#beckett fic

[inquisitornocturn]

NSFW alphabet no.4 - Beckett

Beckett was suggested by the lovely @porcelainseashore

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Beckett will stay by your side and cuddle, letting you recover and just waiting to see if you need or want anything extra. If it’s the shower you want – he will carry you there, if it’s sustenance you want – he will make sure that you have it, and if it’s just rest that you want – he will have his arm around you and let you rest for as long as you need.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Definitely a man who appreciates an ass and likes giving it some playful bites or a good smack or two. On himself Beckett likes his hands the most and if you like to hold his, or guide where you want it to touch, then you definitely got him interested. It’s a combination of both confidence in showing what you want and seeing his own hand being led lovingly and with trust.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Not really concerned with cum specifically, he does prefer not to limit himself with condoms, but if for whatever reason you ask him to wear it – Beckett will. His willingness to adapt to his partner also extends to facials, cum swallowing, etc and he will do what you ask him to do. So if you ask for none – he won’t force you into swallowing or anything else.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Beckett enjoys predator and prey play a lot, but wouldn’t admit it because for him that’s fulfilling a stereotype he doesn’t care fitting into. While he doesn’t see any shame per se to be a Gangrel, he still would prefer not to make his enjoyment of the chase a public knowledge.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Preparation and aftercare are definitely not foreign words in Beckett’s vocabulary, but he’s not too experienced. If you per chance asked him to rig up a sex swing – he’d just laugh and tell you that this is way too much (but definitely would be curious if you rigged it up yourself and invited him to try it out). So he has enough experience to leave you a total mess and satisfied, but when it comes to more niche or newer trends in the bedroom he might lack the knowledge.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy, especially if it’s in front of a mirror where he can see you watch yourself getting fucked by him. Facial expressions and reactions that Beckett can observe in you are as important to him as making you come. His very close second favorite is the mating press, again he can watch you very closely and enjoy every little micro expression you make while he’s balls deep.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

More teasing than goofy, but there will be comfortable laughs throughout if the sex is more of a lazy passion moment, than just lust. Comfortable with you and in your presence, Beckett will try to make you laugh during those relaxed nights because he enjoys seeing you happy just as much as panting and moaning.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

While he definitely tries to keep himself clean and bathed, generally Beckett does not care much to groom his body hair. If he trims his bush – he does it rarely and only if it’s needed for convenience, which again doesn’t happen that often. However, if you wish for him to trim down there, Beckett absolutely will because to him it genuinely makes no difference and if it’s something you want then he will put it enough effort to do it, but eventually will try to convince you to change your mind, because all in all, Beckett can’t really be bothered with such details.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Encouraging words and gentle touches are not out of Beckett’s repertoire, he’s very romantic when he’s deep in his feels and will make sure that you are comfortable even if the mood is rough fucking. He would never try to hurt you no matter what and will stop mid-fuck if he suspects that you are in pain or unhappy with anything at all, just to ensure that you are feeling the best you can.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Does it and often too, especially if you’re away from him and something reminds Beckett of you. For him it’s usually quick and just to get the pressure off his mind/sate the need that flares up until he can actually be with you again. He also likes to tease you with it, letting you walk in on him slowly stroking it and telling you with a smile that it’s because you don’t give him enough attention.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Outside sex. Beds are comfortable, but nothing beats the thrill of fucking under the stars or in some old forgotten tomb Beckett is visiting. If he can, he will always arrange sex to happen outside of whatever haven you two reside in.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As mentioned above – somewhere outside, but for him having you bent over some tomb or a historical relic is just the best. Of course, he won’t risk it if the fucking could damage whatever surface he wants you on, but if after inspection it is safe – then you’re not escaping his passion.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Generally Beckett is more or less a loner, preferring to do things on his own and at his own pace, but with you, his chosen partner, the fact that you are with him is already a turn on. If you’re as passionate about same things he is, like uncovering the origins of Kindred, he will rarely lose his erection.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

With new age pet play is something Beckett absolutely won’t participate in, not only because he can actually shapeshift into a wolf, but also because he doesn’t believe in submission in such way.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving, receiving, observing, anything goes. He’s very skilled at it himself and does expect you to know what you’re doing with his cock as well, but he won’t mind teaching you exactly what he likes. Same way he will ask and make sure that he is giving in the exact way that you enjoy most.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Prefers fast but sensual. Deep thrusts that make you gasp and mewl until you’re out of breath, but as a treat he will sometimes take it slow, as if to tease you until you’re begging for more, for release, for him to go faster.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Beckett does not enjoy being rushed, but will do it even if he will act as if he’s doing so begrudgingly and only because you want it, but you both know that he enjoys them and the thrill they bring. Just don’t try to distract him if he’s doing something really important, like trying not to get killed for example!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s the man of a mind that is willing to try everything at least once and usually he doesn’t take much to be convinced to try out a new toy or a new position, but he will rarely bring it up himself, leaving leading such experimentations to be your avenue.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Generally, Beckett can go for several rounds but prefers not to. He’s a man who’s always on a mission, so to speak, so spending entire night in bed is not something he actually wants to do except on very rare occasions. Such occasions might arise when you two need to remain in haven for a night or two, then he will take his time and show you how exactly he can ruin you (in the best way possible of course). Leaving you so exhausted that you can’t even get out of bed without assistance.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Beckett doesn’t own toys but if you do – he will use them on you. On himself he’s not too eager, being old-fashioned in that way, but he would never deny you, so toys, if you wish so, are very present in the bedroom. He doesn’t see them as competition, but as help to reduce you to a whimpering mess, which is the state Beckett enjoys seeing you the most in.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Very teasing, very cheeky. Beckett will pull out and pretend that he doesn’t know what you want until you’re frustrated and begging, or he won’t let you reach your climax just yet, grinning and telling you to spell out exactly what you need and how.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Medium loud. Not whispering, but not the screaming type either, but loud enough that not only you are absolutely sure he’s lost in the moment, but whoever might be trying to listen in as well. He often forgets himself if you two are somewhere where being quiet is the better option and you will need to silence him yourself just to remain discreet.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Beckett loves when a person with strong character submits to him sexually. On your knees sucking him off or whimpering under him, if he knows that otherwise you can rip off kine heads with your bare hands without a problem or lead a coterie – then he will be ever so much more inclined to see you vulnerable and undone, it’s like a special type of power trip to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Slightly bigger than average and has a nice curve that hits just right when he’s all inside of you. The tip is slightly smaller than the shaft and the middle of it is the thickest.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

With a right partner – Beckett will be very sexually active, but you will need to show him that’s what you want first before he learns how high your own sex drive is. However, if you encourage him to indulge as often as he wants, he will do so without a problem and very, very often, not slowing down unless you ask him to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

First to fall asleep because if he’s with you and just had sex – that means both of you are safe and most importantly, you are safe in his arms. So he easily lets himself to succumb to slumber without any worries until next night.

[darkeralmond]

beckett with a size kink.. literally that’s it maybe some praise/degrading kink

OH CELESTE WHAT WOULD I DO W/O U ILYSM GIRL ❤️❤️

DOMINANCE OVER YOU

Beckett Sennecke x fem! Reader

synopsis: beckett is obsessed with how much bigger he is compared to you since it makes him feel like he more confident and dominant

warnings: 18+, smut, size kink, fingering, oral (f! recieving), sm dirty talk oml, swearing

word count: 1k

a/n: everyone say thank u celeste for this request. i have been so obsessed w beckett and i needed an excuse to write about him stat. thank u all sm for the support as i come back from my hiatus ilysm!! ❤️❤️

You had always been insecure about your petite size. You were shorter than the girls in your high school, and you could barely fit in your uniform. Even though you hated how small you were, your boyfriend was obsessed with it. He was obsessed with you.

Beckett was 6’2 and he took pride in the fact he towered over you. Beckett loved to carry you in his arms like a princess. It made you feel special to be in his arms because he never touched anyone except for you. Not to mention everything about you was smaller than him, so it made him feel dominance over you.

The two of you were making out on his bed when you suddenly felt him move. You were so caught up in his kiss that you weren’t paying attention until he pinned you down by your wrists and began pushing himself against you.

He broke the kiss and moved his lips down to your neck. You were super ticklish, so when he started to nibble you giggled. He then began placing dark bruises on the right side of your neck, causing you to let out an involuntary moan. You had never been this aroused and turned on before him, and he knew that.

“Look at you being so helpless,” Beckett rasped before he continued to mark your neck. You wanted to make a snarky comment back, but the magic of his mouth left you breathless. You could only whimper at his touch and beg him to stop teasing, though your voice came out quiet though.

His hand moved down from your wrist to grip your thigh. His thumbs rubbed circles around your inner thigh before slid his hand down your pajama shorts. He used one of his fingers to tease your clit before he inserted his finger inside you.

His hands were large compared to you, so he slowly slid his fingers in for you to adjust. You gasped loudly as your walls tightly clutched around his fingers. “That’s it. Take it like a good girl,” he whispered in your ear before kissing your earlobe.

After you adjusted comfortably, you bucked your hips into his hand while he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were a whining mess underneath him, squirming to feel more of him. “I love hearing you like this. I know it feels really good, doesn’t it? Who’s my good girl?”

“I-I am,” you whispered, but it came out as a stutter. Your breathing became short and rapid as you grew closer to your climax.

“Louder, baby.” He then curled his fingers causing you to arch your back.

“Me! I am,” you cried. “Oh, fuck!”

When his hand stopped moving inside you, you let out a disappointed moan. You weren’t finished yet and he abruptly stopped. You felt like you needed more stimulation. He obviously knew this since chuckled in response before placing soft kisses on your jaw.

“You like this don’t you?” he husked between kisses. “Having me do things to you? You want more right?” He pulled his fingers out before sucking your juices from them. “You taste amazing.” You felt your face burn and you couldn’t help blushing.

He then lowered himself down to your waist causing you to squirm as you watching him lift your shirt to expose your stomach. He pulled your shorts and panties down before looking up at you with his innocent blue eyes. With a wicked grin, he rasped, “So eager for more.”

He wrapped him arms around your thighs, pinning you down with his hands on your stomach. He then lowered his head between your legs and dipped his tongue between your folds.

The overwhelming feeling caused you let out a shuttered exhale. His fingers grazed your stomach while the tip of his tongue flicked against your bud. You writhed beneath his grasp, bucking your hips forward while he held you down. You looked down at him and met his gaze. A devilish grin appeared on his face as he watched you struggle to move.

Once he got to the spot where you were throbbing, he pulled away leaving you panting. The look on his face reminded you of an excited puppy who just got his favorite toy.

You tried desperately to keep yourself under control but you found it hard. The way he licked, teased, and flicked your clit had you wanting more and more.

“Do you want more?” he asked. He moved his thumb up from your bellybutton to your clit, playing with it while still looking up at you. You sucked in cold air through your teeth as your head fell back. “Come on, baby. Use your words.”

His tone and touch drove you insane. You needed him more than anything. “Please, Beckett. I need you,” you desperately pleaded. He grinned before placing another soft kiss on your swollen clit.

His strokes became sloppy and slow, your folds wet with a mixture of his saliva and your juices. Your eyes fluttered as held your breath when you finally hit the peak of your climax.

You felt Beckett’s tongue swirl around the rim of your hole before he removed his mouth and rolled off of you. You began the process of catching your breath while you laid back down exhausted, yet satisfied. He laid down next to you before he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You snuggled up against him, enjoying his warmth while you recovered from your orgasm. One thing Beckett loved after sexually torturing you was taking care of you afterwards.

Beckett ran his finger tips along your spine as he whispered, “I am such a lucky guy.” You hummed in agreement and buried your face in his chest. He smelled amazing, something masculine and sweet.

You closed your eyes while he stroked your back. “You should let me give you a blow job sometime,” you giggled.

“Uh, yes please!” he laughed before he kissed the top of your forehead.

[sophiebaek]

Sophie is Korean!

Things to keep in mind

———

Yay! Sophie Baek is finally here and with all of excitement of this casting, I think it’s also important to bring attention to the new intersectionality that comes with the character of Sophie (specifically show Sophie).

Why should you take my words into account? Well, as an Asian woman in society today, I feel that I am qualified to speak on this topic since I’ve experienced all of this.

All of my words come from kind intentions, and I purely just want to communicate to the fandom how to approach Sophie being Asian in a respectful way.

Asia is a gigantic continent filled with various countries that have a multitude of cultures and ethnicities. While on the surface they all seem similar, they each have their own customs and traditions that have meaning within our culture. Do not combine them.

It’s important to remember that not every Asian person is Chinese, Japanese or Korean (East asian).

With Sophie being Korean, please do not generalize when writing about what you think you know about Korean culture.

You like Kpop and Kdrama? Great! BUT that does not define what Korean culture is and you shouldn't use that content as a reference.

When writing, be aware of explicit and unconscious biases you have about Asian people.

Asian stereotypes (Model Minority, Dragon Lady, Lotus blossom, etc) are very harmful and spread false narratives about us. Stereotypes eliminate the dimensions of who we are as Asians (South, South East, East, North, West).

Please, please, please do not fetishize. Especially since Bridgerton is a romance series it's extremely important to be mindful of the scenarios you put in your fics.

This also includes the White Savior Complex we see a lot in media!

If you’re writing about something specific, research it and fully understand the content you are putting into your work. Feel a little iffy about if you should put it in your fic? Probably don’t then. It’s that easy!

It's always great to ask someone who is a part of the community as well to see if what you're writing about is appropriate or potentially offensive in any way.

Describing Sophie is something new as well. Be mindful on how you describe her and other Asian characters.

Let me be clear: descriptions like 'slanted eyes' or 'yellow skin' are harmful

Here are some great resources that go into further detail about specific things! Rather than me paraphrasing their words it's best to link the direct source. Even as a part of this community, these articles were a reminder of how I must keep myself in check as well!

Describing Asian Eyes

Some important tips on making/writing Asian OCs

writing east asian characters

The Depiction of Asian Characters - Book Edition

The Dragon Lady, the Lotus Blossom, and the Robot: Archetypes of Asian Women in Western Media

To wrap this up, I want to be clear that I’m not a professional on this topic, but as someone who has been affected by harmful portrayals in media, I feel compelled to share my perspective. My hope is to spread awareness and encourage others to be mindful of how they approach these subjects, especially if they may not be fully informed. It’s about showing respect, doing the necessary research, and recognizing the impact our words and content can have on real people and cultures. By staying educated and considerate, we can be more aware and thoughtful in our actions.

[j2hoes]

Eshay Baby. (Anthony Vaughn x Chook's Sister Reader)

Word Count: 5.8K

Y/N Cooper and Anthony Vaughn had a complicated relationship, which becomes even more complex following the reveal of the incest map.

WARNING: This work is not intended for those under the age of eighteen as it does have mature content. This story deals with alcohol, sexual content, drugs, explicit language, violence, death and triggering topics such as sexual assault and abuse.

A/N: I really hope you enjoy this fic as much as I do, I am a sucker for an ex's to lovers trope! This will be an ongoing series with each chapter correlating to a different episode! Love you! x

Fuck you Monday.

I am not a bad person. At least, I don’t believe I am. Research suggests that people become products of their environments, in fact, there’s an entire theory surrounding the self-fulfilling prophecy which suggests that if environmental factors such as the people and community surrounding you believe you will turn out a certain way, you will. It’s something to do with the phrase ‘if that’s what people think I am, then that’s what I will be.’ For as long as I’ve been alive, I have done my best to combat this. Not wanting to prove the countless social workers, mental health professionals, teachers and police correct. I am a good person.

My brother on the other hand, that’s slightly more complicated. He’s four years older than me, he understands and remembers more of our childhood than I do. It’s not something that we often talk about, him opting to avoid the subject entirely not wanting to reminisce on the past. His words not mine. I don’t blame him for this, nothing I can remember is positive. Being passed from one distant relative to the next, each being significantly worse than the last. Until one day we ended up at the home. I can only imagine what other horrors he may remember.

Hence why I stated it’s complicated, everything he does, he does for us. That’s the way it’s always been. Not once has he failed to protect me, agreeing to be my legal guardian the moment he turned eighteen in order to remove me from the clutches of any government mandated home. I’ll forever be grateful to him for that, and so I could never argue that he isn’t a selfless man. Not when it comes to family.

Others may disagree with me, believing he is cruel, callous and cold. Inherently evil is a term that has been used to describe him many times before. I’ll be the first to admit that there are times when I don’t agree with his actions. However, I don’t believe this defines him as a person. People are so complex and have many different layers that somebody cannot be defined by one small thing. So would I say he’s a good person? No, but I also wouldn’t say he’s a bad person. He’s just different.

“Your brother said to tell you he’s setting off in ten minutes so to make sure you’re ready.”

The soft voice at my doorway startles me, too focused on applying my lipgloss to notice the boy standing in the doorway. As I glance up at him through my mirror, I’m hit by the unmistakable stench of marijuana that seems to flood the room. My nose scrunches, slightly disgusted by the thought of my brother and his friends getting high in the living room at eight am on a monday morning. Continuing to apply multiple layers of the shimmery pink gloss, I notice the figure is still standing in my doorway, his back turned to me, stance appearing almost awkward as he scratches the back of his head nervously.

“Cash you can come in.”

He turns to face me, hesitantly stepping through the threshold into my bedroom with a small smile on his face. Closing the old wooden door behind him, only to almost be knocked out by the numerous bags I have hung up on the back of my door.

“That’s a lot of bags.” He comments, resulting in a small laugh from me due to him stating the obvious.

Beginning to gather my textbooks, notebooks and any other supplies I may need for school, I notice Cash standing silently simply observing my bedroom. It’s a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Walls painted a burnt amber with photos and posters plastered up anywhere I could reach. Crocheted blankets are thrown over every piece of furniture in the room and my window stays wide open, allowing the bright morning light to flood the room, the gentle breeze blowing just enough to allow a melodic hum to reverberate through my wind chime.

“Your bedroom is nice. It’s homely.” Cash tells me, waiting patiently as I continue to throw things into my bag.

“Not a chance in hell was I letting Chook decorate my bedroom with graffiti.” I laugh, throwing my chunky black cardigan over my shoulders before the eshay opens the door for me, being the gentleman that he is and allowing me to exit first. “There’s another spray paint to cover a skatepark in here as it is.”

My finger traces one of the many swirls of blue spray paint that lines the hallway as I speak, eliciting a chuckle from the boy that follows behind me. Entering the lounge, I find Jayden and Tilla sprawled out on the sofa, eyes glazed over and it’s clear that they’re both stoned out of their minds. Chook sits on the armchair that he’s claimed as his own, nobody else dares to sit there, knowing it’s his seat. He’s playing with the car keys in his hands, eyes fixed on the unconscious man laid out at his feet. Occasionally nudging him with his foot in an attempt to humor himself.

“Who’s that?” I question, capturing my brother’s attention for the first time since we set foot in the lounge.

“Fuck knows brah, couldn’t handle his drinks though clearly.”

With one last surprisingly gentle kick to the stomach, Chook rises from the chair. Ruffling my hair as he strolls past me and towards the front door, much to my annoyance. I sigh quietly, swiftly smoothing my hair down, to which Cash does his best to muffle his laugh as we follow my brother out the door. Stepping over yet another unconscious man as we leave the house.

Hartley High is only a twenty minute drive, most of which I spend in silence, trying my best to enjoy the drum and bass that erupts out of the speakers as we fly down the streets of Sydney. Chook was never one for following the speed limit, no matter how many times I lectured him on the importance of driving safely.

We pull into the car park outside of school with an ear piercing screech, slamming to a halt directly outside the gates, the unnecessary amount of noise causes many students to look in our direction. Many whispering to their friends as they gawk at us, I do my best to keep my head down as I clamber out of the vehicle. Embarrassed by the commotion Chook has caused.

“Don’t get expelled!” Chook yells out of the car window as Cash and I trudge reluctantly towards the quad. Not wanting to dignify him with a response, I simply throw my middle finger up behind me, hearing his raucous laughter followed by the screech of his tires on the asphalt once again.

“You reckon this year will be any better?” Cash inquires, knuckles white due to how tight he is clenching the strap of his fanny pack that is thrown over his shoulder. He’s nervous. Contrary to what people believe, Cash is a sweet boy. He’s so loving, caring, considerate and kind, he has a lot to offer the world we live in. Nobody seems to see this though. Believing Cash is a good for nothing eshay that will make nothing of himself upon leaving school, most likely following in the footsteps of his mother and ending up in prison. Even he himself believes this.

“I don’t know mate, maybe for you, I mean you technically don’t even need to be here. I don’t have a choice unfortunately.”

“Yeah but that just means you’re stuck with me for another year kiddo.”

“I am literally a year younger than you.” I sulk, giving him a gentle shove in order to express my annoyance. “Besides, you wouldn’t have screwed me if you saw me as a kid.”

Cash stops in his tracks completely, I smirk, pleased that I’ve rendered him completely speechless and offer him a quick wink from over my shoulder as he jogs to catch up to me. We agreed to never speak of it. A one night hook up when we were both heavily under the influence of certain illegal substances. My heart was in pieces following the breakdown of mine and a particular church going brunette’s secret relationship. If you could even call it a relationship, we never exactly labeled anything, nor made anything public. However, it felt as though my heart had shattered, I’d never experienced anything like that before. Not even the pain of my childhood compared to this.

One thing led to another and Cash and I were stumbling into bed together. Both of us knew it was wrong, Chook would kill Cash if he ever found out. Fortunately it only happened once and while I wouldn’t say that I regret it, it did definitely put a strain on our friendship for a while. Mostly due to him being terrified of me telling my brother.

Remembering the memory, I can’t help but smile to myself. Even if it was just for that one night, Cash made me feel whole again. Like I was worthy of finding love. The dopamine from the positive recollection seems to crash like a wave over my body, uplifting my mood drastically despite heading into what is ultimately prison for the next seven hours. That is until I catch a glimpse of the one person I was hoping to avoid completely for the next year.

Anthony Vaughn.

“Oi there’s a fully gacked sex map in the old stairwell.” Shouts from the redheaded girl catch my attention and I’m grateful to be provided a distraction. “It’s called the incest map!”

Students from all directions flock together in a sprint towards the old stairwell. The scene could be described as something out of a nature documentary when a pack of wild animals chase after their prey together. It’s wild and chaotic, completely undignified. So, with a quick glance at one another, Cash and I also follow the crowd, taking off in a run to identify what a ‘sex map’ truly is, and why it is so interesting that the entirety of our school is racing at full speed just to catch a glimpse.

I thank my lucky stars that I’m not claustrophobic when I eventually manage to squeeze my way through the horde of students. Names are scrawled in huge letters across the wall, each with different lines and symbols linking one to another. There’s a key chart to the left hand side and it’s safe to say nobody’s sexual endeavours were safe due to how graphic the key chart was.

The usual suspects are on the map, those who aren’t quiet about their partaking in hookup culture, such as Darren and Dusty. Those in relationships are also unsurprising, for example Missy and Sasha are of course linked, having only just recently broken up. Other names however do manage to shock me, for one I was not expecting to see Quinni’s name on the map, nor was I expecting Cash. Following the three lines connected to his name, it’s only then that I realize in bright red letters accompanied by a pair of devil horns, is my name.

Y/N - hooked up - Cash. Y/N - blowie - Spider. Y/N - fucked - Ant. Y/N - destined - Ant.

With each passing second it feels like my heart has stopped, secrets revealed to the world that were supposed to never see the light of day. How did anybody know about this? Sure, Spider may have blabbed about me giving him a blowjob, most likely bragging to his two best mates about it as though I’m his latest conquest. However, what happened between Cash and I, as well as Ant and I was meant to be kept quiet.

With trembling hands, I begin to anxiously scan the room, looking for any sign that somebody other than myself may have noticed my name. Catching the eye of the brunette, who stands timidly between Dusty and Spider, I discern that he is just as concerned as I am. Fearful of the consequences of this coming out.

“Yo Ant, you fucked the eshay’s sister? Nice one bro.” Dusty shouts, clapping his friend on the back which only leads to the red blush on his face to creep to an even deeper crimson.

“You got further with her than I ever did.” Spider comments, a mischievous smirk spread across his lips. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Ant simply lowers his head, eyes focusing on his shoes which appear to be a lot more interesting than the map in front of him. I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt that he won’t speak about us, but at the same time, I understand. With mates like his, I would want to keep things hidden from them too, especially if this is how they react. Not to mention his overly religious family upbringing and the overwhelming amount of shame he is afraid of bringing on his family.

“Hey, you okay?” Cash whispers, hand faintly grazing mine in a subtle attempt to offer his support.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Offering the mullet wearing boy a forced smile, trying to cover up the embarrassment of suddenly being the center of attention.

Continuing to stare at the map in disbelief, only the shouts of rowdy teenagers can be heard as they find more and more connections on the map that they hadn’t seen upon their first inspection. A few even run out in tears, the map ruining many people’s relationships, outing people and just causing pure humiliation for everybody that has their name scribbled across the wall.

“Hey, do you reckon if we ask real nice, Y/N will let us double dick her?” Spider asks Ant obnoxiously loud, nudging him as they both look over in my direction. Humorless expression evident on my face. “What, we’ve both already been there.”

Spider’s comment is directed to me, with him and Dusty both finding the utmost amusement in the entire situation. Ant, on the other hand, looks as though he wants the floor to swallow him whole, unable to make eye contact with me.

“Are you sure you’d be able to get it up? You and I both know how difficult it was for you last time and that was just for a blowie.” Without giving Spider a chance to respond, I’m pushing through the sea of teenagers, who are now staring eagle eyed between the blonde boy and myself. Invested in the very minor argument between us, a chorus of laughter can be heard at Spider’s expense. Even Dusty seems to take amusement in the mortification of his friend. As I brush past the trio, it’s hard to ignore the self-consciousness on their leader’s face. I can’t help but feel a small sense of pride, knowing that my comment really got under his skin. Eyes trailing over each of the guys, I notice that Ant is already looking at me, a regretful look on his face.

Unlike his two mates, Ant has always been the more caring of the three. Whilst still partaking, somewhat reluctantly, in the shenanigans that the other boys rope him into, he has always had more of a guilty consciousness. Often disclosing the amount of regret and guilt he felt due to some of their actions. Though, he made me swear that information to secrecy, not wanting the boys to view him as weaker. It’s one thing we regularly argued about, with him being unable to fathom the idea that having morals and a consciousness doesn’t make you any less of a man.

The deafening shrill of the school bell sounds whilst I stomp across the quad, alerting me of the fact that I should be headed towards the gym for the mandatory back to school assembly. Yet, I can’t bring myself to face it. Wanting to avoid Spider for a little while longer while I can in the hopes of steering clear of another confrontation. Half an hour into the new school year and I’m already wagging, what a great start.

Without turning to look back, I can hear the shuffle of feet as everybody begins to pile out of the old stairwell. Heading into the main school building, still, I tread on. Doing my best to sneak behind the science block and finding solace in the old dunnies that were closed off to students back in the nineties. Technically, nobody is supposed to be back here, I’m risking detention just by being here, though Cash and I continue to use it as a safe space to hide from the world whenever we need peace.

Rummaging through my bag, I’m quick to find the box of Marlboro Gold’s that I always keep stashed at the bottom, just on the odd occasion that I do feel the urge to smoke. It used to be a rare occurrence, these days, unfortunately it seems to be more of a recurring problem. I’ve hidden the habit from just about everyone in my life, not that Chook would care, he’s done far worse that I ever have. I just don't want people to perceive me as any less that they do now, I know smoking is a dirty horrible habit and yet I can’t seem to quit. So, as I spark my lighter, inhaling the toxic fumes, I begin to take comfort in the calm that fills my body from the lungs outward.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t think anyone was gonna be in here.”

My eyes sweep up from the ground, and if the baggy jeans and tie dyed jumper weren’t enough of a give away as to who stood before me the cross chain hanging from his neck certainly did. It’s the first time he’s actually spoken to me directly since the night everything came crumbling down eight weeks ago. When my eyes lock with his, I can’t help but take in his beauty as if it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him and before I can react the cigarette is falling out of my fingers.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

He points to the ciggie that is now beginning to burn out on the concrete floor. With an awkward laugh, I quickly pick it up, stubbing it out on the wall, humiliated that he caught me.

“I don’t really,” Playing with the ends of my hair as I desperately try to think of an excuse that doesn’t truly reveal the extent of my habit.

“Just needed to destress after this morning.”

“Yeah, crazy morning, right?” Ant asks, leaning against the doorframe as he attempts to make small talk with me. “Actually, do you have another one of those?”

With raised eyebrows I nod swiftly, pulling the pack out of my bag and offering them to him along with my lighter. He lights his and I do the same, after all I didn’t exactly get to finish the first one on account of dropping it on the ground.

“You wagging assembly too?”

My voice is quiet, unsure on whether he actually wants me to make conversation with him or he’d prefer to sit in silence. Despite my best attempts to not make it obvious, I watch as he takes a drag from the ciggie, allowing the smoke to delicately fall from his lips. It’s awkward not knowing where I stand with him, sure, what happened was a while ago now and I’d assumed we’d both moved on but that doesn’t make the entire situation any less awkward.

“Couldn’t face it, Spider and Dusty wouldn’t stop hounding me for all the details and I just needed some space.” Ant admits, picking at the skin around his fingers between drags.

“Oh right, I can leave if you want some space, I don’t mind.”

Grabbing my bag and hauling myself off the window ledge, I throw the end of my ciggie to the ground, ready to leave. That is until his hand grabs mine gently, his touch soft as I’m forced to stop and look at him.

“No, stay. You should stay.”

Ant offers me a small smile before letting go of my hand, the touch so fleeting and yet it still manages to make my heart flutter even just the tiniest bit. Sitting beside him on the cold, mucky floor, not minding the dirt if it means that Ant and I are one step closer to mending our friendship. Truthfully, I miss him. I miss him as a friend more so than anything. Our bond was one that you don’t find much in life, one that others struggle to comprehend.

“I owe you an apology.” His words catch me off guard, unaware that he felt the need to apologize to me, let alone, doing so on the first day back at school. Granted it hasn’t been any ordinary first day back. “I was a complete dickhead to you and you didn’t deserve it-”

“Ant you don’t need to explain yourself.”

“Nah, I do. I think I knew I couldn’t be the guy you deserved, and I got scared. It’s no excuse, I know that. Just believe me, I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said to you that night, I was so pissed, honestly, I hardly remember any of it. All I know is I woke up with the worst hangover of my life and you weren’t there.” He stops for a moment, collecting his thoughts with furrowed eyebrows, trying his best to put what he wants to say into words. “You weren’t there and then I saw the messages. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t ever want to hurt you.”

He’s staring at me intently, eyes trying to find any glimmer of emotion on my face in an attempt to determine what I’m thinking. Opening my mouth to respond, I find myself rendered completely speechless. As I focus on Ant, I can see the worry in his eyes. Uneasy as to what I may have to say.

“Shit, sorry, I’m no good with words, I-”

“Stop talking Ant.” I mumble, putting an end to his rant before he can even properly begin. “Cheers for the apology, it means a lot.”

“Do you hate me?” The question is blurted out before he can stop himself. Shocking even himself judging by the way his widened followed by his head falling to his hands.

“I could never hate you. You should know that.” I tell him, his whole body instantly less tense as the relief floods through him. “I’ve actually really missed my friend. We should’ve never complicated things.”

I almost miss it, but there’s a flash of pain in the browns of his eyes as I say those last words, though he nods in agreement. The silence that follows is no longer awkward, instead it’s tranquil. Plainly embracing the warmth of the early morning sun in one another’s presence feels relaxing compared to the events that unfolded prior. Blissfully enjoying the reblossoming of our once torn apart friendship.

“If it isn’t Anthony Vaughn and Y/N Y/LN. You’ve not even been back a day and you’re already wagging.” Ms Woods’ tone is extremely unimpressed as she addresses us, evidently not happy that we’re getting into trouble this quickly. Ant and I can’t help but hold in matching mischievous grins. “My office now!”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So what were you and Ant doing in the dunnies together?” Cash mumbles the minute my brother is out of earshot and inside Harry’s diner, no doubt trying to chat up all the girls who are trying to eat their chippies in peace.

Slapping him straight in the chest, my eyes flicker towards the door of the diner, wary that Chook will pop out at any second and overhear our conversation. He feigns annoyance, dramatically throwing his hand up to his chest, acting as if I’ve just shot him.

“Oh my god, nothing!”

“I saw your names on the map Y/N, can you blame me for thinking you were trying to cop a root?”

“Shut the fuck up! Nothing happened okay?” I whisper as aggressively as I can, playing with the hem of my pinstripe mini dress in the hopes that I can distract myself from this conversation.

“I dunno, Amerie seemed to think you two were destined.”

“Who’s destined?”

Chook’s voice alarms me, head snapping up to spot the slightly older, male version of myself walking only mere feet away from Cash and I. His casual demeanor suggests he hasn’t overheard the rest of our conversation for which I’m thankful. Locking eyes with Cash, I shake my head in the subtlest way possible so he knows not to say a word. If Chook found out about the map, not only would I be dead, but Cash as well, so it’s in the best interest of both of us not to open our mouths about yesterday’s events.

“Spider and his imaginary girlfriend. That boy is gonna be in a serious relationship with his hand for the foreseeable future.” The lie slips off my tongue so easily that it’s rather concerning. Chook doesn’t question me, though why would he? I learned from the best.

“Sure. You prepared for the cemetery tonight kid?” Chook asks Cash, not even bothering to look up at him as he stashes the boot of the car with countless amounts of junk food he had just collected from Harry’s. “Thank god you stayed at school for another year, since this little bitch didn’t wanna take over as our connect.”

“My bad that I didn’t wanna be running around, pushing drugs for you for the rest of my school life.” I argue, Chook pulling faces as I speak in response. Deciding that this is an argument not worth having today, after all, it’s one we’ve had many times before.

“Yeah, all good brah.” Cash chimes in, answering Chook’s question to put an end to our petty argument before we can take it even further. Before we can get physically violent, even if it is only in a playful manner.

“You two best get going hey, maximize profit and all that.”

Cash doesn’t need any further instruction, hopping on his motorbike after passing me his fanny pack to store in the bag on the back. Something he always does in order to ensure that all his supply is kept perfectly safe while he drives. I’d consider it smart if I didn’t know it was drugs he was keeping safe. Chook jumps in his car, nodding in our direction as he flies out of the car park with Jayden and Tilla shouting out of the window at us. I can’t help but smile at their antics.

Cash offers me a hand on to the back of his bike, hiking my tiny dress up even further so that I can throw my leg over the vehicle. Wrapping my arms around his waist tightly, he watches in his mirror for me to nod before taking off. A habit he picked up when he first began to drive me around on what I like to call his ‘death trap’.

Dance music is belting from the many speakers when we arrive at the cemetery, a fire pit glowing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor as people crowd around it. The sun is already setting as we arrive, illuminating the party in a way that looks angelic. Upon reaching one of the many piles of drinks, it’s hard to notice Amerie dancing crazily, along with Darren, Quinni and Malachai. I point it out to Cash, the pair of us surprised that she has any friends left considering her actions.

Parting ways with the eshay I find taking a swig from one of the numerous vodka bottles before grabbing a bottle of bus, watching as Cash immediately begins to get to work, Sasha instantly running over to him the moment she spots him alone. Rolling my eyes, I plant myself further away from the party, sat with my back against one of the decrepit headstones.

I’ve always been more of an introvert. Opting to be a wallflower and observe rather than be the center of attention, unlike my fellow classmates who all seem to thrive when the spotlight is on them. I hate Amerie for forcing me into that spotlight.

Between sips of the slightly warm lager, I begin to roll myself a joint, figuring I may as well attempt to have a good time at the party. Even if it isn’t my ideal Tuesday night. I couldn’t let Cash come on his own though, not when he’s working for my brother.

“You are a bad girl Y/N Y/L/N.” Ant’s voice shouts from a short distance away, strolling towards me with a cheeky grin slapped across his face. “What is this? The second time I’ve caught you smoking now?”

“Right well I was just about to offer to share this with you but I guess not now.” I joke, lighting it up as Ant flops down beside me. “And technically, I haven’t even smoked this yet so you’ve only caught me once.”

“It totally counts!” Ant argues, waiting patiently as I take a couple of puffs before handing him the joint. “How’d your brother take it when he found out about the map?”

“You’re safe if that’s what you’re asking. I haven’t told him and he’s not the type of bloke that answers the phone when Woodsy rings.” He hands the joint back to me, fingers brushing mine tenderly. “Your mum?

“Not great. Amerie really fucked things up for me, I have to go to church three more times a week now, all because of one wristy and well you know.”

“Did you tell her the truth about us?” I inquire, wondering if he did come clean completely about our situationship of sorts.

“Nah, I told her it was just the once.” He admits, glancing at me sheepishly, almost embarrassed to recount the memory. “Figured that was better than telling her the truth. I may have also turned her that you were my girlfriend at the time, you know, to kind of make it better. Not that she approves of premarital sex or anything and I know we didn’t label what we were but it sounded better in the moment. I hope that’s okay.”

“Lying to your mother Anthony, that’s not very christian of you!” I gasp, to which he snatches the joint back out of my hand in retaliation, laughing along with me.

“Fuck yourself.” Ant chuckles, blowing the smoke directly in my face without any warning, causing me to descend into a fit of coughs.

“What’s the deal with you and Cash anyway? You two a thing now?” Ant’s not looking up at me when he speaks, all his attention fixated on the crowd of teenagers partying in the distance. Anxiously pulling blades of grass from the ground beneath me, I continue to gaze at him, a sigh falling from my lips as I had hoped he hadn’t noticed the line between Cash and my name. It was inevitable that it was going to come up, I had just hoped it would be something that people skirted around, not asking any direct questions.

“Nah.” The word is faint, shaking my head, my eyes fall on the boy in question, completely unaware that we are speaking about him as he stands in conversation with Darren. “We’re just mates.”

The boy nods besides me though I can tell he doesn’t truly believe me, still unable to look in my direction. Nudging him slightly, I give a small smile when he does hesitantly face me. “We hooked up once a few weeks ago, I was pretty much black out and he was just there. It was a fucking stupid decision.”

“Just mates though?” Ant asks, more of a rhetorical question, as if to reassure himself, much to my confusion as I can’t see why it would matter to him whether we were just mates or not. “Okay but who was better?”

Bloodshot eyes and a lazy smile indicate to me that the joint has hit him quicker than either of us expected. Warm blush present on his cheeks, his head tipped back against the headstone , gazing up at the stars that begin to light up the late summer skies.

“You’re so stoned.” I comment, completely dodging the question in the hopes that he’s too high to remember what he had even asked.

“Just like old times, yeah.”

Ant’s fingers brush over my hand just barely, the touch so slight that I wouldn’t have felt it had I not been looking in that direction. Thumb softly tracing circles across the back of my palm, skin feeling as though its been set alight with every small movement. Turning my head, I find Ant already staring at me, mouth curved upwards into a slight smile.

“I wish I never cooked it with you.”

Despite knowing that he is as high as a kite, his words still manage to catch me off guard. Forcing me to pull away, leaning back to take him in properly. From his somber expression to the deep intensity with which he looks at me, awaiting a reaction.

“Cops!” Before I can respond, shouts from the party grab my attention. Head spinning round to see the chaos unfolding, teenagers running in every direction, some scream, whilst others laugh. “Cops! The cops are coming!”

“Oh shit.”

Discarding the bottle I had been nursing, I hop to my feet within seconds, Ant, who now looks surprisingly sober, does the same. Without hesitation, he is grabbing my hand before we take off in a sprint, running in the opposite direction of the flashing lights and sirens that are rolling up to the gatho. As the crowds disperse, I find myself scanning through the seas of people, looking for a certain eshay that would get into a lot of trouble, should he be caught. “Where’s Cash?” Voice breathy, I force Ant and I to a halt, searching my entire field of vision for any sign of him, head spinning so fast that I’m shocked I didn’t give myself vertigo. “Ant, I can’t see him. Where’s Cash?”

“Y/N we need to go.”

With his free hand, Ant easily slides it around my waist, using all his strength to pry my feet from the pavement. Regardless of my unwillingness, I allow the boy to lead us away from the party. Not wanting to run the risk of getting caught, so instead I recite prayers in my head that Cash also hasn’t been caught.

Upon reaching the locked gate, Ant wastes no time in easily pushing me up so that I can scramble over the metal. He does so with ease, a proud display of his strength and it makes me blush. Reminiscing on the ways he used that strength before.

Running hand in hand down the noiseless streets of Sydney, I find myself giggling at tonight’s events. The prospect of an exciting, if slightly chaotic year eleven rises upon the horizon and I can’t help but display my enthusiasm at seeing where the next few months take me. (Hopefully, with Ant by my side, but nobody needs to know that.)

[homestylehughes]

don't you ever grow up

pairing(s) beckett sennecke x fem!reader

summary: beckett and yn throughout the years falling in love with each other.

warning(s): none. just some pure teeth rotting fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

an: hi loves!! new fic about a new pookie!! Beckett!! ughhhh I love this fic so much. I was inspired by a Taylor swift song..no surprise here!! i loved writing this so much, its so sweet and cute. I wasn't too sure how to write Beckett, so I just kinda went with it LOL. also I love the header I made, its just so?? cute LOL! anyways! I hope you enjoy, like and reblog if you do! more coming very soon! let me know if you have ideas for me! much love as always.

happy reading <3

12 years old 

“Yn!! Put your bike up, it's time for dinner!” I hear my mom shouting from the front yard of our house. Letting out a deep sigh, I sadly slowly turned myself around. I was just getting to a good part of my ride mom, I thought to myself as I made my way back to our house. 

Pink and purple clouds litter the sky, summer nights in Canada were always so beautiful, the clouds kinda look like cotton candy? I wonder what flavors they taste like, I think to myself as I continue to ride down the street. My mind is so captured by the cotton candy colored clouds and the way the ground feels beneath my bike, that I forget that I'm riding a bike, before I feel myself crashing into something. 

As soon as I know it, I'm laying straight on my back in the middle of the sidewalk. I turn my head to the side to see my pink sparkly bike turned upside down on its side. I lean myself up slightly to see something I ran into, happens to be a boy? 

“Oh my gosh” the boy says, scrabbling to his feet, his helmet on his head crooked from the crash.

“Are you hurt, do you need 911?” he asks me, dropping his knees beside me.

“Im okay, i don't need 911” i giggle

“Good, i thought i killed you” he says, offering me a hand pulling me to my feet

“Thank you '' I say, dusting myself off from the crash, fully taking in the boy in front of me, his short brown hair sticking out from his helmet, his blue eyes softly shining in the evening sun.

“Do you have a concussion? You're looking at me kinda weird” he asks, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Im okay, im okay” i say quickly, embarrassed that he caught me looking at him

“Okay, I'm very sorry for running into you, I was looking at the clouds..” he trails off, as he pushes my bike towards me from the grass. 

“Do you think they look like cotton candy?” i ask smiling 

“I WAS THINKING THAT” he laughs 

“ME TOO” I say laughing back at him, as I get on my bike, the nameless boy doing the same. 

“So what's your name” i ask as we start to slowly pettle our way down the sidewalk

“Beckett” he says,

 “you?” he asks turning to me 

“Yn”

“So yn” he says looking forward, “What do you think the cotton candy clouds taste like?”

14 years old. 

“FIRST DAY OF HIGHSCHOOL HOW ARE WE FEELING?” Beckett yells beside me from the backseat of his moms car.

“I'd feel much better if you were not yelling in my ear at 8 in the morning” sending him a tight lipped smile.

“Sorry sorry… im just excited and nervous” he says 

“Why are you nervous?” i ask confused by his statement

“What if no one likes me? Or or i hate the classes i have” he rambles 

“Beckett, you're probably already the most popular boy in our grade and you haven't even stepped foot into the school, you're going to be just fine '' I say, resting my hand on his leg in an attempt to calm him down.

“You always know how to make everything better. What would I do without you?” he says, smiling at me. 

“You'd go crazy probably” i laugh, “don't ever think about replacing me” i say teasingly 

“I could never, no one could replace my best girl” 

Best girl?? Oh gosh, is this car getting hot or is it me? 

“Come one, thing one and thing two” Beckett's mom says from the front seat, before she opens her door. We quickly grab our bags, getting out of the car. 

“Okay come on you two! Picture time!” she says smiling, holding her phone out in front of her, ready for the picture 

“Mom. Are you serious?” Beckett whines from beside me, a quick elbow jab to his side quickly shuts him up. 

“Ow!” he yelps 

“Shut up and take the picture you big baby” 

“Yes ma’am” he says rubbing his side dramatically 

“Okay get closer! Act like you two love each other” she says 

Beckett and I huddle in closer together upon his moms request, feeling his arm wrap around my waist, my heart rate picking up at the feeling. Snap out of it yn get it together. It's just your 14 year old hormones. 

“OKAY 1 2 3!” his moms shouts from us, snapping out of my daydream, i cast a big smile on my lips for the picture. 

“Awwwww!! You two look so cute. Ugh please don't ever grow up you guys!!” she says before pulling us into a hug with each of her arms. 

“Okay” she says pulling back, “have the best first day ever! I love you both, beckett please watch out for yn” 

“Always mom, always gotta look after my best girl” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulder, as we walk up the stairs of the school, with a smile on my face that can be seen across the world. 

Not knowing how the first day of highschool would go for the next four years, but what I did know was that I was in love with my best friend. 

16 years old.

Today is the day of the sophomore formal. My hands couldn't help but shake as I touched and fixed my hair for the 300th time in the last 5 minutes. Staring at myself in the mirror as I run my hands along my dress, in an attempt to smooth out the non existent wrinkles. 

“Yn honey how's it going in there?” i hear my mom call out from the other side of the door

“Good..just looking over everything!” I say, taking a deep breath and one last look at myself before I open the door.

Slowly walking out, seeing my mom standing in the doorway, her hand moving to cover her mouth as she stares at me. 

“How do I look?” I nervously ask my hands running to lay with the fabric of my dress.

“Oh baby, you look stunning. Beckett won't be able to keep his eyes off of you the whole night.” she says to me, her voicing cracking with emotion 

“Really?” 

“Yes really, you look beautiful” running a hand across my cheek, as she looks at me

“Gosh i didnt think id get this emotional” she rasps out

“Okay let's go downstairs, and get some pictures! Beckett should be here any-” the noise of the doorbell cuts her off

“Speak of the devil, there he is!” she turns to me with a smile, “okay you wait up here and then i'll tell you when to come down, okay?”

Nodding my head in agreement, as she begins to make sure way downstairs. My voice feels like it's caught in my throat as I stand there. My nerves start to rise again at the thought of Beckett seeing me all dressed up. Oh gosh what if he thinks i look bad, and doesn't want to go with me anymore?? 

“Yn, honey are you ready?” my mom calls from the bottom of the stairs

“Yeah, coming!”I shout, now or never I think to myself, taking one last deep breath before heading down the stairs. 

My slow steps only add to the building nerves that I already have in my body. My head remains low as I walk down the stairs, scared to look up and see everyones eyes on me. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, slowly bringing my head up, locking eyes with a suited up, wide eyed beckett. 

“Hi” i whisper softly

“You look so beautiful” he says instantly 

“Thank you, you look handsome” I say, a nervous smile spreading across my face. 

“Here these flowers are for you '' Beckett says, holding out the most beautiful bouquet of flowers i've ever seen in front of me. 

“These are so beautiful, thank you” 

“You're welcome, always gotta do the best for my best girl” he says with a smile

Best girl. Best girl. Best girl. 

“Okay, come on love birds, picture time!” my mom says from beside us, beckett quickly moving to grab my hand and part of my dress as i walk out the door. Flashing him a smile as we head outside

“Okay, act like you two love each other!” becketts mom says from beside mine, standing in front of us, as they hold their phones out.

Becketts arm finds my waist, as mine finds his, looking at each other with soft smiles before turning back towards the camera. 

“1 2 3!” my mom says

“Oh! They look so darling!! How cute!” our moms say, as they look at the pictures

“Okay another one!”

Quickly moving back into picture formation, putting a smile on my face ready for the picture, just as my mom is counting down I feel becketts lips pressing against the side of my head, right as the picture is taken. 

Heat flows through my body once he pulls away, a smile dancing across his lips as he looks down at me. 

“You look beautiful” he says once again to me

“When you look at me like that, i feel like i am” i say 

“Good, my best girl should always feel like that” 

Not knowing what his best girl means as he pulls me towards his car, but I do know that I'm falling more and more in love with him each day. 

18 years old. 

It's the day of becketts draft. My hands are shaking as I sit next to his mom. I couldn't be more proud of him, all of the hard work and dedication he's put in to get to this point, I could be more proud. As much as I am proud of him, I can't help but feel waves of nervousness and selfishness flow through my body.

 Where will Beckett be drafted at, how far will he be from his friends, family and me? What team will he go to, what number will he pick? All those thoughts are flowing through my head as I sit silently next to his mom, who's talking to his father. 

I see Beckett lean forward to get my attention, matching his movements I lean forward looking at him. 

“Are you okay?” he mouths to me

I send him a quick smile and thumbs up before settling back into my seat, just as I do the lights start to dim, signaling that the draft is starting. Taking a deep breath before directing my attention to the stage, it's now or nothing. 

Beckett was projected to be the 10th or 12th draft pick, so hearing his name being called as the 3rd overall draft pick from the Anaheim Ducks sounded like a fever dream to everyone in the crowd, especially beckett. Who rises from his seat, with a shocked look on his face. His jaw dropped as he turned to his dad, who pulled him into a hug. Making his way down the aisle to his mom, doing the same with her. 

My hands are shaking as I stand up, I can't help but start to cry, as Beckett wraps his arms around me, pulling me into the tightest hug ever. pulling back quickly before I even have a chance to speak, he's making his way down the aisle towards the stage. His mom brings me into her arms as we lean into each other crying at the sight of our boy walking across the stage. 

I didn't see Beckett for the rest of the draft, he seemed to be whisked away by reporters and the media for pictures or questions. At the end of the draft, his family and I are led into the back of the arena into a room, with ducks reporters, and right in the middle of the crowd stands beckett. Dressed in a ducks jersey and hat, stands the smiling boy. 

As soon as he sees his parents, he makes a beeline straight towards them, pulling them back into tight hugs as they whisper sweet things to him. I stand back witnessing the sweet moment between him and his family, with a smile on my face. Pulling away from his mom, his eyes catch mine, making his way towards me, pulling me off my feet into a hug. 

“ im so proud of you” i say to him as he settles me back on my feet

“I can't believe this, this is so crazy” he says 

“I know, i'm so so proud of you my little duck” i say tugging on his new found jersey 

“I couldn't have done it without my best girl” he says looking down at me, our eyes locked together with so much force and love? 

Before I even know what's happening, becketts face is moving closer and closer to mine, and before I know it his lips are meeting mine in a sweet kiss. My hands grab his face, pulling myself into his lips. A smile spreads across his face when he pulls away, my hands still resting on his face, as I look at him in shock.

“I've wanted to do that since I was 12 years old, I don't know what took me so long,” he says to me.

“But what I do know” he continues “is that i never want to go another year or day or week without it” before connecting our lips back together once again. 

[skyrigel]

Hey Rigel I love ur work like so much 💓 can I request Anthony bridgerton where he is getting married and realises his love his y/n or smth similar with him getting jealous and angry when y/n and Benedict or colin fake date like tht or anything if this doesn't make sense 😭

Enchanted | A.B x you

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict x fem!reader x colin ( platonic) wc - 3.8k

Synopsis: When Aubreyton's CEO strikes a match with Miss Edwina sharma, because she's nice and kind and witty, ofcourse nothing could go wrong, except you have feelings for Anthony.

Warning :CEO! Anthony x assistant! reader, Asshole! Anthony, Benedict x sophie, Polin, bridgerton's chaotic dynamic, reader and Benedict share one brain cell that's mostly with you, alcohol, fake marriage( Anthony and reader), social media au, office au, modern setting, forced proximity, jealousy jealousy, mutual pinning, fluffy fluff, bit angst, arranged marriage, bit Collen Hoover bashing but it's a joke ( maybe not ) no Edwina bashing, scary Kate sharma, yes!!! ( Might add more later )

" Your brother is an idiot." You said, gritting your teeth as your mail blew with applicants, beautiful young ladies with peculiar yet remarkable talents.

" That." Benedict catched the grape midair with his mouth," we know of." He added with a cocky grin.

" Read another ! " Colin peppered, stealing your cookies which you ignored, sighing as you opened another mail.

" Tiana Young, twenty-one, I like to read, write and sing, my favourite author is Collen Hoover—" Benedict snorted, " —I like children and hope to be a mother, I am very soft spoken and good natured, my neighbours call me Ti, because I am a tea kinda person—"

" What's a tea kinda person ? " Colin bited the smuggled cookie, Benedict pulled the remaining to his side hastily, you felt your appetite long gone.

" It's like...they are like tea..." Benedict said, more in doubt as he looked for affirmation.

" Like milk tea or another tea ? " You asked, perhaps tea could takeaway your headache.

" What's an another tea ? " Colin's hand began to pull the tray, Benedict frowned but said nothing, taking one hurriedly and breaking it into two parts, offering you the bigger one.

" No thank-you, let me fix this Tiana's appointment." You exhaled, copy pasting a paragraph how (un) grateful you were to her for reaching out, she would soon have her appointment date and bla bla bla.

" I knew my brother was workholic but this wife hunting thingy is so exhausting." Benedict wiggled his eyebrows, you knew he was being kind but he wasn't helping at all.

" It would have been over if his requirements weren't so high, like he's not looking for a wife but some utopian woman god has yet to create ! " You were ranting, you knew, but this was the only way you could stop yourself from punching Anthony for putting you into this misery.

" Why can't he just fall in love ? " Colin looked at you and Benedict seriously, his mouth covered in crumbs, " Come on, love is like...like a force to be reckoned with ! " He beamed, ofcourse it was a force, didn't Penelope wrote something smiliary in her latest book, you somehow felt your heart shuddering, what would happen if Anthony were to be in love, some intelligent, beautiful woman, some utopian goddess of his, you didn't like the idea one bit, so you laughed it off.

" Brother in love ? " Benedict was in stitches, banging his palm on the table, shaking few very important papers that laid without any significance. They will be probably used as napkin if you weren't there.

" It's not funny." Colin got up, taking his coat, he rolled his eyes when Benedict refused to stop laughing, you shaked your head helplessly as another mail popped up, Jasmine had written a essay about global peace and increasing capatilism, you groaned, damn you Anthony bridgerton!

_

" Good evening Anthony." You tapped save on your screen as Anthony entered the office, a beak of sweat trickling down his neck line, okay, someone got either fired or roasted down to their very existence, you preferred the former.

" Good evening y/n." He looked up at you, he worried his jaw to say more but decided against it as he settled on his chair, it was very comfy and very big, years of working with him but you couldn't fathom the courage to ever have a taste, perhaps Benedict would help, maybe then.

" There are twelve appointments I have scheduled for tomorrow, Miss Becka—"

" Cancel them."

" What ?! " You almost shouted, you didn't waste your whole day to adjust and fit these pretty woman according to the time and weather and place and Anthony's mood so nothing went wrong, did he just said cancel them like it was nothing, this—

" We are going out Tommorow, it might take all day so cancel them." Anthony ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply, your brain short circuited at the words more and more made some meaning, we ?! Did he, for heaven's sake said we ?

" You and me ? " You blurted and lowered your gaze when his eyes snapped to you, a deep color blazed your nose as you fiddled with your skirt.

" Yes, me and you." He confirmed and you could swore, that was a smile, a small, thin, almost unrecognisable on his always stern face, but that was a smile.

" Why ? " You closed your laptop, tucking the strands of your hair that usually came out after a long day, behind you ear.

Anthony pressed a key and it beeped, he shifted his face to you, thinking that he was almost frowning and finally, he said with a neutral face.

" I have found a match." His face gave nothing away, " Miss Edwina will be most suitable for marriage." He said it like it wasn't his marriage he was talking about, " she's very graceful and witty and would make a amiable wife and a kind loving mot—"

" Right." You snapped mid course, his mouth was hanging open with words lost in void, you knew very well Miss Edwina was a fine young lady, she was beautiful and kind and sharp at wits, ofcourse this ended your torment or perhaps began another, but not now, you needed to think.

" I..I promised Benedict for dinner. " You muttered, feeling your whole body numb as you stumbled out of your seat, Anthony watched, something glazed in his eyes but you couldn't place it, you might if you looked longer but you had no courage left now. You were almost at the glassy door, he was watching you intently and you felt his gaze burn at your back.

" You like my brother quite very much." He startled you, you paused, heart beats echoing through your throat. It was like he was accusing you, almost jabbing his finger on your chest. What does that mean ?

" What could I say ? He's very amiable." You turned to smile at him, it trembled on your lips and Anthony scoffed slightly, mouth curving in disdain but it was gone as soon as it crossed his face. Damn you !

" Have a nice day sir." You closed the door behind you, covering your face as a muffled scream cut through your cartilage.

_

" Miss Edwina ?! " Benedict almost screamed as you narrowed your eye sternly at him, he lowered his voice in a whisper, ducking his head down towards you, " sorry but Miss Edwina ?! "

" I know, I know." You swigged another gulp of the dizzy bubbling liquid that will give you a terrible headache tommorow but right now, you just wanted this uneasiness feeling to go away.

" Didn't her scary sister vowed to ruin him or something like that ? " Benedict licked his thumb, eye's watering at the spice, you loved this place's Chole bhature very much, last time Benedict cried when he accidentally bited the green masala filled chilly.

" Yeah, she refused to take ahead the Mayfair deal, or something like that, not that it would ruin anything and—" You sighed, leaning back your head as the soft music tickled your senses.

" What ? " You heard his faint murmur.

" Well Anthony was right, as soon as our team announced his engagement, ofcourse not revealing the bride, he's well trending—"

" He's always trending." Benedict groaned, chugging water as his lips were swollen with spiced heat.

" Yes, but not for thirsty things, i meant that Aubreyton is trending and our shares are touching the sky and it's a whole profitable season ahead." You ended breathlessly, you stared at him for full second before both your eye's crinkled with smiles and laughter that came from your hearts, it lightened the air somehow as well as your heart.

" You do remember I am part of the executive board ? " Benedict tilted his head with a warm smile and you shaked your head, feeling tipsy.

" Like you do anything except torment me and poor Colin ! " You pouted, feeling your cheeks flush as Benedict threw his head back and laughed.

" Poor Colin ? " He cooed, " he's probably getting laid tonight." He added with a wink, you slapped his shoulder nervously.

" Penelope replied ? "

" Ofcourse, my dear little brother wrote a whole ass three page message, with a picture of all her books that too hardcover and first editions."

" Wow." You said, impressed, Colin was head over heels, it was only a matter of time since the dazzling author knew.

" And what of Miss Beckett ? " You wiggled your eyebrows like Benedict did when he teased you, he turned a beetroot red as he fumbled with the last contents of his glass.

" She refused for a live in relationship." He said, his face grew sad and you mentally winced for putting him there.

" Oh." You nodded, Sophia lived with her evil mother who liked to see her suffer and she was, afterall, too good of a girl.

" Benedict..." You whispered when he closed his eyes softly, hiding his face behind his palms.

" I am not crying." He was. He sniffed as a few heads turned towards the pair of you, many with sympathy, probably thinking you had refused to marry him or something.

" Hey, hey, hey..." You pulled yourself as you dizzily tripped over to his side, wrapping your arms around him as he melted in your embrace.

" She doesn't understand..." He said it so muffled that it was unable to make out what he said, but you understood it anyway.

" She will, she loves you so much." You kissed his head and he nodded, tears streaking your shirt as he finally emerged with red, sticky face and puppy bright eyes.

" I think i drank too much." He admitted, you nodded, feeling yourself floating too.

" Let's call a cab, we shouldn't drive." You suggested, fiddling with cash as you payed the bill, leaving good tip for the teenager waiter, who smiled kindly at every inner joke Benedict shot.

" Uh huh." He focused hard on his phone, sticking his tongue out like he did when he was really, really drunk and or just really, felt the need to, or he was about to do something stupid, which he did.

Twelve minutes later, Anthony bridgerton was standing outside the restaurant with a heavy frown and it was strange to see him in normal clothes, like that grey t-shirt felt odd yet gorgeous and those sweatpants, you were way too drunk, you realised.

" You'll make a fine gentleman." Anthony curted his mouth, his words dripped with sarcasm that you and Benedict were too drunk to catch on.

" Thankyou, the cab idea was mine." He said smugly, ducking out when you smacked his ass with your purse, Anthony watched with wide eyes.

" Liar." You jabbed at him, he started to giggle and stumbled, taking you along before Anthony grabbed you by the waist and pulled you away from him, Benedict winked at you when Anthony closed his eyes, frustration or whatever that dazed him, his touch was electrifying, like current jostling in water.

Anthony pulled away his arms from you, his eyes strained like it pained him just the same it hurt you.

" You are wasting my time brother, get in the car." He glared, " come." He said to you, his gaze softened but that could be alcohol, you weren't reliable narrator especially when it was Anthony bridgerton.

" Well you could have refused." Benedict ran and sprawled inside like a bear, covering the whole back seat with his wasted body.

" Yes well, I didn't come for y—" he clamped his mouth in a thin line, nerve twitching on his forehead as he breathed hard, eyeing you as you ran after Benedict's seat thievery, you opened the door and his head almost snapped when he looked up you, it was a nauseous enough to make you vomit.

" Move." You pulled his hair, in no hell you will sit in the front seat, not like you haven't, but you were drunk and you were angry and you hated Anthony and you wished so much to just, to just, just once, once just, kiss him hard, that's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Leave this idiot." Anthony was suddenly behind you, he touched your elbow with same electric touch, guiding you to the empty front seat as he opened the door, you could feel Benedict wiggling his eye, you will deal with this bastard later.

" I was thinking—" Benedict started, once Anthony started driving, he was shut real quick when Anthony glared with words.

" Stop thinking." Anthony rolled the steering wheel and you looked away, those veins taunted and lured you, it was maddening and the streets were much dull and undistracting.

Benedict giggled at something he probably said in his head, you chuckled when he burped, he did too, only Anthony didn't.

" Don't you have a date tommorow with Mr. Dorset ? " Benedict craned his neck to get a view of you, two Bridgerton's eyes were too much to take as you thought hard, well yes a date, with Mr. Dorset, yes, you did remember.

" Ofcourse." You said, Anthony drifted a turn that jerked your head forward and you would have got a concussion if it wasn't his big palm that came for rescue.

" Are you okay ? " He asked, slowing down the car as his fingers pushed you back until the back of your head was pressed against the seat.

" Yeah." You confirmed, nothing was more threatening than his touch. He should bloody know that.

" Are you okay ? " Benedict mimicked and you realised he was down there, squashed on the car floor, his face hidden somewhere.

Anthony ignored him as his expressions hardened, he was breathing hard as he worried his lips, thinking and thinking.

" You do know it might take all day." Anthony finally said and you cocked your head to his side, you were drunk and well, sleepy too.

" What ? Well, it's a dinner date." You assured, Mr. Dorset wasn't letting go and a Thai curry wouldn't hurt anyway.

" Yes well, it might be very late." He was frowning now, his eyes were on the road but he would glance between nano seconds.

" Really ? " You pouted, you were way too gone now, it didn't matter, Anthony's eyes stopped at your lips and when he looked up, something changed, like it must have changed a long ago but it's colours were only visible now, like moon hiding behind the clouds, beaming but not seen and when it's finally high, hanging at sky, you blinked, expecting it to be gone, like everything, but when you opened your eyes, it was still there, as clear as ever, shimmering at you. That's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Yes.." Anthony gulped hard, pulling at Benedict's apartment, how much he wanted sophie to built a home with him, soon, you thought, soon.

" Oi y/n, I think I found your lipstick." Benedict hopped up, his face had lines where because he didn't bother to get up once he had fallen, with a shade that you never used in your whole lifetime, Anthony looked away when you tried to catch his eyes.

" That's not mine." You said, feeling anger creep up your neck, not knowing why, it's not that you were the only one who sat in his car and ofcourse you weren't his girlfriend, you weren't his friend even, he was your boss, you were his assistant, that's it, that's fucking it, you really wanted to punch his face, that's bloody alcohol, you would never drink again.

" Benedict, my brother." Anthony took the lipstick away which Benedict was trying to apply on himself, " get the fuck out."

" Goodbye to you too brother." He leaned to smooch Anthony when he hastily pulled away, growling.

" Bye bye sweetheart." Benedict smooched your cheek then and his lips only touched your warm skin before Anthony pushed him back in the back seat, it was, kinda rough.

" You are drunk." He told Benedict who shrugged, blinking heavily.

"He always kissed me goodbye." You glared at Anthony, this freaking bastard, chew on your lipstick, Idiot. You leaned down to kiss Benedict's cheek and he giggled softly, eyes locked with Anthony, his wide bastard grin flashing, glittering as Anthony eye rolled.

When Benedict was dropped, it was your turn, Anthony stared ahead like a statue, you were suffering in your own head.

The silence became heavy in air as the music was either tragic or too loud for your head and Anthony sensed the discomfort, turning it off altogether.

" What are we going to do actually? Venue deciding or something." You finally spoke, remembering how much you stared and stared when the article popped up, Anthony bridgerton looking for a wife !! You remembered the qualification list, should be well spoken, should be linguistic, should want kids, should be family loving, should be this, should be that, should have good enough hips to bear a child like what ?!

You remembered days and days when he would have his appointments, yes appointments, most of times he was out within five minutes, a frown on his face.

" She doesn't know algebra." He said one time when he came out within two minutes and you shrugged, well algebra was hard afterall.

And now Miss Edwina had ended all your miseries and torture, no lists, no more algebra's and Collen Hoover's, nothing of that anymore, Anthony would be a husband soon and perhaps he would love her, or already love her, he was so determined even when Kate sharma threatened to cut deals with Aubreyton if didn't stop sending flowers, well that was your doing, sending flowers because it was your idea, but well, it didn't matter.

" Well not the venue, but wedding ring and wedding dresses, Mother say we match and cake tasting and flowers—" we.

" When's the wedding ? " You looked at him scornfully, Anthony's eyes lowered at you as he stopped the car.

" Next week." Fuck you Anthony!

" Shouldn't you decide that with Miss Edwina herself ? " You were glad, but you had this feeling that he would be taken away from you, once married, he might not be yours, he was never yours, but still, why not start now ?

He frowned like it wasn't the most sensible and obvious thing.

" I..." He hesitated, " Miss Edwina might not want to go, since the wedding is too near and also, to keep it a private engagement."

" Oh." You didn't get a thing, your mind wasn't working as Anthony leaned down to open your door, you freezed, only your heart thudded loudly, could he hear ? What he did to you, well it wouldn't surprise you if he knew and still chose to torture your poor soul. " Why not state it publicly ? "

" I can't deal with the fanfictions." He said in matter of factly way. " And paparazzi giving Edwina trouble." Don't say her name, don't.

" Fanfictions ?! " You laughed so loud that he actually stopped thinking whatever he was, and just looked at you, as if taking in every detail, savouring them, drinking every bit of you in, he looked like he was mesmerized but that was just alcohol, just your silly heart, just you, who had read all those one shots, about you and him, ofcourse you weren't going to admit it and ofcourse you would be quite dammed if you ever saw Anthony getting shipped with Edwina Sharma, they are getting married in a week idiot, yes, but not today, not now, later, when it was time, please, not now. Later, now he was yours.

" You have a good choice either way." He was, for no reason, walking you to your door, you remembered how Benedict was practically kicked out earlier, he would tease you so much if you were to ever tell him.

" Oh please." You chuckled, rubbing your hands together in the chilly air, " I gifted Benedict onesies on his birthday."

Anthony smiled, it didn't leave his face until he caught you staring and you noticed how different he looked, when those lines were of joy instead of worry, he looked young and his boyishness made your heart do cartwheels.

" That was just a joke." He amused, " wasn't it ? " His smile faltered when you shaked your head in a no, fumbling for you keys.

" It wasn't so bad." Anthony said, somewhat traumatised, " Benedict wore them anyway."

" It had penguins ! " You cringed at the memory, a drunkish Polaroid like, blurred and saturated, it was vivid but just like yesterday, Anthony didn't dance until you were both so drunk, perhaps he smiled back than too, and looked just as dazzling.

" You are good y/n." Anthony said sincerely, " stop being mean to yourself." You opened the door but your hands freezed at the doornob, why Anthony had to cut the right wires, why he had to upside down your whole world ?

" Well, same to you Anthony." You said, he lingered on the doorway more than he should, it was alcohol, it really, really was but no amount of gaslighting could blur the memory away, you always remembered how brave you were that night when you leaned down, one step not much, and placed a small, chaste kiss, just a brush of your lips against his blazing skin. A touch to his soul, it sparkled and rose and busted into a thousand orbs and sprinkled like glitters on you and him.

" Good night." You whispered, Anthony stared, too stunned to say anything, then he smiled, small and enchanting.

" Good night y/n." His smile stayed.

[maroonangels]

♦️spider/missy moodboard ♦️

aka the best couple of s2

[walkingstackofbooks]

The Garashir wedding: Lower Decks style

Mariner's called into her mom's office. Freeman informs her that something very special but currently classified is going to be happening in the next week, and she knows Mariner is going on leave tomorrow, but she might want to consider postponing it. Mariner declines - "Nah, my thing is more important".

Mariner and Rutherford are left at the space station to go on leave. It transpires that Mariner has been invited to Julian's wedding, and taking Rutherford as her plus one because Julian Bashir is one of his heroes. (augment-cyborg solidarity, anyone?)

Boimler, Tendi and T'Lyn are all trying to find out what the mission they're being sent on is. Boimler reports that Shakx seems pretty unhappy. Tendi suggests it's just because T'Ana has apparently discovered a drink she prefers more than Bajoran springwine.

Mariner and Rutherford encounter Hijinks and Troubles as they try to hitchhike their way to the wedding.

Freeman is stressing over what to wear for the occasion and has dragged Ransom in. Dress uniform, obviously, but can she get away with accessorising a little? And if so, how? She doesn't want to be a regular Starfleet officer, she wants to be a cool Starfleet officer. ("I literally cannot help you I don't even know what we're doing because you STILL haven't TOLD me." "It's classified." "You told Shakx!" "Have you tried keeping a secret from Shakx? He's terrifying!" "I can be terrifying!" "Nice try, Jack... Is a scarf too much do you think?")

Mariner and Rutherford have managed to trade his engineering abilities in exchange for passage on a merchant ship. Unfortunately, he is too good, and the ship now want to keep him.

Boimler is on navigation. They're approaching their destination but Freeman still wants the information to be known only to Bridge crew for as long as possible. (Boimler: "But what are we doing on--" Freeman: "Shh. Even the walls have ears, you know.")

The merchant ship have arrived and reluctantly agree to let Mariner and Rutherford go. They change into their fancy wedding stuff ready to be transported down. They are in the middle of a desert. "Screw you!" Mariner shouts uselessly at the sky.

Boimler is in the mess with Tendi and T'Lyn. Boimler is sweating profusely and tapping anxiously on the table. He cannot keep a secret this big. Tendi looks at him curiously. "Why do you keep tapping out "Cardassia" in Morse Code?" she asks, just at the moment when the room has gone silent. All eyes are on Boimler.

Mariner and Rutherford are hot, sweaty, bedraggled and exhausted. The doorkeeper reluctantly lets them in. "It's just started," he says. They sit down quietly in the back. Rutherford think his UT is playing up. "Did they just wish them many happy arguments?" he whispers.

Captain Freeman is nervously playing with her red scarf. "I wouldn't wear that if I were you," Ransom says. "I hear his reputation is quite formidable." Someone gestures that she's up.

We see her begin to walk out, and begin the "Since the days of the first wooden vessels, all shipmasters have had one happy privilege..." speech. The happy couple have their backs to us, and are silhouetted.

The camera zooms further back, and we are now at the back of the building. "Mom?" Mariner whispers to Rutherford.

We finally get to see the couple's faces as the camera pans back to Freeman and looks over her shoulder. Julian and Garak are facing each other. "...Of course, the legal part of this marriage has just been taken care of by the Cardassians -- but it is my privilege to bring this very human tradition to a Cardassian wedding ceremony and tell you that, Julian, you may kiss your husband."

Garak and Julian smile at each other, but the camera cuts away to the crowd. Federation guests are clapping and cheering; the Cardassians tend to be trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else in their vicinity.

We cut to the reception. Mariner's asking Julian "It all seemed so... Federation? Even the Cardassian bit?" Julian shrugs. "When you end up making every compromise in the book in the name of interstellar relations, it turns out all you get is a nondescript, bureaucratic service." He winks. "This is going to be when the fun starts."

Garak is complimenting Freeman on her scarf, and we can see in her face that she is totally lording it over Jack. Garak returns to his husband. "But you hated that scarf?" whispers Julian. "The things I do for diplomacy," replied Garak sorrowfully.

T'Ana is downing Kanar like it's nothing in the background to Shakx's distinct disapproval.

Mariner's managed to sneak Boimler, Tendi and T'Lyn into the party. "I can't believe we could have just come on the Cerritos," she moans, "but anyway, go wild."

Of course, her deeply uncool friends go wild by fangirling over their DS9 idols. At the end of that montage, Rutherford finally gets the chance to say "Thankyouforallyou'vedonefortheaugmentcommunityDoctorBashir". It's sweet.

Aaand endings are hard so sorry, I don't have one to neatly wrap this all up 😅 I will leave it to your wonderful imaginations.

[mamawasatesttube]

tired: the bats are so weird and creepy and everyone else is always so normal compared to them!

wired: impulse started fidgeting so hard he just started vibrating and clipped halfway through the floor and part of helen's foot before he realized what he was doing. this is just a normal tuesday

inspired: superman, superboy, and supergirl are sitting together in midair having a mild-mannered midwestern discussion as to which of their nonpowered combatant friends has the most fucked-up looking bones. several of said friends are in the room and really wish they wouldn't do this

[inquisitornocturn]

≪─ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛᴀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ─≫

⋟ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Beckett/f!reader the kindred, Sebastian LaCroix/reader as background pairing

⋟ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: y/n etc is not used, rating - E, POV second person, cheating, mild dubcon, smut, fingering, PiV, anal, deepthroating, facefucking, masturbation, cum swallowing, semi-public sex, porn with little plot.

⋟ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When you're nearly immortal your past tends to collect mistakes that sometimes catch up with you, just like tonight when you see that one of such possible mistakes have again decided to appear in your life, despite your best efforts to avoid it. Thankfully Sebastian doesn't notice a flash of panic as you notice that Beckett is present at this gathering in Nocturne Theater, but he also doesn't know what kind of past you share you with the Gangrel Elder who's allergic to swearing allegiance to anyone but himself. You hope he doesn't notice you, but when anything ever slipped past Beckett's keen senses?

⋟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,644

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first of all - thank you L for not letting me forget Beckett's claws♡ second - i guess i'm back in the saddle, so to speak! this was fun to write and it's actually quite an old idea that someone suggested to me in passing when i first introduced Beckett to my longfic a minute to midnight. the suggestion was for a part two of it which, i'll admit, i am not going to do, because the fic is not even done at the moment of me posting this, no way i'm going to plan a second part so early (if at all), but the idea of the dynamic between the three of them kind of stuck so here it is - albeit brief, but fiery take on how it could possibly work. enjoy♡~

“Competence in this organization is truly scarce.” Sebastian murmurs by your side and you hear disdain in his words. You can barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes, but manage to keep yourself composed as you look at him.

“You say that decade after decade.” You remind him and his eyes snap to you, his blonde eyebrows furrowing at your perceived insolence, and you see his fingers tightening around the glass of blood he’s holding.

“That’s because it remains factual. Camarilla lacks dedicated, talented people. That’s why we’re here, in hostile territory trying to make things right.” He snaps back and peels his eyes away from you, scanning the crowd at this function.

Nocturne Theatre, one of the places LaCroix anointed to be an Elysium, is packed with other kindred tonight. The Primogen are here, including the elusive Dr. Grout who seems to keep himself apart from the rabble. Earlier you watched him for a little while, observing the man as he tried not to twitch, not to hide behind his own glass of blood, as he whispered to himself from time to time. Malkavians, what an interesting breed of kindred.

You are tempted to argue with Sebastian, to tell him that LA is not as hostile as he thinks it is. It’s hostile to him, surely, and perhaps the Camarilla presence overall, but otherwise it’s a decent city. You met the Hollywood Baron, and one in Santa Monica, both of them attending this gathering as well, but at the moment neither of them is in your eyesight.

“Look at them and tell me that they don’t need a leader.” Sebastian speaks up again once you don’t and you watch him gesture over some figures. You try to understand who he means exactly and struggle because it could be anyone from Nines Rodriguez to VV, who thankfully is dressed appropriately tonight, to-

Oh no.

Your eyes widen for a moment and you turn your face away, hiding it behind your glass by taking a sip. Quickly you clear your throat.

“Yes, of course they need a leader, that’s why you’re here.” You don’t hesitate to placate Sebastian’s growing irritation and breathe a sigh of relief when he clearly misses your reaction to seeing one particular guest lingering among the kindred, chatting up Primogen Strauss among all people.

Beckett.

You heard rumors that he might be in LA, you even heard rumors that he’s here to mingle with thin-bloods that seem to be littering the Santa Monica beach, but you hoped that Tung’s grapevine gossip is not true. You aren’t so lucky, it seems.

As you glance in Beckett’s direction, seeing the same dusty coat he wore last time you saw him, seeing his dark brown hair loose as always, and his charming yet often sarcastic smile - you remember all too well why you have been trying to avoid him.

Before you ended up with Sebastian you were with Beckett. Very briefly, very tumultuously, very passionately. You ran into each other in Paris, where you were trying to distance yourself from your Sire who remained in Italy and Beckett was chasing yet another meager, fallible clue to one of the questions he always is looking the answers for.

You met in a kindred bar, another Elysium, where you were trying to plan your next steps and Beckett was annoyed that some sort of contact stood him up. You barely remember what happened next, you drank, a lot, some sort of special blood that made you feel drunk in a way you used to feel when you were alive. Beckett most likely was drunk too, maybe against his own better judgement, but next evening you woke up with him in your bed, your body sore and cut from his claw-like nails, your head swimming and a strange affair that caught up with you couple decades later in another city. You were with Sebastian already, but Beckett didn’t care and he took the opportunity to remind you just exactly how he made you feel before.

Cheating kindreds, what a concept. Do morals of kine even apply to you?

For a moment you wonder that as you look at Sebastian, still lingering by your side and sipping thick liquid from the glass, his cold, blue eyes settling from one attendee to another. He wasn’t a Prince back then, when you cheated behind his back, but he is now and you wonder what would happen if Beckett again decided that satisfying his desires comes as a priority above all else. So many things he treats like this, not just you.

“Hm. I think it’s time to talk to Grout. He started skipping most meetings.” LaCroix says to you half-heartedly, not really caring if you’re listening or not, so you simply nod and get slightly startled when his icy gaze turns to you with a strange warning in them. “Remember to behave. I haven’t been Prince for long, your behavior reflects on me, is that understood?”

“Yes, Sebastian.”

“Try that again.”

You scrunch your nose ever so slightly, knowing what he wants to hear and not wanting to comply with his ever-growing ego, but you sigh slightly.

“Yes, Prince.” You finally respond and Sebastian smirks at you, showing off his fangs that find their way into your flesh so often.

“Good, good. Now, I shall excuse myself.” He says and walks off without giving you another glance.

You sigh the moment he’s further, watching him approach Dr. Grout and seeing Primogen’s eyes widen momentarily as LaCroix walks up to him, but your eyes quickly return to Beckett. He’s still talking to Strauss but now he’s at an angle that you can see his face better and the sunglasses on his nose, you can even make out his red, glowing eyes that you remember so well when they burn with passion.

You have to hide.

You can’t let Beckett see you because you don’t know in what kind of mood he is. Maybe he has another to satisfy him or maybe he doesn’t, but in either case he might still want to play with you, simply because he one hundred percent knows that you’re a chosen partner of Prince of LA. And what’s a better way to boost his own ego than to temporarily claim something that’s not his. After all, his entire career as a kindred anthropologist is based on exactly this kind of behavior and you haven’t been able to resist him the first two times he wanted to lay his claim.

Carefully you begin stepping backwards, only now realizing why you haven’t sensed him before seeing him, his attendance catching you so off guard. With so many kindred around it’s hard to notice even his presence, but that matters none because he’s here and so are you, and you understand that you have to retreat to the lobby before you stand out, so you turn your back and pick right side of the room to serve as your escape route. You take note of the scattered crowd: some in seats, some standing in groups and there’s even some ghoul servers, but you don’t know if they are Sebastian’s or anyone else’s. Either way, you see the open door and that’s your goal, that’s what you focus on.

After short walk alongside the row of seats you turn left, seeing your salvation so close, seeing Gary of all people lingering there as well, and he grins widely to you as you have no choice but to approach. When you’re about to greet him, out of necessity and not friendship, you hear someone speak and it’s not the Nosferatu Primogen because his face doesn’t move.

“Ah, I was hoping to see you.” A smooth voice you recognize so well and you stop in your tracks.

Shit.

He did notice you after all. Maybe your not-so-discreet escape drew his attention or maybe he was just waiting for you to separate from the crowd. Either way, when your eyes move to the speaker, you see Beckett with his head slightly cocked to the side and a curious look already set on your face over his sunglasses.

You take a moment to compose yourself and manage a strained smile.

“Beckett. Surprised to see you here.” You say in a voice that even to you sounds forced and notice Gary giving a glance to you both.

“I take you know each other well.” He chuckles in that gravelly voice of his and for a moment you wish you could strangle the damned Nosferatu with his own bowtie. You don’t need anyone making this more awkward than it is.

“We know each other.” Beckett replies, giving Gary a short look before looking back at you. “Would you be so kind and give me a moment of your time? I’d like to discuss something of great import.” He continues and you clench your jaw for a moment then smile.

“Wouldn’t it be best if the Prince heard it?” you ask, trying not to let your mind wander to sudden memories of his animalistic, near feral kisses. Sebastian never came anywhere close to the passion you experienced with Beckett, and sometimes you still think of him instead of the Prince when fucks you whenever his mercurial mood strikes.

“No, this is a matter that’s best heard by his beloved partner.” Beckett’s words are tinged with sarcasm and you want to wipe that arrogant grin off his face, but with Gary watching you have no other choice but to play by the rules of diplomacy.

“Hah, beloved partner. I’m sure she is very loved by our wonderous Prince.” Gary interjects with another one of his chuckles and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Do you have anything you want to say, Gary?” you ask with your tone cold as a cadaver and Gary chuckles again then raises his palms in show of surrender.

“Not at all, boss. Just being observant, but I can tell when I have overstayed my welcome.” He grins, his lips, or what’s left of them, twisting in a cynical manner and he gives you a short bow of his head before he glances at Beckett. “I’m sure we will talk again.” Nosferatu says to him and walks past the man, choosing the middle aisle to stroll towards the main gathering without looking back.

You watch him go with slightly confused expression, now wondering what kind of rumors are spreading about you and Sebastian. What kind of gossip can there even be? You are together, neither of you sleep around, well, except for that one time in your past that’s been out of your control and that is now presenting itself to you again in a form of Beckett’s sardonic smile.

“I was actually hoping to see you.” He says and you look at him, your eyes meeting his over the sunglasses that he has lowered down his nose.

“What for?” you snap at him and Beckett raises his eyebrows at your drastic change of tone.

“Can’t two old friends talk?” he smirks and you grit your teeth, your eyes briefly glancing over his shoulder to the attendees by the stage, noticing Sebastian’s blonde hair while he’s surrounded by what looks like VV and Therese. You worry not, he hates both of them with visceral seething.

“Friends?” you scoff and Beckett’s smirk widens as he steps closer, his fingers quickly and firmly closing around your wrist. His other hand grabs your glass and sets it on a backrest of the nearest theater chair before you can protest.

“Old acquaintances.” He responds in a quieter tone and for a moment he too glances back, most likely making sure that no one is paying close attention to the both of you, then he steps past you, outside of the stage room and into the dimly lit lobby while pulling you after him.

“Beckett, you can’t be serious.” You hiss at him as you follow him against your will. With couple tugs you try to free your limb from his grasp with no luck, his clawed fingers only tightening around it further and you sigh in capitulation. Maybe he only wants to talk.

Once in the lobby, where no one else seems to be present, he stops and turns to you. Beckett’s eyes quickly sweep over you, your tight red dress and the slit in it over your thigh, your décolleté that reveals nearly more than it hides and pauses at your neck before his studying gaze meets yours once more.

“Climbing the kindred ladder I see. You sensed well that Sebastian will be your ticket to upper echelons of Camarilla.” His mocking grin pokes at your anger and you have to remind yourself who he is and where you are, but he always knew just what to say to get you either aroused or pissed off. Sometimes both at the same time.

“I’m not with him to be his stay-at-home wife, Beckett.” You frown and try to tug your wrist out of his hand again with no luck.

“No, you’re with him because he offers protection. And that hulking monkey at his side, of course.” He chuckles, always so damn arrogant because he’s an Elder. Or maybe he always has been like that, before the centuries piled up.

“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” you ask growing more irate by the moment, but Beckett clicks his tongue at you.

“So impatient. Not even a Fledgling anymore but some things do not change, I suppose.” He taunts again, making your frown deepen, not because of his mocking but because he’s wrong.

“You don’t know how I was when I was a Fledgling, don’t act as if you’ve known me my entire immortal existence.” You tug at your wrist again and this time Beckett’s grip tightens enough to begin hurting, but you don’t betray it, just stare him down as he sighs with another chuckle.

“No, but I know your Sire. Or rather, your dear old dead Sire.” He laughs and with free hand he grips your chin, lifting your face to his like he wants to inspect it. His body draws closer for a better look and you clench your jaw, not moving your eyes from his. “I did want to talk to you about something but now that I see you, I might have another idea.” He whispers and your mind reels for an answer, trying to avoid settling on the obvious one.

You are caught off guard by his words so much so that you don’t even notice how his fingers are becoming warmer against your skin, how the glow in his cat-like eyes becomes a little brighter. Your gaze leaves him for a moment, glancing in the direction of the door to the stage room, but your plan of escape is immediately reduced to nothing as Beckett releases your chin and turns, making quick strides to a door. You scramble after him, your heels hindering your steps, and you briefly notice the sign on the door, informing you that he’s pulling you into women’s bathroom.

The moment you are shoved into the small area, you try to turn, to maybe push back and leave, but once the door closes it becomes completely dark. Kindred have no use of bathrooms after all, there’s no light here and in utter darkness you have less of a fighting chance against a man like Beckett.

You feel the grip on the back of your neck and only the sound of your heels and his shoes fill the silence as he guides you forwards. You orient where you are quickly the moment you see the dull reflection of Beckett’s eyes in the mirror and you manage to grasp the edge of the sink just before he pushes the side of your face against the cold glass.

“Beckett, you can’t, what if Sebastian-“

“But that’s part of the thrill, dear.” He chuckles and you finally notice how hot his palm of on your neck feels. Your eyes adjust to the darkness and you see shadowy reflection of your own face as it is pressed against the mirror. You want to argue further but Gangrel’s free hand begins roaming over your waist.

“Thrill for us to get killed?” you ask in a breathy voice. You don’t struggle and you don’t fight because you do want this. Sleeping with Sebastian is so boring after all, not after you know how good sex can really feel, even for kindred.

Beckett laughs at your words, his hand now beginning to lift your dress in hurried movements, pulling it up and twisting the fabric, maneuvering the slit in it so that it falls on both sides of your hips like an opening while he has you bent over the sink.

“Sebastian cannot kill me. He may be a Camarilla Prince, but he’s still just a brat.” He taunts the very notion of Sebastian being any threat for him whatsoever and you hear the sound of fabric ripping as Beckett gets rid of your panties swiftly and efficiently.

“Beckett!” you hiss at him when hems of them dig into your skin for a moment before they are completely torn off and you hear a chuckle.

“Sorry, darling, they were in the way. And you know how I am about things that try to stop me from getting what I want.” He replies and makes you gasp the moment you feel his fingers rubbing at your folds from behind, vampire’s touch passionate and expert, making sure his claws do not hurt you, only allowing them to scrape against you.

Beckett’s skin is like embers upon yours, now that he’s using the Discipline to rouse himself and his body from its usual dead state, and you moan despite yourself. You’re aroused but you’re not wet and he can feel it, for that you need to follow his suit and trigger power of your blood to simulate life for you to fully enjoy what he’s about to do to you.

“Hm, you still feel just like I remember.” Beckett whispers and you feel his lips trail over your back where the dress doesn’t cover it, searing trails left in his wake as he moves a hand from behind you and now in front of you, beginning to rub your clit in quick, precise circles. You moan again. “Come on, I know you want this, you’re not even struggling.” He taunts again and you gasp when his fingers toy with your clit in a way that makes your knees weak.

“We can’t, I can’t.” You respond in a whisper and Beckett lets out a short, silent growl of annoyance then he scoffs.

“You’ll change your mind in a moment.” He says and you hear taunting in his tone again before his fingers leave your body, his hand still firmly pressed against the back of your neck and you begin hearing sounds of fabric being shifted around, then a clink of a belt buckle being maneuvered and lastly the promising sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“Beckett, please.” You whisper and not because you truly want him to stop but because the risk of being caught is just too great. What if Sebastian notices you’re gone? What if Gary ‘subtly’ tells Prince that before you disappeared he saw you talking to Beckett? What if?

“Begging now? How delightfully unexpected.” Beckett taunts and you feel the warm tip of his cock nudge at your folds, then slide slightly up to your entrance before he begins to push himself in.

You make a sound through your clenched teeth. The sensation is not the most pleasant, but it’s not entirely unpleasant either as he forces himself into you inch by deliberate inch.

“If you only let yourself enjoy it a little this might be much much more pleasant for you.” Beckett speaks and you know he’s right because by the time his impressive length is buried inside of you to the fullest you feel mostly pain. Blood tears gather in your eyes from the discomfort and your fingers grip the edge of the sink so tightly you feel like you could tear it off the wall with one pull. “Come on, dear.” His voice is dripping honey against your ear as he whispers, hot breath fawning over your skin and hair. “Submit to me.”

With that Beckett begins to pull out, readying himself for another thrust, and you know you have no choice. He won’t stop and not using the Discipline out of principle is stupid and childish. So you give in, needing only a moment to concentrate and active the only thing that will elevate this from painful to pleasurable.

You feel your limbs beginning to warm up, your heart beginning to beat, you inhale, feeling your lungs fill with air in a different way compared to when you simulate breathing. And your body responds to the abusive invasion, you feel yourself becoming wetter by the second and hear Beckett exhale with satisfaction.

“This is much, much better.” He commends with satisfied tone in his voice and then he thrusts into you again, this time his passage easier, smoother. His fingers once more move around you to your clit and he begins rubbing it once more, urging your body to respond, to give him what he needs – your arousal.

“You’re a bastard.” You whisper against the mirror, your breath now fogging it and you hear Beckett chuckle behind you, a third thrust being easier than previous two, your cunt quickly becoming soaked so much so that you feel some of it drop down your inner thigh as he thrusts into you again.

“And you’re overflowing.” He taunts and makes you moan when two of his claws scrape against your folds that are enveloping his shaft as he plunges into you again. “And so tight.” He mocks against your ear, enjoying how your body is still going through stages of temporary revival, and you let out a sound again as his cock stretches you deliciously painfully.

“Stop mocking me.” You snap at him much weaker than you wanted and Beckett nips at your ear with a chuckle.

“I’m not mocking you, I’m enjoying you. And I know you’re enjoying me. You love how I treat you, how I make you feel pain and pleasure at the same time. Such a little freak you are.” He whispers and you blush now, unable to deny his words. “No answer? Hard to argue with the truth, I suppose.” He goads you but you remain silent, just enjoy the feeling of his cock impaling you in slow, powerful rhythm while his fingers caress and stroke your folds. “Don’t relax just yet, I know what you truly like. After all, I was the one to introduce you to your pleasure.” Beckett nips at your ear again and you glance at him with the help of a mirror, only seeing his red eyes cast down for a moment before he straightens his back and pulls out, making you gasp from the agonizing absence his imposing cock leaves in its wake.

Beckett chuckles and his fingers slide over your stretched cunt, smearing his fingers with your arousal without digging his sharp nail in, but then it is gone too and you exhale with a whimper, wanting more, so much more.

“You’re taking fucking forever.” You murmur as you pant slightly, your grip on the sink relaxing at last and Beckett laughs softly.

“Quite literally, my dear.” He taunts and you roll your eyes before you stiffen when you feel the smooth tip of his cock now nudge at your asshole.

Your eyelids immediately droop and you bite your lower lip from anticipation. He was right, as he usually is. Beckett does know what you truly like and it’s only confirmed by your deliciously sweet whimper when he holds the base of his cock firm before beginning to push his hard length into your hole.

“That’s the kind of sound only cock in your ass can make you produce.” He says with such vulgarity that it makes your body shiver in response.

“Stop mocking me…” You moan again and Beckett scoffs at your words, his cock sliding into you with ease now that it’s been doused in your arousal.

“I’m complimenting you, dear.” Beckett corrects you and you smirk slightly, moans threatening to emerge as he carefully slides into you, letting you adjust to his size and girth.

“You’re complimenting yourself.” You respond and Beckett scoffs again, arrogant and haughty as ever, before you feel his body press against your rear, letting you know he buried his cock into you as deeply as he can.

“Someone has to.” He says and you feel the grip on your neck finally release you, feeling both palms on your hips now as he holds your ass in place for himself.

Before you can respond you feel Beckett’s lips on your back and then he draws his own hips back, before slamming right back in. You cry out and immediately clasp your palm over your mouth, moving your face and pressing your forehead against the mirror as pleasure nearly drowns your mind immediately. Your knees are weak and if you weren’t bent over the sink with Beckett holding you up, you would not be able to remain upright.

“There, the best compliment there is, a woman being so pleasured she’s close to losing her wits.” Beckett whispers against your skin and you feel his tongue trace alongside your spine for a moment before he at last starts thrusting.

You have to keep yourself quiet, you know that your very life depends on it. The bathroom is just too close to the stage room and someone might come out and hear, so you keep a palm over your mouth, trying to muffle your moans that are becoming louder the harder Beckett pounds into your ass. You bite your lower lip with your front teeth and your fangs nick your skin but you don’t even feel it. The pleasure is too great, and the pain of being stretched like this has wiped your brain from near all thoughts. You’re not sure you even remember your own name.

“You always took me so well, that’s what I like about you.” Beckett’s whisper is now against your shoulder and you feel his teeth as he bites down without drawing blood.

You whimper and then do it louder when his claws finally dig into your skin, slicing into it like daggers as the Elder grips your hips with supernatural strength. He needs it to keep you in place because he’s plowing into you with such force that you have to press palm of your other hand against the wall so that your back doesn’t break under tension.

Beckett swears under his breath after he releases your shoulder from his teeth and suddenly he pulls out, making you whine in protest, you felt like you were getting close to your bliss even like this, but Beckett has other plans.

He grabs your waist and turns you around, making you stumble on your unsteady legs and he leans in, giving your open mouth a fiery kiss before you feel him grip your arms and force you down to your knees. Your knees slip on the floor and you fall with your ass on cold tiles, your knees splayed and your panting filling the room in the moment of silence.

Beckett chuckles and grips your chin, pulling it up before he pushes two fingers into your mouth, making it salivate at the intrusion as he rubs pads of his digits against your tongue. You can barely see him in the darkness except for the eyes, those you can always see, and you clearly see as they watch you with lustful pride.

“Open wide.” He commands and you let your jaw become slack before his fingers leave your mouth and now his cock taps against your lower lip.

You swallow the saliva just in time, because he thrusts his length into your throat and when you instinctually try to pull back, Beckett grabs your hair and keeps your head in place.

“Come on now, dear, you know how to take it, no need to fuss.” Beckett croons and you know he’s right. You lean towards him, feeling the tip of his cock sliding alongside your tongue and nudging at your throat before you make it slide even deeper, until your nose is right against his pelvis, your tongue pressing hard to the underside of his length and you hear Beckett exhale with undeniable satisfaction. “Good girl.”

You whine around his cock, vibrations of your voice sending a shiver down his spine before he begins thrusting. He’s close, you know it, that’s why you’re on the floor, getting your mouth fucked, he likes hearing you sputter and struggle when he comes down your throat.

“Don’t deny yourself, darling, touch yourself. I want to feel you come.” Becket encourages and you don’t hesitate, your fingers quickly moving between your spread legs and finding your clit, still throbbing with need.

You begin to massage the nub, making yourself moan as you do so, your ass still feeling sore from taking his cock but it’s a pleasant feeling, one you relish as Beckett thrusts into your throat faster and faster. Your jaw is screaming from pain, it’s hard for you to accommodate him like this but you enjoy this feeling too. Part of the reason why you didn’t even resist him pulling you into this bathroom even if you spoke of it.

“Come for me, come on.” Beckett urges you, his breaths heavy and his voice unsteady while his other hand also tangles and grips your hair, making you whine as his pumps start becoming erratic.

Your fingers rub your clit faster and you don’t need much effort to feel the heat spreading between your legs and in your lower abdomen. Pleasure knots at first, taking over your mind completely and you unravel, your muscles spasm and your fingers stutter as you rub yourself to draw out your pleasure as much as you can while you moan around Beckett’s cock.

And then he comes too.

You have nearly forgotten that he’s fucking your face and when his hot and thick cum spurts at the back of your throat, coating it, you begin to sputter and choke, forgetting to swallow at first.

“Fuck! Swallow it all.” Beckett grunts as he moves his twitching cock in your mouth, letting your throat milk him for all he’s worth and you follow his command, finally remembering what you need to do, gulping down his seed until with one last twitch of his length last bits of it trickle down your esophagus.

He slowly pulls out, his fingers leaving your hair as he moves backwards from you and you watch his red gaze cast down on you while you listen to him move his clothes, first the zipper, then the belt buckle as you sit on the floor exhausted, disheveled and sweaty.

“We’ll meet again, I am sure.” Beckett finally says after he puts his clothes in other and then he leans over you, his fingers tilting your head up for him to press a strong, but short kiss against your lips. “After all, I’m going to be in LA for a while.” He teases with a smile against your mouth, then he pulls back, gives you another glance and walks out.

For a moment you feel blinded as the light from the lobby illuminates the bathroom when Beckett opens the door, but then it closes and you’re in darkness once again. Panting and dazed you sit for a moment longer, then grab the nearby sink to pull yourself to your feet.

“Damn it.” You swear under your breath as you grope around for the light switch and finally flip it, blinking couple times as your eyes adjust to the low brightness of the bathroom lights.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the Discipline now fading and your body cooling swiftly. You see your reflection, the bite on your shoulder, the creases in your dress and you finally notice your torn panties resting on the edge of a sink to your left. You grab them and toss them into trash, then lower your dress, trying to smooth it with an annoyed sigh. Your hair is a mess, you try to fix it too, then run some water, washing your face and rinsing your mouth. It takes you around ten more minutes to feel like you look somewhat presentable and with another swear at Beckett’s expense you exit the bathroom, only to stop immediately because he’s there, holding two glasses of blood and wearing that cocky grin on his face.

“Figured you might need some refreshments.” He taunts and you narrow your eyes at him but take the glass, still feeling ghostly soreness in your ass and jaw. You know that he knows.

“Yes, refreshments.” You mutter and take a sip, finding even this bagged provision better than nothing, then you stiffen as you see Sebastian quickly approaching, his face confident and smiling.

“There you are! I was looking for you.” He announces ignoring Beckett and then wraps an arm around your waist, barely spending half a second to look at you. “Come, Gary has something to say I want you to hear from his own… well, can’t call them lips, but let’s say mouth. If you’ll excuse us.” Sebastian shoots a dismissive glance at Beckett and begins leading you away.

As you walk with Sebastian, your knees still feeling weak and your legs still being shaky, you throw one last glance over your shoulder at Beckett and see him cheerfully wave to you before he calls out:

“Have fun.”

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Why so Early?

Reimagining An Offer from a Gentleman #4

Synopsis: Benedict is hungry. Sophie is hungrier. What more is there to say? Or the first time Sophie takes matters into her own hands. Quite literally.

⚠️ SMUT SMUT SMUT? First time writing original smut. Is it smutty enough? Is this even a smut? I really don’t know. But this one is just cute and slutty. Or is it…? I’m spiraling. Hope you enjoy🥰

Post on AO3 from here!

Benedict felt quite dazed, lost in the afterglow of their lovemaking. But he knew he had to go again, with his newlywed wife laid elegantly naked before him, spread across his master bed like a forbidden fruit, ready to be devoured again. Sophie was still breathless and in raptures, not quite recovering from the sweet ecstasy Benedict had brought her to from their climax. But he knew that it wasn’t enough. Still feeling the intense heat of his body, his hands again wandered between her legs, wanting to taste more, ravish more.

More, more. Again Again.

After a rushed wedding and a small reception, Benedict and Sophie had turned straight back to Wiltshire, setting their way to my cottage. To avoid the rumors, he heard other people say, but Benedict was just happy to finally have Sophie all to himself. The last few days, he had hardly time to see her, with his mother and sisters hovering over her, dragging his to-be-wife across London shop after shop.

“Please, there’s no need to spend such fortune on me, Lady Bridgerton,” He heard Sophie whimper so many times as Benedict chuckled over his tea.

“Nonsense,” Violet had reassuringly replied every time. “You are already my daughter, my dear. You must have another dress for the reception. And you must call me Violet….”

But with the marital vows made(with floods of tears from Sophie, Benedict, Violet, and somehow Anthony) and the wedding cake finished (mostly by Colin), the two finally made their way to Wiltshire (despite angry tears from Hyacinth; how dare you take away my Sophie! I OBJECT to the marriage, Mother…”)The moment the carriage arrived in front of my cottage, Benedict had scooped Sophie off her seat and simply carried to his master bedroom, and settled her against the pillow and the sheets.

“Benedict!!” Sophie giggled as he nuzzled her neck, softly pushing her against the mattress.

“Do you have a problem, dear wife?”

“We have to greet Mrs. And Mr. Crabtree properly…” Her voice changed into a suppressed moan as Benedict nipped the edge of her ears. He slid his hands to her back, gently undoing the knots and the ribbons of her dress.

Buttons are so much easier, Benedict mindlessly thought as he skillfully pulled down her bodice, remembering the first time he had almost taken her down on the ground.

“But we greeted them at the door, my dear.”

“Benedict, I barely saw their faces!”

Satisfied with his handiwork (Sophie was now only in her chemise), he softly cupped her breasts over the thin fabric, his fingers softly teasing the tip of her bosom. He grinned as she mewled and squirmed under his touch, but he knew she still resisted to what would soon overflow.

“But Benedict, it’s disrespectful…”

She tugged his shirt in meaningless defiance, but of course, Benedict guilelessly removed his jacket and cravat; swiftly peeling off his shirt and onto the floor.

“But I’ll be disrespectful toward you, my dear.”

“I don’t feel disrespected at all, Benedict.”

“My dear, dear wife,” He whispered to her in his low seductive voice, which he knew would melt her in a puddle,

“It would be disrespectful to you if I didn’t fulfill my marital duties, is it not?”

It was the first night of their honeymoon, and as a husband should, he ravished her through and through, taking her down from front to back, sinking her into the sheets, sinking himself inside her warmth. With two years’ worth of dreaming in fantasy, of desperate craving, how many times he pounded inside her, it never seemed enough. Sophie was barely keeping up, the overwhelming sensation that fired inside her, the boundless hunger Benedict held was beyond her limits, beyond her imagination.

Although Benedict had taken her several times before the marriage, he had always been the sweet gentle lover, slowly guiding and leading her to pleasure and ecstacy. But in their marital bedroom, Benedict was like a man possessed, almost feral, desperate to mark her as his own. Sophie finally understood the depth of his appetite, the depth of his desire, the depth of his love towards her, and she tried her best to respond to his blazing devotion, but she could not think, or think at all. She could only but clutch tightly around his arms, bearly breathing between gasps and moans.

----------------------------------------------------

“Did I hurt you, Sophie?”

Sophie smiled softly as her husband asked her hesitantly with a slightly guilty look on his face. His fingers softly caressed her cheeks, and Sophie softly nuzzled her cheeks on his hands, enjoying his warmth.

“How could you ever hurt me, dear husband?”

“Did I go too rough on you?”

But Sophie laughed wholeheartedly, placing a small peck on his flushed cheeks.

“It was lovely, Benedict.”

Tired and breathless, but immensely satisfied, Ben softly wrapped his arms around his wife, cuddling her against her body. Finally finding the covers pooled around the foot of the bed, Benedict pulled them over their embraced bodies.

The woman in his dreams finally in his arms. Sophie Beckett, no, Sophie Bridgerton finally inside his embrace. Benedict smiled in contentment as he finally let his back rest against the sheets.

“I love you, Sophie.”

He softly whispered to her, placing a small kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too Benedict.”

At last, Benedict closed his eyes, feeling happier than he ever did before.

But he also did feel Sophie softly climbing on his thighs. He opened his eyes in surprise, and Benedict saw Sophie softly place her lips on his, timidly tickling the corner of his mouth, slightly hesitant about where it may lead. Benedict smiled softly, happiness bubbling up to him furthermore, enjoying the slightly tottering kisses Sophie was initiating. After all, he had always been the one who was stealing (and sometimes begging for) kisses, and he was pleasantly surprised by Sophie who had been so bashful from the beginning to initiate a kiss. But he was quite sleepy.

It was a perfect sweet kiss, and Benedict slowly closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, thinking how wonderful it is to sleep with the comfortable weight his wife of over his body, her smooth skin laid against his….

“Benedict,”

Benedict jerked awake, slightly lifting himself from the bedsheets as Sophie whispered his name breathlessly in his ear, her fingers softly running through his brow curls. His heart pounded as he saw the continuing flame in Sophie’s deep green eyes when he just managed to crack open his drowsy heavy eyes.

“My sweet, sweet, Benedict.”

Sophie cooed seductively as she put her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even further. Try what he does to you, the wicked devil in her mind whispered to her. She softly trailed the edge of his lips with her tongue, thoroughly enjoying the sweet taste. Gently nipping his bottom lip with her mouth, her kisses moved from his chin to his jaw, and slowly moved to his neck, softly nuzzling his nape with her lips. Sandalwood and soap, the familiar smell seemed to fuel her fire even more.

Benedict groaned as Sophie placed a small kiss on the edge of his collarbone, her hands softly fondling his nipples. He softly snaked his arms around her waist, gently pushing her closer to him; encouraging her to continue the tender exploration Sophie was doing to his body, but he was, still a little sleepy.

So warm, so beautiful, Sophie thought as she ran her hands across his chiseled body, caressing the strong arms that held her tight, that loved and ravished her with all his might. Slowly, she let her hands wander lower and lower until they reached his thighs. She found herself shamelessly staring at his figure, the place she thought she would never experience in all her life.

I need to wake him up.

Her delicate fingers softly touched the tip of his manhood. His body jerked at her touch and she softly smiled, the power she had over his robust body was empowering, but she had learned from the past hours that this was not enough.

“Benedict”

Benedict could swear he saw her lick her lips ever so slightly as she whispered breathlessly,

“I want you…to get it up.”

Perhaps I have woken up the devil, he thought to himself, as she traced the outline of his length.

“Just once more, my love?”

The pure innocence in her tone, as if a little child were asking for another bite of chocolate. But the view in front of him was far from innocent, but right down erotic. Only white sheets gathered around her hips, Sophie was completely bare before him, glowing and shimmering under the moonlight. With her legs straddled over his thighs, her fingers softly caressing his heat, her face was flushed and breathless, her eyes burning with desire. Her presence alone would drive anyone to insanity; she was his Aphrodite, the goddess of love and lust, beauty and passion.

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,

He found himself uttering those words under his breath, overcome with the sensation and the dreamlike scenery that was spread before his eyes,

“And I will pledge with mine;”

There was a soft smile on Sophie’s lips as she followed his voice. Ever the romantic, she softly thought.

“The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;”

Gently grinding herself against his thighs, she softly placed a small kiss on his heat. The soft stimulation she left choked him, leaving him panting, and breathless.

“But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.”

“Better than the kings of gods himself ?” Benedict tried to tease her newfound anticipation, trying to make a smirk, but he found himself gritting his teeth in a second, his hand tightly gripping the sheets of his bed as Sophie wrapped his manhood around her hands, slowly stroking his length.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,”

“Flesh stays no further reason but rising at thy name.”

“Sophie, please,”

“Did William Shakespeare compose of deceit?”

He wanted to reply, but he could only groan. The teasing grazings of her thumbs were agonizing, and he tilted his head against the pillow trying to find some kind of relief. She grinned somewhat mischievously.

“So much for men’s carnal lusts and appetites, isn’t it?”

“Please, just wait a moment, Sophie, I just need time to recover, no, I mean I can get it up, but it’s just that men need more time to…”

Benedict moaned as Sophie’s lips again teased his manhood, tenderly tracing his manhood with her tongue. Sophie softly smiled, feeling his hardness return against her lips.

“I need you, Benedict,” Sophie murmured breathlessly against his lips as she took his hand, placing them on her soft breasts, as her hip movements grew more erratic.

“Give me my sin again,”

All at once, Benedict realized that although he was a rather sturdy man, (and women in the past have praised/chastised his physical stamina), his vitality was nothing compared to his beautiful wife before him, who had spent a lifetime in manual labor, working from dawn to dusk.

While he liked to consider himself as a young man of thirty, Sophie was still two-and-twenty, finally letting herself sink in the carnal lust and appetite that Benedict had led her in, the place Sophie had relentlessly rejected and repressed for years. For the most heartbreaking reasons. She was learning the pleasures and the depth of her sexuality, and Benedict was more than welcome to assist. Sophie was finally letting it go, falling apart in front of his eyes.

And luckily, he was fully restored by this point.

Benedict softly placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her to his heat, a soft moan escaping from both lips as she sank herself into his arousal. He gently guided her hips forward and backward, leading to her sweet pleasure as Sophie gripped his neck.

“My heart, my body, is ever at your service, Sophie.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“I’ve never thought I would want this so much.” Sophie quietly said as she rested her head against his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around her body. It was so peaceful and quiet that the moment almost felt ethereal, as she softly traced the lines of his rib cage, and his warm hands gently brushing her dark blond curls.

“By this do you mean my coc…”

“No! No! No! I meant….well, yes, but…”

Benedict chuckled as he planted a soft kiss on her ears that had turned bright red at his tease.

“I’ve…I’ve always been so terrified of it.”

Sophie’s voice was soft, almost like a prayer.

“It always felt so sinful, the ……craving desire I felt toward you. That I was going to drown myself in carnal flames, the sin of bearing another tragedy.”

Benedict tightened his embrace around her body. He knew that her thin ankles, her blistered hands and the remaining scars were a testament to her tragic past, and there was nothing he could do to erase her horrific memory. But he held on to her tight, wanting her to know that he was there by her side, she would never be alone again.

“But being in your arms, I never felt so pure.”

Benedict couldn’t see her face, her forehead nudged on his chest, but he knew she was crying softly, feeling the warm tears against his body. And somehow, his vision was beginning to become blurry as well.

“Sophie, can I ask you something?”

His voice was hesitant, almost apologetic.

“Of course, my love.”

“Why did you let me take you down on the sofa that day? If you were so scared of it?”

Sophie fell into silence, deeply sinking in thought.

Perhaps he should never have asked her that question. Perhaps she was regretting it, and he was the one pushing her to the sin that she feared for her whole life…

“Because I knew that you loved me, you foolish man,”

Sophie looked up at him with the most radiant smile he had ever seen, her moss-green eyes still shimmering with tears,

“And I loved you too,”

----------------------------------------------------

Benedict knew that it was a beautiful morning. Although feeling the soft sunlight pouring through the window against his back, he was not quite ready to open his eyes, wanting to stay in a peaceful slumber for a little while. He yawned and reached out his arms, trying to hold his dear wife in his arms again. He wanted to feel her warmth, and a wicked part of his mind yearned for Sophie to calm the wicked hunger he felt between his legs…

But his hands only felt the coldness of the silk sheets.

Benedict jerked awake, a slight panic taking over all his emotions.

Was it all a dream? The wedding? The cakes? The tears? The lady in Silver? Sophie Beckett? Had he been dreaming the most wonderful dream in his bedroom in my cottage?

Benedict leaped off the bed, grabbing a robe from his bedside. He looked out from the windows to the grounds but there was nobody in sight. The guest bedroom was empty as well, the bed furnished perfectly without a trace of being used, and Benedict felt a feeling of dread become stronger and stronger. The sitting room, the dining room, the library, nowhere he could find his wife, and he could feel his soul slowly descending into madness.

“Mrs. Bridgerton, there is no need for you to be in the kitchen! I’m handling everything perfectly at this moment, without your assistance!”

Mrs. Crabtree’s exasperated cry echoed through the hallway.

Mrs. Bridgerton. Mrs. Bridgerton. Sophie Bridgerton.

Benedict repeated his housekeeper’s voice repeatedly, a sense of relief spreading across his body.

So it isn’t a dream after all.

…But why was she in the kitchen?

Benedict dashed through the hallway to the servant’s halls, the conversation between Mrs. Crabtree and his wife becoming more audible.

“Mrs. Crabtree, please just let me take this..”

“Mrs. Bridgerton, how many times do I have to tell you to go back to your bedroom? You are the lady of the house…”

“Please Mrs.Crabtree, call me Sophie, not Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Judging from the grumbled tone of Mrs. Crabtree, Benedict assumed that the exchange of conversation had been going on for quite a while. As Benedict finally reached the door, he found his wife and Mrs. Crabtree desperately fighting over a tea tray.

“Oh, good morning Benedict!”

Sophie’s smile was so energetically cheerful.

“Mrs. Crabtree had made us such a beautiful breakfast, Benedict. I woke up rather early, so I wanted to be some help to Mrs. Crabtree…”

“I tried to stop her,” Mrs. Crabtree sent an apologetic look at Benedict, “I’ve tried to tell her that she does not need to lift a finger in this household…”

“Mrs. Crabtree.”

Benedict cut Mrs. Crabtree’s voice, completely aware that he was being rather rude. But it was the morning right after his wedding night. Mrs. Crabtree would surely understand, wouldn’t she?

“Might I borrow Mrs. Bridgerton for a while? Better get my wife off your hair for a while, perhaps for a few hours?”

“I see no problem there, Mr. Bridgerton.”

And in that moment Benedict again picked Sophie off her feet, carrying her over his shoulder. Sophie simply shrieked, her view had turned completely upside down.

“Benedict! But the tea! And the eggs! Anf the bacon! I was rather hungry this morning….”

“Newlyweds,” Mrs. Crabree sighed as she listened to the rhythmic thumping and uncomfortable racket above them. But Mr. Crabtree didn’t miss the small smile that crept up on her lips.

#Writer’s Notes

Ben Johnson and William Shakespeare.

I truly love your poems and plays.

You guys are geniuses; the masteries of words.

My writings are trash compared to your most beautiful, exquisite verses.

But I really know you guys were just SLUTS

Respect to the greatest sluts in England.

[danshive]

Towels Are Illogical

A Star Trek: Lower Decks fan fiction inspired by speculation about the lack of shame and modesty in the lower deck bunk corridors.

This story is tame, does not include detailed physical descriptions, and, with creative directing, could even be in an episode of Lower Decks.

Nonetheless, it has characters in casual states of total undress, and some suggestive moments.

Therefore, reader discretion is advised. Story after the “Keep Reading”.

Towels Are Illogical

By Dan Shive

Boimler’s troubles (or, at least, these specific troubles), began with the arrival of provisional officer T’Lyn.

As Boimler understood it, T’Lyn had transferred from a Vulcan vessel, and was Tendi’s “bestest science buddy”. T’Lyn didn’t look to Boimler as though she returned Tendi’s enthusiasm, but it was hard to tell with Vulcans. Boimler took Tendi’s word for it.

All of which was fine. Boimler was always happy to meet a new crewmate. He welcomed T’Lyn with open arms kept at a respectable distance.

No, the problem for Boimler was that T’Lyn turned out to be a trendsetter.

Naturally, not long after T’Lyn’s arrival, she made use of the sonic showers. As she set out to do so, however, she didn’t wrap herself in a towel. She simply undressed, stored her uniform, and started walking.

Changing clothes out in the open wasn’t unusual in the bunk corridors of the lower decks, nor was it that strange to not be in a hurry to get dressed again. 

It was not uncommon, for example, for Tendi and Rutherford to get distracted in the middle of changing, and to have lengthy conversations while remaining in various states of undress.

It was, however, unusual to leave one’s bunk while still undressed as T’Lyn had done.

Mariner, with her usual lack of a filter, caught up to T’Lyn, and walked along next to her while wearing a towel. “Whoa, whoa, T’Lyn! You’re really going decloaked?”

T’Lyn raised an eyebrow. “Why would I have a cloak?”

“Sorry, sorry, turn of phrase,” While still outgoing and assertive, Mariner was a little awkward around T’Lyn. “A towel. I meant a towel.”

“Are these not sonic showers?”

“Well, yeah, they are, but…”

“To dry oneself off is unnecessary after a sonic shower, and it is illogical for me to cover myself. I feel no physical shame. Even if I did, we are about to shower together.” With what might have been a smile, T’Lyn said “decloaking is an inevitability.”

“Yeah… Yeah! You’re right!” Mariner declared. “I don’t need this!” She boldly whipped off her towel, and flung it over her shoulder. “I mean, I’ll hang on to it for now, don’t want to leave towels lying around the corridor, but yeah!”

Aside from a distracted ensign walking into a wall, this moment had little-to-no impact on others in the lower decks. It was later, after Tendi loudly expressed agreement with T’Lyn, and declared them to be “no-towel buddies,” that the idea started to spread.

As though it were the latest fashion, lower decker after lower decker stopped bothering with towels when walking to and from the sonic showers.

Even “towel guy” was now just “guy,” though he was still referred to as “towel guy.”

Tradition is a powerful thing.

Only one ensign, Ensign Boimler, was sticking to last season’s fashion. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he meant to go to the sonic showers, but was hesitant.

Everyone else not wearing towels bothered Boimler, but not for the reasons one might expect. Boimler was not, for example, overwhelmed by the sight of his exposed crewmates.

Back at his family’s raisin vineyard, Boimler was the most eligible bachelor around. Absurdly attractive women, often in states of partial, if not total, undress, threw themselves at him.

Boimler, hyper-focused on his future in Starfleet, and lacking patience in any failure to properly raise the raisins to be, remained completely oblivious. Without even meaning to, he had formed a callous around being affected by the nudity of others.

Tendi, Mariner, Rutherford, T’Lyn, or anyone else walking around in their birthday suits wasn’t going to power Boimler’s lust above impulse.

No, what bothered Boimler was he was the only one keeping himself covered at all times.

He’d mastered changing clothes without dropping his cloak.

His towel shields were up well before the eyes of others could impact his hull.

Not even Section 31 could know the secrets of Boimler’s hips.

But now, Boimler was the only one staying covered. He felt like a coward, and cowards had no place in the captain’s chair.

“A captain wouldn’t be afraid to drop the towel,” Boimler thought to himself. “A captain wouldn’t even bring a towel! They’d sit in the captain’s chair, naked as the day they were born, and do! Their! Duty!”

Unbidden, an imagined scene of Captain Freeman bravely commanding the Cerritos in such a manner played out in Boimler’s mind.

Boimler, his face red, quickly sat down. He hurriedly thought of other things, like the Niners playing baseball in a holosuite.

As it turned out, nudity combined with competent Starfleet officers on missions actually could awaken something in Boimler.

“Bases loaded, Rom bunts…” Boimler whispered, casting away the sexy demons.

Boimler, deliberately lost in thoughts of the Niners losing at baseball, and trying to remember how baseball was played, failed to notice T’Lyn.

T’Lyn was fresh from the sonic showers, and, as per usual, not wearing a thing.

She observed Boimler. His discomfort about the towel situation had not escaped her notice. While she felt her actions logical, she knew it was her influence that had resulted in his current dilemma.

T’Lyn felt… Found it logical to help Boimler.

“May I join you, Mister Boimler?”

“EZRI ON FIRST!” Boimler blurted, bumping his head on the ceiling of his bunk as he sat up straight.

T’Lyn raised her eyebrows, her expression otherwise unchanged. “My apologies. Are you injured?”

“No, no, I’m fine! Sit, sit! What’s up?”

T’Lyn sat on the end of Boimler’s bunk closest to the viewport.

“You are uncomfortable with the idea of not covering yourself.”

“Whaaat? Why would you… Why would you think? That?” Boimler’s smile would have earned him an invite to many a Ferengi’s poker table.

T’Lyn said nothing.

“Okay, fine, yes,” Boimler admitted. “I know it’s the 24th century, and it’s illogical, but—“ T’Lyn calmly interrupted with a raised hand.

“It is logical for me to not cover myself because I do not feel discomfort in this situation. Context, however, is relevant.” In a shocking display of expressiveness, T’Lyn gestured with one arm, indicating the bunks of the lower decks.

T’Lyn then used both hands to draw attention to her own torso. “Were I in this state of undress at a meeting with the senior staff, and they were fully dressed, I would find it…”

Almost imperceptibly, T’Lyn’s head tilted, and her face scrunched the tiniest of bits. To Boimler, this somehow conveyed a shudder.

“Illogical,” T’Lyn finished. She rested her hands in her lap, their shameless, illogical gesturing for emphasis complete.

Boimler imagined himself in T’Lyn’s place in that hypothetical situation, followed by Worf catching a flying ball.

“You, Mister Boimler, are not me. You should do what is right for you,” she said, imperceptibly gentle. “Discarding your towel as an act of conformity is illogical. It is only logical if you truly wish to do so, and only if you are comfortable being uncovered.”

Boimler smiled genuinely this time. “Thank you, T’Lyn. You’re right. I think I really needed to hear that.”

T’Lyn smiled. It was barely perceptible, but it happened. “You are welcome, Mister Boimler.”

“And you know what?” Boimler said, quickly standing, “I shouldn’t be ashamed! I’m not doing this for peer pressure! I’m doing this for me! Bold Boimler!”

Boimler triumphantly cast aside his towel, standing fully exposed in the lower decks corridor, hands on his hips.

Right as Beckett Mariner, fully dressed, had turned the corner.

“NOPE,” Mariner loudly declared. Turning around, her hands raised, she quickly departed the way she came. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No way.”

Boimler felt a bit less triumphant. “Well, that was…” his hands fell from his hips as his posture slumped. “Discouraging.”

T’Lyn looked towards the parting Mariner.

“I believe she does not wish to think of you in certain ways, but does so under certain circumstances,” T’Lyn dryly hypothesized, a hint of jealously in her voice that only a Vulcan could detect.

“And what does that mean?” Boimler asked, not getting any of it.

T’Lyn stood. “Take it as a compliment, Mister Boimler.” With images dancing in her mind of a cute, flustered Mariner reacting to T’Lyn’s state of undress instead of Boimler’s, T’Lyn left to get dressed.

[gimmiesophiebaek]

In honor of Benophie’s wedding anniversary…

Today is Benedict and Sophie’s wedding anniversary. In honor of that, here’s some fan fics to check out on AO3.

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

Fic prompt: after 4x05, Kate thinks Castle is on a date with Serena. She goes somewhere she thinks he won’t be, and is surprised when he joins her at the bar.

Whiskey.

Neat.

And keep 'em coming.

She nursed her third, mindful of the situation she was in. Drowning the pain in smooth, spiced golden liquid: that was an awfully familiar scene. She washed away the bitter taste of hypocrisy with another sip and grimaced as her father's voice echoed in her mind: I didn't even realise I had a problem until I hit rock bottom.

With that in mind, she pushed the half-empty glass just a few inches away from her. She knew she'd more than likely reach for it again as soon as the next wave of negativity washed over her, though. Whether it be anger, or frustration, or sadness, or just outright jealousy... it had been relentless thus far.

The worst part was, she completely understood what Castle saw in Serena. She was beautiful, confident, smart. And she went after what she wanted. Serena wouldn't have trekked across town simply so that she didn't have to worry about the microscopic chance she might run into the man she was in love with because he was on a date with someone else. Serena was fun and uncomplicated and sexy. God, she didn't even want to think about they were doing right now. Chances were she was drinking alone in a dive bar in the Bronx for no damn reason: Castle and Serena had probably skipped dinner and drinks in favour of dessert, anyway.

The mental images that accompanied that thought had her reaching for her glass with a groan. She didn't understand why she was torturing herself like this. She wasn't ready, and she couldn't expect Castle to remain celibate while he waited for her. Maybe that was something they could have discussed if she ever actually worked up the gall to ask him to wait for her; instead, they'd had one conversation that had been so heavily reliant on subtext she really wasn't sure if either one of them had walked away with any sort of clarity. The whole situation with Castle was just... messy.

"I'll have what she's having."

The familiar voice startled her. She turned her head to look at him, not completely convinced she wasn't imagining his presence.

"Castle?" He sat on the stool beside her, turned to her and smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Lanie told me you were here," he said.

Beckett frowned. Had she even told Lanie that she was here?

"She happened to be in the neighbourhood and saw you come in here," he explained. He smiled at the bartender when received his whiskey. "She asked me to check in on you."

She deflated, folded her arms on the bar in front of her and dropped her head onto her forearms. Of course she knew he didn't have some sixth sense that told him where she was, and that she needed him. Still, the confirmation was disappointing.

"Didn't mean to ruin your date," she mumbled incoherently into her arms.

"What date?"

She sat upright and rolled her shoulders. "With Serena Kaye."

She didn't mean to say the woman's name with such bitterness. Serena was... lovely. Beckett may not have agreed with ever life choice the woman had made but Serena had never been anything but polite to her. Courteous, forgiving. She didn't deserve to be treated the way Beckett had treated her.

"I didn't go on a date with Serena," Castle said, sounding somewhat confused.

Beckett looked him in the eye. "You didn't?"

He shook his head and she narrowed her eyes; she didn't understand.

"Why not? I-" She swallowed. "I thought you liked her."

Castle's eyes dropped to the drink in her hand, then back up to meet her eyes. "Is that why you're here?"

She dropped her gaze to the golden liquid in her glass, scared he could see the truth in her eyes if she let him look for too long.

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't really your scene, Beckett," he stated as he looked around them.

The bar wasn't overly crowded but it was the busiest place she had dared to go alone in months. Since her shooting. But the unseen danger that had haunted her for all that time wasn't even on her mind tonight.

Tonight, it was just Castle.

And Serena.

And the date she had, apparently, imagined.

"Thought I'd try somewhere new," she mumbled.

Castle placed his hand on the opposite side of her stool and leaned closer to her, tilting his head to make eye contact again. "How's that going for you?" he asked sarcastically.

A huffed, both amused and frustrated by just how easily he could read her.

"I hate it here."

He smiled as if he had won some prize - which only frustrated her more - but at the same time, his smile filled her with warmth and she couldn't help but smile, too.

"Then, let me take you home," he offered.

His hand shifted from her stool and rested on her lower back, the heat of his palm seared through the fabric of her shirt and she flinched, as if his touch had branded her.

She knew it wasn't what he had meant, yet she couldn't stop the words from slipping from her lips.

"What? Serena didn't pan out so I'm the consolation prize?"

She winced, hearing the words aloud. She couldn't believe that they had actually come from her mouth.

What the hell was she doing?

She lifted her glass, ready to drain the remainder of her drink, but Castle's hand on her wrist stopped her. She turned her head to look at him, his gorgeous blue eyes an unusually dark shade of cerulean.

"Let's get one thing clear, Kate," he said in a low, warning tone that sent a shiver down her spine. "You are not a consolation prize." He took the glass from her hand and placed it back on the bar. "And I never wanted Serena."

"What do you want?" she dared to ask.

Castle shifted even closer, until their faces hovered just inches apart. She could feel his warmth radiating from him. He stared at her, desire in his eyes, until something - a thought, a memory, she wasn't quite sure - doused that fire within him. He blinked and looked away; the tension that crackled between them, gone in an instant.

"I want to know that you are safe and in your bed so that I can actually get some sleep tonight," he answered.

She knew it wasn't a lie, but it was definitely the safe answer.

He slipped off the stool and held his hand out for her.

Accepting that this conversation was over she took his hand and allowed him to lead her out of the bar.

The cab ride to her apartment was long, tense, and all too silent.

When the driver pulled up out front of her building, Castle placed his hand on her knee, effectively stopping her from getting out of the cab.

"Talk tomorrow?" he asked her.

Uncertainty pervaded his tone. It glimmered in his eyes as he studied her face for the answer she was yet to give him.

She nodded, unable to actually verbalise her agreement.

But they both knew that tonight would just be one more thing added to the list of things they never talked about.

It was easier that way.

[cuppatealove]

New chapter is up!

When you've just survived a serial killer and a burning building, a couple of angry redheads should give you no trouble at all.

[gif]

[imgondeletedis]

~𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆.~ || 𝚊 𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒-𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. || 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚝. 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎

. 𝙼 .𝙰 . 𝚂 .𝚃 . 𝙴 . 𝚁 . 𝙻 . 𝙸 . 𝚂 . 𝚃 .

-started: Thursday, 4th of July, 2024.

𝟎𝟎. 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Finished: -

a/n: i haven't finished writing yet so I am not gonna get ahead of myself and add or count how many chapters i am gonna write (which won't be ALOT because this is meant to be a mini-series till now), but i will add to and update this masterlist daily as soon as I finish writing something related<3 I love you all and I appreciate everyone who's invested in this💓🫶