit in at the castle and in Castle Town. He’s charming and smart, and knows how to hold himself at court. And, more than anyone, Seokjin knows–or assumes–how careful one must be in this life, too.

There’s an excitement bubbling in you that you haven’t felt in a while. Your step-brother. Here. Finally, a friend. You leave the seamstresses when they’re finished, an almost giddy bounce to your step. It leads you all the way to the King’s Council Chamber–if Seokjin is here, that’s where he’ll be. Daniel may not have greeted you on your arrival to the Ironhold, but he would certainly not risk snubbing the eldest son of one of the old families.

You stand outside of the council chamber, suddenly unsure. The excitement has faded, replaced with the roiling unease that comes with being anywhere near this room. You should wait. As excited as you may be to see Seokjin, you don’t want to risk Daniel’s ire at your interruption. So you stand there, outside the door, far enough away so that you aren’t in anyone’s way.

After a moment, you can feel your heartbeat start to pound in your ears. Maybe waiting is a mistake. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can make it back to your chambers. Maybe you can wait there. You nod to yourself. That’s a better idea. You’ll wait for them to come to you.

You’ve just turned to go when the door opens, the hinges creaking lowly with the motion. You can hear Daniel’s voice, but it’s Eden, Daniel’s younger brother, who walks out first. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, half fleeing, and you can hear him make a little noise of surprise. It doesn’t last long, though, because as soon as Daniel spots you, Eden’s face schools into something neutral.

Daniel stops mid-word to question you. “What are you doing here?”

“I-” Your words stick in your throat. You shouldn’t be here, but you’re frozen in place. And then, just when you think things can’t get worse, a dark head of hair and curious, feline eyes poke out from around Daniel’s form.

You freeze, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole. You feel yourself wilt, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of how you’re standing, how awkward your arms feel at your side, how rigid your spine feels. It’s not Seokjin. You could never be that lucky.

Daniel stalks toward you and roughly grabs your upper arm. His fingers dig in, pressing into your flesh. You wince ever so slightly–it hurts, the bruise already there is an angry deep purple–but quickly, you school your face into something more pleasant.

“We’ve talked about this,” Daniel says. His voice is even, but you can hear the undertones.

You should not be here.

You’re embarrassing me. Again.

We will discuss this again later.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out softer than you’d like, and you wonder if he can hear the slight tremble, or if it’s just you. “I… I thought it was Seokjin and I…” You trail off, eyes falling to the stone floor.

The king jerks you closer, grip like a vise on your upper arm. “You what?”

“I got excited.”

He hums. “I see.”

Off to your left, Eden clears his throat. “Brother. You have a meeting with Mother and the High Priest in the garden soon. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Daniel nods and squeezes your arm. “We’ll discuss this later.”

The brothers leave, and suddenly, the hall is quiet. The few guards that had been milling around follow Daniel and Eden out. You clear your throat, unable to meet the dark eyes that watch you curiously. He’s never been to the Crownlands, and your brain latches onto an idea.

This doesn’t have to be awkward.

“Have you seen the grounds?” you question finally, shifting your weight.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Would you like to?”

You can feel him looking at you, can feel the questions hanging in the air. Thankfully–and surprisingly–he says nothing, simply motions for you to lead the way.

“The castle was built nearly 800 years ago by the Choi family. Because of tensions at the time between the royal family and the rest of the old families, the Ironhold was built to be nearly impregnable, with oil chutes built into every staircase and balistraria in every exterior wall.” You gesture to one of the arrow slits in the wall, where the sunlight from the mid-spring sun peeks through the thick stone. You know that he knows all this–he sat through almost as many of your father’s history lessons as you did–but it helps to keep talking.

And to his credit, Yoongi listens patiently. He follows dutifully at your side, pausing to look at things you point out and nodding along where appropriate. You can’t show him everything–that would almost be impossible as the castle grounds are so large. But you walk him through parts of the gardens (“There are over 1,000 cherry trees on the castle grounds.”), and show him the fish ponds (“The fish have been imported from the Eastern Coastlands. Some of the koi are descendants of the original fish brought in when the ponds were built 300 years ago!”). You walk past the Queen Mother’s private residence in the southern part of the castle grounds and show him the knight’s barracks and the training grounds.

All of the buildings on the castle grounds look the same. It had taken you a few months to actually learn where everything was and what each building housed. Tall, sloping, whitewashed walls, deep blue tile roofs, sharp corners and rectangular windows. A far cry from the curved staircases and round windows and dark woods of Castle Blackwood.

Re-entering the castle proper, you show him the Grand Hall, where important dinners are held, and the king’s dining room. And finally, finally, you end the tour of the castle grounds on the second floor of the western tower where your chambers–and the chambers of personal guards and hand servants–are. You’ve known for a while that there was a room designated for your own personal guard, so you end up in front of that door.

“This is yours,” you tell him, gesturing to the door. It’s not as thick or as dark as the ones back at Castle Blackwood, but you grew accustomed to those small differences long ago.

He stands there, his hand on the brass doorknob, gaze soft as he takes you in. You can see his eyes dart briefly to where the bruise peeks out from under your collar and feel yourself shrink away. You don’t want to know what he sees when he looks at you.

“Come in.” His voice is gentle, almost as if he’s speaking to a wounded animal. “Let’s catch up.”

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It’ll make it harder to move forward–to move on. But then he says, “Please,” and you’ve never been able to resist the softness of his eyes. So you let him lead you into his chambers and shut the door.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you in a dress,” he says quietly. He stands in front of you, a little awkward. He keeps rubbing his hands together, patting down his trousers. It’s little comfort to know that he’s just as nervous as you are.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?” You don’t mean to snap, but it just kind of happens. You aren’t sure what this means–what it means for him, let alone what it means for you. There’s a pit in your stomach that feels almost like you swallowed a rock, and you do your best to steady yourself.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you here? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t it have been Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any- anyone else?”

He reaches into his doublet and pulls out a folded piece of parchment. It’s a little crumpled, the edges a little worn, like it’s been read many times. You catch a glimpse of a forest green wax seal still clinging to the top edge, and immediately you know what it is.

“Maybe we’re both a little selfish.” The way he says it, you can feel your heart sink.

Of course you know what the letter says. It haunts you, but at the time, you thought you were doing the right thing. You still do.

I hope that, in time, you can move on. That eventually, you will find yourself in love. That you will find happiness again. It’s selfish, but I will only be able to live through this with the hope that you are happy and living a life that is worthy of the care you’ve shown me.

Find someone who loves you as much as I do. For my sake, if nothing else.

You want him to be able to move on and live his life. You want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy. And you would sacrifice your own happiness a hundred times over if it meant he could have the life he deserves.

Yoongi reaches out, and your heart races. You tense, an automatic reaction, and his hand pauses mere centimeters from your cheek. A look of confusion crosses his dark eyes that quickly morphs to understanding and then sadness. His hand falls back to his side.

“How did you get that bruise?” His voice is casual, but you know him, can practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

You tug the collar of your gown so that it covers better. “I tripped.”

“And bruised your shoulder?”

“I’m still getting used to the gowns.”

He hums. You know he knows you’re lying. But you aren’t sure how much you want to allow him back in yet. You aren’t sure how much you want to drag him down with you.

He sighs, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he looks at the letter that’s still in his hands. “I tried,” he says softly. “For the first few months, I thought that if I could just convince myself that I was mad at you, it would be easier. I tried so hard to hate you, to blame you for leaving, make it your fault.” He looks up at you, then, and you can see a shine to his eyes. He reaches out again, but this time, the tips of his fingers brush against your hand. “But I couldn’t. It’s not fair, but it’s even less fair for you. And I want to be here. I know it won’t be easy, but I want to be here with you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Your eyes sting, and there’s a lump in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down.

Hours later, you’re alone in your chambers. Dusk has fallen, the handmaidens have already been through to light the few candles on the tray near your bed. You sit on the chaise under the open window, a gentle spring breeze lightly caressing your skin. Silently, you stare down at the wooden box in your hands.

It’s dusty. You haven’t touched it since placing it on the shelf when you’d first arrived in the Ironhold. You can see the fingerprints from how you’ve held it over the past half-hour. Gently, you wipe the dust from the gilded leaves of the thistle and press them in. A soft ‘click’ echoes through the inside of the box.

You take the contents out carefully. Sketches from one of the artists in the Forest Town–one of you, your father, your step-mother, and Namjoon and Seokjin; the other of you and Yoongi. You look much younger here, even though the drawings were only done a few years ago. It feels like an eternity. The real reason you’d pulled the box off the shelf, though, is still in your hand, wrapped delicately in a piece of cloth you’d ripped from a pair of your trousers.

Once it’s unwrapped, you hold it between your thumb and your forefinger and inspect it in the low light.

Part of you feels guilty that this is the first time you’ve looked at it in almost a year, that you can’t wear it, even on a chain around your neck, or at the very least that you can’t display it in some way. You shouldn’t have accepted it. But there’s no way you could have known it would have spent a year hidden away in a secret compartment in a wooden box, wrapped in the fabric of the trousers you can no longer wear.

You suppose there are things about the world your father couldn’t have thought to teach you.

He couldn’t have prepared you for everything you’ve learned here. How to break yourself down, brick by brick, and rebuild from the ground up. How to change how you talk, how you think. To change your personality to be more likable, less loud, less prominent. To change how you walk, how you stand, how you take up space. A good queen knows when to enhance her king’s spotlight, but also how to fade into the background. She’s firm but quiet. She defers to her husband’s opinions, she doesn’t shape them. And certainly, she knows naught of how the king’s court functions.

He could never have taught you that there’s a special kind of loneliness reserved only for future queens, when you arrive in a new city and no one knows you and no one likes you and no one wants to know or like you. You’ll just be another fixture in the Crownlands, a figurehead with no power, a vessel with no thoughts. There for one thing–maybe two, if you’re lucky–and ignored the rest of the time.

You miss home, miss having things to fill your time with. You miss the activity of Blackwood Castle–there was always something going on, even if it was something minor. Now, you feel as though you spend most of your time daintily draping yourself across chaises and windowsills, watching the world pass you by. You’d tried to go to the library once and were barred entry (“The queen has no need for such knowledge!”). You’d been banned from the council chambers (“How dare you embarrass your king in front of the Eastern traders!”). You couldn’t watch the knights spar, couldn’t sit by as the dog trainers did their work, couldn’t stroll the streets of the Castle Town.

The sound of guard boots in the hall draw your attention, and you jump, hurriedly re-wrapping the ring in cloth and slotting it and the two drawings back into the secret compartment in the box. You press the thistle flower and manage to wipe the rest of the dust off the front just as the door to your chamber opens.

Daniel stands there, the Realm’s unshakeable king, smelling of wine and grinning like the dog that caught the hare. He doesn’t say anything, merely shuts the door behind him and yanks the bolt in place to lock it. You embrace him as he approaches, allowing him to push you back onto the bed.

After he leaves, you stare at the ceiling and hope that someday soon, you’ll start to feel less hollow again.

It takes mere days for Yoongi to fully integrate into life in the Ironhold. Or, perhaps, integrate is the wrong word. It takes mere days for him to disappear. Once it’s clear he’s there to stay, he’s no longer a novelty, overshadowed by the wedding looming over the next couple days. He goes with you to dress fittings, sits behind you out of the way when you meet with the clergy. He even accompanies you to meet with the Queen Mother. You’re shocked that she allows him to stand in on your conversation, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’re a little glad she does.

“My knights followed me everywhere over the years,” she says casually, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I expect you’d want yours to do the same, forest bumpkin though he is.”

The Queen Mother sits at a small table near the window. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, simply stares out at the garden as if she’s inspecting the very plants for quality of growth. It’s uncanny how much her sons have inherited from her. Daniel has the same intense, calculating gaze, and both he and Eden have her high cheekbones and downturned lips. They’ve all got the same dark, glossy hair and downturned eyes.

You stand there, waiting for her to address you again. It’s awkward, but you dare not move. You can feel Yoongi’s presence behind you–he’s been quiet all morning, but you can tell that he has thoughts about life in the castle. You ignore him. Instead, you focus your attention on the table in front of you and the Queen Mother’s cup of tea.

Finally, the Queen Mother brings her attention back in your direction, leveling a gaze at you that reminds you just how scrutinized you’ve been since you arrived at the Ironhold nearly a year ago. She studies you for a moment before raising her teacup to her lips. “I suppose you’re expecting me to give you the norigae for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

That had been why you thought she’d called this meeting. The seamstresses who’d been working on your gown said the Queen Mother would give you a lucky decoration. They’d said it was a big honor, that it was tradition. Now, you’re unsure. Still, though, you nod quietly.

The Queen Mother hums. Her gaze burns into you, and when you fidget where you stand, she frowns. “Danny has said that your dress is to be cream.”

“It’s pretty.”

“It’s not white.” Her tone is as sharp as her glare. It’s an accusation.

You swallow. “I do as my king asks.”

“The traditional norigae has been passed down for generations in the Choi family,” the Queen Mother says. She does not look at you, merely glares down at her tea cup. “It’s supposed to bring great luck to the marriage and many sons. It’s meant to be given to a king’s bride to both welcome her into the Choi family and celebrate the pure gift she brings with her.”

It scares you a little, how she says it. It almost sounds like a threat, though you aren’t quite sure what she’s threatening you with. What you do know, though, is that you probably should be scared of whatever it is.

“Do you think you deserve that?” she questions.

“I…”

You aren’t sure what to say. You aren’t sure there’s anything you can say. You’ve willingly allowed Daniel into your bed when he’s come calling. He’s the king and the man you are to marry. This is your life now.

Her question lingers as you wrack your brain for something–anything–to say. Thankfully, she puts you out of your misery.

“I suppose I must. Tradition is tradition, after all.” She sighs. “I will give it to the dressmakers tomorrow before the ceremony.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

“You may go.” There is no room for argument.

The trek back through the gardens and to your chambers is silent. Yoongi is quiet as he follows you, the only signs that he’s there are his shadow following yours and his footsteps echoing off the stone floors of the castle. He shuts the door behind you as you enter your room, sliding the steel bolt into place to lock it.

“That’s not necessary,” you tell him, collapsing onto the chaise at the foot of your bed. You’re exhausted, and there’s something heavy growing in your chest. “You can return to your own chambers. I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

He doesn’t move, and when you look up at him, you can see the conflict in his eyes. After a moment, he seems to decide on something, because he takes a cautious step forward.

“You know you don’t have to put up with any of this.”

“What?” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

“We could run away.” He’s closer now, kneeling in front of you. Carefully, he takes your hand, holding it as though it were glass.

You shake your head. “You know that’s not possible.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand, dark eyes pleading. “We could go somewhere far away. Somewhere they couldn’t find you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“You’re exactly who I’m worried about.” His tone is firm. “This place is poison, it’s… it’s-”

“It’s fine, Yoongi.” His touch is electric on your skin, and you jerk your hand away, burned by his proximity. “This is my duty. This is my life.”

“It’s not fine!” He stands, clearly frustrated. “You don’t deserve how these assholes treat you. No one does. The Westerlands can deal with whatever comes from-”

“Loyalty does not yield.”

“Fuck that! Have some sense!”

“Get out.” You say it as loud as you dare, not wanting to draw the guards but desperate, so, so desperate, for him to leave. When he doesn’t move, you pick up the closest thing to you—a soft-bound journal—and throw it at him. The book hits him in the chest with a dull thud and plops to the ground.

A pillow follows. Then another. A blanket. Your hair brush. Anything you can get your hands on, you hurl in his direction. If he would just leave and let you rest. You’re exhausted. Dear God, why won’t he leave? Eventually, you’re out of ammunition, everything else around you being too heavy or too large to throw with any sort of accuracy. Yoongi, to his credit, has stayed stock-still throughout the ordeal, unflinching despite the onslaught.

You stalk over to him, blood pressure rising. There’s a headache stirring behind your eyes. The pit grows inside of you. “Go. Now.”

“No.” He says it so calmly.

“Stubborn fool. I will send you home.”

“Listen to yourself,” he pleads. “This isn’t you, you don’t-”

Your palm stings.

Why does your palm sting?

You look down, confused, and see your skin a shade of angry red. Movement in front of you draws your attention. For the first time since you’d thrown the journal, Yoongi moves. His hand comes up to cup his cheek; your gaze follows his arm as it moves. There, hidden by his hand, his skin begins to blossom pink.

It’s like you’re sucked out of your body. You can see yourself standing there, cradling your stinging hand, staring in bewilderment at the red that blooms across his skin. A silent moment passes. But then you feel something, deep within you. At first, it’s nothing more than a tremor, a slight tremble within you, but then it builds. Your heart races. Whatever was left of you—whatever you’d been able to claw and cobble together over the last year—implodes. You can feel it shatter within you, a thousand times more powerful than the initial destruction. And with it, you crumble.

Yoongi approaches you cautiously, like he’s coming up on a wounded animal. “What can I do?” he asks, his voice soft, kind. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Leave,” you beg.

You regret it. You regret contacting your father. You regret asking him to send someone. Why you thought having any of them here would be helpful–or why you’d never considered it would be him–you’ll never know. You can survive here–you were surviving here. But at what cost?

It hits you hard, blindsiding you like a sudden storm. The truth is, you’re scared. What if the old you–the you he fell in love with… What if she’s gone? What if she can’t come back? What if she died the day you climbed into that carriage, replaced by this hollow husk of a person you are now?

You suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re here. Yoongi is here. Tomorrow, you will marry Daniel. And from there, you will take things as you have. One day at a time.

Eventually, you manage to pull yourself together. Your face still feels stiff and puffy, but you refuse to remove the cloth you’ve draped over the mirror, so you don’t know if it really is. You’ve got a headache–all the pressure behind your eyes and in your cheeks is enough to make you feel like your head is splitting open. Part of you just wants to go to sleep. But it’s barely mid-afternoon, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’re supposed to be doing.

The wedding is tomorrow, but you’ve gotten almost no direction from anyone on what should be happening. You suspect that something should be happening, but you have no idea what it could possibly be. As a child, you spent more time climbing trees and tormenting Namjoon with Yoongi than dreaming of your wedding, but even still. This feels like a business transaction.

A knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and it takes a moment for you to gather yourself. Your mind is a little hazy as you slide the bolt unlocked and open the door, but when you see Eden standing there, you force yourself to come to your senses. The prince bows slightly with his head, inclining it forward ever so slightly. It’s respectful, but only so much–he’s still the one with royal blood.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, stepping into the room. You haven’t really invited him in, but you step aside anyway and close the door behind him. “I heard that mother may have accosted you over the norigae this morning.”

“She was within her right,” you tell him softly.

Eden hums. “Still. You’re to be part of this family. Mother is just disappointed that she won’t be the most important woman in Daniel’s life anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s remotely true.”

He snorts, a wry smile on his lips. In the year you’ve been at the Ironhold, Eden has become your favorite person here. You don’t particularly trust him, but of everyone that lives in the Crownlands, he seems the most normal.

Casually, Eden wanders over to a window, looking out over the courtyard several levels below. “It is my hope that things will get easier for you in time.”

From where you’re sitting, that seems almost impossible. But you don’t want to quash his optimism. So you smile politely and nod.

“I brought you something,” Eden tells you, and the way he says it, it sounds almost like a conspiracy.

Carefully, he pulls a long strip of fabric out of his pocket. It’s a beautiful silk, red as blood–the chosen color of House Choi. He holds it out with both hands.

“Technically, my brother should be giving this to you,” he says as you take it. “But I don’t think he cares so much about keeping to every tradition. Just the ones that are convenient to him.”

You can feel something thin and hard inside the silk. Eden nods, and you gently unfold the fabric. Inside is a hairpin, shiny silver and around the length of your hand. The end is an intricate dragon head, expertly forged, and in its mouth, a bright red gem. The same dragon that stands resolutely on the Choi family crest. It’s pretty, but something about it makes your heart hurt.

“Tomorrow, you will become a dragon,” Eden says. “You should be able to dress like one.”

“Th-thank you.” You can barely manage it, and you hope that he takes your struggle as emotion and not the war that’s starting to wage within you.

After Eden leaves, the hours pass slowly. You aren’t sure what time it is when Daniel stops by your chambers. He barely speaks to you, but you can tell something is different about tonight. He stays longer after, falls asleep in your bed, on top of the coverlet. You aren’t sure when you drift off, only that you do.

You aren’t quite sure what wakes you up. It’s late. Or maybe early. It’s pitch dark–you can’t even see candles in the windows across the courtyard. Mysteriously, Daniel is still beside you. You’ve awoken on your side, so you can’t see him, but you can feel the dip in the mattress and the pull of his body on the blankets.

But there’s something else. Your blankets almost feel damp, the linen heavy with an extra weight. You sit up, curious, and immediately notice a spot that pools around Daniel. It’s soaked down deep into the mattress, the spot dark, almost black, in the dark of night. You reach out and touch it, and though you aren’t sure what you’re expecting, it’s sticky.

“My king?” you ask softly, touching his arm. He hasn’t moved since you woke, and you have a sinking sense that something is horribly wrong. When he doesn’t rouse, you shake him. “Daniel?”

There’s no response. His arm is stiff. He does not move. Your skin is sticky. You shake him harder, so hard that he rolls over. For a moment, you believe he’s awake. But then you see the cloth sticking out of his parted lips. And the gaping hole in his neck.

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#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader

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riddles-n-games · 4 months ago

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For some reason I keep forgetting Jameson can pilot a helicopter even though that’s been mentioned twice now. Which has me thinking… you know what this means! A perfect opportunity for someone (not me, at least not for the next four years) to write an Averyjameson pilot and stewardess AU. Or better yet, rivals-to-lovers copilots, oh, that would be great.

#jameson winchester hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #avery grambs #averyjameson #au idea #tig fanfiction #the inheritance games fanfiction writing #fanfic writing #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit

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valtsv · 9 months ago

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can't get my "VAL becomes apprenticed to carpenter as a stewardess of the cairn maiden" au out of my head now. specifically the thought of VAL getting steadily more annoyed with someone who's getting on their case and starting to say something that will probably end with the speaker being transfigured into a piece of furniture only for carpenter to clap a hand over her mouth and firmly tell her "do not. finish. that sentence." while VAL grins at her.

#🐉#carpenters already had the worlds worst little brother (faulkner) and now she gets the worlds worst little sister (VAL)#VAL thesiltverses #carpenter #the silt verses

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i23kazu · 1 year ago

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imagine diluc in a royalty!au, who sits lonely on his throne – sitting in the shadow of crepus, the king. you're his best friend, his confidante – and no one knows who you are except for your title as the village baker's assistant.

the nights are long and cold and filled with boring chatter of how the king has prepared a long line of marriageable applicants, but diluc tunes it all out. he's waiting for you to climb to his window and deliver the nightly treat you kept for him from the village bakery, and the two of you spend the rest of the night talking before you slip out the window again for the sake of your rest.

everything repeats until the night before his coronation day – where diluc prepares to be sold off to another loveless marriage for the sake of the country – until you hurriedly dash into the room, joining the line discreetly. diluc refuses to see anyone except for you, stepping out of his throne and pushing his way through the crowd. all eyes are on you now, in your tattered, flour-stained clothing.

"i've been waiting for you," he grins, offering his hand to you.

#[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #diluc x reader #diluc x gn reader #diluc fluff #diluc imagines #royalty au

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joelalorian · 1 year ago

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Tides of Desire - Chapter One: A Prelude to the Open Sea

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, adventure, alcohol, injuries, fluff, angst, smut. Reader is a badass. Additional warnings will be posted with each chapter as needed. No use of y/n.

Chapter One: A Prelude to the Open Sea

It was his favorite time of year, yacht season. Austin, Texas would always be home, but there was just something about the sea that called to Joel Miller like a siren, the salty air a balm to his weary soul. It warmed his heart that Sarah took to the sea just as well, tagging along from a young age as he captained charter boats in the Gulf of Mexico or Caribbean Sea for a few months between November and April each year. His brother, too, fell in love with the sea, joining Joel in the charter industry upon his discharge from the Army. While Joel spent years working his way up to Captain, Tommy fell into the safety side of yachting, thriving as a deck hand and eventually falling into the role of Bosun. Tommy preferred the hands-on, leadership with some manual labor style of the role and had no inclination to move up for a while.

Sarah would be joining them for her third season as an official crew member, serving on the interior staff once again, her first time as the Chief Stewardess. Having grown up in the field, she knew the ins and outs of the yachts her dad captained and could likely hold nearly any crew position. Yet, Sarah always preferred the interior staff roles. She loved designing elegant table settings and the creative aspects of event planning, even if the grind of cleaning up after obscenely rich charter guests had its less than stellar moments.

“Ya all packed up, baby girl?” Joel asked as he passed Sarah’s bedroom, hefting his luggage down the stairs. “We gotta head out soon. Tommy’s coming to get us any minute now.”

“I’ll be right there!” Sarah called back, zipping up her carry-on bag. She always overpacked. Never knowing just how the season would go adventure or weather-wise, Sarah wanted to be prepared for anything. Hence, she was checking two large suitcases and taking a carry-on and large purse on the plane with her.

“For fuck’s sake, kiddo. Are ya moving out or somethin’?” Joel griped as he heaved one of the suitcases and the carry-on down the stairs. “We can do laundry on the boat, ya know.”

Tommy’s arrival cut off any sassy response Sarah might have made, and Joel made sure the house was secure before they took off for the airport. His buddy next door would keep an eye on the house and mow the lawn when needed, as he’d done for years now.

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The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the tranquil waters of the Caribbean. An elegant yacht, a vessel of luxury and escape, sat at the marina awaiting the rest of its crew to board.

Joel stood tall on the bridge, the epitome of a seasoned captain with a stoic demeanor and skin tinted by the southern sun. On the deck, his long-time first mate, Frank, called out friendly greetings along with orders to the crew already at work. Down below, Bill, the yacht's engineer, inspected the engines with a meticulous eye, grumbling to himself about the slightest imperfections of the otherwise pristine ship.

Sarah stood portside with clipboard in hand, greeting each crew member as they arrived and directing them to their bunks. There were a few familiar faces from over the years, many crew members returning to spend another season with the Millers, yet her interior team was entirely new.

Once everyone arrived and settled into what would be their spaces for the next few months, the team leaders called meetings with their crew – Sarah and the interior team settling in the sky lounge while Tommy met with the deck crew in the tender storage space. Once they introduced everyone and went over the important aspects of their respective roles on the yacht, the two teams reconvened in the main salon for the crew meeting with the captain.

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From the moment you spotted the super yacht in the marina, you were in awe. The sleek 100-foot powerhouse towered over the other boats in the mooring, looking more than ready to take on the Caribbean Seas. This was your third season as a deck hand, having changed careers after burning out quickly in the corporate world. Though it might have been a complete waste of your undergrad and graduate degrees, you switched gears to yachting as a means of self-preservation. The hard work of life on the seas reminded you of pleasant summers spent with your grandpa sailing the English Channel and Mediterranean. He taught you everything you knew about boats and the water. You never lost those skills or that love for the sea when you left England for university in America, having been a fierce competitor on your school’s sailing team.

Now, you found yourself joining a new crew on a super yacht for the third year in a row and you could not be more excited. You heard great things about Captain Joel from your prior captains and knew that he treated his crew like family. He commanded respect by taking care to treat the crew with the respect they deserved. You also heard he was gorgeous, but you couldn’t focus on that. You were here to work and didn’t want to get distracted.

Your eyes widened as you walked up the passerelle and met a tall young woman with a mane of springy dark curls. “Hi, I’m Sarah, the Chief Stew!” she greeted, brown eyes shining as brightly as her smile.

Her exuberance was contagious, and you flashed a broad smile in return. “Hi, Sarah,” you replied, giving your name in return, and watched with a keen eye as she checked you off on the clipboard in her hand. “I’m one of the deck hands.”

“I see that.” Sarah met your eyes again. “My Uncle Tommy is the Bosun. He’s awesome, you’ll love him.” Her eyes assessed you further, apparently approving what she saw. “Some also say he’s quite handsome. Though, some say that about my dad, too. Personally, I don’t see it.”

“Cheeky girl!” you laughed, already knowing that you two would get along well. “I can already see you’re going to be a troublemaker.”

“You have no idea!” Sarah confirmed with a smirk. “Come on, I’ll show you to your bunk.”

Sarah gave you the penny tour on the way, pointing out the main areas that you would need to know and explaining a few things about the other crew who arrived so far. The yacht was beautiful and the enormity of it became even more obvious as you moved through the various levels and rooms.

“You’ll be rooming with Tess, the chef. She’s awesome. My dad has been friends with her my entire life. She always prefers the top bunk, so you have the bottom.” Sarah was a fount of information. “We’ll be calling crew meetings in about an hour, so get settled and explore.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” you replied before turning to sort through your things. Left to your own devices, you had your portion of the cabin setup just how you wanted in no time. Before you knew it, you found yourself wandering around the ship, orienting yourself and getting familiar with each area.

Turning a corner on your way to the main deck, you ran smack into a body resembling a solid wall. “Oy! I’m terribly sorry!” you rushed to simultaneously apologize and regain your balance. Your eyes inched upwards along the broad chest in front of you, roving over a scruffy beard, and finally settled on a pair of startlingly deep brown eyes that stared at you in equal wonder.

“Pardon me, darlin’.” The voice emanating from that sinful mouth was deep and rich, causing the hair on the back of your neck to raise with goosebumps. Reaching out a large hand to make sure you were steady, he continued, “You must be one of my new crew members. ‘M the Captain, but you can always call me Joel.”

Good lord, people were not lying when they told you Captain Joel was hot. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever set eyes on. Broad and tall, he struck an imposing figure, but his dark eyes were kind, wide like a puppy’s. The contours of his face were pleasing to the eye. It took you a few moments to realize you were staring wide-eyed without responding, and quickly cleared your throat.

Giving him your name, you added, “I’m one of the deck crew.”

Joel nodded. “My brother is the Bosun. Have you met him yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve only met Sarah… and now you,” you replied. Was he aware that his warm hand was still on your arm? The heat of it searing into your skin in a tantalizing way, threatening to send you to distraction. “I’m sure I’ll meet everyone soon enough.”

“Are you British?” Joel asked suddenly, his tanned cheeks flushing. His free hand raised to the back of his head, ruffling the dark curls there. “Sorry, I just noticed the hint of an accent.”

“I am, though I’ve been in the States for quite a while now and have lost most of the accent I used to have. You could say I’ve become Americanized,” you joked, earning a deep chuckle from Joel.

It seemed that neither of you were interested in getting back to what you were originally doing, the conversation flowing as you shared some of your yachting experience and Joel told you about the rest of his crew and how he liked to operate as a Captain. You decided you could listen to him talk forever – he was enthralling, voice deep and flowing like a rocky stream. All too soon, though, a call came over the radio on Joel’s hip, letting you both know that it was time for the deck crew meeting.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you said, trying not to feel sad that the conversation had to end. Before you could turn to reorient yourself, Joel spoke. “I’m heading in that direction; I’ll show you the way.”

It was a quick, quiet walk to the main deck which allowed you to focus your mind. Joel left you with a soft touch at the small of your back and the hint of a smile before you turned your attention to the other members of the deck crew.

You could see the family resemblance as Tommy introduced himself as Bosun. Damn, the brothers were far more attractive than they had any right to be - the Miller family had a serious gene pool! As if able to read your thoughts, the young woman next you chuckled and teased under her breath, “And another one bites the dust.”

Confused, you glanced at her, keeping half your attention on Tommy’s speech. “What?” you whispered back.

“All the women fall for them.” Her chin jutted toward Tommy, her eyes shifting to the bridge where Joel was stationed. “I hoped you wouldn’t be so predictable.”

Oh, this girl was cheeky! You tried to remember her name from Tommy’s introductions… Kellie? Nellie? No, it was Ellie. This Ellie was… something. “It’s not my fault they’re bloody fucking hot, yeah?”

The pair of you cracked up, drawing Tommy’s ire. “Am I interrupting something more important, ladies?”

Your face warmed as you shook your head, mortified to be called out so early on in the first day of the job. Meanwhile, Ellie merely smirked at the man. “Please, continue with your enthralling speech, Tommy. We’re just dying to hear the rest of it.”

Tommy scowled, the exuberance of his speech now shaken.

At once, you knew the pair of you would get along well. Ellie was so… spunky. And it wasn’t often you got to work with another woman on the deck crew.

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“Hey Dad,” Sarah chimed, stepping onto the bridge to see Joel going over a tide chart for the coming days.

“Hi baby girl,” he replied, slipping the black plastic framed glasses from his nose and popped them in his shirt pocket. “How’s the crew looking this season?”

Sitting with a sigh at the small table in the corner, Sarah stretched her long legs. “It’s looking real good this year. With Uncle Tommy, Tess, Bill, Frank, and Ellie back as always, the new folks should fit right in. I love that we have two women on deck crew.”

Joel nodded. “Tommy said they might be trouble though. He was grumbling about Ellie sassin’ him during his big welcome speech.” The father and daughter shared a good laugh knowing how seriously Tommy took his role as a leader and how hard he worked to perfect that speech over the years. “How about your stews? Ya gotta good team?”

Sarah’s eyes lit up as she nodded excitedly. “For sure! They are going to be great. Sammy has a ton of energy and is focused on hospitality, so he’ll make a great First Stew. It’ll be fun having a guy on the team, too. Talia is friendly but quiet and really organized. She’s already showing signs of taking Emmy under her wing, so she’s a perfect fit for Second Stew. And Emmy is the sweetest thing. She’s like a sponge and is really creative.”

His heart warmed seeing his daughter taking a leadership role at such a young age and already getting to know her team and how to organize them on the first day. Joel was so proud of her it made his heart hurt. “Sounds like you got it all under control. Guess it’s time for the big crew meeting. Call everyone to the main salon, please.”

Making the call over the radio for everyone to meet in the main salon, the pair of them hefted a couple of boxes of uniforms for the crew along with them. They were the first to arrive and Sarah spent the time segregating the uniforms for each crew member, laying them out on the center table for everyone to grab. Joel stood at the head of the room as the crew filtered in and took a seat on the elegant leather sectional. Once everyone was settled, he called the room to order.

“Welcome to Radiance, y’all,” Joel started before giving some facts about the yacht, his experience, and officially welcoming everyone aboard. “As we’re all adults here, I expect appropriate behavior at all times. I only have a few rules. No drinking while on charter. No fraternizing with the guests. Finally, do not embarrass me or this yacht with poor behavior. Got it?”

His darks eyes moved around the room, landing on you for a few beats too long before shifting around again. He couldn’t look at you without being distracted. That was not good.

The meeting shifted to a fun game run by Sarah to get to know each other. Once they were finished, everyone grabbed their new uniforms – a few sets of daily wear, dress whites, and black dinner wear each. They all received rash guards with the boat’s name, Radiance, on it as well, for beach excursions.

“The rest of today is a free day – I suggest you use it to get to know the boat and each other. The real work begins tomorrow as we get the yacht ready for our first charter on Tuesday.” Joel bid them farewell, heading back to the bridge with Frank. Bill also disappeared back down to the engine room, not one for socializing, especially with such a young, rambunctious crowd. Tess and Tommy stuck around, interested in getting to know the new crew members.

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After a tour of the yacht guided by Sarah and Tommy, everyone ended up in the main salon again. “Anyone up for cocktails and the hot tub?” Tommy asked the group with a cheesy smile.

“Hell yeah,” Ellie responded, already running off back to her cabin to change, leaving a trail of chuckles in her wake.

You were definitely down for an adult beverage and a dip in the hot tub. It would be nice to relax your muscles before the manual labor began tomorrow. Tess and the other girls followed you down to the crew cabins. You all gabbed and changed before heading back up to the flybridge and the bar Sarah knowingly stocked earlier.

You slipped into the hot tub with an ice-cold beer in one hand, unaware of Tommy’s heated gaze taking in the sight of you in your bathing suit as he stood nearby with his own beer in hand. You opted for something simple and modest, yet it showed off enough skin to draw the male eye.

Soon, you were joined by Tess who settled near you with a rocks glass full of amber liquid in it. “Hey,” she said, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You certainly have the Miller brothers’ attention.” Her voice was low, directed to your ears only as she gazed at you with knowing eyes.

Not knowing how to respond, your face heated for the third time since you boarded the yacht. You searched the other woman’s eyes, trying to suss out her angle. You knew from Sarah that Tess was a close friend of the Millers and had worked with Joel and Tommy for a long time. Did she have a thing for one, or both, of them and see you as unwanted competition? Whatever the deal was, you did not want to be causing drama your first day of the season!

“I’m—” a splash cut you off as Sarah hopped into the hot tub, seating herself on Tess’s other side, effectively cutting off whatever you were going to say. Good thing, too, as you had no idea what was about to come out of your mouth.

“Woah! Sorry ‘bout that,” Sarah laughed as the water continued to slosh around from her near cannonball entrance. “Are we talking about anything good?”

Tess glanced at you with a shrug. “Just getting to know one another.” Her eyes stayed on you as she took a long pull from her tumbler.

“Cool, cool. So, tell me about yourself, England,” Sarah directed at you.

Quirking a brow at the unoriginal nickname, you replied, “That the best you can do?”

The younger woman beamed at you, the sparkle in her dark eyes bringing another pair of fine eyes to mind. “For now. I’ll do better once I know more about you.”

The next half hour flew by as the three of you shared stories about yourselves. You already knew you liked Sarah from the moment you met her, but even Tess was starting to grow on you. She was sharp and resourceful with a wicked sense of humor. She was a handful of years older than you and lived quite the adventurous life.

Before long, Tommy and the other deckhand, Connor, joined the three of you in the hot tub while the other three interior staff – Sammy, Talia, and Emmy – sat along the edge not wanting to get too wet. The drinks were flowing and quite a few had been spilled into the bubbling water. No doubt there would be quite the mess to clean up tomorrow along with the rest of the deck crew duties.

You fell into conversation with Tommy, learning about his time in the military and how he followed his brother into the charter yacht industry. He asked questions about growing up in England, the time you spent sailing with your grandfather, and your competitive sailing days. He was borderline flirting, and you could tell he was reigning himself in. You learned early on that it was best not to have yacht relationships, but sometimes it was difficult to avoid when you spent 24/7 with someone in a confined space for a few months.

“I love your accent. You sound so much smarter than us Texans,” Tommy said. Americans always loved your accent, though it lost most of its edge by now.

“It’s all an illusion,” you joked. He started leaning closer to you the more alcohol he imbibed, and you could feel Tess’s heavy gaze watching the two of you. Deciding it was time to call it a night, you told the group goodnight despite their protests. Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around you and dripped your way down to the crew mess for a snack before climbing into your bunk.

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The following morning, you woke up before your alarm, hearing Tess gently snoring in the bunk above you. Wondering what time she came in last night; you dressed in your daily uniform as quietly as possible and freshened up in the bathroom. Closing the cabin door with a gentle click, you grabbed a yogurt for breakfast and made your way up to the tender storage to start your day.

It was only seven o’clock and it appeared most everyone else was still asleep, meeting no one on your journey. You took the opportunity to stroll around the deck, the salt air naturally waking you up. You stopped at the bow to gaze out at the turquoise sea. The water was flat, and a calm breeze ruffled your hair.

“G’morning,” a deep voice sounded behind you, the smell of coffee wafting through the air. Joel appeared at your side, his eyes raking over you in a pleasing way before shifting to the horizon.

“Good day, Captain,” you greeted in return, a warm smile spreading your lips. He smelled really good – freshly showered with a cologne that accentuated his natural musk. It made your mouth start to water.

Jesus, you should have gotten laid before coming onto this boat.

“Ya want some coffee?” Joel raised the mug in his hand. “I have a fresh pot going. Figured y’all would need it after last night.”

A girlish giggle escaped you before you could stop it. “I don’t drink the stuff, prefer tea, if anything. I called it a night early, but I have no doubt everyone else will need the caffeine boost.”

“Not the typical party animal yachtie then?” The view forgotten, you both turned toward each other to continue the conversation, hips leant against the railing.

“Not by half,” you laughed. “I did enough of that in my university days. Not that I don’t enjoy socializing and having a good time though. I just like to make my hangovers worth it.”

That earned a hearty chuckle from Joel. “That’s one way of putting things into perspective. And I agree, the hangover has to be worth it.”

The two of you fell into comfortable conversation, sharing tidbits about yourselves until more of the deck crew started to emerge for the day. You locked away all the things Joel shared, wanting to build the story of him in your mind.

“This was quite pleasant. We should do it again sometime, Cap’n.” Your gazes held intensely for a few beats before Joel hummed in agreement. Then, movement over your shoulder caught his attention.

“Looks like Tommy’s gatherin’ the troops. Ya better get moving, sweetheart.” Between the term of endearment and the crooked smile, you could have turned into a puddle at the handsome Captain’s feet. Instead, you flashed him your most charming smile and dashed off to join your team for a grueling day of hard work.

And grueling it was as Tommy had you all scrub and hose down every inch of the exterior, check all the equipment, and reorganize the tender storage before doing it all over again to make sure it met his exacting measures. All the while, your mind stayed occupied with thoughts of Captain Joel. Even when you slipped into your bunk, physically wiped out and barely able to call out a ‘good night’ to an equally exhausted Tess, your subconscious allowed Joel to infiltrate your dreams.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #the last of us #yacht captain!joel miller

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